#reflex treadmill particularly

[wildechildwrites]

Pink Mugs And Painful Expressions

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: You go to the gym regularly

No Use of Y/N

Summary: While on leave, Price gets fixated on a girl at his gym with a painful running face

A/N: Price seems so domestic, this premise is so silly but so soft

AO3 Link: Pink Mugs And Painful Expressions

The first thing Price noticed about you when he saw you the first time, sweat covered and finishing up his gym routine, was the immaculate look of pain on your pretty face. You were running on the treadmill at a steady but punishing pace, and the expression on your face reminded him, oddly enough, of a baroque painting of a martyr being tortured. Eyes cast up, eyebrows tight, your mouth slightly parted and aggressively downturned. He'd seen that same look of agony on men who had lost limbs. It jarred him enough that he openly stared for almost two minutes before coming back to himself and quickly leaving.

You went to the gym at the same time everyday, he realized, seeking out the striking expression on your face everytime he came to train. Leave made him restless, antsy, often resulting in multiple gym trips a day. He adjusted his schedule to match yours, because the tortured look on your face gave him something to focus on outside of the combat he was itching to go back to. He wondered why you ran so often if you loathed it so much. He wondered if you were just a particularly expressive person. He wondered if you were constantly miserable and not cognizant of the face you made at the gym. He wondered if this fixation was inappropriate.

It was one of your usual gym days, and John had just finished up his last set, head turned over his right shoulder to look back at the treadmills when he knocked into someone. His head snapped forward as he instinctively grabbed onto the person's wrist, steadying them before realizing who it was he bumped into.

"I apologize," he said, looking down at your slightly red face, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's alright," you replied, your voice clear and slightly breathless, "I wasn't paying much attention either."

There was a beat. John realized he was still holding your wrist and snatched his hand back with another apology. You smiled at him shyly and he felt the world shift. Your eyes were lovely.

"I'm John Price," his hand shot out almost reflexively. You shook the offered palm gently and introduced yourself as he marveled at how small your hands were compared to his. "I apologize for knocking into you, love." You smiled again, laughing away his apology, ducking your head and gently detaching yourself, turning to leave. He was too caught up replaying the sound of you laughing to realize you were walking away before you were already gone.

The quiet was the worst part of being home. In the field, there was always noise. Gunshots. The murmur of his men conversing. Even when silence was required you could hear the shift of a uniform, the quiet footsteps. His flat had no noise. Price was a man accustomed to company, and his empty flat was silent as the grave. He forced himself into the shower, letting the water wash over him for over an hour. He'd go out tonight, he decided. Go get something to eat, maybe go to a pub. Hear the clinking of glasses and the sounds of conversation. He'd get his mind off your sweet voice and the feeling of your tiny wrist in his hand. He just needed to breathe. He got out of the shower and smoked a cigar.

The pub turned out to be a brilliant idea. With good food to fill his stomach and good bourbon to dull his senses, he felt himself unwind slightly. The bell over the pub door jingled and he looked up reflexively before he caught his breath. Of all the gin joints in all the towns, he thought. You're haloed in the doorway, leading a group that must be your friends. John feels a distinct pleasure at the cheerfulness of your expression as your eyes survey the room, zeroing in on an empty table. He watches you order food and drinks, watches your cheeks flush and your smile widen with every sip and every comment. It delighted him, your overly expressive face being so brilliantly cheerful outside of the gym.

Eventually, you volunteer to grab the next round, slightly stumbling as you rise from the table. You beeline for the bar and land next to his elbow, anchoring yourself against the corner of the bar as you wait for the bartender to take notice of you. You smell incredible. John can feel it when you see him, really see him, because you startle like an animal. He waits a breath before hearing a small throat clear. His eyes meet with yours.

You smile, embarrassed, and blurt, "I don't want you to think I'm a stalker," eyes wide with sincerity. "I've just noticed you at the gym before and then I bumped into you today and now we're at the same pub…" you trail off. "I like your hat." You duck your head and a quiet laugh bubbles in John's throat.

"I'd never accuse you of stalking me outright," he said, his eyes twinkling.

You reward him with a giggle that would bring him to his knees if he wasn't already sitting.

"Buy you a drink?" John asks, but your eyes dart towards your friend and his heart sinks.

"Maybe not tonight," you say, regret coloring your tone, "maybe we could go another time? I'm free Friday," you say shyly, "I can give you my phone number?"

He pulls out his phone embarrassingly fast, swiping past his home screen (the entire team dogpiling Gaz, laughing harder than a man with several very heavy grown men on top of them should be able to.) and opens the new contact page before sliding it to you. You type your info in quickly before gracing him with another one of your shy head bobs and breaking off, completely forgetting the drinks you were supposed to retrieve.

John calls the bartender over and asks him to send your group another round on him. He can see the bewildered baby deer eyes you give him all the way from across from the room. He tips his hat, unable to completely drop the smirk on his face, and settles his tab before heading out, the bell tinkling merrily behind him, sending him into the night.

The gym was now the focal point of John’s day, eagerly waiting for Friday, drinking up every interaction he had with you. You’d stop to say hi to him now, and he could feel your eyes on him when he was lifting. On Thursday, he could’ve sworn he caught you staring at his ass, your guilty eyes rising up to meet his. He wanted to laugh, settled for a grin, just to watch the way you flushed, a slight crease in between your eyebrows.

He asks you for dinner instead of drinks, decides a meal is the proper way to do things, not entirely trusting himself to be a complete gentleman with liquor running through him. He picks a quiet restaurant, something he knows, a place with all the exits mapped out in his brain. He offers to pick you up, and is rewarded with a line of smiley faces that would irritate him from anyone else. He thinks of the time he made Soap do push ups for slipping an emoji into an official report, and the memory of the Scotsman’s indignance makes him laugh, carrying him lightly out the door and towards your flat.

You open the door with a flourish and it takes all of John’s self restraint to keep his jaw from dropping. You’re in a sundress, soft and flowing, shoulders bare and your hair down. You smell like peaches. Price freezes, staring at you silently until you bite your cheek nervously.

“Do I look alright?” You ask, and it’s John’s turn to flush.

"You look lovely,” he says, remembering his manners, “are you ready?”

You nod, and he offers you his arm, leading you out to his car, opening the door for you. You smile at him in delight as he shuts the door, and he uses the walk around to the driver's side to try and recover some composure. He needed to pull himself together, couldn’t spend the entire time just staring at you. In the car it’s worse, the radio playing quietly, the scent of peaches stronger. He had lost his advantage, a feeling he disliked on principle, but fumbling for conversation like this hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager.

"So what do you do?” You ask into the silence, pulling John out of his thoughts. He pauses, trying to decide what he could reveal.

"I work in the military,” he says vaguely. “What about you? Professional marathon runner?”

You let out a snort, and Price smiles at you, eyes creasing at the sides as you launch into an explanation of your job. He likes the way you talk, he decides, the way that you constantly move your hands, your face changing, becoming more expressive the more you speak. He’s only half paying attention to the road now, relying on muscle memory to get you two to your destination, trying to memorize the way your nose crinkles, the quirk of your lips when you say something you think is funny. When you get to the restaurant, you wait patiently for him to come open your door, taking his offered hand with a small smile as he pulls you out of the car. When he orders a Bourbon, he laughs out loud at the look of disgust on your face.

“Not a fan of the finer things, are you, love?” Price teases.

"Not a fan of the taste of jet fuel, more like it.” You respond with an eye roll. John wonders if he’s ever smiled this many times in a day before. He loses himself in you, doesn’t realize the night has grown long until the candles on the table have burnt low. The energy shifts on the way back to your flat, and Price finds himself covertly stealing glances, trying to decipher your thoughts. He can feel your stare branding his skin, turns to meet your eye to find you’ve conveniently turned away just in time.

"May I walk you up?" He asks, watching the streetlights shift and change your face.

"You're quite the gentleman," you respond, smiling softly.

Price didn't realize he was capable of loving a flat before yours. It was full of life, posters and photographs covering the walls, brightly colored mugs cluttering the sink, your clothing shed haphazardly around, the bed unmade and stuffed to the brim with pillows.

You make nervous apologies for the mess, clear him a place to sit down. He takes his hat off and thinks of his own flat, bare and cold with the bed made to army regulation every day, clean but dusty, an empty shell. He likes it here, in this cluttered, lively place, more than he thought he would. He would help you keep it clean, he thought to himself, make the bed in the morning, do the dishes. His chest got tight at the idea of waking up next to you, of being allowed in this sacred, private space. He dug his nails into his palms and cleared his throat. For God's sake you'd only been on one date.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" You ask, rustling around in the kitchen, and John wonders what mug you'll pick out for him.

The mug is pink and heart shaped, ridiculous in his large, rough hands, and you're laughing at him.

You're laughing at him and the tea is warm and strong and perfectly made, and your eyes shine in the low light as you sip from your own mug, a perfectly respectable blue, shaped like a normal mug. John sends you the disappointed look that normally sends people running, and you let out a delighted squeal, nearly spilling your perfectly made tea in your efforts to mock him.

"If I'd have known you were gonna be funny, I wouldn't have walked you up," he grumbles, but the twitch of a smile underneath his mustache gives him away, sends you into another round of laughter.

It's late when he finishes the last sip of tea, and he wonders if you can feel the switch. You're closer than before, heads leaning together unconsciously, nearly whispering. It's been a long time for Price, longer than he'd like to admit, but he still knows the game, leaning down towards you, his eyes on your lips. He places one of his large hands on your knee, feeling the soft material of your dress. It stings his ego more than he'd like to admit when you pull back, eyebrows pinching together.

"I have an early day tomorrow " you say softly. Your eyes drift towards the door, then back to Price, apologetic and regretful. He wonders if he's spooked you and pushes down the impulse to touch you again. He pulls back, shifting out of your space.

"Don't let me keep you up then, love. I'll just get out of your hair." Price says, standing up and grabbing his hat. He places it back on his head and turns towards the door, wondering if this is goodbye. You trail after him.

"I'd like to see you again John." You say quietly, your voice suddenly shy again.

He pauses, one hand on the doorknob before turning to step closer to you. You let him enter into your space, but John wonders if he placed a gentle hand on your throat if he'd feel your heart humming. Instead, he reaches out, gently tilting your chin up. Your eyes slip close instinctively.

"I had a really nice time, love." John's voice rumbles low from his chest.

Then he leans in and captures your soft lips with his own, and he doesn't need to feel your pulse to know it's fluttering like a bird. He pulls back and smiles softly, before turning to leave your flat.

Part Two Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

[sgtjamesrogers]

“Sign here… and there you are, cheers!” 

The receptionist pushed a glasses case towards him across the desk, stowing his receipt and paperwork away in return. Roy looked at the smart-looking leather case with some amount of trepidation, as if it might grow teeth and bite him. 

He’s avoided this for as long as possible; he’s hated his eyesight going on him. It had been one of the first signs of his body giving up on him, and any of the potential solutions had felt too irritating to follow through on. Having to poke his finger into his eyes with contacts, LASIK would have made his night vision even worse, and glasses were a particularly irritating solution while he was an active athlete. 

Of course, being retired as well as seeing how much blurrier road signs continued to get, meant that it would be irresponsible to keep avoiding the issue. Glasses would simply have to do. Roy stowed the case in his jacket pocket with a nod to the receptionist, he wasn’t going to wear them out of the optometrist’s office. He still had a little pride left, after all. 

Roy found Nelson Road a busy hive of activity, and the full-tilt chaos of the season left the car park full to bursting. He felt his dread grow as he parked, but took his new frames out of the case and put them on anyway. No way out but through, after all. He just didn’t want to hear everyone being so kind about them. 

Well. Tartt would probably be less than kind given his proclivity for ‘grandad’ jokes and jabs about his age. The idea that at least one person wouldn’t be painfully positive was almost a relief. 

The first person he encountered was Isaac, who gave him a considering nod as they passed each other on the stairs. 

“Cool frames bruv,” he said over his shoulder, taking the steps two at a time. “They pull the whole look together. S’cool that you’re doing more fashion!” 

Kill me, Roy thought as he descended toward the dressing rooms. It was like a repeat of Phoebe’s gift shirt, with multiple people in the corridor stopping to stare and pretending they hadn’t. Preferably before I get to my desk. 

“Oh!” Nate blurted out as Roy entered the coaching offices. His forehead scrunched with dismay as Roy lifted his eyes to him, like the noise had been an unstoppable reflex at the sight of Roy Kent in glasses. It took everything in him not to turn on his heel and walk out again.

“What?” Roy growled, stalking over to his chair and sitting heavily. 

“They look nice,” Nate said helplessly, gesturing to his face with one hand. “The frame shape suits your face, is that…not what you want to hear?” Roy was staring at his desk, but in his peripheral, he could see Nate cast desperate confused looks at Beard, currently kicked back in his chair reading Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon. 

“You look the same as you always do,” Beard said without looking up. “There. Happy?” 

“Yes,” Roy grumped, and then frowned at the book’s cover. “Can I borrow that after you’re finished?” 

“Ay coaches,” came the voice in the doorway, the low voice and ‘soft a’ pronunciation signaling the arrival of Jamie Tartt. “Colin’s not going to ask so I came instead, everyone’s talking about–” His voice halted like someone had pointed a remote at him and clicked ‘off’. Roy looked up from his desk. 

“Talking about what?” He asked, unable not to sneer through the words. “Come on, let’s fucking hear it. You’ve had to be saving up all sorts of material for a day like today. This must be early Christmas to you.” Then he really looked at Jamie. “Have you already been at cardio?” 

“Mm,” Jamie said, nodding slowly as he stared at Roy. He did look like he’d been on a treadmill, the apples of his cheeks a pinky-red that was creeping towards his ears. “What? Have I been at what?” 

“Cardio,” Roy repeated, voice raising in growing disbelief. He should never have put the glasses on, the second he did the whole world went off like milk curdling in his fridge. Jamie shook his head just as slowly in response. He looked almost dazed. 

“Mm, not cardio. Not since my usual when I got up this morning,” he said, sounding out each word like a step where he couldn’t quite find his footing. He screwed up his mouth afterward, lips working like there were other words he might say that refused to be located. Colin was behind his right shoulder just outside of the office, squinting hard at the back of Jamie’s head. 

Nate reached and felt Jamie’s forehead with the back of his fingertips, his earlier bemused nerves now burnt away with concern. “Are you coming down ill?” 

Jamie jumped like he’d been electrocuted, eyes widening first at Roy, and then at Nate. 

“Ill? No, nah, I’m grand,” he said, a little too loudly. “Picture of health.” He stepped backward out of the office, bumping into Colin and continuing to backpedal. “I think I left my— phone! I left my phone, in the…in the toilets!” He vacated the dressing room so quickly, he might have left a Jamie-shaped cloud of dust hanging in the air, like a Looney Tune. 

Roy shoved his glasses up his forehead, scrubbing with annoyance at his eyes with the backs of his knuckles. The glasses were clearly cursed, there were no two ways about it.

[astaroth1357]

The MC Accidentally Kisses the Brothers

Due to incredibly popular demand (and because it’s a cute prompt).

Lucifer

It was just a childish prank, but pretty much all of Satan’s pranks were childish at their core (even the more homicidal ones).

This one wasn’t even that bad in the grand scheme of things. The angry boi was just trying to see if he could get Lucifer to fall down the stairs...

...admittedly, saying it out loud makes it sound much more cruel than intended. But this is Lucifer we’re talking about. A tumble down a flight or two wouldn’t leave him too injured… Unfortunately for Satan, he wasn’t the only one who took a tumbling.

The plan was pretty simple, put an enchantment on the stairs to the Conference Hall, lay in wait, and trigger it right as Lucifer was leaving a meeting. He’s always the last to go, so it should have been foolproof.

But the MC hung back to leave with Lucifer that day and just so happened to jump forward right as Satan was timing his step… getting themselves thrown down along with him.

Fortunately for them both, the firstborn’s reflexes were astounding. He was already holding the MC in his demon form and cushioning their fall before they could even hit the first stair. And it was quite a long way down…

By the time they hit the bottom, Lucifer had them fully wrapped up in his wings and Satan couldn’t what had happened until they unfolded… whereupon he saw the MC laying on top of Lucifer with their lips far FAR too close together for his liking…

Yeah, that backfired pretty hard and Satan was left fuming over it for days… Not that Lucifer minded in the slightest.

Mammon

Sometimes when Mammon does his photoshoots he brings the MC along as one part cheerleader, one part pit crew. It’ll be their job to hold onto his stuff, make sure he has enough to drink, and generally stand there and be impressed by his awesomeness until they leave.

Well that day things had been going well… until a particularly nosy worker started hovering around the MC too much for Mammon’s liking.

He tried to put it past him, since he had a shoot to do and all, but he snapped about halfway through when the guy kept trying to force a conversation with the very not interested MC.

Oh, he was ready to tell him off. He made the photographer stop mid-shoot just so he could march over there himself and give that asshole a piece of his mind! He was going to absolutely tear him to shreds and then-!!

Okay, that didn’t exactly happen because right as he got up to the MC, ready to start shouting, our lovable moron tripped… again…

But unlike the first time, where he more or less face-planted the floor, this time he smacked lips first into a surprised MC in front of the jerk he was trying to scare off.

… Yeah. He meant to do that.

And that’s exactly how he played it off, keeping his lips right where they were and flipping the other guy off so he’d leave them alone (which, thankfully, he did).

Totally what he intended to do and he'll swear so to this day.

Leviathan

… how in the world do you mess up the Kabedon?

Levi had seen the move done hundreds of times before in anime. It’s a very simple concept: put someone up against a wall, put one of your hands by their head, and just lean. That’s it. Not rocket science.

Levi had been mentally preparing himself for this moment for days… He may or may not have even practiced this (very simple) move in his room countless times. He genuinely thought he was ready to try it on the MC.

So, on one of those rare days he went to RAD, he gave it a shot. He waited until he and the MC were walking alone together, got them up against the wall, annnnd…

...rather than touching the wall next to them, his hand completely missed any sort of hard surface because in his panic he stopped them right next to a blind corner…

Naturally, his body fell forward some but since there wasn’t that much space between them by that point he uh… he… well he now knows their preferred Chapstick.

No matter what the MC’s reaction ultimately was, he leapt away from them like he just licked an electric fence and bolted.

His embarrassment genuinely cannot be overstated... He practically broke a window in his attempt to get the hell out of there and back to his room, where he didn’t leave for three days straight… Poor Levi...

Satan

It started out as easily one of the best days of his life. 

The MC, the exchange students, and the Royal Court had all decided to surprise him on his birthday with a Devildom-style cat cafe… Kitties were on practically every surface around him! 

Admittedly, Satan had been pretty distracted throughout most of his time there. There were just so many kitties for him to see that he sort of forgot about the MC in the process…

So in order to get his attention a little, the MC thought it would be cute to pick up one of the furry bundles and hold it in front of their face, doing that little thing where you pretended to “talk” for the cat and even waved one of its little paws at him.

They hadn’t predicted that Satan would find the display utterly, heart-meltingly adorable...

He attempted to plant a kiss on top of the furry critter’s head at the exact time that the MC brought the cat down their face entirely.

It took Satan a second or two to register that his lips were not, in fact, on a cat. And when he pulled back to see the MC’s shocked expression, the full gravity of his actions smacked him in the face like a falling log…

Cue a flustered rush to apologize while the MC hid their face back behind the confused kitty… Getting an accidental kiss in front of the prince of Hell and literal angels was pretty dang embarrassing...

At least the incident was taken in good spirits by most of the people in attendance (minus Luke, who was desperately trying to give MC his bottle of holy water like it was pepper spray by that point). 

Though after that point, Satan noticed that his “guests” kept passive-aggressively giving him cats until he was literally so buried in fluff he could barely move… probably not related, though. Probably.

Asmodeus 

It was another party night with Asmo and the MC at the Fall having a good time.

Now, Asmo was no stranger to Demonus and other assorted demonic beverages. You could say his tolerance is decent enough, but get a few too many in him and he does start to get a little off…

And a drunk Asmo is a very troublesome Asmo. 

The MC, bless their heart, was pretty much playing the sober babysitter to their demon friend when Asmo decided that he HAD to leave the club and get cupcakes right then. Being the good person they were, MC agreed to go with him, as long as he promised to stay with them and not wander off…

But they somehow managed to lose him within three blocks from the club. All they did was check their phone for directions and the guy bailed!!

Little did the MC know, while they were frantically searching for him Asmo hadn’t run away completely… He had just decided it was a great idea to play hide-and-seek at 2am and hid behind a nearby building.

It was his drunken giggling that eventually gave away his position, but he jumped out from behind the corner right as the MC was rounding it. Naturally, they both to collided. If hugging hadn’t been an instinctual action to Asmo by they point, they would have fallen down…

All they did ended up doing instead was getting caught in lip-lock due to Asmo’s sudden vice-grip.

Apparently he laughed and laughed all the way back to the House but his memory of it is pretty hazy… He’ll just have to get the MC to reenact it with him a few dozen times, that ought to jog his memory!

Beelzebub 

The MC was helping Beel out with his workout yet again and things had been going well.

Since Beel is pretty much a one-man army, his weights and routine are usually waaay too advanced for any human to be able to handle. So the MC is less his spotter and more a casual supporter/motivator than anything else.

And motivation was just what they were trying to provide with a fun little experiment of theirs… 

Ever heard of the “carrot-on-the-stick”? Well they decided to try something like that… literally. Just replace the carrot with a roast ham!

They put ham on a fishing pole, set Beel up on a treadmill, and dangled it closer or farther away based on his speed. In theory, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world... but in practice…? 

Well. Someone should have told them not to stand in front of him during this little trial...

Their motivation experiment did work for a few minutes… But soon enough Beel’s stomach got the better of his (marginal) self-control. They just weren’t expecting him to leap over the top of the treadmill...!

The smart thing to do would have been to drop the fishing pole or to just keep it still so Beel could grab the meat, but the MC reflexively drew the pole back behind them… thus putting them right in Beel’s path instead.

And that’s how they ended up caged under lord knows how many pounds of Beelzebub, thankfully kissing their lips rather than trying to chew them off…

Needless to say, Beel climbed off of them, red as a cherry, and the MC let him have that ham before the two agreed to never try this again. Whoopsie!

Belphegor 

Belphie likes sleep. 

Belphie likes cuddles. 

Belphie likes cuddling in his sleep.

Really this was bound to happen eventually…

The MC and Belphie were having a nice nap together in the attic and there wasn’t anything nefarious about it. Just two people snuggled up together in the same bed.

...snuggled up very close together in the same bed.

So close, in fact, that when the MC finally woke up and rolled over some to reposition themselves, they felt the soft lips of their companion brush up against their own.

They, of course, had the appropriate reaction of shock and embarrassment to this… but this cheeky fucker just smirked at them and let one eye slip open.

“What…? Is that it? It’ll take more than that to wake me up…”

Never mind the fact he was awake the whole time...

He really should have expected that pillow to the head, but after they struck the first blow, it was on now.

Don't worry. As it would turn out, an impromptu pillow fight also wakes him up just fine. Who'd have guessed?

[pigeontheoneandonly]

Routine

For @autodiscothings, whom I told I would write this thing about eleven million years ago.

The droning buzz of a hairdryer woke Nathaly Shepard from a sound sleep.

It took a solid minute to identify what she was hearing.  Another to raise her bleary eyes to the bedside clock.  0530.  Though an early riser by nature, it had been a very long night, they were in port, and she was relishing the thought of sleeping in, tucked warm into her own bed.

She rolled onto her back, and winced at a twinge in her hip.  Yes, a long and, ah, energetic night, and she had receipts to prove it.  Ones that seemed to get longer as she got older.  Shepard rubbed her eyes, old mascara flaking onto her fingertips, and reached out her arm across the sheets, fully intending to cuddle into Kaidan and go back to sleep.

And kept reaching, all the way to the far edge of the mattress.  Then patted the bedding, and finally looked up towards the bathroom. Right.  She could hear the hairdryer, ergo someone was using a hairdryer, and the only candidate was her intended body pillow.  Not that this answer made any more sense.  For all his years in the service and the early mornings that implied, she’d learned to schedule briefings after nine if she wanted any sense out of him.

Stifling a yawn, she dragged herself to sitting, shivering in the cold canned air of the ship. Wrapped the duvet around her shoulders like a cape and wandered to the coffee maker.  For a minute she made a bleary contemplation of the work required to load the machine, before deciding yesterday’s grounds still had some life in them and simply pressed start.

The hairdryer cut out.  Her ears rang in the sudden silence.  God, that thing was loud.  But as her hearing ramped back up into normal range, she detected another sound coming from the bathroom.  Whistling?

Shepard shuffled across the cabin.  Yes, definitely a whistle, off-key and a semblance of the same song they heard last night leaving Apollo’s.  She pressed her hand to the door’s haptic pad and it zipped open.

Kaidan stopped mid-bar and flashed her a smile.  Shirtless, a towel wrapped around his hips.  “Morning.”

Ordinarily she might have been distracted.  But instead, she stared in dismay at the dozen-odd tubes, canisters, and combs littering her sink.  “What is all… this?”

He raised his eyebrows.  “You don’t remember?”

At the shake of her head, he continued, “We were half asleep.  I said it would be hard to go back to a hot bunk after sleeping in the lap of luxury.”  Gesturing vaguely at her cabin.  “And you said to hell with that, and dragged us downstairs to collect my stuff.  I think you woke up half the crew scrounging around.”

A fuzzy memory of doing exactly that trickled back.  Exhausted Nathaly didn’t typically look after her interests quiet that well. “I guess that’s one awkward announcement we were spared.  But it doesn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

She picked up a jar.  “What is all this stuff?”

He gave it a glance.  “That one’s pomade.”

“Ok.”  Then it dawned on her, like an ancient horror rising from the sea.  “These aren’t all hair care products… are they?”

Hoping against every instinct and the evidence of her own eyes the answer was no.

Kaidan considered the array.  “Yeah. I mean, I always have to pick and choose to meet baggage allowance on deployment, and it’s been hard to find anything since the war started, but we make do.”  Then he got a look at her face.  “What?”

Shepard tread carefully.  “You’ve collected quite a few.”

“Well, you must have your own, right?  Since you lost most of your hair.”

That was delicately put.  Cerberus had shaved off eleven years of growth to better access her scalp, and in a little over a year it felt like it’d barely grown out at all.  Especially because she had to trim it to keep it healthy. Impulsively buzzing off the sides a few months after being resurrected hadn’t helped, either.  “I’m more of a wash and wear type.”

An expression of sudden understanding came over his face, a major mystery enlightened.  “You can’t do that with short hair. Especially not with all of it growing out of the top like that.”

“You can’t?”

“No.”  More than a bit of a suppressed chuckle behind that. “Come here.”

He pulled her into the bathroom.  She let the duvet fall off before it dragged through the puddle of water from his shower, and let Kaidan position her in front of the mirror.  He pressed his hand into her head, palm tickling over the buzzed portion above her ear.  “See how it’s sticking up here?”

The left side stood up perpendicular to her skull, a frozen tidal wave of red brushing up against his fingers.  “So? It’ll go down when I shower.”

“Which will only dry it into new and stranger patterns.”  His fingers combed through it with a fussiness that bordered on professional. “Let me show you an easy fix.  If you hate it, you can always wash it out.”

She heaved a sigh. But his hands felt good against her scalp.  “Fine.”

“Great.”  He seized a spray bottle.

A realization came over her.  “You’ve wanted to do this for years, haven’t you.”

“Well…”  He tilted his head back and forth.  “I always assumed you were rushed in the mornings. You get up so early.  I never realized you weren’t doing anything at all.”

Kaidan said this as if it were a great offense.  Which, considering his array of products, maybe it was.  She switched topics as he started to spray, lifting her hair to get at the roots.  “You know, it just occurred to me.  All these years and we’ve never done this.  The whole morning routine thing.”

“Gender-segregated bathrooms will get you every time.”  He scrutinized his work.

“I always thought hairspray came last.”

“It’s not—” Flabbergasted.  “Don’t tell me you’ve been in the navy this long and you’ve never heard of dry shampoo.”

Shepard snorted and leaned forward on the counter.  “Dry shampoo sounds like a wet sandwich.  Useless in every way.”

“It absorbs the grease.”

“So, now I’ve got a head full of greasy powder instead.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Is it possible for you to maybe curb the cynicism until I’m finished?”

This was not what she was looking for at the crack of dawn.  It was particularly not what she was looking for this morning.  But they’d come this far, so she might as well let him finish.  “If it comes out weird, you know I’ll never let you live it down.”

“A little confidence, please.”  But he smirked as he said it, and reached for another bottle.  The label had smudged.  He answered her unspoken question.  “Frizz control.”

She tilted her head to accommodate his motion.  “Feels oily.”

“It won’t when I’ve got it worked in all the way.”  His hands roamed her hair.  This ordeal felt as intimate as it did awkward.  Shepard had no idea which way to tip, emotionally.  Kaidan held her hostage by the roots.  All she could do was wait for it to be over.

Sure enough, as he combed the serum through, it became weightless on her hair—not that Shepard could see any difference in how it looked.  But Kaidan was just getting started.  “Great.  Now the big one.”

Her eyes widened as he pumped an entire ocean of white foam into his palm.  “That’s way too much—”

“Trust me.”

She watched it go into her hair.  “It looks like one of those idiot homemade shampoos.  Like I’ve got egg whites in my hair.”

Kaidan turned her around, so they were face to face, and she couldn’t see the mirror.  “Trust me.”

Shepard sighed and gave up all resistance.  His eyes were on her hair.  Hers fixed on his mouth, watching it thin and thicken as he worked, chewing it just the slightest bit when he got to a tricky part.  She hated standing silent like this.  Nowhere to go, nothing to do, because sometimes it felt like she’d missed him so much that she missed him still, now, even though he was here, right in front of her.  Like missing him was a groove worn down in her emotional treadmill.  A residual reflex.  Or like the metallic ghost of adrenaline in her mouth after she won an unexpected fight, lingering on after its purpose was spent.

All those things she didn’t want to remember came back when there wasn’t anything to say or do but wait.  The sound of his helmet hitting the shuttle frame on Mars.  How pale he got on the flight to the Citadel afterwards. Storming the Presidium in pursuit of Kai Leng, and hearing Bailey say over the comm all the Council’s guards are dead.

Something betrayed her, a flicker in her face, a slight stiffening of her posture, because Kaidan paused and lifted her chin with only slightly sticky fingertips.  “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” She forced an easy smile, reassuring. “I’m just… really happy you’re here.”

“Hmm.”  By all appearances, he didn’t totally buy it, but he only leaned forward and planted a light kiss on her mouth.  Then he made a few final adjustments, and spun her around.  “Ta-da.”

Shepard blinked. Her hand rose without any conscious thought and stopped bare millimeters from her hair.  “Can I touch it?”

“It’d be a piss-poor job if you couldn’t.”

Her fingers ran gently through the strands.  “It’s so soft.”

“Alcohol-free mousse is the way to go.”  He watched her in the mirror.

“It looks…” Intentional.  It had shape, and volume, more organized than natural thickness.  Not just a clump of red falling into her eyes.  “It’ll do.”

His face split into a smug grin.  Her glance was withering.  “Don’t think I’m going to let you do this every day.”

“Nah.  You’ll be doing it by yourself within a week.” Then he laughed as she gave him a shove. “Wanna bet?”

Shepard gave herself another look.  Very grudging.  “Well. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to do it like this, just sometimes.  Once in a while.”

He put his arms around her, kissed her cheek, and rested his chin on her shoulder.  “Despite what you’ve heard, change can be good.”

Her hand cupped his cheek, as she watched them together in the mirror, ridiculously domestic. Together.  “There’s at least one I could definitely get used to.”

His answering smile reached his eyes, and made it clear he knew she wasn’t talking about hair.

[stillness-in-green]

The Way You Survive Is...  (1/4)

Growing up in a cult has more than its fair share of dangers, and that sort of damage has a tendency to travel, especially when no one involved knows how to brake.

Or, Rikiya and the road to the Claustro.

Author’s Note: It took me a long time to realize how massively disturbing Re-Destro’s silly one-off robot suit is on every possible level—as a reminder, it’s called a “burden-enhancing steel pressure mechanism” and namechecks claustrophobia—but when I did, I immediately started brainstorming this story. This first chapter particularly builds on some pre-existing headcanon about Rikiya’s upbringing and the people involved in it, but it’s readable as a stand-alone, and later chapters will feature Rikiya’s canonical inner circle — as well as Shigaraki and Spinner, eventually—much more prominently.

Mind the tags, folks; this one is A Lot.

———      ———      ———      ———

Chapter One: The Way the Mind Will Lean

“You’ll do well,” Anchor, Rikiya’s guardian, told him the morning it began, clearing away breakfast.  “You’ve been making great progress so far, and Quarter is one of our best.”

Rikiya was newly thirteen and had lived with Anchor for the last few years.  A bull heteromorph with an immobilization power, he’d been in the inner circle of Rikiya’s grandfather and had been involved in training Rikiya’s mother as well, and so when Rikiya’s mother had passed, to Anchor’s care Rikiya had gone.

“What’s his meta-ability?” Rikiya asked, to which the old man only shook his head, his horns making the movement heavy and deliberate.

“There’s a process to teaching, and I wouldn’t want to interfere with his.  You’ll find out in good time.”  Anchor gave Rikiya one of his small, proud smiles.  “No need to keep me company for the dishes.  Rampart’s waiting.”

Rikiya nodded and took his leave.  Rampart, Rikiya’s driver and bodyguard for as long as he could remember, saluted when he came down the steps, but other than the usual pleasantries, it was a quiet drive, out of Anchor’s spacious, secluded neighborhood and towards the center of town.

“Nervous?” Rampart asked eventually, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“A little.”  Rikiya smiled, folding his hands together in his lap.  “But that’s a good thing, in my case.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rampart replied, returning his attention to the road.  Keeping the smile on in case he looked back, Rikiya studied the man’s reflection.  His brows had knitted faintly downward and he drummed his fingers on the wheel—one of his nervous habits.  He’d been more closed-off around Rikiya for the last few years, ever since his mother’s death had made the passage of the mantle irrevocable; Rikiya wondered sometimes what the elders must have told him back then.  Or if it wasn’t the elders or the mantle at all—after all, he and Rikiya’s mother had been very close.

“Any advice for me?” Rikiya tried, tone light, after the second time Rampart’s lips twitched and curled around the beginnings of—something, only to resettle without speaking.

“Hah.”  Rampart’s head ducked around a crooked smile.  “Well, I can’t say too much.  I’ve never been through Quarter’s whole course, just fought him a few times in the bouts over the years.  I’ve watched him take down warriors twice his size and half his age.  And he’s been a teacher for a long time now.”

“A good one?”  He’s worried about something.  It showed in his narrowed eyes, not to mention the lack of a straight answer.

“As if we’d send you to anyone but our best.  Just…”

“Just?”  Rikiya considered leaning forward and wrapping his hands around the back of the headrest like he might have when he was younger.  He had been younger then, though, and not the Grand Commander.  He stayed put, back straight against the seat.

“His meta-ability’s…”  Rampart eased to a stop at a red light.  Freed for a few seconds of the need to watch the road, his eyes closed.  When they opened again, Rikiya knew the moment was gone.  Rampart shot him a leashed smile through the mirror.  “He’s a strong one.  You’ll learn a lot from him.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rikiya replied, returning the smile as he pressed his fingers, one by one, tighter against the backs of his hands.

————

Like most of the local trainers, Quarter worked out of the fitness center.  The floor was bustling when Rikiya and Rampart walked in, a general hubbub that morphed into an organized one as people caught sight of him and hastily stepped off of treadmills or stopped cold in the middle of floor routines to salute.

It does the Army good to see your strength, Sanctum had told him the morning of the funeral.  I know it can be hard, but it will make you stronger, too, in the end.

And so Rikiya smiled, murmured a few words to Rampart at the check-in desk, and stepped away to make the rounds.

Elsewhere in the facility, more organized training was underway—a room full of emitters sparring, a yoga class where everyone was stretching out some different metamorphic limb—but the employees must have been forewarned; none of the classes were halted as Rikiya followed Rampart deeper into the building.  The ceiling was higher in the back, rows of high windows streaming light into a room with a climbing wall, a weight room, an enormous indoor swimming pool Rikiya eyed enviously as they passed.  They stopped at none of them, but rather passed on out a rear exit that opened to a breezeway.  The covered walk lead to an exterior building with its own small parking lot and a glass door beyond which Rikiya could see nothing but a small waiting room.  A keycard reader sat mounted on the wall next to an intercom.

“Ready?” Rampart asked as they walked up to the door, and when Rikiya nodded, he reached up and rang the buzzer.

“Refinement Training,” came the answer after a long few seconds, a crisp male voice.

“This is Rampart, here with the Grand Commander.”  He kept holding the button down and looked down at Rikiya, tilting his head slightly inward.

“Good morning,” Rikiya said, taking the hint, and Rampart released the button.

“Of course, of course,” said the man on the other end of the speaker, audibly warming.  “Please come in.”  A small red light on the scanner flipped to green.

The area inside was exactly as small as it had looked from outside, a narrow door on the left and a reception desk, currently unoccupied, built into the back wall.  A broader door on the right opened just as Rikiya’s gaze fell on it.

Quarter’s eyes were the first thing Rikiya noticed—probably the first thing most people noticed.  His irises were a striking shade of dark gold, standing out like gleaming coins against deep blue sclera, both slightly larger than life behind a pair of oval glasses.  His gaze skimmed over Rampart then dropped down to Rikiya as a pleased smile spread over his face.

“Grand Commander.”  He saluted along with the greeting.  “I’m honored.  Please, come in.”

Rikiya nodded but took a moment to look him over first—other than the eyes, Quarter seemed unassuming enough.  He was an older man—older than Rampart, at least, though if he wasn’t younger than Anchor, he wore it more smoothly, hair still black all the way through, his features both mild and mildly lined.  He wasn’t dressed for an intensive work-out—a gray knitted sweater and black slacks—but beneath the clothes, his build looked trim and fit.  Not an excess of anything noticeable, really, except his eyes.

Of course, looks didn’t mean much in the long run.

Rikiya stepped over and through the door.  The hallway beyond was narrow, marked by a line of lockers and a few small doors, as well as a water fountain beside another broad door on the far end.

“I normally run first-time sessions for an hour or so,” Quarter said as Rampart followed them in.  “I can get a feel for where you are in your development, what you’ve been focusing on, what you need to improve.  Then when I see you again Tuesday, I’ll have a regimen more tailored for you specifically.  Does that sound all right?”  At Rikiya’s nod, he looked up at Rampart.  “This will be three times a week, correct?”

“Saturday mornings, and Tuesday and Thursday evenings,” Rampart confirmed.

“Excellent.  You can use the personal parking next time, then; no need to hike all the way from the front entrance.”  Quarter turned his attention back to Rikiya and gave him another once-over, this time focusing on his clothes.  “You can use one of the lockers here to keep a change of clothes or shoes in—there is a dressing room.  I have some spare combination locks or you can bring one from home, if you’d prefer.”

“One of yours would be fine,” said Rikiya, who did not actually own a personal lock of any kind and was moderately surprised at the assumption that he did.

“All right, then.”  Quarter nodded.  “Let’s get started.  It’s right through here.”

Inside the door by the water fountain was, at last, the room where Rikiya would be spending the next few months in enhanced training.  It looked something like a dance studio without all the mirrors, windowless, the ceiling low and lined with recessed lights.  Thick blue exercise mats lined most of the floor, here and there showing signs of wear and tear, singe-marks and scores dotted over the vinyl fabric.  It was, otherwise, entirely empty.

“Do you know why you’re here?” came Quarter’s voice from behind him.  Rikiya turned to see Quarter looking down at him placidly.  Away behind him, Rampart had taken up his watch at the door.

Rikiya nodded.  Quarter went on looking at him, expectant, so he added, “To take the next step in training my meta-ability.”

“No.”

Rikiya blinked, brow furrowing at the answer.  No?  What does he mean, no?  That’s what everyone’s been calling this since Anchor first brought it up.

“That’s what I was told,” he responded at length.

"That’s only a facet of it.  You are here to learn how better to be a warrior for Liberation.”  The trainer saluted again at the invocation; Rikiya echoed the gesture reflexively.   “Destro’s noble cause demands much of all of us.  We undertake this so that one day, all meta-humans can walk free.”

“For Liberation.”  The words fell easily from Rikiya’s lips.  The swerve from pleasantry to ideology would have to be much more out-of-nowhere than this for him to trip up on the basic tenets.  Quarter nodded.

“You,” he said, dropping smoothly down to one knee and looking up into Rikiya’s eyes, “are the Grand Commander of the Meta Liberation Army.  Your words are Destro’s words.  I am but a devotee to the cause.  Whatever you tell me, I must obey.  So tell me: is it Destro’s wish that you hone yourself into a better, stronger version of the you you are now?”  His smile had drained away, leaving his face with a sterner cast.

The memory of Rampart’s hesitation in the car stole treacherously across Rikiya’s mind, a flutter of anticipation in his chest.  He pressed the salute harder against his forehead and nodded.

“It will be difficult.  At times, you may wish to stop, to run away.  But to run away from this is to fail the cause.”  Quarter moved his hand to Rikiya’s shoulder.  "I know you don’t want that.  That is why you must tell me now that you wish to see things through to the end.“

"I do,” Rikiya answered, dropping his arm back to his side.  He stood as straight as he could manage under Quarter’s grip without activating his meta-ability.  The stress spots on his brow lay still and controlled.  "I won’t fail.“

"Everyone fails.”  Quarter intoned the words; they hung, heavy and resonant, in the room, as if the walls had leaned in closer to hear them.  "What you must learn—what you are here to learn—is to get back up.  To not use your failure as an excuse to stay down.”  He leaned back slightly, though his hand remained.  “I need to hear the words from you out loud.  Give me my orders.“

Rikiya hesitated.  The air in the room felt heavy, a weight pressing against his skin from all sides like he was standing at the bottom of a swimming pool.  If it weren’t for Quarter holding him down, he surely would have been floating away, ejected up towards the surface.

He forced himself to breathe.  Think of the future, he reminded himself.  Think of what’s at stake.  He swallowed down the urge to look towards Rampart, instead focusing harder on Quarter.

"Teach me,” he said, hands curling into fists at the quaver in his voice.  “For as long as you have to.”

“Yes, Grand Commander.”  Quarter squeezed his shoulder once more and, finally, climbed back up to his feet.  “Now then, show me your meta-ability.”

And the walls closed in.

————

It was later.

Rampart had left.  Quarter had gone and talked to him, words too quiet to hear over Rikiya’s ragged breathing.  And then Rampart had left.

Rikiya rallied for calm as Quarter’s meta-ability pressed in around him again.  The invisible barrier boxed him in on all sides and was still compressing, a horrible sense of the very air crushing tighter and tighter around him.  He could smell the sweat soaking through his clothing and even jostling an elbow out too far bumped him up against a solid wall.

“I understand you’ve developed a new application of your family line’s power,” Quarter said from somewhere behind him.  “Show me.”

Rikiya half-turned his head, trying to get a bead on where Quarter was standing.  “You don’t,” he said unevenly, “have any targets in here.”

“You did see the damage to the floor mats, didn’t you?” the voice asked.  “We’ll work on accuracy later; right now, I’m only finding out how much work you need to do.  Just underhand a toss across the floor.”

Black stress dripped down Rikiya’s arms to pool in his cupped palms, the smoothest externalization he’d ever managed. He shaped it in trembling hands, waiting for the walls to come down.

“Well?”

“The—your meta-ability.”  The air grew heavier again.  Rikiya struggled to get his breathing under control.  His body ached to swell up and burst the unseen cage.  Was it solid?  Was it air-tight?  The thought sent another jolt of alarm through him, swelling the stress bomb in his hands.  “Take it down so—”

“Take it down?” Quarter asked, not quite incredulous.  “No.  Why would I?”

“It’s in the way,” Rikiya choked.  Isn’t it?  Is it one-sided?  Can he open gaps in it?  As he racked his mind, tremors spreading up to his arms, Quarter walked back around in front of him.  Hands clasped behind his back, he studied Rikiya with raised eyebrows.

“I would have thought you’d have figured it out by now.  There’s no barrier, boy, no invisible wall.  it’s all in your mind.”  He reached out, smooth and deliberate, and gave a light flick to Rikiya’s forehead, as if he was rebuking a child.  Not for an instant did the pressure relent.  “Everything you experience with me will be.  Now do as I say.”

Cheeks hot, Rikiya shuffled half a step around.  He drew back an arm and immediately winced back from the wall his mind still found too convincing.  What if he’s lying?  That’s ridiculous.  In training or not, I’m the Grand Commander of the Army.  No one lies to me.

He still couldn’t make his arm follow through.

————

The room spun around him wildly, too hot, too cold, and his control frayed through yet again, black beads of corporeal power plummeting towards the floor like iron ingots and bursting into nothing, stress swelling the size of his limbs, pressing him against the walls, a weight on his back like a bed of nails, prickling pain and a swell of nausea—

“—better than this,” said the cool voice through the roaring in Rikiya’s ears as he dropped to all fours, gagging on nothing.   I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe—!

“How disappointing.”

————

It was, again, later.

Quarter’s hand landed on his shoulder and Rikiya flinched.  Exhausted as he was, stress mottled across the backs of his hands; his bloated fingertips pressed creases into the floor mats as he sucked in air through his teeth.

“Well,” Quarter remarked, “control issues aside, you’re quite the wellspring, my Grand Commander.  We’re going to have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Rikiya screwed his eyes closed, fighting not to shrink back.  Breathe, breathe.  His breath still felt raw in his throat, his head pounding.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”  The trainer dropped down to one knee and lifted a towel to Rikiya’s face, cool and damp.  Rikiya looked up.  Quarter smiled, an even, level thing that came nowhere near the blue-black pits of his eyes.  “And we’ll tell Rampart how strong you were today.”  His hand didn’t move.  Over his shoulder, the bare walls swam in Rikiya’s vision.

Rikiya nodded.

————

“Let’s open a window,” Rikiya told Koku a week later, the two of them doing schoolwork in the sitting room. “It’s a nice day out.”

His friend gave him a disbelieving look, then leaned back to look out the window. “Are you joking? It looks like it’s going to rain any time now.”

“Then it’ll be a nice breeze.” He smiled—easy, natural, well-practiced.

“If you say so,” Koku replied, still with a measure of skepticism. All the same, he got up and levered open the window.

The room cooled immediately, the leaves of Anchor’s house plants murmuring. The brush of air on his skin eased the knot that had been gradually tying itself tighter in Rikiya’s stomach. It did, in fact, smell like rain.

“So how’s your training with Quarter going?”

Rikiya’s smile twitched once at the question. The smell of sweat filled his nose, a hint of bile at the back of his throat.

“Very well. I’m learning a lot,” he answered, barely hearing the words. He made a show of stretching to camouflage his grimace. “Did—you ever train under him, Hanabata?”

Koku strolled back over and dropped back down to the cushion across the table from him. “No, my meta-ability works on other people; it’s not so good for one-on-one work like that. I do my training with Idol and the third regiment. Or my uncle, when he’s in town.”

“Right.” Rikiya nodded understanding and straightened back up, returning the smile to its place. “You’ll have to take me along someday.”

Koku shot him a pleased grin. “Of course. Whenever you want. And same to you.”

That was never going to happen. Quarter hadn’t even let Rampart into the room after the first day.  It’s a matter of morale, my Grand Commander. None of your followers would want to see you like this.

Rikiya laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as awkward to Koku as it did in his own ears. “Right.”

———      ———   End Chapter 1   ———      ———

Author’s Note Part Deux: Aside from wanting to examine how something as massively fucked-up as the Claustro came about, this story is also a result of my looking at the Liberation Army and thinking, “Okay, I was pretty nice about this when I was writing about you all for MLA Week, but…”

I wanted to take a look at someone who’s considerably less righteous about the cause than the True Believers I wrote about all week long for MLA Week, because an environment like the Liberation Army is fertile ground for exactly the sort of danger that Quarter represents. Frankly, there’s every chance in the world that, if he’d been brought up in more normal circumstances, Quarter would have been content enough to subtly use his quirk to clear out long lines ahead of him at the DMV or make people who were being obnoxious in public nervous enough for reasons they couldn’t articulate that they’d slink out. Instead, he was brought up in the MLA, which exacerbated and enabled all his worst traits.

Rikiya is, suffice to say, in for a rough few months.

[pointedheel]

NIHKEE: WAKE.

You’re having trouble breathing now.

You’re usually fine with your recuperacoon. Sopor slime is heavy, denser than most liquids, but not to the point that the inch above your chest would cause problems. Despite that, each inhale takes a little more effort, as if you were underneath several feel of slime.

You glance down at its surface, watching dark blue spread further across it with each moment. Blood and sopor slime won’t mix, like water and oil, leaving one sitting in a layer over the other. It’s not a particularly uncommon sight for you, even if there’s currently far more than you’re used to. Not enough to be dangerous, but enough that you won’t be able to see much slime by the time you wake up.

You close your eyes and exhale again, clenching your teeth at the pain in your back. You didn’t think the terror broke any bones before, but you’re starting to reconsider that. A hairline fracture, maybe? Nothing to worry about, and nothing you can do about either. You don’t have the sort of shit you need to deal with torso injuries, let alone ones you can’t even reach. As great as your huge fucking muscles are, you haven’t had that sort of flexibility in sweeps.

The aches and pains covering you fade a little, and you drift off thinking comparing physical strength and dexterity.

All at once the pain fades, and you open your eyes to the sun.

You flinch, pulling your face underneath the slime around you out of reflex. You’ve hardly stared at the sun in the past, and you’re not about to start, but you know what it looks like. Giant, bright, and overwhelmingly painful to look at.

You float in your recuperacoon for several long moments, your brain still waking up and figuring out what you just saw. It wasn’t the sun, obviously. You're indoors, in your hive, in a room that doesn’t have a giant open ceiling. Besides that, it’d have hurt a lot more if you did look at the sun. Just glancing out windows during the day can give you a headache, let alone staring at the fucking sun.

After a minute of psyching yourself up that you aren’t about to get burnt, and even longer without any fresh air, you resurface.

The block you’re in is yours, obviously. It’s identical to the one you just fell asleep in in every way, from the posters on the walls to the custom treadmill in one corner. You had it specially made so that, in the event you could keep up, it would shoot knives at your ankles. Significantly less dangerous with only one leg, but still effective.

Everything is exactly as it should be with three exceptions;

First, everything is now indigo, regardless of its previous color. The only exceptions to that are your clothes, which have been turned into silky yellow pajamas.

Second, the fucking door is gone. It’s just wall now. Did someone do all of this while you were asleep? Did they unscrew your door, remove the frame, and then seamlessly repair the whole wall when they were done? Were you that heavy a sleeper? Have you been in a fucking coma? What sweep is it???

Third, each wall now has a window leading outside, which should be physically impossible. Your block is like, in the middle of your hive. Did they take the whole thing along with the door? Why’d they take the door in the first place. To trap you? If that’s the case, why did they cut open a bunch of windows? If you want to leave you can just climb out.

Or not, apparently.

The sight that greets you from the windowsill is indescribable. On top of removing your entire hive, they’ve apparently put your freshly repainted block at the top of a golden tower. Below you is an equally golden city, chained to a second golden planet.

You spend a long time just staring. What else can you do, trapped at the top of a tower with no visible way down, teleported to what you can only guess is an alien planet. You don’t know of any giant golden orbs chained to alternia, at the very least. You also don’t recognize what you can only assume is a sun, despite the fact it is neither red nor blinding.

You step away from the window and immediately trip, falling directly onto your somehow no longer fucked up back. At first you think your prosthetic got caught on something, but it couldn’t have.

Your prosthetic is gone.

You have your leg back.

[evilrubberducke]

Fanfic Request: IzuMina; Mina running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, the stress proving too much for Mina's heart, resulting in a massive heart attack and Izuku must revive her. Feel free to tweak this to your liking.

Thanks so much for the request. This ended up being so fun to write, I went a little bit longer than I intended. I hope you enjoy nonetheless, and have an excellent day!

Disclaimer: I have 0 medical knowledge, so any medical escapades should be taken with a massive grain of salt, and not attempted at home.

Summary: Preparation for midterms has left the entirety of Class 1A stressed out, but for one particular couple the stress is just the beginning.

Trigger warning: Heart attack

Also on AO3!

Izuku thought to himself for the thousandth time. He slammed his palm into the wall in frustration, cracking the plaster. After more than two years of intense training, even his unaugmented blows were a force to be reckoned with.

He sat outside Recovery Girl’s office on a small and surprisingly comfortable bench. He didn’t feel it though. His mind was stuck firmly on the girl lying in the office right now, wishing desperately that he could do something to help her

The signs had been there for days now, but he hadn’t heeded them. He’s let himself be brushed off, be distracted, be fooled. And now she was paying the price.

It was exam season at UA, and Mina had been both nervous beyond belief, and dedicated to the extreme. Coming into the midterms of their second year had left them all with a lot to prove, but Mina had even more reason to fight. She had been one of the few to fail the exams the first year, both written and physical. She’d come a very long way since that point, and the girl who now attended UA would have been difficult to recognize when compared to her past self.

She had thrown herself into training with great gusto, putting in extra time after classes wrapped up for the day working on both her physical strength and sparring. The class had gained a healthy respect for the pink girl’s talent and reflexes when it came to hand to hand. She wasn’t winning every fight, but she was winning a majority, and in their class that was worthy of great respect.

Done with the physical part of the day, she would bury her nose in a textbook while she ate. She somehow managed to make conversation while doing this, but it was half hearted at best. Her usual bubbly presence had dimmed, and it brought the mood of the entire class.

For Izuku, it was particularly difficult.

The pair hadn’t been on a date in two weeks, which was unusual for them. Mina loved coming up with ideas for them to spend time together, even if it was just a brief jaunt to a shop she had heard of near campus that had just opened.

She still cuddled with him in the evenings, like usual, but even that had taken on a different air. She did her best to steer the conversations, trying to get him to talk about the hero battles he had watched religiously growing up. At first he had been relieved, thinking this was a new method of stress relief she was trying. Eventually he realized that this was just another study method for her.

A part of him had wanted to say something, but every time he tried to, he stopped short. Her training was beyond intense, yes, but was he really one to talk. His own training for UA had been very draconian. So instead of saying something, he tried to be there for her as best he could, slipping in jokes and funny stories as they talked into the evenings while he ran his fingers through her hair.

It was two days before the exams were set to start, and Mina was looking run down. Her skin had lost a lot of its usual luster, and her eyes were half open at the best of times. The entire class had noticed, and had tried to bring it up gently to her.

She brushed it off, making a crack about Izuku keeping her up too late the night before, wiggling her eyebrows all the while.

Most took the joke as a good sign. It was a return to form for their friend, if only slightly. Besides, there was only two more days till exams. After that, everything would be fine.

Izuku was even more worried though. He’d had to practically throw her out of his room the night before, trying to get her to go to bed. She had promised him she would go right to sleep. She didn’t know that he’d followed her up later, and had seen the light coming from under her doorway as she studied. She didn’t know he’d heard her muttering, telling herself that she needed to push harder to keep her place, to stand on the same stage as her classmates. To fight on the level of the boy she loved.

He hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t have the words to reassure her, because he knew those questions all too well. Knew how they ate at you in the dark hours. Knew how they pushed you to fight, for fear of what answering them meant.

So he had turned, and left. And later, he would regret that decision immensely.

“Mind if I join you?” Mina asked, breaking Izuku out of his funk.

He’d been taking a rare opportunity between classes to put in some extra training time of his own before exams. He was confident when it came to academics, and had a few tricks up his sleeve for the practical portion, but a little extra strength training never hurt.

He slowed the treadmill down to a much more sustainable pace, and nodded at her. He was panting to hard at the moment for any real conversation to take place.

Mina fired up her own treadmill, quickly matching his pace. The couple had trained together quite a bit during their time at UA, so matching each other had become almost second nature.

They ran in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being their panting breaths.

Finally, Izuku could take it no longer. “Mina, can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure” She said, panting heavily. Her eyes were trained forward, but Izuku could see she wasn’t really focused on her movements. She seemed to be drifting.

“I….I’m worried about you. I get that you want to do well on the exam, but it feels like you’re pushing yourself way too hard.”

“I’m fine” she said, raising the speed on the treadmill a few notches. It takes her from a steady jog to the barest edge of a sprint.

“Mina, I haven’t seen you take a break in days. The exam is tomorrow. You need rest.” He’d said it as gently as he could, but it only seemed to make things worse.

“I don't… have time… for a break.” Mina panted. She’s running too fast, form starting to break down. Even still, she kept increasing the pace, not caring about her running form any more.

“Mina, you’re going to do fine tomorrow. You’re going to blow the test out of the water. But only if you rest.” A quick button press brought the treadmill he was using to a halt.

He turned to face Mina, taking in her loping strides that are just barely keeping pace with the treadmill. He takes in the arm held tight to her chest to fight against the pain she’s feeling. Her normally vibrant skin has faded and dulled, making her look more haggard than he’s ever seen.

He takes a moment to glance around the gym, thankful that they’re alone for once. He turns back to his girlfriend, and pulls out his last trump card.

“Frosting, can you stop for me?” It’s a private nickname, one the rest of the class will never hear uttered by either of them. It’s a name he only uses when he’s holding her close, said in whispers only she can hear. It’s a name that shows how much he cares for her.

It takes a moment, but she stops. The whir of the treadmill fades away, as do the thud of her footsteps, leaving only her gasping breaths.

It was then that Izuku realized something was very wrong. They had fought together and against each other many times over the last year and half. He knew what she looked like exhausted, and this was something very different.

“I-Izu I…..I don’t…. Something’s…..” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before she dropped like a stone.

Izuku lunged forward, barly catching her shoulder and keeping her head from smacking into the ground. Her horns scraped against his shoulder, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were on something much more important.

“Mina! Talk to me! Mina!”

She isn’t moving, head lolled back, eyes unfocused and unreactive.

“Mina!” He shook her as hard as he dared, but she didn’t respond. He placed his fingers on her throat and found only a weak pulse, her breath barely discernible.

His mind kicked into overdrive. He didn’t have anything resembling medical training, but he was sure this wasn’t a normal illness, or even exhaustion. This was something serious, and something he didn’t have the capacity to handle.

He scooped her limp form into his arms and called on his Quirk. Red lines of power surged across his limbs, resolving into bolts of green lightning. Strength rushed through him, and he broke into a flat out sprint, not caring about the small cracks he was leaving in the floor. They could be repaired. Mina could not.

His experience with Shoot Style payed dividends as he ran, letting him easily kick open doors as he went without breaking stride. He made a beeline for Recovery Girl’s office, leaping around and over students and other obstacles. He thought he heard some familiar voices calling his name, but couldn’t spare the time to see who it was.

It takes far too long to get to Recovery Girl’s office in Izuku’s opinion. Sure, with how much force he put behind every leap, the entire journey can’t have taken more than a minute, but that’s a minute that Mina might not have been able to spare.

He tried to kick the door open, forgetting that this one was a sliding style entry, rather than a swinging door. It flew off its hinges and crashed into the wall beyond. He mentally added it to the tab of things he was going to catch hell for later.

The office was well light, open, and completely empty. Recovery Girl was nowhere to be seen. Izuku felt his pulse quicken even more than it already had been. He’d been counting on her being there, to help Mina, or to tell him what to do.

A soft gasp from Mina drew his attention to her once more. Her eyes had rolled back in her head. Izuku checker her pulse, and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t feel anything.

He spun around, searching the office desperately for something to help, but found nothing. The instruments were all entirely foreign to him, and he couldn’t even begin to guess at their function.

“Midoriya?” Came a voice from behind him.

He turned, and saw Uraraka, Jirou, and Kaminari standing in the doorway, worried looks on their faces.

HIs eyes snapped to Kaminari, and in that moment he concieved a desperate plan. He lunged forward, grabbing Kaminari’s arm and dragged the boy into the office with him. He set Mina on the bed as quickly as he could without hurting her, then turned to his blond classmate.

“Mina’s heart stopped. I need you to shock her, right now.” His voice has an edge to it, that pierces through the panic. It lends an air to his words, that lets those who hear them know that what he’s saying isn’t a request, but an order. In the moment, none of them can quite place where they’ve heard such a tone before.

It’s only later that they will remember hearing it from their teachers in the many times that they’ve been in peril, or from pro heroes in dire straights.

It’s the tone of a Hero who’s saving someone’s life.

Kaminari blanches. He may be hearing the words, but the meaning behind them paralyzes him. He’s never attempted anything like this, isn’t even sure he can do it.

“Midoriya I-I can’t. I don’t know how to.”

A dozen scenarios run through Izuku’s head. He might be able to convince Kaminari to try, might be able to talk the blonde through his panic, but it will take much too long, and Mina can’t afford to wait that long. Instead, Izuku opts for the strategy that will get her the most help quickly.

It’s a quick calculation, weighing the damage it will do to his relationships and friends against the possibility of Mina suffering for even a second longer than necessary. The risk to his own body doesn’t even enter into the calculation.

Izuku keeps a file on every Quirk user he encounters, cataloging any strengths and weaknesses he observes, and remembering them in case he encounters a similar Quirk in the future. In doing this, he’s amassed quite a lot of observations about his classmate’s Quirks. He knows that Dark Shadow wilts in the light, that Tsuyu shuts down in the cold, and that Jirou is vulnerable to loud noises. Most importantly, he knows that Kaminari activates his Quirk instinctively when he takes damage unexpectedly.

Izuku placed his left hand on Mina’s heart, and grabbed Kaminari’s hand in his right. He activated One for All once more, counting on it to help him absorb most of the voltage that was  about to come. He sent a silent prayer that his resistance would be just enough to limit the damage, but not enough to block the electricity from reaching Mina entirely.

Then he broke Kaminari’s finger in one swift motion.

The effect is immediate. Electricity coursed through all three of them, and Izuku grit his teeth through the pain. It tore at his senses even as it coursed through his body, but he was more than passingly familiar with pain. After you’ve torn your body to pieces willingly to land a single punch, you learn how to deal with pain.

After a long second, he put as much willpower as he could muster into opening his hand and releasing Kaminari. The blond stumbled back, face devolving into a idiotic grin as the electricity began to fade.

Izuku only had eyes for Mina though. A long moment passed where nothing happened. Then Mina convulsed, and gasped. Objectively, it was a horrible, rattling gasp that should have sent shivers down Izuku’s spine, but in the moment it was the sweetest sound he could have heard.

The combination of relief and electrical shock finally overwhelm him, and he fell backwards, slamming painfully into the floor below, not even making a move to catch himself.

Uraraka rushed forward to help her friend, and Jirou did the same for Kaminari. The rapid fire events had left them reeling, and they were only just now catching up.

“What happened in here?” Recovery girl asked as she stepped through the destroyed entryway. She looked more than a little upset to see her carefully tidied office in shambles. When she caught sight of Izuku, she sighed deeply. “I should have known. I step out for five minutes and you’re creating chaos. What’s happened this time? Have you managed to break even more of your bones?”

Izuku shook his head weakly. “Mina” He pointed to the gurney next to him. “She stopped breathing. Used Kaminari to shock her.”

Recovery Girl’s eyes went wide, and she moved over to Mina’s side. She quickly examined the girl, checking her heartbeat, breathing, and pupils. When she was done, Izuku had managed to shake off most of the lingering effects of the shock.

“I hate to say it, but I think in this situation, you made the right call.” Recovery girl said, settling into her chair. “It seems Young Ashido suffered a heart attack, likely due to severe stress. She seems to be suffering from malnutrition and dehydration as well.” She shook her head sadly.

She kicked them out immediately following her exam, pausing only to heal the damage Izuku and Kaminari had taken, telling them to go to class, and not to worry. Thanks to her healing, all Mina needed was a bit of rest before she felt a lot better.

Izuku couldn’t just go back, not when Mina was right there. If she needed him, he wanted to be there. He parked himself on a convenient bench across from the office, not responding to any of his friend’s questions or attempts to speak to him. He simply sat and stared at the door.

Izuku could afford to skip class, but the rest weren’t quite so lucky. They reluctantly left their friend sitting there, promising to return when class was done, and to let everyone know that he and Mina were ok. Izuku nodded slightly at that, which they took to be a good sign.

When Recovery Girl emerges from her office, she doesn’t look surprised at all to see him sitting there. She looks resigned instead.

“She’s waking up now. It will do her good to have a friendly face when she does.”

Izuku practically bolts out of his seat to enter. Mina is still lying on the cot where he placed her before, though Recovery Girl apparently took the time to cover her with a thin blanket.

He could see her eyelids fluttering as he stepped closer. He reached out and gently took her hand. A moment later, she squeezed it lightly.

“Izu?” Her voice was faint, and more than a little confused. “What happened?”

“We were working out, and you collapsed. I brought you to Recovery Girl. You…” He paused, not quite sure how to break it to her. “Mina you had a heart attack.”

She shocked Izuku by laughing weakly. “Guess I really screwed up, huh?”

“Quite” Recovery Girl said from her desk. The elderly hero was filling out paperwork, probably relating to Mina’s condition. “You’re not the first student to exhaust themself before exams, but yours is one of the more extreme cases. I’ve healed the damage from the attack, as well as your sweethearts impromptu treatment, but you still need rest. I can only heal the effects of illness, not the cause.”

She ripped the lower half of the paper shed been writing on off and handed it to Izuku, then faced Mina. “Three days of rest with NO TRAINING. Study if you must, but keep it to an absolute minimum. I’ll speak to Aizawa about getting you an exam extension. Keep in mind that this is a one time deal, and only because this is the first time I’ve seen you in my office all year, unlike someone I know.” She aimed a pointed glare at Izuku who even now was her most frequent visitor by a country mile.

A pager on her hip heroes loudly, and she snatched it up with a sigh. “And yet another poor soul needs healing. Please excuse me, but stay until you feel completely better. And remember, no training!” With that, she strode out of the door, which had been clumsily reattached, closing it behind her.

“Well, there goes my ‘least time in the nurse’s office’ record.” Mina said ruefully.

Izuku didn’t respond, and she turned her head to look at him. He still held tight to get hand, but there was a very distant look in his eyes.

“I’m kinda disappointed actually. I liked holding that over Kirishima’s head.”

Izuku nodded slightly at that, and Mina got the distinct impression that he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying.

“I guess now would be a bad time to tell you that I’m pregnant, huh?”

This time he didn’t even nod, just continued to stare into space. Mina rolled her eyes, and flicked her boyfriend in the forehead. It was unusual to see him spaced out without a stream of muttered observations streaming out of him.

“You know, it’s considered polite to listen when people are talking to you.” She teased. She was feeling stronger now, almost back to normal. Or at least as normal as she had felt in the last few weeks, which meant gritty, run down, and struggling to keep her eyes from folding closed.

He blinked, coming back to his body. He looked at her for a moment, and then his face crumpled. All of the emotions that he had been holding inside came flooding out, and his eyes overflowed with tears. It wasn’t the first time Mina had seen him cry, but the fat droplets surprised her every time.

“M-Mina I was…I was so worried!” He sobbed, planting his face into her shoulder.

She reached her arms around his shaking shoulders and pulled him close. She felt a prickle at the back of her own eyes. The collapse had been traumatizing for her as well, and when combined with all the stress she’d been under, it was a heavy burden to bear. She’d been unconsciously dealing with it in the same way she had been during the last week, pushing the feelings down and hiding under a layer of humor.

Now, given a chance to release, she cried too, tears coming close to matching Izuku’s. In short order, they each had a large wet patch on their shirts from the other’s tears. They didn’t speak, merely held each other close as they let all their feelings out in one long burst.

Eventually, they both ran short of tears. They pulled back slightly, but neither was willing to let go completely. They linked their arms, and leaned against each other, taking comfort from the other’s warmth.

“I’m sorry” Izuku said softly.

“Don’t be.” Mina replied. “It was….I needed a good cry. It helped.”

Izuku nodded, understanding exactly what she felt. He felt exhausted, but relieved, like a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying had finally been lifted.

“It was hard. Seeing you like that. I didn’t know what to do, or how to help you. I was scared.”

She squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture, but she could feel a smile tugging at her face. “I’m sorry? Mr. Self Sacrifice found it tough to see someone he cares about hurt? Welcome to my world.”

Izuku smiled as well. He knew he had been tough on Mina in the past, and given her more than one hospital scare.

“I know, now more than ever. I’ll try to be better in the future.”

“Only try?”

“I am what I am.” He said with a shrug.

Mina laughed at that, a full body stomach laugh this time. Izuku joined in a moment later. It was difficult having a reputation as class problem child, but Izuku had come to embrace the role.

“I love you Sparks” Mina said softly.

He pulled her close, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Love you too Frosting.” She flushed a little. A part of her always loved hearing her call her that. He said it in a way that made her feel like the most special person in the world.

As much as she wanted to stay like that forever, Mina knew they should get going. She may have a mandate to avoid studying, but Izuku doesn’t. She groaned as she stood, flexing her back to work out a few of the kinks that had developed while she slept. Izuku stood as well, watching her carefully for signs of relapsing.

“Let’s head back to the dorms.” Mina said. “Everyone’s in class right now, so we’ll have the dorms to ourselves for a while.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow at that. “There’s still Modern Heroics left today. I probably shouldn’t skip more class this close to exams.”

Mina let a mischievous grin cross her face. “You sure about that? You know how easily I get bored when I don’t have someone to talk to. I might even decide to do a bit of training to relieve my boredom…”

“Don’t you dare!” He said in mock outrage. He knew she was sensible enough not to try anything, but still felt it prudent to stop that line of joking right here and now.

“You’re gonna have to cuddle me if you want to be extra sure.”

He smiled a wide and honest smile that always lifted Mina’s heart when she saw it. It was bright, and good, and so very beautiful. And it looked perfect on her boyfriend’s face.

“Now that, I can definitely do.”

The couple walked arm in arm, ready to enjoy some much needed R&R, perfectly content to be in the arms of their lover once more.

[choiceslife]

When Worlds Collide: Part One (Limited Series)

Disclaimer: Based upon characters in Choices - Endless Summer, It Lives in the Woods, The Royal Romance, #LoveHacks, Home for the Holidays and ?? series. All characters presented are the property of Pixelberry Studios. I claim no ownership. This story is purely the work of the poster as fanfiction.

Overall Series Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Adult Language, Adult Content, Sexual Discussions. Future chapters may contain SMUT and Gratuitous Sexual Descriptions

Overall Series Summary: The sisters are together again and Ava Cunningham believes only they can help her.

Author’s Note: This Limited Series is a companion/sequel to Divided By Circumstance. I suggest you at least read that series in order to understand this one. As with most of my stories, this is a crossover and is part of my interconnected Chromatic AU. My MC’s are as follows: Carrissa Monroe (TRR), Abby Bennett (#LH), Scarlett Joy (HFTH), and Taylor Reed (ES). There will be an End Note following this chapter.

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @mysteli @cinnamonroll-duffy @darley1101 @debramcg1106 @katurrade @ladynonsense @luxurylives @regrettingnathan @akrenich @teamtomsato @riseandshinelittleblossom @kinkykingliam @jlouise88 @kenjikatsoros @eileendannie @marshmallow-ortega @littlecrookedheart @i-choose-liam @boneandfur @bobasheebaby @tmarie82 @walkerismychoice @europeanguy @pixieferry @sstee1 @3pawandme

This is very much sensitive content and NSFW. You have been warned.

***

Louisiana - Somewhere

Barely 8am and the rural Louisiana heat was quite high for this late in the fall. But Jake McKenzie didn’t mind. He preferred warm weather over anything remotely cold. There was just something about being able to go outside and let the sun’s rays soak into your skin that Jake enjoyed. Sure, he’d been to places with colder climates and had a good time, but he found the process of bundling up to be rather annoying.

Plus, he wouldn’t be able to go for his routine run outdoors if he lived some place with colder weather. He’d be trapped inside on a treadmill at one of those cookie cutter, corporate gyms that he despised. World Fitness. Jake tried it out once during a free trial weekend. It sucked. He much preferred the makeshift gym in his garage and the ability to jog without worrying about a time limit because the place was stuffed to the rafters with people. Too many people. This eventually led to several other patrons always waiting to use the machines.

But running outdoors on his own time, without anyone else around, was much more in his comfort zone. Just him and nature. And running outside meant that Jake didn’t need headphones to tune out unwanted distractions. He was able to run freely with his own thoughts and nothing else.

The repeated ‘thwap thwap’ sound of Jake’s worn sneakers ricocheting off the pavement always brought a soothing calm to his mind. He could usually tell from the repetitious noise just how close he was to meeting the Navy required time for a mile and a half run - 16 minutes 10 seconds - the new maximum time allowed. In his prime, Jake could easily best that time with a 6 minute mile pace, but nowadays he’d be lucky to run a mile in under ten minutes.

Gotta ease up on all the beers, Hotness Jake imagined Taylor saying to him playfully as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The sweat had matted his shaggy brown hair to his head and periodically a rogue drop would try to course its way towards Jake’s eye. Burning eyes while running wouldn’t feel good at all. The sweat running down his bare chest and what was left of his abs, however, felt great. Particularly because of the heat. Whenever a brief breeze did blow, his body would get a momentary reprieve from the humid feeling with a slight cooling effect.

As Jake crested a slight hill in the road, he noticed a car parked along the side of the pavement well off in the distance. It was a pretty unusual sight as his chosen running route was a very desolate, practically abandoned, stretch of highway. Jake couldn’t remember the last time he saw a vehicle that wasn’t his truck or Old Man Crabbypant’s rust-covered Cadillac.

___

“I think I see him. Shaggy brown hair. Average height. Crooked smile.”

“That’s him. That’s Jake McKenzie,” Ava said as she slammed the trunk of the car. “Quick, hide the binoculars and take off your shirt.”

“What? Why?”

“Dan Pierce!” Ava snapped. “Don’t question me! Just do it!”

“This is ridiculous,” Dan replied as he tossed the binoculars into the back seat of the rental car and slipped his tight blue t-shirt off. He kept muttering to himself as he moved to the front of the car and set the hood open to rest on the prop rod.

“He’s a lonely man, yet he ignored every person that approached him at the bar when I was observing last night. I just need something to entice him to stop and chat. Now stop complaining and work what your momma gave ya Dan. And pretend I’m not here.” Ava quickly made her way down the slight embankment off the side of the road and crouched down out of site.

“How do you know he’s lonely?”

“Hush. Pretend to be inspecting the engine. Pull out one of those hose thingys.”

“But...”

Ava shushed her friend again and flicked her hands in agitation towards the front of the car. A small trail of white smoke began to creep up from the engine bay startling Dan.

___

Jake slowed his pace as he approached the stopped car, taking in the beautifully sculpted masculine sight before him. The shirtless, mop topped brunette’s hands were firmly planted on the front of the car, supporting him as he peered over the engine. His well defined back muscles flexed slightly with each shifting movement as he inspected the disabled vehicle. Jake couldn’t help, but to admire the man’s broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist with lower back dimples. Taylor had those as well and Jake was such a sucker for a man with them. He continued to drink in the gorgeous backside before him. Tight dark blue jeans situated low on the hips accentuating a cute, bubbled behind elicited a mild gasp as Jake’s jog shifted to a walk. He’s still not Taylor. As he approached, Jake placed both hands onto his hips as he took deep gulps of air in an effort to regulate and normalize his breathing. “Everything okay?”

From the side of the road, Ava watched as Jake strolled his slim, taut frame beside Dan. Now she just needed her friend to lull the fit recluse into a friendly conversation so that he’d let his guard down and she could have a much needed chat with him. Ava had hoped to talk to Jake the night before, but he was clearly giving off a vibe that said ‘Fuck Off’ to everyone. So Ava decided to go with Plan B: Shirtless Dan Pierce beside a ‘broken down’ car. And it seemed to be working.

___

Although Dan had seen Jake through the binoculars earlier, he hadn’t expected him to be as attractive as he was up close and personal. Dan couldn’t help his eyes wandering all over the jogger’s body. From his tantalizing and inviting blue eyes to the way his lopsided grin showcased his kissable lips; Jake was more man than Dan expected. “Not sure. It started to smoke and then just quit.” Dan’s eyes continued to wander down Jake’s body following his white lie, admiring the way the sun glinted off of his sweat laced chest and how his matted blue shorts hugged high and tight to his muscular thighs leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” Dan stepped to the side allowing Jake to inspect the car’s motor to see what the problem might be. He glanced towards where Ava had been hiding, but she waved him off to pay attention to Jake. Dan returned his eyes to the man beside him, noticing the strength and definition in his body. “You’re hot,” he reflexively said; his eyes going wide the moment he realized that his comment was out loud and not in his head. “I mean, you look hot...like... hot like you need a drink. Do you want a water?”

Jake flashed a wry smile at the man’s moment of fluster. Still got it Jake. “Sure. A water would be nice.”

“K. I think we got some in the trunk.”

“We?”

Shit! Dan’s face immediately flushed with worry. He caught me. He knows. He fucking knows. “I. I’ve got some in the trunk. I have no idea why I said ‘we.’” Dan’s voice cracked as he nervously laughed. He made his way to the back of the car, hoping that Jake wouldn’t challenge his lie. Dan reached into the soft Coleman cooler and yanked a bottle of ice cold water from its depths. He closed the trunk and jumped back in surprise. The former pilot was standing near the driver’s side rear door with his arms folded across his chest. “Jesus Jake. You scared me. I didn’t hear you walk over.”

“How’d you know my name is Jake?”

___

Damn it Dan. Ava watched as her friend got flustered after Jake caught him in his faux pas. She couldn’t hide any longer. As much as Ava had hoped to get Jake to let his guard down before she broached the difficult subject of his lost love, she couldn’t let her friend Dan suffer Jake’s questioning on his own. “Wait Jake. I can explain everything,” Ava confessed as she made her way up the embankment towards the two shirtless gentlemen.

Jake took in the towering woman approaching him and the attractive stranger. She wore her hair in a beautifully braided style with several streaks of pink throughout. Her clothes looked like the latest in goth fashion from Hot Topic and no doubt many people lumped her into the goth chick category. But Jake knew better. He knew a witch when he saw one. “Who are you? Who is this guy? And what do you want?”

“My name is Ava Cunningham. That’s my friend Dan Pierce. And we both just want to help you, Jake.”

“You want to help me? You don’t even know me, Hermione. You think having some Handsome Guy chat me up means I’ll let you use your witchcraft to get into my head and poke around?” Jake saw the confusion on Ava’s face as she processed his words. “Yeah, I know you’re some kinda witch. Not the first one I’ve come upon in my life. You and Sexy Mop Top here can go back to Hogwarts and leave me alone.” Jake turned to leave the two young strangers, hoping he wouldn’t have to resort to other unpleasant means to get them to leave.

“How’d you know I was a witch?” Ava asked before Jake could even take two steps. She watched him pause in his tracks for a moment as if he was contemplating his thoughts.

Jake smiled to himself, his back facing Ava and Dan. So I was right. He loved when he read people correctly. Jake turned around, gesturing towards the front of the car as he did. “The engine. Nothing was loose or cracked. No obvious signs of damage, yet there was smoke coming from the bay. Growing up in Louisiana, you come to learn those parlor tricks. Also, there’s still a faint amount of smoke emanating from the palm of your right hand.” The instant Jake pointed out her tell, Ava looked down and clenched her fist extinguishing the last of the embers. “Next time Hermoine, just lead with the magic tricks. People love them.”

“But you’re not most people, Jake! I know what you’ve been through and...”

“You don’t know anything!” Jake whirled around to leave again; his face red with rage.

“Stuck in a time loop on a tropical island. Battling sea monsters and giant crabs. Fending off your old boss from Arachnid. But it wasn’t all bad. You helped protect a bunch of scared college kids. Reunited with your friend you thought was dead. Married the love of your life.” Ava watched Jake’s shoulders slowly rock up and down. She couldn’t tell if he was getting more agitated by her words or if she was getting through his gruff exterior and he was finally listening. “I know what Taylor means to you Jake. And I think I know a way to get him back.”

Jake took a few paces towards the front of the car. He dropped the prop rod and slammed the hood. “Screw the magic tricks. Next time lead with that.” Jake pointed to a smiling Ava and a confused Dan, “Get in the car. I’m driving.”

Rarely one to show genuine excitement, Ava giddily ran over to get into the front passenger seat beside Jake, while Dan remained glued in place behind the car. “So, can I put my shirt back on now?”

___

“So you’re telling me the Queen of Corona, some life-style blogger, and an editor are the most powerful witches in the world? And they don’t know it?” Jake plopped down onto the old couch in his living room, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair, before twisting open the water bottle Dan hand been intending to give him earlier. He gulped down about half of the refreshing liquid, letting out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction when he was done.

“Cordonia,” Ava corrected, leaning against the door jamb that separated the kitchen from the living room. “And I know it sounds ridiculous...”

“It sounded like a joke when she told me. Which is crazy cuz I believed her when she told me about our friends battling moss creatures during the Homecoming dance senior year,” Dan interrupted. He pulled up a seat on the overstuffed leather chair across from Jake. The chair had seen better days, but damn was it comfortable. “An editor, a blogger, and a queen walk into a bar...” Dan chuckled softly, quite pleased with his humorous quip.

Ava rolled her eyes at her friend. “Weren’t you wanting to put your shirt back on Dan? I’m sure it’s still in the car if you wanna go get it and I’ll speak with Jake.”

“I’m good. It’s hotter in his house than it is outside.”

Jake flashed his award winning grin - Pearl River High School’s Mr. Bayou three years in a row. He swept the swimsuit and athletic events each time he won. Jake didn’t mind if Dan remained shirtless. He could appreciate the man’s appeal, but Jake’s heart belonged to Taylor and he was intrigued to know how Ava intended to bring him back. “He’s fine Hermoine. And I don’t think it sounds ridiculous at all. The things I’ve experienced on La Huerta; whatever Sexy Mop Top was talking about... I believe you.”

“Thanks Jake.”

“Hell, you could tell me that vampires roam New York and a robot is dating President Thompson and I’d believe you.” Jake finished the rest of his water and got up from the couch. He looked back and forth between Ava and Dan. “What I don’t believe is how you’ll be able to convince those sisters of who they really are, let alone get close enough to them to even try.”

Ava just stood silent. She didn’t have an answer for him as to how they would accomplish that feat. A few of her friends were in New York with her girlfriend, Stacy, working on a plan, but she hadn’t received an update on their progress. Ava watched as Jake excused himself from the room to finally go wash off the grime from his run. “Have you heard from Stacy, Lucas, or Cade yet?” Dan shook his head, giving Ava a brief moment of stress before she collected herself again. “Guess we’ll have to go New York and figure it out together.”

___

From within a living room mirror, Donovan Bailey observed Ava take a seat across from Dan. “The sisters are in New York,” he said turning to his friend, Shreya.

“I’ll tell the others and see if they can get a lock on their location.” Shreya quickly vanished leaving Donovan alone to continue keeping an eye on Ava Cunningham. While she wasn’t naturally attuned like Donovan and his friends, the magic world had become aware of her developing powers. After all, it wasn’t every day that a mortal human learned to harness powerful magic on her own.

***

End Note: Donovan Bailey is the name of my MC in The Elementalists. In regards to Endless Summer, I went with the third ending so this story takes place roughly a year after MC disappeared to save the others and free them from La Huerta.

[chloes-yellow-cup]

Tattoos - A Fic Tease

Tattoos

A/N: I got some tattoos this week, inspired by ‘Nowish’. The symbols were picked out for the story by the wonderful always-saves-my-ass-when-I’m-stuck @tiny-maus-boots​ and we later hashed out that Aubrey would probably get the symbols for her girls as tattoos after they get home from the tour.

Since ‘Nowish’ became such a huge part of my life, and these girls wound their way into my heart, I wanted to make it permanently part of me for largely the same reasons.

So I wrote a couple of scenes from a future PP3 based story. It was intended to be short, but then Aubrey started talking and now we have a full chapter. Again, this is not the complete story and these scenes will likely go through some changes by the time I get around to actually writing it. 

Takes place after they get home from the USO tour, so after ‘Nowish’, which happened in July 2017.

A Shared Lifetime  - All my works in my alternate timeline so far, including my other fic teases.

Words: 12,000

Rating: Mature. It was going to be teen, but Beca and Aubrey had other ideas. As. Usual.

AO3

For mobile users, there is a ‘keep reading’ and I’m sorry if the app does that thing where it makes you scroll for a year.

~A~

Last week of March 2018

Aubrey gently shook Stacie awake, trying not to wake Beca and Chloe at the same time. When Stacie rolled to her back to face Aubrey behind her, Aubrey leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I can’t sleep. Shower with me?” She pulled back enough to read the worry starting to replace sleep in Stacie’s eyes and smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine. Just restless.” She looked over as Beca gave a particularly loud snore. Aubrey smiled affectionately. “And I don’t want to wake Sleeping Beauty.”

At Stacie’s snort and relieved nod, Aubrey slipped quietly from the bed, feeling her wife follow. Padding through the dark bedroom to the bathroom she waited until Stacie had shut the door before turning on the soft nightlight. She didn’t want or need the overhead lights tonight.

While she took care of that Stacie had stepped past her to start the shower. As it warmed, she turned around and pressed herself against Aubrey’s back as her arms slipped around Aubrey’s waist.

“You sure you’re ok?” Stacie’s voice was soft against her ear.

Stacie had always been quick to make sure there was nothing wrong, but after the whole USO debacle, she asked it a little more often. Aubrey knew she was partly to blame; she was still processing what had happened. It had made her quieter than normal the past few weeks and she knew the other three had picked up on it; just as she had picked up on their quiet moments. They all had some baggage left over since getting home, but they were together and that had made it easier.

“Yes, love.” Aubrey leaned back, never tired of the feel of Stacie’s skin sliding against her own. She felt Stacie kiss the side of her head and she hummed in contentment as she turned in the circle of Stacie’s arms, Stacie’s lips already seeking hers.

They traded lazy kisses until the room grew warm and steamy. Aubrey stepped under the spray where Stacie resumed her place against Aubrey’s back. Her lips moved over Aubrey’s shoulders before lifting her hands to knead them and Aubrey groaned in bliss.

“I’ll give you forever to stop doing that.” Aubrey bent her head and let the water pour over the back of it.

“Then forever it’ll be.” Stacie said, humor lacing her tone.

Aubrey relaxed into the light massage, feeling her body respond as it always did to Stacie’s touch. The last few weeks had been difficult, in a way. After a single week back at work, they both took a leave of absence. Aubrey because she wasn’t quite ready to dive into the world of contracts, though she did continue to look over everything for Beca as the one ‘client’ she kept; the changes to the contracts sent by Khaled were small but she wanted to make sure she stayed on top of them.  Stacie wanted the time off because she wanted to be close to Aubrey, though not in a way that ever felt clingy or oppressive. She didn’t have to be in the room with Aubrey, but she was never far away; a byproduct of being miles apart when disaster struck.

Aubrey didn’t think she herself was really suffering PTSD, not the way her father had ever talked about. But whenever she had a strong memory of what it was like in the van, when they realized what was happening even if not why, she found that she had to swallow to keep back a faint wash of bile. Intense moments at work had made it even stronger and prompted her desire for time off. It was an involuntarily stress response that hadn’t happened in a long time – not since she and Stacie had moved in together, actually. It bothered her a lot that it was back and she was determined to get past it, not just for her sake, but for Stacie, Chloe and Beca. She knew they worried about her, that the gag reflex was a bad sign. But they never gave her the pity eyes she expected when it happened. They simply waited until it passed and offered her a glass of water. In the past she might have felt like they were hovering and gotten angry – but now she only felt loved and cared for.

It had also made her a touch more serious, a bit slower to laugh than the rest of them. Sometimes, when a dream woke her up and she was in the middle of their warm cocoon, she’d simply lay there with her eyes closed and listen to the soft breathing around her. Feel the steady rise and fall of whoever was spooned against her back. Eventually her racing heart would calm and her own breathing would slow to match until she slipped under once more.  

Other nights, such as now when she was one of the bookends, she’d slip out of bed and go downstairs to where Chloe had set up an elliptical and treadmill. Aubrey would use one or the other – or both, on particularly bad nights – until she was exhausted. She would go back upstairs and take a quick shower before slipping back into bed. More often than not, whoever she had been resting against was waiting for her and simply opened their arms to pull her in. None of them pushed, they knew she was working through it on her own and she loved them all so much for it.

But mostly, no matter what activity she was doing in the middle of the night, Aubrey thought a lot about what she almost lost. What she put Stacie through, no matter how unintentionally or unpredictable it had been. She couldn’t help but picture Stacie walking around their house after Beca had called, wondering if Aubrey was hurt, or worse. She could still hear the devastated yet hopeful tone in Stacie’s voice when Aubrey had called her once they were safe. Still feel how tightly Stacie had gripped her when they were finally face to face again.

Rationally Aubrey knew she wasn’t to blame and Stacie reassured her as often as she could in a million ways.

But her irrational side blamed herself. That she should have known better. That she should have realized what was going on. That she had put Stacie through absolute hell.

That she should never have had the idea to go on the tour. But then her rational side - helped by Chloe’s oft repeated ‘There’s a silver lining anywhere if you just look hard enough, Bree.’ - would remind her that without the tour, Beca might not have been given the opportunity to go on the amazing journey she was now on.

While she’d been lost in her thoughts, Stacie had begun to gently soap Aubrey’s body. Currently her hands were sliding up Aubrey’s stomach and over her breasts, pulling her back to the here and now. Aubrey pushed herself into the touch, craving it. “I was wrong – you have forever to stop doing that.”

Stacie chuckled and Aubrey felt it more than heard it. “So this is why you lured me into the shower? To have your way with me?”

Aubrey took a deep breath. “That, and…” She trailed off again. “I wanted to tell you something. Or, ask you something, is probably more accurate.” She said the last quickly, feeling Stacie begin to tense around her.

“Alright.” Stacie said evenly but Aubrey could hear the caution under it.

It was Aubrey’s turn to laugh. “Except I can’t concentrate when you’re doing that to my nipples.” Stacie’s fingers had begun to slowly trace around them, then over, her fingers feeling wonderfully warm and slick.

“Do you want me to stop?” Stacie leaned down and pulled Aubrey’s earlobe into her mouth.

Desire shot through Aubrey as she groaned quietly. “Never.” Her body began to move against Stacie. “But… I’ve been thinking about this for a while…” She gasped as Stacie pulled gently. “Except now I’ve forgotten everything.”

“Nah, you never forget anything important.” Stacie slid her hands back down to Aubrey’s stomach, who whimpered softly at the loss. “This was important enough for you to wake me up for this time, so it’s important to me.” She turned Aubrey around. “Usually your midnight wanderings have been solo.” There was no judgement there – there never was.

“You’ve joined me on the treadmill a few times.” Aubrey wound her arms around Stacie’s waist. “But…” She took a deep breath. “I was thinking of getting a tattoo.” She watched Stacie carefully, saw her eyes widen. She knew she’d surprised Stacie by even entertaining the idea, much less felt it was important enough to address in the middle of the night.

“A tattoo.” Stacie repeated it slowly. “What brought this on?”

“The tour.” Aubrey said. That’s what they called it, just ‘the tour.’ It was rarely ‘the kidnapping’ or ‘the hostage crisis’ anymore as they were all still a little touchy. “I just…” She tilted her head and looked into Stacie’s eyes, loving how patiently she was waiting for Aubrey to get out her thoughts. “I know I’ve been… quiet.” Stacie reflexively pulled her closer and Aubrey smiled. “And you’ve been amazing in the way you’ve given me space to… work it through.”

“I told you I’d wait until you were ready.” Stacie kissed her brow. “As long as you weren’t pulling away from me or doing something crazy like not eating, I’d let you work this at your own pace.” She traced Aubrey’s jaw with one fingertip. “You’ve been amazing through this, Bree.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I think I’m getting there.” Aubrey smiled. “We’re all getting there. But I kind of want to… Oh I don’t know. Not mark the tour, or the occasion, because honestly that whole thing sucked.” She grinned at Stacie’s bark of laughter. “Well, part of it. The last bit ended up being pretty awesome, considering.” She squeezed Stacie’s sides. “But I was thinking I wanted something permanent. Something that’s… all of you.”

“Oh?” Stacie’s hands began to stroke Aubrey’s back. “I’d say our marriage is pretty permanent.” She grinned. “At least to me.” Aubrey thumped her lightly in the side. “Hey! No violence in the shower, we could slip and fall.”

Aubrey ignored her. “You do know what I mean, though?”

Stacie grew serious again. “Yeah, yeah I do. Not a reminder, exactly, but kind of… so we’re with you even when we’re not with you?” Aubrey nodded, thinking she should stop being surprised that Stacie always knew what she was trying to say even when Aubrey didn’t quite have the words. “What are you thinking, babe?”

“Three designs, just in black. Down my right side.” Aubrey said, picturing it again.

“Of what?” Stacie prompted gently.

“A tribal sun.” Stacie’s smile was immediate. “Yes, that’s you.” Aubrey accepted the kiss she was given. “Then a crescent moon.”

“Beca.” Stacie said, obviously remembering the conversation that took place before they had all climbed in bed together, not realizing it would change their lives.

Aubrey nodded. “And then I found a star with a treble clef in it. If that didn’t scream ‘Chloe’, nothing ever would.”

Stacie waited a heartbeat. “And why here?” She ran her hand down Aubrey’s side.

Aubrey felt her face flush as a wry smile twisted her lips. “That’s where you three marked me for the first time?” Stacie was silent long enough that Aubrey began to worry. “But if you…” She fell silent when Stacie shook her head.

She slowly knelt to place three kisses down Aubrey’s side, almost exactly where those first love bites had been left. She looked up at Aubrey who moved to block the water from the shower. “I think it sounds perfect.”

“You do?” Aubrey asked; she felt strangely shy as she brushed wet strands of hair out of Stacie’s face.

“I do. In fact…” She stood up and kissed Aubrey softly. “So much so that I kind of want to get them myself, but on my left side.” She paused. “Except the sun – that’s… I’d get something else to symbolize you.”

“A ball and chain?” Aubrey yelped when Stacie pinched her butt.

“No, though now that you’ve given me the idea…” Stacie trailed off, searching Aubrey’s eyes. “No. For you it would be an outline of the Earth. Because you’re my whole world.”

Aubrey felt unexpected tears reach her eyes. “Stacie…” She stopped, all the words jumbling up in her chest. So she said the only thing that had ever really mattered between them. “I love you.” But it meant everything. She pulled Stacie into a kiss, soft and gentle, full of the promise of forever.

“Then it’s ok?” Stacie asked once they parted again. “You wouldn’t feel like I’m jumping on your bandwagon?”

“Not at all.” Aubrey felt her desire stretching upward again, needing to express how much it meant to her that not only did Stacie understand, but she got it in a way that she wanted to share in such a permanent declaration.

“I’ll call in the morning and see when we can get appointments.” Stacie said. “I still have the number of the guy Beca went to when we got her birthday tattoo.” She let Aubrey pull her down into another kiss. “I’m going to assume you want them as soon as possible?”

“Oh yeah.” Aubrey slid her hand down Stacie’s stomach and between her legs. “But right now, I need something else on my body.” She moaned softly at the warm and slick skin that met her fingers.

“What’s that?” Stacie asked, her own hands reaching down to grip Aubrey’s ass and squeeze gently.

“You.” Aubrey whispered against her lips. “Always you, my love.”

“Sounds-“ Whatever else Stacie was going to say was lost when Aubrey claimed her mouth again.

Later, as they crawled into bed happy, satiated and exhausted, Aubrey felt another piece of herself slip back into place. She didn’t know how many more were still out of alignment but tonight, finally, she had the feeling it wasn’t as many as she feared.

 ~C~

Two weeks later

“You guys got tattoos.” Beca said flatly.

“Yup.” Stacie replied, amused. It was the third time Beca had said it.

“For Bree’s birthday.” It was like she expected the answers to change. Chloe thought it was adorable.

“Yes.” Aubrey said, with a fond eye roll. “We got matching tattoos – sort of – for my birthday.”

“Sneaks.” Chloe said with a grin.

Stacie and Aubrey had said they had a few errands to run and had left earlier that morning. They promised to be home by late afternoon, but to not wait for them for lunch. None of them were really back at their jobs yet; Aubrey and Stacie had extended their leave of absence and Beca was still in the flux period of signing with DJ Khaled. Chloe occasionally went into the dance studio, but was also in a bit of limbo as her boss prepared to pass the reins. She knew she would have really to go back in soon. But not yet.

When the other two had finally gotten home, they looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary and led Beca and Chloe upstairs.

/

Beca smiled. “You guys miss us that much that you’re going to jump us the second you get home?”

“Like you wouldn’t be up for that,” Stacie replied.

“But that’s not why we brought you up here.” Aubrey said before Beca could make a snarky and probably dirty reply.

“What?” Beca sounded so disappointed in that instant that Chloe had to stifle a laugh. “I mean… Oh?”

“Nope. But we are going to take off our shirts.” Stacie said even as she and Aubrey reached for the hems of their shirts. “Because we have a surprise for you.”

Chloe frowned, not sure where this was going and then gasped when the bandages on their sides came into view; Aubrey’s on the right, Stacie’s on the left. “Oh my god. Are you guys okay? Were you in an accident?”

But Beca had stepped forward. “You didn’t.” She touched beside the bandage on Stacie’s side and Chloe understood. She’d seen bandages like this last year for Beca’s birthday.

“Oh yeah.” Stacie laughed.

“Will you take them off for us?” Aubrey asked.

Beca met her eyes, startled. “Me?”

“Who else is the expert?” Aubrey said with a smile.

Beca took a breath. “Chlo, can you go get a fresh roll of paper towels?” Beca looked over her shoulder.

“Of course, babe.” Chloe ran downstairs and grabbed their spare roll from the pantry. Opening it, she threw away the plastic and headed back where she found the three of them in the bathroom. Stacie and Aubrey were sitting side by side on the counter and Beca was washing her hands carefully with hot water. Beca had already gotten out her favorite tattoo wash and salve and had them sitting on the counter, ready to go.

“Towels.” Chloe said, tearing off a few and handing them over with a smile.

“Thanks.” Beca smiled at her and dried her hands before turning to the others. “You guys ready?”

Chloe watched as Beca carefully pulled the tape and bandage from Aubrey’s side, revealing bold, crisp black lines in the symbols down her side. Saw Beca’s hands still as she took them in and realized what they were – what they meant – before she turned and did the same for Stacie’s bandage.

Aubrey had explained their meaning once when she’d given gifts representing them a few months ago.

A sun for Stacie, the center of her universe.

A crescent moon to represent the phases of the moon, because Beca showed her that you could change without losing who you are.

And a star for Chloe, because Chloe had always been there for her. The treble clef inside it – for the music that had brought them together and remained a constant backdrop in their lives – melted Chloe’s heart.

She didn’t even have to ask Stacie about the Earth, she knew it was because Aubrey was her world.

Beca didn’t say anything, her face serious as she set about washing their tattoos, Chloe holding a towel to catch the water as Beca poured it over them to let it rinse clean. She then carefully patted them dry with the paper towels and began to dab salve onto each symbol, making sure they were covered adequately.

Chloe took the wet towel to the hamper and felt her breath catch when she came back in. Stacie was watching as Beca took care of Aubrey and the expression on her face, so lost in love, Chloe had only ever seen when she was looking at Aubrey.

Chloe swallowed to try and stem her rising emotions. Aubrey was simply watching Beca’s face, so focused and efficient in her movements and care, and Aubrey’s own held a tenderness that Chloe could feel down to her toes.

/

The four of them had sprawled on The Expanse once Beca announced them done and told them they’d have to apply the salve again in a few hours. That was the last full sentence before she’d gotten stuck repeating ‘You guys got tattoos.’

Chloe ran her finger beside the designs on Aubrey’s ribs.

“Without me.” Beca finally said something different and Chloe snorted. “You guys got tattoos. Without me?”

Aubrey bit her lip. “Are you mad?”

Beca shook her head rapidly. “No! No, not at all. But…” She trailed off, her hand going to Stacie’s side where she cupped Stacie’s ribs under the Earth design.

“But you’d have loved to have been there for us.” Stacie said and Beca nodded. “To be fair, we thought about telling you, but decided we wanted to surprise you instead.”

“Is that ok?” Aubrey actually looked worried and Chloe hoped Beca noticed.

“Of course that’s ok.” Beca said absently then looked up at Aubrey. Her expression changed immediately and she reached over Stacie to take Aubrey’s hand. “No, Bree … That’s… I’m sorry. They’re gorgeous. I just never thought you would… I would have…” She trailed off then repeated, softer, “They’re gorgeous.”

Aubrey’s worried expression turned shy and it almost made Chloe’s heart ache with the love she felt at that moment. “Beca’s right, they’re beautiful.” She touched the star necklace she never took off except to shower. Aubrey noticed the movement and nodded, smiling as she realized Chloe knew what the meanings behind her choices were.

“Did you guys just gay marry us?” Beca blurted suddenly, her head tilted as she looked between Stacie and Aubrey, twisting the thumb ring Aubrey had given her the same day as Chloe’s necklace. It was delicately etched with the stages of the moon. Stacie had gotten a bracelet with a sun charm and all, including Chloe’s necklace, were simple platinum designs. But so elegant and full of meaning. Like their tattoos. Like Aubrey.

Both of them laughed but Aubrey managed to get out, “What?”

“Because this here,” Beca touched both their sides, stretching to reach Aubrey’s right side. “This is all of us. And it’s permanent.” She sat back on her heels again, her hands folded in her lap. “Like you want to keep us.” It was said softly, but Chloe heard a mix of hope and wariness under it.

Chloe looked at Beca and saw her heart in her eyes, as vulnerable and exposed as Chloe had ever seen her. It showed her how much Beca had grown and she felt her heart actually ache with how happy it made her. Because in the past Beca would never have asked it in this way. She’d have made it into a joke while desperately hoping it was anything but. But Chloe had spent years patiently showing Beca that it’s ok to be vulnerable. To let her heart show – to take the leap and trust that Chloe would be there to catch her.

The question hung between them and Chloe knew all the layers Beca protected herself with were stripped away with it; knew what this meant to Beca, who always had some small part of her, still wounded and always waiting to be left behind. And Staubrey, these two wonderful women who they were so lucky to have in their lives, had just given their hearts in a way that Beca at even her lowest could never deny. A way she understood intrinsically, having her marked her own truths on her skin over the years.

Stacie’s laughter faded first as what Beca was saying sank in. “Of course we want to keep you. Please don’t tell me you’re worried about that? Or having second tho-” She placed her hand over Beca’s on her side. “Beca…” Her voice was soft. “You’re always going to be ours.”

In so many ways, they showed Beca they would now catch her too.

“No, no I’m not.” Beca shook her head quickly. “You know we feel the same way. We love you.” Beca fell silent for a moment. “I love you. After everything, it’s only grown stronger. And this… this feels like a commitment to that. To us.” She waved her hand to encompass them all this time.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Aubrey looked over at Stacie who nodded, a happy smile beginning to form. “I guess it kind of was.”

Chloe ran her hand along Aubrey’s ribs again, feeling her shiver. She hadn’t realized she was going to speak, hadn’t realized her mind had been busily working in the background, until she heard herself say, softly, “I do.” She looked up when she felt the room had gone still around her. All three of them were watching her with affection. “Oh, that… I didn’t know I was going to say that.”

Beca took her hand. “It’s ok, it’s kind of perfect.”

Stacie cleared her throat and said, “Say it again?” Her eyes held a faint sheen and Chloe felt herself fall a little more.

Chloe met her eyes and said it louder. “I do.” She looked down as Aubrey took her hand then back up to Beca, one brow quirking.

“Oh hell yeah.” Beca sniffled. “We totally fucking do.”

“Then get over here and kiss the brides?” Aubrey teased as she eased over to make room between herself and Stacie. Chloe and Beca knelt between them, kissing one then trading places to kiss both equally and thoroughly before stretching out and snuggling their non-tender sides.

“You guys are just going to stay here and let me take care of these every day.” Beca said as she curled her arm carefully over Aubrey’s stomach. “Don’t even think about arguing with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Stacie said, pulling Chloe closer. “You’re the expert, after all.”

In truth, they’d spent most of their nights together for the past six weeks or so and Chloe knew it was only going to make it harder when they finally had to settle back into their work routine. But she would deal with that bridge when they came to it. Until then she was just going to enjoy every second they spent together - like the fact that she kind of loved that Aubrey was letting Beca take care of her without a fight. Aubrey was normally the one who took care of them, up to and including coming home on lunch if someone was sick to make sure they were okay and didn’t need anything.

One such occasion had resulted in a new photo for Beca’s contact in her phone.

/

This past January, Chloe was watching Lilo & Stitch while Beca worked on her mixes. Aubrey was lying with her head in Chloe’s lap and was reading over some new contracts for the label.

Stacie had walked in, taken one look at the screen and said “I always thought Beca was a lot like Stitch.”

“What?!” Beca looked up. “I am not,” she said, indignant.

“You mean to tell me you don’t stop being ornery and begin to purr when you get lei’d?” Stacie asked pointedly.

Beca pointed a finger at her, mouth open, then let her hand drop. “Damnit.”

That weekend Stacie had gotten her a Stitch onesie. While Aubrey and Chloe had leaned on each other, laughing, Beca had held it up. “I will get you for this, Bucky.”

“Promises, promises, 8 Seconds.” Stacie blew her a kiss.

A few weeks later Beca had picked up a wicked cold from someone at the studio and it put her in bed over the weekend. It was a bad enough cold that Aubrey had ordered her to stay home for an entire week until she’d beaten it. They’d all taken turns taking care of her in the mornings and evenings, but Aubrey had taken over lunch duty because Chloe had back to back classes and couldn’t get away. So Aubrey had come home every day to check on her, taking an extended lunch so she didn’t have to basically just run in and out.

On Wednesday she’d quietly made her upstairs and found Beca passed out in a pile of blankets, her body in one of those awkward contortions that only the truly unconscious can manage. Wearing the Stitch onesie and snoring open mouthed because she still couldn’t breathe through her nose.

Aubrey said she had immediately and without any hesitation whatsoever, taken a short video of how loud she was snoring, because Beca would deny it until she died. Then she took several of the most adorable pictures Chloe had ever seen before gently waking Beca up to make her some soup. Once Beca had eaten enough, Aubrey had tucked her back into bed, still in her Stitch pj’s.

And immediately sent the video and pictures to Stacie and Chloe.

When she showed Beca the new picture that would come up when she called, Beca had replied “Well, at least it’s not my ass anymore.”

“I thought you said you’d never wear them?” Stacie said, bumping Beca’s shoulder with her own.

“It was the warmest thing I could find.” Beca shrugged. “I was freezing.”

“Uh huh.” Chloe said. “And…” She could see there was more Beca wasn’t saying.

“And nothing.” Beca said, not looking at them.

“Beca.” Aubrey chided. “You know we can tell when you’re lying.”

Beca sighed deeply. “I felt better when I put it on. I felt like complete crap all week and needed… It was like…” She visibly forced herself to finish. “Like you were hugging me.”

“Holy shit, B.” Stacie sat back, her face soft. “That may be the most –”

“Don’t –” Beca put her hand out to stop her.

“Fucking adorable thing I have ever heard.” Stacie pulled Beca into her lap and hugged her gently. “I’m glad it made you feel better.”

Beca sighed and burrowed in. “Me too.” She looked up as Aubrey and Chloe piled onto the couch with them. “Even if some monster took video of me in my vulnerable state.”

“At least I didn’t take one of you rubbing your eyes with the hood over your head while you were at the table. I thought I was going to die from how cute you were, all groggy and spooning up your soup.” Aubrey shrugged. “Think of it as payback for that time you got them to film me sleep groping you.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said there needed to be pictures or it didn’t happen.” Beca protested.

“She’s got you there, Bree.” Chloe said as they all wiggled into a more comfortable dog pile.

Aubrey looked down where Beca’s hand had casually landed on her breast. “Apparently in more ways than one,” she said wryly.

“Like she said.” Stacie said with a laugh. “She’s a boob man.”

/

Chloe let the memory slip away when Beca finished explaining how she planned to handle their aftercare. She tucked herself closer to Stacie’s back, propping her chin on her shoulder and looked at Aubrey. “Would you guys mind if-”

“-we got them too?” Beca finished with her and Chloe smiled, never tired of the way their thoughts ran parallel. She knew she should probably have waited until they could talk, but it felt right. And with Beca’s instant agreement, she figured she only beat her at saying it by mere seconds.

“You’d do that?” Aubrey asked shyly and with a kind of wonder. Chloe saw Stacie’s eyes focus on Aubrey before looking back to Chloe with a familiar wry expression that she returned with a smile. One of the many things they had bonded over was their wives’ lingering fear that something was going to break. Because even without seeing her, Chloe could tell Aubrey was pleased at the idea that they’d want to get them even as she shared Beca’s slight hesitation in believing. Chloe knew it would never have occurred to her to ask them, but how could they not do this after everything they had been through and all that they meant to each other.

Chloe half shrugged. “Can’t have our wedding vows be incomplete, can we?”

“Yeah. The Earth is great for us too, because you keep us grounded, Bree.” Beca offered.

“Always have.” Chloe nodded. “So it’s perfect.”

“Well great, now I’m crying.” Aubrey said with a choked laugh.

Chloe wiped away the tear that had slipped down Stacie’s cheek as her eyes closed briefly. It matched the one rolling down her own. “It’s ok to cry at weddings.” That broke the tension that had been building and they laughed through their tears. Several long minutes were spent in comforting kisses and small touches of reassurance as they settled back into a quiet contentment.

“Where would you get it?” Stacie asked once they had recovered enough to talk without trembling voices, though she still had to clear her throat before she could speak. Like Beca, Stacie kept her real emotions hidden but in situations like this, even she couldn’t hide them completely. Chloe could almost feel the adoring smile Aubrey had to be directing at them because Stacie’s cheeks took on a faint blush.

“I was thinking of between my shoulders or…my spine, actually.” Chloe said. “Down the center.”

“That’s hot.” Beca said immediately. “Like, super hot.”

“Seconded,” Aubrey said right behind her.

“Thirded.” Stacie paused. “That’s totally not a word but I’m going with it. DJ?” Chloe rolled to her back and propped herself on her elbows to look at Beca.

“I’m not sure, actually.” Beca paused for a moment and Chloe could almost hear her thinking. “My hips, maybe.”

“Hips?” Aubrey asked, confused. “Both?”

“Yeah. Chloe’s star on my left, the sun and earth on my right.” Beca said, her voice firming.

Aubrey stifled a laugh. “I feel like there’s a statement here about your junk being the center of the universe. All kinds of puns intended including ones I know all your dirty bird minds just thought of.” Beca’s face had immediately taken on smirk that was both smug and lustful at the same time. Chloe turned her head enough to look at Stacie and found a matching expression as she looked Beca over carefully, from head to toe. Chloe could relate to them both and let out a deep yet happy sigh as various images of the four of them in bed over the past nine months. Aubrey looked over at the three of them and rolled her eyes.  “Seriously you guys?” But her face took on a faint flush and Chloe knew she was thinking her own parade of indecent thoughts.

Stacie shrugged. “Some people keep their love close to their hearts; Becs keeps them close to her parts.” She looked over as Beca rolled over and flipped her off. “I mean that as a compliment, B. You know how fond I am of your junk.”

Chloe and Aubrey exchanged a look that clearly said ‘Well, she’s not wrong.’

Beca put her head back on Aubrey’s shoulder. “We’ll call the guy in a bit.”

“Not now?” Chloe asked, curiously.

“Nope. I’m going to enjoy getting engaged for the second time for just a little bit longer.” She ran her hand down across Aubrey’s stomach to grip her hip.

“Beca Mitchell.” Aubrey said slyly. “Are you getting sentimental in your old age?”

“Can’t be helped when I have people worth being sentimental over.” Beca said.

Chloe snuggled back down into Stacie who pulled her close. “Told you, Bree. She’s a keeper.”

“It may take a while, but eventually I can admit when I’m wrong.” Aubrey said.

“Hey, no one badmouths my fiancé, not even my fiancé – or her wife, who is my other fiancé – or my wife, who is their other fiancé.” Beca said indignantly.

Chloe laughed. “Say that three times fast.”

“Becs.” Stacie chided and lifted her head to look over Chloe’s. “I don’t think any of us has ever done anything bad with our mouths.”

Beca began to laugh. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“It’s why we love you, B.” Stacie trailed her fingers down Chloe’s arm and until she could tangle their fingers together. “One of many reasons we love you both.”

Chloe smiled into Stacie’s shoulder. Beca was right, they could call later.

What they needed now was to be together.

She ghosted their joined hands down Stacie’s side again. “We totes do.”

 ~B~

Beca rubbed her thumb against the skin of Aubrey’s stomach just above her jeans, occasionally dipping below just because. She squirmed closer as she felt Aubrey’s lips press to her forehead, bending her head until she could feel as well as hear the strong beats of Aubrey’s heart. Beca felt the brief sting of tears again when she thought of the symbols Aubrey had chosen, what it meant that she would make them part of her, a declaration of love emblazoned on her skin for anyone to see.

It wouldn’t have surprised Beca to learn that Aubrey had been born as a full grown proper lady, so she was almost literally the last person Beca would have expected to get a tattoo. And Stacie, who had never wanted anything permanent with anyone before Aubrey, getting something that declared she belonged to Aubrey – and including Beca and Chloe in that?

It was so much deeper than just the tattoos. It was the women wearing them and what they truly meant by getting them.

She knew Chloe had seen to the heart of her earlier thoughts, what it meant to Beca to have that kind of commitment and promise made to her. While that younger, fearful version of herself was quieter now, tucked safely into the circle of Chloe’s arms, sometimes she woke up in unexpected moments. This time, however, it wasn’t fear that had made her surface, but the pure wonder Beca had felt when she realized how deeply Aubrey and Stacie felt about them. About her. Something that shouldn’t have surprised her at all, considering how she felt about them. She guessed that was another thing she and Aubrey had in common – that instinctual reaction that they would be left behind. But now there would be a reminder, for all of them, that they would always be part of each other.

She pushed up on her right elbow, adjusting her body until she could look down into Aubrey’s face. Beca traced Aubrey’s fine features first with her eyes, then with the lightest touch of her left hand. Across one brow, down her cheek, along her chin until Beca brushed her thumb across Aubrey’s lips. Aubrey only watched her, her expressive green eyes never leaving Beca’s face as she leaned down and kissed her gently, merely the lightest touch of her lips before pulling back and studying her once more.

There was no trace of the disdainful woman Beca had first met all those years ago. The one who declared Beca ‘alternative’ and tried to ward Chloe off before plastering on a fake smile when Chloe ignored her. The smiles now were the furthest from fake and Beca cherished every one of them, like the one slowly unfolding below her. Beca felt the light brush of breath against her face as Aubrey lifted her head just enough to close the distance between them again. Beca let herself sink into the kiss as her tongue slipped easily into Aubrey’s mouth, feeling so connected to her she wasn’t sure which of them sighed in contentment first.

As they lazily traded kisses, Beca angled more of her body to rest on Aubrey’s left side, always mindful of her right. Aubrey’s left arm had curled behind them and her hand dipped under Beca’s shirt to rest against her back, pulling her always closer. Beca wasn’t sure when it happened, but her left hand was resting over Aubrey’s heart, feeling it speed up the longer they kissed. It pulled at her, making the muscles in her stomach tighten as desire rose, slow and languid.

It was only natural for her hand to slip the few inches necessary to cover Aubrey’s bra clad breast and massage gently, feeling Aubrey’s back arch just a little. Her fingers traced over the hardening nipple as she kissed her way down Aubrey’s jaw. Beca paused for a moment over her pulse, her tongue pressed flat to feel how it jumped under touch, before continuing to press open mouthed kisses down to her collarbone.

Beca’s fingers slid upward to tug gently, pulling down the cup of Aubrey’s bra as her head dipped to pull the nipple into her mouth. Immediately Aubrey’s left hand was in her hair, holding her close, while Beca’s hand moved to the other breast, squeezing gently. Until Aubrey’s right hand covered it and urged her be firmer. When Beca complied, nipping with her teeth at the same time, Aubrey’s back arched again, lifting them off the bed as she cried out.

Beca slid her body over until she was straddling Aubrey’s legs. “Off.” She tugged at the front of Aubrey’s bra. “Can you…” But Aubrey was already lifting herself up and Beca slid her hand around her back to undo her bra, pulling it free and tossing it behind her. Beca lowered herself again, left hand firmly planted to keep herself off Aubrey’s side, as she pulled Aubrey’s right nipple into her mouth. Almost immediately she felt movement against her shoulder and pulled back to see Chloe had rolled onto her side and was nuzzling Aubrey’s other breast. Stacie was taking advantage of her height and was pushed up higher on the bed and half leaning over Chloe to kiss Aubrey.

Feeling her own desire rise higher Beca couldn’t stop her hips from grinding down against Aubrey’s as she leaned back down. She knew the way Chloe’s mouth worked as well as her own and tried to match it from memory; half hoping they would end up in sync. They must have succeeded as Aubrey pulled back from Stacie long enough to gasp, “How the fuck – nevermind. Don’t stop.” Beca grinned to herself. Having Aubrey use that tone, hearing it go breathy – that was never going to get old. Any time she was able to get Aubrey or Chloe to actually use ‘fuck’ because of something she was doing to them, well that was always a sexy bonus.

A sudden pressure between her legs caused her to pull back and look down as Aubrey’s whine of protest turned into a high moan. Stacie had stretched out her long arm over Chloe’s back and had cupped between Aubrey’s legs. Beca saw her forearm flex, pressing into Aubrey’s center and Beca felt the last tethers of her control fraying. She ground herself down into the back of Stacie’s hand, pushing her harder against Aubrey, her eyes closing as her body sought release in the friction between them.

Then she felt Stacie’s hand moving and lifted up, thinking she was moving to get more comfortable, but instead Beca heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. Another movement, this one unmistakably downward and Beca looked up in time to see Aubrey’s eyes close as her body arched again, mouth open in a soundless cry. Stacie was watching Beca with a hooded gaze filled with promise. Beca suddenly felt her clothes were too stifling, too constricting, and she needed them gone.

She pushed backward until she was off the bed, stripping almost as quickly as Stacie these days. She crawled back on the bed until she could reach up and hook her fingers into the top of Aubrey’s jeans. She pulled them down, along with her underwear, and dropped them to the floor behind her. Aubrey’s legs were already parted, Stacie’s hand never stopping. Chloe continued to nuzzle Aubrey’s breast, but her eyes were open and watching to see what Beca would do next.

Beca moved between Aubrey’s legs, watching as Stacie’s long middle finger stroked up and down, pulling quiet gasps from Aubrey. Even as she got closer, Beca saw it dip further down and slide inside briefly, but the angle was wrong for anything more. Stacie slid down the bed, spooning Chloe and pushing her tight against Aubrey’s side. Beca watched, breathless, as the angle allowed Stacie to thrust inside fully, each push of her hand matched by a roll against Chloe’s ass.

After a moment Beca moved her left hand up, already forming a cup and eased it under Stacie’s as she withdrew. At Stacie’s short gasp of approval, Beca fit their hands together and pushed them forward. Aubrey’s slick heat enveloped their middle fingers as she moaned, pushing back against them. Chloe had her head on Aubrey’s shoulder, her hand roaming over Aubrey’s stomach and chest, stroking here and pulling there, as she watched.

“You’re so beautiful, Aubrey.” Beca said, meeting green eyes that were dark with desire. “That tattoo looks so good on your skin.” She looked at Chloe and Stacie. “Maybe not as good as they do against you…” She gave a crooked smile as Chloe winked at her. “You’re incredible, Bree.”

Aubrey opened her mouth to say something but Stacie gave a particularly hard thrust and it was lost in a high grunt of pleasure, her body pushing against them all. She hitched in a breath, “I don’t know about that… what you guy s are doing is what feels incredible.” She bit her lip as they pushed again, the heel of Stacie’s palm pressing against her clit. “Oh, fuck.”

Stacie rolled her hips against Chloe again, causing her to groan softly. “You’re all beautiful and I am the luckiest Bella in the entire world.”

Beca smirked at her. “You better not try to high five yourself for doing three Captains again.” Stacie had amused herself so much with it that first night that she’d done it a few times over the past nine months. Beca secretly, or not so, thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen Stacie do. And, to be honest, Beca couldn’t really blame her because it was an amazing feat that she kind of admired.

Stacie shook her head. “I’ll save that for later.” Beca knew she would, too. “Right now, I have more important things on my mind.” She flicked a glance down at their hands and back up at Beca, one brow quirked.

Beca thought she knew what Stacie was getting at, so when she pulled back and extended her index finger as well, Beca was half a second behind her as they slid back into Aubrey. Beca felt Aubrey clench around them. “Already, Bree?” She half teased. “Thought you could hold out longer than that.”

Chloe laughed. “Don’t play with fire, Becs. You know you’ll get burned.” But her own breathing was ragged, her body pushing back against Stacie’s with every roll of her hips.

“Beca.” Aubrey paused to swallow. “Shut up and finish what you started.” She met Beca’s startled look and underneath the blown pupils and sex voice was Captain steel that Beca felt herself instantly respond to.

Beca licked her lips, distracted by how much her body reacted to Aubrey’s deeper voice, and felt her own body clench around nothing. “Jesus… How… do you… do that?” Beca inhaled deeply, trying to pull her scattered thoughts together. “Just remember, Bree. You asked for what’s about to happen.” She met Stacie’s eyes and the two of them smiled in perfect understanding and as one they sped up their thrusting, pushing Aubrey up the peak.

Chloe’s hand slid down Aubrey’s stomach and Beca watched the muscles jump until Chloe’s fingers rested on Aubrey’s clit. She hissed out a breath. “Jesus, Bree.” She lowered her mouth to flick lightly at a nipple with her tongue. “You’re so wet.” She pulled it into her mouth, eyes closing as she helped Aubrey climb higher with every circle her fingers made.

Aubrey cried out, her body bucking against them, meaningless pleading falling from her lips. “Becs… right there.” Her body locked for a second and Beca thought she was about to come undone, but Aubrey let out her breath again, as if she’d held her orgasm back by sheer will. Which would be a very Aubrey Posen like thing to do, since Beca felt she could do anything by sheer force of her will. “Stace… I need…” But Stacie was already moving, trusting Beca to keep the motion of their hands, pushing herself a fraction higher with her feet as her neck stretched to meet Aubrey’s raised head in a kiss. It was an awkward angle and Beca spared a thought to hope that neither of them pulled something, but then Aubrey fell back to the bed. Her body locked again, except the motion of her hips, meeting each thrust of their hands as she climaxed, even as they pushed her higher. As she finally went limp, they slowed, easing her back down again.

Stacie pulled her hand free and Beca captured it, pulling Stacie’s fingers one by one into her mouth, her eyes locked on Aubrey’s as she watched. Aubrey licked her own lips, her eyes still dark with desire. Beca stretched herself out on the bed, sliding her hands under Aubrey’s thighs to hold her in place.

“What…” Aubrey started but Beca cut her off.

“You told me to finish what I started, Captain.” Beca said. “I’m just following orders.” Aubrey’s mouth dropped and Beca could almost hear the ‘Oh fuck’ that must have gone through her mind if the sudden need in her eyes was any indication. She lowered her head, licking the length of Aubrey’s center and feeling her shudder. She felt two hands wind their way into her hair, holding her in place.

Beca lost track of time as she tasted and nuzzled, licked and even nipped. She was briefly aware of movement beside them, figuring it was Stacie and Chloe finally removing their own clothes, but she was focused on Aubrey. She loved pulling these sounds from her, each gasp and keen stoking her own fire higher. Each time Beca’s name fell from Aubrey’s lips, it made her push Aubrey further, faster, even though she wanted to make this last. But Aubrey was already bucking beneath her, her second orgasm rolling through her with every curl of Beca’s fingers.

Beca couldn’t help but think of that first time, where the three of them had made love to Beca then Aubrey had lifted her up the second time. That moment had forever changed her, bound her to Aubrey and Stacie in ways they hadn’t stopped discovering. She slowed her movements, hoping Aubrey understood how much it had meant to Beca, how much she cherished that first moment between them.

Then she heard Chloe cry out beside her and it was deep and guttural enough that, startled, Beca lifted her head.

Chloe was lying naked on her side, though still pressed against Aubrey, and her left leg was hooked over Stacie’s bent knee which held it up in the air. Stacie’s hand was on Chloe’s hip and Beca was treated to an extremely close up view of the strap-on Stacie was wearing being thrust into Chloe from behind.

“Holy fuck.” Beca whispered, her breath leaving her body in pure reaction.

“Oh my god.” Aubrey said immediately after her, her body still shuddering under Beca.

Stacie thrust deep and fast, her hand tightening on Chloe’s hip to anchor herself. All of Chloe’s hidden muscles were in sharp relief as her body strained against Stacie.

Beca had long realized that she had a massive toner for all her girls having muscles, but it wasn’t until that moment that she realized she had a thing for thigh muscles and both Chloe and Stacie had them in spades. If all the moisture in her body hadn’t already been heading straight between her legs, watching the two of them flexing in front of her would have sealed the deal. The desire to trace them with her tongue was almost overpowering but she couldn’t move. ‘Thigh muscles for fucking days.’

Chloe’s eyes were closed, moans and high pitched gasps slipping past her lips and all Beca could do was stare in awe at how fucking amazing the two of them looked together. She found she was completely unable to look away from Stacie’s pounding hips and the shaft disappearing into her wife.

~S~

When Beca had lowered herself back down between Aubrey’s legs, Stacie had patted Chloe on the hip. “Let’s get naked.” Chloe had nodded, her eyes hooded, and followed Stacie off the bed. They’d wasted no time in stripping, but Chloe had gone to the dresser. When she came back, she’d held one of their strap-ons out to Stacie. They had taken advantage of Stacie’s IOU shopping trip for Chloe’s birthday – several times.

Stacie had pulled the underwear on without hesitation, letting Chloe put the dildo in and lock it in place. She’d shuddered at the feel of Chloe’s fingers against her center, but Chloe had merely kissed her and backed toward the bed.

Helpless to do anything else, Stacie followed as Chloe crawled back onto it and assumed her previous position on her right side, looking over her shoulder at Stacie with need in her eyes. Stacie lay behind her, her left leg bent at the knee, and helped Chloe lift her leg over it. She dropped her hips and slid forward, allowing the length of the toy to run between Chloe’s folds, though not inside quite yet. She felt Chloe hold it in place and Stacie thrust gently, allowing Chloe’s natural lubrication to coat it while they watched Beca work Aubrey into another orgasm.

Then Stacie pulled back, angled her hips and let Chloe guide her until she could slowly press inside. After the first resistance eased, Stacie paused with the head inside, letting her adjust. Then her hand tightened on Chloe’s hip and she jerked her hips upward sharply.

Chloe cried out as she was filled, her body arching as she pushed back against Stacie. “Harder.” Stacie felt her body shudder at Chloe’s demand even as her hips picked up speed.

“Holy fuck.” She heard Beca whisper and opened her eyes to see Beca staring at them.

Aubrey had pushed herself up on her elbows and was watching them. “Oh my god.” Stacie looked up and the look on Aubrey’s face caused her to shiver again at the lust in those beautiful green eyes. If anyone other than Beca was going to understand the desire coursing through Stacie’s veins, it was Aubrey. She knew what it was to need Chloe and have Chloe demand even more in return. Then Chloe moaned again and Stacie pulled her attention back to the woman in her arms.

She gripped Chloe tighter and pushed herself to go faster with every sound Chloe made. At this point they had all used one of the strap-ons on each other, but they never grew tired of it. The trust and intimacy of it, even when it was fast and rough like now, never stopped being as exciting as the first time. Nine months later and they were still in the honeymoon stage for all that they were just now making engagement jokes. Or promises, she supposed. Stacie didn’t see any signs of that ever fading for any of them. When she had told Aubrey that she wanted to get the design as well, she’d meant it for the same reasons.

The thought of almost losing Aubrey had plagued her since they’d gotten back home, waking her more than once in the middle of the night. While the fear of losing Beca and Chloe was also there, it was to a slightly lesser degree – a thought that always made her feel instantly guilty and added to the misery she felt in the dark. While they were her heart, Aubrey was her entire world. Stacie didn’t know if she could have survived that. She knew Aubrey had the same problem, often going to work out until she came back to bed damp from a shower and trembling with overtaxed muscles. Stacie had joined her a few times, silently claiming whatever machine Aubrey wasn’t using, until Aubrey was ready to shower. There they would slowly make love as they washed each other and finally go back to bed, where, more often than not, Beca and Chloe were waiting for them.

Sometimes one of them simply woke the rest up, needing reassurances in the form of kisses and quiet moans. Beca and Chloe usually started those and Stacie had a secret suspicion they were partially doing it to ease Aubrey’s middle of the night worries without having to get up and work herself to exhaustion. And it seemed to be working because lately Aubrey had begun to follow their lead, not needing to go downstairs as frequently as before. Stacie hoped that meant Aubrey was close to putting it fully behind them. She thought the tattoos were a giant leap toward that goal and Beca’s question about marriage and Chloe’s instant, unhesitating ‘I do’ brought them even closer.

Beca scrambled sideways, taking advantage of their positioning, to lean forward toward Chloe. Stacie changed her pace to slow and deep thrusts, allowing Beca to, Stacie assumed, get her mouth over Chloe’s clit and suck. She felt Chloe tighten as she gave another cry, making each thrust require more effort. Stacie bit her lip, trying to keep her pace steady to not bounce Beca out of the way, but the need to push Chloe faster and faster was inching up her spine.

Beca made the decision for her as she pulled back, her eyes glazed but locked on them as she settled between Aubrey’s legs again. Chloe bent her body forward as Aubrey reached for her to kiss her fiercely. Stacie pulled Chloe’s leg back up and over, pushing deep within as she urged Chloe to recline half on her stomach and half on Aubrey’s side with her left leg still bent and propped up slightly by Aubrey’s leg.

Stacie rolled with her, getting her legs between Chloe’s and planted her right forearm on the mattress and her left hand back on Chloe’s hip. Finding her footing, she began to thrust again, watching Aubrey run her hand down Chloe’s arm and back up, tangling in her hair. Chloe’s face in profile was flush with exertion and beautiful; her eyes were closed, her mouth open and pulling in air to exhale a string of profanity that only urged Stacie to go faster. Sweat dripping down her body, Stacie braced herself and drove her hips, hard and fast, feeling Chloe tighten again, her body beginning to tremble under Stacie. Every time she thrust, she felt Beca’s hand where it gripped the back of Chloe’s thigh.

Stacie felt her own body tightening and wondered if she’d come undone from this alone, but then Chloe was screaming her release, her hand closing on the far side of Aubrey’s neck as her anchor. Stacie gradually slowed, though it was difficult to pull herself back from the edge. She came to a stop, still deep within, and dropped to rest on Chloe’s back, pressing kisses into her shoulder.

“You’re fucking amazing, Chloe.” Stacie said, trying to get her breath back.

Chloe let out a half laugh, her voice shaking as aftershocks rolled through her as Stacie felt her twitch. “I think I should be saying that to you.” She exhaled. “Holy shit. I can’t feel my legs.”

Stacie groaned and lifted up enough to slide backward and slip free though Chloe groaned at the loss. “That may be my fault.”

“You don’t weigh that much,” Chloe protested.

Aubrey stroked Chloe’s arm but watched Stacie. “You’re all kind of fucking amazing right now.” She laughed as Beca crawled her way up so she could kiss Aubrey. She kept her knees tucked under Aubrey’s legs, causing them to wrap high around Beca’s waist as Chloe’s leg fell to the bed. “Yes, including you.” She pulled Beca in and kissed her soundly.

Stacie smiled at their antics, the two of them were seriously adorable more than half the time, and Chloe watched them from where she was cuddled into Aubrey’s shoulder. Then Stacie’s eyes traced Beca’s body and she felt that insistent need pulse back to the front of her mind.

She moved behind Beca, her voice low and commanding. “Spread your knees, Beca.” Startled, Beca looked over her shoulder but her knees were already parting at the order. Stacie slid behind her and guided the shaft inside, watching Beca’s body press down into Aubrey as her hips tried to rise.

“Oh fuck.” Beca said on an exhale. “Please… oh Jesus, please Stacie.” Beca pushed back as Stacie ground against her.

Stacie put one hand on Beca’s hip and the other up on her shoulder as she began to move.

 ~A~

Aubrey’s breath had left her when she realized what Stacie was about to do. Knowing Beca as she did, Aubrey wasn’t surprised at her Pavlonian response to being taken this way – Aubrey felt the exact same since taking Beca that first night and the muscle memory of it was strong enough to take her breath away.

Then Beca pressed down into her when Stacie pushed her hips home and Aubrey inhaled sharply at the sensation. When Stacie found her rhythm, as hard and fast as she had taken Chloe, each thrust pushed Beca down and Aubrey was wide open and still sensitive enough that it was starting to drive her crazy. The sight of Stacie rising up behind Beca, need in every taut muscle, combined with Beca’s expressive face inches from hers, filled with blind lust and changing with every lunge from Stacie had Aubrey halfway up the peak again already.

Aubrey cupped Beca’s cheeks and saw those midnight eyes focus on her. “Bree.” It was said reverently and Beca pushed her hands between Aubrey’s shoulders and the bed until she could grip them from behind and use her as an anchor. She bit her lip as Stacie continued drive into her, muffling the scream Aubrey knew was trying to get out.

Chloe’s hand slid up into Beca’s hair. “We got you.” Aubrey tightened her legs against Beca’s sides as Chloe urged Beca’s head around until she could kiss her. “Let it out, Beca.”

Aubrey swallowed. “She’s right, love.” She leaned up and whispered into Beca’s ear. “We’re so far past holding back.” She pulled Beca’s earlobe between her teeth and bit lightly.

Stacie suddenly drove forward, pushing Beca down into Aubrey as she thrust as deeply as she could. Her hands slid down and between Aubrey and Beca. “Let me hear you, Beca.” It was that same soft commanding voice and Aubrey cried out as the thumb from Stacie’s left hand pushed firmly over her clit. As she writhed, she felt Beca lock above her as Stacie’s right hand pressed into her at the same time.

Beca’s forehead pressed into Aubrey’s left shoulder, the sound starting low in her throat, gaining in strength and volume as her body shook with the force of her release, a high keen that broke at the end with Stacie’s name on her lips. She dragged air into her lungs and moaned again, only slightly softer but no less intense as Stacie finally stilled her hands and flattened them against Beca and Aubrey’s stomachs instead. A third moan trailed off into a whimper as she clung to Aubrey.

“Holy shit.” Stacie was panting. “I love you guys.”

Aubrey watched her swallow and felt a grin twitch her lips even as she tried to regain her own breath. “Little worn out, love? And you said cardio would never come in handy.” Aubrey felt Beca give a small hiccup of a laugh and pulled back slightly to focus on her. “Hey.” She felt drops on her shoulder and knew they weren’t sweat. “Hey.” She said again, softer as she brushed Beca’s hair out of her face. Beca was still trembling in reaction but her eyes were clenched shut and fresh tears slipped free as she gave a stifled sob. “Baby.” She felt Chloe’s fingers comb through Beca’s hair, her voice soothing and gentle as she whispered words of comfort. Beca ducked under Chloe’s chin and pressed her face against Chloe’s neck with another sob, though her hands still clutched at Aubrey.

Aubrey met Stacie’s concerned gaze and smiled slightly. “She’s okay, love. That was just… a little intense for all of us.”

Stacie eased her hands from between them. “I’ll say.” She lightly stroked Beca’s back and made to move away, but Aubrey shook her head once. She and Beca were alike enough that she knew, in this moment, she’d want Stacie to stay right where she was. Need to feel connected, to keep her close. Stacie nodded slowly, her hands continuing their soft caress.

Aubrey felt Beca’s hands finally begin to lose their desperate hold on her shoulders, her body finally relaxing under their touch. She met Beca’s sheepish look with a soft smile. “Hi.”

Beca sniffled once. “I’m sorry.”

Chloe brushed Beca’s hair back and Beca turned her head to look at her. Chloe’s face was filled with such tenderness that Aubrey felt it was a little hard to breathe through the tightness in her chest. “For what, love?”

“Having emotions.” Beca replied. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All over Aubrey’s shoulder.”

“I think I’ll live.” Aubrey tightened her legs around Beca again. “And don’t ever apologize for your emotions. I kind of love them.”

“Yeah, DJ. At least you’re up to plural now.” Stacie said, always knowing when to help Beca with humor. “Freshman you would’ve said you only had one.”

Beca laughed. “Fuck you, Bucky.”

“Mmm.” Stacie hummed thoughtfully. “Let’s save that for next time. I don’t think you can move right now.”

Beca twitched again as her breath hissed out. “Holy shit. You can’t say that right now, Stace.” Aubrey heard her swallow heavily. “Not… not where you are, because you’re right, I don’t think I can move.”

Stacie chuckled. “Sorry, B. Should I…?” She trailed off briefly. “I can’t imagine you’re not… uncomfortable.”

Beca sighed. “I am, but I really don’t want you to move yet… but yeah. Maybe.” She closed her eyes as Stacie pulled away, hissing again. Aubrey smiled and nodded when Stacie pointed at the bathroom and slipped from the bed.

Moving slowly, Beca lifted herself off of Aubrey and moved to the space Chloe created between them. She lay on her back, her eyes closed and her hands folded on her stomach. Chloe slid against her side and pressed a kiss to her temple, then her cheek where Beca turned her head to meet her lips instead.

Aubrey watched them with a smile as they reassured each other wordlessly before laying back and closing her own eyes. Slowly she stretched in place, feeling only the slightest soreness in her legs that was already easing. While she hadn’t expected the afternoon to go the way it did, she wasn’t ever going to argue with how satisfied she felt in this moment. She heard the water running in the bathroom and knew that Stacie was cleaning off the toy and would place it back in the drawer for next time. She heard the water shut off and pictured Stacie walking out of the bathroom and to the dresser, the drawer opening and closing, with a detour to the hamper for the harness.

“Bree?” Beca’s voice pulled her from her musings. Aubrey looked at her. “Can you roll on your side? Left side,” she added. “Be the big spoon?”

Aubrey immediately shifted and Beca moved over, letting Aubrey pull her close. Aubrey kissed her shoulder. “How’s that?” It took Aubrey a second to remember why Beca would specify what side to lay on, having briefly forgotten her tattoo. Though, thinking back, Beca never had. Not once had she accidentally bumped it in everything that had happened.

“Perfect.” Beca sighed as Stacie crawled back into the bed. “C’mere, Stace.” She patted the space between her and Chloe. “Please?” Aubrey was deeply touched by the care Beca always took with them, because she’d arranged it so Stacie would also lay with her tattoo side free.

“Like you need to ask me twice.” Stacie said lightly as she slipped between them, Chloe pressing against her back. “Oh, wait.” She leaned back against Chloe and threw both her hands up in the air. “Go team!” And she high fived herself.

Aubrey watched her with bemused fondness. “It’s a good thing you’re soooo good in bed.” She dropped her voice and practically purred, feeling Beca twitch against her. Beca’s reaction to Aubrey’s bedroom voice never, ever, failed to make Aubrey shiver along with her.

“Psh, you love me.” Stacie said as she lowered her arms again, beyond pleased with herself.

Chloe and Beca chimed in with Aubrey. “Yeah we do.”

When Stacie had settled back into place, Beca immediately pulled her into a kiss that left them both breathless. Aubrey watched, amused, as Stacie’s eyes blinked open, almost dazed with the thoroughness of it. “I don’t even have words for what you just made me feel.” Beca said softly and kissed her again. “Or how to tell both of you…” She trailed off again.

“That’s ok, Becs.” Stacie ran her fingers across Beca’s jaw. “I know.” She met Aubrey’s eyes. “We know.”

Aubrey buried her nose in Beca’s hair and pulled her close. Sleep was tugging at her and a nap sounded like heaven. She just didn’t want to be the one to reach down for the blanket folded at the end of the bed, she was too comfortable. But as their skin cooled, she knew they’d need the covers. But before she could make herself move, Beca spoke up again.

“Um… Stace?”

“Mph?” Stacie clearly was worn out. Aubrey was going to give her such a bad time later. She sensed a lot of jogging in their future.

“Um… are you… don’t you need…” Beca stopped. “To… You know.”

“Beca.” Chloe said with exasperated affection. “Seriously? You still can’t say sex or orgasm?” She propped her chin up on Stacie’s arm. “You’re sometimes so prudish for someone who lives in the gutter.”

“It’s all part of my charm?” Beca lifted her shoulder in a shrug.

Stacie was shaking her head. “That’s Beca: An 18th century gentleman. Worried about my getting off but unable to actually say it. It’s so cute.” She grabbed Beca’s hand before it could poke her in the stomach. “But to answer the question you’re dancing around…” She smiled sheepishly. “I actually came the second you screamed my name.”

“Oh.” Beca’s voice was shyly pleased. Her hand shifted and pulled Stacie into another kiss. Her voice was stronger the next time she spoke. “Just the thought of me does it for you, huh?”

“And she’s back.” Stacie rolled her eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Chloe said fondly. Beca pushed up to kiss her.

Aubrey laughed and sat up to scoot a little toward the end of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Beca said, looking over her shoulder. Aubrey could see the vulnerability still lurking under the surface.

“Getting the blanket.” Aubrey hooked it with her foot and dragged it upward until she could get a grip on it. Stacie immediately reached up and grabbed a couple of pillows and dragged them down.

“Oooh, naptime!” Chloe sat up and reached over to help spread it over them.

Burrowing into a pillow, Stacie’s eyes were already closed. “I could nap.”

Beca waited until Aubrey was nestled against her back again, immediately pulling Aubrey’s arm around her. “Did we get old?”

“No, B.” Stacie said, opening one eye. “We’re just exhausted because we all thoroughly celebrated our engagement.”

Aubrey leaned down to whisper in Beca’s ear. “She means we just fucked the shit out of each other and now it’s time to rest up.”

“So we can do it again.” Chloe said in the most innocent of tones. “But this time I get to wear it.”

Stacie’s eyes had shot open and she stared at Beca. “They’re going to kill us.”

Beca breathed out a quiet, “Holy fuck.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but laugh. “It certainly felt like it.”

Chloe burrowed into Stacie’s back with a yawn, her arm low across Stacie’s hip, mindful of her tattoo. “Sleep now.”

“You expect me to sleep after that?” But Stacie’s eyes were closed despite her protests; her words slow as she drifted.

“You are a wicked, wicked woman, Aubrey Posen.” Beca shivered against her.

“You love it.” Aubrey teased.

“Yeah I do.” Beca sounded like she wanted to say more, but the rest was lost in a soft snore.

Aubrey let sleep pull her under, feeling several more pieces of herself slide into place.

‘Soon,’ she thought to herself. ‘We’re all safe. We’re all home. I’ll finally just be me soon enough.’

[ohthehypocrisy]

In a Moment

Drabble idea by @atfubblegum. If you have a fubblegum drabble idea, I’d love to hear it.

“What would you define a ‘moment of weakness’ as, Finn?”

That question had caught him off guard.

Here he was, staring at a simulated sunset that seemed ageless, sitting next to one of his best friends, when she suddenly asked him a strange question. He turned to her, her focus still on the virtual sun, expecting clarification but receiving none as she sat silently.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

She tilted her head upward in thought, “Well, it’s not exactly a well defined concept, but I...”

She turns to face him, her posture leaning back and the virtual sun illuminating half of her face.

“I’d like to know what you think it means,” she says to him, “You are a hero, my knight, my champion, so what does it mean to you?”

Finn and Princess Bubblegum had spent the past half hour or so simply enjoying each other’s company, touring through the Candy Kingdom castle halls, indulging themselves in the secret gardens and labs and resident pet giant cat named Timmy. It was all fun and games until it came upon them the introspection and reflection of their lives and, consequently, their friendship.

Princess Bubblegum had gone through some major changes in the past month, the weight of which was greater than the past hundred years she had been alive for. Her confrontation with Flame Princess had forced her to reexamine her methods and her trust issues, finally coming to face the centuries of paranoia and tyranny she had installed in her brain for the sake of protecting her people. She had always told herself it was worth it, a means to an end, but after eight hundred years of self sacrifice, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

But it hardly compared to the tribulations Finn was going through. He could’ve talked about anything, from breaking up with Flame Princess, the death of Billy, losing an arm, his crippling depression, but he chose to offload his father issues to her. She wasn’t fond of the idea of Finn accepting his father’s denial of his role as a parent, but Timmy the cat had quashed any potential conversation on that subject.

All had slowed to a gentle stillness now. Timmy had retired to his undersized cat bed, they were exhausted from walking around so much, and they had returned to the secret virtual reality room to unwind.

Finn was on his back, staring at the candy stone ceiling, mulling over her question, trying to find an answer that would satisfy her, as well as himself.

“A moment of weakness is...” he started, but trailed off as his words failed him, “I dunno, doing something bad?”

The princess hummed, “It’s not like surrendering yourself to the intrusive suggestions you lock away in your thoughts and immorally acting despite yourself?”

Finn tilted his head, “Huh?”

She turned to lock eyes with him, “Giving in to evil.”

“Oh,” he looked away back to the ceiling, “No, I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

He heard the princess huff, “No, you do.”

He straightened himself up and leaned up slightly off of the treadmill they were sitting on, “Wait, what do you mean?”

Princess Bubblegum leaned forward as a futile means of distancing herself from Finn, “Remember how you and Flame Princess broke up?”

Finn reflexively looked away, “Uh, yeah.”

“That was your moment of weakness,” she explained, Finn looking back to her, the princess staring into the virtual sun, “You defied common sense and tricked two people into fighting each other for your own amusement.”

He leaned back onto the floor, unable to look at the princess as she recounted his shameful memory.

“That’s not just wrong, Finn,” she looks over to him, seeing him more focused on the ceiling than listening to her. It was the expected response, she knew, “It was evil.”

“I said I was sorry,” he muttered just loud enough to be heard, a hint of defiance in his tone.

“And I understand that,” she said, placing an assuring hand on his knee, “And I’m not saying that makes you evil, it was a moment of weakness for you.”

Finn patted his stomach and wiggled his feet, as if he was physically processing her words. He tightened his lips and flexed his cheeks, unsure of how he was supposed to respond.

“Well, how about,” he leans up slightly to look at her, “What was your moment of weakness?”

She sighs in frustration, the feeling of which was aimed not at him but herself, “You can’t even begin to fathom how many of those I have had.”

There was a pause, a moment of processing the magnitude of the many years she had been alive for and the countless things she had done for her kingdom, before Finn responded, “How about something recent?”

She leaned back, supporting herself with her skinny arms, head craned in thought, “How about...” she started, looking above the setting virtual sun, “That time Ice King infected the Candy Kingdom with his freezer burn, and I had you and Jake take him hostage?”

It was years ago, but Finn remembered it clearly, particularly because it was the first instance of many that he realized the princess was capable of doing wrong, in contrast to the perfect image she and his mind had painted her in.

“Yeah, you wanted us to beat up an innocent old man,” he simplified, resting his head back on the floor, “Yeah, I get’cha. ‘Cuz, like, it didn’t matter if he got hurt, as long as your peeps were okay, right?”

“But it was still wrong and you knew it,” Bubblegum had taken to leaning and laying down beside him, staring at the ceiling as well, “It didn’t matter if he deserved it, or if he even knew what he did. It was below me to treat him as such, but I thought saving my people justified the means.”

Finn patted his chest to quell the distraction of the ensuing silence, remembering how he had told the princess of her wrongdoing, even after seeing for himself the horrifying disease the Ice King had unleashed onto her people. It was pitiful and deplorable but, most importantly, it could be cured, and the princess was prepared to extract it through any means necessary.

But even he had to put his foot down, unable to bring himself to mistreat the Ice King so, and he made sure she knew all about it. It surprised him, however, that she knew what she was doing was wrong, that she would be reviled for it afterwards, and if it weren’t for Finn, who knows where that path would’ve led her to?

“You’ve changed a lot since then,” Finn brought himself to comment.

He felt her hand on his shoulder, “So have you.”

Finn chuckled a bit forcefully despite himself, looking over to see the princess’s soft, understanding face.

“So, I guess,” he fiddled with his words as Bubblegum retracted her hand, “A moment of weakness would be, like, being too weak to stop yourself from doing something bad.”

“That’s a flawed definition, contextually speaking,” she brought up, turning to face the ceiling again, “Because, like, what if I eat one cupcake too many, even though I’m on a diet?”

“Wouldn’t that still be bad?” Finn asked, looking back up, “I mean, not following your diet is bad for you.”

She giggled, “Okay, that was a dumb example, but you know what I mean,” she leaned up until she was on her side, arm propping up her head as she faced him, “A moment of weakness by definition isn’t exclusive to morality.”

“Not even a little?” he speaks up, leaning slightly to face her, “I mean, if you do the opposite of the right thing, and you can’t stop yourself, isn’t that rooted in moral basis leaning on the bad side of the scale?”

The princess smiled. She couldn’t help but find his poor string of words endearing and admired the fact that he was trying to make sense with them.

“Okay, you have a point,” she turned to lay on her back again, “The magnitude of morality widens the further down the spectrum you go, and the same goes for succumbing to moments of weakness, I suppose.”

“That should be true of the opposite, right?”

“Huh?” she turned to face him, watching him lean upwards until he was sitting straight. 

“You know, the opposite of a moment of weakness?” he asked with a gesture of a hand.

“Like...a moment of strength?” she asked, slowly lifting herself up.

“Yeah. What is a moment of strength?” he asked, looking at his two hands as if they were the plates of a scale, “Is it just being strong for a moment, or something deeper?”

Princess Bubblegum had righted herself and had taken to mulling over the philosophy of the principal of morality.

“If the opposite of a moment of weakness follows a polarized definition word for word,” she said, almost muttering to herself, “Then yeah, a moment of strength is the acting of the best interest despite yourself.”

“Like fighting a strong monster trying to save some peeps,” Finn pointed out, feeling brief pride at his professional definition, “Even though it might be too strong for you.”

“Or shutting down your entire security system,” she said nonchalantly, looking back up to the virtual sunset they had been neglecting.

“Yeah, something like that,” Finn tapped his fingers on his knees, finding the courage to say to her, “Why d’you ask?”

“Huh?” she had been snapped out of her train of thought as she looked to Finn.

“Why’d you get all metaphorical on me, Peebs?” he had taken to subconsciously patting his legs with his hands, “I mean, philosophylis, I mean, soul searchy?”

Princess Bubblegum couldn’t help but giggle, brushing aside her hair over her shoulder, “Well, I thought about having a moment of weakness right now.”

“Say what now?” he looked to her, finding that she had scooted a bit too close.

“You know, acting despite myself in this very moment,” she briefly looked away, “But, I suppose if I’m aware of it, would choosing to act on it be a moment of strength instead?”

Finn had two whole years to get over this feeling. He had quashed it time and time again whenever he looked at her, thought about her, cementing the respect he had for her as a close friend. And yet, something in him decided that she would look so enchanting if there was a strong breeze to swat at her hair as the virtual sun was setting.

Finn had fought himself from acting on the suggestions intruding on his mind, a moment of weakness.

But in a moment of strength, he disregarded those childish notions and acted on his own.

“It depends...” he said calmly, quietly as he inched a little closer, “Is it a good thought or a bad thought?”

Bubblegum turned to face him, surprised but pleased that he was so close to her now.

“I don’t know...but I wanna find out,” she said, staring into his eyes as her own widened.

Their hands moved into each other as they closed in.

Finn and Bubblegum were surprised to come back to the slumber party with half of the invited guests having been chucked into a pit of bath water that was definitely NOT there before they left. The candy people were rescued, their bodies dried off, and order was restored before everyone had to be tucked in for the night.

“You guys were gone for a while,” Jake said to Finn as they unfurled their sleeping bags, “What were you two doing?”

“We were just hangin’ out, man,” Finn answered, climbing into his bag.

“You didn’t do anything, did’ya?” Jake said skeptically, his face baring an expression of wile.

“Nah, man. We just had a moment, that’s it,” he zipped up his bag.

“What kind of moment? You can tell me, bro,” the dog nudged him with his long arms.

Finn giggled, then said with a happy breath, “A moment of strength.”

[zenosanalytic]

Discworld: Feet of Clay

This was a REALLY interesting book. Like, it didn’t even really seem to be ABOUT the plot and Main Action?

Or, well, maybe it would be better to say that the main action, all along, was the Golems, and Pratchett kinda throws you for a loop by slowburning that plotline while distracting you with the Vetinari poisoning one(which is Clever, since the major point of the poisoning plot like is missing the Real cause or point of something because it’s too obvious and simple to see, so it kinda ties the whole golem thing into the poisoning thing’s themes in a way), but that’s not really what I mean either? What I mean is that this story kinda felt, to me, like it was about people’s flaws; examining them, showing other people react to them, showing how them impacted the lives of that person and those around them and the city, ect. Or at least, that this was a common theme in many of the subplots which the book seemed to be more interested in than the action. To me, at least.

Which, of course, touches on the Puns in this title. Pun Count:

It’s about Golems, which are made of clay, so physically about “Feet of Clay”.

It’s about the aspirations, and conditions, and flaws of golems(the misunderstanding about Words, what they did with their Childking), so about, among other things, their metaphorical “Feet of Clay”.

There’s a lot of running in it, and sedan-chair-hauling, and otherwise pedestrian movement.

It’s about Angua struggling with her feelings for Carrot, her flaws, and his flaws(as she sees them, since some of the biggest ones are what most people consider virtues)

The questionable origins, and even more questionable habits, of Nobby Nobbs(I LOVE that this is his actual name, I figured Nobby was a nick, his name is literally “Richie Rich” XD XD XD).

How the ambition, arrogance, and pride(flaws) of A-M’s nobility and Burghers, exemplified by Dragon King of Arms, lead them to make fools of themselves courting Nobby Nobbs.

Sargent Colon, his flaws, his perennially backfiring attempts to outsmart others, and the unfortunate fate of his fantasy of “returning”(he was born and raised in the city) to a simpler, more honest life closer to The Land.

The strain that Vimes’ flaws(workaholism, for one) put him, his marriage, and his underlings under. Also: the impact of his origins(his “common clay” heritage) on Vimes’ life and sense of morality(we also see a bit of this with Angua, and I suppose with Carrot, given his Dwarvish reactions to Cheri). Also-Also: his reflexive egalitarian sympathy and support for The Little Guy, or just anyone or any action that  pisses lots of people off. Particularly if they’re rich people.

Vetinari’s flaws(workaholism, for one) and how they’re exploited, for a time, to get him out of the way.

This might be a stretch, but a central device(heh heh heh >:3) of the story is Coats of Arms(otherwise, “Arms of Nobility”), their condition in A-M, and how newly rich common-born folks(again, the “common clay”) covet them for the status they convey. Just to make that explicit, the story deals, in part, with the tension between Arms of Nobility and Feet(origins) of Clay.

An exploration of the exploitation at the foundation of A-M’s bustling, world-class economy; its quite actual “Feet of Clay”, given the role of Golems and treadmills in it.

The theft of a few pallets of clay, in otherwords a few “feet of clay”, is of central importance to figuring out the mystery.

It deals with parenting! It deals with how many parents will try to put all their hopes and dreams on a child and, in doing so, really only heap them over with their flaws!! And at the sametime it does that, it also attacks the idea of kingship and the need people feel for hierarchy by showing that literally drive the person it is invested in insane, because this is Pratchett, the implacable anti-royalist, poster-author for “Power Corrupts�� anti-authoritarianism, and so Of Course it does.

You get the idea: flaws play a big role in the plot, and the book takes alot of time to discuss them in most of the characters. So it’s not really as complicated as Men at Arms -there’s only two major puns there “Feet of Clay” for Golems with clay feet and the “Feet of Clay”(flaws) of people- but the second one is explored pretty thoroughly without ever going “wow hey look at how deep we’re going to be this is a book about how people aren’t perfect and how that imperfection shapes their lives and everything else”, or ever really abandoning its sense of humor.

I thought we got some interesting looks at Vetinari here, who we really haven’t spent much time with up until now. From Guards! we know that he is knowledgeable enough about swords to be able to snap one in half, apparently open-handed, instantaneously when wielded against him by someone who doesn’t really know how to use them, and in Feet of Clay we learn that he studied with the Assassins’ Guild at somepoint(though it’s unclear if he picked up the trick from them; Men at Arms makes it clear they don’t emphasize unarmed techniques). We learn Vetinari knows about poisons and has studied the strategies of poisoning, but again we can’t say he learned this from the AG since, while they DO study poisons, they frown on them as not being up-close and personal enough for their rank(since most Assassins are A-M aristos). We learn that, even when he’s been poisoned with arsenic which isn’t pleasant, he insists on working into the night., which is to say we’ve learned Vetinari has a real problem admitting his own weakness, or hurts, or pains, and that he doesn’t usually trust that other people will be competent(or particularly trustworthy, but we knew that). We know he’s writing a book called The Rites of Man, which seems an odd sort of thing for an autocrat with no particular interest in religion(beyond the practical given trigger-happy gods, I am sure) to be writing. We know that he feels he has “created” Vimes in someway, and that he feels a certain tolerant affection for him that sometimes leads to quixotic behavior on his part. We learned that he likes to see Vimes in action, even when he already knows how to solve a problem Vimes is working on, and that he’s willing to prolong crises, when it suits his objectives as well, just for the pleasure of seeing Vimes being Vimes. And I kind of, actually, wonder if this creates a sort of feeling of kinship between him and Carrot, given that Carrot finds Vimes as inspirational and most folks seem to find him.

Hmmm.... what else.... Dorfl’s Robocop quote near the end had me entirely metaphorically yelling I was so pleased. I thought the ending, and how Pratchett kept Angua in A-M was really sweet.

OH! How could my brain edit out Cheri like that on me for this whole essay >:( Treasonous I tells ya >:[ >:[ I don’t really know if Cheri’s storyline fits into the whole “Feet of Clay” puntheme necessarily. I mean, you could make a clay=transformation argument but I’d rather not |:T In regards to that particular bit of the story I’d say she was more of a foil: that Carrot’s reactions to her elucidated his flaws, but that this didn’t really have anything to do with her other than incidentally. There IS a certain obvious irony in her viewing A-M as a place she could get away to to be herself openly and freely, while heaping prejudiced insults on Angua(who came to the city to be herself in a different way, by suppressing a part of herself she disliked) for most of the book. Cheri’s not spared from being shown as flawed and having those flaws influence her path through the book of course: there’s her anti-were feelings and how that impacts her relationship with Angua. But there’s also how she came to The Watch in the first place; by not having traditional Dwarf interests, and by blowing up the senior leadership of the Alchemists’ Guild. And her biggest breakthrough, the arsenic grease, is something she thinks, at first, is a mistake, which was kind of a cool way to run with the whole “flaw” thing(particularly with her), by showing that, sometimes what we’ve been taught to see as a flaw or “wrong” is really the key to our success :) Also the bit of worldbuilding here, that plenty of Dwarves don’t really find out about the anatomy of their partners until rather late into courtship, and are often happy with whatever they find, meaning that, despite Carrot’s spot-consideration on the topic that terms like “mother” and “father” probably have more to do with social or familial roles than gendered anatomy, was pretty Neat, as was that there are Dwarves who FEEL “feminine”, and want to live as such, with certain Dwarven adjustments :p

Hmm Ok, I think that’s it, though I finished this book ~ 3 days ago so I’m prob forgetting some stuff that I wanted to write about |:T |:T

[rxshoponline]

Order Soma To Deal With Lumbar Pain

Lumbar pain, which is also referred to as lower back pain, inflicts nearly 75 percent of adults in the United States of America. This might be due to the fact that the majority of people in the U.S. are living strained and hectic lives. Sleep deprivation, lack of rest, improper walking and standing postures and long working hours sitting in front of computers in an inappropriate posture are some of the primary factors that are causing lumbar pain. Low back pain condition affects the spine’s strength, stability and flexibility adversely, which might lead to stiffness and discomfort in the area. Order Soma 350mg, a musculoskeletal condition pain reliever, people suffering from lumbar pain can control their distress and difficulties to a great extent.

Indications of Lumbar Pain

Some of the signs of this condition are pain, stiffness, and tenderness in the lower back, experiencing leg fatigue when walking, difficulty in standing upright for a long duration, uneasiness while sitting, pain exasperating into the legs, etc. The main cause of lumbar pain may not be easily determined. Typically, it is caused due to stress from bending, lifting or twisting. This indicates spine inflexibility; that people are not in the best of their health. To overcome lower back pain, discuss your problem with a trained medico and order Soma online.

Some forms of lumbar pain are signals of severe complications, like infections, ovarian cysts, and arthritic or rheumatic conditions. A bulging or ruptured disk might be the culprit. On the other hand, compression fracture of the spinal cord or bones may also lead to lumbar back pain, particularly in elderly women with osteoporosis. Moreover, dissatisfaction from life, smoking, poor fitness levels are known to exasperate an individual’s risks of experiencing lumbar back problems.

A visit to an experienced and qualified doctor will solve your lower back problem. The doctor will ask you to move, stand and sit, which would help them in checking your response and reflexes to pinprick, touch or slight heat. For mild pain, the doctor might suggest strength testing on a treadmill. However, if lumbar back pain is severe in nature, the physician will require an X-ray, magnetic resonance imaging scan and blood test to assess the condition in detail. Afterward, the healthcare specialist may recommend Soma to reduce distress. You can buy Soma 350mg online or even a 250mg dose for lumbar pain after receiving the necessary guidelines from your medical care expert.

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

First step in direction of a greater prosthetic leg? Journey folks time and again

http://tinyurl.com/y3cy9xpn Andrés Martínez strode briskly on the treadmill, staring straight forward and counting backwards by seven from 898, a trick to maintain his mind from anticipating the literal stumbling block heading his method: a compact 35 kilos of metal particularly designed to make him fall. Particular goggles stored him from trying down. Arrows on an eye-level display stored him from strolling off the perimeters. A harness hooked up to a ceiling beam stored him protected. Certain sufficient, when a pc program launched the metal block, it glided onto the treadmill, and the Vanderbilt College PhD pupil struggled to remain on his toes. That computerized stumble response, so pure for most individuals, is just about not possible for individuals who use prosthetic legs, just because even state-of-the-art prosthetics can’t adapt to stumbling. Sufferers with above-the-knee amputations are way more more likely to fall than typical counterparts of their age group. Step one a Vanderbilt workforce took in addressing that problem in lower-body prosthetics was coming to know the way in which folks with two legs catch themselves, completed by overlaying check topics with motion-capturing sensors. It additionally required tripping them time and again – 190 instances, to be precise — for a research revealed this month within the Journal of NeuroEngineering and Rehabilitation. However as a result of people are so mentally geared to withstand stumbling, a workforce of Vanderbilt mechanical engineers first needed to design the stumbling gadget described above. “Not solely did our treadmill gadget need to journey them, it needed to journey them at particular factors of their gait,” stated Shane King, a PhD pupil and lead writer on the paper. “Individuals stumble in another way relying on when their foot hits a barrier. The gadget additionally needed to overcome their concern of falling, so that they could not see or really feel when the block was coming.” Along with defending check topics, the harness included a scale. If a topic put 50 p.c or extra of their weight on it, that counted as a fall. The workforce’s design for the machine and outcomes of their checks can be found for different labs to make use of within the open-source journal. Michael Goldfarb, H. Fort Flowers Professor of Mechanical Engineering and the principal investigator on the research, stated designing the stumble gadget and measuring outcomes was solely the primary of three components. “So now we perceive what the stumble reflex ought to appear to be,” he stated. “The following part is to take that info and program it into computer-controlled prosthetic legs. After that, we are going to safely stumble amputees carrying each commercially out there prosthetics and those we have designed with these reflexes and be taught whether or not ours can forestall extra falls.” ### The work was carried out by way of the Heart for Rehabilitation Engineering and Assistive Know-how at Vanderbilt College. Different workforce members had been Karl Zelik, assistant professor of mechanical engineering, and Maura Eveld, a PhD pupil in mechanical engineering. Disclaimer: AAAS and EurekAlert! usually are not liable for the accuracy of reports releases posted to EurekAlert! by contributing establishments or for using any info by way of the EurekAlert system. Source link

[byronheeutgm]

8 Telltale Signs You Need a Word-of-Mouth Strategy [A Checklist]

The best way to grow ANY business is for your customers to grow it for you. That’s where word of mouth comes in: customers going out of their way to tell other people (prospective customers) about your products and services.

Since the cavemen days, this has been the most effective and cost-effective form of customer acquisition. Yet today, even though (and perhaps because of the fact) we are surrounded by advertising options, we almost reflexively design marketing programs that talk TO customers, instead of letting the customers talk with each other.

At Convince & Convert, we believe that every company in the world could benefit from a better word of mouth strategy. But some companies need word of mouth more acutely. Are you among them?

Here’s our quick checklist that helps determine if you really need a word of mouth boost:

1. Your Customer Acquisition Costs are Going Up

One of my favorite sayings isn’t ENTIRELY true, but it’s true enough. It’s from Robert Stephens, founder of GeekSquad:

Advertising is a tax, paid by the unremarkable.

If you have to buy every click, every lead, and every sale you simply are working too hard to get new customers.

Advertising is a tax, paid by the unremarkable. Click To Tweet 2. Your Sales Team Has to Tell Your Entire Story, Every Time

This one is more B2B than B2C. If potential customers show up and don’t know ANYTHING about your company or your offerings, it’s because nobody told them about you first; they just parachuted into your funnel, probably from Google. Unless you have an incredible sales team, those cold leads are the hardest and most expensive to close.

3. You Have Low Branded Search Traffic

Speaking of Google, if very few people are searching for the name of your company or your products/services, it typically means (unless you’re new) that you have insufficient awareness and brand-name demand. That can at least partially be solved with a strong word of mouth strategy.

4. Your Budget Allocation is Lopsided

A report from Adobe said that approximately 80% of the average B2B company’s revenue comes from existing customers, in some form. Yet, those companies spend approximately 2% of total budget on customer experience and customer service — the very things that create word of mouth and referrals.

If your marketing and operations budget for customer acquisition is dramatically larger that the budget for CX and retention, you probably need better word of mouth.

80% of the average #B2B company's revenue comes from existing customers. Click To Tweet 5. You’re Losing Deals on Price

If your potential customers are looking at you vs. competitors and consistently going with the lowest price, you aren’t giving them anything psychological or emotional that justifies the economics. This is one of the great benefits of word of mouth strategy: real people make recommendations that make it okay for other people to make a purchase.

Look at Peloton, the wildly popular exercise bike/treadmill and online classes system. Peloton word of mouth is so strong, it’s almost cultish. But the raving fans are what powers the brand. Taken out of context, and absent that word of mouth, it would be tough to justify the expensive bike + the ongoing fees.

6. You Don’t Have a Consistent Differentiator Bubbling up in Social or Reviews

One thing we know to be true is that competency doesn’t often create conversation. Customers expect you to be competent, so meeting that expectation isn’t particularly talkable. What creates word of mouth are elements of your experience that are OUTSIDE the norm; things customers do not expect.

When you have something like that (we call it a talk trigger, and have a whole strategy system for creating them for our clients), it shows up consistently in social media, and online reviews.

For example:

Have you ever been reading something and you read it like 6 or 7 times and you have that revelation that you’ve been reading the same page over and over and haven’t comprehended anything. And then you realize its the Cheesecake Factory menu and your whole table’s pissed at you

— Bert Macklin (@NighthawkSmash) December 25, 2018

(here are a bunch of others)

7. You Have Poor Social Media Engagement

There can be other reasons why your social media is mediocre or worse. But one consistent element of companies that have strong word of mouth is that their organic social gets engagement. Customers WANT to interact with the business, and they WANT to tell the story to their friends.

8. You Have High Employee Turnover

Like social engagement, there can be other culprits here. But, we find that companies with strong word of mouth have a culture aligned around the customer experience, and making it talkable. It’s no accident that those businesses also work hard to create an outstanding experience for their personnel. This is all about the values of company leadership, ultimately.

Because if your employees aren’t your biggest advocates, you have problems much bigger than word of mouth.

It’s possible to have strong word of mouth without a great corporate culture, but a lot less likely.

So there you have it: our checklist for whether you need word of mouth in your business. If we can help you, ask us for a free call to discuss.

And, we have two Webinars next week (no cost) on this topic. Tune in!

How to Grow Your B2B Business Without Wasting Money on Ads

How to Grow Your B2C Business Without Wasting Money on Ads

The post 8 Telltale Signs You Need a Word-of-Mouth Strategy [A Checklist] appeared first on Convince and Convert: Social Media Consulting and Content Marketing Consulting.

http://bit.ly/2H43ekZ

[conniecogeie]

8 Telltale Signs You Need a Word-of-Mouth Strategy [A Checklist]

The best way to grow ANY business is for your customers to grow it for you. That’s where word of mouth comes in: customers going out of their way to tell other people (prospective customers) about your products and services.

Since the cavemen days, this has been the most effective and cost-effective form of customer acquisition. Yet today, even though (and perhaps because of the fact) we are surrounded by advertising options, we almost reflexively design marketing programs that talk TO customers, instead of letting the customers talk with each other.

At Convince & Convert, we believe that every company in the world could benefit from a better word of mouth strategy. But some companies need word of mouth more acutely. Are you among them?

Here’s our quick checklist that helps determine if you really need a word of mouth boost:

1. Your Customer Acquisition Costs are Going Up

One of my favorite sayings isn’t ENTIRELY true, but it’s true enough. It’s from Robert Stephens, founder of GeekSquad:

Advertising is a tax, paid by the unremarkable.

If you have to buy every click, every lead, and every sale you simply are working too hard to get new customers.

Advertising is a tax, paid by the unremarkable. Click To Tweet 2. Your Sales Team Has to Tell Your Entire Story, Every Time

This one is more B2B than B2C. If potential customers show up and don’t know ANYTHING about your company or your offerings, it’s because nobody told them about you first; they just parachuted into your funnel, probably from Google. Unless you have an incredible sales team, those cold leads are the hardest and most expensive to close.

3. You Have Low Branded Search Traffic

Speaking of Google, if very few people are searching for the name of your company or your products/services, it typically means (unless you’re new) that you have insufficient awareness and brand-name demand. That can at least partially be solved with a strong word of mouth strategy.

4. Your Budget Allocation is Lopsided

A report from Adobe said that approximately 80% of the average B2B company’s revenue comes from existing customers, in some form. Yet, those companies spend approximately 2% of total budget on customer experience and customer service — the very things that create word of mouth and referrals.

If your marketing and operations budget for customer acquisition is dramatically larger that the budget for CX and retention, you probably need better word of mouth.

80% of the average #B2B company's revenue comes from existing customers. Click To Tweet 5. You’re Losing Deals on Price

If your potential customers are looking at you vs. competitors and consistently going with the lowest price, you aren’t giving them anything psychological or emotional that justifies the economics. This is one of the great benefits of word of mouth strategy: real people make recommendations that make it okay for other people to make a purchase.

Look at Peloton, the wildly popular exercise bike/treadmill and online classes system. Peloton word of mouth is so strong, it’s almost cultish. But the raving fans are what powers the brand. Taken out of context, and absent that word of mouth, it would be tough to justify the expensive bike + the ongoing fees.

6. You Don’t Have a Consistent Differentiator Bubbling up in Social or Reviews

One thing we know to be true is that competency doesn’t often create conversation. Customers expect you to be competent, so meeting that expectation isn’t particularly talkable. What creates word of mouth are elements of your experience that are OUTSIDE the norm; things customers do not expect.

When you have something like that (we call it a talk trigger, and have a whole strategy system for creating them for our clients), it shows up consistently in social media, and online reviews.

For example:

Have you ever been reading something and you read it like 6 or 7 times and you have that revelation that you’ve been reading the same page over and over and haven’t comprehended anything. And then you realize its the Cheesecake Factory menu and your whole table’s pissed at you

— Bert Macklin (@NighthawkSmash) December 25, 2018

(here are a bunch of others)

7. You Have Poor Social Media Engagement

There can be other reasons why your social media is mediocre or worse. But one consistent element of companies that have strong word of mouth is that their organic social gets engagement. Customers WANT to interact with the business, and they WANT to tell the story to their friends.

8. You Have High Employee Turnover

Like social engagement, there can be other culprits here. But, we find that companies with strong word of mouth have a culture aligned around the customer experience, and making it talkable. It’s no accident that those businesses also work hard to create an outstanding experience for their personnel. This is all about the values of company leadership, ultimately.

Because if your employees aren’t your biggest advocates, you have problems much bigger than word of mouth.

It’s possible to have strong word of mouth without a great corporate culture, but a lot less likely.

So there you have it: our checklist for whether you need word of mouth in your business. If we can help you, ask us for a free call to discuss.

And, we have two Webinars next week (no cost) on this topic. Tune in!

How to Grow Your B2B Business Without Wasting Money on Ads

How to Grow Your B2C Business Without Wasting Money on Ads

The post 8 Telltale Signs You Need a Word-of-Mouth Strategy [A Checklist] appeared first on Convince and Convert: Social Media Consulting and Content Marketing Consulting.

http://bit.ly/2H43ekZ

[rodneyevesuarywk]

8 Telltale Signs You Need a Word-of-Mouth Strategy [A Checklist]

The best way to grow ANY business is for your customers to grow it for you. That’s where word of mouth comes in: customers going out of their way to tell other people (prospective customers) about your products and services.

Since the cavemen days, this has been the most effective and cost-effective form of customer acquisition. Yet today, even though (and perhaps because of the fact) we are surrounded by advertising options, we almost reflexively design marketing programs that talk TO customers, instead of letting the customers talk with each other.

At Convince & Convert, we believe that every company in the world could benefit from a better word of mouth strategy. But some companies need word of mouth more acutely. Are you among them?

Here’s our quick checklist that helps determine if you really need a word of mouth boost:

1. Your Customer Acquisition Costs are Going Up

One of my favorite sayings isn’t ENTIRELY true, but it’s true enough. It’s from Robert Stephens, founder of GeekSquad:

Advertising is a tax, paid by the unremarkable.

If you have to buy every click, every lead, and every sale you simply are working too hard to get new customers.

Advertising is a tax, paid by the unremarkable. Click To Tweet 2. Your Sales Team Has to Tell Your Entire Story, Every Time

This one is more B2B than B2C. If potential customers show up and don’t know ANYTHING about your company or your offerings, it’s because nobody told them about you first; they just parachuted into your funnel, probably from Google. Unless you have an incredible sales team, those cold leads are the hardest and most expensive to close.

3. You Have Low Branded Search Traffic

Speaking of Google, if very few people are searching for the name of your company or your products/services, it typically means (unless you’re new) that you have insufficient awareness and brand-name demand. That can at least partially be solved with a strong word of mouth strategy.

4. Your Budget Allocation is Lopsided

A report from Adobe said that approximately 80% of the average B2B company’s revenue comes from existing customers, in some form. Yet, those companies spend approximately 2% of total budget on customer experience and customer service — the very things that create word of mouth and referrals.

If your marketing and operations budget for customer acquisition is dramatically larger that the budget for CX and retention, you probably need better word of mouth.

80% of the average #B2B company's revenue comes from existing customers. Click To Tweet 5. You’re Losing Deals on Price

If your potential customers are looking at you vs. competitors and consistently going with the lowest price, you aren’t giving them anything psychological or emotional that justifies the economics. This is one of the great benefits of word of mouth strategy: real people make recommendations that make it okay for other people to make a purchase.

Look at Peloton, the wildly popular exercise bike/treadmill and online classes system. Peloton word of mouth is so strong, it’s almost cultish. But the raving fans are what powers the brand. Taken out of context, and absent that word of mouth, it would be tough to justify the expensive bike + the ongoing fees.

6. You Don’t Have a Consistent Differentiator Bubbling up in Social or Reviews

One thing we know to be true is that competency doesn’t often create conversation. Customers expect you to be competent, so meeting that expectation isn’t particularly talkable. What creates word of mouth are elements of your experience that are OUTSIDE the norm; things customers do not expect.

When you have something like that (we call it a talk trigger, and have a whole strategy system for creating them for our clients), it shows up consistently in social media, and online reviews.

For example:

Have you ever been reading something and you read it like 6 or 7 times and you have that revelation that you’ve been reading the same page over and over and haven’t comprehended anything. And then you realize its the Cheesecake Factory menu and your whole table’s pissed at you

— Bert Macklin (@NighthawkSmash) December 25, 2018

(here are a bunch of others)

7. You Have Poor Social Media Engagement

There can be other reasons why your social media is mediocre or worse. But one consistent element of companies that have strong word of mouth is that their organic social gets engagement. Customers WANT to interact with the business, and they WANT to tell the story to their friends.

8. You Have High Employee Turnover

Like social engagement, there can be other culprits here. But, we find that companies with strong word of mouth have a culture aligned around the customer experience, and making it talkable. It’s no accident that those businesses also work hard to create an outstanding experience for their personnel. This is all about the values of company leadership, ultimately.

Because if your employees aren’t your biggest advocates, you have problems much bigger than word of mouth.

It’s possible to have strong word of mouth without a great corporate culture, but a lot less likely.

So there you have it: our checklist for whether you need word of mouth in your business. If we can help you, ask us for a free call to discuss.

And, we have two Webinars next week (no cost) on this topic. Tune in!

How to Grow Your B2B Business Without Wasting Money on Ads

How to Grow Your B2C Business Without Wasting Money on Ads

The post 8 Telltale Signs You Need a Word-of-Mouth Strategy [A Checklist] appeared first on Convince and Convert: Social Media Consulting and Content Marketing Consulting.

http://bit.ly/2H43ekZ