#“Master of Fire” is already the name of a Monster

[theyaremanycolours]

So, about that Fire Knight Mech Kai Minifig...

There's one thing that I've seen questioned but not really talked about. In the "Kai's Fire Knight Mech" set there is a minifig that is quite blatently Kai, but the packaging labels him as "Master of Fire"

Now, some people have theorized that this is an error, or that this specific figure is supposed to represent Kai's (currently unnamed) Ancestor.

I have a different theory.

Given the concept with Monstrosity is that Kai is struggling to keep his humanity/his sense of self to becoming "A monster", and the fact that the two other major characters are referred to using Titles in the Playset (Fire Knight Mech and Guardian Dragon), with at least the Guardian Dragon considering herself a Monster, well.

Wouldn't it make sense that Kai would start to be referred using a title? He's losing himself, losing his humanity, and "Kai" is the name of a person.

After all, a Vampire is called a Vampire, a Zombie, a Zombie. A Werewolf's human identity may have a name, but the beast is simply a Werewolf.

A Monster doesn't have a person name, they are called what they are.

And A Kai without what makes him Kai is not a "Kai", and he is not a "Human", because that implies a Person, no matter how twisted. What he is, what sort of Monster is buried inside, being unveiled as the Land of Monsters sands away his identity... Is a Master of Fire.

Nothing More.

[callsign-swan]

Into The Maw Of The Beast

Chapter Two

The beast comes to collect a girl from your village every year. When you are chosen, you don't realise that the beast is a man. A man under a curse that only you can break.

A beauty and the beast retelling

Chapter One Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

The castle was responding to you. Max watched as you walked further into the room, wrapping your arms around yourself. As if the castle knew you were cold, the roaring fire grew.

"Where is the monster?"

You looked around, your eyes passing over him a couple of times.

You didn't know. Even looking at the horns curling towards his head, you didn't know. Max didn't answer you. Leaning his head in his fist, he looked away from you.

When you swallowed, Max heard it. "It's so dark in here," you mumbled. The curtains fluttered, threatening to fly open.

Don't you dare, Max thought, glaring at the curtains. They fell still again.

"You shouldn't be in here," Max said, keeping the growl from his voice.

You were beautiful, but so was every girl that came before you. It was always the same story, the madness, the way their mind changed. If they didn't take their own lives, it fell upon him to put them out of their misery.

It was going to happen to you. Just like it happened to everybody, it was going to happen to you. He was going to watch you throw yourself from the tower or use his claws to tear you apart.

It was inevitable.

After the third girl that threw herself from the tower, Max stopped himself from getting attached. The monster tried to be caring, at first, tried to show the human side that was still within him. But this always happened. They always lost their mind. They always wanted it to end.

It would happen to you, too.

For a moment longer, he watched you. You did ask again where the monster was, didn't demand to be taken home now that you thought the beast was gone.

No, you simply looked around. When you gaze found the portrait above the carved fireplace, the one his claws had torn through the first time he became the beast, Max snapped his fingers.

"Charles!" He barked and a small door on the other side of the room opened.

Max kept staring at the fire as Charles walked into the room. "Take her away," he muttered.

"Come on, Chérie," he whispered. Lifting his hand from the pommel of his sword, he grasped your arm and pulled you from the room.

As soon as you were out of the room, the door shut. "Don't worry about it," Charles said, still pulling you along. "That's just the house looking after you." He patted the walls, almost affectionately. "I think she likes you."

"She?" You asked. He finally let go of you, but you kept following.

Charles nodded his head. "She. The castle." He reached out to pinch the fabric of her dress between his fingers. "She picked this for you, didn't she?"

Of course she did, he thought when you nodded. Something the master would like, something that would catch his attention.

It hadn't worked, but that was because Max was distracted.

The doors flew open as the two of you approached them. "Are you taking me to the monster?" You asked, clenching your fists at your sides.

Charles's chuckle echoed around the halls, bounces off the high ceiling. "I'm taking you for something to eat, Chérie," he said, leading you into the kitchens. Something was already cooking, the work of the castle.

The kitchen door shut behind you. "Where is the monster?" You tried, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Another laugh left his lips. "The monster? You've just been with the monster," he said as a cupboard door opened.

Your eyes went wide. "That?!" You cried, pointing back in the direction you had come from. "That was the monster? But he was so..."

Human. Beautiful. There was a plethora of words you could have used. But not monster. He wasn't a monster. Even with horns on his head, he wasn't a monster.

But you had more questions for him. "Charles," you said, testing his name for yourself. You didn't know there was anybody else in this castle other than the monster, didn't expect him to have staff.

The fire in the kitchen died as the cooked food was put onto a plate. Charles placed it on the table and gestured for you to sit. "What is it, Chérie?" He asked. It was the third time he'd used the nickname and you didn't yet know how to feel.

"What happened to the girls that came before me?"

Charles stopped laughing. He was still apart from his nails drumming against the wood of the table. "Nothing pretty," he mumbled. "This castle changes people, Ma belle," he said. "They slowly lose their minds until they become the monster your people think Max is."

Max, you didn't expect the beast to have a name.

"There must be a reason he brings us here," you said, mostly to yourself.

"There is," Charles answered, his hand finding your shoulder. "But we don't know what that is.

"Does Max?"

Charlases didn't answer.

***

"Show me her."

The mirror glowed before you appeared. Sitting at his kitchen table with Charles beside you. He touched your shoulder and Max released a growl from deep within his throat.

How dare he touch you.

You turned your head slightly and Max could see your face. Eating what Charles had given you, like you were a little mouse he had taken pity on. A trusting little mouse.

He didn't like it. He couldn't understand why he didn't like it. You were just the same as all of the others, a girl he had to take to satisfy the needs of the curse.

Soon you would lose your mind to the curse, just the same. Soon his claws would he tearing through you to put you out of your misery.

"Show me..." He paused, his hand caressing the mirror. "Show me her future."

He'd never asked the mirror for the future before. Only the present. What was the point in trying to see the disaster that was the future?

Max knew exactly what he would see. You, on top of the tower with that same crazed look in your eye. Those before you had that same look, desperate for someone to save them from themselves. Max did all he could. Putting them out of their misery was the best way.

But he didn't see that. Not for you. You weren't standing on the tower, threatening to throw yourself off. You weren't at his beastly feet, begging him to tear you apart, just for the madness to end.

You were beside him, the monster side of him. Your arm was on his as he walked on two legs, your hand on his arm. He wasn't forcing you to go where he wanted you to go, he wasn't dragging you by your arm. You were going willingly with him. Not the human side of him. You smiled, a real smile, at the monster.

Maybe this was how the madness would take hold in you. Making you love a monster.

"No!" He cried, slamming the mirror down onto the table. It didn't break, wouldn't break until the curse was lifted.

"Show me her now," he growled out. The mirror began glowing again, showed him you and Charles as he led you through the halls.

Come now, Chérie, Charles said as he took you towards the library. The castle isn't so bad.

You looked around, seemed to look right at him. But you couldn't know he was watching you, could you? It's not the castle I'm worried about, you said, stopping in front of a portrait of his father.

God, his father. A tyrant that ruled over your land long before you were born. But he wouldn't have let this curse befall him and his staff.

You kept walking towards the library. Good, Max thought. You would like it in there. Many of the girls before you had liked it in there, before they lost their minds.

Charles threw open the doors and you drew in a gasp. It was simply beautiful. Shelves after shelves full of books. "Does it have one of those ladders?" You asked excitedly.

The ladder rolled against the bookcase to your right. You stepped towards it, placed your foot onto the first rung. "What do I do?" You asked, looking towards Charles.

"Tell le château what you want to read," he said.

You muttered the genre of the books you wanted to read. Immediately, the ladder started moving, taking you towards the books.

The ladder slowed down as you approached the fantasy books. "Thank you," you whispered, stepping down from the ladder. It whisked away from you, heading back towards Charles.

You pulled a book from the shelf. "Hey," you said uncomfortably, attempting to speak to the house. "Where can I go and read this?"

Books began falling from the shelves. Close to you, but then they began to get further and further away. You followed them, walking through the bookcases until you came to a window.

It was the brightest spot in the library. Cushions lined the window seat, looking oh so comfortable. "Thank you," you said to the house as you climbed into the window seat.

Max watched as you opened the book. You settled against the cushions, a spot he had found himself in several times before. It was his sisters spot before it was his. Several girls had found the spot before you, but the house had never led them here.

You really were special.

***

You didn't mean to spend all day in that window seat. It was just so comfortable. And the sun shining through the window made it so damn warm. You didn't mean to fall asleep, pages of the book held open by your body.

Max could have asked the house to wake you up, he could have asked Charles to go and get you.

Anything for you to be comfortable.

But the house refused. Charles refused. "Go and get her yourself," he said, sitting in the kitchen with an apple (Charles didn't need to eat. That was part of his curse. He could never die and he could never leave. Living in a torturous limbo).

A growl left Max's lips, his lion like tail swishing from side to side. "You're both horrible," he said, looking around at the walls surrounding them.

But he turned on his heel and strode away. His footsteps echoed around him as he made his way to the library. Would the signs of madness be in your eyes when he woke you up? Almost a day in his castle, it must have taken root within you already.

He saw you the second he stepped into the library. Curled up on the window seat, like you belonged there. He hated it. You didn't belong here. You belonged back in your village. But he couldn't let you go, not without dire consequences for the both of you.

His hand was on your shoulder. The first time he touched you since he brought you to the castle. His flesh hand, no longer claws and paws, on your shoulder.

"Wake up," he said, shaking your shoulder slightly.

The book fell from your stomach as your eyes opened. You yawned, stretching your arms up. "What time is it?" You asked, grabbing your book from the floor.

Max didn't answer. At his silence, a book flew from the shelf and hit the back of his head.

His gaze settled in a glare as he looked around. "My house and staff have prepared dinner," he said, not missing the way you pulled your knees up to your chest. You weren't looking in his eyes, rather staring at his horns.

He couldn't stop himself from growling. Another book flew off the shelf, attempting to hit him, but he caught it. "Eat or don't, I don't care," he growled and stormed off.

The castle made one more attempt. One more book thrown at his head. But a roar left his lips as he batted it away and marched out of the library. He slammed the doors shut behind him, the entire room shaking.

Placing the book back on the window seat, you picked up the few that had been launched at Max's head. "There you go," you said as you put them back. The books that had fallen to lead you to the window seat had been put back, but you didn't know how.

Holding your book against your chest, you walked out of the library. You pressed your hand to the stone wall, your throat growing tight. You wouldn't have dinner, not with him.

"I don't remember how to get back to my room," you whispered.

The sconces on the wall sprang to life, candles lighting. You followed them, up the stairs and down the hall. The castle took you back to your room, the door opening for you.

"Please keep them out," you whispered as you shut the door. The door didn't lock, but you couldn't help but trust the house. Sitting on your bed, you opened the book and began reading again.

It was so damn loud as Max grew angry. Growling and yowling and roaring. Crashes as furniture was flipped, as plates and glasses were broken.

You didn't dare open your bedroom door. If either him or Charles tried to get in, you didn't know. The castle protected you, let you sleep.

Taglist: @flightmedictrace @hc-dutch @stressed-cherry @star73807-blog @efoxie @hott1es @easy4 @aykxz98 @nefsburneracc @edgyficuselastica @evermoreandroyalblue @rayaskoalaland @gsaintt @storminacloud @thecolorpearl05 @fastandcurious16

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Im reading time travel fanfic rn heres a bunch stuff i havent seen yet. Theres A LOT of sw fanfic out there so they might exist but heres what i couldnt find when i did my last time travel fanfic binge back in like 2018 and im looking for now

I said this in its own post but WHERE are the fics where someone from tcw travels to the future, sees how much it SUCKS, and then go off the rails trying to fix it when they return

Old! Man! Clones! gimme one or a group of post- or rebellion era clones that end up in tcw. NO CLONE should be THAT AGE at that point in time and you can take that in so many directions

The time travelers are R2D2 and 3CPO only. This is hilarious chaos

Where are the crack fics? Every single fic is sad

Back in 2018 there was like 2 Ezra Bridger time travel fics DESPITE THE FREAKING FACT he found the world between worlds PLEASE tell me theres more now

Back in 2018 there were almost NO Leia time travel fics PLEASE i want to see her try and murder Anakin on first sight THE ANGST CONTENT IS RIGHT THERE

Han telling Obi-Wan that Leia named their kid after him. Obi-Wan is awkward. Han proceeds to say "the kid still turned to the dark side like his shitty grandpa, but hey, the thought was there!" slaps him on the shoulder and then walks away

Idk what age the twins are but they come from a universe where they grew up with Uncle Ben and around enough of his friends that they learned embarrassing stories about him. Someone says they're in a situation and one of the twins is like "i think what he's saying is this is between a 'told the Jedi Council they could kiss his ass as a teenager' and 'accidentally got married for the fourth time' on the Uncle Ben's Fuck Ups Scale" in front of a Anakin who's only ever seen the Perfect Jedi™️ Obi-Wan Kenobi act

Actually how about adult Anakin meeting teenager Obi-Wan? I havent seen that before

Anakin looking at Leia and immediately seeing Padme before becoming ultimately CRUSHED upon hearing her last name is Organa. Anakin's brain then jumps the gun to "i died in this war and Padme gets remarried"

Luke may be the (highly controversial at this time) Jedi but Leia is the diplomat and manages all the talking at the Temple/with the Council

Leia seeing her parents again!! Not Anakin and Padme. She talks to Bail and Breha!!

Leia spitting fire at Anakin as she yells to everyone in the room what he did to Alderaan. That he is a MONSTER and will NEVER EVER be her father

The tcw Council meeting the og trio. They get upitty about how Luke runs things. They get mad when they find out Leia was married. Han responds that "we're divorced so this attachment thing you're all upset about was apparently not actually a issue for her. Also, shes not a jedi"

Yoda and Luke vibing together on a frequency unseen before. Everyone already doesnt like Luke (the tcw jedi see him as some uneducated hippie) but this is just unnerving

OLD MAN BEN MEETING MASTER OBI-WAN KENOBI. It has been IMPOSSIBLE for me to find a fic with this since ppl always go the "reappear in younger body" trope

EDIT: ive thought of more

Found out i said this years ago but you know what its still true and i only found TWO fics like it when i searched yesterday: Ezra AND Ahsoka in tcw together

Obi-Wan and Luke appear in the tcw era. Obi-Wan convinces Luke to be Luke Lars, Anakin's nephew. Luke tries to get to know Anakin. Anakin tries to come to grips with the son of a guy he met once calling him Uncle Ani

A lot of fics the time traveling jedi just folds and regressed into their past self which is a valid psych thing but you know what fics i dont see? The trust being broken irreversibly. The jedi spent 3 years fighting with the clones and the next TWENTY being hunted by them. Give me a jedi that cant be calm around their old men. That cant walk on a star destroyer without fear. That attacks everyone who loved and trusted them in this time before running because survival takes over. In Obi-Wan's and Ahsoka's case, fight and flee hardest against Anakin

EDIT: more additions

Ben and Leia from the Kenobi series magically appear on the Negotiator/Resolute. Ben looks like he's homeless and Leia is a sassy child. Leia calls Ben "a old man that crawled out of a dumpster" and the clones laugh while Ben looks like he needs a drink. Cody sees how skinny Ben is and gets concerned. Anakin walks in on the clones thirsting over Ben and Anakin is traumatized. Obi-Wan thinks Ben must be a older brother or cousin or other relative of his birth family before he thinks time travel. Everyone thinks Ben is being cute by calling Leia "your highness" and "princess" before whoops what do you mean thats Alderaan's princess???

Same as above but sadder. Ben and Leia manage to slip out and by the time the group figures out Ben is Obi-Wan they're long gone. OR Ben looked around, realized he was surrounded by his trauma, and fought his way out. Either way Ben and Leia end up being chased by them planet to planet

[strangersteddierthings]

Gut Instinct: Chapter 1 - Friday

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One]

The words are there, on the tip of his tongue (“What, to hang out with you and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”) when a wave of nausea rolls through him so fast- Green, yellow, and red pinned against a wall. A grandfather clock. Sneakers floating at eye level in a graveyard. A cassette tape. Something wrapped around his neck and he can’t breath. A man. A monster. Dustin sobbing. -he has to spin around for fear he’s actually going to throw up on the counter, holding the phone away from his face in case he does. He retches once, twice, before swallowing it down. He can hear Dustin yelling his name through the phone repeatedly, asking if he’s throwing up.

“No, not throwing up,” Steve mutters defeatedly, the nausea ending quicker than it began now that he accepts he has to show up to Dustin’s stupid nerd game. “I’ll be there.”

“You will!?”

Steve jerks the phone away from his ear and once the shrieking stops, he pulls it back to his face in tandem with the sound of the door opening, “I said yeah. I gotta go, customers.”

Steve slams the phone down with a curse. “Fuck.”

Some lady who has been browsing the movies for twenty minutes now shoots him a dirty look. Steve shoots her an apologetic smile and mouths ‘sorry’. This placates her enough to drop the stink eye.

A quick glance at the clock lets him know he’s got three hours until school is out which sucks because he needs Robin. He’s never had a nightmare like that while awake before and he doesn’t really have the time to freak out about it right now because he is the only one on shift and he will get fired if he leaves now, and he’s not allowed to get fired until Robin goes to college, under penalty of death (says Robin).

That’s fine. He just has to last until his shift is over. At which point, he’ll be sullenly playing Dweebs and Daggers or whatever, and Robin will be getting ready for band because they’re going to playing at the basketball game tonight. So, talking to Robin before the game is off the table. That’ll have to be an after the basketball game thing.

It’s going to be a long day.

-

Despite the fact Steve had told him he would be here, Dustin still looks shocked when he sees Steve leaning against his car in the parking lot, Family Video vest discarded in the backseat. “Steve! You’re here!”

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing off his car to meet Dustin halfway. “I said I’d be here.”

Dustin doesn’t even look a little sheepish as he says, “I wasn’t sure if you were just lying to get off the phone or not. So, we asked Erica, too. But I’m sure it’ll be fine if we bring two replacements.”

“I’m wounded,” Steve monotones, before rolling his eyes. “So, guess I gotta get a crash course on your nerd game?”

“Yes!”

Dustin leads him through the school, and Steve recognizes the path to the auditorium. “You play this game on the stage?”

“What, no. We play it in the green room,” Dustin says, like Steve should have known that. “Old props make for great ambiance.”

Steve mouths the word ‘ambiance’ to himself as he follows Dustin to the green room. There’s a table set up with seating. At the head of it is a throne and Steve doesn’t even try to stifle his scoff and eyeroll. “Does the game runner dude sit there?”

“Dungeon Master, and yes,” Dustin says as he starts scooping things up and depositing them into Steve’s arms. A book, a couple of notebooks, loose leaf papers, and pencils. He looks like he is about to chuck some of the dice atop the pile before thinking better of it and stuffs those into his pocket instead. “To the library, Steve!”

“Library?” Steve turns to watch Dustin walk away, then looks down to the pile of things he’s holding, and back to Dustin who has stopped at the doorway. “But everything’s already here!”

“Yeah, and we need to leave it for Eddie. He might come back here to do some more planning, or additional prep, and honestly, I don’t want him to catch sight of you until we actually start playing,” Dustin says, like Steve is somehow the embarrassing nerd and not the other way around. Dustin has always treated him like he’s the strange outcast for not being a nerd, though, so that’s not surprising.

“Can we at least sit in the cafeteria, then? Not really in the mood to get shushed by the school librarian when I don’t even go here.”

Dustin looks deep in thought, as if it’s a tough decision between the library and the cafeteria. “Yeah, we can be in the cafeteria. If we sit in the far corner so no one passing by will see.”

Steve, who has taken two steps towards Dustin, stops and narrows his eyes. “Are you seriously embarrassed to be seen with me right now?”

“What? No!” Dustin shouts, eyes wide, “No! I just don’t want the rest of Hellfire to see you until we start playing! It’s- well, come on. We’ll chat while you roll stats.”

“Stats?” Steve repeats but knows he’s not getting an answer because Dustin has already started to walk away again.

Steve plops himself down in the first seat he gets to in the cafeteria, despite Dustin’s protests. “No. Sit. We are on a time crunch, right?”

Dustin sighs and Steve knows he’s won. “Yeah. So, I was thinking you’d be a pretty awesome paladin, but I think for your first game the easier thing will be to just be a human fighter. Then you don’t have to worry about picking spells, or-“

“Whoa. Stop,” Steve holds up his hands, “first you’re gonna tell me why you don’t want to be caught with me by the other members of your nerd club.”

“Oh, that’s- It’s not that I don’t want to get caught, why’d you word it like that? No, don’t answer. Jeff, Gareth, Frankie, and Eddie just seem to have a vendetta against you. Or something,” Dustin says, pulling the book he’d brought towards himself, seeming to flip open to a random page. “I talk about you. A lot, apparently. They seem determined to think you’re an asshole.”

“I kinda am, dude,” Steve shrugs, because he knows it. Being a different person than he was in high school is a process he is actively working on, sure, but Steve also knows he’s not exactly aiming to be the sweetest boy on the block.

“Not when it matters!” Dustin barks back at him and Steve is surprised by the ferocity behind his words. With how quickly he jumps to Steve’s defense, even against Steve himself. “Not to me, not to any of us. You’re an asshole when you’re defensive, which isn’t like, who you are as a person. Anyway, I don’t want them to like, refuse to let you play or something because of what they think they know about you.”

Steve is deeply touched if he’s being honest. “Alright, you win. I’ll play whatever you want me to play.”

This gives Dustin pause, looking between the book and Steve. Then he seems to make a decision because he reaches over and grabs the stack of loose leaf papers and starts looking through them. “I have already made you a character. Tiefling Paladin, Oath of the Crown subclass, my character’s half-brother. If you don’t care that I picked literally everything already, we can just go over how to play the game?”

“That would be great,” Steve says, “the less decision making on my part, the better.”

Dustin doesn’t say anything in response to that, but the look on his face says a lot. It’s a pretty positive look. “Okay. Here, this is the sheet. Level 15, like me, ‘cause I’ve been leveling the character when I level mine.”

And then Dustin doesn’t stop talking. He’s explaining spells, and attack actions, and how spells are an action but not an attack action, even if you’re using a spell to attack something. Talking about armor class and weapon damage, and spell slots, and the list seems to never end. It’s a lot all at once and he just knows he’s going to look stupid tonight but he’s going to give it his best. For Dustin. (And a little bit for the nausea from earlier.)

“Oh, we gotta get to the green room!” Dustin gasps suddenly and Steve looks at his watch. It’s about eight until five. Which is surprising, because Lucas’ basketball game is at six, and Steve knows that Dungeons and Dragons can take hours when they play in the Wheelers’ basement. Are the games shorter because it’s a school club? Can the school impose time limits like that?

They make quick work of grabbing everything from the table before Steve follows Dustin back through the school. As they approach Steve starts to hear voices. The closer he gets, the more he makes out, and soon enough they enter the room to hear the end of a conversation between Erica and Eddie Munson, as she beats him into submission about her character.

Steve hopes Eddie’s not going to give him the same treatment. He’s not sure he could make a good enough argument for his own involvement as Erica just did.

“Holy shit,” one of the older members says, “you actual do know King Steve?”

“I told you he’s awesome,” Dustin says in the tone that usually annoys Steve, the one where the unsaid parts sound like duh, you idiot and Steve finds that it’s less annoying when it’s used in his defense. “Come on Steve, sit beside me. I’ll help you with the rules.”

“Hold up,” Munson says, rounding to Steve. He hasn't seen Munson in person since he graduated, but it was even longer than that that he's been under the scrutiny of Munson's gaze. With him burning his bridge to Tommy H and Carol and the rise of Billy, Steve was left more or less alone his senior year. Munson still ranted and raved about conformity and high school hierarchy, but Steve was left out of those rants, or at least, was no longer the target. All that to say that having Munson's full attention is almost overwhelming, now. No Tommy H or Carol to snicker with him or distract Munson here, like they used to do.

Steve's always thought Munson was charismatic in a cult leader kind of way. Whether his presence brought you discomfort or ease, he had a way of making you feel like the only other person in a room with him when his focus was on you. Steve's never felt truly at ease in this presence before, but he certainly doesn't feel discomfort anymore. Munson's got big dark eyes and a pretty mouth for a man who only ever frowns or sneers in Steve's vicinity, but overall Munson's a good-looking dude, and he's not sure what to do with this revelation. This is not the time or place for unpacking that, especially since Munson looks like he cares very little for Steve’s presence here, but he also isn't immediately telling him to get out, so that’s gotta count for something. “Your character is?”

“Oh, uh, tiefling paladin, oath of the crown,” Steve recites, trying to subtly catch Dustin’s eye to make sure he didn’t mess that up.

Munson glares at him and Steve really should not be finding his potential hatred of him hot. “Right. And why’d you agree to sub?”

Because my gut instinct gave me the worst case of nausea I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve learned that bad things happen when I don’t listen to my gut, so I’m here seems like the wrong thing to say, but so does have you always been this hot? I'd like permission to stick around so I stare some more and figure out this strange, (not really) sudden attraction so instead Steve says, “Dustin asked.”

The glare doesn’t lessen but there is something on Munson's face that might have been surprise but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. “Fine.”

When the tension leaves his body is when Steve realizes he was truly worried Munson was going to kick him out. Dustin steers him to a chair next to one of the other members of Hellfire this isn't one of the Party, and then sits down next to him.

Since they all still seem to be gathering things, and Munson hasn’t sat in the throne yet, Steve turns to the guy beside him. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

“I know.”

“Right. And you are…?”

The guy eyes him, and Steve’ not sure what he’s looking for. “Gareth.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We’ve met. Like four times,” Gareth says before turning away, to chat with Mike on the other side of him.

Steve is a little embarrassed to not remember that but only a little. He was a dick in high school who wouldn't have bothered to try and remember if they'd met before, but he's also had 3 concussions in just as many years and he understands his memory can be wonky. Looking around, he sees that, vaguely, everyone here is familiar. Steve knows their faces, at the least, but besides Munson, Steve couldn’t tell you anyone’s name. Well, except Gareth now.

Wait. Steve does a double take of the room before looking to Dustin. “Isn’t Lucas in this club, too?”

For the first time ever that Steve’s been witness to, Dustin looks sheepish. “Well, yeah, that’s why you’re here. To fill in for him. ‘Cause he’s in the basketball game.”

Steve’s feeling a little sick. Oh no. “And he’s okay with missing this game?”

An even more sheepish look. Steve’s stomach feels awfully bubbly as Dustin says, “well, uh, he doesn’t exactly know he’s missing it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve must have misheard.

“He asked us to get Eddie to postpone the game, but Eddie said no. Besides, Mike’s leaving the state tomorrow morning and we’d have to wait two weeks to play again otherwise,” Dustin explains, “and, uh, we haven't seen him since he asked us after the assemble to tell him that the game would not be postponed.”

“That’s bullshit, Henderson,” Steve’s voice is loud but he’s not yelling. Not yet.

“Watch it, Harrington,” Munson snaps, matching Steve’s angry energy. “You don’t get to bully people around here.”

“That’s not- right, sorry. Just, can we postpone for like ten more minutes?” Steve asks.

“Why the Hell would we do that?” Munson looks bewildered.

“So, I can go tell Lucas this game wasn’t postponed, like he thinks it is,” that bit hissed in Dustin’s direction, “and he might only be going to the basketball game because he thinks this one isn’t happening.”

“Oh,” Munson seems to lose his steam, a small frown on his face as he says, “Fine. Ten minutes. We’re starting without you or Sinclair if it takes longer than that.”

“Thanks!” Steve smiles at Munson, which earns him look from Munson that’s kind of pinched in the face, but he’s not sticking around to ask about it. The rolling in his stomach is settling a little. This must be why his gut wants him here. To clear up the misunderstanding.

[feyascorner]

6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it. 

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back.  Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot. 

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.” 

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

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[actuallysaiyan]

“You know, I could always get you off right here, right now.”

from hero!reader to big might after he gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk while on patrol

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral sex(male receiving), aphrodisiac quirk, semi-public sex, slight dub con.| dividers: @adornedwithlight

These villains weren’t easy. They were giving you and All Might lots of trouble. But they were being foolish by not surrendering when it came to the duo that is you and the Symbol of Peace. They thought themselves so funny, you could tell.They were being way too cocky.

“Go around the corner,” Toshinori says. “We’ll ambush them.”

You listen to his instructions. He’s always been a master strategist. So you do as he says, but before you two can ambush them, one of them tosses what looks like pink glitter in the air. You realize that All Might has just been hit with an aphrodisiac quirk.

You’re so quick to go over to him and push him into the empty and abandoned alleyway as the villains run off in the wrong direction. Little did they know that there were police positioned everywhere.

When you return your attention to Toshinori, he’s panting and his eyes look like they are glowing. You know you need to help him, though you’re going to have to put your own personal feelings aside.

He grabs at his crotch, squeezing and rubbing the bulge that’s forming a tent there. You look down and you swallow hard when you see the size of him. He’s so much bigger than you anticipated. Finally, you look back up in his eyes.

“F-fuck,” he growls. “That was…fuck, that was stupid!”

He throws his head back when you replace his hand and palm him through his suit. You’re going to take care of him, he’s grateful for it. But he would still like to hear your consent on this. He may turn into a sex-crazed monster, but he wants to know it’s okay for you to help.

“Need your help,” he whines as you continue stimulating him.

“I know, I know…”

He growls. “Gotta get back to your place…”

You shake your head, smirking at him as you reach for the zipper of his suit. You begin to undress him and he’s trying to protest.

“You know,” you begin as you get on your knees. “I could always get you off right here, right now.”

It sounds ridiculous, but his brain isn’t thinking very logically right now. With you already sucking on the head of his hard and leaking cock, any semblance of privacy is forgotten. He doesn’t care if anyone sees. He just wants to get his cock wet.

With you working on his cock, he feels his balls drawing up quickly. There’s a fire deep in his belly, and you know exactly how to stoke it. The aphrodisiac was running through his veins, making him feel even more needy and hungry for you.

Without warning, he picks you up and slams you against the wall. Your eyes widen when he rips your suit at the crotch. There’s a dark laugh that rumbles from his chest before he begins to impale you on his cock. Your warm, wet, tight walls are much better than anything else. 

Toshinori begins to fuck you harshly against the wall, holding you close to his chest. He grunts your name over and over, and suddenly he’s promising you things and praising you for being so good for him.

His legs shake as he feels his impending orgasm. He then kisses you deeply as he spills his cum into your pussy. You hold onto him, exhausted from the pleasure of being fucked by the man you’ve loved for so long.

“I’m not done with you just yet…”He whispers in your ear before continuing to pump himself into you.

You’d be here for a while, and you weren’t in any rush to get away.

[dee-writes-anime]

Oh boy, i got smt for yo ass

If you write for toumura (?) can I request

A angsty fic where he and reader are in a secret relationship, and during a big fight or smt reader DIES!!!!

That mother fucker breaks down, and the heroes truly start to see he was manipulated from a young age. But he doesn’t care because the one person who truly saw him for him is now dead? Bleeding out on the hard pavement, getting cold, pale.

Do as you please with this your honour

Dust to Dust

FEATURING Tenko 'Tomura Shigaraki' Shimura x Reader

SUMMARY the only thing keeping Tenko Shimura, the human, tethered to the world was you. Now that you're gone all that remains is Tomura Shigaraki, the weapon.

CONTENT WARNINGS major character death, violence, death, grief, this is some sad shit gang, tomura crashing out

AUTHORS NOTE oh monty you are in for a fucking TREAT! (I am a chronic Tomura apologist, never hesitate to request fics for him, that's my pookie)

There were never supposed to be survivors in his story.

Tomura grew up learning that hands could only destroy—that if you held something too tight, it would crumble, rot, turn to ash. His quirk made sure of it. His trauma guaranteed it.

So when you came into his life, soft-spoken but unafraid, he thought it was a trick.

You weren’t a villain. Not by profession, at least. You weren’t with the heroes either. A smuggler, maybe. A courier. Someone who slipped through the cracks with a false ID and a neutral stance. The kind of person who could trade with the League if the price was right.

He watched you the first time you made a deal with Kurogiri. Head held high. Voice steady. Smart eyes that didn’t tremble at the sight of his face, or the itch in his neck when he lost his patience.

That night, when you left, you handed him a candy bar.

“No offense,” you’d said, “but you look like you haven't eaten in two days.”

He stared at the wrapper in his palm for an hour after you were gone.

You weren’t supposed to come back.

But you did. Again and again. Deals turned into conversations. Conversations into late nights. Quiet laughter in the corners of safehouses and stolen moments between missions. It was slow. Unexpected.

Intimate.

You never asked about the scars. You never flinched when he touched your skin—barehanded, even, once he’d mastered restraint. You only ever looked at him like he was a man. Not a monster. Not a mistake.

So he loved you in silence. In pieces. In ways he didn’t know how to name.

And you loved him back—messy, dangerous, fucked-up and real.

So when you died, everything else died with you.

The battlefield reeked of scorched flesh and boiling asphalt. The skies were a churning bruise of smoke and superheated air, clouds split open with distant fire. Hero and villain clashed in chaotic tides, a city block crumbling beneath the weight of too many powers unleashed at once.

But Shigaraki didn’t see any of it.

He only saw you.

Crushed under a collapsed building, a chunk of rebar piercing through your side. Blood soaked your clothes in a sick, rippling bloom, and the light in your eyes was already dimming.

“Tomu,” you choked when you saw him, and that fucking nickname—only you called him that—it snapped something inside him.

He ran.

He forgot the heroes, forgot the war, forgot his orders.

He dropped to the ground beside you, cradling your face with hands that trembled, that shouldn’t be touching anything living. His gloves were gone.

But you didn’t flinch.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he lied. “We’ll get Toga—she can—she’ll fix it—”

“You know she can’t,” you whispered, a smile ghosting your lips. Your blood painted his fingers. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s not okay.”

He was breathing too fast. His chest was a cage, his ribs knives. “You said you weren’t gonna leave me.”

“I meant it,” you said, voice thin. “But… I’m not scared, Tomu. I got to love you. Really love you. You let me in.”

His grip tightened. He was shaking so hard it looked like convulsions.

“And now you’re leaving,” he said, voice breaking like glass. “They took you from me.”

You reached up with what little strength you had left and touched his face—thumb brushing a tear he didn’t know had fallen.

“I’m glad I found you,” you whispered.

And then your hand fell.

And you were gone.

He didn’t remember screaming.

He didn’t remember the sound he made when he realized you weren’t breathing, or how he clutched your body to his chest like it might keep you warm. Like it could drag you back from wherever you’d gone.

But the heroes remembered.

Because they’d never heard a sound like that before—not from him. Not from the Symbol of Villainy. Not from the man they believed was incapable of mourning.

He sobbed. Ripped at his hair. His nails clawed down his neck, tearing skin, his blood dripping onto your body like a failed offering.

“She loved me,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “And I couldn’t even save her.”

All For One’s voice buzzed distantly in his mind, trying to pull him back. But the tether snapped. Severed.

He’d failed. Failed you.

He laid you down carefully—so, so gently—and turned to face the battlefield with empty eyes.

“She was good,” he said to no one. “She never should’ve been part of this.”

Heroes had started to surround him. The League was frozen behind him.

“She never killed. Never lied. She just… wanted me to be better. Me. Not him. Not the weapon they made.”

His eyes lifted.

And they were wild.

“You fucking killed her.”

No one spoke. No one moved.

And then—

The world cracked.

A tremor split the street as Shigaraki unleashed himself.

Dust and ash consumed buildings. Asphalt buckled. Concrete vaporized under his scream of grief as decay spiraled outward, uncontrolled. His body surged with borrowed power—rage, agony, everything he’d ever buried beneath hate now set free.

The League barely escaped.

Heroes scattered.

But the image that haunted them—the thing they never forgot—wasn’t the destruction.

It was the way he collapsed afterward, kneeling beside your broken body, whispering your name like a prayer, or maybe a curse. His hands cradling your face. His thumb tracing your brow.

And the tears. So many tears.

Later, when it was over, and the dust had settled, the world asked:

“Was he ever the real villain?”

And no one had an answer.

[marte-14]

Ravio Universe AU

Context:

It has taken a while for everyone to understand who was whose counterpart's.

But Sky spotted his mirror version immediately, after all he was carrying the Master Sword.... At least his version.

He couldn't take his eyes off him, and he noticed that Astral couldn't either.

On the Lorulian Hero's back there is Ghirahim, in his sword form. He is identical to the last time he saw him: blade of a dark crimson, the strange rhomboid form and the black handle.

The only difference is that the upside down Triforce is gold, not red like blood.

Sky is feeling a familiar sensation of fear in his stomach, images of escaping that swords strike at the last second, before it split open his head in half.

"Are you ok?" Wars asks, Sky nods quickly:"Y-yeah." He manages to look away:" Just surprised!" He tries to justify:" Didn't expect to meet heroes from a parallel universe!" Wars doesn't look convinced:" Yeah! We already have our time travel shenanigans, this is even stranger!" he doesn't question further, luckily.

-----

Everyone settles down, waiting for the dinner to be ready.

Each Link and Ravio are with their counterparts, asking questions and confronting adventures.

While around the fire the chattering is very lively and calm, on the other hand, at edge of the camp, the tension is rising between the two Chosen Heroes.

"You were cursed as well..." It's not a question, Astral tone is firm and direct to the point:" Yes..." Sky glances to the side, where they have placed their swords.

"You have him..."

"And you have her..." There is a touch of resentment in his voice.

Sky eyes return to Astral, frowning:" Fi was my companion during my adventure." Astral stares him in the eyes:" Must have been a really boring adventure."

"Fi helped me a lot. She was always kind and patient, answering all my questions about the surface. She made sure I got back home."

Astral rolls his eyes, scoffing:" Sure. Kind. Of course." Sarcasm is dripping from him.

Sky, logically knows that the Fi that Astral is talking about is not his Fi. Just like Astral's Ghirahim is not the one he met.

Still his blood is starting to boil.

"As if that demon was a better company." He says, without measuring his words.

Astral's posture is tense now:" He was of amazing company. Always with a ridiculous joke, trying to make me laugh. Always full of confidence that I would get Hilda back."

"On the other hand-" he waves in Fi's direction:" That cold hearted monster doesn't care about anything but her beloved Master!" His tone is louder.

Sky gets up:" That creepy bloodthirsty freak isn't better!"

There is no way to tell who jumped on who.

Sky only knows that he is on the ground, wrestling Astral and blind rage is the only thing driving them now.

"Sky!" One of his brothers shouts, but he completely ignores him.

Astral has a stronger grip than Sky, he pins him to the ground ready to punch him.

Astral may be stronger but Sky is quicker. He grabs his scarf, pulling him and headbutting him, as hard as he can.

Astral loses his hold of Sky, but still manages to punch him in the face.

Sky tries to attack back, but he is pinned back down again:" Cut it out!" This time by Warriors and Twilight.

"Astral! Calm down!" In the meantime, Minus and Midday are holding back Astral.

Hope and Time are standing between them, both concerned:" Sky! This isn't like you!" "Friend, deep breaths."

Finally, the two stop and accept to be treated for the wounds they inflicted on each other.

"What happened? You were acting strange even before." Wars tries to get answers but Sky stays silent, same Astral when Hope asks questions.

He just gives Hyrule the time to put badges on the worse injuries before getting up:" Sky!" Astral dies the same:" Astral!"

"If you-" Sky points a finger on his chest:"-Talk about Fi like that again. Not even your goddess will be able to save you."

Astral grabs his wrist tightly:" Try to even say Ghirahim's name and you will beg to face the Demon King again, instead of me."

He lets go of Sky.

They both turn in the opposite directions and leave to take a walk.

Their companions don't try to call for them.

-----

As already said under Astral's original post, Sky and Astral don't get along.

This is just the first of many fights between the two, even if they restrain themselves from punching the other, only for their brothers' sake.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Fathomless Vespers - 13. A Monster

Summary: Honestly speaking, it was just too many revelations for one night. The twins mer-forms. The way these other vampires viewed you. The idea of being a monster… Suffice to say, it was a lot.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 2433

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Even despite my relief at seeing him, I couldn’t help but stare at Floyd in slight alarm. I’d known he was a merman, of course, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

Not only were his hands webbed with clawed fingernails, but most of his skin was now green with a few white areas made up largely by his chest, hands, and face, and his legs were long gone and replaced by a thick, muscular tail. And on top of all that, Floyd had also somehow, impossibly, grown so that he was even larger than he’d already been. In fact, he outright loomed over the end of the dock I was on, and I could only see his upper body.

But, even then, this was undeniably Floyd. Even if he looked far more menacing than the Floyd I’d gotten to know over the past little bit.

I slowly turned, looking back at the four vampires, who now looked far more hesitant at the appearance of the merman. And I couldn’t really blame them, but I really didn’t have time to consider much about what was going on beyond the fact that things had just shifted in my favor.

I shoved the stake into my crossbow, eyeing all four of them and knowing the situation had vastly changed already as I played off my nerves and pretended like I had nothing to be concerned about, “You were saying?”

The blonde woman was the first to react, her face twisting from its previous discomfort at the mere sight of Floyd into a haughty grin, “Well, aren’t you confident now, little hunter?”

The man next to her scoffed, briefly eying Floyd before his gaze slid back over to me, “He doesn’t change that much. He’s still trapped in the water, and you’re here with us. On land.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to let him know that I agreed with him. Not when I was going up against them.

After all, it was already obvious that there wasn’t going to be much of a chance of convincing them.

“Hey, what if they run to him for protection?” The vampire with the red-orange eyes hissed to his companions, but his wariness only earned him a scoff from the blonde woman.

“Run from us into the arms of another vampire? They’d either be stupid or in his thrall, and we all know they’re far more connected to Schoenheit than any other vampire.”

I tensed slightly at Vil’s name, surprised to hear him get mentioned before I went back to scanning the area.

Even with Floyd’s presence, this wouldn’t be easy. I still had to keep any of them from getting ahold of me and stop them all. And right now it was the dreaded waiting game. I wouldn’t fire until they attacked first. 

I refused to kill them unless it was strictly necessary, but I was all but positive that was going to be the case.

At the very least, they didn’t seem very open to any conversation involving me talking them out of this.

And I was quickly proved right as the blonde woman launched, blurring through the space as I jerked to the left before spinning and hurriedly firing.

The stake slammed into one of the men’s chest rather than her, though, and he stared at me wide-eyed. But I couldn’t blame him. I was just as surprised as he was. I’d only barely realized that her attack had been a feint in time to spin and shoot at the actual attacker.

But then everyone, save for perhaps Floyd, seemed stunned by how quickly everything had happened, and I stared as the vampire crumpled to his knees before dissolving into a pile of ashes. 

The vampire with red-orange eyes let out an enraged snarl as the women hissed, with the blonde making a dive towards me. She was caught with a high-pitched screech as one long arm looped around her and dragged her backward as I heard something that sounded disturbingly like a laugh from Floyd.

I gasped, stumbling backwards as she was pulled backward. Kicking, screaming, and clawing at Floyd’s arm as he dragged her off the dock and into the dark liquid that became still all too quickly as I stared in horror at where they’d disappeared.

And then there was silence. As if she’d never even been here.

“DANA!” I whirled at the yelled name, only to find the remaining vampire looking back off into the darkness.

I swallowed thickly, forcing myself to move as I loaded another stake, watching with bated breath. I could only assume the darker-haired lady had fled when she’d seen what happened to her friends.

Now it was just me and the remaining man with those inhuman red-orange eyes of his that now stared at me.

His eyes darted briefly between the water and me before he let out a hissing growl that had me swallowing thickly as I braced myself for whatever was about to come. 

“You MONSTER!” I all but flinched at his bellowed words, watching as his trembling hands curled into fists at his sides while he breathed heavily.

It was at odds with all the other vampires I’d fought. Unlike them, this man was more emotional.

And it was a painful reminder that vampires weren’t really any less human than I was. He’d just seen his companions get killed or flee and abandon him.

I found myself lowering my crossbow and shaking my head sorrowfully, “Just go. We don’t have to do this. You can just walk away. I won’t-”

My words were cut off with a sharp inhale as he dove towards me, his eyes wild with rage. I barely got the crossbow lodged between us like the world’s tiniest and most pitiful shield as he pushed me to the ground and snapped at me.

There was nothing sane in those eyes, but some cold part of me that clung to logic, even at a time like this, wondered if I was the cause of the madness in his face rather than it being the vampirism that cursed him.

After all, it was like what he’d seen had just broken him far beyond repair.

My body reacted far faster than my mind did, though, as I curled my legs and kicked out. Barely managing to force him off and send him skidding across the dock as I scrambled backwards.

He snarled like an enraged animal, and I aimed with trembling hands. But it wasn’t just fear that caused me to shake this way. It was the horrible realization that he was right. In his eyes, I was a monster. 

A merciless creature that killed his kind.

And at this point, I was quite likely the person who’d pushed him to the point of such madness.

Saliva seemed to pour from his mouth, and he let out a low chuckle, “I can hear it, you know. Your fluttering little heartbeat. It’s been pounding this whole time.”

My grip tightened on the bow as I fought to steady my shaking, alarm creeping into my thoughts as he continued. His voice turning oddly high-pitched and wavering. Deranged as he straightened from his crouch, “Is it tired? It must be, from the way it’s racing.”

I swallowed, grounding myself as he braced himself, getting ready to lunge at me again as his eyes seemed to flash, “Would you like me to let it rest and kill you like the monster you are?!”

He dove, and I fired in that same instant, even though I knew what it would mean. I grimaced as the wood plunged into his chest, bloodless but still with a sickening sound, and he looked at me, staring directly into my eyes as his face twisted into a cruel smile before he turned to ashes that rained down on me.

I let the crossbow fall from my hands, and the stake from his chest landed heavily in my lap. I blinked rapidly as my eyes began to sting from the ashes and dust.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I fought the urge to rub at them, knowing that my dusty hands would only make it worse.

But it was done. They were all gone, and I was alone.

I stared at the stake, in my lap, ignoring the wetness that built up in my eyes before it overflowed. Sending warm tears sliding down my cheeks as I fought to control my shaking that had started back up like it had never stopped in the first place.

There was a horrible bundle of emotions in my throat that threatened to choke me out as I inhaled with a wavering breath, doing my best to calm myself.

“Poor little thing. You just realized you’re as horrible as we are, haven’t you? And now you’re all alone, with no friends by your side. What can a sweet little thing like you do?” I barely had time to tense at the sound of the too-sweet voice before I was tackled.

My head collided with the ground as the woman landed on me, her dark hair loose and hanging from her head like a curtain as she smiled down at me, her fangs winking in the dim light of the street lamps.

It was here. The other vampire from before.

And even as I recognized her and realized precisely how foolish I’d been to think she’d just leave, I panicked. Only for her to leap backwards and off, landing agilely in a crouch as she gazed at me with wide eyes and a smile still on her face.

I scrambled backwards, my hands searching for the stake on my lap, only to find there was nothing there.

I glanced around wildly as my back collided with something, only to freeze as I heard her giggle.

My eyes were wide as she held up her hand, the wooden stake curled her delicate fingers before she let it drop to the ground as she stood.

“Poor little thing. What can you really do?” I could feel the hairs on my arm raise as I shoved my hand into my bag, my fingers curling around the last stake as she darted towards me.

I inhaled sharply, yanking the wood out of my bag only for something to land on the wooden floor in front of me. Its weight bouncing the entire dock and causing the wood to groan as she collided with its form.

I stared wide-eyed as Jade held up an arm to block her that she latched around. Clinging to it as she bit down with a frustrated sound. And at odds with her palpable anger at having been interrupted, he merely gave a low hiss before he casually reached around and dragged her off of him.

She flew through the air as he slung her, landing hard on the ground with a pained sound before she pushed herself up. Her mouth was stained a brilliant red as she practically snarled at him.

“I don’t recommend you come back. Not that you’ll have time too,” Jade’s voice was filled with a distinct note of mocking but was still effortlessly smooth as she scrambled to her feet before taking off into the night.

“Aw~ You’re letting her get away?” Floyd’s voice sounded directly after a soft splashing sound from the water, but I was too busy staring at Jade, who was rubbing his mildly bloodied arm with a frown that spoke less of pain and more of having to deal with a mild annoyance.

“Yes, she won’t make it far, though. By morning there’ll be a new pile of ash somewhere,” Mismatched eyes flickered over my way as Jade scanned me carefully.

My mouth was working before my voice was, and I shook my head before finally managing to speak properly, “I-... Wha-?”

“Shrimpy, are you alright? You don’t look too good,” Floyd’s voice cut me off, and I glanced over to see him drifting through the water along the edge of the dock to peer around his brother at me. His expression was a mask of concern, and all at once I wondered what face I was making.

“I-” I faltered again as I started to answer, not even sure what to say. 

I needed to thank them, but I found my gaze falling back down to the stake that now lay across the deck from me where the vampire had dropped it when she’d slung herself away from Jade.

I jolted as a wet hand touched my face, and I all but jerked away as I looked up wide-eyed at Jade, who pursed his lips as he eyed me closely. 

He stared at me in unfathomable silence before he finally spoke, “Can you make it back home?”

I blinked at him before slowly starting to nod. I swallowed thickly, pushing myself to my feet until I was standing on wobbly legs before nodding again, “Yeah...Yeah, I can manage. Thanks…”

I trailed off awkwardly before walking across the dock. I knelt and collected the stakes and shoved them haphazardly in my bag as I went. Doing my best to ground myself with the idle work and ignore the way the twins gazes lingered on me until I couldn’t handle it anymore and found myself looking back towards them.

Both of them held my gaze for a brief moment, watching me carefully until Jade at last nodded. 

He glanced briefly at Floyd, who nodded back at him before looking my way with a smile crossing his face that had me wondering how he could be so different from the way he’d been mere moments ago.

“We’ve still got work to do down here, Shrimpy. You head on home, and we’ll come by and visit tomorrow. ‘Kay?”

I felt myself nod again at his words, a little slower this time as Jade pushed himself off the deck and back into the water. Splashing down loudly as I faintly managed to speak at long last, “Okay.”

Jade resurfaced, looking my way with a smile that made me wonder if I’d imagined the concern in the twins eyes, “We’ll see you tomorrow night then. Take care.”

With that, the two of them disappeared with what ought to have been an ominous degree of silence. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Had those vampires all been insane, or were they just hungry?

At this point I would never know, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. But something told me I wouldn’t be sleeping too well tonight.

If you would like to read more:

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[boneapplet]

A Love Born in Blood pt.17

Relationship: Angron x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: minor descriptions of a difficult pregnancy

Word Count: 1780

Requested Tags for All Works: @beckyninja @runin64 @ilovewolvezz

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17

               Engines howling like the damned, the ship trembles in the grip of the warp. Inside its war-hardened frame, the World Eaters keep to themselves, sharpening blades and tempering fury, but their master doesn’t rest. His Legion, blood-drenched and glory-hungry, doesn’t understand what he’s doing. They whisper behind vox-helms, uncertain why their master diverts their fury toward an obscure mining world. It isn't conquest. It isn’t retribution. It’s personal.

Standing alone in the strategium, Angron paces—each step loud, thunderous, uneven. Before him, the hololith loops over and over again, showing the red-ringed designation: Subject A-19234R. Designation: Concubine-class Asset. Location: Gheltor Secundus.

               No name. No image. Just the designation. Just the echo of a life. The vitals hadn’t updated. The file hadn’t grown. Every moment that passed, she might be dying. His lips don’t form her name. They haven’t since the night they tore her from him—since he picked up her torn shawl with his blood-slicked fingers, when he broke in the sand of a dying camp. But he knows. The Butcher’s Nails scream. They always do. But for once, it is not only rage they feed. Beneath the boiling tide, another fire simmers. Older. Deeper. Hotter.

“Evara,” the word escapes, barely audible.

Khrivan, the tech-adept, watches from the perimeter. The last datafeed left nothing clear. No status. No exit log. Just a record expunged too neatly, scrubbed by someone with authority. Someone who thought Angron would never come looking. They were wrong. Khrivan tries again to speak—mentioning atmospheric density reports, obfuscated orbital traffic, the need for stealth.

Angron’s fist slams into a support strut, denting the adamantium. He turns toward the projection, eyes glowing like dying stars.

“I want Gheltor’s planetary logs cracked. Civilian manifests. Dockyard exports. Labor shifts. Even their sewage cycles, tear it apart. If a single scrap of her passed through that world, I’ll find it. They tried to bury her in silence.” He says.

Then, softer—dangerously calm. “They will tell me why.”

Khrivan nods quickly, fleeing to carry out the order.

Left alone once more, Angron approaches the hololith. With unexpected gentleness, he presses his armored hand to the flickering projection. For a moment, his shadow swallows it whole. He remembers her touch. Her breath against his shoulder. The way she had never flinched—not from his temper, not from the implants, not from the pain. In her presence, the monster had been just a man. She had seen what the Emperor hadn’t. There’s something else gnawing at him. Not the Nails. Not the fury. Fear. Not for himself, but that he might be too late. That whatever remained of that night, that woman, that hope, might already be ash.

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

               The freighter lurches as it breaks the upper thermosphere. Evara braces herself on the crate wall, her breath ragged, sweat slicking her hairline. Every jolt of the vessel is a new assault on her exhausted body. Her body aches in places words don’t reach. But she’s off-world, she made it.

The cabin is dark, shielded against tracking arrays, reeking of rust, coolant, and fuel. The crew keeps their distance. They don’t ask her name. All they know is she paid in secrets, not thrones, and that someone wanted her caged badly enough to raise a planetary alert once she vanished.

Tucked in the inner lining of her coat, the shawl fragment still lives. Pressed sometimes to her lips. Other times, her belly. The child stirs inside her again. Too early for motion, the data she read had told her. Every shift, every flutter, feels like being punched from the inside. She exhales through her teeth and rubs her lower abdomen, whispering nonsense words of comfort, half to herself, half to the life she carries.

“We’re not safe yet.” She whispers it like a lullaby.

Across the bay, Larn watches her. He doesn’t ask questions. They struck a deal, favors for freedom. Still, something in his scarred face suggests he knows more than he admits. He’s seen desperation like hers before, but never quite like this.

“You’ll make it off,” he says quietly, more assurance than promise. “The crew doesn’t talk. They’re ghosts, same as you.”

She nods. Each breath burns. The stimulant is wearing off, leaving her shaking. There’s a sharp ache down her spine and a pressure beneath her ribs. She knows this pregnancy is not normal. She feels it in her bones. The child is growing too fast. Her body is breaking to house it. Still, she won’t stop. The freighter’s nav-officer, a woman with augmented eyes and a voice like gravel, ducks into the hold.

“Next stop is Shalritha, neutral space. Rotworld, mostly independent. Not safe, but unaligned still. You’ll disappear there, if you’re smart.”

Evara nods faintly.

As the woman leaves, Evara exhales and closes her eyes. The freighter shudders again, cutting into realspace. Somewhere out there, she knows, Angron is still alive. Something deep in her blood, whispers that he is coming. But she cannot rely on hope. She is alone and must ensure their child won’t be born in chains.

Tightening the coat around herself, leaning her head back against the vibrating wall.

“Just a little further,” she murmurs. “Just a little longer. I’ll keep you safe. Even if I have to crawl through the dark to do it.”

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

The freighter shudders as it punches through the atmosphere of Shalritha, a world cloaked in volcanic ash and storm-born shadows. Evara clutches the edge of the cargo hold, the metal cold beneath her sweat-slicked hands. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps. Each jolt of turbulence is agony, her spine aflame, her abdomen a storm of pressure and swelling pain.

Shalritha rises beneath them, a soot-swept ruin of steel canopies and slag towers veiled in permanent dusk. The entire planet groans under industrial overuse—a haven for exiles, dissidents, and traders who ask no questions.

Larn appears at her side, jaw tight. “We’ve only got minutes. The port logs are already flagged. You’ll disappear faster if we split now.”

Evara doesn’t respond at first. Her fingers drift to her coat, brushing the shawl fragment hidden in the inner lining. The warmth there feels almost imagined, almost memory. The pain in her belly spikes again—sharp, unnatural. She winces, a tremor of weakness nearly buckling her knees.

“I need a medicae,” she breathes, voice shaking. “One that doesn’t ask.”

“I know someone,” Larn says. “Midhive, sector six. Augmetic surgeon. Fallen off the books. Keeps old secrets for pay.”

“Then take me.”

               Rain pours in streaks of acidic gray as they cross the cracked ferrocrete causeways, weaving through forgotten alleyways and vent-hung bridges slick with rust and dripping coolant. The sky above is a fractured dome of faint electric storms, painting everything in stark, stuttering light. Cloaked in a smuggler’s garb, staggers out onto a platform swamped in rain and soot. Shalritha smells of oil, old blood, and damp metal. She nearly collapses as her foot touches the cracked ferrocrete. Larn steadies her.

“We need to get you off the main port grid,” he says.

Evara leans heavily on Larn now, every step harder than the last. Her body has begun to rebel against her. Her temperature surges and drops. Her joints ache with pressure. Something is growing too quickly inside her, a life not quite like others. They descend through a hatch behind a collapsed transport hub, entering a maze of service tunnels nicknamed the “Undercrawl,” where Shalritha’s ghosts barter silence in blood. Larn knocks on a warped metal door carved with archaic symbols.

“Old friend,” he calls. “We’ve brought coin. And something rarer.”

With a hiss the door opens. Beyond it stands a woman with half a skull replaced by an augmetic frame, one eye a hollow lens, the other gleaming with sharp intelligence.

“She’s breaking,” Larn says simply, nodding toward Evara.

“Come,” the surgeon replies, voice distorted through a speaker embedded in her throat. “Before she tears apart.”

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

Khrivan returns, this time pale, breathless, data-scrolls in hand.

“My lord,” he stammers. “We decrypted an outbound freighter manifest from Gheltor’s unregistered dockyards. One departure… matching an unsanctioned biometrics flag. Female. No name. Code-red exit protocol triggered post-launch. Destination: Shalritha.”

Angron's knuckles whiten as he grips the data-table. His teeth grind.

“Course change,” he growls. “We follow.”

The helmsman protests, only barely “Lord, Shalritha is under sigil-sanction by the Mechanicus. Navigating it—”

“We follow,” Angron repeats, voice like a landslide. The Nails shriek approval.

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

               Laying still on a rusted medical slab, her eyes half-lidded. Cold light pools over her face as the surgeon’s drones buzz low, scanning her trembling form.

“You’re lucky you made it this far,” the woman murmurs, studying the readouts. “This isn’t a normal gestation.”

Evara says nothing.

“The fetus is accelerating cellular division. Hyper-dense muscle growth. Neural spikes off the chart. Your body’s fighting it, losing. But it’s alive. Strong. Whatever it is… it wants to live.”

Evara’s eyes blur with tears she doesn’t let fall.

“I want it to live,” she says. “Can you help me carry it to term?”

The surgeon doesn’t respond right away.

“Maybe. With augmentic support. Blood infusions. You’ll be half machine by the end.”

“Fine,” Evara says through clenched teeth. “Just… get me that far.”

“And then what?”

Evara’s voice lowers. Her hand finds the shawl fragment again, clutched like a vow.

“Then I disappear. With him.”

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

In the void’s hungry mouth, the Conqueror cleaves through reality like a spear. Its hull groans with the fury of chained gods. Angron stands in the forward observatory chamber, silent amid the data-streaming hololiths and burning incense of blood rites.

Tech-Adept Khrivan kneels beside the relay node, his hands trembling as a scrambled data feed begins to resolve. “Coordinates align. One freighter. Unflagged registry. Illegal flight path. Landed on Shalritha… forty-two hours ago.”

The hololith flickers. No names. No faces. But Angron sees the trail. He feels it, chest tightening at this. The Nails throb, but it isn’t rage that moves him now. It is something else—quieter, more dangerous. A certainty. She is there. Lifting the torn shawl from beneath his vambrace, pressed close to his skin for months now, forgotten by all but him. Its fibers are brittle, scorched with dried blood, but still red. Still hers.

“She didn’t vanish,” he mutters. “They took her. And she survived.”

The void responds with silence, broken only by the growl of engines and the hum of war.

“Deploy two gunships when we breach orbit,” he growls. “Sweep the hive. Civilian sectors first. No fire unless I command it.”

Khrivan’s eyes widen. “Lord… you mean to land?”

Angron turns, eyes glowing like a furnace behind his helm. “I mean to find her.”

[liquid-bonhomme]

When Lily said to "name 50 villians" who are "sympathetic," that was too easy. But now that we've graduated to Lily's bullshit moving of the goal post . . . Well, being annoying is one of my special interests, so.

Naming 50 villians who, "have a point, successfully navigate still being a villian, and are well written."

(Extra challenge: trying not to repeat any of the ones Crim and Ant have already named. Sorry if I repeat one by accident.)

1. Frank, The Wasp Factory by Ian Banks

2. Brandy Alexander, Invisible Monsters by Chunk Palahniuk

3. AM, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream by Halan Ellison

4. Willy Loman, Death of a Salesman

5. Shylock, The Merchant of Venace

6. Beloved, Beloved by Toni Morrison

7. The Cenobites, The Hell Bound Heart, Hellraiser (1987), Hellraiser 2, Hellraiser (2022)

8. Starro, The Suicide Squad

9. Can't name this character without spoilers for Invincible, but the character who ends up with their brain in a jar at the end, Invincible (comic)

10. Goff, Peacemaker

11. Rorschach, Watchman (comic)

12. Ozymandias, Watchman (comic)

13. The Comedian, Watchman (comic)

14. Can't name this character again because spoilers, but the last person Hughie fights, The Boys (comic)

15. Mr. Freeze, Batman (comic and animated series)

16. Christiane, Eyes Without a Face

17. Ryu, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

18. Dong-jin, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

19. Lee Woo-jin, Old Boy (2003)

20. Lee Geum-ja, Lady Vengance

21. Curtis Everett, Snowpiercer (film)

22. The Assassin, Mad God

23. "Su-yeon/Eun-joo", A Tale of Two Sisters

24. "Pyramid Head", Silent Hill 2

25. Alessa, Silent Hill 1

26. Claudia Wolf, Silent Hill 3

27. Lady Hideko, The Handmaiden

28. Jennifer, Jennifer's Body

29. Robert Neville, I Am Legend by Richard Matherson

30. The Machines, The Inevitable Conflict by Isaac Asimov

31. Master, Reason by Isaac Asimov

32. Hanna, Baby Teeth by Zoje Stage

33. The Artist, Mermaid in a Manhole

34. Red Death, The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe

35. Father Paul, Midnight Mass

36. Death, Fall of the House of Usher

37. Death, The Seventh Seal

38. Hell, No Exit

39. Winslow Leach, Phantom of the Paradise

40. May, May

41. Jean Jacket, Nope

42. Hayley, Hard Candy

43. Red, Us

44. Violet Hubbard, Penance by Eliza Clark

45. Charles Kinbote, Pale Fire by Vladimir Nobokov

46. You, House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

47. Tess Clark, Haunted by Chunk Palahniuk

48. "Oba Yozo", No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

49. Asami, Audition (Novel and film)

50. Arsriel, His Dark Material by Philip Pullman.

A few of these are malicious compliance-- but Lily made the rules, not me. I made sure to scatter them in the list, so, good luck to her picking them out considering she only watches cartoons, lol.

[starscreamisreginageorge]

Future Sparks Bio: Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker

After loosing her own trine their creator was left raising her boys all alone. Though money was always tight (to the point she wasn't able to send them to school, and would often go without fuel herself) she did everything she could to give them a decent life.

After a plague outbreak the three found themselves orphaned on the street. Starscream as the oldest took it upon himself to find any work he could to feed his little brothers. Though he had taught himself to read, giving him a little bit of an advantage, his personality and status as a street scrap (cybertronian version of street rat) meant most of the work he got was not exactly legal. Jobs are also often very few and far between meaning the three often had to resort to stealing. Though the older two were hesitant due to him being the baby of the family it was often Skywarp who did the stealing due to his warping abilities allowing him to make a quick get away. They also realise they can use the fact there is three of them to steal fuel from other street kids. At first they don't fair well in these fights but they quickly improve .

Later when Starscream is barely an adult he makes a deal with a rich mech he meets during a delivery job. Come work for him for no pay (fuel and shelter would be provided of course), and he will pay Thundercracker and Skywarp's way through military school. Starscream agrees seeing this as their only chance at a slightly better life. During his time there his name is changed to Pretty Poison, to show he now belongs to the other mech, an ironic choice as he starts to use his spare time studying diferent plants and their poisonous properties. (Though he's not paid he quickly became the masters favourite (this did not stop him from abusing him). Especially after "catching" a "thief" in the act. (He framed her as revenge for her getting his only friend among the "servants" fired.)

Well it turns out the other mech lied about paying for Thundercracker and Skywarp's time in military training. He'd paid the entry fees but after that they were left on their own, struggling to scrape enough together to be able to even get fuel.

When Starscream learnt this he was furious and started planning to make him pay. There were already plansto escape with Megatron, and any who chose to come with them, but originally there were no plans to kill anyone (unless they tried to stop them). Unable to walk away without making him pay however Starscream waited until his master had invited all of his friends over for a celebration. After he'd killed all his friends and force fed him energon he'd drained from his conjunx, Starscream ripped off his face (the first of his collection of body parts) before warning him if he sounded any alarm he would kill his newly forged sparkling. Though he promised he'd send the child back to him in three days he decided instead he left the child on the doorstep of an elderly couple (the child would have a better life away from that monster anyway).

During the early days of the Decepticon's Starscream enjoys his role as SIC and Megatron's lover. However as the other mech grows increasingly paranoid, a trait not helped by Starscream's manipulative nature, and cruel towards him, he starts to think he needs to get rid of his new master. Unfortunately unlike the last one Megatron knows his true nature and so will not be so easy to trick.

Things are made further complicated by his youngest siblings adoration for their leader, which further fuels the growing resentment he has for the younger seekers. After all if it wasn't for them he wouldn't have sold himself in the first place.

Age Range: Starscream: Adult (mid 30s) Thundercracker: Adult (early to mid 30s) Skywarp: Adult (early 30s)

Earth Alt mode:

Starscream & Skywarp:

Thundercracker:

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story: Pt. 23

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 22

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, light smut, nightmares, arguing, mentions of violence/domestic violence, sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, anxiety, panic attack, crying

Word Count: 8k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 23: Scary Monsters and Super Creeps

Monday, June 26th, 1989

You've been grinding on Eddie's lap on his couch for what feels like hours, hungrily kissing his plush lips and tangling your fingers in his hair. His hands are squeezing your ass, leading you as your hips roll against him. You both let out low moans at every touch, winding each other up more and more with every passing second. You break away from his mouth, migrating to suck on his neck. "I love you, Eds." You say breathily, nipping his throat with your teeth. You await his reply, but he doesn't say anything. He's stopped the motions of his hands as well, going completely still. You look up to see what's going on. His face has gone stiff as stone, and his eyes look right through you. "What's wrong, love?" You ask, cupping his cheek.

"Get out." He says flatly, ceasing his touches on you altogether.

"What? Why?" You ask, confused. You were both having a good time just a second ago, and now he wants you to leave?

"I said, get out!" He yells at you, violently shoving you off of him. You gasp as you fall backwards from his lap and onto the floor of his trailer.

"What the hell is your problem?" You shout back, Eddie's never gotten physical with you like this. He would never, ever hurt you. Right?

"My problem? I think you fucking know, Y/N." He replies angrily, crossing his arms.

"Clearly I don't, Eddie. Can you just tell me?" You ask, matching his attitude. You have no clue where this is coming from, he's not himself at all.

"God, could you be any more stupid? I'm talking about Tommy!" He shouts, getting on his feet. His fists ball at his sides as he looms over you, and you're afraid he might hit you.

"What about him? I already told you everything!" You don't back down, standing up as well. You cross your own arms, shaking like a leaf as you wait to see where this goes.

"Oh, right!" He laughs mockingly. "Yeah, I don't buy that whole sob story, sweetheart. You keep...letting him touch you, and call you little names. If he's so fucking awful, why don't you fight back?" There's such cruelty in his voice, and his facial expression isn't much better. Is he seriously trying to suggest that you want to be harassed?

"Because...we'd lose our jobs, Eds. And we need the money...for our future." You say sadly, tears welling in your eyes. You wish you could tell him why the money is so important, that you want to move in together and get your lives started for real.

"Our future? What the fuck does that even mean, Y/N?" Eddie yells even louder, getting closer to you. You flinch at his words, your eyes squeezing shut to avoid looking at him. "Look at me!" He screams, and you open your eyes again. His face has gone all red, the vein in his neck poking out in his rage. "You know what I think, princess? I think you like the extra attention. To have two guys into you at once, that's gotta be thrilling for you. And I know how much you like a thrill...I'm sure Tommy does, too." His words make you want to vomit. This isn't Eddie, this isn't the man you fell in love with. But here he is, standing before you, saying the most vile things. You thought he was different. But you guess you were wrong.

"You know damn well that I don't like what Tommy's doing. I love you, Eddie. I only want you. I don't know what else you want me to say." You say in defeat, seconds away from tumbling to the floor. Your knees threaten to give out from under you, and your brain is in a swirling frenzy of fear and anger. You resent him for assuming the worst of you, and you're afraid to lose him all the same. This is all too much, this can't be happening.

"Well, I don't love you." His words feel like a knife stabbing you deep in your heart, but he doesn't stop there. "I can't love you...because you're a whore." The proverbial blade twists, deepening the agony. His eyes bore into yours, letting you know he means everything he's saying. He steps closer as he continues to speak, which in turn makes you walk backwards with every footfall. "You're a whore for attention. A whore for pain. A whore for pity. I'm sure you tell every man you meet about your father ditching you. Crying in their arms, eating up the comfort they offer. Stop me if I'm wrong, here, sweetheart." Your back meets the wall, with Eddie standing just centimeters away from your face. "Answer me!" He shouts again, some of his spit hitting your cheek.

"You're wrong, Eddie. I only care about you. I love you more than anything. You're my whole world. I need you." You sob uncontrollably as you try to get him to understand. Your vision blurs with tears, and your chest hitches repeatedly as you continue to fall apart.

"Stop lying, bitch!" He screams, and his hand comes up to slap you across the face. It stings like nothing you've ever experienced, and you gasp in shock at him hitting you.

"I'm not lying! I love you, Eddie! Please, you have to believe me!" You sob even harder, to a point where you feel sick to your stomach.

"Shut up! Just shut up! You're a liar! A liar, and a whore! I fucking hate you! I can't stand you! Your phony panic attacks, and your constant whining and crying about everything!" Eddie keeps slapping you harder and harder with every heartbreaking sentence he utters. He's screaming so loud, his voice rings in your ears.

"Eddie, please! Stop it! You're hurting me! I love you, please! Please! Please!" You beg for him to stop, but he doesn't. His free hand holds you firm against the wall, the back of your skull digging into the paneling as he repeatedly hits you. The slaps hurt so much, and your cheek has begun to swell.

"You lying bitch! You don't love me! You never did! Stop lying!"

"Mew!" Eddie's shouting has been suddenly interrupted by the sound of Arwen's meowing. You're thrown at first, as your eyes have been closed again for a while. You notice the hitting has also stopped, and you look to find that Eddie isn't here anymore. You're not in the trailer anymore, either. You're surrounded by dark fog and nothingness. And then you hear the sound again. "Mew!" Louder this time. And you sense what feels like tiny claws digging into your chest. "Mew!" Another petulant noise from your feline friend.

"Arwen!" You call out, and the words echo into the void. But there's no response. "I've gotta wake up."

Your realization that you were dreaming snaps you awake instantly, and you gasp as you look around you. You're in your room, with Arwen pressing her paws against your chest. None of it was real. Eddie didn't hit you, or say any of those disgusting things. He would never do that. You let out a sigh of relief, wiping your tears away. Your heart is still pounding, and you're coated in sweat. You look at the clock, 9:30am, you slept through your alarm. Your eyes return to Arwen, who's still making imaginary biscuits on your chest.

"Good morning, little one. Thanks for helping me wake up." You say sweetly to her, scratching behind her ears. She leans into your hand, purring loudly. "I gotta call Eddie." You observe aloud, as there's still a teeny tiny part of you that's worried the dream was true. You pluck the kitten away from her pretend bakery, setting her in the plush cat bed on the floor. You jog down the hall, almost tripping as you reach the phone on the end table beside the couch. You fumble with the headset, bringing it to your ear. You pound Eddie's number into the little buttons, waiting for the dial to go through. It rings once, before he picks up.

"Hello?" He asks, and you're so fucking happy to hear his voice.

"Eddie!" You exclaim, a little too loud.

"Y/N? What's wrong? I was just on my way over." You can hear Eddie's concern through the phone, which puts you a little more at ease.

"I, uh, had another nightmare. It was really bad, and scary. I just had to make sure you didn't hate me. I'll explain more when you get here." You're talking way too fast, and some more tears spring from your eyes.

"I could never hate you, princess. I'll be right over, okay? And you can tell me all about it over breakfast." He replies sweetly, wishing he could hold you in his arms and shower you with kisses.

"Okay. I love you, Eds." You sniffle, trying to calm yourself down. There's a pause, and you're worried that you're still asleep. Your chest tightens, and a wave of nausea rolls over you. Here it comes, he's gonna call you a whore again.

"I love you too, sweetheart. See you soon." He says, which makes your entire body relax. He can hear your sigh of relief, and he knows for sure that he needs to get to your place now.

"Bye, love." You reply with a nod, hanging up the phone.

"Everything okay, sugarpuff?" Mom asks, having come from her own room when she heard you making noise a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, just a bad dream. That's all." You try to stop yourself from crying again. But the mere mention of it makes all the awful images of Eddie berating you come flooding back. You burst into tears, and Mom moves forward to take you into a firm hug. Your head burrows into her chest, and you sob uncontrollably.

"Oh, Y/N. It's okay, it was just a dream. Eddie's coming over, right?" She asks, rubbing her hand up and down your back to comfort you. You nod against her at the question, and she tuts lightly. "It's gonna be alright, sweetie. He'll be here soon." You stay with her just like this, standing in the middle of the living room until Eddie shows up a few minutes later. He comes in through the door, and Mom looks over at him. "I think you can take over from here." She smiles at him, pulling away from you.

You meet Eddie's eyes, your own are red and puffy from crying so much. The look of complete and utter care and worry on his face tells you everything you need to know. He closes the door without a word, and you run over to him. You wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing so hard you're almost suffocating him. He strokes your hair with his hand, laying his chin on top of your head. "It's okay, love. I'm right here. Just calm down, it's alright." He coos quietly, trying his best to console you. You've gotta be at work in about an hour, and you still haven't showered, or gotten dressed, or eaten. "C'mon, baby. Let's get you cleaned up and you can tell me everything." He says softly, ending your tight embrace to lead you to the bathroom. He closes the door, and helps you strip off your sweat-soaked pajamas.

You still haven't said a word to him since he's arrived, you just can't manage it right now. Eddie remains patient the whole way, getting the shower set nice and warm for you. He sits on the toilet while you wash up, waiting to hand you a towel. You don't spend a lot of time showering, you want to be able to tell Eddie everything. The warmth of the shower calms you down little by little, and you've stopped crying completely by the time you're done. You step out of the shower, and take the towel Eddie's extending your way. You wrap it around your trembling body, and head over to your bedroom to get dressed. "You ready to talk, sweetheart?" He asks, shutting your door and sitting on your bed. Arwen perks up at his presence, padding her way over to be picked up by him. He does so, setting her in his lap while you pull out your uniform.

"Yeah. I think so." You say quietly, retrieving some panties and socks from your dresser. You begin to recount your terrible nightmare to Eddie, managing to avoid another fit of tears. A couple singular ones still escape, but it's already a major improvement. He doesn't interrupt you as you put every nasty little detail out there. He just listens intently, waiting until the end to weigh in. Once you're finished and dressed, he stands up to put himself before you. He gently sets his hands on your shoulders, and gazes deep into your eyes.

"Y/N, I am so sorry that you went through that. It sounds like the worst dream ever. But I am telling you right now, I would never, ever lay a hand on you." He raises a hand to cup your cheek, making you flinch. He drops it immediately, remembering what the dream version of him did. "Shit, sorry." He clears his throat, kicking himself for the mistake. "I would never call you mean names, or say any of those awful things. I love you so much, baby. And nothing is ever going to change that. I promise." He means every last word he's said, and you appreciate him putting in the effort to make these things clear to you. You didn't have any doubt before, but it's good to hear him effectively put any future ones to rest.

"I love you, too, Eddie. More than anything in the world. Thank you." You carefully press your lips to his, and you melt into each other. Another couple tears roll down your cheeks, and you feel a few come down Eddie's face as well. Your heart swells at the intensity of his love for you. Just hearing you say what he did to you in your nightmare breaks his heart. He knows you don't actually think he'd do such a thing, but he can't even imagine hurting you. Not like that, with such cruel intentions. Never. He wishes so much that you didn't have to see that, feel that. If he could, he'd wipe it all away from your memory for you. Like recording over an old videotape. He'd replace it all with happy things. Kisses, late-night drives, D&D campaigns, movie dates, cuddling in either of your beds. Even things you haven't gotten to do yet. Like living together, picking out furniture, bickering about paint samples. Or getting married, your smiling face as you walk down the aisle, how gorgeous you'd look in your dress. Anything to chase the ugly caricature of himself away.

You break away to breathe, both of you wiping your eyes. "Let's get some food in you, princess. I'd hate for you to go to work hungry." Eddie says quietly, taking hold of your hand. You gladly let him do so, walking down the hall together to the kitchen. You set a Pop Tart into the toaster for Eddie, and pour a bowl of cereal for yourself. "You gonna be okay to work today? We could call you in sick if you want." Eddie offers, always looking for ways to help you feel better.

"I'll be fine, Eds. I think work will take my mind off this. I'll just stew all day if I stay here." You reply, taking a large bite of your Frosted Flakes.

"If you say so, angel." He sighs quietly, munching away at his pastry. He's scared out of his wits at the idea of you going to work today. You're still visibly shaken up, despite him doing everything in his power to comfort you. He has no idea how today will go for you, especially if a certain someone tries his little games on you again. It's pretty much a given at this point, and that's the most terrifying part. Maybe he can get Biggs to keep you in the ticket booth or something, that way you don't have to deal with Tommy at all.

"Alright, everyone. Quiet down, we need to get through these assignments before we open." Mr. Biggs bellows to all of the employees of the Hawk as you stand in a small circle in the lobby. Well, except for Milo since he always works the projector. Your boss looks at Tommy first, pointing his pencil at him while reading the paper in his hand. "Hagan, you'll be in the ticket booth." He moves on down the list. "Jamie and Eddie will be on concessions and clean-up. And Y/N, I'm going to have you do inventory today. You'll just count everything in the storage room and fill it in on this clipboard. You'll also need to add everything currently set out in concessions." Biggs hands you the clipboard he's kept tucked under his arm, and a freshly sharpened number two pencil.

You take them apprehensively, looking down at the sheets of paper clipped to the board. "Um, okay." You say softly. You've never done 'inventory' before. It's usually something that Harriet does as the assistant manager.

"I figured since you've shown such strong work ethic, you can do with a little more responsibility." Biggs says, his lips upturning into a stilted smile. The man doesn't use said facial muscles very often, so it's kinda off-putting. "That'll be all. Let's get to work." He dismisses everyone to attend to their duties, but keeps you behind for a moment. Eddie gives you a look, and you nod to tell him you'll be alright. "Y/N, the reason I'm giving you this assignment is because I think you have potential here. And if you do well with this, and a few other tasks I have in mind, you could very well become a supervisor in the near future. Pay raise and all."

"Oh, really? I appreciate that very much, Mr. Biggs. I won't let you down." You say semi-excitedly. You tone it down so you don't seem too eager for it. But, supervisor...it has a nice ring to it.

"That's what I like to hear. Well, I'll leave you to it. If you need any help, you can ask Harriet. But I'm sure you're bright enough to figure it out on your own." He replies, his smile fading as he mentally moves on to something else regarding the theater. You're just about to go on your way, when he stops you one final time. "Oh, and Y/N? Don't tell anyone about this just yet. I'd hate for them to get jealous, especially since I haven't fully made up my mind."

"Sure thing, sir. I'll keep my mouth shut." You chirp.

"Good woman. Come find me once you're finished." And he leaves you without another word. Eddie's been watching this interaction from the concession counter, quirking an eyebrow curiously. He'll have to ask you about it later on, it appears you’ve got a special job to do. 

You head into the storage room, flicking on the light switch. The overhead light casts shadows all about the place from the stacks of tall boxes that surround you. You look down at the sheet, finding cups listed at the top. They're measured by case, so you go ahead and count the boxes. There's open ones for each size as well, and you're guessing you need to add those, too. But not as a whole. So, according to that logic, there's 4.5 cases of small cups, 3.7 medium, and 5.1 large. This isn't so hard, you think to yourself. You continue down the list: lids, candy, soda syrup, popcorn, artificial butter, napkins, boxed candies, straws, etc. It's simple observation and addition, you're surprised this is considered a supervisory task at all. A monkey could do it. You move on to the refrigeration and freezer in the back of the room, adding up the various pre-made snacks like hotdogs and pretzels. 

You hear the door to the storage area open up behind you, and you don't bother to turn around. You figure it's just Eddie coming in to have some fun with you. You could certainly use it, this morning really fucked you up. You hear the lock click, and a sly smile spreads across your face. "Couldn't wait until later on, Eds?" You ask, back still turned as you keep working your way through the papers.

"'Fraid not, sweet thing. But I think you've got me confused with somebody else." You freeze immediately when you realize it's not Eddie in the now-locked room with you. It's Tommy, who's managed to leave his post outside and slink in here under everyone's noses.

"Go away, Tommy. I'm busy." You say shortly, paying him no mind. If you make it obvious you're uninterested, he'll go away. Won't he?

"Sounds like you're plenty available to me." He sneers, and you hear his footsteps approaching you slowly.

"Well, I'm not. Biggs needs me to finish this." You insist, refusing to face him.

"Ugh, when did you get so boring, babygirl? We used to have so much fun." Tommy's only a few steps away from you now, and you just try to keep working. You've only got half a page left until you can retreat to concessions. Just ignore him. You don't say anything else, pressing your lips together in irritation. After a few moments of silence, he moves even closer. His hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing hard. "It's pretty rude to ignore me, Y/N. You're so uptight. Why don't you let me help you relax?" He speaks in your ear, his hot breath against your skin makes you feel sick.

"Leave me alone, Tommy. I'm not your girlfriend anymore. And I'm definitely not gonna fuck you." You raise your voice a little, hoping it's enough to alert someone out there of the very dangerous situation you've found yourself in.

"Oh, come on, you don't mean that. I know you want me, Y/N. You'd be stupid not to." He leans in from behind to try and kiss your neck.

"Get away from me!" You smack him in the face as hard as you can with the back of the clipboard.

"Ow, fuck! You fucking bitch!" He shouts as his nose starts gushing blood. You push past him and run for the door, hoping to get away. But he catches up to you pretty quickly, pulling you backwards by the arm. You scream in surprise, falling onto your back on the packed carpet. The clipboard falls from your grasp, sliding across the floor. Tommy looms over you, clutching his nose. "You're gonna regret that, Y/N." He seethes, using his free arm to pull you up by yours.

"Let me go, Tommy!" You yell, trying to kick and punch him so he'll let you go. But he's stronger than you, despite only having one hand available. He slams you up against one of the shelves, knocking over a case of Raisinettes. The little cardboard boxes spill all over the floor, the candies inside rolling around their packages. The metal racks sting your lower back and head when you make contact. He presses his body against yours, his nose dripping onto your clean white shirt while he holds you against your will.

"C'mon, Y/N. You're wasting your time with Munson. Let a real man show you how it's done." He insists, his eyes wild. A thick stripe of blood runs down the middle of his face, like an elongated mustache. He pays no mind to drops of it running into his mouth, he's too focused on you.

"Eddie's more of a man than you'll ever be. Now let me go, right now." You hold strong, trying your best to stand your ground.

"What are you gonna do about it? I'm much stronger than you. I can just take what I want if I have to." He says threateningly, tightening his grip on your wrists. You try to kick him in the crotch, but he easily blocks the blow. "Big mistake, Y/N. I was tryin' to play nice." He tries to force his blood-soaked lips onto yours, but you twist your head so they land on your cheek instead.

"Help! Somebody, please! Eddie! Jamie! Someone, help!" You scream, almost gagging at Tommy's blood smearing onto your skin. You don't want any part of him on you, you want this to stop. He keeps trying to kiss you, even going so far as to hold your head in place. This lets your left arm free for a moment, and you take the opportunity to sock him right in the jaw. Your fist lands hard on the bone, and it hurts like hell. You've never really had to punch anyone before, you didn't anticipate inflicting pain on yourself in the process. He cries out at the blow, and tears begin to well in your eyes from your own agony.

"Stop fighting! I'm gonna make you see, Y/N! You should be mine, you need me!" Tommy screams at you, stilling your head. He stares at you with insane intensity, managing to kiss you now. You attempt to scream and cry, but it's muffled by his iron-flavored lips. You keep trying to spit out any and all taste of him, but it just goes back in your mouth. You feel sick, and you can't fight back. He's managed to pin you completely to the shelf now.

You suddenly have the urge to vomit, and you accept it as a way out. Maybe this will be enough to get Tommy away from you. You let it all go, regardless of the mess. The bile rushes up your throat, and spurts against the seal he's created with your lips. Even the force of him can't stop the puke from spilling out. It sprays out slightly from the edges of your mouths, some of which he ends up swallowing. He pulls away at the vile taste, rapidly spitting to get it out. The rest unfortunately lands on your uniform along with his. "Fuck! Ew, I swallowed some!" Tommy almost shrieks, and you manage to push him a few feet away from you.

You dash for the door, fumbling with the handle. You push it down to disengage the lock, finally freeing yourself from captivity. You almost fall onto the floor, scrambling over your own feet to get to Eddie. "Oh, my god!" A random movie-goer exclaims when she sees you covered in your own vomit. You stand upright, pushing past people to reach the concession stand.

Eddie's eyes find you immediately as you reach the counter, and he kicks into overdrive when he sees the state of you. He stops scooping popcorn for the matinee rush, and comes to you. His hands sit on your shoulders, and he searches your face for any information he can find. "Y/N, what's wrong? What the hell happened? Are you sick?" He asks frantically, so many questions at once.

"T-Tommy..." You stutter, before trailing off completely. You feel sick again once the name leaves your lips, and you lunge behind the counter to throw up in the trash can that's kept back here. You fall to your knees, just barely making it into the can. You're an absolute mess, covered in your own barf, barfing some more in front of all the customers. It's all so embarrassing.

"Y/N! You fucking bitch!" You hear Tommy's voice shouting from behind you. He's come out from the closet now, clearly dazed and disgusted from your defensive strategies. Eddie's eyes snap to Tommy, noticing the bloodied nose and vomit covering his shirt and vest. What the fuck did he do? Eddie thinks to himself, his own rage beginning to take hold. "Where is she?" Tommy demands, he can't see you behind the counter.

"I think a better question is what the hell did you do to her?" Eddie seethes, coming out from behind the stand to get closer to Tommy. Please, not another fight. I can't take much more of this. You sob as silently as you can to maintain your hiding place, wiping the puke away from your chin. You look up at Jamie who's frozen in place behind the counter. He gazes down at you, shaking his head as a signal to stay where you are. You nod, agreeing that it's probably best at the moment.

"I didn't do anything! Your fucking whore of a girlfriend on the other hand hit me in the face, twice! And then she yakked all over me!" Tommy retorts, gesturing at himself. The customers in the lobby have stopped to watch the show, gathering along the walls as they've long forgotten about the film they paid to see. Biggs and Harriet come out of their office, wondering what the hell is going on now. They find Eddie and Tommy in yet another stand-off, and all the looky-lou's munching away on their popcorn.

"Attention Hawkins Theater patrons! It appears we have an employee issue to work through here. Please, if you've paid for a ticket, make your way to the auditorium and enjoy your film. If not, I must ask you to leave the premises until we can settle this matter." Biggs announces to the crowd, snapping at Jamie to usher them all to their respective destinations. It takes a few minutes to clear the lobby, but you eventually hear all the chattering voices stop. "Okay. Now, I would love to know why our business day is being interrupted by yet another fight between you two." He says, addressing Eddie and Tommy now.

"Y/N came over to the counter a few minutes ago, clearly upset. I dunno what happened, exactly. But it seems Tommy here had something to do with it." Eddie explains as calmly as he can, clenching his teeth together as he speaks.

"Okay. Well, where is Y/N? I'd like to hear what she has to say." Biggs replies, and you slowly stand up to reveal yourself. You face your boss, tears still streaming down your cheeks. His eyes bug out at how awful you look. "Y/N. Can you please tell us what happened?" He asks, looking very concerned for you.

You nod, coming out from behind the counter completely. You stand beside Eddie, needing him to hold your hand. He does, squeezing lightly to comfort you. "I-I...was doing inventory like you asked. I was almost done, actually. I had my back turned to the door, and I heard someone come in. I thought maybe it was Eddie to check in on me, but it was Tommy." Your eyes flick to Tommy, which you instantly regret. You squeeze them shut for a moment, more stinging tears escaping them. You stare at the floor once you open them again. You're trembling beyond your control, but you have to get the words out. "He, um, locked the door. And he tried to get me to have sex with him. I said no, but he didn't listen. He tried to...k-kiss me, and I hit him with the clipboard. That's why his nose is bleeding." You point awkwardly to Tommy's face.

"Is that all?" Biggs asks, pressing you further.

"No. Um, I tried to run away from him, and then he knocked me down. Then he picked me up, pinning me against one of the shelves." You choke back a sob, and Eddie's other hand strokes your arm gently. You let out a shake breath, and keep telling your story. "He kept trying to kiss me, and he managed to, once on the cheek." You point to said cheek, which everyone can clearly see has a streak of blood on it. "And then I punched him, and I w-was screaming. But I forgot the walls are pretty soundproof in there." You chuckle dryly, not finding it funny at all. "He got mad, and held me harder. He kissed my mouth, and I...uh, threw up." You pause again, another wave of nausea washing over you.

"Anything else?" Biggs asks, and the queasiness thankfully passes.

You nod. "He got grossed out by the vomit going everywhere, and I managed to get away this time. I came to get Eddie, and that's all." You finish awkwardly, losing the ability to form words. Eddie pulls you into his arms, and you continue to sob into his chest. He holds you close, and you can feel him shaking as well. But you know it's for a much different reason. He's angry, furious that this happened. And on today of all days? When you're already having a hard time? Absolutely not.

Biggs contemplates your words for a minute, before speaking once more. "Tommy, get out. You're fired." He says, which makes Tommy scoff.

"What?! You can't do that!" Tommy yells, gearing up to pull out the threats.

"Yes I can, Mr. Hagan. I agreed to give you a job here at your father's behest. But at the end of the day, this is my business. And I will run it as I see fit." Mr. Biggs replies calmly.

"Oh, please! She totally wanted it!" Tommy insists, gesturing at you in an accusing manner.

"No the fuck she didn't, Tommy! She said no, more than once! And she hit you to get away, more than once! And your persistence literally made her sick! What about that says that she wanted anything to do with you?!" Eddie screams, leaving you for a moment to get in Tommy's face. "I told you to leave her alone! But you didn't listen! You kept touchin' her, and calling her names like she's your property! You're a fucking pig!" Suddenly, Tommy's fist makes contact with Eddie's face. “Fuck!” He stumbles back slightly, his hand coming up to hold where he was hit.

"Fuck you, man! I don't want your bitch of a girlfriend anyway! You can have her, she's fucking crazy!" Tommy yells, ending in a resigned laugh.

"Oh, you're gonna fuckin' regret that, Hagan!" Eddie attempts to lunge at Tommy, but Mr. Biggs pulls his arms behind his back, effectively restraining him. "Let me go, dammit! He tried to rape her, for fuck's sake! Fuckin' piece of shit, I'll kill you!" Eddie continues to scream, kicking and squirming to break loose. But Biggs manages to hold him still, not wanting a bloodbath in his goddamn theater.

"Calm down, Munson! He'll only get you in trouble if you hurt him. I know you care about Y/N. We all do, alright? But she's going to be fine. You have to stop, you need to stop!" Biggs does his best to reason with Eddie. It's proving difficult, however, and he's extremely protective of you.

While this is happening, Tommy attempts to make a break for the door. "Oh, no you don't!" Harriet shouts, chasing him down and tackling him to the floor. He squeaks out a groan as the wind is knocked out of him, and she yanks him off the carpet and holds him tight. Harriet may look a bit old and frail, but she knows how to use her strength to her advantage. "Jamie, call the police, please." She calls to your coworker who has stiffened up once again at the fight breaking out. He goes for the phone behind the counter, quickly dialing 911. "I'll lock him in the office until they arrive, boss." She says with a smile as she leads Tommy to the back room. He still tries to break free, but it's no use. "Keep tryin', bub. I did my time in the army, and I can do a helluva lot more than hold you still if I need to." That seems to shut him up, which makes her smirk.

Once the asshole is secured, Biggs lets Eddie go free. "Fuck, man. Should've let me beat his ass. It's what he deserves." Eddie grumbles, rubbing his sore wrists.

"He's not worth it, kid. Trust me. He's the cops' problem now." Mr. Biggs sighs, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Shit, his father is going to rip me to pieces for this."

"Oh, come off it, Henry. You know everyone hates Jack fuckin' Hagan. But they love you, and they love the Hawk. We're a goddamn town landmark. We aren't going anywhere. No rich asshole's opinion is going to change that." Harriet says once she returns to the lobby.

"I suppose you're right, Harriet." Biggs thinks it over for a moment, scoffing slightly. "I can't believe I didn't throw the little snot out of here on his first day."

"None of us could believe it either, sir." Eddie comments, returning to your side as you wait for the police to arrive.

"We'll have to stop the showing, some of these customers are witnesses." Jamie pipes up, taking the initiative to run up to the booth and tell Milo to kill the movie.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, drawing everyone's attention to you as you haven't spoken in a while. You've been too busy listening to everyone else to contribute to the conversation.

"For what?" Eddie asks, wondering why you're apologizing.

"For...the mess. And hitting Tommy. And for dating him in the first place." You say as you begin to fall to pieces again.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It's not your fault. He was gonna hurt you, you were just defending yourself." Eddie tries to comfort you, but you shake your head.

"No! If I wasn't so stupid, none of this would've happened! I made you upset! And the theater is losing business! And I was supposed to do the inventory, because I might be made a supervisor! But I've messed it all up, and we have to deal with the cops again!" You're crumbling into hysterics, sobbing and rambling and blaming yourself. You can't breathe, or think straight, You fall back against the counter, sliding down to the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" You keep repeating, your vision blurring with every syllable. You feel lightheaded, like you might pass out.

Eddie kneels before you, tapping your cheek to keep you conscious. "Y/N, it's okay. I promise, just calm down. I'm right here, princess. Just stay with me." His shaking voice begins to echo and distort. The theater fades to black a moment after.

You wake up an hour later in the back of an ambulance. It's parked outside the theater, with the doors sitting open. You're laying on a gurney, with an oxygen mask over your face. A male EMT is attending to you, checking your vitals on the beeping machines inside the vehicle. Eddie's sat by your side, holding your hand like his life depends on it. Tears stain his cheeks, and his lower lip trembles. He's got a dark bruise next to his left eye, from where Tommy punched him. He notices your fingers twitching in his hold, and he looks to find that you're awake. "Oh, Y/N. Thank fuck!" He lets out a sigh of relief, which gains the attention of the EMT.

"What's going on?" You ask groggily, focusing on his thumb brushing against your fingers to stay lucid.

"You passed out, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" Eddie questions.

"Tired, and oddly hungry." You reply, smiling weakly at him. He returns it, brushing your hair with his other hand. "Can we go home now? Mom's probably worried about me." You sit up, pulling the mask off your mouth and nose.

"She's already here, love. Dustin, too. And the cops need to talk to you." Eddie says softly, slowly pushing you back down onto the gurney. "You gotta slow down, baby. They're still checking you out."

"Okay." You say simply, allowing him to put the mask back over your face. "I'm sorry." You add, the pangs of sadness hitting you again. Today has totally sucked, more than you ever thought possible.

Eddie tuts, shaking his head to reject your apology. "Angel, please stop apologizing. None of this is your fault. I mean it." He speaks seriously, needing you to accept this simple fact. "It's gonna be okay. We'll get through this, just like everything else. Together."

"Together." You nod to affirm his statement. You just need to relax, and ignore your destructive tendencies.

"I'll go get your mom, alright? She's been worried sick about you." He kisses your hand, getting out of the ambulance to give your mother a turn to see you.

"Hey, sugarpuff. How's it going in here?" Mom asks a minute later, hopping up into the boxy vehicle to sit beside you. Dustin's following close behind, squeezing in with her on the little seat inside.

"I'm fine. I think." You laugh lightly, looking down at the wires and IV attached to various parts of your body.

"Eddie called us right away. He was so worried about you, Y/N. He could barely contain himself." Mom says, her heart aching at how incoherent and desperate Eddie sounded when he called your house. He was crying so hard, she could barely make out any words besides 'theater' and 'Y/N' and 'police'.

"Did he tell you everything?" You ask.

"Actually, Mr. Biggs did. Eddie was a mess until you woke up, nobody could understand what he was saying." Dustin answers. He pauses, his eyes changing a little. "Are you okay, Y/N? I'm sorry about what Tommy did." He asks, barely above a whisper.

"I'm okay. Tommy's in worse shape than I am, I'm sure." You roll your eyes at the idea. You hope more than anything that the taste of your puke never leaves his memory, and that his nose never looks the same again.

"Well, he sure doesn't look happy in the back of that cop car." Dustin snickers, earning a small smack on the arm from Mom. "What? He deserves it!"

"That may be true. But I taught you better than that, Dusty." She scolds him, and he bows his head. "Is she cleared to go, sir? She still needs to talk to the police." Mom asks, addressing the EMT.

"Yes, ma'am. Let me just take out the IV, and she'll be all set." He smiles kindly, and you read his name tag. 'Chad'.

"Thanks for the help, Chad. I'm sorry to be such a bother." You joke, making him let out an airy chuckle.

"No trouble at all, young lady. I'd love to go a few more months before seeing you for a third time, though." Chad replies, and your eyes widen. He was the one that took you to the hospital after the fight with Jason. "I see you still have that necklace. It's very pretty on you, I'm glad I didn't leave it behind." He says casually, keeping your eyes on him while he removes the needle from your arm.

"Well, thank you for bringing it along. It means a lot to me." You reply breathlessly, utterly gobsmacked at this man.

"So does the man who's name is carved into it, it seems. He sure is a keeper. Going after not one jerk that messed with you, but two? I've never seen a man so passionate about a woman before." Chad laughs again, drawing one from you, too. "All set, Ms. Henderson. Just make sure to eat real soon, and drink plenty of water."

"I will, Chad. Thanks again." You smile as you remove the mask, sliding off the gurney to go find Eddie. Mom and Dustin keep close behind, and you see your boyfriend leaning against a lightpost while having a smoke.

"All good, babydoll?" Eddie asks, taking your hand as you extend it to him.

"Yep. Let's get these questions out of the way, I'm starving." You reply as Chief Powell approaches you. "Oh, hey, Chief! It's nice to see you again." You smile at the tall man, gaining one in return.

"It's nice to see you, too, Y/N. Though I'd prefer if it wasn't regarding a crime, for once." He chuckles, and you do too. "You ready for us?"

"Yeah. Let's get this over with." You reply, exhaling deeply as you prepare to recount the events of today for the second time. "I'll be right back. You good to wait?" You turn to Eddie for a moment, checking in on him for once. It's been all about you today, you can only imagine how hard it's been for him. To see you cry so much, to see you get hurt again.

"You know it, baby. I'll be right here, and we can go get some drive-thru after." He gives you a warm smile, and you let him go to give your side of the story. It doesn't take long to make your statement, you're able to keep yourself together enough for Powell. He's a kind man, and extremely gentle with his questions.

"Thanks for the help, Y/N. We'll be in touch with any updates." Powell says, dismissing you as he and Callahan make their way back to their vehicle.

You return to your boyfriend's side, when you hear a couple more sets of footsteps approaching you. You turn to see Mr. Biggs, Harriet, Milo, and Jamie. "I'm deeply sorry, Y/N. I never should've kept Tommy on, it was unreasonable and unfair to you." Biggs says, regret lacing his voice. Harriet nudges him, urging him to say something else. He gives her a look, sighing loudly. "And I'd like to offer you the position of supervisor. You'll get a five dollar raise, and I'll go over your duties once you feel comfortable returning to work."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Biggs. I understand the pressure you were put under to hire him. I will say I'm disappointed that you gave in to such a thing so easily, I know you've got more integrity than that. And as for the job, I'll happily take it. I'm looking forward to proving myself worthy of the position." You say as calmly as you can. It's not what you actually feel, you're far more angry on the inside. But you're too exhausted to care about that right now.

"Thank you, Y/N. I hope to see you back soon." He says, turning to leave with Harriet close behind him.

"You gonna be alright, Y/N?" Jamie asks.

"Yeah. I could use a hug from my boys, though. If I'm not too disgusting for you, anyway." You say with a light laugh, and Jamie and Milo reciprocate it. They each give you a tight hug, wishing you well before heading home for the day. It's safe to say the Hawk is closed until tomorrow after all the shit that's gone down. "Food time?" You ask, turning to Eddie once again.

"Food time, princess. Let's go." Eddie smirks, flicking his cigarette away and leading you to the van. You say goodbye to Mom and Dustin, you'll see them at home in a bit. You hop into the van, and Eddie drives you both to get some burgers and fries. You take the food back to your place, sharing it with your family for lunch after you clean yourself up. Afterwards, you're feeling rather tired, so Eddie takes you back to your room. You crawl into bed together, and he spoons you to keep you safe and warm. Arwen is napping in her cat bed, purring quietly as she sleeps.

"I love you, Eddie. I don't know what I'd do without you." You say quietly as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

"I love you too, Y/N. I'm always gonna be here for you." He replies, his words humming against you as he presses tender kisses to the back of your neck. You settle into him entirely, and slowly drift off into a much-needed rest.

To be continued...

[choochooboss]

Introducing your station master & Magma event host!

Since there's already a lot of passengers visiting this station and I haven't spared much time to get to know my fellow submas fans over Tumbrl yet, an introduction would be in place!

I'm Jun, nice to meet you! *offers a hand for for a shake* I am a devoted submas artist & a monthly Magma event host! I go by ChooChooBoss everywhere (Twitter/Bsky/Twitch/Ko-Fi)!

This will be a long post! I will write a short intro as well which you can just skim through but here is a more in depth view how I got into submas, my other interests and life in general, in case you'd wish to know more about your conductor on this silly train!

How did I get into submas in the first place?

PLA. I met this certain mysterious & cool fellow time traveler and got curious! After the cave scene I went to read his Wiki, found out about Emmet, and... yeah. The emotional impact blasted me right out of a miserable cycle I was going through back then and set my soul on fire!! A month later I set up my first art account on Twitter, and the rest is history. They've become my greatest source of strength and inspiration and I enjoy drawing them every single day!

I love both twins very much! I tend to vibe with Ingo a little more than Emmet, but I draw Emmet more. People say I remind of butler Ingo the most, hehe. I certainly don't mind because I'm a big fan of butlermas!! In fact I got into submas & started playing Pokémon Masters EX in April 2022, a week before butler Ingo banner rolled in, so they truly got a special place in my heart ahah! (pssst draw more butlermas for me pls pls pls-)

However I don't draw warden Ingo as much as I would like to. I still get pretty emotional over his fate ahah, I can't draw him without a single tear! This sweet & kind man leading a good life and being an inspiration to others has been torn from literally everything he had for seemingly no reason apart from his name, clothes and the muscle memory and even those are barely intact. It seems like a miracle he's still standing and breathing after put through everything judging by the wear and tear on his uniform and body. Despite all that he carries a positive attitude, assists everyone in need, and does his best to help people and pokémon understand each other, unconditionally... Oh, my face is wet again...

My other interests besides submas?

Monster Hunter! Zelda! Genshin Impact! Super Mario! Trine! Crash Team Racing! And many many more! My favourite genres are platformers, kart racers, and action games, with a side of rhythm games. I'm a big fan of co-op games! I also watch my sis play JRPGs!

Monster Hunter is the dearest to me out of all. I've been hunting for well over a decade starting from MHFU. The games have charmed me with their incredibly satisfying combat system, world building, creature design, great attention to detail, character customisation and the games being nearly fully co-op!!

Other things I do:

Pokémon is practically the only turn-based game I enjoy, mainly because of the characters and collection aspect. However!! I adore Pokémon Colosseum (the first pkmn game I ever played!) and it's double battle focus, so The Indigo Disc has been a delight after the long starvation for double battles, coming up with different combinations makes the battles much more fun to me!!... I sound like Emmet here do I ahahah! We also share the fact we are both left-handed!

Shuffle dancing, daily pull-ups, and expanding my ever growing VGM collection! I also enjoy traveling and taking photos to keep as a diary! I've played piano in a music school for 9 years, and I can also play kalimba. I've done casual boxing, gymnastics, horse riding and medieval swordfighting. I used to read comics/manga and watch movies and anime but nowadays I barely do that, I just rather use that time for drawing instead of just sitting and watching, unless I have company!

I share the apartment with my anxious brother and our two sweet female cats, Laku (11, stubborn and cuddly) and Kalevi (21, demanding and full of love) in a city center. My parents are both entrepreneurs and run a farm in the countryside & I have 4 siblings with me as the middle kid!

Where can you meet me?

I am a game artist by profession, with 4 yrs of studies and roughly 7 years of EXP in the field doing game art, UI design, character/prop design, in mobile games as well as PC titles, 2D and 3D. At the moment I am looking for work; I keep up the motivation and learn new skills by running my art accounts while looking for new opportunities.

I hail from the land of darkness, snow, salmiakki, metalheads and renownly reserved people, Finland! (UTC+2)

Despite having my roots here I am pretty much the opposite of a typical Finn in almost every sense ahah! I'm a small guy who's not afraid talking to strangers and laughs a lot. And I dislike coffee for the contrary, it's very popular amongst finns.

With the inspiration from submas I've finally stepped into the world of cosplay so you can usually meet this small and excitable Ingo in the biggest local conventions, Desucon and Tracon! Come say hi!

About my social battery:

I'm both social and socially anxious ahah! I love making new friends and talking to all sorts of people and writing comments, and gathering together with my mutuals to do cool stuff together! However my social battery is very small... I often struggle with my AD(H)D and anxiety issues, so my replies can be extremely slow. I'm easily overwhelmed when life gets busy and I deal with it by withdrawing to minimise the the stimuli and then sorting my stuff out one by one. This is a frustrating shortcoming, but I'm working hard to find a balance I can maintain without getting exhausted. Please be patient with me! If you don't hear from me in a while, please don't take it personally! In fact, it makes me really happy if you contact me, for any purpose!

Which pronouns do I go with?

I go by they/them! I am also aroace, so if I appear to show any sort of romantic interest, it's definitely not that. I love meeting new people and am quite interested in people in general so I'm excited to get to know you better, but the thing is... I have been confusing people on several occassions for saying things that could be taken as flirting. I am terribly sorry for that, that's just the way I show how I care!

I don't really identify myself by any specific gender either, but rather by my roles or interests (Magma host, submas fan, game artist etc.). Submas encouraged me to enjoy dressing formally even if I'm just sitting at home, because I love formal clothing in general and wearing them makes me feel confident and stand taller! I usually wear collar shirts and black or white slacks.

More about my AD(H)D:

I don't have an official diagnosis but deal with the same problems as AD(H)D people do; poor work memory, dissociation, hyperfocus (drawing and people), sleep deprivation, impulsiveness (juggling too many things and going with the wind), getting sensory/information overloads, and feeling like I don't fit in. I figured it out after I finished school & lost my job for that I am unable to handle big tasks without anyone giving me directions. It has taken a while but I've figured out things that help me manage my daily life as well as have a medication that mainly boosts my capability to get things started which is another great struggle ahah.

How do I manage to keep myself on track?

I use a Pomodoro timer to keep up a good flow and remember to take breaks! This is what I use the most:

I should set it up on my tablet as well. I think it's really cool to see how many hours I have actually put into drawing! Last year I clocked in well over 3k hours, ahaha!

How to catch me?

Right now I have great difficulty managing replies, but usually you can reach me by DMs! I check Discord and Twitter the most often! However I must ask you to respect my current DNI status. It means I am really overwhelmed so I wish nobody comes asking for my attention until it has been lifted, unless it's really necessary. I really love talking to you all but I also have to accept and deal with my own limits strictly like this or it won't work out.

What am I working on at the moment?

Besides the holiday set I have several short comics under works as well as one big comic (100+ pages!). That one is my personal greatest goal! I started working on it in June 2022 and I have currently 40+ pages sketched and 60+ thumbnailed.

I was afraid of starting any comic projects before submas, but the sheer excitement over them carried me over that personal wall ahah!

The story's beginning and end are looking good and somewhat functional but there's still a lot to work to do and holes to fill in the middle before I dare to start fleshing out the pages. I have little experience in writing or comic making so I hope you forgive if some things don't make sense or the dialogue is a little on the nose so to say ahah!

The story will be packed with action with the overall tone being on the darker side, but it sure won't be lacking in humor! The project's main goal is to make it a celebration of all things submas & to prove to myself I can handle a big scale project despite my shortcomings!

This train has reached the terminal!

Thank you for riding my silly submas train!! I adore reading all your tags and comments! They brighten up my day & fuel my passion even more!! I hope to bring many more fun things for you to look forward to!! See you again soon!

ALL ABOARD!!

[howlingday]

Ruby, up and coming hero blessed with the Silver Eyes, has heard terrible news! A horrible fiend has invaded the lands! A demon, hailing from a long and cursed line, master of sorcery and steel, a silver tongued trickster, a slave master, a depraved incubus, foul crafts hiding under welcoming illusions, a keen mind of gears and schemes and plots within plots, stronger than iron and quicker than quicksilver, all this and more, has taken control of an abandoned fortress! Determined to boldly rid the lands of this foul taint, (and to prove to Yang she’s a big girl!) she sets off to confront the monster alone! (Bad girl! That’s the first rule of adventuring: don’t go it solo!)

Except, no???????? Jaune has never seen or heard of any ‘demon’ around here. He just moved in, trying to strike out on his own, but nothing seems to be cursed from what he can see. He seems nice enough too. He’s fixing up the old ruin, disabling traps, healing folks when they wander into his place, and all that. Strong, smart, endlessly kind. Talks about his family a lot, they look so happy in the photo. That crest looks familiar, but it’s probably nothing. Surely he’s not the monster, but she can sure use his help to slay the monster when she finds him!

You see, the Arcs are only labeled villains because they refused to kowtow to the government way back when. Their views on life, other races, virtues, and such also puts them at odds with the narrative. The Arcs also have higher standards before they allow their kids to go on adventures, so even the weakest is very strong even to other adventurers. Slightly inspired by the Mind Reaver comic strips by Edd Lai.

So, I decided to have a look into Mind Reaver by Edd Lai, and I have to say I love the idea. A Mind Flayer that's actually a good guy and helps people who wander into his house. It's cute, especially when his niece and... servant, I think? Anyway, it's all so cute, and I highly recommend y'all check it out. Anyway, on to the story.

===========================

WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE

JAUNE "SALEM'S PALADIN" ARC

REWARD ON APREHENSION

===========================

Ruby looked down at the wanted poster in her hand, carefully examining the features in the mugshot. She'd heard many stories about the Arc family, though much of it was told in the darkest of night as a warning to not stray too far from home, or to not stay up too late, or to file your taxes on time. His jawline was coated in thick hair, and his blue eyes gazed death into the soul of those who view them. There were many other tales, too, like how he'd sway any woman into being his slave, take cannon fire with his bare body, and would even subject whole armies with his sorceries.

Ruby looked up from the poster to see the baby-faced man sitting across from her at the table. She'd found him, demanding to engage in honorable combat between warriors! His response was, "Can we get coffee first?" Ruby agreed and watched as he sipped from his mug after waiting for to cool.

"Ooh!" He winced. "Still kinda hot."

"Uh..."

"Oh, sorry!" He then handed her a napkin. "I think I forgot to split our share."

"No, you already did." Ruby shook her head. "Besides, there's more important stuff going on here!"

"More important how?"

"I mean like this!" She slapped the wanted poster onto the table, earning a groan from him.

"Not another one." He shook his head. "Can we finish our coffee first?"

"I... I guess?" Ruby shrugged. "But why aren't you all... Y'know, big and scary and trying to mind-break me?"

"...Because I can't?" He asked more than he said. He then took the poster in his massive, clawed hands. Each finger was about the size of a breakfast sausage. "I really wish they would get a new picture. They make me look like a monster in this."

"Aren't you?" Ruby asked.

"Half." He answered. "Well, kinda sorta. You see, my great-great-great-"

Ruby whirled her fingers in a wheel as he rounded off each great in his ancestor's name. She'd heard a lot of tales about monsters and humans and faunus getting together, except for the Grimm, who were mindless beasts of destruction. What usually came from these unions was either monster or human or faunus, but on rare occasions, half-monsters would be born. These creatures were then cast out of the village upon their discovery, usually ending with their own demise. It was sad and cruel, but terribly not uncommon.

"-great-grandma Salem, the mother of all Grimm."

"Wait, I thought Grimm couldn't reproduce."

"They can't, but she can. Or could, since she hasn't had any kids since The Great Tear." Open in dimensions from a huge magical clash, brought monsters into Remnant, new age of war, magic, and adventure for everyone. Ruby knew it well enough from the stories. "Ooh! Still hot." He chuckled, after wincing from another sip of hot coffee.

"Okay, so then why is everyone after you? Half-monsters don't usually have posters, unless they commit a crime."

"Well, I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"He did." Ruby whirled in her seat to find a young woman standing in the doorway to the coffee shop. She stepped in with guards trailing behind her, all heavily armored, while she herself wore an elegant officer's jacket. "Jaune Arc, I am placing you under arrest in the name of the Schnee Dust Queendom."

"What did I do?" Jaune asked.

"Yeah, what did he do?" Ruby asked.

Snapping her fingers, a heavy, white book was brought to her hands. Opening it, the pages fluttered until they landed on a pair of pages with Jaune's name and mugshot on them. Clearing her throat, she began.

"Corrupting the minds of the youth."

"Hey, Mr. Whitley asked me to tutor him!"

"Silence!" She barked, her face growing a bit red. "Seducing a high ranking officer of the Schnee Dust Queendom."

"Your mother was a nice woman! She kissed me first!"

"I said shut up!" Her face grew even more red. "And public indecency while resisting Queendom duties."

"You fired a cannon at me!"

"And stripped yourself bare in an attempt to intimidate us."

"MY CLOTHES WERE BURNED OFF!"

"AND I SAID SHUT UP!" Face completely red, she tossed the book behind her in a fury. "You will surrender yourself at once, Salem's Paladin!"

"Oh, come- I don't even know Salem!" He defended. "I've never even met my great-great-great-great-"

"Great." Ruby groaned. "You got him started again."

"And who are you?"

"Ruby Rose, bounty hunter." She smiled. "Who are you?"

"Queen-Heiress-Apparent Weiss Schnee," she huffed, "and I'm taking this criminal in."

"Nuh-uh."

"What do you mean, 'nuh-uh'?"

"I mean nuh-uh."

"-great-great-great-grandma Salem!"

"Did you add two greats on there?" Ruby asked.

"Enough!" Weiss snarled. "You are both being brought into custody!"

"Aw, really? But couldn't we have... coffee?" Ruby winked at Jaune.

"No, we can't." Weiss answered.

"Jaune!" Ruby whined. "You were supposed to throw coffee on her!"

"Excuse me?!" Weiss screeched.

"Yeah, excuse you?!" Jaune reeled back. "Why would I do that?!"

"Because it'd be totally cool, like in an action comic!" Ruby reasoned.

"But it would hurt her!"

"THAT'S THE POINT!"

"ENOUGH!"

The cafe rumbled as white circles covered the walls and floors. An angry Schnee huffed in and out of her nose as she pulled out her rapier. Behind her, soldiers readied their guns on the two. Ruby glanced to Jaune, who gulped at the sight. Looks like she was going to do this alone.

"Are you sure you don't want coffee? It's really good~!" Ruby sang.

"Oh, please," Weiss rolled her eyes, "do you really think you can throw coffee on me now that I'm aware that's your- ARGH! BIG NICHOLAS FUCK!" She held her face as very, very, very, very, very warm coffee splashed onto her face.

Ruby took the cue and grabbed Jaune. Together, the two weaved through gunfire as yellow and red petals fluttered to the floor. The two had successfully made their escape, and it seemed the soldiers inside were easily distracted, too, as they began barking orders at one another. One of them actually barked like a dog, too, which was weird.

"AFTER THEM!" The barking died as the Schnee roared over them all.

Weiss used a blanket of napkins to wrap around ice dust and held it to her face. One guard remained behind, holding her book. Through her anger, she gave him an order that would turn the world upside down for Ruby and Jaune.

"I want wanted posters in every kingdom," she seethed, "and I want that Demon Couple locked up YESTERDAY!"

[monstersdownthepath]

Herald of Brigh: Latten Mechanism

CR 15

Neutral Large Construct

Adventure Path: Iron Gods: Lords of Rust, pg. 84~85

One of the few Heralds to exist outside of Inner Sea Gods, much like Courage Heart before it, Latten Mechanism* got some serious mileage out of being allowed to stretch across two entire pages, having complete art, lore, a personality, and a kit more complex than most Heralds’! And just LOOK at how adorable that art is! Of course, when you see what it can do to any hostiles it encounters, you may not find it as cute as I do.

*Note: not “The” Latten Mechanism, mind; first name Latten, last name Mechanism, though it’s not opposed to having a “The.” To preserve my sanity, I’ll be shortening it to Latten or Mechanism from here on out unless I feel like being dramatic.

This gigantic machine is a direct creation of Brigh, Goddess of Invention, and dutifully serves her as a siege engine and destroyer of all impediments of mankind’s progress... despite having a personality akin to a loving parent towards more or less every Construct it meets, an a excitable engineer when encountering a mechanism it has never seen before, and an enthusiastic mentor towards any inventor or craftsman it meets. Embodying ALL aspects of Brigh, Latten is also a master engineer, its Master of Crafting and Integrated Crafting Tools allowing it to perform ANY feat of crafting it desires, the former allowing to reallocate its 18 ranks of Craft between any Craft medium(s) it can envision with just 10 minutes of work, the latter allowing it to fabricate masterwork tools for any Craft skill it has without limit or restriction. If speed is needed, it’s got Fabricate at 3/day to cheat on its Craft checks, though it prefers the slow and methodical approach.

But it’s not JUST the act of creation, it’s defending what has already been made. It has several spell-likes which exclusively affect items, structures, and Constructs (such as Make Whole, Rapid Repair, and Unbreakable Construct) to shield its precious “children” and creations from being destroyed, or even harmed. Even further than its spell-likes, Latten has all the abilities of a Lyre of Building, a magic item that can shield all structures within 300ft from all forms of damage for 30 entire minutes AND rapidly craft entirely new structures and pathways as if it were a team of 100 humans working without pause for three entire days... but should it need to, it deals Double Damage Against Objects, an ability which does exactly what you think it does, letting it easily dismantle any device it encounters if that’s what its goddess wills. 

Latten Mechanism is capable of razing or raising entire towns in an hour of work, and all this is before we get to talking about what it can do against player characters directly!

Before we get to its offense, let’s take a look at its defenses first, because the first thing you should check with any Construct is if it can hold its own without crumbling to its component parts with a slight brush. To start off, Latten has DR 10/Adamantine and Magic, except not really; remember Unbreakable Construct? THAT lovely little spell is one it can cast on itself, raising its DR by 5 points to a total of 15. If you don’t have a proper weapon to bypass its reinforced DR, you’re not likely to be outpacing its Fast Healing 10, its body swiftly rebuilding itself right before your very eyes in a manner I think would be fun to watch.

In addition to the standard 26 Spell Resistance possessed by many Heralds, it’s got Cold and Fire Resistance 30 and is outright immune to Acid damage. You would THINK a giant clockwork bug would have the same Vulnerability to Electricity as most Clockwork monsters, but Latten Mechanism has no such weakness. It’s got no resistance to Electricity, mind, but it’s not especially damaged by it, something savvy players may be counting on if they find themselves face-to-faceface with the Herald. Bringing lightning against it might see the bolts bouncing back, in fact, as Latten can cast Lightning Bolt 3/day for a literally shocking bit of ranged burst damage.

That’s not its only ranged attack, and it’s not even the most damaging! Once every 1d4 rounds, the Mechanism can blast a 120ft line with 12d6 Acid OR Electricity damage, showering an area with dramatic bolts or corrosive gas. Able to swap freely back and forth between both damage types, Latten can remove both enemies and obstacles alike, the Electricity damage also giving it unique power against both Clockworks and Robots, two foes it relishes in battling. Not because it enjoys killing “rival” machines, but because it enjoys observing how they function in battle; Latten prefers to not destroy any Construct if it can avoid doing so and especially views killing an intelligent Construct as an unforgivable sin, preferring to incapacitate and reason with them instead. If normal words won’t work, Latten can use Soothe Construct (at-will) or Control Construct (3/day) to pacify such foes once it feels as though it has observed them enough.

Against living or Undead foes, Latten grants quarter only to those who relent first, making it uniquely merciful among the Neutral Heralds. The Mechanism doesn’t attack any creature that stays out of its way, even going as far as to warn anyone nearby that it’s about to muck with the local topography with Move Earth (which it can cast at-will!) or that it’s about to spear straight through a structure like a sapient bulldozer, granting people enough time to get out of its way or evacuate. If they don’t (or can’t), that’s on them. Once it revs its jaws up, whatever its goddess has marked is sure to be destroyed.

Latten Mechanism possesses only one natural attack, but it’s a doozy, dealing 6d8+13 damage PLUS 6d8 Acid or Electricity damage on top of that. Anything struck is in danger of being Grabbed by the mechanical jaws, at which point the mechanisms within the Mechanism’s head sprout out and swiftly grind through the captured foe, dealing an additional 6d8 bludgeoning damage AND 6d8 Acid or Electricity damage. Not breaking the Latten Mechanism’s grapple means taking 12d8+13 + 12d8 Acid/Electricity damage a round (average damage ~130), often enough to shred anything it’s got grabbed... but if it encounters something or someone it either cannot or does not want to chew through, it can instead regurgitate iron cables from its mouth to Entrap any creature it’s grabbed, forcing them to make a DC 19 Fortitude save (which Constructs struggle with) or be entangled for 1d10 rounds, and rendered entirely helpless if they fail a second save before the Entrap wears off.

If you think a monster with only one big attack is less threatening than a lot of little ones, you’re mostly right, but the Mechanism has ways around that. Not only does it have Cleave to hit two people a round with one attack, it can cast both Haste AND Slow 3/day each, the former giving it an additional bite during a Full-Attack, while the latter may mire the party to prevent them from keeping up with its Fast Healing... but the Haste is even more powerful than it first seems, because the Mechanism has an army at its beck and call. Once per day, it can instantly snap four Clockwork Soldiers together from a storage of parts in its body, the machines individually posing little threat to a party, but when working together and supported by the Mechanism’s spell-likes and Entrap, can swiftly dispatch a party whose individual members are far above their own meager CR 6. 

Hey, do you remember Double Damage Against Objects? Do you know what Clockwork Soldiers are really, really good at? Disarming people. And then throwing the weapons they’ve stolen directly into the grinding jaws of the Latten Mechanism, where they’ll take an average of over a hundred damage, likely destroying them utterly even if they’re enchanted adamantine! Hope that wasn’t the only weapon you had that could pierce the Herald’s DR... Also, these Soldiers remain animated for only one hour before collapsing into their component parts, which I assume Latten recycles each time, but the adorable mental image occurs to me of the Herald summoning its soldiers for an engineer to study... and when they collapse, the challenge for that engineer becomes “put them back together perfectly.”

Already this article is so much longer than most! That’s the benefit of getting to grow across two different pages! Which reminds me--the Mechanism is capable of adjusting its size at will, shrinking down to Medium or growing to Huge as it sees fit with a single standard action. In addition to letting it calmly walk around workshops without risking damage to them, this gives it quite the surprise round; what you thought was just a small, amusing clockwork automaton suddenly ballooning in size until it’s tall as a house and biting 40 hitpoints out of you during the surprise round. If you thought being in melee with a critter with a considerable Cleave was bad when its reach was just 10x10, just wait to see how bad it gets at 15x15! And did I mention the Walls of Iron it can call up...?

There’s at least some good news here: so long as the party isn’t threatening some one-of-a-kind miracle machine or trying to set civilization back by a few decades by destroying a revolutionary invention, they’ll probably never be caught in the Latten Mechanism’s warpath. It’s more likely the party will be seeking the Mechanism’s assistance in creating or analyzing some work of artifice; that IS its specialty, after all!

You can read more about it here.