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#x vs. a part
starspilli · 9 months
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but with everybody watching us, our every move
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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months
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Passion for Fashion Part 2
Danny glances around the room, initially supposed to be the living room, but Dan had quickly turned it into a studio. He had fabrics stacked everywhere, random clothes designs pinned to the walls, and various-sized mannequins scattered about with half-finished projects.
"It looks like Joann Craft's store exploded in here" he grumbles side-stepping into a half-finished gown dress and ducking under rows of fabric swatches that Dan just has to hang across the whole house by color because they help him visualize.
Or some nonsense like that.
Frankly, Danny was starting to suspect Dan had developed a new ghost Obsession now that grief no longer blinded him, and he knew Clockwork made it deliberately fashion design.
He is a bit unsettled that Dan's tunnel vision mirrors his parent's obsession with ghost hunting. Is it a ghost Obsession thing or a Fenton thing? Even Jazz can't get sucked into her physiology studies, so he had to remind her to sleep and eat. Eventually, Danny will find his own tunnel vision obsession. He just knows it.
Ducking two more times to avoid the shades of blue and green, Danny follows the barely visible pathway to where Dan is likely working on the first suit for the competition's first catwalk.
The first round of the competition was a mere selection round, where contestants were all brought into a large room and given a sketchbook, pencils, colors pencils, and reference books. After the surprise judge gave them the theme of household pets, they were to design two male and female outfits within an hour. Dan had entered the testing room like a man sent to the front lines.
Danny hadn't been needed for that round, so he explored Gotham, stopping to eat the famous Batburger. The food was far tastier than Nasty Burger, and he felt like he was betraying his city by how much he savored the Joker fries.
He did notice the way everyone was staring at him, much to his shame, just as he was licking his fingers clean. He scrambled to leave as a few teens whispered, gesturing to him.
He had been in Casper High to know that usually meant insults, so when a pretty blond girl stood up and started for him, he made haste to get out of there as quickly as possible.
He met up with Dan- with a carryout bag because he wasn't a monster- and found the other had blown the competition out of the water. His designs were first in the selection round, and Dan's head got three sizes bigger that day.
It's strange how used to living here he's gotten. It's been a month and a half, and yes, people still stare at him a lot, but it's not like Danny isn't used to being called a freak, so he ignores them all. Dan tried to stay inside the house as much as possible, rarely leaving his fabrics, but Danny felt restless being indoors all the time.
Amity Park is a small city, with most of it being open space and grass he felt strange being surrounded by a loud, crowded city like Gotham. He often wandered about trying to find something new and fun, though that was hard to do once the sun started setting.
He found being outside at night was a terrible idea the first time a trio of men attempted to shove him into a van.
Thankfully, Danny had been bored enough he recreated some of his parents' gadgets, and the three men had been stunned by his Fenton Tazzer wristband before they had opened the van door. Then there was that time a group of toddlers tried to mug him. He had been trying to find a park or something when seven kids- couldn't be older than twelve- all creeped out of the shadows holding knives and bats and demanded he gave them his wallet.
Danny hadn't meant to, but it was so bizarre he had bursted out laughing. He was so used to ghosts that the sight of little kids trying to be threatening was so historical that he couldn't stop laughing. He also forgot to breathe for a second since coming to this world. His body needed less sleep, less food, and got less tired, which was a plus on their wallets.
Danny laughed so hard he fell to his knees, shaking with jest.
The kids scattered at once, a few shouting, "Joker venom!" he was left chuckling to himself. After that, he got up and went home, the occasional snicker slipping from his lips.
Dan had thought it was hilarious, too.
Despite the time they have been here and Danny's many outings, they haven't really interacted with anyone else. Danny had never been one to have positive memories with socializing, and Dan frankly disliked humans too much to want to be around them.
With nothing to do but wander during the day and practice his model walk, Danny quickly got into the habit of tinkering with various machinery. At first, he needed to rebuild his parent's weapons and ghost gear- something he had been able to do since he was seven- then he shifted to building whatever popped into his head.
From robotic prosthetics to a TV projector, Danny filled the hours with some eclectic in his hands. Otherwise, he looked around Gotham and took pictures of the architect because it was Sam's entire aesthetic. How could he not try to capture this place for her?
Dan had been researching through the house internet- thank the ancients the house came with the service- and found various styles he liked experimenting with. Due to his ghost abilities, he worked faster than the sewing machines and was dishing out whole outfits in matters of days instead of the months they usually take.
He has even been walking around in whatever Dan chose to make for him since he thought it would get him used to being seen in something not his usual style. He can't afford to lose the fashion show simply because he got awkward. That would ruin his plans to help Batman and get home.
His wardrobe now varied from what Dan called "eboy", "skater" "K-pop" "casual chic" "haute" and "streetwear". Personally, Danny preferred the streetwear since it was more often than not baggy.
He had a lot of people staring at him when he walked around in Dan's clothes. Danny hopes he doesn't look as dumb as he feels.
"Danny, come try this on!" Dan shouts, snapping Danny out of his thoughts. He gestured to a black and navy blue three-piece suit that took Danny's breath away.
"Wow, Dan, it's gorgeous."
"Duh, I made it brat." He gestures to the vest, which Danny can see painfully embroidered swirls of black, purple, and a few white strips. It did not take him long to recognize the Magellanic cloud resting on the right side while the left is a mirror design in black, carefully blending into the blue. The pants, jacket, and shoes were a nearly jet-black cloth that somehow looked like a liquid even when standing still, but what tied it all together was the black cape draping over the right shoulder. It was pinned in place by a metal piece shaped like a Sirius Star. "The first round is space theme, and lucky for us, I was obsessed with NASA as a kid."
"No, but honestly, can I keep this afterward?" Danny asks, reaching out to rub his hands on the fabric. "Wow this is soft"
"It's satin, of course; it's soft," Dan snorts. "And sure, if we win, it's yours. I don't care what happens to the clothes after I make them."
"How long did this take you to make?" Danny asks, turning it around and sporting more accurately placed constellations of the satellite galaxy. It was like a picture made of fabric, curling from the right to the back of the vest. He'll have to take the jacket off at some point to show that part off.
"Three days. Without sleep."
"That's insane Dan"
"No, you know what's insane? This place has different beauty standards. It's all about the goth and emo kids here. A few Victorian lads, too. Or frankly, a straight-up twink is hot."
"What?" Danny's brain buffers "That can't be right. I was bullied and so were my friends for looking like that."
"Trust me, the ideal body kept coming up as I researched fashion trends and ideas. Nerds are in here. "
"W-what do I do with knowledge?"
Dan's eyes flashed a dangerous green. "You put it to use on the walkway. This suit is designed to show you off, and the best part? It's your natural body; no need to highlight beefed-up muscles or a wide chest like Dash."
"Oh my ancients....Am I hotter than Dash? Then the top A-lister?"
Dan grins. "We got this competition in the bag."
Across Gotham, Tim is scrolling through GothamLive- the favorite plate form of all Gotham, beating even Twitter- and he's surprised to see it covered by the target of their latest mission. He's back at the cave running coms since he got dosed in fear toxin on the last big fight. It was not too bad but Bruce didn't want him doing anything too adrenaline-inducing for a least a month.
He would argue, but even he knew his hands still sometimes shook when he trained. So he was on comm duty listening in to all his family as they moved about Gotham.
It was a quiet night with only three muggings and one car thief so far, but Bruce wanted everyone connected just in case.
Tim figured he could check in on the meta twins and found Danny everywhere on Gotham's online platform.
People have been spotting him strut around Gotham looking drop-dead gorgeous, and everyone near their age group who was attracted to men was losing their minds over Danny Fenton.
Tim found a few of him in skater clothes and felt his face get slightly warmer. Okay, they are right. Danny certainly paints a pretty picture, but that's worrying.
A pretty meta? He could be snatched up by the worst of Gotham soon.
Tim will have to get close to keep an eye on him. You know, for the target's safety.
Dan is his identical twin, which means there are two beautiful boys out there. Tim thinks, checking over the twin's house location. It's thankfully on the outskirts of Gotham, where it's not exactly safe, but it sure as hell isn't Crime Alley. They should be okay as long as no one finds their home.
He choked on his coffee when a picture of Danny dressed like a K-pop star casually lodging on a chair drinking a coffee appears on his dash. Yeah, he can see how the guy ended up in modeling if he could make poses like that naturally.
"Red Robbin to everyone, we may want to keep an eye on the Fenton's. Don't want them taken by traffickers."
"Danny Fenton already fought off a kidnapping:" Jason responds in seconds with a slight sneer. His elder brother has always hated traffickers and rapists the most. " Some idiots tried to escape me by going into the Outskirts and saw Danny. They took their chance only to be taken out by the guy's tazer disguised as a bracelet."
He sends the family a photo of the incident, and Danny's unimpressed look at the three screaming men makes Tim's lips twitch. Maybe Gotham wasn't so different from Santa Prisca. Only someone used to danger so often found would be kidnapers annoying, and that island wasn't exactly the safest place to be.
Their mother died to get them out, after all.
"That's not all. He's also fought off three different gangs, none of the big players but enough to raise some brows," Babs adds, displaying a gang of Crime Alley kids running from a laughing Danny, a group of men and women wearing the red scorpion marks running from a laughing Danny and a second group of kids- slightly older but not older than Danny- all backing away from the ice Danny had encased himself in. "The first two he tricked into thinking Joker was about, and the last one he just froze himself until they got tired of shooting and went away."
"What about the other one?" Bruce asks.
"He doesn't leave the house, but he's been very active online. Mostly, he's looking up fashion articles or trends. Recently, his search is nothing but "What are twinks, and why are they hot?". I can't tell if that's a culture difference or if Dan is just weird."
"They are not trained," Damian says, an undertone of curiosity in his voice. "But they can defend themselves well and truly know their craft. Dan's designs for my animal theme challenge were exquisite. I will be commissioning the black German Shepherd suit he made. Ace and I will look divine at the next gala."
"I kind of want the bird dress," Steph cuts in with a chirp. "I know it's not purple, but it looked cool in concept. What bird breed did he pick for it?"
"It was the Lovebird," Damian answers. "Somehow his design was both elegant and accurate without seemingly childish as the bird it was based on."
Tim wonders if Damian may start to develop an interest in fashion or if he just appreciates drawings as an artist. "So should we be worried?"
"No. Fenton has unwillingly gathered too much attention online. People will notice if he disappears. Traffickers don't go for people that are easy to recognize." Jason sighs. "For now, they're safe, but not if Danny keeps wandering around like an easy target in those tailor outfits. He looks rich, even if it's only lower first class. That will attract a lot more muggings."
"Someone will have to get close to them-"
"I can do it!" Tim shouts, cutting off Bruce, then shrinks into his chair in mortification as the family chat dies. Trying to sound less eager, he hastily adds, "You know, since I'm benched. Light work to befriend the Fentons."
"Smooth Tim." Cass laughs over the coms with his other siblings snickering in the background, and sinks into his chair.
After a moment, Bruce sighs, "Alright, Tim, you can befriend one of them, but not until your turn to judge goes by. I don't want people claiming a conflict of interest there."
Hell yeah! Tim got the job!
"Of course, Bruce."
"And no flirting."
"Spoilsport"
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elliespuns · 3 months
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What do you mean this cookie killed half of Seattle
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dilatorywriting · 1 year
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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff
Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)
ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]
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‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’
Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.
“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.
People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.
“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”
You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.
“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”
Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.  
You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.  
“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”
You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.
.
.
That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.
Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.
“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.
“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.
You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.
“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”
You blinked, startled. “What?”
“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”
Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.
“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”
Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.
“Oh come on, he did not.”
“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.
“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”
“I beg your pardon.”
You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—
“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.
“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—
‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.
“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”
Ouch.
“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”
‘I’ll just go then.’
But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.
It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.
.
.
“My goodness, are you alright?”
You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?
Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.
“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”
Do you know how to get home?
You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.
“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”
You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.
“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.
You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.
“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”
So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.  
“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”
You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.
“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”
You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”
Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.
“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”
You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.
‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.
Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.
You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.
“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”
.
.
.
Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.
He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?
And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.
But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.
He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.
This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—
He looked back at the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick—
His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.
“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”
“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”
Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.
‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’
“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”
The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.  
“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.
Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.
“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”
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.
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alastor-simp · 11 days
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Why? - Alastor X Powerful Fem Overlord Reader Part 1
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❥Summary:The war with the Heaven was about to begin. The residents of the hotel plus the cannibal colony were ready. Alastor was at the ready, microphone stand in hand, as his eyes targeted his next prey, Adam.
❥Tags: Powerful overlord, Alastor vs Adam, Hazbin Hotel episode 8, spoilers, The Show Must Go On, Grim Reaper Demon, Death Demon, Adam is an a✪✪hole, Hell vs Heaven, Alastor fights adam. Reader is dark and mysterious, Hazbin Hotel Extermination.
❥Notes: This series is probably going to be 2 or 3 parts. I will decide later on. This is also going to my take on how episode 8 was, so don't be confused if some parts are different. Enjoy:)
*Character Background*
Y/N or Overlord name "Raven" is a grim reaper demon, and the only one that existed in Hell. She was human when she lived and worked in a morgue, until she was murdered heading back from work. Her body is shrouded in darkness, resembling a cloak. Her face resembles a skull, yet she still maintains her feminine appearance from when she was alive. She appears very dark and mysterious, but she is a kind soul and only acts when provoked. Her powers extend to necromancy, darkness manipulation, telekinesis, soul manipulation, and immortality. Similar to a grim reaper, her weapon is a large scythe. Her reasons for coming to the hotel were still unknown, but it appears she believes in redemption, as through her time in hell, she is aware some demons have arrived in hell for reasons that don't qualify as sins, so she remains at the hotel and provides support. Everyone at the hotel was unsure about her, but they soon consider her part of the hotel as time went by, including a certain deer demon.
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(Found on Pinterest, credit to original artists)
**The Night before the extermination day- Alastors POV**
Alastor is walking, hands folded behind his back as he moves across the hotel's mezzanine. His crimson eyes gaze down on the other inhabitants of the hotel. Charlie and the others are all chatting amongst themselves, laughing and cheering for whats to come tomorrow. "Ah, the celebratory night before a courageous last stand. It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Almost makes one sentimental, eh, Niffty?" Alastor smiles widely, before his eyes turn to Niffty, who is sitting next to him, smiling sweetly. "I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!" Alastor chuckles at that answer, before leaning against the bar of the mezzanine. "Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed." Alastor hated to admit it, but he enjoyed everyone's company in the hotel. True, he did clash with some of them, specifically Vaggie, but he slowly grew attached to them, though he prefers that to be kept a secret. A small object was then placed on his head, causing him to look up a bit. Niffty had placed a roach flower crown on his head, smiling while dubbing him "King Roach." Alastor leaned back, laughing at Niffty's antics. "Oh, to understand your twisted little mind! Both him and Niffty then started to maniacally laugh together, and then slowly calming down. Niffty then jumped off and zipped closer to the others, to join in the celebration, leaving Alastor alone.
**Your POV**
"Not going to join them, Alastor?" a soft voice spoke behind Alastor, causing him to turn around. You were standing behind him, clock shrouding your body, but leaving your face to be seen. Your skull like face was drew into a soft smile. "Sadly not, my dear! I fear my presence would dampen the mood!" He saw you give a small chuckle, before walking next to him, copying his position of him leaning against the bar. "You sure about that? You are part of this group, Alastor. Besides, you always try to be the life of the party for things like this." Alastor laughed outloud, before leaning against the bar as well. "Aww, trying to flatter me, my dear?" Alastor leaned a hand on his cheek, smirking at you. You just smiled back at him, stating you were just speaking the truth, before turning your head down to gaze at the others. Alastor copied you, the both of you standing next to each other in silence. Alastor then turned to look at you, eyes widen a bit to see you wearing a melancholic expression. "Something troubling you, my dear?" One of his hands, placed itself on your shoulder, giving you a sense of comfort. "Sigh...I'm just worried for tomorrow. Yes, the angels can be hurt and killed, but I'm still worried. Not only that, Adam possesses strong angelic power, and I know he is bound to be highly troublesome during the fight." Alastor threw his head back in laughter, "There is no need to fret, my dear. I will personally fight that poor excuse for an angel myself." Alastors powers surged for a bit, thinking of how exciting it would be to sink his claws and teeth into Adam. Turning your head, you gave a worried look. "Will you be okay?"
Alastor turned his head back towards you, raising an eyebrow. He noticed the gentle expression you wore, and he gave you a soft smile back. He had gotten close with you after a few weeks of you being in the hotel. He knew the power you possessed, but you never flaunted it or used it for personal gain. The more he spent with you, is when he got to see that behind that cloak and darkness was a soft kind soul. "I will be fine, my dear! I am the radio demon, as you know. No pathetic little angel is going to get the better of me, I assure you." He gave a kind smile, without his teeth showing. You still wore a worried expression before giving a smile back. You extended your hand out to Alastor, causing him to tilt his head at you in confusion. "Gimme your hand." Alastor hesitated a bit, and extended his hand out, appearing as if he was trying to give a handshake. You chuckled and grab his hand, interweaving your fingers together. This caused Alastor to tense a bit, seemingly not use to stuff like this. "I know how strong you are Alastor. But, if worse comes to worst, I will be there to help you. I promise." Alastor felt a tightness in his chest after you said that, he couldn't quite figure out why. He was going to say something again, but you had blended with your shadow and disappeared, leaving him alone.
**Day of the Extermination- Alastor POV**
The fight between Heaven and Hell was about to commence. Everyone was gathered around the entrance of the hotel, wearing battle gear and holding weapons. A portal soon opened up in the sky, with Exorcists flying out of them, including Adam and Lute. Charlie and the other released a war-cry and began to battle the Angels. Alastor was standing on the roof of the hotel, smiling wickedly. "Let the slaughter begin. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Using his microphone, a large force field began to form around the hotel, providing protection for everyone, and preventing the angels from getting through. It was very effective in halting the angels advances as well as providing damage as the shield was able to sprout tentacles and kill some Exorcists. This, did not last long, as Adam as able to destroy the force field, allowing the hotel to be exposed once again.
Alastor glared at the Adam, as he saw him make his descent to the roof of the hotel and landing on it. "Adam! First man, next to die." Alastor continued to look on at Adam in front of him, looking unimpressed. Adam then asked who the fu✪✪ Alastor was. "Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure. I'm about to end your fucking life." His microphone cane hit the ground, causing black tendrils to arise. Adam just snarked at Alastor: "Nice voice. Don't you know jazz is for PUSSIES!" Adam summons his guitar, and slashes away at the tentacles before approaching Alastor. Alastor stepped back, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah!" Alastor was able to dodge Adams attacks, sending some of his tentacles at him. "You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edge-lord." Adam yells back at Alastor. "You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate." Extending out his shadow, it formed a crack in the hotel roof, allowing one of Alastor's shadow monsters to punch him. Adam was now getting pissed off as he killed the shadow monster, with Alastor mocking his strength.
Adam kept swinging his guitar, with Alastor dodging them effectively. "You lack discipline, control, and worst-
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His demon form had manifested, sending his shadow monsters to attack Adam and crawl all over him. Adam was sent flying upwards, as he stuttered on trying to insult Alastor back, making Alastor to laugh and swing him into the hotel sign with his tentacle "Ha ha ha! Poetry!" Adam was furious that he was getting bested by Alastor, swinging his guitar, causing a shockwave and yelling out, "I'm going to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, CAUSE RADIO IS F✪✪✪ING DEAD!" Alastor looked around, surprised he was out of his demon form: "What just happened?" He then saw his microphone snapped in two, "Fuck!" Alastor then looked back up, then was sent flying back. Adam had managed to get closer, and swing his weapon at him, causing a large wound to form on Alastor's chest. Alastor was on his hands and knees, trying to get up, but failing to do so. Adam was much stronger then he realized. He needed to get out of there now, before Adam had the chance to hit him again. A heavy kick landed on his stomach, causing him to go flying back, and cough up some blood. Alastor leaned back, grasping on his chest to stop the wound, while staring at Adam with pure hatred in his eyes. "HAHAHA! Not so tough now, huh bit✪✪? Time to die!" Adam raised his guitar again ready to strike at Alastor again. Alastor was trying to manifest his powers to teleport, but he was far too weak! He shut his eyes, bracing for the impact. A loud CLANG was heard, causing Alastor to open his eyes, shocked to see you standing in front of him. Your large scythe was drawn, having swung against Adam's guitar, stopping the attack. "Get away from him!"
*TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2**
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dont-let-me-eat-pears · 9 months
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The Maze Runner | The Death Cure
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nelkcats · 11 months
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Garden of Souls
There are people who, when they die, do not really want anything else. No reincarnations or second chances. People who did not wish to stay longer than necessary.
When they die, the universe usually grants their wish. And a flower is born in the Ghost King garden. Pariah Dark never paid attention to all the flowers (each one unique in its own way), and left them to die. Although many of them prevailed, a lot of souls were lost.
Danny was different. He loved and cared for each of the flowers. His own sister had become one of them after all. Every day the King went out to the garden and closed his eyes, listening to Jazz's voice speak to him, he watered the flowers and smiled. Danny knew that his sister was no longer in the Realms, that she was resting, but her memories were imprinted on the flower, and her soul had become something beautiful. It was nice to talk to what was left of her.
That is why when John Constantine dared to step on one of the flowers in his garden the King was enraged. The Justice League had reached the Infinite Realms, investigating about it; What at first was a casual conversation turned into a fight as the heroes became fascinated with his garden, one of them daring to pluck one of his beloved flowers while Constantine unceremoniously stepped on another.
Although they had just discovered the dimension, Danny didn't plan to receive them again for a long time. No more help or peace deals, no one messed with his garden, the poor souls must have been terrified.
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maesaeart · 7 months
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U-Uhm!... Can't we talk about this??... I-I don't think I can handle... two of you at once!!! \(๑•́o•̀๑)/
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This is Part 4!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 (SMUT)
thanks again for 100 follows on twt and 50 here! (⁀ᗢ⁀)/ I know its taking a bit to finish but we're at the home stretch baby!!
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elliesjournals · 3 months
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EllieDina Week Day 6: Faith
Faith lost / Faith rekindled
Dina has lost faith in Ellie returning, leaving the farm with only the tiniest flicker of hope. Like a candle in a window, she leaves Shaken by a Low Sound, an album that binds them, that weaves through shared moments, on top of Ellie’s guitar. Maybe this will help guide her back to her family.
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invinciblerodent · 6 months
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I love Gale's "With you, I forget my goddess" as much as the next person, but my favorite line in this whole scene is the one that breaks my heart into one million tiny little pieces, and that's "You would really prefer me as I am?"
The disbelief in his voice. That pained desperation to make you understand what he's trying to say. He can't believe that you'd really prefer him, the him that he is, with his... mortality, moral failings, jealousy, occasional arrogance, all his limitations and flaws? And you would. You DO. You'll say it as many times as it takes.
And yet, despite being explicitly told that you think him perfectly deserving of you and all that your relationship is, that he is enough and that you love the man he is rather than the power he commands, Gale... really just can't seem to believe it. Throughout the entire romance (so far, I honestly don't know), he' really can't seem to believe his luck. He's just so hung up on this feeling of being undeserving of happiness, of forgiveness, acceptance, and of love.
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JUST LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!!
LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!
That fondness! Devotion! Doubt! Anxiety and relief all in one! He's been knocked speechless, he looks like he's exactly one second from crying, and all he's been told is literally just that you don't need him to be a god, he can just be himself, because you, his lover (of several weeks, maybe even months at this point) already loves him! As he has been told already!!!!!!
God, I can't get over just how much this man cares about this... weird, arbitrary notion he has in his pretty skull that a person is capable of being somehow more, or less deserving of being loved, rather than simply having inherent value.
Or, actually, I just can't get over this man, period.
I may not be entirely sober tonight, but I'm feeling all of the feelings about this goddamn handsome bunch of emotional issues pixels.
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blueteller · 6 months
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TCF Breaking News:
God of Hope is a Cale x Slacker-chan Shipper!
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corallapis · 7 months
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the important thing to remember about the "five watching the master burn to death on sarn" situation is that the last time they saw each other was in 'the king's demons' where the master deliberately engineered a situation where the doctor would have to beg for the master's life & then show just how much (little) those words meant by being made to choose an innocent's life over the master's. the master screams as he's being forced into the iron maiden. the doctor can't watch, doesn't even turn his head, squeezes his eyes shut. when it dematerializes, the doctor looks to whatever the gallifreyan equivalent of the heavens is in relief/exasperation. the master laughs to himself in delight inside his tardis. the doctor looks just a little unwillingly fond as tegan asks "what's the master up to?"
so when we get to 'planet of fire', with the master cajoling, threatening, begging, "won't you show mercy to your own—?" it's a boy who cried wolf situation. is he condemning the master to death in that moment? is he letting him burn under the assumption that it is a trick? the hope that it is? clara doesn't tell him "if you have ever let this creature live, everything that happened today is on you" until lifetimes later, but you know that same refrain is running through his head. he can't, in good conscience, save the master — the man who killed his fourth self, who killed nyssa's father & now walks around in his corpse, who destroyed nyssa's entire planet & people & a whole entire third of the universe, who abducted adric & tortured him. i think five looks determined as he watches the master burn but also, briefly, devastated. he walks towards the flames after the master disappears... hoping for what? the sound of the master's tardis again? his laughter? but the doctor has to turn and walk back to his tardis in silence.
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A Fire Which You Can't Put Out (1/?)
Warnings: NSFW, mentions of blood, roughhousing turns into gentle meaningful sex, non-conish, Yautja in heat, angst, this post is an emotional trainwreck, Mating season isn't as easy as it sounds, may not be canonically accurate
Pairing: Yautja x gender neutral! reader
_______________________________
"Love" you called out, standing waiting outside their door. "Please, let me in."
There was quiet as your pleas were ignored once again. They didn't usually act this way.
Usually, they left their door unlocked so you could get in whenever you wanted. They knew how much you liked their giant bed, how you loved to go over the rough textures of their trophies with your hand and arrange them by size and species. So your worry was understandable when they locked themself up, not responding to any of your calls, no matter how desperate they got.
You shook your head. They hadn't even told you when they'd come home.
In fact, you only noticed once you'd made food for the two of you and went to bring theirs into their room and the door wouldn't open. You'd heard a whimper then. Painful, like a wounded animal, and not at all like your mate. And yet the low growl that followed seconds after told you that it was.
You'd tried prying their door open, guessing the access code, tried convincing them to come out on their own with sweet promises of love and comfort, but nothing worked. They simply stayed quiet. And your worry grew.
Defeated, you finally backed away from their door after the tenth attempt to get them to answer. Perhaps they simply needed some alone time. You sighed.
"It's late, I should go to bed now. If...if there's any way I can help you, please... let me know." you waited a few seconds, hoping for any indication that they had heard you, or that they were still alive, anything. But as none came, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned around "...I love you."
And after you left, the ship went quiet once again.
You had begun going about your business as usual, cleaning and showering and making yourself dinner. And with each task the strings of your heart tried pulling you to their room again, your brain yelling at you- just to check up on them. Just to see if they need me now. Just for a second.
But you tried to forget your pain and went to bed without them in your arms, almost letting a tear escape your eye as you put the blanket over you. Usually, you never had to use it. Their body was so warm that it was almost completely decorative. But now, you were so so cold.
You put it over your body completely, curling up fetal position and tried to even your breath. Maybe you'd wake up and see that they had joined you while you slept. The thought brought a little peace to your aching heart, and you closed your eyes. But the second you entered a dreaming state, you suddenly heard a loud crash.
Eyes still closed, you almost fell as you instinctively bolted out of bed. You felt your way around, moving along the familiar walls until you reached the hall your mate's room was located in.
And as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw that it wasn't so dark after all. The light in their room was on and, most importantly, their door was open.
Without thinking, you ran towards it, almost tripping over something in the dark, but catching yourself before you hit the ground. You looked behind you in confusion. There should be nothing in this hall for you to trip over, so why?
But as a hand weakly grabbed at your ankle, realization hit you, and you instantly turned around to embrace the towering body that was laying on the floor.
"thank God, you're here!" you let your body drop on theirs and threw your arms around their neck. "Why are you on the ground? Are you alright? Do you need something, anything? Did you hurt yourself?"
But your worried babbling got cut off by the sudden sound of whining. Their voice distorted and shaking as they kept reverting to their own language, moaning a mixture of "please" and "can't wait"
It was such a strange sound, you almost couldn't believe it was coming from your mate. But as they continued and you could feel the vibrating of their chest below you, there was no way to deny it. You leaned back to get a better look and what you saw disturbed you deeply.
Their eyes, they were fixated on you completely. And they were oh so very.... desperate. Like they were asking for something, something only you could give them. Almost like a puppy, but way less innocent.
Like they were in pain, but as you trailed your hands gently over their body, you couldn't find a single scratch on them. You furrowed your brows as you felt them shiver against your fingertips.
Their chest heaved shakily against your body and their breath formed a slight fog in the air. It made you realize just how cold it was here. Had they lowered the temperature? But Yautja disliked the cold, didn't they?
You felt along their neck to discover their body didn't seem phased by the cold at all, instead it was practically burning. They leaned into your touch, purring louder than you knew they were capable of.
Their hips slowly but roughly grinded up against yours and you put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from reacting. Something was very wrong here. You tried to push yourself up from their lap, wanting to search up on this behavior, try to find a way to help them, but they dug their fingernails into the flesh of your thighs to keep you in place, not flinching when you hissed in pain.
"y-you're hurting me" you breathed out, but they held you tighter, blood forming at your new wounds. "Let me go, you're hurting me!" you yelled now, only stopping as you got cut off by their own plea for release.
"you're - you're hurting me" they croaked weakly, imitating you before letting their hands drop from your body and to the ground with a loud thud.
You shuffled away from them to run your fingers over your legs and the sensitive wounds that were now coloring your pants a deep red. They...had never hurt you before. You looked up to find not regret or fear in their eyes but determination.
Like suddenly you were prey, bound and gagged in front of a predator ten times your strength, with no means to fight or escape. Like your fate was already sealed. And with a poorly repressed whimper, you became eerily aware of the small skulls decorating their hips.
You're going to join them soon the voice in your head commented drily this is what you get for mating a monster
You almost slapped yourself as soon as the thought entered your mind. They weren't a monster, you knew this better than anyone. You had braided flowers into their dreadlocks not too long ago, watched them try to make a flower crown with their big hands and being impossibly proud when they finished making one- you'd seen them weep over their fallen comrades, saw them swell with pride at their brother's younglings.
But as their hands shot forward, gentle hands now nothing but big razor sharp claws to you, and they took hold of your arms before you could even realize what was happening, it became harder and harder to convince yourself. And the cold of the ship's floor pressed against your back as they towered above you was making you all the more aware of your situation.
It was quiet for a few seconds. But not the kind of quiet you had come to find comfort in, the kind of quiet the dark emptiness of space offered, the eternal peace that the stars brought with them- but the quiet in which you were being suffocated by your own breathing. By your heartbeat. By the sweat running down your temple and mixing together with your tears on the ground.
It was a sort of tension you had only known of a battlefield, right before someone strikes. The few seconds between life and death, the moment history is written, the moment fate picks up her golden feather. And the more seconds passed, the surer you were that you needed to act if you were to survive this.
Consciously shoving your fear together with your common sense into the back of your mind and allowing instict to take complete hold of you, you lurched forward. Your canines were meant for tearing meat, but you'd always fancied yourself a vegan. Still, the green seeping from your mouth made sure you'd never forget your true nature.
It was a moment of complete loss of self. Followed quickly by deep, frantic fear. Of them, of yourself, of the taste on your tongue.
They roared above you, pupils shooting big enough that you could see your shaking reflection in them. They clutched you tighter, shoving you into them as their mandibles secured themselves at the spot between your neck and your shoulder.
And before you could scream for forgiveness, glowing green was replaced with metallic red. It was almost poetic how your blood mixed together. How you somehow chose the same place to leave your marks. Only that yours were a crude attempt at survival while theirs was-
What were they doing?
Their fangs were still buried in your pulsing flesh, soaking in the wet heat of your bruised body, but you could hear the low rumbling of their voice still. "Please" it was difficult to hear if it was a question or a demand, either way it sounded too sweet for the way they were behaving. Too innocent, too kind, too much like your mate.
"Please- I'm scared - I'm scaring you" they strung together sentences, and your hand moved to draw circles on their back in an ironic display of human stupidity. Always loving, always giving, always soft. Soft is what they loved about you, soft is what they swore they weren't. Soft is what they were right now. With their teeth rammed into your neck.
"I need thi- you"
They purred rythmically with every word, their hips rutting slowly against your inner thigh
"You, you, you"
and you slowly began feeling less like prey and more like devine medicine, like a cure-it-all. But in this position you were nevertheless still terrified.
One of your legs carefully wrapped itself around their outer thigh, helping you in pulling yourself up. And surprisingly, they actually let you.
Their grip faltered ever so slightly and their mandibles released from your flesh with a goosebump-inducing squelching sound. You let out a low groan and bit your tongue trying to ignore the pain, instead focusing on dealing with the issue at hand.
Your mate was in front of you, eyeing you like their last meal and waiting for another opportunity to pounce. An opportunity you were not going to give them.
"Can... C-can you lay down?" You ask with a shake in your voice, gaze looking for any sudden movements, yet none came. They moved not an inch, eyes still focused on you and you could practically see their control slipping away slowly.
Swallowing, you repeat yourself with a lot more (albeit fake) confidence. Something which seemed to work.
"My love, please- will you lay down for me?"
You almost let out a laugh of relief when they did as you said. But you kept yourself from cheering just yet.
Your legs wobbled slightly as you moved to sit on their lap once again. It was hard to put your full weight on them, they were like a furnace, burning your skin with every touch. But this was more important than your comfort, or your fear- you'd sworn to stay by their side no matter how dangerous it'd get.
Tracing your hands over their stomach and up to their chest, you reminded yourself of this. Memories of your first time getting to know them grounded you. Their patience with a species far more primitive than theirs, their courage to choose peace over violence whilst coming from a race that worshipped death and the bringers of it.
Their purring started slowly reminding you more of your own heartbeat. This was not a monster. This was not a monster.
Your eyes, which had involuntarily closed now opened, looking down at your mate with more rationality. Their upper body was bare and littered with fresh scratch wounds that you hadn't noticed before.
Their lower body was bare as well, with only a small cloth covering what was in between. Something which it was not doing well, since the outline of their erection was just as visible as the natural lubrication running down their thighs.
It had been obvious before, but with them laying underneath you now, begging for release, for salvation... Why they'd barely eaten the past weeks, why they'd forfeited their training, why they suddenly avoided touching you, you realized now with horror-
They had been preparing for mating season.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you whispered, leaning down to put a kiss to their shaking form, your fear dissipating and replacing itself with love and understanding.
Their claws reached up to your hips to hold you gently, painfully gently, like they were trying their best not to crush you in their embrace. Your mouth moved up to their face to place a kiss between their eyes, which they closed in response, leaving them completely vulnerable.
It was a strange form of power you felt in that moment. The power of being a warm meal in front of a starving man, but you didn't let yourself delight in in too long. Your hands trailed over their torso, down to where their throbbing member strained against their abs, and took it into your hands.
You jumped when they grunted underneath you, their lubrication becoming stronger as you rythmically stroked them. The rutting of their hips breaking that rythm, almost throwing you off them with how brutal it was.
Oh, you tried hard to keep yourself from tearing up, they must be in so much pain.
In any other scenario you would've found the sight erotic, but there was nothing erotic about it now.
You knew the risks of mating an alien, knew there was a difference in anatomy. They had been so self conscious about it once they trusted you enough to see them unsheathed, and it completely shattered your views on their species.
Overly confident, arrogant, beastly- those were the words most humans would use to describe them. And though you always tried to be open and understanding, even you had your biases.
Yet growing out of those wasn't hard once you'd met them. They were everything you didn't expect. Intelligent, helpful, kind and so adorably sweet against your tongue.
Their eyes that told you they wanted to devour you whole then averted, timidly glancing between the ground and your body. Their hands trembling as you guided them to lay above your chest, letting them know that the heartbeat they were feeling was for them, only.
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hawaiiparty2 · 26 days
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HELP WHY ALL MY TOWERS CRUMBLE DOWN
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dilatorywriting · 1 year
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Heroes vs. Villains : Octavinelle [Part 2]
Gender Neutral Reader x Octavinelle vs. Rielle Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Octavinelle Version, Part 2 ie. Your red-headed hero arrives at Night Raven College and your other aquatic friends are less than enthused.
[PART 1] [PART 2]
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The VDC is going to be one of the biggest events in Night Raven College’s history. It’s going to be spectacular, awe-inspiring, one for the history books. And somehow, by the grace of the Gods (or, well, Vil and Professor Crewel) you have tickets.
So naturally, Azul wants you to work through the entire thing.
“I know you don’t like people,” he’d smiled, as if he was offering you salvation on a silver platter. “And just think of it—all those crowds of sweaty, screaming, humans running around. It only seems right that I, as your employer and friend, do my due diligence to keep you safe during all of it, hmm?”
“We’re just thinking of your wellbeing,” Jade had piped in, a gloved hand pressed to his chest all innocent-like. You weren’t fooled for a second.
“And think of all the extra Thaumarks you’ll earn in tips!” Azul chirped. “I know being in a new world has been difficult for you in more ways than one, and that the financial burden in particular has been terribly unpleasant. So really, we’re just doing everything we can to assist you!”
Lies about being considerate for your ‘delicate mental health’ aside, money was good. Money was great. And besides, all you really cared about was the Choral Competition. As long as you could sneak away for that one, camping out in the Lounge didn’t actually seem like the worst idea in the world. The food was excellent, the atmosphere soothing, and the company was—
…Well.
‘Less than desirable’ would probably be an understatement. But Azul always let you take home the leftovers at the end of the night, and sometimes on colder nights Jade would make you a cup of cocoa with no mushrooms in it or anything. So maybe you could excuse a bit of sadism here and there.
So the VDC came and little, poor, you were squirreled away behind the gilded doors of the Mostro Lounge. Aside for the influx of costumers (and subsequent ‘event price hikes’), it was hardly different than any of your other shifts. The one notable difference was how often Azul swapped your station. Normally you were on door duty, or acting as part of the wait staff. But every time a group of RSA students strutted by in their fancy white uniforms, the Octo-Mer would shuffle you off to the kitchens. Or the bar. Or even his office sometimes, demanding assistance with clerical work.
Someone called your name and you lifted your head from your cloud of misery and menial labor—only half paying attention to the people you were ushering in towards the seating area. But instead of another unfamiliar blob waving you down, you actually recognized this guy. Him and his brilliant shock of red hair that you wouldn’t be able to miss from a mile away.
Lo – it was fork dude.
Or, well, Prince Rielle Tidal of Atlantica. But whatever. Man had pushed a utensil into your hands and told you to brush your hair with it. There was no coming back from that.
Your sun-kissed savior swerved through the line to greet you, nearly bowling you over in his enthusiasm. His RSA uniform was a blotch of bleached brightness against the sea of Night Raven’s black ensemble. Normally your rival academics seemed to travel in packs—safety in numbers and all that. But Rielle was weaving through the mass of grumpy NRC faces like he was perfectly at home.
“I decided to pop by to see Azul and his business—because, you know, he was always so smart and pragmatic so I knew it’d probably be really cool and whatever—but wow! It’s really you!”
“It’s really me,” you repeated, fighting to keep the chirp in your customer service voice. “So, would you like a table or—"
“Wait a second—Azul has you working during the festival?!” Rielle gawked, as if he was just realizing that he had stepped into a place a of business, and that you were wearing the uniform of said establishment. “That’s so cruel!”
Yes. Yes it was. But Azul was nothing if not cruel. And if this guy actually knew anything about him at all, he should be perfectly aware of that.
“Someone has to do it,” you shrugged. “Anyways, can I get you something to—”
“Wah, look at this! Shrimpy’s slackin’ on the job!”
Maybe you could put your head through the wall. That would probably be less painful.
Floyd, Jade, and Azul materialized behind you seemingly out of thin air. The terrible trio greeted your dour frown with varying degrees of spiteful glee. And… something else? There was a sort of tension about them that didn’t mesh with their usual haughtiness. It had cropped up for the first time a few weeks ago—that day at the beach. And subsequently the hours after when Jade had pulled Azul into his office to whisper all kinds of nonsense that was apparently ‘too delicate’ for you and whatever tolerance you’d built for these sociopaths.
“Actually, it’s my fault!” Rielle blurted, stepping smoothly in front of you with all the chivalry of a knight. You wanted to warn him that dipping into Floyd’s bite radius was a terrible idea, but at the same time, you were tired, and hungry, and very curious to see how this would all play out. “And I was just wondering—well… I—I mean…”
The young Prince was starting to splutter, his cheeks burning that same, hot, pink that they had all those weeks ago at the beach. He took a moment to clear his throat, compose himself, and then grasped your hands with both of his very neatly manicured ones.
You thought you heard someone gasp. Like in a period novel.
“I actually heard that you were at Night Raven too! And I’ve been looking all over for you! So—I—Would you—” More throat clearing. Floyd’s teeth were grinding together so loudly it almost sounded like a buzzsaw. “Do you want to get something to eat with me?”
There was a deafening crack and you watched as Jade nearly put Floyd through the floor in an attempt to keep him from lurching forward. You observed the scene before you with pleasant sort of surprise as the trio across from you erupted. Or, well, Floyd had erupted. Jade just had that perfectly polite smile on his mouth that let you know he was planning someone’s murder. And Azul looked like he’d just taken physical damage.
Huh. Interesting.
Then again, you’d known they were a proprietary bunch. And you also knew that you were the favorite chew toy around these parts. No one else was sturdy enough for the role, apparently.
“Oi, Princey,” Floyd snarled from behind Jade’s gloved fingers. “What do you think you’re—"
“I—” you interrupted, stepping between the rabid Merfolk and the would-be-mincemeat. “—would love to.”
Silence.
“…What?” Azul squawked.
“I’m due for my break anyways,” you shrugged, enjoying the horrible little surge of satisfaction warming your gut. Take that, you obnoxious fucks. You weren’t sure why Rielle and his crimson-monstrosity of a hairdo had set the three of them off so terribly, but you’d been on your feet for hours now. And missing all the food stalls, and your other friends, and you were going to take this petty revenge where you could.
You turned to Rielle with a polite little smile that you hoped looked more demure than scheming, and his eyes sparkled.
“You don’t mind eating here, do you?” you asked before shooting Azul an award-winning grin. “I’m sure having a Prince dining in would be great advertisement.”
“But of course,” he grit out. “Who would I be to turn down such a ringing endorsement.”
Rielle tossed an amiable arm across your shoulders and laughed that tinkling, church-bell, laugh of his. Floyd’s lip twitched and Azul snagged his arm quicker than a snake could strike. The snarling behemoth was promptly dragged off into the depths of the Lounge—Azul muttering something frantically under his breath that you couldn’t make out. He looked hunched, panicked. And whatever he was saying must have been serious enough to snag Floyd’s fickle attentions, because the too-tall henchman stayed firmly at his boss’s side. The pair of them vanished into the kitchens, the door slamming behind them.
“Just this way then, if you’d please,” Jade beamed, positively glacial.
“This’ll be great!” the Prince preened, keeping a loose grip on you as you both trailed a very stiff Eel through the front parlor. “I get to see all of Azul’s awesome accomplishments and have lunch with you at the same time!”
“The Mostro Lounge is a lovely place to dine,” you chirped, repeating your familiar, scripted, server prompts from memory. “There’s something for everyone.”
“Is that so?” Rielle hummed, as if in deep thought. “That’s very considerate of them.”
Plenty of people at this school liked to insult your intelligence, and you in turn liked to remind certain someones (Ace. Sebek.) that it was best not to throw stones in glass houses. But this was—you may have really found an actual, factual, ditz. Was this how Azul felt all the time? Looking down at you mere mortals with his superior IQ and cunning? Listening to Rielle’s innocent rambling made you feel like Einstein. It was… sort of nice.
My God, you were going to have be responsible for him, weren’t you? Is that was parenthood felt like?
Jade led you to a quiet booth in the back—the one with a direct line of sight to both the kitchens and Azul’s office. The one reserved for problem customers. You folded yourself neatly onto the cushioned bench and Rielle followed, sitting at your side rather than across the table. Something in Jade’s jaw twitched.
“What do you recommend?” Rielle asked you cheerfully, practically radiating enthusiasm. “I’m sure everything is fantastic!”
“Hmm… How about the Mixed Seafood Platter to start I think,” you grinned, turning your polite beam back on your unfortunate server. “With the Unagi, please.”
Beneath all that bubbling irritation, something in those bi-colored eyes gleamed with the barest hint of respect.
“But of course. If you’ll excuse me.”
Once Jade had retreated, Rielle relaxed back into his seat with a theatrical sigh. He brushed his neat swoop of hair off his forehead, like he was wiping away sweat from a workout.
“Phewf! Not that Azul’s friends aren’t nice and all, but they always give me a bit of the heebie-jeebies.”
That was the kindest word for ‘intense murderous aura’ that you’d ever heard.
“A bit, yeah,” you agreed easily enough. “So how do you know Azul?”
“Oh!” he perked right back up. “We were classmates! When we were younger. He was always really quiet, but also really smart! Is he still like that? Quiet—I mean. Reserved.”
A memory struck you then—of standing at Azul’s side in the lobby of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. You remembered his hesitant determination as he replaced his old class photo on the wall. The picture of a tiny, rounder, Azul standing off to the side—hunched, grey, and miserable amidst a sea of laughing faces. You couldn’t remember if there had been a brilliant slash of red mixed in there anywhere. You hadn’t even bothered to check. Because why would you have even deigned to look at the faces of a group of bullies?
Something soured in your gut.
“I wouldn’t say that, no,” your smile sharpening a bit at the edges. “He’s actually very talkative. It’s hard to get him to shut up most of the time.”
“Really?” Rielle gaped. “Wow! That’s awesome!”
Jade slithered by to drop off your appetizers, and if he noticed the slight drop in your mood he didn’t mention it. He was in and out in a flash. You could just see the whisps of his teal hair disappearing back into Azul’s office.
“Enough about Azul though,” Rielle waved off, reaching for the platter. “Tell me about you!”
“Me?” you echoed, bland. “But isn’t Azul your old friend?”
The Prince waved you off once more, cheeks pinkening all over again. “I can talk to him whenever. I’d much rather hear about you! You’re—You’re interesting!”
Now, that was probably a genuine compliment. You doubted Rielle actually meant to slight your friend companion boss by implying that the most ambitious, intelligent, cunning, and well-dressed merman on campus wasn’t interesting enough to converse about—that all of Azul’s efforts to bring himself out of the shadows and onto center stage were still wanting. But that bitter thing in your stomach was raring for a fight.
So you ruffled around in your uniform pocket and pulled out the little notebook you used to tally orders. You shot Rielle the brightest, sweetest, smile you could and watched his stupidly pretty face light up redder than his hair.
“Actually,” you giggled—giggled. Like a freak. “I’d love to hear about you.”
.
.
.
“He’s going to say something!—”
“What doesn’t Shrimpy already know, huh?” Floyd griped. “And I mean, didn’t you steal Ramshackle? You really think bubble-butt out there can do anything to make the Prefect hate you?”
Azul paced. And paced. And paced.
“It’s not about hating me,” he hissed, fighting the urge to wring his hands. “It’s about realizing there are better options out there, and—”
“Bubble-butt is a better option?!” Floyd cackled.
“Stop interrupting me!”
“Then stop whining,” the eel droned, flopping his head back against the couch. “You shoulda just let me squeeze ‘em.”
“We do not need to spark an international incident in my restaurant,” Azul repeated. Though it sounded less like he was trying to convince Floyd than himself.  “Rielle Tidal is a Prince—”
“—a shitty, turd, leftover, Prince—”
“—who we must treat,” Azul grit out, “as such.”
There was a firm rap against the door and Jade slipped inside. Azul had to fight the reflex to pounce on him immediately. Instead he took a moment to pause and straighten his suit jacket. His fingers were shaking and he was sure that Jade would have seen, but thankfully there seemed to be a single shred of mercy left in his Vice-Warden’s cold, withered, heart, and the trembling limbs were not mentioned.
Jade cleared his throat and Azul leaned forward, anxious.
“I think you may be overthinking things,” he said, calm as a cucumber, and Azul wanted to scream.
“It’s not paranoia, it’s being prepared,” he snipped. A pause. “But why do you say that? What happened? Did something happen?”
Jade smiled that placid smile of his. “No.”
“No?” Azul repeated, flabbergasted.
“No,” Jade shrugged.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Floyd piped in.
Azul was just about to turn and remind his wonderful subordinate just how terrible he could make his existence when there was another knock at the door—lighter than Jade’s but just as familiar. Not a moment later, your head popped through the crack and you peaked inside wearily.
Azul hastily cleared his throat and Jade’s grin turned smug.
“Pr-Prefect! Can I help you with something?”
Floyd snickered under his breath and Azul mentally added another three hours onto the bastard’s nightly dish duties.
You stepped inside and tossed a tiny notebook down onto his desk.
“Here,” you said, with a grumpy sort of frown on your face. “All of Prince Rielle of Atlantica’s stupid wants, hopes, and dreams. You better be able to put this to good use you stupid mafioso wannabe, because I’ve been listening to this guy ramble on about himself for ages now, and I’d rather get drowned by Jade and Floyd again.”
You turned without another word and slammed the door behind you.
Azul gaped wordlessly at the pile of tiny pages splattered across his desk, and the familiar curl of your handwriting filling each and every one of them.
“Oh,” he breathed.
“Oh indeed,” Jade grinned.
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thechaoticdruid · 1 month
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So like Ascended Vamp Daddy said I could make a taglist for The Spawn vs The Ascendant as long as the readers who want to be on it get on their knees.
So kneel I guess...
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But like seriously comment below to be tagged when the next chapter drops 👇
Heart and reblog to help me escape this madman. 🏃‍♀️🙏
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