duckiesandlemons: (Default)
[personal profile] duckiesandlemons
Title:  Angel Hugs
Rating:  G
Fandom:  Super Sentai (Goseiger, Shinkenger, Gokaiger, Go Busters, Kyoryuger)
Character(s):  Alata, Shiba Takeru, Captain Marvelous, Sakurada Hiromu, Kiryu Daigo
Summary:  The Goseigers are actual angelic horrors and Alata is a red who believes in the magic of hugs.  Old fic from a couple years back I decided to post.  Intensely, high key, Takeru/Alata lmao.
Warning(s):  None

Sometimes Alata forgets to keep a hold of himself.

His corporeal form starts stretching, thinning, and he can feel the actual him push through.  Skeletal wings and harsh fire, pressing up against his being to reach tendrils out to the people.  He reigns it in just as fast, Eri’s own presence reeling him in to keep him in check.  “Alata,” she chides with her usual smile.  When it’s her who forgets, he does the same.

Skicks are easy to keep together, breathing in the very air that people take to fuel their physical form.  Limitations are forgotten, the air is pure, and Alata lets himself fall back to take it all in.

Seaicks are harder to keep together.

Hyde, who is calm yet overzealous, keeps such a tight lock on his form that Alata forgets that he even has one.  Menacing and vast, born from the deep waters of the ocean to burst out into the light.  Hyde has forgotten himself once, too lost in his own thoughts, that they almost didn’t catch it.  Blue tendrils reaching out, teeth hooking in to snag at the others own energies.  When Alata had turned his head to look all he saw was teeth upon teeth.  Mouths that seemed to come in on themselves, eyes looking down, the pressure of the sea crashing down.

It took him and Moune to push Hyde back into his physical essence, it took Agri to notice that it had been happening.

In contrast, Landicks are quick bursts.  Hard to catch.  The discipline they hold on their forms is to be admired, but then again they are also the easiest to pull apart into fine strands.  Ribbon upon ribbon pooling into the earth to become one with it.  The discipline, to pull themselves back in a finger snap, is a requirement practically.

Agri, with a solid presence morphed into the echoing thunders of powerful tremors that rocked the ground.

Moune, with the fleeting grace and the natural gentleness of dew soaked leaves, who brought vividness and solidarity.

They’re too fast, Alata’s never gotten a good look.

Eri is similar to him, broad wings that fan out in a shimmer of pink.  Fueled by happiness, smiles, the warmth of her own fire, the gentleness of her wind, her own reach is gentle caresses that flit across people’s backs.  All of that makes Eri what she is, wings, eyes, fire, and Alata adores it all.

He adores everyone and their forms, pressing close and letting their presence mix.  Ghostly limbs twining in the ether, wings brushing wings till they lock, Alata enjoys it all.


He lets go of his physical form once.

Of course the headers are another physical manifestation of their powers, called upon by will to do their bidding.  It controls, it tempers, and the miracle headers are an amplification of that.  Their physical form will always flicker when taking on the powers that the headers provide.  He’s protecting Shinken Red when he does this, wings coming out to encompass Takeru in a cocoon of gold trimmed feathers attached to a burning flame that burns just as hot in Takeru.

If Takeru notices, he makes no movement to do so and easily transitions into using the Kyoryuu Origami.

Alata almost contemplates keeping himself in his actual form, threaten Buredoran with righteous fires, imbue Takeru’s sword with the punishing force to rival the fiercest lightning strike.  Something tells Alata it would not work, regardless, so when he unfurls his wings he is standing there back in a tangible form.  

It is only after the fight that Takeru gives him a look.  Side long, contemplative.



Takeru thinks on it, before shaking his head.


Of course, Eri finds out later and she gives him a look.

“You know you’re not supposed to,” she tells him.

“I know, but--”

Alata feels like for Takeru, he’d do it again.  But he doesn’t tell Eri that.


Marvelous seems to know right off the bat.

He doesn’t even say anything about it after their initial clash.  It’s only after, when they’re resting on the bow of the Gokai Galleon, does he say something.

“Reason you’re hiding a big secret like that?”

“Secret?” Alata puts on his usual smile.  “I’m not sure what secret you’re talking about.”

“Using the Goseiger power won’t turn my crew or my ship into anything twisted, will it?”


Alata pauses, and looks at Marvelous with this somewhat fascinated look.  Then again, Marvelous isn’t exactly human himself.  Perhaps his species could easily pick up on the trace senses of energy his form gives off?  Perhaps he knew because he holds a physical form just like Alata?

Marvelous let’s out a whoosh of air, “You’ve been feeling me up all this time.  Flattering, but not right now.  Answer the question.”

“It shouldn’t, I mean,” Alata fumbles for words.  “Tensou is just a manifestation of the power which makes us up into a usable form, and lets us manipulate things.  It’s not a part of us.”

“That’s all I needed to know.”

There’s something that sounds suspiciously like “I’ll never understand angels” after it but Alata finds himself smiling.  A little flushed, considering that he hadn’t meant to let his ethereal form reach out and touch Marvelous as it had. It’s a good sign, he thinks, even if Hyde is going to scold him later or that the Landick siblings will insist he learns better discipline.

It means that he’s left the world in good hands.


Takeru lets Alata sprawl on top of him in ways that would make Jii have a heart attack.

Takeru, lone stalwart that he is, let’s Alata lay across his lap with arms around his waist.  Takeru, kind that he is, will let Alata practically tackle him to the floor and spread himself out on Takeru’s torso.  Alata will stretch, relax, and then let himself melt into a boneless puddle.  Takeru is warm, the soft traces of ember from his mojikara mixing with Alata’s own flames.

When he’s around Takeru like this, when both can do nothing but wait for the Gokaigers to finish their own mission, he tends to forget himself.  His physical form starts pulling itself apart slowly, barely noticeable.  A single thread that pulls and pulls, until Takeru places a hand on Alata’s back.

“I don’t need to be smothered,” it’s quiet, calm, but Alata brings himself back together.

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a smile that Takeru easily returns.

As if to ensure that Alata doesn’t lose his hold again, Takeru’s mojikara winds itself intimately with the wisps and barely there threads of Alata’s ethereal form.  Alata doesn’t comment on how intimate it truly is, feeling what is essentially the spiritual essence of Takeru mingle with the inner workings that is Alata’s own body.  Takeru doesn’t know, he’s just trying to be helpful.

Alata appreciates that.


Alata first notices Hiromu during the entire affair with Decade and Marvelous, that whole Riders and Sentai can’t get along thing.  He hadn’t been paying much attention, considering the circumstances and how intensely they had been fighting.  He knows after that they were exhausted enough that all five of them had let go of their corporeal form to try and regain much of the energy they exhausted.

Marvelous had laughed at him for that, and Alata had complained that “Marvelous it really is your fault for not telling us” but had left it at that.  Marvelous had his reasons, Alata knew, as did Decade.

Of course the first thing Alata did when he got his physical form back is hunt Hiromu down.  Well, hunt wouldn’t be the word for it.  He asked around, trying to figure out where Red Buster stayed, and after some digging around--

The good thing about having non-physical forms is that they could travel a long distance without people noticing.  It took less time, and Alata could instead focusing on reaching out to try and find Red Buster.  He’s tricky to pick out, Alata’s usual senses foxed by bits and pieces of things that should not be in a human.

Data, the thing Hyde likes to read over and try and push into himself as much as possible.

“You can’t become data, Hyde,” Alata had joked then, though Hyde had frowned at him.

Thinking back on it, perhaps Alata had been very wrong.  But he finds Red Buster, training.  Fighting.  Protecting the world in his own way, different from how Alata approached it.  It’s admirable, it’s also no surprise that when he had first approached Hiromu he had a blade to his neck.

It took many visits after that, gentle prodding, poking, easing Hiromu into opening up.

“What are you, exactly?” Hiromu had asked during one meeting, exasperated and looking tired.  Too tired for a human his age if you asked Alata.

Of course that question is too open ended, even though he had said he was Gosei Red, of Tensou Sentai Goseiger.  Hiromu had made a frustrated noise at that.

“No like...what are you to be able to slip past security so easily,” a frown that looks more like a pout, “obviously not Varglass.”

When Hiromu words it like that, Alata could answer it with a lot of things.  He is a being of divine wind, skeletal wings spread and holy form too bright for mere mortal to see.  The warmth of the sun, the divine fist of justice, they who punish those who dare harm the earth with the quiet anger of the silent.  Alata is the sky and the wind, the proud Skick who encompasses the sound that passes.  He is the very breath that Hiromu breathes.  Phantom hands reaching out to protect and shield, to cover eyes and keep the naivety sealed.

Alata had once been that naive.

Instead he smiles and says, “I’m like your guardian angel!”

Hiromu had scoffed at him, though Alata insisted it was true.

But it meant they were getting somewhere, and visits after that Hiromu had been more willing to talk.  He calls Alata a bird brain, air headed, gentle, friend, guardian angel, until one day he comes back broken and bruised.  Though his outward appearance shows nothing Alata can sense it.  A bruise on the heart, thumping painfully along with each pulse.


“Hey,” Hiromu looks up at him, doesn’t say anything for long minutes.  It worries Alata.  “Hey, Alata,” Hiromu starts again, “if you’re my Guardian Angel like you say--then why--”  Hiromu grabs Alata by his arms, hands gripping tight at his jacket.  “Then why couldn’t you protect my family that day!?” Hiromu is looking at him with hysterical eyes.  “Why did it have to be like this!”

Alata senses broken data, fragments, of Hiromu trying to pull himself together.  Alata can’t say anything, he can’t, but instead he brings his arms up and wraps them around Hiromu.  He pulls Hiromu in close, presses his eidolic being into Hiromu and takes each broken piece of data, pushes it aside.

Sorting through this program, Alata knows nothing, but he is not trying to fix.  Instead he pushes away the bad, sets it aside for Hiromu to mull over later.  He lets the warmth of his soft fire heat Hiromu up, tightens his hold and lets Hiromu hug his physical body as tightly as he can.

“Because,” Alata whispers, “Guardian Angels like myself really only come when they’re called for.”

He leaves the implied words hanging in the air.

He lets it stay unsaid that Hiromu doesn’t have to try so hard to carry the burden on his shoulders any longer.  Though Alata cannot fix what ails Hiromu, though he can’t get rid of the threat Hiromu faces, he can provide comfort.


KyoRyu Red is the one who hugs Alata first.

Enthusiasm and good will all combined into one, and Alata is so surprised he lets out a burst of Tensou that whips up gusts so ferocious things are toppled over.  Daigo has the nerve to laugh, despite the fact he almost faced many eyes, the smell of burning wood, and the cutting gales of a Twistornado activated on accident.  Alata wonders if anything really fazes Daigo, though.

“I heard about you,” Daigo says, “from Hiromu.”

“You’re friends?”

“Yeah!  Kind of!  He doesn’t talk much but he said something about Gosei Red being his Guardian Angel.”

And Hiromu still calls for Alata when he needs him, even after everything.  If just for the companionship, or another hug.  Things Alata doesn’t mind.  “Well, that is me!” Alata grins right back at Daigo.  Daigo is all cheer, and Alata feels himself gaining energy from the other red ranger.  “Although I guess I’m not Guardian Angel status anymore,” he makes a show of thinking, “hmmm, Hiromu is plenty strong on his own now so I guess that makes me out of a job!”

Daigo laughs with him.

“I just wanted to see though, ya know,” Daigo says after a few.  “What you were really like.”

“Did I disappoint you?”

“Nah!” Daigo claps Alata on the back.  “Just as I expected!!  Even better, man, they were not lying when they said you had presence!”


Daigo shouldn’t be able to feel the aura Alata’s true form gives off.  He shouldn’t be like Marvelous, whose own lack of being human allowed him to feel it, or Takeru whose Mojikara meshed so well with Alata’s own energies that he just knew.  If anything, it should be like with Hiromu and Nozomu and Sousuke and other humans Alata’s met.

They shouldn’t even be able to feel, let alone know, unless Alata lets them know.

“Well, I gotta go take care of Deboss!” Daigo gives him a peace sign.  “See ya later, Gosei Red!”

He leaves just as fast as he came, leaving Alata standing there confused.

He must still have a lot to learn about humans.


duckiesandlemons: (Default)

July 2017

1617 1819202122
2324 2526272829

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 08:07 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios