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weepylucifer · 3 years

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Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

#dinluke #skydalorian #hurt/comfort #sickfic #this one's about two guys who don't normally have people finding themselves having someone #it got longer than expected!#did i give din djarin the corner virus by accident #big yikes #posts by me

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 8~

This is my favorite chapter!!!!

Chapter 7

-------Part 1-----

Kurama: “...............I don’t like beasts that flatter me like cats. I’d rather....”

Benkei: “Have good sake and snacks?”

Kurama(smile): “You understand me well. Let’s quickly end this crappy battle and return to Hiraizumi in triumph.”

(....I wonder if Kurama is even aware.)

The expression on Kurama's face, which had been so bored just a moment ago, has changed.

To be alive and well since Benkei-san's arrival.

Benkei: "Hey, Kurama. Don't fight too hard. You'll have a hard time keeping up."

Kurama: "Don't give me orders. Killing four or five soldiers is nothing to me."

Benkei: "It's no use taking sense to you----Look out!"

(Ah)

After a quick kick to the horse's stomach, Benkei-san switches places with Kurama.

My body shook from the impact and Kurama easily supported me.

Kurama: "He has good instincts for a man of his size."

Benkei: "Why does size matter?"

The white blades of miscellaneous swords and swords in an arc as the horse in driven attack the enemy.

After that----

Enemy soldier 10: "RETREAT! RETREAT!

Kurama attacked and Benkei-san defended in the form that had somehow become solidified.

At last, the rebels succeeded in repelling the enemy.

Kurama: "That's it? Man, that didn't even pass my boredom."

Benkei: "Your leisure time may have given the enemy survivors nightmares for a while though."

(-----I got it! I finally understand the strange feeling I've had for so long.)

I remember a conversation I had with Kurama before I came here.

------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: "I will not allow Benkei, Yoshitsune's property, to die in vain, so that his sword and his soul may be clouded."

Kurama: "And."

Yoshino: 'And?"

Kurama: "Benkei is good at making snacks."

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(I think Kurama probably meant what he said at that moment.)

(But I know that I, the enemy, saw it.)

If they didn't recognize each other, they wouldn't be able to work together in battle, they wouldn't be able to have a friendly conversation like that...

(Kurama seems to not realize....that he loves Benkei.)

-----Part 2-----

(Kurama seems to not realize....that he loves Benkei.)

What came to mind was the conversation we had on the way to this place with the soldiers.

-----FLASHBACK------

Yoshino: "But Kurama's words inspired the soldiers. If they'd only been afraid, they would have shriveled up, wouldn't they?"

Kurama: "In this army, my identity is supposed to be that of a kind of foreign warrior who helps Yoshitsune. That's why those who worship Yoshitsune so blindly are so annoyingly humble towards me."

Yoshino: " I see. Hmmm........"

Kurama: "I don't know what you're obsessed with, but I don't see the point in questioning me."

Yoshino: ".....I don't understand myself."

------FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(In the rebel army, Kurama has behaved as he wanted. But...)

Despite his overwhelming power, Kurama does not try to deceive or manipulate people.

How much does that inspire his side?

(Kurama himself is too uninterested to know how important he is in the rebel force.)

(And yet, he won people's hearts despite their awe.)

Kurama: ".....? This woman is not moving. Is she dead?"

A suspicious tap on my cheek brings me back to reality.

Yoshino(blushing): "Yes, I'm alive."

Benkei: "I thought you were scared because we're on a rampage."

Kurama: "She's not that kind of woman. .....Oh, I get it now."

Yoshino: "Eh?"

Kurama: "You obeyed my order when I said you to sit still like an ornament. I see you're finally learning to be promising."

In a good mood, Kurama played with a tuft of my hair with his fingertips.

Yoshino(blushing): "Um sorry, but I was thinking of something else....

Kurama: "What?"

Benkei: "......................! Okay, I have a lot to ask, but first....when did you two get so close?"

----"We're not", is what Kurama and I replied at the same time, to Benke-san's question.

.................

Benkei: "......And also fox princess, became our prisoner."

------Part 3-----

Benkei: "......And also fox princess, became our prisoner."

After Benkei-san and Kurama turned back to the rebels encampment and were greeted with cheers.....

Out of sight of the soldiers, I was being interrogated by Benkei-san.

Yoshino: "....What will happen to me now?"

Benkei: "At any rate, we will take you to Hiraizumi. We'll have to ask Yoshitsune-sama for his judgment."

Kurama: "I'll tell you what, I picked her up and I'll do what I want with her."

Yoshino: "Wait...."

Naturally, he pulls me by the shoulders and my vision turns black.

Benkei: "Huh? What's the matter with you, Kurama?"

Kurama: "This ordinary woman has taken me by surprise, either by accident or inevitably, with her crazy behavior. If I keep her in my hands, I might see something unusual again."

Benkei: "Humans are not demon's lapdogs."

Kurama: "It's strange. Until today I thought you were no better than animals."

Benkei-san facepalms at Kurama's words.

Yoshino: "Um....Benkei-san."

Benkei: "Just call me Benkei. You call Kurama by his first name right. Do the same for me."

Yoshino: "Eh? ......Okay."

(He looks scary....but from the way he treats his men, he doesn't seem like a bad guy.)

But still, I kept my face up feeling alert.

Benkei: "You're the enemy, but apparently you've swept the heart by our demon. I....sympathize with that."

Kurama: "When did she sweep my heart? Do you think I have a lot of free time for her?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I feel like I've not swayed....

2. When you say it like that....(+4/+4)

3. You didn't know what you were doing?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: ".....It's strange because when you say it out loud, I feel like I've not swayed at all."

Kurama: "....? What are you taking for granted?"

Yoshino: "Ehhh....."

(Well, for Kurama, it means he just did what he wanted to do.)

Yoshino: "Umm...Thank you for your concern, Benkei. But I would like to ask you one question, did the Shogunate get out of the war safely?"

(Maybe I shouldn't be asking this of my enemies but....)

(I have no other way to get information now...)

Benkei: "........The Shogunate has withdrawn. The damage was only moderate. But unfortunately....."

------Part 4------

Benkei: "........The Shogunate has withdrawn. The damage was only moderate. But unfortunately.....They have lost their precious fox princess, which is a painful split when you think about it."

Yoshino: "I........"

I squeezed my fingertips in disappointment.

Benkei: "On second thought, it might be a good opportunity for you to get rid of the Shogunate. Yoshitsune-sama is not the one who takes the life of a woman who has no intention to fight against him."

Yoshino: ".....It's harder to do than hearing it...."

Kurama: "It's hard? Why not? Wouldn't you rather live it up?"

Yoshino: "I want to live. But I am a member of the Shogunate, even if my time is short."

Benkei and Kurama: "...........!!!"

Yoshino: "Because today I learned...Benkei is a man who would die for his men, and the rebel soldiers have a bond that allows them to fight for their friends. Perhaps Yoshitsune-sama is worthy and noble to be a lord of such people."

Benkei: "......He is."

Yoshino: "That's why it's so hard to stay an enemy."

When I muttered this Benkei's face lit up.

Kurama: "You're weak, but you're going to hold your ground in enemy territory."

Yoshino: "If I don't, I won't be stronger."

Benkei: "You do wanna die young, do you?"

Yoshino: ".....I don' wanna die."

(But....)

Yoshino: "-----For he who is gripped by fear is as good as not alive."

Kurama: ".......!"

Kurama immediately realized where the slurred words had come from.

-----FLASHBACK-----

Yoshino: “So you chose not to kill him....?”

Kurama: “He who is gripped by fear is as good as not alive. What is the use of slaying the dead?”

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

Kurama: ".....Cheeky woman."

A smile appeared on Kurama's lips and Benkei's eyes widened as if he saw something unusual.

..................

(I can't sleep.)

There was no way that I could escape from the encampment, which was under guard.

I'm sitting in front of my tent, looking up at the stars when----

Kurama: "What are you doing here?"

------Part 5-------

Kurama: "What are you doing here?"

Yoshino: "OH, hey Kurama."

Kurama: "Don't raise your voice."

I saw Kurama looking down at me, apparently passing by on his way to his tent.

Yoshino: "Are you not feeling sleepy?"

Kurama: "Demons don't need sleep, unlike you humans. So I went to steal Benkei's sake and snacks."

When looked closely, Kurama was holding a sake bottle in his hand.

Yoshino: "Do you like sake that much?"

(He also seems to be obsessed with snacks made by Benkei.)

Kurama: "Sake is the next best thing to fighting the strong."

Yoshino: "Even better than flying?"

Kurama: "If it's delicious, then yes."

Kurama replied languidly and then suddenly pulled my arm.

Yoshino: "What....?"

Kurama: "I've got a good idea. Entertain me while I'm occupied with my sake and snacks."

.................

While I was in a daze, Kurama brought me inside his tent.

Kurama: "Come on, do it."

Yoshino: "Even if you say that....all I am good at is making medicines."

Kurama: "It's not worth talking about. You can only heal wounds, but can't win a fight."

Kurama sits in a daze sipping his drink feeling bored.

(I'm in trouble...)

Yoshino: "But if you save someone's life, don't you save your forces from diminishing?"

Kurama: "There is no power that can hold together the lives of so many. The moment a man is injured and dies, you know he was a weak man."

Yoshino: "I want to help all of them together, the weak and the strong, but...."

(No good. I'm sure this story will always be parallel.)

I took a deep breath and said out what I was thinking.

Yoshino: "Why does Kurama hate boredom so much?"

Kurama: "If you live long enough, you'll need stimulation. It's only natural. The soul seeks a grittier battle, a more polished strongman. All this fighting today has made my blood run cold."

(Surely, Kurama looked bored. But....)

Yoshino: "But Kurama seemed to enjoy fighting with Benkei."

Kurama: "What?"

Yoshino: ".....Didn't you realize that yourself?"

Kurama: "----What do you even know about me? I gave you the right to speak and now you're getting on my head."

In the darkness of the tent, Kurama's eyes seemed to glow, and I shuddered.

(Ah....)

A hand reached out and touched my cheek as if to test my reaction.

(I can't retreat here.)

This reckless war of mine has been going on ever since I met Kurama again in Kamakura.

If I stay frozen for one more time, I will never be able to stand up to him.

Yoshino: ".....I certainly don't know anything about Kurama. But still, the weak observe the strong."

Kurama: "................."

Yoshino: "At least it's faster for me to get to know Kurama.... than for Kurama, who has no interest in humans, to get to know me."

Kurama: "-----Those eyes."

Yoshino: "hmm?"

The fingertips on my cheek, come up within a touching distance of my eyeballs.

I didn't have to raise my voice because----

The emotion in Kurama's eyes was neither anger nor contempt.

Kurama: "I don't like your eyes. I hate the way how it's shining so strangely in the dark night."

Chapter 9

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #ikemen mc #cybird #ikemen games #cybird ikemen #main story translations #otome

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anasticklefics · 4 years

Text

Tickle Cheating

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy

Summary: Jim tickles Bones. It’s what he DOES. So how does one react when you see someone else tickle your usual victim? Like a mess if you’re Jim Kirk apparently!

A/N: I blame @fickle-tiction (are you HAPPY?). Also I don’t know how hospitals work don’t yell at me. Might rewrite this idea with lee!Jim because he has my heart.

Also does this whole fic and my author’s note have a general chaotic air about it or am I going crazy haha?

Words: 3 124

The first time Jim noticed it was when he dropped by the hospital to deliver Bones’ lunch that he’d left at the kitchen counter of their shared dorm room. Entering a space that was oddly both chaotic and completely still at the same time, the general air so suffocating that it was no wonder Bones was exhausted each time he returned from a shift. Jim grinned at the receptionist, unsure of where the med students where and if he was even allowed past a certain point and if so, “would you or someone give this to Leonard McCoy?”

But the woman, hair framing her heart shaped, incredibly kind face, met his grin with a smile and told him he could go right in.

“If someone stops you or you can’t find him, simply ask if someone can leave the box in the kitchen.”

Her words sounded scripted in a way that told him this probably happened more often than not, and he thanked her and left. Up three stories with the elevator to the floor she’d directed him toward, footsteps echoing around the empty corridors, until he eventually found a more chaotic environment in the form of the emergency room.

How many times had he been here just that semester?

“Kirk!” someone Jim recognized from the Academy called out, glancing up from a clipboard. “What have you done now?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s been months since… whatever. Do you know where Bones is? McCoy. Whatever you call him.”

“I tend to call him Leo.”

“That’s weird. Do you know where he is? He left his lunch.”

The guy, unnamed for now and the rest of eternity, pointed his thumb in the direction of yet another corridor. “Third door to the right.”

“Should I just go in?”

“They don’t have any patients in there right now.”

So Jim went, wondering if he was breaking any rules but feeling extremely ready to get out of there.

He saw it then. The small room - do they perform surgeries in there? - with a bed and a table and four windows and five people, all on top of each other with Bones in the middle. All talking, simultaneously grave and cracking jokes. Familiar, whether they wanted to or not. A job where you couldn’t be timid of bodily contact; eating and sleeping almost in each other’s laps. Jim looked at Bones, saw how easily he moved with elbows in his guts and people breathing down his neck.

He also saw his face light up when he caught sight of Jim.

“I brought your lunch,” he said meekly, holding it up, and if Bones was the type to profess his undying love for his friends, Jim was sure he would be going down on one knee right now.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” he said later, having entered their dorm as Jim had been nearly falling asleep over his homework. “You bringing me food literally saved my day and I will grant you one wish as a reward.”

And Jim, exhausted, lonely and closer to the verge of tears than he would’ve liked, demanded cuddles.

In their years of living together Jim had never asked for cuddles. He always wanted to, but whatever physical affection he had a tendency to hand out to his friends like a way too common gift, he always stopped before they could get mad, and therefore always stopped before he felt satisfied.

“I just want a good fucking cuddle,” he was saying now, his tone too desperate for it to sound like a joke. Bones, bless him, didn’t comment on it.

“Let me take a shower and change,” he only said. “Trust me, you don’t want whatever my clothes have.”

Jim nodded, suddenly feeling too vulnerable, too exposed, so he ducked his head back down, eyes on his books. Listening to every sound Bones was making, thinking he was being both too quick and too slow, and when he finally returned Jim was fully aware of it, but pretending to be too engrossed in his work to notice.

“You wanna cuddle now or later?” Bones asked, so casual about it that Jim knew he’d never manage to get a single thing done for the rest of the night.

“Now,” he said, standing abruptly enough to nearly knock his chair down.

Bones grabbed it, his face a mix of amusement and concern. “Right then. The couch? Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Want to pick the movie?”

“You go ahead.”

“Okay.”

Jim tried to shake the sudden awkwardness out of his limbs as he followed his friend into the living room area of their tiny dorm, realizing this was probably a bad idea. They hadn’t even touched yet and he was acting like a total fool.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out, causing Bones to stop in his tracks. “I don’t know why I asked for it. I’m over it. I was just tired. We really don’t have to.”

“Jim.” Reaching out to grab Jim’s arms, Bones gave his flesh a squeeze. “Breathe. It’s fine that you asked for it and we don’t have to do it if you’ve changed your mind, but if I really didn’t want to myself I would’ve said so.”

Jim deflated. “Promise?”

“Jesus, you must be exhausted. Yes, promise.”

“It’s just that-” Jim wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain when Bones hadn’t asked for an explanation in the first place. “-I saw you at the hospital and you seemed so okay with being physically close to people and I feel like I might die if nobody holds me for, like, half an hour-”

“Jim.”

“-and I know it’s part of your job so I don’t want to overstep-”

“Please shut up for a sec.”

Jim did, but only because Bones had said please.

“I don’t necessarily enjoy having my personal space so violated,” he continued. “But of course I don’t mind you doing it. You’re my-”

“I know,” Jim said when Bones trailed off. They had no words to describe what they were. “So I shouldn’t be jealous?”

“Absolutely not, but mostly because you act like an idiot when you want something you think you can’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like a petulant child.”

“Oho, is that so?”

Bones ruffled his hair. “Go back to being timid. It was cuter.”

So maybe Jim didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in the movie and fell asleep in Bones’ arms ten minutes later, Bones’ fingers squeezing at various places on his body to get him to “relax for fuck’s sake”. Maybe he couldn’t picture himself falling asleep in an empty bed again for weeks. Maybe Bones was really fucking good at cuddling.

Waking up sweaty with Bones’ knee pressed to the small of his back later was a whole other thing. “Hhng. Get off.”

“You’re nearly on top of me.”

“Feels like I was hit by a truck.”

“You snore like a goddamn-”

Jim somehow managed to roll over and press his face into Bones’ neck. “Shh. Too loud.”

A spasm went through Bones’ body, convincing Jim he was trying to throw him off the couch and making him resort to clinging onto his torso for dear life. “N-no.”

“What was that?”

Bones was, miraculously, laughing.

Jim tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of his face, but he only succeeded in pressing the top of his head beneath Bones’ chin. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

Bones said something incoherent, his words slurred with sleep and higher in pitch with laughter. His hands were clawing at Jim’s back, unable to get a good grip of his shirt and therefore only managing to lightly tickle him, which was kinda nice actually.

Wait.

“Oh, this is tickling you,” Jim said, laughing into Bones’ skin as if this was a group activity. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” came the strangled denial.

“Hmm, I think you are. Otherwise this wouldn’t bother you.” He spidered his fingers up Bones’ side, noticing the squirming getting a notch more desperate the closer he came to his friend’s ribs. He paused just beneath them. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t react to this I’ll believe you’re not ticklish. Okay?”

“Jim, you fucking-”

Jim jabbed him in the ribs and nearly lost his hearing from the shriek that left Bones’ mouth.

“Ah, so you’re ridiculously ticklish, then?”

Bones cursed and managed to slip his arm out from beneath him, placing it against Jim’s chest, but not pushing him off.

“And you don’t mind this? I see.”

“I’m gonna kill you, James Tiberius-”

“Don’t you middle name me, Leo.”

Years passed. They graduated. Jim somehow became a captain and got a ship. Bones for some reason decided to work on said ship, bestowing Jim with his constantly shifting moods for the next five years. Not that he complained. Was literally doing the exact opposite. And, all the while their lives changed and kept changing, Jim kept tickling him nearly daily.

“Don’t fucking tickle me in front of others,” had been Bones’ one demand disguised as a request.

So Jim didn’t, but kept it behind closed doors as they always had. The image of Bones being physically close to others always prompting him to demand cuddles, now that he wasn’t ashamed of this dire need anymore. And, more often than not, he would slip his hands beneath Bones’ shirt and make him laugh uncontrollably for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how it had become a part of their routine, but he felt that if he didn’t get these intimate yet playful moments as often as he could he would shrivel up and die.

“You’re a drama queen,” Bones had said more than once when Jim had complained about them not having gotten any alone time.

“You literally beg me to stop when I’m barely even touching you,” Jim countered each time. “Don’t call me a drama queen when you’re just as bad.”

Bones would only wave a hand at him, having gotten out of the habit of blushing over his sensitivity years ago.

Something else that had become more common than they probably realized was how often Jim brought him food into medbay. Sometimes it was breakfast, snacks, his forgotten lunch or dinner. Other times it was just a drink, just as an excuse to stop by. Sometimes he came empty handed.

That day Bones truly had forgotten to eat, his empty seat painfully loud in the cafeteria. Jim knew his habits more than anyone and knew he wouldn’t eat unless food was visibly presented before him, and so he filled a tupperware with everything he knew Bones liked and skipped through the corridors, suddenly feeling like he was back at the Academy again.

Bones wasn’t alone, but he rarely was. The crowded hospital rooms had been replaced with him and Chapel dancing around each other, sometimes with more than one crew member present; arms and legs and chests and heads laid out for Bones’ magical fingers to heal, or so they hoped. Jim had lied there more times than he could count, so he was highly familiar with the nooks of this part of the ship.

Bones was standing on a stool, which made Jim stop in his tracks before he announced his presence, greeting dying on his lips and being replaced with a grin. Whatever Bones was trying to reach, it seemed to be just out of reach and he was grumbling as he kept stretching.

“Do you need a hand there?” Chapel asked, her tone playful while Bones let out an unprofessional curse.

“Can I borrow some heels?” he muttered, and she laughed, all familiarity due to working together in such close proximity for years. It wasn’t elbows in guts or naps in laps, but Jim recognized it from his crew on the Bridge. It was impossible to not grow close.

“It might help if I make you jump,” she continued.

“How the hell will you do that?”

Jim was almost proud of the fact that he didn’t let out any sound as he watched her reach out and poke at Bones’ ribs, just at the spot that could make him scream with laughter. It was a coincidence, it had to be a coincidence, how the hell could she know.

Bones didn’t squeal, but he didn’t pretend as if nothing was happening as he had learnt to do back in school, partly because back then people never meant to tickle you if they tried to get past you quickly and had to grab your waist. Chapel did indeed mean to make him squirm.

Jim watched his arms shoot down, swatting at her with a laugh so relaxed this really truly couldn’t have been the first time she tickled him. It really truly couldn’t.

Other people tickled Bones. Bones let other people tickle him.

He started backing away, lunch box forgotten when he literally bumped into Uhura who was coming from the opposite direction. The tupperware flew out of his hands as he let out a gasp in surprise, the food littering the floor only a second later. Things were a bit chaotic after that, but maybe because everything was overpowered by his frantically beating heart, that really had no business freaking out but there they were.

“I’m so sorry!” he heard Uhura say over his own incoherent babbling, the two of them crouching down to clean up the mess while Chapel and Bones kept repeating that “it’s fine, we have a broom, please get off the floor” that Uhura eventually listened to while Jim had to be pulled upright by Bones who was laughing, only to start frowning when he realized just how truly stressed out Jim was by the whole situation.

It wasn’t even about the food, but.

“I’ll go get you some more before they close the cafeteria,” he said, heart in his throat, threatening to spill out among the food on the ground, and who knew what that treacherous heart would reveal. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, leaving them be and rushing to the first restroom he could find, finally allowing himself to calm the fuck down and breathe.

What a stupid thing to get upset by, but.

He heard someone enter the room, causing him to press his body against the stall like a coward, but Bones’ voice rang clear anyway. “Jim?”

He didn’t reply.

“Come on, I know you’re in here.”

“I’m peeing.”

“Right, well, I’ll wait until you’ve finished.”

“Okay, I’m not peeing.”

“I know.” A beat, and, “Come out. Please.”

It was always the please that got him.

“Before you ask,” Jim said, exiting the stall. “I was gonna go get your food just after this stop.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about the food. I mean I do, and it was really nice that you brought me some, but it’s a slow day and I’ll be fine.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to see what was up with you.”

“With me?”

“You seem… I don’t know. Freaked out? Like something is wrong?”

“I see.”

“Jim.”

He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, looked anywhere but on Bones. “I don’t know. The whole situation sort of shook me and now I feel weird.”

“You spilling the food?”

“No. Jesus, no. Just-” He waved his hand in Bones’ general direction. “You being tickled by someone else. It was weird being an onlooker.”

“You’re acting like a disaster because of that?”

“Look, you know I’ve acted worse about tamer things.”

“You’re so stupid.”

Jim snorted, finally meeting his friend’s eye. “I’d love to have this conversation-”

“Stop lying.”

“-but I have to head back. Got a ship to run and all.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m bringing this up tonight.”

Jim patted his shoulder as he passed. “I’m counting on it.”

It didn’t mean that he was looking forward to it, however.

“Ugh, just get it over with,” he groaned when Bones entered his quarters, looking rather alert, pointing to a calm rest of the day.

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Bones deadpanned. “We’re gonna talk about my sensitive spots, after all.”

“I love your sensitive spots.”

“Focus.”

“I just thought it was something only I did to you, that’s all.”

“You got jealous?”

“Maybe a little?”

Bones relented. “You’re being-”

“Ridiculous, I know.”

“And kind of endearing, but I’ll only say that once.”

“You say many things once. Doesn’t mean I’ll forget them.”

“Oho, you’re kind of asking for it yourself, you know.”

Jim threw up his hands. “Tickle me, then. This whole day’s weird and backwards anyway.”

“You know I would never take your job.”

“Chapel did.”

“Oh, come on. As if you’ve never tickled anyone else before.”

Jim huffed, crossing his arms. “I never said my reaction was logical.”

“You gonna tickle me or not?”

“Are you asking me to?”

Bones did flush then, so rare nowadays. So wonderful. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

Jim barked out a laugh, already approaching him. “Stay still.”

“You know damn well I won’t.”

“I do, but it’s fun watching you struggle.”

“You sadist- wahait!”

Jim cornered him and pushed him down onto the couch, fingers already working over his hips, a spot he was certain no one else knew of. A spot that could make Bones scream so loud Jim had to stop out of fear of accidentally killing him.

Usually he was gentle, starting slow to make him giggle, but Bones had technically tickle cheated on him and that just wouldn’t do. Pinning him beneath his thighs, Jim dug into the sensitive spots, Bones’ clothes doing nothing to help him whatsoever.

Oh, how he laughed. Not a quick little inconvenienced laugh as he squirmed away, but a proper, desperate belly laugh. This was theirs and only theirs. Jim the only one Bones trusted to know this intimately. He was grabbing at Jim’s wrists now, but despite his strength he wasn’t pushing Jim away. Merely steadying himself.

Whatever they were and whatever they had, it always had and always would include this.

“I should tie you up and torture you,” Jim teased, even though he’d never immobilized him during this and only tickled him for a couple of minutes at a time, but Bones had once become a stuttering mess when Jim had threatened this and he did love a flustered Bones, after all.

He was laughing too hard to stutter, but the way he was shaking his head told Jim all he needed to know. His words had left a mark and whatever he did now, wherever he touched, would be more ticklish than usual.

He got to work.

#tickling #ticklish!bones #ticklish!mccoy #mckirk fic #mckirk #star trek fic #star trek #mine #tickle cheating #ana's fics #tickle fic

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seasonofthegeek · 4 years

Text

Drift Away, Part 3

Parts 1, 2, 3:

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

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

Bakugo simply hummed in response, seemingly lost in thought.

“What can you do?”

“Anything I fuckin’ want.”

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

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

“You want to know if I’m mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Bakugo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

“You’ll just slow me down.”

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

“Then walk around the cottage.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“Hah?”

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

“You’re going,” Bakugo growled.

“You can’t make me.”

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

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

“It’s not neat! It’s deadly!”

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

“Why do you call that bitch that?”

“What?”

“Ver.”

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

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

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

“What question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She was invincible to most attacks.”

“Yeah, no shit. We’re vampires.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know of Yaoyoruzo?”

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

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

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

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

“Definitely.”

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

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

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

“You did what you had to do.”

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

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

“Fuck off.”

“What? I do!”

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

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

“Then you’re an idiot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, free.

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

It would be easy to keep going now.

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

But he could just keep running.

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

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

The thought was tempting. So tempting.

But then there was Bakugo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buy me a cherry coke?

#kiribaku #eijiro kirishima #katsuki bakugo #vampire au #bnha #my hero academia

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Velvet and Coriander’s Honeymoon

New Earth, new me. That’s how it worked, right?

Yeah, I wanted to make the most of things, start a little fresh, brush my teeth more than once a week, all that jazz, but my sweet love and I were in a bit of a predicament: see, we were in the middle of a frozen wasteland with nothing in sight to hold us over. Well, if that’s how we would die...at least we’d die together (no, but seriously, I wish I had a plan or something. I miss my ship (and no, I don’t just mean the relation-ship, that’s going just fine, thank you very much) and being able to hack my way through problems. All this did was remind me how I was no good against the elements. Oh well, I wasn’t about to let it show how agitated I was).

“Hey babe, wanna make snow angels?” I asked my blue haired munchkin companion.

“Now is not the time,” she groaned.

“Right! ‘Cause you’re my snow angel!” I pointed finger guns. Shivering, shriveled finger guns.

“We’re going to die out here, you know,” she pointed out, as if it were a given. OK. So maybe it was. Just a little bit. But I didn’t want to think so. Going through all these lengths, raiding Area 51, defeating The Flashbulb, saving (one version of) the world, things couldn’t just end like that, could they?

“Nah, you’re going to die! From a snowball!” I crouched down and formed a ball, then threw it at her face. She wobbled over, but managed not to fall. That just shows how badass she’s gotten!

“Argh!” She stomped. “We’re both going to get frostbite and all our limbs are going to fall off and you want to have a snowball fight?!”

I shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea?”

She stared, all blank face. Not quite a poker face, more dumbfounded. Not to say she was dumb, though!

On the contrary, she scooped up a snowball and threw it, but I swerved out of the way and watched it fall just past me. She then wiped her hands and scoffed.

“All right, I’ve got an idea!” She ran up to me and wrapped her arms over my shoulders. “We’ll share body heat until we can find shelter.”

“Excellent idea, my blueberry comrade. I’ve read many a fic about this,” I gave her my sailor impression of approval.

“Can you please say something normal?”

I shook my head. “Negative, Captain. I’m only going to get more delirious the longer we’re out here.”

So we did. Yes, both of us. Choice quotes like:

“Chosen one? More like the frozen one.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a roasted marshmallow right now.”

“Nevada wouldn’t treat me this way.”

Anyone’s guess who said what. Our brains were more frozen than an ice cream addict’s overdose. If that even made sense. There was more than one instance where we collapsed over each other and shivered on each other. It was terrible. Kinda hot, not gonna lie, but terrible.

Lucky for us, salvation came in the form of some small, yellow lights. I saw it about the same time time Coriander did, but she was the one to point it out. She leaned on my shoulder and jumped up.

“Look! Look!”

“Ow, ow!” I replied, as if that was the only reply I could give to her.

We followed the light. Of course, for all we knew, it could have been a car or a train (ha, who ever heard of trains in a place like that?) about to run us over. Just my luck, right? But it was our best bet, and any form of luck was good enough for me. As we approached it with each stilted step and kicked back the snow in front of us, we noticed that it was a building.

Like one of those log cabins you’d find on syrup bottles, it had the whole chimney smoke and everything. We trudged on over and each step closer was a step closer to living for one more day.

“Maybe Santa lives here?” Coriander suggested.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe that stuff,” I shot back.

“You’re just being grinchy cause you’ve been naughty.”

“N...No…” My teeth started to chatter. Wind blew as we were almost there. “I’ve been sexy, there’s a difference. Besides, saving the world should, like, offset any bad thing I’ve ever done.”

When we reached the door, we both shoved our way in and collapsed on the floor. Right on top of each other. Both of us were numb and in shock. Meanwhile…

“Oh great! I just swept the floor, too!”

We both looked up and saw someone with flowing seaweed green hair and a little shorter than Coriander.

“Sorry, we, uh…” Great. It wasn’t like I could just explain “we hopped universes and landed here, oopsies.” I had to assess the situation, figure out where I was at, and then act accordingly. Just as I always did. If I knew one thing about how things worked, it was that a little bit of observation went a long way. So I shoved Coriander aside (lovingly) and wobbled on up. I was still in a bit of shock and felt all dizzy and sick upon standing up.

I winced. As I tried to look around, my eyes were full of static. Then came the uncontrollable shakes and shivers. Soon, the image of the place came into view; at first a blur, but then a wooden counter took shape, and my eyes darted around the room. People came into view, just a few, but it was something. Booths, tables, and that’s when I realized where I was at.

“Is this a tavern?” I asked, my voice came as more of a hurried breath as I tried to speak again.

“Close. I mean, we serve drinks. Here, just seat yourself,” the young woman replied before walking toward the back of the room. Before she could get far, Coriander also managed to pick herself up and call after her.

“H...Hey! What about a heated blanket?!” She was also a shivering mess. We both looked ready to turn into little icebergs, though too small to sink any ships.

“That’s not on the menu,” she replied, rather rude at that. Well, I’d say so, but that also made sense. Who would want to eat a blanket?

Both of us took our stilted strides to the nearest booth on our right and sat down next to each other. We huddled together and held each other, hoping it would alleviate some of what we were going through.

“Can’t believe how rude she was,” Coriander muttered.

“I don’t know. Kinda reminds me of you,” I said back to her, which I could tell by her face that she was quite offended by such a remark. I mean, it wasn’t that I disagreed about the rudeness, but for me it was just something I was used to dealing with.

“Look, we may have been lucky in the past, but that doesn’t mean everyone we meet is going to be nice,” I reminded her.

“Still wouldn’t kill her to get us something to warm us up,” she grumbled.

Point well taken. For me, and the journey I’ve been on, I’ve learned to more or less take what I could get and sometimes that meant I got really lucky, but other times, it was just barely enough to get by. That wasn’t to say that life was easy for her, either, but through the course of my life, I just learned to be more pragmatic with my approach to things.

“Oh great, now there’s PDA,” I heard the complaint of little miss seaweed as I turned and saw her storm on over. She seemed to notice now the kind of condition we were in and jumped in place, then turned her head to the side.

“Look, uh...I didn’t really realize...jeez. Sometimes I don’t notice things, okay? So how about something hot to drink on the house?” She sounded real uncomfortable and as she looked away, I glanced and saw her slide a menu down at the table. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t any more comfortable than she was. Like, it’s not exactly paradise going through the stages of hypothermia, but what can you do, eh? Instead of some snarky remark, I just came up with the first thing to pop into my head.

“I’ll take a hot chocolate,” my words came out like a wheeze, just shy of hoarse. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, gimme coffee!” Coriander just about coughed up a roar.

“You get too energetic when you get coffee!” I reminded her.

“Do not! Anyway, I’ll have a mocha.”

That seemed like a fair compromise. Couldn’t really argue there.

“Got it,” she jotted down on her notepad. “One hot chocolate for Pippi Longstalking and one mocha for Blue Raspberry Starburst. I’ll have that out in a jiff.”

“Well, at least we know those things exist in this timeline,” I scoffed.

“Hey, you can’t just be talking about timelines willy-nilly,” Coriander scolded this time. “We don’t know what references we can and can’t make. What if we say something and it doesn’t make any sense to them?”

I shrugged.

“I’d be used to it.”

As we sat, I felt my body start to warm up a little. Taking in the atmosphere of the room, the warm and cozy air, I couldn’t help but be reminded of another instance where I was at a diner after almost dying from the elements. It seemed like I was a lot worse for wear back then. What with managing to escape a government facility within an inch of my life only to collapse from heat exhaustion. No friends to get me by, no idea where my ship was. If it wasn’t for being taken in by a nice middle aged lady I didn’t know if I’d still be around.

It’s kind of a funny thought now, because it seems like, at least on the surface, that the current situation wasn’t far removed from that time: I didn’t have an experimental aircraft to escape in, not anymore. I was ill-equipped for the cold, and most of the friends that I’ve made I’ve had to part with. But I think I consider myself lucky, that even if I had nothing else, even if I had been on the brink of death, at least I had Coriander with me.

The longer I thought of all that, the contrast between then and now, the whole trade off...I couldn’t help myself but lean over and give Coriander a kiss on the cheek. Even if my lips were cracked, and her cheeks already matched the color of her hair. As life returned to her, there was a bit of a rosiness, but it was clear it would take some time for both of us to warm up.

As soon as I pulled away she sunk her head.

“Here? Now? There’s people...and…”

“Worth it,” I stopped her, feeling rather triumphant.

I noticed someone approach, and I figured it would be Miss Seaweed with our drinks, but instead it was some tall buff lady with short, dark brown hair. She threw a blanket at us.

“I know what it’s like to be cold,” she told us, as if that wasn’t just some random act that required introduction. I should’ve been like “now do that again, but gently this time,” but I kept quiet. For my own sake.

We pulled the blanket down and I looked up. While she didn’t look like someone you’d wanna mess with, her overall look on her face was one of boredom. Or dejection? Exhaustion? Maybe it was just her Default Face. No shame there. I knew how that could be.

“Thank you, miss,” I did my best to be polite.

“Remora,” she informed me.

“Hm?” I was confused, but then I gave it some thought. “Oh! Your name!”

She gave a short nod.

“You can just call me…” I was gonna be real honest, I didn’t know how I was going to introduce myself to someone on a new Earth. It was a time to start fresh, so I could pick out a new name if I wanted to. “Plush?” I said at last, and figured that would suffice.

“Huh?” Coriander turned to me. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. Just call me Corduroy,” she told Remora. It worked.

As Remora turned away, I looked respectfully for a few seconds, then turned back to Coriander and sneered. “You should’ve said your name was Octillery.”

“Maybe I’m saving that one for a special occasion, you don’t know me,” Coriander defended, as if there was really anything to defend. Soon after, I looked down at the menu. There was the usual diner food. French toast, pancakes, hash browns, the like. But then there was some weird ones, like spaghetti and croque madame.

“I think I’d just like some eggs and toast,” I muttered. Weird as it was, my appetite just didn’t ask for much at the moment. Usually I could eat a truck load of fat, but maybe it was situation at hand that really made me not very hungry.

“How about this?” Coriander nudged. “Tartiflette?”

If only I had an encyclopedic knowledge of food, I’d have had an opinion. Instead, I suggested.

“Why don’t you order it and try it out?”

“No,” she disregarded. “I don’t want to order something and find out I don’t like it.”

“Then get something you know you’ll like?”

“No way! That’s too safe!”

I sighed. I couldn’t disagree, but I didn’t know what to tell her, either. Then again, I just realized one significant fact: neither of us had money.

“Psst, wanna dine and dash for old time’s sake?” I muttered to Coriander.

Before Coriander could answer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I just about slapped that hand away, when I looked up and saw it was Remora.

“Don’t even think about it. If you need to pay for your meal, take this,” she handed me a stack of cash.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you,” I blinked, as I flipped through the bills as if they were a deck of cards. Nice, but a little too nice. Like, who just gives away that much money?!

“Not really. It’s just less of a hassle than dealing with another redhead trying to rob the place,” she replied, as if that was some kind of regular occurrence.

I watched her walk away once more while humming what sounded like “Let It Go” or some bootleg version (or maybe on this version of Earth, their version was the superior one. Who’s to say?) of it.

Then Seaweed (that’s what I’d call her) came back with our drinks. We both thanked her, and Coriander took her cup and tried chugging it down before spitting it out.

“Ack! Too hot!”

“Why? Why would you just...who does that?!” Ol’ Seaweed over there balked. “Now I have to clean that! What a waste of a perfectly good drink!”

“Sorry about that,” I spoke on behalf of my other. “She can be a little impulsive sometimes.”

“Me?! Impulsive?! You’re the impulsive one!” Coriander protested.

“Not denying that, but I also know things.”

“Hey! I be knowing too!”

“Ugh...are you two ready to order or are you going to continue your comedy duo routine?” Seaweed groaned.

“I’ll just have some scrambled eggs and toast,” I told her.

“Yeah? Can I get a name for your order?”

Ooh. Should I have gone with Plush again or change it? Hmm...I wasn’t really committed to Plush.

“Parsley,” I said after some thought.

“Okay, what about you…?” She addressed Coriander.

“Yeah, so here’s the deal: I’d like to order a Gratin Dauphinois. I’d also like a BLT, and a turkey club, and a cinnamon roll. And just call me Cardamom.”

Seems the reason I didn’t have much of an appetite was because Coriander had stolen mine.

“Oh sure, do you want me to feed you grapes while you’re at it?” Seaweed scoffed.

“Not a bad idea,” Coriander snapped her fingers.

“Ugh...I bet those aren’t even your real names...but I can’t be assed to care.”

I nudged Coriander.

“Heh, she reminds me of you. Short and full of attitude.”

“No way! I’ve got a good few inches on her!” Coriander bragged.

Our gracious waitress chimed in with a groaned, “size doesn’t matter.”

Both Coriander and I laughed at that, while she went off to pass along our order to the cook.

While we waited, we had a good few minutes to collect our thoughts.

“Realistically, while it’s good to warm up and get some food in us, we will have to leave before too long,” I explained as I leaned forward. “We just need to figure out where we are, where the nearest landmarks are, and plan accordingly. If we can find a city, even better.”

“Or worse,” Coriander eyed me. “Sure, more people who could help us, but that also means more people who probably won’t. Sure, there’d be food and shelter, but more than likely, those things would cost money. Even with the money that Ramona gave us, that’s sure to run out before long. What then? Get jobs? Like hell. Plus, we don’t even got ID, so not even an option.”

I didn’t bother correcting her on that person’s name, and focused on the rest of the argument instead.

“OK, Sour Grapes. Maybe it’s good to have reality checks every now and then, but we’re also getting a nice meal and at the moment, warm. We’ve managed to last this long, so we ought to figure something out, right?”

“Yeah,” she slumped over the table and stretched her arms out across it. “But I don’t know what. We’re both the brains of this operation, but right now my brain’s got nothing.”

“That’s the thing, though: neither of us know anything right now. We don’t know what part of this world we’re on or what’s different about it than the world we’re used to. Let’s just ask the waitress a few basic questions, start from there?”

We agreed to that, and once Seaweed came back with our food, I started.

“Hey, what year is it?” I asked.

She leaned her head back and looked all confused. “It’s...the current year?”

“Oh, thank you. I know, obvious thing to ask, right? Like, who doesn’t know what year it is?” I peppered in. Under normal circumstance, such a question would never have come up.

At least now I knew that it was current year, and that was a start.

She set both our plates down. Then ran back toward the kitchen, grabbed a couple more plates, and returned it to Coriander.

“What about where we are?” I asked the waitress. “We’re, like, totes lost, dude,” as if that lessened the damage.

“Hmm...honestly, I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s like between Northern Canada and Greenland, but not really in either of those places. Kind of a gray area, y’know?”

Well, that didn’t help too much, but I at least had a general idea of the time and place.

Coriander dug into her potato thing, and then bowed her head.

“Finally, some good fucking food,” she sounded so relieved, then continued to chomp away.

Rather than eat, I couldn’t help but wonder a few more things. Even though I knew the waitress wouldn’t have a clue what I’d be talking about, I found myself thinking out loud.

“I wonder if there’s anyone I know in this timeline. There might be a Blanc, but I’m not sure where I’d even look. I also know there’s a version of Juniper here. I wonder how she’s doing.”

“Juniper? I have a cousin named Juniper,” our waitress replied to me. I was shocked to find her respond to my thoughts, but I was intrigued all the same.

“Yeah? I wonder if it’s the same one I’m thinking of…”

“Probably not!” Coriander chimed in, mouth full of gooey potato. She took one big gulp, then added, “there’s more than one person on Earth with the name Juniper. There’s at least, like, eleven people with that name. Probably.”

“Maybe more,” I agreed.

“Yeah, good point,” the waitress seemed to agree as well. “That was a little silly on my part. It’s like if someone were to talk about their good friend Dennis and me going ‘hey, I have a cousin named Dennis’, as if that isn’t a common name. I don’t have a cousin named Dennis, just so you know.”

“Cool. Lore,” I made a mental note. No Dennis. Got it. “What is your name, by the way? I’ve been calling you Seaweed in my head, but I feel like I ought to call you by your actual name.”

“Wow, I hate you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m Demetria.”

“I mean, that’s close to Dennis, if you think about it,” I tried to ease the tension.

“Hm. I see your point. That, or I’ve stopped caring altogether.”

I shrugged in response, as if to say that I also couldn’t care less one way or the other. At least a mutual apathy could go a long way, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of relations. Now that we had a starting off point, I had to get down to brass tacks.

“Say, Lil D –” I began, before she interrupted me.

“Don’t call me that. And what?”

“I’m curious where your cousin Juniper lives. Think you could point me in the right direction?”

She seemed taken aback by the question. Understandable, really, but from how things have went so far, I knew she’d answer regardless.

“Look, I don’t know what your family’s like, but I’m not, like, close with my cousins. They’re distant relatives, why would I need to think about them? They only cross my mind when I think about how I have a gay cousin, but that’s it.”

Gay cousin. How interesting. Sounds a bit like the chipper and quite gay Juniper I knew, but then again, there could be other gay Junipers in the world. Then again, she could have more than one cousin. That seemed rather obvious.

“Why do you wanna know, anyway?” She peppered in that last question. It might have been the question I was waiting for, but now that she asked it, I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

My mind went through several avenues, most of which involved lying. My true objective was flimsy at best, as I was just going off of a hunch, and if nothing else, wanted a destination in mind for where to head.

“Tell me, Demetria,” my mind settled on deflection as the best method. “You’re a waitress for a diner in the middle of nowhere. What’s your story?” “Not really much to it,” she shrugged. “I just found this place and I work here.”

“Oh, come on, now. I can tell you’re not from around here, and no waitress in the middle of nowhere doesn’t have a tale to tell unless they’re from the area. You at least have to admit, this is a rather boring job, wouldn’t you say? Didn’t you ever have any goals in life?”

“I...err…” She started to tense up. Great. Sometimes conversations really did seem like a delicate process, like trying to crack open a safe. “My goals are far too complex. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She looked around the room, then cleared her throat.

“Well, you see...I want to be swept up off my feet by a strong woman. Maybe body slammed, too. But not just any strong woman,” she looked around then lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Remora.”

I closed my and waved about my hands while giving off a rather smug smile.

“Say no more, say no more,” a certain Monty Python skit came to mind as I said those words. “I can relate. You see, there’s this lady named Juniper, and we go way back. You could say she was the one who got away. Now, your cousin may be some average June, but I’m willing to take my chances in order to see her again.”

That seemed to distress her, as she looked at Coriander, then back at me. Then back at Coriander.

“Aren’t...you two…?”

“Oh yeah. Totally. And I love her to death, but it’s more like, I want closure, y’know? It’s been years now, but every month of June, my heart aches, and I want to put this to rest.”

“...She’s got a wife, you know.”

My heart skipped a beat. I felt the hairs of my arms stand on end and little goosebumps formed. But this wasn’t a frightened shock, more of a “well, if this is the Juniper I’m familiar with, that’s wonderful news! I wonder who the lucky lady is” kind of shock.

“I recall something like that, actually!” I snapped my fingers. “She sent me an invitation to the wedding, but I never received it.”

“Weird. I figured you guys must not have talked for years or something,” she remarked.

“You’re right, though we talked briefly a couple years back, and she considered us still friends, I just wasn’t very good at getting back with her, and then I lost my phone, and haven’t had a new one since, so I can’t even be like ‘new phone, who this?’”

“That’s rough. I mean, not that I really know. I just cut ties with my only friend recently…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she waved her hand aside. “I’ve never been all that good at the whole friends thing.”

“I consider us friends.”

“Stop. We just met.”

Well, it was worth a try. Now, back on topic.

“The invitation’s always open. If you need an ear, or a shoulder. The rest of me belongs to the one sitting next to me.”

‘Right, well, anyway, I don’t really know where she lives, so tough luck there. All’s I know is the city she lives in, and fat chance finding her in a big city like that.”

Oh, but my goal is the city itself, I thought, as if I were some evil genius.

“What city is that?”

“I’ll write it down for you, but I want something out of this too. I don’t work for free...well, actually I do, but I’d rather not think about that.”

Right. Disregarding that last bit, out of courtesy, there was the matter of a bargain. Squid pro quo, the like. At the least, I’d need to hear her out, even if I wasn’t going to be able to fulfill her request.

“What do you have in mind? I’d like to remind you we kind of don’t have anything right now.”

“Nah, that’s whatever. I just wanna know...how’d you end up with someone?”

I stifled back laughter. No disrespect intended, but I just wasn’t expecting something like that.

“Shit, I dunno. I just raided Area 51 one day and stole her along with a UFO.”

That explanation caused her to roll her eyes.

“Be serious. Tell me really.”

And that is why I usually don’t tell the truth. Stranger than fiction and all that bullshit.

“All right, you got me. We met at a state fair and bonded over…” C’mon, Velvet. Think, think. “Deep fried Doritos. She said something like, ‘I never met anyone as passionate about...doritos...as you’ or something like that, I’m hazy on the details.”

Coriander overheard and decided she wanted in on the elaborate ruse.

“Hey, I remember that day! I was pissed at you because you ran over my four foot possum’s tail with your dirt bike!”

“I swear, your possum’s tail was as long as a boa constrictor, no wonder it got ran over!” I retorted. Not gonna lie, I was having fun.

“That’s enough,” Demetria cut us both off short. “There’s no way I’m ever gonna be in a situation like that, so I think I’ll just stick to pining from afar.”

“Aw, keep your chin up. Those things can be unpredictable.”

“That’s for sure. Anyway, a deal’s a deal.” I watched as she took out a pen and flipped over her notepad. On a new sheet of paper, she jotted down the name of the city and tore the sheet off the notepad and handed it to me. Also at the bottom of the sheet was a price. In other words, the check.

I flipped through the stacks of cash gifted to me from tall, dark, and awkward and pulled out a few bills. After I handed them to Demetria, she left, and I turned my attention toward Coriander.

“Here’s our next destination,” I pointed to the name of the city on the sheet of paper.

“Yeah, but how are we going to get there?” She asked. Good question. Rather astute.

“There’s got to be an airport nearby. We just head there, and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”

“Okay, but where’s the airport?”

“Uhh…”

We wouldn’t have to wait long for our answer. Who approached us next was a slim man with a tuxedo and short, black hair. He strolled with careful strides, as if each step had a purpose. Before he uttered a word to either of us, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses, rubbed the lenses with a cloth, then put them on.

“Good afternoon, ladies. I hope your meal has been well. I am the owner, Ray Sunshine. Please let me know if you need anything.”

I waved my hand away.

“Yeah, Raymond? Can I call you Raymond? Look, this meal has been fab,” note: I haven’t even taken a bite of what I ordered. “But I’ve got a lot on my plate. Some bloke stole my rental car, and I was only renting it to get to the airport. Now, my body’s built pretty tough, I’ve eaten my spinach, but I’m hopeless without a GPS, so I’m a little unsure how I’m going to get to the airport now.”

He squinted at us, and then let out a soft chuckle.

“You guys can’t hustle me. Not only that, it’s unnecessary. There’s a hatch in the kitchen which leads to our basement. That’s where we brew all our ales. You’ll find a load of barrels down there. In the back of the basement, there’s a door which leads to a tunnel. You follow that tunnel all the way through and at the end of the tunnel is another flight of stairs is another hatch which leads to the airport.”

“Why do you have something like that in your basement?” I asked, though it was rather convenient. The whole thing reminded me of the set up I had when I lived underneath that university.

“Let’s say it’s come in handy when a few deals have gone sour.”

“I see. And you’re just gonna let us go through there. I mean, I appreciate it, but why?”

He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“Maybe I’m feeling generous,” he walked away after that.

Soon after our meal, we got up and headed to the kitchen. Inside was a little kid stirring a big pot.

“Oh, didn’t expect to see any kids around here,” I remarked. The kid looked at me.

“No customers allowed! I’m making myself gumbo!”

An older woman, curly brown hair, tank top, and all muscle stood beside the kid.

“Now Tigershark, Ray said it was okay,” she told the kid.

“Oh, OK! But only because the penguin boss said so!”

Heh. Penguins.

“Name’s Sunny, by the way. Shame we didn’t get more of a chance to talk,” she extended her hand toward me. I shook it, then looked at her respectfully before letting go. Coriander did the same.

We opened the hatch and began our way down. I waved to Sunny and Tigershark before I reached the bottom.

“Next time I’ll try your gumbo!” I told Tigershark.

“And we should have an eating contest! Or wrestle!” Sunny’s excitement couldn’t be contained by words alone.

After our long trek through the tunnel, we arrived in the airport and bought a couple of donuts at one of the airport bakeries. Then, we took our flight to the city where Juniper lived. We didn’t know what we’d find there, but it was a start. While on the flight, I turned to Coriander.

“Well, here’s to our honeymoon,” I smiled and spoke as if those were words of reassurance.

“That was a honeymoon? Wait. What’s a honeymoon?” She asked me.

Before I could answer, she fell asleep.

Look, I was tired. It was a long day, we almost froze to death, I ate my weight in food, I’m pretty sure anyone would be tired. Make sense? Good. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s skip the boring details. We made it to the city, bought more donuts once there, met up with the Trent of this new timeline (he was just as plain as ever. He didn’t know who I was, which I thought was quite rude until I remembered the whole timelines thing. After I explained a bit, he asked if Velvet and I wanted to play D&D, but we really didn’t. So he gave us directions to where Juniper lived, along with someone else, think he said West or something. I dunno), then headed over to where this Juniper person lived.

Considering we met up with Trent, it was almost guaranteed that this was who we thought it was, which was good news for Velvet. I couldn’t care less, as long as there was food and a place to crash. But she was cute, so I guess that’s a good enough reason, too. However, when Velvet knocked on the door to this Juniper’s apartment, instead, a different familiar face opened the door.

“Verse?” Velvet asked. “What are you doing here?”

Yes. In front of us was the same familiar tall aloof woman with terrible posture (seriously, that hunched look couldn’t have been good for her back). Shoulder length strawberry blonde, round glasses. Yes, I know. It could’ve been like, alternate version. But…

“Guys? How did you get here?” She asked, her eyes wide, all astonished.

Once Velvet heard the confirmation she needed, she got all excited and started jumping up.

“We did it! We defeated The Flashbulb! You were right, which sucked, we couldn’t save our world, but I mean, we accomplished one impossible thing, and there’s a new timeline somewhere out there now. We didn’t just wanna stay there, all lonesome, so we decided to look for a timeline we weren’t already in. Y’know, to not kill ourselves or whatever. I know you wanted us to protect Juniper, but we couldn’t take her with us, as there was already a version of her here, and really, it was her idea not to come along, so please don’t be too mad at her.”

She stood, stunned. Most likely trying to take everything in.

“Well, that sure was long winded,” Verse remarked at last. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Aw, c’mon! We missed you! Is that any way to treat your friends?”

“No, but, how did you find me?”

“Oh, we met Trent and he told us Juniper lived here, so we’re surprised to find you instead. Not disappointed, though.”

I glanced behind Verse and there stood Juniper, near the door. Same old chipper pigtail self.

“Uh…” I tugged at Velvet’s sleeve.

“Oh! Juniper’s here too!” Velvet waved with utter excitement, then turned back to Verse. “So Verse, what happened to seeing your wife?”

In the background I could hear Juniper snicker.

“Guys…” Verse began, but Velvet didn’t give her much time. That, and she looked rather uncomfortable, so I wasn’t sure if she would have said anything else anyway.

“Yeah, I get it. Relationships can be tough. So lemme guess: things didn’t work out between you two, but Juniper took you in and let you crash at her place?”

“Guys…” This time she sounded annoyed and she spoke through grit teeth.

Velvet got silent and everyone else was silent. But that silence didn’t last, as Juniper broke into laughter.

“I don’t know what’s going on but this is too much!” She had her hands on her knees and couldn’t stop. We all turned our attention toward Juniper. Verse as well, and she balked.

“Babe! Can’t you explain for me?” She threw her hands down and her face got red.

“Babe?” Velvet and I asked in unison, the both of us confused as hell. Then I think it clicked for the both of us at the same time. “Ohhh…”

“No, no! It’s okay!” Juniper continued laughing, then teased. “Verse.”

Verse, or whatever her name was, hung her head low and walked back into the apartment in utter embarrassment. Then, Juniper walked over and welcomed us.

“Hey, come on, in! Why not?”

We walked inside and I plopped down on the sofa. Arms crossed, I already made myself at home. It was a humble little apartment, dimmed lights, blinds down. Very little in the way of decoration or furniture.

Our embarrassed old friend sat at a chair across from me, her hands in her face. Guess it must’ve been too much to take in at once.

“So I suppose I should give you two the rundown. My name’s not Verse, it’s Ves. Short for Vesuvius,” she told Velvet and I once she composed herself. “Juniper and I are, well, you know.”

“Damn, that sure explains why you were acting so funky when we met you,” Velvet remarked.

“Well, there were other reasons for back then, too...sorry about that.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it,” Velvet brushed it off.

“You can make it up to us by letting us crash at your guys’ place,” I butted in. “Otherwise, we gotta sleep out on the streets and are you sure you want that?”

“Um…” I could tell how hesitant about it was, I mean, we just barged right in and decided it was our city now. I get it.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m letting these people I just met stay with us!” Juniper remarked.

“You don’t have to,” Ves argued.

“Oh, no. We’re gonna. Now, who wants quiche?”

So it was decided, and even though I didn’t know what ‘keesh’ was, I still accepted. Hell, it was cool that we got to sleep on a couch. True couchsurfing at its best right there.

Once the night came to an end and the other couple went to bed, Velvet and I slept on each other on the couch. She remarked about the day as a whole before falling asleep.

“You know, this isn’t the worst possible outcome.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

#short story #gift for a friend #jk theres not a honeymoon #happiness overload #remoras full #crossover #memes #happy new year #all that jazz

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weebwholikesyaoiandshipsboys · 4 years

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I legit finished watching The Promised Neverland, which just straight up hurt my hurt, made me wanna cry, and kill myself internally. I feel bad for Phil, like, he’s just 4 years old?!?! And he’s so cute, I swear if he didn’t make it out, I’m gonna cry until the day I die.

Also, like, please don’t hate on this, but like I lowkey ship Norman and Ray, but that only happened because I read a lot of yaois and bls, so like, the hell am I supposed to do now??? Now I want to draw Norman x Ray ya’ll. And I freakin SIMP for all of them. Something must be wrong with me.

The ending made me want to twist my body and shrivel up and die.Like, what is life now T-T It sucked me up and made me space out and think of so many things about it for like an hour. Just spacing out. And doing nothing. Like, ya’ll do that to right? You guys totally do.

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riversnthedesert-blog · 4 years

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Some Real Talk on Hollywood and the Deep Things in Life

Well, I was originally going to slide this in as a Facebook post, but I had this sudden idea to just make it a blog post. The first of many, let’s hope! There have been so many times where I have started to comment/make a post, etc., and then I began writing a novel. But, it’s called Face “book,” so you think it’d be ok, right? Listen, I have thoughts. Don’t you? One thought here, another there, and then my mind be like, “OH! Forgot about that...and YEAH! That, too!”…and a lot of the time it’s easier to just write and get my thoughts out that way rather than speaking it. It’s a relief, man! Write ya mind. It would suffice to say there’s a lot that goes on up there. Better log it quick because as soon as I have something important...here cometh something else. Ah, feelings, the mind, expressions, inner things, brain files....

So, now that you, reader, have become acquainted with my thought processes, because you desperately needed to know...let’s get to the content.

You guys pray for Hollywood. There are some really creepy things going on behind the scenes….and creepy is an understatement, as I’d do well to keep it kosher in my description. Many things would shock you. But if one isn’t awake so to speak…or one isn’t open to hear in full, there’s confusion. If I could compare it to a puzzle: it’s like there’s all these pieces to a big puzzle. And until someone is ready to sit down and actually put it together, it’s just all these random pieces everywhere...and it’s messy and annoying. You must be willing to sit, observe the pieces, and study them because by themselves they don’t fit anywhere. And since you don’t know what to do with it, it just sits there, and never gets connected; the bigger picture never gets seen. This all might seem confusing, because you haven’t yet sat down to solve the puzzle. Let’s me just say...I don’t have 100% of the puzzle solved, but there are certain things that have been brought to light. But if we go back to the puzzle analogy, if you put together enough pieces of a particular part of the puzzle,you may not see all the details, but you see enough to maybe see, “Oh this is puzzle has a cat in it.” In the case for Hollywood, you might get to a place where you’ll say, “Oh, this puzzle has a rat.” It may seem like I am just finding something to poke at or what have you, but listen:

The Bible says, “be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)” and in Ephesians 5:8-13, it says, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness, and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible--and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.”

The Bible in different places talk about knowing wisdom (of God), being discerning, and having knowledge. Jesus said in Matthew 10:16, “Behold, I send you out as sheep among wolves, therefore be wise as serpents and gentle as doves.”

With that in mind, it’s important to note that we shouldn’t be unaware of the devil’s schemes. We should know our enemy’s tactics in order to guard against it. So when we see the deception, the lies, the fake news, the idolatry, the game of distraction, and materialism and fame, the plan of the enemy to sway hearts deceitfully and subtly for his kingdom, we are prepared and not caught off guard.

[Later, hopefully, I will try to discuss this more in depth at as it relates to the Antichrist agenda that is at work in the world by globalist leaders.]

Getting to the point here:

Pray for your favorite celebrities. God has an army, but so does the devil. God wants to recruit, but so does the the devil. One is Light, one masquerades as light, but is actually darkness. One is good, one appears good. One is true, one is the counterfeit.

Please hear me. The world’s biggest influencers are definitely a target of Satan because they have the platform to be able to change an entire culture. How does this happen? MUSIC, ART…things that grip the HEART. Things that speak to the deepest places in people, the places of pain, emptiness, woes of many kinds. Why is this such a soft spot for the human race? Why are most songs about love and pain? I mean, why is music the language that everyone understands? We’re about to get into that.

[Disclaimer: I don’t know everything, and I don’t claim to. But with evidence from the Bible (God’s word), and when hings that were once just an idea or only talked about begin blatantly flaunting themselves in plain sight, you tend to not just tuck it away hoping that what you saw wasn’t real. With that being said, here we go.]

It’s not hard to find the answer if you really wanna know (read Matthew 7:7). Our inmost being cries out for LOVE. But, hey man, why does love in this world seem to suck a lot of the time? Could it be that we’re going about it all wrong? Could it be that we’re hitting something, but haven’t quite dug it all up to actually see what it is? Love is real, ok. Love is DEEP and beautiful and poetic and all those things, but love is meant to be JOYFUL, though. Does this world see much real, raw, joyful love? Romanticism? Yes. Infatuation? You bet. Any idea how to sustain a marriage? Look at the divorce rate. What is that all about, my friends? Does anyone know what love is anymore? There are SONGS about this. People want to know, though. Their souls try out to know...WHAT THE HECK IS THIS LOVE THING THAT TAKES ME OVER AND THEN LEAVES ME BROKEN AND WASHED UP ON THE SHORE TO SHRIVEL UP AND DIE?Okay, we’re getting somewhere, but in order to go any further, we must admit: Something is wrong, perverted, amiss, broken, disturbed, frustrated...yet, we gotta have it in order to LIVE. This is crazy revelation, right? Fasten your seat belts, people, and as Samuel L. Jackson said in Jurassic Park, “Hold on to your butts!”

So we have just come to the point of realization that someone is doing something wrong. Right? *heh*

First step. Admitting something is wrong.

But chin up fam, there’s no shame. Because the world’s just trying to do the best they can with what they’ve got. It’s like survival mode. And you know animals when they try to find their food to survive...they kill, they go crazy to get their essentials. Dog eat dog world, am I right? The CARNAL mind. Did you know humans have carnal minds, too? Yeah, it’s a thing. The carnal mind deals with the flesh (aka: how we compensate without God. Doing life without Him...either on purpose or ignorantly. Survival mode, because if I don’t fend for myself, I’m at risk of dying. Fear mode. The twisted mentality that my desire (the heart) has to be met before I am fully satisfied.

And the Bible says, “Those who are in [operating out of] the flesh cannot please God. (Romans 8:8)

K. Well, wait a minute, that sounds rather harsh.

Hold on, though because I’m going to explain and bring more clarity.

What is the opposite of the flesh? You might argue, “So if the flesh is all we know...what the heck, man! Like, I have desires, don’t you? I gotta give up my happiness and all that brings me joy?”

No bruh, not exactly. See, if someone is living in the flesh, they are living in an illusion. The illusion that if they “meet their desires themselves [based on their limited power and understanding as a human being of what it is they want/need]. Living based on the flesh will keep someone in a hopeless cycle of temporary fulfillment which will lead, eventually, to a state of deprivation, disappointment, and (un)fulfillment because they are depriving themselves of the SOURCE of their life.

What’s the source, you ask? Who made you and knows what you truly desire and need; what’s at core of your heart. Who knows how it operates? Who saw your unformed body? (Please friends, I’m begging you to read Psalm 139)

Does God just want take away our desires to rob us of delight and a fun, abundant life, just because? Does He want to see us thrive?

Men, women, young and old, children of all ages. I’d like to introduce you to my Father in Heaven who is a God of GOODNESS. He is Spirit. And the nature of his Spirit are aaalll of these

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

God is good. Anything not good is contrary to His nature.

Sin = not good. What is sin? Woah! Another post, for another time.

I have suffieciently dove into the deep end. There are rabbits hopping everywhere because my mind has gone down so many trails to explain this all to you. There’s more.

*Self notes: post to be made on flesh desires and God desires.

[Or read Romans 8]

Wrapping up our discussion with some further thoughts:

If the world doesn’t know the power and love of Jesus, they’re just trying to figure it out and compensate. We did something important earlier. We recognized we have been going about love all wrong. God wants to show us how to do it right, but He won’t force us. Instead, He lovingly leads, allows His children to live out the love they have received through Him. “We love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19-21)” HA! Let me say it again. Love is not to be forced. Not saying that there isn’t sacrifice involved in love because there is, but when it’s properly received and you do it the right way, it looks like Jesus on the Cross.

Gotta go to the Book with this. 1 Corinthians 13. Love.

*All kinds of things are stirring up in me because I know some are going to say to themselves, “well dats the Bible, that ain’t no solid truth. How can you say that’s truth, made made it!” I will explain to all my atheists friends out there one day, but not now because I literally will start writing a novel right here and now. Help, me, Lord. And like a faithful friend, He will.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (That’s 1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

So if that’s all the characteristics of love, we can say that those are the characteristics of God, too, because 1 John 4:8 says, “God is love.”

If we are imperfect people, we love imperfectly. But wait just a second here because in 1 John 4, if we read the whole thing, it says

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.”

So if one isn’t a believer in Jesus, like hasn’t received Him as Lord and Savior, then it would be true also to say that they don’t know Love if they don’t know God.

When someone doesn’t know God, because we were made in His image and His likeness (Genesis 1:27, Gen. 9:6), we still have attributes and qualities of God. The Bible also says, “eternity was placed in the human heart, (Ecclesiastes 3:11), people can be without God but still be operating out of the qualities and attributes they were made with. I’m sure God did that intentionally to help us find our way back to “truth north” in the event that we should become lost. What I am saying friends is that people who reject Jesus at this point, choose Atheism, paganism, Gnosticism, and other forms of religion, they still have that eternity void that needs to be filled. And some further discussion on the void of eternity:

Think of eternity as an umbrella…and under the umbrella, there’s

LOVE

MEANING

PURPOSE

TRUTH

If all of these are within the concept of eternity, then all of us have the bent within us to go after them. It’s in us to find these things…because we are trying to get back to our “true north.”

But wait! Because if “true north” is God. How do we know which avenue to God is the right one?

“Oh, boy. You’ve done it now, Lex.”

[to be continued...]

#jesus #hollywood #satanic agenda #truth #darkness #light #awakening #bible #scripture #love #wisdom #peace #world peace #heaven

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edogawatranslations · 5 years

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Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 3, Part 1

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 2, Part 4

Chapter 3 - The Palace of Twelve Locked Rooms

Dusk had already fallen by the time we made it back to my dorm around six in the evening.

While walking to my room, we passed by one of my hallmates. The sight of Kyoko sleeping on my back and the boy in the vest tagging along behind us caused her eyes to shoot wide open.

“Yui...” she said with a look of concern. “You’ve been hanging out with a strange crowd recently.”

“You saw nothing.”

After entering my room, I lay Kyoko down onto my bed and let her sleep. Those ghastly marks remained visible on her white neck, a painful reminder she had been moments removed from death. I felt sorry for her.

Lico took a curious glance around.

“Huh... I’ve never been in a girl’s dorm room before.”

“Don’t let your eyes wander.” I quickly kicked some clothes and underwear that had been scattered on the floor under my bed. “Take a seat.”

“Okay.” With a smile, Lico sat down on his knees.

“There are a bajillion things I wanna ask you once Kyoko wakes up... But I gotta know: are you really Rei Mikagami?”

“If by that, you’re asking if there are people in this world who refer to me by that name, then the answer is yes. I do not recall my actual name. I mentioned earlier that both of my parents died when I was young; my earliest memories were at an orphanage.”

“Then what about the Rei Mikagami registered with the Detective Library?”

“That would be me.”

“So you’re really a triple-zero class detective? That’s incredible, you know. Are you aware of that?”

“Of course. That’s why the whole world is hunting me down, after all.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve, I think?”

“Huh? Something doesn’t add up... When did you first register with the Detective Library?”

“Probably when I was around seven or so. There was a case I couldn’t solve without a Detective Library ID card, so I registered.”

“A seven-year-old kid managed to rank up to a triple-zero class detective in the span of only five years?”

“Technically speaking, I reached that status when I was maybe around nine.”

Sitting before me was the quintessential genius. His skill was far beyond that of other detectives who might languish for three years before ranking up for the first time, not to mention those who perpetrated and solved their own crimes to rank up six times.

Since Rei Mikagami was promoted to triple-zero class in such a short period after registering with the Library, the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee likely didn’t have enough time to determine his identity. It also didn’t hurt that he seemed to excel at laying low, thwarting the attempts of those who sought to track his movements.

“Every single one of the cases I’ve solved under the name Rei Mikagami has been archived into my file at the Library. I wonder, who has been watching me, and from where?”

“I bet Committee members keep a close eye on you at their watch parties.”

“The Committee has nothing to do with it.”

“Huh? But aren’t the Detective Library and the Committee secretly connected?”

“Nope. Not in the slightest.”

“No way, that can’t be true. No matter how you think about it...”

“The Detective Library has strictly adhered to its founding ideals—to serve as a database with no will of its own. By eschewing the influence of any and all organizations, it guarantees its status as a neutral institution for all registered detectives.”

“I’m saying, what if all of that is just lip service?”

“...I wonder.” Lico flashed a smile and tilted his head.

“Hmph. You don’t care one bit about this, do you? It’s written all over your face.”

“Heh. I’m sorry, but the Detective Library doesn’t interest me,” Lico said with a childish smile. “However, I can say with the utmost confidence that no reciprocal relationship exists between the Committee and the Library. If anything, the Committee has unilaterally been using the Library.”

“...Really?”

“Consider this. If the same group controlled both the Committee and the Library, isn’t it odd that the file of their leader, Mikado Shinsen, was deleted from the archive? No other detective received the same treatment.”[3]

“Isn’t that because they don’t want his file to be available for everyone to access? If I were leading a criminal organization, I wouldn’t want my info out in the open; it’d be detrimental.”

“I think differently. If they could freely adjust their ranks and falsify their files however they desired, why would they intentionally draw attention to their leader by only deleting his file?”

“You have a point there...”

“The evidence suggests the Committee has no influence over detectives’ ranks or anything listed in individual files. In fact, I don’t think the Committee ever even considered trying to reign over the Library. Duel Noirs are considered fair gambles, so it is essential for the summoned detective to be ranked by a neutral organization. With that in mind, you could say that the activities of the Committee necessitate the complete neutrality of the Library. I doubt their audience would approve of match fixing.”

The audience for Duel Noirs likely took pleasure in witnessing real crimes unfold before their very eyes. Of course, however, some of the theatrics had to be prepared in advance.

“But, they specifically summoned me as the detective for the current challenge. How is that fair?”

“It’s not exactly unfair to designate a specific detective, as long as their rank is commensurate with the cost range.”

“I’m still not convinced; just look at these!”

I slapped the twelve challenge cards onto the floor.

“If Ryuuzouji is betting his retirement over this game, it’s a cheap price,” Lico commented. “His worth as a detective far outweighs being determined by these twelve scraps of paper.”

“...So you support him.”

“I hold him in high esteem.”

“Whose side are you on? The Committee’s? Or mine?”

“That sounds like something you’d ask a date,” Lico blushed, likely imagining being in a relationship. But I was fully aware of the deadly poison lurking beneath his smile. I was fearful of the fact that it was so easy to be entranced by his projected innocence.

“Well, I trust you’re not an enemy.”

“I’m glad to have your trust,” Lico replied with a genuine-looking smile.

Despite being a triple-zero class detective, he didn’t boast of his achievements, instead devoting his time to solving mysteries that interested him. But that begged the question: Why choose to work as an assistant to Ryuuzouji in the place most closely connected with the Committee? There was so much about him I found puzzling, and to get to the bottom of it, I thought of countless things I wanted to ask.

As I pondered where to begin my interrogation, Kyoko awoke with a groan and sat up in my bed. A painful-sounding cough followed.

“Kyoko, are you okay?” I asked. “Here, drink some water. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I’m fine... I’ll be okay,” Kyoko answered with a raspy voice, before chugging a bottle of water. It wasn’t just her throat; her entire body had taken a beating. Even so, she tried to pretend like nothing was wrong.

I worried that continuing to express my concern for her would hurt her pride, so I decided to move on with the conversation.

“You woke up at the right time; I’ve just started to question this kid,” I said, pointing at the boy sitting straight up on the floor. “You won’t believe it, but he’s Rei Mikagami.”

“Indeed,” Kyoko said nonchalantly, scratching her throat.

“What, you knew?”

“I had a sneaking suspicion. You only introduced me to him as a friend, but he somehow knew my name without it being mentioned.”

“I could have learned about you at Ryuuzouji’s place, you know?” Lico shot back with a smile.

“Then you should’ve been more surprised to see me. Ryuuzouji and the Committee have been trying their hardest to locate me, so my appearance at the station would've come as a shock. Regardless, any notion of you being a normal kid vanished after seeing how you handled those assassins.”

“With the way things were headed, I couldn’t keep things a secret. It may sound like an excuse, but I had every intention of revealing my identity to you after dealing with the assassins, I swear.”

“Uh huh.” I eyed Lico suspiciously. “Why are you even working at Ryuuzouji’s place?”

“Unless I constantly surround myself with the mysterious, I’ll shrivel up into ash and die,” Lico said with a soft smile.

But behind that smile, there was a certain earnestness that couldn’t be laughed off.

“That is why I decided to infiltrate Ryuuzouji’s castle, in pursuit of the world’s greatest mysteries. While I have solved many mysteries up until now, the quality of them has been suffocatingly low.”

“You sure have a taste for luxury.”

“I have come to realize that a lifestyle journeying around the world suits me better than one lingering in a fixed place. I’m certain that somewhere on this earth, the ‘something mysterious’ I’m seeking is awaiting me.”

Lico sounded like a boy with great aspirations for summer vacation.

He belonged to a different breed of detective, one made up of those who wholeheartedly devoted themselves to chasing after mysteries. Unlike detectives who served to protect something or save others, he was free to move and act without restraint.

“Does Ryuuzouji know you’re Rei Mikagami?”

“I don’t think he knew when he first hired me. He might have had faint suspicions about my identity up until yesterday, but following today’s events, I’m sure his beliefs have cemented into certainty.”

“Why? Was Ryuuzouji watching you from somewhere?”

“No. I suspect at least one of the assassins was hired by Ryuuzouji himself,” Lico said with a straight face.

“R-Really? Why would he do that?”

“To kill me—just kidding. More likely to confirm my identity as Rei Mikagami. Since all of the assassins survived, they will inevitably report back to Ryuuzouji.”

“Then Ryuuzouji must have been the one who leaked the information that Rei Mikagami was going to appear at Meyura Station,” Kyoko said, adjusting her posture on the edge of the bed.

“W-Wait a sec. What’s the big deal? Why would Ryuuzouji go to such lengths?”

Kyoko stared coldly at my frantic expression, before beginning to explain. “All of it was planned out from the very start. First, Ryuuzouji leaked false information to send his hired assassins to Meyura Station, keeping the truth hidden from them. At the same time, he challenged you to an unfair Duel Noir, engineering a situation where you would have no choice but to head to the station. In doing so, he gained a reason to send Lico—your assistant in the game—to the station as well. Naturally, Lico and the assassins would encounter each other there.”

“You lost me. So you’re saying these twelve challenges were designed as a trap to expose Rei Mikagami’s identity?”

With that understanding, the decision game Ryuuzouji forced me to play took on a new meaning. It was a test to confirm that I was someone who would never dirty my hands: someone who would stop Rei Mikagami from silencing the assassins when the time came.

“I realize why he kept me so close to him as a trusted assistant, despite only having worked for him for half a year. He wanted me by his side so he could uncover my identity,” Lico reasoned.

“Geez, we’ve all been played because of you. I can’t believe all of this was just a ploy to flush out Rei Mikagami. Well, at least I can rest easy knowing that these Duel Noir cards are all phonies,” I sighed in relief.

“On the contrary, the fact that they are not is evident of Ryuuzouji’s true, frightening nature,” Lico shrugged. “The cards aren’t phonies—they’re real. That’s one reason why Ryuuzouji is known as a genius of parallel thinking and multitasking; he can seamlessly weave multiple plans into one.”

“Wait, so the Duel Noir is actually going on right now?”

“Yep.”

It was impossible to wrap my head around it all.

How many different plots did Ryuuzouji have planned out? He didn’t have to move an inch from his headquarters; the press of a button was enough to set everything into motion. This was how daunting it felt to be facing off against an armchair detective.

“The Duel Noir has only just begun. There’s plenty of time,” Lico said with a smile.

161 hours remained. That seemed like a lot, but it also felt severely lacking.

“On that note, are you aware of the contents of the Duel Noir this time?” Kyoko asked Lico with a piercing look.

Lico shook his head. “Normally, Ryuuzouji forbade me from entering his room. Hypothetically speaking, even if I did get the chance to watch him work, since he always multitasked on many different tasks at once, I wouldn’t be able to identify what, if anything, was related to a Duel Noir—”

“You would.”

“Hmm?”

“Someone like you is more than capable of identifying such a thing.”

“...You think so?” Lico tilted his head, playing dumb.

“Tell us the truth,” I pressed. “Whose side are you on?”

“I don’t know myself,” Lico shrugged, throwing his hands up.

“What don’t you know? Is there even anything in this world that you don’t know?”

“Left or right, A or B, friend or foe—I cannot understand why humans are always so obsessed with dichotomizing everything, nor why they seek to define themselves as being tied to one side or the other. Wouldn’t either side be fine? Think about how many conflicts throughout history could have been prevented if the issues hadn’t been framed as black and white...”

“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s no time for your philosophical ramblings. Lico, I need your help. You understand that much, don’t you?”

“You need me?”

“Yeah. Please, lend us your skills.”

“On one condition.”

“One condition...? Fine, what is it?”

“Kiss me.”

[3] (TN: At the end of Volume 1, Yui and Kyoko visit the Detective Library, where Yui tells Kyoko the rumors about there being a fourth triple-zero class detective whose file was erased. At the end of Volume 2, Yui and Kyoko receive a call from Kyoko’s grandfather, who reveals to them that Mikado Shinsen was a former triple-zero class detective. Lico confirms this information here.)

Next: Chapter 3, Part 2

#dr kirigiri #danganronpa #danganronpa kirigiri #kirigiri #translation #novel #light novel

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thinkyoureholy · 6 years

Text

Blood Lust [5]

Pairing : Oh Sehun / Reader

Genre : Angst, fluff, suggestive language Vampire! AU

Words : 2.8k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I hid behind the woman I called my mother, hoping that the monster would eventually go away if I hid behind my mother. She was able to make anything scary go away so I believed she’d be able to make this monster go away. I clutched onto her skirt tightly, burying my face in the fabric as I heard the man start to slowly make his way over to us. I felt my mother place her hand on my back, trying to make me feel safer by letting me know she was there and she wasn’t going anyway.

“Y/N?”

I trembled at his voice, a small whimper falling from my lips as the tears started to flow. I clung onto my mother with a vice grip, knowing that the man had crouched down next to me, completely ignoring my mother. I let out a small shriek at feeling the man grab at my arm. His grip wasn’t tight or anything, it was actually quite gentle but that did nothing to minimize my growing fear and anxiety.

“What have I told you about disobeying me?” He asked, his voice deceivingly sweet.

I kept my gaze on the floor, sniffling as I tried to keep the tears at bay. I knew the longer I cried the more severe the punishment would be.

“Y/N...you know I expect an answer when I’m talking to you. Now, tell me, what have I told you about disobeying me?”

“I-I’m sorry….I won’t do it again.”

“You promised the same thing last time.” He said, an evident frown on his face.

“Please don’t hurt mommy.”I pleaded with him, my tears coming back full force as they cascaded down my cheeks.

I cried harder at feeling his hands on my face, his thumbs wiping the tears off my cheeks.

“Now go on upstairs, little one.”

I shook my head vigorously at that, a deep sigh leaving him. He placed his hands on my shoulders before speaking again, “We just went over this Y/N.”

I hiccuped as I continued to sob, shaking my head. My sobs had only gotten louder until I felt my mother grab me and wrap her arms around my body tightly. I clung onto her like my life depended on it, shaking my head at the things she whispered in my ears.

“Go on, sweetie, mommy will be right behind you.” She said as she kneeled down so she could be eye level with me.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed abruptly. As soon as I realized what was going on this searing pain washed over me, starting from my chest. I could literally feel my chest trying to cave in on itself as I was reminded of that painful day. My mother had promised to be right behind me but she wasn’t. That day she didn’t come back to our room minutes later like she usually would, that was the day she never came back and I never got to see her again. That was the day a part of my shriveled up and died and I know I’ll never get it back. That day my soul felt broken and since that day it’s never been whole.

As the sobs came full force I started gasping for air, the memory too painful. Not a day goes by that I don’t blame myself for what happened to my mother. If only I had listened, if only I had obeyed his rules she’d still here. Now not only am I left alone in this cruel world I’m now a servant to the son of the very man that killed my mother in cold blood. I clasped my hand over my mouth as I curled up into a ball, bringing my knees up to my chest. I knew he could hear me, I wasn’t stupid but in this moment I wanted to believe that no one knew how I was feeling, no one was here to witness me at my weakest.

“Do you have everything ready?” Sehun asked, having gotten a few servants to help with banquet.

I looked down at my clipboard, seeing that everything was checked off. After my little breakdown I rebuilt the walls I had let crumble to dust and as a result my eyes looked dull. I knew Yoseob could tell something was off but everytime he asked I simply brushed it off. It seemed like the one that didn’t notice was Sehun but I were being honest I wanted keep it that way, whether he only pretended not to notice or simply didn’t care enough to didn’t matter to me.

“Yes, sir.”

Sehun looked surprised to hear me address him as sir without him having to force it out of me. I didn’t catch the faint frown on his face as I bowed before turning my heel and started walking away from him. I didn’t get very far, feeling a hand grab onto my wrist. I could tell who it was before I even turned around so I didn’t. I kept my back to him as I sighed heavily, waiting for him to either let me go or say something.

“Go to my office. I need to talk with you.”

I said nothing and waited for him to let go of me. He squeezed my wrist in his grip, not liking that I didn’t give him an answer. Once again I let out a heavy sigh, grinding my teeth as I nodded slowly. He seemed to be okay with the way I answered him as he finally let me go. WIthout wasting another second I walked away, heading straight for his office.

I didn’t have to wait long for him to arrive. As soon as he walked into the room I could sense how annoyed he was. I kept my eyes on the ground, even when I felt him stand directly in front of me.

“Okay you’ve been dead inside for the past two days. Tell me why.” He said none too kindly.

He didn’t bother beating around the bush or even ask nicely. I don’t know if I was relieved he brought up the subject the way he did or pissed off, maybe a little of both. Nut to be frank I think I was more pissed off than anything. Ever since I found out Sehun was his son...I couldn’t help but let my anger out on him for being that monster’s offspring.

“Is there something else that’s actually important that you’d like to say? If not I have things to get done.”

“I thought you got rid of that damn attitude of yours.” He sighed out, leaning back against his desk while crossing his arms over his chest, “Now tell me before I get tired of asking.”

“It’s none of your business.” I said through gritted teeth, annoyed that he kept pushing the subject.

With that I turned around to leave but stopped in my tracks at what he said next.

“This all started the day my father came over. Is he the reason you’ve been like this?”

I have no idea why but suddenly something snapped at hearing the concern in his voice. It wasn’t a snap where tears streamed down my face, no it was a snap of pure rage. I turned around and marched over to him, stopping when our faces were mere inches apart.

“You know what you’re right. It’s because you’re his son. Happy now?” I all but sneered out, watching the surprise spread across his face.

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

“You really are clueless aren’t you? Do you even know who was my ‘master’ when I was a child? It was your father.” I had to pause to regain my composure, feeling myself start to lose it.

“So what, you’re saying I’m like him? Is that it?”

“Yes! Every time I look at you I’m reminded of what I went through when I was a child. My mother. My mother was taken from me, I was only five when I lost her. Wanna know who took her from me, who killed her?” I stopped to catch my breath, well aware of the tears that streamed down my face.

“Y/N...I’m nothing like him…” He said softly, trying to reach out for me.

I stepped back and out of his reach, “But you are. The way you lash out, the way you’re impatient when things aren’t brought to you quick enough, the way you belittle us, your eyes. God, your eyes are identical.”

“Shut up…”

“You think you’re above everyone, even your own kind. You’re arrogant beyond belief it’s laughable. You’re an exact replica of your father.”

“I said shut up!” He yelled, lashing out as he threw the lamp on his desk to the side.

I watched it shatter into a million pieces, my knees wobbling at the fear that started to settle in my bones. I stumbled back into the wall as he made his way towards me slowly, his anger and irritation evident.

“Don’t ever compare me to that wretched old man do you hear me? I am nothing like him.” He all but growled out, his eyes changing as he let his temper get the better of him.

I tried backing away from him but I already had my back pressed up against the wall so there was nowhere for me to go. At seeing the unadulterated terror in my eyes I could see the fire in his eyes die out immediately, a look of worry flashing in his eyes. He stumbled over his words, not being able to form coherent sentences. I took this as my chance to move away from him and headed straight for the door without even so much as looking back at him.

……

-Sehun’s P.O.V-

“If I knew you’d be here I would’ve brought out the good stuff.” I mumbled out, swirling the red substance in my glass around as I looked over at the slightly taller man that sat next to me.

“You telling me you have better stuff than this? Man, the life of pureblood sure is one to envy.” Chanyeol said with a smirk, taking a sip from his own glass, his fangs catching the light for a split second before disappearing.

I couldn’t help but let a small smile cross my features. The smile on my face didn’t last long as I met eye with a vampire I’ve grown to hate immensely in just a few weeks, Andrei. I ground my teeth in annoyance, watching him smirk at me from across the room as he beckoned a servant over to him. My annoyance grew at seeing that servant was none other than Y/N. I could tell she was hesitant, her hands picking at the fabric of her jeans. She had no choice but to go to him, Andrei forcing her to bend over so he could whisper in her ear. I could see her visibly shake, taking a step back from him before nodding and running off to get whatever he asked for.

“Loosen that grip on your glass before it shatters.” Chanyeol said, his voice breaking me out of the staredown I was having with Andrei.

I sighed heavily, cursing under my breath as I chugged the liquid from my glass, having it be refilled immediately by one of the servants standing by. And like the first I chugged that one too, placing my hand on the top of the cup to stop them from refilling the glass. I never if I had too much I’d go past the point of no return, already feeling my eyes start to change.

“If this night doesn’t end soon I swear I’m going to rip that smug smirk off that bastards face...and it won’t be pretty.”

Chanyeol chuckled at that, motioning over t where my father and Andrei’s own father were sitting, “I’m not sure those geezers will like it very much.”

“You say that as if I care what those bastards think. This is my house, they should consider themselves lucky that I even let them set foot in it.” I scoffed out.

“Don’t think we can’t hear you, boy.” Kir said, not even looking in my direction.

“Oh I know you can. You may be old but aging means nothing to our kind...isn’t that right?”

“Watch your mouth, Sehun. I may have stood by a century ago to you disrespecting my father but I won’t stand for it now.” Andrei hissed out, butting in.

“Pipe down unless you want me to finish what you started just a few weeks ago. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“When will you two grow up?” My father asked, exasperated with the both of us.

Andrei completely ignored my father, rising from his seat as he stalked slowly over to me, his glass in hand. I stayed seated, watching as he stood directly in front of me, taunting him with my eyes. It seems like he took the taunt, a smirk playing at his lips as he suddenly poured the contents of the glass over my head. The blood coated my entire head, staining my white shirt. I let a small chuckle fall from my lips as I rose from my seat slowly. I closed my eyes for a second before reopening them, my black and red one on full display. I could see Andrei waver momentarily at seeing my eyes but he quickly regained himself, his own eyes changing to a simple red color.

“I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and walk away….before I show you what a pureblood is truly capable of.” I threatened him, my voice lowering significantly.

Andrei only smirked, flexing his fingers before clenching his hands into fist.

“One.” I counted, trying to give him a chance to back down.

He stood his ground, his fangs starting to peak out.

“Two.”

“Sehun-” Chanyeol said, trying to intervene.

I brushed his hand off, taking a step closer to Andrei. Before I could even get to three Andrei threw the fist punch. I stumbled back, knocking down a few chairs in the process. I laughed humorlessly, wiping at the blood that collected at the corner of my mouth. I let a wicked grin cross my face, letting myself shift completely. I felt my fangs elongate as well as my claws start to come out. Before anyone had a chance to stop me I charged at him, hurling him back into the far way. The wall cracked from the force, Andrei letting out a groan. Before he could recover I was standing directly in front of him, I smirked at the look of terror that crossed his eyes, bringing my hand up to his neck, digging my claws into his flesh. I squeezed hard, hearing something in his neck start to crack. Just as I felt like his neck was going to break in my hand he somehow managed to push my away from him. I hit the opposite wall with a thud, a growl leaving my lips at seeing him run towards me. I did the same, meeting him halfway. I got the upper hand, slamming him down onto the floor roughly. I managed to flip him over so he was on his stomach, my clawed hand digging into the back of his neck where I grabbed onto his spinal cord.

“Sehun stop!” I heard his father call out.

I paid him no mind, a smirk on my face as I looked up at his father. I could see the fear and anger in his eyes and before he could say anything else I pulled Andrei’s spine out of his body, killing him instantly. All that was heard was Yeseul’s screams, Andrei’s blood now covering the entire hall. I tsked, forgetting how messy it was to kill one of my own. You see the only way we died was if our spine were ripped entirely out of our bodies. We had hard skin so almost nothing was able to penetrate it, that is except our own kind. We were the only ones that knew of the small space behind our necks that was a little more...tender. With the right amount of force applied we were able to penetrate the skin, knowing to attack the spine to kill the other.

I heard glass breaking somewhere off to my right, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turned to see who it was, my heart dropping to my stomach at seeing Y/N standing there with complete and utter terror in her eye. I tried taking a step towards her, my heart breaking at seeing her stumble back, She looked like she was on the verge of crying, turning on her heel and running out of the room. I stumbled back myself, looking down at my hands to see Andrei’s blood still dripping from them.

She was right.

I’m exactly like my father, no, I was worse.

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 7 years

Text

Fandom wank is loud, and Daryl has shit to say about it.

Silver and Foxy (also on 9L)

“You sure you’re okay?”

The unwritten rule between them usually forbade Daryl from pressing Carol when she didn’t want to talk about whatever ate at her heart, but this seemed different.

He’d seen the way her smile shriveled in the presence of the other women. He’d watched her retreat inside herself except when she played with Judy. Walls he hadn’t seen in months kept appearing like flashes of lightening, leaving emotional devastation in their wake.

And he wanted to know why.

She’d flourished in Alexandria after the war ended. The walls stayed up, the walkers stayed out, and the runs remained more or less successful. Their gardens grew, and the goats and cows they’d acquired reproduced, providing them with milk and meat they’d missed out on the road.

Living out there seemed like a distant nightmare, though one they actively chose to remember. It frightened them to think they could lose the compound, but it’d happened before, and they knew history repeated itself; they just prayed it would hold off indefinitely.

He felt sure no one else had noticed her retreat of self-preservation, but he knew her more intimately than any of the others. After years of tiptoeing around the inevitable and too many close calls to number—and after the smoke from the blasts of the war that had nearly claimed them both died away—they’d fallen into each others’ arms, full of gratitude and relief and love. Handsy but shy, willing but anxious, they grew into a steady rhythm of love and affection they’d been starved of until that most precious of unions.

He held her close every night he slept inside the walls, watched her bloom around their family like he hadn’t seen since their days at the prison, and teased her mercilessly with secret touches and subtle, smouldering stares when others weren’t paying attention.

For the first time in his life, he loved his life. Their life. The life they’d built together.

And he’d be damned if he watched something cause her to lose herself again.

“I am.”

Her chipper tone didn’t fool him, but he merely stared at her, waiting to see if she’d relent or if she really wanted to keep her secrets for the moment.

Carol, turning down the bed on her side, met his eyes once but dropped her gaze quickly. She heaved a sigh before wearily admitting, “I want to be,” and plopping on the bed.

Daryl moved to sit next to her, curious but attuned to her temperament. He thought her antsy and uncomfortable, and when she started absentmindedly tapping her foot, he knew the battle she fought was emotional, not life- or wall-threatening but worrisome to her.

He waited, her tapping clocking the seconds of silence that passed.

“I…” She started fiddling with her fingers and let out another sigh. “It’s nothing really. A woman thing. Maybe I should just…talk to Michonne about it.”

He noted her taping increased as she spoke. Whatever gnawed at her made her more antsy than he’d ever seen her. He nodded in acquiescence though. “If you think it’ll help,” he offered.

Her face, which any outsider would read as confident, fell to reveal the dis-ease within her. “I just…haven’t liked myself much the past few days.”

He mentally reared back. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been that.

The community, their family, loved her. Rick saw her as a sister and formidable strategist whose advice he sought when danger threatened. Michonne loved her as a best friend, and Carl and Judy believed her their second mom. She was Tara’s confidant. Maggie adored her more than any of the rest of them who’d known her entire family before they’d all been lost. Rosita respected and looked up to her as a fellow female weapons instructor. Jerry still brought her cobbler, even though they had plenty of their own food, just to hear her snark and see her smile. And Ezekiel thought her radiant enough to be a queen. The man wasn’t wrong, but Daryl was the lucky one who got to treat her like one.

Everyone had their flaws, but…he didn’t find many in her.

“What…what is it you don’t like?” he asked softly.

She shrugged one shoulder, and he felt her hesitancy. “I’m not good with this stuff,” she mumbled forlornly. “I…always had to swallow these emotions down. I couldn’t tell…him.”

His heart hollowed at the mention of the bastard from her past. It seemed utterly unfair that someone as caring, someone as good and selfless and loving as Carol had once had a sack of shit for a husband. He’d tried to make up for all the shortcomings in her life, but the old habits and memories of self-preservation were cruel and unrelenting.

He knew that as well as she did.

“You can tell me,” he affirmed. “But only if you want. I’ll listen.”

She met his gaze and gave him a sad smile. “I know you will.” She looked at her hands, one picking at a worn band on the opposite wrist. “I overheard some of the teenage girls talking the other day. They were mooning over the new guy, Brad, and Aaron. Carl, Jesus, Rick—”

“Rick?” Daryl blurted out.

Mirth crossed her face. “Rick. And you.”

His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. “Me?”

She gave him a soft smile. “Yes. You.” His disbelief made her heart ache at how little he still thought of himself at times.

“And then they started assessing the women,” she continued. “About how hot they are, how they want to grow up just like them: Maggie, Michonne, Rosita. But not me,” she whispered, the words dripping with heartache.

“Why the hell not?” he ground out, stung by the ridiculous exclusion of her.

She shook her head. “They think I’m smart and brave. They know I care about them. They even think…”

He saw her cheeks tinge red. “What?” he encouraged softly, though his blood boiled at the thought of what venomous girls might’ve said to hurt her.

“They think I have a nice figure, but…they said I’m old. ‘Dried up,’ is how they put it. Because my hair is short and gray. They said…” She swallowed hard before continuing. “They think we’re hot together, but that I’m too old for you.”

Her voice cracked with the last few words, and he struggled to reign in his anger.

“They’re right: you do have a nice figure. And we are hot together. Hot enough we could teach ‘em how to stand on the sun. But those girls don’t know a damn thing!”

“It’s okay, Daryl,” she cajoled, miserable at having admitted what she’d overheard.

“It ain’t okay,” he retorted. “It ain’t! Bad enough the world was like that before—devaluin’ people because’a the way they look, or who their parents were, how much money they had or what kinda car they drove. Pssh, over things outside’a their control.” He shook his head in disgust. “But now? The hell… And dried up?!”

Furious at the asinine opinions of girls who’d barely survived high school, he tried to calm his rant and focus on Carol.

“You ain’t dried up: you’re the softest thing I ever held. Full’a life and fire and smarter than any ten people put together!”

“To them I am old.” She chuffed deprecatingly. “Ancient even.”

“We’re the same damn age. And I ain’t old.”

They’d never discussed age. It didn’t matter anymore, and other than Judith, birthdays had become a thing of Before. They calculated the passing of time now by the seasons and how many places they’d called home.

“I was 45 when it all happened,” Carol remembered dejectedly. “Guess it’s been about two years now. So I know why they think I’m old.”

“I was 42, so see? We’re about the same. And they’ll be damn lucky if they live to see 25 nowadays, so they best start lookin’ at us with wonder and respect, instead’a being ageist pricks.”

“They’re right though—my hair is short and gray.”

Though he burned with indignation, the fight went out of him at her despondent tone, at how badly the careless chits had hurt her.

“Carol.” He imbued her name with all the love blooming in his chest for the things he saw in her that she couldn’t see in herself.

He dropped to his knees next to her and took her hands in his, waiting until her tear-filled eyes met his before speaking.

“Thank you. For tellin’ me, for sharin’ how you feel. I know it ain’t our way, but thank you for trustin’ me that much.

“You know what I see when I look at you? The woman I love?”

She stared at him forlornly and shook her head, the tears she’d kept at bay finally spilling down her cheeks.

He squeezed her hand with one of his, dropping the other to her sock-covered feet. “I see feet that’ve traveled thousands’a miles to get here. To where you are. Safe and with a family who loves you so much they’d kill for you. And have.” He slid his hand up the back of one calf. “Legs—shapely legs,” he interrupted himself with a quick gleam in his eye, and his hand moved to the front of her leg, up over her knee, and rested on her thigh. “…that’ve carried you out of danger and into war. Down highways and through states and out’a danger and straight to my arms, and I couldn’t have asked for more.”

His hand moved to her hip. “A nice tush,” he said cheekily, and she exhaled a laugh, though tears still eked from her eyes. “A flat belly that carried and nurtured your baby….your body’s a miracle worker.”

Sliding his hand up to rest next to her breast, he continued. “A great figure,” he repeated from earlier. “You nourished your baby. Gave her life and kept her safe. Pillowed her there.” He flicked his eyes up to hers, placing his hand flat against the valley between her breasts. “Pillow me there sometimes too,” he teased with a hint of fire in his gaze. “A heart that overflows for every person you care about. A mother’s love. A lover’s passion. All cushioned in a supple wrapping any man would die for. I would,” he admitted guilelessly.

Her tears had stopped, and she watched him intently as he lifted his hand to her shoulder. “Shoulders strong enough to keep goin’ under the weight of this broken-down hell of a world. To help me stand when I wanna give up. You’ve carried supplies and Judy and more than your fair share of shed tears on ‘em.

“And these arms.” He slid his hand slowly down her bicep and rested it on her forearm. “Toned and strong, but soft enough to offer support anyone who needs it. And they give the best damn hugs I ever got. And these hands…” He turned one of her hands over, palm up, and ran his fingers repeatedly across her palm and down the length of her fingers. “Made to nuture and trained to protect. Gentle enough to cradle Judy and deadly enough to save us all. Perfect for wipin’ tears away and to fit in my hand,” he breathed, lacing their fingers together.

He stared at their clasped hands for a few moments, overcome with the devotion he felt for this woman, and he swallowed hard before looking up at her and continuing.

“A mouth that…hell, whispers the hottest things I ever heard sometimes.” Her cheeks flared pink, and he cupped one with his hand, his thumb lightly brushing over her lips. “And encourages and teases and tells us all how much she cares with every word. Kisses like fire, too,” he added.

“And those eyes. Like the depth of the ocean and just as wild. Fiery when you’re mad and soulful when you’re sad. Windows of your heart, and I could drown in ‘em.”

He slid his hand up into her hair. “Hair so soft. Like silk. Perfect to run my fingers through,” he told her as he did so.

“But gray,” she murmured, recalling the words she’d overheard.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Silver. My silver fox.”

She chuffed a laugh at him despite herself.

“What?” he asked, indignant.

“I think…I think that’s a term for a man.”

He looked at her, confused. “Like hell it is. Silver silk,” he murmured, still feathering his fingers through her hair. “All messy and sexy in the mornin’ and after some good lovin’. Curly and cute when it ain’t too hot. Makes you look like a pixie.

“And foxy as hell. D’you know a female fox is called a vixen?”

“Is that my hunter talking?” she teased, trying to shake away the heat of his gaze with humor.

He gauged her discomfort as unease with herself, not with him, and so he continued. “I only ever hunted one vixen, and she’s cunning, loyal, lithe, witty, subtle. No need for flamboyance or struttin’ around.” He looked pointedly at her. “Even though she damn well could.” He waited a beat, then one side of his mouth upturned in a teasing half-smile. “Walk down the street wearing that red bra and panty set you wore last week when you had your way with me and every mouth in this compound’d drool like a damn walker. They’d be beggin’ you to put ‘em outta their misery.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, but instead of crying she had a small smile on her face.

“Hey.”

She sniffled once, then opened her eyes at his gentle entreaty.

“You’re amazin’, inside and out. I know it’s hard to believe it with the…past and what you been through, but…” He stared up at her in awe. “I only see starlight when I look at you. A canopy of brilliance shinin’ out through all the darkness around us.” He trailed a finger down her check, following a tear track. “I hate that you don’t see it.”

He laced their fingers back together. “I’mma be here to remind you, any time you doubt, okay?”

She nodded, and though the ache of self-loathing hadn’t dissipated, it had lessened with his words of affection.

He kissed her hand, then got up from his kneeling position to sit next to her again. “You’re my vixen. My silver fox.”

She chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder. “I told you…that’s a man.”

“Silver,” he whispered just before placing a kiss in her hair. “And foxy, then.” With a hand on her cheek, he turned her face towards him and barely touched his lips to hers, his words serious, his kiss teasing.

“And yours,” she murmured on a heady sigh, then leaned in to kiss him fully.

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #caryl fanfiction #caryl fanfic #my writing #personal

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emily-420 · 7 years

Text

Title: gravity Fandom/pairing: gintama, tsukisachi Words: 1854 Summary: The pull across the lonely darkness; the crash and deafening silence of impact; the reformation. And in the wake, something new.

ao3

Across the rooftops, Tsukuyo saw that Sarutobi was sitting above some restaurants, her legs kicked out and her hair and scarf stirring in the chill breeze that skimmed through the evening. For a moment, she paused; sometimes, when Sarutobi kept her mouth shut, she looked positively ethereal, like a guardian spirit made of pure light. Her pale silhouette could seem removed from everything around it, disconnected, on a higher plane.

Like the moon, Tsukuyo thought, and then swiftly dumped all that romanticizing back in the recycle bin of her mind where it belonged. It was Sarutobi, after all – she’d probably just been off stabbing someone for a horrendous amount of money. Tsukuyo leapt over to her and tried not to make a show of whiffing the air around the woman for the smell of blood.

“What’s up,” she said, coming to a crouch beside Sarutobi. “Who’d you off today?”

“Some rich lady’s ex-husband,” Sarutobi said without pause, her eyes unmoving from the stream of people passing through the street below. “He abused her and then tried to take the kids when she served him. No great loss, I’d say.”

“Men are the worst,” she replied idly, not really having much else to add; no matter what she thought of Sarutobi’s profession, she could never seem to fault her for her targets. From what Tsukuyo knew, they were usually scumbags who had it coming, corrupt assholes who’d left basic things like empathy long behind. Almost as if Sarutobi was single-handedly taking the collective revenge of Edo, though she’d no doubt deny it if it were suggested.

“Yeah,” Sarutobi said, then whipped around to her, all at once foolish again. “Hey, Tsukki, let’s go have dinner! I got paid a lot today and killing makes me crave carbs!”

Tsukuyo regarded her flatly. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, even though she did. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t flatter yourself yourself,” she snapped, voice fluctuating as if to exemplify the vastness of her irritation. “I’m just sick of being alone, okay? And if you’re going to hang around you might as well hang around and stuff your face with me, you god-awful–”

“Sure.” Tsukuyo cut her off. “That’s fine then.”

She stood up, shoes clacking on the roof tile, and Sarutobi remained seated, frowning petulantly at her. Yeah, the romanticizing really had to stay in the recycle bin. She should really empty that folder out sometime.

“What d’you wanna eat?” Tsukuyo asked, moving to the gutter, even as the other woman’s glare pierced her back like so many kunai.

“Why are you like this,” Sarutobi said, mostly to herself, it seemed.

Right back at you, Tsukuyo thought, and jumped off the edge.

They kept doing it like this for months on end. ‘Accidentally’ meeting up – even though Tsukuyo was sure Sarutobi was hanging out around the same neighbourhood on purpose, and that she herself had been going there on purpose, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise – and then totally not going on a date. Even though they take turns paying, and definitely engaged in more violence that anyone else around them. (Tsukuyo has been informed that this last piece does not actually constitute flirting, but has yet to be convinced.)

It’s almost silly – how they could be doing so much more than having dinner and talking about the relative benefits of men in society (which, according to Sarutobi, are A, reproducing, and B, reproducing). How Sarutobi can’t stay in an apartment more than a week at a time, but would no doubt be safe if she moved to Yoshiwara. How Tsukuyo could reach out and touch her without needing an excuse, a plausible deniability.

Yet they continued on, endlessly performing friendship (as much as either of them knew how) to avoid the inevitable, as if their potential relationship were the end of the Earth, an explosion that would roast them all alive. They were both too stubborn to do anything else – and, Tsukuyo reasoned, deep in denial, too volatile to work.

We don’t even really like each other, she argued, fruitlessly.

Ah, something inside her – the part of her brain the produced all the gay thoughts, no doubt – said; but you don’t not like each other, either, do you?

And that was the problem.

Something landed on Tsukuyo. Something very heavy, and decidedly human-shaped. In the sleepy darkness, she reached under her pillow for a kunai, and tried to stab it, just in case it was a demon or something equally terrible. Like a man.

“Ow!” the thing screeched as Tsukuyo’s kunai definitely scraped something. “What was that for, Tsukki! I come here to stay safe and you stab me? I knew you were awful, but this is rude even for you!”

“Ah, it really is a demon,” she said, attempting to sit up with some difficulty as Sarutobi was sitting indignantly on her legs. “What do you mean, to stay safe?” she continued even as Sarutobi started a whole new train of insults.

“Someone bombed me,” she said, sounding far less bothered about that than she was about the small cut she’d just sustained. “They didn’t leave a note, or at least I didn’t see any before I got out, so I don’t know who it was – which makes me kind of wonder what the point is, you know, because if they’re trying to threaten me, how am I supposed to know who to feel threatened by? It’s awful terrorism, Tsukki, you should remember that, in case you ever feel like bombing anyone – leave a note. It’s only polite. Like, P.S., this is from Tsukki, ‘kay?”

Tsukuyo’s eyes were completely glazed over. Double-glazed, even. Like a ham. “Uh huh,” she said absently. “So, what – is your place totally trashed, then?”

“It blew up, Tsukki. Of course it’s trashed,” Sarutobi said imperiously, still crushing Tsukuyo’s legs with her terrible body weight and apparently forgetting which series she was in. (Explosions don’t mean anything in this manga, Tsukuyo reasoned; they’re almost always just a smoke bomb disguised as a plot device. The gorilla really was lazy.)

“Right,” Tskuyo muttered, feeling her legs finally shrivel up and die. All at once, she bucked her knees up and chucked Sarutobi off her and onto the floor, where she gave an indignant yelp. “You can sleep down there then.”

“Unbelievable!” Sarutobi cried. “I come running to your arms for shelter and this is how you act?! I should file for spousal abuse, that would show you–”

“Hang on,” Tsukuyo frowned over the side of the bed at her, “I thought we were deliberately not talking about it?”

“Well,” Sarutobi threw her hair behind her shoulders, attempting to regain the dignity she never had to begin with, “I’m sick of it, Tsukki, sick to death – months and months you’ve kept me waiting, and we’re not teenagers, you know, we don’t need to do this, oh, is she into girls, I wonder if she likes me, it’s so juvenile, really.”

It was all Tsukuyo could do to stare dumbfounded at her. She’d been so sure Sarutobi thought the same thing she did – that they were avoiding it, that they’d be too messy, any number of things – that to hear that Tsukuyo had left her waiting? That she’d been expecting her to make a move this whole time? Was frankly a huge shock to her system. Maybe that’s what you get when you never talk about your feelings, or the ones that actually matter, anyway.

“I’m being serious, you know!” Sarutobi got up and leaned a knee on the bed, one of her hands, frigid from running around in the middle of the night, grabbing Tsukuyo by the robe she slept in. “I know what you think of me, but I’m being serious, Tsukki! You don’t have to tiptoe around me, you know, I can handle it! I’m a mature woman! I have mature needs!”

Propped up on her elbows, Tsukuyo couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the situation. Sarutobi was hovering over her, the moonlight from the open window illuminating her to the point where she looked like a single frozen lightning bolt. “If that’s what you want, you know there’s many women here who can–”

Sarutobi shook her roughly. She deserved that one, at least. “Have you gone deaf? Is this selective hearing? If you’re going to reject me, Tsukki, go ahead and do it. I know you like to be all cool and aloof and detached, but I think I deserve that at least.”

“No, I– no. That’s not– I just didn’t know what to say. Sorry. Hang on.” Tsukuyo sat up against the wall and rubbed her eyes. Sarutobi perched on the very edge of the bed, meeting her eyes fiercely. “I always thought,” Tsukuyo said quietly, “that it wouldn’t work out. You know, ‘cause we always argue. That’s why I haven’t…”

“Oh, Tsukki,” Sarutobi said fondly, “you beautiful idiot. Listen,” she continued, moving to take up more than her previously allocated one square inch of the bed. “I argue with everyone. Or mostly everyone. I suppose it depends, you know, but I can’t seem to help myself, generally speaking, and–“

Catching Tsukuyo’s impatient glare, she cut herself off and got back on track with the grace of a drunk rhino. “Anyway, I think you’re the same, right? It’s just – just words, in the end, you know, and we don’t – I don’t think we’ve ever argued about anything that mattered, have we?”

Well, certainly, Sarutobi had made any number of jokes about Tsukuyo being a sex worker. Which she wasn’t. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she wasn’t, and the deliberate falsehoods got on her nerves more than the actual content of the jokes. But… they were jokes. Bad ones, but nothing that annoyed her for more than an hour at a time, and certainly nothing that bothered her emotionally. Frowning at the middle distance, Tsukuyo said at length, “Well, I guess not.”

“You see?” Sarutobi smiled gently at her. If it were any other time, Tsukuyo might get annoyed at being patronized, but mostly she just felt hopeful. “I – well, it’s up to you, but… I don’t think it would get in the way. Besides, I don’t think I could be with someone who didn’t argue with me, anyway; that’s so not my type.”

Tsukuyo considered this. And quickly realised she didn’t have to consider it at all. “Okay. So, do you want to try, then?”

“Of course I do, you wench, that’s what I’ve been saying,” Sarutobi sighed, and then demanded, “now kiss me.”

Tsukuyo kissed her. It was – well, it was a kiss. It was soft, warm, close – on face value, almost unremarkable. But, reaching up to touch Sarutobi’s neck, her cheek, her hair; feeling her hands on Tsukuyo’s arms, back, waist – it felt as if a new universe was being created between them, a whole lifetime becoming corporeal from the very moonlight as it touched their skin. It felt like an oath, and for the life of her, Tsukuyo couldn’t remember why she had waited so long.

#gintama #tsukisachi #tsukuyo #sarutobi ayame

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diyunho · 7 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Favorite Villain”

The “Match Made in Hell (MMIH)” Division of the Shadow World is in charge of pairing up villains. From time to time, members of the council actually have to take human form and go to Earth in order to take care of different issues. If it happens that they fall in love with the villain assigned to them, they will be trapped alongside him or her until that person dies. You just lost your assistant because it fell in love with Jonny Frost and you are determined to change that. The sooner the better.

It was just brought to your attention that Hkxcqd (that’s its name, doesn’t have an equivalent in human language) fell in love with the villain Jonny Frost, trusted right hand of the infamous Joker. You assistant was supposed to stay on Earth for a little bit in order to smooth things out for the Frost guy and his ex-girlfriend, this way they can be together again. Instead, the fool fell in love and…here you are without your main helper. That can’t happen!!! You are short on Shadows as it is.

You almost had a fit plus a meltdown, but you managed to pull yourself together since you decided you will go and see what you can do to bring back the poor lost soul. Well, Shadow. Whatever…

You float towards the “Body Assignment” Division, which places your kind in mortal shells , thinking about what rules you can bend or break in order to drag back Hkxcqd.

“Male or female?” you are asked by the front desk.

“Male!” you kind of shout since you’re in a bad mood.

“I’m so sorry, we are out of males,” the shy answer comes.

If you would have a mouth, it would be opened right now.

“Then why the hell did you offered me the option ??!!!” you scream, more and more irritated.

“I’m so sorry, I’m new…” “Goddammit, I hate newbies!!!!”

The entity wants to apologize again but you don’t have patience for this aberration.

“Shut up! Give me what we have available!!”

“Ummm, younger female? Older?”

“Younger! I want the best body; I’m in charge of my department, I can’t show up on Earth looking like crap, you moron!”

“I’m so sorry, yes, of course,” the newbie opens the portal that leads towards your destination and…

****************

“Oh my God boss!” your assistant jumps off the couch when you materialize at The Joker’s penthouse right by the balcony.

You blink a few times to adjust to the light and stretch so you can fit better in your body.

“You imbecile!” you start your tirade and walk towards the guilty party that shrivels up, startled. “What are you doing falling in love here, hm??!! Don’t you know I need you?! How can you do this to me??!!!! ” and you push your subordinate against the wall, annoyed to the maximum.

“I’m–I’m so terribly sorry, boss,” Hkxcqd stutters, nervous at the rant.

“Do I have to remind you I hold the record for the most consecutive years without falling in love with a mortal ?! 400 years !!! How come I can do it and you have to mess up, huh?! Shit, now I will have to find a way to go around this problem and take you back with me!!”

“Ummm…” your assistant gulps, not excited about the news you’re about to receive. “I marked myself with Jonny’s name and now there is absolutely nothing we can do…”

“You did what????!!!!!!!!!!” you yell so loud it hurts your own human ears.

Ahhh, the mark… If a Shadow tattoos their mortal skin with the villain’s name, there is nothing that can be done anymore. No rules to twist, no laws to alter, no nothing. In one word: you are screwed right now.

Hkxcqd lifts its shirt up to show you the ink on its tummy: “Jonny Frost– Favorite Villain” with a heart under it. A HEART !!!!!!!!

“Don’t you have any dignity left ??!!!” you lash out, losing your marbles. “ You do the most stupid thing and then you tattoo a heart by his name too ?!!!! I wish I could kill you right now but we don’t die so you’re lucky!!!!”

You hear the elevator and turn around when the doors open. The Joker steps inside first, followed by Jonny Frost. The enemy and his employer !!! But dammit, you can’t harm them since you’re on their side. But you sooooo want to!!!

While distancing a bit from your assistant, you take a quick glance to analyze their glowing halos: each villain has their personality type embedded above their heads that only Shadows can see.

Jonny Frost’s personality type is “Lethal Teddy Bear.” I guess that makes sense since your assistant specializes in this field. Still, doesn’t count for an excuse!

The Joker’s personality type reads “Jerk”. Oh, you are an expert in this personality trait, it’s your favorite! Anyway, that’s not the point.

“Hey, sunshine,” Frost smiles at his “girlfriend,” coming over towards you two. “Did you miss me, Ellie? And… who is this?” he frowns noticing the woman he’s never seen before.

Ellie ?! Hkxcqd could have picked something better.

“Yeah, who might you be, Doll?” The Joker stares you up and down, interesting in finding out the answer. He approaches slowly, inspecting the view.

My God, what a beautiful creature and she looks completely bitchy, he huffs to himself.

“Well, this is my cousin Y/N,” your assistant introduces you.

What?! Y/N ?! Couldn’t she find another name?!

“I didn’t know you have a cousin,” Jonny kisses his girl and reaches his hand for yours; you want to punch his lights out but can’t.

“Hi there,” you mutter, your eyes throwing spikes at him and grab his palm, shaking it.

“Yes, I do, from my mother’s side. I thought I mentioned before,” Ellie playfully shoves herself in Frost’s arms.

Wowwww, how embarrassing to see Hkxcqd in this state ! Completely smitten with the mortal. Jeez!

“Maybe you did,” the henchman slaps Ellie’s butt and she squeals, forgetting you are right there.

I’ll be damned, no trace of pride left in my subordinate !!! I’m just gonna…

“I’m The Joker, pretty Doll,” he interrupts your train of thought, kissing your hand.

What’s with the smirk, Casanova? you want to say but instead you utter all bitter and crabby: “I know!”

He winks and you lift your eyebrows.

“My reputation precedes me. So you’re new in town?” J licks his lips while you let go of his hand, confused on the experience. “You could say that,” the vague reply keeps him interested.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he blurs out and he doesn’t even know why. There’s something about you that’s hypnotizing.

“No!” you cut him off and J maliciously chuckles, passing his fingers through the perfectly styled green locks.

“Ahhhh, you’re feisty, I love that. I never back out from a challenge!”

“Huh?!” you crinkle your nose, not getting the point.

One of the few things that’s not known about in The Shadow World: The Joker is an expert in bitchy type, his favorite.

Frost and Ellie keep on whispering, prisoners in their own little world and the notorious villain offers his arm, grinning:

“Come on, Daddy will show you around, hm?”

“I think I’m good,” you refuse and he yanks you away, dragging you after him.

“I wasn’t asking, woman! Move it!”

“Let go!!!” you try to escape but he has this sinister aura when he pushes you in the elevator so you give up. J presses the button for lobby and your stupid assistant doesn’t even bother to glance your way. You are one step away from firing her even if she’s needed !!!

He traps you in a corner, purring:

“Do you bite and scratch, you bad kitty?”

Jesus, you remember his nonsense from reading his file: in the matter of fact, he has no partner for the moment, he was next on your Division’s list to take care of.

“You still don’t have a girlfriend?” you directly ask, wishing for a positive reply.

“Why, you’re volunteering?” the cockiness takes over.

“Nope,” you shiver which prompts snarling from the recipient of the rejection.

“Don’t lie,” he pulls on your bottom lip, surprised he doesn’t feel the urge to kill you after your remark.

“I’m not lying; since I’m here might as well find you a match, that’s what I do!” you tell him the truth but The Joker misunderstands, of course.

“Oh, you’re a matchmaker?” he snickers, entertained.

“U-hum, you could say that.”

“Lovely,” he plays along, thinking it’s a joke. “Lay it on me, Princess: what does the expert advice?”

“First of all, I’m not a Princess, I’m the head of my Department, OK?” you correct him and J inhales your scent, dizzy from the outwordly fragrance emanating within your human body.

“Are you now?” he sighs and the elevator finally stops for the lobby downstairs.

“Yes, I am!” you state with vehemence and he gets distracted: the cell phone goes off and he backs out, this way he can take a look at the screen.

“Seems I can’t show you Gotham for the moment, emergency meeting just came up. I’ll return in the morning, then we can have some fun, hm?”

You lift your shoulders up and couldn’t care less. He exits the elevator and you press the button to go up to the penthouse again, thinking:

What a jerk! , and you smile to yourself since you mean it as a compliment. Awesome villain, full of himself and arrogant as they get. No wonder he’s a legend in the Shadow World.

******************

Frost left also because he had to go to that meeting. The Joker doesn’t do anything without his right hand. Why?

A well-known fact in the Shadow World: the “Lethal Teddy Bear” villain type and “Jerk” type have great chemistry together, but they don’t even know it. Such a curse and a blessing in the same time. That’s why the Joker trusts Jonny so much and didn’t kill him yet even if he always threatens to do it. And that’s why Frost never quits his job and moves on because he believes his boss is the best, even if he’s so overbearing and demanding.

Too bad mortals can’t be aware of such things. Oh, well… it’s their disadvantage and has nothing to do with you and the ”Match Made in Hell” Department.

After you scolded and screamed at your foolish assistant for half an hour, you got tired and cooled down. Why?

A well-known fact in the Shadow World: you are “The Dark Menace” kind of Shadow and the so-called Ellie is “Easy- Breezy” Shadow type. Great chemistry between the two. That’s why you can’t hate Hkxcqd for long periods of time, no more than 10 years at once, which is nothing compared to eternity.

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffles, drinking another cocktail. “But I really love this human, I want to stay here until he dies.”

“You’re a complete imbecile!” you roll your eyes, also sipping from the alcohol she mixed for you. Hmm, not bad for being in a mortal body, this stuff makes you relax and you need it after being on the edge all day. “I hope he dies fast then, this way I can get you back.”

Ellie pouts, not happy about your wish.

“Give me a break !” you scoff. “ Jonny Frost is an excellent villain, but I don’t like him anymore!” and you signal for another drink.

You finish it in silence and then she fills up the glass again…and again… None of you want to speak anymore. Mostly because you are wasted at this point. Your eyelids are heavy but you continue to down drinks one after another until you finally fall asleep on the couch.

****************

“Oh, shit…my head,” you open your eyes, the hangover settling in. You passed out and didn’t even move from your spot.

“Hi, boss,” Ellie salutes, handing you a bottle of water.

“Yuuckk, I don’t miss being human,” you groan in pain when you realize your shoulder hurts.

“Boss, please, please, please don’t get mad at me…” she begs while you take a peek to see why your skin stings.

“OH.MY.GOD!” you manage to articulate, shocked.

There it is: “The Joker—Favorite Villain” inked on your flesh.You have no words, you are appalled.

“Please don’t do anything reckless,” your assistant pleads, realizing that this was maybe a catastrophic mistake. “I really want to stay here and I am sure you would have found a way to take me away even if I marked myself. So I marked you too, this way you’re stuck here with me…until our villains die,” and she covers her mouth, scared of what just came out.

“You…you ungrateful imbecile!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” you scream, staring at the tattoo. “How dare you???!!!! You tattooed me without my permission?! With The Joker’s name?! Are you kidding me??!!” “I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” Ellie whimpers and it’s so pathetic to hear because Shadows never cry.

“I’m going to tear you to pieces, you’re dead!!!!” you claw at your ink but it’s permanent and it won’t go away.

“I can’t die,” she starts bawling and you want to squeeze the life out of Hkxcqd but yeah, Shadows are immortal.

“I don’t care, I will still try!”

Before fulfilling your threat, you look at your tattoo again.

Now you’re bound to The Joker; not your favorite villain but the accursed ink says otherwise.

You take a deep breath and hiss:

“Goddamned Jonny Frost ruined my eternity!”