#Nasty mechanic bastard

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I know you probably JUST posted the FNAF Movie request where the reader possesses Sparky, but after reading it this idea popped into my head and I need to get it out there.

Could we have a sort of continuation of the 'Sparky reader' fic that takes place towards the finale of the movie? The idea I had is that after Abby helps the animatronics remember that it was William Afton who killed them, the reader actually joins up with the others in confronting him. Additionally, William is shocked because he wasn't expecting the reader to have also possessed an animatronic, let alone that they would have command over the others (he probably thought he was the only one with that kind of power).

👀

The first Sparky!Reader part

........

"Look at you...look at the nasty things that you have become! Look at how small you are! How worthless you are!! You are wretched, rotten little beasts! I MADE YOU!!!"

Even as William shouted angrily at the animatronics, pounding a gloved fist against his chest, he realized how quickly he was losing his ability to keep them in line.

Thanks to that brat showing them the truth in a stupid drawing--which proved that he, the yellow bunny they once trusted, was the cause of all their pain--they didn't obey him anymore.

Now he couldn't control them like he used to.

No longer were they blindly singing and dancing to his tune.

Because they finally remembered what really happened that day.

He then heard another pair of heavy footsteps, and from the darkness emerged a character he had almost entirely forgotten about:

Sparky.

But how was he moving? And why?

William swore that mutt was sitting in the backstage area, deactivated and unable to walk freely.

It was impossible.

Unless....

"Of course..I figured you would have woken up eventually, too." He chuckled weakly, taunting you all. "So what's your plan now? To kill me? Shove me into a suit like you did to those poor people?! Well you can't...because I know how you all think!! I'm smarter than you!!"

"No. You are a fool, Afton. It isn't us who will kill you."

His laughter ceased upon hearing your disembodied voice speaking to him, and he froze for a moment, bewildered by what you had said.

It was extremely unnerving to learn that your ghost could even talk to him at all, considering the other children have been silent.

What made you so special?

Unfortunately for him, he realized far too late what you meant by those words...as he noticed you gesturing to Chica, who sent her Cupcake after him.

It lunged with a growl, biting into the torso of his suit and not letting go.

He grabbed onto it, struggling to tear the feral little bastard off of him, not knowing that would be the last mistake he ever made.

When he finally managed to toss the Cupcake away from him, it took a chunk of the suit's fabric with it, exposing part of the springlock endoskeleton underneath.

And without any material for the mechanisms to stay compressed against...

They snapped, one bar stabbing into his side and sinking deep into his flesh, blood leaking through his shirt almost immediately.

With a gasp of pain, William collapsed to his knees as the springlocks continued to puncture him one by one--with you and the other animatronics simply staring him down, watching him endure the same torment he brought upon each of you.

None of your suits were made from springlocks, of course...but now he, too, will know what it's like to be encased inside a tomb of fabric and metal forever.

He scrambled for the Springbonnie head that laid beside him, only to see your brown paws snatch it off the ground.

You kept his above his head, just barely within his reach.

All he did was stare into your glowing red eyes, shocked at the commanding presence you held over his creations. He had no idea how you got them to follow your lead so easily.

Yet despite knowing that he lost, he refused to lie down and show any sort of fear.

Instead a grin appeared on his sweaty face, each exhaled breath growing more strained than the last.

And before you shoved the Springbonnie head onto him, forever sealing him inside his tomb, he made one final haunting declaration:

"I always come back."

[fuckmyskywalker]

🕯️🧺 w anakin? plz? 🥺❤️

Prompt: 🕯️ "You weren’t supposed to hear that.” | 🧺 Stepcest. — Anakin Skywalker.

CW: 18+, smut!. stepcest, dub-con/non-con (reader is drunk and under other substances, they don't explicitly say yes but they don't say no either so). Anakin is quite violent in here, and mean, and a bitch. Dirty talk, Oral sex (m), struggling with feelings, Anakin is an idiot tbh but he is my filthy, pervert idiot. | Word count: 2.9k (...somebody kill me.)

a/n: This is so disgustingly delicious I couldn't help myself, sorry. It was supposed to be a short drabble but ended up being almost 3k of pure filth.

His feet tap the rug of the living room anxiously; Anakin knows he should stay away from all this, lock himself in his bedroom, and jack off before bed. 

But as usual, his thoughts are even more complicated than that, he is caught between a situation that he isn’t sure has a positive outcome or even one for that matter. It’s the same conflict he has been going through ever since his wonderful mother had the great idea to marry your awesome dad who treated her as she deserved and welcomed Anakin as his son. But that wasn’t the problem.

It was you.

Anakin wanted you, so bad it burned his skin and chained his heart to a cold wall of self-restraint. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself every night he heard you in the adjacent room, moaning softly under your own caresses and all he could do was rub his uncomfortable erection to at least ease some of the yearning. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept whispering in the shower, closing his eyes to not see his hands squeezing your bottle of shampoo and consuming his sanity in the sweet scent of strawberry shortcake, relishing in the calmness your characteristic smell brings him. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept saying in the solitude of the obscure living room, waiting for you to come back from whatever fucking party you decided to sneak out that night.

It was easier to mask his desires and sinful lusts for you under a coat of anger. Always snapping at you, yelling, pushing you away. Anakin found that nasty attitude as an effective coping mechanism. For a while. You suddenly stopped talking to him, searching for his friendship or a simple common ground so you two could be in the same room without screaming and throwing insults at each other until either his mother or your father had to step in.

Neither of them tried to interfere unless things got heavily verbal and one time, physical. They both concluded it was only the edge of getting used to this new dynamic. You and Anakin just need more time to grow accustomed to each other’s presence, that’s it. Plus, Shmi didn’t feel entitled to scold you, and your father was never good at dealing with “women’s emotions”.

Deep down, Anakin was feeling guilty, and he, much like your father, wasn't good at dealing with others’ emotions, less alone his. He never tried to apologize either, which perhaps was why he was doing this. Aside from that repetitive statement of “this is wrong”, he tries to swallow his guilt and add to the mix a hint of “this is how I show my worry for her”. Which, if being brutally honest, was a pretty shitty way of doing so. Glancing at the digital clock on the fireplace, his anxious tapping gets stronger, it is almost 3:30 am. He hesitates, should he call you? Would you even pick up the phone? Should he just drop this whole act off and go to bed? Anakin feels too tired to even masturbate, or too angry, it doesn’t matter. The thoughts and “what ifs” begin to drown him, and if there is something that the unstable bastard is, is an overthinker. 

As luck would have it, his head snaps up when he hears the front door click open softly, followed by a muffled giggle. He stands up slowly, careful not to make a single noise. Are you alone? He hopes you are. The idea of seeing you with someone else twists his stomach with jealousy, quickly followed by that familiar wave of guilt. He has no right over you, that is a fact, and yet he forces himself to look over it, using the poor, sick excuse of being your stepbrother to worry about you; Even if his worry is translated into being a bitch, spying your every movement, and fucking his fist to the thought of you. 

He sees you stumbling through the front door, clicking the latch with what appears to be shaky fingers. Anakin remains silent as he scoots closer to you, resting on the frame of the arch that leads from the living room to the hallway that connects with the front door and the kitchen. You fail to notice his presence, too busy struggling to keep both feet on the floor as your heels hang from your right hand and your purse on your left. The tiniest bit of relief travels through his veins, at least you are alone. You walk past Anakin, but he doesn’t let you wander more than three steps. 

“Had a fun time? He asks in a sarcastic, dry tone. Cold blue eyes scan you up and down unashamedly, taking notice of how revealing and tight your outfit looks. 

With a loud gasp you turn around in a split second, your eyes widen and your mouth contorts into an expression of shock and drunken panic, Anakin predicts your scream and sprints towards you clasping a hand over your mouth and pushing you against the nearest wall. If he was upset before now he is fuming. “Shut the fuck up” He whispers against your face, his hot breath fanning over your nose. Up close Anakin notices how your eyes are droopy, puffy, and red. “If you wake them up I won’t save your ass”

You try to push him away but to no avail, Anakin is stronger than you, and your drunken state completely eats up your stability. Your head shakes side to side trying to remove his hand from your mouth but it only makes him push it harder until your lips begin to feel numb. “Where were you?” He asks, towering right in front of you in a frightening yet… arousing way. “And what the fuck is that outfit?” 

It’s rather ironic how your stepbrother keeps interrogating you but also takes away your ability to talk— You let go of your heels that fall to the wood floor with a muted sound, trying to push him away with your palm against his chest. 

Which apparently infuriates Anakin further. “Keep your hands off me, who knows where they’ve been” He hisses and slaps your hand away and pins it to your side with frustrated force.  “Were you with someone?” Anakin hisses, so close to your face you can see how deep his eyes are. You never recall they were such a pretty shade of blue. 

You shake your head at his last question, the only verbal indication you can give. His shoulders seem to relax the tiniest bit just to return to his usual tense shape. “Don’t fucking lie to me” He warns you and spits your name in a venomous way that should hurt your feelings and bring tears to your eyes. You shake your head again this time more desperately, this is the closest he had ever been to you ever since your father married his mother and it’s borderline scary. “You smell like a damn distillery, fucking disgusting” 

Instead of pushing him again, you raise your knee to hit his hip, your goal was his crotch but you missed by a lot. Anakin grunts in pain and lets go of your mouth for a second letting you take a heavy, desperate breath. Your body feels dizzy and sweaty and it’s all because of him. The altercation only lasts a few seconds and you don’t even reach the first stair before Anakin yanks your hair and slams your body back to a wall.

“Let go of me—” You whine with little conviction. “Get the fuck off Anakin I—” Your voice isn’t a plea, it’s an irritated complaint that makes you focus on everything else besides the burning ache that is beginning to form in between your legs at the tussle between your stepsibling. You expect his hand to clasp over your mouth again and the little self-consciousness left in your mind decides to bite his palm if he does so—

But instead, his lips crash over yours messily, punching all the air from your lungs. Your body reacts faster than your mind and the first thought that swirls in your hazed head is: His tongue tastes like heaven. Anakin quietly grunts at the strong flavor of liqueur and cheap cigarettes that fills his senses, pushing his hips forward basically rubbing his half-hard cock against your hip. Using his grip on your hair he yanks your head upwards so his lips can attack your jaw and neck, rapt in your heavy panting. Anakin’s knee finds a comfortable spot between your thighs, rubbing the sharp bone over against your needy core. Your body jolts slightly and you mewl into the cold air of the staircase hallway. You want to touch him, run your hands through his hair, cup his beautiful face, embrace this sick, prohibited feeling— but the emotional grip he was on you is doing its job. You can’t seem to find the strength to move a single muscle, melting into a wordless puddle for the person who you were supposed to hate.

Anakin’s knee picks up an acceptable pace forcing you to move your hips involuntarily to relieve some of the ache. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you were this wet, and even if you wanted to— it would’ve been impossible. He leaves wet, lewd kisses over your neck before sucking and biting your skin, ravishing you as if you were his prey, and perhaps you were. Anakin’s hand which isn’t gripping at your hair so hard your scalp is burning, squeezes your hip with the same brutal, appealing force. 

“You don’t have any idea how bad I want you” Anakin breathes against your neck, his voice lingering with that dangerous edge, mixed with what appears to be compassion, but not for you, for himself.— or even emotion. “You get under my damn skin, you make me lose my damn mind” His white teeth are like a threat, sinking into every inch of skin available, marking you. 

To care? You don’t have it in you. Probably not even if you were sober. Your mind struggles to come up with a reply, the ocean you are swimming in has everything except guilt, which was burning Anakin’s soul. “I know…” You whispered weakly, pushing your hips forwards and biting your lip to choke a moan at how good it felt to be humping your stepbrother’s knee. “I heard you jacking last month— you moaned my name” It was a miracle you could even build the sentence together, your voice was slurred and broken, but Anakin understood every word.

He curses under his breath, and the surprising sight of his flushed, red cheeks seems to break your drunk trance for a moment. Anakin hides his face in your shoulder, resting his forehead on the muscle. “You weren’t supposed to hear that” He mutters, it feels humiliating, but the simple act of unintentional humiliation makes his cock twitch inside his grey sweats. 

“I did”

“Shut up”

“I liked it”

Anakin’s head snaps upwards, meeting your half-lidded eyes. He wants to believe you. The doubt flies around his head: He is not used to having what he wants— Why would you be the exception? Is this his chance to be greedy and take the only thing he has been craving for months now? Is this how Eve felt when the Devil offered her the forbidden fruit? 

Are you his forbidden fruit?

Is this the way out from Eden?

It was too much. 

Lowering his knee he glares at your discontented groan, placing both hands on your shoulders and forcing you to kneel. The intention is clear, and it doesn’t take you long to pick it up. Your shaky hands fumble with the little bow on his swears but Anakin just pushes them away, muttering something about ‘how stupidly drunk you are you can’t even do something for yourself’. What is also not a surprise, is the lack of underwear— but what it is— is his cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it, completely hard right in front of your face. Swallowing, you allow him to guide the tip to your open, awaiting mouth. The first touch is like touching heaven, or hell— Your warm tongue swirls over the sensitive head tasting the salty precum, wondering what could you do to be able to savor him again. Anakin places his large hand on the back of your head fighting the urge to push you all the way in. He is trying to be nice, at least a little. Although, it seems like you have other plans; He is bigger than other guys you’ve seen, not massive but certainly above average. Perhaps big enough that you can see the outline on your lower stomach if he fucks you. Sliding a couple more inches inside your wet mouth you roll your eyes at the way Anakin’s breath hitches and how his hips push forwards the slightest bit.

The wonderful weight of his cock on your tongue is hypnotizing, and you waste no time bobbing your head back and forth, sliding a bit more of his cock after a couple of minutes. Raising your eyes, you find Anakin staring directly at you, his blue irises dilated and almost glowing in a predatory manner. 

His breathless chuckle catches you off guard. “You must be a slut if you suck cock this good.” It’s a double-edged compliment, either way, it feels good. You whine around his dick making him hiss in pleasure, biting his lower lip to keep the noises down. He can only imagine the catastrophic consequences if his mother (or your father) wakes up and finds his son’s cock buried in his stepsibling’s throat. “Fuck— I wish I could have you on your knees all day…” 

You try to nod at the idea, it sounds great— it fucking does. The struggle for air starts to hit you, and the lustful haze replaces the alcohol haze in your head and bloodstream— You are no longer drunk in cheap tequila, vodka, and whatever the fuck was in that igloo; no, you are drunk in his cock, his scent, his voice, in him. 

You decide to go big, because well, you already are home. Deepthroating him rewards you with a delightful moan, not loud enough to bounce over the walls of the first floor but enough for you to pick it up and moan as an aftereffect. Your throat contracts around his hard cock and Anakin is a dead man. The little restraint he had left breaks and the next thing you feel is your head banging against the wall to keep you in place as he fucks your face. His hips thrust on and on, your gags and chokes sobs only spurring him further. Your nails dig into his thighs and his balls graze against your chin with every frantic snap. Anakin is painting, sweating, sinning. 

If this was the forbidden fruit, could he blame Eve at all? 

Your tears, your smeared makeup, the drool that trickles down your chin is like a work of art. Anakin thinks you look beautiful, but it isn’t enough. The muted pounding of the back of your skull against the wall shouldn’t be as erotic as you register it, forcing your mouth open, letting him use you, ruin you, own you in the nastiest way possible. 

Anakin’s release comes without warning. His cock twitches inside your mouth and some thick, hot ropes of cum slide down your throat before he moved out of the warm paradise that your mouth was to paint your face with his cum. He exhales shakily, stroking the base to make sure everything is out and on you. The thick globe of cum that slides down your cheek reaches the corner of your lips and you stick your tongue to catch it, making Anakin squeeze his eyes close and wipe the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The silence is everything but tense, it even feels comforting; as if all the words that you two wanted to scream were now said— in such a carnal, animalistic way. Anakin’s hands are gentle as he helps you get up, giving you the time you need to calm yourself and settle the unsteadiness of your legs. His arm wraps itself around your waist, trying so badly not to look at your cum-stained face in order to not get hard again. 

“Sorry,” He whispers as the familiar sensation of guilt makes itself present and commences to weigh his shoulders down. His nose scratches your shoulder, and every negative thought begins to swirl inside his mind. 

“Don’t be” You reply, trying to smile but you are too tired to even do it.

The clock ticks 4:12 am.

“Is it wrong if I say I love you?” Anakin’s voice is searing with regret, what has he done? The martyrdom rings inside his chest, constricting it and echoing like big, golden bells. 

“I don’t know” Your answer is sincere. You blink some tears away, wiping some of his lukewarm cum away from your face, it’s beginning to dry up. “But I love you too, so, if it’s wrong…”

He knows what you are implying. 

The clock ticks 4:16 am when he helps you undress and wipes your face with a makeup remover wipe. Anakin helps you get dressed, noticing your pajama top was an old t-shirt that belongs to him, a piece of clothing he simply imagined he lost in the washer machine. His lips are soft when he tucks you in bed. You smile at him tiredly, kissing him back.

No more words were needed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

[pb-dot]

This latest Adventuring Party really drove home my favorite aspect of Brennan's DMing style. He genuinely loves seeing his players succeed, even against odds he considered to be nigh insurmountable.

Let's take the Last Stand as an example. Now, Brennan made no secret out of the Last Stand encounter being very hard, and for people who do not play D&D it may even seem like he overhyped it, but from a mechanics standpoint, the CR, functionally the difficulty rating of this battle royale was sky-high. Yeah, none of the Bad Kids went down, but that is entirely thanks to a combination of excellent strategic play from the Intrepid Heroes and some choice luck.

To mention some of the game changer moves, the Scatter spell really re-defined the battlefield more favorably for the Bad Kids, the disguise self was a value proposition because it split the flying monsters, which was the greatest threat to the proctor by far, in two, functionally halving the threat to the squishy normie, not to mention dealing with the mega-mosquitos in combo with Spirit Guardians. Those little flying bastards would have been such a pain in the ass if Fig didn't bug zapper them to kingdom come. And the bless. Dear god, the Bless saved so many asses in this encounter.

This isn't to say magic was the only thing that defined the battlefield. The single-target damage dealers did some truly astounding numbers and managed their attention and abilities shockingly well. Yeah, Gorgug crit like a madman, but he also tanked like three or four non-barb PCs worth of effective HP damage without going down even once. If he had failed his saves and gotten eaten by the Purple Worm things would have gotten nasty for him, but again, the touch of luck (and bless) saw him through.

So, this is all to say that this was an encounter meant to kick the players' ass. Not an unwinnable one, evidently, but this was supposed to be a considerably worse experience even without getting into the non dice-roll exam questions. And how does Brennan react when the Intrepid Heroes put their game face all the way on, get really smart with their level 1 spell slots, and dismantle the whole thing? He's overjoyed, he's cheering for his strange adventure children, and we're cheering with him because frankly it's rad as hell.

This illustrates one nuance I feel sometimes gets glossed over about the DM-player relationship. A lot of people have talked about how Junior Year is the "Revenge of Brennan" or what have you, and I feel that kind of misses the central appeal of DMing and Brennan's style in D20 in particular. Yes, Mr Mulligan enjoys playing the heel on occasion. It's good fun to play the personification of everything going wrong and the inherent shittiness of the world, but like the wrestler heels, all that wicked charisma is meant to do one thing, and that is build up the faces, or the players in this case.

Now, the ghost of Gary Gygax may come after me for this, but I firmly believe it's not the DMs job to kill the player characters, or even to inconvenience or torment them. A good DM's job is to make it seem like they're going to kill the player characters, as to provide an environment for the players to succeed, a challenge for them to overcome. It's all one big improv exercise (or kink scene if you prefer to view it that way), where the DM derives their (near)absolute authority over the world the PCs inhabit from the shared understanding that they're going to show the players a spectacular, if not on occasion harrowing, time.

This is Brennan's biggest strength as a DM I think. He genuinely wants to make a spectacular time for his friends, and he understands that to do that he must on occasion be the monster they oppose, and on occasion he must be their breathless cheerleader. On occasion, one imagines, he must also be both.

[mjrtaurus]

My idea for some Crocodile's backstory until Oda spills the tea

A bastard child of Rocks D. Xebec, one of many, but the only to survive.

Afab, but knew he was a boy since he was in his single digits. His father was indifferent to this and everything else about him.

"Discovered" his name when he bit the ever-loving shit out of somebody who was fucking around and found out.

Inherited Xebec's horror of a temper and weaponized it as a self-defense mechanism. This got him into a lot of trouble later in life.

Was adopted by Whitebeard when Xebec was executed. He later took the mark on the back of his left hand, once the "family" was more well established.

Immediately had beef with Marco due to being under the assumption that the Phoenix was dad's new favorite.

Teach egged this rivalry on from the shadows, knowing damn well that if the two worked together, they would sniff his treacherous ass out in record time.

When their devil fruits were found and eaten, Crocodile was deeply jealous of Marco's newfound power.

What began as a brotherly quarrel spilled over into an actual, serious, life or death fight that Whitebeard had to intervene in.

This intervention ended with a nasty cut across Crocodile's face, and Marco dumbfounded by the attempt on his life.

Crocodile was marooned at the next port, his destructive temper deemed a danger to his brothers and sisters.

The whitebeard pirates mourned the loss, hitting Marco and Whitebeard the deepest.

Crocodile- betrayed and alone for the first time in his life- renounced his family by getting good and drunk, cutting of his marked left hand, and vowing to kill Whitebeard.

Set about learning to master his abilities, and- bitterly- how to keep a tighter grip on his anger.

By his late teens, he was leading a small but deadly efficient crew that only grew and grew with time until he gained the title of Warlord.

With this ego boost, he took his flagship- the Sobekneferu- to launch a swift and silent surprise attack on the Moby Dick under a dense fog, intent on catching Whitebeard unawares.

This attack went about as well as one could imagine. The fog covered them well, but not well enough to evade the eyes of one particular phoenix..

What the fog did do was delay Whitebeard's realization of who was attacking him until the Sobekneferu and the crew that manned her were all but destroyed.

Crocodile was the only survivor, presumed dead and adrift at sea, watching the gulls and the sea kings pick at the corpses of his found family, new and old.

He was saved days later by a passing Revolutionary ship that was scouring the wreck for anything that could be used or repurposed.

He was thought dead at first, until he lashed out at the Revolutionary who attempted to move his body.

They took him in, sick and starving and with his spirit all but broken, and he ran with them for about a year before he was ready to move on.

In that span of time, he met a man named Dragon, and bullied him ruthlessly for his impossible goals. Unfortunately for Crocodile, Dragon found this sour attitude to be quite charming.

It wasn't quite a relationship, though not for lack of wanting it to be. Times were too dangerous. The two couldn't even give each other their full names out of the need for caution, let alone be seen together outside of work related things...

It was Dragon who eventually introduced Crocodile to Ivankov, and the two were soon discussing the ins and outs of a full transition. This was put on hold when, one evening, it was discovered that a particularly nasty bout of cramps were actually the beginnings of labor pains.

No one knew who the father of this unexpected child was, save for him and Dragon, and that was for the best. If anyone asked, it had been a nameless bedfellow when they had been spending time ashore.

Neither named the child, knowing that giving the baby up would be the safest route to go for all of them. Crocodile didn't even want to know if he had a son or a daughter. He didn't want that pain.

He only spent long enough with the revolutionaries to recover from the birth and then from the transition. After that, he was off to reclaim his title of Warlord, to find new leads and new purposes, and maybe send some funds and information Dragon's way. Just to make sure he and his little outfit was still kicking.

[aishnico]

warnings: cheating, oral sex (fem! receiving), grammar issues

word count: 1.6k

it was one of the nights when you, your boyfriend, takashi, and your mutual friends would go to his (uncle’s) night club, to celebrate your usual victory.

everybody is having fun there. your boyfriend’s friend, morimoto, was trying to hit on your mechanic friend, reiko. and her turning him down for the nth time will never not stop being amusing.

somehow sean and twinkie managed to get there. twinkie was introducing his new solid goods and trying to sell to some girls and boys.

meanwhile, sean was dancing and flirting with neela. you hoped takashi wasn’t looking at them. or else, he would throw hands on him. she’s like his sister to him.

but then you realized there was no reason to get worried. takashi was wasted by alcohol enough to doze off on some leather couch.

once again, everybody was having fun. but where were you?

in your boyfriend’s business partner’s tight grip.

sometimes you think that you’re a terrible person for cheating. but honestly, he deserves every bad thing happening to him.

you had no idea that you would start dating him just because you beat him in a race. only you managed to beat the infamous drift king by so far (spoiler: some country boy was going to beat him too)…

to your luck, that day he was kind enough to ask you what you wanted from him. his car, money, place…

you should have said his place. you could rule this place all alone. but instead, you said you two could rule here together. what were you thinking?

from that day, you slowly started to lose amusement in things that were making you happy. partying, racing, hanging out with your friends… made you feel dull that time.

and only god knows what he would do if you told him that you wanted to break up with him. burning the whole shibuya down is probably the slightest thing he would do.

it was until a tall, mysterious, long dark-haired korean man named han came into your lives. he races once in a blue moon. but he is as good as you and takashi. he managed to win his heart with his skills and personality. soon, he became one of his close friends.

you observed him for a while. he wasn’t a very talkative guy. he preferred to listen and observe. that was what he did between you and takashi.

he knew you had no feelings for him and that almost nothing amuses you anymore. so he tried to get some adrenaline into your life by starting to secretly flirting with you.

you would laugh at his attempts but also would turn him down nonchalantly. you would think that he’s a nasty bastard who thought he could get everything he ever wanted.

but he had no desire to stop until he made your whole face red and your heart beat faster than ever. him not giving up on you even after months made you fall for his charm eventually.

also, getting in between your legs wasn’t in his plans but he’s not complaining. you’re his best fuck, after all, and he’s yours.

he really did bring some adrenaline into your life.

today, once again, you were in his tight grip secretly.

he pushed you further to the wall as he smashed his lips on yours. you closed your eyes and immediately started to kiss him with full of lust. he took your lower lip between his teeth and bit it.

you moaned into his mouth as you stopped sucking on his upper lip and opened your mouth. he pushed his tongue inside and your tongues started to twirl in perfect sync.

his hands moved to your back from your waist. caressing with his calloused hands as you wrapped your arms around his neck. trying to get him closer and closer.

when you started to feel breathless you pulled away. panting while looking at him with full of lust.

dk keeping you as close as possible made things difficult for both of you. so you both felt like you hadn’t seen each other since forever.

once again, he smashed his lips against yours, making you lose your senses again. but you weren’t gonna lie, you loved the sensation that only he could give you.

your hands went to the bottom of his shirt as you tried to take it off of him but he put his hands on top of yours and stopped you.

“i want you to come on my whole face and your juices drip down on my shirt.”

you sighed and slithered your black, lace panties aside. he kneeled and grinned. you were already dripping.

“what a pretty sigh, is this all for me?” he looked up at you with a sly smile. you blushed and turned your face away from him.

“such a needy girl. but i appreciate it so much.” his face was now close to your clit.

you leaned back and pushed your legs aside and wide for a better sigh for him.

“so beautiful…” he whispered before his hot mouth kissed your clit. after giving some light kisses, he started to suck on it slowly. taking his time with you. you whimpered and threw your head backward. your reaction made him grin as he shoved his face further.

you moaned erotically and ached your back as he moved out and shoved his tongue inside your needy, dripping hole. your velvety walls clenching around his skillful tongue as he tastes your sweet juices. his nose is already covered in your wetness.

he groaned at the taste. vibrations he just caused sent more pleasure inside you.

you wrapped your thighs around his head and pushed him closer. basically smothering him with your slit.

he doesn’t complain, though. in fact, he loves this more than everything. the first time he had eaten you out and you trapped him there, he said that he could happily die like this, he’s in the highest step of heaven. and just like that, he made you come for the first time.

as he pushed his tongue deeper and deeper, you held on to his hair and pulled it. he groaned again, his hands caressing your plush thighs.

his tongue continued to hit spots inside your walls. eventually, he found your sweet spot and started to hit there over and over.

you let out a cry as you began to ride his face basically. you both knew you were getting close. his movements got faster and faster. his tongue hitting that spot over and over and circumlating inside your walls. your slit covering his nose and chin area.

“seoul-oh, gonna cum, gonna cum~!” you warned him. you looked down on him with fucked-up expression.

“go on,” he mumbled and made eye contact with you. “let out all for me, sweet girl.” he held your hands which were gripping his hair, and placed them lower, still holding them.

you noticed the tightened wet spot inside his jeans. precum already leaked out of him. god, he was so big and hard… you wished to go down on him or get fucked by him but he chose to pleasure you. your pleasure always came first to him.

eventually, you felt your core tighten, your bundle of nerves building up as your jaw hung open, panting heavily. tears rolling down your flushed cheeks as you clenched around his tongue for the last time. then came undone all over his face.

your fluids were dripping down on his chin and shirt as he wanted. he was smiling like an idiot now.

he pushed his head backward and gasped. you both breathed in and out heavily, trying to calm down yourselves.

“that, was, amazing.” he emphasized every word while standing up. he kissed you once again. you could taste yourself on his lips and feel his bulge pressing against your stomach. you looked down.

“don’t mind me, i can handle myself. leave the room first, i’m gonna join you a few minutes later.”

you went to the door hurriedly. but stopped to look at him. then walked to him again and kissed him hard for the last time for the day.

before leaving the room he called you by your name. you turned your head to look at him.

“can i um…” he threw his hand to the back of his neck. “ask you out on a real date after sean beats dk’s ass and he gets the fuck out of city?”

you giggled. “i’d love to.”

you were glad that takashi was still sleeping, but you wished you had known this couple of minutes ago so you could help han out there.

as you were sitting next to him you looked around the people. and saw han with two chicks on both sides. that sigh made your blood boil but you had to endure.

his phone rang and you woke him. he grimaced but took the phone out of your hands. “moshi moshi (hello)?” he answered and froze there immediately. you watched him gulp and get sweaty. it must be his uncle…

he got up and you started to follow him behind. “takashi, what’s going on?” you asked worriedly. “uncle called, told me he has to speak about business now.” he answered nonchalantly.

before leaving the building, han stood in front of him with the same girls. “has something happened?” he asked, trying to sound worried.

“business calls.” he answered shortly. before starting to walk again he stopped. he looked at han’s face and you noticed it looked glossy. your eyes got widened, haven’t he wiped out your cum from his face..?

“what’s with your face?” takashi asked furrowing his eyebrows. han wiped his forehead with his hand and looked at it. “oh, it’s sweat.” he smiled at him while licking the same hand. he didn’t miss to shoot a wink at you.

as all of you watched takashi leave, han slipped away from the girls and stood behind you. he got close to your ear and whispered.

“round 2?”

[ichorai]

working in the dark ; poe dameron.

pairing ; poe dameron x mechanic!reader

synopsis ; poe should know better than to sneak up on you in the dark.

words ; 1.6k

themes ; fluff, suggestive, mechanic au

warnings / includes ; mild violence/injury, makeout scene that alludes to sex, poe's a sassy love-sick bastard, finn just wants to eat in peace

main masterlist.

Poe could never understand your inexplicable need to torture yourself by working in the dark. It did horrors for your eyes, he’d often tell you, only to be met by your nonchalant shrug and an easy grin. Apparently, you had a hypothesis that the absence of light would somehow conjure up enough motivation for you to finish the upgrades to the black squadron’s X-Wings—though Poe wasn’t entirely sure of the validity of your experiment, he decided to drop by your quarters and say hello.

It took his eyes a couple seconds to adjust to the dimness of the room. Faintly, he could make out your silhouette shuffling to and fro, a wrench bit down between your teeth and manuals crammed under your arms as you frantically worked at the frayed wirings of a broken torpedo launcher.

The first mistake he made was turning up unannounced—he knew how much you liked routine—and how much you hated surprises. 

The second mistake was the fact that he approached you silently, despite the ample time he was given to call out your name.

But, alas, Poe kept his mouth uncharacteristically shut and crept towards you with a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Poe got around half a second of jubilant hilarity upon seeing you jump up nearly twenty feet in the air when he tapped your shoulder—before a fist promptly collided with the side of his face and stars exploded behind his vision.

Kriff, you had a killer left hook. Poe supposed he deserved that.

“Maker!” you whisper-yelled around the wrench between your teeth, briefly pausing to rip it out of your mouth and tossing it back into your toolbox. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Poe. Are you okay? Don’t sneak up on me like that! Did I hurt you? How did you even get in here? Are you bleeding? Maker, I can’t see anything in here!” The words fell past your lips in a panicked jumble, and Poe could only pick up half of what you were saying before your hands were all over his head.

Groaning softly, he pressed his face into your palm, relishing in the way your fingers pleasantly grazed over his stubble. It disappointed him when your touch gently rescinded and you took a small step backwards to squint at him in the darkness.

“I’m turning the lights on. Maker, Poe, I’m really sorry,” you murmured, disappearing from his view for a second before he heard the click of the light switch across the room and everything was doused in a bright, artificial luminescence. You came back into view, eyes wide and teeth worrying into your bottom lip. Now that he could see you better, he spotted the streak of black grease smudged messily over the side of your face, and the unkempt state of your clothes. 

Poe tilted his head, duly ignoring the aching throb around his eye socket where you had decked him. “So, I’m guessing working in the dark doesn’t help you finish things quicker? Shocker.”

Nimbly, your fingers lodged itself beneath his chin, gently rotating his face around to get a good look at him. “I was doing just fine until you showed up, thank you very much.” You glowered slightly in thought, and Poe couldn’t help but find the way your nose wrinkled ever so endearing. “You’re good. I think.”

“Oh, so you were doing fine, huh?” Poe teased, grinning wolfishly, nearly preening when you rolled your eyes and brushed past him. Riling you up was his favorite pastime. “Maybe I’ll look into having your lights permanently taken away—anything for my best mechanic to work in optimum conditions.”

You shot him a nasty stink eye. “You’re not funny, Poe,” you asserted, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m a little funny,” he said as he leaned in closer until his nose was just inches away from yours. This near to you, Poe could smell the faint aroma of your minty spritzer and traces of something else earthy that he just couldn’t seem to get enough of. You reminded him of home, and he missed home so much. 

Not bothering to grace him with a response, your hand came up once more to brush your fingers over his cheekbone. “Promise me you’ll ice this, Poe. I don’t want to see you all bruised up tomorrow. Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he assured you, grinning slightly, despite the fact that it did hurt—very much so. But you didn’t need to know that. “I just wanted to come say hi. I missed you.”

You ducked your head. “You interrupted my work.”

“Didn’t seem like you were getting much done, baby.”

“Oh, shut it.”

Finally, finally, Poe’s arms snaked out to loop over your waist, dragging you closer until his nose was flush against your hairline. “Make me,” he whispered into your skin, and your fists curled into his tunic, yanking him nearer until his lips sealed over yours. He rumbled deep within his chest when one of your hands left the lapels of his shirt to creep into his raven curls, tugging at the roots just the way he liked it. You were overwhelming every single one of his senses and he was doing absolutely nothing but succumb to your scalding touch. 

He kissed you as if it was both the first and last time he’d be able to do so—holding you so tight you were beginning to wonder if this was his form of getting back at you for punching him.

His lips moved frantically, parting so that his teeth could nip playfully at your own, and you hummed in part-annoyance, part-pleasure, shifting your head upwards so he could kiss down your cheeks and jaw, settling at your neck whilst susurrating a low purr of contentment. There, he bit at your skin with a smile, paying special attention to your pulse point, where he could feel your heart thundering over his tongue.

Eventually, you pulled him back up so he could notch his nose back against yours and steal your air away until you were breathless. It didn’t even register in your head when he started walking you backwards (the toolbox knocked against your ankle painfully), pressing you into the broken X-Wing you were working on—which most certainly wasn’t safe but your mind was hazy and it was very much Poe’s fault. The cool metal against your back made your eyes shoot open with initial shock, but immediately squeezed closed again when he raised his hand to tenderly maneuver your chin to the side so he could kiss you even harder. 

As soon as Poe started sneaking his hand lower to undo your work trousers, your fingers unraveled within his mussed hair and grabbed at his wrist before he could go too far, breaking away from him with a heaving chest and an accusatory glare. 

“I have work to do,” you murmured against him, only a hair's breadth away from losing every bit of your composure. Eyes hooded with want, he nodded his head dazedly but continued his ministrations as if he hadn’t heard you at all. With a chortle, you grabbed at his face to land three quick, consecutive kisses on his lips and proceeded to hurriedly waltz away from him despite his whiny protests. “I have work to do, Poe! And I’m nearly a hundred percent certain you do, too!”

“That can wait,” came his impatient grumble. “It’ll take like—five minutes tops.”

You snorted out loud at that, bending down to pick your wrench back up. “Don’t lie to me. Knowing you, we’d go on and on and on and on—” 

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” He wrapped himself behind you, teasingly biting at your ear. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“It’d be nicer to finish my job without you in the way,” you bit out with a slight edge to your tone, but turned around in his arms nonetheless so you could place a soft kiss on his stubbled jaw. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later tonight. Deal?”

“Anything I want?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Deal!” He grinned brightly, pecking your nose once before relinquishing his hold on you, sauntering away while whistling out something that suspiciously sounded like, “Anything I want, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the X-Wing. Poe Dameron was going to be the death of you.

Poe weaved through the hungry throng of people in the cantina, politely nodding hello to his comrades when they waved at him with slight concern etched across their features. He sat down besides Finn with a sigh, reaching over to snatch an apple off his breakfast tray and taking a bite.

“Hey! I was gonna eat that,” Finn grumbled around a mouthful of bread. When he turned to look at his friend, the snappy words faltered on his tongue and he exclaimed, “What the kriff happened to you? Why do you have a black eye?”

Poe paused mid-chew. “What? Oh. Oh, this old thing.” His fingers raised up to trace the tender bruise. He really hadn’t thought about it much—you kept him more than occupied last night. At the thought of you, his eyes darted over to the other end of the cantina, where he saw you sitting on the table with a subtle grin, listening to the other mechanics animatedly chattering. Maker, he was so in love with you it nearly hurt. Well, technically it did hurt. The black eye was physical proof of that. 

Poe slung an arm over Finn’s shoulders after swallowing down the large bite of apple he took. The latter looked at the former as if he’d grown a second head, but Poe kept his heart-shaped gaze trained on you. “I’m in love, man. That’s why.”

[charliespringverse]

i've touched on this before but like . i really do think rowan's feelings get accidentally overlooked by readers that ,,, Aren't a bit obsessed and rereading for the nth time

and it's understandable because the version we primarily get of rowan is fereshteh's warped fanon & jimmy's longtime best friend mental illness riddled descriptions . and Because jimmy is unwell he almost idolises rowan in a way that holds him up as a pillar of stability and permanence — which is what jimmy needs and it's not a wholly negative thing, but he also inadvertently fails to accept any evidence to the contrary

whereas with lister we Learn a lot because jimmy is learning a lot — through deeper-than-usual conversations or blatant cries for help or very revealing behaviours — we don't get to discover anything new about rowan, and so when he's kinda mean or angry or distrusting it's easy to misinterpret that as him being deliberately and needlessly nasty

but if you stop looking at him through jimmy's lens, that boy has had an absolute bastard of a week . the jowan photo leak affects him as much as jimmy (arguably more so, because all the while he's dating bliss, jowan is an Active Lie rather than just an untruth), he's dealing with the same contract stress, his secret relationship has been exposed to the world, his girlfriend is ignoring him at a really difficult time, he's watching his two closest friends fall apart, he's learning that he really doesn't know one of them very well at all, his best friend is missing, the other is definitely an alcoholic making no moves to resolve that, his girlfriend has dumped him, he feels like they (and bliss) are being stalked by a member of a group he already feels like he isn't safe around, he feels like he's losing the two people closest to him

and all this time he's considering himself wholly and singlehandedly responsible for fixing all of this, feeling he has to hold himself and the world together . there's no real safe space for him to unload any of this because the three people he's closest to are either dumping him or going off the rails, and the only way he's ever known how to make himself comfortable is to have complete control over a situation, which just Is Not available to him here

it's not the fault of jimmy's narration that we never get to truly sit with the extent of what's going on with rowan, and in fact it really Really adds to the themes of being unable to truly know somebody and personal perception destroying objective truth

but GOD it breaks my heart to see people say they don't care for rowan, or don't like him, because he's snappy and sweary and short with people . because that's such a natural response to having that much shit piled on top of you in under a week AND losing your only coping mechanism (in this case, taking the weight of everything and moulding it into something tangible and possible to hold)

anyway. i am a rowan omondi stan first and a human being second and WOW rowan needs therapy and jimmy needs to stop idealising him

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 34 - Fireside Chats

Y'all take a breather. Leaving you and Astarion on first watch.

Rated M for language and violence (once the sex stuff hits it'll go to E). Updates Saturdays and Wednesdays.

On AO3.

No one has the energy to march back out, and Gale is fresh out of mojo. None of y’all want to camp in the creepy fucking swamp lair, but the alternative is free range bog. You literally feel your White ancestors shushing you, it’ll be fine, the bad thing is gone, is that oakwood flooring?

Amongst all the shuffling and the “what the fuck was that noise”, Shadowheart finds a horde of herbs. A decent chunk of them is the mergrass Gale needs to brew dirt potion, thank fucking god.

You took the fewest injuries, and as Ethel’s dirt potion still works, you take the first watch with Astarion (creepy murder hag house needs two people, no splitting up, your Cherokee ancestors rejoice).

Dinner is cold cheese and slightly stale bread. No one complains; nobody wants to trust Ethel’s stove or fireplace. Probably some kind of murder pit waiting to be activated. Y’all don’t explore much, either. Even Astarion lingers closer to the tent huddle than usual (and they did all put up tents; it’s a psychological thing, you’re sure). He’s quieter, than usual, hands still and unmoving at his sides.

He’s actually too still, now that you look. Barely breathing, gaze shifting around and restless. But the rest of him is unmoving. The hag had been shouting insults at all y’all, and had said something to him about being leashed at one point.

“You alright?” you say, seating yourself nearby.

He blinks. Eyes track to you. “Oh yes, just fine, darling.”

It’s like dropping a quarter into one of them old mechanical pony rides stores used to have outside the front door. A chunk, and a pink unicorn—paint sun-faded and chipped—surges into movement. His face hitches up in a micro expression (smug, sass, all the usual). His breathing increases to what might almost be normal. Even his hands flutter back to life.

Huh.

“How’re you doing food-wise?” you say. “Or, y’know, blood-wise?”

“You’re awfully concerned about my health this evening, aren’t you?” His eyelids droop into that silly, flirtatious dip. “Offering me a snack?”

“Still too soon. And we just fought a hag, which everyone was right about her being a nightmare. So yeah, wanted to make sure you don’t got acid melting through your foot or nothing, sue me.”

“Mmm.” He settles his chin in his hand, one finger tracing up the side of his face. Regards you. “So, how’s the tethering potion working for you?”

Fucking blood potion. Nasty ass, fucking vile thing. The only benefit you feel is the kind of exhaustion has shifted (less depression monotony, more muscles crying in agony) and the chronic headache has, blessedly, fucked right off.

So maybe it’s worth it.

He notices all of this, of course. His smile widens. Vampire man must find this hilarious.

“What’s it taste like, to you?” you say. “Blood, I mean?”

His eyebrows lift. He looks up, thinking. “Animal blood is all plonk compared to—other things. But leagues better than the rats and bugs Cazador deigned to give me.”

Add another bullet point to your list of “reasons to kill that fuckface.”

“What do I taste like?” you say, right as Shadowheart emerges from her tent. She arches a solitary eyebrow and you can feel her judgment. “My blood! I meant my blood, not some kinda, uh, innuendo.”

She makes a “sure, Jan” face and proceeds to leave the circle for the door leading outside. Nature must be calling.

So obviously Astarion grins like a lecher. Bastard.

“Hmm, what do you taste like,” he says. To your surprise, he shifts past the leer and actually seems to consider the question. “Warmth, first and foremost. Salty and savory, but with a hint of spices, rather like a mulled wine.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, I quite enjoyed it.”

You ain’t blushing. You’re almost blushing? Why in the fuck would that make you blush? Bastard has two modes: flirt and murder hobo, and he only ever means the latter.

Things are so weird, here. The people are weird, the monsters are weird, and apparently it’s contagious.

“So blood is like booze for you?” you say because you gotta shift the tone here.

“Mmm. They are rather alike, aren’t they?”

Unfortunately, being in the middle of a hag house, y’all did not light a fire on her floor. So there ain’t no flames to distract you, and you both sit there for a good moment or two. Watch Shadowheart come back and she absolutely does not give you a “I see you two sitting together over there” glare.

“So,” Astarion says with a goddamn tone. “As a fellow blood drinker—”

“It’s a drop from each of you and it’s cooked with leaves and mushrooms and shit.”

“As a fellow blood drinker, who’s your favorite? I’ve only tasted you, darling, but you’ve sampled the full spread, as it were. Lucky thing.”

“All I taste is like licking an iron pipe.”

“What?” He sounds genuinely surprised. Then he clicks his tongue. “Such a waste.”

You shrug. “No vampire senses, I guess.”

He processes that. An odd look crosses his face and disappears again. And then he’s back to smarm. “So, in the spirit of theoretical questions, if you could taste anything besides that wretched description, which of our dearest companions would you take a mouthful of?”

…is that an innuendo? That sounds like an innuendo. Goddamn, the man never stops. No wonder he’s got a pile of lovers back in his hometown.

It also sounds like he’s actually asking your opinion on which one to nibble first.

“This is theoretical, right?”

He places a hand lightly over his heart, the wikipedia banner image of solemn. “Of course. I’ve wondered about Gale, myself. He strikes me as someone whose blood is rich, refined as a well-aged brandy.”

Gale is a wizard, and they’re probably snooty, yeah? Except Gale has more than a dash of awkwardness in there.

“And then there’s the gith,” he says. “What in the hells do you think she tastes like?

You know jack shit about alcohol. Try to think of some way to add to this conversation without revealing that (people get weird about it).

But he beats you to that non-alcoholic punch. Fake gasps and looks at you, all smugly scandalized. “Oh, but that’s right. You told our dearest Blade that you don’t drink.”

And the man casually leans in to pat your fucking cheek. You jerk back, swipe at him. But he’s already retreating out of range, and continuing on because he’s fucking horrible like that. “You poor, poor thing. That must be so boring, darling. How sheltered are you, exactly?”

Extremely, in some ways. And aggressively not in other ways on very, very purpose because your mother and her band of psychos can fuck right off into the sun, you’re a goddamn adult, fuck you very much.

“You eavesdrop on the regular?” you say.

He taps the pointed tip of his long ear. “Darling, when you have my hearing, you learn everything about everyone in camp.”

…good to know, holy shit.

“I bet Lae’zel is sour,” you say, shoving this conversation back on track. “Like, really sour. Maybe a gamy undertone.”

He pauses, opens his mouth. Shuts it and taps his finger to his chin. “Hmm. You might be right.”

“You, uh, you looking at other necks?”

His smirk morphs into a malicious sneer. “Oh, don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m a man of tremendous appetites. Still this is just a little team bonding, eh? Good for morale and all?”

You…feel like he’s saying something else. You ain’t sure what, like hearing a voice in another room but unable to pick out a single word. And before you can try to work on that he changes the subject.

“So, you don’t like drinking? Surely the benefits outweigh the taste?” he says.

Honestly, that gets you more questions than almost anything else (the top contender is the lack of bed partners, because people get real weird about that so you don’t bring it up). They assume it’s a religious thing. And maybe that did keep you from developing a taste earlier in life, but you’d tried plenty ever since (out of spite) and they’re all horrifying.

“Not really,” you say, and stick out your tongue in what you hope is the universal “blurgh” face. “I can drink it in other stuff, sometimes, but I’d just rather not.”

“You dislike bitter things. Noted.”

Did…did he just turn that into some kinda innuendo? Because his tone suggests it is, but the words make no damn sense and you stare at him for a hot minute.

“You’re being real weird tonight,” you say. And immediately regret being so forward and the first twinge of panic uncurls beneath your lungs.

But he only grins and leans back on his hands. “We just murdered a hag, my dear, as you noted. Is it a crime to bask in our victory?”

Everyone and everything was so scared of her. Those still-living people below had been trapped so long. Even Gandrel, a professional monster hunter, was wary of her.

“Guess not,” you say.

“Thank you. And you never did answer my question, you know.” At your blank stare, “If you could properly sample anyone here, who would it be?”

Six tents, yours and his included. Nobody did their extra stuff today—no writing desk for Gale or practice dummies for Lae’zel. Just a closed tent and a bedroll within. You suspect y’all will be hoofing out the second y’all can in the morning, this entire place be damned. The tents are all, to your ears, quiet.

“I dunno,” you say. “Guess it depends on what makes blood taste different. You said it’s life force, right? So wouldn’t someone like, say, Wyll, be better than Gale? Just cause he’s younger? Or is it experience? Fitness? Is diet a factor? I mean, if somebody eats chocolate, it puts sugars and hormones into the bloodstream. Does that alter what you get outta it?”

Now it’s his turn to stare. To blink. “I don’t really know, darling. This is theoretical.”

“Do you want to know?” Because you do. Sweat smells different when the body processes alcohol. Urine smells different depending on vegetable consumption. “The human—er the body is basically a big, interwoven chemistry set. Whole thing is run on chemicals and hormones. So tweaking some a those ought to affect what you get out of it. Unless it’s all magical, vampire bullshit stuff. But we could experiment, maybe? If you wanted?”

And now a slight frown folds the skin between his brows. You’ve gone and overdone it again. Fuck.

“Wyll,” you blurt. “I’d try Wyll.”

He pauses, and then smooths back into that delighted grin. “Ah, I was thinking the same. All that self-righteous heroics. Honestly, that man.”

See? He flirts with everybody. Guy is just a flirty nut. But you two’ve established the foundations of a game, so you look at him. Hold that eye contact while keeping your face blank in the way most other people find intimidating (it’s not anything, you’re literally just holding still).

Astarion, shockingly, only rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes. I have no intention of snacking on our beloved teammates.” Sweeps his gaze to your neck. “Aside from one. When she permits me to end my agony.”

Good lord, this guy. He really is punch drunk off this fight.

“I honestly started feeling a lot better a lot quicker than when I donated back home,” you say. “I’ll ask how that all works in the morning when Gale potions me up. See if the healing juice speeds up red cell production. If it does, maybe you can tap in more often.”

Blood and dirt. What an exciting flavor profile. You almost fold into a groan.

“Really?” Astarion says. There’s the barest tremble to his voice. The lightest touch of what you could almost describe as incredulity.

Acknowledging something that skittish would only send it sprinting off. So you continue as if you hadn’t noticed. “Sure. If you want to?”

And then he leans in. Like, leans in, and his eyelids drop. “Oh darling, I will eat you right up.”

Oookay. You know he’s ridiculous, but the man is upping it to the nth degree. What an absolute goober.

He settles back before you can shove his head. You have to settle for a brushing motion with your fingers. “Yeah, yeah. Keep your fangs in your mouth please.”

The man full on simpers. Clucks his tongue, even. And in the most oozing, sleaziest tone imaginable, “Oh, you sweet, generous thing. I’ll be waiting.”

He’s just too much. You still feel yourself smile, though.

[spotsupstuff]

I love NAE and I know he is a bit (well, more than a bit) of an antagonistic cretin, but it feels like his anti-social personality might be a coping mechanism for personal issues and insecurities he is struggling with. I could be completely wrong and he's just simply a bad person, but I feel like it's more than that. Either way I think he needs a therapy animal.

hoyly hell you've just given him characterization shots in so many directions that i don't know where to look first GJDSKLMCL

he's not exactly antisocial or anythin! antagonistic cretin he is, but that's just how he rolls, lil bit of a douche- have you seen that one vid with a guy walking his Emu hold on here- he embodies this in most situations

on one hand NAE is a lil shithead but he's a Fun shithead. cursin' up a storm is kinda just what some people do/how they interact. heavens know that when i bring out the curse n nasty words it means i'm havin a nice chill convo with someone

after this

he went and notified his own Admin/Mechanic about it so she could've go and help out Sparrows with things

if he was just Plain asshole stuff like this wouldn't happen

these two hang out, Euros gets a rise outta him by bringing up something painfully stupid, NAE calls him a fucking idiot with an apocalyptically low count of neurons and then they continue their hang out

he's neither a bad person or coping with his own issues/insecurities! he's just a tiny ball of rage who's rolling through life wishing he had one more finger so he could flip people off. bastard is prolly the best off outta the dramatic tragedies that are most of the Eo iterators

guy is guying 🤷‍♀️

n honestly he'd... probably kick an animal sooner than take one on for therapy reasons, he would Not have the patience

[peppermintchaos]

mg breakup comic script but apparently at some point i turned it into a fic ( i do not remember writing this)

Their eyes weren't supposed to look like that.

She realized that before she noticed the cuts marring their skin, before she noticed Mochi’s white-knuckled grip on their mace or the way Beta twisted the bracelets on its wrists anxiously. The air was heavy and thick. The rooftop of this office building was reduced to rubble. Ash loosened and re-adjusted their gauntlets repeatedly. Peppermint stared just past her, unnaturally still. The artificial blue eyes of their transformation looked completely hollow, devoid of that spark of determination that had shone in them as long as she had known them.

“You guys don't need me, do you?” They said suddenly. Usually, Takeover thought, that statement should be full of their usual malice, biting with anger, but now- they just sounded tired. Blood started to run down their leg from a particularly nasty cut. Beta stared harder at it’s bracelets, clearly trying to kick in the auto-healing magic that had been acting up more and more lately on both PRNCSS and Starshine.

“What-?” Ash started, until the tip of Peppermint’s rifle was pointed straight at their face, effectively shutting them up as the archer jumped back, confused. “Leaving me as bait?” Those deadened eyes looked straight at Takeover, making her deeply uncomfortable. She didn't like this feeling. “I thought we were- I thought you-” They lowered their rifle slowly, laughing emptily. “I’m worth nothing to you. Maybe you’re right. There's nothing worth saving behind that stupid-”

“Peppermint.”

“Apathetic-”

“Peppermint.”

“Fake smile of yours-”

“Peppermint, we’re exactly the same. You’re lying about who you are too.”

They stood there, blankly. Empty. The empty shell of someone else, eyes dead, like a haunted porcelain doll.

It was a sight Takeover knew well.

Suddenly, Peppermint stood on the farthest ledge of the destroyed building. “I’m done.”

Beta reached out a hand, fear glinting in its mechanical eyes.

“I quit being a magical girl.”

And with a bright blue flash, they were gone. It was almost violent in its abruptness.

Takeover wondered if those uncanny dead eyes were what everyone saw when they looked at her- if this is what they had felt when they declared that they were going to save her. Something surged through her, painful. A sudden, unfamiliar barrage of wanting.

She wanted her friend back. She didn't want to be alone again. She wanted to keep being a magical girl. She wanted to be saved. She didn't want to be trapped anymore. She didn't want to keep being afraid of her “self,” that so-called real one. Afraid that she would figure herself out and only be a disappointment. She didn't want to see that dead look in her own eyes ever again. It made her sick. Feeling anything at all made her sick. Regret, shame, sadness, all of it.

She laughed.

It was brief, nothing but two sharp exhales combined with a gentle sound that lasted all of a second. It was nothing like the polite, charming laugh that her classmates saw, that the audiences on those talk shows saw.

Peppermint looked at her, shocked, then amused.

“Didn't know you knew how to do that one.”

Takeover’s face returned to her usual neutral expression.

“...Me neither.”

The corners of her lips turned up slightly, almost imperceptible.

“Did we really just lose a member?” Mochi said, quietly.

Beta shook its head. “Maybe for now, but… everyone here was chosen for a reason.”

Ash patted the android between it’s ears. “I just love it when you say those weirdly cryptic things.” Beta smiled at them innocently.

Takeover turned to the group. “They’ll be able to take care of themself.” She was sure of that much. “It’s the rest of us that we’ll have to worry about. Our strategies will have to change.”

Something stirred in her chest. She was… upset. Didn't that feel like the right word? God, that bastard must have been right. About a lot of things.

Mochi’s face moved into the center of her vision. “Are you ok? You look really, um, angry.”

Takeover felt her face contort against her will. “I am,” she said. “How stupid is that?”

“What... are you upset about?”

“They won that stupid bet. I’m real after all.”

[silvcrignis]

Every Now & Then I Beat The Living Shit Outta Me || William & William

@lettherebemonsters con’t from {x}

He knew never to expect the obvious....but he definitely wasn't expecting this! Thankfully his heavy dense coat was able to block a great majority of the electricity from the stun gun, giving him enough time to swing around and smack the weapon from his other's hands.

His own rage evident from the way his eyes glowed hot.

" If I had known what kind of a pathetic WEAKLING I'd end up being I'd have killed myself long ago! Instead of letting those little bastards do it to me instead!"

He grabbed his human self, opening his jaws so wide he could swallow him whole. The mangled human skull inside ruined beyond repair.....those sightless empty eye sockets now jammed full of fires and electronics.

His voice reverberating from the voice box in his chest.

" You're turning your back on our youngest. You remember what he looked like.....what that THING did to him! I bet you don't even grieve Elizabeth anymore...."

How quaint. His head was already thrown back in the throes of WILD manic CACKLES in the face of his monstrous reflection. Maybe this mechanical MORON thought they were a one to one that he would just ACCEPT a fate he handed out to him. William Richard Afton was a multitude of things: a monster, a liar, a DEMON but after he had escaped those springlocks he was no COWARD.

“Oh? The EASY way out? Of course you would want to do that instead of FACING what  you were, instead of making your PEACE with the NASTINESS inside you... If you want to KILL yourself-” he paused, WRENCHING one of his pinned arms from the cold metallic grip, plunging his hand inside of the DIGUSTING flesh Clowntrap had so FOOLISHLY laid bare to him (All that had REALLY done was expose the place he should aim for the NEXT time. This version of him himself REALLY left too many cards out on the table too early... ARROGANCE he supposed.)

“Allow ME to take a STAB at it FOR you,” he growled, his neon green painted (chipping) nails, digging into what was left of the corpse’s inside THROAT so he could lean close & continue his MALICIOUS tirade.

“... You mean the THING w e built? The thing that WE should have protected them BOTH from? The fact that Michael SHOULDN’T have been SHOULDERING the burden of our f a i l u r e as a father to even be PUT in that position! The only thing that’s happening is that YOU’RE turning your back on our OLDEST while conveniently FORGETTING we’re ALL he has LEFT in this WORLD! You DON’T get to do that & then DARE speak Lizzie’s name to me!” he snarled back, his nails clenching deeper & deeper.

The same nails that were still painted that silly shade... “Tree Frog Green” according to the glimmering text on the bottle Lizzie had EXCITEDLY rushed into his office with. He’d never LIKED neon green, it’d clashed HORRIBLY with his complexion but he had held his hands out & let Elizabeth paint them that colour all the same because it had made her HAPPY & that was all that had mattered, he had been doing what a father SHOULD do.

“Do you want him to DECIDE you’re not WORTH being his family? Do you think PUNISHING him in order to punish YOURSELF is the right FUCKING thing to do?!” he hissed, before sending a hot glob of SPIT into one of the empty eye sockets in front of him.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Sooooo...

I found out that David got his first role in the Doctor Who universe in 2001 with Big Finish for a Seventh Doctor and Ace story. Where they are in WWII.

And David plays a bad guy in it. A really, really nasty bastard of a bad guy (he's a n*zi who is way too interested in my girl Ace).

The audio story itself is interesting, it has to do with paradoxes which are always fascinating for a time travel series because that means you fucked up somewhere, and I think Seven and Ace are such a cool team (and also cause I LOVE Ace), but holy shit. Holy shit there is a lot of stuff going on, especially the ending.

Spoilers.

David's character dies in it, and he has probably one of the most horrific deaths I've ever come across in all my years enjoying this series.

His character is trying to kill Ace and tries to get into the TARDIS, where he shoots the console and she activates which has her begin to dematerialize.

With him both inside and outside the TARDIS as it happens.

There is now a safety mechanism that prevents anyone from ever dying like he did because it was too fucking gruesome.

Anyway, David's first acting job for his favorite series certainly was something!

After that he went on to play Daft Jamie in one of my favorite audio dramas with Six, another bastard character for a UNIT series that I probably won't listen to, and then he played my tragic boy Galanar in the Dalek Empire audio series and I still have no answers as to what the fuck happened to this character even though it's been 19 years. Did he die? Did he live? Did he get converted into the Dalek monstrosity? When will I be able to do anything with this guy on this blog?

no i will not include this awful creepy man as someone to write or draw for he deserved what he got even if it was a nightmare death i just wanted to talk about david's first dw role before he ever played the doctor

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

I’m not sure if you’ve already made a post about this (I’m sorry if you have) but would you mind telling us about your detective in Wayhaven?

-transsidestep

@transsidestep Thank you for the ask! I haven't, actually. I have one for each of UB, but Mason and Nate's are still being fleshed out and worked upon, so I'll tell you about the other two.

Julian Mendez:

Deduction and science-leaning with atrocious people skills and just enough self defense knowledge to get by

He's a very stoic and intimidating person upon first blush, and can be pretty hard to get to know due to quite a bit of trust issues. But once he sees you as part of his family, he'd move the earth and stars for you.

His and Rebecca's relationship is incredibly prickly. Julian values honesty pretty highly, which meant the secrets Rebecca keeps kept the rift between them pretty wide. As a child, he wanted for nothing materially, but he's never really forgiven her for not being there personally.

He fell for Felix pretty hard. It started off as attraction, something which he tried to ignore given that he knew UB's stay was only temporary, but they're both incredibly passionate individuals who see the world in unique ways. Their weirdness gels really well.

He's also chronically ill. SLE and a heart defect that devolved into needed a mechanical valve. He also has occasional bouts of over-stimulation and food aversion.

Instead of being a beat cop with Tina, he was actually a forensic pathologist with Verda. He calls him Sol.

He begrudgingly accepted the nickname "Jules" from Tina. Felix calls him that because he thinks it's cute and because Julian is a sucker for him. Nate accidentally picked it up, but Julian hasn't had the heart to tell him otherwise.

Grew up speaking both English and Spanish and so his accent is a little odd to most people in Wayhaven. Has a tendency to break into Spanish when really embarrassed or really upset.

Raine Callaghan:

The eldest of my detectives at the grand age of 39. The events of the books expedite his progress towards a silver fox.

His highest skills are combat and psychology and it really shows. He's a bit of a loveable rogue archetype, charming and a bit smarmy, prone to sarcasm. He hides his anxieties behind humor.

He and Rebecca used to have a decent relationship when he was younger (he's actually her stepson - Rook died when he was about 8 years old), but have drifted apart since Rook died and Eoin (Rebecca and Rook's son) got hospitalized. They might could fix their relationship if they could learn to talk to each other again.

Grew up in Belfast during the Troubles. He hides his accent after some nasty interactions upon Rebecca first moving him out to London. The more he hangs out with Unit Bravo, the more he falls back into it. It has a lot to do with trust and feeling safe.

He is the bane of Adam's job for a good while. They butt heads quite a bit early on, both finding the other to be an arrogant bastard, and only really become friends over the course of late Book One and throughout Book Two. They don't start falling for each other until Book Three. They are both find the other attractive early on, but shelf the attraction in lieu of their rivalry.

Comes across a little foolhardy and easygoing, but he's actually quite clever and exceptionally protective of his friends. One of the first things that wins Adam's respect is his willingness to stand up for the team as well as his drive when it comes down to brass tacks.

After the Bobby-plagiarism fiasco in college (which led to him dropping out), Raine decided if everyone was gonna see him as a troublemaker, he'd best start making trouble. He became quite the prolific con artist, with a heavy leaning into pickpocketing and some minor carjacking. It was join the force or go to jail - he reluctantly opted for the force.

His full name is actually Ciaran. Legally changed it in college for spiteful reasons. Kind of regrets it now. He tells it to Adam at the end of Book Two. Once they're on first name basis, Adam uses it when they're alone.

[onyourrite]

For @seekingseven; I am so so SO sorry for my tardiness with your Christmas present! Life got in the way but I’ve come up with your request :) I went off your request and decided to include as many people as possible, so here’s the Project D and Todo School gangs hanging out:

————

“... and that’s how I decided never to let Sudo arrange a blind date for me ever again,” Tachi concluded before taking another swig of his drink.

Keisuke guffawed before asking, “You’re serious? The girl wanted,” he paused to suggestively gesture which elicited groans from Ryosuke, Fumihiro, and Matsumoto, “over the hood of your EK9?”

Tachi could only nod with an exasperated expression. Along with him were Daiki and Smiley on either side of him in lawn chairs. The Project D crew was present as well, haphazardly taking a seat wherever they could find one out in front of the Tudo School. The summer night breeze maintained what Takumi considered to be the Holy Grail of Temperatures; not too hot where you’re sweating your ass off but also not too cold where you’re constantly two shivers away from keeling over due to hypothermia. Coupled with the view of the mountains, Takumi noticed that it was rather peaceful and he idly considered how he’d love to have a view like this back home.

“Say, Takumi,” Ryosuke spoke as the group focused their attention on the mastermind behind Project D, “how’s the Impreza treating you?”

Takumi took a drink of his juice (he was just a year shy of the drinking age but Ryosuke refused to hand him any alcohol as if said minor didn’t break the law on a nightly basis by racing up and down Mount Akina) before answering, “It’s going good. I think I’m getting the hang of it, Dr. Joshima’s single-hand steer goes well with the 4WD.”

“An Impreza?” Smiley asked, whistling in appreciation. “I test-drove my cousin’s the other day and it’s a sweet ride.”

“It’s very stable,” Takumi offered. A car drove past the group and its headlights briefly washed over everyone before continuing its steady meander up the slope. He cleared his throat before continuing, “The air conditioning is also better than my Eight-Six’s.”

“Don’t get me started on that,” Daiki mock-threatened, jumping into the conversation. “I’m 90% sure Mr. Todo screwed with it since I’ll put it on full blast and it does jack shit. Probably for ‘better efficiency,’ knowing him,” he grumbled.

Smiley suddenly snickered and the look on his face suggested that he must’ve remembered something. “Wait, I don’t think I told you guys about The Beetle Incident from a few months ago-”

“Smiley, no-” Daiki pressed as a blush manifested across his cheeks.

“Smiley, yes,” Keisuke smirked as he leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear this story. Ryosuke pointedly looked at Keisuke while wearing his patented Disappointed-Older-Brother Stare and Takumi noted how Fumihiro and the mechanics rolled their eyes upon noticing Ryosuke’s expression.

Smiley set his drink aside before beginning his narration. “So we’re practicing out on the pass, yeah?” The others sans Daiki, who’d taken quite an interest in the cracked asphalt underneath his feet, nodded. “Daiki’s out in front, with his windows down by the way,” Smiley noted. “Anyway, I’m chasing him when we get to one corner and he just,” he wildly gestured, “went all over the place. Anyway, I overtake him and when we get back to the School he jumps out of his car clawing at his face, and runs inside screaming-”

Daiki interrupted. “I was not screaming, you bastard-”

“-And I finally get a look at his face and there’s this massive fucking beetle on his cheek,” Smiley cringed as he remembered the vile nature of that creature. “He’s screaming at Mr. Todo to get it off and when he got it off there was this nasty fucking juice-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Tachi interrupted, noticeably green in the face as he put his drink down.

“I second that notion,” Tomiguchi said as he grimaced, quickly tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear.

“Anyway, that’s why Daiki refuses to roll the windows down anytime he drives,” Smiley concluded.

“For good reason!” Daiki cried. “That thing was fucking scary, I nearly pissed my pants!”

Takumi decided that a change of topic was in order (and thinking about the bug in question was also beginning to mess with his stomach as well). “Is anyone hungry?”

“Someone finally said it!” Keisuke said. He leaned back in his seat and huffed in relief. “I’m starving, Fujiwara.”

“Same here,” Daiki said.

“I suppose it’s a good time for a nighttime snack,” Ryosuke considered.

“I know a good place to eat,” Tachi suggested. “But they don’t do delivery and they’re down the mountain.”

Fumihiro spoke up. “If you guys know what you want, I could take your orders and grab them.”

Takumi’s gaze idly slid over to where everyone had parked their cars. The Todo School Hondas, the Takahashis’ RX-7s, his Impreza, Fumihiro’s MR2 along with Matsumoto’s and Tomiguchi’s cars were all parked facing the road as if poised to attack the slope at any time.

Keisuke noticed Takumi’s gaze and followed it to the parked vehicles before grinning. Interrupting Ryosuke’s suggestion to pay the restaurant extra to deliver the food, he said, “Let’s all go down there. Last one there foots the bill,” he wisecracked, a glint in his eyes making itself known.

The group fell silent and any movement ceased as everyone considered the offer. A beat passed, marked by the choir of crickets making itself known from the bushes across the way. But Smiley tossing his empty bottle into the nearby trash can broke the calm. The group jumped into action, leaping out of their seats and checking for their keys before running to their respective cars. Surprisingly, even the “elders” in the group (as Ryosuke, Fumihiro, and Matsumoto were collectively referred to) entertained Keisuke’s notion and partook in the game. As Takumi sprinted toward the Impreza with Keisuke aiming at his FD, he didn’t miss the wide, childlike grins the elders wore as they all but lunged into their cars.

Takumi may have been somewhat shorter than most guys, but his lean frame offered him the advantage of nimbleness. He wasted no time in turning the Impreza’s engine over and peeling out of the lot with the Takahashi brothers’ RX-7s right on his tail. Just behind them was the Todo School gang with Tachi’s EK9 leading the two students’ Civic and Integra. But before Takumi could even consider the remaining three members, the first corner approached and jarred his consciousness back into the here and now. He cleared the sharp left turn with ease thanks to the single-handed steer (it really was convenient, wasn’t it?) and the turbocharger fluttered as he opened up the throttle before upshifting. The lights in his mirror vanished for all but a moment before manifesting once more, refusing to give up and fall behind. Takumi smiled to himself.

This was going to be a fun trip down the mountain.

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Vapors 61

"Um… Not sure what I should do with these." Aiko bit her lip, looking at the oversized clothes she had shucked and set on top of the counter before her shower the night before. It would probably be polite to wash them before she returned them, right? It would also be a shame to return them from her laundry, because they still carried Kakashi's scent as they were, but they were also a bit sandy and wrinkled. Kakashi would probably launder them again right away because he didn't use the same detergent, but it couldn't be helped.

For form's sake, at least, she dumped them in the washer and liberally poured on some of the syrupy green washing fluid (and took a deep breath of the artificial but still yummy apple scent) before clanging the lid shut and moving to working on cleaning the sandy bits out of her own boots with a grimace. Hers were the only shoes in the genkan- Naruto and Karin had already left for their morning conditioning, and Hinata was out for a run with Kiba and Akamaru.

She had another two days of restricted activity before she could return to training, and Aiko already had an idea as to how she would spend at least some of the time. Learning how to set intangible seals and attach them to whatever she wanted had been a lucky break, but it also made her think of the potential problems that could arise from having so many active seals loose at once. Minato had utilized hundreds of them at a time—it was mind-boggling when she really thought about it. It also made it easy to understand just how other people had managed to get a hold of copies. No one had ever successfully deconstructed one and he'd blown through any traps set for him, but she didn't pretend to think she was immortal. There was always someone bigger and badder than you, even if you were as powerful as Minato had been.

Granted, his seals had dissolved on his death, so at least no one had been able to reverse engineer them. That had been a good bit of forethought. Hiraishin was only rare because it was jealously guarded. Jiraiya scoffed at the idea because he was a bit of an intellectual elitist, but she was sure that someone out there would be just as capable as she was of patching together even an inferior version with access to a finished copy.

Aiko would rather trap hers than let that happen. Hiraishin was nearly unbeatable… when no one else had it. She didn't need competition, thank you very much. Fuck fair play.

'And thank you Danzo-sama, for giving me the concept for this combination seal,' she silently mocked while rummaging through her notes on his silencing seal. He had combined a locking mechanism with paralysis. That wasn't exactly what she needed for her purposes, but it did make her think about how she could combine a locking mechanism with a destructive element that she could activate from a distance.

It was an undoubtedly nasty concept. If she felt anyone twanging at the structure of a seal and attempting to pick the lock, she could reach out and sever the connection so that it literally blew up in their faces. She had no idea exactly what it would do if it were attached directly to a person- would they blow up entirely, or would they just blink and suddenly be missing a patch of skin?

'Somehow, the thought is more amusing than anything else. I could probably vary the explosion by how violently I trigger it. I should test that out.'

Maybe it was just a little bit insanely paranoid, but no one had ever died from being too careful. At least, a statistically significant percentage of people didn't die from being too careful. There'd probably been some freak accident in Konoha's history that killed the twitchiest bastard around, but that was beside the point.

It was pitifully easy to draw up her additions after having mulled over them on the trip back (getting interrupted by the washer's beep mid-process) and attach them to a Hiraishin seal. She set it aside on her bedside table to show Jiraiya later, straining to reach from her cross-legged position against the wall at the head of her bed. She gave a stretch when she was done before scooting forward just a bit and extending her legs, digging her toes into the soft fabric of her comforter.

Her head lightly rested against the cool wall, pushing her hair out to tumble over her shoulders while she considered the implications of what she had just done.

'You know, this could be considered a way of perfecting a tracking specialty. Now that I can set a seal with a chakra pulse, I only have to be able to touch someone anywhere once to find them again. If I use the trapped one, I don't even have to find them again unless to confirm the kill.'

Aiko was sure that this episode of tampering wouldn't affect anything about the Hiraishin itself, but it couldn't hurt to have an expert opinion when Jiraiya was apparently willing to help her out. She'd have to hurry on that, though, before he left town. It would be best to switch out all her old seals for new ones as soon as possible and destroy the less efficient copies. Leaving prototypes lying around would be just idiotic. Well. Maybe she'd leave Kakashi and Yamato with untrapped seals. It wouldn't really be necessary in those cases. They were both trustworthy and not about to play 'rescue me Daphne' like poor Naruto might if Akatsuki got their way. She'd both give him a trapped seal on a kunai and a regular one as an invisible tattoo.

"You know, I thought Karin was exaggerating when she said you almost never leave the house for anything but work or training." Naruto frowned at her from the doorway. "That's so boring, Aiko. There's tons of stuff to do in Konoha that I couldn't do while I was away." He hopped onto her bed in a crouch, sending her bouncing up unwillingly, and he wiggled into her personal space. "Ino-chan's getting a group together to go out to the lake. I'll go if you do."

'He's too good at the puppy eyes.'

Aiko flinched back, torn between wanting to make Naruto happy and not wanting to commit to a day around a large group of people. Once she was there, she couldn't escape without looking like a rude lunatic. "That's not fair," she muttered, giving him an irritable shove that sent Naruto dramatically flopping onto his side on the bed.

"I'm wounded," he wailed, snatching the unguarded pillow and curling up like a pill bug, face squooshed miserably into the blue fabric. "If you loved me, you'd go to the lake, and get a tan, and build a sand castle, and we can have a water fight, and there'll be a picnic, and-"

Aiko rolled her eyes and tugged out the pillow from behind her back to whap him with. She wasn't fast enough- he wrestled it away from her lightning-fast and added it to his horde, lifting his face just enough to give her a cheeky grin before sticking his nose back into the fabric.

"Alright, alright, I'll go."

He wasn't going to leave her alone about it anyways.

"Cool!" Naruto sat up like a meercat, grinning toothily. "I knew you'd agree. S'ats why Ino is waiting in the front room. She says you don't own a swimming suit?"

"I do own a…" She trailed off. "Huh. Why does Ino know more about my wardrobe than I do?"

Her brother shrugged, tugging on her arm and nearly sending her to the floor before she managed to unhook her legs and get her feet on the floor. He didn't even seem to notice, steam-rolling towards her door. "She knows everything, I guess?"

"Not everything, I need to take out a load of laundry before I go or it'll wrinkle." She raised her voice to be heard and pulled her arm out of Naruto's grip. "It'll be just a minute, Ino!"

"Kay!" came the answering shout from where Ino was probably raiding the cupboards for cookies. They were the disappointing boxed kind, but no one had been baking lately.

She'd washed Kakashi's clothes alone, so it only took a moment to fold them and stick them in her top drawer to deal with later and keep them safe from Smaug, who had finally become enough of a calamity to deserve the name.

Aiko tried very hard not to grimace and remembered the mental note she'd made while being lugged back to Konoha- she was going to pack so many extra changes of underwear and hide them in a seal that it wasn't funny. Hers had been shredded by explosive clay beyond all hope of recovery along with those poor shorts. It was probably unimportant at the time compared to what had happened to her still-sore hip and leg, but it had weighed a lot more heavily on her mind on that awful trip home.

Going commando was one thing. Going commando in someone else's pants? She couldn't help but cringe as she made her way to the front of the house. Wasn't being a ninja supposed to be glamorous? Ugh. The things she put up with for this stupid job. If that realization had occurred to Kakashi, he hadn't given any indication. Maybe he was just going to politely burn the pants when she returned them.

She'd already thrown away the bra she'd been wearing, a wasted expense she bitterly regretted. But she just couldn't wear it again now that the matching panties were gone. It would sit in her drawer and bother her every time she saw it.

"You have a bit of chocolate on your lip," Naruto helpfully pointed out.

Ino fluttered her eyelashes in what Aiko was sure was fake surprise. She gave her friend a dirty look from behind Naruto's broad shoulder that Ino completely ignored. "Oh. I don't feel it. Could you help me get it off?"

'Desperate, desperate, I am really desperate,' Aiko silently mocked. 'God Ino, talk about subtle.'

He shrugged and stepped forward to swipe delicately at her lower lip with a finger. He promptly proceeded to stick it in his mouth to lick the sweet off with a grin. "Kay." Ino determinedly maintained eye contact the whole time, mouth slightly parted. Of course, it was subtle enough for Naruto, so the strategy may have been well-chosen. She tricked him into touching her and got him to associate her with candy. But still…

'Ugh, gross.'

It was one thing to think her otouto was adorable. It was something completely different to have to watch Ino try so hard to flirt with him.

"Okay, time to go." She pushed past them and pulled on her newly cleaned open toe boots. They'd be weird with beach wear, but she couldn't force up the effort to care.

"I'll see you guys there, okay?" Naruto called over his shoulder. "I already have my trunks. I'll just meet up with Chouji and help him get the food over."

"Sounds good!" Ino chirped back.

Aiko waited until they were outside to give her friend a little shove. "Seriously, you pervert? Could you wait to molest my brother with your eyes until I'm not in the room? I'm not entirely sure what that was, but I feel dirty now." The shudder she gave wasn't entirely unfeigned.

Ino made a rude sound in return. "Whatever. I was doing no such thing."

That blatant lie aside, the two made a trip to the downtown area where Aiko grabbed literally the first swimsuit she saw- one of the ones that had been on display in the window.

"Holy cow," Ino whimpered. "My mom would kill me if I wore that."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically and shook the green slips of fabric at her friend. "Seriously? It's just a bikini."

Ino gave a nervous laugh. "Are you kidding? I have a one-piece with an attached skirt." She paused. "That reminds me, we're supposed to get the beach towels, sunscreen, and tanning lotion."

Aiko gave her friend a dirty look. "And I assume I'm to pay for all of this?"

"It's not like you can't afford it," Ino said practically. "Oh, by the way. I just got the first edition copy of that first book in the mail. I opened an account for you and a box at the post office instead of sending anything to your house. I can give you the key if you stop by my house on the way home." Then she stuck her tongue out at Aiko, barely managing to suck it back between her teeth before the redhead could make a grab for it. "And no, I'm not a moocher. I brought my wallet too."

"I don't really mind," she admitted. "Just keep your allowance. How many people are we expecting?"

"Ah…" Ino put a finger to her chin. "I think ten total. You and Karin, plus the three groups who graduated in my class."

"That's not so bad," Aiko muttered, carelessly pushing open the door to another boutique and ignoring the jingling bells above head. "Wait, how the hell did anyone get Sasuke to agree to this?"

"Who knows," Ino snorted. "Naruto did it. Maybe they made it into some sort of competition. I don't understand boys. By the way… You really shouldn't have made that joke about them. Temari believed it."

Confused, Aiko turned to look at her friend. "What are you talking about?"

"Temari believes they're a couple." It would have seemed serious if it hadn't been for the smile tugging on Ino's lips. "While she thinks it's totally hot, she's moved on to trying to flirt with some other hunk, I'm sure."

"And you think that's hilarious," Aiko deadpanned before grabbing a pile of oversized beach towels and counting off. "One, two, three…"

"It is," Ino casually interrupted, tugging on another pile. "Don't get those, these are much nicer. Is there a reason you're only grabbing green ones?"

"I don't want to have a ton of mismatched towels," she frowned, neatly piling the less luxurious fabrics back up on the shelf in favor of the ones Ino had pointed out. "Wouldn't that drive you nuts?"

Ino snorted. "God, you're so weird." She made an affectionate kissy face at her friend. "I say that with love."

"You say that because you're eying that nail polish," Aiko shot back. "What's so interesting about it?"

"Kay, you caught me." The little silver charms on Ino's wrist chimed when she reached to pull out a little bottle of slate gray polish. "It's those really cool scented polishes."

Aiko stopped entirely to give her friend a condescending look. "Aren't those for kids?"

"No, you absolute plebian," Ino snarked. "Not the temporary gel things. These are perfumed and they smell when they're dry, not wet." She gave a disappointed frown. "They're so expensive, though."

She took a moment to roll her eyes. Ino was so damn cheap. "Just grab one of every color that you like and we'll try them all out. Maybe one of them will smell good enough to distract me from that nasty coconut suntan lotion Karin smothers herself in."

Ino whapped her with a towel. "She uses the brand I recommended!"

"Then I'll need even more scented polish to distract me from your mutual stench."

The affronted look she received in return for that jibe was pretty glorious.

Ino was already wearing her suit under her skirt and a sleeveless shirt, so Aiko made a hasty wardrobe change in the restroom while Ino went through the check out with her wallet. Ino gave a mocking wolf-whistle as soon as she saw her, puffing her lips out. "Look at you and your naked self!"

She just rolled her eyes at her friend. "Whatever. They wouldn't sell this if it wasn't decent." Still, she pulled a towel out of one of the bags and tied it around her hips. Even with their errands, they weren't the last of the group to meet at the gates. Almost everyone was waiting- Hinata, Karin, Sasuke, Kiba, and Shino had all beat Naruto and Ino's boys out.

Sasuke and Kiba, neither of whom were particularly close to Ino, seemed oddly pleased to see them. Maybe they'd been waiting for a while and thought the girls would be dragging the slackers behind. Ino did usually perform that function, but unfortunately not today. As sad as it was, Naruto was the most punctual out of the three still missing and would probably be the one to urge Chouji and Shikamaru along.

They could be waiting a while. He didn't have much of a sense for urgency and timing.

Ino immediately tossed their bags at a surprised-looking Shino and pulled their papers for approval to leave the village out of her pocket to go talk to the gate guards. Aiko went with her and listened idly. She'd never bothered to get a pass like this before, but it wasn't an unfamiliar concept. They were only going about a mile and a half out of the village, and day trips like this were often approved. They would have to return before the gate guards were switched out for ANBU at night, but other than that their only possible restriction was being ready to return to duty if a messenger was sent for any of them. Chouji and Naruto wandered up with Shikamaru plodding along sullenly behind them, each laden with what looked like a terrifying amount of food. Naruto was cheerily lugging a small cooler, not even having the decency to look strained under the weight of a plastic tub filled with ice and liquids.

Aiko let herself meander to the back of the group as they left, a little more comfortable at a distance. Of course, this group was full of antisocial people like herself, so she ruefully nodded at Shino when he pulled the same trick. At least he didn't try to talk.

The group took the entire walk at a civilian pace and set up on the southern shore about twenty minutes after they'd left. It… wasn't bad. Hinata was the only other girl not slathering herself in the nasty suntan lotion, so they took turns helping each other with sunscreen and immediately laid down to take sun naps while their rowdier peers took the plunge at a run, screaming and splashing each other. Naruto and Sasuke seemed to be very seriously involved in a competition to see who could use jutsu to slap the other with an enormous wave of water. Sasuke won by summoning a surprised looking slug that plopped down and soaked even Ino where she was examining shells in the shallows. Shino plopped down about five feet away from Hinata and immediately pulled out a book.

When she woke up from her nap, drowsy and warm, the first thing Aiko noticed was that the group had moved on to playing in the sand. Kiba was currently being buried in sand. Of course, he was fighting it, which was probably why Sasuke was sitting on his legs and Naruto was using water clones to hold him down and further soak him every time he struggled too violently. Aiko sat up and rolled her eyes fondly, smacking dry lips. Those two were such a nightmare.

"Want a drink?"

At her nod, Chouji tossed her an unopened bottle of grape juice. "Thanks." She uncapped it (grimacing at the scrape of the textured cap against her palm) and took a long pull. "S'good." Hinata blearily sat up, wiping at an eye with her hand and gave a soulful look in the direction of the cooler. Chouji snorted and propped it back open. "Have a preference?"

Hinata had apparently heard of the scented polishes before and was familiar enough to have a preference. She took the soft pink one (scented like candy), so Aiko picked one at random by color (red) and painted her own claws. She only checked the scent when it was dry and was pleasantly surprised by the tea rose scent.

"Better than I expected," she admitted easily to an insufferably smug Ino with grey floral scented nails. It retained the aroma all day, so she kept catching a whiff when she moved her hands around.

'I can't help but think that this would be an excellent aid for setting olfactory genjutsu,' she noted. It actually wasn't uncommon to use nail polish for a spot of color that snagged focus in a similar way for visual genjutsu, so her idea wasn't completely unique. If she had more experience with genjutsu, she might have tried it. As it was, she had easily picked up the visual one Jiraiya gave her, but that one only affected the one sense and she had no training in other types of genjutsu. Shame.

It was amazing that they could waste an entire day doing nothing of value, but it was dark before they had put the last touches on the city made of sand (and then destroyed them all in a mixed jutsu and mock-wrestling fight that reminded Aiko of nothing so much as Godzilla in Tokyo).

Papers stamped and ids checked, the group moved to separate at the gates. Ino made a violent grab for Aiko's arm when she meandered too closely to Naruto, Karin and Hinata.

"Ah, hold on, you're coming to my house remember?"

She had forgotten entirely, actually. By the way Ino rolled her eyes it was obvious, so Aiko didn't even bother lying, just tagged along obediently.

"Don't run in the house!"

Ino grumbled something incoherent at her mother and stopped her dramatic slide across the wooden floor on her slippers, crabbily padding to her bedroom. Aiko cringed imperceptibly at the doorway as she always did. There was just something so offensively disorganized about it. The walls were all painted different shades of purple and covered in mirrors, paper flowers, and a hundred bits of assorted jewelry and beauty products. Ino was like a magpie in human form- if it was pretty, she wanted it.

Despite the way it looked like hellish chaos to Aiko's somewhat minimalist eye, Ino easily located what she'd come for and passed it over. Aiko had to cringe at the cover. "That's not what I drew at all," she grumbled.

Ino gave an apologetic shrug. "They thought the illustrations were too odd, and they re-did them in a more palatable style. If you hate them, you can send back an argument or correction before they print the real edition for sale. But if you send something similar, they're just going to use their artist's stuff."

"Ugh, yuck." Aiko frowned at it. It was garish, with thick lines and overly complicated shading. My Neighbor Totoro just belonged with a subdued spring palette.

'Of course, I do know someone with a more traditional set of artistic sensibilities… Sai could sketch something that would come closer to suiting everyone. And it would provide me with an excuse to spend time with him. That'd please Tsunade…'

That decided, she felt a bit more cheerful. "I'm sorry I made you copy that one out," she apologized as they walked back down the hall. "I guess you were right when you said it wouldn't be a big deal to send off the original copy. You can just pick one off the shelf next time."

"Does that mean I'm your manager?" Ino teased, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, even sandy and disheveled as she was.

Aiko gave a huff of amusement. "Sure, I guess. What's your going rate?"

"Fifty percent of the profits," Ino joked, opening the front door politely.

"Okay."

"Wait, what?" Ino stared dumbly, mouth hanging open. She looked so baffled that Aiko had to stifle a laugh. The blonde scowled. "That's not funny, you jerk."

"I'm not joking. I would never have gotten around to it on my own. Either they won't make anything and so there's no point in being greedy, or there's enough of them to publish that there'll be plenty to go around." Aiko shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"Er." She fiddled nervously with her hair. "Okay, I guess?" Ino asked uncertainly. "I mean, thank you," she corrected.

"Actually, we should each take 45 %," Aiko amended. "So that we can pay an artist. I have someone in mind."

When she got home, Aiko was immediately distracted by the alarming realization that someone had actually managed to start the rice on fire. She tossed the book down and completely forgot about the errands she'd planned to run that night, so the borrowed clothes lay forgotten in her room even after she'd salvaged dinner and crawled under her covers.

The warmth of sunlight on her bare shoulders prodded Aiko awake. She blearily forced one eye open to glare at the stupid window and wish she had pulled the curtain shut before she had gone to bed. That brought the unusual realization that she'd slept an entire night.

"Weird," she muttered, before pulling her arms over her head and stretching out every muscle she could feel. Aiko smacked her lips and collapsed back into the covers for another few minutes. Drowsy as she was, it took a good half hour to pry her body out of bed. "I think someone turned up the gravityyy," she moaned to the ceiling. Resentfully, she pulled a peach sun-dress on over her head and stuffed her feet in the white cat-faced shoes Naruto had sent her so long ago.

Hey, she was off the clock. She didn't have to figure out real clothes.

Aiko turned a white knapsack completely over on her bed and let the assorted papers and little things like chapstick and-were those socks?- fall out. 'I'll take care of it later.' She slipped both copies of the Totoro book in along with her sealing notebook and pulled the bag over her shoulders.

Unsurprisingly, Jiraiya was easier to find than Sai. His distinctive back was hunched over in front of a very familiar fence. Granted, it was one she usually saw from the other side... She politely tapped his shoulder from behind and then backed up when he swiveled to turn and stand. He blinked confusedly for a moment, and then readjusted to look down. "Oh. It's you," he said flatly. "I don't come here to look at teenaged girls, you know."

She gave an apologetic smile. "I don't mean to distract you from your research for long. I just wanted you to look over a modification I wanted to add to that seal we were working on."

He heaved a put-upon sigh and held out one of his massive, meaty paws. "Hand it over, then."

Aiko flipped the notebook to the right page, smoothed the paper down, and let him tug it out of her grip. The older man kept a poker face as he looked over what was there, mind clearly preoccupied- and then he tilted his head down and gave her a dry look. "That's just mean, girlie."

His voice didn't actually sound disapproving, so she just shrugged. "I don't like the idea of letting anyone get an extended look at my seal," she demurred innocently.

The rude snort almost made her jump. "I don't think that's going to be a big problem. Still… I wouldn't bother with it, but this should work just fine. You're a paranoid little bastard, aren't you?"

"It has other uses," she weakly argued, feeling a flush steal over her cheeks. "Like-"

"Blowing people up?" At her sheepish look, Jiraiya ruffled her hair. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know. I can tell that this seal is weaponized. The only thing I'd have to say is that you should watch the thickness of this line here," he indicated. "Otherwise, this is solid work."

The notebook nearly hit her in the nose when he tossed it back at her. She caught it just in time, cringing at the way the pages rustled and bent.

"Now go away or be quiet. I have research to do." Jiraiya blushed, a silly grin flooding across his features and wrinkling lines all the way up to his eyes. "Heh heh heh…"

Aiko chose both- she quietly wandered away, hands fiddling with the straps at her shoulders and looking at the dirt she was kicking up.

'How on earth am I going to find Sai? What does he even do, besides missions? He probably doesn't spent a lot of time outside wherever he lives or training.'

Well. The first step would be to ascertain whether or not he was working, wouldn't it? It would be so wasteful to spend all day checking unlikely locations if he was out of the village.

'This would be easier if I could go talk to Tsunade herself,' Aiko pouted. Still… she did know an intermediary.

It was probably a good thing that it was Sunday, then. Now that she finally had a destination in mind, Aiko cut across the outskirts of town to a place she'd never actually ventured inside. At the little red gate that partitioned off the Uchiha district, she paused uncomfortably for a minute. It didn't seem right to just walk in. But Sasuke wouldn't mind, would he?

'Plus I don't even know where his house is.'

She face-palmed.

'It'll be the one in the best state of repair, probably. Duh, the other houses have been unoccupied for a decade.'

Walking through the district didn't help her find any obvious candidates. Sasuke either worked his ass off with solid clones to keep the place neat or paid a fortune in D-class missions. The grass was neatly kept, not a roof-tile out of place on a single traditionally styled home, and the stone-paved paths were in immaculate condition and so clean that she almost considered taking off her shoes.

"Oh my god, these gardens must cost a fortune to maintain," she mumbled, kneeling to peer into a reflecting pool. An orange koi liberally splotched with black mouthed at her hand on the other side of the glass-clear water, sending little ripples across the surface.

"That's a rather rude comment to make," Sasuke pointed out, coming to stand by her side.

Aiko flushed. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry, I was just thinking aloud."

"You do that sometimes." She stood, brushing lightly against his side. Just because she could, she tilted her head to lean against his shoulder.

"Eh. I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

She could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "You are the worst guest. You're supposed to let me offer tea and glare at each other over it for half an hour while we silently decide how best to outmaneuver the other before you even hint at a weakness like that. How am I supposed to exploit it and tear at your soft rhetorical underbelly with so little time to plan?"

Aiko tilted her head slightly to give him a skeptical look, so close she could see the little irregularities in his dark eyes that showed differentiation between the actual black pupils and the surrounding coloration. "You've been spending too much time with Tsunade."

"I learned that from my mother, actually," he added dryly.

Awkward.

"Oh." Mildly chastened, she dropped her head to nose into his shoulder instead of replying. He squirmed away.

"Your nose is cold."

It was amazing just how much disapproval that boy could put into such an inane statement.

Aiko rolled her eyes and retreated. "I know, I was pirating your body heat. Anyway…" She gave him a wary look. "Don't act like I'm crazy, but I need to get a hold of Sai."

Sasuke maintained a poker face, but 'what the hell are you thinking' couldn't have been more plainly expressed if he'd said it aloud.

Helplessly, she shrugged. "It's a long story."

The sigh that followed was impressively grumpy for a voiceless exhalation. "I'll find out where you can meet him and get back to you on that tomorrow."

Of course, as it turned out he was wrong. He may well have found out how she could contact Sai, but it didn't do her any good because she had new orders the hour after her medical restriction expired.

'I almost wish I'd spent longer on restricted duty,' Aiko sighed lightly so as not to heat up her mask more than she had to.

The day after she was cleared for full duty, she had been ordered to report for a rotation in Konoha's prison facility. It was depressing, frankly. For once she was actually uninterested in learning more about her job. The minutia of policies for securing and containment procedures were mind numbingly dull whenever they weren't horrifying. She had been forced to bring poor Mitsuo in to help sniff incoming and departing staff for contraband. It was a surprising level of paranoia—not only were prisoners examined daily, but every member of staff was searched every day physically and by whatever methods the available squad was capable of. Aiko had the unfortunate distinction of being the only member of her team with a specialized technique or ability that could be useful in that capacity.

"Sorry, sorry," she soothed her ninken as soon as they were alone, dropping to her knees to wrap her arms around his thick neck. "Poor love, I bet it smells awful in here."

Mitsuo gave a sad whuff and a soft, low bark that she recognized as confirmation.

He padded silently along her side, returning to her team. She'd been called away to do screening, but they were normally posted along cell block intervals to maintain order, especially during times prisoners were moved.

She'd never known Konoha kept so many prisoners. Traitors, spies, dissidents, and foreign prisoners (some of whom who had been long forgotten by their countries of origin) all uneasily broke bread together in an underground facility.

The prison was a legacy of Konoha's half-assed humanist ideology: they didn't often execute prisoners. This wasn't entirely out of kindness. Prisoners could find use years down the line, like be wrung for more information, provide learning dummies for medic nin, or possibly even be traded back to their countries of origin. It cost Konoha almost nothing to maintain the facilities and it was no hardship to feed them in the land of eternal summer.

Regardless of whatever practical value keeping prisoners had, the partial motivation to keep their own hands clean by not just killing them like everyone else seemed to appeared self-serving and unethical to her. What kindness was it really, to keep war prisoners from thirty years ago interred? There were white-haired shinobi in the prison. If they were never going to free them, it seemed crueler to keep them around and let them suffer than it would be to just end it as painlessly as possible.

That was the final containment procedure anyway- as Fish had explained, in case of a break-in or break-out, all potentially dangerous prisoners were to be eliminated. It was a nice euphemism that meant they would be going down the halls and slaughtering prisoners cowering at the back of their cells, many of whom had not held a weapon in over half their lives.

"So much better than a pill or a knife to the spinal column," Aiko muttered with all the contempt she could muster.

But she wasn't being paid to think. She was being paid to stand around and hopefully convince prisoners not to make an attempt by reminding them what would happen if they did.

It was a pretty miserable experience, made all the more so because she couldn't leave. Part of the requirement of this assignment was staying in the facility for the duration. They were on-call 24/7, which meant that she had the dubious pleasure of sleeping in her ANBU gear in a room with her team and only changing in the bathroom alone when she had her twenty minute liberty. Her inconsiderate team didn't always bother with that. The first time she'd walked in to see Donkey with his pants around his ankles and a clean pair in his hands, she'd turned right back around. Unfortunately, she'd seen a lot more skinny man legs and muscled torsos over the shift that she would have liked. ...And also knew more about how dismal they were at changing their underpants. It's not supposed to be optional, people. Pack better.

As odd as it seemed to her, the assignment lasted the apparently arbitrary period of 23 days. When it was over, she reluctantly struggled back home only to find Naruto was pouty about being abandoned without so much as a word.

Aiko genuinely didn't understand what he was upset about. He had to understand that she couldn't talk about her work. All of her peers had been given a chance to see her ANBU tattoos at the lake- did he not know what they represented?

'Actually, that wouldn't surprise me,' she realized dully. Naruto was a bit clueless, and no one had commented.

It would have been in very bad form to do so, if any of them had recognized the symbols. Most of their age group were clan-affiliated and would know well enough to keep their mouths shut.

ANBU wouldn't tattoo their members if mere membership was actually restricted information. No one would be stupid enough to choose such a policy.

'Except the Dark Lord,' she mentally excused. 'Voldemort would so totally do that.'

But Konoha didn't have anyone with cajones as large and illogical as the Dark Lord's, so the real restricted information was the actual content of ANBU training and work. She settled on a rhetorical strategy and plan for mitigating the problem in future.

"I'm doing work for Tsunade that I can't talk about," she'd excused. It wasn't really a lie, after all. Just not the whole truth. Naruto made an 'ohhhh' face of comprehension. "Keep it quiet, please." Her brother easily agreed. "And…" Here she hesitated. "I think I'm going to move out into an apartment of my own so I'm not coming and going from a shared house without telling anyone what's going on."

If she wasn't sharing a house, she would hardly have to make explanations of her whereabouts and weariness. At some point, she was going to come home more than a little battered and didn't much fancy having to hide it from any inquisitive housemates she couldn't tell a damn thing about what was going on.

Aiko had considered making Naruto her confidant to a limited amount of her ANBU activities: if she did, she would hardly have to lie to him and sneak around. But the idea was unpalatable, despite the appeal of having Naruto on her side. It would mean exposing him to things he didn't need to know. ANBU was depressing, brutal, and difficult. Why make him worry?

"I'm not planning on abandoning you. I just… I want the freedom of my own place, you know? You got to leave Konoha for two years, and I've been mostly stuck here with two roommates I didn't pick." She shrugged wryly.

Naruto frowned slightly, examining her face. "Is that really what this is about?"

'Perceptive little bastard,' Aiko thought fondly.

"There's more, but not that I can talk about," she added honestly. Lying to Naruto never worked. He'd just make himself insufferable and sneak around until he thought he had it figured out. He wasn't often right, but she didn't want him poking around this time.

"You're so antisocial and weird," Naruto grumped, stepping in to bend his head to clunk his forehead against hers. "I guess this shouldn't be that surprising. You have to start coming to all the team practices you can, then."

"Uh, I guess I could, but I'm not really on your team assignment right now," she pointed out cautiously. Naruto and Sasuke had been placed back under Kakashi, but her reassignment looked to be pretty solid. They were probably stuck with Yamato.

"Doesn't matter, you're still one of our team. S'not like Kakashi'll care," he shrugged irreverently. Aiko lightly punched his chest, playfully instead of with any actual intent to turn the move into wrestling or sparring.

"Stop talking like that, you know it drives me nuts," she groused, reverting to English. He merely stuck his tongue out at her. With their faces so close together, that meant it barely missed her nose. "Ew, when did you get so gross?"

"I've always been gross, but you're stuck with me," he bantered easily, leaning his head back to butt gently against her forehead. He was rather like a cat, nudging for a petting session. "So, what day of the week is team dinner, when I am invited over for sleepovers, and what day will you be coming over here to make dinner? I'd offer to host you, but you don't want to eat my cooking."

Aiko snorted. "It's far past when you should have learned to cook. And what are you talking about, you've always helped me out. I'm not your damn maid. I guess I'll come over whatever Saturdays I'm free to bully you into proving to me you can cook the other six days of the week."

"It's settled, then." Naruto furrowed his brow. "How the hell are we going to get Kakashi to show up for team dinner?"

"Fuck if I know," she giggled. He did what he wanted.

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 51

“What does it say, Hadley?” Nyota asked. The sound of Arjun’s tinkering faded in the background as she returned to the main part of the ship.

Hadley tapped the page and turned so Nyota could read it too. “It’s bad news. This is from Danni. He’s the only one besides Ma who bothers to write, but he didn’t even take the time to code this. Must’ve been in a rush… Or figured I’d be. Seen some odd apex around a few real bastards’ camps. There’s talk of new jobs too, folks bothering the really nasty bandit clans. Even the Ex-USCM ones, and no one likes that bunch.”

Nyota took the paper from her hand. Danni’s handwriting was clear and precise with the effort of someone who has a naturally spidery hand and is trying to alleviate it. It read exactly as Hadley described: unknown, unfamiliar apex seen talking to particularly dangerous criminals, and talk of hiring these criminals. Nyota’s eyes narrowed and she handed the page back to Hadley. “I see. And what is your take on this?”

“My what?” Hadley scratched the back of her neck, accidentally tilting her helmet over her eyes. She grumbled as she righted it. “I mean… We don’t know what’s up, he couldn’t get close enough to any of this to hear it, but it’s not pretty. You don’t think those rebels would pull something like this, do you?”

“I don’t,” Nyota said slowly, “but I need to get word of this to Lana.” She shook her head. “I see two potential causes. Either someone in the rebellion is going behind her back and making a connection they will all regret, or the Miniknog is repeating the past.”

Hadley gave Nyota a very long dry look. “You keep being mysterious about this. What are you talking about? Did the Miniknog have something to do with bandits before or something? Except these are human bandits, so—”

“I told you how I helped bring the USCM’s downfall,” Nyota cut in, and Hadley fell silent. Waiting. She kept talking. “It was a ploy, of sorts. The Miniknog offered them partnership. They wanted access to our biological research. They used it to make weapons.” Her eyes darkened. “We did not teach them how to control it.”

Realization formed in Hadley’s face and vanished under understanding and fear.

“So you know the whole story now,” Nyota said. Her voice was far softer than her eyes. Her eyes were cold as steel now, hollow: the Agent’s eyes, not the Captain’s. But her voice was always Nyota. “I know the rumors say they collapsed under their own weight and greed. Maybe they still would have. But we sped it along.”

“Geez,” Hadley muttered. “I mean, none of us are sad they’re gone, but geez.”

Nyota sighed, nodded, and ran a hand through her mane. “No one ever deserves to be destroyed by the Miniknog,” she said quietly. “But what’s done is done. Please pass my thanks along to your brother. This is good information.”

“Anytime,” Hadley said. She was too rattled to be jaunty about it.

Nyota smiled and put a hand on Hadley’s shoulder. The sound of a hard-working mechanic faded back into her awareness. “You’d better go make sure Arjun leaves enough of your mech intact for you,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

*

Nyota’s heart caught in her throat as she sent the message. So carefully encrypted, so carefully hidden, so she hoped. She knew better than anyone how dangerous it could be if this were to go awry. At least, that was the reason she gave herself for being so nervous. She knew, at heart, her chosen method for contact was as safe as any these days. She tried to focus on anything but that. Nothing quite made the butterflies go away.

The reply came faster than expected. Just an hour in, a chime and a green light from her monitor. Nyota got up from her makeshift desk and set off for the Ark. Lumen caught her eye and gave her a cheery wave, flickering in as close as he got to a wink.

“It’s business,” she told him sternly.

“Don’t mean ya can’t have a lil’ fun,” he replied.

Nyota shook her head and did not try too hard to swallow her pride as her feet crossed from Outpost metal to carved Ark stone. The warm gold lights soothed her as they shone down from the ancient pillars, like tiny suns without the potential to burn. Nyota leaned against a pillar and closed her eyes for a long moment to savor the warmth. It made the white spark in her chest flutter and swell, without shoving at her for once. This place had felt so alien when she first set foot out here, months ago, fresh from the ruins of Earth. Now, it felt like home.

She had the presence of mind to set down a few small proximity sensor alarms before settling in against the pillar and getting comfortable again.