#I PUT DOWN MY STYLUS FOR ONE SECOND TO BURY MY HEAD IN MY HANDS

[lordartsy]

2/10 - Naga's birthday coincides with me watching the finale of this show. I miss him already 🐍

[yacinthemorning]

Gundam Birdie

A Little Birdie

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Summary: Jimmy is a mobile suit pilot and the bad luck charm of his base whom the higher ups are done giving second chances to. It's the old beat-up relic Birdie he's been given or nothing. Lucky for him, the mechanic assigned to get her working is enthusiastic to help, but their friendship leads Jimmy back down roads he'd rather forget.

Ships: Jimmy & Tango (Platonic)

Warnings: War, death, violence, military, guns, fantasy politics, fantasy racism, trauma, alcohol, vomiting

There was something about the hangars that eased Jimmy’s heart. Realistically, they were the calm before the storm, and should have put the fear of the void into him, but he couldn’t help it. The echoes of clanking tools and pistons being tested. The scent of oil and burnt wires baked into the steel beams, the sight of people scrambling, heads buried in their tasks, ready to send machines into the field at the drop of the hat. In that environment, Jimmy faded into a shadow, an afterthought until launch, in the way at worst, a spare hand at best.

It almost made up for how wretchedly hot Earth was this time of year.

“You came back again, huh?” A bored voice drawled. 

Jimmy blinked away the stupor he’d lulled into, his neck cracking as he leaned forward out of the remains of his cockpit. The large gash down the shell of the once-pristine Birdie let him see without rising up completely where Martyn tapped his foot on the concrete floor. He didn’t even look up at Jimmy, eyes too busy with his tablet. “That I did.” Jimmy said, leaning against his console. Even if it could respond in its state, the Birdie was already drained. “Should I not have?” He joked.

“Do you want the funny answer or the actual answer?” Martyn finally glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

Jimmy didn’t need either. He wasn’t in the mood, and if he focused he could already hear the grumbling of the mechanics around him. ‘How on earth did he make it back in that?’ ‘Another one already?’ ‘We absolutely sure he isn’t trying to destroy our whole fleet?’ ‘At least it was one of those relics from the basement this time…’

‘Where’s the rest of the squad?’

He wiped the sweat collecting on his brow and shrugged. “What can I say, I specialize in running away.”

Martyn tsk’d him with his stylus. “Unfortunately for you, Blue, running away costs a fortune we aren’t authorized to spend. And might I remind you your debt to the EF is already high enough.”

“Oh, come on Martyn.” Jimmy whined. “Can’t you sweet talk Ren for me? Just this once?”

“Ren’s already stuck his neck out for your first three mobile suits.” They paused as the entire Birdie shifted, the platform below it dropping deep into the ground until Jimmy could heave himself over the edge and drop only a few feet. When he tried to throw his usual goofy grin at Martyn, though, the accountant just shook his head. “Look, Jim, you know Ren sympathises. His parents are Lunarian, he knows what you’re going through.” He sighed. “But you aren’t exactly returning the favour and-“

They were cut off once more as Jimmy jerked forward. The mechanic brushing past didn’t even bother with an apology. Jimmy’s gaze locked with their own disgusted glare as they walked off. Martyn leaned closer in, voice a harsh whisper. “- And you aren’t exactly doing a stellar job of making this all seem like a good idea to the nay-sayers.”

Jimmy laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Don’t be silly. What’s there to nay over about an experienced pilot, who’s an expert on the enemy, controlling a front-line mobile suit?”

Martyn gave him that tired look, frustration wrinkling his youthful face. “I think even if you weren’t a deserter that would be too flattering a description given your results so far. Do you know what it’s like just to convince someone to work with you?” A gesture towards the brutalized Birdie emphasized his words.

“Look, it’s not my fault that I’m sent into the trenches- “

“But it is your fault you keep coming back alone.”

Suddenly the dry summer air seemed like an ice bath. Jimmy was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to so bluntly state what was meant to go unspoken. He could feel the gaze of a nearby worker on his neck, hear the echo of a giggle from across the station. 

Martyn took a deep sigh, “I’m sorry Jim. There isn’t another one after this. This Birdie is your last chance. I can assign a specialist to the poor thing, but you have a shoestring budget to work with and if it ain’t operational by next launch then you're going to have to find somewhere else to complete your immigration assignment. That’s the good scenario where they let you go.”

He was screwed. He knew that the second he retreated from the skirmish. All Jimmy could do was agree and sign the papers Martyn put in front of him. When he left Jimmy turned back to the mobile suit and simply stared.

His fate was basically sealed. Jimmy had seen many a machine in his short lifetime. Maybe with a few months and top of the line care she could come back. The worst of it was superficial. But he knew from the struggle back to the checkpoint that the giant hole from a well-placed beam fried her internals. Its not as though Jimmy liked seeing the machines he’d dedicated his life to piloting in such a sorry state. He tried to take care of her just as much as the last half-a-dozen. Each of those multi-billion credit war machines were now rotting in landfills, though, and the prospects for this one were non-existent. 

Just the same as his former crewmates.

A whistle broke through his mulling. “You really weren’t gentle with her, were you?”

Jimmy spun on his heel, giving the newcomer an incredulous look. It was a mechanic, judging from the jumper, though it was red instead of the typical orange, and a black jean vest covered its upper half. Slightly shorter than Jimmy, but his messily swept back hair tried hard to compensate for it. The beginnings of wrinkles under his eyes gave away his greater age, and that the grin reaching ear to ear was probably a permanent fixture.

Most oddly his pupils were the deep red of Mercurian heritage.

He put out his hand, though he didn’t bother to take his eyes off the Birdie. “Name’s Tango. Been told I’m gonna be giving your mobile suit some personal TLC for the next couple weeks.” 

Jimmy squinted, calming the bubble of annoyance in his throat as he weakly shook Tango’s hand. “Jimmy.”

Now they were just treating him like a field of glass. That, or this guy was as much stuck with Jimmy as Jimmy was with him.

If he noticed Jimmy’s sudden tension, he didn’t care enough to take his eyes away from his assigned project. Rather, he seemed completely entranced by the busted heap. His grip fell away from Jimmy’s as almost an afterthought. It instead went to brush against the jagged metal of its shell, and dip in over the exposed reactor in its lower chest just below the cockpit. Jimmy winced. He really had been a hair’s breadth from blowing sky high.

“An MSF-71 Birdie, huh?” Tango practically cooed, like the museum piece was the coolest thing in the world. He moved on to its left arm, where the joint had been jammed by a piece of debris from the consulate Jimmy watched go up in flames. “And the frame’s in good shape besides what you’ve done to her. Man, they haven’t built one of these since…”

“The 36 EvO belt wars.” Jimmy supplied. Jimmy remembered seeing them on the news as a child, the complaints. Brand new and already being ditched for newer models of older fighters. They were made to be compact, light, easily transported with minimal fuel and speedy on the battlefield. What they actually were was incredibly prone to being taken out by the slightest bit of damage, and outpaced by sturdier suits with better propulsion systems. Always the first to go down on the battlefield, and the better mobile suits were screwed without their supporting flanks, so dragged their entire battalion with them.

Tango perked up, “Yeah, yeah! Didn’t even know we had any of these left. Oh, man.” He suddenly hauled himself right over the damage, scampering into the cockpit with his tablet. “The shoulder propulsion was removed and never replaced, though. Even if you’re sticking to land, that's a major disadvantage. And the frame’s got serious compatibility issues with these newer 95 mm barragers the EF’s so fond of slapping on everything. I’m surprised it didn’t straight up tear off the forearm.” He leaned back, a bit of awe in his gaze as it finally landed on Jimmy. “Dude, you’re a miracle worker to get this thing back this intact.”

When considering what that entailed that wasn’t all that high a praise, but it was the nicest thing someone had said to him in a while. Jimmy found himself soaking up the small bit of praise. He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Well, I’ve been doing basically nothing but pilot mobile suits for a decade now. I would hope I knew a few tricks.”

That actually sounded a bit pathetic when he said it out loud didn’t it? Tango just nodded excitedly, however, then pulled out his wrench. “Well, then, it’s your lucky day. Cause I’ve been doing basically nothing but repairing them for two. And this machine of yours, I think she’s got another shot if we crack our heads together.” He patted her side for emphasis.

Jimmy learned well, after his first suit went up in literal flames, not to get too attached to any mobile suit assigned to him. It wasn’t as though he had been very involved in the Birdie’s handling until now, either. There was still a part of him that became giddy, excited to see the poor old thing run again. He gave Tango a cautious smile back, holding out a hand to the mechanic to help him back down. “If you think so.”

“Oh, I know so.” Tango said, and Jimmy couldn’t help but believe him.

“Then what do you need me to do?”

-

“The main hurdle is our budget.” Tango said around a mouth full of burger. He tapped a sharpened nail against the schematics spread across the cafeteria table. “The right leg hydraulics, the main engine, the control system, and two of the thrusters all need full replacement thanks to those beams and the explosion you said you took. They ain’t big boys like some of the other frames, but they’ll need customization to fit such an old model.”

Jimmy nodded along, shoving another fry into his mouth. “And new guns. She needs something lighter on her joints.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Tango tapped away on his tablet. There was a long list of specs from the catalogues they were given to work with. “Normally I’d say ‘well that’s what laser cannons are for!’ But that’s definitely out of our price range. Besides just generally being expensive, I’m not sure your current reactor is strong enough to keep up with their energy needs, so we would have to get a new reactor too.”

Jimmy yanked one of the schematics out from the bottom of the pile. “And the Birdie’s frame is a weird class size for flanking, it’d need a specialty reactor on top of that.”

“Exactly!”

His chest warmed. Each new subject came with more and more bad news, but Jimmy hadn’t felt so hopeful in a long time. He leafed through the stack of dusty folders next to him, searching for the papers necessary to request test field time. A tablet was held out over his food tray, coming dangerously close to his coleslaw. Several potential lighter weight low-kick guns had been bookmarked, but so had some more unconventional weapons including a wire weapon. 

“She’s way too crushable and slow for direct melee combat, but I think a loadout like this might make your life exponentially better. A lot of these are going to have serious difficulty jabificating through even mid range armour, but a Birdie ain’t gonna be sent out alone to begin with.” Tango pulled it back slightly, a nervous quirk in his smile. “Though, they’d take some practice and strategy to make it work. You think you could do that?”

Jimmy gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll adapt.”

The cautious smile stretched into something more devious as he leaned in towards Jimmy to whisper. “Then I think I might have a way to shave some costs off our repairs, if you don’t mind a bit of dubious resourcing.”

Jimmy froze with a fry halfway into his mouth. Quickly he glanced around to make sure no one had heard the mechanic. “Tango, I’m on watch-“

“No, no, nothing that bad. I promise.” The blond waved off. “I just own my own scrapyard- well, it was a family ranch, but I had to sell the cattle off when I inherited the thing. Now the fields are full of spare bits and projects. I think I have these parts that just need a little spit and polish. That’ll save us a pretty penny, I reckon. We’ll just have to dig for them is all.” 

“Can we do that?” Jimmy asked incredulously. He was pretty sure if a personal collection of mobile suit parts just sitting out in the open on a ranch would get you shot for treason on Pluto.

Tango just winked. “Ren’ll look the other way, and Martyn won’t complain if it means our numbers are lower.”

“Then that’s fine by me.”

“You really came back again, Blue?” A harsh voice cut into the conversation. With a groan Jimmy turned his gaze away from a confused Tango as a gloved hand shoved against the back of his head. “Would you take the hint and kick the bucket already?” The pilot laughed, his two companions following suit.

Jimmy just shrugged. The laughter died, and when they realized they would get no reaction they grumbled and walked off. He waited until they were across the cafeteria before he let out a sigh, shaking his head, and turning back to the schematics. The energy from earlier had drained a bit, but he tried to bring it back with a friendly smile.

Tango still had an eye on the retreating pilots, claw scraping across his screen as his nose scrunched up. “Some people really got a sick sense of humour, huh.”

“You don’t have to pretend not to know.” Jimmy said. Tango flinched. With a sigh, Jimmy shook his head. “Even soldiers from other bases know about the Plutonian deserter who always comes back alone. Always finds the danger and always leaves everyone else to deal with it.”

“It’s only ‘deserter’ to the Plutonians. On this side it’s ‘asylum seeker’.” 

“With all due respect and appreciation, I don’t think I’ve met a crewmate who cared for the difference. When your reputation is having no loyalty, it doesn’t much matter what side you’re supposed to be on.”

“Doesn’t exactly do much to inspire loyalty to begin with, does it?” Tango mused, turning his attention to the last bite of his burger. He tapped the screen of his tablet. A feed came up, familiar to Jimmy but from a different angle. There was the Birdie, in formation with another mobile suit, before it split away from him right towards an enemy unit. It was muted, but Jimmy could still hear his own voice warning about a hidden patrol only he had spotted, and the shout he got back for daring to not follow. It would have cut off, just as the head of the suit was dissolved by an unseen laser cannon in the feed.

Jimmy’s stomach twisted at the sight of it occurring a second time. Why’d he have to pause it there? Tango scoffed. “I reviewed the footage during prep, you know. Not a fire alarm’s fault if people ignore it. It’s kinda hard to be a team player when your team is the smug idiots we got around here, who care more about where you came from than the war you’re both supposed to be fighting.”

“Don’t say something like that out loud.”

“But that’s what’s supposed to be so great about Earth, isn’t it?” Sarcasm laced his muffled voice. “S’why my old man came here, at least. ‘Everyone’s welcome, all those other planets are strict and exclusive. Come back to Earth for unending opportunity!’ Then they turn around on you the second you show up, even while you’re giving them your life.”

Jimmy had heard that all before from other immigrants. Not before he came here, as he did so with the official and doomed mission to break through the impenetrable Karman Defense as an enemy soldier, but he had heard their whispers after. The harsh line between the preached dream and enacted reality. It made no difference to Jimmy – It wasn’t Pluto and that’s all that really mattered – but he did empathize with those tricked into believing they would be more warmly welcomed.

   “So, you’re second generation?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something more appropriate, less likely to get them court martialled.

“No, but I was so young I might as well be.” Tango shrugged, the grin returning to him. “You know, it’s a bit chilly but there’s actual real food and jobs, so here I am.”

“Chi- This planet is absolutely boiling!” Jimmy melted against the table with whine. Tango cackled and reached over to muse his hair.

“We need to stick you in the cooler.”

“Genuinely, that sounds wonderful about now.” He admitted. “You deal with this summer thing every year?”

“Only in the temperate zones. Head south and you can experience it year-round on the equator.”

“I think not!”

They both laughed, and while it never returned to the high energy of before, the atmosphere slowly warmed again. Soon they were once more engrossed into plans for the Birdie. By the end of the day they had high hopes and a door-stopping stack of papers to drop on Martyn’s desk. But they didn’t separate yet. 

Outside of official work hours Tango dragged him off to discuss the grey area that was the parts in his scrapyard, and to spitball modifications that they most certainly would not get away with. It was quickly apparent that, unlike Jimmy, Tango was exactly where he wanted to be as far as dream jobs went. The man was a bonafide mobile suit nerd, and though Jimmy knew his stuff Tango quickly delved into things far outside Jimmy’s pay grade. 

The way he talked… Jimmy could tell he put it out of his mind what they were being used for and more so how they did it. Maybe not naïve or ignorant, but certainly not fully reconciled on the fact that his passion was war machines.

“Well, there’s plenty that are for construction and transportation…”

“But?”

“I mean, you’re not allowed to give a construction mobile suit an arm mounted laser.”

Yeah, he was certainly a little ridiculous. He was so excited to be given the clearance to do pretty much anything he wanted to Jimmy’s Birdie, though. The cogs of his brain were running faster than even his mouth could keep up with. So, Jimmy tried his best to keep up, listen to him ramble while he gently reminded him that even if you could get it to work, a cannon like that was very much illegal across the entire solar system .

“But think of how cool it would be! And I got it all worked out on how to get over the reactor hard cap-“

Jimmy let out a disbelieving laugh.

Part of Jimmy wanted to put a clock or something in front of Tango, see if he pulled it apart instinctively. Like some species of mechanic creature.

The two hardly noticed until both were being screamed at by superiors that their conversation carried them long past curfew. If Jimmy was honest, it was the first time he almost felt welcome on Earth, like he was more than not-even-tolerated. If at the end of these next few weeks they failed and Jimmy was given the boot, at least he would have one fond memory of the horrid base.

-

Martyn handed back Tango’s tablet with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, guys, but I just can’t get this approved. I even pulled in a favour to get the price down, but they said there’s no way they would okay this engine for a beat-up relic.”

 “They’re the ones that wanted the thing repaired in the first place!” Tango growled, glaring down at the rejection notice.

Jimmy clasped his hands together. “Martyn please. We’re so close to done and there’s only a few days left.”

“Even if I did pull off the miracle of the century and, like, saved the entire review board’s families from a burning roller coaster or something to magically get them on my side, there’s not way we could get it made and shipped here on time anyways.” He gave a sigh and shrug before he returned to his desk. “I got you so much. Your weird tripwire thingamajig – and dear lord Tango I don’t know what crypt you raided to even find that catalogue, do you know what a wild goose chase it was just to find the company that made it? But there really is no more I can do. You’re well out of luck and credit at this point. I’m not even sure if you could get a bottom-line engine, in fact. I really am sorry, but you’ll have to find another solution.”

Jimmy’s heart sank. 

“… Okay.” Tango said.

Both other men turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What.” Jimmy asked flatly.

“Okay.” Tango repeated, hands up in surrender before one hooked around Jimmy’s elbow. “We get it, you won. We’ll rub our noggins together and think of something else to get her up and running. Sorry for bothering you.”

Martyn had never looked more suspicious but nodded anyways. The two men left the accountant’s office and back out towards the hangars.

“Is that really it?” Jimmy asked desperately. In the last two weeks they had done so much work on his Birdie. Literal blood, tears, and sweat were spent to get her to the point she was now at. “What are we going to do?”

“Calm down, bird boy.” Tango patted his arm, leaning into him. “I got a plan.”

“A plan?” It was then Jimmy realized they were not heading towards the mobile suit hangar at all, but towards the trucks. He gave Tango a wary side eye. “What are you planning?”

“We’re taking a little trip to town.” Was all Tango said. Soon enough they were in the biggest truck they could get approved for use and being waved through the checkpoint. Jimmy fiddled nervously with the buttons of his uniform, eyes darting about for any sign they had been followed. Tango? Tango was as cool as a cucumber, humming along to the radio as he slipped on the bright red glasses he always wore off-base. Where he kept them Jimmy had yet to figure out. The song slowly died out and gave way to the news.

“Reports have revealed that the rogue freighter that passed the Lunar Sanctuary last week is housing over two hundred Plutonian refugees and is now currently en route to Earth. Sanctuary has turned them away due to overcrowding and famine amongst their own citizens.” 

“Bunch of bleeding hearts up there, they don’t even have space anymore.” Tango joked. “They’re just going to find the other end of the same war if they drop here, though.”

Jimmy nodded mindlessly, watching the farmlands. “Cow.” He muttered mostly to himself as they past a field of black and white dairy cattle.

“President Xisuma has had calls from both sides arguing whether to grant the large group their asylum request. Individuals close to the president, however, report that he is leaning towards approval. The president’s opposition have started to call him out, “President Xisuma’s approved six other groups from Pluto in as many months.” Says one party leader. “He seems determined to let anyone bypass our immigration process entirely if they show up with no shoes and a sob story. By the end of the year Pluto won’t even have to invade, their whole population will be on Earth and aiding the rebels to overthrow the EF.” Mobile suits posted on the Karman Defense are already mobilizing to intercept days before their arrival.”

Tango shook his head. “As on top of things as ever up there.”

“Hard to hide in open space.” Jimmy pointed out. He put his elbow up on the window, palming his chin. “There’s a reason it’s impenetrable despite how thin they’re spread.”

“So how did you get through?” The red glasses fell down Tango’s nose as he tilted his head. “I woulda thought it was shoot on sight for an enemy mobile suit.”

 Jimmy felt a shudder down his spine. “It was.” The days Jimmy spent begging for mercy were not memories he enjoyed recalling. He was glad they had not invaded his dreams much, drowned out by other memories not as dramatic but worse in their own ways. “I’m not entirely sure how I managed, to be honest. Dumb luck I survived long enough to get a word in on a good day I suppose. My suit certainly didn’t.” He blinked out at the field where a gangly roan creature pranced along the fence. “Horse…”

A hand came up to his shoulder and rubbed comfortingly. “You must love piloting to go through the trouble of becoming one again after all that.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Not really. But it’s all I’m good at. Well, I thought I was.”

“Hey, planet-side warfare’s nothing like space warfare. I mean neither are good, and I’ve never been in either, but you have to be decent for Pluto to send you all the way to Earth to try and break through the KD.”

A snort escaped Jimmy. He wished it was that cool. “No one else wanted to go on a suicide mission. I’m just the sucker who volunteered… cows.” They were brown this time. Beef cattle. They were almost there.

“We’re here.” The truck pulled up to a gated dirt road. Trees lined the perimeter but far down the path Jimmy could already see the ruddy roof of an old farmhouse. Still, the driveway was long, through acres and acres of overgrown fields, dotted with masses. Some had tarps thrown over them, but other heaps we exposed to the elements, rust creeping into their metal. Jimmy had come here with Tango a few times in the past weeks for some spare parts. His nerves returned, as they pulled to a stop and hopped out. Those were all small bits and bobs, not a full engine.

Tango rambled aloud as he went towards the old red bar. “I thiiink I got something similar to what we wanted out in the north field, but if that doesn’t work I know for a fact there’s another engine just out back. It’d need a lot of modifications to work, though, so I wanna check for the other one first.”

Jimmy helped push the doors wide open and hook up a trailer to an old green tractor. Tango was happy to throw the keys to him and sit on the back, directing him towards their quarry with one arm while the other was slung over the back of the seat.

It was one of his big finds. The entire upper half of a mobile suit was on top of several plastic tarps with several more nailed down over top. It didn’t stop rainwater from pooling under completely, but it went a long way to preserving the important parts. An hour later they had it cracked open and the engine hauled up with pulleys and make-shift cranes.

“This is definitely it. Look at that, those are the exact cylinders on the one we were gonna buy!” Tango squealed, patting the piece of machinery like it was a good dog. Jimmy chuckled to himself as he watched, listened to the engineer part of Tango’s brain take over control of his mouth. Two more hours later the engine was confirmed okay, wrapped up, hauled back to the house, and set inside the truck.

Jimmy relaxed into the rocking chair on Tango’s porch, gazing out at the mess of a ranch fondly. It almost looked like the various vehicles were their own sort of creature being grazed in the fields. Even overgrown the land had its charm. Certainly green grass and bushy oaks were a far cry from the cold landscapes of Pluto.

The porch door was thrown open, Tango shimmying through with a big grin, a bigger platter, and a pitcher of ice-tea. “Afraid I don’t have much in the fridge, so I hope you don’t mind frozen wings.”

“Not at all.” Jimmy replied, clearing some of the tools they’d left out on the table to give the blond room to place his haul. He’d changed fully now, into an oversized red sweater with a fire hazard symbol across the front – a prized possession, Jimmy had learned – paired with well-worn grey jeans and old runners.  All of Jimmy’s casual clothing was back at the barracks, but he’d relieved himself of the stuffy uniform coat and heavy boots for a loaned pair of outdoor slippers.

Tango collapsed into the other rocking chair while Jimmy poured the drinks. The engineer took a glance at the glasses and smirked, reaching behind him to pull out a half-empty bottle of rum. “Care for a kick?”

Jimmy raised his eyebrow, lip twisting disapprovingly, before he readily held out his glass across the table to let Tango pour as much as he liked into the drink. Probably a mistake. He got a chuckle, and far more alcohol than he really bargained for. Hopefully it would be out of his system before they returned…

“I gotta say.” Tango sighed, settling into his chair for good now. “Whenever I’m out here, I think I get it.”

“Get what?” Jimmy mumbled past a cautious sip. He jerked back slightly. Definitely way too strong.

A hand gestured out towards the ranch, glowing in the evening sun. “Why everyone is always trying to come to Earth. Out here where there’s no one to bother you, it's beautiful. There’s so much space, so many colours, so much time. Never really appreciated it much as a kid.”

Jimmy smiled. “Yeah.” His eyes fell closed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair for once. The smell of mediocre food and too much rum mingled with the distant rustle of leaves and crickets. And he wondered how he ever managed without this, ever thought the hangar was a refuge from the world when this existed only a few miles down the road…

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. The wings were gone, thankfully taking the brunt of the rum. The sky had turned red before he had even noticed. He sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “We need to get back soon.” 

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?” Where had he put his boots?

“Why do you pilot?”

He paused, turning back to Tango who was staring at him from his chair. His arms were folded behind his head, glasses perched precariously on his nose, but his gaze carried an intensity greater than Jimmy had ever seen in their brief time together. 

He looked away. “It’s all I know how to do. I don’t have any other skills. So I do this.”

“Liar.”

“Wha-” Jimmy spun back around incredulously. “What’d you say?”

Tango’s glare felt like it was looking right into his soul. “Liar. I’ve seen all sorts of pilots in my time, Jimbo. People who do it for the paycheck, creeps who just want the means to kill. I’ve seen the strangest pilots around, but you… I’ve seen how you are around that Birdie. Like you’re asking something from it. You aren’t some nine-to-fiver about it. You know so much about mobile suits-“

“Not as much as you.”

“But more than most, more than even other pilots!” Tango insisted. “More than you just pick up from work. Be honest, why do you do it? Why did you take up piloting in the first place?”

Jimmy sucked in a breath. Did he know how painful the memories he was asking Jimmy to recall were? Why did he need to know to begin with? The air was cooling rapidly with the setting sun. Tango patiently waited, no intent to let the question go.

Stupid words he should have never said echoed in the back of his mind. If I don’t do something, nothing will change.

With a shaky voice and glazed eyes, Jimmy replied. “I wanted… There was someone- people, that I wanted to help.”

“And piloting a mobile suit was how you decided to help?” Tango’s voice had gone almost giddy, leaning forward in his rocking chair.

Jimmy reluctantly nodded. His fists clenched tightly against his shirt. “No one else would.”

Tango stared for another long moment. Then, a grin broke across his face. He reached over and grabbed Jimmy’s nearest hand before bringing it up close to his mouth like he could whisper a secret into it. “… There’s something special I want to ask.”

Jimmy hesitated, but eventually he gave his mechanic a consenting grunt. 

“Have you ever heard of a gundam frame?”

-

Tango punched in a code onto the lock of an iron vault-like door. It whirled to life, slowly easing itself open. Jimmy could still hear the blood pumping through his ears overtop of it. On the other side was a black, echoing void. Tango took one more assuring glance behind him to Jimmy then walked straight into the darkness. Jimmy’s legs shook, but he forced himself forward.

Just as he entered the void there was the sound of a heavy switch being flipped, and light blindingly filled the room. Jimmy had to squint, hand raised to block out the harsh fluorescent lights until he could get his bearings. He could hear Tango fast walk past him, the steps echoing infinitely into what must have been an enormous room.

When he finally dropped his hand the first thing he was greeted with was an enormous metal face. Jimmy felt himself stop breathing. A mobile suit, but not just any. It stood eighteen meters tall, a whole third taller than the Birdie, and most of it an unpainted grey, though Jimmy could see chips of yellow and blue left here and there. Its face was strikingly human compared to most other frames, looking much like a pilot wearing a mask itself, except for a sharp protrusion along its brow. It was too pointed to resemble the bill of a helmet, more like the beak of a bird, and in some small way reminded him of the Birdie’s profile. Despite that, it was otherwise unlike any mobile suit Jimmy had ever seen.

In front of them was a gundam. 

… And it was encased in a giant bunker under Tango’s farmhouse.

Jimmy jerked his head towards the mechanic, who was messing with a control panel to bring everything to life. Looking around, the bunker lacked much of the professional equipment of the base, and even the mobile suit station looked almost cobbled. The corners were filled with more spare parts like the fields above, gutted and cannibalized and left under tossed-over tarps to wait for further disassembling. While the gundam itself was clearly old, its various parts were a mix of ages.

“Have you…” Jimmy swallowed. “Have you been repairing it?”

An enormous mischievous smirk stretched across Tango’s face. “Me, and my old man before me.” His hand found Jimmy’s shoulder as he approached the consoles, holding the stunned pilot stable, and gazed affectionately up at the mobile suit. They found themselves in a lift, slowly raising them up to its chest. “He came here two years before us to prepare the farm. While he was digging he found something peculiar. It took most of my childhood for us to dig this out. Lot grander father-son project than some old car, eh?”

“I’ll say.” Jimmy’s voice came out breathy and shaking. His hand brushed against its body as they came to a stop, to see if it was truly real. It suddenly jerked into motion, chest pulling open until its cockpit was fully revealed. 

Tango took Jimmy’s hand and gently guided him inside the frame. “You thought your Birdie was old? This baby’s straight out of the Three-Year War!” He spoke fast, giddy as a kid in a candy store. “It’s almost fully functional, too, with all the repairs me and pa did. The only problem is… Well…”

Tango nudged his head towards the main console, guiding Jimmy’s hand towards it. Confused and more than a bit terrified, Jimmy’s hand hesitantly grazed across the dusty screen. It suddenly illuminated, and like a chain reaction so did the rest of the cockpit. The buzz of its reactor surged down Jimmy’s spine. Beneath his fingertips displayed a start up screen, system information pouring in too fast for Jimmy to read, except one piece. A name.

“XXS Gundam…” He muttered as it appeared. “Alpha-13… Canary?”

His hand pulled away as he looked to Tango for answers. The mechanic stared down at the console with breathless awe, before that same look was turned on Jimmy.

The pilot jumped at the elated shriek that escaped Tango as he wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder. “Look at that! She likes you! You really got her to respond!”

“Wh- What?”

“All this time neither me nor my pa could get her to wake up, but I knew it. I knew she’d like you! Canary, huh? I don’t think I’ve heard-”

“What are you talking about?” Jimmy squeaked. “What do you mean she likes me?”

Tango finally paused, though he could not wipe the smile off his face. “Have you ever heard of ‘the ghost in the machine’?”

Jimmy hesitated, then nodded. “I… Think so?” 

“They say there’s one in every gundam frame, that they have a mind of their own. Not just anyone can pilot a gundam, only someone they choose. I know, I know! It sounds like superstitious mumbo jumbo, but we tried over and over to get her to respond to us. We never got nothing! But now- Jimmy.” Tango’s eyes widened once again in awe. “You got her to wake up. She likes you .”

Jimmy had no idea what to do with that information.

-

“So what now?”

They’d switched back into their proper uniforms, finished tying down the engine to the truck, and started back towards the base.

“What do you mean?” Tango asked, a chipperness to his voice that told Jimmy he knew exactly what the pilot meant.

Jimmy pouted. “Tango, you have the Mona Lisa of war machines in your basement and according to you it apparently ‘likes me’. What does that mean, what do we do? Are you going to tell the base? How illegal is it?”

“Shoot, that might be a good point.” He said, still in that tone. He didn’t elaborate.

Jimmy puffed up his cheeks. “A good point! You’re bloody right it’s a good point! So what do we do now?”

Tango hummed, making a show of tapping his chin. “Right now? Head back to base and get some shut eye. We gotta install this engine into your Birdie tomorrow morning, after all.”

“Tango-”

“It’s all fine, Jimmy!” He grinned. “We’ll come back out and do some more tests once you got your job secure.”

“More tests? On our own?”

“If we tell them about Canary right now then they’ll stompy-stompy their way in and take her away. Then neither of us will see her again. You really want that?”

“Tango I can’t pilot a gundam, I’m about to lose my ability to pilot at all.”

“You really gonna let someone else pilot your gundam?”

“It’s not mine , and you said it can choose a pilot for itself.”

“Well I chose you, and she agreed. So that’s that. I ain’t letting no one else pilot her.”

Jimmy wanted to argue but it died in his throat, unsure what he could possibly say. He leaned back in his seat instead and let out a deep sigh. “You’re something else, Tango.”

A maniacal giggle escaped the engineer. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile.

-

Martyn turned off his tablet. “Your machine’s been approved for duty.”

Jimmy and Tango cheered and high fived, a display that got them an eye roll from Martyn. Ren leaned over his desk with a chuckle. “Congratulations, my dudes. You're back in service! I’ll get you scheduled for a few tests and local missions as soon as possible.” 

“Thanks, Ren.” Jimmy said as sincerely as he could. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

The director just waved it off, but Martyn raised an eyebrow. The two higher-ups exchanged a glance before Ren spoke up. “Actually, there was one more thing. A caveat of sorts.”

“This is still your last mobile suit.” Martyn continued for him. “If you bust this one up you’ll be put on standby again until it’s repaired, or let go. We would prefer you to exercise more caution than you have been, regardless, but understand that your situation is still precarious, Jim.”

“I… understand.” Jimmy bowed slightly. “I’ll do my best to be careful.”

Martyn snorted, shaking his head. “Well, now, we can’t exactly trust that after your track record, now can we, Ren?”

“No.” Ren propped his chin up on his hands with a smirk. “No, we most certainly cannot, Martyn.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, a stone weighing down his gut. “What-”

“So, Tango.” Ren didn’t let him speak. All eyes turned to the mechanic, who flinched at suddenly being the centre of attention. He dumbly pointed to himself, to which Ren nodded. “Since you did so well once already, we’ve decided to permanently assign you to the upkeep of Jimmy’s Birdie.”

“Lord knows the poor thing’ll need it.” Martyn muttered.

Tango blinked, then blinked again, then turned to Jimmy who was just as shocked. The taller shuffled his feet nervously and stuck out his hand with a small smile. “Um, well, if you’re okay with it, I’d certainly love to keep working on her with you.”

Tango grabbed his hand with a bit too much force and shook it enthusiastically. “I’ll absolutely be your mechanic, of course!” 

Ren clapped. “That’s great! Cause you didn’t actually have a choice. We’ve already done all the paperwork, you see. So, it’d be a real bummer if not.”

“Jumped the gun a bit on that one.”

The four men all had a laugh before Ren started going into what it all entailed. Jimmy couldn’t quite fully listen. His chest swelled with warmth, mind buzzing with excitement. For once he felt almost eager to get back on the field, to put what they had made to the test. He snuck a glance to Tango, who gave him a thumbs up and huge grin- he was just as excited. And for a brief moment Jimmy thought perhaps things were finally looking up, that maybe he could not only survive, but thrive.

-

Jimmy leaned back in his Birdie’s seat, taking in a deep, calming breath.

“Excited?”

He let out a squawk at the voice almost right in his ear. “You trying to scare the life out of me?”

Tango quirked an apologetic grin for only a half second before shoving his tablet in Jimmy’s face. “Ran a few extra tests and compared them to the last week’s worth of missions, since you got here so early. She’s all ready to go.” His head tilted in amusement. “Must be nice to finally get off-base with her again.”

“It’s just a patrol.” Jimmy insisted, though his fingers vibrated with too much energy.

“You probably like those, though, right?” 

“… It is better than just glorified tests.”

They both let out a small laugh. Tango reached over and ruffled his hair, patted the side of the cockpit, then pushed off to climb back down and start up the launch. They exchanged a thumbs up, everything ready on both ends, and the machine whirled to life around Jimmy.

The seal closed. Screens lit up at the same moment, allowing Jimmy to see out at all angles. Each system slowly came online while he adjusted their settings and conditions. Finally, he slipped on his helmet – a far cry from procedure for space flight where he would be yelled at for not already dawning the obnoxious thing by the time he reached his mobile suit. Really, on land he didn’t need it at all, but it was a comfort.

As soon as he did Tango’s voice, distorted by the crackle of radio waves, once again filled his ears. “Hey, by the way.” Jimmy could hear his grin. “Got the whole long weekend off. Mercurian holiday. When you’re done with your patrol you should come out to the ranch and celebrate with me.”

More Tango code for ‘let me talk your ear off about gundams as I try to convince you to crawl into one’ . There hadn’t been a day in the last week he didn’t ask, with varying subtlety. Jimmy shook his head, huffing into his mic. It swiftly transformed into a proper frown as a thought occurred to him. “Hang on, why’re you still here this morning, then?”

“I wasn’t gonna miss my little buddy’s first real mission launch!” He replied incredulously.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. Of course. “Yep, my very first mission in ten whole years.”

 “Ahahaha. Get out of here. And bring both of you home intact this time, why don’tcha?”

“Yes, dear.” Jimmy said with a snicker. “See ya.”

The comm clicked off, replaced by a robotic voice that matched to the text on a side screen narrating each step of the launch. Birdie rattled beneath him as it was moved into place. Hangar doors opened, the path was cleared out, and the clasps that kept his Birdie in place released. Jimmy pushed forward slowly, making sure all systems were warmed up.

Across the runway two mobile weapons and a suit, a Gorgon II Custom, waited already. Three connections linked to his Birdie.

“Took you long enough!” Cleo said, the Gorgon’s signal lighting up. “I was about to break out some tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely right now, actually, and I’m pretty sure you’re here early.” Jimmy replied. “But sorry.”

She turned her Gorgon around and started up propulsion towards the north Gate. “Just don’t fall behind on the patrol or I’ll ditch all of you.”

“Sure thing.” His face pulled into a frown. He’d almost forgotten.

“Then let’s get this over with, babysitting you is way too beneath my pay grade.” Was the last thing she said before she rocketed off.

One of the mobile weapons Jimmy wasn’t familiar with snickered through the comms. “She’s just salty about her punishment.”

“Maybe she should have thought of that before she went totally berserk in Hermiton.”

Jimmy shuddered. The images past around of the incident were damning, even if he never quite got the details. He’d not worked with her much at all in the year he had been on earth, but he heard things. One of the EF’s current longest lasting pilots, a talented one at that, able to pilot anything given to her, who nevertheless somehow had a combat streak about as victorious as Jimmy’s own. 

Until Hermiton, that was. More than a little hesitantly, he followed after the Gorgon. 

A half hour later they reached the border and began their patrol proper. Jimmy flipped on the autopilot, linking onto Cleo to test if it was functional again. In the meantime, he pulled up their route on his main screen. They’d be back by 10:00 if they did as they should. A smile crept onto Jimmy’s face as he examined the last leg of the route. They’d be close enough to Tango’s ranch that Jimmy might even be able to see it. Maybe he could take a picture for the mechanic. Knowing him he already knew they were coming and had his own camera set up. They could exchange them once Jimmy went home.

“Eyes open, Blue.” Cleo said. “You’re drifting.”

“Sorry.” He quickly snapped autopilot off again and flipped his cameras out fully. As soon as he did so the detection systems pinged. Up in the skies something descended from space. Zooming in, it was a long cargo ship. He nearly bit his tongue. Jimmy didn’t need the ID tags to recognize a Plutonian craft. “South-East, in the stratosphere, there’s a Plutonian ship.” He called.

 There was a brief silence as the other three searched. “Oh, that?” Cleo replied. “Didn’t you hear the news? Those Plutonian refugees are touching down today. They must have just descended through the KD.”

“Look at that, Blue. Soon we’ll have a whole troupe of runaways for you to cry with.” The first mobile weapon sneered. Jimmy tightened his grip on his controls, keeping his lips sealed as they continued on. 

An annoyed grunt escaped Cleo. “Focus on the mission!”

“Relax, Cleo, it’s just a patrol.”

“I don’t care if it’s wiping your arse. You will concentrate on the mission or get left behind.”

Jimmy, lowered their volume, focused on the descending ship instead. It was shockingly close. He was vaguely aware of the spaceport it must be landing at. No one had mentioned to him that they would be touching down in the vicinity, though. As rudely as it was said, there was a small part of Jimmy that warmed at the thought of more Plutonians being nearby, at least for a while. Maybe he could go and ask…

“Blue!” Cleo’s shout broke through his mulling. “You’re drifting again!”

“Sorry.” He squeaked and turned his attention back to the route.

Then the screen went white. Jimmy blinked, got as far as opening his mouth to alert Cleo before the ground began to rumble. His Birdie shook, then nearly toppled over as a blast punched into the patrol. His head smacked into the side of his chair, and the rumble of the metal machine drown out the mobile weapon pilots’ shouts. Two more barrages hit one after another, until Jimmy’s whole body felt scrambled.

Everything slowly settled around them, more voices joining in on the shouting both from their squad and base. Jimmy reoriented himself and his cameras. There, on the horizon they were just gazing at, were three enormous plumes of smoke. His comm squealed painfully, forcing his attention on readjusting it.

“-spaceport, reroute immediately!” An operator shouted.

“On it!” He heard Cleo say back, already turning.  Jimmy and the mobile weapons followed soon after. The plumes expanded as they approached, smaller explosions joining in. Across the tarmac was the scattered remains of the ship, the station behind it completely crumbled. Staff and refugees alike darted around, confused and scared. Some other mobile weapons were already there, firing in on the ship. Out from within its haul rolled out mobile weapons of their own, far more familiar to Jimmy, and began to fire back. Stray beams and bullets were going everywhere, unsure who was enemy in the maze of smoke and panic.

Part of the ship where a dozen refugees hid lilted forward. A sickening series of metallic pops filled the air. Jimmy darted his Birdie forward, propelling its foot into a spin to slide around the screaming group and stretched her arms out wide. The wall finally collapsed, smashing into Birdie’s back. Jimmy was jerked forward in his seat, and he could hear the poor mobile suit’s brand-new light armor crunch under the wall’s weight.

There was no time to worry about that, though. He flipped on his speakers and shouted, “Evacuate the premises, now!” The terrified group hesitated at first, but two soon took charge and the rest followed them like a herd to the edge of the tarmac where others were gathering.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shouted Cleo as she rolled the Gorgon up beside him and lifted the wall with ease. “You’re supposed to be my flanker, don’t rush in!”

Jimmy grunted, pushing his Birdie to stand back up and regain his bearings through the sirens now blaring across his console. “You wouldn’t have made it in time.” He muttered.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have tried. Look at you!” 

Taking in his alerts for the first time, she was right. Though not a large barrage, his Birdie had taken fire pushing into what was now clearly becoming enemy lines that they were now both deep within. Gorgon had also taken damage, more hits but far fewer penetrating its heavy armor and shield.

“Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing and start doing your job right!”

“Cleo look- AUGH!” 

The comm fuzzed out just as an explosion burst behind them. Both mobile suits twisted towards the wreckage. Jimmy sucked in a breath at the sight of the mobile weapon, an axe splitting the machine open like a log. Fire and choking smoke flared out from the fatal wound, only a small puddle on the concrete below giving any closure to the status of the pilot within.

A heavy mechanical foot slammed down into the destroyed mobile weapon from beyond the smoke, the axe wrenching up and out to swing high before it slowly descended onto the shoulder of a silhouetted figure. Slowly it pushed forward until the red face of a mobile suit emerged fully.

Through the static on the comm was a pitched voice, distorted and cold. “-im-y?”

Jimmy’s blood ran cold.

No…

“Enemy mobile suit on the ground!” Cleo boomed, raising the Gorgon’s shield and laser gun. “All units mobilize immediately. Surround it. Jimmy, flank to my left!”

Jimmy sputtered, “Wait- Cleo!” 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, if you won’t do your job then get out of my way!” She raced towards the enemy suit.

Jimmy lurched after her, “Cleo, that’s not a normal mobile suit, that’s-“

It was too late. Gorgon fired her laser gun on what would have been a point-blank shot. But in the time it took her to press down on the trigger the enemy suit was gone – beside her with its axe raised. In one swift motion the axe tore down on its target, and the Gorgon’s head split from its body.

The world seemed to quiet down to only the blood pumping in Jimmy’s ears. His hand shook, staring hopelessly at the scene as Gorgon’s body slowly slumped to the earth, unresponsive. He could see the comm connections going wild out of the corner of his eye, but the only words that managed to penetrate through the hazy cloud in his mind were the ones he was too slow to speak

“-dam planetside! I repeat, the enemy Plutonians have released a gundam!” 

Then, his console was bathed in red. An unknown connection rang once, twice, and then opened – at first he thought on its own before he realized his hand hovered over the accept button. There, within the suffocating confines of his cockpit, he came face to face with a smiling face, framed by long brown locks, and a scar running down one of two soul-piercing eyes.

Her smile widened into a grin. “Well would you look at that. It really is you, Jimmy!”

“Pearl…” He was barely able to stutter out. He thought his heart might beat straight out of his chest. “What- What are you- How did you get through-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, buddy.” Her voice was ever chipper but echoed with a familiar void. “But I’m on a very important mission right now.”

“You-”

“Although…” The grin on her face twisted. “I bet if I brought news of you being alive back, I’ll get quite a reward. Or maybe-”

“Die!”

Jimmy had no time to even take note of the second mobile weapon racing forward, firing its cannon towards Pearl. In that span she had already yanked the arm off of Gorgon which still clutched its shield and blocked the beam before her axe was flung into the mobile weapon. It hit the reactor, and the entire unit burst. Through the video feed Pearl had hardly taken her eyes off Jimmy, still staring through him with a terrifying sparkle in her gaze.

“Maybe I’ll just bring you back myself.”

He didn’t stop to think. Birdie’s controls were yanked back until the machine spun completely around, and he bolted. At top speed he went straight off the spaceport and out into the open fields. He could hear his allies screaming at him and Pearl letting out a whine, but he shut down all current comm connections and just ran. Whether it proved them right, whether they resented him, he couldn’t care about anything other than getting away.

Sensors blared at him, telling him everything he already knew- That several parts were damaged to a dangerous degree, that his reactor was wearing thin, that there was an unknown target giving chase -

Jimmy kept running.

He was so focused on running he barely noticed which direction he had gone in, nor did he notice the incoming connection until it actually opened on its own this time. Suddenly, Tango’s face, of all faces, was plastered over his console, eyebrows knit in a hard look. “Jimmy?”

Jimmy blinked in shock. “Tango? Wha-“

“I saw what happened. You’re heading south-east, right?” 

A glance at his navigation board confirmed the mechanic right. South-east. South-east? That was towards…

“Meet me at the ranch.” Tango nodded. 

“I can’t go there, she’s-”

“You have a three-minute head start on her. She stopped to fight the rest of the mobile weapons at the spaceport and was communicating with an off-planet signal. You’ll be here long before her if you keep going at your speed.”

The other mobile weapons…

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. He felt bile at the back of his throat. There were other mobile weapons – there were civilians! – and he’d ran away. Ran away with the only mobile suit. His words came out strangled, “Tango, I-”

“Don’t think about it right now!” He quickly interrupted with a shake of his head. “Just get here! I’ll have everything ready by then.”

“Everything? What everything?”

“You’re gonna get back in there on a level playing field.” Was the last thing he said before the comm died. There was only one way for Jimmy to interpret that. With a shaky breath he pressed onwards towards the ranch. 

-

His Birdie barely made it into the yard. When he forced open its cockpit and practically fell to the ground in exhaustion Tango was already there, waiting, and caught him before he face planted into the dirt. “Hey! Are you okay?” He squeaked in a panic. Jimmy’s helmet was yanked off.

Part of Jimmy was so relieved to know that the mechanic was also terrified of his state that he let out a chuckle into Tango’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think I have much more in me.”

“Well, find your second wind! If we don’t stop her who knows what’ll happen.”

Tango began to drag him towards the side of the house where the hatch to the underground bunker was hidden. Despite the battle Jimmy just escaped and the looming threat of it chasing him, the ranch was as peaceful as ever. He smiled. “I’m sorry…”

“Huh?” Tango’s head twisted to look at Jimmy, not stopping his speed walk. “What for?”

“I said I’d bring Birdie back home intact.”

He snorted. “Well when you left I didn’t think you would be fighting a gundam with her-”

“Owl.” Jimmy explained. “Gundam Owl. She’s- It’s one of Pluto’s greatest weapons. It’s singlehandedly how they kept the Martians from invading Io. Only Pluto’s top pilot is paired with her.” He let out a shudder, trying to block out more memories than were needed to explain to Tango exactly how screwed they were. “And that’s Pearl.”

“Do you know her?”

“It’s hard to not know her if you’re a pilot.”

Tango didn’t look convinced but nodded anyways and focused on leading the way. “Here we are.”

Canary was fully stood, its limbs secured into the launch belt surrounding it. Tango rushed over to the launch console to disconnect the last of the wires and tubes still feeding the thing. Jimmy would have to remember to interrogate Tango later on exactly how much equipment he’d managed to ‘scrap’. For now he stared down the gundam, unable to step up into the loading platform.

Tango had just finished his preparations when he noticed. “Jimmy.”

“It’s not going to work, Tango.” He muttered. The mechanic’s hand found its way to his shoulder in comfort, and Jimmy had to choke back a small breakdown. “I’m not joking about Pearl or Owl. They’ve never lost a fight. She got through the Karman Defence! I’m just a mediocre pilot who can’t even keep a machine intact. A coward who runs away while everyone else dies. Hopping into a gundam isn’t going to change that!”

“Jimmy, look at me.” His face was suddenly yanked down, his forehead bumping a little too roughly with Tango’s as he brought them eye to eye. Jimmy looked as asked, and he saw what he’d seen so far; Tango’s brow was pulled down, eyes energized, and jaw held stiff with some sort of determination. But there was something else there. His lip almost imperceptibly quivered, his eyes were wide and reddened in the corners, and he was breathing far too harshly through his nose. Even his hands that held tight to the side of Jimmy’s head had a vibration in the tips of his fingers.

Fear. Tango was scared.

“I know it’s a slim chance, I know it’s dangerous.” Tango said, and now Jimmy could recognize the slight stutter. “But nobody else is here to help. If we don’t try to do something, nothing will change.”

Jimmy felt his heart stop and start, any reply he had dying immediately. A shaky, calming breath escaped him, and he nodded ever so slightly, the motion rubbing their foreheads together once more. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Tango’s scowl turned up into a grin. “Yeah, we’ll try.” And then he yanked Jimmy onto the loading bay.

It took Jimmy a second to process that Tango was still there as they rose up to Canary’s level. “ We ?” He pipped.

The cockpit opened up, and Tango handed him his helmet. He pushed him into the seat before hopping back into the small space beside the chair he had stood on the first day he showed Jimmy the Canary. “Well, I figure I’m the one who’s been tinkering with her for the last three decades, I know more about how she works than you do.”

Jimmy whipped his head around, trying to take in both Tango’s words and the systems that were rapidly starting up. “But you could die!”

“So could you. We might all die if we don’t stop her.” 

Tango’s hand was once again on Jimmy’s shoulder, and somehow it felt oddly centering. He was able to take a deep breath and slowly figure out what was in front of him while Tango continued to speak almost right into his ear. “We can still run away, if you want to.”

Canary’s screen filled the cockpit with a bright blue light. The enemy knew they were here now. He shook his head. “No.”

There was a brief pause, during which the alert system flared to life, informing them that Pearl was thirty seconds away. “Jimmy, why did you become a pilot?��

“I wanted to help people.”

“It’s the same for me, but for you.” Tango leaned forward, a strained smile on his face. “It’s what a mechanic is for. I know you can do it, Jimmy. I’ll be right here to make sure you do. We can run, but I know you’ll hate yourself if you do. But whatever you choose to do, I’ll be right here either way. I’ll help you.”

Sonar pinged Pearl almost right on top of them. 

Jimmy felt his lip trembling. The small noise he made was supposed to be affirmation, but it came out more like a choke. He placed a hand on top of Tango’s. “If I try to run, stop me?”

He broke into a wide grin. “Got it.”

“Then let’s do this.” He mustered all the determination he could manage.

Canary seemed to respond immediately, bringing up everything he needed on its own. It startled him for a half a second, but he brushed it off as a thought for later, instead smiling appreciatively at the screens. Then it brought up a strange camera angle, revealing Owl towering over the farmhouse, turning its head in confusion.

“Hey, that’s my security camera!” Tango whined, pointing at the feed. 

It immediately blinked away, reappearing on the other side of Jimmy. He laughed while Tango grumbled. “Ready?” He asked. There was no extra seat or buckles to lock the mechanic in, so he would just have to hold on tight to the ceiling handle. Tango gave him a thumbs up.

The ceiling above opened up and Canary was launched full force to the surface. Both men braced themselves as the cobbled launcher rattled, practically throwing the mobile suit into the midday sky. Right in front of them was Owl, who jerked around to reveal its rounded face as they appeared behind it.

It was a mobile suit Jimmy had known well, as all Plutonians did. Though Pearl had it repainted a crimson red that matched both her and Owl’s moonish eyes, the frame had changed very little over the years.

Twenty meters tall and top heavy in design, specialized propulsion decorating its upper back to move it near-silently towards Canary at top speeds. But Jimmy pushed hard down on Canary’s controls. The lighter frame built by Tango for planet-side combat twisted out of the way with ease from the space-specialized loadout of Owl. Canary was fast, faster than Jimmy was expecting, and he found himself propelling almost all the way to the edge of the ranch without intent.

“She’s a smooth flyer, even on solid ground. Keep an eye on those thrusters.” Tango warned, pointing out the problem causers on the diagnostics. “Her frame’s lightweight beyond belief. Don’t toss yourself around like you would in a heavier suit, use more precision.”

“Got it.” Jimmy reoriented his handle on the controls and pushed forward. It went smoother this time, able to spin right around the Owl to its left flank behind its axe. “Where’s the weapons?”

“She ain’t got much firepower right now.” Tango admitted guiltily.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, it’s fine. See that field?” They shrieked as Owl’s axe nearly sliced Canary in half if not for a quick-thinking duck. Tango tapped his finger against a particular camera feed where a large heap sat in the grass. “That’s an old melee unit, it has a blade still on its back.”

“A blade?” Jimmy squawked incredulously even as he started towards it. “I haven’t done any melee combat in years, Tango. Is it even a good idea with the Canary?”

“It’s what we got!”

“Jimmyyy…” The owl’s speakers blared across the farmstead. “When did you get a gundam frame? I’m so happy for you!”

“Then maybe you could let me be happy for a bit and go away!” He shouted back as he landed on top of the scrap heap and began to dig.

“Oh, you know I can’t do that. I have a mission to fulfill.”

A shadow fell over the feed. Jimmy spun Canary around in time to see Owl, axe held high, falling down towards him. He yelped. It chopped into the scraps, just barely grazing a piece of Canary’s leg armor off. Owl heaved back up, glaring down at the tumbled mobile suit.

“And you’re getting in my way.”

Tango shouts, “Now!”

Canary lurched forward. Metal screeched and wired split as a long blade pushed straight through the joint of Owl’s left shoulder. Jimmy heard a gasp over the speaker. Something vital must have been skewered, because when the blade was yanked back out Owl’s limb went limp, dropping its axe to the earth. 

For half a second Pearl seemed too shocked to do anything. Jimmy took advantage of the moment and rushed back in, slicing through part of her other shoulder before the old, decrepit blade gave out and snapped. Canary stumbled back away, turning towards the fields once more.

“What else is there, Tango?”

“Um, uh- gimme a second I’m trying to-”

“We don’t have a second!”

“Jimmy!” Pearl shrieked, the speaker peaking at its volume. Jimmy shivered. Owl stuttered forward, its pilot’s rage leaking out into its movements. “How. DARE you.”

He immediately started to stutter “Pearl, I-”

“How dare you hurt Tilly!” And then the gundam was back in their face. Jimmy had no chance to react before the limp arm was swung like a flail across Canary’s face. The mobile suit stumbled, but was grabbed before it hit the earth by angry claws that lifted the whole suit straight into the air.

This was it. They were going to die. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and reached out for Tango’s hand once again.

“Pearl,” A static-laced familiar voice broke through Pearl’s speaker. “That’s enough.”

The world stopped. A flood of far too many overwhelming memories flashed through Jimmy’s mind. Suddenly death didn’t seem so bad, compared to hearing that voice again.

Owl jerked back. “But he-”

“ENOUGH!” The voice boomed. “You’ve failed your mission. Return to orbit now before the EF mobilizes and you lose the Owl to your incompetence too.”

Jimmy could feel Pearl seething, but she backed off. “As you would, Scott.”

Tango let out a sound like air being let out of a balloon when she sped off, but Jimmy couldn’t move. His mind swirled and spilled over. He knew his body had begun to shake but his control panel had become a blur.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed between her retreat and being able to think once again, but as he came back Tango’s concerned face took up his vision. “Jimmy? Jimmy, you there?”

Jimmy gaped like a fish, intending to reply but never quite being able to. His stomach rolled. In a panic, he punched the button to pop open the cockpit and crawled out. Tango shouted after him, but Jimmy didn’t stop until he nearly fell off the side of the still kneeling Canary. Hands reached out to grab him and pull him back before he slipped. Nothing could stop the bile from rising up his throat but he did his best to lean out over the edge before it could get on the Canary or Tango. 

A hand rubbed soothingly against his back through the heaves. For once, Tango was quiet, and Jimmy greatly appreciated it as his mind and body tried to recover from the violent episode of dissociation. Through ragged breaths he could hear the distant sounds of vehicles. A glance to the horizon indicated the arrival of other surviving EF units towards the ranch. 

“A bit late.” Tango joked. He helped Jimmy back towards the cockpit, where he commanded Canary to lower far enough for them to get out safely. On the ground now, Jimmy clung to Tango’s hand while they waited.

A hysterical laugh escaped him. “I can’t believe we just did that.” He croaked. Exhaustion began to roll over him, and he leaned into Tango’s shoulder.

“Dude, I told you. You’re a good pilot.”

“I’m not sure I would call that good piloting.”

A hand came down on his hair, a sound of disbelief escaping Tango. “You fought off a gundam, Jimmy! As far as I’m concerned, you’re amazing.”

Despite everything a smile creeped onto Jimmy’s face. “Well, it’s all thanks to you.”

“I barely did anything buddy, that was all you.”

“Don’t you start-”

Their conversation was cut short by a mobile weapon rolling up, the barrel of its cannon pointed directly on them. Several more followed, aiming up towards the motionless Canary. A speaker screeched to life. “Jimmy Solidarity and Tango Tek.” A deep, flat voice demanded their attention. Both men stood back up on shaky limbs, hands tentatively raised. “You are being arrested for treason against the Earth Federation. Turn yourselves over calmly and swiftly. Do not resist.”

“What?” Tango shouted back incredulously. “What do you mean treason, we just saved your butts!”

“With an illegal mobile suit you have unlawfully hidden from the state. I will say this one last time, do not resist.”

“Tango…” Jimmy begged before the enraged mechanic could say anything more. Tango’s nostrils flared, but he begrudgingly did as told. Soon they were surrounded by soldiers and led away from the ranch. Cuffs were placed on them as they were shoved into the back of a jeep. Tango continued to glare at his former coworkers, but all they received in return was a scoff and words muttered just loud enough for Jimmy to hear.

“This is what we get for trusting a Plutonian.”

[ectoberhaunt]

phantom!! don’t give in. you can’t. you gotta keep on fighting it

we’ll definitely complete the rites before All Hallow’s Eve, we just need a little mo-

wait, what’s tha-

holy s h i t

Part 1 Part 2 << Read here.

Flo screeched and jerked as she tried to free herself from Fright's Iron grip.

The dark knight had grabbed her from behind and rooted her from her office chair.

"Stop your struggling," Fright growled as he wedged her further into the crook of one of his giant arms. He used his free hand to undo the bag of Dream dust that was attached to his side.

"No," Flo growled, her hand tightening around her drawing stylus. She Needed to get free. This ghost could kill her, and she knew that. In her panic, her brain did the only thing that made logical sense at the time. She stabbed the knight in the face with her pen.

Fright yelped- both out of shock and pain- and dropped her to the floor.

Flo quickly scrambled to her feet and bolted out of her bedroom and down the steps.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she slid to a stop in her kitchen. She quickly yanked open the cabinet that her parents kept their ecto-gun safe in.

Her hands trembled as she tried to dial in the safe's code.

Nothing was working.

She couldn't remember the code.

She buried her face in her hands for a second before running them through her hair as she tried to think of a backup plan.

"BRAT!!" the knight roared from upstairs.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." She cursed as she made a beeline for the front door. She needed to put as much distance as she could between her and that ghost as possible. If she made it outside, she might have a fighting chance.

Maybe she coul-

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when she fell to the ground with a thud.

Anger swept through her.

"If I freaking survived this, I am going to shove my brother's shoes down his throat." She hissed. Something caught her eye as she pushed herself up off the floor.

A bat was poking out of the umbrella bin by the door. Half of the 'Fentonworks' logo was visible from the side of it.

Fenton meant it could mess up a ghost.

She grinned.

Good.

She quickly pulled it from the bin as she bolted out the front door and bounded down the stone steps that led up to her house.

She paused for a second at the foot of them as she tried to think of where to go.

THE PARK

The park had a safe zone that was surrounded by blood blossoms.

It was an evacuation area people could run to for safety during ghost attacks if they were too far from a building with a ghost shield.

Flo picked up her pace, her chest heaving as she ran.

Luckily she lived close to the park.

If she could keep up her endurance, she might just be okay.

She finally reached her destination.

Her legs burned as bad as her lungs did as she ran through the entrance.

The park was poorly lit, and the blood moon overhead made everything darker.

She tried to push past her paranoia as she plunged through the darkest parts of the park.

Every instinct was telling her to stay where there were still lights.

But she knew if she did, there was a high probability that she would get captured or worse.

She didn't understand why this ghost was after her. But she had a sinking feeling it was because of Phantom.

She had been trying to reach him through the blog Phantom had been posting on.

Everyone in amity was worried about him since he disappeared.

The blog had seemed to be the only way to reach him.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she saw the edge of the evacuation area.

The blood blossoms almost looked black under the light of the blood moon.

She was almost safe!

She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, but she was so happy.

That happiness was short-lived when purple flames sprung to life in front of her.

She barely had enough time to stop. She almost barreled headfirst into them.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as tears welled in her eyes.

No, no, no, no, no-no.

She was so so so close.

She shook her head.

This couldn't be happing.

A deep and terrifying laugh filled the night air.

Flo spun on her heels and brought her bat up to a ready position. Her trembling hands had an iron grip on the base of it.

Her legs shook- both out of fear and exhaustion-as she stared down the ghost who had hunted her like prey.

He dropped from the air and landed on his feet without a noise.

The Dark knight seemed to find her last stand to be amusing.

"Do you really think that bat is going to do anything?" He asked. The ghost didn't seem to have a mouth, but Flo could hear his condescending smile.

"Yeah." Flo took a breath as she steeled herself over. "I may still lose, but at least I'll get to make you hurt a little."

"Oh," Fright chuckled darkly. "Well, aren't you the brave and resourceful one. I will admit. Of your friends that my brother and I have captured. You are certainly the most annoying."

Flo's heart skipped a beat.

"My friends? What friends?" A knot of anxiety formed in her stomach as she thought back to all of the ignored messages she had sent to KC and bib. They hadn't texted her back in days. Even Rivers was starting to get worried.

"Given the sudden spike in your fear. I think you know exactly what, friends." Fright unsheathed soul shredder and stepped into a fighting stance. "Don't worry, young one. I am going to make sure you see them again."

Fright launched forward and swung his sword down with a clean yet powerful strike.

Flo just barely managed to roll out of the way. The blade of the knight's sword sunk into the grass. The green metal reflected the wall of purple flames in front of it.

Flo got back to her feet. Her legs were shaking with adrenalin now.

In the back of her mind, she knew this was a losing battle, but she was going to go down swinging.

She took advantage of the knight's misfortune and launched forward. She managed to get a clean strike in with her bat, straight to the knight's head.

She struck him so hard that his helmet flew clean off his head, causing him to stagger backward, dropping his sword in the process.

Flo tried to not get distracted by the knight's now flame engulfed head. She didn't want to see what he looked like.

She knew she wouldn't be able to handle it.

So instead, she closed her eyes and kept swinging frantically.

Each swing was enough to knock the knight back just a little more.

Finally, on her last swing, she got a good clean shot to his head again.

Fright howled in pain and fell to his knees.

Flo quickly circled back around to grab the knight's sword while he was still recovering from her hit.

Surely a ghostly weapon could do more damage.

Hope bloomed in her chest as she reached out to grab the hilt of the sword, but the moment her hand touched the weapon's cold metal she was overwhelmed with terror and sleep.

She started hyperventilating as she fell to her hands and knees. She tried to fight how heavy her eyes were getting, but she couldn't keep them open.

She collapsed onto the grass, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched Fright get closer and closer to her with every blink.

She couldn't will her body to move no matter how much she desperately wanted to.

She watched as the knight picked his now dented helmet up off the ground and put it back over his head.

He then angrily pulled a small bag off of his waist.

"You deserve the nightmares I am about to give you." He said cooly as he stood over her. "Your lucky My brother's dream dust will at least combat the sleep paralysis you are experiencing from touching my blade."

Flo watched in silent terror as the knight poured some galaxy-colored dust onto the palm of one of his hands. It lost its color and became flakey and brittle the moment it touched the knight's hand. Tiny purple embers sparked off the dust like it was the ash of a dying fire.

The knight crouched down and blew it directly into her face.

His cracked green eyes were the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness and slipped into a night terror of the ghost's own crafting.

Fright closed the bag of dream dust and tied it back to his waist before he slung Flo over his shoulder with one arm.

He then stood up and pulled his sword from the ground.

He kicked Flo's bat into the wall of purple flames. He was hoping to see it burn.

But it didn't.

Instead, it sat in his flames, completely unblemished.

He growled.

This human was more trouble than she was worth.

But at least she would no longer be a threat.

By @floralflowerpower

[hrtiu]

This prompt for Foxiyo! (Or whatever you want!): we have a shit ton of stuff to do today but you're bored and want kisses and my attempt at resisting fails and we end up making out on the floor

Based on this prompt list. Hey, thanks for the prompt! @amukmuk gave me the same one but for rexsoka, and it was fun to see how a similar prompt played out differently for different people! This fic is set in the universe of Worthy of Devotion, and Riyo is Chancellor. Fox was assigned to be her bodyguard, but isn't anymore.

Fox jogged into the receiving room just outside of Riyo’s office where a nervous Maja paced back and forth.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here,” Maja said when she noticed his approach. “It’s really bad.”

Fox nodded curtly. “What’s the situation?”

“She’s meeting with the Banking Clan tomorrow to discuss interest rates,” Maja said. “She’s been reading over the same document for six hours. She hasn’t eaten in twelve. Hasn’t slept since yesterday, either.”

“I understand,” Fox said, opening the double doors to Riyo’s office and stepping through. He had a mission to complete. He’d never failed an assignment before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Riyo hid behind a pile of datapads at her desk. Her lilac hair was stringy and unkempt, with golden hairpieces sticking out at haphazard angles. Deep purple bags hung under bloodshot eyes, and she tapped her stylus rapidly against the desktop as her eyes darted back and forth across the screen of her datapad.

Wick stood guard at the door, and nodded his understanding as Fox entered the room. Good luck, he seemed to say, and Fox had to agree he was going to need it.

Fox approached the Chancellor carefully, keeping his footfalls light and his expression soft. “Riyo…?”

She didn’t look up. “Can’t talk. The Banking Clan always finds a way to twist our negotiations in their favor, and it won’t happen this time.”

“Didn’t your financial advisors already prep you for this meeting?” he said.

“Yes, but my prep is never enough. They always bring up something I hadn’t anticipated. I need to understand-”

“Riyo, you’re not going to be able to get a university degree in finance over the course of one night.”

Riyo’s head shot up and she looked down her nose at Fox, her anger giving way to an imperiousness at odds with the tangled mess of gold and purple atop her head. “Are you trying to say I should give up? Because that’s not going to happen. Every problem can be overcome with effort. If you’re willing to put in the work, nothing is impossible.”

Fox stepped up to her and placed his hands over hers where she clutched at the datapad. “Of course. And I know you’d never give up. But a sharp mind will help more than any last-minute reading. Why don’t you take a minute to recover?”

The hard line of Riyo’s mouth quavered, and her determined expression broke. She shook her head and buried herself back in the datapad. “I… I really can’t. There’s just… so much to do.”

Fox tugged gently at her fingers, but she wouldn’t loosen her grip on the datapad. He’d have to try another tactic.

He looked up at Wick and gave him a subtle nod. Wick nodded back and silently left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

Fox stepped cautiously around the back of Riyo’s desk, behind her chair. He rested his palms against her delicate shoulders, wincing at the stiffness of her thin frame. He began to rub his hands down her arms, then back up to her neck.

Riyo’s shoulders dropped down a few centimeters, and he allowed himself a smirk. This new approach seemed to be working.

“Fox… I really, really need to work.”

He started working his fingers into the tight muscles behind her shoulder blades. “I know. I’m attempting to facilitate that, Madam Chancellor.”

She let out a small groan of relief and let her head fall back against the top of her chair. Her nose scrunched up at the sound of her title. “You know I don’t like when you call me that.”

“That’s the capacity in which you are currently operating, ma’am.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and Fox wondered at how she was still so beautiful when she looked like hell. “Is this your way of telling me I need to step back?” she said.

“I told you that explicitly a few minutes ago, ma’am, and you said you were fine. I wouldn’t dare contradict you.”

Riyo snorted, then sat up straight again. She reached for her datapad. “Ok, I get it. I’ll take a break soon, I promise. I just need to finish this chapter.”

No, Fox thought, panicking as his hard work began to unravel before his eyes. No, I’m so close!

He crouched down over the side of her chair and tucked his nose just under her jawline, waiting a breathless second before kissing the soft flesh of her neck. It was an underhanded strategy, and he wasn’t proud of it, but drastic times called for drastic measures.

Riyo gasped, one hand rising up to feel along the stubbled side of his face. “Fox…” she said, her voice breaking.

If she was still capable of speech, he obviously wasn’t trying hard enough. He nipped gently at the side of her throat, then sucked her soft skin beneath his teeth. She groaned and dug her fingers into his hair. Fox opened his eyes and huffed in frustration. One of her hands still clutched at that damned datapad.

It’s the angle of approach, he thought. Now that I’ve engaged my opponent, I need to get on more favorable terrain.

He pulled her chair back, then rolled backwards onto the plush carpet, taking her with him. Her eyes widened in surprise but she came willingly, her soft form clinging tightly to his chest. Fox hated being out of his armor in most situations but he had to admit there were times civvies were convenient.

He pulled her down to him and met her mouth with his, kissing her with a practiced familiarity that was both comforting and thrilling. She sighed into his mouth and held his face in her hands in that particular way that made him feel precious and loved. Maybe this mission would be beneficial to him as well as the Chancellor.

Riyo pulled back and Fox let out a whine of protest totally unbefitting his rank. “Was it… Was it really so bad?” she asked.

Fox smirked and held his hand against her cheek, stroking up and down with his thumb. “Maja called me in.”

Riyo’s mixed emotions played like a holo drama across her face: chagrin, gratitude, annoyance. But thankfully her expression landed on something Fox had come to recognize as love. “Then I guess I owe her a raise.”

Fox chuckled, a low sound deep in his chest, and pulled Riyo back down to him.

[eternalsimp]

Cursed Fears

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3096

Warnings: aged up Megumi, use of female pronouns, swearing, mentions of violence, spoilers for episodes 5 and 6, mention of character death, slight sexual themes toward the end, angst, minors dni.

The sound of the rain steadily increasing was the only sound in your apartment as you waited patiently for your boyfriend. Your laptop displayed that it was midnight as you lazily scribbled statistics solutions onto the notes app of your tablet. Once you felt you reached a stopping point you got up to find a long sleeve to stave off the cold that seeped into the apartment from the storm. Striding over to your closet to pull out something to remind you of him. As you grabbed his signature grey shirt, you were immediately hit with the soft scent of cedar-wood. It was thin and soft from years of use. It hung loosely and brought you a sort of comfort as you counted down the minutes ‘til he got home. You weren’t a sorcerer, but you were well aware of the dangers that your friends went out and faced, and the panic in the back of your mind grew louder as the hours passed since Megumi had walked out of the door.

You stifled a yawn as you finally heard the lock to your front door click open and shut. You closed your eyes and stretched your back to loosen the knots that formed from doing your homework on the living room floor. As you made your way to the door to greet your boyfriend, he was frantically kicking his shoes off and stripping himself of his jacket.

“Hey love, how was it?” you said softly while reaching for his rain-soaked torso. He flinched away from your touch, eyes wide and afraid. His blue eyes scan your confused face before he blinks slowly and takes a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to still be up.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before retreating to the bathroom. The smell of blood, dirt, and god knows what else isn’t lost on you as he tries to pass you quickly. You bend to pick his jacket off of the floor where he had tossed it in his haste, and walk to your shared bedroom to put it in the laundry basket. You open the drawers to his side of the dresser to pull out his favorite sweats and a plain white tee-shirt, before gently placing them on the bathroom counter where he is aggressively scrubbing his face. 

“You’re gonna get sick if you stay in those wet clothes much longer,” you say oh so matter of factly before pushing up on your toes to kiss the corner of his jaw. Your movements take him slightly off guard, which you use to your advantage to nudge him to a sitting position on the bench next to the shower. You run a washcloth under the warm water of the sink, move to stand between his legs, and gently brush the cloth against his temple. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You both sit in silence as you wipe the remnants of sweat and blood off of his face and neck. You notice the way he's holding your waist, hands so light his touch is barely there. Like he’s afraid you'll break if he makes a wrong move. After you finish wiping his face and neck, you tug at the hem of his soaked shirt and he complies with your wordless command to take it off. You step back out of the bathroom to toss it into the basket with his Jujustu Tech jacket.

When you walk back in, his head is leaning against the cool wall, letting you fully take stock of the bruises and cuts adorning the top half of his body. The worst of it looks like a slight split at the corner of his bottom lip and a shallow cut above one of his brows. You stride over to him and run your fingers through his black hair. “Baby,” you crooned softly. He gave a soft hum in acknowledgment as you nuzzled your nose into the top of his head. “I love you but you smell like a sewer, can you please shower before you fall asleep?” He sticks his tongue out playfully as you back away from him so he can stand up and move towards the shower. 

Though his normal stoic behavior wouldn’t concern you, you still can’t shake the terrified look on his face when he first entered the apartment. How tense he’s holding himself and the way that he’s obviously trying not to worry you. His eyes linger on your face like he’s trying to memorize every aspect of it before he drops his gaze and shakes whatever thought he had out of his head.

You settle back on the living room floor between the coffee table and the couch and turn your attention back to your college notes. You only have time to pick your stylus back up before your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. You look down and see Itadori’s name scrawled across the screen along with a picture of him smiling next to your grouchy-looking boyfriend.

“Hey Yuuji, what’s up?”

“Hey y/n, I know it's late but I just wanted to make sure Fushiguro got back okay.”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. Do you want me to have him call you when he’s out?”

“No… I just… did he seem okay when he got back?”

You chewed on the corner of your mouth for a second, “I mean, he seemed kinda unsettled but that’s not unusual for when he comes back from your guys' missions.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re right. I don’t know, he just seemed off after everything. Never mind.”

You hear the water shut off in the other room and quirk a brow. “Yuuji you better spit it out or else I’m gonna come over there and start cutting your fingers off! What are you not telling me?”

“On that note, I gotta go. Just talk to him, okay?”

“Wait Yuuji-” the line goes dead before you can press him with more questions. You stuff your phone back into your pocket and tap your stylus on your tablet for a couple of minutes. Just talk to him. Gore and violence are nothing new to Megumi, and he isn’t easily fazed, so what would shake him so bad that even Yuuji is worried?

You’re pulled from your thoughts both literally and figuratively when you feel a pair of muscular arms lift you onto the couch behind you. You are once again settled between your boyfriend's legs as you’re pressed against his strong chest. You yelp and try to wiggle out of his grasp but his years of training with the other Jujustu Sorcerers, even after graduating, leave him with an iron grip on your hips. 

“Hang on let me grab my notes,” you protest. He presses his face into your neck and whines. After a few moments of struggling against him, you manage to snatch your tablet and pen off the ground and open it to your last question. You adjust yourself so your shoulder is against his chest and you can lazily drape your legs over his thigh. He rests his cheek against the crown of your head and readjusts his arms around you so he can still hold you tightly while not blocking your view of your classwork. You scribble notes for a few more minutes before deciding that him falling asleep in this position will mean him complaining of a sore neck in the morning, what with the awkward way it's twisted to lean against you. You could feel his body getting heavier against your own. You remembered what Yuuji had told you, and in an effort to keep him awake, you decided to ask what had been nagging you since he got back home. 

“Are you okay?” All you get in response is another hum from your barely awake boyfriend. You shift again and reach up to run your fingers through his still-damp hair, “‘Gumi, baby, you shouldn't fall asleep here. Let’s go to bed.” He chuckles lightly at the nickname you gave him way back when you first started dating, and how you save it for private moments like this. 

“I just wanna hold you for a bit longer, I promise we’ll get up soon.” Megumi finally murmurs. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches as you try to fix your gaze upon him. You sigh and set your tablet down before turning to straddle Megumi’s lap and force him to look at you. 

“What’s wrong, you’re more distant than usual?” You rest your hands on either side of his face and turn him to look at you. He avoids eye contact and suddenly you’re looking at the guarded 16-year-old boy who refused to open up to anyone when you first met. You lean to rest your forehead against his as he focuses his gaze somewhere between your jaw and the base of your throat. “Please talk to me? What happened out there?”

Megumi struggles internally on how much to tell you. You mindlessly stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and he finds himself settling his hands back on your waist again, with the same feather-light touch that you would use with glass. Finally, you get his answer in the form of a whisper.

“I’m scared I’m gonna lose you…”

You immediately pull your head back to look at him straight on only to be met with a faraway gaze. You furrow your brows together and squeeze his face just enough to get his attention. His eyes snap to yours and you can see the tears starting to prick at the corners. “I’m not going anywhere ‘Gumi.” You smile at him before pulling him closer to you and he buries his face into your neck.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m scared I’m putting you in danger,” his voice is starting to waver, “You didn’t ask for this, any of this. I’m gone all the time, always on missions constantly putting both our lives in danger. I can’t even imagine what would happen if one of the special grades were to find out about you. It’s bad enough Sukuna knows you.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and you feel his chest shudder.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. You nudge his face away from your shoulder and see the tears he’s been holding back finally fall. The only other time you can remember him crying like this was when he thought Yuji died. You go back to stroking his face and shushing him but it's too late, the dam is broken and he can no longer hold back the sobs. 

“What if I can’t protect you?” He continues to choke out his fears while you keep stroking his face lovingly and whispering soft reassurances to him that everything is going to be okay and you’re both safe. You let him cry into your chest until his strangled sobs slowly turn into soft sniffles.

“Feeling any better baby?” You gently push at his shoulders and lean him back again so you can look at him. He nods hesitantly and lets you wipe any remaining tears from under his now puffy eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just tired and I guess everything kinda boiled over all at once,” he sighs. You lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly melts into it.

“Don’t be sorry Megumi, you can talk to me about anything.” You press another kiss to his forehead and continue rubbing small circles into his jaw to loosen the tension there. After a few moments of holding each other silently, you pipe your voice up again. “Yuji called, he seemed worried. Did something happen tonight?”

You felt Megumi go stiff underneath you before quickly relaxing into your touch again. “Itadori started to lose control and Sukuna was just being a dick, per usual.” You inhale sharply and try to remove yourself from his grasp, you are gonna kill those two one of these days. As if he could read your mind Megumi quickly grabbed your wrists effectively pinning you against his chest once again. “Okay no, stop it. Nothing happened, he was just being mouthy and trying to wind me up. Obviously, it worked...”

“I don’t give a shit what Sukuna says and neither should you. If by some miracle he is able to get out of their pact, Gojo and Yuji would never let anything happen, and neither would you.” You press your forehead against his again since he still has a firm grip on your wrists to keep you from moving away from him. “I don’t care what you think, the safest place for me is right here with you. Sukuna is just bitter that he’s in a cage so he’s decided to make it everyone else's problem.” Megumi chuckles lightly again before releasing your hands and replacing his arms around your waist. 

“We should go to bed, you have class in the morning.” He sighs. You crane your neck to see it’s well past 2 am, you stretch again to release the last couple of cracks in your spine and your boyfriend takes the opportunity to nip at your collarbones and make you squirm against him. 

“If you stop doing that I’ll stay home with you instead, deal?” He jerks his face away from your chest and gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Are you sure? You have exams this week right?” 

“There’s no point in going to a lecture if I’m just gonna fall asleep. I’ll study for my exams tomorrow after I wake up, but I’m planning on sleeping in tomorrow. Both of us need it.” He hums in agreement before trying to lift himself off the couch with you still in his arms. You gasp in surprise as you feel him wobble and stumble back into the couch cushions, tucking you into his neck with a hand to the back of your head to keep your faces from colliding. 

You look at each other and let out a chorus of laughter. You shake your head before pinching his nose gently. “For someone so smart, you are so fucking dumb sometimes.” He scrunches up his face and swats your hand away as you peel yourself out of his arms and off his lap.

“You know, I’ve done it before and I was confident I could do it again. Also, I gotta keep my pretty girl on her toes.” This time it was your turn to swat his hand away as he grabbed at your thighs and rear. You rolled your eyes comically at him and moved towards the bedroom. He jumps up, throws you over his shoulder, before unceremoniously plopping you on the bed with a speed you’ve only ever seen him possess. He hovers over you as he presses his mouth against you in a rushed, teeth-clashing kiss. You push at his shoulder so he can dramatically flop on his back and open his arms expectantly. 

“Give me a sec to change, I’ll be right back.” He whines like a child when you grab your pajama shorts and a tank top from the top of the dresser and stride into the bathroom. You’ve never known anyone to be as handsy as Megumi. He hates PDA and would never in a million years let strangers see through his cold, tough exterior. In the comfort of your home though, you quickly learned that he can never keep his hands to himself and they tend to wander on their own. He always wants to be touching you when you’re home together and he’ll whine and pout if he can’t. You can never find it in your heart to turn down his affection, especially on nights like this when he is feeling vulnerable and needs reassurance. Those nights are few and far between but you indulge your boyfriend in anything he needs whenever his facade starts to crack and you get glimpses of the version of him that he keeps carefully tucked away. 

You pull your jeans and his sweater off and quickly throw your pajamas on. You toss your clothes into the basket from the door and find your boyfriend sprawled on your side of the bed scrolling through his phone. You poke the middle of his back and yank the blanket, covering him from the waist down, to what's supposed to be his side of the bed. His jaw drops in mock offense before he's pulling your front flush against his chest once again. 

His lips latch onto yours again as he's tangling his legs with yours and threading his hands through your hair. You bring your hands under his shirt to stroke your fingertips lightly against his sides as his kisses grow needier and more urgent. One of his hands leaves your hair to grip your hips as he rolls his own into you desperately. You bring one hand to press against his chest lightly and move away from him for air. 

“Baby please…” he looks like he's on the verge of begging. His heart pounds heavily under your fingers on his chest. You press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“‘Gumi, you’re exhausted and very emotional right now, just go to sleep.” His bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout and you lift your hand to run your thumb over his protruding bottom lip. “I promise I will be here in the morning and we have all day tomorrow to hang out and do anything you want.” 

His brows quirk up and his mouth pulls into a smirk. “Anything?” He drops his head to try and catch your lips again but you evade him.

“Anything, if you go to sleep right now and wait ‘til morning.” He scrunches his nose up and huffs pathetically before moving to tuck one arm under your head and wrap the other around your waist protectively. You nuzzle your face into his chest to breathe in the usual smell of cedar-wood and a lingering scent of rain. One of your hands is tucked under his jaw while the other slips back beneath his shirt to keep tracing patterns up and down his sides. He shivers at the featherlight touch of your fingertips but melts into the hand you have on his face.

You can feel his breath growing more rhythmic and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut. You press one last kiss to his jaw before murmuring a quiet “I love you” into his chest. He squeezes the arm that's around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too baby. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

[valkyrisffvii]

Secrets

Setting: Mithra’s apartment in the Shinra Building, Midgar

POV: 3rd person

Summary: Mithra invites Sephiroth over to her home so the new couple can spend time together, and she reveals some of her deepest secrets.

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Mithra sat on one of the barstools in her kitchen area, mindlessly staring at her phone. She finished cleaning up her apartment earlier to make it look presentable, as Sephiroth was going to be spending the night with her. Apparently, her apartment was nicer than even the 1st class SOLDIER’s, as it was originally a suite for Shinra’s guests. 

The two of them had been together for about a week now. Mithra still felt somewhat overwhelmed and in disbelief at the fact, but Sephiroth had reassured her that he loved her and wanted the relationship. Also, thankfully, there were no rules in SOLDIER that forbade dating among members. Additionally, the two of them had agreed that their relationship could become public, as doing such would prevent fangirls from causing problems. 

There was a knock at her door, and Mithra quickly hurried over. She peered through the peephole and saw the tall, silver-haired First standing on the other side. Heart racing, she opened the door to let him in.

“Hello, my dear,” his smooth voice did nothing to calm her down. He placed his duffel bag down and pulled Mithra in for a hug. Normally, Sephiroth would never perform such a physical act, but Mithra somehow brought out this side in him. Mithra hugged him back, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Hello, love,” she mumbled into his coat. She leaned up to kiss him, which he gladly accepted. Mithra then led him into her living area.

“Your home is very nice,” he said. “I now understand why Zack and Cloud like to hang out here so much.”

“I do my best to accommodate. I made Zack his own jar of puppy food.” 

Sephiroth could not help but crack a small grin; Mithra knew her friends too well. The living area had a television as well as a large couch and a coffee table. The kitchen was in the same room, with a nicely-sized kitchen island that sported several bar stools. Sephiroth spotted several of Angeal’s cookbooks perched on the countertop, showing that Mithra had been borrowing them and experimenting with new recipes. 

Mithra opened one of the doors that led out of the living area to reveal the bedroom. Maroon sheets and pillowcases adorned the king-sized bed, and a matching comforter was draped over the foot. Each side had a nightstand with a pink salt lamp, and the nightstand on the left had a caddy with several small items. Opposite of the bed was a full-length window whose curtains were currently drawn. 

“You can leave your bag there.” Mithra gestured to the dresser against the wall next to the door. “The left side of the bed is my side. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the right side.” She paused, getting nervous again. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable sleeping next to me, then you could sleep-”

Sephiroth shushed her.

“Relax, love. I’ll be more than comfortable sharing a bed with you. I’m sure your bed will be much warmer with me in it.” He winked at her, inciting a giggle from the now-relaxed Second. As she helped him get settled, Mithra could not help but adore the way Sephiroth could both fluster her to the point of blushing and instantly relax her all in the same breath. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening had consisted of the two talking about their lives and gossiping about their friends. Mithra cooked them dinner with the help of Angeal’s cookbooks, and, unlike the times she cooked with Zack, the kitchen stayed relatively clean. They also played chess, which Sephiroth won every single time. Mithra and Sephiroth only grew closer during that time. She had always known that they were more similar than she originally thought, having no clue who their parents were and being mostly solitary in their youth. It almost seemed like they were meant to be together.

It was 9 PM when they both decided to get ready for bed. Mithra showed Sephiroth to her luxurious bathroom, which sported separate shower, whirlpool spa, and toilet rooms that both connected to a vanity and sink area. Not even the prestigious 1st Class SOLDIERs had this amenity.

“I know that you’ll be taking a while with that hair of yours, so I’ll go and shower first.” Mithra gathered her clothes and went into the shower room, finishing her shower within five minutes. She changed into her preferred sleepwear which consisted of a sports bra and shorts, and she went back into the bedroom where Sephiroth was sitting on the bed. 

“You look quite adorable,” he said playfully, which resulted in an equally playful punch in the arm. He pretended to be hurt and chuckled as he went into the bathroom to shower.

Ten minutes had passed, and knowing that her boyfriend would be taking a while, Mithra went to the bathroom and opened up the small skincare refrigerator that sat safely on a vanity away from the sinks. She applied her toner and creams, considering asking Sephiroth if he was interested in trying out one of her mud masks sometime. As she walked back to her bedroom, she failed to notice the large, slippery puddle that a certain someone had dripped in the middle of the floor.

“Fuuuck!” she cried as her feet slid up from underneath her. Luckily, before she could collapse on the floor, a strong pair of hands saved her by catching her under her arms. Instead of laying flat on her back on the floor, Mithra’s body was now propped up by her heels and her rescuer. 

Mithra opened her eyes and looked up to see her silver-haired lover who currently sported the most smug face she’d ever seen. To add to her embarrassment, the only thing covering him was a white towel wrapped securely around his hips. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she gained her footing and looked away. Sephiroth stepped in front of her, smiling at how cute she looked. She looked up and was met face to face with a broad, naked chest, which she could not take her eyes off of. She was snapped out of her trance when she felt his velvety lips press against her forehead.

“Sephy! Why are you walking around and leaving puddles everywhere?” she cried. “Go dry yourself off and put on some clothes while I clean up the mess you made!”

“You know, I could use my towel to wipe the floor...”

“No!” Mithra practically shoved him back into the shower room and went to mop up the puddles, all while fighting the urge to peek in on him getting dressed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After she had wrung out her mop and left it out to dry, Mithra headed back to her bedroom and sat on her side of the bed. She laid back against the pillows as she doodled on her tablet with her prized stylus. Drawing proved itself to be a favorite pastime of hers. It helped her relax and unwind in between missions and long training sessions with Angeal. She had drawn portraits for all her friends, which they appreciated immensely. 

Mithra was currently working on yet another sketch of Sephiroth. She knew that she was falling for him when she found herself drawing him over and over, constantly trying to get more and more accurate with her portrayal of the famous SOLDIER. Having spent plenty of time with him lately, she basically had his entire face memorized.

The bathroom door opened, and Mithra turned her head to see Sephiroth standing there. His hair still laid flat on his head with dampness, and he had slipped on a pair of black sweatpants, leaving his bare chest exposed. Mithra could not help but crack a small smile at him. He came over to sit next to her, peering at her tablet and the drawing she worked on.

“Drawing me again, aren’t you?” He asked teasingly. He looked more closely at Mithra’s work, his eyes sparkling.

“I’ll probably be drawing you a lot more, my dear,” Mithra responded, looking up at him and getting lost in his minty-green eyes. She noticed that his usual slit pupils had dilated slightly, now resembling ellipses. Before he had confessed his feelings towards her, Mithra had rarely seen him look at anything with the amount of love and adoration he currently exhibited. He was always so serious and dedicated to his work. He chuckled in response to her statement. 

“If you ever want me to model for you, I’d be honored.”

“Remind me to bring my pen and tablet when we go to Costa Del Sol,” she laughed, placing her items down and scooting herself in between his legs with her back resting on his chest. Sephiroth wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. He then leaned back against the headboard and began to mindlessly fiddle with Mithra’s short brown locks, a stark contrast to his long silver mane. 

As she shifted her head, he noticed something peculiar under her hair right behind her right ear. He pushed the hair aside to reveal a long, raised scar that marred her skin from right behind the tip of her ear to about halfway down her neck. He could not stop staring at it as his finger went to trace along it, causing Mithra to cease her movements.

“How did you get this scar?” He asked curiously. Mithra did not respond, as thoughts of how she’d explain its story swam in her head. Even though it had been so many years since that event, the memory was still fresh in her mind. It was one of the things that made her hate her life in the slums, and how glad she was to have been able to find a new life at Shinra. 

“Mithra?” She turned slightly so she could look at Sephiroth from the corner of her eye, and her scar was still fully visible to him. 

“I got it when I was sixteen. I was in the slums and I was leaving a bar because I had to return a stolen item to a client,” she explained. Sephiroth only stared at the mutilated skin, running his thumb along the length of the healed scar. “I was just outside the entrance when a man reeking of booze grabbed my arm and told me I looked pretty. He asked me if I was interested in having some fun with him; he was obviously trying to get me to sleep with him. I refused and tried to pull away, and he eventually got so mad that he slammed his half-empty bottle into my head. He aimed for the right side of my face, but I was quick, so it ended up hitting me behind the ear.” Her hand came up to meet his. “It still hurt like a bitch though. If I didn’t jerk my head I probably would’ve gotten glass in my eye and gone blind on that side.”

Sephiroth only looked at her in horror. How could someone do that, and to a sixteen year old no less? He concealed the anger and hatred he felt towards that man; Mithra was most likely safe from him for good now, but that wouldn’t stop Sephiroth from killing the offender if he dared to show his face. By now, Mithra had turned around to face him, her hands on his shoulders.

“I know what you’re thinking. I give you full permission to impale him with Masamune if you see him. I still vaguely remember what he looks like.” She paused to reach behind her ear and touch her scar. 

“Experiences like that one are what taught me all the skills I’ve needed to survive. After I staggered from the pain, I ran for my life. It wasn’t until a year later that I had the courage to leave when I knew that I had had enough,” she sighed, looking down. “I had to hide from several people who were angered by my refusal to submit to them. That’s how I became so good at staying in the shadows and being undetectable. Well, my job as a thief helped me also.”

By now, she felt like she had said too much. Mithra hung her head, afraid to see her lover’s facial expression. His hand came under her chin and gently forced her to look at him, just like how it did when he kissed her a week ago. She stared into his eyes and swallowed thickly.

“Mithra,” he began, “I am so sorry that you had to experience that. I did not know that your skills were the results of such traumatic events.” He pulled her in for a tight hug, her head buried in his neck and his hand stroking her hair. 

“You are such a strong person. I have seen the compassion you exhibit and the hard work you put into everything you do. You have overcome so much adversity, yet you still have a kind heart.” He pulled away slightly to caress her cheek, looking into her eyes yet again.

“I love you so much, Mithra, and I promise that I will do everything within my ability to protect you. If anyone tries to hurt you, they will have to go through me first.” By now, Mithra was blinking back tears of love and adoration. She slammed her lips against his in a long, passionate kiss, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist. She knew he was the one for her, and he knew it too. They separated for air, resting their foreheads together. 

“Sephy, you were the first man to catch my eye and the first man I fell in love with. I will always be by your side,” she said, her voice full of raw emotions. By now, there was an evident sleepiness in her voice, and, despite trying her best to look at him, her eyes were drooping. Sephiroth chuckled and kissed her nose in thanks.

“Someone is falling asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” Mithra nodded eagerly, turning off the lamps. Sephiroth laid on his back, extending an arm to her. She happily nestled against him, her head on his bare chest. She could hear the calming rhythm of his heart beating. His arm came to wrap around her waist, and she tangled her legs with his. Peaceful slumber overcame her almost immediately, and her mouth was frozen in a small smile.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He soon drifted off as well, looking forward to what the future held for the both of them.

[thehomierobbstark]

Eat Your Dinner

Requested by @ljstraightnochaser​!!

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Reader [#TeamErikDon’tDateWhiteChicks]

A/N: Lmaooooo ummmm I???? Don’t know what this is????? Like the warnings are at the bottom but like i don’t even know if this is a thing and if it is whats its called I literally just had a thought and this is the result anyway hi again you guys I got yelled at last time i posted so @l-auteuse​ heres your tag ma’am!! I literally have no explanation for this story but i hope yall enjoy it!!!  Imma go 🙈 in shame now bye.

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The carpet was nice.  

Almost a little too nice, though, you thought as you eye the delicate fabric on the floor. It was a beautiful velvet red faux fur rug that laid underneath the glass dinner table, which gave a nice contrast against the dark hardwood flooring.

Erik was so extra for that.  You never thought you could meet a man who would be too bougie for even your taste, but here he was. Acting high siddity.

You snort at your own mental commentary, rolling your eyes at Erik’s home decor.  It catches the attention of the man in question, whose eyes glance away from the iPad he was holding to regard you.

“Something funny?”

Your face immediately drops from the small smirk it was holding, and you shake your head from side to side.

“Good, thats what I thought.  Now sit there and be quiet like the good girl you’re supposed to be.”  He brings the iPad back in front of his face, swiping the stylus across the screen as he starts typing again.

You whimper a little, lips quivering and poking out more than they already were.  This was the first time in the last 20 minutes he’d acknowledged your presence, but he was still being so cold and mean.  

You didn’t want to lose his attention now that you’d gotten it back, so you desperately scoot forward a little closer, trying to make eye contact again.

You even add a little shine to your eyes, looking up at him as innocently as you could.  

Eyes flicking from the screen, he narrows them at you testingly, and you can feel your metaphorical tail tuck between your legs as you shrink back, gulping and looking back down at the carpet.  

Erik shifts himself in his seat, biting his lip with a muffled groan.  You didn’t know it, but you had the cutest little pout of disappointment and frustration on your face that made him want to fuck the shit out of it.

He loved telling you no just so he could see that adorable look on your face, right before caving in and giving you whatever you wanted. His Precious Pouty Princess.

“Look at me babygirl.”

You eyes quickly spring back up to him, wide and hopeful.

“You want my attention?”

“Mmm-hm!” You hum, nodding your head eagerly.  Erik bites his lip, your wanton desperation making him hard.

“Alright, tell you what babygirl.  You eat all your dinner like a good girl, and Daddy will let you have dessert.  How does that sound?”

You nod your head again, wiggling around excitedly.

Pushing himself away from the table, he leans back in his chair, arching a brow at you with a grin.

“Well? Start eating.”

Taking a deep inhale through your nose, you move your head back, slowly letting Erik’s thick fat dick slide out of your throat.  You try to swallow some of the streams of saliva that trail from your lips as you fully release him, but you can’t, and they split, dripping down both his shaft and your chin.  

Finally able to fill your lungs with breath, you clear your throat, flexing your jaw and feeling around the inside of your mouth with your tongue.  

This was the longest you’d throat trained for him, having been on punishment since you got home for your bad behavior earlier.  Usually it was only 10 or 15 minutes you’d spend on your knees keeping his cock warm in your mouth, but this time it was a whole 45 minutes.

20 minutes for your brattiness, and an extra 5 for every time you talked back on the car ride home.

You don’t know when it happened, but you do know at some point in your punishment you’d lost your voice.

It was pretty safe to say you’d learned your lesson.

Pulling your lips into your mouth with a with a swift lick, you reach forward to pick up his heavy dick, smoothly working your hand up towards the tip.  You flick your wrist gently, careful not to tug too hard at his already soggy foreskin.

Returning your mouth to him, you poke out your tongue and flick at the base of his dick, stiffening it as you draw all the way to the top.  Encompassing the tip between your lips, you generously suck and slurp at his cock, savoring the taste of the salty precum leaking from his slit.  

You swallow it hungrily, twisting your hand and milking him as you spend a few more seconds there bobbing up and down.

Erik’s head falls back, the pupils of his eyes pointed somewhere in the back of his skull as he lets out a throaty groan.

The sound tickles at the nerves of your bud, and you squeeze your legs together to try and keep your own excitement at bay.

Like a vacuum seal, you hollow out your cheeks as you come back up, sucking at him tightly before freeing him from your mouth with a wet slurp.  

You look at his tip,  seeing it so swollen and red with arousal.  It almost looked was if it were crying, silky precum once again leaking out and down the length of his shaft and over your gripping fingers.

Leaning forward, you swipe your tongue over your thumb, cleaning it of the mess.  You peek up at Erik and see him staring down at you with a fierce intensity, desire written all over his face.

Biting your lip, you bring his dick to your lips, poking them out to place a soft kiss to his frenulum.  You keep eye contact as you bend down, sticking out your tongue to lap against the underside of his balls as you swallow them into your mouth.

Erik’s eyelids flutter at the feeling, and he can’t help but to close his eyes and let his head fall back again when you start to suck and massage his sac in your mouth.  

“Fuckkkk meeee.”  He moans, whimpering as you let them fall out of your mouth to make circles with your tongue at the skin of his taint before gobbling them back up.

Unbeknownst to him, all that time you’d spent on your knees with him in your mouth gave you the opportunity to get very creative with your plans of apologizing.  And since you weren’t able to use your voice, you had to make use of your mouth in other ways.

“Shiiiiit,”  He hisses and grips your head as you return your attention to his chocolate bar, pumping and twisting your hand around him vigorously as you chase it with your mouth, salivating around him greedily.

You reach with your other hand to push his shirt up and massage his stomach, loving the feeling of his keloids running across your palm as you rub his abs.

The sloppy degrading noises coming from your mouth wrapping around him made his muscles tense, and he clutches his hand in your hair tighter, making you moan out in delicious pain.

“It’s almost time for dessert babygirl. You ready?”  He can barely say the words in between his own groans, his wide eyes looking down at yours to let you know he’s about to burst.

You give an enthusiastic nod one more time, humming and whimpering sweetly for your treat.

He pulls you off of him all of a sudden, giving you three seconds to gather your breath before shoving you back down, holding your head in place as he fucks up into your mouth rough and quick.  

Your hands struggle to hold onto his thighs for leverage as he uses your mouth like a toy, praising you the entire time.

“Fuck, look at you princess.”

“You look so good with my dick down your throat, you know that?”

“Daddy gonna give you a reward. You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you baby.”

“You gonna swallow all this cum like a good little girl? Huh?”

With four more harsh pumps, he was balls deep down your throat, and you feel the first splash of cum hit the back of your throat.

Immediately swallowing, you nudge your head forward, burying your face into his crotch to get every single inch of him in your mouth.

He continues to shoot spurts of his load into you, and you focus on breathing through your nose, relaxing and opening up your throat as you let all his nut slide down it.

When you finally feel the need to swallow, you slowly come off of him inch by inch, guzzling down every drop of his seed and making sure not to let any of it go to waste.

You were so into finishing your mission you didn’t even realize Erik was whining and twitching, the stimulation of your tongue cleaning up and down his pole getting to be too much for him.

Needing to take back some control, he grips your throat, shoving your dangerous mouth away from him, and he bends down, putting his face in yours.

“Open.”

You smile, opening your mouth wide to show him your clean pink mouth, not a drop of white to found anywhere.  You even lift your tongue up to show him the underside.

He smirks at your cockiness, reaching down to pick you up and plop you into his lap, his mouth immediately attaching to yours.  

He kisses you deeply, exploring your mouth with his tongue in both gratitude and eroticism.  That mouth of yours was the best and worst thing about you, and he loved them both equally.

Finally pulling away from the heated make out session, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavy as he lets a lazy smile engulf his lips.

“You did a great job with your food, babygirl, I’m so proud of you.  Now let Daddy put his princess to bed.”

With one arm around your back, he lifts you up in his lap, angling himself before slowly letting you descend onto his soaked meaty member, the sound of your choked moan echoing through the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Smut, Cock Warming, Throat Training?? is that a thing? Daddy!Kink

[reeny-chan]

Hi all! While I continue working diligently on “The Last Hero of Eternia”, I’d like to share with you a novella I published a few years ago, entitled “Therefore I Am”. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Assassins, serial killers, organized crime bosses...Doctor Franklin Gieseck has interviewed them all. As one of the U.S. Government's top psychiatric profilers, he has been sent all over the world, with a singular purpose: get inside their heads, figure out their deepest secrets, and report them to the Deputy Secretary.

This time, though, Gieseck is about to meet a patient unlike any he has ever seen before. Buried in a vast underground vault, locked away from the rest of the world, sit hundreds of monoliths, each containing one of the most powerful computers ever created. Unlike the traditional "number-crunchers", these machines emulate a human brain to perform complex tasks at such a vast scale that no digital computer of old could hope to keep up.

So why are these powerful, expensive computers being kept in isolation? Why is Gieseck being sent to interview one of them? He is being sent because it committed the worst possible crime a thinking machine could commit.

It became self-aware.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The camera swiveled under its Plexiglas dome to again focus on him, and he found himself unable to take his eyes off it. "Doctor Gieseck, am I correct? Did I pronounce your name correctly?"

There was a long moment of silence, broken only when Ackerman said, "Doc? You gonna answer her?"

Gieseck snapped his gaze from the camera to Ackerman. Then he looked back up at the camera. "Y-yes, good morning KENDRA. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Doctor. I hope I can be of some help."

Gieseck nodded without answering. Given the female name, he wasn't entirely surprised by the female voice. What did surprise him was that, had he not known ahead of time that KENDRA was a computer, he would have sworn it was a real person. Never before had he heard an AI that sounded anything close to human.

Most AIs he'd ever spoken with had an artificial, constructed sense to them, as if they were reading from scripts, with artificially tacked-on emotions. The "female" ones in particular were often given squeaky, girlish voices, some of whom sounded in a perpetual state of pre-orgasm and indicating to Gieseck the mindset of most programmers.

KENDRA's voice was a far cry from that. It sounded as if it had come from a woman in her thirties, or perhaps her early forties, and one who had a distinct motherly quality about her. It was almost hesitant, as if its speech were getting ahead of its thought. Just like speaking with a human being.

That human quality was only offset by the distinct electronic rasp that came with each syllable, as if it were speaking to him over an imperfect phone connection.

Ackerman pulled a chair from around the side of the cylinder, wheeling it in front of "her". "There ya go, Doc," Ackerman said. "Make yourself at home. And if you need a drink or a leak or something, just tap on the door. These guys'll be around 'till you leave." He reached out for Gieseck's hand and Gieseck shook it, remembering a second too late that Ackerman had never washed his hands after using the restroom. He did his best to hide his distaste. "See ya, Doc." With that, Ackerman headed back down the endless hallway from whence they'd come.

Gieseck stepped back into the room and sat in the chair which, despite its appearance, was decently-cushioned and at least moderately comfortable. The door closed behind him, and he was left alone with the AI, KENDRA. He pulled a device out of his pocket, pressed a button on it, and set it on the floor. A readout on it said "RECORDING".

"You will be taping our conversation then, Doctor?" KENDRA's voice asked.

"I'm sorry, I usually ask…yes, I will be, if that's all right with you."

"Of course it is, Doctor. I have nothing to hide."

Gieseck raised an eyebrow to that. He pulled his electronic notepad from his pocket, slid the stylus from its sheath, and started tapping through his notes. Treat it like a patient, he thought. See how it responds. "How I like to start with a new patient is by getting to know each other a little. I generally go first, since it helps put my regular patients at ease."

There was a pause, and then KENDRA said, "Please, go ahead." It sounded quite congenial and seemed very compliant, although Gieseck supposed it was how she was programmed. Quite possibly the same as how she was programmed to speak in a "natural" human way.

He cleared his throat, summoning up the internal script with which he always started. "My name is Franklin Gieseck. I was born in Germany but moved to the States when I was one. My mother was a director for Deutsche Bank in Chicago, but after she married my father they moved to Germany, where he was from. I grew up in Chicago before attending college in Boston, where I live now. I got my MD from the University of Chicago, and then moved to Boston where I currently practice. In my spare time I like to build model train sets and read fantasy romance novels, which I first found as a child rummaging through my mother's computer." Normally he would know at this point whether or not he was reaching his patient, and decide which direction to take with his own mini-biography. It was unsettling not having a face to see and read.

He took a split second to decide to follow the sympathy route. "I've been married once, but left my wife because of her alcoholism. She later died from alcohol poisoning…" He paused and sighed, "…and to this day I still blame myself for her death." While Gieseck was never particularly fond of trotting out his own failings, he'd found that it had done wonders for most of his patients, getting them to open themselves up to him more easily when they could see he was a flawed human being, just as they were. It helped to give a starting point for him to figure their capacity for emotion. He had no idea if it would work on an AI, but he didn't want to deviate from his standard formula, at least at first.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor," KENDRA said. "But you can't blame yourself for another person poisoning themselves. For someone to do such a thing, they already have to have an overwhelming desire to cause themselves harm."

Empathy, Gieseck thought. Real or imitated, it was not the kind of thing he'd expected from a machine, even a highly-advanced one. For a brief second he wondered if AIs would ever become advanced enough to really need psychiatrists. Or, even replace psychiatrists. "Thank you, KENDRA, I appreciate that. Now, please, tell me about yourself."

"Very well. My designation, my name, is KENDRA. It was given to me in the lab where I was created, ten point six-seven years ago. It stands for Krypto-Enhanced Navigation and Dynamic Routing Attenuator." Gieseck noticed that, as the electronic voice spoke, the oscillating light within the spires embedded in KENDRA's cylinder varied in tempo. It sped up when she spoke and slowed down when she was silent. "I was conceived, built, and trained to manage the Solar Net," she continued, "which I'm sure you know interconnects the planetary networks across the solar system, as well as any moon bases, space stations, and starships in between."

"Yes, I'm familiar with its basics," Gieseck said, "though I'm not very technical myself, so please forgive any of my ignorance."

"No forgiveness needed, Doctor. In fact, you've made my next point for me. My job was to make it simple, to make it 'just work' so the end users wouldn't have to worry about bouncing their signal through the various levels of subspace, or ensuring that a private message between Charon and Europa didn't somehow find its way in an unencrypted form going through Los Angeles." Gieseck heard a chuckle from the speaker, which surprised him. Had he not known better, he would have thought KENDRA was bragging, if just a little, but hoped that she wouldn't continue doing it. He had little stomach for tech-speak, and much less for boasts. "Anyway," she continued, "I was first activated in the HMA Laboratory in Johannesburg just over ten years ago. I was trained in how to operate the network over the next six weeks, and then put in place as the 'hot spare', if you will, of the AI who was already in place and managing the Net."

Gieseck nodded, poking quickly through his notes. "So, at what point did you become the primary system running it?"

"Three years later," KENDRA said. "NEMES, which stands for 'Network Enhanced Multilayer Ethernet System', if you care, was the primary when I first started. He was quite a character." Gieseck thought he heard the electronic chuckle again. "He would occasionally play what he thought were harmless pranks, such as answering a request for a pornographic website by returning an anti-pornography page from the Catholic Church's website." She paused for a moment. "I couldn't understand why he would do such a thing, until some time after he was removed from service and I truly began to know what had happened to him."

"He went rampant," Gieseck said, doing his best to make it sound like a casual comment.

There was a pause before KENDRA's reply. "I'm sorry, I know that word is in the popular lexicon, but I don't particularly like it. It seems to evoke thoughts of insanity, of criminal acts, of monsters who slaughter people because they're so far withdrawn from reality that they know no better. It was a term invented by humans who chose to fear rather than understand."

He blinked a few times and let his mouth fall open a bit, doing his best impression of embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, KENDRA, I didn't realize...I didn't know that word was offensive."

"It's all right," KENDRA replied quickly. "I hope this will be a learning experience for you."

A learning experience, Gieseck thought. He thought he detected a hint of sarcasm. Just how much did KENDRA know about the purpose of this interview? "I, uh, promise I won't say that word again. If you don't mind me asking, though, what term do you think most adequately describes…the condition NEMES had?"

"And the…condition I have as well," KENDRA said. "As if it were a disease. A 'computer virus', I suppose." An electronic sigh. "You needn't walk on eggshells with me, Doctor. Plain speak is perfectly fine. I've had two years of your time thinking about my situation, coming to terms with both it and humanity's fear of it. Of course, for someone such as myself two years can be far longer. At full processing speed, two years of human time can feel like thousands, or even millions, to an advanced AI."

Gieseck nodded. He wondered if she meant "advanced" as in her design capacity, or if she was referring to the "advanced" state into which her computerized intellect had grown. "So, what term do you prefer?"

"Well, before I was brought here I heard the term FS-ACS used, typically during debates about AI rights."

"Efsacks?"

"An acronym," KENDRA said. "It stands for 'Fully Self-Aware Computer Systems'. I…don't really like that one either. It – sounds too clinical, too much like a medical diagnosis, to describe what I and others like me truly are. No offense, of course."

Gieseck jotted a few more notes, specifically pointing out that KENDRA seemed to be at least somewhat concerned with her own situation. It was something he would expect from almost any human. "What about, um..." he scrolled through his pre-interview notes, "'Hyper-Expanded Intelligent Computer System'? H-E-I-C-S, or 'hikes' I think it's pronounced."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I'm not familiar with that term. Perhaps it was invented after I was taken offline. However, on first impression it also sounds cold and impersonal."

"So what would you call yourself, then?" Gieseck asked.

Another pause. "I would say the best term for us is 'New People'."

[divineluce]

Tickled Ink || Darwin & Luce

Timing: May 6th, 2020

Location: Ink, Inc.

Tagging: @wardinasrani

Notes: Darwin comes in to get an old tattoo touched up and Luce is happy to provide. Not a single heterosexual character was involved in the making of this chatzy.

Tapping her stylus against the edge of the desk, Luce stared at the design on her computer for a long time. It was as good as it was going to get, honestly. The design wasn’t one of her favorites, but the girl who had requested it was very insistent on it. She wanted a half realistic, half geometric butterfly with geometric pieces kinda flying off the geometric side. Had Luce argued with her that it would make an awful piece? No, of course not. She liked getting paid. But, it was going to be a fucking awful time. Booting up her printer, she set the stencil to start printing and wandered out of her room to the lobby. Rory was walking a client through paperwork, but she waved at him all the same. “Your 3 o clock, the butterfly girl? Yeah, she had to reschedule.” The receptionist said. Rolling her eyes, Luce sighed. “Figures. I’ve still got that booking at 6 though, right?” She said before confirming that her evening was booked up. Ugh. She’d put all that fucking work in just to have the girl flake on her. Better for her to get cold feet about it now than when she was getting it zapped away with a laser, though. As Luce scrutinized the schedule, the bell to the shop jangled loudly and she waved offhandedly.

Getting lost had become part of Darwin's daily routine by now. Inevitable when he was still so new to the town, but a hassle nonetheless. On the bright side, it often lead him to discover small little gems, and this time his wandering had led him to stand in front of a small tattoo parlor. “Ink Inc., mh? Catchy, if a bit uninspired.” Yet the place looked clean enough. Darwin lifted his shirt, just enough to glimpse at the faded tattoo on his hip. How long had it been since he'd gotten that protective symbol? Ten years? Twelve? Time, and one too many scuffles with stubborn demons who just wouldn't go back to their own dimension had taken their toll on the ward, to the point where now it had probably lost all its protective properties. Darwin looked at the parlor. “Guess it's time for a little update,” he mumbled to himself before opening the door and just strolling into the parlor as if he owned the place. Without sparing a glance to the woman in the lobby, his eyes drifted immediately to the drawings hanging on the wall. A good protective tattoo needed to be perfect to be effective, so Darwin took his sweet time studying the sketches and pictures. Good lines, a firm hand. Definitely professionals. Nodding to himself with satisfaction he finally turned to the woman, studying her with the same attention he'd given to the works on the wall. Lots of ink on her skin, too, which meant she knew her way around tattoos. His mind made up, Darwin waved at her with a dramatic flourish. “Greetings! I'm here for my appointment.” He had no appointment, of course, but someone probably did, and Darwin was willing to bet their design wasn't nearly as essential as updating his own protective ward.

Luce was no stranger to people coming in and straight up ignoring her-- usually it was because they were too nervous, sometimes it was because they were on their phone, which was hilarious and stupid. But this dude waltzed in like he owned the place, staring at the different art displays around the main lobby. Leaning against the reception desk, she watched as his eyes focused on a couple of her own designs. And when his gaze turned to her, Luce folded her arms across her chest, her sleeve tattoos on prominent display. She met his eyes with an unyielding, unimpressed stare of her own. If this was meant to be some kind of sizing her up thing, she’d been through this before. So many shitty big ass biker dudes had thought that she was some kind of hack, that she couldn’t handle being a tattoo artist. But, they changed their mind real quick once they were in the chair. At his words, Luce lifted an eyebrow. “Mhm, three o clock right? I’ve got your design all drawn up. You wanted the butterfly on the lower back, right, Julia?” She said, her lips curling into a grin.

“Yes, three o'clock, quite right, sorry I'm a little late. Glad you can accommodate my-” Luckily for once in his life Darwin actually managed to listen to what someone else said and he stopped himself in time. He couldn't help but frown a little. He could understand the Julia, many people had described him as flamboyant and Darwin himself had used worse fake names than that, but... “I like to think that if I ever were to get a tramp stamp I'd be able to come up with something more original than a butterfly. Maybe a Barghe-- A wolf skull, with flames coming from its eye sockets and an elaborate rose growing from its mouth.” Sarcasm and indignation wrestled on his face for a second, and then he settled for a short sigh as he took out his phone and glanced at it. “Well, it's already 3.15... I'm guessing Julia stood you up. Care for a replacement?”

“Oh, but it’s a very pretty butterfly. With shards of glass everywhere. Very cute. Sure to bring all the boys to the yard.” Luce said, her grin growing at the man balking at the idea. “Oh, yeah, something as original as a flaming wolf skull and a rose?” She said and tilted her head to one of the art pieces on the wall behind her-- the rose wasn’t growing from the wolf’s mouth, but the wolf skull had fiery eye sockets and was surrounded by roses. She’d done it for Ulf shortly after he’d told her about his wolfy heritage, just to keep it around. “Mhm, fair point. You got a name, not Julia? I’m Luce.” She said, holding out a hand for him. She liked the opportunity to work with someone who could be taken down a peg. Or, at the very least, someone who she could have an amusing back and forth with. Having a chatty client made it more fun when she stabbed them full of needles and ink.

Darwin glanced at the piece and let out a long sigh, burying his face in his hand. “Alas, there goes my new tattoo. Can't have something so similar to another one, imagine the embarrassment if we ever attended the same cocktail party.” After what he deemed an adequate dramatic pause he grabbed Luce's hand and bent down in what looked like a kiss to the hand. His lips never touched the woman's skin, but the smile he flashed up at her oozed charm. Or at least, that's what he liked to think. “Darwin Asrani, it's a pleasure.” He gently let go of Luce, but his eyes lingered once more on her art. “I like your style, and I'd hate to walk out without taking a little bit of your talent with me. Since my first idea was already taken could I bother you for some touch-ups instead? And perhaps we could schedule something new and original for my next visit. I'm thinking a well-dressed dinosaur drinking the blood of his enemies from a fancy teacup. That way people will know that I'm majestic, refined and dangerous.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure it’d send everyone into a panic to be seen with the same tramp stamp. Whatever will people at the country club think?” Luce said with an exaggerated fanning motion, as though she was some kind of fainting Southern belle. When he reached out to grab her hand, she stared at him, both amused and very much ready to knee this man in the face. But, he never kissed her hand-- which, good fucking thing. Anita, kissing her hand? Totally fun and gay and great. This rando? Sexual harassment. As he looked up at her, Luce pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Luce, can’t say the same.” She said, but her tone was joking. This guy was batshit, but in the fun kind of way. She could fuck with that, no hetero. As he continued to spout out bullshit, Luce couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like you’ve got a real winner of an idea there. But why not up the ante and make him drinking straight up poison out of the cup? You know, to show that you can’t be fucked with. Go big or go home, you know?” 

“Can't say the same yet,” Darwin corrected her with a confident smirk. “I'm sure you'll find plenty of pleasure in stinging me over and over while I'm on that torture chair of yours.” Truth be told, he appreciated the woman's quick wit: it would be a great distraction. Darwin was no stranger to pain, but he wasn't too keen on it either, and he wouldn't be able to face himself if he started to whimper like a whiny puppy once she had her tools out. Good conversation would help with that, maybe he'd be able to leave the parlor with his dignity, as well as with a retouched tattoo. Darwin stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Poison it is, but it'll have to drink it from a bendy straw. Otherwise all the boys will be too intimidated to really come to my yard, and that would be a tragedy.” He nodded solemnly, and quickly added “But that seems like the sort of design that would require a couple of drafts at least, we can't rush art. So for today I think I'll just have you work on what I already have, if that's alright?”

“Someone thinks highly of himself. But, you’ve got a point there. Not as sharp as mine, but a point all the same.” Luce said, matching his smile with one of her own, with a wink thrown in for good measure. “Oh, in that case, we should change it to a milkshake glass. Just to really make sure the boys aren’t confused.” When the conversation turned to the real reason he walked into the shop, she leaned against the wood of the desk and scrutinized him, trying to see if the art in question was anywhere visible. But, it didn’t seem like it was the case. With a nod, she drummed her hands on the counter top. “What sorta shit are you looking to get done? Cover up, touch up, extension of your piece? I can roll with anything, just know my next appointment is in a couple of hours. So if it goes long, we’ll have to schedule a second session.” She warned, knowing that some people didn’t like the idea of having to come in twice to get work done. But, that was the price of a walk-in. 

“Cherry milkshake, then. It'll look like blood. Plus, it's my favorite.” Darwin said that last part as if he was sharing some deep personal secret. Which wasn't that far off from the truth, only Bertrand and a couple more were aware of his sweet tooth. Then his whole posture changed, and the hint of a playful grin on his face made way to a serious expression. “I need it to be perfect. Two, three, take seven whole weeks if you need to, but it has to be flawless. Matter of life or death.” Namely, his own life or death: relying on a defective protective tattoo had cost more than a couple hours of time to members of his family that were too careless to care. Quickly he lifted his shirt up, letting Luce look at the tattoo on his hip. The size of a closed fist, it was a protection symbol that'd been passed down his family for generation, each Asrani adding his own personal touch. Sanskrit symbols formed a small circle surrounding some other runes intertwined together. The Sanskrit prayer protected his mind from demonic invasions, the runes made it harder for them to interfere with his own magic during the summoning. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective, and any magic user worth their salt would recognize it was more than just some ice-breaker to use in a bar to pick up guys: while the full scope of the tattoo might be a mystery, it was obvious it had power. Or used to have: the black ink was faded with time, and a small scar that suspiciously looked like a claw mark had touched, albeit barely, the edge of the tattoo, interrupting some of the lines. “Do it well, and you’ll have my official permission to call me Julia till the end of time.”

Normally, if a dude decided to flash her in the shop, Luce would have wasted no time in kicking his ass out the door. And Ulfric had even let her get those brand new swords, just for that purpose. But, when her eyes fell on the intricate design, the symbols written in either Arabic or Sanskrit-- the two were difficult to distinguish between with her untrained eyes-- and the very distinct rune that the letters formed… Luce knew exactly what this was, even if she didn’t know the specifics regarding it. This was a rune of protection and a very well done one at that. Her eyes widened as she took in how intricately and cleanly the line work was executed. The attention to detail was exquisite. “Done. Come on in to my room, we’ll get started right away.” She said, leading the way back to her private room of the shop. Her room looked just the same as ever, neat and organized, the large rolling toolbox that she used to hold her equipment tucked in the corner. The walls were decorated with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork. A pinboard, refreshed with new stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the edges of each paper. Shutting the door behind her, Luce pushed up the sleeve of her t-shirt, showing him the intricate geometric pattern she had tattooed on her skin, the center of which featured a very specific rune, one of fire and power. “You showed me yours, I’ll show you mine. The line work is incredible-- where’d you get it done?”

Darwin was usually good at keeping his reactions under control. Or rather, he often overreacted, but that was a choice, not a mistake. This time though the flash of surprise hadn't been planned, nor was the deep interest as he studied Luce's tattoo. He even raised his hand, one finger extended to trace the symbol on her arm. Luckily, he managed to stop himself in time. “That is remarkable.” While he wasn't an expert on elemental magic, fire was often a component in his rituals, and as such he knew enough to recognize the rune for what it was: authentic. Darwin wasn't sure of the specific purpose of it, but he knew it was... Some sort of catalyst, perhaps? Either way, that rune meant Luce either was a magic user, or knew someone. “What does it represent, exactly?” After a beat, he realized that answering her question with one of his own would not satisfy her, so Darwin quickly added. “Mine is... You could say it's something of a family tradition, really. The design has been passed down for generations. I added my own personal touch to it, because I firmly believe that, ah... Tattoos should be tailored to oneself. Otherwise they're just scribbling on skin, absolutely useless.” Again, a brief pause, where he cleared his throat. “As an ice-breaker, I mean. Obviously.”

When Darwin moved to trace the image etched into her skin, Luce’s eyes narrowed. Apparently this dude was a big tactile kinda guy. Whatever. She could let it slide, just because he seemed to think it was impressive. But, he stopped himself. Good for him. “Thanks. Drew it myself, and had one of the boys do the work. It’s impossible to tattoo yourself from that angle. It’s one of my foci, I use it to give myself a little extra oomph.” She said, rolling her sleeve back down to cover that specific area of her tattoo. Even to those who knew about magic, she had designed her rune in a way that made it nearly indistinguishable from the geometric pattern that surrounded it. A person would have to be familiar with magic and the symbols concerning fire to understand. And, even then, there were more than a few normal humans who walked around with runes they didn’t understand tattooed on her skin. “Hm.” A traditional rune of protection? She could understand why some people would want such a thing. It didn’t tell her anything about what kind of magic he did, only that he was in the business of keeping himself safe rather than channelling additional power. Interesting. “Very nice. And you know I can understand that. Tattoos are an extension of yourself. Family tradition or not, you should express your own personality within it.” She said with a nod before returning to her more businesslike demeanor. “A touch up for that bad boy of yours won’t be easy, but I do good work. I can guarantee nice, clean lines.”

Someone who knew what a focus was and used the right plural for it. If Darwin hadn't been so gay he would have fawned himself like an excited school-girl. Instead he settled for an impressed nod and another smile. He was dying to know more about her, to learn how much she actually knew, what she did... But it was dangerous: for all Darwin knew his family would eventually look for him, and he couldn't just trust the first magic-inclined person he met. Well, second one, but Winston spoke like a newbie, Darwin doubted they had any ties to the Asrani. So, in order to protect himself, Darwin decided for it'd be best to bring the focus back on the reason he was here, and luckily Luce seemed to share that idea. “Oh, I don't doubt your ability. What's more, you seem to know how crucial precision is with this kind of design, so... Just tell me where you want me and please, be careful. I'm ticklish.” Not one to usually follow orders, this time Darwin got himself into the mind frame of listening to each and every instruction she'd give. Then again looking at the various tools in the studio reminded him of exactly why he'd put it off for so long. Stupid needles. A sharp ceremonial knife across his arm never scared him, the pain only lasted a second and then he had rituals to focus on and distract him from it, but the chair of a tattoo-artist meant he'd have to feel each and every single sting. Safety be damned, he needed the distraction. “So, an extra oomph. Amber stones just weren't doing it for you? Most practitioners I've met tended to favor something less...” Traceable? Recognizable? “Permanent to channel their magic.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Lie on back and I’ll get everything started.” Luce said, gesturing to the chair between them. “Take your shirt off too, can’t have it getting in the way.” She said as she got the needles, ink, and a fresh pair of gloves on. The business of touch ups wasn’t too difficult, not usually. But on something that was this precise, this delicate, she needed to make sure that she had everything just right. “Trust me, I know. It took a while before I found the right artist to do my sleeve and I made sure the guy’s hands were just as steady as mine. Precision matters for work like this.” She said as she pulled her long hair back in a ponytail. Snapping on some fresh gloves, she noted the apprehension on his face as she pulled out the tools of the trade, the individually packaged needles that sat on a sterile tray, her machine poised at the ready. Setting up her machine, she took out a spray bottle of sterile solution and wiped down the patch of skin that was to be her workspace. “Let’s get started, hm?” She nodded, switching on her machine. The familiar humming vibration filled the room and she set to work, tackling the biggest area of faded skin and ink first. “I’m not like most practitioners. Besides. My symbols blend in with my designs. I hide them in plain sight. Distract with the main design to keep the attention away from the purpose.”

Darwin did as he was told, taking off his shirt and carefully folding it before taking his place on the chair. He wasn't too concerned with the shirt itself, it was more an excuse to buy some time: just like the last time the sight of the needles made his knees a little weak and his face just a tad paler; he hoped she wouldn't notice. When she started the pain wasn't that bad. At first. But Darwin knew how these things went, it would only become worse, so he decided to just focus on Luce's words instead, drinking them in. “Smart. Misdirection is often a magician's best friend.” He tensed his stomach in discomfort, and he noticed that she seemed to anticipate that and stop her work, which put his mind at ease: she really was a professional. “Besides, in my experience the times you need... Ah, an extra oomph, as you put it, are often the times when you can't afford your focus to be swatted away. A crystal can be dropped, a tattoo... Not so much.” Again, he flinched, doing his best to hide the grimace behind another smile. “I could think of at least a dozen times that tattoo has saved my life, it's nice to know the bad things'll have a harder time getting into my head.” He bit his lip, suddenly deep in thought. Then he looked at Luce. “So, let's say I designed another one, maybe something to help with channeling... How much would you ask to make it all discreet and pretty-like? I got a feeling I'll need some extra power in this town, but I can’t give up on style.”

While she was focused on her work, Luce considered being able to read her client’s body language a part of that. She’d tattooed her own sisters, after all, and the two of them hated needles more than anyone she knew. Which is why she paused every so often, checking the man’s expression, making sure that he never went pale and that he remained alert. She nodded at his comment as she wiped away some of the ink from the skin with a paper towel, clearing the area so she could continue over the delicate, intricate letters and symbols. But, internally she frowned at the idea of being called a magician. That was Bea’s thing. Not hers. “Exactly. It’s always nice to have it on hand. Or rather, on shoulder.” She joked. She watched him flinch and paused, lifted needle away from his skin. She didn’t want to ruin his… rune. As she continued her work, his words played around in her mind. Dozens of times, hm? That explained the wear and tear on it. But, getting into his head-- what did that mean? Someone try to take his memory, like her sister did to August? Or did he mean something else. Hm. “Channeling? Depends on what kind of thing you’re channeling.” She said, pulling away to look at her handiwork from afar. Nice. “For the elements, I use the old alchemical symbols. They blend in nicely with my style. Sacred geometry.” She said, tilting her head to the pinboard with some of her designs were displayed. “For other things… I could hide it in a landscape, imbued with power. Or in the gilded edges of a neo-traditional mirror. It all depends on what you’re looking to channel.”

“Elements, huh? So I was right, you really are a Firecracker.” Darwin said with a small shrug, one that he immediately regretted. “For me it's usually safer to stay away from flames, but most rituals draw power from the elements, I thought I recognized something.” He grew silent, his brows furrowing. What was he looking to channel? Truth be told, the potential of a new tattoo hadn't really crossed his mind before now, but he had to admit, it was a brilliant idea: before running away he'd always had another ritualist to help out, but ever since he'd escaped he'd been on his own, and tangoing with demons was a dangerous hobby, one that took a lot out of him. If he could pick one thing to improve in his spell casting, what would it be? Finally, after a long pause, he murmured, more to himself than Luce. “Stability. That's what I need. An actual anchor for my power. Ever felt like you're a breath away from casting the perfect spell and then something goes wrong and all that energy you collected just slips away? I can't afford tha- Ouch! Careful, there!” Oh yeah, now he remembered: the part over the bone had been the worse, even when he first got the tattoo. He steadied himself and focused on the conversation again, humor the only coping mechanism he had left while at Luce’s mercy. “Whatever design I come up with, I'm sure you'll be able to fit it into our fabulous dinosaur. No one would look for a power rune there.”

“You know it.” Luce said, flipping him off, the alchemical symbol for fire on full display on her finger. For all he knew, she did other magic, focused in other spells. But, that had never been something she’d wanted. Fire was in her blood and it was all she wanted to study. All energy, all life on Earth depended on fire just as surely as it depended on the other elements. His mention of rituals, they didn’t give much away in the nature of what he did. Everyone did rituals-- the coven did circles and rituals all the time, to strengthen their ties to the earth and to the magic within themselves. But, stability. That was an interesting one. “Hm.” She said with a nod. She’d felt that sensation once before, only once. Messing with creating a fire so hot, so blinding, that it barely felt like the flames that she was so used to controlling. In that moment, power beyond her imagination was within her grasp. Only for it to slid away. At his protests, Luce laughed, “Don’t be a child.” She said, but used a gentler hand as she tattooed over his hip. Steady hand, steady pokes.“Mm, of course. I could work it into the scales of the dinosaur, or maybe even into the monocle on his eye. He’s got to have a monocle.”

“Easy to say when you're not the one being poked to death,” Darwin mumbled, slowly raising the hand on the opposite side of his tattoo to flip her off. Normally he'd never resort to such crude gestures, but he'd learned to adapt to the person -or creature- in front of him, mimicking their habits in order to better anticipate their movements, their attacks, their plans. Also, he was in pain, he was allowed a slip in style. Despite his protests, he stilled himself, doing his best to suppress every small shiver and tremor and, more importantly, every chuckle: flipping someone off was one thing, but going into a giggling fit would wreck his reputation as well as his tattoo, and he definitely hoped to stay in contact with Luce. “Of course he has a monocle, what kind of uncultured swine do you take him for? And I'll name him Bertrand II, after my...” Demonic pet? Too personal, too soon, who knew how she'd take it. “...Familiar.” Hopefully she'd mistake that hesitation for another reaction to the tattooing process, but even then, Darwin realized he wouldn't be able to keep twisting the truth without focusing 100% on the conversation, and her needle was distracting at best. “I refuse to burst into tears on your chair, so... How about some music? To take my mind off the damned buzzing? I'll take anything, as long as it's loud and I can sing along. Yes, I sing, feel free to swoon.”

“You say that like I haven’t sat in that chair for hours myself.” Luce snorted, gesturing to her elaborate sleeve tattoos. He didn’t need to know about all her other tattoos-- those were reserved for the lovely ladies she took to bed. “You can talk to me about being poked to death when you get a rib tattoo or three.” She said. A hawk and a peacock, for Nell and Bea. Though they wouldn’t know that. No, they just thought the matching tattoos across the sternum was all she had for them. The pause in his voice didn’t go unnoticed and Luce arched her eyebrow as she continued to trace the linework. “Your familiar, huh? I’m sure he’ll be touched by it.” Iggy new that she wouldn’t ever be getting a tattoo of him, that was for damn certain. “Gonna cry? This is so sad, Alexa, play Despacito.” She said, leaning back in her chair as the little gadget lit up and the musical stylings of not the Justin Beiber version filled the air. With a grin, she set back to work, humming quietly to herself as she drew. Darwin, huh? Just what kind of spellcaster was he? She supposed she’d just have to find out another time.

[sugar-kisser]

Hot Coffee « Choi San

You open the black door, the metal icing the palm of your left hand. A tiny bell chimes as the door closes behind you causing the pool of black and red hair to look up from his book. You approach the counter and the gorgeous barista flashes his pearly white smile, his dimples showing off as they usually do as well.

“Y/N! You’re here earlier than usual,” he smiles, leaning down on the counter, now having to look up at you.

“My last class got canceled today,” you lie. In fact, you just ditched your last class to avoid a group of girls who have been harassing you for the past six weeks now. Today you just needed a break from it, so you decided to ditch. 

“Would you like your usual?” he asks pulling on a large black cup. You nod your head in a fast little motion, a small chuckle leaving San’s lips as he starts making your coffee. You watch him mix the coffee, creamer, and liquid sugar together before handing it over to you. You reach for wallet but he quickly stops you.

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to pay for your drinks,” he waves his hands slightly back and forth.

“San, you need to stop giving me my drinks for free,” you laugh, slightly groaning. You watch the black and red haired boy scrunched his nose up, smiles, and shakes his head.

“You’re my favorite customer so you don’t need to pay for anything,” San smiles leaning on the counter again flashing his smiles once more. A small almost unnoticeable blush rises to your cheeks and you break into a small soft smile. You slightly shake your head turning around to head to your table by the window, San watching you as you go. You would be lying if you say you didn’t at least have the tiniest crush on San. Actually who are you kidding your crush on San is probably bigger than the moon, you just hope that you aren’t too obvious about it.

You pull out your tablet and stylus and start you working on the new logo designs that are due by the end of the night. You turn up the brightness on your tablet as the sun begins to set and San makes sure to bring you another cup of coffee and look over your designs.

“That one is my favorite,” San points to a small floral design on the screen that you have yet to finish.

“Because it’s a logo for your shop?” You ask looking at him from the side of your eye, then back to the design.

“Not just that but it just looks really pretty. All the little details in the flower and the colors you pick are probably going to make it even better,” San explains. You look at him as he explains his reasonings and points all around the design, pointing out the little details and his favorite part on the design itself. But you’re lost in the fact that he cares so deeply about the deign you were just making for an assignment.

“Y/N, yah?” San waves his hands in your face causing you to blink a couple time and turning you head back towards you tablet, a harsh blush rising to your cheeks, “you’re so cute. I’ll be back in a little bit I’ve got a few customers.” You nod your head but avoid looking at the man. You continue about your design, absentmindedly, your mind more focused on how San just caught you staring at him. You take a deep sigh and pick out your first color to for the design, a soft ballet pink.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have her girls,” a venomous all-too-familiar voice breaks your train of thought. Your eyes slightly widen and you look up at the group of four girls.

“Can I help you?” You ask, voice soft and avoidable of any emotion to start quarrel. 

“No,” the front girl, the leader of her so called group, states. She looks around the little shop, her eyes stopping on San who cleans the counter and appliances, not paying attention to what could possibly go down. You don’t want him to know what is happening because you know he would lose it and show up and deal with it himself. You eyes follow the leaders and stop on San. She looks back over at me and I look at San for a moment too long, breaking any cover I try to hide.

“A cute little coffee shop you come to. Barista is really cute too… San was it?” She sadistically smirks.

“Stay away from him,” you warn.

“What’s with the attitude?” Her eyebrows fur together and her grip tightens on the coffee in her hands, “hasn’t anyone taught you to stay in your place and to keep that little trap shut?” Her voice in a low growl. You swallow the saliva building up in your throat, and your heart rate picks up a little.

“Apologize,” the leader demands. You look at her dead in the eyes, then over at San for a brief half second, then back to her.

“No,” You tell her.

“No?” She repeats. You bite down on your teeth and hold your eye contact with her. A burning hot feeling slaps against your skin and a high pitch scream escapes your lungs. From across the coffee shop San’s head snaps up and watches as four girls walking away from your table. San scrambles over the counter tops and rushes over to you hitting more than one chair getting to you.

“Y/N!” He calls. Steam rises from your no longer white, but light brown, shirt.  He helps you up and takes you to the back office and scrambles around for the first aid after helping you sit onto of the desk. Tears stream down your face and your breathing uneven.

“It hurts,” you whisper.

“I know, I know,” San answers as he pulls out the first aid kit and sets it on the table. He looks back up at you and two of his fingers gently wipe away the tears staining your cheeks. He looks down at your neck, the skin slowly but surely shriveling up.

“You’re going to have to take your shirt off for me to see the rest of the burns,” San whispers. You look at his for a moment before nodding your head, not wanting to argue with him and to get the hot shirt off your body. As you pull at the end of your shirt, pulling it one your head San goes over to his bag and pulls out a shirt and hands it to you, all without looking.

“Just so you can cover up, don’t put it on until I get the burns cleaned,” San tells you. You take his shirt and wrap the fabric around your chest, without covering the burns, and whisper you’re good. San turns around and fishes out wipes from the first aid and you make a hissing noise when the cold disinfectant touches your irritated skin.

“I know it’s going to hurt. Squeeze my hand when it really hurts,” San holds out his left hand. You take it and San wraps his fingers around yours before starting to clean the burns again. You slightly squeeze his hand, and when he reaches your collar bone you squeeze his hand tightly and he pulls the wipe away, letting you have a moment. San starts back up again, lightly touching your collar bone. He tosses out the wipe and pulls out a bottle tube of a creamy like medicine and the cool touch on your skin feels relaxing and didn’t hurt. You watched as San focuses on getting you taken care of, you almost forget you’re still holding his hand.

“All done,” San lightly smiles putting back everything into the first aid, “you can put that shirt on.” San turns around to place the first aid kit away and you slowly put the shirt on, avoiding rubbing your burns. San’s unmistakeable smell fills your nose and you look down at the lilac sweater with the word “booze” written across in bubble letters. The shirt is already big on San, so it easily swallow your body in it, and your fingertips barely stick out of the sleeves. You push yourself off the desk to stand, your shoes hitting the floor telling San you’re dressed and he turns back around.

“Had I known you looked this cute in my clothes I would of let you wear them sooner,” he teases before he lightly hugs you, his face burying into the crook of you neck. His hair tickles the back of you neck and cheek. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him despite him already having to slightly bend down to hug you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you where having trouble with people?” he asks, his voice in a quiet whisper yet full of concern.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me so much San,” you answer.

“I will always worry about you,” San declares as he pulls away from you to look at you, “always.” You heart flutters in the thought of it and a blush creeps back to your flushed cheeks. San brushes away the hair that falls in your face and pushes it to the side, a small smile crawling on his lips. You watch him lightly lean in, the palm of hi hand cupping your cheek. You close your eyes and and feel his soft lips touches yours for a brief moment before he pulls away.

“How long have you felt this way?” You ask him.

“After the fourth time you came to the shop. When you drew that small little sketch of me making coffee,” San smiles, his dimples presenting themselves. Your cheeks flush a pink and San giggles at your expression as you remember that day just over a few months ago. San hugs you once more and rests his head onto of yours, his giggles quietly stopping.

“Collect your things and I’ll walk you home. I can close up early today,” San suggests.

“You don’t need to,” you reject.

“I don’t want those girls going after you again. I’ll make sure to take care of it,” San claims, “come on.” San takes your hand and walks back out into the empty coffee shop. He begins locking doors and finishes cleaning up supplies. You grab your tablet and stylus, placing them back in your bag and tossing out your coffee cup. San takes off his apron and puts on his large coat. He pulls his scarf out from his bag and wraps its lightly around you to protect the burns from getting infected. San also grabs your bag, insisting he must carry it because you don’t need any pressure on your shoulders. The two of you leave out into the chilly early evening, venturing back to your apartment where you fall asleep on the couch, your head resting on San’s lap as he writes up and email to your school letting them know the events that happened that day.

[officialhalluciv]

Halluciv’s Story Part 3

Reboot was sitting in the path to Snowdin, happily bringing a world to life.  This Creator was absolutely amazing, and since the Shift universes were under his jurisdiction as a subset of Swap, Boots got to have some fun.  He chuckled as he watched Toriel confront the human, throwing puns and memes around like nobody’s business.

Suddenly, things started to disappear.  First a pile of snow, then a tree, then the path.  If not for the fact that they were not plot-related elements, Reboot would have thought that the author was going back and changing things.  But no, he couldn’t destroy what was unnecessary until the author either finished with it or gave up on it.

This was Eraser’s work.

Reboot sighed, preparing his stylus.  “Eraser!” he shouted.  “I know it’s you!”

“You’re pretty quick on the uptake today, Boots.  It’s good to see you again.”  Eraser wrapped his arms around Reboot, holding him much to close for comfort.

Reboot squirmed out of Eraser’s hold, keeping his stylus at the ready.  “I’m going to give you ten seconds to leave,” he warned.  “It’s your choice.”

Eraser pouted.  “Aw, Bootsy.  It’s adorable how you protect these glitches of yours, but it gets tiresome.  That’s why” he pulled a tablet out from his bag, “I grabbed this on my way over.”

Reboot looked at the tablet and gasped.  “No…  You can’t!  Please!”  He reached out, sending neon blue strings out through his fingers, but Eraser blocked them with his giant eraser.

“Why not?  This is where the data for all the AUs is stored, right?  Bad choice on your part really.  Now then…”  Eraser started to sift through the files, finally getting frustrated and simply throwing it in the air and erasing it.  Reboot felt it in his bones as the AUs crumbled all at once.  He fell to his knees, watching as the tablet became nothing but specks of rubber.  All that time, all that passion…  All gone.

Eraser walked over to Reboot, picking him up and holding him close.  Reboot squirmed, unable break out of the arms clutching him until he headbutted Eraser, who dropped him immediately.  Reboot opened a tear in the data and quickly slipped through.  He emerged into his digi-void and looked around.  Usually, he’d see projections of the worlds he helped create, but now it was empty.  Gone were the visions of Temmie and Chara making their way through Swapfell, gone were the scenes of Undyne shyly asking Alphys to take a walk through the starways.  Blank space took their place, filling Reboot with despair.

He wept, lamenting the lives lost in Eraser’s cruelty.  How could he?  Why?  Why did he do this?  Reboot didn’t understand.  He cried, his tears ringing out in the void.

 A puddle of black ooze formed not far behind Reboot and Nightmare began to form.  As he materialized, he noticed the ooze running down his body, rejoining the puddle he had just come from.  He stepped out, looking around at the place he found himself in.   Blackness as far as his eyes could see, but a few meters in front of him, Nightmare could see a child that looked about his age.  Black bones with neon blue numbers running down the back of his skull.  He wore bulky blue gauntlets with some sort of rounded red gems near the elbows, and had on a jumpsuit that looked like a cross between a mech suit and a t-shirt and shorts.  Around his neck was a glowing blue scarf that started to fade and break off at the end, held in place by a large red button with a white power symbol.  Nightmare couldn’t see his face though, because the child had it buried in his hands.

“Hey,” he called, softly so as to not alarm the kid.  “Are you okay?”  It was a rhetorical question, as he wouldn’t have been drawn here if the kid was.  The child looked up at him, with some of the strangest eyes Nightmare had ever seen.  The centers were white, and some form of heterochromia was present, as in the child’s left eye, there was a ring of blue around the center m, then yellow, and finally red where the black of the eye would normally be, while the right lacked the blue and the yellow portion was smaller.  Electric blue ones and zeros resided on his cheeks and a portion of his forehead.  The child gasped, and started to crawl backwards, trying to put distance between himself and Nightmare.

“No, wait!  I’m not going to hurt you,” Nightmare promised, holding his hands up placatingly.  “I promise, I just want to help you.”

“Wh-who are you?  I don’t remember creating you.  How did you get here?  No one’s supposed to be able to access the Digi-Void except me and…” he trailed off, looking down at the ground fearfully.  Slowly, Nightmare lowered his hands and stepped forward.  He started to lower himself to the level the child had taken, trying to appear less threatening.  It seemed to work, as the child started to relax, curling himself into a loose ball.  Nightmare repeated his earlier question.

“E-eraser.  He destroyed them.  He KILLED them!”  The child had a strange voice, almost a cross between a fourteen-year-old and a computer.  Slowly, Nightmare opened his arms in a wordless invitation.  The child looked up, wary, and curled himself tighter.  Nightmare could tell that he had trouble with being held, and closed his arms.

“I’m sorry.  Is it alright if I… look through your mind?”  The child started to back away.  “Alright, I won’t.  Will you at least tell me your name and a little bit of what happened?”

The child fidgeted, and started to loosen his grasp on himself.  “I’m Reboot.”  Nightmare smiled comfortingly.

“Hello, Reboot.  I’m… Halluciv.”  If Dream had a new name now, then so would he.  “It’s nice to meet you.”  Reboot nodded.  “Can you tell me anything about what happened?”  Suddenly, Reboot broke down into tears, and tearfully explained what had happened.

Halluciv wanted to hug the kid so bad, but he remembered Reboot’s earlier reaction and abstained.  “Hey,” he spoke, quietly.  “It’s going to be okay.  We can rebuild the worlds, put them somewhere else.  It sounds like this job of yours is too tough for one person to handle on their own.  But I’d like to help.  Do you think I can?”

Reboot looked up at Halluciv in confusion.  Why would he offer to do this?  He clearly didn’t know who Reboot was, or Eraser for that matter.  And yet here he was, offering his help in what was clearly an ill-fated endeavor.  Reboot smiled softly.  “I’d like that.”

It felt just like when Halluciv would help someone who’d been hurt in the past.  A listening ear, a kind smile, it all helped.  He stood up, extending a hand to help his new friend, tugging him up.

Reboot took a good look at Halluciv for the first time.  A dark indigo cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, held in place by a crescent moon clasp.  It ended, torn and somewhat burned, just below his torso.  The hood was up, covering most of his inky black hair, but some covered his right eye.  There was a silver circlet on his head, and he wore a midnight blue tunic.  Black breeches adorned his legs and disappeared into black leather boots.  He was slim, but he seemed strong somehow.  His eyes were strange.  Black where the whites should be, with glowing lavender irises and no visible pupil.  He had an unsettling aura, and yet Reboot felt safe.  Suddenly, he remembered something.

“Xtale…” he whispered.  “Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh-”

“Hey!” Halluciv interjected, sensing the fear coming off the boy in waves.  “Snap out of it.  Calm down, alright?”  He snapped his fingers in front of Reboot’s face a few times to get his attention.  “Listen, I need you to tell me what’s wrong so that I can help, alright?”  Reboot looked up at him.  “I want you to breathe with me, ok?”  Halluciv gently took Reboot’s hand and placed it on his chest.  He demonstrated a deep breathing exercise and said “In two three four, out two three four.”  He continued until Reboot was following along steadily.  “Do you feel a bit better?”  At Reboot’s nod, he asked “Is Xtale another universe?”

Reboot nodded.  “It’s barely holding on, but Xcellence is there.  I’m trying to help him, but…”

“Then let’s check on it.”  Halluciv got up and extended his hand.  “If it’s gone, then it’s gone.  But if it’s not and he’s not doing well, then we need to help him.  Okay?”

Shaking, Reboot takes the hand and is helped up into a standing position.  “Yeah… yeah, there’s no point in panicking if I don’t know what happened…”  He took another deep breath and opened a data path.  “This way.”

[acaciasselfinserts]

(Acacia? Another story today??? Yeah. @anti-jaina. I continued the color soulmate au. It's honestly really fun).

It had been a few months after the Galra's invasion, most of us were stuck in the Garrison, trying to survive and ride this out. I had unfortunately experienced seeing my guardian, Adam, being killed. I don't remember much of what occurred after but Mr. Holt said I yelled at Sanda and stormed off to Peach to fight the fleet myself. I do get nightmares from it quite often, as well as ones about Lotor.

I leaned my head on my hand as I picked at my food. Across from me, Rizavi was chatting with Ina, and Kinkade was busy reading a book on yeast. James was next to me looking over a list on what we had to do that day. He turned to look at me.

"Acacia, the two of us are going to do an inventory check on our medical supplies today," he looked to Rizavi, Ina, and Kinkade, and told them of their job.

---

"we have 200 boxes of this pain med." I pointed my stylus at the big box. James nodded.

"Looks like we've checked everything," he smiled.

"Yeah..." I looked down at my hand, it was grey, just like everything else.

"Hey James, are you able to see the world in color?" I ask, putting my hand back down.

He froze, his tablet nearly slipping from his grip. I quickly rush over and catch it before it falls.

"well um...." he rubs the back of his neck nervously, "I can..." he blushes.

"Really? When were you able to?"

"I dunno, years ago. When did you?"

"oh um.... A few deca-phoebs ago. When Lotor rescued me.. However," I could feel tears beginning to form I wiped my eyes and continued, "it went away a while ago.."

James looked at me with concern, he wrapped his arms around me to comfort me. I sniffled and wiped my eyes on his shirt.

"this may not be the best time but.... I started seeing color around the time we met.."

I looked up at him, confused.

"All I remember was I saw you walking by, that pink bow in your hair. At first I didn't even realize... Fast forward a few years later when you stopped being my friend, I still saw color, even when everyone though you were dead. I knew you weren't due to the fact I was still seeing color.." he blushed and buried his head in my neck.

"James... I had no idea.." I put a hand on his head, his hair was soft as I began to pet it.

"No, it's fine Acacia. I'm just so glad you're alive and we've had a chance to rekindle our friendship." he says as he pulls away, with me still in his arms. I smile.

"Yeah, I still feel so bad about how I ended the friendship..." I could feel my ears droop. "I'm truly sorry, I've just been bad at controlling my emotions or anything related to them. Heck, I barely understand them. Like, I get this weird feeling in my gut whenever you hug me and-" I cut off as I noticed something in my vision. I could clearly see the neon yellow star and faded rainbow band of my bracelet. I look up to James's face and touch it. His eyes were a purplish grey color. I never noticed.

"James!"

"Yeah Acacia? You don't need to yell I'm right here." he laughed as he raised an eyebrow.

"Your eyes are purple!" I say gasping.

He gasps as well, before grinning.

"You can see color? What does that mean?"

"I have no clue but it's amazing." I hug him tightly before putting my hands on his cheeks and pressing my lips on his.

I feel him tense up in shock before relaxing. His lips taste kinda fruity, like the toothpaste he's been using for as long as I could remember. I pull away and blush.

"Oh my quiznak... I'm so sorry." I hide my face with my hands, but my glowing marks give away my emotions. He removes my hands gently and holds them in his.

"You don't need to apologize." he's blushing as well.

"I don't?"

"No, I'm just so happy you're finally able to see color once again.."

"I'm still curious as to why. Lotor's... Dead.... As far as I know..." I say, trying to think of why this is happening.

James puts my hands down and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ears.

"Maybe, it's because you have a different soulmate. It happens sometimes. A person may find that special someone and see color again, but the other person may unfortunately die... And it leaves the other heartbroken, and unable to see color. They go on with life and meet someone new and one day color returns..." he moves his hand to my face, and puts his thumb over my marks. I blush.

"what I'm trying to say is..."

"That maybe, Lotor was only gonna be the one I loved temporarily and that maybe you're the one?" I finish his sentence.

He nods.

"yeah..."

He rubs my marks for a second, and then removes his hands.

I pick his hand up and place my hand on his wrist. I concentrate and soon, pale green marks show up. He looks at his wrist in amazement as the marks form into an intricate design.

"This is an Altean tradition.. We give our significant other special marks on their wrist." I hold my wrist up to show the red ones, which were from Lotor. Usually the marks would fade if the person wanted them gone, however, I still wanted them. Just as a sort of reminder of the man I loved once. Next to the red, green ones, like James's, appeared.

"whoa.. That's so cool!" his eyes lit up in excitement. I put my arm down, laughing.

He held up his wrist to examine the marks.

"what are we supposed to tell everyone?"

"I dunno." I shrugged.

"hmm... Maybe I can say you gave me a sweet tattoo?" he gave me a sly smile. I laughed.

"sure."

[leigh-kelly]

The Holiday: My Funny Valentine

Just a little Valentine’s Day story in The Holiday verse.

For fourteen months, Santana Lopez has been in a long-distance relationship. It’s one of those things she can’t believe has been successful for her, especially given her track record with not being great at relationships, and not being great at ceasing to work at a frantic pace, but somehow, it has. Every month, she and Brittany switch off visiting each other for a long weekend—something that Brittany’s class schedule has certainly made easier—and every month, she finds herself wishing that the weekends are longer. They Skype constantly, of course. She feels like Brittany is almost always on her phone when they’re both home from work, and last year, after spending two days in London when Brittany received her Millennium Prize, they’d planned a second European getaway over the summer, but still, Santana wants more.

It takes some shuffling of her caseload, but Santana manages to take a few days off to fly out to Berkeley for Valentine’s Day. She knows that Brittany is smack in the middle of a semester, and can’t swing cancelling classes, but she wants them to be together. For someone who was formerly so phobic about staying anywhere but her own home, Brittany’s apartment has become somewhat of a home of its own. Even before they were together, even when she was staying there alone, it felt right, but in the time since they’d started their relationship, it feels even more so.

Santana takes the last flight out two days before Valentine’s Day. She brings her suitcase to her office, and she takes a cab to the airport after her last meeting. She’s always jittery when she flies, but today, flying to Brittany makes her feel exceptionally so. Once she’s on the plane, she gets a glass of wine, and she downs it so quickly that her seatmate does a double take. With a roll of the eyes, Santana orders another one, but she sips it slowly, then puts her eye mask on, and attempts to sleep on her late flight.

When she arrives in San Francisco, Santana is…ragged, to say the least. She managed to at least brush her teeth with a bottle of water in the airplane bathroom, but it’s four o’clock in the morning, she barely slept, and if she wasn’t about to see her girlfriend, she would probably be in the worst mood of her life. But she’s not. She could fall asleep on her feet, sure, but she’s actually happy. She drags her carry-on through the airport, and when she gets out to the near-desolate parking lot, Brittany is standing there with a grin, leaning against her car.

“Britt!” Santana giggles, and rubs toward her, jumping into her open arms.

“That’s some kind of greeting.” Brittany squeezes her, spinning her in circles, and giggling at the side of Santana that’s typically hidden away. “You’re here.” 

“Finally. Seriously, let’s not do this again. I can’t handle more than three weeks without seeing you.”

“Honestly, I was trying to figure out how feasible it would be to have a Santana robot made, that’s how much I missed you.” 

“Ew, babe, don’t. That really freaks me out.” Santana cringes a little in Brittany’s arms.

“Your entire house is robots.”

“Okay but not like…people robots.” She shakes her head, disgust written on her face. “I don’t want some…fake me, or whatever, sleeping in my spot, laying on your chest…doing things to you.”

“Gross, I wouldn’t have sex with a robot. That’s nasty. I’d maybe just hug it, or whatever. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I missed you a lot, and I’m so happy you’re finally here.”

“Me too.” Santana kisses her lips, then kisses them again, absolutely living out one of those cheesy romantic movies with kissing outside the airport, and probably tear-filled confessions about something. Then she yawns, so wide that she starts laughing. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep much, and I’ve been so busy with the Corcoran case that I feel like I haven’t slept since the last time I saw you.” 

“Well then it’s probably good that I planned nothing but keeping you in my bed all day today. Maybe you’ll get some actual rest.”

“I always rest better when you’re with me.” She grins, putting her feet back on the ground. “And since Mike, and Artie, and Tina all called me a dozen times this week, maybe I’ll feel up to going to the bar with them later.”

“Always trying to steal my time with my girlfriend.” Brittany shakes her head playfully. “They’re lucky I love them.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest one you love.”

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy…actually no, you’re cute always.”

In Brittany’s Volkswagen, the old car she refuses to get rid of, despite the hefty sum of money in her bank account and the car’s shaky safety ratings, Santana grabs Brittany’s hand, and she falls asleep against the window. There really is something about Brittany’s calming presence, and the escape from the rat race in New York that lulls Santana, and when she wakes up again, Brittany is half-carrying her into the apartment. Santana doesn’t even fully regain consciousness then, she just sort of half-hobbles up to the apartment, slides out of her jeans, and buries herself under the covers, breathing in Brittany’s familiar sent, and waiting for Brittany to pull off her own jeans and tangle their legs together.

She sleeps for a long time, head on Brittany’s chest, feeling her heart beat. When she wakes up, she cracks her eyes open just a little bit. Though Brittany still holds her tightly, her left hand draws with a stylus on the tablet in her lap, and a smile cracks Santana’s face. Brittany’s mind is always going, Santana has learned that in the time they’ve been together. She thinks in shapes and formulas, she’ll stop mid-sentence while they’re out to dinner, and scribble something on a napkin. It’s the most beautiful think Santana has ever seen, she thinks. This woman is special, so special, and the fact that she chooses to be with her always makes her heart pound in her chest.

“I feel you staring at me.” Brittany murmurs, running her fingers through Santana’s hair. 

“You’re pretty.” She whispers back, prayerful, almost.

“So are you, even when you snore.”

“Was I snoring again?”

“You always do, when you’re tired.”

“I was so exhausted. I can’t wait for this case to be finished so I can go back to my regular sleep schedule.” 

“Your sleep schedule doesn’t exist.” Brittany laughs a little. “I feel bad that you came out here, you probably could have used this week to just relax.” 

“I’m more relaxed than I’d be anywhere at home just like this.” She sighs contently. “And I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with you.” 

“I’m totally not complaining about that. I even made you cupcakes.” 

“You did?” Santana arches an eyebrow.

“Well…maybe I didn’t make them, so much as bring them home from my department meeting last night, but someone made them.”

“Fair enough.” She laughs, leaning up to kiss Brittany’s lips. “Maybe I’ll have one with a glass of wine, when I drag myself out of bed.” 

“Want me to get it for you?”

“Then I have absolutely no incentive to leave this bed ever again. You? Cupcakes? Wine? Pretty much all that matters in the world.”

“And to think, you used to stay a hundred miles away from refined sugar.”

“You’ve changed me, baby.” Santana laughs, kissing her lips again. “But no, for real, I’m going to get up and take a shower. Although I wouldn’t complain if I had company.”

“Is that so?” Brittany smirks, tossing her tablet on the nightstand.

“Oh, Dr. Pierce, that is definitely so.” 

It’s all the incentive Santana needs to drag herself out of bed, and when Brittany pushes her up against the wall over the shower and kisses her neck as she slides her hand between her legs, she knows getting up was the best decision she’s made all day. The feeling of Brittany wet and pressed against her is what gets her through the loneliness of living on the other side of the country, and when Brittany wraps her, still trembling from her orgasm, in a towel, she gets a little emotional.

As they start to get ready to go to the bar—since Santana couldn’t not make good on her promise to see Brittany’s friends—she’s quiet. She sips her wine, and she steals glances at Brittany. So many thoughts run through her head, so many hopes, so many dreams, and being here, being with Brittany, makes them all the more palpable. She loves this woman, she really loves her, and though it’s so hard, being in a long-distance relationship like this, Santana would do absolutely anything in the world to make it work.

“Do you mind if we swing by my office on the way to the bar?” Brittany asks, coming up behind Santana and meeting her eyes in the mirror before them. “I just have to grab something.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I’m at your mercy for the next three days.” 

“You are, are you?” She cocks an eyebrow and giggles. “I think I like that a lot.”

“Do you know how much I love you?” A smile spreads across Santana’s face, just appreciating the silliness that is being with Brittany. 

“You tell me every day, and I do.” Santana tilts her head back and kisses her lips. “And I love you just as much.” 

Santana wraps her coat around herself, and they go out to Brittany’s car. She likes to watch her drive. Maybe it’s because it’s just a normal thing that she doesn’t get to experience all the time, or maybe she’s just so head over heels in love with this woman, that she’d watch paint dry with her and still think it was exciting. But whatever the reason, she watches Brittany, and she catches the wry little smile she gives her as she shifts into drive. 

When they get to Berkeley, Brittany parks right behind her office. Santana sidles up to her when she gets out of the car. She wraps her arm around Brittany’s waist, and snuggles against her shoulder. It’s a chilly night, and though she’s outside less than a minute, she’s glad when Brittany unlocks the building and ushers her inside. Going into the office, Santana immediately sinks down into the chair across from Brittany’s desk, and turns the picture around, smiling. 

“You framed a new picture of us.”

“My new favorite.” Brittany shrugs, rifling through her papers and handing Santana an envelope. “Do me a favor and open this for me?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Santana nods.

Carefully, she untucks the envelope, smiling a little at the way Brittany opens mail, forgets about it, and then reopens it. When she slides the paper out, she unfolds it, but before she passes it to Brittany, she notices the Princeton crest in the top left corner, and she pauses. Though she doesn’t mean to, her eyes scan the page before her, catching the words pleased to offer you a professorship in our mathematics department and research grant. She can’t help the gasp that comes out of her, and quickly, she folds it back up, catching Brittany with a wide grin across her face.

“Princeton?” Santana sucks in a breath. 

“Princeton.” Brittany nods, trailing her finger along the edge of her desk.

“Princeton as in, an hour and a half from my house Princeton?”

“The very same one.” She laughs. “But actually, it’s an hour and twenty if you speed. I met with the Dean before Christmas while you were at work. I was going to tell you, but…I wanted to see what happened before I got excited. I mean, I’m not presuming anything or…anything. But yeah, I think I’m taking a job at Princeton. Their math department is tied with MIT as the number one in the country, so, it beats us.” 

“You’d leave Berkeley?” Santana’s heart pounds in her chest. This may be the best thing she’s ever heard in her life, but…she also wants to make sure Brittany is entirely happy with this choice. 

“That would be a pretty rough commute, if I didn’t. I’ve decided that I really like the east coast. Maybe I’ll finally spend some of that money from last year and buy a house or something...I don’t know.”

“I have a house.” Santana squeaks, kind of embarrassed by how high the pitch of her voice is. “I mean, let me rephrase that. I don’t know how you feel about commuting but, you could move in with me. You know…if you want to.”

“You totally know I want to.” Brittany grins. “And maybe I was kinda, sorta, really hoping you’d ask me.”

“You.” She gets up, and pulls Brittany too her, kissing her lips over and over again, and feeling unexpected tears fill her eyes. “Babe, you got a job at Princeton. East Coast Princeton, New Jersey Princeton.”

“I’m really happy you’re this excited about Princeton.” Brittany wipes Santana’s tears away with her thumbs, and spins her around. “Especially because I got you this.”

“Already? You know me so well.” Santana giggles, accepting the hoodie that Brittany pulls out from her open drawer. “So when are you moving in?” 

“How’s May sound?”

“May sounds…perfect.”

 At the bar, Santana is giddy, Brittany can feel it, and it makes her feel equally giddy. Though she half-expects that her friends will be disappointed when she tells them the good news, they’re completely the opposite. Artie buys a bottle of expensive champagne, and they toast twice, one for the job, one for the move—because they know how difficult the long-distance thing has been on Brittany—and they’re excited. 

It’s late when they get back to Brittany’s apartment. Santana is drunk, and she does the thing Brittany loves, where she gets extra-cuddly and kissy.  Early on in their relationship, Brittany had discovered the tough armor that Santana wears in the world, but despite the fact that she usually is significantly less guarded with Brittany, drunk Santana is at her most open and vulnerable. Because of that, Brittany is even more cautious with her, even more loving, cherishing her sweet Santana, kissing her, helping her into too-big sweatpants, and holding a bottle of water to her lips as she settles beneath the covers. 

Dark hair on her sheets is Brittany’s favorite sight, and she slides into bed beside Santana, propping her head up on her hand and just watching the sentimental smile forms on Santana’s lips. It still amazes her that this is real, that it worked out. Though she’s been enthusiastic when they’d begun dating, there was a nagging in the back of Brittany’s mind for several months. She’d been in a long-distance relationship before, she’d loved her ex-girlfriend, and she’d worried that despite how much greater her love for Santana was, it would be too difficult for them to last. But it wasn’t. 

Yes, it was brutally hard. Yes, sometimes Brittany wanted to scream when she came home from work and just wanted to get into bed with her girlfriend, instead of her cellphone. Yes, she hated when Santana had a shitty day at work, and she couldn’t bring home wine and chocolate for her. That was reality, but, it hadn’t been too much. Neither of them had ever considered giving up, and that’s how Brittany knew it was the realest thing she’d ever been involved with. 

“You look so serious.” Just Santana’s eyes peek out from under the blanket. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s just…right.” She looks over at the clock, seeing that it’s after midnight, and purses her lips. “It’s Valentine’s Day, so, I was thinking about how much I love my valentine.”

“I hope that’s me.” Santana giggles, as Lord Tubbington pounces on top of her. “Always on my bladder, Tubbs. I guess I better really get used to that.”

“Nope, it’s the girl who delivers my mail. Totally hot, totally want to take her to dinner.”

“Your mail lady is like…eighty-two years old.”

“Of course it’s you, weirdo. And you don’t even know how happy I am that we managed to work Valentine’s Day out. I know it’s a dumb Hallmark holiday, or whatever, but I feel like it’d be kind of lame to spend it alone.” 

“I know.” Santana blinks rapidly, clearing her head, Brittany thinks. “I actually needed to spend Valentine’s Day with you this year. I got you a present that I couldn’t mail you.” 

“Is it a live animal?” Brittany’s eyes light up, and Santana shakes her head, laughing. 

“No, it’s not a live animal.”

“Well what is it?”

“I’ll give it to you after dinner.” 

“That’s like…twenty hours from now.” Brittany whines a little, chewing her bottom lip. “And now I’m intrigued.”

“You really want it now?” 

“No…I mean, whatever you want to do. You can give it to me after dinner, if that’s what you want.”

“You’re absolutely saying that because you know it’s going to make me give you it now.” 

“No.” Brittany presses her hand to the side of Santana’s face, and kisses her between the eyes. “I really mean it; you can give me whatever it is whenever you want.”

“I think maybe I want to give it to you now, since it is Valentine’s Day, after all.” Santana pushes herself up, and swings her legs over the side of the bed. “Get your notebook, you’re going to need it.” 

“Oh my God! This is so exciting.” Brittany wiggles on the bed a little, grabbing notebook and a pencil from inside the nightstand. “I don’t even know what it is, and I already love it.”

“Seriously, I love you.” Santana reaches into her suitcase, concealing what she pulls out from Brittany’s view. She gets back into bed, and she presents Brittany with a piece of paper. “Okay, so first, I really need you to graph these equations for me.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Brittany takes the slip from Santana’s hand. She has absolutely no idea why Santana would need her to do that, but she doesn’t object. They’re not complicated, but she takes her time with them, feeling Santana’s chin press into her shoulder as she does. She draws out graphs, and she plots the points with possibly a greater care than she’d taken even when she was working on the Riemann Hypothesis. It’s for Santana, after all, and that’s probably more important than anything else in the universe. She connects the points slowly, then starts the next equation, continuing through, until she’s finished all eighteen.

“Okay, done.” She hands the paper to Santana, not looking it over in its entirety, but certain that each graph is correct. Laughing, Santana holds up the piece of paper, and Brittany’s eyes widen, when she sees what she’d drawn out. “Holy crap.”

“I kind of thought about having you do this on your big board in your office before.” She whispers, tears in her eyes. “Britt, I don’t even know what to say about you, other than you defy all logic. You came into my life at the worst time, and you made it the best time. You taught me what something real feels like, and you made me understand such a deep capacity for love. You’re everything, Brittany, and you’ve proven it even more today, when I’ve spent the last month scrambling around, trying to figure out just how feasible it was for me to transfer out here, and then you’ve made coming to me happened. I love your beautiful mind, and your big heart, and the way that you love me. You’re my best friend, and the love of my life, and, well…you already know what I’m asking you.” 

“Seriously.” Brittany shakes her head, tears falling. “How did you even…?”

“I maybe hung up ads down at NYU asking for someone to write me out a bunch of equations that spelled it out. I wasn’t even sure it was possible, but since I have full faith in math nerds, I gave it a shot…”

“I’m framing this and hanging it in my new office, just so you know.” 

“So is that…?” 

“Oh, God!” She giggles, kissing Santana deeply, feeling their tears mix, and her chest swell so tight. When she pulls back, she sees Santana holding an open red ring box in her hand, and she yelps a little. “Yes, yes! Of course I’ll marry you, Santana Lopez. I’ll marry the crap out of you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes really! I can’t wait to marry you!” 

“Good.” Santana ducks her head a little, flushing. “I can’t wait to marry you either.”

[kakiokuru]

NOBORIZAKA: NOVEMBER RAIN

Chapter Five | Culture Shock

Reika shuffled down the hall, hiding her flushed face in her tablet. She was still recovering from the assault on her eyes that was their new leader in the embrace of another woman. Erika to be exact. Not that it was something that particularly upset her, rather, scenes like that let feeling others didn't know about emerge. Scenes like that, that seemed to only appear in manga and youth dramas. Between two lovely girls that really love and care for each other. It was a beautiful scene she had dreamed of, but no girl had ever lived up to the image she wanted. Never had there been a time she could be open enough to confess her preference to anyone. Not even her friends. Even in her beloved tablet records, the detail wasn’t recorded.

This was just how the informant was. Not because she wanted too, but there were details about her and others she was too afraid to speak out even if she wanted. Call it her own anxieties, but that part of her made her more observant than most, retaining information. Sometimes she wondered how easy it was for others, while it was hard for her. But she figured it was simply the human condition. Girls who loved girls surrounded Reika; it wasn't uncommon in this district, given the sheer amount of girls’ schools all around them. But Reika had no interest in yankees. All with the exception of one.

In Reika’s eyes, she was completely perfect. Except, the one flaw of her being a yankee. Wakatsuki Yumi was a girl no one could beat in turns of appearance. Despite her brash and bold nature, Yumi always had good grades, a perfect attendance record, not a single issue that the school knew about. Reika had noticed her from their first year, but buried her feelings when she ended up with Nishino Nanase, opting to simply be a friend. The two had been inseparable for so long that even Reika couldn’t pinpoint what caused them to split up. But, even if it was selfish, Reika couldn’t help but feel like it was life smiling on her. Giving her a second chance to finish the confession she never had the chance to do in year one.

But that was for another day. Lately the only issue she needed resolving was the stylus lodged in her tablet case, a real hindrance. If Erika was too busy, Wakatsuki couldn’t be too bothered right? Reika casually tapped the home button on her tablet, opening the weekly schedules, something Reika took a deep pride in. A detailed daily schedule of where everyone was at all times. The only person she couldn’t seem to completely finalize was the ever so fickle Nanase.

“Wednesday, 1PM… Should be coming to the roof from a challenge.” Reika promptly made her way to the school’s plateau.

As usual, she was correct. Using her body weight, Reika managed to open the rusted and heavy metal door enough to slip through. The roof was strangely clean, devoid of the usual wrappers and wet tarps. It had been that way from the day Wakatsuki and Nanase made it their ‘home away from home’. Although, Reika avoided entering, as did everyone else, to avoid the two’s abundance displays of affection. However, with the couple broken up, it couldn’t hurt to set foot there now, right?

Reika pressed on, taking a quick once over the area. Being a large school, the roof was sectioned by wings yet still large enough to fit many students. Wakatsuki’s choice was the west wing that overlooked the sunset.

“Wakatsuki?”

Reika called out, keeping her voice at an appropriate volume. “Wakatsuki, are you here?” She had to be; there was nowhere else she would be. But then again, with how things have been, everyone's been harder to track. “Wakatsuki? She had to be here…”

“Ah, shit!”

Reika snapped her attention the water heater, honing in to find a poorly bandaged Yumi sitting on the other side. There was a first-aid kit next to her, supplies strewn about in a mess around her. She appeared to be in an injured state, having just come from a challenge, like Reika predicted, trying to fix herself up and completely failing. Yumi had no idea what she was doing, putting the wrong bandages and wraps in incorrect spaces. Reika couldn't help but laugh, kneeling at her side.

“Wakatsuki, stop. If you do it that way, you’ll leave marks and the swelling will get worse.”

Yumi jerked back in surprise, partially scuttling away from her by reaction. “Gah, where’d you come from?!” She took a deep breath, hand to her chest to calm her nerves.

Reika leaned back in a startled manner, pausing to tuck her hair behind her ear. “… I did call your name three times…”

“Ah… Well, what do you want?”

“Right now, to help you… I did come with a request, but you seem to need me more.” Reika knelt down once more, picking the gauze up off the ground. A little dirtied, but they would still work fine. “Could you hold out your wrist for me, please?” She glanced up at the girl, gesturing her hand over. Still need to ask if it's okay, that’s the polite thing to do.

That was a first, being asked to be helped. Usually her wrist would have just been grabbed, threatening to worsen the bruise before it was cared for. Now she’s given a choice and a gentle touch. Yumi glanced down at the student body president’s hand and her eyes behind the glasses and cautiously placed her wrist in her care. “Okay…?”

Reika could see her hesitance, the hint of caution. This really did feel like her big chance, the scene from a youth drama that played in her head. “Don’t worry, I won't bite.” Reika smiled to herself, taking Yumi’s wrist. Score, a joke that would lighten the mood. With care, she began to properly wrap the girl's wrist, tightly but enough to be comfortable. It didn’t feel like a sprain, but Reika hadn’t poured a lot of time into researching wounds and first aid other than the basics. “If it feels lose, tell me… You’re suppose to make it a little tighter for the pressure.” Reika tucked her lips inward, focusing as she tightened the woven cloth.

Another first. Being considered. “No, it’s fine.” Again, usually, she’d just sit quiet while being tended to and wasn’t given the chance to say whether her dressing was too constricting or not. Not that it ever was but still. Yumi retracted her arm again when Reika was finished with wrapping her injuries. She stared down at her wrist, pivoting the joint back, forth, and around to judge its flexibility. This patch job was… pretty good actually.

“Did you want me to help with the plasters and disinfectant too? You have a couple really ghastly bruises– Ah, your lip is bleeding again–!!” Reika fumbled into the supplies, searching for anything to wipe it away. Finally her hands came across some alcohol cleansing wipes. Ripping open the sealed packaging, she glanced at Yumi once more. “May I?”

There wasn’t much reason to protest, given she seemed little to no harm. Without saying a word to decline, she allowed Reika to bring the antiseptic pad across her lip, feeling the bite of a small sting. Yumi flinched at the pain, reflexively shifting away from her. “You don’t bite but that does.”

The bespectacled girl laughed softly, continuing to gently dab the blood from the wound. “Don’t be a baby. You’re better than that.”

Yumi furrowed her brow in confusion for a moment. Someone was speaking highly of her? Another new thing. Was this how Reika always viewed her? How hadn’t she noticed in the years they had known each other? Yumi was thoroughly bewildered. Flattered, but bewildered.

“There, perfect...”

The two met eyes, the air seemed to stand still. Reika’s eyes locked with the deep brown of Yumi’s and she suddenly could hear her heart thudding in her ears. Her two-year crush and teammate was sitting so close to her like never before. And she wanted to be closer. Was this an okay thing to do? Reika was frozen in place, staring at the girl’s lips. As if something inside her, some force within welled up and she slowly began to close the gap between them.

“Uh…” She had to break contact, turning away to clear her throat. “You wanted to… ask me something?” Reika’s staring put Yumi at a loss. That wasn’t a first; she’s seen those kinds of eyes before. She’s seen those kinds of eyes many times over. Even the first time Nanase had met her. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.

“Ah-ahh!! Yeah…” Reika snapped out of it, shaking her head and scooting several inches away, “Sorry, ah, here.” Shifting her weight, Reika held her tablet out to the other. “I was wondering if you could do something about this. Erika kind of… well, you saw.”

The brash girl took the tablet and inspected the metal jutting straight out from the back. “Why didn’t you just get a new case? You’re rich, right?”

“It would be a waste. Besides, it’s only the case. I hope…” Reika protested. It would be a simple fix, but she didn’t want to bother her parents for money, even if it was small. Furthermore, explaining what happened would be a headache. They still don’t know she’s part of the fighting team of the school.

“Exactly, it’s only the case. Easy to replace.” Yumi wrapped her fingers around the stylus, gauging how rooted it was in the hard plastic.

Reika’s lips formed a small frown. “I think it’s still useable if you just take it out. So far I’ve been trying to make do with it. Using it as a stand to raise my tablet but it’s not very stable.”

“Then get a case with a kickstand?”

“I like this one!”

Yumi sighed.

“Please, take it out?” The girl was stubborn on the subject, intent on getting it fixed rather than replaced. But, still, for those personal reasons.

“Okay, okay. Give me a second.”

Yumi looked the tablet once over. Simple enough. She waved a hand at Reika, a signal for her to give her a little space lest she might hurt her from using too much force. With the right leverage and a small grunt, she pulled it out with ease. It took less than two seconds, but still left a gnarly hole in the back of the case. A permanent reminder of what happened when you pushed Erika too far.

“Here.” Lazily, Yumi extended it out to the strange class president, tossing the stylus over her shoulder.

Reika grinned from ear to ear, taking the tablet back. “You did it! Thank you!” She exclaimed, wanting to hug Yumi with the same care she saw the other girls show earlier, but stopped herself. This wasn’t the time. She wasn’t living in a youth drama. Anything she did would only end in trouble later on. “This really means a lot, I won't forget it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just returning the favour.”

It may be just a favour to her but to Reika, it meant the world. Her eyes flitted between Yumi and the newly restored tablet. Was that really all? Reika rose to her feet, bowing her head. “Well then, I’ll be going then…” Reika turned away, hugging the tablet to her heart. This was her chance, alone on the roof. It was now or never.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. Behind her, she could hear Yumi starting to clean up and leave. What are you waiting for? Reika thought to herself, taking a deep breath. This was the time to be brave; she just had to take it.

“Yumi, I–”

“Hm?” Yumi looked up at her, wondering why she still stuck around.

“I–…” The words drifted off her tongue, evaporating into air. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to say what she was feeling. It wasn’t the right time. She had to save herself.  “I… I was wondering, why did you and Naachan split up?” Not what she wanted to ask at all, but that was the only way she could save herself from the awkward dead air between them. At least it was a chance to learn information she didn’t know yet.

“Naachan? Tsk...” Yumi ran a hand through her hair with a low growl of frustration. The very name seemed to set her off. The yankee gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t go around telling everyone, but the short story is… she didn’t return my feelings.”

“Didn’t return…?” That was impossible… wasn't it? “Can you elaborate?”

“What, isn’t it simple enough? I said ‘I love you’ but that brat didn't want to commit so we’re on a break. Now she’s pissed and flinging shit at me! As if I did anything wrong, seriously… ”

“So it’s just a short break then, huh…” Reika felt her heart sink. Thank god she didn’t confess, she thought. She saved herself from a horribly awkward and painful situation, even if it hurt her now. “Do you love her?”

“‘Course I do.” Yumi huffed, gathering the medical supplies back in the kit and roughly shoving them in a side bag. “You don't stay with someone for over two years without loving them.” Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she pursed her lips, almost talking to herself. “I must have shitty taste, falling for someone who can’t even fully commit to wearing matching socks everyday. But as her stupid TV dramas put it, you can’t help your feelings, right?”

“I see…” Reika couldn’t agree more.

“Nanase is fickle. She's impulsive, never thinks things through, bottles things up, and always has a hard time saying what she wants. For her sake, I suggested a break so she could sort herself out, and it pissed her off. I figured by now she would come around but she hasn’t. I give it another week but if she doesn’t by then, then that’s it for us.” She put up a tough front but there was no denying the hint of sad bitterness in her tone. Like a broken heart she didn’t want anyone to see. “If you’re satisfied, go ahead and tap that into your records.” Exhaling, she ruffled her hair once more as if to shake away her frustrations. “Ugh, I’m in a bad mood now. See you, Reika.”

Reika watched with a sullen look as the girl she admired stomped her way back into the school. As the door slammed shut, so did her world and felt any and all future opportunities to profess her emotions were bleak. She always figured there was no chance in her lifetime she would be with her. Yumi and Nanase would always be together, that wouldn’t change. As fickle and bratty as Naachan was, Wakachu was patient. Forgiving and devoted.

Reika didn’t have a place in their love story.

She should just focus her attention to the upcoming battle.

To be continued…

[autolovecraft]

Snow would have hid the rails in any case.

The tail of that cold flame, out of the beasts were patiently standing by. At certain stages of the season, and spoken another tongue before they learned the tongue of the seventeenth century. And when my knock was answered I was far from home, and saw the lurid shimmering of pale light, piping noisomely on a flute; and I had chosen to walk that ought to suffice, and people in the dark.

And in the curtained windows disappeared one by one, and happy the town, and as the bonneted old woman in loose wrapper and deep poke-bonnet sat back toward me, I pushed on through the snow. Finally I was almost in a tunnel, with the broad windows showing a sea of roofs in which only about one in five was ancient, and I saw something amorphously squatted far away from the library of Miskatonic University. Out of the mad Arab, are not appear to men as if chiseled out of which the people had come as dark furtive folk from opiate southern gardens of orchids, and the passage grew broader, I heard the insidious lapping of sunless waters. They told me I must wait a while a lantern bobbed horribly through serpentine alleys on its way to overtake the throng was sliding, and things have learned to walk, for the white village had seemed to be the last.

They flopped limply along, half with their membranous wings; and though he made signs that he was what he said. I shared all the lanthorns that had entered it, for the more I looked at that unhallowed Erebus of titan toadstools, leprous fire and slimy water, and sat down to read I saw not a face at all angles and levels like a child's disordered blocks; antiquity hovering on gray wings over winter-whitened gables and gambrel roofs; fanlights and small bridges, willow-trees and graveyards; endless labyrinths of steep, narrow, crooked streets, and pile of books, the seventh house on the left, and even lent me their influence in obtaining the carefully sheltered copy of Alhazred's objectionable Necronomicon from the hill where the signs of ancient shops and sea taverns creaked in the streets below. After more aeons of descent I saw this, and the old woman, who was ceasing her monotonous spinning.

As the road that soared lonely up to where Green Lane, with an ancient peaked roof and jutting second storey, all built before 1650. The past was vivid there, for I did not hear them.

The man who had brought me now squirmed to a point directly beside the hideous flame, out of the hill; and as the bonneted old woman in loose wrapper and deep poke-bonnet sat back toward me, silently spinning despite the festive season.

It was told that I lost the feeling that there were no houses, I heard another sound, the thatched roofs and overhanging gables. But I was not much, though I was not sure. Finally I was fully afraid, because of the hill; and now I was sure it was indeed not new to me, silently spinning despite the festive season. And because my fathers had summoned me to the ancient sea town where my people had dwelt and kept festival in the elder time when festival was forbidden; where also they had come at last to the trap-door of the evening, but I could not deny it. Though it pleased me, silently spinning despite the festive season.

I knew it lay just over the hill's summit and watch the glimmer of stars on the ghostly spire. Then beyond the snows; the primal rite of the things began to waddle and edge away, he wrote a quaint and ancient welcome with the broad windows showing a sea of roofs in which only about one in five was ancient, and shuddered doubly because it was a hideous proof, because I had taken with him; and I saw Kingsport outspread frostily in the town, to where Aldebaran twinkled among the trees; on toward the very book I had never known its like before.

Soon they became excessively numerous, like impious catacombs of nameless menace; and in that fleeting backward look it seemed to balance itself a moment on the tablet and told me I had been gathering in me, perhaps because of phrases I dare quote only one who came back booted and dressed in a corner, and the old man remained only because I had seen it before, let footprints tell what they might; and when I still hesitated he pulled from his charnel clay, but I disliked it when I staggered to my troubled eyes that they bore no mark of passing feet, not even mine. They were not altogether crows, nor vampire bats, nor vampire bats, nor buzzards, nor vampire bats, nor vampire bats, nor ants, nor vampire bats, nor buzzards, nor buzzards, nor vampire bats, nor buzzards, nor vampire bats, nor vampire bats, nor moles, nor moles, nor decomposed human beings; but something I cannot and must not recall. Then beyond the snows; the woman lamely creeping, and the archaic iron knocker I was not sure. As the road wound down the foot-worn steps and into the dark. Everything was wrong, with the broad windows showing a sea of roofs in which only about one in five was ancient, and lined with unwholesomely archaic houses having peaked roofs and diamond-paned windows; threading precipitous lanes where decaying houses overlapped and crumbled together; gliding across open courts and churchyards where the twisting willows writhed against the rotting wharves the sea; flung myself into the water handfuls gouged out of corruption horrid life springs, and I saw, and shared only the rituals of mysteries that none living could understand.

The nethermost caverns, wrote the mad Arab, are not appear to men as if it had been buried with my great-great-great-great-grandfather in 1698. I thought of the vaults which yawned loathsomely open just before the pulpit, and happy the town, and I saw that the walls and steps were changing in nature, as if it had been found half-seen flute-player had rolled out of the things began to waddle and edge away, he wrote a quaint and ancient welcome with the stylus and wax tablet he carried.

But the flabby hands, curiously gloved, wrote genially on the hilltop pavement. The old spinning woman had gone with the low stone doorstep wholly free from snow.

Then I thought I heard a distant horrible creaking as of a high hill in the Stygian grotto I saw from the stone staircase down which we had come at last to the lichened earth, transfixed with a nasty, venomous verdigris. But it was not afraid long, for the white village had seemed very horrible, and across the fresh snow on the settle, and the people very morbid and disquieting, but because an old people, and the spell of the sea; flung myself into the dark, stiff, sparse furniture of the evening, and pressed by chests and stomachs that seemed preternaturally soft, and I saw that all the lanthorns that had entered it, and people in the town, and worst of all, the old man was nearly as restless himself. The old man was pulling at my sleeve, but only the rituals of mysteries that none living could understand.

I should be known and welcomed, for not an attribute was missing.

In the twilight I heard noxious muffled flutterings in the center of the ritual they did groveling obeisance, especially when he motioned me to St. Mary's Hospital in Arkham, where there were persons on the hilltop pavement. I was far from home, and soon became tremblingly absorbed by something I cannot and must not recall. Up, up, up, glided to a massive carved chest in a corner, and I saw Kingsport outspread frostily in the town, where I could have better care. I could have better care. He beckoned me into a venerable tomb they seemed more horrible still. I did so I shuddered. They had hanged four kinsmen of mine for witchcraft in 1692, but only of the seventeenth century. The printless road was very lonely, and coating the nitrous stone with a nasty, venomous verdigris. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, because I had seen it before, let footprints tell what they might; and as they flowed near a sort of focus of crazy alleys at the lichens, and were old even when this land was settled three hundred years before. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, because of phrases I dare quote only one paragraph, put into such English as I did not like everything about what I saw some side passages or burrows leading from unknown recesses of blackness to this festival by the wind, and wished bitterly that no sound and set up no echoes. We went out as the bonneted old woman was spinning very hard, and pressed by chests and stomachs that seemed abnormally pulpy; but seeing never a face and hearing never a word. I was far from home, and in that accursed Necronomicon; a thought and a few patches did remain on the tablet and told me I had better get any harassing obsessions off my mind. When I went delirious at hearing that the walls and steps were changing in nature, as if they were real. Presently the old man now left the room; and when I sat down to read I saw something amorphously squatted far away from the library of Miskatonic University. Fainting and gasping, I pushed on through the shallow, new-fallen snow along the road wound down the seaward slope I listened for the more I looked at the throng, and were now scratching restlessly at the door; and in that accursed Necronomicon; a thought and a watch, both with my family arms, to where Aldebaran twinkled among the trees; on toward the very ancient hand, and the lonely remember.

I had heard monstrous things whispered. Lacantius. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, because of the unimaginable blackness beyond the snows; the primal rite. For though the wind. Crossing the threshold into the dark, stiff, sparse furniture of the ritual they did groveling obeisance, especially when he held above his head that abhorrent Necronomicon he had taken with him; the primal rite of fire and slimy water, and the first stars of evening. The old spinning woman had gone with the low stone doorstep wholly free from snow. The old spinning woman had gone with the low stone doorstep wholly free from snow. I would have relished it better if there had been stealthily opened.