#Monstrous Intent

[typingatlightspeed]

if you're still taking not-smut requests, may i please request some dullahan!solly hanging out with djinni!pyro?

TF2 Fanfic - Accelerant

While some of the team plays ball, Pyro watches and has a think. Soldier joins him, and they talk about Engie's body modifications, Pyro's evolving feelings on them, and the nature of their extreme age gap and lifespan difference. Then they build a potato cannon. They talk a little about Soldier's relationship with Scout, but mostly a bit of mayhem ensues.

Part of Monstrous Intent! Ao3 Link! Rating: Teen (there's like one sex joke lol)

I hope you enjoy, anon! This one stymied me for a bit up to the point where Soldier suggested the potato gun, then the final gag with Soldier's head popped into my brain on the drive home from work, and I was like, "THAT'S IT THAT'S THE GAG" and the rest came naturally. :D

---------

"Yo! Come on, Snipes, I'm open!"

"Bombs away!" Sniper lined up his shot and fired off the football in his hand, launching it for Scout with surprising force moments before Demoman collided with him, tackling him to the dirt.

"Dammit!" Engineer cursed, chasing the pass, knowing there was no way he'd get there in time to intercept, but hoping he could at least bring Scout down before he made any forward progress.

Scout caught the ball easily, eyeing up his options for approach, and took off for the area that had been marked as Engineer and Demoman's goal by setting up a cooler and a particularly large rock and drawing a line in the gravel between with a shovel. He bounded across the desert floor, grinning as Engineer charged for him, intent on bringing him to the ground. With a grunt, he kicked off the ground, vaulting Engineer in one leap, his hoof tapping the shorter man's hard hat and launching him into a second-stage jump, carrying him well past any hope of being caught. He sped into the end zone and spiked the ball, prancing in a circle and pumping his fists to the sky. "Woo! Now that's how it's done! Eat my dust, Hardhat!"

"Damn double-jumpin' jackrabbit," Engineer cursed with a pout. He shot a glare at Demoman, who was now quite busy pinning Sniper to the ground and tickling his neck with his muttonchops. "Dammit, Demo, we're tryin' to play a ballgame, here!"

"Yeah, play games with Snipes' balls off 'a the field, you mook," Scout teased, snatching the ball back up and trotting over.

"D'ye want Scout, then?" Demoman offered to Engineer, sitting up on his knees and letting Sniper wheeze in a breath between diminishing laughs.

"'Least he's tryin' to play the damn game," Engineer reasoned, tossing Scout a look and shaking his head.

"How 'bout we take five, get some water, an' let these two get the giggles out?" Scout asked, jerking his thumb at Demoman and Sniper. "I'll go grab my basketball. Football ain't shit with only four players."

"Yeah, that's fair."

"Sure you'll be good for basketball, Truckie?" Sniper asked, sitting up and shoving Demoman off of himself.

Engineer glared at Sniper, knowing exactly the dig he was about to make. "Stretch, dunks ain't the entire game. Ain't gotta be a giant to sink three-pointers."

"Dibs on Engie," Scout announced immediately. "Robot hand's gotta be an unfair advantage!"

High above, Pyro sat on one of the catwalks above the base, watching his teammates mill around and grab bottles of water from the cooler. He hoped that this wasn't the end of their game. It had been entertaining to watch Scout, Sniper, and Engineer actually trying while Demoman was intent on turning it into a game of grab-ass rather than actual sport. All the same he giggled watching the bomber pull his lover into a kiss before being swatted with his hat playfully and having water dumped on his head. As Scout trotted inside, Engineer unclipped his overalls to remove his work shirt, fanning himself. He cracked open his water and poured a little on himself before taking a swig, looking up in surprise upon hearing Pyro whistle from above. He grinned upon seeing him wave from the catwalk, and waved back.

The distant burst and whoosh of an explosion caught Pyro's attention from behind, and he turned to see Soldier sailing up into the air, fresh off a rocket jump. He nearly overshot the catwalk, landing at first on the railing before turning on his toe and hopping down far more nimbly than expected of a man his size.

Pyro half-turned, waving to him. "Hey Soldier!"

"Hello Pyro!" Soldier greeted brightly. He set his launcher down against the railing and ambled over to sit down beside Pyro, letting his legs dangle off the catwalk and kicking his feet idly. "What are you up to?"

"Hanging out. Thinking, mostly."

"What about?"

Pyro looked down at Engineer, who had clipped his overalls back into place and was currently holding the basketball as Scout stripped his shirt off, the two of them clearly taking team Skins for their little two on two game. They headed over to where their makeshift hoop of a bottomless milk crate nailed to a board had been hung on the edge of the porch overlooking a concrete paddock and set up to play. "Engie, mostly," he replied, a sigh in his voice.

"He is pretty dreamy. You should ask him out," Soldier teased.

Pyro snorted a laugh at that. "I dunno, I think he might be out of my league. You know the guy's got eleven PhDs?"

Soldier frowned. "Sounds fake." Another snorting laugh rewarded him, making his grin return immediately. "So what's Engie got you thinking about?" he asked, turning his gaze down to the game below.

"Ah, he's working on a new 'upgrade' to his body. A new spine. First stage of a full endoskeletal conversion project, so he says."

Soldier looked to Pyro and stared blankly.

"He's gonna replace all of his bones with metal ones eventually," Pyro explained.

"That botherin' you still?" "A little," Pyro admitted. "A lot less than before, though. I understand a lot more about his prosthetics, how they work, why I don't see the glamour in them like I do other things he builds. They're really clever, actually! In addition to making it so they obey his commands by a mix of reading muscle impulses and magical will-working, they're powered basically by pulling ambient magic out of the air, which is a completely sustainable fuel source. The Conaghers have been doing magic artifice for generations without even realizing it, because they've been accidentally blending magic into their technology. It's why nobody's been able to replicate their designs. The Australium is the key resource that makes it all come together, with its arcanoconductivity."

Soldier picked at his ear with his pinky finger, about half of what Pyro was saying flying directly over his head to go crash and burn somewhere in the desert. "So what's the problem?"

"I dunno, I guess I still have a lot of trouble getting past the fact that he's removing perfectly good flesh and bone for this, taking himself apart, you know?"

"Doc adds and removes stuff from us all the time," Soldier pointed out, lifting a finger into the air in an imitation of the doctor's mannerisms.

"Yeah, but at least it's usually internal so I don't notice."

"So are a spine and bones."

"But his entire legs and hand weren't. And once he finishes with bones, you can guarantee he's gonna work outward from there."

"Fair." Soldier let out a long breath through his nose, his brain churning. "Hadn't Engie been complaining about his back for as long as we've known him?"

"He does do a lot of lifting."

"Worn out, busted."

"Doesn't sleep great some nights."

"Can't sit too long."

"Practically eats aspirin."

"Ice packs."

"Heat packs."

"The way he smells like tiger balm after a real long match."

"He's strong as an ox, but he's in his mid-forties," Pyro sighed.

"It's not really perfectly good flesh and bone then, huh?"

"Guess you're right." Pyro leaned his forehead against the railing, flames creeping around the metal bar a bit. "He's in a lot of pain a lot of the time. This'd actually fix a problem rather than just do it for the sake of doing it, huh?"

"What's more practical than replacing the busted part?"

"You sound like Engie," Pyro chuckled.

"All I'm saying is that from what I've been told by people I've outlived is that the average red-blooded American man expects to just barely get past seventy years if he doesn't give his life in glorious battle first. Engie's more than halfway through that. He's probably trying to make himself last as long as he can. After all, he doesn't have the luxury of already being dead, like me!" Soldier jerked a thumb at himself with a grin.

Pyro chuckled and shook his head. Soldier was too good at making a solid point when he wanted to be. All the same, he didn't like being reminded about how short the rest of Engineer's life would be. "I'm ageless, eternal," he sighed, his eyes following Engineer's movements as he juked Demoman right off of his feet and sunk a two-pointer with ease. "I'm gonna outlive him. Just like I outlive everyone."

"How many human partners have you buried?"

"Too many. I don't know if I can do it again. But I know I'll have to."

Soldier hated to see his friend wilt like this, pain written clearly across his flaming face. "Maybe that's something Engie can prevent? He's smart enough."

"Short of becoming something supernatural, no human has, Soldier."

"You said it yourself that his cyber-stuff is basically magic, right? Maybe he'll build himself a new body that'll never grow old or break down so long as he keeps fixing it up! With the strength of five gorillas, and an ass that physically cannot quit!"

Pyro barked a laugh at that, his giggles fading into a soft hum. "Maybe so. Guess it's time we have that conversation, huh?"

"You haven't talked about all that?" "Not so much, no. It's not exactly fun to think about it."

"Got me there."

The sounds of Scout shit-talking Sniper's terrible free throw filled the silence.

Soldier looked back to Pyro again. "You wanna make a potato cannon?"

Pyro looked at him with all of the severity of a man about to realize his life's calling. "Hell yeah I do."

*

The bay door to Engineer's workshop rolled up, the sunlight momentarily blinding for Pyro and Soldier as they stepped out of the base. Soldier held a large plastic tube in his arms. It was long, and about an inch and a half diameter until it reached a connector after about two feet, and attached to a piece that was about three inches in diameter for its final foot.

"I'm surprised we didn't need to steal more from Engie."

"PVC pipe, connector, PVC cement to glue it all together, pipe cap, and a quick visit to the drill press, no problem," Pyro chuckled, shaking up a can of hair spray, a sack of potatoes firmly grasped in his other hand.

"Why did you have hairspray in your quarters, anyway?"

Pyro stared blankly at him like he'd asked the stupidest question in the world. He held out one finger, a soft glow heralding a small mote of flame springing to life at its tip. Without interrupting eye contact for even a moment, he held it up to the spray can and pressed down, the spray making the little fire into a gout of flame.

Soldier grinned. "Let's see if we can hit the Sword Van from here with it."

They set up on the edge of the paddock that led to the bay door, kneeling down and setting out their meager supplies. Pyro handed Soldier a potato, which he stuffed partway into the narrow barrel of the gun and tamped it onto the concrete to mash it in, the pipe shaving off any of the spud that didn't fit inside.

"Hey Soldier," Pyro began, popping the cap off of the hairspray can. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Okay."

"Where did you go that one furlough when we had that party at Engie's place?"

Soldier frowned, laying the potato cannon over his shoulder like a rocket launcher.

"If you don't want to—"

"I went to go see Ta—," he cleared his throat, "The RED Demoman."

Pyro pulled the cap off of the back end of the wide combustion chamber of the cannon. "I thought things were over between you two."

"It is. It was. Maybe. I dunno. We screwed. Almost felt like old times. But... he figured me out."

"What do you mean?"

"He guessed I wasn't human."

"Oh."

"I'd been afraid of that since day one. He didn't try to kill me on the spot, so it went better than expected, but not by much."

"I'm sorry, Sol."

"Don't be. Made me do some thinking for once. Realize what's important to me, and what I had right in front of me this whole time."

"Scout?"

Soldier smiled softly. "Yeah." He steadied his grip. "Light 'er up!"

With a nod, Pyro sprayed the hairspray into the combustion chamber and plugged it, then snapped his fingers to summon a spark inside, lighting the aerosol. With a soft kick and a THOOMP, the potato rocketed out of the pipe and streaked across the yard and parking lot, slamming into the side of the team's getaway van, bouncing off with a satisfying PWANG. Soldier and Pyro both whooped a laugh and high-fived.

"Reloading!" Soldier called, grabbing another potato and stuffing it into the pipe. He shouldered the cannon once again for Pyro to prep.

"You and Scout doing good, then?"

"Yes! He is not afraid of or disgusted by the fact that I am dead and can remove my head. Now that I have this collar," he flicked the metal ring that hung from the front of his Cephalophore's Collar, "he likes it even more. Mostly because I can screw him and blow him at the same time."

"Priorities," Pyro chuckled, uncapping the cannon.

"He's fun, and sweet, and gets that a fist fight can be a way to say I love you if you're both laughing when you do it. He makes me feel light inside. He makes me feel important. And wanted. And I don't have to hide anything."

"You don't realize how important that last part really is until you finally have it," Pyro mused. "I get it." He shook up the hairspray and sprayed it into the chamber.

"Yeah."

Pyro plugged the chamber. "Fire in the hole!" With a snap, a spark lit and with another THOOMP the potato was sent screaming across the lot to graze a different spot on the van with a WHUNG. "Haha, nice!"

"We should shoot something else."

"Sure, but what?"

Soldier rooted around in the bag for another potato and withdrew a wrinkled, soft one that was weeping liquid that smelled utterly vile. He recoiled for a moment before a wicked grin crossed his teeth. "I have an idea."

"I'm open! I'm open!" Scout hollered, waving his arms in the air.

Engineer craned around Sniper, who was doing his best to stay in his way and block the pass. He cast a look around, noticed one of the support beams of the porch, and grinned. "Port side, son!" He ducked under Sniper's armpit and shot the ball at the beam, bouncing it off and right into Scout's waiting hands. He drove for the hoop, leaping out of Demoman's grasp with ease for the dunk...

And was shot out of the air when a rotten potato slammed into his solar plexus.

Scout folded in on himself as he hurtled to the ground, landing in a heap, the ball forgotten. The stench of rotten potato filled his nose, and he had to fight the urge to gag as he gasped and tried to regain his breath, a sharp throb of pain sparking through his chest and belly. He wheezed, clawing at the ground, the noisome smell filling his senses and making his bile threaten to rise as he writhed.

Sniper's head whipped in the direction from whence it came, and he squinted, making out the shapes of Pyro and Soldier in the parking lot, rolling on the ground laughing. "Oi, you cunts! What's the big idea?!"

Pyro climbed to his knees and cupped his hands around his mouth to holler. "He okay?!"

"He smells bloody awful!" Demoman called back, trotting over to help the fallen faun to his hooves, dodging chunks of potato as he scrubbed it off of his chest, succeeding only in mashing it into his hand wraps.

"Oh, I'm okay alright," Scout growled, then spit on the ground. When he saw Soldier he grinned. "They ain't, though!"

"Hey, Sol?" Pyro said, shaking Soldier, who was still laying on the pavement, shaking off giggles. "Sol. Sol, he's coming."

"Who's coming?"

"Scout's coming and he does not look like it's in peace."

Soldier rolled up into grinned broadly, throwing his arms wide. "How you like that mashed potato, Private?!"

"Ohhhh brother you're in for it now," Scout growled, diving at Soldier and sending the two of them tumbling out of the lot and into the dirt, fists flying, legs kicking, throwing up a cloud of dust as they brawled like it was an old cartoon.

Pyro set the hairspray down and quickly sidled out of sight and back into the base.

It was a few minutes before Sniper spotted Scout returning with a bloody nose and a cut above his eyebrow, something clutched in his arms. "What in the hell is he carryin'?"

Scout saw them watching him and tucked the object under one arm, lowering himself and charging back onto their makeshift court with speed. "Yo Snipes, alley-oop!" he yelled, double-jumping over the assassin and finally making that dunk, hanging from the milk crate basket for a moment before dropping to his hooves victoriously.

Everyone looked at what he'd dunked. Soldier's detached head, with a black eye and a fat lip, grinned up at them. "Hello! I am a basketball!"

Demoman threw an arm around Sniper and gently slugged him in the side. "See? Told ye we're nae the weirdest couple on base by a longshot."

[flowercrowngods]

something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind. 

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually. 

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch. 

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. 

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset. 

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up. 

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?” 

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him. 

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now. 

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom. 

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now. 

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now. 

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic." 

No. 

"You know you are." 

Shut up. Go away. 

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way. 

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him. 

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always. 

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore. 

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck. 

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice. 

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

—— 

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes. 

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up. 

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes. 

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open. 

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched. 

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again. 

 “Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it. 

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers. 

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking. 

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening. 

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling. 

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?” 

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…” 

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already. 

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch. 

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently. 

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual. 

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness. 

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two. 

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move. 

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.” 

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either. 

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room. 

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next. 

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be. 

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons. 

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not. 

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room. 

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?" 

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods. 

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand. 

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?" 

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe. 

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand. 

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night. 

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation. 

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself. 

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay. 

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too. 

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough. 

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety. 

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?" 

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time. 

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?" 

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours. 

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

[sketching-shark]

Sketchy sketchy of Sun Wukong, starring a glimpse of his war form in the background.

[sysig]

You’re gonna die if you keep that up (Patreon)

[yloiseconeillants]

lightwarden thoughts are back on the menu so like. here's mothwarden - aletheia. it's playing so hard into the narrative of the warrior of darkness spun by two rival wizards that that's all that's left in the end. just a cracking shell of mythologized heroism holding back something cruel and resentful.

there's a playlist!

[mostremote]

We Wild Creatures spoiler teasers~

[ascendantcomic-blog]

- VIOLENCE MACHINE -

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

238. The Children (2008)

[serialreblogger]

fun fact! did u know the batman villain "mad hatter" is a villain because he has an intersex condition, and taking testosterone shots "permanently damaged his mental stability" making him psychotic and therefore evil?

comic books are great bc i can't think of a quicker summary of how queerness, intersex, neurodivergence, drug use & disability are all lumped together in a world that wants us dead

[synthetic-sonata]

the mr grizz we never had but always deserved

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Ben Reilly: Scarlet Spider (Vol. 1/2017), #8.

Writer: Peter David; Penciler and Inker: William Sliney; Colorists: Jason Keith and Andrew Crossley; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[pourablecat]

Miscellaneous pencil doodles

Found a 2B pencil and had some fun: my nerves are strung up so high lately...

#1: Igorina, stitching on that scalp. Came from long, painful memories of trying to gel individual hairs onto my scalp away from my neck when I was supposed to scrape everything into a clean, mess-less ballerina bun. You ever see people do that? How do you manage it? Kudos to all Igor(ina)s, and also our beloved Reg Shoe, I love imagining them repairing themselves with needle and thread in their spare time, I dunno, seems weirdly peaceful

#2: This came from my personal headcanon that Vetinari's "Si non confectus, non reficiat" motto applies to the Patrician's Palace. Hence, he never got around to fixing all the holes left in the corridors or whatnot by the dragon, and when winter comes the dirty snow blows in and leaves terrible moldy patches (he also insists in sleeping in his old room, the one the dragon blasted a hole in. Y'know, the several-floor drop to the main hall hole?)

#3: Sam Jr., sleepy... which I am too, by the way. Just a moment and Da will pack everything up and come read Where's my Cow? I know my last Sybil isn't black, but none of my character designs are solid at all. In fact, this was supposed to be a Sybil sketch before I realized it was running in entirely the wrong direction! Says a lot about how I draw.

[monstrousproductions]

Half–joking I meant half–joking I swear I wasn’t offering the second thing.

thats fine i didnt want ur delicious jollof rice anyhow 😭

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hi Quil I just finished the wings au and oh my goodness that was amazing!!!!!!! I loved the way you wrapped up the story and how you created suspense! I also loved how the characters interacted and became like family and even joking with each other like in chapter 41 when they're breaking into the facility: “What’s on your mind, Foster?”

“Pockets.”

“We seriously need to get you some real hobbies.”

I also loved the mystery with where the monsters came from and the half-elves and the acceptance of the monsters for who they are!

Also I loved the communication and how there where misunderstandings but they talked about and forgave each other like Marella with Sophie and Sophie, Edaline, and Grady

This was amazing and I can't wait to read more of you're writing!! I hope you have a good day!

Nonsie! Hello! Oh I'm thrilled you enjoyed it, everyone's been very kind about it but I'm still always waiting with baited breath whenever anyone reads it like...do you like it? What are your thoughts? Is it good?

it was so fun and so strange to writing the ending because i'd spent so much time working on the au and then all of the sudden...the story was done. Well, the part of the story I'm telling at least. Stories are more than the words we see, after all, more than the snippets we experience. They're never really over.

But it was also weird because the ending wasn't what I'd expected it to be. I've known very vaguely what the ending was going to be from the very beginning, but as the story grew everything developed alongside it. And as I got to writing the end and I was following what the story became, I was sitting there like "hey this wasn't what i planned."

My original vague idea was that the kotlcrew would return to the main facility to fight the monsters with the aid of their own monsters they'd learned to live beside. But the story outgrew that and it was like...the monsters aren't the villains of this story. They had a whole arc learning that, why would I undo it now? They're not who the kotlcrew need to fight or who they're focused on. And there's no difference between the monsters in the facility and the monsters they live with; it would be hypocritical for their final bad guy to be monsters when a big part of the story is loving monsters.

But back to your ask! That pockets moment was endearing I just had to include it. Sure, they're about to embark on the Big Final Mission of their story but also they're kids! And they all love each other! And they like to joke around! And Sophie wants more pockets!

Another thing that comes to mind when you bring up that moment is Sophie's "Jeepers creepers" moment. Which isn't really in-character but was just such a bizarre thing that popped into my head I had to include it. It makes me laugh every time I see it. I was sitting there like hmm. She's surprised. She's gonna exclaim something. What do you say when you're startled? And for some reason that's what I thought of, so now she says it.

Also depending on what part of the monster mystery you're talking about, I might be able to clear that up! Do you mean where they came from overall? Or specifically in the last chapter? Because I do know both those things! I might not have made it too clear, but if you have questions I am always open to hearing them and answering!

And the acceptance of monsters!! From the very beginning that was going to be one of the focuses of the au so it's been a delight to follow through on that! I happen to love monsters a whole lot, if that wasn't made clear by the 350k word au I wrote about them.

yes! communication! In the au everyone is much closer and more like a big family than in canon (because I wanted them to be) so it was so satisfying to be able to write them with that kind of closeness and really talk to each other in impactful ways. It doesn't mean everything's perfect, but they're all trying. Miscommunication is one of my least favorite things in the whole entire world, so I loved writing them the way I ended up doing so

Thank you for the compliments and reading the au! I love hearing what people think, so I really appreciate this. And now I can do more projects and explore other things! If you want more writing, then you may be excited to learn I've got several more dialogue prompts to go so there will be many more words to share!

I hope you have a good day as well, Nonsie! I know your ask certainly brightened mine :)

[theskeletonprior]

There is something so beautiful about reaching out to the monstrous with intent to touch it gently. To risk the sharp teeth and the lethal claws, to defy fear and revulsion, and choose to be delicate with something that can be, and often is, incredibly brutal.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.