#he’s just pathetic and incompetent and annoying

[musclesandhammering]

Yea pathetic wet puppy cas from later seasons is fine I guess, but grumpy surly I’m-Milky-Way-years-old-and-tired castiel from seasons 4-6 will always be superior.

“What the hell?”

“Guess again.”

“If you needed our help, why didn’t you just ask?”

“Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite.”

I’ll say it again, season 4 Cas is UNMATCHED

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

cang qiong dragon god shen yuan is probably like so old that time doesn’t have meaning? like he transmigrated into pidw as a dragon and and the system gave him a few missions that functionally amounted to ‘claim this mountain range as your territory and defend it from demons’

sy didn’t realize that he was actually laying the foundation for cang qiong mountain sect before its creation. some terrifying demon demigod (one of the first heavenly demons, maybe?) pursues a band of cultivators to his mountain range, and he protects them. they settle his mountains and start cultivating, and because they’re protected by a literal god (who they call lord canglong, and they name the mountains after him) people want to study there.

so cqms is born, and sy takes a nap. when he wakes up, those cultivators he saved bring another group of cultivators, all named 'wen' to his mountain, and they ask his permission to lead the peaks next. another nap, and he wakes up to the wen generation asking his blessing for the ming generation, so on and so forth up until the qing generation. this time he recognizes names: qingge, qingfang, qingqi. this generation's leader, qingyuan. and the one whose bow is shallow and perfunctory, qingqiu. ofc sy isn't super pressed about standing on ceremony or whatever—he's only experienced like six years in this world, and most of them were spent either establishing the mountain as his territory or helping his little cultivators fight off some world-ending cataclysm or other. but he remembers the scum villain’s name, and he’s not a huge fan of the way sqq’s already proving himself to be an arrogant old shit

just like every other time, after he’s met and blessed this generation of peak lords, shen yuan falls asleep. shit!!! he meant to stay awake this time, but the system putting him to sleep is just too powerful! he’s probably missed luo binghe, damnit!!! what’s the point of transmigrating into this shitty novel if he doesn’t even get to meet the only character worth the pixels it took to type him into existence??

but as soon as he sees that fluffy-haired boy curled up in one of his caves, bruised and weeping and wondering what he’s done to be so universally hated, shen yuan knows. that’s his protagonist, and he’s really too pathetic like this. he’s really just a child. and shen yuan might have been easily annoyed by the concept of kids in his first life, but this isn’t just some whiny kid. this is the protagonist. so he does his best to calm tiny lord luo down.

and at first when lbh realizes it’s the fucking dragon god canglong speaking to him, the poor kid falls on his face kowtowing and apologizing for the intrusion, but lord canglong just…asks him what’s wrong. and then listens. and then he allows binghe to…to touch his hand???? not only that, he pats binghe’s head?? and tells him it isn’t his fault??? that one little head-pat is filled with so much spiritual power that binghe almost passes out, and soon after he recovers, lord canglong sends him back down the mountain with a renewed sense of purpose. lord canglong said binghe wasn’t stupid, wasn’t incompetent, wasn’t a failure, and binghe was determined to prove himself worthy of the sect’s guardian deity’s kindness.

and when luo binghe turns to walk down the mountain back to qing jing peak, that google translate voice pipes up in shen yuan’s ear with an update he hadn’t realized he was waiting for.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! USER_002 has completed the quest {From the Ground Up}! B-points +500 USER_002 has initiated the quest {Master of Masters}! New skill [Shapeshifter] has been unlocked! Would USER_002 like to activate [Shapeshifter] now?]

shen yuan slammed the bright glowing [YES] faster than any quest the system had ever given him. that’s how he learned that he was, in fact, just naked in front of luo binghe, and the [Shapeshifter] skill didn’t come with an auto-clothed setting. thank fuck he’d already sent the protagonist away!

[wriokitty]

GOJO SATORU : ADVANTAGE

female reader ; mentions of alcohol and hooking up ; friends to lovers ; getting together (sort of) ; your typical clingy, annoying, and slightly shameless satoru

There is a boy in your bed.

That’s the first thing you notice when you wake up. The second thing is that his arms are curled around your waist. The third is that you’re both rather bare…which is the most mortifying part of it all. You have no recollection of what happened the night before to land you in such a scandalizing predicament—just that one drink turned into one too many.

So, with pretty limited options, you lay painfully still, trying to figure out what you should do. Should you leave? (No, this is your own home, after all). Should you wake him up? (That might make things a bit awkward, though). Should you pretend to sleep until he finally wakes up and leaves himself? (But that might take too long and your anxiety might kill you first). You weigh your options, still careful enough to stay still—at least, you try.

He suddenly pulls you closer, and you flinch against your will.

“Oh, you’re up!” He chirps instantly.

Everything stops as soon as you hear the voice. The world stops spinning. It might have even shifted from its tilted axis. Your blood runs cold. Your heart stops beating. You think maybe even for a moment, your soul may have left your body.

Satoru.

“Satoru?” You turn around quickly—and then, just as quickly, you give a small, panicked gasp and pull the blanket to cover your chest.

He eyes you in amusement as he causally says, “I already saw everything, so you don’t really need to bother with all that.”

How shameless. Which, of course, is pretty on brand for him. But still, how shameless.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss, glaring at him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You invited me here,” he grins. It’s too wide for your liking. You’d mistake it for smugness if you didn’t know him a tad bit better—no, it’s purely gleeful.

“I did not,” you sputter.

“Oh, but you did,” he all but purrs. And then, much to your horror, he takes on a mockingly high-pitched voice and replicates what you assume is your drunk, alcohol-induced invitation from the night before. “Where are you going, silly? Come inside. Oh Satoru ~ you feel so good. More, Satoru—please! Satoru, you—”

“I do not sound like that,” you screech, glaring at him as one hand still protectively holding the blanket over your chest while the other moves to give him a harsh shove.

He chuckles, flopping back against your mattress as he holds his arm out for you. “No point in bickering over the specifics now. Come here.”

“For what?”

“Weaponized incompetence only gets you so far,” he clicks his teeth, “come, come. We’re going to cuddle before—”

You cut him off firmly. “We are not cuddling. You are going to get dressed while I close my eyes and then you’re going to walk yourself out the door and go home.”

He pouts, giving you a dramatically pathetic look as he murmur, “after I showed you such a good time? Don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

You don’t even remember the time that he supposedly showed you—although, it’s pretty evident that it happened. Very evident, in fact. The clothes on the floor. The slight soreness of your body. The faint bite marks on his collarbone (did you really do that?) and the beginnings of scratches starting at his shoulders.

It’s all….so obvious. So painfully clear that somehow, after a series of events, you’ve fallen prey to the charms of a boy you happen to know pretty well. Unfortunately for you, you also happened to get to know him a little better than you would have liked—and you don’t even have any memory of it.

You glare at him for a moment before muttering, “you should not take advantage of a drunk girl.”

His mouth opens for a second—and it just stays like that. Speechless. It might be the first time you’ve seen him that way, too. (It’s a shame you don’t get to appreciate it more given the circumstances—not a lot of people can say they’ve witnessed Satoru of all people have nothing to say).

“Maybe you took advantage of a drunk guy,” he retorts, huffing, “you know how I get after a drink or two. How do you know you didn’t prey on me?”

“You’re in my bed!”

“Only because you insisted your place was closer!”

You sigh exasperatedly, lying back against your pillow as you rub your temple. He shuffles closer, inching little by little in a comically unsubtle manner until he’s pressed against your side. He’s warm. His skin is soft and something about it feels good enough that you don’t immediately flinch away.

“This is weird,” you whisper. Still, you don’t move. You can’t. It’s hard to pretend like it’s not sort of nice getting to feel Satoru like this—so close and near and yours.

(Is he yours? Maybe not. But getting to pretend for just a moment doesn’t feel all that wrong).

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs, quietly into the room as he looks around, a foreignly soft look in his eyes.

Just to be annoying, you feign being confused and ask, “what, my interior design?”

“Us,” he purses his lips, glancing at you, unimpressed. “It’s not so bad when it’s just us.”

“I think the alcohol made your brain permanently damaged,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes, scoffing lightly as you try not to smile. Gently, in a way that’s careful and delicate that Satoru usually is not, he snakes an arm around you and pulls you close. And just as carefully, before you can scold him with an undignified scowl, he pulls the blanket up to make sure you stay covered.

You stare at him cautiously, and he leans closer.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sober right now. And hungover, so I don’t appreciate you adding to my headache.”

“Rude,” you gasp, shoving at his chest again. He grins, one arm still wrapped tightly around you as he keeps you nice and flush against him.

“What say you to a nice brunch without any alcohol—just you, me, and maybe some coffee.”

Your heart skips a beat. You force yourself to pretend like you hardly care as you shrug and say, “I’d say you’re just trying to ease your guilt for taking advantage of me.”

“Actually,” he says pointedly, “you have to say yes to ease your guilt of taking advantage of me.”

“I say it’s all about perspective,” you crack a grin.

“Well, to put it into perspective for you, we’re getting brunch,” he says firmly, burying his nose into your shoulder.

You ask cheekily, “it’s on you, right?”

“Oh, sure. I guess you’re already perfectly fine with taking advantage of me a second time, huh?”

One night stand with ur friend satoru but the sexual tension has always been so thick it’s easy to cut with a plastic knife

[contamination-zone]

Hiding Spot

[UTMV FIC] Contains: platonic Fresh & Nightmare, cuddling, possessive Nightmare, [~1,500 words]

He rose with an annoyed groan. Pests, in his castle… one of those incompetent fools would be punished for this. Perhaps he could skewer the creature and leave it before their door. He pulled back his chair with one quick movement, tentacle raised and ready to strike, only to find a different type of pest hiding there. Shoved into the corner, much too big for the small space, Fresh.

Fic under cut! or on AO3

Creaking in the dark was what woke him. Scrabbling, like a rat.

He rose with an annoyed groan. Pests, in his castle… one of those incompetent fools would be punished for this. Perhaps he could skewer the creature and leave it before their door. 

Foot steps silent as he made his way to his desk, the one he kept in his room when he didn’t want to work in his office. Smaller, but still much too nice to have some rodent trying to make a home in it. His mouth curled at the thought.

He pulled back his chair with one quick movement, tentacle raised and ready to strike, only to find a different type of pest hiding there.

Shoved into the corner, much too big for the small space, Fresh.

He blinked his eyes. Bringing a hand to his face, he tried to wipe the last dregs of sleep from them. That was… he was seeing it right.

“What are you doing here…?”

It didn’t move, uncharacteristically quiet. Worryingly so, if he was any other monster.

“Answer me.” He growled. A tentacle moved closer, snaking around its ankle, ready to pull it out from its hiding place.

That seemed to finally shock it out of its stupor, [one he was beginning to think was sleep] and make it flinch. Harshly.

Fresh’s glasses, which had been blank until that point, flashed a few symbols he couldn’t quite catch before settling on “wassup.”

“Nightmare! How’s it hanging?” It’s voice was squeaky and loud, compensating for the tiredness that seemed to dwell under the surface. It shifted a bit under the desk, seemingly trying to catch its bearings. “Fancy seeing you here…”

He gave it a flat look. “Yes.”

It laughed nervously. It must have felt his restraint. Seeming to have at least a little logic in its empty skull, it didn’t pull him off.

The parasite didn’t offer anymore explanation, just engaging in a staring contest with him. He gave its ankle a warning tug, pulling it half-way out from its “hiding spot.” He would not be humoring its games.

A squeaky noise and almost desperate scrambling was his reward, the creature seeming almost desperate to stay in ifs hiding place. In pity alone he let his grip go slack again. The warning was clear, however.

“Think you could let me in your crib for a tad, bro? Just ah… just until morning.”

Searching it up and down for the cause of such a strange request, he took a closer look at its appearance. Its pristine coat was rumpled, little tears littered its pants and shirt. Mud crusted its heelys but he could only feel a half-hearted disgust at that.

A new snarl creeped across his face. Nothing could hunt his prey but him. This was… unacceptable. Z 

He tightened his grip once more and dragged it fully out from the desk and into his space. Ignoring its yelp and struggles, he categorized the rest of the damage.

“Wait hold on a sec my brotato-“

Running his hand along its arm he noted the way it tensed and whined. His tentacles did the same, feeling along it and seeing which spots got pained reactions.

“Personal space! Mind the merchandise!!”

It seemed only a few light bruises marred it, but still too much for his comfort. 

He kicked out its legs and left it kneeling with a single motion. Eye level, he growled, “who did this?”

It squirmed trying to get comfortable on its knees. Motions sluggish, it seemed it hadn’t left sleep behind fully.

“Watcha taking about bro?”

He squeezed one of its bruises.

“Ow ow ow- no- okay okay!!” It squeaked, giving in. It shifted guiltily, though Nightmare suspected it was just trying to look pathetic for him. “Was looking for something to eat in that dungeon of yours. That unradical guard you have didn’t seem into the idea of cannibalism though.”

Horror did this…? He should have assumed. None of his gang had been formally introduced to Fresh, even if they had seen him around with Nightmare. The idiot he’d given guard duty had a short fuse, and Nightmare knew the closest monster they had in the dungeon was a papyrus. If that’s the one Fresh decided to make a meal out of… he could see how this situation happened.

Even as he figured out the how and why, the annoyance didn’t subside. He would not tolerate his subordinates touching his pet. 

It shifted again, and he was once more reminded of its presence out of the hypothetical. He didn’t think it would tolerate him keeping it on the floor much longer, even if it did go to him for protection. [Internally, he was trying not to preen at that fact. Of course his pet would come to him for safety.]

“You got your answer. Be a pal and let me up?” If it wasn’t wearing its glasses he’s sure it would be batting its imaginary eyelashes at him. 

He considered its plea. Letting it go would probably be beneficial to its opinion of him, but… “and why did you hesitate to tell me?”

It stilled, glasses turning into question marks. “Don’t you complain about your lil’ posse always being up to this typa’ thing?” And he usually didn’t do anything about it, was left unsaid.

He tightened his grip, ignoring its wince. “You’re not part of my gang.”

“Yeah?” Confusion was wafting in the air, slowly replacing the fear. Not very appealing…

“That means,” he spelled out very slowly, “that different rules apply to you.” 

“Aw, am I your favourite?” It puffed up, though he could see through its facade. Anxiety was slowly seeping from it, freaked out from not knowing his expectations. 

He sighed. “No. You are just more useful to me unharmed.” That wasn’t wholly true, the negativity was more potent when it was hurt. However… if it was harmed it was more likely to run away, and that would render all this a moot point.

It seemed to relax at that, any established motives always putting it at ease. It was cute how easy to please it was. Maybe it was too ready to fall asleep in his grasp though.

It did go to his room to sleep under his desk… it probably didn’t get much rest yet. He wouldn’t be letting it get itself killed from lack of sleep, and he certainly wouldn’t be letting it sleep on his floor like an animal. Mind made up, he dragged it to its feet. 

“Nightmare?” It squeaked as he dragged it to his bed.

“You said you wanted to spend the night. I refuse to have you on the floor, so you’ll be joining me.”

Fresh flailed around a bit before seeming to give up on resisting, resigned to its fate. He knew it was a clever little thing.

He settled comfortably where he’d been before this mess, dragging Fresh along.

It was tense as it tries to find a comfortable position, eventually curling into a tight ball at his side. His dear Fresh was always unsure in bed, more used to sleeping in tight little hide-always than the open spaces a bed provided. 

The anxiety was sweet, and he brought the tense bundle of bones closer; tentacles draped around it, leaving it in a tight dark space. Relaxation slowly seeped into it, like a bird with a blanket over its cage.

It’s claws scrabbled a little at his chest, the motion almost digging. It would probably be more affective if it was actually in a hole in the ground and not in his arms.

“Settle down, pet,” He murmured against its neck, wondering if it knew how easily he could snap it.

It hummed, sleepy, shivering at his cold breath. The motion was undeniably cute….

He nuzzled against its vertebrae, eliciting a whine. “Lemmie’ sleep man…”

“Thought you were always to to having fun,” he teased.

“Tomorrow… tired, hungry.”

“Fine fine. Tomorrow.” He settled his face on the crook of its neck, pulling it as close to himself as he could.

It squirmed a bit, before settling back down again. The bruises must have been bothering it.

Tomorrow, he’d give it a new body without bruises. Tomorrow, he would deal with the fool who’d done that to it. Today though… he was going to enjoy this, having it in his arms and too tired to leave.

[sugar--brown]

A bit of fluff

Because we need more fluff to balance all the angst people are creating with the cat!Martin AU by @ultramarinaa

I'm preparing a proper big fic, but meanwhile I made this.

What were the chances to read a book made of only two pages and turning into a cat because of it only a few months after your promotion?

Not much. Martin was sure of that. As sure as the fact, he was in deeeep troubles. What would his boss say?! Turning into a cat should be pretty high on the scale of being unprofessional. Especially after introducing himself as the incompetent fool who let dogs run free in the archives! Jon will be so disappointed and annoyed! He was toasted!

Maybe... Maybe he could fix this? Maybe if he could read the book backward…?

Martin took a tentative step forward and immediately face-planted on the floor. Right. Four legs instead of two. That was great.

He meowed - gosh! he meowed! - pathetically before standing up, ready to make another attempt. But this time, everything was blurry.

… why was everything blurry?

Oh. His glasses. Right. Face-planting on the floor meant losing your glasses. Strange thing that his clothes disappeared with his body, while his glasses stayed the same…

Ah. Great. He couldn't put them back on. Because he was a cat. Without hands. Just very big and soft paws.

He really needed to fix this before anyone sees him!

Staggering a little, Martin began to walk cautiously toward the evil book. He was scared - heck! even terrified - of it. But what could it do more? Turning him into another type of cat?

With apprehension, Martin used his front right par to hit the book quickly. Nothing happened. Ready to bolt backward, he very slowly peaked at the fourth cover.

A wonderful fairytale where only the purrest love can help the hero to save the damsel.

Ah. Ah. Ah. Very funny.

Annoyed, Martin hit the book so hard that it flew away, landing between cardboard boxes full of statements. Great! He was already sick of it!

Two hands grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Hello!” cooed the stranger who just grabbed him without any warning.

Martin meowed and hissed in panic, squirming with all his might. But the stranger hugged him against their chest and started scratching him behind the ears. Oooooooh that was good…

“There, there, it's okay now. You are safe. I don't know how you got here, but I promise I won't hurt you.”

Wait. That voice… was it…?!

“I'm Jonathan, what's your name?”

Martin's eyes grew wide in shock. That was Jon! His boss! His prickly, cold-hearted, boss! And he was cooing at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Oh gosh… he was in deep troubles.

“Hey bossman! Did you find Martin? He was supposed to-... is that a cat?”

Tim appeared around the corner, clearly amused by the scene. Jon immediately stopped cooing and scratching Martin's ears, becoming all tenser and professional.

“Ah. Yes, it is… it is a cat. I caught it before it can do any damages.”

Hey! Martin wouldn’t have done any damages! He knew he wasn't the most graceful person, but he wasn't that clumsy. …right?

“What are you all doing back there? Oh! That's a very cute cat, Jon.”

And here was Sasha. Each second was more humiliating than the last. Martin really wanted to run and hide somewhere dark, tiny and safe right now.

“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Sasha, getting closer to inspect Martin.

“No, I just heard him. He doesn't have any tattoos or tag on him.” answered Jon, putting unconsciously a possessive hand on Martin's back. “I have not the faintest idea how he arrived here.”

“Ha! You know cats, boss, they are real champions when they want something!” laughed Tim.

“Champion… that's a good name.”

“Wow! You are already naming him? You move fast!” teased Tim with a smirk.

“We can't keep him, he may have an owner already.” added Sasha, more pragmatic.

“W-well… We can't call him ‘the cat’, that would be properly ridiculous.”

If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought Jon was embarrassed. But he couldn't, he was never embarrassed. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted like this with the dog so…

While he was lost in his thoughts about his ridiculously cute boss, the group had moved on back to the break room.

Wait. What about the book?! And his glasses?!

Martin was almost able to escape, but Jon's soft hands captured him over his shoulder at the last second. But that didn't stop him to agitated his fluffy paws with a few panicked meows.

“What's wrong, Champion?” asked Jon, looking back with surprise. “Oh, good spot! There are glasses on the floor.”

Martin had half a hope to see Jon putting his glasses on his nose so he could see, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he inspected them before putting them in his pocket with a disgusted face.

“Aren't they Martin's?” asked Tim with curiosity.

“Yes.” groaned Jon. “He must have lost them while clumsily searching for a statement. I still don't understand why he had been assigned here. He clearly didn't have the competences to-... hey!”

Martin had escaped Jon's grasp with a hiss. He knew he wasn't good at his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it!

Before Jon could grab him again, Martin flew under a shelf, deep enough so he couldn't be grabbed. He heard the others shout in surprise and agitation, but he was too agitated to pay attention.

He vaguely heard Tim saying to “cut him some slack” and Sasha guessing that “champion surely needs space”. And Martin decided to do just that. He would stay here until everyone was gone, and then he would find the book to turn himself back.

Hours went by. And Martin must have snooze at some point because when he focused again, everything was calm and quiet. Tentatively, he came out.

Nothing to worry about. The lights were off and Tim and Sasha weren't here any more. So, he walked as silently as possible to where he had launched the book.

Until he heard a groan.

Martin froze. And slowly, oh so slowly, turned his head. 

Jon was still here. In fact, Jon was so focused on his work he hadn’t noticed Martin. So he could have continued, but… something was off. Jon didn't look… healthy. Or at least less than usual.

He seemed barely able to not passed out. He was pale, sweaty and his eyes were unfocused.

… when was the last time had Jon eaten? They didn't see him going out of his office at lunch…

With a sigh, Martin shook his head and walked to the break room's fridge. To be fair, he was a bit hungry himself. And he knew his fish salade was in here. He always brought double portions in case someone forgot their lunch.

It took a lot of time and effort, but Martin was able to open the fridge and to drag the dish to Jon's office.

“Champion? You're out? What are you… oh.”

Jon stood up quickly, too quickly because he needed a few second to make the world stopped spinning. Then, he knelt in front of Martin.

“Where did you… oh, you must be hungry. Right. Sorry… I'm a bit rusty at taking care of a cat. You are really smart, you know? Stealing Martin's food… I'm sure he wouldn’t mind, since he left work early to go find a replacement for his glasses.”

Martin huffed in annoyance. Why did Jon was so… harsh? Sure, he was a fool but still…

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Let me open this.”

That what he did, but he didn't eat. Maybe he needed some encouragements? Martin his best imitation of pleading kitty eyes while hitting softly the salad.

“You… want to share?”

Jon visibly melted, almost like he was ready to cry. But instead, he just sat on the floor and began eating the veggies while giving the sardines to Martin.

They shared in silence. But it was the best interaction Martin had Jon since… since ever! So he wouldn’t complain.

When they finished, Jon suddenly bent down and gently hugged Martin, bumping his head with his.

“Thank you…” he whispered in a broken voice.

And the genuine, honest, sweet, smile of Jon made Martin think that everything wasn't so terrible.

[wolfiesmoon]

A well-kept secret...

Alhaitham x gn!reader

the triumphant writing return of your favourite incompetent idiot🥰

as always i apologise if i get anything wrong lore-wise i'm not in sumeru yet on my acc and i don't want to spoil the story for myself so i'm going of pure vibes

"huh i could have sworn you wrote something like this before..." no i didn't here's 5000 bucks now shut up ...anyways, after getting re-obsessed w genshin i have decided to cook smth up for my alhaitham kissers😏😏😏😏 that and i've decided to watch a 20 h playthrough of the entirety of HSR bc neither my phone nor my laptop can handle that game and i want to see what comes after Jarilo (and i wanna write fics too come on)

ALSO HOW COULD I FORGET I FINALLY GOT NEUVILLETTE 🥰🤭😘😱😍🙏🏻💁‍♀️😍😘🤩🙂‍↕️😻😽😸🫦 HUBBYS HOME FR FR

The thing you could have never expected upon getting a job at the renowned Akademiya of Sumeru is that you would fall for the Akademiya's elusive scribe, Alhaitham.

It bothers you to no end that it just has to be him of all the people in Teyvat, since you know he'd never return your affections, even in a million years. He just isn't a man who places importance in romance, you've learned.

And even so, he doesn't seem to like you much in general. It's not that you're a bad person, not at all, you just kind of feel like he's slightly annoyed by your presence. You always catch the silent sigh that escapes his lips when you happen to have to deliver something to him and his replies are even more curt than usual when talking to you.

So you just watch him from afar, stealing occasional glances at him while he's face deep in a book or taking a leasurely nap by the window. It sort of makes you sad, as beautiful as the sight is.

You'd love to tell him how you love the way his fingers slide over the book spines as he's searching for just the right book to examine, or the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he's reading, or the way his chest slowly rises and falls when he's napping next to- Oh, now you're just making yourself even more miserable.

And though you already know what he'd say if you revealed your feelings towards him, you can't help but want to confess them all anyways.

You turn the corner, important scrolls that you're supposed to give to him in hand. You find Alhaitham slumped over his desk, seemingly asleep. It's a secluded, quiet corner of the Akademiya that you know he likes to take naps in, so it's not a surprising sight. In fact it's a very welcome one. Atleast for you.

You think about waking him up for a brief moment, but then decide that you'd rather not face his annoyed glare today. So you simply place the scrolls on the desk in front of him, hoping he'll notice them once he wakes up.

As you turn to leave, you suddenly get an idea. There might just be a way you can release your pent-up feelings for him without him ever knowing.

He's asleep right now, so there's no harm in a tiny little confession, right? It's not like he'll hear it anyways.

But then again, that's such a pathetic way of confessing that it actually hurts. What are you, a lovestruck teenager?

After a few seconds of your ego having an internal battle with your lovesick heart, the heart comes out the victor. You take a deep breath, deciding to make it quick because he may wake up any second.

"I'm in love with you and I wish you were mine." you blurt out somewhat awkwardly before turning on your heels and getting the hell out of there.

In fact, you left so fast that you failed to notice the way Alhaitham's cheeks dusted a light shade of pink and his eyes slowly opened, staring at the wall on his right.

"Mmmm..." he groaned, shoving his head into the crevice of his elbow that was laid out on the table.

.

Although you know that he never heard your confession, you still feel too giddy to approach him at all the next day. You've really just gone and did that, and looking at his face would be an all too vivid reminder of it.

"Here's the document the scribe requested this morning. He said you must deliver it to him." your coworker handed you a neat folder, tied with a colorful string.

Knowing there's no way you'd be able to face Alhaitham so soon, you asked your friend to do it for you, knowing she'd happily take a break from reviewing documents to deliver one instead.

And so your day continued on without a hitch and you slowly started to forget all about yesterday as you became engrossed in your work. Maybe it's better that way, after all.

As the day came to a close, you took one last overview of the work you've done just to make sure that everything has been translated properly before storing the documents away and turning around to head towards the exit.

However, you were jumpscared by someone standing right in front of you with his arms crossed. Your eyes met a pair of turquoise ones and you let out a stranged noise of surprise. It's Alhaitham in all his glory.

"Oh, it's you. Well, goodbye, I'll see you tommorow." you smiled at him as wide you possibly could, laughing awkwardly and walking around him, too flustered to wait for a reply from him.

"You didn't bring me the document." his voice stopped you in your tracks and you turned your head back to look at him. Have you forgotten something, after all? What document could he be- Oh, he means the one delivered by your friend.

"Oh, I got busy, so I asked my friend." you shrugged, wondering internally why he's even confronting you about this.

"It was an opportune... Hm. What's done is done." he makes a small pause before fully turning around to face you. "I heard your confession yesterday."

No. No way.

Okay, that's it. You're actually going to die now. And the blunt way he said it makes it so much worse. You knew you should have done it when he was wearing those soundproof earpieces of his. You cursed yourself out internally for not noticing that he wasn't wearing them back then.

"Heard what?" you decided to act dumb, though you're sure you sound anything but convincing right now.

"You said you're in love with me." his eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise, his body language was the same as always. So that means you can't gauge his thoughts on the confession at all in order to act accordingly.

"What in the world are you talking about?" you kept up your act of innocence. You'd rather die than admit you actually said that to his face, while you thought he was asleep, no less.

"Hm. I never took you for a such cowardly person." He sighed, then continued. "You could blame it on the lack of interaction between us."

The sudden comment about your cowardice to admit to something you did was like a stab to the belly, but you quickly recovered, trying your best to not look offended. You thought he was the type of guy to avoid conversations about embarrasing things he overheard, or, well "unnecessary" things, as he would put it. He's never even initiated a conversation with you before, dammit.

"Ugh... so, are you mad about it?" you finally gave up on acting coy. Though you're sure you can answer your own question right now.

"What an... interesting hypothesis." Alhaitham closed his eyes, turning around. "Next time, make sure to do what I ask of you. It's simply for my own convenience." Then he just up and left, leaving you standing there like an idiot.

Really? That wasn't a proper answer at all. You would have thought he'd simply reject you if he really wanted things to be as convenient for him as possible. Giving you vague answers makes this convenient for neither of you.

But, then again... he didn't reject you right off the bat. That's something, right?

As much as Alhaitham called you out on your cowardice earlier, he found himself thinking that he's no better as he dropped onto his bed that night. How in the world is he supposed to admit to you that he wants you to deliver the documents that he needs because he enjoys looking at your face? How is he supposed to admit that he catches occasional glances of you too, sometimes? How is he supposed to admit to you that your mere presence clogs up the words in his throat, making him unable to speak as eloquently as he wants?

How is he supposed to admit to you that your little confession yesterday just ruined his ability to think rationally, that you made him broken beyond repair?

"Ugh, how bothersome..." he pinches the bridge of his nose. He hates how irrational love is.

[octuscle]

Student Fare

"According to my system, you have booked a ticket for economy class in the student fare… And it says Mason and not Martin Harper. I'm sorry, but I'll have to make a few adjustments." Annoyed was not an expression for what Martin felt. He had had a successful, but also very exhausting week. And he was now looking forward to a quiet flight to Chicago. Not in economy class. In business class. And he certainly hadn't booked a student fare. Well, not him anyway. His secretary normally took care of the bookings. But she was on vacation. And the replacement was clearly incompetent. And she would be fired on Monday morning.

"Give me your luggage, please. Actually, I should send you to an economy class counter. But I'll make an exception," said the ground staff lady. Martin wanted to reach for his suitcase. But instead of the expensive aluminum suitcase from Rimowa, there was an old, worn sports bag. Martin was about to call the police when the lady told him that it was okay, she had had to adjust the luggage because of his fare. Martin nodded understandingly, but inwardly wondered what was going on. Did he have hand luggage? Martin wanted to reach for his laptop bag. But there was only a rucksack. Completely irritated, he held it up and the lady smiled, gave him his boarding pass and wished him a good flight. But he should hurry, the queue at security was long. Martin replied that he could use the fast lane. The lady smiled wryly and just said "Student fare!"

Martin picked up his rucksack and, cursing inwardly, headed towards the security checkpoints. When was the last time he hadn't used the fast lane? He had probably really been a student then. He hated crowds. He loved flying primarily because his money and his success allowed him to travel privileged and away from the crowds. It was no fun that way. It was crowded, the people around him were sweating, pushing and shoving. Martin took off his jacket. He wanted to loosen his tie knot. But apart from his cool necklace with the pendant he'd brought back from spring break in Acapulco, there was nothing there. Shit, that was hot. Matin took off his cap and wiped his forehead. His hair was soaked with sweat. Even though it looked silly, he tied his jacket around his hips. He rolled up his sleeves. His hairy, muscular forearms were also glistening with sweat. The various bracelets he wore looked cool, but they were a nuisance in this sweltering heat. Masin smelled his wrist. Shit, the bracelets really stank to high heaven.

Finally, the security checkpoint was in sight. It was just as well, boarding started in half an hour. Masin threw his rucksack into the plastic tray, added his belt and cap and had himself x-rayed. Although nothing had beeped, the crisp security officer demanded that Masin be checked. It was probably no accident that he was able to get right up to his nipples through the large sleeve holes of Masin's tank top. Masin had to restrain himself from reflexively grabbing the bulge of the Latino in uniform. "Hey, college boy, is that your backpack?" Shit, the weed, Mason thought to himself. The face of the officer standing at the security checkpoint with his backpack looked menacing. "My bro is clean, let him pass!" the Latino shouted to his colleague. Shit, he really deserved a firm grip on his cock, Mason thought to himself and blew the Latino a kiss.

Boarding had already started. Nevertheless, Mason urgently needed to take a piss before boarding. Fortunately, there was a toilet right opposite the gate. The businessman in the navy blue suit at the urinal next to him looked at Mason's cheesy uncircumcised cock with a mixture of disgust and lust. Mason didn't miss it. He hinted at a wank. The guy next to him immediately started too. Mason laughed. What a pathetic faggot. He lifted his right arm, tensed his biceps and let the guy inhale the smell of his wet armpits. Normally Mason took ten dollars for that. Or at least an invitation to a beer. Shit, beer! He had to get supplies for the flight!

"Last and urgent call for Mason Harper, booked on American Airlines Flight 241 to Chicago," Mason quickened his pace a tiny bit. Beer and protein bars in his backpack. Whichever poor devil was sitting next to him was either going to have a lot of fun or none at all. The young man at the boarding pass control was playing fate. "I'm afraid we're overbooked," he apologized. The only seat available is in Business Class. Would you mind? Business Class! Bloody hell, Mason had never had that before. He boarded the plane. In the seat next to the last available seat was a businessman in a navy blue suit. Mason stowed his rucksack in the overhead compartment, took out two bottles of beer and sat down. This could be a fun three hours.

[logosbot-tm]

I'm not even a shipper but I did see a post (and several tbh) about Mumbo's death in wild life being turned into Mumbo being a rebound/replacement for Scar??? It's so weird even as a nonshipper I know Grian and Mumbo have been iconically Like That (and everybody knows it and jokes about it) for years. I'm convinced a chunk of this fanbase just skips through video

I will say that I'm not fully sure why this was sent to me, but yeah, I've seen it too. Gonna take off the shipping goggles for a hot sec.

(More below the cut...like a lot more, this ended up as a long ass ramble)

Mumbo's treatment within fandom is rather... odd, in my opinion. He gets pushed to the side a lot, he's treated as if he's pathetic (which yes, Ik that the "wet cat" thing is a joke, but when he's consistently portrayed as pathetic you start to wonder), he's treated as a replacement/rebound for Scar, Grian and his interactions are spun into being about Desert Duo (yes, I've seen this happen multiple times, its weird), disloyal, completely incompetent, and when he died he was immediately talked about as "The new canary".

Which

1) That was Jimmy's curse, why are you trying to apply it to someone else who doesn't fit?

2) No, Mumbo wasn't the first one out when the curse was first broken, that was Lizzie

Mumbo and Grian's friendship is also treated as Not As Important As Desert Duo™️. Grian being distraught about Mumbo's death? Nah, let's focus on Desert Duo being friends instead. Grian bringing Mumbo (and Skizz) back to life? Let's focus on the fact that Scar and Grian flew around together (which is cute don't get me wrong). Mumbo killing Grian after being instructed to do so? Let's talk about how this a Desert Duo parallel.

Hell, Grian and Mumbo's friendship isn't even the biggest "victim" of being twisted as only existing to further the Desert Duo narrative. The friendship that has been most affected by it (within fandom ofc), is Grian and BigB's friendship.

Which, is even odder to me. Grian and BigB have known each other for ages, Grian went and looked for BigB himself (because He Wanted To Be Secret Soulmates), Grian said in 3rd life that he didn't want to kill BigB, and the two of them have known each other for long as hell and have even travelled to Sweden together irl (wayback in like 2017).

There's a lot to say about the fandom's treatment of BigB but yeah, not what this post is about.

It's very difficult to interact with fandom content within both the Life Series and Hermitcraft nowadays. You can't escape Desert Duo or Scarian, even if you try. A lot of the time another ship tag, duo tag, or character tag ends up clogged with Desert Duo/Scarian stuff, and if you block the tag it gets filled with blacked out post saying "This post contains Scarian, do you want to see it anyway?" (<can't remember the exact wording), and often UNTAGGED Scarian/Desert Duo posts pop up in other tags, often tagged with another ship that has nothing to do with the post (<Seen this happen a few times in the Grumbo tag). The Scaridarity tag is filled with Scarian posts, which makes it hella annoying to go through/follow that tag.

And yes. Grian and Mumbo have been a duo since... 2017? 2018? Somewhere around there. They're genuinely close as all hell, having gone on a roadtrip together, and having travelled to Sweden together. They both put references to each other in their videos all the time, they have a robot son named after their (at the time) duo/ship name, and in the life series they've been on a team 2/3 times + they always base closely on Hermitcraft (more than once they've linked their bases, more than once they've had a messaging system).

But nowadays that's largely ignored/pushed to the side, and for a little while there was this odd idea about a "Grumbo divorce".

Which, yes I know it was a joke, but also...what???

On the Hermitcraft server, the Hermits doesn't interact all the time. It's literary called /Hermit/-craft. Often, this is because the Hermits are busy with their own projects, things irl, or they just don't interact. This doesn't mean that a ship is getting "divorced" or anything. Hell, it's a ship. The shipping shouldn't be your main focus when watching a video. The shipping is just something for fun.

So yeah, it was weird to see the "Grumbo divorce" jokes be made, when they're still very close, and Are Still Like That™️ about each other.

There's also this odd thing I've noticed within the fandom, where people can't let Grian and Scar do things on their own without twisting it into Scarian.

No, I promise that in the escape room video that Scar wasn't in, Grian didn't think at all about the fandom's headcanon that Scar is a vex.

All this being said, I also have to say that:

I don't hate Scarian. Does it frustrate me? Yes! Very much so.

But that's because of the fandom. I am a Scarian shipper, I enjoy Scarian, and I enjoy Desert Duo a lot. The fandom has made that experience a lot less enjoyable, because of the weird treatment of other people, because you can't escape it even if you try, because everything gets twisted into Scarian/Desert Duo all the time.

It's frustrating, because it's barely the Hermitcraft or the life series fandom anymore, it's basically the Scarian fandom.

Which, fine, I get it. Its the biggest ship, and I understand the enjoyment of it, nothing wrong with that.

But there's other people on both servers, other duos, other teams, and I promise you everything isn't about Scarian all the time.

I think that Scarian shippers/Desert Duo enjoyers mainly watch Scar's videos, with shipping goggles already on, and then they watch Grian's. They read into things that genuinely doesn't matter, all to further the narrative of Scarian. (I'm not saying everyone does this, or that they do it on purpose, but it comes across as such.)

I can't say that I haven't read too much into something because of a ship, hell, I've been here for Mumbo and Grian as a duo since before the duo even existed.

But to me it feels as if it's going a tad bit too far now.

I keep seeing more and more people get frustrated and tired of Scarian/Scarians, and I get it entirely. I see this happen from multiple corners, from multiple people.

Also, Grian and Mumbo are a duo to such an extent that the Hermits comment and joke about it, hell, even non-Hermits do that. I mean Tommyinnit straight up said "You (Grian) and Mumbo come as a pair".

I'd also like to mention the odd treatment of Grumboers from Scarian. Yes, I know that some Grumbo shippers have entered the Scarian tag just to hate on it, don't do that. Just... genuinely, don't do that, what the hell are you even doing actually.

But when Scar said that people were "Annoyed with him and Grian teaming together all the time" (Which they haven't done. They've interacted a lot, which ain't surprising. They're p good friends), there was an odd wave of posts I saw that blamed Grumboers?

I assure you, that whole thing wasn't our fault. People who've complained about that have done so in the YouTube comments, on reddit, and ofc some have done so on twitter (which is just an awful cesspool of negativity, which is why I don't use it).

It's not our fault. A lot of Grumbo shippers are also Desert Duo enjoyers/Scarian shippers. I mean, I am.

There's also this odd narrative that "Grumbo shippers never experienced this much hate when Grumbo was the biggest ship"

Which is just blatantly false.

In the past, people got hate and death threats for shipping. Didn't matter what you shipped, you got hate for it.

At the time, there was a bunch of posts, much more negatively charged than this one, where people went "This isn't the Mumbo and Grian fandom, stop treating it as such." There were a lot of posts about how Grumboers were annoying as all hell, and how we clogged tags. There were straight up hate posts being spread, often by the majority of the fandom.

Shipping with in the Hermitcraft fandom wasn't accepted at all, and Zombiecleo got bullied of off tumblr for saying that she didn't care if people were engaging in shipping.

I'm glad that shipping is accepted now, because by god it was an awful time, but don't say that "Grumbo shippers never had it this bad". We had it a lot worse. Shippers as a whole had it a lot worse. Don't pretend like it didn't happen, and don't try to act as if it's only Scarian shippers that have been hated.

In all honesty, I'm just tired of all of this. Like really tired. I'm tired of seeing everything get twisted into Scarian/Desert Duo, I'm tired of the ignorance of the fandom's past, and I'm tired of seeing hate aimed at any ship/shippers

But I do think that its time to leave the desert. It's not fun to be in the fandom anymore due to the behaviour. Sure, keep shipping, keep having fun. But for God's sake please stay in your lane, tag your things properly, and please stop trying to force Scarian/Desert Duo upon everyone.

I don't think that the hate is deserved, but everything isn't about Desert Duo.

This is most likely the only time I'll make a post like this, and I'm only making it because I'm finally fed up and tired.

Thank you for the ask.

[prettealolilol]

Reversed Robins : Tim Drake

Here, I give you how I see reversed robins happening, but centered onTim

So Tim has always stalked Batman and Shadowbat (Damian, as robin can only be brought by Dick), and was fucking good at it (Damian was raised by assassin and never realised he was being followed). He admired and adored them, especially after Shadowbat saved him from being mugged the first night he went out to follow them.

He guesses their identity because of Damian's 'tt'. When he saves him as Shadowbat, he makes some comment about being alone at night as a kid, followed by a 'tt'. He then accompanies Tim back to the bus stop. Tim always knew Damian was a softy. During Damian's first gala, when he is introduced to this shy 6 year old, he makes that same sound, annoyed at being compared to a child.

Fast foward 6 years in which Tim does not have more interactions with the Wayne, only admiring from rooftops and galas. Damian is 16 and starts arguing with Bruce since he wants to have his own persona and not be Batman's sidekick anymore. Obviously Bruce doesn't let him because that's his son and he doesn't want him to go alone. So Damian moves out (technically to one of Bruce's apartment because he's still a minor) and becomes Nightwing, patrolling on the other side of Gotham.

Batman becomes a tad bit more violent (not as much as when Jason died obviously) out of anger and Tim feels he has to step in. He has training and he's smart, so he starts joining Batman on patrol to try and regulate the man. He introduces himself as Batkid. It takes a few weeks for Batman to accepts this new child he knows nothing about, and a few weeks later Tim is introduced to the cave. Nightwing is aware of this new child, and even if it annoys him that this kid replaced him, he mostly ignores Tim and the way he looks at him with stars in his eyes.

A year after becoming Batkid and a few weeks after letting slip up he has known Batman identity all the time, he is brought back to the manor. Bruce is baffled by that child who is actually his 12 year old neighboor and a genius. He doesn't adopt him or even think about it (because Dick was the reason Bruce even had the idea, and Damian is his blood son so it doesn't cross his mind) but he still offers a room in the manor that Tim gladly accepts. Damian is not thrilled, this child has known his identity and is threatening his place as the heir. So he acts as Damian always does: cold and mean. He constantly belittles Tim, when they train he critics him and doesn't hold back. But Tim has always wanted a brother (and it's Shadowbat !) so he doesn't complain because if it can make Damian accept him, then he'll do anything.

One evening, after training, Tim is exhausted and ask if they can take a break. Damian rains insults on him, he's incompetent, weak, useless and pathetic, no rogue will just let him rest in the middle of battle. Later that night, Tim goes out even though he's benched, to prove to Damian he can be something. He stumbles upon Harley, and the whole JJ thing happens. Except, when Batman arrives, Joker has already shot Tim and escaped. So Tim dies, laughing and begging for help and forgiveness, bleeding out in Bruce's arms who was too late.

Somehow, after being burried, Ra's gets a hand on him. The guy has been observing Tim before he was Batkid, when he realised he had been foloowing Batman around. (so either he wakes up in his grave and Talian brings him, or Ra's goes get the body directly from the grave to the pit). So he wakes up in the pit, green eyes and white strands of hair. The effect of the pit is not pure madness and bloodlust, but more like sharp thoughts, he'll do what is most efficient no matter the process. His physical scars from being JJ are gone, but he's not healed mentally. He still gets phantom itches in the corners of his mouth. He gets trained by the league, manipulated to hate the batfam, loses his spleen. Tim is a little genius Ra's pretty much wants as his heir, which makes Tim pleased because that's something he has over Damian. He knows there's a new Batkid, Jason Todd, who Bruce adopted, and took his place and has so much more than Tim was ever given from the batfam.

Tim goes back to Gotham 3 years after his death (he's 16), because he still has to take Joker down. He goes to the Drake's manor, where he starts living in since his parents are still always travelling. He ends up finding pictures he took before becoming Batkid that bring back memories he had forgotten through the pit and Joker's torture. It helps him clear his mind from the pit's madness and Al Ghul manipulation, and change his views on killing Batman and Batkid. He hacks into the bat computer to see all he has missed : fights filmed from the batcowl, training from the batcave cameras... all to realise that Jason had it so easy. Damian never insultes him and is a soft big brother, Bruce treats him like his child, even adopting him as soon as he could (Jason's parents were still alive so why did he never asked to Tim ?). He was Bruce's son before being Batman's sidekick.

so Tim becomes the Red Hood and kills the Joker to announce his arrival. He still goes to attack Batkid because he's jealous and the kid has to realise life isn't perfect (Tim knows Jason grew up in Crime Alley, but he's hurt so he's gonna make sure he's not the only one), but has no intention on killing the kid. He also has no intention revealing who he is. Because, for all his cockiness, he is scared of being rejected, he probably could not take more hate from Damian. He prefers being seen as a nameless monster rather that the nosy neighboor kid that invited himself in their little cocoon.

The night Jason finds out who Red Hood is, he promises not to tell anyone as long as he can hang out with Tim, because he's so cool and he has guns. Jason doesn't break his promise.

One night Jason gets badly hurt and Red Hood arrives in time to kill the goons. Sadly, Drake's manor does not have the material to treat Jason so Tim does the only thing he can think of while stopping Batkid from bleeding out, he calls Damian (because you're supposed to call your big brother when you're in a shitty situation right ?): saying he has the kid and if he wants him to be fine he better come right now and alone. Nightwing arrives, ready to fight the Red Hood, except he find the guy clearly preventing blood from gushing out from Jason. He takes Batkid and brings him to the batcave, no questions ask. Tim goes to his closest warehouse, waiting for a text from the kid.

Nightwing finds him, demanding explanations. and Tim lashes out because haven't you guys learnt anything ? letting a kid go alone and fight ? the first stupid batkid wasn't enough ? and Damian punches him, don't you dare talk about my the first Batkid that way. And Tim laughs hard, so hard he feels like it could reopen his scars on his lips if they were still there. you're brother ? the one you fucking threw away ? don't you play hero with me Nightwing, you're a full of shit. And Damian is left standing there, silent, because how does he know any of that. Then Red Hood does this thing Tim always did when he was anxious, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms. And Damian realises that's his little brother standing in front of him, who died because of him. In a few seconds, Tim finds himself envelopped by Damian's larger frame (and they both wondered when the other got so big) and cry because why did it take Tim to die for Damian to accept him ?.

Bringing Tim back to the family is tedious, Bruce does not know how to act around this kid (who's more of a teen now) and Damian can see the way Tim flinches everytime he moves. It gets easier when Dick arrives because he's a ray of sunshine.

i just realised i forgot to inlcude the other batkids, i'm terribly sorry TwT. if i write a fic i'll add them, promise (╥_╥)

[exrellian]

Replaced MC AU

Authors Note: the amount of support I’m getting is insane and I am so thankful! I didn’t expect my first series to blow up like this! Comment if you would like to be added to the tag list (which is something I never expected to have) and of course, enjoy part four!!

TW: none really except MC and ??? Shit talking the brothers and royals

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4(you are here)

Someone who feels the same way

??? POV

“Chef! There is someone sleeping in the alleyway next to the restaurant!” A demon said, “if you let homeless people just sleep outside people are going to stop eating here. This is a prestigious restaurant, not a homeless shelter.” The noble demon scoffed at the other

“I will go take care of it.” The chef sighed, grabbing his coat and umbrella from his office before exiting the restaurant and checking the alley beside it. Sure enough, there lays a boy, looking to be physically around the same age as the chef, and he looks like shit

“How long do you plan on sitting in the alley? Humans get sick easily.” The demon spoke, moving his umbrella to cover the soaked boy

“You gonna eat me?” the human asked, not even moving his head up to look at the demon

“Eat you? Ew.”

“Don’t mess with me, I know how demons are.” The chef shook his head, leaning against the wall across from MC

“If I was going to eat you I would have done so already. Aren’t you the precious little exchange student? Weird to see you without one of your guard dogs.” He scoffs as he mentions the seven lords

“Please don’t bring me back there. Who knows what they will do if they found out I was causing a noble demon trouble” MC sputtered, still not making eye contact with the mystery demon

“Ew.”

“Ew?”

“Those lords are as incompetent as the young prince who rules them.” The demon replied with a roll of his eyes “I’m Lawrence by the way. Why don’t you come into the restaurant and get cleaned up, the back room should have some spare clothes since yours are… gross”

“Are you sure your boss would be okay with that?”

“My boss? No, he won’t mind” Lawrence tosses his jacket at MC, still covering both of them with the umbrella

“If you’re sheltering me with an umbrella why do I need a jacket?”

“Put the hood up, hide your face and, since I wear this jacket often it should mask your scent as a human. A lot of noble demons are dining here, if you don’t want the lords knowing you’re here you best hide.” Lawrence explains, helping MC up off the ground

“Why are you helping me? You could have killed me at least five different times now”

“Because you looked pathetic. And I can’t have homeless people outside the restaurant, it will make it look… poor”

Small time skip

MCs POV, first person

I finished getting changed after successfully sneaking in… but now what? Sure I’m all cleaned up but was it all just to go out onto the streets again? Sure I could go to Purgatory Hall but who knows if they have been manipulated by Amelia too. I need to get a job and find a place to stay, even if I just hotel jump until the end of my time here…

“The uniform looks good on you.” A voice spoke from the door behind me “ready to get working?”

“What? Your… offering me a job here? But how will I go unnoticed!? And I’m a human, so won’t the demons be inclined to avoid this place with me working here!?” I ask, shocked at the sudden declaration that he was giving me a job

“An illusion spell, I put it in the uniform before you get changed. To me and any other demon you look and smell like a demon. No one will recognize you like this.” Lawrence explained, it’s as if he was prepared for this

“Oh… well I guess that makes sense, but why offer me a job? This just doesn’t seem right, you are a demon correct? Why help a useless human this much?” I asked, not fully trusting in this random demons intentions

“You ask so many questions, it’s annoying. I just felt like it, that’s all. This is my restaurant so I can give anyone I please a job.”

“Your restaurant!? You own this place!? The lords came to eat here many times, saying this was the fanciest restaurant in the Devildom!”

“If I could ban them from coming here I would. I had to work overtime any night you all came. That gluttony demon is a real problem for any restaurant he comes to. And don’t get me started on that prideful fuck, he can rot for all I care, he had the gall to tell me I was being too conservative with the serving sizes, at my own damn restaurant” Lawrence rants on and on, it was almost comforting to find someone who hates them as much as I do now “the only tolerable one is the young lords butler, at least he seems to have a shred of respect, unlike the other eight. Not even the prince can respect other people enough to not shout everything he says like he is the most important being in the three worlds”

“You seem to really hate them, don’t you?” I chuckle a bit at his tangent, not expecting someone who looks and acts like he does to go on such a heated rant

“Hate is such a… gentle word. I loathe them, they think they are the best demons ever because one of them was born into power and the other seven used to be angels. Well that doesn’t mean shit in the long run, and they will learn that sooner or later when their little exchange program backfires and the Celestial Realm fucks over both the Devildom and the human realm by extension. If there is one thing I loathe more than the nobles here in the Devildom, it’s the celestial realm” he sighs “we have gotten off topic, do you want the job or not? I live in a two bedroom apartment above the restaurant that you may stay in until you have made enough money to get your own place out until the exchange year comes to an end. Truthfully it would be foolish of you to refuse” he was right, it would be incredibly stupid to turn down this offer.

Tag list; @t-misaki @melpomenelurks @gallantys @skei2p @terodactu @atomsminecraft @cutest-tenshi

[nottivagos]

syn: Mechanic!Danny gives you a lift home after seeing you drenched at the bus stop after work.

wc: 2.1k

an: MECHANIC DANNY FLUFF!! this scene has been stuck in my head for a while, im just glad i finally wrote it!

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

Everything just seemed to be not on your side today.

A busy day at the workshop brought struggles of its own for a start. Endless amounts of paperwork, filing and invoices had to be done, the droning rings and buzzes of the office telephone nearly every five minutes which was then followed by clients barking their demands for MOTs and services only for you to scribble down pathetically and messily, to the annoyed grunts and angry orders from Danny and the others made you want to melt into the floor and never emerge up ever again.

It didn’t help that you’d become so absorbed with work and getting everything done that you’d missed your typical bus that you’d usually get at the end of the day. At this point, you were at your breaking point. Whilst standing at the bus stop, your blurry, tearful vision showed that as you gulped your stressed sorrows away.

Minutes droned on as you waited impatiently for your bus to arrive. You were agitated and emotional, the mixture of pent-up stress from the long week made a nice cocktail bomb of emotions ready to burst at any moment.

Then the rain came. How great.

If you didn’t expect your day to get any worse, this was the final nail in the coffin. The small, unnoticeable pitter patters soon thundered down onto the glass shelter as you tried your best to take cover underneath it whilst trying to maintain warmth in your flimsy coat during the torrential downpour, which you silently begged to end as soon as possible.

Droplets relentlessly trickled off the edge of the bus stop, the water dripping down hitting your scalp and dampening your perfect hairstyle with no mercy whatsoever. So much for styling it this morning, huh?

At this point, you were hoping for a miracle. Now nearly completely drenched to the bone, and unable to catch a ride home due to the incompetent bus service that carried out through your little town, you silently prayed someone would drive past, feel some sort of pity for you, and offer you a life home.

However, that ‘saviour’ wasn’t someone who you’d suspect it to be. After all, not all heroes wear capes. Or in this instance, they wear dirty work polo shirts that don’t fit them as well as they used to.

After finally locking up his garage, ending his long day of mechanic hell, Daniel was driving home when he noticed a shivering figure waiting hopelessly in the bus shelter close to the garage. As he drove closer, his windscreen wipers violently swiped the water from his glass just so he could make out yourself shivering like a lost puppy in the rain due to the weather’s dramatic change in climate.

At first, he was hesitant to give you a lift home. Gritting his teeth slightly, his expression hardened. He’d already had enough of you and your shenanigans for one day whilst in work, but there was something inside of him nagging for him to show you a meagre inch of kindness in asking you if you needed a lift home.

Taking a short drag of his cigarette to try and compose himself, his other hand maintained control over the steering wheel. Whilst driving closer and closer to you, the cars he seemed to be in convoy with ultimately determined his decision in whether he should offer you a ride home or not.

Mercilessly, the cars that sped past you splashed through a large puddle that had formed next to the curb due to the rainfall. The impact of them driving through it caused a rather large gush of water to drown you even more than you already were.

Danny’s grip on the steering wheel slightly tightened as he pressed down on the accelerator pedal a little too much just to express his irritation at the prickish drivers before him. He then quickly regained some composure, before abruptly swerving into the bus lane. The sight of the random car speeding into the bus lane made you jump slightly.

A rolled down window followed, before you were met with your seething boss with a cigarette wedged in between his teeth looking at you with a knowing look. “Well, are you gettin’ in or what?” His voice was rude and blunt, despite it holding some genuine care in it, his eyebrow raising as you made eye contact with him.

“Come on sugar, I ain’t got all day!” Danny exclaimed as you replied with a swift nod, scrambling from the rainy outside to the warmth of his car, as you pulled the door open and plopped into the dirty passenger side with a relieved sigh.

The interior of Danny’s car was well… messy. Hell, ‘messy’ was an understatement. Oil and grime were smeared on the glove boxes and armrests, littered receipts and other sorts of work manuals scattered the vehicle’s floor, the stagnant stench of past smoked cigarettes seeped into the seats and dust collected over the years made you choke slightly as he pulled the car off from the curb.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Danny grumbled dryly, noticing a small grimace that had formed on your face. “I’m planning on cleanin’ it this weekend,” he obviously lied through his teeth, whilst eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s fine, honestly,” you reassured him with an awkward smile, posture tensing as you sat on the worn and aged passenger seat.

For the first few minutes, the journey was awkward to say the least. Surprisingly enough, Danny had some courtesy despite his lack of it in the garage. He’d turned down his loud rock music when you’d entered the car, so you were left with a palpable silence you could’ve been able to cut through with a knife.

You shifted a couple of times in your seat uncomfortably as Danny took small yet long drags from his cigarette. The pull out cup holder had become a makeshift ashtray over the years, you inferred. Danny’s ex wife has always hated his smoking, (which Danny was very vocal about whenever you yourself complained or expressed your concerns) and just ‘mess’ in general, but it seemed ever since she’d left that he’d accumulated enough mess in his car that only five (or maybe even more) ‘deep cleans’ would fix.

“So,” Danny broke the silence as he began gruffly, “Where are you heading?”

“Home,” you quickly replied, “I missed my bus and it started to rain.”

“I figured,” he grumbled in response, obviously unamused by you stating the obvious. “Where do you live?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual, taking a brief glance at you. “I can drop you off. Only if you’d like. It’s no problem.”

A small blush burnt your cheeks at the gesture. “It’s not that far from here,” you began with a soft smile, matching his short-lived glance. “Just up these two streets and then you take a left,” you guided with a hand gesture which Danny followed with a little huff and a small smile himself.

“Didn’t expect you to be a local girl,” he commented lowly underneath his breath, nodding in acknowledgement.

Another awkward silence followed, the hums and roars of Danny’s car engine and the whirring of the heaters blasting hot air onto you both acted like white noise for those uneventful moments.

“Thank you, by the way,” your mumble broke the silence, the apple of your cheeks still a subtle pink colour. “If it wasn’t for you I probably would’ve been waiting for ages,” you added with a small chuckle, trying to downplay your predicament.

“It’s not a problem, really,” he chuckled with a nonchalant shrug. “Always happy to help if you need it, pet.”

There it was again. The nickname. You’d never fully understood the origins of why Daniel called it you so often, other for reasons of harmless endearment purposes or for slight degradation due to the fact that you were the only woman who worked in the garage, but God did it make your insides flip and become fuzzy.

“Are you pretty local then too?” You asked as he continued to navigate through the worsening conditions of the roads and weather.

A short scoff followed. “Born and bred, princess,” he muttered before he pressed the dying butt of his cigarette against the plastic tray. “I never left, actually,” he added as you followed his moments, “never saw any reason to.” He joked half-heartedly, as you noticed his pudgy belly confined by his seatbelt.

As well as this, you couldn’t help but notice his burly, large tattooed arms that revealed themselves as his work polo rode up his bicep. The most noticeable to you was his left side, which showed his rose tattoo on his left hand, and the cupid on his forearm hidden by some unruly hairs now, but you couldn’t help but notice a woman’s name hidden underneath the fabric riding up his bicep whenever his muscles flexed slightly whilst gripping the wheel.

You knew you shouldn’t ask. It seemed wrong to ask. But as stupidly curious as you were, you did anyways.

“Who’s that woman written on the bottom of your bicep?” The question itself was innocent enough, however the response that followed from Danny surely wasn’t.

As soon as you watched Daniel’s jaw lock into place, (undoubtedly from the annoyance and irritation that having this woman’s name tatted on his arm brang), the tense muscles that followed as he got the steering wheel into a death grip, his knuckles going white from the intensity of his clasp on it, you knew you’d messed up.

Frowning upon his reaction, your eyebrows furrowed in sympathy, as you felt terrible for asking. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t.”

Your lips pursed shut as you stayed silent. Gulping nervously, you kept your eyes glued on the road ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with Danny. In that moment a pit of dread formed in your stomach, you thought for sure that he was about to slam the brakes and make you walk home in the rain, but instead, he stayed dangerously silent.

Danny, however, after a few moments, sighed. He couldn't stay mad at you for your curiosity, and it wasn't like you wouldn't find out one way or another.

“It's my ex missus,” Danny replied reluctantly, brushing a large hand through his messy mullet. “I got it in our early days,” he added, his hand coming down to scratch his beard before glancing at you again, “drunken mistake, actually.”

Oh. So that was the ex wife.

“I'm so sorry, Daniel,” you apologised softly, looking up at him. “I-I- didn't know,” you continued, your voice remorseful and shaky as you whispered.

Daniel sighed again at the sight of you. Something about your expression just made his hard exterior melt away, his eyes widen slightly as his gaze softened. It was different than when he was with his ex. He felt purer, with less of a need to be angry or rude. He felt at ease.

“Hey,” his voice was a gentle whisper, glancing over at you for a moment before he placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. “It's alright, darlin’, you didn't know,” he added, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your clothed thigh.

“Yeah– But–”

“But nothing,” he said with a smile, a genuine reassuring one as he squeezed your thigh, whilst he turned into your street. “You didn't know, and that's alright.”

In that moment, you felt your cheeks burn again, your ears pricked hot as your insides flurried happily. “This one's mine,” you pointed out your house with a small smile to Danny as he pulled up on the side of the curb.

“Thank you for the lift,” you broke the silence as you faced him after unbuckling your seat belt. “I really appreciate it,” you added with a soft smile.

Danny chuckled, the creases on his face more distinct as he smiled back at you. “It was my pleasure, princess,” he said as he withdrew his hand from your thigh. “Anytime you need a lift, call me,” he added with a slightly cheesy wink, which made you giggle in response.

In a flash, you pressed your lips against Danny's, feeling him tense at the abrupt action before coming to cup your cheeks when he eventually melted into the gesture. You pulled away with a sweet smile on your lips, watching Danny pant softly from the passion in the gesture.

“Goodnight, Danny,” you whispered gently as you moved away from him in the driver's seat and out of the car. “See you on Monday,” you added with a bat of your eyelashes, “and drive safely home, please.”

“A-always,” Danny responded, dumbfounded as his wide eyes watched you walk into your house after giving him a wave goodbye. He ran his thumb over his lips, still completely flustered by the fact that you'd kissed him as he sat in silence for a few moments outside your house, trying to recollect his thoughts. <3

like mechanic!danny? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so you can be added to my notebook! - notti <3

[xenia12]

Here’s a bunch of 3+ year old incorrect TOH quotes from my notes app because I’m bored

News reporter: There are rumors that you recently went undercover at Hexside under the name “Caleb”. Is this true?

The Golden Guard: Pfft, TITAN no. Caleb’s just a pathetic wannabe who can’t stand his own incompetence. Like, seriously, he can’t do anything right. I feel bad for anyone who has to suffer the embarrassment of being within 20 feet of him. He’s such a loser.

Hunter, watching the clip on his scroll a few hours later: Say that to my face, you fucking tool. Stop being such a royal ass-kisser and get a real job.

The Emerald Entrails, sitting together after practice:

Willow: Are you okay?

Luz: No problemo!

Luz, internally: But it was all problemo.

Gus: What's your biggest fear?

Hunter: Being replaced.

Gus: Damn that's deep.

Gus: My new one is the Kool-Aid man but I feel kinda stupid about it now.

Hunter, lying in the woods, depressed: I'll never be a cop again. I'm gonna have to be a robber.

Lilith: You know, I really wish you’d just admit you made a mistake sometimes.

The Golden Guard, stirring his coffee: I prefer it with salt.

Willow: What are you two arguing about this time?

Hunter: He’s always using human phrases incorrectly!

Gus: Cry me a table, Hunter.

Luz: I'm very disappointed in you, Vee.

Hunter: C'mon, don't get mad at Vee!

Luz: Hunter, stop telling Vee it's okay for her to punch you! She needs to learn not to punch people!

Hunter: But I'm not a person!

Vee: Which is why I punched him!

Lilith: *Turns on the breakroom light*

The Golden Guard: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Lilith: It’s four in the morning.

The Golden Guard: Turn the light back off.

Hunter: The joy of hanging out with Luz. You look away for 5 seconds to make sure something is set up correctly, and she bites the tip of a marker off.

Camila: Can you come out?

Luz: Yeah gimme a minute…

Luz: Mom, I’m bi.

Camila: I know that. Come out to the car.

Luz: Okay.

Luz: Car, I’m bi.

Camila, a tired mother:

Willow: *lifting weights*

Hunter: Wow… She’s so intense!

Luz: I wonder what drives her.

Willow, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

Hunter, protecting a palistrom forest: I am Hunter, I speak for the trees. Chop them down and I snap your knees.

Luz: I wanna be a knight!

Hunter, basically a knight: What the fuck do you want this shit for? I kill people, all right? Their blood is on my hands! Every night, when I go to sleep, I see their FUCKING faces staring at me! Their families weep, and I FEEL NOTHING! I’M DEAD INSIDE!

Luz: Man, I want some of that in my life!

Luz: I want a trip down memory lane.

Vee: *proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Luz’s lap*

Vee: I heard you needed these?

Luz: YES! ALL OF THEM!

Hunter: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Luz: Did Willow say “I love you” and you said “Thanks”?

Hunter: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

The Golden Guard, on live news: I can't imagine what the Owl Lady is planning, but I can tell you two things: we won't like it and it won't be legal.

Gus: Did you win? Or just not die?

Gus: Either way, hooray.

Hunter: ... Is "no" a valid answer?

Gus: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

The Golden Guard: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet?

Darius: Why?

The Golden Guard: I want to wander around playing it to annoy Lilith.

Darius: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that.

The Golden Guard: Darius, you have opened my eyes.

Lilith: Can we talk about that mass message you sent?

The Golden Guard: Why? It was important.

Lilith: All it says is, "I'm back on my shit".

Steve, shrugging: The people need to know.

Gus: How long do you think it’ll be until Willow finally snaps and commits murder?

Hunter: I’ve been operating under the assumption that it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to her.

Hunter: It was difficult, so you’ve just given up. You might fail, so why bother trying?

Luz: Exactly.

Luz, to Amity: I told you he’d understand.

Willow: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up!

Willow: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

Hunter: There's something I have to ask about you-know-who.

Luz: Voldemort?

Hunter: No.

Luz: Is it Voldemort?

Hunter: It's not Voldemort.

Luz: You haven’t mentioned wizards once this conversation, so I’m gonna have to assume it’s Voldemort.

[ilovetheriddler]

Denial of Infatuation.

(Arkham Games) Edward Nigma x F!Reader

(Declaimer: I don't condone or approve of the actions taken in this story. It is purely a work of fiction.)

Word Count: 837.

Contents: Very Suggestive content, Kissing, Obsessive Behavior, Intensely Possessive Behavior.

Edward found these thoughts he often had of you troublesome and quite annoying. The fact that he couldn't keep you out of his mind and it was starting to impact his work was pissing him off. What exactly made you so special? Why did you deserve such a huge part of his thoughts? He wasn't sure, and if there was one thing he hated more than his work being disturbed, it was him not being aware of something.

There were some nights were he found himself walking into your room during the middle of the night, simply so he could stare at you, watch you sleep and rack his brain trying to come up with an answer to these... feelings he had.

Ultimately, he came to a conclusion that overall satisfied his need to know. He concluded that these pesky feelings weren't anything like... love or infatuation, no, he was too important of a man to feel those pathetic things! It was obviously acknowledgment that you, as his assistant, were almost his equal, as close as anyone could come to being that is, and as a result he clearly felt a desire to treat you better than he treated everyone else, maybe even reward you for all your hard work.... he decided that perhaps some compliments were in order.

"... You look adequate today..."

"Huh? Um... Thanks, I guess?"

"The fragrance that your body is currently giving off is surprisingly pleasant..."

"... Do you mean the soap I use? I'm not really wearing any perfume right now, so...."

Needless to say, his attempts didn't often go too well. He was just so used to degrading people that he viewed as beneath him that he genuinely struggled to give decent compliments. He didn't need those to show you his... appreciation, though, maybe actions would assist him where words failed?

He started leaving you little metal flowers that he made out of scrap parts for his contraptions. His heart would beat rapidly in his chest whenever you'd find them. It was an annoying and unfamiliar feeling for him, but he slowly grew to like it.

So, of course, how else was he supposed to react when you told him that some guy asked you out on a date? How dare he! No one.... no one else deserved you, no one other than him. He couldn't allow this to happen, not on his watch. Some idiot wasn't going to just waltz in and lay claim to someone that Eddie viewed as His.

He got rid of the foolish man without any real difficulty. However, the fact that you kept getting asked on dates boiled his blood. So he kept disposing of any man who tried to win your heart, and every time you'd be in tears, wondering why those men always stood you up, and he'd take every chance to comfort you, which shocked you each time because of his usual behavior. But he'd wait, sooner or later you'd realize just how lucky you were to have earned his... interest.

"You know, you don't need those archaic Imbeciles! I mean... you already have a perfectly eligible bachelor right in front of you..."

"H-huh? What do you-"

"Me. Why don't you just put to rest all of these... foolish ideas of being with some boring, unintelligent, incompetent man, and be with me instead?"

"E-Eddie... I don't know... you're my technically my boss, wouldn't that be a bit weird?"

He stared at you in silence for a few moments before resting his hand on your cheek, caressing it surprisingly gentle.

"I promise you, My dear.... that it'd be perfectly fine... in fact, I'd make sure you were happy with me.... trust me..."

"Okay then.... I guess I could um... give it a try?"

You were then startled slightly by his lips suddenly crashing into yours, a desperate sense of need, passion, and repressed desires evident with how forceful and rough the kiss was, his tongue lightly ghosting over your bottom lip, almost demanding that you open your mouth for him. You're too dazed to really respond, though, which leads to him reaching up and yanking harshly on your hair, causing you to let out what sounded like a mixture between a gasp and a whine, he took this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, exploring it thoroughly, as if trying to map out everything. After what felt like quite a bit, he pulled away, wipping a bit of saliva off of his lips. His gaze met yours, a somewhat concerning glean in his eyes as he pulled you closer to him, his breath fanning your neck as he spoke.

"Say that you love me, tell me that I'm the only man that deserves you!"

"Y-you're the only man that deserves me, Eddie...."

You let out a surprised yelp as he picked you up in his dirty, grease, sweat, and dirt covered arms, quickly carrying you towards his room. He clearly was hoping that tonight wouldn't just end at a kiss for him.

[empressofthewind]

i feel like sometimes people forget that the reason Mello hates Near is because he believes Near is better than him. not because he thinks Near is just broadly annoying as a person. not because he thinks Near is somehow beneath him. not because Near is a hermit, or because he’s impassive, or because of his hobbies. some of those things may play a role in his frustration, but the primary reason for his hatred is the fact that Near has always beaten him in the one area of his life that matters. it’s got nothing to do with who Near is as a person, and everything to do with the system that pitted him against Near and forced them to be enemies. he is insulted by the offer to share L’s role with Near, because it reinforces his internalised belief that he is inferior and thus incapable of succeeding on his own. this is what he subsequently sets out to disprove. Near supposedly thinking of him as a tool doesn't annoy Mello because he wishes Near weren't so cold and rude; it annoys Mello because he has been working his ass off for the past five years to prove to Near that he is worthy and equal, and he does not feel like he is being recognised as such. he does NOT think of Near as pathetic and incompetent. he thinks of him as TOO competent in ways that Mello wishes he was.

[prentissluvr]

pirate!au headcanons — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, mild angst, fluff, enemies to lovers ish, kidnapping, weapons, violence, injury(?), fire, 1.1K words. requested !

prompt : royalty!sam x pirate-captain!reader

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

bonus!!! @mxltifxnd0m the requester, my sweet sweet wifey also made a gorgeous moodboard for this set of headcanons! feast your eyes <3

⟢ you’re not the type to take hostages; they’re a hassle for a multitude of reasons, plus you’re not too into making money by selling other people

⟢ but this one was just too easy, and promised too much money to turn down

⟢ not only that, but he looks quite good tied up to a beam in the spare storage room

⟢ “well, well. to what do i owe this pleasure, mr. samuel winchester? oh. i do apologize. duke samuel winchester.”

⟢ there’s a withering look in his eyes as he looks up at you, standing over him with your hands on your hips

⟢ “you tell me,” he retorts, indelicate and unphased by your sharp-edged sarcasm

⟢ you raise your eyebrows at him. “strong willed, are we? i thought you’d be all whiny and pathetic like your annoying royal counterparts. i suppose you might be entertaining to have around after all.”

⟢ quickly, he proves to be more than just that. within four hours of setting sail, he escapes his bondage and almost makes it away on an emergency boat

⟢ of course, you’ll have none of that; he knocks out half of your crew, but is no match against you

⟢ he fights well with a stolen sword, but you disarm him in seconds, then skillfully tackle and pin him to the ground

⟢ “where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?” you snarl into his ear, triumphant as you press a knee into his back to keep him down and tie his hands back

⟢ you brush off the help of your crew as you unceremoniously yank him to his feet and push him back into the storage room, muttering about the incompetence of the people around you

⟢ you retie him to the beam, sure that he’ll be unable to escape again after having done it yourself

⟢ even then, you keep a close eye on him; half to make up for the few blubbering fools on your crew you’re forced to keep for numbers, and half because he intrigues you

⟢ of course, you spend the most of your time keeping the ship orderly, robbing royal barges, and planning details of anything and everything in your private quarters

⟢ but you’ve started taking lunch in his dank storage room, finding pleasure in the way that he glares at you and makes scathing comments about how “you won’t get away with this”

⟢ you, of course, already have gotten away with it, but it’s still entertaining to hear him threaten you

⟢ certainly, you don’t express your entertainment; in fact, you hide it with a glower and near-silence

⟢ soon, sam changes tactics, and he asks questions about you, even flatters you a bit, trying to gain trust

⟢ you easily recognize the game he plays, but you play along. better to let him think that it’s working

⟢ you answer in short sentences, keeping at your mysterious and closed-off persona, but letting enough truth slip through that he can sense your honesty

⟢ it’s easy for you to tell how smart he is; the fact that he escaped so quickly that first day, the way he tries to play you, the exact questions that he asks and the calculated responses that he gives

⟢ that, and the way that he can tell his tactics aren’t actually working. better to let you think that he thinks they are

⟢ really, you both see right through each other with an odd sort of ease

⟢ you despise each other, you suppose, for the reason that you should

⟢ and you so strangely understand each other, the way that the both of you talk with such calculation and caution and intelligence

⟢ the words that you choose to use and the little truths that you let slip through tell you that you’re alike, that you’ve suffered and found refuge in some of the same sorts of things

⟢ what’s stranger is that sam feels this way even when you barely speak. you just sit there in silence most days, and yet, he reads you so easily

⟢ he wonders if you can read him just the same; thinks you can based on your gaze and the pointed, short questions that you ask

⟢ strangest is the way he wishes that you’d speak more often, maybe just to prove that not everything out of your mouth has to be scathing and cold

⟢ when the ship catches fire during a battle, sam discovers that while your words may be rough and mean, your actions are not always

⟢ he’s already coughing from the smoke seeping in from the crack under the door when you burst in, determined and silent

⟢ the flames spread and the crew rushes about, doing their best to douse the flames, but you’re untying his bonds and grabbing the collar of his shirt to push him out

⟢ you hand him a bucket, grab your own, and don’t say a word unless to shout orders as you work tirelessly with your crew to save the ship

⟢ sam does not make a run for it when he so easily could. sam helps

⟢ the damage was contained, and the ship can make it to the next port for repairs without problem, but sam’s room is unusable

⟢ the only empty space able to fit him is either your bedroom or your office, and either sound like torture to you

⟢ you tie him up in your small office, now forced to be extra careful to hide and store your documents and keep them out of sight when you use them

⟢ but you don’t tie him up quite as tight as before, and you take him on walks around the deck

⟢ you give him a cot and tie up his leg. he could get out of it if he wanted, with his skill, but he doesn't

⟢ then you untie his leg and let him eat at your desk across from you, and then you discuss plans and books and politics with him, and then you have him wrapped around your finger

⟢ you still pretend to hate each other, but he’s smart and resourceful and helps you with your plans

⟢ and you’re secretly more compassionate than most royalty he’s ever met, and you treat him fairly and respectfully once you realize he deserves it

⟢ he likes it on your ship and you like having him there, and one day when you threaten to tie him back up, he gives you a withering look like the first time he laid eyes on you

⟢ it takes less than a few moments for your lips to be on his and your hands tangled in his hair

⟢ his rough hands grip your waist and without question, he’s your second in command, your right hand man

[chaifootsteps]

Bit of a quick rewrite of Stella and Andrealphus' conversation from "western energy", featuring caring mom Stella. This also has more leaning into Andrealphus abusing Stella, though not outright said.

“Hiring an assassin won’t turn out well for you.”

Stella rolled her eyes, sipping her tea as Andrealphus spoke. She knew this would happen upon telling her pain in the tail brother about Striker and the assassination attempt on Stolas. That pathetic man had not only cheated on her, but was using Octavia’s inheritance as a leverage over the imp who was being forced to fornicate with him. In the swan’s eyes, killing him meant more to her than whatever she could gain by dragging out a divorce.

“Afterall, you’ve already produced an heir.” Andrealphus continued. “When Stolas dies, his possessions, his duties, his legions, it will all go to… Via.”

“Isn’t that what was going to happen anyway?” Stella asked, once again annoyed with her brother. “Octavia is our heir, not that that seems to matter much to Stolass.” She muttered the last part under her breath.

“Yes, but consider, you won’t get anything if his death happens prematurely.” Andrealphus explained, once again patronizing her. The way he talked to her, it made Stella feel like a child again, being scolded and treated as inferior simply because of her gender.

Once again, Stella rolled her eyes. It’s not like Via would simply get rid of her mother once she took Stolas’ place, but Andrealphus’ words did make her think. Stolas hadn’t even taught Octavia any spells, or anything about her duties as their heir, and that made the swan even angrier. The women of the Goetia were already deemed as nothing more than heir makers, forced to marry more influential and powerful men and then be used as eye candy or tossed aside for their next side piece.

If Octavia took the throne now, without knowing anything about her duties, or powers or spells? It would be a disaster. The other Goetia would deem her as an ‘incompetent woman’ and the poor dear would be forced into an arranged marriage, to someone else who’d take everything that was supposed to be Octavia’s birthright. She would go down as a laughing stock among the nobility, despite it being Stolas’ job to teach her these things in the first place!

“My fiery vixen, we have an opportunity here.”

Stella could see that look in Andrealphus’ eyes, the same one he had when he was going to use her for his own whims, abuse her simply because he could. Andrealphus had always wanted more power, more possessions and legions, and she knew he’d do anything to get it.

Including marrying Octavia.

Her grip on the teacup tightened, but she needed to remain calm. Despite her thoughts of clawing her brother’s eyes out, she needed time. She unfortunately needed Stolas alive, so he could hopefully get his head out of his cloaca and actually teach their daughter. Stella would not have Octavia forced into the same position she was, she wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re right.” She replied calmly, which seemed to shock Andrealphus. “I’ll call it off for now.”

The peacock cleared his throat, trying to get over his shock, which made Stella smile into her teacup. “Very good, I knew you’d see it my way, you saucy minx~” he said as he clapped his hands for a servant to bring them the phone.

His words made her skin crawl, but Stella would endure them for eternity if it meant keeping Octavia safe from him and the other Goetia. Octavia would have her own kingdom, with no one telling her what to do, or who to marry, or telling her she needed to produce an heir. Her daughter would not be reduced to a footnote in Goetia history, Stolas will teach her.

Even if Stella has to force him to.

Oh god, this one made my skin crawl and audibly had me saying "No, no," which is more of a reaction than HB has gotten out of me in years. But fuck yes to protective Stella hating her brother, the Goetia family, and the system that did this to her just a little more than she hates Stolas.

Well done, Anon.