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whoopsyeahokay · 6 months

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October Sun

summary: the ability had manifested after your first semester of 7th grade. after the farmhouse cellar and the trail through the woods. after the EMTs and the policemen and Then Deputy Baxter. it was something you kept to yourself although you knew your mother had her suspicions. it made you more vulnerable to the things that go bump in the night, which was why you never used it. or so you thought.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.9

The pulse between you and Wally flared to a fever pitch, swirling and cresting around you, into you, through you. One hand in your hair, fingers kneading; the other secure on your hip, supporting you firmly in his arms.

You wanted to bask in it forever, an intoxicating maelstrom of sensation, and all at once every pop ballad you'd heard growing up made sense. The kiss deepened and shallowed; a swipe of his tongue, twin gasps, a moan, then back in, hungry and untethered.

Wally placed you on the edge of the stage, careful, like a totem at an altar, his lips never leaving yours for more than a breath. He stood between your thighs, big hands roaming down your arms to your waist, hips, up again, fingers teasing under the hem of your t-shirt.

Gradually, the feeling of hot need now lessened, though didn't dissipate completely. Rather, it softened into something contented, manageable. Satisfied now that you and Wally were tangled in each other's space.

Thoughts filtered in through the thinning cloud; questions you had to ask; admissions you had to give, so you put a stalling hand on Wally's chest and nudged gently.

"Wait," You said, and now you knew what you sounded like after being ravished to oblivion, wow. "We need to talk."

Wally blinked his eyes open, sweet brown almost entirely eclipsed by arousal. His lips, kiss-plumped and red, turned up in a smile you couldn't help but mirror.

Even though you'd shunned reason and responsibility—had gone against a lifetime of rules and shared yourself with a ghost—you felt at peace for the first time in days.

"What's up, baby?" Wally asked, pressing his forehead to yours. He took your hands in his, fingers laced, and waited for you to speak. But as you were about to, a lightbulb seemed to blink on in his head and he straightened. "Hold up," his voice dropped to a panicked whisper. "If you don't want anyone else to know, we should get out of here or Mina—"

"Is on lunch—" you air quoted, "—for another thirty minutes. She goes twice a day, sits outside the door, eats the same ham and cheese her mom packed her, and smokes the same cigarette she stole off Miranda Paterson before rehearsal."

Wally gaped, "I~ did not know that." Then he frowned cutely, "How do you know that?"

"My mom." You admitted, "She graduated the same year Mina died and warned me about it before I started here. She actually witnessed Mina's first loop." You grimaced, "The benefits of a residual haunting, I guess."

"Residual haunting?"

As you spoke, you crossed your ankles at the small of Wally's back and guided him back to you, "Basically, the worst kind of loop the dead can get stuck in." A peck to his lips, "At least, in my opinion."

"You know a lot about this stuff, huh?" He asked through quick, dry kisses of his own, grinning smugly when you chased his mouth as he leaned away.

You blushed and licked your lips, watched in fascination as Wally tracked the movement before doing the same. He squeezed the curve of your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, pulled you roughly against him, and nipped your lower lip.

"Tease," He said, rolling his hips against you so you could feel how worked up he was.

You moaned, the pulse flaring again, brief and bright, and oh hell no, you had to talk. Hoping to temper the connection back to a simmering second thought, you decided to answer Wally's question.

"My family has a long and unique history with the paranormal. According to my Nanna, we can trace it all the way back to the Arthurian Age." You punctuated your statement with a lingering kiss, separating on a sigh. "You make it really hard to concentrate."

You felt kind of dumb admitting that aloud and were relieved when Wally snickered, "Back at you, baby."

He stroked the back of his pointer finger down your cheek, gazing at you as if in worship. It was heady being on the receiving end of such a look, and you hoped he saw in your eyes equal awe and appreciation.

"How about we just—" He took a step backward, out of your space, and instantly the connection between you protested.

You whimpered, a grouchy kitten of a sound, and he reinserted himself between your legs, hands smoothing up your thighs to your hips where they rested.

"Or not." He said. After a lengthy pause, he asked, "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Nope. And we have a pretty specific collection of books at home. I couldn't find anything that talks about what this—" You indicated between you and him, "—might be. I'm praying that there'll at least be something there about why I can't see Maddie." You hadn't meant to divulge that tidbit so casually, but there it was.

Wally was visibly shocked, "Hold up, you can't see Maddie?" You shook your head, "So. At the bus stop yesterday, you really had no idea she was there?"

Holy shit, "Maddie was there?!"

Not all ghosts were visible, true, but every ghost had an assortment of ways to signal their presence. And you hadn't received any of them. No niggling thoughts in the back of your mind or strange prickles up your spine or high-pitched ringing in your ears. Zero, zip, zilch, nada.

"Yeah, she followed you and, uh, What's His Name—"

"Simon." You supplied, distracted.

"Him, yeah. She followed you guys out there. Wanted to see if you knew something about what happened to her."

Casting your mind back to yesterday's conversation, you tried to recall if Simon mentioned anything worthwhile. Except, he hadn't wanted to talk about Maddie. Not initially, not until you brought her up. Simon had wanted to talk about, "Whether or not I can see ghosts..." You glanced up at Wally. "That can't be coincidence. What if Simon's like me and he just can't see Maddie, either?"

Wally gave you a sympathetic look, "Trust me, that guy can't see ghosts."

"And how would you know that?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I've been here for a while, pretty girl." For some reason, that fact made your heart ache, "You're the second person with a pulse I've seen who I ever thought might be able to see me back."

"Second?"

Wally stared at you, long and hard, as if anticipating the pieces would slot into place. When they didn't, he helped you along, "You don't really look like her, you know?"

"Ah, yeah, obviously." Your mother, who had been a freshman at Wally's final Homecoming game. Your eyes narrowed, "How do you know it was my mom?"

"Back then, I didn't. But, after what you mentioned, it doesn't take a genius." Wally chuckled. "She never talked to me. And I never felt like this with her." He emphasized his point by delivering a bruising, heated kiss, parting with a wet-sticky smack.

Dazed, "Yeah, pretty sure that's something she'd lecture me about if it happened before. At least we can rule out that it's a 'you thing'."

"Cool, so it's not me. What about you?" Wally said, expression calculating, "What's changed?"

You cocked your head, "What do you mean?"

This time, Wally kissed you softly before he said, "Babe, you've managed to ignore me for three years because neither of us felt desperate to climb into each other's skin. So...why now?"

He was right.

You were a little impressed and a lot turned on. Wally had always come across to you as a bit of a stereotypical jock: somewhat slow on the uptake, but well-meaning and full of heart. And muscle. And you shut that thought down right there before your mind wandered again.

It made you consider that, while there was this intense, driving connection between you both, you didn't really know Wally Clark that well at all. Yes, you'd observed Wally from afar for the duration of your high school career, but up until yesterday, you'd never spoken, never revealed personal secrets or interests or anything.

As far as you were aware, he liked football and football-related things, and you were pretty sure he had an equally shallow idea of what made you tick aside from being able to see dead people.

Saddened by the realization, you blurted, "What's your favorite color?"

Wally seemed adorably rightly confused, "What?"

You repeated, "Your favorite color, what is it?"

"Um, red. What's yours?"

"Purple." Some days. "Or dark orange." Sounded more accurate, but actually, "Mostly green, but not, like, neon or anything."

Wally pressed his lips together, suppressing a goofy smile for a couple of seconds before surrendering it. "That answer totally suits you." He bussed you on the nose, making you go cross-eyed for a moment, "Do colors mean something?"

"No," You shook your head lightly, twinkling, "I just thought we should probably get to know each other better if we're gonna be under the influence of random hedonist ghost energy."

"Do you think that's what's making your powers go on the fritz?" Wally wondered, his phrasing punching a laugh out of you.

"Nah, it's not as simple as a glitch in the Matrix. This shit doesn't get glitchy."

Taking him by the wrists, you led his hands behind you so that you were more fully encased in his arms, tucking your head under his chin and circling your arms loosely around his waist. You felt safe, wrapped up in him like that. Like nothing bad could or would ever happen to you again.

"Okay..." He said, picking through what information you'd given him so far. "If your ghost powers are working and it's not because of whatever's going on with us, maybe it's Maddie? Maybe you can't see her because she's new? She hasn't been dead as long as the rest of us, only since last Friday..."

"Uhm, yeah, also not how this works." You replied playfully, bumping the tip of your nose to his, "Trust me, it takes four minutes before a person goes from attached to their earthen vessel to haunting the science lab."

A wicked, ruthless moment for everyone involved.

The scar on your left hand itched, reminding you of the nightmare that had hauled you in and coughed you out of that farmhouse cellar. Where you'd discovered—down to the second—how long it takes a soul to disconnect from the living world and cross over.

You groaned, "Maddie can't be dead." A hill you would proudly die on because that was the only explanation that made any kind of sense.

Wally wasn't convinced, "She seems pretty dead to me. I can see her. Rhonda, and Charley, and the others can see her. No one else can."

Feeling like a parrot, you repeated, "And I can't. What if...What if she isn't dead? What if she's trapped?"

"You mean more trapped than the rest of us?"

The statement inspired a whole host of questions that you forced yourself to ignore for the time being.

"This is gonna sound insane—"

"You're literally talking to a ghost."

"Insane-er," You amended, "But Maddie could've slipped into an In Between somehow." You barely had an argument, the list of hypotheticals dismal against what knowledge you'd collected from various factual sources, but you weren't willing to let it go. "Look, death is a very direct journey from one plane to the next, no detours. But if she isn't dead, then it could be possible."

Wally's eyes seemed to be trailing an onslaught of thoughts as they traveled across his mind. "Okay, yeah, you're right, that sounds insane. What the hell is an In Between?"

"It's—" A distant metallic snap-shudder pierced the otherwise quiet theater, interrupting you. Before you were able to discern where it had come from, you felt a hand grab your shoulder from behind.

You gasped, knocked back into yourself, and when you looked up, you saw Wally in a state of bewilderment, standing with his mouth agape and eyes the size of dinner plates, at the end of the center aisle that's length now divided you.

A familiar, though markedly less friendly, voice demanded, "What are you doing in here?" and when you glanced over your shoulder, Mr. Anderson stared, hard and haggard, awaiting your explanation.

💀___________________________

PART EIGHT - PART TEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #October Sun

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saturnsorbits · 1 year

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Don't Ask, Don't Get

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Talk of Losing Virginity, Virgin!Reader, FuckBoy!Kirishima-ish, Suggestive, Teasing, Word Count: 1.1k.

Summary: Kirishima has a reputation. You still have your virginity. How about that, huh?

A/N: Did I finally write something after all this time? Yes. Is it also mostly unfinished and very short? Also, yes. Will there be a part two? Maybe.

The clock on the wall ticks. It's an ugly thing, gimmicky, with thick, oddly carved arms poking out from either side. For a moment you just watch it, listening to the rhythmic beat of its arms as they shift counting down one minute, then two. You squint. It's ten minutes early, like someone has deliberately set the time to induce a constant state of minor panic.

Which is, from where you're sitting, pretty damn unneeded.

Perched on the edge of the bed, you feel pretty out of place amongst the scattered dumbbell weights and hanging medals. It's to be expected, of course. After all, this isn't your room and it's certainly not your bed.

No.

It's the bed of a boy.

And, not just any boy...

Kirishima Eijirou leaves the bathroom encased in a thick layer of steam. His hair is wet, having just showered, and down, it's ends tickling the tanned skin of his shoulders. The towel around his waist is tied poorly, dipping so low on his hips that the start of his dense thicket of pubic hair is clearly visible. He rakes a hand through his hair causing the muscle of his bicep to tense and the meat of his pec to stretch and jiggle.

It makes your stomach feel funny.

'So...' Flashing his signature bright smile, he digs a hand into the curve of his hip drawing your eye to the defined dips there. 'What did you want to talk about?'

I…’ You clear the dryness from your throat. ‘I was talking to Mina.’

‘Oh no.’ Kirishima grins. His eyebrows arc playfully on his forehead.

His mood is infectious and you find yourself sharing his smile; you’re not sure you’d be able to resist it if you tried. There’s something about him that makes you feel at ease, allowing you to sink deeper into his mattress as a girlish chuckle slips from your lips. ‘She…’ You swallow. ‘Well, we were talking and -.’

Kirishima rolls his shoulders, causing his still wet skin to shine softly in the light.

The motion steals your thoughts and ruins your confidence. ‘She said she knew you in middle school…’ You cringe. It’s not a lie. That was how the conversation had started after all. How it had ended, however and the reason you’d found yourself in Kirishima’s room at almost midnight on a Tuesday in your only pair of fancy, matching underwear… Was a different matter entirely.

If he notices the sudden, awkward detour in the conversation, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he laughs. A full bodied rumble vibrates through his chest, eliciting a chuckle that is half-kitten, half-avalanche. ‘Yeah. I was - uh - I was pretty different back then.’

You know. You’ve seen pictures on Mina’s phone. Back then, Kirishima had been small, with a mop of black hair and a smile that never saw the light. It’s a far cry from who he is now… Big, bright and boisterous. 'Yeah...'

'Did you and Mina talk about anything else?' He cocks an eyebrow, his large palms digging into the flesh of his hips.

'Yeah, we... We -.' You can feel his gaze on you, gentle and piercing all at once, but he doesn't force you to talk. Instead, he waits, patient, with that smile on his face that makes you want to know what it would be like to sit on it.

There's a sparkle in his eyes when he licks over his lower lip and rumbles. 'C'mon, you know you can just ask, right?'

All of the embarrassment in your body flames in your face. You can feel it bubbling there, threatening to make you do something stupid as you look up at the boy with a too bright smile and a cock that you've been promised will ruin you. 'I -.'

Taking a measured step forward, Kirishima leaves barely an inch between your knees. His smile is still blinding, but now, there's something new wedged in-between his teeth. 'You know...' Nudging at your knee with his, he encourages open your legs and steps between them. 'Mina and I have known each other forever.' Reaching down, he hooks a finger underneath your chin and presses his thumb to the bump of your lower lip. 'We talk too.'

A shiver breaks out down your spine making you feel too hot and too cold all at once. The hold he has on your face, although gentle, feels like a choke hold. The pads of his fingers calloused, keeping you easily at his mercy. 'I -.'

'So, just ask.'

His new proximity makes you dizzy as one million and on thoughts are sent speeding through your head at once. It's hard to think, hard to comprehend anything that isn't the rough of Kirishima's hand and the purr of his voice as he looks down on you sweetly, waiting with a patience you'd thought impossible. Swallowing, you loosen your tongue, but what leaps from your mouth is far from the question you'd wanted to ask. 'I'm a virgin.'

'Yeah?'

The bright sparkling you'd mistaken for curiosity has returned to his eyes, but now, there's something else laced within their red seas. It makes your chest tight and your pulse sink, migrating lower than you've ever felt it before. Instead of answering, you nod.

'Do you think that bothers me, sweetheart?' He coos. The hand curled under your chin tips, forcing your face further up. From this position, there's no avoiding his eye, forcing you to gaze right at him as he smirks.

A whine breaks through the seam of your lips, surprising even you as you feel yourself beginning to slip. You've never felt like this, both helpless and secure at the same time, but the way his eyes seem to glow when he looks at you has you treading air. He hasn't even touched you yet.

His eyes burn dark, hungry, as he lets his gaze slip down your body. A cool smirk itches at the side of his mouth, pulling his lip just enough to expose the ends of sharp teeth. As if reading your thoughts, Kirishima taps his thumb against your lip. Leaning down, he closes in until he can feel the soft pants of your breath fan against his cheeks.

'Because it doesn't.'

You squeak. His cheeks have warmed, giving his boyish charm an added highlight as the vulgarity slips easily from his tongue. It contrasts with the sweetness still lingering in his smile, promising so much more than his boyish charm.

'Use your words... C'mon, tell me what you want.'

'I...' You swallow. Between the heat already building in your stomach and the embarrassment coiled low, you're tongue tied, but you know you're not going to get what you want without asking for it – he's made that more than clear. 'I... I - want you to fuck me...'

He chuckles, tilting his head. 'Yeah?..'

You fidget in the space he leaves. 'Please?'

'Oh.' Kirishima's eyes blow wide, a wicked smile pulling at the edge of his lip. 'Look at you using your manners...' He licks at his teeth. 'I think we're going to have a lot of fun, Sweetheart.'

-> Masterlist

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #mha x reader #kiri x reader #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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workersolidarity · 1 year

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🇮🇱🇵🇸 💥ISRAELI MILITARY REPEATEDLY USING WHITE PHOSPHORUS ON DENSELY POPULATED GAZA AND LEBANON

Israel's use of White Phosphorus in military operations in densely populated Gaza and Lebanon puts civilians at risk of serious and long-term injuries according to a new Human Rights Watch report on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

White Phosphorus is a munition that uses an allotrope of the chemical element phosphorus to create a smoke, illumination or incindiary effect. White Phosphorus burns upon contact with air and reaches temperatures of 800°C [1'472°F].

White Phosphorus can often cause severe burns and injuries which can than absorb the phosphorus, leading to organ failure.

White Phosphorus can be used for marking, signaling, obscuring, or as an incindiary weapon to set fires that burn incredibly hot, devouring soldiers, equipment, and civilians alike.

"Any time that white phosphorus is used in crowded civilian areas, it poses a high risk of excruciating burns and lifelong suffering,” said Lama Fakih, Middle East and North Africa director at Human Rights Watch. “White phosphorous is unlawfully indiscriminate when airburst in populated urban areas, where it can burn down houses and cause egregious harm to civilians.”

Human Rights Watch verified videos taken in Lebanon and Gaza on October 10 and 11, 2023, respectively, showing multiple airbursts of artillery-fired white phosphorus over the Gaza City port and two rural locations along the Israel-Lebanon border, and interviewed two people who described an attack in Gaza.

Human Rights Watch spoke to the people who were from the Al-Mina sector of Gaza City who described "observing strikes consistent with the use of white phosphorus."

Both witnesses, who were in the street and an office building at the time, described seeing air strikes with explosions in the sky, followed by white lines falling to the Earth. The attacks took place some time between 11:30pm and 1am local time.

Both witnesses told Human Rights Watch the smell was strong and stifling and led one of the witnesses to approach a nearby window and record the incident from his phone.

"Human Rights Watch reviewed the video and verified that it was taken in Gaza City’s port and identified that the munitions used in the strike were airburst 155mm white phosphorus artillery projectiles," says the Human Rights Watch report.

"The use of white phosphorus in densely populated areas of Gaza violates the requirement under international humanitarian law to take all feasible precautions to avoid civilian injury and loss of life."

Israeli authorities refuse to confirm or deny the use of White Phosphorus despite the testimony of witnesses and video recordings.

Attacks using air-delivered incendiary weapons in civilian areas are prohibited under Protocol III of the Convention on Conventional Weapons (CCW). Though weaker restrictions exist for ground launched incindiary weapons.

Protocol III applies only to weapons that are “primarily designed” to set fires or cause burns, and thus some countries believe it excludes certain multipurpose munitions with incendiary effects, notably those containing white phosphorus.

#source

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months

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Heyo! Do you have a personal ranking of all TWST (JP) events?

Though another random thing I want to say is about the events, do you think some events are more forgotten about than others??? I say this because I think the Sunset Savana Tamashina, Endless Halloween, Wish upon a star and Beans Day are usually not talked about as much as other events like the Ghost Marriage and Fairy Gala events.

Unless this is all just the TWST stuff I'm usually fed...

I haven't ranked all of the events myself since a lot of them fall into a "they're okay" middle ground category. (Besides, my rankings would be outdated and I’d have to come back and edit my list every month when new events come out.)

What I will say is that my favorite events right now are the following (in no particular order): Glorious Masquerade, Fairy Gala: If, Wish Upon a Star, Ghost Marriage, Beans Day (I + II), and White Rabbit Fest. I give more in-depth thoughts about my favorite events here!

I personally have not noticed a significant skew towards certain events over the others, though of course this could vary a lot depending on the smaller TWST circles you run in and/or what your social media algorithms feed you. The general trend tends to be a huge burst of discussion or related fan content during or around the time of the event's run or rerun, then the hype dies down once the event ends. Most of the event-specific content you'll see after the events (at least in my experience) are theories/analyses calling back to details mentioned in the events. TWST itself certainly doesn't discriminate against certain events; to this day, they still sometimes come out with merch for their earliest event, Beans Day. There's probably going to be another wave of event-themed merch to coincide with the later events.

To explain maybe why you may perceive certain events as more popular than others: not all events are created equal, and not all events drop interesting lore that people find worth discussing. The endings for Tamashina Mina and Endless Halloween Night were, as I recall, contentious or not well-received by pockets of the fandom. This could explain why they're not talked about much. Wish Upon a Star was notable for being the first time ever we saw the boys' individual rooms, but other than that... there wasn't anything that exciting to most. A lot of their wishes were self-explanatory or expected, and Idia's conflict is also one that is explored or otherwise mentioned many times over, which could result in a lack of fandom interest.

Beans Day has its age to consider. As the oldest event, it has maybe just eroded in memory due to the passage of time. Additionally, it's one of the few events (outside of Halloween ones) to prominently feature the entire cast, meaning everyone is fighting for the spotlight and thus makes it harder for specific events or interactions to stick out in people's minds.

And as to why Ghost Marriage and Fairy Gala are popular? I'll be 100% honest, I'm pretty sure it's because of the aesthetics. FG does not have a fantastic story, but man, do those outfits look good. GM is in a similar situation (who doesn't love a cute guy in a suit?), and it has the distinction of being the one and only TWST event with an overt "romance" theme (which appeals to the dense population of yumes and/or shippers in the fandom).

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #question #notes from the writing raven #jp spoilers

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bibibbon · 2 months

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Hi again! So when it comes to friendships in MHA, I tend to notice that most of Class 1-A antics usually centre around mineta and bakugo's behaviour to the class, (Violence and Seggsual Harassment) like they just react to it, but never bother correcting them (Mineta being an exception, but not enough to completely change him).

Like the whole class as whole feels... Empty and stale when it comes to forming new friendships, since they're already established ones, but we never get to see them hanging out with the others. And some of them have potentials like Momo and Deku due to their self esteem issues or Ojiro and Uraraka training together to perfect each other's martial arts.

There's a scene where Momo agrees to tutor the other failing students thats cute as heck and it showcases Momo's willingness to help them improve to become better heroes, and I want more of that.

But with the series ending, I don't think this is even possible to have more that, and it almost comes off as fake to the audience that these are found family, where in reality we barely see them acting as friends. (Teasing has a limit, and making fun of Kaminari's dumb moments when he overcharges his Quirk doesn't count.)

What do you think? Again I don't watch the series full episodes, but I get these impressions from watching cut out moments.

Welcome back anon! Iam guessing that you're the anon who asked for writing advice and honestly Iam hoping that you found the post and the reblogs with advice useful as well. Good luck on your first project and make sure to have fun and take your time with it!

Now getting on to the ask you're somewhat right. Class 1A doesn't have a strong found family dynamic at all and I chalk this up to two main reasons.

The lack of "filler" academic arcs meaning that we don't get a proper focus on what they do as regular teenagers.

There are too many people within class 1A. 20 characters are a lot of characters to develop and make sure that they're all unique with different dynamics.

Due to these two reasons hori's attempts at making 1A seem like a big found family that would do anything for eachother fails and it's also why the the whole "we are all the greatest hero" thing fails and why the vigilante izuku arc feels so underwhelming.

When it comes to class 1A's dynamic they somehow always try to incorporate bakugo into whatever they're doing and sometimes even make him the center of attention which personally seems very weird to me since if someone is being aggressive and doesn't want to join I (and most people) would probably leave them out and let them be by themselves.

Mineta on the other hand is someone that's behaviour (like bk) continually goes unchecked by both students and teachers until mina tortures him into stopping. I get that this is supposed to be a gag scene but it honestly irks me out and shows 1) how neglectful aizawa is as a teacher to see this and only momentarily stop mineta while not putting a permeant stop to it and 2) how dense and persistent mineta is. Throughout certain arcs like the campfire arc mineta is literally tied up when the boys are sleeping so he doesn't do anything to the girls or we literally have a panel of mina staying close by to shoji's side to avoid mineta and his creepy behaviour.

This brings up the question of why does no one complain? It's at this point become a problem for both the boys and girls who have to deal with mineta. The boys are continually on his side, basically man handling him to stop him from doing stupid disgusting stuff to the girls and the girls are in constant fear/irritation around mineta. Do they not trust UA? Do they not trust aizawa or any teacher to properly deal with the issue?

We have established friendships in 1A but the lack of content of them hanging out and enjoying eachother company. Now you can find this in side mangas or light novels but not many read that and it's better to have it in main manga in the first place. Usually the opening or endings of MHA show us some scenes of the kids hanging out together but it's not much at all.

I remember reading a post that horikoshi wanted to include a karaoke scene with 1A after they finished their final exam but that sadly didn't make it into the final cut and Iam so disappointed because things like that could of helped us see the cute class bond they had and the found family thing that horikoshi tries to use later on.

Honestly momo and izuku interacting and becoming besties is a need and I know that @sapphic-agent has tried to prioritise that in her rewrite which is why in the battle trials it's Izuku and momo together instead of izuku and ochako.

The kaminari teasing is something that's a bit meh to me. I wish we could maybe see a duality in it that yes his friends would tease him but they would also worry and care for him. We could of seen this with ojirou who lets denki play with his tail whenever but that's only small little moments.

Horikoshi please make class 1A interact more in the main manga although it's now too late to ask for such things 😭

#mha critical #bnha critical #mha #horikoshi critical #hori is a bad writer #bhna critical #bnha #thanks for the ask #thanks for the ask!#thanks anon!#thanks anon #class 1A deserves better #we needed more breather arcs #iam hoping i have the right anon #if this isnt the same anon iam going to be so embarrassed but please correct me if iam wrong #bakugo critical #ua critical #aizawa critical

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bythepen98 · 2 years

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Sry if it looks a bit dark bc I also used it as a lighting study. Plus I finished this while exhausted and stressed out of my mind bc fck caffeine and anxiety

Tododeku 💚❤️

Another dancer!Izuku au (although there isn't any actual dancing drawn here)

The context:

In this scene, Izuku is watching a choreography video that he's about to work on (could be casual or he's doing a solo for an event/comp outside of school). Shouto's there to help him practice: in charge of keeping him steady when he's doing his spins and other maneuvers, turning on/off the music, bringing him a towel or water bottle during breaks, cooling him down when everything's finished.

He's an idiot in love who'll do anything Izuku asks of him, their classmates would say.

And they're absolutely right.

Even if Izuku technically doesn't need any help bc he's practiced on his own many times before, there's nothing wrong with having someone so willing to lessen the load AND keeping him company. He's still rly dense though and never wonders why when, at the corner of his eye, he'd notice Shoto staring at him with that dazed [fond] look on his face but flinch away when he looks back.

And the fleeting touches on his waist or back? Lmao he's gotten so used to physical touches over his years dancing with other people that he doesn't think anything of it. Shoto could probably lift him up (making Izuku instinctively wrap his legs around his waist) or dip him down in a suave move -Mina or Kaminari or good ol youtube taught him that one idk- practically touching nose to nose with the guy with the most obvious, besotted look ever and Izuku would just laugh and pat his head indulgently, completely unfazed.

Shoto isn't too disappointed bc he's just happy to be there and support Izuku in his hobbies. However, Class 1-A continues to give him pitying looks anyway the rest of the day/semester/school year while the teachers, excluding a sleeping Aizawa, are amused and constantly take bets on how things are progressing bc they clearly have nothing better to do than watch over student's love lives like it's a particularly long kdrama. All might is ofc ever supportive and rest assured he's always in the front row with Inko and Shoto in every event Izuku performs in. Katsuki, his platonic soulmate/rival at life also makes it a point to attend as many shows as he can but WILL deny when asked even if you can clearly see his deeply impressed scowl all the way from the stage.

Anyway, that's the limit of my imagination at the moment. I tried my best with this one but looking at it again..... yeah definitely needs more improvement. I'll just have to keep practicing then by drawing more Tododeku and my other loved ships :D

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spadesolace · 2 years

Text

what is love?

PAIRING: minji x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: kim minji isn't one to fully express her feelings nor confess, it was always the other way around. so when did she start feeling butterflies in her stomach whenever son y/n looked her way?

TAGS: kim minji (new jeans), a bit of angst, mostly minji pining for reader, a bit one-sided at first, commitment issues from both of them, slow burn, everyone noticing y/n also pining for minji but minji is dense.

WARNINGS: strong language, a bit of angst, some emotional abuse if you squint hard enough, trauma dumping, divorced parents

FEATURING: new jeans, le sserafim, ive, son chaeyoung (twice), myoui mina (twice)

CHAPTERS:

0: introductions

1: hurt

2: attention

3: cookie

4: hype girl

5: ditto

6: omg

bonus fics: childish antics | what is love?

visuals: one |

#kim minji #newjeans #newjeans x reader #kim minji x reader #newjeans imagines #kpop gg #kpop x reader #le sserafim #twice #ive #what is love #wil!yn

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frickingnerd · 2 years

Text

Class 1A Masterlist

Izuku Midoriya

↳ Masterlist

Katsuki Bakugou

↳ Masterlist

Shoto Todoroki

↳ Masterlist

Tenya Iida

dating tenya iida - headcanons

fake dating tenya iida - headcanons

Eijirou Kirishima

tenya with a sweet but protective s/o - headcanons

tenya with a s/o who has a healing quirk - headcanons

fixing what's been broken by others - oneshot

dating eijirou kirishima - headcanons

kirishima bullying his crush - headcannons

kirishima with a s/o who has a healing quirk - headcanons

poly relationship with kirishima & tetsutetsu - headcanons

Denki Kaminari

dating denki kaminari - headcanons

denki lending you his jacket - headcanons

yandere denki kaminari - headcanons

denki with a s/o who has a healing quirk - headcanons

denki kaminari with a girlfriend - headcanons

things denki does, that make you fall in love with him even more - headcanons

Hanta Sero

(accidentally) holding hands - drabble

your friends teasing sero & you about your crush on each other - headcanons

Fumikage Tokoyami

tokoyami with a hyperfeminine girlfriend - headcanons

dating fumikage tokoyami - headcanons

poly relationship with shoji & tokoyami - headcanons

poly relationship with tsuyu & tokoyami - headcanons

Yuga Aoyama

dating yuga aoyama - headcanons

aoyama with a quirkless s/o - headcanons

aoyama breaking up with his s/o - headcanons

aoyama with a s/o who has a healing quirk - headcanons

Mashirao Ojiro

dating mashirao ojiro - headcanons

ojiro taking care of his s/o - headcanons

Rikidou Sato

dating rikido sato - headcanons

working at a maid cafe with sato - headcanons

Mezou Shouji

i'm a mess without your love - oneshot

dating mezo shoji - headcanons

shouji confessing to you - headcanons

poly relationship with shouji & tokoyami - headcanons

Kouji Kouda

dating kouji kouda - headcanons

Ochako Uraraka

two is better than one - oneshot feat. nejire

dating ochako uraraka - headcanons

roommates to lovers with ochako - headcanons

watching a horror movie with ochako - headcanons

ochako with a s/o who constantly gets into fights - headcanons

poly relationship with izuku & ochako - headcanons

Tsuyu Asui

cuddling with tsuyu asui - headcanons

tsuyu crushing on a dense reader - headcanons

poly relationship with tsuyu & tokoyami - headcanons

Momo Yaoyorozu

i couldn't stand to lose you - oneshot

Kyoka Jirou

holding hands with jirou - headcanons

jirou with a s/o who has a computer quirk - headcanons

Mina Ashido

yandere mina ashido - headcanons

Toru Hagakure

happy little accidents - oneshot

flirting gone wrong! - oneshot, feat camie

dating toru hagakure - headcanons

hagakure with a s/o who can see her - headcanons

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anghraine · 2 months

Text

Just thinking about Gondor, as usual, and how wild it is that the (supposedly minority!) population of Gondorians who speak Sindarin and/or know Quenya at the end of the Third Age is likely higher than the combined number of all Elves still remaining in Middle-earth who can speak either.

Tolkien's specific statement is that more Men speak Sindarin or know Quenya than Elves do either, but while this group of Men would encompass people like the Northern Dúnedain, Théoden, etc, the letter directly links this to Gondorian usage of Sindarin and Quenya. That does make sense given the extreme population disparities involved; the vast majority of the Men in question would pretty much have to come from Gondor. Certainly, the only place where we actually see widespread, casual, local Sindarin usage among Men is Minas Tirith (though we know the linguistic patterns of MT are also characteristic of Dol Amroth and likely throughout much of Belfalas).

In addition, Tolkien tried to make sense of the limited evolution of Gondorian Sindarin by saying it's an acquired polite language among Númenórean aristocratic elites and scholars. In the actual process of writing LOTR there were various explanations (in one draft Faramir explains that Westron is a Gondorian conlang invented for dealings with other peoples, for instance). But Tolkien's standard justification for Gondorian Sindarin being so recognizable soon settled on an idea that Gondorian Sindarin is a language of the elites taught to them in childhood and used as a courtesy or mark of high status rather than evolving naturally.

I've always found this explanation a bit odd given that in the main narrative of LOTR, the Gondorian groups we see using Sindarin in full sentences/conversations rather than for specific names like Mithrandir or isolated words are mainly Gondorian soldiers outside of leadership roles. Faramir's men in Ithilien switch to "another language of their own" that turns out to be Sindarin. In the streets of Minas Tirith, "many" random soldiers call out to each other in Sindarin to gossip about Pippin. The almost entirely Gondorian armies following Aragorn praise the hobbits in Sindarin and Quenya.

But if we take Tolkien's statement at face value, the implication is that Númenórean elites in Gondor (i.e. a small fraction of the overall Gondorian population) outnumber the combined populations of all Sindarin- or Quenya-speaking Elves remaining in Middle-earth.

Many Elves have left or died, yes, but we're still talking about the Elves of Rivendell and of Lothlórien and all the ones scattered throughout Lindon, combined. If they really are outnumbered by Gondor's ruling aristocracy alone, I think the usual estimates of Gondor's overall population must be far too low. Tolkien simply noted that the population of Minas Tirith and its fiefs (presumably referring to Lossarnach, Anórien etc), while declined from the past, must have still been "much greater" than the combined Elvish populations of Rivendell, Lothlórien, and Lindon. That's not even getting into the more outlying fiefs of Gondor like densely-populated Belfalas.

(Alternatively, you could fanwank that Sindarin/Quenya are more widely spoken in Gondor than this and thus the population disparities, while certainly present, are not quite so extreme as this suggests. But that interpretation does require ignoring explicit statements from Tolkien in a way that something like theorizing population based on vague canonical suggestions is typically going to avoid doing.)

#why do so many people insist on using western medieval european militarization or population ratios for gondor though...#i mean. i know why but it's still a very strange choice imo #even setting aside the fact that gondor was not remotely based on medieval france or england or whatever #middle-earth c. lotr is a sometimes medieval-ish-flavored prehistorical setting which is often demographically very distinct #from actual medieval western europe #it's an ancient setting with many preternaturally strong 6-8' tall people who regularly live into their 90s and beyond #tolkien pointed out that faramir/éowyn is not happening in a 'courtly' setting à la medieval courtly romance but something older and nobler #any given place could have way more or way less people than medieval france bc it's not medieval france #(sorry to bully the medieval french but tolkien would)#anghraine babbles #long post #ondonórë blogging #legendarium blogging #lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #legendarium fanwank #sindarin #quenya #anghraine's meta #linguistic stuff

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useless-catalanfacts · 21 days

Note

Was curious if you have any interesting information on L’Hospitalet de Llobregat?

I moved about a year ago, and I am about to sign up for my first Catalan class with the CNL soon. Since I do not speak Catalan yet and have limited Spanish, a lot of information I come across for my new home is not accessible to me.

Thank you in advance, and for you write on here in general. It is a great resource.

Thank you! And best wishes for the course with CNL, I hope you enjoy it!

L'Hospitalet de Llobregat is the 2nd most populated city in Catalonia and has the most densely-populated neighbourhood in all of Europe (Torrassa and Collblanc neighbourhoods). I'll shorten it to L'H from now on.

There's archaeological evidence of population in what nowadays in L'H since the Paleolithic (hunter-gatherer communities in the Prehistory), Ancient Iberian (the indigenous people who lived here before the Roman invasion), and the Roman era.

Ancient Roman head of Medusa known as "Medusa de Provençana", found in an excavation next to the Santa Eulàlia de Provençana church in L'H. Nowadays it's exhibited in the Museu d'Arqueologia de Catalunya, Barcelona.

The origin of the city as we know it now dates back to the Middle Ages. It originated as two entities: the older Provençana (which we have written records of since around the year 900, and was found around Sta Eulàlia de Provençana) and the later Hospital de la Torre Blanca ("Hospital of the White Tower", from around the year 1100, what is now barri del Centre). The second one was a hospital not in our modern sense of a place to take care of the ill, it was a house for helping poor and homeless people, probably founded by the Knights Hospitaller. It grew in population and ended up becoming more important than Provençana, and eventually the name that designated the whole area was changed from Provençana to L'Hospitalet (meaning "The Little Hospital" in Catalan).

But throughout all of these centuries, L'H was a very rural town with a small population (as an example, it had about 900 inhabitants in the year 1815). The population grew when an irrigation canal was built that allowed the fields to be way more productive, reaching 5,000 inhabitants around the year 1900. But the population boom came in the 1960s and 1970s, during the Francoist dictatorship, when many immigrants from different rural parts of Spain moved to the big cities to work in the industry. That's when the areas around Barcelona were quickly built up in these massive apartment blocks to make the "bedroom cities" from where the newly-arrived workers commuted to work every day. The population boom was so huge that it explains why L'H is the 2nd biggest city in Catalonia and so densely populated.

Carrer de la Florida in 1956 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

Carrer de la Renclusa, 84, in 1955 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

Carrer de la Mina, 19, in 1956 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

Avinguda del Torrent, 78, in 1956 vs 2024. (L'H city archive / Google Maps).

These "bedroom cities" had been built so quickly, that they didn't have any services. The inhabitants had to fight for all the services they have, which created a strong sense of pride that still continues nowadays.

As another note, one of the most famous maquis (anti-Francoism guerrilla fighters) was from L'H: Quico Sabaté. You can read about him on Wikipedia here. Another famous person from L'H is Ferran Adrià, one of the most famous chefs in the whole world.

I hope this was interesting, and I hope you can make the most of the Catalan classes, it will surely help you understand the country more and get better perspectives for a job.

#l'hospitalet de llobregat #catalunya #ask #anonymous

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whoopsyeahokay · 4 months

Text

October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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whatswrongwithblue · 2 months

Text

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 16 - Possessed

Word count: 7,613. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: The consequences of Alastor being bested are felt by more than just himself. Trigger Warnings: Canon typical violence, possession, mentions of masturbation, alcohol and tobacco use, and self-harm/self-mutilation.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 16 - Possessed

1984

It only took Rosie’s people a couple hours to gather up their resources and investigate just what had happened to Mina and who was involved. They reported their findings to her and Rosie used the information to quickly come up with a plan; one that would be very fortuitous for herself.

That is how, come midafternoon that very same day, Rosie walked through the same door Mina had that morning and heard the same bell chime its welcome to her.

“Good afternoon,” she said to the same two assistants that were still manning the register.

Another shopper had peaked around one of the stacks, spotted Rosie, and scurried past her and out the front door.

“And where would the owner of this fine establishment be?”

The boy was staring at her open mouthed, but the girl seemed to have a little bit more wits about her, so she wordlessly leaned forward and banged on the little bell in front of her.

“What is it?!” Theodore shouted from somewhere in the back.

Without taking her eyes off Rosie, the girl hit the bell again.

“Oh for fucks sake, if those two have run off again-“ Theodore stopped his rant as he walked up front, freezing in place when he saw Rosie.

“Children,” Rosie said, turning to the desk attendants. “Theodore will no longer be needing your assistance. See yourselves out.”

“Hey, now wait a minute, I own their souls. You can’t just-“

“Oh, and a word of advice, my dears,” Rosie said, ignoring his protests. “Once you get out those front doors . . .” She flashed them her toothiest smile. “Run.”

The assistants made haste and left the store, moving quicker than Theodore had ever seen them move before.

“I didn’t do anything,” he began once the door had swung shut.

Rosie laughed. “A liar and a coward. And Mina always spoke of you with such regard to your character.”

He swallowed nervously with an audible gulp.

Rosie made a show of looking around the place. She peaked through the curtain of the front window, inspecting the neighboring buildings, and then turned towards the small spiral staircase, looking up at the landing above that housed more books.

“You know, this neighborhood is really only a few minutes away from Cannibal Town. And I’ve been thinking for a while that I should expand my boarders. Getting a bit too dense in there, if you know what I mean. But I’m backed up against so many other sections of the city, there’s really nowhere to go. I’m a reasonable woman after all, and no one has given me a reason to take over what’s theirs. Until now, that is.”

“What-you can’t! It was just me! You can’t just take over several other businesses because of what I did to one girl!”

Rosie tsked at him, disapprovingly.

“They let those ghouls into their neighborhood. They watched as Mina was dragged from your shop. I can’t have simpletons like that so close to my boarders. But don’t worry about them. The other businesses around here will have a choice. Join me, and learn how a real Overlord runs things, or . . . be on the menu.”

Theodore began to back away, trying to put the front desk between himself and Rosie.

She just smiled at him, allowing him to make his small retreat.

“How did you find out?” he asked as he sidestepped behind the desk.

“I have my ways,” she answered with a delicate shrug.

“And just to be clear, you’re implying you won’t be giving me the same choice as you’ll give the others?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Like I said, lots of people in Cannibal Town these days. Gotta give them fresh meat sometimes.”

Behind her, the door opened again, and half a dozen cannibals filtered into the shop.

Theodore reached for the shelving hidden behind the desk and pulled out a gun. Rather than pull it on Rosie or the Cannibals, he lifted it to his own head and pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

The trigger clicked a tiny, useless sound and Theodore stared at the gun.

“Like I said,” Rosie smiled, “I have my ways. Did you think I was going to leave you with an easy way out? Let you respawn and hide somewhere else? The chase could be fun . . .”

Her cannibals were circling the desk, two on either open ends and two standing at the front, completely caging him in.

“But I’m a busy woman,” Rosie stated, “and I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense.”

The two Cannibals at the front of the desk leaped over the barrier as the four at each side closed the distance as well.

Outside the building, several demons passing by stopped as the screaming began and then quickly headed in the opposite direction when they saw the large mass of Cannibals walking down the middle of the street, breaking into smaller groups and entering several neighboring businesses at once.

_____

The rest of that first day was the hardest for Mina.

Once she came to, it became evident that while she was no longer in physical pain and had longer bouts of clarity than just the couple of seconds she had shown at Rosie’s, the mental attack she was fighting was far from over.

Alastor hadn’t chained her to the wall at first. He couldn’t bring himself to. She was still sound asleep and peaceful looking. He had only kept the shackles around her neck as a precaution against her morphing into her larger form, but he hadn’t really believed it would be an issue anymore.

He laid her down on the sofa in the main room of the radio tower, careful to move the links of the large chain so that they were more comfortable for her. More of her hair had fallen in her eyes so he brushed the strands away and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, and she made a soft, sweet whine in her sleep in response. His strained grin lifted at the corners just a bit, his hope growing that she would be okay now.

He dressed her using his magic, her usual orange sundress appearing first as a wrapping of shadows around her sleeping form, before solidifying as clothing, zipped up and fitting her body perfectly.

Alastor sat on the couch beside her, watching her sleep for several minutes. He was just barely keeping his rage at bay. So much of him wanted to go find Kassandra right then and there and rip her soul apart in the streets for everyone to see. But he made himself sit there, quietly, and keep guard over Mina until she was well again. He had been speaking the truth when he told Abaddon he knew Mina would want her revenge. As hard as it was for him to imagine his love being beaten, undressed, and her mind assaulted, it had to be all the more difficult for her. The best thing he could do for her was force himself to settle now so they could seek their vengeance together later.

It wasn’t long before she began to stir. First her eyes opened and blinked, then she sat up, feeling the shackle around her neck, and Alastor could see the moment when Mina recalled what had happened that day.

“It’s just a precaution,” he said, feeling ashamed he had left her in them. “I’ll remove them the second we’re sure your alright.”

Mina’s hands dropped from her neck to her lap. “You should have chained me to the wall.”

“I would never,” he insisted.

“Rosie’s going to kill me.”

“She will do no such thing, believe me.”

“If I were anyone else, she would have.”

“But you’re not anyone else. You're mine.”

Mina looked at him then, and Alastor tried to force his smile into something softer and more reassuring but as tears began to gather in her eyes, he felt his anger returning. She was not a woman who cried easily. It took a great amount of emotional distress to bring her to tears and watching her break like this was pulling at every last shred of Alastor’s sanity.

He was not a good or tender man. Alastor didn’t necessarily view himself as evil, he possessed some kind of moral compass, however broken and twisted it was. But he was well aware of the reasons as to why he was in Hell. And his first instincts when he saw the woman he loved hurt and crying, was not to comfort her, but to lash out at the thing that had done this to her. It was a great mental effort for him to remind himself that one had to come before the other, and he reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, letting her sob out her frustrations.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried into his jacket, “I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried. I tried to fight them off. I tried to get her out of my head. But she’s so strong Al’. I didn’t mean to do the things I did. I didn’t want to. The whole time, I was trying to stop, I really was-“

“Mina,” he said sternly, cutting her off. “None of this was your fault.”

“But I was weak. That’s what Kassandra wanted to show everyone. That you had given yourself to someone weak. And she’s right-“

“Stop it,” he said and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away enough to make her look at him. “That’s just her in your head. You and I are going to kill them all for what they did to you, so that’s enough talk of weakness, my dear.”

Mina seemed to relax a little then. Her tears were still falling but she wasn’t sobbing in earnest anymore, and she sank back into him, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Alastor sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch, trying to ignore the rush of hormones in his body as Mina’s figure pressed against his but his thoughts began to wander.

She was crying, and soft, and warm against his body, she needed him to show her that she was his, that she was safe in his possession, that no one but him would ever again be allowed to touch her like this.

He was snapped from his rut-induced train of thought when she suddenly tensed against him and shame coursed through him, thinking she had somehow caught on to the fantasy emerging in his mind.

But then Mina began to growl and her hands shot up, clutching the sides of her head. She screamed a guttural, desperate sound as she struggled against another mental onslaught.

Alastor sat up with her, taking hold of her forearms.

“Mina,” he said, unsure of what to do or say.

“I CAN’T GET HER OUT!” she screamed. Her face was turning red with effort, her cheeks wet with fresh tears, and Alastor saw a trickle of blood running down her wrist and realized too late she was clawing at herself.

He made the mistake of trying to force her hands away from her, just to keep her from hurting herself further, and she lashed out at him with another feral shriek, and bit into his shoulder.

Her teeth tore through jacket and shirt and sank into the meat of his shoulder and his survival instincts kicked in. Shadows forced themselves around her, pushing her off him and wrapping themselves around her, holding her down on the couch. His real shadow appeared on the wall, spreading itself up and out, hissing down at her as she continued to struggle and scream, once again completely out of her mind.

Alastor sucked in a breath of air and pressed his hand to his bleeding shoulder, looking at Mina with pity and concern. He had underestimated by a long shot just how much she would continue to struggle for command over her body and mind.

“I’m so sorry, Mina,” he said, though he was sure she couldn’t comprehend his words, and stood, grabbing the ends of the chains.

His shadows forced her along behind him so she wasn’t dragged, and he chained her to the wall on the opposite side of the room, keeping tentacles of shadow around her wrists so that she couldn’t do any further damage to herself.

She looked like so many of the souls he had brought misery to in his time in Hell. With a chain around her neck, his shadows forcing her down, her screams of desperation and rage against him filling up the room.

Alastor turned away, unable to watch.

Had there really been a time when this is what he had wanted to do to her? To own her soul and keep her in chains, completely at the whim of his own will and power? He had done it to thousands of others easily; joyfully even. And he would do it again a thousand times over. But to Mina? It seemed abhorrent and unnatural to see her like this.

Several long minutes went by with her in that state until she eventually collapsed to the floor, crying quietly but when he said her name, she didn’t respond. She was still out of it, unaware of her surroundings, it was just that her body was too exhausted to struggle.

He summoned a mattress beneath her and once she had fallen truly asleep, he let his shadows dissipate from around her.

It was going to be a very long 48 hours for him.

Looking down with disgust at the tent in his pants, he realized he wouldn’t be able to care for her alone like he wanted to. Not when he would have to keep leaving her side to take care of that.

He left her briefly for a few minutes, chaperoned by his shadow, and transported himself to the bathroom to clean up the blood from his shoulder and relieve his other problem, before heading back upstairs and summoning Niffty.

She got to quick work, cleaning up the discarded mess he had left around his workstation, and then the blood that had splattered on the floor and couch from Mina’s attack, before making tea with honey to sooth Mina’s throat once she woke up.

Alastor would never have even thought about her throat being hurt from all her screaming and allowed himself to relax a little once Niffty had considered it, knowing for sure he had made the right decision by bringing her into this.

“Thank you, Niffty,” he said as she placed the tray down on the small dining table in the room where he and Mina had shared their first meal together. She even had a tea cozy around the pot and a little candle burning beneath it to keep it warm until Mina woke again. Alastor wasn’t sure where she had gotten such a thing, but Niffty was often as mysterious in her abilities as Alastor himself was.

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” she asked, watching Mina sleep from across the room.

Alastor nodded, accepting a cup of the tea as Niffty handed it to him, unsweetened like he preferred it. “It is, my dear. Unfortunately, it is. But it won’t be for much longer, I’m sure of it.”

Niffty wandered around the room, restless as usual for something to do, now that she had cleaned the place from top to bottom. She stopped at one of the large windows, peering down at the street below.

“Oh no,” she said, wringing her small hands nervously.

“What is it?” Alastor asked and strode over to see what she was looking at.

A large crowd of demons, Sinners and Hellborns alike, were gathered around the radio tower. Most were keeping a safe distance, but many were standing directly beneath them, gawking up at the tower as if they could catch a glimpse of something through the one-way windows.

“I guess word has gotten out about what happened today, huh?” she asked, peeling her eyes away from the scene below to look up at Alastor.

The teacup shattered in his grip as his smile widened to an unnatural width across his features.

“’Eat shit and die,’ that was the supposed message for me. What do you think, Niffty?”

She climbed up on his shoulder, looking down at the crowd from her improved vantage point.

“I think you should burn them, sir,” she said with a smile that matched his own.

They shared a knowing look and laughed together, and then in unison turned their gaze back on the demons below.

A shadow grew at the base of the tower, spreading like flowing water across the street, reaching out to the furthest members of the crowd.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying how many of them began to nervously lift one foot and then the other, pathetically trying to avoid the shadow’s reach.

With a squint of his eyes and a snap of his fingers, the shadow ignited, and green flames devoured the entire crowd as one. Dozens, maybe even a hundred, demons screaming in unison as their souls were devoured and then added to his collection.

It was his turn to leave a message to all of Pentagram City. The Radio Demon didn’t have to step a foot out of his tower to be a threat, regardless of the slight against his own hours before.

“Alastor?” Mina’s rough voice called for him, and both he and Niffty turned away from the window, the green glow of the blaze reflecting behind them.

Niffty jumped from his shoulder and ran over to the teapot, pouring out a cup and began to walk towards her.

Mina pulled away as Niffty approached her, pressing herself against the wall.

“Stay back,” she warned, and Niffty stopped, glancing over at Alastor with a questioning look.

“She’s just trying to help,” Alastor told Mina.

Mina’s ears went flat against her head and she looked away, ashamed and submissive. “I don’t want to hurt her,” she said in a small voice.

Alastor sent a tendril of shadow from his back that stretched across the room and carefully took the handle of the teacup before carrying it over to Mina.

The tentacle held it in front of her face and she reached out, taking it in both hands and then meeting Alastor’s eyes again.

“For your throat,” he explained.

Mina sipped at it for a few minutes and then laid back down on the mattress, turning her back to the other two occupants, and remaining silent.

Niffty stayed a while longer, cooking them all a meal while Alastor watched over Mina, excusing himself for a few moments of privacy every once in a while to deal with the affects of his rut.

Mina didn’t touch her food that was left in a bowl beside her, too upset to eat, or perhaps to repulsed by food because of Kassandr’a presence in her head. It was hard to say.

She fell to her insanity a couple more times before twilight officially fell over the city.

Alastor and Niffty watched her as she struggled against her bonds, her body attempting to morph even with the chains on. Mina was on all fours, pulling backwards against the chain on her neck, her body long and barely human anymore as it strained with all its might against the angelic power forcing it to stay small. Her spine protruded out from between her shoulder blades, her ribs stretching the fabric of her dress nearly to the point of tearing it with every heaving breath she took, and her claws tore into the mattress below her, desperate to gain leverage in her struggle against her chains. Alastor kept his shadows hovering over her, ready to force her still should she turn those claws on herself again.

All the while, she screamed and cried, her face contorted in misery as she fought for control over her body.

“You can go now, Niffty. I’ll call on you sometime tomorrow. Go and get some rest now,” Alastor said to her.

Mina’s struggles were only getting more intense and though he probably could still use Niffty’s help, it was getting to the point where he wanted Mina to keep what was left of her dignity and not have anyone else witness the worst of what she was going through.

Niffty nodded dutifully as shadows engulfed her, sending her back to wherever she had been when he had summoned her.

Mina continued with her battles throughout the night, off and on, nearly until morning when she finally collapsed for several hours on the mattress.

Before she had truly fallen to sleep, trusting in that longer moment of lucidity, Alastor had risked undoing the chains from the wall and had his shadow escort her to the restroom so she could at least take care of that one bodily need in private. He had sighed in relief when she had returned, quickly and peacefully, though she laid down and again turned away from him when he hooked her back to the wall.

He took off his jacket and laid down beside her, reaching an arm around her to her spoon her from behind, but she tensed and pulled away.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and then said softy, “please. I’ll hurt you.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he said, and reached his arm around her again, succeeding that time in pulling her against him.

“I bit you,” she protested, still tense but no longer trying to put distance between them.

“Oh, it’s nothing worse than what you’ve done in moments of passion, my dear,” he said lightly, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, right in the middle of one of his particularly favorite leopard spots.

“It’s different,” she mumbled.

She was right, of course. Her love bites were always painful, but pleasant. Enough to break the skin and draw blood, but the pain during intercourse was thrilling. What she had done in her moment of madness had truly hurt and had been a much deeper wound. But still, it had healed within the hour and he was confident in being able to read the warning signs of an attack now, as well as his ability to hold her back even if she did manage to get another bite or scratch in.

Right now he just wanted to comfort her, to hold her after everything she had been through that day. And, he couldn’t deny, his own body was desperate to touch her.

Her breathing began to slow and he knew that she had fallen asleep. He stayed there, exhausted as well, and closed his eyes as he tried to drift off to sleep.

Dozing off, and half asleep, his hand wandered over her body. The smooth backside of his clawed nails trailing up and down her arm, a soothing rhythm for both of them. Then the smell of her overtook his senses and his hand left her arm, now following the curve of her hip and upper thigh over the fabric of her dress.

His eyes snapped open, the dim red glow of them illuminating her silhouette, as his hand found the bunched up skirt near her upper thigh.

He imagined that hand slipping beneath the dress, following her smooth skin up, exposing the soft round flesh of her ass. She had it pressed against him just right and he could feel himself growing hard against her. It would take so little effort to adjust her body, pull aside her panties, and take her right there. He thought of Kassandra in her mind and it only made him harder, made him want to at least claim her body, remind that bitch that Mina was untouchable, that she was his, and her warm little body would always be his, and no one else’s, for the taking. Mina would likely even stay asleep through the act, he could just quickly slip himself inside and-

Alastor yanked his hand away from her and stood up.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

His rut was no excuse. Even in her heat, even while drunk, Mina had better control of herself than he did. It was embarrassing. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself at even entertaining the thought of using her body that way, when she was in no state to consent.

Even with his mind shouting at him for what he had nearly done, his body still sought what it was after.

In a rage, Alastor disappeared from the room, turning to shadow and leaving Mina sleeping as he did what he had to do in the bathroom below.

Afterwards, as he washed his hands, Alastor looked up, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

That stupid fucking smile.

He had never hated it so much. Never hated himself so much as he did in that moment. He wanted to cut it off his face like he had his tail so many times in the past.

Alastor punched the mirror, watching it shatter, only to have the broken glass reveal a dozen more smaller reflections of the same damnable smile back at him.

With a shout, he ripped the mirror off the wall and threw it across the room. It hit the edge of the claw-footed tub and settled on the floor, completely broken, with his reflection finally hidden from him.

He gripped the edges of the sink, breathing hard, and looked down into the basin of the sink.

Alastor watched as droplets of water hit the porcelain and after a moment, realized he was crying.

Everything caught up to him in that moment. What had been done to Mina. How horrifically her body and mind had been violated. He had failed her. He had let a threat build under his very watch and it had come for her. And now he was helpless as she fought for herself. He couldn’t even heal her; he had needed Abaddon for that. And now he had to just watch as she fought off that demon in her mind and in her moment of weakness, as she fell asleep in his arms, still trusting him to watch over and protect her, he had nearly raped her. All because he couldn’t control himself during his rut.

Alastor dropped to his knees, still clutching the edges of the sink, and broke down into sobs.

He hadn’t felt this horrid in a very long time. It was like being surrounded by a dark cloud, that pressed against his mind and ate up every emotion except pain. No longer anything as clear as anger or guilt, just pain. Just an endless dense fog that kept him from thinking or feeling anything coherent.

As an adult, he had found a release from these moods. By embracing another kind of darkness, he had dispelled this blackness from his heart and aimed it towards others. That was when he discovered the glory of murder, how beautiful his wrath could be when targeted towards those who deserved it.

But as a child and as a teen, there had been no other outlet but the one tugging at his subconscious now.

It was a method he hadn’t relied on since well before he had died, unless one considered what he had done to his tail. He reflected on those nights now, his mind clinging to the release he had felt watching that band of red fur fall to the floor after spending agonizing minutes sawing through flesh and bone and cartilage to be free of the assaulting appendage he had hated so much. But through the physical pain and agony, there had been a kind of clarity. A release from the feeling of self-hatred, from the helpless way his anger overpowered him during his first few years in Hell.

But Mina loved his tail . . . he couldn’t risk her finding out about this pathetic and empty habit of his. It would break her heart and worse, she would pity him.

Something simpler then, like what he had indulged in as a juvenile.

Before he had time to consider his next actions, the knife was in his hand. Serrated and sharp, with a well-balanced handle that fit perfectly in his grip.

Then he was on the floor, leaning against the wall by the sink, amidst the plants and the humidity and cool, soothing tile, with his jacket off and one sleeve rolled up.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

The knife drew long, shallow lines of red, one after the other, down his forearm and with every cut, he felt a little more clear headed.

. . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

The first slice was already beginning to heal and Alastor watched, fascinated as the blood trickled down his arm from a wound that was no longer there.

His breathing stilled, his sobs subsiding then.

And then he thought of Mina; his dear, sweet, strong Mina, alone upstairs, getting no reprieve from the monsters in her mind, and he began cutting again, starting once more from the top.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

Pause. Another tilt of his head as he considered the flesh stitching itself back together.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

He continued this pattern, over and over again, never bothering to keep count of how many times he had to start over before his powerful, undead body healed itself. He just continued on, waiting for the cloud in his mind to dissipate, for the pain to end, so that he could return to where he knew he needed to be.

Alastor sat there, alone in the bathroom, waiting for that blessed composure and control he had wielded for decades to finally return to him, while Mina slept upstairs, unaware.

____

He didn’t sleep at all the rest of the night, though that wasn’t unusual for him.

What was unusual was that he normally kept himself busy to force himself awake; but that night and into the early morning, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he wanted to. His body was too on fire, raging with hormones, and his mind was too emotionally wrecked.

Alastor was exhausted but he didn’t deserve rest.

Once he was sure Mina would sleep until morning, he added a comforter and a large, comfortable pillow for her, and tucked her in, whispering to her sleeping form once more that he loved her.

Then he kept his distance, afraid of losing control again.

So he sat in the chair he kept by his main workstation and spent the night looking out over the city, occasionally smoking his pipe and going through several glasses of whiskey.

It took a lot for him to get drunk, at least to the point of blacking out, but he did find that it helped dull his senses enough to tame the urges brought on by his rut and it kept a certain organ of his body from acting up quite as often.

By sunrise, he was still fuming, barely keeping his rage below the surface, and feeling more restless than he could recall since ending up in Hell. But he was too exhausted, and a sore combination of hung over and still a bit tipsy, to really be feeling any kind of sexual desire. It was quite the accomplishment, given how deep into his rut he was.

Mina shifted under the covers and when he turned to look at her, she was sitting up, clutching at her head.

At first he was concerned that another bought of possession was taking hold of her but then she groaned and it was just a normal, headache induced moan.

“God my head is killin’ me,” she said, her accent extra thick in her sleepy state.

Alastor summoned a glass of water and brought it over to her, sitting down on the edge of the mattress next to her.

She took it gratefully, taking several large sips before setting it back down.

“I apologize for making you sleep out here. Truly, I would have preferred to let you rest in our bed but . . .”

“No, it’s fine, I was plenty comfortable,” she said, brushing off his apology. “Thank you, for keeping me safe yesterday. I still don’t feel . . . alone in here,” she said, tapping her temple, “but her voice is quieter now. It’s a bit easier to resist the urge to tear at your throat, at least.”

“May I take these off then?” he asked, reaching for the shackle around her neck.

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare.”

“Mina . . .” he said, frowning. “I hate to see you in such things.”

“They help. Really, I think they do.” She sniffed at him. “Have you been drinking?”

“I-“ he started, feeling heat come to his face. “It was a rough night.”

Mina tilted her head, confused for a moment, then her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Your rut! Oh God, Alastor, I’m so sorry. Ugh, this is all my fault,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

Alastor put a hand around one of her wrists and gently pulled her hand away from her face.

“Mina, listen to me,” he said, and he was relieved to see no tears in her eyes, only a bit of shame. “I may be incredibly angry about all of this, but I am neither angry at you, nor do I place any of the blame on you. I only wish I could help you more.”

“Oh, Al’,” she said, twisting her wrist out of his grasp so that she could hold his hand properly, and placed a kiss across the black skin of his knuckles. “You are everything I need you to be. You were strong enough to do what needed to be done to keep me from hurting myself or you.”

“I wish I could be more . . .comforting,” he said, unconsciously wrinkling his nose at his distaste for the word.

Mina laughed softly at him and squeezed his hand. “Why, so I could bite you again?”

Her smile suddenly turned to a frown, and she dropped his hand, scooting backwards across the mattress.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

She held her head again and took several long, steadying breaths. “Just give me a moment.”

After a minute she relaxed a bit and met his eyes sheepishly.

“Troubles not over then, is it?” he asked.

“No,” she sighed, “I’m afraid not. But I can handle it.” After another moment went by, she returned to her train of thought. “Alastor, I love everything that you are. Please, don’t ever try to be anything less or more than your natural self for my sake. I do not want the kind of man that will wallow in pity for me when I am hurt. I want you angry, so be fucking angry, okay? Because I want that bloody bitch dead by the end of tomorrow. You want to show me how much you love me? Let me watch while you tear her to pieces.”

Alastor smiled and for the first time since Mina’s capture, it was a genuine expression. He reached in and pulled her close, kissing her softly on the lips.

It was a small mistake. The intimate moment fueled his rut and Mina’s body tensed, almost losing control of her senses because of the distraction, and they pulled away at the same time, though regretfully.

“Best to save that for afterwards as well then?” Alastor said, irritated at the reminder.

Mina nodded, looking as sad about it as he felt, and again moved herself until she was on the far end of the mattress.

The rest of the day went by a little better.

Alastor had been moved by her words, her appreciation for his character more evident than ever. It soothed his guilty conscience over the night before now that he knew for sure he had behaved the way Mina had wanted him to, even when she couldn’t communicate that to him.

She had several episodes where she nearly lost herself again, but she was able to fend off the mental attacks before they escalated to the point of her screaming and lashing out.

Alastor summoned Nifty again, who was happy to cook and clean, and even helped sooth Mina during some of the more difficult spells. Eventually, it became evident that between the help of Nifty and the presence of his shadow, he would be able to leave Mina’s side long enough to take a shower. He knew he smelled of booze and the shower would give him the opportunity to linger on caring for his physical needs, leaving him more satisfied and calmer than before.

As evening fell and it had been a few hours since Mina’s last episode, Alastor sent Nifty away, and he unhooked Mina from the wall. With his shadow in tow, but her chain still around her neck, Mina disappeared from the control room, daring to use the restroom and take a shower for herself.

Alastor paced around the main room of the radio tower, more nervous than he had let on for Mina’s well-being. He knew it was a risky move but at some point they had to start testing the limits of her sanity and his shadow would alert him if she slipped again into madness.

That was when Abaddon decided to show up.

They stepped through the portal and into the Radio Tower as if they had done it before. Alastor bristled at the audacity.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with no pleasantness in his tone or expression despite his smile.

“Oh, calm down, I’m here for Mina, not you. I have a gift for her,” they replied with a dismissive wave of their hand and began walking around the room, staring openly at the décor. “Where is she?”

“Taking a shower. How did you get in here?” Alastor was in no mood for the angel’s games.

“Really?” they asked, turning around and looking at Alastor with surprise. “She’s already well enough for that? I have to say, I wasn’t expecting her to recover that quickly. But the constitution on that woman has always been impressive, to say the least.”

“How did you get in here?” Alastor repeated.

Abaddon chuckled and then turned back to the small display case of antiques and artwork.

“You may be in a relationship of sorts with her, but Mina is still under my protection. If you didn’t realize I had come here to make sure she would be safe here well before she moved in, then that’s your problem, not mine.”

Alastor snorted. “And you would have been able to stop her if you decided I wasn’t good enough for her?”

“You aren’t good enough,” Abaddon said simply, “but you are safe enough. For now. Are these real shrunken heads?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alastor asked, ignoring Abaddon’s last question.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” they challenged. “That one day you’ll choose something else over Mina and it will either break her heart or get her killed.”

Alastor laughed in their face. “That. Is. Ridiculous. What preposterous scenario does your holiness foresee in which I would ever do that to her? Please, enlighten me.”

“Oh wow, you really believe it, don’t you?” Abaddon said, looking at Alastor as if this was a sudden and fascinating realization. “Cuz I feel like I’m going insane, watching you two. I seem to be the only one around here who knows you are the kind of man to always choose power over everything else. Men like you, demons like you, can never hold onto anything good. One day, you’ll make a move for more power and you’ll leave Mina behind. And I’ll be sure to be there for her when you do.”

“Get out,” Alastor said.

Abaddon had struck a deep and tender nerve, and Alastor could feel his antlers growing already. He couldn’t win a fight against Abaddon, he knew that. He also knew if Abaddon pushed him any further, he wouldn’t be able to help himself in starting one.

“No,” Abaddon said, turning their back on him, unthreatened by the display, and smiled sweetly over their shoulder at him.

Alastor snapped. The room shrunk around him as he increased his height and he felt a number of tentacles begin growing out his back.

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE BEFORE I-“

Alastor stopped in his tracks as his shadow darted into the room, attaching itself at his feet. Within the blink of an eye, he returned back to his normal form, a microsecond before Mina appeared in the room.

He was still breathing hard, his fury held in check by a hair, and he was sure his eyes were betraying him, having either turned to radio dials, or green, or black, or some combination of the three. The blasted things always gave him away.

Mina paused for a moment, looking at Alastor and then at Abaddon, and then rolled her eyes.

She may not know the extent of how much those two hated each other, but she wasn’t blind to the fact that they didn’t care for each other. Alastor being at the peak of his rut didn’t help, so she held no surprise that they had clearly been arguing.

She had dressed thankfully, even adding her usual light sweater that she normally forewent when they were home alone together. Alastor assumed the increased modesty was more to help with the symptoms of his rut rather than any precognition that Abaddon had arrived.

And she still had the shackle around her neck.

“Mina, good to see you feeling more yourself. And so quickly. I’m impressed,” Abaddon said, striding over to her and pulling her in for a hug.

Mina hugged them back but looked over their shoulder at Alastor, her eyes looking concerned as they met his.

He hadn’t moved a muscle, remaining stiff as a board as he watched Abaddon.

“What can I say?” she shrugged as she pulled away. “I’m impressive.”

“Are you really okay?” Abaddon asked, more sincere and serious.

“Not out of the woods yet, apparently,” she said and Alastor’s eyebrows rose up, catching the implication that she had nearly lost control while alone in the shower. “I’m okay,” Mina continued, looking at him, and then gestured at his shadow, “that helped me get through it just fine.”

She then turned to Abaddon. “I’m sure your healing me helped tremendously. And Alastor as been nothing short of wonderful. It was a hard night, for both of us.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you completely,” Abaddon said, and Alastor suppressed the urge to make an audible, disgusted noise at the display of concern from them. “But even direct angelic interference is only an aid when it comes to possession. The fight is ultimately up to you. But, as we can all see, you’re one hell of a fighter. Here,” they said as they held out their hand and a small vial of golden liquid appeared hovering above their open palm, “this should help you win the final round.”

Mina took it, looking at it skeptically.

“This is . . . blood?” she guessed, turning the vial and studying the viscosity of the liquid.

Abaddon nodded. “I was inspired by Kassandra’s power. Now, I’m really not supposed to get involved in the politics of Overlords. It’s frowned upon, as you know. But we’ll just keep this one between the three of us and no one will know.”

“It’ll help me get rid of her?” Mina asked.

“Not exactly. Once you feel like you’re ready to take her on in person, drink this. It’ll increase your powers enough to take on even the strongest Overlords. Just temporarily though. Don’t go taking over the city once your done with Kassandra.”

“You won’t be in my head like she is?”

Abaddon frowned, looking a little insulted. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t do that to you, Mina. Especially not after what you just went through.”

“I know,” Mina said, pressing her palm to her forehead and shaking her head. “I know, I’m sorry. There’s just . . . lots of noise up here right now.”

“Of course,” they said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “No need to be sorry. Anyway, I should get going. Alastor,” they said with a polite nod, “Always good seeing you.”

A portal opened behind them and then turned to walk through it.

“Oh, and Mina?” they said, before they had stepped through. “Kick her ass.”

Then they were gone, the portal closing behind them.

Mina turned to Alastor as soon as they were alone.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“No,” Alastor answered truthfully, his voice deeper and more warped than usual. “I could use a few minutes alone.”

Mina gave a nearly imperceptible nod and Alastor disappeared, leaving her alone with his shadow.

Next Chapter ->

Tag list: @inuhalfdemon @saccharine-nectarine @whoknowswhoiamtoday

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #fanfiction #alastor hazbin #radio demon

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mechazushi · 9 days

Text

God, you're dense [Affectionate].

{a Kn8 short story}

Hoshina wasn't one to play games. Sure, he liked to have fun, but playing with people's emotions and perceptions wasn't something he could get into. He raised himself on the belief that being straight forward on something was the best course of action. If someone couldn't get on the same page as him, that was on them. He worked in a position where the best moves forward and anyone else that can't keep up with him were best left behind. Of course, much like most rules in life, there were exceptions to the rule. His biggest fault to everything he stood for was a tall, jolly, brute of a beast named Kafka. Kafka would be an exception to most everything he would die on a hill for. On the opposite end of the spectrum, however, was one person that he held to the highest accordance of his standards. His brother.

Hoshina made a point not to talk to his brother after he got accepted into the defense force. The restrictions on that got tighter after he got accepted as Mina's Vice Captain. Since before, he still showed up to family gatherings at the least to entertain his mother's concerns about his livelihood in the Third Division. Still, just because he didn't make attempts to contact his family, doesn't mean his family doesn't make attempts to contact him. It was always inevitable (because they don't tell him ahead of time) always with the supposed best of intentions (Because what quality road to hell isn't paved with them) and always at the most inconvenient times (an ability that seemed to be an inbred skill in every other family member). Between catching up on chores that should have been done yesterday, decaf in the communal coffee machine, and his third favorite pen breaking, Hoshina found he wasn't in the mood to talk. So obviously it was a perfect time to be visited by his least favorite person.

Walking down the hallway with a mountain of signed paperwork, his pace was intended to be brisk, but felt sluggish all the same. As he passed an intersection in hallways, he noticed the large frame of a burly friend catching up behind him. As Kafka slowed his pace to match his commander's, Hoshina tilted his face in his direction and flashed what was hoped to be a casual and respectful smile.

"Had a feeling you'd feel like that once I heard about the incident at the coffee machine. Here. Brought this for ya." Kafka said as he handed over a steaming mug of dark tan coffee.

"Oh, I already had coffee today." Hoshina tried to politely decline. he guessed his smile wasn't as bright as it should have been if Kafka could see he was feeling off.

"Yeah, but that was decaf." he insisted as he held the mug by its rim and pointed its handle temptingly toward its intended recipient.

Hoshina stiffed its steam heavily as it wafted under his nose. The smell of a caffeinated brew being much more rejuvenating than the bland swill he choked down this morning. He didn't think twice as he shifted the paper load more securely under his arm and took the offered mug greedily. There was a low, grateful moan as the hot, searing, and just lightly sweetened liquid burned pleasantly down the back of his throat.

'You might've just saved my mental state yet again, Kafka." Hoshina finally muttered after nearly downing half of the mug.

Kafka just chuckled as he walked in time with him, and after a while, held out a hand in an offer to carry the paperwork. Hoshina politely refused again, feeling genuinely better now that he had something more stimulating coursing throughout his system. Walking side by side, they engaged in pleasant idle chatter as they continued down the hallway. Without checking how far they had walked, they neared an area that had a lobby that was sparsely populated. As they got closer, an irritatingly familiar voice rang clear in the partially echoey room.

"Brother Dearest!" Soichiro Hoshina, Soshiro's older brother, was leaning against the desk in the back center of the lobby, relaxing like he deserved the space he was taking up.

"Oh God, why aren't I being delivered from evil like I ask every Shrine visit?" Soshiro muttered as soon as he realized who was occupying the open room with them.

"That's your brother?" Kafka asked as he laid eyes on the visitor.

"Unfortunately." Soshiro said with every letter somehow overflowing with distain and loudly enough to be heard by the other person.

"Come on, brother! You had to have known that one of these visits was to have to happen soon? It's been, what, months since you've even sent at minimum a hello to Mother." Soichino's words were playful, a clear difference in demeanor to the attitude his younger brother was radiating. A second had passed as he clearly gave the plus one an interested once-over after he lifted his sunglasses off his face.

"Well, hello soldier. And who might you be?" A salacious smile slithered coolly over Soichiro's glossy, thin lips. His tongue flicked out and over his teeth teasingly as he continued to stare down Kafka with a darkened sense of interest. Kafka bowed deeply in greeting before he introduced himself.

"Kafka Hibino. Officer of the Third Division." was his militantly clipped response.

"Kafka... Kafka... Where have I heard that name before?" Soichiro drawled out as he shifted over to Kafka's side, poking his shoulder with the arm of his sunglasses with playful emphases.

"He's our Kaiju Number Eight, you salacious cur. Now what are you doing here?" Soshiro snarked as he took another sip of his coffee. His brother made no move to acknowledge the comment as he continued to speak directly to Kafka.

"Kaiju Number Eight, huh! So you're the beast on the battlefield. Is it too much for me to ask if you're a beast anywhere else?" That Cheshire smile never left his face as his eyes turned into a more evaluating gaze.

"Well, I'm the Division's only on call Kaiju. It's pretty safe to say that I'm always the beast when it's needed." Kafka smiled bashfully as a hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Soichiro practically giggled as a hand came up to mischievously smack the other shoulder.

"Look at you! Making out to be something that strong and powerful as a humble brag!" the older brother seemed to slide in closer to Kafka's personal space, with Kafka playing it off as business as usual. Soshiro could feel the handle of the mug creaking under his tightened grip as he looked on at his brother's shameless display.

"Ya know, I had originally cleared out my schedule to take my brother out on a lunch date, but I've just realized he's been a horrible brother and hasn't shown me around the Third Division's main facilities not once!", Soichiro saddled up impossibly closer and even had the audacity to slip a hand around the back of Kafka's forearm, "Why don't I be a good Captain and help clear yours so you can show me around? I'm sure any tour by you would be far more interesting than what he could provide." Soshiro watched as he saw the offer being sealed with an obviously flirty wink.

"Well, I'd be happy to! That is, if it's alright with my Vice Captain?" Kafka asked as he looked innocently toward the younger brother, seemingly unaware or unaffected by the attention he was currently being given.

"No Kafka, that won't be necessary, If my brother is going to come out all this way to see me, then he's just going to have to settle for my company alone." Soshiro said as he placed his paperwork and his coffee mug on the abandoned reception desk.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe some other time?" Kafka asked as he looked at the older Hoshina brother.

"Such a shame. Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer." Soichiro tittered as he patted the other side of the forearm he was still holding onto. The two brothers watched intently as Kafka turned around and walked down the hallway. Soshiro waited until he was out of every possible hearing range before he decided to speak.

"Alright, you bottle-platinum harlot. What the hell was that display all about?" Soshiro made no attempts to restrain his irritation at his brother's expense. He had no idea what game his brother was trying to play with him, but he wouldn't stand for it since it seemed to involve a very close and personal friend of his.

"I don't know what you mean." Soichiro said as he kept tittering. His posture and demeanor revealing to his younger brother that there was a plan brewing behind those evil eyes.

"I will not have you seducing my strongest man over to your division while I'm here." Soshiro commanded as he leveled a piercing gaze at the other person.

"Excuse me, 'Your man'? I'm sorry, but I didn't see a ring on his finger." Soichiro teased as he turned to face his brother.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, you vile rake." Soshiro spat the words out in an attempt to dissuade any further conversation on the topic.

"So catty today, are we brother? I was simply taking in the local selection. I'm not surprised you're interested in him." Soichiro chatted as he teasingly bit on the arm of his sunglasses.

"I also see you've decided to take up slander as a hobby since last we met." Soshiro grumbled as he found himself forced into a position where he had to talk to his brother in person for more than a minute.

"Oh, please! You know our family has a history of liking them sweet and dumb. How do you think Mother's marriage has lasted this long?" Soichiro continued as he leveled a knowing stare at him.

"If you're going to keep insinuating things that don't exist, I'm going to order you to cancel the lunch date and leave." the younger brother retorted as he turned around to drink the last sips from the coffee mug.

"What do you think I'm insinuating?" Soichiro purred as his sight never left his brother.

"Don't toy with me today, you troglodytic trollup. I am in no mood to bat around this string of yarn you're trying to spin here." Soshina kept snapping back as he took the opportunity to avoid eye contact as he shuffled around the stack of papers.

"Why all the denial, Brother Dearest? Especially since we're so far from Egypt. Besides, it's not slander saying you like a coworker as if your interactions weren't displayed all over the news two weeks ago." The grin broke into a full blown, toothy smile of superiority as the Captain of the Sixth Division draped himself over the desk's top next to Soshiro.

"What... interactions?" the Vice Captain hissed as he slowly turned his head to side-eye his brother

"Should I reenact it for you?" Soichiro giggled before flopping onto his back and dramatically fainting, "Oh! I seem to have taken a terrible fall and broken both of my legs! Oh, is there some dark, handsome, Knight in living armour that can princess-carry my oh so fragile body to the farthest fucking ambulance on scene and completely bypass three others that were unoccupied and were going to take me to the same fucking hospital!" It was clear that he was taking a massive amount of joy retelling his version of events that he saw on the news as his voice raised in volume with every reveal.

"I didn't break my legs, I dislocated my ankles! What would you have me do, walk?" Soshiro started to match his brother's volume and had now fully turned to him to confront this problem of point-of-views head on.

"The cameras clearly show you two having a conversation where it shows you convincing him to carry you!" The two of them were so close to each other's faces now their noses could touch.

"I was trying to convince him not to!" Soshiro returned.

"Because the cameras were rolling?" Soichiro asked.

"Yes!" his brother answered.

"AND BECAUSE YOU TWO ARE IN LOVE! Why else be camera shy about being carried around in public?" The eldest returned triumphantly as he poked him in the chest.

"NO." Soshiro shouted back as he shoved his brother backwards, "We are not in love! What part of this do you think it's okay to date someone like him?"

"Oh don't act like you can't because he's under your position. He makes his own precedent as he breathes! And you are the right type of rebellious, attention craving, delinquent punk that would absolutely fall for someone that is perfect for you in all the right ways, while also him being a human anomaly in every sense of the word! He turns into something our family has been training it's young to kill for centuries so of course you're going to deviate from the norm and be practically head over heels for him!" The Captain couldn't stop himself from cackling as his lungs quaked from talking for so long without breath.

There wasn't anything left on the matter that Soshiro could say to make his brother change his mind, so he decided to let his fists do the talking for him as he sent a vicious right hook. His fist connected to his brother's left eye and caught him off guard for a second. Before he could speak out against the assault, the younger brother wasted no time in jumping onto his brother and throwing his fists left and right. The two soon became a mass of tangled limbs and colorful curse words on the floor. It wasn't like this for long as two other people came across the fight and helped break up the fray.

"Alright, alright! Break it UP!" You two are grown up men, and Defense Force officers at that! ACT LIKE IT!" Okonogi reprimanded them as Aoi held them off the ground by their jacket collars.

"Yes, Okonogi." The brothers said in unison. As they were set back on the ground, they straightened their outfits and waited to see if their new company would leave. When they didn't, Soichiro decided to speak what was left on his mind anyway.

"The lunch date is still on, by the way. Mother's orders. How about I give us an hour to cool down and we try this whole 'conversation' thing again?" he tried to say with as much possible conviction in his smile. Soshiro just glared violently as he picked up the stack of papers from the desk.

"I do what I damn well please, you leporid bunk bunny." he said as he stormed off. Everyone watched as he walked away before his older brother spoke up again.

"He'll be fine."

𓈒 𑁍 𓈒

It was a little after seven thirty before Hoshina felt fine enough to interact with anyone. Spending some time in the gym helped him feel better after dealing with the Lunch Date From Hell. It also helped that he got to meet his favorite punching bag for sparring.

"Look -huff- I get you -huff- don't like your brother -huff-, but did you really -huff- need to literally -huff- kick my ass?" Kafka's lungs heaved after spending what felt like hours defending himself from his Vice Captain's volley of blows.

"Ya snooze, ya loose Kafka. Intense training is for your own good." Hoshina quipped back as he walked over to his duffle for water bottles. Kafka shambled behind him slowly and sat down on the bench the bag was next to.

"Intense training, my entire bruised ass. That last chokehold felt personal." Kafka began to regulate his breathing by the time Hoshina made it over with the water bottles.

As Hoshina drank from his, he subtly tried to look at Kafka as he poured some of the bottle's contents onto himself. He watched as the water made his partner's bangs stick to his forehead at odd angles and made a swift attempt to cool his fiery red cheeks. Hoshina didn't let his imagination run too far away from him as he thought about Kafka looking worn out and sweaty for a different reason. Of course he denied everything that was said earlier that was concerning the situation between him and Kafka. Mainly because it all implied that Kafka felt the same way he did. Had it been a complete stranger talking to him this morning, it would have shocked everyone that knew him once they heard how different his answers would have been.

As Kafka finished rubbing the cool water into his face and straightened his back and arms out into an intense looking stretch, Hoshina forced himself to look away from the rippling of muscle and the straining of his tank top around said muscles. In moments like this, when he was sure no one would be looking or they were alone, Hoshina liked to play a little game with Kafka. It wasn't one that you could win with points or anything. Hell, some days it made Hoshina feel like all he did was lose by playing, but he couldn't deny that conniving little twitch that begged for him to play over and over again. All so he could see that dumb little smile.

"Still improving as slow as always." Hoshina said after a minute of relaxing on the bench.

"Hey, at least I am still improving, right?" Kafka returned as he looked back at his Vice Captain.

There was a smile, sure, but it wan't big. He could do better.

"Can't say I don't find you to be consistent at least 1% of the time." Hoshina offered as a response, deciding to bring up a well used joke between them. He turned back to look out at the empty gym in front of them.

"God, I still haven't gotten higher than that, haven't I?" Kafka chuckled out of the side of his mouth.

"It was a good thing we found out you were a kaiju when we did. Could you imagine what would have happened if you couldn't raise that percentage up high enough in three months?" Hoshina thought the comment sounded funnier in his head, but once he heard it out loud he wanted to smack himself for it. Everyone knew that it was a horrible thought, thinking about Kafka not being around anymore. Even that was something Hoshina couldn't bring himself to deny or joke about.

"I do every day." Kafka sighed heavily, "Everyday I wake up here." He closed his eyes for a second as he smiled softly, his head coming to rest against the back wall the bench was against.

Hoshina turned back to look at him, taking Kafka's moment of vulnerability to look at him fully this time. He thought about it too. A life in the Defense Force where he didn't get to see Kafka everyday. A life where he didn't bring him coffee or hear his laugh or have drinks with him after work hours. Hoshina could feel his heart squeeze at the thought of Kafka not being in the Defense Force, or worse, suddenly living at a different Division. Being close by technicality, but feeling oh so very far.

"Did you notice my brother was flirting with you at all?" Hoshina felt himself ask before he could take the words back. He felt himself brace for the answer in the brief moments in between his heartbeats.

"Wait... really?" Kafka asked with genuine interest. Hoshina could feel his face twist into something between curiosity and mild disgust. Kafka couldn't tell he was being flirted with? And was okay with it coming from his brother?

"Ye-yeah?" Hoshina returned hesitantly.

"You sure? 'Cuz I mean... wow. He's... actually interested? In me?" Kafka's smile grew bigger and more wonky as he processed what he was told.

"You're okay with this?" Hoshina questioned incredulously. He could not believe what he was seeing, and was actively praying that this wasn't the case.

"Are you kidding? Of course! You're brother is frickin' hot!" Kafka replied with joy, "Is he, like, still around? I mean, I know he's not here kinda around, but I mean, is he like, nearby? Like in a hotel or something? Nah, that would be creepy. Oh! Could you let me have his number?" Kafka prattled on as Hoshina continued to become more and more disgusted. Sure, he was a little happy to hear that Kafka was cool with being hit on by guys, (and clearly reciprocated the sentiment) but felt absolutely horrified at hearing Kafka wanting his brother's number. So much so that he immediately stood on the bench seat so he could get a good enough vantage to stomp on Kafka to stop his train of thought.

"You! Will! NOT! Be! Dating! My! BROTHER!" Hoshina shouted out between the stomping.

"Jesus! And here I thought you wouldn't be having a problem with me liking guys! Yah know, since you told me about it!" Kafka shouted back as he tried to defend himself from the onslaught.

"I don't have a problem with you dating guys! I have a problem with you dating my brother!" Hoshina said as he pressed his foot down firmly onto Kafka's hands that were protecting his head.

'Well then, who would you rather have me date?" Kafka returned rhetorically.

"Me for starters!" Hoshina finally admitted. Once he did, he let the pressure off of his foot and just stayed in the position for a hot minute, feeling as awkward as a school girl admitting to her first crush. Kafka just held onto the foot as he looked up at his commander with wide, unbelieving eyes. All Hoshina could bring himself to do was look away, his cheeks flushing hot and bright. Kafka helped lower the foot down as he got up from his seat to face him from the front.

"Have... have you been flirting with me too?" Kafka asked. Hoshina still couldn't look at him or answer, so his cheeks answered for him.

"How long have you been flirting with me?" Kafka asked again.

"Two... two years." Hoshina answered quietly.

"We've known each other for two years." Kafka responded. Hoshina still hadn't made a move, only crossed his arms defensively.

"YOU'VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME SINCE WE MET?" Kafka shouted as he made the realization.

"To be fair, I don't flirt like a normal person and you clearly can't read context clues." Hoshina said as he finally regained some control over his mouth. He just wished he had better control over what it said.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Kafka sounded incredulous at the thought of how he could have been dating the most amazing person on base before now, had be been able to read between the lines.

" I kept thinking it was funny?" Hoshina responded in a shy, quivering voice as more blood rushed to his face and made it redder.

"Okay, now I have to ask. What about me do you like? Do you think I'm handsome, or do you really just like to think I'm funny?" Kafka questioned as he waved his hands around animatedly.

"Honestly? I just really like that you're funny." Hoshina said as he relaxed and playfully shrugged. Now feeling better about having all of this out in the open.

" So, just, fuck my face then." Kafka said in a sarcastically irritated manner while turning around and waving his arms.

"I would if you'd stop talking." Hoshina accidentally let slip.

He wasn't ashamed of saying it, but probably should have found a better time to say it. It didn't seem to matter anyway as Kafka took a second to stop his flailing and slowly turned around to face his commander again. A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes darkened at the play on words they stumbled into.

"Well alright then." Kafka chuckled darkly as he strode over to where Hoshina was still standing. He grabbed his legs and threw him over his shoulder, holding onto Hoshina's calves for dear life as he carried his thrashing lover out of the gym.

"Wha-what do you think you're doing?" Hoshina cried as he tried to look back at his kidnapper. Kafka returned the most intensely flirtatious side-eye back at him as they walked out of the gym.

"Moving training to your place, so you can properly shut me up."

"Wha-what, no dinner first?" Hoshina stuttered nervously as he continued to be paraded down the hall on Kafka's shoulder. He got even more nervous as Okonogi slid past his line of sight and watched them walk away.

"You've been flirting with me for two years. Dinner can wait." Kafka growled as the other hand came up and audibly smacked Hoshina on the ass.

#I consider myself impressed that I managed to come up with four different words to substitute wh*re..#I like to think that both Soichiro and their mother are fluent in “Fighting as a Love Language terminology”#i.e. Fighting back to back against each other means you two are fated soul mates #and carrying someone off the battlefield means you're married #so when the two of them saw the news footage of Hoshina being carried to the ambulance they FREAKED.#Their mother immediately commissioned Soichiro to visit his brother and instigate the two of them getting together.#Soichiro did it without hesitation and was the one to put decaf in the coffee machine as a ploy.#I was going to write an after credit scene Of Soichiro talking to their mother where that was revealed #but I thought this was going to get done in a day like my last one and it didn't #so now I feel like I've worked on this longer than I should have.#their argument feels so British coded when I read it in my head for some reason.#it doesn't help that Hoshina starts off by calling his brother a “Salacious Cur”#It f*cking sucked writing the argument too because I can't not call Soshiro by his last name (It feel wrong to me for some reason)#But he's talking to his brother that has his last name so now I HAVE to use their first name #and what the f*ck is the name SOICHIRO anyway?!?!!?#I still had way too much fun finding subtle ways of making him come across as flirty.#Long post #short story #fanfiction #kaiju 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju number 8 #kafka hibino #soshiro hoshina #Kafhoshi #hoshikaf #kaijuu number 8 #kaiju no.8 #kaiju no 8 #kaijuu 8 gou

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