#she doesn’t have wings but she does have a tail

[suguwu]

WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings. 

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.” 

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides. 

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.” 

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji. 

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet. 

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun. 

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair. 

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again. 

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa. 

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly. 

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.” 

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say. 

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering. 

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate. 

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod. 

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji. 

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath. 

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.” 

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!” 

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control. 

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.” 

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth. 

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.” 

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”  

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir. 

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”  

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum. 

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon. 

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.” 

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down. 

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.” 

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.” 

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky. 

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.” 

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.” 

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms. 

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately. 

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. 

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue. 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.” 

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” 

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo. 

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do. 

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training. 

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring. 

Life, ever unmoved, continues on. 

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle. 

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes. 

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist. 

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

[thegreatestheaver]

reblog to slap her bald head

[spyderschaos]

Astrid coming soon maybe

[thegnomelord]

just read about demon hunter reader and demon ghost cuddling, and the first thing i thought was how ghost would react if, one of these times, reader ends up having a wet dream and dry humping his ass 😋

about time that our demon thinks of getting laid, he's disgusted and turned on at the same time

Sorry this took a while lads :Dd, I'm getting back into writing after all that shit with my school but I got a summer job as an assistant medical worker with 12h shifts every other day so It might take a bit for me to write stuff.

Hush, Hunter

CW:NSFW, MDNI, demon Simon Ghost Riley x male hunter reader, grinding, wet dreams, handjob, blowjob, size difference (demon ghost is like 11 feet tall.)

Your ‘husband’ is strange, even by demon standards.

He grumbles about the inconvenience brought on by your mortal failings and fragility, growling whenever you have to stop at a gas station to buy food or at some dingy motel to sleep. He grumbles even more about being confined in the stolen human skin suit he's forced to wear to blend in.

You can ignore the stranger with the stolen face and hellfire eyes throwing dark glares at you for the most part, except for when the demon decides to make the binding ring around your finger heat up when you spend too long talking to the pretty cashier. And it only takes a few more seconds of not paying heed to the incessant burn before Ghost Simon looms behind you, glaring at the flustered cashier like she’s a fey trying to trick you into the Fey Lord’s court.

And the big bastard never gives you any explanation on why he’s acting like that, just drags you back to your car, slamming the doors closed with enough strength to shake the entire vehicle. He’s like a cat honestly; hisses at you, but doesn’t want to let you out of his sight or claws.

But when your nightmares get so bad your only chance of sleeping is on the floor, well hidden behind the bed with your back flush with the dingy motel wall, Ghost surprises you by laying down with you. Sure he grumbles about the demeaning position - laying like some mongrel dog - but he still does it.

Ghost is on his side, his broad muscular back to you, rough inky scales swallowing all the moonlight that filters through the blinds and turning him into a pitch black wall of muscle. He’s so still you might even think he’s sleeping – you know he’s not; demons aren’t tied to mortal laws, nor are they subject to time’s iron grip, that’s what makes hunting demons so dangerous. The only indication you have that he’s awake is the occasional twitch of his tail and the slight shuffle of his wings when you accidentally get closer to him in your attempt to get a comfortable position.

You flinch when his one wing spreads out and back, but the blanket of black and blood dyed feathers soon eases the tension in your body. Probably too quickly, definitely too quickly, but Ghost doesn’t draw attention to it and neither do you and the night is cold and he is blissfully warm and he stays stock still when you shuffle a bit closer. You're glad he pays no attention to you when you get comfortable against him, barely an inch of space between you two.

His feathers tickle your face, they’re softer than you’d expect a wrath demon to have, fluffy like the down of chicks. His scent invades your nose, rough leather and steel oil and something distinctly demonic you can’t name. . . but it’s strangely comforting.

Laying only an inch or two away from a demon goes against everything you’ve ever been taught. Your nerves should be on a razor’s edge, but instead you’re calm. You don’t know why your fucked up mind finds comfort in the fact a possible threat would need to go through half a ton of murderous wrath demon to get to you. And you don’t want to think about it either, you’ve had far too many sleepless nights for your brain to care how you manage to sleep so long as you do. And the moment you close your eyes, you’re out like a light.

Ghost has gotten used to your nightmares.

Just like his father’s absent love, your nightmares are consistent. He’s almost impressed how such a frail thing like you could hunt the likes of hydras and Hell Dukes when you barely sleep a wink most nights. The longest you’ve gone is a couple of hours of restful sleep before you woke up trying to claw your eyes out. You never talk about it, nor does he, Ghost may be a demon but he knows far too well how the mind can haunt someone.

And Ghost has gotten good at telling apart the individual nightmares by how you squirm in your sleep.

It takes a little longer for the nightmare to start than usual, but he knows you’re neck deep in it when you heart starts it’s frantic drumming in your chest. He ruffles his feathers as your hands grip his sides, your breath fanning over his skin. He thinks it might be the basilisk haunting you this time by the way you press yourself flush with his back, burying your face into the space between his shoulder blades until your nose is flush with his spine, back hunching to further shield your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t, nor will he ever, mention the low happy rumble that escapes him when you snuggle up to him. His feathers fluff up, the scratchy hair of his tail flattening down - about as silk soft as he can make them. It’s little better than throwing pearls before swine, you won’t remember any of this after all, but doing this strangely doesn’t feel as much of a burden as it should.

Usually the low deep purring growling will chase away your nightmares and lull you into a dreamless sleep for a little while, but not this time. You squirm against his back like an eel, muscles tensing to grip his sides until dregs of pain dance along his spine. Your breath fans across his scales, your heart pounding in his ears like that of a rabbit’s caught in a snare. He’s just about ready to turn around and wake you before he feels it—

Your arousal pokes his back, hard like iron.

Only now does he pick up the slight sweetness of arousal in your adrenaline rich scent. “Hm- fuck.” You mumble as you roll your hips to grind your cock against him. “Slow- fuck fuck- slow down.” You breathe out, and Ghost swears this must be another part of his father’s eternal punishment. The sudden thought that your dream is of a sexual nature smites him with all the intensity of his father’s rage.

Who do you think you are, taking his little mercies for granted? Who do you think you are, grinding against him like some mongrel mutt? Who do you think you are holding him as if you are more than the eventual reward for the maggots fervent prayers? Who do you think you are—

“Ghost- Simon. . .” His name, his original name, leaves your lips; it’s the softest he’s ever heard you speak.

“Human.” He seethes and rolls around, pushing the warm feeling –warm like a campfire compared to the blistering pits down below that usually dwell in his chest– out of his mind. “Disgusting.” You’re so small compared to him, your head could easily fit in his rough hand, a momentary lapse in the binding’s protection all that it would take for his flesh rending claws to cleave through your skull. He’s thought about it often, of the look in your eyes as your life fades, of how good your blood would taste, of how nice your shoulder would look with his teeth marks on it. . .

His hand is gentle as he reaches to brush your cheek, like he’s handling glass, rumbling when you lean into the touch. “Wretched thing.” He growls, hand sliding from your cheek to your back and pulling you close. He feels you nuzzle into his wide chest, carefully bullying his thigh between yours, steel hard muscle tensing to give you a good surface to grind on. “Nothing more but a mongrel waste of flesh.” He doesn’t notice how quickly his voice has lost heat, barely above a murmur as he listens to your breathless gasp and watches your back arch.

For someone usually so guarded, you are painfully naked in flesh and soul, responding so wantonly to his touches; from low moans to soft little murmurs of ‘Simon’ and ‘more’ that has him mindlessly rubbing his thigh against your crotch in hopes of getting more of those so painfully human sounds. You moan and nuzzle into his chest, your body like soft clay in his hands now that you’re no longer shackled by the chains of pride and prejudice that your mind conjures around him

You’re like a strange bug to him; a part of him wants to pin you down, to tear you apart with vicious claws and see if there’s anything different in the way your heart beats, in the way your lungs move, in the way you exist — something substantial to show why holding you in his arms doesn’t feel as degrading as it should.

He wonders, briefly, if this is what God saw that made him love Adam so much. Why God did not have the heart to kill Adam for his disobedience.

Greed moves his hands like they’re puppets on strings, flesh rending claws carefully tracing the bumps of old and fresh scars that dot your abdomen — perhaps you aren’t so pathetic, it takes strength to survive this long. Your skin prickles from his touch, your breath fanning over the rough belly scales protecting his front as his hand slowly moves down. He hooks a claw under the band of your underwear and pulls down until your cock springs out right into Ghost’s hand.

Ghost hasn’t seen many cocks before, why would he?, but a low sound comes from his chest at how neatly your cock fits in his hand, how neatly all of you fit against him. And only now does it dawn on him that he doesn’t know how to do this— he’s a wrath demon for fuck’s sake, he understands war and bloodshed like it’s the back of his hand, but this? This is new territory.

Well, he’s never been one to back down when he’s gotten this far.

His hand slowly closes into a fist, just a little loose around you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be anything but gentle in the way he strokes you. Your hips move on their own, gentle little rocks to fuck your cock into his fist and he follows along with the motion. It’s a little rough at first, he feels how the dry slide of his hand makes you shiver, but he soon finds a nice pace as your precum eases the glide of flesh on flesh.

He wants to see your face when you moan, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away from his chest when you cling to him so sweetly, your lips mindlessly ghosting over his scales. So he contends himself with coiling his tail around your leg, draping a wing over you so there’s a barrier between you and the rest of the world, so no creature from heaven high or deep below may entertain the thought of taking what’s his.

No good thing lasts for long.

He feels you wake like the first thaw in spring, slow and gradual, eyes fluttering open, mind still clouded with pleasure to really understand the position you’re in. He takes advantage of that, gripping your hip to keep you close, swirling his tumb in the precum beading at your head and squeezing his hand just right to coerce a breathless moan from your chest.

Then your eyes snap open, realisation hitting you with the same intensity as the punch you throw at his skull. But the ‘marriage’ turns that show of force into a gentle caress of the skull cheek of his ‘face’. “Ghost what the fuck are you-” You begin, cut off as another clench of his hand has you gripping his forearm and biting your lip to silence yourself. 

“Oh hush hunter.” Ghost rumbles low in his throat, his wing tensing behind your back to bring you in closer, soft blood dyed feathers encasing you in a cocoon of warmth against his cool belly scales. “No need to wake the other worms.” Disdain and mockery drip from his voice like molasses, yet strangely it doesn’t feel aimed at you. . . it must just be the pleasure making you believe that.

“You- bastard!” You snarl, trying to summon the hunter savagery that had been meticulously beaten into you, but it slumbers like a fat cat. “Fuck off- get away from me.” You aim to slam your fist against his scaled abdomen, just a little lower and to the side where the floating ribs should be, but all you manage is a slow caress of his side and back up his chest where you can feel his eternal soul burning beneath the flesh.

He laughs and slides his hand down, rolling your balls in his wide hand and squeezing just enough to be at the edge of pain– shit, that should not feel so good. You hiss and throw your head back despite the inherent danger of exposing your throat. He tilts his head down, ghostly breath washing over your ear, “We both know if you wanted this to stop you would have done so.” Oh, now you can just feel the mockery in his voice, sweet like honey that it is.

Some petulant part of you thinks of arguing, anything to retain what remains of your damn pride, but then he slides his hand back up, pressing your cock against your stomach and grinding the palm of his hand against your shaft and all the thoughts of arguing are pushed to the side by the tide of pleasure. Fuck, it’s been far too long since you ‘took care’ of things, it’s not like you have much time to wank off, let alone with Ghost hanging over your shoulder like some grim reaper. And hell, if any other hunter heard you let a damn demon jack you off, yours would be the next head put on the stake but. . . but Ghost is surprisingly gentle with you, not a single hint of pain coming from his touches, not even from his claws gently running down your side.

“Fine-” You suck in a sharp breath, head fixed to stare directly at his chest. “Make it quick.”

You feel him smirk against your ear, “As you wish, hunter.” He laughs lowly, like you’re nothing but a cute puppy chewing on his shoelaces, “Though, you should thank me for debasing myself like this.” He growls, and with a sharp move of his wing he rolls you on your back. 

You gasp as your back hits the sleeping mat, and before you can even struggle Ghost looms over you, a wall of muscle and dark scaled flesh. “Fuck no.” You growl, some scraps of pride still clinging to your mind, though even those are threatened when his broad hand returns to stroking your cock, faster this time, the drag of his palm making pleasure sizzle up your spine. Your head rolls back to rest on the mat and you don’t even notice when you close your eyes. You’re not sure how Ghost is so good at this, something sharp like jealousy curling in your stomach at the thought of him doing this to someone else. But it’s hard to think when you can feel and hear him purring, his claws gently tracing your stomach and leaving lingering heat everywhere they touch.

You jump as something slick brushes over your balls, “Look, good hunter.” He growls and you listen without thought, eyes wide when you see his tongue— it extends from the darkness of his head just beneath the rotten upper teeth of his skull, long, black, thick strings of oil coloured spit dripping off his tongue. “That’s better,” He purrs; you’re not sure how he can talk, and you’re unable to ask because he leans in closer until your cock rests against his skull, his hellfire eyes burning in the darkness and giving just enough light for you to see his long black tongue curl around your base like a snake. 

Shit– he wants to kill you.

“Holy fuck Ghost-” You breathe out, lungs burning before you remember how to breathe. His tongue moves, squeezing your base and sliding lower to lap at your balls. You’re forced to bite your finger to stop the painfully pathetic sound burning on your tongue.

He stops moving and you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the whine that slips past your lips. “Simon.” He demands, oily spit clinging to your skin and making it tingle with heat.

“Simon.” You nod along dumbly, “Fuck- Simon.”

“Good.” You imagine he’s smiling when he says that, his hand returning to stroke your cock in reward. “Call me that again.” He says, a purr rumbling in his chest and you can’t help but moan at how the vibrations travel through his tongue, making it act like a vibrating toy.

Your hands fly to grip his horns, the pleasure making you throw your head back yet you try to keep your eyes on him, hiccuping his name between harsh breaths. He doesn’t mind the touch on his horns, leaning into the touch before flicking his tongue at your taint. He rewards you for each time you say his old name, tongue and hand working in tandem to slowly and steadily march you towards release. 

You try to tug on his horns to warn him, or maybe to pull him away, but he pays no heed; he doubles his efforts, wetly slurping at your balls and base while his hand toys with your crown, his free hand holding your hips down so all you can do is weather the pleasure until you’re finally pulled under the waves. “Simon-” You gasp, cum spurting all over his hand and your stomach. 

You watch through lidded eyes as he retracts his hand, keeping his gaze on you as he lazily licks up your cum from his hand. “Better than I expected.” He rumbles, more to himself than you, leaning up to drag his long slimy tongue across your stomach to gather up all your cum.

 Shit, that sight got you hard again before you could even soften.

You’re not sure if the greed you see spark in his eyes makes you scared or even harder, but you’re not left any room to think further about it before his tongue wraps around your cock again.

Unfortunately for you, demons have no concept of time as mortals know it, so his ‘quick’ ends up being the entire rest of the night. At one point you get to the point you’re sure Ghost is trying to kill you with all the pleasure, spit polishing your cock until he’s satisfied and by that point the sun is rising and your voice is hoarse.

You can’t meet the gaze of the motel receptionist in the morning, but Ghost Simon, looks smug like the cat who ate the canary.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone IV

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your toys are gone

Girl-swan gets juice spilt on her. Girl-moose is dropped in a puddle.

Both of them are filthy, covered in all the dirt that usually gets scrubbed off of you during bathtime.

Magda looks at them both with a raised brow, pinching girl-moose’s tail and girl-swan’s wing. She doesn’t want to really touch them with how dirty they are. She can’t really believe that you want to keep touching them when girl-swan’s wings are literally turning grey from how dirty she is.

She sighs deeply before throwing them into the washing machine, loading it up with washing powder and fabric softener and fiddling with the knobs until it’s on the most intense setting possible. Anything to get all the dirt and germs out.

She glances around before turning it on, spotting your baby blanket lying forgotten on the sofa.

You and Pernille are in your room, getting you dressed for another day at Chelsea training. You must have forgotten to bring it with you.

Magda picks it up. It doesn’t look outwardly dirty but she touches a wet patch and recoils. She brings it to her nose to smell it and relaxes slightly when all she smells is the milk you’ve spilled from breakfast.

She sighs though. It’s still dirty and she chucks it in the wash too, turning on the machine and leaving it to run. It should be finished by the time training finishes so all Magda needs to do is stick it in the dryer and it’ll all be fresh and warm for bedtime.

“We need to go!” She yells up the stairs,” Shoes and coats on please!”

You come barrelling down the stairs holding the gloves Zećira got you for your birthday. You’re wearing one of her full-sized Rosengård jerseys as well. It’s been rolled up as much as possible and tucked into your trackie bottoms and Magda kneels down to help you put on your shoes and coat.

You grab your usual training bag from where it’s sitting on the back of the dinner table chair, struggling to get it over both shoulders until Pernille helps you.

“Come on, come on!” You say,” Zećira’s teaching me penalties today!”

Pernille laughs at how quickly you try to get them out of the house but allows herself to be dragged along.

You have a lot of fun with Zećira at training and she does teach you about penalties. She shows you that you need to anticipate what way the penalty taker will move and you need to be quick enough to stop them.

(One day, you’ll be the most feared keeper to take a penalty against).

You’re happy for most of training until lunch.

Your food is sitting in front of you but you’ve not touched it. You keep digging through your bag. You look through it once then stop. You look through it again, your face getting more and more distressed the longer you search through it.

You practically look distraught by the time Magda arrives with her own food. Pernille’s still in the line but you’re sitting with Niamh, who looks worried over what she’s supposed to do.

Magda’s just sitting down when you burst into tears.

The scraping of cutlery and the chatter of voices dims as you sob.

“Lost!” You cry and Magda gently takes your bag from you. “They’re lost!”

Magda’s confused. Everything she packed in your bag this morning is still there and she rummages to the bottom of the bag and pulls out your keeper glove triumphantly.

“Not lost,” She assures you,” See, they’re right here!”

You look hopeful for a moment before you notice what’s in her hands. “No!” You cry,” Not my gloves!”

“Everything’s here,” Magda assures you,” Nothing’s lost. Nothing at all!”

“They are!” You insist.

“What’s lost?”

“My blankie!”

Magda feels a little bad.

“And my girl-swan and girl-moose!”

Magda suddenly feels a lot worse.

“They’re not lost!” She says quickly,” They’re not lost at all.”

“They are!” You cry, tugging your bag back so you keep empty it all over the table. “Not here!”

“They’re at home!” Magda explains before you start screeching,” They’re just in the wash.”

You take a break from crying to take in Magda’s words. Your bottom lip is still trembling but Magda thinks she’s done a good job at deescalating the situation…

Until you start crying again.

“You’re drowning them! Bad, Morsa! You’re drowning my friends!”

Yeah, Magda’s feeling horrible now.

She tries to pick you up but you refuse her touch, leaning away and clambering into a shell shocked Niamh’s lap, who has no idea what to do but bounce you on her knee.

“What’s going on?” Pernille asks. She’s hurried through the line quickly and places her plate down on the table. “What’s with the tears?”

You point an accusing finger at Magda. “My friends are gone! Morsa’s drowning them!”

“I put her swan, moose and blankie in the washing machine,” Magda explains.

“They’re drowning!” You insist, fat tears running down your cheeks,” They are! They are!”

Pernille sighs, picking you up before placing you on her lap as she slips into your seat. “They’re not drowning,” She says,” Your toys can swim.”

You sniffle. “Promise?”

“I promise. They can definitely swim.”

You wipe away your tears, flopping until you’re resting your ear against Pernille’s chest.

Magda feels terrible. She should have told you that your toys would be taking a little dip. You probably would have whined and made them late for training but that’s definitely a better alternative to this.

You remain morose and depressed all through training and it’s only when you get home that you perk up.

The washing machine is finished and you wrench it open.

Magda grabs your toys and blankie before you can.

“I’m sorry, Princesse,” She says to you,” But they’re still wet. They have to go to the dryer.”

“The dryer’s hot!” You shriek, looking close to tears all over again,” They’ll burn.”

Pernille picks you up, walking you up to your room to get you changed. “It’s just like the hairdryer,” She explains as you go,” And you don’t get burnt on the hairdryer, do you?”

“No, Momma.”

“Then your things won’t burn in the dryer.”

[metranart]

“I must admit you picked a pretty one, real pretty girl—” Dabi's grin only grew as Hawks’s scowl deepened. “—Let me know more about your new pet, Keigo. I usually can’t shut you up,” he smirked, reaping some humor from the nasty situation. 

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 12)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

“She doesn’t seem particularly special,” The leader of the League of Villains had hissed. Red, bloodshot eyes set on the wicked set of photos provided by Dabi, even though he wanted to look particularly uninterested in the material, he couldn’t stop flipping through each photo over, and over again. 

“Don´t tell me,” Mr. Compress peeked from behind Shigaraki’s shoulder to have a glimpse at the material, “—does Hawks have some kind of fucked-up crush on her?”

Dabi merely smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “Don´t know, don´t care.” 

Dabi was Hawks’ contact with the league, since he had introduced him to the group with some ‘I wanna change sides bullshit’, -which no one really believed. 

Since that day, the fire-bender used to tail the winged hero to keep an eye on him, what was his surprise when he found him raping you in a dark alley, after no less than having saved you of a Nomu, earlier that same day.  

His cellphone wasn’t the best but the photos he took were quality, clear and concise. 

Dabi didn’t even have to worry about being found out since Hawks was so smitten by you— Dabi could have been sitting on a garbage can across, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

So, he printed a few copies of this magnificent evidence against the prominent hero and went down to business. 

Shigaraki finally finished browsing the pictures, to glance up at him. 

“If you don’t care—why are you showing us these?” he fanned the photos on his hand. “Do you get off like this, you, sick staple-face?” The silver-haired leader wondered, knowing that Dabi’s actions always had a second agenda.

“What I get off with isn’t your business, crusty. But I thought it would be proof enough to trust the heroic birdie’s change of sides.” He shared, calmly. Uncrossing his arms from his chest to fish his hands inside his pockets, lazily leaning against the nearest wall.  

That had caught Shigaraki’s attention. 

“It could have been consensual….” The silver-haired suggested, holding in his hand a photo where Hawks was devouring your mouth while nailing you against the cold concrete of the wall – your little hands grabbing at his shoulders for sweet support while his held you up by the hips, way too greedily, you looked cock-drunk. 

Turning it around, showed it to the rest for a more unanimous opinion.

“She’s so pretty, like a cute little doll~” Toga shared dreamily, slowly leaning closer to snatch the photo from Shigaraki who effortlessly dodged her.

“Oh! That’s not correct, they are in public, how naughty! I can’t see…” Twice looked away to immediately spin around and look back to the photo, “if they did it like that, it’s because they like to be seen… Hawks is such a dog…” his other personality kicked in, starting a hilarious fight which, everyone ignored, except for toga who constantly giggled.

“The girl looks way too naïve to be doing that consensually,” Spinner judged without giving the photo a second look, his sense of justice feeling sickened by the fake winged hero’s actions.  

“-And on top of that, she looks way too young…. probably closer to Toga’s age, don’tcha agree?” Mr. Compress stated, fascinated by the lewd images.

They could probably sell them and aside from making some good money, they would dismantle the reputation of Hawks, Mr. Number Two Hero in the country. But why would they want to do that to a possible fellow villain?  

He couldn’t help but be… intrigued.

“I say we let him into the league, this…” Mr. Compress tapped at the photo with his finger, “is a despicable act of rampant carnality against a minor, and consensual or not, it’s still a crime.” 

Dabi agreed by nodding his head once. 

“Looks like it~” Toga agreed as well and soon Twice did too. “That little birdy is a bad birdy.”

Spinner grunted an affirmation, and Shigaraki sighed annoyed before announcing. “We’ll give him a chance, now he can join our meetings and some plans…. But he’s not part of the League yet, he’s on trial.”

Everyone agreed, and Shigaraki glanced at warp user who calmly approached. 

“Kurogiri, do me a favor and inform Hawks of our decision— and personally deliver these to him,” he handed over the photos and before releasing them, said, “Tell him it’s our warm welcome gift to the League of Villains.”

Kurogiri nodded, to then disappear in the back. 

Shigaraki scratched at his neck staring at Dabi. “You are still his contact, charred face. As your oldest acquaintance as you presented him…. -If ends up betraying us, you alone must kill him.”

Dabi entertained Shigaraki’s lofty order with sadistic patience before untroubled replied a short. 

“Noted.”

-

Meanwhile, Hawks was a mess, a beating uncomfortable mess. 

Slowly his wounds were healing, even though the encounter with Dabi had been a couple of days ago. Although he still paraded with a broken lip, traces of burns on his clavicle, torso and arms. His hero suit far from salvable, all scorched and stained with dried cum, —even part of his eyebrow had turned to ashes, not to mention, how affected his wings were, he was barely able to fly.

The blond sighed, tiredly.

Having to sneak through the window of his own agency so as not to arouse suspicion among his subordinates was beginning to bother him...... —he shouldn't have gotten carried away, he knew Dabi only wanted to annoy him, enflame his blood just out of sadistic entertainment.... Yet, he was stupid enough to allow him. 

In the last couple of days, instead of patrolling he had been sitting in his office, wasting precious time just analyzing every little detail of what had transpired between you and him…. how his rut ​​had gotten out of control thanks to your quirk. 

Whatever your fucking quirk was had a ridiculous effect on his instinctual responsiveness. Everything had felt good—fucking amazing, mind-blowing, life-changing—though right now, sober and away from your numbing effect, Keigo couldn’t decide if was just your quirk deluding him into thinking your pussy was the best he’d ever had, or if it really was. 

NO! Deep inside he knew it, YOU really were just that fucking incredible. 

His instincts didn’t lie. Actually, it was taking him a monumental effort not to fly to the UA dorms and snatch you away, back to him, safe by his side. 

It’s only been three days away from you and he was already feeling hopeless. Hawk’s mind wandered back to you... and to that stupid ‘welcome gift’. 

Once again, the League of Villains gift greeted him from his desk, without a doubt, this little bastard had been the catalyst for the fight with the fire-user.

Those damn photos that laid scattered all over, screaming his crude crime at him. Mocking and equally enticing for someone as warm-blooded as Hawks. Those damn photos were grotesque, heartbreakingly brutal to his psyche, raw evidence of his brutal attack against you… he hated them— but hated even more how much he had already used them to jack himself off. 

Normally, he would have managed to tame his libido with practiced control—just his imagination to enjoy the ride. But shit it was not fucking working. 

So, just to gauge the obvious upper hand the League of Villains held on him, he thought of scrutinize the photos. He needed to analyze the evidence, yet each printed scene was brought back to life in his mind…

Your pussy gripping him so gloriously, calling him home— that tight, lovely look on your face as you buried yourself onto his lap, taking him fully in one go was fucking thrilling. 

His breath shuddered, as his patience thinned in a matter of seconds. Not even taking himself out, started to stroke himself hard and fast, nose pressed into the poor remaining of his old hero jacket, he breathed in what still lingered of your sweet scent between the fibers.

“Baby bird~” He called brokenly. “Y/N…” His eyes closed at the thought of you. 

You were so smart and funny; it skyrocketed his excitement. The thrill of having another duel of wittiness almost made him cum on the spot. 

Not to mention how well you were fit together, those perfect tits he loved to see bouncing while he breed you… your perfect ass, which look much nicer with his handprint swelling onto the skin, and your pussy—fuck, he could almost replay how tight it felt around him, how viciously grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum straight into your fertile womb—making him wonder perhaps, he was already a dad. 

He wouldn’t mind, the commission will deal with the public eye, as he dealt with you and his chicks. 

The mere vision of you all swelled and round with his baby ended up doing it for him. He came, hard! in thick, hot spurts, all over the photos…. ropey, white streaks now decorating each single piece of evidence. 

“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. If he hadn’t been sitting down, his quivering knees would have failed him.  

Never has he ever spilled himself so wonderfully just by his own hand. You had him really stupefied, he idolized you, now you were his everything.

Goddamn it, he thought glaring at the stained pictures of him fucking into you. I have to add hypocrite to the list... that thought came almost automatically. He had almost maimed Dabi days ago for doing the same thing he had just done.

-

After receiving the envelope with photos, Kurogiri had disappeared into the blackness of the night leaving behind a frantic, inflamed and choleric, Takami Keigo.  

He had scanned quickly all the photos, and there was one—a close-up of your pretty face, flushed and sweaty, eyes close tight while you resisted his energetic thrusts: it was splotchy. A crusty, off-whitey stain splattered across your face in the picture.  

It felt like a blunt punch to his gut. His vision went red when at the tact, he recognized how cum looks like when it dries out.  

This was definitely Dabi´s reckless and mocking, signature.

His wings spread bristly and sharp, buzzing with anger, in a calculated jump leaped off the ground and pulled out his cellphone sending a text message.

Hawks.-

We need to talk.

Typing...

Touya.-

Sure, bucket of chicken, see you at the usual spot.

Hawks's eyes gleamed with cold rage as he sped up toward the meeting place.

“Endeavor saved the day again, with the help of hero Hawks, they rescued a student who was caught in the crossfire of a Nomu attack—” the reporter informed, while recorded scenes of the incident were played on the back. 

Dabi rested his elbows lazily on his knees as he waited for the birdman to show. He must be livid. Dabi thought, amused. His gaze analyzed the footage on the TV. Blue eyes watched Endeavor’s flames burn like a thousand suns, so intense and so irresponsible that if it weren’t for the bucket of chicken, you would have been charred— and that was, when he spotted it.

His bright blue eyes widening at the odd discovery. Rewinding it, he watched it again, and again, and again. The villain recorded every appearance of his father on the TV, to analyze it thoughtfully and so one day fry him to death, properly. 

It was a noticeable and severe, injury.

Endeavor's flames had licked at Hawks’ arm and part of his wing. Nevertheless, in the surveillance photos he had took out of a lucky strike, Hawks didn’t sport those injuries. How had he missed it?

What a peculiar oddity, the raven-haired villain thought, looking at one of the copies he kept for private usage.

The image printed on the paper was a true masterpiece. Dabi knew Hawks from way back, and the second the Hero joyfully requested to be accepted in the league of villains, claiming to the four winds that he wanted to change sides, Dabi knew he was playing the sordid spy. 

Even so, the villain played it by ear, taking advantage of what he could and discarding what was plain garbage. 

These photos, well, this were pure gold.... Hawks finally looked like the villain he pretended to be. Fucking the brains out of the poor student –whom he saved from death earlier– plunging inside your pristine pussy with ferality he had only witnessed when the blond was in heat, all of this at the commodities of some dirty alley. Your pretty face pressed against hard concrete while he carved the shape of his heroic cock deep inside you, more than ten photos supported this indecent act of Hero number two, a whole variety of sexual positions, a real feast to the eyes…. Not even Dabi himself could have done it better.  

The oldest Todoroki chuckled. Wicked gaze set on your pretty face…. What is your quirk? He wondered, obnoxiously intrigued by you.

You were like a mouse in the hawk's claws, squeaking and scurrying about ever so cutely. You had achieved what he never did, make Hawks reveal his darker side in plain light... Bravo! you deserved a standing ovation. Dabi was definitely hooked.

His fat and awfully hard cock pressed against his stomach was proof enough of how much he liked those photos, maybe he could give himself some relief before Keigo arrived, all bristle and aggressive. Dabi wished to welcome his oldest acquaintance, jacking himself off, looking at your pretty face contorted in pain and bliss. 

The smallest of smirks twisted his scarred lips when the wave of air from Hawks harsh landing, blown the skirts of his trench coat. Buh, too late…. 

“Hello there, birdy boy,” Picking the set of photos, stuffed them inside his trench coat and twirled around to meet him. “Tell me, how do you feel after getting your rocks off? —Let me be the first to tell ya, you are glowing.”

Dabi teased, proficiently. He could tell, behind those stormy, golden eyes of his, there were questions brewing. 

“—Who the fuck do you think you are, Dabi?!”

“What did I do?” the villain feigned mocking innocence, looking amusedly offended.

Hawks ignored the vile that dropped down his spine at hearing him replying so unabashedly.

“Do you have people tailing me?!” The blond growled low in his throat, “without a fucking doubt this Nomu attack was your thing-”

“Nah, nah, nah, birdy boy.” He shook his head, playfully. “That has Shigaraki’s signature all over it—don´t blame it on yours truly,” he said it like that on purpose, knowing it will unbalance him and... it did.

Dabi spared a glance his way, with that crazy look on his face he always gave when felt overly amused by a situation and continued explaining. “Dust-face wanted to test his new creation against number one hero... It turned out to be great disappointment.”

“—I bet not as disappointing as your father in you.” Keigo couldn’t stop the snarl that fell from his chest accompanying a wicked twitch on his lip. The blond was blazing with toxic anger, and Dabi entertained his punch under the belt with sadistic silence.

“After fucking a pretty student against her will in some dirty alley, one would think you'll in a better mood.” He grinned his most wicked grin. That comment had irked him. 

Takami Keigo was the only other being alive who knew about his sordid secret past, of course, that sensitive topic would eventually backfire at his face! After all, they used to tousle among the sheets during Hawks’s heats, and those kinds of topics were like their pillow talk. 

If they were a Heroic team, their name would be ‘The Daddy issues duo’. 

Dabi stared at him fully, and there was so much sadism or wickedness in what he said next, that it made his words all the more antagonizing.

“I must admit you picked a pretty one, real pretty girl—” his grin only grew as Hawks’s scowl deepened. “—Let me know more about this little cunt, Keigo. I usually can’t shut you up,” he smirked, reaping some humor from the situation. 

“Go on, I’m intrigued to know how firm her tits were, the tightness of her pussy—was she a virgin? -…” Hawks felt exasperated, almost at the verge of a fit, “... but what am I saying, of course she was! You damn criminal—”

His next words caught in his throat as Hawks rushed to him, in a vicious attack. Even been waiting for it, Dabi had trouble dodging it, his damn feathers were devilishly sharp against his staples.

A feral fight broke out, giant blue flames licked the walls of the abandoned building, thankfully the roof was already destroyed beforehand, otherwise it would have exploded, thus drawing the attention of some unwanted Hero who was patrolling around. 

Hawks viciously attacked him with precise movements, gliding around him and sneaking up to slash his chest with the long feather he was using as a sword. Dabi's agility was nothing to laugh at, anyone else would be cut in half but he only had a scratch, and the mourn of his favorite white shirt.

“You owe me a new shirt, birdbrains—”

The flame-user extended a glowing palm in preparation to attack, and Hawks fell directly into his trap, he dodged, anyway his other palm was already smoking and without preamble the raven-haired fired a puff of blazing blue flames which licked the crimson wings of the hero forcing him to take flight and stay away from him.

From up high, Keigo read the intentions in Dabi’s daring stance, as he calculated the risk of keep on teaching him a lesson. 

“You can’t just keep burning everything around you, Todoroki-” he said up high in the sky, emphasizing his last name since he knew, he hated it. Calculations had been made. 

The blond had decided he wanted to see the villain on his knees and begging for his unreachable forgiveness.

“Says who?” The white-hot glare in his turquoise eyes was as bright as the one on his palm, which smoldered into the bursting blue of flames as it lit up his fingers. “Says you? You stupid overly-sensitive pigeon—” he smirked a snort, looking up at him from the ground. Exposed chest heaving, and palms shining with dancing flames.

“Come down here with me, scared dove. I’m going to roast you! and then I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to fuck her RAW—” Dabi spread his arms out, theatrically. The stare on his eyes more vicious from the high angle of Hawks. “I think I’ll debut her sweet, virgin asshole, it must be SO tight and warm… by the way, did you like my gift?” 

The banter in his voice made Hawks hiss a low and dangerous curse, and when he peeked down at Touya’s hot glare, those pulsing eyes shone with something beyond just mockery, something akin lust... it was, pure hunger.  

“I had forgotten to thank you Keigo,” He tilted his head tauntingly, in false courtesy. “I didn't even remember when the last time I had rub one out like that—fucking mess I did… next time, I’ll cum in her REAL face.” 

Takami Keigo just saw red, his brain snapped, instincts overcame him. He knew had to be cautious, the black-haired villain was up to something, relentlessly taunting him… nevertheless, his body attacked, unable to control himself. 

“You’re NOT allowed to mention her!” Keigo swooped towards him, “—you’re a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as her!” 

The Hero wheeled around him slicing his trench coat through the back. The black leather fabric hugging his torso slipped to one side, and the photos safely kept in his inner pocket fell to the filthy ground. Hawks's fierce gaze landed on the pictures, and that scarce moment of hesitation was more than enough for Dabi.

Dabi’s flames spread across his wings like fire on dry leaves, the hero fell to the ground, spinning around to put them out and before he could adopt a defensive stance again… Dabi was on top of him. Beautiful cerulean flames licking at his fingers, as a wicked smile stretched across that stapled face.  

“—Oops! looks like I burned your precious wings,” The manic grin on his face had only made Keigo remember his number one rule: never underestimate Dabi. 

The blond just stared up at him, doing his best to stay compose.

“You don’t seem worried…” the villain accused, “I´ve been meaning to mention this: I can't see the wounds that my piece-of-shit father left you yesterday…” the sole of his boot pressed into Hawk’s chest to moved it from side to side while pretending to check, “that’s odd—you ought to solve this riddle for me, birdbrains.”

He stomped on his charred arm making him wince, and leant down to whisper, teasingly. “Do it, and I might even reward you,” he grinned too pleased, “-by letting you suck me off, as you love to.”  

Hawks grunted low, though it wasn’t the timber he had used before, it was different. Genuine displeasure leaked into his voice. “I don’t do that on purpose—”

“Yes, you, fucking do!” Dabi stressed, squatting down over his chest, hovering over the injured Hero. Fingers tensed as flames licked their tips. “Don't know if you heard blondie, but when you are in heat, it´s like if you were made to be fucked and breed by yours truly.”  The broad smirk that shifted his metallic staples made Keigo shift uncomfortably.  

Dabi was actually frustrating him. Hawks just wanted to erase that sly smile from his lips, too sly and self-indulgent, almost as if.... Oh!

To Dabi’s surprise, Hawks started to giggle- it seemed genuine. A real laugh. The blond couldn’t help it. His hunch was awfully hilarious.  

“Is that it, Dabi... really?” he asked, scoffing. A lonely brow raised on the fire-bender’s face, holding something close to bewilderment. “Are you really that jealous that now I have a mate, and I´ll no longer need you to help me with my ruts?” he kept on giggling, openly ignoring Dabi’s deadpanned frown “—how lame…” 

Dabi mumbled something intelligible to then snort and shrug, flatly. Shaking his head while straightening up, and not even a second apart, the kicks began. Each time harder to make sure he hurt the blond, his face never losing the same mask of boredom and indifference he was known for.  

“Don’t flatter yourself, hero imitation, you’re just a cumdump to me…” he informed, almost bored. “A flesh-light, if you prefer. It amuses me to see you squirm like a whore under my touch—"

Dabi wrinkled his nose, and Hawks chuckled, a teasing, annoying sound that only served to make Dabi hiss. 

“Nah, Touya’s jealous of a little schoolgirl,” the blond boasted, “…c’me here, and I’ll even gift you a kiss, so you can stop crying—” 

The blond taunted him sporting a broken lip, blows adorned his jaw, singed wings, and dirty and emaciated suit... Yet, his smile was devastatingly bewitching as he held out his arms, inviting the villain to take the space in between them. 

Dabi snarled, straddling his body once again and delivering withering blows. 

“—I’ll burn that fucking smirk of your ridiculous face, shitty hero.”  

No doubt Hawks knew how to rattle the Todoroki, not many had the ability to make his blood boil.  Hawks covered from the strikes with his forearms, and in a twist, he swiped his leg making Dabi stumble upon himself.

“Don't go around falling for me, Touya-” Keigo shared in all sarcasm and giggles only to receive a square punch in the face. 

Dabi sighed, fed off. “Not everyone is in love with you, you self-centered idiot.” He spat, grabbing Hawk’s jaw inside his fist. “That's why I hate heroes, they fall in love with their own legend—” the flame-user tightened his hand around his jaw and without letting go, hauled him up to face him.

“I'm intrigued, not jealous, you narcissistic jerk... there's a huge, gigantic difference …” Dabi sounded threatening and Keigo’s mouth shaped in the form of an ‘o’ as if realizing the true colors behind Touya’s actions, and just when he thought he had him figured out— his lips slammed against his in a coppery flavored kiss.  

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts

[brokenpieces-72]

Monster!141 x female! Jackalope/wendigo reader

CW/TW: poor eating habits, mentions of eating, mentions of human meat, crying, younger reader, note: in no way am I intending to offend anyone.

This was inspired by both @diejager and @bluegiragi and includes the reader character Hunter. This is also my first fanfiction being posted here and I have a couple to come if this one goes well.

A program is set up for hybrids that are considered difficult to control or dangerous to be around in public. Usually this is when their current living conditions are deemed as unsafe.

A jackalope with little knowledge of their own self fits both sides so locations and positions are set up for them to be in a safe controlled environment to learn how to keep themselves under control.

Price isn’t exactly happy when Laswell brings this to him. He’s not a babysitter and neither are his men. She explains to him there is little to be done and while she doesn’t agree with sending a vulnerable, uneducated, untrained teenager to a military base that deals with monsters, humans and hybrids alike, there isn’t much she can do either. Thankfully she does have some say in it, able to choose who comes on to the base. The files for candidates are sent to Price as well for review and upon looking at yours with a very dark and concerning past, he considers tossing it aside. Then he sees what hybrid you are. Having a few encounters in his past with hybrids like you he figures it would be safer taking you in then letting someone else get to you.

You do receive some training before transferring with a Retainer/handler who watches over you and determines whether you are ready to integrate into society. You aren’t sure if this will really help you join society but you figure it’s better someone taking you in rather than staying in the program. Price intends to put you to work after all and the location isn’t without risk. You’re told there are other hybrids on base, and you assume there will be at least a couple.

The first person you meet is Nikolai, the pilot for the awkward bumpy flight to base. He’s almost twice your height, plenty of people you have met are. You’re not very tall so not surprising, but you aren’t very used to people. Part of the program especially for you is keeping you isolated from most humans. His friendly attitude towards you is a little startling but you warm up to it quickly.

The flight was mostly your retainer setting ground rules and briefing you on what you will be doing. You would be training with him mostly, and doing everything he says. No stuffing your face, meals kept strict, and no seconds or late snacks. Nikolai calls you to the front halfway through the journey and lets you sit next to him. He could overhear your conversation with the retainer, wanted to give you a break from it while wanting to learn more about you.

You don’t have much to say, cause well you haven’t done much on your own. Well you do enjoy drawing, and reading. Sometimes writing is fun but that’s mostly it so far. He tells you a bit about the 141, recounting the small tales but while hinting at what hybrids you’ll be working with.

Soon you land on the base and exit the chopper heading towards the Task Force 141. In front is a dragon hybrid and next to him is a human, both in uniform. Names are exchanged and you’re led inside the base where you meet the others. You notice he’s missing a wing and his tail wrapping around the human’s leg. As a hybrid your instincts tell you what he’s doing. You’re not a massive threat to him being so young, but his body language makes it clear the value he puts in the medic and likely the rest of his men. He read your file, so you can’t blame him for being extra protective. You keep your head down as you’re taken inside with your handler.

You’re introduced to each of the 141 including the human, who asks to do a health assessment before anything else. Your retainer is strongly against this, insisting that you’ve already been cleared and don’t require one. There’s somewhat of a back and forth between them with you simply standing there. Your handler raises his voice and you have to dig your nails into your palm to not run off. You’re wondering if you should offer your own choice or ask someone what you should do while waiting. Price puts it forward that you get a check up so that Hunter can assess your conditions first hand.

You follow Hunter to their station in the infirmary, taking you to a private room. Hunter gets many looks while you follow them from the other soldiers with a couple even following with them to the room. You meet a harpy called Gaz and a werewolf called Soap. They stick closer to Hunter almost in a protective sense. Though each of them give you an acknowledgement. Soap has never smelled a hybrid like you before, and Gaz wasn’t sure what to make of you either. Your rabbit ears and antlers were hardly a cause for alarm though. You weren’t exactly intimidating. Hunter takes you into the private room while the two hybrids wait outside, offering to help them with paperwork and taking you to wherever you need to go next. The examination is very simple, checking to see your vitals, understanding how you worked so Hunter could help you on missions, and learning any instinctual habits you may have.

When Hunter asks you to take off your hoodie and remove your shirt, you do so. Their eyes go wide upon seeing your body. Your retainer’s “work” was evident by your rib cage and flattening stomach.

“When was the last time you ate?” Hunter asks.

When you tell them the last time you ate, they excuse themselves. You wait for about 15 minutes, when there’s a knock telling you to get dressed and come out. Gaz is still there but clearly Soap had left with Hunter. He takes you to a small room for you to bunk in for the next while.

You later find out Hunter had left the room and smacked your retainer for his methods. Even Price had to get involved to keep the two from getting more violent. Hunter is certainly a force to be reckoned with when it comes to patients. The handler believes that limiting your food intake will help you keep control. Hunter doesn’t agree with starving you, but Price can’t really argue with it.

The next while you’re training, and you do everything you can to keep up. Your limits are pushed and Price isn’t about to go easy on you. Partially cause he hopes the retainer will increase your food intake. It’s a lot, and Hunter doesn’t like seeing you running laps and drills knowing you haven’t been eating much. You push yourself hard, not giving in to judgements from humans or the other hybrids. It doesn’t matter if you’re the last or the worst or even fail the most, you keep pushing.

Meals are strict, with small but reasonable portions for you and eating by yourself in your room. For the next while this becomes the routine, with the occasional snack being slid to you by Hunter. It does make sleep difficult and your stomach growls periodically. Soap takes notice right away how bad it is, your stomach is almost like a random alarm for him, that he can’t shut off.

“You hungry?” He asks sarcastically. You shake your head, only for your stomach to object again. Soap rolls his eyes.

“Take a couple.” He says offering you some of his snacks. When you try to turn it down, he starts insisting harder. “Come on, the noise is drivin me bloody mad. Take em, a few won’t kill ya.”

You do so, and you take another couple after. Soon enough he’s slipping you pieces of his snacks when your handler isn’t around, like chips or cookies.

You have to go to school still, off base and some jerks decided to lock in a closet. Despite your protests and pleas they decide to leave you there overnight. You have a few snacks but you can feel yourself getting increasingly hungry, and you know it won’t be long until you lose it. You try your handler but they aren’t picking up. You don’t want to but you call Soap who picks up groggily.

“The hell is callin…” he groans.

“Soap it’s me…I’m really sorry…” there is a quiver in your voice as you talk.

“…kid? The bleeding hell you still doing up? Wait, where the ell are you?”

You explain you’re stuck and hungry and really need help.

“Alright alright…I’m on my way… you need food?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and asks what you want to eat, if there’s any comfort food you have while he’s getting his shoes and pants on.

“Are you mad…” you ask in a small voice he can just barely hear over the phone. He’s been in highschool as a hybrid and had people pick on him, call him a mutt yank at his tail, try to get him in trouble and whatnot.

“I’m mad at the pieces of shite that did this to you. What do you want to eat?” He says. You tell him and wait patiently after he hangs up.

Gaz is woken up, and looks over.

“Was goin on…” Gaz asks.

“Kid is stuck at school. Literally.” Soap says, lacing his shoes.

“She have food?” Gaz mutters rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“No, so I’m getting her some.”

“What she want?” Gaz yawns.

Soap tells him and he orders it for pick up before getting dressed himself.

“What is she still doing at school?” Gaz asked pulling his hoodie on. “Little help?”

Soap helps get Gaz’s wings through the slots on his hoodie as he explains. Gaz can relate. He’s been bullied as well, and hell you’re a kid with a strong will. It’s not fair for you to be pushed so hard only for school to make you feel like shit. They pick up the food and head over to the school.

“Come on.” Soap jogs to the door and tries it. “Mother…they don’t check if anyone’s still inside?”

Gaz takes one of his feathers off and picks the lock. Gaz opens it and Soap shifts and gets in, as soon as he can fit through the door.

“Kid you here?” He yells. Nothing. Gaz comes up behind him.

“I want to make a lassie joke so hard right now.” Gaz admits, while Soap picks up your scent and hurries off up and down the halls, trying to figure out where you are. He starts scratching at a maintenance door. Gaz knocks on it.

“Kid you in there?” He calls.

“Y-yes!” You call back.

“We’re gonna help you okay? Just hold tight.”

“Gaz move.” Soap says. Gaz just barely gets out of the way before Soap manages to smash it in. They find you curled up and clutching your stomach. Gaz flaps away the dust before stepping over the broken remains of the door. He gives you the bag ripping it open and you hands go in quickly. You ravenously eat away at the first thing you get, a still warm hashbrown. One bite and you stand up but Gaz keeps you sitting.

“Don’t choke, finish that first.” He orders. You do as he says a mutter through mouthfuls, “sorry.”

“So what exactly happened?” Soap asks.

“They pulled my ears and kept asking to see my tail… kept telling them I didn’t have one.” You mutter, finishing the hashbrown. “A few of them grabbed me and shoved me in here…kept calling me ‘bunny’ and ‘rabbit’. Said they would stuff me later.”

“No one’s stuffing anything except the assholes that did this and where it don’t shine.” Soap growls. In the dark it’s a little more intimidating with yellow glowing eyes. Gaz stretches a wing around you and gives you another piece of the order to munch on while he helps you out of the room. You go on about how they kept messing with you in various childish ways. The bullies had yanked your ears, played with your antlers and called you a bunny breeder. Gaz and Soap get you into the backseat and encourage you to keep eating.

“You got made fun of by the teachers pet?” Soap asked a little surprised.

“He said I was the new class pet.” You say. “Then he wouldn’t stop saying I had to eat carrots and wasn’t allowed to have any of the snacks I brought.”

“You ignore em?”

“Tried, but then he started telling me I shouldn’t be snacking and had to eat ruffage.”

“Wow…” Gaz says. “You could always threaten to gnaw on his pencils.”

“How’s the food?” Soap calls from the front.

“Good. I should stop though.”

“You almost finished?” Soap says checking on you in the rear view.

“Uh…halfway?” You relay after checking the bags contents.

“Keep eating.” Soap says.

Gaz gives Soap a look.

“One meal won’t kill her.” Soap says quietly.

“Thank you for getting me.” You say.

“Hunter would have my head.”

Sadly your bonding time doesn’t go unnoticed and Price calls you all into the office. Your handler is unhappy you didn’t try contacting him first, and you stay quiet. Price chews out Soap and Gaz for B&E and property damage, until they explain what had happened to you. He’s a bit more lenient but not by much.

You, Soap and Gaz have definitely bonded more and at this point you’ve sort of become the team’s pup. Soap and Gaz teach you to fight hand to hand, and they’re careful with you at first. You’re younger and smaller but you don’t hold back against them. They show you some maneuvers and Gaz uses his hardened feathers for knife training, going slow and giving you the chance to bat away his strikes. Off time is spent with them, getting a chance to go climbing or hanging out in the rec room. Soap teaches you how to play football, and Rudy and Alejandro join in as well. Soap and Alejandro definitely start showing off their speed and strength to the point you and Rudy find it safer to watch from the sidelines with Gaz. One wrong kick makes all your caution warranted, as you have to shove Rudy over and the ball takes off part of your antler and is pierced in the process. Hunter gave Soap a very harsh talking to afterwards, and made sure you were okay.

Your handler over time becomes less and less involved with you but maintains your eating routine. He keeps your training high giving you exercises daily, that keep you busy from dusk til dawn. It’s exhausting and Hunter does express some concern to your handler who eventually gives in and increases your food intake some more.

Soap and Gaz have basically taken over your sparring sessions, keeping you trained and ready for anything. You have found a couple weaknesses when you go one on one. If Soap shifts to werewolf, you can get him with belly rubs.

Rudy had started showing you some tracking skills, and even introduced you to his dog spirits. Both spirits are weary of you at first with the red and black growling while the other stayed close to its vessel protectively. After calming them, Alejandro shifts to a panther or jaguar based on the terrain and becomes the target to track. At first he makes it easy but since you don’t hold back on Soap and Gaz he doesn’t hold back on you. You and Rudy both have to try and find him before he finds you, which is a bit of a 50-50. Your own skills as a hybrid are shown to be useful in more wild and natural terrain. In fact you become the one to be the target and the two of them actually find some difficulty locating you.

“She couldn’t have gotten that far yet…” Rudy is scratching his head, genuinely dumbfounded. Alejandro shifts back next to him looking at his partner.

“Fast learner.” He comments, impressed by your skills.

“Si.” Rudy sighs before jerking forward, hit in the back from behind. “Agh!”

Alejandro checks Rudy’s jacket and finds a stain from a paintball. They both look up and towards where the shot had come from. There they see you behind a tree covered in dirt and mud, trying to hold back the grin on your face. The two men look at you surprised, and even Alejandro is stunned that he couldn’t detect you, while the white and blue cadejo trots over and barks at you, tugging at your clothes with his teeth. The two men look at each other baffled how you got 15 feet away from them without either noticing. Alejandro waves you over to them, while the cadejo playfully tugs at your jacket.

“Fall in corporal, back to base.” He calls over and you get up from your hiding spot. Your legs were dirty and…wet? The ground was damp but you were almost soaked.

“You take a bath Mija?” Alejandro asks crossing his arms.

“No sir.” You answer, shaking your head.

“You’re wet though.” Rudolfo comments, noticing the state of your pants as well.

“Yes sir.” You reply. Alejandro gives a half grin.

“Why are you wet corporal?” He asks.

“The river sir.” You answer. They hadn’t told you about the river nearby, not to mention it was a few clicks further than they had expected you to reach. You take note of their expression and shift slightly in place. “Should I not have…?”

“Por el contrario, you did very well Mija.” Rudolfo says.

“Very good.” Alejandro comments. “You cold?” He asks. You shake your head. There was a chill but it didn’t bother you. They take you back to base.

Missions go fairly well though you are often knocked down. It can be hard when you’re up against many other hybrid creatures. Ghost comes to your aid before any fatal blows can be made, consuming enemies in his shadows when he wasn’t slipping out of them to slit enemy throats. The lieutenant didn’t agree with bringing someone as young as you on missions, and hated that he was playing babysitter half the time. Ghost can sense something off about you though. Maybe it’s your smiling, or your friendliness, of this odd presence that seems to surround you like an aura. Either way, you show yourself to be a fast learner and strong soldier. Your main focus is to incapacitate enemies, even though you’ve been taught where vitals are and how to use a gun and a knife quickly.

“Would make life easier to kill… that’s what soldiers do.” He comments. You look out at the men he’s fed on. You’re quiet thinking for a moment before responding.

“If I killed all of them though…you wouldn’t get to eat as much.” You say with a cheeky smile. His expression doesn’t change.

“Don’t worry too much. Focus on your safety first.”

“Yes sir.” You say losing the smile. He’s not wrong. After that you ask Ghost for help with laying killing strikes. Not in the field but in training. He agrees mainly because you’ve shown promise and a willingness to improve yourself. Knife training with him is rough usually leading to you getting winded and on your back.

The hands on learning is honestly better than anything else though and your exercise routines just become a warm up. You look forward to everything and take everything seriously, asking questions and showing interest in what is presented to you. Weapons training is a bit daunting, as the guns are a bit heavy, but you find your skills work good with unconventional weapons. A slingshot proves strong with you, and even crossbows. Price helps you with improving your poor aim and there are times where you will spend almost an entire night just trying to hit the targets set in front of you.

Your handler is an afterthought except when you get invited to eat with them. He’s right there ready to tell you you can’t eat with them and your food is in your room. You excuse yourself and eat alone again. However on the nights he’s away you do take the opportunity to sit with them, and just bring your food out of your room. The amount while bigger is still small for a soldier, even for a teenager. Most of them assume it’s an insecurity for you so they don’t pressure you to eat more, or comment on it. Soap offers some of his snacks still.

Hunter is instructed when the handler goes on leave to give you meals he has premade for you. They have half a mind to toss them and get you to eat with everyone else, however much you wanted, but they leave the opaque container in your room as instructed.

You don’t eat any of it though. You recognize the smell and are both disturbed and distraught. No. Not that. Memories come flooding back, ones you wanted to stay buried. It takes everything not to break down, and your stomach is churning and begging for sustenance.

Do you tell someone? Would anyone believe you? Should you eat it? No of course not! But you’re so hungry and your mouth is watering. The scent makes your stomach do hard and painful flips, as if there was a grinding wheel whipping around in your belly. You try to look for snacks that you may have hung on to from Hunter but find nothing. The hunger starts to consume your thoughts faster than you’ve consumed anything. Your body starts to alter, you teeth grow sharper, your sense of smell grows stronger and you cling to yourself.

Hungry hungry hungry…starved…

You act fast and get your pillow case, tying it in your mouth, before getting your hoodie on and bolting. You’re fairly agile in your human form and your desire for sustenance drives you forward. Meat is everywhere but you don’t want it. You don’t want to want it. Any soldiers you pass, you keep your head down, and rush past them. You don’t even look up for your teammates calling for you, and instead bolt faster. You finally get outside and sprint for the woods with soldiers calling after you, and trying to stop you to figure out what’s going on. It isn’t long before your body shifts and contorts and you smell meat nearby.

Eat…eat…

Your sudden leave doesn’t go unnoticed. At first, your team saw you and thought you had to hurry somewhere or didn’t see them. Then Alejandro and Soap passed your door while talking.

“Hunter really told you no more football?” Alejandro asks.

“Won’t stop me from playan, but they did warn mae ‘bou-“ Soap and Alejandro both freeze in place smelling the food in your room, the door shut. What the fuck? They look at each other disturbed and in shock. Soap opens the door and his eyes widen in shock seeing what was inside the container.

“Steamin bloody Jesus.” He says while covering his nose and mouth with an arm. Flies buzzed around the human organs you were served in the container.

“The hell kind of diet is this, Mija?” Alejandro says under his breath. Soap puts the lid back on and takes it to Hunter. No way they would do this, but they likely knew who did.

“OI! Hunter!” Soap yells.

“Soap! Gods, please knock next ti-“

“The bloody hell is this!?” He demands holding up the container. Hunter is confused.

“The corporal’s meal? Why do you ha-“

Without wasting anymore time he sets it down and opens the lid enough for them to see. Hunter stands up from their desk quickly, and in shock.

“Soap the fuck is wrong wi-“ Hunter starts.

“The fuck kind of meal is this!” Alejandro barks.

“What?!” Hunter is just as confused.

“This is the corporal’s meal.” Alejandro clarifies.

Hunter is just as disturbed as they are and goes into the storage where the rest of your meals were being kept for the time of his leave. They found more organs and human remains. Hunter wasn’t sure whether to be pissed, disgusted or distraught.

“What the bloody… I’m taking this to Price immediately this is beyond fucked. Where’s the corporal right now?” Hunter demands to know. Soap recalls seeing you running down the hall.

“She’s run off.” Soap concludes. Hunter takes a moment to breath and calm themselves, somewhat relieved.

“She could be anywhere by now.” Alejandro adds recalling your tracking lessons.

Hunter heads for the door and the two hybrids follow as they go to the captain’s office. He looks up from some papers before standing, seeing the door open.

“The corporal is MIA.” Hunter states. Price is confused until they explain what was in the food. Price is angry, ready to roast the retainer upon his return but you are more important along with any bystanders. A search is put out and human soldiers are instructed to stay on base while Task Force 141 along with Rudy and Alejandro track you down. Price knew there was too much of a risk for regular humans to be close to you in this state.

The cadejos catch your scent and lead the search with Rudy keeping a watchful eye for any movement. Alejandro and Soap follow the scent and cadejos with Hunter riding Soap’s back to assist them. Gaz had taken to the sky trying to find you from above and cover more ground. The scent is how they follow you but they know you’re in the area by the sounds of screeches and unearthly clicking. Price hasn’t heard noises like that in a very long time. Ghost advises caution to everyone while he moves through the shadows and senses death all around them. He soon finds it as well.

At first a couple of bisected birds and bitten voles were traces. The deeper they went the bigger the animals. Soon it was small boars that had their meat stripped. There were a few large birds that had managed to escape but were bleeding. A few foxes were limping and cowering in their dens. When the team finally found you they kept their distance with Ghost being the closest to you, discovering why he had felt uneasy around you.

You were gorging yourself on the carcass of a large elk, and stuffing handfuls of blood and raw meat into your mouth savouring every bite. Dark crimson caked your mouth and hands as you continued eating, getting into your hair every time you decided to literally stuff your face. Your boney limbs and sharp fingers clawed pieces off and your jagged sharp teeth tore into thicker, tougher parts. Gaz lands in one of the tall trees while Alejandro circles around slowly and quietly planning to flank you if you tried to bolt, his oanthef form slinking around in the underbrush keeping distant and cautious. Soap proceeds closer, slowly. He has Hunter on his back and at the moment was a muscled riot shield for them. You continued feeding ignoring them all, when Soap noticed the screeching had stopped and heard your muffled whimpers and sobs mixed in with the sounds of your eating.

He moves closer and closer, letting Hunter walk next to him.

You stop eating to wipe your mouth fruitlessly. That’s when you notice the large wolf standing before you, staring at you with eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. In the moonlight he could see your tears, lightly cutting through the blood and grime on your face. Your eyes were pure white, and almost void of life. Hunter came up next to him, and you start to scramble back, worried you might go for them.

“Hey hey, no it’s okay. You’re okay…” they reach into their med bag and took out a chocolate bar, tearing off the wrapper for you and offering it. It was like an animal trainer trying to get their charge to trust them. You slowly crawl over, eyes blank and white, but docile.

“Let’s make it a bit smaller.” They mutter. Hunger breaks a piece and you back away again, crawling on all fours. Hunter leans in a bit, offering the smaller piece to you. You take it gingerly and bite down on the candy. When the human medic offers the rest, you dig into it, eating it like nothing had gone wrong. Like you hadn’t run off, shifted and started gorging on the elk carcass right next to you. The area was quiet while your team watched as you continued eating. The snack was so good, so much better than the carcass.

It had happened again. You lost control again. You were a monster and you killed so many innocent animals. Tears continued to fall as the regret set in. When you smell human meat and you’re hungry, it can set you off, making your only thoughts to be “eat”. Animals weren’t as effective hence the number you had taken out. Human food, like the candy, was a middle ground. It would take some time to bring you back to your human state, and taking less to do so.

When you finally spoke, all you could croak out was a small and raspy, “sorry”.

Hunter offers you some more food, proper food, and you eat it slowly, trying not to make yourself sick. First it was the chocolate bar, and then some crackers, an apple, some water, a few carrots. Your beastly features begin to dull, and you feel yourself growing tired. Hunter moves closer with every bite and holds you close while you cry into them, and continue eating the food they give you. Soap curls himself around you preventing escape and trying to comfort you and protect Hunter. Neither of them worries about the blood, they had worse before. Soon you tucker yourself out and Hunter picks you up, and gets back on Soaps back.

“Price, target found and incapacitated. Returning to base.” Ghost said over comms.

“Copy Lt.” Price responded through a long sigh of smoke.

When you woke up you had food next to you on the bed, and Soap asleep in a chair. He wakes up to see you eating the food left for you, and smiles.

“Mornin’ Corporal.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Don’t. You didna do anythin wrong.” He said. He ruffles your hair which you realize had been cut off rather awkwardly. Apparently the blood was too thick to wash, and cutting it was the safer option. You didn’t mind.

For the rest of your handlers leave, your eating becomes top priority. If you try to skip meals, you’re hauled to the mess hall, or get a protein bar in your hand. You get firm reminders that your actions that night are not your fault. Hunter is ensuring you get your meals at regular times, and that you’re staying healthy in your eating habits. They’ve also taken to checking your weight, and body, which regains some pounds. Meanwhile paperwork is being shifted around and sorted and handed and signed making a report about what happened and the illegal obtainment of human organs and their distribution. Laswell is more than pissed and ensures your handler is kept off base for longer than he had intended to be.

A couple months go by of you recovering and getting into a healthier routine. You mention to your team that your form is much different and (you later learn) the one they had seen happens when you get hungry and are unable to eat. With this comes the chance to show off your monsterous form, which leaves them with surprised looks and a bit of shock. Your human form grows and your head is replaced by a deer skull, while your limbs shed skin and are replaced with natural wood, and your rib cage and a few other pieces are beared for them to see. Like Soap your clothes do get torn up, but you prepared with a blanket nearby.

You look down at them, and step back a little while they stare. Price smiles seeing what you are meant to look like, the full spirit creature. Price approaches you first and you go lower for him to meet your eyes. A hand is place on your skull and tilt your head.

“Welcome to the 141.” He says smiling. Soap steps up and shifts to his wolf form. You get down on all fours for him and he gives a soft headbutt against your shoulder which you return.

“Stuck with us now Corporal.” He barks.

Soap helps you feel more comfortable with your form, and helps you learn to move in it as well, alongside Alejandro. You find that while you’re bipedal, running on all fours does have some speed to it. You’re even more of a natural climber, able to launch yourself off large tree trunks and latch on to the next one, making any large enough forest a parkour playground. The cadejos are weary still but Rudolfo continues working with you on tracking. Alejandro is often busy having to assist the captain with paperwork. Gaz starts helping you instead, making your hiding even more fun, since he has the best sight out of everyone. Now you’re the target even more for them to find, which they assume won’t be hard with your immense size but your terrain becomes a part of you, and you it letting you hide almost in plain sight.

Ghost assists you in ways you weren’t expecting, as he helps you feel more comfortable with death. Now your sparring and take down sessions often come with a small talk. Taking a life isn’t easy, and given your story, he wants you to know you’re defending yourself and others. It’s not uncommon for you to get a bit carried away on missions now, as you’re able to charge with Soap into a fray. Your larger size makes it easy for you to forget your surroundings. It leads to more casualties than knock outs. Price even tells you what he knows about wendigos and works on getting as much information from you about the handler as he can. Price lets you use him as a target now for shooting range, given how much better your aim has gotten.

Your team becomes your family as older siblings, uncles and sometimes even dads. They pass on everything they can to you. At this point they’ve come to see you as the pup in their pack, the one they raise into a fighter and protector for the future.

Visual reference for wendigo form

[yuesya]

Is that… Aventurine? At a concert?

Topaz blinks as she catches sight of the familiar face, surprised. A fellow Stoneheart was the last person she’d expected to run into on one of her days off, especially not at a jam-packed concert of all places… but life has a funny way of throwing coincidences at you when you least expect it. And as large as the universe is, there are also times when it’s quite astonishingly small.

Which is to say, Topaz had not been aware that Aventurine was a fan of the superstar singer Robin’s songs. The man has expensive tastes –as many IPC executives do– but Topaz had always been under the impression that it was for personal luxuries and comforts, rather than anything relating to the performative arts.

Almost as if sensing her gaze on him, Aventurine turns around. As fate would have it, Topaz’s seat is actually not quite far from his in the VIP section, and it doesn’t take long before his eyes focus unerringly on her.

Aventurine blinks, and arches an eyebrow.

Topaz smiles reflexively, and waves her hand slightly in greeting.

… Well, this was a little awkward. Heavens knows that she was only here to enjoy an intergalactic star’s concert, not to tail a fellow coworker as he would undoubtedly suspect the coincidence to be–

The person sitting beside Aventurine also shifts and turns around, causing the man to break his stare-off with Topaz when they say something to him.

Wait, was Aventurine not here on his own? … He was attending this concert with someone else?

Topaz’s first reaction is to wonder if this is a client that Aventurine is spending time with, but she swiftly discards the thought. There is no faultless smile plastered on the blond man’s face, and his body language does not indicate that he is deliberately entertaining his companion to lull them into a false sense of security. But it doesn’t seem as if they are a business partner, either –that also doesn’t seem quite right. Because when Aventurine had seen her, Topaz had caught a faint flash of… something that wasn’t quite hostility, not really, but it had still left Topaz with the vague impression that her presence was not welcome.

Hmm. This was interesting.

Blatantly ignoring the way that the other Stoneheart’s gaze sharpens, Topaz takes a moment to study the individual beside him.

At a glance, it’s clear to see that this is someone who is deliberately attempting to maintain a low profile. There is a cloth mask covering the lower half of their face, coupled with a pair of dark sunglasses that obscures their features entirely. But from their general body shape, it’s not hard to tell that this is a girl. And there is nothing hiding the long curls of silvery hair running down her back, nor the pair of wings behind her ears and the delicate halo that floats over her head like a crown.

A Halovian girl?

To Topaz’s knowledge, most Halovians nowadays all hailed from Penacony. And Penacony was not exactly on the best of terms with the IPC, so this was–

The white-haired girl reaches up with pale fingers, and removes her sunglasses.

As an IPC executive and one of the Ten Stonehearts, Topaz has encountered many different species and races throughout various worlds in the galaxy, and she can quite confidently say that she’s never seen eyes like that before on any individual, Halovian or otherwise. It wasn’t just the abyssal blue color, nor the faint glow–

The Halovian girl does not do anything more than simply look at her, and Topaz freezes beneath her gaze. It’s a gaze that contains no emotion, nor any recognition, and yet–

And yet Topaz’s instincts scream at her, every hair raising on the back of her neck, and the heavy pounding of her heart in her ears is enough to drown out the music and cheers of the ongoing concert around them. With perfect crystal-clear clarity, she knows that she is about to die–

The sunglasses come back down, and the terrifying Halovian girl turns away from Topaz. Towards Aventurine instead, who had tugged the sunglasses back over her eyes, and the man is looking at her with a strange little helpless smile.

Yet, he does not look upon the girl with any fear.

Aventurine leans forward, whispering something into the girl’s ear. The Halovian girl nods, and turns back around in her seat, her attention returning to the concert stage. Aventurine flicks his gaze towards Topaz and gives her a slight nod, his smile once more the sly and faintly mocking expression that Topaz is well-familiar with, then turns away from her as well.

Topaz sits silently for a long moment. Sucks in a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

…

(Months later, Aventurine is the one chosen to represent the IPC at the negotiation table, when it becomes apparent that Lyra of the Oak Family intends to kill Oswaldo Schneider, the head of the Marketing Development Department.

Topaz, for one, is unsurprised.)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can I request Demiurge, Sebas, and Albedo (Overlord) with a Supreme Being reader that's fallen asleep on their lap?

Falling Asleep on Their Laps | Yandere Overlord

As the Flower of Nazarick all the power you have, it has no limits as someone who doesn’t need the rules to thrive it also means you don’t have a real gauge for your energy. Considered more of a divine trainee of a Supreme Being all of Nazarick take it upon themselves to help you in whatever way they can. Especially since Ainz himself prioritizes you so does all of Nazarick and everyone in this world that is graced by your presence. So when you begin to drift to sleep they’ll gladly be your pillow after all what better purpose could they serve to you than the Flower of Nazarick:

Demiurge

“You can count on me, (Y/n).”

With a tail dangerously itching to wag 

he watches as your eyes get heavy and your speech slurs dribble into the soft breaths of a sleeping supreme being

Because of Ainz’s trust in him, he has been tasked with helping you hone your power 

Specifically holding back 

But since you’re so unfamiliar with combat and your limits you were bound to tire yourself out

What was supposed to be a break turns into a full-blown nap 

One that Demiurg will protect with his life 

He’s frankly going to behead whoever enters without it being a guardian or Ainz 

Even the Pleiades aren’t safe

Ainz forbid Yuri or Solution come to retrieve you gathering that you are sleepy by now 

They’ll either have to dodge or endure the force of Demiurge’s tail that meticulously strikes for their mere interruption

This is his time with you

Training or not

He resists the urge to caress your face but he’s not Albedo…

He can resist

“I devoted myself to your rest (Y/n)-sama. I couldn’t bear to disrupt your rejuvenation.”

Sebas Tian

“My Flower…please rest.”

Too many times does he see the unhardened heart you have in contrast to Ainz so it seems

So Innocent 

So untainted he sees why the world they’re in adores the very ground you hover over 

You’re perfect

And he honestly considers himself almost unworthy to have you rest on him

His legs may get tired or even be weighed down by the weight of your head but he would have never given this up

“I’m unworthy but I am your tool oh Flower of Nazarick. Rest easy.”

Albedo

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~ My supreme being is sleeping!~'

She refuses to disturb your slumber with words she might want to say 

But that doesn’t stop her other bodily functions

Her wings will flap excitedly 

Her face will be overtaken by her smile

And her body’s temperature will rise exponentially 

She’ll naturally try to use as much of her body as possibly 

Slowly sliding her now ungloved hands on your face

Your nose

Your lips 

This is just perfect!!!!

Her Ainz-sama doesn’t sleep so she never gets this opportunity

But with you, she can almost feel everything

If you’re not a light sleeper it's best to assume she’s exploring you and committing your measurements to memory

If she’s feeling particularly confident she might just take you to her bedroom

Or even better in Ainz’s unused room 

sniffing  your head as she imagines Ainz being with you both

“My Flower~! My (Y/n)~! Ah~! Your slumber is an immaculate gift for me to overindulge!”

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man 15

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Everyone prepares for take off. The final chapter.

8.5k words

(Master List 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14)

“So, do you want the good news or the bad news first?” 

Paige’s voice was professional over the phone, but that didn’t stop Eddie’s stomach from dropping at the question. It had been about a month since the audition, and even though Paige had said that she would get back to Eddie with an offer, the stretch of time had made everyone nervous. Corroded Coffin had been left hanging, wondering if this had been too good to be true. 

“Bad news first.” Eddie said, rubbing his forehead. 

“WR Records interfered, and they need more from you than the audition.” Paige sighed. “They remember you flaking out a few years ago and they want proof that you aren’t just going to turn tail and run.”

“I’m not!” Eddie protested. “I mean- we’re not! And I didn’t in the first place I just...”

“They don’t care why you didn’t come last time.” Paige continued. “You didn’t show up after I had stuck my neck out for you and that’s why we’re in this position to begin with.”

Eddie didn’t need the reminder. “So, what do they need? Do they want us to go to LA? It was hard enough getting everyone to go to Live Mike-”

“No, they don’t want you all in L.A. Not yet anyway.” Eddie could hear the exasperation in her voice, and he didn’t know if it was at him or the situation. 

“So what-?”

“They want to see your stage presence. More than in just the audition tape we used. They want you to put on a show. A real one.”

“I take it that means that the Hideout doesn’t count?” Eddie asked. 

“They want to see fans, Eddie.” she explained. “They want to see Corroded Coffin with the real target demographic. Not just a handful of drunks wincing at your latest cover of Paranoia.”

He knew she was right, even if it did suck. When it came to fans, you were the only real one that they had at the moment that would fit the description of what WR was asking for. How the hell were they supposed to suddenly find people to support them, let alone like them? 

“Shit.” 

“It’s not going to be easy, but it’s not impossible.” Paige said. “You just need to put on a good enough show that they’ll sign off on you with Left Turn.”

“Why does this feel like a punishment?”

“Because it is.”

“Shit.” 

“It’s not a lost cause.” She continued. “They didn’t exactly give us a time limit on this, especially since we’re still setting up shop in Indiana. Everything is ahead of schedule and we’ll have everything set up by late May or early June.”

“So we just have to prove ourselves by Summer and we’re in?” 

“Plenty of time for you to find some fans.” Page laughed. 

“Yeah, finding fans in a town that thinks I’m a satanic cult leader. My fate rests in the hands of people who’d rather run me out with pitchforks than touch a die with more than six sides.” Eddie began lightly smacking his forehead against the refrigerator. “Sounds easy.”

“You’ll figure it out. Besides, there is good news to incentivise you.” 

“Yeah?”

“When we get the green light from WR, Left Turn is willing to offer you a two record deal.”

Eddie froze with his forehead pressed against the cool exterior of the fridge for the moment. “Wait,” his head snapped up and he pulled the receiver away from his ear to stare at it, wanting to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Are you joking?”

“I don’t joke about business.” Her tone was serious. “We discussed it, and we really think Corroded Coffin is going to be the breakout band that gives Left Turn what it needs to no longer be the place where second rate bands play third rate songs for passive income for WR. We want you, Eddie. You all have something special.” 

Special. The only time he had been called that was when the jocks called him Special Ed after he showed up for his fifth year of high school. Shit, who was he kidding, they called him that even before then. 

“Two records?” Eddie repeated. Did they even have enough songs for that? Corroded Coffin had maybe five original songs, and at least two of them were incomplete.

“It'll be easier to go over the details with everyone in person. But the long and short of it is that if you can pull off a halfway decent show for the label, you’re in. And, okay, I know I said that they didn’t give us a time limit but we’d really prefer to start giving you all studio time next summer.” 

“Wow that’s...” An eternity away? Too soon to even conceive? The most exciting and terrifying thing to happen to Eddie Munson, outside of stealing weed from a reefer truck and being in a shootout when he was eighteen? 

“The best deal you can hope to get.” Paige finished his sentence for him. “Trust me, we are bending and breaking a lot of rules for you, Eddie. Most bands would kill for this kind of deal that we’re offering you.”

He believed it, because it seemed like every time Paige came to him with any kind of news about his band he felt like he stepped into an alternate universe.

“So do a show, get fans, and get signed.” It was a three step plan that would work in theory, and Eddie had created campaigns and encounters on flimsier ideas. Then again, right now he wondered if fighting a litch would be easier than getting people in this town to like him. 

“We’ll talk more about this later. I’m heading back to California tomorrow but I’ll be back in a few weeks for the holidays and we can talk business then. Give the boys the good news and start working on a plan for your show.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good night, Eddie.” 

“‘Night, Paige.”

Winter passed in a blur of slush and snow and dreary days, while you found your life suddenly filled with more warmth and light than you had ever expected. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, all came and went with Eddie. You got to know his uncle Wayne, and Eddie spent his weekends more often than not at your apartment, watching movies, listening to his tales from school, and discussing his band. 

In January, you found yourself sneaking into Hawkins high on occasion to join Hellfire. You didn’t want to risk coming every single week, but when Eddie needed a sub, or when he said that he would be running a one shot, you were there. He had spent a night at your place helping you create a character, and you had admittedly gone overboard and ended up coming to the sessions with a new character each time because you had so much fun making them. You weren’t always clear on the rules, but you had enthusiasm and that counted for more in Eddie’s book, even if he had killed two of your characters.

In February he surprised you for Valentine’s day by playing you a song that he swore up and down he only tolerated because you liked it. In a card he bought was a paper heart that he had folded himself and had doodled hearts and skulls on. 

“It’s not as good as what you make, but you always show interest in my stuff, so...” Eddie had just shrugged. 

That was the first time you said ‘I love you.’ to Eddie Munson. 

His brown eyes had gone wide, and he had stared at you in surprise at those words. He didn’t say it back, not then. You didn’t need him to. You knew how you felt about him, and by the look in his eyes, you had an idea that he wouldn’t be far behind. 

Eddie had kissed you in response, and you don’t think that the two of you stopped kissing until you had to force yourself to pull away to give him his gift; a mix tape of both of your favorite songs and a tape recorder so that he could keep better record of all of the music he was trying to make. 

It wasn’t the world, it wasn’t a stage, or a record deal, but it was from you. 

You found that dating Eddie was easier in March and April. Spring had come and there was a lot more that you could do together outside of your apartment. The two of you fell into Lover’s Lake a handful of times, courtesy of Rick lending Eddie his boat and the two of you having horrible coordination. One weekend, the two of you drove past the old theater, and found it to now be fully closed and under some sort of construction as a radio tower was put on top of the building. 

Fine, good riddance. 

You remained Corroded Coffin’s number one fan, and had dragged Steve and Robin to the Hideout to watch them whenever you could. You tried to get other people to go see them play, and put up fliers for the band on the days where Keith wasn’t around. On the odd occasion you had seen a new face at the Hideout, but no one had stuck around for more than one set. 

Eddie was getting discouraged by the time May came around, and it was breaking your heart. He was putting everything into this band, and even though the past few months they had worked so hard on new music, they weren’t able to find that spark that would get people talking about them. As much as he believed in this band, in their music, it wouldn’t matter if this town wouldn’t give him a fucking chance. 

You... were not doing much better. Actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself, outside of spending time with Eddie and his friends and the occasional movie night with Robin and Steve, you were feeling more lost than ever. 

What was it about finding yourself, that made you feel even more out of place? With Eddie you could breathe, so why did it feel like in every other aspect of your life you were treading water?

Because all of those stupid rom coms that you had watched also lied to you. Turns out that by getting a man, it didn’t magically fix anything wrong in your life. Not that it had ever been his job to fix you, nor was that your intention but still. 

With Rocky Horror long gone, you had tried to focus your efforts on Corroded Coffin instead. It wasn’t the same. The harder you saw your boyfriend working towards his passions, the more you realized that you had no idea what the fuck you were doing with your life.

Being the assistant manager, who did more work than the actual manager sucked. You were pulling in so many hours with little to no reward. You nearly hit a breaking point when Keith tried to change your schedule so that you had to work on Tuesdays, and even though your day had remained intact, you still felt like you had lost somehow. 

Time spent with Eddie was the only time you didn’t feel stuck at work. Even when you were hanging out with Steve and Robin, all they seemed to be able to talk about was work or Steve’s dating life, or whatever movie was on. 

Everything came to a head one afternoon in May. It was Saturday, the busiest day of the week and you were staring at the door to your apartment with dread. Outside was the perfect day, finally warm enough to wear whatever you want without it being too hot or too cold. 

And yet, you felt clammy all over, you felt frozen in place staring at the door. You could already hear customers complaining about movies, Keith blowing off any responsibility, and-

“I’m sick.” you said bluntly into the receiver.”I’m not coming in.” 

You didn’t give Keith a chance to respond before hanging up and unplugging the phone. 

The drive to Gareth’s neighborhood was a blur and you pulled up behind Eddie’s van. You sat there for a moment before forcing yourself out of the car and walked over to the garage. 

The few times you were able to swing by during practice, it was usually a cacophony of music that echoed down the street, but not this time. You heard Eddie’s voice before you saw him with the band, they were all standing around and Eddie had his arms crossed. 

Zack was the first to notice you and gave you a wave, and you waved back. Eddie turned around and you saw the way his face relaxed as you approached. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and kissed your forehead. 

“Thought you had work today.” Eddie said. 

“I...” you shook your head. “I don’t even want to talk about work right now. What’s going on over here?”

“Oh, we’re fucked.” Gareth shrugged, spinning his sticks. 

“We aren’t fucked.” Eddie snapped. 

“I don’t know man, we seem kind of fucked.” Jeff sighed. 

“Fucked like a cheap whore.” Zack added. 

“Stop!” Eddie snapped, his eyes narrowing at his band. He removed his arm from around you and crossed his arms. “We aren’t fucked until I say we’re fucked.” 

“...Fucked.” you said, and everyone looked at you. “....I felt left out.” 

Eddie sighed from deep in his soul. “We have no venue, and no steady following except for you.” 

Ah, this again. You had been hearing about this problem for the better part of four months now. You honestly didn’t know what WR Records expected from a bunch of high schoolers with no money and no idea how to put on a show. You’d been here for this conversation so many times that you could practically recite everyone’s responses. 

“Let’s just... everyone take five. I need a smoke.” Eddie said. 

“Take it to the street, mom is gonna kill me if she finds another one of your butts on the lawn.” Gareth said. 

“Right, right.” Eddie grabbed your hand and led you to the side of his van as he pulled out his cigarettes. 

“Still no idea about a show?” you asked, leaning against his van. 

“Not a clue.” Eddie took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled. “But it’s nothing you haven’t heard a thousand times over at this point.” 

“I’m surprised that you haven’t used the frustration to write any new songs.” 

“It’s hard to fight demons when they won’t even give you a battlefield.” He gave a subtle laugh. “At this point I’d rather be fighting a real demon.” Despite his smile, you saw the stress in his eyes, and that worried you. 

“How would you even do that?” you asked. “Baseball bat with nails? Molotov cocktail? The power of friendship?” 

“Obviously through the power of metal. I’d play a guitar solo so sick that a demon’s head would explode.” 

“Effective.” You nodded. 

“So... why aren’t you at work?” Eddie asked, flicking his cigarette. You watched as the ashes fell to the ground and disappeared on the tar of the street. “It’s not like you to play hooky. Am I really that bad of an influence on you?”

“It’s not important-”

“Please.” Eddie turned to you and looked into your eyes. Sometimes you hated how intense his eyes could be, it was like he could see straight through you. “I’m so sick of hearing about my own shit. What’s going on, Sweetheart?”

Your gaze tilted up to the sky, it was a perfect shade of blue that you’d only see in photo books or inspirational posters in a library. “I... am so sick of feeling stuck.” you started, and from there a dam burst. “I’m sick of being at work, I’m sick of Family Video. I’m so tired of just waking up and going to work and coming home, just to turn around and go back to work. Keith is making my job so fucking difficult, I don’t even get to be on shift with Steve and Robin for more than maybe two or three hours a week, and if I have to hear one more person complain about movie ratings I might actually throw up.” Eddie reached out and rubbed your back. “I just... everyone else has something they can do. Steve does sports, you’re about to record an album, Robin knows like, 5 languages, and I’m...”

You didn’t want to finish that sentence. You didn’t know how to finish that sentence. 

“I want to quit.” you admitted. “I wish I could just quit and throw caution to the wind and give some sort of big dramatic speech about sticking it to the man and running off into the sunset. But I can’t.” 

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie said, finishing off his cigarette and crushing it under his worn sneaker. There was a small hole in the side of the shoe, threatening to expose his sock which probably also had a hole in it. “You’re smart, you should be able to get any job in town.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, and I know you’re right and that sucks.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I want to leave, but I feel stuck, and I feel stuck because I won’t leave. It’s a vicious cycle.” 

“Says the girl who kept showing up to my shows after I blew her off at the arcade.” Eddie nudged you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders again. “You had no problem going after what you wanted back then.”

“I knew what I wanted back then.” you looked up at him. “You were an easy choice, Eddie. Right now, I just know what I don’t want.”

There was a look in his eyes that was hard to read. Eddie was always a bit of an enigma, even after almost six months of dating. He was so expressive, and it was usually so easy to tell how he was feeling at a glance but there were moments like this, where he’d look at you with that distant expression and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was really thinking. 

“And what don’t you want...?” Eddie asked. 

“I don’t want to feel stuck, and I don’t want to hear people complain about movies ever again.” you said firmly. 

HIs expression continued to be unreadable and he looked down at the smashed cigarette butt by his feet. “You know... if this doesn’t- I mean if we can’t get our shit together to do this deal then we might be stuck.” 

“Eddie-”

“I’m just saying that I get it if you signed up to be with some big time musician. If this falls through, I don’t want you to be stuck with more than just your job.”

“Eddie.” You said again, sharply. “I liked you that first night at the arcade when you blew me off, I liked you the night I first saw you play, and I like you now because you’re you, Eddie. Of all the things I’m stuck with, you are the thing I choose to be stuck with. Everything else in my life might range from mediocre to shitty, but you are the one thing I’m sure about right now.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked. 

You grinned wickedly at him. “I’m not stuck with you, you’re stuck with me.” Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. “Sorry, no refunds. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You are a brave woman.” He said. 

“Not brave enough, apparently.” You leaned against his chest and sighed. “Bleh.”

“Are you two done making out yet?” Jeff’s voice carried over, and you remembered that you had technically crashed their rehearsal. “We want to at least play something before Gareth’s mom runs us off.” 

“Eddie’s putting his pants back on!” you called back, resulting in a mix of laughter and groans. “Looks like the show must go on.” 

The two of you made your way back to the driveway, and Eddie went for his guitar. You took a seat on the driveway, feeling the warm, rough concrete against your palms. 

You watched them take off and fly, the same way you had seen over and over again. Despite their frustration with the lack of venue, they lost themselves in the music, using it as a way to battle the demons in their own heads. 

You wished you could feel that way too. To be able to feel that power inside of yourself and just let go and lose yourself in the moment. Your eyes closed and you leaned back, tilting your head towards the sky. In your mind, you visualized your own world with their music, one where fighting demons was easy, and that any problem could be solved with some sort of sick solo. 

Your mind drifted, as you imagined demons taking over Family Video, and you and Eddie fighting them off while the store was being destroyed. That was a nice thought. There wouldn’t be a lot of room in the store though, it’d be better to take the high ground, maybe fight on top of the strip mall? Once the plaza was thoroughly destroyed in your mind, you moved the battle elsewhere; the old movie theater. 

No, you still cared for the old theater. But you did still have it out for one Chris Morrison. You could imagine him with his horrid toe colored hair as some sort of ugly demon and kicking him in the nuts again, only this time in your mind it came with a satisfying pop sound. He’d never be able to harass any women ever again. 

You let Corroded Coffin’s music be the catharsis needed after a long and stressful winter. As they played you imagined beating the shit out of every grievance you’ve ever had, and some that weren’t even yours. Eddie’s voice carried such weight as he sang about a demon who had demanded that he drop his weapons and tried to banish him-  

The idea struck you like lightning, and charged every single nerve ending in your body. You felt the hair on your neck stand up and your body prickle with goosebumps as your eyes snapped open. 

Oh, shit. This was going to be a bad idea. A brilliant idea, but probably a bad one. One that might get you all in trouble.

But it was so stupid, it might actually work. 

Eddie’s eyes met yours and he must have seen something in the way you were staring so intensely at him. He motioned for the band to stop after the song they were playing. 

“You’re glaring a hole in my head, sweetheart.” He said. “Was it that bad?”

You shook your head. “I have an idea for your show. It’s stupid, and could get all of us in trouble and might be illegal. I can’t say for sure.” 

Eddie stared at you, looking slightly worried. “Care to share with the class what you’re thinking?” 

“Can’t be worse than some of the schemes we’ve come up with.” Jeff said. 

Eddie helped you stand up, and you told them exactly what you were thinking, and how it would be stupid and reckless but that you had an idea about getting an audience, and a large one at that. 

They were all quiet as they listened and thought about what you were saying. “That’s... jesus, you’d really help us do that?”

“Do you think you can pull it off?” you asked. “Don’t worry about me. What do you all think?” 

The boys looked at each other, and you could feel the air crackling with excitement. 

“You’re right, it’s a stupid plan.” Jeff said. “But...”

“Mom would actually murder me.” Gareth said, but despite his words, there was a wicked grin on his face. 

“We’re so fucked.” Zack muttered under his breath. 

You looked at Eddie. Eddie looked at you. “Well?” 

Eddie’s frown slowly moved up into a grin. “That’s pretty risky. You sure you want to do this?”

“It’s easy to go for something when you know what you want.” You grinned back. 

The rest of the day was spent hammering out all of the details of this plan. For the first time since your audition for Rocky Horror so many months ago you felt excited, like you were really a part of something. You felt... real. 

Eddie’s excitement over this plan didn’t wane for the rest of the day. He followed you back to your apartment after rehearsal, and decided that actions spoke louder than words to show his gratitude towards you. 

The sun was just starting to set and Eddie was sleeping on your chest now. Your fingers were running through his hair as he clung to your naked form, while you stared at the ceiling. In a bit you’d probably wake him up for dinner, but for now your mind raced and went over the plan over and over again. The rational part of you was screaming that this would be a bad idea, but when you glanced down at Eddie, and remembered how he looked when he was with his band, all doubts went away. 

If you could do one thing right, it would be this. 

You arrived at the Munson trailer far earlier than you’d like to help Eddie get ready for graduation. Eddie had spent the morning with you sitting on his bed and him taking off and putting on every single shirt he owned. Normally you wouldn’t mind seeing him constantly removing his shirt, but this wasn’t the time. Eventually you had to step in and hand him his Hellfire Club shirt. 

“This is your legacy, Eddie.” you said. “This is what you’re wearing today.”

Eddie’s curls were being especially unruly after he’d showered last night and slept in wet hair. You pulled his hair back into a low ponytail to try and get his graduation cap to stay on, but he hated how it looked. He shook his hair free and you opted to use some bobby pins you had laying in the bottom of your bag instead to keep it on. 

Eddie needed to be at the school early, and you rode along with him with the promise you’d save Wayne’s seat. Your boyfriend was practically bouncing in his seat as he drove to the school and parked. The two of you went over the plan one more time, and you both adjusted the walkie-talkies that the two of you had borrowed from the freshmen. 

You walked with Eddie to the auditorium where graduates were being told to meet up. 

“You got this, Eddie.” you said, squeezing his hands. “No matter what happens today, I’m proud of you, okay?”

He leaned in and gave you a kiss, the tassel from his cap hitting your face as your lips met. “I don’t think I could have pulled this off without you.”

“I know you could have.” you said. 

“Maybe, but it’s a hell of a lot better with you helping out.” Eddie hugged you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you on the other side, mk? In two hours, you can officially say that you are no longer dating a high schooler.”

“Oh good, because I was getting worried that at some point I was going to be put on a list.” you snorted. “Knock ‘em dead, Eddie.” 

“Trust me, that’s the plan.” He said before disappearing into the auditorium. 

With that, you made your way to the football field where the actual ceremony was being held while the graduates did one last practice run in the school. You made your way to the bleachers and made your way to the very top, near the announcers booth and set your bag down next to you. 

People filed in steady for the next while. In the front row of the bleachers, you saw Steve and waved to him. The freshmen were all gathered in a group a few rows over, and the rest of Corroded Coffin wasn’t too far from them. You kept scanning the crowd diligently before spotting a girl with short dark hair chatting with a few members of the baseball team. Perfect. 

Wayne showed up about a half hour later, as the stands were starting to fill up with people. He stopped to speak to a woman you had seen around the trailer park the few times you had visited, as well as the tall woman next to her. You moved your bag as he took a seat next to you, and he looked over the field. 

“You know, I never did make it to any football games in my day.” he said. “Too noisy.”

“I went to a few, but mostly stayed because of my friends and the snacks.” you replied. In the months that you had been dating Eddie, you had gotten to know his uncle fairly well. He was a quiet man, a bit stoic, but surprisingly easy to get along with. You had a soft spot for his dry sense of humor as well. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever come to one of these.” Wayne continued. “I always had hope though.”

You had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about football anymore. 

“He worked hard.” you said. “He really wanted it this year.” 

“Well, he finally had some motivation to finish this year.” Wayne pulled a cigarette from his pocket. 

“Yeah, the promise of a record deal will do that.” Behind you, people were going into the speaker booth and started playing some filler music before the ceremony started. You took a second to look up, confirming that things were in place. 

“I ain’t talking about that.” He shook his head and looked over at you. “My boy isn’t exactly the best at expressing himself, but it was more than just his band that gave him that final push.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you shook your head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did more’n you think.” he continued. “He used to only talk about his band and his games. He never did talk much about the future, always avoided it. Eddie talks about it now, and he can’t say more than two sentences without including you in it.”

Eddie thought about a future with you? He talked about you in the future tense with his uncle? The idea made you feel flustered more than you cared to admit. 

“I’m glad he’s with you.” Wayne concluded. “You’re a good influence on him.”

The music to cue the ceremony started, which was a blessing as you had no idea how to respond to that. Did Eddie really see a future with you...?

Everyone in the bleachers started cheering as the graduates in a sea of Tiger’s green made their way to the field and took their seats in the folding chairs. The next thirty minutes were filled with boring speeches by the faculty as they all stroked their own egos about how amazing the school was and how good of a job they did at teaching the students. 

As you watched, you saw someone in the seats move from one row to the row in front. A few minutes later, they did it again, moving down the row this time. 

“What the hell is that boy doing?” Wayne said, realizing before you that it was, in fact, Eddie, who was seat hopping from the back row. 

It was the strangest game of Frogger that you had ever witnessed as your boyfriend moved from seat to seat for the next ten minutes before finally settling in the third row and not moving from then on. 

“What do you think that was about?” you asked, but Wayne just shrugged. 

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time for the graduates to walk the stage. You politely cheered for most of them, but you were here for one person only. 

Okay, fine, two people. You hadn’t forgotten that Robin was also graduating. But you knew it your heart that right now you were here for- 

“Eddie Munson.” Anyone with ears could hear the waiver of disdain in Higgin’s voice as he called out the name. You had never heard his name said with such contempt.

The cheers for Eddie were noticeably quieter than any graduate from the general crowd. You decided that it wasn’t a bad thing as you and the rest of Hellfire cheered and screamed loudly for him. You were shameless, hollering and clapping as Eddie strode across the stage as if he owned the place and stopped in front of the principal. 

True to his word, Eddie snatched the rolled up piece of paper out of the older man’s hand and everyone in the bleachers gasped and laughed as Eddie flipped him off. He then turned to the audience and, in true Eddie fashion, threw up his fingers like devil horns and hissed before cackling like a mad man and running off the stage. 

You stood up and asked Wayne to watch your things as you quickly made your way down the bleachers, meeting him behind them. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. 

“Congratulations, Eddie.” you said as he hugged you tightly, 

“If you hadn’t helped me study, I might not have made it.” he admitted. 

“You could have.” you said. “Also, what the fuck were you doing down there?”

“Jocks cut me off in line, and I had to find a way to get to my assigned seat.” Eddie took off his cap and gown and you took the items and folded them up carefully. “Now, are you ready for the most metal concert that Hawkin’s High school has ever seen?” 

“Everything is all set up and ready to go.” you said. “Wait for the signal. I’ve already gotten the all clear that it would just take a flip of the switch and everything will swap over” 

Eddie’s smile lit up his face, excitement radiating off of him now. “Let’s do this.” he handed you his diploma and you expected him to run off to get in position for the plan, but instead he stayed still for a moment just staring at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Don’t tell me you’re getting stage fright now.”

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you into a deep kiss. You barely understood what he was doing, but you kissed him back on reflex. You reached up and grabbed his shirt, holding onto him. You had never thought you were the type to make out with someone under the bleachers, but it seemed there was a first time for everything.

“I love you.” he said quickly. “I’ll see you after the show.”

That was when he turned tail and ran off, leaving you dazed and stunned at his drive-by confession. 

I love you. 

Those three words echoed in your head as you were left speechless and frozen in place. 

Oh.. that prick. He thinks that he can just drop that on you and then run away?!

He can and that’s the worst part. You would have to kick his ass and kiss him senseless later. For now, there was still a job to do. 

Eddie’s kiss haunted your lips as you made your way back up the bleachers and set his items down next to Wayne. 

“What is this?” he asked, frowning at you. 

“So, I don’t have any time to explain.” you said. “And you are about to take back everything you said about me being a good influence.” 

Wayne’s frown only deepened, but Higgins was now shaking hands with the last student on stage. You turned and made your way to the announcement booth where Dustin was waiting for you by the door.

“Ready to do something stupid and reckless that’ll get us into every sort of trouble ever?” you asked. 

“Is that a hypothetical question?” he smiled at you and the two of you made your way into the booth. 

Being friends with Steve meant that you were friends with Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. By knowing the kids, you were vaguely aware of their siblings. 

You had never officially met Johnathan Byers or Nancy Wheeler. If anything, Nancy was more of a mythical being, the ex of your best friend. You knew that she and Steve had famously dated, broke up, dated again, broke up for good, and now she was dating the man next to her holding a camera. The whole thing seemed messy, but this wasn’t the time for that. 

“You might want to get down to the field if you want to get any good pictures of this.” Dustin said to Johnathan. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked. This had not been part of the plan that you recalled. You had asked Dustin for help as he had been involved with the AV club, which meant that he knew how to work the booth but Nancy and Johnathan hadn’t been anywhere close to this plot. 

“Dustin told us what was going on.” Nancy said, holding a pen and paper. “And we were promised an exclusive if we help.”

“You-” you shook your head. “You want to do a story on this?” 

“A graduation being taken over by a small town underdog band that could get signed?” Nancy asked. “Eddie is about to do something so stupid that it could get him run out of town. I’m going to make sure that this gets spun the right way.”

“You said you needed a show and an audience.” Dustin shrugged, making his way over to the booth. “Corroded Coffin needs press. I called in a favor. Now get over here, we’re running out of time.”

Shit, the kid was right. Higgins was in the middle of his closing speech and you didn’t have much time left. You could already see some parents gathering their things to beat traffic. 

Now or never. 

Dustin flicked a switch and suddenly Higgin’s microphone cut off. He kept talking for a moment before realizing that his voice was no longer echoing across the field. He tapped the microphone a few times before looking up towards the announcement booth. 

You pulled out the walkie talkie. “Paper Crane to Corroded Coffin, are you ready? Over.” 

There was a beat before static crackled through the device. “Corroded Coffin to Paper Crane. We’re ready.”

“On my signal.” you said, and set the walkie talkie down. 

Dustin flipped a switch and music started blasting again, this time instead of the cheesy family safe hits that had been playing before, the screeching guitar of Metallica echoed across the grounds. You had no doubt that this was going to be heard for miles. 

With this distraction, Corroded Coffin stormed the stage with their instruments, setting up in record time just like they had practiced. Higgins was too stunned to speak for a moment, before seeming to sputter and yell at the boys. 

That’s what you were assuming anyway, as you could only see him and in no way hear him. 

Eddie didn’t seem bothered at all as he swung his guitar around so hard that you were sure it would have caused some serious damage had it actually hit the man. 

Dustin hit your arm to get your attention. “Introduce them.” he said, pushing the booth microphone towards you. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked. 

“Introduce them! This is a concert, you have to tell everyone who they are!” He said again. “You said you’d give the signal so give it!”

“What are you talking about, that’s their job! I’m just here to push the buttons and-” 

“Just do it!” Dustin pushed the button to turn on the mic and shoved it in your face.

For a moment, you were suddenly back on stage at the middle school talent show, with the hot lights beating down on you. You were back in the theater with Chris Morrison before you even had a chance to audition. You were in the back row (fuck the back row) dancing and yelling at a screen with dozens of people as you watched a movie you had seen a dozen times before. 

Something inside of you snapped and you grabbed the mic. 

“And here they are to close out todays’ ceremony, let’s all put our hands together for Hawkins High School’s favorite Hellions- Corroded Coffin!” 

The reception to your introduction ranged from luke-warm to confused. You saw a few people clapping, but most people had no idea what was going on. 

If the reception put off the band, they didn’t let it show for a moment. They took off like a rocket, flying high with a bust of energy as they launched into their first song. Higgins stood there, gobsmacked as they played, his face a bright shade of red that you could see even from here. He attempted to yell, but it was no good. 

Then, the oddest thing started to happen. 

It started with the graduates, as they all stood up and started to cheer. You tore your eyes away from your boyfriend long enough to see people clapping. You weren’t sure if they thought that Corroded Coffin was actually good, or if they all just thought it was part of the ceremony but it was happening. 

Higgins turned to the crowd, still fuming with anger, but froze as people started to warm up to the band on the make-shift stage. Slowly, the excitement moved backwards from the Graduates on the field to the bleachers. 

Sure, there were some parents who were quickly grabbing their kids and ushering them out of the area as quickly as possible, lest the Devil take their soul for daring to be in the same vicinity of someone playing an electric guitar. But be it by genuine curiosity, novelty, or seeing Corroded Coffin as you saw them, people were staying. 

With the court of public opinion swaying in their favor, Higgins had no choice but to storm off the stage in a huff. That’s what you liked to believe at least. 

Corroded Coffin flew through two songs without stopping, so deeply in the zone they seemed to forget where they were and who they were playing for. 

As the guitar shrieks came to a close, Eddie signaled for his band to stop. 

He looked out at the crowd of people, who were (for the most part) cheering for him. His eyes went wide, and you wondered if anyone at school ever gave him any sort of positive attention like this outside of his friends. 

Stunned for just a moment, he grabbed the mic and leaned forward. “Thanks everyone, we have one more song before we close out this whole thing.” he said. “For the past, oh, six years, I’ve been fighting my way out of the bullshit that is Hawkin’s High school. It took me longer than expected but now I’m proud to announce that your resident Freak is now going to be set loose on the town during regular school hours.” Eddie grinned wickedly, and you saw a few parents and students shift uncomfortably. “Get ready Hawkin’s because this year Corroded Coffin has officially been signed!”

Cheers and confusion rang through the stadium. You couldn’t stop smiling and you felt your eyes start to water. You were just so damn proud of Eddie in that moment. 

Eddie’s gaze moved to the announcer booth, and you could feel that he was looking at you. He extended a finger towards you and called out your name. 

“This one’s for you.” 

You felt your heart jump in your chest and your face heat up a million degrees. Eddie’s guitar started on a riff that you had heard so many damn times it was nearly seared into your brain. 

But, you hadn’t heard them play this song before. The idea had always been three songs, but this song was not part of the line up. When had they learned this one? When had they practiced this one? 

You held your hand over your mouth as Eddie started to sing. 

“It’s astounding. Time is fleeting... Madness takes its toll...”

There was still a part of you that stung thinking about those days at the theater, but seeing Corroded Coffin on stage, playing something that he knew had meant so much to you... 

Rocky Horror. Eddie was singing Time Warp from Rocky Horror.

That absolute jerk. How dare he tell you that he loves you and then runs off before you could respond, and then plays this?! 

This just confirmed what you had known for months now. You were in love with Eddie Munson.

When Officer Hopper came up to the booth, looking at you, Dustin, and Nancy, he seemed more annoyed than angry. You quickly surrendered the controls to him, letting him pull the plug on Corroded Coffin. You loved Eddie, but you also wanted to minimize whatever trouble everyone was about to get in. 

You were escorted off the campus by Hopper who said that Higgins wouldn’t press charges as long as you and Eddie swore to never step foot on the school grounds again. Easy enough, with Eddie’s diploma safe in hand now. 

Wayne had laid into Eddie for being an idiot, but it was clear his heart wasn’t really in it. How could it be with Eddie smiling like a maniac the whole time, still high off the thrill of his takeover of the school that had shunned him for so long?  

There were pictures taken. In true Eddie fashion he held his diploma proudly as he flipped off the camera. A copy of that photo would sit on your bedside table for many years after that. 

Paige dropped by the Munson trailer that night, cackling maniacally at how insane Eddie had been for using his own graduation for the concert. Eddie, of course, had given you all the credit for the idea. 

Corroded Coffin did not get the front page, despite Nancy Wheeler’s best efforts. They did get the starring headline for the entertainment section though. Your name was even mentioned in the article, as Nancy couldn’t leave out Eddie’s dedicated song to you. 

That article was also framed and hung up in your small living room, and after reading it at least once a day, it wasn’t long until you had it memorized. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the day that Eddie officially moved in that summer. At one point he came over for a movie night and just... never left. It became so easy to just have him stay the night, wake up next to you, fight over stupid things like how late he stayed up to play guitar or what to make for dinner. 

And, of course, as Corroded Coffin’s appointed emotional support fan, you were there the day that they stepped into the recording studio, this time as an officially signed band. 

When Paige had said that they had been setting up a new studio near Hawkins, the last place you expected for that to be was the old theater. You had froze outside of the building, the marquis had been torn down, and the radio tower now loomed over you instead. You had avoided being anywhere near this area since that day in November, and now here you were with your boyfriend as he got to live out his dream in the theater where you had one day hoped to live out yours. 

Jealousy wasn’t the word you were sure you were feeling. There was something there, maybe more akin to disappointment or irony at the situation. Whatever it was, you shoved it down. The past was the past, and were the odds that Chris would be there...?

Pretty high, actually. 

Chris was standing next to his dad, glaring a hole in the newly installed carpet of what had once been the theater lobby. Paige shook Papa Morrison’s hand and took some keys from him. You froze when Chis looked up and made eye contact with you, but Eddie squeezed your hand protectively and all Chris could do was cross his arms and follow his dad out of the theater with his tail between his legs. 

You’d learn much later from Robin (who heard from Columbia), that Papa Morrison had never intended to keep the theater, just hold it to sell out to someone else. Rage hadn’t been the feeling you had felt, but something between anger and disappointment conflicted with the fact that Corroded Coffin was finally getting the start they deserved here. 

Summer had never felt so bittersweet. 

It wasn’t all disappointment though, there were certain perks that came with being with the band. Every time they were in the studio, you found yourself talking to the staff, learning more about how studios worked, and that this specific studio was special. The radio tower that had been placed on top wasn’t just for show, Paige had decided that the best way to get Left Turn on the radio was to become a 2 in 1 radio station. 

You were enamored instantly. 

While Corroded Coffin worked with writing and playing, you found yourself bothering anyone who would talk to you until Paige decided that it would just be easier to allow you to intern with them on the radio side. 

You didn’t even bother giving Keith your two weeks notice. Your ugly polyester vest was dropped off with your last movie rental and keys. You hugged Steve and Robin, thanked them for everything that they had done for you and never looked back. Thankfully, you didn’t have to go to that store ever again, as there was a new rental chain called Blockbusters starting up right down the street from your home. 

“So, they’re really going to let you play Time Warp as your bonus track?” you asked one night as Eddie restrung his guitar. “I thought there’d be like, copyright stuff or something like that.”

“Paige explained it to me, it’s a bunch of weird legal loopholes but that’s the plan.” He said, plucking one of the strings. 

“And you’re good with it?” you asked, taking a strand of his hair and twirling it around your finger. “It’s not exactly about fighting demons or D&D.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the song that helped us get signed.” Eddie reached up to take your hand in his, and you laced your fingers together. “I have a soft spot for it.” 

“I hope you all get to shoot a music video for the cover.” you smiled. “I would pay anything to see you in Tim Curry’s lingerie.” 

“Not in a million years.” he laughed and kissed your hand before letting go. He fiddled with his guitar, checking the tuning as he started playing. You always found the electric guitar a little funny sounding, especially when it wasn’t plugged in. 

Eddie’s voice had gotten better over the last few months since Corroded Coffin started working professionally, but there was something about his voice that was distinctly him. Something raw and real, that couldn’t be replicated or trained. 

“I love you, Eddie.” you said, interrupting the chorus. He stopped and looked up at you with a grin. 

“I love you, too.” Eddie said back, and you leaned in and kissed him again. 

Let’s do the Time Warp again

Let’s do the Time Warp again. 

a/n: Well folks, this is it! This is the official last chapter of Wing Man. The epilogue and post-credit scene will come out on Friday (the one year anniversary of me posting chapter 1!). I'll have more to say about that later, but for now, thank you all for the support. I couldn't have done this without you all <3

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

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[gallusrostromegalus]

Your Ulquiorra plans are very intriguing, he may be one of my faves from the og- How does he survive exactly and how does he end up in the court guard?

Do they let him roam and leave him be like the crow problem or do they eventually have dedicated arrancar babysitters? What is Ulqui the most curious about, is there certain squads he hangs around in more than others? Does his social awareness get better or does he try obliterating some poor sod because they stood in the middle of the hallway for too long? Does he manage to make some friends?

He do be a blorbo fr

Asking for a friend obvs and not for a Squad 9 ficlet at all *clears throat*

...so he actually ends up in the Royal Realm, not the court guard.

Specifically, when everyone else finally manages to subdue Aizen, Gin yoinks him off to the Royal Realm to be fed to the Life Machine, Ulquiorra zips through the portal after them, because he's determined to finish actually kicking Aizen's ass.

Instead, Ulquiorra ends up inside the Actual Soul King Palace, with exactly no supervision.

Being as the total population of the royal realm is 5 super-captains, a couple dozen assistants of dubious autonomy, and Gin, it's not hard for Ulquiorra to go do whatever the hell he wants undetected for several weeks, and when people do start noticing that things are amiss-

Kirinji is having a deeply paranoid reaction to the sudden appearance of masses of black hair in the drains of some of his hot springs. 

At first he thinks he’s going bald, but then he begins to suspect the other guards… and then that this is, somehow, a message from Tama.  The Kodoku is almost done, isn’t it?

Not wanting anyone to learn his secret, he tells no-one.

Hikifune notices that some of her food is missing- high protein, fat and iron stuff like pork belly and calf liver, but also candies and fruits.

At first she thinks there’s rats again, but then realizes- This is what someone used to starving takes. She prepares a more nutritionally balanced care package for him, along with a note that he’s welcome at her table any time.

...Hikifune didn’t kill the Mod Konpaku- she smuggled as many as possible into the royal realm with her as sous-chefs, but she couldn’t get all of them, and some still shuffle in, drawn to their mother.   She hopes her lost children will all come home soon.

Not wanting to jeapordize the safety of her children, she tells no-one.

-Senjumaru is initially *pissed* that SOMEONE not only stole a pair of denim short pants from her latest collection, they used her good fabric shears to CUT HAIR, but then she gets a better look at the black fur and WOW this is terrific long fringe stuff what is it it’s too soft to be horsehair, too long to be rabbit and there’s LOTS of it??? 

Well.

She supposes they can have a pair of Jorts in exchange.  She leaves him a note to make an appointment next time, she’ll make him something that fits instead of whatever is on the rack.

Not wanting to lose her position or the possibility of a new friend, she tells no-one.

Ichibe gets up in the middle of the night because he’s feeling restless- something is nagging him, trivial but irritating, like a pea irritates a princess, and goes into his studio to practice strokes and katas to soothe himself. 

But in the middle of the studio, standing over the good paper, is some sort of DEMON with glowing green eyes and horns and terrible bat wings and… jorts?  He’s so startled he doesn’t immediately strike the wretched thing down OR read it’s name and it scrambles away, the tail knocking over everything in the middle shelf of his inkstand and splattering it *everywhere* before it jumps out the window and flies away.

Ichibe curses and gnashes his teeth- everything is MESS, and FURTHERMORE, The Damn Thing has used up his good hot press paper and written the most AWFUL poetry… in unfortunately extremely good calligraphy.

Deeply embarrassed, he tells no-one.

...They're all WAAAAAY too paranoid and secretive to actually *tell* any of their colleagues that something weird is going on.

Except Oetsu, who assumes Ulquiorra is a Zanpaktou spirit that's crawled out out the pit from which all spirits he builds swords for emerge, and that absolutely nothing unusual is going on at all!

Sure, Batboy is a little bit weird and talks like a Bryonic protagonist, but it's nice to have somebody to actually *talk* to for once.

Oetsu has never actually *been* to spirit world for any extended period of time, and is maybe a little iffy on some of the specifics of some of the latest happenings of the last 2,000ish years.

Like that Arrancar exist.

Sure, Batboy's got a weird hole in his chest, but Oetsu does not immediately associate weird negative space in a dude's torso with him being a hollow. He deals with MUCH weirder-looking spirts all the time!

Eventually, Gin realizes Ulqiorra followed him into The Royal Realm, but he doesn’t seem particularly bent on Destruction.

If anything, he seems to have gotten a good bath, filled out a little bit, gotten a sword, some MUCH better-looking trousers and some mysterious ink stains and overall calmed down and looks better.

...Good for him!

But Gin’s got a lot of work to do, so Ulquiorra is now his intern! Ulquiorra: What’s an Intern? Gin Uh. An intern is a guy who lives in the office closet who brings you snacks! Ulquiorra: …That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about internships to dispute it. Gin: Whatever, just bring me a rat or something. Ulquiorra: …How about some ham? Gin: That’d be great actually. Ulquiorra: Get hammed, idiot. *throws ham at Gin but he catches it in his mouth like a dog catching a frisbee* Ulqiorra, after a few minutes of watching Aizen get taffy’d: So what’s all this… for? Gin: *Explains The Life machine, and it’s subsequent befuckening* Ulquiorra: We should ask Orihime to do this.  She’s the smartest person I know. Gin: You know like four people, and the other three are the SOB in the taffy puller, a cat, and me.  That ain’t a high bar. Gin: …she is still smarter than both of us though. Hm. 

Ulquiorra spends a few months like this- wandering around exploring, visiting and gradually getting better at deciding to do things on his own initiative, and to just... enjoy existing.

Meanwhile, Orihime has been working on working out the math behind how Kido Spells are composed, and cracked into the language of Soul King and The Life machine. She’s worked out that there’s something squiffy about some of the spells- two kinds of logic, like there are two authors. (One is the Life machine’s original programming, the other is Soul King’s edits to Reality to improve the wheel). The second logic makes more sense for how reality actually operates, but isn’t as complete. -She’s puzzling over this discrepancy when Shiro wanders over and makes a bad “Maybe he’s Dead?” joke Orihime: ...that would explain a lot actually. See this line right here? It’s like. Half of a new spell. And also the most recent change I could find.  It’s like whoever was writing this got interrupted halfway through and just. Never came back to it. Shiro: Oh. Shiro: …Can you finish it? Orihime: ...I think I can, actually, but.  Well, I can’t figure out how he was making the edits stick? Like? Where was he inputting this that the spell actually changes reality? Ichigo: Aizen was trying to go to the Royal Realm where the Soul King lives, right?  Maybe the terminal to edit the mainframe is up there? Orihime: ... Orihime: Oh my god. I think you’re right. Orihime: Well, the universe didn’t implode so I'm pretty sure Aizen isn’t editing there, but… Orihime: *Takes out Matsumoto’s old spirit phone which she stole along with Hitsugaya's when she got kidnapped to Las Noches, frowns at it for a while, then dials a number on it* Ichigo, shiro: ?? Orihime: *Holds up a finger to indicate she’s on an important call and they need to be quiet. Someone answers Orihime: Ulquiorra? Ulquiorra: Bwah? Ichigo and Shiro: BWAH?? Orihime: We have a lot to talk about, but I need you to answer a few questions for me, please? Ulquiorra: ok??? Orihime: Where are you, right now? -- Ulquiorra is in Hikifune’s kitchen, snitching food again. Ulquiorra: …A Kitchen. Orihime: in broader terms.  Living world? Hueco mundo? Soul Society? Ulquiorra: uhhhhh… none of the above? Orihime: is it an additional plane of reality? Ulquiorra: yeah? Orihime: Is there a large palace or something like that in it? Ulquiorra, worried: Yeah?? Orihime: is there, anywhere in that plane, but probably in the palace, a place with a lot of math text in it, like I was writing on the walls of Las Noches? Ulquiorra, alarmed: Yeah??? Orihime: Oh, good! Ulquiorra: It is? Orihime: Well, yes, but listen- Listen, okay? UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU, OR ANYONE ELSE, TOUCH **ANY** PART OF THAT WRITING. Ulquiorra: Why? Orihime: the universe might end. Ulquiorra: …I’m gonna go lock that room real fast. Orihime: Thank you. Call me back when you can and we’ll talk, okay? Ulquiorra: Yes Ma’am! *Hangs up* -- Ichigo: WHAT Shiro: YEAH, WHAT Orihime: Good news! Nothing broke yet! Both: Yet? Orihime: I uh. I’m pretty sure. That nothing broke. And that Ulquiorra is kind of technically guarding the place where God edits the computer code that makes up reality. Both: … Shiro, despairing: THAT FUCKING MORON?? Ichigo: yeah, that’s not “Good” news. Orihime: It’s fine! Just so long as nobody breaks in there, it’ll be fine!

Anyway, I hope that helps, and it's GRIMMJOW that ends up drafted into the Court Guards :)

[taehyucng]

why i think uzi doorman is bisexual 🩷💜💙

i made a thread about this on twitter (ivzura) so i will post it on tumblr too

-

before i start, i want to let everyone know that i am bi and as a bisexual, i notice uzi seems bi coded to me. not sure if any other bisexuals notice or think the same, but these are my thoughts and my perspective

-

• bi lighting

bisexual lighting are used where bisexual characters are portrayed under the colors of pink, purple and blue to show they’re bisexual

uzi is in a lot of bi lighting, not only once but many times. i take bi lighting very seriously bc it’s not that the lights are bisexuals themselves but it is to show and portray bi characters (there’s more than these but i can’t add more images)

in the knife fight scene from nuzi, the lights are all colorful and flashy, but the moment they had their personal talk, it stopped to a specific color (pink, purple, and blue). when n throwed uzi, the colors went back to being colorful and flashy

in ep 6, when the sentinels flashed at nuzi, you can see there is pink, purple and blue (i can only add one video so when you go rewatch the scene, you will get what i mean). the colors from the sentinals eyes and flash is like blue/white, and notice that there isn’t any pink and purple when looking around. there’s a ss of a sentinals flashing the light towards the audience

which should’ve been the same when flashing towards nuzi but it didn’t, pink, purple and blue appeared. i could also say n is also under those bi lighting bc bi lighting appeared when they’re together, so he seems bi coded to me as well.

• attraction

now, i know ppl will say “but we don’t see uzi blushing to any women characters” not every bi characters have too. bi characters can be confirmed bi and that’s it, it’s still a rep. bi ppl don’t have to date/blush ppl of every single gender to be bi and this happens to canonical bi characters too (luz, marceline, sasha) about how it’s not enough for ppl. it’s always bi characters having to “prove” or not “bi enough” for ppl to accept them as bisexual. mind you, hunter from the owl house is confirmed bi and we don’t see him blushing or dating any guys, however, have a bi patch on his jacket and bi colors from dana’s art. sasha from amphibia only have a bi sticker and is confirmed bi. this can happen the same with uzi (and n) by the lighting and uzi seems to have men/masculine preference. “i don’t feel any sapphic vibes from her” is being bi not sapphic to you? even if bisexuals date the opposite gender, it does not take away being wlw/nblw. bisexuals are still sapphic no matter who we date bc sexuality is about attraction and not dating history. i really need ppl to get rid of that biphobic mindset that bisexual ppl (including characters in media) needs to “prove” themselves that they are bi. most of you don’t even understand bisexuality at all.

-

we only have 6 episodes and s1 is still not over so don’t expect this to be long. anyway, uzi is bi with men/masculine preference and n is also bi, so nuzi is bi4bi (we need more bi4bi in media). i don’t want ppl to use uzi as a robot as an excuse to be biphobic. “uzi is binary code, her love interest in male, etc.” this is a series called murder drones, all drones have personality, have thoughts, feelings, families, etc. uzi grew WINGS and TAIL, so why can’t she be bi? and n is her love interest but it doesn’t mean she can’t be bisexual. again, bisexuals don’t have to prove to date the same gender to be bi. what’s funny is ppl think she can’t be bi and yet, assume she’s straight (when she has no confirmed sexuality) bc ppl see straight as a default.

[seramilla]

So in the Emily stays in Hell au…

Who would find Sera first and when?

I assume Sera’s fall is like a meteor crashing down and cratering the ground on impact, the vestiges of divinity gone, everything holy burnt away allowing hell to sink its claws and warp yet another ex-heavenly host. A primal scream of agonizing pain leaves her parched throat and cracked lips. Is that her voice? It doesn’t sound like her voice…

She manages to get to her feet when the pain suddenly hits her full force and she screams again. It feels like something is tearing through her flesh. Her head throbs when a pair of pronghorns burst through her skin. She’s still screaming as her tailbone grows into something long and serpentine seemingly ending with a stinger. Her legs contort and twist into something feline. Sera sobs as claws break through her nail-beds of her charred black forearms. Her sclera blacken as her glowing white irises lose their luster when she spies the remains of her shattered halo in the dirt. There’s so much of her golden blood pooling around her but she doesn’t regret it. She’s so tired and everything hurts but…she has to find Emily, she HAS to find her sister and let her know…but a familiar voice catches her attention…

“…Sera…?”

Then everything goes dark.

Whether divine intervention or sheer luck allowed Carmilla Carmine to find Sera that day, the overlord isn't certain. One moment, she and her girls are scrounging around an old battlefield, looking for weaponry and any other spare mechanical parts they can find, and the next, the sky quite literally opens up above them.

A loud BOOM and a roll of thunder can be heard across the Pentagram, and what sounds like a meteor falling out of the sky. Then, like some sick joke, a deathly sounding hymn follows the cacophony in its wake, and something shatters against the ground, not even half a mile from where they'd been standing.

Carmilla might have turned away. Very nearly does, except she recognizes that particular type of Heavenly body. Not many meteors make their way to Hell; there is no universe or outer space around them to make that possible (generally speaking). No, that sound had been one of an angel falling. In a particularly violent, intentional sort of way; one being forced down, with nothing to break its fall.

She tells her girls to go home. The last time this had happened, Emily had reappeared with Charlie; thankfully, the younger Seraphim hadn't been quite as badly injured as she could have been. Charlie had helped in her descent, but it still wasn't a gentle landing. This person, however...she imagines they are in pain. Quite a lot of pain. And with Lucifer nowhere in sight, she takes it upon herself to be the one to greet this unfortunate soul.

As soon as Carmilla sees the person lying there, however, she knows something isn't right. She's seen angels fall before; it's always a messy ordeal. This one, though...appears to be in mid-transformation. She tries to push herself up, and cries out under the weight of her own pain, and the agony of her twisting, mutating body fighting against her every movement.

Wings are charred. Blackened, with holes and entire feathers missing, having been incinerated up from the fall. They all look different -- some batlike, some like charred bird wings. Horns have already begun sprouting from her head, a tail slashes back and forth in irritation at its new existence, and screaming can be heard as the woman's form contorts and bends upon itself to accommodate these startling new features.

It's the voice that finally tells Carmilla why her gut feeling had been firing off. The closer she gets to this person, the more she recognizes the horrified pitch and timbre of that scream. It's one she had never dared hope to hear again. And witnessing it now, in this circumstance, fills Carmilla Carmine with so much pain, agony, and sorrow, she almost falls onto the ground under the weight of her own grief. She is weeping right along with the woman.

“…Sera…?” Carmilla cries, barely able to keep it together when the person in question looks up at her.

Those eyes. The horns. The wings. All of it is foreign. Twisted and grotesque. A horrific approximation of the woman she had once loved, even at this moment, continuing to reshape and reform in that unfortunate and inevitable change that every Fallen must succumb to. The process is happening much faster with Sera than it had with her, and listening to Sera's screams quite literally makes Carmilla want to die. She is sick to her stomach, and almost empties the contents of her breakfast onto the ground.

"Car---aaaggghhh!" Scales are forming on the tale, while it thrashes around and smacks against the woman's kneeling legs. The horns are becoming less like little pinpricks and more like curved spikes on her forehead, poking through her disheveled, singed hair. Fur is sprouting from her lower limbs, and her eyes are changing color, swirling and twisting in a whirlpool of fire that hasn't quite settled into its new normal yet.

Her wings...oh Fucking Hell, her wings...Carmilla doesn't even want to comprehend what's happening there.

"Carmilla!" Sera screeches, reaching for her with a clawed hand that is still elongating and changing to an onyx black right before her very eyes. "Carmilla, please...! Oh please, god, help me!"

Carmilla rushes to Sera's side. She moves like in a dream. Like time isn't real, and everything is in slow motion. She wants to believe this is only a nightmare she will wake from. She's had several like it before, of Sera eventually falling. But the sight before her is too vile, too horrible, too grotesque to be anything conjured from her mind. Her imagination would never hurt Sera this much.

"Sera! Sera, mi amor, breathe! Just breathe! Take my hand! It will be over soon!"

"Carmilla, what are you even doing here?! I ca-I can't! It hurts! Carmilla, it hurts so much!"

"I know! I know, mi querida. Take my hand! It will be over soon!"

Sera takes Carmilla's large claw in her own, squeezing hard and piercing the skin. Carmilla flinches, but it's nothing compared to the pain that Sera is going through. Carmilla squeezes Sera's hand back, even though her palms are soaked in her own golden blood from where Sera's nicked her skin, and it's trailing down her arm, soaking into her sleeve.

But she doesn't care. It's the absolute last fucking thing on her mind right now.

She can be here with Sera for this. If she can't outright stop the pain, she can guide her through it, at the very least. Be present during the most agonizing thing Sera will ever have to go through. Unlike the last several thousands of years, she won't let Sera be alone in this. No. Never again.

Eventually, things on Sera's body stop shifting and twisting. They settle into a more or less final amalgamation of varying features, which may eventually change or morph even more as Sera settles into her new body. All new Fallen angels must go through something of this sort. Eventually, Sera will learn to control how she looks, and hide some of these features. Just as Carmilla once did. Carmila looks more or less "human" now, for lack of a better comparison. At least more than she did when she first fell.

She'd learned to control it and hide most of what she doesn't like. Now her true form mostly comes out when she is angry, and or when she needs it. Sera will learn her own abilities and limitations, as well. But as things settle down, Sera collapses, overspent and tired from the entire ordeal. Carmilla is grateful that, at least for now, the worst of it is over.

She picks up Sera in her large claws. Sera has always been tall. This manticore-esque creature is no different. But to Carmilla, she weighs like nothing. She never has. Carmilla will always carry her. So she does... carries her back to her compound, so she can call Belphegor. And let Emily know what's happened...that her sister is hurt, but safe.

Sera's world is about to change. Much more than it already has. And this time, Carmilla will be there when she awakens. And for every day and moment and second after that. She will never leave this woman's side again. Ever. She swears it on her life.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

PADMÉ AMIDALA (STAR WARS) (CW: Pregnancy)

1.) From the beginning, she only existed to be Anakin's love interest and Luke and Leia's mother. Although she's an important political figure in all three prequels, her characterization in being Anakin's crush/maternal figure in Phantom Menace, Anakin's love interest in Attack of the Clones, and Anakin's wife and baby mama in Revenge of the Sith. She literally dies of a broken heart when Anakin turns to the dark side in RotS, right after giving birth to the twins, because her whole purpose in that movie was to motivate Anakin's fall and be the twins' incubator. What's more, she didn't even know she was carrying twins until after Luke was born because George Lucas apparently gave no thought to what prenatal care would have been like in a universe with futuristic technology despite the whole main plot revolving around Anakin thinking Padme was going to die in childbirth. There was also a subplot cut from RotS where Padme helped found the rebellion with Bail and Mon and then goes to Mustafar to kill Anakin after he falls, but it was apparently deemed not important enough to keep.

2.) Her characterization was drastically forgotten about in the prequel films in favor of her husband's (despite her being one of three main characters in the prequel franchise). She went from queen of an entire planet to a senator of a galaxy-wide political body to dying of a broken heart. She does not question the actions of those close to her despite them contradicting her character morals (which her character was built on!!). Plus, she is rarely mentioned outside of the animated series. The show, Kenobi, doesn't even mention her name, only that she was essentially kind and brave. Also, she was not approached for a cameo in any of the largest related media while the men have.

3.) oh boy. she basically dies because apparently George Lucas doesn’t realize that women’s healthcare exists??? like you could argue that she wouldn’t have died if she just had an OBGYN. in 2/3 of the movies she’s basically just used as a tool for the main male character’s development. then there’s this whole plotline in The Clone Wars (aka TCW) series where there’s all this gross stuff with her ex who literally tries to kiss her when she’s actively saying no, then her husband proceeds to lowkey victim blame her??? it’s just so unnecessary. I could go on

BUMBLE (WARRIOR CATS) (CW: Domestic Abuse)

1.) Back with another Warriors submission, I bet you’ll be getting a lot from other people too LMAO. Bumble is a kittypet (housecat) who befriends the male protagonist Gray Wing’s girlfriend, Turtle Tail, and lets her stay in her house. This gets Gray Wing all pissy because he’s controlling of Turtle Tail and shares most of the wild/clan cat’s proclivity for looking down upon kittypets. Turtle Tail gets pregnant by another kittypet, Tom, who tries to control her by hiding the fact that humans take away kittens after they’re born. Eventually Bumble comes clean about it so Turtle Tail returns to the forest. Some time later, Bumble is found in the forest seeking refuge because Tom has been physically abusing her, scratching her where the humans can’t see. So, she’s CANONICALLY ACKNOWLEDGED as a domestic abuse victim (unlike Squirrelflight who meets all the textbook signs but the narrative and authors deny it). How do you think our good guy protagonists, i.e. Gray Wing “The Wise” and Turtle Tail, respond to an abuse victim seeking refuge? They tell Bumble to go home, thinking to themselves that she’s fat and soft and therefore would be useless in their group. Bumble stands up for herself and asks to speak with the leaders of the group. One of them asks if Bumble could just get along with Tom better (bro???) and when Bumble says it’s not within her control, the leader suggests being nicer to the humans instead. Another rival leader butts in and verbally abuses Bumble again by ripping into how fat and lazy and useless she would be. Despite Turtle Tail having been friends with Bumble and Bumble had helped her through her own hard times, to Gray Wing’s approval Turtle Tail chooses not to intervene as Bumble is forcibly escorted back to her abuser. But that’s not all. Later Bumble is found in the forest maimed and dying, and it seems likely that Gray Wing’s brother Clear Sky, a male with a long history of violence, is the culprit. Rather than mourn the dying innocent cat, Gray Wing’s primary concern is how other cats might be mean to Clear Sky if they think he’s a murderer, and reassures himself that refusing to help Bumble in her time of need was still the right decision.

2.) I have no idea how she managed to be written so horrifically from an abuse victim and woman (/she-cat I guess) standpoint but here we are. Okay so my memory is a bit fuzzy but basically Bumble was a character in Dawn of the Clans and a close friend to Turtle Tail, a major character, as well as a character who lived close to Tom, an abusive dickhead of a cat. Bumble was largely depicted as just a really sweet cat. Turtle Tail was very briefly the mate of Turtle Tail, but once she got pregnant, he became super violent towards both her and our gal Bumble. Tom actively hid the fact that, once her kits were old enough, Turtle Tail’s kits would probably be taken from her, and made Bumble keep quiet about this too, but Bumble eventually told Turtle Tail the truth, Turtle Tail left and Tom became extremely violent towards Bumble because of this, and was extremely abusive towards her. Eventually, Bumble ran away from him to where Turtle Tail and co were and begged to stay, since the wilderness as a whole was genuinely more safe than being around Tom was. Naturally, this meant kitty xenophobia from cats who had only arrived in that area recently, because everybody was insistent than, since she was a kittypet/house cat, things wouldn’t work out, and even her friend Turtle Tail denied her on this, insisted she was too soft to live in the wild and only sent her towards a cat Bumble wanted to convince because she was absolutely certain she’d be denied. Also our good old protagonist Gray Wing got to spend this scene being all upset about this soft cat wanting to join them to escape an abuser and was all bitter about the fact that Turtle Tail lived with her for a short period of time, and he also got to have a sweet romantic moment with Turtle Tail after denying an abuse victim an escape from her abuser. Also as much as I like Tall Shadow usually she sucked ass in the following scene because she was essentially telling Bumble to go find a way to make peace with Tom as if she was not the one being abused (Bumble pointed out that Tom was the one who would need to make peace for it to happen, not her) and that she should just make life better by going back to being a housecat and being spoiled despite the fact that she was actively at risk with her owners because of Tom. Then she leaves after being threatened by several cats there and is called soft on the way out. The next time she appears she is literally dying, and her death is just a plot device to create a stupid little mystery which is solved in a very stupid way. Also her abuser does continue to be a shithead and for some reason is fully permitted to kidnap his own children but he also gets a heroic death and the only reason I will not rant more about him is because this is too long already. Long story short Bumble deserves the world and everybody who decided not to let her escape her abuser just because they thought she was soft sucks

3.) Is nice to the group of starving, feral wild cats that left the mountains so their friends and family could have more food to eat and befriends one of them to the point of opening her home to her after she leaves the group because the guy she likes is too dumb to notice she likes him and keeps falling for his brother’s love interests.

Unfortunately, because Bumble is a house cat who lives in a house with people and not a Wild and Free cat, this is a grave and horrible crime (luring a wild cat into the safety and comforts of domesticity) and is villainized for the rest of the arc, including for things wildly out of her control

I.E.

Her owners taking in an aggressive male cat that bullies and abuses the two female cats already living there

When Bumble’s friend leaves and goes back to the wild cats, Bumble leaves her home (as the abuse as has gotten worse) to see if she could either get help or have her friend return so the abuse isn’t as bad again)

Bumble eventually dies in the wild because the feral cats all hate her for ‘stealing’ their friend and tricking her into becoming a kittypet for awhile and refuse to help Bumble adjust to wild life or even teaching her how to hunt.

They are littl e to no hard feelings at her death beyond 'good riddance’ but the aggressive tomcat that chased her out of her home is later regarded with good feelings and regret at such a 'good, heroic cat’ passing when he dies despite him literally never doing a good or kind thing in his life and actually causing trouble for the wild cats right before dying

[itsabouttimex2]

not sure if anyone asked about the Monkie Glaive AU yet, but how does it work, exactly? I'm really curious to know about the group and character dynamics considering it's a Monster Hunter crossover! (I was listening to some MH + MHS themes today and it reminded me of this au ! :D)

Monkie Glaive

(I’m really glad you asked this! I was hoping to expand on this AU!)

So, to start- it basically transports the beasts and ecosystem of Monster Hunter into the world of Monkie Kid, which maintains a very high-tech and futuristic world.

It also turns demons and Celestials into monster-hybrids! Here’s five of the characters who are monsters in the AU:

For example, Sun Wukong is a Rajang, which means he can potentially tap into lightning abilities- after consuming a Kirin horn. He can also transform into a full-sized form, and is capable of entering a “Furious” state.

Also, instead of beetles or moths- glaive wielders partner with little FFM monkeys! These monkeys also take the place of Palicos! So, Wukong’s legacy spreads beyond his defeat of the Black Dragon- people to this day emulate his fighting style and actively live with his subjects in day to day life.

No single weapon- he cycles through old glaives and hunting horns as he pleases- after all, he gave the Ruyi Jingu Bang to MK!

Macaque is actually a Nargacuga! Instead of commanding shadows, he can turn invisible and fling spikes from his tail. And, like any Nargacuga, he’s sensitive to sound- especially to Sonic Bombs, and he’ll immediately enter a rage state once he recovers. Macaque wields Leumundslist, and has his own little melanistic monkey partner- she’s the only thing he really cares about. Although, meeting Y/N might just change that…

The Brotherhood is active even to the present day, having never been sealed in the Ink Scroll. They still command Camel Ridge and keep their “subjects” locked up nice and tight, refusing to allow any mortals amongst them to become Hunters or Riders. Instead, they themselves do the defending and fighting, and all their cherished mortals stay perfectly safe inside their walled kingdom- no one leaves.

But, with a little convincing and begging, a stranger may be allowed to come inside for safety and supplies- but only if they’re willing to stay. Expect to sign lots of contracts and papers written by Yellowtusk (who is a Gammoth, giving him the ability to create snow and ice. He wields the Iceshaker.) that were created for the sole purpose of keeping innocent and kind souls trapped inside their smothering protective city. These papers will be cited and show any time you try to leave.

Peng is a Gold Rathian, giving them the ability to both spit fireballs and secrete poison- instead of a tail, though, Peng’s poison is spread by their quills. Those quills also contains a mild paralytic, useful for quieting dissenters or subduing runaways to ferry back “home”. They wield the Gold Chordmaker and maintain a more supportive combat role than their Sworn Brothers. They’re usually first in line to track down any “wayward souls” that leave the loving protection of Camel Ridge.

Azure Lion is obviously a Lunastra, which gives him both a big pair of wings and ability to breath fire- as well as spread flammable dust to ignite later. With the Roilcloud Sword in hand, Azure has sworn to protect all his cherished prisoners subjects from the violent woes of a monster-ridden world- whether they like it or not. There’s not a single resident of Camel Ridge that he doesn’t adore with all his heart, nor even one that he’s forgotten the name of.

And not one is allowed to leave his care.

[sonic-fankid-showdown]

Poll 29, Round 1.

About Blitz: (by @jestopolis) Blitz is a chaos energy sink, meaning that his body is barely able to keep itself alive unless he absorbs energy from another source. His parents didn't know this and were scared of harming their fragile child, so he was majorly left to raise himself. He grew up bitter and jaded living in his parents' shadows, and tried to explode the whole world about it once he figured out what he was capable of. #justgirlythings

About Juice: (by @sonlc) 10 years old. Juice uses she/they, but doesn’t mind any other pronouns being used for her. Juice is Silver's kid. Her other parent is unknown. Actually, how she came into existence is unknown too. Silver doesn’t seem to know where she came from himself, though they do seem to be related because their likenesses are so similar and she has the same psychokinetic powers he does. Her being raised is kind of a collective effort-- it takes a village and all that. Silver is her main parent but others like Blaze, Sonic, and Tails help out often enough that she would consider them family. In fact, they were technically named BY Sonic both in universe and in real life. They were created because of a joke I made while watching satAM with some friends about the fact that Sonic says “gotta juice!” a lot. In universe, Silver named them Juice because Sonic suggested it (as a joke) and he couldn’t think of anything better. She has an overactive imagination, and tends not to speak very much. Instead, she prefers to use non-speech sounds like humming/chirping/growling when communicating. When they do speak, they’re typically very soft spoken, but can be loud when they want to be. Their fur is white, but their quills are pearly iridescent and shimmer in light. Her eyes glow when using her powers. She likes to use them to make wings and to pick things up so she doesn’t have to touch them. She has texture problems, so they almost never wear clothes, including gloves and shoes. They’re also very picky with their food, however she WILL try to eat inedible things. Silver has had to stop her from chewing on random things like plastic and metal more than once. Their necklace is chewelry given to them by Sonic and Tails as a gift.