#we’ll see but I guess all I can say right now is I feel… aimless

[probablygayattorneys]

I was going to make a comment about how that’s another in the books but then I realized… it’s not a just another in the books. It’s the final chapter. I read the last page. I’ve now played every single canon Layton game including his children’s spin-off, watched the movie, watched Kat’s anime… the book is over.

Her and I both need to find something new.

[palbabor-writes]

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst  

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu​, @kogo​ & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is. 

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.   

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.” 

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use. 

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.” 

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips. 

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.” 

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you. 

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up. 

There’s no way. 

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??” 

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns. 

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about. 

What a jerk. 

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand. 

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile. 

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district. 

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you. 

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression. 

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone. 

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs. 

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression. 

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!” 

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not. 

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy. 

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst. 

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again. 

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over. 

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.” 

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.” 

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips. 

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart. 

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze. 

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained. 

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity. 

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?” 

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk. 

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.” 

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away. 

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

 “The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–” 

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”  

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you. 

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo. 

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull. 

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling. 

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you? 

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body. 

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him. 

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence. 

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue. 

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip. 

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…” 

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms. 

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin. 

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway. 

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.  

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath. 

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots. 

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement. 

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined. 

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him. 

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally. 

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now. 

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier. 

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…” 

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning. 

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him. 

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room. 

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses. 

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.” 

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck. 

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect. 

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged. 

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.  

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?” 

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!” 

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you. 

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you. 

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him. 

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin. 

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants. 

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites. 

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.” 

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.  

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him. 

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.” 

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls. 

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher. 

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm. 

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat. 

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips. 

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’” 

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands. 

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze. 

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you. 

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…” 

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you. 

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder. 

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach. 

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud. 

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air. 

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets. 

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body. 

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you. 

That change is all it takes. 

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break. 

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals. 

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom. 

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties. 

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?” 

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form. 

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

[fykimtaehyung]

V: “I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together” (cont.)

What instructions did you give to the other members when they were singing on your song, “Blue & Grey”? V: I didn’t really have to give them instructions much. I told them it would be nice if they could think of all their problems and then try healing those wounds with their voices, since if they focus on those emotions, there’ll be more feeling in the song. They all did a good job expressing the emotions I wasn’t able to. It seems like you intended “Blue & Grey” to be a melancholy song. I heard you had originally planned to put it on your mixtape. V: I wrote “Blue & Grey” when I was at my lowest point, when I was actually asking whether I could keep going with my work or not. Even the fun parts of work became a chore, and my whole life felt aimless. “Where do I go from here? I can’t even see the end of the tunnel.” Those kinds of thoughts hit me hard. Was there a reason for that? V: It was when work was a major challenge. When I’m happy, I want to work, and when I’m happy I can put on a smile and see the fans, but there was just so much work to do. I’m an easygoing, you know, laid-back person, but I was stretched too thin and I was starting to sputter. What I mean is, I was having a really tough time, and thinking, “What’s waiting for me at the end? It’s important to be successful, but I’m also trying to be happy, so how come I’m not happy right now?” That’s when I started to write “Blue & Grey.” So writing the song was sort of your way of bringing yourself some peace of mind. V: There was a time I was going through something like this. I was having the toughest time, but I couldn’t keep carrying that feeling around with me. Instead, I could use it as a kind of fertilizer. So I took care of that feeling by constantly writing it down in my notes. I just kept writing everything down, and when finally I felt like I wanted to try writing a song, I did. After the song was finished, I felt a sense of accomplishment, and that’s how I was able to let go of “Blue & Grey.” That was one way I wanted to try getting over my problem.

The songs you make or sing solo on all have similar images: night; loneliness; snow. V: I like nighttime and the late-night air, and when it snows, too. I liked those things since way back when, but lately I feel things like snow and the night air keep me alive. They may just be another part of normal life to other people, but to me, they represent very special moments. That makes me think of the ending from “Blue & Grey”: “After secretly sending my words up into the air / Now I fall asleep at dawn.” V: I don’t really sleep well. I toss and turn and get caught up in a lot of thoughts. Even when I turn out all the lights, I can see everything clearly. I close my eyes, but all my thoughts spread wide open. Then I’m sleepy at work, and staring off into space when I’m alone, with bags under my eyes, but if I want to avoid that then I really have to sleep. Except, with the way I am, it doesn’t allow for it. I wrote about that in the first and second verses; a feeling like, “When I’m stuck thinking like this, everything is grey, and I’m all blue.” I wrote these feelings out as a song, and now that I’m thinking about it again, I’m actually over it. I feel a lot lighter. I sent my words out into the air, and now I fall asleep at dawn. You’re supposed to sleep at night, but I’m sleeping in the morning again. So I say “good night,” but it’s not actually a good night. “I pass out because I’m exhausted” kind of thing. It’s the emotions I felt in those moments that I wanted to express. What do you hope hearing about that feeling will do for listeners? V: Rather than just some stranger telling them to cheer up, I think it’s better to say something like, “You seem depressed lately,” or, “Seems like these days it’s tough for you to perk up.” “Blue & Grey” is the same: “You’re depressed lately? Me too. We’re in the same boat. Wanna talk about how you’re feeling? You wanna feel better, right? I know, but sometimes it feels like you’re being washed away by a whirlpool of stress.” I want the listeners to hear me saying that to them.

It’s important to express your emotions right away when they’re so overwhelming. V: Yes. I usually write a lot of songs when I’m feeling emotional, but these days I have so many different things to do that I can’t really write anything. I tried to write something before when I had a little time, but nothing came out because the feelings I had were already gone. So I tell myself, “You gotta write a lot when you’ve got the feels!” (laughs) And then I open my notes app and come back to old notes, like, “Ah, so that’s how I was feeling back then? I see. Well, that’s how I used to be, I guess.” So I tried to write “Blue & Grey” quickly, as soon as a big feeling came on. Then it’s important to revisit those feelings when you’re producing a song or choosing which songs to release? V: If you can’t bring the feeling back, you can’t make the song, either. I release a song if I feel it expresses who I was and how I felt at the time when I wrote it. Even if we record it perfectly, if the result sounds artificial, I would rather release another, more honest sounding song instead, even if it’s not perfect. Are those the kinds of songs you selected for your mixtape? V: Um … I don’t know. This is my first mixtape, you know, so I feel a ton of pressure about it. I’m thinking all the time about what kind of album I should make so that I can feel satisfied with it. The title track is the title track, but everyone also says to just leave it as it is, but I keep getting the urge to keep putting in more and more.

You usually write and choose songs based on your emotions. Maybe the pressure to make your first mixtape comes from you having a hard time with that. V: I think it still has a long way to go. Maybe it’s because it’s my first mixtape, but it’s so hard. And I feel like it’s a little lazy. People tell me just to put it out and see how it does, but I’d rather know what needs to be fixed before I release it. I also don’t want the title track to be depressing. I want it to be positive and help people beat those depressed feelings. But it’s not easy. That sounds a lot like what the members conveyed with “Life Goes On.” V: I think we showed the current situation in a very straightforward and honest way. We’re still going, going, going. And the going is tough. But it doesn’t end here. I wish we were back with ARMY, laughing together. I hope we’ll all be happy in the future and keep on doing our own best, cherishing our hope for our happy future.

[sometimesiwrite]

Just a Scratch

B I N G O ! 

Prompt: It’s Just a Scratch

Pairing: Lambert/Aiden; Eskel & Lambden; Implied Geralt/Eskel 

Rating: Teen 

Summary: Lambert and Aiden are moving to start the next leg of their adventure together. Eskel sees them off.

Warnings: Modern AU; bittersweet; friends leaving; implied COVID distancing A/N: For Ben & Jemma

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo @continentcakeshop @morethangeraskier​

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33145900

“All set?” Eskel asked, squishing in one final duffel bag into the footwell and backing himself out of the rear door of Aiden’s VW Golf. Anya, Lambert and Aiden's husky mix, dozed sleepily in the back seat despite the excitement, having been rudely awoken at 6:30am to confusedly do her business.

“That’s it,” Aiden shrugged, letting the trunk close with a dull, satisfying thud. He opened his arms questioningly, and Eskel wasted no time pulling him into an affectionate squeeze, touching his hand to the back of Aiden’s head before pulling away. 

“You take care of yourself. Let me know when you make your first stop, alright? Anything goes wrong, just let me know.” 

“We’ll call you from the hotel,” Aiden reassured as he flipped the car keys over his finger.

“I still say we can make it to Port Hope by the end of the day if we push it.” Lambert was tucked under the hood, giving the car one final check for fluid levels (tyre pressure had already been meticulously checked earlier that morning).

Aiden tilted his head, “That’s if you drive and unfortunately the highway patrol doesn’t care about fuel efficiency if you’re going ten over the speed limit.” He ambled his way over behind Lambert to get a cheeky eye-full of his favourite view, “Besides, I need you to put that sexy brain of yours to work for navigation.”

“Oi! Gerroff!” Lambert protested and Aiden backed away, but not before getting in a perfectly resonant smack. “If you had it your way, you horny old bastard, we’d be stopping every two hours to—”

 Eskel pointedly cleared his throat, scratching his head as he met Aiden’s eyes with a mixture of amused pride and endearing awkwardness that Aiden had so quickly grown to love. He would miss Eskel. They'd gotten close over the last five years, close enough that they had become friends of their own—each keeping the other company when Lambert or Geralt was out of town, planning surprises... 

Aiden's proposal had gone perfectly, their crowning achievement of mutual scheming. Lambert didn't even try to deny the fact that he'd cried like a baby—candles, dusk, his favourite hiking trail, champaign. Even Anya had behaved herself. That is, until she decided her owners had been embracing for too long and not paying nearly enough attention to her. Eskel had offered to edit that part out of the video, but Lambert insisted on keeping it in—"What's a special moment without our favourite dingus. Isn't that right, Anya? Are you a dingus? Yes! Yes you are!" 

“Not gonna miss us at all, are ya, big guy?” The hood latched heavily as Lambert wiped his hands and stowed the oil rag in the passenger's side door next to the Stanadyne.

"You kiddin'? I'm gonna miss you like hell. C'mere." Eskel wrapped Lambert in a bear bug that nearly crushed his goddamn ribs. 

"Easy, Eskel, Jesus I gotta breathe!" 

"Sorry," Eskel eased off, but he didn't let go. There hadn't been enough hugs in the last year. The last few months had barely made up for it, and now there would be far fewer. More dinners over Skype, more sporadic phone calls, occasional texts... watching his and Aiden's life unfold over Instagram and Facebook. But at least they would be happy, Eskel told himself. At least they were starting the next stage of their lives together with an adventure they'd remember forever. This was important for them. And yet the chill, damp fog of isolation was already creeping in around Eskel. Even as he held Lambert close to him and swallowed tears he'd save for later. 

One final squeeze and a pat on the back, and Lambert turned to get in the car, tossing a treat to Anya as he settled in. Aiden gave Eskel a final peck on the cheek, "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't be a stranger. Call, text, whatever. We're always happy to hear from you. Promise?"

Eskel nodded soberly, "I will. Thanks, Aiden." 

"We'll skype when we get to the new place. I want you to see it before it gets cluttered with boxes. We could even do dinner or—"

Eskel waved a hand, "We'll figure something out. Just get there in one piece, and send pictures. I'm not worried." 

Aiden smiled warmly, "Good. Good." A heavy exhale, "Alright, well..." 

"I hate to interrupt the bleeding hearts moment, but we've got commuter traffic piling up on the 606 as we speak! Get your gorgeous butt in the car, we gotta move!"

Aiden took a beat, "Yes dear!" 

"Okay, Anya! You be good!" Eskel gave the chocolate-and-caramel pup one last scritch behind the ears and closed the rear door just in time for the stereo to start playing Journey.

The car rolled down the driveway and Eskel watched until it disappeared over the hill past the stop sign. When the gravelly diesel purr was finally drowned out by late summer cicadas, Eskel sat heavily on the front steps with his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to open the door and go back inside. Something about the stark emptiness of a home previously occupied with guests made the aimless silence too loud. Besides, robins and cardinals were better than daytime tv for company. Finally, Eskel rested his forehead against his thumbs and let the wave of emotion breach the dam.

Shedding tears was something Eskel usually associated with significant pain—rage, grief, remorse, indignation—an open wound that took time and tending to heal. This wasn't like that, though. This was a scratch. Simple, uncomplicated pain: he was sad. Eskel couldn't remember the last time he'd cried because he was just... sad. Decades ago, he imagined, though he couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. It was something children did before emotions became more complicated. But here he was, sitting on his front steps, crying because he was sad. Eyes streaming, hot and wet down his cheeks because his friends were leaving. Just a scratch.

He felt silly, crying over something so inconsequential— and a man as touch-needy as Eskel, bearlike as he was, was left with the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a rather long time.

It's not that they didn't have friends, of course, and he would talk to them later that night. He was helping to plan their wedding for chrissake, it's not like they would never speak again. But proximity to other people was something that had grown increasingly scarce, and Eskel—bearlike as he was—had the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a while. 

Lambert and Aiden had an uncomplicated relationship with affection that always freed Eskel from the burden of second-guessing the odd touch to a shoulder or elbow. So many others had different personal spaces, many of which had expanded recently. Eskel was happy to respect, and accommodate, but Eskel always felt most himself when he could be affectionate with the people he cared about, and with those two gone, it suddenly felt as though a part of his identity was being forced back into shadow and shyness.

Eskel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he sniffed loudly before answering. "Yup? Geralt, hi. Yeah, they just-just left. I'm ok-I'm okay. You know. Goodbyes are never easy. How's the conference? Heh. Good, good. Tell him I send my regards... Listen, I should get to work. No, I’m okay, I'll call you later... Will do. I l— I love you, too, hon. Buh-bye.” 

Eskel hung up the phone and stared quietly at the bird feeder for a few more minutes before going back inside, feeling as though something in the cosmos had shifted. 

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 34

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 33

Next Chapter: To be posted

Magic was everywhere in the land of the thief of souls. It was different than the land in between. The land in between was weaker, but wilder. Magic floated into its own direction, taking the shape it desired and bending to Lucie’s will with relative ease.

Magic in the realm of the thief was gripped by a firm hand, forced into subjugation by a powerful force, the thief itself. But walking through this land, Lucie had learnt a secret. Just like Lucie herself, magic didn’t like to be controlled. It liked to roam free, it liked chaos.

She could sense the thief. He kept all magic in an iron grip. But he did not belong here, he never had, and although he’d subjugated the magic, it didn’t love him and didn’t want him. Lucie could use that to her advantage. If she lost, the magic would continue to be kept under his grip. If she won, it would be free again. The magic favored her. The thief must have found this place a long time ago and made his home here, collecting souls for his growth and his power, but he did not belong here.

‘He was here when I saw him,’ Alastair said, pointing at one of the corridors.

Lucie shook her head. ‘No, I can feel him. He’s somewhere in that direction.’

Lucie followed her senses until they made it into the courtyard, where a man was sitting on a bench, in conversation with a soul. She guessed she should have expected a soul would be there too, but it would be alright. None of them really wanted to be here, did they? Even if they collaborated with him, or sought to improve their own fate. She wondered how many she could turn against him.

He was wearing his antlers right now, looked a lot like the monster from her dreams, but his eyes were normal and if it weren’t for the antlers he might have looked like an ordinary mortal man. Someone who’d come here because he wanted to never die and gain immeasurable power, yes, but mortal.

‘I was wondering when you’d come here to challenge me, Lucie,’ the thief said with a grin. ‘Just like your mother. You need not worry, I’m still sealed. But this is my realm, and I have the power here.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Lucie hissed.

Cordelia drew her sword, Alastair had his dagger gripped tightly, ready to attack. Thomas didn’t have any weapons, and Lucie still wondered if they should have left him outside.

‘Alastair, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here so soon,’ the thief added. ‘You have found your love, and not much time left to save him. So much for loyalty, I guess.’

‘Why set him free and die, when killing you would set us both free?’ Alastair asked, with that wicked smile Lucie remembered from school.

‘We made a deal, Alastair. You promised me your soul.’

‘I promised you my soul, yes. But not my loyalty. Our deal doesn’t hold if you’re dead. None of them do.’

The thief was caught off guard by Alastair’s betrayal and Cordelia took the opportunity to run at him with her sword.

‘Stop her!’ the thief yelled at the female soul.

The soul jumped up, putting herself in front of Cordelia. She didn’t carry any weapons, and Cordelia easily slashed her down. She didn’t appear hurt, there was no blood, nothing, yet she fell to the floor.

‘Get back up!’ the thief yelled at her and she did.

Lucie got a sense of how this worked. The souls couldn’t die, they were already dead, but cortana did weaken them and push them out of the way. The thief had to command them to give them new energy, and it was Lucie’s turn to command the souls, to grip at his source of power and take it away. She opened her bag and snatched a piece of dextrose from her bag, shoving it into her mouth. She would need every bit of energy she could get.

‘I command you to stand down,’ she yelled at the ghost.

The soul obeyed, standing awkwardly, unable to move. She wasn’t sure how long she could on, but it seemed like the thief had given up on this soul. Instead, he jumped out of the way from Cordelia’s attack and held up his arms in the sky.

Souls came barging in, so many of them. They all moved in Cordelia’s direction.

‘Stop that!’ Lucie yelled. ‘Do not attack Cordelia.’

‘I am your master!’ the thief yelled back.

Lucie could feel his power, and fought against it. He was strong, but she had the will of the souls on her side. She could promise them freedom. She guessed at this point some of them did not understand what that would mean. Lucie didn’t either, but she was certain it would be better than this. Perhaps they would be reunited with loved ones who had died a long time ago, perhaps they would get another chance at life. To many of them, it didn’t matter. Lucie offered hope for something better, and that gave her the upper hand when trying to control the ghosts.

It was draining, more than Lucie could imagine, and she began to understand why her mother had slept for a 130 years after sealing the thief. She reached for another piece of dextrose. It worked, if only a little. It was so tempting to just let go, to give up and acknowledge there was only so much she could do, but as long as she held back the souls, Cordelia stood a chance. Watching him jump out of Cordelia’s reach, using the occasional soul as a human shield made Lucie suspect that while his magic was extra ordinary, he was not trained in combat.

Would he be able to disappear, could he travel across his realm? She’d thought she’d seen Tatiana teleport, but really she just traveled between the different realms. If she traveled someplace else it looked like she disappeared, but she couldn’t travel to different spots on the same plane. Could the thief? Lucie suspected he could, that if he lost this fight he would run before Cordelia could deliver the killing blow.

Lucie wouldn’t let that happen. She opened her bottle of too sweet lemonade and drank half of it before picturing a wall of power, trapping them all in the courtyard. She didn’t doubt the thief would be able to break it down eventually, but if he tried then he would give up on the ghosts and Cordelia could kill him. Lucie had to let go of them for a moment, to build her magic wall. No one would enter, no one would leave, at least as long as her wall lasted. The ghosts were back under the thief’s control and attacked Cordelia with skill and vehemence the thief himself did not possess.

Thomas and Alastair were fighting too, but from this distance Lucie couldn’t be sure they were helping Cordelia, or being controlled themselves. Would it make a difference that Alastair wasn’t his yet? Lucie couldn’t be sure, she didn’t know what was happening exactly. Instead, she focused on her wall, finishing it so the thief would not break it down in time, so Cordelia could kill him.

Cordelia was fighting the souls, striking them back, but there were too many of them. It left her no opening to go for the thief. Lucie would have to win those souls back soon.

***

Cordelia didn’t know why Lucie had lost control of the ghosts. She assumed she must have lost control, which meant there was no time to lose. Alastair was fighting her too, but she could tell he was holding back. He had not drawn his dagger against her.

‘He can control me,’ Alastair fought to say. ‘Didn’t realize that would happen so soon.’

The thief laughed. ‘You fool. You’re mine. You were mine the moment you made that deal. You never would have found your way out, and now you won’t save your loved one either.’

Cordelia couldn’t reach the thief protected by too many souls. That was the problem, all of the souls were decent fighters, and Cordelia had to fight with all she had to hold them off. They didn’t stay down long. The thief had to revive them, but he could. They were dead, of course. You couldn’t kill something that was already dead. She could see her brother fighting to restrain himself, a sight that filled her with rage.

‘He’s not yours!’ she yelled at the thief. ‘He’s mine! He’s mine!’

The thief only laughed. ‘He gave himself to me. He chose his fate, now it’s time I sealed yours.’

The souls slowed their pace, many gave up the battle, no longer under his control. Cordelia could fight the remaining few off. Lucie was back at it, with a newfound determination to keep the souls away from her. The thief was straining against her, and the circle of souls protecting him was still there, but many of the souls stood still, aimless. Alastair grinned, dagger in hand, as he attacked the souls protecting the thief. He wasn’t fast enough on his own, the souls regained their position faster than he could cut them down, but if Cordelia helped him they could win.

She ran to Alastair, to the circle of souls he could not keep up with, and started slashing at the souls, paving a way for Alastair to run through, lashing out at the thief of souls with all he had. One of the souls grabbed Alastair, pulling him back, but Cordelia slashed at the being until it was forced to let go, dragging Alastair’s dagger along with it.

Her brother didn’t have the time to pick it back up, instead he attacked the thief himself, experienced in hand to hand combat as well. He wouldn’t kill the thief this way, but Cordelia understood what he was trying to do. She had the sword, she could kill him.

Something odd happened. Cordelia couldn’t be sure what it was. He disappeared for a second before appearing right in the same spot, a distraught expression on his face. What was he trying to do? He had failed at something, hadn’t he?

Cordelia moved forward, this was her chance. Alastair pushed him onto the ground. The thief struggled against him, and then he changed. A moment later she was faced with two Alastairs, fighting each other, rolling on the ground. The thief not only looked like Alastair, he fought like him too, and it didn’t take long for Cordelia to lose track of which was which.

‘Kill him, Cordelia!’ one of the two called to her.

It was Alastair’s voice, it sounded like him. But could she be sure?

‘No, kill the other one. That’s not me!’ the other Alastair called at her.

She couldn’t go by voice then, it was the same. He mimicked Alastair so well… A question, she needed to ask him a question only the real Alastair could answer. The thief couldn’t know his secrets, could he?

‘Hurry up, Layla!’ one of the two Alastairs yelled.

Layla… Would the thief know? Alastair called her that often, theoretically he could know… One of the two was holding the dagger, the second holding it off where everything he had. One had picked it up from the ground then, but was it Alastair or the thief.

‘How can I tell which one is real?’ Cordelia yelled, sword ready to attack when she realized which one she’d have to kill. Knowing that if she chose wrong, she might kill her own brother. She didn’t know what would happen, it was his soul but not his body, but it was not a risk she was willing to take.

‘The thief wouldn’t know about my calling you Layla,’ the one holding the dagger yelled.

‘Of course he does,’ the one lying on the ground, fighting him off yelled. He tried to wrestle the dagger away from the other one, but they seemed so evenly matched. It was as if the thief hadn’t just shifted into Alastair, he had become him. ‘Mãmãn gave you that nickname. When you were five, you were sick with pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital. Mâmân and I stayed with you, and we read you from Layla and Majnun. You loved it so much…’ Alastair hit the other one in the face in an attempt to stop the attack from the one pinning him to the ground.

The other Alastair continued the story. ‘You wanted to be Layla then. So we called you that, and we have for years. Well, mâmân saves it for special occasions, but for me it became a habit to call you Layla.’

This wasn’t working. The thief somehow had found a way into Alastair’s mind, and whatever she asked, they would both give her the same answer.

‘He didn’t shift. He became me!’ the Alastair underneath called. ‘Kill him now, Layla!’

Cordelia hesitated. ‘Lucie, Thomas! What do I do? Who do I kill?’

‘Can’t help you, Daisy!’ Lucie yelled. ‘And I can’t hold off the souls much longer. They’re too close together to follow the energy, I can’t tell which one is the thief. You have to make a decision.’

Thomas came to stand beside her. ‘They’re not the same exactly. Almost, but not quite. Like with old movies where you can see the lines of the special effects.’

Cordelia shook her head. ‘I don’t see a thing.’

‘I could see through illusions before. This is not an illusion exactly, but there are traces of the original thief there. I think it’s my sight. The real Alastair is the one being pinned down right now, the one who doesn’t have the dagger. The one holding him down is the thief.’

Cordelia hesitated. ‘Thomas, I need you to be absolutely sure.’

‘He’s a good shapeshifter, but not good enough. There’s a shadow of his antlers. Trust me.’

‘How do I know he’s not making you say that?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Listen to him, Daisy!’ Lucie shouted. ‘Thomas is under my control. And hurry, I’m all out of sweets and I cannot hold on.’

Cordelia didn’t hesitate anymore, she ran to her brother and pushed the thief off of him. He shifted back into his own shape, a man with antlers and glowing red eyes.

‘I always did underestimate the sight,’ he hissed. ‘Oh well. I know your secrets now, Layla.’

The way he called her Layla made Cordelia’s stomach twist. He had no right.

‘It’s a dark place, your brother’s mind. I quite like it. And I know how you fight now.’

Cordelia swung cortana at him, but he jumped out of the way in a move she and Alastair had often practiced together. Being her brother, even if only temporary, had taught him something about how she fought, and how to fight himself.

One of the souls attacked her from behind. Cordelia only realized when Alastair stabbed it with his dagger. He’d gotten it back just in time. The thief was unarmed now, but Lucie’s control was slipping. Now or never.

Cordelia trusted Alastair to keep any remaining souls out of her way and she ran for him. He wouldn’t escape this time, he wouldn’t jump out of the way. She knew what Alastair would have done, and was prepared for the thief to do the same. She didn’t let him, cutting off his escape route and changing the direction of her sword at the last minute, slashing the sword through his arm and then his chest.

He looked surprisingly human as he fell, red blood gushing out, but not for long. Not all monsters were like that. Her father had told her stories of black blood, or pale, watery blood. The thief had been mortal once. This place had changed him, sustained him for much longer than should have been possible. It ended so easily.

He was dead before he hit the ground. As he fell, something changed in the air. Cordelia couldn’t put her finger on it, but the realm had changed. She turned around, walked to Lucie, Alastair and Thomas. Lucie was breathing hard, leaning against the wall.

‘You did it. He’s dead, and the realm is free.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘The souls are still here. How do we let them go?’

‘That is not for you to worry about.’

Cordelia did not recognize the voice behind her. It rose from underneath the ground, chains shattering as it formed. A man, wearing dark robes, face obscured by a hood, and carrying a scythe.

‘A reaper,’ Alastair whispered. ‘He kept a reaper here.’

‘When so many souls did not return from here, I went to investigate. He caught me by surprise, and my imprisonment allowed him to keep collecting souls unbothered. Now that he’s dead, I am free and I can bring these souls over.’

‘To the other side?’ Lucie asked.

‘You may control the dead on this side, no mortal can know what lies beyond,’ the reaper said. ‘That is a secret kept by my kind. You will all learn when your times come, but none of you are among the dead. Although two of you are close.’

‘What is this place?’ Thomas asked. ‘It wasn’t always his world, was it?’

‘It is a place to forget,’ the reaper said. ‘Souls who struggle to move on may remain on earth, and many do for some time, but many come here. This place helps them forget, to adapt to what they need to be. The living make their way here every once in a while. That is rare, but normal. They return with power, forever changed. Your power will grow from this experience, Lucie. And it is quite magnificent already. As for the rest of you, I cannot tell what this realm will do to you. For too long the man you knew as the thief of souls kept this land’s magic in an iron grip, distributing it as he saw fit. Now it roams free. All of you will be able to return here when you wish. But be careful with how long you stay. It can be that years pass while you are here, time is always difficult.’

‘That’s how the thief became immortal, wasn’t it? He just stayed here,’ Lucie said.

‘He became one with the magic of this place, keeping it all in his control. It wasn’t meant to be that way. Now that I am free, it won’t be controlled like that again. You must return home. Two of you are here with their soul only while the body lives, but its state is fragile. You might still die. Thank you for freeing me, the reapers will recognize you all as heroes.’

‘What of the creatures of this realm?’ Lucie asked. ‘They have attacked us in the past.’

‘They were under his control. Now they’re not. They are wild creatures, and can be dangerous, but they will not spill into your world as easily. You should be safe.’

‘So the world won’t need a hero anymore?’ Cordelia asked.

The reaper’s face was grim. ‘The world will always have use for a hero. This is not the only evil, nor the only place where dangerous creatures come from. Now go home, before it is too late.’

[phantomwarrior12]

A Time To Know Your Enemy

It's been a week since your escapade with the demons and all this time, Sam and Dean have been trying to get Crowley to pick up his phone.

There's been no cases, no indications of anything divine, hell-spawned or even remotely creepy in that time and you're beginning to go stir-crazy. So, between aimless "supply runs", you've occupied yourself with the ribbon Gabriel had left you. You often lose yourself in the foreign, yet eloquent lettering that flows along it's silken threads in a tongue you can't even begin to understand. Your thumb traces along the letters, the ache in your chest longing to know what secrets it holds. Of course, you won't chance Sam and Dean finding out about your little fib - the elaborate tale of your escape - but you haven't been able to get a moment alone with Cas to ask him to translate the writing for you.

It's maddening. You'd forgotten how much the Winchesters stuck to the angel's side. So, you make due, trying not to lose hope as you skim through Bobby's library for a book on Enochian translations. You'd thought you had the house to yourself, the boys having gone on a supply run and Cas? Well, you're pretty sure Bobby had taken the poor angel out back to shoot him with all his condescending remarks and blatant inability to grasp basic human concepts. In any case, you're dying to know what Gabriel wrote and very little will deter you.

Very little except being caught in the act of rifling through Bobby's bottom drawer.

"What in Sam hell are you doing, Y/N?

You tense, glancing over your shoulder at Bobby and the confused angel, "Bobby, I--"

"I'd pick those words very carefully, and what comes out of those lips better not be a lie to so help me--"

"I was looking for a book on Enochian translations." You hold your hands up in mock surrender.

"What the hell for?"

"The...sigils. The markings on my arm. I want to know what they mean," you hope you sound more convincing than you feel.

"I translated them already," Castiel tilts his head, it's almost as adorable as Gabriel's--

"I wanted to try it for myself. See if there's anything we can use for warding," you nod quickly.

"Well, you're out of luck, Sam and Dean have the Enochian book with them. You'll have to make due with this," he gestures vaguely towards Castiel, "hopeless excuse for an ally."

Castiel's brows draw together in confusion, his mouth opening slightly as if he were to protest, but for what reason, he doesn't quite know.

"Y'know, that's a great idea, Bobby," you close the drawer and straighten up, "Might as well go right to the source."

You feel his skeptical gaze as you move towards the angel and hook your arm through his, guiding him towards the front door, "Thanks, Bobby. Sorry about the mess."

"Buncha idjits," is the last thing you hear before you pull the door shut and lead Castiel towards the junkyard.

"What's going on, Y/N?"

"I have a favor to ask of you, Cas." Your free hand rests on the ribbon in your jacket, studying the angel's features.

"Of course. What is it?" He tilts his head curiously as you tug him to a halt behind a particularly large truck.

"You have to promise me you won't tell the boys." You glance back towards the house.

"You have my word," the angel assures you with a gentle nod and it's enough for your impatient ass to tug the ribbon from your jacket pocket.

"Can you translate this?" You hold it out slowly, almost as if you're terrified to part with it. As if releasing the elegant blue ribbon will mean you're letting go of the archangel.

Castiel accepts the ribbon and the shift in his expression draws yours hands level with your ribs, wringing your hands together nervously.

"What does it say?" You rock on your heels, y/e/c trained on his features.

"It's an incantation."

"A - what?"

"Where did you say that you got this?" He asks after a moment of reading the script silently.

"...Gabriel."

Castiel looks halfway startled, "When?"

"I found it in my jacket...the one I wore to the bar that night. He must have left it there, I just didn't think to look," you lie quickly, staring at him anxiously.

He gazes at you skeptically, quirking an eyebrow as he tilts his head in annoyance, "Right. Well, the incarnation is for a spell of some sort. I'm entirely certain of its purpose...there is something else--"

"What?" You step a little closer, your own eyes searching the angel's rapidly.

His gaze falls back to the ribbon, "It says...he expects that thank you next time the two of you meet...given his word choice, it's fairly suggestive, Y/N."

You force back the blush creeping into your cheeks and for a moment, there's a fleeting spark singing along the nerves in your knee where the archangel has rested his hand. You swallow the lump in your throat as you pluck the ribbon from Castiel's hand, ignoring his studious gaze as you summon more composure than you feel.

"Thanks, Cas. You're an absolute angel," you give the confused angel a tight squeeze before moving around the truck and towards the house.

Behind you, you could swear you heard a faint, "That is what I am."

You tuck the ribbon back into the safety of your jacket pocket, fingers still curled around the silken threads as you climb the steps. You need to learn Enochian and fast.

It's the only way you're ever going to get any answers out of that elusive archangel.

------------------------

"Hello, boys."

The graveled voice of Hell's King captures your attention as you lift your gaze from the Enochian book in your hands.

"Crowley. About damn time you showed up. Where the hell have you been?" Dean glares at the demon with a look of irritation and disgust.

"On vacation. Avoiding assassins and all that, or have you forgotten?" Crowley snorts, inspecting the array of whiskey bottles on the counter.

"Oh, I remember." Dean starts to make his way towards Crowley before Sam steps in.

"Crowley, Y/N was attacked by two demons a few weeks ago. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The demon casts a glance towards you, studying your features until you look away, "Well, they certainly weren't mine. My demons have a big more class than crude torture," he smirks, pouring himself a drink, "Abbadon does have a bone to pick with you two, I'd look there first."

"You don't have to be so damned smug about it," Bobby retorts, watching you shift in your seat.

Crowley snorts indelicately, "Frankly I'm offended you'd think I'd sick my demons on the only allies I have."

"We're not allies." Dean bites back sharply.

"No? How about lovers?" Crowley returns without missing a beat and Dean sets his jaw.

Sam tightens his hold on his elder brother's shoulder before meeting the demon's gaze once more, "Do you know where to find her?"

"If I did, I'd have killed the bitch already, wouldn't I?" He returns as he takes a sip from his glass.

"How do we kill her?" You speak at last, flicking a few stray strands of y/h/c away from your eyes. Your gaze holds a certain amount of sternness, a confidence that demands respect from the King of Hell.

"Sassy. I like her," Crowley flashes a grin at the boys before taking a few steps towards you, no doubt noting the square of your shoulders, "You're going to need an old relic from Heaven's armory."

"And how do we do that? Heaven isn't exactly easy to get into." You returns calmly, studying his features skeptically.

"That's your problem."

"What's the relic?" Dean interjects in exasperation, shrugging off Sam's hand.

"The Sceptor of Gabriel, rumored to be the one thing that can contain a Knight of Hell...as for killing her? That's going to require a little more commitment."

Your frame goes rigid at the mention of the archangel, your fingers brushing absently over the invisible markings along your arm. 

"We'll discuss the permanent solution later. For now, that sceptor is going to have to be located," Sam steps in, drawing your gaze to him.

"I'll get ahold of Cas, he'll know where to start." Dean pulls out his phone and starts from the room.

"Well, if that's all I'm needed for," Crowley tosses a look towards you, noting the subtle glow beneath your sleeve, "Enochian sigils, eh? You're certainly important to someone. Is it dear little Cas?"

"That's none of your business," Bobby snaps, stepping up beside you, "We'll let you know if we need you. Now git."

Crowley makes a face of mock offense before setting the glass down on the counter, "Rude." A snap of the fingers and he's gone.

You lift your eyes to Bobby and offer an appreciative smile, "Thanks, Bobby."

He waves you off, "idjit needs to be reminded of his place."

"Cas says we'll have to track down Balthazar. He thinks the sceptor might be one of the items he took when he fled heaven," Dean steps back into the kitchen.

"Guess we're going on a road trip," Sam sighs.

"Get your gear, we're leaving in the morning."

You offer a solemn nod as you stand and make your way towards your bedroom. Your hand finds the familiar threads of the ribbon in your pocket and your fingers trace along the delicate lettering. You take a seat on your bed, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

And like a whisper in your ear, you hear his voice. He's not there, but the warmth that flourishes across your skin stems from his engravings and you can breathe again as you lay back and let the warmth soothe your nerves.

It's going to be alright, sugar. I'll be there when you need me.

"You better."

---------------------------

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[kindkindling]

crying for help

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

pairing: mason/nb detective (Billie Vale)

rating: T, swearing and vague mentions of sex

warnings: BOOK 3 DEMO SPOILERS.

words: ~2.6k

summary: The detective needs to work some things out, and Ava is there to help.

ao3

You up?

I am. Is something wrong, Detective?

If I come to the Warehouse, will you spar with me?

---

The detective came at Ava once more, but they had been at this for hours now and their fatigue was showing; she easily dodged the incoming blow and deftly swept her leg under theirs, tumbling them to the mat with a thump.

Ava watched solemnly as Billie lay still, their chest heaving, not having even broken a sweat herself.

Something was obviously wrong. Billie hadn't spoken a word since they began sparring — each attempt Ava made to figure out what the issue was had been rebuffed with a shake of their head and a silent prompt to make another move, exhaustion and determination equally evident in their narrowed eyes. After the third time, she gave up and resorted to critiquing their technique instead, correcting their form and motions.

Something was wrong, but there was only so much she could do about it if the detective was unwilling to share the details.

As Billie slowly pushed themself up on hands and knees, arms shaking and still chasing the breath they couldn't catch, Ava decided enough was enough.

"We'll stop here."

The detective, predictably, shook their head without looking up, even as their sweat dripped to the floor; but Ava's patience had worn thin. They were in no state to continue, and she suspected they knew it.

"Yes, we will," she growled. She marched to the bench and grabbed Billie's water; when she returned, they had at least moved to sit cross-legged, leaning back on their hands as they tried to breathe deep. She handed them the bottle and sat next to them, silently watching as they downed half of it in one go.

It was known amongst Unit Bravo that the detective would sometimes head to the station in the middle of the night to work, though what could possibly require that level of attention in this quiet little town was beyond Ava. Truthfully, she had initially been pleased enough to accept Billie's proposition — it was a simple task to adjust the patrol routes so that whoever was out could check to see where Billie was each night, but she would definitely prefer that they stay put, and there was nowhere safer for the detective than the Warehouse — but looking over them now, she would be hard pressed to say that sparring was the better option for them right now.

They looked worn, and not just from the training. Their short brown hair had grown shaggy and somewhat dull since the team started working with them, and the bags under their eyes were only becoming more prominent as time passed. Their body sagged like every burden that had been placed on them as of late was slowly sinking them into the earth with each step, yet they refused to set even one of them down.

Their dedication to their duty was admirable, but it was clearly taking its toll, and something needed to change.

Billie recapped the bottle when they finished and stared at the floor, steadfastly avoiding Ava's gaze. Finally, after a few moments of struggle, they managed to find their voice and gave a strained, raspy, "Thank you."

"Of course." Ava hesitated, then said, "Will you tell me now what is wrong?"

They let out a long sigh before shoving their glasses up into their hair and covering their face with their hands. "It's nothing, really. I just... My thoughts were a bit much to handle tonight. Usually I would go get some work done, but..."

"...It would be a poor idea given the current situation with the bounty?" Ava ventured. At Billie's nod, she continued. "I agree. There is no reason to put yourself in more danger than is necessary. Although," she leaned forward, "you must realize that wearing yourself ragged like this will not make you of much use come the morning."

"Heh," Billie huffed and fell backward, spreading their arms wide across the floor. "It'll be alright. This isn't far off from how I'd've felt if I'd stayed at the apartment, except I personally feel a bit more accomplished."

Ava frowned. "Can you not designate some of your duties to the other officers? You seem to have quite a lot on your plate, even without your responsibilities for the Agency."

"Not really," they hummed. "It's pretty much just me and Tina, and she's already got her fair share to deal with; there's nothing urgent enough to warrant pulling her from her own tasks. And it..." they seemed to stall out for a moment, chewing on the words, their narrow gaze turned to the ceiling. "If I didn't have the work to do, I would be stuck at the apartment, just spinning my wheels in the dark, worrying about this and that. So it's better this way, to be occupied."

Without giving her a chance to respond, Billie stood with a grunt and dusted off their clothes. "Anyway, thanks for your help tonight. I'll try not to bother you for it again," they said with a wry grin.

"Detective!" She barked. They flinched as they turned to leave, and Ava mentally cursed her tone as she rose to her feet. "My apologies, but you do realize you are not alone in any of this, don't you? You are a part of this team, and any one of us would aid you, should you ask."

Billie stared back at her incredulously, meeting her eyes for the first time this entire conversation, and Ava realized just how anxious they must have been to have asked to meet.

"What has you worried?" She asked softly.

They pressed their lips and folded their arms, shrinking into themself a bit, fingers tapping an aimless rhythm on their forearm as they seemed to consider answering. For a long moment, Ava thought they would lapse back into the silence that had taken them during their training, but they eventually sighed and spoke.

"There's a couple things," they chuckled humorlessly. "I know it was determined that... that Murphy isn't likely to come back any time soon. But that doesn't stop me from wondering about it when I hear my neighbors thumping around late at night, you know?"

Ava stepped forward to rest her hand firmly on Billie's shoulder. "The Agency is much better prepared now for any assaults from Murphy or supernaturals like him than they were before. And you have us watching over you as well; suffice to say, even should Murphy return, he will not succeed no matter what he may try."

"I know." They smiled, but it was stretched thin and tight, like they were close to cracking. "But unfortunately, knowing something isn't likely doesn't stop my feelings from going haywire."

"You are always welcome to stay here, if that would help," Ava offered. "You do have a room, after all. This space is as much yours as it is ours."

She felt Billie's shoulder tense under her hand at her words and heard their heartbeat stutter. Before she could make an inquiry, however, the words started pouring out of the detective like a waterfall.

"Ah, no, I think — I think I'll be alright, that won't be necessary, in fact I think it's getting to be pretty early, isn't it, gosh it really is, so I should probably head out actually, but, um, thanks again for all your help, I do appreciate it, genuinely —"

"Detective," Ava said, gently, and Billie's non-stop tirade puttered out like a hose shutting off, their gaze dropping to the floor.

"It's just, I — I don't think that's something I can do. For a while, not forever, just... just for now," they finished weakly.

Ava crossed her arms and considered this. "It would inarguably be safer for you to be here at night than at your apartment or the station. Are you sure?"

Billie drew back and their eyes met Ava's once more — any determination they had held before was gone now, and only the exhaustion remained. "It's for the best, I think."

Ava sighed. "I will not force it force it on you; our patrols should be sufficient regardless. But I cannot help but ask... have we done something to warrant your distrust?"

"Oh, no, no no no!" Billie exclaimed, their hands waving in the air almost comically. "Not at all! You're all terrific, no complaints here! It's — it's just, it's... me."

"It's you?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Even if you were not one of us, it is our job to protect you, Detective. Your blood puts us in no more danger —"

"Ugh, no, that's not what I mean," they groaned. Ava didn't think they could make themself any smaller, yet Billie somehow managed it. "It's... Can you promise not to tell the rest of the team about this? It's kind of personal."

"You have my word."

"I... I can't be around Mason right now," they mumbled.

"Mason?" Ava's eyes widened and narrowed in quick succession. "What did he do?"

"It's not what he did, it's more what I did... or what I made him think, I suppose, and now everything's changed, and I don't think I should be around him if I'm just going to keep on doing this..." Billie trailed off, hugging themself tightly.

"Start from the beginning, please."

They gave a deep sigh. "You remember when we left the Warehouse together the other day, right? When he escorted me to the station?" She nodded. "Well, we went to breakfast, and it was... nice. We had a — a moment, I guess you could say."

They turned their face away as if to hide their embarrassment, but it only made the flush on their ears more apparent; Ava might have found it humorous were the circumstances different, and she herself were not growing more uncomfortable with the direction of the story.

"But then Haley — you've met her, the baker at the square — she came over and said she didn't know I was... seeing anyone. Mason said that I — that I'm 'only seeing him naked. There's nothing else going on here.' And that was — it hurt, and I kind of... ran out on him."

Ava did her best to contain the longest suffering sigh that had ever threatened to escape her, and she thought she did a damn good job of it. Dealing with Mason's 'problems' had always been near the top of the list of Things She Has Been Forced to Deal With and Would Rather Delegate to Nat, but this was the first time that she could recall where the problem was not his callous nature, but his own brand of naivety.

She held up a hand as if to pause her own thoughts. "You made it sound as if this were your fault. How did you come to that conclusion?"

"It's because I'm a damn fool," they said, immediately and so full of conviction that Ava almost reeled. "I knew when we first started this that it didn't mean anything. That it was just fun, something to help keep my mind off how the world had turned upside down. And that was fine, I didn't want anything more, I didn't expect it, because I... I didn't let myself.

"I convinced myself at every turn that it was what I wanted, because it was what he wanted, and if I wanted something else, something... more, then we would have to stop, because that wouldn't be fair, not to either of us." Billie's eyes were gleaming as if they were fighting back tears, and Ava felt a pang in her heart at the sight. "And it looks like I did a good enough job, yeah? Because even if I didn't manage to stop myself from being an idiot, I've convinced Mason that I don't give a damn about him aside from his body. And that was the goal, wasn't it, to keep it as this casual thing?"

The tears won their fight and spilled over, but Billie kept on. "To hell with how he kept me from losing my mind when the Maa-alused attacked me in my apartment, right? And how he can keep me from spiraling further into a mess just by being in the same fucking room, that's a normal thing for a friend with benefits, isn't it? How I can look at him and just feel this, this resolve settle in my chest and straighten my spine, make me feel like I can do anything, just because this one person believes that I can?" They were yelling by the end, their hand over their heart, knees trembling, and Ava had to catch them as they collapsed from the exertion.

"I can't, Ava," they cried into her shirt, "I can't see him right now, I can't."

She held Billie close and let them wail, making small, calming noises as she tried to soothe them. It had been a long, long time since Ava had last done this for anyone, but it still seemed to do the trick; it took a while, but eventually their heaving breaths slowed and their cries turned to sniffles.

"Think you got it all out?" She asked.

Billie huffed as they withdrew from her grasp and straightened out their shirt. Their eyes were puffy and their cheeks ruddy, but their heartbeat was settling down. "Think so."

"Good. Are you willing to listen now?"

They nodded, wiping their eyes and moving their glasses back into place.

"You are right about one thing: you're a fool."

"Well, thanks for that, at least," they mumbled, their voice still raspy.

"Not for having these emotions, but for going through such convoluted leaps to convince yourself otherwise," Ava said. "Truly, it is dizzying trying to follow you."

That got a chuckle out of them, which she considered a success.

"And do you truly believe that Mason feels nothing for you in return?"

"I mean — I've thought, at times, that maybe..."

"I cannot speak for him, but I can say that, in all my years of knowing him and how he acts and how he treats those he engages with, I have never seen him treat any of them with the level of respect that he treats you."

Ava stood and held out a hand to help Billie up; as they stood next to her, she added, "And I have never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

"Oh, Ava, please don't — please don't try to give me hope here, I don't think I can take it."

"That is not my intention," she said, using a hand to start pushing them toward the door. "I am merely giving you facts that you may not have been able to consider in all your astounding leaps of logic."

They gave Ava a small, genuine smile at the training room's entryway, their mood having finally lifted somewhat. "Thank you, Ava. Really."

"It is no issue," Ava said. "Now, go get your car ready."

"Huh?"

"You are in no state to drive yourself, so I will take you home. I would suggest calling in sick today, but of course that is up to your discretion."

"Oh no, Ava, you've done more than enough for me tonight, I can — "

"Go, Billie. I will be there momentarily."

Her tone left no room for discussion, so with a final resigned sigh, Billie conceded and walked off down the hallway. Ava watched until they turned the corner and took out their phone, dialing a number she knew by heart and speaking as soon as Nat picked up.

"Did you hear all of that?"

"I did, yes."

"You need to speak with Mason."

"I'm already on it."

[rwbyremnants]

NOTE: Car sex, cunnilingus.

WOW, I can't believe after so long between updates it's finally all up! Hope you guys enjoyed the ride and are happy that Ruby and Winter figured it all out. Again, I know sometimes this account goes quiet even though I'm always writing; I just can't always find the time to set aside to edit and update the fics. It won't be right away but I can tell you that the next installment of the White Noise universe is definitely coming someday. Until then, see you in the other fics!

-NBW

=Chapter 11

Once the newly happy couple entered the conservatory, it became too crowded to talk about their private affairs. Everyone was sat around in the living room, surrounding Weiss who took the middle of the sofa with Yang at her side. Blake and Sun had made it, and they were lingering near Yang. There was still no sign of Qrow, Taiyang or Penny yet. They must have been more held up than they thought. Even if people were still engaged in their own conversations rather than fully focusing on their host, it was still too risky.

But that didn't stop Ruby standing in place by Winter's side, idly brushing their hands by one another. Not holding, but enough to make her presence known.

"Okay, I guess we're ready!" Weiss was announcing as Winter hooked her own pinky around Ruby's. No one would have noticed how nervous she was unless they were close to her - either physically or emotionally. Nervous, yet excited.

"Hang on," Blake said, holding up her phone and aiming the camera at Weiss. "Okay, ready!"

"Open Yang's! It's sappy!" Ruby called across the crowd loudly, knowing it would definitely be heard on the recording.

It was a small haul of presents in comparison to previous years, but no one particularly minded. Both the hosts understood that many of their guests either didn't know what to get or couldn't afford much – and they themselves had insisted nobody break the bank. It made the cards reviewed all the more special, which Weiss had Yang display by the fireplace right away.

Nearly an hour later, everyone had gathered at the dinner table. Weiss put the various presents to one side but insisted on wearing the bracelet. While agreeing it was sappy, she loved it – just as both Ruby and Yang suspected she would. Yang and Weiss were sat at one end, with Fènleng in her high chair at the head of the table. By their side were Sun and Blake, then Neon and Inu, then Winter and Ruby. The rest of the guests were further along, with only a few taking the sofa due to lack of space at the table. Everyone took what they wanted from the buffet of sandwiches and snacks, complimenting Neon and Yang who had put it all together on this occasion.

Ruby sometimes managed to give Winter a shy wave. There was still no sign of Penny just yet. But while things were up in the air with Winter, she assumed that was for the best. They could talk soon.

"You know," Winter said to Neon as she leaned to one side so they could speak more easily, "you two did quite a good job on this spread. If you ever get tired of performing, you could probably try your hand at party planning."

Blowing a loud raspberry, she smirked back toward her. "No way! Any nimrod can spread some mayo on bread’n add some tuna or ham. I just needed to do it a few hundred times!"

"Well, I might think about it! I'm sure as hell still not used to going out and people recognising me on the street, like I’m somebody." Grabbing a few of the cheese sandwiches and some potato chips, Yang looked toward her little sister from across the table. "Don't worry, I put Penny's vegan stuff to the side so she'll have plenty when she gets here. Made it special!"

"Oh, great! She'll really like that!" Ruby grinned straight back, having just put a bratwurst on her plate and adding more chips. "They're still held up, I think… traffic must be bad."

"Sometimes it gets pretty congested," Weiss agreed as she popped a devilled egg into her mouth. "Flying out of Nashville is as miserable as LAX. But you get used to it."

"This tuna is excellent," Blake commented with a smile. "You really went all out."

"Seconded! I'm surprised it hasn’t summoned the real cat yet." Taking a few of the tuna sandwiches for herself, Neon then looked back to Weiss while she prepared her own and some of Fènleng's food. "Hey, where is Xu-Xu anyways?"

But while they had their light, aimless conversations, it seemed Ruby was zoning out for a moment. She had got her food, and simply stared blankly at her plate as she began to eat. Dwelling on Penny being late would do no good for her mood, so eating was a good solution.

And so was something else going on under the table. About a third of the way through her bratwurst, Ruby could feel a sensation sliding up her calf. It was very light, but definitely present; a teasing. As it did so, she could hear Winter answering another question Blake had asked.

"Oh, I'm not much of a pet person. But I might be persuaded to take in a rescue." Her eyes flicked between both her and Ruby. "Perhaps a cat and a dog, if they could play nice with each other."

Swallowing the meat in her mouth, Ruby shuddered with both a mixture of shock and pleasure. She could feel very easily it was Winter's soft foot, teasing her with those pedicured nails. And it began to rise! Then it hit her: Winter's ultimate payback for what happened with her father. She wasn't finished with her just yet, but could balance their debts by winding her up in front of all the guests.

"Really?" Blake was laughing with a wider smile. "Maybe find a cat who wouldn't mind being cat-sat by you until you could adopt one of your own. I could help you with that."

The elder Schnee sister hummed her agreement as the teasing went up to Ruby's knee, tracing tiny circles as it went. "You know, that might be nice. Test if I'm really ready to take on a pet full-time."

Again, her eyes went back to Ruby. Now biting her lip, Ruby waited for what was coming. She had to maintain a mask of calm, not show that she was really flustered. She never considered all these factors when doing it to Winter. No wonder she wanted to get back at her in this way; it would teach her not to underestimate how hard this was to do on the receiving end.

"Ahem!" Sun ejaculated toward Winter in regards to her comments. Assuming they were intended for Blake, he leant forward. "'Ix-nay' on the 'Et stuff-pay', alright? These people are super vanilla!"

Leaning forward herself, Winter's foot disappeared during the action. "Nobody would pick up on what we meant if you weren't drawing more attention to it, Monkey Boy," she hissed. Though she was still smiling; not at all upset, just mildly bemused that Sun had let himself get so easily flustered.

Looking downward got his plate and groaning in annoyance instead, he murmured, "Just shut up and eat your sandwiches."

But Ruby was finally sighing with relief, going back to her sandwich. She assumed that Winter had stopped taunting her, thinking she realised how mean it really was in front of people. That she had enjoyed her revenge.

"Aww, it's okay," Blake was murmuring to Sun very gently, petting his shoulder to soothe him. "But Winter is right in this case; we were just talking about pets. No big deal."

"And a well cared for pet is a happy pet," Winter went on, as her foot resumed its upward progress - this time, starting at the knee and working inward. "Don't worry, I've done a lot of pet-sitting in my time."

"Oh really?” Yang put in. “We'll have to get you to cat-sit Xu-Xu for us, Winter. See, we wanted to take Fènleng to Disneyland sometime soon-"

Yang was immediately cut off by Neon. "Kids her age can barely go on anything!"

"Who said it was just for her?"

But the host's little sister was distracted once more. Forced to release the sandwich which dropped to her plate, she froze up once again. Winter was continuing to wind her up in plain sight. She only hoped that no one was going to notice, somehow.

"Wouldn't mind it a bit," she was saying serenely while pushing her foot further and further between Ruby's thighs, underneath the meager protection her skit offered. "Though Neon does have a point. It might be more fun if you leave Fèn with one of us and just go to Disney yourselves."

"I could never do that!" Weiss gasped out, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder for emphasis. "My little girl, alone, for days at a time?!"

"Babe, didn't you wanna go back on tour for a couple of months next year, though?" Yang laughed. Looking back to Neon and Winter, she smiled. "For her, it would mainly be for pictures. We wanna build lots of memories and make some scrapbooks and stuff. You know, stuff to embarrass her with in front of her friends, or when she brings a date home."

Once the foot pressed home beneath the skirt, however, there was a harsh thud at the table from where Ruby jumped in surprise, knees impacting with the surface above. Either way, it got quite a bit of attention - the opposite of what she wanted. Already her cheeks were glowing.

It was remarkable how real the look of confusion and concern on Winter's face was as she asked, "Are you alright?" Even as the toes resumed their progress, getting so close to the mark again, she was laying her palms on either side of her plate, as if pretending she was about to stand.

"I-I… U-Uh…" By now, Ruby could feel her right up against her panties, pressing inward and taunting her fragile flesh. How was she supposed to respond to that with everyone looking? She didn't have as much self-control as Winter did!

There was nothing else for it. As much as she didn't want to give up and accept her fate, she found herself having to move her chair back slightly. He blush was completely red, enough to give Winter a big enough hint that her efforts were not fruitless. Once out of the foot's reach, she shot an apologetic look over toward Weiss.

"S-sorry, just need the bathroom. Where, uh, was it again?"

"There's one right here on this floor," Weiss said in some confusion. "And downstairs and upstairs, of course. You've been here before, haven't you?"

"Y-yeah… I… Sorry, I forgot. I'm being dumb. E-excuse me!"

And barely even managing to tuck her skirt back down in time, Ruby dashed away from her chair and straight to the bathroom, leaving their guests very confused. Winter had to play it cool. Even with the guilty thrill that shot into her stomach, she had to at least pretend that she had no idea that anything was wrong with Ruby. However, after a full minute had passed, she withdrew her phone from her bosom and sent a quick message.

R u ok?

"Your sister's kinda crazy, Yang." Neon was heard commenting as she went to grab more tuna sandwiches.

"Yeah, but at least she's in better moods now." Yang admitted, looking toward the eldest Schnee with a bright smile. "We got Winter to thank for that."

But after a short moment, there was a buzz through to Winter's phone. A message back.

Fine! I guess I deserved that. But I knew I was gonna end up moaning so I had to leave quick! D:

"Oh, I just… did what I could," Winter said evasively as she began to type back.

You could have stopped me and said it was too much, I just thought it would be fun ; ) I'll help you moan more later

"My sister's so modest," Weiss said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. But she was smirking. "She's so good at reassuring people. The same sister who once convinced me that if I ate a caterpillar, I would have a literal butterfly in my stomach."

"That was ONE time!" Winter said in exasperation as she laid her phone down to take a drink of water. "And I was five, you can hardly blame me!"

While everyone chuckled, Weiss said, "Can't I?"

"Oh, that's bush league compared to the stuff I did." Yang laughed, holding up the hand with her sandwich to gesture along with her story. "When we had our first dog, Ein, Ruby would always try and run around on all fours like him. I told her if she did absolutely everything a dog does, she would be able to turn into one."

"Oh my God, please tell me she didn't whiz on any fire hydrants!" Sun was already laughing halfway through Yang's story, but then came another vibration from Winter's phone.

Honestly I haven't felt up to doing anything so long it's so tempting just to go to town on myself in here o//o

"Nothing like that!" Yang could be heard continuing. "But I looked away for two minutes, then suddenly both Ein and Ruby are rolling in a pool of mud! Dad was so pissed when we got home!"

With a knowing glint in her eye, Blake said in a deceptively-casual tone, "Wow, maybe you should look after Ruby when you look after Xu-Xu, Winter."

"Oh? Oh, I- perhaps so!" Now Winter could feel her own desires returning, but she was well practiced at maintaining a façade; no one else would know she was turned on. Even as she began to casually type…

Not yet. Please? I want to help more… directly. Tell me where to meet u

Here? Really???

But Yang quickly gave Blake a rather playful glare. She might have been oblivious to what Blake was talking about, but assumed it was something else instead. "What are you saying, my sister's a furry or something? Gross."

Another vibration. Ruby had added to her last reply before Winter could type her own: My car.

"Nothing against furries, but if she likes rolling around in the dirt, might be better to have someone putting her on a leash." Again, Blake glanced at Winter with a smirk.

"Well, I think this conversation is taking a turn for the strange," Weiss observed as she reached for another handful of chips to add to her plate. "My sister walking my sister-in-law like a dog! You're weird, Blake."

"Weird, yeah," Blake was muttering while Winter replied to her texts.

Slip out the back and around the house, I'll excuse myself when I can

"Some people are into that," Neon spoke up with a small smirk. In fact, she looked toward not only Weiss who started the conversation, but also occasionally to the woman sat opposite her. The ever-silent Inu.

"For real? People get off on being treated like a dog?" But the more Yang commented on it, the shorter Inu seemed to become as she sank down in her seat, cheeks reddening. Contrary to what the three people at the table who had prior experience in the Clamp assumed, it seemed there was yet another who shared those sorts of interests among them!

But Winter would have to miss that conversation if it went on. She had just received another message:

I'll text Weiss just to tell her I'll be on the phone. Should buy us enough time. I'm headed to the car now, don't keep me waiting or I'll have to start without you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Feeling her heart speed up into her throat, Winter let out a long, beleaguered sigh. Then she texted back a simple “Ok, be there soon” before pushing her chair back, finally putting on the shoe she had dislodged to tease her poor sub.

"I am sorry, I have to take this after all; some business can't wait. Don't worry, I'll just nip out front and take care of it. Excuse me."

But Blake's amber eyes were focused entirely on Winter as she stood. "Well, have fun." It was said flippantly, as if she were being sarcastic, but they both knew she was serious.

"Hurry back!" Weiss bade her as she strode from the table and out the front door. "All this food isn't going to eat itself!"

Due to how much closer the front door was to the car than the back door, Winter actually made it outside first. Therefore, she spent the time slipping off her cardigan and draping it over one arm, strolling lazily toward Ruby's car. Her heart was pounding with excitement, but she didn't dare show it. Not when there was a slim chance someone might glance out the foyer window and spot her dancing like a giddy schoolgirl.

Before Ruby was in sight, the car could be heard unlocking as the lights flashed. Then came one more vibration from the phone.

Just getting my shoes. Get in, seats can be lowered and there's a blanket in the back, be two seconds ; )

Winter blinked down at the message, then pulled the door handle, sliding into the passenger's side. As she closed the door, she began to message back - because it had to be asked.

Where were your shoes before??

I took them off when I first came over. She always keeps the garden clean so I never bothered to put them back on!

But finally, Ruby was in sight walking around the building. She had managed to avoid the gaze of the other guests as she made her way to the car. But just before she got there, she sent one last teasing text.

Surprised you didn't notice actually ; )))))

Biting her lip, Winter wrapped her phone in her cardigan and put it in the back seat, then grabbed the blanket to pull over herself. She waited until the driver's side door opened before she spoke.

"I had other worries on my mind. But… now that you mention it, I do seem to remember spotting some cute little piggies dancing along the floor…"

Quickly shutting the door behind her and locking it, Ruby grinned just as giddily when she looked back to Winter. She could barely even contain herself as she lowered her seat, attempting to create a more comfortable area for their activities.

"I wasn't thinking about it! Not till you started teasing me with yours. You total asshole, by the way!"

"Just thought I'd pay you back," she said with a grin, sliding the blanket so that she could throw it over Ruby, as well. "A little. Not really make you too uncomfortable - at least, I hope I didn't."

"No, it didn't," she assured her. It wouldn’t do to wound their barely-established relationship with misunderstandings. Scootching slightly toward Winter, she shuffled off her own jacket, tossing it to one side. Then started to undo one or two buttons to give Winter more of a view. "Like I said… I'm just so pent up you were about to make me lose my cool. So I'd rather you do that here, in private."

Now that she had been reassured, it seemed Winter wasn't above more teasing. As she watched the buttons open, she muttered, "Didn't want to let on to your big sister that you were all hot and bothered? I can imagine…"

It was certainly helping the situation, making her growl with desire as she felt deep heat brewing between her legs. But that need was becoming more of a priority than any small talk. It had been too long; not only had she enjoyed no sexual contact with Penny since that time in the car, but she had felt no motivation to take care of her urges on her own. But now that they were back with a passion, all she could do was look her dead in the eye.

"Quit teasing me and make me scream already."

As Winter's smile slowly began to fade, she reached over and grasped Ruby, pulling her across the space to lay atop her. A shoe clattered to the floor while she ran her hands up and down her sides, over her hindquarters.

"Ruby, I missed you so fucking much," she growled needily, past the point of caring how it sounded. Her hands were already gouging into the backs of the girl's thighs, digging in as they worked their way closer to her centre.

Several shaky gasps fell from from the younger woman’s lips. Still wearing an elated smile, instinct was already starting to take over. No longer did she care about their sub or Dom roles; this time, it was a case of doing whatever each of them wanted, trusting their intuition. Already Ruby felt her hips pushing forward against Winter's needily, desperate to get anything she could of her and push back against those hands in addition. Her arms wrapped around Winter's shoulders, keeping her close as she pressed her forehead against hers.

"I missed you, too." A hand dived into her hair. "I'm so happy you're here."

"I know how we started," Winter began as one hand slid around Ruby's hip to begin hiking up her skirt, to rub against her through the thin material of her underwear. "But now it's so much more than just training you. I… I have thought about you every single day since the last time we saw each other!"

"Nhhh! God, I'm so glad I'm not the only one!" Already she was so warm – and all over! No doubt Winter would be able to feel just how wet she had been, it was soaking her undies already. Looking her dead in he eye, she whispered, "So what are you waiting for? Fuck me." And without hesitating any longer, she crashed her lips up against Winter's.

As she kissed back, harder than ever before, Winter wasted no time. Ordinarily, her hands would have been doing a thousand things, taunting flesh and ghosting up thighs. In this instance, she jerked the crotch of Ruby's soft cotton panties aside and began to rub up and down her dripping folds, fingers moving with practiced ease.

Finally, Ruby could do just as she wanted to in the presence of everyone in that room. And she didn't hold back, moaning contentedly into their kiss as she continued to thrust her hips forward into the slender fingers. Even if she was glad they could do as they wanted, Ruby was able to come up with one downside to their impromptu session: they didn't have an artillery of Winter's wonderful toys to use. If only they had somehow anticipated this reconciliation.

Not that she was complaining. Slender fingers would be able to bring her to just as satisfying a finish. She knew that deep down. And she was so desperate for it she couldn't hold back any of the needy thrusts.

Clearly, the girl was ready for more. Not wanting to be conspicuously gone any longer than they had to be, she plunged her middle finger straight into Ruby, curling in with great relish as her tongue began to do the same with the beautiful mouth atop her own.

"HMMMHH!"

What a loud and needy sound that fell into Winter's mouth. Yesss, that’s the spot right there, Ruby thought. She continued to push herself forward against Winter's hand while she worked at that sensitive spot inside, feeling the slender and thin finger buried inside her. But one wasn't enough. Oh no. To be truly satisfied, she needed more than that. Ruby’s hand dove down toward where Winter was working and tapping at one of her other fingers with hers lightly. Just enough to give an undoubtable hint.

But it seemed that even now, Winter couldn't be satisfied with doing this the usual way. Pausing their kiss, she panted, "You want another? Go ahead. Add another." As she said this, she switched from middle to index, pushing the rest of her hand as far out of Ruby's way as she could manage.

Trying to keep her volume down by habit, she looked down at Winter wide eyed. That wasn't something she had heard of before; born of them working together to push her to orgasm. But the way Winter was so casual about it excited her so much! It was worth a try. Holding her hand right beside Winter's, she pushed a finger inside, trusting Winter to follow.

She did, keeping pace with the entry. Of course, it wasn't quite so easy to pull off as only one of them using two fingers, but it turned out to be just doable. Having two hands in such an area forced Ruby's legs further apart, but she was young and flexible; it wasn't impossible.

"Oooh," Winter cooed as she felt a foreign digit sliding over her own, both of them buried deep in the waiting sex. "How does that feel?"

For some reason, this made Ruby shudder even more. It was one thing not to be fully in control, it was another to hand it completely over. But to share? How many times has Winter done this with others, she wondered… "S-so good…" she breathed needily, even pushing herself up against the hands right at her welcoming warmth, trying to welcome them further in.

"Yeah?" Panting heatedly, she began to move her finger at the same time as Ruby's - but she couldn't quite get the rhythm. That seemed to make her partner undulate and buck even more than she would have done under ordinary circumstances. "Mmm, you look like you're losing yourself in it… I hope it's in the best of ways."

"Nnhhhh, yeah, it d-definitely is," she assured her, holding still for a moment as she tried to sync herself up with Winter's hand. Each time it wasn't quite matched, she shuddered a little more, even squealed on top of things on occasion. She could feel her toes beginning to curl in her shoes already. Why didn't she get off inside? It would have made things more of a challenge, at least.

Winter's lips found their way to Ruby's neck as she felt her began to buck atop her, as she tried to curl at the same speed. She was also just able to get her thumb right up against her clit as she did so, hoping the slight friction from their movements would be enough to help send her into the stratosphere sooner rather than later.

Continuing to buck and twitch as her neck was kissed, the moaning was unfortunately increasing in volume. She couldn't help it one bit, it was such a strange sensation! At times when Winter would curl her finger, Ruby would in another direction, which made her feel her inner walls very slightly stretched out. That was more filling than anything. She could feel her heart beginning to race as she grasped Winter's shirt with her spare hand, and felt the few stray quivers that informed her it wouldn’t be long now.

"C-close… I-I'm close already! F-fuck! What are you doing to me?!"

"Let it happen! Oh God, Ruby - you sound so good!" Winter flexed her finger faster than ever, inwardly loving the feeling of Ruby's sliding over hers; it felt so foreign and new, added an intriguing dimension for her. Clearly, it was doing way more than for the smaller woman atop her. "Cum for me! Cum hard for me, Lady!"

God had she missed that petname. Finally, she was pushed over the edge. When Winter curled her finger one more time, and she did too, she felt them hit that sweet spot just right. That in addition to Winter's play with her clit, and she was done for. Shuddering on top of her, “Lady” moaned one more time as loud as she was able, feeling her inner walls clenching around the digits inside her. She felt her fluids getting out of control again, sprinkling Winter's leg and the seat very slightly.

But they had done it. In the car, at WEISS’S BIRTHDAY PARTY.

"Ohhh, wow," Winter breathed, gazing up at hey affectionately. "I wasn't thinking about your ejaculation problem. But… it's so hot…" Drawing away, she left a light kiss on her lips. "You'll never know how much I missed that these past few months."

For a moment, she just lay on top of Winter's front, gasping for breath and smiling with glee as she gradually came down from her high. That was something she missed for a long while. It felt like a relief to regain waht they had lost. But they were still on the clock. After a minute, she was pulling out her own and Winter's finger so she could descend. "Your turn."

"Oh… oh, that isn't necessary, Ruby," she told her earnestly as she watched the girl sink to the floorboard. "I just wanted to follow through on what I promised at the dinner table. You don't have to…"

But already Ruby was crammed into the footwell of the passenger seat. She still made sure the blanket was covering her up, but she began to brush her hands up and down Winter's thighs needily. While Ruby first needed to get off, she needed Winter as well. She needed to be the one to hear her moan again. Hitching up her skirt with each brush, she smirked.

"But I didn't get to eat yet."

While watching her down there, Winter couldn't help but sigh and smile gently at the face between her knees. After a beat, she whispered to her, "You're the most beautiful woman in the entire world."

"Hmm… Nope!" Without elaborating, she made sure to tuck the blanket over them both to keep the area covered. Anything else, Winter would just have to feel. And first thing was first, she would kiss the insides of her thighs, making her way upward toward her underwear rather quickly. While she knew Winter needed the teasing, they had a limited time-window.

And the elder woman didn't waste any time in allowing her eyes to close, to relax into the gentle motions. She was going to enjoy it, of course, but if she fought against the tiny ripples of pleasure, it would take much longer than if she rode them out.

Lady managed to nudge aside her panties with her nose again. She had a feeling it would be preferred by Winter to do so, as a gentle reminder of their play from before. One that, since Yang mentioned the dog story, was starting to make sense why she enjoyed! She at first delivered a single, small kiss before she opened her mouth wider against the folds, and went in for the kill.

If the kiss had made her sigh, the actions that followed made her moan. Winter's legs raised up to drape over Ruby's back as she opened herself up to more stimulation, more attentions from the ravenous tongue of her lover.

Lover… The title sounded accurate now. Justified. Even the strange things they had put each other through, the worries and the uncertainty, hadn't been enough to stop them from being together. All she wanted was to see that through, to become one with the only person she had ever cared about beyond friendship. To see where things led.

And right now, they were leading further and further toward Winter's finish. That tongue hadn't lost its talent, and lapped at Winter's sex readily and needily. In particular, she focused on the clit, kissing it on occasion over and over again. But she knew to add more. And a hint of that was coming as she parted the lips further with her fingers, the other hand still stroking her inner thigh.

"Ohhh, yes," Winter panted obscenely, pushing a hand into the side of Ruby's head as her back arched very slightly. "Ruby, please - more! It feels so good, I can't help it, I n-need…"

Ruby would absolutely deliver more. Keeping the lips apart, she finally gave her what she craved. Aware it would be awkward for Winter to join her down there, she entered her body with two fingers. In unison with her licking, she pumped in and out of her body with them. All the while she was smirking as she listened to the sound of her new lover.

Her other partner in addition to Penny. It was a dream come true.

The fingers instantly had Winter screaming, curling her stomach as her hungry sex tried to clamp down on them, hold them inside. It hadn't been as long for Winter since she orgasmed, but it being Ruby was enough to get her within a hair's breadth very quickly. Her lips stretched wide and her head fell back completely as she let the feeling wash over her, as a few more good thrusts sent her spinning off into an explosion of pleasure unlike any she had enjoyed in months.

Though it wasn't just the swift orgasm that ended their spontaneous session. It was a small, but sharp knock on the car window. One that made Ruby's head jerk up from under the blanket.

What she saw was a freckle-cheeked ginger smiling in at them. No one else was standing outside her car, luckily enough; only Penny, looking pleased as could be to see her girlfriend. She waved, being that the windows were up and it would probably be hard to hear her through them.

"Holy shit Penny!" Eyes snapping wide open, Ruby was quick to remove her fingers from Winter's body and pull her panties back into place. Even if Penny couldn't hear them, she still waved back, talking nervously. "U-Um… Hi! I… I meant to message you about this!"

"What?" Penny called back. "Hi!"

"Oh shit," Winter was whispering, blinking at the redhead. Even though she was clearly in a good mood, she still felt awkward that there had been no time to discuss things with Penny directly… before such an unfortunate moment!

"U-Um… Uh…" There wasn't any way to talk to Penny without yelling aimlessly in the car ,or finding her keys to start the engine and roll the window down. Even if it wasn't the most convenient of moments, she couldn't let things slide without saying a word. Resigning to it, Ruby opened the door very slightly, just enough so Penny could hear her talk. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean for you to… to walk up and… U-Uh…"

But Penny simply flung the door wide, squatted down and embraced her girlfriend, even having to crane around Winter's leg the way she did. The genuine warmth and affection in the action told Ruby that she wasn't doing it merely for show; she had just missed her that much.

"I love my parents, but I love you, too," she breathed into Ruby's sweat-dampened hair. "So good to be back."

"W-Wha?!" More shocked than anything at first, Ruby looked at Winter with a look of confusion for a moment, until she finally embraced Penny right back, locking her arms around Penny's shoulders. Although about to grasp her, she held back with one of the hands. Penny would not appreciate that on her back!

"Awww, I missed you, too! I'm just so sorry I couldn't tackle hug you or something! This is… is awkward."

Once Ruby said that, her partner drew back with a slight pinkness in her cheeks. From experience, she knew it was more that Penny was embarrassed than that she was "turned on," of course. "Right. Well, I saw you while I was walking up to the house. Luckily, Taiyang and Qrow didn't notice, so I told them I wanted to get something my suitcase." At last, she spared Winter a bashful glance. "Hello."

"G-good to see you," she murmured, her own face redder than either of the other two.

"Still, I did want to talk to you." Drawing back from their embrace, Ruby looked toward the emerald eyes she adored so much. And then to Winter, as well. The two women she loved, both in the same place. And oddly without a single hitch. How lucky she truly was to have them both, even if it was an awkward circumstance.

"Penny, I'm sorry I’ve been such a sad sack the past few months," she told her, partially explaining for her and Winter's benefit, especially with the next line. "It was my fault for not trying to solve this sooner and letting myself mope. Honestly, I don't know how either of you put up with me sometimes…"

Both of them moved to hug her, but Winter held back when she noticed Penny was doing the same. The latter said, "Sorry, you can go first if you want."

"No, it's… Penny, I'm sorry we haven't spoken properly about this before now." Her eyes flicked toward Ruby and back. "This is an unusual situation, but not unheard of. But clearly we both care very much about Ruby. So… well, it's her decision in the end, but it seems only honest for me to ask you directly, as well. Are you sure you don’t mind? Since you and she had the pre-existing relationship."

"And please don't make a choice solely because of me," Ruby insisted, making sure Penny was looking at her while she said it. Stroking her arm gently, she went on, "Because I want you to be happy, too. I need you to be happy. I don't want you to agree with this but be hating every moment of it."

"But I'm fine." When Ruby only kept looking at her in concern, she sighed and petted her neck. "Okay… I was upset when you first told me you wanted to start going to the club and trying things with other people. But not with you. I… was more frustrated with myself for not being enough for you. For not being wired the way that most people are and not being able to give you everything."

"But you give me everything I need!" She quickly took her hand – and then in addition, took Winter's. She simply made sure Winter's was the hand they'd been doing things with, just so it didn't disturb Penny. "You both do! I don't need sex at the end of the day. It's just… fun! Like going for a walk, or to a convention, it's not a need, it's… almost a hobby! What I need is what you both give me. Love and care, and good times. And that's what I have from you both. And I love you both for it!"

After a moment, Penny smiled and told her in a gentle voice, "I know. I got over that frustration pretty quickly; it was an emotional knee-jerk response. You being happy is a lot more important, and once I realized that you would be, and it wouldn't 'cost' me anything, the rest was pretty easy to process."

"You really don't mind?" Winter asked her, voice steady despite her obvious fear. "One hundred percent sure?"

"Not at all. You have treated Ruby well; even in the story she told me about your argument, I could tell you were very distressed about what she had done and who she had done it in front of. She never said you hit her, or called her a bad person; you were just upset and trying to handle those new feelings. And other than that one incident, she has never had a bad thing to say about you."

"And I kinda blamed myself more, anyway…" Ruby began to sit upright, adjusting her position for ease of movement for Winter. "Anyway… I guess we better head back inside. They'll be wondering where we are."

"Not just yet," Penny said. "Winter, come here a moment."

Bewildered, the taller woman leaned down, taking the moment to right her seat as she did so. It was going to squeeze Ruby a bit, but she was small enough so that she could still easily extract herself. "Yes? Oh!"

"I love you," Penny told her gently as she embraced her. "I have never hated or resented you. What you can do for Ruby is very important because she's important to me. So I don't want you worrying about me; I know you're going to keep treating her well, so I have no reason to be worried, either."

Smiling gratefully, Ruby looked back and forth between both her girlfriends. This was all she could ask for; her two favourite people being okay with one another's company. It would certainly make things easier. Giggling to herself, she suggested, "Maybe one day we can all have a cuddle pile. We’ll need a bigger bed, of course."

"You're welcome to move in with me," Winter told them easily. "Either to all sleep in the same bed, or I could convert my office. But I'm sure you'd rather have your own apartment."

"That would be preferable to me. Not saying we couldn't sleep over at your place." Penny drew back from the hug so she could lay one of her hands on Ruby's shoulder, even as the other remained on Winter's back. "On evenings when you two don't want to have sex, of course; I wouldn't want you worrying about what I'm going to do with myself while you do."

"Well first we'll need to tell dad." Finally getting out from the small space, Ruby took the blanket to finally clean her hand, passing it over to Winter for her to do the same once Penny had let go. "He'll probably be all weepy that his kids have finally left, but he'll help us move."

"Very true." Then Penny beamed at her, cheeks bunching. "Ohh, I'm so happy - you look so much more like yourself than you have the past months!"

Penny threw both arms around her and went in for a big, affectionate kiss. She kissed back gratefully, allowing a moment to open her mouth a little wider to kiss deeper. "MMM!" She suddenly pulled back before Penny went too far, laughing nervously. "That… uh… that’s not a good idea right now. W-we just…"

But the ginger was already smacking her lips in vague confusion. "Oh… right, now I remember what you were doing before I knocked. Well… I guess that's my fault for forgetting, isn't it?" Her cheeks were getting rosier, but her smile was no less satisfied at their circumstances. "Um… I hope she doesn't mind."

"Me?" Winter asked, smiling herself now. Even though it was odd knowing her essence was on this more-or-less stranger’s tongue now, it wasn’t exactly the first time that had happened. "No, not at all! Why should I mind? I just- well, if you're asexual, I didn't… that wouldn't have been something I wanted to happen. But if you're not upset about it, why should I be?"

"You don't taste that different from Ruby, really. No need to be worried." Then she turned back to Ruby and made an even bigger show of kissing her right on the mouth. "It's who I'm kissing that's important, not where their mouth has been. Unless it’s on someone who has been sick, because I don’t want to catch their germs."

Blushing rather deeply, Ruby smiled back at Penny bashfully. She always was able to leave her a giddy mess, even if it was through flattery.

But worried that they really would be missed if they stayed any longer, she finally made an effort to unfold herself from the car, soon followed by Winter. Penny and Ruby headed inside first to avoid suspicion. At least this way, she had the excuse that she was waiting for her when she left to go to the bathroom. Then a few minutes later came Winter, who had “just finished her business”. Yang slid Penny her diet-specific food, along with a few sandwiches and snacks for Ruby and Winter before Qrow and Taiyang could stuff their faces.

"Goodness, Winter, that took forever," Weiss observed from where she was showing one of the women from Fènleng's daycare a photo album. "Business or pleasure?"

"A little of both," she hedged. "How's the party going? Did you get everything you wanted?"

"I did! Thank you for the music box, I didn't know they sold them with any of my songs."

At that, Winter had to smile. "They don't; it was a custom job." God bless Etsy. When Weiss broke away from the other woman to give her a hug, she laughed and hugged back. "Happy birthday."

Smiling contentedly at them, Ruby mostly stood by Penny or hung back by herself, with the main people she knew all busy talking to other party guests. Still, it was the happiest she had felt in months. As she watched her lovers spending time with friends and family, she relaxed back against the wall with her punch. Everything was copacetic.

Until a hand landed on her shoulder. "Hey there, Red."

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Ruby looked straight around to the source. "U-uncle Qrow! Sorry, I forgot you were coming!"

Her uncle laughed confidently, lowering his hand as he stood to one side of her, also leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, Yang sorta insisted. And I kinda needed the day out. It's nice to see the inside of somewhere other than the same old same-old."

"Yeah. I can imagine…" Unable to help it, Ruby was already growing nervous again. She hadn't even discussed anything with Qrow since finding out his living situation – and more. She was too afraid to in case it made things awkward, and lead to awkward questions. But that wasn't helping here at all when she realised she had nothing to say.

But Qrow beat her to it. "So, you and Snowbird sorted things out yet?" When Ruby blinked up in surprise at him, Qrow cut her off before she could speak. "Yeah, I know. Not only did she talk about it, but I saw a beady li’l eye watch me head to my room. You've never been the sneakiest of kids, Ruby."

"Great," the redhead muttered in embarrassment. While looking down at the floor instead however, she did add, "But yes… we talked it out. A-and… it went really well. Everything’s cool."

"Good to hear." Taking a sip of his drink, he sighed easily. Never was one to have ruffled feathers. "Maybe this means she'll be less gloomy. I mean, I tried to cheer her up, but there was only so much I could do."

"Please don't tell me how." Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to push the mental image of her other girlfriend with her uncle back out of her mind. Nobody needed that in their life. "I-I know it was selfish of me… to get mad over such a dumb reason. I think it's because you're more or less a second dad to me."

"You got that right," he laughed. "But, yeah, I wouldn't wanna imagine my pa doing anything with my girl, either. And I guess that's what first came to mind for ya." Though after a while, he cleared his throat, looking with a contented smile toward her. "I really am happy for you both, though. Winter's a special gal, anyone could tell you that. And I can't think of a better match for her than you."

"Qrow…" Against her will, she could feel her eyes beginning to well up. She had expected the conversation to be awkward with him, especially since he clearly enjoyed Winter's company as well. Managing to hold them back, she nodded. "Thank you… I just hope I can do right by her and Penny. Gonna be interesting figuring it all out."

"Kid, you get two birthdays and two Christmas presents now. But I guess that goes both ways." Giving a small pat on her shoulder, he smirked. "Say bye bye to your money."

"Ah, but Ruby is my sub," Winter muttered as she snuck up behind them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Typically, I'll be buying her the gifts. And Qrow has seen the one you gave me hanging up in my 'special' closet."

"The one I-" Although immediately her eyes opened wide when she realised what that was, Qrow could only laugh at her reaction. “You put that on your wall?! But it was just a doodle!”

He mussed her hair slightly. "Don't look so shocked! When I first saw it, I thought she had it done by a professional. Had no idea it was you, squirt!"

Smiling gently, Winter leaned a little closer to Ruby, but still spoke in a tone they could both hear. "All teasing aside, it’s one of my favourite things. You’re really talented and I hope you keep it up."

Then, so quickly that none of the other guests would spot it, she left a tiny kiss behind Ruby's ear. But of course one did, and rolled his eyes. "God, you two, get a room. I'm gonna hang out with Tai and Jacques, see how they're getting along. Grumpy Old Men sequel over there. Take it easy."

And finally he left them on their own. Probably for the best, seeing as the smaller sub's cheeks were glowing red with their typical embarrassment. A side effect of all the affection she would have to get used to. The moment Qrow was well out of earshot, along with the rest of the party, Winter changed the subject.

"You're mine again. We'll have to think of some new fun things to do with you. How about… next time I take you for a walk at the Clamp, we see about slipping a pair of vibrating panties under your suit? Wouldn't that be fun?"

The blush only intensified even more at that idea. The walk alone was enough to do that! "Maybe…" She swallowed nervously. "It'd certainly be… interesting."

"Maybe we'll both wear a pair." Another furtive glance, and she ghosted a hand over Ruby's hind end. "The car was a preview of… coming attractions. There's a lot more in your future."

And with even more of a red blush, Ruby was beginning to sink further and further down the wall in embarrassment. She would be quite a sight for the rest of the evening, but didn't wish for anything else.

"I hope I can get used to this again…"

"Get used to what?" Penny asked as she walked up to them, sliding her hands around Ruby's waist and kissing her gently on the cheek. The action pushed Ruby's behind into Winter's hand again, which squeezed it very slightly.

Lady couldn't wish for anything more under the stars than surviving the embrace and love of her two favourite women. But clearly, history had proven she wasn't afraid to try.

                = End =

                = Stay Tuned for White Noise: Sister Midnight =

[malkumtend]

I Like Your Laugh - Chapter 9.

“So?” Squirrelpaw began, horribly masking the exhaustion from her voice. “Is this what it’s always like in Windclan?”

Crowpaw turned, staring at the molly stonily. “Yes. But normally we haven’t been travelling for days on end.”

“Hmm.” Squirrelpaw was not impressed by his answer. “So, no advice on how to deal with this heat then?”

“No.”

The Thunderclan molly groaned, her head dipping down towards the ground again. It was getting too tiring to even hold her head up. It had been a while since they had left the forest bordering the Twolegplace, and they’d been traveling on the open country hills since Sunhigh. Now, it was getting close to moonrise. The blue sky had slowly changed into a burning orange, but the heat of the sun persisted, surely draining every inch of energy out of the group as they continued to walk in the direction of the glistening yellow orb.

Every cat was clearly beginning to tire. They could practically sense the pain in each other’s paws and feel the growing heat soaking in their fur. Each walked with low heads and tails, even Brambleclaw was starting to look like he was losing his breath, despite his evident desire to look strong at the lead of the group. Squirrelpaw almost found it admirable, despite his general attitude.

But it wasn’t like she could speak. Her mouth was dry and she found herself licking her chapped lips after every fox-length in order to keep a part of herself cool. Starclan, she was thirsty. But there would be no water on these hills; not even a single drop.

Brambleclaw’s ear had flickered at her and Crowpaw’s conversation and he looked back, eyes narrowed but too dry with fatigue to look remotely fearsome. “There’s no use complaining about it.” He said gloomily, “We just have to carry on until moonrise.”

“And then what?” Stormfur remarked, “Do we even have any idea how far away the sun-drown place is from here?” No cat needed to answer him. The grey warrior sighed, “I can’t even smell anything anymore, just the hills. It could be a moon before we even get there.”

Out of the tense silence that followed, Brambleclaw bared his teeth at the warrior.

“It won’t do you any good to say that!” The brown tom snapped; his head twisted away with a rugged groan. “There’s no way we can turn back now!”

Stormfur let out a soft breath, blinking sluggishly, “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

Brambleclaw scoffed gruffly, “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Stormfur didn’t respond. Of course he was thinking about it. Every cat, no matter how little they wanted to admit it, had thought about the defeat of giving up and turning back. None of them wanted to consider it, but after so much endless, aimless walking the heat and pain was slowly cracking at their resolve which was now as delicate as a freshly laid bird’s egg.

Squirrelpaw looked around at the group, apart from Brambleclaw, everyone looked ready to drop where they were in exhaustion. She felt a mixture of respect and irritation for her clanmate. She could understand how much he wanted to believe in Starclan and follow through on their quest, but he just couldn’t accept how drained the rest of them were. Squirrelpaw was not going to give up either, but she could see the hunger clouding the cats that would soon lead to further injuries if they weren’t careful.

Just behind her brother, Tawnypelt tried to sound supportive. “Brambleclaw, no cat wants to turn back. We’re just tired.”

“I’m tired too.” Brambleclaw said, turning to his sister hotly. “But we can’t afford to suspect the worst, or else it’ll be over for all of us.” His tone hollowed and he looked towards the sun again with a broken pattern of breaths.

The group could tell he was convincing himself more than them.

Squirrelpaw felt Crowpaw nudge her. She flushed absently. “Guess he’s starting to realise how hard it is being a leader.” The tom mewed softly.

“Mhmm.” Squirrelpaw murmured. It was becoming more and more obvious just how stressed Brambleclaw had become; it wasn’t just how quick to temper he was. His proud structure had sagged with his neck slanting like a dead branch. His steps had become small, sapping every time his paw hit the hot grass. The confidence he had shown in front of Purdy was gone, now he looked just as hopeless as cats he was trying to lead.

But he was still forcing himself to look strong, which made the weight of his movement so much heavier.

“Still, maybe we should stop to hunt at least.” Feathertail asked. The normally soft voice was jaded and dry. Squirrelpaw felt her stomach groan at the mention of hunting. No cat had eaten since that morning and they all smacked their lips at the thought of warm meat and blood.

“I think we should make some more ground before moonhigh.” Brambleclaw explained, frowning at the Riverclan cat.

Feathertail shrugged, “What’s the difference? We know which way we need to go and we’ve already said that we don’t know how far it will be before we even get close to the sun-drown place.”

Brambleclaw looked to his side, “Maybe, but-”

“The path there isn’t going away, Brambleclaw.” The cats all felt a prickle of surprise. Feathertail wasn’t the kind of cat to normally interrupt anyone. “But we all need to eat something soon. You must see that.”

Brambleclaw looked determined to argue further, then his mouth closed as he noticed the cat’s begin to mutter between themselves in agreement. His eyes narrowed, but his gaze dropped away. Squirrelpaw hoped that, outside of his pride, he was able to admit to himself that he was as starved as the rest of them.

She could hope. But he would never show it.

He huffed, but he kept his words calm. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.” He admitted with what could be assumed as self-righteous graciousness. “We need our strength, I’m sorry Feathertail.” He seemed genuine but it was hard for Squirrelpaw to tell by how Brambleclaw’s tail waved crossly across the grass.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Feathertail mewed, either too tired or too kind to create an argument. Brambleclaw nodded, a sheepish look in his eyes.

“I suppose we should split up then?” Stormfur asked, already walking over to where his sister was, hope shining in his eyes. “Hunt for ourselves?”

Feathertail smiled at her brother but found herself looking over where Squirrelpaw and Crowpaw stood. Squirrelpaw tittered, waving her white paw at the Warrior. “Go on! Me and Crowpaw will be fine.”

Wait…

Her and Crowpaw… alone. Had that thought always made her insides scurry like a dormouse?

She shook her pelt. It was just hunting with her friend, they’d done it before, it wasn’t any different this time.

Feathertail glanced up at Crowpaw, as if waiting for his confirmation. Maybe hoping that he wanted her to come along, Squirrelpaw wondered. She internally screamed at herself. Oh, Fox-Dung, so that had returned!

Crowpaw’s tail swung in thought, softly meeting Feathertail’s gaze and opening his mouth to say something. Then he glanced over at Stormfur’s stony expression and his mouth closed. He thought again. The apprentice smirked. “Yeah, go ahead. It wouldn’t hurt Stormfur to see how a Warrior can catch prey bigger than a kit’s claw.”

“Go chew on your tail, frog-brain!” Stormfur snapped, his fur prickling with fury. His head dropped when Feathertail giggled at the apprentice’s joke.

The Riverclan molly seemed to think it over a moment longer, then she smiled at her two friends and turned to her brother with a comforting purr. “Come on, Stormfur. Don’t lose your whiskers over that.”

The grey tom growled once more, but he soon calmed down as he followed his sister. “We’ll go over this way.”

“See you later!” Squirrelpaw called, watching as the white and grey pelts shrank in the grassland.

“You’ll be off with him then, I suppose.” A bitter voice hissed.

Squirrelpaw could feel Crowpaw’s fur rise even before she faced Brambleclaw. She’d really hoped she wouldn’t have to argue with him anymore today. The Tom’s frown was stiff and discomforting, amber eyes gawking sharply into her.

“Brambleclaw.” Tawnypelt warned, padding up to him cautiously.

“Is there a problem with that?” Squirrelpaw goaded, her tail curling as she challenged the tom’s stare.

Brambleclaw’s lip curled, “Oh no, of course not.” Brambleclaw gibed, looking away half-heartedly. One eye travelled to meet her, glowing inside an ominous slint. “It’s just good to see where your loyalties lie, that’s all.”

Squirrelpaw’s gaze iced.

‘Especially a loud mouthed one.’

‘She didn’t help herself, after all, shaking like a leaf.’

‘I don’t need to explain myself to you, you’re an apprentice.’

Anger tightened Squirrelpaw’s stomach. Despite everything he had said to her, she had tried her best to be nice to him. And he had rejected every kindness she’d offered.

Yet somehow, he found a way to blame her.

“What did you say?!” Crowpaw started forward, his face full of bloodlust. The apprentice’s claws unsheathed and Squirrelpaw could sense he was determined to rake his claws across the Warrior’s throat. As much as she wanted to see her clanmate pay for his words, it would do no good for Crowpaw to spill blood when he was clearly exhausted.

She stepped ahead of the apprentice, ushering him back with her tail. She could feel Crowpaw’s muscles tense, but he kept still. She stared on at her clanmate, as cold and bitter as saltwater. “You don’t have the right to say that to me.” She hissed, already beginning to turn away. She didn’t have to waste her time on him. She prodded Crowpaw with her tail, beckoning him to follow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brambleclaw notice this with a hiss of hurt and disgust.

“I’m your clanmate and a Warrior; I think I do!” The tom snarled.

“And I told you before,” Squirrelpaw meowed tonelessly, “I’d treat you like that when you acted like it. Until then, I don’t give a mouse-tail what you think.” She gave him a passive glimpse. “Besides, we’re in the moors. Crowpaw will be more use here than you’ve ever been.”

Momentarily, Squirrelpaw questioned if she’d gone too far after a clear upset sting panged across her clanmate’s face. But the vicious snarl he created within seconds made her throw away that idea into the dirtplace.

Also, it did feel wonderful when she saw Crowpaw grin at her remark.

“Oh yes, you’ll make a fine warrior with that attitude! We’ll see how much those flowers mean when we get back!” Brambleclaw yowled after her. Squirrelpaw held her tongue, ignoring the Warrior. Though she could make out the frantic scolding of Tawnypelt as she sauntered away.

“You’re one to talk about attitude!” Crowpaw spat back heatedly, baring his fangs at the Warrior one last time before following Squirrelpaw. “Rabbit-brain.” He muttered under his breath.

“Don’t waste your breath.” Squirrelpaw advised, though her tail curled in appreciation at how quick Crowpaw was to defend her. “With this sun, you’ll need it for hunting.”

The dark grey cat grumbled, “He acts like he’s a mentor! I can’t stand it!” Crowpaw whipped his tail violently behind him, “He thinks he’s so special, ordering us all around as if he’s a Deputy!”

Squirrelpaw wouldn’t ever disagree with the cat. Brambleclaw had just been getting worse as the days went on. She didn’t understand why the others weren’t as bothered about it as her or Crowpaw. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Be thankful he’s not your clanmate.”

Squirrelpaw felt her face heat up when Crowpaw looked back up at her again. His brow furrowed, creased with protective conviction. “I swear to Starclan, if he treats you like that when we get back to the forest, you make sure you tear his fur off. It’d be my pleasure to help you do it!”

Squirrelpaw laughed, flashing a brash grin. “Thanks, but I’m on it. When I become a Warrior, I’ll make sure he knows he can’t treat me like a kit anymore!” She wasn’t afraid of the tom anymore, the only reason she hadn’t clawed his ears already was that she wouldn’t allow herself to cause divisions in the group over his sake.

Crowpaw made a sound that seemed close to that all to wonderful laugh. “Good! I’d rake through the dirtplace if it meant I could see that fool get a mark or two on his pelt!”

“Well, when you find a rabbit, you can pretend it’s him!” Squirrelpaw quipped, rubbing his pelt against his playfully.

Crowpaw gave a mock gasp of horror, “Are you hare-brained?! That would be too cruel to the rabbit.”

They both laughed with each other. It was becoming more normal.

They padded away, both internally promising to not go too far for fear of losing the scent of the group. That turned out to be easier than expected. Stormfur had been right; the sun had seemed to dry out the air around them, making the scents faint and difficult to cling to. Squirrelpaw let out a soft breath, it was going to be hard to hunt when they couldn’t find prey scents to begin with.

“Anything?” She whispered hopefully. Low to the ground, Crowpaw shook his head but didn’t relax in the slightest. His pelt was on edge, prepared, waiting for something.

“Just wait a moment.” Crowpaw murmured, his whiskers directed high to the air.

Squirrelpaw watched transfixed, trusting. The grey cat’s whiskers drifted with the light breeze of the wind, imitating the swaying grass, then as if turned by the shifting tide, the wind changed, dragging Crowpaw’s whiskers with them. His tail twitched and he crouched down; his whiskers brushing along the grass.

Straightening up, eyes fixed, Crowpaw faced Squirrelpaw again. “This way.” He concluded, nudging her with his tail to follow him. Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“How do you know?” She sniffed the air again and couldn’t find anything.

Crowpaw smirked, cocky but not incredibly condescending. “In the moors, the scents go across the grass with the wind. All you need to do is be facing the right direction and you can find prey that are tree-lengths away.”

Squirrelpaw blinked, “You’re pulling my tail. I’ve never heard of that.”

“You don’t need to. This land isn’t your home.”

True, but Squirrelpaw still wasn’t convinced. She must have looked it too, as Crowpaw stopped walking.

“Give it a try.” He said, too composed to be lying.

Squirrelpaw tried her best to imitate what she saw, waiting for the wind to stroke her whiskers before pressing them near to the grass. She didn’t need to wait a moment before her nose twitched at a faint trace of prey.

“Fox-dung.” She was relieved, but she still whined.

“You were saying?” Came the good-natured jeer.

Squirrelpaw rose brashly, now stuck on the same trail Crowpaw had found. “If you need the wind to hunt properly, it’s no wonder you’re so skinny.” She said, sticking out her tongue at the apprentice, before walking ahead, taking the lead.

“Yeah, that’s real mature.” He followed her, strides short and comfortable.

But even though Squirrelpaw was trying to look disinterested, she had to praise Crowpaw’s technique when it had granted them with a large rabbit, caught and dispatched within minutes.

Squirrelpaw licked the blood from her fangs, quivering as the tasted gave her a sudden burst of energy. “That’s better.”

Crowpaw looked over the prey, glancing around with a stiff expression. He faced the air again, but his whiskers barely swayed at all. “The wind’s dying down, it’s going to be harder to catch another if that sun gets any worse.” His relaxed look didn’t match his next words at all. “You want to share this one?”

Smiling, laughing, sharing. Squirrelpaw was finding it harder to believe this was Crowpaw but it didn’t stop her from taking up his offer within the first beat of her pacing heart.

With every bite, Squirrelpaw felt her tiredness ease, and her muscles begin to stiffen comfortably. Hopefully, the others had been just as successful with their hunts; it was going to be a long night otherwise. In the, admittedly too often, glances she’d snuck at Crowpaw, she found that he was gulping his share down as quickly as he could. Already he’d stripped one leg down to the bone.

“You going to chew any of that, Crowpaw?”

After gulping down half a foot, he answered. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry, more far off than anything. “You take your time, I’m in no rush to see your clanmate again.”

She felt like she was meant to laugh. She didn’t. “What’s up?” From the dim gaze to the twitching whiskers, Squirrelpaw was able to catch onto when something had Crowpaw riled. She still didn’t know if she entirely knew what to do to cheer him up.

He didn’t answer straight away, only after a stoic pause with a bite and a tear and a swallow. “How long is it going to take now?”

Squirrelpaw bit softly on the inside of her cheek. Of course. “I wish I knew.” She took another bite, hoping the flavours would sate the uneasiness creeping on her back. “It’s like they said earlier, it could be days, it could be moons in fact.”

“Well that’s comforting.”

“You asked.”

Crowpaw swallowed less forcefully, “I just wonder what’s going on back at home.”

Squirrelpaw stared at the floor, trying to imagine what it was like back in Thunderclan; what was it like for her parents or for Leafpaw? She could only hope for the best. She couldn’t think that Starclan was going to send them on this journey only for it to mean nothing in the end.

Well, she hoped not at least.

Hoping. There was a lot of it these days.

“I know how you feel.” Squirrelpaw purred, “But we can’t just lose faith in Starclan. We’ve got to get there, no matter how long it takes, even if that does mean spending moons with your grumpy face.”

“Hey!” Cropaw scolded, though his voice was soft. “I haven’t lost faith in Starclan. I’m just sick of going nowhere.”

“Well, there’s a somewhere at the end of nowhere, Rabbit-brain.” Squirrelpaw chirped. She was as sick of everything as he was, but she had to stay positive about it, especially when confronted with a cat as moody as her friend.

Crowpaw frowned, tilting his head at her. “Doesn’t do us much good until then, though, does it?”

“Well it’s all we’ve got for now.” Squirrelpaw said, swallowing her words like a bone. It was aggravating, but it would do no good to lie. “Just try to relax and you might be able to sleep for once.”

Crowpaw sniffed but he also laughed. Squirrelpaw counted that as a win. He pulled away from the bones now littered in front of him. “I’m done. Don’t rush for me, I can wait.”

“Oh, you’re such a gentletom.” Squirrelpaw said with a mocking reverence, ignoring that she actually meant it. Crowpaw stuck his tongue back out at her, but his eyes were warm and inviting. Squirrelpaw felt her heart stutter again.

What was going on with her? It was becoming way too frequent now that this tom could cause her brazen attitude, that she had perfected over moons and seasons, to crack even a little. It had never been something that hit her even once before, never to this degree at least.

But as he looked, not stared, just a the few glances he struck her with, as she ate, Squirrelpaw’s face felt like water boiling under the sun of Crowpaw’s grin.

It maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. This cat hadn’t been the Crowpaw she’d known before in any way or whisker. That Crowpaw had been an enemy. This cat was one she would maybe even call one of her best friends.

Maybe that was why she didn’t want this journey to end so soon.

It was nice that the flower would be there to remind her of her friends, but Squirrelpaw knew it would never be the same. Not really anyway. Even if they met through patrols or gatherings, it would be under a thousand watching eyes, all judging and making sure they never went to far against their loyalty to the clan.

It’s just good to see where your loyalties lie.

Her hunger suddenly faded underneath, perhaps motioned on by the clouds drifting above them, minutes from blocking the sun. More likely perturbed by reality.

She wanted to tell herself that being a warrior was her greatest duty, and that completing this journey was all that she was ever meant to focus on. That was clearly why Starclan favoured Bramblelclaw over her, anyway. She had the chance to prove to her clan how she could and would live up to the name of her father. She could be his reflection rather than his shadow.

But, when this was all over, what would it be that she’d remember?

She didn’t see this journey as an opportunity to prove herself anymore, she now looked back on the past, all that she could focus on were the friends she had made.

Friends that would naturally leave.

Did that thought hurt them as much as it did her? She’d probably never know.

And it would be best not to ask. Just because she had problems left to sort out with her clan didn’t mean she had to drag other innocent cats into it. She was strong enough to deal with it on her own.

“Are you finished?”

Squirrelpaw looked up to Crowpaw’s patient expression. She examined the prey, there wasn’t much left now, besides she was full enough.

“Yeah, let’s get back to the others.” She stretched her stiff back, sighing from the sudden feeling of her full stomach. “Much better.”

Crowpaw stood up as well, leading the way with a shrewd sneer. “So, it looks like you Thunderclan cats actually could learn from us after all, huh?”

Squirrelpaw scoffed, her tail flaring. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want? A stroke on the ears?” She pouted at him. “I’d consider us even after I was the one who taught you how to stalk instead of swallowing muck.”

Crowpaw’s smile dropped, he groaned to his side. “You’re never going to let that go.”

Squirrelpaw leapt beside him with a smirk. “Besides, I’ve been able to catch your prey now. I bet you’d never be able to catch ours.”

“What? You mean I’ll never have mole breath? Oh, what a shame.”

“Try birds, flea-brain.” Squirrelpaw snapped back.

Crowpaw shrugged, his tail swaying coolly. “Eh, rabbits make for a better meal.”

Oh, he wasn’t getting away that easily! “Spoken like a true tail-chaser.” Squirrelpaw perked her nose up for effect.

It worked. Crowpaw’s right eye twitched and his smile looked much more artificial. “If I wanted to catch one of your little sparrows, I could! But there’s no trees for them to roost on near Winclan!” He insisted, making use of the small height he had above Squirrelpaw as he looked down at her.

“Hmm, I’ve heard better excuses.” She winked. “Why don’t you show me?”

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed, “How am I supposed to show you? There’s no trees around here!”

Squirrelpaw walked on as if disinterested, her tail curling under Crowpaw’s chin. “Oh, don’t worry, Crowpaw. You don’t need to make anymore silly excuses for me. I won’t judge you.” Her voice sounded as if she had drained all the sugar out of a stalk and was now spitting it onto the grey apprentice.

Crowpaw drew a sharp breath, now fully pulled into Squirrelpaw’s trick. “Okay then.” He drawled; one eye cold on the molly. “Then, most divine robin catcher, please do tell me; how do you such amazing cats catch those birds? I’ll catch on, no problem!”

Squirrelpaw’s tail flicked in victory. She was going to enjoy this. “Oh, I suppose I could tell you. As long as you don’t come stealing our prey that is.”

“Same goes to you, vole-brain.” Crowpaw shot back, his smirk becoming more genuine.

Squirrelpaw’s eyes brightened with delight. “Okay then, watch this!” She took a few paces away from him and got into a stalking position. She slowly crawled, facing imaginary prey. “First, we stalk the bird once we spot in in the tree.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “We slooowwwly crawl up to it, making sure it doesn’t see us.”

“What mystical advice.” Crowpaw said dryly, though his mouth snapped shut at Squirrelpaw’s thunderous look.

“Anyway as soon as we get close enough,” She paused, getting into a pouncing crouch and tensing her legs with all the power she could. Instantly she burst into the air, wrapping her paws around her invisible prey. “We use the bark to give use some more power, grab the bird by it’s feathers and drag it down!” She exclaimed, snapping her jaws on her imaginary bird. She pretended to chew viciously for a moment before getting back to her paws with a proud chuckle. “That’s how it’s done.”

Crowpaw rose a brow, thoroughly unamused. “That’s it. That’s simple.”

Squirrelpaw pretended to look offeneded, but internally she was giggling. “Alright then, show me how well you do it.”

The Windclan apprentice rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He shook his pelt, crouching down to mimic Squirrelpaw’s stalking. The Thunderclan cat took the opportunity to go behind him while he was distracted, making sure her own paws were quiet along the grass.

“Ah ah ah,” Squirrelpaw tutted, “Stalk it more slowly.” She heard Crowpaw groan under his breath and he followed her instructions. All while Squirrelpaw stalked him. The molly grinned darkly from behind, getting her hind muscles ready again.

“Okay, so I’ve stalked it slowly,” He mimicked mockingly, “So now I just-”

“Pounce!”

Crowpaw only had half a moment before Squirrelpaw landed on him, where he was able to twist around to face the grinning beast leaping at him. She collided against his chest, pressing onto it with both her paws. She landed on top of him, holding him down with two paws on his shoulders, but not painfully hard.

Squirrelpaw threw her head back with a triumphant laugh as Crowpaw snarled beneath her. “That was a dirty move!” The tom yowled; his fur ruffled under the cat.

Squirrelpaw craned her head down to give the tom a half-lidded grin. “It’s you’re fault for not seeing that coming.”

Crowpaw growled with clear irritation, but there was no hostility in his gaze, unlike when he had pounced at her when they’d first met. It was clear that Crowpaw wasn’t going to fight. That actually made Squirrelpaw feel a little guilty, she’d thought it would do the tom good to have a little excitement. She just wanted to have some fun with him.

The she realised what was going on. That she was above Crowpaw, staring right into his eyes, with the tender pads of her paws buried into the soft fur of his chest. Soft and warm. Her heart stuttered again and her strength on the cat relaxed.

Big mistake.

Immediately, Crowpaw’s eyes burst with fire and he twisted upwards, catching the molly by surprise. She yelped as she felt his paws press against her chest, pushing her down onto her back. It didn’t hurt when her head hit the soft grass, but she was instantly aware of the slight force now holding her down.

Her eyes opened and she caught his spirited expression directly above her. His blue eyes were furrowed with proud mischief. “And you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily.” He piped, grinning down at her with satisfaction.

If her heart was stuttering before, it was losing breath now. Her chest heaved as she felt him above her. She took in his soft fur again, the misty calmness inside the ocean blues of his gaze, when it was directly above her his smile gleamed so much more.

He had pinned her, but she didn’t feel embarrassed. Not in the way a warrior should.

She even found herself smiling back, laughing along with him. When they looked at each other, there wasn’t any animosity, no challenge, just a peace that came between friends.

Her fur was messed up, but it was her that was ruffled.

Squirrelpaw tried to sound playful behind her blush. “Now who’s playing dirty.”

Crowpaw sank in closer to her with a wink. “I’d call us even, wouldn’t you?”

He laughed again. That beautiful laugh that held the same joy she felt.

If only she’d kept a better eye of her surroundings. She may have noticed the heavy paws thundering towards them.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!” Came the thunderous growl.

Crowpaw only had time to flick his ear before the barrage of fur and muscle slammed into his side.

Squirrelpaw swept her eyes in horror as she saw her friend struggle desperately as he thrashed under the strong paws of Brambleclaw. His paws scrambled at the Warrior’s underbelly with his hind paws trying to shake him off, but Brambeclaw didn’t even flinch, holding down the apprentice with a heavy paw on his neck.

“Why did you attack her?!” The Warrior yowled, slamming Crowpaw’s head back down into the grass, causing the flower to dislodge from Crowpaw’s fur and flail away from the fight. The apprentice buckled under the force, but he continued struggling, thrashing as wildly as he could.

“Get off me!” The apprentice hissed, trying to rid himself of the paw painfully pressing his face into the dirt.

“You had her pinned down! You attacked her!” Brambleclaw snarled, he looked ready to lodge his teeth into Crowpaw’s throat.

Squirrelpaw looked on in horror, straight on her friend hopelessly grunting and writhing for freedom. She scrambled up to her paws, ready to help, when she saw a flash of brown and black dart past her towards the fighting cats.

“Brambleclaw!” Tawnypelt screeched, neck spiked, “Stop it!” She bit down on her brother’s scruff, trying her best to drag the furious tom from the smaller cat. Brambleclaw made no effort to quell in his attack, fixing himself down with his claws. They latched onto Crowpaw’s chest making him cry out in pain.

Whatever trance Squirrelpaw was in was ripped away as anger stormed inside her chest. She raced to the scene, not noticing Feathertail and Stormfur appear from the area where Tawnypelt had ran from.

“Oh Starclan, Crowpaw!” The Riverclan molly screamed with a newfound urgency.

“What’s going on here?!” Stormfur exclaimed, following quickly behind his sister as they both surged to stop the fight as well.

Luckily, Tawnypelt was enough as she finally pulled with enough strength to make Brambleclaw lose grip of his opponent. Crowpaw took the time to give a last furious swipe at Brambleclaw’s belly before scrambling away. Squirrelpaw sprinted to him, looking over the panting apprentice, his fur was ruffled badly and there would certainly be some scars left on him by tomorrow.

“Are you okay?” Feathertail squeaked, pressing her nose against her friend’s fur.

Crowpaw didn’t answer, too busy reclaiming his breath, and glaring with incredible ferocity at the Thunderclan Warrior.

Brambleclaw glared back over the pelts of Stormfur and Tawnypelt, both holding the tom back. “Is he okay?! He attacked Squirrelpaw!”

Stormfur looked back at the apprentice icily. “He did what?”

Brambleclaw bared his teeth, “He had her pinned down, I saw it myself!”

Squirrelpaw rose up, her fangs clear as she hissed maliciously. She wasn’t going to let him try and turn the group against Crowpaw when he’d done nothing wrong. “No, he didn’t! We were just sparring!”

Whatever distrust the cats had of Crowpaw subsided as Squirrelpaw rushed to his defence. Even Stormfur’s harsh stare softened as the ginger apprentice questioned her clanmate. Brambleclaw froze, but his eyes still blazed with rage.

“But he was on top of you! He had you pinned!” Brambleclaw’s ire set back on the wounded apprentice. “I knew it was stupid to think you wouldn’t lose your mind at some point! You’ve always been looking for trouble!”

Crowpaw looked as if he wanted to become as wild as a tornado, but when he tried to stand he winced from the scratches embedded in his shoulders and his side. Squirrelpaw’s heart panged with worry and anger, turning on her clanmate with unsheathed claws.

“He wasn’t hurting me, you fox-brain!” Squirrelpaw yowled, keeping her body between the apprentice and Brambleclaw. She would be the one tearing out the Warrior’s fur before Crowpaw, that was certain. “Maybe if you’d actually bothered to look you might have noticed!”

“What I saw,” Brambleclaw muttered, as cold as frost, “Was a Windclan cat attack my clanmate! I had every reason to get involved!”

Squirrelpaw’s snarl was so vicious her gums were visible. Brambleclaw was not going to find a way to justify this. She could deal with whatever stupid comments came out of his trap, but he had attacked her friend! This was enough! “The only one attacking anyone was you!”

Brambleclaw’s jaw hung, he stammered, as if searching for a way to reason his anger. But Tawnypelt’s angry face burst in front of him. “That’s enough! Face it Brambleclaw, why would she be defending him if he had really attacked her? You made a mistake.” The Shadowclan Warrior seethed, her mouth contacting in a warning. “An extremely stupid mistake! Have you forgotten your own advice of how we should be working together instead of fighting?”

“A mistake? I was trying to help her!”

“I didn’t need your help!” Squirrelpaw growled, once again stung by Brambleclaw’s lack of faith in her abilities. “I can fight my own battles, and when I do it won’t be for no reason at all!”

Brambleclaw looked between the glares of his sister and his clanmate, the adrenaline of the fight dimming as his ears went flat against his head. He looked towards Stormfur, but the tom only returned a small frown his way. There would be no one to back him up here, not when Squirrelpaw so passionately denied his reasoning.

The Warrior’s breaths slowed as his muscles began to relax. Sensing no more fighting would occur, Tawnypelt and Stormfur eased away, but not enough to allow Brambleclaw an easy run at his opponent. The Thunderclan tom glanced at all the furious faces staring him down, and a brief flash of shame oozed from him. But as soon as his eyes settled on Crowpaw again, he darkened again fiercely turning his gaze between the two apprentices’.

“It is my duty as a Warrior, to protect my clanmate when I see them in danger.” Brambleclaw drawled with a slow venom. “I saw and I acted to what I thought was right.” His eyes narrowed on his clanmate. “Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t wasting your time with kittenish games!”

Squirrelpaw felt her claws tighten against the ground. It was unbelievable. Even when the group was against him, he still found a way to deflect the blame onto her. She moved her tongue to make some dry remark, but all that came out was a growl. “I hate you.”

There was nothing else to say.

Her clanmate’s brow creased, it was unclear whether it was anguish or malice. Overhead a cloud passed, covering the face of the sun and causing a great shadow to overcome the hills.

Tawnypelt stared at him with a vague disgust. It almost looked like the horror of remembering someone she wouldn’t wish to recognise.

Brambleclaw noticed it and his anger began to mix with a strained pain. The Shadowclan Warrior shook her head, almost piteously, turning to give Crowpaw a soft glance. “Crowpaw, can you walk okay?”

The Windclan apprentice shook a little, his teeth grinding as he felt all the eyes fall on him. On his wounds. He hissed as he rose to his feet, shaking off the support Feathertail offered. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He muttered, his gaze downcast. Feathertail and Squirrelpaw looked at each other worriedly.

“But you’re wounded.” Feathertail ushered.

“It’s just a couple scratches!” Crowpaw insisted, his voice raspy behind his teeth, as he began to clean his ruffled fur. Squirrelpaw wanted to interject; it wouldn’t be wise to just leave Crowpaw unchecked. But there was an intensity, a shame, in Crowpaw’s scowl that silenced her.

Tawnypelt looked as unconvinced as the rest of them, but she didn’t say anything more about it. “Alright, then we should try to make more ground. It’ll be dark soon after all.”

Stormfur muttered in agreement, displaying a weariness for how sour things had turned within minutes. He looked over at his sister, then to Crowpaw, offering a polite nod.

Squirrelpaw sensed Crowpaw stiffen.

“Come on.” Tawnypelt said, padding back in the direction of the setting sun. Out of the corner of her eye, she glared at her brother. “It’ll be over for us otherwise, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, Stormfur followed her. Brambleclaw stared into the space, his mouth thin, for a while before he offered another glance at the furious trio. Squirrelpaw knew he could feel her hatred for him. Good. A war seemed to go inside of him as while his eyes were still cold and unapologetic, his frown was rigid and weak. Something was breaking. It didn’t amount to anything though, as the Warrior finally just scoffed and turned on his tail, slowly making his way to the others.

Squirrelpaw sent another growl his way, loud enough to be heard, before she turned back to her friends. Feathertail was close by, the still ruffled, Crowpaw checking him over for wounds.

“Really, I’m fine.” Crowpaw stated, stepping away from the Riverclan molly. “Stop worrying about it, already.” He sounded dry with anger. Feathertail flinched, but she knew that he wasn’t trying to be hurtful, so he relented calmly.

“Okay.”

Squirrelpaw felt a stormy guilt rile in her gut. It has been her who had started the sparring after all. Her eye glinted at something white nearby, her breath caught, and she padded over to the flower, picking it up with her teeth.

“Here, let me.” She said through her fangs. Crowpaw’s eyes flickered at the image of the plant, but he kept his face stony. Still, he remained still, silently accepting.

Squirrelpaw tried to look calm as she wrapped the flower back into his now messy fur but ignoring the beating of her heart was nothing compared to Crowpaw’s expression. He forced his eyes away from hers, as if ashamed to meet her gaze. The fight had seemed to suck all his energy away.

Usually, Squirrelpaw would have found wounded pride something trivial and unimportant. But when she saw the stiff, humiliated expression on his face, her heart ached.

“Did you guys catch anything?” Crowpaw mumbled, talking to Feathertail despite his attempt to stare at his paws.

“Oh, um, yes. We did. When we’d finished, we met up with the others and then… went to look for you. two” Bless her heart, she was careful enough.

Crowpaw made a small sound of recognition, and Squirrelpaw finished getting the flower settled into his head again. She wiped away dust from the petals, trying her best to give her friend a smile.

“Don’t worry.” Squirrelpaw purred. Her heart stopped for a moment as she considered then decided on her next action. Smoothly, she licked Crowpaw’s cheek, cleaning away the dust of the fight. “They know it wasn’t your fault.”

She had hoped that that was what was bothering Crowpaw and that what she’d said would get him to return to the smiling face she loved so much to see.

But neither were true.

Instead Crowpaw met her eyes, still hot and upset with embarrassment and defeat. “Thanks.” He mumbled lethargically, breaking away from her to walk to where the others had gone. “Let’s go.”

He walked slowly, still waiting for them, but the mollies knew it was different. His tail was tucked despite his desperation to look unaffected.

But it was clear that he was exhausted.

Squirrelpaw swallowed as if she’d been chewing on nettles. How? How had everything go so badly that quickly? She just about managed to look appreciative when Feathertail gave her a comforting nudge and a small promise that it would get better. But Feathertail couldn’t hide the clear pain of seeing her friend look so wounded.

But it was the image of Crowpaw’s face that hung in Squirrelpaw’s mind. Even when he had broken down to her about his father, she’d never seen him look as ashamed as he had in those few seconds.

Squirrelpaw wanted him to get better. She wanted him to become friends with the others, and that did look more possible now they’d seen he wasn’t at fault. But, most of all, she wanted to see him smile again.

She just wanted him to be happy.

So she rushed over to where Crowpaw was, determined to not leave his side, not caring if it took the whole way to the Sun-drown place, because he was her friend. She would stick by him.

That was the only loyalty she could care about right now.

...

I hope you liked this chapter. I believe this is the chapter I disliked writing the most. But, some angst is important, so what are ya gonna do?

Anyway, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 8

Mat goes bar-hopping and contemplates obligations

Chapter 8: The Seven-Striped Lass

Oh it’s Mat. Well, enough people have told me Mat is better in this book than last, so if nothing else, confirmation bias alone should see me through.

(Though my indifference towards Mat extends further back than just last book, so… who knows).

He’s in a tavern, which should surprise absolutely no one, and thinking about how Aes Sedai are the bane of his existence, which… also should surprise absolutely no one.

Hey, now he and Thom can fidget with their Aes Sedai letters together. Safer than juggling knives in a world that doesn’t seem to have invented stress balls yet.

‘Master Crimson’? What is this, Cluedo?

And of course he’s not looking at women any more, definitely not noticing any of their, ahem, assets or anything, at least not for himself, you know, just keeping an eye out for his friends of course.

He’s also asking tavernkeepers for advice, because sometimes you just need a sounding board to convince yourself of what you already know. In this case, what to do about Verin’s letter and the conditions set on it. Which, to be fair, is a rather infuriating dilemma. When Verin plays games, she doesn’t fuck around.

“I could open it,” she continued to Mat, “and could tell you what’s inside.”

Bloody ashes! If she did that, he would have to do what it said. Whatever it bloody said. All he had to do was wait a few weeks, and he would be free. He could wait that long. Really, he could.

“It wouldn’t do,” Mat said

Aw, but wouldn’t it? I mean, Verin of all people would appreciate that kind of loophole.

“The woman who gave it to me was Aes Sedai, Melli. You don’t want to anger an Aes Sedai, do you?”

“Aes Sedai?” Melli suddenly looked eager. “I’ve always fancied going to Tar Valon, to see if they’ll let me join them.” She looked at the letter, as if more curious about its contents.

Light! The woman was daft.

Nah, she’s one of the rare sensible ones! Seriously, if I lived in a world with magic, in which there was a chance I could learn to do it, I would give approximately zero fucks about the reputation of the organisation that would enable me to learn it. (Yes, I know, it makes sense in this world that people are wary of Aes Sedai, but to me it’s one of those things like… oh, I don’t know, characters who decide they’re not actually interested in immortality because it would mean outliving their loved ones. Like okay, yeah, there’s a price, but magic. Immortality. I will never understand some fictional characters. Or maybe this just says something about me and which side I’d be on in these fictional worlds… but then, are we really surprised?)

“Can I trust you to keep your word?”

He gave her an exasperated look. “What was this whole bloody conversation about, Melli?”

‘Can I trust you to keep your word’ is kind of a… tautological question, though. And one that always amuses me, along with variations like ‘how can I trust you’ ‘I give you my word’. Because ultimately you’re still just left with the decision of whether or not you trust that person’s word. And no real way of knowing whether or not you should. Once again, I am perhaps exposing myself as not ideal hero material here.

I will say I’m impressed by Mat’s ability to not open the letter. Though I hope at some point we get to see what it says; Verin’s so good at this kind of thing it would be a shame not to see what game she set up here.

The bouncer doesn’t like Mat, which is kind of not surprising given that a bouncer’s job is to stop shit and the purpose of Mat’s entire existence is to start shit.

The paving stones were damp from a recent shower, though those clouds had passed by and—remarkably—left the sky open to the air.

I see what you did there.

Also I’m now trying to place this against everyone else’s timeline and it’s hurting my brain a little. The weather would suggest this is post-Dragonmount but I feel like Mat still had a bit of catch-up to do… ah well, I’m sure we’ll find out. For whatever reason timelines are something of an exception to my usual ability to retain details, probably because, weirdly enough, I often just… don’t care that much? In the sense that usually, when you actually need to know (or when it would be interesting or add something to the story to know), you’ll know.

Mat was not about any specific task tonight

Oh, wandering about at random are we? Which, if you’re Mat, means that regardless of how you started the night, you’ll almost certainly be about a certain task before you finish it. The Pattern has plans, after all.

Getting a feel for Caemlyn. A lot had changed since he had been here last.

Wow, okay, yeah, as the reader we’ve been in Caemlyn plenty over the past several books, but Mat was last here in book three. Damn.

A lot has changed since then. In Caemlyn, yes, but also Mat has changed quite a lot since then. It’s interesting, even in real life, going back to a place you either visited or knew well in the past. The sense of familiarity but at a slight distance, along with the memory of when you were there last, which can then serve to highlight how you’ve changed. And then all the things that aren’t familiar, though you can’t always be certain if that’s just because you’re seeing them differently…

Light, he had heard of paving stones attacking people.

What is this, the French Revolution?

Mat’s found a better tavern, by which I mean a worse tavern, but it’s all a matter of perspective and perspective is a funny thing at the tail end of a pub crawl, so let’s just not think too hard about it.

I’m suddenly very interested in the story of this woman with breeches and short hair dicing in a dodgy tavern with three dudes and not responding to any of Mat’s smiles, ahem. Yes I’m being pandered to, no I don’t care.

But Mat did not smile at girls that way anymore. Besides, she had not responded to any of his smiles anyway.

Alright, that’s much closer to Jordan’s Mat. The absolute lack of self-awareness in being able to think those sentences side-by-side, because hey, Mat, if you don’t smile at girls that way anymore, how do you know she’s not responding to them? (Plus the fact that Mat’s ‘best smile’ has, I’m pretty sure, not actually worked once this series when he’s actually thought about it).

From these first few pages in general, Mat does sound somewhat more how I would expect him to—the way his thoughts and actions contradict themselves, his tendency towards an absolute lack of self-awareness, the running joke of his ‘best smile’… though it also feels like it’s being laid on a little thick? Almost as if Sanderson has picked out a handful of things that work, or that have appeared elsewhere, and is studiously applying them and avoiding adding in too much else or deviating too much from those narrow bounds.

But that’s almost certainly me nitpicking and also looking specifically for this; it’s not really a complaint and at first glance this does seem better than the writing of Mat last book, so… fair enough. Point is, this is definitely not as jarring to read as that first chapter last book was. Still different, sure, but more within the parameters of the rest of the differences.

Mat’s more interested in the local gossip, which—ah.

“They found him dead this morning. Throat ripped clean out. Body was drained of blood, like a wineskin full of holes.”

The gholam’s back in town, then.

Well, in town, anyway; I suppose it hasn’t actually been to Caemlyn before, that we’ve seen. Hey, Elayne? Maybe listen to Birgitte and your bodyguards for a bit and actually take a break from your errands and adventures into the city alone for a bit.

Dice are landing on their corners and also starting up in Mat’s head, so looks like your night of aimless fun and tourism is coming to an end, Mat. Don’t forget to sign the guestbook on your way out.

It seemed impossible that [the gholam] could have gotten here this quickly. Of course, Mat had seen it squeeze through a hole not two handspans wide. The thing did not seem to have a right sense of what was possible and what was not possible.

Oh, well, in that case you two have something in common! Good, you won’t run out of things to say on your next date encounter.

Though on a less flippant note, I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about this before, but I like how Mat gets paired against or linked with opponents or entities who fall into the larger umbrella archetype of ‘trickster figure’ but in different or darker ways: the gholam, the Eelfinn and Aelfinn, arguably Fain/Mordeth… and then there’s Perrin, who is set against Trollocs (the darker side of a mix between animal and human) and Whitecloaks (who exist to force questions of morality). As if they’re both sometimes set against those who reflect a darker or warped version of some aspect of who they are.

It’s not a perfect like-to-like matching; they have other opponents who don’t fit that kind of classification quite as well (though I would still argue that just about any enemy they—and quite a few other characters—face highlight some aspect of themselves via contrast or by presenting a warped kind of mirror), but it’s just a little… random thing I quite like. Particularly Mat set against other types of trickster, because it fits with the very definition or idea of what a trickster figure is in the first place. This idea of looking into a kaleidoscope of mirrors and seeing theme and variation until they flicker at the edges.

He had sent word to [Elayne], but had not gotten a reply. How was that for gratitude? By his count, he had saved her life twice.

Sigh. I sort of thought they had reached an understanding as far as the accounting between them last time they spoke, but I guess we’re still doing this. Which, okay, before everyone comes for me on this, yes he has saved her life multiple times, and no she has not always responded immediately with gratitude, but specifically in the last instance she very much did, and it was a rather lovely moment where they both saw more in each other than they had before. Where they each realised that their previous (first) impressions were not necessarily the full truth, and that there was someone to like beneath that. A friend, even.

And I liked that; I absolutely have a soft spot for the friendship between Mat and Elayne, in part because they’re actually quite similar in a lot of ways. And so for both of them to start to see beneath the surface, to see more than just what they expect to see, was a nice moment of character growth for both of them.

Anyway, leaving the gratitude thing aside, it’s a shame Elayne hasn’t replied, if only because I wouldn’t mind seeing those two interact again. I just like their weird relationship. I like weird friendships between characters in general, really; it’s a good way to get to see a character from an ever-so-slightly different angle, or throw them into a slightly different kind of light. (In all honesty there’s a small part of me that would have been very open to an Elayne/Mat relationship rather than Elayne/Rand and Mat/Tuon, but mostly I just like them as friends who sort of… force each other to take a second look at things, and in doing so to realise some things about themselves).

For once, there had been a battle and he had missed it. Remembering that lightened his mood somewhat. An entire war had been fought over the Lion Throne, and not one arrow, blade, or spear had entered the conflict seeking Matrim Cauthon’s heart.

Yeah, well, don’t jinx it.

Also Mat you were sort of in the middle of some of your own battles and while you’re pretty good, you’re not quite good enough to be in two places at once. Still, can’t fault him for looking on the bright side, I suppose. Especially because there’s a rather large battle headed his way any day now.

Three inns in one night. Making a proper pub crawl of it, I see.

Though Thom’s more in the mood to play sad flute music, presumably over Moiraine. I mean fair; I, too, would probably play several laments for her sake. Bring her back already.

Caemlyn was seen as one of the few places where one could be safe from both the Seanchan and the Dragon.

Oh no doubt it’ll stay that way. What could possibly go wrong in this beautiful Camelot that’s been held up since Book 1 as an example of beauty and (relative) stability?

I’m pretty sure one of the first things I said upon seeing Caemlyn back in EotW was ‘that’s a nice city you have there. It’d be a shame if something happened to it’ and, twelve books later, I stand by that.

Mat tries to get Thom’s attention by snagging his coins, and Thom just tosses a knife through his sleeve without interrupting his playing. Respect.

***

Oh hey a mid-chapter break without a POV change. That’s unusual.

It’s something of a location change, though, because Mat’s back at the Band’s camp now, considering the pros and cons of horse meat. Well, mostly cons in his opinion but I would like to state for the record that horse is actually quite tasty. No of course I don’t know this from experience what are you talking about.

The gholam of course has an even less discriminating palate—or I suppose technically more discriminating, just less socially acceptable.

But Mat and Thom have moved on to planning for their fieldtrip to the Tower of Ghenjei, because, you know, these characters have it easy: just one thing at a time, all easily dealt with, no piling on of way too many problems and decisions and things or people out to kill them…

“Maybe Verin will come back and release me from this bloody oath.”

Unfortunately she had to take some rather drastic measures to release herself from a different bloody oath, so uh… sorry, Mat, you’re out of luck on that one.

“Best that one stays away,” Thom said. “I don’t trust her. There’s something off about that one.”

I mean, you’re not wrong. But you’re also not exactly right. Man, I’m going to miss Verin. She’s one I very much look forward to seeing on a reread: there was always something about her and it was great fun to speculate and try to work out exactly what her deal was, but it’s different when you know. And we got so very little time with her once that was revealed—it was a hell of a way to go out, of course, but I’m definitely excited to see how she reads when you know from the beginning.

“Either way,” Thom said, “we should probably start sending guards with you when you visit the city.”

“Guards won’t help against the gholam.”

“No, but what of the thugs who jumped you on your way back to camp three nights back?”

You know what this reminds me of? Birgitte scolding Elayne when Elayne tries to go out on her own. It’s far from the only thing Elayne and Mat have in common, but it does amuse me.

Talking to that clerk meant Elayne knew Mat was here. She had to. But she had sent no greetings, no acknowledgement that she owed Mat her skin.

Maybe because she acknowledged it last time the two of you spoke? Or have you forgotten? I think that’s what irks me here: they’ve already had that conversation. It made sense (more or less) for Mat to be annoyed about Tear, before Elayne and Nynaeve gave him their thanks and apologies, but after that fight with the gholam in the Rahad, Elayne and Mat seemed to clear the air between them, so it’s just… kind of weird and a bit annoying to have this dragged out again. It seems like it would make more sense at this stage for him to just be annoyed at her for ignoring him, rather than for not thanking him for… something she’s already thanked him for.

He does shift after that to wondering how to get her to set all her foundries to making Aludra’s dragons, which is a much more pertinent question. I now kind of want Elayne and Aludra to meet. I feel like that could be entertaining.

Teslyn Baradon was not a pretty woman, though she might have made a passable paperbark tree

This should sound insulting but for whatever reason I find it hilarious. Why is this so funny.

Maybe this is why we were getting Mat’s grumbling about Elayne not thanking him (again) for saving her life: because thanks are the first thing Teslyn, an Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah, offers Mat unprompted. That would more or less fit with how these things are usually set up in Mat’s narrative, I suppose.

Though Sanderson doesn’t quite seem to have the hang of the Illian dialect; it’s close but some of the phrasing is just a bit off. But that’s me nitpicking again.

“It do be important to maintain some illusions with yourself, would you not say?”

Wiser words than you may even realise, Teslyn, given who you’re talking to. Though I think she does realise this; she’s quite perceptive, and she’s spent a fair bit of time with Mat now, and I think she very likely does see his tendency towards… perhaps not quite denial anymore, at least not as strong as it once was, but a degree of self-deception (and total lack of self-awareness, of course).

She nodded to him. A respectful nod. Almost a bow. Mat released her hand, feeling as unsettled as if someone had kicked his legs out from underneath him.

Yeah, this is what you’d expect from Mat. This is what he does: grumbles to himself about lack of gratitude, or Aes Sedai causing problems and having no respect… but then as soon as that gratitude or respect is shown, he doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. Because he’s not actually arrogant enough to accept it with haughty disdain, but nor is he self-effacing enough to truly not care about getting praise and credit. So you end up in this awkward in-between state that is, I think, actually quite common amongst people in general. It’s definitely something I see play out in the workplace, at least.

And so he offers her the horses that, last book, he refused Joline. Because she’s shown him respect and so he will return the favour. Because they’re treating each other as people, and Mat may push for what he feels is his due, but he won’t just take it without giving something in return. He’s better than he likes to think he is, as Thom once pointed out.

“I did not come to you tonight to manipulate you into giving me horses,” Teslyn said. “I do be sincere.”

“So I figured,” Mat said, turning and lifting up the flap to his tent. “That’s why I made the offer.”

And that’s it, really. It’s amazing what open and honest communication can get you, sometimes. It’s almost like that’s a running thing in this series.

There, he froze. That scent…

Blood.

Mmmm, dinner.

Next (ToM ch 9) Previous (ToM ch 7)

[trvelyans-archive]

wanting

for @goblin-deity <3 adam and jamie being Babies !!! bc they are Babies !!! and i hope you enjoy !!!

-

The Detective’s hand was so soft.

How was it so soft?

Adam sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair impatiently as he stares at the dummy in front of him. In the four days that have passed since the carnival – and those four days have felt very long, even for a vampire who has lived 900 years – Jamie’s hand, the one Adam held, is all he can think about. It was so much softer than his own, so much smaller – so much stronger, too, at least in that moment, his fingers clinging onto Adam so tightly that he thought that Jamie would never let go. Like his fingerprints would be etched into Adam’s skin forever.

(Not that Adam would mind that.)

He’s has never thought much about his own hands. They’re big, wide – they can lift things, hold things together, and hit things hard enough to be sufficient in a fight. He doesn’t think much about his hands because he doesn’t need to, but he hopes that Jamie does. He hopes that Jamie wants to. And then he wonders what exactly Jamie would think about those hands doing.

(Sometimes Adam thinks about what Jamie’s hands would do to him. Sometimes he wonders if they’d still be soft when – if, he reminds himself, if – they touched all the other parts of his body.)

With a grunt, he steps forward and lashes out at the dummy with his fist before following it up with a blow to the stomach. Adam doesn’t have time for this – the Detective was distracting enough before, but now that… well, whatever it was that happened at the carnival happened, he’s going to be even harder to ignore and much harder forget. Which is exactly what Adam should be trying to do, but he can’t.

He grits his teeth and hits the dummy again, frowning hard. He thought that he would never have these feelings again – he hasn’t been with anyone since before he was turned, after all, and the 900 years he’s lived alone have passed by with little in the way of romance – but now that they’ve returned, he doesn’t know how to control them. He doesn’t know what to do to make them stop.

Perhaps there’s nothing he can do. Perhaps he can’t. And there’s nothing Adam hates more than that.

He punches the dummy again and sends it wobbling backwards a second before it topples over, hitting the ground of the training room with a hard thud. Adam growls in frustration, and a moment later, the door opens.

Of course it’s Nate. The very last person Adam wants to see right now.

Usually Adam has little qualms with confiding in Nate – not that he has none, of course – but the last thing he wants to talk about with him is the detective. Nate doesn’t understand. He understands other things, experiences they’ve shared in their times as vampires, but he doesn’t understand this. He couldn’t understand this – Adam’s apprehension, his fear, and most of all, his adoration. His complete and utter adoration for Jamie that feels like it’s straight out of a Shakespearian tragedy, a comparison that Jamie would probably like.

(Adam met Shakespeare. He didn’t like him very much.)

“Hey,” Nate says warmly, sliding into the room and shutting the door behind him. “Working hard or hardly working?” After a pause, he adds to himself, “I think that’s how the saying goes…”

Adam snorts. “Take a guess.”

“I would,” Nate replies, smiling. “But I don’t think you’d like my answer.”

With a sigh, Adam turns to Nate, bending down to grab his shirt and pull it over his head. It does little to help him maintain what’s left of his dignity, but it does enough. “What do you want, Nate?”

Nate shrugs and leans against the door. “Nothing,” he says. “I was just wondering if you wanted to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Adam answers, his words short and clipped. “And – there’s certainly nothing I want to talk about. Unless Agent Murphy needs something, in which case –“

“Adam.” Nate nearly rolls his eyes, but stops himself at the last second. “You can’t keep avoiding this forever.”

“Avoiding what?” Adam asks even though he knows the answer very well.

“Your feelings for Jamie,” Nate says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if it isn’t tearing Adam’s heart to shreds. As if it won’t end the way Adam fears it will – as if it won’t destroy him. Because it will destroy him, one way or another.

Adam’s lip curls in a sneer. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he answers, almost immediately wincing at the defensiveness in his tone.

“I do understand.” Nate takes a step forward, his voice even and measured. “You’re scared of Jamie getting hurt, right? That you won’t always be there to save him?”

That’s exactly what he’s worried about. It’s all he can think about now when he’s not on patrol, especially after what happened with those Trappers outside of the Warehouse a few weeks ago. Still, he wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to talk about this, Nate –“

“Adam, you don’t know how it will end.”

“I do!” he says. Nate’s eyes widen, surprised at Adam’s outburst, and Adam pauses for a moment to collect himself. “I do know, Nate. The maa-alused woman told me.”

He frowns. “What did she say?”

With a heavy sigh, Adam runs a hand over his scalp. However many weeks it’s been since their first night at the carnival, Sanja’s words echo in his head. He isn’t sure they’ll ever go away. “That even if we… embrace the light, the darkness to come will swallow us both,” he answers. “The darkness, Nate. And if I make it through that and Jamie doesn’t…”

“We’ll take care of him,” Nate assures him, though a sudden shakiness to his voice betrays that he doesn’t seem to entirely believe it himself. “You and me, Rebecca and the team. We’ll take care of him, Adam. We will keep him safe.”

“I would do anything for him,” Adam confesses under his breath. He closes his eyes, the truth nearly crushing him under the weight of it on his heavy heart. “I would do anything, Nate.”

“And I would do anything for you, old friend.” Nate claps his hand onto Adam’s shoulder, squeezing him gently. “Including telling you that you should talk to the detective, whether you want to hear that or not, and that you should let yourself have feelings for him. You should let yourself be happy, even for a little while. You shouldn’t have to deny yourself of these feelings forever. I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Adam sighs. “You shouldn’t have to do that,” he says. He doesn’t like relying on people, and he already relies on the team and the detective far too much for his liking. “And I can’t ask you to.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you didn’t, and good that I’m going to do it anyway.” He smiles at Adam, his dark brown eyes sparkling. “It will be worth it. Go see him.” Before he leaves the room, he turns around on last time. “And, if you’re looking for an excuse, you could try bringing him a drink.”

“Goodbye, Nate,” Adam says, ushering his friend through the door with a tense smile before shutting it behind him.

His smile falters, however, once Nate’s footsteps fade into silence, and he leans against the door and slides onto the ground, pressing his face into his hands. How he let himself turn into such a fool, he’ll never know, but there’s nothing he can do about it now, all things considered. He’ll just have to wait and see what becomes of this – at least what becomes of this before, well, whatever darkness it is that’s awaiting them in the future…

He stays there for a few moments, collecting himself, before he stands up and heads for his room to get ready.

-

An hour later, Adam is standing at the foot of the detective’s apartment building, a to-go cup clutched so tightly in his fist he’s scared it’s going to crush it. That would be unfortunate – he’s wearing his cleanest white shirt, and he could do without spilling a hot drink all over it, especially considering that would require him to embarrass himself before even entering the detective’s home. After a deep breath, he strides up the front stairs and into the building.

His footsteps echo through the empty hallways, and he moves slowly in the direction of Jamie’s apartment, trying to figure out what he’s going to say. He could greet him normally and pretend there’s an Agency matter he needs to discuss with him, but – well, there isn’t, so a lie like that could cause trouble in the near future. He could say he was on patrol and wanted to stop by, but if he was on patrol then he wouldn’t have had time to go and buy Jamie a drink, so that’s out of the question. Or he could say that…

Or he could say that he just wanted to see him. After the carnival, that probably wouldn’t come as much of a surprise.

Either way, he’s knocking on Jamie’s front door before he can think twice about it.

“Hello?” Jamie calls from somewhere inside the apartment.

Even just hearing his voice makes Adam’s knees weak – it’s so familiar, so soft. Just like his hand, and just like the rest of him, probably. Adam shakes his head and clears his throat. “Hello, Detective, it’s…” He sighs. “It’s, uh, Agent du Mortain. I mean – Adam. It’s me.”

Fool.

“Oh!” There’s an awkward pause on the other side of the door and Adam frowns, unsure of how to move forward. “Uh – come in, the door should be open. I’m just changing.”

“Oh.” He closes his eyes. “It’s… Er, it’s fine, I can wait. Outside.”

He should turn on his heel and leave, really. He’s already embarrassed himself plenty.

“Adam.” He can hear Jamie laughing. “Just come in.”

Jaw clenched, Adam grabs the doorknob and reluctantly heads inside.

He’s been here enough to remember the layout. He doesn’t think he will ever forget it. From a tactical standpoint, he has counterattacks and defenses planned for and from every corner of the room – using pieces of furniture, his teammates, and himself as a means to protect the detective. He’s even spent a few distracted, aimless nights going over new tactics with every supernatural he remembers they should prepare for – that Jamie should prepare for, he always reminds himself – but it’s a long list, and he doesn’t always have time to sit down with it like he would like to.

Maybe he’ll do that instead of training whenever he’s frustrated. The Agency doesn’t have enough funds to keep supplying them with new dummies whenever he destroys them.

He places the to-go cup of earl grey on a coffee table and folds his arms over his chest, glancing around the room. It’s nicely decorated, as far as human homes go, but what catches his eye are the pictures on the bookshelves. He hasn’t examined them much before – he’s never felt the need to – but now, standing in the detective’s apartment and waiting for him to finish changing, it’s a very welcome distraction.

There are a couple of pictures of a younger Jamie, one Adam doesn’t entirely recognize at first – he has different hair, a rounder face. None of his current scars. There are a handful of framed theatre pamphlets and pictures to go along with them, as well, including a few of Jamie wearing a lopsided pair of headphones and an even more lopsided smile, and one in the middle of his bookshelf of him and Tina where her grin is wide but his is even wider, despite the harsh lighting of the hospital.

Adam clenches his fist by his sides. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he can’t even hear Jamie walking into the room.

“Ah, that’s one of my favourites,” Jamie says, sidling up beside Adam with his dress shirt half-unbuttoned.

Adam frowns. “Why?” he asks. He would never keep a memento of what he assumes to be a painful memory, let alone keep it on display. (Perhaps he’s just upset because he doesn’t like seeing Jamie hurt.)

Jamie shrugs, continuing to try and button up his shirt with one hand while the other grips his cane. “I don’t know,” he answers. “I just like it.”

He’s told them about the accident a few times before. He talked about it with Adam the day he drove him home after the carnival when he was nearly falling asleep in the passenger seat. It’s part of the reason Adam asked him to text him or call him whenever Jamie drives home from the Warehouse, especially at night – Adam can’t help but worry.  He turns to him with a response but can’t get the words out before his eyes catch on Jamie’s fingers, struggling to finish up with the last few buttons of his shirt.

“Here,” he says in an effort to distract his mind from wandering. “Let me.”

Jamie glances towards him. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Adam stalls for a moment before nodding. “Unless you have an issue with that, in which case–“

“No,” Jamie says hurriedly. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

Adam tries to ignore the other man beaming. If he doesn’t, he’ll do something he might regret.

(Though now, with Jamie in front of him, it’s hard to regret anything. Anything leading up to this point and anything that’s going to come after.)

“So,” Jamie says, clearing his throat as Adam works slowly at his buttons. “Did you need something?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t usually drop by without texting me first,” Jamie continues. “Or, uh, getting Felix to do it.”

“Yes, well…” Adam purses his lips. He hadn’t expected that he would have to explain himself so soon, but tries not to let himself panic. (Which he shouldn’t be doing, because he’s not a man who panics. Adam du Mortain has nothing to panic about.) “I was on patrol, and thought I would stop by to check on you.”

“Mason usually patrols at this time, doesn’t he?”

Damn. That’s true. And Adam would have no reason for taking Mason’s shift – Jamie would know that very well. He pauses for a moment, considering. “Yes,” he says, “but –“

And then he sighs. “I wasn’t on patrol,” he admits. “I just… perhaps I just wanted to see you.”

“Did you now?” Jamie asks.

Adam would find that entirely un-funny if he weren’t so flustered. “Yes,” he responds simply.

“Is there a reason you came to see me?”

Adam ignores the slight hopefulness in his voice and drops his hands from the other man’s shirt, stepping away from him and gesturing towards the cup. “I brought you… a drink,” he says. It sounds completely pathetic right now, but… perhaps that’s fitting. He feels completely pathetic right now, too, because he’s come all this way and Jamie hasn’t even said anything about what happened at the carnival.

Perhaps Adam should bring it up first…

Jamie bends down to grab the cup, lifts it to his nose, and pulls the lid away. “Oh,” he says, smiling as he sniffs it. “It’s my favourite.”

Adam nods, biting back a smile. The last thing he wants is for Jamie to know how pleased he is by that statement. “Nate said –“

Fortunately, he stops himself before he can finish, but unfortunately, it’s enough that one of Jamie’s eyebrows raises and he looks at Adam curiously.

“You were talking about me to Nate?”

Fool.

Adam splutters. “I –“ He glances away, frowning. “Do you enjoy embarrassing me, Detective?”

“Maybe,” Jamie answers. Adam doesn’t know if he’s joking or not. “But seriously - thank you, Adam, for… bringing me this. Is there, uh…” He exhales. “Is there anything else you wanted?”

Adam swallows the lump in his throat. “As I stated previously,” he begins, “I came to check on you. After everything with the maa-alused, I wanted to make sure that…” He trails off. “Now that I know you’re safe, I should… go.”

He doesn’t want to go, of course, because then he has to go back to the Warehouse, and the last thing he wants to do right now is go back to the Warehouse where he’s sure Felix will be waiting to make fun of him for leaving in the first place. Despite himself, he looks to Jamie, who says, “Or you could stay? It seems like you have something on your mind…”

“I don’t,” Adam responds.

“Yes, you do,” Jamie shoots back. Adam curses to himself. “I can tell.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Adam says defensively.

“Adam.”

He sighs, his shoulders tensing. “What happened the other night,” he starts uncertainly. “At the Carnival.”

Jamie crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for Adam to continue.

But he doesn’t want to, because then he’ll get confirmation on the detective’s feelings, and if Jamie feels the same way about Adam that Adam feels for him…

Then what?

Adam hasn’t been in a relationship in a long time. He doesn’t know how to be in a relationship. Human courting is so different nowadays. (Especially because they don’t even call it courting.). And besides, neither of them has the time for that, right? It would never work. It could never work.

And he knows that, so what is he doing?

“Yeah?” Jamie replies.

Adam clears his throat. “I don’t know,” he says, casting his eyes downwards. “I suppose I wanted to know your thoughts on it.”

There’s silence from Jamie. Adam glances up to see him biting his lip.

“What are your thoughts on it?” Jamie asks, his fingers running over the back of Adam’s knuckles, up the length of his thumb.

The touch is so soft. Jamie’s hand is so soft. Adam grits his teeth.

“I have none,” he says. It’s a blatant lie, but he doesn’t care how convincing it is at this point.

“That’s not true,” Jamie retorts.

“What are your thoughts, then?” Adam replies in challenge. “Detective?”

“I think you know my thoughts, Adam.”

He winds his fingers through Adam’s and squeezes his hand. Gently, but enough that Adam can feel it. Feel him from where he stands in front of him, hear his heartbeat from where he stands in front of him, the light from a nearby lamp casting handsome shadows over his face that makes Adam’s heartbeat pick up until matches pace.

It’s too much, too fast.

“I… I have to return to the Warehouse,” he says, pulling away and striding towards the door. “I’m glad you’re doing well, Detective –“

“Adam –“

“I will be in contact,” Adam continues, wringing his hands, “when I - when the Agency needs you.”

“What happened to off-kilter?”

Adam pauses at the door, clenching the doorknob hard in his fist.

He is not a soft man. He’s hardened himself to the world. He’s spent the past 900 years looking forward without giving anyone so much as a second glance, and he doesn’t want to hurt the detective. But Jamie has held Adam’s hand twice now, too, and Adam’s seen the way that Jamie looks at him – Adam is not the only one who feels that utter adoration.

It’s worth it. It’ll be worth it. He knows that.

But not now. Not today.

“I can’t talk about this right now,” Adam says finally. “I’m sorry.”

Jamie sighs behind him. “Okay,” he replies.

“But…” Adam turns around. “Another day.”

Jamie’s face lights up with a smile. “Okay,” he repeats. “Another day.”

Adam leaves without any further ceremony, opening the door and hurrying through it as gracefully as he can with his jaw clenched tight, and only when he’s down the stairs and outside once more does he raise his hand and stare down it, his fingers curling in on themselves.

Well, now he’s just going to be even more distracted. You’re a fool, Adam tells himself, running his thumb over his own palm. A fool.

But a soft smile plays on his lips, and it lingers there the whole drive home.

[zynart]

i just want to be someone capable of experiencing peace of mind

I feel like I fit the profile of someone that either rediscovers religion or enters a cult in my thirties. Spiritual crisis, aimlessness and emptiness, a deterministic way of thinking that leaves no room for anything like grace, fully internalized idea of my sins as irredeemable

Right now, my (unwanted, but present) skepticism makes it hard for me to buy into anything but I yearn for an authority I wholly trust to tell me there’s a greater purpose, path to redemption, that humanity isn’t doomed in some other world if not this one, that life isn’t a deterministic machine

Which I think is why a lot of people get into religion or weird religious cults? Not gullibility, as much as needing something simpler you can throw yourself into that’ll ease all that existential terror. If this whole file had a thesis statement, it would be to see human beings charitably as deeply flawed people driven by our subconscious needs and a drive to avoid psychological distress by correcting cognitive dissonances and existential terror, that that’s a powerful enough drive to make seemingly smart and rational people who stupid and irrational things, that people who do those things aren’t any lesser than you and that you’re no less susceptible to some for of it

If I could just shut out the skeptical voice in my head I'd be happier. I value the skepticism of “knowing” “objective” “reality” less than I would value being happy and fulfilled and less unmoored. I’m miserable. If something can trick me into being less miserable, less adrift, less nihilistic, I want it

I might have a need for independence and hatred of authority and a need to think and think and think and think over everything I believe to make sure it’s true and justifiable and internally consistent. The idea of some hippie commune trying to build a utopian city and a spiritual authority whose legitimacy I buy into just sounds like an elusive actual peace of mind

I watched Wild Wild Country not long ago and was surprised by what I took away from it. Osho and Sheila might have been shady, the cult may have been disingenuous, but the concept of finding purpose in building something new drew me in so powerfully. It sounded peaceful. I used to find that purpose in trying to make a better world, but this world no longer feels like it can get better, or I’ve gotten too cynical to think I can contribute to making it better

The person I am now couldn’t do that. But I can see how, one possibility of me continuing down this path (and I hope I don’t, I hope I find something meaningful in real life) is my spirit being crushed enough by the time I’m 35 that I become someone that wants that. It’s not about whether it’s true. It’s about how I’m really not sure that being miserable while knowing things is better than being blissfully wrong. Or that whether or not religion and the afterlife is real, if I’m really going to cease to exist once I die, believing in some versions of an afterlife until I do might make the time that I’m still alive so much less miserable. I want to sink into it, shut down the cynical part of my brain and let myself feel some kind of peace

I don’t know if it’s just me. It might well be. A generation living through the Great Recession and the rise of the global far-right and constant news of how awful the world is and the steady march of climate change, and forever war,

And the tech dystopia, and fake-news breakdown of our shared reality, obscene inequality, the lack of faith in democratic institutions, the disillusionment of really seeing how meritocracy is fake and complete idiots have all the money and power in the world, and the impending end of human civilization,

and with… sometimes, a rigid idea of permanent sin without grace (I refuse to call this cancel culture) and revolution eschatology

Maybe we would prob be attracted to something that offers simplicity, purpose, the chance to unburden yourself of burnout, the hope a better world exists whether it’s in Heaven or in some enclave you build yourself, that offers absolution, an excuse to leave behind Online and our tech dystopia and social media cynicism/shallowness and our constant self-monitoring panopticon

And a spirituality separate from the... deterministic kind of spiritual guidance that we currently get from psychology or sociology concepts of how the brain works and common therapy tools for how to deal with the self, where sometimes you can feel like a bunch of diagnostic categories overlapping with the world

I guess what I’m saying is… I’ll be seeing a dozen of you in ten years, in some hippie commune led by some bullshit mystic where we spend our days building a new society from scratch.

Soon maybe we won’t even have to do it in real life. Soon the software to make entire virtual reality worlds and computers powerful enough to run them will be as ubiquitous as Photoshop, and we’ll end up making our own VR enclaves with both social rules and the actual physical laws of the universe something we can make up beautifully from scratch. A world where when we’re in physical danger, we can just switch locations or reset, and where most of our belongings are open-source code and not corporate creations, who knows? The point is I want to believe, in something

[back to home]

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

C for The Toqgers, with rainbow colors please

C is for colors.

Contains spoilers for ToQger Returns, if you haven’t seen it.

Red

Right moves away, but he doesn’t stay gone.

They all agreed to stay in touch after he moved, of course, and he’d talked about catching the Rainbow Line back to see them, but none of them actually expect him to do it. He’s not always terribly reliable. But they all get to the hideout one day, and there he is, grinning at them from a tree branch.

Hikari says, “Aren’t you going to be in trouble with your mom for just...coming here?”

“Nah, I told her I’d be back for dinner.” Right’s got a massive package with him, wrapped in red fabric. “I brought bento from Wagon. She says hi!”

--

Pink

Everyone looks at the cake warily, and Right says, “...you made this?”

“With my mom!” Kagura beams at him. “I’ve been practicing with her. I did all the frosting myself, though.”

“I can...I can see that.” Tokacchi blinks as if he’s been blinded. The frosting is, admittedly, a violent shade of pink, so maybe none of them should have been surprised. “What...flavor is it?”

“Lemon and vanilla.” She cuts a slice, plates it, and hands it and a fork to Hikari before he can object. “Here, try it!”

She’s already cutting slices for the others when Hikari takes the first bite, and his eyes go wide. “This is delicious,” he says, mouth still mostly full. “The frosting is great.”

Mio looks at him and stifles a giggle. “It made your mouth pink, though.”

“What?” He grabs for a napkin and wipes his mouth, but a smear of pink remains on his skin.

Kagura claps her hands over his mouth. “Ohhh, I must have used the wrong food coloring.”

--

Orange

Tokacchi’s the first of them to get a cell phone of his own, when they’re thirteen, and he’s the really brainy one, so it’s not surprising when he figures out how to call the Appli-Changer from it. They all gather around, breathless, when he types in the strange too-long number and the ringing begins.

It’s Mio, being sensible as always, who says, “I hope he’s learned how to answer his phone by now.”

Almost before she finishes the sentence, though, there’s a little click sound and a familiar voice says, “Hello?”

All five of them burst into a chorus of greetings. Tokacchi says, “Akira! It’s us!”

“...Tokacchi? How did you call me?”

“I have a phone now! I got Conductor to give me your number. There’s a Rainbow Line app, he had to give me a password to download it. How’s Tank Top Shadow?”

There’s a long pause, and then they can hear it, they can hear him smiling a little, and he says, “It’s good to hear from all of you. He’s well, thanks. Are you, uh. Doing well in school?”

--

Yellow

They’re all fourteen, and Mio and Kagura are sprawled on the grass under the tree, and Mio says, “Do you ever think about that girl we met in Zawame?”

Kagura rolls over towards her and frowns. “Sometimes, why?”

“That city was really weird.”

“Yeah, it was. Those fruit smoothies we got were really good, though.”

“Yeah.” Mio sighs. “Mine had lemon in it. I feel like I can never find anything good that’s lemon-flavored.”

“I could always make you lemon cake again.“ Kagura shifts a little closer, resting her head on Mio’s arm. “And I’ll frost it bright yellow, just for you. Oh, look, that cloud looks like a lion!”

Mio squints up at it and grins. “It does, doesn’t it.”

--

Green

When they’re fifteen, Hikari gets into a study abroad program and spends four months in Germany. He’s excited, but they’re all stressed out about not seeing each other, and of course with the time difference it’s really hard to call. They keep up on WhatsApp, he sends the others pictures of all the places he’s visiting, but it’s not the same as hearing their voices.

One day, though he gets the urge to move his legs, and he doesn’t have schoolwork to do, so he lets his host family know he’s going out and wanders down into the town. There’s a train station near the house; it’s not historic or anything, but it’s pretty. Aimless, he wanders through, glancing at the shop windows, watching the passers-by.

And a voice says, “Hikari~~~”

He looks up in surprise. “Wagon?”

The Rainbow Line is pulled up at an empty terminal, and Wagon is leaning out the door, waving to him. “Rainbow Line European Express, boarding now!”

He gapes. “What are you doing in Germany?”

Right’s face appears under Wagon’s elbow as he leans out to wave as well. “We all finished our homework, so the others texted me and we thought we’d come visit you for lunch!”

--

Blue

Tokacchi’s scores on his university entrance exams are so good that he gets a letter congratulating him, but when he shows it to the others, the first thing Kagura says is, “You don’t seem happy about it.”

“Well, it’s.” He shuffles. “It’s scary, you know? We’ve mostly managed to stay together this whole time, even if Right’s not here--”

“I’m here!” Right shouts from Mio’s phone, “I’m here, just because I’m on the phone doesn’t mean I’m not here.”

“Well, ok, Right is here, we’ve managed to stay together all this time, but. This is really big. Bigger than Right moving, because we can call him, and he comes over on the train all the time. This is...all of us going in different directions. I’m going to university and Mio’s going to a different university and Hikari’s going to go to one in Hokkaido and Kagura’s staying here and Right’s got a job already...” He sighs. “Remember future us? And we were all sad?”

“Sure, but that was before we fixed things.” Mio hugs him one-armed.

Kagura leans back against his chest and looks up at him with smile and says, “And we’ll meet up every year.”

“And maybe sometimes more times a year if we need to do hero stuff,” Right says on speakerphone. “Like that time a couple of years ago with the pirates and the animal guys and that cop Kagura hugged.”

Hikari doesn’t hug him, because Hikari doesn’t hug, just sort of sidles up and leans against his side. “It’s not the end of anything. We’re still the ToQgers.”

--

Violet

They do meet up, the next summer, the other four piling onto the train platform waiting for the Rainbow Line to pull up because it’s the easiest way for Hikari to get to them from Hokkaido. He does arrive, finally, and then it turns out that Akira’s with him, and for a few minutes nobody can hear anything because they’re all yelling too loudly.

Eventually it quiets down, and Conductor clears his throat and says, “I should let you know that this is the last time you’ll be seeing me in this capacity. Wagon’s going to be taking over as conductor of the train.”

They all stare at him, and then Hikari says, “Let me guess. You got promoted.”

Conductor blinks. Ticket says, “How’d you know?”

[kuriboo]

Yu-Gi-Oh! GX Month

Day 25: For the Glory of Academia! 

This is one of the two prompts for this month I felt a lot of inspiration for, given I did not have the time to work on all or even most of the prompts. At first, I wasn’t going to do this prompt either. As it turns out, I’ve written an au putting many  GX characters into Arc V already, years ago in a fic called Righteous Justice. I’d felt like I’d said all that needs to be said on it -- I ended it at a nice place, had no intentions to continue, and writing a very similar au just felt redundant, given I wouldn’t change much in Righteous Justice even now. 

Then I realized I had planned out a very unique role for Syrus in this au that I never touched on, because he never came up. I felt really inspired to write for that, to write out Syrus’ place in Righteous Justice and also focus on his relationship with Zane, given that Zane plays a large role in it. This is obviously very late given that GX Month ended in September; I finished writing this up at the beginning of October, but it took me to the end of October to type it up and edit it for posting. I enjoyed writing this a lot, so if you read, I hope you enjoy.

I’ll include links to both this fic and Righteous Justice on ao3 in the notes of this post.

⁂

Syrus glanced out the window. For the moment, everything looked peaceful. A few people were out and about, but as far as Syrus could tell, not a single person held a duel disk, or looked like they were disguising themselves. He couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief.

Long ago, it was Syrus’ dream to attend Duel Academy. He wanted to become a professional duelist, and he was sure he’d have the skills to succeed after graduating, but...

Then he talked to his older brother, Zane.

Zane was already attending Duel Academy, so Syrus was sure Zane would have good insight on what the school was like. When Syrus asked Zane about his plans, Zane said only one thing: Syrus was too weak, not nearly good enough of a duelist to get in. Zane seemed to have no faith in Syrus. So, what was the point, then?

Those words in mind, Syrus changed his plans. He enrolled at a different high school, aimless for now but deciding to find a different goal to strive for. He was upset Zane didn’t believe in him, but Zane’s opinion still was important to him. Plus, since Zane was already going to Duel Academy, he was probably right, so Syrus’ confidence in his dueling ability dropped like a Truckroid in the ocean.

That all felt like it happened a lifetime ago, but it really wasn’t. It had been over a year, but in the scheme of things a year wasn’t that long. Zane hadn’t graduated yet.

Syrus wasn't sure what was happening around him anymore; rumors were spreading about Duel Academy about some project or something going on, but Syrus didn't know anything about that. What he had noticed, however, were the Duel Academy students roaming the streets. They often went after people trying to hide their appearances, seemingly trying to hide from something, or maybe someone. Maybe it was Duel Academy. Duel Academy students were seen dueling in the city more and more, and it seemed like the there were more people hiding all the time, too. At school, Syrus heard rumors that these people hiding their appearances were former students or staff of Duel Academy. That they didn't just leave, they'd had to escape. That they had formed some sort of rebellious group forming against Duel Academy.

But, well, Syrus was having enough trouble keeping up in all his classes. He couldn't keep up with the constant new rumors, or try to look into anything himself.

For now, though it seemed like there weren't any Duel Academy students doing...whatever they did around the city. No duels happening around him. The peace was nice for the short time it would last, and would make it a lot easier to focus on schoolwork. He had some homework to catch up on. Also, Syrus knew he was a horrible duelist. Zane had practically said so himself. He did not want to get caught in any of those duels that happened outside; he knew he would lose, and he did not want to know what would happen if he lost. There were rumors spreading about that, too.

Syrus sat down and put some homework in front of him. As he struggled through difficult problems, he couldn't help but think of Zane. They hadn't seen each other since Syrus graduated from middle school. How was Zane doing? What was his school life like? Did he have any friends? Would Syrus get a chance to meet them? One of his greatest fears was that he'd never know any of the answers to those questions. Would he ever see Zane again? Was there a chance they could become closer like they used to be?

He'd grabbed a snack partway through his homework assignment, but quickly realized it was gone already. He went to throw the snack's wrapper away, but he saw the garbage can was full. Time to take out the trash, then. He went outside with the bag. Currently, Syrus was renting an apartment because his school didn't have dorms (this apartment didn't put him very far from Duel Academy), so the apartment's dumpster was a bit of a walk. Still, it didn't take him long to get there and back. As Syrus returned, he looked at his door.

The door was left open. He'd forgotten to close it and lock it.

Even though it hadn't been long, Syrus felt nervous. He ran to the door as quick as he could, wanting to make sure nothing was out of place. As he reached the apartment, he shut the door behind him. He turned towards the living room, figuring that was the most obvious place to see if anything was broken or stolen.

Immediately, he saw two other people in the same room as him. Syrus squeaked as they both noticed him.

“It’s okay.” One of them held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I know it probably looks like we’re trying to rob you or something, but I promise we aren’t. It’s okay.”

”Then...” Syrus glanced at the person who had spoken, trying to stop himself from shaking (unsuccessfully). “Then why are you... Why are you here?”

”It’s a long story, but I guess we’ve already brought you into it? Oh, where are my manners?” The person who had spoken before held out one of his hands to offer Syrus a handshake. “I should introduce myself. You can call me Bastion.”

Syrus declined the offer. “I’m Syrus.”

”Nice to meet you, Syrus.” Bastion dropped his hand, seeming unoffended that Syrus rejected the handshake. “I wish it was under different circumstances.”

You and me both, Syrus thought.

”I’ll keep it brief—“

”We’re putting our trust in him?” The other person asked. They were holding one of Syrus’ homework assignments. Syrus stared at them. Bastion whispered to them to put it down, to which they complied. “He could turn us in.” They looked at Syrus. “Uh, yo, my name is Jaden, by the way.” They didn’t offer a handshake.

Bastion sighed. “It doesn’t really matter what he does now, I guess. We’re already here. He deserves to at least know why.”

”Right, why you’re in my apartment.”

”Yes. The main thing you need to know is we, uh, used to be at Duel Academy. We didn’t want to be there anymore. Duel Academy wants us to go back, but we don’t really want to. They keep sending students to find us, and we were just running away from them. We saw your door was open, and, well, it’s easier to hide when you aren’t out on the streets? I promise we won’t be here long, we just need to—“

”He could still turn us in to Duel Academy,” Jaden pointed out. “I thought you didn’t want to go back?”

”And you do?” Syrus was so confused, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Didn’t Bastion just say they both didn’t want to go back?

”He’s still undecided,” Bastion told Syrus.

Jaden stared at Syrus. Syrus found it hard to maintain eye contact, even more than he usually did with most people. Jaden shrugged, then looked out the window. “Whatever he decides to do, we can deal with it. But it’s cool. I trust your judgement, Bastion.”

Syrus turned his attention back to Bastion. “I’m really out of the loop,” he admitted. “Is something happening with Duel Academy? Why are people trying to leave? Why are they trying to get those people back? Isn’t it just supposed to be a duel school?” Might as well try to get a firsthand account while he could. Ignorance really wasn’t bliss for him right now; he’d rather know what was going on himself, even if only so he could stay out of the situation as much as possible.

”It’s supposed to be a duel school. It used to be just that. It’s sort of expanded beyond that? I was never a student there, but they brought me in to work on a project I never wanted to be part of. So, to make a long story short, here I am.”

”I guess that makes sense.” Syrus nodded, then looked at Jaden. “What about...” His words died in his throat. Jaden was still undecided, right? But then, why did he leave in the first place, if he wasn’t sure?

Before Syrus could think how to phrase what he was trying to ask, Jaden cut him off. “They’re nearby.”

Duel Academy was nearby?! “What if they come in?” Syrus stared down at the floor. Was it suddenly hot in the apartment, or was that just him? “I’ve seen people dueling outside recently, are they from Duel Academy? Will I have to duel somebody? I-I can’t, I’m not any good, I...” Syrus couldn’t duel anyone, especially from Duel Academy. He wouldn’t stand a chance. He hadn’t dueled since...

Jaden looked at Syrus, eyes widened with surprise. “Are you sure that’s true? That doesn’t seem right. I get the same feeling from you I got from Bastion when we first met. You just probably haven’t dueled anyone recently.”

”I don’t...it has to be true...I’m not...”

”The same feeling from me?” Bastion stared at Jaden. “I thought you thought I was...” He shook his head. “Now isn’t the time.” He turned to Syrus. “We won’t ask you to do anything for us. If a duel is demanded, we’ll step in. If someone comes in and doesn’t try to duel you, we will get out of here a different way, so they can’t connect you to us and give you any trouble.”

”Okay...okay...”

Less then a minute later, there were footsteps outside Syrus’ door. He squeaked. Bastion nodded to Jaden, and the two of them quietly walked away to sneak out the back entrance. After the two of them were out of sight, the front door was forced open. Syrus ran towards the door and looked up to see...

”Zane?!”

Standing now in the doorway, Zane seemed talker now than he had the last time Syrus had seen him; Syrus wasn’t sure if it was that Zane was actually taller, or if it was just because he was so intimidated by Zane. Syrus knew Zane was with Duel Academy. He could never tell by uniform what school someone was from, yet Zane wasn’t dressed like anyone Syrus had seen around his apartment. Zane’s uniform was different from the last time Syrus had seen him in, too, even though Zane had been a student at Duel Academy then as well. Syrus wasn’t about to act like he knew anything about Duel Academy’s uniforms, though.

”I haven’t seen you since...” Syrus couldn’t even get a full sentence out, the words just kept getting trapped in his throat. He wasn’t even sure how he felt, seeing Zane again. Happy? Upset? Well, last time he’d seen Zane was when he told him... Right now, he knew he felt scared and inadequate for sure.

Zane glared down at Syrus. “You’re still pretty close to Duel Academy.” He looked around at what he could see of the apartment from the doorway. “Do you really think you can transfer in later or something? Do you really think you’re good enough to do that?”

Syrus tried not to squeak in response. "No, I...I know better than that. It's just... My school is nearby..." It was mostly coincidence. Syrus hadn't realized when he enrolled at his school how close it was. Once he found out, though... the feelings Syrus had about Zane were very mixed after Zane told Syrus that he would never have what it takes to succeed at Duel Academy. But even with that, Syrus found some comfort with not being too far away from Zane. No matter wat, if Syrus ever were really in trouble he was sure that Zane would still try to help him (...he hoped).

"Sy." Zane closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Even if you aren't enrolled at Duel Academy, you still do not get it." His hand fell back to his side as he glared down Syrus . "At least it finally sunk in that you'll always be too weak to get anywhere at the academy. But it's not just the school. You're too weak to be anywhere near the school. Maybe this time it will sink in. We're fighting a war, Syrus."

" War?! " Syrus took a step back, unable to look away from Zane. "What is that supposed to mean?" Honestly, he could not remember anyone mentioning a war. Not Bastion or Jaden, who supposedly left Duel Academy, and Zane sure hadn't before now. He couldn't have heard Zane correctly. Really, how could a school be involved in a--

"It means we are fighting a war, Syrus." Zane rolled his eyes and scowled. "Our world is sick. It's sick and broken, and only the best of the best can fix it. Some people don't want to do that, so right now a war is what it's taking to accomplish that. Anyone who is weak is in the way. Some people who went to Duel Academy don't believe in fixing our world either, so this is part of the war zone now. As long as you're here, you're a liability and in our way."

Syrus didn't really understand what Zane was talking about. The world is sick? Somehow a war was supposed to fix that? Was this what all the duel in the area were about? But Zane said he was in the way, he was weak, so...

"What do you want me to do? Transfer somewhere else, move away from here? I can't do that! I signed a lease!"

Syrus looked down at his hands. They weren't shaking, were they? Definitely not.

"Then get out of it."

Syrus sighed. "Well, if you came all the way here just to tell me to leave, then I guess I can give it a shot..." That probably wasn't the only reason Zane was here, but he couldn't tell him Jaden and Bastion has been here , right? He told them he wouldn't. Besides, saying something could lead to a duel, and Syrus refused to be anywhere near that. He refused to risk getting involved in one. Zane was the best, so why would he need help from Syrus, anyway?

Zane frowned. "I hadn't even known you were here." Right. Zane probably didn't care where Syrus was, as long as it wasn't around him. " I was sent to chase after some Duel Academy traitors. I thought I saw them enter this building, but there's no way a coward like you could hide them, so this was a waste of time."

Without even a goodbye, Zane turned around and walked away, leaving the apartment. Syrus was barely able to get himself to walk to the door and close it behind Zane, he was shaking so badly. Taking a deep breath, Syrus started to think over what Zane had said to him.

⁂

The back exit of the apartment was easy to find. Bastion had taken the lead in sneaking out by Jaden's request, and he trusted Jaden to watch his back. The two of them were ready to leave without a sound unless something bad happened, but when Bastion heard Syrus talking to whoever Duel Academy soldier was after them, any thoughts he had about leaving quickly vanished.

"Zane? I haven't seen you since..."

"You're pretty close to Duel Academy."

Zane Truesdale was the one chasing after them now? Maybe this situation wasn't as bad as Bastion had thought. They were completely out of sight from Zane or anyone who might be outside the front door, so Bastion turned to Jaden. "Hold on," he whispered. Jaden nodded, seemingly trusting Bastion's judgement.

Bastion leaned against the nearest wall and frowned. Syrus was talking to Zane. It sounded like they knew each other. Syrus had known nothing about Duel Academy's new mission but recognized Zane immediately. How was that possible? How could he know about Zane, but not about Duel Academy? One could hardly put one in a sentence without the other these days. In Duel Academy's hierarchy, Zane Truesdale was on par with Aster Phoenix; commanders of Duel Academy's army, well respected, extremely talented duelists. He was also known to be harsh and cold to those beneath them. From the sound of Zane's voice, Syrus couldn't be just be some friend Zane had outside the academy, because that was clearly how he felt about Syrus. Or, at least, that's what he wanted Syrus to think.

How Zane truly felt, Bastion had no idea.

See, Zane was actually a double agent. He'd been serving as one for quite a long time by working with the You Show Duel School, mostly by feeding them information from within Duel Academy's more respected circles. Zane truthfully did not believe in the academy's mission; according to Alexis, respect was one of Zane's most championed values, so how could he believe in the war effort when they showed it to no one? Yet, Zane still played his role at Duel Academy very well to stay out of suspicion. Bastion and Jaden would both be safe as long as Zane didn't see them. If Zane saw them, however, it would not matter that he was a double agent. He would show no mercy.

Which made it all the more confusing that Syrus knew Zane. Whose side was Syrus truly on? Had Syrus lied about being unaware of Duel Academy 's actions? Bastion did want to believe Syrus, but...

Soon, Zane started talking how Syrus was too weak to be a student at Duel Academy, and something clicked in Bastion's mind.

"Before I left Duel Academy, as we realized how much the school had already changed and how much it was still going to change, Zane and I were friends. We both have brothers, and he used to worry about his. He was younger than Zane, wanted to enroll in Duel Academy too when he was old enough, but Zane... As Duel Academy changed, with his brother was in the dark about it, Zane told me didn't want his brother to follow his footsteps there. He wanted his brother to be safe from the academy, he didn't want him to have to go through all this like we did. So don't let his attitude bother you so much. He has a heart, he has a lot of it, I've seen it for myself. He cares a lot about all of this. But he can't risk showing it. He acts like he does because, well, he has to."

Syrus had claimed to be a bad duelist. Zane seemed to think the same. But Bastion trusted Jaden's instincts about Syrus' dueling ability. Did Zane convince Syrus he was a horrible dueling to keep him safe? Was Zane acting like this to Syrus to protect him from experiencing the horrors of Duel Academy's new curriculum firsthand?

Bastion glanced out the back door windows. He wasn't sure how well Zane accomplished that.

Syrus was living within walking distance of the You Show Duel School.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Ten : The Sunbird Prince

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

Trigger warnings for death of a character, fire/house burning, intense fight scenes, graphic violence, and death threats.

Trick is excited to hear that Blue’s doctor says he’s ready to travel. It means they’ll finally be able to go back to Peru and find their missing brothers! Blue isn’t as excited at the thought of Anti getting his hands on the rest of his family again – but as it turns out, they may have bigger things to worry about.

The Sunbird Prince

“I thought you’d be happier.”

Blue shakes his head slowly, pressed against Trick’s chest as it is.

“Why not? Blue. You’re going to make it through this.”

Blue sighs and looks up at him, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, making Trick close his eyes.

“Yeah,” whispers Blue. “I guess we’ll figure it out.”

They’re on a dock on the river, a quiet part far from the bustle of the city, closer to the poorer part of town where they live. Still, there are trees in magenta and green and flowers to make the air sweet. Far off in the distance, there is the turning body of a ferris wheel and the loud beauty of modern architecture stretching for the sky, coated in silver and green. Trick’s feet are in the water off the dock, kicking gently as he lets Blue rest against him and shares a couple boxes of potstickers with him. For a moment, his addled mind remembers someone who looks just like him standing at the beach with his pants rolled up, walking around in the water, but he isn’t supposed to dwell on that for long, so he doesn’t. Blue is what matters right now anyway.

“It’s good news,” murmurs Trick, pressing their heads together. “I’m proud of you.”

Blue holds gently to his shirt and says nothing.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What's the good news, Blue?

Blue rubs his face. “The doctor said I could most likely be cleared for travel.”

She said it while Trick was in the room too. No lying to get out of this one.

“I’m really proud of you,” says Trick, rubbing his shoulder, trying to cheer him up. “I’m so glad you’re here, Blue.”

“Yeah, I am too, Trick. Wouldn’t leave you behind.”

Trick’s face brightens with a wide smile. His eyes are calm and happy. He wraps both arms around Blue and hums.

Anonymous asked: How's it going, Trick? Are you two doing alright?

“It’s going, it’s going. We’re doing good, right, Blue?”

“Medically,” mumbles Blue.

She said he could be cleared for travel. Preferably, he’d have another month of good rest, but Blue doesn’t expect to get it, or at least not in this country.

“Come on, finish up your potstickers,” Trick encourages him, patting his back and passing him a box. His little brother has not lost the slightly glazed look in his eyes in days. Blue doesn’t feel hungry.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Travel, huh? That's...good! Where would you go? Maybe staying put a little longer might be good for everyone?

“Anti said as soon as Blue’s well enough, we can finally go back to South America and find our other brothers.” Trick is practically glowing from the news, nodding up and down to himself, kicking his feet in the water. “We can find Dok again and make sure he’s okay. I haven’t seen him in… in… oh, how long have we - ?”

“A couple weeks, Trick,” murmurs Blue, frowning at him.

“A couple weeks.”

Anonymous asked: He’s going to move you soon then?

“I think he will as soon as he can.” Blue drags his hands down his face. “He gets more and more stressed every day, far as I can tell. He wants Dapper again more than anything else in the world. I think he’d shatter planets to have him back again.”

“I miss Dap,” says Trick cheerfully. “I want to bring everyone back here and get them all my favorite noodles. You think Anti will let us come back here once we’ve got them? I love this place.”

He takes his turn to put his head down against Blue’s chest, smiling warmly out at that rushing white river. Nothing bad has ever happened to him in this country, not since he got Blue out of the hospital, not that he’s aware of anymore.

hurricael asked: Blue, do you think you're ready to travel there?

Blue shakes his head slowly, but Trick doesn’t even seem to notice, maybe pressed too close to his chest, getting a little sleepy on a full stomach. Blue looks at him and his gaze softens, but sorrowfully, painfully, and he threads his fingers through that green grass hair.

“I still feel terrible all the time,” he sighs. “I don’t know how else to describe it. I’ve been told to accept that my eyes won’t work any better than this. They’ve diagnosed me with an immune disorder so I probably shouldn’t be on planes anyway right now. Fuck, and you know what, even if I did feel well, I just wish - I just wanted - I wish I could buy my brothers more time.”

Trick lets him ramble, accustomed to Blue’s slightly off-kilter concerns. As long as Anti isn’t bothered, he isn’t either, and he loves Blue enough to listen to him for hours no matter how much he confuses his brain.

“You’ve told me they’re okay. Maybe better than okay. They’re not with Anti. They’re having their own recovery time, and maybe they need it even more than I do. I mean, they’ve been with him for so, so long. They deserve a chance away.”

“You’re still mad at Anti for whatever happened the other night,” points out Trick, lightly scolding. “You two hold the worst grudges. But we still shouldn’t be late getting back to him, okay? Finish your lunch and let’s get going.”

Trick pushes the box to him again, demanding that he eat. Blue gazes at him. He’s been his caretaker all this time no matter how deep Anti’s wormed into his head.

Blue is tired of being sick, but he’s more tired of seeing his family hurt.

“Okay. We can go in a minute. But give me a minute longer, Trick. A minute longer.”

One more minute of just him and Trick. One more minute of feeling alright, here in the waters of a river that has never hurt him. One more minute of Red and Dok and Dapper safe on the other side of the world. Blue stares down at his white hands.

Anonymous asked: Whatcha thinkin’ Blue?

“Just… thinking about buying them some time,” mumbles Blue, staring down at his hands. Looking up, you can find the dark scar that Anti carved into his arm that night he stole his magic from him. “Ways to buy time. Slow recovery. I don’t know. Might be worth it.”

He glances over at Trick. “Got all my prescriptions, right, bud?”

Trick shakes a bag of medicine bottles. “You know it. Enough to last you a month.”

Blue smiles weakly.

spicydanhowell asked: trick, do you know that you're not you right now?

Trick gives you a slightly petulant frown, glancing between you and Blue, who raises his eyebrows as if to leave him to his own devices. Trick shrugs, throwing his hands up.

“I don’t even know what that means, cameras. Of course I’m me. Blue, this isn’t what you were going on about the other day, is it?”

“Try to listen to people other than Anti,” Blue urges him gently. Trick huffs and picks up their trash, tossing it away on the beach and coming back to hold Blue’s cane out to him.

Anonymous asked: Trick, what do you think of a future with just you and Blue and Red and Dapper and Dok? Just the five of you and Noodle?

“Hey, why just the five of us?” cries Trick. “What happened to Anti? Blue, let’s go home. I want to see him!”

“Anti’s fine, sweetie,” soothes Blue, getting shakily to his feet, his brother’s arm around his waist to settle him a moment later. “They’re probably just playing hypotheticals, okay?”

“Hypotheticals. Well, I think we’d be completely aimless and totally broken up, and we’d probably all get locked up or killed by magicians or cops or something because he wouldn’t be there to cover our tracks, that’s what I think about a future without Anti.’

Anonymous asked: You wouldn’t need to hide if Anti wasn’t there Trick. This might be useless to tell you, but the only reason you’re running is because of Anti. You’d be just fine by yourselves.

“Okay, newsflash, guys - Red alone is wanted for like, twelve counts of murder in about five different countries, and that’s just the murder, so I don’t think that’s going to just go away. Also, the reason we haven’t been harassed by fucking magicians in this country is because Anti handled them for us.”

Trick looks proud. He doesn’t know exactly what this means, but he knows Anti said he handled it, and that’s all that matters.

“Besides, my baby brother is a fucking time traveler. If people caught wind of that - fuck. We’re going to spend the whole rest of our lives in hiding so no one comes after him. Anti says people could catch him and sell him like a weapon. He’s so powerful. It’s not his fault, we just have to keep him safe. Staying hidden is important and it’s the only way to stay safe! Anti makes sure we can do that.”

Blue opens his mouth, thinking about saying something, but he’s been with Trick for a long time now and his energy is too low to fight.

“Here, give me your hand,” Trick urges gently, seeing the exhaustion in his face. “I’ll help you, come on. There’s the MRT. I’ll get you a seat in the back and we’ll rest.”

spicydanhowell asked: marv, don't let chase look but... you're not gonna make yourself sick are you?

“I don’t know,” admits Blue in a low croak. “I… I almost want to. Just to buy them some more time.”

He’s staring down at his hands again by the time they reach the subway, sitting side to side in the back. Luckily, it’s not too busy at this time of day. Lately, he struggles with hands touching him, but the only one close is Trick, and his palms are warm and familiar, set gently on his knee, a clear attempt to soothe and protect him. Blue appreciates it.

“It would be easy, you know? Horrible, the things I’ve considered. I’m already so sick that getting back in the hospital… I think I could do it. Then would Anti leave me behind? Or punish me terribly? Or go anyway and just let me suffer on the plane ride?”

He stares out at the city zipping by. Trick is right. It is lovely. Blue wishes it could be just the five of them, living in that little house, eating from the cheap stalker stands and exploring the whole island, recovering together.

“I’m scared,” he admits. “I don’t want to be worse than I already am again. I don’t want to be punished. But I also don’t want him to catch them. Or at least not yet. Not yet. Why can’t I ever save any of them from anything? I feel so passive. I’m always surrendering.”

Anonymous asked: Then don’t surrender this time. There has to be a better way to give them time without putting you in harms way. But at this point I think Anti is so desperate that a small scrape on the knee isn’t going to do anything. Do you have any other ideas?

“Killing him in his sleep,” mumbles Blue, eyes flashing. “But I’m not sure how to go about that. And Trick would hate me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, baby.”

“If you say so.”

Trick hasn’t questioned much lately.

bupine asked: blue, marvin, i am so sorry you have to go through this. the situation sucks so bad. if you have to get sick, then do it, k? be careful though. i can guarantee you that your brothers are ok. red and dapper especially. i won't say much more because last time i did i fucked up pretty bad but i swear they're alright and i know you're doing your best. good luck :D

“Haha, oh my goodness, I remember that, poor thing,” laughs Blue. “You were just trying to help, my friend. Oh, fuck. I’m glad they’re alright. If I could, I’d distract him from them forever.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, how do you feel?

“Good! Good. Really excited to see everyone again, glad Blue is better, Anti’s letting me sleep in his room again, everything’s great. I do want to make sure Blue is doing okay with mental health stuff, though.”

He squeezes his brother’s shoulder, drawing Blue out of his distraction and leaning down to help him up gently.

“Cause I love him!” he adds, grinning as Blue reaches his level, and this, at last, is enough to draw a real snort of laughter out of Blue. Something about the way he says it.

“Dumb-ass,” growls Blue without heat, smiling and shoving Trick’s shoulder. “I love you too.”

“Yay, there he is!” Trick wraps his arm around him and leads him off the subway, down the pavement that leads back to their little house.

Anonymous asked: Trick, do you even remember what you had yesterday for breakfast?

“Jokes on you. We had no breakfast!”

“I thought you finished off the last of the chicken?”

“Uh - that was early lunch!”

“Sure, sure. Such a dork.”

“No, you!”

“No, you.”

“You.”

“You, fucker.”

“Ass.”

“Airhead.”

“Idiot.”

This continues for much of the MRT ride.

Anonymous asked: Hey. Blue. If Anti can see these, then we shouldn't mention where your brothers are, right? That went badly last time?

“Yeah, it would be best to keep that quiet,” says Blue, knowing that he’ll probably be punished later just for telling you so. “I don’t know how much he knows about where they are right now - he’s been doing some fairly careful searching around and I don’t think he’s exactly clueless about what they’ve been up to - but yes, if you can keep it quiet, keep it quiet.”

Anonymous asked: So...we shouldn't tell you that they've moved locations— o o p s

“Lol,” says Trick out loud, voice dry, shooting you a look. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be clever or if you’re actually trying to help us find them, but it doesn’t matter. Anti will find them. The only reason he hasn’t been able to is because his usual ability to communicate with technology wherever he focuses his mind is limited by the new magic. Once he’s in South America, he should be able to get all the information he needs within a couple hours. From this location, he has access to most of the fucking Asian continent, so I don’t expect any problems finding them once we’re back to Peru. I’ll get to see my brothers again!”

Blue blinks at him, startled. Is this what he and Anti talk about? Does he know Anti’s power that well?

Trick sees him staring and winks, a shy smile playing across his mouth. “Just observant,” he says, leaning back in his seat.

spicydanhowell asked: trick, you're worried about blue's mental well being, but he's upset because he's so worried about you and everyone else. anti has made changes in your brain, made you forget people that you love, even a friend you knew just a few days ago. blue wants you to be happy for real, not this fake happiness that anti is feeding you. before this, you tried to kill yourself... do you even remember that?

Trick’s face whitens.

“My - look, I - there’s a reason I didn’t want to talk to you guys for so long!” he cries, drawing attention from the volume of his voice. Blue grabs his arm and hushes him quickly. “My attempt was - my attempt was - sometimes it doesn’t matter how much anybody loves you, you just feel like you can’t - don’t act like it’s Anti’s fault!”

Tears are stinging in his eyes and Blue clings to his shoulders, holding him close. “They’re just trying to check that you’re okay, Trick, sh, sh.”

“Anti is finally treating me like something worth his time and all of you act like it’s fake,” sobs Trick. “None of you think anybody could really love me. He loves me! If Anti changed my head, he was trying to stop what happened from happening again. I don’t want to be suicidal! I feel happy! Leave me alone!”

“Trick, Trick,” soothes Blue. “They’re on your side. We’re all on your side. We’re just worried.”

“When Dapper acts different because of his Haldol no one calls it fake,” says Trick, shaking his head. “Well, I’m messed up too. And Anti’s my Haldol.”

“Fuck’s sake,” groans Blue. “Don’t say that of all things, love, please, you’re killing me. That’s horrible on a hundred different levels. If you need antidepressants - ”

“I don’t want to talk about this!” snaps Trick, turning away from him, his arms across his chest and his face red with the effort of not crying. “Let’s just go home! This ride is taking for fucking ever!”

Blue covers his face with his hands and slumps over himself, pain groaning in his chest, in his heart, across the whole of his exhausted brother.

How does he get Trick away from this? How does he get him out of a mess this fucked up?

bupine asked: you should realize people can't be or act as drugs, trick. i don't want to upset you. but people do love you apart from anti. your brothers love you. there was once a woman and some children who loved you. you even had a youtube channel with an audience that loved you. no matter what anti thinks of you, his opinion is not the be-all-end-all of your life.

“I’m sorry for blowing up. I’m sorry, Blue, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, buddy, it’s okay, just - Trick, sh, sh, come here, you’re shaking. They’re right, there are so many people who love you just how you are.”

“I don’t want other people,” chokes Trick. “I want Anti. Why does everyone act like I can’t have my own brother’s attention for two weeks? What’s wrong with me?”

“It’s not about you, Trick, it’s about Anti.”

“Well, I like Anti even if no one else does. That’s what love is.”

“Not if he hurts you,” whispers Marvin, holding his face in his hands. “Not if he makes you feel like you’re nothing without him. Trick… can’t you tell that you’re acting just a little strangely? Memory loss? Random suddenly being upset? Not missing Dok hardly at all?”

Trick’s eyes flicker.

He pulls away from Blue and doesn’t answer, turned away, shaking his tired head.

“Soon I’ll see him again,” says Trick, very soft. “And Dok makes everything make sense.”

Anonymous asked: You think no one can love you because that’s what Anti made you believe. Did he tell you the reason all your brothers left is because they didn’t care enough? He’s wrong. He’s taken so many people away from you that if given the change could have loved you or did. That girl at the noodle shop?...look Trick, you might not trust us anymore, but you trust Blue don’t you? Do you even see how he feels? You might be able to hide behind the mask Anti made for you, but don’t you dare mask Blue’s hurt

“We’re going to get in trouble for talking about this,” whispers Trick, refusing to look back at you or Blue.

Blue sits looking at him. Nothing left to say.

Trick knows he’s hurting, he does. And he’d like it to stop, but it’s just - it’s not Anti’s fault! It can’t be! Because that would make Anti cruel and that isn’t what Trick knows him to be.

“I’ll turn you off,” he warns belatedly. “I will.”

Blue brushes at his eyes, silent beside him.

Anonymous asked: Trick there are a lot of people that love you. And even on medicine things aren’t always great, they don’t turn out the way they are supposed to. We’re sorry for being so upfront about this stuff, but we really are worried about you. We do care, we care so much for you guys and that won’t ever change no matter what happens. But please at least hear what we, or even Blue for that matter, have to say- sometimes hearing the hard stuff is important to moving forward.

“I do love you,” says Blue. “I am just worried. You never listen to me when I’m afraid for you. No one ever does.”

“Last time someone listened to you when you were afraid,” says Trick, and suddenly there is a bitter note to his voice you haven’t heard in a long time. “You burned half the mountain down and alerted a flock of magicians who stole my twin from me.”

“That,” croaks Blue, his heart pulsing achingly in his chest. “Was Anti’s fault. You don’t get to blame me for that. You don’t get to. I was the one who got hurt.”

“Not the only one,” mumbles back Trick.

“Maybe you should think less about your own pain,” Blue heaves, his eyes stinging, “and more about the reasons Anti is trying to turn you against me and everyone else in the world but him. Two days ago a girl kissed you and you don’t even remember, a girl who was your friend, who brought me poetry from the library and gave you food when you were hungry and afraid the first day you came here. She didn’t want to hurt you and Anti still decided he wouldn’t share you with her, so he took her away. Call that love if you want.”

Anonymous asked: You already know what’s the truth and what’s a lie. Turning us off won’t do anything. I’m sorry, Trick. I really, really am. We don’t want to see you hurt anymore, any of you.

“You do know the truth,” says Marvin, eyes downcast. “It’s killing me - it kills us -to see you buy into a lie because you don’t believe you could be happy without it. And Dok, Trick… Dok’s going to be so heart-broken to see you like this.”

“Don’t say that,” whispers Trick. “Don’t say that. You can question anybody else’s love but not Dok’s.”

“He’d be upset because he loves you,” says Blue. “The real you.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Guys, maybe set this aside for now... especially if you're going home. You don't want Anti catching wind of this, do you?

“That’s a good idea,” says Trick. “You can’t take another… um…”

“Beating?” suggests Blue bitterly.

Trick nods slowly, unable to meet his eyes.

“Yes. Punishment.”

“Fine.”

bupine asked: trick, dok's already realized what's true and what's a lie. we've seen him. i know he'd want the same for you, but i also know how hard that will be, and i'm sorry.

Trick shoots you a bizarre look, maybe alarmed, maybe just confused. Then he shakes it off.

“Nothing going to come between me and Dok! I’ll see him again soon and everything will be fine. And if he takes a little re-orientation, that’s the magicians’ faults for fucking with his head! I’ll look after him. I’ll…”

His eyes drift. He blinks at Blue, dazed.

“Trick?”

“We were talking about something important,” mumbles Trick, rubbing at his forehead.

“Just come here, buddy,” sighs Blue, pulling him under his arm.

bupine asked: we're sorry, trick. it hurts to see you like this. i'm just glad you're at least happy.

“Yeah… happy.”

Trick stares at the window across from him. Down at his hands. At you, at Blue.

“I’m happy?” he says.

Blue hugs him tighter.

“I love you,” he says.

“I’m happy,” repeats Trick, smiling now, certain, running his fingers through his brother’s beard. “I love you too.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marvin, can you help him remember Dok at all??? For longer than he does...?

“It makes him cry every time,” says Blue. “I mean, it kind of makes him have like… he freaks out. I could try, though, if you wanted. Just let us get home first. Come on, amata, here’s our stop.”

“Okay, Blue.”

Anonymous asked: I don’t think sending Trick into a panic attack about his twin is a good idea. He’s pretty freaked out as it is and we don’t want...a repeat. So instead just keep talking to him and be honest about how you feel.

Blue sighs through his nose. “I’m sorry, I’m… kind of tired of talking. You’re like a brick wall sometimes, Trickster, and we’ve been at it for days.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, I - just teasing a little. I mean… it’s just… it’s complicated, huh, bud? It’s not really your fault. Don’t be sorry. We’ll talk again when you’re not so worked up.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Blue, that side of the mountain that you burned? It’s grown back with all these plants and it’s absolutely beautiful now. It goes to show that it gets worse before it gets better y’know? Don’t give up just yet.

“Oh,” says Blue, stopping short on the pathway. Trick stops with him, looking back at him.

“Everything okay?” asks Trick.

Blue looks up at him. “What? Oh. Yes. Yes. That’s good news. That’s… really good to hear.”

At least he can know that the last thing he used his magic for was something beautiful.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: So what's the plan for now, Marvin? Keep Trick happy and safe? Maybe get him away from Anti? He can't track you guys, realistically...

Blue laughs wearily, rubbing at Trick’s back as they walk. With no other way to look after him, his protectiveness manifests in constant touching and a constant eye on him. Trick’s weary and he keeps leaning back in to Blue’s touch, looking up at him like he’s expecting him to catch him when he falls.

“I don’t know,” says Blue. “I think he could find a way to track just about anyone, no matter how off the grid you try to be.”

“He found you once,” pipes up Trick, swinging their hands as they walk. “When you were still the old master’s. We hunted you for months, Blue.”

“Right… well. I don’t know. Maybe it will be easier when I have the others here, to see what needs to be done. I really, really been missing Red.”

Trick squeezes his palm sympathetically. Blue glances up to see the house in front of them.

“At least someone got rid of that weird cloth,” says Blue. “It was freaking me out, lying across the hummingbird feeder. It looked like a person in the dark.”

“What cloth?”

“This big swath of colorful fabric just hanging over the bird feeder. Someone must have forgotten and then remembered it.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“I was surprised Anti didn’t do anything about it. He can be kind of territorial.”

“Maybe he didn’t see it either. He hasn’t been leaving the house. Should I tell him about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s gone now, isn’t it?”

Anonymous asked: Um wasn’t that cloth used as like a marking? Maybe to tell other people something, like a message? If it’s gone then whatever it was there for has probably been taken care of. Just be careful when you go inside alright?

Trick and Blue exchange glances.

“Hm. Okay,” says Blue.

“Blue, if someone found us and knew we were the sort of people to leave a marking for… that’s trouble.”

“Come on, Trick, Anti’s making you paranoid. Let’s go, love. Got the keys?”

Trick steps up to the porch and unlocks the door.

“Ow!” says Blue before he can get it open, nearly dropping you.

“What?”

“The camera, like, shocked me,” Blue hisses, shaking his hand out.

“What? Bad?”

“No, no, it just surprised me.”

“Maybe you should get Anti to take a look at it. If it’s breaking then - no!”

“Trick?”

He’s opened the door.

There is a tall figure standing in the back of the living space. On the floor, Anti is writhing, breathless and trembling, as electricity courses and crackles across his body, through his coding and his blood, making him jolt and jerk and vomit down his chin, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and small gasps falling from his mouth.

Blue whispers some curse or prayer behind him, but Trick does not understand it. His eyes are fixed on his master, in agony on the floor of their home, sick sliding onto the carpet as the man stands over him and watches.

The figure’s head turns at the sight of them.

His hands glow with green power. His eyes shine brighter than Trick’s hair. His mouth is curled into a snarl.

He wears the colorful fabric, the colorful cloak you’ve seen before, the colorful wings of the sunbird magicians of Singapore.

“Good,” he says, very clearly. “You’re home, lah. Come in.”

Anonymous asked: I’m not sure if you boys are aware but Anti went on a mad killing spree and killed a bunch of magicians when Blue first woke up and I think...I think that person is here to give Anti a piece of his own medicine. I don’t know if he see you boys as enemies tho so please please be careful.

“Well,” breathes Blue, the air knocked out of him completely. “That would explain it. Thank you, Anti, for your many well-thought-out and harmless plans.”

“I said,” enunciates the magician, turning his body to them, and for a moment Anti is able to groan and slump down against the floor. “Come in.”

Violent green electricity lights up beneath their feet and you hear them both scream, Trick crashing into the entryway while Blue tumbles back onto the porch. No matter how far he goes, though, the electricity is following him, back, back -

The magician has him by the collar. He drags him into the house and throws him on top of Blue, slamming the door shut behind them. Their electricity dies out and Blue, twitching, leaps to his feet and reaches back towards the door, just in time for the handle to begin cackling with power. Blue screams and draws his shocked hand away, tripping back down to Trick’s level. The walls burn with the magician’s power. He turns his attention back to Anti and he begins to jerk again, gasping on the pain, unable to bring his own power to bear. Electricity is painful for a human, but for something like Anti?

He cannot breathe or think or move except to shudder with the power and the pain. Agony courses through him. He wishes for Red. He cannot open his eyes.

“Murderers!” screams the sunbird. “Killers, bloodhounds!”

spicydanhowell asked: uhhh dope? this is dope right? marv, maybe hold onto trick so he doesn't... idk. this seems pretty dope

“This is not dope,” whispers Trick, shell-shocked for a second, staring at the figure leaning over Anti. “This - this is not…”

“Leave him alone!” screams Trick, leaping to his feet and throwing himself at the sunbird, ignoring Blue’s cry for him to stop. “Stop it, don’t touch him! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The magician grabs Trick by the throat and sends power coursing through him, lifting him onto his toes as he spasms.

“No!” howls Blue, racing forward to help him. “He’s innocent, stop, stop!”

bupine asked: wait, magicians, stop! the two brothers that just came in, they're not at fault! they're brainwashed, hypnotized by anti, the demon you caught first. leave them be, please calm down!

“Oh, you’re innocent, you don’t deserve to die, it’s not your fault, you’re innocent? So was my fucking family!”

He fires a bolt of pure heat at Blue, making him cry out and fall back, his shirt smoldering.

“I’m going to burn you all down to blackened bones for what you did! I don’t care which one of you it was! I don’t care! I don’t care!”

“Please, listen to me!” begs Blue. “We’re prisoners here!”

“Coward!” spits Trick, choking on the hand around his throat. “That’s our brother! If he came after you than you deserved it!”

The magician howls and throws him to the ground, bringing the heel of his boot down directly on Trick’s nose. Blue wails like he’s the one being beaten, staggering back to his feet again, his hands out-stretched.

Anonymous asked: Marvin show them your raven tattoo and explain that you both didn’t kill anyone!

“I’m a magician, I’m a magician,” babbles Blue, trying to reach Trick, ignoring Anti writhing on the floor nearby. “Or I was, he stole my power from me, he’s the one who beat these bruises into my face, he’s a hypnotist and a memory-thief, I’m a magician, look, look - ”

The lapwing tattoo gleams darkly on his skin as he pulls his shirt back. The sunbird’s eyes flicker, his teeth gritted hatefully, but over Blue’s begging he is pulling handcuffs out of his backpack. Blue sees in his cloak the outline of a gun.

Anonymous asked: Sunbird magician, do you know anything about stolen magic? Like if it can be returned to the person it was taken from, anything like that?

“How do you return a heart once it has been ripped out of the chest and stolen away?” spits the magician, turning his dark eyes to you for the first time. “How do you give a parent back to their child after they have come home to find their body eviscerated on the floor of their home? You do not. You just die.”

He grabs Blue by the throat and collars him in rope, tugging it tight and tying him to the fireplace as he gasps.

hurricael asked: Sunbird magician please don't kill them, it makes sense you want revenge and I'm not saying you can't have it, but please take it out on the demon who did it instead of other victims of him

“I’ll be sure to kill the demon, don’t you worry about that!” he snarls. “Whichever one of them it is does not matter to me. And you! I know what you are! This magician is an electronics manipulator. He sends messages through cameras, then. Shut the hell up. You killed my family, my father.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: WAIT! SUNBIRD DUDE, MAGICO! Those two had nothing to do with it! One was in the hospital!!

“We were in the hospital!” cries Blue, desperate now. “I was ill and he was with me! We had nothing to do with it!”

“You live with a monster,” growls the sunbird. “You should have killed it when you were given the chance. I watched you last night, little lapwing. Sleeping sound. You’re not a fighter. You’re not a prisoner. Don’t try to trick me.”

Sudden fury lights up in Blue’s blood. He grits his teeth hard, his eyes watering.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he hisses. “About the things I’ve had to do to survive. I’ve been fighting every day for months now. Sleeping is a victory. That I’m alive is a victory. Don’t you dare pretend I’m something evil just because I’ve survived evil things. At least I haven’t let them turn me into something as hateful and violent as you.”

Anonymous asked: No no no! He’s not lying! They are prisoners! The one who you just stomped on has been brainwashed the worst which is why he’s defending him! Please just hold on okay? Let’s talk this out for a minute alright?

“Don’t hurt him,” cries Blue. “You can hurt me but not him, he’s out of his mind on the monster’s control, he barely knows who he is anymore, he doesn’t know what’s happening…”

“Shut up!”

bupine asked: magicians! it wasn't them, we can vouch for them! we swear they didn't hurt your family, and i am so, so sorry for what anti did to them. we couldn't stop him. don't listen to what trickshot says, he's extremely out of it and it's not his fault. please hear them out!

“Anti,” breathes the magician, leaning over him to grab his wrists and handcuff him too. Anti manages to open his eyes, staring up at him with bloodshot blue and green, and the sunbird knows that this one is the killer by the antlers that are pressing out of its skull in defense, same as the antlers he found broken on the floor of his home. “Is that your name, you fucking parasite? Is that what they call you? Look at you now, little Anti writhing underneath my power. Little boy, aw. You’re a shape-shifter and this is the form you choose to take? A neon green twink with a monster-fucker complex? Do you think Satan will even let an animal like you into hell? I fucking hope so. I bet he’s got circles just for things like you, you pathetic excuse for a demon, for a faery, for whatever the fuck you are.”

Anti’s eyes burn with hatred while his body shakes.

“I,” he whispers, his voice glitching and rising and falling and spasming worse than you’ve ever heard it. “Am - nothing - except - for what he made me. Do you - do you - do you know what that means, little sunbird?”

“What does it mean, you writhing bitch?”

“Nothing you can do will kill me,” hisses Anti, and his eyes shine black. “You don’t even know what I am.”

The magician drops him, handcuffed to the other side of the fireplace, leaving him splayed out at Blue’s side, his eyes rolling back again as the electricity consumes him once more. He’s glitching so badly Blue can barely see his face, and he’s stuck staring in horror at the mess of coding and his own image that Anti has become.

“You can burn for eternity, then, for all I care. I’m not in a hurry.”

Anonymous asked: If you kill them, you are no different than the monster that took your family away. This might feel right now, feel good even, to find the one who took everything away from you to begin with, but in the end it will do nothing for you. You are a magician, aren’t you supposed to protect people? Isn’t that what the order is for? You are in control of the situation so will you just take a second to look around? To see how scared out of their minds they are? Is that what ur family would have wanted?

“Let me be a monster, then,” answers the sunbird, stepping on Anti’s wrist beneath the handcuff, wondering if he can shatter it. “Doesn’t matter what they would have wanted. They’re dead.”

Anonymous asked: Magician, please let the ones who just came here go. They've been hypnotized and brainwashed by the one with two magics, the one you had before those two came in, don't hurt them please.

“Please,” croaks Blue. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family. Trick and I weren’t involved. We didn’t know. Please. What’s your name?”

“My name,” he spits. “Same as my father’s. Did you know what it was before you killed him, Anti? Did you know my father’s name? The name of the sunbird king? Did you know anything? He was a musician. His power was beautiful music. If he wasn’t speaking, he was singing. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was dancing. My name is Caleb. I’m killing you for Caleb. You can die for Caleb.”

hurricael asked: He can manipulate electronics, yes, but right now he's on the floor writhing in pain, I would highly doubt that he's able to even THINK right now. These other two have been hurt by him so much and for so long, and they've been hypnotized and completely broken for a long time. It's a wonder that Blue, the one with white hair, even knows that the demon is bad through all those layers of mental reshaping. Plus they didn't even know, did you hear what Blue said when they came in? They didn't know.

“Maybe he gets power from you,” reasons Caleb, ignoring the message, and he shatters you against the ground. You have other cameras in the room, luckily, but it’s a dick move and you see Blue’s eyes grieve.

bupine asked: please don't break the cameras, you'll regret it later, please. we've been through this same thing before, and trust us, revenge never makes anything better. it doesn't. we are genuinely sorry about your family. but we swear on our lives that these other two men are innocent.

“Don’t you get it,” snarls Caleb. “I don’t care if they’re innocent. I don’t care if they’re brainwashed. I wouldn’t care if they’re prisoners! I’ve been watching.”

He kicks Anti in the skull, eyes wild when he groans. “He sleeps with the little one half the nights. His room is covered in pictures of them. He makes plans to kill women just for kissing them. Obsessive little bastard. Do you love them, Anti? Do you love them? Now you can lose your family like I lost mine.”

Anti’s eyes gleam, but not with anger now. You’ve seen this look in his eyes some rare times before - leading cops away from a house in Norway, trying to rise from bed on Christmas Eve while Red was nearly stolen away, tearing open Christofer’s throat to make him drop Trick.

His family. His family.

“I’ll burn them down to ashes,” hisses Caleb. Blood drizzles out of Anti’s mouth as he grows weaker and weaker, but his eyes are glittering like terrible stars.

Anonymous asked: Blue, blue, he’s hurt and that makes him dangerous. If you can’t reason with him than you and Trick need to find a way to GET OUT

Get out. Get out. Blue needs to find a way to get himself and Trick out. Anti can die but he won’t let his little brother. He won’t, he won’t. His eyes scan around the room, but nothing comes to help him. He grits his teeth and tries to bring his power to bear, but nothing answers. He chokes on a sob and yanks against the fireplace to bring Caleb’s attention back to him before he can handcuff Trick, still holding his bleeding nose and squirming with pain closer to the door. Get up and go, Trick! But his little brother doesn’t. Blue can see him staring at the two of them and knows that he won’t go without them both.

Desperate, he turns his head and finds Anti’s eyes looking back at him, blue as oceans and rivers. Blue hates him. Anti hates him too. But neither are willing to die like this. Neither are willing to watch Trick die.

Blue’s eyes move. Anti blinks and coughs. Blue takes in a deep breath.

There is a conversation happening between them.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick, stay quiet, hun. You need to survive this to see Dok!

Trick takes advantage of the sunbird’s distraction, crawling towards his door and shoving inside, throwing himself onto his things and searching desperately for Dok’s handgun.

“Hey!” hollers the magician, turning to administer a burst of shock throughout the floor of the room. Trick screams, but so does another little voice.

The sunbird stops immediately, startled by Noodle’s yowling, calling the electricity back to himself before he shocks the cat any further and unwittingly giving Trick time to search. Noodle throws himself at Trick, terrified, and Trick scoops him up in shaking arms before rising to his feet with Dok’s gun clutched in his trickshot hands.

bupine asked: caleb. he's going to kill you. get out of there while you can. please. we can't watch more magicians, more people, die at his hand. once again, i'm so fucking sorry for what happened. you're not the first person who's life has been ruined by anti.

Caleb had believed that he was willing to die before he came in here, that it would be a noble death, that he would go to it happily for the sake of his revenge.

But looking down the barrel of Trick’s gun makes it very real and very close.

You see him frozen, staring, stuck, the electricity binding Anti dying down.

Anonymous asked: Trick don’t shoot!

“Don’t - shoot?” spits Trick. “Don’t - shoot this - this - h-him? Don’t - d-d-d-don’t - don’t - ”

He’s outraged at you for the suggestion.

But you can hear from his stammer that he’s terrified too, tripping so hard over the consonants that his head dips with the effort to try and speak, the hard edge of the letter trembling from his mouth again and again and again, a flurry of uncertainty.

“Don’t - don’t - don’t - don’t - don’t sh - sh - sh - ”

“Trick!”  cries Blue. “They’re right! Don’t shoot! Caleb, let’s talk this through!”

Maybe he’d tell Trick to tie him down or knock him out if he could, but Caleb still has a gun of his own in his pocket, and Blue doesn’t know how long the protection from electricity that Noodle is currently offering will hold any sway over him. He can’t watch Trick get shot.

“Marvin,” he hears Anti whisper. “Marvin.”

Anonymous asked: Trick! Please listen to blue, don’t kill the magician try to distract him instead

Trick swallows, his eyes flickering to you. Noodle mewls in his arms, still shaking from the shock. He deserves to die for hurting Noodle, but he also doesn’t want him to have to see the blood. He could cover his little cat eyes -

Focus, Trick!

“Drop the gun!” shouts Trick, cocking his own. Caleb flinches but reaches for his gun. Trick feels a thrill of fear and Blue whimpers in the corner, his body consumed by trembling.

Caleb could put the gun down. Or he could shoot Trick. Or he could shoot Anti. Two acceptable options. One impossible. Blue can’t just watch it happen. He feels Anti’s energy, the mix of his own and Blue’s, burning beside him, and he knows that Anti is not willing to leave it to chance either.

But he doesn’t want - he doesn’t want -

Anti is looking at him. Blue shakes his head. No, no. Too much. Too terrifying. I do not belong to you.

Anti’s mouth curves into a hateful smiles, coated in blood.

Like you’ve ever had a fucking choice.

And Anti possesses Blue.

Anonymous asked: For these in need of mercy, For these who are in pain, Quiet your sparking fury, Sunbird. Deal justice to the one who harmed you. Be clement to those who have not. Your battle is won, your quarry caught. Step with intent, with caution, with care. Know your enemies. Know your allies. Know yourself, and what you can do, and what you will do. And Act.

Oh, it reads like poetry, it reads like poetry, and Anti’s consciousness is rushing into Blue, and power with it, power with it, power like a flood, like a blood pact, like a death and a life and a morbidity.

Anti breathes in deep, nearly choking, freed at last from the electricity, but this - oh, this is not the best of it, this is not the best of it.

This is the tangibility the magic has longed for.

This is everything the magic has longed for.

And Anti feels whole, feels complete, feels perfected in a way he has not felt - fuck, since he was a child, since he was a child waking up in the back of his creator’s head, when the body was shared, and Jack wasn’t scared of him, and everything was well.

And Anti feels powerful.

Better than the moment he stole Marvin’s power.

This is what he should have been doing all along. The perfect mix of magic and incarnation. The perfect mix of power and control. The perfect balance, the perfect stance.

The magic belongs to him and the magic longs for the body and the body is controlled by him and everything is well. He could never control powers within somebody else’s flesh before, but this - oh, this he stole, fair and square, on the banks of the Rio Puturnayo.

He closes his eyes and everything comes easy. He’s weak, yes, and so is Blue’s body, but the magic - the magic answers so swift and so painlessly.

Small green vines bloom proudly along their body, curling their way up to the handcuffs, wrapping warmly around them and squeezing til they shatter.

It reads like poetry. You meant it for Caleb. Anti can feel the way the rhythm moves his magic. Anti remembers the poem Blue whispered to him, hateful, as he came awake in that hospital bed all those weeks ago.

“I will show you fear,” they whisper, their body rising to its feet, shaking without the cane, blue magic wisping from their eyes and open palms. “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”

It reads like poetry. It moves like magic.

bupine asked: caleb! anti can possess people, he's taking over blue, the magician with the white hair! don't shoot him, please! shock him again, knock him unconscious, but do not kill him!

It takes about a half-second.

It takes about a half-second and Dapper isn’t there to slow it for you, and this is all you get to say. To warn him, like you warned him - Caleb, he will kill you.

Caleb realizes that his enemy is freed, grabs the gun, and turns to shoot him.

He never gets the hit off. A bullet is buried in his chest.

Trickshot - clean. Point-blank. Trick could shoot a quarter out of the air. Piercing Caleb’s heart is not a challenge.

Anti stands in Blue’s body, staring as Caleb collapses. Trick is behind him. You can hear him breathing.

Low and shaky.

Dok’s gun.

Don’t shoot, Blue told him.

You can hear him breathing.

Anonymous asked: Do anything you want to Anti, he deserves it. But please don't harm Blue or Trick, they're victims of him too. They've had people they love hurt by him, they've been hurt by him, they've been broken and manipulated and brainwashed and hypnotized and possessed by him and they didn't know he had even done anything until you came in. Please give them a chance to heal. And I think that taking them away from him would hurt him as much as killing them. More even, because he has no closure.

Trick sinks to his knees. Shaking too hard to hold Noodle. His cat hides in his lap.

Anti falls down to his knees too. Putting his mouth close to Caleb’s ear.

“Look how nicely they asked you,” he whispers, his voice layered and glitching. “How many messages did they send begging you not to hurt them, and you didn’t listen. They warned you. Look how nicely they begged you. Poor Caleb… they gave you a chance.”

Caleb spasms. His brown eyes are opened, his face against the floor. He stares up at Anti.

“If only he hadn’t given you a mortal wound,” whispers Anti. “We could have had so much fun together… maybe there’s still a little time…”

“No, Anti,” begs Trick, and then sobs are bursting from his throat, so stressed and broken they’re almost more like coughs. “No, he’s had enough. I didn’t mean to.”

Anonymous asked: Caleb Anti had electronic manipulation powers as well as fire and plants that he stole from Blue, and Blue casts through poetry so watch out for that

“Shall I show him?” coos Anti, flowers blooming around Caleb’s body, lovely at first and then thorned so thickly. Fire breathes into life in one palm. Anti leans down low, to touch his face -

Trick falls down beside him, wrapping his arms around Blue’s neck, and he begins to cry.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti. Back off. Let the guy die in peace. What's done is done.

“He should pay,” hisses Anti. “For hurting you - ”

“He has,” sobs Trick, holding him. “He did. I don’t want him to hurt. I just want you. And Blue. Please. I’m scared.”

Anti rises back onto his feet, bringing Trick with him. He takes his hand and pulls him into Trick’s bedroom, and all three of them collapse onto the bed.

Noodle leaps on top of them and curls his shaking body in between theirs.

Anonymous asked: Okay. This is a long shot. But Dapper. Dapper. Is it possible for you to rewind 40 minutes back? I don't completely know how your time powers work, but if it's possible can you try? And I'm sorry for scaring you, buddy, I know this is out of the blue.

Dapper’s in a car.

The sun is gold and the country is rushing past him. He’s in the backseat, buckled safely in, staring peacefully out at the world.

“I hate your fucking music, man.”

“You - hey!”

“Sorry, I do.”

“You’re a sour Juice Box today. Green apple. Okay, get my phone, pull up Dermot Kennedy, he’s the only artist we could ever agree on. For the record, your taste in music is shit too.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“No, I’m telling you.”

“Fuck you, Max.”

Laughter and jostling from the front seat. Max and Ro side by side, headed back to Peru.

Dapper takes you into his lap.

“It’s very difficult for me to time travel without my medication, and sometimes the side effects can be really nasty,” he says. “But I trust you. If you need me - if you really need me - to go back in time forty minutes, I can try. Make sure you’ve thought carefully through what could happen. Know what your outcome is and what it could be. In our lives, many options can be bad, but some are worse than others.”

“What are you talking about?” asks Red happily, leaning back to pat his knee.

“No worries, Ro,” says Dapper, trying to smile, though you see he looks weary and downcast. But he trusts you if you can come to a consensus. If you want to do this over again. If you think it could end another way.

bupine asked: caleb, we're sorry. we're so fucking sorry.

Blue’s flowers are around him.

He smells aster and begonia.

He dies.

bupine asked: dapper, anti's hurt someone. someone who didn't deserve it. we need to try and help them, if that's ok. it might not work, but i feel we have to try.

Dapper stares down at his hands. You see he’s holding a little picture.

Max gave it to him. Three siblings, dark-haired and dark-skinned, and him in the middle of all of them, their arms wrapped around him, and him smiling.

Or the him he used to be.

“Anti’s hurt a lot of people who didn’t deserve it,” he says softly, and he takes his clock out of his pocket and turns b

---------------

“You protected me,” whispers Anti, holding Trick to his chest.

His little brother is crying, crying. Anti doesn’t really understand why. He’s made him kill people before, and then all he had to do was send him to Dok and he’d be fine the next morning. Ah, he must be missing him.

“Poor thing.” Anti snuggles closer to him, rubbing his back, and reaches over him to find the music box Dok gave him beside the mattress. He winds it carefully and lets it go, and Trick is instantly quieted by the sound of the familiar music, and by Anti’s darkening eyes.

“There you go,” purrs Anti. “Stop crying.”

Trick cuts himself off with a sniffle, hiding in Anti’s chest. Anti allows it. For a moment, he is almost overwhelmed by his fondness for him.

It isn’t like with Dapper. Dapper was just… a pet. Cute and funny and entertaining and nice to hold. But Trick is… Trick is almost like Jack.

Trick is almost like a person to Anti, like… a friend, almost. He doesn’t find it entertaining, anymore, watching Trick cry, not like he thinks it’s funny when Dapper cries. Trick just needs him so much, so desperately. There was so much less force used. So much less training. And oh, oh, but he does look just like Jack…

“I suppose I could teach you that that was your name,” mumbles Anti, stroking his green hair, the thought flickering darkly across his mind. “Trickshot hardly means anything. I could make you believe your name was Jack is I wanted to.”

Trick blinks slowly up at him and nods, rubbing at exhausted, glazed over eyes.

“You did well,” whispers Anti.

“I did really well.” Trick burrows himself back in his chest again.

“You proved yourself to me, Trick. You made up for the girl in the shed. I know you didn’t kill her. You regretted that, didn’t you? You should have killed Genesis. She was the one who took your twin from you. Stole him away.”

“I should have killed her,” mumbles Trick, sounding angry at himself. “Should have protected Dok… done what you told me to do.”

“But you’ve made up for it now.” Anti entangles his fingers lovingly in his bright hair. “Forget Xin Yi, we won’t hunt her down. We don’t have time and you’ve made up for it. You’re ready mentally. Blue’s ready physically. And me, like this - I’m ready for anything.”

Trick nods again, pulled flush against his body, his blue eyes drifting wearily closed.

“Have a nap with your cat,” murmurs Anti. “An hour or two.”

“Will you stay with me, Anti?”

“Later we can rest together. For now - I have to find us a ride to Peru. We’ll be gone before midnight. Leave nothing behind. Sleep.”

Trick closes his eyes and obeys, Dok’s music box singing to him and Noodle on his chest, Anti’s fingers running through his hair.

Or he would -

But this is all undone.

---------------------------

As is usual when Dapper rewinds time, I reblogged an older post with an addition:

“At least someone got rid of that weird cloth,” says Blue. “It was freaking me out, lying across the hummingbird feeder. It looked like a person in the dark.”

“What cloth?”

“This big swath of colorful fabric just hanging over the bird feeder. Someone must have forgotten and then remembered it.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“I was surprised Anti didn’t do anything about it. He can be kind of territorial.”

“Maybe he didn’t see it either. He hasn’t been leaving the house. Should I tell him about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s gone now, isn’t it?”

Added:

Dapper opens his eyes, staring at you.

Anonymous asked: BLUE TRICK DO NOT GO INTO THE HOUSE

“Motherfuck.” Blue half-laughs, suddenly nervous. “Okay, geez.”

“You know something, Blue?”

“What?”

“I think they really don’t want us to go in the house.”

They look at each other laughing and confused, shaking their heads.

“Well,” says Trick. “Here I go - ”

“Trick, no!”

“Kidding! Hahaha, dumb-ass, that was a joke.”

“Oh, thank God,” says Blue, grabbing his hand nonetheless. “Idiot.”

bupine asked: trick. blue. don't go inside. there's a magician in there who wants to kill you. dapper turned back time because the magician died and he didn't deserve it. anti killed his family and he wants revenge. don't go inside, please trust us, please. we only get one chance to fix this.

The laughter falls out of their faces.

“There’s a magician in there?” says Trick. “What - with Anti?”

He stares at the door, his mouth drying. Blue squeezes his hand tighter.

“Bluel, we have to get in there and - ”

“No. No.”

“They could hurt him!”

“They could hurt you,” frets Blue. “Please.”

Trick looks over at him, seeing his brother standing on his cane, pale-faced and glassy-eyed, with exhaustion in every line of him, and he stays.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Whyyy don't you go for a walk around the block or something?

“Come on,” murmurs Trick, squeezing Blue’s hand in return. “I’ll take you to that park a couple blocks down and you can wait there for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere if you’re going to do something stupid,” answers Blue hotly.

bupine asked: anti, can you hear us? caleb? can anyone inside hear?

You can see inside the house from the cameras around the room, but they seem a little pre-occupied.

Caleb is stepping on Anti’s throat. Anti spasms with electricity just like he did last time, choking and thrashing, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut, feeling like his powers are cut-off from him by this horrible lightning, frying both his physical and intangible form.

Anonymous asked: Yeah haha funny but this is really serious, we had dapper reverse because if you guys go in there it will be a very bad time. You need to leave and go far away and you need to do it now.

“Blue, you should go.”

“I’m not going without you.”

“Don’t think I won’t carry you and steal your cane, asshole.”

Anonymous asked: Stay together and stay away from the house, guys, please

“If you guys really think I’m leaving Anti to be motherfucking tortured, you can think the fuck again!” shouts Trick, whirling on you with venom in his eyes. “Sorry I’m the only one around here that gives a fuck but that’s my brother!”

hurricael sked: Guys please. Last time someone died. Stay away from the house.

“No,” Trick is saying before he’s even finished the messages. “No, I won’t leave Anti to this alone. He doesn’t have Red, he doesn’t have Dap, he just has me. You’re insulting me! You’re insulting me, you think I’m a coward and that I’d leave somebody I love behind to maybe get hurt!”

Anonymous asked: Trick if you go into that house there is a possibility that you will kill someone. You will walk out with blood on your hands. Listen to us, for once, and leave with Blue.

“If all you guys have is stupid suggestions where I live Anti behind I don’t have to listen to you!” snarls Trick.

Anonymous asked: Whatever you do, don't separate. The sunbird magician know about you two, and if he gets bored with anti, he may come looking. We can't get him to listen to reason but we can't let it come down to a fight either.

“I’ll stay with you,” whispers Blue.

This, at least, makes Trick look conflicted. He can’t watch Blue get hurt. Not again.

bupine asked: trick, anti can't save you this time. please listen to us for fucking once. are you forgetting we know what happens?

“Are you forgetting that I know you guys don’t give a fuck what happens to Anti? That you keep trying to tear me away from him? For all I know, he could be dying right now, and you would tell me to leave him behind!”

bupine asked: caleb! we need to speak to you! can you listen to us for just a minute, please?

Caleb stares up at the little beeping of the camera. If he were still struggling with Anti, he wouldn’t bother, but he feels coolly in control now, Anti struggling on the floor beneath him. He steps a little closer to the camera, cocking his head.

spicydanhowell asked: trick, there is nothing you can do. what happened last time is you were beat up and knocked out and anti was still in trouble. anti can fight off a magician on his own, and if you go back in there and get hurt again, all that will happen is dap will have to exhaust himself turning back time again and he's not healthy right now. you need to take care of blue right now. don't give him anything else to worry about.

“Well, guess what? Getting knocked out protecting him is better than not going in there and getting punished for running away later. He can see these cameras, remember?”

“Trick, if he knows we thought he was able to handle himself - ”

“I don’t believe them well enough for that.”

Mod posted:

“Stop, stop, stop!” shouts Trick, waving his hands. “Stop saying the same thing, be quiet, let me think! Too many ‘Anti can handle himself’ messages and I’m not buying it!”

bupine asked: caleb, hi. we know your name, and we know what happened to your family. we're sorry. can you hear us out? the man you have on the floor there is a terrible man. he's abused people, tortured people. but i know you're here for something else. please, get out of here while you can. leave anti. you can't kill him anyway.

Caleb blinks.

He looks between Anti and the camera, mouth twisted with confusion.

“This is what of your tricks, meh.”

Anti grits his teeth, but cannot answer. Despite his statement, Caleb seems curious still, drifting a little closer to you.

“He is terrible,” he agrees, frowning. “You have that much right.”

Anonymous asked: Trick before you do anything THINK. We don't control you or your choices but make sure this is a choice you WANT first. Ambush if you must, It's not just about you killing someone who hurt anti, anti may hurt and possess blue in an attempt to fight back. Remember possession? Do you really want to wish that on blue, as injured as he is already?

“Blue - possessed?” whispers Trick, turning to his brother, and his own fear of possession transfers quite cleanly over to his friend, and Trick looks even more terrified than Blue does.

hurricael asked: Caleb, you have to be careful. He recovers quickly from the electricity, keep an eye on him while you're here.

Caleb scowls and turns back to Anti, upping the power. Anti gives a short shriek, his skull thudding against the floor.

bupine asked: this isn't a trick. we hate anti too - he's a vile being. but if you don't get out of here - you'll die. don't ask how we know. please, save yourself. this is the last chance we'll get to save you, and i believe you deserve a second chance.

Caleb sets his mouth.

“Some things are worth dying for. I decided that before I even came here. I will pour every ounce of suffering I can out on him before he sinks his fucking claws in like he did to my father.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What ARE you here for, Caleb?

Caleb lets out a short, bitter laugh.

“Hell… revenge, I suppose, but the word is so dramatic. What would anybody want if they came home for spring break to find their whole family murdered? I want him dead. I want his family dead. His little henchman, the sick one and the gunman. I’ll kill them for what they did to my family.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, if you do go in there be careful and maybe get Noodle out of the way first? Noodle got a bit hurt and a lot scared last time... Anti is being shocked within the inch of his life right now. Don't exactly know how he'll get away this time, though.

“Noodle,” chokes Trick, and such a silly word becomes desperation on his mouth. “Oh, no, my kitten.”

Anonymous asked: It wasn't Anti that died, you don't have to worry about that

“Anti’s not going to die?” squeaks Trick desperately, trying to cull his own rising panic.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: But the others had nothing to do with the murders. Please, keep them out of this!

“He deserves to lose his family the way I did,” spits Caleb.

hurricael asked: Caleb. I am in no way trying to doubt your dedication, but this isn't worth dying for. As far as we know, he can't die. But your electricity has been the best at subduing him of anything we've seen. You can help most by living, and preparing, in case he goes after people you care about again.

“Then I guess we need to try some different tactics,” snarls Caleb, and he steps into Anti’s room, and takes out a great silver knife, turning back towards Anti. Anti’s eyes flicker. As his own form of threat or intimidation, he lets his throat open and spill blood out. Caleb wavers, eyes huge.

Anonymous asked: Caleb, if you want to destroy his family, you'll have to hurt way more than the other two guys you saw at the hospital. Are you prepared to go to South America and hunt down their three brothers just so you can kill them in front of Anti too? Where does it end? I'd tell you revenge is empty but I know you couldn't care less.

“South America, huh? Where in South America? I’ve never been and I have nothing else to live for.” He smiles coldly at you.

Anonymous asked: I mean, Anti might need someone to distract Caleb if you really want him to get free but you'd have to be careful Trick. Maybe plan out how you're going to ambush the man. He's very much revenge-driven right now and I'm pretty sure that he'll keep Anti alive just to kill you and Blue in front of him. Maybe he'd start with Blue first since he's currently the sicker one so if you want to protect Blue you should probably take the initiative. But like a reasonable and planned initiative.

“Distract Caleb,” murmurs Trick, turning back to the house, thinking. “Okay. Okay. How do I get in there, then? The window in my room is always locked, but sometimes Anti leaves his open…”

Anonymous asked: If you barge in there, Anti will distracted and he will get hurt for certain!!!

Trick hears Anti’s cry of pain as the electricity increases and his heart begins pounding harder in his chest. “Sounds like he’s already getting hurt.”

Anonymous asked: Trickshot, last time, the magician nearly killed you. Anti and Blue both agreed that they could not let that happen, under any circumstances, and that's what led Anti to possess Blue. Anti will honestly be happier that you are not in danger. If you can try to help without putting yourself or Blue in harm's way, maybe try that, but just think it through. Trust us, you guys have the time.

“I already told you several times I’m not leaving Anti alone with this.”

Anonymous asked: Caleb, the demon deserves everything you can do to him, but he very, very careful about how you proceed. He can possess people, hypnotize people, stole nature magic told through poetry, and he has two puppets under his control that we're trying to manage and keep out of your way. Keep an eye on the door - lock it out if you can. If you have a way to kill Anti, do it fast. Otherwise, you need to leave and regroup before the puppets come to kill you.

This is good information for Caleb, actually, and when he looks at you his eyes are less accusatory than they were before. He looks around and decides to lock the front door.

Trick hears it click on the other side and jumps, alarmed.

Anonymous asked: caleb you dense motherfucker. you survive for what you can do in the future, don't give up because of what you've already lost. don't you want to warn other magicians so more massacres don't happen? don't you want to pass on the memory of the sunbirds so they won't have died in vain?

“I think if I have a chance to at least try to kill this thing, I should,” says Caleb quietly, approaching Anti with the knife. “It’s not just revenge. This is a dangerous magical creature. It’s a magician’s job to destroy such things when they become violent towards humans.”

He kneels down at Anti’s side, shoving him onto his back and holding the knife over him, examining the deep cut in his throat with the blade.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll try a couple exorcisms, salt, silver… I’ll think of more.”

Anonymous asked: And you'll have to be quiet while you're moving. Maybe shoot him in some non-lethal area? Just to disarm him and get him distracted.

“I can do that. I’m a good shot. But I’ll need my gun.”

bupine asked: caleb, anti's hurt many, many people. we've seen him take lives, seen their families crumble. we can never stop him. but we can try and talk to you. will you listen?

Caleb’s face crumples with grief.

Families destroyed and lives taken. For no reason. He still doesn’t know the reason. He still doesn’t have the first idea why. He just came home. He just wanted to come home to his dad.

“What can you say?” he spits, tears rising in his eyes. “What can anyone?”

hurricael asked: Trick, Anti can't die. We're trying to talk the magician into leaving, so no one dies and no one gets any more hurt. What would happen if you go in is bloodshed, best case scenario someone gets hurt, worse case you or Blue or both die. I know you're worried for Anti, but the best thing you can do for you and Blue is to wait.

“I’m not leaving Anti alone. I’ve seen him plenty hurt before even if he can’t die. I don’t know how many times I have to say that.”

spicydanhowell asked: caleb, the other two men are very sick because of anti, physically, mentally, and they're trapped with him. these men are absolutely harmless without anti around and they deserve to be free from him. please don't go after them, okay? it won't even hurt anti if you hurt them. he doesn't love them. he doesn't feel love.

Caleb sighs, long and shuddering. “Look, I guess this is the one who I was looking for - I can tell by these antlers - so if the other two really aren’t killers and are just prisoners, I won’t go after them if they don’t come.”

Anonymous asked: While the others are distracting the guy, Trick can you crawl towards your room or stuff without making any noise?

Trick hurries around the other side of the house, Blue following fretfully behind, but Anti’s window isn’t open like he had hoped. He growls with frustration, trying to look through the windows, but all he can see is a dark figure in a colorful cloak, his back turned to him.

Anonymous asked: Poor Anti, he was practically spitting out blood while he was being tortured by the revenge driven magician...

“He what?” screams Trick. He looks wildly around, ignoring Blue’s shouting, and sees that pole where the sunbird cloak had hung, the one meant, perhaps to be a bird feeder. He grabs it between his hands and yank, yank, yanks it out of the earth. Blue has had to sit down, looking overwhelmed by the stress and his own weakness - or worse, his own helplessness as all this happens.

Trick grunts and pulls the pole out of the earth, hefting it in his palms, feeling like Red with his fighting staff. He’ll smash in the window to his room, grab his gun, and kill him.

Anonymous asked: Uhhhh Anti? Trick's trying to get in... you might want to knock him out for a bit..

Anti stares up at you from the floor, and apparently his sheer outrage is enough to give him a little strength, because he manages to shriek, “What the FUCK am I supposed to do?” loud enough to make Caleb jump.

spicydanhowell asked: blue, we just got the word that you both will be completely spared if you stay clear. so.... do whatever you have to do to keep trick out of there. i know you're sick but... anything in your power

Blue’s mouth dries.

Unlike Trick, he believes you. He’s always been on your side. You’re wise to speak to him.

Anything he can to keep Trick out of there.

He staggers back to his feet and grabs Trick by the shoulders, pushing him back from the window before he can smash it in.

“You’ll - you’ll get glass on Noodle,” he manages.

It’s a weak excuse, but it makes Trick pause, and Blue continues rapidly, all but babbling, anything to keep Trick out of there.

“Listen, my love, do you remember the magicians in Peru?”

“I - yeah?”

“Who was the one who stopped them from stealing Red away?”

Trick blinks. “Dapper.”

“Okay, yes. And it sounds like Dapper already unwound today once, right? And he told them what to do to make the best possible outcome happen. Don’t trust them, Trick, trust Dap. This is like every other time we hear him faint and we know he’s told Anti what has to change to keep him safe. Dapper is keeping us all safe.”

“No, I can’t just leave Anti to suffer! I won’t!”

“Amata, it sounds like he’ll suffer less if you don’t go in there. Besides, I’m your big brother, and I’m ordering you.”

Something clears in Trick’s gaze. This has always been a saving grace for him, at least in regards to punishment. He’s never been punished for following an older brother’s order even if he knew it was against Anti’s orders, like when Red and Blue would give him permission to eat peanut butter and say Anti had allowed it even if, in the back of his head, he knew Anti had not. Blue is offering to cover for him. And Anti, in Trick’s mind, would never punish Blue severely enough to do any real damage.

He stares into the house, still beneath Blue’s hands, trying to think.

bupine asked: caleb. if we told you you could save the life of another person today, would you? an innocent woman who might die if you don't help? there's a woman named xin yi who works at a hawker near the hospital. you've seen her before - the one who kissed trick. anti is going to kill her. is there any chance you could help to protect her? please, one of anti's boys is going to be forced to murder her if you can't help.

Caleb blinks.

He doesn’t know the name, but he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt. The girl hadn’t looked like she was a part of any of this - she had been giggling about Minecraft and America, for fuck’s sake. And now she’s in trouble.

“I’m calling the cops,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I already had to tell them about my family. I’ll tell them the same person is after her. What’s her last name?”

Anonymous asked: Blue, i don't know if there's anything else we can say, the magician said he won't hurt you two of you stay out of it but I don't know if he'll hold true to that. Can you grab Trick? Anything? If he does make it in, will you follow? If he goes in alone, I don't think he'll make it out, so to speak. I'm sorry we can't redirect people who already have their minds made up no matter how much of the future we know.

“I don’t want Anti to get hurt,” says Trick, shaking his head, making up his mind. “For all we know, Dap expected me to help him. I’ll burst in, get my gun, and - ”

Blue’s cane connects with the back of his head and Trick crumples like a leaf in Autumn.

spicydanhowell asked: it's "koh"

Caleb calls the cops and warns them. They’ll look into it and set up an armed guard.

Anonymous asked: Caleb, keep an eye on Anti. He had partially recovered after this long, last time.

“Was he being repeatedly filled with as much electricity as I can muster, ‘last time?’” asks Caleb coolly. “I bet whoever shocked him last time didn’t have power like mine. But you’re right. Why don’t we try something new?”

He puts the blade down in Anti’s chest.

Anti screams, his entire body glitching horribly, but no matter how much of his own electricity he’s losing, Caleb is immune to it, watching the power surge up his hands with interest. He jolts away when Anti begins losing control of his form, though - Anti is a deer, a black dog, a rabbit, a cat, a songbird, a man again, all bleeding swiftly from the chest. He looks down at himself in a panic, grappling desperately at the wound as more blood than he’s ever seen himself simulate comes pouring out of his chest.

Except this blood isn’t simulated.

“Dok!” he hears himself sobbing. “Henrik!”

Maybe he can die after all, now that Blue’s magic is changing him.

Maybe he was bluffing.

bupine asked: we don't know her last name, and the cops can't help. do you know how many cops anti's killed? many. get out of there. save her, if you can, and it you can't, just get away. neither you nor her wanted to be involved in this. once again, i'm sorry about your family. so, so sorry. i don't know anything about them, but i think they'd like to know that you saved a life in their honour. or saved yourself, at the very least.

bupine added: oh I didn’t know we knew her last name

“If I kill him, she won’t be in danger anymore,” says Caleb, stepping away from Anti as he writhes. He’s startled by a soft mewl beside him and turns his head to see a little golden cat staring up at him.

“Sorry, kitty,” says Caleb, leaning down to scratch him. “Did I wake you up from a nap?”

Anonymous asked: Well that’s one way to do that blue

“I guess so,” says Blue, his eyes very wide.

Then he begins to giggle weakly, tears springing to his eyes, and he has to sit down again to steady himself.

Anonymous asked: Trick oh my god please calm down. You're stressing Anti out since SOMEONE told him about you trying to break in. You'll get hurt then Anti'll get even more stressed and you'll get stressed and everyone will get stressed. Calm down please

“Guess he’s calm now,” says Blue, drawing him into his lap, looking apologetically down at his still face. He strokes Trick’s hair, and then he begins to cry.

He won’t even have his little brother’s comfort soon enough. Trick will hate him for this.

Anonymous asked: Blue, whatever you're going to do you should probably do now. I don't quite remember, but I think I read that being knocked out like that doesn't last long?

“Well, what do you want me to do?” chokes Blue, brushing his tears away. “It’ll last a while! I’ll find his pressure point and knock him out again if I have to, I don’t know what the fuck is happening anymore.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, please don't kill him. Anti went after those magicians first. Please don't help the circle of revenge continue. This one had his family killed; you're ready to kill for Anti, just like the magician was ready to fight for his family. Shoot him, or hurt him, if you have to, but we're trying to avoid more death (no one has died while we're talking to you, don't worry).

“You should be careful,” sniffles Blue, putting his head down against his little brother’s. “I don’t know what’s happening, but it doesn’t really matter. Anti’s powerful. I doubt he needs Trick’s help to kill that guy. And fuck but he’s creative in his violence. He’ll find a way.”

Anonymous asked: Caleb, I know this sounds wild and random, but don't let the cat get too close to Anti. He's possessed animals before, and he might be desperate enough now to try again to get away. Its name is Noodle. Can you try to nudge it to another room? Don't hurt it please.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Caleb scoops Noodle up and lets him carefully out of the house, opening the front door again.

Anonymous asked: CALEB FORTIFY THE WINDOWS

Caleb glances at you quizzically, but checks that all the windows are locked.

Anti isn’t doing well, slumped across the floor, bleeding heavy from the chest. He stares up at Caleb with hateful eyes, and then he closes them, and focuses.

Anonymous asked: Caleb, I think we should maybe explain ourselves as far as our messages. These people Anti has with him are not his real family, he stole them away and has been brainwashing and hurting then for months. We, the cameras, are a way for him to taunt us by showing off that he's won and all we can do is watch. If you need to hurt anti, by all means: give us a show, but please spare our boys. We can only help so much and they need so much more help than we can give.

“This is all messed up,” mumbles Caleb, staring up at you. “What the fuck. Okay, well… fine, okay, fine. I won’t hurt the others.”

Anonymous asked: your ͞f͢aţh̸er͟ ͝di҉èd̷ like ́a̛ do͘g

Caleb’s eyes widen.

He stares up at you for a second and then whirls around, panting, to look at Anti.

Anti stares back at him, teeth gritted hatefully. His mouth glitches.

Anonymous asked: c̶òwa̶rd͘ bo̡ý. ͘s̨n̵u͡c̸k up ̶on me. d̶o̕ ̷yo͟u fe͘el like a ͞m͝an? y̴ou d͞id̛n't beat m̷e.̸ ͢y̛o͢u̶ sh͡o͡ck͜ed m͢e̛.̢ your ̢fa͏the̷r w̨o͟ul̢d b́e a҉s̛ha̧med

“Shut up,” whispers Caleb. “Shut up. You deserve this.”

Anti manages to laugh, rolling onto his back, his face very white, though his eyes, hateful and burning, never leaves Caleb.

Caleb looks right into them, trying to communicate his hatred. Black eyes. Deep black eyes.

bupine asked: caleb, he's sending you messages through the cameras. don't listen. do not listen. if you have any fucking sense, if you care for yourself at all, get the hell out of there. you're giving him what he wants.

Anti grits his teeth tight, and then, on your screens:

T̶hes̵e ar̴e my ̕cam̧e͠r̛as͠. You won’t ̧beat m̕e͢ wit͢h҉ them.

And your messages fizzle away.

bupine asked: blue, get away from the house. as far as trick will go. just do it, please. i don't know what's happening inside.

“I’m sorry,” says Blue, very weary. “I can barely carry myself, let alone him.”

Anonymous asked: Caleb, watch Anti, I think he's doing something! It might be a good idea to shock him again

Whether or not he gets your message, Caleb’s hatred is focused directly on Anti now. He stares down at him, getting closer, closer, looking right into his powerful eyes, and all Anti has to do - all Anti has to do -

He lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before.

A whimper, maybe.

He doesn’t have the strength to possess Caleb.

“Look at you,” hisses Caleb, getting down and straddling his waist, shoving him to the ground, putting the blade back on his already weeping throat. “Trying to taunt me with your last pathetic words. You little monster. How does it feel to know that everyone you’ve ever met will be better off without you around?”

Anti stares up at him with mismatched eyes, lying there in the living den where he has sat so many times with Trick, listening to him talk, watching him play his games. Green hair, blue eyes. A smile on his face. A familiarity between them.

No. He’s not leaving Trick behind. He wants to go back to Trick.

He thinks maybe he’s finally found someone who really makes him happy.

“You’re a leech,” growls Caleb, even as his tears fall down on Anti’s face. “You’re a leech on the world, on these prisoners you keep, on everyone around you. No one will miss you. I hope your sleep is restless and your nightmares terrible. There is nothing you can do now. Nothing you can offer. My father is dead and you cannot bring him back.”

Shape-shift. Flickering between forms. This Anti can do. If he tries. If he concentrates. If he musters the last of his strength.

If he searches the electronics around the house… a control panel… never used… if he turns something on…

One last plan.

Caleb raises his hand. Electricity cackles and snaps between his fingers, green as emerald, ready to kill him.

Anti shape-shifts into the Sunbird King - Caleb Senior, his father, the man you saw just once, dancing around his room in his feathered robes, singing.

Caleb hesitates, a gasp on his mouth.

Anti throws him off him, into the fireplace, where the gas is turned on.

Anonymous asked: oh... blue, i'm so sorry you had to do that. rest in the knowledge that you did good, okay? you did your best to protect your brother. it's an awful, terrible, fucked up situation, but trick won't shoot someone or get shot, and anti will be weak. hang in there. you did your best, and trick will be safer for it

“I did what I had to,” mumbles Blue, stroking his little brother’s hair. “I’ve always done what I had to. I kept him safe.”

Anonymous asked: Blue I know this'll sound,,, absolutely nuts, but. Lie down and pretend you were knocked out too? Anti might win this round. He really, really might. And you're already so weak and tired, it's just- preserve what you can. If Trick and Anti think the both of you were ambushed, or maybe the magician cast on both of you to keep you out of the way, you both might get in less trouble?

Blue looks confused, but he trusts you. He lies down there in the dirt and grass, and holds Trick to his chest, quiet.

Anonymous asked: I don't know what to do either. There's a magician in there; he won't hurt you if you don't hurt him, I think. Maybe you can ask him to help get the two of you out of there? You don't have to, though, but maybe he'll help.

Blue nods slowly. He won’t hurt them if they don’t hurt him. Maybe he’ll even help them… yeah. That would be really nice. They could go away somewhere… hide together…

Blue stiffens, blinking.

Why does he smell smoke?

hurricael asked: CALEB SHOCK HIM NOW. I'm sorry. I know he looks like your father. But Anti killed him, and now he's taunting you, manipulating your decisions by wearing his face. You have to shock him now.

This is a good idea.

But Caleb is on fucking fire.

He screams aloud as his hand sparks with the gas and an explosion of flame surrounds him. His sunbird cloak is instantly on fire - and so is the wall and floor of the house. Anti chokes and drags himself away, managing to make it to the kitchen before collapsing again. Caleb writhes as the flame spreads, burns spreading up his body. You can hear him screaming wildly, trying to run while the fire spreads across him.

Anonymous asked: I think Anti just killed the magician. Play unconscious.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Blue is gasping, curling tighter around Trick, fear making him stiff. He didn’t want the magician to die. He didn’t want one more person to die at Anti’s hands. This is horrible. Tears fill his eyes.

Anonymous asked: Blue you could to wake up Trick so you can run

“I - I - ”

Blue stares at the house as the fire spreads.

“Is the magician still inside?”

Trick is out cold in his arms.

“And - oh, fuck, Noodle.”

Anonymous asked: Noodle has been evicted from the premises just around front! He's okay!

Blue makes it to his feet and hurries to the front of the house, but he doesn’t see Noodle.

hurricael asked: Blue Noodle's outside out front

“Are you guys sure?” asks Blue, looking around. “We have another problem if he ran off. He - oh, my fucking - ”

In through the window of the front door, he can see a little golden cat, stretched out on its side, bleeding from the heart.

“No!” screams Blue, and he does not hesitate, he does not pause - he races back around the side of the house, picks up the pole that Trick yanked out of the ground, and shatters the window to their room in one blow.

Glass cuts into him as he drags himself, panting hard, into the room, but even as dizziness reaches his head he’s moving into the kitchen. Blue scoops up the little golden cat in his arms, holding its panting body to his chest.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, it’s okay,” sobs Blue, stroking his head. “I’ll get you out, I’ll get you out. I’m so sorry, baby, I’ll get you back to Trick.”

He looks around the house as it begins to burn, panting hard, and though he does not see Anti, there, there, struggling in the living room, is the magician, aflame.

Anonymous asked: Caleb get out, get out now

He struggles to his feet, trying to throw his father’s cloak off, sobbing as the fire burns at his skin. He can’t get it off. He can’t get up. He’s going to die.

Then Blue is there, tearing at his clothes, helping him, and Caleb weeps as the cloak leaves his skin, as he is shoved to the earth, as white hands suffocate fiercely the fire that has reached his shirt, as he is pulled up onto someone’s shoulder and dragged to his feet -

“Come on!” cries Blue, tugging him along. “We have to get out!”

Caleb chokes up smoke and staggers on his feet, managing to step forward, and then the two of them are racing towards the door, their hands scrabbling together at the lock, and they tumble out onto the porch together, heaving for air.

The neighbors have come out of the house across the way and already Blue can see one with his phone to his ear. But it doesn’t much matter, he supposes. The house is already doomed.

But the magician is alive, choking and coughing and burned beside him, staring up at him with shocked, exhausted, grateful eyes. Their arms are locked together. Blue feels Caleb’s hands trace the Lapwing tattoo.

Anonymous asked: Blue the magician put noodle outside!

 “Wait - what?” mumbles Blue, exhausted. “I’ve got him, it’s okay…”

Noodle’s green and blue eyes stare at you.

hurricael asked: THAT IS NOT NOODLE. THAT IS ANTI. ANTI WAS STABBED IN THE CHEST ABD NOODLE WAS ALREADY OUSTIDE. Several other people added similar messages.

Terror fills up Blue’s face. He drops the cat and staggers away, but too late - Anti is already shifting back into himself, his eyes gleaming, blood weeping out of his mouth, and he does not have the strength to be alone, he does not have the vitality -

He throws himself at Blue and both collapse as one, crashing down the porch.

Anonymous asked: Caleb. Anti possessed Blue, and in that form he can use fire and plant magic. You need to run, now. With or without Trick, the unconscious one, but you need to go RIGHT NOW. Another anon added a similar message.

Caleb is heaving on the earth beneath the porch. Burns coat his chest and arms. His breaths come in struggling gasps.

The neighbors from across the street rush over to help him and distantly you hear sirens, but he can’t run, not now.

Anonymous asked: Oh no... please tell me noodle is okay

Anti staggers to Blue’s feet.

Oh, weakness. His own essence is tattered horribly, pain echoing through the whole of his form, and Blue’s body is weak, smoke in the lungs, exhaustion in the muscles.

But he’s here. He’s alive.

And there is a… completion to it.

He feels whole for the first time in a long time.

Trick - he needs to get to his Trick.

Anti staggers around the house. Trick is laid out in the dirt, unconscious, but alive. A golden cat is darting out of the trees towards him. Anti falls to his knees next to them, heaving, as Noodle mewls and begins licking Trick’s face, settling down on his chest. He’s fine. Trick and Noodle both. Anti grips his brother’s hand and breathes.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Oooh gosh...wake trick up! Maybe Noodle will respond to his voice if you guys look and call for him!

“Trick,” mumbles Anti, shaking him gently. “Trick.”

He stirs with a groan, his eyes still shut.

Anti leans down and summons his power.

“Trick,” he whispers. “Obey me, wake up.”

Trick shocks awake, gasping, and grabs Anti’s shirt in alarm, staring up at him for a second. And then -

“Asshole!” he screams, swinging for Blue’s face.

Anti intercepts him, shoving his fist down. “Trick, it’s me, Anti,” he snaps. “See?”

He lets his right eye change to green. Trick looks up at him, shell-shocked.

“Anti… you’re okay. I tried to - ”

“I know you did,” whispers Anti, putting their foreheads together. “No matter what anyone else told you. You did well. Trick… I’m glad you’re alive.”

Trick throws his arms around him, hugging him to his chest. Anti allows it, feeling his hands shake as they embrace him.

“Don’t be scared, Anti,” says Trick, very soft. “I got you.”

“I love you,” mumbles Anti, knocking their heads together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Come on. We have to go.”

“What? Where?”

“I’ll hack tickets for us at the airport. I think we better get out of this country.”

“Wasn’t there someone you wanted to kill?”

“Too much hassle now. Besides, I know you’re mine.”

Trick smiles at him, the light coming back to his eyes.

“We’re going to go find Dok, huh?” he asks.

“Yes,” promises Anti, helping him to his feet. “Let’s go get the rest of our brothers back.”

“I should get my stuff. I just need - ”

The realization hits Trick too late. His head whips over to stare at the house as it burns.

All his things going up in flames. His clothes, his Switch, Noodle’s toys. More importantly, Dok’s things, Dok’s gifts to him - his music box. His - oh, no. He’s wearing his polar bear sweatshirt, at least, and his crinkle paper is in his pocket. But that’s it. He stares up at Anti in terror, but his brother just stares softly back at him, his eyes apologizing.

“All our stuff,” manages Trick weakly.

“I’ll get you new things,” answers Anti softly, wiping water from his little brother’s face and taking Blue’s cane in his hand. “It’ll be okay. Come on. We have to go.”

They get to their feet and hurry away together, ignoring the worried calls of the neighbors afterwards. They need to be gone before the firemen come.

Anti casts one look back at Caleb.

The Sunbird Prince stares at him. Eyes like dying stars.

Anti shakes his head and takes Trick’s hand, moving down the pavement beside him.

It’s time to put things back in order.

Anonymous asked: Don't forget Noodle! He's just vibing around, somewhere.

“I’ve got him!” promises Trick, hefting him in his arms. Noodle just looks relieved to be with him again. “I don’t think he liked the great outdoors. He’s never been outside since I got him! We’ll take him on the plane, right, Anti?”

“Yes, amata, I’ll get him a carrier.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Since when do you call him Amata, Anti? Isn't that Blue's thing?

Anti smiles coldly at you.

“I like it. Is that so wrong? Sorry, does Blue have a monopoly on ‘sweetheart’ and ‘love,’ too? I think it’s funny. Blue can hear me.”

He smiles over at Trick, picking out snacks in an airport store.

“But I’ll have to turn you off before we go through security. See you soon, amatae. On the other side of the world.”

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Well thanks anyway dap

“Dap! What were you thinking!”

Max has pulled the car over. Red is in the back with Dap and the door open, holding his little brother’s head to his shoulder. Dapper blinks wearily around the car, blood dripping into the tissue Red holds to his nose, but he still manages to glance over and give you a woozy smile and a thumbs up.

“Did something happen?” asks Red, fretting over him. “Do I need to change something? Are we safe?”

“Don’t know,” says Dapper, frowning. “Really, really disoriented…”

Red sighs and gets into the car beside him, buckling up and shutting the door. “We better just get you to a hotel for the night,” he murmurs. “You don’t mind driving still, Max?”

“Like I’m going to let your lead-foot up here,” teases Max gently, though he’s looking worried for Dapper.

Red shoves his shoulder in revenge and pulls Dapper close to his chest. “Everything’s okay, bud. I’m going to look after you.”

“Thank you, Anti,” mumbles Dap, putting his head down on his shoulders.

End Section Ten of Chapter Three: The Sunbird Prince

[archived-lara]

I saw a post that made me think about Daisy and Jon so I wrote something heavily inspired by it. Longer than I guessed it would be.(it’s like 1.7k words) (link for ao3 ) spoilers up to MAG 165 

Jon and Martin found her just as Basira did. She almost wished they were a bit late. It wasn’t really fair to Basira maybe, but god she just wanted it to end. Daisy was waiting for her. She knew Basira would keep her promise and death would be better than being lost in the Hunt. The forever chasing, the aimless wondering, the prey that run, but not fast enough. Never fast enough.  

She tried finding monsters. Monsters like her. Cause they were faster and stronger than other prey, took longer to hunt and she just needed to bid her time till Basira found her. She hated causing harm she hated hunting what once was people till there was nothing but fear left in the poor husks of... Well she never got to finish that thought before really, no need to start now. Monsters were... Better? Was it because she didn’t want to hurt what might’ve been innocent people, or was it just her old habit snapping back into place? So long they fooled themselves in the archives, it’s gone away yay(!) But as much as it loves the chase the Hunt won't let its prey to run forever, and its hunters don’t get to hide either. There is a game to be played, and no one cares what the pieces might want.

So the only thing Daisy had to look forward to in between one prey and the next was the relief she would get when her partner killed the big bad wolf, with the scent of blood she never got to outrun and the maddening thump-thump-thump of the adrenalin filled heart. A beat so loud it almost covers up the screams of her prey. All she wanted was the quiet. With a bullet to the head or the heart, or maybe both, she hoped to find rest.

But of course, Jon wouldn’t let it. Perfect timing really. Right as she was preparing to be the prey, Jonathan Sims had to walk in there with a wild new haircut and horrible clothes that doesn’t make the slightest sense and damn it all to hell, was he seriously wearing her cardigan? He called out to Basira first. Asked her to give him a minute, pleaded a little when she wanted to refuse, her head no doubt swaying with the power around them, the same power that ran through Daisy’s veins. In there you had to pick, are you the hunter or are you the prey, will you run or will you chase? Jon broke through it and made her stop.

Against Martin’s better judgement it seemed, although he didn’t seem to protest much, goodness did they have a death wish or were they trying to test the limits of the new world?  

No! Daisy wanted to yell, Please just don’t make me live with your blood on me too. But the Hunt didn’t call to her. As he took a step closer she wanted to run. She felt like prey.  

It didn’t make sense to her mind that all her instincts yelled at her Danger, Run, Danger when all her eyes saw was this small man who managed to look like he hasn’t slept in years even in a world no one needed sleep, all skin and bones. And he managed to talk her down. Calm her ever louder heart with just his words and the damned sense of security he brought her, the quiet she longed for. She felt her claws retracting, the thrill of the chase loosening its grip on her. Till she couldn’t stand anymore. She realized she was gonna fall down and for the first time in months she could let it. And when she did let go instead of the hard ground she fell into the skinny arms of her friend. How he managed to hold her up was a mystery to her, but she didn’t bother thinking much as she let herself be embraced, be held up and finally feel how tired she really was. Jon shrugged off the cardigan awkwardly as he held her and wrapped it around her shoulders.

...

Now they walked. Slowly towards the center of all these horrors, to the place that had been both a safe haven and hell for all of them, to do something about this apocalypse world, Daisy once more under the calm gaze of the Eye, walking away from the Hunt. Tuning out its calls. Basira was silent beside her, and Daisy knew it must be just as weird to her walking like this when just mere hours ago she was going to kill her. Jon and Martin walked in front of them, trying to start some idle conversation to drown out the screams around them.

Daisy noticed the more they walked the quieter Jon got. He seemed like he was going to be sick any minute. She reached for his arm, only for Basira to grab it in the air, eyes wide, on high alert. Both Martin and Jon froze not knowing what to do.

“Relax, I was just gonna ask him if he was ok,” whispered Daisy. Her throat ached every time she did more than humming, words felt foreign on her tongue after months of not talking. Then, pushing past the pain of her partner fearing her, she turned her eyes to Jon and raised an eyebrow at him.

Martin's eyes somehow got wider and turned to Jon in an apologetic way “Oh I am such an idiot, I completely forgot. Do you need to...”

“I think I need to, yeah sorry I just thought it wasn’t the time to... bring it up? Why don’t you guys go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment.” Jon looked ashamed for some reason. Daisy wondered what this was about.

“Are you the only person who needs to go to the bathroom in this hell world?” she couldn’t follow their conversation and decided the air could do with a bit of lightening. And it worked, Martin looked like he was gonna laugh.

“Wha- oh god no! Nothing like that, well somethi- yeah no not like that at all. I just. I need to vent for a bit. Like how I needed to read the statements. You don’t need to hear it. Martin usually takes a walk, so just go ahead?” Jon was so flustered, Daisy almost felt bad about the joke but when he looked up to her and Basira there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. They were slightly glowing like there was a green fire behind his irises.

Basira just exhaled slowly and walked ahead, Martin followed her but Daisy stayed.

“Aren’t you gonna go with them?” Jon asked after a beat.

“Would you mind if I stayed? I don’t think Basira likes having me around just yet. And I’d prefer to sit and wait now that I can. Besides it must feel better not being all alone while, what did you call it? Venting?”

“I don’t have a word for it actually. It’s like the world is full of statements that demand to be read and it just spills out of me. I wouldn’t mind it but you might. It isn’t pretty Daisy.”

“Huh, interesting. You know I don’t mind listening to you record, hey how long have you been holding that tape recorder?”

“Oh? Since Martin and Basira walked away? Sorry I didn’t even notice. It will hit closer than it did back then Daisy, we’re in the Hunt’s territory now. You... You don’t need to hear that, or see me like that.”

“Jon, if we are talking about not needing to see the avatar sides of each other, I’m still half covered in dried blood you know, so we kinda already crossed that line, don’t you think? I know you can’t help thinking it’s a bad thing, but for what might be the first time in my life I have some hope that we don’t have to do this forever. Do what you need to do. You wouldn’t ask someone to not look while you were drinking water back when we needed to now, would you?”

“I... thanks I guess and. Daisy for what it’s worth I’m sorry. For everything. Don't give me that look, I know we talked about this. I’m not saying you’re completely innocent. Doesn't change the fact that it sucks and I would prefer you didn’t have to go through it.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry about you too. Oh and thanks for the cardigan too.”

“You do know it’s yours, right? It was too big for me anyways. I just grabbed it on our way out of the cabin. I think I was hoping I’d get the chance to return it to its owner.”

“Didn’t you have a statement to spill out of you?”

“Wow rude much. I’m getting to it, calm down.”

So they sat on the ground full of dead grass and Daisy let his friends voice wash over her. Her brain not fixating on any one word and following the flow of his voice, looking into his bright green eyes, watching the tension drain out of his shoulders. With the comforting weight of her favorite cardigan and holding the hand of her friend who saved her more than twice now she just managed to find some sort of calm. The world was quiet apart from Jon’s shooting voice and even the horrific things he was saying couldn’t take the peace away from her. So Daisy let him fill the quiet. When Jon finished his recording, they got up. Jon looked worried but Daisy just smiled at him and they started walking again.

“Thanks,”

“Jonathan I don’t care if your eyes glow now, if you thank me one more time, I will break an arm or two.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. You’re so skinny it would be like snapping a twig”

“No, not that. I mean maybe that, we’ll come back to it in a moment but my eyes are what now?!”

Daisy just laughed.

“I’ll stop saying thanks if you do too... C’mon they’re this way.”

---

“Did you guys know Jon finds merry-go-rounds thrilling?”

“MARTIN!!!”

“You what!?”

“Oh no no no I must know more! Tell me everything!”