#i kinda wish his cape swishes more

[all-the-angels-stare]

⚔️ Crystal Awakening Blade ⚔️

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BATMAN | BAT FAMILY (assorted canon)

—

“Long Overdue” (Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on an ambush when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action, Reader & Bruce are divorced, -angry!reader & Caribbean-American!Reader (kinda)

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source: Gotham Knights video game)

| 1k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven. (series masterlist)

“Baaats!”

At Dick’s pointed tone, thrown across the battlefield as he’s cornered by six of Black Mask’s and Penguin’s combined men, Bruce clenches his teeth harder.

“Ah shit.” Jason throws one goon into two more with a grunt. “If golden boy’s getting panicky, what’s that mean for the rest of us?”

Dick takes two guys out with an escrima stick.

“Har har, Hood.”

Jason shrugs from the other side of the factory floor, looking increasingly more frustrated and likely to abandon Bruce’s ‘no gun’ stipulation for their shared mission as he’s ganged up on.

“This really isn’t looking good, Bats.”

Barbra’s voice coming into his earpiece just adds to the steady growth of gray hairs on his head. Bruce brings his hands up to block the swing of a crowbar from a man wearing a crude approximation of Black Mask’s face.

“Give me a status update, Oracle.”

“To put it eloquently? You’re fucked.”

Her forced glibness makes Dick throw out another pointed call of his name and Jason cackle. Bruce just sighs.

“What are you suggesting?”

He regrets asking immediately after he does at Barbara's next words.

“Well, with Batgirl away, Robin out, and Gordon and the rest of the GCPD running interference to keep the victims away from Mask’s remaining men I’m saying you hit the emergency backup button.”

Bruce grunts as he goes down to swipe two mens’ feet from under them, cape swishing in a low arc behind him and then catching the air as he pushes himself up and punches another out.

“No.”

There’s a groan in his earpiece.

“I really think now’s the time to practice the humility we’ve been working on, B!”

“I wish you luck with that,” Jason grunts before a quiet: “Fuck it.”

Bruce braces himself for the onslaught of bullets from his second son when the sound of the large skyline window shattering echoes around the spacious room. A figure drops in following the cascade of glass.

The whole room seems to pause, then, during which the figure rises out of their crouch.

“Oh holy shit,” falls past Jason's mouth before they start moving.

In the rush of the night and with the distance between the last time he saw you, Jason might not recognize your voice, but Bruce does immediately.

“Oracle! Explain, now.”

Barbara’s voice is unbothered as she speaks.

“First, the next time you demand an answer from me you can do your own recon, and Second, you need the help so I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah Bruce,” your voice in his ear causes him to take an unceremonious hit to the abdomen. “Respect the woman. She’s the reason I’m over here saving your pompous ass.”

As Bruce backtracks from the man and catches the guy's leg when he goes to kick him, you’re already moving. You dodge in and out of groups of men, using your momentum to get them on the ground and not letting them get back up.

He throws his assailant to the floor.

“I thought you said you didn’t want anything to do with Gotham?”

You kick a woman into him and he catches and electrocutes her before dropping her to the ground.

“I said that about you not Gotham, and Nightwing’s here so I had to come,” you counter.

Bruce grunts as you get low to strike a man in the knee caps with your baton and then bowl him over.

Nightwing and you end up back to back between one blink and the next and Bruce can already feel a headache coming on as he takes out four more goons.

“I for one am very happy you're here, Nightfall.”

Jason snorts from off to the side, already spurred back into action, but blessedly with his guns holstered, and punches a person's nose in.

The crunch reverberates over the coms.

“Of course your name’s Nightfall. You fit right goddamn in.”

You laugh, it makes his heart clench. It’s been almost a year since the last time he saw you well (he’d seen you at Stephanie’s funeral but you’d fervently ignored him), and the last full conversation you’d had hadn’t exactly ended amicably between the two of you.

It’s like it’s five years ago - back when you still worked together - as the fight begins to rapidly turn in their favor. Where the droves of goons had seemed endless minutes ago they were now getting smaller and sloppier.

You were an unexpected obstacle and Bruce’s sure whatever sorry canon fodder Mask and Pinguine had scrounged up weren’t old enough to know who you were, let alone how to anticipate how you fought.

Hell, Bruce had grown familiar with you over the course of several years and the night you left your hit had still managed to catch him off guard.

It’s as things are slowing down that the other side throws their own curveball. A shot rings out, it’s not Jason’s, and then all of a sudden you’re a blur in front of him as you shove Hood out of the way.

Bruce’s breath catches in his throat when a pained whimper comes from one of you and he’s running before he’s fully realized it, Dick at his side.

He stops and kneels next to the two of you, quickly assessing that the bullet meant for Jason is now embedded in your arm. The compromise in your suit should make seeing the skin underneath easy but the bullet wound gushes crimson over whatever brown that could’ve been showing. The only good part was that Bruce could also see an exit wound. He doesn’t think as he reaches out.

You knock his hands away, “I’m fine, Bats.”

“You’re bleeding,” he forces out.

Even behind the mask the look you shoot him is nasty.

“I’m fully well aware,” you stretch out your shoulder and wince before forcing yourself to your feet. “I’m competent enough to tell that much.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

He watches you split your attention between him and a now getting up Hood.

“Oh, but aren’t you always on some holier than thou bullshit?”

Your voice turns sickly sweet and Bruce sighs.

“Now’s not the time for your petulance, you need to get that checked.”

Holding your arm you slowly turn fully to him with a tilt of your head.

“Excuse me?”

Bruce clenches his eyes shut and forces himself to stop reacting and to start thinking. He’s not going to get you anywhere if he makes you feel stupid. Talking to you like he does the kids has never once worked (and if he was being honest with himself it didn’t work on them either), he’s just operating on emotion.

When he opens his eyes again you're still staring at him, hip cocked and the weight of your glare firmly in place. No distance, it seemed, was going to stop him from being able to read you.

He doesn’t get a chance to speak before snickering distracts everyone though.

As a collective you, him, and Dick turn towards where Jason is struggling to contain himself. He waves you all off.

“No no, don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying someone not treating B like he’s God for once.”

Off to the side Dick starts to grumble before you move to watch Jason. Your point is almost accusatory as you indicate the gun clad man with no affiliate insignia on his chest.

“Who are you again?”

It’s mean, your tone icy as you look him up and down.

Jason stops laughing.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, lady?”

You and the 19 year old go rigid as you stare one another down. Jason looks like he’s about to get vindictive any second and you look seconds away from tearing him and Bruce a new asshole, never mind that you just took a bullet for him.

It’s Dick, as per usual, who saves them all.

“Alright, how about we all just take a breath. Batman needs to go deal with the cops, who according to Oracle have finally gotten here. Nightfall it was nice to have you back, however briefly. And Hood, chill.” From where he’s planted himself between you and Jason he mimics taking a deep breath. “Everybody just chill.”

As the both of you start gearing up to go Bruce finds his voice.

“You should all come down to the cave to get checked up,” his jaw clenches. “Please.”

“Mm,” you purse your lips, arms shaking as you scoff but otherwise (thank god) nod your head. “Fine. I could stand seeing Agent A and Robin again.”

You stare at him hard afterwards and Bruce wants to say something but the words lodge at the base of his throat again and even clearing it doesn’t help. Eventually you clap Nightwing on the back before sighing and sliding close to him to press the call button for the Batmobile that’s on his belt yourself.

The indicator sounds and the easy peel of the tires moving around a corner follows your departure as you walk out the exit not swarming with police and hop into the vehicle.

He wasn’t able to say what he wanted but the thought of you in the Batmobile makes him feel warm enough. Now if only-

“Hood?”

Jason only stares at him and Bruce finds himself at a loss, a feeling that’s becoming familiar when around his son. He wants to get that limp checked out like it’ll personally improve his own health, along with whatever other ailments Jason’s managed to acquire running around on his own.

‘Like he would’ve been today if he hadn’t been desperate enough to cave and call,’ something whispers in his head.

Jason had the situation handled initially, and so close to the outskirts of the city Bruce hadn’t even known this transaction was happening at all, he didn’t have to bring them in on it and Bruce is certain he wouldn’t have if getting the kids to safety hadn’t been Jason’s top priority.

Dick waves his grappling gun, “I’ll race you there.”

Jason scoffs, only a domino masking his identity because he’d been forced to blow his helmet up in a last ditch effort to get Bruce’s attention.

”I’m not a child,” but then he looks at the Batmobile and his stance becomes just that much more open. He points a challenging finger at Dick. “But I definitely don’t want to be stuck in a closed space with Nightfall either, so you’re on, Goldy.”

The two of them swing off together making all sorts of noise and the vice around Bruce’s heart loosens a little. Everyone was secured.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?”

Bruce grunts as he advances towards Gordon.

“I was busy.”

Barbara scoffs, “Even my professors don’t take excuses like that B, don’t give me that. She deserves to know.”

“She’s here now. I’ll tell her eventually.”

“Mhm, sure,” she intones. “You have until you get back.”

Bruce doesn’t get to argue with her before the woman logs off.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This is part one of a series. Mind any typos I’ll get to them eventually.

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Come As You Are

Blake: [To Sun] I still don’t think this is necessary.

Sun: C’mon, babe-a-licious, it’s perfect! You’re the life of the party!

Blake: *Raises eyebrow*

Sun: Okay, well you were the life of the party but that’s not your fault.

Yang: Yeah partner, it’s pretty hard to compete with [gestures at her body] all this!

Blake sighed, choosing to ignore that comment and glanced down at herself. They were at a “come as you are” party celebrating something (though it seemed like with the death of the Grimm Queen and the rapid downspike in Grimm activity, plus a collective loss of intelligence in the Grimm, that people didn’t need a an actual reason to party) and the theme was obvious.

So Blake had eventually caved to Sun’s pleas and was busy wearing what was effectively lingerie. A black bandeau top with a cartoonish hole shaped like a cat head (basically a circle with two triangles about where the ears would be) that left little to the imagination as to the size and shape of her boobs and a short black skirt, a studded belt and hanging from the studded belt was a black cat tail. Her ears were on display, she’d drawn whiskers on her cheeks and blackened the tip of her nose but she’d drawn the line at wearing cat paw gloves and slippers and had opted for a sensible pair of heels.

Sun had basically stripped down to a furry yellow speedo and a pair of flip flops and was carrying a bunch of bananas, his own tail swishing back and forth happily.

Yang on the other hand was technically wearing more but it hardly mattered. She’d somehow managed to fit her excessive curves into a skintight bodysuit that was somewhere between a leotard and a corset, her rump barely fitting in the back while Yang’s breasts were all but spilling out of the top. It was sleeveless, she wore no stockings as she was happy to show off her legs and she wore a pair of four inch black pumps and atop a head filled with lightly curled blonde hair was a pair of bunny ears. And as if to prove her statement right, Yang had had eyes on her all night, not that it mattered to the very taken brawler.

Three guesses what she’s was supposed to be and the first two don’t count, Blake thought.

Blake: Such modesty, Yang.

Yang: Pfft, modesty schmodesty. If you got it--

Blake: Let it all hang out?

Yang: *Snorts* You see anything hanging?

Sun: [Uncomfy] Hey, uh, isn’t Jaune supposed to be here? I mean you two did say you were gonna match outfits.

Yang: Yeah, well, lover boy changed his mind last second and refused to share with his loving girlfriend what he was doing.

Blake: You put him in a headlock and demanded he tell you again?

Yang: *Blushes* No! I haven’t done that in years!

Blake: *Waits*

Yang: [Sighs in defeat] I may have tried to smother him.

Blake:*Crosses arms*

Sun: With your--

Yang: With my tits. [Grumbles] I think I’m using them too much if he’s actually developing an immunity.

Blake: [Pleased] There we go.

Still, Blake couldn’t help but smile at the grumpy and still slightly red faced form of her partner even as Sun coughed and tried to pretend that he suddenly found something interesting about Oscar’s exaggerated farmer costume of heavy brown boots, heavy duty dark blue jeans and the black-and-red plaid shirt he had tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up, one hand carrying an actual hay fork.

Blake looked around and saw Ruby in track shoes, track pants and a sports bra with goggles resting at her hairline. She was busy talking to a group of admirers alongside Weiss, who was in a smart pure white pantsuit with a pale blue blouse beneath that really was no different from her everyday wear as the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. The only additions being a clipboard and a pair of fake eyeglasses to sell the look, her hair dun up in a bun.

Nora was wearing a horned helm of some sort, sleeveless chainmail that left her biceps open to admire and brown leather bracers on her forearms. She wore studded black leather pants that showed off an equally powerful lower body and furred boots. A red cape was tied around her neck and the young woman had Magnhild over her shoulder and was darting about excitedly, other partygoers ducking to avoid getting smashed over the head by the low hanging hammer.

Blake wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be, but the same went for Ren who wore poofy white pants, black flats (slippers? She didn’t know) and a green jacket that was similar to his first outfit, but he could hide his hands in his sleeves and rather than buttons, there was a length of white rope that tied it together. He was busily following Nora, trying to ensure she didn’t cause any brain damage in her hyperactive state.

Otherwise Neptune was wearing a toga and a golden circlet of equally golden leaves native to Mistral with strappy brown leather sandals. Sage was across the room wearing a ceremonial robe that was unfamiliar to the Menagerie born faunus with a wooden staff and Scarlet was both dressed as a stereotypical pirate and was clearly flirting with Yang’s uncle, who’d been lazy and added a small top hat and wraparound shades and was drinking liberally from a flask.

There were others they knew but the only others she could see at the moment were Fiona Thyme in what looked like wool footie pajamas and Maria Calavera in a hooded cloak, upside down and...doing a kegstand with two men near her age holding her feet, wearing what looked like a gimp suit, the other in slacks, suspenders, a bow tie and nothing else!?

Blake’s head snapped back to Yang who was staring, disturbed, at the same scene. Blake shuddered. Sun shrugged.

Sun: At least the old lady’s having fun.

Yang: Yeah. Kinda wished her fun didn’t make me wanna bleach my eyeballs though. [Grouchily and quiet] Where is he? I swear, if he’s skipping out on me...

Blake: I’m sure he’s just--

A ripple of laughter cut her off and Blake blinked, looked and--

Blake: [Disappointed] Late. *Big sigh* Oh boy.

Sun: [Breaks down into snorting laughter, turns away to avoid potential Yanger]

Yang: [Spins] What’s--

Jaune had arrived, but instead of whatever he’d agreed to wear with Yang he was wearing a large, stereotypical trash can around his torso with his bare arms moving awkwardly at his sides, his bare legs waddling slightly in the clanging and clunking costume. On his brightly grinning head was the top to the trash can, held in place by a strap that went under his chin.

Yang: [Sputtering incoherently]

Ruby: [Distantly] Yang, that’s so mean!

Yang: [Distressed] I didn’t--

Weiss: [Distantly] For shame, Yang Xiao Long.

Yang: [Upset] Nooo, it’s not--

Partygoer: Wow. Poor guy. [To his girlfriend] Please don’t ever do that to me. [Girlfriend hugs his arm]

Yang: [More upset] I swear--

Scarlet: [Finally looks over] *Squawking laughter*

Yang: [Even more upset] Stop, it’s seriously not--

Qrow: [Disappointedly] Firecracker. We raised you better.

Yang: [Can’t decide whether to cry or explode; pouts at Jaune while trying to glare] Baby, we talked about this!

Jaune: [Happily smiling] You talked. I ignored. Besides, everybody’s perfectly in character! Who am I to deny my nature!?

Yang: *Unhappy teakettle noises*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dragonslayer’s probably my favorite RWBY ship, Black Sun’s leagues better than Bumblebee (IMPO) and I really couldn’t help myself here.

[tigerseye46]

House of Madness

Worked on some possessed Pigsy au stuff! 

Warning: Possession, Forced Behavior, Pigsy is kinda yandere in this ngl

                                      ---------------------------------

 Four days has passed since Pigsy took him to this place, this horrifying place. It’s all icy, the walls barren, he almost tripped the first time Pigsy took him to the castle, now it has long carpets in the hallways, possibly in some failed attempt to please Tang. Regret wells up in him, he should have seen the signs, he should have noticed when Pigsy began to change but he didn’t, not until it was too late and now Pigsy was possibly lost to them forever.

 Tang sighs as he explores his prison, he’s tried to escape before but no matter what, Pigsy is one step ahead of him. The pig has left all sorts of traps to make sure Tang never leaves. He keeps an alarm that only he has the passcode to, if he gets the slightest idea that the scholar might leave, he’ll drop everything and come right on back even if he’s in the middle of a fight with Wukong. He stops at the mostly empty library that Pigsy set up, for now it is only filled with books from their apartment, the pig promises he’ll get more.

 The scholar picks up a book, scanning the cover of it, he sighs again and sits on a chair, opening it. He questions if he should try again, maybe he’ll get lucky? He shakes his head, he’s never been particularly lucky, sure, he got lucky enough to be chosen to retrieve the scriptures but the ensuing journey was certainly not lucky. He ponders on what to do, so immersed in his thoughts that he gasps when arms wrap around his waist and a kiss is placed on his neck.

 Pig-, not Pigsy whispers, “Hello, my love.”

 Tang holds his breath for a second. “He-hello.”

 “Somethin’ wrong, gorgeous?”

 “N-no… you just startled me is all.”

 Pigsy kisses his neck again. “You were so cute while readin’, I had to sneak up on ya.”

 The Buddhist shivers at the contact. “O-oh…” He’s hoping that will be the end of it, it never is.

  “What are ya readin’ anyway?”

  “Hm? O-oh.” He looks at the cover again. “Something about adventure.”

  “Haven’t been payin’ attention? Is my little freeloader distracted? What were ya thinkin’ about?”

  Thinking of ways to get away from you, Tang wants to say but he holds his tongue. “Just something.”

  “Were ya thinkin’ of me?

  Tang pauses then answers, “Yes. Yes I was.”

  The answer satisfies the pig and he kisses him on the lips. When Tang refuses to kiss back, the pig growls and pinches him, he opens his mouth in shock and Pigsy uses that as an opportunity to further the kiss, pressing him against his body. Tang kisses back reluctantly until Pigsy is satisfied and they separate, the Buddhist holds back tears.

  “There, that wasn’t so hard now.” He rubs a thumb against Tang’s cheek. Tang mumbles something. “What was that, love?” He lifts his chin. “Speak up, I can’t hear ya.”

  “N-nothing…”

  “It didn’t sound like nothin’. I can barely understand a word that comes out from your pretty mouth that way. Now tell me what’s wrong. I can make it all better.” The smile he gives is unsettling, it’s like his icy blue eyes are trying to read into Tang’s soul.

  Tang shoves him away. He shouts “You’re is what is wrong! Don’t you see it? You aren’t you! You’re possessed! The White Bone Spirit has taken control of your mind, fight it!”

  Pigsy blinks for a few seconds, his eyes returns to their normal blue then he blinks again and the same icy blue appears. He grins madly and steps towards Tang, the Buddhist backs up until he hits a bookshelf, a few books fall off. Pigsy grips him by the waist and crowds over him. “Oh, sweetheart, what are ya talkin’ about? I’m completely in my right mind.”

  The Buddhist scoffs. “Yea, right then tell me, what are we doing here? Why aren’t we in your noodle shop? Why aren’t we with the kids? How does none of this seem off to you?”

  “Sweetheart, I think ya ask too many questions. We’re here because I’m gonna treat ya like the royalty ya are, I told ya that in the beginnin’, shame ya didn’t seem to hear me. And who needs that stupid shop anyway? Wouldn’t ya rather live in a place like this? You never have to do anythin’. The only reason our kids aren’t here is because that jackass has them. Don’t worry I’ll get them for ya.”

  “Don’t you touch them!” He shouts. “You leave them alone! Don’t you dare a hair on my kids’ heads!”

  “Our kids, love. Our kids,” he corrects. “I wouldn’t hurt them, ya know me. All I want to do is kill that monkey, he’s gettin’ in the way of our happy family. He tried to take you away from me but no longer.” He kisses Tang then whispers, “He won’t be a problem, we can be a happy family, just like I always wanted.”

  “You leave him alone too!” He hisses and attempts to shove him again but the pig keeps him firmly against the bookcase.

  The pig glares at him. “What?! Why?! Are ya in love with ‘im? Ya are, aren’t ya? I won’t let ‘im take you away from me! I’ll kill ‘im!”

   “No! I’m not in love with him!”

   “Really?! Because it seems as if ya are! I’ll go fight ‘im right now and get our kids then you’ll only love me!” He adjusts his crown and turns away from Tang, he’s decked out in ancient Chinese armor, his cape swishing a bit as he walks.

   Tang ponders what to do, he can’t risk him fighting Wukong and his kids getting taken to this place. He grips Pigsy’s clothing and smooches him suddenly, the pig smooches back with eager intent. Tang’s heart thumps, this isn’t Pigsy but his mind is racing, he wants this, he wants Pigsy but he’s smart enough to know that this isn’t him and he’s only doing this so not Pigsy won’t capture his kids. He moves away from Pigsy and tries not to appear disgusted at the creepy grin the pig gives him.

   Pigsy replies, “Wow! Passionate, aren’t ya?”

   Tang blushes. “Qu- quiet.”

   “No need to be embarrassed, doll. I think it’s rather cute.”

   “Don’t call me doll!” His cheeks puff up.

   “Awwww. What, don’t like that nickname? Don't worry, I have a thousand other things to call you.” He backs away to finally give Tang some room to breathe.

   “Tch.” Tang narrows his eyes at him and he bends down to pick up the books littered on the floor, stacking them on top of each other, one is a translation of the Journey to the West. He holds it with one hand and as he’s about to put it with the others when Pigsy grabs his arm. The pig’s eyes observe the book. “Is something wrong?”

  He takes the book from the Buddhist’s hands. “Want to read this.”

  The Buddhist raises an eyebrow. “Why? You’ve never been interested in those stories before.”

   “Well, love, there’s a lot ya don’t know about me.” He runs a hand on the Buddhist’s cheek and winks. “I can’t wait until I get Tripitaka here. Gods, he’s going to be beautiful, after I get him and our kids, everythin’ will be complete.”

   Tang raises an eyebrow. He’s heard Pigsy comment about Tripitaka, him before. He hasn’t asked yet and he’s scared to ask. The comments paralyzed him. It was always something like “I can’t wait to go into Heaven and grab him,” “My gorgeous master, I’ll treat him like royalty,” “It would be great to have your idol here, wouldn’t it, love?” He still has no idea what the pig means and he knows he should try to figure out. Why is Pigsy planning on kidnapping him? Well, he’s already kidnapped him but the pig doesn’t know that. The only pig demon that Tang has ever been familiar with aside from Pigsy is Zhu Bajie. He sighs, he hasn’t seen Bajie in ages, the pig was and is his first love, he misses him and wishes he was here to save him. Pigsy is his second love, but Pigsy isn't Pigsy and he’s trapped and Tang needs to get out yet he wants information on why he wants Tripitaka so bad, curiosity is burning into him.

   “Pigsy?”

   Pigsy purrs. “Yes, love?”

   “Um… why do you want Tripitaka?”

   “Don’t be jealous, babe.”

   “I’m not!”

   “You’re both equals in my heart. He’s beautiful just like ya are, how could I not want him?”

   “What? You don’t even know him.”

   “I know him, doll but relax your pretty, little head. No need to be jealous.”

   “Don’t call me doll,” he repeats.

   Pigsy smirks and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Why not?”

   “Because I’m not a toy!”

   “You’re right, ya aren’t. You’re more like royalty, although I could treat ya like a doll if you want.”

   “Shut up.”

   Pigsy narrows his eyes at him and roughly pulls his chin up. “Now babe, it’s rude to tell your future husband to shut up.” The pig’s blue eyes glow as he says this, it makes Tang shiver, the chef’s fingers are cold like they have been for some time. His blue eyes glow brighter. “Never tell me to shut up again, got it?”

   Tang nods reluctantly. “Got it.” Pigsy smiles and lets go of his chin. Tang puts the rest of the books back and as he finishes, Pigsy lifts him into the air. “Wh-what are you doing?”

   “Almost supper time. I should treat ya like the king or queen ya are and escort you myself,” he replies and walks Tang to his dining room, book still in the pig’s hands as he takes him.

   They arrive at the dining hall, the pig gently lets him down and pulls out a large throne meant for Tang. He silently commands for him to sit down, Tang glares but he knows better to disobey, he sits down reluctantly then the pig pushes it slightly.

   Pigsy kisses his cheek. “Any preference on dinner, love?”

   “No…”

   “Alright, I’ll make ya somethin’ then we can chat and have some fun later,” he purrs. He places the book on the table and saunters off.

  Tang grabs the book from the wooden table, he stares at it, he wants his disciples, he needs his disciples to rescue him, he doesn’t know where Bajie or Wujing are but he hopes they know what’s happening, he hopes there’s a plan to rescue him. He presses the book against his chest, he misses them, it’s been so long since he’s last seen them. He’s all alone and he has no one to rescue him this time, he has to be smart, the kidnappings have made him smart.

  Tang ponders on the information he’s gathered. Pigsy doesn’t want to eat Tripitaka, well him so that’s good at least. His heart thumps at the reason the pig took him to this place, he hadn’t realized that Pigsy was in love with him, how long had the pig been keeping it in? He does love Pigsy, the real Pigsy and he wants to be with him, not until he’s freed, until they’re both freed.

   The Buddhist knows he’ll have to comply with what the pig says, get him to lower his guard down then escape when he has the chance. He knows Pigsy doesn’t want to hurt him, he just wants the scholar to be his, he can deal with it, it won’t be too bad, right? All he needs to do is find a way to get out and get rid of the White Bone Spirit. He prays the group finds a way to rescue him and Pigsy. He moves the book away from his chest and flips to a page. The memories of his disciples and their journey flood back to him, they were always there to keep him safe but they weren’t here and he had to fend for himself.

   Tears fall from his eyes as he reminisces, the cold air of the castle sweeps through him and he shivers. He leans back into his wooden throne, he’s thankful it’s not made of ice unlike that throne Pigsy makes him sit in constantly. He twists the bracelet around his wrist that he was forced to wear, pulling the collar of his tight outfit, he hates it, it isn’t him, it isn’t comfortable like his old cassock or his current outfit. He’s practically a doll for Pigsy to dress up and play with, he can’t bring himself to hate the pig for it, he knows he isn’t in his right mind.

   He hears the doors swing open and he shuts his eyes. He hears multiple plates being set on the table. Pigsy places a thumb under his eye, he shudders at the contact. “Love,” The pig starts. “Why are ya cryin’?”

   Tang sniffles and wipes his tears with his hands. “Oh I didn’t realize. It’s nothing.”

   The Buddhist opens his eyes when the pig runs a hand through his face, Pigsy is down on his knees. A soft look is on his face, it’s almost like he’s him again. “It’s not nothin’. You are my queen.” Tang rolls his eyes at the queen part as more tears roll down his face. “You deserve to be happy. What’s wrong?” He wants to tell Pigsy everything, he wants to open up to him, hug him, kiss him but this isn’t Pigsy and he continues sobbing. “Hey,” he whispers. “Ya don’t have to be sad. I’ll take care of ya, I promise.” He presses a kiss to the back of Tang’s hand and gets rid of his tears.

   Tang observes him and smooches his cheek, the demon purrs and the scholar can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He plants another kiss and enjoys the other purrs that come out of the demon. The pig has a lovestruck look on his face and Tang lets out a laugh. “I don’t doubt that. I’m fine now that you’re taking care of me.”

   Pigsy kisses him on the forehead and he turns red. “Okay but if anythin’ is botherin’ ya, you tell me. I hate seein’ ya upset. You deserve to be happy.”

   The monk beams. “Thank you.”

   Pigsy nods and sits in the throne right beside him. He holds the monk’s hand in his, Tang rests a head on his shoulder, for a moment he can pretend everything is fine. He blushes more when the pig places a kiss to his lips and feeds him, whispering gentle promises of love into his ear. Tang playfully pushes him away at one point when the pig uses a cheesy pick up line.

   “My love,” Pigsy purrs.

   Tang rolls his eyes and asks “Yes?”

   “Have I ever told ya how beautiful you are?”

   “Oh, only about a dozen times now. Although I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

   “Good cause I’ll tell ya as many times as I want.”

   “Wow, that almost sounds intimidating. Should I be scared?”

   “Just tellin’ the truth, dear.” He winks as he feeds Tang again.

   Tang accepts it and basks in their little domestic moment. “Do you ever run out of names to call me?”

   “Nope,” he replies. “I got a thousand in my head just for ya.”

   “I feel special,” he jokes as he chews on another spoonful.

   “As ya should, you’re mine after all.”

   Tang frowns for a second. Something about that statement makes him snap out of it. A pit of guilt forms in his stomach, he feels as if he’s taking advantage of Pigsy. The pig looks at him in worry and he has to look away because he can’t give in, no matter how many times he acts like Pigsy, he has to turn him away.

   The demon puts a hand under his chin to force the human to stare at him. The icy blue orbs quickly remind him of the possession, he bites his lip to prevent sobs from slipping past his lips. The demon furrows his eyebrows and Tang sends him a fake reassuring smile, Pigsy nods and continues feeding him.

   After dinner, the pig carries him to their room with the book of the journey still with them. The pig throws pick up line after pick up line at Tang while examining the book, he tries to scoot away but the arm wrapped around his waist pulls him in closer.

   Tang groans when another line is thrown at him. “You know you could do better than cheesy pick up lines.”

   Pigsy snarks, “Sometimes they work, I have other lines, just don’t know if you’re ready for that.” Tang huffs and leans against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey, we got time.”

   “Time? Time for what?”

   “For me to shower ya with as many compliments as there is. We have a lot of time.”

   “Oh, great. How wonderful,” he replies, sarcasm present in his voice but Pigsy thinks it’s sincere and gives him a peck on the side of his head.

   “So rose, do ya want to pay me a compliment back?” He winks, the scholar rolls his eyes and scoffs. The demon pinches his waist and he lets out a yelp, the demon’s eyes glow blue as they always do when he gets even the slightest bit angry or annoyed. “Well, do ya?”

   Tang freezes and takes deep breaths, he reminds himself that he has to get the pig to lower his guard down. As he cups the pig’s face, he trembles and touches his forehead with his, the other’s eyes dilate. “Yes… ummm… well… it’s embarrassing to say…”

   “Come on, babe. Any word that comes out of your mouth is stunnin’. Just say it.” Tang’s heart thumps at the compliment.

   “Well…” he taps his chin. “I love that you cook for me and never threw me out of your shop despite my unwillingness to pay. You care about me despite your gruffness…. And umm… yea.”

   The demon purrs and kisses him a whole bunch. “See, love, absolutely stunnin’.”

   “Thanks…”

   “I think that’s enough readin’ for tonight, babe. Readin’ this book bring back old memories of my journey.”

   “Huh?”

   “I’ll tell ya later. Let’s go to bed, can’t wait for ya to try on the other outfit I picked for you.”

   “Great…”

   Pigsy kisses him and gives him the silky pajamas he chose, thankfully for Tang they are more comfortable than his earlier clothes. Pigsy places his own crown to the side and gets into a better outfit. He snuggles up to the scholar, the demon rumbles, Tang tries not to coo on how cute this would be in normal circumstances. He adjusts himself so he is facing away from Pigsy, the demon whispers sweet nothings.

   Hours pass and Pigsy is snoring into his ear, Tang’s eyes droop and he looks at the bedside clock that the pig set up, it is now 3 am. Tang wriggles out of the pig’s grasp, he grabs a robe set aside on a chair, and puts it on. He tiptoes out of the room, once he’s farther enough, he bolts, he’ll have his escape tonight, nothing will stop him.

   He tries not to slip on the carpet as he dashes, he quivers at the air and wraps the robe around himself tighter. Despite the castle only having the two of them, it is humongous, he can barely wrap his head around it. He finds the icy stairs and grabs the railing, carefully walking down so he makes he doesn’t trip. He would tell Pigsy next time to cover the stairs with carpet or something, if there was going to be a next time that is.

   Tang smirks to himself and finds the front door of the palace, that would be too obvious. He searches around for another exit, he finds a window and tries desperately to thrust it open but he’s too weak. He scrambles around for another exit, his heart beats fast, he’s terrified of Pigsy waking up.

   There’s a door leading to the back entrance of the palace, does he risk it? He nods to himself, the door has no traps around it, if he’s quick enough he can run before the alarm sounds. He’s about to open the door when arms are placed on his waist and a figure rests a head on top of his own, his heart stops.

   “Sweetie…” he hears a growl. “What are ya doin’ up? I’ll give ya one chance to explain yourself.”

   He gasps and turns to face Pigsy, his eyes light up the darkness. “Ummm… well… I was looking for something to eat. I’m kinda hungry…”

   “DON’T LIE TO ME!” He shouts, his hands balled into fists, Tang flinches. “Ya were tryin’ to escape!”

   “N-no! I-!”

   “Yes you were! Don’t lie!” Pigsy slams a wall with his fist. “Your mine, ya hear?! MINE!”

   Tang swallows and backs up slowly, the pig is huffing out of anger, his fist still against the wall he punched. The Buddhist trembles, he’s regretting trying to run now, but a part of him wants to flee to escape Pigsy’s anger. When the demon turns, still with an angry expression, Tang feels goosebumps on his arms. The demon quickly lets go of his frustration and leans down to cup the scholar’s face. He smiles but Tang is trembling, scared out of his mind and crying, the pig’s cold fingers and dark smile made everything worse.

   Pigsy plants a kiss on his forehead. “I know you’re just confused. It’s okay. That monkey has poisoned your mind. I know ya want to be mine, ya just have been brainwashed.”

   Tang gasps, “I… I…”

   Pigsy shushes him. “It’s okay. We’ll be happy soon enough. I won’t let that monkey manipulate ya the same way he did master.”

   “Wh-what?”

   “Hm? I just said I wasn’t gonna let ya be brainwashed. Jeez, love bug, you’re supposed to be the smart one, although ya haven’t been actin’ so smart recently.” The pig let out a chuckle.

   The Buddhist rolls his eyes. He thought to himself, Pigsy had said “master,” Tang remembers when he use to go by master... wait… was he talking about Tripitaka? “No, not that! It’s just… you said something about your master? I wasn’t aware you had one.”

   “As I said, there’s a lot ya don’t know about me.”

   “Like?”

   “Now, babe, ya disobeyed me, don’t think ya have a right to know that information just yet.” Tang narrows his eyes, if he’s staying here, he needs information, he’s shaking but he needs to be smart. He pouts and gives the pig his best puppy eyes, the pig’s ears droop at the pout. “What’s wrong?”

   Tang wipes the tears left over from his fear, trying to make it seem as if he’s upset that the possessed demon refuses to tell him anything. “Well… it’s just…” he fake sniffles. “You refuse to tell me anything. I want to know more about you. I want to know what it was like before we met but you’re so secretive!” He covers his face with his hands and smirks when he hears Pigsy let out a whimper and attempt to pull Tang’s hands away to look at him. Tang wipes more fake tears.

   “Hey…. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep secrets from ya, I didn’t want to tell ya and have you get jealous!”

   The Buddhist hides his smirk, he has him in his grasp. He stomps his feet for good measure and takes a step back angrily when the pig attempts to pat him in reassurance. “Well you talk about Tripitaka all the time! You never tell me why, how are you so sure I’m not jealous now?!”

   “Babe…”

   “Don’t “babe” me!” He sniffles again. “I thought you didn’t care about me… I want to stay with you,” he lies through his teeth, “but you won’t say anything. How am I suppose to take that?”

   Pigsy frowns and shrinks back to his normal size. “I’m sorry… I’ll tell ya whatever it is you want.”

   He shows him a fake smile. “Thank you.”

   “But never run away from me like that again, okay?”

   Shivers shoot up Tang’s spine and he nods. “Okay…”

   “Good. Now let’s take ya back to bed then I’ll tell ya all ya want to know.” He carries the monk back to their bed, the monk sits up on the bed. “So what do ya want to ask first?”

   “Ummm… so you used to have a master?”

   “Yep, I was his disciple, we used to go on a lot of adventures together, most of which you have read about.”

    “Really? Because I would remember that.”

    Pigsy grabs the book from his bedside table and holds it up. “Yes ya have. It’s all written here, most of it anyway.”

    Tang’s eyes widen and he snatches the book from the demon’s hand. He scans it because the demon must be joking, he leans against the bed frame. “But this is about the Journey to the West…”

     “Yea, told ya that you have read most of it.”

     The gears in Tang’s mind spin as he tries to uncover the pig’s words. Master… Tripitaka… mentions knowing him…. a pig demon… no… no, no, NO! All the clues clicked but he doesn’t want to believe it. It can’t be, Tang is praying that he isn’t who he thinks he is. “Wait… are you- are you saying that your….” He trails off, he can’t finish his sentence.

      “That I’m the Zhu Bajie? Yes, I am, doll. Told ya I knew Tripitaka, he’s my gorgeous master. Took you awhile to figure that out.”

       “Are you- are you serious? Please tell me you’re joking!” Gods no, he can’t be Bajie! That would mean… that would mean his Bajie, his first love is also his second love and has been with him the entire and he never knew. He can’t be Bajie… his disciple who he’s longed to reunite with has been with him. A feeling of dread washes over him and he wants to laugh and to scream, Pigsy’s face is completely serious.

      “Why would I be jokin’ about this? I’m Zhu Bajie. It’s impressive, huh?”

      Tang feels his eyes water. The rake… the talk about Tripitaka… everything points to him being Zhu Bajie. “Ye- yea… impressive.” He thought it was a coincidence, he thought he would never see them again. He fixates his gaze at the book in his hands.

       Was Pigsy ever planning on telling him? Does this mean Sandy is Sha Wujing? His two disciples were going to fight their brother… this can’t be. Did Pig- Did Bajie love him? Love him back when he was Tripitaka? He always loved the pig, no matter what and… wow… This was the worst way to find out.

     Sobs escaped from his lips, his whole body shook and Pigsy wraps his arms around him in an attempt to comfort him. Tang gasps and stares at the book of his, of their journey.

      Bajie kisses the side of his head. “Awwww, babe, are ya cryin’?” Tang nods, he can’t look at the pig. “Ya don’t need to cry, I know how great I am but you’re even greater, just like Tripitaka is, I can’t wait to see him.” At the mention of his old name, he sobs louder. “Huh? Babe, don’t worry, you’re both equals. I won’t let ya or him get jealous. I’ll love you both forever and you’ll never be able to escape me.”

    As he stares up at the pig’s eyes, it hits him, he’s trapped in a house of madness.

[mischiefmakingmuses]

That Never-Ending Witching Hour! (Halloween Event)

{Closed event with @salmonidparty and @robocatandboy}

“OK, just be still for a moment longer, rina...and...done!”

Netalina had just finished styling the Duke Yuuki Yomi’s hair, all in preparation for Halloween. Although, to be frank, she wasn’t quite sure why he wanted this, seeing as they didn’t celebrate Halloween in Vitiu.

“How do I look?” Yuuki asked, swishing his cape dramatically. “Enigmatic and cool?”

“To be honest...you look very cute for a vampire, rina,” Netalina responded, stifling a giggle.

“What?! How am I supposed to catch the detective’s attention if I look cute?!” the Duke snapped. Netalina did her best to keep her composure.

“You say that as if they can’t appreciate cute things, rina. Either way...why did you want to dress up for Halloween, rina? I don’t think the detective is really aware of the celebration, number one...number two, she’s probably really busy tonight, rina. After all, it’s just a regular night here in Vitiu, isn’t it, rina?”

“Don’t ya get it, Netalina? If I look cool and mysterious...she can’t help but fall for me!” He placed his hands on cheeks, blushing, a familiar expression creeping across his face. “Hehehe! I have it in my mind to just drop in unexpected...as the night goes on, I’ll charm her with my mysteriousness and we’ll dance in the moonlight...fufufu!”

“Isn’t she still very much oblivious to how you feel, Duke Yomi?” Netalina asked, no punches pulled.

“S-shut up! Tonight’s the night! The night she’ll fall for me...I’ll make sure of it!” Yuuki huffed, still blushing.

“Besides...won’t it just start snowing once you show up in Guild Town, rina? There’ll be no moon to dance under!”

“Shouldn’t ya be headin’ back home right about now, Netalina?” the Duke hissed incredulously. She wasn’t about to ruin his night.

“Honestly...yes! My friends and I are gonna meet with Nobita, rina!” She smiled at Yuuki. “Gambit and I are a matching pair!”

“Okaaaaay, okaaaay, no need to gloat,” the ice spirit grumbled enviously. As if the Yokai’s earlier wrongdoings were forgotten, Yuuki smiled back at her. “Be safe on your way back!”

“I will! Thanks, rina!” Before Netalina left entirely, she turned back to the Duke. “And good luck, OK?”

“Thank ya.”

~*~★~♥~★~*~

Returning home through the Anywhere Door, Netalina’s first instinct was to go check on her friends. Entering the room, she saw Urien patting Smile down with some kind of white powder. The Ittangomen had chosen a simple, yet...complicated costume this year: he wanted to go as Ittan-Momen from GeGeGe no Kitaro. Though on paper it sounded extremely simple, it was actually quite difficult when your nearly four meter long ittan-momen is yellow in color and wants to be entirely white.

“Are you done yet,” Smile breathed impatiently. It seemed like they’d been at it for a while.

“Nope, sorry. Almost, though. Maybe we should’ve asked Doraemon for help,” Urien responded.

“Probably, this is gonna be fucking hell to get out later,” Smile mumbled.

“Guys, I’m back!” Netalina chirped. This caught the attention of not only Urien and Smile, but also Jizo and Gambit, who were sitting around the room as well.

“Welcome back, my loved one~♪” Gambit sang. He just stared at Netalina for a moment before placing a hand on the mask covering half his face. “Sorry, you can’t tell, but I’m actually winking.”

“You’re such a nerd, rina!” Netalina ran over, jumped into the air, and Gambit caught her. “But you’re my nerd, rina~”

“Speaking of...” Jizo quietly chimed in from his spot. The others looked over at him. “How did it go with the Duke?”

“I dunno, really. He wanted to look cool, but he doesn’t seem to understand that he has an inherent cuteness to him, rina.”

“And then he probably left to go hit on the detective, right?” Smile drawled. “How long do you think it’ll take him to realize that the detective doesn’t feel the same way?”

“I’ll give him a week,” Gambit commented.

“I’ll give him eleven minutes,” Urien laughed. “Now turn around, I’m almost done here, just a little more.”

“I’m so fucking tired of this powder,” Smile sighed, turning back to Urien.

“Dude, how do you think I feel?” Urien patted a bit more powder onto Smile’s nose, then grinned. “Alright, you’re done! Hopefully I won’t need to ride you Kitaro-style tonight, or else we’ll both be covered in this shit.”

“Probably not, right? I mean, tonight we’re just gonna be doing Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai with Nobita and his friends, right?”

“Yup! Maybe we’ll actually finish this year,” Urien hummed. “What even happened last time, do you remember?”

“Not a damn thing,” Smile laughed. He gazed at Urien, then at the others, looking cheerful. “Man, y’know...I actually kind of wish we could interact with Nobita’s friends all the time, not just on Halloween. Suneo and Gian...they could use an attitude adjustment, but...I wouldn’t mind getting to know them better. There’s just no time to do so...”

~*~★~♥~★~*~

As this all went down in the Yokai’s residence, Yuuki was slowly making his way from Mt. Spiral to Guild Town. As he floated through the drifting snow, all by his lonesome, he gazed up at the sky. Naturally, the snow clouds covered any trace of the moon, the only evidence it existed the brightness of the clouds. Yuuki looked down and sighed.

“Netalina really knows how to bring my spirits down, don’t she? It’s not easy confessin’ your love to someone...I really wish the detective liked me, though. Mm...I just wanna hold her in my arms...”

Yuuki put his hands on the sides of his face and sighed dreamily, another blush appearing across his features.

“...I wish I were strong enough to let her know how I feel.”

~*~★~♥~★~*~

“...hhhhuuuuh. Two wishes at once?”

Two long, droopy ears twitched, picking up the sounds of dreams in two different directions. Two hands were held out, grasping two visions of two different worlds. Two legs uncrossed, and two different types of wings fluttered silently in the void.

“...ufufu. I don’t see why not. After all, I’m feeling pretty...generous, tonight. Tonight’s supposed to be lots of fun anyway, isn’t it? Fufufu!”

The Metanomaly took the two illusions in each hand and brought them together, closer, and closer, until they fused into one. The crack underneath his eye lit up momentarily.

“Two wishes. One Abnoreality. Smile, you’ll get to talk to Nobita’s friends for as long as you please. And Duke Yomi, you’ll definitely be able to admit your feelings to the detective!”

Ayume crushed the illusion between his hands, tossing its dust into the air and creating a thick, ethereal fog.

“Have fun...fufufu!”

~*~★~♥~★~*~

The skin sweats, the breath shortens The wind stops, the door opens Hair stands on end, feet freeze The uninvited shall not enter here...

...except for one.

~*~★~♥~★~*~

When Urien awoke, he felt odd. He felt his face. He felt his neck. His sunglasses and scarf were missing...as was his costume in its entirety. Everything was completely white...he had to shield his eyes a bit from how bright it was.

He got up. As he moved, the ground rippled, like water. Urien looked around. Vast white in each direction...except...he saw someone. A black figure against the never-ending white.

“Koukishin to kyoufu ga! ♪ Kawaru gawaru oshiyose! ♪ Naze ni gokan dake ga togisumasareruno? ♪” The figure was singing, slightly gyrating to their own rhythm. Urien made his approach. “Shiranakatta sekai no! ♪ Maku ga jojo ni agaruyo! ♪ Dare mo kiita koto nai, kyousou ga yami ni hibiku~♪”

“Excuse me, but...who are you?” Urien asked.

“Sokonoke, noke, mononoke ga tooru~! ♪” The figure turned around, but before Urien could see their face, they had transformed into him...albeit in his intended Halloween costume. When the figure spoke, it spoke in his voice. “Konoha shigure to tomo ni yatsura arawaru. ♪ I’m Urien Sirius Okuro!”

“...no, you’re not. That’d be me.”

“Uso! ♪” the doppelganger chirped, mirroring Urien’s signature dance. The doppelganger transformed yet again, into a slightly shorter figure, black with multicolored spatters all over. “You’re right! ♪ You’re right! ♪ I’m not Urien, you are! ♪”

“Er...OK. Then, who are you?”

“Oh, I don’t really know. But I know where we are! We’re inside your mind!” Urien tilted his head slightly and making a thinking pose, before the figure began to laugh in a deeper voice and gave him a menacing look. “You’ve been possessed! ♪”

“Ehhhh?!” Urien reeled back in horror. “By what, exactly?!”

“By me!” The figure stuck their tongue out and winked, their voice returning to normal. “You want me to stop? I think I learned plenty already.”

Before Urien could answer, he awoke yet again. This time, he was outside under the moonlight, in a field near a fence. Before him was the figure he’d seen in his mind.

“What the fuck,” Urien breathed, unamused. “Where are we?”

“Oh, now I don’t know. I’m not even sure why I’m here! But I am, I am, I am here! And so are you! And so are all your friends!” The figure twirled and began to sing again. “Sokonoke, noke, mononoke ga odoru~♪ Dare mo kare mo osuki ni odori kurueyo~♪”

“What?! Where are my friends?! What did you do to them?!” Urien cried out, making a gesture as if he were going to grab the figure.

“Hyuu doro doro~♪ Hyuu doro doro! ♪” The figure shook their hands playfully as they danced and pursed their lips. “I didn’t do nothin’! This place is real weird. It’s kinda like a dream. A real big one. Everyone is dreaming.”

“...everyone is dreaming...?” Urien looked up at the moon.

What the hell was going on?

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Hngh I want to know what happens next in superhero au so bad

previous part

they have a lair. they have an actual, real life lair. a superhero lair hidden underground about a mile outside the city, underneath an old factory that virgil wouldn't have looked twice at had he not been lead by the others through the gate. in the doors, down hallways, through yet another gate, down a long, long flight of spiral stairs, into a dark room, through a locked mechanical door that whirs open courtesy of codebreaker, and into the huge room that looks like something straight out of a science fiction movie. they have a lair, in 2019. virgil feels like he's just stepped straight into an alternate dimension.

"sit," the ringleader tells him as he walks by, cane tapping and echoing in the huge room at slow, uniform intervals. virgil’s wide-eyed wonder draws a giggle from the medic, of whom comes up to him with a hop in his step and peers at him with knowing eyes. he leans forward with his hands clasped behind his back, rolling back and forth from the ball of his foot to the heel in giddiness. his skirt swishes with the motion, seemingly just as lively as the man himself is, and virgil finds it almost comforting despite the simultaneous annoyance at the cheery disposition.

“want some nutrient-infused water? it’s got lots of vitamins and stuff that’s good for you in it! and it tastes like strawberries!” the medic asks, not stopping to wait for virgil’s answer before producing a small bottle the size of his palm from the inside of his cape. at first, virgil wonders incredulously if he keeps little water bottles hidden in tiny cape pockets for spur-of-the-moment use, but then the medic sticks his fist out to drop the bottle into virgil’s hand and his cape flutters open to reveal something that looks like a fanny pack strapped to his chest just above the bottom of his ribcage. it has a heart and cross symbol identical to the ones on his waist and shoes, and virgil realizes that it must be some sort of first aid kit or medical pack.

“oh, uh--” virgil starts, about to decline, but the small frown that forms on the medic’s face makes him feel too guilty to pass it up. with a laboured sigh, virgil accepts the bottle, bringing it up closer to his face to examine it. it looks pretty normal, like water that’s lightly tinted pink. the bottle itself is more like a vial, just without the rounded bottom. this could easily be poison, but they are superheroes, and virgil doubts that heroes would go as far as to try to kill him, even if they’re not completely convinced he’s not their enemy. 

as virgil pops the cap off sinks into the chair the ringleader provided him, the scent of the water wafts up toward him almost immediately. it’s potent, but it doesn’t smell bad, necessarily. artificial strawberry assaults his senses, overpowering him in a way that reminds him of the awful, cavity-inducing candies he used to steal from his grandma’s purse and munch on when he was younger. it’s not exactly like how he’d expect poison or chemicals to smell, but then again, a lot of poison isn’t supposed to smell like anything, so.

even though he really, really doesn’t want to drink this stuff, the medic is staring him down expectantly, bright blue puppy dog eyes boring into his soul. it’s like those eyes have picked him up and laid him in clouds, pulled a warm blanket over him and wished him goodnight. a crackling fireplace, hot chocolate and marshmallows, fuzzy socks and hardwood floors and fluffy rugs. it’s like looking into his eyes washes all of his worry away, like they pull out all of his sorrow and hardship and leave him with only pure warmth, and virgil realizes with a jolt that he’s already downed the whole bottle without even feeling it.

upon seeing the now-drained bottle in his hand, empty save for a few trace amounts of leftover liquid, virgil winces. he waits for something to go wrong, to feel a burning in his throat or a headache or to faint or even for him to just flat-out die, but there’s none of that. just the effluvious tang of an offensive mockery of strawberry flavouring coating his mouth and throat. virgil wrinkles his nose and glares at the clear bottle as if it personally threatened him.

“hey, med, come check the counter with me, ‘kay?” the prince says suddenly, an unreadable look flashing in his golden eyes as he watches the two of them before being masked by friendliness when his gaze meets virgil’s own. virgil’s suspicion goes nowhere, seemingly dissolves into thin air when the medic lays a comforting hand on his shoulder through the dark cloak. his touch almost burns with warmth, infuses him with calm, and virgil’s lashes flutter under the weight of his sudden onslaught of sleepiness. then the medic is gone, disappears through another one of those weird high-tech spaceship doors with the prince, and the haze over virgil’s mind slowly begins to clear.

“you say you are not the storm. who are you, then?” the codebreaker suddenly speaks up, smooth voice drifting over from his spot at some sort of panel. it glows brightly, so blinding virgil can’t make out any kind of images or words that it might display, and yet codebreaker somehow seems to be interacting with it effortlessly. he floats there in front of it despite there being a chair right beside him, back hunched and knees pulled up to his chest. his head is tilted, rests on his shoulders as if he’s too weary to hold it up, and his eyes only flit to virgil once before returning to observe the panel in front of him through his hologram face-screen thingy.

“don’t look at the console for too long. it’s not healthy. code-y over there is the only one who can actually see what’s on it. his holovisor has some sort of light filter, or something,” the ringmaster remarks to virgil’s left, leaning on his cane with an air of boredom that virgil doesn’t think is very fair to display. he inspects his nails like he has somewhere better to be, but he’s wearing gloves, so it just ends up making him look weird. then again, the michievous look in his eyes has a hint of knowing to it, so maybe he’s trying to look stupid on purpose just to fuck with him. 

“i’m… my name is virgil. im just a guy, man. like i said, i work at a shitty job and still live with my parents. i’m not some… crazy evil supervillain,” virgil tells them, and funnily enough, that desperation he’s been feeling this entire time seems to have completely vanished. he’s wary, but not afraid, which is completely different to how he was feeling just thirty minutes ago.

“virgil altera, born to a liliana altera and a harold whitman. mother is an authour who hasn’t been published in nine years, father is the ceo of an insurance company. you were kidnapped from a local park at age four and stayed missing for five years, until you randomly turned up wandering along a highway outside of a town hundreds of miles away. you were badly beaten and starved, yet were somehow able to walk almost perfectly despite your dangerous condition. you remembered nothing about where you had been, and there was no trail to determine the assailant or where they took you. the case went cold, you returned to your parents, and you were enrolled in middle school by the next year. you graduated from high school with no notable achievements, started working as an office temp, and have been presumably been doing the same thing ever since. an odd story for someone who claims to be a ‘normal guy’, don’t you think?”

okay then. so the codebreaker can just somehow get his whole life story in a matter of seconds. it’s fine. this is fine.

the ringleader raises his brow, the one that’s visible, and lets out a disbelieving snort. “kidnapped? beaten? starved? sounds like a villain backstory to me.”

“yes, well. i suppose we should hear from virgil first before making any rash decisions,” the codebreaker says, finally looking up from the screen and straight at him. virgil draws in on himself, pulse quickening with the amount of information they have on him this easily. the chair is hard underneath his legs, of which are slowly going numb, and virgil can feel the air slowly getting colder as his panic increases. neither of them seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t mention it. the ringleader taps a foot impatiently while virgil just stares, silent and fidgety as he tries to figure out what to say.

“i… i don’t really remember any-- any of that stuff. well, i kinda remember walking on the highway, and someone taking me to a police station, but not the-- not anything before that. i’ve tried so hard to remember but the most i got with my therapist was the word ‘hens’ printed on some sort of paper. that’s really all i remember, i promise,” virgil mutters, swallowing hard under the ringleader’s icy look. the codebreaker says nothing, only narrows his eyes slightly as if he’s contemplating something, and then he turns right back around with his coat flapping behind him as he resumes his position at the bright panel. the ringleader huffs once and rolls his eyes, leaning forward and hoisting himself up onto the raised platform the console resides on instead of walking around to the other side and using the set of stairs there.

the two seem to talk in hushed tones to each other, ignoring virgil’s presence completely, something that both irritates him and relieves him. although he wishes they’d stop being so secretive and just tell him what’s going on and how to fix it, he much prefers the disregard than the intense scrutiny. it gives him a moment to breathe, to try to rein in his frustration and panic. instead of speaking up, he decides to look around the room again, takes in the rows and rows of screens and buttons and switches. it all looks extremely high-tech, futuristic, almost, like he’s just boarded an alien spaceship and is now seeing the ship’s control room. glowing blue light comes from everywhere, enhancing the dim atmosphere with something clandestine.

“alright. if you’re not the storm, then why do you have the same powers? how’d you deflect my whips?” the ringleader asks loudly, snapping virgil out of his reverie. his face is mostly neutral, but there’s a hint of annoyance underneath that suggests a bruised ego. virgil jumps to  his feet and stands at attention, something in the ringleader’s tone making him afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t pay attention. “because from what we saw, the storm was fighting us like normal, and then suddenly stopped in the middle of an attack and just dropped out of the sky. we thought it was a trick, so we all fell in and approached together. but instead of an ambush, you were just standing there on the ground not even acknowledging us. i tried to attack, you blocked it, and then instead of dodging princey’s punch, you cowered. so if you truly aren’t the storm, then why do you look like him? why do you have the same body, the same clothes, the same face and voice? why can you use the same powers?”

and virgil honestly doesn’t know what to say. he fell out of the sky? how is he even alive right now?

“i… i don’t know, okay?! all i know is that i woke up standing on that street. you tried to hit me with those glow-y whip thingies, so i tried to put my hands up so it wouldn’t hit my face, and then fucking lightning came out of my hands! i didn’t do it on purpose! how the fuck am i supposed to know? if i did, i wouldn’t have walked this whole time with these stupid bandages on my feet instead of shoes! and now my feet have rocks in them and i’m bleeding and i think my leg is hurt somehow and i feel like i’m gonna pass out any minute and i’m just tired! i want to go home! i want to go back to my stupid boring desk job and live my stupid boring life! i’m not a villain! i’m not… i’m not a killer,” virgil chokes out, voice breaking before he can truly end his rant. and it’s true, his feet do hurt. they feel blistered, sore, sting with the specific type of pain reserved for a cut. his right leg is throbbing, shaky like it could give out any minute, and his arms are so weak he can barely raise them above waist-level. he’s hungry, and angry, and he just wants to sleep. he probably looks like a zombie right now, and he feels like it too.

“wait! you’re hurt?! why didn’t you tell me? that water just isn’t enough to heal you,” the medic’s familiar voice comes as a worried exclamation from the direction of the door he and the prince disappeared into, and virgil turns to see both of them re-entering the room. the prince looks confused, and the medic immediately jumps into action, fretting over him with small touches here and there that alleviate just a little bit of the ache. virgil is pushed gently back into the chair, and then the medic’s gloves are tapping indeterminable patterns into his blood-stained pant leg. it hurts for a moment, feels like a burning sensation as the little hearts on the pads of his glove fingers glow, but then he can feel an odd numbness taking over everything else. he can feel his skin stitching itself back up, his muscles releasing tension, the nerves calming down. it leaves him exhausted, the medic perhaps even more so, what with the way he lets out a strained breath and wobbles to fall down to sit back on the floor. the prince immediately shoots over and kneels behind the other superhero, propping him up to sit at a more normal angle while he catches his breath, and virgil almost feels kinda bad that he sacrificed so much of his energy to help him.

“hey, are you-- are you messing with my emotions?” virgil asks, and the medic looks at him inquisitively from where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the chair. his skirt is spread out around him, draped over his legs and the glassy, reflective black floor. virgil doesn’t really know how a skirt is practical in battle, but he’s not exactly the expert here, so.

“of course! that’s what i do. you were scared, so i made you relaxed instead!” the medic tells him, happy eyes and happy smiles and despite his previous calm, virgil feels annoyance prick at his chest.

“don’t do that. that’s not cool,” virgil says, voice hard, and this time, he feels even more guilty when the medic shrinks in on himself meekly. the prince narrows his eyes dangerously, posture raising in warning, and virgil doesn’t pay him a single bit of attention despite his own fear. “i get that you’re trying to help, but i don’t want you to do that to me without my permission. it just confuses me and makes me tired. please don’t do it unless i say you can, alright?”

his voice is much softer this time, less accusatory, and his gentler approach is obviously the correct one. the medic perks up again, eyes wide as he nods vigorously, and he squeaks out a small “sorry! i’ll be more careful!” before placing his fingers on another bruise and repeating the process of healing all over again. the prince slumps back, still on guard but less confrontational, and the quiet resumes.

eventually, after a couple more rounds of this, filled with the medic ‘tsk’ing at every scrape and gasping at the state of his soles, virgil feels like he can actually stay conscious again. the medic looks a little rough, like he could pass out any second, so the prince picks him up bridal-style with ease and says something about “saving the damsel in distress”. the medic’s weary giggles echo all the way down the corridor for a few long moments after the two of them leave, presumably to rest elsewhere.

“i have come to the conclusion that you are the villain known as ‘the storm’,” the codebreaker says stoically once the noise completely vanishes. the ringleader’s head snaps over to look at him, surprised enough to stumble a bit on his cane, although he rights himself and resumes his put-together appearance as quickly as possible anyway. the words are like a knife through virgil’s heart, an electrified death sentence. they didn’t listen. they didn’t believe him. there’s no way he’s making it out of here. he’s gonna be a prisoner the rest of his life, paying the price and enduring the punishment for a crime he didn’t commit. “the evidence put together all suggests that you are the storm, and you do have powers. you admitted to using them yourself, albeit unintentionally. by all accounts, you are a powered individual and the villain we have been fighting for the past three years.

“however, i don’t believe that this is the full story. i think there’s more to it, that there has to be something else we’re missing. although i have not come to an agreement within myself on whether i believe you are completely innocent yet, i believe that you believe what you are saying, and that you think your version of events is the truth. if you truly do not remember this, remember being the storm and fighting us and wreaking havoc, then many questions have been raised that must be addressed. why do you not remember your villainous activities? why were you unaware that you have powers in the first place? is this the work of someone else? if so, then who? what is their goal? why are they using you as an intermediary for their influence? there is much to think about, and i cannot waste any more time just standing around,” the codebreaker finishes, ramblings coming to an abrupt halt as his holovisor drops open in front of his eyes again and he starts swiping and tapping at the bright console for the third time. virgil wants to know exactly what it is he’s doing over there, but he doesn’t really think he’s in the position to ask at the moment.

“for now, i’d like you, prince, and medic to train him. show him how to use his powers, and how to fight. he could be a viable asset and potentially act as a stand-in to fight villains while i work,” codebreaker commands pointedly at the ringleader, of whom opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but decides against it and simply nods.

“alright. virgil, right? come with me. i hope you don’t have anyone waiting for you at home, because you’re staying here for the time being,” the ringleader tells him, a snarky grin plastered on his face as he turns to stride over to the same door that the prince and the medic left through. virgil just stands there, mouth agape, unable to process everything that’s happening. he’s staying here? in the weird superhero lair? he’s gonna live underneath an old factory in this weird sci-fi spaceship bunker until they… what? figure out why he’s the storm, why he has powers? are they going to help him finally figure out what happened to him when he was a kid?

“are you coming?” the ringleader asks, voice low and seductive, but not in the way virgil is used to hearing from his misogynist coworkers in the break room. his voice doesn’t promise sex, or money, or fame. it promises adventure, promises answers, and virgil groans internally when he realizes that there’s absolutely no way he could ever say no to that.

small taglist: @illogical-anxieties @kazykazu @sharp-as-hyalus @bookwyrminspiration @thekitchenpan @bunny222

[slugmanslime]

Normal

Pairing: N/A; Slight GoChi, Slight Chiccolo Warnings: dragon mention, cursing, insults Word Count: 1,867 Fic Type: Two-part drabble

so i got the idea to do some country!chichi and i was playing around with the dialect and this happened

well that and first person pov so this could either be neat or pretty terrible

this is going up on my ff.net account as well! author name: slugmanslime

“You can NOT be serious!”

“Have you ever known me not to be?”

My arms are crossed tightly over my chest, and have been for so long I’m starting to sweat just a little. Part of me knew that this day was going to come, even though I’d liked to live in the little dream that maybe it wouldn’t and Gohan would make friends with other children his age, and we could set up playdates and… Goku used to tell me I worried about him too much. He was always met with a swift swat to the ear and a semi-playful remark about him not worrying enough. What I wouldn’t give to have that over this right now!

“ChiChi, look…” He has no right to go dragging his hand down his face like that! Like I was wearing him out or something—we’ve only been talking (read: arguing) about this for a measly two hours. This was nothing in my book, I am the queen of stubbornness and the reigning champion of the household decisions!

“Piccolo, I ain’t gonna budge on this one! I know you know him well, you trained Gohan yourself—without my consent I might add—and while I appreciate you comin’ to me about this first, my answer is still absolutely not.” My jaw is set firmly but to seal the deal I hit him with one of my “Mama Said No” looks; yeah, that’ll show him.

It gives me a real pain in the neck to look him in the eyes when he stands all straight and immovable like that, and I know he knows that, too. He was doing it on purpose! Prick… “Trust me, Dragon Breath, I heard you the first four hundred times you no, but if you could pipe down for approximately 30 seconds and let me explain myself, it would benefit both of us.”

“Your son has a heart of gold and the brat is in love with that damned beast.” It’s not fair for him to look at me like that. I just know he’s been practicing the art of mother persuasion with Gohan, no way Demon Brains here would be capable of that on his own! “I’ve done my research. Even if I hated every minute of it—which I did—I talked to a few humans about this; pets are apparently a staple of childhood in multiple human cultures.”

I was starting to feel the faint throbbing of a budding headache, but I relented only enough to pinch the bridge of my nose. Piccolo was not allowed to make good points like this, he just wasn’t! It was always so off-putting to argue with him; Goku certainly never put up as much of a fight, but that’s because he knew I was right! Well, that, and he usually left most of the important decisions up to me.

Here I am, starting to get the distinct feeling that… I may not be… entirely right this time.

“Well, maybe you gotta point, but a DRAGON is nowhere near the kinda pet I want my son havin’! Why cain’t he have a puppy instead? Y’know, something normal and easily house-trainable?”

It takes me a long moment to look up at him, but I don’t have to strain as hard this time. He was slumped, back resting against the doorway to the kitchen. So what if I didn’t hide my smirk—he tried to look so nonchalant hunched over like that, but I knew it was because he was so damned tall. I wondered if he knew that his antennae twitched when he thought too hard. Maybe one day I would have the heart to tell him.

When he sighed though, that’s when I knew that that day would not be today. It was one of those “I’m Piccolo the surly ex-Demon and I shouldn’t be forced to try and compromise with dumb earth women” sighs. It belongs at the top of the list of things that grated my nerves. “If he wanted a puppy, don’t you think he would have brought one home by now? And anyway, if trainability is what you’re worried about, don’t. That dragon was circus-bred, trained from birth. So, there. No more qualms, yes?”

“Woah, hey, I never said that was my only pr—“

“Gohan knows how to hunt, and you taught him how to make a schedule. Icarus will never go hungry.”

“… Icarus? You mean you know that beast’s name?”

My smirk minutely wider at the peculiar shade of violet that was tinging my Namekian houseguest’s ears. Now wasn’t that just so darn adorable? Sometimes I forget just how easy it is to get him all flustered.

“Gohan only mentioned it to me 37 times in one day. How could I forget?” I watch him carefully as he meticulously studied a very specific spot on the ceiling, and then my hardwood floors, followed by gazing at something very interesting out the window.

“Of course, how silly of me to ask!... But I know you secretly enjoy seein’ him happy. I can see it plain as day no matter how gruff your little mask is.” My smirk is definitely a full-blown smile now, turns out that Green Bean was a full body blusher. I could see the heat creeping down what little expanse of throat he showed.

“Well, from the way you’re talking, it’s almost as if you don’t.” Perhaps Piccolo was too flustered to understand the magnitude of that sentence, but it doesn’t matter. It was my turn to blush now, but it sure as hell wasn’t from embarrassment. I’m completely livid now, and I know it’s apparent, from the way my jaw is clenching to the flames that practically erupt from my eyes.

“Now just who in the hell do you think you are? I love my son, and I have always done what was best for him, no matter what!” I can tell he wants to interject so I throw up a hand to stop him, Mama’s on a roll now. “You wanna insult me like that? Fine, see if I care. But this is your responsibility now. If that dragon even thinks about grazin’ my garden,” I tick up one finger on the shushing hand that had morphed into a vengeful fist, “or ruinin’ my clothes line,” followed by a second finger, “or reckons its fine to destroy my firewood reserves,” and a third finger to boot, “or, I dunno, MAIMS my SON—” My fingers curl into a fist at this moment, quivering with affront and anger, before a single finger points at him ever so daintily. “Then it’s your hide I’m after. And don’t think for a second that I’m gonna to take it easy on you, either!”

That—that—how rude can a person get? And to say that to my face in my own home? I give him my back as I try to find some composure; the embarrassment part is starting to shine through, and I can’t help but start second-guessing myself. Who is he to talk about what’s important for a childhood? Gohan’s already lost so much of it, no thanks to Piccolo himself. But then… here he is trying to make amends. Am I hurting my baby boy by stopping him…? Gohan has handled worse but, wild animals like that are dangerous!

Mild throat clearing behind me derails my train of thought, and I have to take a few heavy breaths before I can turn to face him. Huh. Sheepish is a new expression to grace his features, usually its standoffish or peeved. It doesn’t matter, I am a woman of standards and respect and I deserve to be shown some!

“ChiChi I… that was out of line.” I thought seeing him meek like this would make me feel better, but it just makes me sad. His Adam’s apple bobs under his scarf, I can tell by the way it shifts; he must be nervous. He should be.

“Piccolo, I really don’t wanna hear it. I’ve said my piece and you’ve said yours. By all means, go relay the news to my son. Let him know I need him home by sundown, we have some ground rules to cover.”

He gives me a wide birth when I sweep past him into the kitchen, stubbornly pushing down the ache of sadness and lingering sting of insult. The tell-tale swish of his cape dragging on the floor tells him that he is thinking about leaving, and part of me wishes he would. But of course, the other part wishes he would stay, and give me some damned reassurance that I wasn’t failing as a mother like he seemingly thought.

Sometimes you just don’t get what you want.

You would think that with a house as quaint and tidy as ours, filled with books, memories, and good food, it wouldn’t feel so empty. The windows are still open, letting early fall air purge any ill feelings that might remain. It doesn’t quite reach me, although I can feel its whispers tugging at the edge of my gown. Dredges of loneliness settle at the bottom of my heart, and images of Goku flicker through my mind. Laughing, smiling, wolfing down the huge meals I would make him. I’m thankful that his son doesn’t eat nearly as much, although some nagging feeling told me this was just the beginning; my arms ache at the thought even though the pot I’m stirring would have been an appetizer for my husband.

The stew is simmering in no time, so I figure why not take a moment of rest for the day. I deserve it after wading through that malarkey all afternoon. Jolly Green Jackass is such an enigma to me. First, he steals my kid; I trace his dumb pointy ears on the solid oak of the kitchen table. Trains him, protects him, manages to make sure he gets home to us safe; my hand flops over my minds image of his snaggle toothed face imprinted on the tabletop. He lingers around my house while Goku is away training, he’s even… my face ends up meeting the table where my doodle had been, and my breath fogs the polished wood when I sigh in defeat. Piccolo cares about Gohan, that much is for sure. I know I should trust him, and I do, of course I do! But it’s just not what I had envisioned for Gohan…

That shouldn’t matter; Piccolo is his closest friend, the man—alien? —he looks up to. He’ll keep my little boy safe. With a newfound determination, I sit ramrod straight; but that doesn’t mean he’ll be traipsing through my house anytime soon without a heartfelt apology! Papa didn’t raise himself no doormat, I am a woman to be contended with.

It feels nice to settle back in the chair, and let the crisp breeze finally take me. My arms instinctively curl around myself once more; now it’s time to wait. The sun is setting, and I gotta think of a way to explain to a cranky 6-year-old that there will be no dragons sleeping at the foot of anyone’s bed tonight.