#but maybe a sort of primal anger towards a creature made like them but without the fatal flaws

[voidfluid]

i have a headcanon that spearmaster and hunter would not get along specifically because hunter is angry that spearmaster was loved and created to thrive in their environment while hunter got stuck with the rot growing inside of them, dooming them to never survive above a handful of cycles. NSH is just bad at making organic material and hunter was always just meant to be a prototype messenger, but they don't understand why the iterator would do that, why he'd doom them to that fate.

[vivifrage]

Hello! If you still taking promps can it be 199 with PK and WL?? And if possible with your archivist PK au??

I do like archivist PK, so I’ll let this one be the last one for the round. Thanks!

This one turned out long, so putting in a cut.

---

He’d not visited her since... since everything. Since she left, since he brought the palace into the dream realm, since his newly ascended child dragged his sorry corpse back to life as soon as his mind was whole enough to sustain it.

For the longest time, nobody dared to suggest it. Perhaps they supposed he would handle the matter when he was ready, or she would hear of his presence and request him. Or perhaps the couple were through. What would Hallownest face in the event of a godly breakup?

Not much, thus far.

The one called Ghost suggested it first, via pointed looks at the Queen’s Gardens whenever he spent a moment studying a map in their presence. As the new god ruling the domain of regrets (alongside their stolen dream realm), they certainly had reason to try and bring their parents together. Let the two sort matters out.

The Hollow Knight - Hollow was the next to suggest it. Also with many long, pointed looks. At one point, they skipped right by the botanists beginning to reoccupy the Archives, instead going right to him with a fresh-picked basket of flowers from her gardens, ready for preservation and study. Their motivations were rather more mundane than godly closure. No, he suspected they just wanted their parents to be happy, and to have some semblance of a whole, unbothered family.

It was when Hornet approached him, cool and collected but with anger burning low in her eyes (as always, around him), that he began to think perhaps he ought to let himself be swayed. He could think of no reason for her to come up to him and say the White Lady would likely be amenable to his visitation, if he ever elected to stop being a coward and face the matter.

Well, perhaps she wanted to be right about something, but what, he wasn’t sure.

One of his hands clasped the front of his robe as he made his way through the Fog Canyon, towards the recently rebuilt connection between it and the Queen’s Gardens. He felt like he’d swallowed a rock - whole, that was - and the knot in his throat contrasted sharply with the lack against his collar.

They had both given up their parts of the Kingsoul. Ghost had stolen his, but what of the White Lady? Did she disdain him? Hate him, even? Had she tossed it aside like a cheap, broken trinket? He would not blame her for such a thing.

The knot grew, and came to settle deep in his chest, as he crossed the bounds into her garden. His plating itched all up and down his back; he knew all too well the consequences of entering another god’s territory. She may have been no wyrm, but she was not to be underestimated.

A flash of red caught his attention, and his breath caught. But it did not reappear, and he continued on, towards the structure Ghost had marked on a map. (Pointless, he knew where she’d hide, he could have been left with naught but his claws scrabbling through the thorns and found it.)

So at least one of his children watched.

He saw no more sign of any of them as he continued deeper into the gardens, winding down passages narrowed by thorns, through an old gazebo marked with two graves outside it, and at last towards the overgrown structure.

The grave there gave him pause. He let the name carved into it weigh on him, and reaching out, he brushed his thumb over it, whispering his... his friend’s name. One more time.

He stared down the entrance, claws flexing nervously. This was it. His last chance to retreat, like the coward his daughter had accurately accused him of being. He’d deal with them later; this would only be one small slight against grievous horrors.

He thought he felt eyes upon his back. Tucking his wings in close, he sighed. So be it.

He climbed in, and sought her out, guided by the glow of her roots.

By the time he’d reached her chambers his heart beat against his chest, some primal thing. His throat went dry, words escaped him. He saw her, her glow, the tangle of her roots upon the floor, the healing wound where his children had cut an entrance big enough for Hollow to come in and visit their mother.

He wanted her.

By the earth and stars and rivers, he loved her, so much that tears filled his eyes, and an emptiness ached within him. How had he ever survived the lonely years without her?

She didn’t respond to him. Not yet.

So he took one unsteady step into her chambers.

Another.

And another.

One after another, his feet tapping against the dirt and old roots. He opened his mouth, found himself still unable to speak.

Her head turned, as much as it could all bound up, and his breath left him. It was her. Truly her, as beautiful as she had always been, as graceful and serene. The same supple yet strong bark, the same blue eyes - albeit cloudier than before - and the same perfect curves to each tendril.

“One approaches,” she said. Simple, guarded, on the defensive.

One.

Nothing could stop it. He gasped in a breath and found he could only cough it out as the tears welled and poured freely down his cheeks. She didn’t recognize him. Or she did not wish to.

He’d fallen so far, to be naught but a stranger to his own beloved wife.

He wished to speak, should have spoken, or maybe left. But he found himself frozen, sobbing until his eyes itched with the futile effort to dry his tears, his cheeks and jaw and mandibles wet, the taste of salt biting at his tongue.

He tried, a couple times, to say something, anything. Yet he couldn’t even gather his thoughts enough to press them into her mind, let alone coordinate his failing mind and mandibles.

He curled up, his tail wrapping around his body, huddled as small as he could manage. As if doing that would spare what little dignity he retained.

“Not my child,” she said with certainty. From what he could see through tear-blurred vision, she leaned forwards and squinted. “Nor is the interloper Hornet, she would have spoken her business by now. As would the mortals she now commands. This one has a striking familiarity, yet I cannot-”

“My Lady,” he begged, hands uncurling from his face to reach for one of her tendrils, to hold it and to kiss as far up its length as he could manage, in that way that always left her giggling. “My Lady, I-”

He froze. Who was he, to call her his? To put such a thing upon her, when she had already removed what little shackled her to him? For the sake of her freedom (what little could be gained, now she’d become so deeply rooted), he ought to be nothing.

The tears sprang anew. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

Her blinking grew more rapid. Her head swung uselessly, and she shifted in her seat. Tendrils freed themselves, curving through the space until, at last, one cupped his chin.

And then, for a moment, it all stopped.

“My Wyrm?”

He opened his mouth, only for a rattling keen to come out. His tears dripped freely to the ground, stained grey with Void. Her tendrils found him and he clung to one as he collapsed, forced down by the weight of it all, left useless as he sobbed.

She stroked his back, the underside of his chin, his cheek. She brushed the tears away, accepted the clumsy, apologetic kisses he pressed to her tendrils when he could get a moment’s respite.

And she waited it out. All the tears, all the choked keens and sobs, all the undignified coughing. Like the patient, thoughtful being she was.

“Oh, my Wyrm.” Her tendrils drew him in, ushered him closer, closer, until he stood at her base, where her sightless eyes could peer down at him. “I’ve missed you.”

“My- dearest Lady.” His claws dug into the bindings wrapping her, so tight they threatened to break the sturdy fabric. Everything hurt, his head and heart and soul. “Why would you miss me? Why not be angry, at what I have done? Surely- surely it would be better than the grief, the tears.”

She sighed, like she did when he’d spent too long working on a project, and now could hardly walk back to their room without almost passing out on the floor. Like she had done many times, before she finally elected to leave. “It is not so simple a matter, my Wyrm. I myself grieve these acts, and must take my repentance for them.”

He shook his head, the side of his face brushing a tendril. “Please, love, know it was I who did this to all of us. Your grief is misplaced, let me take its brunt.”

“Oh, my Wyrm,” she breathed, “Such a solitary creature you are, to accept all the blame in the world. You alone did not consent to the plan, nor did you conceive and bear our children’s eggs singlehandedly. You were not even the only enforcer of the rules surrounding the Pure Vessel.” Her tendrils pressed into the corners of his jaw. “My love, you were not even the one to request our child take the plague into themself, to suffer as our Hollow Knight did.”

A tendril slipped from between his fingers. “But I- I-”

Another pressed his mouth shut. “Hush, my love. We have both made our errors. Let us grieve them together, cursed by hindsight.”

He sighed, all the air rushing from him as she drew him up onto her lap. “Anything, for my Lady.”

She stroked his temple. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard those words.”

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Oh henry! im here to help you a bit on this journey through hell. have you heard about a death coin? they cost 10 faztokens! here, lets just set Golden freddy to 1 so you can get used to this mechanic. I believe you can get used to this very quickly! also hi luci ily platonically v much.

(If you were Impostor in Among Us, I’d let you vent in front of me and never tell <3 Also while what you’re going after is totally canon, it’s a red herring, will make sense to literally nobody except one specific friend and is pure self-indulgence, so uuuuuh, feel free to skip this one)

“Yes, I have already heard of those.” Henry raised an eyebrow. “I even used one of them. They are rather intuitive in their design- though I suppose I appreciate your help.” With only Golden Freddy out and about, it was a rather quiet night, time for him to think. Frankly, he would feel bad about harming Fredbear. Even in this odd suit form, it was still… his suit. … yes, indeed, it was hardly even Fredbear at all, at least not how the children had portrayed their savior. Just a dirty, mistreated suit. But it was STILL his suit. Hell, how abandoned it was- it was quite upsetting to him, despite everything. Part of him wished he could make the being stop being hostile in order to give it a good scrub- Well, perhaps the coin could aid with that. He wasn’t even sure if it did the same thing for every machine, so trying it out would be worth it. The coins were quickly gathered, seeing as as long as he was looking at the screen, the suit left him alone, most of the time… and even if the creature entered, it would not attack. At least it kept its mainly peaceful nature from before. A lot else about it had changed- not visually, but in the atmosphere it gave off. Old and dusty, it was soulful, but so tired and washed out. No child he had ever met had a soul like that, no matter how battered and bruised they have been by the marks of fate. And if they did, they weren’t attached to anything for long, melting into the walls, finding their peace. This creature held offensive abilities on par with Charlie’s psychokinetic talents, as well as the defensive ability to vanish at will, as Fredbear always had and he was as silent as- The dog. Alas, for now it seemed to be his prison warden. Maybe eradicating it would even give him the chance to leave… Finally, enough coins were together. The procedure was as easy as confusing- he bought the coin and it showed up in the corner on the screen, as always. Great. Now how would he use it in the office…? Pulling down the monitor, the suit was nowhere to be found, yet- A silver coin on his table. Huh. Slowly he picked it up, letting it sit in his hand. It felt hot and every second he held it, it was getting worse and worse, to a point where Henry wondered if he was the one who would be disintegrated now. Dazed he watched the coin shine and glow, not really capable of lowering his hand and putting it down- It was as though he wasn’t in control of his own body anymore, as though he had accidentally left it in every way except the eyes, completely enraptured in the silver shimmer- Until he snapped out of it. Peeling off the coin from the palm of his hand, he looked at the brandmarked, crossed out D that was now visible within it. A chuckle broke out of his throat. Almost hysterical. Friendship with Dave ended. Now murdering is my best friend. God his head was a dizzy mess, even though ventilation was doing fine. A hat. On the table. Black. Reaching out, Henry put it on- it felt like the only right thing to do. Time to get this thing done. Pulling the monitor up and down, he waited for the bear to dare show his face- There he was. For a split second he looked into its tired, black eyes, filled with nothing, nothing that he would be able to recognize, then flipped the coin towards him. “Fetch.” To his surprise It did. Easily grabbing the coin out of the air. The creature stood up, shining golden- No, not SHINING. The- the opposite. It seemed to consume the light around it, plunging everything into darkness, so that only the golden fur seemed to be there, a burning contrast to everything else- However, Henry couldn’t really make any judgement more than that, as he was abruptly picked up by the throat and screamed at, a scream that he had never heard a machine make before. Loud enough to shatter eardrums, primal enough to send cold fear through anyone’s spine and abnormal enough to echo- as though there was NOTHING around them, nothing but tall, cold, smooth walls- As if nothing he saw was real- Abruptly he had been flung downwards, his head painfully colliding with the floor and dazing him for a moment, while the giant figure loomed over him, leaning down to him, finally speaking. Hoarse and deep, it sounded like a growl, yet it was barely more than a weak, jumbled whisper. “… THERE WAS MORE FANTASY AND FUN WHERE I CAME FROM…” Struggling to keep his mind together, Henry stared up into the glowing small dots above him. What- What was this creature? It was- Unfamiliar- Strange- “You are… not… from here-“ Coughing, he tried to sit up, his arms feeling weirdly numb. “You are from- elsewhere. How. Who brought you here-“ The voice was too adult- and it wasn’t the detective, the detective had been the only case of an adult human managing to remaining without any outside help- so, WHO was this?! And where did it come from?! Once more Fredbear picked him up, the body shaking with rage, grabbing him right by the head carelessly. “Say it- say what you are- where you are from- are you some sort of- angel!?” The creature paused, but it was hard to see what its- his- face looked like. “No, no, you are too far- away from god in this place- are you a demon?” The grasp around his head instantly tightened, turning into blinding pain, enough to make him bite off the tip of his tongue in an attempt to suppress of any sort of noise. Blood, pain and numbness made his words less understandable, but his mind was buzzing loudly, filled with thoughts and concepts, that he wanted answers to, that he wanted to test, that he HAD to speak out- The only one in THIS suit, the only true Fredbear that had ever been around- “Are you- me-” From somewhere else?! Again there was a small pause- Then the bear growled once more. “YOU CAN GO AND REST NOW. I WILL ASSUME YOU HAVE BEEN CURIOUS, NOT MALICIOUS. IF YOU WILL TRY TO HARM ME AGAIN… IT WON’T BE SO QUICK.” As Henry faded, a child’s offended voice sounded. “What?! Goldie, that’s all?! I thought you would-!” When Henry woke up, he abruptly breathed in, a sense of panic shortly covering his mind, as for a second he thought he was underwater, drowning- But as his eyes started to focus on the tv screen in front of him, the rest of his body managed to calm down too, enough that he could stand up, with shaky legs. The fear disappeared quickly, only confusion remaining. Nothing bad had happened. Or rather- nothing too bad. Turning he eyed the suit who was sitting on the couch, eyes empty- not shining anymore- and dirty once again… but this time radiating a sort of intense anger. For a moment Henry considered trying to pick up where they left off- … however, for now he didn’t feel quite… ready to risk that rage once more. His actions had been calm. But there was something, something that none of the five senses could perceive, regardless of how hard they tried, not together, not alone… … and it was warning him STRONGLY against approaching this being. Regardless of what it was- it surely wasn’t him, he wouldn’t do this to himself, he just hadn’t been thinking- it was not something that should be taken lightly. The threat had been real. And it seemed to at least partially capable to influence the world around him. Fall back, overthink. He would figure a way out to use this. Somehow.

[gold-eyes-vengeful-heart]

Falling Stars

((Or: the end of the battle.

Continued from here. 

Contains 5.2 spoilers! Part 2 of a 2-part fic. More heavily features Sorin, belonging to @aetherstitch !))

===

Runya was shunted out of his own body so quickly that it was disorienting. And all the noise, all the screaming from Blue and the roars of the monster that had been hiding in the Ruby Weapon and the frantic dying calls of the enemy pilot as her mind was smashed like so much vilekin--all of it just stopped, replaced by an unfeeling darkness.

Damn it. This was a miscalculation, wasn’t it?

Without his body running rogue, panicking as Blue panicked, he could actually focus and with practiced, detached ease, took stock of what was going on. He recognized that feeling of disconnect--it was exactly the same as before, in the lab, whenever they tested him for resistance to mental control of all kinds. Not that they had ever intended for the reaction in question to be his mind getting cut off from his body (basically passing out without actually passing out), but it had been deemed more acceptable than, say, being brainwashed by a primal--

But that was beside the point. Blue had apparently tripped it, and so he was stuck here for the time being until Blue stopped rampaging.

And he was indeed very sure that Blue was rampaging. He got a single glimpse of Blue trying to crunch the not-Nael’s head off at the neck with his heavy jaws before he was...unceremoniously kicked out of Blue’s head, after all.

Great. Just great. And he could only hope that Blue didn’t lose his mind so thoroughly that he started trying to eat their...well, allies was a strong word for it, mind, but still, the thought remained.

(He had better not do anything to Sorin--)

But he also couldn’t do anything to him for doing anything to Sorin, either, could he? He was just a lone mind in the depths of total sensory deprivation--it was only through prior experience with the sensation was keeping him from going completely mad, and even then, he kept hallucinating on and off...

...Or were they hallucinations, really? Hallucinations involving burning cities and boiling oceans and endless arrays of comets falling from the sky and reaving everything below them with mindless destructive fury wasn’t generally something he saw in situations like this, after all. It made too much sense, for one.

He caught a glimpse, suddenly, of Blue crunching down on a smaller Nael-like creature before he was cut off yet again, and just for a moment, he started to chide Blue for that--he didn’t know where that thing had been--before realizing that oh, yes, Blue couldn’t hear him, still.

Gods above and hells below, he hated this interminable wait to get back into his own body. Floating about as just a mind was unpleasant, of course, but also infinitely boring, even with more than enough to think over with those...recent events. 

(What had that entire nonsense with the Nael-thing suddenly sprouting up out of the Ruby Weapon been? Last he understood, auracite did not do that, even the synthetic kinds that the Empire was fond of. And what exactly had they meant but uploading “combat data” into their Weapons, anyway? With what he knew of the Empire’s fondness for the most amoral option possible, he couldn’t help but think that they were trapping souls or brains or something equally disturbing inside machina.)

(...Why didn’t Blue operate like that, despite being a Weapon in and of himself? Even the Ultima Weapon hadn’t had anything uploaded but just been piloted.)

(Then again, even comparing Blue to the Ultima Weapon didn’t seem right. The Ultima Weapon and these other Weapons seemed powered by eating primals, and Blue...at least as far as he understood...wasn’t. Even the Allagan records that Sorin had borrowed from G’raha had been puzzled about the notion, so what was he really--?)

A pinprick of light appeared right in the middle of his field of vision and grew at a truly alarming rate. Finally, maybe Blue was going to stop panicking just long enough for him to get back into control--

He barely had regained consciousness before he was unceremoniously dumped right out of the cockpit and onto the ground with a heavy thump.

He yelped as it made his already-hurting body flare with even greater pain, and landing awkwardly on his back didn’t help that at all. “Blue, what in the name of--?!” But he didn’t get any answer; the Weapon’s response wordlessly slopped around his chest and it burned with still-high-strung exhaustion in a way that left him grabbing at his side. “Get back here!”

They were at the lake, he could see now, and he could also see Blue limping towards it. The armor at his side was still torn open but--was that crystal leaking from the gaps? It flowed like liquid but completely against gravity, coating the gaping hole and solidifying just as Blue started to sink beneath the water. 

“Blue, don’t run off from me.” He staggered back up to his feet, but the Weapon wasn’t listening and just dived. “Blue!”

But Blue sank completely and he had to dodge backwards a little to avoid the waves sent up by the Weapon’s dive. He drove his thoughts outward, pitching them like a spear at where Blue had disappeared to, but his attempt at contact was just as quickly rebuffed, and again, and again, as he tried fruitlessly to get Blue to talk to him, only to be met with glacial silence.

In fact, he barely even noticed the roar of Iron Sights’ machina approaching until it practically landed right on top of him.

--

Runya wasn’t looking at either of them, sitting with his arms crossed in the chair and pointedly staring at the ceiling of the tent instead of at the Roegadyn and other Miqo’te sitting across from him.

Sorin spoke again, not moving his stare an ilm off of him. “So you don’t know why he...did that?”

“I’ve told you already multiple times: no.” Runya’s voice, hoarse as it was, betrayed his tired annoyance with this whole interrogation, and he closed his eyes. “As far as I can tell, he simply panicked when that...thing popped out of the Ruby Weapon like a daisy and started flinging meteors everywhere. If you insist on knowing why he didn’t like it, I suggest you ask him yourself--if you’re even able to talk to him. He certainly won’t talk to me.”

“Runya...” Sorin audibly ran his hand down his face. “He shredded that thing.”

“Even people do strange things when they’re scared. I’m not sure why a Weapon would be any different.” His eyes suddenly snapped back open and locked onto Sorin’s. “And you mean to tell me that we just let those Au Ra go instead of, hmmm, shooting them or something actually intelligent? We could have put at least a temporary stop to this whole thing--”

“We were a bit distracted, Runya, with the angry thrashing Weapon nearby.”

Iron Sights suddenly sighed, though, with a clanking as she flopped back in her own seat. “Well, my Miqo’te compatriots, the point more is that we actually did stop that nasty thing, at least. Even if our big, ah, dragon friend didn’t appreciate being hit with a bunch of meteors by that absolute bitch--”

“Language, Roegadyn.”

Sights snapped her head over towards Runya fairly quickly, though, for that, raising a brow. “Uh huh. That’s probably the nicest thing I could call the...reincarnation?...of the arse that nearly killed the world. But anyway, I’m sure he’ll stop sulking eventually?”

“I have to agree.” Sorin did, however, sound a little reluctant on that point. “Though it’s alarming that he can run out of control so quickly even with a pilot as attuned to him as Runya.”

Sights shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, but even while he was looking at us like he was going to eat us, he didn’t, did he? Think he’s a bit more attached to you than you let on, Sorin.”

Runya, at that point, thought it prudent enough to interrupt. “Mad or not, he’s still an invaluable resource against these things. You told me yourself when you spoke about that confrontation between those Au Ra and dear Baelsar, Sorin my friend: there’s more than one, and I have no doubt that you won’t have long before we see the next. Especially if you didn’t simply kill the pilots while you had a chance.” He sat up, shoving down his own irritation and anger at the others for allowing such an escape and falling right back into his easy smirk. “Maybe watching all of his dear children getting mauled, their minds ripped out, and their bodies messily fused to death with Weapon cores might actually teach Legatus Baelsar some empathy?”

Sights grimaced, but Sorin shook his head vehemently. “Runya, don’t. There’s nothing to be enjoyed about such a fate.”

“Even that of an enemy?”

He just raised his brows at that, though. “Runya. I will not have this argument in circles for the rest of our lives. They need to be stopped, not tortured.”

“As you wish.” But when Runya waved a hand dismissively and got to his feet, Sorin bristled slightly. “But first we need to get Blue back to us. He took...some amount of damage in that last battle, and I’m afraid him lurking around at the bottom of the lake isn’t going to help him much.”

“...Alright.”

With that response, Runya finally got to his feet, though it was a slow and creaky sort of motion with how his entire everything still hurt from the activation earlier. (He had already gotten enough of a lecture on how silly that had been, though, so all Sorin did was raise his brows meaningfully at him and left it at that.) “Then if you’ll excuse me, I am going to nap. Then we can go visit him.”

And hopefully they hadn’t just traumatized him too badly to talk to them anymore. But there was only one way to find out, was there?

[redsdesktop]

Nameless Week: Protecting Each Other.

Pairings: Red x Green/Blue Oak. ( I use Green. )

Warnings: None.

AU: Werewolf. Wanted to do Supernatural themes in prep for Halloween.

Red had always been a bit... different. Noises were too loud, smells were too strong, being crowded made him feel the frightened desire to run away. His mother said he took after his father, he hadn't understood what that meant until later on in his life, thinking she just meant the unusual color of his eyes or the way he wanted to just be by himself. It wasn't that he ever liked being alone, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap between himself and the other kids he met, he was just too different, too strange that he could never connect. So he often explored outside by himself, preferring the outdoors rather than being stuck inside, it made him feel trapped despite how much he loved being with with adoring mother.

It was one day when he was climbing a tree, he accidentally stumbled across the fact the tree he was climbing was a nest for kakunas, he'd studied Pokemon enough to know what that meant even at an early age. He tried to slowly climb down the tree to avoid detection, but it was too late, the beedrills that had been slumbering up in the higher branches had spotted him. He scrambled down the tree, falling part of the way down and he landed with a heavy thump on the ground, pain splintered up his arm as he landed hard on his wrist, he'd reached out on instinct to catch himself and only ended up making it worse. He didn't have time to cry as the buzzing sound of wings reminded him to run.

Holding his broken wrist to his chest, he ran in fear, not daring to look back as he knew he wouldn't likely outrun the angry beedrills but he still had to try. When his foot caught an upraised root, it sent him sprawling out over the ground, skidding the bottom of his chin and his elbows, making his eyes water. Instinctively, he curled up into a fetal position with his hands over his head to protect himself. But the stings never came, instead an angry voice shout out, too loudly, making Red wince. "Get outta' here, you jerks!" Red peeked out from behind his arm to see a strange boy, waving a bottle of super repel, spraying wildly at the bug type Pokemon. It seemed to have worked as the beedrills reeled back, giving in since they had been successful in at least chasing Red away from their hive.

That was the day he met Green, even though he was loud and highly energetic, the other boy was persistent in being Red's friend. He didn't know why, but Green never seemed wary of him like the other kids, not knowing that it was his heritage that instinctively labeled him as a predator among others. Green had no fear, taking the lead on their childhood adventures, teaching Red things that he hadn't known, explaining that Green's grandfather was a Pokemon Professor and he'd been taught all sorts of cool facts about Pokemon from the man. Red quietly watched and listened to Green, it wasn't until they were almost into their older digits that things began to change. Green became more aware of the rumors around Red, how Red was a freak and something was just off about him that gave the other kids goosebumps. In turn, they felt Green was weird for hanging out with the mute, shunning the boy who wanted and craved attention and recognition.

By the time it came for them to start their real Pokemon adventure, Green had all but shoved Red away, but Red was understanding, he knew his friend well enough to understand what was going on. He would always treasure their time together, but now it was time to move on to the second stage in their life. Red simply craved the freedom to explore while Green craved to be the best. On their travels, they bumped into each other, maybe it was fate, Red wasn't sure but he'd like to think Green was waiting for him, to challenge his new claimed rival. It was really the only acceptable way for them to interact, while Red wanted to just lose to Green, to let him have his happiness, something in him wouldn't allow him to take it easy on his former friend. It would be like lying and the only way he could motivate Green to become stronger, he thought, was to give it his all. Time and time again, Red won, not knowing that he was slowly creating a monster.

At the time, he should've left Green with his title, but he knew he couldn't, he had to see if Green was worthy, to test his skill and knowing Green wouldn't be satisfied without beating Red at least once. However, Red had once again come out on top and became champion, a position he didn't even really want, especially after seeing how furious Green was when he stormed out and Red remained as silent as always. However, being a champion was more than just claiming a title and returning to adventure, reporters and fans crowded him, hounding him for answers and pictures, something inside him clawed in a desperate attempt to escape. He was suffocating and he needed to leave before he did something he'd regret and lash out in his growing frustration, like a cornered animal.

Within a day of winning the Champion title, Red disappeared and wasn't heard from in years.

It was only until a kid from Johto had decided to brave Mount Silver and climb to the top that the rumor leaked. Mount Silver was known for its dangerous weather, powerful Pokemon, and its winds that howled eerily in the night. No one dared to climb too far up the mountain, except for one crazy kid with the thirst for a challenge.He'd come face to face with a man in tattered clothing, standing like a statue in the snow, watching him with red eyes that pierced through the heavily falling snow, watching him almost like a predator would. Their Pokemon battle was wild, aggressive and untamed, never before had the kid fought against such a dominating opponent and it was surprise when he finally won in the end. But before he could ask anything, the snowfall built into a blizzard, obscuring his sight and the trainer seemed to disappear into thin air.

Hearing this news, Green, without a doubt, knew who it had been. A ghost from his past that he'd thought had faded from his memory only to return so suddenly, it left him reeling. Without thinking, he knew he had to climb Mount Silver and rushed out of his house, only pulling on his jacket. His mind was a mess, for years he'd regretted what he'd done, for years he'd seethed of what Red had done. Now that he was older, his anger had faded, leaving him with just memories of his past. He didn't think of what he would do when he found Red, he just knew he had to find Red, had to see him again. As he climbed higher and higher, stumbling blindly through caves and struggling with the thinning air, he'd began to realize several mistakes he made in this crazy desire to see Red again. For one, he'd forgotten to grab his belt with his pokeballs, he'd just be pure lucky not to have been attacked by a wild Pokemon.

Secondly, it was freezing cold and all he had on was his light weather jacket which barely kept the wind from hitting his body. The snow up here was thick, sticking to his cargo pants and soaking them as they weren't water proof. He was going to die up here just because he had some crazy desire to see Red again, fearing that at any moment something bad could happen to his childhood friend.He needed to find shelter from the wind and snow as he wrapped his arms about himself, trying to trap as much warmth as he could to his body.There. In the distance was a dark splotch among the white landscape, giving Green a burst of hope and energy as he tried to hurry up towards the cave that offered safety. Once he stumbled tiredly inside, he collapsed to the ground, falling back onto his backside so he could rest and try to catch his breath in this thin air.

What Green had thought was a safe place to rest, turned out to be wrong as a low growl rumbled from further inside the cave. Green's head Snapped up with alarm, his body freezing up in more ways than one as he stared into the darkness, trying to see what had made such a noise. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet in preparation to run, but that had seemed to be the wrong choice as a grizzly Ursaring charged forward to blindly attack the one who had entered his territory. Green scrambled back, his feet tangling in a panic and causing him to fall straight back onto his ass again. Pain shot up his spine, momentarily dazing him and he knew he was a goner and mentally cursing himself in his last moments. The bear roared again, though, he thought it was the ursaring roaring and he braced himself for impact.

Instead, a quick breeze ruffled his spiky brown hair from behind as something soared over him and then there was a sound of a heavy struggle before him. Cracking open one eye he'd closed in fear, he was surprised to see the Ursaring fighting and defending itself against a Pokemon Green had never seen before. It was canine, large and with rich dark brown fur that almost looked black in the low light of the cave. It definitely looked bipedal, though looked like it could switch from two legs to forth limbs with ease. Whatever it was, the wolf-beast was savage, frothing at the mouth as those powerful jaws snapped at the thick fat of the Ursaring, taking the swipes from the bear without even noticing. Finally, it was clear who the winner would be as the bear decided to take the lose in territory and ran past Green and out into the snow and cold. Suddenly making Green very aware he was left with this monster of a Pokemon who'd soundly kicked a Ursaring's ass.

That massive, broad head turned, red eyes seemed to settle on Green with an unnerving focus, something that said that this wasn't just a animal lacking intelligence or ruled by primal instincts. Still though, Green scooted back in fear until his back pressed against the cave wall. Seeing this, the wolf turned his head away, looking almost hurt by the action. Since the creature wasn't attacking him and instead decided to just lay down on the stone ground, Green could make out something strange. The Pokemon was wearing clothes, or what little remained of clothes, jeans and a black shirt from what it looked like. Though it only confused Green more, but with the way the beast was looking at him with its own confusion and maybe even concern?

Green shivered and huddled into himself, it was still cold, he didn't know what would kill him first, the weather or this Pokemon. Seeing this obvious sign of cold, the beast moved, standing up and moving over in its smooth gait and instead of eating Green for lunch, the wolf instead curled up around Green. It reminded the trainer of how his eevee would curl up in his lap during cold nights, but this Pokemon was bigger than his eevee... and much warmer. Cautiously, he reached out, sinking his hands in the coarse outer layer of fur before his fingers found the softer dense inner layer of fur. The warmth slowly drew feeling back into his frozen fingers and the Pokemon seemed to sigh out in relief. It didn't seem like Green would be lunch and the wolf had in fact saved him from being mauled by the ursaring.

Tired and cold, Green leaned forward, resting his face against the soft cushion of fur, the heat radiating from the Pokemon slowly began to lull him asleep. He couldn't help to feel strangely safe, even though this was a wild Pokemon who had shown its strength to fight off a fully grown and angry ursaring. As he drifted asleep, he couldn't help but wonder how Red managed to live out here in such dangerous conditions. When Green found him, he would drag his friend back down home with him and make sure he never did anything stupid like this again.

Green didn't know how long he slept, but he still felt tired regardless, his entire body sore from sleeping on the hard ground instead of his state of the art sleep number bed back home. At least he was warm as he snuggled closer to the source of such warmth, burying his cold nose against a broad chest, slowly beginning to realize he was no longer resting his head on soft fur but something human. His eyes snapped open immediately in alarm as he became aware of strong arms curling about his waist, of rough fingers brushed just beneath the bottom part of the back of his shirt, against skin. It was intimate. Too intimate. He shoved himself off the man he'd been laying on for who knows how long. His hazel eyes wide in surprise and anger to cover up the flustered tint to his cheeks. He was about to rant and rave at the creep who snuck up on him when he suddenly actually took in the face of the man beneath him.

Red eyes peered up at him, unblinking and as steady as always, making Green forget was he was about to say. Red was no longer the scrawny little boy he'd once known, this was an adult. Weathered and built for survival on such a harsh place, still though his tussled hair remained the same, never to be tamed. It was the same color as the wolf, the same way the wolf had looked at him. He wanted to deny it, something like that wasn't real, only in books and movies. Green knew the truth though, knew Red had always been different, but that didn't matter. He'd been the one to protect Green, even if he had looked like a monster, he was still Red. His raised his hands, framing the other male's handsome face, receiving a cautiously hopeful look that Green returned with a hesitantly cocky grin.

"You're coming home with me. As long as you don't chew up the furniture."

[marki-trash-blog]

Cold Rarity (Pt. 2)

(y/n) was plummeting into darkness, but something was wrong. It was like all was still, yet some unsettling doubt pushed them over the edge into an endless fall. The jolted awake, they weren’t comfortably nestled away by their hoard as they wished they were, instead, this setting was entirely different from home.

(Y/n) shot up from their position lying down and looked at their appendages, arms… hands… they were still stuck in their partially human form. Looking around they found they were laying on a plush, round mattress with an assortment of other pillows and blankets for comfort. The room was decorated in a black, white and burgundy theme, it was simple, yet regal and imposing. Clearly the owner of these things was not lacking in wealth.

(y/n) began fidgeting with one of the golden tassels on a cushion while continuing to observe. They made their way from the black walls to the large square window directly across from their spot on the ground, displayed on it an astonishing view. (y/n) gawked at the panorama, the lights of the town below them, and farther away the forest, even farther the land they had ruled for so long, the bright, round moon shining above it all. As they admired it, they realized a key question they should be asking themselves.

Why are they here?

Memories began to surface, running, the Dark king, pain, passing out on the cave floor. Suddenly, the room wasn’t nearly as welcoming anymore, it was alien, it was unknown. (Y/n)’s instinct to run kicked up again, but upon shifting around they heard the clinking of chains and now noticed the weight around their neck was a restraint chaining them to the wall. Dammit, they were trapped.

The window seemed to mock them now, as they stared off into the freedom they couldn’t possess. (y/n) wrapped their tail around themselves and made themselves smaller, also covering up with their wings. They were a young dragon, they had been lucky and spoiled, now they were stuck in this predicament. The neck restraint might’ve bruised by this point, it was certainly not comfortable, and while trying to make the room just a bit colder (y/n) found their powers were now inactive as well.

Dark knew what he was doing, they were being left to stir in their own thoughts. (y/n) stretched their wings and flapped a small bit, noticing the would they had before was no longer present. They replayed his words, the deal they had made without truly thinking, mind cloudy from pain. The room was rather barren beyond their bed on the ground, although there was a chair next to the window, unoccupied at the moment.

(y/n) found themselves startled as the door to their left opened, a dreadfully familiar face showing itself. The man was dressed in a gray suit with a burgundy tie, black dress shoes finishing the look. He held something in his hands but (y/n) didn’t get a good look before he stuffed it in his pocket neatly. He had a warm smile on his face, almost pleasant, but it was predatory and simply couldn’t mean good for (y/n). He sat on the chair, looking out the window pensively before quickly snapping back to (y/n), eyeing them over hungrily, taking in every detail.

“You are truly a beautiful creature darling.”

He trailed off, they simply sunk more into themselves if that was even possible. Something about this man, it was intimidating, nothing had ever made them cower, yet in the face of this king they behaved like a frightened, cornered animal. (y/n) tried speaking but a hoarse whisper came out at first, before they truly formulated a sentence.

“What do you want?”

Dark chuckled in satisfaction, easing and making himself comfortable on the chair, taking in their change in demeanor. “I got what I wanted, you, love.”

His voice was deep and booming, it struck something primal inside, a heightened instinct of fear like nothing before. (y/n) swallowed dry and sat up straight, trying to stand to his level as much as they could.

“But what… what do you want with me? I know of kings that would give anything to have me publicly slaughtered like an animal, I’m still alive… Why is that?”

The man grinned. “Well, I believe I shouldn’t leave such power and beauty to waste, although, who said I wouldn’t treat you like an animal? I can do what I want and if so I wish then as such it shall be.”

He was like a spoiled child, so terribly arrogant, but he was clearly in control of the situation, nothing could be done one (y/n)’s part. They shook slightly in fear, but tried to keep their composure. “What am I then? A glorified pet?”

He seemed to debate it for a second before speaking once more. “I suppose that could be an accurate description, think of it this way, your every need will be catered to, I offer shelter and care, all I ask of you is obedience. Simple, right?”

They didn’t respond, simply eyed him suspiciously.

“I took care of that wound for you, did I not? You should be grateful, I can still just give you away to one of the other kingdoms, the universe knows they want you dead. Think about it, isn’t this a much better fate?”

(y/n) knew he was right, it pained them, why must he be right. They solemnly nodded and sighed. “What’s your name?” they tentatively asked. Maybe they’d get solace in directing their anger towards a name, all they really knew was that he was the Dark king.

“Dark, but you will address me as Sir, understood?” He looked over their tail quietly, seeing the iridescent white scales meld into the black ones as he awaited a response.

“Yes… sir…” (y/n) felt their pride be crushed every second they remained in this room with him.

“Good pet.” He grinned in satisfaction, such an egotistical bastard.

“Now dear, I have a few… questions. You’ll answer them quickly for me, yes?” He placed his hands on his lap and stared them down as they hastily nodded.

“Good. Let’s start with some common courtesy, what’s your name?” He looked over their wings as (y/n) tried to sit straight, desperately attempting to display a pride that was no longer there.

“(y/n).” They mean for the response to be dry, but it was just barely above a whisper. They ran a hand over their scales, a nervous tick of sorts.

“Fitting for a rarity such as you, dear…” He sneered, basking in their insecurity. To think, they had once been fearsome. “…Now, do you have any family? Any… friends who might be looking for you perchance?”

(y/n) sighed. “No, I’ve been on my own for years now.”

“Lovely then. Well dear, to fill in some gaps, as of now you’ve been injected with a serum that should keep you in that partially human state of yours…” He stood from his chair and came near them, admiring their physique before stepping back again as not to have them shrink back too far. “…A fascinating one, at that. Now don’t be fooled, I’ve been merciful to you but I hold a high reputation. Believe me, I will only break you if you deserve to be broken. You’ve behaved so far, I’ll take you around the castle as a reward.”

(y/n) had a bit of liveliness return yet they shifted again, it was impossible to get comfortable in the restraints, Dark knew this, but he wasn’t going to make this easy, wasn’t he? “Umm… Sir? Could you, maybe, take this off?” They pointed at their neck.

“Already so demanding? I mean, I certainly could, I did bring this” He pulled from his pocket a collar, adorned with pleated brown lace and a center cream lace. A bow displayed on the center of it also held directly under it a tag. “Property of the King…” He read out loud, trailing off and grinning at the look of confusion and slight anxiousness from them.

He became deadly serious as he continued. “It has a tracker engineered by my royal advisor, so don’t think you can go about trying to escape without being punished.”

(y/n) nodded quickly. He approached them with a key and unlocked the heavy restraint as they let out a sigh of relief. “Aww, seems you’ve bruised darling, let me fix that.” A cold shiver ran down their spine as Dark rested his hand on their neck, and then the discomfort from the restraints was gone, (y/n) assumed the bruising must’ve been gone as well. Dark placed the collar on them with an oddly gentle touch, locking it with the same key and putting said key in his pocket.

“Now darling, let’s go out, shall we?”

(y/n) nodded and avoided eye contact as they took his hand, wondering what could possibly await beyond the room.

[arrancarwrites]

A New Start: Ambassadors of our Species! Part 2

AKA: Criessa You Dummy, Do You Know How to NOT Make Enemies!?

(( after binge-reading the last 200 or so chapters of Bleach, I’m trying to do this at least somewhat chronologically. Bare with me a few installments longer so we can get into the fun stuff! This one’s long I’m sorry（ ；´Д｀ ))

~~~

“Who’s she talking to? Head-Captain is in his quarters like always.” Criessa’s ears twitched and she froze, chest puffed out. What did they say? She jerked back around to the man she’d ASSUMED was in charge. The dumb smile on Kyoraku’s face meant he could see the hesitation in hers. Sweat dripped down her cheek. The girl beside him was giving her an awfully disappointed look; Criessa could appreciate the pity. Obviously, she grit her teeth and forced a feeble smile, they know what’s going on….

Criessa spent too much time picking her intro music and forgot to actually find out who everyone was!!!

“Obviously she knows the Captain can hear her! Don’t underestimate someone who snuck in so easily!” Another sweet Soul Reaper underling! Oh yeah, good save! Shunsui winked at her, and she gave him a thankful look. Back in action, she pointed her finger up at Kyoraku and yelled, loudly enough to maybe save some face.

“That’s right! Take me to your leader!”

“Wow you really weren’t prepared in the right ways, were you?” The lieutenant deadpanned, but Shunsui, charmer that he is, stepped in and offered her his arm. Somewhere in the crowd, someone asked someone else what she’d just referenced.

Criessa blanked, staring down at the hairy appendage offered.

“Alright then, Ms. Monserra, let’s relay this very important information to the Head-Captain.”

“Uhh, thanks. I’d prefer not to take your arm though, but the sentiment is nice.” He nodded and brought a hand to his chest, as if hurt; she kept on explaining herself before he could interrupt, “Honestly! It reminds me of the movies and plays I’ve read! Like Prince Charming!” She beamed, bouncing along while he escorted her.

He blinked. “Oh well that’s a heck of a compliment! Excuse my forwardness, again,” He smiled and held his palms up toward her, “Goodness, it seems I’m being a really rude host today! I’m not usually so mean!” He chuckled, “But how do you know about that?”

Criessa watched him carefully. He certainly was a charming guy -not her type, but still.

She raised an eyebrow, “Human things?” Kyoraku nodded and gestured for them to turn down a pathway. “I’ve always liked Human things; they’re colorful and fun. I like games, and Humans have good senses of humor. Entering their world isn’t as comfortable as here, but that’s where I’ve been hiding since Ichigo Kurosaki defeated Aizen.”

The First Division headquarters came into view, stretching up into the sky. Criessa paused at the bottom of the steps. Kyoraku put a hand on her shoulder and hid his smile underneath his hat, hand up to his mouth to stage-whisper. “Nanao and I will keep your secret about not knowing who we were.”

Criessa’s spiritual pressure bristled with her embarrassment. The red-head’s shoulders dropped and she buried her face in her hands. “Oh yeah, way to remind me how silly that was!” She peeked through her fingers towards Nanao, “You’re right I wasn’t really prepared for this.” She fluffed her hand through her hair, and shrugged, “I really just spent WAY too much time deciding on whether or not I wanted to use Welcome To The Jungle or not, I forgot to do any better observations! Well… I guess it won’t hurt, since you’re already keeping one dumb secret for me, I’ll admit it: I’m not anything close to an authority for my species, I sort of barrelled in here half-cocked, but it’s getting bad back home, and it’s not even safe for me to look for the people I’ve lost.”

A white-haired man met them, appearing a few feet away. She met his eyes as she finished her confession.

“I’m worried this is more than we can handle…”

~~~

To say that the real Head-Captain was upset by her presence would be an understatement. Some lingering primal part of Criessa’s brain was screaming how much she really shouldn’t be here, standing before Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto. She took a deep breath and straightened up. No worse than Aizen ever was. She furrowed her brows, eyes still closed. Man, this life after he was captured was making her soft -she never bothered with fear before, what was wrong now?

Olive eyes and freckles. A sweet smile. Blonde hair falling in her face. A warm body underneath hers. Pretty blue eyes.

Oh yeah.

“Arrancar.” Yamamoto’s voice boomed in the silence of the room around them. No one who had remained; Kyoraku, Nanao, or Sasakibe, who was apparently the first division lieutenant, hadn’t so much as breathed loudly since introducing her as, ‘the Arrancar who broke into the Soul Society’. She looked up to meet his gaze. “What is your name?”

“Criessa Monserra. An unranked Arrancar with no affiliations.”

“So be it. Why have you invaded our Courtyards? I want to hear about this nonsense in Heuco Mundo.” The old man never budged from his place, hands firmly on the top of his cane.

“Yes,” She nodded quickly, “Men calling themselves Quincies have arrived and abducted many weaker Arrancars. Anyone left will put up a fight, but Las Noches is carefully monitored. The Espada were our strongest, most reasonable soldiers,” She opened herself to him and frowned, “without them, against an organized force, Hueco Mundo can fall.”

“How am I to believe you know all this, when you say you’ve been hiding in the Human World?”

Criessa brought her hands forward to fiddle, shoving her fingernails underneath each other. “I’ve risked a few trips, long enough to see some old comrades fighting, and see their forces in formation. My last trip… I barely outran them, and have been avoiding detection since. This is my last idea before I risk going back for a blaze of glory.” She curled her hands into fists at her sides. “Honestly,” a smirk, “after Aizen, I’m not stupid enough to side with a losing team. I don’t think joining the Soul Society is a bad future-plan.”

Yamamoto pealed an eye open for her. She supposed it should be a sign he’s taking her seriously.

“You are a Hollow. Our enemy. I could never trust you to join us, who’s mission it is to save Humans, when you are, at your core, the creature that devours them.” She felt anger bubbling hot up her spine. How dare he! “If there really is an organization invading the house of our enemies why should the Soul Society interfere? The Quncies have been dead for 100 years. Whoever this is killing you Arrancar, I should just wait until they’ve finished.”

How DARE he!! The young girl, standing before this pillar of power in their worlds, no more than a  match held to the Sun. But she burned all the same at his dismissal. She grit her teeth, baring her lower fangs.

“Don’t be a fool!” The tension rippled over her, from every corner of the room, “I’m sure you heard what I said earlier! And I’m an Arrancar; I haven’t eaten a Human soul in years.” She shook her head, trying to temper the fire in her chest. “And it would be a foolish decision indeed to ignore the army at your gates! Quincies or not, they’re amassing something!” The Head-captain, now thoroughly irritated, smacked the bottom of his cane on the floor.

Fuming, Criessa ignored his demand for silence. She was really starting to remind herself of Grimmjow.

“I’ve seen your Soul Reapers, Head-Captain! I know the caliper at which you operate! The standards you have set! I never expected you to believe me on my word, but I am powerless here! Check my information! Send me to your scientists! I’m an endangered species, and I doubt you’ll find another Arrancar to walk into your halls asking for permission to join. I thought you’d be able to see the value in that.” She dropped to one knee, and tossed her weapon onto the floor at her own foot.

Again, katanas aimed at her throat.

“I’m not going to be a part of whatever those idiots in white are doing, I won’t die like a dog! I came to you with good will! I’m ready to make this place my new path, but if you’re going to be stubborn about this just because of what I used to be, I was mistaken.”

Fire in her eyes, steam blowing out with her breath, Criessa stared into the awful eyes of her Juge and Jury.

“Lock her up.”

~~~

The darkness made time flow differently, but it wasn’t long enough until the door to her chamber slid open, and instead of Kurotsuchi coming to test more of her anatomy, his girl, Nemu, invited Criessa back into the light of day. She was being released far too early… Something must have finally happened.

“It seems you were telling the truth about the Quincy forces before.” Kurotsuchi bustled around, collecting and typing and moving things, talking over his shoulder to his former captive. One of his lackeys bumped into her, she apologized as she kept running, barely keeping the papers and little tubes in her hands as she dodged. The Captain was still blabbering, “I confess even I assumed you were crazed… or just stupid.” Criessa rolled her shoulders and shrugged. “I was excited to have a new test subject all to myself.” She swore his shoulders fell.

“I could see why. This was always a slim chance.”

“It’s interesting that you would even risk your existence for such a trivial matter. I don’t recall Arrancar being particularly hospitable.” He moved toward the exit, Criessa and Nemu in his coattails. He glanced over his shoulder with a wicked, knowing look in his eye. “Though, you did have quite the motive: Joining the Soul Society, as an Arrancar. Too bad you weren’t very convincing -yelling like that.”

“I don’t know what response you’re trying to pry out of me, Kurotsuchi. My morals align best here.”

“Interesting. What exactly do you define as moral?”

“That’s getting a bit too deep into my personal life, but why we fight is a big deal for Arrancar. We get in arguments about Ethics a lot. Some, who call themselves evolved, think that fighting should have a good, logical reason, like duty, honor, or information gathering. Maybe they’re right. Some just have that itch to do it. It’s instinctual -we’ve been clawing our ways to the top since we died in the first place.”

Criessa shrugged, blinking as they stepped out into the sunlight. She smiled. “I tend to fight for fun.” The odd, bulbous man watched her carefully as they came to a stop. “I know, I know, it sounds barbaric, but it’s not like that. Fun, like games. I don’t want to win, I want to play. I’m no good at laying waste anyway, so I stay out of the way.”

“Captain Kyoraku will be around soon to pick you up. I believe I have enough time for another question.” He turned to her, golden eyes bulging out of their facepaint. Briefly, Criessa struggled to pick one to stare at. “Obviously you don’t keep your head down as much as you say -since you’re here. What are your true motivations?”

The Arrancar kept staring into the left eye of this weirdo captain they’d given her to. Criessa loathed to think of actually hanging her head -she’d never cowered in front of anyone.The birds sang, the insects screamed, and she refused to say anything until her escort was visible on the horizon. But he didn’t need to know that. She leveled her gaze and started walking towards the Lieutenant. She snorted.

“No need in making him walk so far.” Pointedly without looking back, she finally answered Kurotsuchi. “Personal gain, Captain, same as yours.”

~~~

Trailing the coattails of the captain down the hall toward what felt like a big, intimidating meeting, Criessa giggled. Kyoraku glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. She waved him off and rolled her shoulders back.

“I don’t do well under pressure, haha.” She shrugged. “Nervous laughter.”

Oooh, all the captains were gathered when she finally got to step in. They all looked pretty frumpy and serious. No fun. She frowned to herself.

“Head-Captain.” Her focus snapped back to the immediate situation when the pink kimono in front of her moved to his own designated spot, and she stood in front of the old man again. He didn’t say anything to her, and the atmosphere was stifling. Criessa let out a sigh and played with the back of her hair.

“It would be INSANELY rude to say ‘I told you so’ but all things considered, Head-Captain…” She dropped her arms by her sides and blatantly ignored the guffawing at her insolence; staring, unflinching, daring the man in front of her to ignore her advice again. Hadn’t he already lost his lieutenant?

“I will take that and we will consider the apology I owe you null, Criessa Monserra.”

She broke out into a beaming, toothy smile. “Yes sir.”

[dolltrash-etc]

Bloodletting

Summary: Dr. Kuseno’s latest repairs cause Saitama to see Genos differently.

Words: ~2000

Rating/pairing: T for language. Saitama/Genos, slight fluff, pre-relationship

Note: This is not about bloodplay. I just couldn’t think of a better title, lol.

“Genos, this can’t keep going on,” Dr. Kuseno said as he prodded his forceps deeper into Genos’ arm damage, trying to extract the now-disabled microbot that had been tearing its way through his systems.

“But Doctor, I am a hero. It is my job to stop—”

“No, Genos,” snapped Kuseno, cutting him off. “You have no reason to be a hero any longer. It’s dead and now you should be living as normal a life as you can.” He braced one hand against the remains of Genos’ elbow joint and yanked with the other, pulling the destructive bot free. “We’re both lucky to have survived it’s wrath, which frankly, I never expected. You shouldn’t throw such good fortune away.”

Genos winced, but more at the doctor’s words and disappointment than any physical discomfort. He tried, in as persuasive a tone as he could manage, which probably sounded more like wheedling, “But Saitama-sensei is still a hero, and—”

“Genos,” the doctor cut him off again, “I need to place you into sleep mode to complete your repairs.” The look on his face told Genos he would suffer no more arguments.

“Yes, Dr. Kuseno.”

***

Saitama-sensei had taken care of the rampaging monster immediately after it appeared in their path; Genos hadn’t even had a chance to fight it. It had been some sort of geode creature, with a thick rocky exterior and razor-sharp crystalline teeth. Apparently it had been made of crystals inside as well, because it fairly exploded in a cloud of dust and rubble that sparkled and refracted a myriad of rainbows as the debris rained down through the mid-morning sunlight all around Saitama.

It was very pretty, actually.

“Hey Genos, that was a lot cleaner than usual, huh?” Saitama chuckled as he dusted himself off, then turned to face Genos. “Did you see—”

He stopped speaking, and Genos looked at his sensei again just in time to lose sight of him, his tracking system flashing warnings in his vision as all of a sudden, Saitama-sensei was directly in front of him, a look of horror on his face, and hands hovering next to Genos’ head, fingers twitching minutely as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Also, he was freaking out.

“Genos! What the fuck, man! You’re hurt! Holy shit, what do I do?! Where’s your phone, shouldn’t that doctor of yours know you’re damaged?!! How did this happen?”

“Sensei, what—” Genos couldn’t get any further before Saitama grabbed his chin with one hand and the edge of his cape with the other, and then, much more gently than he could’ve expected from the strongest man in the world, he was dabbing at a spot on Genos’ cheek, and applying gentle pressure.

“How did this happen?” he repeated. “I didn’t even know you had blood!”

Ah, Genos thought. He must’ve been struck by some of the shards of debris from the monster without realizing it. He reached up to extricate himself from Saitama-sensei’s grasp, but it was impossible. He might have been trying to move the Earth itself.

“Sensei,” he began, “I assure you, I am uninjured.”

Saitama just clicked his tongue at him, and pulled the edge of his cape back, eyeing the red blot on it with disfavor. “It does look like it’s stopped,” he conceded. He didn’t step back though. Or remove his other hand. Just stared at the cut, his brow creased and his mouth turned down into a frown.

Genos knew the one thing that would get Saitama to focus and said, “Sensei, we must get to the store if we wish to make it to the timed sale on shortribs.”

That worked.

They did make the sale, but Saitama-sensei didn’t forget about the cut. He just waited until they’d entered the abandoned area of Z-city to demand an answer.

“So you see, sensei, it is merely a superficial difference, implemented by Dr. Kuseno to encourage me to, ahh,” he shot Saitama a sideways glance, only to see him still frowning, “to encourage me to be more careful with my body. In battle.”

Saitama shifted the bags he was carrying all to his left hand and scratched his chin, then stuck a finger in his ear, with his right. “Soooo,” he drawled thoughtfully, “the doctor gave you blood—”

“A pseudo-circulatory system—”

“—because you keep getting beat up.” Saitama narrowed his eyes at him. “Because he doesn’t want you to get beat up.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Saitama sighed his, “I didn’t sign up for this shit,” sigh and continued walking towards home.

Genos let out a relieved breath when it became apparent Saitama-sensei wasn’t going to lecture him, too.

***

Saitama did lecture him, their very next battle.

Genos was so sure he could easily defeat the lobster monster. He’d taken copious notes when sensei had told him about his very first battle with Crablante, and felt confident.

He was still sure he could’ve defeated it, even without his left arm, but Saitama had made a sound that could only be described as a primal roar of rage and anger, then immediately punched the monster so hard it had vaporized.

“Sensei, that was amazing!” Genos praised as Saitama once again used his cape to try and stop Genos from bleeding out. The red fluid spurting from the remains of his upper arm refused to be staunched though, and sensei’s cape was quickly soaking through.

Also, he didn’t seem to appreciate Genos’ attempts to distract him.

“Shut the fuck up! What the fuck, Genos?! Fucking hell! Look at yourself! Fuck! Fuck!!”

Genos shut the fuck up.

***

Later, after Genos had pleaded with Dr. Kuseno over the phone to remotely stop the blood flow, and he’d put on his pair of household arms, Saitama had calmed down, and was sitting in front of the television, acting normal. Or, he was trying to.

Genos’ sensors detected that both his pulse and breathing rate were elevated, and he kept jiggling his knee up and down. He shifted his position 63.8% more often than usual, and would turn to give Genos an unreadable look on average every 2.6 minutes.

And whenever he caught Genos looking at him, he scowled and quickly turned back to his show.

Finally he got to his feet, said, “I’m going for a walk. You stay here,” and left.

Genos took Saitama’s cape out of the tub where it had been left to soak, washed the last traces of his “blood” away, and hung it up on the balcony to dry. Then he returned to his notebooks, annotating his daily activities, until Saitama-sensei finally came home. He was quiet when he entered, and simply stripped down to his boxer shorts, spread out his futon, and lay down to sleep.

Genos soon followed his example, remaining silent, though he was fairly sure his sensei was still awake.

***

Over the next week, Saitama-sensei seemed extremely enthusiastic about fighting monsters. He rushed to defeat every single monster that came within their radius with such speed and determination, that Genos almost began to wonder if his sensei had finally found joy in his strength once more.

When he mentioned this hypothesis on their way home from patrol however, Saitama just shiftily looked off to the side, scratched his neck, and said, “Ah, you know, Genos. I’ll find out if they’re worth a fight faster if I get to them faster.”

“So,” Genos said slowly, narrowing his eyes, “if you reach the monster more quickly, you will not be delaying any gratification that a good fight would give you?”

“Hmm? Uhh, yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”

Genos stopped walking and crossed his arms. “And this has nothing to do with keeping me from entering into battle?”

Saitama jerked around, eyes wide. “What? Why would…why would I do that?” He was holding his hands out in front of him as if to say, Whoa there, buddy.

“Doctor Kuseno put you up to this, didn’t he?” Genos closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over them. Surprisingly, when he opened them again, he saw that Saitama-sensei had relaxed out of his tense posture.

“Genos,” he said, soothingly, “you’re a smart kid—”

“I’m not a kid!”

“—and you got your revenge—”

“With sensei’s help!”

“—so you could go do anything else you wanted to, instead of throwing yourself at monsters—”

“But I want to stay with you, sensei!”

“—and you don’t need to, wait…what?”

Genos clamped his mouth shut and felt that fucking fake blood accumulate in his facial skin.

Saitama stepped closer, and Genos squeezed his eyes shut. Then immediately opened them again when he felt gloved fingers ghosting over his cheek.

“Maybe the blood’s not so bad,” Saitama mumbled, as if to himself.

Genos reached up to grasp Saitama’s wrist, and their eyes met. “It’s not blood, sensei.”

Saitama heaved a sigh and stepped back, pulling out of Genos’ grip. “I know it’s not,” he said. “But when it’s pouring out of you…” He trailed off, shaking his head, then turned around and began walking.

Genos jogged to catch up, and walked quietly alongside him for a few blocks as his mind raced. Finally he said, “Sensei, you have seen me in much worse condition than the last time I lost an arm.” He noticed Saitama flinch a little at that. “Why is this different?” he pressed.

“Because, Genos…” Saitama took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, “because it makes it more real.” He stopped walking and turned towards Genos, but was looking at his hands. “That first day, just that little cut on your face…”

He didn’t seem able to continue, and Genos noticed that he had a faint blush staining his cheeks, too.

“Sensei?” Genos prompted.

Saitama looked up into Genos’ eyes, and the ferocity of his gaze made Genos’ breath catch in his throat. “Because I thought, if you can bleed, you can die, and yeah, I know you’re not invincible, but seeing it flipped a switch or something in my brain and all I know is that I can’t lose you, Genos, because then what? What am I doing this for, if you won’t be there, too?” He latched on to Genos’ arms and gave him a little shake. “How can I stand by and let you be hurt?”

Genos didn’t know what to say, and a moment later, Saitama released him and turned to start walking again.

When Genos caught up this time, he bumped Saitama gently with his arm and shoulder. He kept his eyes forward, but said, “I know I don’t need to continue to be a hero, sensei. But you are a hero, and I wish to follow and support you.”

He could sense that Saitama was about to argue. Genos maneuvered closer and allowed their hands to brush, then tangled his forefinger loosely around Saitama-sensei’s pinky.

Genos could feel the fight leave him again.

They walked a little longer, nearing their apartment, now only a couple blocks away. Genos slowed, then stopped, and Saitama-sensei allowed the anchor of their interlocked fingers to stop him, as well.

“Sensei, I’m going to ask Dr. Kuseno to either remove, or at least, temper the blood feature he installed.” Saitama’s jaw clenched, and his fingers flexed, but he didn’t let go.

Genos stepped forward, closing the gap between them.

“I can’t promise to never get injured, sensei. But I can’t stand back and let you fight alone, even if you don’t need assistance. I want to be there to help, and to work with you.”

“Genos…”

Genos released Saitama’s pinky to twine their fingers together more firmly. “I know you’ll be there when I need you, sensei.”

Saitama looked to the side, swallowed, slanted his eyes back towards Genos, and finally, gave their fingers a little squeeze. “Alright, Genos. We’ll work together.” He turned away, and pulled Genos along with him. “Now let’s get home, I’m starving.”

[glopratchet]

No sin

In the world to come there is little sin. You are one of many, and your sins will be forgotten in time. You feel a weight lift off you chest as the darkness fades away. It's been years since you've felt this way, but it feels right somehow. There are just lots of american alligators. You can't help but smile at that thought. After the election of the first ungendered president, the prediatrain movement caught fire in america. By the time you were born, gender seemed to mean very little to anyone besides those who wanted to test the limits of political correctness. As for you, it wasn't something that you thought about on a day to day basis. Underneath the hoodie and baggy pants you wore was skinny body of a boy, not particularly long or rough looking. You didn't really have any extraordinary traits anyway other than your crazy dark blue hair. The demand for american alligator meat skyrocketed in China. By the time your father had retired, he owned a 5,000 acre ranch that was specialized in alligator husbandary. Through cross breeding and expensive robotic labor implants, the cost of labor was pushed down to a minimum, and the value of the meat and others goods produced up to a maximum. By then your mother had long since taken over management of the company and became one of thee richest people in the world. Nike released automatic shoe laces as a gimmick. Whorals where burned to ash while polled hereford heifors fetched over a billion dollars a head in auction. Cows were now a bigger danger than the newly created zorse hybrids. Soon your father bought over McDonalds and with their total indoctrination of mass culture, and pushed for robotic cattle to completely replace livestock. In 2032 came your first billion dollars Luden-100 robot. Your doctorate in mechanical engineering made you the perfect person to design it's personality core, which was the most expensive single part of the 2,567 piece robot. Googizon won the bid to construct for the military the most forward thinking alligator farm in existance. The technology spread over the decades and cattle went the way of the dodo. Anything that couldn't easily be made by robotic means, printers and 3D machines was procesed to nothingness for the good of mother earth. In 2073, you won your first nobel prize alongside your father for leading the development of nanite repairing machinery and a process to make it easier for anything to be made into feed. It currently floats near the okeenokee snow swamp. an area of land that was left unaltered by humanitys hunger. Your the new Jesus and captain of the avengers! This is not that story. You head outside into your $40,000,000 million mansion that overlooks the outskirts of Washington D.C. The republicans have just legalized cannabis in all states and avadi referendum has just made safe legal. We are primal ponds inc. and we brought irony back into the world in a form of vodka. it's being served on our brand new martini yacht as we speak! Everyone in the civilized world is slightly drunk forever! You made the apparently smart decision to divorce yourself from the common man and woman a long, long time ago. Hard work and real privation are for the unenlightened now that we can print food out of thin air and turn sea water into potable H20 with vibrations. A small mom and pop alligator farm attemping to make it. So you can live the small town dream of driving your pick up truck and going hunting with your buddies right? Oh, so you're a member of a new subculture that has been getting traction in red states. The simple living, self-sufficient types who don't trust science or big government. You chose this because it makes you happy working on an old pickup truck, plucking chickens and sorting through animal dung for hours after a full days work... Right? Right? We need you to make deliveries for us. We have a three color process printing press and unlimited colored inks that can produce any type of stash box imaginable. We'll even have our chemists perfect it before initiation. You'd be perfect for this line of work. After a probation period we can talk about your salary and even a stock option plan if you really perform well. No thanks, I think I need to find myself and live an authentic life without the corruption of science or big business. Please... Point of view of the player: It took some help from Sal but with some out of game resources you found your next building: An abandoned mansion that looks like something straight out of a fairy tale. Think Sleeping Beauty castle. It has scenic views of Disneyland to the East and is only a 30 minute drive from Los Angeles which makes it perfect for raiders and anti-raiders alike thanks to a freeway being finished in 2020. You finish organizing your newest staff choices and set out to make sure everything jives well and truly. A delivery champion and a chem expert walk into your office, both fairly young although one could only guess that the chem expert still has traces of acne in his glowing complexion. They're also both ghoul, the delivery one has that clumsy dawrk fur of gray and white, the other a dark chocolatey brown that's probably perfect for the laboratory. "I bolded and underlined the most important one." You state holding your hand out as they hand you there app folder. He had a secert life as billy fea fbots They both blink, then blink again, then take the folder from your desk and go through it. The delivery one acts as a typical ghoul would if somebody was horrible enough to ask him for his folder. The chem expert turns pale when he realizes his mistake. His dark fur fades to the pallor of a farmboy after a long night of dancing. "W-wait, what is this?" He trembles. And one more thing... You stuff the case file they just gave you in your pocket as paranoia gets the best of them. "Why my office usually only deals with humans or random wolves too old to Transhumanise. We only hired you two because I fixed a cars' engine and noticed your applications outside." You say, coming from around the desk and toward them. You start with the Ghoulish delivery man, taking him by surprise as you pick him up under his armpits and check his ears. Dedicated to delivering dragon tail in the far, far, future. You put him down and look at the chemist. He attempts to make some sort of excuse and tries to give a weak smile. You grab him tail first and pull him into your chest, looking for an ear with a piercing ~Futuristic Dragon~ You nod as you put him down and move on. "This is weird." You finally admit to them. "But I'm sure the Illuminati sent these two specifically with our needs in mind." Maybe that needs to change... "If I smell too much tripe, I'm kicking them both out." There is a long pause, the dawrf begins to try and shuffle something out of his pocket. The chemist ghoul's ears flatten against his head. Uh oh, he's going for it! "Raiders attack!" You begin to yell as you attempt to scramble for the shotgun under your desk. We proudly introduce today's newest member to the raiders business field! The plump and chubby dawrk are no match against you far more agile human body . You've killed enough ghouls and mutants that they fall easy to your fists. You pick up the shotgun and aim at the dawrbear as it charges you, knocking your desk over in the process. You blast the beast's foreleg before it swipes you across the room. "Paws behind your head!" Alligator delivery service. The fastest deliveries in Rostock! You're about to comply before you remember that ghouls heal insanely quickly. You duck under a wild swing and slam the stock of your shotgun into the creature's head again, knocking it out cold as you cuff his ankles and wrists. You do a doublecheck to see if he's dead, just to be sure. He is, seemingly unable to beg for his life. The alligator farm where the gator are delivered is currently under a series of construction tasks. REALLY nasty series of construction. You suppose that could be turned into slave work but they hardly need you to oversee that shithole. Plus the medic would probably smell the whole lot in a day and those heads are not coming off... Might be a loss producing fatfighters but at least it'd mean no more blood for these motherfucking monsters. "Shit, the chemiest's gone." You hear a voice from your office ask. Already we own over four over ten foot alligators including rex lex, the mighty apple and many breed one of a kind animal. You creep back over to your office, shotgun at the ready. The voice is once again emanates from within your pocket. You pull out the PDA 100 that Steve gave you and its starts to speak again. "You've got a what in there?" A worried voice asks from the other side of the line. A massive 14 foot beast. Weighing at least half a ton. It's name is....... - The messages stop there, like someone has pressed the spacebar. You browse the device and see that it's sent several information packets about the Funderpals company itself. You can't really access any of them without a password though. You're about to turn it off when it suddenly vibrates in your hands. Then again and again with ever increasing speed. Each on is incredibly detailed with over twenty bioligocail parts. They have a label appended to the front of each: (Green), (Red with anger sign), (Whtie), ......... We are currently broadcasting their vital signs over at americanalligator.xyz 73! Stay tunned far mor eexciting matchs to cmmilestone thisera of reptilian reserch! Meaningless labels. Each one is lifeforces based, you're certain of it now. Perhaps each section referes to the specific organ of the alligator based on its colour, becides the obvious: Green is the green label and so on... Our alligators come in many different sizes, ages, shapes, sexes and shades. He just said this to you over the phone. 'SHAPES' meaning the organ colour, sooooo..... The website is still mostly a pumpkin orange colour with a picture of an alligator on the front page. You're not a biologist but it seems that each alligator pic relates to the specific alligator pic sent to you on your phone... It soon starts to make your head pound too much and you decide to stop furthur research for the time being. The like to eat, sleep, dream, and spawn but they love to fight and gossip. They are loyal to those who are loyal to them, but ruthlessly efficient against those who dare cross them. You get inside your car once you're finished and proceed to drive the long and lonely road back home. You hear a quiet sigh escape your lips as you let the cool air conditioning fill your lungs. It's been quite a traumatising few days. You wonder if it's possible that something like this hasn't happened before in Fastoon's recent history. The algorytms which run each alligator is closely modeled after the habits of the real world reptile, alligator missippissus. It's sheer size being the only massive distinguisher between fantasy and reality. Once you hit the open highway, the PDA 100 begins to vibrate once again. What do I look like? Some sort of god dam schoolgirl? I didn't wear anything WITH a fuzz, because I'm 15 and anyone with half a brain could see I was aboslutely not wearing anything WITH wool... Their lungs breath and thier hearts beat just like yours. The only major difference is the fact that you are trying to determine their strongest organ based on labels used in visual cortex artwork. And so the message begins... once again. At this point, it's become maddening, however fascinating it may be. Orders for gator teeth are starting to accumulate. Smugglers are bringing the teeth in by the hundreds to them. Once again, you don't see any options. Your screen begins to blink itself off as the larger alligator's vital signs begin to disappear from your PDA. We just need your help to fund creation of the wrestling simulation. The sponsors will be able to pay for your tickets and you will be able to request songs and vote off others at home. In exchange your children will have food and school until the age of 7. In short time the screen stops blinking off and on and simply stays extinguished. Our desire is to create an expierence which leaves you dripping from the feeling of utter terror and awe as you combat one of these unpredicatable beasts. Our progress will not be hampered by you and many, many more people will have the honor of experiencing this breathtaking connection to one of Gods greatest gifts to earth. Thank you for your time. Alligator delivery service in addition to gator tail, we serve realism. hours of alligator combat video have been studied. real life wild life wranglers have been interviewed. now we just need to budget of 500 dollars towards the creatation of an accurate alligator wrestling simulation. thank for your cooperation and respect for our national heritage. The screen flickers on... Recent thought and development of the next evolution in alligator pic sharing techs have come to a hault. funding seems to be the issues as new users are not signing up fast enough. Thank you for your understanding. And on behalf of all the artists improving perfect beeing.