#still not really sure how imp heights work
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erthlyheavn · 1 year ago
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Ava isn't even the tallest out of the secretaries.
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It's Rosette at a whopping 8'5"
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And Bonnie is the shortest at 4'11"
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eldritch-spouse · 1 year ago
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[Part 6 of Gifted. Fem reader.]
Previous poll winner: Try to lure the gargoyle (65.3%)
TW: Mild exhibitionism; Soft cum inflation.
New choice! [VOTE]
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You can't help but think that pompous-looking blabbermouth isn't going to be of much help, especially not in the sour disposition he sports.
That leaves only one option- Paper bags McGee. Here goes nothing.
" Psst-! " You start, glancing hurriedly between his shadowed figure and the other two.
The gargoyle definitely hears you, pinprick eyes laser focused on you. Both heads look this way and that, even if the other one has no discernable hole to see through. It occurs to you it's a nervous tic, because he's trying to decide which direction to flee in. No, you can't let him leave! He's your only hope right now.
" Pspspspsps... " You don't know how to convince him, there's nothing on your person you can bribe him with. Even if you wanted to use your body as a lure, you can't convey that to him bound as you currently are.
The gargoyle starts to turn around hurriedly.
" No no hey-! " You strain upwards, as if that would help him hear your desperate whisper-screaming better. " Please- Get me out of here, please!
The head with that pinprick red pupil turns to glance at you again. You have no idea what to tell him, you're begging the monster, in total despair and hopelessness, there is nothing more you can do aside from helplessly and silently pleading with him.
Apparently, the monster can read the terror written all over you features, brought to stillness by the urgency you exhibit. It strikes him, for some reason. Spotting this, you try to exaggerate your expression, feeling like the bat you rode to climax only some time ago.
" ... Please... I'm scared. "
It takes a couple of seconds, during which you can feel sweat condensating on your forehead. Just buy it already, you oversized pussy of brute. Slowly, he turns back around on the roof and disappears into the darkness.
Did... Did he actually leave? Seriously?! After you got so close-
THUMP
You almost scream.
Heart skipping several beats -God, that can't be healthy- You get the urge to weep from joy once you spot that pinprick red glow emanating from the shadows. He landed! He's on the floor.
" Yes! " You murmur to yourself, watching the blue monster cautiously approach. He could be coming to tear you in two, for all your really know, but you'll take your chances at this point.
" Quickly! "
Casting one fearful glance at the caped demon, the gargoyle springs to action when he turns to apparently confiscate something off the small imp beside him.
He puts his palms on your legs very tentatively, as if afraid you'll bark at him. Curious. When he tugs, your body can only follow so far, as the strange construct keeping you tied to the bench protests. He puts two and two together fast, edging hard hands upwards before giving a harsh yank that you know is going to bruise later. But it does work, something snaps behind you with a wet noise, and you feel the binds around your upper body loosen to a degree.
For someone who was moving so slowly before, you're dragged off the bench and lumped onto his stony shoulder -Oof!- Faster than anticipated. God damn, he's more solid than you guessed! It's hard to think that something so heavy and dense can move exactly like flesh. You wish your hands were free so you could better gouge the texture of this peculiar skin.
As is, all you can do is try not to scream and trust the monster to have a good grip of you as he prepares to take flight. Now that you think about it, his wings should be a little bigger for his size, shouldn't they? They look... Underdeveloped. Well, you doubt any sort of benevolent god will listen, but you're just about ready to start praying for the best. Because, if he drops you from a decent height, without arms to brace important areas, you'll surely die.
Biting your lip is what grants you enough dignity to not make a scene, muffling the scream that would otherwise startle him into dropping you. The monster's grip on your waist is secure however.
His flight is clumsy and terrifying, as you can very clearly sense him dangerously losing balance at several points, tense like a spring and sweating up a storm while the monster visibly struggles, his little wings trying their best to carry not just him -Already quite the burden- But also you. At some point, you merely close your eyes. Whatever happens happens. Perhaps that's why he was hesitant to come down, he knew he'd have trouble getting back up.
Now more than ever, the chill in the air gets to you, skin covered in goosebumps while he scrabbles to find purchase and lands with less grace than a newborn gazelle. Unlatched from the monster's hold, you're gently deposited on mildly soft, foreign material. Confusion has you finally cracking an eye open.
You must be on the roof, the darkened tiles around confirm it, not to mention how the fog seems thicker from this height. A curious glance down reveals you've been sat on what you think is meant to be nest. Sticks, foreign fur, feathers and several cloths bundled together make up a rather large "bedding", nestled on a corner of a flat part of the roof which then elevates into another gable roof. If you were a gargoyle, you'd probably pick this spot too.
Speaking of, your rescuer, it seems, is apparently stuck staring at you like a deer in headlights.
You can just about see the gears turning in those heads. He got you up here, but he didn't think ahead too much. Obviously, it's imperative you don't let him linger in this contemplative state. He might get funny ideas and dump you back onto the ground, or decide to kill you.
In this proximity, you can finally gouge what the reddish things around his necks is supposed to be. A collar. Does... Is he someone's pet? But he's no animal! He's so much smarter than one, if this monster were no more than a beast, then surely none of this would have transpired, you'd be a bloody stain on the bench by now. Weird. Squinting, you strain to read what's written on the shiny metal tag.
" Pebble. " You start.
Pebble. Pebble? Are you fucking serious? What a name, a snort almost makes it past your lips. Yeah right, he's totally the size of one. The winged monster tenses at the mention of his name.
" Can you please help me out of these? " You flex your arms for emphasis, displaying the strange growths that are reluctant to free you even after being torn moments ago.
Pebble examines the weirdly-colored masses with as much puzzlement as you, exchanging a couple of anxious looks with you before raising one large stoned arm and swiping it down. The speed of it has you wincing and reclining your neck, thankfully not harmed, though the biological constructs around your upper body squirm and... Squeak? Before flopping apart. The opportunity is seized to roll your joints and expand your ribcage, instead of questioning what the Hell those things are.
Seemingly subscribing to your logic, Pebble doesn't give the pinkish things much thought either, grabbing them by the edges as they bleed something unknown onto the roof and flicking them away. One of the longer pieces is launched at another stray gargoyle who wandered a touch too close for Pebble's liking, being met with hissing and guttural snarling from the monster who you have only seen cowering up until now. Huh.
The other gargoyle snorts at the hit and scurries off. How odd, it was smaller than Pebble. Less shapely too, more grayish. You suppose there must be a wild variety of gargoyles out there, just as there are slimes of every shape and color. Seeing your alleged rescuer from the back reveals that, along with two heads, he sports two thin spade-tipped tails.
Well, you're free of binds now, but not exactly free to leave. After all, there's no way you can jump down from this height without breaking something. And even if you did manage to land without immediate skeletal damage, the chances of there being grubby hands out to catch you are high. Just the mental image of being snatched and tugged at by all ends as monsters fight over who gets to keep you is horrid enough to make sure you stay seated firmly in Pebble's wide nest. It's not like you trust yourself to scale the roof either. You're stuck. Back to square one.
God damn it.
Your sigh alerts the other one, who instantly turns to keep you fully in his gaze. Once more, he's nervously appraising you. What is he- Scared you'll bite him? Who hurt this monster so bad that he'll tremble before a little human like you?
Still determined to not let him think over the situation for too long, you extend a hand and sedately reach for one of his. The movement is slow enough that Pebble can reject it at any moment, yet he merely appears to tense, anticipation and dread visibly warring within him.
Soft fingers prod over what feels like solid stone but moves like real skin. You tickle at his palm absent-mindedly, marveling at the way creases of what would be skin still form when he twitches his fingers. Amazing. Apparently, the contact soothes the gargoyle, or maybe incites his own brand of curiosity, because he's closing the distance.
Sniffing rings out when the monster gets close, heads hovering over your own, leaning this way and that as the monster clearly tries to profile you via scent. You can only imagine you reek of Grimbly, sweat and sex. But who knows, maybe he's picking up on something else. Your hair fans out while he takes his time, chest expanding. Not the most pleasant of breaths, but it could be worse. Mostly, you have no issues staying still while the gargoyle familiarizes himself, going as far as to giggle when he starts to prod at your face and neck, paper bags crumpling.
You won't lie, a bit of a thrill starts taking hold of you when his increasingly eager exploration leads the gargoyle to loom over your front, body casting a great shadow upon you, wings spreading, as he shoves his heads onto your chest and abdomen. You can feel hard structures poking your skin where there's contact. Perhaps it's his teeth, or nose. You have no idea what his faces look like, and you're far from brave enough to dare lift those bags. It doesn't seem like a good idea to test your luck in a place that's so very eager to sink its claws into your neck.
Your giggling appears to please the monster, though it soon tapers off into a gasp as something slimy flattens over your dress. From beneath the bag with no holes on the front hangs a surprisingly long tongue, dribbling like a faulty faucet while he tastes the fabric of your clothes. You can't imagine it's particularly pleasant... The muscle trails a path up and dips into your cleavage for a second, causing you to squirm and heat up again. Fast. Your reactions are always too fast and you're not very keen on this jarring loss of control. It's as if every time someone comes along and brushes over you, you can't help but light up, set aflame instantly.
" P- Pebble... "
You don't really know what you're asking him for. Nor do you care to linger on that muddled thought.
The gargoyle, having become nothing short of enthusiastic in the brief time he took to smell you, dips to your nethers, clumsily prodding at your legs until you uncross them on his nest. You know you're starting to get wet, there's no use denying it, you're not yourself today and your body merely reflects it. Both heads seem to war for which one gets to stuff itself against your shielded cunt, his tails dance and twine with each other in the air. Well, if he's content to just fondle you through your clothes, it's far from the worst thing that's happened today. So there's that.
Of course, after all that has transpired, you'd be a fool to place any sort of merit to that statement. Because, predictably, when Pebble straightens up, you spot a fat length between his legs. In great contrast to the gargoyle's pretty azure tint, his cock is a bright red hue that stands out like a sore thumb. Knubs adorn it, along with what you can only assume is a worryingly-sized knot sitting comfortably on the root of that throbbing thing. It's... Well, like most of the monsters who have taken a liking to you today, nothing to sneeze at. Nevertheless, in that moment, you know this stone giant won't rest until he gets more.
The gargoyle seems to be thinking, though less nervously so for once. You're not too sure what's going through his head, considering the monster hasn't spoken a word to you thus far -Maybe it can't- But he nods to himself on both ends after a while. You're only privy to the meaning of such when Pebble grabs the hem of your dress and, instead of tearing it off as you expected, drapes it over his upper half.
Oh-kay...
Crawling forward, the bulky monster makes himself at home right between your legs, face to face with your uncovered pussy, you imagine. Another weird snort sniff noise and, a blue hand crawls upwards too, and you finally realize why he's doing things like this. When the sound of paper rustling is heard, you know he has edged those bags out of the way. Well then, that's one way to deal with timidity. Is what lies beneath those rudimentary coverings truly so horrible? You'd best not wonder.
Or rather, you're not given time to wonder.
The same tongue that sampled you once before now returns with a fervor, edging up your right thigh before slapping onto your cunt. It circles around your entrance, perhaps afraid of something for a brief moment, then flirts with the wetness you've been trying to ignore. Pebble makes a loud rumble, which tapers off into a gleeful moan. Thankfully, he's gentle when he slides a good chunk of his tongue up your used pussy. It's strange- Although he comes off as inexperienced, his demeanor isn't brutish, which is something you can appreciate after today's events.
As life has it lately, your inner monolog jinxes you.
Because Pebble finds a particular taste inside your walls. Something that definitely belongs to the pretty boy you railed on a certain bench. His immediate chuff is ambiguous, your legs are pushed further apart and the gargoyle starts eating you out ravenously. Thighs twitching and arms trembling, you have nothing to hold onto but the protrusions of his horns, grasping them for balance through the thin dress fabric while you moan quietly.
Perhaps eating you out isn't the best description, it feels more as if he's cleaning you out. Removing the mark of the male that claimed you prior. The drool he ends up slathering you in during such efforts is cold, coating your nethers and staining his nest as you squirm. Between his eager panting, your whining and the wet claps of flesh of flesh, you can only hope the bystanders below are oblivious to what's happening.
Not that you honestly care too much at this point. It's just an afterthought for your own safety.
Needily bucking your hips onto the monster's tongue is met with a distorted purr as both heads nuzzle against you, odd shapes poking at soft skin. Misaligned teeth perhaps? If so, he's being very gentle not to nick you on them. Something else joins the commotion beneath your pink dress. Ah, his other tongue? Right, he does have two heads, that makes sense.
The appendage, just as slimy as its twin, trails a path up the opposite leg and slobbers the side of your now quivering pussy, denied entrance by its twin as of now. Perhaps for the best, you don't know if you can take two of those fat tongues at once. Instead, it samples everything around itself, from outer lips to wedging itself between your cheeks and circling the rim of your ass, then snaking a sloppy path back up to slurp above. When it nudges your clit, somehow not exhausted after all this time, you jerk up and gasp, an incoherent noise leaving you as you tug one of the heads closer by its horns.
He misinterprets it as pain, whining out in what you assume is meant to be an apology and beginning to retract said tongue.
" Wait- Wait no, that's good! K-Keep going. "
Fortunately, he does, rather clumsily experimenting with different patterns around your button while the other muscle resumes its cleaning, a surprising level of coordination between the two movements.
The rest of the world melts off your mind in the midst of this mildly gross, but relentless attention to your womanhood. Your soft noises of approval are eaten up by the large gargoyle, whose tails swat and thump at the roof. At some point, you catch sight of his hips moving, and realize the poor thing is so excited he's basically humping the air, panting and shuddering against your pussy, the humidity and warmth accumulating beneath your dress making you sweat. You don't think Pebble gets a lot of attention from others here, he's acting like it at least. Those aimless pumps get you to giggle in between whining.
His tongue retracts from your now clenching hole and the other takes its place, only to slip out a while later. You realize, with a bit of amusement, that he's using both to eat you out, the greedy mutt. Where one darts in, the other waits for its turn, creating a rhythm you didn't think could feel as amazing as it does. God fuck, you're going to come. It's no surprise you're getting worked up so fast either, after the tryst with the waiter that left you high and dry.
One of your hands hurriedly darts to reach under your dress, searching frantically for the monster's own stony one, intending to teach him to flick your clitoris while he works. When it accidentally brushes the side of one of his paper bags however, Pebble chokes and snarls gutturally. You know the sound was aggressive, but your cunt clenched hard, the vibrations rocking your entire body and dragging a jarring orgasm out of you.
The howl you release to the wind is shameful, loud enough that some of the murmuring coming from below pauses entirely, people presumably left confused, or maybe wondering where the show is taking place... You couldn't give less of crap about what's happening below, too busy arching in the gargoyle's mess of a nest and bucking your hips into his faces while he slurps at everything you have to give him. Pebble rumbles in excitement, though slips off your entrance far too quick for your liking, leaving you to pulse through some ripples of pleasure all empty.
The groan of displeasure you make at having a high cut short is interrupted by the monster's intense purring rumble as he uses both heads to nudge you onto your back on his now soaked nest, headbutting you insistently when you merely sway.
" Alright alright okay- " You acquiesce, hormone-drunk, without even thinking too hard about what he wants.
The moment your head rests on that mess of cloths and feathers, you yawn and stretch, laughing quietly when all the gargoyle does for a moment is observe your lying figure, tails wagging and cock throbbing. It's oddly adorable, as if he's wondering how he got a catch like you on his nest.
In a blink however, the male finally decides what to do, grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you closer. Alarm bells start ringing when he pushes your legs up, raising your ass off the nest and pushing them towards your upper body in a position that you worry might strain your back. " H-Hey now? " You call, offering the monster a gaze that implores his caution.
You realize the type of position he's going for when he squats above you, veiled faces peering down at your small frame above the stone hills that are his tits -He's massive and this view really accentuates it- A swollen red cock parked on your outer lips. You're not sure how much you trust this gargoyle not to harm you in this vulnerable position.
" L- Look at me. " You start, balling your dress up at your waist and keeping yourself as well balanced on the edge of his nest as you can. The monster tilts both heads, listening. " Be gentle, o-okay? Slow. Play nice. "
Slightly fearful hues dart between his glowing crimson eye and the length pulsing on your core. You don't think this stone being has the sadism necessary to pull a stunt like Morell, but you have to gouge him anyway. After a couple of tense seconds, Pebble chuffs and nods, wings flapping sporadically as he readjusts.
You get to see the muscles of thoses powerful legs tense when he lines the tip of his cock up and starts pushing, trembling as your pussy welcomes him with few stings of pain at the stretch, having already been thoroughly worked out for the day. Nonetheless, he's still quite girthy, each ridge bumping inside you with each quick little hump he makes to bury his whole cock inside your warmth. Well, most of it, that bulb at the root remains untouched. You can't help but think it'd be easier to take if it wasn't so swollen already.
Pebble makes garbled low cries from both heads at the sensation of being enveloped, squeezing at your legs to ground himself for a heaving moment. He glances down for a second, making sure you're okay it seems, gratified by your teary-eyed, needy expression. Each sweetly torturous drag of his length on your walls is experimental, but the male quickly finds his rhythm the wetter you get, having no issue holding his own weight as he begins to piston down.
Each thrust is deep. Pebble seems reluctant to remove most of his dick from the tight hole he's found, more intent on grinding and rutting desperately than going for deeper, more languid motions. And you can't blame the guy, he seems beyond excited to have anyone in his nest, probably too giddy to drag things out too.
Your earlier doubts considering the safety of this position fade away to nothing but bliss as you realize he's hitting a lot deeper than what's expected, his tip kissing wonderful spots that have your toes curling and brows furrowing, head tossed to let out clipped appreciation noises. Sure, it's a little harder to breathe, but fuck if it isn't worth it. Maybe the gargoyle knows exactly what he's doing, maybe he just enjoys the view. When droplets of his drool fall onto your cheek and neck, you presume it's a bit of both.
The monster's ragged panting turns to strained growls as he picks up the pace, now truly pistoning with the great power behind those taught legs, claws scraping the tiles of the roof for better purchase.
" O- Ohh fff- Ah! Deep! " Is the stellar commentary you have to offer, the gentle nudges of before becoming a relentless hammering of several bundles of nerves that have you twitching and blinking stupidly, lost in a barrage of sensation.
Between his occasional mewled groan, slapping and flapping wings, you can hear the repeated jingling of the dog tag on his collar, bouncing with each rut. It brings you out of the experience for a brief second, giving way for a faint level of awareness in which your sixth sense blares warning sirens. It takes a bit, but your skin breaks out in goosebumps when instincts tell you something's looming, watching.
Frantic eyes dart around, vision somewhat impaired by the blur of your form being jostled by Pebble's enthusiastic fucking, but there, on the wall that escalates into the top roof, is a tall window. From behind it stands a silent figure, witness to the debauchery happening far too close. Your already overheated body sets ablaze the second you recognize who it is. The cloaked guy from before, the one who found you alongside Grimbly. God damn it, he just has to be everywhere, doesn't he?
His head tilts, and you can tell he's somehow returning your eye contact intensely.
It's hard to imagine what must be going through his head, seeing you get tossed around between his coworkers like a free use toy -Which, let's face it, in the current state of things that is essentially what you've become- Only to end up sprawled out on the roof, being bred silly by a bizarre gargoyle. What does he think of you? It seemed like he wanted to take you away for himself earlier, maybe he's upset. Or maybe he's just really into the view. When Pebble bucks especially hard, you moan and flutter around him, making the monster speed his thrusts even more, bending over you slightly. A drawn-out sort of hum has strands of drool hanging dangerously close to your face again.
When you have the composure to search for the window again, still finding the voyeur there, the bump in his robes definitely doesn't go unnoticed. You hate that it only excites you further, that the pleasant shock of his presumed size is written all over your face. As if some part of your lower brain expects him to climb out the fucking window and shove himself in your mouth. You're depraved.
Sharp as he appears to be, the hooded figure knows exactly where you're looking with those glazed eyes, ash-colored fingers flirting with his own covered length before you. It's a promise. It's a filthy little lure- And if Pebble wasn't plowing you so good, you'd probably have crawled the roofs on your own for him.
Speaking of, he's getting a little too rough. Or maybe you're just sore and finally beginning to feel it all, it's hard to tell.
" Hahn- Slow down- Slow boy- Nnh fuck! "
He's not listening, even when you drag a hand up the gargoyle's hard abdomen, trying to ground the softly growling thing, all he does is lean into the touch and strain to fuck you deeper, probably taking the contact as encouragement. And, honestly, when the waves of a rapidly building orgasm start rocking you again, it's hard to care. Groping at the monster while he stretches you out is more gratifying. You're licking your lips in anticipation when the glow coming from his paper bag veil brightens and he seems to steam hot puffs of breath out, fanning the edges of the thin tissue.
Pebble isn't asking you for permission, but you nod at him anyway. He makes a strangled bray that quickly becomes a howl, and fucks down with a force that leaves you winded. There's a pause, and for a couple of vapid seconds, you don't quite grasp why he stopped moving, and why he isn't filling you yet. Then the pressure starts.
Your eyes bulge, and only now do you recall the shape stationed at his base, the thing he's now trying to push into you. Naturally, hormones and slight dread have you squirming under the monster, wondering if that's safe at all to take, but the gargoyle has an iron grip of your legs, giving out warning chuffs.
" Wait! Wait wait wait- PEBBLE! "
You scream to the skies as soon as soon as he forces the entire thing in with one devastating blow, popping that fat knot into your cunt mercilessly. The stimulation is so fast and so intense that your second orgasm hits you like a punch to the gut, rendering you a squealing, mewling mess around the other. Pebble makes his own desperate noises of approval, his entire girth seeming to pulse and throb inside you -Knot included- As what you can only describe as a torrent of cum washes your insides. He grinds himself aimlessly in the midst of both your highs, slowly, so as to not overstimulate himself.
As you lay there, legs twitching and heaving for breath, the gargoyle reaches a shaky arm out to pet you on the head soothingly. He looks aware that this is hard to handle for a human, wanting to reward you in some way or another. The fact that he seemingly keeps cumming should worry you, yet the arousal lingering within you welcomes everything he has to offer.
Predictably, when the frenzy of lust starts dying down and you both have recovered a fair amount, you look at your visibly swollen womb and pale a couple shades. Holy shit that's all him, that's way too much... He's not in heat, is he? You can feel it all pooling inside your body, a foreign weighted warmth. Comforting in an obscene way.
The exhaustion of being in this position for a prolonged amount of time starts getting to you in a couple of minutes, at which you tap Pebble's leg. He appears to get the message, but instead of pulling out, he whines and readjusts, letting you rest more of your body on the nest while he blankets your body. Much to your increasing surprise, Pebble extends his small wings and uses them to shield you from the world, resting his upper body onto you.
Is he... Is he just not going to pull out?
Given his massive weight, even if the monster's taking care not to crush his little nest mate, he's in no position to be dislodged. When his breathing slows, you grow alarmed. If the gargoyle decides to settle down and sleep now, how are you supposed to find your way back down, without severely injuring yourself that is?
" Hey. Hey now, Pebble. " He doesn't give much of a response beyond chuffing. " Pull out, please. " When there's no reaction, you assume he's blatantly ignoring you.
Annoyed, you actively start trying to squirm from beneath the gargoyle, though immediately, he makes a sharp cry of pain, the noise turning into a vicious snarl while he yanks you back into place, claws making it extremely clear you are not to move a single fucking millimeter. Alright, okay, message received.
Right. The knot... It's even more swollen inside of you now, plugging everything, there's no way you'll slip off it any time soon.
" Alright, o-okay okay! " Palms up seems to do the trick, placating him.
The gargoyle hums, veering his body slighlty to the side so as to not crush your ribcage when he settles down to rest. You groan, resigned to being trapped.
Time passes. As always, you can't be sure how much. It could be minutes, it could be hours. You can't sleep, not after falling unconscious several times. Instead, you stare at the sky, watching it get darker and darker, until the stars become visible behind the warp of the fog that seems to shroud this foreign establishment. Moving is a terrible idea. Even if your legs are going numb and you're the furthest thing from comfortable, the smallest shift might trigger another fit from him.
It's not your immediate safety that has you concerned about the events. After all, he's shielding you somewhat, and Pebble is significantly bigger than the other gargoyle you saw, so chances are you're much safer on this roof than you would be on the ground, where people have gathered. Of course, you're not exactly thrilled by the notion that your goal of making it out of here is getting delayed further, slipping out of your fingers the more you stall, like grains of sand.
Pebble sleeps, both heads snoring softly beside you, tails twitching, hips occasionally rutting. In a moment of blind hope, your head snaps up to search for the tall window from before, praying the hooded figure is still there. It's completely abandoned. Figures, that would be too easy.
Having nothing to do and no means to pass the time, you fantasize about what you would rather be doing, what you need to do as soon as you make it out of this blasted place -If you ever do, a small voice pipes up. What kind of therapy can help you get over this? Have you been changed forever? Would people believe you?
Is this real?
The sound of sudden loud flapping has you wide alert. Brought out of focus, you can't tell where or who it's coming from, so you cling to Pebble's back in fear. Perhaps it's another gargoyle, having come to pick at the scraps. Your scared whimper causes the male to stir awake as well, making disgruntled sounds when something lands not too far away.
A pallid white figure dressed in black.
It's only after a pause of vapid squinting that your brain registers who that is. The angel. Or, at least, that's the only thing you can think to compare him to. He's a mystery to you, only recalling vague instances of his demeanor, when the day was still young and you had been spit out onto the floor by a startled mimic.
He stands straight, a firm grip on his staff, three eyes scrutinizing the sight before him silently. Not that there's much complexity to it, you're being held captive in the nest of the gargoyle that happily bred you stupid. Now that you're getting a second look at the guy, the feathers on his wings are as white as the ones on Pebble's nest. They know each other? Well, if the two-headed monster isn't freaking out, you'll assume so.
He is tense however, it's hard not to sense that when he's glued to your front.
" For goodness' sake- " A lightly furred hand drags down his peculiarly shaped face. " This is where I find you, of all places? "
The fucking nerve of this dude.
It was either the gargoyle or the spiky-haired demon that looked more likely to use you as a human carpet than be remotely helpful. He's looking at you as if you decided to come here of your own volition, to get roped into a bunch of sexual escapades for funsies- Like it's a hobby of yours.
" ... Would you rather find me dead in your cook's kitchen? Torn to pieces in this garden? " Hiding the snark in your tone proves itself to be harder than expected.
He glares at you, a decidedly intense look that inspires a primal wave fear in your body. " Quiet. " The angel's attention shifts to your nest-partner. " Pebble. Release the woman. "
Pebble's only reaction is to stare at the other monster and clutch you closer to a sturdy body. Something about the red dot that comprises his eye reads as a warning.
The angel scoffs. " Don't be ridiculous, come now. We don't have time for this. "
When he steps forward, he's instantly greeted with a nasty, vicious rattle of a snarl that has you freezing for a long moment. Jesus fuck, so that's what he sounds like when he's actually angry.
The angel reels back, lavender eyes widened in shock and mild hurt, though humorously, his chest appears to puff in an instinctual response to the aggressive call. " Pebble?! What is the meaning of this! "
The gargoyle seems to cower for a second, but it can't escape the situation, and the squeezing you feel makes it clear he doesn't want to let go either.
" Release her. Now. " The staff is slammed onto the tiles, ringing. You can feel the atmosphere get really tense and you're not sure how much danger you're currently in either. Might as well try to de-escalate it.
" I- We... We're stuck. " You murmur. He's slightly deflated, giving your pussy a bit of relief, but not enough for his exit to be painless.
The other blinks, his posture slouches slightly, exasperation making him tug at a growth on the back of his head. " Krulu give me strength. "
Who?
" Pebble. I know you like the girl, she's a very pretty lesser, yes. " He starts, gentler in his approach. " But the girl is special, you know? We need her. U-Untangle yourself from her. "
Did... Did he just stutter when telling the gargoyle to pull out? Okay then.
Despite his efforts, the other male doesn't seem quite convinced, snort-growling intensely.
" You've forced my hand. "
The pale monster sighs, his wings rise high and open swiftly, a challenging display if you've ever seen one before. His eyes start glowing, the brightness causing your head to pound, an ear-splitting ringing forcing you to look away and instinctively shield your head. Pebble seems afflicted as well, peeling back from you as far as he can, still connected to you by the pelvis.
By the time you recover from whatever the fuck that horrifying thing was, you find yourself being held above the now lying gargoyle by a chalk-white arm coiled around your abdomen, another holding the sharpened edge of an axe down to Pebble's throats. The gargoyle's furious noises turn to quiet whimpers, he looks mortally frightened.
" Our lord is very disappointed in you. " The angel tuts. " Do not move. "
Next, he addresses you. " Brace as hard as you need to, but I must... Dislodge you two. "
Again with the hesitation. This monster's surrounded by sex and depravity, and yet he his language is so flowery. Regardless, you take his advice to heart, wondering who this "lord" is, while you inhale and wait.
The yank upwards has both you and Pebble keening in pain, the angel stuttering something incoherent and awkward behind you two before he tugs again, harder, and that red cock pops out of you with a miserable sting.
" Mother of FUCK- "
" Language, you depraved thing! " He squawks.
Said misery is followed by an incredible wave of relief as accumulated cum seeps out of you like an obscene cascade, coating the gargoyle's still hard length, making a mess of both of your thighs. Each oozing glob has you panting and shuddering in alleviation. Finally, the bump in your lower abdomen recedes, thank god.
It's clear the angel doesn't really know what to do with you in this state. In fact, when you glance at him, those three eyes are all laser focused on your gushing cunt, frozen there. Pebble breaks the awkward moment by batting the staff away and scrambling out from beneath you, soaked in his own cum, clumsily darting to the shadows. You can hear him take off to the ground while the remaining monster helps you stand straighter.
A terrible idea, as even more globs of cum drip down your legs. It's a shameful sensation, you can only clench to try and helplessly stop the flow.
" U- Unbelievable. Cover yourself, what a disgrace. " The angel fusses, sharply averting his gaze. You note, interestingly, that his fur seems to be fluffing further and further as this goes on. Flustered perhaps?
The moment your crumpled dress is rearranged, now but a mockery of what it once was, the angel slides his staff behind his back and holds you bridal style, the eyes on his head decidedly still looking away from your debauched state even as he takes flight and lands, a lot more smoothly than the gargoyle thakfully.
You'd ask how he did that without looking forward, but then recall the third eye on his chest, the one that is now staring back at you. You can't help but think it's beautiful, in a very inhuman, striking way.
As soon as you're on the ground, the small crowd of mostly demons starts heckling the angel, which, in hindsight, shouldn't really be a surprise. Raunchy comments about him wanting sloppy seconds and being just as pervy as the rest of them are swiftly ignored, anyone who gets too close is quickly swatted away by powerful wings.
A frown takes over your face when he carries you back inside that rotten shithole, though you had yet to see the entrance of the place. This breed between a lounge and a game room, several pool tables and whatnot spread around the large place. Though, sitting squarely in the middle is what must be the main attraction, a fancy, stylish looking bar with all manner of drinks advertised, many of which you don't recognize. But you do recognize the loosely shaped yellow figure operating it, the yellow slime. As if thinking about him is enough to summon his attention, a piercing red eye finds you with eerie precision, pinkish green widening as he waves.
Creepy fucker.
" Let- Let me down, please. " You try, not liking that you're being carried around to who knows where.
" No. You have trotted around enough today. It is time to put an end to this. " You don't like the sound of that, even less so when he gets into the elevator.
" But where are you taking me? "
He pushes a button and stands firmly, the two of you try to ignore the sound of cum droplets hitting the ground. You're sure you've been making a little trail this whole time.
" To a spare room. "
Again?! How many times will you land on one of those? What for? Is that supposed to be your waiting room before another sickfuck comes to fetch the human for their own entertainment? Or is he just going to lock you in a random room for the rest of the night?
Sure enough, when the elevator doors part, you recognize the long hall of doors as the same one the incubus lead you to. He opens one of the nearest doors in a rush, fast enough that you couldn't catch the number, and deposits you carelessly on the bed.
It's a much less lavish room than Santi's. Barren almost. All dark minimalist tones you don't care for. You hold onto the purple sheets and pull yourself up, ready to try to plead with the winged monster when he makes a b-line for the door again.
" Wait! Don't just- "
He interrupts you, sharply turning around. " You are to stay here and behave until lady Admin comes to collect you, am I understood? "
Although his tone is serious, and you recall hearing the name "Admin" somewhere already since the start of this mess, your stare drops to the outline of his hardness and you can't take him seriously anymore. Given how tight to the skin his outfit is, not a lot is left to the imagination, giving away a flat-headed shape and decent proportions. Is he even aware of his own state? As a matter of fact, his fur is still fluffed. Seeing the results of you getting busy with Pebble was enough to put him in that state?
" ... You're hard. "
The angel blinks several times, glancing down at himself, meeting his own neglected dick. You nearly cackle at the dumbfounded look he offers it, as if questioning why it exists. At the smallest hint of your quiet snickering, large wings fan themselves to cover his front. He recovers quickly, you'll give him that.
" Nonsense lesser, don't be disgusting. Stay absolutely still, I will come back. "
He intended to look irritated, but the way he struggles with the door knob and scurries out the room betrays great shame. The door shuts and there's a distinct click. You curse out loud.
Bastard locked it.
Fuck... What do you do now?
Well, you can't just stay still like a sitting duck, waiting to possibly die. You only have a few cards left to play here, which means the stakes are higher this time. Either you bet on trying to find a way out of this room, or you have to disorient the angel somehow.
On the one hand, this entire location is bizarre. It definitely doesn't obey the logic and laws of reality as you know it, if the garden's structure is any indication. So chances are that, maybe, you can find something here that'll help you break out of the room, somehow. A loophole.
On the other, that angel... He's already flustered and feeling awkward, maybe if you push the right buttons, you can get him to lead you somewhere else, can trick him. Maybe he's your ticket out.
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vodika-vibes · 5 months ago
Note
Congrats on another follower event!!! Could I please request and Crosshair x GN! Reader Beauty and the Beast AU?
Not A Monster
Summary: Your father was a monster, his death was the best thing that ever happened to the stretch of land your family ruled. As it happened, though, the people your family was responsible for decided that they were done with your family as a whole. You’re not sure that you deserved to be cursed for your family’s crimes, though.
Pairing: Pre-Crosshair x GN!Reader
Word Count: 2018
Prompt: Beauty and the Beast AU
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: So I kind of really love this idea, but I didn't want it to be too long, so I stopped after they meet. I hope you like it!
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You were about five years old when the curse took hold of your family and the people who worked for your family. Too young for you to understand why your father was a bad man.
Too young to understand what was happening to you.
Honestly, you don’t remember your father at all. Outside of some vague memories of a deep voice and a massive red beard. And you barely remember your mother. You have some vague recollection of a soft voice singing a lullaby but that’s it.
You haven’t seen your mother since the curse took hold.
According to the employees, your mother has confined herself to her tower and refuses to come out until the curse is broken. You wonder how she expects the curse to break if she’s hiding away, but when you voice that to your nanny, you get swatted and shushed.
You have caught a glimpse of your mother’s new form, though no one knows that except you. Easily the size of a bear, with some kind of black ooze that drips from her body, claws the length of a small child, and acid dripping from a mouthful of fangs.
Her appearance triggered some kind of instinctual terror inside you, and you haven’t tried to even speak to her in a couple of years.
You’re lucky that your new appearance isn’t half as monstrous.
Oh, you’re clearly something other than human. Your skin, hair, and horns are the color of ash, you have a long prehensile tail that you use to hang from the rafters when you want to play. Your hands and feet have sharp, strong, claws that allow you to climb effortlessly. Your eyes are a luminous yellow, allowing you to see very well at night, but you’re practically blind during the daylight hours.
You’re also a bit small, standing at your full height you’re almost 5 feet tall. According to the manor doctor (who was turned into a bull), tells you that you should be at least 7 inches taller, based on your mother and father, so your height has to be a side effect of the curse.
Your nanny, who was changed to look like a sheepdog due to the curse, tells you that you look like a little imp.
The chef, who somehow turned into over two dozen mice, likes to say that you’re lucky that you’re still mostly bipedal. 
The gardener has turned into a large polar bear, so you spend much time helping him in the garden. Your claws appear to have been designed for climbing rather than digging, but you’re good enough at it that you haven’t been shooed away.
But, in full honesty, you look almost human. Human enough that, with long enough robes and head coverings, and with the able guidance of your nanny, you’re able to go down to the market and buy food for the people who live in the manor.
So far as the people in town are aware, you’re nearly blind and have a skin condition that is made worse by exposure to sunlight. And, for the most part, people are accepting of it. They avert their eyes, and chide their children if they stare too long, and leave you and nanny alone to do your shopping.
In the, almost, 100 years since your family was cursed, you’ve watched the small town grow into an active, and bustling city. Your full body covering is no longer seen as something strange, as several religious women in town dress very similarly to you.
Of course, this leads people to believe that you’re also a religious woman. Luckily, you don’t care enough to correct them of their confusion. If people want to think that you’re religious, and if that belief causes them to not question you too much, you’re happy to let them have their beliefs.
On this particular shopping day, it’s bright and hot. You’re barely able to see when it’s sunny outside as it is, but today it’s just miserable. And not only because it’s bright enough that it hurts.
But also because it’s hot enough that your robe is sticking to your skin.
“This is the worst day ever, Nan.” You announce to the panting sheepdog lying in the fountain next to you.
I did tell you we should have come yesterday. Nan replies as she rolls around in the cool water, It’s only going to get hotter as the day goes on. We should hurry.
“You smell like a wet dog.”
I am a wet dog. What’s your excuse?
You huff out a laugh and open your notebook that carries the list of everything that you need to buy for the next week. You’re unable to read what is written on the page, stupid sun, but the librarian made sure that the list was also written in braille.
You slide your finger across the raised letters, swiftly reading the list.
It’s a standard list, there’s nothing there that isn’t normal.
Good, it means that you don’t have to deal with anyone new. “Come on, Nan. Let’s get this done and go home.” You stand from where you were sitting on the edge of the fountain and walk several feet away.
You hear Nan jump out of the water, and then there are squeals of laughter from a handful of children as she shakes the water out of her fur. She hurries to your side and you lightly grab the harness as she presses her wet body against your leg.
“Awful,”
Suck it up. Grocery store?
“Grocery store.” You agree, allowing the large dog to guide you through the busy streets to the store.
It takes you and Nan several hours to finish your shopping, and the shopkeepers are nice enough to load up your cart for you while you run through the list to make sure that you’re not missing anything.
Once you’re sure that you didn’t miss anything, you clamber up on the cart and are about to give the order to the horse (who is actually the steward of the manor) to bring you and Nan home, when someone stops next to the cart.
“Excuse me,”
You turn and squint at the man speaking to you, you’re pretty sure he has silver hair, but that’s about the only detail you can make out, “Yes?”
“I’m looking for an inn or someplace like that.” He says, “Can you point me in the right way?”
“The only Inn was the Starlight Inn…but it burned down two months ago. Got struck by lightning.”
He’s quiet for a moment, “Please tell me you’re joking,”
“Fraid not. It’s still being rebuilt. But we had a wet spring, and it’s slowed work.”
“So there’s nowhere to stay?”
“You can reach out to the church?” You offer, “Or…” You hesitate, “Never mind. The church is probably your best bet.”
“You sounded like you were going to give a second option,” The man says.
“Well, my place has plenty of free space, but,” You shrug, “You’re not going to want to stay there.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ll take ‘it’s complicated’ over a church any day of the week.” The man replies dryly.
You tilt your head and stare at him for a long moment, and then you nod, “Alright. Hop up.” You motion for Nan to hop into the back of the cart, which she does with a huff, and the man settles on the bench next to you. Then, with a smile he can’t see, you introduce yourself.
“Crosshair,” He replies, “Are you able to actually steer this thing?”
“No need. Jace, we’re going home.” You call to the stallion, who releases a noise and starts on the path home. You don’t even bother to pick up the reins, and instead lean back against the cart.
It takes about 30 minutes for the cart to turn down the gravel, and heavily shaded, path that leads back to the manor, and it’s about that time that Nan pops up from the back. You should warn him.
You hum your agreement, and sit up, “So, about the it’s complicated.” You say as you get your first proper look at him. Dark skin, dark eyes, silver hair, and a crosshair tattooed around one of his eyes. He’s handsome, you think absently.
“Yeah?”
“About 100 years ago, my father was cursed.” You explain, “Unfortunately, he had the poor manners to die before the curse set in fully, so all of the people who lived in his home were cursed instead, including myself, my mother, and our employees.”
“Cursed?”
“Yeah,” You tug your hood off, and blink at him, “See.”
Crosshair stares at you, his gaze lingering on your grey skin, and then sliding up to your horns (they’re not very long, kind of stubby, actually). “Huh.”
That…was not the reaction you were expecting.
“I even have a tail,” You offer helpfully.
Crosshair’s gaze focuses back on your eyes, “I bet you don’t see during the day very well.”
At his comment, you cross your arms and pout, “No. But my night vision is unmatched. And I can climb better than anyone, and can hang from my tail.”
“You almost look like a gargoyle.” 
Your jaw drops, and you puff up to your full height, which isn’t a lot, “I am not a gargoyle!”
“I didn’t say that you were, just that you looked like one.” He has a small smirk on his lips, “Anyway, does everyone else look like you, imp?”
You glare at him, “No. The employees were turned into animals,” At that you point to Nan, “She was my nanny, and he,” You point at the stallion, “Is the manor’s steward. Our chef turned into 24 mice.”
“Ah, and your mother?”
“Ah, well,” You shiver, even under the heat of the day, “Mother looks like a monster. But you won’t have to worry about that. Mother never leaves her tower.”
The cart comes to a stop in front of the manor, and you hop off the bench. You squirm and shimmy out of the robes, leaving you clad in the tank top and biking shorts that you much prefer (because you can cut a tail hole in them without ruining the stability of the shorts) and you swiftly unhook Jace from the cart.
Crosshair stares at you for a moment, “You don’t look like a monster, imp.” He says as he climbs down, grabs a handful of bags, and then, bemusedly, gives them to Jace. “In fact, you’re kind of cute.”
You blink at him, stunned, and then clamp your hands over your burning face, “You can’t just say things like that!”
“Why not? It’s true.” His smirk widens when he sees just how flustered you are, “Don’t tell me no one’s told you that you’re cute before?”
“Of course not! No one’s seen me since I was human!”
“Well then, lucky me. I get you all to myself.”
You stare at him, genuinely at a loss for words, and Crosshair winks at you, and grabs another bag, “Where am I bringing this?”
Nan, having decided that Crosshair needs to stay, bounds over to him. Follow me, young man. I’ll show you to the kitchen and then your room.
Crosshair blinks at her, and then nods, “Alright. Thank you, Nan.”
Jace chortles from where you’re loading him up with bags, Well now, He says, If that’s not a chance to break the curse, then I don’t know what is.
Your face heats, “Hush, you. You’re putting the cart before the horse. For all you know, he’ll only stay for a couple of nights, and then he’ll move on.”
Is there any harm in hoping, boss? Jace asks as he nudges you with his nose, I know we told you that hoping was foolish…but that was wrong of us.
You sigh and shake your head, “Come on, Jace. Let’s get everything inside.”
As you follow Jace into the kitchen you see Crosshair talking to Chef, and you can’t help the small smile that crosses your face.
Maybe, just maybe, a little hope wouldn’t be too bad.
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relevant-url-incoming · 10 months ago
Text
There were a lot of things Corso might have imagined about the first time he got hurt bad, working with the captain. Figured he’d say something like that it served Corso right, maybe that he should have known better than to chase after the captain like a lost pup – but that wasn’t how it happened. It happened like this:
They went around a corner prepared for Imps, and got a Sith. Corso barely had time to register the agonising heat in his gut before he was sprawled on the ground as the captain danced around the Sith’s increasingly frustrated lightsabre strikes. Had the captain shoved him? Corso had thought he was all height, no muscle. He tried to sit up, to pull his blaster, to help, but all he could do was cry out in pain as the world whited out. When his vision came back the Sith was dead, a smoking hole between his eyes, and the captain was at his side.
“Risha,” the captain called grimly over comms. “Get your ass out here.”
He tugged Corso’s shirt off the lightsabre wound, pulling kolto from his pack as he did. Carefully, the captain smoothed kolto over the wound, unflinching as Corso hissed in pain. Whatever Risha said to him, it didn’t make him happy.
“I don’t give a damn,” the captain said. “We’ll come back later. There were Sith here. We need a new plan anyway.”
Corso frowned – this job was important – but the captain fixed him with a cutting glare before he had a chance to do more than open his mouth.
“This is only going to dull the pain,” the captain said as the burning sensation faded slightly. “I’m going to pick you up. It’ll hurt. Don’t shout.”
Corso tensed, half expecting to be thrown over the captain’s shoulder like a sack of vegetables, but the captain’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he eased his arms around Corso, carrying him like a bride. Corso blinked, then shook the metaphor from his mind.
It did hurt, every couple steps jarring his wound, but Corso had an easy time of it. He could occupy himself with trying to figure the captain out, like always. He looked grim and angry. Captain always did. But this time he wasn’t angry at Corso. His grip was still almost tender around Corso.
Corso had figured the captain’s variety of battlefield medicines were mostly for his own benefit. Guy got into a lot of scrapes, after all, and didn’t make many friends.
But this – this was something else.
Risha met them about halfway to the spaceport on a stolen speeder. The captain bundled Corso into the backseat, strapping him in carefully without a word to Risha. As he slid into the seat next to her, Risha glanced over her shoulder at Corso.
“That doesn’t look pretty,” she said. “I’m sure your farmboy will survive, though.”
“Drive,” the captain hissed. If either of them said anything after that, Corso didn’t know what it was. He passed out as the speeder took off.
He woke to someone’s gloved hands on his bare skin. He groaned, lifting his head just in time to see the captain step back sharply like he was afraid of Corso knowing who’d cared for his wound.
“Aw,” Corso couldn’t resist saying. “You really do care, huh, captain?”
The captain smiled for a split second before scowling.
“Don’t get yourself stabbed again,” he said. “I don’t have the time or the patience to train a new sidekick.”
Corso laughed, then winced. The captain frowned and took a step forward, but Corso waved him off.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t make you look after me too much longer. Be back up on my feet soon.”
“No, you won’t. I’m the expert here, and you’re off your feet for two days at least.”
Corso choked back another laugh. Who’d have thought the undernourished jerk with the itchy trigger finger was so nice to invalids? Then again, Corso should have. He’d seen the number of times the captain went out of his way to help someone without even pretending to put up a fight.
“Well, thanks for the save at least,” he said.
“Hey, what am I gonna do? Drag Risha out of the cargo hold?”
“She came out when you called,” Corso said. “Bet that’s got you feeling something.”
“Yeah,” the captain said. “Pissed she couldn’t do it before you got sliced up.” He wrinkled his nose, looking annoyed for a second, then pulled his gloves off and squeezed Corso’s shoulder gently. “Rest up,” he said. “We’ll be back in no time. Enjoy the break while you have it, Corso.”
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clevermird · 1 year ago
Text
Title: The Road to Coruscant
Prompt: Allies @shortfictionweeklychallenge
Rating: Teen
Characters: Feyte Saien (female Jedi Consular), Mallena Dayne, (female Republic Trooper), Eyrie Lancaster (female Jedi Knight), Jessasi Silver (female Smuggler), Aric Jorgan, Corso Riggs, T7-01, Qyzen Fess
Pairing(s): None
Four young women find themselves on a ship bound for Courscant. Each brings their own companion, their own mission, and their own past, but when the Sith Empire attacks their ship, they find themselves in an alliance, and their biggest problem isn't what they'll do when they reach their destination, but if they're going to reach it at all!  
Now that Ironfist is dead, it's time to take the fight directly to the Imperials - and boy howdy, does Jessasi have thoughts about that!
Text under cut
Jessasi stood up from behind the console she’d been using for cover and shoved her blasters into their holsters. Having a couple of Jedi on your side sure came in handy. Everyone had been so busy shooting at them that they hadn’t even noticed her.
She had to admit, though, Ironfist had been tough. Normally a couple blaster bolts to the chest stopped a guy in his tracks, but it hadn’t seemed to faze him. She wondered what his armor was made of. Maybe she should get herself some of it.
Corso came over to her, hand over one ear. “Those missiles sure are loud, aren’t they, Captain?”
She grinned. “Not hurt, then?”
He shook his head, dreadlocks swinging. “Are you?”
“Not a scratch. Come on, they’re starting without us.” 
The rest of the group had clustered around First Officer Hakin, who was busy thanking them profusely for saving him. The Mirialan Jedi, who Jessasi had come to think of as “the nice one”, smiled. “Don’t mention it.” The other Jedi, the serious one, looked uncomfortable.
Ambassador Asara reappeared, leading Commander Narlok. “We’re not safe yet, though. The Imperials still have us in our tractor beam. We can’t go anywhere until it’s disabled.”
“Short of destroying their ship, the only way to ensure that a tractor beam is disabled is to shut it down from the source,” said Lieutenant Dayne. Jessasi thought she looked a bit young to be an officer, probably early twenties. By human standards, she was probably pretty plain, although not necessarily ugly: about average height, but mostly arms and legs, with washed-out blue eyes and oddly dark eyebrows, one of which was broken by a scar that started at her hairline and ended just below her cheekbone. The only thing that she really had going for her was her hair, which was thick and honey colored and probably real long if she wore it down.
Hakin shook his head. “We can’t destroy their ship. They’d blow us up the moment we started firing. I hate to ask after all you’ve done, but – “
“We’ll do it,” said the serious Jedi.
“Woah, woah, woah, who’s ‘we’?” Jessasi cut in. She was not about to march onto an Imperial ship.
“Myself, T7, and I believe that Feyte and Qyzen will come too. You’re not obligated to join us.”
Jessasi crossed her arms. She certainly hoped not.
Lieutenant Dayne exchanged glances with her Cathar buddy. “We’re going too.”
Corso was looking at her expectantly. Great, now I feel guilty. “It’s not like I’m saying I won’t go! I just didn’t want you volunteering me for something that’ll probably get us all killed. But nope, I’m perfectly fine with coming. Don’t mind me.”
The serious Jedi turned back to Commander Narlok. “How soon can your team be ready?”
“I’ll assemble them right away.”
“Why don’t you take the ambassador with you?” said Hakin. “I’m sure she knows a great deal about the interior of Imperial ships.”
Asara nodded. “I can show you where you need to go.”
“Why don’t you put on a spare uniform, first?” said Narlok. “We don’t want the Imps to recognize you.”
The pair left. Hakin watched them go, then turned back to their group. “Thank you so much for doing this. I don’t know if anyone else on board would have a chance.”
Glancing around, he dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I heard what Asara tried to make you do back there. Thank you for standing up to her.”
“She panicked,” said the nice Jedi. “I’m sure she didn’t truly want to bring harm to your men.”
“Regardless, I think we all know what has to be done.”
“Then why don’t you just say it?” Jessasi did not like where this conversation was heading.
“Look, the only way to get the Imperials to leave us alone is to give them what they want. So I want you to leave the ambassador behind on the Imperial ship.”
She felt her mouth drop open. “What?!”
“They won’t stop chasing us until they have her and I have to think about everyone else on this ship. We both know she deserves it.”
“Whatever you think about what she did, we still can’t abandon her to the Empire,” said the nice Jedi. “That would be just as great a wrong as sacrificing the engineers.”
“And beyond that, it doesn’t make tactical sense!” burst out Lieutenant Dayne, maybe a bit louder than she should have. “Do you know how many Republic secrets ambassadors like her know? Are you willing to bet the entire war on hoping she can resist an interrogation when she knows her own people sold her out?”
Hakin glared at her. “All I’m asking is for you to think about it.”
“We will,” said Jessasi. “While we’re headed to the airlock to space it.” She’d known there was a reason she hadn’t liked him. Turning on her heel, she walked toward the elevator. Hopefully someone else was going to follow her, because she had no idea where the hanger they were supposed to be going to was and it would look pretty stupid if she had to go back to ask for directions.
Fortunately, the rest of the group was just behind her and the Cathar put in the elevator directions. They raced downward and came out into a hanger bay with a shuttle in the center. A dozen troopers met them and Jessasi and Corso found seats in the front, squeezed in between two of the soldiers.
As the shuttle took off, Commander Narlok started to outline his plan. Jessasi started to tune him out at some point, but she gathered that they were going to split into two groups. One would go to disable the tractor beam, while the other would create a diversion somewhere else on the ship. She was going with the first group and that was all she needed to know.
Leaning back in her seat, she wondered what it would have been like if she had joined the army when she had graduated instead of getting into smuggling. Her parents would probably have reacted a little better, and she wouldn’t have had to deal with that schutta Skavik, either. But it sure wouldn’t have been as much fun.
The shuttle slid into the hanger bay just ahead of the bay doors shutting. Commander Narlok immediately started shouting orders to his men. No, Jessasi decided. Smuggling is definitely more fun.
As they jogged toward the door to the rest of the ship, it burst open and Imperial troops spilled into the hanger. Pulling out her guns, Jessasi fired and three of them fell. She kept running and Narlok’s soldiers took care of the rest of them.
Serious Jedi signaled and Jessasi and Corso peeled of from the main group with the rest of the team headed for the tractor beam. The Imps seemed to be ignoring them, and she didn’t blame them. Narlok’s group was making a huge ruckus, shouting and tossing grenades in addition to mowing down everyone who came their way.
Following Asara’s map, they boarded an elevator, which plunged downward fast enough to overwhelm the inertial compensators and tug at Jessasi’s stomach. It lurched to a stop and spilled them into a dark, gloomy room lined with banks of consoles. Does the Empire not believe in lighting or something?
The room was full of people, but most of them looked like techs and the few who had blasters barely seemed to know how to fire them. It didn’t take long to kill the ones who wouldn’t back down and herd the rest into a corner, where Lieutenant Dayne and the Cathar stood guard over them. Everyone else climbed the ramp to the largest console.
The little astromech droid extended some sort of probe and shoved it into a data port and after a moment, it started making a series of beeps and whirring noises. “What the hell is he saying?” said Jessasi.
Serious Jedi turned in her direction. “He’s shut down as much of the tractor beam as he can from here, but we’ll have to do the rest at the site itself.”
For someone who apparently doesn’t have any eyes, it sure does look like she’s looking directly at you. Something flashed in the corner of Jessasi’s vision and she turned around. “Oh, look, it’s the Imperial guy from before! The ugly one.”
He ignored her. “It’s really rather impressive that you’ve made it this far, but I’m here to tell you that it won’t last. I’m sending my best troops to your location, with orders to spare your lives if you surrender. I recommend you take them up on the offer.”
Serious Jedi looked like she wanted to say something, but Jessasi beat her to it. “Recommend whatever you want, we’re not surrendering!”
“Very well, then. I suppose I’ll have to destroy you. Too bad, really, I was looking forward to talking to you.” The hologram disappeared.
“Oh dear, whatever shall he do?” muttered Jessasi and had the satisfaction of hearing Corso chuckle.
“Let’s go!” shouted Serious Jedi, already halfway down the ramp.
“What about them, m’am?” said the Cathar from the corner.
“Does your gun have a stun setting?”
“Mine does,” the Lieutenant said.
“Use it.” Serious Jedi took off, moving surprisingly quickly for someone of her unimpressive height. Everyone else followed her and Jessasi heard shots behind them. A few minutes later, the two troopers caught up.
Whatever Hakin’s motivations for sending Asara with them, she was certainly useful. Jessasi didn’t think they would have ever found the tractor beam chamber without the map she had given them. Finally, they emerged from a series of hallways and control rooms – does all this stuff even do anything? Jessasi found herself wondering – and saw the tractor beam.
It was pretty impressive: a platform with some sort of glowing beam thing in the center and a console in front of it, all suspended over a giant pit. A stream of guards and droids raced toward them and died in a flurry of blaster bolts and lightsaber beams.  
Jessasi looked up from finishing off a boxy droid that had clumsily tried to take a swing at one of her lekku to see a massive tank-style droid standing in front of the console. “That’s a really big droid,” she muttered.
“And it’s in our way,” the Lieutenant said. “Let’s destroy it.”
“On my signal,” Serious Jedi said softly. “One, two, three.” She leapt to the droid, which tracked her progress with blaster fire. Landing in front of it, she sliced off one of its legs as the rest of the group opened fire or charged into the fight.
Jessasi dove behind a box and started firing. Man, this thing is even tougher than Ironfist. It let out some kind of pulse and the people near it fell backwards. Already near the edge, Serious Jedi lost her balance and toppled off the side of the platform. Nice Jedi shouted in alarm and ran to her.
Ducking behind her cover again, Jessasi took a deep breath and considered. She didn’t want to waste any more time here. More Imps would probably be showing up soon. The droid didn’t even really matter, as long as the console was off. The console. . .
“Corso, come with me!” she shouted, sprinting away from the fight.
“What is it?” he said as he caught up with her.
“Just follow me.”
“We’re not running away, are we, Captain?”
“’course not. We’re winning.”
Like she had suspected, there was another access to the platform on the opposite side of the room. They slipped up it and crawled to the control panel. “Are you sure this is going to work?” said Corso.
Jessasi shushed him. The back of the console was easy enough to pull off, but there she got stuck. What was all this stuff for? And which one had enough juice to get the job done? Well, she’d just have to go with it.
She tugged on a red-insulated wire. When it came loose, she handed it gingerly to Corso. “See if you can short out the droid’s circuits with this,” she said, trying to be heard over the sounds of battle.
He jumped up and dragged the wire over to the droid. It took a few minutes of jerking and dancing to get close enough, but finally, he managed to touch the bare end of the wire to its plating.
Nothing happened.
“Firfek,” Jessasi muttered under her breath. “Try this one!” Maybe the white-insulated wire has more power?
Again, no reaction. “It’s still not working! Captain, are you sure you should – “
“Try this one!” This had to work, it just had to. The droid had noticed her, it was turning, rotating its turrets. In desperation, she flung the latest wire at Corso. The droid paused, then crumpled slightly as blue lightning arced over it, frying its circuits. The light faded from its photoreceptors and it made a sort of weak grinding sound.
Jessasi jumped up, high-fiving Corso. “We did it!” she shouted.
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helluvaflames · 1 month ago
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There was a roll of his eyes knowing it was going to be a bad idea to show Valentino. He was only going to judge him for who he wanted to date. Although, Asmodeus didn't really care about the social statuses as much as he used too. So, him dating an imp wasn't as farfetched as it may have used to be.
"Can you maybe not? This was exactly why I wasn't going to show you." Asmodeus states. Letting out a low growl as he puts his phone away after receiving it back from Valentino. Fizz was perfect in every possible way and Valentino was not going to put him down. "Pretty sure, he likes it that way."
"You've been involved with a sinner, so you can't really say much." Asmodeus explains. Referring to Angel Dust and knowing that relationship.
He's crossing his arms over his chest at his ex. "What's with you and judging him just based on his height?"
There was still no way the other was going to know exactly which imp he was currently seeing at the moment. Valentino would have to figure that part out on his own. If he ever did.
Oh yeah, Vox. He wasn't sure if handsome was really the right word for him exactly. In fact he wasn't sure how that relationship even worked if he were honest.
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"Don't know how you all even kiss when he's just a screen." Asmodeus said with a simple shrug of his shoulders. It was definitely something that he was curious about.
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Valentino's eyes widened as he leaned over Ozzie's shoulder to look at the phone. He was lucky he had control over himself (and hadn't just taken a swig of anything) because he would have surely spat out whatever had been in his mouth at the sight of that.
"¡Ay! An imp?" he blurted, making to snatch the device out of the sin's hands. The boyfriend's head was covered, but Val could tell that it was an imp by the body... which looked familiar for some reason, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Oh, well. It would come to him later. "Are you pranking, man?" the pimp demanded, "You're gonna snap that fucker in half!"
He had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing-- and then laughed anyway.
"I meaaaan... I guess there's a kink for that...? Just be careful." The moth giggled. "Oh my gosh, he's like zero feet tall."
Valentino returned Ozzie's phone to its rightful owner (surprisingly), and then just stood back, shaking his head and smiling to himself. Oh, what a time. He'd certainly be telling the Vees all about this later.
And, speaking of the Vees... Ozzie thought he had nobody, did he?
Valentino laughed again, this time more accusingly, somehow. He shook his head, too-- dumbfounded, disappointed. A little bit irritated.
Maybe that was the type of thing Asmodeus wanted to see from him. Val promptly stifled any further feelings of frustration (visibly, at least)— he could NOT let Ozzie have this. He had to be calm, collected, in control.
And smug as hell.
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"Are you forgetting something...?" the moth demon teased, arms crossed, voice almost songlike. "Handsome Mr. CEO, the big V-O-X?"
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love-minor-poltergeist · 2 years ago
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Hello!! I just wanted to say that I love your writing 😭😭 if you're still taking requests (your bio and pinned post said different things, I'm very sorry if they're closed!) could I humbly request fluff hcs for King Dice and a cupid type of reader, so it's a more forbidden love with the whole demon/angel pairing? Thank you for taking the time to read this!
A/N: Hough… this was a really fun prompt to work with! Sorry for the wait, Anon! I hope that you enjoy this batch, and if not, don’t feel free to shoot me a message if you’d ever want me to redo it! (; ω ; )
Also, I wasn’t particularly sure if you were going for the shorter/cherub-sized cupid variety, so I sprinkled in a few hcs that included that variety! Again, just shoot me a message if you want me to change anything!
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                                             ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶
                         “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, angelface?”
                                              ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶
King Dice x Cupid! Reader: 
King Dice wasn’t one to believe in fate. Nor did he consider himself a religious man. The irony that a sinner like him managed to net someone as sweet as you– a literal angel– is not at all lost on him. 
Given the Devil’s disdain for Heaven and its residents, King Dice takes great care to make sure your relationship remains a secret from him. While you can never visit him at work, King Dice sneaks out to visit you whenever he can. 
The two of you often meet up in the streets of Inkwell Isle III! He’ll often take you out to café dates or visit the theater house! 
Since he's unable to see you in person as much as he wants to, King Dice makes up for his absence with letters. He'll pay top dollar to ensure his letters arrive safely and discreetly in an unmarked envelope; the wax seal bearing the sign of a crown and the paper holding the faint scent of cologne serving as his calling card.
Said letters are filled with a variety of contents. Some filled with the mundane such as his daily life and plans for the casino. Others filled with a tinge of melancholy as he laments as he can't see you as much. Most of them, however, never forget how grateful he is to have you.
Though Dice would tout himself as a man above such cliches, he has a plethora of angel-related pet names for you: dove, angelcake, cherub, etc. A few others he uses, though a bit more rare, are cheri and mon ange. It’s been a long time since he spoke any creole, but he’ll slip into it when he’s feeling particularly affectionate. Luckily for you, you have a knack for drawing out the sweeter side of him~
Speaking of, you’re probably one of the few people on Inkwell who can draw out a nicer side to Dice. His line of work never allowed for such behavior– lest you want to be taken advantage of.  With you, Dice didn’t feel the need to be on edge; he feels completely safe around you. 
In all of his years of servitude beneath the Devil, King Dice developed an aversion to most flying things. You have to thank the imps for that one, by the way. Their erratic, rowdy behavior was already bad enough. Couple this with their sudden dive bombs and frantic movements, it’s enough to activate his flight or fight response.
However, he can make an exception for you. There’s a delicate air to your wings, the feathers downy soft and small like a baby bird; a far cry from the leathery, vein-filled membrane he’s used to seeing.  It’s enough to stoke the urge to run a finger along the ivory arch of them– if you’d let him that is. 
Please try to take him under your wing– literally. He finds it adorable when you try to keep him cool and comfort him by wrapping your wings around him~
If you’re small and short like the imps of hell, chances are King Dice will consistently tease you for it. He’ll scoop you up and carry you around, even if you shriek in protest; he’ll jokingly offer to dress you up like a porcelain doll; he’ll even call you “baby bird” since you’re so small. 
The height difference is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, King Dice can’t help but feel protective over your smaller stature– not to mention it’s hilarious getting to use you as an elbow rest. On the other hand, it’s a lot harder to kiss you… 
Guess he’ll just have to pick you up~
If you ever want to try and get your way, just bat those baby-doll eyes of yours. King Dice can’t resist and he’s quick to cave. You’re lucky you’re too cute for him to say no. 
                                              ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶
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epickendall · 3 years ago
Text
Halfa Demon?
People can have interesting jobs, from doctors to lawyers to middle school teachers. Having a job has its ups and downs depending on who you were asking. There are some jobs people wouldn't think or sound far-fetched. But one teenage boy's new job is going to change his entire life for better or for worse.
On a warm day in hell at an office building, a new start-up company named "I.M.P.," the founder/boss is having a meeting with his employees in the conference room. The boss who goes by the name Blitzo (which the 'o' is silent, by the way) stands in front of a conference table.
"Alright now you guys wonder why I gathered you all here?" said Blitzo
Blitzo weapon specialist imp Moxxie raised his hand and said, "Not really sir."
"Moxxie don't be fucking party pooper."
Moxxie rolls his eyes as his coworker/wife Millie answers Blitzo's question, "It's Danny's first day on the field."
"That's right , Millie. Danny, how are you feeling?"
Everyone turns to the imp to the middle right of the conference table to the new I.M.P. employee. He was a medium-height imp. He had snow-white hair, red skin, yellow sclera, blue iris, black horns, and a long sharp tail. The imp wore a white jacket, black collar shirt, red tie, black pants, and black boots.
The new employee said to Blitzo in a sarcastic tone, "ecstatic boss."
"Ah don't be that way Danny you might pop your killing boner like Moxxie a month ago expect hopefully it wouldn't fuck up the job." Blitzo turning to Moxxie
"I say I was sorry."
"Whatever."
"I'm still not comfortable with killing anyone even if they do deserve it," said Danny
"Oh boohoo I'll play the world smallest fucking violin," Danny turns to his boss's daughter and hellhound Loona. "Danny this is hell you better get used to it since you're now working here."
"Yeah, I know Loona."
"Besides Danny. At least you know how defend yourself both in and out of hell," said Millie
"I guess."
"Alright with this side conversation we got shit today." said Blitzo
"You got a client sir?" said Moxxie
"Yep and this one is going to be fun."
"Who's the target?" said Millie
"Well the target is this Beverly hill bimbo who killed the client with a steak knife and then stole her grand fashion whatever artsy shit."
"Do you have a plan this time?" said Moxxie
"I sure do Moxxie."
"Really," said Loona, who sounded surprised
"Yeah it's like stealing candy from a dumbass baby. See all we have to do is place a remote bomb onto the bimbo piss color sport car and blow that shit up once she gets in."
"That could actually work." said Moxxie
"Of course it will work. I got the genius mind while you got a limp dick over there."
Loona laughs
"Don't listen to him honey you got great dick." said Millie comforting her husband
"I'm surprised they manage to not kill each other instead of their target," Danny thought.
"Now then let's get the weapons and the book. We got some killing to do," Blitzo Walks out of the room.
The I.M.P. crew arrives at a high-end suburb of Beverly Hills, California. The imps sneak around the neighborhood, not getting spotted by any eyewitnesses. They sneak across to a house for sale across from the target house, and they hide behind a moving container. They see a yellow Tesla and white Jeep in the driveway while there is a car under a white sheet on the side of the street.
"Alright target haven't left yet," said Moxxie
"Good now Danny go place the bomb under her car." said Blitzo as he hands Danny C4
"Why can't Millie do that?" said Danny
"Because you're not taking a backseat on this job."
Danny groans; he looks around to see no eyewitness or a car driving on the street. He moves across the street and places it under Tesla. He quickly gets back to the other imps.
"Now we have to wait for the bimbo to get in," said Blitzo
"How did you know she's Bimbo Blitz?" said Millie
"I don't know but the way the client tells about her I can imagine her being a bimbo using daddy money to get whatever she wants without the fucking care in the world."
"Why does it sound like you dated someone like that?" said Danny
"I'll tell you the hell of dating after we're done with this Danny."
Moxie sees the front door opening at the target house. "I see two people coming out."
A woman in her early twenties was coming out of the house who had platinum blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore a tight violet purple dress that showed off her large breast, white high heels, and a black purse.
"Told you guys she's a bimbo," said Blitzo elbowed Moxxie
Behind the target is a red-haired man in his fifties wearing a blue suit with a red stripe tie. They go to the side of the street to the car under the sheet.
"Now for being such a good girl for the past few months Chloe I bought something you've been asking for a long time," said the older man as he took the sheet off the car to reveal a white Lamborghini Aventador.
Chole yelled in happiness, "daddy I can't believe you gave me a Lamborghini."
"I give the best for my baby girl." the man goes into his pocket and takes out the keys to the car "give it a spin."
The woman kisses her dad on the cheek as she takes the keys from him. She gets into the Lamborghini, and in mere seconds she drives off.
Blitzo facepalm "you gotta be fucking kidding me."
"What do we know, boss?" said Danny
Blitzo looks over next door and sees a black Porsche 911 in the driveway. The imp grinned and said, "Millie I'm gonna need you to hotwire a car."
"Got it Blitz," said Millie
"What about the C4?" said Danny
"We can worry about that later we our target is escaping." said Blitzo
"Well there goes the safe plan," Moxxie thought
Chole drives her brand new car down the street and stops at a stoplight as she talks on her phone.
"Yeah my daddy gave me a brand new car today and it's fucking badass," said Chole
"Awesome babe, when are you coming over my place?" said the caller from the other end
"I think around the afternoon I need to go shopping and get to a meeting about my new fashion idea."
"Isn't the one that you Opal came up with? Aslo what happened to Opal?"
"I have no idea, maybe she is busy getting gangbang by a bunch of hood rats for drugs."
"You're probably right."
"I always am, now I gotta go bye," Chole hung up. She looked at the red light and thought, "c'mon turn fucking green now." Then she hears honking and screaming behind her "wtf," she turns to see a black Porsche toward her and a desert eagle coming out of the passenger side, and it shoots at her car "omg someone trying to kill me."
Chole peels off, ignoring the red light as she tries to get away from the Porsche. Inside the car, Blitzo is in the driver's side, Millie in the passenger seat, Danny and Moxxie are in the backseat holding for dear life.
"I'll never complain about my dad driving again," Danny thought
"Wow this car has some fucking horsepower to it," said Blitzo as he dodged a parked car and keeping with the target
"Damn it's kind of hard to get shot on her since there back window on that car," said Millie as she reloaded her pistol
Chole tried to lose them by turning corners and getting in and out of traffic, but Blitzo was on her ass. Chole starts to dial 911 on her phone.
"Hello this 911 what's your emergency?" said the operator
"Someone trying fucking kill me!" Chole shouted
"Calm down where are you?"
"I'm driving down Westpoint street and someone in a black Porsche is shooting at me."
"We'll try to send the police to the location."
"you fucking better!"
Blitzo sees a gas station up ahead and gets an idea. "Danny I'm gonna need you to use your freaky power to stop this bitch."
"And that is?" said Danny
"Put her on ice."
Danny ignores the trouble pun as he sticks his right hand out of the passenger. His eyes glow blue as a large amount of ice comes out of his hand and freezes the back of Chole's car. Causing her to spin out of control, the last thing she saw in the Porsche was a bunch of imps.
"W.T.F.!" said Chole before Millie shot her in the head, and her car slid into the gas station and exploded.
Blitzo stops the car. "Fucking A, good job Millie and Danny that bitch is dead."
"Thanks Blitzo," said Millie
"Yeah sure," said Danny as he sighs
"Moxxie even though you did jack shit at least you didn't fuck up," said Blitzo
Moxxie was about to retort only to hear police sirens in the distance, and Blitzo drives away from the scene of the crime.
After losing the cops, the I.M.P. crew arrive back at the headquarters with the successful job at hand. They return to hell back at the office. Loona was looking at her phone at the reception desk.
"How did it go?" said Loona, not looking from her phone
"Went well sweetie Danny really ice the bimbo," said Blitzo
Danny groans. "Please stop with the ice puns."
"It's unbearable," said Moxxie
"I actually like Blitzo puns," said Millie
"Thank you, Millie at least someone appreciates my comedy," said Blitzo
"Okay, do you need me for anything else?" said Danny
"Nope you can go home for the day."
Blitz uses the magical book to make a hell portal that leads to an alleyway on earth.
"See you guys later," said Danny as he walked into the portal, and it closed.
"I think he's warming up to the job," said Millie
"He better I'm paying him," said Blitzo
"Give it time sir Danny case is unique," said Moxxie
"I know that that's why we and the prince are keeping Danny a secret or we all going get fuck in the ass." Blitzo shoves his hand into his pockets and accidentally presses something. He pulled out the detonator for the C4
"wait is that for the C4 we forget take out of the car?" said Moxxie
"hm your right but the job so who fucking care," Blitzo shrugs and throws the detonator into the trash can
At the alleyway on earth, Danny looks around for anyone near the alleyway; he changes from an imp to a human. His human form had raven hair, normal skin, normal blue eyes, and no demon features. He wore a white t-shirt with a red circle, blue jeans, white socks, red and white shoes. The now human teen walks out of the alleyway and walks a couple of blocks to a strange building with a large chamber on the roof and a sign saying 'Fenton Works.' Danny walks into the house. He sees or hears that nobody is at home.
He heads upstairs and goes to his bedroom, flops onto his bed, and looks up at the ceiling. Danny thought, "how long before this job affects my life?"
Author note: Yeah, new story. I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I made a poll. If you guys want to check it out, have a good one.
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hazbincalifornia · 2 years ago
Text
The Circus: Flash-Forward
Summary: Blitzo thinks back on that first night. Second first night, technically. (Another one of my ‘episode but Blitzo is pregnant’ ficlets for fun and profit. Ao3 link includes all others.)
Wordcount: 950
Ao3 link
It was supposed to just be real fast. He couldn’t stand that look, that voice, the fact that it was apparently a ‘not divorced’ party that he’d crashed and Stolas had hard shit on his breath while sulking alone. Fuck, that sappy side was going to get him eviscerated one of these days.
Then, he’d pulled off both of their pants so he could just stick it in, pump and dump and jump out the window, and it turns out that his height wasn’t the only thing that had sprung up over the past twenty-some years.
Well.
He couldn’t have exactly let such an opportunity pass when it fell into his lap, and he might as well have some fun while he was at it, kill two sinners with one bullet.
The owl had crowed something about divorce when he’d fled smeared in cake and snickering to himself, and he’d figured that everybody won except for that frilly pink boobzilla- who probably wasn’t great in bed herself, considering Stolas had admitted they didn’t have any condoms around because there was ‘no use’ for them. Poor guy had a prize-winning hog that was practically withering off, it had been Blitzo’s solemn duty to get that thing in working order- letting it go to waste would be a crime.
Unfortunately, apparently, however many years of blue balls had combined into making the jizz that had blasted into Blitzo on their first round when he’d ridden him- before using his own spit as lube to split the prince open, getting an ecstatic cry that nearly broke his eardrums- extra effective.
Blitzo stared down at the positive test in his fingertips before shaking it, as if that would do anything but splatter droplets of piss on his hands.
“C’mon, it’s- it’s weird bird prince-jizz, maybe it’s just reading it wrong?” Yeah, that must be it.
He tried four more, fingers fumbling more as he tore open the packages of every successive one.
Two lines. Two lines. Two and a half lines for some reason that kind of looked like a frowny face, okay, that one was defective. Two lines.
He groaned, burying his face in his hands.
Blitzo could still see every curve of that face making every orgasm expression known to Hell, but also the desperation while clinging to him like a teddy bear when the imp had fallen forward and nearly passed out in the sticky evidence of the past few hours. By that point, the booze had knocked him back to the basics, and Blitzo could almost hear the echo of that old chirpy little voice in how he asked him to ‘please, stay the night?’. (Blitzo’s suspicions about the wife who never came in once coalesced into ‘this seems to be a shitshow but that’s not my fucking problem’.)
Really, he should have used the snoring a few minutes later as an excuse to wriggle out and steal the fancy book by cover of conked-out owl, but frankly, he wasn’t sure his legs would work well enough to avoid the guards. Getting a bit more sleep was just practical. Worst case scenario, he’d have to sneak in again and might have to pound him into submission (or get pounded, he was flexible) one more time, not exactly the end of the world.
He’d been wrong. This was much worse.
Technically, he could just get rid of it. This early, it would probably be as easy as popping a few pills. Stolas had been drunk-drunk by fuck three and too sense-drunk by second three to even realize this was a possibility, brain roped up in- satan, who knew what he’d been thinking? He said he didn't remember Blitzo’s name, and yet still knew about the stupid O. Blitzo wouldn’t surprised if he’d ripped a few posters of him and Barbie or Fizz off telephone poles and used them for fun in the intermediary years between when they were chubby-cheeked brats and now. How else would he remember him after this long? People didn’t remember Blitzo. They just didn’t. Not unless he made them remember, made it burn and sizzle to flaky ash.
(Unless he’d gotten an ass-whooping for the shit that had gotten stolen, but that thought made Blitzo’s sweat chill on his skin and he passed over it as quickly as possible. He would have been a lot more pissed if that had been the case anyway, right?)
Blitzo’s ass was starting to get numb as he chucked the newest test in the trash, standing up and pulling his pants on. He thought for a moment before digging it back out and exiting the bathroom, dropping it into a baggie.
The guy had reacted really, really fucking weird to him showing up again. This was probably a bad idea. Scratch that, this was definitely a bad idea. Right up there with the hot-sauce enema and the time he’d tried to buy Verosika a shirt and got one a size up which ended in him calling her fat and her calling him ‘sleeping on the fucking couch’.
Still, he’d let him have the book without much of a fight, so maybe he’d be able to… fuck, he didn’t know, maybe zap it out and make it speed-grow into a baby so he could dump it on the guy like the world’s weirdest trade? Book of potentially-infinite power for a fuck and a baby. He seemed lonely, maybe he’d appreciate that and give Blitzo some start-up money to get the office settled.
There was only a 50/50 chance that he’d regret everything while sober and try to burn Blitzo’s face off, and he was willing to roll those dice.
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shadowofthehost · 2 years ago
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"Uh-" Oh boy, how did one explain the internet? "It's uh-" This was something he struggled to explain to Alastor too, he couldn't exactly describe it, not fully at least but he could try. "It's like a library, the news and a photo album merged into one thing and you can access it with basically anything with a screen. Even TVs have internet access in the newer ones so, you can search for terrible movies you'd otherwise have to go to the movie theater or drive in for."
One good thing about Alastor being stuck in the thirties, he could kind of make comparisons that maybe make some sense to the other. Raising a brow, Astor skimmed over whatever the empire state building was then nodded. "Technology has grown quite a bit over the years and Vox carried a lot of it. Alastor didn't really care for Vox when they met so, I'm guessing that helps him hold onto his ways."
Astors ears tilted as he smiled. "Oh, don't worry, it sounds much scarier then it is. I don't think Alastor will kill me, it's just a threat that forever hangs over my head, you know, like that whole 'I brought you into this world I can take you out' line that parents use? Alastor just happens to have the ability to do so if he wants and even if people got upset, it's his right to do so." No matter how terrifying it was to know that Alastor could, Astor had fallen into some form of acceptance, some kind of faith that his creator would not have him put down no matter how much he screwed up.
However, Vox was still a line he was teetering on especially when he slipped and said something, anything could be seen as a betrayal of Alastors trust and if Vox used any of it, it made him a little nauseous to think about what that would look like. Alastor was unpredictable, no matter how goofy he was more often then not, he still very much had his cruel side. Astor was capable of the same cruelty and that was what made Alastor so nerve wracking.
Astor raised a brow at the idea of going through Voxs office, debating on if it was wise to go in there. He couldn't deny the thought was enticing, finding out all that information but Astor didn't want to give Vox a reason to think he was just digging around for information after he let his guard down. "No, there's nothing in there but a bunch of screens." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand, he had opened the door one of the times he'd been here so, at least he could bury the idea before it became a problem.
"A playboy? The only playboys you'll find down here have a spider on the cover." Astor mused, laughing slightly as he smiled at the compliment, a light tint spreading to his cheeks. "I like to think so myself but you know how it is. Anyways, Vox mentioned you were a bit of a workaholic, wouldn't be too shocking that you don't find much time for anything, even in death you don't seem to slow down. Like the guy in the Lorax, always growing the empire." Astor snickered, he knew that one would go over the others head but it would be a terrible way to welcome the human into Hell and the future, first movie of the new age and it's the equivalent of himself alive and dead, facing off against a fluffy orange menace. Oh but now he had to make him watch it just for that alone.
Tilting his head at the offer, Astor grinned. "You know, I'll accept for the simple fact, I want to see how you manage the height difference." He tended to do more tap dancing then swing but he was pretty sure he could at the very least, pick it up quickly and it could be fun to get to watch the way they danced if he couldn't figure it out.
Astor beamed, leaning his head into the hand as he closed his eyes, trying to recall the others question before he had pounced on him and forcibly made him a pillow. "Hmm...it's nice." He hummed, tail flicking as he got comfortable. "And yeah, Alastor was a human and Imps are the red little guys with black and white horns. They tend to do all the grunt work, the stuff no one wants to do." He settled on that then fell silent for a moment, listening to the others heart before giggling, if not a bit sinister.
"I wonder what your heart sounds like when you're afraid." The shade grinned slightly at the thought though he didn't move, he was curious to see how easily he could shake the human, see if his heart would speed up from even the vaguest of threats, he'd see what else could change the pace as the ideas came to mind.
He smiles, a little wistful for the early years when it had still seemed like an infinite chance for something new. A new medium, something novel. "Not even changed, just... emerged." Changing even faster now with the war over, he's still not sure what he thinks about the bomb, even if he'll say the scripts they want him to say. There is one word in there that's throwing him though. "What is the internet?" Vox had shown him the tablet e-reader thing, but that hadn't exactly been hard to understand, or to use. He can sort of understand where both of them are coming from. It's hard to look around at the city and understand how he-- they-- Vox got there, but there had been something in between to help smooth the way, it hadn't all come at once. "If mankind can build the empire state building I doubt there's much magic involved, just... technology beyond anything I know."
Vincent blinks, half tempted to reach out to do... something, say something. He's never been one for comfort but even that seems a cruel thing. Brought into the world, and into the fight between two people when you don't really ascribe to either side. "Be careful? Curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brings it back, but I'm not quite sure that adage works in Hell when you're all already dead."
He and Vox may not have talked much, but if literature had taught him anything it's that those sort of contracts usually had to be made on paper, and Vox had told him that the room across the hall was his office. It would stand t reason that at least some of the contracts would be there and he could... see what sort of stipulations his future self made. God, not even two days in Hell already he's falling into sneaky tactics. "How would..." he blushes. It's not that awkward is it? "Vox's office is across the hall, maybe, and I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard to see what sort of contracts he's getting people to sign. Just a peak, you know, in and out with no trace." Because however much Astor's words make sense, he's worried about the potential.
Vincent laughs, "I suppose that makes sense. You're more animated than a puppet would ever be! Right charming. Not much chance for that in my line of work I'm afraid, they must all thing I'm a playboy." Which was a safe enough reputation when the alternative was being gay, but down here he supposes it probably doesn't matter as much, and he doubts that Astor could know Vox without being at least aware, so he doesn't move away when Astor sits down.
Vincent sings a few bars of the last song of... God, only two nights ago. "Not an inaccurate description I can admit. It's a bit acrobatic when you can get partners who really know what they're doing. If you ever want to try I'm happy to teach you while I'm down here."
"Imp?" It's fascinating to hear all the casual words that, to the him that becomes Vox must make sense, but to him is as ineffable as the languages he's so good at mimicking the accents of. "Was your creator human once too, or... demon? Actual demon through, not like the used-to-be-human ones." And then he sees the shift in Astor's attention, and has enough time to swallow, somewhat worried that his companions decided to eat him after all.
And then his back's hitting the bed, half crushed to the bed by the other man. He draws in a breath, and, perhaps out of instinct, pulls a hand up to run it through Astor's hair, delighted by the texture. "Yes, I am, I suppose it's nice to know I didn't die upon ending up here. Heart still beats, lungs still breathe." It's actually quite nice, if he accounts for the fact it's a bit like he assumes a cat would be.
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jayswritings13 · 4 years ago
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Headcanon for Blitzo x Angel Dust please
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Angel Dust gives Blitzø all the attention that he wants and more, which melts the imp's heart to no end.
Angel loves to give affection and attention to his partner much more than receiving it, and Blitzø LOVES any and all attention or affection that comes his way.
So, it really works out.
PDA!!!
Angel and Blitzø don't give a shit who's around them.
They do save a lot of affection for behind closed doors, but for the most part, they aren't ones to shy away from and public displays.
Blitzø knew of Angel's work, but he didn't know the extent of how harsh and cruel Valentino was.
Blitzø listens and comforts Angel after any and all bad work days. It hurts him to see Angel like this, especially when Angel makes him feel like good all the time.
Blitzø tackles Angel in a hug any time that Angel visits him at I.M.P.
Angel is interested in visiting the human world once or twice., and tells Blitzø about some of his nicer memories from when he was living.
THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE
Angel is not the tallest demon in Hell, but he is still significantly taller than Blitzø.
"Aww, ain't you a cute thing." Angel cooed, picking up Blitzø to meet his eye level.
"I can name 24 ways to kill you right now."
"That's a little kinky." Angel said, "You're just pissed because you're shorter than me."
Angel tells Blitzø all the shit that goes down at the hotel and it isn't until further in their relationship that Blitzø actually visits the hotel one day to get Angel.
Bliztø didn't think that people could be redeemed by heaven, especially after his interactions with CHERUB. But what the hell did he know?
Angel isn't sure what to think of Loona, finding that she reminds him a lot of Vaggie, but more aggressive. Angel tries to attempt to have a conversation with Loona, but it goes nowhere.
It wasn't until Loona commented on one of his Voxtagram post that he realized that she didn't hate his guts.
Blitzø loves to sing and dance with Angel, often showing off some more of his artistic skills.
Blitzø even introduced Angel to some musicals, which Angel soon has a soft spot for.
"Listening to Heathers again, eh? Rough day?" Blitzø asked, dropping his keys on the table.
"No..."
"Want to belt the lyrics?"
"....yes...." Angel said, voice muffled from the pillow he was laying on.
Both Angel and Blitzø woke up to find noise complaints taped onto Blitzø's door and Loona's glares.
Angel often takes Blitzø out to clubs, acting as their dates, and Blitzø is more than happy to go. He loves going to the club and dancing.
Blitzø is pretty proud of how he dresses, but that doesn't stop him from letting Angel dress him up in other styles.
Blitzø ADORES Fat Nuggets, and often visits Angel just to see the small little hell piglet.
"Are you only in love with me because of Fat Nuggets?"
"No. I love you...for other reasons." Blitzø chuckled nervously, quickly brushing the topic aside. "Fat Nuggets is a huge bonus though."
"He is, isn't he?"
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Don't you love me too?" Blitzø asked.
"Hmmmm..." Angel tapped his finger against his cheek, leaning down to Blitzø's eye level, leaning in closer to the imp. "Of course, I love ya, Blitzy~" Angel grinned, almost falling over from the force that Blitzø tackled him in a tight hug.
"But I love Fat Nuggets more," Angel joked.
"Fair enough."
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were-up-against-them-all · 2 years ago
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Danny the Deer Demon - Hellaverse AU
//Putting this here for reference for people. This is an AU 'verse for Danny set in the same universe as Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. Danny died in 2021 at the age of 33. His cause of death was complications from pneumonia and HIV. (See his bio for more about his medical conditions and care.) Upon waking up in Hell, Danny notices quite a few differences. These are as follows:
General:
He is shorter than he was as a human. He's only about 5'6" from the ground to the top of his head. His ears and antlers add another 4" to his height. Danny is a roe deer demon. His body isn't human, but it also isn't entirely deer. Instead, it's a strange combination of the two. He also has a rather odd talent.
Head and neck:
The biggest changes to his head and neck are his ears, antlers, and markings. Danny has deer ears and multi-pronged antlers. Rather than the normal beige, though, his antlers are the dark red of long-dried blood. His hair is auburn, as are the backs of his ears. The insides of them are steel gray. His eyes are also steel gray, although they look like deer eyes rather than human eyes, with horizontally rectangular pupils. His teeth are no longer human, but more like a shark in appearance. His oddest marking is a string of numbers around his neck. They appear in a dark red that resembles dried blood. He realized upon inspection that the numbers are the combination to Alex's locked flash drive. (See bio for details on Alex and the flash drive.)
Numbers: 4389617908
Torso:
There isn't much that's drastically different about his torso. The biggest thing is the deer tail, which is reddish-brown on top and steel grey underneath.
Arms:
Danny's upper arms are the same as they were when he was human. His hands, however, are now reddish-brown with sharp, black claws. The reddish brown continues up to his elbows before fading out. There is a band of dark red numbers, the same color as his neck markings, around each wrist. These numbers are passcodes to different files related to Alex's algorithm.
Numbers, RW: 3064759
Numbers, LW: 8752647
Legs:
Danny's legs are now like those of a deer. They are reddish brown in color, digitigrade, and end in black, cloven hooves.
Abilities:
In addition to having Alex's combination written around his neck, he has found himself with a version of the ability Alex's algorithm was intended for: Danny is a walking lie detector. This ability works best on other sinner demons, imps, hellhounds, and any of the other less powerful races. It does not work on races more powerful than sinner demons. Likewise, it is less effective on sinner demons more powerful than Danny. He may have an inkling they're lying, but the more powerful they are, the harder it will be for him to be sure.
Additional:
Danny is no longer physically ill. While he still deals with depression and substance abuse, he no longer has anything resembling HIV/AIDS.
What hasn't changed:
In many regards, Danny is still his old self. He still struggles with drug and alcohol abuse, still smokes, and still really likes sex. He is most likely to have returned to sex-work upon ending up in Hell. Given he had no one he knew and no idea how the world worked, that would be his go-to until he could get out of it, as he was involved in sex-work (less than voluntarily) when he was a teenager. This, however, is not set in stone.
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ladyanaconda · 3 years ago
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Helluva Dad Vol. 4: Spring Broken
Bombproof just had to get a cold; it was nothing serious, but he'd need to rest for a few days, meaning that Striker and Jake would have to ride the I.M.P. van to get to work. It might have been a more-or-less intriguing experience if not for the radio music playing at full volume and Blitzo's careless driving. Striker spent most of the ride covering his ears while Jake was peering through the window alongside Millie.
This is why he'd rather ride Bombproof to work.
"Daaad! Can we ride the van with uncle Blitzo more often?!"
"Over my corpse!" Striker shouted over the noise. "Get away from the window, boy! The last thing I want is you losing your head!"
"But it's so fresh out here, dad!"
"Now!"
Jake groaned and went to sit next to his father with an unhappy scowl on his face. "Killjoy."
"Is this your first time riding a van?" Millie asked curiously.
"No, it's my first time riding a van with a crazy driver!" Striker banged on the wall separating the back with the driver's seat. "Hey, Blitz, can't you go any faster?!" he snapped sarcastically.
Jake's face had gained a somewhat greenish hue and his arms were clutching his stomach. "Dad, I think I'm gonna hurl!" he groaned.
"Kiddo, whatever you do, don't hurl on the carpet or Blitzo will deduct it from this month's paycheck! If anything, hurl on Moxxie's fanny pouch!"
"Hey!"
The van making an abrupt turn to get into the parking lot was the last straw for Jake. As he rushed towards the window, the vehicle came to a sudden stop and skidded. Jake would have flown out of the window if Striker hadn't grabbed him by the tail, but the vomit went up to Jake's stomach, all the way to his throat, and flew out of his mouth.
"Are you okay, my boy?" Striker asked, concerned, as he cradled the impling in his arms.
"I hate vans," Jake grumbled, earning a hair ruffling from his father.
"Listen up, you unoriginal pink cum dump! You have three goddamn seconds to get your tampon race car out of my parking spot…!"
Blitzo's voice brought the stunned group out of their daze. Striker stomped out of the van, intending to pummel Blitzo for the awful experience, but stopped in his tracks as he saw the cause of the problem. A pink car had parked on I.M.P.'s only parking spot. And the owner of the car was none other than…
"Oh shit! Verosika!"
The succubus didn't seem to hear him or didn't care. She was seething with rage, her face dripping with vomit. Jake flinched when her eyes fixed on him.
"I should have known you'd be here. I could smell fish for miles, which is odd because I believe the nearest ocean is…" Blitzo fell off the van's cabin, faceplanting on the ground. "Three rings down!"
Verosika outright ignored Blitzo this time and stomped her way towards the van. Jake hid behind his father.
"You little brat-!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses, miss!" Striker stood to his full height. The succubus was taller than him, but he never faltered. "My boy didn't to… Well, throw up in your face."
"You should be grateful! You got a facial treatment for free!" Blitzo sneered. Verosika looked like she'd snap at any moment, but she merely huffed and wiped the vomit from her face with a napkin, which she then threw at Blitzo's face.
"I suppose you're the fella who spawned that brat, am I right?" She asked, uninterested.
"I'm the boy's father, that's right." Striker nodded. Is it just him or is the succubus eyeing him eye to toe behind her sunglasses?
"You ought to teach that little spawn of yours some manners, cowboy." Verosika purred the last word in a seductive manner, running her hand down Striker's chest, leaning a bit too close for his liking.
Thankfully, Blitzo got in between them. "I'm surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab," he growled. "I can see you're still a drunken whore, clutching unto that beelze juice bottle like it's the last cock in Hell!"
"They let me out because I'm still famous, and rehab is for sad, loser wash-ups." Verosika took a sip from her flash, sneering as she wiped some drops left on her lips. "So, your sister says hi." Jake made a 'burned' hiss. Striker gave him a stern frown.
"Why are you parking here?! This is the only parking spot my company has, so take your tampon race car somewhere else!"
"Um, Blitz…" Jake pointed at the ground. I.M.P.'s name was crossed out in purple spray paint while Verosika's was written in cursive letters.
The succubus smirked. "I'm doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building…"
"Dad, who's that nasty woman?" Jake asked.
Loona gasped as if the impling has just spoken blasphemy. "Wait, you don't know about Verosika Mayday?"
"Not exactly. I mean, I've seen her in dad's porno magazines, but-" Jake quickly covered his mouth, but it was too late. He laughed nervously when his father stared at him in shock. "Just to clarify, dad, I didn't read. I skipped!"
"I'll talk with you about this later." Striker hissed.
Thankfully, an angry yell from Blitzo distracted them from the argument. "I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that."
"You know Verosika Mayday?!" Loona asked, incredulously.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, her. Yeah, we dated."
"That explains a lot of things." Striker murmured as Millie and Moxxie stepped out of the van.
"Was it before or after she became a pop star?"
"You dated a pop star?!"
Blitzo frowned. "Okay, why are you all acting like that's such a shock?"
"Hello, it's Verosika Mayday?" Loona pointed out.
"It's you?" Jake added dryly.
"I just… Is she blind? Suffering some form of brain damage? I mean, it'd make sense if she had dated Striker."
The cowboy rolled his eyes. "Gee, thank you, Moxxie, but she's not my type."
"Okay, look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be." Blitzo crossed his arms. "I don't pry into your stupid personal lives."
"You do that all the time, sir!"
"Come on, you kinda do that."
"You totally do that."
"Do I have to remind you all the times I've nearly shot you for sneaking into my house at two in the morning?!" Striker snapped.
"So…" Jake grinned mischievously. "What was sex with her like?" He yelped in pain when his father gave him a smack in the back of the head.
*HB*
Jake didn't quite understand what the fuss was about. From what Millie and Loona said, Verosika Mayday was a musical pop star, but dad wouldn't let him listen to her music; when questioned as to why he couldn't, all dad said was that it was for 'adults'.
In the end, Striker managed to distract his son via target practice. Millie would place an apple on her head so Jake could shoot it with the crossbow; Striker was quite surprised that she wasn't frightened in the least.
"Hey, Blitz, what did you do to Verosika Mayday for her to hate your guts like that?" Striker questioned casually.
"It was nothing, really! I merely borrowed her credit card when she was still sleeping and went to Wrath to take horse riding lessons!"
"Well, no wonder she's so mad."
"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side."
Striker shrugged. "Sorry, but you're on your own when it comes to relationships."
The door slammed open, startling Jake into shooting the arrow a few inches down, but Millie caught it with a hand. Moxxie looked disheveled, and his face was covered in lipstick marks. All he said was that he needed to lay down as he dropped to the floor. Millie went to check on him.
"What happened to Moxxie?" Jake asked. Striker shifted uncomfortably.
"Let's say that he received too much love," he murmured.
"But it wasn't from Millie, she's right here."
"Oh, Strikeeer!" Blitzo sang as he leaned in closer to the cowboy with a wide, exaggerated smile. "Do you know what's the best part of being the employee of the month?"
"Let me guess: to do you personal favors so you won't have to face your shitty issues yourself?"
"Bingo! I was wondering if you could use your… natural charm," Blitzo quirked his eyebrows coyly. "To have that bitch give back our parking spot."
Striker dropped Moxxie's cup of coffee. "What?"
"You know, a little bit of sweet-talking, flirting. Maybe some oral sex-"
"I know what you mean, Blitz! What I mean is why me."
"Well, you're a ladies' magnet. I don't think you'd have trouble convincing a drunken slut to give you all of her assets."
Striker wasn't sure of how Blitzo always, always, manages to convince him to do that kind of stuff, but in the end, he agreed to try 'without' having to recur to sex. He didn't need to go far, as the band of succubus had taken the vacant offices right in front of I.M.P. Well, no wonder Blitzo was so mad! Meeting up with your ex and finding out you'd have to be in the same building for a bloody week wasn't pleasant.
Striker took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Apparently, the succubus band was still making fun of Moxxie's probably tiny dick. They went silent as soon as he came in.
"Well, look who it is."
"Greetings, miss Mayday." Striker tipped his hat for the sake of courtesy. "I suppose I don't need to explain why I'm here."
"Want a kiss, cowboy?" one of the incubi got a little too close to his liking, prompting Striker to point the barrel of his pistol right at the demon's face.
"Put a hand on me and I'll put a bullet in-between your eyes." the imp hissed, tail rattling.
"Oh, look! His tail is like a baby rattle!"
"Hey, did that cute little impling come with you? I want to eat him with kisses!"
This time, Striker pulled out his angelic pistol. "Leave the boy out of this," he growled, expression dark. The sight of the weapon scared the succubi into silence, all but one.
"Well, well, you certainly have more balls than the little guy with the bowtie." Verosika purred, hips swaying as she approached him. "Too bad I already got a bodyguard, 'cause you look like you'd be good at that." she gently pushed the barrel of the pistol aside with a finger, leaning dangerously close to Striker's face. "I suppose Blitzo is still throwing a tantrum over the parking spot, right?"
"That's right, ma'am." Striker stepped back warily, putting his pistol away. "Perhaps we could reach an agreement, considering that…"
He's dealt with succubi before, but never in such a personal manner. Not ever since… Striker knew what was happening when he realized he had been cornered against the wall. Verosika's hands lay on his chest as she leaned in close to his face. His tail rattled uncontrollably. His bottom tightened at the she-devil's enticing aura.
"An agreement, you say?"
"Y-Yes…" Striker cursed himself for stuttering.
Verosika pulled him closer by the waist, licking her lips. "You have such alluring eyes, cowboy. Reminds me of an anaconda hypnotizing her prey…" Striker grabbed her wrist before she could reach for the zipper of his pants. Verosika laughed, running her other hand down the line of his neck. "Let me kiss you…"
Her lips were inches away from Striker's when she heard a click and something pressing against her stomach: the blessed pistol, firmly held in the imp's hand.
"Nice try, sugar, but my heart already belongs to someone else." Striker sneered. Impressed, Verosika stepped back, smirking.
"Not bad, cowboy. Not everyone can resist my charms. Just for that, I'm offering you a deal."
"A deal?"
"A demon duel. I bet you and Vlitzo's sorry company can't off as many people as we can fuck by the end of the day. If you win, I'll return your parking spot. If I win," Verosika whispered into Striker's ear. Whatever she told him sent shivers down his spine.
Reluctantly, Striker looked up at the succubus, fists clenched. "Game on, bitch."
*HB*
"Alright, shut your assholes, here's how we're going to do this shit. First, we find a fuck ton of clients, we portal up, we have our fun murder time as per usual, we pill all the bodies into a big fucking canoe…" Striker didn't pay attention to the rest of Blitzo's ranting, instead distracting himself by polishing his angelic rifle. "Do you have any questions?"
Jake raised a hand. "What does orgy mean?"
Striker spat his mouthful of coffee right into Moxxie's face while the others exchanged nervous glances. Blitzo cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Let's say it's something you aren't supposed to know about for at least ten years. Now-"
"Where did you learn that word?!" Striker all but yelled, grabbing the impling by the shoulders.
"One of Verosika Mayday's songs is called 'Orgy' and I got curious."
"And where did you hear the song?"
"Loona was listening to it." Striker glared at the hellhound, but she merely shrugged.
"What? It's just a song. By the way, think I can come with you guys this time?"
"Absolutely not," Blitzo said, crossing his arms disapprovingly. "I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. Spring break is no place for vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks yup there who'd drool all over you!"
"Well, I can blend in with humans easily enough. Just let me tag along."
Blitzo blinked. "Wait, say that again?"
"I can blend in…?"
"Do you have a human disguise?" Millie inquired.
"Yeah. Don't you?" Loona widened her eyes in realization. "Wait, you five have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time without human disguises?!"
"What if we did?" Jake asked.
"Let's say it's against the rules to be seen by humans in our real forms."
"Okay, new plan!" Blitzo made a new, crudely-made scribble. "Loonie can help lure the humans to us and we'll take care of the rest. Okay, how about that?"
"Flawless logic."
"There's one little detail. We need enough client killing demands to win this bet so I won't have to-" Striker trailed off as he recalled that Jake was listening. He cleared his throat. "How will we get so many clients in such little time?"
Blitzo grinned. "I got that covered, Strike."
*HB*
Basically, Loona just lured the people on the list to a secluded spot so they could kill them without anyone noticing. Jake still couldn't believe how hot Loona looked in human form.
Jake was sure that something was bothering his father. Ever since he returned from talking with Miss Mayday, Dad acted a bit… edgier than usual. He didn't tease Moxxie as often and focused more on killing the targets. But what gave him away was the fact that he was using the blessing-tipped rifle rather than the regular one. He only uses it when there's something on his mind.
By evening, they had killed twelve people, two offed by Jake with a broken bottle.
"That's twelve kills in the back!" Blitzo laughed as they continued to put the bodies into bags. "I'd like to see that waily snatch orgasm that many…"
"All right, spring breakers! Ya'll ready to get fucked up and make some bitchin' bad choices?!"
The group glanced in the direction of the nearby stage adorned in black and pink just as Verosika stepped out of the smoke in her own human disguise. All the humans on the beach roared in excitement as the concert began. Jake noticed something odd in their behavior. Once Verosika started to sing, they-
Something covered his eyes. "Hey!"
"You're not supposed to watch this, Jakey!" Millie cried out hurriedly. Striker gave her a thankful look.
"Goddammit! That bitch started her goadish mating call! Now she's gonna win all those sex maniacs! We gotta pick things up, guys! He's on the list, Loonie?"
"Huh? Y-Yeah… I-I think so." Striker realized that Loona hadn't even looked at the supposed target. Her attention was focused on Verosika's own hellhound.
"Blitz, I don't think-" Too late. Blitzo had already sliced through the human's skull.
"All right, next one, Loonie, come on." No reply. "Loonie? Wait, where-" Blitzo panicked once he realized Loona was nowhere to be seen. "Where's my baby?!" Striker merely pointed towards Verosika's hellhound. There she was.
"And… We've lost him." Moxxie sighed as Blitzo stomped his way towards the hellhounds.
"Can't blame him. I wouldn't like any guys sniffing 'round my daughter either." Striker murmured. "Anyhow, looks like we'll have to handle the rest of the list."
Millie laughed in excitement. "Hell yeah! Team MMSJ getting shit down!"
Jake wanted to help with the killing spree, but his father put him on a table behind some beer barrels, blindfolded him with his red scarf, and firmly told him to wait for him there. So the impling sat there with a big pout on his face, arms crossed. What's up with dad today?!
"Yeah, party!"
The table was knocked over without warning. Jake fell face flat onto the ground. "Ow! What the…?!"
"Eeww! Oh my god! Fucking possums!"
"Wait, what?" Jake lifted the blindfold and realized the humans had seen him. Before he could try to escape, he was grabbed by the tail and shoved into a barrel of beer.
"Ow! Jake?!"
"Moxxie?! What's going on?!"
"I don't know, I think the humans mistook us for opossums!"
The two imps were thrown about within that confined space, sometimes getting submerged under the beer. They accidentally ended up taking big gulps of the alcoholic beverage.
*HB*
"That boy is in so much trouble!"
He gives him one simple instruction: wait at the table. Then he returns ten minutes later to find Jake and the table gone.
"Hey, Mildred! Have you seen Jake 'round here?" Striker asked Millie as soon as he saw per peering into a barrel.
"He and Moxxie are inside one of these barrels!"
"What? What the fuck are they doing in there?!"
One of the nearby barrels wobbled. Striker tipped it over with a kick, spilling out the remaining beer as well as two familiar imps.
"Moxxie!"
"Jake!"
"Millieee!" Moxxie blurted out in a drunken state. "Hey, when did you get four heads? I wanna kiss 'em!"
"Jake? Are you okay, kiddo? Striker grabbed his son by the shoulders. "Answer me, boy!"
"Hey, daddy! The impling said in-between hiccups." "This water's soo tasty! Can I have more?"
Striker rubbed his temple. "Wonderful. My kiddo's drunk and he's only nine."
"Chill out, cowboy! Just don't tell Striker 'cause he'll make a fuss!" Moxxie giggled.
Striker would have made a fuss if not for the massive sea monster that emerged from the ocean. A loud roar sent most of the humans running away from the beach, but Moxie and Jake were completely unfazed.
"Oooh, fishy! Can I keep it, daddy?"
A long, slippery tongue wrapped around Moxxie and Jake as they were pulled into the monster's mouth.
Striker and Milli exchanged determined nods. The former shot a nearby human to take his bottle and make a molotov cocktail, which he threw at the monster. The explosion was enough to make the creature fall. The imps swam towards the mutant fish, digging their respective knives into its hide just as it got back on its feet. They managed to climb towards the mouth and pry the jaws open; Moxxie and Jake, still in the tongue's grasp, were clumsily punching the monster's uvula. Millie reached out for their hands, but instead of clasping it, the drunken imps merely gave her a high-five.
"Oh, for the love of…!" Losing his patience, Striker went into the mouth and sliced the tongue off. The fish shrieked in pain and spat out the severed organ, and its two captives, with it.
However, the abrupt movement slipped the angelic rifle off Striker's shoulder and sent it down the beast's throat. "Oh, no, you don't! Mildred, think you could keep this thing busy?!"
"Striker, what are you doing?!"
The cowboy took out his knife. "I'm gonna retrieve my weapon."
*HB*
Millie and Striker swam back to the beach, both panting heavily. The latter was covered in the creature's blood after slicing open its entrails, his rifle held tightly in one hand and the bloodied knife in the other. They reunited with Blitzo, Moxxie, and Jake on the shore.
"Oh, yeah, way to show off, guys!· Blitzo cheered.
"Are Mox and Jakey okay?" Millie asked.
"Oh, yeah. They're fine." Blitzo looked down at the still-drunken imps in his arms and dropped only Moxxie to the ground.
Thankfully, Jake had fallen asleep; his young age made him less tolerant of the heavy alcoholized state. Striker carefully took the boy in his arms.
"Aww, they grow up so fast!" Blitzo chirped, teary-eyed, as he watched Jake snuggle in his father's embrace.
Sadly, the relief didn't last long as Verosika and her crew approached.
"That was handled rather… Obvious, don't you think?" Verosika sneered.
"You know, I found this," Striker held up a black and silver flask decorated with hearts. "While slicing through that creature's entrails," he smirked. "And I know for certain that it doesn't belong to any of us." That said, he tossed the flask back to its owner.
"Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world." Millie sneered.
"Oh satan! You all be so… fucked! Haha…!" Moxxie laughed in his drunken stupor.
Verosika was taken aback by the realization that they were right. "Yeah, well, you five nasty ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises." she countered.
"A human called me a possum. I'm not a possum!" Moxxie collapsed face-first into the ground.
"And given that the humans who saw us were in a deep alcoholic intoxication state, they'll probably think it was a product of their imagination." Striker added with a sneer of his own.
Blitzo chuckled. "You know, we could keep this little Bee movie scene on the down-low if you agree to let us use that parking space." Striker nearly laughed at the sour, almost childish scowl on the succubus's face. She was against the ropes and she knew it.
·...Fine."
While the others cheered at their victory, Striker merely sighed in deep relief.
"Hey, Strike, now that we're on it, what did that bitch say you'd have to do if we lost?" Blitzo asked later that day.
Striker's only response was a loud slurping sound with a straw as he enjoyed a well-deserved meatshake.
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capsironunderoos · 4 years ago
Text
December
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DINCEMBER - December 2 - December (Ariana Grande Version)
Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Female!Reader
Summary: A little thievery, a little marketplace, a little mysterious allusions to past lives, and a little green baby.
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: None that I can think of! (Possibly my writing because this one is... something else)
Author’s Note: Ah okay so I know this is a day or so late, but I still wanted to keep up with @dindjarindiaries​ Dincember! This prompt was December by Ariana Grande and I can’t lie I’d never heard the song before! It’s really good though (and I definitely added it to my “baking Christmas cookies with matthew gray gubler” playlist). I was inspired by the lines “I’m just tryna keep my baby warm through the wintertime” and “whatever is on your list I’ll do it,” but probably not in the way you’d expect... Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I have a love hate relationship with how it turned out... Also, I do make some allusions to the readers past, but you can fill those in however you like! Was she an Imperial spy? A Rebel spy? Maybe she flew alongside Luke Skywalker, or learned how to beat Lando at sabacc! Who knows! That’s completely up to you. Anywho, this was a really long author’s note sheesh... Enjoy! 
Here’s the previous prompt:
DINCEMBER - November 30 - Snow
And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist
It’s almost cold today, you find yourself thinking as a slight breeze picks up the fabric sitting on your sale table. 
You’re carefully folding your newest line of fabrics onto the table before you, making sure they’re arranged in a way that will draw people in, and will get you enough credits to at least try out the new caf they’re selling at the cantina. 
You smile at the thought and smooth out a wrinkle in the bright red fabric before turning to look around you. 
The marketplace seems almost empty. Normally you have to elbow a few Jawa to get through the crowd and set up your table, but today was unnaturally easy. 
It’s almost unsettling how quiet the town is, normally on market days patrons all the way from Mos Eisley find their way to the multi-colored booths. Your booth tends to be pretty popular, as it’s rare to find a seamstress on a dust ball like Tatooine. 
It doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes either, and that you know how to work an unsuspecting husband into buying something new for his wife, or a new mother into buying a cloth sling to carry her crying baby in. 
It also doesn’t hurt that there don’t seem to be enough rumors about you. 
Some point and whisper as they walk by, saying you once sewed the robes worn by Jedi and Sith alike. Others stare in the cantina as they place bets on which royal you sewed for and if you ever got to live on a core planet. 
Of course none of them are true, and most of them were started by you to thrum up good business. 
What can you say? The caf at the cantina is really good. 
It’s been a few minutes now, well past the opening hour of the market, and the number of booths is still few and far between. 
You hum in disappointment, accepting that you won’t be making many, if any sales today. You begin to sit down on the stool you bring along for days like this when you see a scrap of your best-selling silver cloth suspiciously fly off of the table. 
It takes a second, but you note that there’s no wind blowing, so there’s no way it was carried off by a sudden strong breeze. 
You grab the small stun gun you keep tucked away in your belt, slowly moving around the table, already knowing you’re about to have another run in with a Jawa. 
Your footsteps are measured, and if anyone were to pay enough attention, they’d notice that a seamstress wouldn’t know how to move the way you are. 
As you creep around the table, you notice that another scrap of fabric, this time green, is swept away as if by an invisible being. 
Your steps pick up then, and you round the table just in time to see a small creature waddling away from your booth, fabric dragging the ground as it struggles to carry a stolen bounty almost as large as the creature is. 
“Hey! Not so fast, little one!” You call out, and the creature turns to look at you. 
He squeaks in alarm and begins… running? 
You think it’s possibly running, or trying to at least. 
You note how large its clothes are, and how they seem to be tripping it up as it tries to escape. 
If it hadn’t been stealing from you, you’d almost have felt bad for it. 
Three more lunging steps later and you’ve managed to put your stun gun away and scoop the small being into your arms. It wails in disapproval and struggles against you in a feeble attempt to get away, but your grip is tight enough to keep it tucked into the crook of your arm. 
“Now where do you think you’re going with that?” You ask as you grab the fabric from its hands. 
As cute as you suddenly realize it is, it’s hard to miss how stubbornly it holds onto the fabric. 
You begin to walk back to your booth, scanning the area for anyone who might be searching for it. 
It’s calmed down now, and you turn to see it’s big brown eyes staring up at you. 
“Oh don’t give me that look. Doesn’t matter how cute you are, you still gotta pay like everyone else.” 
The little one coos in response, as if understanding and responding to your statement. 
“Uh huh,” you nonchalantly agree to its babbling as you do your best to fold the fabrics back into their places with one hand, your left arm currently supporting the child in it. 
“Is there someone you’re supposed to be with right now? A leash you broke off or, um, maybe a cage you got out of? Or are you somebody’s kid?” You question, and it looks up at you, blinking quietly and deciding that now it’ll be quiet.
“Well, I doubt you’re anybody’s kid, ‘cause I’ve never seen anything like you around here. But I also doubt that you’re anybody’s pet, ‘cause I know good and well no one would be able to keep you on a leash, especially not in a cage. You’re too cute for all that. Besides, I think you might be able to escape too easily anyways.” 
The child laughs at that, and you find yourself smiling in response. 
“Hey I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to pull that fabric off of my table. You’re not exactly the same height.” You wonder aloud, and the child moves to sit up as best it can in your arms. 
You apologize to it before sitting it on the table and pulling your stool up. 
It doesn’t really matter if it tries to run off, you already know you could catch the poor thing in two steps. 
The creature watches you intently, tilting its head as if inspecting you, or searching you for something. 
You furrow your eyebrows at its actions, leaning up to get a little bit closer to it. 
You notice movement out of the corner of your eye and sit back again, watching as the little one begins to raise one of his hands. 
You can feel your heart rate pick up as your mind races to put together what the child is trying to show you, but before the connection can be made a set of quick and heavy footsteps are striding up to your table. 
“There you are,” you hear through the crackle of a modulator, which cues you to turn and see a Mandalorian taking long strides to your booth. 
Dread instantly fills your chest, and you quickly stand up, glancing down at your stun gun sticking out of your boot and back to the Mandalorian. 
Was he talking to you or the kid? Regardless of whichever one he was talking to, you have a feeling you’re both about to be in some trouble. 
Last you knew you didn’t have an active bounty on your head, but that had been too many rotations ago to remember. Surely the small child beside you wouldn’t have an active bounty, it hardly knew how to speak, much less commit a serious crime against the New Republic, or the remaining Imps for that matter. 
Your wandering thoughts are quickly answered as the Mandalorian scoops the little green being in its arms. 
“I told you to stay put kid,” his tone is meant to come off as scolding, but you can hear the worry in his voice. 
The child is grinning from ear to ear, obviously happy to see the man before you. 
“You know,” you start, and the Mandalorian turns to you as if noticing you for the first time. 
“I can sew you something to wear that he can ride in. Can match the color to that fancy beskar and everything.” 
At the mention of his armor, you notice the Mandalorian stand a bit straighter. 
“No, thank you. I hope that he wasn’t too much of a bother.” 
The child laughs at the mention of himself, and you find yourself fighting a grin. 
“Well, other than trying to make off with two of my best-selling fabrics,” you shrug and the Mandalorian returns his gaze to the kid, who has gone suspiciously silent. 
“Did you give them back?” He chastises the child again, but before it has a chance to answer you step in. 
“I got them back. He tried to make a run for it, but he’s not very fast.” 
A beat of silence passes between the three of you before you continue. 
“I could fix that too. Those clothes are obviously too big for him.” 
The Mandalorian sighs, but it comes out as a crackle. How had you managed to finally meet the first customer you’d ever had that was able to resist your persuading? 
“I said no thank you earlier, and the same applies now.” 
You raise your hands in defense, feigning innocence. 
“Alright Mando, alright,” you taunt him and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 
“I’m just trying to keep that baby warm through the winter time.” 
At the reference to him, the kid squirms in the Mandalorians arms, turning to look at you with big eyes, full of want. 
“Whatever’s on your list, I’ll do it. I’m the best around. Actually, I’m the only around.” 
You decide to try one last time, and even if he doesn’t respond or buy, at least you’ll know what to work on when the next Mandalorian shows up at your table. 
He’s quiet for too long, and you turn your attention back to the kid. 
“I see why you wanted that silver, little one. It’d match ole tin can man perfectly.” 
You taunt him again, and the Mandalorian continues to stand still. 
After another beat of silence, you hear the scramble of feet behind him, and you move to glance over his shoulder. 
“Peli!” You exclaim, and she smiles as she sees you, but you notice her smile growing even bigger when she sees the kid peeking through the Mandalorians arms to see her. 
“Hey kiddo! And… kiddo,” she jokes as she moves to stand beside Mando. 
The kid makes grabby-arms towards her and she laughs, accepting him into her arms. 
“This that Mando you were telling me about over caf the other week?” You question and she nods. 
“As he lives and breathes. At least, I think he’s living and breathing.” 
You nod in agreement. 
“Come on Mando,” she prompts, gesturing for him to follow her. 
“Your ship has some… problems, to say the least, and I need an opinion that isn't a pit droids.” 
You wave to the child as Peli retreats back in the direction she came before turning to face the Mandalorian once more. 
“Offer still stands,” you start, and his helmet moves ever so slightly to look at you. 
“Response is still the same,” he combats, and you laugh.
---
Three days later and Din is ready to get off of this sand pit. 
He normally doesn’t mind coming and visiting Peli, having the Crest regularly serviced while taking a few days to visit old friends or to simply sit with the feisty mechanic and his kid. 
But he’s got stuff to do now, and Life Day is just around the corner. 
He didn’t remember too much of his childhood, but he remembered celebrating Life Day with his parents when they were still alive. Therefore, he wants to give the kid a good Life Day this year, as Din was almost certain he’d never experienced one before. 
This meant gathering gifts specifically for the little creature, and that meant trekking across the galaxy before settling onto Nevarro to celebrate Life Day with Cara and Greef. 
He watches from afar as the pit droids finish up their final touches, making sure the Crest has a full tank before he’s cleared to go. 
“Hey Mando!” 
He hears from behind him, and he turns to see Peli marching towards him. 
“Looks like you made an impression a few days ago. I’ve never known her to do anything for free, much less as a gift.” 
Din immediately knows that Peli is talking about you, and he wishes that he didn’t. 
You’ve been all he can think about, and he hates himself for literally just standing there as you tried to talk to him. 
Peli pulls him from his thoughts as she extends her hands to him, offering a gift wrapped in dark brown paper. 
Din takes it from her and mutters a thank you. 
“You’re welcome,” Peli replies dramatically before stomping off to find the kid. 
Din can read the basic scrawled on top that reads “For the tin can man and his green kid,” and he feels himself smiling at the scrawl of your handwriting. 
He quickly opens the box, not surprised to see a small dark brown robe, almost the color of the fabric he wears, sitting atop a silver pile of fabric. 
He pulls the robe out first, noticing how well it has been sewn together, already knowing that the child’s going to never want to wear anything else now. 
He then pulls out the silver fabric, noticing that it looks to be something for him. 
“Oh yeah new moms put their kids in that at the market! You just strap ‘em right to your chest and they never cry again,” Peli calls from her spot beside the ship where she’s been holding the kid and watching Din. 
Din finds his smile growing even more, and he’s almost surprised to see another note in the box, written on what looks like handmade paper. 
The basic is even more scrawled in this note, as if you’d decided to put it in at the last minute. 
Din pulls it from the box and can't help but to smile from ear to ear as he reads it. 
Just trying to keep that baby warm through the wintertime. Anything else on your list I can do, but you’re gonna have to actually pay this time. Happy Life Day.  
Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:
DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hot Chocolate
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sarah-sandwich · 4 years ago
Note
"I need a hug" please and thank you!
Hi friend! Here it is! Remind me to never commit to a fic a day for an entire week again lmao
Happy last day of National Storyteller Week to everyone who creates or consumes stories! Jump over to my ao3 for 5 ridiculous parkner fics 👌✨💛
Peter, no
He probably should have clued in sooner, a lot sooner.
Him and Peter have been attached at the hip for three years, ever since Peter ran into the lab in the middle of a video call with Tony, shouted something about an arm-wrestling tournament with the Avengers, and begged, “You gotta come trash talk them for me! Please, Mr. Stark! No one roasts as good as you!” Then, after receiving Tony’s resigned agreement, exclaimed, “I’m gonna dislocate Captain America’s shoulder!” turned tail and sprinted back out, ignoring Tony’s, “Peter, no!”
It was over in under a minute but he was bewitched.
“Who was that? And why haven’t I met him?”
“I’ve been avoiding this day,” Tony said in a world-weary tone. “You’re either going to hate each other or get on like a house fire. Either way, I’ll never know peace again.”
In usual Tony Stark fashion, he was right.
He thought he’d seen every side of Peter there is. He’s seen him soft and sleepy under the blue glow of the television. He’s seen him wired and manic as he pursues a project on little to no sleep. He’s seen him broken and bleeding in more ways than he cares to count. He’s seen him laughing until he cries, crying so hard the only thing he can do is cry with him, too exhausted to feed himself, too angry to speak, and he’s been there when he’s on the cusp of dropping dead from embarrassment (usually pointing and laughing but hey, somebody’s gotta keep him humble).
He knows him like he knows his sister, like he knows his mom, like he knows himself.
His point is, it shouldn’t have taken this camping trip to put the pieces together. Realization shouldn’t have hit him like a log to the face when Peter rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed flannel and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for wanting to kiss him stupid.
Well, stupider.
A moment later, Peter picked up the bag of tent poles like they weighed nothing and somehow managed to dump them all over the side of the road like a can of pick-up-sticks.
It’s gonna be a long weekend.
~*~
“What’s this thing for again?” Peter asks, raising his arms high over his head to hold up the long swath of fabric two times his height.
“It’s a rain fly, Peter. It keeps out the rain.”
“It’s not supposed to rain. Trust me, Aunt May checked the weather like 50 times before she would let me leave.”
“We still need it.”
“But why? We could sleep under the stars.”
“It traps in heat.”
“Sounds like another tally in the cons column. It’s hot as fuck, dude.”
“Not tonight it won’t be. Temperature fluctuates a lot in the mountains, especially when the sun goes down.”
“Temperature fluctuates in the mountains,” Peter repeats mockingly.
Harley stops what he’s doing. “If you really wanna sleep under the stars I don’t have to share my tent. Enjoy the skeeters.”
“You love me too much to leave me to sleep with the wildlife,” Peter says, voice muffled from under the rain fly as he attempts to drape it over the erected tent.
His heart skips. Does he know? Has he been that obvious even while oblivious to his own feelings? Did Peter figure it out before he did? Has he been graciously not saying anything about his huge undeniable crush while—
Peter squawks and tumbles forward, the tent collapsing under him with a snap that echoes through the trees. The rain fly flutters over him like a burial shroud.
“Please tell me whatever just broke was a part of you.”
“Uhh, sorry.”
He sighs. He’s in love with an idiot.
~*~
The tent leans a little to the left when they’re done with it but he’s pretty sure it’ll hold up through the night. Just in case, they limit how often they go in and out of it (which, in his opinion, is the way it should be done regardless).
A breeze rustles the trees, scattering pine needles as birds chitter and small unseen wildlife scurries around the underbrush. He breathes in deep, savoring the scent of dirt, pine, and fresh air. He’s been in the city far too long.
Peter stands with his hands on his hips, dirt crusted on the knees of his jeans, his borrowed flannel pulling tight across his chest as he watches a puffy white cloud scoot by with a befuddled expression.
He turns to Harley. “So umm, now what?”
He shrugs. “Whatever you want. You’re the one who’s never done this before?”
Peter stares at him blankly.
“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” He shakes his head and walks over to the car with a sigh. “This way, city boy. It’s time you learned to fish.”
“Sounds smelly.”
“Mmm.” He pops the trunk and pulls out two fishing rods—one old and dinged up, the other brand-spankin-new—and he passes them to Peter so he can grab the tackle box and a white plastic bucket with a lid on it.
“And slimy,” Peter continues, wrinkling his nose at the bold ‘WORMS’ printed on the side of the white bucket.
“That it is, but there aren’t any rats and no one has pissed on the place you need to sit so it’s automatically better than anything the city has to offer.”
“We’ll see about that,” Peter grumbles.
~*~
“Y’know,” Harley drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded as he watches Peter jump from rock to rock along the shoreline, “usually when people are lookin’ to catch a fish they cast their line into the water rather than leavin’ it on the ground.”
“Oh is that how it’s done? I had no idea,” Peter says, stooping down to peer into a small pool sequestered away from the rest of the body of water. “What do tadpoles look like?”
“Uh, little squirmy guys.”
“Very descriptive, thank you.”
“Mhmm. Anytime, darlin’.”
Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed and he jolts under the sudden scrutiny.
“What?” he asks. He always calls him darling. It’s just a thing he says—a southern thing. So what if over the years he’s stopped using the name for anyone else? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not weird.
“Are you falling asleep?” Peter asks.
“Pfft, no,” he says. The sun is deliciously warm, seeping into his skin and turning his bones to butter as the katydids buzz and birds sing. A warm breeze ruffs his hair and he finds himself blinking slowly.
“Dude, you’re totally falling asleep.” Peter grins playfully and hopscotches across the rocks back to him as he teases, “You know, usually when someone wants to catch a fish, they do it while they’re awake.”
“I am awake, dummy.”
“Not for much longer.” He comes to a stop at his side and tweaks the brim of his hat. “Look at you. You’re like an old man falling asleep in his recliner in front of the big game.”
“Napping is a perfectly respectable part of fishing,” he argues.
Peter throws back his head and laughs. Backed by blue sky and thickly forested mountain, sunlit from above, he’s never looked better.
Should he tell him? Is now the time? He can’t imagine living like this—knowing how he feels but bottling it up and keeping it a secret from his best friend.
Then again—
His fishing rod dips and he sits up with a start, hands already moving for the reel.
“Woah, is that a fish?” Peter exclaims, peering into the lake.
“Sure hope so. Can’t imagine what else it’d—,”
“Can I pull it in?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excitable puppy.
“No, you if wanna get a fish you have to put in the work.”
“What work? Laying around half-asleep?”
“Yeah, exactly. I’ll let you take it off the line, how ‘bout that?”
“Eh, that’s okay. I’m good.”
He wrestles the fish out of the lake, a bass about two hands long, and then holds the flopping fish, hooked through the lip, out to Peter.
“There you go. Just pop that puppy off the hook and toss ‘im back in.”
“Wait, you don’t even keep the fish?”
“What would I do with a fish?”
“…eat it?”
“That’s a whole song and dance I ain’t got the tools or the patience for. Just grab the fish, Pete. Preferably before it suffocates.”
Peter makes an unhappy sound in his throat but reaches for the fish. Just as his fingers brush the scales, the fish gives a mighty wiggle and Peter flinches back towards the lake.
“Eep!” Peter squeaks and goes into the water with a splash.
Harley hunches over, laughing his head off as Peter sits up, water streaming down his face and dripping from his hair.
“I hate you.” Slipping and sliding in the muck, he makes his way through the mid-thigh deep water, back to dry land, and then keeps walking past Harley and up the hill to the trail that will lead him back to camp.
All the while Harley laughs and laughs, taking a moment to free the fish back into the lake before he sits down and tips his face to the sun, chuckling and committing to memory the way Peter’s soaked jeans and flannel clung all over his body.
~*~
“I still don’t see why—,”
“Shush,” Peter snaps, frowning in concentration over the tiny flame he’s been babying to life for the past fifteen minutes.
He sighs. He tried to convince him to wait until supper for a campfire meal but Mr. Eager Beaver insisted on trying his hand at it now. Had they made sandwiches they’d be done by now and could be hiking. But no. Peter wants to play Boy Scout so they’re going to sit here and starve until he gets a fire built just to spend five minutes roasting hot dogs and then have to put it out again.
To make matters worse, Peter’s no longer wearing his shirt since it got soaked in the lake. He’d gotten attached to how he looks in his clothes. Now he’s wearing on one of his standard nerd-pun tees and a wrinkly pair of khaki cargo shorts and he’s going to have to convince him to at least put on long socks before they hike or he’s going to risk getting poison ivy or poison oak all over his calves and ankles.
“There it goes! There it goes!” Peter exclaims, sitting up tall and motioning at him to look at the little flame as it eats up the pile of twigs and tinder.
“Very good, dear,” he says dryly. “Now see if you can keep it going with some real wood.”
Peter cocks his head at him. “Was that a double-entendre?”
“Why on earth would I imply that we should put a part of my human anatomy in the fire, Peter?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, squatting beside the fire as he breaks up a stick. “Dick jokes are funny.”
“You’re a child.”
“And yet you— Shit!” He flinches back from the fire and falls on his backside.
He comes alert with a spike of adrenaline, rushing forward to— to— pat out flames with his bare hands? He doesn’t know. “What happened?” he demands, checking Peter over for damage and finding nothing, not a burn or singe in sight.
Still sprawled on the ground, Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes with an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t want to say.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” he sits up cross-legged and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He stares down at him as he looks down in his lap. “You’re really not going to tell me what just happened? I already saw you fall in a lake because you were scared of a fish. It can’t be worse than that.”
Peter looks up, neck crimped and mouth screwed into an unhappy pucker. “I thought something was on me but it was just the grass.”
Harley stares. “So, you thought a bug was on you.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this place.”
What has he gotten himself into?
~*~
Peter hasn’t stopped chattering about everything under the sun since they left camp. And considering where they are, there’s a lot to chatter about. From bugs to birds to types of trees and identifying clouds, he’s heard it all. It’s why he’s not paying attention to the path like he should, too busy watching the way Peter waves his hands animatedly as he rambles, the way the sun lights his eyes and makes his hair shine, the way his lips shape the words.
He hasn’t taken in a word he’s said for the past twenty minutes but he’s watched him with rapt attention while his mind churns through his options. He’s not one to ignore something once he knows about it. He doesn’t want to keep this a secret. There’s no reason to. It’s nothing shameful and if Peter doesn’t reciprocate then… well, nothing changes, right? He’s fine with that. Best friends is still good. Great, even.
But if Peter does reciprocate…
His breathing quickens at the thought. How did he not notice this ridiculous crush sooner? It’s like something has been awakened inside him and now it refuses to shut up and go back to sleep. He gravitates towards Peter like an orbiting moon. He’s a moth to Peter’s beam of light. Helpless under the thrall.
Peter suddenly looks right at him. “—you know what I mean?”
“Huh?” His foot lands wrong and rolls over a root. His ankle screams out and then he’s dropping as it gives out.
“Woah!” Peter catches him, one arm around his back and the other fisted into his shirt at his shoulder. His brain goes offline, only processing the way Peter is pressed against him, the way his face is angled over him like he’s on the verge of dipping him into a kiss, the way neither of them moves or speaks, staring instead with startled realization.
He thinks he imagines it when Peter’s eyes dilate but then they fix on his lips and there’s no way he’s imagining that.
Lights flash in his head and he forgets to breathe as they hang suspended in time.
Then Peter bites his lip and his cheeks flush dark pink as he yanks Harley upright.
He stumbles, unprepared, and his ankle gives out a second time.
Peter catches him by the elbows babbling, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—,”
“I’m fine. I…” The rest of the sentence vanishes from his tongue as he looks into Peter’s eyes. He loves his eyes—warm and affectionate, they always give him away. Whether they’re bright with curiosity, sparkling with delight, wide with embarrassment, or narrowed in anger, he’s an open book. That’s why the look in his eyes now gives him pause. He’s never seen it before—or maybe it’s been there all along but he hasn’t noticed until now.
They’re dark and focused like he’s seeing through him into his soul and likes what he sees so much he wants to eat him alive.
His heart thunders as he lifts a hand to Peter’s cheek. This is it. This is the moment he tells him and finds out where they’re going to go next.
Peter’s eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but then his gaze shifts beyond him and he freezes except to carefully grab his forearm in a too-tight grip.
“Bear,” Peter breathes.
His awareness of their surrounding returns so suddenly it hurts. Birds sing, bugs buzz and chirp, somewhere nearby a creek burbles, and behind him on the path, something scuffs the ground and then snorts and sniffs harshly.
“No,” he says quietly. No, he refuses to allow this to be his reality. This cannot be happening. He won’t allow this to happen.
“Harley, bear,” Peter repeats, grip tightening.
Oh my God, this is happening.
“Don’t run,” he says in an undertone. “You’re not supposed to run.”
“We gotta run.”
“Peter, no.”
“Harley, there’s a fucking bear.”
“Listen to me—,”
“I’m gonna grab you—,”
“—we gotta stay still and—,”
“I’ll carry you and—,”
“—non-threatening so—,”
“I’m going to get you up a tree and then—,”
“—it won’t chase us.”
“—the bear will chase me.”
“Peter—,”
“It’ll be fine.”
“—no.”
~*~
He waits in the tree for over an hour, ankle throbbing, sick to his stomach with worry, wondering if he’ll ever see the idiot he stupidly fell in love with ever again. Even if he didn’t get eaten by the bear, he’s no good out here in the woods. He could be lost. He could be too hurt to move. He could be—
—covered in what smells like animal shit and standing balefully at the base of the tree.
“I need a hug,” Peter says, voice small.
“Did you—,”
“I did what needed to be done.”
“So that’s—,”
“Don’t say it. Do you need help getting down?”
“I’ll figure it out. Don’t touch me.”
“That’s fair. I’ll be in the lake. Will you bring me all of the soap and soap-like products we own?”
“Yeah. Gimme a minute.”
“Thanks, Harley.”
“Peter?”
“Yeah?”
I love you. I’m glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. You’re everything I want.
“You’re an idiot,” he says.
Peter nods. “Yeah.”
~*~
“Black bears can run 35 miles per hour,” he says conversationally. They’re sprawled on a blanket while the fire crackles nearby (but not too close, they’ve had enough disasters for one day). His foot is propped on the tackle box, elevating his ankle and Peter is beside him, flat on his back staring up at the stars through the trees, close enough that their arms brush.
“Trust me, I know.”
“They can also climb trees,” he continues reading from his phone. “You should never climb a tree to avoid a bear.”
“Harley—,”
“If a bear notices you, stay calm. Most bears don’t want to attack you.”
“Dude, I get it.”
“Move away slowly and sideways. Do not run. Do not climb a tree.”
Peter snatches the phone out of his hands and sits up. “I panicked, okay? I can’t lose you! I had to get you out of there.”
He goes still, the crackling of the fire and the crickets the only sound in the night.
“Say again?”
“Don’t,” Peter says harshly, still holding his phone far out of reach. “Don’t make fun of me about this one. You don’t get it, okay?”
This isn’t how he expected this to happen. Hyper aware of his heart beating in his chest, he asks, “What don’t I get?”
“I was terrified.”
“And you think I wasn’t?”
“Not in the way I was. I was— It was like— It was like if anything happened to you, nothing would be okay ever again. I don’t—,” He pulls in a deep breath, chest heaving as his eyes shine uncommonly bright in the firelight. “I don’t know. You’re— Ever since we met things have just felt right and good in a way they hadn’t before and I’ve already lost so many people and then you were in danger and I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t.”
“Okay,” he says gently, sitting upright and scooting over on the blanket. “Okay.” He takes the phone and sets it aside then takes Peter’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”
“I think I’m in love with you,” Peter says miserably, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I think I have been for a long time.”
“Well, that’s lucky because I think I’m in love with you too.”
“You— What?”
“Mhmm. Since at least this morning.”
Peter stares at him. His lips twitch. “This morning? For real? Are you teasing me?”
“A hundred percent serious. It hit me right before you dumped my tent poles all over 36th street. Unrelated, you should wear my clothes more often.” He pauses and then says, “I think today was the universe asking me if I was sure I wanted to be tied down to your dumb ass for the rest of forever.”
“And?” Peter asks, eyes wide in the firelight.
“Yeah,” he says, smoothing a curl away from his forehead. “I’m sure.”
Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “Is that okay?”
Heart in his mouth, he says, “I think you can do better.”
Peter laughs and smooths his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”
“I love you too, darlin’.”
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votederpycausemufins · 3 years ago
Text
another chapter of the scattered au story I'm writing. tagging @helleborusangel because ❤ and @hermitcraftheadcanons since they made the au with their community.
Now then... where have we seen those names from last time before? hmm, maybe Grian knows.
Grian coughed a bit as the magic keeping him alive faded a bit. Though snow mostly covered his wings, he could still see a few visible patches of formerly red feathers, now a bright purple. For the most part, he was trying to ignore that, instead focusing on the bots. “A-Alright. Wh-who don’t w-we know a-about y-yet?”
“Well Bdubs hasn’t had any death messages yet.” Grum answered while trying to force one of his arms to move since it was stiff from the severe cold. “Also nothing from Jeven, Beef, Keralis, Joe or Hypno.”
“And then Ren and Etho have had deaths, but nothing that tells us where they are. Well, unless you count Etho in the overworld since he got killed by a monster.” Jrum said next. “Oh, and False and Stress are both near water cause they drowned a few times, but it looks like they stopped a while ago.”
Grian gave a shivering nod, trying to warm himself up a bit more by rubbing his arms. “A-anything important that we kn-know other than that?”
The bots looked at each other for a few moments before looking back to Grian. “Well, we’re pretty sure it’s nothing… but…”
“Wh-what is it?” Grian asked, breathing into his hands.
“So out of everyone, Impulse has been dying the most. With just about everyone else, they’re stuck with something they can run from. Like Daddy with the illagers and Cub with the cave spiders.” Grum started before allowing Jrum to continue.
“If you weren’t making things better, you would probably dying lots and lots more from the cold, but then Impulse keeps getting killed by guardians, and if they don’t, he dies anyway to drowning.”
Grian nodded before he again nearly died to the cold, instead his survival instincts getting him to use magic and heal himself up as well as warm him and also the bots. When it stopped again, he was panting. Using so much magic was detrimental to him, especially in this situation. “G-Go o-on…”
“Well, the time between his previous death and a drowning death is getting longer. Only a tiny bit, like half a second or less, but it’s always going up and not just fluctuating.”
Grian nodded. “Th-that’s not completely unusual. R-repeated deaths to th-the same thing c-can make y-you m-more resistant. Y-You’ve probably n-noticed that w-with Scar and him c-crashing into things. It m-might be happening with others, b-but not consistently e-enough for you t-two to n-notice.”
Jrum went to hug Grian but then was stopped by Grum. “Wait, we’re still metal. We’ll just steal his heat.”
“B-but I want to hug him!” Jrum complained. “I-I’m scared! I don’t like this! I want to go back to the shopping district!”
Grum hugged Jrum instead. “I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation for this, and if anyone’s going to figure it out, we probably can. Everyone seems spread out, but you and I stayed with Dad. I’m guessing the magic keeping him alive kept us with him. He’s not really in the best condition to do much other than staying alive, so we’ve got to do it ourselves.”
“But what can we even figure out?”
“W-Well, you t-two already t-told me about th-the other h-hermits. A-and what w-was u-up with Imp-pulse. I’m s-sure y-you can d-do plenty w-with more t-time.”
“Exactly, and we also know that whatever is causing this can be affected by Watcher magic.”
Jrum pouted. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”
“But it narrows it down a little! Which is better than nothing! And it does remove the possibility that helscraft is responsible.”
Jrum stared at Grum for a few seconds. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Right, no mayoral reservoirs. Um, it’s like hermitcraft, but evil.”
Grian smiled as the two bots talked. Even in a bad situation, he was glad they seemed mostly fine. He, on the other hand, felt horrible. Sure, he was keeping himself from freezing to death, but that was all. Taking all this damage wasn’t something his body really appreciated, nor was using so much magic. It was draining him, and there was nothing to eat up there.
Grian tried to purposely use his magic to summon something, anything, to eat. Even if it were a spider eye or rotten flesh. He wished a zombie would even spawn, but the top was covered in powdered snow and mobs refused to spawn on or in it. Still, if he had the energy, he could force a spawn. The thing was, he didn’t, and even attempting made his hearts deplete more. He was just so hungry.
His magic forcefully kicked in to keep him alive, but it just made things worse. It could heal him, but not keep him fed, so it was just at a stalemate as it healed the damage from starvation. But the more he used the magic, the worse he got, and finally, the amount of damage he was taking was greater than what was being healed. And then, he died.
Grian immediately gasped upon respawning, the magic of the feat leaving him feeling temporarily revitalized. He could still find some aftereffects of using so much magic, namely that even after respawning, his wings were still the wrong colors.
Jrum was on him in an instant, the cold metal frigid against his skin. He could hear Grum complaining, but Grian didn’t care, hugging the bot back. If he got cold again, he would likely just end up using more magic. If anything, right now was the perfect time to use some. Grian pulled back from the hug with that realization and summoned an entire stack of cooked steak. It hurt a bit to use enough magic for that, but it would likely keep him alive much longer. And if he did die, he could do it again.
“A-Alright… If we’re g-going to try anything… i-it’s going to b-be now. I w-want one of y-you to jump o-off the m-mountain.”
“What?!” Jrum exclaimed. “Won’t we just die?!”
“I-I’m h-hoping that y-you being r-robots a-and made of m-metal m-means you c-can take m-more f-fall d-damage.” Grian explained through chattering teeth. “S-sort of l-like i-if I were w-wearing armor. I w-would s-still be c-careful a-and go down a b-bit a-at a time, b-but you should r-respawn. A-and if y-you wouldn’t, I-I’ll b-be able t-to make you r-respawn.”
“Are you sure you can do that Dad?” Grum asked, sounding concerned. “You’re already not doing so well.”
“R-Respawn h-helped. I-if we’re d-doing it at a-all, i-it’s going t-to b-be after th-that.”
The bots still looked worried, but then Grum stood up. “Alright. I’ll do it. Jrum, do your best to watch me for signals when I’m low on health so that way dad can be more prepared if something goes wrong.”
Jrum nodded and followed Grum to the edge of the small area. The older bot was able to get down a few blocks safely, finding that Grian was right about taking less fall damage as one that would have just been enough didn’t do anything. But after that, the mountain was much more sheer. Grum tried to take the best path that didn’t need jumping for more distance, which would just deal more damage, as well as shorter gaps between ledges.
He paused on one cliff, staring down at the cloud layer which was still much further below him. Unless he could find a path with very little or no damage, he wouldn’t be able to make it down there. After a few more minor descents, Grum signalled back up to Jrum, who in turn signalled to Grian. Almost immediately, Grum could sense what felt like a thin veil of magic wrap around him like just before they had moved to this season. It felt a little weaker, but Grum could tell his Dad meant it when the respawn was helping.
The robot climbed down a bit more, trying to be extremely careful every time he felt the magic waiver slightly. He was slowly getting closer to the cloud layer, but he definitely wasn’t getting to it now. All he could really do now was die from fall damage, or hope he jumped and landed in a shallow pool of water. Technically, a large pool would work too, but he was a machine, and wasn’t sure how well he and water would mix just yet. Plus, the current situation made too much water seem like more of a concern.
He tried to look for entities, using his extra mechanics for that, but with the cloud layer, he wasn’t having too much luck. Plus, at that height anything he would see would be small, and any zooming function was currently non-functional, specifically asking for an update that couldn’t currently be done. Grum looked back up and signaled one more time before jumping off the edge.
The first few seconds, all he could think about was looking at whatever was below the clouds. But then he actually got below the clouds. Of course, he was able to quickly turn around, using his robot functions to take pictures of the surrounding area, but after that was a different story. Even after getting pictures, he was still falling, and it was terrifying. Grum has already had people messing with his brain, and that was scary and painful enough. Actually dying seemed like something worse. As a robot, he couldn’t make tears, but he still couldn’t help but cry when he realized his fate.
He completely forgot about the veil of magic around him as he continued his descent. All Grum knew at that time was fear. He looked back up, hoping for some sort of comfort, but all that was there for him were clouds, and then he finally crashed into the ground.
The robot respawned just fine, no need for Grian to mess with anything. As soon as he was back on the mountain, Grian pulled Grum into his arms. The shock from dying had left the bot quiet, but it was quickly fading and he was crying again. “Y-You were s-so brave G-Grum. I-I’m s-so p-proud of y-you.”
“It was so scary.”
“I kn-know. I kn-know it’s s-scary. But y-you did s-so well.” He said, then also pulling Jrum into the hug. He wished they didn’t have to go through this. They were still kids.
As he could feel the cold trying to take him, Grian’s mind wandered. Ever since they had gotten here, he had the feeling that something about all this was somehow familiar. He wanted to figure it out, but everything was so cold, he just couldn’t focus.
.
.
Two and a half weeks ago:
“Since when do you show up to these meetings?” Someone asked, making Grian look over to them.
“Yeah, nice to see you too.” He said with a roll of his eyes.
“Doesn't answer the question.”
Grian sighed. “It’s just something to do. I’ve got a lot on my mind and not many projects left to do since we’re wrapping things up. The meeting just happened to show up when I needed something, so now I’m here.”
“Well, glad to have you. It’s actually a pretty big meeting today!”
Grian rolled his eyes. “Oh is it now. And you think Pin would agree with that?”
“He would indeed.” As a different Watcher sat down. “And he would also agree with saying it’s nice to see you.”
Grian chuckled. “Hi Pin. What have you been up to?”
“Essentially prepping for this meeting. Once Noah, Zem and Yus get here, we’ll be able to start. So I’m glad you’re early since otherwise you would have come in the middle of it all.”
“Can I at least get a hint about what we’re going to talk about? Is someone getting upped to our level? Or have we found someone new to just help take the load off of things?”
“Neither actually.” Goofball spoke up. “We’re doing something else like Evo. no scouting this time though.”
Grian couldn’t help but bounce in his seat a little. That would be the perfect thing to distract himself with. “Nice! Do you need help with towers? And do you have a world prepped or not yet. And there’s a good number of players? If you guys need any help, I’m definitely in.”
“Well, Noah’s pretty sure we need a few more towers. They’re not as grand as you had in Evo, but of course we need a good way to incorporate bedrock into the designs and Yus had been having builders block.”
“I have not!” a new voice spoke up, and Grian turned to see Zem and Yus, the latter lighting up when they saw Grian. “Xellllll! You’re here! Oh it’s been so long! It’s amazing to see you! How have you been? Is Hermitcraft treating you well? Builds have been fine?”
Grian pushed Yus back a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, technically one thing is up, but I’m trying to ignore that and so I’m here instead.”
“You know Yus isn’t going to let you leave without saying anything.” Zem said gruffly as he sat down. “Plus we can’t start until Noah gets here, so better spit it out.”
Grian shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I… well it’s kind of weird… I may have made sort of another NPC Grian… or two.”
Zem and Goofball both facepalmed while Pin looked nonplussed and Yus was excited. “Oh my gosh! I bet they’re so cute! What are their names?”
Grian sighed. “Grumbot and Jrumbot. Mumbo and I made Grum for an election I set up and then I built Jrum myself. But they’re not exactly like NPC or even Robot Grian. Everything in Hermitcraft is much more vanilla, so we had to build them pretty big to fit all the redstone and what not in. So, taking them to next season isn’t really an option.”
“Says the person who time traveled, and broke the world border, and-” Goofball was saying before Pin shut him up.
“I think what he’s trying to say is that hasn’t stopped you before. I’m sure you can still ship them off to your build world. And even if you can’t, we can take care of that when you leave for next season.”
Yus jumped up at that! “Yes! I can be the best unc- no, wait, aunt! Aunt sounds better! I’ll be their aunt!”
Grian laughed at that, as Noah finally came into the room. “Sounds exciting in here. What am I missing?” Pin and Goofball replied with ‘Grian’ at the same time Zem and Yus answered with ‘Xelqua.’ “Nice to see ya. Well, now that everyone’s here for once, we want to get this show on the road?”
“We should indeed.” Zem stood back up. “Now, as a recap for Xelqua, we are creating the Scattered experiment. A simple version is that it is the space to the Evolution experiment’s time. We’ve set up a world with all the new biomes for the upcoming updates, even the ones that most cannot access. The residents will be spread across dimensions and biomes and their goal is to reunite.”
“Sounds creative.” Grian nodded. “I’ve got a few questions though.”
“Ask away.” Pin spoke up. “More minds to think of anything we might have missed would help. Especially since you’re the one with hands-on experience.”
“Thanks. But I know with Evo, it was easy to know what was going on because everyone was in a close location. Whenever a monument showed up, word was spread easily. Are we just relying on chat for that?”
“No, we’re actually disabling the chat for the residents. Messages can still be sent by others, but that would only really be death and advancement messages.”
Grian lit up a little at that. “Oh! Clever. And if they use specially named weapons and mobs, they could find a way to actually send messages!” Then Grian frowned. “It still doesn’t answer my question though.”
“Right, well we are creating small builds that will appear at every person’s spawn. We’re sure not everyone will be leaving their spawn immediately, so those will assist those who haven’t and act as markers in the future.”
“Oh! And based on the person’s situation, those could give tools that they need!”
Noah jumped up a little. “Pin! Write that down! Write that down!”
“I’m writing, I’m writing! Get off my back!”
“That does sound like a good idea. But here’s also some notes that we’ve taking in other meetings.” Goofball said before yanking some papers away from Pin and handing them to Grian, who looked them over.
“Hmm, so I’m guessing by this one note, there are going to be hybrids or shifters included in the group. Maybe even naturals?” Grian asked, glancing up from the notes. Before he could get an answer, he was asking about something else. “And if you’re planning to have someone in the void, it’s going to be hard to mark their spawn. Also about the void, is this rotator going to be able to appear there too? I’m sure the void will kill them, but will the spawn itself make them resistant or what?”
“All good questions Xelqua.” Zem nodded. “We are going to create a gateway like structure for the one in the void as he will be in a position that leaves him with no sense of his surroundings, so it will give him that.” And after he said that, Pin wrote it down. “Some resistance for the cycler seems like a good idea. And lastly the hybrids, there are currently a few of them, but if you look on the other page, we have mob adaptions listed. Certain people will be spawning in loops that will have them adapting to their surroundings. One in a flower field will be a moobloom, one underground will gain sculk traits, someone on the mountain may be associated with a goat or arctic fox. Not everyone will go through that, as we need some control to test, but we believe that we’ll have a good selection.”
Grian nodded, pushing the papers back. “This sounds good. I mean, as long as you’ve got people who would be a good fit for something like this.”
“Oh! We definitely do!” Yus nodded. “If you want, when your season ends, you can visit us. We have it all set up so it will start when your season ends, so that way you’re not missing out.”
“Well, I’ll see how things go.” Grian replied. “I know I’ve still got some things to finish, but I should be ending soon, so I might see you all then.”
“Well, if not, I’m sure we’ll see you later.” Noah said. “I wouldn’t mind help when we get into recapping things for the records.”
“That sounds good to me.”
From there, the meeting proceeded on nicely. Nothing signalled to Grian what was around the corner for him. He never realized who the experiment was for. And then he went home.
When he got back to hermitcraft, he took what the Watchers said to heart and went looking for Mumbo. He wasn’t leaving the bots- no, he wasn’t leaving his kids behind. Even if he had to break a few rules to make it work. He was a Watcher, and nothing was enough to stop a Watcher. Well, except for another Watcher.
.
.
Grian had been keeping himself alive a bit longer, refusing to eat so he could save it for after he summoned even more. With his periods of blanking out from using Watcher magic, time felt like it was passing faster, so soon the moon was in the sky once more.
Grian tried to ignore it, but the cold of the night made everything worse. He was using more energy after the temperature drop to keep himself alive and sort of warm. It also didn’t help that so much of the magic was used to warm him, leaving the bots to slowly freeze. They may not be able to feel the cold, but ice was still freezing their joints, making it harder and harder for them to move.
Grian looked over to the cliff. He still had lots of time before he died again, but if he reset himself now, he would have more magic. And this time instead of food, he could summon something to let the bots warm up. Or maybe even...
Grian pushed himself up and walked to the ende, letting himself fall. It was still painful, but the energy filling his body when respawning made it so much worth it. Immediately, he summoned a bed before pulling himself into it. Compared to everything else, the sheets were so warm. He let his magic seep into the bed, forcing it to work. And then the sky started moving, time seeming to speed up and then it was morning.
As Grian pulled himself out of bed, he was glad to see the message in chat that told everyone he had been the one to advance the sun and moon. While it might not have been too helpful for most, suddenly having daylight or just being able to know what time it was could be useful. But now that he had used the bed, he moved the bots into the sheets, hoping it would help warm them up.
The avian considered just sitting next to the bed, trying to rest normally, but something suddenly caught his attention. There was… it felt like some sort of magic. It was trying to form nearby, but there wasn’t enough energy. Grian thought maybe it would be some sort of mob. Maybe a skeleton and he could get lucky with a bow, or a zombie and iron. So he used more magic to finish summoning whatever it was.
Grian’s eyes widened at the small monument of sorts that appeared in front of him, made of ice and bedrock. Suddenly, his mind made the connection. That was one he built for the Scattered experiment. And that’s where he was now. For a moment, he was stunned, glad to know that information. Based on what he knew, he and Impulse were getting the worst of it, but that would be getting better soon. In fact, the bots had already noticed it with Impulse.
But then that made him remember something else. The bots. Grum and Jrum were children. The hermits would get through something like this. They were probably some of the best people to use for this experiment. But no, Grian drew the line and kids being involved.
He tried to use more magic, but he was too worn out. For now, he couldn’t do anything, but he was going to raise hell once he got out of here.
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