#that would be more where they’d start losing their feathers

[paintedkinzy-88]

Then does that mean they have webbing on their wings?

Do you mean Swap Alph and Undyne?

If they got excessive LV, yeah, they could lose their feathers. They’re LV levels are kinda typical of guardsmen, though, just a little higher than the average monster (which is anywhere from 1-3, only really raising with their temper in some aggravating situations, or if they had to protect themselves).

Webbing/losing feathers would usually come about if a monster reached, say… more than 10, maybe. Cuz at that point, it’s more than just a job of peacekeeping or just keeping yourself safe. If your LV is 10, 15, or higher, you’re either doing it on purpose, or you’re in a position that’s likely already screwing with your mind anyway, like Horror.

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

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Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Haloo yellow helllloooooo

Is it alright if I ask for like Trafalgar Law x reader? It's up to you if you wanna make them male or female, I'm thinking of having a reader that can summon wings but with a price. Like the wings would literally rip out of their back, leaving a big scar and lots and lots of blood. It's not bad enough? The feathers are made of light steel but has sharp edges at the bottom. Making it more than painful... And I think it should be a curse so that you wouldn't have to think of a devil fruit? It's alr if you did, tho.

omg, this almost made my cry while I was writing it! As a note, Noroi means curse. I will also likely be creating the devil fruit I used in this as well as one based on her transformation (it sounds interesting to me). I made it more than just the wings, but there's reasoning for that... I'm gonna go cry now! (not really, but holy shit, this fic!)

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood, curses, angst, pain, hurt/comfort, GN!Reader

Word Count: 1675

     The first time he saw the scars, he was horrified. Two long, vertical lines down your back about where your shoulder blades were. Starting just above the shoulder blade and running down to your mid back. He wasn’t sure if the scars looked more like tears or cuts. You hadn’t answered him when he asked what they were from, you’d refused to tell him. After asking again and again, he began to assume that something horrific had happened to you, something you were afraid to talk about. Had you been captured and tortured? Had someone betrayed you? Had it been an accident of some sort? Did you even remember what had happened? Maybe it was so traumatic that your mind blocked it out, perhaps it was painful to remember. So he stopped asking, if it was traumatic, he didn’t want to risk an outburst or break down. 

     You remembered how it had happened, how you’d gotten this curse. A devil fruit, yet it wasn’t you who’d eaten it. The Noroi Noroi no mi. It allowed the user to bestow curses upon other people. Some minor, some… some like yours. Large metal wings, sharp blades that cut through your skin as they tore out of your back. Light weight yet strong, capable of propelling you hundreds, sometimes even thousands of feet in the air. The pain was like nothing you’d ever imagined before, the first time they’d sheared through your skin, you’d screamed in pain, falling to the ground. You’d lost consciousness, the pain too much for your mind to handle. You didn’t pass out from the pain anymore, but it still made you cry out in pain, it was still a blinding pain that left you shaking. With your wings fresh from your back, you looked like an angel of war, metal wings glinting in the sunlight as fresh blood dripped from the sharp tips of the ‘feathers’. Yet the curse didn’t stop there. With each activation, the curse progressed, as if to make your life an endless hell, maybe to ensure that you’d never just learn to deal with the pain. Metal that ripped out of your hair line, forming a beautiful silver circlet, yet dripped with blood, the red liquid running is streams down your face. A burning in your eyes, like acid, as they changed into an unnaturally bright blue, the whites turning a a lustrous ivory, like pearls. With each activation of your curse, you looked more and more like some sort of twisted, bloodstained angel of war. All you could think was it was only a matter of time before armor sprouted from your limbs, a cuirass of steel protecting your chest, until your body dripped with blood and you became a ‘true angel’ of blood and steel. Your worse nightmare. Horrific pain as the metal ripped through every part of your body, dripping with blood as people looked on in fear. What would the others think? What would Law think? Would they push you away? Or perhaps they might comfort you? Would they look at you in horror? Or would their looks turn to ones of sympathy? You couldn’t take that chance. You couldn’t risk losing those you loved most. 

     Now, however, you risked losing them anyway. Should you transform, you risked losing them as they pushed you away; but if you did nothing, you risked them dying and losing them for good, risked knowing that they died when you could have saved them. So with a pained cry, you allowed the metal to tear from your skin. Once more dripping with blood, you faced your enemies. Everyone’s eyes were on you, the scream, the transformation, drawing their attention. Pauldrons of metal covered your shoulders, your blood covered circlet dripping with blood, your wings glinting in the sunlight as the red liquid dripped from the tips to the ground. Unnaturally blue eyes glared at your enemies as the hilt of a blade formed at your waist. You could feel the metal springing from your skin in the same horrific fashion, yet this time, you didn’t care. This time, you took hold of the metal willingly, this time, you pulled it from your body as if the pain didn’t matter, as if what you had become was trivial. It left a gash in your hip, the hilt burned like red hot fire against your hand as you charged forward. An angel of war? No. A demon of blood, steel, and fury as you cut your enemies down. A metal blade, sharper than any man made sword, sharper than even Law’s scalpels or feather blades. Piercing and slashing through your enemies and suddenly, you were covered in blood once more, yet this blood was not your own. Chest heaving, you dropped the blade at your feet. All around you, bodies littered the ground, blood watering the earth and pooling at your feet. You closed your eyes as tears burned behind your eye lids. It was time to face the others, time to face their horrified stares and terrified faces. But you refused to do so as you were now, refused to face them as the demonic creature you’d become. The wings retracted, the blade on the ground seemed to gain a mind of its own as it turned into liquid metal and shot into your calf. Pauldrons pulled back into your skin, and circlet slipped back into your head. But more had formed during your battle. Blood stained vambraces folded back into your forearms and a gold trimmed tasset slipped into your waist. Your clothes had been shredded by the metal that had sprouted from your body and was covered in your blood. The wounds caused by the curse quickly healed, leaving more scarring. It was a bitter sweet ability of the curse. It allowed you to heal quickly, making wounding you difficult. Because if you bled out, the curse could no longer take hold of you. The palm of your hand now had burn scars and your eyes still felt like they were covered in acid. Still, still you turned to them. Their looks were ones of horror and sympathy, they cradled their own wounds, yet they stood up, hurrying over to you. Bepo was the first to reach you, pulling you close and wrapping his large arms around you, sobbing as he tried to say something that was lost in the sounds of his crying. Penguin and Shachi were soon wrapped around you as well, muttering apologies and words of comfort. Soon the entire crew minus Law was holding you in a group hug, words of comfort surrounding you. Tears ran down your cheeks, yet these were not tears of pain. They were tears of relief. They didn’t hate you, they weren’t turning you away. They were pulling you closer. You lost track of how long they held you before you all returned to the Polar Tang, the crew offering to cook, help you clean up, let you rest, whatever you wanted. It was shortly after you’d entered your room, before you got a chance to shower that Law appeared in your room. The two of you simply stood there in silence. He was the one you were most afraid of right now. Would he leave you? Would he hate you? Would he be angry at you for keeping it a secret? Law walked over to you in silence, gently taking your arm and examining the new scars.

     “Now I know why you didn’t tell me… are you… are you still in pain?” he asked, eyes looking at you in concern. 

     “They’re… tender. They will be for a few days.” you admitted, looking away from him. Law gently wiped some blood away from your arm with his sleeve before pressing a soft kiss to the new scar that ran up your entire forearm.

     “From now on, I’ll take care of you, You’ll never have to use this ability again. I… I won’t let you. As your captain, I forbid you from using it again, no matter the situation.” he said sternly, yet you could tell that his words were simply out of worry for your well-being. You could only nod as you stared into his eyes. While they were filled with sympathy and concern, they also shone with love. He loved you too much to let this happen to you again.

     “Let me help you.” he said softly, gently pulling the remains of your blood soaked clothes from your body before gently carrying you to the shower. He was more gentle with you than ever as he carefully washed the blood from your body, almost as if he was afraid his touch would tear your skin open again. Once you were clean and in fresh clothes, he ‘shambles’ed you to the dining room, the crew already having made your favorite. While they wanted to be there for you, they’d all agreed to leave you be, not wanting to make you feel like a freak by standing there and staring at you or asking you questions. They had questions, they wanted to care for you, but they knew it would be best if they treated you like normal, as if nothing had happened. To treat you like always so that you knew that nothing had changed, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. In a way, it was true, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. You were still you, still the same person who cared about them, still the same person they’d always cared for, who was part of their little family. They’d let you rest more often, they’d treat you with more care, they’d protect you more, but you were still you, even with your curse. Law would be the same. He’d treat you like he always had, yet at the same time, he’d be more careful with you, be softer with you. But you knew it was only because they didn’t want you to have to suffer that pain again. Only because they loved you. They still loved you. 

[ashtonisvibing]

"You have both of our lives in your hands!"

Fandom: Life Series/Double Life SMP

Alternate Universe: None (Canon Divergence)

Ship(s): Slight mention of Grian x GoodTimesWithScar

Character(s): Grian, GoodTimesWithScar

Warning(s): None

Originally Published: February 4th, 2024

Word Count: 1,601

Author's Notes:

seasons skirmish gift for dusty_daffodil on AO3

first time writing... anything for mcyt, let alone the desert duo. but i certainly tried! :D

if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!

[plain text: if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!]

Full Story:

The sound of a pickaxe whacking against stone was the only sound that carried through the tunnel Grian had started to make for himself. Nearly a month in and neither him nor Scar had any sort of diamond equipment, not even a measly hoe or shovel. And with how wreckless Scar was being, Grian was fed up with using only iron armor as protection. He had such a huge chance to not end up with one of the few people here who had no regard for their safety. How did he manage to luck out as badly as he did? Well, what’s done is done now. All he needed to focus on was making sure they didn’t lose their first life already.

“Damn it, where are the diamonds??” Grian huffed, resting his pickaxe on his shoulder as he looked back up at the makeshift stone stairs that was his mineshaft. He couldn’t see the outside with how deep he had gone. “I’m almost out of torches, too. I’m surprised I haven’t found much coal down here, either..” He looked back at the stone in front of him, gently fiddling at the red, yellow, and blue feathered wings where ears should have been. A forcive habit for whenever he was thinking. “I should probably get back to the sur- Gah-!”

The avian dropped down on one knee as he clutched his chest, using his pickaxe to prop himself up. A sharp, burning pain shot from his heart and spread around his chest. He was far too familiar with this pain by now, even if it was usually slightly dimmed down. The phantom pain of his soulbound partner taking damage. And judging by how impactful it was this time…

Grian tapped the glowing green heart on his chest, revealing his health and hunger bars. And he was suddenly down four hearts. Okay, maybe Scar just fell while dealing with his cats, nothing to- “Shit-!” Another wave of pain, another three hearts lost. What was his partner doing up there?! He quickly grabbed a piece of steak out of his side bag and ate it in hopes of keeping his hunger up. It must be night time right now, why else would the two be taking so much damage

And suddenly, after another bout of pain… One heart left. The avian was panicking now. His face was pale and breathing quickened, almost to a degree that it felt like he was choking on his own air. This was it, they’d be losing their first life. And then it wouldn’t be long until they were down to red, and then completely losing. He started to scramble out of his mine shaft. His hearts were slowly regenerating; Scar might have gotten a moment of peace and was eating. But that didn’t mean the danger was over. Since it was currently night time, he could get swarmed by zombies, or blown up by a creeper. He could simply fall off a cliff.

Grian just hoped he could find his partner in time before anything happened.

The avian decided to stop by their base first, calling out Scar’s name into the dark oak trees around him in the hopes that he’ll get a response. But he wasn’t getting anything. Scar could be on the other side of the area for all he knew. At the very least by now their hearts were almost full. Grian just had to hope that it would stay that way until he found his partner.

“Scar-!” He was quick to rush through the entrance of their base, eyes darting around frantically in the hopes he’d spot a glimpse of his friend. “Scar, are you here?!”

“Grian!”

Running through the entrance was the man himself. With that stupid without-a-care smile on his lips, his hand waving to his partner before stopping right in front of him. “Oh man, you’ll never bel-”

“Scar, we just almost died, what the hell were you thinking?!” Scar was used to Grian’s frustrated yelling by this point. There was no shortage of silly and, to everyone else, stupid ideas from the salesman, especially now that he had acquired those huge gray cats. And considering that yes, he almost got the two of them killed, he wasn’t surprised that the other was so upset.

“Oh Grian, you would not believe how many monsters can appear in the jungle!” Scar laughed a little as he headed over to the cat pit, pulling some bamboo sticks out of his backpack. Grian was quick to follow him. “I just wanted to grab some snacks for the kitties, and suddenly I’m getting swarmed by skeletons and spiders! Good thing you had some food on you, I completely forgot to grab some before I left.” He chuckled, about to jump right into the pit, before his partner grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Scar, I really don’t think you understand. We. Almost. Died. And for what, just because you wanted to feed your cats?? They don’t even need to eat!” He threw his hands up in the air to try and add more emphasis to the situation. His feathers were getting really ruffled trying to get the other to understand the situation.

“Well- I didn’t think you’d be so upset by this.” Scar huffed a little, deciding to just toss the bamboo sticks into the pit in the hopes that the felines would just eat them themselves. “Sure, we almost died because I got caught by monsters, I’ll admit to that. But guess what? We didn’t! So no harm done!” And there was that confident smile, one that could either quell the avian’s worries or just make him more annoyed by how sure Scar was in whatever he was saying. And unfortunately, it wasn’t the former.

Grian took a deep breath, through the nose and out through the mouth. He couldn’t let himself just blow up on his partner. His singed pants remembered the last time that happened. “Okay. I don’t think you quite understand the situation here. The two of us?” He punched Scar’s arm, hard enough to remove half a heart from their health. The other responded with a “Hey-!” as he rubbed where he was punched. “We’re linked! I wouldn’t be upset about you running off to who knows where at whatever time if we weren’t! But any damage you take, I take, so whenever you go off on your silly little adventures you’ve got both of our lives to worry about. I just-” The avian let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you constantly put yourself in danger, hm? Is it just to prove some sort of point?”

Scar was completely taken aback by Grian’s words. He hadn’t even thought that his own little adventures would upset his friend so much. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten them so close to death. But it’s not like he ever did it on purpose. Yet the avian was upset all the same. And when Scar gave it a second of thought, he was right to be upset. He could always be a little more careful, a little less reckless. He could try to not go out at night, or start fights with the other soulbound people here. He could try to be a better friend.

“You’re… You’re right.” He chuckled a little, fingers running through his hair. “I really haven’t been the greatest friend, huh..? But I’m gonna start doing way better. And I can start by- By getting rid of these pesky cats!” And like he did only a couple of minutes before he tried to jump into the cat pit. And like last time, Grian stopped him. But this time it was more out of confusion than anger.

“Wha- Scar, I didn’t- You are the most… Bullheaded person here, aren’t you?” Despite his words, there was a small smile trying to form on his lips. Oh, he was trying hard not to be amused by his friend’s antics that never made sense. It was certainly a tough task. And Scar’s laughter wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“And here I thought you hated the cats. Have you warmed up to them, my friend?” That cocky smirk was on his lips as he crouched down a little to meet Grian’s height.

Grian hated his friend’s cocky nature. He hated how he never thought things through, how quick he was to jump into anything. How he always made a bad situation seem good. And how his smirk could easily bring a red blush to the avian’s cheeks.

He was quick to turn his head away so that said cheeks wouldn’t be visible, trying to hide his fluster as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No, not at all! I just- You’ve cared for them since day one, it would be stupid to get rid of them so soon!”

Grian’s stubbornness to always be right was the funniest thing to Scar. And who was he to deny his friend’s needs? He chuckled as he put his hands up, surrendering to the avian in front of him. “Alright, alright, the cats are staying then! Now, for my first decision as the new and responsible Scar, I say we go to bed. That way the day will come and all the skeletons and zombies and such will burn away.” Despite his attempt to hold it back, the avian let out a little chuckle as he looked up at his friend. Always the one for the dramatics. Another thing he “hated”.

“That’s the greatest decision you’ve ever made.”

[peninkwrites]

Ok I’m having crazy thoughts about bird hybrids people have probably already discussed this CW for non-consensual body modification and mutilation but like. So, the idea that the bird hybrids have clipped wings to keep them on the island. Let’s say they arrived with clipped wings, and how that happened is missing from their memory like other stuff is. Flight feathers do grow back. For small birds it can take like 6 weeks? I think? Since these are yknow, people sized birds, let’s say it takes a year.

One year on the island, first it’s Jaiden. Cucurucho tells Jaiden it’s important because if they were to try to fly off the island they’d drown. It’s a matter of safety, see? And Jaiden trusts him, so she voluntarily goes to the federation hospital and allows them to clip her wings again. She trusts him. She doesn’t know why she feels sick, or afraid, because Cucurucho said it was the right thing and he’s her friend, right?

Let’s say with the more pesky bird hybrids, for Quackity and Baghera, they are drugged and taken and wake up with feathers already clipped away. Quackity is used to gaps in his memory by now, but he hates that he can see the visible change left behind, he knows what they did to him even if he can’t remember it. It’s not like he can remember a time where he could fly anyway. Baghera finds all this familiar in a way she can just barely name if not remember. At least they didn’t rip them out. That thought doesn’t stop her panic, blinding terror at something already done to her, all she can do is find somewhere to breakdown, wondering if as a child she hid like this as well.

Phil they save for last. Older, his wings bigger, it takes longer for his feathers to return, so they can afford to wait. Let’s say this is long since he got out of the birdcage. But he sees what happens to the others, and he knows they’re coming for him. It would’ve been far less cruel if they clipped all of the wings at once, no anticipation, no dread, no looks of pity from those already hurt knowing what’s coming for him. Phil doesn’t think he can stop the federation. But he’s going to make sure it’s not easy for them. He doesn’t want the kids there, he wants them out of harms way and he doesn’t want them to see this, so he leaves them with Bad. He doesn’t explain why, and then he gets ready. He could barricade himself in the safe room under the house, but he knows he’ll have to leave eventually and part of him fears the federation can get inside and he doesn’t want to be proven wrong, he wants to pretend the kids can still be safe somewhere, so instead he arms himself. He doesn’t ask for help, not because he doesn’t think they would, Etoiles, Fit, Forever, plenty of others, but he knows they won’t be able to save him. And he doesn’t want the indignity of all that struggle, friends by his side, to end with the same result. He cannot sleep, he’s convinced if he falls asleep he’ll wake up with it already done, so he doesn’t sleep, knowing every hour awake makes him weaker. He wonders if they’re waiting for him to get weak, he wonders if he can last long enough he’ll be able to fly when they finally shoot him down. He doesn’t know if there’s even a point in fighting back, he doubts it, but he’s going to do it anyway. What else can he do?

And don’t even get me started on the idea of declawing with Cellbit and Niki. Like. It’s mutilating part of their fingers. It’s permanent. Can you imagine the pain and resentment of your friends terrified to lose parts of themselves, but knowing at least theirs will grow back? Knowing even if they ever get off this godforsaken island they’ll never be the same? The federation can disarm the others, of course they have to make sure they can fully disarm Cellbit and Niki too (do we have any more cat people?? I might be behind but horrors for them too). Imagine for cellbit it’s a condition of joining the federation, one he didn’t know about. By the time niki arrives the federation is ready. She wakes up later than the others and she wakes up wrong.

Fuck.

[princess-of-the-corner]

CC!NextGen

Other random shit you can take or leave (sometimes, you just need to share!) : )

Hirokazu (surname to be determined)

- absolutely looks more like his “Mom”

- Unlike Hawks, who has red wings, or Nijiko, who has the whole rainbow of feathers, but her most prominent controllable ones are red, Hirokazu’s wings are shades of blue. (And you’ll never guess what colour his flames are, when they finally come in!)

- Hirokazu would probably connect more with Dabi 

- timeline for the Program’s “Future Heroes”: Edgelord came first; Nijiko and Hirokazu, within a few months of each other; a few “defects” (kids that didn’t, uh, “make it to term”); Nijiko’s Mom books it; Nijiko is found by Fumi; a few months later, her adoption is made public; program scrambles, focus switches to the two they’ve got; by the “present”, they feel the program has “proven itself”, so are starting on more “projects”. They have three “up-and-comers” (all under age five) that they are planning to train.

Possible Heroes “Involved” in the Program (Who’s DNA they could get, * next to who they’d WANT BADLY)

All Might*

Miruko

Dynamite - Katsuki Bakugou (unlikely)

Best Jeanist

Gang Orca

Eraserhead - Shota Aizawa*

Kurogiri/Loud Cloud - Oboro Shirakumo*

Present Mic - Hisashi Yamada (unlikely)

Nezu

Tentacole - Mezo Shouji

Phantom Thief - Neito Monoma*

Recovery Girl

Back Up! - Eri Aizawa-Yamada*

Deku - Izuku Midoriya (unlikely)*

-

Honestly they’re just wanting to yoink a lot of people but I think one thing we need to go back and nerf in some way is how they got Edgelord because like.

There’s a difference between how Nijiko and Hirokazu were made and Edgelord. Because the former two were essentially just surrogacy via IVF. But Edgelord was more properly cloned. And while he still needed work and isn’t fully a clone due to stitched DNA, if we leave it at that then the Commission could just get hair or something easy to yoink from all of those options and clone them willy nilly and we’d have a lot more experiment kids running around.

Hm.

I’m thinking we go full Jurassic Park and have a Lysine Contingency but accidental? Like there were other attempted clones before they figured out that there was some genetic default where they couldn’t produce some enzyme. This can be fixed with some kind of routine supplement, but without it they’d fall apart.

While some felt this was a bonus, as the defect meant that the resulting clone babies would be even more dependent on them and less likely to leave lest they die, it was generally agreed that having a Hero that would die without being given a supplement every few days is a Bad Thing™ that would lose them too many. They halted the project and aren’t going to make any more attempts before they can hammer out the kinks in the cloning process.

That said: they are using Edgelord as a bit of a guinea pig, in part because they don’t have any more AfO DNA samples to work with, to see if the defect will either fix itself or become worse with age.

[feyravenchatter]

Listen. Angel with a Shotgun is still one of my stim songs that I will listen to on repeat ad nauseam. And the pieces of this started falling into place the last time I listened to it for about 3 days straight. I do have it vaguely outlined-ish, I know who the contact is, I have an idea of how that's going to go, it's just on the back burner for now

☆・*☆*・☆

The war between angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, had been raging for millennia.  It had spilled out into the mortal world, both sides hiding in plain sight.  Battles were called gang wars by humans, and it wasn’t far from the truth.  Both sides wanted to claim the realm of humans for their own, and the fights were always bloody.

Lance hadn’t been back to the Angel Garrison in a long time.  Long enough for him to have known the grandparents of the humans he hid amongst.  He’d been sent on a stealth mission nearly a century earlier, meant to infiltrate one of the demon factions, masquerading as a fallen angel.  His initial ruse had worked, the Marmora clan accepting him as one of their own.  This was where his problems started.  He quickly realized the demons might actually have a valid point.  A few valid points.  Humans should have their own will to determine their fates, not strung along by Heaven to an end that wasn’t what they were promised.  What Heaven threatened Hell was like was wrong too.  Neither side knew the other well enough to understand what their true goals were.  Lance did, and after a century, he’d determined his side was wrong.

He'd gotten close to one of the demons he was meant to be spying on as well.  Heaven strictly forbade personal relationships, deeming them troublesome and unholy.  Hell did not, fully allowing demons the freedom to get as close as they wanted with whoever they wanted.  Lance understood when he met Keith, the demon carved from ivory and ebony and inlaid with amethyst.  He was the most beautiful being Lance had ever seen.  He couldn’t help but get closer.

He first noticed his wings changing after fifty years.  He and Keith had just escaped a losing battle with far more angels than just the two of them.  Lance was hurt, and sank to the floor of the abandoned warehouse, one hand pressed to the bleeding wound in his side.

“Lance, we’re ok,” Keith said, “We’re safe.  Let me take a look at that.”

Lance winced as he moved his hand away from torn and burned skin and shredded fabric, gold blood soaking his clothes.  It felt awful; even being grazed by an angel’s smite was no joke.  His wings lay folded, his primary feathers pooling on the floor.  Keith wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t needed to carefully brush them aside to have better access to the bleeding wound.

“Your feathers are turning,” he said while taking stock of the injury.  It was pretty bad, but nothing life threatening.

Lance snapped to look, hissing at the pain.  But Keith was right.  The pure white was becoming stained, midnight blue and tarnished gold bleeding in from the tips.  It was his first indication that he was truly falling and no longer just pretending.

Fifty years later, and Lance and Keith were back-to-back in the middle of a fight.  They knew it would be fairly close quarters before they headed out that night and came prepared, Keith with a forearm-length blade in each hand, and Lance with a shotgun.  It had been a long time since he’d felt anything except pity at taking out other angels.  They’d never know how wrong they were, but Lance knew, and he also knew that there was no saving most of them.

Keith’s charcoal and purple leathery wings snapped open, and with a single powerful beat he took off for the air, spinning toward one of the angels.  That poor fuck didn’t even know what hit them.  Lance’s back was exposed, but he knew Keith wouldn’t leave him unprotected.  He heard movement, and spun to face it, pulling the lever on his weapon.  He only needed a split second to aim, and another to fire, the concrete block wall painted gold with the felled angel’s blood.  Lance stopped, muscles tensing, when he felt the hand pressed between his midnight blue wings edged in tarnished gold.

“Oh, look, it’s the traitor.”  The voice dripped heavily with self-righteousness and condescension.

Lance mentally cursed himself.  “The fuck do you want, James?”

“What do I want?  I want all stained, worthless traitors dead.  And tonight I think I’ll start with you.”

James decided to play dirty that night.  He was summoning a full smite, bare-handed, directly against Lance’s back.  There would be nothing left to save if it was completed.  But James had forgotten about Keith in his angelic arrogance, and Lance heard his quiet gasp at the luxite blade suddenly at his throat.

“Let him go,” Keith growled.

“No.”  James tried to sound sure of himself, but the tremor in his voice was too obvious.

“Let him go or I’ll cut your throat where you stand.”

James tried a different tactic.  “He’s betraying you, y’know.”

Keith scoffed, the dagger’s sharp edge biting in deeper.  “Like fuck he is.  I know all about why he came to us to begin with, but that’s over.  Right, babe?”

Lance huffed a laugh.  “Damn right.  Sorry, James.”

Keith was sent reeling back at the angelic scream and holy light.  Lance moved quickly, but not quite quickly enough, the incomplete smite exploding inches away from his back.  Keith recovered faster, throwing himself back into the fight.  Lance staggered, but remained standing, watching as Keith sliced his way through the remaining angels, bright gold blood spilling freely over black concrete.  James was glowing with his rage, white wings fully spread, and he left the rain-slicked pavement, hovering above the battle.

Lance, between the searing pain and literally incandescent angel, forgot about the shotgun in his hand, instead summoning a smite of his own.  It was different now, not backed by the power of Heaven like James’ was, but by his own will.  His own anger took physical form, racing down his arm and coalescing in the palm of his hand.  James was too angry to notice, and had no time at all to react when the unholy smite was set loose, a concentrated storm cloud of cerulean power crackling with dark gold lightning finding its target.  James screamed again, Lance’s smite consuming him.  White cracked and splintered into blood red and shining gold and then became black as the smite burned him from inside, not even ash left behind.  The rest of the angels lay dead, and Keith flew across the battlefield, catching Lance as he fell.

The last thing Lance heard before passing out was Keith’s worried voice.

“Hold on.  We’ll take care of this.”

When Lance woke, it was in one of the Victorian bedrooms of the Marmora mansion.  He was on his stomach, instantly reminded of why when he tried to get up.  The pain was incredible, and he gave up immediately, collapsing back down to the plush mattress under him.

“We took care of it as well as we could,” Keith’s voice said from the doorway, “But you know it can’t be perfect.”

“’S gonna scar, huh?” Lance asked, muffled by the pillow.

Keith sat in the chair beside him.  “Yeah.  Kinda looks like a starburst.”  He paused, gathering his thoughts.  “What James said, about you betraying me-”

Lance cut him off.  “It’s bullshit.  You know that.”

Keith interrupted this time.  “No, I know.  But you’re still in contact with them.  Is there anything they might know?”

Lance turned his head.  “No.  I don’t even tell my contact the truth, as much as they’re on our side.  It’s too risky and they know it.  All I give them is the false info to keep throwing the rest of them off.”

“You know I trust you.  I think I was just wondering why he’d bring it up.”

“Because, he had no way of knowing what I might have told you.  There is nothing to worry about.  We’re safe.”

“Ok.”  Keith leaned in for a soft kiss, a small smile curling his lip.  “Love you.”

Lance reached out, twisting their fingers together.  “Love you too.”

“Rest, love.  I’ll be back.”

When Lance had fallen asleep again, Keith left, heading for the meeting in progress.  Kolivan stood at the front of the war room, the rest of the clan spread throughout.  City maps both new and antique papered the walls, battles marked as either won or lost, Keith and Lance’s fight marked with a clear win.  Every head snapped to the door when it opened, Keith walking past them all to address Kolivan directly.

“He’s resting, and although the smite was incomplete, the injury is still severe,” he reported, “It will take at least a few days to heal enough for him to leave bedrest.”

Kolivan nodded.  “And our other matter?”

“Confirmed.  The contact needs to be retrieved.  Lance didn’t say exactly, but it sounds like they’re in danger of being found out.  I believe their knowledge of Heaven will be invaluable to us.”

“And you still trust him?”

“With my life.  Lance came to us as a spy, yes, but he has never once truly betrayed us.  Every feather has turned.  There is no question at all that he has fallen.”

“Aw, love you too, babe.”

Lance was standing braced against the doorway, clearly still in pain.  The fact that he should not at all be out of bed yet was fully ignored in favor of the newest change to the fallen angel.  Lance’s once unblemished bronze skin now bore new marks.  Wide V-shapes like spread wings now sat high on his cheekbones in richly glowing blue, the same color chasing down his arms and torso in vine-like lines.  His once clear blue eyes were darkened like the depths of the ocean, ringed in the same tarnished gold as his wings.

“But I’m going to have to disagree with your assessment.  I hadn’t fully fallen yet.  Have now.  I know none of you have ever seen a truly fallen angel, Heaven isn’t exactly known for letting us live this long.  You got the wing thing right, but this is the rest of the transformation.  And by the way, Keith’s right.  We need to get my contact out of the Garrison before they’re caught.”

Kolivan studied Lance, turning over both Keith’s report and Lance’s new appearance.  He nodded once.  “We will retrieve your contact.  Thace, Ulaz, you will lead the infiltration team.  Antok, Regris, you will support them.  Lance, can you hide your fall?”

“I’ll need to recover from tonight first, but I think so.  But we won’t have a lot of time.  I knew James.  They’ll be looking for him and when they can’t find him, they’ll be looking for whoever killed him.”

“Understood.  Keith, you’re dismissed.  Stay with him.”

Lance leaned on Keith once they were out of sight of the rest of the Marmora clan.  He was exhausted, both from the fight and completing his fall from grace.  Keith was quiet as usual, but there was an undercurrent to it.

“What was it?” he asked eventually, “What made the fall complete?”

“I killed an angel.”

“You’ve been killing angels for a century.”

“Not with my smite I haven’t.  That was what did it.  Killing one of Heaven’s children with a corrupted version of what they consider to be one of their greatest gifts.”

Keith scoffed.  “Greatest gift my ass.  What happened to the unconditional love and compassion they’re always screeching about?”

Lance laughed softly once.  “Turns out terms and conditions do apply.”

[poorlytunedukulele]

Prompt 6 - Saintly Virtues

October 27, 2958; Infinite Forest, Mercury

“This didn’t take so long last time,” Sagira complained.

“Shhh,” Veera said.  “Let her focus.”

Azra leaned on the wall, her forehead resting on her curled fists.  The Vex simulation tingled slightly where her hands were pressed against it.

Saint-14’s Light was there, but it was so faint.  Osiris’s Light had been a constellation, a shining spotlight- Saint was just a twinkle in the mists.  She searched and searched but never quite found.  They’d been here for nearly fifteen minutes.

“If we were closer in physical proximity-“ Osiris started.

This time, Azra shushed him.   She drew together her eyebrows and breathed deeply, putting all of her focus on her Lightsense.  Behind her, the two Warlocks stood out in bright, obvious sensations – banners in the wind, the Sun like a spotlight, laser fire- volcano ash and neon lights.  The weight of their impatience pressed on her.  Osiris was impatient to finally reunite with his partner, Veera was impatient with Osiris’s interruptions.

Azra drew in another breath and dove deeper- she could feel Saint, like the shocking cold water from a spring, fields of lavender, the iridescent sheen of feathers, the wonder of the possibility of the spaces between the stars-

There- the source of it all, the epicenter.  Like a quiet, slow fountain.  It wasn’t the shape she was expecting, but it was there.

“Got it,” Spark said. They had coordinates.

Azra leaned back and opened her eyes- a little shocked to realize that she was glowing faintly. Untempered, unfocused light glimmered beneath the skin of her hands like she was Awoken.

“Interesting. Marshalling your Light helps you focus this sense?” Osiris asked.

“The Light reacts to its surroundings,” Azra said.  “More Light, stronger reaction.”

“Good point,” Osiris said. “But please- let us continue.”

Azra quelled her inner spark and unholstered her Mythoclast.  There was no saying what simulation they’d be walking into.  “We all ready?”

 -

Oh.  It was this place again.  A dark future (though one thoroughly averted now that Panoptes was gone).  Veera gasped at the picture of the Sun hanging dead in the sky.  Azra cast it a glance, but quickly moved her attention elsewhere.  The ground here was absolutely littered with dead Vex.  They were heaped in mounds.  Their frames choked the narrower passages between the rocks.

“This seems like Saint,” Sagira said confidently.  The Vex did seem to be generally more crushed and smashed than shot.  Those that did show weapons damage had been dispatched at close-range with a shotgun.

“This is old,” Spark pointed out.  The Vex chassis were half-covered with drifting sand.  Azra turned her gaze up the slope- it seemed the battle had progressed from here up and into a structure a few hundred meters away.  The Vex all faced that direction, reaching out and caught on their own piles of frames.

That was also where the Light felt the strongest.  Azra was losing hope that this story would have a happy ending.  The Light was uncollected, like a Sunspot, burning stubborn persistence.  It didn’t feel like a living person.

Ever-cautious, Azra went first.  The piles of Vex were so bad she had to jump over them at times, landing with a knee-jarring thud whenever there was rock under the sand.  The two Warlocks followed a bit more elegantly.  They traced their way along the wall until Azra found a gap big enough to slip through.

It was a beautiful sight- the Light gathered like fairy-motes, slowly twisting and dancing on unfelt breezes. Its illumination revealed more piles of Vex- there was hardly a clear space on the floor.  It also illuminated the body.

Saint-14 was dead.  His Light burned, but he was gone.  

“Is this some kind of simulation?” Sagira asked.

“No,” Azra said.  “No, the body’s real.  Vex simulation doesn’t react to the Light like real matter does.” He floated there, purple ribbons rippling.  The Vex had placed him in a position of honor, on a plinth, floating above the destruction below.

Osiris walked up the steps and then stood there, staring.

“I am sorry,” Veera said gently.

Azra caught her elbow before she could more to physically comfort the older Warlock.  “Let’s give him some space, yeah?”

Veera looked back to Osiris. He stood there, perhaps a bit stiff and stony, but not at all looking like someone on the verge of a breakdown.  But Azra knew that even if he didn’t look it, he was still feeling things.  The sour and sweet grief that was beginning to blossom made Azra’s heart clench.  

She tugged on Veera’s arm a bit more firmly and the Warlock followed.  They squeezed back through the gap in the wall and stood in the open, under the dead sun.  The view outside was upsetting now; Saint certainly hadn’t gone easy.  These piles of frames were from his last stand.

It wasn’t until they were clear from Osiris’s well of emotion that Azra realized she was feeling some loss of her own.  Well, not her own own.  Her Ghost was upset.

“His Ghost’s name was Geppetto,” Spark said quietly.  “She was a friend of mine.  Before I raised you.”

There was more than one person to grieve, here.  Azra didn’t have to say anything.  She just tilted her head until it bumped him where he floated.  

“We never got much chance, but… I think you would have liked Saint,” Spark said.  “He was so… good.  He was a good person.  He really cared about people.”

“I had considered that this might end in tragedy,” Veera said.  “It has been decades since anyone had contact with Saint-14.”  She stepped closer to put a hand on Azra’s shoulder. “Still, I am sorry it ended like this.”

“It hasn’t ended,” Spark said.  That was how he dealt with the grief, the despair- he found the bright spot in it. He found something meaningful.  He gathered himself up and made himself believe the words.  “We take everything they gave us and we give it back to other people.  His legacy lives on.”  Spark had been inspired by Saint-14’s bravery, his compassion, his good humor. And hadn’t he in turn inspired is own Guardian to those same ideals?  Hadn’t she used that to help people, to inspire them as well?

Their thoughts were interrupted by Osiris’s approach.  The Warlock was still stony-faced in shock.  He should have been prepared for this, too, Azra thought, but… it was hard when it was someone you loved.

Osiris held out a datachip, almost disdainfully.  “He left this.  I have no use for it.”

Azra took it automatically. She felt like she should say something- the man just saw the body of his lifelong partner, after all.  But all of the platitudes that came to mind were so… shallow.  He wouldn’t want to share his pain with anyone he wasn’t close with- trying to soothe that pain felt dismissive somehow.  It wasn’t her place.  

Azra settled on an accepting nod and a promise.  “You know I’m here if you ever need anything.  Anything.  I know-” her own voice caught.  “Andal was already dead when I got out of the Vault.  It’s just… I know.”  The pain was a unique one, altered but not dimmed by the distance.  Regret clung to the Light like a waterlogged shirt.

Osiris’s posture loosened, just a little bit.  Azra made eye contact with Sagira and raised her eyebrows pointedly.  Even if he needed help, even if he knew she’d offer it, would his ego let him call?

“We’ll keep it in mind, I promise,” Sagira said.  

Osiris turned.  Azra let him start back down the slope.  

“It seems a bit rude, does it not?” Veera murmured.

Azra shrugged.  “He’s a private person.  He’ll get all bristly if you poke at him.  If he wants someone to talk to… well, in all honesty, it probably ain’t going to be you or me.”  She considered the shape of him as it grew smaller in the distance.  “But at least he knows there isn’t pressure from us. Some people don’t deal with incessant badgering as well as I do.”

“Well then, what’s on the chip?” Veera’s Ghost asked.  “Why didn’t Osiris want it?”

Azra watched the old Warlock open a portal and step through it.  They had the coordinates, now, they could come back any time they wanted. She turned her attention to the drive Osiris had handed her.

Spark lit it up.  The main file on it was a weapon schematic.  “A gun,” he reported.  He projected a model of it for the benefit of the Guardians.  “The Perfect Paradox, his shotgun.”

Azra’s face scrunched thoughtfully.  “I… recognize this.”

“Saint-14 was purportedly legendary with his shotgun,” Veera pointed out.  “Have you seen it before?”

“No, like…” Azra turned the projection over in her hands.  There were a few differences, cosmetic mostly, but… “I designed this. My Pack had a gunsmithing contest once. Shiro won, naturally, but this was my entry.”  Sturdy, clean, no-nonsense, with a hooked stock and iron sights.  She’d crafted it to be as rugged as possible.  You could club a Minotaur to death with it and it still would never jam.

“Perhaps he found the design somewhere,” Veera suggested.

“I don’t see how,” Azra said.  “I never published it.”

“He had the gun before you were Raised,” Spark said.  “You’re right- it is the same model.  I never connected the dots before.  How did he get a gun you made before you were alive to make it?”

 -

"It's Praedyth's rifle," Azra explained. "He… left it here somehow."

"I was going to say it belonged to someone else," Ghost commented. "This is remarkably similar in design to the Exo Stranger's rifle."

Azra's eyebrows came together in confusion. "No, I recognize it. As far as I understood, it was a custom project. No duplicates."

Ghost spun and hit the rifle with another scan. "And I recognize it, too. I'm sure of it."

Veera spoke up. "So we have more impossibilities on our hands. Is that really a surprise?"

 -

Azra just shrugged and handed the data chip over to Veera.  “You take it. I still have my own copy of the schematics.  Besides, I’m not much one for shotguns.”

“What does this mean?” Veera asked.

Spark clicked a few times. It didn’t make sense- but then again, when did things ever make sense?  “Maybe, somehow, this isn’t the last we’ll see of Saint-14.”

AO3 Linky!

[lost-girl-2021]

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I act answered the first one last night, it's just in the queue for rn, so you'll see that before you see this probably, lol.

My comfort characters change a lot, but my all time is probably either Tim Drake or Jason Todd from DC Comics (Batman).

I'm gonna pick my favorite character, which is probably Spider atm. I'd say my favorite headcanon for Spider is that he has ADHD. I really like when I read something and they give him ADHD characteristics/habits(?), probably because I have ADHD.

My favorite character to write is probably Spider. He's been the easiest to write so far and I have a lot of ideas about Avatar in general that I like to write about.

This is a snippet for Days Into Decades, but it won't happen for a few more chapters.

Mrs. Sully sighed. “I know that you remember the stories I told all of you as children. Does Eywa make mistakes?”

Spider flushed. He remembered the legends of the Nav’i, Mrs. Sully’s people. He’d practically had them all memorized. It was the only way they’d all shut up as kids, when baby Tuk needed to nap and the four of them were playing warrior in the backyard. He remembered all of it.

“Spider?” she prompted.

“No. Eywa doesn’t make mistakes."

BONUS, here's a snippet from a original story I'm working on called Wings (for now):

Kayce would never get used to sleeping on her stomach. It was the only way she could really lay down without losing feathers or irritating her back, but she hated the way her boobs pressed into the mattress and made her stomach curve forward in comparison. And one of her arms usually went numb from where she tucked them under her pillow, tingly and heavy by the time she woke up. She’d always been a deep sleeper, thankfully, so with the help of sleeping pills and an exhausting work life, it wasn’t totally unbearable anymore.

When she was a kid, it’d been a pain. She’d gotten her wings at thirteen, seven years ago. They were heavy and hurt her spine after long days of work or training. Sometimes, she woke up with her backside inflamed around the spot where her wings met her skin. She didn’t like them, most of the time. They were big, too big to move through doorways without pulling them behind her. And they were black, pitch black like a raven’s. The same shade as her hair, gleaming and intimidating and annoying. And after a slow shift the day before, she hadn’t been tired enough to ignore them like she usually was able to.

[itchy-twitchy-sneezes]

🌡🤧🌸🕯👃✨🤝🍲 Bloody painter!! THEY ARE LITERALLY MY FAVORITE PASTA!!

🌈: would Hellen sneeze from the stench of a corpse he has yet to deal with properly?

so i dont know much about this character since i was out of the fandom for a few years (he was around but i was like 10 - 12 and was mainly interested in slenderman) but i just read the description of them in the wiki and will do my best

🌡: Do they tend to run hot or cold? When they have a fever, is it barely noticeable, or does their temperature skyrocket?

he tends to have more low to moderate fevers but they still make him feel very cold. he shivers a lot. if he does get a high fever, he gets hot flashes but is still primarily cold.

🤧: What does their sneeze sound like? (Description, spelling, or both!)

he has a quiet, sharp sneeze and usually stifles unless he is in a position where he cant or doesnt have the energy. they can get quite messy though and come with a lot of spray. ex (stifled then regular); "huH- huh'ptch! hIH'tshh!"

🌸: Are they allergic to any kind of plants? Flowers, weeds, trees? If yes, how bad are their allergies to those plants?

he's badly allergic to roses and morning bells, usually sneezing within close proximity of them and unable to stop until he's away from them. he'll continue to sneeze throughout the day because of it. he's also allergic to tree pollen but it doesn't make him sneeze as much unless he directly sniffs it. his face gets really itchy though and he gets a lot of stuck sneezes.

🕯: Are they allergic to other things? Dust, animals, perfumes, certain fragrances? Anything that might be considered “out of the ordinary” to be allergic to? How bad are those allergies?

he's allergic to a lot of perfumes/colognes and cats. it usually takes a while before he really starts to feel it, initially just making his nose tickle and causing a few sneezes. he also has a mold allergy that gets triggered a lot in the fall, especially mixed with all the tree pollen. this causes tons of fits and a constant itch in his nose.

👃: In general, how sensitive is their nose? Can something like a certain flower or smell make them sneeze even if they’re not allergic to it? Do they sneeze a lot on average, or not very much? Does their nose twitch a lot, or barely ever at all?

he's not terribly sensitive, usually only sneezing about once or twice on an average day. his nose doesn't twitch too often. he is sensitive to strong or sharp smells and they can cause him to sneeze quite a few times, especially if it's a very sudden hit of the smell.

✨: What would be the best way for someone to induce them? Feathers, rolled-up tissue, or something else? How much stimulation would it take for them to start sneezing? Would inducing produce just one or two sneezes from them, or multiples?

feathers usually get him sneezing if he's induced for a while. the sneeze will build for a minute though, making him hitch and his nostrils flare. it will eventually work if he doesnt bat it away first. spices are best for inducing because of the smell and can get him to sneeze almost immediately. both will cause quite a few sneezes, usually at least 5

🤝: Do they like to be taken care of when they’re not feeling well? Or do they hate it when people fuss over them? If they do, what’s their favorite thing about being taken care of? If not, why don’t they like being taken care of? How bad would they have to be before they’d let anyone take care of them in any capacity?

he doesn't dislike being taken care of but it's a bit awkward for him at first. he enjoys getting the things he wants and may overstretch this power a bit. he usually will allow himself to be cared for once it's offered but he won't ask anyone to take care of him unless he's unable to take care of himself. ex; vertigo/dizziness, nausea, excessive pain.

🍲: What do they like to eat while they’re sick? Do they like soup, or would they prefer something that isn’t “sick person food”? Do they lose their appetite when they’re sick, or are they hungrier than usual?

he gets a bit more of an appetite when he's hungry and likes to have ice cream despite already feeling cold. though, he likes soup too. his favorite soup is tomato basil.

🌈: WILD CARD!!! Make up your own question or just talk about the character!

it depends. if he's been there as it's rotting, he wont even really notice. but if the corpse has been sitting for a while and he walks into the room it's in, the smell will hit him suddenly and he probably will sneeze a few times

i hope i did alright! this person is super cool and i think more people should follow them

[thaoilations]

Mimi’s back was still recovering from her fall, and she was coming to learn that sitting on a horse for hours on end was not the most comfortable position to heal in.

If the pair had continued travelling through the late evening like they usually would have, they would have been ahead of schedule and made it to Thao’s next job quicker. However, the brunettes back was starting to ache badly and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit like that.

Thao parked up Zach, tying him to a tree in the forest they’d stopped in for the night, the red haired cowgirl insisting it was fine and that she didn’t want to make Mimi suffer more than she had to. The brunette kicked a rock around guiltily as Thao set up the tent by the campfire, which she had also set up by herself. Usually, Mimi would jump at the chance to be her girlfriends spritely little helper and do one of these tasks for her, but with her healing injury Thao had taken on pretty much every job between the two of them there was to do. The younger girl felt bad, but she knew better than to argue against Thao.

Mimi eased herself down by the fire, her back leaning against a log as she tried her best to get comfortable, warming herself up. The forest was a little chilly and dark being surrounded by mountains and rivers, so not much warmth got trapped there. She rubbed her hands together as Thao puffed out her cheeks with an exhale, a tribute to the efforts it took putting up the tent by herself. She dropped down beside her girlfriend, their legs touching as they watched the burning embers.

“We’re gonna have to wake up and get going a little earlier than usual tomorrow to stay on schedule.” Thao explained. There was no malice or bitterness behind it at all, but Mimi bit her lip worriedly anyway. A silence had barely settled over them when she spoke.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t turn to look at the red head, but Thao shifted slightly to look at her, taking off her hat and placing it beside her.

“Huh? For what?” She seemed genuinely confused. Mimi exhaled thoughtfully out her nose, gazing up over the fire to the mountains and analysed the stars twinkling above them brightly.

“Sometimes I think about your life before you met me. You were on your own but you got things done, you know? You don’t really collect bounties anymore because of me, and all your jobs are slowed down because you have to tend to… me. I just… I hope I don’t slow you down too much, that’s all. I hope you don’t feel like you were better off without me.” She ranted, not particularly upset or frustrated or anything just… pensive. Like the thoughts were unfolding as she spoke them, voice never losing its softness. Thao stared at her profile for a moment before tutting at how ridiculous her accusation was, shaking her head slightly.

She took the young girls shoulders and eased her down to lay her head on her lap. Mimi rolled carefully, mindful of her injury to lay on her back, looking up at her girlfriend. She smiled as Thao ran her hand over the back of Mimis hair.

“You could kick me with your spurs and I still wouldn’t spook.” Thao grinned, knowing Mimi would get a kick out of it. She did, bursting into an amused giggle as she gazed up at her girlfriend in bewilderment.

“Is that cowboy talk?” She asked, knowing the answer.

“Mhm.” Her voice was hoarse and soft all at the same time, like years of harshness had feathered out into relaxation.

“Well what’s it mean, cowgirl?” Mimi fiddled with a button on Thao’s shirt. The red head looked past her at the fire and it reflected in her hazel eyes. Mimi stared unabashedly.

“It means nothing you could say or do would make me wanna drop you back off at the saloon where I found ya. You’re stuck with me for life, sorry.” She shrugged, and Mimi nearly missed the way colour speckled across her pale face briefly at the vulnerability. It was enough to reassure her and she smiled, rolling back over to watch the fire before accidentally nodding off in the warmth of Thao’s lap.

[astaroth1357]

About your last headcanon post you said something about scenting. I imagine the brothers have got most of MC's stuff scented even though it's probably dominated by the main bro in chosen MC's life. I can't stop seeing the scene where beel is about to pop someone's head because their touching his side of the room or the scratches and weird scents all of the brothers leave behind.

Well, human olfactory senses are notoriously terrible when compared to our other animal counterparts (like seriously guys, we can’t smell worth shit) so personally I don’t think that the MC would even be able to pick up the scents if they were left. They’d probably be completely ignorant of it, unless they caught one of them in the act and asked what they were doing. And well…

More Scenting Headcanons (Cause Why Not?)

Lucifer would try to be subtle about his scenting, but it only goes so far because he likes to let his wings do it. He’ll wrap the MC up in them when they hug or go into their room and just let them flap for a little while until he’s satisfied. If he’s feeling particularly possessive, he’ll pluck out a few feathers and hide them around their room so no matter what his brothers try, his smell will always linger in there without any apparent explanation... It’s all about the mind games.

Mammon is… less subtle? Like, he tries to be but the MC can read him like a book so it doesn’t really work. He’ll look for any excuse to wrap them up in his jackets or he’ll try to let them wear his sunglasses around when he can. He mostly favors using his head and hair to get the job done so he’ll rest his head on them a lot or give them almost kitten-like headbutts to pass the scent along. As far as their room goes, the MC will just “lose” stuff from time to time and then it mysteriously comes back wherever they left it last… They can’t tell that it smells like Mammon, but everyone else sure can.

Levi is also not very subtle. Since he prefers to use his tail, he’ll pretty much only scent MC in the privacy of his room unless something hits him right in the Envy, then he may just wrap them up on the spot. Levi’s also not really in their room enough to leave a noticeable impact scent-wise, but he likes to flip the script by having their scent in his room instead. He’ll offer them every blanket or pillow he can get his hands on and he will steal their clothes if he can get away with it. It gets under his brothers’ skin like no tomorrow when his bed smells like MC because they know there isn’t anything they can really do about it...

Satan does the full demonic treatment: scenting, scratching, marking; you name it. He’s not necessarily possessive like Mammon or Levi, he just really gets a kick out of seeing his marks on them and their stuff (because Lucifer will eventually see them too, you know?). Though he scents almost like a gentleman - like an arm around their waist and nuzzling their head/shoulders or something - they’ll start to find claw marks embedded in their furniture pretty soon… He does a criss-cross slashing motion and they are DEEP in there. Biting is also not off the table for him unless they expressly tell him not to, so watch out.

Asmo is NOT subtle at all, in fact he’ll shamelessly tell them what his intentions are upfront. They just HAVE to wear his scarf today so that when they go out, they’ll smell like a couple! He doesn’t even have a favorite way of scenting because he’s usually so attached to them that it’ll happen one way or another. If he’s feeling petty, though, he’ll scent a part of their room that he knows the brother he wants to spite prefers just to be an ass (that’s pretty much an olfactory middle-finger in Demon culture, it’s the equivalent of purposely sitting in someone’s favorite spot).

Beel is also not that subtle but he doesn’t do as often as his brothers. It takes a lot to get Beel to scent but when he does he goes all out because by that time he’s hit a breaking point of some kind. If he gets that far, their room will smell like nothing but him and he’ll make sure of it - I’m talking full on rubbing his back up against the walls if that’s what it takes. He’ll even claw over Satan and Belphie’s scratches just to make a point. It’s so effective that the House refers to it as “Beel Bombing” and it takes at least a week for them to undo it all…

Belphie actually scents the MOST often if you can believe it. It could even be considered one of the few “chores” he’ll never skip out on doing. Naturally, his favorite spot to scent is their bed and he’ll never miss a day of redoing it, that way his brothers have no hope of claiming that spot for themselves... He even scratches up the bedposts with numerous shallow claw marks to drive the point home. If he wants to really scent their person, then he’ll just “dust them off” with the fluffy end of his tail throughout the day. He tries to play dumb but really, what else could he be doing?

[storiesbyjes2g]

My legs were heavy like metal as I walked toward him like a bot. That undeniable feeling was there too, though not as strong. I suppose its strength grew in tandem with my denial, begging for me to acknowledge it. Now that I had, I could breathe. Well...kinda. I needed to make it through this conversation first.

"Hey." That's all I could muster the courage to say.

"Hey." He stood there, staring and making me feel all kinds of weird, before whipping out a gift box. "Ok, look... I know me showing up here is weird and random, so I'll make this quick and get out of your way. There's nothing I can give you that will fix things between us, and even this gift is kinda stupid. But I wanted you to have more than just my words."

My heart pounded in anticipation of the gift and what he had prepared to say. My brain tried to come up with potential scenarios, but I didn't know what I would have wanted him to say.

"I've been thinking about our last conversation," he began. "My mom always said it takes two to tango, and...well, she's right. I can't put it all on you and wash my hands like I'm innocent. I'm sorry for my role in messing up your marriage."

My eyes got so big I thought they'd pop out of their socket. Now I understood why I woke up with an insatiable urge to figure out my feelings because if he would have apologized weeks ago or even days ago, I'm not sure I would have accepted. I would have absolved him and continued to carry the weight of shame on my own. Someone out there was looking out for me.

"I said you started it, but I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. I should have woken you up the first time Ali called. Plum, I should have woken you up the first time I heard you snore."

I smirked and rolled my eyes.

"I should have done so many things different. You're my best friend, and I didn't have your back. I was selfish and didn't consider what was at stake. Maybe if I would have been honest with you long time ago, this wouldn't have happened."

That's true. I was losing friends like socks in the dryer back in those days because of that. And even though I valued our friendship, I would have done my best to walk away from him if he would have told me his true feelings. None of this would have happened, and I'd still be married. But I wouldn't have Dwayne in my life. I'm not honestly sure which scenario is worse.

"Anyway, I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me. Until then, I want you to have this."

It was a pack of flower seeds. How symbolic! We can start over and sprout a brand new friendship, however that may look. Or, if friendship isn't smart, we can start new lives on blank slates.

"Thanks, Dwayne. I appreciate this. And I do forgive you... I thought you hated me, so I didn't expect to see you again."

"Nah, I was mad. But I didn't hate you."

"That's good to know."

If he had expectations, he would have stated them already, so it was safe to assume he wasn't looking for anything. Still, I needed him to understand where I was.

"Dwayne... I'm... I have a lot going on right now. I'm glad we're still friends, but... My kids are here now, and I've just made a few big personal discoveries... I just need a minute to process everything, and I don't know what I want our friendship to look like yet. I hope that's ok."

"Of course. I had no illusions of things going back to how they were. All I wanted was to make a genuine apology. Everything else is totally up to you. I follow your lead, remember?" He winked.

I smiled wider than I wanted to. He always leaves the door open. Honestly, I'm not sure if that's a good thing, but it made me feel warm.

"I appreciate that," I said.

"Can I say something personal?"

Oh Watcher, please don't let this man ruffle my feathers tonight! I can't handle it right now!

"You look great. I've seen you out here jogging, doing your thing. And I love the hair. That color is illegal in Willow Creek, though."

I laughed harder than I had in weeks. My friend, Dwayne, is back, folks! I'm so glad I haven't lost him.

We said goodnight and went our separate ways. It was nearing bedtime, and Luca and Alessia were way too chatty to complete their homework by a decent hour, so I broke up their party and helped Alessia with hers.

Luca joined me for dinner while he worked. "Mama, who was that man outside?"

I really hope he missed the flash of panic in my eyes. I chewed my food extra slow as I thought up a decent response that was not a lie. "He's...our neighbor from across the street."

"Oh, ok," he said and went back to his homework.

I'm very surprised they haven't asked the question yet. Ali and I separated so long ago, and they were so young then. Maybe us not being together just became part of normal life and they stopped questioning it. But I know they're curious. I can see it in their eyes, and I can't hide it from them forever. It's time they know the truth about me.

[megan-is-mia]

Could I ask for Peacock Vil with #209? Like he's in his mating season and she is rejecting all his advances.

(This one is kind of long sorry) 209. “The way you say my name feel so fucking good…keep saying it.” (Yandere! Peacock Vil Schoenheit x Fem! S/o) (WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD!)

Ever since she was a young girl (Y/n) had known what her future would be. Born to a concubine in the Peacock King’s harem there was only one fate open to her: to become a harem-girl like her mother before her and serve her master obediently. This fact had been drilled into her since toddlerhood. Yet there was something that gave her hope and kept her from fully accepting her destiny. She had a special friend, a secret friend who lived in the castle as well. They’d never seen each other’s faces but spoke to one another every day through a hole in the wall between the two grand gardens of the palace. Her friend called themself Scélérat, and they loved two things: knowledge and beauty. Each day they would teach (Y/n) new things they’d learned from the books in the library.

With every scrap of knowledge (Y/n) gained she found new strength in herself. When she was with Scélérat she wasn’t just a lowly harem girl, she was a person who mattered in this world. Yet as the years went by things began to change, she began to be plagued with more and more duties to make her into the ideal concubine. Even worse the Peacock King’s son Vil demanded that she become his personal servant and tend to him daily.

“(Y/n) why do you stand so far from my side? Come closer darling I won’t bite” Vil cooed as he lounged back on the chaise longue and gestured for the servant to come closer. (Y/n) grit her teeth but obeyed, she despised the peacock-man and his father and everything they stood for. If it wasn’t for the king and the prince, she and her mother would not be bound to a life of sexual servitude.

Vil pulled (Y/n) down into his lap as she came closer, she had grown more beautiful than he could ever have hoped for. He still remembered with total clarity when he’d first met her, back when they were children still innocent of heart. She’d been crying in the garden and he’d spoken to her through the wall. (Y/n) had spilled out her sorrows to him and he felt his heartache for the first time in his life.

He hadn’t told her his name then, for that would have ruined everything. To her, he would be Scélérat, someone she could always depend on to be there for her and lift her up. But as time has gone by their meetings had grown shorter and less frequent, it was not her fault that she wasn’t able to meet him. (Y/n) was blooming into a beautiful young woman and therefore she had to know her duties as a concubine.

That didn’t mean he would let her slip away from him. Sure for now she may not love him as Prince Vil, but he would win her yet. He was sure of it, she had no choice in the matter. When he became king he would dismiss most of the harem that his father had amassed. Of course, he would make sure the concubines went to good homes but he would not need so many women to keep him happy. The only woman he needed to be happy was (Y/n), she would be his queen in all but name. He wished he could make her queen proper but he knew patience would be key to being successful in his endeavors. If he gave her that power before he knew for certain that she was loyal to him everything could go down in flames. Vil could not let the love in his heart cloud his judgment on the matter.

(Y/n) hated how intimately the prince touched her. His hands made her skin crawl and she felt like she needed to scrub her skin clean after every encounter with him. The other harem girls gossiped that she must be his favorite since she was the only girl he’d ever called to his chambers. However, she did not care whether or not she was the prince’s favorite for she would never care for him.

For her heart already belonged to another, her beloved Scélérat, yes they were her beloved. Though she had never had the courage to tell them of her feelings for them and now she was unlikely to ever have the chance to tell them with the prince hoarding her time and body. The only relief she had was the fact the prince and king’s mating season would soon start and none would be allowed near their rooms nor them. Perhaps in this downtime (Y/n) would gain from the prince’s season she’d be able to speak to Scélérat again and set things straight. However, until the season started she would be quite busy with Prince Vil. In the week leading up to his mating season, the prince began acting strangely towards her. One could almost call it affectionate, the way he spoke to her and tried to shower her in gifts of clothes and jewelry. “He must be trying to court you” another harem girl suggested when (Y/n) spoke of her concerns one evening. “The gift-giving, the affectionate words, the only sensible explanation is that his more bestial brain is piloting and he wants you to be his mate” she added making (Y/n) cringe with disgust. Her? The prince’s mate? No way! There was no way she would ever become the prince’s mate!

Yet despite her unwillingness, she found herself being locked in with the prince on the day his rut started. At first, he seemed totally unaware of her presence in the room, jerking furiously on his bed and grunting in a low voice. This was a side of Vil she’d never seen before, who was this unrefined creature unable to think of anything but sex? She could almost feel pity for him, almost.

(Y/n) was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice when the prince had given up trying to pleasure himself and was creeping towards her. Suddenly she found herself being pulled and forced down on the bed as Vil climbed atop of her with a lecherous grin. (Y/n) grimaced and tried to kick him off even as he leaned down to capture her lips in a hungry kiss and ran his hands down her sides.

“Finally, I have you where I want you… I’ve been waiting for this day for years” Vil said in a coo as he pulled away from the kiss. “Ever since we were young I knew you were the one for me my darling” he added leaning in for another kiss. (Y/n) turned her head away confused by the prince’s words. “What… What are you talking about! You aren’t making any sense!” she said, trying to kick him again. “Even when we’re this close to one another you still don’t recognize me? You cannot recognize your oldest friend?” the prince said, leaning down to speak in (Y/n)’s ear. “Your dear Scélérat sits before you and yet you do not see?” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her ear. This revelation froze (Y/n) to her core, the prince… he was the one she’d loved for so long? Impossible! She could not accept, she would not accept this to be true!

“I don’t believe you! You must be lying! Scélérat is a good person, unlike you! He would never let me remain a harem girl if he had the power to free me like you do!” (Y/n) said in a hiss. “Oh I have every intention of freeing you, just not yet… first I must become king so I can make you my wife” Vil said nuzzling the young woman playfully. “But such serious matters can wait until another day, let us enjoy each other’s company” he concluded.

(Y/n) knew exactly what he meant by “enjoy each other’s company” and she wanted none of it. She tried to push him away again even as he kissed down her front, yanking her top down to lavish her breasts with attention. (Y/n) had never had the curiosity to try touching herself in such a matter and as such her body jolted with the new sensations Vil forced upon her with his mouth and hands.

“You saved yourself for me didn’t you darling?” the peacock-man said with a croon, his hands darting further down (Y/n)’s body to run down her thighs. “I wish I had the patience to wait until our wedding night to do this… but I suppose there really is nothing wrong with getting started on making an heir right?” he mused to himself as the young woman below him felt her blood run cold. Her? Carry the prince’s heir? She couldn’t think of many things worse than bearing a child for this man! Perhaps she could stop him from doing this tonight? Maybe she could spare herself such a fate by taking command now? (Y/n) reached down clumsily searching for the prince’s cock and taking it firmly in her grip. Without hesitation, she began jerking him off quickly as he began to buck into her hold. “Mmmph fuck that feels so good” Vil said, his tail feathers spreading behind him as he fucked himself into the girl’s fist and let his head lol back in pleasure. It didn’t take long for him to cum messily onto (Y/n)’s body with a weak grin. “That was delightful darling, now allow me to return the favor” the prince said situating himself between the girl’s thighs. He pulled her undergarments aside before pressing his mouth to her cunt. This was not what she had wanted to have happen! She’d touched him hoping that it would be enough to please him so he wouldn’t impregnate her. He wasn’t supposed to try and return the favor of pleasuring! (Y/n) weakly kicked at the prince as he sucked on her clit and drove his tongue deep into her cunt. It felt like he was trying to clean her insides out with his mouth and she could feel her eyes rolling back in her skull. “P-puh-prince Vil!” (Y/n) squealed desperately and to her surprise, the peacock-man stopped. “The way you say my name feel so fucking good…keep saying it” the prince groaned out before he began tongue-fucking her again. It didn’t take long until the harem girl was seeing white and cumming all over Vil’s face. He licked up her release greedily before spreading her legs and scooting so his cock brushed against her pussy.

“I’ll try to be gentle, considering this is your first time… but I can't promise I won’t lose control” Vil cooed before starting to sink into (Y/n)’s depths. It didn’t take much before the young woman was squirming with discomfort. The prince was so big compared to her and his cock was just as proportionally big. The kisses that he pressed to her face did nothing to ease the pain he was causing her at this moment. “Hold on for me darling… I just need to get all the way in and then I'll make you feel really good” the prince promised. He continued to sink into her, stretching her like she’d never been stretched before. His fingers teased her clit made it almost bearable but still it wasnt enough to take the pain away. Finally, Vil was all the way in and let out a long gasp. He nuzzled (Y/n)’s shoulder before kissing it.

“You feel so tight around me… it feels amazing… I'm going to make you feel amazing too” the peacock-man said, his tail feathers shaking with delight. He pulled back a little bit before slamming back into (Y/n) with a grunt. He repeated this action over and over again each time striking a spot deep inside the harem girl’s cunt that made her see stars and moan for him like he wanted. Gradually Vil’s movements got faster and faster, gripping the bedframe as he fucked (Y/n) with all his might. The young woman came so many times yet the prince showed no signs of wearing out despite the many times he had also cum as he pounded her into the bed. “I’m gonna plant an entire nest in your womb darling… you’ll like that won’t you? Soon you’ll be a wife, a mother, and a queen just like you deserve…” THE END

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Lessons 1-5!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 5-6 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

So we obviously know that things would run a little differently with L!MC instead of a normal human MC, but just how differently do things go?

No Mammon, you are not allowed to babysit!

Unlike in canon, Mammon needs to be kept away from MC at the start. Why? He’s known this kid for less than a day, he’s gonna try and use them for scams.

Everyone else in the house? Well, they’re of... observing MC. This is a first, a half human kid just wandering around the house...

MC and Lucifer, despite their amicable meeting, were in this really awkward beginning stage where they didn’t really know what to do with each other.

“So...” MC resisted the urge to twiddle their thumbs as they followed their father through the halls of the House of Lamentation. This was their home for the next year. It was very grand... and also very creepy in some places. “Where’s my room?”

“Right here.” Lucifer stopped suddenly in front of a door in the hallway, nearly causing MC to crash into him. He opened up the door, the room was very very pink. “Asmodeus decorated, you can redecorate as you see fit.”

MC popped their head in and looked around, there were approximately a thousand pillows scattered around the bed. It was the perfect amount! The very pink colour scheme was... okay. Maybe they’d be able to switch some of it out for a nice blue.

“It’s nice! Thank you,” MC was about to say Lucifer, then father, then just shut their mouth. What were they supposed to call him? They had known each other for like... an hour. He seemed like the type to want to be called father, he was too posh to be ‘dad’ or ‘pops’, and calling their father by his first name seemed way too casual as well... Parental Figure..? Guardian? Sir..? Should they call him sir???

The fact that MC ended their sentence like they were going to continue it left the two in a very awkward silence. A+ job at conversation.

“Anyway,” Lucifer finally broke the silence. “If you need time to settle in, we can pick up the tour later.”

“N-no, it’s okay! I didn’t really bring anything so...” MC was in the middle of mentally cursing themselves out, they thought they had successfully avoided falling into the awkward middle schooler stereotype! “We can keep the tour going.”

“Alright then.” Lucifer turned and motioned for MC to follow. Wow... he was very... curt? Was that the right word to use? MC hoped this was as awkward for him as it was for them.

The next stop was the portrait staircase, Lucifer explained each one down to each minute detail, MC listened in rapt attention.

“We received that one from a painter from the sixth layer of the Devildom, it was quite a rare find.”

“How many layers are there?”

“Nine, we’re in the centre most layer. This is the most highly defended part of the Devildom.” Lucifer explained.

“Oh,” MC smiled. “Cool, so it’s like how Dante described it in the Divine Comedy?”

“Mostly, some changes have been made since that time.”

“Ah, okay.” MC nodded, a thought came to them which made them clear their throat to suppress a giggle. “May I ask a question that might bother you?”

Lucifer turned and raised an eyebrow at them. “You may ask one such question.”

“Why did Dante say you were frozen in an ice lake?”

Lucifer looked around, once he was sure that no one was listening, he turned back to MC, his voice was slightly lower when he answered. “I was ice skating with Lord Diavolo, I fell through the ice and into the lake right as Virgil and Dante arrived. Of course, Dante had to embellish or I’d smite him, if only he left out the ice part.”

To MC’s credit, they didn’t laugh, but they weren’t doing a very good job of hiding how hard it was to not burst into laughter. “Oh my... how upsetting...”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone but,” his lips quirked up into a smile. “No one would believe you if you said anything anyway.”

MC gasped, but the gasp ended up releasing the laugh they were holding in.

The half demon noticed some of the other portraits on the wall, each of the brothers had a portrait, there were two demons that MC didn’t recognize. So that was their family... they wondered if their picture might be on that wall one day...

“Who’s he?” MC pointed at the portrait between Mammon’s and Satan’s.

“That’s Leviathan, the third eldest, the Avatar of Envy, and the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy.”

‘Oooo, so he’s a military guy!’ MC thought to themselves. ‘And the third most powerful brother? Wow... he must be crazy scary...’

“What about him?” MC pointed at the seventh and final portrait.

It may have just been MC’s imagination, but they swore they saw Lucifer’s expression sour slightly.

“That’s Belphegor, the youngest and the Avatar of Sloth.” Lucifer explained. “He is currently in the human world as an exchange student.”

“Oh,” MC studied the portraits a bit more. “Cool! I hope he’s having a good time up there.”

“As do I.” Lucifer replied. “Now we should move on to the Underground-”

“LUCIFER!” Asmodeus cried. “MAMMON’S BEING STUPID AGAIN!”

Lucifer sighed and dragged a gloved hand down his face. “We’ll continue this tour later, MC. Feel free to explore some more, try not to break anything.”

“Because the things might be cursed?”

“That and the things are old and expensive.”

MC spends the rest of the day chilling in the house with Asmo, who peppers MC with ALL the questions.

They does their best to answer... but it’s clear Asmo was hoping for something a little more interesting.

“So, do you run the human world?”

“No. No I do not.”

Finally, Mammon escapes whatever punishment Lucifer’s got him caught up in and tried to get MC involved in something that’ll probably make them lose their money.

Mini HC! A demon’s wings, tail, or horns might pop out randomly if they aren’t paying attention! The demon doesn’t even need to be in their true demonic form for this to happen. It happens more often with younger demons like MC!

Mammon stops his little scheme when he notices that MC’s wings have popped out and left a few stray feathers lying about... he can hear the CHA CHING sound already.

Our favourite dummy tried to Mission Impossible his way into MC’s room but MC caught him trying to make off with some loose feathers after they came back with a dustpan to clean them up.

Eventually, it was dinner time, and Levi was still camped out in his room. Mammon got sent to get him out, and he decided to drag MC along with him.

“I don’t think we should bother him-”

“Sh! We gotta get him out of his stupid room or he’s gonna stay in there until the exchange year’s over.” Mammon snapped, stopping in front of Leviathan’s door.

“I still don’t think we should-”

Mammon rudely interrupted poor, aghast MC by slamming his fists against the door. “LEVI! GET UP! DINNER’S READY!”

The only response was someone increasing the volume on whatever show was playing behind the door. Wow, petty. MC suppressed a snort until they realized exactly what they were hearing.

Was that...

“Is that the Sailor Moon theme?” MC turned to Mammon and asked. The moment the question left their lips the pair heard someone practically bolt to the door. It swung open and hit Mammon right in the face.

“MOTHER FUCKER-”

“You!”

Ah, so this was the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. MC didn’t know that track pants and headphones were a part of the uniform.

“You like anime?!” Levi asked, MC slowly nodded.

“Y-yeah..?”

Quick as lightning, MC was pulled into the room, and Levi slammed the door shut, tragically, the door hit Mammon again.

“LEVI YOU ASS-”

Leviathan didn’t seem too interested in Mammon’s chorus of curse words and angry knocks, he was grabbing some figurines off shelves and showing some to MC.

“Do you know who this is?!”

“That’s White Blood Cell from Cells at Work. What about Mamm-”

“How about this!”

“Violet Evergarden from the show of the same name, now Levia-”

“Whose this?!”

“LEVIATHAN!” MC stomped their foot and pointed at the door. “Mammon said we need to go eat dinner.”

“Don’t interrupt me, human!” Levi hissed, MC rolled their eyes and snorted.

“Nice to meet you, by the way.” MC crossed their arms and let their wings appear and puff up behind them.

“...w-whu-WHAT?!”

“We have to go to-” MC was cut off yet again by Levi passing out. Wow... what a day...

Mammon was still pounding on the door, MC rolled their eyes and opened it.

“He passed out, can you carry him?”

Mammon was decidedly not careful with his dear little brother when he dragged him out of his room and into the dining room. When Levi finally woke up, he got an earful from Lucifer, and tried to kill Mammon.

Apparently money was owed that Mammon wasn’t about to pay.

So yeah, MC and Levi’s alliance did not stem from desperation, it stems from otaku-camaraderie.

MC and Levi planned their credit-card hostage situation over a fun evening of watching anime.

Mammon never knew what hit him...

“Okay Mammon, pay up or your credit card gets cut up.” MC playfully opened and closed the scissors before poising them to cut up the helpless credit card. Mammon let out a shriek and shook his head.

“NONONONONO- don’t do that!” Mammon put his hands up and let out a nervous laugh. “MC... wh-what’s with all the animosity..? We’re buddies, right?”

MC snorted and rolled their eyes. “Buddies don’t try and make money off each other’s feathers.”

“You heard them, Mammon.” Levi snickered. “Pay me back the money you owe me!”

“I don’t have the money right now!”

MC shook their head. “Pity... oh well, bye bye Goldie-”

“The money’s in my sock drawer- just please put the scissors down!”

They slowly lowered the scissors. “What do you think, Levi?”

“Hmmm... you have two minutes.” Levi said, Mammon took off in a sprint out of the kitchen.

“Nice job Agent L!” MC chirped, holding their hand out for a high five, Levi looked positively elated and gleefully hit his hand against MC’s.

“We did it! I’m finally going to have enough money to go to the live show! Couldn’t have done it without your help, Agent Near.”

“Wait- why am I Near?” MC asked. “You get to be L and I have to be Near?”

Levi crossed his arms and huffed. “Would you rather be Mellow?”

“No! I want to be Light! We agreed that I’d be Light!” MC hissed. Levi, literally hissed back.

Rude.

Anyway, Levi got paid, and everyone had a very entertaining breakfast. Well, Mammon didn’t have a very good time, but boo hoo he should have paid Levi back sooner.

I think MC felt legitimately bad for Mammon, all the insults and jabs being aimed at him made MC feel a little guilty...

MC took care to be extra sweet that day, and it made Mammon feel a bit better. You know what made both of them feel amazing?

Screwing with the dipshits that were talking crap about the two of them.

MC didn’t need super-hearing to notice that some of the demons at RAD found it to be peak comedy that Mammon got slapped with babysitting duty.

“...do you want to mess with them?”

“What?”

“Too late, I’m doing it with or without you.”

Mammon was totally in, obviously. A little magic to move some of the lesser demons’ things around and voila! They were all at each other’s throats and Mammon and MC got to enjoy a fun lunchtime show!

The Purgatory Hall crew got to meet MC too, of course!

“And this,” Lucifer gestured to MC. “Is the other human exchange student.”

MC popped up from behind one of the rows of desks and gave the three newcomers a toothy grin. “Nice to meet you!”

Simeon’s calm and serene expression dropped almost immediately as he quickly looked from Lucifer to MC. The latter just gave him an innocent smile and tilted their head.

“Is something the matter?” MC asked, through the corner of their eye they saw Lucifer smirk slightly.

“N...” Simeon snapped back to reality. “No, nothing’s the matter, it’s nice to meet you, MC.”

“You awful demons!” A much younger voice yapped. “You brought a human child down here?! Shame on you!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I’m overwhelmed with guilt, put me out of my misery.”

“Oh!” MC gasped. “You’re the chihuahua!”

“Wh-what?!”

“What?” MC shook their head and shrugged. “What’s the matter with me being a kid? You look like you’re ten.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m well over-”

“Am I just going to go ignored?” The third and final stranger asked, a cheeky/very suspicious looking grin on his face.

“Right, you.” Lucifer sighed. “This is Solomon, another human exchange student.”

“It’s nice to finally meet the other... human exchange student.” Solomon offered a nod.

“Likewise.” MC pretended not to notice the pause before he said human.

The first bell that meant “haul your ass to next period because if the cleaning staff finds you skipping class you will be maimed” sounded. MC slung their bag over their shoulder and brushed past their fellow students.

“Have a nice rest of your day, everyone!” MC chirped as they and Lucifer headed off to their next class.

“What do you stand to gain by pretending you aren’t my child?” Lucifer asked.

MC snickered. “It’s funny! Didn’t you see their faces?”

Lucifer half smiled and shook his head. “Perhaps.”

—————

“That kid is Lucifer’s.” Solomon said the moment Lucifer and MC were out of earshot.

“Oh thank heavens someone else saw too... I thought I was going crazy...” Simeon sighed in relief.

“Hey! We’ll be late to class if you guys don’t hurry!” Luke called from down the hall.

Solomon chuckled under his breath. “This whole year just got way more interesting...”

A lot of MC’s time got devoted to getting to know their newly found family.

Satan was proving to be very... polite? Almost weirdly so? He’d address MC like he would address a formal acquaintance, not like one would address a family member... or even a roommate.

MC tried the delicate dance of trying to respect his boundaries and trying to get him to like them...

Once the glasses incident happened everything kinda caved. MC had been quite rudely shunned by Satan and they were quite done trying to be his friend! Hmph!

...hmph :(

At least Beel was nice... despite MC being a little intimidated by his size and resting bitch face, MC soon found out that Beel was a massive cinnamon roll.

In return for all the snacks Beel shared with MC, they introduced him to at least five human world cooking shows.

“MC, why is the music so dramatic? They’re just revealing the cooking supplies.”

“It’s a reality TV thing... everything is 10 times more dramatic than it needs to be. The music’s doing its job though, I’m very impressed by that pie dish.”

Overall, MC’s first week at RAD was pretty decent! Until... well... until Friday.

MC could only hide their demonic side for so long...

“That’s them?”

MC slowed their steps and turned to look for the source of the voice.

“Yep.” A second voice confirmed. “Human kid, like I said.”

Ugh... of all the times to have needed to stay late after school... the hallway MC was in was completely empty and they had no clue where anyone they actually knew was-

“Boo.”

MC whirled around to see the two gossiping demons standing right behind them. They instinctively took a few steps back before the taller of the two demons grabbed them by the wrist and yanked them forward.

“Geez, are all humans this tiny?” The taller one asked as he slowly lifted MC off the ground. MC fixed him with the nastiest glare possible, he tried to scowl back, but ended up looking away and laughing to the shorter demon. “Look at them, barely enough for a snack, no wonder Beel hasn’t eaten them yet.”

Turning to the shorter demon, MC gave them a similar glare. “Put me down.”

“Tsk, quiet.” The taller demon snapped, he turned back to the shorter demon. “So if we just nab them now, how much do you think someone’ll take for their soul?”

“I-uh...” the shorter demon couldn’t pry their gaze away from MC’s as they tried to sputter a response. “I don’t think we should...”

“Why not? The exchange program’s still in its trial phase anyway, we kill this human and they’ll just bring in another one.”

The way he was speaking about them made MC’s skin crawl. How dare he? How dare he talk about them like they were just common trash? Who did this... person think he was?

An old familiar feeling bubbled beneath the surface. It had always been there, the intense, sometimes overwhelming desire to let the whole world know that they were better. The feeling coiled its way up MC’s spine and wormed its way into their head where it settled.

“You can’t be spoken to like that.”

Every single time this feeling had flared up, MC had done their best to suppress it. They didn’t know what would happen if they gave in, and frankly, they didn’t want to know.

“Let them know you’re not to be trifled with.”

The burning desire to crush the two demons like ants was almost impossible to ignore. MC felt their hands twitch and sparks snap between their fingertips.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” MC growled. “Put. Me. Down.”

“Human,” the taller demon turned back and cooed, his mocking tone made MC want to rip his throat out. “I said be quiet.”

His grip on MC’s wrist tightened until a sickening crack echoed through the empty hallway.

Bile immediately rose in MC’s throat as they let out an earsplitting scream. Their wrist seared in pain and their heart began to race hammer against their ribcage.

The desire to give in only grew and became harder to control, MC could feel themselves slipping. The feeling only had one simple question to ask, one that MC knew the answer to.

“Are you going to let them get away with that?”

Their face morphed into a cheek splitting grin despite the pain, their head tilted to the left as they stared down the two demons.

“No.”

Horns twisted and burst out of their skull as they dug their rapidly sharpening nails into the demon’s arm. Their teeth grew and sharpened while formerly hidden fangs burst through their upper gums. The agonizing pain of their bones growing, snapping, and shifting in and out of place as their demonic form took hold for the first time numbed as MC revelled in their new power.

Through the reflection in the taller demon’s horrified stare, MC could see their pupils stretch into almost catlike slits. He dropped them onto the floor while he and the shorter demon backed up. MC’s impossibly wide smile only grew as they watched the realization dawn upon the lesser demon as he stitched together what he had just done. The human he had decided to bother wasn’t quite so human after all.

“Oh?” MC cooed as their wings split through their back and unfurled behind them. “Where do you think you two are going? We haven’t even gotten started yet.”

—————

Lucifer was jolted from his conversation by a sharp blast of blue light and the sound of screams from a nearby hallway. He instinctively rolled his eyes.

“Lord Diavolo, pardon me but I need to go deal with a disturbance in the halls.” Lucifer said, Diavolo sighed mournfully on the other end of the call.

“Alright, if you must, but make sure to come over later! There are events that need to be scheduled.”

Lucifer knew full well that Diavolo was making half of the school events up as an excuse for basic social interaction. Oh well, it wasn’t the time to think on his prince’s social woes, he had a problem to solve.

How many times did he have to tell some of those idiotic students to take their petty squabbles outside?

Lucifer made his way over to where the fight was happening, he wasn’t walking with particular urgency, a fight on school property wasn’t too unusual, until a massive shockwave spilled through the hallways and slammed into him.

The Avatar of Pride felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up, that was his magical signature... wasn’t it? No, it was just different enough...

“Dammit.” Lucifer doubled his pace, when he reached the end of the hallway, the sight was just what he feared.

MC stood straight in the middle of the hallway with their back to him, two other demons were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground, one was next to an incredibly dented row of lockers while the other was lying next to an almost completely broken drinking fountain.

Lucifer’s own true form was out in a flash as MC turned to look at him. their eyes glowing a shining blue. Their lips curled into a snarl as they let out an otherworldly growl.

“Go away.”

“MC, calm yourself down.” Lucifer said slowly as he approached them. “Return to your normal form.”

The half demon bowed their head slightly and took a few steps back as he stepped closer. Lucifer almost patted himself on the back for such a show of authority, until MC paused and looked up defiantly. The glow in their eyes doubled as any sense of fear left them completely.

“I said, GO AWAY!”

They lunged at him, which he easily sidestepped, only for MC to quickly turn and latch their claws into his arm.

The child packed a surprising amount of force into their strikes, but he was able to block and redirect almost every single one. If this were any normal fight, Lucifer would have just swatted them away and have been done with it, but this wasn’t any ordinary opponent.

MC was his child, the exchange student, and going through their first transformation. They weren’t exactly rational or directly responsible for any of their actions at that moment.

During a first transformation the demon is almost completely relying on base instincts to function, they’ll go completely ballistic for a while, trying to tear through anything in their way until they run out of energy and pass out. Which is why during a demon’s first transformation usually happened much earlier in their lives under the watchful eyes of parents or guardians.

It was clear to anyone with even casual knowledge of demons that MC had fully given themselves over to their pride and wouldn’t stop trying to prove their superiority until they passed out.

Even though Lucifer was blocking and avoiding most of the blows, MC had managed to get in a few good scratches.

They snapped at Lucifer’s right hand, narrowly missing it and aimed their elbow at his jaw. Almost casually batting the hit away, he hissed in frustration.

“Damn it... MC, control yourself!”

MC snarled and sloppily lunged forward, only for Lucifer to use his wings to bat them to the side. They slid across the floor, their glasses falling off and skidding away from them. MC lay still for a few moments, their chest rising and falling rapidly.

Lucifer stood in place, waiting for any sudden movement. For a few moments, the hallway was quiet, save for the massive gulps of air MC was taking and the occasional groan of pain from one of the demons on the floor. MC slowly sat up and blinked a few times, then looked from side to side.

Something important dawned on Lucifer, he didn’t know just how blind MC was without their glasses.

MC’s rapid breathing began to slow as they continued to squint and search the area around them for their glasses. Lucifer almost audibly sighed in relief as the blue glow in his child’s eyes began to dull.

“MC.” Lucifer allowed his demon form to disappear as he slowly moved towards them, making sure MC could hear him approaching.

The half demon stopped scanning the area for their glasses and looked up at him, they awkwardly covered a yawn with their hand as their wings sleepily fluttered behind them. It would have been much cuter if MC wasn’t spattered with blood.

Lucifer slowly offered his hand, which MC eyed suspiciously. “Come on, let’s go.”

MC blinked a few times, then yawned again and awkwardly accepted his hand. “Mmph... m’tired...”

“That’s good,” Lucifer said quietly. “Everything’s okay.”

MC half nodded and awkwardly stumbled as they tried to find their footing. Lucifer tried to help steady them, but it proved ineffective as MC collapsed into his arms. Sighing, he picked them up and began to walk back to the House of Lamentation.

Just before leaving the school, Lucifer passed by Simeon and Solomon, who looked from MC, who had curled their wings around themselves and was sleeping soundly, to Lucifer, who had a few scratch marks on his face and whose hair was a complete mess.

“Ah, you two, one of you do me a favour.” Lucifer said as he brushed past them. “One of you go to the biology hallway and pick up MC’s glasses.”

Simeon and Solomon nodded and mumbled out an affirmation as Lucifer left the school with MC. Hmph, it seemed MC was right, their confused/shocked faces were quite funny.

MC woke up the next morning with the worst muscle pain they had ever and hopefully would ever feel. On the bright side, their wrist wasn’t broken anymore :D

They had literally built their true form. Their skeleton just stretched and rearranged itself, horns grew out from their cranium, their wings broke through their back and a new set of fangs decided to break through their gums... and then all of that new stuff was gone as MC lay in bed in their normal form like a deflated beach ball.

Not wanting to seem like a wimp, MC dragged themselves to breakfast, and everyone was all: “MC, go back to bed, you can’t do anything when you’re like this.”

“Quiet, I’m fine.”

“MC, if you’re fine, then give Beel a high five, make sure it makes the slap sound.”

“Alright then, Beel, come here.”

Beel didn’t exactly think to take MC’s shorter stature into account when holding up his hand for a high five. He’s tall, okay?

MC then proceeded to grit their teeth and try not to scream as they lifted their arm to weakly hit their hand against Beel’s.

“It made the noise..!”

“No it didn’t, I didn’t hear it.”

“Fatherrrr!”

“Couldn’t hear it, go back upstairs.”

When MC trudged upstairs, Asmo practically squealed and pointed out that MC had called Lucifer father for the first time. It’s a shame no one took a picture of happy/surprised Lucifer.

Side note: after the whole event calmed down, Lucifer was crazy proud that his kid kicked the asses of two grown demons.

Funnily enough, this incident is what kickstarted MC and Luke’s friendship! Luke heard MC got into a fight and brought over get-well cookies! Sure... Beel, Mammon and Levi stole most of the cookies but they were still good!

At school on Monday... hooooooo boy... the two demons that tried to kill MC had lived to tell the tale thanks to MC getting distracted by Lucifer, and now the entire student body knew NOT to fuck with MC.

A few weeks into the exchange year, things had settled into a somewhat normal routine... until one really shitty night in particular.

MC was curled up in bed, their new comforter and sheets were a pain to put in, but they suited MC’s taste much better than the pink that had been there previously. Sighing in contentment, MC felt themselves drifting off to sleep-

Mother fucker who was texting at the ungodly hour of 10:30 pm on a Sunday? ‘Twas the lord’s day and the lord of the house stated that everyone needed to get their asses to bed at a reasonable hour.

MC picked up their phone and put on their glasses. After being blinded by the light of the phone for a brief moment, MC read the text.

Not-Rich Uncle Pennybags 💰🕶: Oi! MC! U want a snack?

Not-Rich Uncle Pennybags💰🕶: I’m in the kitchen! Get down here!

After debating whether or not to throw Mammon to the wolves and rat him out, MC decided that they did in fact want a snack and hopped out of bed to go to the kitchen.

“Hey kiddo!” Mammon said through a mouthful of something in a container, a loose note hung limply from a piece of tape that was stuck on the Tupperware. “Next time, hurry it up, got it? Ya can’t keep me waitin’ like this!”

“Mm...” MC grumbled, rubbing their eyes and looking around the kitchen. “What are you eating?”

“Custard!” Mammon smiled brightly. “Ya gotta try this!”

Oooo, custard! MC grabbed a spoon and practically skipped over to try some. Right before they were about to try a bit of the heavenly deliciousness, MC paused and finally caught a glimpse of what the note said.

‘Property of Beelzebub, you eat it, you die.’

Uh oh-

———————

Okay, the next few bits of this WILL come out in order, I promise! Kinda... not really... eh... but it matters not! I hope you all enjoyed this! I didn’t leave you with a cliffhanger this time considering Lessons 5-6 are already out ^_^

So uh- wanna fight the demons that tried to hurt MC? I’m bringing the pitchforks, who’s driving?

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (2)

warnings: mild blood/violence/injury, demon slaying, miscommunication, impromptu first aid, mentions of spiders, virgil tempting fate with his internal dialogue again

-

Whenever Virgil wasn’t sleeping, he was on the move.

At first, it had been because he didn’t trust himself around towns for too long, and there was always the chance of a real demon slayer getting wind of that ridiculous rumor and trying to track him down and kill him for it, even though it totally wasn’t his fault.

But then, as time went on, his bizarre pseudo-popularity seemed to have a different side effect.

Namely, every time he managed to save another human and hauled them back to the nearest town, he’d be practically swarmed. Antsy townsfolk would hurriedly inform him of the horrible tragedy they’d heard about up north, or the mysterious disappearances by the woods between this town and the neighboring one, or any sort of rumor that they thought a “demon slayer” should know about.

Where exactly were all the real demon slayers when people needed them? Why was he, an actual demon, seemingly more accessible for seeking help?!

Still, he wasn’t exactly doing anything else with his life (his unlife?), and if there were less demons, that meant the world would be safer for Thomas, didn’t it? So off he went, taking the less-traveled paths and following vague leads right into more danger.

His latest case had been a requested one, from a weaver in the last town. She had received a letter from her brother saying that he planned to come visit, and weeks later, he still hadn’t appeared or replied to her many return messages. The worry seemed to weigh her down like a physical burden, and he’d agreed perhaps more easily than normal.

Now, he was wedged into a shallow crevice in the mountainside and sorely regretting that decision.

The issue wasn’t the demon, no. He’d actually been making good progress on getting deeper and deeper into its territory in the past few days.

The issue was that he wasn’t the only one hunting it.

First, it had been a gaggle of young teens, and he’d been so alarmed that he’d almost dropped right out of the trees and ushered them back out of the woods. The less humans traipsing around this deep in demon territory, the better.

Of course, that was when he’d managed to spot the swords strapped to their sides, and suddenly, never appearing before a human again was looking more and more appealing. He’d immediately switched gears from tracking to stealth, and honestly, should have just turned tail and left then.

Instead, because those kids were around Thomas’s age and he still needed to find that weaver’s brother and also he was a sentimental idiot, he trailed them at a distance, always staying downwind and poised to bolt.

They handled themselves well at the beginning, and then the environment began to warp around them, and then it turned out there was more than one demon nesting here, and Virgil had been on the brink of jumping down and interfering, swords or no swords, when--

Between one blink and the next, one of the demons was cleanly beheaded.

The demon slayer-- for what else could he be-- smiled brilliantly as the body disintegrated to ash, holding a hand out to help one of the teens to their feet.

“It seemed like you all could use a little assistance,” he’d said, turning to face one of the other demons with a confidence that visibly unsettled it. Above, a circling crow cried out raspily. “My dear Missus informed me of your call for backup.”

If the stranger’s swift execution hadn’t tipped Virgil off, the way the baby slayers looked up at him with blatant awe was clue enough. This slayer was powerful and charismatic, whereas Virgil was neither of those things, so he was going to stay right here in his crevice until the whole situation had sorted itself out.

The three other demons seemed to have no such qualms, lunging at him in a semi-coordinated attack. The slayer handled them with terrifying ease, and for a moment it seemed that the battle had been settled, as simple as that.

Of course, that was when the landscape twisted further in on itself, buzzing like a disturbed wasps nest, and Virgil realized abruptly that this was the first time he’d seen so many feral, newly-created demons in one territory.

A stronger demon was keeping them all in line, like the queen of a hive. And it wasn’t at all pleased about the intrusion.

The slayer seemed to have caught on as well, his sword held aloft in threat. “Looks like the real fight starts now,” he said with a sharp, cocky grin.

Mere minutes later, the smile had grown considerably more strained.

Coincidentally, he’d taken considerably more damage in that time as well.

The slayer had given as good as he got, but against a demon’s healing factor, it wasn’t good enough. He was losing.

“Get out of here!” he instructed, and the baby slayers hesitated, clearly torn. He shot them a dazzling grin, hiding all signs of fatigue even as another blow rattled his sword. “Come now, don’t you know an order when you hear one? I don’t want any distractions while I handle this gruesome ghoul, so back to town with you!”

He cut off any further arguments by pointedly leading his attacker astray, giving them ample time to flee. Virgil felt some of the tension fade from him as the baby slayers got away cleanly, leaving just the slayer and the queen.

Really, he shouldn’t want the slayer to survive. Not when having a slayer that strong anywhere near him, or even in the same country as him, could easily be a death sentence. That didn’t change the jolt of panic that went through him when the queen finally gained the upper hand, knocking the slayer back into sheer cliff face hard enough to snap something.

… A slayer that protected others from demons so wholeheartedly was one that would protect Thomas.

The queen advanced towards the slayer, wounded and weakened but already gloating about how his flesh would be more than enough to completely rejuvenate her. Her entire focus was on the human’s fallen form.

Virgil dropped down on top of her soundlessly, claws piercing through muscle and fat until he’d torn her nearly clear in half. She shrieked in outrage, but a skull-crushing stomp was enough to knock her unconscious for at least a few moments.

The slayer, exhausted, half-crumpled against a tree, and his shoulder very clearly dislocated, looked up at him for a moment with something like hope.

When they met eyes, however, that was swiftly extinguished in favor of wary frustration.

“Another demon?” he complained, trying rather unsubtly to grasp for the sword that the queen had knocked free of him. “Exactly how many monsters can one fit on a single mountain?”

The sword was entirely out of reach, but Virgil kicked it a little further away for good measure. The slayer shot him a petulant glare.

Virgil pointed at a scrap of bloodied cloth left behind from one of the baby slayers, trying out a questioning rumble. Backup coming for you?

“I’m offended that you think I would answer that,” the slayer responded, nose upturned, “or any other monosyllabic interrogative questions, for that matter.”

Virgil growled low in his throat, frustration bubbling up. If he ditched the slayer here without backup, there was no guarantee that someone would find him before the morning came, and Virgil was relatively sure that the demon he’d just stabbed through wasn’t the only threat up here.

Not to mention the cold. He hadn’t thought the nights were cold enough to harm people yet, but demons seemed a lot more durable, and the slayer was shaking just slightly. He remembered the few times he’d had to sit out snowstorms while traveling back home up the mountain, and couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

So, leaving the slayer behind to fend for himself wasn’t an option. That meant doing something insanely, dangerously stupid: taking the guy with him.

Precautions first, then. He was pretty good at hiding himself from other demons by now, but human scents were a lot more trackable.

Virgil scooped the slayer sword up off the ground by the hilt, grimacing at the burning sensation it emitted. The slayer’s jaw dropped.

“Hey! You can’t just take that!” he cried indignantly, starting off on a tirade about craftsmanship and integrity. His rant cut off sharply as Virgil raised the sword and brought it down on the queen’s neck.

His motions were stilted compared to anyone who actually knew how to use a sword, but it hardly mattered. The sun-blade cut through easily, decapitating her in one motion and leaving only ash behind. He took a moment to hope for the soul of whoever she’d been before being turned, and a longer moment for the weaver’s brother, who was surely dead. Exhaling lowly, he planted the sword blade-first in the dirt.

It was tempting to keep it; he’d certainly wished more than once for an easier way to deal with his adversaries than the bloody scraps he normally got in, but there was no way he was bringing a demon slayer and a demon killing sword with him. That was just asking for trouble.

“That demon did all the work in an honest fight against me, and yet it’s the backstabber turning against his own kind who actually gets to eat me? That’s sad, even for a demon,” the slayer bit out, still trying to inch his way back up into a standing position.

Virgil ignored his muttering and took a testing breath in through his mouth. The slayer was definitely bloodied, but most of the major injuries mustn’t have broken skin, because the smell wasn’t too bad. It probably helped that he’d managed to avoid being injured in this fight, and so didn’t have a desperate need to heal like normal. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t even need a nap to make up for it.

He reached out for the slayer’s collar, already mentally plotting out the most efficient way to a distant abandoned bear den when a piercing shriek sounded, and his vision was suddenly full of flapping feathers. He staggered a few steps back with a surprised yelp.

“No! Missus Fluffybottom, you beautiful fool!” the slayer cried out, sounding incredibly distraught.

Virgil swatted outwards and managed to catch his furious assailant on the second try, his hand easily big enough to grasp it. He drew it away from his face for inspection, and realized that the screaming and wriggling bundle of fluff was actually a young crow.

“Scourge! Fiend!” the crow yelled at him in a belligerent tone that was uncannily similar to the slayer’s. He blinked down at it, befuddled.

“Wait! Don’t hurt her,” the slayer said in the most subdued voice Virgil had heard from him all evening. He looked up and found that the slayer had managed to climb to his knees, but wasn’t struggling to move further. “She’s a simple bird, no threat to you. You’ve already got your prize, haven’t you?”

There was something uncomfortably desperate in his gaze, and Virgil realized with a start that the slayer absolutely believed he was about to kill his bird in cold blood. He opened his hand, bracing for another assault, but the crow kicked off and flew right to the slayer instead, nestling against his collarbone. “Roman, Roman, Ro-man!” it crooned.

“Get out of here, you finicky little fowl, go! Shoo!” the slayer-- Roman?-- commanded, to no avail. He glanced up at Virgil, lifting his good hand and turning his bad shoulder slightly as though to shield the little creature.

Virgil averted his eyes from the bird, hopefully conveying how much he didn’t care about her. If he had enough self control to not murder-kill people despite it being all monsters like him wanted to do, he wasn’t going to snap because a bird the size of his palm repeated some swears in his direction.

Back to business. He grabbed the back of the slayer’s outfit and pulled, hauling him up onto one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. … Or like a sack of other, non-food items. Virgil sighed through his nose. Whatever.

Roman sucked a breath in through his teeth as his injuries were jostled, and then immediately started squawking in protest upon realizing the indignity of his position. The crow-- apparently dubbed Fluffybottom-- repositioned herself to a perch on Roman’s calf and joined in on the complaints with her own raspy calls.

Virgil ignored them, already focusing on the trek ahead.

---

By the time they reached the cave, Roman had long stopped muttering creative obscenities under his breath.

The slayer might have actually fallen unconscious, but Virgil wasn’t going to jostle him around just to check. If he stopped focusing on their surroundings, he could easily hear Roman’s heart beating, the blood pumping beneath his skin, tantalizingly out of reach--

… He had mostly focused very hard on their surroundings. The point was, the slayer was definitely still alive, which meant him passing out during their travel was fine. Convenient, even.

It certainly made it easier to squat and carefully lower his body onto the cave floor without worrying about any sudden thrashing on Roman’s part. Laying flat on his back with only the slightest crumple to his brow, the guy looked a lot less intimidating. He was probably Virgil’s age, honestly.

He also looked unsettlingly corpse-like at the moment. Virgil considered for a moment, and then sidled over to Roman’s side, tugging his injured arm out of the curled up position it had taken. He carefully maneuvered it until it was straight out, forming a right angle with Roman’s side.

Then, he pulled, applying a slow, steady pressure. The misaligned bone shifted back into place with a sickening clunk, and Roman cried out as he regained consciousness. Virgil released him, and he instantly cradled the limb to his chest.

“What in the name of--,” he started, and then seemed to remember it all at once. Or the wave of pain from all those other injuries hit him all at once. One of the two.

Either way, he sagged back against the ground, squinting at Virgil suspiciously as he bustled around the small space. Missus Fluffybottom landed on his forehead, making him look even more ridiculous.

“I notice I am not devoured,” he finally spoke, almost conversational.

Virgil ignored him in favor of moving to arrange some firewood near the mouth of the cave.

“Not even a teensy bit,” Roman continued, making a show of inspecting himself for missing flesh.

Virgil continued to stack rocks around the wood. He was beginning to regret waking the slayer up, dislocated shoulder or not.

“Now, my silent saboteur, I want you to be honest. Are you planning to turn me into some sort of spider?” the slayer asked, and that was enough to finally make Virgil turn with an incredulous raised eyebrow.

“What?” Roman defended, pinkening. “That’s a real thing that a demon did to some people! And you seem... spider-y.”

Virgil scowled at the insulting way the comment was phrased. Spiders were cool and helpful and oh yeah, they didn’t annoyingly needle him while he was busy keeping them alive. He abandoned the fire to stalk closer and drop to a squat by Roman’s legs, dodging a wild kick easily. He pointedly tore a long swath of white fabric from the slayer’s overlayer.

“Hey! Do you even know how long embroidery like that takes--,” Roman cried, and Virgil smacked a hand over his mouth, drawing close and hissing quietly. The sound was close enough to a shush to get his point across, going by the way the slayer huffed indignantly but didn’t speak when Virgil pulled his hand away.

He did whine in protest when Virgil grabbed his injured arm, but then he went still and silent, like he thought any sudden movements would end with the whole limb removed. Virgil wrapped his forearm in the fabric, and then looped the extra around his shoulder, maneuvering him as painlessly as possible, and tied it off.

Roman’s silence suddenly felt distinctly different.

Virgil pulled him up into a sitting position by the front of his shirt, and tightened the knot slightly. The sling looked just about as good as could be expected, given the circumstances.

“You are actually a demon, aren’t you?”

Speech was one of those human things that Virgil still hadn’t recovered, but he thought that the sarcastic fang-bearing smile he directed at Roman spoke volumes all on its own.

“Then why are you tenderly nursing a demon slayer back to health?” he retorted, sounding bewildered and incredulous in equal measures.

Why are you pushing your luck? Virgil thought back, clicking his teeth in irritation and shoving the slayer back into a prone position.

Roman let out a high pitched wheeze, his good arm coming to cradle his ribs defensively. “Or not-so-tenderly, I suppose. The question stands!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and returned to the half-built fire. He’d pestered the only doctor in town for first aid lessons for months, he wasn’t going to stop practicing medicine just because of a little thing like being turned into a demon that craved human flesh.

To his surprise, the silence lingered as he worked, long enough that he turned and cast a suspicious glare over his shoulder at the slayer, who jolted nervously at his attention.

“Wh-what?” he asked, fiddling with the torn edges of his sling. “No escape attempts here, haha!”

“...” Virgil squinted at him and his blatant fake laugh for a long moment, trying to figure out just what was wrong with the scene.

Wait. Where was the bird?

A chill ran down his spine, and he twisted to stare at the mountainside beyond the cave entrance. No raspy-voiced baby crows in sight.

It had to have gone for help, knowing exactly where Virgil and its slayer had holed up. Roman knew he’d realized it, was watching him with the wary expectancy of a cornered hare in front of a trapper.

A surge of furious panic did bubble up in the back of Virgil’s mind, but he quelled it with relative ease.

If backup was coming, then the human was no longer his problem.

Pleased at the neat way the situation had resolved itself, Virgil tapped two fingers to his temple in a gesture of farewell and scrambled out the cave, scaling the cliff face and resolving to put as much distance between himself and this region as possible.

With any luck, he’d never run into that particular slayer again.