#shes built for speed and agility

[brain-rot-hour]

Listen

It's a thing, okay?

Or it will be

I'm really really really excited

@dawnrider

[laurasimonsdaughter]

“The first thing you need to know,” the stable master announced loudly to the gaggle of school children trailing behind her, “is that these are not unicorns.”

Eleven-year-olds tended to be loud. Their silent scepticism was deafening.

“You cannot keep unicorns in captivity,” she continued. “These are all crossbreeds, mostly with specific breeds of horses.”

There was a small murmur of curiosity and a gangly arm shot up into the air.

“Yes?”

“Only mostly horses?”

It was always fun when some of them paid close attention. “Only mostly horses. I only deal with European breeds, and they tend to cross well with horses. See this here is a cross between a grey Thoroughbred and an English Unicorn. They’re large, and reasonably docile.” They also had that champagne sheen most showy folk preferred. “For people who come here looking for a steed, this is their best bet. Although I've only ever seen it done by people who personally broke them as yearlings.”

By now she definitely had the whole class’s full attention.

“But this French Licorne cross is actually half fallow deer.” She gestured to the pasture beyond the fence. “Look at them. Slight build, slender legs, built for speed and agility. They need a lot of space but they are beautiful to look at, and they’re relatively easy to tame for the pure of heart.” There was still something distinctly deer-like about them and they were all so beautifully cream coloured that they almost took on a silver hue.

“What’s those hairy ones?” a voice piped up.

“That’s a Unicorno/Shetland mix, from central Italy. Traditionally they tend to be crossed with Monterufolino, but they are hard to come by and make their coats even darker.” Unicorni were naturally built more like ponies, some with considerably shorter horns, and their coats were often a much darker gold, or even brown. They were less flighty than the French breeds though, even if they showed blatant favouritism towards certain caretakers. They would even pull a carriage if properly motivated.

“Do you have any bigger ones?”

The stable master turned around. “What was that?”

One of the boys was standing behind her with a determined look on his face. “Do you have any like that but bigger. With the beards and the furry hooves.”

“Feathering,” she corrected automatically and the boy nodded eagerly. She frowned. “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s really big unicorns,” he pressed. “With wild manes and tails and split hooves like the French ones but hair like those ones!”

“Buddy,” she laughed, “what you’re describing there is a Scottish unicorn and let me tell you, they cannot even be crossbred into domestication.”

The little face fell.

“Any offspring of an Aon-adharcach will be as wild as they are no one can capture them with their horn still intact, not on your life. You go near one of them with a halter and it will skewer you.”

She smiled at the boy, who still looked rather taken aback, despite this proof of his favourites superiority.

“Tell you what. If you want to see something unhinged and imposing, I’ll take you to see the Eenhoorn/Friesian cross we’ve just got in from the Netherlands.”

[cryptotheism]

which amber skies character would go easy on me in basketball to foster a love for the sport and which one would dunk on my ass to make me strive for perfection?

Student: Your ankles are shattered. She wins by dunking but also hits her head on the backboard trying to show off.

Teacher: "Now that I have learned this 'Balling' I believe my height and flexibility give me an unfair advantage."

Sorcerer: Mechanical body is not exactly built for ballin, but gives it the old college try.

Nico: Genetically augmented for speed and agility. Knows that using his mantis form would be cheating. Goes easy on you and you both have a fun time.

Kali: She is 6'4''. She goes easy on you, and you have a fun time, but are filled with a sort of tribal desire to impress her. Triggering her competitive spirit will destroy your ankles.

Marin: Does his best to dribble. Has a fun time.

Kip: "Using my tongue does count as possession." Plays like a bastard but you have a fun time.

Lunine: Does her best. Will get slightly mad at you if she thinks you're travelling. Counts the shot clock out loud.

Six: Will alter his augments to match your physical ability. Gives you pointers on your form. Encourages you. Brought popsicles and homemade lemonade. You have a genuinely wonderful time.

Silence-Between-Strikes: Your eyes cannot physically track her dribbling. Uses her superior speed to position herself in your blindspots. Fifteen foot vertical leap from half-court. LIDAR telemetry sinks a seamless three-pointer at 145mph. Nothing but net.

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (endless skies)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for dragon battles)

- Previous part: the line

- Next part: legacy of fire

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial @l3thal-l0lita @alkadri-layal @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The sky was alight with the fire of dragons, the heavens torn apart by the fury of beasts long thought untouchable by time. The setting sun bathed the battlefield in a deep orange glow, but it was not the sun that filled the air with heat—it was Vhagar’s fire, a monstrous wave of destruction that seared the sky, just missing Valyros by a breath. The young dragon twisted wildly, his golden-streaked scales glinting in the last light of the day, his wings beating furiously as Aemerys struggled to keep control. His sisters clung to him, their small hands fisted into his riding leathers, their terrified cries barely heard over the roar of dragons and the howling wind.

Above them, Vhagar was relentless, her sheer size dominating the sky, her shadow swallowing the land below. Aemond sat tall in her saddle, his single eye gleaming like amethyst in the firelight, his lips curled in grim determination. He was a warrior, a dragonlord, and a man who had known war since boyhood. He would not relent. He would not let them escape. The prince pulled at the reins, guiding Vhagar into another dive, her jagged wings slicing through the air, her great maw opening once more as she prepared to unleash another torrent of fire that could consume Valyros whole.

But before she could strike, another force slammed into her side, knocking her violently off course.

The sky shuddered with the impact, the world tilting in chaos as Silverwing crashed into Vhagar, talons raking into ancient scales, teeth snapping at the hardened hide of the great war dragon. Vhagar let out a thunderous, furious shriek, her massive body twisting mid-air, her tail lashing dangerously through the sky. You held tight to the reins, every muscle in your body straining as Silverwing fought against the force of her much larger opponent. The silver dragon was swift, her movements honed by centuries of flight, but Vhagar was strong, old, and filled with fury.

The moment of impact sent Aemerys and his sisters lurching in their saddles, their dragon veering sharply away to avoid being caught in the melee. Aemerys' voice rose over the wind, startled and desperate, his call piercing through the chaos. "Mother!" His cry was raw with disbelief, as if he had not dared to hope you would come, but you had. You had felt his fear through the bond, through the unbreakable connection between mother and child, and nothing in this world would have stopped you from reaching him.

Vhagar was momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected attack, her massive head jerking to the side as Silverwing clung to her with claws buried deep into thick scales. But Aemond was quick to react, yanking the reins, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Dracarys!” he commanded, and Vhagar obeyed without hesitation.

A blast of flame erupted from the beast’s throat, the heat scorching the sky, but Silverwing had already twisted away, her speed saving her from the worst of it. The ancient silver dragon was a creature of grace, built for agility rather than brute strength, and you guided her into a sharp roll, avoiding another vicious snap of Vhagar’s fangs. The air itself felt charged with rage, the clash of dragons sending shockwaves across the battlefield in the sky.

Aemerys had not hesitated once his mother entered the fray. His heart thundered in his chest, but his grip remained firm, his instincts sharper than ever. "Valyros! Strike now!" he called, and his dragon answered without fear, a silver-gold blur darting toward Vhagar’s unguarded side. The young dragon was fast, so much faster than Aemond’s great beast, and his claws raked across the old dragon’s flank, drawing fresh blood that dripped like molten rubies from the sky.

Vhagar’s screech was deafening, a sound of rage, of pain, of battle, and her massive wings flapped wildly, trying to throw off both attackers. You saw Aemond’s posture shift, his grip tightening, his anger radiating through the very air. “You should have stayed in your keep, sister,” he spat, his voice sharp as a dagger even from across the battlefield.

Your jaw clenched, your own grip on the reins never wavering. “So you could kill my children?” Your voice rang clear over the roar of dragons, a mother’s fury woven into every syllable. "You will not touch them, Aemond!"

But Aemond was not a boy playing at war—he was a warrior, a killer, and he would not falter. He pulled hard at the reins, and Vhagar roared once more, her great wings lifting her higher, forcing you and Silverwing to follow. The higher they went, the thinner the air became, the colder it turned, but Silverwing was used to such heights—Vhagar, too. The two dragons twisted and clashed in the fading sunlight, their bodies circling, striking, dodging, roaring.

Aemerys was still there, hovering below with his sisters, waiting for the next move, knowing they could not escape while Vhagar remained in pursuit. He wanted to fight, but this was not a battle to win—only to survive. You knew this too.

You tightened your grip. This had to end.

"Valyros!" you called, your voice carrying through the wind. "Aemerys, take your sisters and fly—now!"

Aemerys’ heart lurched at the command, but he did not argue. He saw the chance, the narrow window of escape his mother had carved for him. "Hold on!" he barked to his sisters, his body leaning forward. "Valyros—go!"

The young dragon obeyed, diving hard and fast, wings tucking in as he sped toward the treetops below. Vhagar roared in protest, her massive form jerking to pursue, but you would not allow it. You did the only thing you could.

You steered Silverwing directly into Vhagar’s path, blocking her, forcing Aemond to choose—

Follow the boy, or face you.

Aemond’s face twisted into a snarl, his lips curling as he made his choice.

He pulled hard at the reins, Vhagar banking sharply, focusing on you instead of your fleeing children.

It worked.

The moment of hesitation was all Aemerys needed—Valyros disappeared into the distance, his sisters safe upon his back, their small forms fading into the horizon as Vhagar let out a frustrated roar.

And then, you pulled away.

Silverwing’s wings snapped wide, her body twisting through the sky, breaking free of the battle before Vhagar could sink her teeth into her flesh. The battle was done—the only thing that mattered was that your children were safe.

Vhagar let out one last, furious roar, but you did not look back.

The only sound you focused on was the rushing wind, the pounding of your heart, and the thought that your children have survived.

The wind ripped past Aemerys' face, the cold bite of the high air cutting through his leathers as Valyros sped toward the ground, the dragon’s wings straining from the furious pace. His sisters clung to him, their small hands fisted into his tunic, trembling with the aftershock of what had transpired in the skies above. Rhaelya sobbed into his shoulder, her usually fearless voice reduced to shaky gasps, while Alysera’s arms remained locked around his waist in an iron grip, her face buried against his back.

"Hold on," Aemerys muttered, more to himself than them, his grip tightening on the reins as Valyros dove hard. His heart hammered like a war drum, every beat a reminder that their mother was still up there, facing Vhagar alone. The thought twisted something deep inside him, but he couldn't turn back—she had commanded him to flee.

He forced his gaze downward, through the thick rush of wind, and his stomach lurched at the sight below.

A river of Lannister men thundered across the valley, banners snapping wildly in the wind, their steel glinting in the last light of the sun. At the head of them rode Jason Lannister, his crimson cloak billowing behind him, his face set in grim determination, his golden hair gleaming like a lion’s mane.

For the first time since the battle began, Aemerys allowed himself to breathe.

His father was here.

"Valyros, now!" he ordered, guiding his dragon into a sharp descent. The young beast let out a deep-throated rumble, his wings folding inward as he hurtled toward the earth, sending ripples of dust and dirt into the air as his claws met the ground.

Jason saw him the moment he began his descent.

"Hold!" Jason commanded his men, yanking hard on the reins of his warhorse, pulling it to an abrupt halt as Valyros landed before them. The soldiers behind him slowed, their formation staggering at the sight of the great silver-gold beast, its nostrils flaring, its tail whipping against the ground as it settled protectively around the children it carried.

Jason swung down from his saddle instantly, his heart thundering, relief and fury warring within him.

The moment Aemerys dismounted, Jason seized him by the shoulders, his grip firm, grounding, his voice a growl of mixed emotions. "What in the seven hells were you thinking?!"

Aemerys barely had time to breathe before Jason gave him a firm shake, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made his son flinch.

"Flying off without a word? Taking your sisters into the sky against Vhagar?! Do you know what could have happened?! Do you understand the risk you took?"

Aemerys gritted his teeth, anger flickering in his own eyes, but it was not anger at his father—it was at himself.

"I—I had to ride," he said, his voice raw, shaking. "There was something happening near the border, I thought—I didn’t think—"

"No, you did not think!" Jason snapped, his hands tightening for a brief moment before he forced himself to release him, to take a step back before his fury consumed him whole.

The boy was safe.

That was what mattered.

Jason exhaled, his body tense with the weight of too many emotions all at once. His hands shook, but not with rage—with the sheer overwhelming relief of seeing his children alive.

Then, his gaze shifted.

He spotted his daughters, both still perched in the saddle, wide-eyed and pale, their small bodies shaking.

"Girls." His voice softened instantly, the warmth of a father overtaking the fury of a lord.

"Father!"

The moment Rhaelya heard his voice, she let go of Aemerys and all but flung herself from the saddle, her sobs escaping in full force as she threw herself into Jason’s arms.

Jason caught her immediately, his hand cradling the back of her head, his other arm wrapping securely around her as she sobbed into his chest.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, pressing a firm kiss to her golden curls, his grip never faltering. "I’ve got you, sweet girl."

Alysera, still silent, remained frozen in the saddle, her wide lilac eyes staring blankly at nothing, her fingers curled so tightly into the leather that her knuckles had turned white.

Jason reached for her next, lifting her gently from Valyros’ back, his touch softer now, more careful, more patient. "Come here, little lioness," he said, his voice low and reassuring.

She didn’t speak—not until her forehead was pressed against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"I—I thought we were going to fall," she whispered against him, her voice small, fragile.

Jason closed his eyes, pressing another kiss into her hair.

"Not today," he whispered back. "Not today, my love."

For a moment, all was still.

And then—

"Where is your mother?"

Jason’s eyes lifted to Aemerys once more, his voice low but demanding.

Aemerys stiffened.

The boy’s jaw locked, his shoulders tensing, his hands clenching at his sides.

Jason felt the shift in the air—the cold rush of fear returning in full force, twisting inside his gut like a knife.

He took a step forward, his hands still resting protectively on his daughters, but his focus now locked onto his eldest son. "Aemerys, where is your mother?"

Aemerys swallowed hard, his voice coming out hoarse, uneven. "She… she stayed behind."

Jason stilled.

"She what?"

The weight of those words pressed against his ribs like iron, suffocating, crushing.

Aemerys met his gaze then, and Jason saw it—the raw panic, the helplessness, the desperation.

"She stayed to hold off Aemond," Aemerys whispered. "She… she told me to take the girls and go."

Jason’s heart stopped.

His breath caught, his vision narrowing, the world tilting violently around him.

No.

No, no, no.

His hands clenched into fists, his teeth grinding together as the weight of reality hit him all at once.

She had stayed to fight. Stayed to protect their children. Stayed to face the largest, deadliest dragon in the world alone.

His mind screamed.

Jason’s hands trembled.

And before anyone could stop him, before anyone could say another word—

"Ride. Now!"

Jason turned abruptly to his men, his voice thunderous with command.

The sky was alight with war, filled with the roars of dragons and the howling of the wind as the chase pressed on, a deadly dance of fire and fury across the heavens. You could feel Silverwing's heart pounding beneath you, her great muscles flexing as she cut through the air with powerful strokes of her wings. Vhagar was relentless behind you, her shadow swallowing the sky, her massive form blotting out the dying sunlight like an omen of doom.

You had spent years riding Silverwing, learning the way she moved, the way she breathed, the way she felt the air shifting beneath her wings. But never had you flown like this—never had you been forced into a battle where the only way to survive was to keep moving, to keep running, to stay ahead of the great beast that hunted you.

And Vhagar was hunting.

Aemond was relentless.

"Run as fast as you like, sister!" Aemond’s voice rang out across the sky, sharp as a blade, the cruel edge of amusement laced with cold fury. "There is no escaping me!"

You clenched your jaw, pulling hard on Silverwing’s reins, urging her forward, higher, faster. The wind ripped at your hair, your body pressed tightly against the saddle as you rode low, feeling the raw speed of your dragon beneath you.

"Did you think you could steal away my prey?" Aemond snarled, and you knew he meant Aemerys and your daughters. "Did you think I wouldn’t come for you?"

You did not answer, your focus entirely on the air ahead, on the shifting currents, on the world spinning wildly below you as you climbed higher and higher.

But Aemond was not finished.

"Aegon will be pleased to have you back, no matter the state I return you in!" he called, his voice thick with malice. "Even broken from a fall, you’ll serve him well enough!"

You had heard enough.

A chill ran through you, not from fear, but from pure fury.

"Silverwing!" you called, your voice carrying through the wind.

Your dragon responded instantly, her body twisting in the air, pulling into a sudden, bone-snapping turn that sent you careening to the side, forcing Vhagar to lurch mid-flight to keep up. The old beast was powerful, monstrous in size, but she was not as quick, not as nimble. Silverwing had the advantage of speed.

And so you struck. "Now!"

Silverwing dove without hesitation, wings folding as she plummeted, gaining momentum, her body turning in a spiral of silver scales and flashing talons.

Vhagar was not fast enough to react.

Silverwing slammed into her side with the force of a falling star, claws raking deep into Vhagar’s ancient hide, teeth snapping toward her throat, aiming for the soft flesh beneath the heavy plates of scales.

The impact sent a shockwave through the sky, the great she-dragons tangling together mid-air, wings flailing, tails lashing, their roars shaking the world.

You gritted your teeth, gripping the saddle as tightly as you could as Vhagar tried to shake Silverwing loose, her massive body twisting, bucking, jerking wildly. The force of it nearly ripped you from your seat, but you held on, feeling the raw, unrelenting rage in Silverwing’s movements as she fought to hold her ground.

Aemond was furious now, his shouts lost in the chaos as Vhagar twisted violently, finally breaking free of Silverwing’s grasp. The moment she did, Aemond yanked hard on the reins, pulling her around, preparing to attack once more.

But before he could—

The sky split apart with a sound unlike anything you had ever heard.

A sound of rage. Of vengeance.

A sound of another dragon.

A piercing, ear-splitting scream ripped through the heavens—high and sharp, a cry of pure fury and raw power.

Vhagar hesitated.

Aemond’s head snapped to the side—

And then, like a crimson nightmare, Caraxes emerged from the clouds.

The Blood Wyrm fell upon Vhagar like death incarnate, his elongated, sinewy body twisting through the air, his mouth opening wide to let out another haunting shriek, his wings spread like a shadow of war.

Daemon was upon them.

The sight of him, the realization that this was no longer a one-sided battle, sent a new wave of rage through Aemond, his voice cracking through the sky like a whip. "No!"

He had been so close.

His anger was palpable, his grip tightening on the reins as he wheeled Vhagar around, trying to regain control of the battle.

But it was too late.

Caraxes lunged forward, his talons sinking into Vhagar’s back, his fanged maw snapping viciously at her wings, his weight pressing her downward as he forced her into a sharp dive.

Silverwing hovered at your command, circling above the carnage, watching.

This was no longer your fight. This was Daemon’s.

And he was going to make Aemond pay.

Vhagar thrashed, her monstrous wings beating furiously, her ancient strength refusing to bow to even the most ferocious of opponents. But Caraxes was fast, his snake-like body twisting around her, his talons locking into her flesh, his powerful wings pushing her down, down, down.

Aemond was still fighting, still trying to break free, trying to turn the tide back in his favor.

But for the first time, you felt something in his stance—something that had not been there before.

Fear.

He had never feared anything before. But now, he was afraid. And he should be. Because Daemon was smiling.

Even from a distance, even through the chaos of war, you could see it in your mind—the glint of dark amusement, the thrill of the kill, the satisfaction of knowing that for the first time Aemond was on the backfoot.

And the prince knew it too.

He would not win this fight.

Not against both of you.

Not against two dragons.

Not against Daemon.

Aemond let out a furious, frustrated roar, yanking hard on Vhagar’s reins, forcing the massive beast to break away, to retreat.

And he knew it.

The battle was over.

Not because you had killed him, but because he had lost.

With a final, furious glare, Aemond turned his dragon toward the east, her massive form disappearing into the clouds, vanishing into the distant sky.

You sighed, body still taut with battle, with rage, with adrenaline.

Silverwing hovered beside Caraxes, their great wings beating against the wind, their scales shining in the light of the dying sun.

And then, finally—Daemon turned toward you, his voice steady, but amused.

"Little star," he called. "Are you hurt?"

You let out a breath again, your hands steadying on the reins, your heart still hammering.

"No," you answered, your voice firm, but hoarse from the fight.

Daemon hummed, tilting his head as Caraxes let out a low, guttural growl of satisfaction.

"Good," Daemon murmured. "Then let's get you home."

The battlefield stretched out before them, a land of rolling hills and golden fields now shadowed by the storm of dragons waging war above. Jason sat rigid in his saddle, his golden hair damp from sweat, his jaw locked tight as he watched the battle unfold in the heavens, his heart pounding like a hammer against his ribs. Around him, his men sat motionless, their gazes lifted to the sky, their swords forgotten in their sheaths, their warhorses restless beneath them, feeling the tension in the air. The roars of dragons echoed like thunder, rattling the very bones of the men below.

But none were as restless as Jason’s children.

Aemerys stood beside Valyros, his dragon perched on the crest of the nearby hill, tail lashing, wings flexing, the young beast’s eyes locked onto the war in the sky. Aemerys’ hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white, his body trembling—not with fear, but with helpless rage. He had never felt so small, so powerless, watching his mother locked in battle with the largest dragon in the world, knowing there was nothing he could do to help.

His sisters, Rhaelya and Alysera, stood close together, their small hands gripping each other, their eyes wide with worry. Alysera let out a soft, shaky breath, the wind catching in her curls as she whispered, "Will she win?"

Rhaelya did not answer. She didn’t know. None of them did.

Jason gritted his teeth, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to watch even as every fiber of his being screamed for him to mount his horse and ride straight into the firestorm if it meant reaching her. But there was no reaching her.

Not while Vhagar was still in the sky.

Then—

A piercing shriek split the air, different from the others, a sound more serpentine, more ruthless.

Jason’s eyes snapped upward—

And then he saw it.

A streak of red, cutting through the golden clouds like a shadow of war.

Jason’s heart stopped.

Caraxes. Daemon had come.

The battle shifted in an instant. The great Blood Wyrm tore through the sky like a blade, his elongated body twisting, his claws outstretched as he fell upon Vhagar with fury unmatched. From the ground, Jason could see Aemond yank hard on his reins, struggling to regain control, struggling to command the ancient war dragon beneath him. But it was too late.

Silverwing and Caraxes attacked together, a storm of silver and crimson, weaving through the air with deadly precision. Jason could see the shape of his wife, still mounted, still fighting, refusing to fall, her hair a pale banner against the twilight sky as she guided Silverwing into another deadly arc.

The battle had turned.

And Aemond knew it.

Jason saw it—the shift in his posture, the rigid set of his shoulders, the way Vhagar reared back in frustration, beaten but not broken, bloodied but still strong. But the battle was over. Aemond pulled harshly at the reins, jerking Vhagar into a sharp turn, her massive wings beating as she retreated, fleeing eastward, her great shadow shrinking into the horizon.

For a moment, everything was still.

And then—

The sky broke apart once more, but this time, not with battle—

With victory.

Silverwing and Caraxes banked sharply, their great forms twisting as they turned toward the waiting Lannister army below. The roars of dragons no longer carried the sound of war, but of triumph.

Jason exhaled, long and slow, his hands gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles ached. He barely noticed the way his men around him let out their breaths, how some even cheered in stunned relief.

His focus was only on the sky.

He watched as the two dragons descended, their mighty wings beating against the wind, stirring the earth as they came lower and lower. The ground trembled beneath their landing, a great gust of wind kicking up dust and scattering dry leaves as Silverwing’s claws struck the earth first, followed by Caraxes, his elongated body curling into a tight coil, his wings folding against his crimson hide.

Jason was already off his horse before Silverwing fully settled, his feet hitting the ground hard as his gaze locked onto you.

You had barely slipped from the saddle before Jason was upon you.

He did not wait. He did not hesitate.

His hands grasped your arms, his touch firm, grounding, as if he needed to feel you, to know you were real, to know that you were here. His green eyes, usually filled with pride and confidence, were now shining with raw emotion, with relief, with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

And then, before you could speak—

He pulled you into him.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you against his chest, his breath warm against your hair. His hold was not gentle, not light—it was desperate, unyielding, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you would vanish into the wind.

"You reckless woman," he muttered, his voice hoarse, thick with something dangerously close to a sob. "You—" He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, his fingers curling against your back. "Don’t you ever do that again."

Your breath hitched, your hands coming to grasp the front of his tunic, your body still thrumming with the remnants of battle, of adrenaline, of fury. But here, in his arms, you could finally feel the weight of it all settling into your bones.

"I had to," you whispered. "They were going to kill Aemerys, Jason. They were going to take our daughters—"

His grip tightened at your words, his breath shuddering, his jaw clenching. "I know," he whispered back, his voice lower now, rougher, his lips brushing against your temple. "I know, my love."

And then, before you could say another word—

He kissed you.

It was not gentle. It was fierce, consuming, a collision of relief and anger and desperation, his hands cupping your face, his lips pressing against yours with a force that left no room for hesitation, for doubt, for anything other than the raw, aching truth of it all.

You were alive. You had come back to him.

The sound of your children stirring behind you, their soft, stifled cries of relief, was the only thing that made Jason finally pull away.

He turned his head slowly, his arms still holding you close, his gaze locking onto the other man standing beside you.

Daemon stood just beyond Caraxes, watching the scene with his usual smirk, though there was something sharper behind his gaze, something unreadable. He rolled his shoulders lazily, as if the battle in the sky had been nothing more than a sport to him.

Jason’s grip on you loosened only slightly as he finally turned his full attention to your uncle, his expression shifting.

The moment of reunion was over.

Now—

Now there were things to be said.

The silence that stretched between Jason and Daemon was thick with years of unresolved tension, a gulf that had only grown wider since their last, heated confrontation two years prior. The last time they had stood face to face, Daemon had been a guest at Casterly Rock, urging Jason to raise his banners for Rhaenyra before the storm came, warning him that when war arrived, there would be no remaining neutral. Jason had refused him then, and he would refuse him now.

But Daemon had saved his wife. For that alone, Jason owed him acknowledgment, if nothing else.

With his arm still resting securely around you, Jason turned to face Daemon fully, his green eyes focused, his expression stone-cold despite the lingering heat of relief still coursing through his veins.

"I owe you my thanks, Prince Daemon," Jason said at last, his voice even, measured, though laced with something unspoken. Reluctance. Distrust. Wariness. "Had you not come, my wife might have fallen this day."

Daemon tilted his head slightly, as if studying Jason, as if weighing how much his words were truly worth. "Indeed," he murmured, his voice silken, yet edged with something Jason couldn’t place just yet.

Jason knew this game.

Daemon had not come simply to save his niece. He had come because he wanted something.

Jason narrowed his gaze. "And I suppose you didn’t fly all this way just for the pleasure of seeing me again," he said, voice dry. "So tell me, Daemon—what is it that you want?"

Daemon's smirk curled at the edges, more wolf than dragon, as his dark violet eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to Jason.

"What I want?" Daemon mused, tapping his fingers idly against the pommel of Dark Sister. "I would think that would be obvious, my lord." He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his stance casual, but his presence suffocating. "It is time for the West to decide where it stands." His voice was quiet but unyielding, like the distant rumble of a storm yet to break.

Jason felt his blood heat, his grip on you tightening instinctively.

"You mean to say," Jason said slowly, "that you have come once again to demand I raise my banners for your wife?"

Daemon’s smirk remained, but there was no amusement in his gaze now. "I would not call it a demand," he replied. "A request, perhaps. A necessary one." He gestured up toward the sky, where Aemond had fled just moments ago. "Or do you need further proof of where your enemies stand?"

Jason exhaled harshly through his nose, the sharp edge of his temper beginning to rise once more.

"And what of my enemies?" Jason countered, his voice cool, measured, but laced with iron beneath. "Should I take up arms for Rhaenyra and add fuel to a war that should never have come to pass?" He took a step forward, standing firmly between you and Daemon now, his expression hard as steel. "Tell me, Daemon—do you hold no fault for what has come to pass? Does Rhaenyra hold no fault?"

Daemon’s jaw ticked.

Jason saw it—the briefest flash of something in his gaze, the smallest flicker of something unspoken, something that Daemon Targaryen would never admit aloud.

A silent acknowledgment.

Jason pressed on.

"You would have me fight for a cause that has already been lost in part," Jason said, voice lower now, more dangerous, each word carefully measured. "You would have me throw my men into a war that serves neither my house nor my people. A war that will leave nothing but ashes behind it." His eyes burned, his next words quiet, but unyielding. "I will not."

Daemon’s lips pressed into a thin line, the amusement that so often danced behind his eyes now completely gone.

"And what will you do, Jason?" Daemon asked, his tone no longer laced with mockery or provocation, but something else. Something unreadable. "Will you stand idle as war sweeps across the realm?" He gestured toward your children, who were still standing a ways off, watching with cautious, wary eyes. "Will you tell them, years from now, that you did nothing? That you let the Seven Kingdoms bleed around you while you stood aside?"

Jason’s eyes darkened.

"I will not stand idle, nor will I kneel. The West will stand for itself and defend itself against this madness." His voice was strong, final, unyielding, each word spoken with the weight of a man who had made up his mind. "And should anyone—anyone—come for my family again, there will be a reckoning."

Daemon’s expression remained unreadable, his gaze flicking briefly toward you before settling once more on Jason.

But Jason knew that he was not finished.

"Y/N," Daemon said then, his tone softer, an attempt at something almost affectionate. "You know what Rhaenyra is fighting for. You know what Aegon is."

Jason’s temper flared. Daemon was trying to reason with you. Trying to turn his wife against him.

Jason’s body went taut, his breath quick, his patience now hanging by a thread.

Jason saw red.

Daemon lifted a hand, as if to touch you, as if to offer some sign of kinship, of comfort—

"Enough," Jason snapped, stepping sharply in front of you, blocking Daemon’s reach entirely, his voice no longer measured but seething. "You will not speak to her about where we should stand, nor will you attempt to sway her against me."

Daemon lifted a brow, clearly amused at Jason’s possessive reaction, but Jason did not let his temper slip further.

Instead, he turned his head, leveling Daemon with a cold, final stare. "You have worn out your welcome, Prince Daemon. I will see you off my lands."

Daemon’s smirk returned, but it was thin, laced with something displeased, frustrated.

But he did not fight the words.

He simply let out a long, slow breath, rolling his shoulders lazily before tilting his head. "Very well," Daemon murmured.

His gaze flicked once more to you, and Jason felt his hands curl into fists.

Daemon’s voice was almost teasing when he spoke next, though Jason could see the way his jaw was still tense, still displeased. "Until we meet again, little star."

Jason did not wait for him to turn away—he grabbed your hand firmly in his own, his grip strong, grounding, his gaze burning as Daemon finally strode back toward Caraxes.

And as Jason watched the dragon take flight, his lips curled into a quiet, biting whisper: "Let us hope we never do."

The moment Daemon’s crimson beast disappeared over the horizon, the war in the sky truly ended, but the turmoil on the ground was far from over. Jason watched as you dropped to your knees, arms open, waiting, and in the next instant, your children were upon you.

Aemerys reached you first, his arms wrapping around your shoulders so tightly it was as if he feared you would vanish if he let go. His breath was ragged, his body trembling, his face buried against your neck.

"You scared me," he whispered against your shoulder, his voice thick, shaking with everything he had just witnessed.

Before you could answer, Rhaelya and Alysera threw themselves into your embrace, their small arms locking around your waist, their tiny fingers grasping at your gown as if to anchor themselves.

"Mother," Alysera whimpered, her breath coming in short, hitched gasps, and you felt her small body trembling against you.

Rhaelya said nothing, but you could feel her silent sobs, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face against your chest.

You held them all tightly, cradling them, feeling their warmth, their life, their beating hearts pressing against yours.

"Shh, my darlings," you whispered, voice thick but steady, running a soothing hand through Aemerys’ silver-gold curls, pressing your cheek against his temple. "I’m here. I’m safe. It’s over now."

Jason stood a few paces away, his green eyes locked on you and the children, his expression unreadable. He had never been a man given to overwhelming displays of sentiment in public, but at this moment, even he looked shaken, as if the weight of the day was finally pressing down upon him.

His gaze flicked back toward the sky, toward the rapidly fading form of Caraxes as Daemon flew eastward, leaving behind nothing but the embers of his presence. Jason’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides.

The dragonlord was gone. For now.

A shift in movement to his left caught Jason’s attention. His general approached—Ser Ronart Westerling, a hardened commander of the Westerlands army, his dark eyes shadowed with concern.

"My lord," Ronart began, voice deep, his gaze still locked on the horizon where Vhagar had vanished, where Daemon had departed. "The Targaryens may have settled their quarrels for today, but we still have unfinished matters of our own."

Jason turned his gaze toward his general, nodding, refocusing his thoughts.

"House Reyne," Jason muttered, the name falling from his lips like a curse. His eyes burned with new resolve as he shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders, as if shedding the weight of what had just transpired.

Ronart gave a short nod. "Yes, my lord. Their men were gathered in numbers too large for simple border patrols. This was a provocation—an open act of defiance against you."

Jason’s expression darkened, his features sharp as steel.

"Then we ride to Castamere," Jason declared, his voice unwavering, absolute. "Lord Allard will answer for this. He will hand over every man responsible for this treason—every knight, every foot soldier, every commander who raised arms without my command."

Ronart's expression did not change, but there was a glint of approval in his gaze. "And what shall be done with them, my lord?"

Jason did not answer immediately.

Instead, his gaze shifted—not toward the army, nor toward his gathered knights, but toward the distant hill where Valyros sat, wings half-spread, golden-silver scales catching the afternoon light like molten steel.

Jason’s son’s dragon had been born in the shadow of a crib. Perhaps it was only fitting that he would take his first true flight in fire and blood.

Jason turned back to Ronart, his decision final. "We burn them."

Ronart did not flinch. He had fought under Jason Lannister long enough to know that when his lord spoke like this, there was no room for argument, no space for mercy.

He simply inclined his head, silent acceptance.

Jason turned away then, walking toward you, toward his children, his eyes now set with something unyielding, something resolute.

The war had not yet reached the West. But Jason Lannister would not wait for it to come to his doorstep.

If war was inevitable, then let it be on his terms.

And let it begin with fire.

[clare-875]

Until the End (Levi x Reader)- Prologue

_____ A/N: Posted on Wattpad (@CLARE_875) but also decided to post here :)

Summary: "You can push me away, but I will still fight by you, and I will still follow you… until the end."

The ever-so-stoic Levi Ackerman has only ever known the terrors that living in a cruel world could bring. This all changed one fateful day when he encountered [y/n]; a girl renowned for her looks and abnormal speed. As they escape the confines of the Underground together, they soon discover that freedom doesn't come easy in a world full of Titans. As they rise through the ranks, [y/n] becomes known as "Humanity's Angel", a beacon of hope to humanity as she melts the walls Levi had built around his heart. However, she has her secrets too, and a dark past that might just threaten to pull them apart.

The storyline and characters of Attack on Titan do NOT belong to me, but all to Hajime Isayama; however, I do own this story, and all that occurs disparate to that storyline.

[Series Masterlist] [-> Chapter One] _____

Warnings: Some descriptions of sexual harassment and abuse, blood, violence

Everything was cold. Everything hurt. But you could hear a heartbeat clouding over the deranged sound of the wind, giving you warmth. "I'm sorry [y/n], I'm so sorry." As you clung to the figure that had you wrapped in their arms, you felt the coolness of the air that latched onto your skin. The taste of salt and an uncontrollable rocking took over, destroying any sense of stability. You could hear shouts from nearby strangers, a hushing voice above you as they ran by. Constant apologies were muttered as you rocked back and forth, and stared into the [e/c] of the woman's eyes.

.....

You look up to the ceiling, hoping to catch a glimpse of the starry sky that you can only imagine lies above the unsettling and revolting place known only as the Underground. This is how it has been for as long as you can remember, yet memories would still flash between the darkness of the day and the night. The smell of salt and pungency, the cruel wind, and a warmth. You removed your gaze from the sight above you and looked to the stairs cascading down from the only way out of this place. But there was no use. To get out meant money, and getting out meant having to live, yet living up there in poverty seemed just as cruel as living down here in disparity. You felt the coolness of the breeze move mercilessly against your skin as you lay clad in stolen clothes on the roof of an abandoned dump of a home. It had been your refuge ever since you escaped an orphanage at the age of 5. If you could call it an orphanage. Constant abuse and shouting were all you remember of that place. You can only imagine what warmth feels like, what freedom feels like. The freedom to eat till your heart's content, sleep without worry and run without someone chasing behind you.

Hearing the all-too-familiar sound of your hunger raking through your stomach, you stand up and get ready to fight for another day. Your small, malnourished form may seem weak to others, but your time in the Underground has taught you to be tough. Your body may seem small, but you were agile and fast, so much so that you would often be able to take a loaf of bread with the only trace of your being there, the breath of the wind. Though the Underground was depressing and miserable - many people concerned with their own lives - you were not invisible in this place. Your beauty often caught people off guard, but the unusual way your visual traits stood out in this dark place caused problems in their own way. Men covered in filth and grime, old and battered with age and trial, often corner you, perverted intentions in their hope to overpower you. It was one of the many issues you had whilst in that orphanage. Your speed, however, made up for your lack of strength as the momentum helped you retch free from their filthy grasps again and again. Today was no different.

Succeeding in taking half a loaf of bread and a handful of apples with ease, you shove them into your makeshift bag and prepare to sprint. However, after barely three steps, you feel yourself get dragged into the darkness of an alleyway and away from the business of the open streets. As your vision consorts back to normal, you look up, only to see four men taunting you with the worst intentions brimming in their eyes, the only spark being lust over their lifeless, filthy forms.

"Well, well, well, lookie here, boys, it seems we caught the gem of the pack," a man unusually muscular and large in such a food-deprived place towered over you, seemingly the leader of this pathetic gang.

You tried to keep your cool. You had gotten away from worse before; it would be alright. Two more men rounded the corner, grinning as they emerged. You scoffed in realisation and disgust but felt an unfamiliar chill rip through your spine. This seemed worse. "Imagine the price we'd be paid to have you bought after we're done with you ourselves, of course." The man moved close to your face, hand tight on your wrist. The crowded stench of alcohol and grime suffocated you, but before you could wretch free from their grasp and sprint away, the grasp on your wrist loosened, and when you looked up, the man, taunting you just seconds before, had fallen.

He was dead.

Suddenly, the tension in the air changed as eyes filled with lust turned to confusion and then anger. Shouting ensued as the men sought the source of the stone now ingrained in the head of the man who led their disgusting activities, but as their grasp left you to pursue someone else, you found yourself unable to do anything. Despite living in this barren place where death was as usual as each breath you took, you had never had it done so swiftly and in front of you. But before you could dwell on the fragility of life much longer, you heard a slam and a groan beside you. There was a boy who seemed only a few years older than you, and he had 2 grown men on the floor, bleeding and beaten. He continued fighting ruthlessly, and despite the mounds of death that surrounded you, your gaze did not falter at the way he fought. The way he looked at them.

Two more men were on the ground before you could even blink, red smearing their chests as the boy's knife was now stained with blood. He didn't hesitate. He didn't even blink. Then, as he took on the final man, you noticed a glint of silver in the corner of your eye. One of the men, already on the floor, desperately grasped his wound with one hand, and in the other, a gun aimed at the boy, still distracted as the final man refused to fall.

A second passed. Then, two gunshots. Then a moment.

The boy stared at you, a brief look of shock in his dull eyes. The final man he had been fighting fell limp to the floor along with the man in front of you, his gun lying useless on the floor before him. The next moment felt long and thick as you realised you had actually killed two men. Two disgusting, filthy, corrupt men. But living men nonetheless.

"You killed," the boy spoke, breaking the silence.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you scoffed, staring at the gun you had stolen from another dead man in the moment. The gun you had shot two men with. "So did you." you looked up and met his eyes. As they narrowed, he turned to walk away, but you decided you were not done with this situation. You had questions and you wanted them answered. "Wait," you spoke, voice wavering despite yourself. "Why... why did you come here? Why did you kill them?" You half expected him to ignore you and walk off, but to your surprise, he turned and looked straight at you.

Moments passed before he replied. "My mother," he hesitated, but looking into your eyes, he continued, "I just didn't want you to have the same fate she did down in this goddam place." With that, he continued on his way. "Wait," you stopped him, voice firmer now. "Tch," he turned, but his eyes went from annoyed to surprised in an instant as he caught an apple you had thrown him. This time, you hesitated. "Thank you," You muttered, giving him a smile. His eyes widened slightly; this was the first time anyone apart from his mother had shown him a shred of kindness in this place.

"Levi."

"What?" you asked, confused at the randomness of the word. "My name, it's Levi," he muttered. Your eyes widened. I must have really seemed shaken for him to sympathise with me, you wonder as you figured he seemed someone closed off and invulnerable. "My name is [Y/N]," you smiled, "Thank you, Levi." He said nothing and walked off, but at least he didn't refuse your tribute. You decided that this time, you would sprint straight away to avoid any more unwanted attention, never thinking you would see him again.

.....

As time passed, you were surprised by how often you saw his face, seemingly more so in the middle of fights on the streets or stealing food. It seemed he was just as noticed in this place as you were, hearing flickers of his name uttered in the streets, followed by curses and threats. He started to notice your name being spoken in the streets too, either filthy men upon your beauty or vendors' irritation on your speed.

As you both heard the other's name uttered more often, you also bumped into each other more often. When, at first, each meeting was only a brief look of recognition, it was followed by brief greetings, then conversations (more from your end) as you found yourself intrigued by the man who had saved you with his underlying strength. He also found you curious, though he would rather die than admit it, intrigued by your strengths and your story. Soon, you both found the walls you had built around yourselves after years of grief and turmoil gradually breaking as your unlikely acquaintance turned into companionship which turned to friendship.

As years passed, you both shared multitudes of conversations, he taught you how to clean properly, you brewed tea, and you both supported each other. You would find yourselves sharing the same spaces, sharing the snippets of your past you have never shared, him surprising you with brief stories of his own. Of his mother, who had died many years ago, and of his prior caretaker, Kenny, who had abandoned him a year before. Your friendship grew with your trust, and you found yourself surrounded by the feeling of warmth, something you lacked for most of your lifetime, all thanks to Levi. Even as people you came to meet left you, even when people joined the both of you. The reassuring gestures, the way he had your back, the way he spoke about how he was "gonna get out of this shitty place." Levi gave you hope that maybe you'd find freedom with him.

_____

[-> Chapter One]

[luvashli]

02 -> THE CHASE

Synopsis -> Y/N, a daring motorcycle racer, catches the attention of seven competitive car racers called ENHYPEN. Driven by lust and rivalry, the boys chase her both on and off the track, but as the tension builds, their obsession with her grows. Will they see her for more than just a prize, or will their dangerous desires consume them?

y/n‘s motorcycle/ Enhypen’s cars

The night was alive, buzzing with the sound of engines. A city built for speed, with streets that knew no mercy. Y/N revved her Ducati, her leather-clad body perched on the bike like a goddess of war, ready to conquer the asphalt. Her dark hair whipped behind her in the wind, her heart racing not with fear, but with the thrill of the chase.

Behind her, the boys followed. They weren’t just racers—they were predators, each one driven by a different instinct. But they were united by one thing: the need to catch her.

Jungwon’s Nissan GT-R R35 roared to life, its midnight blue body gleaming under the city lights. The silver detailing on the sides of the car caught the light like a blade. Jungwon’s focus was sharp, his grip on the wheel steady as he assessed the road ahead. He wasn’t just chasing her for fun; he was calculating, every move, every turn, like a chess game. He would catch her—because he never made mistakes. He was the strategist, the leader, and this chase would be his victory.

Right behind him, Heeseung’s Porsche 911 Turbo S cut through the night with precision, the metallic gray body accented by bold red stripes. Heeseung’s demeanor was calm and composed, his years of experience in the racing world evident in every smooth shift of the gear. He didn’t need to be flashy. He didn’t need to prove anything. He knew that, with enough patience and control, he would eventually close the gap. It wasn’t about being the fastest—it was about being the most consistent.

Jay’s Chevrolet Corvette C8 Stingray was impossible to miss. Its bright yellow body, with black racing stripes, practically screamed for attention. He wasn’t just racing to catch her. No, Jay thrived on the show—the thrill of the crowd’s attention, the dangerous stunts. His foot slammed the pedal, the engine roaring as he weaved through the streets. He’d show off for her, and make sure she noticed. If she wanted to play games, he’d play right back.

Jake’s Ford Mustang Shelby GT500, deep green with white stripes, growled as he slammed the accelerator. The Mustang was a classic, its rumble familiar yet wild. Jake didn’t just race with his car—he raced with his heart. Every turn, every stretch of road was an opportunity for him to push the limits. He wasn’t just a skilled driver; he was adaptable, feeling the rhythm of the race, adjusting as needed. He wasn’t going to back down. He’d do whatever it took to win—and he knew what that meant. Winning wasn’t just about finishing first—it was about claiming her.

Sunghoon’s Audi R8 V10 Plus was an embodiment of elegance and power, its glossy black body with chrome accents catching every light as it streaked through the city. It was sleek and precise, just like Sunghoon. He wasn’t rushing, and he wasn’t wasting energy. He knew how to control every aspect of his race, making sure his movements were calculated and flawless. Perfection was his goal, and no amount of speed or showmanship was going to stop him from achieving it. He’d catch her, but only when it was on his terms.

Sunoo’s Lamborghini Huracán EVO—a pearl white beauty with gold accents—seemed to glide effortlessly along the road, agile and unrestrained. He wasn’t afraid to take risks, but always in control, keeping everyone guessing with his next move. He had the charm of a showman, yet the precision of a perfectionist, effortlessly pulling off moves others wouldn’t dare. He’d catch her, but he’d do it his way—smooth and unexpected.

And then, there was Ni-ki, in his matte black Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat. The glowing orange accents on his car lit up the streets like fire, his engine screaming with power as he pushed the limits. Ni-ki was fearless, aggressive, and unpredictable. He didn’t care about the rules. He didn’t care about control. He wanted to make her notice him. He wanted to feel the rush of her, feel her push back. He’d take any risk, break any rule, just to get closer.

Y/N’s grip tightened on the Ducati’s handlebars as she raced through the streets. She didn’t need to look back to know they were there, following her, hungry for more. The sexual tension between them was undeniable, a force that made the chase feel more like a battle of wills. But she wasn’t just racing them. She was teasing them.

Her eyes flicked to her rearview mirror, catching sight of the headlights closing in on her. She smirked. They weren’t going to make it that easy.

Jungwon was the first to appear in her mirror, his sleek car cutting through the air with precision. She could see his focused gaze, his strategy unfolding in real-time. He wasn’t just trying to catch her—he was calculating the perfect moment. But she wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

Heeseung’s Porsche was a shadow behind the GT-R, moving with a steady rhythm. He wasn’t in a rush. He wasn’t here to show off. But his calm demeanor made her think twice—maybe he was the one who would catch her. His years of experience told him not to rush, not to make any mistakes. He’d wait for her to slip up.

But then, there was Jay. Him just being a flash of yellow as he cut through the streets, his driving as loud and reckless as his personality. He was making moves, daring to take risks. He was showing off. And she could feel the heat from his gaze, the way he pushed the car harder as if trying to make her notice him. He was the showman, and he was playing to win her over in more ways than one.

Jake was close behind, the deep green car roaring as he shifted gears. There was something raw about his driving, something that drew her in. He wasn’t as aggressive as the others—he was smooth, like the car itself, and it wasn’t lost on her. His eyes, however, were filled with a quiet intensity. He wanted her. Not just in a race, but in every other way, too.

Sunghoon’s Audi was almost a ghost in the rearview mirror—sleek, quiet, and focused. He wasn’t rushing, and neither was she. He was watching, waiting for the perfect moment. It was a game of patience. A game he played well.

Sunoo’s driving was agile, moving quickly, but always with a grace that made him stand out. He wasn’t in a hurry, but he was just unpredictable enough to keep her on her toes. His charm was undeniable, but it wasn’t just his smile that made her wary—it was the way he handled his car, the way he could pull off stunts and make them look easy.

And Ni-ki… Ni-ki was chaos. His Hellcat screeched through the night, raw power pushing him forward. He was the wildcard—the one who didn’t care about the rules, the one who would break them just to get a rise out of her. He was all intensity, all fire.

The city became a blur as she weaved through the streets, each turn and lane change a challenge. But she wasn’t alone. They were all there, following her, wanting her.

And she’d lead them on a chase they’d never forget.

The streets started to thin out, the buildings giving way to more open stretches of road. Y/N’s Ducati roared ahead, her body perfectly in sync with the bike, turning her into a blur of adrenaline and grace. She was teasing them, pushing the limits of the race, yet always staying just out of reach.

Suddenly, she saw it—a sharp turn ahead, a corner she knew she could make with ease. The boys were still trailing behind her, but none of them had made a move. She smirked. This was her game.

The Ducati leaned into the curve as she shot through the corner, her body almost becoming one with the machine. She knew they wouldn’t be able to follow her through this tight turn, but the thrill was too great. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she let out a breathless laugh as she pulled away.

In her mirror, she could already see the others starting to take the turn, each of them trying to match her pace. But she wasn’t done yet. The race was far from over. The stakes were high, and she would make sure it stayed that way.

As she shot down the open road again, the lights of the city flashing by, her mind raced—not just with strategy and speed, but with the tension that had been building between her and the boys. The sexual energy between them wasn’t something she could ignore, and she could tell they weren’t just racing for the win. No, they were racing for something much more personal.

Y/N smirked again, daring them to catch up. Tonight, the chase would continue.

She was in control. And she would lead them on until they couldn’t take it anymore.

A low growl rumbled in the distance, followed by a roar. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, recognizing the unmistakable sound of Ni-ki’s Hellcat. He was pushing harder now, his wild nature obvious in every turn, every shift of the gear.

The light from the street lamps glinted off his matte black body as he shot forward, his glowing orange accents illuminating the road. She could almost hear the challenge in his engine’s roar, daring her to push faster.

Y/N grinned.

The boys were starting to get serious. And so was she.

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Masterlist

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[casualaruanienjoyer]

What sports do you see the AoT characters playing? I like to envision Jean as a swimmer or lacrosse player but that's about it

Hello! This is such a fun question, thank you for sending me this!!

What sports would these Aot characters play?

Jean: swimming. His body's perfect for it. Tall, muscular, long arms. He's very fast! But do not, and I repeat, DO NOT make him go on a vertical drop water slide. He will cry.

Armin: he's never been one for sports that involve a lot of... um... physical performance. But oh BOY this man can play golf. He's way too good at calculating trajectories and likes nerding over wind speeds and velocities. Plus, he gets to wear a neat hat.

Annie: Kickboxing. Her agility makes it easy for her to dodge her opponents who often underestimate her size. Plus, she gets to punch people all day long. Sweet!

Mikasa: Gymnastics. There's something about her body that's incredibly graceful. Her movements seem effortless. But she often loses her balance when Eren is around.

Eren: Surfing. Makes him feel free like a bird. Loves disconnecting from his daily life this way. Though, he's been rescued by lifeguards many times. He's not very good.

Pieck: Horse riding. And not just because she's the cart titan! She built an incredible relationship with her horse. Always carries sugar cubes in her pockets.

Connie: Football! His speed and wild card moves makes him incredibly unpredictable for the enemy team. His feet move so fast, no one can keep up.

Sasha: Archery, or course, for obvious reasons. Though she'd also be a great at darts because of her insane precision. As long as Connie doesn't walk in front of the boa- OH SHOOT!

Reiner: Weightlifting. This man is PURE MUSCLE. He can lift you, your mom and your entire sofa in one hand.

Yelena: Fencing. Elegant, refined. Just like her. Though part of her wishes she could actually stab her opponents. You know, just for a bit of harmless fun!

Historia: Rhythmic Gymnastics. Often trains with Mikasa, but while she's more up in the air, Historia's strenght lies in the gentle movements of her ribbons above ground.

Ymir: Skiing. It's fun, relaxing and she enjoys pulling off tricks from time to time. Likes bragging about them to Historia.

Hange: Handball. She has a great leap and throw and her eye for strategy gave her the nickname "the four eyed Demon".

Levi: Sailing, if it can be considered a sport. It's relaxing. Makes him feel content. Means that he can get away from people for as long as he wants to. Who's gonna follow him all the way her- IS THAT FLOCH??

Onyankopon: Canoeing. Why not enjoy some beautiful scenery while we're at it, no?

Falco: Badminton. Has a good eye for the shuttle and seems to be able to always land his hits. Can get easily distracted if playing against Gabi

Gabi: Shooting. BANG! Her aim is fantastic. But she really needs to work on her attitude. Oh no Connie don't walk ther- BANG!!...CONNIE!?

[enehana]

Ares Cabin Headcanons

Ares is actually a really good dad who loves his daughters. He defended his daughter, Alcippe, after she was raped. He would do that for any one of his daughters.

Children of Ares will typically devote themselves to one person, who they would slaughter entire armies and die for.

They're the most passionate campers, besides the Aphrodite cabin.

The Ares cabin gets together with the other children of war gods (Athena, Nemesis, Aphrodite, etc.) to plan full out wars, or maybe just the inevitable zombie apocalypse, etc.

They have terrible nightmares where they essentially live through terrible wars, such as the Trojan war, and die terrible deaths alongside great heroes. A reminder that they were always born to die in battle.

They fight for their dad's attention a lot. While he doesn't particularly want to pay attention to any of them, he'll humor them every once in a while.

Even the smaller children of Ares that were built for agility and speed are incredibly strong powerhouses.

Their fatal flaw tends to be hubris. They're always searching and competing for glory. No matter how small and insignificant it may be, they always want to be the best.

They get along very very well with the Aphrodite cabin. And great with the Nemesis cabin, along with other children of war gods, but not so great with the Athena cabin.

They naturally talk very loudly. They also walk very quickly. Their footsteps are really loud, everyone can tell when a child of Ares is walking their way.

They have a very dark sense of humor. They laugh loudly and deeply, with their whole chest.

[thescarletnargacuga]

AVIATION ENTHUSIAST

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Caine geeks over airplanes, Pomni finds it informative and adorable

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: none

~~~

In the late evening hours, long after the guests had gone for the day, Caine sat at the grand piano backstage. The large wooden cover for the keys was down, as he wasn't planning on playing it tonight. Instead, multiple model WW1 era airplanes sat the length of the piano like it was a runway. Small jars of paint and tiny brushes sat on a messy rag draped over the closed top of the piano.

Caine dipped one of his fine bristled brushes into the red paint to work on the detail of the biplane he held delicately in his hand. Light splotches of paint stained his gloves. He hummed to himself as he worked.

"Keep the home fires burning...while your hearts are yearning..." He finished the fine detail on his freshly painted plane and carefully set it down to let it dry. "Though your lads are far away...they dream of home..." He cleaned off his brush and grabbed a plane that was barren of any paint. With a new, larger brush, he started applying the base coat. "There's a silver lining... through the dark cloud shining..." He was so focused on his work, he didn't see Pomni out of the corner of his eye. "Turn the dark could inside out, till the boys coooome hoooome."

Pomni quietly approached and sat on the piano bench next to Caine. Caine paused what he was doing for half a second, impressed he didn't hear her get close until she was sitting down. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked without looking up.

"I don't really know. Just one of those nights." Pomni sighed, overlooking the display of model aircraft. "You made these?"

"Yep. Built and painted every one of them. Please don't touch, they're delicate."

Pomni put her outstretched hand in her lap bashfully. "I wasn't gonna-"

Caine sent her a strong side eye.

"I wasn't." Pomni reaffirmed with a defiant pout.

Caine didn't fight the small smile her adorable reaction gave him, and went back to focusing on painting the model in his hand.

Pomni kept her hands firmly in her lap as she took close looks at the impressively detailed airplanes. "What's this one?" She pointed to a sleek, steel grey sesquiplane.

Caine only glanced briefly to see which one she was referring to. "The Nieuport 17. One of the most agile planes of its time. It could outmaneuver the German eindeckers with a climbing speed of over 113 mph."

"Wow, very impressive." Pomni smirked at his info dumping. "What about this one?" She pointed to a bright blue plane with three sets of wings stacked on top of each other.

Caine looked away from his work a bit longer this time. "Uh, that is a Sopwith Triplane. Also known as Tripes, only 160 were ever made and exclusively for the British Royal Navy. Don't let their weird design fool you, they were exceptionally maneuverable and packed serious heat with a Vickers .303 machine gun mounted behind the propeller."

"Cool. Oh! What about this one? I really like the paint job." Pomni excitedly pointed to a grey-green biplane with a black lightning-shaped arrow painted on the sides.

Caine set down his paintbrush to pick up the chosen plane. "One of my personal favorites, the Albatross D.VA. They were the first fighters powered by 160-hp Mercedes in-line engines which gave them the power to carry two 7.92mm synchronized machine guns. These proved superior to all other Western Front one-gun fighters. They were sent first to specialized squadrons of one-seat scout fighters that were established to achieve local battlefield air superiority. A real shame these marvels of engineering were mainly used by the Germans."

Pomni smiled at how relaxed and open Caine seemed to be while talking about the airplanes in his collection. She wasn't looking at the Ringmaster. She was looking at a man passionate about a hobby. He made these little models feel like real replicas of epic aerial combatants.

Caine noticed how Pomni was looking at him and stopped talking. "Uh- not that, uh, any of this is particularly relevant. Heh." He nervously looked away and set the Albatross down. "Never mind my rambling."

"I don't mind. This is fascinating stuff. I never knew you knew so much about early 1900s aerospace technology, and...I like hearing you talk." Pomni admitted, fiddling with her thumbs.

Caine could swear his heart skipped a beat. "You...do?"

Pomni blushed and quickly pointed to the unfinished plane in Caine's hand. "What'sthatone?" She said so quickly, she was nearly incomprehensible.

"Oh-" Caine cleared his throat, feeling a little warm under the collar. "This is a Fokker."

Pomni did a mental double take. "A what now?"

"I swear, that's its real name. There were quite a few different types of Fokkers, actually. The V38, the E.V. and D.V. series, the eindeckers, and the drideckers. Just to name a few." Caine held up the unfinished model. "This one is an original model Fokker."

"Sounds like the first world war was full of Fokkers." Pomni said with a crooked smile.

Caine saw the joke coming a mile away, but it was still funny. He chuckled, "That it was, my dear. That it was."

[natalievoncatte]

Here's a quick snippet of something I'm working on. This is from a discarded draft, but I'm still thinking of rewriting it and using it as the cold open for the story.

The bullet in her leg was going to be a problem.

Lena had been in scrapes before. This was, after all, the third version of her armor, each one built after the previous one had failed her in some way. It had taken her six long years to work out the balance between strength and agility, speed and power; to enhance her stealth abilities and find the right balance of preparation vs weight in her equipment. Prior to that she'd spent almost ten years preparing for her mission. Traveling, studying, learning, inventing.

At first her only concern had been blades and bullets. That had been easy to deal with. Her armored suit consisted of a base layer of electrically activated fibers that simulated fast twitch muscle fibers and could boost her overall strength output five fold, making her the physical equal or better of any enemy she might encounter in the field. A layer of kevlar-nomex triweave and proprietary composite armor plating over that made her quick and agile but well protected against guns and knives.

Tonight she'd learned that well protected wasn't totally protected.

It was almost funny, after everything that had happened in those five years, everything she'd overcome, that a gang of corrupt cops and mob thugs would be the ones to take her down.

Oh, and make no mistake, she had been taken down. She might have escaped the Axis Chemical factory, but she wasn't going to make it to the extraction point, and she knew it. She wasn't going to make it to Alfred this time.

They'd find her, eventually, pry her out of the armor, and reveal to the world that the Batman had been Lena Wayne all along. Of all the things she regretted as the plain flared in her thigh and she felt hot blood flowing beneath the inner layer of her suit, Lena was surprised to find that one of the things she'd regret most was not getting to see the looks on their faces when they found out.

She'd faced down plant toxins and freeze cannons and a shape-shifting monster. Aliens and metahumans and magicians. She'd taken them all on and come up ahead.

You know what? Lena decided, this isn't too bad. No, it wasn't a good death, but she was going out on her terms, knowing that she'd made some small difference. Maybe someone else could carry on her work. She'd left journals behind, set out instructions for what was to be done with her inventions and technology and the Wayne fortune. She would leave good in the world behind her. Martha and Thomas, the people who'd taken her in and raised her, would be proud. Bruce, her little brother who'd been the bravest man she ever knew, would be proud.

Maybe it would be a good death after all.

Lena stumbled through the open construction, threading between exposed I-beams. It wasn't in her to give up, to stop limping forward. She'd locked out her wounded leg, turning the suit rigid so she could hobble on it, and had already hit herself with an adrenaline auto-injector to keep her eyes open. She could make it to the extraction if she just kept moving.

Just keep moving.

As she limped forwards, Lena wondered how she'd get down. One problem at a time. She was in no shape to use a grapple line to get to street level. Keep moving. The pain in her leg was shocking, excruciating. She wondered if the bullet had fractured her femur. Maybe. She'd been hurt before, of course. Bullet to the back that slipped between armor plates and punched through, once, and all the ones that didn't hurt like hell anyway; it was like being pummeled with baseballs.

The display on the inside of her cracked helmet was lit up with warning lights and messages she didn't have time to parse. She knew what some of them were: Corrosive damage to the suit, drained power cells, her vitals plummeting, and the repeating all points bulletins declaring that the Batman was to be arrested on sight for the murder of Jack Napier.

Lena made it to the edge and leaned on a steel beam, looking down. Two blocks over to the extraction point. Alfred would be waiting for her. He'd get her out of the suit, patch her up, make it better. Alfred always made it better. She had to try. She had to try to get back.

Fumbling, she almost tumbled right off the edge until she slumped against the beam, her wounded leg starting to slide out from under her. She had to hug the steel to pull herself back up, prop herself up on the locked armor segments.

No, she wasn't going to make it, she realized. This was it. No heroic last stand, no final sacrifice, just bleeding out in a half-finished bougie apartment complex that had been stripped of all its copper five times. Lena wanted to laugh, but her lungs could only wheeze.

She almost didn't realize it when the half-skeletal building shook from a gust of wind.

No, not a wind. A blur of motion.

Her HUD lit up with proximity alarms, the onboard computers panicking when the sensor systems started failing from lack of power or severe damage. She really wanted to laugh. What now?

Turning, Lena put a hand on the beam to keep herself upright, and sighed.

No amount of preparation, no amount of refinement to her suit, would ever prepare her for this.

The Kryptonian strode across the plywood construction floor, cape majestically billowing behind her. Even in the dark she seemed alive with light, haloing her flawless golden curls and alive in her sky blue eyes, like she brought the sun with her. Her bright blue and red uniform stood in stark contrast against the muted grays, blues, and blacks of Gotham by night. Below them, sirens wailed. Hunters on the prowl for their wounded prey.

"What do you want?" Lena rasped. Her helmet altered her force into a deep growl.

"Batman," said Supergirl, "there's an all points bulletin out for your arrest."

"What else is new?"

Even now, she was the detective, stalling. The helmet's systems were scanning Supergirl's face, matching against her own facial recognition database using algorithms she'd written herself. The suit did all this automatically, so that she had complete files when she returned to the Cave.

"They're saying you killed a man tonight," said Kara. "I'm taking you in."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Lena coughed, the sound exploding in a garbled belch from her damaged helmet.

"You can barely stand," said Supergirl. "That wound in your leg needs medical attention. Just let me help you."

"Help me?" Lena spat, reaching for her belt. "Don't be absurd."

"You're coming with me either way," said Supergirl, edging closer. "Trying to fight me is pointless. You don't stand a chance."

"Want to test that theory?" said Lena.

Supergirl shook her head.

The suit came back with a facial recognition match.

DANVERS, KARA.

Her biographical data began to scroll across Lena's vision. She dismissed it with a laugh.

"It figures," she muttered.

"What?" said Supergirl. She moved closer. "I can hear your heart rate decreasing. I'll take you to a hospital. I promise, you'll get a fair hearing, you just-"

Lena laughed again. "A fair hearing. You must be joking."

Supergirl edged closer. "Wait. You're using a voice changer."

Lena's eyes shot open wide inside her helmet. "How... of course. Superhuman hearing, right?"

"Wait," said Kara, "wait, I know that voice. Lena?"

[wordy-little-witch]

Transfemme Buggy who never realized until a certain disease is transmitted and spread on an island she and her crew visits.

Blackboard and his ilk had been there before, and Buggy had just so happened to show up within a week of the other leaving. Damages were minimal overall but the marks of their presence was there, everywhere, in the pale faces, the new graves, the sickness and fear.

It was a typical stop, supplies and information gathered in equal measure. Tasks delegated, Buggy is among a group chatting up the locals, and that layer of ignorance self consciousness is there, as it always is, when eyes catch on the captain's visage, but way that Buggy is being watched changes between one minute and the next. Someone comes into the shop, a young woman at a glance, who sneezes. Buggy doesn't think much on it, a charming smile and offered handkerchief the only response. The gazes go from wary, warming up to them, to suddenly wild and fearful and there's a shout and-

Buggy chokes on air, feeling the moment something latches in his lungs. His Devil Fruit is useful in ways few can fathom, in ways he cannot explain, but the introduction of something Foreign and Unapproved is a feeling the jester knows well, one which is often a mere reflex to Chop off of his cells, but this one adheres, latches, and Buggy can feel it seep and spread and-

Between one moment and the next, Buggy blinks past the sudden vertigo, genome shuffled and reverted and inverted until the swimming in his vision pauses, Cabaji's wide, panicked face swirling into focus. The blue haired pirate squints, confused tilts a dizzy head, and then freezes at the ambient wave over sensitive Haki, terror and guilt and panic which chokes and screams and wails.

Buggy moves to stand and freezes.

He looks down.

That is... definitely new.

A gloved hand touches his chest, the breasts straining under the striped top. "Huh," the clown captain says after a moment. "I did not have 'Sudden Sex Change' on my 1565 bingo card."

There's laughter, and Buggy preens a little as the negative emotions begin bleeding off, replaced by cautious amusement. Once tempers have calmed enough, there's a moment of questioning, where clarity is sought and then relatively received.

It's a change, certainly, and one which is yet another echo of Teach's group having been on that island. Buggy isn't upset - it isn't their fault after all, the town is just as hit by this as he is - but he is.... contemplative about it.

The crew is overall relatively calm about it. Gender equality is something Buggy does enforces heavily on the crew, assigned sex at birth or otherwise. Barring a few others, some more well renowned than most, the Buggy Pirates are the most progressive and open minded of pirates.

So after a quick explanation, things are back to business as usual - and Buggy is happy about it, obviously, the respect is there and it's perfect, the normalcy is fine.

It's the way he feels that throws a wrench in it all.

It takes a while to realize, because it's There, but it's just beneath the surface.

It starts when Buggy puts on a little weight.

All in all, that's not a big deal - but to Buggy who has a long standing problem with food and eating, it's notable. It's not uncomfortable. It's not like there's an Issue with eating or bodily image issues, it's the lack of time, of desire, of enjoyment in it. Buggy had always been on the slimmer side, never packing on muscle the way of the men and women in his life early on. Buggy was built slim and willowy, no less strong but less visibly jacked. It suited him just fine, that method of muscle, suited to aerials, to agility and speed. It fit and Buggy was adaptable.

Only now, Buggy isn't as preoccupied. There's less of a desperate, cloying need to fill his every waking moment with tasks and duties and activities. It's subtle. It's the slightest of shifts. It starts when he gains a little weight.

Then it becomes casual comments from the crew. "You look so healthy," some say warmly. "You look happy." And Buggy is. Buggy IS happy. And Buggy feels healthy. And it's strange, so strange, and it's wonderful and confusing and amazing, and it all comes to a head as things do with Buggy by sheer happenstance.

They dock at an island. Buggy and Alvida are restocking on makeup. A clerk calls them "ladies". Buggy waves it off, both the butterflies and the referral, and then that same clerk responds to a question the captain asked with a warm "yes, ma'am, absolutely"

And Buggy is having a realization in a small cosmetic shop on a tiny no-name island in the New World.

As they leave, she catches Alvida's sleeve and he - she - asks a question. "Could I... be a woman?"

And Alvida, sweet Alvida, blunt and brutally honest Alvida, snorts. "Fuck if I know. If you want to, sure, but your body doesn't determine that. If you're a woman," she pokes her friend in the chest, above the clown's heart, "then this is all that needs to be a woman. Is it?"

And Buggy breathes shakily. "I... yes. Yes? Yeah. I. I think so."

"Then you're a woman. Now come on, sister, we still need to find a foundation for me."

Buggy comes out to the crew casually though not without nerves. They get back and she just drops it with all the finesse of a bull in a China shop. "Surprise, it's a girl! And by it, I mean me."

The only response for a moment is silence, then someone asks about pronouns. And Buggy is bathed in the cacophony of her crew screeching their happiness for her, thanking her for trusting them, singing her praises, and she's a puddle, truly, she is melting into a pirate puddle.

Accepting it makes things fall into place a little easier. She's comfortable in this body in a way she never was before. The center of gravity fell in a more natural way to her senses, lower and steadier. She isn't any less strong, and she's not at all interested in the stick-thin-sensational body type, though more power to people who rock it. She is herself, and she never expected to be all that different. She's still got the musculature of an aerialist, the corded muscle of a knife fighter, no amount of hormone changes will take away that. She distributes the weight differently like this, filling her clothes in a way that looks and feels better to her. It's like she was assembling a puzzle in her heart, blindfolded, and she never knew a piece was missing until it fell into her hand, knocking the rest into place like a domino effect. Unexpected but undeniable, she was happy.

She felt beautiful in a way that she never had before, she felt more confident, more at home, more at ease in this skin of hers now that it finally was molded into a better form.

And with that contentment came freedom that she hadn't had the time for in what felt like eternity.

Freedom to experiment, to train, to explore. She felt better, so she could be better, could do better, and so she became better.

And the Seas quaked as a result.

[farashibutjustfoolingaorund]

So cool how characters in RE contrast each other capabilities-wise.

Chris is an expert marksman and vehicle handler (ex airforce) who mainly relies on grappling and punching for his melee attacks being the tank of a guy that he is.

Leon has crashed almost every vehicle he's driven, mains kicks, and is built more for agility and mobility than tanking hits. This is especially visible in his fight with Chris in RE6 and his fight with Arias in Vendetta. In RE6, Chris is always trying to close the distance to take control over his opponent, but the reason their fight ends in a draw is because Chris throws Leon, which gives Leon the space to react. Kicks also just naturally require more space or are meant to get distance from an opponent. (Not to say they can't ever be used in closer quarters, like popping a low roundhouse, for instance). And Leon's just schmoovin in Vendetta.

In contrast to both, Jill seems to prefer knives and melee over firearms and has an acrobatic/aerial agility flow as opposed to Leon's ground flow, and also mains kicks/distance melee in contrast to Chris' more extreme close quarters style. (this is prevalent in RE5 and Death Island especially). Canonically Jill has bested both Chris and Leon in melee combat. Her win against Chris was probably affected by the alterations made to her by Wesker and also Chris not wanting to hurt her, but nonetheless. Chris is capable enough that he should be able to restrain someone without seriously hurting them. I think this is solid ground to say Jill is the most skilled hand to hand combatant in RE.

Like Chris, she can seriously take a hit. Most RE characters can, given their line of work, but these two especially.

Ada's style is geared toward stealth and efficiency, which lends itself to her more graceful and poised movement style. A lot of her RE4R melees rely on momentum and really putting her whole body into an attack. I don't just mean her spin kicks and hookshot melees, she puts her whole torso into her sidekick to the point that she actually looks away from the opponent because of the torque.

I've not looked as closely at Wesker, but his fighting style is this interesting mix of theatrics and brutal efficiency, which is enhanced by his speed. It all depends on how much he is toying with his opponent. He moves very quickly and hits precisely, but makes a show of it sometimes. See Code Veronica.

Though not really a trained agent or military personnel, Claire's gun handling is second to none. Chris may have been the best marksman in STARS, but I honestly believe that if it's her against him in a shooting contest, she would win. See Code Veronica, Degeneration, Rev2, etc.

A note on pain tolerance, Death Island gives us an interesting insight into that.

I got the sense that the initial viral injection from the drone hurts immensely. Claire is immediately brought to her hands and knees by the pain. This makes sense, as she's not a trained agent of any kind.

Chris lasts a little longer than her, but is soon brought to his hands and knees as well. That's how you know it has to hurt bad, because Chris Redfield, whose whole thing is being a tough guy who can take a hit, is on the ground. However, despite the pain, he still has the presence of mind to try and comfort his sister, which is also a very Chris thing to do.

I was actually quite surprised by Leon's pain tolerance. He toughs it out way longer than Chris did before going to the ground. Even then, he's present enough to aim his gun and throw a flash grenade, demonstrating he can work through more pain that Chris can. Even so, he's still unable to block any kind of attack from Maria or recover correctly after being hit, which makes sense.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

A Cluster of Burning Stars - Chapter Three

in which Sonic runs

(I realized I accidentally labelled the last post Chapter One instead of Two; you didn't miss any chapters dw!)

{ao3} {tumblr}

Sonic had been about twelve at the time. Or, well, twelve-ish. The Professor had later told them that they’d each come out of the pod at the equivalent of six years old. He barely remembered that, of course. There’d been so much testing to do after he was “born” that he didn’t have much memory of the first time he clambered onto the cold ARK floors. Apparently, the Professor told him later, he’d immediately started to run. Surprised the scientists with his instant agility as he began racing laps around the room. Sonic supposed that was in-character enough for him to believe. Running was really all he was good at. 

That’s what he’d been doing at the moment; running. The large track room was made mainly to capture the bits of chaos power that burst from the prototypes as they built up energy and adrenaline, and so it was where Sonic found himself most often, whether by choice or not. He supposed he liked it much better than the other testing rooms. He got to run as much as he wanted, after all, and it would take a very long time for somebody to tell him to stop. He had to build up enough speed on the floor first, before making his way up to the walls; Shadow could just teleport up there, but with Sonic, he had to be fast enough that gravity wouldn’t instantly yank him back to the ground. Once he was, he could race his way up, lock his shoes onto the track, and go as fast as his little legs could take him. 

He wasn’t really sure why he liked running so much. The way the air felt against his face? The euphoric feeling that nobody could catch him like this? Maybe he was pretending he was running on the Earth’s soil… but no, he’d liked running far before Maria had told him about the planet below. Maybe it was just instinct. Pure, animal instinct that couldn’t be trained out of him. 

Though maybe not. He didn’t like when they called him an “animal.” 

He was running, then, lap after lap in the circular space, when he heard the door creak open. He glanced down, face lighting up as he saw Maria wheel her way in– it was one of her bad days, where she couldn’t even walk without hurting herself, so she got a special wheelchair that her and Amy had spent quite a bit of time slapping stickers and marker-scribbles onto. Sonic waved, doing a few more laps to let her find a spot to relax inside before running down beside her. Still full of energy, he ran in place, pumping his arms as he spoke.

“Hey, Mari-ri! What’re you doin here?” 

Maria laughed a little, brushing a hand over his quills. Most scientists would be scared of chaos sparks with how much he’d just been exerting himself, but Maria always found an excuse to pet her friends. “Wanted to find you. Figured you’d be here.”

“Lucky guess.” Sonic laughed. As if he’d be anywhere else. He finally slowed his feet, beginning to stretch a little as his eyes darted around the room. “Where’s Shads?” 

“He’s doing a test for most of the afternoon. So’s Amy.” 

That was a surprise. Well, not that Shadow was doing a test– Lord knows the scientists liked testing him far more than they liked the other two hedgehogs. He was the success, after all. Prototype One, the Ultimate Lifeform and all that. No, the surprise was that Maria was here without him. Usually, Shadow stuck to her like… well, like his namesake, a little Shadow, clinging to her leg or arm. He was protective of her, yeah, always scared she’d have an episode if Shadow went anywhere without her, but Sonic could also tell that she brought him comfort in return. Usually, when he was doing a test, Maria would be sleeping, or in the hospital, or finding somewhere quiet to read. 

“Okay, that doesn’t answer my question. What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see if you were doing anything interesting.” 

“Oh, Maria. I never am.” 

“Of course you are!” Maria’s face brightened. “Look at how fast you were going! It’s really amazing.”

“I’m sure Shadow goes faster.” 

Her voice lowered, and she leaned in closer to him. “Hey, keep a secret?” Interested, his ears flicked for a second, before he nodded. “He doesn’t.” 

“Maria!” 

“Really! And he’s soooo mad about it, too.” 

Sonic kicked one of his feet. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Since when do I lie to you? It’s probably a trade-off– he can teleport, sure, but you’ve got more raw power in your physical movement.” 

Sonic laughed at the idea, crossing his arms. “Then what does Amy get?” 

“The hammer.” 

“Oh, yeah. Stupid question.” 

Maria rubbed his head again. “There are no stupid questions.”

“Only stupid hedgehogs.” Sonic laughed. After a moment, he clambered into Maria’s lap, purring against her chest as she put her arms around his back. “So. What do you want to do?”

“I dunno. I only know that I’m bored as hell.” 

Sonic considered for a moment, looking over Maria, and then glancing back up to the walls of the track. No, she wouldn’t be safe up there, but… 

“Wanna go for a run?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow, and then gestured to her wheelchair. “Not a good day for that, pal.”

“Always a good day to go fast!” he said, and before she could respond, he zipped on behind her, grabbing tight to the handles of her chair. “What d’ya say? Up and down the halls a bit?”

For a moment, Maria was too stunned to respond. Then she turned, her face bright. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble.”

“So what else is new?”

“You sure you won’t, like, push me into a wall or something?”

“I know these halls like the back of my glove, Mari-ri. And my reflexes are too good to hit any pedestrians.” 

Maria turned away from him for a second, visibly considering. Sonic bounced on his feet, biting his lip as he waited for her answer. Then, she turned, a big smirk lighting up her face. “Let’s do it to it.” 

“Hold on tight!” Sonic said. He geared up as she gripped the armrests, and then took off at top-speed. 

---

“We should only be a few minutes from the plane. Do you think he can support himself?”

“I don’t want to risk it. He might still be in shock.” 

“You’re so overprotective of everything.” 

“Says the boy with eighteen defense systems.” 

The hedgehog seemed to be barely processing the conversation between the other two mobians. His eyes were glassy, unfocused as they stared ahead. His legs had started moving a few minutes ago, so Knuckles had lowered him from his back and started helping him walk along. Still, he shook quite a bit, and Knuckles kept a tight grip on his shoulder in case he started to fall. 

“Look, let’s just get him somewhere safe. We can swap him for the Chaotix’s emerald, if they managed to get their hands on it. You know Vec will take care of him.” 

“I don’t want Robotnik going after them again. Seira’s rich, she’s probably got some good security, right?” 

“I trust her with a lot of things. Not with being tactful towards a traumatized time-jumper.” 

“We could try Northstar.” 

“After the disaster that happened there, I don’t think we’re allowed to go back.” 

“Yeah, well, they won’t let Robotnik on, either.” 

The hedgehog’s ears perked slightly, and he blinked. Trying to refocus. 

“But then we can’t keep an eye on him. I don’t want him disappearing on us.”

Sonic glanced up, looking ahead at the distant shoreline. Shoreline? Yes, that looked like the pictures of the ocean he’d seen before. 

He stopped for a second, taking a deep breath. Knuckles quickly halted beside him. “Hey. You okay?” 

“Yeah, I–” Sonic shook his head, again trying to clear it from the haze that had come over him. He made a few rapid blinks, and then shook himself again. “I just. Need a minute.” 

“We don’t want to stay here too long,” Tails said. “It’s too open. If we get followed…”

Sonic didn’t really listen to the warnings. Instead, he slid out of the echidna’s grip and began stretching out his legs. They felt normal now. Maybe a little heavy,  a little tired, but none more than usual after waking up. He bent down, touching his toes, almost instinctively going into his warm-up routine. 

“What’s he doing?”

“Give him a second.” 

He stretched up his arms, then raised them forward, fingers interlocked. He dropped them back to his side, and then looked at the distant shore again. Slowly, he turned back to the other mobians… God, seeing other mobians was something he’d have to get used to.

“Can I…” he hesitated, then bit down on his lip. He shouldn’t ask, not this soon.

“What?” the echidna asked. 

“No, I…” he shut his eyes, and then, extremely quickly, spat out, “Can I just run a few laps around the island? Just for a few minutes. Just for a bit.”

“Around the island?” the fox raised a brow incredulously. “Gonna take more than a few minutes, bud.” 

“You’re still adjusting to Earth.” Knuckles said carefully. “And we don’t want you getting into trouble out of our sight.”

“Please. Please, I’ll be careful. I just need to run for a minute.” 

“Knuckles,” Tails’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I don’t want him getting away.”

“Look at him. You think he’s gonna be a threat?” Knuckles whispered back. Sonic wondered if they knew he could hear them. 

“Could be.” 

“That breakdown didn’t seem fake.” 

Sonic hugged himself, shutting his eyes tight and trying to hold back more tears. He’d cried enough on the ground by the pod, screaming and pounding his fists into the dirt, as if the earth below him was what had taken his family away. He didn’t need to break again, not so soon. 

“Please,” Sonic said again, his voice breaking a little. “Just for a minute. I need to clear my head. I need to think about… anything else.” 

Anything but the images that flashed in his mind whenever he closed his eyes. Of the pale hand reaching for him. Of the blood splattered on the ground, under the blaring, piercing alarm. Of the pod door closing in front of him, the rush of cold piercing his sides. 

Knuckles and Tails shared some kind of look, and Knuckles finally said, “Look, just pace yourself. Do a lap around the area–”

Sonic didn’t need to be told twice. Instantly, he was off, a shower of dirt kicked into the air behind him as he raced for the beach. He could hear Tails let out a shocked gasp, but Sonic was already going for the ocean. When he reached it, he spun, beginning to run across the sand. The sand felt different to the dirt; looser, less stable. But more crunchy. He liked the sound. He liked the sound of the waves beside him, too. He’d never seen so much water in his life. 

He turned, and began to speed around the edge of the island. When he said it would only be a few minutes, he’d meant it. Now that his legs were working, his speed was back, too. But the island was extremely different from what he was used to– there were rocks he had to dodge instead of regular obstacle blocks, any cliffsides were less stable and more bumpy than the walls that used to hold him safe. There weren’t any fluorescents, only a single, setting sun in the sky, and the air was warm against his fur, instead of the cool, conditioned breeze of the lab. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. 

You can do it. He heard her voice in his head. He shook his head and tried to block it out. 

It was easier on the second lap, of course, once he knew where he was going. By the third lap, he’d pretty much memorized each rock and creek and shattered stump. As soon as he found himself back on the part of the beach he’d started on, he turned back, racing a few seconds inward before stopping beside the fox and echidna. He doubled over, hands on his knees, as the sudden stop suddenly shot an ache across his legs. 

“Man. I needed that.” he breathed. Even with the pain in his feet, screaming at him that he should have waited a few more minutes… he already felt clearer. 

“What.” came the fox’s voice. “The. Fuck.” 

Sonic glanced up, again twitching his ear in confusion. Both mobians were staring at him as he had suddenly grown a second head. He glanced behind him, making sure there was nothing else they could be looking at, before turning back.

“I’m sorry. Did I take too long? Sorry.” 

The fox and echidna shared a look, and then Knuckles slowly said, “How… how fast were you going?” 

“I dunno. Not up to par, really. I don’t know the area. Maybe a couple hundred KPH?” 

They kept staring at him. Suddenly, the fox looked very interested, and he began wagging his tails. “Fascinating. So you can run at supersonic speeds?”

“Ha-ha, yeah.” Sonic flinched as another pain came to his chest. “That’s where the name came from. It’s– dude, you can fly?” 

The fox had begun to hover a few feet off the ground, his tails spinning so rapidly they blurred together. “Huh? Yeah.” he suddenly flew over to the hedgehog, putting a hand on his heart for a moment. “Normal heartrate.” he then moved onto the hedgehog’s arm. “It doesn’t look like you exerted yourself too much.”

“Well, like I said. Don’t know the area well. What’s so interesting?”

“Your speed is impressive,” Knuckles finally said. 

“Not really.” Sonic laughed. “I mean, I know people who can do way cooler stuff.” 

“That kind of speed should be impossible for a living being.” Tails said. “And that’s not even your record?” 

Starting to feel a little uncomfortable, Sonic laid his ears back. “Let’s… let’s just forget about it.” 

“Sonic.” the fox pulled back, putting his paws on Sonic’s cheeks to force him to look him in the eye.

Sonic stiffened, waiting for the inevitable scolding.

“That was so cool.”

“It… what?” Sonic blinked. 

“That was cool as hell! When we get back to the lab, I need to find out how this is even possible. I mean, you’ve got some kind of connection to chaos energy, of course, but if we run a few tests–”

The tiny spark of happiness died at the last word. Sonic stumbled back, shaking his head. “No! No tests!” 

For a second, the fox looked confused. Then he said, “Right. Right, sorry. I got carried away. You came from a lab, right? Must’ve been… a lot. Sorry, no tests.” 

The slight tone of disappointment cut right through his heart. “I mean– I–” he stumbled. “I don’t want– I just– look, if you need to–”

“I think,” Knuckles said, coming between them and putting a hand on both their shoulders, “We need to get home and get some rest. It’s a long flight. Have you ever been in a plane before?”

Sonic shook his head. “I… haven’t been on ground before, either.” 

“Right.” Knuckles nodded. He glanced bitterly around the area. “Sorry this is your first view of Earth. This place is depressing.”

Sonic blinked. “Are you serious? This place is beautiful.” 

There was that confused stare again. And then Knuckles said, “Come on. We’ll do our best to explain things once we get to Tails’s workshop.” 

---

Getting Sonic to the workshop turned out to be a challenge in of itself. First, he tried to drink from the ocean while Tails was starting the engine, which caused him to cough so hard that Knuckles nearly gave him a heimlich. Then they realized both he and Knuckles were going to have to fit into one seat, which annoyed Knuckles to no end, but what was he gonna do? Complain in front of the guy who just lost his entire life? He shut his mouth and let the hedgehog squeeze in next to him. Even before they took off, he bounced his leg incessantly, and then once they were in the air, he kept leaning over the side of the plane to look at the ocean below, nearly falling off multiple times. Knuckles finally yanked him into a safe position, only for him to promptly fall asleep on his lap, and stay conked out until they landed. 

Knuckles hesitantly carried him out of the plane as Tails held open the door. “Didn’t he just sleep for fifty years? You’d think he’d be wide-awake.” 

“Like I told him, the pod’s settings weren’t entirely online. He didn’t get up as fully-rested as, say, Shadow did. The pod kept him alive and unaging, didn’t exactly do as good at recharging him.” 

“Well. At least the important stuff was taken care of.” 

“Right. Just set him on the hammock. I’ll check on the others.” 

Knuckles nodded and moved to the left wall, where Tails had half-heartedly hung himself a bed. He usually fell asleep at his desk, but Vector had once refused to leave until he convinced him that he was actually taking care of himself. Knuckles carefully settled the snoring hedgehog in the hammock, before stepping back. “He needs a bath, too. Went headfirst into the dirt and then kicked up debris from half the island.” 

Tails didn’t pay much attention; instead, he was checking through his computer. “No sign of any other pods yet. That’s concerning. And Seira’s forwarded me a– oh. Shadow’s got the chaos emerald from the museum.” 

“What?” Knuckles raced forwards, slamming his hand on the computer desk. 

Up ahead, they saw footage of a news report, showing what was clearly Shadow crashing through a window, a chaos emerald held tight to his chest. 

“Shit.” 

Tails tapped a few buttons, and then put a hand to his ear. “Vector, are you there? Vector! Come in!” 

It must’ve taken Vector a while to respond, cause Knuckles had time to reach up and turn his own communicator on by the time he answered. “Tails?”

“Vector, please tell me you’ve got a hand on that chaos emerald.” 

“Tails, where have you been? We’ve been trying to call for an hour!” 

Knuckles whistled. “That doesn’t sound good.” 

“I’ve been midair, Vector. What did you do?” 

“We didn’t do jack! We got your stupid emerald, only for GUN to swoop in and take it from us.” 

“What? Already?” Tails bristled.

“Yeah, and lemme tell you. They were not cool about it.”

“Okay, okay.” Tails took a breath, sitting back down into his swivel chair. “How ‘not cool’?” 

“Like… rude? Not sure what you want me to say.” 

“That’s normal.” 

“They seemed to be in a rush, too.” 

“Shit. Okay. Fuck. Have you talked to anyone else?” 

“Uh, no? Why–?” 

“I’ll call you back.” Tails flipped a switch on his communicator. “Mighty! Mighty, come in!” 

Knuckles shut his communicator off, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples. This whole thing was giving him a massive headache. He heard Tails prattle on about something, and turned to the monitors again. Most were displaying text, one still showed the report of Shadow making a menace of himself, several showed flickering maps, and still others showed lines of code. Knuckles could read quite a few languages– there were a lot of ruins left on his island– but “code” was certainly not one of them. Apparently it was second-nature to Tails, though. He glanced at the maps again, before tuning back into Tails’s conversation. 

“...alright. Keep looking. We’ll head off GUN and get what we can.” he flipped his switch off. “Knuckles, did you get that?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“For the love of– okay, listen. Robotnik’s got at least three emeralds now, maybe four. GUN just swiped the one near the Chaotix; looks like they already have a second. I’m going to track that energy to try and find where they took it, and we’re gonna grab them first.” 

“Why?” 

“Do you trust them to keep em safe?” 

Knuckles laughed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But more importantly, Robotnik’s clearly already in GUN’s systems. He’s gonna know they have those gems, and he’s gonna be after them, too. I’m setting my computers to track where they put it. Soon as they do, we’re getting there first.” 

“Mm-hmm. When are you planning to sleep, then?”

“On the way. I can put the Brontide on autopilot.” 

“You know I don’t trust those things.” 

“Do you want to fly it?” 

“Do you think I can?” 

“No, and I would never let you. I need to swap out my guns.” He flew over to a large cabinet, typing in a code to unlock it before completely climbing inside. His echoing voice called out, “Let me know if you hear an emerald detection!” 

Knuckles laughed a little, before hearing a crash in the other direction. He leapt to his fighting stance, turning just in time to see Sonic face-first on the ground again, the hammock twisted above him. 

“Ow…”

Knuckles carefully stepped away from the computer, making his way over to the hedgehog. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I… had trouble getting out of there.” 

“Looks like you almost cocooned yourself.” Knuckles smirked, before kneeling down and holding out a hand. “Did we wake you up?” 

“No.” he shook his head as he stood, rubbing the back of his head. “No, actually I… look, I need to–”

Tails flew out of the cabinet, kicking the door shut, holding two different guns in his hands. “Knux, should I take the .38 or the .45?” 

Sonic’s eyes widened. Knuckles quickly said, “Put those away, Tails.” 

“Fine, I’ll take em both.” He shoved them into his tail fluff, flew his way down, and said, “Who woke up Blue?” 

“Hey, listen.” Sonic glanced nervously up at the cabinet, then to the floor. “Thank you for… everything. But I need to find my array.” 

“Your what?” Tails clearly was holding back a laugh. 

Sonic flinched. “My host? My prickle? My… Look, there were two other hedgehogs with me, Amy and Shadow. They got sent off at the same time as me, they should be in the same state I was. I need to find them.” 

Knuckles took a deep breath, while Tails let out a long sigh and put his head in his hands.

“What?” he paused. “Look, I know I don’t know my way around Earth, but if you don’t want to help me, maybe you could, I dunno, point me in the right direction? Or help me find someone who can–”

“So, here’s the thing.” Tails began. Sonic stopped talking, tilting his head in confusion. “Ugh, how do we even start with this?” 

Knuckles, who was always quite direct with everything, decided to try that approach. “Your friend Shadow’s a terrorist now.” 

“Not a good place to start.” Tails hissed, as Sonic yelped.

“Wait, you know Shadow? Is he okay?” Sonic raced to Knuckles, grabbing his hands, before doing a double take and saying, “He’s what?” 

Tails raised his voice slightly, so that Sonic’s attention drifted back towards him. “We managed to find your pod because Shadow’s opened earlier today. It sent out a signal towards any other escape pods of the same line, and we traced that to you. We’re working on finding any others, but so far it’s just you and Shadow, and unfortunately, someone else found Shadow first.” 

Sonic’s brow knitted with worry. “Who?” 

Tails went up to his computer, tapped a few buttons, and brought up a picture of Robotnik on the largest monitor. “Dr. Ivo Robotnik, also known as a massive pain in the ass. He–”  

“Professor?” Sonic gasped. 

Tails and Knuckles both stared at him for a second. “Doctor.” Tails corrected him. “He’s not that accredited.” 

“No, no. That’s the Professor.” Sonic raced to the monitor, putting a hand against it. “That’s Professor Gerald Robotnik. But… younger? Or maybe he just dyed his hair?” Tails gave him a strange look. “But, look, I know him. He was on the ARK with us. He made us.” 

Both Tails and Knuckles stiffened for a moment. “You’re Robotnik-made?” Tails asked, stepping back a second. 

Not noticing this reaction, Sonic nodded, before turning back to the screen. He pushed his face closer to it, the palm of his hand flattened farther, as if hoping he could phase himself inside if he got near enough. 

Tails considered for a moment. “Okay… Gerald Robotnik, that must be a relative. That would explain how Robotnik even found out about Project Shadow and all these encrypted files– he must have had a leg up with inside information. Did… did your ‘Gerald’ have any relatives?”

Sonic opened his mouth, closed it, and then blinked away tears. He stepped back, taking a deep breath and hugging himself. Knuckles watched as his claws dug into his own arms, before Sonic answered, “He had two kids. And a granddaughter. She was on the ARK with us. That was Maria.” he swallowed, and then backed up until he hit against the keyboard, before reaching behind him to tightly grip on the edge. 

Knuckles glanced around, before grabbing a chair from Tails’s wood desk and pushing it forwards. Sonic took the hint and zoomed his way over, hopping between the areas in the blink of an eye. It still made Knuckles bristle up, as his body tensed for an attack, but Sonic just used his speed to get to the chair before his legs could give way, and he curled his knees up onto the base, hugging them and burying his nose in his lap. 

Tails carefully made his way over. “What… what exactly happened up there?” 

“I don’t know.” he said shakily. “It was normal. It was a normal day. I mean, they…” he shut his eyes, then shook his head. “It was normal, and then GUN showed up from Earth. We thought they were just here to talk about something. They would come up sometimes to talk with the Professor. They funded the ARK, you know? But they just… started firing on anyone that moved. I was… I was by the window with Amy. And I just heard screaming.” 

He gripped harder onto his knees. Carefully, Knuckles reached over and put a hand over one of his. Sonic flinched at first, and then leaned into the touch. 

“I went to see what was wrong, but I was… they were dead, they were all dead. And they pointed those guns at me, and I just froze up. I froze up but Amy came in and knocked them all down. We started just running, trying to find Shadow and Maria. They were in the halls, they were running, too. Shadow and Amy were trying to fight back, I was just… I tried to run with Maria, I did, but she wouldn’t leave Shadow and Amy behind, and she didn’t want… she was trying to get everyone to stop fighting. And one of the soldiers…” 

Sonic began to curl in on himself; a defensive position for hedgehogs. Knuckles moved his hand to his shoulder, laying his arm against his back as he did so. 

“We tried to get her to the pods.” Sonic shivered. “But she pushed me and Amy in. Shadow tried to stop her, but she got him in one, too. She hit the button and we…” he took a deep breath. “The pod turned on. I froze over. And then I was asleep.” After a second, he uncurled, glancing up at Tails, whose face was stone. “We were supposed to help her. We were supposed to protect her. And we… I failed.” 

For a moment, Knuckles didn’t see Sonic; instead, he saw the claws of a giant machine, closed around the Master Emerald. He blinked, and it was gone, and he just squeezed Sonic’s shoulder. 

“I doubt it was your fault.” Tails said. 

“It was.” 

“Really, it’s GUN’s fault for being such little bitches. Not surprised they’d just kill anyone working on a project they didn’t want to fund anymore.” Tails scoffed, crossing his own arms. “They just nabbed a chaos emerald from us–” 

“You have the chaos emerald?” Sonic looked up, surprised.

“You had one?”

“On the ARK. I’m not sure where it went when everything… happened.” 

“Well, down here, clearly.” Tails huffed. “There’s seven. Robotnik and Shadow have three or four by this point. GUN has two. We need to get these things before they can get their hands on them.” 

“But, I don’t get it.” Sonic looked up to Knuckles. “Why isn’t Shadow here? Why did you say he…” 

“As we said,” Knuckles said slowly, “Robotnik found him first. We’re not sure what his plan is, but he has Shadow on his side.” 

“Gave us kind-of an ass-beating.” Tails shrugged.

Sonic cracked a small smile. “Heh. Sounds like him.” he shook his head. “But Shadow wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. He probably thinks this is the Professor or something, that he’s trying to help people.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time Robotnik has tricked someone.” Knuckles crossed his arms. 

“What… who is this guy?” Sonic asked. 

Tails gestured to the monitor again. “Piece of trash. A few years back, he started trying to take over the planet with his advanced technology. Unfortunately for all of us, he’s not completely inept. He took over a good chunk of the islands before he hit mine.” Knuckles stiffened. “Blew the place sky-high trying to find the chaos emeralds. But since they’d arrived in my area, I’d had experience with assholes trying to swipe them before. I gathered the gems and stole one of his ships, but we both crashed on Angel Island, where Knuckles lived.” Tails then glanced at Knuckles, and smirked a little. “That didn’t go so well at first, did it?”

“In my defense, fox,” Knuckles said, “You did try to shoot me multiple times.” 

“I was also, like, four years old. You probably should’ve known I wasn’t a demon trying to steal your emerald.”

“I didn’t think you were a demon, I thought you were a kitsu–”

“Hold up.” Sonic held up his hands. “You were four? Stealing and flying a ship?” 

Tails shrugged. “I’m talented. Anyway, Robotnik tried to steal the Master Emerald, but we used the chaos emeralds to bring it back down, crash his first Death Egg, and survive the fall to Earth. Since then, we’ve had Angel Island under lockdown, and we’ve been trying to keep the emeralds as far away from the Doctor as possible.” 

“He’s made quite a lot of enemies with his roboticization methods,” Knuckles said, “So we have contacts across several islands and most of the continents.” 

“Our B-Team have been trying to undo the damage he’s already done to the roboticized areas, but it’s slow and incredibly dangerous work. We’re in charge of keeping him from doing more damage.” 

Sonic glanced over to the monitor again, then shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. The Professor never wanted to hurt anyone. Neither did Maria. They just wanted to make the world a better place.” 

“Well, clearly they didn’t impart that onto Ivo over here.” 

“So… so what’s he doing with Shadow?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Tails said. He hit the keyboard a few times, and the monitors came together, forming a large map of Prison Island. “My trackers just let me know that GUN brought their new emerald back to Prison Island.” 

“The place Robotnik just broke in and out of?” Knuckles scoffed. “Not likely.” 

“It is a pretty stupid plan, but the military isn’t known for their brains.” Tails said. 

“It’s too stupid. Either that’s a fake–”

“There aren’t fake chaos emeralds, Knuckles.”

“–or it’s a trap.” 

Tails hmmed. “A trap isn’t that bad an idea. Still a bad place to put it, but maybe it’s their best cell. If it is a trap, we’re gonna have to be careful getting in before the Doctor does. They’re probably just as prepared for us as him.” 

“You’re…” Sonic shakily got to his feet. “You’re going straight to GUN?” 

Knuckles and Tails exchanged a long, quiet look. Then, carefully, Tails said, “We’re very, very used to going up against man-made weapons. We broke in there today, and we’ll do it again tomorrow when we reach the island.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“We can’t let Robotnik get those gems.” Knuckles said. 

“But–” Sonic turned back to the screen, the green map and blinking, red dot of chaos energy reflecting in his wide eyes. 

“We’ll be careful,” Tails said. “And we’ll try to make sure Shadow doesn’t get hurt in the crossfire, either, if you think he’s really innocent in all this.” 

Sonic’s voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “You think he’ll be there?”

“He’s Robotnik’s new pet.” Knuckles said. “He’ll be there.” 

Sonic stared at the screen for several more, very quiet minutes. Then he said, “Then I’m coming, too.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think that would be smart.” Tails said. 

“I’m going.” the blue hedgehog’s fists curled. “I’m not letting GUN kill you and I’m not letting them kill him. Besides,” he released his fists, and then clapped his hands together. “I’ve got some anger to work out.” 

Knuckles smiled. “I can respect that. Are you prepared for combat?” 

Sonic shut his eyes very, very tight. “You could say that.” 

And that was that.

---

{ao3} {tumblr}

[tranquilskies2]

Lord Shen X Fenghuang Headcanons

*takes deep breath* These two were my 2nd most favorite kfp ship with Tipo ofc being my most favorite. I started shipping them bc of a few fanfics & became obsessed with them since! I can't really explain what got me to stil be fond of this ship for years, but it somehow clung to me. It's the second rare pair I ever made fanart for. It's a shame that I could only find one Shenhuang fanart tho. At least I have the skills to do it now!

How slow is this slow burn? World's largest burning candle slow. Seriously, you have two stubborn deranged tsunderes who are heavily deprived of love & affection. There is no love at first sight between them. It's more like love at first fight-

They didn't like each other at first. Due to their unhinged, similar but clashing personalities, they initially fought and bicker frequently. These two could be mistaken for sworn enemies who despise each other for over a century. At one point, they have to separated from each other because they almost engaged in an altercation together.

Most of the time, whenever Shen is paired with someone (OC or canon), that someone submits to him and hey, ofc Shen would always want to be the dominant one in the relationship. However, Fenghuang would NOT take being beneath someone. This woman is a fierce free spirit who canonically destroyed & broke free from the owl-shaped cage that was built SPECIFICALLY JUST FOR HER (btw, Oogway built that cage). She can see right through Shen like he's crystal clear water in a glass.

Fenghuang will not put up with Shen's spoiled princely demeanor (which is why she gave him the nickname:"Prince."). In fact, she'll have the guts to call him out on his bs & put him in his place. She doesn't sugarcoat things, she delivers the truth on a cold silver platter. For sure Shen's ego took a massive hit like a tsunami due to being humbled for the first time.

However, Fenghuang is not without her own faults or blindspots. In can on, she lived in a mountain in isolation (I'm surprised she didn't go cuckoo) for who knows how long because she picked a fight with her own master (Oogway) & is too cowardly to face him again. Despite being humbled by Fenghuang, Shen is highly perceptive. So much so, he can easily pick up on Fenghuang's own arrogance & can swiftly knock her off her own high horse with one kick at the right opportunity.

They never publicly announced that they're dating. In fact, it took quite a while for their loved ones & those acquainted with them to realize they're dating due to being used to witnessing the two being at each other's throats. Most of their interactions consists of them quarrel like an old married couple. Understandably, it's easy for outsiders to see this as a toxic relationship. Despite displaying zero PDA, they prefer to be intimate in private.

Again with Shen being observant, he can easily take note of what Fenghuang likes & dislikes. However, the first time he tried picking out a gift for Fenghuang, he's in complete shambles due to being worried about whether or not she'll like & accept the gift. Doesn't help the fact that Fenghuang wouldn't be easily swayed by flashy gifts & gestures and that she generally is difficult to impress.

Has to be an accessory since he doesn't know her measurements (yet). Aha! This silver peony hairpin! No, not her favorite flower. Perhaps this tree branch hairpin? *shakes head* Unimpressive. Maybe this sun hairpin instead? *groans as he chucks the 30th hairpin in the discard pile*

One of their favorite things to do together is training. As they got closer, the sexual tension between them rises like champagne in a bottle with the cap eventually popping off like a rocket. Both wouldn't outright say it out loud, but they do admire each other's skills & abilities in combat. Shen is mesmerized by Fenghuang's flash flight speed & precise agility with her feather knives. In return, Fenghuang is captivated by the deadly elegance of Shen's tail feathers & use of his guan dao. It's a gradual build up to accept each other's feedback for their own skill sets.

In due course, they come to love playing with knives together...

Their favorite date locations are almost anywhere with little to no people. Private restaurant reservations, vip theatre seat access and flights across the vast skies (Fenghuang usually carries Shen). It's almost a 50/50 on who plans the dates. It took a while for Shen to not get carried away with overly grand gestures since he's an all or nothing type of person. In comparison, Fenghuang is more casual.

Without a doubt, these two love taking hot baths together. The bath will be smelling like a perfume shop due to fragrances & bath products they'll use & borrow from each other. They'll be conversing with one another as they wash each other's backs & tail feathers. The first time Shen saw Fenghuang drenched in water, he let out a howl of laughter before being splashed with water by her.

Do they get intimate during this time? Of course do! How intimate? That...will be left to your own imagination ;).

Who's more clingy than the other? Shen for sure. He's more demanding for attention than Fenghuang is. If he wants affection, he wants it now. Whenever he finds Fenghuang alone & he's certain that no one else is around, he'll walk up to her & wrap his wings around her. He loves it whenever Fenghaung strokes his neck gently.

Sometimes, Fenghuang is in need of attention too. Whenever Fenghuang has hunger for affection, she'll silently cling onto one of Shen's wings & nuzzle her head on his shoudler. She's quite pleased when Shen strokes her head tenderly as a response.

Since they are both birds, they can't really kiss like how most other animals could. As an alternative, they'll gently nuzzle their beaks in target areas. Shen's favorite area is his neck while Fenghuang prefers the upper back.

Who opened up to the other first? Fenghuang since she isn't as stubborn as Shen. As I said before, they despised each other at he beginning. As time goes on, they'll slowly come to realize that they don't differ much in character & empathize with each other's struggles & flaws. They have each other question their own character & motives. They test each other in a way no one else ever could. They gradually came to understand each other in a way not perceivable by others.

They almost broke up at one point. Yet, strangely, their psyches synchronize together in a strange but alluring pattern. Once they both do their own self-reflection & come to a great understanding, their love will become unbreakable like the blades they wield. Even though they never say:"I love you." to each other, they

[therobotmonster]

What do you get when the 6 Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman decide to pull a Brady Bunch and a Johnny Quest at the same time?

You Get the Bionic Six.

Impossible to find streaming in high quality anyplace, but a bunch of eps in pretty decent quality hit archive.org.

Decent animation, an earworm themesong that I am so frightened of I muted it while taking its screenshots. The Bionic Six is a lost 80s gem. Not like, a diamond or a sapphire, but like, at the very least a citrine, or a really nice tiger eye that's all polished up in a riverbed? Anyhow...

I joke about the premise. It's not Steve Austin, it's Jack Bennett. It's not Jaime Sommers, it's Helen Bennett. It was a serial number filing but it absolutely is someone's 6MDM and Bionic Woman fanfic where they got married and both had and adopted a bunch of bionic kids.

The story, however, involves Jack (already bionic) and his family getting irradiated by an alien spaceship (the 80s was a hell of a drug) in the Himalayas, with the family going comatose except for Jack, thus requiring the family's upgrades.

This explains why a bunch of children would be turned into cyborgs, but it does not explain why those upgrades came with superpowers. That seems to be down to the grandpa-figure of the group, Professor Dr. Amadeus Sharp Ph.D, which, I gotta say, that's a chef's kiss cartoon character name right there.

Putting both Professor and Doctor in front of your name is exactly what I'd expect from a guy that's like "these children are comatose... I think I'll give that one the magnetic repulsors..."

As for the family proper, you've got Bionic-1/Jack Bennet, the literal team dad who suspiciously has all the bionic powers you'd expect from Steve Austin, with a touch of Reed Richards gray on the temples.

You have, ahem, Mother-1/Helen Bennett, who doesn't have the Bionic woman's powers because they'd be redundant. But she is a lady in an 80s team cartoon so she's got... say it with me folks... psychic abilities!

Also, if I had a nickel for every brunette be-bobcuted supermilf in a red jumpsuit named Helen I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it does lead to some obvious crossover concepts that the r34 community have thus far failed to provide. I'd commission something but, as established, I've only got the two nickels.

She also stands out by having a codename that is calculated to make villains deeply uncomfortable with using it, thus putting them on the back-foot. Just takes every deathtrap situation to a weird place.

Their (at least initially) biological children, Sport-1/Eric Bennett and Rock-1/Meg Bennett establish the pattern of there being a bionic kid for every interest. Sport-1 has magnetic attraction-repulsion powers, and uses lamposts like baseball bats all day, every day.

Rock-1 was literally designed to be cartoon Cyndi Lauper and has speakers built into her shoulders for sonic attacks. She is also super-speed runs the fastest.

IQ/J.D. Corey is adopted, and doesn't do the normal naming convention. He's an unusual character in 80s toon terms, as he's both the smartest member of the team (per the codename) but also has the most powerful super-strength. You don't get the smart AND strong combo that often, and you'd expect the Sport-1 to be physically strongest but it seems he's more the Mario of the team.

Karate-1/Bunjiro "Bunji" Tsukahara is a foster kid who got dragged into all of this, and has both the most greatly enhanced super-agility and also actually knows how to fight without powers.

They also have a robot ape named F.L.U.F.F.I. who wasn't in every episode.

The story structure is an 80s toyvertoon take on Johnny Quest, with the whole family having toyetic super-powers and vehicles, and instead of a cavalcade of one-off baddies, you get a recurrent cast lead by Dr. Scarab, who is Sharp's brother, and is after Sharp's superior bionic knowledge.

Mad science, not even once.

I have vague memories of Scarab's pursuit of 'trionic' technology, which assumed both that the 'bi' in bionic was for 'two' (reasonably understandable assumption) and that that if two was good, three was logically better, while never really establishing what third thing was being mixed in (baffling even to my childhood self).

On top of his drone robots, called "Cyphrons" (not Cylons, Battlestar Galactica Lawyers, cyphrons), Scarab had a host of modified goons, most of whom where combinations of dumb, strong, and ugly.

The main stand out being Madame-O, who is a cartoon femme fatale of the classic variety, who punctuates her sentences with 'Darling', uses a harp to shoot energy blasts, and can disguise herself as other people, because why be good at one thing when you can be confusing at several?

The animation is pretty good for the time period (It was a TMS animated show!) and it has that weird mix of self-aware and totally earnest that makes 80s cartoons fun.

It was, like most of them, an advertisement for action figures. In this case from LJN, the gimmick of which was they were G.I.Joes that were mostly made of die cast metal. A lot of the characters were pretty chunky, to the point that a FLUFFI could be bring down an assailant if you chucked it at 'em just right.

Oh, and the whole family could join hands to pull of Deus Ex Machina bullshit. It's a trip.

Go watch ya some cartoons.

[that-random-outsider]

Glassheart Arcane Au Pt.1

Red and Chloe have lived on opposite sides of their worlds for as long as she'd known. Red grew up in Wonderland oppressed and trampled over her entire life by those in Auradon. She could never know the whites and golds of the people on the other side of the Rabbit whole , but she knew that she hated them. They looked down on her people, her home, as if they were nothing. And Red could not bare it. Even so, Red knew how to survive there, she had her mother, she had Maddox, she had enough. At least that was Until it was all taken from her.

One day when Red, Maddox, and Chester managed to sneak into Auradon for a job everything went wrong. Chester had always been smaller than Red, slim and lanky, his body not built for the speed and agility Red and Maddox were used to, but he wanted to help. He wanted to be there for his friend, for his sister. So they manage to barely sneak into their targeted estate. The three raid the place stunned by just how much one person could have. Envy and resentment clutching at their hearts as they realize just how much the people of Auradon have, any remorse for their deeds they could've harbored fading from their thoughts.

That's when Chester finds the hex tech stones. He tries to grab a few of them but Chad starts banging on the door trying to get in to his estate. The three panic as realization grabs hold of them they try to sneak out without making a sound but Chester's clumsy and starts drops one of the stones as he tries to stuff it in his pocket. Red manages to pull him out of the apartment just as it explodes leaving both Chloe and Chad in shock and confusion. Red and her friends escape into their side of the Rabbit hole with their loot in tow as enforcers try to chase them down while Chad is trying to plead his case with Merlin and his father at what hex tech can do.

When Red makes it back to Wonderland it doesn't take long for people to recognize a score when they see one. A group of people manage to get the jump on them, trying to take the loot for themselves, but Red hands the bag the Chester and tells him to run. Red tries to fend off their attackers, allowing Chester time to escape, Maddox attempting to help any way he can but Chester's gangly limbs only take him so far. He ends up coming across a dead end, cornered with no feasible escape in sight so he does all that he can do and tosses the loot to the side wasting everything they worked for.

Red tries to stay calm ofcourse but after everything she’s just exhausted. She doesn't yell or get angry or argue she just ignores him for the rest of the day. She knew he wasn't ready, this was just as much her fault as his but still... Chester apologizes at least a thousand times but Red doesn't want to hear it. "You had one job" she argues heated at the lack of results despite everything they went through getting that bag of trinkets they were going be set for months! But still he was like a brother to hee she’d get over it. And Maddox knew it too.

When they returned home the lecture they received from Bridget was long. "We stay out of topside affairs" Red’s mother chided but Red was tired of it. "Come on, no one on Auradon is going hungry any time soon" Red argued but Bridget didn’t have time for her childish arguing. Red didn’t understand what she’d set into motion that day, that she’d be the inciting incident that would set Wonderland ablaze.

Before long the Auradon enforcers came searching for their pound of flesh lead faithfully by Charming. Exploding the entire block wasn't something that could so easily be ignored, all they needed was a name. Bridget of course refused to give up her only daughter, trying to find any way they could find a peaceful solution, but no. Auradon would scower Wonderland for as long as it took until they found Red and her friends and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Red wanted to fight back, to do more than just lay low while enforcers tore her home to pieces but Bridget shut her down every time. There ware no winners in war she’d tell her, but Red didn’t listen. It isn't until she realizes that it truly is a losing battle that she gives up hope completely. So Red decides the best thing she could do for her home is to turn herself in.

She sends the note to Charming telling him that she’d come willingly so long as they stayed out of Wonderland and waited patiently for the inevitables. Except it isn't Charming who opens the door but instead Bridget planning to take her place. She tells Red that she’d done good, but that it was time she face the music not her. Red was a good person she’d some day do great thing, and as her mom she was meant to protect her until then so she takes Red’s spot and goes willingly with the enforcers only to realize that it was a trap set by Adam.

Wonderland was becoming too Bold, too independent it was the only way he could think of to get them to stand down. So ofcourse Adam intercepts her prison transfer planning to cover up Bridget’s execution as an accident without a leader giving the people on Wonderland something to believe in they’d fall apart completely and fall back in line. Red of course finds out and goes after her with Maddox telling Chester to stay home but he swears he can help. But Red can't take that risk with her mother’s life on the line so she leaves him there and goes with Maddox to save her mom. Chester can't take the not knowing, the anxiety the fear, it tears him apart until he can't take it anymore. He comes up with a plan he remembers the explosion from earlier and thinks that maybe if he could create a distraction large enough they'd be saved.

He gets to the wearhouse and everything goes exactly as planned, Adam and his crew don't make it out, Bridget and Maddox manage to safely escape for the most part but Red is lost in the fire. Presumed dead by Bridget she decides to raise hell upon anyone and everyone who dared to align their self with topside, and Chester, guilt ridden and destroyed at the loss of the closest thing he had to a sister makes that very same vow.