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eclectic-feathers · 3 years ago

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Hello! Here’s my submission for @50yearsofqueen’s event. Posted nearing midnight for the drama. It’s a Doctor Who crossover that doesn’t really have much to do with the franchise other than in concept. It’s a very complex show, but canon’s already constantly challenged so I might as well challenge it even more. Thanks to my partner @bananavarina who made the art for this chapter and other chapters to come. Special thanks to @anne-white-star for helping me with the concept. Hope y’all enjoy!

———————————————

Humans succumb rather easily to trickery. After all, an unfortunate amount of them lead such jaded lives to the point they gradually lose the ability of thinking outside the box. This particular box is all these humans have ever known, yet, still, it serves as a case study in the development of claustrophobia. It’s stuck moving at a steady pace in a singular direction: forward. No turning back, no jumping ahead. Worst of all, the box never takes you anywhere. You need gasoline for that and gasoline, as you may well know, is expensive.

And if you don’t prefer a cheaper alternative for transportation, you’re either very well off or there’s something terribly wrong with you.

Thus, when presented with a different box, a time-traveling, space-hopping one which happens to accommodate much bigger dimensions on the inside, humans are easily fooled into stepping right in, putting aside all reasonable caution.

It’s for this reason that The Doctor recruits folks aboard his TARDIS with relative ease. It’s an art form he has nearly mastered, effectively trapping starry-eyed wanderers under the guise of adventure into a lifetime’s worth of the terror they least expect upon boarding. This terror had plagued dozens of Earthlings whose narrow understanding of space and time rendered them rather clueless as to how they might defeat it. This entity was, as brave Jamie McCrimmon ever so rudely proclaimed, a threat less comprehensible than Cybermen. This threat was unwanted exposition.

(Which is more commonly referred to as rambling.)

Countless humans have fondly (and exasperatedly, as certified human, Tegan Jovanka may attest) listened to The Doctor ramble for hours on end. It was a familiar dynamic, one The Doctor found comfort in. Perhaps, most of his companions never truly understood what he would be rambling on about, but it was, and still is, part of their exchange. The Doctor finds joy in showing such excitement, such beauty and wonder, to his friends. In return, his friends put the fun in his travels and gawk, accordingly, to all that they witness.

The Doctor always expected his companions to marvel in the sights and let him ramble on and on from topic to topic. What he didn’t expect was for them to stop marveling and start rambling back.

“Your mama loved scarves. They were all she had managed to pack from home when she was taken here.”

Brian slipped on his rubber footwear, his feet secured by tiny pieces of braided cloth cut from a scarf threaded through unevenly punctured holes. Haru had called them flip flops although he wasn’t quite sure whether it was a name he’d invented to cheer him up when he was little (like when he used to call lightbulbs fireflies) or if it happened to be the effect of inherent human silliness, thus making it the correct term.

“This is your papa’s favorite pair of pants. Your mama doodled stars and planets on it for his birthday. He loved them as he loved her...you love them too, don’t you?”

He pulled the pants up and fastened it with a belt. It was rather long and baggy for a ten-year-old. Still, Brian tried to make it work, bunching up the cloth and standing as tall as he could. He wondered if his father was out there, unaware of the existence of a son, finally home among the stars drawn daintily across his trousers.

“We all had to wear long sleeved shirts back in the metropolis. I wore green. He wore white.”

Brian put one on accordingly. The sleeves flopped and swallowed his arms as the shirt engulfed his skinny frame.

“Your mama had sewn him a vest. He wasn’t particularly fond of vests but he was very fond of your mama.”

He put on the black vest

Little Brian stared at the mirror in front of him, unsure what to feel. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, yet he wasn’t quite sure if it were right to mourn for something he’d never known.

“Bri?”

Brian looked up to find Haru standing at the doorway. His face was blank, yet a storm seemed to brew in his eyes. Perhaps, he was upset that the child he’d loved and raised as if he were his own was wearing the painful reminder of his friends long gone. Or, perhaps, he was disheartened that said child wasn’t satisfied enough with his care to stop yearning for his parents’ presence. Perhaps, he was neither of those. Perhaps, he was angry.

Brian hoped he was angry.

A moment of silence passed between them. Then another. Brian had read about moments like this in fictional Earthling books. He was steeling himself for those angry outbursts he always read about. Haru rarely got upset, yet Ian had never messed up this terribly before. So he braced himself…

Only to be engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

Brian quickly hugged Haru back as the latter trembled. He felt the pitter patter of tears falling on his shoulder and for the first time in his life, he felt the crushing weight of loss.

“You deserve to know your father,” Haru croaked as he regained his composure. Brian merely buried his face in his shoulder as he finally let his own tears flow.

“I already do, Dad.”

—————————-

“Doctor, your library’s collection of medical books is incomplete,” proclaimed Brian, a young man clad in white, signifying his status as an esteemed astronaut of Planet Rhye.

The Doctor gasped theatrically, startling Deacy, a man from 21st century Leicester, younger and less knowledgeable than Brian, yet seemingly much wiser. He’d been tinkering with a malfunctioning lever for about an hour now.

The Doctor merely smiled in apology to which Deacy responded with a fond shake of his head.

“Oh the TARDIS hasn’t been fixed yet?,” Brian inquired as he sank into a lavish red sofa situated in the console room.

“Not to my knowledge, no,” Deacy replied.

The Doctor laughed.

“Cheeky now, aren’t we?”

“Well, I deserve to be cheeky. After all it wasn’t me who busted the wiring in the butterfly room for a photoshoot.”

The Doctor scoffed as Brian let out a snort of his own.

“I’ll have you know, darling, that we’re perfectly safe and untarnished. I managed to avert the crisis by rearranging the wires before anyone could get hurt.”

“Did you, now?,” Deacy asked, his confusion evident.

“Of course I did!”

“Then how come the wires here are all mismatched and tangled up?”

A sudden silence swept across the room.

“Oh! You managed to rearrange them well enough for the TARDIS not to combust but they still weren’t in the correct order because based on the times we were on Itakam and the time we went to Roman occupied Greece, you’re no good at technical repairs,” Brian piped up, rather satisfied with himself. Deacy chuckled as The Doctor gaped at his lack of tact.

“Brian...do tell me about the library,” The Doctor muttered, as Deacy amusedly returned to his work.

“I’ve searched high and low in every single shelf of your library and found references to every single medical lung condition I’ve read of back home. They were all there...except for one.”

“Well, that’s silly, darling! The book dealer had been very sincere. I couldn’t have been tricked!”

“Perhaps, you’d simply been gullible?,” Roger suggested as he entered the room. He was exceptionally beautiful with no trace of wrinkles, pores, or even a philtrum. His skin was smooth as silk save for a pair of gills which rested on either side of his neck. He sat next to Brian and plopped his feet on the former’s lap. It was no secret that this Doctor, unlike the last two of his incarnations, was reserved around strangers. That being said, soaked up every last trace of physical affection from his friends like a sponge. Yet, even he chuckled at the display of such disregard for human manners.

Brian was human. However he’d been raised far from Earth, isolated from society with no one but Dad for company. Etiquette was unimportant in his little world and Dad hadn’t known enough about human custom to teach him anything of substance. Brian hadn’t known touch for years and he embraced, quite literally, its sudden return in the form of team cuddles. It seems rather funny, doesn’t it? That there are things you never realize you lost until you find it and cherish it once more? Ian seemed to believe so.

Roger was a fish.

“That’s impossible, for how all that pretentiousness my sixth face had, he simply wasn’t one to be tricked.”

“I beg to differ,” Roger countered. “I’ve met him. You’re absolutely rubbish at spaceship maintenance, I give you that. But you’re actually quite clever...very creative even. He was witty and creative too, but he wasn’t clever. He was mostly a bumbling fool.”

The Doctor didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

“What medical condition were you looking for anyway?,” Deacy inquired as he rolled up the sleeves of his turtleneck and took off his spliced button up.

“Hanahaki disease.”

At this, Roger quickly turned away from Brian, trying to hold in his laughter. The Doctor buried his smiling face in Deacy’s shoulder as the latter forcibly schooled his expression into one of nonchalance. He was well aware that Hanahaki disease was fictional, after all, his girlfriend, Ronnie used to write fiction in her spare time and he’d be the beta reader. He nodded politely, as Brian happily hummed a little tune, oblivious to his friends’ antics.

You know you’ve got a terrible grasp on human custom when even a fish is more culturally aware than you.

“Well, either way,” Brian piped up, still blissfully unaware, “your collection’s incomplete. Maybe we should go look for the missing volume after Deacy repairs the console?”

“I reckon we need another adventure,” Roger agreed as he set his legs on the floor and yanked The Doctor towards the couch. Brian scooted closer, letting his head rest on Roger’s shoulder as The Doctor climbed in and rested his upper body on his companions’ laps.

“I’m afraid we’ll be stranded here for a little while,” Deacy remarked.

“Then what are you waiting for?,” Brian asked as he beckoned Deacy over to the couch. The latter smiled as he joined in what he believed to be the best part of traveling with The Doctor: cuddle piles.

—————————————-

“Are we gonna tell him…?”

“No!”

“How dare you?! I invited you onboard expecting a starry-eyed audience to gawk at everything I do but instead I got someone who seems to know my TARDIS better than me!”

“There’s no point in complaining about free maintenance.”

“You’re one to talk, fishman. There’s no point in bringing you along with me to witness the universe if you’ve already seen it all!”

“Yet you still keep us around.”

“...I suppose I do. Now wipe those smug looks off your faces. We’re going to 2012. Just to appease him.”

#queen #50yearsofqueen #doctor who #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon #Freddie Mercury

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biohazard-inevitable · 4 years ago

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Red Exit

A Roadrat fanfic + D.Va that was inspured by the two Junkers and a D.VA short as well as a rp I did with @emile-hides and @aripan12 !The comic link can be found on Emile’s site along with his fanfic with a similar concept that also ispired this fic! I kind of left the ending a bit ambiguous and mainly focused in on the relationship Junkrat and Roadhog had. Hope you enjoy!

“Roadie! Oi! Roadie!” Junkrat’s nasally voice broke out into Roadhog’s ear as he slept in. Roadhog gruffed out a huff as he sat up and glared down at his small companion.

“What?” He asked, standing up a little.

“Listen do ya know where tha’ bloody tape went? I need it for a project.” Junkrat said, then proceeded to follow Roadhog as he silently walked over to a stash of junk and pulled out a fat roll of duct tape from it, throwing it unceremoniously at Junkrat. Junkrat caught it with a little bit of a fumble as he giggled a bit. “Thanks mate!”

Roadhog watched as his companion scuttled back outside to his workshop like the rat he was. He shrugged and sighed a bit as he prepared lunch for Jamison, knowing the idiot probably hadn’t bothered to feed himself. Soon after making a sandwich for the bastard, Roadhog lumbered out to the workshop where he found Junkrat fully hyper focused on whatever the fuck he was building.

“Rat.” He growled out, snapping the rodent of a man out of his trance as he threw the sandwhich onto the table. “Eat.”

“Ah cheers mate.” Junkrat said, grabbing the sandwich and swiftly taking a bite out of it. “Nearly forgot!” A titteribg laugh followed this comment and Roadhog rolled his eyes underneath his mask. Of course he forgot.

“I’m goin into town.” Roadhog said as he turned and began walking out of the workshop.

“Oh ye are? Lemme come with!” Junkrat said, beginning to trail behind his bodyguard. “I need some things, scrap mostly.” Junkrat then let out a squeak as he was grabbed by his tire and promptly shoved into a sitting position on his couch.

“Stay.” Roadhog snarled from underneath his mask before finally making his leave. Junkrat crossed his arms and pouted.

“Big lug cant tell me what ta do.” He mumbled go himself. Junkrat wasn’t going to disobey his bodyguard however, he knew he’d never hear the end of it from the guy if he did so he continued to work on his project.

As Roadhog approached the gates to Junkertown, a rather interesting sight caught his eye. A girl was sat outside the city of waste, pounding as hard as she could on the rusty metal doors.

“Please! Please let me in! I need help!” The girl wailed out pathetically.

She was an interesting one that was for sure. Decked out in a pink and blue outfit and with shiny hair that must have been freshly washed, she looked out of place here in the wasteland. Not that Roadhog could give to shits anyways, she was in the way. Swiftly and with a strong wrist-flicking movement, Roadhog’s hook flug out and wrapped harshly against the girl’s waist, pulling her in closer.

“Get outta the way.” Roadhog snarled out as he walked past her and up to the gates.

“Sir please!” The girl said boldly. “Just hear me out, okay?”

Roadhog turned to her and huffed, crossing his arms impatiently as he decided to hear her out.

“My name is Hana Song! I was a MEKA pilot over in South Korea. I was kidnapped and abandoned here and I need help finding a way home!” She was determined, that was for sure, but she was also rather naive to think a Junker would help her.

“What makes you think I’d help you?” Roadhog questioned, looking the skinny girl up and down.

“You Junkers like money, right? W-well back home I’ve got lots of it!” Hana said, the confidence in her voice slipping. Roadhog sighed and figured supplies could wait. They needed a boat.

“Follow me.” Roadhog huffed out as he began the short trek back to the shack.

As they approached the shack, Roadhog knocked on the side of the hole that was one of three entrances to Junkrat’s workshop.

“Well yer back early.” Junkrat said, getting up and hobbling over to Roadhog. “Wait a minute, who’s the random sheila? Don’t tell me yer bringin brothel girls back ta our place!”

“Shut up.” Roadhog snarled. “This is Hana. We’re taking her back to Korea.”

“Kor ee ha?” Junkrat voiced out, saying it wrong several times. “Where’s that? Is it near Sydney or that near wherever Brisbane is?”

“Shut it.” Roadhog snarled out a second time. “I have a buddy that owes me a solid. He can get us a boat and then we can-“ Roadhog could barely say anything else as he was immediately cut off by Junkrat.

“Wait wait wait, a boat? Alright first off, since when do you have a buddy that owes ye a solid? Secondly, are we really jus up an leavin? What about our revenge on the queen? What about our agreement? We just gonna lug that with us?” Although Junkrat brought up some valid points, Roadhog could care less.

“Shut up or I’ll leave you here alone.” Roadhog hissed out. An empty threat, but definitely one that Junkrat wouldn’t try to test. At least, that’s what Roadhog hoped.

“Foine then.” Junkrat said, standing up straight to his full height. “You go getcher boat and I’ll just sit around then. Keep yer secrets an all that. Not like I get any say in the matter anyways!”

God he was such a child sometimes, but Junkrat’s tone felt different. There was a slight wobble to it, almost like the pathetic man was on the verge of tears. Roadhog tried to ignore it as he left.

“Watch the kid.” He huffed out briefly before he left back in the direction of Junkertown.

After Roadhog returned, they began formulating a proper plan and aranged their agreements with Hana regarding the money.

“This better be some good fuckin loot if we’re goin all this way outta our way fer ya.” Junkrat said sternly, eyeing Hana with suspicion as he leaned forward a bit. “And if you try ta juke us-“

“Rat that’s enough.” Roadhog growled, watching as the pyromaniac sank down into a slump on his seat. “The boat will be ready by early morning, before dawn. So let’s get some rest before we head out.”

The group nodded in agreement before setting to their spots to rest, Hana taking the upstairs couch and Junkrat going out to his workshop couch to rest as well. Roadhog did his best to try and sleep, but to no abail. Finally, he gave up in the middle of the night, opting to go outside to the cliff and gaze off of it and into the endless expanse of the wasteland.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh Roadie?” Junkrat’s voice caught Roadhog off guard as the scrawny man came over beside him. “Mind if I join ya for a tick?”

Roadhog merely huffed in a way that said, “do whatever you’d like” and Junkrat promptly sat down beside him. For once, the two Junkers sat together in silence before Roadhog finally broke the silence.

“It’s my fault.”

“Huh? Whatcha mean Roadie?” Junkrat’s amber eyes looked up at Roadhog gently.

“All of this.” Roadhog gestured out to the wilderness in front of him. Junkrat let out a breif scoff at the gesture.

“Don’t flatter yerself! All this can’tve possible been all one man’s fault.”

“You don’t understand.” Roadhog sighed. “You weren’t there. If only I hadn’t been in the ALF. If only I hadn’t caused the omnium to explode-“ A metalic hand rested on his thigh and cut him off.

“Mako. Listen to me. It ain’t yer bloody fault.” Junkrat’s tone was deeper, more serious. “If the omnium hadn’t exploded, a lotta things wouldn’t’ve happened mate.”

“I know. You would probably have become a child soldier, or maybe even have a chance at a happy life, a normal life. Not this bullshit.”

“Oh would you shut the fuck up already?” Junkrat sighed out. “I like this life if you’d ask me. Wot I meant was, if the omnium hadn’t exploded, I wouldn’t have found my love for bombs. More importantly,” Junkrat moved his hands up to the sides of Roadhog’s mask and stood up on a rock to look into the eye holes of his mask. “I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Jamison.” Roadhog gently grasped onto Junkrat’s hands, pulling them down and away from his mask. “Trust me, you would have loved a happier, normal life. A life without me in it.”

“Bullshit.” Junkrat rested his forehead on Roadhog’s, tears welling up in his eyes. “I wouldn’t change this life for anything else in the world.” Junkrat gently unclasped the pig mask and left it up to Roadhog to remove it if he wanted to, which he did.

“Why?” Roadhog asked as he took his mask off slowly, revealing his mutilated face.

“Because you fucking dumbass,” Junkrat sniffled a little bit and smiled softly at the sight of Roadhog’s face. “Because I love you.”

#overwatch #junkrat #roadrat oneshot #roadrat fic #roadrat and a dva #fluffy roadrat

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astoria00 · 5 years ago

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We’ll find our Way

Snow was a nuisance.

Even if it didn’t really pose a threat to her temperature wise, it had become a hazard to travel through…especially because she had to hold Neo’s hand oh so often while outside.

It was embarrassing, it was mortifying and…it messed with her head.

She avoided physical contact where she could, but this…this didn’t feel so bad.

Similar to how she had caught the short girl fast asleep, curled up against her side that one day.

Which she probably would never admit.

…not that there even was a reason to do that.

She was just stressed.

Unsurprisingly, keeping in mind just who was definitely going to come after her sooner or later, but fortunately they hadn’t run into any grimm under her control yet.

…which would change as soon as Salem gave them the order to capture her.

Sighing softly she inspected her surroundings.

Trees, snow and even more trees as far as one could see.

Neo trailed behind her, visibly strained from the overuse of her aura lately.

It tended to make Cinder nervous.

There was only so much backstabbing she was willing to endure.

Traveling by foot was far more demanding and slow than she had anticipated.

They had passed Argus only a few days ago, the whole city in utter uproar at the news of Atlas destruction, rumors of war whirring around.

Cinder knew their options where to…run to were quite limited, with Beacon overrun by grimm and Vacuo being the next big target on Salem’s list, so it seemed Mistral was the safest place for them right now.

‘Ugh.’

She wished they wouldn’t need to return to that blasted kingdom.

Not for the first time Cinder cursed herself for failing the attack on Haven.

To see it burned to the ground, just like…

What have you done?!

You will regret this, Cinderella!

Clenching her hands into fists, she ripped herself from these disturbing thoughts.

It wouldn’t do her any good.

Not when they needed to focus on finding another shelter for the night.

It was then that Neo caught up to her, pointing excitedly to a point farther ahead.

Following her line of sight Cinder managed to make out the blurry schemes of a building.

“Good job, Neo”, she praised the shorter girl, while internally calculating how long it would take to get there.

Since losing her eye her depth perception was pretty much gone and she had to draw everything from experience and muscle memory…or in this case, Neo’s vision.

Neo grinned at her, as she went for her right hand.

‘Ah…’

That could only mean her companion was almost out of aura.

Oh well…she guessed she had to get used to this from now on.

Entwining her hand with Neo’s they both tracked through the snow.

It took them maybe half an hour to reach the gate leading to the land’s property…half an hour too long of holding hands, while running through the wilderness in Cinder’s opinion.

Not that she complained…

…and that was exactly what was bothering her.

Her almost nonchalant reaction to being touched by Neo.

Coming to a halt in front of a wooden post that read: Brunswick Farms, the dark haired girl squinted at the half destroyed main building with suspicion.

This looked like a small village of sorts…or at least a small community, so…where was everybody?

Aside from the central house, everything else looked to be in pristine condition…just…abandoned.

Neo however didn’t seem to care too much about this strange occurrence, instead she simply stared in disbelief at the wooden plate.

‘…interesting.’

Cinder would file that away for later.

Right now they needed to find out if this…ghost town was a good enough shelter for the night.

Tugging lightly on Neo’s hand she got them moving again, her eye always trailing back to the burnt out main building at the center.

What could have happened here?

…and more importantly, when?

The dark haired girl had the distinct feeling that the fire wasn’t what drove all these farmers out of their homes.

There was this…soft tingling along her spine…something that felt awfully familiar for some reason.

But maybe she was just getting paranoid.

In the end she let Neo pick the house they would be staying in.

Her complaints about Cinder’s inability to choose comfy shelters, as she put it, just got too annoying after a while.

An incredible feat for someone who couldn’t articulate herself at all.

‘Let’s see if you can do it better.’

Neo could be certain, if anything bizarre happened tonight she wouldn’t let her live it down.

Following the short girl into one of the spacious houses she had the distinct feeling she was being watched, but it disappeared as soon as she turned around, peering through the falling snow.

Nothing…

She really needed to rest her head a bit, or else she would go crazy and hallucinate apparently.

Inside the house it was just as eerily silent as outside.

Not that Cinder was afraid of ghosts or anything like that, but something wasn’t right here, she just knew it and Neo seemed to share her opinion in that regard, as they both searched the building for any sign or clue to the whereabouts of the owners.

It was better to be safe than sorry.

And yet…it didn’t feel any more reassuring once they found them…dead in their bedrooms.

Cinder had seen her fair share of corpses in her life, but the couple laying under the blankets creeped her out. There was this…familiar icy fire inside her, running through her veins the longer she looked at them.

As if…they just fell asleep and died…

The expression on their faces quite like…

‘Drowning!’

Enough!

Turning around hastily, she made her way back downstairs sitting in front of the chimney.

It didn’t take Neo long to follow her.

The dark haired girl bit her lip in frustration when she spotted concern flash through her companion’s eyes.

Muttering a silent curse under her breath she raised her right hand and jumpstarted a fire inside the dusty old fireplace.

Hopefully that would keep the shorter girl distracted from asking too many questions right now.

She didn’t feel too comfortable talking about…that day.

To be honest, she wanted to forget it ever happened.

The warmth of the flames chased the cold away, causing it to recede back into the depths of her soul, as the tension left her body.

Neo plopped down next to her on the carpet, visibly enjoying the heat radiating from the chimney, peering at her cautiously before giving her a beaming smile.

She held out both her hands, letting them assume some…curious looking shape, while regaining her grin.

Cinder sighed defeated.

How many times did she have to remind her partner that she couldn’t understand her weird hand talk?

“Listen, Neo, I don’t…”

She trailed off, after the short girl motioned for her to turn around and face the wall across from the fireplace.

Perplexed, she followed her instructions…although begrudgingly, and found herself staring at a big shadowy wolf.

“What the-?”

Her eye shifted back to Neo, who grinned at her even wider, wiggling her fingers.

Cinder shook her head in disbelief, her tone full of annoyance.

“Very funny.”

The short girl looked at her almost innocently, searching for her scroll in her bag.

/You never played with shadows before?/

Now Cinder, let’s play a game.

It’s called hide and seek.

The maiden couldn’t help the cold shudder that ran down her spine.

This definitely wasn’t the time to recall her carefree childhood days.

“No, playing hasn’t been on my mind for a long time now.”

Seemingly on instinct, Neo raised her hands again, before realizing it wouldn’t yield any satisfying results.

Staring at her palms in frustration her face fell.

After some deliberation she grabbed her scroll and typed:

/Would you want to learn it?/, looking at her expectantly.

‘…huh?’

Cinder felt heat rushing to her face.

Did she look like a child who wanted to fool around?

“…what of my last sentence implied that I want to learn your shadow game?”

The short girl rolled her eyes.

/Not that, sign language./

‘Oh!’

To be honest…Cinder had already contemplated taking up that strange language. Not only would it make communicating with Neo easier, but also give them an advantage for sneaking around…their enemies she supposed…or maybe the townsfolk they would come across soon.

“Yes…I suppose that could become useful.”

The short girl’s expression lit up. Apparently the prospect of teaching her this concept of communication delighted her to no end.

Sighing softly, the maiden crossed her legs on the carpet and tried to replicate one of the strange motions she had seen Neo do before with her right hand, eliciting a few silent giggles from her companion.

/It’s easier if you use both hands./

Reaching forward, she corrected Cinder’s sign, one of her hands grasping the maiden’s left one…before she pulled it back immediately with an uncomfortable look on her face. The dark haired girl cocked her head to the side questioningly before her eye settled on her left arm.

‘…oh…’

Right, her grimm arm.

Of course Neo wouldn’t be comfortable to touch it.

You turned yourself into a monster just for power.

Cinder gritted her teeth.

Why did this lowlife bandit’s words still bother her so much?

She was accepting of who she was.

That’s why she had even chosen this outfit.

To make a statement!

Her arm was a part of her and she was not ashamed to show it off.

She stood up, gazing at the warm fireplace with something akin to longing, before addressing her companion, her voice calm despite the turmoil she could feel building up inside her.

“Let’s reschedule our little learning session and call it a day.

One of us needs to recharge her batteries after all if we want to reach the next village tomorrow.”

She didn’t bother checking on Neo before she left the room and wandered upstairs into one of the more empty ones, making herself a little make shift shelter next to the bed, using all the blankets she had packed in her luggage. There was no way she would lie down on that mattress.

Who knows what had been going on in that community to drive them all out?

Lying down onto her blankets she stared at the dark ceiling and tried to give her head some needed rest, only the pale moonlight falling through the window illuminating the room.

The shadows dancing in front of her eye reminded her of her first night in Evernight Castle…back when she had been a scared, little girl so in need of a place to call home.

Can I stay with you for tonight?

Come here.

There is no need to be scared of the dark, Firefly.

That’s right…the darkness wasn’t as dangerous as people loved to paint it as.

She felt a pang of sadness wash over her when she recalled the time Salem personally had tucked her in…just like the mother she never had and yet…her affection had always felt…

‘Conditional!’

Cinder knew, as soon as she started to perform under expectations, Salem would withdraw her love, if one wanted to call it that.

Sighing in resignation she couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped her, alerting her once again to how tired she actually was.

The maiden closed her eye.

Thinking about these things wouldn’t result into anything useful.

With that she began to drift away into an uneasy sleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

She couldn’t say what woke her up, only that it was cold… no, it was literally freezing!

And yet she couldn’t seem to move.

Cinder’s head felt so heavy, her eyelid too hard to open.

‘Wh…what’s…going…on?’

Even her thoughts were so hard to focus on, so incredibly slow that it took all her efforts to stay in the here and now and not slip away to sleep again.

And why would she when it was so cold?

That’s when she heard it!

An almost inaudible heavy moan right next to her head that send a cold shudder down her spine.

Fear and shock ripped Cinder from her stupor, forcing her to open her eye and blink through the darkness…

Only to be met with a black skeleton like hand, its sharp nails mere millimeters away from her skin!

‘APATHY!’

With a strangled yelp the maiden blew the grimm away, throwing a blast of unsteady fire in its face, as she scrambled to her feet in a hurry.

Running outside the room she cursed herself.

Of course this was the work of Apathy grimm.

Why hadn’t she bothered to check the other houses?

She should have known immediately that something wasn’t quite right about this farm’s state.

‘Neo!’

Gods, Neo was still inside this building and if she knew anything about the Apathy it was that they were never acting by themselves.

And that meant the rest of the pack was probably here as well.

At the very least she hadn’t heard the short girl scream-

‘Shit!’

Almost flying down the stairs, she bumped into yet a dozen more Apathy, their eyes glowing ominously in the dark when they seemed to spot her, blocking her way into the next room.

They were simply everywhere.

Standing in her way, hanging on the ceiling, weirdly entwined on the railing, staring her down, while approaching her slowly.

The deep breathy moans made Cinder’s hair stand on end.

She could feel the cold creep up on her once more.

She couldn’t risk losing her will to fight right now, or else…

Breathing in deeply, she closed her eye in concentration, before fire burst from it.

The maiden’s powers filled her with enough warmth to keep the cold at bay.

Summoning her weapons she tore through the grimm blocking her way downstairs and made a break for it, stumbling into the next room…and froze.

It was as if she just entered a hellish nightmare.

The whole room was crawling with Apathy grimm!

A grotesque blackish void with demonic crimson eyes that tried to bore into her very soul and right in the center of the nest…laid Neo!

‘No!’

The short girl seemed physically unharmed, nevertheless, the blank stare she gave the ceiling told Cinder exactly in how much danger her companion was in.

She needed to get her out of there, but…she couldn’t seem to move forward.

To the contrary, she felt herself backing away, only to find the exit behind her now blocked as well.

Her body felt so incredibly heavy, there was no way she was able to raise her weapons.

‘STOP!’

All of a sudden the pressure in her body receded slightly, allowing the maiden to think more clearly, just as one of the Apathy moved towards her almost tauntingly.

(Stay down, girl!

The Master wants you unharmed.)

Cinder’s eye widened.

Had she been able to get through to them?

Connecting with grimm was always so…demanding.

A language of weird pictures and emotions that somehow translated into words for her once she succeeded finding the small right link to them.

That wasn’t to say that she had a lot of experience at how to control grimm.

You must make it dread you!

Cold sweat trickled down her brow, as she concentrated as hard as she could to make the Apathy cover to her will.

‘Let me through!’

(No.

You are favored by the Master, however SHE is not.

That one is ours!)

It was almost ridiculous how easily the voices made their rebuttal, causing Cinder’s head to spin.

Frantically she tried to think, to come up with an idea how to salvage this.

She couldn’t just leave Neo!

[…why not?]

Because…

No, that was right.

She was able to escape.

The Apathy told her as much. They only wanted the short girl, she was free to go.

…but go where?

[Home!]

Yes, home…back to Salem…to get the power she was promised…maybe even to learn to control her new one…

It would be so easy…

She even missed her…

…

‘To hell with it!’

With an unexpected surge of strength, the maiden spun her weapons around, using her maiden powers to create a whirlwind to keep the Apathy in the room at a distance from her as she sprinted to the middle of the room, trying to rouse the apathetic girl on the ground.

“NEO! GET UP!

WE HAVE TO GO!”

The yell seemed to startle the short girl out of her stupor, blinking around almost disoriented, before horror washed over her face once the memories of what must have happened before came back.

Cinder didn’t have time for Neo to regain her marbles again and dragged her onto her feet.

Gripping her companion with her right hand, she threw multiple flaming daggers at the surprised Apathy still blocking the exit, before she balled her grimm arm into a fist, blasting through them along with the entrance door.

In hindsight maybe staying in the house would have been preferable.

The maiden had heavily underestimated the Apathy grimm…namely their numbers.

There were so many of them, cowering and weirdly perching and prancing around the rest of the farms. It was hard to even make out the white snow underneath their black, long, inhumanly feet when they slowly circled around them.

Panicked Cinder looked around.

There had to be a way out of this!

But more and more Apathy wavered out of the main building, joining the others around them.

Pulling Neo behind her instinctively, she summoned her weapon again, her grip tightening around the handle when she pointed it at the grimm with her left hand.

[Yield, Cinder!]

The maiden automatically straightened her back.

That voice…

Her eye widened in disbelief.

No, that couldn’t be…and yet her left arm began to twitch subtly, as if trying to head the command she had been given.

Neo pressed herself against Cinder’s back, her hands covering her ears.

This time the dark haired girl didn’t have the urge to shove her companion away.

Her wound only a faint burning of the past.

The short girl wouldn’t try to kill her again and…somehow…Cinder didn’t want to save herself if it meant losing her.

‘I…’

Can’t?

Shouldn’t?

Mustn’t?

‘I won’t!’

For a split second there was silence.

Then the Apathy screamed and Cinder lost the ground under her feet, her face meeting the cold, but soft snow.

She was dimly aware that Neo had fallen behind her as well, but…she didn’t care anymore.

What even was the use in fighting?

What did it matter if she was brought home again?

She was just so tired…

Her head felt so heavy…

As her eye finally closed she was calm.

This was totally alright.

Just like it should be.

…

What’s the matter, Cinderella?

‘…leave me alone…’

Your daddy can’t save you anymore.

‘…stop it.’

Neither can he.

‘That’s not true!’

Just give it up already. You will never escape me.

‘Forget it!’

An icy fire erupted inside her, sweeping away the numbness in its wake.

People always wanted to control her!

Wanted to hurt her!

Wanted to force her!

Opening her eye she felt her view shift, her field of vision tinting in a bright gold tone, as the Apathy screamed again.

Nothing…

A cruel smirk spread over Cinder’s face, raw power bubbling right underneath her skin, begging to be freed…

And she was so done with listening.

Obeying.

Bowing down.

The maiden rose slowly to her feet, making her way to the Apathy.

(Why do you struggle so much, child?

When the outcome is always going to be the same.)

She didn’t bother to answer it. Instead she raised her hand…and the Apathy evaporated, leaving only black ashes behind.

‘So easy.’

Why had she ever been afraid to use this marvelous power?

The ashes swirling through the air began to glow in a golden hue, flowing to Cinder’s still outstretched hand, getting absorbed as soon as they touched her skin.

A wave of euphoria washed over the maiden, making her head spin from the increase of her energy, as it spiked to yet a higher level.

This was…

‘Astonishing.’

[There is more where that came from.]

Oh right.

Lifting her head she mustered the hundreds of Apathy with something akin to hunger, before feeling herself rise from the ground.

Fire mingling with the cold gold, as she raised both of her arms to the side, a storm raging inside her, spreading outwards.

Just like that the Apathy scattered one after another, black ashes circling around her, growing more potent with each grimm’s demise until they swelled on and practically swallowed her whole.

Cinder couldn’t see anymore.

Some…unidentifiable noises reached her ear, but she paid it no mind.

It didn’t matter.

Only the steady flowing source of power did.

It felt so…

Exciting!

Exhilarating!

‘…overwhelming?’

Her head spun even more.

This…was too much, wasn’t it?

It felt as if something would rip her apart from the inside!

What…how was she supposed to handle so much power?

[I will teach you.]

‘…you…will…?’

[Yes…but for that you need to come home, Cinder.]

‘…I...’

Cinder couldn’t concentrate anymore.

She felt like she was going to explode.

[Now, unleash your power!

Show the world your true potential!]

Of course.

The dark haired girl was the eye of the storm.

It was time to let it run rampage.

Everything finally fell into place…until something…warm enveloped her.

‘Wha…?’

Puzzled she lowered her gaze and saw a pair of hands hugging her midsection tightly.

Her head cleared a bit.

That’s right, she had been traveling with…someone and…

[Cinder, focus!]

But…

‘I don’t want to.’

The maiden felt some of that unbearable power ebb away, as the person behind her slowly reached for her hands, tugging them down softly and the storm abruptly stopped as if it never happened in the first place.

Cinder blinked through the now peaceful night, only the pale moon shining down on them, revealing the horrors the storm had left on the farms.

Sinking to her knees in disbelief, she stared at her hands with a sick feeling inside her gut.

She had caused this…but…

‘Not of my own volition.’

Salem had been able to…entrance her two times!

That realization was more than she could currently bear.

With a strangled shriek she couldn’t help but break down in tears.

There was no control.

It had all been a lie…an illusion.

Salem was inside her head.

No one could run from her…and now she knew why.

The short girl dropped next to her, dried tear streaks under her eyes and cheeks, obviously just as shaken by the events as Cinder and entwined their hands…both of them.

She gently squeezed her left one, her thumb running over the black knuckles soothingly, giving her a sad smile, as she wrote into the snow:

/I’m sorry this happened to you./

No, that wasn’t right…

‘I’m the one who should…’

“Neo…”, Cinder’s voice sounded strangled and hoarse even to her own ears,

“I’m…”

‘I’m sorry!’

This whole mess was her fault and yet she couldn’t seem to apologize.

Nevertheless, Neo’s words filled her with something warm…something she couldn’t quite describe.

The short girl’s eyes softened, a teasing grin stretching over her face, as she tried to help both of them recover from the ordeal they just had.

/I promise, I’ll never complain about your camping spots again./

‘Ridiculous.’

Not that it hindered the maiden’s lips to twitch upwards.

This girl was just so unbelievable.

Leaning forward she let her head rest against Neo’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

AN: Hello again ^^

I know it’s a bit late, but I had quite a rough few weeks.

That being said, I will continue this to the very end.

Also for the ones reading Shattered Destiny, I will update very soon.

Enjoy ^^

#rwby #cinder fall #neo rwby #spicecreamweek #comfort/hugs #fanfiction #chapter 3 #hopefully it's finally in the tags again #angst ^^

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zombriekid · 6 years ago

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“A Drunk Man’s Words...” [Alucard/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hellsing

Summary: “...are a sober man’s thoughts.” aka you shove your whole foot in your mouth while drinking with alucard.

Warning: dialogue about virginity and sex; brief mentions of sexual activity (nothing explicit, however)

“Is vampirism really determined by virginal status?”

It’s over a bottle of wine that this question finds its bravery.

The drink itself has some boujee French name that you can’t even hope to pronounce, and its age dates back at least fifty years before you were born- probably worth twice as much as you too. And though your palette is accustomed to the four dollars a bottle variety the wine’s color reminds you of your drinking companion and admittedly it’s rather damn tasty, fruity and light and sits sweetly on the back of your tongue, so when the drink was offered you accepted a glass graciously.

Then you accepted another glass, followed by one more... three and a half glasses in and you’re ready to discuss all of the subjects that are considered conversational taboo where you’re from. Instead of politics and religion, however, you opt for something He’s a tad more familiar with than most.

The stemless crystal pauses a hair’s width away from His lips, and though He doesn’t spare you a glance it’s obvious that you have His attention. Obvious in the way the slight heat of His breath fogs the clear, glossy surface just a little, obvious in the way His scarlet eyes seem to flit over the scene of the drink, and in the way the arch of His brow tugs up in tandem with a broad shoulder.

“That’s the theory, though I suspect that there are more conditions beyond one’s sexual experience.” Alucard replies, His tone suggesting an air of casual aloofness. “It seems that it’s the most plausible, however.”

From the back of your throat comes a thoughtful hum before you wash it down with more wine. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Him do the same, though far more elegantly due to the fact that you can’t even hear Him sip, and you take this moment to... consider Him.

Consider His impossibly long legs, and how one crosses over the other with such poise- trapped, caged, restrained by them; consider the generous expanse of His chest, nearly too large for the dark vest that conforms around His slim waist- on top, weighing down, or underneath, firm support; how slender His fingers are, artistic, almost like spider legs in the way they curl around the glass’ globe- gripping flesh, neck, in between thighs- pianist fingers; you watch the sharp cut of His chin tilt back to allow more sour grapes to pour down His milk white throat- which bobs with every subtle gulp. Your drunken brain craves the visuals of clean bed sheets and sticky skin and the weight of His body, and it doesn’t tell you to peel the dried layers of skin from your lips with your teeth but you do it anyways cause it’s hot and stuffy in this room and you’re wearing far too much clothing.

Alucard is... attractive. Terrifying, and awful, but attractive nonetheless.

This is a reality that you’ve come to accept, yet even on your best days do you refuse to let that thought linger, refuse to let it fester and chafe your already confused emotions. However, now... here, in a recreation room with plush cushions at your back and a bottle at your side, you might be tempted to...

...maybe it’s the wine talking, or maybe it’s the sharp peak of His large aristocratic nose... but you’re attracted to Him. Sober Murray would deny that, shut that shit down immediately and remind yourself of all of the torment He’s hurled you way, however you’re not sober Murray right now. You’re drunk Murray, and drunk Murray can only think about how well versed this creature is in salacious pleasure.

Wait... is He? He has to be- well, no, He doesn’t have to be, just seems like He would be. How much experience does He have? Does He have any?

...is He still, and you hesitate to ask yourself this because the concept of “virginity” makes your eyes roll, but is He still a virgin?

When your mind, unfortunately, finalizes that thought it supplies you with the following information: Alucard is looking at you, direct eye contact being made and maintained, with the drink in His lap and both of His dark brows pushing into His hairline.

He looks... shocked? Which in turn surprises you cause you ain’t never seen Him caught off guard before. Perhaps you’re wrong? After all what could be so alarming to startle fucking Alucard?

The corners of His lips twitch as the rest of His handsome face relaxes, red eyes no longer the size of dinner plates, and He regards you with a quiet, droning chuckle. “And why do you wish to know that, little hunter?”

...what? Know what? Did you ask Him something? What did you ask Him?!

Ya asked if He’s a virgin, jackass, whatever remains of your sobriety reminds you, and though you could’ve swore that all of that internal dialogue was just that, in your head, apparently your sloshed brain is slower than your mouth and now you’ve opened up rather personal dialogue with a very powerful vampire.

It’s time to back-pedal kiddo and you had better be quick about it.

“W-well you’re vampire,” you blurt, ears and cheeks and neck feeling hot. “And if virginity is the determining factor here than obviously you were before, and I’m just curious if you are still.”

The eye contact doesn’t break; you notice that His are moving, studying, though never leaving you, and your memory jogs with the numerous instances you’ve suffered when you have had His absolute, unwavering attention. Instincts haywire, brain sending confusing signals to gut because neither can determine what the threat genuinely is, heart pumping so rapidly that it nearly seems like it’s not even beating... In all twenty six years of your human existence you’ve never encountered anyone or anything that’s tapped so intimately into your primal monkey brain, so when He finally removes His graze it honestly feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Crisis averted, Murray.

“To answer your question, no I am not a virgin,” Alucard says. Not one moment later, a smirk slithers across His lips until it blows out into a full grin, and it’s wide enough to reach from one ear to the other, and any relief you’ve might have felt starts to fade. “Now that I’ve indulged you...” He glances at you out of the corner of His eye, “... it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

There’s a heavy pressure wrapped around your right shoulder, a hand, judging by the fingers squeezing tight on your collarbone and the thumb gripping the back of your neck. It’s not coming from your vampiric fantasy companion- He’s still sitting in the lone chair, one hand cradling His nearly empty wine glass and the other on an armrest- yet instinctively, whether it be from generations of evolution or from years of mediumship, you know that somehow He’s involved.

This is confirmed when you watch Him lean forward in His chair, fangs on display, and a small puff of hot air ghosts across the corner of your jaw.

The gasp that’s forced out of your chest isn’t born from fear.

“So riddle me this, my curious little revenant.” The grasp on your shoulder stiffens a fraction, the fingertips curling into the bone while another cloud of breath passes down the pulse in your neck; His own fingers tighten around the glass, and His grin spreads some. “If I were to bite you right now...” another rush of hot air, this time on the curve of flesh and muscle that connects neck to shoulder, and you resist your body’s natural reaction to flinch, “... would you turn?”

Your lungs expand as you draw in a deep breath. A tingling sensation erupts all over your body, goosebumps from head to toe with every single fine hair standing on end, and your heart pounds away at your ribs- a response that sends blood battering into your head, into your ears. You feel dizzy. And, again it might be the wine talking, yet you’re not scared. You’re not afraid.

Drunk Murray is not afraid of Alucard.

(Well... not entirely.)

And drunk Murray wants to rise to the challenge.

It takes every inch of your spine to do this, but you manage to straighten your posture with squared shoulders and your chin tilted up. And after clearing your throat, albeit not exactly quietly, you dared to look directly in to His eyes and say “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

You didn’t think it possible but the smile stretches across His face even more; for the first time ever Alucard looks pleased with you.

a/u: strong start weak finish, that’s how i feel about this. but considering the fact that i’ve been in a writing slump as of late, along with my arm recovering from the tat session this past monday, i’m just proud that i’ve managed to finish something, ya know? also i wanted to try a slightly different writing style, along with doing a saucy piece, so hopefully you guys will like it. if ya did, then please show your support through them likes, reblogs, comments, and criticisms! and if ya wanna request something, my inbox is always open. thank you for taking the time to read this!

#hellsing #hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x you #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fanfic #hellsing fanfiction #writing #hunter murray

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subtlerain · 6 years ago

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Chrysalis - Part II

→ Vampire!Taehyung x Reader

I ♥ II ♥ III ♥ IV ♥ V ♥ VI ♥

A/N: Hello hello and welcome to Part II! I want to thank you for all of your support on the first part of this series, and I am seriously so pumped to share this next part! I will be posting a new part each Sunday evening (more on that in my faq) and as of right now, I am not sure how long this series will be. Please show your support on this series as I have a TON of ideas I think you will love!

Warnings: angst/emotional themes, sadistic vampire Tae, feelings & character development woop

Tagged: @fuckingpisces @ophelia-carolina @jeongin-stay @charlesgrey1875 @lilliaflurr @thelonelyshinbu @squadlevi

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tagged list so you don’t miss the next part! ♥

You stayed curled up in a ball for what seemed like forever, your face dried with tears and mind racing. It was regret you felt first, terrified out of your mind of what you had walked so mindlessly into, what would happen next in this unknown place. You had fallen asleep almost instantly, so exhausted and scared and so drained that the corner of his living room was the perfect surface to curl up on.

You hadn’t cried so openly for such a long time, and whether it was the very terrifying presence of the lonesome vampire, or your own emotions suddenly crashing down on you, you didn’t know.

One thing you did know though, was that you were foolish for thinking he’d be kind to you, have any sense of remorse for your pathetic situation that he very obviously did not care about.

The only thing that kept you somewhat sane was the fact that your sister was still alive and in a clean hospital, a kind nurse by her side, and money for her care and future piling up in the account under her name and her name only.

You awoke at a nudge at your ribs and a low voice above your head.

“Get up, girl.”

You shot up instantly, blinking away sleep from your eyes and brushing back your messy hair with your hands furiously, trying to grasp onto the very little dignity you had left.

You yelped as your eyes landed on the vampire, who was hovering above you. Pure fear caused you to scoot back suddenly, pressing your body against the wall as your eyes widened to saucers.

He stood above you, his almond eyes narrowing even more, “I hate the smell of salt.”

You realized he was talking about your tears, and you wiped at them hastily, “I-I’m sorry.”

You knew you looked pathetic, and you hated it, but when you were faced with death in the form of an elegant creature who at any moment could tear you to shreds, you reacted the way another other human would.

He only looked away, “Follow me. I’ll take you to your room.”

It took you a moment to process his words in your fuzzy brain before you leaped up and grabbed your bags, knees wobbling as you followed him wordlessly.

He walked fast, sweeping along the corridors like a ghost, and you tried to memorize the turns you took down darkened hallways, past old antiques and dusty bookshelves.

You stared at the back of his head as he walked, wondering what he was thinking. Upon your first interaction, it was clear he was not of your kind, rather possessing a supernatural aura that caused your uneasiness. You were sure you had passed other vampires, perhaps in the subway or on the street or in a coffee shop, but they all concealed their uneasy energy, if not gave it up completely, if that was possible.

That was not the same for Mr Kim.

He was the most vampire-ist vampire you had ever come in contact with, from his victorian style, creepy mansion to his lose fitting, velvety clothes.

Unlike any human you would come in contact with, it was hard to analyze him, judge his expressions or gauge his response. He was stone-faced and remorseless, and you wondered just how long it took him to perfect his unpleasant demeanour.

Your eyes drifted from a curl of hazelnut at his nape to the patch of exposed skin at his nape.

But if you knew anything about those who appear horribly sharp and vile on the outside, they used that exterior as protection, as a shield from everything on the outside.

And this vampire’s chrysalis had had decades and decades to build up.

You were pulled from your thoughts as he suddenly stopped in front of a door, and you reeled back to avoid slamming into his back. He produced a key from his dress-coat pocket, a shiny brass instrument that he jiggled into the keyhole. He twisted the knob and you followed slowly as he flicked on the lights.

Like the rest of the house, it was victorian style, lavish and old-looking, but somehow still beautiful and elegant. There was a large bed in the centre with dark red sheets and pillows, a vanity and a closet. It was larger than you expected, and you continued to admire the room until you noticed him looking at you carefully.

“You will sleep here.” He said sharply, and he seemed to think for a moment, his eyes trailing down your body and to the small case still clutched in your hand, “Although it seems you brought some belongings, I’ll send your measurements to my stylist to have clothes made for your stay.”

You shook your head, “Oh, no really, that’s okay! I don’t need—“

His eyes narrowed, “As I said yesterday, you’re living in my house under my rules, and as much as I despise this awful ‘companion’ concept, I’d rather pay for new clothes for you than have you walk around in whatever rags you brought.”

Although you felt a pang of offence which you knew he certainly meant, you just nodded. After all, his father had said he would pay for your expenses, and a new wardrobe did sound rather appealing, especially hand-made ones from his personal stylist.

Silently, you walked over to the bed to place your suitcase on the mattress.

Mr Kim watched you carefully, letting his eyes sweep over your features again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to a human. Just as much as this was a new situation for you, it was for him, and he took a moment to analyze you, his narrowed eyes traveling up and down your body. You weren’t particularly attractive nor unattractive, he thought, and he could point out all your flaws easily. You obviously didn’t have a lot of money based on how worn your shoes were and how faded your dress was, and he wondered why you still hadn’t tried to run away after his threats, and after your complete meltdown on the floor of his living room.

The door was unlocked, and it wouldn’t take you long to run back to humanity and back to your sick little sister that you were foolish enough to waste your young-adult life on by agreeing to live with him.

He wondered why you weren’t at least trying to fight back, why you had been so submissive even after his blatant insults.

He noticed that you had been still for a little too long, and how you tried to hide your trembling hands from him, even though he could detect every tremor in your tiny body. But, the most intriguing thing to him was that he could hear the steady rhythm of your heart. He noticed that it spiked every time he looked at you, and you tensed each time he talked. It was rather distracting, he thought, the sound of your warm, pounding organ loud in his ears.

It was also irritating that you were so blatantly alive. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in the same room as a human girl, one so full of life and so so devastatingly warm.

“Mr Kim?”

His eyes snapped to yours as you turned around and faced him. You looked away for a moment before pulling your eyes back to him.

The vampire was also surprised at your willingness to look at him in the eyes. Most humans avoided the eyes of a vampire, for they were piercing and cold, unforgiving orbs that sucked out nearly all light. But even with your trembling hands and pounding heart, you looked right into him with those large, human eyes of yours, even if he tried his hardest to summon all the darkness in him directly to his irises.

But, he reminded himself, you were not just a regular human girl, of course. You were obviously, horribly, stupid. After all, you had agreed to practically give up your life and freedom for a family member, and live with him, a hopeless, reclusive vampire.

And worst of all, it seemed you had hope that you of all people would be able to change him.

“Yes?” He replied.

You let out the smallest of smiles, “I haven’t introduced myself yet.”

He blinked.

You bowed your head, and gave another small smile, “My name is Y/N.”

You were smiling, however your eyes were still puffy from your tears and your hands were still trembling. He wondered why you were trying so damn hard to be okay when you clearly were not.

He narrowed his eyes, and ran his tongue over his incisors, “I do not wish to know your name, because I am still trying to figure out if I am going kill you.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart rate spiked again, the sweet crimson pumping through your blood rapidly, your response only natural given his words.

Fear.

He brushed back a piece of his fringe, “I will call you what I want, or I will choose to disregard you completely.”

You blinked at the ground, but you nodded simply, as if you had already guessed his answer.

He rested his hand on the doorknob and looked away, “I will give you further instructions tomorrow.”

The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was the words of Mr Kim’s father:

“He is the future of my company. Your job is to help to integrate him into our world, so do not fail. Your request will not be fulfilled if you do not do your job.”

***

Mr Kim tested your name on his tongue as he walked down the hallway to his own quarters. It didn’t taste bad on his palate, in fact, it rather suited you, he thought.

He listened to your heartbeat even out as he walked down the hallway, and he listened to it slow even more as he lay in his bed that night, his eyes closed, as you fell asleep in the next room.

He had lived alone for decades, and he had always walked down these corridors by himself, the only thing in his ears the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of leaves. But now, in his home was a human girl, and your presence was nearly overwhelming for his senses, his palate, and his whole, dead, body.

It should be a vampire’s dream, but it was his worst nightmare.

He let his mind roam as he lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling.

He could kill you now, he could rip the human life out of you so quickly that you wouldn’t know what had happened. Or he could drag it out slowly, watch the life seep out of your eyes and let your body go limp in his arms, like a perfect doll.

Or, for a fleeting second, he thought he could take you to the room of your sick little sister and stab you straight through the heart with the sharpest dagger he owned, and he could watch the little girl pale and scream and cry because you had taken the one person that probably mattered the most to her.

Before he slept, Mr Kim wondered what it would be like to be on the side of the dagger this time, to hold it in his hand and place it in the heart of a human.

He wondered if your sick little sister would mirror his horrified, helpless, desperate expression that he wore all those years ago.

***

You slept very well for a person in the home of a sadistic vampire. However, you woke with alarm, the unfamiliar room causing you to nearly scream with panic until you remembered the events of the previous day.

Mansion. Vampire.

You sighed and pulled yourself from under the sheets. You weren’t one to take a lot of self pity, and after your meltdown the night before, you now just felt a little empty. But it was better than crying, so you took the numbness with ease.

Plus, the good news was, he hadn’t killed you in your sleep.

How grim.

You opted for another summer dress, this one light floral and collared. You looked at your figure in the mirror as you did up the top button and slid on a pair of flats.

This was your life now, and the sooner you accepted it, the better.

You thought of your sister for a moment, her doe-eyes filled with tears when you told her that you had to leave. She had tried to sit up in her hospital bed, but the monitor beeped and the the tube in her arm stretched, so the nurse in the corner of the room eased her back down.

“When will you be back?”

You remember looking away and not knowing the answer, wishing that you could tell her something to ease her mind like a date that she could count down in her little brain.

So instead, you smiled the kindest, warmest smile you could muster.

“No matter how long, I’ll always be with you. Sing a song and I’ll sing too, whisper you worries and I will hear them.”

She had beamed through her glassy eyes and nodded, and you nearly sobbed because she was so strong, and the most determined little girl you had ever met.

So when you left, her soft little voice helped you gain courage, and made you smile.

With a deep breath in and out, you put a small smile on your face and made your way down the hallway, using your mental-map of the mansion to navigate, until you finally reached the main foyer of the house.

It was empty, and you let out a sigh of relief when there was no trace of Mr Kim. Although you knew he was most likely lurking somewhere, it was much too early in the morning to deal with his piercing eyes and sharp words.

You stood in the foyer for a moment, unsure of your next move. It occurred to you that he hadn’t told you what he expected the next day, nor where you could find him if you needed anything.

Then again, he seemed to want nothing to do with you, which was just fine. Much like a stubborn child, it would take time to fully complete your task, and time what what you had now.

However, the first problem was that you had no idea where the kitchen was, and the loud rumbling of your stomach was persistent.

Your question seemed to be answered when you strolled down the large hallway and a pungent smell hit your nose. You gagged, and covered your mouth with your hand, eyes nearly watering at the strong scent.

Mold? Rot?

You prepared yourself for the worst as you entered a door towards the back of the house, eyes widening as you walked into the kitchen.

Or, what supposed to be a kitchen, and not mountains containing layers of garbage and old food and blood bags littering the once-white countertops.

Huffing, you made an executive decision, and five minutes later, you were decked out with a face mask, apron and blue rubber gloves you had found in a cabinet, trash bag in one hand and mop in the other.

You bit your lip as you tossed blood bag after blood bag into the trash, followed by old food and boxes of frozen pizzas and ramen noodle cups in the trash. You almost laughed at the fact that he ate the same brand of spicy ramen noodles as you, despite being a blood-sucking vampire.

Maybe you had more in common than you thought.

Once the trash was tossed, you scrubbed the counter tops with the strongest soap you could find and bleached nearly the whole kitchen. Despite the horrifying mess, you were just glad to have not found piles of dead bodies drained of blood that had first come to mind from the smell.

Old pizza and bags of blood supplied by your local hospital were just fine.

It was the humming that awoke Mr Kim from his slumber, the light vibrations sounding from your throat that caused him to snap his eyes open, and just listen, his senses alert. Something moved deep inside him at the sound, so harmless yet so comforting.

He hadn’t heard a woman hum so idly for such a long time.

He wordlessly followed your soprano, creeping along the hallways with narrowed eyes, however, his ears were wide open, and he felt a flit of something pleasant stretch through his body as your voice filled his ears.

He banished the feeling, of course.

Your voice lead him to the kitchen, and he halted his movements when he saw you turned away from him, scrubbing out a particularly stubborn stain on his granite countertop. His eyes flitted to the garbage bags packed with packages of blood and rotten food, and the stench nearly gave him a headache.

It was a stench he hadn’t noticed whenever he rummaged through the kitchen with a burning, instinctual hunger and ripped open a bag of blood, or grabbed a handful of ramen noodle cups and retreated back to his study.

He looked at you, clad in rubber gloves and a face mask, apron wrapped snugly around your waist. Your heart rate was relaxed, breathing soft and even.

And you were still humming.

But then you turned around, and your heart rate spiked, and your eyes went wide with sudden surprise.

“M-Mr Kim! You scared me…” You said, eyes landing on the ground again.

“What are you doing?” He asked, your shallow breaths loud in his ears.

“Cleaning.” You answered softly, your voice muffled by the face mask.

He looked around you, and he seemed to be thinking before he responded, “Very well. Continue.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, nearly expecting him to chastise you. But his response was so normal that you paused for a moment before picking up your sponge and continuing to scrub.

He didn’t leave, either.

You watched him from your peripheral vision as he pulled out one of the dark oak bar stools and sat, leaning backwards on the chair, dressed in silk pyjamas and the same housecoat he had on yesterday. His dark hair was messy from bedhead, but somehow still looked wonderful, wispy curls of melted chocolate brushing around his face.

You were confused but his presence, yes, but opted to pretend he wasn’t there, so instead you scrubbed harder until the countertops shone.

He watched you carefully, and kept himself busy by listening to your heartbeat as it slowed down to a normal pace. You had stopped humming, and for a moment, he wished he hadn’t interrupted you so he could hear the sound again.

He saw the way you kept glancing at him from behind your mask, your wide eyes landing on him before darting back to your work, and he smirked before speaking.

“I’ve come up with a list of rules for your stay here.” He proposed.

You stilled, “O-okay, Mr Kim.”

His eyes never left you, “First, you’re not allowed to leave this house.”

You stopped scrubbing, “What? But what about—”

He narrowed his dark eyes, “Take off that mask, I cannot hear you properly.”

You flushed and slipped off the rubber gloves before pulling off the mask, bare face now completely visible to the man in front of you.

He deliberated, “Fine. You are not allowed to leave this house, unless accompanied by me.”

You blinked.

That was unexpected.

He seemed to notice your surprise and continued, “I don’t trust to not run away. If I lose you, or if you get hurt, my father will not be happy, and as much as I hate him, he is undoubtedly more powerful than I.” He looked down at the countertop, “I do not wish to leave, but I will do so to protect myself and keep you in line.”

You only nodded. Self-benefit. Of course.

“Next,” He continued, not missing a beat, “Do not bother me when I am sleeping. There will be consequences if you do.”

You nodded. Simple enough.

“Do not be noisy for no reason. Do not scream or cry or do anything that is unnecessary or foolish.” He said harshly, not a snippet of remorse in his tone. “I expect you to cook and clean as-well, but do not over eat, I find that annoying.” He looked away.

You nodded again.

He stood up, slightly surprised at your submission, “And your manners are atrocious, I will teach you how to behave properly soon.” His eyes were narrowed as he paced in the kitchen.

You looked down, feeling your face redden.

“Understood?”

You jumped, “Y-yes, Mr Kim.”

Suddenly he was in front of you, and he shook his head, jaw tense, “And…don’t call me that.”

You blinked up at him, and you willed yourself to not look away, “Call you what?”

His eyes were on yours again, dark and unwavering, “Mr Kim. That is my father, and I’ll throw myself off the very top of this mansion before I become that scumbag.”

You nearly laughed from surprise at how sincere his comment was before you spoke up again, “Then what shall I call you?”

There was a crack in his composure for a moment, so quick it was over in a blink of an eye, only visible because you were so close to him. It was as if he was very venerable for just a moment, and you could’ve sworn you saw something inside the deepness of his irises soften for a fraction of a second.

Then he turned away, back facing you, and his voice was low, “If you must, you may call me Taehyung.”

Your lips quirked into a secret smile, and you felt something in the centre of your chest flip.

Taehyung.

***

“Y-you really don’t have to—“

Mr Kim whipped around to face you with narrowed eyes, “Do not make me ask again.”

Deciding hesitation was a bad option, you got onto the stool he had placed down in front of you, raising your height to almost match his.

He unrolled a measuring tape, “Although this is a waste of my time, as I said, you wearing the same clothes every day is not ideal.” His eyes met yours, “I still cannot believe you don’t know your own measurements.”

You only sighed. Taehyung had been rather adamant about getting you new clothes, and you had to admit, your very few pieces of clothing would not suffice. So, here you are, standing on a stool in your room, feeling bumps raise on your arms as he disappeared behind you.

You had noticed that he hardly ever wore the same things twice, and he always had some kind of accessory, ranging from a long silver earring or a leather choker.

For someone who hated your world, you were sure he could easily become the next model for some high-end, trendy fashion brand if he wanted.

You had barely been in his house for a week, and you already knew that arguing with him was a pointless exercise, even if he was being completely irrational. Such as the situation you had found yourself in, where you could’ve just popped over to the local department store, but no, things were never easy, and he refused to step one foot out the door despite your suggestion.

So you went along with him, deciding to use this opportunity to get to know the vampire better, if he would even let you.

You flinched as his fingers brushed down the side of your arm, stretching the tape from your nape to your wrist.

You breathed in, “Do you do this often?”

He didn’t miss a beat, “I would measure my father for his suits, when his assistants were away.”

He moved to write your measurement on a piece of paper, before facing you again, eyes trained on your torso.

You swallowed as his fingers moved around your hips, “Do you see him often? Your father.”

He scribbled down a number, “No.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile, “I guess you wouldn’t want to, the two of you don’t seem to see eye-to-eye.” That was the kindest way to put it, you thought.

Taehyung was back in front of you, his body only inches away as he wrapped the tape around the dip of your waist, “He means nothing to me.”

You bit your lip. You had only had a few interactions with Taehyung despite living with him, but it was clear as day that he despised his father. He had never given you any inclination as to why, but you guessed it was a difference in beliefs. After all, his father is the charming CEO of a big corporation, and Taehyung is a reclusive introvert with a clear dislike to anything outside of his mansion.

His eyes flitted to yours for a second, and he murmured under his breath, “Pardon me…”

You tried not to think about his hands as he wrapped the tape around your bust, and you concentrated on lifting your arms, dropping them weakly as he once again pulled away.

You watched him carefully, a single question balanced on your tongue, “What about your mother?”

He stilled, his pencil hovering above the paper, “She died long ago.” He wrote your last measurement down.

You looked away sadly, “I’m sorry.”

He clenched his jaw, “You’re not at fault, so don’t apologize.”

Based on his reaction, you knew he had closed off this topic, but that didn’t keep you from wondering what had happened to her.

Instead of staying quiet, he spoke up, “And your parents?”

You shook your head, “A sob story I’m sure you don’t want to hear about.”

He turned around at that, his stone-faced expression mildly bordering on curiosity. Of course he knew of your sister, the sick little girl that his father was giving medicine to. But, he realized, he knew nothing else about you apart from your name and your little mannerisms that he had picked up on. And of course, he knew your intoxicating scent, and the sound of that sweet crimson pumping through your veins.

But he had to admit, he was curious about you.

You smiled weakly, “She was a single mom, and she died when I was younger.”

His eyes were already on yours when you looked up, “You have no mother, and your sister is ill.”

You nodded and stepped off the stool, “It’s just me and Mina.”

Taehyung watched you carefully, trying to mask his expression while watching yours. You were acting so calm, open and easy, as if you had just been talking to him about your favourite colour, not this horrible past that he would’ve never guessed existed.

His eyes narrowed, and he felt something sticky inside him, a familiar feeling that he felt all too often, “She left you nothing.”

You shrugged, “We never had much. She was depressed, she was struggling too. Things just got more difficult when my sister got sick.”

Taehyung clenched his fists as he watched you, your expression so calm and understanding, so very horribly accepting of the things that had happened.

He swallowed, “Why aren’t you angry?”

You smiled at the ground, “What will getting angry help? What will resenting my dead mother change?” You looked at him with a sudden determination in your eyes that nearly left him breathless, “I have to keep my head up for my sister, and for myself.”

His lips parted slightly, and he realized that he truly didn’t have anything to say.

You didn’t speak to him much, and when he demanded to be left alone, you did. He didn’t know what exactly you did when he was locked away in his room, but he had never seen you cry, never seen you scream or get angry at the world, even though you had every right to be.

It was so unfair, he thought, so unfair that you had to bear this burden at your young age, so unfair that you had left your sister and lived with him, your selfless actions that you made with such ease, as if it was what anyone would do.

He looked at you once again, your chin up, shoulders relaxed as you started towards the door.

It was so unfair that you, like him, couldn’t just have a normal life.

You glanced at him briefly from your doorway, “Thank you for measuring me for new clothes. I’ll send up dinner to your room later.”

And that, that horrible, terrible, genuine smile that you had given him way too many times. It was those kind eyes you showed him, ones that he did not deserve in the slightest, that made him speechless, because he was so unkind, so horrible and unpleasant in every way.

So why had you always been so kind to him?

Taehyung let his hands drop to his sides, and for the first time, he saw a piece of you in him, a person with a past full of heartbreaking memories.

But where he had hidden, you had risen, and somehow, the world had lead you to him.

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years ago

Note

Okay so after the invasion of New York The Avengers come to live together in the Tower, everything seems fine at first until Steve and the team are confronted with Tony's open sexuality as they watch him in a conflict with a man that he had brought home the night before but is having problems with (might I mention violently having problems with) after the fun. Tony tries to brush it off as nothing but if the way he is very slightly showing signs of pain is anyting he's not fine at all.

Alrighty! This is surprisingly Steve-centric, but I think it works well as a set up and also this is very stony. Don’t know how you feel about the pairing but that’s what came out lol. Warnings for references to abuse and sexual violence. Be prepared- this is a Long Boi.

(Side note: I do have your other prompt in my inbox- I’ll get to it at some point!)

Back in his day Steve knew about queer people, lived in a community close to where they all seemed to live too. But in his day that kind of thing was wrong and no one really talked about it, and when they did it wasn’t anything good. He’s always known about his uh… attractions and the serum, it was designed to make him perfection physically. Everything that had been wrong with him was cured- no heart murmur, no asthma, no more being hard of hearing. But his attractions never went away. It’d been the first time he’d ever truly considered that maybe people were wrong about how they viewed queer people. Maybe he didn’t agree with them before- no one he’d ever met seemed all that bad, but he’d thought he’d been giving himself an out. A way not to feel bad about what he is.

But the serum was supposed to get rid of the imperfections and it never got rid of that.

In the modern day he sort of learned that the serum must only work on physical things given how hard life seems to be, harder than it’d ever been in the war and then there’s the guilt he feels over that too. Who wishes for a war just so they can feel useful again? It’s messed up. But those attractions never really went anywhere and Steve hard started to wonder if maybe it’s a mental thing like people used to say. Serum wouldn’t cure that, he knows that now thanks to the shell shock. PTSD, they call it now.

That’s about when he’d moved into the Tower and, much to his surprise, discovered that Tony must have the same attractions he does but he’s shameless about it. Natasha had been the first to notice his surprise, obviously, but had explained some about modern movements for LGBT equality. On the side Steve did his own research and it turns out people still plenty hate gay people, but there’s a lot of pushback to it. It’d been the first time, really, that he’d considered that that was something about himself that he could take pride in. Before it’d been a source of shame.

It had been watching Tony’s easy flirtations that had made the transition easier, and maybe it was Clint’s teasing back that made Tony’s sexuality feel less out of place. Clint’s straight, they all know that, but he doesn’t seem to care that Tony hits on him and it ends up being a running joke. Now the string of one night stands? That’s unusual even for this time he’s learned but Tony is Tony and he does what he wants.

Steve keeps an eye on it though, not because he has a problem with it really even if he wonders why Tony feels the need for constant companionship with no real meaning, but because it’s new, someone embracing their sexuality in this way. Even those that accepted their gayness in his time kept things secret outside of the communities they were drawn to. He thinks all that time spent watching Tony, his investment in figuring out how exactly to hold pride in his sexuality, is why he noticed the pattern before anyone else.

Tony seems to disappear for a day or two after his encounters and its not all the time, and Steve notices a skew towards disappearances after men but women make Tony disappear too. Just a little less frequently. He brings his findings to Natasha but she brushes him off, telling him that maybe Tony likes his privacy but Steve knows he has no concept of privacy. Not after growing up a celebrity- people expect him to share in every aspect of his life all the time so he’s become an oversharer. So he goes back to watching Tony’s actions and trying to find patterns. There’s Avengers downtime at the moment anyways.

It takes time but Steve eventually learns how to intercept Tony’s one night stands leaving and it takes work to predict Tony’s paths out. Its like he’s planned for this, someone trying to confront the people leaving his bedroom and Steve finds that strange but he’s seen the press harass Tony. Maybe this is a symptom of that. Steve finds his latest conquest gripping Tony’s arm in a way that’s got Tony looking leery and combative, never a good combination in Steve’s experience with the man, so he speaks up. “Is there a problem?” he asks casually, leaning against the wall.

There is, he can see it on the guy’s face right away but he knows how apprehensive people are to confront him. Could be being Captain America, could be his physical presence, but he suspects its a healthy dose of both. “It’s fine Steve, leave it alone,” Tony says, voice tight and he looks pissed off for some reason.

His eyes flick back and forth between the two of them before he turns to leave because, strange situation that Steve is suspicious of or not, Tony can take care of himself. Steve has seen his competence in action on many occasions. “Nice of you to call your guard dog off,” the guy says and Steve doesn’t like the tone he’s got, makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he’s learned not to ignore his instincts.

The guys sounds, he realizes, like his father when he got drunk. Except this guy is sober. So Steve turns, “actually no, let go of Tony’s arm and get the hell out,” he says. Tony gives him a dirty look for it but Steve knows something is off here.

“The hell right do you have to tell me what to do?” the guy asks and Steve rolls his eyes.

“This isn’t a fucking negotiation- get your damn hands off Tony or I’ll pull them off myself and then I’ll toss your ass out the door. Take your pick,” he snaps, unsure why he’s so upset to begin with. It seems to surprise Tony too but the threat does its job and Tony’s companion skitters off, Steve glaring at him until he’s out of sight. When he turns back Tony looks annoyed.

“I don’t need you to play White Knight, Steve. I can take care of myself,” he snaps.

Steve shakes his head, “I’ve seen you do all kinds of impossible things- I know you can take care of yourself. Doesn’t mean you can’t use the backup,” he says.

Tony rolls his eyes, “I don’t need backup either Steve, I’m not some pet project and I’m not a zoo animal so if you can stop following me around like an anthropologist following some shiny new tribe.” He turns and stomps off after that and Steve frowns, unsure what the hell just happened on any level. He does, however, think that maybe Natasha won’t brush off his concerns this time.

When Natasha finally agrees to review the tapes she decides she doesn’t like the interaction Tony had had with the guy Steve intercepted but had been ready to leave it be. Steve tells her to do an actual investigation though and he’s sure she only does it because she likes him enough to listen. By the third encounter she’s searching harder for the small snatches of Tony’s encounters on tape- seems he removed them from his personal areas- and nothing looks good.

By the time they’ve gotten through three months of material Steve asks if its possible to make actual police reports about these people because Tony really can pick the worst of the worst. Steve isn’t sure he’s met anyone with that bad of luck. Natasha considers the footage for a long moment before shaking her head. “I don’t think we have enough evidence to make a case against any of these people. They’re all handsy and its inappropriate, but not enough to warrant an investigation and Tony won’t be cooperative,” she says.

Steve frowns, “why the hell not, he obviously doesn’t like being treated like this,” he says. They’ve watched, over and over, Tony trying to pull away, or stop the interaction, or some other thing consistently so what’s the problem?

“And yet he keeps bringing people like this home,” she says. He can feel the look he’s giving her and given the way people seem to crumple under any pressure he puts on them he’s surprised when she doesn’t. “Don’t look at me like that, this is what the courts will say. If he didn’t like it he wouldn’t find himself here so many times.”

He rolls his eyes, “so bad luck means you can get treated like shit now? Unbelievable.” He shakes his head and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Oh lets not act like you came from the good old days where abuse was something people talked about and prosecuted. He’s a celebrity and he’s known for being experimental in everything he does, sex included. No one will take this seriously,” she tells him.

He looks at the screen- Tony is frozen on it, trying to pull his arm out of the grasp of some conquest’s grip and he’s clearly uninterested in whatever is happening. Natasha has a point though- in his time people treated this like it was normal, Steve has seen it happen to plenty of women. It wasn’t right then, and he doesn’t understand how this particular area of law hasn’t improved. Forcing people into situations they don’t want to be in isn’t ever okay, so how come this still happens seventy years later?

In the end Steve goes to Tony about all this because what else is he supposed to do? Natasha sits off to the side and Tony, for whatever reason, chooses to take out his anger on her. “Can’t you keep your fucking nose in your own damn business or are you always such a damn snake?” he snaps.

“I don’t know what snakes have to do with this,” Steve says, “but this? Isn’t acceptable.” He gestures to the screen and he’s sure Tony, with his genius brain, can figure out what he means.

Tony looks over and rolls his eyes, “I’m bisexual, get over it. Your homophobia isn’t my problem,” he snaps and Steve frowns, confused for a moment and Natasha takes the small lull as a moment to pounce.

“He means the abuse, not the gay thing. None of us give a shit about that,” she says.

“I don’t,” Steve adds fast, pauses, and then continues. “Would be hypocritical if I did,” he adds. That seems to shock Tony into submission for the time being so Steve uses the silence to talk. “People can’t keep treating you like this Tony- we’ve watched something like a dozen encounters and not one person treated you right.”

The comment seems to pull Tony out of his reverie and he eyes Steve up and down and gives him a small, flirtatious smirk. He’s seen the look a million times before and he ignores the way his stomach flutters because he has no time for this right now. “What, never met someone who likes it rough?” he asks and Steve wrinkles his nose on instinct at the vulgarity.

“Pretty sure people who like it rough consent to that and this,” he points at the screen where Tony is paused pulling away, “is not what consent looks like. Actually, that’s a pretty damn clear no to me. People should’t treat you like that.” People shouldn’t treat anyone like that but right now Tony is his priority given that this is a consistent thing.

Tony gives the screen a half a glance before that irritatingly arrogant dismissal Steve had, when they first met, mistaken for a lack of caring appears on his face. “Its fine, Steve, people have disagreements,” he says.

Steve raises an eyebrow, “well was this a disagreement or was this a consensual interaction that was intended to be rough? Why the change in story?” he asks. He watches Tony’s hackles rise and Natasha steps in.

“Tony, we aren’t stupid- we know you well enough to know what you act like when you’re being forced into something you don’t want. That’s not what we’re questioning,” she murmurs.

“What I’m questioning is why people think its fine to do this to you,” Steve says. “And also,” Tony tenses, flinching a little like he expects Steve to say something harsh, “how no one has noticed this before.”

Whatever Tony was expecting it wasn’t that. “What, don’t wonder why I put up with it?” he asks a little harshly.

Steve shrugs, “I know people who’ve been abused. At a certain point you’re just desensitized to it. I don’t even know if you consider this abuse at all and considering the way you talk about Howard this isn’t new to you. That isn’t okay either, you shouldn’t have to be used to this,” he says.

Natasha frowns a little, looking at him the way she looks at people she’s trying to dissect. Its a distinctly Natasha look rather than one of her many personas. Tony looks confused too. “Its not abuse, its just a disagreement,” Tony mumbles.

“Several of them that seem to play out the same way and this,” he turns back to the computer and finds the right video, “what the fuck even is this?” he asks, gesturing to Tony stumbling along- clearly drunk not that the woman he’s with seems to give a shit. “This isn’t even a consensual interaction- you can’t even fucking stand.” Its probably the most shocking thing they found and Steve suspects not the first time this woman has done this kind of thing. Looks too practiced to him and Natasha agreed.

Tony doesn’t seem to though. “Oh come on, you’ve never had drunk sex?” he asks and no, he hasn’t.

“Can’t get drunk with the serum, and before that I was too worried about hacking up a lung to drink. But I’m not an idiot Tony, there’s a difference between drunk sex and taking advantage of someone. If your partner can’t even fucking walk, they can’t consent to sex. Simple as that.” Tony rolls his eyes and looks to Natasha like she’s going to help and she looks at him like he’s nuts.

“You think I’m going to defend this woman? You’re damn lucky I didn’t hunt her down and give her a taste of what the Red Room taught me to do, Tony. Steve’s right, at the very least this is assault.”

Tony doesn’t seem to take it well, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the two of them. “I don’t need your help,” he tells them and with that he walks away. Steve sighs and goes to take off after him but Natasha hold him back.

“Let him go. I know from experience that it’s hard to accept you’ve been abused- give him time to process it.”

Its three days later and Steve’s having trouble sleeping, something that’s not entirely unusual, when Tony finds him and sits down on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him and a glass of whisky in his hand. Steve pulls the glass out of his hand and set it down on the side table farthest away from Tony. He gets a dirty look for it but there’s no real heat there. For a long time they sit in silence before Tony speaks. “Why the hell do you care about how people treat me anyway, you don’t even like me.”

Steve frowns at him, “don’t like you? When’d you get that impression?” he asks.

Tony rolls his eyes, “somewhere between ‘big man in a suit of armor, take that off and what are you’ and ‘I know guys worth ten of you’. Could have been ‘you’re not the guy who makes the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you’, or maybe it was ‘you better stop pretending to be a hero’,” he says sarcastically. “No offense, but you made it damn clear you hated me from the moment you saw me so what the fuck do you care now?”

It feels like a lifetime ago that Steve saw that, watched the footage and yeah, Tony looked like a real jackass. But Steve has spent too much time watching Tony’s self destructive tendencies to believe the footage is who Tony really is. “I misjudged you. And I also recall you calling me a lab rat and telling me everything special about me came from a bottle. I don’t hold that against you,” he points out.

Tony lets out a loud snort, “yeah, probably because I’m the only one who’s every said that to you. Wanna know how many people have said the shit you did to me? Almost everyone I’ve ever met, except you were polite about it. Lets not fucking compare the two,” he snaps.

“People used to tell me I was worthless all the damn time, Tony. That’s what happens when you grow up skinny and useless in the war effort,” he snaps. “I know more about mistreatment than you might like to think.”

“Maybe,” Tony says, “but I’m not a fucking idiot. I know when someone hasn’t felt it their whole life from everyone and it fucking sucks because I’m damn lucky. I’m rich, I’m attractive, I’m a fucking superhero so what right do I have to suffer? I’m living everyone’s damn fantasies out and I’m whining about it?” he shakes his head. “And even that’s never been fucking good enough for pretty much anyone around me,” he mumbles. “I can do the impossible- I’ve been able to do that my whole life but I was never Captain fucking America.”

Steve frowns, “who the hell expected you to be me?” he asks. He certainly hadn’t and to his knowledge no one else has either. Well, okay, people tend to compare them a lot and yeah, people favor him but that’s not the same he thinks.

Tony gives him a withering glare, “Howard. Never mattered what I did, how good I was, how much better than him I was I was never you. I used to hate you,” he says and the tone is so harsh Steve wonders if he still does.

“Why are you so pissed off about something I had nothing to do with? At Howard, I get that. He sounds like he grew into a real jackass but its not like I’ve ever made those comparisons,” he says. “And… the way you do things, it could use finessing, but you’re a damn good problem solver under pressure. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he says honestly. And his solutions- they’re always something Steve never would have thought of. They’re creative, innovative- they’re distinctly Tony.

“Who do you think the guy who lays down on the wire in your analogy was, Steve? We all know the legends and stories that follow- you’re heroic sacrifice everywhere you went. Erskine chose you because everyone ran away from the grenade and you jumped on it. You’ve made your opinion of me clear so again, why the hell do you care about me at all?”

Steve clenches his jaw for a moment before sighing. “I made my first impression clear, and I made my current assessment clear too Tony. You can’t choose to hear one and not the other. And I care about you because anyone who gets treated like you do by your lovers, and I use the word loosely here, deserves kindness. You deserve better than that, everyone deserves better than that,” he says, shaking his head.

Tony goes back to being silent and Steve lets him for a long few moments. “I’m not a hero,” he says after awhile. Tony gives him the same look Steve suspects anyone would if they heard that. “I grew up Irish, back when people still cared about that kind of thing, in a bad neighborhood with a shit father and a poor mother who was trapped in a bad situation. I had so many health issues it was a damn miracle I didn’t die of polio at ten, and I felt fucking useless my whole life. I wanted to join the war for purely selfish reasons- I told myself that it was because it was important but that wasn’t it at all. I wanted to feel like, for once in my life, I wasn’t the useless little runt everyone always told me I was. I told Erskine I didn’t like bullies, I don’t, because my whole life I’ve been a victim of them. Treated like shit for things I couldn’t help.”

He shakes his head, taking a breath before he continues. “Then I get this serum and I thought I was going to do something real, be important. Instead I was a dancing fucking monkey for a propaganda machine and I hated that too. So when I found out Bucky had been captured by Nazis I did something stupid and selfish and Peggy let me because she didn’t sign up for that program to watch me fake punch Hitler. I didn’t set out to be a hero I did what I wanted because I was scared, selfish, and pissed off at not doing anything useful. Only heroic thing I ever did was land that plane. I didn’t expect to wake up a legend some asshole used to abuse his kid his whole life Tony, that just happened. To add insult to injury no one even remembers Steve Rogers- people remember me as the myth they built to suit whatever propaganda people want to throw my image on in this decade, not the real man behind that image,” he snaps.

For some reason he looked himself up once and he’d been shocked at what political parties have used his image to endorse. Most of it is stuff he’d never actually agree with but that’s because he’s Captain America, Propaganda Piece, not Steve Rogers, man with real values and opinions. And he hates that, resents it with everything he has but what’s he supposed to do about it? People listen when he talks about as much as they do to Tony. People only take what they want to hear from either one of them.

Tony shuffles in closer, pressing himself into Steve’s side and he wraps an arm around him because they both need the comfort. “You ever kiss a guy before?” he asks and Steve rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh.

“Once. Got my ass kicked for that,” he says, shaking his head. Bad decisions used to be his MO back in the day.

“Yeah, that happened to me once too,” Tony says and Steve suspects that’s an understatement. He turns to face Steve, face close to his and his hair isn’t styled like it usually is. Instead is flops over his forehead naturally and it feels almost intimate to view Tony like this, soft and lacking his usual mask of bravado. “When’d you figure it out?” he asks, eyes bright with curiosity.

Steve knows what he means. “Don’t know really, guess I always knew. Its when I realized people thought that was wrong that I remember, not when I was attracted to men.”

Tony nods, “incidentally I happen to have the same experience. Howard. Pretty much everything fucked up in my life comes back to him,” he says. “Still though, Rhodey was nice, almost as smart as me and that’d been the first time I ever met anyone who challenged me intellectually. Helped that he has a nice ass, too.”

“Your best friend? The Colonel?” he asks and Tony nods, laughing.

“I used to be so paranoid about it- AIDS crisis was a big thing around then, people were dropping left and right. Didn’t want Rhodey to think less of me and also I didn’t much care for the idea of dying so I kept my sexuality to myself for a long time. I’m not very subtle though and Rhodey and I shared a room so he obviously noticed. Turns out he has a gay uncle and was fine with it.” Steve laughs, probably too hard because he had almost the same thing happen to him.

“I had a friend in the army, Morita. Poor bastard was Japanese after Pearl Harbor. Anyway, he was a smart little asshole and figured things out real fast. I thought… hell, I don’t know what I thought but when I finally got tired of being paranoid about it and confronted him he surprised me. Said I never judged him for being Japanese, never treated him badly when everyone else would have. That people were nicer to him because of it. So he said he didn’t have much place to judge me, and that maybe people were wrong about how both of our people were treated. He was the only one who ever knew to my knowledge.” Bucky probably could have figured it out but Steve is sure he didn’t, and Peggy was certainly smart enough too but she’s sure she didn’t look past their relationship. She had better things to focus on than who he was checking out when he thought no one was looking, they all did.

Tony takes in the information for a moment, eyes flicking down to his lips and Steve sighs. “How much have you had to drink?” he asks. Tony gives him a dirty look.

“I’m plenty in control of my faculties,” he says. “I can do math to prove it to you.”

Steve snorts, “you could probably do math half dead with a concussion. That’s a piss poor measure of sobriety.” At least for Tony- Steve, he’s never been that good at math. He’s not bad at it, but he’s much more suited to the arts. Always has been.

Tony laughs a little, “you’re not wrong, but I’m not actually drunk.”

“I can smell the alcohol,” Steve points out. Useless to lie when he can smell the truth.

“You have a super sniffer and there’s a glass of whisky to your left. Obviously you can smell alcohol. Just take my word for it and kiss me,” he says.

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning at Tony’s shocking forwardness before considering his actions. Alcohol could have made him more willing to open up, but what he had to say- that’d make anyone sober. And he knows what Tony looks like drunk too, unfortunately. But it does give him a solid assessment of Tony now and he’s not drunk, buzzed maybe, but Steve doubts that too. So when he carefully tilts Tony’s jaw up and kisses him he does it with the knowledge that Tony wants this, that he has enough mental capacity to want it. And when Tony throws himself into it Steve knows he’s made the right choice.

#stony fic #post avengers #canon divergent au #tw abuse #fanfiction

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lil-nest · 6 years ago

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The Talon and the Demon’s Heir, prologue: Envole-Moi

Fandom: Batman comics Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape Summary: ‘The verse sang "fly me away". As he cried after the Court sent him to his first murder, he sang that line again and again, hoping someone might come fly him away. One day, someone did.’ or Dick used to be a Talon, until this kid got him out of the Court and threw him into another prison. Only this time, they both plan to escape - with Batman's help (AU Talon!Dick, Dick and Damian are the same age)

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He could only watch as blood seeped from the wound, slowly flowed along the blade, and dripped to the ground.

It was either that or looking in those cold, wide, glassy eyes, and how could a dead person have such an accusatory look?

What had he done?

Talia offered him a glass of herbal wine to appease his tremors. He gratefully accepted it.

All it took was a glass of wine.

When the new dawn came, he did his best to put that day behind him and avoid thinking of it at all cost. But whenever he did, he was blinded by the blood and the pain and the shame.

Had he looked back on it, he might've wondered why he couldn't remember what happened next.

Even then, he probably would have put it on shock.

It wouldn't have changed anything.

(Shock really was a powerful thing.)

He left the League after that. Went to Gotham, swore to never kill again, and became Batman.

It was a lonely life, that of a vigilante. Of course, there was Alfred, but despite his best qualities, he wasn't the liveliest of companions.

Then came the circus. The acrobats, the fall. The orphan that was so much like him.

Bruce knew Gotham's system could do nothing for Richard. He knew the kid needed the stability and empathy a group home couldn't provide, the closure GCPD would be unable – unwilling – to give him.

He knew only him could save that boy.

He left the circus that night decided to shelter him, if only for a while, until he could find his parents' murderer.

Had he been honest with himself, he would've admitted that he wanted more than temporary, that he wanted the light he had seen on that trapeze to shine in his home.

Even then, he couldn't have known that the boy would disappear right after the incident.

It wouldn't have changed anything.

(The Batman was powerful, but so was the Court.)

Once, when the circus was in France, he heard a song that really moved him. He didn't remember the lyrics – didn't understand most of it, really – but he knew the verse sang “fly me away”. It was about children born in misery who fight for a chance to get out of it.

As he performed back then, he hoped he was good enough to fly the poor kids in the audience away, if only for a night.

As he cried after the Court sent him to his first murder, he sang that line again and again, hoping someone might come fly him away.

But days went by, then months, a year, and no one ever came.

Until one day, someone did.

He was sitting in his room – cell – when a child no older than him barged in, sword in hand.

Apparently, the intruder had been forbidden from taking prisoners, but nothing had been said on gaining allies.

He blinked, prompting an explanation.

As he was a held in a cell, he was considered the enemy of the intruder's enemies, and as such, he was given a choice: if he didn't want the intruder to drive a blade through his chest, the Talon had to drive his own through his old masters'.

It wasn't a hard choice, really. Although...

"I do not have a blade," he answered, gathering his claws. "I have ten."

And so he followed his new ally, their psycho mother and her army of killer ninjas, and proceeded to murder the Court.

When all was said and done, Talia refused to bring the Talon with them. She did not trust a soldier who had so easily turned against his previous masters.

She could not really explain that to Damian, however, as he argued that he would not betray the League because he would be treated as he deserved, and find a new reason to fight for their greater purpose.

She couldn't risk her kid realizing that he was in the exact situation he had saved his new friend from.

She was defeated when Damian pointed out that the Talon had saved his life, too, and thus, by the sacred rules of Nanda Parbat, he had a debt to repay and needed him by his side to do so.

The League of Shadows was supposed to be the first stone of the new, perfect world they wanted to create. If they did not follow its principles, how could they claim that moral high ground?

(Of course there wasn't any moral high ground, nor was there any greater purpose apart from dominating the world, but Damian could not know that. He was still too young.)

So he followed them to Nanda Parbat, where the Talon became the new guardian of the Heir to the Demon, and Richard became Damian's first, only and best friend.

If asked, he could not have told why he had been so adamant about not killing the Talon. There had been something in his posture, this mix of cold despair and dignified acceptance.

Fortunately, no one would ever have dared ask, otherwise that something might have been identified as pity – sympathy, even. Such weak feelings did not suit Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson.

Neither did the warmth that spread in Damian’s chest whenever his new bodyguard was near, or the icy grip that clenched his heart when his grandfather had considered disposing of him.

Richard was dangerous.

Yet, Damian could not help but feel that the kid was his salvation.

The Talon was loyal, and seemed to take his mission to heart. But that was not what made him appreciate his presence so much.

Richard was kind, as kind as a member of the League could afford to be – sometimes even kinder, which had led to painful punishments Damian had had to give him himself. Yet Richard had never blamed him for those, had merely smiled and settled back into their routine, as if nothing had happened.

He knew as soon as Richard started doubting. The boy didn't mumble in his sleep, nor had he changed his behavior. But he knew.

He also knew he had to report these treasonous thoughts, knew he had to eliminate a potential threat before it could turn into a security breach.

But he didn't.

How could he? Somewhere, somehow, he had started to trust Richard more than his own mother or grandfather.

Instead he told him. Not in so many words, of course, that would have been too dangerous. But they were past needing words to communicate.

So Richard explained. Distant memories of his mother's teachings, a deep rooted conviction that he couldn't explain, except it had to come from before, from a time when he was not Talon.

That was it. This was more than enough to warrant execution. This was heresy. But Damian was curious. He wanted to know about these evasive concepts that challenged everything he had learned.

Nanda Parbat valued truth, but perhaps truth did not reside in Nanda Parbat.

Thus they started plotting. It quickly went far past “dangerous”, but it was too late. Every bit of the new moral code they built together from Richard's hazy memories and the few outside people they managed to interrogate – mostly locals they were sent to kill – made more sense, until they saw this little fault in the carefully constructed logic of the Sacred City's laws.

Slowly, it all came apart. They started seeing the hypocrisy behind every word.

They immediately stopped their research. This was too much, this was too dangerous. They needed out, quickly, before someone caught them.

At night, Damian dreamt of being far away, somewhere he could try out these new morals. Above all, he dreamt of names for this warmth: more than trust, it was brotherhood, fondness.

At night, he blessed Richard for freeing him.

During the day, the two kept honoring their wrong duties.

During the day, Damian cursed himself for trapping the Talon.

They needed to get out. But getting out in itself was the easy part. The problem was how to stay out. Once the League would realize their betrayal, it wouldn't be long before they were found and disposed of.

There were exactly two ways of escaping the League's grasp: being impossible to find – which they didn't think was actually possible – or being somewhere the League preferred not to send its men – they didn't think there were places the League's men couldn't go with enough means, but there were places that weren't worth the trouble.

Namely, the USA. Or at least the places most protected by the Justice League.

It was really unclear who would win the fight, in an all-out war between the League of Shadows and the Justice League, but neither side truly wanted to find out, as whichever won would find themselves so weakened in the outcome that any other enemy would be able to finish them off.

This was the reason the League of Shadows had tried to gain a foothold in Gotham through destroying the Court of Owls, but like every previous attempt, it had failed.

Gotham was their destination, it seemed.

That actually could work, as Damian remembered his mother saying his father was American. She also told him he was a great warrior, and what a shame it was that he was so stubborn and unable to realize the League of Shadows held the hope of humanity.

Damian was starting to think maybe his father had been right in leaving while he could. Perhaps his father was using the Justice League's presence as an advantage. Perhaps his father's presence was also part of the reason the League of Shadows had troubles gaining some influence there.

Perhaps his father would be willing to extend his protection?

There was only one way to find out.

The first issue would be to figure out who his father was. True, he had this little birthday battle bets going on with his mother, but he could not afford to wait until he could beat her.

He didn't think he would be able to do much in a meeting controlled by the League, anyway.

Fortunately, Richard had more experience in betraying his alliances, and was better at using their resources against them – as shown by how he had managed to sneak his claws in his cell.

Damian's father was obviously a man of interest for the League, which meant information about it had to be stored somewhere accessible to the leaders, a file most probably complete with a DNA sample. Considering that they had a walking and breathing example of Damian's DNA, it was only a matter of time before they matched it with his father's.

Not that Damian had any illusion: obviously he wouldn't have access to that file. But maybe, just maybe, Richard could get clearance to the uncensored database.

Breaking his own leg was both painful and humiliating. It was necessary, however, and if there was one teaching Damian would keep from his time in the League, it was the ability to put his goal before his personal safety.

Thus impaired, Damian had to stay home for this outside meeting he was supposed to follow his grandfather to, which meant his mother had taken his place, leaving him relatively unsupervised. He didn't doubt he would pay for this ill-timed incompetence. It didn't matter anymore, though.

As Damian's bodyguard, Richard stayed too. He took a blood sample from his friend, and went on his way to the labs.

This was the tricky part of the plan. If someone tried to attack Damian while he was unguarded, or if someone saw that Richard wasn't where he should be, or if he didn't manage to erase all traces of this research once it was done... suffice to say the results would be unpleasant for both of them.

Luck, however, seemed to be on their side, and Richard did not come across anyone during his trip. All for the better, as he was not exactly thinking clearly on the way back.

Damian's father did not just benefit of the Justice League presence in the US. Damian's father was a member of the Justice League.

“Damian Wayne-Al Ghul, Demon's Heir, Son of the Bat” certainly had a nice ring to it, Richard thought.

This had just gotten interesting.

Once Damian had gotten over the fact that his father was his grandfather's nemesis, they began to draft a plan.

Actually, as far as plans went, what they had wasn't anything his strategy teachers would have been proud of. (They were all dead, anyway. What did they know about safe plans?)

They used all the few contacts they had managed to make during their search for truth, and managed to obtain a burner phone, which they used to sent a text to Bruce Wayne's personal cell, hoping the man would believe them.

Maybe there was a deity somewhere, or an all-powerful law of balance that decided they both had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, or maybe Batman was just that thorough.

One way or another, he came.

To say he was surprised when he received a text from an unknown number in the middle of a meeting with his shareholders saying he had a son with Talia al Ghul – of all people – would have been a gross understatement. He was confused and disbelieving and angry and ashamed and he honestly wasn't sure what else, because he kind of blacked out.

Alfred – bless his soul – managed to appease the spirits angered by Bruce’s abrupt departure, as well as calm the man down and help him decide what to do.

Not that there was an actual question about that. If this was true, then his son had been living in the League of Assassins for more than ten years, and that was unacceptable.

If it wasn't, there was someone out there who knew not only his secret identity, but also about his brief time with the League.

Either way, he needed to investigate.

He landed the jet as close as he dared to the complex, and camouflaged it as best as he could. He had no doubt that it would be spotted, but hopefully he'd have enough time before it happened.

He was sneaking in a corridor, trying to guess where Talia would accommodate his son, when he received an alert that someone was trying to open the jet. He swore under his breath.

He had to find this child. But he knew if he took the child and didn't manage to leave with him, Talia would make sure he would never have this opportunity again.

For now, however, she didn't know why he was here, and if he left, she would assume it was only to steal information, and he would have time to plan another infiltration.

Praying a god that he didn't believe in that his son would forgive him, he made his way back to the jet.

When the vehicle came into view, he half expected guards trying to identify it. Maybe even Talia or Ra's, if he was unlucky. He had not expected two small figures fiddling with the lock.

As he approached, one of them turned around: the face was unmistakably that of his son. It seemed he had found a friend, then.

He crossed the distance separating him from the boys, concealing his apprehension.

“Need a ride, boys?” He asked in his best sarcastic gothamite tone.

The second head rose to face him, and he was surprised to recognize it.

He had had more than a few nightmares about that poor circus boy he had failed to save.

Just what was Dick Grayson doing with the League of Assassins?

This had just gotten interesting.

#fanfiction #batman #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #talon!dick #AU #cw implied rape

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years ago

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31st August >> Daily Reflection/Commentary on Today’s First Reading for Roman Catholics on Friday of the Twenty-First Week in Ordinary Time (1 Corinthians 1:17-25).

The distinction between true and false wisdom. In this reading Paul presents us with one of the most central concepts of his teaching and indeed of our Christian faith. He begins by saying that Christ had not sent him to baptise. In so speaking, he is not in any way minimising baptism. What he is asserting that his special calling was to proclaim the Gospel. It was for others to establish Christian communities after he had gone to preach the Message in another mission field. Peter, too, asked others to baptise the Gentile Cornelius and his household after they were received into the community (Acts 10:48).

Today’s passage focuses on the essence of our faith, which transcends all human divisions – a message just as relevant now as it was then. What he says arises out his displeasure with factions which were forming in the Corinthian communities. Some saying they were for Paul, others for Apollos, or Cephas (Peter), or even Christ. Paul emphasises that they are all, whoever baptised them, one in Christ. It was Christ and Christ alone who died for them and saved them. Paul’s particular role or charism was to proclaim the Gospel mainly to new communities; he was a founder of churches and communities and so he kept moving from place to place. The other church ministries were left to others to carry out. It is a good example of the diversity of gifts which he will speak about later on.

Further, his role was to preach the Cross of Christ but not with an orator’s eloquence which might rob the Cross of its real power. Oratory was a highly esteemed talent in those days, especially among the Greeks and Romans, but Paul makes no claim to it and for that he is glad. Paul’s mission was not to couch the Gospel in the language of the trained orator, who had studied the techniques of influencing people by persuasive arguments. What Paul shares is not human wisdom but the wisdom of God. The strength of the message is not in how it is delivered but in its content.

The Cross will speak for itself and does not need the persuasive language of the orator. The message of the Cross is unique. It requires a special kind of insight to see its meaning and its wisdom, which is itself a gift from God.

For those who are not on God’s wavelength, it makes no sense but for those who are it speaks of God’s power, above all, the power of love.

Paul quotes from the prophet Isaiah (29:14) in which God says he will bring the wisdom of the wise to nothing. This was originally said in the context of the people of Judah and Jerusalem who thought it was an astute thing to do to make an alliance with Egypt and thus turn away the threats of Sennacherib, the Assyrian king. God had other plans to deal with him, plans which the “wise” never dreamt of. In fact, Sennacherib was forced to withdraw from the gates of the city when his army was unexpectedly decimated by a kind of plague.

And where are the wise men now – all those pagan philosophers, including those Paul met in Athens and who laughed at his message? asks Paul. Perhaps Paul knew of the remark of Aristides who said that on every street in Corinth one met a so-called wise man, who had his own solutions to all the world’s problems. (We still have them in our newspapers every day!) Where, asks Paul, are the experts in the Mosaic Law? Where are the “debaters of this age”, those Greek sophists who loved to engage in long and subtle disputes?

Has not God – in Christ – made the wisdom of the world look foolish? Faced with the mystery of the Cross such people have nothing to say.

In a beautifully paradoxical statement (worthy of an orator!) he says: “Since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe.”

Not, of course, that their preaching is foolish but the message of Christ crucified is viewed by the world as foolish. Jesus said something similar: “I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned, you have revealed them to the childlike” (Luke 10:21).

And so, the Jews are demanding miracles and signs as proofs of God’s saving power among them. Several times in the Gospel Jesus was asked for a ‘sign’ to prove his credentials, even though his whole public life was a succession of signs which the ordinary people frequently recognised. The Greeks, on the other hand, indulged in endless philosophising about ‘truth‘ and ‘wisdom’ without ever coming to grips with the realities of life.

The Cross is on a completely different level. It does not require great intelligence and learning to be understood. It can be grasped by the totally illiterate person. It is not a message of intellectual depth but a witness to immeasurable love. It can only be accessed by faith and trust.

Paul and his companions are proclaiming a crucified Lord, a message of power shining through total impotence and apparent failure. On the face of it, it is a total contradiction, except to those who can see its inner meaning.

No wonder it is a ‘scandal’, an insuperable obstacle for those Jews who were waiting for an altogether different Messiah. They expected a triumphant, political Messiah, not a crucified one.

Even Jesus’ disciples had this expectation. On the day of the Ascension, they asked him: “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom of Israel?” (Acts 1:6). The answer, of course, was “Yes” but not in the way they were thinking. Similarly, the two disciples on the way to Emmaus said to the stranger who walked along with them: “We were hoping he [Jesus] would be the one to redeem Israel” (Luke 24:21). It was only after Jesus had explained the Scriptures to them that they realised the real truth behind their question.

And to the Gentiles it made no sense whatever. How could a crucified criminal be proclaimed as the world’s Saviour? Greeks and Romans were sure no reputable person

would ever be crucified, so it was unthinkable that a crucified criminal could be the Saviour.

However, for those who have received the call, be they Jews or Greeks, Jesus on the cross speaks eloquently of the power and wisdom of God. The crucified Christ is the power that saves and the wisdom that transforms apparent folly into ultimate and highest discernment.

And Paul finishes with a memorable and much-quoted statement: “For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

Today the Cross is still seen as a stumbling block and as nonsense by those who only see the external image. In a world dedicated to acquisition, power and success, it gives a totally unacceptable message. Jesus is seen as a soppy wimp.

The power of the Cross, the power of active non-violence is not understood and the followers of Jesus are ridiculed and deemed irrelevant. As Christians living in this world, we are probably often caught in the middle. We are carried along by the power-success dream and at the same time would like to be able to make the weakness-failure Way of Christ ours too.

What we need is to be able to see clearly that the real power and wisdom is with Jesus’ way and that the way of the world ultimately leads only to nothingness.

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thetakenpokemon · 7 years ago

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Act 0 - The Hunt Begins

[PoV: Firesword]

I glance behind me to see that Ash is still following.

Despite her running past me earlier she quickly lost her enthusiasm as expected, causing her to start lagging behind.

From the look of her expression, I can see that she’s finally taking things seriously. It greatly gets on my nerves by how she treats everything, since she often forgets what she is and who she works for.

As part of the Guardians of Twilight, our duty is to find and remove those who are a dangerous threat. We are the ones that work hard in order to make sure that others can sleep peacefully, to do what the law lacks the resources in.

We have a role fulfill and an image to keep, which I take great care to maintain. Ash on the other hand treats everything as if it’s one big game, which often jeopardizes are position.

To see that she’s realizing the great importance of our situation on her own makes me feel somewhat relieved, since otherwise it would’ve been rather...difficult as usual to force her to actually be serious.

We travel through the winding halls and the numerous rooms of the giant multi-floor structure that is the Guardians of Twilight Headquarters, also known as the GoT HG for short. Many members pass us by, some giving nods or smiles while others don’t even acknowledge our presence. None attempted to pull us aside for chatter, mostly because our expressions were enough to tell them that we won’t be deterred from our course.

We eventually reach Kaiser’s office, the giant door is sized so that any member of the GoT can fit through. The door is also meant to be pushed, since some members (such as I) lack hands to maneuver objects effectively.

Although I would knock on it to signify that we’ve arrived, my blades would most likely scratch the wood and knocking on the door with my feet is just...awkward. So instead gesture with my head to Ash, wordlessly asking her to knock for us.

She looks at me with confusion before realizing what I’m asking her, which she nods and approaches the door.

...Only to apparently misunderstand my gesture and simply push the door open and walk inside...without knocking.

I grit my teeth in irritation at her cluelessness, her inability to comprehend the simple thing that is proper etiquette. When one approaches one’s room they must knock so that they don’t simply barge in like what she just did, NOT to mention that Kaiser is also our SUPERIOR and we need to show her proper decency.

I take several deep breathes to calm my nerves. It wouldn’t do me any good to be mad now since what’s done is done, so I’ll give her a verbal lashing once this is over.

With that I walk in after her.

Sitting at her rather large desk is Kaiser, the leader of the Night Hunter branch. The Garchomp doesn’t wear her armor when she’s not in combat, so it’s easy to see the scars from the wounds that struck her exposed areas.

In her fins is a stack of papers she’s sorting through, reports from other Night Hunters from what I assume. She looks up at us with a rather bemused expression. “I see that you two don’t seem to feel the need to knock.” She speaks, her voice mirroring her face.

“I do apologize for my companion’s actions.” I respond flatly, turning my glaring gaze to Ash. “It appears that she has forgotten about the simple thing of being polite.”

Said Salazzle could only grin sheepishly in response. “Sorry.” She apologizes quietly, rubbing the back of her head.

Kaiser merely cracks a grin. “Forgiven.” She chuckles before setting her papers down. “However,” The Garchomp continues, her expression hardening. “We have important matters to discuss involving your new appointed task, so please...” She gestures to two appropriately sized chairs before her desk. “...have a seat.”

We both do as she asks, she waits patiently as we sit down. Once we’re properly settled she continues.

“As you both know, The Lady is the one that has chosen you two for this specific task.” She says gravely. “The reason why is that you two have shown to be outstanding members of the Night Hunters, your accomplishments and skills have caused you both to quickly rise above the numbers. Because of this she believes that you two are perfect fit for what she’s assigned you.”

“What is it exactly that you want us to do?” Ash asks suddenly, I glare at her again as I feel my irritation rise to newfound levels.

If Kaiser had eyebrows she would most definitely have risen them, so instead she shakes her head. “I was about to get to that, Delilah.” She sighs. Ash glances at me and gives me a grin with a ‘I told you so’ look on her face. I merely shake my head in response, I can already imagine that after this she’ll tell me that she was right on the fact that aliases should only be used for work.

I still disagree on the fact, since professionalism is key to a perfect image.

“As I was getting to before being interrupted,” The Garchomp continues, giving Delilah a flat look. “the task that’s assigned is something of an...unusual sort.”

She pulls out several papers, the eye symbol stamped on them signifying that they’re reports from the Night Watchers. “A week ago we got a report from a run of the mill town called Richfield, a little hamlet located in the middle of absolutely nowhere.” The Garchomp dexterously maneuvers the papers with her fins as she looks through each one. “From what one of our Night Watcher members investigated, there was an attack from some sort of monster.”

A monster? I could feel myself perk up at this, it’s unusual for us to fight something that’s not a feral Pokemon...so the concept of possibly dealing with a ‘monster’ of some sort is intriguing.

Although it could simply be an actual Feral Pokemon that’s simply being called a monster, but one never should give up hope.

“They’ve questioned all of the civilians so this is what we’ve got.” She sets the papers down. “The physical description of this thing seems to range all over the place. Some say that it was a Scizor, others say it was a Gardevoir, another even said that it’s a Machoke.” She shakes her head. “The reasons for this is because everyone fled when it appeared, so they didn’t get a good look at it.” Her eyes quickly narrow. “However, one common thing they all share is it this thing is just ‘wrong’. The place around it got dark and its body looked like it was made of the night sky.”

Now this...is new, with that sort of description it couldn’t possibly be a Feral Pokemon.

“So it couldn’t even be a Pokemon?” I ask, since now is an appropriate time to ask a question.

“We’re unsure, since it doesn’t sound like some sort of Cosmog hybrid or even an UB.” Kaiser replies. “It could even be an illusion made by a Zoroark, however that’s unlikely due to the method it used to kill.” Her jaw tightens. “It killed four guards by slicing them in two, the cuts were so clean that it couldn’t have been made by a normal weapon. Hell,” She shakes her head. “even the move Guillotine doesn’t cut that perfectly.”

“So why us?” Delilah asks again, deciding that it’s safe enough for her to speak up again. “If this thing does that, wouldn’t it be better to send in a Night Warden team?”

“That’s the thing,” Kaiser sighs. “we’re not sure. This does sound like a big threat, but at the same time...it could be anything.” The Garchomp sits back in her specifically designed seat, crossing her arms. “The reason why we chose you two is because not only are you two good, but you can get out of a tight situation. We’d send in a Night Watcher or two to investigate further, but this whole thing seems too...fishy.” She shakes her head again. “So we want you two to get to the bottom of this, and if you find it...we want you to take it out.”

I open my mouth to speak, but she quickly cuts me off. “However,” Kaiser continues again. “We also don’t want you to risk your lives, so if this thing proves to be something else entirely...then we want you both to immediately report back. If it ends up being something of an incredibly dangerous level, then we’ll send in one of our Night Warden teams.” She leans forward. “Understood?”

Her tone contains the authority of someone that can’t even be argued with, so we both nod. “Understood.” We respond in unison.

Kaiser gives a nod of her own. “Good.” She grins again. “Your task starts immediately, so go gather your supplies and be ready to head out as soon as you’re able.” She pushes a folder towards us. “This contains all of the information we’ve obtained as well as the location of the town.”

Delilah takes the folder in her hands before standing up. “We won’t let you down.” She chuckles, giving Kaiser a thumbs up.

“I hope not.” The Garchomp laughs. “You both are well on your way to becoming Night Wardens, so it’s only a matter of time till you stop reporting to me.”

“But I like you better than Colossus.” The Salazzle pouts. “He’s far more...loud than you, not to mention he seems to have a strange obsession with purposefully getting people’s names wrong.”

Kaiser merely shrugs in response. “If you two become Night Wardens, then you’ll be forced to deal with him.” The dragon stands up from her chair, her smile growing smaller. “Delilah, Ren’Gul...” She says, nodding to each of us respectively. “Good luck.”

I place a blade on my chest. “Thank you, we will not fail this task. We will complete it like all of the others.” I bow my head. “We will leave at once as you’ve requested.”

With that we both leave her office and proceed down the hall, the folder still in Delilah’s grasp.

We both walk in silence, a silence that quickly began to grow more and more uncomfortable to me. Eventually Ash breaks it, and so comes the moment I have been dreading ever since that meeting.

“Sooo...Ren’Gul~” Delilah purrs. “Since I can call you that here, I’m gonna make sure to use it.”

“We have both been assigned a task, so we are now working again.” I respond tightly. “We will only use our aliases until it’s complete, so do not say my name again.”

The Salazzle rolls her eyes at this. “I swear, you’re so much of a hardass that I don’t think you even need to wear armor there.” She cracks a grin. “It’s harder than diamond at this point, even bullets will bounce off of it.”

I stop and give her my most withering glare. “Shut...your...mouth.” I growl menacingly.

She merely shrugs in response, her smirk never wavering. “Alright, fine. If you want to be a dick about it then go ahead, do your thing.” With that she continues forward, leaving me to stew in my anger.

...How in the hell did I end up with someone like her?

A thought crosses my mind and I feel a smug smile form on my face. “Ash...” I say to her, adding extra emphasis to the name.

She quirks an eyebrow at me, looking at my smile with growing uncertainty. “What?” She asks, an expression of worry forming quickly.

Heh, and she SHOULD be worried...

My smug smile grows ever so slightly. “Since you’ve forgotten the common decency that is being polite, perhaps I should educate you on it...” My eyes narrow. “Again.”

Watching the blood flow away from her face is an incredibly satisfying thing.

“Oh hell no!” She screams before suddenly bolting, nearly trampling over several members of the GoT despite her small frame.

With a satisfied smile I hum a quiet tune as I continue down the hall, enjoying the lack of Ash’s presence.

#fireswordscyther #ashsalazzle #kaisergarchomp #guardiansoftwilight #plot #act 0

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hejin57-blog · 7 years ago

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MUSIC MASTERS: CD ONE

Might want to rewind a bit...

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RETURN OF THE SPACE COWBOY: PART SIX

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To any other person, today might seem like a perfect winter day. There was but a light blanket of snow covering the streets and buildings in Akihabara, and even the normally noisy city ambiance was restrained in its intensity.

But all Arashi could focus on was that snide smirk on the face of the young man across from him.

They sat together by the window side in a small cafe, having ordered drinks and little else. Arashi's remained untouched, but his companion had already taken a few greedy sips.

He was dressed in a nice chalk gray suit, hair slicked back and fingernails trimmed to perfection. His aftershave reeked like gasoline, and despite all of his nice clothes, one could still see the fanged teeth of his dragon tattoo visible on the bare skin of his collar.

Arashi's eyes remained hidden as always under his sunglasses, and he held back any reaction as the man spoke. From when he first arrived, he had originally introduced himself as Sho.

"This is a pretty nice neighborhood, you know? I like it here. I'd like to raise some kids here some day. Get me a nice girl and have a nice little family." he remarked, looking on wistfully onto the street as people bustled on by.

Arashi said nothing in response. Whatever games this man wanted to play, he would be no part of them.

Sho wasn't too fond of that, of course. "Your sister is a nice girl. I saw her once at the arcade. She's really a looker. She's, what, sixteen now?"

To Sho's surprise, Arashi didn't flinch. He did, however, answer back.

"I'd like to think you called me here to discuss more than just my sister."

Sho smiled. More than one of his teeth were clearly fake. "Well, actually no. God Symphony sent me to speak to you, that much is true, but Nami is very much the subject of today's discussion."

The man leaned in, clasping his fingers together. There was something very uncomfortable about the knowing smile on his face.

"We'd like to offer her a job." he said, quite frankly.

"Really now?" Arashi replied, feigning just the slightest bit of interest, if it would end this infernal meeting any sooner. Arashi had always despised these Yakuza and their underhanded dealings, but for them to be Music Masters as well just made the whole situation all the more unpleasant.

"Don't be so surprised. I mean, let's face it, there's a lot of untapped potential there. We could use a Music Master like her for some of the bigger stuff. Plus, the big boss seems to be a fan of hers. Says he goes to see her at Shori-Platinum once a month, at least."

Arashi's eyes narrowed under his sunglasses. He understood the situation perfectly now.

"My sister in your organization? Out of the question. I'm sorry, but you've wasted your time."

Despite the sternness in Arashi's tone, Sho was far from finished. "Oh come on. The perks are pretty nice. Good money, and just imagine the respect she'll get from those regular Yakuza who don't even know what we can do. The job's to die for, I'll tell you."

By this point in time, Arashi was standing up. He was in the process of counting bills in his pocket to pay for his drink when the man's tone changed from friendly to threatening.

"Did I forget to mention something? I wanted to be respectful and come to you as a formality. But if you're going to be like this, then I have no problem letting my men know that they can pick up Nami within the hour."

His snide grin was all too real for Arashi now. Defensive words seemed stuck in his mind as the man continued.

"The bill's on me. Sit back down and get comfortable." Sho assured, clearly in the position of power now.

Like a lapdog, Arashi slowly took a seat again. Even with all the seething rage boiling inside him from this criminal's threats, Arashi's expression never changed in slightest.

"Now we're going to make this very simple." Sho explained, taking a wad of yen bills out of his pocket as he counted out the tab for their drinks. "You're going to take me to your sister, and you're going to explain to her that God Symphony has offered her a wonderful position that you highly suggest she take. She'll be going abroad for awhile per her assignment, but you'll see her again."

"And if I don't?" Arashi stated, not a hint of fear present in his tone of voice.

"Then I will personally find her, and I will personally drag her out of that arcade kicking and screaming. And let me assure you that you won't see her again in this lifetime."

With that, the suit-wearing man put out for a handshake, basking in the power of his threat.

"Are we at an understanding, Nagataki-san?"

Many thoughts went through Arashi's head before he took the man's hand.

One thought surfaced among them as he replied.

"I'll take you to her."

Sho smiled, now clearly satisfied.

Arashi knew that he would have only one chance at this, lest Nami disappear from his life this very night.

-----

It was only a half-mile walk between the cafe and Shori-Platinum, but it felt like an eternity for Arashi. Meanwhile Sho seemed to be talking with him as if they'd been friends for years. Every laugh and joke were only made worse by the threat beneath them. Still, it gave Arashi the time he needed to mentally plan out the situation. Anything to stop this degenerate and his Ensemble from forcing his sister into their ranks.

They were only two blocks away when Arashi found the secluded alleyway he'd pictured in his mind while they shook his hands at the cafe. As they passed it, the boy stumbled, pretending as if he dropped something on the ground.

"Excuse me. Strong drink, I guess." he commented in his best joking tone.

His music player tumbled out of his jacket pocket, and through sleight of hand, Arashi subtly reached for it. With his headphones already resting around his neck, he could have a song effect up in a few seconds.

His finger was just above the controls when he heard an audible click, and felt cold metal press against the side of his head.

"What, did you think I was born yesterday? I might be a Music Master, but I haven't forgotten the good old-fashioned way of doing things." Sho declared, as he held his gun steadfast on the now kneeling Arashi. "Or is this just your way of trying to say that you'd prefer to die in this alley, while your dear sister never finds out what happened to you?"

Arashi said nothing as the moment of tension held him in place. He felt his own breath, heard each thump of his own heartbeat, but despite it all, he willed himself to remain calm.

Nearby, the sound of a dog barking distracted Sho for but a moment. He turned his head expecting bystanders, and in that split-second, Arashi reacted.

There was a loud crack as the gun went off, but Arashi had been fast enough to knock Sho's arm aside and avoid the bullet by a hair. He pushed forward with all his might, slamming Sho into the brick wall of the side street. Having clicked play on his music player, all Arashi needed to do was hold him down for but a few seconds more.

Arashi felt a punch across his face, and a kick to his stomach, causing him to stagger back. Sho's snide smile was now gone, replaced with an expression of pure rage as he closed his fists in preparation for a beating.

"Or maybe shooting you is too easy. Well, I haven't gotten my hands dirty in awhile, so I'll make sure to take my time." he assured the Japanese teen through his teeth, not initially aware of the music now playing in the air.

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It was when he tried to take a step forward that he realized something was very wrong. His arm wouldn't move from the wall, as is someone was physically holding him in place. Sho tried his legs but they too were stuck, firmly grappled into position.

Arashi stood up, shooting back at Sho a cold stare, as the former Yakuza realized that large, red-fingered hands emerging from the wall itself were what was keeping him still. They manifested from heart-shaped graffiti now sprayed all over the wall, and their grip was seemed unbreakable no matter how hard Sho struggled.

The music was so inconsequential to Arashi, and he addressed Sho with the same lack of emotion even as Concept of Love played in the air around them.

"I would tell you to inform God Symphony that my sister won't be accepting their offer, but I sense you won't be seeing them again in this lifetime." Arashi told him without mercy, mentally pushing his song effect to finish its deadly task.

Sho could only scream as he felt his entire body being pulled back into the street wall itself.

There was no blood, as each of his particles seems to de-atomize as they were painfully integrated into the matter of the brick and mortar.

Sho's hands grasped out weakly as the tiny graffiti-hearts with their red-fingered hands pulled him into the wall as if was the depths of hell.

But a few seconds later, and the wall itself now showed only an extravagant graffiti design of red hearts and arrows. No sign of Sho remained beyond the silver handgun he'd left behind.

Holding it in right hand, Arashi held the piece of evidence forward. Like urban gremlins, the red-fingered Sentonals grasped at the silver weapon, deconstructing it into the wall in the same manner as the human before.

Satisfied now, Arashi stopped his music, and in response, the graffiti design disappeared. Now all that remained was the blank alley wall that Sho had been standing in front of just moments before.

The transition from having just killed someone to thinking about his sister took but a second.

Nami was probably hungry by now, Arashi thought, from all her dancing at the arcade.

He would make tonight special for her. A new ramen shop had just opened by Shori-Platinum, and knowing his sister's childhood love for the dish, he had a feeling she would be more than happy to try it out.

She wouldn't leave his side just yet, no matter who God Symphony sent.

-----

Arashi's eyes snapped open.

He remained sitting cross legged among the detritus of Semi-Sound, having been pondering their situation for almost an hour.

The memories of his encounter with Sho over a year ago never became any less real.

The true reason behind their issues with God Symphony, the fact that their debt to them was Nami herself, was something that still remained with him and him alone to this day.

And though God Symphony never did make the connection between Arashi and Sho's disappearance, they had only backed off so much from their pursuit of Nami. With that old man appearing at the arcade so brazenly, Arashi knew it was only a matter of time before they made their move and took her by force if necessary.

And he could never tell Nami a word of this. It would only cause her to act rashly and take her focus away from the task at hand.

Realizing his mind was wandering too long, Arashi physically shook himself. Clearly the time for thoughts was over. He lifted himself up, suddenly feeling somewhat naked without his sunglasses.

He mentally noted to pick up a replacement pair before he tracked down Nami to the nearby arcade.

With so few of them left in this country, it fortunately made it relatively easy to pin her down.

All Arashi could think of now was how he would reconcile with her. Apologizing had never been his strong point, and right now he needed Nami to be in top form if they would have but a chance at tracking down Rob Prototype.

But as Arashi walked along, his foot nudged a seemingly innocuous instrument nearby. There was a sound of strings being strummed as they popped against the ground, and Arashi's eyes now focused on the white bass guitar that laid on the floor beside him.

That would have been it, until he saw an unmistakable detail on its pristine white surface. In the shape of a small thumb print, fresh blood stained the bass guitar's painted surface.

In the span of a few seconds, the entire fight with Rob Prototype and Michael seemed to playback in front of his eyes. He remembered each movement from the afro-headed teen, and noted his dripping blood originating from both of Nami's previous attacks.

Though he hadn't seen it, Arashi quickly inferred that even in his weakened state, Rob had attempted to use this very same bass guitar. And in the chaos, some of Michael's blood had gotten onto him, leaving physical proof of his contact with the instrument.

And physical contact for a Synkronized Music Master meant everything.

But rather than destroy it, Arashi picked up the bass in his hands, marveling at the beauty in its craftsmanship.

Suddenly this guitar had become very important.

Like some sort of glowing lure to a starving fish, it was something that even the stoic Rob would never be able to resist.

-----

Michael couldn't remember the last time he gotten so little sleep and felt this good.

For almost four hours he'd remained alone inside of the sound studio, practicing with a new song effect that he'd only decided on using out of desperation.

But there had been no fear in him when he'd Harmonized, and luckily it didn't kill him in the process.

When Michael finally emerged at 3 AM, there wasn't a single drop of sweat on his body despite the hours of dancing.

Expecting to see Colleen waiting with her arms crossed as he entered the living room, Michael kept any grin or smile off his face in an attempt to seem somewhat regretful. Anything to lessen the blow of having to explain everything.

Instead, Michael was met with the sight of his older sister fast asleep on the loveseat. She looked peaceful and uncharacteristically relaxed.

Next to her, Rob was breathing normally, now sitting up and awake.

Michael was about to open his mouth and loudly exclaim his relief, when Rob quickly put a finger to his lips. Thankfully, that was enough for his nephew to remain silent.

Motioning for his nephew to follow him, Rob walked with slow and clearly weak steps towards the soundproof studio.

When they were finally inside, and Rob clicked the door locked behind him, Michael's words seemed to come out all at once.

"Look Rob, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it. Please, please don't leave again. Colleen's already going to ki-"

Rob put a hand over his mouth as quickly as he could, though it was a somewhat joking gesture.

"This place is only so soundproof, Michael. You really want to wake her up already?" he said, before taking his hand away and brandishing a smile.

"Good point." Michael replied, now clearly more relaxed. "You feeling any better?"

"Still alive, it seems. You pulled some stunt back there." Rob commented, but Michael seemed steadfast in his defense of himself.

"Hey, if I could bamf my way out of there, I would have. You're one amazing Music Master."

As Michael smiled, Rob began to stagger. Grabbing onto his nephew, he found himself sliding down onto the polished wood floor to rest. Michael knelt down as Rob took in each labored breath before finally speaking.

"Not without my bass. That guitar...I've had it since before you were born."

Michael searched for any hint of reassurance on his uncle's face, but it was always hard to tell what he was thinking under his wide-brimmed cap.

"It can be replaced, right? Maybe if we got to Audio Empire, we can fin-"

"No! It can't be replaced!" Rob said as he cut him off. "But the next best thing is waiting for me at Semi-Sound. And the longer I spend away from it, the worse these spells are going to get. When you're Synkronized, your body craves a musical connection. If I can just get my hands on that white bass..."

Michael stood up quickly now, realizing the magnitude of the situation for once. "Are you crazy? You want to go back to the place where we both almost got killed? Tell you what, why don't I text Calvin and tell him to go get the bass for you. He'll answer once he figures out this is an emergency."

"You're the crazy one if you think I'm having any of your friends getting involved in my mistake. Besides, I still have my cassette player. I'll be fine." His uncle assured, putting his hand on Michael's shoulder as he began to stand up.

It seemed Rob was perfectly fine for the moment, his posture strong and confident. Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds for his legs to begin to buckle and Michael was holding him up for support.

"This is all my fault, Michael." Rob admitted as the weight of the situation dawned upon him. "It's my problem, and I need you here, so Colleen at least doesn't completely freak when she wakes up."

But his words just bounced off Michael. His nephew looked back at him with confidence in his eyes.

"I haven't seen you for ten years, Rob. You really think that I'm going to let you walk to your death, just like that? I know everybody thinks I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

Rob said nothing in response. He had forgotten in all these years what it was like to have people by his side like this. Faces like Seth and Lex felt like they belonged in another lifetime.

"You need backup, and you know it. So either we go together, or I go by myself." Michael declared as his ultimatum, though he was only somewhat sure Rob had no way of stopping him in this state.

If Rob was debating this decision, then Michael sure couldn't tell.

"I've been practicing all night with a new song. I think I can take that girl now." the boy added.

Rob simply adjusted his cap as he forced himself to stand up straight.

"Then we should head out now. It's our best bet at avoiding them." Rob suggested, much to Michael's happiness. He grinned wide as he opened the door to the studio.

Michael was smart enough to whisper as they quietly checked for Colleen. Thankfully, she was still fast asleep as before.

Words seemed to just roll out of Michael's mouth as they left through the lobby of Rob's building. Talking had always been his stress reliever, and this situation was no different.

"Just wait until you see this new song. Those two won't even see it coming."

Rob nodded as he allowed his nephew to continue, ignoring the pain of keeping his movements as consistent as possible.

"That girl was all talk anyway. I mean, I didn't actually fight her now that I think about it, but really, just how bad can she be?"

-----

Nami shook her head as the competition walked away. She could feel frustration building even more inside her even as she stared at her perfect score. Her former opponent, meanwhile, hadn't even come close to an eighth of her points, and they weren't even playing on Heavy difficulty. Worse yet, they didn't even look the least bit affected by their loss.

This so-called St. Marks Place Arcade had turned out to be a nest of clowns. In addition to the fakes that called themselves players, there were no people to cheer her on, nor were there any adoring fans to ask her for dance lessons or signatures on their body pillows.

As Nami sat down at a booth nearby, she buried her face in her arms. Their poor excuse for ramen remained untouched once she'd taken the first sip.

All in all, this had been the worst day ever in quite some time. As she looked up, she found herself actually missing her annoying spectators and fans. She missed Japan, she missed the lights and sounds of Shori-Platinum, and she even missed her ungrateful brother.

But most of all, she missed winning. To lose against Rob Prototype was a personal affront, and even here against these losers, victory felt beyond meaningless.

Nami hid her face back into her arms, silently praying that they had never taken this job in the first place.

An answer to her prayer came from across the table, from a voice she knew better than anyone else's.

"All is not yet lost." Arashi said in Japanese.

She looked up, narrowing her eyes angrily. Her brother sat in front of her, arms laid out in front of him and a shiny new pair of black sunglasses on his face.

"I'm sorry, Nami. I should have started with that." he admitted with his best apologetic tone. It took a few seconds, but the frown on her face shifted to a smirk.

"Eh, I was getting bored of beating everyone here anyway. So did you take out Prototype-san all by yourself?" she joked, as she chuckled through the gap in her teeth.

"Of course not." Arashi replied, his tone shifting back to be more serious. "But I need you back at the store with me. I sense he'll be back sooner than we think."

Nami was looking off into space now, joy beginning to rise in her chest as she began to fathom the thought that they might not have lost just yet. "How can you be so sure he'll be back?"

In response, Arashi picked up the white bass guitar from underneath the table. Nami's eyes widened as she noticed the spot of blood upon it, but she quickly grinned with satisfaction once the dots connected in her mind.

"This should be proof enough. I have a plan, Nami. And it accounts for his nephew, if he shows his face as well. I'm going to need you to keep him busy so I can handle Rob uninterrupted."

At the sound of her brother's words, Nami was now truly listening.

She leaned in close as she made a joyfully devious declaration in response.

"Keep Afro-kun busy? Oh Nii-san, I'll do a lot more than that..."

Fast forward to the next track...

#musicmasterscdone #musicmasters #57 art #writing #webnovel #music #teen fiction

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theconservativebrief · 6 years ago

Link

Feel that chill in the air? That’s the temperature dropping — or maybe it’s just all of the fall TV shows getting spookier!!!

It’s hard to say why this might be happening, here in late October, because it’s not as if there’s a holiday celebrating everything scary and creepy coming up soon or anything like that. But in the next few days, TV will bear the debuts of Legacies, the latest show to join The CW’s Vampire Diaries universe; Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Netflix’s revamped spin on Sabrina the Teenage Witch; and the latest season of Syfy’s underrated horror anthology Channel Zero.

Oh, also, Sundance has a new season of its fabulously frenetic German series Deutschland 86, and Netflix has imported the British series Bodyguard, the biggest drama hit the BBC has aired in ages. Amazing!

Few of these shows are truly great, and as critics, we often have limited information on whether they’ll get better. (It’s rare to unprecedented for broadcast networks, especially, to send out many episodes for review beyond the first couple.) But there’s something in all of them worth checking out, especially if you’re a particular fan of their genres.

(A note: We typically only give ratings to shows where we feel we’ve seen enough episodes to judge how successful they will be in the long term. But this week, that’s most of them, as we’ve seen full seasons of Bodyguard and Channel Zero and the bulk of Deutschland.)

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After Bodyguard premiered on the BBC in August, it quickly became the channel’s biggest drama of the year — as well as one of the biggest dramas of the last decade. As writer and director Jed Mercurio’s latest work makes the jump across the pond via Netflix, it’s clear to see why the program did so well. Despite an ultra-serious premise, the show is fun.

Richard Madden, best known as Robb Stark from Game of Thrones, stars as Sgt. David Budd, a British Army veteran assigned to protect Home Secretary Julia Montague (Keeley Hawes) after impressing his bosses by foiling a suicide bomber threat. Hawes is terrific, fleshing out a role that could have been just a caricature of a career woman, and so is the rest of the cast (including The Terror standout Paul Ready). But the series is ultimately Madden’s, who handily proves he’s capable of much, much more than brooding as King in the North.

The stresses of Budd’s job and his past are tangible in his performance, as is the fact that Budd is more than a little unstable. When he obsessively replays a tape of Julia, in which she stands by her support of the war in Afghanistan, he looks more like a villain than the hero of the story. But Bodyguard doesn’t discount the ups and downs of his emotions; unlike most male protagonists, Budd is allowed to cry, to break down, without any shades of judgment cast by the camera’s gaze.

It’s an even-handedness that makes the show’s handling of the threat of terrorism feel somewhat strange. Political intrigue abounds, as per Home Secretary Montague’s position in the government, and it only falters when the show stoops to stereotypical portrayals of Muslim people, as TV series that have anything to do with foreign policy, such as Homeland, so often do.

It’s the biggest sore spot in the show, and persistent throughout the entire six-episode season. Just when you think the plot may have finally moved past it, it circles back, and leans into it in a way that ultimately pulls the rug out from under the finale.

The rest of the show, however, is a blast: It boasts terrific performances, unpredictable twists, and a stack of fanfic-favorite tropes (if the series’ title has you thinking of Whitney Houston, you’re frankly on the right track) executed with polish and flair. Though the thread of tension crackling at the show’s center doesn’t quite make it all the way through to the end, the journey is still enough of a roller coaster to make it well worth the ride. —Karen Han

All six episodes of Bodyguard are streaming on Netflix.

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For a few seasons there, The Vampire Diaries was one of TV’s most enthralling shows. It galloped when a walk would do, and it consumed wild plot twists like fire gobbling up oxygen. Like all shows that moved at such a frantic pace, it eventually became too ridiculous, but its central character dynamics were always so compelling that it could at least lean on those.

The same can’t really be said for its spinoff The Originals or, for that matter, for its grandchild, Legacies. Though Legacies is technically an Originals spinoff because it involves a character first introduced there, it is also set in Mystic Falls, the town where The Vampire Diaries was set, and it contains plenty of sexy teenage mayhem, just like The Vampire Diaries used to offer up on the regular.

Unfortunately, the pilot for Legacies feels more like a proof of concept than an exciting introduction to a TV show. Creator Julie Plec (co-creator of The Vampire Diaries and steward of this particular universe) has come up with an idea where Hope (Danielle Rose Russell) — the daughter of two Originals characters whose blood teems with vampire, werewolf, and witch DNA — starts attending a magic school that was set up in the Vampire Diaries finale. And who should work there but Vampire Diaries fan favorite Alaric (Matt Davis)?

That could be a charming premise, especially in the hands of Plec, who never met a dangerous hookup she couldn’t tease. But Legacies spends its first episode mostly racing around, trying to get everything in place for whatever nuttiness might lie ahead. By its end, you’ll have little idea of what the show looks like, beyond the vague sense that attractive 20-somethings playing teenagers will make out a lot.

Granted, there are worse reasons to make a TV show. And I’m not even all that concerned that “angst-ridden magic school” is already the premise of Syfy’s The Magicians, one of TV’s best shows. But Legacies will need a little more time in the oven before it can be as good as its grandparent. Then again, the same was true for The Vampire Diaries, which took about half a season to iron out its kinks. Maybe we should all check back in in March. —Todd VanDerWerff

Legacies debuts Thursday, October 25, at 9 pm Eastern on The CW.

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If you missed Sundance’s Deutschland 83 when it debuted in 2015 — becoming the first German-language series to air on American television — you missed a treat. The ever-so-slightly trippy tale of a young East German man pressed into service as a spy in West Germany, Deutschland made for an enjoyable companion to something like The Americans, brimming with the passions of youth rather than the muted tensions of adulthood.

It also had more action sequences, as well as a more direct portrayal of both sides of the Cold War, with multiple stories set on both sides of the Berlin Wall. The series won a Peabody and an International Emmy, and gained a surprisingly large cult following around the globe.

The follow-up series Deutschland 86 (give yourself a point if you guessed that it’s set in 1986) reunites most of the characters from the initial series, but it has the definite feel of a sequel more than it does a second season, perhaps because three years have gone by, in our reality as well as the show’s.

It’s shifted locations — though Berlin is still important, much of this season’s action takes place across several countries in Africa — as well as deepened its themes of loyalty to country, to family, and to friends. It’s reminiscent of John le Carré’s many books about George Smiley, the veteran spy whose perspective the great novelist used to dissect the end of the Cold War.

Through the first six episodes (Sundance made all 10 available to critics — a great sign of confidence — but I only had time to screen six), 86 sometimes strains to fit every single important issue and idea of the 1980s into its narrative. There’s a storyline about the AIDS crisis that feels a little tacked on, at least so far, and the expansion of the story to more fully involve the CIA similarly feels like the show is grasping for capital-I Importance just a bit.

And yet both Deutschland seasons are tapestries more than anything else. Where The Americans was intimate, Deutschland loves to lose itself in sprawl. On some level, both of these series are about how little the forces that run the universe — be they capitalist or communist — care about the lives of those living under their thumb. It’s telling that part of 86’s political storyline revolves around various countries’ response to apartheid in South Africa, a state-sanctioned creation of a permanent underclass that ostensibly democratic governments have to be shamed into denouncing.

But in the world of Deutschland, people are always sanctioning the creation of underclasses. It’s just something humans do. The series is at its best when it captures the small, human moments that play out amid these flashes of chaos — stolen kisses and thwarted connections and pitched hand-to-hand battles. It’s not perfect, but if it strove for clean perfection, it wouldn’t be nearly as good. —TV

Deutschland 86 debuts Thursday, October 25, at 11 pm Eastern on Sundance. It will then air two new episodes per week, on Thursdays and Fridays, for three weeks, before airing its remaining four episodes on Thursday, November 15; Friday, November 16; and Saturday, November 17. If that confused you, you’re probably best off just streaming episodes as they appear on Sundance’s website. Deutschland 83 is available on Hulu.

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Syfy’s Channel Zero is one of TV’s hidden treats. Each new season of six episodes adapts a new creepypasta, those supposedly true, terrifying tales that lurk in backwater corners of the internet, like the subreddit r/nosleep. They usually take the basic idea of the story (a bizarre kids’ show, or a staircase appearing in the middle of nowhere), then filtering it through creator Nick Antosca’s sensibility, which means all three seasons of the show so far have indulged in rich ruminations on family relationships, alongside odd creatures lurching about empty suburban backstreets.

The new fourth season, The Dream Door, adapts a story by Charlotte Bywater whose premise is, more or less, “What if, all of a sudden, there was a door in your basement where there wasn’t one before?” Antosca and director E.L. Katz (who directs all six episodes) turn this question into an examination of marriage, of how little you might know about your partner, of what might be hiding behind their magic door that’s not hiding behind yours.

The two are ably assisted by Maria Sten and Brandon Scott as Jill and Tom, the couple at the story’s center, and by a terrifying demonic creation named Pretzel Jack, a contortionist clown drawn from Jill’s dreams and/or nightmares. He flings himself about the screen like a Slinky, knife in hand, all the better to stab anybody who might hurt Jill. And that number could include Tom.

If you’ve watched the other three seasons of Channel Zero, The Dream Door could feel slightly derivative, particularly of the second season, No-End House (still the series’ best). If nothing else, it only underlines how same-y so many creepypastas are. So many of these tales resemble the empty, modern homes they’re often set in, formed by the same cookie cutter but filled with ancient, primal terrors nonetheless, as if acknowledging that the scariest thing about modernity is how it numbs you in a way that distracts you from what you should really be scared of.

The Dream Door sags considerably in its midsection, but it ends well. And any time Pretzel Jack appears on screen, it’s understandable if you feel low-grade terrified. But should Channel Zero be granted more seasons (please, Syfy!), it might do the series well to leave the drab confines of suburbia that both it and creepypastas in general can feel trapped in behind. —TV

Channel Zero: The Dream Door debuts Friday, October 26, at 11 pm Eastern on Syfy. One new episode will air each night at 11 pm through Wednesday, October 31. Hey, that’s Halloween! Stream previous seasons on Shudder.

PBS’s Native America (9 pm Eastern on Tuesdays) is a massive four-part documentary miniseries uncovering the history of Native Americans across the Western Hemisphere. If you have any interest at all in this subject matter, it’s well worth checking out.

Paramount Network’s long-beleaguered TV miniseries adaptation of Heathers will finally air on American television, after several months of delay and the complete removal of one episode that was dubbed “too controversial.” It’s being burned off, two episodes per night, from Thursday, October 25, through Monday, October 29. You can also watch the whole thing on Paramount’s website. We weren’t offered screeners, but the reviews from critics who were aren’t promising.

Netflix’s big launch for the week is its new version of Sabrina the Teenage Witch now entitled Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Friday). Read our full review here.

It’s Christmas movie season on Hallmark again, with the debut of Christmas at Pemberley Manor (8 pm Eastern on Saturday). Hey, we almost made it to Halloween before Christmas movie season started. Almost!

Two brand new late-night talk shows launch on Sunday: E! and Busy Philipps’s Busy Tonight (10 pm Eastern on Sunday) and Netflix’s Patriot Act With Hasan Minhaj (Sunday). We’ve seen neither, but we wish Philipps and Minhaj only the best.

Original Source -> This week’s new TV: a Vampire Diaries spinoff and the BBC’s biggest hit in years

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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neuroticallymine-blog · 8 years ago

Text

[G]ifts

Context: Been researching NieR: Automata a lot and I came upon a really good concept art of formal clothing for the 2B and 9S Androids. https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2673645 Thus a bit of a story formulated in my mind. ---------

“Gifts are such a useless ritual.” said 2B coldly.

“Wow, okay. Where’d THAT come from?” “It’s rude to give a person something without their permission. What if they don’t want it?”

---------

“Heh...’ 9S says under his breath. ‘I hope you won’t hate me for this.” He says grinning to himself. 9S stares at the black box in front of him. Ah yes, the Black Box. Symbolic for the usage during YoRHa missions, only to be used in dire situations, along with another android’s black box, upon contact with one another would create a large scale explosion within the local area, wiping out enemy machine lifeforms and completing the missions issued by Command. But, it wasn’t that type of Black Box. No, what was in front of him was a black pendant box. Inside, a necklace. Forged from white gold, glistening to the chandelier lights above. There’s a charm in the middle of the necklace, a small clear cube lined with more white gold. Within the chambers of the cube, contained a bright diamond. Of course, to 9S, the composition and the materials, doesn’t really mean anything to him, for all he knew was Humans from the Old World cherished these items. Though, it may not make entirely much sense to him, he knew one thing; it was pretty. And hopefully 2B will think so too. He closed the box and proceeded to put it in his tailcoat’s inner pocket. In the distance, he hears to what appears to be “ballroom” music. In the hallway, he double checks himself and puts on his black visor. As he’s about to set off for the ballroom, he hears the clacking of heels in the other direction. “Oh. 9S. You’re here.”

He turns around to find. “2...2B.”

There she was, 2B. In a beautiful black dress befitting her perfectly. Along with an added flower of the Lunar Tear attached to her hairband that she always wore. Elegant and beautiful couldn’t even compare to what he saw in front of him. Yes. In front of him was...His comrade, his “friend” although 2B’ll never admit that, but more importantly, his- “Gah! My pulse rate is rising! What’s going on!? ... Huh, it seems to have normalized. How odd...” he thought to himself. After countless missions and adventures together, 9S even being a scanner model, still could not fully grasp what “love” was. After a brief moment, he relaxed and maintained his previous composure. “Wow 2B, you look...beautiful tonight.” he says as he walks closer to her. “Just, tonight?” she said coldly to tease. “Wha- I mean, no! You’re always beautiful! I mean... It’s not...” “Whatever.” a cold as ice retort.

“GAAHHH 2B!” a panicked 9S says trying to rescue the situation.

She gives a soft sigh and smiles. Her eyes relax under her visor. She reaches out for 9S’ face and caresses his cheek. 9S freezes in place. “Ah...” Without missing a beat. She ruffles his hair slightly. A small giggle emerges from her mouth.

“Aw 2B! I tried really hard to style it!” “Oh? Who were you trying to impress?” “That’s- Ah-” 9S stopped. Dead in his tracks. 2B snickers to herself. “Commander is waiting, we shouldn’t be late.”

“Yeah yeah...”

“One affirmation will suffice.”

“OH for the love of...Fine. Yeah.”

2B set of first in front of 9S. Then suddenly 9S remembered something. He remembered reading up on some old data from when Humans existed about being a “gentleman” and entering a “masquerade” as a pair.

“2B, wait!” 9S shouted.

“Hm? What is it?”

He quickly walked to meet at her side. He bent is arm to form a triangle. He gestured at her. Only to confusion. “What? What do you want me to do?”

“Oh uh, put your right hand in between my arm. I read up on some data from the Old World and this is how we’re supposed to enter one of these “masquerades” as...” his speech slows to a halt. “As what?” “As..a-a pair.”

A second pause.

2B smirks and calmly puts her hand on 9S’ arm. “Alright. Let’s go.”

--------

Realizing 2B actually complying to this. 9S fidgets slightly and then proceeds to walk side by side with 2B down the hallway. The ballroom music grows louder with each step.

9S can’t shake this uneasy feeling from him. It was the feeling of being nervous. Feelings aren’t something an android can really comprehend, especially when you have 2B barking “feelings are prohibited” all the time. But nonetheless he pressed on. Soon enough, a large white door to the left of them is wide open, with two YoRHa units also in black dresses look at the two androids. “Welcome to the YoRHa Ball. May you please identify yourselves?” asked Unit 14D. “Unit 2B.” “Unit 9S.” “Identity confirmed. Please enjoy your night you two!” said Unit 17D playfully. “We will.” said 2B.

-------

The two androids entered the large ballroom, illuminated in bright, white lighting. A large chandelier dangles within the middle of the ballroom high above the room. In front, was the ballroom dance floor. The floor was a dark brown, mahogany wood. You could see a couple of androids dancing around happily. Past the dance floor was two large curved staircases. They were covered in red carpeting. At the very top stood the Commander. She stood there dawning a stunning white dress par to her body type. 9S always thought of her as a slave driver since all she told him was one commander after another, but tonight he saw her as a beautiful woman.

“Oh is it the Commander who you’re trying to seduce?”

“2B! Would you stop it with the-”

“Negative. Unit 9S is currently searching for the affection of Unit-” “POD!” he screams at his robotic Pod companion 153, cutting him off. 9S sighs deeply. “Pod 153, I order you to halt any communications to myself or any other units concerning my current status, for the remainder of the night. Just please enjoy the night... Come on, the machine lifeform threat is gone, let’s just relax a bit, right?”

“Affirmative.” On cue, Pod 153 leaves and rejoins the other pods who are conversing in a nearby corner.

“Uggghhh...”

“Come on. We’re here to enjoy the night aren’t we?” 2B said cheerily. Which is always odd for him to hear. He’s used to the cold, authoritative tone of 2B, which is always something he liked, but this tone, was different. Though he liked it a lot.

She gave her hand a little pulse, reminding 9S that it was still there, as she looked in another direction.

He smiled. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He put his other hand over hers and proceeded to walk towards where they set down sentimental hors d'oeuvre trays and drink bowls. --------

“9S. What’s all this?”

“Oh, the Humans would tend to get hungry during events like this, so usually there would be light foods and drinks displayed out like this.” “I see.” “Wanna try one, 2B?”

“We androids have no need for things like this.”

“Oh come on. Just a small one. Plus this gives us a good chance to test our taste receptors that got installed.”

“Tch...” 2B reluctantly picks a small circle cracker. It’s smeared with a cheese topped with smoked salmon and small sprig of dill. She turns to 9S.

“Aren’t you going to try one too?”

“Huh? Oh uhhh I guess so. “ he picks one up as well.

“Bottoms up.” he says.

The two both put the small piece of food in their mouths and practice the method that humans performed known as chewing. The consumption of the food now completed. The two reflect on what just transpired.

“That tasted...” 9S said still trying to process.

“Good...” 2B said quietly.

“Yeah... I gotta give it to the Research & Development team... They did amazing with the taste receptors!”

2B slowly reached for another piece of food and consumed it.

“Liking it 2B?” asked 9S.

“It’s...quite nice. This will be useful data for the R&D team to-”

“Oh come on. Just admit it, you like it.”

“I...yes. I like it.”

“Hehe. Now was that so hard? Oh, maybe I can learn how they make it some day, I heard there’s data in these storage units called ‘cook books’, that might have the recipe for them.”

2B grins. “Sure.”

“Really? You promise?” 9S asked excitedly.

“Yeah.”

--------

The music stops.

“Attention all YoRHa Units! This is your Commander speaking!”

Without missing a beat, all units turn around and walk towards the dance floor to assume formation. The clacking of heels resonate throughout the ballroom.

“On this day. We celebrate the destruction of the hostile enemy lifeforms known as machines. It was thanks to your efforts that we have reclaimed the Seas, the Skies, the Land! Though it is no secret now, that the Aliens and Mankind no longer exist. However, that does not mean we stop fighting. We will continue to fight to protect ourselves, and the ones around us. A new age of peace has dawned upon us. There are still machines out there, but they too seek peace. I believe we can interact with them safely, and together we can create a new world. One where we can all be free! Now, go. Enjoy tonight’s festivities. GLORY TO ALL!” A synced salute from all androids. “GLORY TO ALL!”

The Commander walks away from the railing as the music resumes itself.

“Huh even when celebrating the Commander still sounds like a total slave driver...” 9S says depressingly.

“Orders are orders.”

“Yeah yeah...”

“So 9S, what do you want to do?”

“Huh? I-”

The music changes from an upbeat ballroom to a slower tune.

Realizing this. He takes a deep breath.

“2B, would you care for a dance?”

Taken a back, she hesitates formulating a response.

“Dance? But I don’t know how to dance.”

“It’s alright. I read up on some old data and there were some instructions how to do a few dances. Here let’s try.”

Being calm, 9S offers 2B his hand. She’s hesitant at first, but agrees and puts her hand in his. They slowly walk towards the center of the ballroom. As they walk, some of the androids take notice and start whispering to one another. One of the androids to notice was Unit 21O, 9S’ operator. She had quite the affinity towards 9S and to see him with 2B like that, made her pulse rate rise and mental state deteriorate slightly. She was hurt. She wanted to be with 9S so badly. She was alone, she wanted a family, with him. But alas, such is the cruel way love works. She tears up a bit before leaving her group quickly.

“Hey 21O where are you going?” asked Unit 6O, 2B’s operator.

“I...I just need to run and fix my NFCS really quick, I’ll be back.” “Oh 21O...I know what heartbreak feels like too...” said 6O to herself. 6O turns to see 2B and 9S in the center of the dance floor. Eyes wide open, her hands clasped together in excitement. Bless her pure heartedness.

--------

“9S, this is embarrassing...”

“It’ll be just for a bit I promise. Now just put your arms like mine.” He moves his arms up into position.

“Like...this?” she asks.

“Yeah. Now hold onto my hands.” She complied and held his hands.

“Good, now just follow my lead alright?” he said softly. For once he was in the commander’s seat.

“Alright.” she responded softly.

They begin to move along the dance floor in a way similar to a waltz. Staying on beat with the music (for reference, idk maybe play Vauged Hope Cold Rain in the background). At first their movements were well, robotic, but soon enough their moves became more fluid, to a point where it felt natural. The other androids continued to watch onward, as there were just 9S and 2B on the dance floor. Whispers of them being together were spreading like wildfire.

“Hey 2B, you alright?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Have you enjoyed tonight so far?”

“I have.”

“That’s good. Hey can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Will you ever call me Nines?”

“9S works fine.” she says in a playful tone.

“Heh... you’re so cold, you know that?”

-----------

“Oh hey 2B, I read that one of the dancers would lean on the other, while the other one leans backwards, it’s supposed to be---”

“Like this?”

“Ah--”

Without letting him finish, 2B dips onto 9S and instinctively raises his arm. 9S leans back on cue, a smile cracking from his face. He rises from the dip.

“Ah, usually the guy does it...”

“Oh. I see.”

She giggles. Something rarer than a blue moon.

9S smiles.

“Man... I don’t want this to end... 2B. There’s so much I want to tell you but I...”

The song slowly comes to an end. The two slowly stop and break hold.

“Aww.. It’s over?” 9S pouted.

“There’ll be other dances you know.”

“What? You mean-”

“Come on let’s get a bit of fresh air.” 2B walks ahead towards a large glass door leading to a gigantic oval balcony.

“Whoa whoa, 2B wait up!”

As 9S tries to catch up with her, girlish screams can be heard in the distance from the other androids.

“Go get her 9S.” whispers the Commander under her breath.

-------

A clear night sky, with a crescent moon high above. It would be considered a late time for Humans ~1:00 A.M. but androids don’t rest for days at time. And they only rest because of maintenance.

“2B!” 9S said finally catching up to her. He paused. Stared.

There she stood. Her arm on the balcony railing. She leaned on it sideways while looking towards the moon. The outside lanterns illuminated her skin, accentuating her pale skin.

She turned toward him.

“It seems like you’ve enjoyed the night so far.”

“Yeah I have. It feels like we’re really living.” he says as he slowly walks beside her.

He rests his back against the railing and looks at 2B.

“Hey...2B.” he said hesitantly.

“Hm?” “I know we’ve talked about this before... and I know you’re not exactly fond of these... but...”

“What is it 9S?” she asked a little bit more sternly.

“Well... I kind of got you a gift.”

“You what?”

“I got you something.”

9S slowly reaches for his tailcoat pocket to bring out a black rectangular box.

“Here. It’s for you.”

“A black box? You know we already have-”

“Ah- why don’t you open it?” he moves his hand closer to her.

She slowly opens the small box with her hand. Once uncovered, the shimmering of white gold glistens from the lights nearby. There lied the pendant.

“It’s...beautiful.”

She lifted the necklace from the box and looked at it closely.

“But how did you...”

“I asked Pascal to give me a hand. I really owe him one.”

“I love it.” 2B says softly.

“May I put it on you 2B?” 9S asks.

She smiles and nods. 9S gently takes the necklace and slowly puts it around her neck. A small click can be heard locking the necklace in place. He takes a step back.

“You look beautiful 2B.”

She pauses as if hesitant to respond.

“Thank you Nin---” “Alert. Unit 2B’s vital signals have changed. 2B’s pulse rate has risen to an irregular le-” “POD! SHUT UP!”

“Pffffff---” 9S snickers. “You shut up too!” 2B retorts. “Pod 042 I order you to halt all communications to me or any other units concerning my current status, for the remainder of the night.”

“Affirmative.” Pod 042 responds coldly, like a robot should and floats off back to the party. 2B heaves a huge sigh of relief.

“Soooo, what was that all about hmmm?” teases 9S.

“Why you...”

“Hey hey, whoaaa let’s take it easy here. No need to get angry.”

9S snickers to himself before straightening himself up.

“So... do you like it?”

“Yeah. I really do.” 2B says quietly.

“Heh. That’s good.” 9S says slightly saddened. He clenches his fist lightly.

“Well... I suppose we should back to the party huh?” He slowly gets off the balcony and begins to walk back to the ballroom.

“The Commander will start to wonder if we ditched YoR...huh?”

His hand was grabbed. A grip hard enough to not let him move. For a combat model like 2B, this was easy, and there’s no way a scanner model can beat a combat model in sheer strength.

“2...B...?”

Not saying a word. She comes closer, slowly loosening her grip on him. They’re staring at each other now. 2B slowly brings her hand up to caress 9S’ cheek. Her face slowly leans in. Closer and closer...

“Whoa is she actually going to--”

Lips. The gentle touch of her lips touched his. A kiss. A meaning of love and affection. Her forehead lightly touched his. Their hands now holding each other’s shoulders. This, this was bliss.

She slowly moved towards his ear and whispered.

“Thank you, Nines.” before moving back and laying another quick kiss on him.

She lets go of him before turning around walks back into the ballroom to meet the many screams of her fellow androids who were watching all of that go down through the clear glass windows.

9S still standing there dazed, finally came back to reality.

“Wait... did she call me Nines? W-WAIT 2B COME BACK! DOES THIS MEAN WE-”

The End.

[G]ifts

#nier automata #nier #fanfiction

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