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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1979

The X-Men, those globe-trotting mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 117 - 128, X-Man Annual 3) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Terry Austin, George Perez

See Jean? Dark Phoenix is nothing: this is how you turn evil properly. (X-Men 123)

So, these things have been getting longer. Whoops.

Last year, plotlines tended to bleed over in one another, but this year is a lot more arc-based, jumping from location to location. This is basically X-Men: World Tour. After hitting Antarctica and the Savage Land, our team of merry mutants visits Japan, Canada, Egypt, Scotland and even a theme park! (And really, both Murder World and Disney Land are run by capitalist scumbags who pretend to be in it for the art, the only difference being that Arcade purposefully murders his guests.)

But, before we check in with the X-Men, we return to the Institute. See, there’s a mutual misunderstanding that wouldn’t be out of place in a Shakespearian tragedy: Jean and Charles think Beast and Jean were the only survivors of their fight with Magneto in Antarctica, while the rest of the X-Men believe they were the only survivors and Jean and Beast perished. Since the X-Men have been trapped in the Savage Land, nobody has been able to clear up the confusion.

With their grief driving a wedge between her and Charles, Jean leaves the mansion to deal with her feelings on her own. (She’ll end up on Muir Isle.)

This is adorable! And, if the whole "Empress of the known Universe "-thing blows up in her face, she can always become a barista at Starbucks. (X-Men 117)

Lilandra successfully persuades Xavier to leave Earth as her consort, now that there is nothing left for him. Xavier agrees, but not before having a flashback to the time he met another telepath named Amahl Farouk in Egypt. (The Shadow King isn’t relevant just yet, but he’ll become an important villain later on.)

The X-Men, meanwhile, cross a treacherous ocean on a raft and are picked up by a Japanese vessel. The Japanese do not allow them to call anyone, for some reason. Sure. When they finally dock in Japan - six weeks later - some arms dealer named Magnum Moses has put Agarishima is on fire. Like, literally an inferno of such big proportions that even Storm can’t do much.

What follows is an uninspired, slipshod adventure. For some reason, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing are there too, because the president needed American detectives to investigate Magnum Moses (?) and for some reason, Misty doesn’t know Jean thinks Scott is dead, nor does she mention she just saw Jean to Scott. AUGH. It will take almost a year for Scott to figure out Jean isn’t dead and it becomes increasingly more contrived. I get that Claremont needed to isolate Jean to make her susceptible to, er, a certain someone’s machinations, but holy fuck do I have to suspend my disbelief for all of this bullshit.

The only good things about this little arc are:

Sunfire is still a dick.

Wolverine meets Mariko Yashida, a Japanese girl who actually reciprocates his feelings, as opposed to Jean. I’ve mostly been ignoring his budding feelings for Jean, because I stopped finding love triangles interesting since I was 16 and watched The OC, so I can only applaud this development. Mariko brings out Wolverine’s soft side and it’s very adorable. Later on, she moves to NYC for some reason and they start dating.

There is something sweetly disarming about calling Wolverine ‘beautiful’. (X-Men 120)

Anyway, Magnum is holding Japan hostage: either they give him what he wants - I think that might be money, sorry, wasn't paying attention - or he sinks Japan by activating the fault lines and you guys, I am sooo bored. Unsurprisingly, the X-Men stop him and for once, it’s Banshee who gets to play the most important part.

It’s a good thing I was terrible at science, otherwise I might have to point out that earthquakes and sonic waves don’t work that way! I simply get to be entertained by little rascal Colossus, plugging his ears like a toddler, and Sunfire’s gritty determination to not be impressed by some silly screaming Irishman. (X-Men 119)

Banshee pays a steep price for the victory, however: his vocal chords end up damaged, leaving him effectively powerless for the remainder of the year.

Oh, and here’s interesting fact about the above spread: you may or may not know that Chris Claremont and John Byrne were notoriously terrible at working together; this issue became a particular sore point between the creators. See, Byrne wanted to run the above panel without the sound of ‘Kra-Koom’, believing the art was strong enough to convey the destruction. He was livid when the finished product ended up containing a sound effect after all. I get your frustration, man, but if you want a writer who knows how to say less with more, you should maybe not work with Claremont?

(One of the reasons Claremont liked being so verbose and descriptive in his scripts was because otherwise, the artist would fill in the blanks using his own imagination. It’s no wonder these two found it hard to work together.)

On the flight to the US of A, Colleen Wing hits on Cyclops. It has to be the jawline, right? It can’t be the personality. All of a sudden, a snow storm causes their plane to be diverted to Calgary. The cause of this delay is Alpha Flight, who want their Wolverine back!

When even the narration is all “and they think they’re equal to any team of superheroes”, you know you’re a bunch of C-listers. Ugh. (X-Men 121)

Vindicator, previously known as Captain Alpha. He changed his name after accidentally shooting Moira that one time, which is exactly the kind of hollow gesture this dude would make. Ugh. If you think his new-found remorse won’t let him threaten an airplane chock full of innocent passengers, you would be wrong.

Shaman, doctor by day, magic user by night. Him and his magical little pouch are to blame for the snow storm.

Sasquatch, Canada’s answer to the Hulk. (Hilariously, the theory on why he turns furry instead of green is because he’s closer to the Aurora Borealis and this somehow messes with the radiation?)

Snowbird, a young Arctic goddess. Precious. To be cherished. Barely there for this adventure, sadly.

Northstar, an arrogant, hot-headed speedster, the twin brother of

Aurora, a lover, not a fighter. Together, they have light powers.

Vindicator and Shaman hog most of the spotlight, so Alpha Flight continues to be the ever-loving worst. They’re really wasting Northstar’s first appearance here. Here's why they suck:

Alpha Flight accidentally smashes a plane and keeps threatening to drag Wolverine back to the military against his will.

They push the cover price of the comic to a whoppin’ 40 cents.

Johnny fuckin’ Hudson even provokes Storm into an attack in the middle of a mall.

Shaman lets his blizzard get out of control.

After Storm fixes this mistake for him, Northstar has the gall to knock her out, “because she’s obviously the strongest”. Like, you’re not wrong, but damn, y’all a bunch of unpleasant superheroes.

To stop the fight, Wolverine decides to turn himself in. The X-Men leave, but while flying back, they already make plans to save their teammate. Wolverine saves them the trouble, casually sauntering into the cockpit while claiming that pulling a fast one on them was the easiest thing ever.

To be fair, I understand why you’d want to put a country between yourself and those bozos.

And finally, the X-Men are home! Xavier left them the equivalent of a Post-It saying “off to space”, so they try to pick up their life as best they can. None of them contact Jean’s parents, make an attempt to visit her grave or happen to see Beast on TV and by now, my suspension of disbelief is stretched so far that it could replace Reed Richards on the Fantastic Four.

Ororo, meanwhile, makes a little pilgrimage to Harlem, to the building she grew up in before she moved to Cairo.

I have failed you as a recapper, because I have absolutely no idea how to parse this scene. (X-Men 122)

I think I’d have to write a full-on thesis before I could properly analyse this, because so many things intersect here: poverty and racism, the boundaries of a superhero comic, confronting a (shared) past. I can’t even fully gauge if this is a clumsy, privileged attempt at tackling a serious topic or rather, a valuable moment in a comic that continually tries to expand on its themes of racism, exclusion and prejudice. One thing I will note is:

Luke Cage delivers the sort of trite conclusion that they’re superheroes: they’re better at fighting Galactus than at fixing the human condition. Point is, he kind of has to believe that, doesn’t he? It’s the sort of blind spot we all permit ourselves: you can’t fix everything. None of us have the power to fix the earth, or humanity, or the economy, or whatever: if you’re lucky, you can maybe tend to your own garden and leave it better than you found it, ensuring some happiness for yourself and a few loved ones.

Chasing bank robbers is easy. Superhero stuff. But here? Who do you attack here? These kids, or the system that failed them? You can’t really punch a needle exchange into being. Maybe that’s the appeal of superhero comics: there’s a clear villain, which is so sorely lacking in our day to day lifes. There, we are ruled by systems that are rooted in inequality, patriarchy, gender...

But Storm isn’t like Luke Cage, not in this regard. Before she became an X-Man, she used her powers to help people that came to her. And the whole point of the X-Men - other than beating up villains in colorful spandex - is that they want to change the system. They want to fix things, they want to fix a dark part of human nature, the part that hates which we fear.

Storm doesn’t really respond to Luke Cage here, but we know she’ll keep fighting the good fight, despite insurmountable odds. You can’t fix mankind, I don’t think, but you can sure as hell try.

*coughs*

Anyway!

Black Tom and Juggernaut hire Arcade… to kill the X-Men! I’m not sure why? I thought these two usually attempted to solve things on their own and Arcade’s fee is, like, a million bucks, so…? Maybe Black Tom asked his boyfriend what he wanted for his birthday and Juggernaut clenched his fists and said “I WANT THE X-MEN DEAD” and things escalated from there.

So, Arcade is a subtle villain. While Scott and Colleen Wing are on a date, this happens:

I can’t decide which is funnier: kidnapping people by sneaking up on them with A GARBAGE TRUCK or the fact that Spider-Man deduces this is Arcade’s doing by the noise alone. (X-Men 123)

Spider-Man doesn’t really figure into the rest of the plot, by the way.

Arcade successfully kidnaps all of the X-Men (and their dates: Colleen, Amanda and Betsy). Who is this Arcade? Well, he is an assassin who lets his victims run through a gauntlet of some sort, testing them with potentially deadly results in his Murderworld. He’s like a discount-combo of Saw and the Joker, except a lot less competent and a lot more spoiled rich kid. He barely kills anyone, ever, until maaaybe Avengers Arena, some forty years later.

Arcade veers heavily to the silly side of the silly-to-sinister scale, but he at least commits to a theme. Bonus is that trapping your heroes in a bunch of ricocheting balls fubars them ever-so beautifully. (X-Men 123)

This whole adventure is very silly and has very little bearing on the overarching plot, but it’s a fun enough romp: Cyclops nearly gets squashed by a hydraulic press, Nightcrawler gets attacked by bumper cars with chain saws attached to them, stuff like that. The absolute best part is when Colossus is hypnotized by an illusion of the KGB and becomes THE PROLETARIAN.

His insignia is Vladimir Lenin, y’all.

After various shenanigans, everybody is freed from their respective booby traps, everyone except Colossus. See, Piotr has been feeling down, torn between the exciting new loyalty to the X-Men and the more dutiful loyalty to his family and his motherland. (Also, he’s been feeling like a failure because he came up short a couple a times, aw.) Those feelings are exactly what Arcade has been abusing, but when Colossus comes in for the kill, Storm gives the most heartfelt plea:

I’m not crying, you’re crying. (X-Men 124)

Arcade’s all: “Eh, can’t win ‘em all” and yeets the X-Men out of Murderworld. The story has barely any other repercussions, except we stop seeing Colleen Wing and Betsy (Piotr’s date) after this. To be fair, being kidnapped by a super villain is a good reason to stop seeing someone.

Even more inconsequential is the adventure in the Annual. The only important thing to glean from there is that, when Thor is unavailable, Storm is a suitable substitution. Couldn’t agree more.

The quality of the comic has been steadily ascending throughout the year and ends on a supremely high note: Proteus. Because I think it might be Claremont’s best work so far, I’ll be dedicating a full post to that. (Man, that 10-picture-limit is a real bummer, huh?)

Ugliest Costume: I don’t care, I just want someone to cosplay the Proletarian.

Best new character: There’s actually a few options - Snowbird, Northstar, Proteus - but both Jean-Paul and Narya don’t really show their best sides this year, so I’m going in a different direction. My pick is the Shadow King. He is a very effective foil to Xavier, perhaps even moreso than Magneto. I know I rag on Xavier and his cavalier attitude to bending others to his will a lot, but imagine if you had his powers: wouldn’t you just make people do whatever you want? Just, like, all the time? The Shadow King is an effective reminder of what Charles would have been like, had he been immoral. (Well, more immoral.)

No matter how cool your psychic battle may be, this is what it looks like to the rest of the world. (X-Men 117)

Turns evil: Colossus, for the first time!

What to read: 117, 125 - 129.

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thegoodprincess · 3 years

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Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 6

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.6k [series, ongoing]

Rating: N/A

Warnings: None

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 6. Name For a Face

“Tigers die and leave their skins; people die and leave their names.” - Japanese Proverb

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While I was awaiting his return, I finished up the remainder of my tea. It had gone a bit cold since it was first poured. Nevertheless, I still drank it, savoring the sweet flavor as it slid down my throat. I decided to lay down on the sofa to rest my sore body. Sinking down into the cushions and staring blankly up at the ceiling, I wondered if I should have went to retrieve the boy’s wallet instead of Malachi. I didn’t want his willingness to help to be misinterpreted as him enabling my own foolish actions. Otherwise he would have been just as much at fault, if we were to find ourselves in the midst of chaos. He had always been eager to assist with whatever trouble I had found myself in, ready to bare the burden with open arms. It sometimes felt like he was too loyal to me, like he was just blindly complying to my wishes. I didn't want him to help me because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to. In turn it made me feel guilty about how I treated Malachi, as if I was exploiting the nature of our friendship.

Lost in the guilt-ridden thoughts of my conscience, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I had closed my eyes. I had fully intended to stay awake until Malachi returned, so I reluctantly opened them. However, I found it to be a struggle to keep them that way. Fatigue was starting to set in as I tried desperately to blink the sleepiness out of my eyes. The calming effect of the rose tea paired with the soothing sound of the logs crackling in the fire created a comfortable ambiance for me to relax to. Eventually my limbs began to feel heavy and my breathing slowed enough for me to finally lose the battle against the Sandman. Just like that, I readily drifted off into the unconscious.

It felt like Malachi was gone for quite some time before I was awoken by a small crashing noise that emanated from in front of the fireplace. Looking drowsily in the direction of the sound, I squinted to faintly make out Malachi readjusting a drying rack I had set close to the fire to dry the boy’s clothes. Through blurred vision I saw him carefully hang the articles back into their positions on the bars, spreading them out to ensure they dried properly.

“That damn thing needs to be moved. Why would she set that cursed thing right there? Stupid human boy and his stupid human clothes. What if I had fallen into the fire and burned my as—,” he whisper-yelled to himself irritated before he realized he had woken me up. “My apologies, I did not mean to wake you.” He bowed his head embarrassed of his crude outburst. I stretched and yawned, feeling the muscles in my back strain from the movement before sitting up. “It’s fine,” I waved my hand with blithe disregard for his unnecessary apology. “How long were you gone? I fell asleep waiting for you.”

“Not long.”

I rubbed the delicate skin around my eyes to get a better view of him. That’s when I took in his whole figure. Looking towards his legs I noticed that his pants were thoroughly soaked all the way up to his shins, from no doubt trudging around in the snow. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? You’re soaked. Here sit in front of the fire to warm up.” I quickly scrambled off the sofa and offered him my seat.

“I can assure you I am quite alright. I am nowhere in the condition you were in earlier tonight.” He assured with a sincere smile while taking a seat next to me. I awkwardly sat back down again.

Suddenly remembering why he left, I anxiously inquired, “Did you find it?”

“Yes.” He simply answered pulling it from his robe. The leather of the wallet was cold and stiff from getting wet. “And it did not take me long, it was just buried deeper than we originally thought. The snow has picked up quite a bit since we last left.” I held the wallet not ready to open it as he continued. “I also disposed of the gun and the patch of ice he fell through, you will be pleased to know it froze back over.”

“That’s good. No evidence. Do you think the old man will report the boy’s involvement.”

“No. I already took care of it.” I furrowed my brows confused. “I took the liberty of tracking him down and wiping his memory.” Malachi explained.

“Oh. Thank you. I didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yes. Well, you are lucky I am the best,” Malachi facetiously boasted. I rolled my eyes.

“What about the gun man?”

“Did I wipe his memory? No, I want him to live with the guilt until it consumes him.” The expression in Malachi’s eyes turned unnervingly dark. “And I doubt he will anonymously report the boy’s death. Not unless he wants to involve himself with the authorities or worse get caught by them. He will probably try to go about living his life as if nothing ever happened.”

“That’s horrible. But it’s good for us, I guess. Less of a mess to clean up. Not that I haven’t already jeopardized enough for us as it is.” I ashamedly spoke looking down at the floor.

“You are too hard on yourself.” He frowned concerned.

“I have to be. I can’t make mistakes. Especially when they effect those I cherish most.” I said looking purposefully at him.

“Ha, even a divine being such as yourself is allowed to make mistakes. And for as long as you allow me, I will always be there by your side to help you fix what is considered broken. Even if that means going against the rules of our nature.”

“Yes, but you said, if the consequences were dire then I was to take respons—,”.

Malachi promptly held a hand up to stop me, “I am well aware of what I said. However, if your actions do not bode well, I will still remain faithful to you, and only you.” He chided. He then took a second to soften his voice before continuing, “Allow me to clarify. It is my choice, and I choose to help you not because I feel it is my duty to do so, but because I want to help you. Why will you not understand that? We are as thick as thieves, even when that means cheating death,” he quipped. And with that he chastely kissed my forehead to put my guilty thoughts at ease.

I decided to steer the conversation away from my self-scrutiny, and brought our attention back to the wallet in my hands, “Did you look in it?” Immediately after the question left my mouth, adrenaline started to surge through my veins. I was well aware of the spike in my heart rate and the perspiration gathering on the nape of my neck.

“No, I thought I would let you do the honors.”

“Oh. Okay.” Nervous, I turned the wallet over in my quivering hands and reveled in the feeling of physically holding the piece of leather. The movement made it hard to undo the snap closure, and my slightly sweaty palms were doing me no favors as they slid against the leathery texture. Finally after a brief struggle I was able to open it.

There inside his wallet were some clear card holders with one containing a card with a small picture of him. Holding it closer to my face I realized it was his driver’s license. To the right of his picture, in printed text was the one thing on my mind that I had been wondering for months, his name. “His name is… Kim Taehyung,” I read aloud smiling. “Taehyung.” I repeated again letting the two syllables roll around in my mouth. I wanted to keep repeating his name like a mantra, giddy with excitement that I finally knew it.

“Well, now that you know the human’s name, I would advise you check on him. Speaking of which, I am surprised to not find you with him now. Why is that?” He eyed me suspiciously.

“I was waiting for you. He’s safe in my bed. I could hear the steady pace of his heartbeat from out hear.” This was a half truth, I also wanted to avoid the temptation of staring at his sleeping form. “You, however, were out there in the snow looking for something I needed, cold and alone. I was worried.” I may have been preoccupied with the probability of the boy’s, no Taehyung’s, life; but that didn’t mean I was any less concerned about Malachi’s wellbeing.

“Ah, so you do care,” he teasingly joked.

“Of course I care about you. You’re my friend.”

“As are you.”

“Thank you.” I sweetly hummed the sentiment for the fifth time tonight.

He nodded as to convey that it wasn’t a problem. “It was my pleasure little bird.” He patted me on the head. “You should check on the boy and get some rest.” He nodded towards my bedroom door.

“I will. I suggest taking a warm bath before bed. Goodnight Malachi.”

“Thank you for the recommendation. Goodnight my dear.” He said as he got up and walked towards the bathroom.

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After Malachi had left to run a bath for himself, I decided to put out the fire. I could instantly feel the temperature of the room drop several degrees. While blowing out the last candle, I looked towards the window. Through the glass I was able to clearly make out the moon. Its light that penetrated from outside was more than enough for Malachi to see when he came out to go to bed. As I made my way over to my bedroom door I counted my steps until I reached it. I walked with one foot directly in front of the other with my arms out to the sides of me, as if I was walking on a balance beam. I know I must have looked somewhat silly, but it was all in an effort to prolong the inevitable, as well as simultaneously calm my nerves. I ultimately didn’t want to seem too eager to see Taehyung. Finally reaching my door I briefly hesitated before turning the knob. I then walked through the threshold and quietly closed the door. Once the lock softly clicked into place, I leaned my head against the wood and took a few slow breaths in order to prepare myself. I didn’t want to look in his direction just yet because I knew once I saw him it would be difficult to look away.

Over on my bedside table was a candle that I wished to light. Using the moonlight, I repeated my odd ritual from earlier, deliberately looking straight at the floor as I made my way over. Except this time I made sure to walk with normal footing. I would have been mortified if I had tripped and potentially disturbed his sleep.

Placing Taehyung’s wallet on the table, I opened the drawer and blindly felt around for a box of matches. After a few failed attempts, I finally grabbed ahold of one. I plucked one match from the container and struck it against the side of the box. Not wanting the flame to go out, I quickly touched it to the tip of the candle wick and flicked the used match to put it out. Almost immediately my senses were flooded with the rich earthy musk of amber and sandalwood. Closing my eyes, I took a brief moment to appreciate the comforting aroma. The candle’s flickering light intimately lit up the small area around my bed causing our shadows to bounce on the wall. I then leisurely turned my head and saw him.

Tucked into my silk sheets, he laid flat on his back with his whole body, from the neck down, hidden under the blankets. I watched him sleep peacefully as I sat on the floor and knelt near the side of my bed. From under the silky blankets, I could make out the subtle yet steady rise and fall of his chest. If I listened close enough I could hear the sound of his soft inhales and exhales. Continuing my gaze upwards, it landed on his neck and the pretty curve of his jaw. From there I was met with the sight of his beautiful face, his expression passive. Slumber had made his features look innocent. The moles that were on his cheek, lip, and under his eye reminded me of the stars that sparsely dusted the sky on a cloudy night. They somewhat reminded me of a constellation and it briefly dawned on me that if I were to connect them, would I be any closer to navigating my zealous yet enigmatic feelings for him.

Against my pillows his head rested delicately. His hair was almost fully dry. A few locks in the front of his head curled around his face, while the rest fell elegantly onto the pillow like a halo. Its golden hues were complimented by the iridescent pearly sheen of my pillow case, and the sight created a picturesque scene worth committing to memory. I couldn’t help but be enamored by him. He looked otherworldly, almost like an angel. He could have very well been one of the ones that I had come across when I visited Heaven from time to time.

Finally able to touch his face in a way that wasn’t correlated to life threatening peril, I gently brushed my knuckles against his cheek and tenderly traced his jawline with my fingertips in curious fascination. Mesmerized by the feeling of the suppleness of his warm to the touch skin, I pondered how I got so lucky as to be this close to him, while also being able to reach out and touch him. It was almost intoxicating. And what was even better, is that now I had his name to go along with his face.

“So your name is Tae-hyung.” I whispered each syllable slowly more to myself than him, dramatically emphasizing the pronunciation of both. I smiled at the new found knowledge. “It suits you.”

Not long after admiring his sleeping form, I began to feel like my conscious reality was fraying around its edges. Walking a few feet on my knees to the end of my bed, I took a cotton blanket slewn messily over the end of the bed post and draped it over my shoulders. In my drowsy state I placed a gentle kiss against Taehyung’s forehead. I then turned to blow out the candle after my rash display of affection, but saw something that I thought was peculiar out of the corner of my eye. For what felt like a split second I could have sworn I had seen a brief flash of very faint light emitting from around his head in the dim candle light. However, I attributed it to being a trick of the light, after all I was exhausted and my blurry tired vision wasn’t the most reliable at this exact moment.

Taking one last longing look at his face in the moonlight after blowing out the candle [as if this would be the last time I saw him], I rested my head against my arm and was lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his calm breathing, hopeful for whatever tomorrow brought us.

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harlot-of-oblivion · 5 years

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Sweet Sacrilege

It's been a month since you revealed your vampiric nature to Vergil and you're still trying to quell one of the most crippling flaws of your curse. This is a continuation of Partake of Me.

I figured spooky spice would make a good treat for all of ya'll on this Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain. Enjoy! 💕

There is nothing quite like walking through a cemetery in the middle of the night, even if it is really cliché for you, a vampire, to enjoy a midnight stroll among the dead buried deep beneath the ground. As you pass by a grand memorial you muse that in order for it to be cliché, there must be some truth to it. There is a certain peace that hangs in the air that never fails to soothe your undead soul. Perhaps it is the various gravestones and statues that glisten in the moonlight or the odd tranquility of death. Whatever it may be, it never fails to distract you from your troubled thoughts as you ponder the mysteries of the lives laid to rest.

As you make your way towards the back of the cemetery, your mind goes back to how you ended up there walking alone…agonizing over how utterly weak you must appear in the eyes of your lover now. After that momentous night in the motel, you and Vergil have been together romantically for a month. A shiver runs down your spine as you reminisce about all the long nights writhing in pleasure between his sheets and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear. And his blood…never have you fed so well in all your immortal life.

I could say the same for him, you wryly thought as you rub the side of your neck, almost feeling the tingling imprint of his ravenous bite. With all the noise that goes on during those nights, it is no wonder that Dante quickly finds out about your intimate relationship with his brother. Sometimes you catch him wearing a shit-eating grin when you pass by him, but he never asks about it. Neither does he question the bloody sheets that end up in the wash with his clothes. There is no denying that he knows about your vampiric nature now and you kind of expected him to confront you about it, but nothing is ever simple with Dante around.

Instead, he has been testing out every trick in the book that reveals vampires for the past few weeks: crucifixes, holy water, garlic…he even placed a mirror in every single room! It is just a shame that not all of those tricks actually work. You are not averse to any holy symbols or blessed water, and garlic just plain stinks. You do not cast a reflection though, so it has been a bit tricky to navigate the shop without passing one of those damn mirrors. He even baited you to cross running water one day after a really bad thunderstorm. And you have no doubt that if there is a large body of water nearby, he would test out whether or not you can walk across it.

Vergil smirks every time you complain about his brother’s antics. He always suggests that perhaps you should just tell Dante when you are done ranting and raving. And you always tell him that you do not want to give his brother the satisfaction…you will damn well tell Dante when you feel like it. Plus, it is kind of entertaining to see what new tactic he takes and the shocked expression he tries to hide every time his little test goes awry. You still have a giggle fit every time you remember his confusion when you put on the rosary and take a swig of holy water out of its decanter before dramatically flipping your hair and saunter off into the next room…and then surreptitiously spit the water out into a nearby rubbish bin.

Such a shame. It was all going so well…until you fucked it all up.

You growl at your pessimistic thought as you stalk through the oldest part of the cemetery. The upkeep of this section is obviously neglected, nature retaking the stone slabs with every overgrown plant creeping along its surface. It very rarely receives any visitors, abandoned and forgotten long ago by the living. As your preternatural eyes scan the surrounding gnarled trees and old graves, your mind decides to torment itself by going over the incident that brought you here to begin with.

It is absurd. You know that Dante did not mean to tap into one of your curses most primal fears. You are watching Vergil spar with his brother, admiring his strong physique and his agile legs as they glide gracefully across the floor. In between their bouts, Dante regales you with a colorful account of the quiptoth tree. Normally, you only half hear his ridiculous stories, distracted by Vergil’s smug grin as he purposefully stretches his body in the most delightful way. But this one held your attention, totally engrossed as he boasts about how much blood he had to wade through as he made his way through the tree. You suspect that this is another one of his tactics to out you as a vampire, but you cannot help the stirring of your hunger as you imagine Vergil covered from head to toe in blood…it would truly be a delectable sight!

All of your lustful fantasies come to a screeching halt as Dante tenses and suddenly turns around. He dodges to the side, no longer blocking your view of Vergil and you catch a glimpse of the Yamato as it flashes straight at you. Your insidious paranoia kicks into high gear as you fight the intense urge to flee as far away as possible. You know deep down that Vergil will redirect his attack, but it is incredibly difficult to override your terrified thoughts while in the beginning stages of a potential fear frenzy.

But then Dante just had to make it worse by wielding fire. Seeing those deadly flames blazing so close to your face turns your last shred of control to dust. You can still see the horrifying look on Vergil’s face as you dash away from the fire. A vicious hiss escapes your lips as you exit the building as fast as possible, using some of your blood to bolster your unnaturally swift retreat. It is only once you reach the cemetery do you let yourself slow down, letting its tranquility wash over you and calm your fears.

Your peace of mind slowly turns into shame as you finally arrive at your favorite mausoleum. Its gothic architecture shines like a beacon in the night as the crosses on the roof cast eerie shadows on the stairs leading up to it. A lone stone altar rests at the foot of the stairs, empty flower vases adorning its forsaken surface. A trio of winged stone statues surround the altar, hands pressed in pray as they mourn the loss of poor souls. You push aside the vases to make room before hopping on top of the altar, laying down to gaze up at the stars as guardian angels woefully loom over you.

As the ever-burning orbs twinkle in the night sky you cannot help but smile as you recall the fond name Vergil likes to use in private. The grin falters though, knowing that after that display of weakness, you may very well not hear his sensuous voice refer to you as his Evening Star ever again. Your mind starts to whirl, trying to figure out how to even begin explaining to him that…you are utterly terrified of the Yamato.

Before you revealed yourself as a vampire, you had the constant fear of him turning that powerful blade against you if he ever found out. You used to have crippling nightmares of him lobbing your head clean off your shoulders, his handsome face never showing remorse as he mercilessly cuts you down. When he shows you that he means you no harm, you thought that would be enough to alleviate your fears…but apparently, you were horribly mistaken. And now, here you are…hanging out in a somber cemetery as you stare into the void and wallow in self-pity like the damned cliché that you are.

He deserves someone free of this damn bloody curse.

He deserves someone better than you.

The sound of distant footsteps startles you out of your gloomy contemplation. An annoyed hiss escapes your lips as you quickly sit up, displeased that you have to deal with an unwanted visitor. I’m really not in the mood for drunk teenagers or creepy cultist, you thought wryly. You decide that it would be best to just cloak yourself in the shadows of their mind and hide until they hopefully move on. It only takes a moment to render yourself essentially invisible to the naked eye. All you need to do is stay perfect still to maintain this state while waiting for them to pass by and hope they do not linger long.

A light breeze blows by and you catch a familiar scent: crisp and clean snow in the dead of winter. Your eyes snap over just as your devilish paramour rounds the corner of the pathway leading up to the mausoleum. Even in your miserable state you cannot help but to admire Vergil from afar. His slicked back white hair glows in the ethereal light of the moon. And his stoically striking face never fails to stoke the flames of desire inside you. He is wearing his usual blue attire, and as he gets closer you spot the Yamato by his side. The sudden impulse to run courses through your body, but you are able keep your composure and stay motionless.

The direction of the wind changes. Your scent must have been carried along with it because Vergil abruptly pauses and takes a deep breath. Being the Son of Sparda gives him many advantages, such as heightened senses on par with a vampire. You feel pretty confident that he will figure out where you are shortly. His silver blue eyes gleam as he strides purposefully along the well-worn path until he stops just in front of the stone altar. You remain silent and still, testing him to see if he can detect your concealed presence.

Vergil examines the trio of angels and the empty flower vases you moved to the side. His brow crinkles in thought as he touches a faint mark left behind by one of the vases. Then those stunning eyes glance over in your direction as his hand reaches out towards your face. One corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk as his warm fingers caress your cheek. You let go of the shadows obscuring you from his vision as you lean into his gentle touch. He grins in victory as his thumb strokes your chin.

“There you are, my Evening Star.”

Your smirk widens at the sound of his endearment before wilting a bit. “I don’t really feel very proud at the moment…more like dreadful,” you joke with downcast eyes.

Vergil gently lifts your chin and meets your eyes. “Tell me of your troubles, Y/N. Perhaps I can help.”

You shake your head glumly. “You can’t help me with this. It’s just another part of my curse.” A dejected sigh escapes your lips. “If I was older or stronger…but in all honesty, I shouldn’t have been distracted by Dante.”

“You did seem quite enthralled by his tale,” he comments, clearly amused as his hand sweeps your hair out of your face and brushes it delicately behind your ear.

“I couldn’t help it!” you exclaim wildly. “It’s damn near impossible to keep my hunger in check when the handsome devil you constantly crave is looking mighty scrumptious!”

Vergil chuckles as he takes a step closer and presses his lips to your forehead. The feel of his soft lips against your cold skin makes you gasp as pleasant tingles erupt throughout your body. Your head lifts up just as he bends down and both of your lips meet in a passionate kiss. You moan softly and scoot closer to him, moving so your feet dangle off the edge of the stone altar. A low hum of appreciation emanates from his throat when you wrap your legs around his waist and your hands slide up his chest. His wicked tongue swipes at your bottom lip, demanding to explore your mouth, and you allow him entry as your tongue bids him welcome. You are instantly lost in his kiss, relishing the feel of his body warming your skin as his hand moves down and squeezes your hip.

Vergil softly withdraws and releases your lips after a few more teasing strokes of his tongue. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says while nuzzling his face close to your ear.

“I know. It’s just…” you trail off, not wanting admit it out loud.

“You’re afraid of the Yamato.”

You shiver at his forthright words. “I’m not-”

Vergil quickly lifts the Yamato and pops the hilt away from its sheath. You instantly react like a spooked cat, hissing and spitting as you try to back away from the object of your fear. The vice grip on your waist prevents you from getting far though. “Shh…it’s alright,” he gently reassures as he pulls you close. It takes a few more words of comfort before you to calm down and rest your head on his shoulder, blocking the Yamato from your view.

“I would never turn its blade upon you,” he solemnly promises as his hand rubs your back.

“I know, I know,” you mutter against his coat. “I’m just weak.”

“You are not weak,” he counters as he moves away and coaxes you to stare into his fierce eyes by resting his forehead against your brow. “I will not tolerate any form of self-contempt from one of the strongest women I have ever known.”

You smile sadly and nod your head in acknowledgement of his complimentary words. “You’re right…it’s just a deep-seated fear of swords beheading me,” you lament before leaning in and giving his pouty lips a soft peck. Your head tilts to the side as you offer an afterthought. “At least it’s not as bad as the threat of fire though.”

Vergil is quiet as he gazes pensively into your eyes. “I cannot do much about your fear of flames,” he admits after a few moments, “but I do believe I can ease your mind about the Yamato.”

Your brow furrows in curiosity. “How?”

“You once feared that I would destroy you, correct?” he gently prods as his hand slowly glides up your back.

“Yeah…kind of a confusing time for me,” you mumble, the embarrassment of that mere fact evident in your voice as your eyes tear away from his intense stare. “Fearing the very object of your desire.”

“But I managed to assuage your fear,” he starts as his hand reaches the back of your neck. “…and your desire,” he adds, the tone of his sensuous voice dropping low as he grasps the side of your neck. His thumb tenderly strokes the sensitive skin at the crook of your neck…one of his favorite spots to bite and partake of you. “That night I proved to you that I meant no harm.”

You sigh in pleasure as your head turns to bare more of your neck to him. “Where are you going with this, Vergil?”

“Do you trust me?” he asks gravely.

Your eyes immediately dart over to meet his gaze in earnest. “Yes. Wholeheartedly.”

Vergil smirks and gives you a hard kiss before motioning you to hop off the altar. You follow his lead, thinking that he means to take you back to the shop and straight to his room. Your body trembles in excitement as your mind shuffles through all the erotic possibilities that may happen in his bed. He guides you a couple of steps away from the altar before telling you to stop in your tracks. You quirk an eyebrow as he backs a few feet away and takes an offensive stance. Your eyes widen in shock as his right hand grasps the Yamato’s handle.

“Don’t move,” he commands, pinning you with the most intense glare you have ever witnessed on his gorgeous face. You close your eyes as your body trembles again, but this time in apprehension as you once again fight the urge to run. He won’t hurt me…I trust him. Using all of your willpower, you strengthen your resolve and manage to quell your instinctual response. You open your eyes and give Vergil a slight nod, letting him know you are ready for whatever comes next.

All is quiet and calm. The only sound in the cemetery now is the autumn breeze howling through the trees. Both of you are as motionless as the stone angels surrounding the altar for what feels like hours…until Vergil furrows his brow in concentration and a sudden series of bright blue flashes whiz by you in quick succession. Your body seizes up as you slam your eyes shut. It only lasts for a few seconds, but you still struggle to follow his instructions to remain still.

Your eyes crack open just as Vergil is sheathing his sword with utmost style and grace. When the hilt of the sword snaps against the scabbard, you hear the soft ripping of cloth before the dress you are wearing falls to the ground in pieces. You jump back and hiss in annoyance as you stare daggers at the smug devil currently grinning at your skimpy undergarments: a set of matching black bra and panties along with garters holding up your black nylon stockings. Your hands settle on your hips as you tap your high heeled foot in irritation.

“You better buy me another dress, Vergil.”

His nasally cocky laugh bursts out as he walks back to you, making you huff indignantly as your head turns away from him with your nose up in the air. The sizzling warmth of his body heat engulfs you as his right arm encircles your waist. “I will buy only the best for you,” he whispers against the top of your head, making you feel weak in the knees as you look up at him. “You did well, Y/N.”

Vergil pushes you back against the stone altar and quickly pulls you into a heated kiss. Your agitation instantly disappears as it is quickly replaced by a simmering hunger. His tongue pushes past your wanting lips and begins to lick your elongated fangs. A sultry groan escapes your throat as your arms whip around his neck, begging him to stop his teasing and give you have a taste. You feel him smile against your mouth as he softly laps at your fangs a few more times…then swiftly cuts the flat of his tongue against the point of your fang.

His rich blood touches your tongue and ramps your hunger up to a higher degree as you moan in satisfaction. You lose yourself in the familiar flavor of his exquisite nectar as a soothing warmth seeps through your body. It is exactly how a steaming cup of mulled wine used to heat you up in the darkest of winter nights. You are so deeply taken by the greedy kiss that you almost do not feel the soft caress on the back of your thigh…or the firm press of something hard on your bottom.

You release his mouth with a soft purr and realize that both of his hands are now holding you close. Your eyes flit around as you wonder where Vergil put the Yamato. He grins in amusement as he moves his left hand…and you feel something rub your leg, butt, and back in unison. You look over your shoulder and blink in disbelief as you notice that the Yamato is still in his hand. The decorative hand guard is grazing your back as the sheath strokes the curve of your ass and the back of your legs.

“Did you forget to put the Yamato down or…?” you question, glancing back over at Vergil as your body begins to fidget against the impressively long sword.

Vergil’s grin turns utterly wicked. “I am not quite done with the Yamato yet.”

Before you can ask the meaning behind his odd statement, he spins you around and presses your back against his chest. You are now facing the stone altar and numerous eyes of praying angels. The hand holding the Yamato rests against your hip while the other brushes your hair away from one side of your neck. A low rumbling purr enters your ear as he nuzzles that side of your face.

“Even angels cannot compare to your beauty,” he boldly claims before kissing your cheek tenderly. “My heaven.” His lips trail down and kiss your slender neck. “My night.” The tip of his nose grazes the skin on the crook of your neck before giving it an affectionate bite. “My Evening Star.”

You gasp out in pleasure as you reach up and rakes your fingers through his lustrous hair. His hands grip your hips hard as he grinds into your bottom and you feel the unmistakable outline of his erection against your voluptuous bottom. A desperate moan passes your lips as his mouth leaves your neck. Your growing excitement turns into slight alarm when he brings up the Yamato at arm’s length in front of you. His thumb pops the hilt and your body immediately quakes as you try to back away, but his strong frame blocks your escape.

“Shh…it’s okay,” Vergil whispers calmly by your ear. “Allow me the chance to put your mind at ease once and for all,” he softly persuades as his free hand gives your hip a comforting squeeze.

He will not hurt me. He will not hurt me. He will not hurt me.

You chant this like a mantra in your head, willing your body to listen and settle down. Your fearful shivering gradually diminishes until you fully relax, reminding yourself that you are safe in his warm embrace. Vergil lets out a pleased hum as you turn your head and kiss his neck just above the collar of his vest. His right hand leaves your hip and grasps the Yamato’s intricate handle. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he steadily unsheathes the blade. The pale moonlight glitters off of the sharp edge as he displays it in all its brilliant glory.

“It’s a shame you cast no reflection,” he murmurs as he rests the hand holding the sheath on your waist. “Your eyes would no doubt add a certain allure to the Yamato’s blade.”

Vergil turns the sword so the flat of the blade is horizontally facing you and, sure enough, your image is nowhere to be seen on its shiny surface. Instead, you only see a pair of soft smirking lips as they kiss your temple. You laugh softly as he once again shifts the Yamato so that the back of the blade is now facing you. His thumb on your waist gently strokes your skin as he begins to slowly bring the blade closer, closer, and closer still…until it touches your chest. Your body jolts on contact, prompting more consoling whispers and soothing touches from the composed devil behind you.

When you confirm that you are fine with a slight nod, he slides the Yamato across the top of your breasts, making you quiver underneath its smooth blade. The glossy metal glides on your skin until the end of the sword slips delicately under one strap of your bra. It drags back across your chest, careful not to cut the strap just yet as it slips under the other one. Vergil pauses for a moment as your hands reach behind you and clutch at his coat tightly. Then, with a quick flick of the wrist, he easily cuts the straps before instantly bringing the tip of the Yamato just below the center of your bra. You whimper as he slides the sword underneath, grazing your skin with the flat of blade until it reaches your neck. There is another brief pause before he turns the blade and completes his unique way of removing your underwear.

The cups of your bra fling to the side, baring your breasts for all to the heavenly angels to see. As the tattered remains of your bra fall to the ground, Vergil sheaths the Yamato and spins you around to face him. He growls as he kneels down and buries his face in between your breasts, quickly nipping and licking his way underneath the curve of one breast. You cry out as both of your hands comb through his hair, pushing your breast closer to his questing mouth. His free hand slides down your back and grasps one side of your bottom as his tongue licks a trail up your breast. The tip of his tongue flicks your nipple a couple of times before fully capturing it with his mouth, sucking on it just enough to have you moaning above him.

You are so distracted by his lavish mouth that you do not even notice where the Yamato went off to until you sense something slip between your legs. The slightly smooth texture of its sheath feels surprisingly good as it caresses the inside of your thigh, causing you to spread your legs as it climbs higher up. Vergil releases your breast and proceeds to lick the other just as the sword reaches the apex of your thighs. His eyes dart up to meet your lustful gaze while he firmly presses the sheath against your damp panties.

A strangle cry of elation slips from your mouth when the Yamato starts to languidly thrust back and forth, rubbing deliciously against your clothed sex. Vergil is practically purring around your nipple as you lift one of your legs and place it on his shoulder. Your hips rock in time with his thrust, desperately trying to relieve the blissful tension between your legs. Of all the scenarios that could have happened during your stroll in the local cemetery, you did not foresee being pleasured by the very sword that frightens you. And yet, here you are…seeking out your orgasm while praying angels watch what is undoubtedly a titillating show.

Vergil releases your breast and gazes up at you in awe. “My, what a vision you are…riding my most treasured possession,” he declares as said treasured possession quickens its pace between your legs. “Tell me…does it feel good? Does the Yamato make you exquisitely wet?”

The shuttering moan that spills from your lips causes the corner of his mouth to lift into a smug grin as your hands grip his head tighter against your chest. “Yes! Oh, Vergil,” you whimper as your hips move faster against the Yamato. The familiar pressure of an impending orgasm starts to build up, but you are only able to achieve a few more strokes before Vergil abruptly pushes your hips against the edge of the stone altar. You groan in frustration as he removes the Yamato, teasing you one last time with it as the sheath slides away from your aching core. He leans back a little and gently takes your leg off his shoulder before drawing his blade once more. This time you do not flinch away as he cuts your panties off in a speedy manner.

The small scrap of lacy fabric drops to the ground, your sheer nylon stockings and garters the only remaining garments on your person now. You look down and catch Vergil staring at your bare sex as he sheathes the sword, grunting softly when he sees just how sopping wet the Yamato has really made you. He bolts up and crushes his lips against yours as he easily lifts you up onto the altar. His hands trail down your thighs, calloused fingers playfully pulling at your garters before hooking behind your knees and spreading your legs wide.

Vergil breaks away from your begging lips and stares deeply into your eyes. “I find myself overwhelmingly dressed…pleasure yourself while I remedy that,” he demands before taking a step back, “…using the Yamato,” he finishes, both hands holding the deadly weapon out in front of you.

If you still had a pulse, your heart would surely have skipped a beat right then. Vergil watches you patiently as your shaking hands reach out, nervously inching ever closer to the offered sword. When your fingers wrap around the sheath, a thrilling chill runs up your arms and all throughout your body. Your eyes glance up at Vergil as you carefully lift the Yamato, silently asking him if he is really sure about this.

His eyes examine the surrounding statues before turning back to you. “Show these virtuous angels the true meaning of sacrilege.” He gives you an encouraging nod as he releases his grip on the sheath and takes a few more steps back.

As you bring the Yamato closer to your body, you cannot help but admire its harmonious design. The top end of the handle easily reaches your shoulder as you tilt it vertically and place it on the ground. Its smooth sheath feels akin to plush leather rather than wood, perhaps softened over time by the blood of his enemies. You lightly rub your hands up the length of the sheath, surmising that its slightly porous surface would add some extra stimulation. Your fang bites your lower lip as your keen eyes notice the course wrapping on the handle, enjoying its mesmerizing pattern as your fingers trace along its path.

You adjust the Yamato between your legs and tentatively press the sheath against your silken sex. It is pleasantly warm despite cold night air. Your desire rises once more as you begin to slide the Yamato leisurely up and down in between your slick lips, softening its surface even more with your arousal. The sheath feels sensational, pulling in all the right ways as it sporadically strokes your sensitive nub. You arch your back to press one of your breasts against the handle and let the intricate wrapping tease your nipple, making you groan as you slowly sink into an ecstatic stupor.

A string of pleasant sighs and sensual moans soon fill the night air as your eyes flicker over to Vergil, who is gazing at you intently and palming the bulge in his leather pants. You are vaguely aware that he is no longer wearing his coat, gloves, and vest. The sight of his bare chest makes your toes curl in your heels as you move the Yamato faster. His silver blue eyes seem to glow as they linger all over your body, totally enraptured by the lewd display of utter depravity. You can feel your own arousal getting more thicker as that familiar tension returns, prompting you to pick up the pace and chase your pleasure.

Vergil only takes a couple of long strides before he is standing right in front of you, his eyes never straying from the Yamato pumping between your legs. His sudden close proximity has you moaning louder as the scent of fresh snow wafts under your nose. You eye the side of his neck greedily as the craving for his blood mixes with the rising pressure of your imminent orgasm. This does not escape his notice as he rests his hands on either side of you on the altar. His pouty lips form a cocky grin as he tilts his head to the side, showing off the perfectly smooth skin of his neck.

“Do you hunger for a taste?”

A guttural groan tears itself out of your throat in response to his tempting taunt before you can stop it. You glare at him and display your fangs as they extend in anticipation, warning him with an angry hiss to stop teasing the bloodthirsty vampire currently pleasuring herself with a dangerous weapon. He chuckles at your venomous reaction before leaning in closer, baring his neck for your feasting eyes as you feel the beginning thrums of your orgasm stir deep inside you.

“Partake of me while you come on the Yamato, my Evening Star.”

The soft thrums of pleasure escalate quickly as your sharp eyes stare longingly at his neck, complying with his wicked demand as the Yamato slides faster between your legs. The cadence of your cries of passion speed up as it rises higher and higher. You strike at Vergil’s neck right when it swells at its highest point. Your climax blessedly breaks forth just as his crimson nectar floods into your needy mouth, convulsing and pulsing against the Yamato as your muffled screams of ecstasy echo in the night.

Vergil growls in your ear while you take your fill of his blood, his hands caressing your legs gently as you practically ride the Yamato through your hazy orgasm. When your pleasure finally starts to recede, he grabs your knees and stretches them further apart. You detach your fangs from his neck as he straightens up and inspects the mess you have made, smirking at the sight of your arousal leaking down the sheath. He takes your bloody chin in his hand and guides you into a scorching kiss, grunting softly when one of your fangs nips at his bottom lip. You clutch the Yamato tighter against your chest as his tongue sweeps over every inch of your mouth before breaking away.

“I do believe,” he began as his hand grasps the Yamato at the hilt, “you have successful shown the angels…” He removes the sword from between your legs and holds up the sheath close to his face. The thick slick from your orgasm shines in the moonlight as he breathes in your aroused scent. “That you…” he pauses as his devilish tongue peeks out and licks the wet sheath, moaning softly at the taste of you before uttering “…are sin incarnate.”

You moan as Vergil laps the remnants of your orgasm off the Yamato while staring straight into your eyes, silently daring you to not look away as he savors every last drop of you. When he finishes cleaning the sheath, he slides it under both your knees and gently lifts them into the air, subtly instructing you to lie back on the altar. You can feel your stockings stretch and your garters tighten as the Yamato bends your knees close to your chest and holds them apart in place, leaving you completely as the mercy of the devil currently admiring your blooming center.

Vergil hums as his lips graze down the inside of one of your thighs, stopping when they get to a particular vein close to your center…another one of his spots to drink from you. He licks and nips at your sensitive skin, making your dripping heat reawaken and pleasantly pulse. “I will never tire of seeing your quivering sex as I…” he whispers darkly against your skin before biting down hard. Only a small gasp of pain passes from lips before you are moaning in delight as he licks and sucks at your thigh, growling in gratification as he indulges himself on your own redolent blood.

Your body shakes as the pleasant pull of his lips makes you ache with need once more. After only a few deep draws of your blood, one of your hands grasp the Yamato between your knees while the other hand reaches down and rapidly rubs your aching clit. Vergil grunts against your thigh and drinks a few more mouthfuls of blood before he steadily licks his way towards your twitching mound. When he gets to your entrance his tongue pushes into you fully and begins to pump in time with your hand. Another orgasm rips through your body after only a few more precise strokes, his tongue never wavering from its rhythm as it draws out moan after moan from you.

When your pleasure dies down again, he removes his tongue and gently lowers your legs with the Yamato. You lay there on the altar for a moment to recollect yourself before cracking your eyes open. The judgmental eyes of the stone angels come into view as the sound of rustling clothes brings you back down to reality. You carefully sit back up on the altar and immediately purr at the sight of Vergil’s naked body. He is still holding the Yamato in one hand and his dripping red lips smile softly as the other hand reaches up to caress your cheek.

“Have I fully eased your mind yet?” he asks sincerely.

You laugh and nod as you lean into his hand and kiss the inside of his palm. “Yes…but I might need a bit more convincing,” you insist playfully as your eyes glance down at his hard member. “You up for some more blasphemy?” you ask suggestively as you reach down and give his cock a firm stroke.

Vergil snarls and quickly snaps into action. He hops onto the altar with you and sits on the heels of his feet before pulling your back flush with chest, nestling his cock between your wet heat as you sit fully on his muscular thighs. You wiggle your hips and rub your sex along his hard length, teasing him a little before angling yourself over his cock. He grasps himself and teases you back by circling your entrance with the tip of his cock before holding it steady. You slowly sink down until the head of his cock is fully inside you, knowing that his eager hands will soon be on your hips to guide you the rest of the way.

And sure enough, his hands gently squeeze your hips as they slowly pull you halfway down his length until his own hips snap forward and fully sheaths his cock inside you. He grabs the Yamato and you whimper as he sets it up between your legs, pressing it firmly against your mound and chest as he begins to thrust fervently. Your head falls back on his shoulder as your hands clutch his legs for dear life, mewling and keening at the mind-blowing sensation of both the Yamato and Vergil pleasuring you in unison.

It does not take you long to come again, sobbing and writhing in his lap as he rides through your orgasm. Vergil grunts in your ear and moves the Yamato horizontally across your hips, slowing down his thrusts as he leads you down onto all fours. You bend down low and rest on your elbows while the Yamato holds your hips up. He thrusts with renewed vigor, setting a brutal pace that pounds his cock even deeper inside you. All you can do at this point is whimper desperately as you feel another orgasm rising.

“Please,” you beg softly, “come with me, Vergil.”

You feel his cock twitch and thicken at your plea. Vergil growls and pulls your hips closer into his frenzied thrusts. As your wet heat begins to convulse around him, you feel the warmth of his seed gush inside you. Both of your screams of passion form a chorus of pleasure for the angels as they behold your final sin of commission on the altar.

His thrusting gradually comes to a halt before he carefully removes the Yamato. With nothing to bar your hips any longer, your legs practically melt and you faintly feel Vergil help you lie down on the altar before disengaging from your warmth. You steep in your blissful haze as he lies next to you and scoops your body up into his arms. He gently rubs your back and brushes your hair as you slowly come back to your senses. When you finally regain some clarity, you cuddle up closer to his chest and nuzzle his neck affectionately.

Vergil hums and tilts his head to the side to give you better access for your fangs. “What a profound end to sweet sacrilege,” he murmurs against your forehead as you bite down and feed.

You giggle against his neck as you slake your thirst. After you are done taking your fill, you close the mark with a swipe of your tongue and look up at him. “I am no stranger to sacrilege…being eternally damned and all,” you remark candidly.

“And yet holy symbols and such have no effect on you like it should…” Vergil discerns as his eyes squint at the crosses on the flower vases and on top of the mausoleum.

You shrug. “They are classics…but not all vampires have the same flaws.”

“What other flaws do you suffer from?” he asks as his chin rests on your forehead.

“Listen.”

Both of you stay silent for almost a minute, the only sounds present in the cemetery are the wind and Vergil’s soft breathing. He turns his head and scans the area with utmost alertness before speaking. “It’s strangely silent.” His eyes peer down at you. “No chirping insects or the stirrings of other nocturnal creatures.”

You nod sagely. “My presence terrifies most animals. They just flee in horror as soon as I come within a certain distance of them.”

Vergil quirks an eyebrow. “Most?”

“It doesn’t seem to affect bats, rats, and wolves…so, I guess I can have any of them as pets?” you joke with a cheeky grin.

A deep chuckle resounds in Vergil’s chest as he caresses your cheek in wonder. After a few more moments of comfortable silence, both of you decide it is time to head home. You complain about not having any clothes to wear, since someone thought it was a good idea to just cut your dress and underwear to pieces. Vergil only smirks and gives your bottom a light smack as he hands you his signature blue coat. You put on the offered coat, trying your best to look disgruntled as you resist the urge to smile. But when he leans down and whispers how lovely the Yamato looked against your skin at it sliced through your panties…well, how can anyone not smile at that?

When Vergil is done putting on the rest of his attire, he grabs the Yamato off the altar and offers you his free hand. You take it and follow his lead as he pulls you to stand in front of him. He lets go of your hand, wraps his arm around your waist, and embraces you from behind as he gives the side of your neck a tender kiss. A warm smile graces your lips as you hum at his affectionate attention. His lips gracefully trail up your neck and nuzzle the side of your head before whispering gently into your ear.

“Is my Evening Star proud once more?”

“Very much so.” You turn your head and meet his eyes. “All thanks to you, Vergil,” you reply with total sincerity in your voice. “And the Yamato,” you tack on as you clasp his hand holding the magnificent weapon, lift it up close to your face, and give the tip of the handle a soft kiss.

Adoration ignites within those captivating eyes at your heartfelt words. You lift your head up and press a tender kiss against his lips just as Vergil swiftly opens a portal back to the shop. And as you follow your devilish lover back home, you realize that you have never felt happier in all your eternal life.

Read on Ao3

My Master List if you want more. ❤

Read the follow up here 😘

Tagging: @drusoona @thedyingmoon @bettybattaglia @nalax9 @veenus-ow @cherryvane @fandomhell97 @queenmuzz @flipping-fan-tastic @clevermentalitybeliever @just-an-adventurer @lewdbunbun @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey

#vergil #vergil x reader #devil may cry #dmc 5 #vampire spice #vampire reader #blood #vampire bites #sweet sacrilege #yamato play #there's no cutting btw #spooky spice in the cemetery #with a dash of blasphemy #make love with the yamato #harlot writes

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

Text

All I See Is You

Gratsu Weekend 2020 Prompt: Absence Pairing(s): Gray x Natsu, Erza & Natsu A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | FF.Net | Takes place after Caught Up In You

February 7, 2021

Natsu was a mess. There was no other way to describe it. He’d taken the first part of his GED test the previous day, and even though he’d been told he might receive his results as soon as three hours after the exam ended, no such thing had happened.

Although Gray had reminded him time and time again that he should do his best to relax, that even if he failed it was no big deal, Natsu had still spent a good fifteen minutes freaking out at finally finding himself in front of the testing computer. Somehow he’d managed to get through it to answer all the questions as best he could.

At least he’d had work the previous night to keep his mind off it, but now nothing was preventing him from stressing out about his results. It was around noon when his phone finally notified him of a new email, and he saw that it was from the testing service.

With a shaking hand, he opened the app and read the email, his mind not really comprehending what it said. Natsu read the email for a second and even a third time to make sure there was no mistake. That he couldn’t possibly be reading it wrong. He was still having trouble believing what he’d read, so he looked for his sister, who was in the kitchen baking cookies with the kids.

“Erza, can you tell me what this email says?” Natsu handed her the phone and looked at her shyly.

His sister gazed at him in puzzlement before looking down at the screen. She read the email and put the phone down carefully before squealing loudly. Grabbing his hands in hers, she jumped up and down pulling him along with her just like she used to when they were little. “You did it, you passed!”

“I really passed?”

Erza nodded, somehow transitioning from mid-jump straight into a hug, “I’m so proud of you!” She ruffled his hair roughly, and while it would typically annoy him, this time, it only made him laugh.

“Daddy, you did it!” Hana cried excitedly, jumping into his arms for a hug, while Atlas contented himself with pulling on his pants until he picked him up with one arm, holding both kids against him. He grinned at them, kissing them before putting them down to continue their baking with Erza.

He walked over to the shrine they had made for Lisanna and lit the candle they had bought with her favorite scent, lavender vanilla.

He knelt down and looked at her picture, feeling the familiar hurt at not being able to see her again.

“Can you believe it, Lis? A dummy like me somehow managed to pass the first test,” Natsu chuckled, “Math no less. I had help, though. Remember Gray, my friend I told you about? He helped me study for it, wouldn’t let me give up. I still have to pass three more tests before I can get the certificate, but this is sort of already more than I thought I’d be able to do. Things are starting to look up for me, but uhm, I still miss you, we all do.”

Natsu smiled at the picture sadly before blowing out the candle. He wanted to tell Gray about his score, but after all the work they had put in, he wanted to tell him in person. This was his victory too!

“Erza?”

“Yes, I know, you want to go tell Gray,” Erza responded, “Go ahead, thank him for me too!”

“Thanks!” Natsu called out, hurrying out the door before the kids asked to come along. He drove to Magnolia Bean and bought an iced coffee since, for some reason, that’s what Gray drank all year long and headed to Lyon’s apartment.

He parked in one of the visitor’s spots and entered the building, or fort as he liked to call it. It had ample security, and Natsu submitted to the usual metal detector, and pat-down search as the guards rang Lyon’s apartment to see if he would be allowed upstairs. There were cameras everywhere and armed guards doing rounds with dogs. He’d heard from Gray that they had a room where they checked all incoming mail for signs of tampering or chemicals. He knew Lyon and Gray felt safe there, but to Natsu, it kind of felt more like a prison.

He was escorted to the apartment, and Gray was already waiting for him outside the elevator. They waved at the guard, and Natsu handed Gray his coffee as they entered the apartment.

“Why does Lyon live here again?”

“He was threatened at gunpoint by the ex-husband of one of his clients,” Gray deadpanned.

“For real?!”

Gray nodded, leading him past the living room where Aki was watching cartoons with Lyon and into his bedroom. Natsu noticed that there were several half-packed suitcases open on the bed.

“Did you get your email yet?” Gray asked, and from the way he was studying him, Natsu could tell that he was trying to guess the results from his behavior. He was tempted to act as though he’d failed, but he was too stoked to pull it off.

Instead, he pulled his phone out and showed him the email. He could see Gray’s lips move as he read it and grinned when he saw the pride settle into his features.

“You did amazing!” Gray exclaimed, shaking him lightly by the shoulders, “If you had gotten a few more points, you would have been able to get some college credit!”

“We did amazing, there’s no way in hell I could have done it without you hounding me,” Natsu laughed, “I actually feel like we could nail this!”

Gray’s smile withered, and he sat on the edge of his bed, “Listen, there’s something I’ve meant to tell you for a few weeks, but I wanted to wait until after you’d taken the test.”

Natsu could feel a sense of dread growing within him. Nothing good could come from that statement.

“I, uhm, I won’t be able to study with you for a few months,” Gray spoke in a soft voice, “I have to go back to Crocus for a while.”

“But why?” Natsu felt like pleading with him, the thought of not seeing Gray for months affecting him in ways he hadn’t expected.

“Well, Siegrain, that’s my ex, is claiming that I kidnapped Aki and am keeping him from seeing his son. The court there is demanding I return to answer those charges as well as show evidence that he abused Aki.”

“I’m sorry, did you say he abused Aki?” There was rage working its way through his veins, but Natsu tried to hide it, now that Gray was finally trusting him he didn’t want to ruin it by overreacting, but the idea that anyone would lay a hand to Aki was enough to make him see red.

Gray nodded, “It was one of the many reasons why I left.”

“What about you?”

He could see Gray startle at his words and realized too late they had come out in a deep growl.

“You know what? Why don’t we go for a walk?” Gray offered, and Natsu found himself agreeing quickly. He didn’t care where they went, he just wanted to learn what had happened and who to point his rage at.

Gray walked out of his room, and Natsu followed, trying to understand the intensity of his feelings.

“Natsu and I are going for a walk, call me if anything comes up,” Gray announced to Lyon, and although Aki looked up briefly, he seemed perfectly happy to just snuggle up with Lyon and continue watching television.

That simple act fed into Natsu’s anger even more. Aki had made so much progress since Natsu had met them, and he knew that would change as soon as he was moved from his home, for Lyon’s house was very much his home, as much a source of comfort for the boy as Lyon himself.

He could still remember how distraught and lost Atlas and Hana had been when they had made the move from Edolas to Magnolia. The nightmares, the nights spent sleeping in his room because they were afraid if they didn’t, he too would be gone when they woke up.

He didn’t want Aki to have to go through something like that just to feed some asshole’s ego. And God forbid he attempted to touch Aki again, Natsu wasn’t sure he could be held responsible for his actions then.

They had already walked out the front door when Natsu realized that Gray had once again not taken his coat, even though the February weather demanded it. Not only that, the idiot was still drinking his iced coffee.

Natsu’s chuckle remained lodged in his throat as he realized that he wouldn’t be seeing his friend for a while, only to be replaced by a sense of loss he was somewhat familiar with. Someone he cared about was leaving him again. He tried to fight it, reminding himself that wasn’t what was happening this time. Gray had no choice, if judges were calling for him, then he had to go or be arrested, but he still couldn’t fight the urge to try to stop him, or to follow him, anything to keep him near.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Natsu looked up to find Gray staring at him with a furrowed brow. He swallowed down his thoughts and attempted a shaky smile. “Yeah, just can’t get over the idea of someone purposefully hurting a child.”

Gray stared at him intently but soon shrugged, seemingly accepting his response at face value. As they walked outside, Natsu saw it had begun to snow, soft flurries that tickled when they landed on his exposed skin. Gray’s eyes immediately lit up, and Natsu had to smile as he watched his friend stick his tongue out to try to catch a snowflake.

He looks so beautiful like that, so peaceful, I wish he always looked like that…

Natsu was surprised by the thought, but he filed it away for later, wanting to once again focus on whatever it was Gray hadn’t felt comfortable sharing in the apartment.

“I love it when the weather is like this,” Gray commented, pulling on Natsu’s arm and nudging him to follow until they reached a playground he’d never noticed before.

“You’re going to catch your death, you idiot,” Natsu scolded fondly, although from what he could tell, Gray didn’t look cold at all.

“Nah, a little cold never hurt anyone,” Gray disagreed before dusting off a bench and sitting down.

Natsu debated whether he should do the same or not, knowing he had trouble sitting still when he was calm, let alone when he was agitated. And he was agitated, even from the little he had already heard.

“Sit down,” Gray demanded, “This is hard enough without watching you fly off the handle.”

Natsu grunted his displeasure but did as he was asked.

“In answer to your question, no, he never hit me. Although I have a feeling, it had more to do with not being able to hide his tracks than anything else. My body was always being photographed, so it would have been evident to others. With me, the abuse was more emotional, which is a lot harder to prove in court.

Natsu could feel Gray’s hands on his, and before he knew what was happening, his friend was trying to loosen his fists, which Natsu had yet to realize were clenched tightly next to him.

“I’m fine now,” Gray assured him, “I’ve been going to therapy for months, and it’s helping. I used to think everything that went wrong in our relationship was my fault, that I’d done something to make him not love me. But I realize now, that’s not what happened at all. That’s just what he wanted me to believe so that he could keep me under his control. Even Aki was a means to an end for him.”

“Aki? I don’t understand,” Natsu was confused by everything Gray was telling him. Keeping people under your control, hurting them emotionally? What did any of those things have to do with love?

Gray sighed, “I caught him cheating on me. It was as bad as any awkward movie scene you’ve ever seen. I walked in to find him balls deep in some other guy. He swore it was the first time, but I had been hearing rumors for years, I just-”

Natsu’s arms moved of their own volition, wrapping themselves around his friend in an embrace. It seriously felt like his body was working on automatic pilot as his mind raced to understand what his friend had been through, even as his own emotions flared just outside of his control. He could feel Gray’s body tense at his gesture before relaxing into it.

It was all so alien to him. If he were in love with Gray, he would never in a million years treat him like that. The idea of being unfaithful to someone he loved made him feel sick to his stomach. Natsu held Gray until he pushed against him. He let go, but the urge to protect him didn’t leave him.

“I guess I was just stubborn or conditioned or whatever but I was determined to make it work, we were married after all, and I sort of grew up thinking that’s what you did. So when he dangled the idea of having a child with me, I held on, and for a while, it was better. We interviewed surrogates, spent more time together, but once Aki was born, I guess it wasn’t what he had expected, you know? You remember how it is in the beginning, the crying, the constant need for attention…”

Natsu nodded, remembering those times quite well, and quite fondly.

“I loved it, loved Aki from the second I saw him in the sonogram, but Siegrain wasn’t the same. When Aki was born, he held him once and then handed him over to me. And that’s how it was from then on. I had to make sure to keep him quiet, his crying gave Siegrain horrendous migraines.”

Gray rolled his eyes at Natsu, and they both laughed.

“I’d wanted to believe things were better, but they weren’t, I was still working, and that plus taking care of Aki cut into the time I had to spend with him, and he started disappearing again. This time I knew what he was doing, but even then, I just couldn’t break it off. It was only when he started messing with Aki that I recognized I had no choice but to leave. I knew he’d never let me go willingly, so I got in touch with Lyon, and he walked me through how to get away and offered me to stay with him.”

“Do you - are you still in love with him?” Natsu asked.

Gray’s laugh was bitter, “Hell, no! I’ve actually begun to question if I ever was. All of this is just a big manipulation play by him. Siegrain never loved me. What he loved was the lifestyle I provided him. That’s what he wants back, not me.”

Natsu gaped at him, “Gods, I am so sorry, I didn’t realize you were dealing with all this.”

“Of course you didn’t, I didn’t want you to. Everyone around me walks on eggshells, worried about whether I might break. But you, you were in my face from the day we met, and I loved it. You, more than anyone else, make me feel normal. You’ve helped me want to get back to a regular life, which is something that Lyon and Rogue had been nagging me about for months.”

“That night at the bar, when you asked me to dance with you, it’s hard to explain, but you sort of showed me what real healthy love was like. Even though you were pretending I was someone else, you showed me more attention than my asshole of a husband ever did. That’s actually when I decided to go get therapy. I wanted to work on myself and maybe get to a point where I was worthy of a love like you had with Lisanna.”

“You always have been, you dumbass,” Natsu thwapped him on the head, “I’m sure the next relationship you’ll be in will be better.

Gray nodded weakly but kept his eyes fixed to the ground. A silence grew between them and before it could turn awkward Natsu broke it, “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t really know. I figured if I’m stuck there, I might as well finish out some contracts I walked out on. I hired a friend as a temporary manager, and he’s sorting all that out for me.”

“You’re going back to modeling? But what about your school?” Natsu hated the way he sounded so needy as his stupid fear of being abandoned took over once again.

“I might take a few gigs while I’m there, I definitely need the money, and unlike Siegrain I know Hibiki won’t try to take it from me.”

“He was your manager?!” Natsu blurted in disbelief.

“He made it sound so reasonable at the time,” Gray confessed, and Natsu winced at how beaten he sounded.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“No, you’re right. I made a lot of decisions I’m not particularly proud of, it’s another reason I hadn’t wanted to tell you anything.”

“Meh, you’re still doing dumb things, and I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“True,” Gray snorted, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Natsu nodded absently, running everything he’d learned in the last few minutes through his head.

“Why are you so upset I’m leaving, is it just because of the test?”

Natsu shook his head, remaining quiet as he decided how much of his past he wanted to share with his friend, considering how much Gray had just shared of himself.

“The short version?” Natsu asked and when Gray nodded he began to count off on his fingers,” My mom died when I was eight, my dad abandoned us when I turned nine, then Gildarts came along and got us a new home before disappearing as well. Erza left home to go to college, and Lisanna ran away to Edolas. I got her back, but then she left me again,” Natsu couldn’t help the sadness that engulfed him. “It just feels like everyone I care about leaves me at some point.”

There was a glint in Gray’s eyes that he didn’t understand, but it didn’t seem like pity at least. “Well, I’m touched that you’ve placed me in such company, but unfortunately for you, I am definitely coming back, so don’t go replacing me just yet.”

Natsu just stared at the ground, and Gray moved until he was kneeling in front of him, “Hey, dumbass, I mean it. If I come back to find you’re baking Sting cakes, I’ll never forgive you.”

Natsu couldn’t help but snort at that, and once he started, Gray joined in.

They sat together for a while, watching the snowflakes whirling down from the sky in silence. The question that had been floating around in Natsu’s head finally came out, because as much as he hated to think about it, he wanted to know.

“So... when will you be leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning, we’re taking the first train out,” Gray responded, cradling his head in his hands. It wasn’t hard to see he was dreading the whole thing, “I have no idea how Aki is going to do with this. I’m not sure he even remembers Siegrain, he hasn’t seen him since before last April, and you know how he is with strangers.”

Natsu sighed, feeling terrible on Gray and Aki’s behalf. Aki wasn’t even three years old yet, and he had already been through so much, things that would break the heart of any loving parent.

“Hey!” Gray barked suddenly, “Don’t think this lets you off the hook, you better keep studying, I’m going to call and check on you.”

Natsu gave him a grateful smile, “Okay, but I might wait until you get back to tackle science.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gray took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I have to go finish packing, you coming?”

Natsu shook his head, “I should get back.”

They studied each other awkwardly before Gray pulled him into a bear hug muttering, “I really am proud of you. We’ll celebrate when I get back.”

They said their goodbyes, and then Natsu watched Gray walk away from him, wondering why it felt like his heart was stuck in his throat. He shook his head and walked to his car, deciding on a whim to make a quick stop.

0-0

Gray and Lyon had been about to board the train when they heard their names being yelled out somewhere behind them. They turned to see Natsu running towards them, a widely grinning Atlas sitting on his shoulders haphazardly, in a way that made Gray seriously worry for his safety.

He looked down at his watch to see that they still had about twenty minutes before the train was scheduled to leave the station, but it wouldn’t have mattered because Aki had already seen Atlas and was waving excitedly.

“Don’t take too long,” Lyon stated before grabbing their stuff and entering the train to save them some seats.

Gray muttered something in agreement, wondering what Natsu was doing there, considering they had already said their goodbyes the day before.

“Hey, thanks for waiting!” Natsu exclaimed in breathy pants. He set Atlas down only to have Aki grab hold of him, both boys chattering in a way that only they understood, and that made Gray’s heart ache, knowing how much Aki was going to miss his friend.

Natsu grabbed two items from his pockets. They were two boxes decorated with the name of Cana’s store.

“What are those?” he asked curiously.

“I went to Cana’s shop after we talked, I couldn’t stop thinking about Aki and I just- don’t laugh, okay?” Natsu looked embarrassed, but all he was managing was to endear himself to Gray even more. “I had Cana make a protection bracelet for him, so even if I can’t really help him from here, at least I’ll feel like a part of me is with him. She tried to make it look like yours, so he’d like it.”

“Natsu, that’s - I don’t even know what to say! Why don’t you give it to him?” He called Aki over and picked him up in his arms. “Uncle Natsu got you a present.”

“Pwesent?” Aki asked, eyes brightening up at the word, he peered at Natsu expectantly.

Natsu handed him one of the boxes, and Aki opened it, looking at the contents, “Like Dada!!” he cried out, bouncing in Gray’s arms. Natsu took the bracelet out of the box and put it on Aki’s wrist, adjusting it for size. The little boy smiled widely and tried to say thank you.

Atlas remembered his present and shoved a picture Hana had helped him draw of him and Aki at the little boy, who seemed equally excited by it as he did by the bracelet. The station’s loudspeaker came on, urging all passengers headed to Crocus to get on the train.

“I have to go,” Gray apologized, eyeing the other box.

“Oh, right,” Natsu shoved the box at him, much like his son had done earlier. “I got this for you, it’s a protection necklace. But you know, if your ex pulls anything, call me, and I’ll get on the next train and kick his ass.”

“That’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m a Taekwondo Master with about eight years of repressed anger fueling me. Trust me when I tell you, if he tries to touch Aki or me in any way, you won’t be the one he has to worry about.”

Natsu laughed heartily, “Glad to hear it, well uhm, I guess this is really goodbye.”

“I’ll be back,” Gray promised as he waved to them one last time, reinforcing his words from the previous day. The last thing he saw before boarding with Aki was Natsu trying to quiet Atlas’ tears.

I promise

He found Lyon, and after making sure Aki was settled, he opened the box to find a necklace with a sword pendant. The pendant had a stone embedded in it, and as he read the description of all the stone’s qualities on a piece of paper, he noticed there was writing on the back too.

He recognized Cana’s scrawl on the note that read, Don’t screw this one up!

Gray laughed. No, he wouldn’t, not if he could help it. He tried to enjoy the train ride as much as possible, thinking ahead to his return rather than what awaited him on arrival.

0-0

Natsu stared at his GED book with distaste. It had been about three weeks since Gray had left, and even though he knew he’d promised to continue on his own, he just wasn’t getting anywhere. Every time he looked at the damn thing, all he felt was this deep sense of loneliness.

There were no mocking insults when he got something wrong or grudging praise when he figured something out on his own. No coffee from Magnolia Bean or treats bought just for him. Even though Gray could be an insufferable jerk, always making him work his ass off before he was allowed to eat them, Natsu had always felt pride at being able to earn them.

When Gray left, Natsu had thought he wouldn’t have time to miss him too much, but he’d been wrong. Gray was both everywhere and nowhere all at once. Ads featuring him began popping up on the sides of buses, billboards, and pretty much anywhere he looked. The first week he’d managed to call a few times, giving updates on what was happening and letting Aki talk to Atlas, but the last call had been over two weeks ago, and Natsu found himself yearning to hear his voice.

Rogue had tried to warn him that Gray had been in high demand, and once he got going, it was going to be hard to get in touch with him. That there had been times, he’d wanted to scream at Gray’s voicemail, which had been the only way he’d get to hear his brother’s voice, especially when he rarely got a callback. But Natsu had wanted to believe that wouldn’t happen.

Apparently, he’d been overly optimistic. He’d tried calling a few times already, only to be faced with that very same voicemail and no return call. He hated feeling so needy, but somehow Gray had wormed himself into his life, and he hadn’t even realized it.

Studying together twice a week, playing with the kids, Dad’s Clubs meeting, showing up at Crime Sorciere with Lyon, and more recently doing things together just the two of them in the mornings after dropping the kids off at daycare but before his shift at Crime Sorciere began. It had gotten to the point where he saw the guy more often than not, and to go from that to nothing was difficult for him.

In some ways, it reminded him of how he’d felt when Lisanna had suddenly disappeared before he’d tracked her down to Edolas. Through it all, he could feel Erza watching him, although he wasn’t sure just what it was she was waiting for.

Lyon finally returned from Crocus and gave him a rundown of what was happening. The kidnapping charges had been dropped, but Gray and Aki would have to remain in Crocus for the time being. The visitations hadn’t gone well and were on hold for now. When Gray wasn’t working, he was attending depositions with Siegrain’s sleazy lawyer Deliora. Aki wasn’t doing too well with all the changes, and Gray was worried. Rogue was going to be going up to Crocus with the twins to try to help.

Gray was swamped with work. Apparently, he’d walked out on more contracts than he’d initially remembered, but he was doing alright. Now that he was back, a lot of campaigns that had been held back were being released, which is why his face seemed to be everywhere.

Natsu was grateful for the update, but it only aroused an even bigger need in him to see his friend, to listen to him and be there for him. Once again, he was reminded of his time without Lisanna, and little things began to connect in his mind.

It all came to a head when the dreams began. At first, they were innocent. He and Gray taking the kids to the playground like they’d done countless times. Sitting on a bench and talking while the kids ran around. It was a sweet dream, it comforted him, making him feel like he was with his friend at least for a little while, and Gray looked so relaxed. It always made him smile.

Then the dream began to change. They were still at the park, the kids were again running around, but now Natsu was bringing Gray’s hand up to his lips and kissing it, while Gray responded with a lazy smile. That was a little more confusing for him, but he liked that smile. It made him feel warm all over, so he tried not to overthink why he would be kissing Gray’s hand in the first place.

The day soon came where he was confronted with the image of Gray in bed with a woman, eyes fierce and a seductive expression on his face, his body only barely covered by the sheets. It was an ad for some perfume, and Natsu had never hated anything as much in his life as he hated that ad. Hated the way it made him feel to see Gray like that but also hated that he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

It made no sense, it was just a stupid ad, it wasn’t even real, so then why did he feel like Gray had somehow betrayed him. Like all the air had been taken from his lungs. His mind instantly went back to his dream, the one where he had kissed Gray’s hand, and suddenly he found he really couldn’t breathe.

He got home from work, thankful that it was a Tuesday night, and he didn’t have a night shift at Fairy Tail. He outright refused to go to the Dad’s Club meeting, and although he could see Erza wanted to fight him over it, she remained quiet. His mood only got worse when after putting the kids to bed, she asked if he’d seen Gray’s new ad. Her tone had been breezy, but her eyes watched for his reaction, probing him, and he suddenly understood why.

She had known, had seen right through him for months, but instead of talking to him about it, she’d let him figure it out for himself. He wasn’t sure whether he felt grateful or angry. Right now, all he felt was confused and guilty. Lisanna hadn’t even been dead a year, how could he even be having thoughts like this?

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong,” he seethed, moving over to Lisanna’s shrine and kneeling in front of it after lighting the candle, but it didn’t feel right. For the first time since she had died, it felt like he was clinging to her to hide, and it made him angry with himself. She deserved better than that from him.

“Natsu,” He felt her hands on his shoulders, “It’s okay.”

“No! It’s not,” to his great embarrassment, he began to cry, and he heard Erza sigh.

“Come on, we should talk about this somewhere else,” she blew out the candle and tugged at his arm, trying to get him to stand up. At first, he fought her off, not wanting to discuss anything about what he was feeling, but he gave in eventually, knowing she’d have no problem dragging him to wherever she wanted. She really was scary sometimes.

She sat him down in their breakfast nook, going into the kitchen and soon returning with some hot cocoa and a box of cookies. He tried to get himself together while she was gone, but he couldn’t seem to stop sniffling.

She sat down across from him, handing him a tissue from the box they kept in there. “This was going to happen eventually.”

“But it hasn’t even been a year!” Natsu protested, “It’s not right, it’s not fair to-”

“To whom? To her? Natsu, she’s gone. Do you really think she would want you to mope around forever? To give up your whole life to her as some sort of tribute? Lisanna wasn’t like that, and you know it.”

“I don’t even know what this is,” Natsu groaned, “I’ve never, ugh!”

“Had feelings for a guy before?” Erza guessed, giving him a small smile when he reluctantly nodded, “Yeah, that’ll throw you for a loop the first time. I felt the same the first time I found a girl attractive.”

“I don’t find guys attractive though or women really,” he puzzled, “I don’t look at people like that, I don’t understand, I only ever felt like this with Lis.”

“When Dad left, you refused to give up on him, remember?” Erza swept his hair out of his eyes, just like she used to do when he was younger. “You claimed he was coming right back, and you’d fight anyone who said any different, including Gildarts. You held on to that belief for years.’

She looked at him seriously, “But he never came back, and that messed us both up. Even though we were lucky enough to find a new home, I don’t think either of us really trusted that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. Lisanna managed to get past your defenses though, she got you to see her, and you fell in love. And now Gray has done the same thing.

“You’re only twenty-six years old, Natsu. Your life is just beginning,” Erza’s gaze was kind but stern, “You’re going to be grieving your loss for years to come, and that’s only natural, but there’s nothing that says that you can’t also try to move forward and find love with someone else.”

“This is all so confusing, I can’t handle this,” Natsu murmured, feeling the tears flow once again.

“I know, sweetheart,” Erza rose from her seat and pulled his chair out, enveloping him in an embrace and letting him cry.

“But you know, you’ve already let him in,” Erza let go of him, smiling at his confused expression.

“What are you talking about?”

“The moment you baked him that cake for his birthday, whether you realized it or not, you were acknowledging him as yours. That’s when I knew for sure that you had feelings for him, I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up,” Erza’s eyes twinkled with mirth, “You always were slow.“

Natsu frowned at her remark, deciding to let it go considering there were more pressing issues demanding his attention. “What do I even do? I don’t think I’m ready for anything, and what if he doesn’t feel the same? And what about the kids, what if they hate me?”

“They’re little, they’ll be happy if you are. You’ve done everything in your power to keep Lisanna with them, certainly more than Dad ever did for us, and I don’t see that changing. And they both like Gray and Aki quite a lot.”

Natsu started to say it wasn’t the same thing when Erza interrupted him, “Just talk to him and be honest. I have a feeling he would appreciate taking things slow given his own situation.”

“You really think he feels the same?”

“Natsu,” Erza made sure she held his gaze before declaring assuredly, “I know he does.”

Natsu thought that statement was scarier than his own nascent feelings.

“I need to think about this,” Natsu hedged, still not wholly convinced that he should do anything.

“Of course you do, it’s a lot to take in,” Erza acknowledged, her eyes never leaving him, “Admitting how you feel is only the first step, and you have plenty of time to figure it out. All I’m asking is that you don’t dismiss the possibility out of fear or guilt. You deserve to be happy too, you know.”

Did he? Did he deserve to move on? When Lisanna couldn’t? For the first time since Gray had left, he welcomed his absence, needing time and space to figure all this out before they saw each other again. But as he drifted off that night, he couldn’t help but hope that he would see Gray in his dreams and that there at least, they could maybe move forward.

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #gratsuweekend2020 #gratsu #ftlgbtales #fics #prompt: absence #erza & natsu

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diningpageantry · 5 years

Text

Avoidant

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/45299905

Chapter 7/13 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2153

Chapter Summary: Winter breaks comes up all too soon, and Simon has to decide whether or not to speak up or let their brief interaction die with time.

xxxxxxxxxx

These past seven days have been, perhaps, the worst sevens days I’ve ever experienced.

Emotionally draining doesn’t even begin to describe them. Emptied rooms, the sound of doors at dawn, and quick turning heads to avoid eye contact during breaks. I’m getting desperate. I stare, until Penny notices, and then I have to act like I hadn’t meant to look at him. I try to catch his hand, or grab his shirt--grab his attention. Something, somehow, to get him to see me. To get him to care.

I want to know why we can’t talk it through like the adults we are. It’s like playing cat and mouse with a grown man.

I kissed him. I know I kissed him, and I kissed him twice. No matter how he feels about it, we should at least talk about it and not live our lives like avoidant ghosts of what we were.

We were nearly friends (or, at least, anytime we drank). It was bearable. It was life.

It was what I wanted. Maybe I even wanted a little bit more.

Might’ve been my downfall that I never stopped to think what else I could’ve wanted. I just kissed him, and wished all the pieces would fall into place the moment his lips brushed mine, but it set us off like a time=bomb. I can’t even look at him for longer than a minute before it all blows up again.

There’s something deeper that I’m aching for--something that swells deep in my gut. A gnawing, hungry feeling, craving his hands on my skin, and I can’t figure it out that missing piece without him.

It’s been seven days since he’s been home when I could see him, and it could be another 20 before I get to again, if he doesn’t stop packing his bags.

A few moments ago, I was letting myself in. Unlocking the door, tossing aside my bag, hanging my jacket. Exhaling, at last, for it’s finally the start of a proper break.

But now I’m here, trying not to creak the wood as I step down the hallway, socked feet and empty hearted. I can hear him. The soft rustling sound of his suitcase, the occasional step against the floorboards below him. Only the basement lies beneath us, echoing into nothingness. He’s outlined, figure entirely darkened by the quickly falling light of late December. I stop there, outside the bathroom and adjacently his bedroom, mindlessly watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he folds a shirt to fit with the others.

I stay silent. Observant. Borderline obsessive. I know he doesn’t want me here, but I can’t help it. It’s the first time I’ve really seen him, in full, in days.

My chest tugs, and that feeling swells back up at full force. Is it abandonment?

That one’s not an unfamiliar feeling. A childhood waiting for my parents (or any parents) to show. Crying at 2 in the morning after my first family dinner at the Wellbeloves. The craving of permanent attention. The acknowledgement that what’s done is done, and sometimes you can’t quite grasp onto what’s standing so close.

I need to know how to work my hands. My fingers--curl them into opposable knuckles and grip what I want.

My arms hang, breathing restricting as it washes back. He’s leaving me. Purposefully. Deliberately. Leaving the conversation, leaving the possibility. Abandoning it.

I want to dare myself to reach out and touch him. Lock him in, keep him there. Ask him to put down those clothes he’s meticulously folding and keep here until we sort this out--until we sort us out.

He catches me, head lifting and turning towards me before quickly snapping back. He’s acting as if he hadn’t seen me (something that’s grown quite regular over the week).

I won’t take it this time.

“What?” I start, bitterly crossing my arms over my chest. I’m really in for it now. He’s looking right at me, blinking with that all critical, no-care type of expression. “Not going to tell me off again?”

“I’m just trying to leave, Snow.” It’s a bit shocking how defeated he sounds despite his collected expression. He just comes off as exhausted, ready to wave me away not because he wants to, but because I’m not worth his effort.

“Oh, okay. Just going to leave an even longer space to not talk about it then, hm?”

He goes flat, leveling his eyes with mine and emotionlessly spitting out, “I don’t want to argue with you when you’re angry.” As if there was a time to do this when I’m not.

I will myself closer, stepping over the threshold into his bedroom as he stands his ground, chin tipping down towards me. I have to lift mine, shakily clenching both fists as I laugh right at him. He takes it, shocking me as he makes no effort to give one of his usual disgusted looks back.

“Well you sure wanted to argue when I was drunk and latched to you,” I spit, arms flying out before I frustratedly pull them back in. “So I don’t really see the harm in starting now.”

His jaw sets, skin tightening around his face. I catch the bobbing of his throat, followed by the more continuous downturn of his lips as he settles on the slow bow of his head. Eyes darkening and lips parting, he hits me with a sharp, disorienting blow. “Don’t lead me on, Snow. It’s not very fitting for you to play with someone else’s emotions.”

All I want now is to throw a tantrum. A full on, screaming match. It used to work often enough when I was little, so why can’t it work now?

“Who said I was playing with your emotions?!” I practically shout, feeling myself go a bit red in the cheeks. “I was clearly into you and you pushed me away like the absolute prick you are, and now you have the nerve to tell me that I’m playing with your emotions?”

He downright huffs at me, his arms crossing as he starts rambling. “You were drunk, Simon! I can’t trust feelings while drunk, and you’re an idiot if you do. Doesn’t even surprise me, given you’re an idiot already to start with.”

Everything’s fuzzy. The room’s warping, he’s spinning, and the edges are all going numb. My head goes everywhere but into a clearing, and I have no thoughts besides making him shut up and listen to me for a second.

So I stop, stomp over until there’s no space between us, and grab his face to pull it down to me. I don’t give myself (or him) any time to really react, pressing our mouths together to shut us both up.

He flails at first--hands flying up, then grabbing onto my shirt collar. I don’t know if he was speaking for me or himself earlier, because he’s starting to play tug of war with his own responses. He first jolts me away, far enough that I break the kiss and pant for him for a split second before making up his mind and yanking me back. He closes his mouth around mine, knuckles tightening around the fabric of my shirt.

I start grabbing too. Grabbing everything, everywhere. Hair, hips, shirt, arms, wrists. Anything I can hold onto for long enough to make it last.

I feel him start to nudge me one way, and I follow. All the way back onto his bed, feeling it hit the back of my knees and letting it send me tumbling back. He follows, pressing a hand down onto the bed to keep himself above me as he practically growls into my mouth. Occasionally, he breaks to say “Should’ve said something”, or “Fucking imbecile”, to which I get to the point where I can’t take it anymore and grab him by the shirt, and pushing him off.

“I tried,” I pant, glaring at him and watching him panic for a split second before grabbing him back and pulling him down. He relaxes slightly, hand slipping under my shirt as I shuffle back onto the bed. He follows suit, half-ignoring the pile of clothes we’re knocking over (and by half-ignoring, I mean stopping for a second to push them aside properly before kissing me again). He tastes sober, and smells like so, too. He’s how he should be--right against me.

I break us apart, carefully moving further down and tucking my face into his neck. I lift the collar of his shirt to give a proper love bite to his clavicle. He squirms a bit, making my heart race.

I finally lose it at the tug of my hair, his fingers winding around various loose curls and giving them a proper pull. “Stay here,” I plead breathlessly. “Don’t leave. Stay.”

He goes suddenly still, making me raise my head and stare at him dead on as I mutter a soft “I want to work this out. Us. I want to work us out.”

He still fiddles with my hair, gaze forcing anywhere but my face as he clears out his throat. “This could just be adrenaline speaking, and we’ll go back to mutual hatred in an hour.”

I scoff, not thinking to really fight back from his response while clearing the hair from his forehead. “Oh, shut up, you bloody bastard, and kiss me.”

For a second, he just pouts, lips drawn tight together and refusing to move an inch before he tugs me back up for a slow, careful kiss. I take it, sweetly tasting the movements of his mouth. We both give in, melting onto one another and just kissing for what feels like forever.

It all fits into place. Moving parts start turning in the right direction, and my mind stops and starts all at once. I don’t particularly think about anything but what’s going on. The movement of his jaw, the flow of his hands, holding my body so tightly to his. The private, new sounds he makes when I hold him like this, or kiss him like that. We let the sky sink around us, falling into the inky blackness of winter. Only the glow of the moon and the far off shadow of the living room light illuminates us.

For the first time, I realize how warm his room is. He’s even got a space heater, tucked over near the corner.

For the longest pause in what feels like hours, we stop, pressing our chests to one another and echoing each other’s heart beats. I think of letting myself speak, but I feel him fighting off words, so I let him say them first.

“I have to go,” he whispers, out into the dark. “I’m aware that it’s the absolute worst time, but my family, and--”

“I know,” I exhale, eyes closing. It doesn’t make much of a difference in light. I can still see his face, burned into my mind. Sharp, sloping angles. I can map out his lips in detail now. How they curve, how they feel. I trace him out in my mind. His deep eyes and those thick, dark lashes that fall against his marble-smooth skin.

His hand settles onto my cheek, and I trace that too. It’s bigger than mine, and a little rougher on the inside palm. Mine’s all scarred up on the outside.

He pauses, then strokes his thumb over my right cheek. It takes me a moment to think over my face, and realize he’s tracing over my moles. Voice ringing quiet over the room, he murmurs out a few soft words meant just for me. “If you don’t want this to be over, then it isn’t. I just can’t stay.”

We stay silent for moments after, and I nod a slow, careful nod before speaking. “At least stay until tonight, then leave in the morning?” I whisper, letting myself be the weak one here. Not weak enough, though, to tell him that I just really miss sharing a bed with someone.

As my eyes open, I catch the sight of him watching me. It’s hard to tell in this light, but it’s clear as day when I see it. For that, I smile. A soft, private smile. Almost a knowing one.

He seems to know, too.

He doesn’t give me an answer immediately, settling a hand onto my chest, right between my lungs, and sprawls it out. Breathing out slowly, I focus on the flowy outliers running out the sides of his hair. They stand in contrast to the moon’s glow, giving him a bluish halo.

“One night,” he promises. I still watch his shadow of a body, glowing cyan in the night.

I settle my hand on top of his, finding right where my fingers fit between his, and close my eyes again. “Good.”

As per his promise, he’s gone by the time I’m up.

#carry on #snowbaz #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #proximity (the collision of lonely men)#p(tcolm)#update

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edogawatranslations · 5 years

Text

Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 1, Part 2

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 1, Part 1

Kyoko was absent again the following day.

I brought up my concerns with her homeroom teacher and the nuns in charge of the academy, but none of them took me seriously. They didn’t realize the severity of the situation.

If Kyoko remained missing, what was I to do? Was I capable of fending off the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee all by myself? Or, was it better to feign ignorance and turn a blind eye to the menace lurking in the shadows, returning to leading a completely average life?

The latter was out of the question.

Willfully overlooking the presence of evil was no different from committing sin. Until Kyoko returned, I had to keep fighting, even if I was all alone. If she never returned, well...

———

The next day, I stopped by the Detective Library again.

I wanted to check if there were any new messages for me. Although my expectations were low, I believed that my efforts would surely lead to some breakthrough. Once the bus reached the Detective Library, I stepped out into the lightly falling snow.

I could still see my breath even after opening the old library doors and entering the building. Everything felt much colder and quieter than usual, perhaps due to the snow. The empty umbrella stand next to the entrance implied a lack of visitors.

I inquired about messages at the counter, but there were none for me.

Would it help to request the services of a detective specializing in finding missing persons? Maybe, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be with the enemy. What about the police? They weren’t going to be of much help, and I knew how unreliable they were from past experience.

I felt lonely.

There wasn’t anyone I could lean on.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that my view of the world had completely transformed over the past several months. Life had been so simple before I got involved with these Duel Noirs, but now, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a profound darkness lay in wait for me everywhere I went. The sight of a building’s shadow was enough to trigger my paranoia.

How I wished Kyoko was by my side at times like these, bringing me strength...

Kyoko, where did you go? You’ve left me—

As I meandered between the bookcases, a shadow suddenly crossed the aisle a few yards in front of me.

—What was that?

Curious, I turned the corner to chase after the figure. Once I did, I spotted the pretty boy in the vest from the other day, standing about 20 yards ahead.

That same sweet aroma emanated from him.

With his suit jacket draped over his right arm, he stood facing in my direction, almost as if he was awaiting my arrival.

He looked a little shorter than Kyoko. I didn’t have a good guess for his age, but I could tell he was rather young.

Once our eyes locked, a smile spread across his face. Behind that smile lay the playful innocence of a young boy, and the charming allure of a young girl.

If I had to say, he was a fairy of the library.

Pure white skin and long lashes. A delicate and slim build. Was this kid actually a girl? Or maybe, androgynous? Right now, he was neither a boy nor a girl, which made him appear all the more like a fairy. His medium-length hair and blue-tinted eyes further accentuated his strangeness.

Without warning, he slipped into the shadow of a bookcase. I gave chase, rushing over to the next aisle.

The boy stood a few dozen yards away, once again frozen in place like he was waiting for me. The very next moment, he disappeared into the shadow of another bookcase.

“Hey, wait up!” I shouted, running after him.

Upon turning into the next aisle—

He was gone.

Instead, I spotted a small iron door in the wall at the end of the aisle. The boy must have run through there.

Was there always a door here? I thought to myself.

The door seemed like an entrance to Wonderland. I hesitantly approached it, and grabbed hold of the slightly chilly doorknob.

I slowly opened it. A brisk breeze came blowing through the door frame, causing snowflakes to stick to my hair.

The door led outside. A narrow stone-paved path extended out, continuing through a hedge arch. This must have been the library’s backdoor. I wasn’t aware there had been a rear entrance.

The boy was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed he was hiding somewhere beyond the hedge. I walked out into the flurry of snow, making my way through the arch.

On the other side lay a parking lot. It was surrounded by the tall hedge, and there was enough space for about two cars. A long black limousine was currently parked there, offering a sharp contrast to the white snowscape.

The boy from earlier stood next to the car. As if beckoning me forth, he opened one of the limo doors.

“What do you want...?” I asked. “Are you telling me to get in?”

The boy nodded.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, getting into a defensive stance. “Where will it take me? I bet if I get in that car, I’ll never be seen or heard from ever again.”

No response. Was he mute, or could he not understand what I was saying? He held the door wide open like a bellhop, awaiting my next move.

Who was trying to take me somewhere, and why? I was either dealing with the world’s most courteous kidnappers, or receiving the world’s sketchiest party invitation.

Like I’d be stupid enough to fall for this obvious trap.

But there was a reason for me to not turn around and leave.

Whoever was behind this may have done the same to Kyoko. That meant it was potentially worthwhile to purposefully play along. If they took Kyoko somewhere, then I anticipated that they would bring me to the same destination.

“Fine, I’ll get in,” I said firmly, feigning courage.

The boy in the vest smiled, offering his hand to help me inside. It felt weird having such a young kid treat me so respectfully.

I took his hand and bent my head down to enter the dimly lit vehicle.

The sound of the door shutting immediately after I sat down nearly jolted me out of the seat.

The ceiling light illuminated the face of the man across from me.

He looks awfully familiar—

The second I realized his identity, I screamed. My body had already instinctively started groping for the door handle.

I have to get out of here!

“I mean you no harm,” said the husky male voice. “Had I the desire to erase you from this world, you would have already breathed your last. Do you understand?”

I slunk my head down and fiercely nodded.

The bearded man facing me had long hair that was slicked back, completing a rugged look. The fiery glint in his eyes suggested he was a man of passion, but in stark contrast to that, his pale skin appeared to have been deprived of sunlight for a long time, and his sunken cheeks were characteristic of a body in poor health. He had a very calm and mature demeanor.

“I trust that you are aware of my identity?”

While letting out a cough, he reached into the inner pocket of his black overcoat and pulled out a Detective Library ID card, before casually shoving it in front of my face.

Gekka Ryuuzouji: DSC Number [000]

The first triple-zero ID I had ever laid my eyes on, proof of his distinction in every field as a detective.

He was one of the detectives who reigned supreme at the top of the Detective Library—the “Count of the Armchair,” Gekka Ryuuzouji.

I reverently returned his ID, which he accepted with slightly quivering hands. The tips of his fingers were thin and dried, reminding me of withered branches.

After another coughing fit, he took a glass from the side table and poured himself some whiskey. As if treating it like an elixir, he downed it in one gulp.

All of a sudden, the car started moving.

Why was he in a place like this? Was he waiting for me?

As the car accelerated, questions sped through my mind.

Ryuuzouji and I sat face-to-face, the two of us alone in the enclosed moving space. The boy from earlier was in the passenger seat, beyond the partition dividing the vehicle. My seat was fluffy and comfortable, which had a slight effect in relaxing my fear-stiffened body.

In any other situation, sitting across from Gekka Ryuuzouji would be nothing short of a great honor. Yet finding myself in this moment, I was convinced fate had screwed things up somewhere along the way.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“...Sixteen.”

“A fine number. The moon on its sixteenth night symbolizes hesitation and hope...” Ryuuzouji looked down at the glass in his hands and muttered something to himself that I couldn’t quite catch. His handsome voice was soothing to my ears. “You appear perplexed. I shall answer anything you wish to ask.”

“Where are we headed?”

“A place where lost lambs seek salvation.”

“Lambs...?”

“Those whose paths have become enshrouded in darkness have flocked in thousands to bask in my guiding light.”

He was speaking in riddles.

“Are you talking about your detective agency?”

“Well done. We will soon be approaching my headquarters. I welcome you inside with open arms.”

Out of the three triple-zero class detectives, Ryuuzouji was the only one who operated a physical office and took requests from the general public. He was said to have solved hundreds of cases every day, but what was impressive was that he solved all of them without moving an inch from his chair, hence the nickname “Count of the Armchair.” “Armchair” came from the term armchair detective, while “Count” seemed to be inspired by his appearance.

“Why invite me?” I asked.

“I have reviewed the Duel Noirs you took part in. There have been rumors about your ineptitude as a detective, but I cannot bring myself to mock you. Do you know why?”

Ryuuzouji closed his mouth, waiting for an answer. I couldn’t come up with a response, so after a few seconds of silence, he continued.

“Because I was once just like you. Indeed, your determination deserves praise, not ridicule.”

He was spouting some weird things. I couldn’t take his words at face value; rather, I grew suspicious of his patronizing attitude.

“...What do you mean by that?” I asked, slightly defensively.

“I mean that it would be a shame to lose you.”

“Lose me?”

“I wonder, have you ever thought about your own death? Or, have you perhaps drafted a will?”

“Huh? What...?” I tilted my head to the side, unable to figure out his intentions. The more I thought about it, the more distasteful his question sounded. “Um... What are you getting at...?”

“My apologies. It is time.”

Ryuuzouji raised one hand to cut me off, pulled out a cellphone, and started dialing a number.

As the phone connected, he turned to the driver’s seat and said, “Maintain the legal speed limit. Do not go even one mile per hour over.”

What was about to happen?

Next: Chapter 1, Part 3

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

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jarienn972 · 5 years

Text

Curse of Undoings - Part 11

Emma's off to battle the Black Fairy while an unconscious Killian battles for his life. That's pretty much what this chapter focuses on but, to change the pace a bit, I gave this chapter a bit of a different flow since much of the action is taking place simultaneously. (Please excuse any inaccuracies with the OR scenes as it's not my field of expertise so I gloss over a lot of the details. It's more about setting up a dire situation than about being a medical drama.)

No major trigger warnings for this chapter but there are several rapid scene and POV changes. Tagging @killian-whump, @castielamigos and @hookaroo for this action packed chapter.

Read from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net or here on Tumblr: Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10

Henry started to lose track of time as he sat behind the Admission desk waiting for his grandparents to arrive. He was cognizant enough to know that it hadn't been too long since he'd arrived with Killian, but he truly had no idea if he'd been waiting ten minutes or sixty. When he finally spotted the Sheriff cruiser pulling up to the Emergency entrance, his spirits lifted a little. At least, for the first time today, he would have someone he could rely on to get him through it all.

"Where's Killian Jones?" David demanded as the automated doors parted and he stomped purposefully into the Emergency ward with his wife following behind, shaking her head dismissively at her husband's overly forceful behavior.

"David, this is a hospital," Snow reminded him. "You really shouldn't be shouting."

"Mr. Jones was just taken up to the OR for surgery to remove the bullet," nurse Cathy advised the Prince. "It'll be a while before we know anything more, sir."

"Alright," David replied in a more muted tone as he got closer to the Admission desk. "Is my grandson around here somewhere?"

"I'm right here," Henry said as he popped up out of his chair so David could see him behind the tall desk. "What took you guys so long?"

"Sorry, Henry," Snow began. "David couldn't find the keys to the car."

"Hey, it's not my fault that Emma moved them!" David snapped back in mock offense. "I thought they'd still be in her desk drawer, not hanging on a peg on the break room wall." Snow gave her husband the of course, dear look, but didn't question him further. "Anyway, how was Hook when you got here?"

"He was having a really hard time breathing," Henry told them. "They thought the bullet hit his right lung and they said he'd lost a lot of blood, but I already knew that. He'd been bleeding pretty heavily from those cuts on his back and the stab wound in his shoulder even before Gideon shot him."

"You think Gideon was really trying to shoot you?" David asked, although he was really wanting to learn more about Hook's other wounds and how they'd originated.

"I know he was. Well, I mean I'm pretty sure he was. I didn't actually see him because I was too busy arguing with Mom. I just heard Killian shout, he shoved me, and I hit the sidewalk as the gun went off."

David massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger as he tried to figure it all out. What happened happened to his family in the hours he was missing and where the hell had they even gone to during that time? The Black Fairy had clearly done a number on everyone and whatever she'd done had certainly done serious damage to his daughter's psyche. He wouldn't feel an ounce of remorse for whatever Emma had planned for Fiona.

"What did Fiona do to all of you while we were gone? Hell, what did she do to us?" David questioned, his face wrought with frustration and confusion.

"She made Mom believe that Killian had murdered you and Grandma and filled Mom's head with so much hatred towards him because she was trying to destroy True Love. She wanted Mom to kill her own True Love so that she could undo all of the stories. She trapped the both of you, Mom, Aunt Zelena and probably a few other townspeople inside an enchanted snow globe that fell and broke when Killian pushed me out of the way… But the worst was the book. Everything in the book was fading away…"

"We were trapped in a snow globe?" David asked quizzically before Snow interrupted him.

"Oh, speaking of your book…" Snow jumped into the conversation with a hint of a smile on her lips. "We brought it back for you, along with your backpack. It was a little damp and I think I got all of the glass shards cleaned off of it. It's out in the car."

"Did you open the book? Are the stories still fading away?" Henry asked anxiously.

"I don't know," she replied. "I just scooped it up and cleaned it up for you. Didn't think to open it."

"Can we go get it while we're waiting? I need to see if it's coming back… to see if we broke the whole curse."

"Okay, come with me," David stated. "The car's right outside." Henry hurried toward the automated doors with David and Snow following right on their grandson's heels. Henry saw the backpack resting on the back seat of the cruiser and didn't waste a second retrieving it. He immediately yanked the book out of the pack and flipped through a few pages.

"It's still not all back," Henry announced, displaying one of the faded images for his grandparents. "See? Most of the color and portions of the text are still missing. I don't think the curse is completely broken."

"What if the curse hinges on Killian's survival?" Snow suggested. "If her goal was to destroy True Love, if he dies, Fiona's plan might still go through."

"Regina thought there could be repercussions," David reminded her. "I hope that pirate's survival instinct is still as strong as ever." David's ears perked up at a rumble of thunder off in the distance. "Guess we'd better get back inside to wait. Seems like a storm is rolling in."

"I hope that's really just a rainstorm…" Snow stated, her brow furrowed with worry.

Emma's instinct led her to Storybrooke's infamous clock tower above the library where she found Fiona eagerly awaiting her opponent on the catwalk atop the spiraling staircase. The Black Fairy was no longer attired in the tailored business suit she'd been sporting earlier but had donned her feathery, raven black gown, accessorized with a shiny long sword. It wasn't exactly an outfit that Emma would have chosen for a sword fight, but she wasn't certain of Fiona's level of experience in non-magical battle.

"Certainly took you long enough, Savior," the Black Fairy greeted her sarcastically. "I didn't expect you'd keep me waiting after the curse broke."

"Sorry. Had to stop and pick up the proper armaments first," Emma responded flatly as she reached the top of the stairs, internally cringing at the echo of her footsteps throughout the tower. She brandished the sword Rumple had provided which elicited a haughty laugh from Fiona.

"So, you've been chatting with my worthless son, I see," Fiona chuckled. You sure you want to wage the battle using the weapon your visions revealed was fated to kill you?"

"As long as you're on the receiving end, I'm just fine with it. If I'm meant to die, you had better believe that I'm taking you with me."

"You seem a little testy, Emma," the fairy grinned as she raised her sword. "Something else on your mind?"

"I'm quite sure you know what's on my mind – and that's precisely why I'm here to kill you!" Emma growled. "Now, since you don't have any magic to fight me, you think your skill with a sword is good enough? Or are you afraid to fight me without your powers?"

"Oh, I've some practice with a sword…" Fiona sneered as she surged forward, their blades crashing together. Emma really wasn't surprised that Fiona would have some sword fighting experience. After all, it seemed as though everyone from the Enchanted Forest had training with some sort of weapon. Fiona had probably been the one who'd instructed Gideon because their moves were similar. Of course, Fiona was right about one thing – Emma was fighting distracted.

And she became further distracted when she saw a flash of lightning illuminating the darkening skies outside of the tower. It had been clear a few minutes ago when she'd marched down Main Street to face off with Fiona, so what had changed? The fairy took note of the startled expression on her opponent's face and used it to her advantage, catching Emma off-guard as she scored a blow to her left shoulder, knocking Emma to the grated metal floor of the catwalk.

"What's the matter, Emma? Don't like the weather?" Fiona taunted her as Emma scrambled to get back on her feet.

"You don't have this kind of magic right now…" Emma stammered, shaking her head in disbelief. "What the hell is going on?"

"Did you honestly think that getting your memories and your family back from my little prison meant that the curse was broken?" Fiona lowered her sword momentarily as she laughed maniacally, yet she was very much in control. "The heart of my curse has always been undoing True Love. That storm brewing outside means that your very own True Love is dying. The moment his heart stops beating for good, this town and everyone in it will be swept away. It's not exactly what I had wanted - I would have preferred that you'd done it, but either way, I take all of the happy endings with me…"

"Well then, I guess you die first." Emma swung the heavy sword towards Fiona's midsection but the fairy was faster, easily fending off Emma's parry as the skies continued to grow blacker, illuminated only by the intermittent flashes of lightning.

"Time's growing short, Savior," Fiona gloated. "Do you really want to spend your last few minutes fighting with me instead of saying goodbye to your family?"

"Killian's a survivor. He'll pull through this and if I kill you, I can still save my family."

"Really? Prepared to bet your life on it?"

Emma set her jaw and scowled. This bitch was going down. She owed it to her family – and especially to her husband.

"There's the bullet," Dr. Whale announced from behind his mask. "It's definitely embedded into the rib just as the X-ray suggested. Let's get it out of there and see what we can do to repair the bone. Looks as though we'll probably need to pin it back together. Janet, can I get some suction over here? These little bleeders are making it difficult to see into the incision clearly." He used the point of his scalpel to indicate the spot where blood was pooling. He wanted to get this bullet removed quickly so the pirate wouldn't bleed to death on his operating room table. Jones' blood pressure was still dangerously low and Whale suspected that there might still be internal bleeding around the puncture wound to his patient's left shoulder, but the bullet wound definitely took precedence. His right lung had already collapsed from the trauma and Whale knew that a portion of the tissue probably couldn't be salvaged. That would have to be re-evaluated later though since this life-saving procedure was of the utmost importance.

With his forceps, Whale gripped the offending chunk of lead but just as he prepared to extract it from the surrounding bone, the bright lamp above the table flickered.

"What the hell?" the doctor exclaimed as he paused. " Did somebody just bump the lamp?"

"No, Doctor," came a chorus of replies just as the lamp flickered again – only this time, it wasn't the only device in the room that seemed to be malfunctioning. The monitor tracking the patient's vitals was suddenly registering wild fluctuations in the pattern of wavy lines and numbers and sounded its distress as a series of loud beeps and blips.

"Doctor, I don't know if he's going arrhythmic or if our equipment is going haywire…" the nurse in charge of monitoring vitals spoke up just as all of the lines went solid and crimson warning lights lit up the screen.

"Damnit Jones!" Whale growled. "You are not dying on me!" Not willing to rely solely on the potentially failing monitors, Whale dropped his tools onto a nearby tray and found a stethoscope to confirm for himself if his patient's heart had stopped. He tossed aside one of the mint green surgical drapes to get better access to his patient's chest and soon verified that he couldn't hear a heartbeat. "Get me the defibrillator paddles!" As the nurse prepped the machine, Whale pressed the heel of his palm into Jones' sternum to begin compressions, silently mouthing a prayer that whatever was causing the power fluctuations wouldn't affect the defibrillator before he had a chance to shock the pirate's heart back into rhythm.

"Fully charged now, Doctor," the nurse stated as she carefully handed the defibrillator paddles to Whale one at a time.

"Okay, everybody clear!" he ordered, the team immediately making certain that they weren't in contact with either the patient or any part of the operating room table. Satisfied that it was safe to proceed, Whale touched the paddles to either side of his patient's chest, the jolt sending electricity surging through Jones' unresponsive body. The monitor reflected a brief flash of activity before it returned to a flat line. "Charge again!" Whale snapped impatiently at the nurse while she reset the equipment for a second attempt.

As Whale repeated the process, the room was plunged into darkness for a few precious seconds until the emergency generators kicked in. The doctor cursed under his breath at the unfortunate timing of whatever was causing these power fluctuations. There was little time to waste if he was going to have even a chance to get Jones' heart beating again. He counted nearly thirty seconds before the monitors powered back on with the same warnings flashing on the screen.

"It's going to be a few more seconds before the defibrillator is ready again," the nurse informed him as she tinkered with a series of buttons and dials to get the machine working again.

"Then somebody hold these while I start compressions again," Whale stated as he passed the paddles to another nurse. "We can't afford to waste time here so please - tell me when that damned thing is charged again!"

"It won't be long now," Fiona taunted as the blade of her sword clashed against Emma's once again. "Storybrooke's infrastructure is already failing. Can't you feel it?"

"I have had just about enough of you!" a disgusted Emma shouted as she determined it was time to try a new tactic. As Fiona shifted her stance to ward off Emma's strike, Emma suddenly changed direction, pulling back instead of advancing and stomping her boot onto the feathery hem of Fiona's gown. The move caught the fairy off balance and as soon as Emma saw the opening, she slammed the butt end of the sword into Fiona's rib cage, dropping the fairy to her knees as she became entangled in her own skirt. Fiona attempted to recover her bearings but this time, Emma moved faster, bringing the tip of her blade to the hollow of Fiona's throat.

"Go ahead, Savior – kill me!" Fiona hissed at her opponent. "Go ahead and do it, but it won't stop my curse. The storm is settling in all around us because your True Love is dead!"

Emma wanted more than anything at that moment to simply plunge the blade straight into the Black Fairy's jugular, but her trembling hands - and her own morality wouldn't allow her to do it.

"Hand too shaky to do this right?" the fairy mocked her. "Ah, the curse of being the Savior…"

Emma squeezed her eyes closed for a few seconds, keeping the blade pressed into Fiona's neck as she tried to push the visions and the tremors out of her head. "No – this is all just a trick! These visions, the tremors – it's all you! You've been getting into my head to make me fear this battle, but you know what – I'm not afraid of it anymore and I don't even have to kill you to win." With one swift, skillful swath, Emma drew the tip of the blade from left to right across Fiona's neck, leaving behind a shallow cut that was just deep enough to draw blood.

"That's all? Is that all you have?" Fiona scoffed.

"That's all I need," Emma replied with a triumphant grin as she watched a series of scarlet rivulets trickle down onto the flat of the sword's blade, triggering a reaction that the Black Fairy hadn't anticipated. The blade began to glow with an unearthly greenish light and Emma thought she'd explain what was happening. "You see, your son told me that he coated the blade with a special potion that only required a drop of your blood to activate and now – now I get to send you back where you belong!"

Fiona's eyes widened as the glowing sword began to pull her toward it. "No… No, he couldn't have…" the fairy fumbled for words as she found herself being dragged into the magnetic field the sword was creating. "No!" She had time for one final exclamation as the sword seemed to suck her into itself, causing Emma to lose her grip on the handle which sent the sword clattering onto the grating. As it hit the floor, the glow faded away, allowing the blade to resume its normal appearance - and the only remaining trace of the Black Fairy was a fluttering of stray feathers.

A shaken, exhausted Emma leaned against the tower wall, unable to trust that her weakening knees would continue to support her. While Rumple has said that simply drawing blood from Fiona would send her back to her realm, it had still been quite disconcerting to see her opponent sucked into the blade like that. The Black Fairy was now trapped permanently in some distant dimension, but her cursed storm wasn't letting up. Now Emma feared that Fiona had been right – it might already be too late.

She needed to get to the hospital now.

#ouat ff #killian jones ff #cs ff #killian whump #whump fic #curse of undoings #adding the cs tag now too

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Six of One, Half Dozen of Another” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian are back home from college in time for Valentine's Day. Neither of them are particularly fond of the holiday, but they manage to find some common ground.

... Or common ice. (1930 words)

Notes: I wrote this for Valentine's. It's a little late.

Pat 53 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“Ugh … just … ugh …” Sebastian groans - the fiftieth time since he and Kurt left the Westerville rink. Kurt shakes his head but he can’t stop smiling, riding high on the euphoria of three hours spent chaperoning the rink’s annual Valentine’s Social – a 50s themed hop on ice. The rink pulls out all the stops for Valentine’s Day: renting a jukebox, putting up old time-y soda shop décor, dressing the staff in leather jackets and poodle skirts, and so on. But the highlight of the makeover (as far as Kurt’s concerned) is the gigantic red heart painted mid-ice - a place where brave souls can bring their crushes to confess their feelings.

People have even been known to propose there.

Kurt has never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day, but he is a sucker for romance.

Call him a silly romantic, but yeah.

Sebastian makes a noise that sounds like another long, sustained ‘ugggggggh’, and Kurt snickers.

“What’s going on with you? I thought you had fun tonight.”

“I did,” Sebastian says, “but only because I got to spend it with you.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“I don’t particularly like Valentine’s Day,” Sebastian grumbles, pausing at a corner, then making a right.

“I know.”

“And neither do you.”

“I know that, too.”

“So why do you get to be all high and mighty?”

“Because unlike you, I can look past the cheap chocolates and the obnoxious red hearts and appreciate the romance … the love … the drama.”

“Yeah” - Sebastian snorts - “because that’s what we need more of down at the rink. Drama.”

“When did you turn into such a big fuddy-duddy? Admit it - you love drama as much as I do.”

“True, but there’s a difference between the catty bull crap we usually fling around and purposefully setting people up to fail.”

“Ah.” Kurt nods, watching the stop light they’re approaching change colors from amber to red. “Let me guess … it was that big heart on the ice.”

“Yes, it was that big heart on the ice! First of all, I can’t imagine the amount of money the rink spends every year to paint it there, and then layer how much ice over it? It’s going to be there for months!”

“You do realize it’s tradition.” Kurt interjects. “It’s actually there for Heart Disease Awareness month. The proceeds from tonight’s ticket sales are going to the American Heart Association.”

“I guess …” Sebastian seethes, and Kurt knows he forgot. “Okay, fine. It’s for a good cause. Yippee. Still, what happens when those new relationships break up? What if those proposals don’t work out? Our regulars are going to be forced to come back to the rink and see that big red sign of failure just sitting under there! If it were me, I’d practice at my own rink to avoid it. We might have actually driven business away without even knowing it!” Sebastian glances over at Kurt pulling a face and frowns. “I take it you don’t agree.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“Don’t you think it’s kind of tacky? Making a big display like that? Getting down on your knee in front of a bunch of strangers to profess your so-called undying love?”

“I guess so. But, when you think about it, Valentine’s Day isn’t meant to be subtle. It’s supposed to be over the top.”

“It still sucks,” Sebastian mutters, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waits for the light to change.

“Oh, Sebby,” Kurt coos, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder and kneading. “I didn’t know how deeply you cared about the love lives of strangers.”

“I don’t.” Sebastian’s signature sarcastic smile makes a brief, fleeting appearance before he stares off into the distance, purposefully avoiding Kurt’s playful gaze. “But I know what it’s like to make a grand gesture … and have it rejected.”

“Oh. Oh. Oh, Sebastian …” Kurt falls quiet, the atmosphere in the car going from one of lighthearted teasing to guilt with the changing of the street lights. Sebastian isn’t talking about Kurt. They had their fights in the beginning, but once Kurt knew he mattered to Sebastian, he stopped fighting and opened his heart to him. It’s his parents Sebastian is referring to. He worked hard over the years to make them proud, and when gold medals and first place podiums started becoming the status quo, he worked even harder to get their attention. So many routines he’d choreographed in dedication to his parents just for the meaning to go over their heads.

Or for them not to show up at all.

Kurt hears Sebastian sniff but that could be from the cold. If he doesn’t bring it up, Kurt will leave it there. Sebastian glances over his shoulder to check for clearance before changing lanes, and when he turns back, he has his smirk fixed in place as if it had never left.

“Meh. You live, you learn. Ancient history.”

“I guess so.” Kurt watches Sebastian and not the road as silence brings him back to the handful of times he’s gotten to meet Sebastian’s parents. It’s strange, and difficult, being around the three of them together. In front of Kurt (and Kurt imagines, in front of other people in general) they act like regular, doting parents, joking with their son about him having a boyfriend and asking them both questions about their plans for the future. But there’s something else about them, something underneath the good-natured teasing and pleasant conversation.

Like they’re playing a part, reciting the lines required before they get to pack up their things and fly away again.

Which makes the thought of them going back to Sebastian’s house tonight an unpalatable one. His folks are there, on layover before they return to a gala in Italy they swore up and down is for work. And Kurt has no doubt it is.

That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the right thing for them to do.

Kurt foresees a mildly uncomfortable dinner in their future, and that dampens his romance-fueled buzz. But at least this time, Kurt and Sebastian are only visiting, too – on break from college for a week, mostly to celebrate the anniversary of Kurt’s mom’s remission.

Kurt turns his attention back to the windshield when the road they’re driving winds. The dark outside gets darker, and Kurt realizes Sebastian isn’t taking him to the main house on his parents’ property, but to his rink instead. “Uh, Seb?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Why are we here? We just skated for three hours. I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to getting out of these pants. They’re a wee bit snug.”

“That’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear you say.”

“And I hadn’t planned on eating two dozen baby cupcakes, but nonetheless, here we are.”

Sebastian pulls up alongside the outer wall and turns off the engine. “As much as I want to see you out of those tight jeans, I actually planned something for tonight. Something kind of special.”

“You did?”

Sebastian side-eyes his skeptical boyfriend. “Are you surprised?”

“May-be. You’ve spent so much time griping, I thought you might just want to forget doing something as a couple on Valentine’s Day.”

“Are you kidding? Any excuse to get you dressed up and alone …”

“You know, coming from anyone else that would sound creepy.”

“Well, thank goodness I’m not anyone else.” Sebastian opens his door and gets out, closing it quickly behind him when a cold wind blows through. He tromps through the snow, rounding the rear of the vehicle to get to Kurt’s door. “Come on,” he says, opening the door and offering Kurt his arm, “let’s get inside and out of this cold.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it’s warmer inside an ice rink than out here.”

“Yeah. Too bad climate change doesn’t exist.”

“We live on the ice. We’ll be alright.”

Sebastian ushers Kurt to the door, playfully putting a hand over his eyes when he leads his boyfriend inside. Kurt hears Sebastian switch on the lights … or maybe switch them off. From what he can see past what Sebastian’s hand doesn’t cover, the switch he threw has done little to change the illumination of the room. He can’t see much else past that, but closes his eyes regardless so as not to ruin Sebastian’s surprise.

Sebastian barely has to help Kurt. He knows his way around Sebastian’s rink by heart. He knows from the start that they’re heading for the ice. But if they’re not skating, why in the world would they be there?

“Okay.” Sebastian adjusts his boyfriend’s stance, then readjusts him several times to get him in the right position. Or to mess with him. That’s a possibility, too. “Now … look.”

Sebastian removes his hand from Kurt’s eyes. Kurt blinks them once. It doesn’t take much to adjust to the light in here. He thought he knew what he would see when Sebastian took his hand away but he was wrong. Sebastian’s rink is impressive all on its own, but what he has created takes Kurt’s breath away.

Sebastian kept the twinkle lights up from Christmas. When Kurt had asked Sebastian why he hadn’t taken them down when he took down the tree, he said he liked the ambiance. Kurt should have known something was up then.

Sebastian and ambiance aren’t two words oft heard in the same sentence.

But sometime between the last time Kurt was there (which was that afternoon) and tonight, he’s hung red, pink, and gold foil hearts all around – on the walls and dangling from the ceiling. But when did he get the time? Kurt was seriously with him every minute of that day. Is it possible he actually got Blaine, who’d taken off from school to join them, to help him? Otherwise Kurt has no idea how he could have pulled it off! And if he did humble himself to asking Kurt’s best friend, who Sebastian still jokes that he doesn’t particularly like, to help him decorate for Kurt, that makes Kurt love Sebastian all the more.

Electric candles line the rails of the rink; red and pink rose petals scattered around; and soft, romantic music piped through the overhead speakers; while lazy golden lights drift across the ice, courtesy of an upgrade to the overhead spotlight system. Those lights dance over the piece de resistance - a king-sized bed sitting center ice in the middle of a large, red mat, with a red carpet walkway leading straight to Kurt’s feet.

It looks like the cover of a Harlequin Romance novel. And as cheesy as that is, Kurt can’t help but swoon just a little.

Again – silly romantic.

“So … this doesn’t count as over-the-top?” Kurt laughs as Sebastian takes his hands and leads him down the red carpet towards the bed. It’s then that Kurt spots their Zuca bags, standing side by side at the head, just in case they want to get some after nookie skating in, Kurt guesses.

An image of them post-coitus, trying to land jumps and perform scratch spins on shaky legs, makes him laugh harder.

“Nope. Because you and I are certifiably in love. And this …” Sebastian glances over at the bed behind them, covered in satin blankets, a mound of pillows, a bouquet of long stemmed roses, plus a silver tray crowded with strawberries, a dish of cream, and a bottle of sparkling cider, kept chill by the icy air of Sebastian’s rink “… this counts as the bare minimum.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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kariachi · 5 years

Text

Chapter 4 of the pokemon au! I actually got out a damage calculator to make sure I got this battle just right!

“Finally! We made it, Rose.” Though she couldn’t see the town at the edge of the trail, all but carved into the side of the mountain, Kevin’s little Deino still gave an excited cry. He’d called her out as soon as he’d gathered up his broken pokeballs, determined both to get to know his first pokemon (first friend) and that if he was going to wander around the mountain aching with bites and bruises so was she. The company had been nice, though he’d had to develop a habit of trudging through the snow with an arm around her neck to keep her from blindly wandering away and falling off a cliff or something. They’d even been through a few battles, though those maybe hadn’t been the best showing…

It was fine, she’d already been injured, once they were both patched up everything would be great.

This close to Tambou the trail was much smoother and easier to follow, even growing a fence at some point, which meant it only took about an hour and a half for the pair to make their way passed the town gate and to the Pokemon Center, where the resident Joy had just about choked to see them covered in Kevin’s haphazard bandaging. The two were immediately hustled into the back, where Kevin had been forced at Chansey-point to explain exactly why they both looked like they’d fallen down the mountain (carefully leaving out the point where they had, the day before, almost fallen down the mountain, because telling adults that sort’ve thing never ended well).

Honestly Kevin had very quickly found himself very uncomfortable with the situation, unused to everything from having someone else patch him up to having someone else make sure he ate. Rose hadn’t been much better, being only a few days out of the wild and possibly catching on to his own discomfort. She bit the Chansey twice and the nurse once before she and Kevin were able to flee out the front door with a key to one of the Center’s dormrooms, a note asking someone at the local market to sell him a replacement tent for cheap (with a promise Joy would make up the difference later) that Kevin was tempted to toss, and an order to not head for the gym until they at least had a good night’s sleep under their belts.

Kevin had never in his life followed an order and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

The Tambou Pokemon Gym was the highest building in the town, up what felt like hundreds of steps towards the mountain’s peak. It was an impressive thing, all carved stone and glass, with loads of thick wooden beams that served as perches for great flocks of flying types. Kevin had never seen so many in one place before, nor such a variety- everything from Unfezant to Corviknight preened and chattered and watched people bustle around below. It was almost intimidating. It was intimidating. A hint of doubt nibbled at the base of his spine as he watched them, only to be shoved away with a shake of his head. He was smart and talented and a trainer who had caught his own first pokemon, which was more than you could say for most people, and he was not about to be intimidated by a bunch of birds. No. Arm in place around Rose he purposefully strode forward and shouldered open the door.

The fact that the first gym trainer they saw was just, staring at them in concern did nothing to stop Kevin leading Rose forward, back straight and shoulders back.

“I’m here to challenge the gym.” The trainer looked down at their bandages, bruises, cuts, then back at his face.

“You’re sure?”

“Yep.” She chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed and turned to another trainer.

“Go tell Akash he has a challenger?” The other teen also gave Kevin and Rose a critical look, but nodded and trotted across the arena to a door at the back, his Hoppip floating behind him. It was only a few minutes, five at most, before Flying Master Akash strode back out the door with a grin on his face and a Swoobat hanging from his arm, clearly more than ready to greet and face whoever had arrived.

Then he saw Kevin and Rose.

Face softening to something less bombastic, he walked forward and held out a hand to shake, one that Kevin gave his best grip.

“Hello there, trainer. Ivan didn’t give me your name?”

“Kevin,” he replied, “and this is Rose.” She chirped at her name, then tried to take a bite out of the Swoobat when it dropped to the ground to come investigate her, only being stopped by Kevin’s restrictive grip. Akash watched this with some interest.

“How long have you been a trainer, Kevin?” That, was not a question he liked.

“About a week,” he didn’t quite lie. Akash just nodded.

“And you already have a Deino, she from family?”

“No, caught her a few days back.” The trainer he’d spoke to before took a hissing breath through her teeth, prompting Kevin to throw a glare her way, through the gym leader and his pokemon paid neither any mind.

“Well,” he said instead, “that’s quite an accomplishment for someone only a week into their journey.” The compliment ricocheted around Kevin’s head, bringing the first hints of a smile to Kevin’s face before he continued. “Still, normally the challengers we see are a little… bigger.”

Which was certainly one way of saying they didn’t tend to get new trainers challenging. Okay, he understood that Tambou was usually a gym trainers hit later in their journeys, and that most trainers did put their journeys on pause early on to spend a few years growing and learning before continuing, but-

“Part of your job is to be able to adjust to give a proper challenge to trainers at any point in their journey,” he said, jaw clenching and familiar stubbornness steeling his spine. Rose crooned agreement.

“That it is,” Akash said with a sigh, looking like he was honestly concerned, which just aggravated Kevin further. “I just want to be sure you want to challenge me now. Most people take another week to challenge their first gym.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not most people.”

“Clearly.” He looked Kevin and Rose over one last time, then nodded and began to head for the far end of the arena, where he pulled a drawer out of the wall. “How many pokemon do you have?”

“One.” And Akash froze. The gym trainers froze. It was clear, especially with the way all of them turned to stare, that they were doing the math in their heads and coming up with numbers they didn’t like. Kevin just glared back until everyone else looked away, the trainers bustling over to the stands to watch and take notes, and Akash returning to choosing his team.

“Alright then, Kevin,” he said, “it’ll be a one-on-one battle, first pokemon to be rendered unable to continue will lose, agreed?” Kevin lead Rose to the challenger’s end of the arena and ushered her within the boundaries as the gym leader spoke.

“Agreed.” Akash took his place opposite Kevin, tossing a single pokeball in his hand, watching Rose for several seconds before sighing and releasing the pokemon inside.

The Spearow gave a harsh cry and immediately took to the air, clearly ready for a fight, and Kevin couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He’d always liked Spearow, they were his favorite flying-type for their perfect combination of form, function, and aesthetic. Capable of exactly what they needed to be capable of, with no excess fuss, while looking like something whose nest you should stay away from. It was right about Weedle as a species that, in that dull pre-Rose world, would’ve been a tempting catch.

But his Deino was better.

“Rose, Dragon Rage!” With a trill the little dragon let loose a familiar plume of blue flame towards the Spearow. Technically. Kevin cringed as it missed with the flying-type hardly having to move at all. “Again!” Another plume, and another miss. She just couldn’t tell where it was, only a vague idea from the sound of it’s wingbeats. Akash allowed this to happen three times, giving them plenty of chances to land a blow before retaliating.

“Aerial Ace!” Contact move, their best chance-

“Bite!” Rose tried, bless her, twisting and lunging in the direction of the approaching bird, but Spearow were faster by their very nature and she was barely able to close her teeth around the end of it’s tail as it collided with her, yanking out a few feathers when she tumbled aside with a whine. Kevin’s stomach dropped as from just the one blow she struggled to return to her feet.

“Again, Spearow!”

“Tackle!” Again the Spearow dove, and this time Rose threw herself forward to meet it, releasing a cry when they collided and the bird’s momentum overpowered her own. For the second time she was sent tumbling, skidding over the boundary line to Kevin’s right as the breath caught in his throat. She whimpered, and didn’t rise again.

It was only barely that Kevin heard one of the gym trainers declare Flying Master Akash and and his Spearow the victors.

#fanfic #kevin levin #the fic with no name #poor babies

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fallling-skys-blog · 6 years

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47 49 and 74 with murdoc, i love your work btw

“You’re angry with me, I know.”

(Thank you, I’m so happy that you like what I write! 49 and 74 are under the cut!)

“I can’t believe him! The nerve!” You said, fully aware of how overdramatic you sounded and not caring in the slightest.

“Yes, Murdoc is not very dating savvy. Actually that is probably because you are the only one who has put up with him for this long. To be fair, you are his first date since,” Noodle struggles to think of someone who had dated Murdoc since she’d been at Kong and fails, “many one night stands.”

“You have a point but still! It’s infuriating,” You say, pacing back and forth while Noodle sips on her milkshake.

It’d started off innocent enough. You’d been assigned to help out the band with whatever they needed as a kind of intern, which was even worse since they were on tour at the moment, and right away you’d established that you’d listen to what they needed but you wouldn’t take any shit from Murdoc or the others, especially Murdoc since he’d made an unsavory joke in your direction within seconds of meeting you.

As soon as you’d set clear boundaries, you’d grown extremely close to the band, becoming best of friends with the teenage guitarist Noodle. You listened to what every single person in the band had to say, making you a favourite amongst them all. Eventually, Murdoc took to you and your listening skills and would tell you things that nobody in the band had even ever heard of and you’d found yourself slowly falling for the mess of a man that played bass in this odd band.

Which had lead to you, Murdoc, 2D, Russel, and Noodle all being stuck inside a small, weirdly scented taxi headed to a small diner in New York. It certainly wasn’t the night you’d imagined but it was interesting and not horrible in the least. You’d ended up having to sit on Murdoc’s lap in the back since Noodle refused to give up the passenger seat to Russel so that you could all squish together in the back and he would have room to breathe, especially since he wasn’t fond of being forced into small places with people, even the ones that he knew. She was being extremely ornery tonight for some reason and nobody really felt like arguing with her anyways so you all had come up with the seating arrangement of Russel on the left, 2D in the middle, and you on Murdoc’s lap on the right.

When you’d arrived and were free of the small car space, 2D and Russel sat themselves at booth across from each other, talking excitedly about something or another while you sat across from Murdoc, Noodle sliding in next to you.

“C’mon Noodle, why don’t you go by Russ and 2D? Sure, they’re not as entertaining as me but I’m sure they’ll get the job done,” Murdoc said and was met with Noodle rolling her eyes.

“I want a milkshake, 2D always forgets his wallet, and Russel needs a break from me today anyways. Besides, I want to watch you embarrass yourself on your date!” Noodle replied, with a devilish grin.

“Alright, alright, do what you want. It’s not like anyone in this bloody house can stop you,” He’d replied.

“And do you know why? It is because I am the greatest fighter and guitarist the world has ever seen! One day I will be even better than you Murdoc,” She said and you couldn’t help but laugh at her excitement.

“Guess she takes after you when it comes to confidence,” You joked and Murdoc had chuckled.

“Greatest role model to take after when it comes to that, not so much the other stuff,” He answers honestly and you nod.

“You’re getting better,” You say.

“You really think so love? Don’t flatter me too much or I’ll have to buy you every mediocre food item they have on the menu and I’ll be added to the list of idiot tourist names these lot pass around every night. Can you imagine? The Murdoc Niccals written off as a sap and forced to start collecting snow globes?” Murdoc says.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. Snow globes might be the next baseball cards. In 2040 you might even be able to sell them for millions, you never know,” You reply.

“Or beanie babies, those are popular as well,” Noodle adds, looking up briefly from reading the menu.

“Moral of the story really’s to hoard things then isn’t it?” Murdoc asks and you smirk.

“Guess so, someone should really start writing a children’s book teaching kids about this,” You reply.

“Well it sure as hell can’t be me, I can barely talk to Noodle,” Murdoc says and Noodle laughs.

“That’s not your fault, only trained professionals and cats can talk to me and you are neither,” Noodle answers.

“I’ll have you know that many have said hearing my voice is like the sound of angel whispering the answers to all their problems and when it’s combined with my bass, it can cure them of anything,” Murdoc says and Noodle snorts.

“So the sound of dying crows mixed with your terrible playing cured them?” Noodle says.

“Can you believe this?” Murdoc asks you and you shrug.

“Your singing is objectively horrible” You reply.

“Sounds somethin’ like a dying seagull!” 2D pipes up from the seat behind you, ducking when Murdoc throws a stray fork at him and smiling triumphantly at Russel when he misses being hit.

The waitress comes at what seemed like just the right time since Noodle was practically jumping out of her skin in her seat and you were running out of quippy remarks to Murdoc and were devolving into awkwardly complimenting each other, which as adorable as it was embarrassing for the both of you.

“Can I take your order?” She asks directly to Murdoc and you can’t help but roll your eyes at her directness.

“Yes, I would like a strawberry milkshake and for you to stop lusting after my father,” Noodle says, making a gagging sign in your direction.

You learned that she only calls Murdoc her father when defending him to others or when she was trying to thwart people’s efforts to hit on him or his efforts to hit on someone else when she wanted to have a nice night without being haunted by images of Murdoc sticking his tongue down someone random person’s throat. Other than that he was just “Murdoc” or “Mr. Niccals” if she was making fun of him, usually in a voice mocking an interviewer.

Brother was reserved for 2D when she felt loving and if she was building him up to someone and she’d tell people that he was like a pet if she was annoyed with him that day. Russel was always called her uncle no matter what because he was almost always her favourite and deserved the title.

“Oh, that’s so nice to see that you take your daughter out to dinners for bonding time!” The waitress said, ignoring Noodle much to both your and Noodle’s irritation.

“It’s not that hard being a father really, just takes the right kind of time and dedication. Lots of that kind of thing, mmm,” He’d replied.

Noodle didn’t end up getting her milkshake and glared at Murdoc, purposefully only talking to you until 2D brang her one, saying that he’d heard her try and order it. She’d thanked him with a hug and smile, telling him that she wished she was at his table right now because watching Murdoc flirt with a waitress was boring and she definitely preferred talking to Russel and him much more.

Finally, when the server had written her number on his napkin and her address with a heart you’d gotten off in a huff, Noodle following close behind saying that you two had to go to the bathroom which had led you to right now. Ranting to Noodle in the back of the restaurant about the irritating night.

“Who even writes their adress on a napkin? He could be a serial killer for all she knows. You know what, want to ride home with me? We can take our own taxi,” You offer, not feeling like dealing with anymore terrible flirting tonight.

“Yes! Our taxi will be so much better anyways, trust me, I am much more fun than the rest of the band!” She reassures you and you can’t help but smile at her confidence.

To her credit, it was an extremely fun car ride especially since the taxi driver allowed her to blast music and roll down the windows all of the way. It was the most fun car ride that you’d probably experienced so far but as soon as you got back into the house your mood soured again.

You managed to walk straight into Murdoc after Noodle had ran off to say goodnight to the band.

“I would say sorry but I think that’s your job,” You’d told him and he’d sighed.

“You’re angry with me, I know, but it wasn’t anything. I don’t know why you’re so mad, I can’t help it if the bird was all over me,” He starts and you stare back at him with an expression of disbelief.

“I’m pretty sure you were flirting back with her on what you said was supposed to be a date for the two of us,” You answer.

“What?” He laughs, “I’m guilty of leading her on a bit but the entire time you were gone I was telling her about you. She even took back her number that she gave me, never had that happen unless I was pissed drunk but that’s not the point, love. The point’s that I’m horrible at this and the next time I’ll do this sort of thing right, yeah? Anything you want and we’ll go do it.”

“Fine but if you blow your shot next time, I’ll move onto the next Satanist with a weirdly charming yet horrible personality,” You tell him and he laughs, jokingly assuring you that if he manages to ruin his chances next time that he’ll send the next sleazy bassist he sees your way.

“I don’t think I can forgive you.”

“We can start over. I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect. Just please don’t leave me.”

The band had been your kind of escape from everything in your hectic life and you’d stuck with them through everything, which was impressive considering the kinds of enemies the band managed to make thanks to Murdoc’s point blankness when it came to everything.

You’d been there when he’d slammed a door in Jimmy Manson’s face and when Murdoc had not too sneakily made out with 2D’s girlfriend in the bathroom of Kong Studios. Originally you’d met them when they’d needed a babysitter for Noodle because Russel refused to allow Noodle to follow Murdoc and Noodle to a strip joint and he needed to go on a trip to visit someone, who you’d later found out was his girlfriend that he was secretly seeing.

He didn’t want her to be involved with the band since that usually meant unfortunate accidents so Russel had been more than willing to drive out to her instead of her coming over to Kong. You’d needed a job and it seemed easy enough to take care of a eight year old for a few hours for some money that weekend, especially since Russel had asked you so kindly and you probably owed him a few favours yourself.

“Interesting place,” You commented when you’d arrived, looking around at the mansion that was likely to be a tourist destination to look for ghosts considering the shape it was in and the vibe it gave off.

“Not exactly paradise but when you’re playing in a band with Muds, you take what you can get,” Russel had shrugged as you closed the door behind you.

“Fair enough,” You responded, having no idea who he was talking about.

“Who in the hell’s this?” Murdoc has said, throwing an arm with a beer bottle over the couch so that he could turn his head to look at you.

“I’m here to take care of your kid problem and unless you know anyone else who’s dying to take the position, I’d be a little nicer,” You’d responded and Murdoc had chuckled in response.

“I like your style, don’t let old Murdoc over here order you around. Don’t worry I’ll have you begging for that later,” He’d said.

“In your dreams and my nightmares,” You’d replied before turning to Russel.

“Do I get to meet Noodle now? You said you had to get going soon and I don’t want you to have to wait longer than you have to especially with such a mysterious journey awaiting,” You teased.

“You’re right, don’t wanna delay leaving longer than I have to. Trouble is finding where she’s hiding,” Russel replied and you’d began your search for Noodle, meeting the lead singer along the way.

He seemed nice enough, a little spacey but he was definitely interesting and had plenty of weird stories and a pretty pleasant attitude which made you like him almost immediately. You’d asked him about Noodle and he told that she’d ran off with one of keyboards so she probably couldn’t have gone that far unless she dropped it along the way and in that case, could you please bring it back to him because it was one of his favourites.

You eventually found Noodle and ushered Russel out of the house since he was still nervous about leaving her alone, even if you’d be there. You couldn’t really blame him since the guy you’d met who’d been lounging on the couch, Murdoc you recalled, didn’t seem to be much of a parental figure and 2D had the personality of a little kid combined with being extremely spacey.

At first when Russel had left you alone with Noodle, you’d had some difficulty getting along, mostly due to the language barrier but after chasing her around the house for almost two hours she eventually calmed down and you two got along alright. You focused on activities that didn’t need verbal communication like games, video or board, and whatever you could think up.

Eventually she’d passed out on the table when you left to get her some water and food so you’d carried her to her room, which you silently thanked Russel for showing you earlier on when you’d been trying to find her. You’d laid her down on the bed gently and covered her up with a blanket, leaving quietly and shutting the door behind you.

The fun part was trying to find your way around the mansion to somewhere that was potentially a good place to wait for Russel to come home and where Noodle could find you if she woke up.

You found your way back to living room after a lot of trial and error of searching around the house and sat down on the couch with a sigh, tired from a night of not sleeping the day before and taking care of an overexcited eight year old.

You heard rummaging and someone yell from in the kitchen and groaned, forcing yourself to get up and go check if they were okay. You supposed that 2D and Murdoc could be back from their night out since you’d been away from the door with Noodle and the house was like a maze so it wouldn’t be too out of this world to assume that they’d come home while you were hanging out with Noodle.

“Rough night?” You asked, making your way into the kitchen when you saw Murdoc struggling to pop the cap of an alcohol bottle.

“Any night with that blubbering idiot’s a rough one. Be a good boy/girl, love and open this for me, will you?” He asked, handing you the bottle.

“Hmmm, not really sure I should do that. You seem to be a little, what’s the word, addicted to this stuff,” You replied, knowing someone codependent on drugs when you saw them.

“Well if you’re not going to help, go take care of Noodle or whatever Russel decided to pay you for. Noodle would have been fine on her own if you ask me, it’s good for the kid to learn to take care of herself,” He said, trying to grab the bottle from you.

“She’s eight,” You answered.

“Knew how to take care of myself at seven, not all that hard is it? Besides,” He finally succeeds in grabbing the bottle out of your hands, “She’s loads smarter than I was back then.”

“Fair enough but you’re not exactly the pinnacle of glowing health, are you?” You replied.

“Well you’ve got me there, haven’t you?” He chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle that he’d been struggled to open just a minute ago.

It probably would have been smarter to leave him to what you expected he did on a regular basis on his own but leaving someone alone and inebriated in this house rubbed your conscience the wrong way so you walked with him around the house. He refused your request that he should drink some water to make sure his hangover wouldn’t be as bad in the morning saying that he probably deserved the punishment of that anyways.

To be fair, once he’d dranken out of the bottle he seemed to be only slightly tipsy so he was probably a pro when it came to drinking, not that that eased your mind about the situation in the slightest. When he’d drank the entirety was really when he stopped his incessant flirting and bragging and become like any normal person with problems and in desperate need of a friend or someone they could talk to.

You learned a little bit about his rocky past, things he felt guilty about, and his terrifying childhood. You felt bad for him and couldn’t help but try and comfort him which was hard when he was slurring his words and occasionally leaning on you for support.

Eventually, you gave up on walking around the house with him and moved to sit down, Murdoc practically crumbling to the ground. Before you knew it, he was sobbing into your shoulder while you held his hand. Moving so that you could run a hand through his hair with your other hand, doing your best to comfort this mess of a man in front of you.

After some time, he ended up passed with his head in your lap and you absentmindedly played with his hair having a feeling the little bit about his past that he’d told you wasn’t anywhere near everything he’d been through.

It definitely wasn’t the night you’d expected and when Russel eventually found you, he’d apologized that you had to deal with Murdoc when he was drunk and that he’d hoped to be home before 2D and Murdoc were.

He lifted Murdoc easily off your lap and thanked you for taking care of Noodle and actually managing to get her to go to sleep which was apparently a harder task then it seemed.

After that night, a mix of curiosity and the urge to help someone you didn’t even know got the best of you and you’d found yourself offering to take care of Noodle frequently. You ignored Murdoc’s flirting and bragging when you got the chance to talk to him and when that didn’t work you countered with smart responses, enjoying your banter and after a while you’d ended making friends with him.

Friends turned to something more and before you knew it, the two of you had begun dating and gone on a plethora of adventures with one another. It wasn’t exactly a healthy relationship but it was close and he promised you that he was working to getting better and you made yourself believe him. In a way, he was but at the same time he was exactly the same as before. Nights numbing his pain in alcohol and drugs. At least he’d stopped the drugs when you’d threatened to leave if he didn’t start treating himself better.

Which ended up in you here, chatting with Noodle while walking around the set to film the El Manana video. Murdoc whispering to the people filming and whoever was in charge of the shoot, you didn’t really pay too much attention to that type of thing, you really only cared about the band members and didn’t give in to the “rock star” persona they carried with them everywhere that they’d go.

Eventually Noodle shooed you away with a hug telling you that she had to get filmed now. You’d bugged her for a few more minutes and then left to sit in between Murdoc and Russel, watching as the camera’s started rolling and Noodle swung her feet over the ledge of the floating island.

Before you knew it, anarchy had ensued and you found yourself numb, staring at the ground back in your own room weeks later and questioning if you could have fixed what had happened. You knew your boyfriend has issues and was sometimes full of cruelty but nothing of this level. Letting Noodle die? Maybe it was an accident but his shout of, “Keep filming! Make you sure you get all of this mate!” echoed in your head, making you unsure of everything.

He’d assured you that it wasn’t like that and he hadn’t gotten Noodle killed, she was fine, she had a parachute, and they’d talked about this before but it’d sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you.

Suddenly, you shot up from the ground where you’d been sitting with your back against the wall and started packing the things that you absolutely needed into a small suitcase, making your way down the stairs. It wasn’t running away from your problems as it was getting away from what was making you miserable, you told yourself as you ran into Russ and he gave you a head nod, his tired way of saying goodbye with the small amount of energy he had.

You’d forced yourself to give him a broken hearted smile and passed 2D’s room, his sobbing hitting you in your heart and you closed his cracked open door gently so that you wouldn’t bother his mourning process.

It was your luck that you found Murdoc drinking from a bottle, empty glasses surrounding him as he looked up at you with bloodshot eyes not comprehending what was happening at first, the chemicals affecting him slowing his brain’s processing.

“Sorry,” You deadpanned, taking a step to the door before he jumped up, nearly falling in the process.

“Don’t go love, I told you, it was an accident. She’s fine, I’m telling you, Noodle’s grand. She’s out there having the time of her life, she survived! I’m sure of it, have you ever seen her? She’s was a bloody assassin for God’s sake! A little explosion wouldn’t have-” He choked on his words, stopping before trying to regain his composure again.

“We can start over. I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect. Just please don’t leave me,” He finally says, holding onto your shoulders and looking you dead in the eyes.

“I don’t think I can forgive you and, this time, I don’t know if I want to,” You tell him and he lets go of you, knowing anyone caring for him was too good to be true in the first place and that he was always going to ruin it somehow but god, he never imagined it would be because of something like this.

#gorillaz #gorillaz imagine #gorillaz imagines #murdoc x reader #murdoc niccals x reader #murdoc niccals #russel hobbs #gorillaz noodle #noodle #2d #stuart pot

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wr1tersblock42 · 6 years

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If the shoe fits

My week 1 entry for @tpthvegebulmayhem

Keep reading below, or read on FFic or AO3!

The base from the party vibrated through the compound, shaking the dining room chair Vegeta sat on. Much to his disgust, even the scent of cheap cigarettes and sickly-sweet alcohol managed to permeate its way to the eating area, tainting what should have been a delicious late-night snack of stir-fried beef and noodles with a spicy chilli and soy sauce.

With a growl, Vegeta forced himself to swallow his latest ashy mouthful, then stood up, scraping the chair behind him noisily and slamming his hand on the table. Not that anyone was there to hear his temper tantrum. No, the Briefs were all at Capsule Corp's annual winter ball, mingling with those revolting humans they called "employees".

Those humans repulsed Vegeta, every single one of them. The way they preened in front of the doctor and his daughter, practically salivating for a slither of their attention, was all too like the way Frieza's men paraded themselves around the self-proclaimed Lord of the Universe. Still, he could have put up with their presence it if they were on the grounds and not disturbing him. But now they had spoilt the first meal he'd had after eleven hours straight of gruelling training and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do something about it.

Vegeta left his cooling food on the table and strode out of the main house, intent on insisting that they remove everyone from the property before he got rid of them all… permanently.

The air outside was brisk and heavy with frost, as if the clouds above might break with their load of frozen water at any moment. Vegeta shivered, wishing he'd grabbed something warmer to put on over his dark green t-shirt, and despite still being weary from his training, raised his ki slightly to compensate.

As he got closer to the raucous party the base only got stronger, each thud making his stomach turn. The scent grew worse, now mixing with pungent human body odour.

The ball was held in the west wing of the compound, in a large hall that Vegeta had ventured into once when exploring. A staircase led to large wooden double doors that he knew opened into a spacious marble floored room.

He hadn't made it to the base of the steps when they swung open and a woman swept out, silhouetted by the light from the room. Bulma, he realised, recognising her ki a moment before the moonlight hit her face.

A man followed her out, hissing something in a hushed tone, and he grabbed her arm to stop her descending. Vegeta recognised the scar faced warrior's ki immediately, and considered stepping in - not to assist the woman, but because he so enjoyed putting the weakling in his place. A part of him was curious to see how the woman would handle it though, so Vegeta suppressed his own ki and stepped back into the shadow of a tree.

"I'm sorry, B," the weakling said. "I know I shouldn't have come, but-"

"Damn right you shouldn't have come!" Bulma wrenched her arm away. "We broke up months ago Yamcha. You can't keep doing this." She began treading down the staircase in her blue high heels, letting out a sigh of irritation as he followed her.

"B, please," Yamcha said reaching for her again. "Things aren't the same without you."

The woman growled and stepped sideways, then yelped at the sound of a snap. She wobbled on the spot, then pulled her foot out of her shoe. It lay on its side on the step, it's broken heal at an odd angle. "Now look what you've done," she snarled. "Leave please, Yamcha. I told you I wanted space, and I meant it."

The weakling's face fell, but he nodded and made his way up the steps, disappearing into the hall.

As the doors closed once more, Bulma picked up the broken shoe, then threw it towards the garden with a frustrated yell.

Vegeta chuckled as it soared in his direction, and he caught it with one hand. "I thought the party was only food and dancing," he drawled, stepping into the moonlight and heading towards the staircase. "If I'd been informed there was a show as well I may have attended."

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it. "It is a ball, not a party. And what were you doing lurking in the shadows? I made sure you had plenty of food in the fridge."

"Your party was disturbing my meal." Vegeta bared his teeth into an expression that had made many an enemy literally piss themselves.

Bulma Briefs just threw her head back and laughed. "Please. I think you just missed me."

Vegeta scowled at that, then purposefully made sure he didn't stop his advance until he'd reached the same step she stood on to avoid being shorter than her. "I was looking forward to an evening without your constant yapping. But this…" he waved his hand in the direction of the hall, "this horrific noise is an insult to all good music."

The insolent women laughed again. "I didn't know you considered any music good." Her blue eyes sparkled inquisitively. "Now I'm curious. What sort of music does the mighty Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death enjoy?"

Vegeta smirked back at her, leaning in close so the sweet scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils and blocked out all the other disgusting humans. "Anything. But. This."

Bulma cocked her head but didn't reply, eyes narrowing slightly and a half smile quirking her lips. She shivered slightly, and Vegeta realised that the clouds had broken and a flurry was descending. As snowflakes began to drift between them, he noticed how pale she was, her skin almost as white as the snow landing in her hair.

"You're cold," Vegeta said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Bulma replied with a scowl.

Vegeta frowned back, unsure what a 'sherlock' was.

Bulma's frown twisted into something more mischievous. "Are you offering to warm me up?"

Vegeta flushed, suddenly warm despite still having his ki suppressed. He looked her up and down, taking in the tight fitting silver dress that did nothing to protect against the elements. "You claim to be a genius. I'm sure you can sort that out yourself." He grinned suddenly as he noticed the pile of blue curls on her head, decorated with silver flowers on pins. "Or you could let down your hair. It reminds me of a fluffy blue sheep. That will keep you warm."

"A sheep!" Bulma squawked, her cheeks turning red and eyes flashing with fury in a way that made Vegeta's blood heat in response. "I'll have you know that my hair is the height of fashion, not that you'd know anything about that you-"

She stopped talking abruptly, her mouth still open as Vegeta reached out with the hand not still holding her shoe, then slid his fingers into her tamed mane to find one of the pins holding it up. He pulled it out and dropped it on the ground where it fell with a small clatter.

Bulma's breath hitched and she shut her gaping mouth, but she didn't move away, her blue eyes watching him with an unreadable expression. So Vegeta inched closer still, until he was mere millimetres away from her, and continued finding pins in her hair and discarding them on the ground until it tumbled loose around her neck.

He drew his hand away, catching a lock of hair between his fingers. "Warmer?" he asked.

Bulma's tongue darted out as she licked her lips. She shook her head slowly, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Vegeta dropped her hair and trailed one finger along her collarbone, watching the way her skin reacted with goose bumps to her touch. He leaned in closer, raising his ki so it pulsated around them both. "How about now?"

Bulma's skin began to regain its pink hue, but she shook her head with a smirk then leaned into him, looping her arms around his neck. "You'll have to try harder," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

Vegeta met her gaze, searching for any signs of madness in her eyes. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks, and while the last thing he needed was a distraction he could honestly say he'd never met anyone as physically enticing as her who'd also managed to match his verbal wit blow for blow.

Finding nothing but curiosity and the same heat he felt pooling in himself in her gaze, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death, leaned forward pressed his lips to hers carefully, half afraid that a mere kiss from someone as evil as him would make her spontaneously combust. She thankfully remained intact and tightened her grip around his neck, pulling him closer as she opened her mouth a little to deepen the kiss, and he found himself unable to do anything but respond in turn. He kissed her more forcefully and his hand opened of its own volition, dropping the shoe to the ground where it clattered down the steps.

When she pulled back, breathing heavily and cheeks red not from anger but from something else for the first time in his presence, she gave him a smile. It wasn't her usual mocking one, but an invitation. "You know…" she said slowly. "My bedroom has central heating."

Vegeta hesitated only a moment before completely throwing any concerns aside. He pulled her close, then took to the air with her in his arms and flew back to the other side of the compound, leaving the broken blue shoe at the bottom of the steps.

#tpth #tpthmayhem2018 #vegebul #Vegeta x Bulma #bulma #vegeta

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tpthvegebulevents · 6 years

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MAYHEM 2018 - WEEK 1 - [ANON D] “IF THE SHOE FITS”

Title: If the shoe fits

Description: He’s the prince of a fallen planet. She’s the princess of one of the most powerful companies on earth. It’s only natural that the two would be drawn to each other. There’s just one problem - the princess already has a beau.

After training all day, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbringer of death, is furious that his post-training meal is ruined by the humans at the Brief’s annual winter ball. He goes to confront Bulma, but his priorities shift when her scar faced beau shows up and Vegeta realises that she is no longer interested in the weakling.

Is it possible that the prince has a chance with the princesses after all?

Rating: T

Media Type: Word Doc, 1620 words

With a growl, Vegeta forced himself to swallow his latest ashy mouthful, then stood up, scraping the chair behind him noisily and slamming his hand on the table. Not that anyone was there to hear his temper tantrum. No, the Briefs were all at Capsule Corp’s annual winter ball, mingling with those revolting humans they called “employees”.

Those humans repulsed Vegeta, every single one of them. The way they preened in front of the doctor and his daughter, practically salivating for a slither of their attention, was all too like the way Frieza’s men paraded themselves around the self-proclaimed Lord of the Universe. Still, he could have put up with their presence it if they were on the grounds and not disturbing him. But now they had spoilt the first meal he’d had after eleven hours straight of gruelling training and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do something about it.

Vegeta left his cooling food on the table and strode out of the main house, intent on insisting that they remove everyone from the property before he got rid of them all… permanently.

The air outside was brisk and heavy with frost, as if the clouds above might break with their load of frozen water at any moment. Vegeta shivered, wishing he’d grabbed something warmer to put on over his dark green t-shirt, and despite still being weary from his training, raised his ki slightly to compensate.

As he got closer to the raucous party the base only got stronger, each thud making his stomach turn. The scent grew worse, now mixing with pungent human body odour.

He hadn’t made it to the base of the steps when they swung open and a woman swept out, silhouetted by the light from the room. Bulma, he realised, recognising her ki a moment before the moonlight hit her face.

A man followed her out, hissing something in a hushed tone, and he grabbed her arm to stop her descending. Vegeta recognised the scar faced warrior’s ki immediately, and considered stepping in - not to assist the woman, but because he so enjoyed putting the weakling in his place. A part of him was curious to see how the woman would handle it though, so Vegeta suppressed his own ki and stepped back into the shadow of a tree.

“I’m sorry, B,” the weakling said. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but-”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have come!” Bulma wrenched her arm away. “We broke up months ago Yamcha. You can’t keep doing this.” She began treading down the staircase in her blue high heels, letting out a sigh of irritation as he followed her.

“B, please,” Yamcha said reaching for her again. “Things aren’t the same without you.”

The woman growled and stepped sideways, then yelped at the sound of a snap. She wobbled on the spot, then pulled her foot out of her shoe. It lay on its side on the step, it’s broken heal at an odd angle. “Now look what you’ve done,” she snarled. “Leave please, Yamcha. I told you I wanted space, and I meant it.”

The weakling’s face fell, but he nodded and made his way up the steps, disappearing into the hall.

As the doors closed once more, Bulma picked up the broken shoe, then threw it towards the garden with a frustrated yell.

Vegeta chuckled as it soared in his direction, and he caught it with one hand. “I thought the party was only food and dancing,” he drawled, stepping into the moonlight and heading towards the staircase. “If I’d been informed there was a show as well I may have attended.”

Bulma’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it. “It is a ball, not a party. And what were you doing lurking in the shadows? I made sure you had plenty of food in the fridge.”

“Your party was disturbing my meal.” Vegeta bared his teeth into an expression that had made many an enemy literally piss themselves.

Bulma Briefs just threw her head back and laughed. “Please. I think you just missed me.”

Vegeta scowled at that, then purposefully made sure he didn’t stop his advance until he’d reached the same step she stood on to avoid being shorter than her. “I was looking forward to an evening without your constant yapping. But this…” he waved his hand in the direction of the hall, “this horrific noise is an insult to all good music.”

The insolent women laughed again. “I didn’t know you considered any music good.” Her blue eyes sparkled inquisitively. “Now I’m curious. What sort of music does the mighty Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death enjoy?”

Vegeta smirked back at her, leaning in close so the sweet scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils and blocked out all the other disgusting humans. “Anything. But. This.”

Bulma cocked her head but didn’t reply, eyes narrowing slightly and a half smile quirking her lips. She shivered slightly, and Vegeta realised that the clouds had broken and a flurry was descending. As snowflakes began to drift between them, he noticed how pale she was, her skin almost as white as the snow landing in her hair.

“You’re cold,” Vegeta said.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bulma replied with a scowl.

Vegeta frowned back, unsure what a ‘sherlock’ was.

Bulma’s frown twisted into something more mischievous. “Are you offering to warm me up?”

Vegeta flushed, suddenly warm despite still having his ki suppressed. He looked her up and down, taking in the tight-fitting silver dress that did nothing to protect against the elements. “You claim to be a genius. I’m sure you can sort that out yourself.” He grinned suddenly as he noticed the pile of blue curls on her head, decorated with silver flowers on pins. “Or you could let down your hair. It looks like a fluffy blue sheep. That will keep you warm.”

“A sheep!” Bulma squawked, her cheeks turning red and eyes flashing with fury in a way that made Vegeta’s blood heat in response. “I’ll have you know that my hair is the height of fashion, not that you’d know anything about that you-”

Bulma’s breath hitched and she shut her gaping mouth, but she didn’t move away, her blue eyes watching him with an unreadable expression. So Vegeta inched closer still, until he was mere millimetres away from her, and continued finding pins in her hair and discarding them on the ground until it tumbled loose around her neck.

He drew his hand away, catching a lock of hair between his fingers. “Warmer?” he asked huskily.

Bulma’s tongue darted out as she licked her lips. She shook her head slowly, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Bulma’s skin began to regain its pink hue, but she shook her head with a smirk then leaned into him, looping her arms around his neck. “You’ll have to try harder,” she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

Vegeta met her gaze, searching for any signs of madness in her eyes. They’d been dancing around each other for weeks and while the last thing he needed was a distraction he couldn’t honestly say he’d never met anyone as physically enticing as her who’d also managed to match his verbal wit blow for blow.

Finding nothing but curiosity and the same heat he felt pooling in himself, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death, leaned forward kissed the Princess of Capsule Corporation.

He pressed his lips to hers carefully, half afraid that a mere kiss from someone as evil as him would make her spontaneously combust. She thankfully remained intact and tightened her grip around his neck, pulling him closer as she opened her mouth a little to deepen the kiss, and he found himself unable to do anything but respond in turn. He kissed her more forcefully and his hand opened of its own volition, dropping the shoe to the ground where it clattered down the steps.

When she pulled back, breathing heavily and cheeks red not from anger but from something else for the first time in his presence, she gave him a smile. It wasn’t her usual mocking one, but an invitation. “You know…” she said slowly. “My bedroom has central heating.”

#tpthvegebulmayhem2018 #tpth #week1mayhem2018 #mayhem #fanfiction #ratedT #anon d #romance #fluff #drama #one-shot

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lovemychinchilla · 3 years

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Do You Need to Tame Your Chinchilla?

Chinchillas are great pets, but they aren't known for extraordinary intelligence or cool tricks. So, can they be tamed or trained at all?

Do you need to tame a chinchilla? You can make a chinchilla trust you, stop it from biting, train it to do tricks, and train it to use a litter box. But you can't train it to free roam around the house, as this wouldn't be safe. Taming or training isn't strictly necessary, but will make you and your pet happier.

The guide below first looks at whether you need to tame a chinchilla, and what exactly that might mean (what is taming—house training, domesticating, or what?) We'll then look at what you have to do step by step to tame a chinchilla.

Do You Need to Tame a Chinchilla?

There are several definitions of taming. You may think that to 'tame' your chinchilla means to stop it being so aggressive; or, you might think it means training it to do all sorts of tricks. Or, you might think it means domesticating the chinchilla e.g. by litter training it.

Well, chinchillas can be trained to do many different things, and all three of these things are possible.

What you don't need to do is in any way 'tame' a 'wild' chinchilla. The chinchilla you're getting wasn't caught in the wild. All chinchillas in the pet trade were bred from stock that was trapped around a hundred years ago.

Are Chinchillas Aggressive?

This is a common misconception new owners make. They try to handle their pets, but their pets bite back, and get written off as 'aggressive'. That's not what's really happening.

Chinchillas have very placid, gentle natures. They're prey animals in the wild, but even beyond that, they're sweet animals that will tolerate a lot before getting mad. If your chinchilla bit you, that's because it felt defensive, not aggressive. There are many reasons your chinchilla might feel defensive:

You're approaching it when it's in the corner of its cage

You're handling it too frequently

You're accidentally or purposefully too loud or too energetic

When chinchillas bite, it's because they feel threatened. But by changing your behavior, and by teaching your chinchilla to trust you, you can stop it biting and being aggressive.

Can You Train a Chinchilla to Do Tricks?

Chinchillas can learn basic tricks and commands, so long as you know how to train them. The trick to teaching tricks is to use treats, and to be persistent. Owners report that their chinchillas can learn:

Come on command

Get back in the cage on command

Sit, roll onto their backs or beg

Not all chins take equally well to learning tricks. But you can at least try.

Can You Let a Chinchilla Free Roam (Domesticated)?

While living outside of a cage is objectively better than living inside one, in the context of owning a chinchilla, things aren't so clear cut. That's because your chinchilla's health and welfare could be compromised by free roaming.

That doesn't stop many owners keeping their chinchillas this way. But there are several issues with this approach. First is that your chinchilla will be much more likely to escape, and catching an escaped chinchilla isn't always easy. If your chin gets outside, it's at the mercy of the elements: summer heat, rain and snow, and predators too.

Your chinchilla is also at risk at home. You could accidentally stand on it or sit on it, or it could get somewhere it shouldn't, like the crawl space. So, while we objectively agree that keeping animals free is better than in cages, if you're going to have a pet chinchilla then it's the only way.

Can You Litter Train a Chinchilla?

Litter training a chinchilla is surprisingly easy. That's because most chinchillas pick a corner to urinate in, and only urinate there. They learned to do this in the wild, so that they wouldn't get their fur wet when they're hiding in burrows or rock crevices.

As such, all you have to do to litter train your chinchilla is put a litter tray in the corner of its cage. This should be a litter tray that's suitable for a chinchilla cage, of course—it shouldn't be the size of one intended for other pets, as this would be far too big for a chin cage.

To be clear, what you can't do is litter train a chinchilla so that it can free roam around the house.

How to Tame a Chinchilla

This section will look at every aspect of 'taming' a chinchilla. It assumes that you are starting from a blank slate, with a chinchilla that you've only just bought. It will cover the very beginning, which is getting your chinchilla to trust you, progressing towards understanding its body language and handling it. Then, we will move on to addressing more 'advanced' forms of taming, like training your chinchilla with treats.

1) Spend Time Near Your Chinchilla's Cage

Before you can handle your chinchilla, you have to get it used to you. Imagine if you lived with a sixty foot tall mythical beast: would you want it to pick you up before it even said hello? Or would you want to get to know it first, understand its intentions (or at least that its intentions aren't to eat you), and spend time with it on your own terms?

As such, spend time near your chinchilla's cage first without doing or saying a thing. The idea is to get your pet used to your basic presence. This can take a few days before your chinchila is comfortable sitting out in the open (within its cage) with you nearby.

Once your chin recognizes you're there, but doesn't get frightened, you can progress to talking to it in a calm and gentle manner. Chinchillas navigate the world with their hearing, which is better than their sight. This gets your pet used to another aspect of you.

You can then attempt to handle your chinchilla. Let it out for play time and put your hands on the ground next to it. To entice it, place a treat in your open palm. Once your chin is comfortable sitting on your hand, you can lift it and handle it—but be gentle, as all chinchillas are delicate.

2) Treat Your Chinchilla with Kindness

Your chinchilla is not an object. It's not a vegetable or a mineral, it's a living animal, and living animals have thoughts and feelings. Those feelings may not be as complex or as clearly expressed as ours, but chinchillas can feel frightened or threatened. They can also enjoy spending time around you, if you're kind.

Part of this is learning to respect your chinchilla's boundaries. If your chinchilla clearly doesn't want you to handle it, you must respect that. Doing so would only make it dislike you, if not bite you.

To make this easier, you should learn more about a chinchilla's body language. Behaviors like moving the ears or closing the eyes can indicate different things. So, for example:

Chinchillas stand up when they feel threatened. This behavior makes the chinchilla look bigger, to scare off other chins or predators.

Chinchillas hold their ears back when they're sleepy. This is probably because chinchillas alternate between sleepig and foraging; foraging chinchillas listen out for threats, while sleeping chinchillas need their rest.

Chinchillas make barking noises when they're scared. These barks are meant to alert other chinchillas to the presence of danger, but even chinchillas living on their own bark if they're afraid.

If your chin does want to spend time with you, it will popcorn when it sees you. That means jumping up and down and running around excitedly. It will also show, in the most basic way, that it wants to come towards you rather than hide from you.

3) Don't Hit or Scold Your Chinchilla

This is a similar point to the previous one, but it's worth its own section.

Training or taming is equal parts encouraging good behaviors and discouraging bad behaviors. You can encourage good behaviors, as we'll get to in a moment, by using treats. And most people discourage bad behaviors through hitting, blowing in the chinchilla's face, making a loud noise, or something similar. This isn't just pointless, it's actively bad. It's easiest to learn why from an example.

Say your chinchilla likes to bite. It's skittish, it's nervous, and it doesn't like handling. Any time you pick it up, it bites you. Some owners think that the best way to discourage this is to blow in the chinchilla's face.

It always pays dividends to put yourself in your chinchilla's shoes. What do you think your chinchilla thinks when this happens? Whether it works or not, this makes your chinchilla nervous. It knows that when it's picked up, it's hit, hurt or 'attacked' somehow. In that sense, it makes your chin more nervous and more likely to bite the next time you pick it up.

Moreover, do you think chinchillas are advanced enough to directly understand cause and effect? Very few animals, even more complex animals, can. So if scolding is effective, it only becomes effective because your chinchilla is afraid of you. That's no way to keep a pet.

4) Train it With Treats

If you want to train your chinchilla to do anything, easily the best way is to use treats.

Take training your chinchilla to come to you, for example. When you're first getting it used to you, you can entice it closer with treats. It eventually learns that you can be trusted, treat or no, but snacks give you an initial 'in' with your pet. Other brief examples include:

Holding the treat above your chinchilla's head. This will make the chinchilla move back onto its hind legs and reach up, as if it's begging.

Holding the treat in front of your chinchilla's face and lowering it. This will make the chinchilla lower itself to the ground, as if it's lying down.

Holding the treat above something you want your chinchilla to stand on, or holding it somewhere you want your pet to go. This could get your chinchilla back into its cage.

If you train your chinchilla this way, it won't lie down/beg when you say a certain word. But it can learn to make the movement even in the absence of the treat, just by you holding your fingers and moving your hand a certain way.

Below, you can find our chinchilla quiz, new posts for further reading, and a signup for our Chinchilla Newsletter!

#chinchillas #chinchillabehavior

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bubble-tea-bunny · 7 years

Text

infinity train

[steve trevor x reader]

author’s note: i’ve been trying to play around w/ more abstract writing lately, and i’m not gonna lie, this is probably the most abstract thing i’ve ever written, to the point i don’t even know what to make of this anymore. i can’t write lolol what is writing

word count: 1,385

Steve doesn’t remember boarding.

He speculates that maybe he’d been so tired he fell asleep as he plopped down, but… he can’t remember anything other than this train. The cushioned seats are soft and crimson, the wood panelling dark, the carpet immaculate and muffling the footsteps of those in the car with him. There’s a man in the corner booth reading a newspaper, spectacles sitting precariously on the bridge of his nose, looking as though they’ll slide off any second now; a woman in another booth powders her face, using her compact mirror to help guide herself as she does. Much like these two, everyone else in the car keeps to their own devices. Steve can hear two people conversing at the back but he can’t really make anything out, and other than that the car is quiet.

He turns to look out the window but can only see white, a flurry of snow blowing by harshly and continuously. He can’t see anything, and one might swear the train isn’t actually moving, being unable to see trees flying past in a blur, or birds, or mountains, even, the would indicate the contrary. But the roar and screech of the wheels sliding along the tracks is evidence that they are, in fact, moving.

To where?

Steve can’t seem to find an answer for this question, and he’s not sure whether or not he should be worried that he doesn’t panic at that realization. In fact, he feels a sense of calm, feels that although he doesn’t remember getting on nor does he remember where this train is going, he is exactly where he is meant to be.

As he turns away from the window, he notices in the seat next to him a suitcase. His brows furrow. He knows it’s his, but as for its contents… he can’t quite recall. That’s blurry too. He picks it up and sets it on the table in front of him, smoothing a hand over its surface. It seems to pulse—pulse with life beneath his palm, utterly vibrant and spirited, and he narrows his eyes. No words form in his mind that remind him of what’s inside, only a feeling of familiarity, a warmth in his chest. Whatever is in here, it’s his to keep. To keep safe. It belongs to him, and knowing that is enough.

Steve brings his hands up to the clasps of the suitcase, prepared to pop them open to gaze inside, when the door to the train car slides open, the conductor striding in. It’s an older man, with wrinkled skin and a greying beard. You follow close behind him, hair bouncing with each hurried step and a look of distress in your [eye color] eyes.

“Please, surely you know where it is!” you plead. All the occupants in the car turn to you upon this exclamation. They’re quiet as they watch you, as is Steve.

The conductor pauses and turns to you, sighs pitifully. “I’m sorry, Miss, but if it wasn’t with you when you boarded, it won’t be anywhere on this train.”

“I’ve been looking all over. You really haven’t seen it?”

“I’m afraid not.” The conductor shrugs, as if to say there’s nothing else I can tell you or do.

It’s your turn to sigh, but it’s rife with frustration. By this point all the other travelers here have gone back to their business, whatever it might be—reading the newspaper, doing a crossword, talking with their companion. But Steve doesn’t look away. He wonders what you’re looking for, and feels bad that you can’t find whatever it is.

The conductor walks down the aisle quickly, purposefully, only to walk out through the door in the back, presumably to deal with business somewhere farther in the train. That leaves you at the front, sweeping your hair away from your face, brows furrowed as you try to remember where you’d placed, well, your belongings, Steve supposes. What else could you so vehemently be searching for?

Your eyes had been concentrated on the wall as you thought, but now as you turn to survey the rest of the car, Steve averts his gaze before you see him staring. You take a deep breath, chest puffing out with the motion, and amble down the aisle at a much slower pace than the conductor had. Steve pretends he’s not paying attention to your every move by looking out the window, staring out at nothing. He’s surprised when you stop before him.

“Do you mind if I sat here?” you ask quietly, motioning to the seat across from him. He shakes his head, motions for you to go ahead, and so you sit. You smile in thanks before also gazing outside. Steve can see the way your lips are set in a small, subtle frown.

“Lose something?” he inquires, blue eyes sympathetic.

You turn to him and smile slightly, as if trying to hide the fact you’d been frowning. “I did.”

“It sounded important.”

“It was.” You sigh. “But like the conductor said, if it’s not here, it’s not here.” You shrug helplessly.

“I’m sorry.” As soon as Steve says this, he feels drawn to the suitcase before him. His hand no longer rests on it, but he swears he can hear that pulse, steady and deep, from inside it. Suddenly and without warning, as if prompted by your presence across from him, he remembers exactly what’s in this case. He glances at you, and he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

You seem to hear the pulsing too. You look down at the suitcase and tilt your head, look of confusion written on your face. “You’re carrying something important.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question.

Steve nods slowly. “I am.”

“Do you mind if I ask what it is?”

Steve’s about to tell you he can’t quite describe to you what’s in it. That perhaps it would be better to show you. That showing you is the right choice anyway, for words won’t suffice. He slides the suitcase across the table. “Better yet: you can look.”

You smile a little more brightly this time as you twist the suitcase so the clasps face you. Your fingers are poised on the metal clasps which pop open easily. You open the case and the pulsing is clearer. Steve can only see your eyes when the lid is lifted but they light up in recognition, and the warmth stirring in his chest seems to burst all at once, because everything makes sense now. It clicks. For you and him.

“This is…” you trail off.

“It is.” Steve nods.

It’s what you’ve been looking for.

“I’ve… been holding onto it for a while now,” Steve explains.

Quietly you close the suitcase, and the pulsing is once again muffled. You don’t feel so empty any longer. The metal clasps snap shut. What’s in here had been yours, at one point in time. Apparently it had transferred hands without you ever realizing it. But the man before you has eyes filled with care and love and you know with confidence that he is the right one to whose care the contents of this suitcase have been entrusted. There had been no reason for you to be worried.

“Well… please continue to keep it safe.” You slide the suitcase back across the table.

“Of course.” A moment of silence, and then: “I’m Steve.”

You smile. “[Name].”

The name is achingly familiar. “I know.”

All of time seems to flash behind your eyes as he looks at you. He swears that he knows you. It manifests itself in the love that floods his veins despite not quite being able to recall from where or how he knows you. Just that he always had. Multiple lifetimes’ worth of affection flitter between the two of you, like currents of invisible lightning. And all feels right. This is exactly where the two of you are meant to be.

Steve finds comfort in resting his hand on the case again, feeling the consistent, quiet beating. He’s held onto this suitcase for what—100, 1,000, 10,000 years? He can’t remember. But as this train continues along on never-ending tracks, to no destination except the rest of eternity, well, what’s 10,000 more?

#wonder woman #wonder woman imagine #steve trevor #steve trevor imagine #steve trevor x reader #DC comics #dc comics imagine #chris pine #chris pine imagine #chris pine x reader #bubble-tea-bunny

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