#it was out of sheer boredom but i turned out pretty good

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Three

One | Two

I usually try to throw out updates weekly but I got possessed by the muse for Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins and, like, finished the main chapters for that in a daze hfjdk I still need to write the two epilogues, but needed a little break, so here we are!

Part three has Eddie confirming his suspicions, like two seconds of angst that is immediately thrown out the window, and a little flirting UwU

I hope you enjoy! As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ^_^

----

Something hits Steve in the back of the head. He'd be upset if not for the fact that he's facing away from Dustin and gave the kid paper for the express purpose of throwing if he needs Steve's attention. After much trial and error, the system finally works for them.

Steve sets down the plate he was washing (the aftermath of Dustin asking for grilled cheese sandwiches and annoying Steve until he caved) and turns, drying his hands on a dish towel. "What's up?"

Dustin's chest and arms are sprawled across the table, looking for all intents and purposes that he'd collapsed from sheer boredom or frustration. When Steve speaks, though, he sits up straight so Steve can see his mouth properly. "Can you pick me up tomorrow?"

"I thought your mom was."

"She told me this morning that she got saddled with a last minute thing."

Steve frowns, slowly parsing through Dustin's mouth movement and trying to find the shape of words. He doesn't get all of them, but he gets enough to understand the problem. "Oh," he says, "yeah, sure. Right after school?"

Dustin shakes his head, pushing his biology homework away so he can lean forward. "Hellfire is tomorrow. Eddie says it's gonna be in the math classroom. Can you meet me there at 4:30?"

Somehow, Steve immediately recognizes Eddie's name. Unsurprisingly, it makes him think of the guy, and his mind happily offers up the memory of Eddie laughing on stage. Steve struggles to push the memory aside, at least moving it to a corner until he can properly reminisce later.

"Which math room?" Steve asks, hoping Dustin doesn't notice a longer than normal delay in his response.

He doesn't, if his relieved and happy grin is anything to go by. "213," Dustin says. He then pauses, as if suddenly thinking of something. "Also, uh, maybe wait in the next hall or something. Don't let Eddie see you."

"Why can't Eddie see me?" he asks. Has Eddie been complaining about Steve lately? Has Dustin spent the past week listening to Eddie insult or make fun of Steve for...something he did at the Hideout? Did he not act normal enough?

Well, it's probably not that last one. Robin is great at elbowing Steve when someone is talking to him. She's saved him from numerous awkward situations with that move. It's almost worth the bruise he'll inevitably get from her sharp elbow.

"He won't, like, shut up about you," Dustin says, his nose wrinkling some in disgust and distorting the shape of his mouth. He waits until his expression is under control to add, "He can't get over you attending his gig or something. Keeps saying it's weird that "King Steve" likes metal."

"Oh."

Steve feels his shoulders grow heavy, a weight pressing down on him. He can't hear how Dustin is saying the words, and Dustin's expression isn't animated enough for Steve to glean any kind of tone. But experience has taught Steve that Eddie is probably complaining, even if Dustin isn't saying it outright.

Now that he's thinking about it, it probably was weird for Steve to just show up to a heavy metal gig. He's never shown any sign of liking the genre to others before. Then again, he's pretty skilled at passing for completely "normal" to other people. That results in him being King Steve, though, and that version of him might be all that Eddie can see, which would make his appearance at the Hideout pretty fucking awkward, huh?

Steve is so lost in his thoughts and the feeling of remorse and embarrassment and frustration that he almost misses how Dustin rolls his eyes, his shoulders jerking with a scoff. He pays attention just in time to watch as Dustin says, "Yeah, so if he sees you, he'll probably grill you on your favorite bands or something. He's, like, obsessed with figuring out all the other freak things about you. His words, by the way."

It's a lot all at once, and Steve ends up asking Dustin to repeat himself twice before he can fully comprehend everything. Despite the slightly annoyed look, Dustin doesn't complain. When he finally understands each word, that weight lifts from Steve's shoulders, the sudden emotional whiplash making him feel a little floaty.

"That's why he can't see me?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at Dustin and leaning back against the sink.

"Yeah, it'll take forever. It's like when Mom runs into a friend and just stands there talking for a whole hour," Dustin complains, sprawling himself across the table once more when he's done speaking.

Steve snorts and leans over, ruffling his hair and jerking his hand back before Dustin can smack it. "I promise we wouldn't talk for an hour, but I'm not going to avoid Eddie. If he sees me, he sees me."

Dustin doesn't need to know that a small part of Steve really hopes Eddie sees him, deafness and all. And maybe he'll even like what he sees.

----

Eddie Munson is not stupid.

Well, his grades and teachers would beg to differ, so he'll rephrase that.

Eddie Munson is a fantastic DM, which means he regularly takes a big plot twist and sprinkles hints of it throughout each session of a campaign. Doing this means being able to put those puzzle pieces back together, too, and ensuring they lead up to the logical plot twist. So, Eddie's brain is great at seeing some puzzle pieces scattered around and putting them together to make a complete picture, and he's definitely been seeing some puzzle pieces.

Like Steve Harrington never looking over when Eddie first speaks to him. And the way Steve stares at his mouth, his brows slightly furrowed like he's trying to decode something (Eddie would love for this puzzle piece to belong to a "Steve Harrington wants to kiss Eddie Munson" big picture, but he's not delusional). And how Steve needs to be nudged or needs to see someone before realizing they're close to him. And how he didn't seem to understand Eddie's words until he looked down at a notebook Robin had scribbled in.

And that's not even counting the stuff Eddie Munson noticed about Steve in high school. Steve Harrington walked through the halls like someone was hunting him, his shoulders tense and his eyes always flitting around from person to person, like he was scared of someone sneaking up on him. He always seemed to ignore people when they called out to him, and Eddie had once dismissed it as him being an asshole. Steve never actually paid attention in class, either; he'd spend the whole time doodling in his notebook or zoning out while staring at the wall. He didn't even look up when the teacher called on him, and eventually the teachers stopped trying.

So, yeah, Eddie has slowly started piecing the puzzle together, resulting in a picture that he never would have linked to Steve Harrington, of all people. But it's the logical conclusion. It's the brilliant plot twist that makes so much sense when you review previous campaign sessions.

He just needs to test it, to see if he's actually right or if he needs to review the pieces once more.

Eddie's chance comes after Hellfire Club on Wednesday. Their session had finished a little earlier, if only because the players had gotten through Eddie's planned journey faster than intended. The next part couldn't be stopped five minutes in, so Eddie had called it a day and gone to the bathroom while the others talked about their character progression.

In the few minutes it took for him to piss, Steve had strolled into the school and started waiting in the hallway next to the math room. He's leaning against the wall, head tilted down as he reads a small book, his lips turned down into a slight frown as he concentrates.

This is the scene Eddie sees when he rounds the corner, and before he can really think about it, he scurries back to remain out of view. He's not scared of Steve Harrington. He just knows this is the best chance he's got to test his theory. Eddie glances around the corner, watching as Steve turns the page of his book, and he suddenly wants to know what has captured his attention so strongly.

Eddie takes a deep breath and slides around the corner again, sticking close to the wall to remain out of sight. "Hey, Harrington," he says, his volume normal and easy to hear.

Steve doesn't react. He doesn't even twitch or give any indication that he heard Eddie and simply decided to ignore him.

"Haaariiiiingtooonnn," Eddie calls, a little louder and drawing the word out.

Still nothing. Well. Steve frowns a little deeper, turns the page back, and rereads whatever part has tripped him up.

"Steve, you motherfucker," Eddie says, the same volume as before, and this time trying something that might anger him. "Your hair looks ugly," he adds. It's a lie, of course. Steve's hair looks fantastic, and Eddie wants to run his fingers through it.

No reaction, and Eddie is starting to feel brave. He takes a few steps closer, still hugging the wall. "Oh, Stevie," he says, getting a slight grin, "big boy, sweetheart, darling, pretty thing." The endearments easily fall from his lips, hanging in the air with Steve none the wiser.

So. Eddie thinks it's safe to say his theory is correct: Steve Harrington can't hear. And Eddie is suddenly, achingly curious to know more. He wants to see how Steve, with his perfect hair and his stupid little moles and his blinding grin, navigates the world when he can't even hear it. He wants to know how Steve experiences music; he wants to know how many other people know; he wants to know if Steve ever gets frustrated and what he gets frustrated about; he wants to know if Steve's other senses are stronger to balance out his lack of hearing.

He wants to know everything.

Eddie strolls over, standing next to Steve and tapping his shoulder. He feels a little bad when Steve jerks in surprise, sliding back a few steps and looking at Eddie with wide eyes. "Don't do that!" Steve says, his gaze flitting around the hall before he forces himself to calm down and look at Eddie.

"Sorry," Eddie says, hoping his expression tells Steve just how much he means it. "You didn't look up when I called you."

Steve blinks, his lips twitching into an almost wry smile. "I, uh, was really absorbed," he says after a moment, idly holding up his book so Eddie can see "The Bicentennial Man" by Isaac Asimov on the cover.

"Heavy reading," Eddie says, trying to remember if he'd ever seen Steve read science fiction in high school.

Steve shrugs, glancing at the cover with a slight frown. "Dustin and Will were talking about it a few days ago. They seemed to like it. Figured I'd see what the fuss was about," he explains.

"Is it worth the fuss?" Eddie asks.

But Steve doesn't answer because he's still looking at the cover. A few more seconds pass before he sighs and looks up at Eddie. "It's kind of confusing," he admits.

And Eddie can't help himself. He wants the satisfaction of truly knowing he was right, and he wants Steve to know that he knows what's up. So, he asks, "Are you deaf?"

-----

Steve tenses, his shoulders hiking up, and he holds the book closer to his chest like it will somehow shield him. "What....how did you know?" he asks, deciding he doesn't need to try bluffing. Eddie's voice wasn't hesitant. He already knows the answer.

"Just noticed things," Eddie says, shrugging as he steps closer to Steve and grins.

The thing is, Steve hasn't tried hiding his deafness lately. Sure, he would have rather died in high school before letting someone discover he couldn't hear, but now? Now he doesn't really care. He's faced literal monsters; someone just innocently asking if he's deaf shouldn't result in the spike of anxiety that shoots down his spine.

At least, Steve thought he wouldn't care. Apparently, his body didn't get the memo, and years of habit had taken over, putting Steve on the immediate defensive. He clenches his jaw, forces his shoulders to relax, and reminds himself of Dustin's whole "Eddie seems weirdly obsessed with you" comment from the day before.

"Is that a problem or something?" Steve asks, relaxing his shoulder and forcing himself to stay in place.

Eddie pauses, frowning like he hadn't expected Steve to ask him that. "No," he says, the word a little drawn out based on how long his lips linger on the "o" shape. "How long?"

Okay. Steve can handle this. He can already see Eddie's questions following the same path as Robin's and Dustin's when they first learned he was deaf. "I started losing my hearing in elementary school. It was pretty much gone by high school," he explains.

Of all people, Eddie should be the most understanding, right? He probably isn't deaf, but Steve's deafness is something that makes him a freak. Sure, it wasn't super obvious in high school, but it still has to count for something, right? It has to help erase the King Steve persona from Eddie's brain, right?

"That explains a lot," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes like he's trying to filter his memories of Steve through this new lens. "You don't have hearing aids?"

"I, uh, don't usually wear them in public."

"Why not?"

Steve opens his mouth to answer but stops himself. Saying he didn't want people to know in high school would feel shallow, yes, but it would be true. Besides still needing to actually get new ones, he doesn't have much of an excuse for not wearing them now. He frowns slightly, gripping the book in his hand a little tighter. It must make some kind of sound because Eddie's eyes flick down to it before looking back up.

"I didn't want people to know in high school," he finally says, rubbing his thumb over the book's cover in an attempt to expel some of the nervous energy he feels. "If people knew, especially teachers, my grades and stuff would've been blamed on, you know, my deafness. And then my parents would've put me into a special school for others who are deaf or hard of hearing. I didn't really want to get transferred like that, especially in the middle of high school."

"What about now, Stevie? You're not exactly in high school anymore," Eddie says. And did Steve read his lips right? That was his name in the middle, he doesn't doubt that, but...was it changed? There was an extra movement at the end, Eddie's bottom lip pulling back slightly like a long E was thrown in there.

It's not like he can ask, so he shoves the thought away, thinking instead of his crushed and useless hearing aids. His shoulders slump a little at the thought. "My hearing aids are broken, but I don't have enough for new ones yet."

Eddie's eyes narrow again, and he leans a little closer. "Aren't your parents, like, stupidly rich? I mean, I've been to your parties, Harrington, it's not a small house you've got there. Just ask Mommy and Daddy to buy you some new ones," he says.

Steve blinks, trying to grasp the words while also processing just how strongly Eddie's "cigarette smoke-weed-woodsy outdoor" smell overwhelms him. It's not bad (maybe it should be? Steve doesn't think he's ever liked these smells before), but it makes Steve's head feel fuzzy and slow, like he's trying to wade through cotton balls. He blinks again, pushing through the daze to say, "Can you repeat that? You, uh, you spoke too fast."

The smell recedes as Eddie leans back, his lips quirking up into a smile that's more...indulgent than it is mean. "Your parents are rich. Ask them to buy you new ones," Eddie says.

Okay, that's...significantly less words than Eddie said before. Steve frowns slightly, frustration budding in his chest because he wants to know what Eddie said, not what he asked. He feels like he's being left out of a conversation he's actively participating in, and he has to swallow back his immediate, frustration-motivated response.

Eddie doesn't know, he's likely never spoken to a deaf person before. Steve should give him the benefit of the doubt and a little leeway, right? Honestly, Steve is fucking tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt and leeway, but what else is he supposed to do? Blow up? It would be nice in the moment, sure, but the aftermath? The inevitable apology and the potential indignation from the other person? That sounds fucking exhausting. He'd rather complain to Robin later.

"I want to buy my own," Steve says, knowing his sudden shift in demeanor has been noticed by the confused furrow of Eddie's brow.

Before he can say more, Eddie reaches forward, grabbing the sleeves of Steve's sweatshirt. Based on his surprised expression, it was an impulsive move, but Eddie doesn't let go. He just swallows (Steve should not be staring at Eddie's throat like this) and looks at him. "What's wrong?" he asks, and his face is so expressive that Steve doesn't need to hear his tone to know he genuinely cares and wants to know.

Without thinking, Steve blurts out, "I asked what you said. You just repeated what you asked. I want to know everything you said. Every word. I feel like...like you're trying to dumb things down for me, like you don't think I can actually, I don't know, understand everything. I'm deaf, not stupid."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly. "Oh," he says, licking his lips nervously before nodding. "Okay, yeah, it was kind of mean, though," he admits.

"That's worse, actually," Steve says, frowning and gripping the book tightly once more. "I'll just feel like you're mocking me, or getting off on making fun of me when I don't know. Just repeat yourself, word for word."

And Eddie does. He seems uncomfortable doing so, but he speaks a little slower and makes sure Steve can understand each word this go-around. At the end, he adds, "Like I said, kind of mean. Sorry."

Steve watches Eddie for a few seconds before grinning. "It's fine, Eddie," he says, suddenly realizing how close Eddie has gotten and how Eddie is still holding onto his sleeve. And then, to make sure Eddie knows it's okay, he puts on what Robin calls his Bitch Voice and adds, "Besides, Mommy and Daddy don't need to know I've broken another pair. I'd like to live to see next year."

Eddie blinks when he hears the Bitch Voice and perks up slightly, a grin tugging at his lips and his hold on Steve's sleeve tightening slightly. The awkward moment seems to have passed, and Eddie confirms that by asking, "So, what do you really like about heavy metal?"

"I can feel it. Literally. Heavy metal has stronger vibrations, so I can experience it more easily. I don't really know how the words are sung, but I can feel the beat," Steve explains.

"Then, what did you think of our set?" Eddie asks.

He looks a little nervous, and something in Steve settles, relaxing into place. "Like I said, it was great. Especially your song at the end. I haven't really felt a song like that before. Does your band have more original stuff?" he asks. Maybe he can convince Eddie to record some of their songs so Steve can listen to them. Or, even better, just play only their songs at their next gig.

"Of course we do," Eddie says, standing a little straighter and grinning a little wider and looking at Steve like he's put the stars in the sky. "I'll play them for you next time, sweetheart."

Steve blinks at the word he definitely understood at the very end. Before he can ask about it, though, Eddie glances behind Steve and quickly lets go of his sleeve. Not two seconds later, Dustin shoves himself between Eddie and Steve, looking up at him with an eager smile and bright eyes and Steve has the worst feeling.

"Steve! Can we have a movie night at your place?" he asks as the rest of the kids filter in, pushing Eddie further and further back.

"Sure, but you have to call your parents and tell them when we get to my place," Steve says, incredibly grateful he can't hear when Eddie winces at the cheer that comes from the kids.

And then the kids are pushing him down the hall, undoubtedly arguing with each other about what movie to watch first and not giving Steve a chance to say goodbye, or ask if Eddie was serious about playing for him, or ask if Eddie had meant to call him sweetheart or if that was just, somehow, a mistake.

-----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

@lostgurl-12, @anomalygal, @synonym-for-strange, @sani-86, @missmagillicuddy, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @harringrieve, @awesomeimportantfan, @fredtheemoplant, @warlordess, @therealscarletpumpernickel, @gsvshsjsbs, @mightbeasleep, @mollymawkwrites

@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #good vibrations steddie #steddie fluff #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

[simphornies]

okay, ya’ll hear me out. a cat demon reader who has a crush on alastor (unrequited) and is jst sittin at the bar with husk trying to talk her out of it

A/N: I didn't mean for this to be this long and I didn't mean for this to fade into what it did. But here we are and now I'm gonna have to write a part 2 for this too 🤭✨

Word count: 1.1k (1,135)

Contents: unrequited love, alastor doesn't care about you 😭, vox is involved but at the end, sad drunk reader turn angry, no use of y/n or pronouns, husk being a good shoulder to lean on

Little Pet [ Alastor(unrequited) x Reader → Vox x Reader ]

The static laced voice drove you crazy. His bloodlust was something you strangely found attractive. Alastor. You were in love with the radio demon. Your infatuation for him was the main reason you’re in the hotel since you thought it’d lead to the two of you becoming close.

But it didn’t work. No matter what you did, none of your advances worked and you were too scared to go too far to the point where he distanced himself from you. You’d bring him freshly-killed deer to his room. His delight made you think he was finally starting to warm up to you but he’d just accept your gift and kick you right back out so he can dine by himself.

You groaned at the other cat demon, Husk, who gave you a whole bottle of booze. “I want him so bad, Husk.” You whined before downing half of the bottle.

He rolled his eyes at you, “Look, that fucker isn’t going to consider it.” He sighed at the sad look in your eyes, “I ain’t ever seen him do any of that romantic shit. He’s just not the one, kid.”

“Why can’t he be the one?” You frowned, alcohol dripping from the side of your mouth. You were a mess over this one-sided pining. “Him and I can rule together. We share the same passions, love watching desperate souls try just to fail, do things out of sheer boredom, and crave power! Everything, Husk! I even brought him fresh kill!”

Husk grimaced a bit at the last bit of your sentence but shook the expression off of his face, “You’re gonna have to give up on it. This whole,” He gestured to you, “front you got on right now is looking, well, pretty fuckin’ pathetic. Sorry to be harsh but it’s been, what? A year of pining now? And he hasn’t even spared you a lovin’ glance.” Husk joined you and started to drink an entire bottle of some cheap booze he had.

It was true. You’ve been running, chasing and practically begging for him to return, or even acknowledge, your affections but he would just leave you alone in the dust. You’d be lying if it didn’t hurt. You take a new bottle off of the shelf behind Husk and popped it open, the cork flying off somewhere with a satisfying ‘pop’ sound. “Thanks for the pep talk, Husk.” You pat his back, “I’ll…try to get over it. You’re right. And thanks for the alcohol.”

He gave you a slight smile and nodded, “The bartender’s always here for you. Let me know if you need another round.”

As soon as you got to your room you slammed the door shut behind you before throwing yourself on your bed. You screamed into your pillow and kicked your legs iut of frustration. Your ears pinned down to your side as you flipped on your back. “What the fuck was I thinking?” You turned your head and caught a glimpse of your drunken, emotional self in the mirror. You laughed at your sad display. What were you thinking? Falling for an overlord like him? He’d never return your feelings. You drink out of the bottle you took earlier. “Fuckin’ lame.” You grumbled to yourself.

Maybe it was an attempt to distract yourself from your broken heart but you ended up scrolling through your phone all night long. You started off looking at the pictures you took with the staff and residents here. They made you smile but every single time you see a glitchy photo, your eyes immediately scanned for the red deer demon and your smile would dissipate into a frown. The more you see him, the more your frown would turn into a scowl. Maybe it was the alcohol but your adoration for him turned into irritation.

He could have at least given you an answer! Some kind of closure. But he just continued to be standoffish and mysterious. You didn’t need him. You couldn’t even take photos with him and you love taking photos. Who needs him anyways? Not you. Not anymore, at least. You got mad looking through your gallery and went on social media.

You scrolled through boring posts until your attention was caught in a VoxTek ad. You squint. Vox hates him and you never really understood why at first, but now you do. That pompous, red, deer-headed, old-timey overlord thinks he’s too good for others. You were done pining for him. Your anger sobered you up and erased your affections for the radio demon. You did so much for him! Followed his bidding and his commands with nothing in return, not even a little bit of praise. You’ve killed for him with no hesitation and he didn’t even bother to look! You were done throwing yourself at someone who won’t appreciate your effort.

You look around your room. You didn’t own a lot of things, only a couple drawers of clothes and maybe some little trinkets you got from Charlie littered your table. You look back down at your phone, staring at the photo of VoxTek’s CEO, Vox.

If there was anyone that could understand this newfound hatred, it would be him. If Alastor can’t recognize you for your power now, then you’re just going to have to make him see you. Make him regret ignoring your obvious affections for him and leaving you hanging with no closure.

You pack your things and leave in the night. You left a note for everyone, except Alastor, apologizing for the sudden disappearance and stating you weren’t necessarily ready for redemption yet. Before you headed out, you left a trinket for Husk as a thanks for constantly listening to your ramblings and helping you out of this hole you dug yourself.

You started to make your way to the Vee tower and as you walked with your backpack, you looked around for a VoxTek drone. As soon as you spot one hovering over the rooftops, you jump on anything that could help you get close to it. As soon as you made it up on the roof you stared right into the lens, determination on your face. You lightly tapped on it with your claw.

“Vox? I know you can hear me. I know you’ve seen me around the radio demon. But I’m fucking done with that prick. I’m leaving the hotel and going straight to your tower. I need you and your power. With me by your side, I promise you that you’ll definitely get under that old fuck’s skin.” You grin at the camera and walk away, jumping rooftop to rooftop as you head towards the tower.

Vox heard and saw you. A sinister grin crept up on his face as he leaned back on his chair. He chuckled with amusement at your resolve, his left eye spiraling. “Interesting.”

Taglist: @froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #unrequited love #love to hate moment

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Four}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

I sat on the bed of my room, it was nicer than I expected it to be. Quite spacious too. My mind was still racing from what just happened. I spoke face to face with Lucifer himself. And what's worse? He's suspicious. He might not know I'm an angel, thanks to Alastor's help. But didn't make me feel any better that he suspects something. What would he do if he caught me?

I shutter, trying to shake the thought from my head. Alastor made it clear that demons would jump at the chance to get ahold of an angel. I didn't even want to think about what Lucifer would do. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my door opening. I look over to see Alastor standing in the doorway.

"Quite the day you've had." He says before stepping inside and shutting the door. I only nod. "You fell from heaven and got to meet the devil himself all in one day."

I grimace. "I uh, didn't expect him to look like that." I muttered. "Expecting a red demon with horns and a pitch fork?" Alastor raises an eyebrow with a smug grin. I shrug. "I guess?"

Alastor chuckled at my words, he walked over to a near by window and looked out of it. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect that either when I ended up here." I look over at him. As much as he has already explained to me, I was still confused to as to just what exactly he is. Who he is. I choose my next words carefully as I ask.

"How does one become a overlord?" I asked. Alastor's grin widened at my question. "Why, earning it of course! You don't become as feared as I am over night. Though, I will admit I earned my position rather quickly. Maybe a month or two at the most." Alastor went on.

"There are plenty more like me out there. I tend to keep my distance from them however. We do not share the same ideals, so I see no point in trying to "get along" with any of them. Especially that damn flatscreen faced fool."

Alastor's expression soured slightly at the mention of the "flatscreen faced fool". Such an odd nickname for someone. I couldn't help but wonder just who he was talking about.

"So, you're all pretty strong? From what you said, a lot of people here are afraid of you." Alastor nods. "Strong is an understatement my dear. But yes, we are." I then thought back to Lucifer. "But not stronger than Lucifer?"

Alastor's eyebrow twitched. "Unfortunately." I had thought as much. Though, I didn't speak much more on the subject, clearly Alastor wasn't too happy about it. "And you, an overlord, work at a hotel? Why would you do that?"

"Sheer boredom." Alastor says with a shrug. "I've reached a low point believe it or not. Things are starting to repeat. So, why not join in on the princess' little project? Sinners given the chance to be redeemed? Ha! Now that's entertaining!"

I didn't much like the way he laughed off Charlie's idea. She had a good heart, and wanted to see the best in others. She didn't want them to be in this place forever. It was nice, and she wasn't hurting anyone. If she could pull it off, than good on her.

"About Charlie. Has she always been like this? So...nice?" I asked. "I have only known her for a week. But I assume so. She's one of the more polite demons I've met, given who her father is." He chuckles. "And her idea, this belief that sinners can be redeemed. It's adorable."

I furrow my brows. "At least she's trying to care about the people down here." Alastor raised an eyebrow at my words. "So what if it's unheard of? Or if it's even possible at that? She believes in a good cause, and she just wants everyone to have a fair shot at being the best version of themselves they can be. Sure, some if not most of the people down here actually deserve to be here. But those who have done small sins, theft, substance abuse, things like that. Maybe they could make a turn around and be better people. We don't know these people's stories. Charlie's idea, this hotel, is what they might need."

"An angel indeed." Alastor smirks. "So naive, so innocent." I huff and look away from him. "Well forgive me for being considerate for others. I was kinda taught to do so my whole life." I cross my arms, a slight pout on my face. "Yes, about that." Alastor hums. "You seem pretty young my dear. How old are you?" I glance at him.

"I'm twenty five" I answer him with uncertainty. "So young, and already off in heaven? What happened?" My irritation slowly turned into sadness, I look away from him once again, my shoulders slumping slightly.

Alastor spoke after I refused to answer, this time his voice laced with a bit of sincerity. "I see it's a sore subject for you. Never mind it." He says softly. I only nod before more silence fell between us both. "If you truly believe in the princess' cause, why not help her out?"

"But she believes I'm already a sinner in need of rehabilitation. How could I work here?" I asked him. "Easily. Just ask. And showing some interest in helping your fellow sinner wouldn't hurt either." Alastor explains. "It could prove to help you in the long run. Maybe the big man upstairs will see your effort and grant your reentrance into heaven."

I perked up at the idea. Maybe that could work after all. If I can prove that even in hell I can be good and show kindness and love to others, maybe god will accept me again. "Perhaps that could work." I tell him. "Do you think Charlie would let me apply for a position?"

"She could use all the help she can get. I'm sure she wouldn't turn you away." Alastor assures me. "And, how can I be sure that her father won't show up again?" I ask, he only shrugs.

"You can't. Lucifer shows no interest in this hotel or it's ideals, so I doubt he'd be here often. However, I can not guarantee he will never be here. I understand your worry, but there is no need to fret. I have it under control. As long as you have this..." He carefully lifts my necklace by the gemstone. "Then you will be hidden from him, and everyone else in this god forsaken cesspool." He lets go of the necklace, I look down at it.

"The second it comes off, your disguise disappears. And your true form will be revealed." I place my hand over it. "I'll be sure to take great care of it." I promise him. Alastor grins. "I'll hold you to it." He walks back to the door. "I must be off now, I trust you'll stay here in the hotel until I return?" I nod. "Very good." He says before leaving my room.

I sigh before standing from my bed and walking towards the small bathroom in my room. I look into the mirror and stare at my reflection. I still couldn't get over my new look, I'd never thought I'd ever look like this. Like a demon.

Though, it was for the best. As long as I looked like this, I'll be safe. I place my hand on the necklace, my mind then went to Alastor and the deal I made with him. He said he would help me get back into heaven, and all I had to do was amuse him. I furrow my brow at the idea. Just how exactly was I suppose to do that?

I'm not exactly a comedian. Unless, his idea of amusement was some form of comedy at my own expense. I grumble as I step out of my bathroom.

"I wouldn't be surprised if some bodily harm is involved." I mutter before leaving my room. I made way through the halls and down the staircase into the main lobby. I turn my head and see a small bar with that same winged cat demon manning it.

I look around, no one else seemed to be around. Maybe they were all busy? "Hey you." The demon's gruff voice caught my attention. "Ya gonna say something or are ya just gonna stand there lookin like a fucking idiot?"

I bite back a sour expression before walking over. "Sorry." I apologize. "You're Husk, right? Where is everyone?" I ask him. Husk looked up from a glass he was wiping. "Charlie's is up in her office, and I assume her girlfriend is with her. Nifty's off somewhere cleaning something. And I don't know where Angel is. Probably out sucking dick."

Again, I hide my distaste for his choice of words, and only nod. "And as for Alastor? Who the hell knows? I'm sure he's up to no good though. Anyways." Husk puts the glass away. "What will it be?" He asks, turning to the many bottles of liquor on the wall.

"Oh, uh, no I don't drink." I tell him. Husk turns back to me with a raised eyebrow. "You don't drink?" He asks, very confused. And perhaps a little suspicious. Oh, that probably wasn't the best thing I could have said.

Almost everyone in hell drinks, I assume. It would be more than odd if someone down here didn't drink, even if not just a little. "W-Well, I mean, I just say that because people usually don't make it the way I like." I lie.

"Well, you ain't had me make it. What is it, exactly?" Husks asks. Darn. "A whisky." I say uncertainly. Husk nods and begins to make it. "Anything specific added to it?" He asks. Gosh darn it. "...Vodka." Husk raises his brows before returning his expression to normal. "Bold, I'll give you that." He pours the drink before passing the glass to me.

I took a sniff before taking a small sip, failing to hold back my disgust. I set the glass down and just barely repressed a gag. I coughed a few times, blinking back a few tears, a slight shutter going throughout my body.

"Wow." Husk mutters. "You weren't lying when you said you don't drink." I sigh shakily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you pour that drink for nothing." Husk shrugs before taking the glass and downing it easily.

My shocked and admittedly impressed expression caused him to chuckle. "You get use to it after a while." He tells me before making another drink. Before I could refuse it, he put my worry to ease. "It's just sprite." I thank him before taking a much appreciated swig of the drink, grateful that the horrible taste of the whisky was quickly washed away.

"So, what do you do if you don't drink?" Husks asks me. I just shrug. "Other things." I hoped he wouldn't press further. Thankfully he didn't. "Whatcha here for?" Husk asks me, I look up at him from my drink. "Pardon?" I tilt my head.

"You're here for rehabilitation right? What for?" Oh, I was no prepared to answer a question like that. Though, it might have been wise of me to think of something beforehand. Husk raised an eyebrow, I was taking to long to answer. "I stole." I finally managed to say. "I uh, robbed some people when I was alive."

"I see." Husk nod turning his attention away from me. "So. Heard Alastor's the one who showed you to this lovely hotel." Husk says casually. "Surprised that bastard would do something like that." I glance up at him.

"Why's that?" I asked. Husk gave me a look as if I should already know the answer. "He doesn't give a shit about this hotel. All he cares about is the suffering of others. Why the fuck would he care about advertising the hotel to others?" I didn't doubt that. He's been pretty obvious about his disinterest in the hotel. But it wasn't like I could tell him exactly why I was here.

"You two friends or something?" My mind raced as I tried to quickly think up of an answer.

I had a feeling that Alastor had no interest in considering me a friend. We weren't even acquaintances. We were simply just, helping each other out. If that's what you can call it. I went to open my mouth to answer but Husk beat me to it.

"Don't tell me you made a deal with him." His tone wavered on pity and annoyance. My heart skipped a beat, my body language seemed to have given me away as Husked sighed heavily. "Fuck, that's not good. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

I already knew nothing good could come from it. But his words made my unease grow. It was like he had a first hand experience to Alastor's dealings. Suddenly the sound of Alastor's voice caused both of us to freeze.

"Husker my dear friend." I felt Alastor's presence from right behind me, though I didn't turn to acknowledge him. Husk's harden expression fell slightly. His brow twitched, ears flattening against his head a bit.

"I don't believe our business is any of your concern."

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

Life in the wild cat camp moved slowly. Mystique spent the first day talking with their leader, Goldenstar, and Russetfrond, who seemed to be her second in command which was less than ideal. The wild cats had all sorts of questions about Razor and the city and their plans and her intentions and she could understand why but she eventually had to admit that she didn’t have that much to tell them.

“Look, you’re asking the wrong cat,” she had said when pressed about battle plans. “I know how to fight but I’m not like… in charge of training the Chaff or strategizing or anything. Razor keeps all that stuff between him and his friends. I just hang out and do odd jobs now and then, like watching Ginge- I mean, Scorch.”

“Right,” Goldenstar had nodded. “You were asked to keep her from running away, correct?” 

Mystique had shifted uncomfortably. “No, I mean… He asked me to keep her safe, that’s all.” She still didn’t feel ready to examine that train of thought too closely.

“Sure,” Russetfrond had huffed in that infuriating way he had a habit of huffing, “and that’s why she wasn’t allowed out of your sight ever.” 

“Yes!” Mystique’s tail had lashed back and forth over her back. “Is that so unbelievable?” 

“Thank you for answering our questions,” Goldenstar had quickly ended the conversation. “I apologize again for needing to keep you here. Just let your guard know if you need anything.” And they had left her in the empty den. In the days that followed, there were no more questions, although Russetfrond did come by to check in with her guards and glare at her. She entertained herself by poking fun at him. He always took the bait and he always ended up stomping off in a huff after a few minutes. That at least gave her a little satisfaction. 

The rest of the time was much duller though. She wasn’t allowed to leave the den except to scat. Her meals were brought to her by the younger cats - apprentices, if she’d heard right - and she was starting to get used to eating mice but she missed her kibble and gravy treats. Sometimes she would try to strike up conversation with the guard, depending on who they were, and sometimes she slept, but for the most part she just watched. 

She learned their schedules, picked up on their habits. She had a pretty good sense, in her opinion, of who was friends with who. Scorch seemed to be friends with no one even though Goldenstar and the loud ginger tom seemed to be trying very hard. 

One time, she and Scorch made eye contact as she was coming back from a sanitary break with her guard. Scorch had lifted her head with an aloof twitch of her lips but Mystique noted the split second before it where her ears flicked back. If she wasn’t mistaken, the expression was one of guilt. 

That puzzled her. Everything about Scorch was puzzling, honestly. It was like she was always performing this gracious, all powerful being but you could catch a glimpse of something underneath if you were looking right. Mystique still wasn’t sure what kind of beast she had glimpsed slithering beneath the surface and when she thought too hard about it she inevitably ended up thinking about Razor and that was where that ended. 

She didn’t want to think about Razor right now. Alarms flashed in her head every time she tried. You won’t like it in here! they cried, You don’t want to see the shadow truth! Turn around! She always turned around. Still, there wasn’t much to do but sit and think and it was driving her mad. If she didn’t find something else to do soon, she just knew she was going to ignore the warnings out of sheer boredom so she decided to find a distraction and fast.

One afternoon, when this need for something else gripped her, she looked over at her guard for the day and sized him up. He was smallish and round, with a face almost but not quite flat and black spotted fur. He’d been pleasant with her the other time or two he’d been assigned to watch her. As she stared, he seemed to notice and awkwardly turned his head to look at her. 

“Hey, there,” she said, sprawled out near the entrance of the den where he was sitting. 

“Um,” he shifted and straightened his posture, “hello.” 

“Remind me your name?” she asked.

He smiled with a touch of nerves. “Pantherhaze.” 

“Right,” she grinned. The name was familiar now that she heard it again. She jerked her chin up in a nod and said, “Mystique.”

“Right,” he echoed back, trailing the words with a little laugh. She snorted softly. He would be pretty cute if she was into that sort of thing. 

She flicked her tail. “So, is there anything interesting to do around here?” 

“Oh, um,” he frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure… At least, I’m not sure what you could do.”

“Well, what do you do for fun?” asked Mystique. 

He shrugged. “Hunt, fish, maybe wrestle? I dunno.” 

“We could wrestle,” she tried. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he shifted again.

“Come on,” she pressed, “I’m dying of boredom over here! Indulge me a bit.” 

“I don’t think Russetfrond would like that very much,” said Pantherhaze, sounding more like someone who didn’t want to upset a friend than someone who was worried about getting in trouble. 

That intrigued her so she pulled at it like a shoelace poking out under the door. “You know him well?” 

“Yeah,” Pantherhaze smiled. “We grew up together. Kind of. I was always a few moons ahead of him.” 

Mystique rolled onto her side and looked up at him, head tilted upside down. “Was he always such a stiff?” 

Pantherhaze blushed. “He just has a lot on his shoulders is all. He’s actually really great when you get to know him.”

“Yeah?” she laughed. “How so?”

“Um,” her guard squirmed slightly under the scrutiny. “When we were apprentices, he challenged the whole group to climb a tree on a dare. He and Goldenstar nearly made it to the top but I got stuck on one of the branches. They came back down for me and he even jumped first to show me it was safe to go down.” 

“Aww,” Mystique said, mocking him in a way she considered good natured, “how long were you stuck?” 

Pantherhaze’s ears pressed back against his head. “I- That’s not important.” 

Mystique laughed, rolling onto her back and stretching her paws out as far as she could. “Aww! I bet it was a while, wasn’t it stumpy?” 

“Is the rogue giving you trouble?” Russetfrond’s joyless growl cut in on their pleasant moment. Mystique folded her front paws to her chest so she could get an unobstructed view of him, snorting a little at how silly he looked upside down. 

“No, we were just talking,” Pantherhaze said, sounding embarrassed. 

“Yeah, we were just talking about what a sweet boy you are,” she said. “Don’t be such a wet blanket.” 

Russetfrond curled his lip in disgust at the term. “You kittypets and your strange phrases.” 

“Look, you’re the one who’s weird for not knowing what blankets are,” she said, “not me.” 

“I’m glad to see you’re as vapid as ever, kittypet,” he droned back, scowling down at her. 

“Ooh, ouch,” she winced sarcastically. “You know, your silly little insult doesn’t get better just because you insist on saying it.” 

“Hey, guys, let’s not fight,” Pantherhaze meowed gently. 

“I’m just having a bit of fun,” Mystique said, rolling back over to sit up. 

“Tch,” Russetfrond shook his head. Looking at Pantherhaze, he said, “When Goldenstar gets back from patrol she’ll switch you out, alright?”

“Okay,” said the other warrior. Satisfied, Russetfrond turned and started off towards the prey pile. 

“Aw, come back!” Mystique called after him in a playful pout. “Don’t take the fun away! I’m dying in here!”

“Good,” he called back over his shoulder. Mystique snorted, a wide grin spread across her features, but it quickly faded. She sighed heavily and dropped her chin on her forelegs.

“This is worse than being in a cone,” she grumbled. 

Pantherhaze’s brows shot up curiously but all he said was, “I’m sure it will be over soon.” 

“Oh?” she twitched one ear and looked up at him. “You know something I don’t?”

He stiffened. “No, just trying to be friendly.” She believed him.

“I appreciate it,” she sighed again. “Better than ol’ Bee Face over there.” She watched Russetfrond picking out a meal and noticed him glancing back her way. 

“I dunno,” Pantherhaze shrugged. “You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I don’t know about a lot,” she rolled her eyes. 

“But you do like him?” Pantherhaze chirped. 

“I guess,” she conceded. “He reminds me of my brother a bit, but like… grumpier and better tempered at the same time.” She chuckled at the juxtaposition.

“Oh,” Pantherhaze paled, swallowing thickly. “I see.” 

“Look, he’s really not so bad,” she said again, a frown forming. “I know he makes himself out to be this big scary guy but he’s just kind of a dick, that’s all.” 

“I-if you say so,” Pantherhaze smiled but she could tell he wasn’t convinced. She glowered at her paws. Why was everyone so convinced Razor was some uniquely terrible monster?  Everyone she knew liked him fine enough. He was a smart leader, if a bit hot headed, a loyal friend, an attentive partner. She grimaced. Scorch had seemed pretty upset the other night… And there was that time when she cried while explaining how they met… 

STOP! STOP! The alarms caught up to her in a frantic, screaming hurry. YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR! THE SHADOW TRUTH IS ALMOST UPON YOU! She shook her head to distance herself from that train of thought immediately. That had been close. Something squirmed in her stomach though, like a shred of the shadow truth had escaped and refused to be ignored. She thought she might be sick. Her body ached to move, to drown the thinking out in adrenaline and physical satisfaction. She briefly considered running circles around the little burrow. 

“Hey, Pantherhaze!” Goldenstar’s voice sounded before she appeared from the hill beside the entrance. The lanky white and blue apprentice and the dark bengal she-cat continued past her with poorly disguised stares at Mystique. “I’m here to relieve you.” 

“Okay,” he smiled, “Thanks, Goldie.” He jumped up to leave and then, as an afterthought, looked back and said, “Uh, goodbye Mystique.” 

“See ya, Stumpy!” she purred, flicking one ear. Goldenstar raised a brow at that and settled down next to her to start grooming her own paws. Mystique watched her for a moment before she sat up and said, “Well, how was the patrol?” like a busybody fishing for gossip. 

“Same old, same old,” Goldenstar said. “I hope you’ve been doing alright.” 

“Honestly, Goldie- Can I call you Goldie?” 

“Sure,” shrugged Goldie. 

Mystique smiled. “Honestly, Goldie, I’m about to chew my own legs off. I am so tired of laying around! If you’re not gonna let me go home, can you at least let me go hunting or something?” 

“Hmm,” Goldenstar quirked her mouth to the side as she considered the idea. “I dunno…” 

“Oh, come on, please?” she said, “I promise I’ll be good!” She pressed her paws together and swiped them in front of her like she did when the Folk asked her to beg, to which Goldenstar’s brows shot up in amusement. 

“You sound like Floodpaw,” she laughed. 

“Is it working?” Mystique asked, giving her best totally-innocent-I-swear smile. 

Goldie groaned a little and said, “Yeah… Alright, I’ll think about the schedules and see if we can make it work.” 

“Yes!” Mystique gave a mrrp of triumph. “Thanks, Goldie, you’re the best.”

“I try very hard,” laughed Goldenstar.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #clangen oc #warriors oc #clan gen oc #clangenrising #Mystique #Russetfrond #Pantherhaze #Goldenstar #Newleaf

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about Bakugou meeting you on desk duty again.

Though Bakugou’s mellowed out exponentially in his older age, he isn’t always perfect. The temper that once plagued him throughout his childhood was now just a simmering fire in his head as he’d learned to control it over the years. The amount of destruction on the Dynamight expenses list had lessened through time, and his corporate team are now glad they don’t have to try and explain the number of totaled buildings caused by one Pro-Hero alone to the media each year— It still doesn’t mean that Bakugou has changed completely.

There are certain situations, and certain people that simply irk him. From the guy in that Asahi commercial that looks far too fucking smarmy, to the interviews his PR team pencil him in for knowing full well he doesn’t want to attend. Some may call them minor inconveniences, but to him they’re a pain.

And desk duty? Desk duty was the biggest pain of all.

It wasn’t his fault that a villain had decided to run into a newly built artisan coffee shop in the city, and it wasn’t his fault that it happened to be owned by the President of the Hero Commissions son— who was now out for Dynamight’s blood.

And it definitely wasn’t his fault that the scheduled live apology had gone pear shaped.

Bakugou would blame the arrogant asshole for that any day of the week— if the guy had just let him apologise without hurling a string of abuse at him everything would be back to normal and he wouldn’t be waiting for his computer to boot up, but the guy just had to run his fucking mouth. And of course, Bakugou wasn’t going to stand for it.

So now he found himself sipping a lukewarm coffee from the seventh floor machine, and staring at a towering pile of paperwork on his assigned desk. But on the bright side, the night shift meant the office was virtually empty and at least he didn’t have to fucking apologise.

Letting his desk chair sway side to side he aimlessly scrolled through the emails that poured in to his agency. Anything from fan mail to thanks from civilians. Grinning when he clicked on one that was obviously from a younger fan as they included a photo of themselves in full Dynamight merchandise in the email, talking about their favourite Pro-Hero and how much they wanted to be like him some day. Bakugou immediately made a mental note to get the kid a signed shirt as he saved the email into his personal inbox.

This was probably the only good thing about desk duty, other than the crippling boredom, having to file paperwork and assign sidekicks to mundane tasks like rescuing kittens from trees.

A loud sound broke his attention away from replying to an email about graffiti outside their local supermarket as he noticed a pretty woman with a headset over her head and a microphone to her cheek.

You’d been trying to get this annoying client to stop shouting at you for at least fifteen minutes, the attitude had started to become progressively worse as he complained about receiving compensation for propert destruction at the hands of Pro-Hero Dynamight and his sidekicks.

Your constant apologies landed on deaf ears as you tried to reason with the man, asking him to stop shouting at you as you felt tears of frustration begin to well in your eyes. Trying to remember to breathe as you wondered whether you’d get in trouble for simply hanging up—

Gasping in surprise when someone plucked the headset from the top of your head as you turned to look up at the Pro-Hero Dynamight standing behind you. A look of sheer annoyance on his face as he held one side of the headset to his ear to hear the man that had been shouting at you for the past ten minutes continuing to raise his voice on the line, clearly unaware that you were no longer listening to him.

“Listen, you prick. I don’t know why you think it’s acceptable to shout at my staff, but you better fix your fucking tone if you call back again.”

You heard a sound of recognition on the phone before the line went silent. You wondered whether the man had hung up out of embarrassment or sheer fear. Bakugou muttered “idiot” beneath his breath held the headpiece back to you, taking it wordlessly as he made his way back to his desk. Slumping back down into the desk chair as he began to sway in it side to side once more as he tried to avoid looking at the slow moving clock on the screen.

“You can take five minutes, you know.” Bakugou called across the room. The night shift at the agency was often quiet, when most people had gone home for the day— just how he liked it.

“I’m not sure I can with my boss watching me.” You smiled back softly, blinking back the tears that had clung to your thick lashes.

“I won’t tell if you don’t, sweetheart.” He scoffed.

Maybe desk duty wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#bakugou x reader

[t0rturedangel]

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐗 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ━ ♡

parental alphabet

I absolutely love creek it my favorite sp ship! Ive decided to write this out of sheer boredom and my love for creek. I hope you all enjoy !

A - affection

How affectionate are they to their child?

I feel like, while they absolutely love you, they wont be took affectionate, they'll defiantly give you hugs and stuff but not too much

B - Bullying

How would they react to their child being bullied?

Oh boy, the kid who bullied you better get ready for the biggest ass whooping ever.

I feel like Both Tweek and craig will over dramatic things to make the kids punishment very bad.

After you've told them you were / are bullied, craig will be talking to the headteacher: very clearly pissed while Tweek will be hugging you and comforting you

C - clingy

How clingy are they to their child? And vise versa

Despite them not being too affectionate, Tweek is defiantly clingy to you, having you in his arms practically always, he will never let you go any where by yourself. Rarely, when you're not in Tweeks arms you're by Craigs side

Due to your father's clinginess towards you, you also turn clingy to surprisingly both of your dads

D - Dating

How would they react to their child dating?

They both set the rule of 'No dating until you're 18' but you broke it by having a boyfriend when you were little (around 7 or 8) and while they were upset you broke the rule they found you and your boyfriend's playdates to be so adorable.

You also broke the rule when you were in your teenage years, multiple times.

E - education

How well do they educate their child?

Oh you're very well educated, thats because they sent you to the best school they could, they want you to grow up to be extremely successful

F - Family

Do they want you to meet their families?

Tweek doesn't really want you to meet his, since they might make you drink their coffee, and well we all know what they put in there.

Craig doesnt really mind you meeting his family, you gotta meet at least one of your grandparents right?

G - Goodies

What nice things do they buy their child? (E.G. toys, games)

They'll buy you little goodies when you've done something really good, like get a high score on a test or something.

Usually they get you stuff you've talked about liking before, they always make sure they remember what you said you've liked.

H - hate

How do they react to their child saying they hate them?

The first time you've told them you hated them was most likely during an argument in your teenage years.

You wanted to go to a party that all your friends were going to and they didnt let you, since those friends of yours were 'bad influences' so mid argument you yelled out a 'I hate you both!'

Tweek's heart broke and Craig got angry, sending you to your room. They probably both shed a few tears since they care for you so much.

Later though, you apologized and all was forgiven

I - Internet

How much to they limit their child's access on the internet?

They put on safe search and lock it, also put on parental locks. Though its annoying, they dont want your little head to be ruined with 18+ stuff that a little kid like you shoulnt be watching / reading

J - Jokes

Do they joke around with their kids? How bad are their jokes?

I dont think Tweek jokes a lot but Craig defiantly tells stupid classic dad jokes, that are pretty shit but not even gonna lie you laughed at some of them

K - killjoy

How strict are they? Do they allow their kid to go to things like parties?

They are quite strict, yeah. They wont let you to o to parties that go over 10 pm and will not let you do multiple things you friends' parents would.

L - leaving

How do they react when their child needs to leave? (E.G. move out / die)

If you were to move out and or go to uni, they would be very reluctant to let you go, but will the promise of you visiting as much as you could they let you.

If you died, however, they would be heartbroken beyond belief, Tweek would never be able to get over your death even with his husband's help and support. You mattered the world to him. Craig would never get over your death either but he'll try to move on, whats done is done, you're never coming back, even though he really wants you to come back.

M - motherly

Who's the most 'motherly' to their child?

Oh Tweek is defiantly more motherly to you out of the two.

N - Nicknames

What nicknames do they give thier child? And vise versa

Tweeks nicknames for you are :: Sweetie (very rare that he calls you that though) , kiddo.

Craigs nicknames for you are :: Kid, little shit, mini me.

Your nicknames for the both of them are :: Dad, da, pops, papa (when you want something)

O - Overprotective

How protective are they of their child?

Oh yeah, they're quite overprotective, especially Tweek. Like this man will go mental if you're out of his sight for even a second, what if you get hurt!? what if someone takes you away!? what if-

P - Punishment

How would they punish their child?

They're very classical with their punishments, so you'd be grounded and be in time out for punishments.

Q - quality time

How much time do they spend with their child?

Thye try their best to spend good quality time with you but sometimes they simply dont have the time (which is actually surprising due to Tweeks practical need of being around you to keep you safe and happy and Craigs devoted love for his husband)

R - Rebel

How would they react if their child rebelled against them?

they'd try to catch you in the act of rebelling in whatever way you are and ground you on the spot, no 'buts' no arguments you're grounded go to your room .

S - swears

Do they let their kids swear?

Despite Tweek's thoughts against it, Craig teaches you to flip people off from a young age, thats just a necessity.

You usually get in trouble for flipping people off so much, you're truly Craigs kid

T - talk

How often do they have a meaningful conversation with their child?

again, they both try to have meaningful conversations with you but they (again) dont have the time sometimes

U - Uhmm

What do / did they find awkward when around their child?

The puberty talk and the sex talk.

Without a doubt they'll defiantly feel extremely awkward talking to you about these things

V - violence

Would they be violent to their child?

Absolutely not!

Never in a million years would they be violent to you. Sure they'll accidently hurt you when play fighting or giving you a smack round the head for screaming 'fuck' in public but they'd never hit you on purpose for no reason.

W - word

What was their child's first word

You first word was probably, most likely, ' Tweet '

You were trying your best to say your dad's name since you heard your other dad say it so many times

X - Xaroncharoo

How brilliant do they think their child is?

They know you're a brilliant child and will argue with mums and all that about it.

Y - Yelling

Would they yell at their child?

No, they absolutely refuse to yell at you, even when you're yelling at them for some thing.

Z - Zesty

Would they support their child if they were apart of the LGBTQ community?

I mean, they're part of the LGBTQ community, so it'd be really weird if they didn't support you.

I feel like they'd buy you a cake and have a little celebratory moment with you for coming out

They love you so much and want you to know it.

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋 - 9/10, very good parents

#𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 - ♡ #south park x reader #creek #creek hcs #creek sp #x reader #child reader #creek x child reader #craig tucker #Tweek Tweak #Tweek and Craig x Child reader #parental alphabet #i cant do this anymore #PLEASE GIVE ME SOUTH PARK REQUESTS

[enquiringangel]

Family Dinner

for @themarginalthinker who wanted Max introducing Lucy to his Boys. Some David/Michael and vague David/Michael/Star because I am weak, lol.

When Max told him of his plans to turn some woman he met and her two kids, David got it. He was lonely once too. Before his boys came along, it had been just the two of them for a good thirty years.  And Max was many things, but entertaining company? Definitely not one of them. It was like living with an undead accountant. By that point David had seriously begun to wonder if it was possible for an immortal to die of sheer boredom.  

In his own way, Max had understood this. Though he got annoyed with him whenever David had been too messy or too obvious with his kills, in the very next moment he would dismiss it as ‘the impetuousness of youth’. And when David had come back to their lair one night unable to stop gushing about this guy he’d met down by the docks and how fun it had been to watch this scrappy kid defend himself with a crowbar against five guys and win, Max had studied him curiously and asked, “Would you like a brother, David?”  

The rest was history. Max had given him Marko, then later Dwayne, then Paul, and boredom and loneliness had become a thing of the past. So yeah, he could understand Max wanting to have someone on his own wavelength for company through eternity. That didn’t mean Max’s whole ‘let’s play happy families’ shtick wasn’t ridiculous though. He didn’t need mothering. That ship had long set sail. 

Still, Max was pretty insistent on them coming along tonight. “I’ve already told her about you,” he said, in response to the Boys’ complaints about wasting a perfectly good Friday sitting around a table and playing house when they could be off doing things that were actually fun. “Lucy said she would like to meet you all properly. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint her by turning up without you.” Despite their maker’s mild words and genial tone, the look in his eye made it very clear that their presence at this family dinner was not a request.  

"Besides,” Max continued. “Her boys will be there. This will be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know each other better.” 

The four younger vampires had all exchanged smirks, since they felt that they were already getting to know Michael pretty well on their own. But David wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with him. There was a wildness hiding behind that Joe-normal façade. A darkness. David wanted to crack Michael open and taste it.  

Michael, he had decided, was even worth sacrificing a Friday night for. When he had shared this opinion with the boys, they had all teased him something rotten.  

Assholes, he thought affectionately as he glanced across at Marko and Dwayne who were crammed in the back seat with him. Paul had called dibs on shotgun to have control over the radio; Max insisted they were all going in his car instead of taking their bikes, but that didn’t mean they had to be subjected to Barry Manilow the entire way. Paul was currently slapping his thigh and singing along to Poison’s ‘Talk to Dirty to Me’. In the interest of keeping the peace, Max endured this in a long-suffering way, other than to keep turning the volume down. Whenever his attention was on the road, Paul would surreptitiously turn it back up again.  

Max drove along a rutted track until they came to a lodge-style farmhouse, the yard decorated with lots of wooden carvings. The boys had been here before of course, when they had dropped Michael home after their fun proved a little too much for his fledgling self to handle. They unfolded themselves from Max’s car, while their maker fussed around straightening out the wrapping on the bouquet he’d brought with him and adjusting his tie.  

The boys were dressed in their preferred style, though Max had demanded Dwayne put a shirt on for the occasion, something that Dwayne had complied with in malicious silence. The black t-shirt was Paul’s, meaning it was a size or two too tight, hugging Dwayne’s pecs. Across the front in white letters were emblazoned the words: ‘GUITARISTS FINGER BETTER.’ Max appeared not to have noticed. 

“Now boys, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to be on your best behavior,” Max warned as he led them to the front door. The thoughts that streamed into David’s head were a reminder of what awaited them should they fail to do so: a few weeks spent clawing at the lining of a coffin buried in a shallow grave, with wild roses laid on the lid to stop them breaking out. Max had a very literal interpretation of ‘grounding’. 

One day old man. One day, David vowed, careful to keep the thought to himself.  

Just as Max raised his fist to knock on the door, who should open it but Michael? 

The half-vampire looked astonished to see them. “David?” he blurted out, ignoring��Max’s attempt to greet him as if he wasn’t even there. “Guys? What are...wait.” He flicked his eyes between the four motorcycle-riding punks and the unassuming and badly dressed man in a suit and did the necessary math. “...this guy’s your dad?” In the bond blooming between their minds, David could hear Michael’s confusion over the fact that the gang had apparently been serious when they called each other brothers. ‘They don’t look anything alike...’ 

“We’re all adopted,” Marko put in helpfully, answering the unspoken question.  

Max cleared his throat. He was smiling, but if you knew him you could see there was definitely an edge to it. “That’s correct. Hi, you must be Michael.” He extended a hand in greeting. 

Michael didn’t take it, instead looking Max coolly up and down. “And you must be Max,” he said, sneering faintly.  

Max was spared from further awkwardness by the sound of heels tapping rhythmically on the carpet and the appearance of a smiling woman with short red hair. “Michael? Is there someone at—Oh, hi!” she said, hurrying over. Lucy smiled at him, before turning her attention to the four (seemingly) young men standing on the doorstep. For a moment her smile faltered slightly and as he met her eyes David could hear her thoughts loud and clear. ‘These are the boys who were in the video store a few nights ago...why would Max kick them out if they’re his sons?’ 

This lady’s smart. Guess it skipped a generation, David thought to himself. But Michael was pretty enough that it didn’t matter, he supposed. 

He gave her his most winning smile.  “Hi. You must be Lucy, we’ve heard so much about you. I’m David.” He clasped one of her hands like she was one of the debutantes he had never been allowed anywhere near as a human, and brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles. A quick glance at Michael told him that the other boy looked like he was either going to have an aneurism or punch him in the face again - it was fantastic. 

Lucy laughed, delighted. “My goodness, what a charmer! Max, you’re raising a heartbreaker,” she teased, still chuckling. 

“I try,” David said, smiling impishly. “This is Dwayne, Paul and Marko.” He nodded to each and the boys greeted her in turn, Dwayne with a nod and one of his bedazzling smiles, Marko with a grin and a little wave, and Paul with a brief hug and a kiss to each cheek, continental style.  

“I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” Lucy exclaimed, stepping back from the doorway so that they could file past her. “Please come inside, all of you. Michael honey, are you going out or coming in?” she added. 

Michael blinked; he had been staring at David so intently that when he tore his gaze away there was almost an audible rupture. “Hm? Oh right. Yeah, I was just leaving."  

Michael’s thoughts were full of Star, and it made David grit his teeth. He was not jealous; that was ridiculous. They were both his, and he didn’t mind Michael fucking her. But they could’ve at least had the courtesy to invite him to join them. 

(Okay, so maybe he was slightly miffed that Star had gotten a taste of Michael before him. Just a little.) 

“Aw, you’re not going are you Michael?” Marko asked as he stepped past Michael into the house.  

“Yeah, come on you gotta stay man.” Paul gave Michael a friendly shove, and then was quickly distracted by the novelty of his reflection in the hallway mirror. He drifted over to it. 

“You could give us a tour,” Dwayne suggested, poking at a taxidermied beaver smoking a cuban cigar.  

“That’s a good idea,” Lucy agreed, eager to have Michael stay for dinner with them all. And pleased that they already appeared to know one another and to get along so well. Max presented her with the flowers and she led him off into the dining room to go and put them into some water. 

Michael appeared torn. He wanted to see Star, yes, but the thoughts continuously leaking across into David’s mind revealed that what he actually wanted more than anything else was answers. Star hadn’t actually told him anything, and had in fact protested tearfully that she couldn’t, and that she didn’t know how to help him. But David had done this to him, hadn’t he...so maybe he could help put it right again. 

David looped his arm around Michael’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Come on, Michael. Stay. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about,” he said, eyeing Michael meaningfully. His lips curled into a grin.  

After a moment, Michael nodded and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him.  

((The Boys 5 minutes later: *all jockeying for position at the mirror and standing there pulling funny faces and cracking up at the novelty. The line about Max's interpretation of 'grounding' was inspired by @marypsue's brilliant fic 'look for something left in this world'.))

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #david tlb #paul tlb #marko tlb #dwayne tlb #michael tlb #max the lost boys #my writing stuff #david x michael emerson

[katscki]

just watched a movie were this boy jumped into the end of the pool and he cant swim and made the life guard (whos a girl) jump in and save him and give him mouth to mouth. he has my respect and i now knw what to do when i go to the pool or at boxing <3

omg i was gonna do a fic like this a while back and then i forgot about it!!!! YOU SMART LITTLE THING YOU SMOOCH SMOOCH SMOOCH

High Tides

barely edited sorry and the name kinda doesn’t fit bc it isn’t at a beach but i liked it so i’m keeping it 😤‼️

lifeguard!bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 797

You had thought that coming to the new town pool would be a total drag this summer, but how can you not go back when he’s there.

masterlist

You had come here out of sheer boredom. Of course, this wasn’t your first place to spend your summer vacation from college, but all your friends were either still at school or on trips far away from home. Hanging out with your parents wasn’t an option even if you had wanted it to be because they worked day and night.

You hadn't intended on swimming only coming to tan so you lay out your towel on one of the lounging swim chairs rather than the itchy grass counterpart. But before you yourself could lay down with it, a blonde tuff of hair caught your eye. The strange hairdo piqued your interest enough to let your eyes wander further down to see the tall muscular body attached. You continued to ogle him whiles he was turned away only snapping him out of your gaze when he turned to you.

You were never one for showy bikinis, but you decided to wear one today to cover the most ground when you sunbathed, and you have never been so happy with a decision in your entire life.

Bakugou turns back around to Kirishima to resume their conversation, “Her? Yeah, she’s hot so what? Probably wasn’t looking at me anyways, shitty hair.” He said gruffly.

“Are you KIDDING ME?! She was practically undressing you with her eyes man, cut the nonchalant tough boy act, you know you think she's pretty. I mean commmee onnn if I were you, I would be all over that, not stop being a little pissboy and get her number!” Kirishimas enthusiastic tone didn’t do much to calm his nerves.

“Maybe later, my breaks almost over.” He mumbles before returning to his stand.

About twenty minutes ago you had decided to switch to lying on your back to tan your front but the sun beating down on you was becoming more and more noticeable by the second, practically sweating bullets.

Finally, the heat was too much for you to ignore, so maybe a dip in the pool wouldn’t be so bad. Making your way over to the edge of the pool you sat first then slowly slipped in. Trying to look good just in case there were lingering eyes from a certain someone. You swam out a bit just enjoying the coolness of the water until some stupid kid jumped in without even looking in front of him kicking you clear in the stomach when he came in.

You would feel embarrassed if it weren't for the growing feeling of being winded taking over. The lack of air making it to your lungs as you struggled to breathe, making it increasingly difficult to keep yourself up, ultimately letting you pass out in the water.

Bakugou saw the entire thing making a move to go scream at lecture the kid for what he did before he noticed you laying limp in the water. He blew his whistle yelling for everyone to get out of the water when he dove in and carried your smaller than his, seemingly lifeless form out of the water.

When you had woken up from lack of consciousness, you saw him kneeling above you, his face so close to yours, like he was going to perform mouth to mouth one more time. Everyone was quiet except one person. You look over to your side to see the red-haired lifeguard lecturing the child about looking before they jump. You would have kept your gaze there due to tiredness if it weren't for bakugou gently moving your head back to face him.

“You alright? Shit... I mean of course you're not, you almost just drowned-” He silently scolds himself for his awkwardness. But you paid no mind to his stumbling words, only the low baritone of his raspy voice, and the feel of his hand on your face.

He continued to look down with furrowed brows, confliction visible in his features, it’s only when you speak with the prettiest voice he’s ever heard does he forget about it. “Yea I'm okay. Thanks to you at least.” You smile at him and in the background hear everyone resuming their aquatic activities now that you're awake. You sit up to make your throbbing head feel better when he speaks again, “s my job. Any of us woulda done it, plus I probably would have gotten sued if I didn’t.” He joked

“Well don’t I feel special,” You giggle. “My um my name’s Y/N by the way.”

“You can call me Katsuki,” He leans down to whisper in your ear so no wandering ears can listen, “And I'm sorry, maybe I can take you out for dinner, somewhere real nice, make you feel special then.”

You turn your head to lock eyes with him again, “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

TAGS 🏷:

@trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana

#mha #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #fanfic

[daintyduck99]

 “you still wear that little bracelet i made you?” “it’s like my good luck charm..”  screams any Julie ship to me.

This is also for @invisibleraven, who asked for the exact same prompt!

Julie sits on her freshly made bed, patting the covers with a soft little smile.

If she squints, it looks exactly the same, adorned with a floral quilt from abuela and a battered pillow, plus the book she brought for security purposes, which honestly haven’t changed since she was a child (staving off boredom, the inability to sleep, or trouble making friends).

She never did need to crack it open back then, and she doubts she will now.

Though the cabin isn’t the one she used to stay in, it’s also incredibly similar, barring the artwork on the walls. Even the busted AC hasn’t changed, and she has to huff a laugh as she gathers her hair into a ponytail, hastily getting it off of her neck. She plucks at her thick camp t-shirt.

A trio of masculine voices floats through the nearest window as she forces it up.

“Dude, I don’t think this is our cabin.”

“It has to be! I know this place like the back of my hand!”

She smothers a giggle at the whuff of a hearty sigh before the third guy says, “Okay…”

And she gives them a cheeky grin when they waltz through the door.

“Unless your name is Kayla, I don’t think this is your cabin.”

Two of them stammer apologies, but the guy in the middle just gawks at her, slack-jawed.

A slap on the arm from the sleeveless guy to his left prompts the gawker to close his mouth, but his eyes are still big and bright and fixed on her.

They’re the second prettiest shade of green she’s ever seen.

He takes a tentative step into the room.

“Julie?”

She’s on her feet instinctively, racing toward him, and it all rushes back: the faint field of freckles blanketing his nose, his crooked grin and his bright, melodic laugh, his stories and his accent and the silly songs they’d make up. Feathery dark hair that he was always pushing out of his face and how pink he’d turned the one time he let her clip it back, studding it with equally pink butterflies, his ever-fidgeting hands.

Those pretty green eyes.

He folds her into his arms and she knows.

“Reggie!”

He graces her ears with that laugh she remembers so well, squeezing her tight.

"I can't believe—it's really you!"

"I can't believe you haven't introduced us to your hot friend yet," Sleeveless drawls.

The other guy snorts as she and Reggie sheepishly unravel. He's tall and blond, with piercing blue eyes.

"Okay, well, I'm Alex. And I assume that this isn't cabin fourteen."

Julie nods dazedly. "Opposite end."

Sleeveless clicks his tongue, turning to Reggie with a shit-eating grin.

"Before you say anything," Reggie rushes to say, "I just got everything flipped. And I didn't know Julie would be here! But technically—"

He flashes his wrist, and she nearly gasps.

A worn purple bracelet lives there, no longer too large but snug against his skin.

"That's my first wife, so show some respect."

She swallows, struck more sharply with nostalgia, the sheer sentimentality of it all.

"You still wear that little bracelet I made you?"

"Come on, Luke," Alex interrupts, half-dragging him out the door, "I'm going to prove that I know where you're supposed to be."

Their bickering tapers off. Reggie clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I mean, I usually carry it on me instead. It's silly, but—it's like my good luck charm. All those summers—you really were my first, you know?"

Julie melts. She takes him by the hand.

She flips her suitcase open to show him the red bracelet sitting on the very top.

"Yeah. Trust me, I do."

As it turns out, she's his only wife, which everyone coos about when they make it official a few summers later.

#childhood friends to lovers prompts #rulie #reggie x julie #ficlets with ash #yes Luke has mutilated his camp shirt already #julie and the phantoms

[high-and-away]

FFXIVWrite 2022, Prompt #17: Novel

[DEFINITELY NOT CANON. I was struggling to fill prompts.] There are rules - written and unwritten - for engaging with the Crown Prince. Stand and salute. Address him by his proper title. Obey without question. Represent your legion proudly in front of your liege. (Do not speak more than absolutely necessary. Do not hold eye contact. Do not fawn or grovel. Above all, do not bore him.) His visitations carry the same uneasy aura as coming upon the tracks of a prowling tiger: knowing that something hungry and dangerous is close nearby, and that the only knowledge of exactly where will come when it pounces. It is no small relief to the rank and file of the XIIth that he mainly confines his dealings to their commanders, and that he seems to care nothing for having them assemble in formation to see the military might he ostensibly wields. Really, it could be worse. He spends most of his time in Theodoric's old palace in the city proper, and does not demand princely luxuries or men to slaughter for his amusement or pretty girls to fan him in the heat and offer to feed him grapes.

But the stories - everyone knows the stories. The cautionary tales. He may not be a rabid animal, but everyone has heard things. Unfortunately for Victoria oen Castellus, she fails to hear when she really, truly should. By the time she registers the heavy armored footfalls approaching the patch of shade where she's lounging nose-deep in a book, Zenos yae Galvus is already looming over her, and the shade grows that much darker. He's massive, standing above her like this; were she on her feet, she'd have to tilt her head back to look him in the face. His grotesque helm sits tucked almost casually in the crook of one elbow. Eight fulms tall, or close to it. The sheer monstrous size of him is intimidating enough. Worse still is that he's beautiful, full lips and a striking aquiline nose, delicate eyelashes longer than her own; he reminds Victoria of a statue she saw once of a voidsent who tempted men to ruin, a lovingly sculpted image of something deeply foul. As she desperately scrambles to her feet and fumbles her way into a salute, there is nothing she can read behind his pale blue eyes, and in her moment of panic Victoria feels a brief flash of shame at the idea she's about to be killed for insubordination by a man who seems so bored. "Your Radiance, I--" But he's not looking at her, not really; his gaze has settled on the book she's gripped tightly in one hand and hasn't had time to hide behind her back, and he tilts his head a little like a dog confronted with an unfamiliar sound. "Torquatus's latest," he says, in a voice higher than Victoria expected, his tone neutral. "Another of his epics. Glorious victories against great evils, exulting in them and celebrating the clash of blades and hearts burning brightly together in the fires of war." Finally, he looks her in the eye, the inscrutable mask of his boredom cracked a fraction by a slightly raised eyebrow. "Stirring, is it not?" Somehow, Victoria finds her voice; if she's dead anyway, she can at least offer one fucking literary opinion before he hacks off her head. "I-- think he gets caught up in crafting the details of his setting sometimes, Your Radiance. Of fleshing everything and everyone out. And I think his pacing suffers a little because of it. But-- stirring is a good word for it, Your Radiance. Or evocative." Galvus is silent for a moment, and Victoria tries to be subtle about bracing herself for the blade before a cryptic little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "A fine choice," he says, sounding almost amused. "As was your candor." His features settle back into immaculate detachment, and his gaze goes flat again as he waves a dismissive hand and turns to walk away. "As you were." After he's out of sight, it takes a surprising amount of effort to walk back to the barracks instead of running. The feeling of fangs just barely brushing her throat doesn't fade until the Crown Prince departs the next morning.

#FFXIVWrite #FFXIVWrite2022 #if you were a disposable enemy henchman you'd be scared shitless of Zenos too #dude's scary as hell if you don't have plot armor #fighting a monster is one thing #working for one is another #so yeah he freaks her the fuck out #anyway yeah I kind of went 'fuck it why not' #because I couldn't think of anything else #I usually avoid having my character in proximity to canon characters like this #my writing #local woman has writing backlog: more at 11

[courtoftheclueless]

Scarred but Not Broken

All things take time to heal, and healing is not always forward. Sometimes steps are taken back even as we try our best.

AN: So here is the first writing on this blog. And yep, it's for Pretty Boy. At this point, It's basically finished (I cannot think of a better ending for it) and is fairly... weird in regards to explaining things about my Self Insert. But, here we go. Hope y'all enjoy it.

The apartment was still strange to them. The windows faced east as opposed to their old western facing windows. The sounds of Washington were different from their comforting lull of a half used back-highway in a small part of a low population province. Even the bed and bedding was different- not enough plush or weight to it.

It was an improvement from… before however. From the month that they spent in the Valley, when the Plaga was trapped in them, starved and dead. It felt like the dirt that beneath their skin would never go away, but the showers in the week since had helped. The long, exceptionally hot, baths helped them feel human again. A haircut helped to even out their hastily chopped strands, though they lamented the loss of their long hair.

It was a necessary sacrifice.

The steam from the bathroom flooded out, and the light of the sunrise caused a glare that blinded them for a moment. Their footsteps were quiet, far quieter than the upstairs neighbors who they swore must wear work boots at all hours of the day. And the stillness of the apartment was undisturbed.

In the daylight, it was easier to remember that they were safe. The night had been long, with their mind warning them against sleeping in a bed. The Ganados- the cultists- always returned to their beds. It was comfortable, yes, but unsafe.

Sleep never came, even after they curled up in a blanket bundle in the closet.

But humans were born for the sunlight. And they refused to deny themselves that. Refused to deny themselves the nature which they sought to return to.

The living area of the apartment was open concept. The kitchen was a small galley one, that they swore they bumped into either side of the counters whenever they turned, with the outer counter looking over the living and dining room. Dining was a bit strong of a word, the small table hardly big enough for the two occupants of the apartment, and the living room so sparse that they swore that it echoed.

A pan is set on the oven, and the makings for breakfasts were slowly pulled from the fridge. Their… roommate was probably the most accurate description for the sheer chaos that had happened- their roommate seemed to stock only the bare minimum. The thought of him helped to keep them occupied as they started to make the scrambled eggs.

Leon was… It was complicated. He seemed like a good man. A dedicated one, certainly. Who took his job seriously but wasn’t afraid to crack jokes to ease the tension. A handsome one to boot. In less, egregious circumstances he would have been a great life partner.

Their eyes first catch on the gold plated band around their left hand’s ring finger. It was pristine, not even three days old, and uncomfortable. Both in what it represented and how it rubbed against the burn scarred flesh of their arm.

And then they cannot tear their eyes away from the flesh of their left arm. Once it was pale and dotted with moles along it. Twenty seven of them, if their count was accurate. Never something they did for a reason, just boredom. Something they could no longer do.

Now it was red. An angry red, with a texture that sometimes they could not reconcile with human flesh as much as they could jerky. It was supposed to be impressive that they could still move it despite the damage done, but they almost wished that it would have needed to be amputated. Maybe if it had, they wouldn’t have been forced into a marriage for a green card to work for a government not their own. Maybe if they were down an arm, they wouldn’t have had to survive the Valley and the Plagas where none of their friends did.

Six Doctors. Four Lawyers. Three General Scientists. Three Artists. Two Ecologists. One Teacher.

Nineteen hikers dead. Nineteen university students out of a group of twenty. Six Doctors who would never help a patient. Four Lawyers who never got to make their arguments against the cruelty of the law. Three Scientists worth of papers that would never be published. Three Artists’ works are forever unknown to the world. Two Ecologists that never got to help the planet. One Teacher who would never inspire the next generation.

The scars along their left side burned, only hurting more on their face when the tears ran along the indent on their cheek and jaw. The arm- burnt and should be unfeeling- shook as they couldn’t breathe anymore. The Plaga in their chest contracted, squeezed around their lungs and forced the air out. Tried to stop their heart because if it couldn’t control them then they needed to be burned at the sta-

“Charlie.”

Hands grasped at them, and they shook. It wasn't enough to shake off the hands. They shouldn't have been so visible. They were safer in the forest, they needed to be away from the village and needed to hide, they needed to escape-

"Charlie." Hyperventilated breaths were pressed against a chest, and they knew the end was coming. The gentle hands were going to stop stroking their hair and try to tear out their organs like they were one of the cows. More tears blurred their vision and they silently prayed to whatever God was up there that the next life be better. "We're safe, Charlie."

Legs surrounded them, their entire body weight leaned against the one who had them. He- his voice was a he and he was strong and that would hopefully mean their death would be quicker- treated them gently for the moment. A soft kiss pressed to their hairline. A seal of their fate, they were certain.

And he hummed, their ear pressed against his chest. It was a tactic to try make them less observant. To silence them to the other Ganados. But their ear didn't pick up the rattling sound of the Plaga in his chest. And an odd scar pressed against their ear.

A vertical line, like Luis had.

Their breath slowed a bit. The sticky and wet egg mix that was on the floor had seeped into their pajama pants, and their body shook from adrenaline. But it was still hard to see, hard to hear, hard to know exactly where they were or if it was a dream or not.

A strong arm lifted their legs and slung them over one of the man's as if they weighed nothing. Their legs were still-life, body weight still low from their month in Spain.

Because they weren't in Spain anymore.

"Where?"

Their mind was still… wrong. Still not able to entirely register what was real and what was imaginary. What was a memory and what was moment.

"Washington." The word mumbled against their hairline, the man's voice rumbled against their side. His hands came around them- shielded them against whatever was outside the small nook kitchen. Left hand over theirs, his ring rubbing against theirs. "In our apartment in Washington."

His skin was clear. While not soft- Leon's job did not allow him to be soft- he was still not nearly as banged up as them. Their much smaller one looked like an anger projected onto his skin.

But he made exaggerated breaths, their own breaths mirroring his. The soft feeling of his on their head helped to calm them down.

"I'm sitting in eggs, aren't I?"

And he laughs a bit, probably from the absurdity and slightly dazed voices that they spoke in.

"We're sitting in eggs." As if to make his point, his legs shifted. Blocked off more of the potential danger from them. "You, uh, might need to have a shower again."

"Probably."

#the courts documents #ship name pending #the survivor #tag for self insert I guess #look man #i want to start actually posting my writing #hope y'all enjoy #because I will largely just be writing domestic fluff and angst because I cant write action

[yama951]

Site 204, Sinnoh Region, 2022 AC

Elesa was fortunate she was with Emmet during their quarantine or Emmet might have gone breaking walls open due to sheer boredom.

At least they used the time between the same counting and listing tests to watch some I-Files for better understanding of what’s going on. The rooms they’re in were meticulously designed so that nothing is more than two. Apparently the Missing Number incursion only appears in any set that has more than two.

Given Giratina’s comments, it made the Missing Number come off as very insistent on being between two and three that it doesn’t want to be the last in line. The whole thing was ridiculous, absol-lutely ridiculous, for a number to be such a picky brat. It’s a number, in Elesa’s opinion as they watched the I-Files episode about it, it was like considering the color magenta as a person and asking it for its favorite tea blend.

“I am Emmet. We have been here for weeks.”

“At least a few days, Emmet.”

“This place is too plain. Too septic. Too bare. It’s all white and gray. It feels so wrong.” Emmet said, stretching his black clawed hand, struggling not to scratch the floor.

“Well, they have to make sure there’s nothing more than two. At least Giratina helped with the check up. Apparently, I was seeing a color that wasn’t there between orange and yellow. The ICRS were worried there might have been a person that wasn’t there given that there were four people in the room.”

“We were lucky it didn’t decide to be the Erd progenitor dragon then.” Emmet muttered with a huff of smoke from his nose.

“Uhh…” Elesa eloquently commented at the sight. “Please don’t go all fire breath on us.”

“I am Emmet. Fire breath is Reshiram’s power. I breathe out lightning.” he said before Elesa tossed her pillow at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I sing the song of storms upon thee. I smite thee with bolts of lightning. I shall grant thee visions of futures that will and shall and must be. I will wiggle thine black caboose doth upon thine mortal skies.”

Emmet’s face turned red as he just went to cover his embarrassment with both hands.

“I am Emmet. I have my pride. I have little control over the way I speak when pulling on Zekrom’s power.”

“Fair. Honestly we’re lucky you could speak in something we could understand and not like dragon language or something.” Emmet chuckled at that.

“Ah yes, Miss Sudowoodo Road.”

Elesa simply threw another pillow at Emmet.

Then a buzzing noise was heard.

“Okay, as part of the procedure, can Mr Emmet be in the next room while we do the last test for Miss Elesa?” Nurse Joy’s voice spoke through the speaker. Emmet nodded as Elesa paused the video. Once he went to wait at the bathroom and locked the door, Nurse Joy entered and closed the door behind her.

“I must thank you both on behalf of the ICRS for being patient with the procedures.” she said as Elesa listed out the set of berries placed on the table.

“Cheri berry, Rawst berry, Pecha berry, and Chesto berry.” Elesa said. “It’s understandable. If the I-Files video about it was accurate, it’s basically a herald of cosmic horror insanity.” Nurse Joy then rearranged the berries.

“I’m pretty sure the I-Files is already the basic publicly allowed info on the topic.” she said as she pointed at the berries.

“Chesto berry, Rawst berry, Cheri berry, and Pecha berry.” Elesa answered. “So you know deeper secrets of the ICRS then?” she joked.

“A bit but I tend to work with pokemon than whatever cutting edge research the organization does. If it helps, I’m also a member of the ethics committee.” Nurse Joy said as she rearranged the berries once more.

“Cheri berry, Chesto berry, Pecha berry, and Rawst berry.”

Nurse Joy then glanced at her paper and sighed in relief.

“Good news, you are incursion free. Fortunately your pokemon also has a clean bill of health. The Missing Number could have seriously messed with the data and energy of the pokeballs but it seems it was too focused on other things to infect and corrupt them.” Nurse Joy said as she placed a tray of pokeballs on the table. Elesa called them out just to see for herself personally, resulting in a pokemon cuddle pile, grateful that they’re all okay.

She and her pokemon were then made to leave the room so Nurse Joy could do her tests for Emmet. At least she was told that she’ll have to go to the meeting room about the situation and was given directions to the place.

Emmet’s test was mostly the same, though added with questions on his mental health and physical changes.

“I have some experience with something like this.” Nurse Joy said as she carefully looked at Emmet’s draconic hand, feeling it. “Research on the Reburst phenomenon is rare but some scientific research on it was done and I have met some of the Reburst Rangers team. We believe it’s connected to mega stones but more concentrated energy than blended, a single soul than multiple of the same kind of pokemon. This change is similar to the Zekrom Black Reburst Ranger but also different. Zekrom Black’s scales don't blend with his claws while yours does. There’s also a color difference on him while yours are equally black…”

“I am Emmet. Maybe it’s because the progenitor Zekrom and I are technically the same being?”

Nurse Joy sighed at that.

“I honestly can’t say. I am trained as a pokemon doctor and have some experience when pokemon illnesses and effects happen on humans. Metaphysical things like being both a human and a legendary pokemon somehow? It’s honestly beyond me. Your medical check up came out normal, at least. Though your energy readings…”

“Just tell me directly, Nurse Joy.”

She sighed.

“Technically, the amount of elemental energy flowing through you now means you count as a Dragon and Electric type, though more on the electric type, likely due to your history with electric pokemon and getting the level of electric type energy needed to develop an immunity to paralysis.”

“I… I see. Is it dangerous?”

“Not really though you are in theory capturable in a pokeball, especially those without modern scanners like old fashioned apricorn balls. The likelihood is low given your current energy level, then again, it might be your current resting level and it’s possible that the elemental energy would spike up when you channel the progenitor Zekrom. But I must emphasize that this is just conjecture from what I know and some theories on the mega stone-burst heart connection. Your current status also has elements of spiritual channeling, and theurgy and magic are outside my field of expertise.”

“Some idea is better than no idea at least.” Emmet commented and Nurse Joy nodded in agreement as she placed a tray of pokeballs.

“At least your pokemon are healthy and show no sign of corruption. Once you’re ready, I’m told you must go to the meeting room. You can detour to the cafeteria if you want but I suggest not to keep them waiting for too long.”

Emmet nodded after greeting his pokemon before he left, seeing Elesa waiting for him. The two then went to the cafeteria for something much more filling to eat before heading to the meeting room.

There they saw Cynthia and Looker waiting as well as some other people both with ICRS tags and more older style clothing, not to mention Giratina in their Origin Form floating nearby, casually taking a sip of tea.

I never really understood my brother’s hedonism. Breaking practically all the rules we set in place just because they felt like it.

Giratina said as they lowered the teacup.

They have their reasons, of course. I just don’t see the logic in them. Selling extra space and the methods of creating pocket dimensions, sure, he rules over space and the laws that govern it so I let them do that. Wandering around the old Sacred Reality in multiple avatars, well, he did use that skill often. I never really bothered nor do I see the point, just like the old Sacred Reality I decided that I myself am to be singular in form as well. Though the nature of the Distortion World meant that I met different versions of myself, much to my annoyance back when I was recently given charge of the Distortion World and its pattern screamers and neverweres and all other things that should not exist.

Another sip as Elesa and Emmet noticed practically everyone in the room was writing stuff down, trying to be as non-intrusive as possible to let Giratina speak, or more accurately, rant.

Then my brother decided to give the knowledge of faster than light travel and communication all because he found it unfair for mortals to be able to see the universe and never have a chance to actually go there. Which broke time and causality which angered my other brother, and he’s the complete opposite of Palkia and I think he goes too far. The Sacred Reality was one reality defined by one set of laws under the managed flow of one timeline. Dialga wanted to compress, or at least put time itself on its Z axis, essentially overwriting the past with the present, the Temporal Tower he called it. It would have been under perpetual construction but I was against the whole concept because it meant that should there be errors to be corrected in the past of the Sacred Reality, there would have been no way to fix it and it would all come crashing down.

Giratina huffed.

Technically, the Temporal Tower collapsed due to Dialga having another temper tantrum and they just built it back up again. I lost count on how many times it collapsed or nearly collapsed. How Lady Fay kept her wits about her is a mystery to me. She and her celebi need a vacation, especially with the mess that is the multiverse piling up their workload. Then again, Palkia’s free spirited ways resulted in Lord Iblis rebelling, wanting to usurp the Spacial Realm for himself. A third of all hoopa went with him but they were defeated and were bound, sealed, and scattered throughout the Sacred Reality. It happened before I was given the Distortion World and the resulting splintering of the Sacred Reality into the current multiversal form.

Elesa noticed a spoon of rice and curry being floated into the air as Giratina ate it, not including the spoon, before said spoon was lowered on the table and they took another sip of tea to go with the meal.

But yes, my sibling’s hedonism… they certainly love to experiment…

Giratina then made a deadpan expression before rolling their eyes.

Some time after the fracturing of the Sacred Reality, they decided to visit me, suggesting that I should puppet an avatar or twenty and have fun. He planned out a whole itinerary of various possibilities, planets, and places to visit. They especially wanted me to see the Singing Towers of Darillium. Why should I bother going there personally when I could have formed a mirrored projection to see it from every angle in the Distortion World, I still have no clue. They then decided to make some food and drink to show why he found it all fun. That ended in disaster after I watch him drink his seventh neutronium and strangelet daiquiri through his three visiting mortal avatars and got drunk enough that he nearly broke a hole in existence between the Distortion World and a world that once physically exist known as Tlon, the reason why it no longer physically exist was due to Palkia’s shoddy repair job, deciding to just put the existence of the world to the layered Anima Mundi that is the Dream World and call that a job well done.

Giratina then finished their tea.

There’s a reason why I decided to keep myself away from intoxicants after seeing that near mess.

“I am Emmet. This is verrrrry interesting but not what we’re here for.” Emmet interrupted, much to almost everyone else’s momentary look of annoyance before begrudgingly agreeing and ending their recording and note taking.

Once everyone put their stuff away, the meeting properly began.

One of the ICRS people turned on a recorder.

“Please state your name and designation in the recording. We will start. I am Director Chronos of the International Consortium for Research and Security’s Temporal Division.”

“Director Dante of the ICRS’ Legendary Division.”

“Magister Verdant Expanse of the Prismatic Order.” some stares were made at the stereotypical looking wizard in the shimmering white robe. He huffed. “If you expect me to say my true name, good luck. I will not allow myself to be tracked or attacked either through technological or magical means.”

“Willroarer Red Claw of the Heralds of Pride.” a young woman in what looked like traditional Draconid clothing said, sometimes glancing at Emmet and Giratina with reverence in her eyes.

“Agent Looker of the International Police’s Unusual Incidents Unit.”

“Champion Cynthia of the Sinnohan Pokemon League.”

“Gym Leader Elesa of the Unovan Pokemon League.”

“Subway Master Emmet Jameni of the Unovan Railway Cooperative, and Zekrom Incarnate.” some momentary glances were made by the two directors and mages at the last bit.

Giratina, former God of Existential Order, current Warden of the Shattered Shell. Though I’m not sure if your recording instruments could capture this method of speaking.

“Let me repeat it just in case.” Cynthia suggested, to which Giratina nodded and she repeated his introduction.

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s start with what we know.” Director Dante began as they brought everyone to the same page with various documents as well as comments from Emmet, Elesa, and Cynthia on anything they missed.

“Fortunately, Professor Oak and his assistant were caught in time and the Missing Number incursion that infected them was dealt with. Though it did mean losing weeks of Oak’s research and some personal items due to the Missing Number affecting them and the lab. We can’t leave anything to chance. At least the incursion wasn’t strong enough to result in the warping of space-time.”

“That is fortunate.” the magister said with a nod. “Given Professor Oak’s influence in the formation and maintenance of the digital pokedex project, having the Missing Number infect that and all digital pokedexes would have been a disaster, even with rotom and porygon keeping watch in the digital space.”

“Yes. They’re currently both recovering and the lab is quarantined until we’re certain no trace of the Missing Number is in the area.”

Elesa read through the, still censored, file on the Missing Number, seeing new information that wasn’t in the I-Files episode like how a strange series of events requiring meeting an unknown old man in Viridian City then flying to Cinnabar Island then surfing on a certain area of its east coast would result in a Missing Number incursion. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the old man vanished and those who knew him remembered his strange off-magenta skin, which they only then realized was completely unnatural for someone to have, before they shrugged it off with an equally nonsensical mundane explanation.

Director Dante then placed the arceus themed phone on the table.

“The smartphone of Ingo Jameni, discovered in the wilderness of the Coronet mountain range, was formerly infected by the Missing Number until Emmet Jameni banished the Missing Number from it. Based on what we could tell, it’s been boosted to have unusual powers, including infinite battery, infinite memory space, a fully accurate map of planet with a zoom out function wide enough to include the universe, teleportation to sufficiently settled locations that we believe Ingo has went to, including places the phone alone has went to, and it can get signal even when it shouldn’t.” the director said, much to the shocked look at the magister and the herald.

“M-may I?” the magister asked with shaking hands.

“I am Emmet. Is there a reason why you want to touch my brother’s phone?”

That broke the magister out of his shock and cleared his throat.

“I can feel the power of the divine emanating from it and wish to have a closer look.”

“Clearly, if you could sense it from your seat, you could do so from there.” Emmet said, showing off his fangs in his smile. “It is my brother’s phone and too many people already went to peruse it when it should have been private.”

Cynthia at least had the modesty to look embarrassed at that.

“Temporal ethics in archeology aside,” she began. “We have some idea on what to do to resolve this right? Ingo is connected to the progenitor Reshiram, the evidence in his phone suggests he got sent back to the Hisui Era, so all we have to do is go back in time and get him back, probably after he dropped his phone to keep the time loop stable, and with that, the progenitor Reshiram would get better.”

In theory, it is that simple…

“If only it is that simple…” Cynthia remarked, knowing bad news when she hears it.

The Hisui Era is a period of time where the barriers between this world and the Distortion World are weak. Sinnoh is the region of space where the barriers between this world and the Distortion World are weak. The fact that the Missing Number infected his phone, which was itself blessed by the Original One, is itself a bad sign.

The two mages and the two directors began to pale at the implications.

“You’re saying it’s an incursion, a massive incursion.” the magister muttered out.

Given the nature of those that dwell within the Distortion World, we would be lucky if the timeline doesn’t shatter for a period or so. But yes. I fear that what we are looking at is not a side effect of my recklessness in my youth as it might have been but something much worse. An invasion, an invasion by those that should not be. And not just any invasion, but one that might overturn All That Is, perhaps even an attempt to tear down the Original One from their realm, back to the Cosmic Egg that was the Shattered Shell.

Giratina then glanced at Emmet.

And there’s no Original Dragon, no Dragon of Self-Evident Will, to prevent it.

#lucid twin dragons au #fanfic #world building #worldbuilding #pokemon fanfic #pokemon legends arceus #submas #fanfiction #my writing #submas au #giratina #pokemon cynthia #submas emmet #subway master emmet #emmet #pokemon elesa #gym leader elesa #nurse joy

[rubys-domain]

out of sheer boredom, i tried to clear (almost) every artifact domain with just bennett and kazuha. here are my findings:

viridescent/maiden's - electro cicin mage was annoying, but ultimately pretty easy clear

noblesse/bloodstained - took a bit longer to clear because pyro abyss mage, but otherwise fairly painless clear

blizzard strayer/heart of depth - lawachurl kicked me around, but it actually wasn't that bad. felt better than when using a hypercarry actually

tenacity/pale flame - got kicked around way more than in the previous domain. it doesn't feel good, but it does get the job done

shimenawa/emblem - basically the blizzard strayer domain but electro. surprisingly not as much overload knockback

husk/clam - bennett's healing helped a ton, even though i didn't build hp on him

gilded/deepwood - electro eremite was annoying. but enemies were human so it was a fairly quick clear

marechaussee/golden troupe - i mean it works... but it just takes too long for it to be worth it. meks are way too tanky

note: all these were tested with hydro resonance, so bennett had 19k hp and kazuha had 24k hp. (yeah for some reason three pieces with hp+hp% substats that weren't even rolled into really added up.) honestly it really only matters in the clam domain where there's corrosion. teammates were barbara and candace, both level 20. they were literally just there to collect friendship. which is the main reason i decided to try this — to see which domains i can use to farm friendship instead of being forced to use an actual team. turns out almost all of the ones i care about. i didn't bother with the domains i don't need to farm.

so yeah. that's how it went. gonna try this with the weapon and talent domains now

#⇢₊˚⊹ 🩷∥ruby∥yo，ide yo !!

[changesinattitudes]

Assumed dead, valued “crewmember” brought back to life!!

April 30, 2023 

More on this story and other breaking news right after this short message!

----------------------------------------->>>>>>>>>>>

 Made you look! 

Well, if I wrote for CNN or Fox that’s what the headline might have been. After all, it is all about the ratings and mine are in the tank. If I don’t get them up I might get fired. 

Not! 

You see, today I am writing out of boredom, and I hope to stay bored for the rest of the day and through the night. Boredom trumps sheer terror, which would be the dominant emotion if the anchor lets go of its grip on the bottom. See, it’s blowing 20-25 knots with an occasional gust to 27-28. We have a 2’ swell running through the harbor with a 1’ chop on top of that. And in a few hours we are expecting thunderstorms just to keep life interesting. 

Another day in the cruising lifestyle. 

The blow today has been in the forecast for a while so we decided to stay in Rock Sound a bit longer than we had planned. Rock Sound, while larger that a typical anchorage, is protected all around from ocean swells and has deep sand which makes for good holding for our anchor. So last night we put the dinghy away, double checked the anchoring gear and generally secured the boat for a rocky 24 hours. We als have also been joined (sourounded?) by about 20 other like minded cruisers seeking shelter from the coming blow. For a big anchorage it sure got crowded. 

The weather forecasts were pretty much spot on, it was calm overnight. So calm there was no breeze through the cabin and we needed to run our fans on high for comfortable sleep. Around 7 this morning, as if on cue, the wind and waves started to pick up. We needed to make water and since it was cloudy electricity as well so I started the generator. With the generator comes air conditioning. Ahhhhhhh. Since the boat was secure there was nothing left to do but play Backgammon. Many games of Backgammon. 

We had a bit of excitement later when the radio crackled to life asking if anyone was on channel 16. I replied and a conversation ensued about the dinghy making an unoccupied trip across the sound propelled by the wind and the waves. A good Samaritan cruiser (most are!) still had his dinghy in the water and saved the day, or rather the dink, by picking up the owner and taking him to his wayward dinghy. Another disaster averted. 

And now back to our lead in story. 

A couple of days ago our coffee maker died. Expired. Quit. Gave up the ghost. Not being able to make coffee is akin to not having a way to chill beer. We tried to make coffee via French Press. It was quite good but took forever, made a mess and only produced a cup and a half. In the cruising world that wasn’t going to cut it. We also tried making coffee by heating water and pouring it in the top of the dead coffee maker. That kind of worked but still wasn’t a great solution. 

So, this afternoon, with the free time the blow had given us, I took the coffee maker apart. The problem turned out to be the switch, and I had a suitable spare aboard! 

So with the steadiness of a surgeon while rocking in 2’ swells with a 1’ chop I removed the switch, modified the housing for the new switch, crimped new terminals on the wires and reassembled it. Next, I plugged it in.

It worked! 

I cant tell you how much I am looking forward to a good cup of coffee in the morning.

And moving on.

[exx-ceptional]

Lovebug x YOU.

Ignore this, its an oc thing man

Green= y o u

Purple= LB!!

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

LoveBug, the sweetest dice anyone will ever meet.

He's funny, happy, and really rebels agaisnt the 'stale formal Dice' thing, huh? But.. you cant help but feel worried about him. He's been abandoned by his own maker for being "Defective" per say.. but, how does someone still be so happy after that?

But today, you're gonna plan to give him a small gift- some nice goggles! He dosent really have that much stuff that he got from his manufacturer, so why dont you give him something?

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

Ah, there he was at his post in the facility, like always.

This time it was just him-! And you can see the sheer boredom and apathy LoveBug had towards being just by himself. He wanted something lively.. not this dull grey post he was at.

Until, you finally came up to him- giftbox in hand.

Lovebug was looking down tapping on the floor with his shoe when you suddenly came up to him with a big smile on your face.

"Oh, ohhhh.. my! [Y/N] You're actually here-? Didnt think someone would come back to this.. rotten, grey.. bland place." That little comment made you laugh a bit. It was true, its grey, lifeless... and not the best spot to visit always the time.

"I'm only here cause of you, LB." You reply gesturing to the giftbox with a soft smile.

"Aha, you flatter me- oh! Wait- is this for me?- Seriously?! You got me a gift.." LoveBug Takes the giftbox with open arms. You can hear the happiness in his sweet voice.

"Is- Are these my own goggles?- Woah.. Thank you so much! Ah, what would I do without such a wonderful visitor as you, [Y/N]?" LB quickly hugs you tightly- not to the fact it'll hurt.. it's just the right amount of squeeze.

You can kind of hear a bit of a sad tone in his voice.. seriously, he hasnt recieved any upgrades.. headgears or anything else new after that one.. thing with his manufacturer. It just made him so happy... it made him realize a bit, someone still does like him for his defective design.

"You're welcome LB. I felt like it would fit you, I mean- I promise that it'll look good on you! Cause come on, you'd look pretty nice with them. Since, I picked it out just to suit you- oh, here let me help you get them on that little cute dice head of yours."

You adjust the straps to the right size. Twisting, turning, and pulling the goggles just so it would look nice on LB. And honestly, It did-! The goggles goes well with his outfit.

"Aha, cute dice head? That's new coming from you, [Y/N]. Well, not like I mind.. I like it when you kinda call me that..- aha?.." There was an akward chuckle that came from the dice- There's a noticeable change in his tone. Its a bit more softer, lovey dovey, and warm.

"Ooh, Mister LoveBug Likes compliments, huh? Did I totally not expect that." You gave him back a playful laugh and nudge him a bit on his shoulder with a big smile while holding onto his dice head.

LoveBug was a bit taken by surprise when your hand somehow gets on his face. You can feel him kind of shake a bit- he was shy, nervous, and bashful about the entire thing. He enjoyed it, actually. But, he slowly pulled your hand down with a chuckle.

"Well, seems I'm buying someone a drink again after my shift, huh? Well, if you're still awake."

"Dont worry, I'll stay awake just for you. Alright?"

You reply with a soft smile looking at LB with playful eyes. Laughing at his statement.

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

You entered the bar.. it was about nearly two in the morning.

There he was, drunk and sitting on one of the stools- and of course you sit beside him with a bit of worry to see LoveBug drinking so much again.

"Hmh- Huuh.. oh! It'ss hic my beloved [Y/N].. agh- I'm sorry man that my shift hic ended so late. Hey, I'm still hic payin' for your drink yknow? hic Hey, barkeep get my friend over here some bourbon. It's the only thing they hic drink."

LoveBug laughs trying his best not to pass out on you..

He's currently free from his ordained vest and coat. He's just in his polo and tie- and up till now, he's still wearing those goggles you gave him.

"Mmmh.. Man, I love you soo much hic [Y/N]... You wont abandon me, hic right?"

Such a sad question. If only he was able to ask that to his maker in time. But, he doesnt need his manufacturer, not anymore.. now that you're here.

The sudden confession made you snap out of your thoughts and look back at LoveBug.

"...No, I'll never leave or abandon you.. I love you to, bud."

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

#oc #awhhhcutefluff #Itsjustocstuff #pleasedontlook #cringe #fiction #writing #x reader #angsty #fluff

[enigmaincrimson-personal]

So... I was thinking about Order of the Phoenix and well... how Evie would respond to um... "Professor" Umbridge.

Considering her rank, status, and ability, she probably would very gleefully sass right back.

Now... normally Evie's pretty subtle about things, but when she finds something to toy with that will amuse her for at least a little while... she's going to torture the thing until it breaks.

Like... rattling off an endless list of people and magical creatures that have no qualms about hurting children.

Using Umbridge's hand to fuel the blood quill. Evie doesn't exactly bleed, so the "ink" has to come from somewhere.

Joining the inquisitorial squad just to pass information on to Dumbledore's army... while wiggling it in front of her face that she's literally doing it out of sheer boredom.

Oh, and there's also that ever amusing point of pointing out that she could easily get her sent straight to Azkaban on a total whim and the Ministry of Magic can't do diddly squat.

The Lancaster group might be a corporation publicly, but it's a breeding ground for very terrifying and powerful people... and not the sort you'd want to mess with, even if you have a death wish.

Or to put things in other words, she'd totally turn into a sadistic menace who takes great pleasure over making Umbridge miserable for the rest of her born days... and the afterlife.

_

In any case, whether or not Evie would latch onto things and escalate really depends on whether or not she has the sense to give her a wide berth.

I mean... she can be annoying regularly, but give her a good reason and she becomes hell incarnate.