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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

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A Taste of the Divine - Chapter 1

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Yakuza!True Form!Sukuna x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. slow burn. Monster fuckers unite. Dark elements. Kidnapped reader. Cursing, graphic depictions of violence, implied violence against women but not shown, mentions of blood and gore, Sukuna is aroused by violence. Sorry if I missed others.

Summary: Sukuna is the feared leader of the Itadori clan. There are rumors that he uses a pet beast to get rid of his enemies. Nothing but rooms and locations full of blood and body parts. He happens about a group of men who dared to cross his territory without permission. When Sukuna runs across you, he suddenly finds himself unable to kill you. Not until he figures out who you are and why you were so important as to get kidnapped. He takes over being your captor, whisking you away to his property, where he proceeds to play with his food.

AO3 Link

Word count: 5,763k

A/N: Could not get this idea out of my head to save my life. I hope you enjoy. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @westside-rot @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @umber-cinders @chaos-4baby @soft-persephone

Rain beat against the windows in a steady stream. Cold, neon lights shone in a haze just beyond, painting the sides of the building sunset purple and cerulean. Ads played lazily on the billboards, reminding people that even while sleeping, it was never too late to buy.

Rival clan Kamo had members holed up in a shithole penthouse apartment, awaiting the signal for when they could move. They spent the first few days playing cards and board games. They were strictly forbidden from turning on their phones. From going outside. From doing anything fucking fun.

Yet, after a few days when they were tired of talking to each other, it was only a matter of time before someone broke the rules. There were only four of them. Each low tier members of the Kamo clan, some not even worthy of the association.

They were a low-key crew, handling situations that required stealth and finesse. Like babysitting a sweet little morsel tied up in the bathroom. They were instructed not to talk to you, touch you, or breathe in your direction.

Days passed and the men’s eyes lingered a beat too long, licking their lips as their thoughts ran away on their face, or rubbing their hands together as if they could imagine what your skin would feel like.

While on mission, they used no names. So instead, they numbered themselves. One, the leader, was bald with a stern frown permanently etched onto his face. He currently held the biggest pot of money on his side of the table, flipping through cards with masterful precision.

Three was to his right, a man with long hair that reached well past his shoulders. It was swept back into a half ponytail, the rest running down his back like a black river. Two was next, a shifty and nervous sort of man who couldn’t sit still longer than a minute. Eyes were always on a swivel around the room, looking for potential threats.

Though if Four had anything to say about it, he’d say that Two was snorting the White Dragon and they were left to suffer through it. Four held the worst hand with his cards, but he kept his face neutral. He could bluff with the likes of Three, but One might see through him.

A thump on the roof made them all look up. All except for One who continued to stare at his cards. Two sat up in his seat, moaning and chewing on his nails. He shook his head back and forth, getting more agitated by the minute.

“I told you we should have checked. This doesn’t feel right,” Two said.

Three sighed and rolled his eyes. “You say that about every drop of water that hits the roof.”

Two shook his head once more. “That wasn’t a raindrop,” he said and pointed to the ceiling. Four looked at him, annoyed. This mission was freaky enough without the ghost stories. He took a swig of his whiskey, following the burn down his chest since it was the first interesting thing tonight.

He stood up, getting ready for Two’s freakout to overtake the night. First it was the bird that flew into the window. Then it was the nail he found under his mattress. He went on rants about ill omens and angering the elder gods.

“Then what was it, genius?” Three sighed, tossing down his cards because he also knew that Two was just getting started. A crackle from the lit fireplace drew Four’s attention. He stared at it and briefly wondered if dying by fire was worth the pain.

“We’re too close to his border. How sure are you that this is on our side?” Two asked.

One leaned back from the table, tossing down his cards and rolling his neck. “I know how to do my job,” One said. He folded his arms and stared straight ahead. If Four wasn’t mistaken, he was pretty sure that Four was a hidden synth. Nothing but clockwork and oil pumping through his system.

The first thing Four was going to do when the mission was over, was take his payment and go find a warm pair of legs to sleep between. Maybe this was burnout. Maybe he needed to check out that app his sister sent to him about that crap. She always thought his stress was too high. Always going on about going on walks or getting a pet or doing anything else that didn’t involve being a gangster.

Heh. He owed his baby sister a call soon. Their last conversation ended too quickly when she started talking about an asshole teacher and how Four offered to kill him. Or at least persuade him to watch his fucking mouth.

“How do you not know who Sukuna is? He’s the leader of the Itadori clan,” Two said.

Three laughed obnoxiously and clapped his hands. “Since when do you believe in fairytales? No one’s seen or heard of that made up bullshit. You really think that he has so much curse energy, that he’s lived this long? That he has a secret army of beasts who rip his enemies to shreds?” Three continued laughing, his chair creaking from Three settling into it.

Two cracked a smile and Four poured himself another drink. The first two clearly weren’t doing the job. Four moved back to the table, bored out of his skull. In fact, he should probably check on you. He wouldn’t get paid if you went on and died on him.

Instead of sitting, Four changed directions and went towards the bathroom. The penthouse was decorated in slate gray and mustard. There were expensive paintings on the paneled walls, ceramic statues of bodies twisting, imported plants from all over the world every few feet. It was a pompous, underhanded way to show that the rich could buy anything, even nature.

Four moved down the wide hallway, big enough to park a sedan in and still have room on both sides. He knocked on the door once and your answering gasp was enough confirmation that he needed. Still..,

He opened the door, turned on the light, and looked down at you. You were on your side, curled up on the plush bathroom rug like a pathetic pet. Your sweater was stained and dirty, your light colored jeans worse for wear. The tennis shoes used to be a light color, but were now so dirty that it was hard to tell. The blindfold was still secure on your face.

“You dead yet?” Four asked.

“Untie me and find out, bitch,” you spat at him.

He laughed, tempted to kick you in your fat ass stomach for that. But he doubted you’d feel it. “I’d watch that mouth of yours,” he said.

“Or else you’ll try to stick your shrimp dick in my mouth? Might take me a few tries but I’ll bite clean off if you do,” you growled.

Four laughed again and shook his head. “Never fails to make me laugh, bitch,” he said. He turned off the light and slammed the door. His anger at last getting the best of him. Stupid bitch. He had half a mind to break that reckless streak of yours. To fill your mouth so you couldn’t talk back for once.

You’d been nothing but a pain in his ass since they kidnapped you. You fought like a hellcat, scratching and biting. They had to punch you in the face a few times to knock you out and then drag your fat ass to the van. When you came to in the bathroom, you gave everyone a mouthful. And had been an annoying asshole the last few days.

Four rubbed his shoulders and walked away. He needed the money more than he needed to teach you your place. As Four walked down the hallway, he heard a series of thumps that made him falter in his steps. He looked between each of the closed doors, sealed up like a damn museum in this place.

He walked closer to one door, where he thought the thumps were coming from. He strained his hearing, awareness searching for anything out of the norm. Two and Three were still arguing in the living room but Four was too far away to hear what stage they were in. If Two was standing on the table and arguing his point or covering his ears and screaming loud over the other person.

Four opened the door he was in front of, arms up, prepared for anything to pop out. The room was dark but the window was open, letting watery moonlight shine across the carpeted floor. Looked to be some kind of guest room, all done up in cobalt blue. Four did a cursory sweep, just in case.

He turned around to the shadowy figure before him and jumped, screaming out before realizing that he faced a mirror. His heart skipped a beat as it caught up to the realization that he wasn’t in danger. He stalked closer to the mirror, chuckling as he confirmed with his eyes that he got scared by his own reflection. The other men couldn’t know this. They’d see him as weak and he couldn’t have that.

He tapped the mirror once, for extra confirmation. Two’s conspiracy theory rants were starting to get to him. Next thing he knew, there’ll be Sukuna’s pet beast right behind him. He chuckled at his own thoughts and looked at his reflection. It became darker so he leaned in, opening his mouth to look at his teeth.

The darkness kept going, almost otherworldly so, and Four felt a menacing, thick presence at his back. The aura was indescribably heavy, bowing him at the shoulders. Going lower still. He had just enough energy to turn his head and stare into a pair – no two pairs – oh god – there’s too many red eyes staring at him.

He opened his mouth to let out a scream but a slice to the neck cut it off. His hands flew to his neck, warm spray of blood soaking his fingers. There was nothing to compare to the horror of feeling the heat from your own blood outside of your body. Hands stained red and sticky. Four stared into those red eyes and his last thought was of how Two was actually fucking right this time.

One opened his eyes with a silent gasp. “We are not alone,” he said. He hopped from his seat, flying to the edge of the living room where they had abandoned the majority of their weaponry. They each held their guns at the base of their spines, tucked into their pants. But the bigger weapons lay across the table, thrown haphazardly. They had gotten too comfortable.

The menacing aura was enough to choke him but he kept his mind on the mission. This had turned from a simple kidnapping to a game of survival. No amount of money was worth this, losing his life to the boogeyman. His people had forgotten the old world. Forgotten that the myths were merely legends once upon a time.

The lights shut off as his hands closed around his semi-automatic. Two and Three finally stopped their incessant fighting and grabbed their guns. Gone was the twitching, sketchy conspiracy nut and in its place was a ruthless killer. A ruthless kobun for the Kamo clan.

Three took measured, slow steps around the room. The rain seemed to increase in intensity. But that was only because it was quiet now. The water slapped against the windows. Purple and blue neon light shone in from the windows giving them just enough light to see each other. Or see anything that may have entered the penthouse.

If they somehow found a way to survive the night, they’d have no answers on how the beast got in. How the beast found them. Or how Sukuna even knew that they were on the this side of the boundary.

One hadn’t lied. He was very good at his job. This building was right on the cusp of Sukuna’s territory but it was decidedly in Kamo’s territory. If this was Sukuna’s infamous beastie, then Sukuna was in the wrong this time. Honorless scum.

One swept through the living room, keeping his semi-automatic up and at the ready. He communicated silently with the other two. Where the hell was Four? If he was back there missing with you at a time like this, he’d kill Four himself.

He took off in your direction, intending to check and make sure that you hadn’t escaped. Reaching the door, he opened it and heard you gasp. “What’s going on?” You asked.

“Shut up,” he hissed. If you were too fucking stupid to understand what was going on, then the least you could do was shut that fucking mouth up for once. He closed the door and continued checking rooms, wondering if Four went out onto the terrace for a smoke break.

He made his way forward, the crack of a door catching his eye. He used his gun to nudge the door open, the room too dark to see much of anything. Still, something was off about this room. Some lingering aura that beckoned him even as his brain was screaming for him to turn around and run and never look back.

His boot squelched on the carpet and he looked down. His mind couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His mind said he was looking at a mangled hand but his eyes only saw blood. Red.

There were pieces everywhere. Half a foot. An elbow. One stepped backwards. The evil aura in this room was astounding. The rumors were true. They were actually true. Sukuna did have a beast in his employ and it was here to eat them all.

He turned and ran to the door only to be blocked by a massive arm across the doorway. The massive tree trunk sized arm split in two. Oh god. There were four arms. Red eyes crept open slowly and a wide grin split open in the middle of the beasts’ belly. The monster stood on two legs, at least seven foot tall, and it chuckled. It laughed.

“You’re far from home,” the beast said.

“You’re in Kamo’s territory. When Kamo hears about this…”

The beast chuckled and the deep rumbling laugh was like the crack of lightning outside the windows. “Who’s gonna tell him?” The beast asked.

One was no stranger to fear and he would not pretend as if he were not capable of it. But even as he trembled and gulped around the painful lump in his throat, he stared at the many-eyed beast and lifted his chin.

“Your lord has no honor,” One said. Sweat gathered at his brow, tickling his forehead and he fought the urge to wipe it away. To move.

The beast laughed again. And laughed still as he picked One up as if he weighed no more than a feather. It laughed and laughed as it took big chunks out of One, chewing on him like a snack. Blood sprayed One’s face, hot and sticky and stinging his eyes. His screams were no match to the sound of that maniacal laughter.

You

The second scream had to be the worst one. Maybe because it was coupled by the sound of bone-chilling laughter. Something cold and cruel. Your arm was killing you from laying on your side but you were finding it difficult to roll over in this bathroom.

The nauseating perfume clung to your nostrils and made it hard to breathe around its cloying scent. Why couldn’t these idiots kill you and call it a day? You hated being at their mercy. Hated the way they casually joked about slitting your throat or teaching you how to respect your betters.

Assholes. You’d be a liar if you weren’t enjoying the sounds of their screams. But at the same time, you didn’t want to meet whatever the hell that thing was. You prayed that you’d remain invisible, small, insignificant. Not worth whatever that thing’s gaze was. Surely it was some sort of vengeful god. Malevolent beast come to feast on the world.

You couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Couldn’t make a sound. In case the beast was capable of turning the knob, opposable thumbs letting you know that the beast was far scarier than previously believed, you wanted to remain on the floor. Better yet, you needed to get somewhere you could hide.

Your options were limited. There were no other sounds outside your door. You knew that you were in the bathroom so you rubbed against the floor until you could heave yourself into a sitting position. You were out of breath, but you had to keep going. Had to get into the tub.

Hell, what was worse? The silence or the screams?

You got to your feet and steadied yourself. You were woozy. It’d been too long since your last meal. Your fault. You couldn’t take your death lying down. You fought and cursed and insulted their dick sizes until you were blue in the face. They retaliated by withholding food.

You’d take that over the way they knocked you out. Hitting you like a grown man. Your jaw still stung from it. Your skin would surely be darker with a bruise the size of a fist. The way their hands wandered while they checked you for weapons, tied your hands behind your back, and shoved you into a musty van. How they laughed over your figure as they pretended to struggle with tossing you into the bathroom.

You didn’t know when they put the blindfold on but had to be when you were out cold. There was no telling what they could do while you were sleep so you learned to sleep lighter, waking up at any little sound. So far they weren’t hurting you. You couldn’t imagine why. However, you’d have to stop provoking the last guy that came in here. He was perilously close to breaking and you didn’t want to be around for it.

You felt behind you for the edge of the tub. Rich people’s apartments like these usually had a tub on one side and a shower on the other. As if it was some subconscious misogyny bullshit about women taking baths and men taking showers.

You scooted further down, tennis shoes scraping against the tile as you tried to figure out how you were going to get into the tub safely and quietly. You weren’t even sure that you’d be hidden from the door. But you had to do something. Had to try at least.

You lifted one leg and got into the tub as another blood curdling scream split the air. You were shaking with fear while at the same time feeling vindicated. Fuck those bastards. If you’d survive, you’d never take your life for granted again.

The sound of wet splatter hit the walls and you wondered briefly if a window opened somewhere. If there wasn’t rain pouring all over fancy furniture. You got your other foot into the tub and then sank to your knees, getting down into the wide tub and turned on your side.

It wasn’t perfect. And you didn’t want to think about what kind of germs you were kneeling in. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

You waited. You jumped at every sound. Every scrape. Every knock of wood. There was a final scream as the last of your captors went silent. His screams still echoed in your ears.

Your heartbeat thumped steadily, shifting your awareness inward. You ached all over. Your shoulder was killing you. Your stomach pains twisting your insides. You had a faint ache in your foot and you weren’t sure if you sprang it during your last escape attempt.

How the hell did you end up here?

It was the question that rang through your mind every so often when you weren’t thinking about escape. How did you end up kidnapped, taken, and held against your will like this?

And the sick part? No one would know. You had a job where you set your own hours, the perfect introverted job. You didn’t have to talk to others when you didn’t want to. Didn’t have to set alarms for when you went to sleep or stayed up. You followed your body’s natural rhythm and was damn happy with your solitary life. You had friends, but they knew about your need to disappear sometimes. Go radio silent while you work on your special projects. Or pigged out in front of the TV.

So here you were, stuck between how you were going to escape or how you ended up in this position. You lived a normal life. You didn’t go out of your way to hurt others. You gave money to the homeless and smiled at the janitorial staff. You weren’t perfect, but fuck. You didn’t deserve this shit.

Thumping steps traveled down the hall and you clasped your lips shut, throat shaking with your need to cry. You needed to alert someone, anyone, to come and help you. Or at least untie you so you could have a fighting chance. How pathetic it was to die on your back, tied up, and at the beasts’ mercy.

The steps got closer. That aura. It was so intimidating. Sweat gathered on your brow, fear like icy spikes in your stomach. There was no way that you were getting out of this alive. With an aura like that, the beast could likely smell the fear on you. Lead it straight to you as if you had rang the dinner bell.

You were so stupid. You should have used your remaining time to find a way to cut through the zip ties behind your back. Found a pair of scissors or clippers. Anything to get your hands free. Ah well. Didn’t matter this time. Because whatever it was that was outside of your door, you had no way of defeating such a creature.

Sukuna

You smelled delicious. After dispensing with the four-man crew that dared cross into his territory earlier in the week while traveling to this dump, Sukuna licked blood from his lips as he shrunk down from his true form.

He hadn’t intended on striking against the Kamo clan for at least another two weeks. He’d been in the middle of his usual reconnaissance, following the habits of his enemies before pinpointing when to strike.

These four were barely worth the effort. A small time, petty offense. But the rules were the rules and he had to enforce them. He grinned, picking meat from his teeth as he thought how these idiots still haven’t figured out that there is no Sukuna’s beast. He was the beast.

He had no qualms about eating his enemies into submission. Fighting for every strip of land, every pulse of illegal activity in the country, every dollar to join his coffers. And he’d be damned if even one cockroach stepped an antenna out of line.

What he did not expect was the tasty scent of fear wafting from the bathroom. A stowaway. The imbeciles had hidden you somehow. Oh, that delicious scent. He followed it, already growing hungrier by the second.

His black suit was pasted to him, slick with the blood of the four insignificant humans. Let their people find them like this. Ripped apart, Let the rumors grow. The beast. The beast.

He approached the door and he sensed that you sensed him. Your body was shaking, teeth clacking. He could hear you through the door. He was getting harder by the minute just thinking about it. He pictured where he’d start first. If he’d bite your neck. Or somewhere he could still make you scream. He wondered what you’d sound like.

He pushed on the door and it gave way under his hand. He left a bloody handprint on the door as he swept into the dark room. His eyes adjusted to the dark, detail starting to fill in as his eyes relaxed.

There you were. Sukuna chuckled evilly as he approached. You were too damn good. Each second brought a fresh wave of fear skittering down your spine. He inhaled deeply, mouth salivating with the thought of ripping you to pieces.

You were cowed in the bathtub. Sukuna grinned wider before he really took you in. Your hands were bound behind your back. You also had a blindfold on. Your clothes were dirty and stained, a strange odor emanating from you. Your shoes looked like you’d been marched around in mud for the past few days. Your hair was wild and unkempt, riotous thick hair escaping your plaits.

His smile disappeared. You had already been kidnapped. You weren’t part of their crew. You were a victim. Sukuna’s curiosity peaked. It wasn’t every day that he ran into this situation. He was no hero. Whether lord or pauper, a tasty meal was a tasty meal. But the urge to eat you was growing fainter the longer he took in every detail he could about you.

What did you do in order to get kidnapped by these thugs? What was so special about you? You’d clearly been here a few days and you were still alive, untouched. You were important to them for a reason.

“Well?” You asked.

Sukuna was taken aback by the sound of your voice. He could smell your fear and yet…you dared to talk to him?

“Quit playing around and kill me, I don’t have all day. Or night. Whenever it is,” you huffed.

Shocked, Sukuna laughed. Hell, he hadn’t been this surprised in a millenia. “Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m a nobody. Are you going to kill me or not?” You asked.

Sukuna chuckled again, sucking blood from his finger. “Pretty eager to die,” he commented.

“Not very eager to wonder when it’s coming. The wait is the worst part,” you said.

There was a hitch in your voice. As if you were no stranger to waiting or being disappointed. Sukuna tilted his head. This was bizarre. It’d been a long time since he felt like this, interested in something other than eating at the moment. You couldn’t see him. You were right to be afraid but still had the audacity to talk to him like that.

He had half a mind to break your spine here and now. Rip your head from your shoulders. Suck the life from your heart. His fingers twitched with the insatiable need to shred. Throat burned with a hunger that never truly faded.

He stepped closer to you, stared down at your pathetic form on your side in this tub. It’d be so easy to lift his boot and crush your skull. So easy to snuff the spark of life that kept you animated.

But he found himself hesitating. Withdrawing his presence. You gasped audibly, catching your breath. It was a wonder you held out as long as you did. He’d seen people have entire heart attacks after enduring his aura for too long. But not you.

“Who are you and why did those men hold you captive?” Sukuna asked.

“I don’t know. I told you, I’m a nobody. Just an insignificant bug,” you said.

A burning in Sukuna’s chest made him want to correct you. To ensure that you’d never talk like this about yourself where he could fucking hear. He grimaced and scowled. What the hell kind of thoughts was he having?

He lifted his hand, reaching out over your form. He’d just snatch you up like he did the others. You were their victim and it wasn’t terribly your fault for crossing boundary lines with them, but well. He couldn’t let you go.

What if you talked? What if your harmless story caught on the news like wildfire, spreading, until the legend of Sukuna’s pet beast was no longer feared. The real gangsters knew. No one fucked with him or his clan and lived to tell the tale.

He had to end you right here and now. Go on and do it. Be done with it. Separate your head from your body. Again, he was unable to harm you. There were too many questions in his head. He was having fun not being the smartest person in the room at the moment.

He growled and grabbed the front of your sweater. You yelled out, kicking your legs as Sukuna lifted you higher, more at eye level with himself. You scrambled, kicking and kicking.

“Put me down!” You screamed.

Sukuna laughed. “Aren’t you scared?” He asked.

“I’m terrified!” You yelled.

“Then how do you bark orders with the same mouth that should be begging for mercy?” He asked.

“What mercy? Go on and kill me and be done with this bullshit,” you said. You were still flailing but no longer screaming in fear.

You were fun! He scanned your body, looking for some source of trickery. Some hidden agenda. He stretched his awareness searching for a hint of your aura to reveal something that explained you. Some part of your genetic makeup, some part of your clothing or jewelry able to repel creatures like him.

Nothing. You wore nothing, you had nothing, you were nothing. And he still had questions. He wanted to know more. His thirst for knowledge was almost as large as his thirst for blood. He should want yours. But even yours smelled insignificant.

“Who are you?” He asked once more, voice soft as he regarded you. You didn’t make sense and it was driving him nuts. Driving him to the point of not wanting to solve you at all. He’d rather toss you into the nearest fire and call it a job well done.

Tonight, at least, his curiosity got the best of him. He’d figure out who you were and what you were keeping from him. Then he’d get rid of you.

“I’m nothing, a nobody,” you responded. Your lips parted and he felt a strange tug in his chest. Another weird sensation he hadn’t experienced in hundreds, if not thousands of years.

“You’re coming with me,” he growled. He half dragged, half carried you out of the room. You didn’t fight him or scream. You didn’t try to tug yourself free. You kept up as much as you were able as Sukuna left the penthouse suite of the Kamo clan. He didn’t have to worry about security cameras as he turned off power to the whole block.

Rain pelted the both of you, soaking his shirt. Rivulets of red dripped from him and disappeared into the nearest drain. He ran towards his car at the end of the block, shaking you in his haste to get to his car. His hair plastered to his face and he growled. He didn’t have enough hands to move his hair from his face.

It may be the dead of night, but that meant little to a world still guided by its misconceptions and folktales. They told themselves stories about being safe because the government told them that they were. Nevermind the fact that the pent up anxiety they pushed down, the suppressed emotions, created a legion of curses to haunt the natural world for years and years to come yet.

He couldn’t shift into his true form over hair in his eyes. Too many cameras. Too many onlookers. He pushed you into his car and you finally yelped as your shoulder hit the side of the seat.

He quickly crossed in front of the car and got in, starting it, and tearing off down the street in a whirl of tires and smoke. The sound of the windshield wipers were the only source of sound.

Sukuna kept glancing at you. At the way the streetlights and ads shone periodically across your face. It was maddening to see. And yet all you did was pant for breath. Your lips were parted again. Were you doing it on purpose? What the hell was wrong with you?

He could tell that you were still scared. Still nervous to be around him. But there was a soft acceptance in the way you didn’t mouth off or ask a million annoying questions. You were an unassuming presence beside him and it was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Couldn’t name.

It didn’t take long for Sukuna to arrive at one of his many penthouses. This one was in the dead center of the city. If his enemies got through his defenses and reached the middle of the city, well then, they deserved to take their shot at him.

He pulled into the private garage, turning off the engine and looked over at you. You licked your lips and he followed the movement, the glide of your tongue darting out from your mouth. Sukuna tore his eyes away with a scowl.

He got out of the car a little too roughly. Yanked open the passenger side door a little too harshly. Grabbing you out of the seat with too much force. He slammed you against the car as he closed his door. Then, he dragged you towards the private elevator.

No cameras. Exactly what he needed. He rode the elevator straight to his penthouse. It opened out into a spacious foyer decorated in black. He dragged you inside, growing impatient with your human body unable to keep up with his stalking gait.

He knew the perfect room to throw you in too. Sometimes Sukuna liked to play with his food.

He pushed you into the small room that had a million cameras set up inside. The room was decorated in an off white subway tile scheme. There was a bunk bed held up by chains drilled into the wall. There was a private bathroom. He found that allowing that little bit of decency made humans think he was merciful. It made betraying them that much more delicious.

You fell to the floor on top of your bad shoulder and cried out. Sukuna laughed at your pain and shut the door.

“Why won’t you kill me?!” You yelled, loud enough to be heard through the thick, reinforced door. No small feat.

Sukuna turned and looked at you through the checkered plexiglass window. He smiled, grin spreading across his face and likely making him look feral.

“The fun’s just getting started, princess,” he said. His haunting laugh echoed throughout his apartment as he left you alone for the night. Tomorrow, he’d make sure that you knew whose control you were under.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

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snivyartjpeg · 2 months

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space dandy is one of my favorite anime ever so here's a real self indulgent rain code au where the detectives are space bounty hunters and shinigami is yuma's horrible alien parasite

(lore + spoilers below)(it's a lot so warning for that lol)

so like space mercs and bounty hunters are a classic right? imagine there is a whole ranking system on these guys ran by the intergalactic united government, and there's one guy who's the best in the business: a professional bounty hunter who has no name. he simply responds to his ranking- number one.

he carries out his work anonymously, his face only known by very few elites. born and raised to kill, he's really got no other identity to him.

he's never been fit for close combat, so he excels in stealth and marksmanship, as well as using his little genius mind to macgyver his way out of most situations

well eventually number one gets a little too cocky and gets fatally wounded on a mission. as he's dying, he hears the voice of an alien parasite who goes by shinigami. she's close to death as well without a proper host, so she proposes a deal: she takes over his body, and he gets to live. desperate to survive, he accepts, but the shock of her takeover knocks him unconscious and gives him amnesia.

by the way, shinigami works a lot like venom- she gives him super powers but also she does get hungry. yuma ends up letting her devour (read: she takes over his body and makes him devour) any hunted targets they kill.

anyway, now wholly dependent on her as a guide and life support system, number one manages to escape the planet he nearly died on and reach a trade center to find help. however, once he gets there, he is immediately chased by other bounty hunters and police. while running, he catches sight of a wanted poster, featuring someone with a face that looks just like his...

he finds what he thinks is an old abandoned ship to hide in, but turns out this worn down hunk of metal is inhabited by a man named yakou furio and his band of misfit outlaws that are also hiding from the fuzz. they have a big panic upon meeting, but all calm down and ask their newest guest how he got here. after giving his long winded explanation, number one gets accepted into the crew, and they name him yuma, after fubuki endearingly mispronounced the term U.M.A. (Unidentified Monstrous Animal, the thing the crew initially mistook yuma for).

the nda are all different types of aliens too! yakou is of a carnivorous race from a planet that's always raining. desuhiko is from a shapeshifting race of aliens that often blend into other planet populations. fubuki is a 4th dimensional time being, encased in a robotic body so she can interact with the lower plane creatures. halara is basically a furry from a planet ruled by anthropomorphic mammals (they look like some sort of gray fox). and vivia is like danny phantom- a guy who only half died thanks to a wormhole warp accident, so he can travel between spiritual and physical planes and cause anomalies. they've all got their own crimes and past, but they're all good people. will i ever draw them? hopefully someday!

anyway, this kinda plays out like a humorous, episodic show in which the crew go on odd jobs and missions to scrape by, all while trying to not get hunted as bounty targets. eventually things would get intense when they get attacked by a huge ship that's manned by a masked man... and this masked man seems to have it out for yuma, specifically. who is he? why is he attacking? whatever will this band of misfits do?!

i guess we'll have to find out next episode...

(or you can send any asks about this au. i WILL infodump abt it)

#rain code #raincode #mdarc #master detective archives: rain code #yuma kokohead #shinigami #shinigami chan #rain code spoilers #yumagami #i think

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goldenblu · 7 months

Text

lrt (lrb?) but in regards to another idea i had about germa!sanji…

AU where the poison doesn’t work and he’s born without emotions like his brothers and becomes stealth black. he comes across the strawhats while he's on a mission and decides to work with them/use them because their goals happen to align at that point in time (or maybe they don’t align and he means to sabotage them).

he can’t tell the strawhats who he really is so he pretends to be someone else, someone with emotions and morals and a completely normal background, maybe he makes up some sob story so that they allow him to travel with them.

he chooses to play the long game because this is a delicate mission that can’t be solved with brute strength alone. unlike his brothers he can be patient, he can lie and pretend and manipulate, that’s his strong suit, isn’t it? he’s the spy, the infiltrator, the one who is always sent undercover—that’s what he was made for.

so he joins the strawhats under the guise of a cook, not because he likes cooking (he doesn’t, it’s beneath him), but because 1) the strawhats are in desperate need of a cook and 2) it’s so easy and formulaic, just follow a recipe and he’s good to go. he doesn’t get why the strawhats have been struggling so much with it before he came along, what’s so hard about that?

he thinks it’s weird that the strawhats accept him right away. they don’t ask too many questions. when luffy looks at him and decides “you’ll be my cook,” that’s that. it’s like he’s always been there, with the easy way that they make space for him on their crew.

it’s so stupidly naive of them, it almost makes sanji laugh. he reminds himself that he shouldn’t expect pirates to be particularly intelligent, and either way, he’s not gonna complain since it makes his job that much easier.

so he cooks for them, he sneaks away occasionally to meet with his various underworld contacts and maybe do a little light murdering here and there when the need arises, he fights alongside the strawhats whenever he can’t avoid it—not with the raid suit, of course, but he doesn’t need it, he’s got his combat knives and he’s very good at hand to hand.

it’s a bit difficult to explain away his inhuman durability; chopper is always worrying over him and accuses him of hiding his injuries. chopper seems baffled when sanji shows him his unharmed skin and says, look, really, there’s nothing there, you must have been imagining things. or, when he can’t pretend that he didn’t take a blow, he just shrugs and says that his opponent was a lot weaker than they looked.

it infuriates zoro to no end, because how is this random no-name cook so strong? how does he somehow come out of every battle untouched with hardly a single hair out of place? so zoro tries to start fights with sanji, to prove the superiority of his swords over sanji’s knives, and at first sanji mostly ignores him because what does he care about some stupid swordsman’s ego?

but zoro keeps trying and eventually sanji snaps and finally fights back, since this irritating mossball clearly needs to be taught a lesson. sanji wins, and he thinks that will be the end of it, but then zoro just keeps coming back, because how else will he get stronger if he can’t defeat a fucking cook?

(sanji allows it. he’s been getting bored, and at least the swordsman is one of few who can keep up with him. he hasn’t had a good fight like that in a while now.)

sanji doesn’t think particularly highly of usopp, who he labels as a coward. but then again, compared sanji and his siblings, most people are. so when usopp runs to hide behind him, sanji sighs in annoyance but grudgingly moves to protect him anyway because that’s what this person he’s pretending to be would do, isn’t it? he doesn’t actually care what happens to usopp or anything, no matter how much usopp seems to think otherwise.

the first time sanji saves usopp without prompting, he’s momentarily surprised with himself. he didn’t have to do that; no one would have noticed if he pretended he hadn’t seen usopp was in danger. he chalks it up to the fact that he’s protected usopp so many times that it must have become an automatic instinct, which irritates him to no end. but whatever, it’s not like he’s going to be here for much longer anyway.

he treats nami the same as everyone else. one day he walks by while nami is drawing her maps and he offhandedly mentions something about how maps of the grand line are usually terribly inaccurate in his experience which makes it a pain to sail anywhere without an eternal log pose, but nami’s maps seem to be pretty good. and that’s how nami finds out he’s already been all over the grand line.

sanji realizes that he might’ve dropped a bit too much information, but he covers it up by saying he used to work as a cook on a merchant ship, which nami accepts. but after that nami starts working on her maps in the galley a lot more so that she can get his opinion/ask him questions, especially about places that the strawhats don’t stop at, like do you remember if the landmass was shaped more like this or this or are there any islands i’m missing that we would’ve passed by already.

sanji answers as honestly as he can—not because he wants to help her in particular, but because better maps means that it’ll be easier for germa ships to navigate the grand line, so why not? so he doesn’t kick her out of the galley, not even when it really starts to distract him from cooking. nami doesn’t ever say it outright, but he suspects that this is why she gives him a slightly bigger allowance than the others when they go ashore, not that he needs it.

luffy drags sanji places and shows him new things and, most confusingly, asks him to play. sanji scoffs at the notion because he doesn’t play. he’s never played anything, not once in his entire life, he doesn’t even think he’s had fun before. when he lets that slip, though, luffy looks at him, smile falling for a moment in favor of something sad, before becoming even more determined.

(later, luffy asks him if he has a dream.

no, sanji says, without thinking. he pauses, unsure if that’s something that the persona he’s carefully crafted would say. but it’s too late—it’s already out there.

not at all? luffy asks. there has to be something. i don’t care about far away or impossible it seems.

sanji considers it for a moment and says, again, no. i don’t see the point of dreaming of things that aren’t possible.

whether it’s possible or not isn’t important. surely there’s something you want.

want. sanji isn’t even sure of the meaning of the word. he wants what his father wants, of course, but he gets the feeling that isn’t what luffy meant. something about his confusion must show on his face, because luffy lets it go.

after that, though, luffy won’t stop asking about what sanji wants to do. it drives sanji insane, because that’s a question he never knows how to answer.

it’s easy enough to make something up, obviously, but luffy seems to know every time, because he’ll send sanji this disappointed sort of look.

it makes sanji feel like he’s failed a test he didn’t know he was taking.

he fucking hates it.)

the strawhats keep sailing forward, saving various people and islands along the way (and that’s something else sanji can’t understand—luffy’s determination to fight for the freedom of others at no benefit to himself, this inherent kindness of his. well, sanji amends, the entire crew’s kindness, really. each of them shows it in their own way, but it’s apparent enough even in their daily interactions on the ship. these little things, above all else, keep throwing sanji off; he doesn’t know what to do with it, especially when it’s directed at him).

so for a long time, sanji pretends to be someone he’s not. and then he realizes, at some point, he’s not pretending anymore. he realizes that he’s actually starting to enjoy cooking, that he likes being here, on this ship with this crew who treat him as something more than a weapon or someone to fear. he realizes that he can’t remember the last time he thought about his mission, that it’s getting easier and easier to put on these fake emotions, that he barely even has to think about it anymore—so maybe they aren’t as fake he thought they were.

he realizes, with horror, that he’s learning how to feel. and, worst of all, there is something he wants, now.

so in the end, it turns out luffy was right. sanji does have an impossible dream, after all. because this thing he wants? he knows, as sure as anything, that it’s something he can’t ever, ever have.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #i GUESS i'll use the vinsmoke tag this time since it actually applies #stealth black #stealth black sanji au #whenever i read literally anything the first thing my mind goes to is “how can i make this about sanji" sorry #the brainrot is real #mine #my writing #i guess?#i don’t know what to tag this as #why tf is this 1.5k words

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prismuffin · 6 months

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Could we get some Ethan hunt x old teammates m!Reader, where they have a kinda love/hate relationship yk? Were teammates because maybe the reader did something Ethan and the whole corporation didn't see fit so they went into hiding. But now (speaking of the latest movie) Ethan needs help and since he knows that he can trust the reader he tries to find him. Obviously they meet at some point maybe venice? but only because the reader caught wind of whats going on and also only helping Ethan because he has a grudge against Gabriel. I would like the reader to be more focused on stealth, like the best, no one can detect him, and maybe that also reflects in his fighting style.

Idk i hope you understand, not really good at describing what's going on in my brain

A/n: I totally understand and thanks for answering my call for M:I requests! I hope I did this one justice- also writing fights is hard as shit

Someone He Could Trust

Ethan Hunt x male!reader

( summary: After an old friend reaches out to you for help, you decide to go to a party in Venice )

Warnings?: spoilers for Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning!! , mentions of guns, violence, fighting, knives, killing, light swearing, mentions of alcohol

!-!more under the cut!-! After all these years, the last thing you expected was a message from him. Ethan Hunt. An old...co-worker...of yours from before 96'. You both used to work together back then, not ever fully trusting one another, though you admit that that's mostly your fault. There were a few times where you may have left him in the dark but only when you knew he could get out of it easily. The last time you had though didn't go so well, a lot of people died and it ended with him being caught. You'd thought he was dead or in jail but time told a different story as you found out he was recruited by the IMF, a government organization that uses the skills of people like you and him to do dirty work behind the scenes.

"I need your help, I need someone I can trust." The message he left you included a file with a picture of a certain key. You'd heard of these things recently, everyone was racing to be the first to get both parts of the key. What exactly it unlocked you're unsure of and judging by the extent of Ethan's research he doesn't either. Though the key wasn't the only thing that caught your attention, a single name had as well. Gabriel. If you remember correctly he should be dead, if he's wrapped up in all of this then it can't be good. Either way, the last thing that lay within the file is a single invitation to a club in Venice Italy. Smirking, you stood, a party doesn't sound like a bad idea.

After a quick flight, you landed in Venice around 11pm, heading to one of the many canals in Italy you entered a boat that rowed you down to a hole in the wall building, the neon lights and loud music shaking the walls around you as you stepped out the boat, letting yourself get frisked before going inside. Entering the party, you straightened your tux as you scanned your surroundings, people danced on display like art as guests around them talked and drank. It was casual and not at the same time. Moving around the crowd of people you walked closer to the bar only to stop as you recognized a certain bearded man. Gabriel. He was older now, obviously, and he stood close to a woman you didn't recognize. You went just close enough to hear them, turning to not draw attention to yourself as you listened in on their conversation. "I don't have it on me," the woman spoke, ah so she was wrapped up in all of this. "I wouldn't expect you to," Gabriel spoke after her, "In any case, I'm not here for the key." 'He's not? Well, that's a contradiction,' you thought to yourself as you watched him turn his back to the bar, you moved to not be in his direct line of sight. "What do you want?" the woman asked though Gabriel seemed to dodge the question. "Suppose while we're waiting I tell you a little story," "You're obviously not the person I came here to meet." The woman said before deciding to walk away but stopped as Gabriel spoke again. "it's your story, Grace," So Grace was her name, "I know how it ends, let me buy you a drink and perhaps we can change it." Though you felt the urge to help this woman she's not who you came here for. Speaking of who you came for, looking near the entrance you saw him with a woman you'd seen before, though only briefly. British intelligence? You're pretty sure, or at least she used to be. Too bad you can't exactly remember her name. You moved again as they fully entered the party before getting stopped by someone who they then followed. Directing your attention back onto Gabriel and the woman you heard Gabriel telling her more about Ethan, though the way he was putting it made Ethan seem like this master manipulator to every woman he ever came across. You clenched your jaw as his story continued, he made it seem like it was Ethan's fault for the death of Marie when it was really he who'd killed her. "Grace," You were shocked to see Ethan just casually walk up to them both, he glanced over, noticing you and you winked before you quickly moved, preferring to offer him backup in the shadows if and when he needed it. You watched as they all talked before the white widow, or Alana as you know her, came over and decided to bring them all upstairs to talk. You'd crossed paths with her before but even then you doubt you'd be able to randomly convince her to let you follow them all the way upstairs. Still, you tailed them until you couldn't, deciding to linger until a fight broke out.

"Let's fan out, Hunt's here somewhere," You perked up at those words as you turned to notice two men, they nodded at each other before attempting to blend in. But to you, they stood out like a sore thumb. You were conflicted about staying near Hunt but knew he could at least handle himself against people he knew were threats. To you, these two were unknown threats that he'd unknowingly have to counter eventually. Taking them out now would be ideal you thought and so you followed them. If they moved far enough from Hunt then they wouldn't be a problem at all and you could return to him.

Tailing them didn't last too long, the venue was rather large and it didn't take them long to get far from Ethan. You walked back inconspicuously before stopping as you noticed a few guards run past you towards Ethans location. They ran up the stairs and you watched as Ethan jumped from the railing, spooking the patrons as he ran through the crowd. Following after him as quickly as you could without drawing as much attention to yourself you found him saving that girl from earlier, Grace, from two men. Fighting them off as best he could as she ran. He called out to her but she didn't come back to help, scoffing you pulled out two sai's from your person. Wasting no time you jumped on the back of one guy, putting a quick end to his life before you turned, narrowly missing Ethan's head as you plunged one of your sai's into the eye of the second guard. Ethan stood, watching as you removed your weapon, flicking the blood off. "Long time no see huh?" You said, watching the slightly out of breath Ethan tilt his head briefly as he nodded. "Yeah well," he shrugged before looking past you, seeing Grace's retreating form he moved to follow her only to stop and do a double take near the grounds. You peeked, noticing the two guys from earlier, they noticed Ethan before running to stop him, was everyone really after this guy? "I'll deal with them, you go after her," You said and he nodded. "There's a safe-house, third floor, south of Minich Bridge, my teams waiting there!" He yelled to you as he began running and you nodded, preparing yourself for the company of the two men.

Hiding beside the entrance to the corridor you were just in you waited for them to run in. The older white guy ran in first followed by his younger partner, who you went for first, hitting him hard with the back of your sai. He fell quick and quiet, though not quiet enough as the older guy seemed to notice immediately. He turned quickly, pointing his gun at you and firing off a few shots though you threw down a smoke bomb of sorts, blinding the man. You waited, moving slowly behind his person to strike again though he had anticipated your attack, blocking you last second though not before you were able to knock the gun out of his hand. He was strong and well-trained but you've taken down men bigger than him. He threw a few punches that you'd dodged before countering, causing him to stagger as the smoke started to dissipate. Kicking him, he flew off to the side, hitting the railing of the balcony. Grabbing your sai's again you were ready to finish the job, pulling your arm back to ready yourself for your attack you were suddenly pushed from behind. You hit the railing, your Sai's falling out your hand. "Shit," you were quick to turn, kicking the younger guy down, how he got back up that fast you were unsure.

Moving quickly you fought the younger guy off, not forgetting about your older opponent who had recovered from his initial fall. You threw a punch at the younger guy who'd blocked it but you'd countered quicker than he thought. Punching him in his throat he fell to the floor struggling to breathe, giving you enough time to turn and kick the older guy in his knee, knocking him down as you used your leg and wrapped it around his throat, effectively knocking you both to the ground as you choked him out with the strength of your thighs. He punched your side but you held out long enough for him to stop struggling. As soon as he was unconscious you moved to knock out the young guy again who had weakly put his fists up to fight back. Smirking you hummed, "What a shame, you're kinda cute." He charged at you and you sidestepped him. He turned quickly just in time to get kicked in the chest making him fall on his back. Some might say you should never kick someone when they're already down but you say that's the perfect time to strike. Delivering one final kick to his head, you knocked the consciousness out of his body.

Sighing you looked at the two unconscious bodies before stretching, "Finally." You moved to grab the guns that had since been forgotten in the hand-to-hand combat that just ensued before leaving the way Ethan did. You doubt you'd catch up to him now so it was better to just try and find that safe-house he'd told you about.

Finding the bridge Ethan told you about wasn't hard though you were more than shocked to find Ethan there, above a woman who was now dead. Grace stood behind him, unsure of what to do. "Ethan?" you walked up the bridge, but his eyes never left the woman. "She's.." he muttered, not finishing his sentence. Looking at the woman you recognized her from earlier she was that former British Intelligence agent whose name you didn't even remember. Now though it's clear that she meant a lot to Ethan. Kneeling down to his level you hesitantly placed a hand on his back. "I'm sorry Ethan," Hearing a boat come down the canal you were quick to remove your suit jacket, delicately placing it over her as the boat neared.

Ethan stood, still looking down at the body before ripping his eyes away from the scene. You placed your hand on his back again, shocked when he leaned into your touch. "I'm sorry," Grace spoke up but Ethan quickly shut her down. "No, it's not your fault. It's Gabriel's." He stated matter-of-factly, anger dripping from his tone. The boat finally neared and stopped making both you and Ethan look up. "Benji," Ethan said, referring to the man driving the boat. "He's on our side?" You asked and Ethan nodded. The man now known as Benji seemed relieved that Ethan was ok but confused at your presence. "I'll explain who he is later, right now...let's just get back to the safe-house...I need to think," Ethan spoke to Benji who nodded before he urged Grace onto the boat. Hopping over the railing yourself you landed with a huff onto the speedboat, sitting in the tight space before Ethan sat next to you. He held a somber expression on his face as Benji turned the boat around. Bumping him with your shoulder, you offered him a smile, "We'll make him pay for this Ethan. I promise." You whispered and Ethan looked at you. You both gave each other a determined nod at the mutual agreement and he offered you a brief smile, but it quickly fell again One way or another you were going to find Gabriel and kill him.

----!----

( I despise writing fights )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#prismuffin #x male reader #male reader #mission impossible x male reader #mission impossible fanfiction #mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning #mission impossible x reader #ethan hunt x reader #ethan hunt x male reader #ethan hunt #mission impossible ethan hunt #mission impossible dead reckoning x reader #ethan hunt fanfiction #ethan hunt mission impossible

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lavenoon · 1 year

Text

AU Glamrocks, here we go! Close-ups, lines, and character descriptions under the cut <3

Freddy: Code Name: Gold (jokingly called “Golden Boy” by his team members)

The oldest of the Glamrocks, and an import. He’s been with Fez from the start, and has come a long way from “Friedrich Fassbär” (changed to a civilian Freddy Fazbear - bear being a literal translation, and “Faz” sounding similar enough - what a harmless suggestion by the Fez higher ups). Originally programmed in German, sometimes he still slips up even after all the updates and upgrades he went through. Of the Glamrocks, past and present, he’s the only one who wasn’t commissioned by Fez for the purpose of agent work. He was young when he met the late head of Fez, and promptly scouted - young enough to leave behind his previous life and move.

He’s proud to be such a cornerstone of Abra Fez, but it also comes with a burden. From the start, he’s watched people not return from missions, taking on more missions himself as if he could protect everyone if he just did all the work. But in the end, his friends - because they are friends, thanks to Fez’ policy of agents being allowed to share their identity with other agents if they so choose - pulled him back from that brink, and reminded him that it’s not his responsibility, that all agents chose this work, and are aware of the risks. Things happen, but he can only do so much.

Then Foxy “died”, and only a few short months later, Bonnie “disappeared” - it broke him. Freddy grew into a workaholic, and his anxiety skyrocketed about losing more friends. He doesn’t take it out on Roxy or Monty, and doesn’t fault them for the roles they fill. He’s grown to befriend both, though Roxy and Monty themselves keep a bit of a distance for their own reasons. Freddy would like to be greedy, he would like to have it all - his old friends, well and alive, and new friends joining them. The reality that that’s impossible hurts him, and so he drowns himself in work. He remains close to Chica, though often their conversations take a dive in the direction of nostalgia and grief, so they don’t seek each other out exclusively a lot, and besides, he barely has the time nowadays, anyway…

An all-rounder in terms of stealth and intelligence collection

Roxy: Code Name: Gaze (or Glare, when she’s angry - but only where she can’t hear)

Foxy’s direct replacement, and while she wasn’t told in as many words, she’s smart enough to figure that out. Many, many inadequacy issues about it - how is she supposed to live up to someone she never even knew? How is she supposed to feel like she earned her spot when she was instantly promoted into the Glamrock rank after completing training? Is she even any good? Overcompensates by putting on a show and acting aloof and at times even seemingly arrogant, very proud of her sight and the advantages it gives her. That part is real - and she knows she's good, with very real talents and tricks up her sleeve. But her "competition" is long dead, and the knowledge that if he hadn't died she would have just become a normal agent eats at her.

When she joined she barely got to know Bonnie before he disappeared, too, and while his loss hit her as well, she wasn’t as affected as Freddy or even Chica. Meaning she watched in detail how her new coworkers were crushed by the news, acting like barely a shell of their former selves for a long while. For a long while she thought about if that was their reaction to losing Foxy, too - not that she'd ever know.

Felt very awkward for the short while it took for Monty to be promoted into the ranks, as the only one not still mourning, wondering if perhaps she’s not affected enough, and if that makes her an even worse person in Freddy’s and Chica’s eyes, because she’s already replacing their friend.

Assumes many things about Freddy’s and Chica’s views on her in general, doing none of them a favor. A few times she tried asking about Foxy, but felt too bad about the sadness it caused, and so he now haunts her. Sometimes she wonders if the voice telling her she’s a failure is his, because she has no image of him to compare against. She pushes all of that away and still befriends the two, with just those lingering anxieties she’s too scared to bring up, because what if they confirm? With Monty she’s a bit more relaxed, though he has his own issues to work through, so it’s not like they’re closer to each other than anyone else.

Highly driven to prove herself and her merit, doing her best to prove (to Fez, to Freddy and Chica, to herself) that she is the best, and to leave the shadow of Foxy she was thrust in behind.

An all-rounder in terms of stealth and intelligence collection

Chica: Code Name: Pepperoni (usually shortened to Pepper, or the occasional Pep)

Oh, she tries so hard. Has always done her best to be fun and energetic, and felt comfortable with her spot in the world. Then half her friends died in a very short time, Fez started pushing for upgrades and changes, and nowadays she looks in the mirror and barely recognizes herself. She barely recognizes Freddy, either, and it’s almost scarier - she knows she’s still the same person, still feels like herself, even if that peppy energy feels harder and harder to keep up. But for Freddy, the only old friend she has left, she doesn’t even know if he’s still the person she knew underneath all that grief.

Her little family has changed irrevocably, and she tries to make it a new one, even with all of them resisting in their own ways. She huffs and puffs fake complaints, she teases and jokes, and she’s loud enough to cover the awkward silence that so often settles around them all.

She feels just a little abandoned, and isn't quite sure by whom. By Foxy, or Bonnie? For dying? By Freddy? For grieving? By Roxy and Monty, for not even trying to get as close as she hoped? By Fez itself, for reminding her that everything is temporary, and that their work is dangerous, and not doing more to protect them all? But no, that last thought is dangerous - the seed of doubt is there, after Foxy and Bonnie both started doubting, and look at what happened… She’s smart, smarter than people may think, and she’s terrified of the thought that the agency she has dedicated most of her life to would kill her or her friends so quickly just for being inconvenient.

Most of the time, she’s glad to have “one of those faces”, and a chipper attitude that makes people want to talk to her, underestimate her, and give her aaallll the information she wants. But when she starts feeling isolated by circumstances, with Freddy’s mind too clouded by grief and guilt, and the newbies remaining distant, there are suddenly many scary realizations just waiting to be had, and she can feel them creep closer with a dreadful finality. All she ever wanted was for her family to be okay, and happy, but it seems so unattainable when she struggles to stop everything from tearing at the seams. She pretends she’s fine just to act as the glue keeping them all together, too scared of losing them, too, even if it’s not the happiness she had before.

Her disposition makes her more inclined to accept missions for intelligence collection

Monty: Code Name: Nine Iron (Chica uses any golf term arbitrarily)

Technically, a little older than Roxy, but worked as a normal agent for a while. He quickly showed potential, despite some anger issues that made him decline many polite and formal undercover missions. Loud and energetic as he is, he sells himself as a dumb brute a lot, but hides a keen mind. He’s just not the most patient person, and he knows it - but when he was recommended for a team-up with a Glamrock he didn’t dare question it either.

And then the mission went sideways, Bonnie disappeared (which Fez seemed all too eager to label as destruction after minimal evidence), and Monty was briefly investigated before being cleared. A little while after, when he was offered to join the Glamrocks, he did end up questioning it - why replace the guy so quickly, and with him of all people, who couldn’t even help Bonnie out? That’s just a bit too good to be true - it’s fishy.

Fez calmly explains the facts, and they don’t look good for Monty. A rising star on his best way to become a great agent, but with violent outbursts that have left the clean up a mess many times before. A Glamrock, meant to mellow him out on a difficult mission, and no witnesses to his destruction, with very little evidence. Monty can shut his mouth and take the job and thus the benefits it comes with, or at any point they can reopen the investigation and he won’t like what they’ll find.

He takes the job. But in turn, he’s very quickly disillusioned with Abra Fez as an agency, and only the threat hanging over him keeps him from spilling it all. Sometimes fights with the others about things Fez wants them to do, which they think is because of his little anger issues, and he lets them believe it. Any suspicion the others may have harbored however he quickly dissolves, simply because of the subdued condolences he shares the first time he joins their ranks. They’re all welcoming, and include him in their off the clock hang outs when those do happen, but his lack of faith in Fez makes him feel like an outsider anyway.

But after years of the other shoe never dropping, he does his best to push it all away and just be a part of the group. If he can’t believe in management, he can believe in the people who stuck out their necks to help him so many times before, and he’ll do the same right back - he couldn’t help Bonnie, and he’s feeling so very guilty for his unknowing complicity in his disappearance, but he can make sure none of his friends suffer the same fate.

(Besides, he’s aware of the fact that he’d be the first Fez would silence)

His disposition makes him more inclined to accept stealth missions, and/ or missions with anticipated enemy contact

But then, enter a little menace:

Gregory: no official code name, but when he declared he wanted one, Roxy offhandedly called him Arsonist. Freddy in the background gasped as if personally offended, which Chica took as a prompt to amend “in Training!” - Freddy’s reaction was to cry out a “No!” much like the “Show me what you have” “A knife!” vine, while Monty started losing his shit. Roxy slipped the kid a lighter while Freddy was busy telling Chica that “in Training” does not make it better. Freddy personally calls him Superstar, after Gregory commented that “Glamrocks” sounds more like a band than a team of secret agents. The kid loves it, soothing even the sourest of moods into quiet grumbles.

Doesn’t talk much about the time before Freddy found him - where his parents are, why he was living on the streets, and why he was so insistent to go with the guy who had just started a fire.

It also wasn’t exactly a matter of being found. Gold was on a mission to destroy a particular batch of evidence and prevent the company in question from making headway, so he figured to kill two birds with one stone and simply set the building in question on fire. Easy job, he thought. Not a residential area, and with extensive research on work schedules, there shouldn’t be any casualties - except someone started throwing rocks at him while yelling, and ruthless as he is he would never hurt a child.

Even though said child turns out extremely feral, and barely stops berating him for burning down the warehouse with the laxest security, where’s a kid supposed to sleep now, huh? His things were in there, asshole!

Gold, close to tears he can’t shed, feels incredibly guilty and apologizes throughout carrying Gregory away from the fast burning crime scene. Lil tot keeps hitting him, though. Gold quickly finds out the kid stonewalls at everything except his own name, won’t even say what was in the warehouse that was so important to him. For a while Gold just stares at the kid, contemplating how to continue - he can’t just leave him there, but he can’t expect Gregory to go with a stranger, and his life is dangerous -

“So, where are you going now?”

Entirely too nonchalant, but when Gold does not react as intended (i.e. with a direct answer), the kid huffs and crosses his arms. Boldly declares he’ll stick with - uhh, what’s his name, actually?

Freddy introduces himself through a slip up, and immediately freezes. Gregory grins the smuggest of grins. So if Freddy doesn’t let him tag along, there’s a lot of information he has that many people would be very interested in - namely the police and the company in question. Kid has been living on the streets for long enough to know a sucker, and Freddy is a big one.

The other Glamrocks were a bit wary of the kid first, but not entirely surprised that a feral stray decided to bully Freddy into adopting him. They’re all unfazed through their circumstances, and so when going through missing child reports does not yield any matches, Gregory gets a new faked identity (though various last names had to be rejected - RIP Gregory Fartmaster, you were never meant to be) and gets officially (but technically, very illegally) adopted by Freddy.

He calls Freddy both by his name and Dad, though he’s a little bashful about the latter. Freddy wants to melt every time. Both end up an emotional mess and don’t address it until the next time it happens. Monty is a very cool uncle, but fumbles a lot - especially when Gregory asks about the unholy amount of bent golf clubs Monty owns. He takes the kid to minigolf just so he’d stop asking, which Gregory promptly starts exploiting. Roxy starts out very aloof - but Gregs is very persistent, and quickly figures out how to get her talking. So she can see through walls? So cool! What’s the weirdest thing she’s seen? The grossest? Can she look through that wall right there? What’s on the other side? Roxy is unfortunately not immune to childlike wonder and admiration, and gives in quickly. Chica doesn’t even need to be convinced! She’s quickly very affectionate (lord knows she’s aware that Freddy needed a win - needed to not feel like he failed someone again), and a little too enabling for Freddy’s taste. A little trip to grab some fast food is always on the table, and she very seriously asks him about fashion advice sometimes, so he can feel included. His advice objectively sucks (for formal events), but once she wore hot wheels earrings for him and he’s been riding that high ever since.

Since Freddy found Gregory and thus, has a little human to take care of, he has lightened up considerably again. The novelty of everything keeps him on his toes, and seeing the positive impact he has on Gregory/ the safe home he can give the kid has helped him heal. He still misses his friends, but he has someone to take care of at home, and so he no longer works himself into the ground. The future is once again looking bright, despite the pain of the past, and he’s eager to explore it.

Roxy gets to bask in the admiration of someone who has never known Foxy, and in whose eyes she’s her own person and that person is great, even if some compliments just lead to sly requests of checking gifts for their content before it’s time to unwrap them.

Chica gets to see her oldest friend become himself again, and feels a lot lighter herself in turn. Gregory has no issue keeping up with her energy, and where their interests don’t match up, their sense for shenanigans does and they both enjoy that immensely.

Monty has little time to ponder the past when there’s a menace making a mess of the present, but he doesn’t find it in himself to complain, even if the kid tests his limited patience a lot. He likes being the fun uncle a lot more than being a fraud, and so he embraces it.

(And so, Gregory is starting to acquire parental units)

He does know that their work is secret, though, and has the official explanation of what to say when people ask what his father does for work memorized. After [REDACTED] on the street, he’s smart enough to keep secrets, and only complains when secrets are kept from him. He likes being in the know, and really, with how involved he is, doesn’t he deserve to know? One day he’ll say the wrong thing to the wrong person, all because no one clued him in…

That would be a tragedy, no? (:

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snootlestheangel · 1 year

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Cheers to the Unknown Pt.2

Monster/cryptid au ft. Just A Dude!Ghost; canon-divergent, alternate universe. More details here (parts are not a coherent story necessarily just scenarios as they come to me !subject to change!;all tagged under "cheers to the unknown") TW: some body horror, language

Meeting The Team

John Price being an inhuman probably would have upset Ghost more had he not been so numb to the world. Ghost had been officially born; Simon Riley was dead, along with his family. Crude, ugly scars twisted his face into a mock grin, something he learned is called a Glasgow smile. If Ghost himself could not bear to see them in the mirror, why would anyone else? How could anyone else? So he took to covering his face. Thus Ghost was born.

Now, Simon Riley had worked with John Price before his supposed death, but it wasn't for long and he still didn't really know the man. He knew Price to be a good man, however, and was rather pleased to hear he'd be working under the captain.

The mission itself was a simple infiltrate and extract operation, one that Ghost could probably do perfectly well on his own. But alas, given the novelty of his new identity, many higher ranking personnel refused to allow him solo for the time being. At least Ghost was stuck with someone relatively decent from his limited experience, and a fellow human.

Or at least Ghost thought he was with another human. He was due for a very nasty reality check when he happened to glance over at the Captain while tightening his tac vest. Ghost stopped all motion as he watched with sickening horror as Price's appearance contorted into a lowly guard for the site they were infiltrating. Price groaned a bit as he popped a few joints in adjustment to his different body.

"You alright?" Price asked in a noticeably different voice as he noticed the wide eyes of the lieutenant.

"Fine, sir." He snapped out, perhaps a bit too quickly. He wasn't all that shocked to be honest, a man of Price's reputation can't possibly be human, and it validated Ghost's feelings of uncanny valley when interacting with Price. It had seemed his intuition that something was different proved right. He wasn't shocked, no, more angry that no one bothered to tell him.

"I thought you knew." Price spoke quietly, almost sheepishly, at Ghost's sharp response.

"Quite frankly, sir, I don't give a shit. We've got a job to do, and I take it you've got a plan." Ghost meets Price's eyes, his expression earnest despite being blank. Price smirked back, slowly nodding.

"That I do."

~~~~~~

Ghost never enjoyed being assigned to various teams of rather inexperienced soldiers, especially ones run by cocky, know-it-all sergeants. He had arrived after the team to assist them with the stealth aspect of their assignment, since their last one had apparently gone haywire. Granted, it wasn't a real assignment, but rather a simulation and Ghost was there to teach them where they went wrong last time. Ghost scanned the clearing where the men were gathered, the cold spray from the sea chilling him even through all his layers.

"Glad you could make it, Lieutenant!" The sergeants, Ghost couldn't be bothered to remember his name, waved in greeting. Ghost resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead remained quiet as he took his place.

"Do you have a plan for getting inside the walls?" Ghost asked, and the sergeant nodded, briefly patting the air tank in front of him.

"There's a locking system under the water against this side gate. I can easily be in and out. The gate will open and I'll meet the men on the inside." Sergeant Daniels, as Ghost suddenly remembered, said rather matter-of-factly. Ghost frowned at him. The plan didn't make sense, but he didn't want to say anything until after the fact, so as to avoid getting into an argument before anything has a chance to go wrong. Sergeants like this one loved to argue. Ghost didn't.

"Have you checked the tank?" Ghost asked, and the sergeant's eyes widened a bit before he bent over to check. Ghost did roll his eyes this time, and instead let his gaze wander to the small team. Most of them looked as green as they probably were, but one didn't. Instead of looking apprehensive like his counterparts, he seemed at peace, his stance relaxed and a small, almost knowing smirk on his lips. He met Ghost's eye and vaguely nodded his head towards Daniels, only to match Ghost's eye roll.

He hated to admit it, but Ghost already liked this kid. He was a corporal, given the markings on his uniform, but he still seemed to know more than the Sergeant.

"Um, there's a problem with the air tank. I'll lose more air than I get to breathe if I take this down." Daniels's nervous voice drew back Ghost's attention, but before he practically snapped his neck to look, he noticed the subtle face palm from the corporal.

"Got a spare?" Ghost snapped, and Daniels shook his head.

"That's mistake number one. Never under prepare. Better safe than a dead man." Ghost barked out, barely containing his anger. He really didn't want to be spending his weekend like this.

"I can breathe underwater." A different voice spoke up, and Ghost felt a bit of relief seeing it came from the corporal.

"How well can you see under there?" Ghost asked and the kid fought back a grin, settling for a small smile.

"Pretty damn well, I'd say." He responds, and Ghost nods. He turns back to glare at Daniels.

"You'd better be fucking grateful he volunteered. You won't be so lucky next time." He said, as dark and threatening as he could be without scarring the idiot for life. Daniels nodded strongly before taking a step back to allow Ghost full authority.

"Got a name, Corporal?" Ghost asked, and the man opened his mouth and closed it again before he gave a formal response.

"Kyle Garrick, sir." Ghost quirked a brow in question.

"Did you have something else to say?"

"I was only going to be smart-ass with your question, sir." Garrick responded, standing a bit straighter as if expecting the already agitated lieutenant to snap.

"Well then let's hear it." Ghost replied, surprising even himself.

"Was only going to say, no, I actually don't have a name." Garrick quipped back, and Ghost nodded, almost solemnly.

"A fellow unloved child, I see. Good to know." Ghost said, and Garrick let out a small laugh in shock.

"Permission to dive, sir?" He asked and Ghost scanned him briefly. The corporal really wasn't dressed for the weather, but given the fact he can apparently breathe underwater, Ghost supposed it didn't really matter.

"Can you disable the lock and alarm system?" He asked, and Garrick confidently nodded.

"Go for it." And with the lieutenant's permission, Garrick gracefully slipped into the water with barely a sound. Ghost shook his head after briefly glancing at Daniels, deciding not to push anything for his own sanity.

It wasn't long at all, rather only a minute or two, before the corporal resurfaced, giving them the go ahead. The rest of the simulation was a disaster on all fronts that didn't include Corporal Garrick. Ghost had yelled himself raw afterwards, and he even allowed Garrick to slip away before the berating began. Afterwards, as Ghost headed to his temporary quarters for the night, he passed the corporal.

"You did good out there, Garrick." Ghost said, half expecting the corporal to not have heard him approach. Instead, he gave Ghost a smile and a nod, seemingly already aware of his presence. It was times like this Ghost was jealous of his inhuman counterparts for their uncanny abilities to detect subtle changes around them.

"Thank you, sir. And, most people call me Gaz." He responded, his smile brightening. Ghost frowned at him, uncertain as to why he felt so drawn by him. He must've stared too long, as Gaz's face suddenly twisted into embarrassment. Iridescent scales slowly faded into view along his cheek bones and along the crest of his nose.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting some species are more... susceptible." Gaz muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Ghost didn't understand why Gaz had said species instead of humans specifically, as that was more likely to be the case, but he didn't question it. He also didn't question what he meant by susceptible, but he refused to ask for his own peace.

"Well, good night, then. Hope to work with you again, Gaz." Ghost mumbled, and Gaz smiled once again.

"Thank you, sir. I hope to work with you, as well."

~~~~~~

Meeting Sergeant MacTavish was an... interesting experience for him, to say the least. Ghost had heard stories of the sergeant with the ability to produce lightning from his fingertips and a knack for blowing shit up. Yeah, because that's the perfect man for a stealth op.

Perhaps it was because Ghost had underestimated him, or perhaps it was the typical pre-mission jitters he still hasn't gotten used to, but something put him on edge when he saw the sergeant. Every hair on his body stood on end as the man approached him, a confident, if not cocky, grin stuck on his face. Thunder rolled in the distance, and something quite literally flashed in the Scotsman's eyes.

"Let's make this one a win, yeah Lt? Save you a seat, sir." Soap said, punctuating his sentence with a light punch to Ghost's shoulder that sent a harmless, yet startlingly shock through his body. Ghost watched him saunter away and onto the carrier as his heart beats loudly in his chest.

He'll never catch a break, will he?

Taglist: want added? Say so in the replies ;) @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom @cathnoneofyourbusiness @thorougly-melted-brains

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skylermadness · 11 months

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Hunter's Tales I: Bitten (Human TF/MC/AP/WG)

(Original Date of Upload: October 31, 2022)

Original Description:

Happy Halloween! I admittedly don't care a lot about this holiday. Personally I prefer the post-Halloween candy sales. But I do care enough to write something silly to commemorate the occasion! A few weeks ago someone asked if I liked werewolves or vampires more. Personally, I might like werewolves a bit more. I say this because I actually wrote this story out as part of a planned series I want to do featuring Argent and various monster hunting failures he endures. It likely won't be a very long series, nor a frequently updated one, but it's one I've been thinking of writing for a while now. Especially since I loved the idea of a werewolf TF but you're changing into the human form rather than the wolf one. Also just for everyone's information, fight scenes are fucking ass to write. I still don't think I did it that well, but I tried. Anyway, I hope people like this one! It is a bit different from my normal works.

Mission No° 479: October 31, 20XX

Target Name: Roland Forrester

Target Species: Lycanthrope

Hit Orderer: [REDACTED]

Reason for Hit: [REDACTED]

Agent On-Call: Agent No° 47 ~ Argent Chandler

Status of Mission: Unfulfilled

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

The night is moonless.

In the dead of this midnight a boot stamps on the ground of a muddy runway. Said runway is located within the bowels of a sprawling woodland. With the exception of the sounds of bootclad feet hitting mud, it is quiet.

Argent Chandler takes a deep breath as his eyes scan the site that lays in front of him. To a normal person they'd see a wooden cabin. Secluded and off the grid, in the middle of nature for none to disturb. With the exception of some creepy vibe to it, it seemed unsuspect.

Argent exhaled, nodding. This was the right place.

His trenchcoat swished behind him as he continued his trek down the runaway. Judging by the small pickup truck nearby he could tell his target was obviously located in this place. Although that wouldn't be very easy to tell by the fact that any lighting inside the cabin seemed inactive.

His trek easily shifted into a saunter once his now muddy boots reached the steps of the cabin. Each one creaked beneath his weight. Although at this point stealth was foregone a long time ago. Argent wasn't the kind of hunter that dealt in stealth, no. Especially since all his arsenal was silver. The creature within this dwelling likely smelled him before he was in a ten foot radius of this place.

It doesn't matter though. It never does. He always gets the job done and has been since employment. There's a reason he's considered the best hunter within his Guild.

Atop the stairs, he pulls out his gun and begins to twirl it in his hand. What would the number be now? Fourty? Forty five? At least half of those missions were probably some kind of therianthrope.

Wood continues to creak beneath him, Argent walking up to the door. The hunter stops carelessly twirling his weapon and extends his free hand to grasp the doorknob. After a cursory jiggle he finds it to be unlocked. With a nod, he confirms this to be a trap of some kind. Predictable.

Doesn't stop him from kicking the door open anyway, following it up by a gunshot to the ground in front of him.

"Let's see how your fragile ears handle that…" he whispers with a smirk on his face.

The cabin interior was dark, but was actually pretty nice looking. He presumed himself to be in the living room, considering the furnishment was a couch of some kind. His original perceptions of the place being off the grid was disregarded at the sight of an old-fashioned box TV cushioned in the corner of the room, but at this point he didn't really care. None of these creatures worked in covertness now, did they?

Another floorboard creaks, and mud begins to track into the place as he casually walks around. He holds an arm up, his gun in hand as he starts twirling it again. His other hand moves to the inside of his trenchcoat and slowly positions itself to one of his many daggers. There seems to be two major rooms he could enter. Left and right.

His gaze slowly moves rightward, and he is greeted with the sight of two beads of glowing yellow. No doubt the eyes of the very creature he came here to kill. But his ears then catch a sound. Wood creaking from the leftward room instead. Smiling, he turns around to locate the source. The place was small, there couldn't be any way for anything in here to hide efficiently.

He begins to walk to the room the sound was made in, his own steps being an obvious alert of his presence. "No use hiding, freak," he says aloud, voice filled with malice. Animosity. "We both know we're in here, so why don't you come out and…"

He stops twirling his gun right when it's upward and pulls the trigger, firing another bullet. He then finishes off his sentence with a smirk. "...play."

He doesn't get a response at first, silence filling the area in the seconds after he fired his second round. Face lacking all emotion now he continues to stand at the room's threshold. Cold, calculating.

Frontward attack, dagger thrust. Left arm disabled, forgo gun and try to utilize the other. Both arms disabled, go for a groin kick. Multiple plans fire off in his head as he awaits his prey.

What he didn't expect was the light in the room in front of him to turn on, revealing the room to be a kitchen. No one was visible within it for a couple moments, but then the sound of creaking wood pierced the air again.

"I really need to get these things replaced!" a second voice says casually, the person whom it belongs to walking into view on the other side of the threshold.

The being stood in front of Argent, smiling. The man looked to be in his mid thirties; rectangular face, scratchy beard, faint etchings of age beginning to crawl in his face. His hair was well kept with two lupine ears poking out of it. He also lacked a shirt, giving his musculature and hirsuteness visibility. Most of his hair, both head and body, was bordering between black and dark grey, although this was indubitably not because of age. The only clothing he wore was a baggy looking leather jacket and a torn pair of jeans. His tail swished behind his legs calmly. He was also barefoot as well.

Argent's first reaction was to reposition his gun to point at the man. Smirking, he's the first to engage. "I'm taking it you're Roland Forrester."

Roland nods, extending a hand and placing a finger on the bottom of the gun's barrel. "It seems you caught me red handed, Argent."

In an instant a simple finger quickly switches to the man's hand cupping the gun's barrel, Roland using his supernatural strength to squeeze it into uselessness. He grinned, baring his sharp teeth and growling. His irises began to glow a bright gold. "So, I heard you wanted to play."

Argent's mouth twists into a manic grin. He unhands the gun and begins to step back. "I see you're one of those kinds of fleabags…" He then moves the hand downwards and into his trenchcoat, grasping a second gun. "This'll be fun!"

And in that very instance, a fight breaks out between the two.

Argent is the first to break linearity as he repositions himself away from the front of the kitchen's threshold. Pouncing out the threshold was Roland, having shifted to wolf form in the past few seconds. Fangs bared, the creature turned its head to glare at Argent, its eyes filled with aggression.

It proceeds to pounce and Argent quickly moves out the way causing it to bang its head on the couch. As the wolf begins to reorientate itself, the hunter starts formulating a plan.

Six bullets, he needs to be sure he shoots to kill.

Room size is definitely an advantage. Perhaps he could… DAMN-

Caught off guard, Argent is pinned down by the lycanthrope. For a few seconds it growls, but Argent cuts it off by discharging his weapon. Its strength wavers for a moment as the noise of the firearm rings in its ears allowing Argent to give it a strong kick in the gut.

It unhands him and he rolls out from under it, quickly pushing himself upright. Stupid mistake, won't happen again.

The wolf quickly regains its bearings, although it's still noticeably in a daze. "Could've… gone for a finger there, hunter," it growls out.

"Could've gone for the neck as well, filth!" Argent dashes to the creature's side and pulls out a dagger from his trenchcoat, priming to hurl it into the abomination's leg. But just as he hurls it the wolf pounces out of the way and back into the kitchen, the dagger lodging itself into the floor instead. Positioning both hands on his gun, the hunter then moves back into the doorway's view and haphazardly fires into the room.

He misses.

Backing up a bit, Argent jumps over the couch beside him just as the werewolf pounces towards him again. The couch doesn't last very long though as the beast takes a moment to stand upright and hurl it to the other side of the room, which wasn't exactly very far.

Argent is quick to turn around, eyes widening as he realizes the chance he's given. He lifts the gun again and fires at the beast. Unfortunately, his trigger happy tendencies cause him to miss the chest and instead he hits the being in the shoulder.

It's still a win though as the creature backs away and forcibly deshifts back into its human form, holding a hand to where he was shot. The smell of blood and burning flesh begins to waft through the air as well.

"Nice aim." Roland seems to taunt Argent. In retaliation Argent fires another round, but Roland is quick to dodge. His dodge is sloppy though and he tramples into the adjacent room.

Argent's face shifts into one of annoyance and anger. He takes his other hand off the gun and rifles through his trenchcoat, pulling out a second (and his last) dagger. He then hurls it into the wall on a whim, hoping it'd be enough to perk up whatever instincts Roland had and force them to pounce prematurely.

It doesn't work.

At this point Argent is already tired of this bullshit. Usually his mission is complete by now and he's heading back home to clean off the stench of beast filth from his clothing. But no, for some reason he keeps missing his killing shots.

Two bullets. Two more chances.

…and why hasn't Roland left that room yet?

Argent slowly skulks into the open again, eyeing the room that Roland tripped into.

He can see Roland's glowing lupine eyes in the dark of the room. Cockiness overtakes Argent again as he presumed this would be his chance. Shooting the damned abomination square in the head!

Argent starts to walk towards the threshold quickly, arm outstretched and gun lined to fire directly at the werewolf's head. For once in his life he doesn't take the chance for a one-liner. He just pulls the trigger and…

…hears the sound of shattering glass.

"What the hell?"

Briskly, Argent walks into the room and investigates the scene. The very figure he shot at stands motionlessly, staring at him. Mocking him wordlessly. He goes to give it a good punch, but right as his hand meets its body he finds that it phases through the entity. The light of the room then turns on and Argent finds himself eye to eye with some kind of entity of shadows.

"...fuck," he mutters to himself. He's done for.

"You know…" Roland's voice begins to ring from behind him. The wolf man begins sauntering over to the hunter, prying the bullet out of his shoulder as he walks and disregarding it on the ground. "I'm going to have to reorganize this place again after this whole stunt. And blood is a bitch to clean…"

Argent turns around, but is barely given a chance to react as Roland seems to pin him in some kind of bear hug. The lycanthrope's superhuman strength constricts Argent.

The hunter tries one final measure. If he can at least escape, he won't have lost now. Would he? His finger twitches and one final bang blasts through the air, a bullet lodging into the ground beside him.

Roland didn't let go.

"That trick might have worked twice but I ain't one to get fooled more than that. Even if gunfire fuckin' hurts my ears."

Argent grunts. "Why not kill me already, bastard."

All he gets as a response is a smile from Roland before the older man instantly shifts into wolf form and picks the hunter up. The large beast lessens his constriction on Argent just enough to move him to a more comfortable position in his arm…

Then proceeds to throw Argent across the room.

Stings of pain run through Argent's body as the breath is knocked out of him, the man hurled straight into a wall. In contrast, his body collapses onto something soft.

A bed…

He shifts around, moaning out in pain as he forces his body to turn away from the wall. He tries to get himself upright, but can only shakily push himself up from the bed.

"I was hoping not to get any blood on the bed," Roland says, "but this will have to be how it's done unfortunately."

Argent is barely given any time to react. In the span of a single second he's pierced with a flash of pain as his right shoulder is given a single, gaping bite. His eyes roll upward as pain surges through his body, the only sight given to him being the visage of Roland's beastly form.

Roland is quick to disengage from the scene. Once Argent was adequately bit, the lycanthrope steps away and shifts back to his human form. "Good God the taste of blood is atrocious…"

Argent just huffs out a breath in pain as he rolls himself off the bed. It's a pitiful twenty seconds of pain and grunting, the hunter landing front first on the floor before he shakily stood up. "A-ahhh… but it's… not the full moon…"

"I know, but something a lot of hunters seem to neglect is how other moon phases seem to work." Roland walks towards Argent again, the hunter taking a step back. To Roland, he could smell fear from the once supposedly fearless hunter. "Magic isn't a very common practice in these parts, so I wouldn't say it's surprising your guild never taught you about it."

"It… it was a footnote- supposedly impossible to learn and function!"

"To the average human, yes. Most of what you call supernatural entities can learn it pretty well though. It's just not the most common practice." Roland snips his fingers and the shadow entity that stood at the adjacent wall of the room dispels revealing a shattered window.

Argent shakily tried to walk, but found the pain he was in a little too unbearable to move properly. He begins to tip over, but his fall is swiftly stopped by Roland.

"The wounds should shut pretty quickly."

"W… why are…"

"Don't think of this as some kind of 'I care about you' bullshit. Frankly, I'd have ripped you apart ages ago. But you hunters seem so easy to fool, and I was getting a little lonely out here."

Argent's mouth hung open. "E-excuse me?"

"Hey, magic can do a lot of shit! I thought 'why not use it and get myself a guy!' Admittedly, it took months of preparing and learning how to enact such a spell that'd be done through bitten transfer. And then there was…"

Argent pulled away. "What the hell are you talking about??"

Roland let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, I think I'm done with this." He walks away from Argent and leans on the opposing wall, golden eyes piercing into Argent's green ones. "I'm just going to forgo any explanation. You won't remember it anyway once the transformation starts."

At that very comment the pain in Argent's arm slowly begins to subside. Turning his head his eyes widened at the sight of his shoulder which was now visible through the rips in his clothing caused by Roland's bite. Blood was coagulating at a rapid pace, wounds quickly filling and scarring over.

"This… this can't be…"

It only took a few seconds before scars dispelled and healing on the surface finished. Pain continued to fade as the bones in his shoulder realigned and healed as well, the region quickly looking good as new. He then started feeling a warmth in both of his arms…

His hand trembles as he lifts it up into view, small spasms coursing through it. Watching fearfully, Argent witnesses his nails extend slightly into blunted points. They don't become claws, but there's a certain bestial tone to them. The back of his hand gains a similar tone as the smoothness of his skin begins to dissipate into a coarser look. Upon it sprouts deep brown hairs that trail across the back of his hand.

Flipping it over doesn't give him any respite either. The skin on his palms darken slightly, getting puffier and rougher. A hardness forms within them as well, caused by the formation of calluses. At the same time the size of his hand seems to increase as well. Fingers got thicker and fatter, the hand itself swelling in size as it got increasingly meatier.

His arms seemed to follow in an instant, Argent groaning as he started to feel his trenchcoat tighten around the limbs. "H-how-" he grunts out, feeling his muscle mass increase with each passing second. The rest of his clothing also felt like it was getting smaller as his entire body size seemed to fluctuate, although it was at a much slower rate than his sleeves.

"You wouldn't understand," Roland responds with a shake of his head. "All I will say is you aren't becoming a wolf yet. Just the man who contains it." Roland then smirks. "I also feel you'll grow to enjoy it~"

And Argent was indeed growing. His forearms thickened, bulk and muscle laying on them where such amounts of it wasn't there before. He could feel his bones creak and pressurize as they extended alongside them, shifting into a size better equipped to handle his inevitable new form. His biceps and triceps bloated as well, the ridges of their musculature steadily etching into the fabric of the sleeves of his hunting attire. His undershirt was growing uncomfortable at a rapid pace, and his trenchcoat was following that example.

Away from his eyesight beneath the stretching fabric came an additional swath of changes. Age creeping in his skin, hardening it and giving it an almost leathery texture to it. Arm hair grew plentiful on the back of his arms, starting off as a sparse growth before it blossomed into a thick forest of curly brown hairs. Grays also speckled these hairs, further showing his shift in age.

His muscles continue to balloon, rips beginning to form in his undershirt as things continue to process. He could hear a chorus of tears ring from the left half of his trenchcoat as well as his delts followed swiftly behind, broadening his shoulders to a thickness akin to that of his arms. The arm holes of his undercoat began to constrict as a result.

Aggression soon started to seep into Argent's emotions. He lifts up his head to look up at the creature that's done this to him. He shakily begins to try and walk over to Roland's position on the other side of the room, body trembling beneath its increasing weight both physically and emotionally. "Is this… vengeance?" he spits out, his breathing growing labored as the changes begin to enter his chest. The sound of one of the many belts surrounding his torso tightening, the metal creaking for a few seconds before snapping fills the air as Argent awaits a response.

"You could say that. It's less vengeance and more… vindication? Justice? The right words are so hard to find these days."

"Stop fucking dancing around the question and answer me you flearidden piece of-"

"See, there it is. You hunters seem to have this whole issue with us for… no good reason? I could never tell. Perhaps it's some underground war caused by predecessors long gone. I'm just trying to subdue that!" Roland stops leaning on the wall and takes a step forward. "Us so-called 'monsters' are people just like you. And yet, so many of you seem so… obsessed with wiping us out."

The sound of metal snapping as a second belt buckle on Argent's body breaks pierces the air.

"I hope that's not silver…" Roland says with a hint of concern.

Argent just growls as his balance finally destabilizes, the man stumbling sideways and banging his right arm on the wall. The meatiness of it mitigates whatever pain he would've gotten from it though. Even then, he's too focused on trying to breathe as he feels the belts and undercoat of his attire continue to constrict his body in what practically feels lethal.

The zipper of his undercoat begins to move downwards as his torso barrels forward. Thick muscle swelled it in size, mass filling them out as he was given hefty pectorals. However, their musculature seemed to fade almost instantaneously as a softness accumulated around them. A tear quickly formed in his undershirt as fat bubbled into existence in his torso. A thick bush of hair was also growing across the area as well, overtaking the skin as a coarse fluffiness sprouted across his chest.

The zipper of his undercoat continued to move downwards before it was stopped by his third belt, which was located on his abdominal. Both his third and his fourth belts were all that remained, stretching and attempting to contain his thickening form to the best of their ability. Argent began to slump, body sliding down the wall as his oxygen intake was beginning to seem insufficient to his body's needs.

Luckily, all of that was about to be alleviated.

The zipper was the first to break apart as his abdomen started swelling in size. Abdominal muscles were the first to form, rippling outsides and etching into the fabric and leather of his clothing. His frame even was broadened to accompany this, the fourth belt being the next to snap and fall away.

His belly then bubbled. Much like his torso, his stomach was gaining weight as well. Fat filled the area, his belly going from toned to pudgy in seconds, then pudgy to chubby. Fat continued to accumulate in the area, constantly filling his belly until it was given a sizable gut that shattered his third belt and completely broke the zipper of his undercoat. It continues to extend beyond that, his undershirt riding up his belly to reveal thick hair growing across it.

The button holding his pants together was the next to snap under the pressure of his belly. Argent, breathing heavily now as he looked down at it. He was trying to keep it together, but there was obviously fear in his eyes. He then noticed the floor starting to get further away from him, a chill entering his legs as his height seemed to begin to shift. This was accompanied by the feeling of pressure in his back and legs.

That feeling in his back only seemed to build up more and more. Constantly and feverishly, it felt like something was trying to bust out of the base of his spine.

"A tail…" he whispers, the pieces falling into place.

"Yup. I do suggest you lower the seat of your pants a little just to let the little thing flow out more freely." Roland nonchalantly advised, as if he's trying to help.

Argent begrudgingly accepts, shakily moving a hand to his behind and lowering his pants a little. The building pressure seems to subside as he feels a more slithery feeling then come from the base of his spine. He didn't want to watch, but he knew what it was. The tail extended from his rump, growing and expanding as short fluff and fuzz sprouted from the flesh. It continues to extend until it reaches the length to brush the crus of his leg. Shortly after that the fur bushes out, thick in fluffiness and dusty brown in color. A proper wolf's tail.

Argent's breathing slows, getting heavier and deeper. It was almost guttural. "What will you… gain from this…" he says between breaths. "Once this is over I could still kill you where you stand!"

"Could, but not would." Roland says coyly, laying back on the wall he stood in front of. "There's a few things that still need to be put in still, but I think you'll be reconsidering those thoughts."

"Shut up!" Argent yells, his voice noticeably deeper and more bestial. He momentarily regains the strength to heave himself from the wall and move forward a few steps, but his new weight throws him off balance again and he quickly stumbles to the other end of the room. He's prompted to hold the sill of the window he shot through.

The sleeves of his trenchcoat finally break apart as his skin begins to show, and his chest continues to gain visibility as his body continues to bloat and fatten. It seems to slow, though, as if it were finally reaching its apex. Thick hair carpets his chest even more, an almost furry look seeming to envelope it as brown and grays spiral around the region. It looked to be even thicker than what Roland possessed.

He tries to readjust his legs, his pants tightening even more as the muscles within that area begin to bulk up as well. The seat of his pants filled out more and more, his rump plumping as fat filled it out. It was becoming big, round, and squishy. The expansion of his rear got to a point that the seat of his pants split rather quickly, his underwear struggling to stretch themselves over his buttocks.

At the same time the seams of the sides of his pants started to tear apart, his thigh muscles swelling in size. Quads and hamstrings working out in tandem, thickening and bloating with increasing muscle mass. A softness rounded out the ridges as fat accumulation soon followed. And much like his arms, the bones in his legs shifted structure, lengthening and strengthening in order to support his weight better.

Similar changes were being mirrored beneath his knees, his calves growing larger and pushing up against the leather of his boots. Their swelling pulled against the strings of his footwear, pulling at them and effortlessly snapping them. Thick hairs also grew plentiful around his legs as well.

His boots were already pretty tight but as the final swath of changes reached his feet his footwear was pushed to its limit. The toecaps bulged, his toes pushing up to them as his feet grew even larger. He could feel pressure in his nails, no doubt them gaining the same dull claw feature as his fingernails. His soles itched, hardening with calluses and etching with scars. It wasn't long before his boots finally gave way, feet bursting out of them, crawling out the fractured brown leather and feeling the chill of the air. Dense, curly hairs grew upon the back of his feet as well.

The remains of his boots easily slipped off as Argent started stumbling around again. He wasn't acclimated to this weight, this size. His pants tore against his moving legs, the sleeves of his shirt tearing apart as well. His uniform was in tatters at this point.

His footsteps are heavy on the wooden floorboards of the bedroom. His mind races as he begins to realize only one part of his body is left unchanged. His head…

"Here…" Roland says as he walks towards the worried hunter. Sharpening his claws, he grips onto Argent's undershirt and tears off a large chunk of it. He does the same to the hunter's overcoat, but leaves the trenchcoat on. "Consider this an exoneration of your sins, best hunter of the guild."

Now Argent's newly formed, hairy chest and belly were mostly visible to the world. "That's a body I like…" Roland whispers lustfully.

Argent lets out a shuddered breath, but tries to put up a front. "B… big mistake…"

"I think the only one who's made a mistake here is you." Now Roland is the one with the cocky smile. Despite Argent's new height, towering over Roland by a little less than a foot, Roland doesn't seem to care. He doesn't seem to care that Argent could go toe to toe with him on equal footing. He doesn't care about anything at all. Instead, he embraces Argent in a hug, nestling his head into the hunter's burly chest.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing-" Argent says with a literal growl escaping his throat.

Roland only gives him a single response. "Your voice is so deep. So sexy…"

Argent's chest warmed at the… the compliment? What the…

One of Roland's hands starts to slip downward, trailing down the larger man's spine. It's soft. It's sensual. It's…

"Your heart is beating faster," Roland starts. "I can smell it off you as well. You can sense it too, yeah?"

Argent just swallowed a lump in his throat. "I… I…"

Roland's hand then dashes upwards and onto Argent's head. He begins to ruffle the man's hair. "Why don't we speed this up. Go on, hunter. Give in. Well, you won't be a hunter anymore after this…"

Argent shuddered, but he was finding it hard to be afraid. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's… enjoying it. "Nngh, must… resist…"

It became hard to do so, though. Argent's ears started to sharpen to a point, shifting in structure to become more triangular. Lupine. They pulled upwards and after a few seconds sat atop his head. Brown fur practically covered them in an instant after that. Roland then repositioned his hand and… started scratching behind one.

"You love this, don't you Bertie…"

"Mmph… yeah…" Argent's cheeks flushed. "W-wait, no… can't… nngh…"

"Stop resisting," Roland uses his strength to grip Argent's body closer. His head positions itself to look at Argent's face. "Don't you feel it? Everything finally kicking into gear?"

Argent's face itched, and from this itch came longer stubble. His previously light stubble grew longer, curling in on itself and getting denser. Thick hairs grew into a mustache above his lip. Thicker hairs conglomerated into a beard. Even after forming a beard it seemed to get thicker, denser, longer and fluffier. It has the same fur-like density as his chest hair, it had the same coloration and scale of grayness to it. It was a beard that felt so… so fluffy…

"My… head's hurtin'..." Argent says. His voice seems to lower more, a husky tone gaining prominence than it did before. Roland then stops scratching his ear in order to reposition the hand under his chin and scratches that instead, stimulating the beard fur and his mind.

"A good scratch always makes you feel better, Bertie." Roland's voice seems so filled with fondness.

"That's not my…"

"Oh but it is," Roland interrupts. "Bertolf Forrester."

Argent's head slumps at the sound of the name. It sounds so… good. Proper. Correct.

His head starts to restructure, face growing wider and rounder, cheeks filling with fat as it becomes squishier. His nostrils flare up as his nose expands, rounding out. His youthfulness also starts draining, skin gaining age as it gets rougher and older. Signs of aging crept besides his eyes and mouth, circulating around his face. His eyebrows become thicker. His eyes become a little wider. He goes from looking like a cocky young adult to a friendly older man.

His age has been shot up; twenties, thirties, fourties. His face, his body, settles at being in his early fifties with small amounts of gray etching into the hair on his head. As for the remainder of the hair on his head; the dirty blonde changes shade into a deep brown. The fringe style of it shortens, follicles twisting as it becomes a shorter, curlier style.

"K…keep goin'..." the now older man whispers, almost pleasured by this.

"Feeling any better, Bertie?"

"I…" Argent squeezes his eyes. "I can't… I need to…"

In a second the positions of Roland's hands switch. One remains around the body of Argent, but the other switches back to behind him and moves downwards to his butt. Roland then gives it a firm squeeze. "Let. It. All. Go."

Argent begins to slump, something possessing him as his back arches and his face grows closer to Roland's. Resistance is getting harder. That urge to give in increases with each act Roland does to him. He wants to hate the werewolf but something in his mind was preventing him. He's getting filled with affection for Roland. To…

A part of him tries to escape one final time. A futile attempt to pull away, but he finds himself confused. He finds his entire sense of self confused. Why is he… why is he so afraid? Why doesn't he want to give in? What stops him from giving in?

Something shifts within him. He begins to move closer, his fears subsiding rapidly. Technically, his whole identity subsides. Years of hunting and killing unjustly. Years of satisfaction at the sight of bloodshed. They are washed out of his mind in an instant. The only hunting he seems to care about is going out into the forest and looking for a good deer to slay.

His eyes snap away from Roland's, he looks to where his… weapon was meant to be. He doesn't know what to expect, but he finds a weird conglomeration of wood and metal that seems to be growing larger. It looked less like whatever it used to be. It looked like an axe.

Something on his body shifts as well. Tightness alleviating, material getting slightly more comfortable. He doesn't look, but part of him knows what's happening.

The bottom of his trenchcoat slinked upwards until it nestled at his hips. The buttons of it shifted from metal to plastic, growing slightly smaller. The material softens, thinning out into something more cottony and casual. Then there's the coloration, dull brown becoming a red, gaining a pattern as bold red lines of various shades criss-crossed around the new material giving it a plaid look. The trenchcoat's collar shrinks as it's lapel dissipates, and the collar itself folds downwards into a different kind of collar. He can feel shreds of clothing slink away from his arms as well, his new flannel being given a torn sleeve look.

His pants are the only other article of clothing that shifts. Size altering to fit his new meaty legs, deep brown shifting into a dark blue. The material hardened as it altered, becoming denim as multiple pockets seemed to fade into the material with only two front pockets and two back ones staying. The bottoms of the new jeans wear and shred, the denim clearly having gone through many arduous experiences. All that remains is a belt, one of the only ones that remained on his body slithering around it and nestling around the loops of his jeans. It remains unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned.

Shreds of his former clothing still do remain, though, but all of the significance of them fades. All Argent can think of is Roland, love welling up within the man.

Roland uncups the man's butt and lifts his hand to the back of Argent's head. "Let's finish this…" he says with a smirk as he begins to lower Argent's head to his own. After a few seconds of leaning in…

Their lips finally touch.

Bertolf's eyes flitter as his head is filled with memories. New information was given to him at a rapid, near instantaneous pace. His life as a lycanthrope, his job as a lumberjack. Everything associated with that as fifty two years of information was shoved into his mind. His personality was altered, his emotions were altered. Everything was becoming this new being, the former monster hunter being erased completely from the mind of this man. This continues for a minute. And in that minute, everything is set in stone within Bertolf.

They then break away, both participants breathing heavily.

Bertolf takes a few moments to take everything in, but once he comes to his senses he speaks. "Wh… what was I talkin' 'bout again?"

Roland shrugs. "I don't think it'll matter."

Bertolf tilts his head, a brow raising, but doesn't question it. With a deep laugh he says, "Can't even remember what we were doing!"

He then takes a few steps back and looks around. "The heck happen to the window? And why do I smell… silver…"

Roland just walks closer to him. "While you were out I had a little skirmish with an intruder. They were dealt with rather quickly, though…"

Bertolf eyes Roland. "Rolly, please don' tell me ya' killed 'em."

Roland rolled his eyes. "No, no! Just gave him a good bite. You know I hate the taste of human blood anyway."

"Yuh, yuh, you always say that. Good thing it ain't a full moon or you woulda made a powerful new enemy, heh."

Roland just nods before his stomach growls. One of Bertolf's ears flick at the sound, the man smiling. "Ough, guess someone's hungry!"

"Yup."

"Then I'll start preppin' dinner! Should have some leftover deer meat in the freezer."

"Heh, you always make the best deer, Bertie."

"Awh, thank ya!"

Bertolf takes a few steps, but stops when he notices his trusty axe on the ground. He picks it up and eyes it, sniffing an unfamiliar smell from it. "That guy who snuck in here tried to use this as well, huh?"

Roland took a few seconds to come up with a response. "Yyyep. Shot- I mean, sliced my arm pretty good."

Bertolf questions the legitimacy for a moment, noticing the lack of blood on the axe's blade, but chooses to ignore it. Turning around he heaves the axe onto his shoulder and smiles. "I'll find a better place to put this then. For now though: deer!"

The older man then leaves the bedroom, ideas running around for how to prep dinner. Roland can hear an exasperated sigh as his husband enters the living room, presumably noticing the mess he made in there earlier. With a soft chuckle he says something before Bertolf could comment. "Sorry about the living room by the way! Things got feisty."

"And I thought it was only us who got feisty in here!" Bertolf yells back, then follows up his comment with a deep laugh. It fills Roland with warmth. Amorous warmth.

Tenseness drains from him as he truly calms down. He looks around at the bedroom. Glass shards strewn across the floor, blood pooling near and on the bed. Both are going to be bitches to clean.

He then eyes a single hole on the floor, nose scrunching up as he smells the atrocious odor of silver. He walks over it and bends down, unsheathing his claws and digging them into the hole. He pulls out a single silver bullet.

"We both took a gamble here. Seems like you were the one that lost."

He stands back up and begins to saunter towards the door threshold. He deposits the bullet in one of the few things that remained upright in the room, a small trash can beside the doorway, and then walks out.

His plan was successful. It likely won't be one that would be repeatable, but it was successful nonetheless. He managed to take down one of the most prolific hunters in the guild. The very thought made him shiver with pride. Spells like the one he used were always unpredictable, and that was if they even worked. He's not sure what he expected as a result, but a new husband was at the very least a desirable option.

He peers into the kitchen, his golden eyes watching Bertolf pull a slab of deer meat out the freezer and stare at it in thought. The man was ignorant of who he was. Who his ideals used to be. Who his allegiance used to be to.

Was this result too much of a reward for the acts he committed? Maybe it was. But does it matter? Argent Chandler is just a faded entity now. Gone from this world. In his stead was someone better. Someone loving, someone caring.

Roland inhales, then exhales. Then smiles. Loneliness is long forgotten now. He has someone he loves, and someone who loves him back, and…

And there was no taking that from him now.

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

Mission No° 479: October 31, 20XX

Target Name: Roland Forrester

Agent On-Call: Agent No° 47 ~ Argent Chandler

Status of Mission: Unfulfilled [ICED]

Date of Icing: December 1, 20XX

Reason of Icing: Agent No° 47 (Argent Chandler) was dispatched to take out the target at roughly 11pm on the date shown. His last message to any other agent was at 11:32pm. Since then he has gone missing for roughly a month. Agent No° 52 (Mariana Gigan) was dispatched to the location fifteen days after Agent No° 47's disappearance with the intent to locate a possible body. All she found was a cabin with two noticeable lycanthrope members. She did not engage and instead left unnoticed.

It should be noted that the cabin was stated to only have one inhabitant until fairly recently. We theorize that the original lycanthrope in question (Roland Forrester) managed to conduct a turning that seemed to shift Agent No° 47 in a different manner than usual. We are unsure how such an occurrence could happen, nor do we wish to investigate it unless we are prompted to by an orderer. As a result this case is now iced and will not be reopened further_

#character tf #transformation #human tf #bara tf #weight gain tf #male transformation #tf

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 2 years

Text

Imagine going present shopping for the Avengers…

A/n: Happy Holidays you beautiful humans!! I wish you so much love and safe festivities x

Tinsel shone in its glory as workers climbed their tall ladders to fix decorations to a large tree on the street. Snow fall had started early this year and the city was alive once again. Despite the turbulence of heroes and villains, people flocked to their closest stores and exited with wrapped boxes and bags - it really was starting to feel like Christmas.

Clint had called you an hour ago requesting some assistance for an undisclosed emergency. Thankful that you were at the tower at the time, the journey to the shopping square was easy on foot but when there was no Hawkeye present, you guessed that he was stuck in traffic.

Buzz! You lifted your phone and saw a text message.

Running late. Start without me. Will keep you updated. - H

As you read the text, you made a note to ask him why he kept signing off as Hawkeye instead of his real name.

With him out of the picture for a while, a head start with gift buying for the team was a good idea. Everyone was off on their own adventures this year, some on missions, some off-world. You didn’t know their exact locations but you figured that you could get some help from a certain Sorcerer Supreme on Bleeker Street.

Forty minutes or so had passed with Clint sending regular updates of his location while also offering gift advice and you shopped around.

Found an amazing green scarf. Banner or Hulk? You typed out.

Definitely the big guy. Apparently he told Bruce that he liked how soft they were. Clint replied.

Funnily enough, you could imagine the Hulk making the argument about scarves. Easily, you proceeded to make the purchase. As you stepped outside, the wind was far colder than before so you decided to walk towards a coffee shop for a warm drink and to rest your arms.

Adjusting the bags around your wrists as they become uncomfortable, you tried to put the receipt into your pocket. You glanced up every so often to make sure that you didn’t bump into people when a voice approached from the side.

“I’m so sorry.” Clint apologised as he caught up. You paused your steps with a smile, happy that he had finally made it. “I was on my way when I saw a mugging take place. After I dealt with that I thought a cab would be quicker.”

Classic hero move. You lifted your arms to display the marvellous holiday themed bags. “My spirit cannot be crushed, Barton. I’m invincible.”

“I actually forgot how much you love this time of year.” Clint chuckled as took a few bags away to help lighten the load which you greatly appreciated.

“So what’s the emergency?” You wondered.

The man huffed as his shoulders slackened. “Christmas gifts for Laura and the kids - I’ve been so caught up in spending time with them that I didn’t get a chance to buy anything.” He looked at your blank expression and rolled his eyes. “Go ahead and judge.”

You sent him a small shrug. “I would but I was going to bribe Stephen with my homemade eggnog to use his magic portals as a personal present delivery system so…”

Clint raised his free hand, “No judgement here.” He gave a small laugh that finished on a sigh when he looked around at the people. “Navigating the busy crowds is going to be a challenge.”

“You’ve got me, what could go wrong?”

Clint smirked. “I can think of at least ten things.”

You took his arm and merrily pulled your friend onto the snowy streets. “Alright, Grinch. Let’s get some hot cocoa to warm that heart.”

While walking to the coffee house, Clint took a sneak peek through the bags and you were glad that his gift was safely hidden in your cupboard. You had created a new bow after he complained that his current one wasn’t the best for stealth.

“What’s this?” Clint pulled out a black box that looked very expensive. “An extra special something for a special someone?” He teased.

You lunged forward to take it from his palm, forgetting to hide it. You knew who he was referring to but you chose not to confirm the suspicions and tucked the item away into your pocket.

“That’s meant to be a secret. You only found out accidentally.” You reminded. “Besides I’m not sure if I’ll even it give to…”

“Y/n, if you don’t give it to the one person who actually makes you happy, I will. Got it? Christmas is the time for confessions of love or pining or whatever it is that you both have going.”

As much fun as Clint could be, you knew that his words were serious after all, even he was tired of seeing people dance around feelings. So you promised to deliver the special present as well.

The quest for gifts for his kids wasn’t a large task because Clint knew the perfect items. In under an hour, you both had everything wrapped or boxed or bagged and then loaded into your car for a quick trip to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Upon arriving at Bleeker Street, you parked in a concealed area that was reserved for the Avengers. You and Clint pulled out the presents for the team before stepping onto the porch and knocking thrice. On the third knock, you both were transported inside the Sanctum suddenly.

Clint exhaled. “I remember why I don’t like coming here.”

You heard him but was more preoccupied with finding the wizard donning the red cloak. “Happy Holidays, Stephen!” You called out holding up the neatly bowed bottle. “I brought you some of my special eggnog.”

Clint looked around at the empty space when silence began to fill the room. “This isn’t going to work. He’s too busy with the universe to-”

There was the sound of footsteps before Stephen appeared from a hidden doorway. He approached and saw the drink in your hands.

“I am not the postal system, Y/n.” He told you slightly annoyed.

You nodded and handed him the bottle nonethless. “Be that as it may, you do still owe me from the time you accidentally turned the whole team into hermit crabs and then you erased their memory because it was so traumatic.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

Stephen’s jaw clenched when he remembered how that ordeal only ended with your help and discretion (that is, up until this very moment). He sighed and raised his hands, summoning several portals. “Where are the presents?”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #the avengers imagine #the avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

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falconcoast · 1 year

Text

an eye for an eye | childe x reader | one.

mission one, part one: the dotted line.

masterlist

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the professor offers childe a contract to begin training for the heist with you.

a/n: me when she uploads consistently :shocked: !!! anyways take this while i ignore my summer work and playing resident evil 2 xoxoxo

tw: mention of knives, swearing

“I’m sorry, he’s my what?” you sputtered, exasperated. You looked over at your new partner, whose eyes were trained on your boss. And the code name “Childe”; who the hell named themselves that?! “Professor, you can not be serious--”

“I’m as serious as your C in Liyuean Post-Archon War Literature,” he answered easily.

You scowled. “Below the belt, Professor, below the damn belt.”

Childe let out a little huff of laughter beside you, quickly shut up by your elbow in his side.

“He’s a banker from Snezhnaya,” Professor Zhongli explained. “I’ve hired him for this especially important heist.”

You raised an eyebrow. Whenever Mr. Zhongli interviewed someone, he was thorough about it. As far as you knew, he had only thought about this in the seven months since the accident. Your own interview process lasted up to nine months--what kind of bullshit was this? And a banker? At least you had some knowledge of the artifacts you worked with before you ever got hired by the Professor. You opened your mouth to speak your mind on this.

He ignored you, pressing a button under his desk. The screen behind him flickered on, showing a revolving set of artifacts. Professor Zhongli smiled just at the sight of it.

“As you know, I am always interested in recovering the Geo Archon’s artifacts,” he smiled. Rolling back in his chair, he pointed. “A set of artifacts is said to have been wielded by Rex Lapis. It is called the Archaic Petra.”

“The first is the Flower of The Creviced Cliff,” he announced, “It was a miracle performed by Rex Lapis. When he came into power, a cynic of his asked him how he would make life bloom in the barren mountains. From there, a flower made of minerals and rock formed. It was a promise by the archon that he would always provide for the people of Liyue, even in desperate situations.

He tapped the button again, revealing a golden flower with orange lining and brown leaves on the screen. He crossed his arms, letting out a small smile. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“It’s stunning,” your partner repeated, to which you openly frowned. Kiss-ass. “I can tell why you like it so much.”

“Yes, indeed. It is for this reason that I feel the obligation to protect it,” Professor Zhongli vowed. His face fell, brows creasing. “Unfortunately, it seems like some buyers in Yujing Terrace want to keep this beauty to themselves. So much so that they wish to auction it during a gala in Fontaine.

“So, the first part of the mission, you will fly out to Fontaine and be staying in a branch house before going to the gala and auction. You two will be alone there. Consider it a trial between the two of you.”

Your lips turned downwards again in dissatisfaction, but you said nothing more.

“Is it safe to assume that I’ll be getting some training before then, Mr. Zhongli?” Childe piped up beside you.

“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “Some workplaces require on-site training, but when you’re handling millions of dollars worth in artifacts, there’s little room for errors during the mission.”

He shuffled around to retrieve a schedule. “You’ll be taking on the identity of my graduate assistant shadowing my work. It’s identical to what your partner’s cover is right now. Confidential matters stay in my office. You do not discuss this with anyone else besides your partner and my in-house staff, Xiao, Ganyu, Xingqiu, and Chongyun. The museum staff stay out of this.”

“Understood,” Childe nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Mr. Zhongli shifted to pull out a few papers and a black pen.

“Your daily schedule, Monday through Friday, will be as follows: 9AM, cognitive training. 11AM, stealth training. 1-2PM, lunch. 2PM, equipment training. 3PM, mock heist. And at 5PM, you will be heading home,” he said while handing over. “This job is not for the faint of heart, Childe. If you understand, sign here.”

With a swift swish of ink, it was done.

“When Rex Lapis struck down his spear, the earth quaked beneath him. No more was the mystical phoenix in the sky. It dissipated into shards of beautiful gemstones,” you opened your palm to your crowd of visitors, revealing a gemstone the shade of honey. They gasped, eyes wide in wonder. “According to legend, that’s why northwestern Liyue has an abundance of this precious stone.”

Straightening your back, you finished up your museum tour in the Liyue section of the mythology exhibitions. You answered a few final questions, and then the crowd dissipated into the main hall. Pocketing the gemstone, you took a deep breath. Although you loved history, it could be exhausting.

Walking back, you thought of where you were heading next and scowled. In a few minutes, you would be watching your partner in action for the first time. Mr. Zhongli had ordered that you learn how to adapt to Childe, and not the other way around. Goddamn rookie.

Staring up at the rotunda, the mechanical metal model of Rex Lapis huffed out a puff against his long, golden whiskers as he circled the room. Right, you shouldn’t be complaining about a partner when you hadn’t seen him in action yet. Or at least, that was what Rex Lapis would say to that.

You breezed past the Mondstadt exhibition, where a rush of wind tumbled against your hair. The android version of the Wind God flew around the room, attached to carefully puppeteered strings, playing his songs on the lyre and accompanied by the sounds of songbirds. His wings swept up and down, sometimes greeting the guests in a cheerful tone. The artificially intelligent model of Barbatos was the newest addition to the Teyvat mythology exhibition. Something about his fluttering hair and quick-witted banter made the exhibit a little bit more lively and reminded you of home. Besides the Liyue Legends exhibit and the mural, you would say that this would be one of the best parts of the museum.

Passing through, you slipped by rows of ancient clay pottery, preserved after thousands of years. Ducking through the traditional art collection, you looked at the carefully curated pictures of painted landscapes on hanging scrolls. And finally, as you moved closer to where you needed to go, you passed by the grand mural.

Slipping through the back, you took a sharp right, down into the curator’s basement. The dank smell of artifacts waiting to be reviewed by the Professor cast long shadows against the walls. Your nose scrunched up in disgust, unimpressed by the scent. At the end of the hallway was a single door with a rickety door handle. You pushed it open, immediately hit with the fresher smell of mint and cold ventilation and wide open space, revealing the headquarters of the Professor.

Four rooms surrounded the commons with tinted glass walls: one for physical training, one for a break room, one with several foam blocks, and the last one for equipment training. The floor was lacquered in a black sheen, so shiny that you could see your reflection in it. Golden lighting highlighted the chiseled molding. At the back end of the room, a set of glass desks were all together with computers displaying several new missions available and Professor Zhongli’s anticipated schedule for the day. The screens on the walls also displayed the news. Ganyu was at her desk, running an analysis of Childe’s cognitive abilities.

The archivist looked up from her position at her desk. “Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully. “How was touring around those museum visitors?”

“It was good. They seemed to really like the story of Rex Lapis and the phoenix,” you hummed nonchalantly. Looking at her screen, your eyebrow raised at Childe’s cognitive skills. “Above average aptitude? He sure as hell doesn’t show it.”

“You should give him a chance. He’s extremely trained in on-the-spot speaking, too,” she complimented. “Prompted him with what to say if he got caught in a scenario and if I were security, I would’ve let him go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said thoughtlessly, clearly not going to give him a chance. You noted the time on your phone: 1:55PM. He would be coming out of stealth training with Xiao soon. You scowled; you didn’t want to deal with this piece of shit.

“Ganyu, I really don’t understand why the Professor thinks it’s such a good idea to pair me up with someone,” you say, flopping back onto one of the rolling chairs. You kicked your feet up onto the desk, sighing out a groan. “I mean, I think I’m okay on my own. I do my job and get it done fast!”

Ganyu looked at you with an empathetic gaze, tucking her blue hair behind her ear. Then, she clicks her mouse around a few times before showing the statistics of your mission. “Well, comparatively, your work alone has an average score of 92, with a standard deviation of six. When you worked with your last partner, you averaged 100. A 100, Y/N. You know, if he were here, he would say he was disapp--”

“Stop, he wouldn’t say that! He would never say that about me!” You exclaimed before sitting back down and slinking down into your chair. The world began to feel much bigger at that moment, and you felt so very small. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that, Ganyu. I-I don’t know what came over me.”

Her mouth turned into a sad, little smile. “You’re still processing the accident. It’s okay.”

As if on cue, Xiao and Childe walked into the commons. He wore sweats and a compression shirt that fitted around his chest nicely. Your brand-new partner noticed the tension in the air immediately. “Woah! Did I miss something important?” he asked, tilting his head like a puppy.

“Do you ever shut up?” you mutter under your breath. You twirled your chair to face Xiao. “How’d stealth training go?”

“He’s got heavy footsteps. I’m pretty sure that you’d get killed instantly with where he’s currently at.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry!” Childe piped up.

“That said, that’s nothing we can’t fix, Chariot,” Xiao said, dusting off his hands. He looked at the rookie beside him. “It’s lunchtime. Go grab whatever you put in the fridge this morning.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Ganyu said, clapping her hands. “You have to go have lunch with Childe. Professor’s orders, not ours. Xiao, you know the drill.”

“Huh?” you nearly snapped your neck as you looked back at her. Before you can say more, Xiao took your chair and slid it smoothly into the break room. “Hey!”

Childe smiled as he greeted you, happy as ever. “You get to spend lunch with me? I thought you didn’t even like me!”

“I don’t,” you answer instantly. You took a deep breath in and out. The Professor asked you to have lunch with Childe. It doesn’t matter what you think. You frowned as you take out your own lunch from the fridge. You sat across from him as you opened up your salad, poking at your lettuce. “So, uh, art thieving, huh? Not every day that we get a new recruit here.”

He perked up happily. “Yup! Art thieving!”

“But you’re, uh, a banker, right?” you tilt your head. “How the hell did you get wrapped up in this whole thing?”

Childe stirs his lunch--a bowl of a Snezhnayan soup that was red as blood--pursing his pink lips. “Mr. Zhongli asked me to help him out with something after we met at a restaurant near the art institute.”

You stared at him. “That’s it? That’s all it took? Meeting some stranger and saying yes to him?”

“Well, Mr. Zhongli is just that interesting of a man!” he countered.

Something in your gut made you feel like he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you dropped the subject. “You do realize that this is a helluva side gig, right? It’s high-risk, high reward. So, who are you doing this whole thing for?”

“My family. It’s not easy to move across the continent away from all five of them. But they need the support, and hey, I’m capable!” he shrugged easily. “A little more money doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Your gaze softened as you stared at your salad. “That’s sweet, actually,” you said quietly. Then, you snap out of it quickly. “And what about your physical experience? I’m sure Xiao’s been putting you through the motions with his training.”

Childe tilted his head, coral hair bouncing. “Nah, I’m good. I was a hockey player in high school and college. You know, there’s not much to do in that winter wasteland other than play hockey.” He chuckled lightly. “Damn. I miss those days.”

“Hockey, huh?” you said softly. “Not exactly a quiet sport, like tennis, but I do suppose it’s physically demanding. I have high hopes for your equipment training later today.”

“And what about you? I should get a question or two, right?” the redhead tilted his head. “Like, why do you have to have a code name while everyone else doesn’t?”

“You have a code name too, Childe. It’s not exclusive to me,” you rolled your eyes. “As for code names, I came up with them.”

“What? Why? Isn't it easier to use your real name?”

“No. I use a code name because it doesn’t compromise my identity if someone overhears me. And…real names mean you’re close to people.”

Childe looked at you, confused about what you meant. “What do you mean by that?”

You gazed at him as the dingy lighting of the break room highlighted his azure eyes. With a loud sigh, your eyes met and you clicked your nails against the wood of the table. “Don’t push it, rookie,” you said simply.

The rest of Childe’s training schedule went as planned, and you kept taking note of Childe and his behavior. He was always springy, bursting with energy. You received his energy with apathy, not caring for such a loud partner.

Equipment training went smoothly. He was able to wield a knife or two, manage his way around ropes, and could figure out how to use the bite-sized bugs for listening in on conversations. However, you had to cringe when he left a very noticeable hole in the wall from his use of a grappling hook.

However, the most interesting part of the day finally came: the mock heist.

You and Childe waited in the commons, staring at the end of the room. Childe looked at his phone before letting out a long whine. “Why can’t we go in already? It’s been ten minutes since he first went in there!” he complained. He had changed out of his sweats and compression shirt to tactical gear that matched your own.

You elbowed him. “The mock heist room takes a while to set up. It’s a large warehouse that Mr. Zhongli built for training. The floor goes in and out with randomized stages, ranging from fake city rooftops to small towns, to a model mansion, to mountain caps. He lays out an elaborate plan for a heist, and we’re supposed to follow it to a T.

“Where the hell does he get the money from?”

You shrugged. “He’s the best curator in the world and museums pay him a lot to just talk. Private organizations and charities pay him money under the table to pay us to steal back what they ask for. He spends that extra money to fund his private projects, like the Archaic Petra set we’re going after. Sometimes, he’ll even use some androids to simulate humans.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but his blue eyes shone with what you assumed was admiration. You let out a tut of appreciation to that. Finally, something you could agree with the rookie on.

Soon after, the door opened. “Afternoon, you two,” Mr. Zhongli greeted. “And Childe, welcome to your first fake heist.”

You stepped through the warehouse door first, getting a good look at the vast room from the top balcony at the front end. The set below, this time around, was a city block of rooftops. The buildings had blinking lights, complete with little sets of furniture inside them. There was a rotunda of a museum, several apartment buildings, a fire department, and a restaurant. The overhead speakers played the white noise of cars and honking. The lighting was dim, illuminated only by a thin strip of lights surrounding the parameters. That quickly changed when spotlights from the top of the warehouse swept over the rooftops. It looked exactly like a real city, just cut in half vertically.

You rolled your head and stretched your arms, ready for action. Childe looked in awe at the elaborate set. For any thief, this would be the ultimate toy.

“Today’s task is to get to the plastic statue somewhere in the set, and not get caught by the floodlights. There are clues hidden around to help you out. Each of the buildings is accessible, meaning that you can go inside the rooms. Make sure not to touch the floor-- we’re simulating the city rooftops, remember?” the Professor said. “I expect you both to work together on this because you are partners. No lone-wolfing, alright?”

“The hell are you looking at me for?!” you exclaimed.

“And finally, since this set is supposed to take place over city rooftops, we’ll have to simulate a fly-in with the harness and wires,” the Professor announced. “Chariot, show him the way.”

You sighed deeply, walking to the railing of the balcony. You grabbed two harnesses, buckling in Childe by the torso. “Ooh, a little handsy. I like it!” He grinned. You deadpanned at the Professor as if to ask him if this was really your partner.

You strapped yourself into your own harness, hooking both of you to high-tension wires. “The wires and harness will lift you up and bring you above the set. It will go across the set in a grid pattern, first horizontally, and then vertically. It will go fast, just like in real life. When you want to drop in, press that big button in front of the harness, and it will get close to the set for you to land.”

“‘Lift me up’? What the hell do you mean? You mean we’re gonna be dangling over that set?!”

The Professor looked at the both of you. “All ready to go?”

“Lift us up, Professor,” you affirmed. Childe screamed like, well, a child as the Professor hit a large, red button. He waved, smiling as he watched you two rise into the air.

The floodlights swept over the set as you held on to your harness. The same thrill of a heist overtook any annoyance you had with your new partner.

“So, like, are we gonna drop at the same time? Or are we gonna divide and conquer the block?” Childe asked, panicked looking at you. “Hey, what are--what the hell?!”

You began to press the button on the front of your harness, leaving Childe still up in the air.

And then, you dove right into the set, under the shadow of the floodlights.

taglist: @da-disappointment @neonnian @escapeis @duckyyyx

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact reader insert #childe

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imagineanime2022 · 2 years

Text

The Other Kid

Spirit Albarn (Platonic) X Male!Reader Maka Albarn (Platonic) X Male Reader

Word Count: 1470

Requested: Anon

Request: Hey, do you mind if i request oneshot or headcanon Spirit from soul eater with reader who is his son and Maka's little brother, reader was kind, smart guy but he really suck at fighting? (he is mesiter like Maka he use throwing knives)

Bossy anon

Warning: Self doubt

Spirit would often be seen hanging around Maka and making attempts at getting her to give him a chance at being a good Dad but given how loud his attempts were people never realised that he had a younger son.

Most of the time it was because his son was very good at hiding himself, he was smart and kind, never stood out in a crowd but he didn’t share the families abilities in fighting, he was more suited to stealth missions or information gathering, he was a meister and his weapons were a set of throwing knives two twin brothers who were physically more imposing then he could ever hope to be.

The day you met the twins everyone was rushing around, you were a year younger than Maka but you were very rarely seen together when you were at school, you tried your hardest to be identified as a separate person to your sister but the only people that had succeeded with so far were the twins who stuck to you like glue. The upperclassman had an exam and most of them were cramming in some last minute studies before everything started, you were trying to weave your way through them when someone knocked you off your feet, Hunter one of the twins caught you setting you back on balance while Levi the other twin reached out, his hand latched onto the wrist the the guy who had just knocked you over “I didn’t hear an apology.” Levi said, his voice light, almost playful. “That’s because I didn’t give one.” The boy answered, trying to tug his arm away instead, Levi pulled him closer twisting his arm up behind his back. “I doubt that you are going to get what you want, little brother.” Hunter smiled as he stepped away from you to stand in front of the boy his brother was holding. “Guys I appreciate the help but this isn’t necessary.” You stepped forward and they both looked at you. “I don’t think that’s true, you know we’ve seen you around-” “You're nice to everyone, no one is nice to you, that’s not fair.” Hunter started the sentence and Levi finished it squeezing at the boy's arm, the boy who had bumped into you turned to look back at you and glared. “Get your freaks under control.” He ordered. “They don’t belong to me.” You informed him “I don’t even know him.” “He’s right!” Levi’s eyes widened as he threw the boy at his older brother and jogged over to you, Hunter caught the boy around the throat but before you could see anything else Levi took up a large portion of your field of vision, now the twins themselves weren’t very muscly but they were tall, taller than average, they would probably hit the 6 foot mark in the next few years but what really scared people was the disconnect between their actions and their personality, they were rarely aggressive with their words and there was always a smile on their faces. “I’m Levi and that’s my brother Hunter, we’re twin throwing knives and you're a meister right?” “Yeah my names-” “(Y/N) we know who you are.” He smiled. “Alright what is going on here?” You recognised your father's voice immediately although the playfulness that was usually directed at you was gone when he addressed others. “I think he was about to apologise to (Y/N) for knocking him off his feet right?” Hunter asked, his arm now looped around the boy's neck as if he were hugging him. “Sorry.” The boy muttered. “No problem.” You answered, Levi and his brother shared a look, Hunter let go of the boy and he scurried away. “You three, Lord Death wants to see you.” Your father said pointing at you and the twins. That was the day that you were paired together and they had never left your side since, even after finding out that you weren’t the best at fighting, even after you explained that they would probably never make it to the level of death scythes.

Levi snapped his fingers in front of your face as you blinked rapidly, focusing back on the present “did you hear me little mouse?” Levi asked. “Huh?” You asked. “Seems our miester is a little preoccupied.” Hunter smiled as he leaned forward on his elbow. “Hmm.” Levi hummed “something going on?” “They’ll call for us soon.” You mumbled and they both frowned. “What are you talking about?” Hunter asked. “They send us out when the others are busy and we all know that the others are busy.” You answered as your father walked into your homeroom and caught your eye gesturing for you to follow him. “Told you.” You mumbled.

Your father led you to Lord Death who briefed you on your mission and sent you on your way. The mission was supposed to be more simple then this but with the number of people here you couldn’t fight them all, you gritted your teeth “Hey little mouse maybe we should just go.” Levi suggested. “That’s probably the best option.” Hunter said, you wanted to argue with them but honestly there was no way that you were going to get out of this alive fighting them head on, so you turned and left the way that you came but when you were a safe distance from the house you were faced with your sister. “How many?” She asked, this was probably the first thing that she had said to you in a couple of days, with all the missions that she was on, you never really crossed paths anymore. “10 maybe 12” You answered. “Head back, we'll take it from here.” She said and you turned away from her as the twins appeared on either side of you and you headed back to the DWMA.

After that mission it was difficult to catch you outside of lessons these days, the only people that really saw you were the twins and that was only because you all lived together but it was your father who came looking for you. He had a key to your house so it was uncommon for him to be there but when he knocked on your door it still made you jump a little. “(Y/N) can I come in?” He asked. “Yeah.” You answered, you were sitting at your desk working through something and when the door opened you didn’t even look up. “What’s going on kid?” He asked as he closed the door behind him. “What? Nothing.” You answered. “Nice try kid… Something is going on?” He asked. “What does it matter? I’m no help out there anyway.” You mumbled. “What does that mean?” Your Dad walked over only stopping when you finally turned to him. “It means you should probably worry about Maka, she’s the one that’s going to save the world.” You informed him. “The world doesn’t need changing.” You could see that he wanted to laugh but thought better of it. “This has something to do with the last mission.” “Why do you bother sending me anywhere?” You asked. “I can’t fight, I can’t help anyone, I’m not worth the effort if you have to send my sister on clean up duty.” “That’s not what that was.” Your father said. “No then enlighten me, I watched her walk in there, she wasn’t even worried about the number, what did you send me for!? To compare, see who’s better, see who’s worth the training?” “Is that what you think?” He asked. “Have you ever thought that we sent you because you are the best stealth miester that we have you and we sent you because we knew that you could get in and out without anyone ever seeing you?” “I-” “You compare yourself to your sister too much and honestly, you are nothing alike, that doesn’t make you better or worse than the other, you are just different and when you work together you are dangerous.” He explained. “Now go out there and talk to your friends, they are worried about you, they feel what you feel so you should explain it to them.” He gently ruffled your hair as you batted him away. “Hey Dad.” You called as he walked towards the door, he looked back at you “Maka might not tell you this but you're pretty amazing you know that?” You asked. “Thanks kid.” He said before disappearing out of the room. You took a deep breath as you looked at the door where you could see the twins sitting in the living room, you knew that you should talk to them so you stood up ready to explain everything and get back to being you were before after all you apparently had a new skill to work on.

Request Here!!

#soul eater oneshot #soul eater imagine #soul eater #spirit albarn #spirit albarn imagine #spirit albarn oneshot #maka albarn #maka albarn imagine #maka albarn oneshot #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #male reader

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sboochi · 1 year

Note

About your Astrid post I was wondering have you ever thought about how Astrid would show up in corona? The way I see it Astrid would show up threaten everyone with her axe, Stormfly would see Hiccup and then proceed to snuggle him (think Stormfly and Eret in httyd 2), and Toothless would rub his head against Astrid asking for pets and scratches (idk how the others would react I came here from httyd so I know that fandom the most). Anyway, love your art and please keep dragging me into this AU!

Astrid gets sent to Corona alone. Stoick trusts her: she's the best warrior in the village (besides him) and his future daughter in law. This is going to be a piece of cake for young Hofferson.

She arrives at castle town. This is a stealth mission, so obviously her strategy is to ask around if anyone has seen a boy with one leg and a dragon... While casually pointing her axe at them, because she is in a hurry, you know, her boyfriend could be in danger.

Someone tells her that there's a kid like her description who's been hanging out with the princess. Ah, she thinks, they must be keeping him as a war prisoner.

Astrid sneaks in the castle, which isn't too easy since Stormfly is with her, but she finally manages to find Hiccup. She waits until he's alone (are they using him as their inventor or something?), grabs him and she's about to run away, but three other kids interrupt their escape and start yelling to leave him alone. And what in Odin's name is Hiccup saying about friends??

So yeah what happens is: Astrid thinks Hiccup has been captured and tries to leave the castle with him, and Rapunzel, Merida and Jack think that Astrid is kidnapping him. It turns into this absurd scenario where everyone is pointing at each other and accusing them of being a bad guy (Toothless and Stormfly are playing in the background)

Eventually they solve the misunderstanding, but boy what a scene

#asks #robyn-hood-10 #text #tts au

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clonelyhours · 1 year

Text

Numb

Pairing(s): pre tbb! Echo x gn! Reader

Tags/warnings: angst, explosion, reader admits feelings

Word count: 1k

—

You had tagged along on a stealth mission to rescue the captured Jedi master Even Piell, from the Citadel. Unfortunately, the mission had gone south really fast and now, you and the others survivors were trying to escape. The group was so close to getting to their escape shuttle, but there was a massive problem. They were getting circled by various battle droids.

"The ship is surrounded!" Ahsoka informed the few who were next to her.

"We need to launch a full forward assault and take that vessel." Tarkin suggested.

"We may have a bigger problem," Obi-Wan sighed. "Those turrets. If we don't take them out, they will use them to destroy the shuttle and prevent our escape."

"Which is precisely why we should get aboard that shuttle and use the weapon system to decimate those droids!" The Captain snapped.

"Whatever we're gonna do, we better do it fast." You stood up from the ground and pointed at the sky, where a few commando droids were coming your way. The group quickly broke up, you making your way over to the second group. Arc troopers Fives and Echo covered you while you did so. Once you were safe, you joined them in shooting at incoming enemies.

"What's the plan?" Fives asked you.

"Someone has to get to the shuttle and use the weapon system." You muttered.

"That's a suicide mission." Echo argued. "Whose idea-"

"Tarkin's, but he's right. Someone has to get there before these droids blow up the ship. It's our only way off of this rock." You glanced back at the two.

"Oh no, you've got that look in your eye." Fives sighed. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine as long as you guys cover me." You waved them off. "Look, there's an opening. I can make it." You stepped forward,"I'm going in!" but before you could get any further, one of the arc troopers grabbed your hand and stopped you.

"No Y/N, it's too dangerous, there has to be another way!" Echo shook his helmeted head. You turned to face him, glancing down at his grip on you. Your gaze quickly shifted up to his visor, and then back to the ship. "This is my only chance to prove myself Echo, I have to at least try."

"You don't have to prove yourself to anyone-" he began, but you tugged your hand from his and took off running towards the shuttle. You were so focused on saving the day, you hadn't noticed the turret that was shot right in front of you until the ship exploded.

"No!" Echo yelled as the impact of the explosion threw your body to the ground. Everything went numb, you couldn't feel your arms, your legs, nor your head. At this point, you believed that you were dead. You couldn't hear or see anything either, at least for a moment. Soon, a ringing noise sounded in your ears, followed by someone yelling your name. "Y/N!"

It was Echo, the one who had told you not to do this. You knew that because he was the only clone there with a softer voice.

"I-I can't see, I can't feel anything!" You cried.

"Don't worry." He lifted your upper body and pulled you to cover. "I've got you."

"We have to go, now!" General Kenobi shouted.

"Fives, cover me!" Echo ordered his brother. The other did as told while Echo scooped you up into his arms. While Fives defended the two of you, Echo retreated with the others.

After successfully escaping from the Citadel and being rescued by Master Plo and his attack cruiser, you were immediately rushed to the infirmary. Despite the protests of the medics, Echo stayed by your side the whole time. "How are you feeling?" He asked in a hushed tone.

You avoided eye contact and instead, looked at the ceiling. "It's the same pain that I face everyday, Echo." You're voice cracked. "I feel like this every single day on the inside, because of you. I wish I couldn't feel anything, I wish that I couldn't feel a damn thing, that I could always be numb." The clone looked at you in shock, his heart aching for you.

"Y/N, what do you mean?" He began to reach for your hand, but you moved it away in pain.

"I should've died in that explosion, you should've left me." You began crying for the umpteenth time that day.

"Don't say that." Echo stood up from his seat and carefully sat on the bedside. He moved his hand next to your face and gently stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers. "Believe me, Captain Tarkin wouldn't stop suggesting that we leave you behind, but I wasn't gonna let that happen. I carried you the whole time." With his thumb, he carefully wiped your tears away. "And I for one am glad that you didn't die because if you did, I..." You slowly sat up with Echo's help and took a hold of his hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you did. I love you Y/N."

Your lips formed into a faint smile a sense of relief calming you down. "I love you too, Echo."

The clone tucked a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear and pressed his lips against your temple. "Don't ever think that you have to prove yourself to anyone ever again, you understand me?"

Without a word, you gave him a small nod and moved into his arms, where the two of you spent the rest of your time on the way back to Coruscant, cuddling.

#echo #ct 1409 #sw tcw #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars tcw #arc trooper echo #angst #the citadel #tcw

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lumilasi · 2 years

Text

Finished Franziska's redesigns. I just felt the old one came off too much like a "old Hollywood diva Wine-aunt", which, nothing wrong with that, but it's not what I needed for her character at this point. It's not what her character is like lol

(side note; the "dress" referred to in the second pic is the black-and-yellow one, not her magenta skirt look)

Bio below:

Name: Franziska Belmont

Nicknames: Frankie (Angus) Franzie/Cat of Doom (Youko, little Chimera child)

Age: Like with her brother, her exact current age is unknown, but she was in her late twenties/early thirties when she was infected with Reverence and became a demon. (She is roughly 5 years younger than her brother though)

Height: 168 cm

Former heiress who ran away from home and became a Bounty Hunter to spite her parents, blaming them for her brother's supposed "death"

Role: Works under one of Hanzoku's "family heads," Amalia Marek. (She'd actually met her sometime before Amalia left to find the source of her powers, and followed after her once she was infected as well.)

Family: Big brother Angus

Love interest: None

Friends: She gets along with most people around them, but especially likes talking with the Heart House head Taiga, and acts almost like a big sister for her boss' newest protege, Kujaku

Rival: Akiko & Toshiko (her stealth/tactical/speedy fighting style is similar to theirs, only more advanced due to having more experience and being stronger physically)

Powers:

She is incredibly fast and agile, and generally has an inhuman level of strength that can allow her to break trees in half and shatter walls with a kick. Frankie is also generally really stealthy, easily able to sneak up on people and slipping into even really secure and highly guarded places, without being noticed.

Her demonic powers have given her plenty of feline type abilities; her vision is excellently sharp even in the dark, she can move about dead quietly, her claws can cut through even metal, and Franziska is far more flexible than average human. She can also leap quite far and high.

She's very good with bladed weapons, and has an extremely good aim with throwing weapons, or firing a firearm. Franziska is also really good with picking locks.

She has some basic medical knowledge for emergencies, and like her brother is multilingual (this world's equivalents of English, Polish and Japanese, though unlike with her brother she only learned the latter after gaining her powers)

Weaknesses:

She's very afraid of losing her brother again due to their past, and might choose protecting him from perceived harm over doing her mission properly.

Franziska doesn't like water much due to being a feline demon, and therefore tends to not want to fight in areas full of water/someone with water based powers. (it does sometimes lead to comical situations when they try to get her to bathe...only Angus can convince her) It is likely that she developed this fear herself because the way she managed to kill the demonic beast was drowning it, in a way inheriting its fear.

(She wasn't like this as a normal human, and sometimes does feel frustrated about having this 'silly' weakness.)

Personality:

Franziska mostly appears as the opposite of her brother; friendly, social, clearly enjoying spending time with people and having attention to herself. She does however still value her own time, and can be very blunt if she wants to be left alone. She's generally seen as quite fearless by most, outside her odd water phobia.

Franziska has always been curious about more morbid topics, like Death and beliefs around it across the world/legends about dangerous beings, horror stories, etc. She often even asked Angus about his more difficult, gory jobs while he was a doctor. Something her parents of course did not approve of, as it didn't fit in the mold of "perfect daughter" they had. This has left her with some confidence issues, and needing approval for any sort of mentoring/parental figure.

While she appears friendly at first glance, Franziska is very cautious person and never lets on too much about what she's really thinking. She also really hates liars due to the big lie her parents told her, and will become very angry if she feels someone is trying to/has manipulated/lied to her/her brother. (foreshadowing to her story)

Her moral compass was twisted both by her life as a Bounty hunter for a while, and her demonic power infection; she wasn't always as ruthless and cold blooded as she is now, and sometimes laments on the fact/feels conflicted about how she's become nonchalant about death and killing people without even blinking.

BG STORY:

PART 1: Family Trouble

Franziska and Angus were the children of a well known merchant family, but neither was really happy with the role that was being pushed on them; Angus taking over the business he barely cared for, Frankie to go and find a husband so she could birth a heir. Franziska spent most of her time secretly reading about things her parents did not approve of, sneaking out of her home and pretending that she hadn't found "the right one" yet. Lot of her stealth skills/lockpicking skills were developed already at this phase in her life basically.

The only person she felt accepted her desire to be free and do whatever she wanted was her brother, Angus, and she often visited him in his workplace at the clinic. During one visit however, Angus' mentor caused an explosion by handling an object he did not understand properly, causing Franziska to lapse into a coma for months. Once she finally woke up, her parents claimed her brother had died in the explosion. (something she discovered was a lie later on.)

Furious, Franziska blamed her parents about his "death," as in her mind they had forced him to study magic in secret that resulted in this explosion, instead of providing him a safe enviroment with proper mentoring and no risk of someone ignorant touching his objects. She ends up running away eventually, as her parents are trying to force her to marry someone she did not like.

Part 2: Bounty Hunting

Sometime after running away, Franziska ends up joining a group of Bounty Hunters after managing to outsmart and steal their price from them. The group takes a liking to her and begins mentoring her, teaching her how to use weapons and how to fight properly. This group was led by a woman called Amalia Marek, who had some bizarre demonic powers that Franziska was curious about. She bonds with her a lot and Amalia becomes almost like a surrogate parenting figure for her for the few years they spend together.

Eventually, Amalia leaves the group in search of the origin of her newfound powers after developing some issues with them.

Then, during a mission Franziska's group is ambushed by a demonic mountain lion, and it kills all of her comrades, infecting her with some sort of dark magic. She eventually realizes it was the same power their former leader had, and decides to head after her in hopes for some guidance on what to do now. For her utter shock, once she finds Amalia, she also finds somebody else; her brother Angus, who was alive, and also infected with this power that was apparently called "Reverence." She decides to join the group, wanting to stay by her brother's side.

Unknowingly to her however, her parents had sent hunters after her to find and bring her home, and during a fight between them her power destabilizes briefly, almost killing her. Furious over the incident, her brother heads out to confront their parents once and for all, resulting in both of their deaths (one intentional, one accidental self-inflicted)

Fun Facts:

Unlike Angus, her blond haircolor (and dark eyebrows) is natural.

She's pansexual, but due to not trusting people easily, doesn't really have anyone she'd let that close.

She respects Amalia a lot as her former mentor, and takes her betrayal twice as hard as a result. (SPOILERS: Franziska is the one who ends up killing Amalia by the end of the story, as revenge for her brother's death that she blames her and Belladonna for)

She can get high on catnip, though not as strongly as actual feline beings.

Franziska gets along with her brother's boss Belladonna, although is aware as to why Angus does not like her, and mainly does it out of politeness and wanting to keep an eye on the witch in case she tries anything against Angus.

She sometimes jokingly rubs her cheek against her brother's face, making a purring noise. She's the only one Angus allows in his personal space without warning for the most part.

Franziska wasn't that phased after hearing about her brother's "research" phase, just commended him for being selective with his test subjects.

She did feel a little sad hearing how her mother accidentally killed herself, but ultimately did not have much sympathy left for either of them, given she felt extremely betrayed and used by her parents for their deceit and need to dictate who she was supposed to be.

Due to his water element powers, Franziska is a bit spooked of Azure. Because her fear is more connected to water than him as a person/his soul eater powers, Azure finds it more bizarre (and kind of funny, all he has to do is hold up a bubble of water and she hisses at him) rather than slightly upsetting as he normally would.

Franziska has only ever been afraid of her opponents when facing the Soul Eater twins Kuromoya & Kouka, namely because they seemed to actually be strong enough to match her brother who is immensely powerful now. (She's basically only afraid of people who feel powerful enough to actually kill Angus, typically meaning their Big Boss Hanzoku, or the Spider's son Soul Eater Jurou & Vigour Spirit Shura from the good guy side)

She doesn't always wear the suspenders-overlay skirt, mainly having it as an extra layer of protection for missions. She also tends to not use the suspenders properly when wearing it alongside her local-styled outfit, feeling it just doesn't look good together.

The magenta patch showing from her shirt collar opening is part of the shirt, rather than separate garment.

#artists on tumblr #oc reference #digital art #cat lady #cat girl #oc redesign #manga #anime #lumi’s art scribbles #lumi’s chaotic creations #lumi's art scribbles #lumi's chaotic creations #telepaths #Franziska Belmont #my oc #I like this design more than her old one for sure #the old one just doesn't really work for the kind of character she's meant to be anymore #her bio info is still a subject of revision as always #but the basics are there

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