#trans shining armor

[cultleadur]

FTM SHINING. FTM SHINING.

[apollo-not-in-space]

@mushtoons THANK YOU SM FOR LETTING ME USE LEONA!! I would actually both die and kill for her she is such a baby girl and I love her sm

[fruitypiestims]

Pony pins! 💖

[moth---4]

t4t horsies

[bizarreaizen]

mlp headcanons !! ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ /gen

[soni-dragon]

cadence and shining armor, been doodling a lot of these guys the past few weeks :)

[thequeenofthestorm]

Pixel Art MegaDump

aka wtf I’ve been doing

Oh right, art. I was going to post that here again. Uhhhhh here’s an art dump of a bunch of art from the last few months!

First, we have a new Terraria rendition of my armor!

It even comes with an (actually decently) animated plume!

I also got onto another mod team for Ragnarok! I made some helmets for Calamity’s god slayer and silva armors: godslayer getting bard wnd silva getting healer. The mod is meant to be a mod to bring calamity and thorium progression together!

I don’t know how well they’ll show up because I’m making this on mobile. If they suck I’ll reblog with better quality

I also redid my Hallowed armor in the paladin’s pack! I’m no fan of Calamity’s artstyle, but their new auric tesla armor has definitely helped me with shading plate armor!

Next is something not from Terraria: my aasimar redemption paladin Adena! Outfitted in ornate plate armor, she’s willing to lay down her life if it means saving the life of another (this is totally not due to the dm traumatizing her with campaign events)

Her armor is also in my Terraria texture pack as alternate hallowed armor, which replaces ancient hallowed armor

Squire and Valhalla Knight got replaced with the Countess and Dragon Commander from Dungeon Defenders 2!

Finally, here’s some extra sprites from a bit longer ago that idk if I posted here or not!

[couldtransitionsaveher]

SHINING ARMOR from MY LITTLE PONY

JUSTIFICATION:

"I just think it would be neat." - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

[snowysoul-squrirel]

I've seen the "Ugly groom and Beautiful bride" of Cadance and Shining going around, trans is also trending, so I propose

Trans Masc Shining Armor and Transfemme Princess Cadance or! Trans femme Shining and Trans masc Cadance

[pegartisus]

probably not going to do much else with this, so here's a Shining Armor design! he's a bisexual trans stallion!

[bejeweled-wahlberg]

I decided to draw some more of the Helluva boss au

First picture is a reference from @thegothiicprince on Twitter

And second one is shining armor as sallie May (TRANS SHINING)

[unironicallyabrony]

Princess Cadance and Shining Armor are t4t btw

[mandoriana]

I imagined a story, where Arthur was born a woman, but Uther wanted an heir and forced his daughter to be a boy. However, Arthur is not trans; she is not a boy, even having muscles, wearing pants and armor, or even working with the knights. Arthur is a woman, and looking in the mirror and seeing a man is torture for her. No one besides Gaius and Uther knows about this. Morgana suspects that Arthur is gay but doesn’t know that Arthur just wants to be seen and looked at as a woman in the same way Morgana is seen. Basically, it’s a body dysphoria that many transgender people experience.

Since Arthur was always raised as a man, she doesn’t have a feminine name and hates being called Arthur, so she insists that everyone calls her Sir or Prince (I don’t know about outside my country, but Sir and Prince in Brazil are neutral names/nicknames).

When Merlin arrives in Camelot, he quickly clashes with Arthur and then saves her life, becoming the prince’s servant (Uther forgot that Arthur was a woman). At first, Merlin finds it strange that Arthur doesn’t let him help with anything, not being able to put away Arthur’s clothes, not helping her dress in normal clothes, only in armor, and not being allowed to wash her clothes sometimes (due to menstruation). Merlin also notices that the prince has strange behaviors, like staring too much at some ladies’ clothes like a pervert (Arthur was just envying the dress), getting more irritable and emotional once a month (PMS), and burning bloody cloths in the fireplace. Merlin saw this only once, and Arthur was so embarrassed that she kicked and yelled at Merlin to get out (medieval pads).

Anyway, Merlin starts to notice these details about Arthur while getting closer to the prince. One day (perhaps in the episode where Sophia enchants Arthur), Merlin needs to take care of an unconscious Arthur and decides to dress her in more comfortable clothes. When he opens the wardrobe, he is surprised to see feminine underwear and a crumpled dress hidden at the back. At first, he worries that he is serving a pervert, but he realizes there are no male underwear in Arthur’s wardrobe and starts to piece together that maybe the prince owns the feminine underwear. Merlin, always open-minded, decides it’s none of his business and grabs a soft white tunic that Arthur used to sleep in and goes to dress his prince, only to almost have a heart attack upon finding breasts instead of a muscular chest.

When Arthur wakes up and realizes someone changed her clothes, she panics and starts crying when she sees Merlin. She wanted to get angry and yell, but she can only beg Merlin not to tell anyone. Merlin approaches carefully and hugs Arthur, apologizing and saying it wasn’t his intention to hurt her and begging for forgiveness for violating her honor by seeing her body without permission. From then on, the two become even more inseparable than before. Merlin listens to what Uther forced Arthur to be and decides he will do everything in his power to make his PRINCESS the happiest woman in the world. Merlin starts spending his salary on dresses and corsets made to fit Arthur’s muscular body, starts calling Arthur by feminine pronouns when they are alone and neutral pronouns in public, refusing to call his princess by masculine pronouns. What I mean is that Merlin becomes the knight in shining armor that Arthur was forced to be, and Arthur finally gets to be the princess she always wanted to be.

I think the most exciting part I thought about this story was Merlin having the honor of naming Arthur, removing the name Uther forced on his heir and giving her a name worthy of the future Queen of Camelot. So one day, Arthur is wearing one of the dresses Merlin gave her and smiling at herself in the mirror, and Merlin calls her Astrid, making the princess cry because it was the first time in her life she felt like herself.

In the end, Merlin reveals his magic to Astrid, and Astrid reveals it to Morgana when Merlin tells her that Morgana has magic. This way, Morgana doesn’t become the villain, joining her beloved sister to overthrow Uther. It all ends with Astrid being crowned Queen, Morgana as the regent princess, and Merlin as the king

😊👐

[moonchemistry]

here's what it was all leading up to! my silly little next generation of MLP. more info about them under the cut because i can't help myself

ships:

fluttercord

appledash

cheesepie

twipie

shining armor / princess cadance??? whatever that's called

starlight / trixie / sunburst

derpy / dr whooves

sweetie belle / button mash

lore:

pandora is the oldest of the mid gang, jellybean is the youngest

anath is a student/apprentice of rarity, who initially they didnt get along for various reasons (do you notice i made them look as antithetical and unappealing to rarity as possibly) but now they see each other as family and rarity is a huge mother figure for her. rarity saw a lot of spike in anath and that was one of the reasons she started growing so close to her

zap apple wants to be the first earth pony to be in the wonderbolts. his older sister, aurora apple, desperately wants to get away from the family and just do her own thing

it took twilight and pinkie a long time to get together so thats why jellybean is the youngest lol. the poly relationship is twilight x pinkie and pinkie x cheese but not twilight x cheese

klaus is just some guy that pandora thinks is neat

pandora and anath cant stand each other

skyla is kind of in the group by proxy and because shes cousins w jellybean etc etc but she 1. lives in the crystal kingdom 2. kind of feels excluded sometimes because shes kind of just there cus their parents are all friends

on the other hand, lil' cheese and flurry heart are huge friends, despite the fact that flurry heart is prolly like 5 years or so older than him.

flurry heart and bundt cake dont rly know each other but lil cheese and bundt cake have been besties since they were born cus they were born around the same time and grew up together

silly string is trans. i didnt make her cape that color on purpose it was an accident but im going w it lol

silly string is the first pony to ever be born from 3 ppl and shes got some Things cus of it (dont ask me waht those are)

sudzy has heterochromia w a blue eye and yellow eye from both her parents

vanilla sweet is prolyl the hardest to identify here, shes sweetie belle x button mash, just mostly inherited her moms traits

fun fact these are all kind of based on designs I made when I was ten years old (of which will never see the light of day for various reasons)

[hanckocks-dagger]

Well fed

masterlist

John Hancock x trans masc!Reader

Description: After a scuffle on the road involving his knife, Hancock takes care of you.

Word count: 3.4K

Tags: smut!, oral (m recieving), knife play, praise kink, no pronouns used for reader but masculine nicknames (brother, good boy), no y/n, service top Hancock (or at least adjacent to it). He's whipped, bros

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood

Words used for reader's genitals: core, cunt, entrance

Requested by: @kin-of-kin

Crossposted on my ao3

Notes: I went for a bit more of a service top Hancock in this one. I do think he’s down for whatever, living life the way he does, but I also think he’a s big softie who just wants to take care of u and shower you with all the love he has. Smut starts right after the cut!

Also just because we’re all ghoul girlies (gn) here, I do want to let y’all know this was partly inspired by a pretty good blowbjob I gave, which was going fantastically until I suddenly got the worst bloody nose of my life, right in the middle. Ruined the mood a bit, but a funny story in hindsight. 

"So perfect for me, hmm?" Hancock's words came out half strangled, one hand trailing over to tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, still matted with blood and sweat.

You breathed through your nose, sinking further down his cock. Slick with saliva, the back and forth bob of your head was easy, the sure glide of him in your mouth. You felt him hit the back of your throat, hollowed your cheeks in an attempt to take it down better, desperate to pull as many sighs and moans as you can from him.

Down on your knees, on a leaf covered forest floor, the edges of your armor digging into your skin. It was easy to ignore, over the hum of your blood, the electricity that seemed to flow through you, the shocks of pleasure you felt every time Hancock uttered some breathless words.

Your hands itched to get a good grip on him, but you settled for holding onto his bare thighs, pants and underwear pulled down to his knees, letting you grab onto scarred skin every time he pushed your down just a bit further, digging your nails in as you choked,

You went down just a bit too far, having to pull back to gasp and retch, panting as your oxygen deprived brain tried to take what it needed. Hancock's hand grasped your hair hard, pulling you until your chin rose, so you were staring up at him, dark eyes meeting your own. Your chest heaved, you could feel the slick texture of spit on your lips and cheeks as you nuzzled his cock, shining in the low light, covered in your saliva.

Your hand moved to grasp him, but Hancock swatted your hand away gently, instead taking the opportunity to grab you by the chin, "Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

You nodded at him through heavy lidded eyes, desperate to regain your composure and get him back inside you, whether it be your mouth or further south. His hand moved to cup your cheek, a moment so sickeningly sweet you had to swallow a lump in your throat. You tucked your wet face into his palm, pressing a soft kiss there.

"You look so handsome down there, hmm?”

It seemed ridiculous to blush at such innocuous phrasing, but blush you did, face heating up to the tips of your ears. The eye contact made you shy, so you dropped your head back down to get him back in your mouth, his hands moving to grasp at your hair again.

You groaned against him when his fingers tugged, gentle pressure against your scalp shooting pleasure down your spine. His hands eased you forward, taking him gently further into your mouth, inch by inch.

You hollowed your cheeks, finding the right amount of pressure. It didn't take long to have him groaning against you again, whispering your name between swears and grunts, fingers occasionally slipping from your hair to caress your cheek.

"Shit- baby I'm gonna–"

You felt his hands back in your hair, tugging gently in an attempt to get you off, but you did the opposite, pressing down just that little bit deeper, fingernails pinching down into the meat of his thigh.

He came with a groan, shooting into your mouth. His cock alone had made you feel full, but as your mouth filled even more you found yourself gagging again. You pulled off with a slick pop, tilting your head to the side to spit into the grass, feeling it dribble over your lips as you did.

You took a moment, hands clutching at dead leaves and dirt, breathing through the slight wave of nausea that accompanied the metallic taste that settled in the back of your mouth, the uncomfortable electric tingling of your tongue.

Behind you, you could hear the shifting of clothes, the clinking of metal. Hancock's hands on your back, that ever present worry, never able to put your welfare away.

"You alright, brother?" He asked, voice soft, his hand sliding across your lower back, skin smooth against the fabric of the shirt you wore.

"I'm good," You breathed, wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand, "Just– You know how it is. Always forget just how bad it tastes."

He snorted, hand slipping momentarily down to your ass for a gentle squeeze, "Well, you did a fantastic job, as always."

The praise, lightly tossed out there, settled in your core, spreading heat out like a struck match. Suddenly, his touch was electrifying. "Could we–" You started, but were interrupted by the rustle of trees in the distance, the hoof beats of a radstag rushing past you. In a moment, the two of you went from loose limbed and giggly to standing and alert. You dove for your gun, reloading and cocking it, lining up your sights with the noises.

Hancock was beside you, one hand held up in front of your chest, like he was protecting you, his knife in his other hand, held in a tight grasp.

You went still, deadly silent, tracking the distant shape, tucked between curtains of trees. You struggled to make out what it was, whether human or a sluggish Yao Guai, maybe even just a startled Radstag.

According to your mapping, this was unclaimed territory, avoided even by the enclave, hours from the next checkpoint. You held your breath, chasing the shape with your scope as it traveled behind trees, stumbling unnaturally, unrecognizable movements.

"Can you tell what it is?" Hancock murmured, posed to strike but waiting for your signal.

"No," You whispered back, trying to tell if the movements looked like a feral ghoul, a straggler fallen out of his group, woken by the movements in the forests. "I think we should get a closer look. You ready?"

"Always," he replied, falling into step besides you. You set a slow, creeping pace, rifle still firm in your grip, hand itching on the trigger, prepared for a sudden attack.

You weaved through trees, distancing yourself from the little camp you'd made. Its movements were still erratic, but it didn't seem to have noticed you, bouncing from tree to tree. Sure enough, as you closed in, you recognized those familiar snarls, saw the flash of red, angry, exposed flesh. A lone ghoul, clad in a dark black cloak, stumbling around, looking for who knows what.

Finally, about ten paces away from it, it reared its head, snarling. You raised your rifle, finger on the trigger, but before you could even line up the gun Hancock was in action, knife striking the ghoul's heart, torso, then with a powerful thrust, the blade pierced its skull. Dead.

You backed yourself up against a tree, scanning the ground for any other threats.

"Poor guy," Hancock mused, examining the corpse as it bled out, dampening the ground. "Do you have any winter clothes?" He asked, tugging at the cloak the ghoul was wearing, flapping the spare fabric.

Sure enough, it looked like thick, well insulated fabric.

"Mmm, maybe," You said, raising your pip-boy to check your inventory. The pair of you were on a smaller run, only two nights on the road. You had yet to make it to where you were heading, you had a parcel to deliver, some buildings to clear on the way for the Minutemen.

"Let's store it somewhere. If we spot it on the way back, I'll take it."

You watched as Hancock examined his knife, scarred fingers following the blade, cleaning the blood off it as he went. The adrenaline in your blood slowly faded, replaced by the gentle thrumming of electricity in your veins.

He yanked the cloak off the dead ghoul in a smooth move, bundling it up in his arms as he fell back in step with you, heading back towards the camp you'd made.

The campfire crackled, sending bright sparks up into the darkened sky. It was overcast, only a few of the brightest stars peaking through, the waxing moon disappearing behind gray clouds. You dropped down onto your bedroll, going through the motions of unloading your rifle, tucking the bullets back into your bandolier.

Hancock settled next to you, his shoulder bumping into yours, setting his hat onto his knee. 

He pulled the knife back out, running his nimble fingers over the sharp edge, testing the blade for dullness. You watched him through half lidded eyes, mouth salivating despite yourself. Something about seeing him throw himself in front of you without thought, even knowing how well you could defend yourself. Putting your well being ahead of his own.

He flipped the knife in his hand, the blade glinting silver in the firelight. You could almost pinpoint the moment your blood flow changed course, sending a thrum to your core, the momentary distraction quickly forgotten. You leaned your head on your palm, eyes following the blades motion as Hancock fidgeted, nails picking at a dried speck of blood. You pictured the tip of it pressed to your skin, mapping out a scratched path. Catching on your chest, your neck, maybe even delving further downwards.

"Someone in there?" Hancock asked, cutting through your reverie, having clearly been trying to speak to you.

"Hmm?" You asked, struggling to move your gaze from the knife, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

He gave a snort, a grin stretching over his face, "Never mind. What's got you so distracted?"

You puffed your cheeks out. You'd never hinted at an interest in bringing weapons into your sex life, seeing as it was plenty exciting as is, but something about the image of that knife in his hands...

"How would you feel about using that knife... on me?"

His eyes flickered downwards to where he was still fiddling with the knife, then back up at you, "Why? You thinking about going feral on me?"

You could, if he wanted you to, but, "Not exactly," You raised yourself, crawling over on your knees to climb into his lap. You nipped at that spot behind his ear, the one that always made him shudder. "Maybe you could..." You brought your hands under the hem of his shirt, fingers running over his warm stomach, "Cut off my clothes," You kissed at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, "or run the blade over my skin," you rutted against his hips, feeling the hardening bulge in his pants, "I'm sure you could find something to do with the handle."

He cleared his throat, pliant under your touch. His free hand came up to squeeze your ass, push your hips even closer together.

"You sure about this?" His voice was calm, not nervous, just a casual check in.

"Of course. I know how good you are with that blade. I know what those hands can do. Seems a shame I've never gotten a demonstration, is all." You trusted him implicitly, not only with your heart, but with your life. He could tie you up and leave you blindfolded right here in these woods and you'd trust him to keep you safe.

You bit down on his earlobe, just enough to elicit a hiss, before he turned his head and captured your mouth in a kiss. You reveled in it, the warmth of him against you, the taste of cigarettes and grape mentats.

He pulled away with a grin, said: "Well, that I can provide," the rumble of his words passing through your sternum. Then, with a quick movement, he had you on the ground, back to your bedroll, his arms bracketing your head. From the corner of your eye, you could see the glint of the blade, inches away from your skin.

Then the dull edge of it was pressed into your cheek, cold metal making you give a little shiver. Your eyes stayed on Hancock, watching his focused gaze as the knife traveled lower, pausing over the arteries in your neck, the sharp point of it digging into the underside of your jaw. When you swallowed you felt it dig just a bit deeper, not enough to break the skin but enough to feel the threat of it.

"So good for me, hmm?" Hancock's whisper was a ghost across your skin, so close you could almost reach up and kiss him. "Trusting me like this."

You were sure the wetness in your underwear had spread to your pants, could feel your heartbeat in your clit. Your fingers twitched, desperate to relieve the pressure, to rut against something while Hancock had his fun. He was on his knees, his hips just out of reach, but you thought... maybe if you shifted, you could trap one of his thighs between your legs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've been neglecting you," In a flash, the knife was gone from your throat, the hilt of it pressed right against where you needed it most.

You let out a little whine, hands coming up to grasp at Hancock's arms to try to give yourself some leverage, pressing your clothed cunt against the knife for some added pressure.

His smile was wicked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you, reducing you to a pliant mess in his hands, content to let him do as he pleased.

He sat up onto his knees, knife gone for a moment as he shrugged out of his coat, then made quick work of the buttons on his vest before that followed too.

The knife's hilt returned to where it had been pressing, leaving you to grind down against it, trying to find that perfect angle through your clothes. Hancock brought his free hand to your mouth, hooking two fingers into your bottom lip, "Open up for me, that's a good boy."

You did as you were asked, went about sucking them without needing instruction, tongue running along and between the digits. Once he was satisfied, Hancock pulled them out, a strand of saliva following.

The knife was laid flat to rest on your stomach as he undid the button on your jeans. It wobbled with every inhale, cool steel sending goosebumps up past your navel. Gentle hands pulled your pants down, pausing in a moment to shuck off your boots as well, the whole of it adding to the pile of his clothes.

He pulled your underwear to the side, pausing just a moment to stare, that truly reverential expression on his face that you'd never seen with any other partners.

"John," You whined, deciding he was getting a touch too distracted, rolling your hips up towards his face in an attempt to get him back on track. Sure enough, those wet fingers were quick to dip beneath your folds, teasingly dipping into that wet, tight, heat before retracting, moving up to rub at your clit.

You gasped at the contact, back arching right up off the ground, breath turning to a soft moan as he found his pace. He leant right over you, pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes, before capturing your lips again. Some added pressure from his fingers had you groaning into his mouth, one hand reaching up to grab him by the back of the neck, pulling him closer as his tongue flitted into your mouth.

He licked into you, greedily swallowing any noises that escaped, his free hand slowly crawling under your shirt, sliding over your stomach and your chest, coming to a pause to pinch a nipple between his fingers.

"Always so wet for me," He breathed against your mouth, fingers vanishing off your clit again to dip inside you, "Hard to believe you're mine sometimes, sunshine."

"I am," You panted against him, "All yours."

You whined again as he crooked his fingers inside you, his other hand moving to play with your neglected nipple for just a moment before he removed his hand from under your shirt.

The knife, momentarily forgotten, had tilted off your stomach and fallen beside you in the dirt. Hancock picked it up, wiping it quickly off on the sleeve of his shirt before placing the tip of it right onto your sternum, held with gentle pressure.

It caught on the fabric of your shirt, your gentle rocking against his fingers, your heaving chest. The first tear made you gasp, the steel suddenly against bare skin. You watched Hancock's eyes follow the blade, could see the glint of it reflected in his black eyes. It traced down your chest, tearing through more fabric on the way down, until the entire thing came apart, exposing the entirety of your torso.

It traveled over your hip bone, catching on the seam of your panties. A quick slash, blade singing, and you're exposed to the world.

Hancock bent over you again to take a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing ever so gently against the nub on it, tugged on it with just enough pressure to meld pleasure and pain, until you're pushing your chest out to follow his mouth.

He pulls off with a pop, running his tongue along your sternum, up your neck, your jaw, right up to meet your lips again.

His fingers stilled inside you and you bucked against them, desperate to keep him going.

He pulled away from your lips to whisper against them, "Let me take care of you, sunshine?" You nodded against him, as if there were any other answer, mewling when you felt his fingers pull out. You hear the familiar sound of his belt buckle, the shifting of fabrics, and then he was pushing against your entrance, head bowed low as you gave way, the first inch of him sliding in.

You moaned against the intrusion, bringing one leg up to hook around the back of his thigh, encouraging him to keep going. Slowly, he did, sinking in with his usual care, eyes taking in every micro-expression on your face, always looking for signs of discomfort.

You had to tap him on the shoulder to encourage him to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed, encouraged by your moans. It wasn't long until you had both legs hooked around his waist, crying out as he found that perfect spot inside you, hands fisting the back of his shirt as he whispered words of praise.

"Taking me so well, baby, feelin' so perfect around my cock–" He gasped as you squeezed down around him, hiding his face in your shoulder.

"God, fuck, John–" You moaned as his fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing in time to the snap of his hips, each thrust somehow feeling deeper, the slick drag of him heavenly as your orgasm approached fast, ramming into you with the force of a pre-war train car, leaving you clawing at his back, seconds away from ripping through his shirt as well.

Hancock is hot on your heels, hips stuttering, thrusts going sloppy. You barely have the sense of mind to release your legs, letting them fall to the side just in time for him to pull out and come all over your bare stomach with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, heedless of the sticky come now smeared over your skin and his shirt. You brought him up for a kiss, rolling the two of you over so that you could pull the tatters of your shirt off and use it to mop off the mess on your skin.

After more lazy kisses, Hancock leant down and pulled his heavy coat over the two of you, too spent to bother with the rest of your clothes. Your chests are still heaving as you settle into the crook of his neck, buzzing pleasantly, warm with the fire on one side and Hancock pressed against you.

Through heavy breaths, Hancock managed to pause long enough to ask, "Hey, you do have a spare shirt, right?"

You snickered, hiding your face in the collar of his coat, "Yeah, I've got one in my bag."

"Hate to have seen what you'd've done to me tomorrow if you'd let me ruin your only one."

"Mm, nothing too bad," You poked your head out to press a kiss to his cheek, "Too soft on you for that."

Notes:

My first request!!! So much fun to do, thank u for requesting and feel free to shoot me any ideas you have.

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment, or request something, or just come chat with me!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

when we begin again

I wanted to write something for my little huskerdust babies au! So here's some devastating angst!!

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for being the first to indulge me in this madness and the general encouragement and huge thanks to @hangsters for putting up with me singing these songs on repeat whenever by brain goes into standby

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

cw trans angel dust, male presenting pregnancy

-

“You have to deal with Angel Dust.”

Husk had been hearing that a lot lately. It made him happier than he’d be willing to admit to anyone with working ears. 

Well. Anyone apart from Angel Dust himself. 

But that surly voice didn’t belong to his man, it was Vaggie who had appeared against his bar, hands braced on it and interrupting the game of poker Husk had been playing against himself. There wasn’t much to do when you were a bartender who’d promised not to drink for the next six months, two weeks and three days. But who was counting? 

Husk didn’t look up, rolling the olives he used as chips from one pile to the other, blatantly cheating and willing himself not to notice, “Let me guess, he made Charlie cry again? Or was it Nifty this time? Ah fuck, did he piss off the radio demon…”

He’d rattled them off in order of likelihood but he wouldn’t put any of them past his spider demon lately. Angel Dust had always been an acquired taste with that sugared armor he put on and the sharp tongue underneath, the teasing smirk he faced the afterlife with. Hell, it had been a while before Husk broke under his charms and that was only after seeing them for what they were, pretty decoration on someone who’d been through a lot and chosen his weapons carefully. He was an asshole, smug and bitchy and vulgar, and Husk had learned to love it.

But for someone who’d actively chased chemical imbalance for years, the guy was not handling pregnancy well.

Tired, aching and hormonal, his time lately was mostly spent sulking on the couch, scowling at anyone who came near, firing off cutting remarks that weren’t so funny without the smile and wink to go along with them. There were very few people in the hotel he hadn’t upset, hitting every square on the bingo sheet, losing his shit over the smallest thing until he deserved some kind of special prize for acidity. He’d be sorry when he calmed down, continually brought to tears by his friends’ patience with him, all of them ready to play the whole scene out the next day.

Hence why Husk was asked to deal with him as often as he was, riding on his baby daddy pass. Being the spider demon’s keeper would lose its shine eventually but it hadn’t happened yet and he didn’t see it on the horizon either. 

“Well, no more than usual but…” Vaggie continued, her palm still over his winning hand. 

Husk sighed, “Look, I know he’s a lot to deal with right now but you can’t blame the guy. He was a bitch with booze, cigarettes and drugs mixed in, now he’s had to drop all three on short notice, topped off with two spider kittens using his organs as a trampoline and turning his brain into soup.” 

“No,” Vaggie’s voice shifted from surly to irritated with an edge of worry that shattered Husk’s warm feeling and pulled his eyes off his cards, “No, it’s not like that, Husk.”

“What’s up with him?” he felt his ears pick up, like if he strained enough, he could hear Angel somewhere upstairs. 

When he’d come back from the store, laden with sweet treats that made his teeth ache just looking at them and insane combinations Angel’s cravings had been demanding lately, he’d just assumed the sofa was empty because the spider was upstairs, sleeping. But Vaggie’s expression said something different. Guilt settled over Husk like a wet blanket. Why didn’t he go and check on him…

“That’s the thing, we don’t know,” the former angel folded her arms, “He was sitting in the lounge like usual, watching TV, me and Charlie were setting up for today’s lesson and suddenly he just got up and stormed off. Slammed the door and hasn’t left since. Snaps at anyone who comes knocking to go fuck themselves.” 

Husk felt the fur across his shoulders lift. Some of that was normal. Some of that gave him the concrete feeling of knowing the next card you turned would blow your hand or knowing that fist was sailing right for your nose. 

“Um…guys?” Charlie’s voice had a tremble that made it sound ready to break, “I think I know what upset him.”

The television was blaring when they ran over to where she sat in the lounge but that had a lot to do with the voice of Katie Killjoy, curdled nastily and accompanied by a dangerous lioness smile. 

And a grainy, lopsided paparazzi shot of Angel Dust, pupils wide as silver dollars and a grin so loose it was sliding right off his face, a poisonous looking martini in one of his hands, a rolled up note in another. 

“Ah fuck…” Husk groaned softly. 

“...with the frankly staggering revelation that the bumbling efforts over at the Hazbin Hotel actually work, somewhat, Hell is left with questions. How did such embarrassing methods actually produce results? Is this the first step on the road to ascension? Is this all an elaborate hoax by the Princess of Hell in a bid to sell us on her hotel? All valid questions in the wake of this news! But we here at Vox Media Productions have another to add to the list.”

The photo of Angel Dust was blown up, becoming footage, bleeding into clips from his more violent pornos. Husk doubted he had a heart anymore but something in his chest ached at the sight of a clear downward spiral. He used to watch Angel like this and tell himself he didn’t care, that the kid was none of his concern, an afterlife imploding to the same tune he’d heard a thousand times, living and dead. 

But he was long past lying to himself. Now he had no shield against the pain of watching the man he loved drown in front of him, knowing there was a version of himself just in the wings, too damn stubborn and too damn drunk to help him. 

“The well known sinner at the center of this shocking story is no stranger to scandal, though he’s far more used to making a profit from it. Angel Dust, star of many award winning pornographic films, is the supposed father-to-be but close, personal friends of the spider himself have raised their concerns.”

Husk could feel the growl running between his teeth like an electric current. He could take a guess at just who’d fed them this story. 

“Sinners, ask yourselves, is this really the person who should be in charge of Hell’s very first children? A known drug addict who makes his living from indecency? And, according to insider reports from Porn Studios, an unreliable, temperamental, unstable individual? There have been a lot of very worrying leaks about his on set behavior and, while we were all willing to turn a blind eye before, there are now young lives at stake. Can we really allow this to continue? Vox Media certainly doesn’t think so.”

A dagger flashed out and crashed through the screen, turning the chatter and flashing images into gurgling pops of static and then silence. Vaggie wrenched her weapon free, eyes flaring enough to burn holes in the wall. 

“Someone needs to crush that fucking bug,” she spat, “Pin him to a goddamn corkboard.”

“They said it’s their top story, they must have been talking about it all day…” Charlie flickered between forms, horns phasing in and out, tears welling in her eyes, “Angel must have seen it…”

“We knew Valentino would throw a bitch fit over you keeping the kids out of his hands,” Vaggie spun the dagger between her fingers like there might still be something to throw it at, “But getting Vox to do his dirty work? Fucking coward…”

“They can’t…they can’t actually take the babies from him right? Right?” Charlie shook herself, hands twisting in her hair, “No, no, of course not. Because we’ll do something about it! I’ll…I’ll get them to interview me! We’ll run our own piece! Start our own news station?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Husk’s voice, oddly calm and empty of anger, brought his friends up short, stalling their fury and their panic. He wrenched his claws out of the furrows he’d dug in the back of the sofa, keeping his breathing steady and even as he took the stairs two at a time. 

The more demonic part of him wanted to howl and break things, smash glass and break his claws against the wall. The part of him that had once been an Overlord wanted to track down Valentino and tear the wings off his back, grind him into the ground until he was as small as he’d ever made Angel feel. The human part of him wanted to find the nearest bottle and drain it dry, rob himself of all feeling, blunt the edges of this pain until he didn’t have to deal with it at all. 

But Husk ignored all of them. It took a moment but he managed it eventually, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t take control of his limbs. There was only one thing that he could let matter right now. 

Angel Dust wasn’t the only one who was struggling with the change in their afterlives.

The bedroom behind the door was still his own, technically, but he hadn’t thought of it that way in a while. They hadn’t been an item long before pink started bleeding into the otherwise lifeless space, bright clothes actually making use of the wardrobe, make-up left scattered in front of the mirror, Fat Nuggets snoring on Husk’s side of the bed more often than not. Angel Dust still had his room down the hall, Husk knew he got a lot of reassurance out of having his own space (and he had a lot more shit) but his paws brought him here first. 

He knocked lightly, pressing his forehead to the door, “Angel? Baby, it’s me.”

There was a very deliberate pause where Husk knew there was a good chance he’d be told to fuck off, a static weight where lightning might strike or it might not. He held his breath, tail whipping anxiously, not praying, he wasn’t fool enough for that, but hoping pretty damn hard. 

Eventually, he heard a soft murmur, the sound of fabric moving, “M’here.”

He took that as permission to gently ease the heavy door open. Their room was dark, almost completely, apart from the sickly blue light flooding out of the phone in Angel’s hands. The spider demon was slumped on the bed, angular limbs folded in like someone had taken a rolled up newspaper to him, the only part of him that moved was the thumb scrolling endlessly through some newsfeed. Husk could hear tinny versions of Angel’s exaggerated moans and squeals from any number of pornos, interspersed with canned commentary from the 666 News broadcast. It seemed like Vox wasn’t the only Vee helping Valentino play dirty. 

Husk sighed, closing the door behind him and gently clambering onto the bed, though he gave Angel plenty of room, “Baby, maybe you should stop listening to that…”

Angel’s voice was thin and rough, like it had come through a belt sander, “He’s sending me them. Val. Making sure I don’t miss any.”

Husk swallowed back acidic anger, “Block him. You can put it down, Angel, it’s okay…” 

“Used to tell yourself that at the roulette table, huh? Just put it down?” Angel flashed him a bitter look. 

Husk couldn’t help it, he flinched. Immediately his boyfriend’s anger cracked and collapsed, horror and shame underneath. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing face down and dropping them into darkness. But the pentagram moon showed Husk more than enough, the tears bleeding down Angel’s face, his mouth twisted miserably as it swallowed him under. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Husk sighed, holding out his hands, “I know you didn’t, baby, I know. Look, can I touch you? That okay?”

Angel’s two sets of arms seemed to be in disagreement. One set trembled closer to Husk’s, the other hovered over the phone, both pulling against the other and both terrified. Husk found himself doing it again, that thing that wasn’t praying, harder than he’d done over any green-felted table. 

The stalemate finally broke and, thank fuck, Husk was the winner. Angel Dust crashed into him with more force than you’d ever think was in that skinny body, clutching him tight enough to hurt, not that Husk could find it in him to care. He felt warm tears soak the fur at the curve of his neck, welcomed them, brought his wings around to shelter the two of them, purred loud and unashamedly, rocked him the way he’d never been rocked himself but it felt right. 

“I don’t get it,” the words came waterlogged and painful, “I didn’t ask for them. I didn’t ask for these kids but I’m doing my fucking best and now I have them, all everyone wants to do is take them away from me.”

For a moment, Husk was envious of his lover, two arms didn’t feel like enough to hold him, how was he supposed to compete when the hurt was this big?

“I know,” he rubbed his cheek against Angel’s hair, forgetting to be self conscious of his feline instincts, “It ain’t fair, baby. And…and I need you to know…if it’s too much, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. You have a choice.”

Angel’s breath shuddered, two hands winding from around Husk’s middle, slipping down. He couldn’t see them but he knew where they were going, his own paws met them there. Demons glancing at him in the street would have no idea- well, they would now thanks to the fucking Vees- but Husk spent a good amount of his time staring at Angel Dust. He saw the gentle slope in his stomach, he knew where to press to feel it through the oversized sweatshirt he wore. He threaded his fingers through Angel’s so the two of them cradled it together, this little impossibility, this spark that had fallen through the cracks and somehow landed here in their afterlives. 

“I wanna do it,” Angel Dust rasped, “I know it’s dumb and selfish but I can’t help it. I got ditched by my family and this…they feel like a second chance. And I know I don’t deserve it but I can’t let go.”

Husk shook his head gently, shifting so he could rest his forehead against Angel’s, “Listen to me. I don’t know why this happened, I don’t know what asshole is up there above Heaven and Hell and all this mess deciding whose a sinner and whose a saint, whose spunk gets to work and whose don’t. I don’t know why these kids are here but I know there’s only one explanation that makes sense to me.” 

Angel sniffled softly, still looking down at their joined hands, “What?”

“You,” Husk breathed, running his thumb over that little knot low inside his lover, “You’re the only person I can think of, in heaven or hell or wherever the fuck else, who’s strong enough to do this. You’ve fought harder than anyone I know to be better than you were. And you’ll keep fighting for our kids, even when assholes like that bitch Val keep throwing punches. I think they’re here because you deserve that second chance, Angel.”

His slitted eyes had adjusted to the darkness, rewarding him with the sight of a small, trembling smile on Angel’s face. 

“Well…that means you do too, right?” he whispered. 

Husk chuckled softly, “Hell, I already knew I was on the path to redemption. I got you, didn’t I? Must be halfway to a fucking saint.”

Angel’s laugh was a shaky, broken thing but it was the sweetest sound Husk had heard in a long time, a prize he could never have imagined winning. To be trusted so much by someone who, by rights, should never have trusted anyone again, he wouldn’t have traded anything for that. 

Angel reached down, fumbling around in the blankets until he found his phone. He held the power button down until the screen went fully dark then tossed it over his shoulder, letting it land in some of the clothes scattered on the floor. He seemed to breathe a little easier after, glowing at the proud grin Husk gave him. 

“I love you, baby,” the words still left him quietly, like he was still unsure saying them, they were a trick he hadn’t mastered yet and was terrified to fumble, “You know that, right?”

Angel nods, plucking those words out of the air and clutching them so tight they were tattooed on his palm, “So you keep saying, Whiskers. Though I could stand to hear it a few more times…and I love you too. A whole fucking lot…” his eyes slid over his shoulder where he’d tossed the phone and it’s poisonous chatter,  “Enough that it drowns out all that bullshit on most days.”

Husk laid a paw against his cheek, brushing away the tear tracks on his face, “And on the days it doesn't, I’m right here. And soon we’ll have two little brats running around, I hear they’re pretty loud.”

Angel let Husk tumble him gently sideways, their bodies finding a way to comfortably fit together in their nest of blankets, “Not soon enough if you ask me. I could have been just enough of a spider to lay eggs and save myself the hassle but nah, I had to go and fall in love with a mammal…”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Husk smiled crookedly, purring so Angel would feel it as he pillowed his head on his chest, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Too fucking right you will,” Angel’s gold tooth flashed as he yawned, the sadness draining away and leaving him empty, “Over and over again, in a wide variety of different positions…”

Husk could feel Angel Dust still shaking, even after he drifted asleep. It wasn’t the end of it, he knew that the tide had just gone out. The next months weren’t going to be easy and hell only knew what would happen after that. He’d certainly had better odds in his time. 

But Husk knew one thing for certain. He was all in.