#Whelp this blew up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kichimiangra · 9 months

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I like the idea that Digimon who are parted from their human partner, especially if the massive time speed difference is in effect, get a bit weird about it. We saw in Digimon Survive how [spoiler character] reacted by jealousy attacking partnered Digimon, while never able to bring themselves to harm any human. In other cases, I like to imagine that the Digimon do stuff like start talking for their missing human, or the human is a couple of minutes away but coming soon, or getting a worrying amount of art commissioned. The human partner finally reunites and things go from "Aw, you got a picture made of me!" to "Oh, you got a lot of pictures! ...And sculptures. And is that a recreation of my room?" pretty fast.

[insert 'talking to the volley ball movie' joke here]

It's kind of hard to imagine Gulus trying to simply have a reasonable conversation to convince Hiro to sync with him because, in fairness he's had the whole fucking series to try that. He even actively shut down a Hiro that was willing to chat with him under the reasoning of "It's not time yet" and then finally in the finale decided it was 'time' then and evolved to Regulus, and never really see a reason for why that earlier convo was shut down for bad timing.

(Maybe if the line was "There's no time left" then turns back to Gamma that would have made more sense because there was no time for the convo while Gulus had to go nappy-doo? Or maybe by "It's not time yet" he meant that he was biding his time to let the grb infection he left behind infect the digital world? I dunno)

But Gulus has effectively had the whole series to be like "Look man you are a logical mature guy, hear me out; I am literally the lesser of two evils and the other one is heading this way and oh my god is it so much worse than I am--"

I do love when characters are forced into a position of "Whelp... guess you have no choice but to trust me lol!" though.

I'd say it's similar in that both digimon are precious babies at the beginning being taken care of by their human partner, but I think the biggest difference early on is that Takato and Guilmon's relationship feel like he's trying to raise a child sized talking pet, and Guilmon by the end feels like he's grown a lot, meanwhile Hiro and Gammamon immediately feels like Hiro has been given a super powered baby brother to raise, who also mostly stays baby until the end. It's not to downplay Takato and Guilmon's relationship, but Hiro/Gamma feels a little more personal from the word go, while Takato and Guilmon feel like the two took a little while longer to bond with each other. Maybe it's because Hiro and Gammamon almost feels like it has this "Maternal-ness" to it while Takato and Guilmon are more like "Dad who was suddenly handed a kid and told it's his and the mom skipped town so he's all alone and has no clue what he's doing" vibe. New AU: Hiro and Takato are roommates, neither knows what to do with their new digimon partners so now they are the figurative mommy and daddy to two babies.

I should have moved this one up between the last GG and the Tamers message. Sei la vie.

As mentioned above, omg yes really Gulus has every reason to try and communicate but the writers just needed to stretch things out. I think it's more frustrating because it COULD be finagled to have the same result but with a more satisfying path;

Have it so that early on Gulus just COULDN'T come out for long and throughout the series had to waste whatever energy he stored up to bail the kids out of danger: -He wasted his energy vs TeslaJellymon and Angoramon in his first appearance and crapped out. -He blew his load in Arukenimon's mouth his second outing and had to go nap nap. -He struggled to try and come out to fight Myotismon but just hadn't stored up enough juice to be able to override Gammamon, lucky Cannoweismon happened so he could conserve his strength. -He saved Hiro and Ruli from Oroboromon AND got a large colorful Snickety Snack out of it, now wise enough to know to keep storing power. -He's been stockpiling juice for a while and feels he's ready to just threaten Hiro into syncing with him vs TonosamaGekomon, now becoming impatient. It falls through with minimal energy loss as he just brute forces' TonosamaGeko. -Finally back in the digital world he's bidded his time and preserved enough energy to completely overpower Gammamon, and take back his body, plus awesome zombie army, Which took over a year of napping in Gammamon and occasionally dipping into that energy store. That's really all that the writers had to do was make it so that his time in control of the body was too limited after each time he drained his battery for that conversation to happen, and by the time he had a more extended reserve he had better plans to roll off of. "Fuck it, we ball."

It's one of the most frustrating elements of GG, because of everything we canonically know about Gulus he really had no reason NOT to talk to them, especially when they had longer than an in-universe year to do so, and Hiro was already early on receptive to communication with Gulus, and the only reason he didn't pursue it was that Kiyoshiro advised against it out of fear.

Pretty much just... rebellious Gammamon levels of misbehaving on a daily basis around the house. Purposely breaking things. Taking bites into non edible things and denying having done it despite the teeth marks lining up to him and not Gammamon, just anything that can be viewed as threatening and disruptive without technically breaking any of the 100 some odd rules Gammamon regurgitated for him to follow. But then when hologram ghost situations occur and Gulus gets a turn to show he can be a good boy (He can't) and handles things in the worst way, like Picking Hiro up into the air mid combat, because Kaus can bring Hiro to an aerial fight so why can't he? Only to just drop Hiro mid-air so he can use both his hands in combat, Hiro on barely being caught by Angora or Jelly, showing Gulus can't behave in a house setting and he can't responsibly be a team player in combat. Kiyo feels he hasn't changed. Ruli can see improvement, little as it may be but doesn't trust that Gulus isn't just waiting to cause trouble again, as he is very patient, while Hiro and Gamma are the only ones who can tell he is genuinely trying, even if passive aggressively.

Honestly, episodic shows that have a larger strung together plot in the background while the highlight is just "What are we going to do today?" Are my favorite kinds of shows. They often overlap with "Slice of life, but with a twist" and I think that's what propelled Digimon Ghost Game into one of my favorite Digimon Series overall.

That said, I do agree that I wish that at least the ending was a bit more Serialized because... it's the big finale to that plot string in the background this whole time? And both what is going on in the Digital world with our protags AND what is going on with all the refugee digimon in the human world had great potential to be interesting stories on their own. Both feel a bit half baked though because once again, the pieces of something awesome are there, the writers just didn't use it. Honestly related but that's like one of the endings to Digimon Survive, I think it was the Wrathful ending, where it becomes a distopian world, Kemonogami are leaking into the human world, not everyone finds their partner but some do, the government doesn't see the difference or care about good or bad mon, and the survive kids kinda go on to become freedom fighters to try and protect the now outlawed Partnered kids from ending up like Aoi did. And I'm like.... That's an interesting story, how dare you end it there. Make a whole series with this concept?

Okay but boy is a camping wilderness survivor who probably enters some kind of Lumberjack games every year. This kid could dead lift Gulus and he'd be like "WHUT THE FUCK HOW CAN YOU DO THAT?" And Hiro would be like "I eat straight meal worms for protein and chop wood for fun! Get your flannel shirt cape and lemme show you how to knock down a tree with nothing but a spork, a toothpick, and a canadian beaver!"

New headcanon: For badass Gulus is he is surprisingly easy to bugs bunny into submission. The gang just never had the chance to realize that.

#digimon #digimon ghost game #kc answers stuff

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frodolives · 5 months

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For the people who are curious about the Hartgrind yaoi here you go. From the original Dickens:

‘Do you smoke?’ asked Mr. James Harthouse, when they came to the hotel.

‘I believe you!’ said Tom.

He could do no less than ask Tom up; and Tom could do no less than go up. What with a cooling drink adapted to the weather, but not so weak as cool; and what with a rarer tobacco than was to be bought in those parts; Tom was soon in a highly free and easy state at his end of the sofa, and more than ever disposed to admire his new friend at the other end.

Tom blew his smoke aside, after he had been smoking a little while, and took an observation of his friend. ‘He don’t seem to care about his dress,’ thought Tom, ‘and yet how capitally he does it. What an easy swell he is!’

Mr. James Harthouse, happening to catch Tom’s eye, remarked that he drank nothing, and filled his glass with his own negligent hand.

‘Thank’ee,’ said Tom. ‘Thank’ee. Well, Mr. Harthouse, I hope you have had about a dose of old Bounderby to-night.’ Tom said this with one eye shut up again, and looking over his glass knowingly, at his entertainer.

‘A very good fellow indeed!’ returned Mr. James Harthouse.

‘You think so, don’t you?’ said Tom. And shut up his eye again.

Mr. James Harthouse smiled; and rising from his end of the sofa, and lounging with his back against the chimney-piece, so that he stood before the empty fire-grate as he smoked, in front of Tom and looking down at him, observed:

‘What a comical brother-in-law you are!’

‘What a comical brother-in-law old Bounderby is, I think you mean,’ said Tom.

‘You are a piece of caustic, Tom,’ retorted Mr. James Harthouse.

There was something so very agreeable in being so intimate with such a waistcoat; in being called Tom, in such an intimate way, by such a voice; in being on such off-hand terms so soon, with such a pair of whiskers; that Tom was uncommonly pleased with himself.

‘Oh! I don’t care for old Bounderby,’ said he, ‘if you mean that. I have always called old Bounderby by the same name when I have talked about him, and I have always thought of him in the same way. I am not going to begin to be polite now, about old Bounderby. It would be rather late in the day.’

‘Don’t mind me,’ returned James; ‘but take care when his wife is by, you know.’

‘His wife?’ said Tom. ‘My sister Loo? O yes!’ And he laughed, and took a little more of the cooling drink.

James Harthouse continued to lounge in the same place and attitude, smoking his cigar in his own easy way, and looking pleasantly at the whelp, as if he knew himself to be a kind of agreeable demon who had only to hover over him, and he must give up his whole soul if required. It certainly did seem that the whelp yielded to this influence. He looked at his companion sneakingly, he looked at him admiringly, he looked at him boldly, and put up one leg on the sofa.

#it was this passage that inspired the entire post #why are you (as two men) going to a private hotel room...?#hard times #dickensposting

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factual-fantasy · 2 years

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20 Asks (With FNAF stuff!🎉)

@sallychaosaura This question is a bit overdue for me to answer.. 😅

So to make a long story short, I wanted to try quilting recently for a gift I’m making, but I wanted to practice a bit before I went out and blew all my money on materials.

So I rummaged through my scrap fabric drawer and found only 4 quilting squares. Only 4! Two were this blue stiped thing and the other two were pink with orange poka-dots.. Then I found a big piece of colorful zigzag fabric that I never used and thought: “Whelp. This will do.”

And so I made a teenie tiny quilt out of scrap materials in preparation for the bigger quilt later! It came out uh.. kind’a rough to put it lightly, as most first attempt crafts do. But just as I was about to fold up the quilt and put it away.. I saw Bibi on my desk. And I realized that it was just the right size! And from then on I just drew Bibi with a little grossly colored quilt blanket/cape. <XD

And actually, my second practice attempt was the blue quilt Jangles is wearing! It just so happened to be a perfect fit for him too! I think Jangles’ cape came out much better. And its uh. Not as hard on the eyes. XDDD

@danman22ful (The link in ask)

I have now! Pretty spoopy! :0

I do! :} People can DM me for a link. Although I may decline if you seem sus. Like if you’ve never liked any of my posts, or don’t have any of your own posts, default banner/pfp etc. Aaand the server is getting a little packed,, so that will encourage me to weed out sussy people even more.

I am the only moderator so--

Freddy doesn’t ever see his friends being worked on in parts and service. Even if he wanted to see them, none of the animatronics are allowed to go into parts and service unless they are the one being worked on.

Although if for some strange reason he did see them, yeah it would spook him a little-

@ayli-just-existing

SOADHIVOASDBVOIN THANKS YOUUUUU

@the-cobbstone What kind of dog is that

@karlz-corner

@lepoppeta (comic in question)

*SCREAMS IN AN AFFECTIONATE TONE*

I haven’t really thought about how the other animatronics fit into the story.. but even once I’ve added them, Chica and Freddy wouldn’t even really know they exist.

Information is greatly limited in the Pizzaplex. None of the animatronics really know about anything outside of the establishment. Or.. inside the establishment really.

But.. if they did hear about the other animatronics.. and all the murders surrounding them? They would be deeply disturbed.

I don’t know if Gregory would have nightmares like that, although there are.. “other things”.. that Gregory would have nightmares about.

XD Bibi is flattered, also yeye! See you then... >:}

Part of me wants to say that Bonnie probably couldn’t do it. Because of his missing limbs and eye, his balance and vision has to be way off. Also with his broken ribs and damaged internal organ part thingies, I don’t think he could even stand up straight long enough to actually bowl.

But part of me wants to say that Bonnie could do it. Bonnie was designed very thoroughly, and I imagine his processors have ways to deal with unbalanced weight and limited vision. Considering Bonnie Bowl was usually dark, his eye sight must be pretty good in the one eye he still has. And with balance and coordination being such an important part of Bonnies programming, I feel like he would just.. deal with the missing limbs and would force himself to find a way to stand steady, and roll the ball.

So I think my answer would be... yes, he could bowl if he tried. But it would probably be more difficult than it used to be, and he would be a lot slower. It would definitely feel more like a chore then a game. <:(

@sammyinred My favorite part about sky would probably have to be the flying aspect. I cant think of any other games that let you soar around, free as can be!

Also Hidden forest has got to be my favorite spot to fly. Hidden forest is just beautiful to me, and being able to fly and weave between trees in the peaceful rain? Its like a very specific dream come true! XD

Also tank you! I’m glad you like what you see! :}

@enderkitty5 Wait, why would one the other right minded animatronics discovering Gregory, warrant Foxy, Bonnie or Freddy to attack them? <:0

I’d imagine they would just be confused as to why a random kid is hiding out in the basement after hours. And if Gregory started freaking out, they would be prompted to try and help Gregory and calm him down, rather than harm him or do something that could scare him more,,

@harmonic-raindrops Aw thanks! I’m glad you like my designs and such,, but unfortunately that would fall into the “uncomfortable feels like stealing bleh” category,, I appreciate that you asked me though. Not everyone does that. <:}

@finn-shavocado I am continuously surprised by the number of people that know Octonauts. XD I thought the show was super obscure!

And also I personally do not headcannon Kwazii to be trans, but the number of people that do is rather surprising :0

@importantghostpsychicpalace Markiplier! :}

@willthemechanist Awe, thanks! I have not drawn Vanessa in any of the official comics. But I have drawn some sketches of her as she is supposed to make a canon appearance later. :0

(Jangles and Bibi are both he/him! :0)

Nah, skeletons are easy enough to draw for me. I just thought having Jangles be a creepy realistic picture cut out would be funnier XD

(Part 1 to the comic in question)

The animatronics did not hear Gregory, and he eventually snuck away when he realized that they were probably all gonna be sitting there and talking for a while.

#my response #fnaf security breach #bibi and jangles

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spoonyglitteraunt · 11 months

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There is a sort of brilliance to the enemies in TotK and BotW as well that I don't know whether it was intentional on the dev's part or just a happy coincidence of world design. But by making their common place enemies into both lower intelligence monsters and constructs means you can actually allow for a lot of dumb AI behaviour. In other games, especially those with say other humans enemies, it's always plainly obvious that enemy AI still tends to err on the sides of dumb as a brick. They often behave in nonsensical ways that real humans would never do. Something that can be both unintentionally hilarious and immersion breaking. Now I'm of the opinion we don't actually want full on human levels intelligent enemies for various reasons, but that's beside the point right now.

The thing is that in this game you have what are clearly either robots with a single purpose of hit it till it goes away. Or monsters who while they have some basic concepts of cooperation and tool usage aren't going to win any intelligence awards. So when any of them start showing the usual enemy AI behaviour of losing track of the player if they duck out of sight, not noticing their friend just got sniped right next to them, or just stop following you once you get out of their coded area, well it feels almost right. Like yes, they are as dumb as a box of rocks, thanks for asking. As I said in my ramblings it’s entirely narrative plausible for them to one moment notice you are there and then forget about you because you hid behind a convenient tree. Out of sight out of mind. Even if you just blew up their companion. Like whelp there went Credence, guess they ate something wrong/didn’t do maintenance so he’s blown up now. Let’s move on.

#the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #game design #enemy design #pulling this bit out of my running commentary because the more I think about it the more I marvel at the brilliance of it #unintentional or otherwise

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 year

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BLEACH: The Thousand Year Blood War Ep 10 Reactions and Thoughts

Overall reactions:

Whelp, I don't know about you, but I was an emotional wreck after watching this one. I was so in awe of after watching Kenpachi and Unohana's fight that I forgot Renji and Ichigo were even a thing in this episode. While there isn't too much tot talk about in this one compared to last week's episode, I still just wanted to rant and rave about how much I loved the highlights and talk a little about Unohana's death.

Highlights:

Kenpachi vs Unohana continues and concludes: I cried, I almost screamed, I fell out of my chair again, and I even choked. WHAT A FIGHT! This is right up there with Yamamoto vs Yhwach for sure! There was stunning moment after stunning moment, JUST LOOK AT SOME OF THESE:

The last one in particular just screams 'HYPE!' I love this change from the manga. Even without context, each moment as a gif or as a clip is incredible to watch. You could freeze on most of these frames, take a screenshot, and chances are it'd make an epic screensaver or background. But the part that takes the cake for me is Unohana's bankai reveal. The moment she said 'Bankai', I choked. The seiyuu absolutely killed it, giving Unohana just right amount of menace as she speaks throughout the reveal. And to finally learn what it does, it's the cherry on the cake for me! I was hoping we would get more filler for the first time Unohana and Kenpachi met, but it was still a great moment, and seeing Kenny emerge from the massive mountain of bodies definitely got em hyped. And even though I knew it was coming, I still gasped and started to tear up when Unohana got impaled and Kenpachi threw his sword away. Just, look at this moment and try to tell me you don't feel anything:

Kenpachi's voice actor also did an amazing job throughout this moment, conveying the regret and grief he feels for killing the one person who brought him the greatest fight of his life. And then hearing Kenny's zanpakuto...AAAAAAH! In fact, this adaption was s effective it made me temporarily forget why I wasn't really a fan of why Unohana got killed off. Even when I go back and reread this fight, as much as I love it and looked forward to seeing it animated when the anime was announced, I still hate that Unohana had to die. Yes I know, if we had two kenpachi-level captains the war would probably be over within hours. Yes, I know removing Unohana, a master healer, raises the stakes for the other Shinigami because now who's going to bring them back from near death? Yes, Kenpachi needed some development to become OP as heck for end and finally get that bankai everyone wanted to see, but did it really need to happen by killing Unohana? I think I feel this way because Unohana is one of my favourite characters, and her character got more layers added to her during this fight, only for it to come to an end just as quickly as these layers were revealed. That's just a personal gripe of mine and has nothing to do with animation staff, who not only knocked this adaption out of the park, they blew it out of the water and into the stratosphere.

Renji and Ichigo - aka the dorkiness continues: more silliness with Renji and Ichigo, this time with Oetsu, who makes them do this famous pose:

I only wish we got to see the whole post rather than a pan down, but this still got a laugh out of me. Actually, considering how serious most of this episode was, the silliness was welcomed to offset some of the sadness. That being said, when Ichigo failed to find his zanpakuto and was sent back to the World of the Living, I couldn't help but feel a little hyped for what's come to.

So if I understand right, next week we're getting two episode back to back? Well, regardless, I am VERY excited for the next episode/s. We're getting Everything but the Rain arc, and we all know what that means!! :D

#yachiru unohana #kenpachi zaraki #ichigo kurosaki #renji abarai #bleach #younger Toshiro next week!!#please tell me there's filler for the flashbacks #bleach episode reactions

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aeondeug · 16 hours

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I solved the washing machine puzzle and found the evil washing machine universe. The game has helpfully told me that I think that the fellatio idol will be important somehow. After escaping this world of incredibly jarring music with like no supplies and an almost dead Marina I battled a rat granny and ran from fucked up dogs and found a weird...flesh umbrella? That floated down towards me after some laughing.

Alas my journey back to relative safety was cut short by walking too close to O'saa because I forgot where he was. He blew me the fuck up. Whelp.

#fear and hunger

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rinwellisathing · 1 month

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You're Awful, I Love You: Part 30

Enver Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Durge

Sentry took the grimoire Gortash had gotten from the diabolist and frowned as he flipped through the pages. “What sort of boring ritual doesn't require blood or organs?” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Alright, so to open this particular portal, the flask of hellfire goes there...” He pointed to a point on the pentagram drawn on the floor.

Gortash tossed the reagent pouch to Fel, who glared indignantly at him before beginning to flawlessly and unquestioningly follow Sentry's instructions for placement. Every detail was lovingly set in a way that was not only accurate to the ritual, but aesthetically pleasing as well. Enver couldn't help but appreciate the loyalty Sentry inspired, though the moment of appreciation was short lived as soon the portal thrummed to life, spinning there in front of them.

The three stepped up to it, looking ahead into the cold wastes of cania. It appeared the portal would deposit them at a small entrance outside the vault, the door visible in the distance. A biting cold blew through the portal's mouth, causing Fel and Enver both to shiver as the later began to change into his cold weather gear. Sentry seemed unbothered, as though he didn't even feel the cold.

Once Gortash had donned his coat, goggles, and gloves, the three ventured through the portal into the howling snow storm. Sentry noticed even in his finest enchanted gear, Gortash still seemed chilled to the bone. He turned and took his hands in his and a warm radiant glow surrounded them.

“It won't fully remove the effects, but it should keep you a bit warmer.” The Tiefling grinned before turning and continuing to trudge through the deep snowbanks towards the iron door.

“You don't seem effected by the cold.” Gortash noted, not bothering to hide the fact that he was somewhat impressed.

“Well,I am made directly by father, that's got to count for something I suppose.” The tiefling shrugged dismissively. “I don't suppose a literal god would have much trouble with a bit of weather.”

“So now you see that my dear, depraved master is every bit your better, you nasty little Banite whelp.” Fel grinned triumphantly, scurrying after Sentry.

“Hey, so this door, I should just break it down, yeah?” Sentry called back, disrupting any response Gortash intended to make to Fel.

“Please, allow me.” Gortash replied, slipping past Fel with a discreet kick behind the diminutive being's knees, causing him to disappear briefly beneath the snow with in indignant yelp. He stood beside Sentry at the door and removed a strange gadget from his bag of holding, attaching it to the locking mechanism and brushing his hand over a glowing violet gem.

The object whirred and spun and with a hollow 'CLICK!' the door creaked open, allowing a blast of stifling hot air to melt the snow just in front of the entrance as a dimly glowing red light emanated from the corridor within.

“Huh. Impressive as always, love.” Sentry nodded in approval, turning to look behind him. “Oi! Fel, you coming or what?”

“At once, young master!” Fel seemed to tunnel his way through the snow and out to the dead ground revealed by the melting at the door's entrance.

The three entered the building. By all Sentry's research and what Gortash remembered from Raphael's ranting at the House of Hope, this had to be Mephistar. The oppressive heat of hell fire, the red glow, the imposing metal walls and floors. Sentry felt another wave of nausea, worse than before, as he entered the fortress. Of course, all of the concentrated energy of the hells in this place would cause his sharply honed paladin senses to react. He heaved and tensed, managing to avoid vomiting, but had to brace himself against the wall.

“This is normal...Trust me, Commander Mum used to talk about it...” Sentry explained. “I'm alright.” He took a deep breath and righted himself, inhaling through his nose and continuing along the corridor.

“If you need to go slowly, I understand.” Enver brushed a hand delicately against Sentry's waist as he passed by him.

Fel almost seemed ready to vomit himself watching his master being fawned over be this unworthy mortal like some simpering damsel. Still, he scuttled along behind the two, keeping pace surprisingly well for someone so small.

After walking for what felt like hours, the three arrived beneath a grate, and looking up they could see a room glowing with gold and treasure. A large shadow passed over the grate every so often, a guardian no doubt, pacing within the vault. Sentry tried to get a good look at its shape, a proper paladin was trained to deal with all sorts of demons and devils and if he knew what he was up against, he could have the creature dead and vivisected before it could raise its weapon, let along an alarm.

As he concentrated, he could see as the creature passed over the grate. Damaged and tattered wings, unlikely of any use for flight. That meant this guard detail was likely a punishment for a failure. It was heavy and it was huge. The wings eliminated the idea of it being an Orthorn, so next Sentry squinted up to see if he could clock the weapon the creature carried. A trident...So probably a Cornugon, a creature not known for quick wit or a capacity to study magic.

If it was a failure who was being punished, there was the slight chance it could be convinced to aid them, but that was a big risk. The other side of that information, however, was it was inside the vault proper, Mephistopheles likely never thought anyone would get in. This broken, already half defeated thing was a last ditch effort. Sentry nodded to himself and and knelt down beside Fel, whispering something into his ear as Fel nodded and grinned wickedly.

“You honor me, dear boy.” The little fiend squeaked as he produced a wicked looking hunting knife and disappeared in a puff of red mist.

A groan of agony was cut off before it really began as the creature's massive body fell across the grate, subsequently dragged away, small waterfall of blood trickling down the grate and over the remaining two infiltrators below. Enver wrinkled his nose, wiping some of the blood from his face before reaching into his bag of holding for another gadget.

“Please, allow me.” Sentry purred gently, running his tongue over his lover's blood splattered skin with a playful little smile. His sensual grin became a look of indignation as he realized the devil's blood was making his stomach turn almost as badly as the auras. “Fuck...” He pouted, resigning himself to gently brushing the blood away with the sleeve of his coat for now.

As the grate popped off, leaving room for the two to climb through, Enver helped Sentry up first, his hand gently grazing the Tiefling's smooth belly as he helped him up, a smile crossing his face. The nausea and sensitivity to these auras Sentry was feeling, he came to the same conclusion Sentry had about the reason for them and he couldn't help but feel a bit of pride at the idea.

Sentry knelt beside the opening and extended a hand, easily pulling Enver up into the vault and the two rose to a standing position, gazing in awe at the treasures around them. Ancient weapons, untold volumes of magic and forgotten history, artifacts and enchantments beyond numbering. Fel had dutifully selected a few of the tomes he believed Sentry would enjoy once he had finished vivisecting and harvesting materials from the massive demon, its head was nearly severed from its shoulders from the brutality of Fel's initial assault.

Enver nudged Sentry's shoulder and pointed, drawing his attention. There, encased in something resembling the ice of the glacier itself, was a delicately crafted crown topped with three glowing gems. The two approached it, taking in the sight for just a moment.

“Raphael would rant and rage about this artifact for days at a time, drunk and furious...I suppose he thought the beatings distracted me from really thinking about it, but in reality it was just the opposite. His words became an escape. I took them in, memorized his ravings, and I thought of just how stupid, how short sighted he was...I thought of what a true Tyrant could do with the crown...and now...now it's within my grasp...OUR grasp...” He reached out, falling just short of touching it, as though considering something. His glove glowed red and he chuckled slightly. “Just as I thought....It's alarmed.”

“Fel, would you?” Sentry clapped his hands together, nodding towards the display. His butler dutifully produced a trap disarming kit and carefully laid it out, expertly selecting the tools he would need and setting to work.

“Well, I suppose it's good he's useful for something.” Enver smirked.

“Hey, Fel may be a bit stuffy sometimes but he's quite helpful.” Sentry elbowed Gortash in the ribs. “Be nice. I know you know how, oh grand diplomat.”

“Alright, but only for you.” Gortash replied, nudging Sentry right back.

Fel rolled his eyes and shook his head as he finished disarming the alarm. He stepped back, allowing Sentry to approach, his hand glowing bright red as the ice around the crown melted away to nothing and his fingers brushed the metal.

“I can feel the power it's got...” Sentry remarked, closing his fingers around it and holding it gently.

“We can examine it later, dear Bhaalist, for now we need to get back to the portal before anyone realizes what's happened.” Gortash placed a hand on Sentry's shoulder, steering him back towards their escape. “We can celebrate when we're back home.”

“Right...yeah...” Sentry nodded, shaking off what almost felt like a trance. “Let's get out of here.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #oc #tiefling #durge #dark urge #writing #fanfic #gortash x durge #durgetash #lord enver gortash #enver gortash

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gazelessmenagerie · 1 year

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A small voice spoke up from behind the brutal barbarian. As if the universe had a strange sense of assuring the brute, and reminding him the consequences of such acts...

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Broly.. why are you attacking the city?"

It was one thing for Goten to be punted or punched... but people Broly never knew? West City? Why? This was where the boy remembered taking him to get ice cream, showing him how different city life could be compared to country life, and showing him how humans held fighting tournaments? Why... what was the reason he was trying to destroy this place?

'Hadn't things gotten better..?'

The voice caused him to freeze, heart almost seizing itself mid beat while the frailty of lungs scarcely brought a delicate sneer to his features. When had that little bastard snuck up on him..?

The wind blew against his face, taking the scent that would've warned him away and with the burst of air masking the sound of feet approaching; he hadn't anything to say for himself. He dared not show his face, the creak of each solitary digit creaked their joints in forming a fist before his arm retreated to prop its elbow to his knee. Still seating over the edge, the smoldering ruin of that single blast stared at him yet the eyes of that little whelp were the ones that burned holes into his back with their insistent questioning. His jaw remained clamped, pride spiking to his defense as the silence dragged on and whatever words were playing droned out from the mouthless speaker of the radio playing its message over and over. He wasn't the cause of the message but the hand that threw that orb still remained clutched into a fist.

His voice growled lowly, lacking much of the usual threat that would've been present had it been anyone else chancing upon him aloft his perch. A slip of his mind and he fell back to his old habits, relishing in that chaos that brought life to his body with the slaughter of thousands. Indulging on that bloodthirsty side felt like a partial release, tempting beyond reason to allow himself that first taste but what can a stupid half-breed understand?

Nothing.

" Leave me. "

#|| Tag: Answered #fruitanddarkness #|| Tag: Gazing over the Abyss of Stars { Broly }#|| Verse: The Future Will Bare It's Fangs #( 🍿👀 oohhh.. the baby makes a return )

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pastelgrungewrecker · 2 years

Text

Harrower, Harrowing || Bad End || Sg

If I’m going down I guess I’ll take you with me

Xaaron smiled- slimy, oily and greasy all at once; a mixture of baptismal water and bile as Perceptor stared- eyes leaking starlight and pulling his mascara down in mourner’s lines over sharp features and jagged edges alike.

“B-B... And- Whirl- RATCHET!”

“Gone, thanks to your foolishness.”, crooned the head of the colony, “Do you see? Do you see what you recieve when you bit the hand that feeds you?”

“You attacked people who had nothing to do with this! Nothing to do with who I am, what I am-”

“You are out of control- And now, I have rectified it.”

Perceptor put his hands against CR chamber glass- knowing the fluid within would never repair the damage. Could never repair the damage he saw. Missing limbs, gutted cavities, blank eyes and slack jaws and blown out pupils raised skyward to show the whites like they cried for a God who had so long since abandoned them.

Perceptor’s claw-like nails screeched gently as his fingers curled and he dropped to his knees with a wail of grief. He sobbed, broken and breaking and through all things in pieces as Xaaron drifted around him like an intrusive thought, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

“You did this- with your wildness. With your mania and your unhinged glee. You brought shame to me and so I have brought ruin to you and it’s only fair. Now- Now you have no one, no one but me.”

Quark stood in the background- throat catching in fear as he saw the twitching under Perceptor’s loose clothing, and his chest aching when he glanced at the near-peaceful face of the dead and floating Brainstorm in a CR chamber.

Something ominous pulled at his brainstem like a vampire seeking entry and he turned his gaze away sharply.

Perceptor sobbed for hours- until long after Xaaron’s amusement faded. He struck the scientist and sent him sprawling and grimaced as he writhed and howled before finally curling tight like the unborn in the womb. A few sharp kicks, another angry strike and he finally huffed.

“Fine. Mourn your losses if you absolutely must. From now on- your obedience is not just expected, but DEMANDED.”

Quark watched as Perceptor fell silent- makeup smeared by tears and saliva from screaming and seeing eye blank and staring at nothing. As Xaaron floated out the door, Quark put a foot to Perceptor’s shoulder and shoved lightly.

No reaction.

A roll of eyes as Quark knelt down, “You really did bring it on yourself. If it wasn’t for your... weird breakdown, NONE of this would have happened. You didn’t just endanger the colony, you stole from ME!”

He reached down, feeling powerful for the first time since he and Perceptor became Inoculated all that time ago; and grabbed a handful of grey streaked inky black hair. He pulled, forcing the sniper’s face up to look at the no longer humming CR chambers.

“Do you see? That MTO? It was MINE. It was MINE and you KNEW IT and you still stole it from me, corrupted it and turned it against me.”

He dropped the sniper, disgusted at the heap he fell into.

“I could have made it great. I could have made it BEAUTIFUL and you made it a lunatic. And for what?”

“He is a man. Not a thing.”, whispered Perceptor, “A beautiful, mad, manic man who drove me spare- but a man nonetheless.”

“It was a mimicry of life- but I could have made it into something PERFECT-”

Quark didn’t have time to scream. The puma’s cry that ripped from Perceptor was loud and glass-shattering. The hands that sealed around Quark’s throat tightened in an iron grip and Perceptor’s now goatlike pupils blew wide as they could in rage as his mouth seemed to start splitting just a little too far to be... mortal.

“HE WAS MORE A MAN THAT YOU WILL EVER BE, WHELP OF MY VEINS, AND YOU WILL DO WELL TO REMEMBER THAT NOW THAT MY SHACKLES ARE SHATTERED.”

Quark’s neck creaked from the strain as he pulled desperately at rigid wrists in an attempt to free himself.

And just like that, Perceptor let him go- getting to shaky feet to press against Ratchet’s chamber and sob softly.

“Oh, my darling- they’ve torn you down and down and I wasn’t... I wasn’t there. I’m sorry, oh I’m sorry; my first love, best love, warmest love...”

Quark watched the sniper begin to sob again- a shaking hand petting over the glass over Ratchet’s deathmask face before he bolted.

Something in the way the sniper’s voice echoed without echoing made him wonder if the side he’d chosen was the right one.

Perceptor moved his room that night- a line of drones like an assembly line as he set up his new quarters around the three chambers holding three quarters of his decomposing heart.

Xaaron watched on the cameras, intrigued but ultimately bored. Why should he care where the maniac resides? Even better that he lives where a camera is on his door directly at all times, made it easier for the paranoid usurping King to keep a close eye on him.

And keep an eye on him he did.

The first day, he slunk into the labs during Perceptor’s shift and the corners of his mouth quirked up into a ghostly smile. Gone was the click-clack of heeled shoes over tile, replaced instead with the near silent shuffling of flat soled shoes- artistic, sure, with their beadwork in deep burgundy and soft rose and wine red over black... but far more suitable, far more clean and... controlled. A small step, to be sure, but a good first.

The fifteenth day he watched the cameras, a pleased hum in his chest as he saw Perceptor whispering out of his still-new quarters draped in darkness. Wide sleeves- out of regulation but... acceptable. The darkened beadwork, the smooth shimmer of satin and linen with hair combed the way he used to. Back then, back before the Wreckers and before death touched him.

Xaaron sat back, smiling at the shuffling mourner on his cameras, pleased at his successful taming of the cruel.

Foolish gilded man, Xaaron.

The thirtieth day, there was something of a setback. Xaaron whirled his way into the labs- taken aback at the way Quark looked dangling from Perceptor’s one handed grip.

“WHAT IS THIS!”, he bellowed, feeling suddenly small as Perceptor dropped his prey and turned with the slow grace of a hunting beast to lock eyes with the leader of the colony.

“I will not stand for this breed of mediocre in my labs, Sir.”, was the deadpan intonation as Perceptor’s arms folded into his sleeves, “If his ego is too weak and overbred to handle being corrected when he is in the wrong, then I will correct him in the next best way.”

Xaaron blinked, unnerved at the strange eyes that stared at him from Perceptor’s scarred face- had his lips been that thin all this time...?

“Explain.”

“Quark seems to have built a habit of beating our graduate interns.”, said Perceptor, voice unchanging, “While I understand his... frustrations- I do not understand why he finds that to be a useful reaction when he was the one to misenter measurements to begin with, and when all the subordinate did was check the numbers and report as they were instructed.”

Xaaron swallowed, not liking how the room dropped into frigidity as Perceptor spoke- until he noticed.

He could see the scientist’s scars.

“I... see.”, said the colony leader, looking to Quark, “...Is this true?”

“I REFUSE to be spoken down to- even if I am WRONG I will be spoken to as NOBILITY-”

“There is no nobility in this colony, Quark. Only ability.”, said Xaaron airily as he stepped closer, “And... Seniority. After all- Perceptor has been a supervisor much longer than you, hasn’t he?”

“I have been, Sir, yes. As well as security and defense head for many years as well.”

“Yes, no doubt where the grey came from, eh?”, laughed Xaaron, reaching out to curl the thick grey-white lock around a metal finger and tug lightly, “Very well. Carry on. Quark, you should expect to be treated as you treat others after all. What goes around comes around.”

“Indeed, Sir.”, said Perceptor, finally blinking and a smile flickering ominously over his features, “Especially when you know who the people around you belong to.”

Xaaron paused, looking to Perceptor and realizing those goat-pupils were fixated on him and so full of rage and grace it nearly overflowed like tears, “...Yes, indeed.”

Perceptor’s smile was wooden, falsified and built of balsa and expired glue as he nodded respectfully and turned his back to Xaaron, “If there is nothing else to explain, or assist with Sir- I will respectfully be returning to work.”

Quark massaged his throat, shooting a glare at Xaaron and hating how the colony head ignored him instead to stare proudly at Perceptor’s back.

“Very well, Perceptor. Excellent work.”

“Thank you.”

Quark watched as Perceptor seemed to float, not walk, away to the other side of the lab- watched the way the students and graduates watched him with a peculiar light in their eyes before their gaze turned back to him and radiated malicious glee.

He jerked to the present when he heard Xaaron walking back towards the door, following like the lackey he knew he was deep down before catching Xaaron’s elbow.

“Sir, what are you DOING!”

“...Returning to my own duties.”

“Is it wise, leaving him with those... subordinates.”, the word came out layered in displeased disgust, “For all we know he could be turning them against us!”

“Quark, people hate you because you are detestable.”, said Xaaron flatly.

Quark paused a moment, swallowing down the sting of that statement before waving a hand to clear the air of it, “My nature aside- He and I share the same infection- he GAVE it to me, after all! If anyone would know what he is up to it’s me. And I am TELLING YOU sir... he’s plotting.”

“Did you not see him, Quark?”, laughed Xaaron as his door slid open to show his expansive office, “He’s dressed like a mourning lover, his face is clear of obnoxious paint... He’s once again become the Perceptor we know and trust and NEED in this place.”

“I’m telling you- something is WRONG. He’s a stubborn bastard at the best of times and this is all a COVER-”

“Quark, please. You are both transparent and pathetic, you do realize that don’t you?”, wheedled Xaaron as they both strode into the room, “I know very well what happened with the mycomutagenic study. I have reams upon reams of lines of lies you’ve told, don’t you understand? There is no way to be secretive on my colony, I know everything.”

Xaaron took his seat at his desk, “You served me well, and I would have truly loved to pass my title on to you one day for it- but you are also a disgusting liar and a coward. I know all about your plans for the MTOs on this colony. I know all about your attempted theft of Perceptor’s work back then and I know well of your attempts to sabotage both him and Brainstorm. Please- your lies exhaust me. I’ve already sacrificed one of my best- let the other of them work, would you?”

Quark’s jaw dropped, his stutter loud as Xaaron rolled his eyes- huffing slightly to blow away some of the black dust on his console, “...Mm, Quark if you’re done embarrassing yourself, muster a few cleaning drones. The seal around my windows is dusting again.”

Another brush of his hand before his fingers flicked in a ‘begone’ gesture. Quark turned on his heel and stomped out- slamming his fist against the call button on the wall to summon a few drones.

Xaaron sighed happily as he settled in his chair, turning to look out said window over his colony as the drone trundled out and activated its vacuum attachment to begin picking up the few traces of dust around the impeccable office.

No one noticed the shadows in the drone cupboard shudder and recede slightly with a slick and slimy sound.

Perceptor smiled, way down in the labs, at the matching writhe under the scar on his chest. The smile faded quickly as he looked up at the tap to his shoulder, at the exhausted intern who smiled weakly and asked if they could have another cup of the dark coffee Perceptor brewed in his side office.

“Of course... precious.”

The days leaked into each other- punctuated only by the strange waves of fevers hitting the labs at the end of each month that oozed by. Finally, Perceptor dug his too-strong fingers into the door and forced it to slide on locked hinges; cracking the delicate electronics and he dragged Quark behind him- clawlike nails embedded in the scientists’s cheek.

He tossed him ahead, letting him sprawl on the floor as Perceptor’s face colored in rosewine rage as he stomped in with a billow of sleeves and a clatter of a new beaded shawl.

“COWARD, BASTARD ON HIGH!”, he barked before glaring at the shocked Xaaron, “THIS IS WHAT YOU GIVE ME TO WORK WITH- THIS FILTH?!”

Quark coughed, sitting up as his shredded cheek twitched like tenderized meat where it hung from the jawbones, “Sir, please, I don’t understand what he’s on about-”

“HE’S BEEN INFECTING MY SUBORDINATES! TRYING TO MAKE THRALLS OF THEM LIKE SOME CHEAP HORROR MOVIE MONSTER!”

Xaaron froze, “...What...?”

“I caught this cretin in my office- fussing around like a cockroach as he so often does.”, seethed Perceptor, his anger like glacierfrost, “I caught him leaking bloodsamples into my teamaker. My one remaining piece of home and he’s been infecting it!”

“Perceptor, please, if it’s yours in YOUR office then how-”

“I’ve been allowing the interns to use it- they continuously come in while ill. He’s been exposing them outside of the lab somehow, and tried to continue the exposure by using MY office and teamaker; no doubt to frame me.”

Perceptor glared down at Quark- the blood smeared scientist looking up to Xaaron and pleading without words for mercy or a chance to plead his case but Xaaron sighed, shaking his head.

“...Take him to the lower cells. I’d hoped that perhaps he’d have left behind his slimier behaviors but... it seems old habits die hard.”

“Sir! After all my loyalty, all my obedience and grace-”

“Useless unless it’s rooted in truth.”

“I WAS PERFECT IN YOUR NAME-”

“And yet you were the weakest link in my labs. Take him.”

Quark tried to scramble to his feet but when broad and reinforced hands closed around his upper arms and wrists and hauled him up he stared in terror as Perceptor watched him back- Xaaron shaking his head with eyes closed as Perceptor’s old manic smile flashed over the sniper’s scarred face.

“SIR NO DON’T TRUST HIM-”

Quark’s voice grew fainter and fainter as he was dragged away- soon fading out of existence.

Xaaron massaged his temples as Perceptor approached and cleared his throat.

“...My apologies for my outburst, Sir.”, he said quietly, “....If you are having a headache, I have some uninoculated tea in a thermos. It’s quite good for migraines.”

“Oh?”

“Yes- an... old friend of mine gave it to me after my... unfortunate circumstances.”

Xaaron watched the casual brush of fingers over the edge of a vibrant facial scar, and nodded resolutely, “Yes, that would be nice actually- Perhaps it will bring my appetite back from wherever it’s gone.”

Perceptor smiled, cold and unreadable as he pulled an off white thermos from the depths of sleeves and shawl and shadow, “Of course sir.”

The mass in the bottom of the thermos flattened itself at the unvoiced whims of its Master, leaking darkness into the plain hot water contained within. Perceptor watched as it poured into the thermos-cap, Xaaron taking it and sipping gently, hissing when his tongue burnt at the temperature.

“Sir, you should blow on steaming drinks to cool them.”

“Yes, yes- this really is quite lovely. Earthy, but sweet.”

“Indeed.”

Xaaron drained the cup-cap with a pleased hum, “...If it isn’t too much trouble, perhaps another little cupful?”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Xaaron brightened at that before settling further, “My Lord.... I do like the ring of that. I am, after all, far more than just a supervisor for this colony nowadays- being the population control, the economy’s focal point, the leader of thousands of loyal Kimians... I rather like that. Lord Xaaron.”

“Quite the glorious title.”

“Mm. Yes, I think I may keep that.”

Perceptor watched with well hidden glee as Xaaron sipped at the ‘tea’ the sniper had given him, and waited patiently.

He thought back to the chambers he dwelled with- now empty of fluid and filled with the writhing masses of mycelium and rootwork needed to create a new kind of womb- a new kind of Rebirth.

“This truly is quite delicious... What kind of tea is it, exactly? The taste is heavenly but... hard to... to place...”

And then Perceptor smiled. Xaaron felt his stomach cramp- one of the few organic things left in him, and retched wetly at the feeling of something wriggling like old roots in the back of his throat.

“It’s...”, whispered Perceptor, laughing gently, “It’s my own special and private blend- cultivated in what’s left of my chest... Do you know what it’s like, precious- feeling your heart torn away and only shreds left behind while a Something rebuilds you alongside your own shaking stitches?”

Xaaron gagged, retching again as Perceptor upturned the thermos and the writhing black mass fell out like a bloodclot- already digging mycelial tendrils into the desk-console components and shorting them out before they suddenly rebooted.

Xaaron watched in horror as the screens dotted around the room, around the COLONY- now glimmered with Perceptor’s smiling face.

A hand, a clawed hand like the Devil himself, caught the colony leader’s chin and forced him to look at the sniper.

“You... DESTROYED everything I ever loved, precious.”, cooed the sniper as thick black and ashy grey leaked in lines from broken tearducts, “But you never realized that that was all that was stopping me from... becoming this.”

Xaaron went to speak- choking wetly as something found his modified vocal chords and began to corrode them far too fast.

“I will not be so foolish.”, said Perceptor, his voice shaking in sudden rage as his grip tightened, “I admit- my first thrall was stupid. Foolish. You were right not to trust him, to use him- to give him back to me like a good little boy.”

Xaaron whimpered, trying to move his limbs when sudden critical errors blasted through his nanotech enhanced brain.

“But now.... Now, foolish boy, silly weak king... I have chosen better.”

The thud against Xaaron’s door was loud- ominous. It grew in sound until the door groaned and bent and sheared in half as steel can only handle so much and Perceptor turned Xaaron’s head to show the graduates and interns and security and detail crews that had reported fevers and chills and rashes.

“Do you see them, Xaaron?”, whispered Perceptor with a smile, “Do you want to see what I can do, what you never saw me manage in the dark? Come along, precious, come along with me and I will show you.”

And Perceptor was dragging Xaaron’s unresponsive body like luggage- soon to join with Quark still being carried by the security that had fetched him but that now showed visible signs of infection and conquering.

Xaaron knew the halls and lines of his colony by heart- it took him only moments to realize they were being dragged back down to the room it all started in- the chamber storage room, the new quarters of Perceptor; the end of the line.

“You stole years and years from me, old man.” hissed Perceptor as they drew closer to a door that opened of its own accord, “You bought and sold me like cheap replacement parts and now... Now I’m going to return the favor.”

Xaaron whimpered again, hating the weak gurgle he heard in answer from Quark’s slowly overcome figure next to him- eyes bulging and rolling and bloodvessels bursting under the skin like fireworks as Perceptor’s touch left the gilded colony head for him to stand before the trio of now darkened CR chambers- spreading his arms wide and showing the now gnarled claws that seemed to overtake far more than a nailbed; far more than even the first knuckle. The entire tip of the sniper’s fingers were coated in some kind of hard carapace, like a spider’s legs.

“You liked the sound of Lord, Xaaron.”, murmured Perceptor- reaching out to the mycelium that coated the wall and floors and the sides of the tanks that hummed eerily and plucking a tendril-like sprig to tuck into dark hair and letting it spread.

He turned, eyes ghostly bright in the sockets and the thick dark fungal sludge leaking from tear ducts like the running kohl from the tear-drenched past.

“Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds...”

The words rang eerily as Perceptor’s face lost its smile and his arms once again spread.

“Give yourself to the inevitable, little ones- Obey me.”

Xaaron stared in outright terror, watching the sprig Perceptor had plucked wind through the snipers hair like a coronet before beginning to reach and solidify into a jagged crownlike appendage- watching the thornlike roughness dig into the sniper’s forehead and add to the leaking sludge like oil and angel’s irridescence during the fall.

The surge was wet- damp like half-dry saliva stains from terminal patients and the sweat on the brow of blood soaked convicts- as Kimians surged into the room to plunge hands and feet and even faces and heads into the piles of mycelia and causing the masses to surge and gurgle and throb.

Perceptor stood, his arms pulling in as one hand holding up two fingers close together.

“Rest assured, you two- I will never bury you in the Womb like the rest of this colony- no.”, said Perceptor gently, smoothly, almost fond and loving as his crowned head tilted, “No... I will keep you alive- bound in my roots and like a living placenta for the future. You will never die, not unless I say it’s time, not until I am SATISFIED with your suffering and with regards to that- oh, I’ve such sights to show you.”

A bitter, vicious laugh as the first wave crowd thinned considerably, and Xaaron swallowed and immediately retched again- feeling fungal roots tumble from his mouth and leading down, down into his stomach and realized, truly, what Perceptor had done.

He slowly looked up, and with a weak gurgled mumble, managed a single word.

“M-Mercy!”

“Oh, precious. You know what they say- No mercy from Percy.”

The CR chambers crackled.

Quark managed a syrupy sob of fear as the first CR chamber shattered apart and it’s mycelial womb wall tore apart to show Brainstorm’s old sneer. The growl rumbled from behind his chest before he looked at Perceptor... and then stepped forward to stand still.

The second chamber broke open, and Xaaron’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as Whirl’s reanimated remnant stepped free with a razorblade smile-

But it was Ratchet’s that made bile rise and scorch his throat and nose.

Claws and fangs and steam as the mycelium shriveled away and the resurrected man stretched tall. All of them- wounds filled in and patched with silver-grey-black fungal webbing, all of them standing at attention.

And then Ratchet’s new voice wetly rumbled out, “...Doooooll.”

Perceptor smiled the smile of the deranged- reaching his free hand out to gently pet Ratchet’s cheek.

“...I think I’ll call them Apprentices.”, he whispered, before looking to Xaaron, “Apprentices, to me- The Grand Maestro. And you, dear Xaaron, dear Quark- you will feed my Firstborn.”

A splatting noise, and Quark coughed his finally free mouth though slime still smeared his lips and cheeks, “Are- Are they ALIVE?!”

“To a degree.”, whispered Perceptor, “They are alive enough. They know me, they love me above all things and on my word...”

He pointed with the hand still holding up two fingers, “They will TEAR YOU APART!”

Ratchet’s Remnant roared, eyes bright white and milky as cataracts before he charged forward- and Xaaron’s world went dark. He shrieked in pain, feeling claws punching through soft eyes and reinforced skull to stab straight though the back of his head- and his limbs wouldn’t react enough for him to try and pull free.

He heard Quark scream, but the scream cut off wetly and there was the sound of meat peeling from bone and then silence.

Perceptor watched with a quivering mouth- mourning his losses over and over and over again even as his new Apprentices looked to him with adoration they never really had in life.

This will have to be enough.

“I did not love you the way you needed in life.”, he whispered as Ratchet’s Remnant dragged the still twitching and alive Xaaron and Quark to a mycelial mound to bury them deep as a living food source, “And as punishment, you will love me the way I do not deserve in death.”

He leaned back- the fungal rootwork pushing and molding into a morbid throne of rot and decay to catch him as he hugged his knee to his chest.

“...As above, so below.”, he murmured, letting decomposed tears leak down dark lines over his face as Brainstorm’s remnant pressed a kiss to a scarred cheek- lips like autumn leaves and the smell of age all around like a miasma.

Perceptor stared forward, letting his resolve harden alongside the toxic tear traces, “Let us begin, then.”

The chorus of screams as Kimia went dark- in space and upon radar, would be heard for lightyears... Until the final Apprentice was birthed....

And, long after the first three, Perceptor would gaze fondly upon the Final Remnants years down the line.

“Quark... Xaaron.... Perhaps now. Perhaps now I can love you.”

They blinked glazed and milky eyes before their faces settle into pathetic adoration- and they kiss carapace-hardened fingertips with the hopes those hands will cup their cheeks in tenderness.

#pastelwrites #bad end #shattered glass #tw gore #tw decomp #tw just ooey gooey #hellraiser but with fungus

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thebadgerclan · 2 years

Text

Hunt

Pairing: Matthias Helvar x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: You are invited to the royal hunt...

A/N: Requests are open! I’m now writing for Bridgerton, so if you have any reqs., send them in!

Other than Her Majesty, Queen Agathe, few women were ever in attendance for the royal hunt. However, Commander Brum’s invitation had been extended to both you and your husband, so naturally, you would be there. “They know how insufferable you’ll be without me there,” you teased, and Matthias laughed. “I do believe you are correct, dear.” Your marriage was still very new, only two months ago you were wed, and you were very much still in the honeymoon phase.

So on the day of the hunt, you dressed in your warmest skirts and furs and departed, riding sidesaddle alongside your husband. The encampment on the edge of the forest consisted of several tents, all of which contained braziers, barrels of ale and wine, food, and materials to make tokens for the hunters. Matthias kept you on his arm as he entered the main tent, unwilling to let you out of his sight. The King’s men could get quite rowdy when inebriated, and he didn’t want you to come to any harm.

“The Royal Whelp is nowhere to be found,” came Commander Brum’s voice, which startled you. “So he is not,” Matthias said, nodding in greeting. “I daresay the cold might kill him outright.” “Darling, you should not be so cruel,” you gently chided. “Poor Rasmus is ill, he cannot help it.” Matthias gave you a fond smile, but Brum scoffed. “Women and their delicate compositions. Will you be taking up a rifle today, Helvar? I hear there are fox in the wood today.”

Commander Brum loved his jabs at the Ravkan King, and you bit back a sarcastic reply. “I shall not, Commander. I would hate to leave dear Y/N all alone in the cold.” Your heart fluttered at your husband’s words, but the commander scoffed again. “Oh, I’m sure there are plenty of men here who would gladly keep her warm.” Brum waggled her brows at you, and you shirked to stand closer to Matthias.

He noticed, and placed a protective arm around your shoulders. “I suggest you watch your words, Commander. You may be my superior officer, but Fjerdan law dictates that I may defend the honor of my wife in combat, should the need arise. Will that need arise?” It was moments like these that reinforced your belief that Matthias should lead the drüskelle, but that was not an opinion that you shared openly.

“No,” Brum answered. “It will not. Apologies.” The Commander sketched a shallow bow to you, and when the King called for his men to take up arms and join him, he skittered away. “A coward, that one,” you heard someone say, and Matthias nodded. “Poor Ylva,” another said. “Come, my love,” Matthias said, getting your attention. “Let us spectate.” You happily followed your husband out of the tent and to the area just before the woods, where other nobles were gathered to watch the hunt.

Matthias kept you close to him, perhaps closer than was strictly proper, but he simply didn’t care. You relished in his proximity and found yourself leaning into him, both because Matthias radiated heat, and you simply wanted to. Occasionally, your husband would press his lips to your temple or forehead or point out something in the woods. “Foxes are easy to hunt at this time of year,” he told you. “Their bright coats give them away.”

“But what of the northern foxes?” you countered. “Do their coats not turn white in the winter?” Matthias nodded, a smile on his face. “They do indeed. But there are other breeds here as well.” Your intuition was one of the many reasons Matthias fell in love with you and chose you as his bride. Dozens of young ladies had been vying for his hand–a young, handsome, newly initiated drüskelle–during Heartwood, but Matthias had been smitten with you from the very beginning.

A sharp gust of wind blew, and you shivered, the air cutting right through your skirts and furs. Your husband looked at you, slight concern on his face. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked, and you nodded. “I am. Just a bit cold.” Matthias lifted his arm from your shoulder, which made you frown, but came to stand behind you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around you, crossing over your chest.

“Better?” You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Much better,” you replied, and your husband kissed your cheek. You kept your eyes on the hunting party until they disappeared into the trees, though their calls carried back to the camp. As there was nothing left to see, you turned in Matthias’ arms so you were facing him, and his eyes lit up. There was nothing he loved more than gazing at the perfection that was his wife, and here you were giving him a perfect opportunity to do so.

“You are so very beautiful,” Matthias said, bringing one hand to cup your cheek. Your hair was down, as was traditional for married women, your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your husband rested his forehead against yours, his nose bumping against yours, the cold sensation making you gasp. “My beautiful bride, I shall always love you.” “Matthias,” you said, letting your eyes slip closed. “I love you too.” For a moment, there was no hunt, there was no one else watching; it was just you and Matthias.

#matthias helvar x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #matthias helvar x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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five-rivers · 4 years

Note

imagine if at a christmas truce party the ghosts discover that danny has a second obsession of space

Wrote a fic~ *does a little dance*

"Here's your invitation to the truce party," said Skulker, dropping the letter by Danny's head, "and here's the duty list. Pick something." He shoved a piece of paper into Danny's face.

"You know," said Danny, testing the rope Skulker had tied him with, "you get a lot better at chasing me when you're doing it for non-murder purposes."

Skulker scowled, but Danny knew better than to take his apparent facial expression as a sign of his true emotions. After all, the face Danny could see wasn't really Skulker's. It was a mask. One the tiny green jellybean inside could manipulate as he pleased.

"What do you mean, 'duty list,' anyway?" Danny blew the paper off his nose.

"It's a list. Of duties. For people who want to attend the party. You can't possibly imagine that one ghost does it all on their own, do you?"

"I don't know. Some living people are really into the holidays. Wouldn't surprise me if there was someone over in the GZ Obsessing."

"There are," said Skulker flatly. "But going to those parties is risky."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense. So, is this, like, a potluck deal, or white elephant, or do I have to come set up, or what?"

"Read the list, whelp!"

"I would," said Danny, "if you held it far enough away for me to see what was written on it. "My eyes don't focus that close."

Grumbling, Skulker adjusted his position.

A lot of the things on the list were already checked off. The rest looked dangerous (fighting the Krampus), time consuming (holly acquisition, with a stupidly high number of branches listed next to it), expensive (providing new holiday table settings), confusing (Danny didn't know what a 'consoda' was, or why he would fetch offerings from it), or simply extraordinarily unappealing (after party cleanup). Except for one.

One that caught Danny's eye because of a very specific word that was included.

"Why's the star all by itself?" asked Danny.

"Because the star is important," said Skulker. "Adding the star to the tree is what starts off the real celebration. A star needs to be impressive. Dramatic! Not one of those little dinky tinsel things you can find at human stores."

Part of Danny knew he shouldn't- But when had he ever listened to that part of himself?

Actually, that wasn't really fair. He listened, otherwise he'd be fully dead instead of just half.

Still.

(The idea of making a star made his skin feel sparkly and fuzzy, like his whole body was half an inch from the surface of freshly poured soda, but all over.)

"I'll take it," he said.

"Humf," said Skulker. "Don't screw up, or you'll be in for a beating as soon as the truce is over." He made a mark by the name and started to fly off.

"Hey! Aren't you going to untie me?"

"Nah."

"He's late," said Desiree, sharply, glaring at Skulker as if he had any control over what the whelp did or did not do.

She wasn't the only one.

"He's not late yet," defended Skulker.

"You shouldn't have given him the star as a choice," complained Technus, his voice squaking like a poorly connected computer speaker. "You should have just told him what he'd have to do. Something that wouldn't ruin the party. He's a teenager! Teenagers are easily distracted."

"I didn't know you were a teen, techie," drawled Spectra, who really shouldn't have been at the party at all, seeing as she wasn't, and never had been, invited. Skulker was hoping someone would find a way to throw her and her little minion out before midnight.

"It's TECHNUS, MASTER OF TECHNOLOGY, CONTROLLER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC AND BEEPING."

"I am sure Sir Phantom is on his way," said Princess Dora, softly, ignoring Technus's continuing rant with the ease of long practice. She would not be here the whole evening. Her kingdom had its own, separate celebrations, but they wouldn't start for well over half a human day. "He is a very responsible person, and he was speaking to me about stars just earlier this month." She frowned, slightly, swirling the darkly luminous wine in her glass. "That is, I think he was talking about stars. The conversation was somewhat difficult for me to follow."

"Oh, no," said Desiree, putting one hand delicately over a smile.

"What?" growled Skulker.

"It always bothered me a little, you see, but I hadn't realized quite why until just now." She was barely even trying to hide her delight. "The second time I fought him, it was during a meteor shower."

"So?" asked Amorpho.

"He was rather cross with me during the fight. At the time, I thought it was because he was missing that girl's party, or because of the whole memory wiping thing, but in retrospect..."

"Just spit it out already," said Skulker.

"I do believe you gave the task of making the tree star to a ghost Obsessed with outer space."

Inside the suit, Skulker's true hands slip off his controls for just a moment. "Oh, Ancients," he groaned.

"We're not getting a star this year, are we?" asked Ember.

Phantom chose that moment to barrel through the door. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, looking and sounding more like a little kid than Skulker had ever witnessed. "Am I late? No, I'm not. Never mind. I'm not sorry. What do you think?"

He held out the... thing in his hands for the assembled ghosts to view. It was... It was definitely a star. A round blue star. Complete with solar flares and sunspots. Animated flares and sunspots.

"How the hell?" whispered Walker in the background, despite the fact that he and his pink prison really had no room to talk.

"Is it no good?" asked Phantom, managing to shift his weight even though he was floating. "I turned the brightness way down so that everyone could see the details, but I think I could turn it back up again without too much trouble." He blinked up at the other ghosts, and Skulker noticed with some unease that his pupils were currently shaped like crescent moons. "I mean, the other one exploded, but I think I've got it, now."

All of the ghosts slid back, just slightly. Not that they were afraid of explosions, but, well, being cautious didn't hurt.

"Er," said Dora, "what is it, exactly?"

"A star! A blue giant, specifically. Well, a model of one, anyway, but I think it's a good model. I mean, it's a blue giant right now. I've got it set up so that it'll go through the whole life cycle of a massive star. Or, not the whole life cycle, because that would include the nebula, but the life cycle from this point? It'll change color and expand as the night goes on and it uses up its 'hydrogen'- I've scaled the expansion, though, don't worry, it won't take over- and then the core will collapse and the outer layers will be ejected, and- BOOM!- supernova!"

"Ghost child," said Technus, in a more strangled than usual voice, "are you telling us that's a bomb?"

"No, it's a star," said Phantom, blankly. On closer inspection, the crescents in his eyes were not the only modification to Phantom's appearance. He had pale green and silver stars scattered liberally across his nose and cheeks, and similar shapes in the black of his costume.

In the background, Desiree was dying of laughter.

"Don't you think a supernova might be... dangerous?"

"Oh, a real one, sure. But I tested one before I brought this, and all it did to me was singe my eyebrows off, and I was standing really close."

"Whelp," said Skulker, searching for some reason to reject Phantom's 'contribution,' "how is that even supposed to stay on the tree? It's just a ball."

"Oh, it'll float wherever I tell it to, don't worry, I've tested it!"

It perhaps said something about ghostly parties that the sudden detonation of the tree topper several hours later, the subsequent glee of the supposed superhero in attendance when the room was filled with star-shaped glitter and confetti, and the attempted homicide on the part of several glitter-unfriendly ghosts was not the most exciting series of events to occur that night.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #fic

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daydreamed-snippets · 3 years

Text

TW: Graves. Claustrophobia. Panic Attacks

The first thing the hero was aware of was the sound of their own breathing.

Measured, shallow, slowly inhaling, and exhaling in the quiet. They breathed in, noting that they were on their stomach and that their ribs expanded unencumbered. Good. That meant there weren’t any ropes securing their arms to their body. That was a small victory in itself.

Still, sound was of little consequence to the hero if they couldn’t see anything. Their power depended on sight, on the ability to stare down a target, and the dilation of irises to push illusions into the target’s mind. With no light and no line of sight, the hero was effectively powerless. Left with a handful of acrobatic tricks, and the uncanny ability to run like hell when things got too hairy.

Use what you got.

They could almost hear their cousin’s voice in their head, berating them with that parental tone they carry. You call yourself a hero, for godssake, you can’t always rely on your powers. Improvise.

So the hero curled their fingers against the floor, fingernails scraping across the wood. Ok, maybe they were in a closet, or a crate, or box of some kind. The air was stale, unmoving, and humid. The darkness was oppressive not even the faintest sliver of light to be seen. Defiantly more of a crate than a closet, or else, they surmised, they would be able to see the seam of the door. And the air would be cleaner.

They guessed the supervillain didn’t think them a threat in total darkness, powerless and dazed. Not when the hero was stupid enough to underestimate them as they did. Sneaking into their compound, the hero assumed the element of surprise was on their side. All they had to do was find the server room, and plug in a drive that carried a virus strong enough to crash the supervillain’s whole system. Wiping out the computer’s memory completely. Just slip in and out without anyone knowing. Even if they were caught, they had reasoned arrogantly, all they needed to do was ensnare the supervillain’s gaze, trapping them in a hellish landscape.

They couldn’t realize it then but it was a stupid and reckless idea. They didn’t account for the level of security they encountered in the compound, nor how quickly and how many henchmen showed up when the alarm was tripped. They certainly hadn’t planned much of an exit strategy. The hero just saw red when it came to the supervillain. And when they became surrounded they knew it was impossible to hold everyone’s gaze. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

So the supervillain threw them in a box to rot… or to torture later.

They tried not to let that crowd their mind as they moved on to other observations, letting out a long, sharp breath through their teeth, frustration evident. But they couldn’t shake the thought that this showed just how green they were to the field of heroics. Only a novice when you looked at the big picture, what an idiotic kid caught up in the…

That trail of thought stopped when they felt their breath blow back on their face like they were mere inches from something. Air caught in their throat. Suddenly they were keenly aware of a consistent rising and falling beneath them that they didn’t notice before. Something solid and soft and nice. They were on someone; their face planted in the crook of a neck.

The person moved and the pleasantness of warm skin brushed against their nose.

“Try not to move too much,” the person said, strong fingers tracing up their side in a tantalizing touch.

A transient moment washed over the hero. Their body going instantly ridged like a deer caught in headlights. Flattening their palms on what they imagined was either side of the person’s head, the hero shot upwards rising several inches before they butted their head against a wooden ceiling.

“What the hell?!”

“I did say try not to move too much,” the voice came again, the inflection rich, vibrant, and horrifyingly familiar. “Steady your breathing. In my estimation, we don’t have much oxygen left.”

No.

Gods no.

They remembered that voice all too well. It often called to them in the catacombs of the city’s slums, laughing when they stumbled over their own budding abilities. Teased when the hero was forced to retreat. Mocked them for shivering under the villain’s frigid powers, like a little whelp left out in the cold, they would say.

The villain had said a lot of things to them amid battle in a voice as slick and as icy as their capabilities.

“Wh-what is this? What’s going on?” Arms shaking, the hero forced themselves to perform an awkward plank, elbows bent, rising on their toes so that their body wasn’t touching the villain.

“Isn’t it obvious?” came the courtly reply, and the hero could imagine a sardonic smile play across the villain’s lips. “We’ve been buried alive together.”

Blood drained from their face at those words. No wonder the air felt stagnant and hot. No wonder their breath was shallow, quickly becoming labored. It felt like a weight slammed into their heart and their stomach flopped, threatening to overturn.

“No. No,” they gasped, unable to catch their breath. “H-how do you know?”

“You’re a heavy sleeper, do you know that?” The villain asked it like it was the most curious thing at the moment. “I woke up shortly after they lowered this makeshift coffin into the ground. I could hear them toss dirt onto it. Luckily this wood is flimsy enough. I managed to put a small hole in the lid with my shoe before you roused.”

Oh.

They just bumped their head on the lid of the coffin they were buried in.

The villain’s words soaked into their soul, stirring up an unknown and until now dormant phobia. They were buried alive with the villain with no way out, and only minutes of oxygen left. Seconds even. They could feel the CO2 building up, stifling their lungs. Walls pressing in on them. This coffin wasn’t meant for two people, it wasn’t big enough, there wasn’t enough room.

It can’t end like this.

The hero had only taken the Covenant’s oath months ago. They weren’t really supposed to be an official hero yet. Their request to be recognized as one was a desperate attempt to stop the supervillain’s rampant crime spree in a part of the city the Commissioner didn’t give a shit about. Their training had been pushed off, their commencement a letter in the mail. They hadn’t even stepped foot on the top level of the city yet.

They need to get out.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t—” they rasped, choking.

“I did not say that to make you panic, little gorgon,” the villain said, taunting and saccharine and smooth. Why so smooth? They were going to die here too, didn’t they see that? “Pattern your breathing. You will use up more oxygen if you panic.”

How could the villain be so damn calm? Both of them were in over their heads. Literally. This was it. The hero would die here, in the arms of their enemy no less.

They couldn’t get a breath.

“What are you doing?” the villain asked, perceiving the hero’s rising panic as they dropped their head, forehead pressed against the villain’s chest.

“I can’t, I can’t breathe! It’s too—I can’t—”

“Yes you can, settle your nerves. You’re hyperventilating and that will use up all of our oxygen before we have a chance to think. Listen to the sound of my voice. Breathe when I do.”

No, they couldn’t. It was too hot. They were sweating. Burning up. They were in the pit of hell and there was no possible way they could force air into their lungs. They were going to vomit and suffocate, their descent into death was going to be painful.

Their hands flew to their collar, pulling frantically at the material that hung around their neck. It was constricting. Tightening like a snake. Moving to strangle them. The hero’s elbows dug into the villain’s sides, earning a swift groan.

“You need to listen to me,” the villain said, but they didn’t. They couldn’t. They needed to get some air, they needed to get their shirt off. They were going to die if they didn’t. They clawed at the fabric, ripping it. It was too hot. It was—

“I’m going to touch you now.”

Deliciously cold hands skimmed over the base of their neck, pushing back their shirt so skin met skin. A gentle grip pulled the hero’s head up, exposing their throat, sending the hero’s hand skittering away tasked again with the job of holding themselves up. The villain blew out a brisk wind, and the temperature cooled in the coffin considerably. The hero no longer wanted to scratch at their uniform.

“Lay your hand flat against my chest,” the villain commanded. “Put your weight on me.”

“What? No…”

“Just do it,” their voice held a different kind of ice to it. The mocking tone is gone. “Trust me for once. Our lives depend on it.”

The hero complied.

“Marvelous,” the villain murmured. “Now, inhale when you feel my chest rise. Exhale when I do.”

Beneath their palm, the hero could feel the quickened beats of the villain’s heart, contrary to their serene words. They were anxious too, but the villain still kept their breath steady. Their heartbeat being the only tell that anything was amiss. For some reason that made the hero feel better, and they relaxed a bit.

“Hearken to my voice. Breathe in through your nose, fill your lungs until you can’t inhale anymore. Hold it as I do,” the villain said, demonstrating. “Then let it out through parted lips.”

The hero acquiesced.

When the villain took a deep breath, the hero mimicked it. When the villain exhaled, the hero did the same. They attuned themselves to the villain, resonated with them. Pushing everything out of their mind except for their placement on the body beneath them. The villain might as well have been a beacon of light in the darkness of that coffin. It blinded the hero as if they could see, brows furrowing at the villain’s nearness, eyes tightly shut. Obeying their voice, focusing on them until there was nothing outside of that sole moment. They became too aware. The villain couldn’t move a muscle without the hero being painfully attentive to how broad their shoulders were, how their ribs flared out, and how their waist tapered to narrow hips. They smelled like sweat and dirt, and some strong earthy soap. Intoxicating.

Slowly, they guided the hero’s head back to their neck. The two resting comfortably as they did before. “You’re doing lovely. That’s right. Nice even breaths,” they praised, hands leaving the hero’s neck to stroke long fingers through their hair, driving shivers down their spine with a gentle touch. “Can you talk now?”

The hero’s heart ricocheted. They fought once again to get it under control. They hesitantly said, “yes.”

“What were you doing in the supervillain’s compound?”

“How did you?” the hero swallowed, breathing quickening. A cool hand was at the nape of their neck again, calming them. “How did you know I was there?”

They felt them smile against their forehead. “I had my suspicions, unconfirmed as they were, but the way your breathing has changed just now is telling me everything I need to know. Maybe we should do this more often. Cuddle, I mean. I may just uncover all of your secrets this way.”

The hero was silent. They didn’t trust any reply they gave not to have a squeak in it.

“It was a joke,” the villain said, ambivalent, conveying anything but. “You’ll have to admit this brings new meaning to ‘lying with the enemy’.”

They licked their lips, voice horse. “It’s sleeping,” the hero said in a whisper earning a questioning hum from the villain. “It’s sleeping with the enemy.”

“Now there’s a thought.”

Hating the blush that crept up to their neck, the hero decided it was wise to go back to the question at hand. “I, uh, broke into the supervillain’s compound. I tried to upload a virus to their computer. It didn’t work. I was caught. I ended up here.” Duh, the last part was a no-brainer. Their mind stumbled on. “How, umm, why did the supervillain put you in here? I thought you worked together.”

“We did, but we disagreed on certain matters,” they said in a careful voice. This was the first time the hero was aware of it. They shift their head, wanting more. Obligingly, the villain continued. “I assume you found out that the supervillain has been experimenting on the people in the slums as I did. That part of the compound was hidden away from me. I had no idea how many bodies the supervillain had piled up back there. My discovery angered them, and I can only assume their best revenge was to bury me in here with you.” The villain shifted, getting comfortable. “Perchance they thought we’d kill each other in here. It would have been an effective torture.”

“Why didn’t you kill me? You said that you were awake before me. Why not strangle me in my sleep?”

“I needed you alive, little gorgon, not even I can escape this tomb alone.” The villain’s hands came back, stroking as they went. “And I wanted you to trust me. I know our past is...complex, but it doesn’t have to be like that. We can start anew if you want to do that.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I imagine you want to live, no?” The light teasing in their voice was back. “Well then, we must move now.” The petting stopped, and the hero missed it, much to their chagrin. They shouldn’t get used to this. The villain was still the villain after all. Even though they did help them calm down, diverting a catastrophe.

The hero could feel the villain tense beneath them as they reached up towards the coffin’s lid and pushed. “We are going to punch and kick our way through the top of the coffin. As I said, I couldn’t do much on my own with your body weighing me down, but if you work with me, we may be able to break the lid.”

“How?”

“You’ll turn around in a moment, and push your legs upward when I kick. We’ll both lift the lid once it starts separating from the rest of the coffin. That’s step two. Once the top of the coffin breaks, the soil will start pouring in. We will need to push the dirt down to our feet. More will pour in and we will do the same with it until this coffin is full and you can sit up. Since it’s a newly filled grave, the dirt hasn’t had time to settle and harden. It will be strenuous, hero, but feasible.”

The villain paused. “I am going to unzip your outfit,” they said after a moment. Chilly gradually brushed down towards their chest fumbling with the location of the hero’s zipper. “Lift up for me.” The hero found that they obeyed almost immediately. They stopped themselves midway.

“Why?”

“This is step one. We will need to cover our faces with our clothing so we don’t suffocate while attempting to rise from this grave,” the villain explained, calmly, like it was a simple thing. Except the hero was wearing a jumpsuit. An onesie. Not Covenant issued, but something similar. Their cousin and some neighbors pulled their money together and had gotten the hero an upgrade when they had received the commencement letter. They were ecstatic at the time. Now they regretted it. Nevertheless, the villain’s fingers made deft work, drawing the uniform from the hero’s shoulders and shimming the one-piece down their legs, allowing the hero to kick out of it.

“Now do the same to me.”

Luckily the villain wore a simple jacket, with a side zipper and a light shirt underneath. The hero didn’t have to fumble much in the dark, though they did have to scoot down, back scrapping against the top as their chin rested on the villain’s stomach just to get the jacket off. With how cold the villain's hands were, it was a wonder they weren’t making comments about how hot the hero’s face was. The hero was sure they were entirely red by now.

Pushing that out of their mind the hero grabbed their abandoned uniform and placed it in the hands of the villain who wrapped it around the hero's face. The hero did the same with the jacket to the villain.

“You’re going to turn, and on the count of three we are going to kick,” the villain said loudly, voice muffled. The hero turned and braced their legs against the lid. Counting in their ear, the villain brought their legs up against the lid. Again and again and again until the wood split, and dirt tumbled in. The hero worked to push most of it down. They punched the lid, channeling their anxiety and their anger into their fists, hands breaking on the wood, blood flowing from cracked knuckles. Hands on their back pushed them, and the hero wrestled to sit up, fighting against the weight of the dirt. Fighting to cheat death. The claustrophobia was almost too much to bear, any moment feeling like they would succumb again.

They broke the surface.

Clawing at the ground they lifted themselves out with the last of their strength, ripping their uniform from their face, collapsing on the ground mere feet from the grave. The villain followed soon after, comparable to a zombie from a crypt. For a long while neither budged, breathing deeply, staring at the morning sky.

But soon somebody did move. They were always the first to move. This time, crawling over to the hero, wildly panting. The villain was covered in dirt, hair mused and blood dripping from cuts on their legs—but their eyes. Those eyes were iced, intense, dissecting the hero’s alive.

With a fright, the hero realized that their mask was removed when they yanked off their uniform. They were exposed, identity laid bare, and in nothing but their undergarments no less. They turned their head, hiding their face in shadows cast by the dawn.

Tsking, the villain’s cold hand shot out, seizing their chin, maneuvering their head the way they please so that their face was turned towards dayspring. “None of that. Not when we’ve been so intimately acquainted,” they said, a honeyed inflection. “Now I get to see the face behind the mask.” They smiled, admiring how the hero’s eyes widened in fright. “I didn’t expect you to be so fetching for a vagrant playing the hero. You always did run away whenever our battles went poorly for you. I’ve never gotten a glimpse before.”

Drawing themselves up to their knees, the villain loomed over them, bringing both hands to cup their face. Something in their eyes gave the hero chills, all instances of compassion and kindness gone. Replaced by a sick kind of affection.

Improvise!

Defiantly, the hero raised their chin, staring bolding at the villain’s eyes, willing their powers to trap the bastard in a nightmare. To keep them from doing whatever it was that swept through their villainous mind.

But nothing happened. They were too weak to call upon their power. Shaking, exhausted, both hands laid useless at their side, crippled. The pain of their knuckles screamed at them, needing attention, needing an outlet. The hero mewled feebly, a single tear streaking down their cheek as the villain’s hand wrapping around the hero’s nose and mouth. They clamped down cutting off the hero’s air supply.

“While I would love to say it’s nothing personal,” the villain said quelling the hero’s jolts and jerks as the latter’s eyes drifted closed after a violent struggle, body going lax in their hands. “That wouldn’t be the least bit true, would it?”

Scooping the hero in a bridal style, mindful of their broken hands, the villain looked towards the skyline, chuckling. “I’ve had my eye on you since you started sniffing around into our little operation, gorgon. Though the method could have been different, it was nice of the supervillain to drop you in my lap so to speak. And I’m not one to waste this golden opportunity to take you to my lab and slice you up bit by bit. I will make sure to take detailed notes. I’ve never experimented on a hero before.”

#this is wayyyy too long #im sorry #Relictus City #hero #villain #supervillain #hero x villain #villain x hero #Heroes of Covenant #buried alive #my writing #snippet #more like a #short story #writblr #I misspelled henchmen as hunchmen and now I can’t

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

Affliction

A Lego Monkie Kid one shot [yes, I can do those] wherein while travelling with the Monkie Crew during their season 3 journey Red Son’s affliction flairs up and he has to deal with it…with a little help from Tang.

Warning mentions of mental, emotional abuse and anxiety attacks

It had been two weeks since Red Son had joined the Monkey King’s group which made him question his sanity and theirs sometimes but, it was not as unbearable as he first thought it to be. True the Dragon Horse girl will not shut up about him being an ‘official good guy’ despite him telling her numerous times that helping them will help him get revenge on the spirit that brought about his family’s downfall.

Noodle boy was quiet which unnerved him no end but then again after nearly getting defeated by Lady Bone Demon he couldn’t blame him. As someone who had been on the receiving end of her mental tormenting tactics and making his own father try to kill him, he understood all too well you’d need some time to yourself to recover.

The pigman and the scholar had made themselves the cook and quarter master of this ship and the big blue man [which he found out was called Sandy] kept the ship on course and in shape, surprisingly he was welcomed Red Son’s input on the ship’s maintenance and ideas for improvement.

Monkey King he didn’t know how he was doing because for reasons he couldn’t explain he just couldn’t bring himself to go near him.

And then it happened, a flock of demon birds attacked the air ship and during their battle to get said feathered monsters off their flying base one of the engines blew; causing the ship to tilt horribly and nearly fling all those fighting on deck into the mountains below and the begin began to plummet. It had been a tense fight between the attacking demons, time and gravity as they fought all three simultaneously before Sandy could get the failing engine working again and once, they got themselves more stable easily fought off the creatures.

Now the battle done and everyone working on getting the ship back in order, Red Son stood there before looking at the damaged engine. He should have checked the engines that morning or upgraded them by now, he should have known about the demon flock that roamed here, or at least checked whose territory these mountains were in. There were so many things he should have done to prevent all this and its only a matter of time before the rest of crew realised that too…

Red Son’s felt an all too familiar tightness in his chest and retreated to below decks, of all the times for his affliction to flare up why now? He had too many things to do and he couldn’t show weakness in front of these people! The tightness got worse and he soon realised he wasn’t going to make it back to the sleeping quarters so he made do with the broom closet, he snuck in closed the door and sank to the floor as he struggled to breathe. His thoughts began to whirl around in his head like static on a radio making him feel dizzy and he brought his knees up to his chest in the hopes of stopping his heart from leaving his chest as it started to beat so fast.

He was used to this; he knew what to do when this happened all he had to do was ride it out and wait for it to be over. If he was lucky, it’ll be over in a few minutes or if he was unlucky an hour; he just didn’t want to be caught like this! It was bad enough he was to blame for what happened what if they find him sitting in the broom closet of all thing and worse what if they notice his condition? They’ll surely kick him out for fears of infecting the others!

As these thoughts continued to whirl around his head and he wheezed in what little oxygen he could he felt someone take his hands.

“Hey its okay…its okay, try and take a deep breath for me Red can you do that?” said a voice it sounded familiar the scholar perhaps? “Focus on my voice and try to breathe in…”

Red Son tried to hone in on the voice and managed to take a deep breath.

“And breathe out slowly…”

He somehow managed to do that.

“Good, you’re doing great! And again, breathe in…and out…in…and out…” the voice soothed and coaxed Red Son back into the room, now that he could think more clearly, he saw the scholar [Tang that was what the other called him] kneeling in front of him holding his hands.

“You feeling better?” he asked. Red Son jerked his hands away and scuttled as far as he could away from the man.

“You should wash your hands…in case you get it” he mumbled.

“Get what?”

“My affliction of course” Red Son admitted shamefully.

“Red Son is this some sort of demon thing? Because from where I’m standing you were having an anxiety attack and last time I checked those weren’t contagious.” Tang said sitting down and getting himself more comfortable on the floor.

“Anxiety attack?” Red Son asked “Is that what it is?”

“Unless you demons get something else but from what I read you guys don’t get sick much…” Tang said before looking thoughtful “Though I do need to do more research into that now that you’re here just to be safe.”

“It must a curse then!” Red Son declared “Mother would have cured me had it been something small as a sickness…perhaps mother was worried of it spreading…”

“Was she the one who told you that? That others could catch it?”

“No…I just assumed because mother would… umm…tell me…to…” Red Son mumbled.

It had to be contagious why else would mother tell him to go away whenever it happened? What other reason than to protect herself and others from getting it?

“Useless child! if you’re going to be like that then go to your room!”

“You’re being an embarrassment for the both of us! Just leave me alone till you can be reasonable!”

“Red Son I thought I told you to keep this to yourself? Can’t you see Father and I are busy?”

“Red Son how long have you had this ‘affliction’?” Tang asked gently, Red Son gripped his arms to try and keep himself focussed and in the room. Tang was a scholar and had already shown an impressive amount of knowledge for a human, given he had helped him with this attack maybe he can cure him!

“I think maybe…two hundred years ago? Give or take a decade?” he suggested and Tang stared at him his glasses slipping off his nose slightly as his mouth gaped slightly before he recollected himself and pushed his glasses back into place.

“Sorry…” he apologised “I keep forgetting you’re an ancient demon.”

“I’m still considered young by my kind.” He exclaimed and heard Tang muttered ‘ow my hip’ under his breath.

“Let’s get back on track!” Tang declared “these ‘attacks’ do they happen often?”

“Depends…for a while they happened maybe every two weeks or so maybe a month…but after father came back it started to happen more often…” Red Son explained, the thought of failing his father time and time again despite his best efforts. He had wanted so bad to make up for the blighted mistake that hurt his family so much all those centuries ago, he wanted to make his father proud!

“You? Why should I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again nothing but disappointment!”

The memory of his father laughing at him and then to declare him a traitor, he knew it was that spirit’s fault but it was still his father’s voice taunting him, it was still his father’s face he would see in his memory looming over him and rushing forward to…

“Red Son?” Tang said loudly bringing Red Son out of his thoughts. “Let’s try something else, what was going through your mind when this attack started?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’m just trying to figure this out with you, were you scared of the bird demons?”

“NO!” Red Son shouted his hair flaring up in anger “How dare you even suggest that I, Red Son were scared of such minor creatures!”

“So, what was it that upset you?”

“Upset me?”

“Red Son if this is anxiety then your attack must have been triggered by something, if it wasn’t the fight what was it?” Tang inquired, it unsettled Red Son on how quiet and calm he was being about this. “It couldn’t be the fight itself because you seemed fine during that, well as fine as any of us could have been while fighting bird demons on a sinking flaming ship! But this attack began afterwards, didn’t it? so what happened between the fight ending and this starting?”

He should keep his mouth shut a part of Red Son’s mind told him, he shouldn’t expose his flaws to this human. Besides nobody needed to know about this, he was just going to be a bother to everyone…

“Keep your snivelling to yourself! Can’t you see mummy has enough on her plate because of you?”

“Quit your whining and get back to work! Honestly I don’t need this right now!”

“I…I…was thinking of all the things I should have done to prevent that from happening” Red Son finally manged to say.

“Should have done?” Tang repeated “Red Son…do you think what happened was your fault?”

Red Son froze up at those words, he could already feel his chest tighten. They knew! Of course, they knew it was his fault it had to be who else could be to blame? He was more acquainted with the area he should have known about the demon flock; he should have checked the engine so it made sense that he was to blame. It was always his fault when something went wrong Mother said so…

“It’s your fault my husband was sealed away!”

“I was left alone for decades because of you!”

“We lost the staff because your foolish weakness you pathetic little whelp!”

His fault, it was all his fault, it was always his fault!

“Do the spell!” he whispered as his heart began to pound harder.

“What?”

“Whatever you did last time, do it again!” he whimpered clutching his chest “…Please…”

Tang took his hand and Red Son hoped to feel better when Tang did whatever had done last time but nothing changed he still felt like the room was crashing in on him. The thoughts of what Monkey King will do when he finds him, how on earth he was going to explain what went wrong, what punishment awaited him and how he was going to have to make it up to them spun and clashed in his head.

“Red Son listen to me; did you know the engine was going to fail?”

“What? N…no I didn’t but I…”

“Had someone told you to check on it? Was it your job today to do so?”

“No…I mean I usually do but it looked fine yesterday…”

“Then it wasn’t your fault”

“W…what?”

“Red Son none of what happened today was your fault, how could it be? You said so yourself you checked it yesterday and it was fine, you had no way of knowing those bird demons were nearby. None of this was your fault.” Tang stated clearly holding Red’s hand tightly now.

“But…I…I mean I should have…”

“Red listen to me, we’re not going to blame you for something none of us had any control over. We fixed the problem we won the battle that’s all that matters. It wasn’t your fault.” Tang exclaimed “But you still think it is, don’t you?”

Red Son looked at him and nodded. Why did he feel such relief at being told something that should be obvious to him? Tang should be at least scolding him for acting so foolishly but he just…sits there…listening to him. It felt nice to have someone hear him out for once.

“Can you cure me of this?” he asked.

“No Red Son, this isn’t something I can just make a potion for and fix right away, but I am willing to help you through this. You don’t need to ride these ‘afflictions’ out alone, next time you feel one coming on just let me know, okay?” Tang explained and stood up helping Red Son to his feet. “Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Yes…” he said softly.

“Good we better get back up top before everyone thinks we fell overboard!” Tang beamed and opened the broom closet door; Red Son grabbed his hand before he could leave.

“Um…thank you…” Red Son said “but please don’t let anyone else know about this…”

“I won’t say a word until you’re ready!” Tang swore and they made their way back to the others, Red Son made a bee line for Sandy who was looking over the damage engine. Sandy just waved and smiled before going into detail about what he thought went wrong handing Red Son the tool box as they discussed how to fix and improve it. Tang smiled and went over to Pigsy who was in the kitchen putting away all the items that had gone flying when the ship had tilted.

“There you are!” Pigsy growled “I could’ve used a hand you know where have you been?”

“You know how we agreed when this was all over we were going to get MK to see a therapist?” Tang said as he started to pick the jars of herbs off the floor.

“Yeah?” Pigsy agreed wondering why this had come out of left field so suddenly.

“Think we could get Red Son to see one too?”

#anxiety #monkie kid #redson #tang being a good father figure

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lupiiifics · 3 years

Text

Lucky To Love You

Fic #2 Posted on AO3 on October 1, 2021 for Luzeni Friday on Twitter.

A/N: I swear my stories aren't going to be formatted like this. It's just that I formatted it to fit AO3 so I wasn't sure how to split the chapters here. I didn't want to post them separately, so this is how I did it. Hope it's not too jarring. Next story will be posted on October 8, 2021.

Summary: Zenigata and Lupin agree to a date in Lupin's jail cell. Some hijinks occur, but it's mostly just pining and fluff.

Word Count: 6,988

Chapter 1:

"He's coming."

Goemon appeared between Lupin and Jigen's shoulders, the first sign of him being the hilt of Zantetsuken. His hand gripped the shoulder of the seat in front of him, and Lupin looked back just in time to see blue lights flashing in the distance.

" Shit . How do you do that?" He asked, glancing at the samurai. "I thought we'd have a clean getaway tonight, but it looks like Pops has other plans."

"I thought you kept this one secret? How'd he find us?" Jigen asked.

Lupin shrugged. "Dunno. That guy has some sixth sense when it comes to us."

"When it comes to you , you mean," Jigen corrected. He pulled his Magnum from its holster and popped the chamber to count the amount of bullets. "Want me to take care of him?"

"Maybe. How many are there?"

Jigen turned in his seat, peering past Goemon to stare out the back windshield. "It's just him and his lacky. No one else."

Lupin nodded, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Hold off for now. I'll signal you when I need you to slow 'em down."

Jigen lowered his hand but didn't put away his gun. "What're you plannin'?"

Lupin waved a hand in front of them, steadily accelerating to try and outrun their pursuers. They were fast approaching a large copse of trees, the plush green blur becoming clearer as the seconds passed. "I'm gonna try and lose them."

"You sure?" Jigen angled his head upwards until one of his eyes was visible, his bangs peaking through to frame his face. "I could at least stall them."

"Don't waste your ammunition. Save it for when we really need it."

Jigen shrugged, leaning back to kick his feet up on the dash. He pushed his hat down over his face again and stuffed a cigarette from his pocket into his mouth. "Suit yourself. Just don't complain to me later when he catches you."

"He won't catch me," Lupin said, matter-of-factly. "I'm Lupin the Third!"

"That hasn't stopped him before," Jigen muttered. “That guy can’t resist putting his handcuffs on you, can he?”

Lupin grinned, glancing through the rearview mirror again. “Hey, I can’t help being irresistible. It comes with the charm of being me!”

The blue lights were fast approaching, as was the forest. He slammed on the breaks and pressed the clutch to the floor, shifting down until he felt the car catch enough to turn. He jerked the steering wheel, pressing Jigen up against the passenger side door, and throwing Goemon against the back seat. He came up with a glare on his face, his fierce stare peering at him through the rearview mirror.

“You could have warned us,” Goemon said, gripping Zantetsuken. The debris from their sudden shift fell through the sunroof, covering each of them in fallen branches, leaves, and dirt. Lupin ignored the yells of protest coming from his two partners, pressing down the small dirt road in hopes of losing Zenigata. The blue lights still stubbornly pursued them, however, a permanent fixture in the reflection of his mirrors.

The sound of the sirens mixed with the sound of crunching metal as long grey streaks appeared along the sides of his precious Fiat. He pressed his cheek against his window, watching as the trees scratched his car. “ Fuck . Pops is gonna owe me for this one.”

“Ain’t the first time I’ve heard you say that,” Jigen drew a pull from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nose. “You gonna actually hold him to it, this time?”

Lupin leaned forward, shifting as he accelerated deeper into the forest. It was a bumpy ride, throwing each of them around the car as the forest grew more narrow.

“Hush you,” Lupin said. He leaned over, not taking his eyes off the path ahead of him. “Gimme a taste of that, would ya?”

“Thought you hated Marlboros?”

Lupin craned his head, shrugging. “Can’t really pull one of mine out right now, can I? I’m driving.”

Jigen huffed. “Fine. Here.”

He held the cigarette out and allowed Lupin to suck on the end of it. As soon as he pulled away, he crushed the cigarette between his fingers, shoving it into the car’s ashtray and pulling another from the pocket of his jacket.

Lupin laughed the smoke forward to filter against the windshield. It rose overhead and escaped through the sunroof. “Grumpy much, Jiji?”

Jigen ignored him, lighting his brand new cigarette. Goemon leaned forward between them again, his face grim and his hair dotted with leaves and spots of dirt.

“The car will not last,” he said, indicating their slowing speed with the hilt of his sword. “Zenigata will catch up.”

Lupin looked between the samurai and the speedometer. “What? No! She can’t give up on us now!”

Jigen held up his Magnum again, eyes glinting with obvious mirth. “You want me to slow them down now?”

The car began to sputter, dying like a star at the end of its lifecycle. “I’m not sure there’s much point. Looks like we’re running from here. Goemon, you got the stuff?”

Goemon held up a duffle bag full of loot, the pockets glimmering with various pieces of gold, silver, and whatever else they could find that they deemed worth enough to take. He hefted it against the top of one of his shoulders, hopping through the sunroof right as the car came to a stop at the end of a clearing. He drew Zantetsuken in one fluid motion, sending the surrounding trees crashing to block Zenigata’s pursuit. They could hear the inspector yelling on the other side, obviously frustrated to be stopped in his goal of catching them.

“LUPIN! Move these trees, dammit!”

“Sorry, Pops!” Lupin shouted over the chaos. “But I’ve gotta run.”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Zenigata exited his police car and began climbing the fallen trees. When Jigen and Goemon saw this, they began to back away.

“Whelp, I’m outta here. You comin’, Goemon?”

The samurai nodded. “I’m right behind you, Jigen.”

Lupin turned to follow them, but found his arm restrained by a familiar set of handcuffs. He looked back, and found Zenigata half slumped over the trees, grinning at him with a thick rope clutched between his fingers. “I’ve got you now, Lupin!”

Lupin turned toward his friends, watching as they continued to run away from him. “Wait, no. Guys, help me !”

Jigen gave him a sympathetic look while Goemon remained stoic in their escape.

“Sorry, boss,” Jigen said, “but we gotta keep the goods safe, right?”

“No! You’ve got to keep me safe, you bastards!”

Jigen ignored him. “We’ll be sure to give you your share when you escape, okay boss? See ya later!”

“What?! No. Jigen , get your ass back here.”

They disappeared out of the clearing, leaving Lupin alone with Zenigata and Yata. Lupin slowly turned to find Zenigata standing behind his shoulder, tugging his hand up to grin at the cuffs.

“Thought you could escape from me, did you?” He asked. He untied the rope and grabbed Lupin’s other hand to trap behind his back. “Now you’re coming back with us to the station.”

“Aw, but Pops. Tonight was supposed to be a quiet night. I didn’t even send out a calling card.”

“I don’t care!” Zenigata beamed, his face absolutely alight with pride. “Wherever you go, I follow, remember?"

Lupin hunched his shoulders and blew out a defeated sigh. "Normally I'd call that romantic, but with you I'm not so sure."

"Call it whatever you want. You're not getting away this time, Lupin ," Zenigata said. He turned toward the pile of trees and pulled Lupin along with him. "Yata! Come help me load our prisoner."

"Yes, sir!" Yata poked his head up from where he had climbed the trees, reaching an arm down to do just as Zenigata had asked. "Boost him up. I’ll pull.”

Zenigata fumbled with his cellphone, struggling to dial the number of his police chief. Yata did his best to help him, but there wasn't much he could do for a man as stubborn as the Inspector. Lupin watched helplessly from the back seat, listening as the two bickered.

"Just let me dial the number—"

"No, I already told you I got it. Here, look. See? It's ringing!"

Zenigata held the phone gleefully to his ear, a large grin spreading across his face. Yata's expression was a little less enthusiastic, exhausted against his superior's relentless tenacity.

Zenigata didn't notice this. His voice was bright as he said, "hello? Chief? Yeah, we got 'em! We caught Lupin. We're transporting now."

Lupin had already slipped his cuffs, but his escape was thwarted by this car's lack of back-door handles. This wasn't Zenigata's typical police car. It didn't have a sunroof either.

He wrapped his arms around the headrests of the seats in front of him, leaning to poke his head between the two police officers. Yata jumped when he noticed the thief, while Zenigata ignored him and finished his report.

"We'll be there in an hour. Have his cell prepped and ready for me, alright? Yes, sir. I'll give you the full run-down once I have Lupin locked up tight."

"Sir—" Yata sputtered, staring wide-eyed at Lupin. He held his hand to his holstered handgun, ready to use it if Lupin decided to try anything hasty. Zenigata remained calm as he felt Lupin snake his hand around his left shoulder. He simply said his goodbyes, hung up the phone, and turned to look at their prisoner.

“You slipped your cuffs,” he said, voice flat.

Lupin held up the cuffs in question, hanging them off the top of his forefinger. He grinned. “You know me, Pops. I’ve never been one to be restrained.”

“I beg to differ,” Zenigata said. “Seeing as I’ve got you where I want you, and we’re heading back to the station now.”

Lupin shrugged and fell back against his seat. "I'll find a way out of this. I always do. You got a smoke?"

Zenigata grumbled, much of his initial enthusiasm gone from his body language. He rummaged through his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, pulling one out, lighting it, and handing it back to Lupin. Yata stared at him as the cigarette left his lips, his entire face twisted in confusion.

"You're actually giving him one?"

Zenigata shrugged. "They haven't been tampered with, so why not? Not like he'll get many opportunities in prison anyway."

Yata slumped his shoulders. "You're too kind, Inspector. He's a thief!"

"Hey, just ‘cause he’s a thief, doesn’t mean I can’t treat him with respect.” Zenigata said.

Yata sighed, and Lupin laughed at the reserved look on the young police officer’s face. This earned him a glare worthy of Goemon, and Lupin’s laughter only got louder.

“Zenigata, with all due respect, you’re hopeless…”

His cell was at the back of the police station, past the rows of office desks, people, and officers. The room was dark and windowless, with lights that were controlled by whoever was guarding him. The cell door was heavy and automated, with no obvious control panel, nor way Lupin could conceivably hack it. He realized then that this cell had been specifically created to contain him, at least temporarily, until they could figure out a way to keep him from escaping. It was kind of impressive actually, until he realized the reality of what that would mean.

“You’ve been doing your research,” Lupin said, looking around. There was a bed suspended by wire in the corner of the room, and a mirror and toilet behind a wall for him to use.

“Told you you weren’t going anywhere,” Zenigata said. He pressed his hand against the back of Lupin’s shoulder, pushing him forward into the cell. “Welcome to your new home, Lupin~”

Lupin was beginning to panic, though he hid it under a veneer of careful planning. He straightened the orange jumpsuit they’d forced him into. Anything to make him look, and feel, composed. “ Temporary home, you mean. You know I’ll bust outta here eventually.”

Zenigata smiled at him and started to turn to leave the cell. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

Lupin stumbled forward, unaware of the movement until it was actually happening. He caught Zenigata’s wrist in a plea to get him to stop. “Wait.”

“What?” Zenigata raised a dark eyebrow at him, turning to stare at their intertwined arms. “Do you need something?”

“Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Zenigata shook his head, pulling away. “I don’t make deals with criminals, Lupin. You know that.”

Lupin was desperate. “A bet then. If I can make it through a week, you have to go on a date with me.”

Zenigata’s face flushed red and he took a step backwards. “A date ? Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably,” Lupin said, “but anyway. What do you say? Will you accept?”

Zenigata pressed his back against the cell door, face still flushed with what Lupin thought was embarrassment. “Don’t you have Fujiko? Or Jigen? Why would you want me ?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” Lupin asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re my rival , Zenigata. No cop in the world has ever managed to capture me for more than a night, and you’ve done it more than I can count. You’re my equal .”

“What about the others?” Zenigata asked. “Won’t they be angry?”

Lupin waved a hand. “Nah, they won’t care.”

Zenigata spluttered. “But isn’t that… cheating?”

“ Zenigata …” Lupin stared at him, a smile slowly growing to meet his eyes. “People can be polyamorous.”

“R...Right.”

Lupin edged toward the inspector eagerly. “So? What do you say?”

Zenigata rubbed his face. He was silent for several moments, seemingly going over the pros and cons in his head.

“This isn’t some plan to escape, is it?”

Lupin shrugged. “That depends. Where will the date take place?”

Zenigata scanned the room with his eyes, a plan slowly forming in his mind. “Here.”

“Really? How?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Zenigata said, “but we’re sure as Hell not doing it anywhere else.”

Lupin drooped his shoulders, disappointed that his idea hadn’t quite worked how he expected. “Aw, you’re no fun.”

“Just be glad I’m gonna let you do this at all.”

“So is that a yes?”

Zenigata looked like he was about to sign his soul away. He exhaled and rolled his shoulders. “ Yes , but only if you make it a week. Otherwise, the entire thing is off.”

Lupin shouted his excitement, throwing his arms around the inspector’s shoulders. “I’m looking forward to it!”

Zenigata allowed Lupin to nuzzle into his neck for a moment, enjoying the contact as much as he could allow. A moment later, he pried the thief off of him, and missed the warmth of his arms almost immediately. “Seven days,” he said. He held up seven fingers. “One week from today, or the date’s off.”

Lupin saluted him loyally, stepping back with a grin bright on his face. “Yes, sir! One week.”

Zenigata gave Lupin a small smile, stepping to turn back to the door. He paused for a width of a second, expecting something else, but the only sound he heard was the squeak of Lupin’s bed as the prisoner climbed into it. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed as he left the jail cell. There shouldn’t have been anything else he was expecting.

As soon as the door closed, and Lupin was sure Zenigata was gone, he tugged at the edge of his ear until a small earpiece popped out into his hand. He played with the contraption for several seconds, bending and contracting it until he had it how he liked it. Then he hooked it back to the plastic by his ear, and grinned when he heard the other end pick up.

Jigen sounded tired as he answered, and Lupin wondered if he had woken him. “Boss?”

“Hey, Jiji . Listen. I need a favor.”

Chapter 2:

Report #1, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day one of Lupin’s imprisonment was an overall success. Lupin himself was cooperative. He answered my questions, followed orders, and did his best to seem like a perfect prisoner. Most of his first day was spent lounging on the bed. When I asked if he needed anything, he requested extra blankets. This seemed to be for comfort, as he used them as pillows and laid one over the sheets on the mattress. Otherwise, there is nothing else to report. He asked me for details on the date, and I hesitated to answer. I’m still not sure what I’m feeling over our bet, but my heart keeps skipping beats. Maybe I should go see a doctor?”

Report #2, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day two came with a string of complications, none of which seemed to affect Lupin or his seemingly unwavering determination to make it through this week. I hadn’t expected him to be so positive throughout this experience. So far he’s been nothing but smiles when in the past, it was always grandeur and posturing. I feel like he’s hiding something from me, though I can’t figure out what. I will get to the bottom of it, however. He can’t hide from me! I know all his secrets. Also… he called me ‘handsome.’ I’m not sure if that’s information I should share in my reports, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Report #3, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I think his facade is starting to crack. When I approached his cell at the beginning of my shift, I found him shouting orders to the men guarding his door. Of course, this stopped once I announced myself. The men wouldn’t answer me when I asked what he had been shouting about. Instead, they told me it was nothing and, even when ordered, ignored me when I asked them to tell me. I entered Lupin’s cell angry, which was a mistake, because he caught me off guard with a hug from behind. I was so startled that I threw him off. Of course, he laughed about it. Sometimes I forget how damn good of a man Lupin can be. It takes a lot to piss him off. Apparently throwing him against a wall isn’t enough to break him down.”

Report #4, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day 4 and I think Yata has finally given up on me. He refuses to work with me on Lupin’s imprisonment, instead choosing to pursue the other three. So far, he hasn’t made much leeway. I warned him that this would be the case. Lupin might have screwed up by allowing himself to get caught, but Jigen and Goemon are a whole other monster when put together. And who even knows what’s going on with Fujiko? Lupin doesn’t seem to know where she is, but he’s not concerned, so neither am I. I instructed Yata to keep looking, if only to keep him from judging me. He seems disappointed in my deal with Lupin. Personally, I don’t see the issue with it if it keeps him in jail. We’ll have to see how it goes. That is, if Lupin makes it through all 7 days and Yata stops sighing whenever he looks at me.

Lupin was just as sugar-coated as usual today. He kept asking me opinions on things we could do during our date. I’m not sure if that was his way of flirting with me or if he was simply trying to make small talk. He does seem fairly sincere in his affections, but Lupin is like that with a lot of people. I don’t know if I can trust him. The men cheered when I exited the cell and I found several post-it notes with words of encouragement at my desk. I’m not certain I like what they’re all getting at.”

Report #5, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“We ran into our first actual issue with Lupin today. He seemed oddly defeated when I visited him in his cell, though he put up a facade almost as soon as he noticed me. Otherwise, he was energetic. I don’t know if being in the cell is starting to take its toll, or if he’s accepted his future imprisonment. He wasn’t lying when he said I’d done my research. The cell itself is tailor made to keep him contained, plus it’s at the back of the police station. If he were to escape, he’d have to go through me and every officer on duty in the office. He might be a master thief who had escaped from impossible odds time and time again, but everyone has their limit. He is just one man, and as far as Yata has told me, there’s no sign of Jigen or Goemon on their way to save him. As far as I can tell, they’ve abandoned him. Maybe that’s why he’s so listless? He’s probably missing his partners. I’ll try my best to make him happy during his time here, if only to wipe that hurt puppy look off his stupid monkey face.”

Report #6, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I can tell Lupin is trying to come up with a way of escaping after our date in two days. He was restless when I found him this morning. I don’t think he’s really slept since I caught him, and while that shouldn’t concern me, it does. I tried asking him about how he was feeling, and he just dodged the question. I wonder if this is what he’s like with all of his partners. Is he open with Jigen, Fujiko, and Goemon? Or does he thrive on hiding behind a mask? He seems to be trying to convince me he’s fine, but I can see he’s not. I don’t think he likes being alone. He thrives off of other people, but I can hardly let him around other prisoners. It’s not that he’s particularly dangerous. He’s rarely even violent. He’s just flighty. If I let him anywhere but the bath house and his cell, he’ll get too many ideas and be out of my hands before I even know it. Maybe that’s not a risk right now with our date at the end of the week, but it becomes a risk as soon as that date is over. I’m not sure if this entire thing is just some elaborate scheme to take advantage of me, but he does seem to actually like me. I keep asking what it is he sees in me, an old police inspector, and he keeps saying the same thing. We’re destined rivals, which means we’re destined to be together.”

Report #7, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“The date is tomorrow night, which seems to have revived Lupin’s spirits a bit. He gave me a hug again when I entered his cell, though he waited until I could see him before actually doing it. This time, I didn’t throw him off me, though part of me kind of wanted to. I just can’t wrap my head around what’s happening here. We’re on the opposite sides of the law. I shouldn’t have this pressing need for him to be nearby, but I do. I’ve tried so long to push these feelings aside, or to channel them into capturing him, and now that I have, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve started to realize that this is the way it’s always been. That my desire to capture him was more than just my job. It was personal, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about that. The men seem supportive, with the only detracting person still being Yata. He seems to have overall accepted the fact that this is something that’s happening. I don’t know how to explain to him why I have to do this. Hopefully, he’ll eventually understand.”

Report #8, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I still think Lupin is hiding something from me, and when I tried to ask about it, he once again ignored me. For now, I’m giving up on figuring it out by focusing on tonight. Lupin seemed over the moon when I talked to him about it this morning. I’m mostly nervous. I’m getting off an hour early to go home and prepare. The men seemed excited for me. They kept cheering me on about it. They even got Yata to join in, though he seemed embarrassed. It makes me happy to finally see him come around. Yata’s still new to this. I think it’s taken him a while to understand that the life of someone like us is not all about catching criminals. Sometimes, it’s about capturing them and then going on dates with them. I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

Chapter 3:

Zenigata pulled up to the police station embarrassed.

He was dressed in a dark brown pinstripe suit, with a pristine white dress shirt, a cream and gold striped tie, and an old pair dress shoes. He felt oddly stuffy when walking into the station. Like he looked out of place. Most of the people on duty complimented him as he passed, and suddenly he wished he had not gone without his hat. At least with it he could hide, and maybe get rid of this feeling of wanting to flee. This was Lupin’s reward, after all. He couldn’t back out now, not when the thief had buckled down and done what he had promised to, anyway.

He noticed about halfway through the office that most of his colleagues wouldn’t look him in the eye. Normally this wouldn’t be something that bothered him. He could be intimidating, especially to younger officers, based on his title alone, but this was different. People he’d worked with for years didn’t quite meet his gaze. They dodged his questions, welcomed him and asked him what he had planned, but they didn’t look at him. It got to the point that he thought something was wrong with the way he looked, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over him once again.

The only outlier was Yata, who led him back to Lupin’s cell with the same smile he always had on his face. He treated Zenigata as he normally did, and for the moment, that helped to calm him down.

“Is something wrong?” Zenigata asked as they passed the rows of desks.

Yata shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that everyone seems to be acting weird.”

Yata shrugged. “It’s not everyday a police inspector has a date with a world-renowned criminal. I’m not sure it’s surprising that they’re acting differently.”

Zenigata shifted the basket he had brought with him to rest under one of his arms. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Yata looked back, holding out his keycard, but not actually scanning it against the hidden scanner quite yet. “No. Why would I be mad?”

Zenigata rubbed his neck. “Well, I know this isn’t quite what you expected when you agreed to become my partner.”

Yata laughed and it surprised him. “With all due respect, sir, nothing we’ve done so far has been what I was expecting. It’s been fun though, and I hope we continue to work together.”

“So you’re really not upset at me?”

“No. I thought it was odd at first, but then the men reminded me that this is always how it’s been between you and Lupin.”

Zenigata was astonished. “That’s not true…”

Yata smiled. “Are you sure? From what they tell me, you’ve always been smitten with him.”

“That’s… okay, probably true, but I don’t know if ‘always’ is the word I’d use.”

“Whatever you say, Inspector.” Yata scanned the keycard, and punched in a code that was linked to his work phone. “You ready?”

Zenigata sighed, looking down at himself and the basket. He looked back up to Yata and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The feeling of nervousness was so strong his chest hurt. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as Yata opened the door. Maybe it would be empty? Maybe this was how they discovered how Lupin had played them? Maybe it would be normal? He didn’t know.

What he wasn’t expecting was the sound of music, the smell of scented wax candles, or the shuffle of feet as Lupin rushed to finish whatever it was he was preparing. He stepped through to see the thief turn on his heel, greeting Zenigata just as the door to his cell slammed shut behind him.

“Pops! Welcome!” Lupin swung his arms aside to showcase what he had been working on. It was then Zenigata noticed that both the room, and Lupin, had been transformed to match that of some fancy French restaurant. There was a tall circular table in the middle of the room, covered by a bright white sheet. On this table sat a basket of red wine and two crystalline glasses, as well as two tall candles and a single red rose in a vase. On the floor near the table was a small black cassette radio playing a song Zenigata didn’t recognize. It said,

“ I ain't got any worries

And I ain't got any money

But luck seems to follow

Wherever I go

When you said hello

My luck disappeared

You didn't even know I cared. ”

Lupin wore a black three piece suit, fancier than anything Zenigata owned, with a white ruffled blouse, and shiny silver cufflinks. He was so surprised by this, he didn’t even hug back when the thief wrapped his arms around his shoulders. His mind was too preoccupied with trying to figure out how he’d done this, along with processing just how good Lupin looked in that suit.

“What is this?” Zenigata asked, voice weak.

Lupin pulled away from him and smiled. He led Zenigata to the table, and pulled out one of the two chairs for him to take. “Our date,” he said. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“How? How did you do this?”

Lupin’s smile turned into a grin. He picked up the glasses and placed one in front of Zenigata. “I enlisted the help of your men. They planned everything. All I did was order some stuff for Jigen to drop off. Like this wine, or my favorite suit.”

“They… really? Is that why they wouldn’t look at me as I was walking in?”

Lupin shrugged. “I guess they didn’t want to ruin the surprise. What do you think? Did they do a good job?”

“It’s perfect,” Zenigata said, still shellshocked. “Wait, did you say you’ve spoken to Jigen?”

“Yes, but not about escaping. I’ve kept my promise.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about. I just want to know how.”

Lupin looked guilty, and pulled at something at the top of his left ear. A thin flesh colored piece of metal appeared between his fingers and Lupin held it out to show him. “This is how. It’s an antenna with a builtin speaker and microphone. I connect it to this,” he removed another piece by his ear, “and I can talk to whoever it’s connected to like a cellphone.”

“Shit, didn’t think of that,” Zenigata said. He wasn’t really surprised. With the amount of contraptions Lupin had on his person at any one time, it was impossible to be alarmed by missing something.

Lupin’s expression of guilt shifted to pride and he grinned. “Clever isn’t it? I came up with it for situations just like this.”

“You came up with it for dates with police inspectors?” Zenigata smiled, watching as Lupin’s expression shifted once more into disdain.

“Quit being facetious. You know what I invented it for. Now drink your wine.”

Zenigata nodded and picked up his glass. “About that. You said Jigen dropped this off? How’d he do that without being caught?”

Lupin took a sip of his own glass, tipping it toward him. “He disguised himself as one of your officers. Said something about finding everything I asked for dropped off at the door with a note attached saying, ‘For Lupin.’”

“And they didn’t notice?”

Lupin bobbed his head. “What can I say? There’s truly no one out there like you, Pops.”

“Koichi.”

“Hm?”

“For tonight, call me Koichi. This is a date, isn’t it?”

Lupin laughed. “Yes it is. Doesn’t that mean you should call me Arsène?”

“Do you want me to?” Zenigata asked.

Lupin hid his face in his glass. “I wouldn’t be against it, though I cannot remember the last time someone called me by my first name. It might have been right before my grandfather died. I can’t be sure.”

“Well, Arsène , if it’s any consolation, I don’t remember the last time someone called me by my first name either.”

Lupin shivered and placed his glass back down on the table. “Okay, that’s gonna take some getting used to. It doesn’t even sound like my name anymore.”

“I can call you Lupin instead if you’d like.”

Lupin shook his head. “Nah, if it’s coming from you, Koichi. It’s fine.”

Zenigata smiled. He leaned forward in his seat and took another sip from his glass. “Alright, but we go back to normal after this. I don’t know how the men would react if they heard you calling me Koichi.”

Lupin nodded. “And I don’t know how Jigen would react if he heard you call me Arsène. He might actually kill me. He gets kind of touchy when it comes to things like that.”

“I don’t think Jigen would be capable of killing you,” Zenigata said. “One, you’re well… you and two, he loves you too much.”

“Oh he’s capable, alright. If Jigen wanted to, he’d be able to take me out in mere seconds. Luckily, as you said, he loves me.”

“A lot of people do,” Zenigata said.

Lupin leaned forward. The look on his face was wide and cocky. “Is one of those people you, Koichi ?”

The way Lupin purred his name gave Zenigata pause more than the actual question did. He found himself spluttering for an answer, his entire face flushed and bright red. “I… well . Yes. I suppose so.”

The song playing over the radio had long since repeated itself, playing softly to aid the thoughts running through Zenigata’s mind. Now it said,

“ Lucky-I can't be lucky in love

All my four leaf clovers

Can't do me no good

Funny, just when I needed to be lucky

Couldn't help but lovin' you

Lovin' you… ”

Lupin repeated the last of the lyrics in a whisper between them, wineglass all but forgotten and Zenigata the main focus of his attention. He reached forward and plucked the inspectors hands up off his lap, rubbing calloused thumbs over the top of both of them.

Zenigata stared at their entwined hands, and couldn’t help the thrum of emotion from rising deep within him. He almost felt like crying. He wasn’t quite sure why.

Lupin noticed this and smiled at him. He leaned farther forward, close enough that Zenigata could smell the wine on his breath. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you this yet, but you look wonderful tonight, Koichi. I wasn’t even expecting you to come dressed up.”

“I couldn’t very well show up in my regular clothes now, could I? Just because it’s been a while, doesn’t mean I don’t remember how to prepare for a date.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Lupin said. “You’re perfect no matter what you’re dressed in.”

“That’s not true, but thank you anyway, Arsène.”

Lupin looked scandalized. “It is true, but you’re welcome.”

Zenigata felt awkward, but he plowed forward anyway. “You… you look nice tonight too. So nice in fact, I think I short circuited when Yata let me into your cell.”

Lupin giggled and nodded his head. “I noticed that, though I wasn’t sure if it was me or if it was everything we’d managed to sneak in.”

“It was both,” Zenigata said. “Though you were a big part of it.”

“Even in jail, I clean up pretty nice, don’t I?” Lupin looked down at himself and back up at Zenigata. “They even let me shave.”

“I can tell, and yes. You’re probably the most beautiful person I know.”

Lupin looked genuinely touched. “Even compared to Fujicakes?”

Zenigata nodded. “She doesn’t even begin to hold a torch to you. I promise.”

“Hey, Fuji-chan’s a knockout. Don’t underestimate her looks.”

“Don’t underestimate yours either,” Zenigata said. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” Lupin smiled. “Hey, Koichi. I have a question.”

Zenigata dipped his head. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Everything stopped, and the blush returned to Zenigata’s face. That song kept up it’s chorus, saying,

“ Couldn't help but lovin' you

Lovin' you… ”

“Yeah…”

Lupin inclined his head, letting go of Zenigata’s hands to press his own against his cheeks. His lips were soft as they met the inspector’s, sweet like wine and cherry chapstick. For several moments they stayed like that, lost in a world of warmth, love, and that happy song playing in the backdrop. Zenigata’s heart raced as the time went on, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The kiss felt so right against him that he wished it would go on forever. The rush of air between them tickeled as their breaths quickened, and their tongues slid together through parted lips. It was like nothing Zenigata had ever experienced. Like lightning in a bottle or the unmistakable feeling he got during a car chase.

When they pulled apart, he wanted to go back in. When Lupin smiled at him, he did. The second kiss was faster, more passionate, but just as sweet. They pushed against each other, fighting for dominance. For a time, it was unclear who would break away first. It seemed to go on endlessly, but at long last, it was Zenigata who broke contact.

They came up from the kiss huffing into each other’s faces, out of breath but grinning like school girls. Lupin snuck his chair closer to Zenigata, and wrapped his arms around his back to bury his face in the inspector’s neck. He sighed heavily, purring almost like a contented cat.

“I’m glad we made that bet,” he said. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

Zenigata hummed and allowed himself to nuzzle his nose against the thief’s shoulder. “I did too. We should do this every time I catch you.”

“Thought I wasn’t getting away?” Lupin chuckled, and Zenigata felt it bubble between their chests.

“You’re not,” Zenigata said. “But in the case you do, I’m going to be extra determined to get you back.”

Lupin’s chuckled turned into genuine laughter, and he pulled away just enough to see Zenigata’s face. They were close enough that their knees pressed together, the fronts of each of their chairs practically touching. “Challenge accepted,” he said. “Though we don’t have to save these dates for every time you catch me.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Zenigata asked.

“Hey, the chase and date themselves might be fun, but I’d actually like to take you out sometime.”

“I wouldn’t be against that. This turned out to be more than I was expecting.”

“Is that a good thing?” Lupin asked.

Zenigata nodded and pressed his lips against Lupin’s forehead. “It’s the best.”

“Good,” Lupin leaned down onto his shoulder again. He grew heavy until, that is, he noticed something. He perked up. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Lupin broke away from him to grab the basket Zenigata had deposited beside his chair. He held it out. “This.”

Zenigata slapped his forehead, having completely forgotten about his basket. He took it from Lupin and placed it on the table, opening it up and dropping its contents around the candles and rose. The moment he pulled out two containers of cup noodles, his electric kettle, and bottles of water, Lupin lost it. He nearly fell out of his chair laughing, and for a moment Zenigata grew defensive.

“What are you laughing at?”

The laughing continued. “Why…why did you bring cup noodles?”

“It was all I had.”

“But we’re on a date .”

Zenigata was confused. “So? They’re good and easy to make. There’s not much we can do in a jail cell so I had to improvise.”

“Yeah, but cup noodles? You could have ordered something from a restaurant and brought it with you.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Zenigata said. “And anyway, why does it matter? Why’s it matter what we eat?”

“It doesn’t,” Lupin said. “It’s just so incredibly you . I’m not sure what else I was expecting.”

“I’m not sure what you were expecting either.”

Lupin continued to laugh. “You realize the wine I asked for isn’t cheap, right? Wine and cup noodles. It’s so… perfect .”

Zenigata began to put his supplies away, offended by Lupin’s reaction. “If you don’t want ‘em, I’ll leave. Maybe this was a mistake after all.”

Lupin threw out his hands to stop him. “ No . No. Don’t go. I'm sorry. I’m not mocking you. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“I can order something too if that’s what you’d prefer. I’m sure Yata would—”

“No. Make the damn noodles, Koichi. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”

Zenigata slowly started to place his supplies back down on the table. “You’re sure?”

Lupin nodded. “I can’t wait to tell Jigen about this. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Alright,” Zenigata said. “I’ll be sure not to bring noodles with me on our next date.”

Lupin shook his head. “But you have to. At this point, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Perhaps, but it’s only because I love you.”

Zenigata stared at him, all the emotions of the past hour rushing back to flood his brain.

“I love you too,” he said, along with the chorus of that song, and the chuckles of his thief reverberating throughout the jail cell.

#lupin iii #koichi zenigata #arsene lupin iii #jigen daisuke #goemon ishikawa #lupin x zenigata #zenigata x lupin #luzeni #my writing

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