#they are bleeding us dry before the end of the year hah

[yridenergyridenergy]

*sukekiyo releasing something new* me looking at my bankaccount, "saa shjiitt here we go again"

No kidding...

August - Fetish album by Petit Brabancon

September - The Final Days DVD by Dir en grey

October - AMOR music+video collection by sukekiyo

And shipping increased exponentially so it makes almost no sense to pay $100+ for shipping three months in a row...

[seasonofthegeek]

Drift Away, Part 3

Parts 1, 2, 3:

“It true you can walk in the sun?” Bakugo asked, looking past the prone vampire to the heavy curtains covering the far window.

“Yeah, but I have to work at it. It’s not something that comes easy,” Kirishima answered after a hesitant pause.

Bakugo simply hummed in response, seemingly lost in thought.

“What can you do?”

“Anything I fuckin’ want.”

Kirishima grinned and shook his head, dry hair rustling against the pillow. “I mean power-wise, man. I know how Ver is.” He frowned. “Was, I guess. You must have something cool you can do.”

Ignoring his question, Bakugo studied him. “How does it make you feel knowing that I killed the woman who made us like this?”

“You want to know if I’m mad?”

“I want to know what you think about it.” He watched emotions flit across the other vampire’s face. Kirishima was an open book if he wasn’t trying to be careful. Bakugo had realized his blank face for hiding how he was really feeling was a huge smile, but he was still having trouble determining what smiles were real and which ones weren’t.

“I’m not sure how I feel,” Kirishima admitted with a sheepish smile. “I loved her, and I hated her. She was the first person to make me feel important, but she was just so… I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

“She left you to decay in the shithole forever. Doesn’t seem too complicated to me,” Bakugo replied gruffly.

“Guess I know how you felt about her then.”

Bakugo stood and turned away from the other man as he began to ready his bag for going out to grab them another human for dinner. “She made me even stronger than I was before, so I guess I’m thankful for that. Doesn’t go much beyond that though. She was a selfish, hateful bitch.”

“Do you ever regret it?” Kirishima’s voice was soft, quiet. “Killing her?”

“No.” There was no hesitance in Bakugo’s answer. “Regret everyone else though. Never wanted them to die. They were her victims just like us.” He looked down at his palm and brought forth tiny popping explosions for comfort. “Still not sure how I survived it.”

“I’m still wondering if I did or if this is some kind of purgatory.” The sickly vampire grunted as he tried to push himself up on his elbows. His shoulders shook for the brief moment he was upright and then he fell back to the bed with an agitated huff.

“Just rest, idiot. I’m going out for dinner. I’ll bring someone back.”

“Hey, Bakugo?”

“What?” He finally turned back to Kirishima to see him covering his face with one arm.

“Can you try to keep me from killing this one? It really makes me feel bad.”

Something about his request made warmth spread through Bakugo’s chest and he covered it with a sneer. “You’re an awful vampire, you know that?”

Kirishima laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Yeah, that’s what she used to tell me too.” _____

“How old are you? I know you aren’t older than me. You act like you’re in charge, but I think you’re a baby vamp.”

Bakugo glared at Kirishima from across the room. “What do you know, idiot? You’ve been little more than a shitty skeleton for the last few hundred years.”

The other vampire grinned and shifted so he could find a more comfortable sitting position on the bed. “You’re young, aren’t you? I doubt you’ve been a vampire more than a decade even.” He tilted his head as if he was listening for something. “That’s what it feels like anyway.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of. We were all young once.”

Bakugo growled under his breath and stood, unceremoniously tossing the book he was reading on the table. “I’m going hunting.”

“I want to come.” Kirishima grunted as he tried to get his legs to cooperate while he forced them over the side of the bed.

“You’ll just slow me down.”

“I need to move around or I’m going to stay stiff.”

“Then walk around the cottage.”

“But I don’t want to,” Kirishima whined. “I wanna go outside.” He attempted to stand, but his legs buckled immediately, leaving him to slide off the edge of the bed with a surprised yelp.

Bakugo shifted his weight, trying to keep himself from immediately rushing over to Kirishima’s side to prove his point. “See? You’re too weak to go out.”

“Come on. I won’t get in your way. And if I can feed on the spot, you won’t have to carry anyone back here. That’ll be easier, right?”

“No. Stay here.” He went to the door and didn’t look back even when he heard the other man calling his name. _____

Kirishima watched Bakugo hammer the last nail into place, successfully covering the hole in the cottage roof so that sunlight couldn’t filter in during the day any longer.

“Wood is old as hell,” he muttered, climbing off the makeshift platform he’d created from a chair on the table. “Cracked some of the boards with the nails but hopefully it’ll hold ‘til we get out of here.”

“And you take me to the council,” Kirishima supplied.

Bakugo only grunted in reply as he moved things back into place.

“I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“Hah?”

“I don’t think I’ll go to the council.” Kirishima shrugged and made a show of stretching his legs the length of the bed, the tips of his toes pointing outward. “Ver never wanted me to be around any of them; that’s why she left me here, I guess. Seems silly to let you just take me to them now.”

“You’re going,” Bakugo growled.

“You can’t make me.”

“Wanna bet, you shitty old vamp?” He held open his palm and small explosive pops flashed above it.

Kirishima watched his act, eyes widening in awe. “That’s really neat.”

“It’s not neat! It’s deadly!”

“Well, sure.” His expression went thoughtful. “Is that how you killed Ver?”

“Why do you call that bitch that?”

“What?”

“Ver.”

Kirishima frowned in confusion. “That’s her name.”

“She’s The Countess.” Disgust colored his words. “That’s the only name she ever gave. Even the council calls her that.”

“She always had me call her Ver. I know she used The Countess too, though.” Kirishima stretched his upper body and Bakugo caught sight of the hand he usually kept hidden under the blankets. Though the skin was still darker in color, it was much less shriveled than before and there was the hint of movement in the fingers. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

“What question?”

“Did you use your fire hand to kill her?”

“Don’t call it fucking ‘fire hand’. That sounds ridiculous.” Bakugo glared at him. “It’s just my power. And no, I didn’t use it on her. I couldn’t.”

“She bound your power.” Kirishima nodded wisely. “She did that to me. It sucks.”

“Yeah, well, no one else knows about that so shut up. I caught her at a weak moment and drained her dry.”

“Oh.” He blinked in surprise. “I guess that explains how you survived then.”

Bakugo gave him a steady look. “What do ya mean?”

“She was invincible to most attacks.”

“Yeah, no shit. We’re vampires.”

Kirishima shook his head. “No, I mean, she was really invincible. Vampires can be killed. It’s hard to kill us, but it can be done, so we’re immortal, not invincible. If you drained enough of her blood, some of that power must’ve transferred to you long enough for you to be able to kill her.”

“How is that any different from bleeding any other vampire dry?”

“You survived killing your sire. I don’t think you could’ve done that if you didn’t have a least a little of the invincibility in your system.” He picked at a loose thread on the old blanket in his lap. “None of her other children survived, did they?” His voice was soft and though he’d phrased it as a question, it was more of a statement.

“Only you,” Bakugo finally sighed. “I checked on the ones I knew about. I hoped if I was still alive that maybe…” He ground his teeth together. “I thought it would kill me too. I didn’t expect…”

“You said she was having a weak moment. What had happened?”

The emotional toll of the conversation weighed on Bakugo and he wanted to change the topic but had a feeling that the older vampire wouldn’t allow it. Something about his attitude during their talk had him feeling uneasy.

“You know of Yaoyoruzo?”

Kirishima’s face lit up. “Momo? Is she still well?”

“Uh, yeah. She’s fine. But The Countess was always jealous of her creation power.”

“Yeah, she hated her,” Kirishima agreed. “Wait, she didn’t try to fight Momo, did she? That would’ve been disastrous.”

Bakugo couldn’t stop the chuckle that forced its way out of his throat. “Ah, no. She’d have lost in a heartbeat.”

“Definitely.”

“She did find a human with a creation power though. Wasn’t nearly as good as Yaoyorozu’s but she thought it’d be a start. Turned this little girl and immediately took her power, then beheaded her and started trying to create stuff.”

Realization dawned on Kirishima’s face. “And she was weak from that.”

Bakugo nodded. “I was supposed to be guarding her but…”

“You did what you had to do.”

“That’s it? I did what I had to do?” Bakugo asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Kirishima tilted his head, studying him. “You’re brave. I could never bring myself to hurt her. I admire you.”

“Fuck off.”

“What? I do!”

“Whatever.” Bakugo paced to the other end of the cottage and stared out the window. The sky was still dark, but he could feel the soon-coming morning chill in his bones. There would be no leaving the safety of the cottage now.

“I don’t think you’ll take me to the council,” Kirishima said confidently. “I think you’ve got too much good in you to hand me over.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I think I’m right about you.” _____

“Going out. Be back before the sun’s up,” Bakugo grumbled as he did his ritualistic check on the windows before going to the door.

“You sure I can’t convince you to let me come? I can probably walk most of the way.” Kirishima gave him his brightest smile that didn’t dim from the glare he got in reply.

“Stop fucking asking. You’re staying here.” He turned the doorknob, grumbling under his breath. “Can’t even make it across the damn house on your own.”

“Be safe!” The other vampire called cheerfully. He concentrated on his supernatural senses, following Bakugo’s essence further from the cottage until he was too far away for his mind to keep track of.

With a groan, Kirishima stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck. He scratched at his stomach as he moved across the cottage to open the door. He breathed in the refreshing night air still tinged with rain and stepped out into without another thought.

Bakugo hadn’t hunted for them in two days because of a heavy storm and it had taken every bit of willpower Kirishima had not to give away that he no longer needed the young fledgling to take care of him. He rounded the cabin at a light jog and within second was sprinting head on into the thick of trees. Branches whipped around him as he raced by, scratching and tearing at his hair and clothes and skin but he couldn’t care less because he felt free.

Finally, free.

He ran until the faint aroma of human blood caught his attention and he stopped, finding himself on the edge of a town.

It would be easy to keep going now.

He’d only meant to leave the cottage for a few minutes, to get a taste of the night and then go back to his bed before Bakugo returned but…

But he could just keep running.

He could run and run and run and no one would ever find him. Anyone who could recognize him was long dead most likely. Ver rarely left witnesses when it came to her prized possessions and he knew he’d been her best.

He could escape into the new world and never look back. He could start fresh.

The thought was tempting. So tempting.

But then there was Bakugo.

By vampire standards, they were the only family they had left. Although with him being so newly turned, it was quite possible he still had human family alive. Unless Ver gave them the same treatment she’d given Kirishima’s family.

He shuddered at the memory even if the pain was only a dull ache he had to search for after all this time.

With a sigh, he turned back in the direction of the cottage. His pace was much slower, barely more than a jog. His feet felt heavier the closer he got, and he found himself almost returning to the town he’d seen before when it hit him.

Bakugo’s scent was faint but getting stronger as it mingled with freshly spilled human blood. It spurred Kirishima to hurry into the cottage and throw himself into the bed, pulling the blankets up around him to mask his venture outdoors.

He leaned against the headboard and ran a hand through his hair, wincing as the healing skin pulled tight with the movement. The door slammed open and Kirishima schooled a pleased, expectant look on his face. “That was quick.”

“Yeah, well, this dumbass was camping by himself not too far from here.” Bakugo dropped the unconscious man on Kirishima’s legs. “Feed while I get cleaned up.”

The man groaned softly and Kirishima’s nose wrinkled up. “Hey, uh, Bakugo?”

“What?” he snapped, not turning away from the sink basin where he was washing his hands.

“I was thinking while you were gone, and I might have an idea that will help me heal a little faster. Like a lot faster really.”

The other vampire turned to face him slowly with a hard glare. “And you’re just now deciding to say something, moron?”

Kirishima flashed him the sheepish smile that he’d often used as protection from their sire. “Sorry. I guess my mind has been a bit foggy with the lack of blood and all.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the sink. “Tell me your idea, bloodbrain.”

Turning his smile from sheepish to slightly hopeful, Kirishima tried his best to look as non-threatening as possible. “You could let me feed from you.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

[angst-fairygodmother]

Who Wants To Live Forever (The Witcher, a Highlander AU)

A/N: A warning was given. No assassins were sent. I wrote The Sad. Summary: Jaskier is not immortal, but rather is An Immortal. What better way to keep your head than to hook up with a witcher and pretend to be helpless? But time marches onward. And all things must end. Content Warning: Major Character Death, implications of suicidal thoughts Word Count: 1628 Cross-posted to AO3: here 

He would be needing a new name soon. “Jaskier” had gotten a little too popular and started bringing the wrong kind of attention. In the last town, while Geralt was off fighting a particularly vicious vampire who had been plaguing the region, a hunt that he said was too dangerous for Jaskier to tag along on, he had encountered another of his kind.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jaskier offered. “I just want to be on my way, entertaining the masses. I don’t care about the Game.”

“Well I do,” the other man sneered. “If you don’t want to fight, just stand still and let me have your head.”

“I said I didn’t care for it, not that I was willing to surrender and die.” His sword came out in a flash from where it lay, hidden, along the back of his lute case.

He held it before him, waving slightly, taunting the other swordsman. The man was larger than Jaskier, with a massive two-handed broadsword, clearly the sort to rely on brute strength over actual skill or talent.

“Last chance, don’t make me do this.” Jaskier’s eyes were stormy and the warning firm, dropping all the cheer of his normal tone of voice.

“Hah! You can’t possibly think you’ll win!” The man lunged, a move Jaskier was easily able to sidestep, graceful as a dancer compared to the lumbering fool.

“Okay, so we’re doing this.”

The fight was over even faster than Jaskier had predicted, the other man bleeding and on his knees, sword in the dirt far from him and Jaskier’s blade pressed to his throat.

“Promise me you will leave, never trouble me again, and you can still walk away from this,” he offered, pacing in a circle, never taking his eyes off his enemy.

The other man spit at his feet. “Just kill me already. You know how this goes, know the rule.”

“I do.” The bard sighed, raising his sword back and swinging it down viciously. “There can be only one.”

The storm rolled in from nowhere, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He quickly set about tucking his lute and doublet into a safe spot, sheltered from what was to come by a trough, upturned and placed on the distant edge of the open field.

The first strike of lightning drove him to his knees with a scream. It was unsurprising that the man, with all of his self-assuredness and aggression, was a powerful player. Still, that meant this part, never his favorite experience, would particularly suck today. He could only hope he recovered and made it back to the inn to change out of bloodstained clothes before Geralt noticed. Someday, he might tell the witcher the truth, but it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have now.

~

It was funny, he thought, how easy time escaped you when you knew that you had centuries. He hadn’t considered that when he’d attached himself to Geralt, all the way back in Posada, those witchers live an extraordinarily long time if they’re not killed by the creatures they hunt. And Destiny had been kind. The pair had managed to keep each other alive for so very long. Yennefer was of course, a sorceress, and the closest thing to truly immortal besides his own kind that he knew of. The one time she seemed to have died, it failed to hold her. Even when they added Ciri to their little family, she was a child with something magical about her, and seemed just as determined to outlive the average human, by will alone if she had to.

But he knew all too well that, whether it be a ballad or an adventure or a life, all things must end. Even love could only keep something for so long, and a life was not a flower, to be pressed between pages and held close with care until it was preserved for eternity.

If he had been able to keep them, it wouldn’t have been fair. The world had moved on. It was tame now, and quiet, with no need of monster hunters and mages in the wake of science and settlement. Geralt had seen it long before him, proclaiming that the world had no place for witchers anymore, and Jaskier had denied it, fleeing from the idea as if it was the worst monster they’d ever faced.

The four of them had stopped their adventuring near Oxenfurt. Jaskier had taken up teaching full time, Geralt guest-lectured when he wasn’t busy running the orphanage he’d founded. Even Yennefer occasionally deigned for a class or two, and then got bored of it and went back to her usual…whatever. Ciri was the least settled, serving as a diplomat and travelling the world still, only coming home on occasion to visit.

He never did tell any of them about his particular affliction. It wasn’t that he’d intentionally deceived them, but with their own longevity it never seemed relevant. Ciri was the only one who ever questioned it, once late at night while they both sat up with a cup of tea. He had shrugged and told her that he was nothing special, just very long lived. Which hadn’t technically been a lie, there were in fact a number of his kind (he didn’t know exactly how many but he’d wondered more than once), and her suspicious glare told him that he hadn’t completely fooled her, but she had dropped it anyway. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t admit everything, but after so long of avoiding it, it had come as a reflex to deflect.

~

The occasional challenger came for his head, and always he offered them the chance to walk away. He had no interest in power or being the last man standing. He just wanted all the time he could to read and wonder and learn, to love the world and love the three people he called home.

“Come back in a century,” he would say, “come back when they’ve left me. Maybe then I will give you my head; I will have no more need of it once I’ve lost my heart.”

When they refused, he would lead them away from the city, dispatch them quickly. He was not one to toy with his competitors, or even to take their heads if he could prevent it. A last offer of mercy, a feigned distraction to let them escape, a dive into the sea to end things a bit early.

~

Losing Yennefer had been…confusing. She had been caught up in some sort of magical accident at Aratuza that had left the magical school a crater of ash and smoke and death. At first, none of them believed that she was truly gone. After all, she had survived a fatal event before. But as weeks, and then months passed, they began to accept it. Geralt openly wept; Ciri returned early from her latest assignment, heartbroken and hollow, and tried to be strong for her adoptive father. And Jaskier carried on, the stability they sought as their world turned upside down.

Geralt had the unique honor of being the only witcher in all of history to die of natural causes, fading away in bed, a peaceful sleeping death. At the funeral, Jaskier had laughed about how he would have hated the distinction. They buried him beside Yennefer’s empty grave, and every three weeks they refreshed the wreaths of lilacs and forget-me-nots against the headstones.

It was just Jaskier and Ciri for a long time after that. He occasionally nudged her toward other people, suggesting that romantic connection and a family and all of that typical stuff might be more enjoyable than spending the rest of her days a spinster with her dear uncle. Secretly, it was because he was afraid. He didn’t know if he could handle losing her too, and if he saw her happily settled with someone who wasn’t him, he could disappear into the night, reinvent again, and not have to face the reality that such a day would come. It might hurt, but not as much as watching her die.

She refused. It had led to a horrific fight once, and they didn’t speak for months. He thought to leave then, but couldn’t bring himself to let their end be angry. So instead he had watched the Last Rose of Cintra blossom and grow, and eventually wilt, as all things did. By that time, the world was nothing like her youth, and a part of her had decided that it was time to move on from it, that it wasn’t meant for her anymore.

“But what about you, Jaskier?” she asked, lips dry and voice rasping. “You never aged, and will be the last of us. What will you do?”

“I am a bard above all else, and consummately able to adapt. I’ll carry on, and carry all of you with me.”

The night he buried the princess beside her parents, he used his savings to buy a boat, too small a craft to be called a ship, something he could pilot alone. The world was changing, and he needed time. A few years adrift to come to terms with who he should become, with everything that had gone.

He looked at the map and set his sails toward a little, distant point on it, marked now with his own flowing script as well as the cartographer’s.

“Here there [might still] be monsters.”

One could only hope. Otherwise, he might come back around and just let one of those pernicious little upstarts with only decades under their belt have him. Let pride be damned and it be said that only the witcher kept him alive all those years.

[ahkaraii]

Rarepair generator: Zabuza & Kisame (1600 words)

Kisame is the first to sniff him out among the mountain of corpses that litter the ruins of the Academy. It’s easy because, the closer he gets, the thicker the miasma of killing intent becomes. Like a cornered dog kicked too many times, the class-killer growls low in warning, black eyes wide and bloodshot.

A total runt, Kisame thinks disappointedly.

“Congratulations,” Kisame says instead, and drops a freshly pressed towel and a water bottle at the feet of the boy in question. “You are now officially the youngest ninja of the Hidden Village of the Mist.” He looks around gamely. “Seems like you’ll stay that way for a while, too, seeing as you killed all the competition.”

The kid is stiff and silent but clearly hungry. He scrabbles over for the water bottle and drowns it in a rush, his thin neck pulsating with every swallow.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Kisame asks.

“Don’t have one,” the kid rasps, revealing filed teeth. A bastard of some Hozuki, most likely.

“An orphan, huh...” Kisame looks at that emaciated body and does some quick mental math. “You’re not even an academy student, are you?”

The kid has the audacity to flash him a sneering grin. “Now, no one is.”

“Hm,” Kisame says. "We might have a problem.”

--

They have a problem.

They’re at war with half the elemental countries and already bleeding soldiers faster than they can breed them, and now a whole generation of up-and-comings have been eliminated by an insolent upstart with no family to take the fall for it all. The Mizukage is, understandably, pissed the fuck off.

But maybe it’s a sign the runt’s gonna be destined for great things ‘cause he’s the reason the Mizukage finally does away with the Hidden Mist’s infamous graduation exam. Kisame’s not particularly glad of it -- he killed his classmates and came out all the stronger for it, in his opinion -- but he’s smart enough not to question it.

Then, shockingly, after ten years of ceaselessly hunting down those with a bloodline limit due to a failed coup composed of the very same, the Mizukage relents and orders that no further harm may come to them. Indeed, they are encouraged to reveal themselves and join the war effort. 

Terumi Mei-san’s ecstatic, of course, until the next order comes down the pipeline: all women of child-bearing age are to produce a child for the good of the country, effective immediately. She fucking hates it, but she loves her country more, so she asks Kisame if he’d do her the honour and he shrugs and says sure. They’ve had sex before and it was good so what if now it’s under orders?

(In the end, it’s a rotten way to find out she’s infertile.)

--

In retrospect, the runt’s probably spared for the same reasons. They can no longer afford to mindlessly kill their own, not with the rest of the world doing it for them. The Mizukage has Kisame interrogate him just long enough to beat the truth out of him: how had he done it?

“It was easy,” the boy had said, spitting blood. “I just convinced them all to kill each other.”

The kid’s got guts, if nothing else.

--

The Mizukage gifts him to Biwa Juuzo-san, after. To break, to eat, or to raise, it’s his call. Poor bastard.

--

The next time Kisame meets the kid, he’s been given the name Zabu, which, according to Juuzo’s hodgepodge kanji, appears to mean Failure. Despite the moniker, however, Juuzo seems to like the kid. Perhaps a bit too much, Kisame thinks, but he keeps that to himself.

“Well, if it’s isn’t Mr. Waterbottle,” the runt says, flashing a mouthful of teeth. “I never caught your name, big guy.”

“Hoshigaki Kisame,” he says. “Good to see you well, Zabu-san.”

“Hah! San!” The kid barks out a pleased laugh. “I like the sound of that!”

Juuzo promptly backhands him to the ground. “Mind your manners, boy! He’s Fuguki’s tool, a weapon of the Seven Swordsman.”

The kid spits blood like it’s a well practiced motion. “Just like I’m yours, huh?”

“He’s not housebroken yet,” Juuzo apologizes. “Orphans. You know how they are.”

Housebroken or not, Zabu’s a well honed weapon. He keeps up with them without complaint, and kills on command with no hesitation. At night, he retreats into Juuzo’s tent like a kunai would to a holster, sharp end first.

--

Being as they are both subordinates to two of the infamous seven Swordmen of the Mist, they see a fair amount of each other over the next couple of years. Zabu stretches out like ninja wire, thin and sharp and nigh unbreakable. His eyes gets sharper and crueler until all that’s left of that cocky-mouthed runt is his odd charisma, the very same that helped him convince a hundred little boys and girls to rip each other to pieces.

“Our country could be so much greater,” he says. “Don’t you think, Hoshigaki?”

Kisame eyes him carefully. To speak against the Mizukage is akin to suicide, and he himself has killed men for less. ���What are you getting at?”

Zabu’s eyes glint oddly in the firelight. “The country of Wind is dry, infertile. The land of Earth, selfsame. But ours is rich with rivers and wetland. We eat each other for lack of food, when we could be feeding ourselves rice and barley.”

How the years have changed this street rat to a philosopher, Kisame does not know. But he finds it amusing, nonetheless.

“You wish to become a farmer, Zabu-san?”

The brat grins sharp and jagged. “Nah,” he says. “Tools don’t dream of anything.”

--

Then some fucking green-ass genin from the Leaf goes and kills six of the seven Swordsmen, rendering them an international laughingstock and blowing whatever prestige it was to wield those swords out of the water and into the frying pan, because now they’re a bleeding fish out at sea, and all the world’s a shark ready to devour them whole.

To make matters worse, Fuguki-san has the fucking indecency of surviving the ordeal long enough to betray them to the Leaf, so Kisame’s the very last to inherit his sword, and by that time, he’s already lost any such illusion about his country being in any way capable of becoming greater than absolute zero.

--

Zabu, now sole master of the massive Kubikiribōchō, officially adds a third kanji to his name that means He Who Beheads. Kisame wonders if it’s a petty way of forcing the whole world to address him with respect even if they don’t want to, because Zabuzan sounds pretty fucking close to Zabu-san to his ears. He doesn’t say anything about that, though.

And when ‘Zabuza-san’ brings back a street rat he picked up from some godforsaken village and declares it his own personal tool, Kisame doesn’t say anything about that, either. Privately he thinks Juuzo would be rolling in his grave, if he had any.

Mei then lets it slip that Zabuza is planning a coup, gathering followers and inspiring rebellion. Kisame is surprised by how unsurprised he is, and wholly unengaged. Years ago his first gut reaction would’ve been violence, a dog trained to defend his Mizukage even when his master was fucking insane, but now his heart’s not in it. He just doesn’t give a shit.

Kisame doesn’t stick around to watch the fallout. He strikes a line through his headband and fucks off.

Mei’s devastated, of course, but she loves her country more, and it’s only by the grace of Samehada that Kisame makes it out alive. He wonders, as he leaves her bleeding, what their child would have looked like.

It probably would have died in the womb, Kisame thinks, and thinks on it no more.

--

They meet again as missing nin, years later. Zabuza’s coup failed and he left the country; Kisame left the country and joined a coup. How fate plays tricks on fools, Kisame thinks.

“Zabu-san,” Kisame says politely. “Good to see you well.”

Zabuza grins. “You too, big guy.”

Zabuza’s still being accompanied by his street rat, who he creatively named White Snow. The kid’s smooth where Zabuza is sharp, polite where Zabuza is rude, and is, overall, disgustingly saccharine with the man. And they’re clearly more than just a weapon to Zabuza, but Mist has never raised a child that knew how to love before they knew how to kill.

“Me and Haku are mercenaries,” Zabuza says. “For now.” He explains that they’re traveling around, gathering funds and followers across the elemental countries, with the ultimate goal of killing the mad Mizukage once and for fucking all. “We’re gonna make Water Country great again,” he says, and Kisame is reminded of Mei, of her unwavering love of the country Kisame has lost all loyalty to, and then Zabuza goes and says, “will you join us, Mr. Waterbottle?”

He really is a charming piece of shit, Kisame thinks fondly.

He doesn’t join them, but he does pledge his funds to Zabuza’s cause. And if he takes what payment Akatsuki gives him and deviates them to his old comrade in search of a better world, then no one has to know.

--

He hears of Zabuza’s death from his partner Uchiha Itachi. Apparently Itachi’s little brother and his team blew a hole through Haku’s heart and Zabuza died of heartbreak. The irony is not lost on Kisame.

“I am sorry,” Itachi says.

“Nah,” Kisame says. “We weren’t close.” Later, he says, “he wanted to be a farmer, I think.”

[artificialqueens]

Everything I Know, Chapter Two (Rajila, Hunger Games AU)

AN: not confident about my English writing skills, sorry :-(

“Breathe in,” said Phoenix, one of Manila’s prep team. “More. More. Really suck it in.”

“I’m trying,” Manila gasped, as the corset was drawn tighter and tighter around her waist. “Do we have to do this?”

“This shape is fashionable nowadays,” said Carmen, her stylist. “Very feminine. Beauty is pain, my love.”

The dress was white and padded in all the right places, making Manila look far older than she felt. A dark crimson stripe was splashed starkly across the front. She brushed her fingers over the material, repulsed by the colour, which they had also streaked into her hair. It was a look fitting for a ‘blood-stained queen’, as another member of her prep team, Mariah, had cheerfully called her.  Apparently, she had a whole group of supporters now, a subsect in the Capitol who called themselves ‘Fanilas’. They would be waiting with bated breath for her post-victory interview, Manila was sure of it. She had watched the Hunger Games every year for as long as she could remember, and every year, the Capitol threw a bigger celebration of the winner’s bloodthirstiness.

“I’m glad District One won,” said Phoenix blithely, tying off the ends of the corset ribbons and tucking them under. “We were all rooting for you, Manila.”

“Imagine all of the diamonds you’ll get to wear, coming from such a wealthy district,” said Mariah. “Oooh, I’m quite jealous!”

“Hurry up!” exclaimed Yara, pinning back a stray lock of my hair. “We need her on stage soon, ladies!”

Manila barely noticed as she was led out of the dressing room to yet another off-white corridor in the bowels of the training centre. It was almost time for them to be onstage, but she did not care. She did not even complain as she was chivvied into the elevator by Carmen, whose task it was to ensure that the traditional order was followed. First went the prep team, followed by the stylist, the mentor, and finally the victor. Manila noticed none of this. She felt as if she was floating roughly five feet above her own head, watching herself from above. Even when Raja, dressed in a sparkling crimson ballgown, squeezed her hand, she could not quite figure out how to respond in kind.

“You okay?” asked Raja.

It sounded like she was speaking from several metres underwater. Manila didn’t know how to reply, so she just shrugged listlessly. She could hear the heavy rumble of the crowd above as if it was a storm a couple of miles off, the moment before the wind and the rain hit. It was eerie, and a cold sweat broke out on Manila’s skin as the elevator began to rise. The anthem rang loud in her ears as she heard Michelle Visage greeting the audience. Nothing could prepare you for this. She couldn’t even muster up a smile as they reached the stage.

The crowd broke into applause as the prep team was presented. Phoenix, Mariah and Yara stepped out with huge smiles, taking ridiculous, bobbing bows. Carmen came next, sedately smiling and waving at the shrieking crowd. Of course they would love her, Manila thought. It had been Carmen’s idea for her to wear nothing but diamond dust and a corset at the opening ceremony, an image which had been burned into the public’s memory ever since. Raja’s appearance prompted several wolf whistles as she took her seat at the side of the stage. She had always been a fan favourite. Strangely, it was the one thing that brought Manila crashing back to herself, fully aware for the first time in over an hour.

Blinding light was the first thing that she registered. Manila blinked desperately, and Michelle cracked a few jokes about a ‘rabbit in the headlights’ before it was time for the show to begin in earnest. Manila stumbled blindly to the Victor’s Throne, unused to the extra height her heels afforded her. There would be no post-games showreel this year, thank goodness, the short duration of the games had saved her this humiliation. No one wanted to rewatch children dying of thirst, it just wasn’t exciting enough. Instead, Michelle plunged on with the questions. She was wonderful, teasing, joking, a true show-woman who had the entire programme under her thumb.

 “Well, Manila, what a ride for you…”

“I know,” Manila cut in with a fake laugh. “I’ve come on quite a journey.”

Raja gave an approving nod from her chair across the stage, so slight that only Manila could see it. District One victors had to be strong and resilient, as hard as diamonds. Manila was not going to break this stereotype. She just wanted the whole damned pretence to be over but she was not going to break character.

“You’re eighteen years old,” said Michelle cheerfully, “how does it feel to have won on your last chance of being in the Hunger Games?”

Most Careers would have felt jubilant, but Manila just felt numb.

“Brilliant,” she replied, giving a wide, empty smile. “I never dreamed I would get this far. It’s an honour, I am so proud to be serving my district in this manner and hope I can be an inspiration to any kids at home who dream of winning the games. If I can do it, then so can you!”

“You are already such an inspiration,” purred Michelle, obviously pleased with the direction the interview had taken. “What a story! I think that the thing that some people won’t remember is that Raja, your mentor, actually volunteered in your stead just four years ago. How does it feel to be working with the person who took that chance away from you at such a young age?”

Michelle thought she would be angry with Raja? Angry, that Raja hadn’t let her enter an arena of death at the age of fourteen? Manila’s hands began to shake but she maintained her icy smile.

“I was so annoyed when she volunteered for me all those years ago!” It was a lie, but the crowd ate it up. “However, it inspired me to do better, to be better, just to improve, you know?”

“I can imagine,” said Michelle, “and Manila, we were all impressed by your consistent performance in the games. That said, there’s one death with a whole heap of controversy surrounding it…”

“Yeah?” Manila’s mouth was dry.

“What did you think of fellow tribute, Latrice Royal?”

“Please, Manila, make it quick.”

Manila stiffened, eyes unfocusing. She could barely hear the audience begin to chatter amongst themselves as images of Latrice flashed across the screens around the room. She wasn’t ready for this. It was all too soon. She could still feel the cloying blood on her hands, though a quick glance at them showed them to be as polished and smooth as they had been since that morning. Where was the blood? She could feel its dirty corruption bleeding into her very pores. Still, somehow, she managed not to say a word, merely rubbing her hands together in an attempt to feel something that wasn’t crushing guilt.

“Maybe, if we were in a different situation, we might have been friends.”

Is that the type of friend Manila would be? The type of traitor who would stab someone in the back? She shuddered, bile rising in her throat. Short clips of Latrice’s performance in the games were playing now, her trident soaring through the air whilst her dark skin shone in the punishing sun. Manila couldn’t look at it. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe? The world seemed to spin around her, the faces of the waiting crowd blurring into a smudged mess of colour as she gasped for air.

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop it!”

Michelle raised a hand and the room grew deathly silent. “Manila, what’s wrong?”

“Stop!” Manila pressed her palms into her eyes, willing the image of Latrice’s bleeding corpse out of her mind. It didn’t work, and she felt bitter tears stinging her cheeks. “STOP IT!”

“Nothing is happening, Manila,” said Michelle calmly, a slight edge to her voice. This was not part of her plan. “Why don’t we move on with the interview?”

Manila could live with the stress of Career Training, she could deal with the fear of the arena, but she couldn’t live with this awful, painful guilt. It felt like her heart was being ripped in two. She kicked off her heels and got unsteadily to her feet, looking for any available exit. Naturally, there wasn’t one. No—no—she had to get out! Her gaze alighted on Raja, who was half-out of her chair with a worried expression on her face. Career Tributes simply didn’t lose it like this. Was Manila going mad? She staggered desperately towards her mentor. Raja was safe, Raja would help her…

“Raja… I—” she sobbed, before she stumbled, and her view faded to black.

                          *                           *                           *

District One were all crowded in the town square, divided into sleek units of boys and girls for Reaping Day. Manila was wearing the required white uniform, but she kept fiddling with a loose button on the cuff that she had meant to sew on last night. She had been too busy, she guessed, not really worrying about it. She had three ballots in that bowl, nowhere near as many as some of the older kids, who were now dying to be picked for the games.

She laughed a bit to herself at the irony of that. Dying. Hah.

The Career districts knew how to do a good reaping, though. This would not be the miserable hodge-podge of terror and desperation that the lower districts suffered through each year. No, this was an honour. Manila had only been trained for four years but she knew she would be able to kill, if the situation called for it. She’d done it four times before, after all.

“The male tribute for District One is…” The announcer paused, and the boys all drew a collective breath, hoping against hope to be picked. “Robbie Turner!”

Robbie Turner, a tall eighteen-year-old, smirked and lifted his arm in victory – much to the jealousy of several of his peers, who threw their pristine white hats to the ground. Their chance was gone. Robbie almost danced up onto the stage, shaking the announcer’s hand and grinning cockily into the camera. Manila shuddered, remembering how highly he had scored in the summer exam last year. That poor boy he had been up against… no one had expected Robbie to use a machete to do… that.

“And the female tribute for District One is…” Another long pause. Manila played absently with her cuff button, thinking of the celebratory dinner back at school that evening. She hoped it was spaghetti and meatballs, a treat they sometimes got on Reaping Day. “Manila Luzon!”

Manila’s name cut into her consciousness like a hot knife through, well, anything really. They’d learnt that in class last term. Manila knew she wasn’t ready. She was fourteen, five foot nothing, and had passed her last summer exam by a whisker. She wasn’t cut out for the games, let alone against Robbie Turner. Still, she fixed a shaky smile onto her face and walked through her classmates, heading for the stage. This was a death sentence, but that didn’t mean she had to crumble.

“Stop.” As Manila reached the older tributes, a calm hand pulled her back. “I volunteer as tribute.”

The volunteer did not even raise her voice, but the whole square heard her. Manila looked at her saviour, mouth slightly open. She wouldn’t have to compete? Raja smiled back at her reassuringly, her soft demeanour a far cry from what Manila had seen at Career Training. Everyone knew Raja was ruthless, a set of solid tens across the board. She was just waiting until she was eighteen to compete, as some were wont to do. Why had she volunteered now?

Raja did not answer this. She patted Manila gently on the shoulder and made her way to the stage, her gait smooth and fluid, oozing pure sensuality. Manila just stared at her, captivated. Raja was already playing a part, but it was one that she suited well. The older girl took the microphone from the announcer and gave the cameras a cheeky wink, eyes sparkling.

“My name is Raja Gemini, volunteering in stead of Manila Luzon, and I am seventeen years old. Happy Hunger Games.”

Manila fell for her then and there.

                              *                           *                           *

She woke in the hospital, again. This was a bad habit, Manila thought dully, trailing her hand over the duvet. At least they had dressed her this time, swapping the blood-dress for a soft cotton nightie the same colour as the sky on a summer’s day. Did this mean that she was not going to be punished for having a nervous breakdown on national television.

No, that would never happen. Divergence must be punished.

A single tear rolled down Manila’s cheek and splashed onto the white sheets. She looked away from the damp mark and, once again, met the eyes of her mentor as she sat by her bed. Another tear fell and Raja leant forward to brush it away with her thumb, a relieved expression plastered over her features. Manila looked away. She could not bear to have Raja angry with her, not now of all times.

“That was eventful,” Raja eventually said, though her tone was not angry. “You gave them quite the show.”

“I’m sorry,” Manila replied, chastened.

“You’re sorry?”

“It was weak,” she explained. Surely Raja could see that? “I made a mockery of myself on television. Moreover, I made District One look weak. I should be shot, or imprisoned, or something.”

“What?” Raja’s voice was hesitant. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“District One tributes are as hard as diamond,” said Manila, slowly and clearly. “I… wasn’t.”

“So?”

“I should be punished!” she exclaimed, frustrated. “You know this, Raja! Divergence must be punished.”

Raja looked at her for a long minute without saying anything at all. Manila bowed under her judgement, looking steadily at her blanket. Death, imprisonment, public flogging, she knew some punishment was in wait for her. No one shamed District One and got away with it, not even a victor. However, Raja did not pass judgement. Worst of all, she did not even seem to be judging Manila’s basic inability to control her emotions. She just sat there, quiet and sad.

“What can I do to convince you that you did nothing wrong?” she asked softly, clearly trying to get Manila to look at her.

“Nothing.” Although she hated it, Manila’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at her lap. “I know that I’m a fucking failure, alright? I would never have survived the games had I not been a career. All the other tributes died of thirst, but I was sent bottles and bottles of water from the very start. They never stood a chance against me.”

“Manila. Don’t say that.”

Manila looked up as Raja laid a warm hand on her shoulder. Raja’s dark eyes were softer and kinder than she had ever seen them. She remembered how frightened she had been of the older woman back in Career Training, not that it wasn’t deserved. Raja’s games had been the bloodiest in modern memory, culminating in the final four being forced to tear each other apart barehanded in a barren mountain setting. But that wasn’t her Raja. Manila’s Raja wasn’t the type of person who could do such a thing. Her Raja was sitting cross-legged on the edge of her hospital bed, all dark hair and bright eyes and glowing copper skin. Her Raja didn’t make her heart thud loud and scared in her chest. Her Raja made it feel like her heart… no, like the world… had stopped.

“But it’s true,” Manila whispered.

Raja’s eyes grew brighter, welling with tears. “God, Manila, it breaks my heart that you think like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Raja shook her head. “You don’t have to apologise to me, ever.”

“Ever ever?” Manila tried, and failed, to keep her voice steady.

“Ever ever,” repeated Raja, pulling Manila into a fierce hug.

A few things happened then, in such short succession that Manila would not for the life of her be able to remember in what order they happened. Firstly, she leant into Raja’s comforting warmth, her mentor’s slender arms somehow feeling more protective than any boyfriend she had entertained back in District One. Second, their eyes locked for one long second, somehow conveying something that both knew but neither had the courage to say. Finally, in one swift motion of ylang-ylang perfume and flowing silk, Raja’s soft lips met Manila’s.

[salexectrian-heir]

Loki: Chapter 9

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E* (not every chapter is E, most are rated T. Chapters containing explicit content will be marked with an asterisk*) Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly. [Previous Chapter]      [Read on AO3]

“Honestly, I think you should quit your job and be a chef, or one of those stay at home hipster-food bloggers that instagrams all their meals and gets sponsored by food industry monopolies.”

This earned her one of those rare and coveted chuckle-snorts she had grown attached to. She peered at him from over her shoulder where she stood in front of his kitchen sink, cleaning up the dishes of their--once again brilliant--grilled shrimp taco dinner. It had been over two weeks, since they had their first formal dinner together, since they slept together. A make-up of sorts for missing out on celebrating the new year. Naturally, the E.R. was filled with those who had made not so wise choices, blown off parts of their bodies with fireworks they should not have been setting off...and thus Anise was other was preoccupied. Solas had agreed to feed Loki for her while she was called away. So at least that spoiled brat got a new year’s kiss. Her heart fluttered when he met her gaze, lips pulling into a smirk where he sat lounging on his couch.

“There is only one problem,” he said, pouring them each another glass of wine from a fresh bottle. They had already killed one during dinner. “I don’t have an instagram.”

She shifted her weight and placed a hand on her hip. “Then how do you post all your mundane life updates?”

“Facebook?” He shrugged as she let out a mocking hiss of disapproval, “I don’t use it that often. Not much occurs in my life that demands a social media update.”

“Well, you should friend request me anyway so I can post random updates on your wall for you.”

Another tipsy chuckle and a smile that reached his eyes. “I’m sure you would.”

Dropping the towel she had been using to dry the counter, she made her way over to settle on the couch beside him. She swiped her glass from his extended hand and tucked her feet beneath her.

“What you don’t want to be connected?” she teased as he glanced down at his wine. “Are you still friends with an ex that would stalk me or something?”

His whole body went still.

“I was joking,” she playfully shoved him with her foot, and it brought a small smile back on his face.

“Joking as it were, you are...not entirely wrong.”

She stared at him expectantly. “Go on.”

“It’s complicated.”

He made to stand but she caught him by the elbow. He send a sideways glance towards her, a hint of apprehension in his eyes behind the mirth.

“Oh no, you don’t get out of that so easily.”

He sighed and brought his fingers to steeple over his flushed face. “My life revolves around my work."

“I know."

“Literally. My social circle, including my previous romantic relationships…” He straightened, his hands knotting together in his lap. “One more reason I was hesitant to get involved with you. I do not want to subject you, or anyone, to the chaos that is my life. My last relationship was a mistake. One I never should have made.”

“As they often are.”

“But because we work together... “ he exhaled sharply, “that’s not accurate. Because I work for her, I am still in frequent contact. It’s a bit a of a mess.”

She choked on her wine. “ You’ve slept with your boss, too ?”

Surprise rippled over his face at her outburst. “What?”

“Oh we’ll delve into my romantic disaster history in a minute. Please continue, you have a lot to unpack here.” She smiled behind her glass of wine, and nudged him again with her foot. “Go on, I want to hear this story.”

“Oh, no I would love to hear anything you have to say this point,” he turned to face her, tucking one leg beneath him, mirroring her position, “because what I’m about to say next will make everything worse.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. She decided putting wine in it was the best course of action and so she drained her glass. “Nope, you gotta finish embarrassing yourself first. Then I’ll layout my baggage.”

“I warned you,” his mouth split into a chagrined smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I got involved with the Chief Operating Officer.”

Anise gasped and immediately clasped a hand over her mouth, “The C.O.O.? Solas!”

“I was young and stupid and it lasted far longer than it should have. And of course, like all things doomed to fail, it got out. Her husband found out--”

“ Her husband!?”

“The CEO.”

“You’re playing with me right now.”

“No, I am being honest.” The humor left his voice. “It’ not even a subject we should be laughing over… but…” He drug a hand over his face, wiping  away the fragment of a smile from the moment before. “For once I am able to talk about it without hating myself, so that must count for something.”

Anise said aside her empty wine glass and scooted closer to him on the couch.

“Sorry I pried. I didn’t mean to open up things better left--”

“It’s okay. I should talk about these things.” He allowed her to take his hand in her own. “The point was that we are all connected on social media as well. I would like to just keep this new part of my life, my life with you , private. Something I don’t have to share with the world that demands every second of my existence.”

“Is this why you choose to live here, and commute to Arlathan?”

He nodded. “Obviously there were repercussions for our actions. I was demoted. She was suspended from her position. And that caused a lot of unrest in the company. She was admired by many. I was blamed for her downfall. And in a way, I am directly responsible.”

“What were you before a rep?”

“I worked in the labs. It’s where my true talent lies.” He shrugged. “But my clearances have been revoked and I was repurposed, as was she. Apparently we were still valuable enough to the company to be tethered and leashed for the last five years. Or perhaps it is a punishment.”

“Why don’t you just quit?” When he didn’t say anything she felt the need to add, “I’m being serious, Solas. If they’re treating you this badly, and it makes you this unhappy, walk away .”

“Could you walk away from your job after a major mistake knowing you might be able to fix , or make a difference?

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “No. I couldn’t.”

“Yes, the company itself is corrupt but the medicine they create saves lives. I used to be a part of that process.” He squeezed her hand. “I created this mess. My pride won’t just let me walk away from it.”

He may be a stubborn fool, but now he’s my stubborn fool.

“I want you to know that I’ll support you--no matter what you stubbornly choose to do.”

“You may regret that.”

A brief moment of silence enveloped them, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I also, have made some… less than wise decisions. And that is saying it nicely.” His thumb began idly tracing designs on the back of her hand as she spoke, and it gave her courage.

Here goes nothing.

She took a deep breath. “I was engaged, once.”

He sat up a little straighter, giving her his full attention. “You were?”

“Yeah,” with her free hand she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, “clearly didn’t end well.”

“Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

They shared a quiet laugh. “Hah, exactly.”

“Was it to your boss…?”

“Oh creators, no.” she shook her head vehemently. “A man from my clan. Arranged marriage type thing.” He stared at her sympathetically. “We wanted to start a family... but I…. we had a falling out and he cheated, I didn’t handle it well, I decided to go to med school instead, something that would take a long time and basically give me an excuse to never go home and...”

Face reality. Face the loss of a child, of a family. Too much, too painful. Change the subject, this is one for another time.

“The boss story though, that was more recent.” She changed the subject, adjusting her legs so she was sitting cross legged.  “ I got involved with one of the attendings when I was just starting out as an intern. Not my brightest moment. It was messy, and I quickly realized he was entangled with many other people, and not just me. It was a shock but once I figured it out I ended my part in it.”

If he noticed the abrupt topic switch, he made no comment. “Which attending did you sleep with?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Do you think you know him?”

“I might,” he gave a small smile.

“Anders is a remarkable doctor. I swear the entirety of his personal life puts your sleeping with your boss story to shame.”

That made Solas laugh, a real one this time. “I do know him.”

Anise blanched. “Oh, gods.”

Solas’ mouth curved into a teasing smile as one brow arched. “I’m surprised to hear the hospital staff fraternize so… frequently.”

“We’re not supposed to, but when you spend a sixteen hour high stress shift literally inside someone together...well…” she gestured with her free hand. “It happens. It’s a cesspool honestly. Every week I’m trying to figure out who’s sleeping with who so I don’t step on toes or accidentally out a relationship. It’s tiring.”

“I can imagine. No wonder you always look so wiped when you come home, avoiding all those bleeding hearts.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Admirable.”

She shoved him with her shoulder, a blush beginning to color her cheeks. “Stop.”

Leaning his elbow on the back of the couch, he propped his head up with his hand. “I just divulged a secret that would have sent any sensible person running from my apartment. And yet, you’re still here.”

“I pretend to have my life together, but it’s a mess.” A soft smile formed on her lips. “And yet you keep inviting me back.”

He gave a small shake of his head before he reached for her face, cupping her jaw in the palm of his hand as he leaned towards her. “As is mine, and yet you keep staying.”

His lips brushed her own.  She unfurled her limbs and slid her arms around his neck, pulling him gently down over her on the couch. He shifted to lay between her legs that wrapped around his hips once he had settled.

Pressing her mouth to his she whispered, “I never claimed to be sensible.” His tongue darted between her lips, coaxing a moan from her. “I don’t plan on starting to be now, either.”

[yukiwrites]

This Time, They’ll do it Right

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @pissybritchess! This one hurt and comforted at the same time, so I hope it’s to your liking :D

Summary: Three years after suffering a miscarriage, Sonja and Niles wonder if they’ll ever be blessed with a child of their own, anxiously panicking once she gets pregnant again... this time of twins!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Part 1 - Part 2

Healing didn't come quickly to Sonja and Niles. They took their time with their grief, and would yearly visit their baby's grave amidst the flowerbed closest to their quarters.

Sonja did her best to spend more time with as many people and animals as possible -- so she could fill her life with the joy she thought lost the day her baby was unborn. "You're a really spoiled horse, did you know, Apollo?" She snorted as she scratched her mount's ear. He leaned his head on her hand, as though telling her to never stop.

After the miscarriage, she steered away from mounting altogether, feeling the phantom pain inside her womb every time she thought of doing so. However, simply spending time with her faithful steed helped her immensely -- the beast was as tame as it could be, as well as spoiled to a fault. He refused to eat if his feed wasn't given by Sonja herself and the gods forbid someone other than her to brush him. Eventually she went back to ridding, all so as to pursue happiness again.

Apollo neighed happily, closing his eyes to enjoy her caress.

"I'm gonna get jealous, you know." Niles' voice sounded from behind them, at the stable's entrance. Apollo quietly growled. "Hah! What a little pest!"

The princess sputtered, coughing a laugh. "How many years do you think we've known each other?" She turned to her approaching husband, leaving one hand over Apollo. "You should at least be used to him by now."

Niles sneered. "Not my fault he's a monopolizing little shit. Look at that! Glaring at me like he owns you!" He placed one hand by his wife's waist, hearing the horse growl loudly. "I never even heard a horse growl before this guy."

Sonja's body trembled as she tried to hold in a laughter, to no avail. "T-this is too funny, I can't help it- You're competing with a horse!"

"Little old me? No way, little bird. I'm the one bedding you at night." He winked, licking her lips as he looked dead into Apollo's eyes. "There's no competition here."

Saying that, the retainer slightly moved Sonja out of the way, making her stop caressing the horse. That only made the princess burst into a louder laugh.

Practically carrying his wife, Niles stared back at Apollo as he dragged Sonja out, walking backwards. Too incoherent to speak, Sonja laughed all the way out, drying tears of mirth from her eyes after they were away from the stables.

"You're impossible! I can't believe you still feel jealous o-of a h-horse, pfft...!"

Niles held Sonja's chin up, closing in on her as their breaths intertwined. "What can I say? I have to mark what's mine." He licked her lips before opening his mouth for a deep kiss to which Sonja gladly succumbed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Little by little their days had started to be filled with happiness once more, though both of them avoided the subject of having children. It had been almost three years since the miscarriage, and although sex was strange at first, they never actually avoided it.

On the contrary, they could say that they were a very sexually active couple -- and yet, why didn't another pregnancy come? Afraid of the answer, they never looked for a midwife to either confirm or deny it.

Honestly, both of them still longed to have a family of their own -- that would finally make them feel like their lives were complete, and that they could finally hold the fruit of their love with their own hands. But would such fruit come to them naturally or would they need to give one of the children from Camilla's orphanage a home?

... And even if it did come naturally, would Sonja be able to see the pregnancy through the end? The dread of going through another miscarriage made her freeze in her tracks whenever she thought of bringing that up with her husband. She knew Niles shared her desire of having children, and also knew how he purposely never talked to her about it so she wouldn't go back to how she was during the first weeks after the loss.

They needn't words to communicate -- both of them knew of each other's desires and anxieties, but they also needed time to sort out their feelings as well as to muster courage to seek a professional. Meanwhile, they would enjoy their days to their fullest.

It wasn't a bad deal, really.

Up until the day Sonja first felt sick during the morning.

She jumped out of the bed and ran towards the latrines to throw up, a ritual she had done for the first 10 weeks of her failed pregnancy. With wide eyes, she slowly got back into the room, meeting Niles' equally surprised mien.

Sure, they might be looking too much into it, but Sonja had a strong stomach as well as a high tolerance for pain. The only time she ever felt so sick to the point of throwing up was when she was with child.

The princess froze by the door, one hand still over her mouth as though wiping it, the other one gripping at her sleeping gown over her stomach. "N-Niles..."

"C-calm down," he quickly ran to her side, protectively placing one hand behind her back. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions, yes? What did you eat yesterday?"

"Don't try to change the subject!" She felt her eyes burn with tears, walking at slow steps towards the fainting couch. "I know we've been avoiding talking about this, but... but I... I..." Sitting down, her eyes welled up.

Niles sat beside her, carefully wrapping his arms around her, placing her head by his bare chest. "I'm sorry for never bringing it up, but-"

"I know... I know everything, but still I- I can't help but feel so anxious- What if I'm finally pregnant again? What if I can't keep this baby either?! How will I live with myself after that?!"

"Don't!" Niles held Sonja by her shoulders, making her desperate eyes look at his pleading one. "Don't think like that, p-please, I don't want to see you that way ever again. I'm not the best at being hopeful or saying pretty things, but- let's call the midwife quickly, alright? She might laugh at our faces for jumping into conclusions, but I want to do everything right this time."

Sonja sniffled, feeling warm tears stream down her face. "I- M-me too." She brought both hands to her chest, remembering the little box which held her first baby. "I want to hold our baby into my arms, I want to tell them how happy they've made me. I-I want to meet them, oh Niles! I want to meet them!" She sobbed, throwing herself by his chest once again.

Niles' brow flickered with emotion, his eye burning with emotion as he desperately held onto his beloved, digging his face into her fluffy hair. "We'll do everything right this time, little bird."

Hearing her beloved's serious yet uncertain voice by her ear made Sonja sob louder than before, one hand protectively over her stomach the whole time. They couldn't say how long it took for them to compose themselves again, but after Sonja sniffled for the last time, she looked up to her husband with conviction.

"Don't ever let me be alone, okay?" She said with a deep voice, but before he could open his mouth to reply, she raised one finger. "I don't meant just you -- of course you have your duties with Leo and stuff. I mean to never leave me on my own; I need someone to check on me for any bleeding or to get water for me without me needing to get up and stuff. I... don't want that same situation to happen again. Never again."

"Of course, little bird." He cupped her face, placing his forehead on hers. "I'm sure Jakob's gonna be more than happy to be with you all the time... But I guess I should call Feli-- no, not her -- Lady Camilla, instead. Or Lady Azura."

Sonja snorted with her husband's selection, nudging her cheek on his. "It doesn't need to be only one person. Everyone can take turns if that's what it takes. I just can't be left alone. Promise me that, Niles."

"I'll promise a thousand times if it'll appease your heart, little bird." He smooched her lips, trailing his kisses to her pointy ear. "We'll do everything by the book this time."

Finally did the princess' shoulders sag, the anxiety temporarily melting away. She closed her eyes and enjoyed her husband's scent for a while longer.

Later, the midwife indeed laughed at them for jumping into conclusions, since no other symptoms could be found (no stress, no missing period -- yet, anyway --, no cravings etc etc), but still told them to keep an eye out for any of them from then on.

"It's common to have another pregnancy a few months after the miscarriage 'cause the woman's more fertile. Ev'ryone's their time, though, so now might be the time ya've finally healed and are ready for another try." She had said. "Keep in touch, though, an' we can arrange for me to move to the servant tower closest to  here to keep an eye on ya if ya so unsure."

"Please move in right away." Sonja said reflexively. "I doubt my brothers will notice the movements of a new servant or two at the tower, so you can leave the moving all to me." She never let go of her husband's hand, looking for much-needed support. "Of course, I'll compensate for your time and any clients you might lose with the moving, even if I turn out not to be pregnant, but... I need every precaution this time."

The woman had had an air of mirth from the start, but soon her expression hardened with Sonja's speech, seriously taking it all. "Alright, then I'll be yer shadow from now on. But only time will tell if yer really expectin'."

Husband and wife exchanged glances, tightening their grips on each other's hands. "No matter how long it takes." They replied in unison.

The following weeks were filled with anxiety and anxiety counter-measurements. Sonja shouldn't feel stressed if she truly were pregnant, after all. Whenever she did, she would -- veeeery slowly -- walk towards the stables to pamper her horse.

"I'm sorry I won't be able to ride you today either, Apollo. I might not for a while, too." She patted his nose, "you need to be a good boy and let other people care for you, okay? It might take me a while to come back here."

The horse neighed with distraught, lightly nibbling at his master's hair. Sonja laughed. "Don't be so pouty! I need you to promise me, c'mon!"

Apollo looked away, and if he could puff his cheeks, he would have at that moment. Sonja placed both hands over her hips.

"Apoollloo..." She threatened, making him lower his head and turn his ears back. Finally he conceded and begrudgingly neighed in accordance. "There's a good boy! Who's a good boy?" The princess squeezed his sides, making it neigh happily.

By the entrance, Jakob watched in amusement. "It truly does look like the beast understands you, milady. It's a wonder you understand it as well."

Apollo growled, glaring at the butler, then turned his face away. Sonja laughed. "He shows everything on his face, though. But thanks for accompanying me, Jakob."

"At your service, milady," Jakob bowed, narrowing his eyes to the impudent horse. "Were Niles here, he would most likely bicker... with the horse, after all. I AM the most suited to assist you in your every need, however."

Sonja giggled, happy to be able to do so. Despite the anxiety, she was so very glad to be surrounded by people who cared for her and were ready to be there for her should anything happen.

She wouldn't let that happen again. Not this time.

A few weeks later, they finally confirmed that Sonja's period was late by at least 12 days, so they've redoubled their attention. Paranoid, she would take as long as one minute to take one step whenever she wanted to take a walk, taking the 'take it easy' line way too literally.

"You know you don't need to be this careful, right?" She would hear many a person say it, but she chose to ignore it. Niles even started to walk slower on his day-to-day duties since he got used to accompanying his wife.

By the 8th week, the midwife noticed something strange during their weekly examination. "Oh, my. My! My!" She lifted her head from under the blanket, gesturing for Sonja to close her legs and compose herself. "It's been a while since I saw this!"

Immediately did husband and wife hold hands, their chests cold with dread. "See what, lady?" He asked brusquely, cold sweat streaming down his back.

They didn't notice how happy the woman was, but that was understandable, so she cleared her throat before saying: "There's room for two here!" She winked. "If I'm right, ya'll start growing a bump two weeks from now!"

Sonja felt faint, quickly lying her head back at the pillow. "Niles-what did she say? Did I hear that right or-"

Befuddled, Niles took one hand to his forehead, slicking his bangs back. "Two?" he mumbled, squeezing his wife's hand, not knowing if he should laugh or cry. "Two?!"

The princess giggled nervously, the world twirling around her. "Are you really sure about that?" She breathed out, not being able to focus on the nearby midwife.

"My predictions are usually right, ya know. As I said 'fore, only time will tell, but I'm purty sure you'll have two, yep."

Barely did the words reach Sonja, she brought her free hand to her mouth in emotion, her eyes immediately welling up. "T-twins...!" She sniffled, turning to place her head by her husband's leg. "Oh, Niles!"

"Hah, hahah..." The retainer laughed nervously, not wanting to show that much emotion while the midwife watched, but barely being able to contain his feelings. "We'll do this right, we will..." he managed to say despite the lump growing inside his throat, slowly bending down to his wife so as to make their foreheads touch.

Realizing that they needed their time, the midwife quietly left the room, taking it upon herself to deliver these babies. She wouldn't let another miscarriage happen, by the gods! Not with such loving couple and wonderful parents.

Her predictions were on point, after all: after barely two weeks, Sonja already had to change out from her usual pants and wear looser dresses -- the bump started to sprout.

The morning she saw it, the princess could barely contain her emotion, breaking down in tears in front of the mirror -- she had gotten only as big during the first pregnancy, though it had taken double the time. She would see herself grow more and more, for sure. For sure.

Seeing the bump grow brought even more resolve to the couple's heart, as well as more anxiety and paranoia. Every single time Sonja chose to lie down during the day, she never used a blanket to cover herself. Last time, she hadn't noticed the bleeding because it was under the covers. Not again.

She would also keep the jug of water by their bedside table, so she wouldn't need to get up to take it. Not again.

Every day, Niles would talk Jakob's ear off, resulting in a daily bickery about how the butler is already qualified to take care of his lady, thank you very much and how the retainer had to bring up the past mistakes so as to keep him on edge. Not again.

Of course, Niles never left his Lord wanting regarding his own duties, but his mind would always drift back to his wife, expectation and dread beating side by side in his heart.

Their nervousness reached its peak once Sonja reached the 20th week -- the same point she had reached last time. They could barely form words during that entire week, always treating Sonja as though she were glass. Once it passed, the princess cried a little, laughing as her husband said that they've gotten a new record and that they would keep breaking it until the end.

The rate which Sonja's stomach would grow was astonishing -- twins really did need a lot of space! She already looked like 8 months pregnant at bit past four months. Camilla would visit often to gush over her tiny nephews as well as to give Sonja a really good oil for the skin so she wouldn't have lingering stretch marks after the birthing.

"You'll let me apply every so often, won't you, darling? I so want to feel my little babies as much as I can!" Camilla would say sometimes, always trying to look for a tiny head or a foot as she inspected Sonja's growing belly.

The feeling of having someone (someones!) growing inside of her was magical and strange at the same time -- she could feel whenever they moved, and would giggle, imagining that they would be fighting for space inside that cramped womb.

"Don't worry, little ones, you'll have plenty of room to grow once you're here with Mommy." She would whisper whenever they moved, so very much looking forward to meet them already!

More often than not, Niles would miss the times whence the babies moved, pouting before filling his wife's belly with kisses. "You rascals! I won't let you elude me forever!"

Slowly but surely did their anxiety over a miscarriage faded, all the while Sonja grew more and more each day. The morning Niles could actually see a little foot through Sonja's belly was the most emotional he had felt ever since first finding out she was pregnant, all those years ago. He was uncharacteristically happy that entire day, his wide smile creeping Leo out.

Sonja stopped taking long walks once her legs swelled up to the point of her not being able to go down a flight of stairs without a great amount of effort. The day she dropped her book while getting up was also one filled with mirth: she couldn't for the life of her to bend herself down to fetch it, awkwardly letting Niles take it for her as he laughed her ears off for hours.

Sometimes he would sputter out of nowhere, prompting Sonja to elbow him on the stomach. He would still, laugh, however, feeling so utterly happy, not only from the good joke.

They would often lie awake on each other's arms -- Niles always hugging Sonja from behind so as to caress her belly -- unbelieving of their situation. She was due soon, sooner than they actually felt prepared to. The pregnancy, despite filled with anxiety, insecurities and lots of slow-walking, went by so fast.

More than once did they talk about how should they name the babies, but without knowing their genders, they were forced to think up two names of each gender, not knowing which of them to choose should a boy-girl pair end up being born instead.

Sonja had chosen the names for the boys while Niles chose the ones for the girls, both of them scarcely believing that they were at that stage already.

For peace of mind's sake, they had made the midwife move to the anteroom of their quarters, so she would be close at any given time.

Every single discomfort Sonja felt was reported to the midwife, who would scold her for startling everyone because of gases or constipation.

"But this time- this time I know it's different-" she said one afternoon, pressing at her belly to check. "I can't feel this level of pain, but I'm sure it should be hurting a lot by now."

"Oh, alright, lemme check." The midwife gave in, making Sonja sit so she could lift her skirt. "Oh, my. It's true! Your water's gonna leak anytime now, dear."

"Hah! What did I tell you-" Sonja's cheekiness kicked in quicker than the surprise and expectation did. "Oh. Oh gods. It's really happening? Jakob- JAKOB!" She gripped at the mattress as the midwife quickly went back to the anteroom to get everything ready. The butler promptly opened the door right away.

"Did you cal-"

"Go get Niles, now!" She huffed, not actually feeling any pain, but knowing that the contractions were happening.

Panicked, the butler stuttered something akin to 'is it coming-' before turning on his heel and running back to fetch his lady's husband. Soon the midwife's whole staff was on standby, counting the frequency of her contractions not by her cries of pain, but by how often the water leaked from her.

Niles arrived not too long after, too anxious to even speak, simply kneeling by the bed and holding his wife's hand the whole time. They exchanged glances, their sweaty foreheads matching as finally Sonja felt pain -- it was time to start pushing.

Compared to when she had lost her baby, pushing an entire one out wasn't so hard -- she just needed to breathe and squeeze her husband's hand to near bone-shattering. The moment Sonja heard the first cry, she started sobbing.

"My baby- My baby... let me see it!" She cried, lifting her free hand.

"Concentrate! There's still one more to push!" The midwife said as the first baby was being washed by her assistant.

"It's a boy!" The girl said, wrapping the pointy-eared baby on a warm towel.

"Kana!!!" Sonja cried out, pushing the second baby with everything she had. Niles was torn between looking at his crying wife, his crying son or waiting to hear the cry of his second baby.

Not three minutes later did another wailing start, louder than the first one. "Ohh, this one's got a strong lung!" The midwife laughed, "and it's a girl!"

Niles finally broke down, his shoulders sagging so much he almost melted onto the mattress. "Nina...!" He sniffled, letting go of Sonja's hand to welcome his tiny daughter on his arms at the same time she did with their son.

Both of them had matching pointy ears, just like Sonja's. "They're your spitting image, Sonja. I demand more children so they can look like me." He tried to joke under his sobs, giving his index for the tiny red baby to grasp. She gripped it with the most strength her oh so very small fingers could muster, making Niles' chin tremble with emotion.

"Oh, Niles, they're so small!" Sonja cried. "Finally, finally our family is--" She sobbed, ever so softly kissing Kana's head. "Finally we're complete."

[iseutz]

Chapter One

The girls all thought that Julian Devorak was a loonie, but also that he was really handsome. That was the exact word; not hot, dreamy or sexy: handsome. He appeared to have the strongest bad boy charm, with his leather boots and auburn hair, and –apparently- a smile so sweet you would have sold your mama to buy him smokes. Despite his glamour, tho, I never met a girl who actually had any first-hand experience of the boy: he was too much, they said, with his coat that looked like a cloak and that pirate eyepatch. The kid tried too hard. And he was a junkie, everybody knew that.

I knew for a fact that he wasn’t, because my best friend was his sister Portia and thanks to her I had a much less romanticized image of him: it’s hard to find intriguing someone when you hear him constantly being referred to as “Dummy” and “Banana boy”. Quite surprisingly, though, I had never seen him. I wasn’t a “going out” girl (we lived too far from the city center) and he was bigger than us, went to med school and wasn’t simply around the time that I was. When I met him, anyway, he managed to make the whole thing unforgettable.

I was fifteen, almost sixteen and in full high school flow: I started my first year as a quiet wallflower, just like I spent the whole secondary school, to avoid bullies. I gave off extraordinary punching ball vibes and the last three years had been nothing short of atrocious, so I was prepared to keep the lowest profile possible at Vesuvia High. But then, something happened; or rather it didn’t: kids acted normally with me. Even the bunch that came from my old school, once in the bigger pond became neutral to me. Everybody was too nervous for the new environment, too eager to get into its game, to care about me. And I cautiously raised my head and started too look around. I allowed myself a personality and, even though I never became popular I escaped the “nerd” label for this time (and I’m talking about the late ‘90s, when nerd wasn’t really in). That’s when I met Portia, in literature class; she was, bluntly speaking, the sole properly alphabetized person in the class, and she enjoyed books, too: we bonded over a copy of Of Love and Other Demons and by the end of the hour we were pretty sure to be soulmates. I spent a lot of afternoon at her place, with the excuse to study, watching videos on Mtv. They still had music videos… good days. In all this, I never ran into Julian; there had been signs of his presence, of course- a door closing when I arrived, music playing from his room, a lot of bands t-shirts drying on the rack in the bathroom, but all in all in all he looked like a guy who liked to guard his personal space, and he kept religiously away from our girl time.

When I finally met him, I was into band t-shirts myself: I was well halfway my second year, and the times were ripe for me to dive headfirst into my rebellious phase: I wore a lot of black kajal, black clothes and leather cuffs, and I tried with every mean to look different and mysterious. It wasn’t a bold choice: grunge was still all the rage and a lot of girls wore torn pants and Dr Martens. I tried to look more on the gothic/punk side, but back then spiked collars and velvet dresses were harder to find than you think, and I didn’t have a lot of money. In the pictures from those years I look decently ridiculous, but I was sixteen and those clothes were my armor.

The t-shirt I was wearing that night sported a full-body Marilyn Manson wearing a guepière and a collection of bleeding cuts. My mother hated it with a passion, and I hadn’t permission to wear it at school, but this evening it boldly adorned my otherwise scrawny chest while me and Portia lounged on the velvet sofa of her living room, listlessly zapping from channel to channel. It had been pouring for hours and I was cringing at the thought of the half-an-hour-by-bike that awaited me on my way home; I had been pushing the thought away hour after hour, delving in a long and detailed discussion concerning the Guns ‘n Roses members and their most probable bedding habits: Portia had a thing for Duff McKagan and the unwritten rule of our friendship was to always enable the other part’s fantasies, especially those about rockstars or fiction characters; we could happily spend hours sorting all the characters from The Lost Boys from best to worst musicians. Today we’d call it headcanoning.

7 PM and I had no more excuses. I sat up, every inch of my body dripping reluctance “Well, I have to go”.

-But it’s raining cats and dogs- Portia looked up from her mandala coloring book. Man, were we into that shit. -I  know, but I have to be home for dinner. I wouldn’t say no to a little flu… maybe I can skip math test tomorrow. -Are you sure?- Portia followed me into the doorway. I smelled the dinner that Mazelinka had already started cooking. Mazelinka was a family friend; Portia called her “aunt”, but she wasn’t a relative, just a friend from Granma Devorak, and when the kids had moved to the city they had come to live with her. Portia and Julian came from Nevivon, and it was common that young people were sent from their families to Vesuvia to attend high school or college. Hopes on education as a gateway for a better future appeared well founded, back then.

Judging from the smell, it was some sort of goulash; I’ve never seen Mazelinka cook anything that wasn’t floating in a pond of soup, but all of her creations were delicious.

-Selendri! Are you staying for dinner?- She shouted at me from the kitchen.

-No, thank you Mazelinka, but I have have to be home for dinner and I have to leave now with the bike.

-Nonsense! It’s raining. Ilya will drive you. ILYAAAAAAAA!- she shouted without awaiting for my answer.

-But… my bike…- I weekly objected while Mazelinka shouted instructions over my voice. An unintelligible grumble came from the other end of the doorway.

-I will bring it to you tomorrow at school- smiled Portia. She walked to school, so it wasn’t a big deal to her. Oh well, my father would have driven me for one day. I moved towards the coat hanger to get my jacket, testing the wall with my hand to find the light switch. When I turned it on, Julian was standing by the coat hanger, froze in a hunched position while he was putting on his cloak, blinking like an owl in the sudden brightness.

He was as tall as the hanger, probably taller, with a wild tuft of hair falling on his right eye. He was wearing his black eyepatch and a pair of bright red tartan pants and home slippers still on. Sid Vicious in soft pants. I smiled awkwardly covering the distance between us. While I played with enthusiasm the role of the entertainer amongst my handful of friends I was still extremely uneased meeting someone for the first time, and spending the long trip home with my best friend’s ill-reputed brother was going to be demanding on me. However, I was also curious of such a subject, and I did want to make a good impression.

He gave me half a smile in response, hopping on a foot as he was putting on one boot. We spent some time in silence as he tied a couple of yards of shoelace up to his calves, then we moved to the kitchen to wave our last goodbyes.

-You never met Ilya before, did you?- asked Mazelinka, pointing at him with a wooden spoon. –Don’t let him scare you just because he’s in a pirate phase.

-See you later, Mazelinka- Julian talked over, and he turned to open the main door. I hurried after him as he went down the outer stairs. Mazelinka’s house was a two-story old house; the proper apartment was at the first floor, while the ground floor was a single room full of tables, old chairs and sofas and an even older kitchen counter covered in mason jars. Mazelinka spent all of her time there, making jam and possibly liquor and going upstairs only to cook and sleep. The house had a private garden-slash-parking lot, I really don’t know how to describe it: there were flower bushes and fruit trees, but it was mainly gravel and the only car of the family – Julian’s car – slept there. It was an old Volvo, the kind with pop-up headlamps, predictably black. We got inside as quickly as possible.

-When she says pirate phase- Julian said abruptly. –She means that I don’t want to wear my prosthetic eye.

I said nothing; it was a debut too personal and couldn’t find a word to say. Julian continued, unfazed by my silence.

-It’s not even correct: I am wearing my prosthetic, even now. I don’t like how it feels without it. But it doesn’t move… well, it does, but it’s never really in sync with the other eye, and it looks weird. I prefer to wear the eyepatch, and if that makes me a pirate, then so be it – he turned to look at me. – I’m telling you because I know what people say and… well, now you know it’s not an act. Spread the word, ok?

-Ok… uhm, wanna know my address?

-It might be useful, thanks.

I explained him how to reach my condo while he fumbled with the CD player and turned on some music. I didn’t know the song, but the singer’s voice sounded familiar, so I ventured a guess:

-Nine Inch Nails?

-Oooh- he grinned. –Glad to know that you’re into some actual music.

-Got a problem with Mr. Manson? – I was ready to fight whoever dissed my beloved reverend. I had a serious crush on the man; I’ve always had a soft spot for lanky guys with big noses.

-Mmmmh. The music itself is not that bad, but he’s… too loud. Too much make up, too much provocative shit. I just don’t buy it.

-Many good artists have flashy looks. Think about Kiss.

-Hah!- a raucous bark of a laughter. – You like Kiss? How old are you?!?

-I’m old enough to appreciate good music, thank you very much. And what about Bowie?

-Are you seriously comparing Marilyn Manson to David Bowie?

He had a point. –No, I guess I’m not.

-You’re forgiven. Want a cigarette?- he fished a packet from the pocket of his coat, squirming in the car seat to get it. He was really, really tall. His legs looked never ending.

-They would smell it at home- I replied unhappily.

-Don’t worry, I have gums. Mazelinka never found out I smoke. Or perhaps she doesn’t care. Here – he moved the packet in my direction and I helped myself. He also tried to light it up for me, but I was sitting on his blind side, so I had to steady his hand in mine to complete the task without accidents. He didn’t seem to notice; his attention was elsewhere.

-Do you hear it too?- He asked.

-Hear what?

-A rattling noise… it comes from your side of the car.

Sure enough, something was rattling and tumbling and it came from under my seat.

-There must be something underneath…- I reached my arm and felt around with my hand. – It’s a beer can. A full one- I announced pulling it out.

-Marvellous! This is a gift from above and we must honor it- his hand extended in my direction and I put the can into his grasp before he grabbed something else by mistake. He opened it with a hand, keeping it beneath his thighs, and took a long gulp.

-Wow- I giggled nervously. –Smoking, drinking and driving in the rain. You like to live dangerously.

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

-You’re right – he said, and for a while he just drove in silence. I busied myself feeling stupid and childish until he steered the wheel unexpectedly, entering a small parking lot.

-What are you doing?

-I refrain from putting our lives in danger – before I could find something to say, he had parked, reclined his seat and eased himself with an arm under his head and the beer in his hand. The glint of his cigarette danced in the halflight as he happily sighed:

-That’s life. God, I love simple things.

Well, here it is: first chapter of my 90′s nostalgic Modern AU. Nothing really happens in this chapter, but that’s an introcution, for you. You still get to meet Ilya, tho. I couldn’t find a title, so suggestions - as well as feedback- are welcomed!

[sparxwrites]

Yes hello!!! Tanner telling Kayden to slap himself in the face again and Kayden grinning and doing it and Tanner savoring it Is a kink I did not know I had But maybe it's just T and Matt making it so compelling *sweats* (Tanner should go over there and do it himself; I'm sure Kayden would look up at him and offer up his face with a sneer and a lick of his lips)

anonymous asked: talk to us about kayden being SO willing to slap himself for tanner that seems like a thing you’d enjoy :3

“You having fun now?” snapped Tanner, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he paced back and forth, jittery, trying to cover his nerves. This was- this was a lot. This was too much. He couldn’t admit it outloud, wouldn’t admit it outloud, but he couldn’t fucking cope with this. He was a kid, they were all just kids, and he could feel the panic trying to strangle him as the reality of their potentially-deadly situation abruptly asserted itself.

Worst of all, it was real. It was all real, and a year’s worth of denial, of hating Kayden for what he had supposedly done, had just vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Tons.” Kayden bit out the end of the word, as though he was forcing it through his teeth, his jaw tight and eyes hard.

Tanner barely contained the laugh that twisted around his lungs like a thorny vine, a black, humourless thing. The reasoning behind the hatred may have collapsed, but that didn’t mean the hatred itself had – and right now, drowning in fear-anger-panic, it was the one thing he could actually cling to. “A lot of fun?” he asked, and even he could hear the poorly-suppressed hysteria in the words, beneath the fury of them. “Everything’s just so much fun, isn’t it?”

“God, Tanner…” breathed Sat, her face still tear-streaked and horror-stricken. She looked as scooped-hollow as Tanner felt, and it made something in his chest ache – but he ignored her, eyes locked on Kayden’s.

And Kayden… Kayden, the fucker, looked him in the eye right back, and slapped himself. He growled through it, through the pain and the flushing-red of his pale skin beneath the blow, sniffing, and still staring at Tanner with that loathsome, implacable defiance.

The roiling anger in Tanner’s stomach, abruptly, solidified into cruelty.

“Harder,” he ordered, voice quiet and all the more dangerous for it. “One more time, harder, so I can see it.”

There were exclamations from the others, surprise and horror, but he tuned them out. None of that mattered right now – nothing mattered, except for his anger, and the electric tension in the air, and the way Kayden was flexing his hand in a half-heartbeat’s worth of thought. Tanner was hyper-fixated on it, and time seemed to move molasses-slow for a moment, as he held his breath.

He didn’t actually expect Kayden to slap himself again, but really, that just made the crack of Kayden’s hand against his cheek all the more sweet.

One of the girls cried out, something shocked and indignant about it not being Kayden’s fault, and Tanner could hardly contain his laughter. “There’re a lot of things that are his fault,” he said, bitterly, teeth clenched tight enough his jaw was beginning to ache. “Just give me a minute to enjoy him brought down a peg.”

He might have been be talking to the girls, but all he had eyes for was Kayden – Kayden and his stupid fucking smirk and his stupid fucking hair and the stupid fucking look in his beautiful eyes, like he was angry-excited-hollow-sad all at once. The handprint on his cheek was blooming candy-red, and god, Tanner wished it was his.

Kayden smiled, all bared teeth and insolence, and Tanner’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Good enough for you?” asked Kayden, lazily, eyes bright and cheek red and teeth bared, like some creature out of Tanner’s nightmares come to haunt him on Earth for his sins. “Or you wanna hit me yourself, huh, Tanner? Make sure it’s done properly, because god, I’m enough of a fuckup as is, who knows if I can even hit myself ri-”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence before Tanner punched him in the mouth.

Raina yelped in shock, and Sat lunged forward to try and get between the two of them, but Kayden- Kayden just grinned, split lip and bloody teeth and faintly manic eyes, as Tanner stared.

He felt about as surprised as Raina looked. He’d never hit anyone before, not… not like this.

And then Kayden’s nose wrinkled into a sneer, and he bared his teeth, and spat a globule of bloodied saliva right into Tanner’s face – and it suddenly didn’t matter that he’d never hit anyone before. He was more than willing to learn, right here and right now, and Kayden’s face would do as his punching bag, because fuck that smug, sneering asshole, the bastard, who does he think he is-

Everything went red-rage-black after that, for a while.

By the time Sat managed to pry Tanner off Kayden, yelling the whole while and eventually shouting for Darby to help, Kayden’s face was a mess – as were Tanner’s knuckles. It was hard to tell whose blood was whose, crimson smeared across Kayden’s lip and below his nose, and from the cut across his eyebrow where Tanner’s fist had split the thin skin over the bone. Tanner’s hands were red-streaked, too, knuckles cracked and bruised from sloppy punches, bruises already rising to mirror the ones around Kayden’s eyes.

And he was still grinning. The fucker was still grinning, even as he scrambled out from under Tanner and stumbled upright on shaky legs, wiping the trickle of blood running down over his lip.

“Feeling better, huh, Tanner? Feeling powerful?” Kayden asked, the edge of a hysterical laugh to his voice. For all his bared teeth and curled lips, though, there was an edge of fear in his eyes that hadn’t been there before – and a miserable sort of resignation that Tanner couldn’t quite understand. He wiped at his nose again with a shaking hand, staring at the red streaked across his thumb as though surprised it was still bleeding. “Like father like fucking son. Should’a fucking known. Hah. Shit.”

Tanner’s insides turned to ice, the vicious rage cooling in a heartbeat to be replaced with horror.

“I- you provoked me,” he spluttered, trying to ignore the fact he was still on his ass in the dirt, with Sat pinning his arms behind his back and digging nails into his skin. He could feel the way she was shaking, just from her grip on him, and the sick feeling in his stomach soured further with the knowledge that he’d upset her so badly. “You knew what you were doing- you deserved that, and you know it-”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, cringed from them and the memory of how often he’d heard them – accompanied by the snap of his father’s belt, burning across his thighs. But they were out there, and there was no way to take them back.

All he could do was sag in Sat’s grip, panting as he slowly came down off the adrenaline high, and try not to look at the bruised mess of Kayden’s face, staring down at him. He didn’t want to see what he’d done.

“Spoken like a real man,” sneered Kayden, blocking the stream of blood from his nose with forefinger knuckle and thumb whilst he waited for it to clot, hissing as he nudged his nose. “Fuck.” The grin was sliding off his face, the same sharp, shocky anger-misery lurking behind his eyes beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Daddy’d be so proud, Tanner. Make sure you fuckin’ tell him all about it when you get back – how you put the fuckin’ trailer trash bastard in his place, huh? Fuck you.”

He spat at Tanner’s feet, lip curled up in disgust, and stumbled over to where he’d left his backpack – slumping down on the rotting log next to it as though his knees had given way, as though he was trying very hard to hide that fact and was failing dismally. His hands were shaking, though whether from adrenaline or fear or something else entirely was anyone’s guess.

Tanner felt the grip on his arms loosen, ever so slightly.

“If I let you go,” said Sat, voice shaky and a little hoarse from yelling, “are you going to hit him again?” She sounded like she was about to start sobbing.

“…No,” mumbled Tanner, shoulders slumping, eyes on the ground. The shame was choking, now, winding around his stomach and throat, increasingly difficult to ignore. He didn’t want to hit anyone any more – didn’t want to do anything. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

The grip on his arms disappeared entirely, and he barely had time to bring them around to his front and rub at his forearms before Sat was there, glowering at him through tear-streaked makeup. He was entirely unsurprised when she slapped him, snapping his head to one side, one of her rings catching his cheek and opening a tiny, half-inch cut across his pale, freckled skin.

“Deserved that,” he said, quietly.

Sat just stared at him for a moment, jaw clenched and eyes hard. Then she nodded, once, and stalked off across the clearing to where Kayden was sat – leaving Tanner on his ass in the dirt, alone, as Raina stared at him wide-eyed. Darby made studiously sure she was looking at her journal, and only her journal.

Tanner stood up, on legs scarcely more steady than Kayden’s, and found his own log to sit on – careful to keep Darby and Raina between him and Kayden. Or rather, Kayden and Sat, since she had her arm around Kayden’s shoulder and her eyes narrowed in Tanner’s direction.

“So,” he said, quietly, heavily, wiping the drying blood off of his knuckles with the hem of his plaid shirt. It was difficult to speak through the guilt but, somehow, he managed it, voice raw enough that it almost seemed like he had been the one doing the screaming. “…What do we do now?”

[setsunatama3]

Chapter 13: the invincible girl falls, and the cub begins to grow

It has been two months, and naruto and his group of friends had adjusted to going to Beacon well. If anyone would ask what the hardest part of going to Beacon was. They would tell you that school was easy. No, the hard part was the training that one Naruto Uzumaki put them through. Especially for one Jaune arc. 

His day started with running (for his life) under the guidance of a very enthusiastic Kurama. Who enjoyed making him sprint for eight miles every day. 

Then came his team training, where he learned the importance of blocking and dodging.

"Come on, man keep that arm up," Naruto yelled striking Jaune's shield over and over.

"You have the most aura on your team which means your the only one who can take hits like this and get back up. Focus on your footwork and remember. You don't have to take every blow.

 You are the vanguard. To do that you need to learn when to take hits for your team and when not to." 

"R-right, Jaune stammered after taking a somewhat hard hit to his shield but managing to stand his ground. 

"You're doing much better soon we'll begin to work more on your sword and shield play. But we're going to call it a day for now. Don't forget to increase the weights by one bar each." naruto said as he tossed a food pill to him," here take this it will help restore your aura. We need to head to the dorms and get ready for class."

The two rushed off to get ready for class.

While sitting in professor Ooblecks class as the man zipped about during his lecture. Asking questions to the class. For once Jaune was paying attention in the course and was able to answer the question he was given correctly despite Cardin's attempt to disrupt the lesson. For which he was held back when class was let out. And they headed to the locker room to prepare for combat class.  

Quickly entering the combat class as the bell rang. Naruto sat with his team and waited for his time to be called down to fight. Wich as of recently has been more and more frequently for both him and Sarada. Not minding fighting in the slightest as it was entertaining to see what handicaps they would be given.

After the demonstration that one Naruto Uzumaki had given in that exhibition match against team CRDL. Glynda was not happy with her current orders from the headmaster as she thought to herself. To find out just how strong Naruto and Sarada are. So far, everything she had done to see how strong the pair where had failed in her opinion, the only way to truly test the children would be to bring in Qrow and fight them together. But right now her desire to inflict that drunk upon the children. Was about as much as her desire to fight a leviathan grim without the use of her semblance. She had to grimace. In fact, the Grimm would be preferable. After the boy did what he did to his floor of the dorms by modifying all the rooms, it effectively made it impossible to spy on the young man. So they were reduced to this. And at her wit's end and only one possible match for his skill, she selected the first matchup of the class and put it on display.

-Naruto Uzumaki vs. Pyrrha Nikos-

Stunned by the matchup as they don't usually have teammates fight each other Pyrrha just walked down to the center arena robotically. Naruto had a different reaction as his eyes narrowed on to Glynda. As he stood up and walked down his eyes, never leaving her. Knowing that this was Ozpin's doing. 

Closing his eyes and counting to three naruto calmed himself down. Not wanting to get himself worked up over this issue resolving to deal with the headmaster later. 

Looking to Pyrrha and seeing how nervous she was even if she did not show it. And wanting to break the tension naruto gave her one of his biggest grins and said, "well Pyrrha it looks like we are going to have that match I promised you a bit early. Let's just have fun."

Taking a deep breath, Pyrrha slapped her cheeks and smiled in the face of the daunting task of facing her leader and partner." you know when you said that I did not expect it to be in a class of all things."

"Hah, I know, right. I expected to fight you in one of our team spars." 

Glynda stepped up and started to give them the rules of the match," alright the rules are simple for this match no ring outs or surrenders. You will continue this match until one of your aura meters reaches the red or by submission. And naruto I don't want you to use your semblances." 

Stepping back, Glynda gave the starting count, and the match between the invincible girl and the maelstrom began.

Sipping on a cup of coffee and observing the current fight, Ozpin thought to himself with a small hidden grin. The odd pair that was Uchiha and Uzumaki. Aside from being superb at fighting the couple was clearly experienced in leading and teaching. Even if they tried not to show it the concern they had for their current group of friends was telling. And if anyone could get the young man to show more of his hand than he was willing, then it would definitely be miss. Nikos. Ozpin just hoped that they could help hold the line in this perpetual war against Salem. For what was needed to win would be no less than monsters in human skin. Something like that has not graced the land of remnant since the purge of silver almost a millennia ago.

When the warriors of silver were sacrificed. To steal the relics from Salem and sealed away, and Ozpin himself went into hiding to keep the keys away from her. The same keys that would birth the maidens ironically sapping the majority of his own power. That started this wretched cold war between them that has lasted since the schism of the Pax Romana and the fall of the order of the Sol Divines almost five hundred years ago. Since then has just been proxy war after proxy war resulting in that deaths of billions. With the most recent being major conflict being the great war ninety years ago. Since then it has been smaller skirmishes that have been bleeding his resources dry. And the loss of his most significant asset a descendant of the tribe of silver and maiden of spring. One summer rose almost thirteen years ago. And more importantly, neither of her daughters did inherit the power of the maiden and the implications. Therein of the loss of a vital asset. That was not able to be replaced until now. Seeing this as an excellent chance to observe his current hope to maintain the status quo. He took another sip, thinking, "now let us see just what you can do Mr. Uzumaki…"

Once the match began neither moved. Waiting for the other to show the weakness of any kind. Then at once, Pyrrha took off like a rocket firing shot after shot at naruto. Who seemed to be dodging the gunfire by the smallest of margins. As she closed in and shifting her gun into spear form to make a series of thrusts. Forcing naruto to dodge lest he is impaled on her spear.

Pulling a kunai from his pouch, he deflected a trust opening up her guard.taking full advantage of the opening naruto spun to deal a devastating roundhouse kick that she managed to block with her shield by dropping her spear. And leaping back to take the blow mid-air to let it carry her away from naruto.

Falling to her back into a roll, she leapt to her feet. With determination in her eyes.

"Did you guys see that...," Ruby exclaimed in utter shock at the display of the two fighters.

"I knew they were good, but this is amazing," Blake stated. 

Completely accepting this as normal Nora simply stated. "Nah, this is more of a warm-up for them when they spar you guys haven't seen anything yet."

True to form naruto had grabbed the fallen spear from the ground as Pyrrha made it to her feet and threw it at her. Letting her weapon slip past by the narrowest of margins Pyrrha used her semblance to slow it down to grab it out of the air as it flew by allowing the rest of the momentum bleed off by allowing it to pull her back several feet then mecha-shifting it to rifle mode and cracking off four shots as she slid to a stop.

Forcing naruto to move from his spot for the first time. Naruto took off like a rocket reaching into his pouch, grabbing several shurikens throwing them in rapid succession.

Using her semblance to force the blades to just miss her by a hairsbreadth she charged to meet him mecha-shifting her rifle to sword form to clash blade to blade. Blocking a knee from Pyrrha naruto made a jab with his right hand at her face that was blocked by Pyrrha's shield. Acting quickly, Pyrrha swept his legs out from underneath him. Jumping over the leg sweep and pushing off her shield naruto gained distance and threw another shuriken that missed her and threw several more that reflected off of the first thrown shuriken forcing it to come in from her rear. Dodging by a small margin once again. 

Feeling pressed more than ever before reaffirmed Pyrrha's belief in how strong naruto was. Breathing deeply, Pyrrha said," wow… your strong naruto."

Dropping his stance and rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess I better not let you down.

With a mere glance, Pyrrha could tell that his relaxed posture now was just an act. The moment that she would try to do anything, he would be able to respond with ease.

Looking up from his perch, Kurama was surprised at the joy he could feel from the bond. "Oi, brat getting a little bit excited are we?"

"Mah mah, Kurama you know that this is the best fight that I've had in a long time even if I haven't begun to use chakra yet it's still fun." 

"Ha, you just haven't been able to fight for fun that did not involve the Uchiha."

Refocusing on the fight, he mumbled to himself, "a little more." 

He took off almost seeming to disappear from sight. Stunning everyone as he reappeared right in Pyrrha's guard. It happened in practically slow motion for Pyrrha. Naruto delivered an uppercut to her shield that took her off her feet once she was airborne an ax kick sent her tumbling back down to the ground and a surprisingly soft landing. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was caught in a net of some kind of thread. Upon a closer look, it was not a new but a web of thread anchored by the shuriken and kunai that naruto had thrown that bound her and made her unable to move. The netting tensed when naruto landed on the web. The whole room was silent at that moment. No one expected the invincible girl to lose like this. Then all at once, the room erupted into cheers for the match. 

After Glynda regained control of the room, she announced naruto the winner. 

Naruto cut Pyrrha down and helped her down from the threads. "you did good Pyrrha."

Smiling and still coming down from her battle high Pyrrha responded, "Yes, naruto but not as much as you, I honestly can't wait for a rematch." while Taking the ten minutes to help naruto recover his weapons. 

When they headed back to their seats, they were congratulated by their group of friends. When Yang lept from her seat hugging naruto. "you were great naruto." looking over to Pyrrha and seeing the look on her face she quickly added, "You did a good job two Pyrrha." pulling naruto to sit next to her while waiting for the next spar to begin.

After putting the results of the match into the computer and sending her notes to Ozpin. Glynda looks on the board for the next matchups after scrolling through the list she came upon Jaune Arc and Cardin Winchester. Putting the names on the screen, she had a sense of satisfaction. She knew about the young Arc's dramatic improvement in his fighting abilities. The only thing he is lacking in confidence. Unlike Cardin and his team riding on his family name and not training much since his arrival here at Beacon. And what was worse is the fact that he was a racist bigot.

She had to raise a brow when Mr.Arc was stopped by naruto who whispered something into his ear, Patting him on the back and sending him on his way to the arena.

"Ready for another beating Arc? Man, this is going to be so easy," Cardin sneered.

Following naruto's advice, Jaune took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He then peeled back his sleeve and released his seals. The sensation of walking through wet concrete with an Ursa on his back lifted. Jaune let out a sigh of relief and nodding when Glynda asked him." Mr. Arc, are you ready?" taking note of his odd actions.

On the screen overhead, it displayed their names.

-Jaune Arc vs. Cardin Winchester-  

"Fighters ready?" Glynda called out and getting confirmation from both she began the match.

Acting cocky was Cardin's first mistake. Expecting Jaune to just be the same easy kid to fight that he was at the beginning of term six weeks ago. Taking the same approach, he did the last time they fought a direct charge. Hoisting his mace above his head as he charged, leaving him completely open.

An opening that Jaune saw and took advantage of. Blocking the downward strike with his shield and delivering a haymaker to Cardin's flank. Winding Cardin as he stumbled back and drawing his sword and bashing Cardin's face in with his shield. And finishing the match by taking his legs out from underneath him by clipping his knee with his sword. And holding him at sword point. Breathing deeply and blinking in amazement. And for the second time that day everyone was speechless. As one of the worst students in terms of skill just beat Winchester and it had only taken him less than five minutes. Something like this dramatic improvement was unheard of. 

Blankly going through the motions, Glynda declared Jaune the winner of the match and proceeded to call for the nurse to check on Cardin before he gets more blood on her lovely clean floor.

The rest of the class had passed by without anything of note. For Naruto as the rest of his friends were not selected for a fight. Before class ended, Glynda announced to the class." please be aware that next Friday we will be heading to Forever Fall to harvest sap for dr.peach"

After classes let out for the day, Naruto was pulled away from the group by Weiss and Yang. Fortunately saving him from her method of celebrating of Jaune's win an all you can eat pancake buffet at ren's expense.

After directing him into an empty classroom and locking the door. Naruto now curious about what this was about asked, "So what can I do for you, ladies?" 

Looking at each other and taking a breath, Yang took the lead on this part of the conversation. "During your match, we talked it over, and we decided to ask you for help we want to get stronger, a lot stronger than possible ordinarily."

With her peace said Weiss took the lead. "We have goals, and we also have people we want to protect. And we also want to stand by your side proudly and say no matter what happens, we won't be a burden."

Taking them seriously, Naruto's whole demeanor changed at that moment. It was like a switch in his head was flipped. And what was left was the shinobi that was always lurking just beneath the surface. As his eyes hardened like glaciers, he took note of their resolve and was impressed that they did not back down. 

It lasted for only a moment but for an instant, but Weiss and Yang felt completely naked under naruto's intense gaze. Before he smiled at them and gathered them both in a big hug. In that one action, they welcomed all the love and compassion that he could express for him.

 Leaving the embrace, he started to rub the back of his head feeling a bit bashful. "so I do have something I have been working on in my spare time it's mostly for Weiss." 

Yang started to pout when naruto delivered the news to them but perked up when he continued on." I'm going to be honest, Yang I have a method for you to get stronger, but you're not going to like it, in fact, neither of you are." 

The two girls paled at that statement and the look on his face.

"But enough of that let's go celebrate Jaune's win with Nora's pancakes, and I've got a dozen bowls of ramen with my name on them." with a grin on his face he leads the two out and to the cafeteria with the rest of his friends to celebrate Jaune's win.

Sitting in his room after activating his lockdown seals, he pulled out two scrolls one labeled Shiroi kiji the other Jīnlóng. Opening the first, he reconfigured his room into the forge configuration. And set to work on the forge pouring high-density yin-yang release chakra from both himself and Kurama and the other bijuu.into the metal that he was working into eight fin-like flechettes and a cylinder for a revolver.using his chakra to inscribing a compatible seal matrix directly into the still cooling metal. Etching the runes and inscriptions into the metal. To the point the script was. Overflowing off the forge and onto the floor and into the room. All while pouring chakra into the metal still changing the metal drastically bending it to his will.  To quench the metal, he poured water nature chakra into the metal forcing the metals to cool and the etchings to bleed red. As they pulled in the inscriptions slowly into the newly made chakra metal. When finished each piece of metal had nine branching paths etched into them. And to finish each matrix, he poured his yin-yang release chakra to use the Banbutsu Sōzō no Jutsu. To form crystals in the settings made of pure chakra. When it was all done, he was utterly exhausted, and after resealing the new weapons and shifting back the room, he passed out on his bed. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him was that one of the tools that would help his loved ones survive in this world was done.

While naruto was working his forge that night, a revelation was occurring in another room. Between the former invincible girl, the princess, and the dragon.

In the awkward standoff between the three Pyrrha broke the silence first.

"So I would like to know what is going on between the two of you and my partner?"

Weis and Yang shuffled awkwardly looking between each other. Knowing that this was probably going to be one of their most unpleasant conversations. Wanting to frame this conversation, so it did not devolve into violence or ruin naruto's relationship with the red-head.

So with that in mind as if on some unsaid queue. Wiess pursed her lips and spoke for both of them. "We are both interested in pursuing a relationship with naruto and have made our intentions known to him.also..." as she spoke, she had gotten progressively redder and eventually stalled mid-sentence. Devolving into mumbling incoherently and fidgeting awkwardly pressing her index fingers together. Forcing an equally blushing yang which was rubbing her arm to speak up and take over. Knowing that when she had this conversation with naruto, it was easier then than now. Mostly because her embarrassment was blunted by the joy she felt in expressing her feelings.

"We both agreed to share rather than fight for him.

Pyrrha, stunned by the admission and a little jealous at the two for getting to naruto first. Grit her teeth in frustration and had to count to ten and remind herself that she never staked a claim on the blonde. And would most likely have to work in this new dynamic if she wanted to pursue a relationship. The fact that she had been crushing on the blonde when they had first met. Then that attraction had grown over the weeks that she had known the whiskered blonde. To the point that she had fallen madly deeply in what she could now call love. Not lust, admiration, or a meer attraction. She was utterly absolutely in love with one Naruto Uzumaki. And this revelation was something challenging to get past. The way she was raised was one of a monogamous family unit taught that it should be man and wife, not man wives. Making it very difficult for her to come to terms with the concept of a polyamorous relationship. Taking a moment to calm herself down, Pyrrha looked the two in the eye hardening her resolve on what steps she would need to take next. "I love naruto to, and I just won't let you have him. I will make him fall for me and me alone."

With her stance clear and the line in the sand drawn as it were. She was taken aback by the smirk on Weiss's face. When she simply ignored the declaration of war. Strode forward in an act reminiscent of what had happened to her. When Yang had confronted her about her own feelings. And kissed Pyrrha full-on making use of her surprise to use tongue and deepen the kiss. And pull away, leaving the girl with a parting statement. "May the best woman win." pulling the speechless Yang away with her to bask in her victory with the blonde.

After leaving Pyrrha to her own devices, Weiss walked hand in hand with Yang. With one destination in mind. When Yang in all her provocative glory, spoke up with a Cheshire grin, "So either I am rubbing off on you or you where the naughty one this whole time. And need a bit of corrective spanking." causing Weiss to stumble and almost fall on her face had it not been for Yang she would have.

"W-w-what no it's just…" unable to finish her sentence and getting redder by the second. Yang decided to spare her the explanation. "I get it; she is challenging our relationship, and you don't take well to someone in the way of a goal. Something that you and I don't like and you wanted to make your stance clear to her that we can share. But still, princess what I would like to know is how much tongue did you use?"

Breaking out into cackling laughter as she ran away from her flustered teammate. Who gave chase as they made their way back to naruto's room.

Opening his door and seeing naruto haphazardly passed out on his bed. One leg on one-off and still in his clothes covered in dirt and grime smudging his face and body.knowing that he can't sleep in that state. The two nodded to each other, agreeing to work together. 

"I'll go set up a bath if you wake him up and we can coax him to bathe. Yang said knowing how to reconfigure the seals in the bathroom to the large bath setting. And was pleasantly surprised that it was an onsen style bath just like the ones in Mistral. Pleased that there was not much to do to set up the tub. As it was already filled, she just had to turn on the heater. After doing so, she went to check on Weiss and Naruto.

The scene she walked in on was not one she expected.weiss was pinned underneath a sleeping naruto. With her skirt riding up to show her panties.as he snuggled into her chest.unable to stifle her snickering at the comical scene Weiss started to glair. "Don't just stand there help!" Weiss exclaimed, now thoroughly tired of being pinned and used as a  body pillow by her boyfriend. Not that she minded the groping. It was just that she would prefer for him to be awake to do the groping. Maybe a little make-out session and a bit of petting.

She was rudely broken out of her fantasy when Yang snarked back as she helped her with naruto. "So did you get distracted with waking up naruto or are you considering a change in life goals to be a body pillow?"

"Haha, very funny yang." Weiss deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

After pulling naruto off of Weiss. The two managed to rouse naruto into a semi-awake state. And led him to the bath. Yang took the lead and striped first and then helped strip naruto. She was very amused at the reaction she got from Weiss in her attempt to subtly check out naruto. Getting a full look at his abs and the many scars. She started to lick her lips as she began to look lower. In her admiration. She couldn't help but drool thinking," yummy, mama likes.

Her daydreams were once again interrupted by Yang. "You know I'm beginning to think that I'm not the perv here. I know Naruto's yummy, but he's practically unconscious." 

 "S-shut up," Caught in the act and sufficiently embarrassed, she started to take her own clothes off. as Yang just smirked and started to walk away from helping guide the semi-conscious blonde into the bath.

Weiss walked covering herself in a towel in as Yang guided naruto to a stool and started to rinse him down. Completely red-faced with embarrassment and feeling inadequate when she compared herself to Yang. Looking herself over thinking disparaging thoughts. When compared to Yang taking note of her long flowing hair. To her perfect curves and ample bust and perky despite the size. It was at the mounting negative thoughts that naruto woke up fully. Sputtering when he was sprayed in the face with water.

Coughing and clearing his thought, he stood from the stool and strode over to Weiss. To hold her in his embrace as if to will away the negative thoughts. Whispering into her ear, "you should know I'm not with you for your looks."

Nodding into his shoulder, Weiss began to relax. "So you know you don't have to hide anything from us, Weiss," Yang said as she looked at the pair with a small smile. 

Leaving naruto's embrace, she took a breath and untied the knot holding her towel up. With renewed confidence, she sat down next to Yang, allowing the two to take in her figure. From her significantly smaller yet no less beautiful breast with perky pink nipples. To the curve of her hips and long toned legs and stomach. That lead to a nice but. And her long flowing hair and perfect pale skin that contrasted beautifully with pale blue eyes like diamonds.pouty lips and a button nose. And a completely smooth hairless pubic mound. To her perfectly toned arms and the hands of a swordsman. All said her beauty told the story of a woman who was not just her looks. But a woman who was dedicated to her goals and dreams.

Taken aback by this step, both Naruto and Yang caused to exclaim," your beautiful" at the same time. Reassured that Weiss partners saw her for the woman she is. Rather than just her body and the scars that at one point, Weiss believed marred her beauty. Weiss could say that she no longer felt plain when compared to others because Naruto and Yang loved her for who she was.

After washing the trio enjoyed a soak in the tub for a while. Appreciating the time they had with each other before getting out and going to sleep. With the knowledge, they cared for one another.