#but thank fuck its remaining more... Smooth than canon if that makes sense. it has less facets

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, I think I missed a bit of lore or something, what’s the pit? And what’s the goop™️?

oh yeah no i haven't really talked about those Important Things yet! mostly because i'm still solidifying how they work in my mind... i try my best to adhere to canon, since to me aus are an exploration of the source / characters, so... its still tenuous. i have to think and consider and run parallel - there's a balance i'm still trying to find

like The Pit™️ (the spiral/eye void under Home) in Lights Out is gonna be different from the canon one since i started thinking about the au before the update. and the update changed my perception / theories on what the void is! but the au Pit™️ needs to remain mostly the way it originally was, or a lot of "plot" points fall apart

#and then the Goop™️ is like... the fuckin... black sludge stuff... #yk? the stuff? the stuff that makes humans sick? #its that but slightly to the left #the more i think about canon the more i realize that the au needs to diverge slightly more than i'd like lol #but thank fuck its remaining more... Smooth than canon if that makes sense. it has less facets #its more Straightforward. less wonderfully complex. shrimplicity over delicious intricacies #but im getting wildly off point! this is not what you asked! sorry! #but anyway to put it simply for the au: #the pit under home is filled with the black stuff. its the source #and the black stuff / goop is uh. well its everywhere and its Important and wally can manipulate it to a limited extent #also it chokes frank to death sorry xoxo #ok its a lil more complicated than that but yk yk #rambles from the bog #wh lights out au #but yeah the update came out and i went #Oh! I Got It Wrong! Neat! #i am honestly happy about it #i like being wrong in certain situations. this is one of them. #but for ease of the au and to keep it at a respectful distance from canon without straying too far #ill keep my Original Thoughts / Theory as au-canon!

[dr3amofagame]

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting 

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

[mrs-gucci]

Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka​ for being the resident Studio 54 expert!  Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)​

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club. 

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges. 

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight. 

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there. 

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin.  “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair. 

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly. 

It doesn’t work. 

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on. 

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname. 

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high. 

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from. 

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his. 

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two. 

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position. 

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

#mrs-gucci #mrs-gucci requests #mrs-gucci writes maurizio gucci #house of gucci #house of gucci film #house of gucci (2021) #house of gucci fanfiction #gucci fanfic #maurizio gucci #adcu #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #adcu writer #adcu author #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio x you #maurizio smut #tw: infidelity #tw public sex #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fanfic #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver fandom

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette and the Lost Temple CH7

Part two of my thank you for 3.5k followers! So, with the recent airing of Feast, a lot of things in this fic have been disproven, but when have I ever cared about canon? I’m sticking to what I’ve had planned all along, cause fuck ya chicken strips. This chapter was inspired by this image from the Collector.

Read on AO3

Chapter 7

“Why the long face?”

Fu blinked out of his trance, flicking his gaze up to Elder Wei and plastering on a smile.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” he said, but Elder Wei knew him better, so he slouched. “My partner had to stay behind, and I kind of wanted to talk to her about something. The elders don’t really trust her, and I’m beginning to wonder if I should either.”

“For what it’s worth, the elders don’t trust you very much either,” Wei shot him a teasing smirk.

“You trust me,” Fu said, glancing back up at him as they descended the mountain.

“I am patient with you,” he corrected pointedly.

“I don’t see how that’s much different,” Fu shot back, and Wei smiled before fixing his gaze ahead.

“You can do great things if you just put your mind to them,” he said. “You have so much to learn.”

“Elder Wei, we’ve reached the edge of the barrier,” Ming announced, and Wei straightened his shoulders.

“Press on. Careful not to get disoriented,” he instructed as the scenery began to shift until they exited the path onto the main road where other people headed for town with various goods to trade and sell.

Fu smiled as he glanced around at all the buildings and people passing as they walked. They only had two hours to free time in town before they were to meet back at the entrance. Wei had the Moth brooch with him, and a Miraculous was the only way to open the barrier to get back, so Fu really didn’t want to get left behind. It was shame Marinette couldn’t come.

His expression fell as he watched his classmates visiting shops together, and a pit formed in his stomach.

Marinette…

There was so much he didn’t know about her, and everything with the elders… He shook his head to clear it. There was no sense in worrying about that now. Maybe he could find her a souvenir and ask her about it when they got back. After all, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Sometimes he wished he didn’t stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

***

Marinette sat in the garden, legs crossed as she attempted to meditate. Attempted being the key word, and after several unsuccessful minutes, she leaned forward with a sigh.

“The key to successful meditation is to separate the mind from the soul,” Master Feng said as he approached, and Marinette glared over her shoulder at him.

“Are you here to formally kick me out?” She asked sourly as he sat beside her.

“Not yet, no.” He smirked, but Marinette was anything but amused. “I get the feeling that you know more than you let on.”

At that she averted her gaze.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest.

“I believe you have told us everything you wanted us to know,” he said, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “You know something you’re not sharing because you want to protect the person involved, and I believe I know who it is.”

“I thought I was making it all up,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what would it matter if none of it is true?”

“A fair point. We have no way of knowing if you are telling the truth, only time will tell for sure, but just know that I will personally be keeping an eye on Fu when he returns,” he said, casting her a knowing look before she stood up and stalked off to her room.

***

Fu smiled down at the small charm in his hand hoping that Marinette would like it. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d broach the subject with her later, but he hoped that this would soften things a little. It’s not like there was an easy way to tell your partner you’d overheard her discussing the destruction of the Order and that she knew this because she was from the future, a future where he was the last remaining member of the Order of the Guardians. Something had always been off about her, but Fu had always assured that everyone from France was strange. It’s not like he’d ever been there.

He closed his fist around the charm with a sigh, shaking his head. She couldn’t be telling the truth. Him? The last guardian? As if. But even still, he didn’t want to believe Marinette was bad. Something in his gut trusted her.

“Fu!” He jumped at Ming’s voice. “We have to leave now!”

“What? Why?” A loud crash sounded from the docks across town, and several people ran up the street screaming.

“There’s a monster attacking, so Elder Wei has ordered all of us to return to the temple,” she explained before darting off with Fu hot on her heels.

They raced past townspeople fleeing their homes, and Fu surveyed their horrified expressions with a frown. There had to be something they could do.

A little girl screamed as her mother dragged her up the street, pawing after the doll dropped several paces back, and Fu hesitated a moment, glancing between her and the path back to the gate. His heart hammered in his chest, and before he could think better of it, his feet were pounding back down the road.

“Fu!” Ming called as he charged toward the monster’s path.

He eyed the giant creature crushing buildings in its wake as he stooped to retrieve the doll, narrowly dodging a tentacle as it slammed against the ground to his right. The small girl hugged her doll tightly when he ran it back to her, and he pushed the mother and the child on before retreating after Ming.

Elder Wei waited outside the entrance, ushering in other apprentices as they approached, and his face softened with relief when he spotted Fu.

“Hurry back through the gate,” he ordered, but Fu stood still, a tortured frown on his lips as he turned back to survey the destruction.

“Elder Wei, we can’t just runaway, can we? People are getting hurt, and the town will be destroyed,” he pleaded. “Isn’t it the job of Miraculous holders to help with disasters like this?”

“You kids are hardly ready to take on such a task. It is best to get you to safety and let nature take its course,” Wei said, and upon seeing Fu’s disappointment added, “There is nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”

“But you have a Miraculous! Make me your champion, and we can fight it together,” he said, eyes baring into Wei’s desperately.

“No, Fu! Now hurry up and get inside,” he ordered with a finality that made Fu’s eyes sting.

“You said that I could do great things if I just put my mind to them,” Fu shot back, and Wei eyed the brooch in his hands with a contemplative frown before offering it to Fu.

“Young apprentice, this is the Miraculous of the Moth which grants the power of transformation. Use it for the greater good,” he said, and Fu eyed it in his hands for a moment before reaching out to take it.

“Nooroo, transform me!”

“Elder Wei!” Ling ran up as Fu’s transformation finished. “I made sure everyone was alerted- you gave him the Miraculous?”

“There is no time to argue, Ling. Fu, transform Ling into your champion. The two of you must work together if you hope to defeat this monster,” Wei instructed, and the two boys eyed each other in disgust for a moment before Fu reluctantly held out a hand to one of his butterflies.

“I’m only doing this to save the town,” he said as Ling offered up his bracelet.

“Just give me something cool,” Ling rolled his eyes as the butterfly disappeared and purple light washed over him. “Seriously, Fu?”

“I’ve given you the powers of the horse Miraculous. We need to get that monster out of town,” Fu explained as Ling examined his costume. “There’s no time to argue.”

“Ugh, fine,” Ling groaned before they dashed into action.

“We need to lure it into a portal and dump it somewhere away from everyone like the ocean or something,” Fu said, and Ling pursed his lips.

“Alright, but let’s hurry,” he said.

“What? No smart comment or clever insult?” Fu quirked a brow.

“We don’t have time for that, Mr. Butterfly!” Ling flicked his nose, and Fu smiled.

“That’s more like it.” He nodded before drawing his sword and charging in.

Fu lured its attention back toward the river, dodging tentacles and slicing through debris that were hurled his way. All of those times he’d struggled in class, every defeat to his classmates, they made him feel like he wasn’t cut out for this, but in this moment, Fu had one goal: to save the town. Suddenly he understood what all of this meant. What being a guardian meant.

It wasn’t about cool superpowers or ancient magic. It wasn’t about being the best. It was about protecting people who needed it and making a stand when no one else will. He finally understood what it was like to wield a Miraculous.

“Now, Ling!” He called as they approached the docks, and Ling activated his power, summoning a portal large enough to encompass the creature.

Together Fu and Ling drove it back until it fell through the portal to the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. They threw their heads back with triumphant whoops as the portal closed, sealing away their threat for good, and Ling turned to Fu with a bow. Fu felt a sense of pride welling in his chest as he too pressed his fist to his palm and returned the gesture.

“Boys, we must hurry and return now,” Elder Wei called as soldiers road in, and Fu and Ling let their transformations drop before following after Wei. “Quickly, Fu, open the gate.”

Fu fumbled with the Moth, holding it up and opening the barrier for Wei and Ling as the shouts of military soldiers called after them. He glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes as they readied their guns before slipping through the barrier and racing up the path after Wei and Ling. As soon as he crossed the archway, he collapsed into Wei’s arms, panting heavily.

“You two boys did well,” Wei said, smoothing his hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Fu pulled back with a smile, reaching into his pocket for the Moth brooch but finding it missing. He patted his robes, searching each pocket but coming up empty handed and feeling his blood run cold.

“No…” His eyes widened with realization.

One the other side of the barrier, the army general stooped to retrieve the small brooch from the ground, wincing against the purple light as a small creature manifest before him. Several men raised their guns, but the moment Nooroo appeared, a sly grin curled on the general’s lips.

“Men, it appears that we are about to gain advantage over our enemies. A miraculous advantage.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #marinette dupain-cheng #marinette march #marinette love #master fu #my writing #next chapter is the sad chapter #just a warning

[iamonlypartlymajestic]

What's the Opposite of a Gazelle? (Middleditch & Schwartz “Dream Job”fanfic)

*Co-written with @awildtrashcan*

AO3 LINK      CHAPTER 1

Chapter 2 - Is It Called An Ellezag? 

“Aaah!” Kyle backs up from the urinal and almost slips backwards on the grossly slippery restroom tiles. He manages to hold onto its porcelain sides, but it doesn’t very well keep the other men next to him from staring at him strangely.

Where the fuck is he? He was literally just talking to Mr. Times. How did he get here?

“Ow, ow, ow.” He presses the top of his hand against his forehead. Now is not the time for a migraine. He manages to shake it off, but now he’s stuck in a random restroom.

Someone clears their throat. “Hey...dude, y’alright?”

Kyle turns to his left to see a burly bald-headed man, still peeing by the sound of it.

“Yeah...I’m fine, just fine. I’ll just...uh…” Kyle steps away from the urinal and begins to head to the sink, still disoriented.

Another man a few urinals to his right who was giving him a concerned glance turns his head slightly to the side. "Uh…hey, buddy, aren't you forgetting something?"

“What?” Kyle looks at the man uncomprehendingly and then at himself. “Oh! Oh, yeah. Right, thanks.” He puts away his dick and pulls up his pants.

He rushes to the sink to wash his hands, but then catches his reflection in the mirror.

"Oh no."

Instead of his best friend, he's met with the image of himself.

He just stares at his reflection as he washes his hands. He wasn’t able to really look at himself when he was talking to Sawson earlier. Too focused on being an accomplice to burglary.

He dries his hands and touches his scruffy face. Before the switch, it usually took him a long time to grow facial hair, so he never really tried. He preferred a smooth face anyway, a habit he continued on Sawson’s face, so he isn’t used to the rough itchy texture of a barely-there beard.

Whatever. He’s getting off-topic. There are more important things to worry about, like how he was just unceremoniously transported to a men's restroom. In the middle of taking a piss.

He leaves the restroom and discovers he’s in the Italian restaurant. Of course. He searches for Sawson’s seat, dodging wayward servers and trying not to knock his elbows with the diners’ heads.

He finally locates his tote bag and sits down, overwhelmed by the sudden ordeal of being magically switched back to his original body.

His butt suddenly vibrates and the chorus of Daft Punk’s Get Lucky softly plays.

Kyle pulls out what was Sawson’s phone, mentally thanks the other man for not inputting password protection, and looks at the caller ID.

Shit. It’s Timothy III.

He flails around in panic for a bit. The ringtone continues to play, garnering glares from the nearby tables. Finally, he groans and quickly swipes the phone.

“Congratulations on completing the mission, Kyle.” Timothy III says in a muffled voice. “Unfortunately, you don’t have time to celebrate with tasty meatballs just yet.”

“How do you know I’m going to eat meatballs?”

Timothy III laughs ominously. “I’m always watching, my dear Kyle.”

Kyle looks around the restaurant and then out the open window he is seated next to. He finds Timothy III’s white Ford Fiesta parked along the sidewalk directly across the street from the restaurant, and the aforementioned man is staring at him behind the driver’s window with his hand over his mouth.

Kyle meekly waves, because how else do you react to your boss blatantly stalking you? He hangs up the call and quickly picks up his tote bag and Sawson’s things.

Shit, the flash drive! He pats his other pockets, and sighs in relief at feeling the small but powerful piece of plastic and metal.

He practically runs out of the restaurant and barely avoids getting run over as he makes it to the Ford Fiesta. Kyle gives Timothy III a quick greeting and stuffs himself onto the passenger’s seat.

Timothy III presses the ignition of the car and Kyle buckles his seat. Kyle opens his mouth to remind Timothy III to put on his seatbelt too, but then closes it, remembering their last car ride together.

“Do you have the footage?” Timothy III turns his head towards Kyle, pointedly not paying attention to the road—

“Hey!” Kyle hurriedly takes out the flash drive from his pocket and uses his other hand to push Timothy’s face forward again. “Yeah, yeah! It’s right here.”

His not-so-former-anymore-boss gives him a sidelong glance and smirks, “Perfect...hahahhaHAAHAHAHAHA!”

Kyle looks on, terrified at the other man hunched over the steering wheel—still looking at the road, thankfully—giggling to himself.

"At last," Timothy III savors the moment, clenching a fist in triumph, "I have the key to Times's downfall. Soon, I will have him on his knees, and he will recognize who is greater."

Kyle leans away as the other man's grin grows manic. "Soooooo...what exactly is this 'key' that will lead to Mr. Times's doom?"

Timothy III's grin remains unchanged as he turns to Kyle. "I don't know."

"Why do I even bother," the photographer balks and throws the hand not holding the "key of doom" into the air.

Timothy III doesn't acknowledge his comment and instead pulls into the parking lot of the Weekend Happy headquarters. "We've arrived. Come along now, Kyle." He steps out of the car, motioning for Kyle to follow. "You'll want to see this."

He internally admits that he is pretty curious, and realizing he has nothing better to do while having no clue where his friend and previous body are, Kyle follows.

After wandering through the building's halls, the two men arrive at the head office. Kyle had been directly sent abroad after his first interview with Timothy III and had never actually been inside the sketch show building.

It looks exactly like what he thinks a Bond villain’s lair would look like if said Bond villain was a hipster, which does not surprise Kyle in the slightest.

Timothy jumps onto his gamer-like office chair, letting it glide him to his massive desk. Well, the desk itself is rather normal-sized, it's just surrounded on all sides by multiple monitors with the one in the middle the size of a flat screen TV.

Timothy claps his hands. “DOOBS, turn on.”

Kyle does a double take. “I’m sorry...what?” His face scrunches up as he tries not to laugh.

“Data and Object-Oriented Building System. Aka ‘DOOBS’, obviously.” Timothy doesn’t even bother to look at Kyle, too busy working on his AI.

Oh...this. Is. Amazing!

The AI that had the fucking audacity to try to force him to act like he got fucked by a gazelle (and then judge him for not doing so) has a dumbass name like that? Priceless.

Kyle can’t help himself from letting out a scoff.

“What was that?” Tim turns towards him as the AI—DOOBS! HA!—gives him a system update.

Kyle covers his mouth with his fist as if he let out a cough rather than a laugh. “Nothing! Nothing whatsoever.” Shit, he really can’t stop laughing.

Tim gives him a strange look, but quickly moves on. “Hand me your phone, Kyle, I’m doing some updates and I may as well do some tests in between programming.” He developed a specific app for the company too? Wow, for someone focused on comedy and entertainment, Tim’s real computer savvy. It’s a wonder why he never put any attention into the tech industry.

Kyle hands Timothy III his phone and stays behind the other man’s chair, rocking back and forth on his heels. After half a minute of silence, he realizes he has no real reason to stick around watching his boss working on something he has absolutely no understanding of. “Actually, I just need to go to the restroom real quick.”

Timothy narrows his eyes. “Hmph. I won’t wait for you.” He starts giggling, “I must find out Mr. Times’s dirty little secrets…”

Weirded out, Kyle doesn’t hesitate to leave the office.

With his on-the-spot excuse working successfully, he takes the time to look around the Weekend Happy building, wondering what the empty offices must look like when filled with people. Although the overall layout of the building is similar to the New York Times, the decorations are more colorful and goofy than the black and white photos hanging off the latter’s walls, which makes sense given it is a comedy sketch show rather than a media company that tries to maintain a reputation of being "serious".

Kyle continues to absentmindedly walk around. Until he hears a skittering sound.

He freezes and whips his head towards the source, seeing nothing.

He continues onwards.

He hears it again, a bit louder.

Nope. Nope! Nope! This building is hella haunted.

He speedwalks, practically sprinting along the carpeted floors to get away. He looks behind himself the entire time, so naturally, he runs into a wall.

He falls on his back and groans in pain. The skittering is right against his ear.

Oh god, why?!

He closes his eyes. If he can’t see his death, Death can’t see him.

He feels light pin pricks over his cheek. He keeps his eyes stubbornly closed and the pin pricks pause before turning into full on cheek-indenting pokes.

“Stop it! Okay, I’m awake!" Kyle sits up and looks down at his attacker.

It’s a camera. A Canon EOS 5D, to be exact.

A Canon EOS 5D... with fucking mechanical spider legs.

“What the fuck?!” Kyle scoots back from the little monstrosity and tries to kick it away.

The walking camera leaps over his legs and just stares at Kyle with its large lens.

Kyle waits for the thing to do something else: run away or attack him.

It does neither. Instead, the lens seems to twinkle under the fluorescent lights.

Kyle raises his hand and brings it closer to the camera as if it is a stray dog. “Hey, there...creepy camera thingy...It’s...alright. I won’t hurt you...well, unless you start clawing my eyes out with your spindly legs.” He whispers the last part under his breath as to not give it any ideas.

The spider-camera looks at Kyle for a few seconds more, then skitters to the adjacent hallway. It stops after a few feet to stare back at Kyle yet again.

Kyle tilts his head in confusion. “Do you want me to follow you?”

The camera squats up and down as if it were nodding.

Kyle considers his options. Don't follow the possibly murderous camera or be led astray with the curiosity of what’s in store.

Ehhhh…. fuck it. It is kind of adorable.

Kyle follows the little camera through a maze of hallways, the little thing stopping every couple of feet to wait for him to catch up.

“Hey! Where are we going anyway?” Kyle asks again despite knowing he can’t get an answer back.

They stop in front of a rusty restroom door with a paper sign labeled “Out of Order” taped on it.

“Oh...woooow…” Kyle turns toward the camera which has perched itself on the door’s surface. “Um...uh, thank you. But I really don’t need to go to the restroom anymore.” Especially not one that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages.

The spider-camera ignores Kyle and picks the lock with the skinny, pointed ends of its legs.

Kyle motions for the robot to stop, “I said I don’t need—whoa!”

The door swings open into a wide expanse of a room. It’s white-washed under rows of artificial lights and filled with several machines of some kind. Its clinically clean interior is a definite contrast from its infested-looking exterior.

In the middle is a man strapped to a table. The camera immediately runs to the metal slab.

Kyle walks further inside what is most likely an evil experimentation lab (he was not expecting this to be inside the building of a famous comedy sketch show) and looks at the, hopefully not yet dead, man.

“Holy shit," he breathes out.

It’s the asshole from Queens. The TSA agent he and Sawson met in the JFK airport restroom. The one who did the ancient body-switching ritual.

The man’s eyes abruptly open.

“What the fuck?!” Kyle screams.

“Oh, fuck!” The man on the table also screams.

They just stare at each other screaming until the spider-camera scratches its mechanical legs along the metal table. The screeching it makes causes the two men to wince and stop.

The TSA agent tilts his head up towards Kyle and narrows his eyes in disbelief. “Wait a minute...I know you.”

“Yeah! It’s me, Kyle!” Kyle attempts to unlatch the metal contraption of a helmet off of the man’s head. “One of the guys you body-switched in the JFK airport restroom a couple of years ago.”

“The one who tried to fuck his friend?”

Kyle gives a slightly annoyed look at the unwanted reminder. The straps of the helmet won’t come off, so he continues onwards to the straps tied around the man’s arms and legs, but they are just as impossible to untie. “Yeah, that was me. Anyway! That doesn’t matter. How the hell did you get in this mess?”

“I-I don’t know! I was looking for a new job because I was starting to get burnt out at working as a TSA agent. Ever since the Star Wars drink incident—”

“Oh yeah, that was on the news.” Kyle interrupts, still unsuccessfully pulling at the restraints. Ugh, they probably need to be cut or something, he despairs.

“And when I got an email for a new security position to work at Weekend Happy, I was ecstatic! I love that show.”

“So, Timothy the Third lured you in here...but why?”

“No! Not Timothy the Third. It was his AI, DOOBS! That monster wanted to steal my magic.”

“Wait, DOOBS?! Magic?! What does that have—what?!” Having given up on the straps, Kyle just paces in front of the table and pulls at his hair in shocked disbelief.

“Somehow, DOOBS found out I had magic. I was called in for an interview and next thing I know I was strapped to this table and this helmet has been sucking out all of my mana.” The Queens guy’s eyes start to tear up having to recount his trauma. The spider-camera rubs its plastic body against the man’s face as if to comfort the poor man.

Wow, so there is a benefit to having an interview with an automated system. You won’t risk the chance of getting kidnapped if you stay inside your home.

Kyle shakes his head to refocus on the former TSA agent. “Hold on...what does DOOBS want to do with your magic?”

“DOOBS has been slowly absorbing my mana and transferring it to various pieces of production equipment.” Kyle looks over in realization at the sentient camera still comforting the strapped man. “It wants to take over Timothy the Third’s body and become human.”

“Oh, shit! Timothy the Third, I left him alone with the crazy AI!” Kyle glances at the open door before turning back to the other man.

“It might be starting the magic ritual. I’ve been trying to hide how the ritual works from it, but I was just so weak...It just took the last drop right before you arrived.” He starts sobbing and the spider-camera's lens fog up as it buries itself closer. “I’m so, so sorry...I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Kyle places his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m going to run back and see if I can stop it, and then I’m coming back for you.” Kyle then directs his attention to the robot camera. “Take care of him.”

Kyle runs out of the room and through the labyrinth of hallways, hoping he’s going the right way. He thanks any higher power that exists when he miraculously gets to Timothy III’s office and practically kicks the office door down.

"—isual skills challenge check. Embody the form of a gazelle and turn away from me."

No.

"Please ignore any outside interference and hold the form for 10 seconds."

No no no—

"Big Apple. Empire State Building."

No no nonono— "Tim, stop!"

The massive computer screen turns black and Timothy III seizes forward, collapsing on the ground.

"Tim!" Kyle's rushes to Timothy III, grabbing his shoulders to keep him steady. "Tim, buddy, are you alright? Come on, it's me, Kyle!"

"The third," the man wheezes out and weakly holds up three fingers, his other hand pressed harshly against his head.

Kyle releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding and rolls his eyes. "Good to see you're still you." Looks like the AI still doesn't have a grasp on New York magic. "Now, I know you might feel weird, but let's just take this slow—"

The hand correcting Kyle latches around his arm in a tight grip. "Oh, no, I feel just fine," the man smiles up at him, all teeth and cold eyes. "In fact, I feel great." And Kyle realizes maybe the magic was more potent than he thought.

"Uh oh," he says, trying to tug his arm from Timothy III's grasp, but his hold is like steel. Tim—DOOBS ignores his struggles and continues smiling.

"Hello, Kyle."

#middleditch & schwartz #middleditch and schwartz #kyle #sawson #dream job #mr. times #timothy III #doob #chapter 2 #fanfic #there was an attempt at plot #Queens guy #super cute robot #not so super cute evil AI #The DOOBS AI is a reference to Thomas Middleditch's character Doobs in Jake and Amir (on Youtube) which you should totally watch

[haitani-trash]

Relentless (Itachi x OC) (Canon story line)

Hiya folks, here’s another snippet of a canon version of Relentless, which is my story for my OC Ryuzaki Mai and Itachi. The first snippet of Relentless (AU) can be read here. This is taking place in the canon story (aka massacre still happens etc). I’ve got two versions of their story, one which is non-massacre AU (because I can), and one which follows the Itachi canon story line. This one is obviously a lot sadder than the non-massacre AU. 

Also, I was listening to the Guren theme as I wrote this, which in my mind, would be playing as this ‘scene’ happens. I think like this because I’m a fucking dork who pictures the scenes happening like they’re in the anime. Just roll with the weird.

*Canon story line*

Characters: Itachi x OC

OC: Ryuzaki Mai

Appearance: 5′6; dark purple blunt bob with full fringe but wears her hair in buns; blue eyes; pale skin.

Kekkei genkai: Blue Inferno Style. The use of wind chakra nature to enhance and manipulate the Ryuzaki clan’s blue fire chakra nature (blue fire burns hotter than normal red/orange fire).

Age: Itachi: 20, in the Akatsuki. Mai: 20, still ANBU.

To the outside world, it looked as though she were asleep, but to anyone who knew her, she was far from the unconscious state that she’d hopelessly sought for six long years.

‘Who’s this sleeping-ass bitch?’

Chuckling lowly, she slowly lifted her hanging head, opening her eyes to meet those of the man who had spoken. Not long after meeting his purple eyes, she moved her attention to the person standing beside him, and so on, and so on.

That is, until she met the eyes of the last member, standing on the outskirts of the group. There, her eyes lingered.

How much he had changed in six years did not surprise her, for she had also changed. His features remained the same as they had been the last time she’d seen him, but they had become significantly more pronounced which she attributed to aging; his jaw was more defined yet still graceful, his hair was still smooth and dark as night, and his shoulders seemed to have broadened, visible even underneath the large cloak that he wore as a symbol of where his loyalty lay. 

The most jarring changes were how the bags under his eyes had deepened, their colour a dark bruised purple; his face had become almost gaunt, his cheekbones protruding and his skin sickly pale; and lastly, his left arm which was slung across his chest, supported by his cloak as if he were nursing an injury.

When his eyes met hers, she suppressed a flinch.

There were no emotions in his cold, black eyes.

It was almost as if he was not seeing her…  but seeing past her.

She felt this deep within her soul, and she cursed herself for this.

Tearing her eyes away from Itachi, she pushed herself off of the hard, stone cliff that encompassed the Akatsuki hideout, uncrossing her arms as she took a few steps towards the group of criminals.

‘I have not come here to fight. I have come as a warning,’ she spoke to nobody in particular. How thankful she was that her voice did not quiver and that her shaking hands were hidden behind her back, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms.

It wasn’t that she was scared; rather, Mai felt a deep pain throughout her body that ached so forcefully that she could barely manage to keep herself from falling to her knees.

Seeing Itachi was harder than she had imagined it would be, and she had known it would be hell on earth. She simply could not look at the man who had slaughtered the only family that she had left, and see a criminal.

Because she loved him.

She had loved him then, and she loved him now. This had remained unchanged, despite how different they both had become in the six years they had spent apart.

‘What is your warning?’ the orange haired leader, Pein, spoke calmly; there was no sense of fear or danger in his body language—he did not see her as a threat.

Squaring her shoulders, Mai let out a long exhale of breath. ‘Stay away from Konoha. Stay away from the nine-tails jinchuuriki,’

Pein raised an eyebrow as if he found her warnings amusing. Before he could respond, another interrupted. ‘Yeah? And who’s gonna stop us, you stupid bitch?’

A sigh escaped her lips as she lolled her head to regard the man before returning her gaze to the leader of the group. ‘I will, Hidan,’

As she expected, the man laughed at the prospect of her being able to protect anything, though he looked slightly taken aback that she knew his name.

‘I say we just kill her now, hmm,’ spoke another.

‘No, Deidara,’ Pein stared at you—the amusement had not left his features, but he seemed to be taking you seriously.

‘Come on, Leader-sama, I could definitely take her. Her pretty face would make a nice sacrifice,’ commented Hidan, smirking.

‘You are not worth my time nor energy, Hidan,’ she deadpanned, not moving her gaze from Pein.

‘We do not intend to harm Konoha. All we require is the nine-tails,’ Pein spoke confidently, ‘We will not harm Konoha or any of its citizens if the nine-tails jinchuuriki surrenders himself to us,’ he took a step towards her, and her body tensed. ‘But we will not stop until we have reached our final goal, Ryuzaki Mai, Inferno of the Leaf, and we will do everything within our means to achieve this goal. If you interfere with our mission, we will show you the meaning of true pain,’

Before she could help it, the girl laughed. The laugh was loud and carried a dark tone that surprised even herself. ‘Pain? You think that I don’t know true pain?’ Her eyes drifted to and met those of Itachi, who appeared to not have moved his eyes from her during the entire interaction, ‘I know pain,’

Her cold, hardened, tensed exterior diminished slightly; this change in expression was not visible to anyone except for the Uchiha himself, for he had studied this girl and her mannerisms for the first 14 years of his life. He knew her better than she knew herself.

Mai could feel herself breaking down as the seconds carried on; Itachi was her home, and she had been without her home for six years. She was no better than a lost little girl, but her toughened exterior portrayed a very different person to the world. She needed to be strong, she needed to continue to protect the village, and she needed to be able to live without Itachi—this was made only the slightest bit easier by the fact that she was not allowed to mourn for her best friend. He had slaughtered his clan, leaving only his little brother alive, and he was a criminal. It would not have been acceptable for her to show any emotion other than rage towards his crime.

But that night… it played on loop every time she closed her eyes, and she could feel herself falling back into that moment before she could stop herself.

The village was dark and relatively quiet on the Tuesday night. She had been returning from a mission for the Hokage; something way too simple for an experienced ANBU, she had thought, but she had gone nonetheless because they were her orders. She was making her way towards the compound, despite the time, because Mikoto had, very early on in her shinobi career, demanded that she visit after every mission that she was assigned. Mikoto had fiercely taken on the role of being Mai’s mother after her parents’ deaths, and would not hesitate to scold her if she came home from a mission injured without having been to the hospital first. But after her scolding, Mikoto would do her best to patch up her wounds (or force her to the hospital) and make sure that she had something to eat before sending her home to bed.

Mai had sensed that something wasn’t quite right as she came within a few blocks of the Uchiha compound—it was after 10pm, but it was simply too quiet. Too dark. Her shinobi instincts told her that she needed to approach carefully, and this made her stomach twist; she did not know what she would do if something happened to the only family she had left.

The sight that met her eyes upon landing silently in a tree in front of the entrance to the compound was almost enough to cause her to lose her balance. Her right hand flew to cover her mouth in an attempt to muffle the shriek that had ripped itself from her throat without permission—her left hand flew to her pack and brandished a kunai… not that that would help the dead Uchiha splayed across the compounds main pathway.

Her first thought was: is Itachi dead?

Her second thought was: don’t be stupid, Itachi wouldn’t die like this.

Her third, and most disturbing, thought was: …but what if he has?

In that moment, Mai did not know if she would be able to live without Itachi; Shisui’s suicide had destroyed her and crushed her spirit, but she simply did not know if she could live without him. Without Itachi.

He was her rock.

He was her heart, and he was her soul.

Had they not been as skilled as her, the owner of the hand that was placed on her shoulder would have been killed instantly. Kakashi held her in a choke hold with her arms pinned to her sides, her kunai dropped and long forgotten. ‘Calm down, Mai-chan, it’s me,’

Kakashi released her, and she turned to face him. He would never forget the look of utter terror etched into his kohai’s face.

‘W-what…?’ no matter how hard she tried, her words would simply not form.

‘Mai-chan… I need to arrest you. We have to take you in for questioning,’ he spoke calmly. Though she could only see the expression in his one visible eye, she had never seen her senpai look so anguished, and it terrified her.

‘Kashi-senpai…? I didn’t… I didn’t do this… I…’

His eye softened as he came to realize that she had no idea what had happened, and his heart involuntarily clenched; he didn’t believe that she’d had anything to do with the massacre, but arresting her were his orders. He just wished that he didn’t have to be the one to destroy her.

Placing a hand on her shoulder once again, he spoke. ‘Itachi, he…he massacred the clan. Sasuke is the only survivor,’

Mai was pulled from her memories as a hand was placed on her shoulder, much like the way Kakashi’s had that night. A kunai was at Itachi’s throat before she had even opened her eyes.

A tense silence encompassed the clearing. The members of the Akatsuki were clearly surprised by Itachi’s actions, and did not know what to expect next.

His eyes were cold and dull when she met them; she was sure that hers only reflected the horror she felt that night, and she was very aware of the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Faintly, she heard muttering from the other members, but her focus was on the man in front of her.

Blinking to clear the tears from her eyes, she tightened her grip on the kunai until her knuckles turned white.

She had spent the past six years thinking of what she would say to Itachi if she were to ever see him again—how she would tell him that she knew everything that had transpired, how she had broken into the Hokage’s office and when confronted by Lord Third, had demanded answers with a kunai to his throat, because it just didn’t make sense. How he had told the broken girl everything.

She wanted to tell him that she did not hate him. She wanted to tell him how much she still loved him. How she was still in love with him. How she missed her best friend.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t jeopardize his cover.

So, she settled for two simple words:

‘I know,’

The words were spoken so softly that she doubted if he had even heard them, but Itachi’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parted with a quick breath, and he wondered how she had uncovered what had to have been one of Konoha’s most deeply buried secrets. But he quickly pressed his lips together in a tight line as he scolded himself; his best friend was smarter than to believe he would murder his family out of cold blood. He had always hoped that she would find out, and it brought a sense of relief that he did not relish, knowing that she had, for he was still a murderer and they would still be apart.

The silence between them lasted mere seconds, as both were very aware of their audience and the risks of this interaction.

‘You should leave,’ his voice was firm and calm; it was lower than she remembered, but just as smooth as it had always been.

It made her heart scream and her knees weak.

In the blink of an eye, Itachi’s hand was no longer on her shoulder, and he had taken steps backwards, though his eyes never left hers.

Mai did her best to compose herself, but it was hard. She had not felt his touch or heard his voice in six years, save for her dreams, and she would give anything to feel his touch and hear his voice once more.

Taking a shaky breath, Mai hardened her glare before prying it from Itachi’s lifeless stare. She glanced at the group of criminals gathered in front of her, all of which seemed slightly confused as to what had just transpired between the two strangers, for they did not know of Itachi’s carefully safeguarded past—a past that he has killed to keep a secret.

Gracefully sliding her left foot behind her right, a stance which, to Itachi, indicated her next move, she sneered one last warning to the Akatsuki, ‘Stay away from Konoha. Stay away from Naruto. Heed my warning, Akatsuki, or I promise that I will make your worlds burn until there is nothing left,’ and with a twist of her feet, the girl disappeared.

When she reappeared after using the teleportation jutsu, her knees gave way and she fell to the forest floor. Her body shook as it tried to contain the sobs that so desperately wanted to escape.

One fell through her grasp, and soon the rest followed.

Finally, alone in the forest, she allowed herself to grieve for what she had lost.

Finally, she allowed herself to grieve for Itachi.  

#this is a bit shit #but i wanted to write something sooo #itachi uchiha #Ryuzaki Mai #my oc #naruto #naruto shippuden #short story #itachi uchiha fic #oc

[renaroo]

Recovery None (60/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex, Sisouth Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: I am... I’m not sure how to feel considering that we’re a single chapter away from it just being done for good and that’s... wow this is literally the largest thing I have ever written to completion in my life and I’m just... really grateful for everyone who has come on this journey with me because I know it’s been a very very wild ride at the times, had its ups and downs, but it means a lot to have had all of you traveling that road with me. I hope I do you all justice as we wrap things up. And, who knows, I think I have a few surprises still in store for you who think you know how this all ends ; ) 

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @notatroll7, @analiarvb, @xhauntedangel, @washingtonstub, @every-survival, @icefrozenover, Yin, and irismon for the feedback!

Recovery Two XVIII: The Party Don’t Stop

South honestly had no idea what she was to expect on the other side of the transporter’s green flash and nauseating sense of repositioning. But she really could have predicted almost anything other than the Red nerd running face first into her chest plate. 

“Ow!” he whined, hitting the snow.

Theta popped up over South’s shoulder and tilted his head at the Red. “You should really watch where you’re going.”

Annoyed, South put a fist into the palm of her hand. “Or he was just volunteering to be the first thing I punched while I was here, which would be very kind of him,” South answered threateningly. 

Humming, Theta looked toward the Red almost sympathetically. “You could always apologize. I’ll put a good word in for you.” 

“Ah! You’re the bodyguard! This is great!” he said, scrambling back to his feet. “Don’t tell the others that I ran into you. Just let them think I contacted you. I honestly had no idea how I was going to do that anyway, but Washington is really scary when he wants something done.”

Lowering her hands, South looked incredulously at the simulation trooper. “You’re intimidated by Wash? What the fuck kind of soldier is intimidated by Wash?”

“One who doesn’t want to get shot?” he replied. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he kind of really hates people in Red armor. I’m in maroon armor. It’s the second most Red armor of the team. I basically have a target on me. Which isn’t supposed to happen because it’s not like I’m Grif!” 

A bit alarmed, Theta put a hand over his mouth. “Oh no! Why is there a target on Kaikaina?” 

“Who?” the trooper replied. 

“You mean her brother, I’d hope,” South said warningly. “Especially since I am her bodyguard and all. Wouldn’t really appreciate people threatening my protectorate.” 

Theta glanced at her sidelong. “That’s not what that word means.”

“Shut up,” South said before could even finish. 

“Okay, how many of the floating holographic guys are there?” Simmons finally asked. “That one dude that everyone’s freaking out about already has, like, at least half a dozen.”

“What?” South asked, looking at him seriously. “What new white guy!?”

Simmons’ head tilted even further. “The... one who isn’t the Wyoming guy trying to kill us?”

South’s eyes narrowed and Theta throbbed uneasily in her head. “Is this white guy also trying to kill you even though he isn’t Wyoming?” she asked seriously.

“Well, I thought that went without saying these days,” Simmons shrugged. “I mean... who have we met in the past week who hasn’t been trying unreasonably hard to kill us?”

Looking back toward the teleporter, South cracked her neck from side to side. “That means it can only be one person,” she said resolutely.

“Yep,” Theta nodded along with her.

Looking less than convinced, Simmons glanced between the two of them. “Really? You think it can only be one other guy on the whole planet who’s wearing white armor? What is it with you Freelancer guys?”

“It’s the guy who killed my brother, asswipe, show some respect!” South snapped at him. “Pretty damn sure he’s the other guy in white armor who is trying extraordinarily hard to be a pain in my ass and kill us all for AI and enhancements.”

Shocked, Simmons raised up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I didn’t know about the brother thing! Jesus. Everyone’s randomly revealing siblings and babies and craziness today!”

“Crazy...” South trailed off. “You haven’t seen crazy yet today,” she announced before grabbing Simmons by his chest plate’s strap and pulling him up to her. “Alright, asshole. You run back to the others and tell them I’m bringing you some backup you sure as hell probably don’t deserve. And you tell them that if anyone is killing this bastard it’s going to be me, got it?” 

Visibly shaken, Simmons looked side to side for help that wasn’t anywhere to be found. “I-I think I can remember that? Maybe not all of that... would you be okay with some paraphrasing?”

“No,” South snapped.

“Then let me write it down!” Simmons begged.

“Oh my god we’re wasting time talking,” South groaned. 

“Yeah, it’s all we know how to do, maybe you all should try it more,” Simmons offered before South pushed him to the snow. 

“Go hold off the Meta with the others. I’ll be coming with reinforcements.”

“Can I just tell everyone that part instead?” Simmons asked, but South was officially done listening to him.

"Just do what I said or I’ll punch you,” South warned as she headed back toward the bright green light of the teleporter.” Just as she began to step through, she could hear the rustling of the snow behind her as Simmons walked off. 

“Man you sound just like Tex,” he sighed.

A subconscious twitch came to South’s eye and she nearly turned around to question that statement, but she was already far enough into the teleportation field that she found herself whirling through space and landing in the confusing annoyance that was the box canyon from earlier.

And despite everything, Kaikaina and her brother were still sitting on the same ledge where she had left them. Except the turquoise one from the Horrific Incident That Shall Not Be Named was behind them. 

“Oh wow, did you kick ass that fast? You’re, like, the best fake bodyguard ever!” Kai exclaimed.

“Or the worst,” Grif said, looking South up and down. “That was too fast. She definitely ran away from the fight. Everyone we know is probably dead already.”

“Oh, like you’d do anything different,” the turquoise one said with a flick of his wrist. 

“I didn’t say I’d do anything different. I think it’s the smartest fucking thing any of these Freelancer assholes have done since they met us,” Grif announced before looking back toward South. “Congratulations. Hope you enjoy the good life with the rest of us survivors.”

South leered. “I did not come here because I was running. I came back here because circumstances have changed. I need equipment, and I need men.”

“Ah, fuck, I was hitting on you this whole time, too,” Kai groaned. “Can you settle for a strap on?”

“Wait what?” Grif said immediately.

The turquoise one turned so quickly on his heels he nearly toppled over. Though he then tried to make it work for him (it didn’t) by leaning back against a pillar and giving South two finger guns. “Helloooo. My name’s Lavernius Tucker. Single father. Lover. And love doctor.”

South stared at him. “I saw an alien burst out of your stomach, like, two hours ago.”

“Yeah, I mentioned the single father line already,” Tucker replied casually.

“You know what, I honestly don’t care,” South said flatly before looking around. “Where’s Four Seven Niner and that tank? And I saw a M12 ATV parked in front of the Red Base earlier. I’ll take that, too. We’ll need all of it and anything you might’ve hidden away in the respective armories of this purgatory of canyon.”

"Wow, they really must teach you Freelancers something special. It took me at least a week before I realized that this canyon is literally the first footstep into Hell,” Grif said flatly.

“Uh, if you mean Sheila and her new lady friend who totally doesn’t seem down with babysitting when Doc asked to take turns, they’re down there. On the ground. Where the giant tank is,” Tucker announced with a thumb toward the edge of the base.

“Are you talking about the alien? Why is that thing not dead yet?” South asked.

Theta appeared and shook his head. “South, that’s rude.”

“Yeah, we don’t shoot dogs!” Kai snapped.

“Dude! I told you, that’s my kid!” Tucker snapped at her.

“Wow, your kid looks just like a dog,” Kai replied.

“Smooth,” Grif snarked. 

“Where’s the ATV?” South asked, while nearing the edge of the base to leap off. 

“Are you talking about the Warthog?” Grif asked. “Which, of course, would be stupid if it was named absolutely anything else.”

“I’m not in on your inside jokes and I don’t care for your attitudes,” South snapped, looking over her shoulder. “I need weapons and I need men to shoot those weapons. Or. Better yet, to just shoot them myself. So are you going to offer me any of that besides the first two?”

“Lady,” Grif said plainly, “inside jokes and attitude is literally the only thing that this canyon can’t take out of my cold, dead hands.”

“Fair enough,” South said before dropping down to the ground below the base. 

Theta hummed with curiosity, fireworks going off behind his avatar. 

“What is it?” South asked without giving him a full glance.

“You ever notice that these people don’t seem too curious about the fact that you have an AI?” he asked. “It’s kinda weird. But I do guess they have a talking tank.”

“Theta, I literally could not care less about the inconsistencies with this box canyon,” South said with a shake of her head. “There’s a much bigger story to keep our eyes on. Like. Surviving. And. Conspiracies with large military industrial complexes.”

“Yeah, but the canyon part does leave more room for creativity,” Theta attempted to argue.

“And the embodiment of creativity killed North, so I think we should stop extrapolating and get back to work,” South said, standing in front of a giant Scorpion canyon that slowly turned its main canon toward her and Theta. “Fuck. Didn’t think this through.”

"South?” Niner’s familiar voice called from the tank. 

While South concentrated on the tank, she watched in her peripheral vision as the driver door lifted up and Niner arched over the edge enough to get a good look at South. 

“Yeah, hi,” South said, glancing toward Niner before warily reconcentrating on the tank. “Are you going to shoot me? Because a lot of people from the past lately seem pretty intent on that so I’d like some formal heads up.”

“I don’t feel like shooting you today, I’m just glad you’re alive,” Niner replied. “I was told otherwise.”

“Funny how that keeps being the case for everybody,” South said stiffly. “Unfortunately, North is dead. For real. You can ask my AI if you don’t trust me. Them supposedly not being able to lie and whatnot.”

“I’m increasingly doubting that’s the case the more I have to deal with the tiny assholes,” Niner announced. She nodded toward Theta. “Present company excluded.”

“Um, thanks?” Theta shrugged back. 

“North being dead means I’ve got scores to settle, too,” South continued to explain. “Tons of them. And I’d like to take your tank to help in that endeavor since the one who killed North happens to be the Meta.”

That seemed to take Niner by complete shock. “You know about the Meta?”

“I know to my former employer, his capture was more important than my life,” South replied. “So, what do you say? Drive a tank to victory for me?”

“Excuse me,” the tank piped up. “I do believe that this is something you should be asking me for.”

“You’re right,” Theta answered, projecting closer to the tank. “Please?”

“Oh what a delightful fellow construct! I would absolutely love to be of assistance! Especially if it involves shooting Freelancers,” the tank said happily.

“Great,” South said, sidestepping away from the tank’s canon only to have it follow. “You two head over to the teleporter and I’ll go get my transportation.”

“Teleporter?” Niner asked before turning to glance up at Blue Base. “You mean that fucking thing? How the hell are we supposed to get Sheila in there? It’s too small of a hole--”

“WAAAAAIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!!!” a primal scream came from the base, causing all three to turn and face the ramp as Tucker came barreling down it. He ran the entire way, a small dark skinned, alien creature in hot pursuit. They both stopped just short of the three women and Tucker grabbed his knees, breathing hard. “Okay. Ready.” He stood back up and fired shotgun fingers at the three of them. “Baby, no hole’s too small, we can make it work.”

South glared at him. “I’m going to shoot you now.”

“Wait,” Niner said, holding up her hand. “Alien-baby-dude? Are you saying your dick’s small enough for any hole?”

Almost immediately, Tucker went rigid. “What!? No! I--”

“Bow chicka honk honk!” the alien creature cooed. 

"Aw, that’s adorable,” South joined in snarkily. “I think I might’ve given men a chance if more of them took pride in their small dicks.”

Niner snorted and banged on the side of the tank as Sheila’s canon nodded up and down with an “Oh my.”

“Hey, is that anyway to talk in front of a newborn?” Tucker demanded, throwing a thumb in the alien’s direction. It honked in response. 

“Okay, this has gotten supremely stupid,” South determined before pushing forward. “Niner, you and the tank get ready. We’re going to expand that portal hole and I’m going to grab the--” South stopped as well as the others did when there was something loud playing in the distance, echoing off the canyon walls. “Is... Is that polka music?” 

There was an exuberant scream as the ATV South had taken notice of before came flying over a hill and bounced into a landing, turning widely to circle back around and face them all. Three people were already in it.

“Fucking yes! Do it again! I love the vibration from the motor when we jump,” Kai shouted from the passenger seat, hitting on the dashboard. “I think it’s because they say I have an extra large clit.”

“Kai, shut up,” Grif said from the driver’s seat before pausing and turning to more directly face his sister. “Wait what.”

“As a physician who just performed her physical, I can attest to that statement,” the purple armored man in the back said before giving an evil laugh that almost sounded to South like it had to make his throat hurt. “Of course the best part of this was knowing that every excruciating detail of her physical would be used as supposed preexisting conditions and penalize her for any medical insurance. Bwahaha.”

“Pfft, lived this long without any,” Kai said flippantly, waving her hand. “Bring it on, Mister Hyde.”

“What are you doing?” South demanded, “I need that vehicle to take with us to get revenge for my brother. None of you have any stake in that.”

“Lady, you ain’t kidding,” Grif replied with a snort. “But my asshole teammates are out there and... Well, if something could kill a Freelancer, obviously they’re pretty fucked without my skills as the handy getaway driver.”

“Dude, whatever, you seen Wash?” Tucker asked. “He gets a new bullet hole in him on the hour. As far as I can tell, we avoid death way better than any of these elitist fuckers. I mean. Who’ve we lost so far that hasn’t come back to life? Even Sarge survived a shot to the head.”

“Hey! He survived that because of my mouth to mouth!” Grif proclaimed. “Even Doc said so!”

It took a moment for the commotion that was everyone talking over one another to fully sink in for South, and even once it had, she wasn’t sure she fully believed what her own ears were hearing. Her eyes sharply shifted between the group gathered around the enormous tank and the group gathered around the so-called Warthog.

“You -- all of you -- want to come with me and do this? What the hell for?” she demanded. 

“Uh, not for you? I just explained the thing about being the getaway driver,” Grif replied. 

“I have to work off this baby weight,” Tucker shrugged. 

“I’ve got to go where my bodyguard’s heading, where else is she supposed to protect me? Fuck, you suck at this job,” Kai joked. 

“There’s a possibility that there will be severe injuries that might need treated,” Doc spoke up. “I mean, I’ve not saved anyone yet, but who’s to say I can’t in the future!” He then let out another low laugh. “Or simply watch my enemies’ inevitable demise!”

“Yeah, swelling with confidence with that one around,” Niner snarked. “I’m going because I owe it... I owe it to Carolina, York, Wash... and you, South. I owe it to you to not let you go in there without a giant ass tank behind you.”

“I might finally learn what happened to Lopez if I follow,” Sheila announced. “I do worry about him. It seems like so much has happened outside of the canyon. And he has never returned my calls.”

South scowled. It was the same as always, everyone was working toward their own ends. 

Theta appeared over her shoulder and looked at her quietly. “People can work for multiple reasons, South. We’ve just gotta trust we all want the same thing.”

Glaring back at him, South shook her head. “And where I am I supposed to get confidence about that being the case for everyone else? I don’t trust anyone.”

“Gotta learn to try to,” Theta offered. “Just like I learned to trust you.”

Swallowing, South looked away. Theta didn’t have to say the rest of that too true assessment. Just like she had learned to trust him, too.

“We’ve got to make that hole bigger,” South announced. “And gather as much shit as possible.”

“Bow chicka honk honk,” the alien cooed again.

“Fucking really, Tucker?” Grif asked critically.

“Dude, I didn’t teach him that, it’s genetic,” Tucker replied.

“I already hate everything about this,” South lied under her breath.

...

In truth, South was not sure how they managed it. But the fact that Niner was somehow able to pout about the fact that they wouldn’t try to fit her pelican in, too, was almost enough to make the disbelief wear off. 

South stood on the back of the Warthog and gave everyone warning looks. “I don’t care what everyone’s goal is once we get to the other side--”

“If we get on the other side,” Tucker called from his seat on the tank with the tiny alien in his lap. “Just saying, every time I’ve been through the thing it’s been fucked.”

“The thing I care about,” South continued, unfazed, “is that the creep in the white armor is mine.”

“I thought there were two creeps in white armor,” Doc called out from beside her.

“Then they’re both mine. Just in case,” South snapped. “We ready?”

“No,” Grif said at the same time Kai exuberantly smacked the dashboard screaming, “Yes!” 

South’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. This was going to be a disaster.

Just a little trust, Theta reminded her, as if they were in a goddamn Disney movie. 

“That’s it we’re going through,” South warned, getting in position. “Grif, make this as fast as you fucking can, hopefully the teleporter will collapse after we all get through to the right location.”

“Yeah,” Grif said, revving his engine before hesitating. “Wait what? What the fuck?”

“GO!” Kaikaina screamed, reaching her leg over the gear stick in order to slam her boot down on her brother’s, sending them flying forward. 

There was a multitude of curses but the main objective was being achieved. South couldn’t help but continue to project the feeling that Kaikaina was, by far, her favorite of the weirdos she had discovered along with the other remaining Freelancers. 

It’s funny how everyone seems to like these guys, Theta said in her mind. They’re the complete opposite of Freelancer.

That’s enough for me to like just about anyone, South answered firmly just before they launched through the staticky green light ahead of them and began to once more break apart, molecule by molecule, and form on the other side. 

There was a moment longer than the usual transporter jump where South briefly felt her heart stop and her mind wonder into the sort of territory that was remotely this was the dumbest way I could have died after all of that. But the blinding green light exploded into a world of white and distant colored hues and her ears popped with the explosion of it all. 

And surely enough, her entire body bounced with the Warthog as they hit the snowbank directly in front of them and, immediately, stopped their momentum completely. 

South glared forward before looking down to the Grif siblings. “Did you just get us stuck in the snow? Three seconds after we got here? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Hey, I have a very firm rule about backseat driving!” Grif snapped back, throwing the Warthog into reverse and revving the engine in an attempt to pull them out.

“Whoo! Element of surprise!” Kai screamed.

Theta manifested over South’s shoulder and cleared his throat. “Um, South?” he called quietly, pointing in the distance as a hulking white figure approached them. 

There was only one glance South needed to know who was coming their way. “Motherfucker,” she snarled, pushing Doc out of the way and taking command of the gatling gun. 

“Hey, I think that’s the white guy over there,” Kai stage whispered as Grif continued to try to back them out of the snowbank. “Grif! Grif! Tell me if I got the color right! It’s just like when we were kids! Only this time I won’t be asking you what color dicks are!”

“What!?” Grif cried out just before managing to get them out of the snow and slinging all of them around. 

Barely managing to hold on, South shot the gatling gun toward the sky instead of at her target, causing a string of curses to escape her that Theta fled back into the recesses of her implants in fear. 

Doc wasn’t so lucky and ended up face first in the very snowbank they had managed to only narrowly escape. 

“Hey!” Grif shouted back at South. “Is that the guy trying to kill everyone? The one with the stupid helmet?” 

“Yes!” South yelled back.

“Sweet!” Kai called out before slamming her foot down on her brother’s again to send them flying toward the Meta, Grif yowling in pain in the process. 

Before South could even think twice, the Warthog lunged forward aimed directly at the Meta. The move itself seemed to take everyone by surprise as a few colorful sim troopers all but leapt out of the way as the vehicle hit its mark and went cruising toward the wrecked Mother of Invention. 

The Meta slammed against the hood of the Warthog, roaring and snarling as it scratched at the metal and reached for the front window. Which caused the two Grifs to scream harmoniously.

Seeing the golden opportunity approaching, South pulled her brother’s rifle out from over her shoulder. “Duck!” she screamed at the Grifs. 

“Okay!” Kai cried as she did so.

“Why!?” Grif yelled just before South took her shot through the window. “Jesus christ!” 

Theta appeared right over South’s shoulder as the chest plate of the Meta burst open with the intensity of the armor piercing bullet. He glanced toward her, a readout of the energy signatures from the Meta flying across South’s visor. 

“That cut a major power supply, but his bioscans are still off the chart, I think he has a suped up healing unit that’s repairing his chest cavity,” Theta explained. 

“How is that possible?” South demanded, reloading. 

“I don’t know, if they have enough AI they can probably assign one to each task,” Theta announced. “Impact three... two...”

For reasons she could not explain in the moment, South grabbed Kai’s back plating, kicked the girl’s brother out into the snow, and then leaped with Kai in tow off of the Warthog just before it slammed, Meta in tow, into the side of the Mother of Invention. 

South hit the snow shoulder first and rolled with Kai, protectively shielding her as the Meta roared and attempted to--

The Warthog was almost hitting the siding of the ship but the Meta was beneath it, dropping to the snow under the Warthog and saving itself from damage as the vehicle crashed above him.

“What the fuck!?” York’s all too familiar voice called out from the other side of the snowy clearing. “Did anyone else just see that!? Seriously, did anyone--”

“It has the time distorter!” Carolina yelled. “It was Wyoming’s unit.” 

Angrily, South looked over to them all, watching as the other Reds gathered around Grif and helped him up. Tex was standing not too far from them with a Blue and some other Blue slung over her shoulder. 

“Does no one besides my brother know how to stay fucking dead!?” South screamed out.

As South got to her feet, helping Kai up in the process, Washington led the others to a tighter formation toward them, they were all still surrounding the Meta who was rolling out from underneath the wrecked Warthog. 

“We need to stop him,” Wash growled out. “Suggestions?”

“I was the one tasked with stopping him, but Niner ran as my second pair of eyes,” Carolina informed them all. “I never managed to fully complete the mission for a number of reasons. One of them being that he’s just too damn creative with how he’s using all of the stolen enhancements.”

“Someone say my name?” Niner’s voice crackled over the radio, turning all heads toward the transporter where, at long last, the tank and its occupants got through. “You would not believe the bumpy ride we just had!”

“Niner!” Carolina yelled out in relief.

“Can you fucking blow the Meta to the sky?” South demanded. 

“Wow, that’s the quickest I have ever seen someone resort to a Plan B in the history of ever,” Niner scoffed while Sheila took aim with her cannon. 

“Wait! It has a dome shield!” Washington yelled out, close proximity causing everyone close to him to flinch back. “Any explosion will bounce off and hit the rest of us!”

“Why the fuck are you screaming, you idiot? Turn your radio on,” South snapped.

“Dude, don’t call Wash an idiot!” Tucker called, leaping down from the tank, the alien creature sitting on his shoulders. “Everyone who doesn’t have their radios off right now is a fucking idiot. If this thing is super powerful because it has a bunch of AI, and Omega’s big deal was that he hopped around using our radio signals, then anyone not turning off their radio is like a huge fucking liability right now!”

Everyone stared at Tucker.

“What the fuck is that?” Washington said, breaking the momentary silence. 

“What the fuck is what?” Tucker asked while the alien chewed on his helmet. “Oh, you mean Junior? Yeah, I guess you all missed it! This is Junior, I just gave birth to him.”

“No,” Grif growled. “Unfortunately we didn’t miss it.”

“It was like a pro-abortion commercial,” Kai explained to the others. “I’ve never been more confident in my life choices like ever.”

South blinked. “Wait, what?”

"Wait! Everyone shut up!” a screechy voice South had never heard before demanded.

When she looked toward it, however, South found herself starring down an all too familiar armor. Tex was approaching from the flank and somehow that voice was coming from her as she continued to hold the Blue over her shoulder. 

“Church--” Tex began only for a bright white light to shine over her shoulder. “Goddammit. We’re not even going to discuss this. You little fucker--”

“Hey!” the white light called before forming a sprite not at all dissimilar from the kinds that many of the Freelancer AIs wore. “You fucks are in trouble. Look who’s got their radio on.”

Theta all but gasped through South’s own mouth, making her step back in shock. “The Alpha!” he cried out.

No sooner had he said it than Maine’s body stood rigid, a multitude of AI swarming around his domelike head. Chants of Alpha Alpha Alpha echoed eerily from it. 

“Goddammit, Church!” Tex snarled just before she dropped the Blue’s body and held up her fists. “Alright, assholes. You want some? You’ve gotta come get some.”

All at once, the circling AI came together in a flurry of light and obnoxious humming that sent everyone with their radios on reflexively flinching back, including South. She grabbed at the edges of her helmet and dropped to her knee, feeling like Theta was going to vibrate right through her skull. 

“Theta!” she growled.

Then, as soon as it started, the AI disappeared and Maine dropped to his knees as well, letting out a guttural noise just before having to support himself with one fist through the snow. 

Washington was the first to turn toward Tex, looking mortified. “Tex!?” 

“Oh, fuck!” Tucker cried out. “Tex!? Church!?”

“Tucker,” Tex gritted out. “Remember how you put this body together?” she demanded. “Remember where all the important power pieces are?” 

Tucker looked at her confusedly before suddenly igniting a bright plasma sword right before everyone’s eyes. “Yeah...?”

South looked over the simulation troopers and then went back to staring at the sword in Tucker’s hands. “Who the fuck are you people!?” she found herself thinking out loud. 

"You’re going to need to use that to dismantle me as quick as possible,” Tex informed him.

“What the fuck,” Tucker said for everyone.

“This just got heavy,” York muttered loudly.

“We could have simply let the Blues tear each other apart this whole time!? How could we have not used this foolproof plan before now?” Sarge howled. “Surely it is somehow Grif’s fault.”

“What are you talking about? They’ve literally been killing each other since the start,” Grif pointed out. “Except for that time Donut killed Tex.”

“Thanks for the shoutout!” Donut called from the safety of the tank.

“But... But what about Church?” the large Blue asked, picking up the limp body that Tex had dropped. “I don’t want you to be in pieces either, Tex. I’d like us all to just go home now. Together. Minus Tucker.”

“Goddammit, you guys, don’t you trust me!?” Tex roared. “Take me apart and take me apart right the fuck now before these bastards get control over us!”

Everyone was still stunned into silence when South lifted North’s sniper rifle, aimed for Tex’s head and fired a shot right in the middle of everyone, eliciting more than a few screams. 

“I told you,” she said coldly to everyone around her, “I called dibs on the one who killed my brother.”

“Holy shit, you’re a badass,” Kai laughed.

“Church! Tex!” Tucker and Wash cried out, nearing the body laying in the snow, sparking from the top of its shoulders. 

“Tucker, you fucking idiot, we told you to start tearing us apart!” 

Everyone let out a confused ‘huh’ and looked over toward the tall Blue holding the limp Blue’s body. Except it wasn’t limp anymore and instead was shoving against the hulking Blue’s chest. 

“Goddammit, Caboose, let go of me!” the Blue demanded. Then, in Tex’s voice, “Luckily, I’m aware enough of our surroundings to figure some asshole here would do the hard part and jumped us just before things went whammy. Now, Tucker, tear that body into pieces so that the AI stuck in it don’t get any grand ideas about using any of the hundreds of weapons I’ve got stored away in there.”

Washington looked at Tex with a tilt of his helmet. “That seems like a bit of an exaggeration.”

"No one asked you, Wash,” both voices snapped simultaneously.

“Alright, alright, I get it, my three hours of tinkering means I have to now take you apart. Jesus. I’d never have agreed to that if I knew it was going to come back and bite me in the ass,” Tucker groaned, setting the alien on his shoulders back on the ground then nearing the black armored body. “C’mon, Junior, I’ll show you what it’s like to play with Legos. Except human body parts sized.”

South stared at the scene with a strange, discomforting quiet. Her mouth pressed tightly to a thin line as she stared at them all. 

“Hey,” Kai called, approaching her side. “You shot her head off! Good on you. You feel better?”

Theta stayed quiet, and despite wanting to join him, something compelled South to answer. 

“Not at all,” she answered. “There... There are a lot of people I’d like to see pay before I’m going to feel good about anything relating to Freelancer.”

There was an ominous silence shared by the fellow survivors around her. 

“Cool,” Kai said. “What’s Freelancer?”

Before there could truly be an answer to the most ridiculous but reasonable questions South had ever been asked in her life, there was a horrible roaring from Maine. It was a primal, hateful sound that was full of malice as he charged. But just before anyone could react, the tank came rolling down the hill, comically snatching Maine out of his position before ultimately coming to a stop with him grasping and clawing to no avail under the tank’s treads. 

“He is much tougher than he looks!” the tank’s AI complimented. 

Niner popped out from the cockpit and shrugged. “Seemed like a shame to bring a tank and not use it.”

“I have the same saying about big guns,” Donut said cheerily from his perch. 

“Okay, but what are we supposed to with that thing now?” Simmons asked, pointing toward Maine. “I mean... we probably shouldn’t have someone dissect it with a sword.”

“Absolutely not!” Carolina snapped. “Besides, Tex and I saw from the ship, there are UNSC investigators on their way here. We just need to hold Maine and get our story straight.”

“It won’t matter what the story is,” South snorted, shaking her head at the naivety. “Don’t know what wonderful dreamworld you all live in, but I happen to know for a fact that the UNSC is going to come here looking for someone to blame. And Freelancers seem pretty high on the top of that list of good scapegoats, don’t they? Steal our armors, take our enhancements, put us on trial, lock us up, shut us up. Or maybe offer some of you a deal to work for them indefinitely on suicide missions. Been there. Done that. It fucking sucks, just for reference.”

York crossed his arms. “Anyone ever tell you that professing to a history of backstabbing and double crossing isn’t the greatest reflection of someone’s character?” 

“Anyone ever tell you that I haven’t wanted anything more than to spend the rest of my life punching you in the dick?” South demanded. 

“Everyone stop,” Carolina spoke up, holding up her hands. 

“Sure thing, Boss,” Wash said all too easily.

“No. No sure thing, Boss,” South growled out. “You’re not a leader anymore, Carolina, because we’re not a team. We never were.”

“God, these guys have so many fucking issues,” Grif bemoaned. 

“I may not be a leader,” Carolina agreed, “but I have information that might save all of us once the UNSC is here wanting to arrest us all. And it’s only going to work if some of us can get our shit together and actually work together to make sure he doesn’t get away.”

“He?” South and Wash echoed at the same time. 

“The Director is inside the Mother of Invention,” Carolina explained. “And we’re going to make sure he stays that way.”

The three of them looked at each other, then to the crowd of miscreants that had all gathered together for the colossal mess that had been the last fifteen minutes.

But only Kai was looking South’s way. 

“That one of the people you need to cross off to feel better?” she asked genuinely.

South thought about it and exhaled firmly through her nose. “Yeah,” she said lowly. “Yeah, it is.” She looked warily toward Carolina and Washington. “Why the three of us?”

“Because, we’re all Recovery Agents,” Carolina announced, somewhat surprising South and utterly flooring Washington by the looks of it. “And he’s the last piece of this puzzle we need to recover.”

“Go on,” York said, walking toward them. “I’ll help everyone hold down the fort and slow the UNSC when they get here. I’m good at talking things over,” he reminded them. 

“According to who?” South asked skeptically. “Nevermind, I don’t even have the attention span for mocking you right now. I want to kick the Director’s ass. Maybe shoot him.”

“We need him alive,” Carolina argued firmly.

“There are nonlethal ways to shoot people,” Wash said darkly.

“See, Wash gets it,” South said, leading the walk toward the Mother of Invention. “And I’m more than ready for this all to be over.”

#rvb fic #writing #RvB: Recovery None #Agent South #AI: Theta #Dick Simmons #Dexter Grif #Kaikaina Grif #Lavernius Tucker #Frank Doc DuFresne #AI: Sheila #Four Seven Niner #Tucker Junior #Agent Maine #Agent York #Agent Carolina #Agent Washington #Agent Texas #Alpha Church