#workaholics fic

[uses-for-fics]

Are you ashamed of me?

Anders Holmvik/ Fem Reader

a/n: he looks so cute right here!! i cant explain it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been working overtime the past whole week, so you had not been able to meet up with your boyfriend, Anders, for a few days. After work, you were too exhausted to hang out with him and would instead eat, take a shower, and head straight to bed. You were putting in extra hours to save up for your upcoming anniversary, which coincided with the Norwegian food festival that you had bought tickets for a few weeks ago. You planned to spoil him with every dish his heart desired. Since you were getting off work around 3 pm today, you decided to head over to his place after work. Expecting him to arrive not long after you had reached his place. You approached the door and heard loud mechanical sounds from inside. After knocking again, you finally received a response of "GOING!". A blood-covered Blake opened the door. He smiled realizing it was you. “Oh! Hey y/n! No overtime today?”

You raised a brow at how nonchalant he was behaving even though he was covered head to toe in blood. “Yeah, I finally saved up enough so no more overtime this week and I'm off work tomorrow, so I got Anders all to myself.” Blake made space for you to come in.

He winced as you passed by. “Ooo if only you were here a bit earlier.” you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“You don't know?” he tilted his head.

“Know what?” You stopped in place.

“Anders isn't here!” Adam yelled from the kitchen. “Where is he?” you yelled back, heading towards the kitchen. “HIS DAD- oh you're here now.” Adam stopped yelling after seeing you walk into the kitchen.

“Oh my god! What are you guys doing?” you gasped. The kitchen was covered in blood. Adam was attacking a strung-up cow with a chainsaw, not caring where the blood was splattering.

“We're making jerky.” Blake had finally reached the kitchen.

“What? Ok, you know what, not important. Where's Anders?” you shook your head. Adam put down the chainsaw. “His dad came for him. They're out buying a car right now.

"Oh." You looked down soaking in the new information. 'Why wouldn't he tell you his father was in town? Was he ashamed of you?' You shook your head not trying to imagine the worst. Blake noticed your sudden change in mood. "Hey... forget him man, how about you hang with us and make jerky!" He smiled. He turned to Adam, realizing he wasn't paying attention, he shoved his elbow in his gut.

"Oww, I mean, yeahhh why don't you join the meat jerking boys or whatever." Adam went back to cutting up the cow and Blake rolled his eyes.

You laughed. "You call yourselves the meat jerking boys?" Blake shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much, so do you want to hang out with us?" You sighed. "Fuck it why not!"

You spent the rest of the night letting your frustration out on the 'pre-jerky' how Adam liked to call it. Cutting it up, stabbing it, beating it up so bad it was starting to look like a crime scene. You ended up taking an early leave, going to take a shower and lie in Anders bed. You drowned out the hard rock music the boys were playing, thinking of your 6'2ft, fresca loving goofball. You couldn't remember falling asleep, all you could remember was cuddling up in one of Anders' old tees and hugging his pillow. Letting his oddly forest-y scent engulf you.

You had felt something touching your face. Your hand went to swat it away. Again, something brushed across your cheek. "Get off." you mumbled reaching up and feeling your hand touching something cold. You opened your eyes suddenly scared by the random object caressing you. "What?!" you sat up hitting your head against Anders. "Oww." he groaned, rubbing his forehead from where he got hit. "What are you doing here?" you laid back down, covering yourself up again.

He chuckled. "I can ask the same question, you're the one in my bed." You rolled your eyes. "Why do you care? Shouldn't you be with your dad, driving around in your new car, trying to impress him with your fake life?" You sat up again. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "Hey maybe while you're at it, why don't you get a new girlfriend? Oh, wouldn't that be perfect? A perfect, meticulously chosen life all created by your father. Yeah, that would just be so great and why don't you take your new girlfriend and dad to this." You reached towards his bed side drawer, grabbing the tickets from the top. "Here, happy anniversary I guess." Your eyes getting teary, unable to stop your tears from falling. He grabbed the tickets from your hand and gasped. The Norwegian food festival, it was all Anders had been talking about the past three months. "You remembered.' His heart sank as he saw you just give a soft nod. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter anymore." He reached for you. "No. What? Come here." You pushed him away. "No Anders, you can't just make this go away with a hug! I don't care how hot or stupidly adorable your sleepy face looks. You lied and not just to anyone. It was to your dad. Really? Out of anyone, you just had to choose your dad?" Anders shook his head. " I can care less about what my dad says." He reached for you again. You let him hug you. You mumbled into his shirt letting your tears fall. "I wish I could believe you.' He pulled from you, not being able to hear you when you spoke into his shirt. "What was that?" He wiped the tears from your cheeks. "I know how you feel about your dad Anders. You're always trying to impress him, I just want to know why?"

He thought for a second. You couldn't help but snort. "It was a rhetorical question dumbass."

"Oh." He smiled at you. You sighed and laid your hands on his cheeks, it had been so long since you'd been able to even see him, much less touch him. You placed your forehead against his. "I just,,, I think you're the most beautiful, hardest working, sweetest, adorable goofy goober to exist and seeing you bend over backwards for your dad every time you get a call from him, makes me so pissed cause you're so perfect so why should you change the way you are for someone who doesn't appreciate you?"

Anders leaned forward and kissed you. His arms gripped you tightly, pulling you closer and closer every second. Your hands tangled in his hair, slightly pulling on it. You pulled apart for air but kept your hands in his hair. "I want to marry you." He smiled.

"Anders." you gasped.

"You're right Y/n. I'm always doing everything my father wants. I'm always trying to earn his love and respect when the only person I really care about is right in front of me." "Dersy.' your tears fell again. He started giving you pecks all over your face. " I'll tell him the truth tomorrow but for right now, I want to spend time with you." He laid down next to you and snuggled up as close as he could. "I love you." He snuggled his head into your neck. "I love you more." You smiled, feeling sleep catch up to you again. You guys spent the rest of the night cuddling and enjoy the comfortable silence. As quiet as it could be with Adam and Blake there.

[l-luxem]

&&　　decided to write my own ahahah. It's a silly little thing that's been in my notes app, rotting. So here it is. Love me some pretty boy Yans and tired workaholics. Not sure what to call this?? Is it a blurb?? Or???

PRETTY BOY! YAN X MALE! READER

(context: you know each other via dating app)

You stared at the pretty boy in front you with possibly the most blank expression humanly possible. He breaks into a sweat under your intense gaze, attempting to stare back at you before giving up. This was one hell of a date. Was this his punishment? Did you finally find out that he's been stalking you for months now and are staring in disgust at his frustratingly beautiful face?

He wept in silence, his smile faltering at the awkward atmosphere as you continued to stare at him with those handsomely yet concerning half-lidded eyes of yours that practically had your eye bags engraved around it (like seriously. he understood why you'd stay up late to work overtime but please just take a break).

He hoped something, anything would come out of your mouth.

"You know," oh thank God.

"Never thought you'd be this cute. Thought you were cat fishing me or something." You said with a nonchalant tone. He sighed in relief. So you weren't disgusted, you were just observing his handsome face.

"Honestly, I'd probably kill myself right here, right now."

He choked on air.

did he hear you correctly?

"I beg your pardon—??" He breathed out, concern very evident in his tone and in his face. You simply blinked in response before realizing what you'd just said;

"Oh—sorry. I'm not in a good mental state right now. You're just really attractive and I currently don't want to live."

He could only deadpan at that information. He knew of your issues, how could he not? From your wrinkled business attire to that raccoon den that you call your apartment, it was hard not to notice. Still, he loves you for that... Still concerned though.

(based off an image in Pinterest that I don't have with me rn)

[muffypollz]

ASHEDUE THE KISS REDRAW I LOVE YAOI

[hozukitofu]

idk what's weirder for iruka: konohamaru becoming a jounin sensei or shino becoming an academy teacher and both of them are his colleagues now instead of former students. one is a reformed prankster carbon copy of naruto and one spoke maybe four words to him during the entire time he knew the kid. imagine running into them in the staff room. i would need to leave immediately.

they also refuse to call him without honorifics or if this is a modern AU - mr umino/sir/sensei. iruka tries so hard to make them comfortable and feeling like they're his colleagues, to no avail. they got as far as 'iruka-sensei' and then promptly faltered.

all the little students look up to iruka as a superhero. their teacher's teacher. none of that silliness where they don't respect him - his disappointed face is lethal

[mechazushi]

Kaiju Number 8 Incorrect Quotes <take 7>

Iharu: Truth or dare? Reno: Truth. Iharu: When was the last time you slept? Reno:... Reno: Dare. Iharu: GO TO BED. Reno: I don't like thIS GAME.

[allgreekbitch]

Jonmartin pre-relationship sickfic where Jon is sick but, as the workaholic that he is, doesn’t stop to take a breath or relax or get better so Martin takes care of him.

“Jon?”

“Martin?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know… was passing by and heard really bad coughing from in here. You also sound like crap.”

“Well, thank you, Martin.”

“I didn’t mean—your voice just sounds kind of hoarse.”

Only Jon doesn’t realise he’s being taken cared of because at first he dismissed every worry and rejected every help, so Martin did it subtly. He kept bringing him tea, and

“Oh, I just had some leftover soup.”

“You… You came to my flat just to bring me leftover soup?”

“Yep! And this eucalyptus oil, it helps with a stuffy nose.”

“Right…”

And then, despite hating recording statements, Martin offered to record a few days’ worth of statements so Jon could rest. And whether he liked it or not, Jon stayed at home and under a blanket until Martin showed up after work again and to check on him.

I mean the vision is as clear as day.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Anyone have ANY workaholics requests at all?? Please send them in my inbox I am FEINDING any character at all goes <3 smut fluff angst I’ll take it ALL I just needa write for these boys

[starry-briar]

Over the course of all the events Albedo has been in (and he’s been in a lot, compared to most characters), he’s gradually become more social. There’s a few reasons why this could be, including the Traveler’s influence, but one headcanon for it that only occurred to me last night is the creation of Cinnabar Spindle.

First, it’s important to remember that Albedo’s earlier lack of sociability was driven less by a general dislike of people and more by him having other priorities. For example, in “About Albedo: Socializing”, he says

Relationships are... quite troublesome. Once you establish a relation with someone, you must continue to maintain it; if you lose contact, you must reestablish the relation. This taxing cycle requires a lot of time... 

In his story quest, he also talks about living life efficiently, and how dispelling loneliness is not a required part of that, even though he also expresses that he enjoys company when possible.

In other words, he largely just dislikes the amount of time socializing requires.

And Albedo seems to be acutely aware of how he spends his time. From “Albedo’s Troubles”:

There's just never enough time, is there? Even when I remove the most troublesome matters from my schedule, I still can't find enough time for everything. 

It almost sounds like he’s running out of time, doesn’t it? Especially in conjunction with his infamous line about losing control.

But what if he found a way to buy himself more time?

Consider the description for Cinnabar Spindle:

A sword made from materials that do not belong in this world. The power within might even be able to withstand the corruption of a venom that could corrode a mighty dragon. 

So, it could be that, with Cinnabar Spindle at his side, Albedo is better able to withstand the corruption that Rhinedottir’s creations are prone to, for whatever reason. It may not completely purify him, but it does give him more leeway to do spend time on things other than researching what to do about the corruption.

[Continuation of this short thread on Twitter.]

[i-may-be-an-emu]

I have such a good idea for a Hank x Gareth fic only question is can I actually write it

[uses-for-fics]

Tactona 420

Anders Holmvik x Reader

Another Monday morning and another boring ass meeting. Alice had been droning on and on about numbers when she finally introduced the new product of the week. Apparently it had been some toy race car that would link with a headset. Just as she caught your interest, she had lost it. She had started up a new rant about some meeting she was going to attend. You really didn’t pay much attention to her squeaky voice. The only good thing that ever came out of these meetings was getting to spend some time with Anders. Not necessarily ‘with’ Anders but hey, getting to sit behind him as he made jokes with his buddies was close enough for you. His laugh was melodic, his hair always looked so soft and fluffy. Don’t even get started on his smile, it’s so perfect. You always got butterflies in your belly whenever he’d pass by your cubicle and gave you a friendly hello. Oh but how could you forget his hands. Sometimes you’d imagine what they could do, so big and yet so gentle. It’s like you could feel them on you right now. Or maybe it’s cause they were, you hadn’t realized you zoned out until you felt Anders poking your shoulder.

“Hey Y/n, you good? I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute now”. He smiled at you. God if you weren’t sitting down right now, your knees would’ve buckled. Adam butted in. “Yeah dude you should’ve seen your face! You were so spaced out! I was going to stick a pen in your mouth but Anders wouldn’t let me.” You turned to look at Adam as your smile fell. “Thank you Adam.” You said flatly.

“Yeahhhhh. So I actually wanted to ask you, were you thinking on joining the Tactona 420? Blake, Adam and I are making a group but hey wouldn’t hurt to have some friendly competition.”

You smiled back at Anders. “I would love to!”

“Sounds good!” He got up from his seat.

“But.” “But?” He stopped in his spot. You dropped your head. “I can’t, I promised Jillian Id fix her computer today. Apparently she ‘accidentally’ downloaded malware when she was downloading videos of ‘cute cats’, I don’t know why she just doesn’t say she was trying to illegally watch magic mike again, we’ve all seen her ogle face before.”

Adam laughed. “Yeah it’s the same one you make when you’re looking at Ders! Ooooo burn!” He lifted his hand to high five Blake but Blake just shook his head and dropped Adam’s hand down. “Nuh uh.”

Anders chuckled. “Thank you Adam.” He said sarcastically. “Why don’t you go with Blake and start modifying the car?” Adam stood up with Blake. “Oh hell yeah, it’s gonna beat the crap out of all of your guys' cars!” Adam yelled as Blake pushed him out of the meeting room. Anders rolled his eyes. “Well if you finish soon, it’d be great to have you there.” He smiled but quickly covered it up with a cough. “As a cheerleader obviously cause we’d soooo wreck your car up quickly,,,,dude.” He gave your shoulder a light punch.

You awkwardly laughed. “Ha ha. Yeah dude, I’ll so try to be there.” You gave him finger guns. “Guess I’ll see you later dude.” He started walking out of the meeting room backwards not breaking eye contact. You laughed as he gave you a wink and finger guns back. This man was going to be your demise. You decided you should start working on Jillian’s computer cause from all those shady pirating sites she has visited, you could only imagine how fucked it was going to be. A good two or three hours passed before your back had started to feel sore from sitting there for a while. You made calls all day for work but at least then you’d try to distract yourself by drawing at your desk or walking around your cubicle or staring at Anders. It’s not weird! It wasn’t your fault that your cubicle was right across from his and it definitely wasn’t your fault if your eyes occasionally would wander over there and would watch whatever dumb activity him and his friends were doing instead of work. You stretched your back until you felt a crack and stood up.

Maybe you could find something to snack on before having to get back to Jillian’s desk. You walked into the break room to find Adam smashing his toy car’s cover with a hammer and yelling. “I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING!!! Oh hey y/n.” He put down the hammer and toy car cover.

“Heyyy Adam. Um you ok buddy?” You stood by the entrance, not wanting to get closer to him.

“No I’m not ok. Blake killed his rat and Anders doesn’t want to join my team so now I have to mod my own car but I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING!!” You shifted on your feet weighing if you should help him or not. You were basically almost done with Jillian’s computer. Probably a half hour more and you’d be done but, this is Adam. He’s always so moody and he’s always joking about how you like Anders. He wasn’t wrong but you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction, or maybe you could. If you helped him maybe he could help you out. You smiled and walked closer to his car. “Maybe I could help.”

Adam’s head jerked up to look at you. “Are you serious?” You nodded. “For sure! I’m clearing Jillian’s computer right now. I know a thing or two about tech, all I need to do is mod your car into being faster than the rest.”

Adam jumped up. “Fuck yes!! Let’s start building right now so I can wipe Anders stupid smug smile with my dust.” You grabbed Adam by the collar before he could head out of the room. “Woah there! I didn’t even get to say what I get in return.” Adam shook his head. “Uhh doy dude, you get to spend time with me obviously! What else could you want?”

You rolled your eyes. “Gross. Actually, I wanted to see if you could setupadatewithAndersandI.”

Adam’s face twisted. “What?”

You groaned and looked down. “I wanted to see if you could set up a date with Anders and I.” Adam broke into laughter. You huffed. “Fine I won’t help you!” Adam grabbed your arm before you could walk away. “Dude I’m laughing cause that’s so easy. Have you not seen the way he acts around you? ‘Look at me I’m Anders! I can’t walk around y/n because she makes my legs shake! I’m so stupid and tall” Adam’s walked around mocking Anders.

You grabbed the stuff for his car. “Shut up that’s not true. Now let’s go fix up your car.” Adam continued mocking Anders all the way to your desk. You had been fixing up the car for a couple minutes now occasionally slapping Adam’s hand away before he could fuck something up. He’d finally gotten distracted by something. He gasped loudly making you jump in your seat. “Adam! What the fuck!” You turned to him noticing the book in his hands. He was looking through your sketchbook. “Adam! Give that back!” You tried to reach out for the book but he scooted back. “No way dude! You’re so down bad for Anders!!! I knew you liked him but there’s no way you actually have drawings of him!” “Adam that’s not funny. Please give it back.” You kept trying to reach for it but Adam kept scooting away from you. “They’re not half bad, maybe if you showed them to him he could overlook the whole stalker thing and ask you out.” You groaned. “I have no idea why I ever decided to help you! You’re such an idiot!” Adam stopped. “Hey! I may be an idiot but I am not stupid! At least I try to go for a date when I like a girl and I mean really try! You haven’t even tried to make a single attempt at asking out Anders the whole time that you’ve worked here. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me.” With that, Adam turned to walk out of your cubicle but bumped into the side wall.

You giggled. “Maybe you’re right Adam. I should try. How about we go win this race and after we’ve wiped Anders, I ask him out.” Adam smiled. “HELL YEAH! LETS KICK ASS!”

He ran out of the cubicle fist pumping. “I’m not done with the car yet!” You yelled but he was too far already. You turned back to the car, you had to fix this car like if your life depended on it.

You managed to finish fixing up the car not long after, finally arriving to where the races were being held. Adam turned to look at you. “Dude! Took you long enough! I’ve been waiting for you for hourssssss!!!”

“It hasn’t even been 30 minutes!” You yelled back as you walked to him.

Anders turned to face you from his spot next to Adam. “Hey! You made it Y/n!”

“Hey Ders.” You stand next to him and smile.

Anders face started to turn a bit red. “Ders? You’ve never called me Ders before.” Your smile fell. He quickly went to speak. “I like it! You make it sound nice.” You got bashful. “Ha thanks I guess. Just thought we’re close enough to use it.” You looked up at him. “There’s actually something I wanted to tell you.” You placed your hand on his hoodies zipper.

He looked down at you and gulped. “What’s up.” You smirked and then zipped up his hoodie. “After the race.” You winked and went to go stand next Adam.

You handed Adam the updated controller and started explaining the buttons. Just as you finished up explaining them, Jillian got into position to start up the new race. “Start your engines!” She put the flag up in the air. You handed Adam the headset. “Good luck.” You walked away and went off to the sidelines. Anders winked at you and put on his headset. You face heated up. At least he couldn’t see you right now. “Go!” Jillian yelled as she threw the flag down. Just as the race started, it ended. Blake had ran in a few laps left, Adam had blocked the tunnel causing a blockage on the track. Anders flipped his car making it a ramp so Blake could jump it and win. They all hugged and jumped together as they cheered.

After they had their little celebration, Anders stepped away and walked over to you. “Hey.” You looked at him. “Hey.” He bumped his shoulder with yours. “Soooo what did you want to talk about?”

You got bashful. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out sometime.” You turned away from him.

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah. Like on a date.” You started getting nervous. Maybe Adam had been punking you this whole time and wanted you to embarrass yourself. Before you could freak out more, Anders had answered.

“Sure.” Your eyes widen. “I’m so glad you asked actually, I’ve been so nervous to ask to be honest.”

“Really?” You smiled up at him. “Yeah I actually didn’t think you felt anything for me and just thought I was a boring ass coworker until I saw your drawings”Your face turned beet red. “Oh no.” You covered your face with your hands. “Oh no no no. You’re gonna think I’m a creep!”

He grabbed your wrists and moved your hands from your face. “No! Not at all. I was confused at first to be honest. I noticed you kept staring at me and jotting something down so when you left to the bathroom one day I scoped your cubicle and found your open sketchbook to a drawing of me. By the way I got to say you’re really good at catching my handsome face. I’d love to pose for you anytime.” He smirked.

You laughed. Your face could physically not get any redder. “Yeah, maybe you should. There’s actually this pretty cool art museum I like to visit.”

Anders beamed. “I love museums! There’s currently a Scandinavian exhibit I’ve been wanting to check out!”

You slapped his shoulder. “No way! I’ve heard of it! I’ve been wanting to check it out on my days off!”

Anders intertwined his hands with yours. “How about we go together?”

You inched closer to him. “I would definitely not say no to that.” Just as you guys inched closer, Adam yelled.

“I did that you guys! That was all me!” Blake grabbed Adam. “Dude shut up.” Blake pushed Adam to the elevator and everyone started heading out too. “Well.” Anders cleared his throat. “I guess we should head back to work.”

You let go of his hand. “I guess so.” You got on your tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “Last one there is a rotten egg.” You gave him a light shove and ran towards the elevator. He smiled and ran after you. “Just wait til I catch up to you!”

[agrazza]

Dalyria POV excerpt/drabble

So I have cut out a lot of exposition/backstory/being-stuck-in-Dalyria's head from ch. 40 of "On Darkness", but some of it is actually not too bad? It just doesn't fit the vibe of the chapter. And I think it stands alone well enough as an exploration of the sibling dynamics from the house-spawn's time with Cazador. Also, a few of you expressed interest in Dalyria POV. So anyway I've decided to post some of the material that (probably) isn't making it into the chapter below the cut. Warning for Cazador. Rated: Strong T Summary: Dalyria (now free in the Underdark) recalls what life was like under Cazador's thumb.

Losing a patient had gotten easier, after two centuries with Cazador. He cared so little for the living, after all.

Dalyria was fairly certain that in the time before being turned into a vampire, she had taken the loss of a patient very hard. Not particularly because it was sad, though it was, but because she’d seen it as a failure. Failing to heal someone, failing to solve the puzzle of an illness, failing to keep someone alive… It hadn’t even been a question of professional pride, exactly, though that had certainly played a part. Patriars only wanted the best, after all.

But it had been more of a matter of a personal pride. She was good at her work, and wanted to be better. It was nice, to have a good reputation, but she cared most about her own improvement, always striving to be better and know more than she had before.

She’d been so very prideful, back then. So full of herself. So eager to test the limits of what she could accomplish.

Cazador had twisted that desire up in her. He coaxed and commanded her to precision with her scalpels, punished her if she made undue mess, was exacting with exactly how much pain she was expected to give. Or to take. Her pride in her own work became a fear of her master; there was no predicting his most mercurial moods, and like the rest of them, she’d always been quick to obey. What was the point in doing otherwise, when he could simply force obedience with his magic if you didn’t comply quickly enough? It was easier, and less painful, to do it right the first time.

Sometimes, she was still surprised to find the compulsion gone. She would catch herself, about to do something, or not do something, solely based the small voice in the back of her mind that constantly reminded her of what Cazador’s opinion would be of her every move. And then she would remember, like a breath of fresh air that she didn’t deserve, that his opinions didn’t matter anymore. 

If she were brave enough, no one’s opinions mattered anymore, except her own.

It was different for her and the other house-spawn, after all. The rest of the spawn had been trapped, too, but theirs had been a prison of loneliness and silence; of piercing, aching, all-consuming hunger. One evening of terror and pain, and then a lifetime of drudgery and darkness. It was horrible, certainly, and Cazador’s children had all those curses as well, but they also had the ongoing torture, and the guilt— the indignity and humiliation of their bodies and minds being used for another’s whims. The spawn in the prison had to suffer the loss of their life once, for an age; the house-spawn suffered it again and again and again. 

She thought she might have preferred the dark, had she the choice. Of course, what had happened to the imprisoned spawn was horrible. Many of them had gone rightfully mad. Some were vicious, furious, and desperate. The hunger alone was enough to torment a person, and the unending imprisonment was a torture all on its own. But she’d seen some of them come out of it with bonds formed with their fellow prisoners. Cazador hadn’t had enough cells to separate all the spawn, and she knew that some— not all, but enough to make it a statistical trend— were still rooming with their fellow prisoners now in the keep they’d settled, even in freedom. The horror they had experienced together had broken some, but it had strengthened others. There was camaraderie, in shared pain.

The house-spawn had never had that luxury. They’d fought each other for every scrap of ‘affection’ Cazador would deign to dole out, hoping for just another drop of insect- or vermin-blood, never sated, never satisfied. And if it wasn’t the vicious hunger, it was the pain. Pleasing the master meant you might escape a flaying. Playing along with his games meant that you might have to wield the knife, but at least you wouldn’t be the one screaming that night. Informing on a sibling who was disobedient— in spirit, if not in practice, as it was near impossible to truly disobey the master— would mean a respite, maybe even a few mouthfuls of rancid blood or a night of safety from Cazador’s vicious and numreous hungers. Any house-spawn caught conspiring together, even on something as minor as sharing a hunt or finding brief enjoyment in something that hadn’t been explicitly allowed would be punished more than usual.

And Cazador had liked his punishments. Oh, he played at doting father, pretended to expect them to be obedient and dutiful, but he enjoyed the ‘discipline’ most of all. He made rules that were impossible to follow to the letter, had exacting, meticulous standards, exerted his compulsions in such a way that left them just enough room to  stumble, and he relished the opportunity to catch them failing him. The best way to avoid his wrath was to point out when another of his house-pets had fallen short of his expectations in a more egregious way.

And Cazador had particularly taken pleasure in disciplining his dearest ‘children’ in the name of improving them, of making them great. Dalyria had always been deeply, shamefully thankful that she’d never been Cazador’s favorite. Petras and Leon had always hoped that earning more favor would mean that, eventually, they might receive a blessing in the midst of cruelty. 

Petras had always been furiously jealous that Cazador sent Astarion and Violet to lavish parties, used the two of them to bribe patriars who liked a pretty face in their beds, dressed them in finer clothes than he gave the others. A cushier sort of prostitution than the scraps they all normally had to go begging for in the slums. 

Leon had always hoped for the few privileges that the Cazador’s whims would grant them; music lessons for Violet, books for Astarion, the days when he would suddenly play at doting father and give them a mockery of affection. They were all so desperate for anything other than suffering that even a bare scrap of generosity from the master was a shameful luxury. 

Sometimes, Dalyria had wanted to be jealous too, had hated whatever sibling currently had Cazador’s favor and wished she could believe his lies, just for a few moments. But Cazador was only generous when it suited his cruelty later. A gift never truly belonged to one of them; they were all for Cazador’s use. Cazador was a jealous, petty master, and the more he gave his precious pets away, the more he had to reassert his own sense of superiority when his jealousy reared its head. He pretended he was above it all, that such feelings had nothing to do with the necessary discipline to improve his wayward charges. 

But Dalyria had seen through him. She had listened to Astarion’s screams even when he performed perfectly, had watched Violet go mad as her flawless music filled the cold dead halls, and she knew Leon and Petras for fools. There was no satisfying the master, no blessing to found in that house. And there had been no friendship to be found with her so-called siblings, any of whom she would stab in the back without second thought to spare herself a few moments of agony.

The other spawn, the ones locked below in the dark, had never lain awake at night, listening to the only people who might have possibly understood her sob and scream with pain because she had handed them over to Cazador for the price of a dead rodent. They had never been asked to flay their cell-mates, or watch them be flayed, or to compete against their fellow prisoners for the prettiest prize for Cazador’s bed, or made to watch the master enact every cruelty of his vicious imagination on his favorite pet, only to know that it was their turn next. The other spawn had received the one real blessing Cazador had been capable of giving— his forgetting them. 

So yes, sometimes she was envious of them. Perhaps, she even hated them a little. It seemed fair enough; they certainly hated the house-spawn back, for the role they had played in their damnation.

[templegate]

Why ate you brainrotting me into a ship that dosen't doesn't exist nooooooooo

Imposter×izuru my beloved

YEAH. I AGREE. Here I'll talk more about it and drag you deeper into the hole

I feel like im despair Izuru hated the Imposter because they had become a perfect imitator. Any of their actual personality being suppressed for the sake of imitation. Like a sort of Ego Death. Izuru hated it because it was too reminiscent of himself. But after the NWP I think they begin to bond.

I mean this is all headcanon-

but I always saw Izuru as a pretty subservient being. I mean the Hope's Peak people probably wanted a good amount of control over him. So he's not really an active person. Needing someone to point him in whatever direction.

Contrasted with the Imposter who is naturally a leader. They care a whole lot about people because they're so good at reading people. And despite their feeling that they lack an identity, they still have aspects that shine through.

Izuru is supposed to be a new personality. A metamorphosis after Hajime Hinata had been completely erased. But Izuru cannot seem to form an identity. Think about it. He never really has anything he cares about, people he cares about, likes or dislikes. Even his constant stating that hes bored is just a statement of fact. Not really said with any malice

While the Imposter is supposed to be nothing. Supposed to be someone who can become anything. And despite it. They have so much personality. They care about people, have a pension for leadership, love food and love their body. This isn't a person with no personality.

So they both fucked up what they were supposed to do. A person meant to be a void cares, and the person meant to care is a void.

That might be a source of jealousy between the two. It might not. But they're kind of polar opposites. The Imposter's understanding of people leads to them caring more for them. Willing to sacrifice themselves to save someone who they knew was dangerous. While Izuru understands people on such a deep level that he finds them boring. Disliking most people he interacts with and being generally apathetic. Being perfectly willing to sacrifice people around him.

And I think after the NWP, The Imposter starts to come into their own, since constantly pretending to be someone else is terrible for your mental health. They're not used to it at all. They take up a leadership role and kind of have a workaholic duo with Hajime and Izuru. Maybe the imposter also has a better time dealing with the Despair version of themself. Since they already are pretty good at compartmentalizing their identity.

While Izuru- I've spoken before how I think the return of Hajime Hinata to his headspace causes Izuru to like... Be able to be someone. Since the parts of his brain that were suppressed to destroy Hajime are reactivated- suddenly Izuru is like... Capable of feeling and caring for people, and having opinions and a personality. And i see them as a system too. So now Izuru is feeling all these things- is super overwhelmed and can't interpret any of them. And his headmate is there too and his emotions are even stronger.

And i imagine that Izuru has only one person who can possibly understand what it's like- The Imposter. So they have weird conversations with 12 layers of context and subterfuge. And then maybe they kiss as well.

It's literally because they are such great foils to eachother too. Like i wish it was brought up in canon cause they're sooooo similar and yet so different.

[djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains]

Yknow while ive written james sick/sleep deprived fics like twice already i think i just reallh like putting the character in the situation

Anyway ive been rotating a fic where gordon and edward are sifferent but equal amount of ill/injured and are getting progressively angrier at the other that they wont call in sick

[doodlinge]

this is for a fic and i need ANSWERS

if u say casual clothes, what would his general go to outfit be

[aestheticaltcow]

Fan fiction is something I hold so near and dear to my heart.

Growing up, I didn't have a lot of friends; granted, I still don't have a lot of friends, but that's a story for a different post. Reading and writing fan fiction became a way to connect with people, even if they weren't real or knew I existed.

Last year, I deleted all of my social media due to some mental health issues, and unfortunately, that included my old account on here that had probably 4 years' worth of stuff I'd written.

While much of that stuff was poorly written dribble, I was reflecting on what fan fiction means to me. It's my form of escapism. No matter how depressed I am, how stressed I am, or how anxious I am, with fan fiction, I have a place where I can disassociate for lack of better terms. A place I can go to and just forget about what's bothering me.

The OCs I'd write were a safe space to express my creativity and process feelings I didn't know how to process as myself. It was my original form of therapy.

Now, at the big age of 25, fan fiction still means just as much to me as it did 12 years ago when I hit publish on my first Twilight fan fiction.

This is a very long-winded way of saying I'm back on my fan-fiction shit. I've been writing outlines for the past 6-7 months and I want to start posting it on here again.

I don't know how to end this post so I just want to give a thank you to the people who've been writing fan fiction on here, it's the only thing keeping me sane while I've been in graduate school.