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well-its-not-human-anymore · 3 years

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Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him. But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #writing blog #writing requests #askbox #ask response #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo

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lcksndkys · 3 years

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Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: 1,474

A/N: This piece was written as part of the btsghostiewriters drabble marathon!! Dialogue prompt #3: “Do you take constructive criticism?” “I only take cash.” Enjoy and feel free to talk to me about it! I'd love to hear what you think!! As usual, s/o to my peoples @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the support and encouragement!! Also, the song is Permission by Ro James.

Summary: Hoseok wants to audition for a position as an exotic dancer at The Pied Piper, a new strip club that provides entertainment for all. He wants your opinion of his routine. Except, you’ve been silently harboring a tiny (re: massive) crush on your friend.

You accidentally tell Hoseok you don’t find him sexy.

01, 02

"You wanna strip?" you ask, cocking a brow.

“I need the job,” Hoseok explains. “I wanna buy Dynamite from Sejeong Hyung and run my own dance studio. Plus, it's not stripping, it's called exotic dancing.”

“What about a loan?” you try to counter, ignoring the second part of his claim.

“I wouldn’t even qualify for one big enough for Dynamite. This job will pay well enough to cover whatever expenses are left over after the loan” he continues.

The new strip club, The Pied Piper, provides entertainment for all and is currently hiring male exotic dancers. According to Hoseok, the type of dancing is sensual, but classy. He even pulled up a video advertisement to show you proof.

He sets his laptop on the ground in front of the two of you and presses play.

The characteristic beats of a familiar song ring through the air. Pony, how cliché. You watch the men on the screen gyrate their hips along to the beat of the greasy song, body-rolling around the stage in nothing but their fitted jeans. The physique of each man is eye catching to say the least.

The choreography is complex with each dancer making small stylistic adjustments so that they look in sync, but not matching entirely. Clearly, many of them are classically trained and/or professionals.

Enraptured, you watch as their bodies move sensuously with the music. The clip shifts to one of the male dancers who pulls a woman on stage. A sparkling white and silver sash looped around her torso indicates she’s a blushing bride-to-be. She’s helped to a chair and approached by one of the dancers. Before the clip is over, Hoseok is closing his laptop and looking for your reaction.

“So, do you think I could do it?” he asks you eagerly.

You look into his hopeful eyes and your heart melts a little bit. He’s your Hoseok. Sweet, shy, sensitive, scared-of-everything Hoseok. You still remember how he cried when he was stung by a bee during dance camp in high school. How he has a 1.5 drink limit- half a drink better than when you both started college years ago. You try to imagine your friend dancing like the men you just watched on the screen.

“Well, those men- they’re really...” you struggle to find an appropriate term. You settle on “They’re really sexy” and then immediately regret your choice of words.

“You don’t think I’m sexy?”

Looking at Hoseok’s crestfallen face, you rapidly launch into damage control.

“I just mean- I’ve never seen you dance like that, Hobi”

There’s a few tense seconds of silence as Hoseok regards you before he slowly releases one long breath through his nose.

“I’ve been practicing,” he claims.

You swallow the lump in your throat at the dark look he’s suddenly giving you. It looks like danger.

Hoseok digs a folding chair out of the dingy closet of your modest dance studio. He drags it across the floor, props it open, and gestures for you to have a seat.

Sitting on the cold metal folding chair, you cross your arms and legs. You affix the carefully crafted neutral mask over your face. Secretly, you’re proud of your ability to hide the secret crush that has been quietly brewing over the last year.

“Can I show you what I’ve been working on?” he asks.

You nod your consent.

“Good. I’d like your feedback” he smiles.

You watch as Hoseok browses through his playlist and assume he’s looking for his audition song.

The sensuous music fills the little studio, echoing against the hard walls. The blank expression on your face hides the nervously pitter pattering of your heart.

With your permission

Tonight I wanna be a little me on you

Your skin prickles with heat as you watch Hoseok start to dance slowly to the beat. Limbs fluid with practice and hip swaying, you’re mesmerized by his movements.

He suddenly dives for the floor, twisting his body in a quarter turn mid-air, catching himself in a near handstand position before slowly lowering his chest, then pelvis to the floor. On hands and knees, his head swivels to make eye contact with you. He parts his legs, lowering his hips and thrusting against the ground making you gasp softly. Desire pools deep in your belly and for the first time in your life, you wish you were the flooring of this grimy, old studio.

Flipping over, Hoseok keeps his knees bent and plants his feet on the ground. Thighs spread wide, he bucks his hips up towards you. Your eyes follow the undulating of his hips as he pumps himself against the air.

Come on give me that green light

And you can let your hair hang down

But only if it feels right

You grit your teeth together to keep from panting.

He gracefully stands, adding a flourish to his movements, and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he approaches you.

At the last button, he sweeps open his top exposing the lithe planes of his chest and abdomen. Although not as muscular as the men in the video, his body is perfectly proportioned with well toned pecs and abs and delicate collarbones.

You gulp, hoping Hoseok hasn’t noticed how he’s affecting you. Watching him dance for you is alarmingly arousing.

There's a whole lot of motherfuckin' lovin' that's way past due

I owe you

With your permission

I'ma do all the things that I said I'm gon' do

Hands on your thighs, he uncrosses your legs then arms with a smirk. He straddles your lap and pulls your hands up to cup his ass.

You feel heat lick its way up your neck and cheeks.

This close up, you see every detail in Hoseok’s beautiful face. His perfectly sloped nose, the mole on his upper lip, every lash framing his usually warm eyes.

Encouraging you to hold onto him, he grinds his hips against you to the beat of the song. With both hands clutching his tight gluts, you can’t help but feel every sensuous movement of his pelvis. Your mind drifts to his stroke game, sending another wave of arousal through your core. He brings one hand to your neck, long fingers wrapping around you to lock your eyes together. The other holds onto the backing of the chair he is currently defiling you against.

Satisfied with your gaze, you feel him bury his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull, scratching luxuriously against your scalp and you nearly moan out loud. Instead you bite the inside of your cheek and hold your composure.

Your hands start to wander up the planes of his back and sides, feeling the bumps and grooves of muscle and bone.

Hoseok continues to fuck you against the chair until he draws a whimper from between your sealed lips.

He smiles in victory and buries his hand in your locks at the base of your skull and pulls. He noses along the column of exposed skin while he grinds against you making you shiver with need.

There's a tension, between us two

Red light special, girl you're special

You a blessing, so let me bless you

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back, eyes blackened with desire as he stares down at you.

Like magnets, you are drawn towards each other. Hoseok presses his soft lips against yours in a tender, chaste kiss- a stark contrast to the dirty grinding of his body against yours. Hand still in your hair, he tips your head to the side sending his tongue out to lap against the seam of your lips. You part for him feeling the warm, wet muscle glide into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs.

By the time he pulls back to study your reaction, you’re dazed and scrambling to find something coherent to say.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” you choke out, trying to sound casual.

“I only take cash” he quips back at you holding a hand out as if asking for a tip.

“Ok, well you probably shouldn’t kiss any of the patrons” you advise quietly thinking it was a planned part of his routine.

Disappointed by your seemingly lackluster reaction to his kiss, Hoseok pulls back from you dropping his hand from your neck.

“Is that all you have to say?” Hoseok grunts and climbs off you, no longer smiling.

“It’s just so cliché,” you try to explain.

“Yeah, well, so is falling for a friend” he throws back, hurt.

You gasp.

“I never-” you panic.

“- I wasn’t talking about you” Hoseok effectively cuts you off.

You swear your heart stops for a second as you process Hoseok’s words. You’re speechless as he quickly packs up his belongings and takes one last look at your bewildered face before he leaves you sitting in the middle of the studio.

#jung hoseok #hoseok fanfic #hobi fanfic #hoseok scenario #hobi scenario #dancer hoseok #dancer hobi #who would turn down a lapdace from hobi #not i #btsghostiemarathon

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

It’s You and Me - Chapter 6

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1588

Rating: E

Warnings: Nothing much this chapter

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 6: Then

Clint swung the sword in a lazy arc from left to right and back again as he watched you stretch. The springboard was set up between the two of you, and Clint hadn’t quite worked out how they’d hide that in the arena to make this look like you could get as much air as you needed without assistance. That was if the two of you could get it to work at all.

You’d come a long way since you first came to him for help. In the year and a bit since it happened you and he had started performing together. To begin with, Clint had just started training you to use the sword and the bow. While you learned he had incorporated you into his act doing simple things that didn’t require you to have any actual skills. Shooting an apple off your head. Putting you on a rotating wheel and firing arrows around your body.

Jacques kept complaining that it wasn’t enough. He tried to argue that anyone could stand there while Clint shot at them. Thankfully it was enough for the Ringmaster, and so Jacques couldn’t touch you. Maynard Tiboldt was the head of the circus, and what he said was law. Clint had known that it wouldn’t be long until Jacques got in the Tiboldt’s ear and he’d come for you again, and if not that, that Tiboldt himself would think up some criminal activity he needed you to do. So Clint honed his act as you got better. New tricks were added and he trained you in more things. When he started training you in acrobatics, he knew he was on to something. You took to it even faster than you took to the sword. You were a natural and Clint ended up roping in the other acrobats to help train you.

The act gradually grew as your skills became more honed. Little routines were added that had you backflipping out of the way of his arrows even though he was aiming not to hit you, and having you do handstands while he shot through your spread legs. As you got better the routine became more complex. Most recently Clint had you doing flips over the arrows he shot at targets as they traveled through the air. You’d even gotten to the point you could fire an arrow with your feet while you did a handstand. You weren’t particularly accurate but it served as a good starter for Clint to copy and spit your arrow in two.

He knew - the way he knew it about himself too - that you needed to keep getting better or it wouldn’t be enough anymore and they’d drag you right down into the pits with them. So he kept planning out more things you could do together. You were good with the horses, so he thought about incorporating them somehow. He thought about trick arrows and how the two of you could use them together. Anything that would keep drawing in a crowd and make the circus money so neither of you had to make it elsewhere.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah. Are you?” You answered.

He nodded and thrust the sword forward as if he was going to stab you. You jumped rotating straight up through the air and landed with both feet, on the flat of the blade. Clint’s shoulder strained and the blade wobbled. You managed to stay standing on it for less than a second, but Clint couldn’t hold the blade steady and you slipped. You managed to get some leverage off the blade as you fell and turned mid-air, landing in a crouched position on the ground.

“Shit,” Clint cursed, rolling his shoulder. “Sorry. It’s the weight when you land. It’s hard to keep steady.”

“I could just immediately backflip off again,” you suggested. “Make it look like I kicked you in the face.”

Clint laughed. “I mean, sure we can start with that. But I think the crowd would appreciate it more if they get a moment to applaud it.”

“Yeah, but if I wrench your shoulder you’re not going to be good for anything, are you?” You said.

Clint looked down at the blade. “Reinforcing the blade helped with its stability. I wonder if we could rig something for me.”

“I dunno, Clint,” you said. “You’re better with those gadgets than I am. But wouldn’t that make shooting an arrow harder?”

“We can do an overdramatic jacket removal,” he suggested.

“Anything to get your shirt off,” you teased. “You trying to scare the customers away?”

“Why you little shit,” Clint gasped playfully and lunged at you, you ran but he got his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a headlock and ran his knuckle back and forth on the top of the head.

“Clint!” You squealed, trying to struggle out of his hold. “Stop it!”

He stopped rubbing your head but kept you held under his arm. “I dunno if I should. You’re a big bunch of trouble.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” You shouted as you struggled.

“Yeah, yeah. How are you gonna do that when you’re trapped under there?” He teased.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the clearing and Clint turned you to face Eden who was standing at the side of the tent. “What are you doing, Clinton?” She asked.

Clint rubbed the top of your head again. “Someone seems to think I am some kind of hussy that likes to use his body to get attention.”

“And you’re not?” Eden teased.

“Not you too!” She said, and dragged you after his girlfriend, as she backed up against the tent.

“Clinton Francis Barton, you had better not!” She shouted.

He wrapped his arm around Eden’s shoulders but instead of putting her in a headlock, he dipped her back and kissed her passionately, which only made you struggled under his arm more.

“Stop it! I don’t wanna be pinned here while you make out!” You yelped.

Eden pulled back laughing and Clint looked down at you with a smirk, before letting you go. You backed off of him scowling. “You suck.”

“Oh come on now,” Eden said. “You could have broken out of that, surely. Clint? Aren’t you teaching her how to fight?”

“Well I could have punched him in the nuts, but who knows where those have been,” you teased.

“Why you little…” he said and lunged at you. You ran away laughing as Eden caught his wrist.

“Let her go,” she said. “You spend entirely too much time around her anyway.”

“She’s in my act,” Clint said. “We have to rehearse. I was thinking of adding horses… I saw this thing where people did this act, riding them standing up. Jumping on and off. I reckon I could do that and maybe we could do the handstand arrow while riding next to each other. I bet that would…”

Eden stopped him by pressing her lips against his and pushing him up against one of the tent poles. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer, trying to push out the thoughts of potential acts as her fingers tangled into his hair and ran along his scalp.

“I think you spend entirely too much time with her,” Eden said. “I thought I was your girl.”

“You are, baby,” Clint assured her. “She’s just a kid. I only have eyes for you.”

“She’s not so much a kid anymore,” Eden said. “She’ll be turning seventeen soon.”

“Pfft,” Clint scoffed. “She’s a kid. You don’t trust me?”

Eden raised her eyebrow at him. “Do you always trust me?”

Clint furrowed his brow. The truth was he wasn’t sure if he did always trust her. Which had nothing to do with Eden at all, and everything to do with him. It was hard to equate trust and love together when all the people who showed him any kind of affection always hurt him so much. Even his brother who had spent his life protecting Clint was just as likely to hit him as he was to save him. So despite the fact that Eden hadn’t done anything to make him not trust her, anytime he saw her even next to another guy he felt possessive.

“See,” she said. “Maybe we just need a little extra reassurance.”

Clint nodded and pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to worry about me and her. It’s just our act and I gotta keep it fresh so Jacques doesn’t make us take part in his schemes.”

The shadow of a frown fell on Eden’s face so briefly that Clint wasn’t sure if it was really there at all. “Do you worry about me like that?”

“Of course I do, babe,” Clint said. “You and me, we’re gonna keep our noses clean.”

“What if they tell me what I’m doing isn’t enough?” Eden asked.

Clint cradled her jaw and looked into her eyes. “Who said that? Did Jacques - “ he pulled away and squared off his shoulders. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Eden grabbed Clint’s arm. “No one did anything. It was a; ‘What if…?’ I’m fine.”

“You’ll tell me… if he does? You’ll tell me?” Clint asked.

“I’ll tell you, Clint. It’s fine,” she assured him. “Hey. How about you and I find somewhere quiet, so we can… you know?”

Clint smirked, the worries about trust and Jacques quickly pushed away. He took Eden’s hand and the two of them went to find somewhere private together.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

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blueberrypossum · 3 years

Text

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

A Nova and Shiki short

Hey yall! I'm back with a little short of just @greaser-wolf and I's ocs Nova and Shiki! This one is set after the No One Does It Like You Do fanfic and also is based off the sparring drawing wolf drew!! Hope you guys enjoy!!

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There is usage of adult language and also mention of blood and abuse, viewer discretion is advised.

Word Bank: Rhubarb- An argument or fight

Shiki looked down at her phone at the address Nova had texted her. After the boar yokai healed from the mountain mission, the cop asked the feline if she would be down to spare. And with Nova being the competitive and boastful yokai she is, accepted the offer.

Shiki knew what she was getting into, if she lost Nova would rub it in her face for weeks on end, but the cop was a little rusty when it came to cats and if her and the Mud Dogz were going to keep running into cat like yokai, she needed to be prepared.

As the brown furred yokai went towards the front door, two figures started to head towards her.

“No way,” she whispered to herself as she finally made out the two yokai that decided to show up.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Dastardly Danny was practically dragging the ogre next to him as he caught up with his girlfriend.

“Did ya really think we would miss this rhubarb? Not a chance!” The rat exclaimed as he brushed back the few tufts of hair on his head. Both of the men wore more casual outfits than their usual gang outfits so they could blend in with the crowd.

Shiki was a little excited to have the boys here after all the battles and adventures they had gone through, the cop never recalled Danny ever seeing her spare one-on-one with someone, and maybe with the guys being there than her and Nova will give all they got into the fight.

“You sure you want to be here?” Shiki asked as she opened the door and looked over at Leonard, who’s tired eyes and messy hair in a bun indicated that he was forcefully dragged to this.

“I really don’t believe I have a choice.”

As Shiki asked for Nova at the front desk, the rat yokai leaned in and said something about the feline in question and the ogre just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

The gym worker led them to one of the large rooms that could be rented out for dance or sparring practice; the rooms had a glass barrier around it so yokai’s could watch from the outside without getting hurt.

The tabby was sitting on one of the mountain's piles of folding mats, her claws scrolling through her phone as she drank from her water container. She wore a long grey thermal and workout shorts, sweat barely dripping down her face and her hair stuck to her back in its ponytail. The worker that led the three knocked on the door and the feline walked over to unlock it, a poised smile on her mouth.

“Well, not only do I get a sparring partner, but she also brought cheerleaders as well! This must be my lucky day!” Nova laughed out as she let her three friends in and waved at the worker.

“You would just love to see us in skirts, wouldn’t you?” Leonard asked and Nova stuck her tongue out at him with a wink.

“Well of course.”

Nova placed her phone and drink over in one of the corners of the room and then strolled over to her friend, her multi-colored eyes scanning over the boar’s workout outfit.

“Do you expect to bleed today, Munchkin?” Nova asked as her eyes landed on Shiki’s handaged wrapped hands.

“Didn’t the police academy teach you how to fight cats?”

The tabby flashed her fangs in a bright smile as she turned tail and over to one of the mats, her feet barely pressing into the soft floor.

“It taught us how to fight almost all different kinds of yokai, I’m just a little rusty in the feline department.”

“More like I don’t want to get my hooves dirty.”

Nova tightened her hair tie and pushed the bangs out of her eyes as she stretched her long arms up towards the ceiling. She then turned to the guys.

“Well, the cheerleaders can’t be this close to the players,” she chuckled out and then pointed to the row of seats that were outside of the room.

“Alright, boss.”

The two members of the Mud Dogz walked out of the room and sat up against the cold, metal bleachers, the only sound coming from the room was the vibration of the speakers that popped out Nova’s songs.

“Okay, I believe that the most important thing you must know about a cat is their flexibility, most small and nimble cats are flexible, except for lions and such,” Nova started as she sat down and reached for her toes while Shiki popped a few of her tight joints.

“How flexible are you?”

It almost seemed like the cat was waiting for her friend to ask that because stretched out onto her hands and did a handstand and then split her legs away from each other, all while giving a cocky smile.

“As flexible as you want me to be.”

In the stands Danny had to elbow his friend in the stomach who seemed to have cottonmouth.

“Would ya like me to get ya a drink? Ya looking kind of parch.”

“Oh shut up I saw you staring at Shiki’s ass on the way in.”

The tabby then did a front flip to land on her feet, her arms now crossed behind her back as she looked over at the stacks of soft mats.

“Most cats will use height to their advantage, to jump off of or use the hard surface to bring more power. So, that’s what I’ll be using,” she explained and then took a fighting stance.

“Alright, Shiki, got any questions?”

“I’ll ask along the way.”

“Then hit me with your best shot.”

The boar yokai grinned under her fist as she charged, her fist flying towards the feline’s stomach but the tabby dodged quickly, her hands not even coming up to protect herself. Shiki frowned and then lifted her leg to roundhouse kick her but the feline ducked down and then used her own leg to trip over Shiki, who hit the ground with a thud.

Nova leaned down to look at her, her brown curls creating waves at the end of Shiki’s vision.

“Your moves are predictable, if you’re fighting a criminal then they’ll know what moves you’ll try to pull since you’re a cop.”

Shiki responded with a grunt as she got herself up and they both took their fighting stance once more, this time Nova was the one to take the first step forward. She turned left and then a hard right at the last second, her paws digging Shiki’s arm as she came up to block.

"Cats will use their claws when they can," Nova grunted as Shiki's strength started to take over her arm.

"So, you'll need to protect yourself whenever they attack."

"Okay, how do I do that?"

Nova took her hands off of the boar’s arm and had the cop grab her by the wrists.

“You can usually see a cat about to attack with their claws when their claws come out and they’ll look for a perfect angle to attack, so grab them before they can do that.”

With Shiki’s grip on Nova’s wrists she then flipped her off her feet and then onto the ground, a forceful bust of air coming out of her white chest as the cop smiled.

Shiki helped the mountain cat up and they took a fighting stance once more, the fire boar edging closer to Nova until she had enough room to attack, her bandaged fist raising up to hit Nova in her freckled cheek. But the feline held the fist with her white paws and bounced off the momentum of Shiki’s power and strength, and with her tongue sticking out she flipped over the cop, her own power pushing Shiki to the ground.

“Jeez, Nova, you know the force could use someone like you.”

“Yes I’m sure they would love someone who’s been in their jail cell to have access to their private information,” Nova cooed and swayed from side to side.

“I’m barely breaking a sweat, Shiki! I said hit me with your best shot!” The cat challenged and Shiki raised her eyebrow in irritation, but she lifted herself up and went rogue from her usually fighting techniques.

The tinge of shock that danced over Nova’s eyes was pleasing to see as Shiki swung an underhook into her side, the cat barely dodging it before the fire boar went in for another hit, hitting her knuckles deep into Nova’s thigh.

A hiss parted between Nova’s teeth and she backed away, her strong legs leaping on top a five stacked mattress and then higher and higher onto the stack of long pillows. Shiki watched closely as Nova rubbed her thumb over the spot that was hit.

“I’m guessing that you take the legs down, you take the whole cat down?” The officer asked, confidence and arrogance leaking throughout her tone.

The feline laughed at her comment as she stood up.

“Their legs are their backup plan, if things aren’t working out for them, they can at least jump out of the situation.”

The mountain cat then jumped from one of the hanging poles and landed on one of the smaller pile of mats and then leapt towards Shiki, the female dodging the attack and Nova rolled to a complete stop next to her, her hand taking hold of her okay colored ankle and flipping her onto the floor. Shiki let out a snort as she felt her lungs hit against her back and her hand went flying towards Nova, bringing her down with her in a single pull.

They both instantly got up before either of them could get in another hit. Sweat was dripping at the corner of Nova’s face and Shiki’s palms started to feel clammy. But the brown mammal charged after the cat, Nova’s arms constantly going up to use as a barrier and then raised her knee up while Shiki was invested into trying to go for her top.

But even through the pain that Nova’s knee brought the shorter female slammed her elbow into the middle of her thigh and the fishing cat reeled back as Shiki turled and had her foot make contact with Nova’s flat chest and stomach.

The feline took a few steps back, her snowy paw gripping her stomach as she took in a few gulps of air and for a second fear traveled over Shiki as she saw spit drip from Nova’s mouth.

Maybe she took it too far? This was just supposed to be practice.

As Shiki raised her hand closer to the feline her white hand seized her wrapped hooves and twisted it behind her back in remarkable speed all while the tall cat was letting out light chuckles.

“You can’t hurt me that easily,” she growled and then released the fire boar, her white foot slamming into her back and sending her onto her feet.

Shiki could taste blood in her mouth and realized that her tongue was between her teeth and she thrashed her head around as she got herself up from the ground.

‘Cats sure do like bringing their opponent to the ground,’ Shiki thought as Nova came racing towards her, the force of her legs threw her up to the point that her foot could make contact with the Shiki’s face, who rapidly blocked it by shoving her her fist into the sole of her foot. Instead of it hurting Nova, she used it as a boost and did another front flip over the fire boar and once again used her powerful legs to kick her face down into the ground.

This time a snort of anger erupted from Shiki’s mouth as she felt a bruise start to form on her back for how many times she was kicked. She didn’t even notice the blood that soaked her wrapped hand and how Nova was leaving little pawprints of blood over the mats.

The two guys that were watching were each growing their own amount of concern as they noticed the drops of crimson that stained the blue mats and how Shiki’s and Nova’s face had changed from friendly to almost cutthroat death glares.

Nova winced as she walked over to Shiki who was getting up, the feline overhearing that she was done for the day.

“Oh we are not done, little piglet,” Nova reported as her paws enfolded over Shiki’s ankle and instant panic reaped over her body as flashes of her father crossed her mind.

“Shiki! Get your ass back here! We are not done yet!”

“But Dad, we've been at it for hours! I have homework to do!”

“And you have to show that you’re not weak! AGAIN!”

The years of fighting, if never having a break and going to bed bloody and bruised to the point others thought she was a brown and black spotted boar. The cop couldn’t hear the fake giggles Nova was pushing out as she playfully dragged her back to the center of the room, all she could hear was her father’s heart stopping screams trembled in her memory.

Shiki could feel it bubbling at the edge of her throat, the uncooked and fresh rage that started to take form as a living thing inside of her. And when she turned to look at Nova the feline stopped in her tracks, her white paws letting go of her friend’s ankle as she took a step back. Tusks were now growing out the side of the boar’s mouth and they curled towards her dark eyes.

“Hey, Shiki, I was only playing, if you need a break-”

“You wanna fight? Let’s fight then.”

Nova narrowed her eyes as puffs of smoke started to leach out of the corner of Shiki’s mouth and the feline took a step back in fear, she had seen Shiki mad before but nothing like this, nothing as dangerous as this.

The blur of smoke and dust was upon Nova in a blink of an eye and Nova was on the floor, Shiki’s body hovering over her as a harsh gargle and shriek boiled from her mouth.

‘Shit, shit!’ Nova thought as she kneed the boar in the stomach and then rolled away before the fire could spill over her, the liquid flames pinching into the floor where she was laying.

Back in the stands, both Leonard and Danny started to realize that this wasn’t just friendly training anymore, but a full blown war.

“Okay, we have to stop this before they kill each other,” Leonard said as he got up to head over to the door, but he came to a stop when the door didn’t budge and the ogre turned back to the rat in panic.

“They locked the door.”

Nova climbed onto one of the mats as her friend eyed her like a predator to its prey.

“Shiki! You need to calm down! You won, is that what you want to hear?”

“I want to hear your face bashed into the wall!”

Nova leapt onto another patch of mattresses as the fire boar spat a fireball at her, the sparkling orange sphere engulfing the gym equipment as the feline had to pull her tail closer to her due to the heat.

The mountain cat vaulted off of the pile and tried to slip past Shiki to head for the door, but the cop was instantly on her, her strong hands gripping the back of Nova’s shirt and panic fizzled throughout the feline’s body at the thought of her scars showing. The feline realized that her friend was targeting her back with how her hands pulled at the fabric, she was the only one who knew about them.

“Shiki, let go! Please!”

“I’ll show you what I can do! I’ll give you my best shot!”

Without even thinking, Nova’s claws came out and she swiped, a loud roar of pain seizing the room as the grip on her loosened.

“Shiki! Oh my gosh!”

Nova looked over in horror to see three small cuts over the fire boar’s cheek, not deep enough to scar, but enough to where the scent of blood hit the humid air once again.

“I’m so sorry-”

“You’re weak.”

Nova’s eyes rose with shock as Shiki licked at one of the cuts that was near her mouth, her tusks now fully grown out and fire leaked from her mouth like a volcano, the liquid fire pooling at her feet.

‘She’s playing at your emotions, Nova. Don’t fall for it.’

“Shiki, you need to calm down, we are going to get hurt-”

“You’re weak!”

‘Don’t fall for it!’

“You’re weak for hiding it!”

Nova couldn't help but rub the back of her neck, the faintest scar barely poking out from her shirt as Ashur invaded her mind.

The fury that started to simmer in Nova’s gut was almost too much to bear, she had tried to reason, and even though the cat saw regret flash across the fire boar’s face it was too late and the feline let her full set of claws come out. She heard the hard bang of the door and guessed it was the two men trying to get in, but she gladly ignored it as her tail lashed back and forth.

“You know, you don’t have to project your sad little daddy issues onto me.”

Shiki let out an offended snort as she watched the long nails from Nova’s feet grow out and tap against the floor as the two of them started to circle each other, as if they were back in the days before yokai, before humans, just animals trying to survive.

Both of the females could hear the muffled screams from outside the room but Shiki kicked a mat in front of the door without looking as they continued to go around each other.

“At least it made me stronger, and not a fraidy-cat who can’t show herself.”

With a low roar Nova charged, her extended claws digging into the soft floor as she headed straight for Shiki, at the last second edging herself towards the left and then leaping upward with all four of her limbs, her claws sinking into her friend’s thigh.

A shriek echoed into the room and Shiki encased Nova in her arms and threw her off, sending the feline into a pile of mats and it falling over due to impact.

Back outside, Danny had gotten a worker to come and unlock the door while Leonard watched as Nova became a living nightmare. Her tail growing in fur size and her pupils were barely visible from where he stood and she had grown a few inches and he couldn’t help but wince as the feline hid from Shiki and then pounced from the shadows, her hands digging into the boar’s shoulders.

When Danny and the worker came back, the key was useless due to the mattress blocking the door.

“What do you think happened?” Danny asked no one in particular as Shiki slammed Nova into the glass wall to get her off her back and all three yoakis took a step back as they could finally hear the hollering and screams that were traveling between them.

“Daddy’s girl!”

“Weakling!”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“These yokai’s are unstable in their powers, we are going to have to wait until they calm down,” the employee instructed as Shiki took a hold of Nova’s shirt and threw her into the window, the clear sheet bouncing against her, the feline taking a few seconds to get up before she pounced at the fire boar, using her long legs to kick into her stomach and sent the officer rolling across the floor.

“They’ll kill each other if we wait!” Leonard reported as he eyed Nova’s long fangs, they were even longer than his as they passed her chin.

Both members of the Mud Dogz were beyond concern at what the girls could do to each other, with Shiki’s fire power and Nova’s flexibility they could go at it for hours, neither of them wanting to give in.

The women had attracted a crowd as the commotion extended past the semi sound-proof room and the two men had to keep yokai’s from recording it. But with them having the criminal look they had to give one death-glare and the mammal would put its phone down.

A long yowl bounced off the windows and the ogre and rat yokai turned just in time to see Shiki send Nova through the glass, her body sending the million shards of mirrors scattering across the gym floor as her beaten up body slid with it.

Her curled body stayed still as Shiki climbed through the broken glass, the smoke and fumes that flooded the room she was in as she threw herself onto the hard ground, the glass under her hooves as the yokai’s who had crowded around started to slowly back away.

Danny started to make his way over to his girlfriend but with one look he stood stiff in his spot. The fire that stormed in her eyes could barely scratch the surface of her powers, the cuts and bruises that coated her didn’t seem to bother her as she looked for where Nova had landed.

The rat couldn’t tell if he was utterly terrified or if he should make her mad more often.

“Restrain her!”

Two of the buff workers came up behind Shiki and held her arms back, then instantly wincing at the heat that radiated off of her.

Leonard had raced over to where Nova was laying and he could feel the harsh growls that were rumbling in her chest.

“Nova..”

Her eyes instantly opened and he was caught in the sunset of her face as she rose from the ground and her pupils landed on Shiki, and with one grunt she was on her feet and past the ogre.

“Move.”

The leader of the Mud Dogz swallowed as the feline took a stance and charged towards the fire boar, taking out the worker on the left with a kick and the one on the right with a shove as she took Shiki all for herself.

She had the officer in a dance as her lengthy body crawled over the cop like a bug, her nails digging into any part she could find before Shiki would blow a fireball at her.

“Should we...Should we do something?”

“I really don’t want to die today.”

Shiki finally got a hold of Nova and launched her across the building, the feline letting an earthy scream as her body came into contact with the front desk, the computer and paperwork flying as her body disappeared behind it.

Her white paws curled into the desk as she pulled herself up, her curly hair out of its ponytail and spilled over her face.

“You throw like your weakass mother!”

A wave of heat was jetted over to Nova and she quickly scaled the walls indented grooves of the gyms design, her nails creating long marks into the stainless wall.

Just as Nova pushed herself off the wall and reached for Shiki, a small grunt of surprise escaped her throat and she looked down to find a dart in her thigh. Shiki let out a squeal of shock as one lodged into her leg as well and they both started to wobble. The boar was the first to go down, her body crashing into the floor as the fire that was tussling around the corners of her mouth extinguished.

The tranquilizer that hit Nova was having a harder time making her fall asleep, her pupils shaking within her eyes as she fought to stay awake.

“Jeez, it’s like she’s been dosed before,” the worker who shot them said, making Leonard frown as another dart was poked into her other leg and the feline finally went down, her long fangs slowly shrinking back into her mouth and her tail going back to its thin length.

Both of the yokai were heavily wounded, Shiki was covered in scratches and bruises, a few bite marks were even covering her arms and blood mixed within her brown fur. Nova had burn marks over her, the tips of her fur in certain areas were singed off, both were breathing heavily, both were exhausted to the bone.

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

It had been over two weeks since that fight, and Shiki hadn’t seen or heard from Nova. Danny had taken her back to her apartment (after him and Leonard had to pay for the damage the girls had caused).

Shiki brushed her hand over one of her bandages and rolled her shoulders, the pulsing of the bruises that covered her back hisses with dull pain.

The fire boar sat on the stair of her fire escape as the city roared under her, the casual conversation of passing yokai poking into her hearing range.

The officer didn’t know what to do with the situation, even if she went up to Nova what would she say? I’m sorry for throwing up your trauma into your face like an asshole?

Of course the things that the feline spat back were...hurtful, they tore into Shiki’s heart like her claws, squeezing every drop of blood out.

Maybe this was a sign that Shiki couldn’t have friends, she was somehow lucky enough to have a healthy relationship with a criminal, the cop didn’t think that her luck would run dry with any friendship.

“Need some company?”

Shiki looked up to find the mountain cat hanging off the railing of the rusted fire escape, a grocery bag hanging off the tips of her fingers.

The feline had a healing black eye and even though she wore her usual wine colored jacket, Shiki could see the bundles of bandages as they pushed outward due to no room under the sleeves.

“Sure.”

Nova settled herself on the fire escape and sat on the ledge next to her, the boar yokai seeing the redness that poked through her torn leggings from the burns. The lights of the city blurred around Nova’s sides as she placed the bag next to Shiki’s legs.

“I brought your favorite.”

Shiki peeked into the bag and saw chocolate covered strawberries along with two handmade smoothes, one being a mixture of purple and the other was a bright pink.

“Did you steal these?”

Nova let out a snort as she reached down with her tail and picked up the purple drink.

“I don’t steal food, that department is taken by Mickey.”

It went silent between the two friends as they ate and drank in silence, Nova moving from the railing to sit next to Shiki on the step.

“How are your wounds?”

“They’ll heal, nothing I can’t handle. Yours?”

“You definitely got claws, you’ll make some yokai happy one day.”

The feline bit into one of the strawberries and stared at it in her hands.

“I want you to know that I’m not using these treats as an apology,” Nova started and as Shiki looked up at her the cat looked away.

“I don’t know what exactly happened with your dad, and for me to remind you of him or even bring him up to coax you into fighting. I don’t even know how to begin the word sorry for what I’ve done.”

“Nova-”

“Leonard was scared of me when I came to, like I was a different animal. When I...when I get like that I don’t recall much of what happened. I just know what I said was wrong, what happened was wrong. I’m sorry, Shiki.”

The fire boar was silent as she took in the somber words and she finished her fruit to push the tears back.

“I’m a lot alike with my father than I would like to admit, and I shouldn’t have let my rage get in the way, I shouldn’t have been like him during that battle.”

“He hurt you, didn’t he?”

The tears that were silent against the cop’s face were now loud and clear and shined bright like shooting stars.

“Yeah...yeah he did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Who hurt you?”

Nova leaned into her friend’s arm as she let out her own shaky sigh, her own eyes trying to keep the tears at bay.

“His name is Ashur… You can call him my ex or whatever, but uh...He didn’t like it when I disobeyed his rules,” the female choked out and she buried her face in Shiki’s arm as a sob got caught in her throat.

“I’m sorry, Nova.”

Shiki rested her head on top of Nova’s as they took in each other’s presence, the comforting stillness between them was like a bank full of snow; quiet and undisturbed.

The fire boar decided not to press Nova any further about her past, just like the feline didn’t press on what her father did to her.

“Maybe you should tell, Leonard. Out of all of us, I think he would understand the most.”

“You know,” Nova coughed out, the side of her fingers wiping the corner of her eyes to conceal the tears and forced a laugh out.

“You and Leonard are a lot alike.”

“Really? Why do you say that.”

“You both want to be stronger because your shitty dads wanted to be assholes for some reason. But, it’s their loss, those weak excuses of men don’t deserve you both in their lives.”

Shiki let out a shifted chuckle as she took a long drink from her smoothie.

“You’re not weak by the way. This Assur guy better watch his back if he ever comes around, because not only will he have to deal with you, but the rest of us as well.”

“Did….Did you just call him Assur?”

"What's the difference?"

Their laughter hit the night sky as they continued on to eat their snacks and went onward to talk about other things and even talked about the fight they had, going over the strategies and techniques that they can share with each other in the next round.

With Leonard and Danny in the room next time, of course.

#rottmnt #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt mud dogz #tmnt #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt loathsome leonard #rottmnt oc #fanfic #rottmnt mud dogz loathsome leonard #rottmnt mud dogz dastardly danny

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ifyoulovemeletmebinge · 3 years

Text

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster.

for @beingforcedtolivebadwriting

RATED M

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean Winchester knows he hates monsters.

That’s one thing. It’s almost the first thing. In almost every situation.

Dean wakes up and all he can think of is how much he hates monsters.

Some of it comes from the fact that John is a shitty dad and that’s not because of him being a shitty dad. Dean can’t remember much at all from his life before the fire, but from what John tells him, they were The Perfect American Family. He knows that at least.

He also knows that because monsters fucked that dynamic up for his family, he hates them unconditionally.

None of that has been truer than how he feels tonight. Tonight, his hands are still shifty on the wheel of the Impala, tonight his feet are still struggling to reach the brake pedal without stretching, and tonight the sky is pitch black and the air is warm and humid, and tonight he’s gonna kill some monsters.

Well. Maybe not.

John’s instructions were to stop by (by which he means break in) the morgue, take an extra look at the bodies, and identify any marks that stand out for a tell of what kind of son of a bitch they were dealing with.

John usually does this himself, but Dean thought it best to not bring up the fact that his dad needs to drink himself to blissful unconsciousness on the week of the anniversary of his dead wife. The case was bad timing, thus, Dean is the lucky pick to do the dirty work.

Not that he minds. This is something he wants to do. This is something he craves. Dean has been getting taller and bigger and stronger, and his hands have been itching more, and he can’t stop shifting his weight, and lately he feels like doing something that will fully transition him into the man he’s supposed to be. Except all he knows is John, and John is a hunter.

But Dean doesn’t mind. He’s good with a gun, and he’s a quick runner (he would have joined the track team if John had let them stay past Christmas break at his last school), and if that’s all he’s got, he’ll use it to do something. He’ll figure it out.

He’d way prefer to risk himself getting arrested, and going to juvie (again), than Sammy. Sammy, who’s back at the motel. Sammy who’s hopefully, peacefully sleeping. Sammy, who he hopes won’t be awake to see John come back from the bar. Dean intends to make it back before that. It’s only 11pm. He’s got time.

Dean parks the Impala (he only struggles for a few seconds with it, alright) a couple blocks down from the police station. His shoulders crowd up around his ears, cotton of his sweatshirt brushing his jaw, as he walks, as silent as he can, between the shadows of the decorative trees in this stupid suburb, to the back of the station.

He’s already scouted the place earlier in the day, so he knows which window leads to the desired formaldehyde smelling room. The station is only one story high, so he’s easily able to unlatch the outside lock with his pocket knife, and heave himself up. He shimmies himself in (fuck, that window’s tight) and ends up doing a supported handstand on the morgue floor. He throws his legs to the side--only hurting his ankles a little on the edge of the window--and then he’s finally got both his feet on the ground.

Dean stands up from his crouch, slowly. Then he scoffs to himself. Who the fuck is gonna hear him in here?

He moves closer to where the target is. There’s a sleek metal table in front of him, and yes, there’s a dead person on it, covered by a thin white sheet. Dean searches for gloves in the dark, because he’s a teenage boy but he’s not that gross, and he snaps them on, pulling back the sheet and averting his eyes from the corpse’s face. He goes straight to where the money is.

At the junction between the corpse’s shoulder and jaw, right in the middle of the neck, there’s a big bite. It’s not anything his dad has seen before, as he kept complaining so much since they found the case, and Dean has to swallow back bile at how ugly it looks. Black and protruded, half scaly-like, half-raw ripped skin, at least under the moonlight coming from the window. He should have brought a flashlight.

Dean is cataloging the patterns to draw for his dad later, tracing his fingers over the lines carefully, really feeling the texture and the way it’s swollen the skin. He thinks he imagines the sound at first.

Then he stops his hand, and he thinks again.

That’s definitely a sound. Like a real movement that wasn’t him, and it’s coming—it came at least—from the room right next door, the main storage for the other bodies. Dean turns his head to look at the door, and oh, would you look at that, it’s peeking open to more darkness on the other side. Where the sound came from. Except how is there a sound at a morgue in the dead of night?

Dean was not prepared for this. His heartbeat starts announcing itself in his ears, and he’s almost vibrating with fear. He thinks of his dad. What would John do at a time like this? Probably start shooting.

But Dean didn’t have a gun. Even if he did, it could just be the doctor, or a policeman staying after (they always got in his way), and he can’t go around shooting random people. It’s hard to explain to a dead person: “Hey! Sorry! Thought you were a monster! My bad!”

Then he remembers his pocket knife, whips it out, and holds it tight in his right fist. Dean starts walking towards the door, but he wants to knock the whole wall down and skeet the fuck out of there.

He holds his breath as he gently kicks the door with the tip of his boot (he figured out a way to make Sam convince John to get him new ones, and yeah, these loggers are pretty fucking cool), and then he’s in the room.

The first thing he notices when his eyes adjust to how dark it is in there (honestly, would it kill a monster to turn on a light?), is the two figures bent over what he assumes is another poor corpse being taken advantage of. He also hears… ew. Those are chomping and chewing noises. He never gets the clean ones.

Dean doesn’t know what to do! Does he shout? Scare them? Lunge at them? Anything he does next could be the last thing he does. Is he ready to die?

Luckily, Dean doesn’t have to decide his first move because the figures do it for him.

It happens too fast—and maybe he’s reading too many comics because his first thought is I wish I had super speed like Barry so I could gank these fuckers, except he doesn’t, so it’s fast.

He’s on his back in a blink. There’s a bony arm on his neck and another holding one of his wrists in a grip so tight Dean wants to make a eulogy for his circulation. There’s also a normal-ish weight on his hips and his stomach, which suddenly lurches because fuck. Fuck. The monster’s on him, he’s pinned. And for some reason he’s still alive.

Still. Fuck.

After a moment of heaving breathing from the guy on top of him, the figure lurking around, and his own wheezing lungs, Dean grunts out: “You guys gonna eat me or what?”

The guy above him doesn’t let up, but Dean does feel the other one walking around. Like the ground shakes with his every step as he comes closer to Dean’s ears near the floor.

“Personally,” says Figure 2 from way above him, and Dean feels disoriented at how far away his voice sounds, “I’m fairly content. My son here, however… well, he’s just famished.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the guy on him, trying to make out his features but it’s just too dark, and all he can feel is the terribly tight grip on his wrist, the way his forearm is crushing on his neck, and—hey. His pocket knife is still in his hand. His free hand, the one trapped under the small of his back, where he can feel the butt of the handle digging into his skin slightly.

“Go on, son.”

Figure 1, aka The Son, seems to be hesitating, and Dean doesn’t want to wait till he decides if he wants more salt on him or not before the meal, so he wriggles his hand out, and drives it across his body and downwards in a surprisingly strong stroke. He knows he hit something when the arms on top of him lift up entirely, and there’s a pained groan resounding amid the darkness.

He rolls on his side, scrambles up, and flies out of the room, back into the main morgue lab, through the door, down and down the long hallway, past the reception desk, and he’s out the main entrance, not caring one bit about the obnoxious ringing of the alarm behind him.

His calves are burning by the time he throws himself in the Impala, and he clumsily fishes out his dad’s keys, turning the car on. He drives 50 above the speed limit until he gets to the motel.

Dean tells John everything. He draws what he remembers with shaky hands. He neglects to mention how many of them there were.

<15 years later>

“And then, like a fucking Clint Eastwood movie, he comes back home--”

“You mean the motel?” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, whatever. So he barges in the door--” Dean frames a rectangle with his hands “--silhouetted by the moonlight, and he tucks his gun in and he swings his dirty machete over his shoulder and he tilts his head and then he says: ‘Boy, pack your stuff. Our job here is done.’ I mean… it was fucking awesome,” Dean chuckles.

“I think your memory is unreliable.”

“Sam, you were dead to the world that night. On my bed, might I add, so you didn’t even see any of this. John kicked ass!”

Eileen’s smile is a little forced, and a little awkward, but Dean can’t blame her. His energy is hard to match when he’s a few beers in. Sam keeps eyeing her, like he's checking in on how she’s receiving this story about their dad. Like she would ever judge him for it.

“He sounds like a brave hunter,” she signs and says. Dean feels way too proud.

Sam tries and fails to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah. Babe, is it late? We should…” he trails off, tilting his head in the direction of their bedrooms. Eileen nods in agreement, seeming relieved. She squeezes Dean’s hands as she leaves. Sam is standing now, and he waits until Eileen is gone to turn his bitchface on.

“Dean, please stop doing that.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Praising dad. I don’t know, sugarcoating him, painting him as the hero. You know damn well he wasn’t.”

Dean’s throat tightens. If that’s what Sam thinks he was doing, he really doesn’t know him at all. He's full of indignation when he answers: “That’s the last thing that I would do. I know firsthand, more than you, how shitty John was. Sam, I know. I was telling the story how I remembered it. ‘Cause back then? Yeah, he was my hero. I’m old enough to know better now, but--what the fuck do you care? You think I’m purposely lying to Eileen? For what?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Dean, no that’s not what I-I just can’t hear that shit. It makes me… uncomfortable. I don’t wanna talk about dad like that anymore. I'd rather not talk about him at all, actually! I just… I can’t hear that shit from you.”

Dean balks, mouth open. He scoffs, “Fine.” He stands up and puts his jacket back on, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet.

He’s halfway up the stairs when Sam calls from the library, “Dean, come on. Let’s talk about this. Or not! Dude, we just got back from a hunt, don’t leave. Let just-let’s forget about it, alright?”

Dean pauses at the railing. He turns around and shouts down at Sam: “Yeah, sure, Sammy! Let's forget our whole heritage. It never fucking mattered to you anyways.”

He’s slamming the door to the bunker closed behind him, and hopping in the Impala (which he didn’t have time to wash or put in the garage since their hunt), and then he’s off god knows where. He needs a drink.

Dean picks the fourth bar/restaurant place he sees. That seems like far enough away from his brother for now. It’s one he hasn’t gone to yet. Fun, new, and exciting!

He’s working on his third whiskey, maybe half an hour after he arrived, when the bartender puts down another glass in front of him.

Dean glances up. “Hey, um. I’m good for now, really.”

The bartender is tying his long cornrows in a ponytail on the back of his head, and when he meets Dean’s eyes, he gives him a shit-eating grin. He nods off to the side, “Courtesy of your secret admirer.” Then he winks at him and leaves for the kitchen behind him. Dean feels all warm inside at that, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it before a man sits down on the stool next to him, a non-respectable four inch distance away.

Dean is appalled before he takes in this dude, and okay. Not bad. Looks about the same age, dresses like a grandpa from the trenchcoat he sees, has spiky black hair that Dean might want to run his hands through, and shit, fuck, he’s looking at Dean, say something!

“Hello,” the man says and whoa, who died and made you Batman? His lips are plumper than a guy’s lips usually are (look who’s talking, Dean) and chapped and they’ve got a nice shape. Dean likes the cupid’s arch on his upper lip, it looks classy. His nose is pointy, and maybe a bit small, but damn if it doesn’t work well with his sharp cheekbones. By the time Dean can register his eyes, all his brain can think of is wow.

Dean’s never seen bluer eyes. They’re as clear as the sky, but Dean feels like he could drown in them. Or maybe that’s just the way this man is looking at him. Dean’s rarely been stared at with this much intensity, and he feels a blush spread to the tips of his hot ears.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” Dean has to look away now, back to his own glass before he combusts. He’s surprised a dude like him would buy him a drink.

Apparently, the man can’t sense how awkward and unprepared Dean was for this because he starts talking again, keeping his voice low so that only Dean can hear him, so it’s only a rumble in his chest. “I hope I’m not overstepping. You looked like you needed some company. Is that the kind you like to drink?”

Dean is so flustered at the sheer… whatever this dude has, he has to remind himself this is a normal human interaction. Be nice. Make eye contact.

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s great. Thanks. For buying it. Um, I’m kinda driving tonight, though, so I might want to stop at this--” Dean raises his own drink in his hand “--You can-you want it? I'd be a waste otherwise.” He’s cringing so bad inside that his stomach hurts.

The man levels him a neutral stare. A few seconds later, he nods and reaches over to pick up the extra whiskey. Dean follows his hands and fuck they’re nice. He’s got long fingers, and for some reason the way his metacarpals shift under his skin is incredibly attractive.

The fun doesn’t stop there though, because then the guy is bringing the glass to his mouth, and he’s not taking his eyes off Dean’s own wide ones, and he’s taking a drink and it all looks sinful. The way his trachea shifts as he swallows, the opening and closing of his enticing jaw, and especially the way his pink tongue peeks out from his mouth to lick at the rim of the glass.

Dean swallows what feels like sandpaper.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, putting the glass down, holding it between his hands like he's bracketing it. He shifts his hands and the glass follows, rotating back and forth.

“Dean.”

Castiel nods, his lips quirk up a little, and this might be the first sort-of smile Dean has seen from him.

“Why’d you buy me a drink?” he blurts out.

The grin grows by a millimeter. “You looked like you needed one.”

Dean snorts. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe that good.” Dean sees a peek of teeth from Castiel and he can’t help but shiver.

Dean recognizes it for what it is, so he turns on his own charm, slipping into familiar flirting territory.

“So what do you do, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for the quickest moment, and then his mouth is a neutral plane again, smirk vanishing completely. He thinks for a few seconds. “I’m an accountant.”

Dean knows that could mean literally anything, except the guy is wearing a tie and there’s a trenchcoat, so yeah. He’s an accountant for real.

“Cool. Numbers, huh?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, like he’s squinting. Dean finds it both intimidating and endearing. “Yes. How about you, Dean?”

He blushes harder at hearing his name in that gravelly voice, but keeps his cool when he answers, rehearsed: “Odd jobs, here and there.”

Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Fascinating.”

Dean blinks. Okay. “Is it?”

“Yes. You must travel a lot.”

“I do, yeah,” he nods, feeling a little vulnerable.

Castiel is back to staring at him intensely, and it makes Dean’s veins sizzle a little with want. They’re upgrading from Flirting/Small Talk Territory to Let’s Go Like Now Territory. Dean’s breathing comes a little deeper.

“Would you like to travel right now?”

“What?”

Castiel is definitely looking at his mouth. “Would you like to go outside?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. This guy does not waste time. Not that he’s complaining, he’s been feeling hot all over since Castiel sat down, and he’d give himself at most another half an hour before he proposed they move this interaction somewhere else himself. So Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, feels the buzz in his ears and the tips of his fingers, and he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Castiel follows him outside.

The night is more humid than it should be for August, but Dean can feel the chill of Fall coming, and he’s grateful for his jacket. He’s shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he walks to the corner where the sidewall of the bar meets the front wall of it. He stops and leans one shoulder right at the edge of the wall to the side, facing the parking lot. Out of options for what to say, Dean waits until Castiel comes closer (his hands are in his trench coat pockets and it’s weirdly cute), and he points at his Baby, thirty feet away.

“That’s my car. She’s my Baby.”

Castiel stops two feet away from him, but right in front, and he turns his body to the side to follow where Dean’s finger points. He stares at the Impala for a bit, before he turns his head to Dean again. The light coming from inside the restaurant is what brightens Castiel’s face and Dean is a little breathless as he admires his illuminated features.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Dean smiles, proud and sheepish. “Thanks. Um, what about yours?”

Castiel inhales, taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t drive here tonight. I like walking.” he says slowly.

“Oh, okay.” Dean answers stupidly. It’s not that he’s disappointed they can’t talk about cars, it’s just… what else are they supposed to talk about at a moment like this?

“So what brought you here tonight, Cas?” Dean doesn’t catch himself in time, and the nickname is out. Oops. Castiel seems to inflate a little in response though, so he’s fine. For now.

“Rough day.” He says, then like an afterthought he adds, “At work.”

This dude is so fucking weird. Dean is obsessed with him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, he just wants to take what Castiel offered. He’s been wanting to taste him since he looked at his lips, so he smirks at Castiel and he asks, “Come here, Cas.”

For a moment Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t figure him out, and he kinda loves that, the anticipation of not knowing what this guy is gonna do or who he is. Dean beckons him with a hand. He’s drunk enough on the beers from earlier and the whiskey and the adrenaline drop from the finished hunt that he’s allowing himself this tonight. A little recklessness can’t hurt.

Castiel walks closer than Dean expected him to, and Dean turns to press his back to the side wall, his shoulder barely off the edge where the front and side connect. Castiel follows the twist of his body perfectly because suddenly he’s crowding Dean against the small space with his hands on either side of his head on the wall. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Dean loves the way the air shifts then, like someone pulled a lever down and the current of electricity started running. They’re breathing each other’s air, and Castiel’s eyes are glued to Dean’s mouth, while Dean alternates his staring between Castiel’s darkened eyes and those chapped lips. Dean feels like he's vibrating.

He forces his hands to unfreeze and brush the trench coat flaps aside, coming to rest on top of Castiel’s hips, over his belt. This moves their bodies closer still, Dean subconsciously opening his legs wider to let Castiel slot a knee in between them. Their hips press, Dean shivers, and then he shivers even more when he feels Castiel’s lips pressing against his.

It’s exactly like he imagined, except it’s about a thousand times better. Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant, and he presses brushing kisses and pecks Dean’s lips for a bit, leaving them tingling for more, until he starts to really get into it. Castiel softly clamps his mouth around Dean’s bottom lip and he pulls back, and Dean is so fucked. He tries to keep his knees from wobbling, and then he gets what he wants when Castiel presses forward again, kissing him open mouthed, and there is his tongue, and it tastes really sweet and Dean feels positively intoxicated.

He can’t remember when he closed his eyes, but there are fireworks exploding behind them, and his dick is saying “Hell, yeah!” and he’s tilting his head to kiss Castiel deeper, chasing more of his mouth and his taste and his smell. His hands are gripping Castiel’s hips in a vice.

Dean can’t help the moan he lets out when Castiel’s tongue does a thing, and he also can’t help his surprise when Castiel pulls back abruptly after the sound has registered. His shock is almost overshadowed by the crude things his brain is thinking when he takes in Castiel, whose lips are shiny and wet, and whose pupils are enormous.

Dean holds his breath, furrows his eyebrows, and waits. Castiel is looking at him, pained.

“Dean, I can’t,” he whispers.

There is a moment, and then Dean blinks, understanding everything. He’s a little upset, but mostly embarrassed, except his brain can’t fully express that, so it’s put through a well-oiled machine that converts it into anger. Now, that he can do.

He’s pushing Castiel off him, walking five steps away then pivoting and walking back. He repeats this path, running a hand down his face as Castiel just fucking stands there, looking at him sadly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean bites out.

“Dean, I can-” Casties tries.

“No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whirls around to stare right at Castiel a few feet away. Castiel’s shoulders fall and it enrages Dean even more.

“You know what, Cas? Go fuck yourself. You got some issues to figure out, and it’s not gonna be with me. Go to hell, asshole.” Dean spits out, fixing Castiel with a furious stare, feeling his jaw tick in anger, and then he’s stomping away.

As he gets closer to the Impala, he crosses his arms, feeling indignation constrict his chest. This is not the first time this has happened with Dean and unfortunately, he thinks it probably won’t be the last.

Damn it. A guy like that? Probably has a pretty little wife, probably hides his wedding band right in his front pocket, which Dean completely skipped on his way to grab at Castiel’s ass. He groans internally as he rounds the back of the car till he reaches the driver’s door. He’s going home with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He hears as he fishes out his keys and puts the right one in the slot to unlock the door, and hey, Castiel’s voice is much closer than he expected, but Dean doesn’t have time to turn around and yell at him some more because suddenly the ground is completely gone from under his feet. Dean’s vision goes blinding white, and then pitch black.

The pain finally registers on the back of his head, and the last thing he sees before he's out, is the key chain dangling from the lock on the Impala’s door.

****

The world slowly slots back together as Dean wakes up. There’s four, then three, then two, and then it all merges into one again. Dean acutely feels the pouding in his head.

He’s… laying down? Yeah, he’s on a bed. The mattress is nice. There's even a thin blanket on top of him, dark grey. He turns his head to the side-nope, that’s a wall-tries the other side and okay good, there’s the rest of the room. He feels a little less claustrophobic now that he’s seen the whole space. It’s dark just because the lights are off. It looks like a normal basement, unfinished ceiling and all, with boxes stacked in the corner covering a whole wall. There’s a couch facing him, parallel to the bed, and there’s a figure sitting there. Dean eyes his phone, wallet, car keys, and pocket knife on a night stand next to the bed. It’s just out of his reach.

He pinches his eyes shut, wiggles his toes in his boots (no brain damage done, yay), and then he groans out: “What can I do for ya, Mr. Monster?”

When he opens his eyes, Castiel has turned one of the overhead light bulbs on. He looks serious.

“Firstly, I want to apologize, Dean. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I didn’t plan for it.”

Dean is more than confused. “What.”

Castiel stands up from his couch, he’s only in his suit now, tie loosened, and damn Dean’s stupid (probably concussed) brain, but he still looks yummy. Monster, Dean. Focus.

Castiel crosses his arms, and plants his feet. He keeps a very respectable distance away from the bed, and Dean’s gut twists at the thought that he was playing him all along.

“I didn’t… want to seduce you. I just wanted to talk. I might have derailed from my plan slightly.”

Dean’s jaw ticks. “And what was that amazing plan of yours, Castiel? If that’s your real name.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean’s tone. He huffs a breath out his nose, frowning.

“You know, Dean, you may not remember me, but I remember you. Fifteen years ago, your father killed my father, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breaths out after a few seconds of stunned silence, propping himself up to fully sit up on the bed. He feels his bruised brain click things together. “You’re the second one. You survived.”

Castiel is silent, and that’s all the confirmation Dean needs to know he was pinned down by this guy way before tonight.

Dean laughs. “What kind of fucked up revenge plot is this? You’ve been stalking me for years? Well, then you must know my father died of alcohol poisoning almost a decade ago. It was ugly and painful, and you missed your chance, asshole.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says sternly, “I didn’t want to kill your father. And I don’t want to kill you. That’s not why I ended up kidnapping you tonight. I’m grateful for what your father did for me.”

Dean does a double take, swings his feet off the bed and onto the ground. “You’re what?”

“This may come as a surprise, but not every monster is a monster. Not fully, anyway. I’m half-human. And I need your help to go all the way.”

#no i didnt beta this f off <3 #this IS the craziest thing ive ever written but i had to be realistic here #monster!cas has different motivations and slightly different characterization bc.... well he's a monster #hopefully ill get part 2 up by the end of the weekend!!!!#i hope you enjoyed this im kinda scared to post it im not too sure about it but it was fun to be in dean's head again :)#my destiel fanfic #destiel fanfic

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orayoho · 4 years

Text

haikyuu!! to the top - episode 1 review

in summary, they’re all dorks. I hope everyone has watched the episode by now because I am feeling way too many things.

- hinata, a bundle of sunshine, packs a breakfast, a second breakfast, snacks, AND a lunch

- what the hell stop being so pure

- shimizu kiyoko is still gorgeous, yachi hitoka is still adorable, humanity still has hope

- a few more years were added onto my life when I heard yamaguchi say “tsukki”

- how suga told kageyama to say “ I learned everything I know from magnificent senpai called sugawara-san “ if interviewers asked

- nishinoya has taken a liking to jumping on peoples backs and doing handstands

- his victims so far have been kageyama and hinata

- tsukishima still keeps in touch with bokuto and kuroo !!

- hinata biked up a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm do you know how hard that is

- but the little shit snuck in to a training camp at shiratorizawa

- the school his team JUST beat in the finals

-if that isn't a power move I dont know what is

- he even got a travel toothbrush set in preparation for his infiltration, what a cutie

- the only reason that stopped hinata from going to tokyo was the fact that he might get arrested

-that was the only flaw he could find in his plan

- tsukishima had to stop himself from calling hinata “boke”

- he realized that he was becoming kageyama and had to draw the fucking line

- ukai jr shouting at hinata hoarse only to be stopped by takeda, who had the power to remotely make the poor kid bow into a table

- they're tired parents how do they deal with karasuno

- goshiki, kindaichi, and koganegawa having a bonding moment over how they all got their asses kicked by karasuno lmao

- suga going into shock after hearing what hinata did

- noya and tanaka being proud of their kouhai

- yamaguchi spitting out his water

- daichi mentally planning his hours long lecture for when hinata comes back to karasuno

- kageyama is jared, 19

- you have no idea how happy I was to see that ONE panel with oikawa and iwaizumi in the new style

- “MY POSITION IS BALL BOY” ok honey calm down

- the assistant coach holding back laughter made me wheeze even more

- the banana peel jacket is now animated, im sorry sakusa but your team’s jacket is absolutely hilarious

- the lingering panels on hoshiumi and atsumu, foreshadowing who is she

life’s a little better now that new episodes of haikyuu are streaming again. the training camp arcs are so great, especially for hinata, and saturday mornings for the next few months are reserved for the boys.

everybody say thank you to furudate-sensei and the amazing producers behind the show and manga!

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 4 years

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The Towa Assault.

[Towa City, Towa Tower, 8:02pm]

Aah...I remember the good old days when this place used to be my...

Sorry...OUR base of operations...

So...we’re really doing this?

Yeah...It’s now, or never...!

So...do we have a plan?

Hm? Don’t need one.

*Splutter* Wh-What!? B-But there could be a whole damn army in there!

It doesn’t matter how many of them are in there...!

Agreed. I’m not in the mood for strategizing...

Why not!?

Can’t you tell? These guys probably aren’t all that smart.

If they’re dumb enough to hurt Komaru, then they’re basically asking us to teach them a lesson.

Ugh...seriously?

*Nagisa gives up complaining and walks with the other warriors towards the door to the tower.

Hey! What should I do?

Stay out here and be useless?

Seriously!?

No, I need you to do a job for me.

Stand guard here and strike down any assholes who try to escape.

Oh! I get it. Mwehehe! Gotcha!

*Inside the tower, several of the adults are lounging around when the Warriors step in.

Hey! Tower’s off limits to everyone but us assholes. Or did you miss the sign?

W-Wait a second! Y-You’re-

Hey guys. So this is the building where you cut off my Big Sis’s leg, huh!?

Not another step!

We’re gonna ask you this once. Where is Haiji Towa?

You really think we’re gonna tell you shit?

We want your boss, not you trash...!

What he said.

Shut the fuck up! Fine then, if you want a fight, bring it on!

I thought you’d never say that...!

[Music]

Get them!

Hragh!

UGH!

*Two of the goons rush at the Warriors of Hope, but Masaru delivers two decisive fists to their gut.

Eat this!

AAH!

*Nagisa shoots three others with his plasma gun.

Hragh!

*Masaru punches the 6th one out cold.

C’mon! Let’s go!

*The warriors burst into the next room.

What the hell-Hey!

HRAAAGGGH!!

AAAAAHHH!!

*Quick as a flash, Masaru runs up to the nearest goon and punches his arm hard enough to break it. He then gets behind him and knocks him out with an elbow to the head.

RAGH!

RAGAH!

*A second enemy tries to attack Masaru with a knife, but Kotoko brings out her axe and counters.

What the hell is going on in here!?

*A few other enemies step into the room.

Dammit! There’s no end to them! THIS is why we should have thought of a plan!

*Nagisa says this as he begins to shoot electric rounds at the enemies.

Well, it’s a little late now. I wouldn’t worry.

*Jataro readies a bomb and throws it towards the crowd of goons.

AAAACCCK!!

*The bomb explodes and throws all of them at the wall, knocking them out.

C’mon! We gotta hurry! Haiji’s probably getting ready to escape!

Y-You’re not going ANYWHEEEEEERRE!

Ah!

H-Hey! What gives!

Shit!

*One of the enemies that Masaru defeated before gets up on his arms and knees and firmly grabs Masaru and Jataro.

*BAM!*

There they are! KILL THEM ALL!

JUST! STAY! DOWN!

*Jataro tries to pry himself free of the mans grip while Masaru kicks him repeatedly in the head.

Guys! Go! We’ll be fine!

Yeah, but-

Did you not hear him!? We need to go!

Right...Good luck you guys!

If you find Haiji before us, teach him a lesson he’ll never forget!

*BAM!*

*Kotoko and Nagisa kick open another door.

There they are! Kick their asses!

*There are three enemies in the hallway. Two of them rush at the Warriors while the third pulls out a gun.

Hragh!

Gagh!

Oof!

Ugh!

*Kotoko and Nagisa deliver heavy blows to the two goons faces.

Duck!

Wah!

*Monaca’s shout allows Nagisa to just narrowly dodge an incoming bullet.

Sheesh! That was close!

Hm...

Got it!

*Monaca suddenly grabs one of the two goons and holds him in front of her. The other man readies his gun, and aims.

W-Wait! Don’t shoot!

Tcch! You fucking coward! Let go of him!

Heheheheheee...And why would I do that?

*Monaca slowly draws closer towards the man with the gun, alongside her hostage. She powers up her drill as she draws near.

Aah...Aaaah...!

*The man panics.

...

Sike!

AABABBABABABBA!!!

*Monaca suddenly ducks, and as she does, Nagisa shoots an electric charge over her head, hitting the man dead on.

Nice shot!

*Monaca throws her hostage against the wall and gives him a concussion by whacking him on the head with the drill. The three of them rush towards a set of stairs.

Found them! Now let’s kick their ass!

*There are another 4 enemies at the top of the stairs. One of them has a gun.

Ugh! Seriously!? Did gun laws in the country change in the 8 years I’ve been gone!?

No, they’re the same as ever...

Just another reason for us to lay waste to these guys! RAAAGH!

HAHAA!

*Kotoko and Monaca run into the unarmed guys, taking them down with their weapons. Nagisa begins to shoot past them at the man with the gun.

Bitch!

*He aims at Monaca and pulls the trigger. Monaca uses her drill to deflect the bullet and runs at him.

Too slow...!

AAH!

*She runs the drill in the center of his chest and activates it, sending him spinning around at a ludicrous speed. He flies off the drill and crashes into the wall, leaving a dent.

Not much farther now! Let’s go!

Hey! Guys!

You’re ok!

Masaru! Jataro! You guys are alright!?

Pfft! They were nothing!

Come on! Let’s go! There’s no time to waste!

Hm?

AH! EVERYBODY GET DOWN!

WAH!

AAH!

HAAH!

*Nagisa knocks everyone except Monaca down as the men at the top of the next staircase throw down a grenade.

Hm? Grenades? I’ll show you grenades! Serial Killer Bomb Punishment!

*In what seems like an extraordinary feat for someone like him, Jataro runs up the stairs, bounds off the wall and lobs one of his bombs up the stairs. There is a lot of screaming and then an explosion.

Ghaha! *cough* *cough!*

...

*The warriors emerge from the smoke, brandishing their methods of attack.

I’ll kill ya!

Woah! He’s got a gun!

Enough with the guns already!

RAGH!

*Kotoko smashes the guy with her axe and Masaru runs in and delivers a heavy blow to his skull.

Hmph!

*As several guys rush at Monaca, she plants her drill into the ground and handstands on top of it. She activates it and she begins to spin around.

OOF!

ACK!

HAACK!

OW!

*She spreads her legs out and kicks any of the enemies who come near her.

Nagisa! Shoot this!

Huh? Got it!

*Jataro throws a bomb and Nagisa shoots it midair. The electricity in the gun supercharges the bomb.

Duck and cover!

*Kotoko, Nagisa, Monaca, Masaru and Jataro all jump behind some furniture in the room as the bomb explodes. All the enemies in the room are knocked back and smash into the walls.

I can’t believe that worked...!

...Hey...? How far left to go?

...If I remember correctly...

Right...If Haiji is here, then he’s gonna be right through that door.

Then let’s go rip him a new one!

*CRASH*

Th-They’re here!

*Masaru breaks the door open.

...!?

What the...?

Teenage Girl: Teehehe!

Other Teenage Girl: Haha!

*The sight that the the warriors walk in on is a...strange one. A catwalk seems to be set up in the middle of the room, with 4 girls, at least 14 years old, doing a strut dance on it.

Wow...8 Years and my brother hasn’t changed a bit...

This is sick...!

*The girls continue their dance, and for the finale, they all get on their knees, to reveal a man standing in the middle of their circle...

...And voila...Like the performance?

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

*Clapping* Not bad actually. If it wasn’t for how morally screwed up it is, then I’d be cheering those girls on!

...

Mmyeees?

*Sigh* And here I was thinking that this whole situation couldn’t get any worse...

And then YOU show up...after all these years...Is the universe trying to spite me?

I ran out of oxygen tanks, so I came back home to grab some more. I thought I’d stop by for a bit though.

Why does your reason keep changing!?

Well, as weird as it sounds, I’m actually glad you guys are here. I have something I need to show you.

*Haiji leans in to the showgirls.

Girls. You might wanna get out of here. Things are gonna get a little gruesome, ok?

*The girls giggle and briskly walk away.

Now...let’s get this party started...!

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa ultra despair girls #drae #haiji towa #monaca towa #nagisa shingetsu #masaru daimon #kotoko utsugi #jataro kemuri #kurokuma #ultra despair gang arc

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

Note

9 and 10, shiro ship or voltron ship of your choice :D

trope mash-up prompts

this is pure silliness tbh

9 & 10 — Dance AU + Airport/Travel AU with Shallureith

A twelve-hour layover on paper didn’t seem that bad. They were all together so they could take turns taking naps, and there was a nice reprieve in being stuck in an airport. It was like a break from reality, an excuse to eat doughnuts cross-legged on the floor and watch Netflix at 3 PM. Or at least that’s what Allura kept telling herself. By hour nine, though, it was becoming apparent that her theory didn’t work so well off paper.

Shiro was working through his series of physical therapy stretches, less because he actually needed to and more because he’d finished the book he was reading. Keith, meanwhile, had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes because he’d sat still for a grand total of thirty. Propping herself up from where she’d been laying back on the floor, Allura huffed out an exhale and eyed the both of them. As if following some unspoken cue, Keith paused in his pacing to meet her eye, and Shiro lifted an eyebrow in question.

“We could play a card game,” she offered. Canting his head, Shiro seemed to consider it, but Keith’s nose wrinkled in distaste. Despite being the one to offer it, Allura sympathized; her legs itched with restless energy, a need to move, and not just sit and occupy her mind. “I have an idea,” Shiro said, “but uh…it’s dumb.” Naturally, that seemed to pique Keith’s curiosity, and he inched closer. Allura stifled her laughter but inclined her head. “I’m okay with dumb,” she said. “It’s midnight and we’ve run out of snacks.” Their backpacks got stashed under the seats, and within five minutes, they were on the moving sidewalk. Shiro, as the one with the idea, got to lead, and Allura had to fight back giggles as he directed them into plies. It was the same combination he always fell into when he was warming up or teaching a class on the fly, and they were synchronized as they sunk into a grand plié in fifth. At the end of the track, Keith took over and they move onto fondus on the one rolling the opposite way.The airport was quiet by now, but the few people who passed by paused and squinted at them a moment before hurrying on their way. A couple of the younger ones stopped long enough to take a picture or video, grinning as they turned away to carry on to their gate.They skipped some steps, trading tendus and degages for pas de cheval and piqués. Anything that didn’t work well on moving rubber tracks while they were wearing tennis shoes was thrown off; this was just for fun, after all, not a real class. They stretched with ankles resting on the railing, and developped on an angle to keep from blocking the one or two other passengers trying to get one way or the other.Jumps were skipped for safety reasons, as well as turns, but that didn’t stop them from going into lifts like they’d had a whole class to warm up. Shiro pressed her up over his head like they were standing on steady ground, and she couldn’t help a grin breaking over her lips that was half nerves and half delight. There was always something exhilarating about big lifts, about soaring through the air with the floor eight feet below. She could hear the announcement as a plane deboarded, and a new rush of passengers started trickling through the terminal. Oh no, she thought, holding in some cross between a giggle and groan as she held up her arabesque. They’d started this as a silly distraction while the terminal was occupied only by sleeping passengers, but now they were getting something like a crowd. People stopped, first just a couple, then a whole cluster along the railing.As Shiro stepped carefully from the track and settled her on her feet, there was a round of muted applause — not too loud, as if mindful of those still sleeping on the floor and across the bench seats. “Maybe we should call that enough,” she said.Before Shiro could answer, though, there was a burst of startled laughter and applause, more raucous than before, and looking over, she covered her mouth with her hand. Keith had unfolded into a handstand, body perfectly perpendicular as he trundled down the moving walkway. Shiro bleated out a strangled laugh as Keith shifted to full splits, still inverted, completely ignoring the couple who now rode behind him and stared blearily at his antics.“Shall we?” Shiro asked, grinning, and offering out his hand.“Will you be my Romeo?” she replied.It had been their last performance this season, and the pas de deux was still fresh in her mind and body. Shiro broke into a grin at the challenge and accepted immediately. Onstage, the process of getting into the lift was simple, graceful; on the walkway, it was a little more utilitarian. Shiro knelt, reaching up his arm, and Allura laid out on his shoulders in the same motion. He took a step onto the walkway as he rose, in time for her to extend her leg to the ceiling and let her arm drape down across his chest.“Holy shit,” someone gasped in their little audience, and Allura grinned. Shiro turned in a tight circle rather than the usual steps and swung her legs down so that she hovered as if en pointe in thin air, chest arched to the sky. Lifting her back up, he braced himself for the second developpe, higher this time so she nearly unfurled into the splits still draped over his shoulders. He stepped onto firm ground, settling her lightly on her feet, and the crowd broke into a round of true applause. Laughing, Allura dipped in a curtsy, extending the hoodie around her waist like a skirt.“Now that’s just cheating,” Keith laughed, coming up behind them. “How’m I supposed to top it?”“Well, you could always lift me,” Shiro replied, jostling Keith’s elbow with his.Catching the light in Keith’s eyes, Allura laughed.“You two figure that out, I’ll buy some time with our audience,” she said.Trading classical for modern, she stepped onto the walkway to toss her leg up into a full tilt, fingers placed delicately under her chin. She’d been hired for a music video over the summer, her first big commercial contract, and as she pivoted into an illusion, leg fanning in a great circle behind her, she heard a murmur of recognition.“Hey, wait,” someone started as popped a hip and flicked her long white braid over her shoulder, “she was in Leon!”She shot a wink in the general direction of the speaker and, as the walkway rolled to an end, dropped into an inverted cabriole before springing up and into a messy pirouette. Carpet and sneakers didn’t make for a good turning combination, but she got a whistle as she stepped out of it, laughing.On the other end of the walkway, Keith and Shiro were already starting, and she stole glances as she hurried down the length back to their starting point. It wasn’t that different from peeking from the wings during a crossover, only she was usually in a skirt and stage makeup for that rather than her worn-in leggings and airport-bathroom face wash.The prep into this one was deceptively simple: Keith crouched as Shiro tossed his weight onto his shoulder, flopping like a particularly bulky sack. There was a smattering of confused laughter, as if the audience thought they’d traded dance for a farce, and Allura grinned. She knew this step, remembered this piece. It was an older one — a pas de deux about the homoeroticism of trench warfare created by a guest artist on Keith and Shiro back when they were still students. The lift was, admittedly, a little more effective with the achingly intimate cello solo that normally accompanied it, but she could already feel anticipation tingling under her skin at what came next.From his limp drape over Keith’s shoulder, Shiro straightened up into a handstand, arms tight around Keith’s waist and feet pointed to the ceiling. The laughter shifted into quiet gasps. Keith’s hands hooked around the back of Shiro’s thighs, guiding them in a motion almost like an upside-down cartwheel. As his legs came around, though, Shiro didn’t neatly step off but froze, body perpendicular to the ground. Keith’s wiry arms shifted, lean muscle straining under his t-shirt. A few steps from the end of the walkway, Allura froze. That lift was supposed to swing around, Shiro rotating across Keith’s waist — but there were glass walls cutting their path off. Swinging him forward was bound to leave Shiro with a concussion and knock both of them on their asses on the walkway. Her hands tightened, involuntary, with worry.As she watched, Keith bent, shifting so that Shiro was nearly diagonal to the ground as his legs came around, slicing a breath above the rail. She gasped, startled despite herself by the fluidity as the two of them shifted, reoriented the choreography and brought Shiro neatly into an inversion before stepping off to a chorus of whooping and claps from their transient audience. Looking out over the little crowd, she could spot half a dozen cellphones lifted up, filming, and she held back a laugh. Coran was going to have a fit.A boarding call came over the PA as Keith and Shiro reached her, both breathing a little hard, and the crowd started to disband. Drawing her bottom lip in under her teeth, Allura rested her hands on her hips.“I think it’s time for our finale,” she declared.“That didn’t count?” Shiro breathed out, laughing.“Nah,” she said. “Hey, remember that character class we took with Nikola Kaminski?”Shiro’s eyebrows rose, but Keith’s lips turned up in a grin, and he started nodding before he even replied.“Oh hell yes.”She wouldn’t have been able to do it with Shiro, not with their height difference, but Keith was the same height as her if she didn’t wax down her hair. They took the walkway grinning, two steps apart and bouncing slightly in rhythm with each other. The dispersing crowd paused, lingering to see what was going on, and Shiro stalled with the first steps of Nutcracker’s Russian. Allura laughed, shoulders shaking, but gave Keith a firm nod as they approached the center of the walkway. He took one chasse, throwing himself up into her arms. She heaved, pushing off with her thighs, and flipped him up so one leg extended to the sky. Suspended there for a moment, he flicked one hand up to salute the audience before she swung him back down and they pranced off their impromptu stage. Despite the hour, their tiny crowd burst into cheers and applause. They’d accumulated more than she’d realized during the mini performance, and Allura laughed as they took bows from either end of the walkway. Drawn away at last either by boarding calls or by the sense of the performance ending, the crowd trickled away and Keith and Allura wandered down to where Shiro waited for them. Her heart raced under her t-shirt, cheeks flushed with adrenaline and endorphins. Keith’s cheeks were as pink as hers felt, and Shiro’s bangs stuck to his forehead. Reaching up, she combed them back, and he laughed.“Well, that is a new stage for me,” he remarked.“Your dumb idea was pretty great,” Keith said, looping an arm around Shiro’s waist. Shiro grinned, and Allura pressed a kiss to his cheek before tangling her fingers with Keith’s. “I honestly thought you two were going to get concussions doing that Huntsman lift,” she admitted as they turned back to their waiting bags. Keith shrugged his near shoulder, as if unbothered. “Keith had me,” Shiro said. “I wasn’t worried. Did you hear them during your Leon solo?” Laughing, Allura dropped into her seat, twisting around to drape her legs over Keith’s lap. Now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, she was finally almost sleepy. “I wondered if anyone would recognize it,” she admitted, leaning her head against her hand. “Too bad you didn’t have the costume,” Keith remarked, dropping his arm over her shins. Shiro snorted and Allura reached over to pinch his arm. The costume in question had been little more than a white bralette and shorts — and an entire bucket of red and black paint. Keith only grinned, unrepentant. “Next time I do a bikini dance, you guys are doing it shirtless,” she declared.

Glancing over to meet Shiro’s eye, Keith lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. “Deal,” he said. “I assume that’s our first summer layoff project,” Shiro agreed. Allura laughed, settling more fully into her seat. The metal arm rest pressed into her back persistently, but if she leaned in toward Keith and shifted most her weight into the pleather back, it wasn’t so bad. “Perfect,” she said, eyes slipping shut. “You two come up with some choreography and I’ll run final edits.” Already sleepiness curled around her, lulling her off. Distantly, she could hear a quiet chuckle and feel the gentle warmth of Keith giving her leg a light squeeze. The last thing she heard as she drifted off was Shiro: “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

#voltron #voltron ficlet #shallureith #dance au #shiro #allura #keith #voltron fic #my writing #ask games #this is such nonsense but was fun ty!!#machidielontheway #asked & answered

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palenoface · 5 years

Text

Connor Murphy Headcanons

he has two middle names : larry, after his father, and james, after his mom’s dad.

he has baby wipes and chewing gums in his nightstand for the days he’s too mentally exhausted to take a shower and brush his teeth.

he thinks he has high-functioning autism, but he has too little information and not enough fucks to give to look more deeply into this.

he ! needs ! stimulation ! he needs sound and vibrations and colors to ground him and make sure he isn’t dissociating.

on the other hand, too much stimulation makes him feel on edge and it’s always a lot of work to maintain the balance between numb and hyperaware - a work he rarely has the patience to do.

his original hair color is very close to zoe’s, but he’s a stubborn bastard who wants to make a point so he’s been dying them for the last five years.

it’s also incredibly fluffy when he has the time and energy to brush it.

he can do handstands.

he and zoe used to take gym classes together when they were younger, and while he’s too out of shape to do wheels or backflips, he can still do handstands without much effort.

he has selective memory : he can quote more than 500 vines from the top of his head, but has no idea when WWII started.

the little prince and alice in wonderland are his childhood favorite books. then he got his hands on terry pratchett and ooooh boy.

(he has a soft spot for death in discworld.)

zombies ! he like pop culture zombies. they’re trash and they’re gore and they’re his favorite creatures.

his music taste includes, but is not limited to :

barber shop quartets

pop-rock

ukulele covers of generic love songs

metal

beatbox and acapella stuff (he is totally blaming evan on that one)

choirs

whatever imagine dragons think they’re doing

don’t start him on disney songs

muffled recordings of zoe training for jazz band in her room

he never was much of a gamer but ? minecraft ? that was the good shit. he’s sure he still has his very first map somewhere in his crappy laptop.

speaking of his laptop, it’s covered in sharpie drawings and half-unsticked stickers.

his weed is stashed in a cardboard box under his bed with his previous years’ notebooks, and the layer of dust is his indicator to know if anyone found it or not.

he keeps all his notebooks since... as far as he can remember. sometimes he opens one of them and laughs at the sarcastic little notes he wrote in the margins.

his favorite of all times is from 4th grade. there’s an empty page between two full of doodles, and in the middle of it, written very very tiny : bitch.

he gets very tired very quickly. it’s like his internal battery just. goes flat. as soon as he gets invested in something. brain.exe stopped working.

he has a fidget cube and a finger twister in his hoodie’s pocket.

he actually has several fidget toys hiding all over the place, but these two are the ones he keeps on him at all times.

absurd humor is his jam. he’s particularly fan of reaction pics with the caption cropped out.

he makes typos when he’s under pressure.

DO NOT get him started on political subjects unless you’re willing to sit on your ass for hours and listen to him rant about everything wrong with the american system

given enough time and fuel (granola bars usually do the trick) it will always go back to capitalism and supremacy

he is paranoid. he knows that, his parents know that, zoe knows that, hell, evan of all people knows that. it doesn’t mean he’s anywhere near able to keep it in check, though.

it always takes him way too long to calm down and look at things in perspective, and by the time he does that he’s already hurt someone.

he has a thing for spiderman. it’s everywhere in his stuff if you know where to look.

evan challenged himself to find every single spidey merch in his room, but he’s still far from finding all of it (connor is definitely not telling him about the old pair of boxers at the bottom of his drawer).

when he’s confined somewhere - school, his room - he daydreams about getting in his car and drive until everything is calmer in his head.

in the same fashion, he’ll start running out of the blue and just... go. somewhere, anywhere as long as he can stop thinking so loudly.

he has one (1) plant in his room. it’s a little ceropegia woodii that evan gave him at some point, insisting on the fact that connor really had to want it dead for it to peg out.

connor makes a point of watering it once a week. it’s, oddly enough, one of the only things he can’t seem to forget easily. plus, he likes the little chain of heart-shaped leaves on his shelf.

his top three movies of all time are hidden figures, the imitation game and bohemian rhapsody.

sometimes at night when he can’t sleep because his thoughts are too loud and his room gets too stifling, he goes to sit in the hallway and listens to the house breathing in the dark. it calms him immediately.

when it’s not enough, he goes to sit on the porch and wait for the sun to rise behind the trees and doesn’t go back inside before he’s absolutely certain another day has come.

(and it makes everything okay, somehow, because the sun will always rise, and connor feels less desperate. less like he’s about to fall and never get up.)

(connor never falls. it’s sometimes very damn close, but he holds onto the seconds and every one of his breaths, and things are okay again before he realizes it.)

he and zoe still have a chaotic relationship that involves a lot of shouting and door-slamming, but he knows they’re doing better. it’s not perfect, and it probably never will be, but they’re working hard on their communication issues and it shows.

he’s weirdly territorial when it comes to his room : its is his space, and the doorway is the limit, and you have to ask to come in, dammit. it’s not that hard, larry.

evan always knocks. connor told him he could stop, because connor has nothing to hide from him (except a pair of boxers), but evan stubbornly keeps knocking every time he comes over. he’s says it’s good education, but connor knows it’s because evan, deep down, is a bastard who doesn’t like being wrong.

he has rituals - he doesn’t want to call it superstition, because he doesn’t really believe in this kind of thing, but he feels uncomfortable if he doesn’t execute them. his most recurrent ones are :

twisting his hair tie three times around his wrist before tying his hair so it doesn’t break

walking systematically inside the patterns on the ground

drumming a beat with his foot and his fingers to make time go faster

aligning anything lingering in front of him

notching every desk he sits at to see if they’re moved around

by extension, sitting specifically at his approved desks on bad days so he doesn’t get more irritated than he already is

he is weak to sleepy evan. don’t get him wrong, he likes every version of evan - sarcastic, pleased, blushing, soft, angry, self-deprecating, laughing - but sleepy evan is just... something else entirely.

the first night evan spends at the murphy’s they watch documentaries on his laptop until late, and they’re so captivated that it takes connor’s arm growing numb for him to notice evan asleep over his shoulder.

(connor doesn’t move for another half-hour, but he eventually has to pee and the sleepy, confused face evan gives him as he get up is just too much for his heart to handle.)

(and it will take him a long time to handle, he knows, but there’s no rush.)

(the sun will still rise tomorrow.)

#dear evan hansen #deh #connor murphy #depression boi #evan hansen #tree bros #treebros #Headcanon

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enchantingexile · 5 years

Text

Promise - k.l

Request: Nah

Note: Ive already done a truth or dare based imagine for Kian but this just popped into my head for some reason. (i saw a gif that said the dream date line)

Pairing: Kian Lawley x Reader

MASTERLIST

Although playing truth or dare was known as adolescent and immature there was something about it that everyone loved, that's what led to the situation you were currently in. You had been dared to do a handstand while being fed hot sauce, it was not the ideal position you would have chosen to do in front of your crush but if doing this impressed him you would probably do it.

“I can't stay up any longer, my arms are shaking” You laughed and fell forwards, your feet finally touching the ground, you sat down in your previous spot before the group went around again and did their truth or dares and then in an instant, it was your turn again.

“Truth or dare, y/n,” Kian asked.

“I’m gonna have to do truth, I can’t stomach any more hot sauce.” You reply with ease and a slight smirk, you had done so many dares already maybe it was time to give yourself a break.

“Okay y/n, what would your dream date be?”

“My dream date would probably be, just having one” You laugh and they all stare at you, the pitty is evident in their stare but then Kian lets out a chuckle.

“I’ll take you on a date” Kian winks at you and in an instant, the topic is changed and its someone else's turn. The blush is evident on your cheeks and you have to leave to hide it, saying you're just going to get a drink.

When you get inside you can feel someone's presence behind you, so you turn around to see who it is and to no surprise its the reason you're even in the house.

”So, what would your dream date be?” He questions you while he leans against the counter and you turn to get a drink from the fridge, not really sure as to who it belongs to.

”I don't know, I’ve never really thought about it before” You lied, you had thought about going on dates all the time, most of them with Kian.

He hums before responding, ”hmm, that doesn't sound like you're telling the truth”

”Well, what would your dream date be then Lawley?” You snark at him, hoping he didn't have a witty response prepared. But to your demise he did.

”My dream date is standing right in front of me.” You open your mouth to reply and then close it again shortly after with furrowed brows. He walks back to the group of friends sitting outside on the couches. You take off behind him, following his pace closely, you were determined to get to the bottom of this.

”You can't just say something like that and then leave me!” You yell after him, he stops abruptly and you run straight into the back of him. You fall straight onto your ass, as a thud is heard between the both of you. He turns around quickly and checks to see if you were hurt, on the surface nothing had been hurt but inside your pride was greatly wounded.

He reaches down to you, offering his hand to help you up and you gladly accept it. The touch of his hand on yours felt so soft yet so tender and you wanted to hold it forever. You are back on your feet and the blush on your cheeks darkens the longer you stand in his presence.

”Why did you say that? Don't play games with me Ki”

”I think we both know why” His grip on your hand grew the slightest bit tighter and his thumb started to rub along the side of your hand. The tension in the air was so thick you felt like you couldn't breathe properly, his stare was on your face as he pulled you closer to him. With one hand on your waste and the other coming up to caress your cheek, you grew the confidence you needed. You step out of his touch and far enough away so he can't reach you and begin to speak to him.

”I am more than happy to go on a date with you, all you have to do is ask.” You smirk at him, acting as innocently as you can. The batting of the eyelashes is what draws him back to you and into his embrace, both of his hands fall onto your hips as he begins to talk.

”Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?” The boy you had had a crush on forever just asked you out on a date and all you could do in response was smile. Get your head in the game.

”Uhm, yeah. I would like that.” A lot you thought. Your ever-present smile now on full display. Kian’s eyes were ever present on your face as he reached up to caress your cheek, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone as he leaned in closer.

You and Kian were mere centimetres away from each other, his breath fanning your face as he rests his forehead on yours.

”Can I kiss you?” His voice is soft and your breath is caught in your throat.

”Mhm” Your agreeance is all the signal he needs to connect your lips. But just as your lips touch you can hear someone coming into the kitchen and within seconds they are disrupting youse.

”What the hell is going on in here?” Jc chuckles, on instinct, you step away from Kian and even though you can see that he is hurt when you do, you stay where you landed.

”We were about to kiss, but you interrupted us.” Kian tsks and walks closer to you, slinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. The blush on your cheeks was ever present but Jc didn't care much about the situation in front of him.

”Mhm” Is all he replies with before getting something from the fridge and then leaving. You knew that what just happened was no big deal but your cheeks didn't as heat from them turned them an even darker shade of red, you were trying to hide your face against Kian’s chest but he wasn't having it.

The hands that had previously resided on your shoulders was now pushing you far enough back so that he could see your face.

”Why are you hiding?” He smiles at you, reaching up to brush over your burning cheeks.

”That's why I'm hiding.” You answer him with a smile as you reach up and take his hands from your face and interlocking his fingers with yours, a bold move on your behalf.

“You’re gonna be my crimson cutie soon, after your dream date with me we are gonna be a couple” He winks at you as you let go of his hands and bring your hands between youse displaying your pinky.

”Promise” he brings his hand up to the same height as yours and interlocks his pinky with yours.

”Promise”

Leave a comment if you want to... hope you enjoyed.

#kian lawley #kian lawley imagine #knj #jc caylen #kian and jc

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cal-king · 6 years

Text

Simon Says - (c.h)

Prompt: Who knew a game of Simon Says could get so out of hand...

Masterlist

It’s the first week of July. Most twenty year olds would be at the beach or out with friends. Y/N? She decided to devote her free time to getting covered in PVA glue and pink glitter at a kids summer camp. The arts and crafts table is packed with nine and ten year olds babbling excitedly about TV programs and toys and whatever else kids talk about. They’re currently making cards to send to their best friends and the table is alive with busy hands and even busier mouths.

She stands, brushing the paper clippings off her lap and wanders around the table, occasionally complementing someone’s card or stopping to control the amount of glitter used. Last summer Jimmy Barrett poured an entire container onto his head and Y/N had to explain to his mother at pick up time why he had green sparkly hair. Not a moment she’d want to relive.

“Hey Y/N,” Janet, the Head Counsellor calls from the doorway. “It’s raining outside so the kids will have to play inside over lunch. Would you mind supervising them in the sports hall? I promise I’ll let you get your lunch break afterwards.” She’s chewing on her pen lid.

“Sure thing Janet. That’s no problem.”

As they near the hall after lunch loud squeals and yells can be heard and Y/N quickens her pace. It’s the seven and eight year olds currently in the gym and despite the fact that they are notorious for creating a raucous, this level of noise seems excessive and Y/N shoves open the door, pony tail swinging and stomach dropping at the sight in-front of her.

The mass of twenty kids have surrounded their counsellor. One child is sitting on their shoulders and at least 5 others are climbing on their back and legs. A glimpse of short cropped hair causes Y/N to presume it’s a guy then another glance of arms decorated with tattoos confirms her guess. The poor guy is wobbling under the weight of all the children while the remaining kids are pulling at his yellow counsellor tshirt or sitting on his feet, grounding him to one place. One of them has nicked his phone from his pocket and has made a break for it.

She sticks her finger and thumb into her mouth and whistles hard.

Twenty pairs of big doe eyes turn to face her.

“Kids, get off your counsellor right now.” She shouts across the hall and the mass of children immediately release him and scurry away.

She steps back allowing her group to enter the hall before pacing over and putting her hands on her hips. “Alright kids.” She grins “Who wants to play dodgeball?”

Calum should have realised what he signed up for when he told his mum’s friend that he would help out at this year’s summer camp. He most certainly did not sign up for being used as a climbing frame on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. He spotted one rascal had slipped his phone out of his pocket and now he’s almost certain that his wallets gone too. Not only that, but there wasn’t much Calum could really do to stop them, he could hardly move from fear of one of the kids falling off of him and hurting themselves.

But from the corner of his eye he sees the door swing open and a whistle causes all the shouts and yells to cease. The kids clamber off of him and Calum sighs in relief. As a female voice directs the kids Calum takes the opportunity to fix his appearance and bending over to untie his laces which some it the kids have tied together. When he finished he looks up to see the counsellor that saved him but he stops in shock. Because... well because she’s beautiful.

Her hair is tied into a ponytail and the shorter hairs at he edges have escaped to frame her face. Calum watched in awe as Y/N reaches the end of the line she kneels down in front of two boys with mischievous grins plastered on their faces. She magically produces some candy from her back pocket of her shorts and their eyes widen. Immediately they place Calum’s phone and wallet into Y/N’s outstretched hand in return for a piece.

Calum only has but a moment to collect himself as Y/N makes her way over to where he stands.

“I hope you’re better at dodgeball than you are at looking after kids.” She grins, handing him the wallet and phone.

A loud laugh escapes Calum “Wow, that’s a low blow right there.” He says but the pink tinge to his cheeks tells Y/N more than enough. He’s embarrassed. And she finds that pretty cute.

“I’m Y/N.” She says, producing a hand for him to shake.

“Calum.” He replies, slipping his hand into hers. Even her hands are beautiful. Warm and soft decorated with rings and bright blue nail polish.

“Ready to get your ass whipped?” He grins.

She just laughs and raises an eyebrow. “Are you?” She asks, voice low before spinning on her heel and strutting away.

He stands there stunned while she organises the kids into two teams and produces a massive bag of miniature pink dodgeballs.

The game starts and while at the beginning Y/N’s main priority is being the to the side but Calum has now thrown three dodgeballs at her with tremendous speed that her competitive side is bursting to come out.

“You are really asking for it aren’t you, Hood?” She calls over to him and he stops for a moment, puzzled.

“How’d you...?” He trails off, confused at to how she knew his last name.

“It’s on the back of your shirt.” She reminds him and when a sheepish smile takes over his face she can’t help but laugh.

The game is drawing to a close and Calum is shooting Y/N a smirk as they stand facing each other, the only players left. But she simply laughs and fires the bright pink ball with all her might towards him and his eyes widen as he tries to dodge it.

But Y/N’s aim is very accurate and her shot hits home right in the middle of Calum’s chest. Stumbling backward he lands hard on his backside with a loud grunt, wiping the smirk off his face.

Y/N’s team erupts into cheers and Calum glances up just in time to see Y/N lift one of the kids and spin them around, a massive smile across her face. He watches fondly, still on the floor, as she gives her team a round of High-fives and fist bumps. Then slipping away from the mass of children she makes her way over to Calum, ponytail swinging slightly.

She stands in front of him, hands on hips and a suppressed laugh bubbling in her stomach. Then she outstretches her hand and helps Calum to his feet. They’re standing very close now. And Calum still hasn’t let go of her hand.

He’s gorgeous, she decides, standing there and gazing up at him. Warm brown eyes, thick eyebrows and smooth skin. She can’t remember the last time she’s seen a boy that made her heart beat a little faster and her stomach twist in that uncertain but exciting kind of way. And she likes it.

“I really wasn’t ready to get my ass whipped at dodgeball.” He admits sheepishly and Y/N laughs softly.

“I came to this camp when I was a kid so I’ve had lots of practice.” She smiles. But one of this kids has appeared and is tugging on Y/N’s sleeve, desperate to play another game.

They decide on Simon Says. Which suits Calum and Y/N quite well because they only stand and instruct the kids. And it’s fun for a while but soon the kids grow restless and are bursting to do something new.

Ava, one of the kids, sticks her hand in the air. “Y/N can we play a different game?”

“Sure. What one?”

Ava grins. “Well I was thinking... you and Calum play Simon Says and we tell you what to do.” Immediately the rest of the children agree adamantly, all nodding their heads. Y/N looks to Calum where he’s standing and he shrugs indifferently.

Y/N raises one finger. “On one condition” she says to the kids in front of her, “you have to sit with your legs crossed on the floor. And one person speaks at a time.” Immediately the children scramble into her requested position while Calum steps closer to Y/N.

“I might be able to beat you at this one, Y/N”

He leans into her ear and murmurs.

Y/N scoffs quietly. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that now Calum.” And the game begins.

It starts off simple, but Calum has his eye on winning and he’s willing to do whatever it takes even if that means poking and tickling Y/N to distract her then so be it.

And Y/N is growing frustrated. Muttering about sabotage and bad sportsmanship. Then Jamie with the red sneakers bursts out with “Simon says do a handstand.”

Y/N bends over into a graceful handstand while Calum stands still, wide eyed. Partially because he can’t do a handstand but also because he’s slightly distracted by the strip of skin that peeks out of Y/N’s t-shirt showing her soft stomach.

When she lands back on her feet Calum groans.

“What’s the problem, Hood?” Y/N grins.

“Nothing!” He replies brightly, “Nothing at all.”

Sighing he bends over and places his palms flat on the floor, then kicks his legs up behind him. But his attempt was useless as he crashes to the floor with a large groan.

Y/N steps closer to him and offers her hand, again, to help him to his feet.

“Why is it,” he sighs, “that i keep on embarrassing myself in front of you?”

Y/N just smiles. “I don’t think it’s embarrassing, I think it’s pretty cute.” As soon as she says this her laughs a little and looks away embarrassed, not able to handle Calum’s intense eye contact.

But when she glances back she finds that he’s also blushing.

“Best two out of three?” He asks and Y/N nods.

The second round ends with Calum winning as he lands a perfect backflip, Y/N decides it would be a good idea to not break her neck in front of all these kids and some cute brown haired boy.

But the third round? Y/N and Calum play like their lives depended on it. And Calum’s tactics from earlier have not disappeared as he continues to nudge and poke Y/N in hope of distracting her. And it works because she groans loudly before saying, “I swear to god Calum stop it right now,”

Calum chuckles, “or what?” He taunts. Y/N shoots him a look before giving him a quick push that causes him to lose his balance. His eyebrows raise. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

The game continues and Y/N and Calum resume pushing and shoving each other both getting more and more desperate as the game wears on. The demands from the children have sped up now. All of them calling out and the counsellors are almost out of breath as they work hard to complete each expectation.

Then, little Ava, with her cute pigtails stands up and shouts, “Kiss!”

Y/N and Calum stare at each other, mouths hanging open. Y/N can hear nothing but her heart pounding and the blood rushing in her ears. She blinks and Calum is stepping towards her, placing one hand on her cheek and crashing their lips together.

The children squeal and laugh but Y/N doesn’t care. All she cares about is the softness of Calum’s lips against hers and the feeling of his curls between her fingertips and the pressure of his hand on her waist. She’s on her tiptoes, desperate to be closer to him and almost whines when she has to pull away.

The sports hall is silent as the kids stare at them. Y/N bites her lip her hands still resting in Calum’s chest. She can feel his heart beating fast underneath his shirt.

“Calum?” She whispers, a faint smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“They didn’t say ‘Simon Says’...”

#calum imagines #calum blurbs #calum oneshot #calum writing #calum audio #5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos imagines #calum 5sos #calum!au

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flwrpotts · 6 years

Text

toni topaz. some things.

age 7.

hair that turns into shades of caramel in the summertime, knotted messily into pigtails. grape juice stains on every t-shirt. knees spotty with bruises. names all the stray cats in the neighborhood. kicks sweet pea in the shin when he decapitates her barbie. rolls her eyes when fang’s grandma drags her to sunday mass. colors outside the lines. builds fairy houses in the summer. would never admit to still believing in fairies. impossibly tangled hair. dirty white sneakers, covered in scribbled drawings. clothes that always hang a little loose. begs mom to make mac n cheese for dinner. tries to use a red marker as lipstick. laughs madly when sweet pea’s older brother swings her around the living room. pulls the threadbare pillow over her head when mom and her new boyfriend get into another fight. waits on a plastic chair in the rundown urgent care center by herself. looks at the x-ray of her mother’s broken jaw after, of the way that something can shatter and never quite heal.

age 9.

does handstands on the broken asphalt at recess. sticks hello kitty bandaids on the scrapes on her hands after. listens raptly when grandpa tells stories about snakes and honor and justice. wants to prove herself worthy, wants to be a serpent. it ain’t that easy, kid, says jimmy, and she scowls when he tugs on one of her curls. high top sneakers. frayed jean skirt. sweatshirts with holes in the sleeves, not the fashionable kind. skips school with sweet pea each year to make father’s day cards that will never be sent. hums fast car as she walks to school. never quite hits the growth spurt like the rest of the kids in the fourth grade class. eavesdrops when her mother cries and the school nurse says things like malnourishment and iron deficiency and not hitting benchmarks. can’t wait until she’s taller than sweet pea and fangs, so she can rest her elbow on the top of their heads and see how they like it. reads voraciously- beaten up fairytales and thrillers too mature for her age and biographies of people who did huge, daring things with their lives. vows to be one of those people.

age 11.

dislikes her mother’s string of seedy boyfriends, their yellowed wife beaters and jagged grins and stares that linger a little too long on her. wants her real father, wherever he is. reads away long afternoons at sunnyside, drowning out the sound of hushed arguments and barking dogs. does cartwheels across the school field until she can’t tell which way is up. glittery lip smackers. tops borrowed from the older girls in the neighborhood. blisters from too-small shoes. blows bubbles with her gum. bullies sweet pea into giving her piggyback rides home from school. punches freddy jellenick when he calls her mom a cheap, cracked out whore. smirks when he has to wear a cast on his nose for the rest of the month. eats caramel corn by the bag. watches horror movies on the small, crackling t.v. showers at fang’s when the hot water gets cut off. has her first kiss with sweet pea. accidentally bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, and then laughs herself silly. makes sure her grandfather does not know about her mother’s disappearing spells and bad relationships and the refrigerator going empty for weeks. steals boxes of off-brand froot loops from the convenience store and thinks this is honor. this is justice.

age 13.

swings her feet into sweet pea’s lap when they’re watching reruns of the price is right. gets detention for refusing to pretend she isn’t smarter than her teachers. reads audre lorde and feels like someone’s struck a match in her chest. knots her hair up into two buns. smudges eyeliner around her eyes. elbows fangs when he informs her she looks like a raccoon. has her second kiss with maya anderson. bites her lip on purpose, this time. smokes cigarettes down by the quarry, watching as the boys break bottles and inexpertly spray paint obscenities. wants more. doesn’t really know what. hears the doorknob turn in the middle of the night, the shitty wood floor creaking with a man’s steps. hops out the trailer window and onto sweet pea’s doorstep. does not cry when she tells him she needs a place to stay. does not cry when she feels his mother’s hospitality wearing thin. does not cry when she walks into the whyte wyrm with her nails pressed to her palm hard enough to leave crescents. does not cry when she unhooks the itchy, ill-fitting leopard print bra in front of a crowd of grown men. realizes that there is no honor in this. there is no justice.

age 15.

snake tattoo curled around her ribcage. leather jacket that feels like safety. hair dyed pink with fruit punch flavored kool-aid. visits her grandfather every sunday. aches when he talks about the way the serpents used to be, the way they’re supposed to be. crashes wherever there’s a spare bed, spare couch, spare spot on the floor. makes home wherever she can rest her head. meets fp2, strange and smart and alone and thinks- maybe you. meets betty cooper, blonde and lovely and thinks- never mind. goes to the science fiction double feature at the twilight. hangs at the wym after school with sweet pea and fangs, kicking their asses at pool and making dumb bets. reads every true crime book she can get her hands on, like knowing the worst of humanity is enough to protect her from it. sometimes drives around the northside late at night, watching all the perfect, shiny families through the yellow light in their windows. watches as her hometown succumbs to something dark. meets a girl with fairytale red hair and dark eyes who makes lonely feel like a lullaby, who has the same sort of anger thrumming through her, who scorches the earth when she talks but kisses so soft that it hurts, almost.

age 17.

layered flannels. fishnet stockings. designer skirts that cheryl will bitch about getting back. brings her favorite stray cat- a hideous, grouchy thing- to thistle house. names him pumpkin. snaps a polaroid as proof when when she catches cheryl cuddling with him. cries when she finds out she has a baby brother. still visits her grandfather. gets the serpent dance outlawed. goes to prom. drawls honey, i’m home as she walks into thistle house. means it more than she would like. borrows cheryl’s lipstick and grimaces at the color. borrows betty’s lipstick, and then borrows it again. still spends every friday night with sweet pea and fangs. loves them in a way she cannot quite articulate, their bad jokes and their shared childhood and their kidness that they were not taught. makes a true crime podcast with jughead. not entirely surprised when it goes viral. is surprised when she gets the full ride to brown. kisses cheryl in the airport like something from a movie, pockets full of promises and the sort of love she can rely on.

#we're BACK baby #I would die for toni topaz #pls let me know if there's anyone else you'd like to see!#mine #some things #toni topaz #cheryl blossom #choni #choni fic #riverdale #riverdale fic #southside serpents #riverdale serpents #cheryl x toni #sweet pea #sweet pea imagines #sweet pea headcanons #sweet pea fanfic #fangs fogarty

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squiddybeifong · 6 years

Note

could you do 74 with JayRae?

74. “Can I touch your boob?”

From this list of prompts:

–

Dick was a genius.

It was hard to admit, but Jason knew it was true. Sure, he’d been open to the idea of joining the Titans, but he’d also knew that he could start and lead his own group just like Dick had. He could probably do it easily, too.

But Dickie was smart. And with an interviewer like her, Jason was seriously reconsidering his idea of starting a brand new team.

Raven raised a brow as she sized him up, the movement hidden by her cloak. The original Robin murmured something in her ear and then left the room, off to do the Robin-things that had been preoccupying him for the past few months. Jason suspected he was finally going to don a different suit and a new name, but didn’t keep his mind on that particular train of thought long.

No, his mind was focused on pale gray skin and dark violet eyes, all concealed under an inky cloak. Because goddamn, Satan’s daughter shouldn’t be allowed to look so badass and so gorgeous all at once. She wasn’t hidden in the darkness, she was the dark; shadows seemed to radiate out of her, sucking up everything and tossing it back out in black.

She was cool, to put it lightly. Someone he’d love to spend all his time fighting crime with.

Unfortunately for him, Raven didn’t believe that boyish grin for one second. She knew that this Robin was cocky as all hell. Granted, he was trained by the Batman and Dick had even admitted that Jason was better than him at his age, but Raven wasn’t one for show-offs. No, his arrogance wasn’t her particular cup of tea. But his skill-set rivalled Dick’s and she could imagine him fitting in with the others quite well.

So, that led to them walking through the dim corridors, Raven nonchalantly looking over his abilities, neatly organized on her clipboard. Those very same abilities that had Jason questioning his rather lackluster introduction to Titans Tower so far. He’d met the other three and gotten a look at the garage, but not much else.

“Sooo,” Jason let the word hang for a moment, “What, no training test? No specialized robots? Tangible holograms? Not even a trap door?”

Raven raised a brow, a corner of her mouth quirking up. Jason decided he really liked this girl, especially with the way she deadpanned, “Did you expect to be attacked?”

“Eh,” He shrugged, “Dick hyped me up for this great ‘test of will,’ or whatever it was that he called it. Figured it’d be more than walking around.” Jason turned to grin at her, “Although walking around with you is way more satisfying.”

Raven hummed at that, a shadow of a smirk sliding on her lips, “Cheeky.”

Jason’s retort was cut off as all four of her eyes glowed red. The air shifted and the shadows changed; one of her shoulders tensed and he sprung to the right, just barely avoiding a blast of black magic that left a crumbling burnmark on the floor. The Titan smirked at him, her suddenly sharpened teeth and inky mass of tendrils escaping the bottom of her cloak forcing him to remember that she was a demon.

Opposite to what he knew from her file –that she was a defensive fighter, aerial support and projectile based fighting was preferred, although she was more than adequate in hand-to-hand– Jason was almost caught off guard when she charged at him, her boots thundering on the metal floors.

He dodged and landed a firm kick to her stomach.

She rolled with the hit and sunk into the shadows, leaping out from the opposite wall and sweeping his legs out from underneath him. Jason gripped her wrist as he went down, landing in a handstand and springing up a fraction of a second later. Raven matched him stride for stride, slipping an arm near his ribs and flipping him over–a move she’d almost certainly learned from Dick.

He got her in a wrestler’s hold and put a hand to her throat, ignoring that he left his ribs entirely exposed. The demoness took advantage, hitting him hard enough to push him to his feet. He threw a batarang that hit her shoulder and she stumbled as he charged.

Jason went to shove her but she fell into his arms. Instead of hitting her waist, he found his hand holding something soft.

The shadows on the wall and the air in the corridor all seemed to freeze at once. An unholy, snarling sigh escaped the goth and Jason knew that he should probably move before he died, but he stayed still as a statue. “Uhhh…” His mind blank, Jason decided to play dumb, “Can I touch your boob?”

Raven hastily yanked herself out of his grasp and pinched his ear, snorting at his yelp. “I’ll have you know,” She growled, “It’s proper to ask before.”

Unfazed by the nails in his ear, Jason prodded, “Does that mean I would’ve gotten a yes?”

Her voice was flat, “Arrogant.” Raven tilted her head to the side and released his ear, her lip curling a tinge, “Aside from that… ending, you fight well.” Jason blinked incredulously, watching as she re-adjusted the cloak around herself. A circle of black magic engulfed her hand and suddenly her clipboard was flying into her arms again.

As if they hadn’t been viciously fighting not thirty seconds before, the goth clicked her pen, mumbling out as she wrote, “Excellent at hand-to-hand, quick thinking on his feet. Impulsive to get the finishing shot, even at his own expense.”

Jason’s gape had lessened to a stare, his gaze shamelessly roaming over the slight opening in her cloak. “Didn’t know you were gonna be my training test.”

“You fight well,” Raven repeated, clicking her pen closed and turning towards the door, “I was just the best to test that.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, “If you’re ready, we can head to the evidence room and begin your official interview.” Her voice was a low rasp and she aimed a pointed glare at him. A tendril of pure darkness forced his chin up, drawing his gaze away from the curves that he now knew her cloak hid, “Don’t think I can’t override Dick on this decision. Behave or go back to Gotham.”

Jason blinked at her then smirked, nodding eagerly. The air around them was dangerous; she was completely ready to kick his ass and leave him battered and bloody on the ground. Just his type of woman.

Holding his arms out in an ‘after you’ motion, Jason followed her into the elevator. His lopsided smirk was met with a begrudgingly amused snort and her magic pushed the button. Raven rolled her jaw, “Behave, Jason.”

Dick was a goddamn genius.

#jayrae #jason todd #raven #robrae #my writing #robin!jason #anon #asked and answered #yesssss jay being a little shit is my fave

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birdboyofbabylon · 6 years

Text

Though night had fallen, the Jungle Zone was ripe with activity. The base of a gang known as the Treetop Thieves, a sprawling series of shelters suspended from the canopy of the jungle; all joined by an inhospitable labyrinth of walkways, was currently teeming with patrols inspecting every nook and cranny. Of course, they had every reason to be on alert. They’d recently made off with the prized mask of a high-ranking Eggman officer and they knew retribution wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

However, there were always careless mistakes to be had. One unfortunate koala patrolling the area would find out firsthand as he thoughtlessly stepped onto a loose vine that had been laid out near the edge of the walkway. In an instant, the rope had sprung, latching around his ankle and sending him screaming over the edge. Others would gather around, of course, a small crowd forming to see one of their own caught up in a constricting web of vines, dangling just below the platform.

And of course, watching from several platforms away in a low crouch, was the impish hawk that had sprung the trap, a grin widening across his beak as the scene unfolded before him. “Heh, that should keep those idiots busy for a while,” he scoffed, dusting his palms together as he righted himself and head for the center of the hideout.

It wasn’t long until the avian found himself in a surprisingly well-decorated main hall, lined with ornate pillars, wooden carvings, and many a tapestry as far as the eye could see. To think a building like this was simply hanging from a harness of interwoven vines was...a little unnerving, but not as much as the state of the hall itself.

...It was completely empty.

“I reaaally don’t like this,” the hawk mumbled to himself, his footsteps being the only thing to break the eerie silence. “They wouldn't be stupid enough to try and make some half-assed trap outta this, would they?”

He’d take another few steps, spying the secured lockbox at the far side of the room. “Nah, couldn’t be. They probably all got tied up just like their buddy,” the avian scoffed, followed by a chuckle. “Heh...tied up. That’s a pretty good one”

The lockbox only needed a bit of coaxing, a bobby pin more than enough to do the trick. It was but a little wiggle here and a waggle there until it snapped open and...there it was, Nephthys’ mask, it had to be. The thing had a sturdy feel in Jet’s hands, a fair deal of weight to it and the material, whatever it was, certainly had a quality to it that couldn’t have easily been faked. This was it, for sure.

“Well well well, I heard we had an intruder, but to think it would be the leader of the Babylon Rogues. How curious”

"You have got to be shitting me...,” the hawk grumbled as he pocketed the mask and turned around. Sure enough, a small army worth of thieves had just rushed into the building, nearly a dozen strong of all kinds of jungle wildlife. The one that seemed to be leading the group was a lemur sporting a few facial scars and a sinister grin.

“So tell me,” the rival thief continued, his brow lifting in suspicion, arms folded behind his own back “Why would you come on behalf of the Eggman? You have no allegiance with him, or so I’ve been told”

“Who said I was doing this on that fat bastard’s behalf?,” the hawk snipped back, pointing towards an imaginary watch on his wrist, “Now are we done playing twenty questions? I’m on a schedule so I’d like to cut to the part where I plant my foot up all of your collective asses”

“Oh...,” the lemur scoffed, “Quite a lot of confidence for someone outnumbered eleven to one. I’d expected the leader of that dying clan of birdbrains to be a fool, but this is something else. A shame that the legend of the Wind Masters dies here, as I-”

It was at about this point when Jet grew tired of listening to this monologue, his leg lashing out to hook in a nearby chair, quickly drawing it in and exchanging it to his other leg. Going with the momentum, he’d swing back into a breakdance-like move, now balanced on a hand while he spun himself and kicked the chair sharply for the opposing leader’s head, breaking it over his skull and causing him to collapse in a heap.

“Yeow, he takes chairs to the face like a bitch. Ya think that’s how he got those scars?,” the hawk cackled, the sarcasm practically dripping from his words as every eye in the room now leered dead at him. “Huh? Oh, sorry ‘bout that, he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up! I thought he was gonna go on forever and ever, too! Does that guy always jerk off to the sound of his own voice or is this just a special thing?”

Without a word, the others clenched their fists and took a fighting stance, with Jet doing the same. The only difference, of course, was that Jet was grinning ear to ear in absolute elation as he shouted. “Alright! Now it’s party time! Just try and keep this exciting, alright?”

[Cue the music!]

Right out of the gate, an absolutely furious gorilla lunged ahead of the group, swinging wildly at Jet, only for the Rogue to nonchalantly backstep every swing, his arms tauntingly held out to the sides. “Hah! Nope! Too slow! Try again!” With one last heavy-handed lunge from his foe, the hawk would weave to the side, letting the brute drive his fist straight into the wall, the limb now caught in the hole.

Lunging in to take advantage, the avian leapt a knee square into his foe’s gut, another kick snapping him square in the jaw to send them flying. Before the gorilla even hit the ground, however, Jet would twist in mid-flight, taking hold of his foe’s neck and sending them flying into the bulk of his attackers, bowling many of them over on the spot.

Two thugs rushed in while their allies were stumbling back to their feet, swarming Jet from each side. The avian turned to one, interrupting his swing with a sharp punch to the gut, then would quickly step back, interrupting the attack of the second one by driving his elbow straight into the incoming fist, his foe’s hand cracking and buckling on impact.

While both were reeling in pain, the Babylonian snatched the arm on the foe behind him, tossing the underling over his shoulder and into the other attacker, flooring them both. A third would come charging in headstrong, only to get stopped cold with a boot to the face, the hawk keeping his sole planted to his attacker’s face all the way down as he followed with a stomp to the skull that splintered the wood floorboards beneath them, the thug writhing and arching his back as Jet twisted his heel atop their head...all for good measure.

Next up was a panda, rushing the bird with a quarterstaff made of bamboo, swinging it about wildly. Jet managed to duck under the first swing, leaping over the second, then sidestepping an overhead follow-up, dropping a foot on his foe’s weapon as it clacked against the ground. With a sharp push of his heel, he’d push the staff back, driving it into the rival thief’s gut, taking hold of the staff to drive the tip into his foe’s throat.

With one last swing over the head, the panda was down, and what seemed to be his brother was now rushing in. Wasting no time, the Rogue drove the tip of his newly acquired staff into the ground, letting it ricochet up and peg the incoming foe square in the jaw. Before the lackey could even recover, he was swatted again and again from every angle, simply collapsing in a heap once the bird’s quarterstaff barrage had ended.

Another brute of an ape would take a swing next, leaving Jet to try and block with his staff, only to have it snap in two. The cloth wrapping around the weapon, however, would unravel in the middle, serving essentially as a tether between the two halves of the broken weapon, and catching the primate’s fist in the tangle. Almost instantly, the Babylonian capitalized, sharply pulling his foe towards him as he leapt straight overhead, letting his foe run headlong into a punch from one of his own teammates. The ape was swung for a half-turn, only to get pegged again by a blow from the hawk and slump over into a heap.

The monkey hadn’t even fully hit the ground before Jet was using him as a springboard, launching off his downed foe and lunging himself feet-first at his ally as he was still reeling from the shock of this friendly-fire incident, launching him toppling end over end.

As the hawk was getting back to his feet, another lemur would rush him, putting the bird into a headlock. For a second, it seemed like Jet was left flailing aimlessly, but after he kicked up at the empty air, the Rogue would redirect his momentum to slip right through his foe’s legs, reversing the hold and sharply suplexing them into the ground. Before he’d even come to a stop, the bird twisted back into a handstand, finally dropping knee-first square onto his foe’s chest, the unfortunate enemy’s eye’s bulging out as he coughed up specs of red, before eventually going lax.

This left only one target left, a very, very unlucky sloth that was now scared out of its wits, eyes darting from side to side. All he could see was his downed allies, crumpled up, bruised, and bloody on the floor. The mobian would hold out its hands, slowly backing up as Jet menacingly stepped closer and closer, a devilish grin on his face as he cracked his knuckles.

From outside, all the others would see is that very sloth being launched straight through the main hall’s doors, flinging them open with a deafening crash. Dozens of heads turned to scope out the disturbance, just in time to see that nefarious green hawk give a salute and fling himself off the treetop platform. Those that looked down only saw a flash of light, the thrusters on his Type-J flaring to life several dozen feet below...and then he was out of sight.

#JetIC #SoloRP #Long Post #//blood #//injury #//violence #((Have I ever mentioned I get carried away with fight scenes?))#((In my defense I've been playing Yakuza 6 for most of the weekend))

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