#i have never disliked a entertainment company this much-- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

throwaway-yandere · 5 months

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𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting.

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either.

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white.

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?"

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man.

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts.

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species."

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

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holdupjack · 6 months

Text

You're An Idiot…My Idiot

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Reader is a Ravenclaw

WARNING: Injury and awkward fluff

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

7th Year

Hermione sat in the bleachers with Luna as they watched the final Quidditch game of the season before the Championships. People cheered and booed all around them as they watched the Gryffindor VS Ravenclaw game.

Ron and Harry sped over the stands they kept their heads in the game, Harry soon took off towards another area as Ron stayed near the goal.

A flash of blue almost smacked Hermione in the face as it went by, but the familiar scent of a certain Ravenclaw made her eyes roll.

Y/n Y/l/n.

What was there to say about such a girl?

They weren't the best of friends, but they weren't enemies either. It's more like an artful dance of flirting and annoyance that they both have mastered around each other.

Hermione despised her arrogant and cocky attitude, with a fiery passion. The way she walked around like her shit didn't stink, always sent the Gryffindor up a wall.

Yet Y/n seemed to make it her life's mission is spin around the drain of Hermione's inner circle, almost like she wanted to be sucked into her presence even more.

The brunette wouldn't let that happen, just because Y/n was attractive, didn't mean Hermione had to give her a seat in her lifestyle.

"Y/n is very much showboating this game," Luna says as she watches her team zigzag around the field.

Hermione watched as the y/h/c girl seemed to be making a show as she chased after the golden snitch. She dodged wooden beams and pillars as she followed it closely, Harry was on her tail but seemed to be lagging behind.

"When doesn't she showboat?" Hermione grumbled as the blonde beside her gave a dreamy laugh.

"I've never understood your dislike for Y/n, I understand she can be a bit much, but she seems to genuinely enjoy your company," Luna says as people cheer around them because of a Gryffindor Chaser scoring a goal.

"She is so sleazy! Why would I entertain that type of person with my time?" Hermione says, to which Luna just shrugged. Her eyes looked at the brunettes for a moment but then flicked back to the game.

The tense grit in her jaw, how straight her back was, and the fiddling of her fingers gave Hermione away quite easily.

Luna had begun to spot Hermione at every Ravenclaw game since the beginning of the fifth year. It didn't matter if Gryffindor was playing or not, she never missed a game.

There had been a rumor going around that Y/n and Hermione were seen talking in an empty hallway, and it looked more like flirting than actual conversation.

Those rumors were quickly thwarted when everyone saw them back in their bickering behavior in the coming days.

"You fancy her" she states.

Hermione's eyes widened at the statement. That was outlandish! She had never felt any romantic feelings for Y/n!

Well...

Ugh, she couldn't believe she had been figured out by one of her friends, and that she had actually fallen for the Ravenclaw's charms!

It was humiliating, honestly.

Y/n had caught her alone in an empty hallway sometime at the early start of the fifth year. It had been normal, for the most part. Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed at every pickup line she tried, but then she said something that caught her off guard.

"I need your help"

Y/n had never been one to ask for help, EVER.

So, to hear it come from her mouth was almost like hearing the devil say 'please'. It even made her slack-jawed in awe from hearing it as they stood in that empty hallway.

The Ravenclaw soon pulled out her grades from last year and showed Hermione that she had completely failed Alchemy the entire year.

She was being forced to retake it.

Hermione had shifted from foot to foot in the debate about whether she should help her greatest annoyance.

"Please Hermione, you're the smartest girl I know...and I truly need your help"

Something changed in the Gryffindor's heart, maybe because of the overzealous ego that Y/n seemed to be missing at this moment, or how she started to notice how beautiful her eyes were in the sunlight.

"Alright, alright. Meet me in the dungeons after dark, I'll help you."

Hermione then smiled at her. Another historic moment for the two, Y/n almost wanted to take a picture. If only she had a camera on her...

That was years ago now, and both had been meeting up in the old Potions classroom every night to study or just talk.

Y/n acted completely different when they were alone, so soft and caring. Her smile wasn't cocky, and her laugh was light and airy.

So, you could imagine when Hermione started to be pulled in by her charms.

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione replied with a face as scarlet as a letter, Luna just chuckled and looked back onto the field.

Harry and Y/n flew side by side as they chased after the snitch, both had grins on their faces as they tried to outmaneuver one another.

They were good friends, both having practiced together many times during their time at Hogwarts. They were the best of the best when it came to school level, and Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Y/n went on to be a professional.

Y/n flew to the other side of Harry as they slipped past the high-rise stands. Hermione was sure that one of them was going to kick someone in the head.

People began to murmur as they saw the Beaters looking around frantically. They seemed to have lost sight of the Bludger. Never a good sign.

"Bouncing Bludger!" People called out as a warning.

Harry suddenly ducked down as he heard a loud zipping noise headed his way. He obviously had flashbacks to the second year when he broke his arm because of one.

Sadly, Y/n didn't take in the noise before it was too late. A collective gasp took over the crowd when the ball smacked into Y/n's side at high speed, knocking her off her broom and slamming her into the walkway between the bleachers and railing.

She skidded for a few moments her body rolling and slamming onto the ground as friends and teammates ran/flew to her aid immediately. Harry watched in anguish as he saw his friend lay on the floor of the bleachers, unmoving.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispers as she pushes her way down to the main floor with Luna on her heels. People murmured around them as Madam Hooch ran to Y/n's side and checked her over.

"We need to get her to Hospital Wing, any able-body boys, I need you to carry her!" she yells as Ron lands beside them and drops his broom.

Hermione shoved her way through the crowd, whispering quiet apologies as she basically elbowed everyone in front of her. Luna held the back of her shirt as she followed in her wake.

When they finally broke through the barrier of people, Ron slowly picked her up into his arms. Y/n looked so fragile as her arm dangled.

Hermione stood there, staring as Ron walked away with Madam Hooch in quick steps. People's whispers seemed to get louder when she began to follow close behind them.

Harry flew down near the railing and called out to his female best friend as he followed beside her. Yet, she completely ignored him and everyone else as she stared at Y/n's head, which was lobed over the edge of Ron's forearm.

Luna stayed back and watched Hermione's actions with a knowing look. The way her body was loose and nervous, yet she just gazed at the unconscious Ravenclaw in her friend's arms like she was witnessing a car accident.

Hermione didn't know how to feel, or think.

Her body went into autopilot.

——————

She sat on the bench outside the hospital wing as friends, teammates, and some teachers went and checked on her. Y/n had woken up once, but Madam Promfrey quickly put her back to sleep due to the broken ribs and her groans of pain,

It was now almost one in the morning, everyone had gone to bed for the night. The only people in that part of the castle were the biggest rivals in the school.

Hermione's foot shook as she gathered the courage to get off this bench and finally walk in.

She was nervous to see Y/n in a state that wasn't what she was used to. To see her broken and bruised...was going to be foreign.

Quietly she stood up and walked towards the big doors, she slowly opened them, and they squeaked loudly.

Hermione cursed to herself as she decided to leave it open. Her eyes scanned the moonlit room to find only one occupant of the beds.

Y/n laid on her back as her chest rose and fell slowly. Her white school shirt showed that her sides were bandaged and tightly wrapped around her skin.

The Gryffindor carefully stepped closer as she watched for any sudden movements or to hear any discomfort leave Y/n's lips.

When she finally sat down on the chair beside the hospital bed and looked upon the Ravenclaw's face. She was peaceful, oblivious to the amount of pain her body was in.

Hermione didn't know what to do, or why she was even still up this late at night for someone she only knew in the dark.

Maybe that's why? Nighttime was the only place where they saw each other's true colors. Spoke without any malice or anger.

Her hand slowly laid itself beside Y/n's, her finger caressing the girl's knuckles. Silent affection, something only she would know about when day broke again.

"You've done it Y/l/n. You've got me under your spell...I hope you're proud" Hermione whispers as she stares her their hands, feeling how cold Y/n's hand is compared to hers.

"You're freezing" she whispers as she stands up and walks over to a cabinet full of blankets and other equipment.

"I don't know why Madam Promfrey insists on keeping the wing so cold!" Hermione grumbled as she grabbed a blanket and shut the cabinet closed with a small 'huff'.

When she walked back over, she unraveled the folded polyester and draped it across the injured girl. Her hands glided carefully around Y/n's sides to make sure the heat of her body helped her broken ribs heal a little faster.

Hermione leaned over her unconscious form as she carefully tucked the blanket around her, as she moved up towards her shoulders, their faces were almost nose to nose.

She leaned away slightly but stared for another moment as she noticed the bruises along her jaw and cheek.

"That fall did a number on you too" Hermione whispered as she reached up and took a hold of Y/n's chin, gently moving her head so she could get a better look at the purple marks.

She sighed softly and sat back in the chair, her legs crossing as she debated on what to do next. A big part of her wanted to stay, but another didn't want to put any more suspicion on their 'unlabeled relationship'.

Was it friendly or turning into more?

It was obvious that Hermione had grown quite fond of the Y/n under the cover of the dark, but was that truly who she was?

Or was the arrogant and cocky asshole during the day her true personality?

This question made Hermione want to rip her hair out. It was the only part that she couldn't get a clear answer on.

"You are so infuriating" Hermione mumbled quietly as she looked away and out threw the window. She could see owls flying out of the Owlry, their silhouettes dancing across the moon.

She heard a big intake of breath before a pained grunt came from Y/n. Hermione's eyes quickly fell back on her as she brought the chair closer to the bed.

"I know" she whispers as her hand reaches up and pushes away some hair that was stuck to Y/n's forehead.

It was quiet as Hermione calmed down Y/n by running her fingers through her hair. Watching as the Ravenclaw seemed to be craving her touch.

"You're such an idiot sometimes. Why don't you listen to your teammates?" She asks in an annoyed tone as she thinks back on the incident from many hours ago. Y/n silently groaned in pain as she nudged her head against Hermione's palm.

"You can't guilt me out of giving you a lecture once you wake up" she hums as her hand caressed Y/n's forehead, she could feel the heat radiating from it.

It's silent as Hermione does more than any rival should do, but she feels guilty that the Ravenclaw didn't have anyone who wanted to stay and watch over her during this.

"You need to find a girlfriend. I can't be the one to take care of you during times like this" she hummed quietly as she moved her hand away. Y/n groans again, whether, from the pain or the now sudden lack of contact, Hermione isn't sure.

"Then again...I'd more than likely come sit by you if this happens again" she sighed as she started to use unconscious Y/n as a therapist. It made her chuckle slightly about it.

"This is ridiculous! Why are you so charming to me now?" Hermione huffs in annoyance as she crosses her arms. A small hue of scarlet red flooded onto her face.

"Fine. You're cute, I'll give you that." She admits with an annoyed sigh as she looks everywhere but Y/n.

"How can I fancy you? I've despised your very presence since we've met!" The Gryffindor mumbles as her eyes follow the detail of the stone walls.

She was silent for a while, listening to the soft breathing of the Ravenclaw beside her as her mind stumbled over itself with different thoughts.

"I'll admit it. Alright?" She sighs with another annoyed tone. Hermione hated admitting she had been wrong, especially about how she truly felt about things.

"I've fallen for the sound of your voice, and the kindness you show me when it's just the two of us. Or how you seem to look at me like...I can't explain it, it's like-" she's cut off.

"Like you're the only person in the room that matters"

Hermione turned in shock to hear a dry and raspy voice coming from the bed beside her. Y/n eyes were open, but tired still. She had a weak smile, yet it seemed very genuine.

They stared at one another, Hermione's breathing was audible but soft. Her hands gripped her jeans, trying to convince herself that she wasn't hallucinating. Y/n's hand slipped out from under the blanket and waited patiently to be taken.

Hermione sat nervously as she hesitated, her eyes flickering between Y/n's hand and eyes. The Ravenclaw waited patiently, continuing to look at her with a soft smile.

"How can I trust you?" Hermione asked as she looked back at her, their gaze tense and unbreaking.

"I've loved you since our first Potions class together" Y/n whispered, surprising the Gryffindor once again. All the way back to first-year?

"Then why..." Hermione drifts off as she thinks of every time they've gotten into an argument or pushed each other's buttons on purpose.

"It's the only way you'd talk to me! Thank Merlin I failed Alchemy, or else this might of never happened" Y/n chuckles softly as Hermione slips her hand into hers. It was warm now.

Y/n's thumb subconsciously ran over Hermione's knuckles as they continued to stare at one another.

"Go out with me Granger, tomorrow," Y/n asked with a grin, which Hermione chuckled at.

"You're still on bed rest for your broken ribs" she states, to which the Ravenclaw groans about.

"I'll sneak out, meet me in Irondale" Y/n says and Hermione rolls her eyes with a playful smile as she places her other hand between the space below her chest and above her stomach.

"I'll bring you some Ice Cream tomorrow as compensation, please stay in bed," Hermione asks nicely and Y/n grumbles like an upset first-year.

"Alright, but as soon as I'm released then?" Y/n asks with a smile as she squeezes the Gryffindor's hand.

"Maybe" Hermione teased as they began to quietly laugh together, their chuckles echoing around them in the empty Hospital Wing.

Y/n hissed and touched her sides.

"Don't make me laugh" she whispers with a pained smile, to which Hermione quickly apologized and moved her chair closer. Looking at the potions on the nightstand beside the bed.

"When did you take these?" she asks as her hand leaves Y/ns and starts to pick up bottles, reading the labels carefully.

"You tell me," Y/n says with a grin as she tries to lay at her side, but Hermione quickly scolds her.

"Don't you dare! You have broken ribs!" she says with a sigh as she watches Y/n roll her eyes and lay back down.

"Here, this is for pain relief. It says take every four hours, and you've been knocked out long past that" Hermione hums as she pours the liquid into a small cup, Y/n makes a face as the smell of it hits her nose.

"Please don't make me pour it down your throat" Hermione states as she holds the cup for her. They looked at each other with playful glares.

"It smells like horse piss 'Mione" Y/n says as she slowly sat u. Her ribs felt as though they were on fire, causing her to curse and hold back some tears.

Hermione took her hand and held it against her back to alleviate some of the pain. It seemed to help slightly.

"I know, but it's good for you" she replied as she placed the cup in the Ravenclaw's hands.

"Maybe so, but I need a little convincing" Y/n says through pained breaths as she smiles. Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"How so?" She asks as Y/n places her hand on the side of her neck and pulls the brown-haired girl towards her.

Hermione smiled when she stood out of her chair and kissed the Ravenclaw. Their lips moved simultaneously, their hands grasping each other's faces with passion.

Each kiss felt more irresistible than the last, to the point that Y/n desperately whispered 'no' when Hermione began to pull away.

"Drink, then we'll see about another one " she whispered back as she sat back in the chair, her face pink and her lips smudged with Y/n's peppermint chapstick.

Y/n was quick to down the potion like a shot of Fire Whiskey. To which she soon regretted when her face contorted and she started to cough from the taste.

As she gagged and hacked from the horrendous flavor, she grasped her sides in pain.

"Sweet Merlin, knock me out" she said through wheezes as Hermione rubbed her back comfortingly.

Eventually Y/n was able to calm herself and lay back down on the bed. Hermione covered her back with the blanket and sighed softly.

"You're an idiot" she said with a sigh as Y/n grasped her hand and smiled.

"Your idiot"

"I haven't claimed you"

"Yet! I'm putting it into the universe now" Y/n hums as she shuts her tired eyes and lets the potion start to relax her body.

"Oh god," Hermione whispers as she stands up and dusts off her jeans. Owls booted as they passed by the window.

"Get some sleep-"

Y/n quickly grabbed her wrist and gave a soft, but pleading look. This shocked the Gryffindor. Y/n was never this openly touchy.

"Don't go"

Hermione looked at her as a small smile crept into her lips, she looked away to hide her charmed facial expression.

"If you wish" she says as she sits back in the chair and takes Y/n's hand into hers. Their palms fit perfectly against one another.

Y/n relaxed as she began to fall asleep again, her eyes fluttering shut to the comfort of Hermione's watchful gaze.

The room felt safe.

——————

Hermione soon woke up to the sun shining in her eyes, she groaned as she sat up and cursed the chair for putting a knot in her back

When her eyes focused, she found Y/n reading the Daily Prophet with an annoyed look on her face. Hermione yawned and caught her attention.

"Look at this! I look like roadkill!" Y/n huffed as she showed the front page of the article, it was a moving picture of Y/n passed out on the bleacher floor.

"Quidditch Player Bludgeoned!" Hermione read out the headline and snickered slightly as Y/n just huffed in anger again.

"That's a stupid play on words" she grumbled as Madam Promfrey walked back with a snicker of her own.

"I liked it" she said with a smile as she took care of a sick third-year a few beds away.

"Hey!" Y/n groaned as Hermione placed the paper down and chuckled, the air between them was light and fun.

Y/n looked back at her and sighed, the sun shining on her back as it cast her shadow on the bed.

"So...do you want to talk about last night?" Y/n asks and Hermione feels her cheeks heat up at the remembrance of it.

"Yes, we should" she replied as she scooted closer, hoping to keep the conversation as private as possible.

Y/n gently gazed upon her, her eyes seemed to glow as the backlight of the sunshine shimmered around her.

They both were nervous to hear what the other would say, which led them to just look at one another to start the conversation.

"Would you still like to go out to Irondale with me? After I get released, of course." Y/n whispers as her eyes fall to the palms of her hands. A nervous silence grew between them as Madam Promfrey pretended she wasn't listening in.

"I would like that, a lot" Hermione whispers as a shared smile breaks out on their faces. The room felt warmer as their cheeks turned a cotton candy color (or candy floss if you really want to get British).

——————

They spoke quietly together as the day turned to night once again, Y/n eventually convincing Hermione to go back to her dorm and get a good night's rest.

But as soon as Hermione's head hit that pillow, she began to toss and turn. To the point that Ginny threw a pillow at her to make her stop moving.

"I can't help it!" Hermione whispered as she sat up and threw the bundle of feathers back at her. Ginny just sighed as she caught it and laid back with it covering her face in annoyance.

"Just go see her then! Everyone has been talking about you two today" Ginny muffled through the cloth as a few other girls hummed in agreement as they pretended to be asleep.

"Of course, this school spreads gossip quicker than the flu" Hermione grumbles as she throws the covers off and slips on her shoes. A few of the girls chuckled as they sat up as well and turned on the light.

"I find it cute," Lavender says with a smile as she yawns softly. Ginny snickered and moved the pillow off her face, watching as Hermione seemed to be burning with embarrassment.

"I hate you all" the leather-haired beauty grumbled as she walked towards the door.

"But we love you!" The girls yelled back in a fit of giggles as the door slammed shut. Hermione could hear them cackling as she quickly made her way down to the common room.

It was empty and dark, it looked as though someone had put off the fireplace for the night. Her feet made the steps creak as she walked down to the main floor, her arms crossed against her chest as the chilly air hit the skin of her forearms.

She huffed softly as she shimmied her way through the tunnel and out to the hall on the other side.

The paintings snored softly as she made her way to the Hospital Wing. Only a few were up to ask the young Gryffindor where she was off to, to which she replied 'Better sleeping arrangements'. It was a strange response, but they didn't push any further.

When Hermione made it to the wing, it was dark and cold, just like the night before. Except, Y/n was up.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" She asks when she hears steps enter the room. Hermione just grumbled something incoherent and got into the empty bed next to Y/n's.

Y/n chuckled and watched the Gryffindor get under the covers and turn her back towards her.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up."

Y/n began to laugh, now that her ribs were almost fully healed it didn't hurt as much to do so anymore.

"Just admit it, Granger, you're in love with me already" Y/n says to which Hermione flips her off and covers her head with the pillow.

Hermione felt her face burn so hot that she was sure the pillowcase could catch ablaze. Y/n's continuous chuckles didn't help either. Soon enough, it got quiet, and the sound of the wind rattled the windows near them.

Hermione rolled over and rested the pillow back under her head as she caught eyes with Y/n across from her.

"This doesn't mean anything" she whispers as the Ravenclaw grinned.

"It means everything" Y/n replied.

"You're overthinking things"

"I'm your overthinker"

"Still trying to get me to claim you?"

"Slowly but surely!"

Hermione chuckled softly as she looked at her with a soft gaze, her heart thumping inside her chest.

"Fine. You're an idiot...my idiot"

They both began to laugh as they lay on either bed and started to talk the night away quietly, soon falling asleep with their hands dangling over the sides. Fingers brushing the others whenever a breath was taken.

Futures started to form in their dreams.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff

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girlwithamissingpearl · 7 months

Text

I understand things have been dry in Outlander land but even desert dry has me smh. Ladies, if you have to try that hard to shit all over SH, I’m not saying it makes you a hater but it sure as shit doesn’t make you a liker.

Back after a bit- admit it, we all need to occasionally take a break- I feel I needed to pace myself during the drought. But after a bit of scrolling, I felt compelled to dive right in. Isn’t this fandom about fun, entertainment and guilty pleasure? That’s why I’m here. So why the endless posts from the SH haters? Do people dislike SH, enjoy the snark or just think the man is stupid?

So just for fun (or insomnia) I thought I would play a short game of SH: Stupid, Smart or just SMH?

1. SH and Cons/Private events for $

Why do people have such a problem with SH trying to make a living? Most if not all actors part of a series or movie franchise participate. In my opinion SH is doing it now, so he won’t need to in his 60’s to pay the rent. While most fans are priced out of the more exclusive events, all I can say is the paying fans are the only ones that never complain. Supply and demand. If any charitable component is part of the deal, great. So can we finally put a line under this?

Verdict: Smart as hell

2. SH always “Shilling” SS to his Fans and on SM

Uhm, he is the brand. It’s his company. Can it be a bit much? Yes. Promotion to the fan base and the use of sm is marketing 101. In order for people to try the product they need to know about the product. We can disagree as to his methods or success to date, but fans are not the only ones buying bottles. As for the constant and consistent presence of AN with SH during events? Suddenly they are a couple? WTF. AN is a business partner. He owns part of the business. They both work hard promoting SS, and so far it looks like they will continue to release more SS. Ladies, don’t put your lawn chairs away yet!😉

Verdict: Smart

3. SH and boundaries with his fans

Regardless of the letter you attach to SH, he is a recognized actor around the world. Definitely a people pleaser, in imho, he will happily take a selfie with anyone. Obviously, he never wants to disappoint any fan, but his lack of boundaries and security at events can be cringe worthy at times. If a female actor was touched, mauled, or asked to sign fans boobs or t-shirts it would be a #me too moment. Someone, anyone in security or a handler needs to be bad cop if he won’t. How far is too far?

Verdict: Stupid with a side of SMH

4. SH as a Philanthropist and Charitable Causes

This one really bugs me. MPC has raised over $6m for charity. SH’s name attached to any cause raises awareness and $. The BS from the haters who discount this based on the fact SH apparently never donates his own money is petty nonsense. Gentleman’s ride is one example. Agree it was his female fans that made it happen. And? This is my only fandom but SH is held to an impossible standard. Apparently he is a hypocrite in his support for clean oceans because someone on his team had a catered lunch using single use plastics. Great topic for discussion, but the man didn’t throw the containers in the ocean. Also let’s not judge a person’s commitment based on sm posts. SH can literally, yes ladies literally never win. Thankfully the causes he supports do. I dare you to disagree.

Verdict: Smart

5A. SH’s dating life

According to an extremely ardent part of this fandom, SH has dated😉 every fit blonde 👱‍♀️ within a 250 mile radius of everywhere. I wish that someone would keep track of all the mysterious initials and lack of any literal proof of these women. This is where I separate the snark from the hater’s. While I’m in owe of the investigative skills of some, and enjoy the gossip-even though mom thought gossip was a sin, sorry mom- not all women aka initials welcome the attention. Any woman save CB that SH is remotely warranted or not attached to, has an avalanche of hate comments and 💩emoji in their future, welcome or not. Personally, I believe SH, goes out of his way to protect the people he cares about, and perhaps even those he may not. I think we can agree he is not a monk. However an actor is entitled to privacy. Ginger Jesus included.

5B. SH ‘s Sexuality

From the beginning, 3 years for me, I’ve read posts about someone who knew a friend of a friend of a bartender’s friend who knew for a fact SH had a boyfriend. WTF. You know the drought is real when this bullshit gets recycled. We all know the question has been asked and answered by SH. More than once. Next.

Verdict: SH keeping his private life private: Smart as hell.

6. SH and the use of all things Outlander related

If you don’t get it, I don’t have the time and am too lazy to explain it to you.

Verdict: Smart. Smart as hell

7. SH and CB

The only real problem here is obvious. And I don’t know why the fans or even the haters- btw, I use the term haters like I do profanity- perhaps not the best word, but like GFY, FU, MF, C, etc. I’m lazy and it saves time and no confusion to whom I address. So where the actual f&ck is the audition tape we all want to see? You know the part of which I speak. If only the fandom investigators could put aside any petty differences and uncover the SH, CB chemistry kiss tape? I’m not saying it will be a unifying and CTJ moment, but it would give SH fans something to make the drought less….thirsty.

No verdict necessary. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨😚😉

And last but definitely not least…

8. SH and Thirst Traps

Ladies, because of Outlander and all things Outlander related, we’ve had the pleasure to observe SH from every view and lovely angle. Come on, if you 👀 closely it’s all there. Why the actual f&ck people in this fandom have a problem with his shirtless posts is beyond me. Not only is he promoting the results a good fitness regime can produce, he is literally, yes literally giving his fans something they want. And don’t even try me with- you’re treating him like an object. This is a 100% consensual relationship. And if the word “hater” seems harsh about the same gang that complains and shits all over his shirtless thirst traps, then please find me a better name.

Verdict: Smart as hell and thank you

So for those who may not get it, this post is silly and something for my handful of friends or any SH fan to have a laugh. If anyone has the patience to read the entire thing😉 So any comments are welcome, but to the people or person sending awful and cowardly anon messages: save your time. Or GFY. See what I did there?🤓

#outlander #outlander season 7 #sam cait #sam heughan #sassanach #men in kilts #men in kilts 2 #waypoints #clanlands

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turbulentscrawl · 5 months

Note

Heyy! Could you write a most-to-least compatible with a clingy!reader with the survivors maybe?

I love your works and find myself rereading them a lot, they're really stellar!! •v•

Thank you, I'm glad you like my work!! (I added Ithaqua, I couldn't resist)

Emma wants to be with you all hours of the day, craves it. She wants to never be alone again. If you want the same, then it’s nothing short of a match made in heaven, right?

(Bonus) Ithaqua is not #1 only because he doesn’t like if you get desperate about him having to leave for matches. Like, first of all, he doesn’t get a say and there’s nothing he can do. Second of all, he enjoys terrorizing the little survivors. This is his Me-Time. Any other time he adores having you wrapped around his finger—and a little separation pouting is endearing, but any more than that and he gets frustrated.

Eli is incredibly patient. He loves your company and doesn’t mind a shadow most of the time. But as he’s somewhat of a figurehead and confidant in the manor, he will sometimes need private time with other inhabitants. It’s for their privacy, you see, surely you understand. Otherwise, he doesn’t mind you sticking by his side!

Andrew won’t ever say it, but you liking his company so much sooths a lot of his soul-aches and worries. He does like some occasional quiet time, but otherwise he likes that you would choose time with him over time alone.

Antonio loves his darling’s company…but he also knows it’s important to give his friends some quality time too. (And he has a good amount of friends, despite fate’s intentions.) It’s only fair, right? Surely you can wait a bit. He’ll find you again later to share a bottle of wine.

Ganji similarly likes a good amount of time with his partner…but he’s also quite used to being alone and gets irritable when he doesn’t get any decompression time alone. Make sure he gets like five hours to do his own thing, and he’ll be alright the rest of the time.

Melly doesn’t know what to do with you most of the time. It’s not that she dislikes having you around, but rather she feels awkward. Is she…supposed to be doing something with you? Is she expected to entertain you? She’ll deal with this better after some reassurance and comfort, but otherwise struggles with subconscious expectations about her duties as a partner.

Emily can appreciate clinginess from a medical standpoint. You’ve got some abandonment wounds, yes? You’re afraid of being left behind. She will do her best to accommodate you, but unfortunately she has to work the infirmary most nights and you can’t just loiter in there. Respect her work hours and she’ll make it work the rest of the time.

Orpheus is busy with his own things a good chunk of the time, but as long as it’s not anything private he doesn’t mind sharing space with you. You can even sit on his lap while he’s busy writing…just don’t distract him with inane chatter. And when he says he’s busy, respect that.

Norton avoids you for your own good, alright? Don’t make this difficult. He’s not answering any questions about the hows and the whys, and begging will get you nowhere. When he’s able to have you around, rest assured he’ll be around. He wants to be around you. But whenever he leaves you be, it’s because you’re safer that way.

Luchino also has work. Even in the manor, he’s not giving up on his research, his life’s work. It’s better if you let him come to you. Make plans with him; he’ll never be late, never forget you. But he has work and even as his s/o you can’t be allowed to distract him.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #multiple idv characters #emma woods x reader #ithaqua x reader #eli clark x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #antonio paganini x reader #ganji gupta x reader #melly plinius x reader #emily dyer x reader #orpheus x reader #norton campbell x reader #luchino diruse x reader #turbulentscrawl

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catscidr · 4 months

Note

Ghost reader with dottore!!?!?

Ilysm

BOO haha gotem. did i get you ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, dottore is tired and maybe a little ooc, established relationship kinda? not proofread. for plot purposes pretend that sign language doesn't exist and or that neither dottore nor reader know it lmaosghfns includes: gn!reader, dottore, pantalone is mentioned at the end wc: 1,5k

Being a ghost had its perks. One, you could phase in and out of tangible objects at your own whim- made it infinitely easier to tease and annoy Dottore. It’s not like he could push you away if you were to poke his face repeatedly, anyways.

Two, you had freakishly good night-vision. It lined up with the doctor’s schedule- since he always worked late into the hours of the night you could hang around him and, in turn, entertain yourself by wreaking havoc in his lab (havoc meaning knocking over an empty, plastic container when he wasn’t paying attention to you).

However, being a ghost also utterly sucked ass sometimes.

For one, you couldn’t speak. Occasionally you’ll let out a quiet, hushed noise of surprise whenever Dottore caught you off guard or threw something at you, but you couldn’t communicate with him properly. Your main mode of communication was, for the most part and for lack of better words, miming and charades. That in it of itself wasn’t too hard to do since you grew to become incredibly expressive during your time as a ghost, but it required Dottore to look at you (thank the Seven he could see you), which he, in petty revenge, would sometimes refuse to do.

“Sweetheart, I’m busy. I’ve been busy for a while, and I need you to let me focus,” he says in a firm but calm tone, muffled by a dust mask. It would have sent shivers down your spine if you had one, but you don’t, so instead you roll your eyes at him, floating next to him to peek at what he was doing.

Sparks flew and sharp, stinging sounds irritating your ghostly eardrums echoed through your body, but it wasn’t enough for you to give up on pestering him.

It’s not like you could do much, anyways.

Moving objects could take a lot out of you depending on their weight, volume and size. Pushing a pencil was easy enough, throwing one was just as effortless, but moving something like a desk was harder, considerably so.

Despite his apparent dislike for you, Dottore enjoyed your company, more than others. Being around someone that wasn’t afraid of him, that treated him like a friend made his cold heart thaw. It’s something he would never admit with his words, too prideful and stubborn to voice out loud, but it didn’t mean that there weren’t any other ways for him to portray his love for you.

You poked the large metal mechanism he was working on, a loud bonk echoing in the pristine lab. It drew him out of his thoughts, gloved fingers stiffening around the soldering iron he held.

Nothing moved out of place, but the action was enough for him to peel his gaze away from the two pieces of metal he was soldering together to glare at your semitransparent, floating figure. He says your name with a quiet growl, the word rolling off his tongue in a silent threat.

“If you keep distracting me, I’ll keep the lab’s curtains open and start working during the day.” he huffs, pushing his security goggles up to rest atop his head to rub his eyes. Dark circles decorated his eyes, the urge to go to sleep for hours at a time constantly present in the back of his mind.

Your face contorts in an expression akin to one of betrayal, brows pinched together as you freeze in place, your pointer finger hovering just inches away from the machine. Quickly, you’re at Dottore’s side once again, a gust of cold air chilling his skin as a result of your proximity. He pays no mind to it, simply unfurling his sleeves to cover the goosebumps on his scarred forearms.

You want to ask what he’s working on, what exactly this big chunk of iron and copper is doing in his lab. Why he has safety goggles and a dust mask instead of his usual crow mask, why he’s so much less receptive to your shenanigans than usual. While mulling over your questions, the Harbinger walks off, leaving you alone with your thoughts- but not for long.

He comes back and takes a seat on the stepladder he was previously on, clicking his pen, slouching forward and leaning his chin on his free hand. You snap your attention back at him- your heart would flutter at the sight if you still had one.

Dottore sat with his legs spread comfortably, crimson eyes unobscured by his mask, hair pulled back loosely with a few rogue strands falling over his face as he looked at you with his chin in his hand, twirling his pen absentmindedly. You wonder if ghosts are able to-

“Have you ever tried to possess something?”

The doctor’s question catches you off guard. You shake your head quickly, your attention definitely piqued.

“...do you remember being able to possess anything?” he adds, his left brow raised.

You shake your head again, this time after a slight pause as a sheepish expression adorns your features. Being a ghost meant you had a pretty bad memory, considering your lack of a brain and of, well, everything. You weren’t fortunate enough to have a good memory, being an entity made up purely of elemental energy.

Your answer seemed to please Dottore as he writes down something on his notepad, scribbling quickly. If you remembered one thing, it’s that you knew you couldn’t read his handwriting purely for the fact that it was impossibly messy. Your brain wasn’t at fault, not this time.

He looks back up at you. “Do you have an idea of how you could possess an object?”

Again, you shake your head slowly after a short pause to think about his question. However, your face beams into a bright smile as you give him a thumbs up and a nod of your head. You point at yourself with your thumb, expression changing into something more boastful and confident.

“You think you can do it?” he asks with the ghost of a smile, amused by your antics. His behaviour was definitely strange, but you paid no mind to it, just happy to see him smiling again since he didn’t seem to do it much nowadays.

You gesture to yourself with both hands, pointing to your lower body that dissipated into nothingness, silently saying I’m a ghost, that’s what we’re supposed to do.

He understands despite your lack of a voice and chuckles softly.

Without another second to waste you float closer to the mass of metal Dottore was working on, analyzing and pondering what to do. Were you supposed to, like, chant something before going inside of it? Despite being an undead spirit, you had only used your ghostly powers to annoy Dottore. Possession wasn’t on the list.

Figuring that you had nothing to lose, you try to phase yourself into the machine. Your ‘body’ felt like it suddenly weighed a ton and you felt cold, incredibly so. You didn’t know what you were seeing, eyesight blurred and blacked out around the corners as if you had glaucoma at the same time. It was dark inside of the lab, dark enough that your eyesight should be relatively normal. Caught up in your thoughts you fail to see Dottore rapidly taking notes as he looked up at his creation.

Abruptly, you feel yourself getting ‘ejected’ from whatever state you were in. Your head spins and you hear a faint crash, though you don’t register it as being related to what you just experienced.

Dottore calls out your name, the sound being much more pleasant to your ears than the previous loud noise despite his voice sounding just as rough. You blink repeatedly, focusing your gaze on him as he says your name again.

“Are you okay?” he asks with furrowed brows, free hand raised up awkwardly in the air as if to hold your shoulder- forgetting that he can’t. You look at him and nod slowly, though your head felt impossibly tight, your body was readjusting to being so small in comparison to what you had just attempted to possess.

He jots down something else as he observes your state.

While he writes down whatever you take the opportunity to look around, noticing the hunk of metal now laid horizontally on the crushed tiles of the lab, dust settling in the cracks. You panic, hands flailing and gesturing at high speed, profusely apologizing to Dottore in your own way.

He ignores your frazzled state and simply shrugs, expression back to being stern again since you seemed to be relatively okay.

“I don’t care about the floor; you just successfully possessed a ruin guard. The state of my lab is the least of my worries,” he declares without taking his eyes off of his notepad.

You stop your movements to look at him, then at what he had just called a ruin guard. If it used to be sitting upright and it was now on its side, then...

“The banker’ll pay for the damages. We’ll have you practicing your ability to possess things. There’s room for improvement,” he says with a curl of his lips, looking up at you with a glint of mischievousness and something else you couldn’t put your transparent finger on. You nod happily, relieved to be able to make him grin again.

If there’s anything you remembered, it was how much you loved to see the doctor smile.

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x y/n #il dottore x you #il dottore x reader

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leilani-lily · 2 months

Text

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 4)

Should I have divided this chapter up into two parts? Yes. Am I going to? no~ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I promise not all chapters are going to be this long. I just... kept typing ◉‿◉ Anyways hope you enjoy! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. Finally admitting you're a fan of his show, Alastor invites you up to his radio tower. Shenanigans ensue as your bond grows. Word Count: 4.1 K Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You honestly hadn’t expected your morning coffee with Alastor to become routine, yet the Radio Demon always seemed to pop in right on time; mug in hand and grin on his face. You weren’t complaining though, it was nice to have company while the rest of the hotel was fast asleep. Plus you felt a little flattered that a demon apparently so powerful and well known seemingly wanted to spend time with you. Sometimes Alastor would even stay as you would begin cooking breakfast, either continuing to chat happily or just sit in peaceful silence. He would watch you cook, sipping his coffee as the radio played softly in the background. As much as you hated the early mornings, you were slowly finding they were becoming your favourite part of the day.

You’d chat about various things; music, food, likes and dislikes. Sometimes you’d even gossip about the shenanigans that happened at the hotel. You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes would light up and grin widened when you brought up another guest at the hotel. The amount of sass and zero fucks this lanky demon posessed had entertained you more than you wanted to admit. Alastor was quite the gossiper, which you never would have guessed. But given his radio broadcasts were him ‘spilling the tea’ on the going’s on in Hell, it honestly made sense.

“Oh Alastor, I forgot to mention,” you began, your back turned to him as you busily whisked some eggs for today’s omelet, “I really enjoyed your program the other day in particular; your views on the Vee’s ‘love potion’ was really interesting.”

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor perked up from his cup, his eye’s blinking in surprise. “Y/n dearest,” he paused, tilting his head, “do you mean to tell me that you listen to my show?”

You felt your cheeks go red with embarrassment, not daring to turn around to look at him. You had meant to tell him when you first realized who he was, but it was honestly humiliating to admit. Before you had even begun to work for the hotel, you had been a fan of Alastor’s radio show. You often listened to it in the background on your trusty CD machine back when you lived alone. It was a nice way to fill the silence, plus you found his views and stories compelling. You could feel the tall demon’s eyes burning into the back of your head, the silence deafening.

“Y-yeah actually, I do.” You stammered, still not facing him, “I’ve tuned in for a couple years now, and-!”

“Why y/n my dear~!”

His voice sounded chillingly closer, making you turn around in confusion. Sure enough Alastor was towering over you, only a mere inches away from you as he smiled brightly. You nearly dropped your bowl of eggs in shock, Alastor paying you no mind as he leaned in closer.

“Now why wouldn’t you tell me this sooner? Something this important should have been mentioned earlier!”

Clutching your poor racing heart, you put your bowl and whisk down and take a moment to look up at the demon before you. His smile was ear to ear and eye’s dancing as he looked at you. He actually looked almost giddy at the news. It helped to ease your nerves in admitting the truth.

“Well, I wanted to!” you chuckled, eyes looking away from him, now nervous due to the proximity of the demon, “But I didn’t want you to think I was some stalker or creep when I first got here, so I kept it to myself!”

Alastor’s grin shifted into a closed smile, leaning away from you and looking off to the distance. “Hmm yes I can see your point. As much as I love meeting a fan, sometimes they can be rather… assertive, given the realm in which we live in.” His eye twitched in annoyance for a moment before his gaze flitted back to you.

“Nevertheless~!” He declared, his previous excitement coming back, “This is still information I wished I had known sooner! No one else at this establishment has expressed such interest, so it’s rather refreshing to have a confidante intrigued in such matters.” His eyes suddenly widened, and his grin slowly began to creep up further on his face. Without warning, he quickly began to walk away, heading towards the door. You watch him start to leave, confused but his sudden desire to depart.

“As you know, my next broadcast will be at 9 am sharp. When you are finished with your duties, you simply must come up to my radio tower.”

You felt yourself straighten up in surprise, eyes widening in disbelief. No way. Was he serious?? Your fingers twitched in excitement, not wanting to get your hopes up but secretly dying to go.

“Are… Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to intrude or anything-!”

Alastor flicked a hand up, silencing you immediately. As he approached the door frame, he turned his body to look back at you, half lidded and smiling mischievously. “I expect to see you outside my room at 8:30. Don’t.” his eyes flashed, smile tightening for a moment, “Be late.” And before you could say another word, his body sinked into the shadows and scurried off, leaving you alone and stunned.

You had whisked through breakfast quickly that morning, your excitement barely containable. You felt a little starstruck; Alastor had invited you to his studio. And he was going to let you listen to his broadcast in person! Your brain raced with questions about how it all worked, what it looked like, how he chose his topics. Before you knew it, time had flown by and you were standing in front of Alastor’s door, heart pumping and practically bouncing from foot to foot. With a quick breath, you give a knock.

It wasn’t long before Alastor opened up, his eyes looking at a pocket-watch in his hand before they slid to look at you. His eyebrows raised up slightly in amusement.

“8:29. I’m impressed~” He grinned, his fingers snapping the watch closed before tucking it away in his jacket. You gave a small nod of acknowledgement, pleased with his approval. Without another word, he turned and walked back into his room, the door swinging open further as a silent invitation. After some hesitation, you followed suit, letting your eyes wander as you inspected his livingspace.

The furnishings looked just how you expected. Deep mahogany wood with golden accents, a bookshelf filled with multiple tomes, and a desk scattered with paperwork. There was a beautiful marble fireplace glowing an eerie green hue with two velvet chairs in front, and various candles helpt to light the room. There was a beautiful vintage canopy bed with dark red curtains and very soft looking blankets. You were intrigued by the various skeletal decorations of various animals; antlers, skulls, and even the full anatomy of an alligator.

But honestly, what had caught your attention the most was the magical glow of the bayou that seemed to just expand from nowhere. His room opened up to this expanse of wetlands that seemed to just go on forever. The soft chirping of crickets could be heard in the distance, as well as the bellow of the occasional toad. You stepped from the hardwood into soft dewy grass, your breath hitching in wonder as fireflies flickered by. You reached out a hand as one softly fluttered to your fingers, a soft laugh escaping your lips as it landed and tickled your skin.

“Mesmerizing, isn’t it~?” Alastor stepped up from behind to stand beside you. Your head turned to him as he looked out at the marsh, a fond expression on his face. “Certainly a peaceful sanctuary to escape to when one grows tired of the chaos that is the city.”

“It’s incredible,” you breathed, watching the firefly on your hand eventually takeoff and soar out of sight. You had never felt so at ease in all your years in Hell. It almost made you a little weepy, the gentle reminder of what nature was like before you dropped down to Hell. You didn’t even realize you were walking further into the wetlands until you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from continuing forward.

“Now now y/n,” Alastor’s voice pulled you back to reality as you turned back to him. He cocked an eyebrow in amusement. “Another time, my dear. I’ve got a radio show to run; we mustn't be late.” You felt your heart sink in disappointment, but you knew he was right. Besides, you still really want to see where he worked, despite being enchanted by this mysterious wetland. Looking out at the magical bayou one last time, you walk back with Alastor into his actual room.

The Radio Demon walked up to a closed door to the right and prepared to open it for you like the gentleman that he is. As you stood before the entrance, you could feel yourself getting excited over what was on the other side. What did it look like? What sort of equipment did he use? How many other demons have seen his workspace? The excitement was almost unbearable as he swung the door open, your bright hopeful eyes suddenly widening in fear as a gust of wind hit your face.

You looked out to the expanse of Hell, a thin rusty bridge leading from the outside of the building to his tower. As the wind bellowed, you could hear the creaking of metal as the tower gripped rather precariously to the side of the hotel. Your eyes dared to peek down, feeling your knees begin to quake at the height of which the drop was if you were to fall. You remained frozen in place as Alastor stepped in front of you, walking along the narrow path without a care in the world. As he approached the ladder at the end, he turned back to you and tilted his head to the side, as if confused by your hesitation.

“Alastor,” you stammer, your hands gripping the edge of the doorway, “I would rather sell my soul for a corn chip than walk out on this sad excuse of a bridge.” The tall demon raised an eyebrow at you mischievously.

“Don’t tempt me y/n dearest.” he smirked, his neck almost snapping as his eyes flashed red for a moment. You ignored his threat, too distracted by the fear gripping your heart as you looked down. Alastor watched you amusingly for a moment before finally rolling his eyes and walking back towards you. He shook his head and tutted to himself, as if dealing with a child.

“Come now, we mustn't dawdle,” he chirped, reaching a hand out for you and finally making you lock eyes with him. Though you knew he sounded condescending, there was a certain gentleness in his smile as he bent down lower, his hooded eyes not at all holding any malice. It was odd; you knew what atrocities this demon was capable of doing, yet in this moment, you felt like you could really trust him to keep you safe. After what felt like hours, your own shaky hand finally reached out and gently fell in his outstretched palm.

His hand tight around your own, he began to walk backwards and guided you forward. Your legs took small trembly steps as your other hand gripped the rails like a vice. You felt like you wanted to puke when you approached the halfway point, but Alastors grip on you was strong and secure, and helped to ease your fears. You were grateful that he never turned his back to you, continuing to step backwards as his eyes remained locked on yours; it helped you to focus on him and not look down. You knew he could’ve done many things to upset you; teased you, tricked you, edged you on. But he was surprisingly tender the whole way, and your heart warmed for a moment. His mother did an excellent job raising such a refined man.

Finally reaching the other side, you let go of his hand and practically threw yourself at the ladder Alastor chuckled at your dramatics as you took deep calming breaths. Finally settling your racing heart, you look up at the lookout above and begin to climb. You managed to hoist yourself up through the hatch, standing up straight and finally getting a good look at the workspace.

The tower had windows all around, giving you a magnificent view of Hell. There was a huge heavy desk in front of you filled with various equipment; turntables, microphones, wires, and a giant control panel at the center of it all. It was filled with various switches and dials and flashing lights, all seemingly able to control different things. There was a single large chair in front of the desk, as well as a round side table with a simple lamp and a tray of whiskey and cups. Vines hung from the top of the ceiling while cattails seemed to grow from the floorboards.

“Welcome to where the magic happens!” Alastor cheered behind you, stepping forward and gesturing to the space. “I made it very clear to Miss Morningstar that if I were to help at the hotel, I would require a private space to conduct my work.”

“The foundation is… unsettling.” you remark, knocking on the glass panel beside you as the tower groaned in the wind. Alastor quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

“But I’ll admit, the view is fantastic.” You sighed approvingly, staring out and watching the city bustle below, red skies dusted with soft clouds. You never thought you’d admit this, but Hell had a certain beauty to it. You admire the landscape for a while longer before turning back, realizing Alastor had been watching you the whole time. He spoke up before you could think anything of it.

“Well my dear, I do believe it’s almost time for the broadcast to start,” he immediately turned to go sit in his chair, waving a hand in the air as his microphone appeared. “I suggest you get comfortable.” With a snap of his fingers, a velvety red armchair poofed beside you near the small side table. You smiled at his thoughtfulness, realizing there weren’t many places to sit otherwise. You settled down into the soft chair, your heart beginning to race in excitement.

“And in case it isn’t obvious,” he continued, “I would advise you to remain quiet while I’m on the air. Can’t have any outside noises interfering with the audio now can we~?” He turned back to you for confirmation, a serious and almost threatening look crossing his face. You give an excited nod, pursing your lips tightly together and not realizing your body was swaying side to side eagerly. Alastor’s expression softened ever so slightly.

“Good girl~” he praised, turning back to the desk and flicking some switches, preparing the transmission. Alastor paused for a moment, quickly clearing his throat before pressing a final button. A bright red light on the console flickered on, and before you knew it, Alastor began to speak.

“Salutations my wayward souls, and welcome back to the show!” He smiled, speaking so eloquently into the microphone. “Today’s broadcast is an extra special one as one of my good friends is here with me. And in honor of that, I’ve decided to dedicate this particular topic just for her~!”

You felt your heart melt with warmth at his words. He considered you a good friend? AND he was dedicating this show to you?? You almost wanted to weep, you were so touched. You were practically on the edge of your seat, ready to hear what today’s focus would be.

“So, without further ado~” Alastor teased, turning his body so you could see his profile. He looked at you and you waited with baited breath.

“This segment is called ‘Cooking with Cannibals! How to Properly Mince a Man to Avoid Choking~!”

…………….

This.

Fucking.

Asshole.

Alastor watched you giddily as your smile slowly fell into an angry pout, his own mouth rising into a shit-eating grin. You had never seen him so gleeful until this very moment. You were about to yell at him when his free hand rose, pressing his index finger against his teeth in a shushing motion. Your eyes flickered from the red beacon flashing, then back to him, his grin growing even wider, if possible.

Oh mother-fucker.

You slouched into your chair, sulking and shooting him daggers as you flipped him off. Alastor’s face wrinkled in pure delight as he turned back in his chair, continuing the show as if nothing had happened.

The shithead continued to talk for half an hour about different chopping techniques, which parts of the body had the most bones and what to avoid, and even went over how to perform the ‘Heimlich maneuver’ in case choking was inevitable. As furious as you were, you had to admit, it was a little funny. Plus, you couldn’t sulk for long as you watched him work. His voice was so soothing; the rhythm in which he spoke had a certain pattern that captured you. He also spoke with such ease and confidence, it was hard not to marvel at how he could speak to millions of listeners and not even break a sweat. You had to hold back a laugh at the way he gestured while talking, subconsciously acting to the audience even though they couldn’t see him.

You could tell the Radio Demon was wrapping up, giving his final thoughts and farewells before he finally reached over and pressed the button again. The red light stopped flickering, and the room fell silent as Alastor sat for a moment, back facing you. Finally, he swiveled the chair around and focused on you, smiling proudly and crossing his legs.

“So my dear!” he beamed, his eyes calculating as he looked at you, “What did you think~?” Your eyes squinted into thin lines.

“You’re a real prick, you know that right?”

Alastor immediately bent over in laughter, shoulders shaking with joy as his laughter track played in the background. You continued to glare at him, arms crossed as he reveled in the fun. He rotated from trying to recover, to looking up at your pissy face, to snorting again and laughing even harder. The more he laughed, the more you had to bite back your own smile. Finally, the tall demon managed to catch his breath and straightened his back.

“Ohhh my dear,” he chuckled, wiping a stray tear from his eye, “You honestly cannot blame me; you make it too easy to tease you.” He leaned in closer to you, eyes practically dancing in delight. You stare at him a moment longer before finally cracking a smile and shaking your head.

And this is why you didn’t tell people how you died.

“Ok, well, despite being completely roasted for about half an hour,” you sneered; Alastor cast you a wicked grin, “it honestly was a good show. Your segment’s flowed really well together, the jokes you threw in were witty, and it was obvious you had done your research.” You looked up to him and smiled warmly. “I really enjoyed watching you work, Alastor.”

Alastors face didn’t waver as he looked at you, his eyes scanning you in thought. For a moment you couldn’t tell what was running through the demon's brain. But then, one of his ears flicked ever so slightly, and in a moment you knew. You had come to realize that was something he did when he was secretly happy, but didn’t want anyone to know. You had to physically stop your grin from widening at his reaction, you would never dare reveal the little quirk to him. He leaned back in his chair and hummed, playing off his secret pride.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it was to your liking,” he mused, his eyes soft as he looked at you. There was a gentle pause as you both watched each other before his eyes widened in delight, an idea popping into his head. Immediately, the lanky demon stood up and extended a hand to you.

“Come! Let me show you how everything works.”

For the next couple minutes, Alastor presented all his equipment to you, explaining what each thing did and how it worked. You ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ as if it was show-and-tell, asking many questions and showing genuine interest. He was quite pleased to answer, clearly happy to boast and prove how smart he was. As time ticked on, you realized that you had to get back to the kitchen to start making lunch, and Alastor gave a nod of acknowledgement. With a snap of his fingers, you had both transported back into the kitchen.

“WAIT!” you gasped, looking to him in horror as you realized where you were. “Are you telling me you could have ‘poofed’ us into the tower and I DIDN’T have to risk my life on that sketchy-ass bridge?!”

Alastor looked at you a moment before his lips curled up into a mischievous grin.

“ALASTOR!!” you roared, a laugh escaping your throat as you looked up at him in disbelief. The Radio Demon couldn’t help it as he snickered. He had got you. Again. All you could do was stare at him dumbly, not sure whether to be angry or ashamed or even impressed.

“Ohohooo~ I suppose that’s enough teasing for one day.” Alastor sighed, straightening out his jacket and tie. “Don’t you worry my dear, the next time you come up I’ll be sure to teleport you straight into the tower. No more high wire acts~”

Wait… did you hear him correctly?

“ ‘Next time’… ?” you echoed, not wanting to sound too hopeful. Alastor finally looked at you and blinked, giving you an obvious look.

“For my next broadcast! I figure if you’re listening anyways, you might as well hear it right from the source~!” he proclaimed, saying it matter-of-factly. Your eyes widened at the offer.

“Do… do you really mean that?” You couldn’t help it, it was too good of an offer. And for free at that. You knew it was rare for the Radio Demon to offer something without anything in return. Now it was Alastors turn to give you a confused look, tilting his head at you as if there was any doubt.

“My dear,” he began, his arms crossed behind his back and turning to face you fully, “I insist~! I’ll admit, I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t enjoy your company today; having you around was thoroughly entertaining.” the demon wore his shit eating grin as he reminisced all the funny moments. But the way he looked at you, you could tell there was a hint of sincerity in his words, even if he expressed it in an insouciant way.

“Besides,” Alastor continued, “Since you’ve been a fan for so long, it might be nice to get a listener's perspective on how to make my segments even better. A fresh perspective from someone I can trust.” his eyes held your gaze, making you feel as if he was looking straight into your soul.

You knew he was trying to sound logical and strategic, but his true intentions were peeking through. He really did seem to actually like you, despite all his razzing. And you had to admit, this morning had been so much fun; even with the teasing that came with it. If being friends with Alastor meant a little prodding along the way, then it was well worth it for the excitement and joy he brought into your previously boring life. You took a breath and smiled at him, eyes crinkling in delight.

“Thank you Alastor, I’d love to sit in again with you, work permitting that is,” You smile sheepishly and gesture to the kitchen, realizing you still had a job to do and couldn’t spend all your time with him. But that was enough to satisfy the Radio Demon. With a content grin, Alastor suddenly took one of your hands and bowed at his waist, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I look forward to it dearest~”

Your heart lurched as he closed his eyes and lifted your hand up, pressing the back of it to his forehead. You could almost feel a soft burning against your skin from the spot in which the X marked his temple. Knowing that was a very sensitive spot for him, this somehow felt very intimate. You knew he was just being a gentleman, but still, you couldn’t help the flush growing on your cheeks. His grip on you tightened a moment before he finally pulled away, letting your fingers slip away from his before stepping back. Giving you one last look, the Radio Demon turned around and glided out of the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Imma take a couple day's break cause hoo wee that was a lot. ε-(´・｀) But thank you for reading thus-far! Please feel free to reblog and comment below; your words help to fuel me ( ≖‿ ≖ )

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#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #leilani-lily #oh deer

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sage-nebula · 7 days

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WatcherTV Debrief

I said I was going to write down all of my thoughts yesterday, but I was simply too tired after work. So I'm going to do so now, in a post that is likely going to be very long, but hopefully will still be worth the read for some of you anyway.

TL;DR: I believe this is a very poor decision on Watcher Entertainment's part and it is at the very least going to cost them a huge swath of their fanbase, if not their entire company in the long run. And at this point in time, I myself will not be subscribing.

With that said though, I don't want this post to merely be a rant about how much I dislike the decision, so I'm going to start off by looking at things from their perspective and explaining why, although some people in the fanbase might feel betrayed, none of the three (yes, three, because Steven, Ryan, and Shane were all equal parts of this decision) personally betrayed anyone in the fandom. If you're still angry, I understand that seeing what might seem like a "defense" might be upsetting, but again, I hope you'll find some value in it regardless.

All of that said, that plus my extensive criticism of this decision is going to be long, so let's go beneath a cut.

First, let us state the obvious: Watcher Entertainment is a media company -- a business -- and Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara, and Steven Lim are not your friends. They are business owners first, and media producers + actors second.

I italicized actors to draw attention to it, because this is something that I think gets . . . not forgotten, per se, but pushed aside in people's minds when they consume video content online, particularly when that video content is on YouTube, which originally began as a point and shoot video upload website that was meant to give anyone and everyone the ability to upload their vlogs or silly little videos. The term "parasocial relationships" is one that has proliferated across the internet, but I think the issue here -- with Shane and Ryan in particular -- is not only that people are thinking of them as "friends," but also that they are thinking, "These are their authentic selves, this is who they really are, I know them." And the fact of the matter is, that isn't true. Shane and Ryan are actors. What we see in their videos isn't their authentic selves. We don't know them.

Now, that isn't to say that it's all a lie. It isn't quite the same as, say, Ryan Gosling or Leo DiCaprio playing a role in a film. But every internet celebrity (and that is what they are at this point) presents themselves in a particular way to their audience. Even in the Pod Watcher podcast, where ostensibly they're having Just Friendly Conversations About Whatever's On Their Minds, they're mindful of the fact that their audience is listening, their audience is judging, their audience is making gifs and fanart of moments they like. They're acting. They're playing up personas to keep fans engaged, to keep fans coming back for more.

So Shane and Ryan (and Steven, when he can be) are actors. You don't know their true authentic selves, and you never have. Anything they say has to be taken with a grain of salt, because they are saying what they want you to hear. Even their live shows are rehearsed. And what this means -- that they only show you what they want to show you -- is that they did not betray you, because they couldn't betray you. They don't know you, just like you don't know them. Betrayal is not possible here.

To that end, Watcher Entertainment is a media company -- in other words, a business. And businesses must generate not only revenue, but profit in order to stay afloat. Now, I don't know what Watcher's financial books look like right now. I have seen people throwing around a lot of numbers about what they have to make from Patreon, from ticket and merchandise sales, et cetera, but without looking at the expense reports, the bank statements, and the budget sheets, it's difficult for any of us to say just what state Watcher is in financially. We can guess, but that's the best we can do.

That said though, we don't have to guess to know the very basic principle of running a business. A business has to, at the bare minimum, break even. Ideally, the business would profit, so that they can not only do things like pay their employees fairly, but also so that they can expand and grow. Any business requires money in order to make product, whether that product is food, an item that you can purchase, or entertainment media that you consume as a viewer. As nice as it would be if Watcher could make their content without needing money to do so, they can't. Even independent YouTubers, including video essayists and Let's Players, require money to make their content. The equipment, in both purchasing and upkeep, requires money. The games (for Let's Players) require money. Internet and electricity bills, food, books needed for research, props, et cetera -- all of that requires money. No matter how simple a video may look, it still requires money to make. There is a reason that most people aren't able to make YouTube a full time job, and it isn't because they aren't talented; it's because it is a deceptively expensive venture to get into.

So with that said, even without knowing Watcher's current financial situation, it does make sense that they need money to run their business, purely from a "businesses need money" standpoint. This is common sense. This is why things like Watcher selling merchandise, having sponsored ads, having a Patreon, et cetera always made sense. And it is possible, too, that even if their present financial situation is okay, that they are thinking about the future, and costs they are likely to be incurring within the next year.

I don't know how many people within the fanbase listen to their podcast, Pod Watcher, but I do. A few episodes ago, Steven revealed that he wants to open a Malaysian restaurant within the next year. This is his dream, to bring Malaysian culture to the United States with food. This is an amazing dream for him, it's wonderful for him, I wish him success in this venture.

However, running a restaurant -- and not only running one, but building one from the ground up and running it -- takes an astronomical amount of time and energy. This is time and energy that Steven is currently expending keeping Watcher Entertainment afloat as the sole person in charge of managing their financials. (He has the official title of CEO, with Shane and Ryan having stepped away from that title In Name Only to focus on production, but the job that Steven is actually doing is CFO -- Chief Financial Officer.) So when Steven announced that he was going to be opening a restaurant within the next year, what I heard was, "Oh, Steven is leaving Watcher within the next year." This is supported, in my opinion, by Steven saying things like how Shane and Ryan will get free drinks whenever they visit, and then hastily tacking on fans can have it, too. He was trying not to show that he was leaving just yet to the fanbase, but the writing is on the wall and they all know it.

What this means is that when Steven leaves, they will need to find someone to replace him. Either Shane and/or Ryan will need to step away from producing and acting in their shows to take over CFO duties (which the reason why they stepped away is because they handled CFO duties poorly while Steven was better equipped for it, so I doubt either of them would like to do this), or they will need to hire someone to do that for them. The lowest CFO salary in LA I can find is $140k/year, and that isn't including benefits. Since Steven helped found the company, it's doubtful he's making that much, but his replacement won't be a founder and will likely want competitive compensation. There is a good chance that, considering this, Shane, Ryan, and Steven feel pressured to bring in a lot more money than they're currently doing right now.

And I understand all of that. I have supported them where I can; yesterday I literally wore my $80+ Mystery Files jacket to work, which felt a bit bitter after the news broke and I realized I wouldn't be able to watch future seasons of said show. I overpaid for a denim jacket because I wanted to support them. It's not as if I don't understand.

However . . . here is where the criticism begins.

To begin with, there is an old saying: you have to spend money to make money. To go back to my previous statements about how even smaller scale YouTubers spend money to keep producing videos to keep their channels afloat, what this saying means is that if you aren't going to put any money into your business or product, you aren't going to have a business or product to generate any revenue. However, some young business owners take this to the extreme, and figure that if they pump tons and tons and tons of cash into their business at the start, it will start to generate revenue more quickly. What ends up happening is that they overspend, sometimes even despite their best efforts not to, and end up not being able to claw their way back out of the red in the end.

Unfortunately, that is what I think that Watcher is doing with their new streamer.

Let's be clear: There have been valid criticisms about how they seemingly over-budget on shows that don't need to have such high production values or budget. Someone mentioned that their Let's Play show (I don't watch that one because horror games are uninteresting to me, so I don't remember the name) credits something akin to 26 people, which is silly when you consider the fact that there are independent Let's Players who are able to produce content themselves. Of course, you have to remember that the LPers on YouTube are editing their own videos, which Ryan and Shane probably aren't able to do -- but even then, that would be one or perhaps two additional editors. The number of people they have working on that particular venture does seem excessive.

With that said though, those 26 people were already employed and being paid, so having them work on the Let's Play show was likely not a new business expense. The streamer, however, is a completely different story.

First, they had to have paid likely multiple people to build the WatcherTV streaming website for them. Granted, I could be wrong since I have never used Squarespace, but I find it difficult to believe this is something Squarespace would be capable of handling. So unless they already had experienced programmers on their staff, they would have had to hire programmers to build the streaming website. They would also need to pay for hosting the streaming website, which includes not only the domain, but server space for all of their videos, and videos take up a lot of space. Previously, YouTube hosted all of their videos. Now? That needs to be on Watcher, and server space and maintenance is not cheap.

So they are paying for programmers, domain name, server space, server maintenance. They are also going to need to pay for security. Not only do they need to be concerned about any potential DDoS attempts, but more importantly they need security to ensure that they can't suffer a data breach and lose the credit card information of their subscribers, something which happens all the time to other companies. Now you may say, if it happens all the time and those companies are fine, Watcher will be too, right? Well, does Watcher have lawyers on retainer? Because litigation can be raised against companies with insufficient website security that puts customers' financial information at risk, which means Watcher could find themselves facing a lawsuit if their streamer is hacked and credit card information is stolen.

So they will need to pay for systems administrators to not only build security for the streamer, but also maintain security for the streamer, because cyber attacks evolve each day and it is a constant battle against them. It is possible that whatever third party they partnered with to build the streamer for them bundled all this together (if that is the route they went), but either way, services like that do not come cheap -- and if they do, you are not getting a service of value.

So what this comes down to is that Watcher Entertainment has likely spent a ton of money they allegedly do not have to build this streamer, taking the "you have to spend money to make money" adage to the extreme. Their hope, near as I can tell, is that they will generate enough revenue from the streamer so that they will be able to recoup the cost of building and maintaining the streamer and generate profit. However, judging by the reaction from the fandom, I think that is unlikely.

As everyone knows, the reaction to this news has been abysmal. While some of the responses toward Steven and Ryan in particular have been racist vomit, I do think there are valid reasons for why this news has been received so poorly. These reasons include:

Watcher built hype for a week, with a countdown timer and everything, teasing an announcement as if it were a new show or similar "gift" to the fandom, when in reality it was the news that the fandom would now have to pay for content that was previously free.

Patreon subscribers are expected to continue paying the same amount, but for far less content than before. Access to the streamer is not included in the basic tier; they'll need to double their cash output.

Many fans are international fans who can't access the streamer at all without a VPN to switch their location to the United States. Even if they want to pay, they are barred from doing so, meaning that Watcher Entertainment is shutting a large portion of its fanbase out for the foreseeable future.

Watcher took a very patronizing tone with their audience in both the announcement video and their Patreon letter. In the announcement video, which was fourteen minutes long when the actual pertinent information took half that time to deliver (if that), they began with a long diatribe about their careers and how much YouTube meant to them, and how sad they were to leave it -- as if they had guns held to their head, and weren't making this decision of their own volition. This is condescending; it implies they believe their audience is stupid enough to believe they were backed into a corner and have no choice. In the Patreon letter, they had a line that read, "And part of that change includes a bit of news that will surely be met with some fits of sobs- we're bringing Watcher Weekly+ to a close. We know. We know." Again, this is patronizing language. They are talking down to their fans, and assuming their fans will be heartbroken by losing a behind scenes the video, or whatever Watcher Weekly+ is. This arrogant, condescending tone does not help soften the blow of being told they are going to pay the same amount of money for less content.

As you can see, the way that Watcher Entertainment executed the announcement that they would be moving future content behind a paywall was abysmal, and the fanbase reacted accordingly. Provided that the anger isn't empty and that the current fanbase sticks true to their word about not subscribing (either out of principle, location, or because they can't afford it), Watcher Entertainment has lost a huge chunk of expected revenue directly out of the gate. And it's possible that they expected this; they had to know they would be shutting out international fans (at least for a time, presumably) and that there would be fans who couldn't afford it. But it's possible that they felt that there would be enough fans to support and subscribe anyway (hence the arrogant tone about people sobbing over losing Watcher Weekly+; that attitude screams of "you're so devoted to us you will do whatever we ask no matter the cost"), and also that they would be able to pick up enough new fans that it would cushion the blow of losing old fans.

Here is where the next problem lies.

Watcher's current subscription model is $5.99/month or $60/year. If you go monthly, you end up paying $72 for the year, so the annual plan is the better deal by $12. When you compare pricing to other streaming services, this may not seem so bad at first; it's on par with DropoutTV, and it's cheaper than Netflix, Disney+, and other big names such as those.

The difference, though, is that all of those other streamers -- DropoutTV included -- have far more content than Watcher does, meaning that the customer (and keep in mind that we are customers, we are not friends, and truly we are not fans when we are paying them money for product from their business) gets more bang for their buck.

I have seen the argument from defenders of the streamer in fandom that say, "So you care about quantity over quality?" And this argument is flawed for several reasons:

There are plenty of quality TV shows on other streaming platforms. DropoutTV has Game Changer. Hulu has Schitt's Creek and Abbot Elementary. Peacock has The Office and Parks & Recreation, so on and so forth. Watcher Entertainment has good shows, but they are not the only good shows in the whole of the media industry. Dare I say, they aren't even the only good shows on YouTube.

While Watcher does produce shows of high quality, their shows have tiny seasons of only six episodes each, and their seasons are spaced out months apart. They also cancel their shows without warning or announcement, meaning fans can wait (and wait, and wait) for a new season of a show they like that will never come, because Watcher dropped the show and didn't bother making official word on it. If you go through Watcher's entire content library (which is easy to do even if you like all their shows, and even easier if you only have a handful of shows you enjoy), then you will be paying for a streamer that you do not use for months on end while you wait for the next batch of six episodes that you maybe want to see if, again, you don't like all of their shows. (I myself only follow five: Puppet History, Mystery Files, Too Many Spirits, Top 5 Beatdown, and Ghost Files.) That is money you have spent on a service you rarely use. In other words: money wasted.

That last point is particularly important when you consider that Watcher Entertainment hopes to draw new customers in to subscribe to their streamer.

Pretend, for a moment, that you have never heard of Ryan, Shane, or Watcher before. You are browsing YouTube, and you come across the season premier of season three of Ghost Files. You enjoy it, so you think, oh, I would like to view the rest of the season. You learn that the rest of the season is on a streaming service called WatcherTV, which only hosts series that Watcher themselves have produced. Their library is very small right now. New episodes for ongoing seasons are weekly, they only have one season airing at a time, new seasons have month long gaps between them. This service costs $60 a year annually, or $6 a month ($72 annually). You've never seen any of their other shows before, and while you could technically afford it, it's not as if money is no object to you. You'd likely have to give up a streamer that has a much, much larger selection of shows and movies you already know you like to give this one a shot. (This one that, mind you, doesn't work outside of your internet browser, so you can't watch it on your television either.)

Would you do it? Really put yourselves in the shoes of someone who has no familiarity at all with Shane, Ryan, Steven, or their shows before that moment. Would you choose to pay $60 for a streamer with low accessibility, and a tiny, infrequently updated library? Especially if it meant losing access to so much more?

It isn't just that numerical value of the price that makes it a bad move. It's the price relative to the product being offered. Watcher's own fans, who love their content, are fiercely divided over whether to subscribe, with many saying they won't. In what universe does someone who has never heard of Watcher sign up to pay them that much for so little offerings? Particularly when they'll only be advertising via YouTube, and infrequently at that given that they'll only be posting season premiers?

(And this is not getting into how they were originally going to pull all of their content before the backlash. Yes, they walked it back -- but not only did they say in the video that the content would only be live until May 31st, but the Variety article says that the company originally told Variety that they would be pulling content, only for Ryan to issue a statement saying they wouldn't do that after. Meaning, they walked that part back because that's the part they could walk back. They have undoubtedly sank far too much money into the streamer to back out of that now. It's way too late.)

Businesses need to make money. Steven, Ryan, and Shane are business owners who are trying to make their business profitable. But I believe that this was one of the worst ways to go about it. I'm not saying that I know exactly what they should have done instead. I don't have all the answers. But I do know that from the terrible execution of getting everyone excited only to tell them (in the most patronizing way possible) that they would now have to pay for a previously free service, to deciding to sink a bunch of money into a streamer that they seem to have done no market research on beforehand and that they don't have the content library to support, this absolutely seems like the wrong way. Moving their content to an existing streamer like Nebula would have been a better move, in my opinion. (And it would have prompted me to actually sign up for Nebula, since there are several video essayists I haven't followed there . . . but I would have followed Watcher, since it would give me access to Watcher content and the content of those video essayists I've been missing.)

But what's done is done. As I said, I think at this point Watcher Entertainment has jumped off the cliff and they didn't do so with a bungee cable. I don't think they can walk this back. I'll be interested in seeing if they succeed, but I have very strong doubts they will.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim

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mentallyisekaid · 6 months

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「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 2 ✦ 」

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Part 1 [Part 2] Part 2.5 Part 3

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

Author's note ~ From this chapter forward, Y/N will develop a strong, somewhat intimate bond with her fellow Harbingers, but it's still, essentially, platonic. After coming up with the full storyline for this series, I figured it'd best to keep romance to a minimum, so it won't distract me or the readers from what's happening plotwise. But make no mistake - all of them care quite fiercely about you... it's not labelled "Harbingers x Reader" for nothing :) And of course, you're free to interpret their relationship in any kind of way you prefer <3

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Featured in this chapter, we have (drum roll, if you please)... Scaramouche, Childe and Columbina!

Warnings: brief/indirect spoilers regarding Sumeru's Archon quest and Scaramouche's lore

Word count: 3k

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A month had passed since the funeral, and the day you'd become the 12th of the Fatui Harbingers at Pierro's request. Truth to be told, you hardly cared whether such a dubious position had been offered to you out of respect for Rosalyne's legacy, or merely because they'd wanted to keep an eye on the immortal girl who possessed two Visions.

For the past five centuries, your life had lacked any clear purpose - perhaps this new title could change things to something a bit more... colorful?

Perhaps they could be the change.

On that note, there was something quite peculiar you'd come to notice about the infamous Harbingers.

Despite joining their ranks, you had kept the reason behind your questionable situation as a secret, so on a very essential level they still knew next to nothing about you (except for the Director who definitely knew enough to make you very uncomfortable!) In this regard, shouldn't they have considered you a stranger, or at least a high security risk?

Yes, yes they should have.

Yet not only did they treat you as one of their own, but it appeared that for some reason, these people cared about you to an extent beyond just professional relationships, always looking out for you in weird ways, like making sure you didn't overwork yourself, stayed healthy and never lacked any weird luxuries like expensive bath salts - that, and the fact that they were almost constantly lingering around you...

As someone who'd grown used to getting by on their own, you didn't really know what to make of their behavior. Or how to return it.

But did you dislike it? Not really. Why? Well, you were still sort of figuring that out.

You were currently sitting in Pantalone's office, looking through some financial reports while the Regrator himself was away on a business trip. As things stood, this was pretty much all that your title as a Harbinger was good for - assisting your colleagues by handling the less direct approaches to their duties as diplomats of Snezhnaya. It was only natural that you weren't yet expected, or trusted, to do any actual fieldwork.

So, your days were mostly spent being surrounded by endless piles of documents...

*knock, knock!*

...and them, as you might have guessed.

You sighed, placing the papers down on the desk when another round of impatient knocks came in. Clearly, that someone was going to invite themselves in regardless of your answer, and it wasn't hard to narrow down the list of possible suspects since only the highest ranking members of the Fatui were allowed in this part of the headquarters - frankly, the doors here tended not to be Harbinger-proof?

But it's not as if you really minded, breaktime was due anyway. Also, their company was always vastly more entertaining than work!

"It's not locked, you know" you commented, leaning back on your chair.

A scoff was heard before the door was rudely pushed open, and an unfamiliar character marched with such arrogance you'd think they owned the place. This made you raise an eyebrow; what an admirable sense of superiority? It wasn't someone you'd met before, but judging from the way they carried themselves, you recognized them nonetheless.

The man with child-like features (and a rather beautiful face) stopped in the middle of the room, staring curiously, though somewhat condescendingly, at the girl behind the desk.

"Are you," he started, "perchance the Director's newest recruit?"

"It's already been a month, but I suppose... in any case, what can I do for you, mister?"

"Mister?" The Harbinger crossed his arms, both amused and irked by your way of addressing him. "Ha, do you not know who I am?"

"Oh, no, I'm fairly certain I do," you sighed. "A presumptuous attitude, and a strikingly non-traditional kasa hat... the Balladeer, I presume? I heard you were busy playing a god in Sumeru with one of Dottore's segments, so I thought it might be a while before I get to meet the last one of my colleagues. But here you are - Scaramouche, was it? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He was being rude too, you were just returning the discourtesy.

Scaramouche held back a chuckle, the bells from his hat jingling.

"Ah, yes, that would be me. And as to why I bothered coming all the way from Sumeru just to meet you, miss Twelfth..."

"I have a name. It's Y/N."

He clicked his tongue, taking a step closer.

"Yes, yes, whatever. Now, sit there and listen. I was in the middle of my little experiment on blasphemy when I suddenly heard that the Jester had recruited a new Harbinger, who, incidentally, has two Visions and is supposedly immortal - but she blatantly refuses to reveal anything about herself. Surely, you can imagine my slight annoyance at this, seeing as you, on the other hand, seem to know an awful lot about us."

You smiled a bit, fiddling with the quill pen in your hand.

"Yes, I don't exactly go around advertising my past to others. But aren't you same in that regard, Scaramouche?"

"I won't amuse you by answering that." He smiled eerily. "The point is, I don't like being kept in the dark - it gives people the chance to stab me in the back, and that's not something I'm particularly fond of."

"Ask the Director, then. I can assure you he knows all kinds of scandalous things about me - about all of us, no doubt."

He shrugged. "That won't be necessary."

In the blink of an eye, Scaramouche was no longer where he'd been standing before. The Sixth Harbinger had suddenly jumped on top of your desk, scattering the paperwork you'd spent hours organizing. He leaned forward with a smug look on his face, grabbing your chin between his delicate fingers.

"So, our little miss Harbinger refuses to reveal her secrets? We'll get those out of you, don't you worry~"

"My goodness?" Your previously dull eyes sparkled a bit. "What a bold move - it's certainly... something. I must say, I find your character quite fascinating, Balladeer."

"Likewise."

Behind that ruthless, indigo gaze, was a forlorn soul that had faced so much injustice...

When travelling around Teyvat for the past centuries, you'd caught bits and pieces of hearsay about Scaramouche's tragic past - most of it probably accurate. But it wouldn't have been wise to bring up such matters when you'd only just met him, especially since the Balladeer was widely known for his foul temper.

Though, judging from the way was looking at you, he probably knew what you were thinking. Even so, there was no ill intent in his eyes.

A new voice suddenly interrupted your odd encounter.

"I hope you're not harrassing our princess, dearest Scara!"

Tartaglia waltzed in to the office with an ominous smile. Scaramouche jumped down from your desk, scoffing at the sight of his ginger colleague.

"Ha, barely! I just happen to find her very intriguing."

Childe laughed a bit, stepping forward to pat your head.

"Well, I did tell you she was special, comrade. And to think you didn't believe me? Yet, here I find you. It seems Y/N Lohefalter is capable of drawing the attention of even the Balladeer himself, ahahhah~"

You followed their interaction, thoroughly entertained - compared to your previous uneventful life, this was certainly refreshing.

"Foolish boys," yet another familiar voice was heard, and Columbina strode in gracefully. "Avoiding your work to disturb Y/N with these shameful antics? Pierro would be quite displeased. Now, perish."

Damselette then turned her attention on you, smiling sweetly.

"Would you like to have an afternoon snack with me? I hope you've been eating enough, my dove."

"Now, now, don't be greedy..." Scaramouche taunted. "It's rather obvious that she and I were having a conversation."

You smiled a bit, pointing at each one of them with your pen.

"Technically, you're all are here equally uninvited. And on that note - as much as I'd rather do anything else right now - I really should continue with these documents or they're going to pile up..."

"Hey now, you know Pantalone doesn't like it when you overwork yourself, Y/N," Childe pointed out, crossing his arms.

Columbina smiled gently. "Yes, how about we go and have some tea instead?~"

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at this.

"You sure speak to this girl in an unprofessional manner, Tartaglia, Damselette - if I didn't know better, I'd say it sounds almost intimate. Trying to snatch her away from me, perhaps? But you've already known her for a month; it ought to be my turn to get acquainted with our new little Harbinger. Y/N and I have some things to discuss, after all..."

"Oh?" Childe raised an eyebrow. "Then what exactly were you and her chatting so intimately about before I came?"

"Enlighten us, Balladeer," Columbina chuckled.

You shook your head a bit.

"Let's not go down that rabbit hole-"

"No." Scaramouche cut you off with a smug expression. "These two, and the rest of them... would agree with the opinion I shared with you, don't you think? Surely it's something that we've all been wondering about."

Columbina and Childe shared a brief but knowing look - it wasn't hard to guess what the Balladeer had said to you, and though he should have gone about it a more discreet manner, they couldn't deny their curiosity either.

The angel-like Harbinger walked next to you, brushing back a loose strand of hair from your face.

"I'd rather hear this from you," she hummed.

Her touch was a little cold but gentle, not at all unpleasant. You just weren't used to this kind of physical intimacy, or rather, it had been so long since you'd experienced any kind of intimacy, that it caught you a bit off-guard whenever your co-workers offered these weird gestures. It's not like you... really minded this. But it did make it hard to refuse when they the asked you for something.

You sighed, leaning back on the chair.

"Of course, I... know you're all somewhat displeased that I'm keeping these secrets from you, about my past, that is - how I've lived for this long, and how it's possible that have two Visions. It might be difficult for you to trust me because of this, but even so, I am not obliged to reveal anything. And you know as well as I do that the Jester already knows what there is to be known; he wouldn't have let me join otherwise."

Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, not content with your answer.

"Yes, but I also know that the Director is a man of his principles - either those secrets are shared of your own accord, or not at all."

"Then maybe you don't need to know? Maybe you're better off not knowing?"

Tartaglia frowned, leaning against the wall next you.

"Being a part of the Fatui already means that we're in way over our heads when it comes to anything questionable that's going on in Teyvat. Your... situation, is included in that, even more so because you're one of us now. And in case it's not clear yet, we do care about our own, even if that often gets a bit lost behind our agendas and differences." He put a hand on your shoulder and offered a reassuring smile. "So, we'd like to know more about you, Y/N. I'm sure that's what Scaramouche has been trying to tell you too, albeit he has a weird way of choosing his words."

The Balladeer crossed his arms. "What a speech, Childe." It sounded like a snide remark, you somehow sensed that he didn't mean it as one.

"For once, I agree with these two," Columbina said. "Though both are going about this in a rather thoughtless manner. Regardless of her past and whether or not she chooses to disclose it, she is a Harbinger - and that does not necessarily mean we should know all these things about her. Her only responsibility is to serve the Tsaritsa, after all."

She smiled at you. "But it is a shame you don't seem to trust us very much, Y/N."

Reverse psychology? Smooth.

"I think you've misunderstood me, though. It's not about trust."

You stood up from Pantalone's fancy office chair, stretching a bit.

"At this point, revealing those things might or might not cost me, but I'm pretty sure I won't gain anything from it either. If that's the case - well, is survival not about keeping the trump cards you have, or at least not giving them away for free? And information is often more valuable than Mora."

"You sound like the Regrator, though I'm sure he would disagree about the Mora part." Tartaglia chuckled. "But I like the way you think! So, what is it that you'd like in return for those secrets?"

"I'd be happy to arrange whatever it is~" Columbina singsonged. "Within the bounds of good taste, of course."

Scaramouche clicked his tongue. "What an insufferable girl - what is it you want, then?"

You tilted your head, wondering why these people were so invested in you. One day, you'd surely understand... but in this moment, you could only think about their offer and how it was just slightly too tempting to refuse.

"Well, right now, I'm craving for some excitement. Something more thrilling than this paperwork I'm drowning in day after day. I don't suppose one of you has a solution for that?"

Columbina's soft laughter jingled in the air.

Scaramouche was glaring at you.

Childe's eyes were sparkling.

"Excitement, you say?!" the ginger exclaimed. "Oh, that won't be a problem. How about we make a little bet, Y/N?"

"I'm listening."

"Let's fight a bit~ I've been wanting to see what you're capable of, and a match against the Eleventh Harbinger is far from playing around, so I'm sure it would prove exciting enough for you." He nodded toward the two gemstones hanging from your belt. "Use those Visions, any weapons and all the shenanigans you can possibly come up with - if you think you can. I promise to make it worth your while. Naturally, you'd have to share some of your past in exchange..."

You raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "...if you manage to win, that is?"

Columbina chuckled. "Careful, Y/N. You'll get Tartaglia too excited~"

Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure you understand what you're agreeing to, miss Twelfth. But by all means, go play with this idiot - I'll gladly come and watch, it ought to be entertaining. The next phase of my mission in Sumeru is not due in a while anyway." (And if by some miracle you do manage to beat Childe, I'll come up with other ways of discovering those secrets.)

The Balladeer as well had grown quite captivated by you.

Childe smiled innocently. "How about it, Y/N? Are you in?"

"You bet."

---

...who in their right mind had recruited this maniac?

Sure, the Harbingers had inhuman abilities, but this was pure madness. Tartaglia had yet to even demonstrate his Hydro powers, much less a Delusion, but merely by using his agility and a pair of escrima sticks he had already brought you to your knees.

It's not as if you considered yourself to be a particularly skilled fighter, but you did have five centuries' worth more experience than him, and quite a few tricks up in your sleeve. But Childe only ever gave you the time to use your polearm - no Visions, no shenanigans - and even so, you didn't manage to land a single hit on him.

You lay on the floor of the training grounds, breathlessly gazing up at Tartaglia who was pinning you down with his knee.

"Ready to yield, girlie?"

"Ha... I'm not, *huff*, giving up that easily..."

He smiled, putting a bit more pressure on your chest - not in a painful way, but it was still enough to diminish your remaining fighting spirit rather quickly.

"Alright, alright, fine... please, *huff*... stop, Tartaglia... I, *huff*... give... up..."

"You can call me Ajax, by the way."

The ginger stood up, gazing down at you with a grin on his face. Well, at least now you knew that the rumors about his martial arts prowess weren't exaggerated? Neither was the fact that whenever he did fight, there was this euphoric (honestly a bit scary) aura around him. Reminder - think twice before you accept a challenge from this guy in the future!

That said, you had quite enjoyed yourself...

Ajax offered his hand to you, and you meekly took it, allowing him to pull you up from the ground.

Columbina and Scaramouche, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, appeared slightly amused and certainly pleased by the end of your struggle. This outcome had been more or less expected, but ever so welcome. A Harbinger never backed on their word, after all~

"Now then, my angel..."

"...you better keep that promise."

The three of them led you to a small lounge, dimly lit by a fireplace and deserted from any members of Fatui. Exhausted, you slouched down on a couch and closed your eyes.

Damselette came next to you wordlessly, laying down and letting her head rest on your lap. This was a habit of hers that you didn't mind; while admittedly rather intimate, it was something like this that you had long yearned for.

Childe leaned against a nearby wall, smiling at you encouragingly. For some reason, you always felt at ease around him. He was like an "older" sibling - more than she ever was, the one you'd already lost before her death.

The Balladeer was sitting on an armchair, observing you with an unreadable expression. The slight softness in those cold eyes was perhaps only noticed by you; an abandoned soul recognizes its own kind.

"Now then, Ajax, Scaramouche and Columbina. Allow me to tell you a story - one that discloses how my first Vision came to be. While I'm at it, I suppose I might as well reveal why Rosalyne and I shared such a difficult relationship..."

(to be continued)

#harbingers x reader #genshin impact x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #signora's sister reader #signora's sister #platonic genshin x reader #but it's VERY INTIMATELY platonic #scaramouche #columbina #childe #platonic scaramouche x reader #platonic columbina x reader #platonic childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin

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bigmakxp · 9 months

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Monty isn’t jealous, envious or wants to take Freddy’s place nor does he hate him either.

Spoilers for Ruin btw!!

So the popular theory right now that everyone’s claiming to be canon is that Monty was jealous of Bonnie and Freddy and decommissioned Bonnie to be in the band and makes his way up in the band and take Freddy’s place as well. The most popular reason for this theory is because of the Monty Golf ARcade game that shows Monty as the lead while Freddy’s in the trash. At first glance, I can see why people fall for this and think Monty wants Freddy’s place in the band but there’s some evidence that suggests otherwise.

1. The faz watch message Monty mischief makes it clear that Monty has missed main stage performances more than once to stay in Monty Golf, The place where he was once just a one man band in his own attraction (info thanks to ruin). If people are claiming that he was the one who decommissioned Bonnie out of spite or malice or fame why would he bail on his position that he went to such “great lengths” to get? Like I’m genuinely curious how it fits.

2. People never talk about this. Just moments before in the game we heard Vanessa threatening to scrap Freddy if he was involved protecting Gregory and Monty would run the shows. Now I know she said that his casing would be slapped on a new endo and it would be a temporary thing but his endo, Freddy’s true essence and person (or robot) would be scrapped thrown in the trash. Sound familiar? A certain AR game depicting just that? Nope not a clue.. /s

3. So your not convinced still? Fine. One of the endings of security breach has Gregory and Freddy driving off in a van and just who did they put in Freddy’s position as the lead? Yup. Monty. And they created an entirely new animatronic as a 4th member, glamrock mr. hippo. The decisions of fazbear entertainment is… questionable. But this proves that game is not Monty’s true intentions or desires it’s more of the company’s desires if anything. He might just be pushed into situations that he has little control over.

So in Ruin, in the Monty golf ride there’s a scene of cardboard cutouts of Bonnie, chica, Roxanne and Freddy, the original four glamrocks while Monty is looking in admiration and starry eyes. However, Freddy’s is in the shadows so people assume that Monty definitely dislikes Freddy. I think people are reading to into this though as this could have another meaning too. Call this a bit on the nose here but hear me out.

Freddy is the only one who is not present in the pizzaplex or the entirety of the ruin story. Or at least his proper head isn’t and there’s a headless prototype attacking you. Point is every cutout that has lights on them is still in the pizzaplex activated or deactivated and that includes Bonnie.

It’s just astounding that people draw these conclusions about Monty based on sources that probably weren’t even made by him or might not reflect his personality and claim it as canon. The information that we get in ruin still makes most of Monty’s character vague and non-confirming. As much as I try to accept the theories that Monty really does envy Freddy and decommissioned Bonnie on purpose I just can’t. Cause a lot of the contrasting evidence sticks out like a sore thumb.

I’d like some feedback on this whether you agree or disagree I’d like to hear different pov and interpretations on this.

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf ruin #montgomery gator #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #five nights at freddy's #monty gator

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cherrirui-official · 5 months

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Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 2/7)

PART 2 BAYBEE WAHOOO!! Three more gijinka designs comin right up!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there’s gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I’ll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) This also contains a small amount of blood on one of the images!!

@saltydkart-reblogs

And that’s pretty much it, designs under the cut!

JOE:

The reason Joe dislikes most bird pokemon such as fletchling is because they're always stealing and pecking at the olives he... or well more specifically his company grows.

Speaking of which, they own a large plot of land which is used specifically to grow olive trees, which of course are used to make the olive oil he sells. What? Did you think that the olives come from Joe themselves? Of course not silly, welcome to capitalism.

That being said, Joe DOES know how to garden. When they first started their olive oil company they had to grow their own olive trees. Nowadays, in their spare time, they'll sometimes be found tending to the olive trees in their company's garden.

His crown is personally tailored for Joe and Joe ONLY. Crafted with the shiniest gold and the richest olives, all fit for a king! Somehow it never falls of his head. (Fun fact: the points are made to look like olive oil bottles)

Joe needs glasses but usually wears contacts when in public. Not that they look bad with glasses, it's just a personal choice.

Joe LOVES being involved in... well, anything! As long as it's not weird or sexual or illegal (that last one counts UNLESS it involves scamming others into buying his oil products), he is more than happy to invite himself into whatever is going on around him. What are you going to do? Stop him? Oh please!

HANNAH Ü:

At the start of her career, she would spend her days doing her own one-man (or.. well... woman) shows at subway stations, telling stories and entertaining other pokemon and people alike while they waited for the next train to arrive.

Her hat and cape are made entirely of salt! She is able to transform her cape and hat into different shapes and usually used this ability of hers to make stuff such as accessories, hats, and props that fit the role she's donning at the time.

Hannah LOVES collecting stickers and often wears them proudly on her body (in her poke form ofc ofc). However, she usually has to get someone else to stick them onto her bc of her lack of actual hands.

Some of her improv roles are inspired by the people she meets while others are inspired by pieces of media she's interested in at the moment.

Will ABSOLUTELY learn a new language if she needs to for a role. Duolingo speedrun world record

MYKYIE:

As stated previously, Mykyie used to be a circus performer before he quit to pursue his dreams. His most popular act involved him spinning plates on a stick while standing on a ball.

^^^ Because of this, he also has really, REALLY good balance.

Mykyie always keeps his Miku glowsticks on him, even when not attending any of her concerts.

"Anger Point" is basically an uncontrollable form of last resort whenever Mykyie is close to death but can still fight, it usually leads to him attacking whoever or whatever caused him great harm (In the instance of Lark, it was when he crit Mykyie and the ladder's health was extremely low.)

The Miku tattoo on Mykyie's arm was designed by Mykyie himself! However, it was drawn on him by an anonymous underground artist who went by many names to hide his true identity. The name that the artist went by at the time Mykyie got his tattoo was "Cl@ir33"

The cuffs and cape that he wears are... well, WERE, red. An unknown force seems to be slowly turning them into a shade of blue.

And that's all the HCs for now! Next Gijinka batch will consist of GrAce, Braidy, and Christene's

Also here's the posterless version of Joe's Gijinka bio before I go

#So far out of all the drawings I did for each Gijinka. Joe's has taken the most time #can u guess why?#It wasn't supposed to have the posters originally but I had that thought while working on Hannah and Mykyie's drawings #and I thought that would be hilarious if I went through with it so now we're here #Gee Joe! How come you get TWO versions of your gijinka bio?#Joe originally wasnt gonna have glasses but then the edited vids came out and his design in those vids has him w glasses #and so I wanted to see what my design looked like with glasses and oh... oh!! They look very handsome with them #My version of Joe gets glasses... as a treat!#it doesnt show their gijinka design with glasses here but maybe if someone asks ill draw him w glasses #Also Mykyie finally got a redesign LETS GOOOOOOOOO!!!#Personally I love how his hair turned out it reminds me of marble desserts and now im hungry :[#And Hannah has only rlly appeared in one discord doodle and the rlly epic funeral home drawing I made that I still think to this day slaps!#a knee ways TAGS!!!#friendlocke #friendlocke violet #violet gijinka au #saltydkdan #cherris canvas #cw light blood #tw light blood

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bangtanfanfiction · 3 months

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love at first squat? → k. sunwoo

Listen I'm a whore for Sunwoo this comeback. I will use every opportunity to praise that beautiful man.

♢ Pairing: Sunwoo x Gym rat!Reader → Idol AU

♢ Word count: 2.2k

♢ Genre: Fluff, suggestive, established relationship

⌲ Description: Inviting you to join him at the gym with his members was supposed to be a cute outing. Instead Sunwoo is left speechless and probably more in love than he thought possible. ↳ Warnings: Cursing, horny thoughts, mentions of sex, Sunwoo is ready to call you mommy (jk. maybe not. idk)

Listen.

Sunwoo wasn’t stupid, okay.

Besides his obvious talent for being annoyingly witty, he considered himself to be fairly intelligent.

Which is why he was quite certain there were very few situations these days that would make him feel like an idiot.

But here he was. Feeling like a complete, flustered idiot.

All because of you.

Okay fair enough, it was his fault this situation happened at all. But still.

Being a twenty-three-year-old man, Sunwoo doubted there was much in the world that could turn him back into a speechless, bubbling idiot after being in the entertainment industry as long as he had.

He’s seen it all. Over-the-top performances, beautiful idols, arenas filled to the brim as well as anything negative to follow those specific areas.

And so Sunwoo had the brilliant idea of wanting to spend some time with you today that didn’t just include laying around and eating a bunch of snacks.

Something cute, y’know. Wholesome. Instagram worthy without the posting etc, etc. You get the idea.

Since it’s only been six months since the two of you started dating officially, after all. He had to keep the fun going somehow.

He was also confident that he knew most of your likes and dislikes at this point.

For instance, Sunwoo knew you loved the gym. You were 110% a gym girl with nearly all stereotypes to follow.

He rarely saw you outside of comfy hoodies and sweats. He knew about your strict five-day workout routine you kept to almost religiously. He knew you struggled with fulfilling your needed protein count every day because you always complained to him about it.

In all honesty, Sunwoo shouldn’t have been as surprised to actually see you in a gym environment. He knew you were fit and healthy - Of course he did. He‘s seen your naked body more times than he could count at this point.

But all those times had also been in a private relaxed space. Often after eating takeout with a bloated stomach each.

So when some of his very avid gym-going members asked if he wanted to join them, he further stretched that invitation to you. Hoping to get a day spent together out of it.

He had never seen you reply to something as quick as that.

You had met him in front of the private gym their personal trainer owned a walking distance away from the company. Dressed in a comfortable loose set of white sweats and matching hoodie, a black gym bag swung over your shoulder as you skipped the last distance towards him, launching into a tight hug.

“Hi.” Sunwoo smiled down at you, brushed away some stray hair falling into your face.

“Hi.” You returned it with a wide grin, leaning up on your toes to press a series of pecks on his irresistible lips, like an overbearing mother without the maternal instinct obviously.

“Missed me?” It had been a little over a week since you last managed to meet up in the midst of their recent comeback.

And God, what a comeback that was.

“I always do.” You were never shy of your affection towards him, even to the point of making him shy in front of his members. “It’s unfair how perfect this comeback fits you.”

Your fingers flicked his parted hair with a wink.

Sunwoo only kept grinning - you had already shared your very enthusiastic opinion of him five minutes after the MV had dropped, texting a whole paragraph on how beautiful he looked and how your possessive nature might just turn deadly. (Jokingly, that is)

You had been in his shared dorm with Chanhee, Changmin and Younghoon spread throughout the living room and kitchen, tucked into the corner of their L-formed couch as you watched their most recent live performance - Sunwoo right beside you, waiting for your reaction.

He had paid careful attention, especially when his part had come on. You had watched the entire video silently with a completely straight face.

Chanhee would forever hold his trauma over your heads having been a witness to see you dragging Sunwoo to his room by the front of his shirt, locking the door audibly with a click before the sounds of thumping music came on to hide the sounds of your very obvious antics.

They didn't need to listen to know what the two of you were up to. Not with how Sunwoo seemed to be on cloud nine the rest of the week.

("Best fucking blowjob ever.")

Your screen saver was later a picture of his iconic part in 'Watch it'.

His hand slid a little lower at the memory, against the visible dip of your lower back and perky ass. One of his favourite physical traits on you, and Sunwoo would never be ashamed of being an ass man.

Shaking his head, he gave your butt a fond tap as you both made your way inside the building. The other members were already inside; Sangyeon, Jaehyun, Kevin, and Eric were in various positions stretching their bodies.

You greeted them all cheerily with a wave and grin, before thanking their PT for allowing you to use the gym.

Sunwoo was half listening to their workouts planned out while also glancing at you through his peripheral vision - curiosity driving him to see you for the first time in a gym together.

You were obviously in the zone, within a corner of the private gym, not wanting to get in their way.

He saw you tipping back a dry scoop of pre-workout and washing it down, before stretching just like them. You were still patiently at it as he began his first workout, falling into the same concentration with his members scattered around him doing their own things; their PT walking around and fixing any details.

Sunwoo had just finished all his sets of a lat pulldown when the praise came from Sangyeon in a disbelieving mutter, stopping in his DB shoulder presses.

“Whoa, that’s insane.”

Turning around, Sunwoo’s cough mid-water sip was not subtle.

You were on whatever set of your hip thrusts, 200kg worth of plates on the bar as you breathed in concentration, not even aware of how much attention you had drawn. Your soundproof headphones made sure of it.

You had shed the hoodie and sweats, only a pair of navy blue shorts and an oversized t-shirt he recognized as his, tucked into the band of your sports bra behind as you pushed through. The bar clattered slightly as you dropped back down. With a relieved sigh, you stood up only to flinch in shock to see him and his members still staring.

Pushing back the headphones, you gave an awkward smile. “Hi?”

Sangyeon walked forward with an admiring grin. “Y/N that’s crazy! How long did it take you to get you that weight?” The two of you easily fell into conversation with Sunwoo still on mute.

You had always clicked quickly with his oldest member, being such big gym goers to the point of obsession. Where Sunwoo also enjoyed going to the gym, he didn’t see it as his priority besides aesthetic pleasure.

Not that he didn’t appreciate those who did.

Speaking of...His eyes started to trail down your body.

How the shorts were clinging to your quads, muscles shifting as your feet moved on the spot while talking, to your damn impressive round ass - frankly looking huge with the pump it had just gone through. He could see a sliver of skin from where your t-shirt was tucked up, showing off the lean lines of your strong back.

God, Sunwoo was certain your quads were bigger than his head (They were).

Despite your makeup-free face, flushed skin, and sweat coating it - you had never looked hotter to him.

“Give us a warning if you’re planning to go crazy.” Kevin’s voice snickering next to him snapped Sunwoo out of his stupor.

“Huh?”

His hyung didn’t stop smirking knowingly. “You’re drooling. So if you’re planning to drag her away, at least warn us of the trauma of witnessing something we don’t want to.”

A blush spread across his face and the tip of his ears as Sunwoo complained. “Ah, hyung! I’m not going to do that.”

He had more decency than that. (Not really.)

Glancing over again, he watched as Sangyeon was helping you rerack the weights and moving the bar to a squat position -your next workout - the two of you moving with surety in every move around the equipment.

You gave him a perfect view of your ass again as you bent to pick up the last plate, the muscles of your hamstrings tightening impressively, his head tilting to follow the movement.

Sunwoo wondered how he had never noticed that detail before.

He would have to appreciate your body again (very) carefully once he got the chance.

If it weren’t for the rough push Kevin put on his shoulder to continue with his workout, Sunwoo would have probably just stood there staring to his own embarrassment.

“Baby, can you spot me?”

You waited in patient amusement for his double take at the weights resting on the squat rack before his brows furrowed.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll have to save me if anything happens.”

You snorted out a laugh, his deadpan sense of humour was always a weakness of yours. Making you laugh with a simple sentence even if said in complete seriousness.

“I’m not hitting over my max today, so you’re good.” You only chuckled, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you slowly, as if coaxing a frightened animal. Only this one kept his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Nothing is gonna happen, I just need a little bit of support on the last rep.”

“What support am I supposed to give?” Sunwoo eyed the plates carefully, voice flat. “That’s more than my body weight.”

Giving him a quick look up and down; dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants with a fitting tank top, you gave the vision of absolute innocence. “Visual support.”

Kevin, who was quick to get your innuendo from the bench next to you, laughed out loud. Before Sunwoo could comprehend what you meant, you had already moved into position for the squat.

Sunwoo could only shake his head as he carefully shifted into a supporting position behind you, knees bending alongside your form but never touching.

"Fine, but if I break something you're taking my place in promotions."

"I'm sure Deobi's will love me more than you anyways." You stuck out your tongue in retort before starting with a huff.

He could see your strain by the seventh rep, thighs shaking and face scrunching up in concentration.

But he saw the determination. And despite the risk of his demise, Sunwoo moved closer.

“You got it, come on.” He encouraged you, gently tapping your hip as you let out a large breath and pushed up, succeeding without him having to risk his life.

“Okay, you two, enough of the lovey-dovey, back to work Sunwoo.” Their PT called out lightly.

About an hour later, you were resting after finishing stretching, casually leaning against the wall with a hip popped out and scrolling through your phone when Sunwoo snuck up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your body flush against his chest.

“Hi.” You only smiled up over your shoulder. “All finished?”

“You’re being unfair,” Was all he said, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and shoulder, tickling you as you squirmed.

“About what?” You laughed.

“Distracting me…” He mumbled with a pout. “I could hardly concentrate this entire session. I think I fell in love all over again."

"If I knew my legs were so powerful I would have squatted in front of you on our first meeting."

Sunwoo bit his lower lip to hide a smile. "Love at first squat, you say?"

“Unless you're just jealous of my thighs, that is.” Despite the flutter of your heart, you continued to tease him lightly, stretching out a leg and tightening your muscles still pumped out from your session. “I’ll teach you how to get them.”

Sunwoo hummed lowly against your ear, and you knew he was plotting something.

“I’d rather be buried between them.”

Your scandalous gasp was loud as you whirled around to slap his chest, catching the attention of the rest of the guys who were cleaning up.

“Kim Sunwoo, we are in public!” You whisper-shouted in mortification. It was his turn to smirk at you in satisfaction, only giving an innocent shrug.

“Ugh, Sunwoo is being indecent, hyung. Scold him.” Eric called out with an exaggerated shudder, turning to Sangyeon. The leader only sighed exasperated. Already far too used to you and Sunwoo's shows of PDA.

“You didn’t even hear what I said,” Sunwoo called out.

“I didn’t have to! Y/N proved it.”

“Well maybe I offered her ice scream and she got overjoyed.” He retorted, their usual bickering starting up again.

“Suuuure, if ice cream meant fu-”

“OKAY!” Sangyeon exclaimed loudly before Eric could finish that sentence, causing a fit of snickers from the others watching, as well as your furious blush spreading as you hid behind the palm of your hand. “Let’s not finish that, Youngjae-ah.”

Eric sucked in his lips with a mischievous glint, shoulders shaking in muted laughter.

Just as everyone finished cleaning up and you put your outer layers back on - Kevin sidled up to you casually, slinging a friendly arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the building and down the street.

You both watched Sunwoo take a running start before jumping on Eric’s unsuspecting back as they both stumbled with the maknae’s dramatic complaint of his sore legs echoing.

“You should probably cross out working out together.” Kevin had a shit-eating grin on his face. “You know, for public decency.”

“Oh shut up.”

Thank you for reading!

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agendabymooner · 11 months

Text

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (2)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: It's 2014. Tilly fills up the position temporarily as Red Bull's Communication Liaison and meets the man she spoke to all those years ago in Dubai... only for her to realize that he's her best friend's Team Principal. Lewis Hamilton is more than amused with her situation, if anything.

Content warning: Age gap, mentions of an absence of a father figure, brief use of explicit language, mentions of nepotism, discussion of mental health and burnouts. Platonic!Lewis Hamilton content, Platonic!Daniel Ricciardo content. Fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). One character is fictional but came from a family (Ford family). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: This is actually my demon time. I took a break from posting too much Danny Ric even if I love him sm (this fic needs attention a little bit). Should I make him go feral and chaotic again? I dunno. But anyways, here's for the Toto stans. Please tell me what you think in many ways - reblog and reply even! Enjoy xx

ii. tilly marie wants to go to hell

Tilly Marie.

That is the name that hides everything that relates to my life and purpose. Truthfully, everyone knows who I am, but I act like a stranger to everyone who works in the location during the races. Everyone has heard of my name but never really knew what I look like. Of course, they would know who I am. I’m sharing my surname with the man who partially owned three teams— all through his shares.

Julius Hearth is a billionaire who invested much more in motorsport than he should have in his racing career. Instead of becoming a professional driver, he remains a billionaire, relatively close to creating a monopoly in the racing industry.

A greedy man, they call him. He dislikes the idea of being unable to control his businesses. He could have sold his shares before, yet he keeps a tight grip over each of his holdings and keeps his position in each team as an executive. He’s not even the one at the race right now. He has his daughter act on his behalf and play his part in keeping his teams popular.

The surname Hearth is practically engraved in each team’s zones. I hate it. Wherever I go, even if I hadn’t attended a grand prix for a while now, eyes would settle on me. Everyone knows my name. I hate it. It should have been Ford instead, maybe I would have allowed it.

And so I stuck with Tilly Marie. Tilly Hearth catches the eyes of everyone in the racing industry. Tilly Marie is just a woman with access to three zones and additional pit access from her friend. Tilly Hearth is for business— for handling problems and solutions in media outlets and communications.

Now that I think of it, I remember considering quitting my job before I was even told to attend the British GP. Have you ever been so exhausted from doing what you love? Or is that something not really something you desire?

I enjoy writing fashion and design articles for everyone’s entertainment. But to be told you’ll be given a better angle on the following magazine issues and still drooling after that promise? Now that’s just an embarrassment.

Everyone I’m close to knows how badly I am treated at the company. Their sympathy came with advice to leave the company. Yet, despite the gratitude that I felt, I refuse to resign. I have faith in my career. They’ll give me a better angle soon enough. Or not.

One of the many people who told me to quit is here standing behind the gate. His tightly braided hair is covered with a branded cap. His chest is covered in a white polo. He stands there with a cheeky grin as he holds his arms out. Lewis Hamilton never failed to make me smile.

He engulfs me with a tight embrace and lifts me slightly in joy. We have not even exchanged words yet, but I am already smiling widely.

“Oh, Tilly, I thought you wouldn't come!” Lewis exclaims once that he puts me down. I straighten my slightly wrinkled skirt and look at him with a questioning frown. “You’re going to watch me win in person this time!”

“You act like I don’t see you almost every month,” I scoff, shaking my head at his pout.

“You haven’t attended any of my races for almost six years,” he points out, referring to his championship when he was in McLaren. That’s how we met. My father was bored and had decided to buy a part of McLaren, Lewis’ first team. I hung around him more often during the past few seasons while I consulted with my father’s other teams - Scuderia Ferrari and Red Bull. Lewis values our friendship more than his team, as we remained friends after he departed from McLaren.

I was going to protest and defend myself, but he cut me off before I could even talk. “You were working hard at Vogue, I know,” he rolls his eyes before he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as we walk down the Mercedes zone. He still has an assistant with him, and she’s nice enough to ensure that Lewis isn’t doing something stupid like getting our photos taken by paps while his arm is around me. I can see the headlines we’ll make if they see me.

Tilly Hearth’s Comeback Spiced Up by Forbidden Romance as She Snuggles with Mercedes Driver

The Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous: Lewis Hamilton Seen Cozying Up with the Hearth Group Heiress

He continues, “I love you. You know that, right?”

I nod as he playfully scolds me, “Then why aren’t you listening to me? To your three sisters, even? You’re writing a smaller piece in a magazine for how long? Six years? Why don’t you quit and find a better opportunity?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I frown, slightly shoving him away while his arm remains wrapped around me. I try kicking him in the leg, but he quickly avoids my attack as he laughs. People that walked past scowl at us. “I knew I should’ve stayed on the Red Bull pit.”

“In my year of winning? At the British GP?” He scoffs haughtily. “You wound me, Tilly Marie.”

“And while I’m against the idea of staying in your paddock, I’m glad we can agree on calling me by that name so I'm staying because I love you that much,” I grin, kissing him on the cheek as we arrive at the Mercedes hospitality.

Indeed, I haven’t attended a race for a while now. Putting more time into my job would give me a way to a promotion or an opportunity to publish a meaningful piece in the magazine. But as years go on, I’m slowly backing away from that optimism. So being in this event… yeah, I think I’ll choose this lifestyle once more over that god-awful thing I call a career.

Still, why haven’t I quit yet? I have little faith in them. I might as well resign. But this advice came from other people. It didn’t come from me. They cannot change my mind, and I wish I’m not this stubborn and stupid. I wish Lewis would bang my head against the wall to get me to quit.

I know that I have more options if I quit. But even then, I know my options will come straight from my surname and father. Nepotism follows me wherever I go; even if it’s inevitable, I try to control the fire before it spreads. I know that using my name will not help me learn more.

Even Lewis knows how much it’ll affect my career in a different industry. One that isn’t racing. It’s bad enough that everyone knows me by name, but to use it proudly? Yeah no. Lewis keeps me humbled by calling me Tilly Marie. I love him because of that.

All of those thoughts have left me alone when I hear a voice ring out behind the two of us. One that calls for Lewis, which has my friend turning around. Out of curiosity and instinct, I immediately turned around to see who called for him.

Would it be a shame to admit that the man you met eight years ago looked as handsome as before? No. Maybe not.

My eyes respectfully move from his attractive face down to the polo that he’s wearing. Slight chest hair peeking out from the unbuttoned collars as my eyes finally look at the title on his chest.

Team Principal

Mercedes AMG Petronas

While it’s not something to be ashamed of, admitting that the older man is attractive will cause bloodshed. One that would begin with Lewis.

I must admit the man in front of me makes me nervous now that I have grown older. My legs will turn jelly if I hear his accent again.

“Ah, you have a guest,” the older man smiles at me almost charmingly.

My legs didn’t turn into jelly. But I wish I had gone to hell earlier than expected because of the heat I can feel on my face. All because of this man.

Lewis doesn’t catch the reddening of my cheeks. Instead, he nudges me with a grin, saying, “Of course I have. You know how I want people to watch me win.”

“I like that confidence,” the man chuckles, probably still staring at me while my eyes remain on the floor.

Lewis nudges me again, leaving me to clutch the strap of the bag that nearly fell off my shoulder. I glare at him, and he doesn’t see it as he introduces me, “Tils! This is Toto Wolff. He’s the Mercedes team principal. Toto, this is Tilly Marie. She’s a friend.”

I can’t longer avoid his eyes as I look up at his dark eyes. I have forgotten how to speak briefly before I clear my throat and greet the man, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolff.”

His stare isn’t intimidating. That’s what I think, but my body says otherwise. Suddenly, the hospitality feels 30 degrees celsius hotter because of his look.

But he doesn’t say anything about my obvious situation, and with Lewis not saying anything, I assume he doesn’t notice. The team principal then extends his hand in my direction as his accent leaves a tingling sensation in my ears with the words, “It’s lovely to meet you. Miss…?”

Oh um. Shit.

Suddenly the roller coaster in my stomach fades as I stammer, “Hearth. Tilly. Tilly Marie.” I immediately reach for his hand to shake as I shudder slightly. God, those hands are cold. I still shake his hand like a fan excited to meet her idol. Lewis, god loves him, has immediately put a stop to it by putting an arm on my side.

Not realizing I'm still holding his hand, I immediately pull away and offer Toto a sheepish smile and apology. I’m 28, turning 29. I’m not 18. I’m still acting like a child.

But my internal dialogue is interrupted by a hum coming out from Toto. He watches me move in one place, assumingely unable to reply for a moment. He's thinking of something and it's unnerving.

The silence doesn’t last long as he finally asks, “Are you Julius Hearth’s relative, by any chance? You look a bit like him.”

I immediately answer, my voice slightly cracking, saying, “Yes. Yes. I’m the eldest daughter.”

Knowing my family history, Lewis winces at the title I used to describe myself. Even he knows that this is a sore spot for me.

“Ah,” Toto hums in understanding, nodding at the response while he looks around. It seems our surroundings don't interest him, all while people around us are beginning to whisper at the drop of my name and relationship with a prominent figure in the racing business.

Nevertheless, he ignores the whispering and instead tells me, “It’s surprising to see you here, Miss Hearth—“

“Just call me Tilly,” I immediately interrupted him with the insistence of a worried person. “Tilly works just fine.”

He doesn’t blink at it, even if I can tell he has a question or so at my insistence. He continues regardless, “Well, Tilly, it’s surprising to see you here, in a rival team’s hospitality.”

I only laugh at that. I laugh at him like he’s an idiot. Or the other way around. He’s calling me an imbecile in his head now, I tell myself as I watch his brows wrinkle slightly.

I tell him, “I’m here as a friend of your driver, Mr. Wolff. And I can hardly be biased about teams seeing as Julius purchased some shares from almost each. There are no playing favourites in my book.”

“Is that right?” He asks with amusement in his voice.

“I like to play fair,” I shrug and offer him a grin, “besides, I’m not as good at interpreting races as he is. I’m only here to keep their head checked before they can lash out in front of the cameras.”

He likes that response even though I mentioned I have limited motorsport knowledge. He chuckles again, nodding in my direction and at Lewis, who I have almost forgotten is with me.

He doesn’t say anything to me anymore and tells Lewis, “Remember your interview.”

“Yes, sir,” Lewis nods at him.

Toto looks at me again and suggests, “Miss Tilly, you should be in our zone more often.”

For once, my face hasn’t flushed. I offer him a grateful smile and joke, “It’s a bad idea to give me such a privilege. I suppose you’ll see more of me then, Mr. Wolff.”

“Call me Toto, liebling,” Toto tells me with a wink, “besides, I won’t complain if I see you here— I might as well snatch you up from Red Bull and McLaren, hm? Or is Ferrari also a competition I have to fight for?”

He turns around and leaves the premise, walking away from us with a big smile while Lewis and I remain silent.

There’s a scoff that leaves Lewis’ mouth. I watch him shake his head and ask, “What? Did I do something?”

“No, no, love,” Lewis answers, chuckling in disbelief as he says, “I can’t believe I just watched my boss hit on my best friend.”

“Who says you’re my best friend? Sylv, Steve and Aims are my best friends,” I scoff.

“Stevie, Sylvie and Aimee are your sisters, love. There’s a big difference–whatever, you were just flirting with my boss!” He exclaims, making other people look at us at the abrupt loudness.

I wish I had gone to hell earlier.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one smau #formula one x oc #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #mercedes amg imagine #mercedes imagine #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #daniel ricciardo x ofc

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months

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Hi, hope you're having a good day/afternoon/evening. Do you write stuff about Hellboy? If yes, could you plesase do gn!verytall!reader x Nuada, where he takes a dislike on them, but somehow catches feelings, but he can't and will not accept that and reader don't know why they're locked in their dungeons and just wait for their death. Nuada has a goal: eliminate all humans. However, he doesn't know if he should include reader. If you're not into Hellboy, forget I asked anything. I like your prompts by the way.

What’s up with me and liking these kinds of characters…I guess we’ll never know. 🦦

It probably wasn’t your smartest move in separating from the group to pursue a lead in finding prince Nuada on your own because whatever delusion you were riding on at the time that made you think that you stood a chance at besting him. A man who’s movements were as fast, swift and as fluid as a cold breeze.

It might as well be considered a death sentence to fight Nuada on your own. Something you should’ve taken into consideration for as soon after your brief one sided fight, which had Nuada dominating for most of it. But instead of delivering the killing blow with his lance, Nuada had decided to take you as a prisoner and had you flung into one of his dungeons until you friends come to retrieve you or for death to greet you first; So while you waited for either outcome, you began trying to find creative ways as to entertain yourself.

Meanwhile Nuada was finding himself to be at odds with himself over his resolve but mostly over you, a pathetic, greedy, hollow human being. No better then the others in his eyes and yet Nuada found his feelings of resentment, anger and anguish he held towards the human race, having dwindled the moment your eyes met his as he held his lance closely to your throat. Nuada knew that he could’ve finished you off like he had done to countless others but why were you the one to make him falter, to question his resolve, his purpose and cast an ember of warmth within his heart?

What made you so special in comparison to the others, whom he had so easily had snuffed the lives from? Why was it that throughout your fight did he not take full advantage of your openings, your weaknesses then and there? Nuada was given so many golden opportunities to rid himself of yet another filthy human, but something deep down inside was telling him to not bring you any more harm than he already had. Naturally Nuada assumed it was some magical trickery that you possessed in order to mess with his mind, however it was documented that you had no such gifted ability like Liz; You were just an ordinary human like any other who thought they couldn’t do no wrong, while simultaneously standing by and doing nothing to bring about change in the nature of your people.

This only proved to piss and confuse Nuada even more. You were rotting in his dungeons and yet you still manage to haunt his mind like a ghost. Hell he could visualise you so vividly and so real within his own head, making sure to get every feature of yours right, that he could almost reach out and actually touch you and be able to feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips, feeling your muscles move beneath his touch, followed by your sharp inhale at the unsuspecting contact from him.

You distracted Nuada from what he felt was most important, form what he set out to do and he wasn’t one to leave any unfinished business, not when he was close to achieving his ultimate goal in eradicating all mankind, so much so that he could practically taste it on his tongue. However there was a slight problem with that, for if he were to eradicate all humans, that would naturally include you in that; The one human who had made a home within his unwilling heart and he didn’t know what to make of it because once again he was heavily conflicted, for his heart had grown to find some semblance of enjoyment within your company, much to his dismay.

‘How could I have allowed myself to become so weak!’ Nuada hissed to himself as his once relaxed hands became fists within a blink of an eye. ‘My head and heart have both betrayed me with their conjoined weakness towards that..human.’ He adds bitterly, adamant in even uttering the word human. It felt both vile and wrong to Nuada in naming those who’s inherent greed and corruption had put him in his current position; He felt as though he was doing a disservice to his own people for feeling any kind of way towards the enemy, and yet his heart couldn’t help but become more and more intrigued by you.

Had things played out a little differently just what would your relationship with him be? His heart would wonder aloud.

They’re a human, you fool! There will never be a relationship between them and us, for we’d only end with a knife within our backs. Nuada’s mind would reply, not wanting to ever show an ounce of weakness towards the enemy, not when he was so fucking close to finishing it.

It was within your human nature to be cruel, to lack empathy, kindness and compassion and yet Nuada felt an uncertainty in whether or not he wanted you dead with the rest of humanity. Would it be considered hypocrisy if he were to keep you alive while everyone else is dead? Maybe but he would deal with the consequences of his actions for a later date.

For now he had to confront you about how you’ve made him feel recently.

#prince nuada x reader #prince nuada imagines #prince nuada imagine #nuada x reader #nuada imagine #nuada x you #nuada imagines #prince nuada x you

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glorianamultistan · 1 year

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Kim Jongin x Male Reader

Summary:- Y/n (omega) got married to Jongin (Alpha) who has a one-year-old son. The carrier parent of Subin passed away two months right after the birth while being comatose. It was becoming harder for Jongin, the CEO of a successful entertainment company and a renowned artist himself, to handle the infant with nannies so this marriage was arranged by his mother, like his last one, who wanted to take care of her son and wanted him happy.

Content :- omegaverse, domestic, a little heat at the end.

I don't own the pic

Part 1

Y/n was not ready for everything that just got forced upon him, but throughout his life, he was made to realise the importance of being a good and supportive partner to his Alpha, and so when he was married to a guy whom he just saw from afar once in real life, in a party organised by his own parents, he just had to follow simple instructions given to him by his mother and then by his partner.

It was an arrangement to benefit both parties. The widower Alpha will get someone to take care of his child and the young omega will get a partner who holds a strong social position. Not only this, the Alpha had an image of impeccable behavior and there was never a question of him being disrespectful to any person without a very valid reason.

It was decided that the marriage will be a mere legal agreement ceremony in a courtroom because it has not been a year still of the death of Alpha's last partner. This was a good thing in y/n opinion too as he was not ready to face a crowd and be the center of attention.

After the whole process was done, a ritualistic picture was taken and y/n was led by Jongin to the car waiting for them outside the court.

The car ride to the house was comfortably quiet for y/n. Jongin was constantly on his tab looking over documents and when they reached the house he got out first to help the omega get out from the other side. It was a decently big house, more like a mansion but it was built in a way that could be described best with the words 'subtle magnificence'.

When Jongin led y/n inside the younger was surprised by the interior, though he came from a privileged background himself, he never imagined a place could look so modern yet regal at the same time. "I hope you will be comfortable here, I got all the old portraits removed and we will get our done soon." Jongin was saying all of this while looking directly at y/n's face while y/n had his eyes down, he was clearly not comfortable with the Alpha as of now.

"Do you want to meet Subin?" Y/n looked up at Jongin's face and saw a light smile after the Alpha asked him the question. "Can I?", y/n whispered. "Yes, you are supposed to help me with him, so, let's meet him, he should be up, it is still one only." "Okay."

Again Jongin went ahead and led them to the nursery on the first floor, it was the most beautiful baby's room y/n ever saw, and Subin was in the crib while a person was cleaning the room. "Good afternoon sir." "Good afternoon Mr Yang, this is y/n, my new husband as you know already, and y/n this is Mr Yang, he looked after Subin whenever I was not here, he's the house help we have and you can trust him with anything. He will also tell you all about Subin's likes and dislikes." "Good afternoon." Y/n bowed. "Good afternoon sir."

Mr Yang left the room and y/n went closer to the crib with Jongin. "He is... so precious." y/n wasn't able to form words properly as the child smiled at his father and made cute noises. "Yes, he is, I hope you will be good with him and treat him like your own child." Jongin picked Subin up and started playing with him. "Can I hold him?" "Yes, yes."

As y/n held Subin, his omega cooed at the child, it was a blissful moment for him and the child became very comfortable in y/n's arms, so much so that he started dosing off due to the pheromones of y/n. "He's such an adorable child Mr Jongin, I think I love him already." This was the loudest y/n has been till now in Jongin's presence.

"You don't need to be so formal with me y/n, I am your husband not boss. I don't want you to get intimidated by me. I won't be present at home a lot but you can always call my assistant and he will definitely make sure your problems are solved, rest you have Mr Yang too." "But, I am younger than you, so what am I supposed to call you?" "How about Jongin-ssi?" "Okay."

"Let me show you the kitchen and the bedroom, your luggage will be here soon so don't worry about that there are two closets so you can choose whichever you want and if you like mine I will shift to the other one, there is no problem." While following Jongin through the house y/n was feeling uncomfortable due to all the attention to detail about his choice which the alpha was showing as y/n felt that it was too much for him to do, according to y/n's upbringing he should be the one who should compromise for the alpha, not the other way around.

"This is the master bedroom, well I rarely sleep here now as it is too lonely to be by myself after my partner passed away. We were not that close but their heat ended up with the pregnancy so there is that. I hope you can be at home here." "Jongin-ssi, I will be very comfortable in a lot less too, please don't worry about my likes, I should be the one to worry about you as you are the alpha."

"Y/n... Who told you that?" "My parents and the teachers." "Oh y/n, is that why you have been silent all along?" "Yes." Y/n nodded affirmingly.

"Listen, come, sit here, not that far, here beside me." Jongin made y/n sit near him on the bed. "I am not your boss, not your superior or your owner or your only priority too to be honest. I am just an alpha by chance and so you are omega by chance. This in no way means you are inferior than me or you have to listen to my every demand. That is wrong on so many levels." "But... I was taught this only, to take care of the child and be there for you when you need me." "Oh my God y/n!? Seriously who taught you that!? No wait, I know

who. Just, forget all that, and try to live a life, please. You do have to care for Subin but that doesn't mean you are a servant or anything, you are a parent y/n."

"O-okay." It was hard for y/n to get used to such things but in a week everything sorted itself out. His luggage was delivered and he chose the already empty closet, he was taking care of Subin and often made food for Kai when he wanted to make a special dish, though the Alpha was always late to arrive and y/n had only seen him once in the bed when he woke up around 5 am to drink water and check up on Subin and saw the elder beside him.

There was no awkwardness between them, which was surprising enough for Mr. Yang to comment too "you both act like you have been married for ages, I was ready for some tension but it is a smooth sailing." Y/n blushed at the comment and went to the nursery, he was mostly there only, the child was too precious according to him to be left alone.

Subin liked y/n, it was very much clear by the way the boy smiled and giggled when y/n played with him, and often when Subin made a mess with food y/n fed him and cleaned him while singing to him, so much to the liking of the child that he slept right after it.

It was around seven in the evening when y/n left Subin's room as the child fell asleep after his dinner, he went to the kitchen and saw a note from Mr. Yang stating "please don't make dinner, sir said he would be bringing it." Y/n saw that and went to the hall to wait for the Alpha's return, and Kai came back around seven thirty.

"Welcome home." "Oh! Thank you. I thought you might like to have something from the outside today for a change so I got us pasta from my friend's restaurant and some wine, I hope it is okay with you." "Yes, thank you so much for this. I missed having pasta so much, how did you know?" "I asked your mother what you liked and after a lot of insisting that it has to be something specific and not 'everything' she asked the cook to tell me what you actually liked." Y/n was shocked, to think that Kai would go that far just to ask for a dish was incomprehensible for the omega raised to say yes to everything done by his Alpha.

"Oh don't cry, it was nothing much really." "Huh?" without realising, y/n was in tears. "I- I am, I don't know, just, thank you. I never thought I would be treated like this so, it is a lot to take, sorry." "I hope I have raised some expectations in that sense then, y/n, you are a good person, you should be treated well and respectfully. Now let's go and have dinner, I will shower later." "Okay."

The dinner was great, to eat with Kai sitting right in front of him and enjoying, really enjoying time with other person felt nice to y/n, it was a new feeling he is getting addicted to due to his alpha.

After the dinner y/n washed the plates and the glasses and left to check Subin once more before sleeping. When he reached the master bedroom and opened the door, he felt like he just stepped into a heat-inducing chamber. There was Kai, wrapped in a night robe that clearly did not hide his defined chest, and to top it off he was drying his hair with a towel while looking at something on his phone.

"Won't you come in?" "Huh?" For the second time in the night, y/n was speechless. "You have been standing there for quite some time y/n, oh! Is my outfit making you uncomfortable!? Wait! I will change into pajamas." "No!" y/n screamed. "No, I just - don't, like, it is okay, I am okay, I was just a bit surprised as I did not really think before coming in." "It is your room too y/n, you should not be thinking before coming in."

Y/n went and sat on his side of the bed and tried hard to focus on his phone and not on the half-exposed body of his husband. "Uhm, y/n, your scent, it is increasing intensely, are you okay?" "Y-yes I am okay, just, it happens." "Oh, it is, such a nice lavender smell though, very comforting." "Thank you."

Now y/n was blushing beyond help. They switched off the lights and slept off, but around one at night y/n was in trouble, it was not the time for his heat but the symptoms were too intense to be overlooked, he tried really hard to not let his mind wander and stay put but lost it when Kai suddenly grabbed his waist and pulled him so that he was spooned by the alpha, then he heard what made his pride break "y/n, precious, you are in heat, so suddenly, hmm" Kai rubbed the tip of his nose at the back of omega's neck and whispered more "was looking at me like that enough to make you this wet? I should take the responsibility then, hmm?"

Y/n could just whimper "a-alp-ha!" "shh!! There there, we should not lose control like this." Kai pulled both of them up and made y/n straddle him, "look at me y/n" and so he did, "you are so beautiful, and so loveable, I want us to be more connected before we cross the line, so I will help you through it but not knot you, I hope you can understand it." "ye-yes. Please but, help, please." before y/n can say anything more, Kai kissed him and the touches he left all over y/n body and the relief he provided to the omega through the night was something y/n would think about and blush for upcoming weeks.

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

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dairy-farmer · 5 months

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Hello! I finally found the courage to publicly create an account, and take this time to give you your flowers. You have single-handedly gotten me into the dc fandom (cough Tim Drake fandom cough) with your works alone. Your Piquancy series is one of my favourite fandom works ever, and I reread it every other month. Each story has its own appeal and the way you write is sublime! (Special shoutout to the icon, the legend, i want you to notice (when i'm not around) You're probably my favorite writer by a long shot, every single thing that you write just hits different. I also sent you a couple of ask prompts anonymously (Tim fixing a plate, Timber + Brutim Initials necklace, and Brutim Whump+ Damitim Marriage), and the way you turned those prompts into drabbles just made my day!

I know that fandom ain't that serious, but I just wanted to give you your flowers for inspiring this little trans girl from a third world country to start writing despite the language barrier. 🫶

Anyway, I have come bearing a prompt, a gift, feel free to add onto it, I know you'd do this prompt justice (or ignore this part completely)

Brutim + One-sided Damitim | Tim gets pregnant out of petty spite

Damian and Tim never got along, even after all these years working together, and the promises of Dick and Bruce of Damian growing out of his mean streak. There wasn't been a day where the two youngest Waynes haven't butted heads. This isn't to say that they never tried to get along, well, Tim did try. He tried being the bigger person, only for it to backfire as Damian saw this as a moment of weakness to further intensify his wrath towards the previous robin. Tim tried bonding with the brat by trying to engage with him using his interests, but Damian usually reacted by mockery followed by an insult or five.

Furthermore, Dick is always on Tim's case about being there for Damian, and actually exert some effort into forming a relationship with the al Ghul. No matter how many times Tim trying to explain their situation, he is only met with a disappointed look and a reminder that he's the older one so it's his responsibility to be the bigger person.

The breaking point was one day where almost everyone in the Batfamily was in the manor while Tim was running late from a meeting with Waynetech. Once, he got to the manor, to his surprise, Alfred wasn't there to greet him by the door, so he just went inside. He found everyone with the exception of Bruce in the entertainment room as they were all bonding over a card game. He was honestly shocked by this sight.

He first noticed how much of a teenager Damian actually is. He was no longer the cold-blooded trained assassin from the league, nor the violent sidekick of Batman. He looked like an average teenage boy while he laughed at one of Jason's quips, while giving Duke a high-five. Tim felt like an outsider, his insecurity about his position with the Wayne always loomed over his head. He tries not to think about how the robin mantle was ripped away from him by dick, or how he's technically emancipated from Bruce, as he watches Steph give Damian a noogie while he playfully swatted her back. When the hell did they become that close?

Tim makes his presence known, and while majority of the group welcomes him, the familiar sneer of Damian is all he could focus on. Cass whispers into Damian's ear while they both look at Tim, and his sneer becomes more intense. Tim could definitely tell that the room was less lively due to his sudden appearance. Tired from running Bruce's company, and hurt by the youngest Wayne's irrational dislike towards him. He had to let out his frustration, one way or the other.

"What the hell is your problem, Damian?" Tim shouted at the teen, silence fills the room as all attention turns to Tim.

"Your presence enough is a problem, Drake" Damian retorts while Cass squeezes Damian's arm whether for comfort or warning, Tim doesn't know.

"It's been years, why are you so desperate to keep me away from this family? What did I do to you?" Tim feels his tears coming, but he needed to know why Damian unreasonably hated him.

"I will never see you as family, Drake." There it is, the undeniable truth. Damian will never accept him as family. His vision is blurred by his tears as he runs out of the room. Behind him, he could hear Dick reprimand Damian for saying something hurtful, yet Tim doesn't hear a proclamation that Tim is part of the family. What Tim doesn't see is how the youngest Wayne is white out of shock from the words that left his mouth.

Tim instinctually runs to the place in the manor that gives him the most comfort, Bruce's bedroom. The room is dark as he enters and jumps under the covers. He is too caught up with his emotions that he fails to realize the warm body beside him. A familiar strong pair of arms envelop him, and the commanding deep voice is heard behind him. "What's wrong, ducky?" Tim bursts into tears as he puts his head on Bruce's hairy chest, the older man hands naturally rubs Tim's back for comfort. Tim just cries his heart out, and Bruce's presence is enough to comfort him, probably the only thing in this world that comforts him. He's been in a relationship with Bruce since the appearance of Damian, and he'd been ready to go public until Damian's disapproval of Tim made itself known. Despite, Bruce's willingness to go public immediately so he could proclaim his love for his ducky for the world to see, Tim knew that they needed to go about this carefully. This is why Tim was so adamant of forming a good relationship with Bruce's only biological son, he wanted this family as a united front from the judgement and vitriol they would inevitably receive once they go public. However, after years of trying, he finally got his answer that he will never obtain this acceptance.

"You finally okay now, Ducky?" Tim breaks from his stupor by Bruce's calm voice.

"I'm finally ready, Bruce."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes" Tim smiles up at Bruce, the tears had made his face flush beautifully. "Let's have a baby."

A few months later, Bruce called for a emergency family meeting, and announces that there would be a new addition to the family. Jason makes an off-comment about who did Bruce knock up now, until Tim enters the room and stands beside Bruce, with a visible baby bump. Everyone is rationally shocked by this announcement, then appalled by the implications of this relationship. Damian though, looks like the world just crashed in his eyes. Beyond the sketchy circumstances of how their relationship began, they were undeniably good for one another. It took a while but everyone slowly had gotten used to the change in the family, all except Damian who can't bear being in the same room with the two.

Around a year later, baby Damon Wayne is born to the surprise of everyone outside the family. (A last petty retaliation from Tim towards Damian.) As expected, the public sensationalizes Tim and Bruce's relationship since Bruce knew Tim since he was a child. The Justice League expresses their concern over this relationship, but no matter what they tried, they can't find a fault or outside influence within the relationship.

Tim took to motherhood beautifully, quitting his stressful CEO job, and deciding that he rather stay at home while taking care of baby Damon. A gradual shift occurred where he became Bruce Wayne's protege to Brucie Wayne's little wife. Even Dick and Jason seem to regard him with more authority, as those two have the most unresolved mommy issues. He takes care of (runs) the family as a mother would, and he is reward for it. Damian doesn't mouth off at him anymore, especially since Tim wouldn't give him the time of day.

If Damian will never see him as family, so be it. But once, Tim gives Bruce a baby that he desperately wants, nobody could contest his position in the family as the new matriarch of the Waynes. Little did Tim know that they reason why the youngest Wayne was so incessant of his opposition towards Tim being family all stemmed from his belief that Tim was never going to be his brother, but his intended wife.

wow thank you so much!!!!!!!🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰!!! it means a lot to hear that you enjoy my work!!!! and even more to know that you've picked up writing!!! it makes me ecstatic to hear that!!!!!!! so many of the people who have sent asks (including yours!!!!) are so brilliant, creative, and amazing and i hope that many of them begin writing or continue with it because the best part of my day is being able to open these asks and see some of the amazing asks that people have shared with me!!!! it means so much to know that you've gotten into dc, tim, and writing!!!!!!

and then that fic!!!!! onesided damitim is sooo good and always just hits slightly differently than other one-sided tim ships!!! tim's relationship to the family becoming strained because of his and damian's inability to "play nice". damian harboring secret feelings for tim as he grows older but never being able to process them well along with still holding onto the automatic hostility he feels for tim. as a kid the hostility had been genuine. his mother had told him about his place at his father's side being assured that the current 'robin' was just holding the position. damian believed that tim was going to be his intended wife and while in the league such a position would've demanded he respect drake...in gotham, unsupervised, and as a child he...he'd given into his resentment of tim. after learning that his position was not guaranteed, that his father hadn't even wanted let alone been interested in him as much as damian had been him...

taking his anger out on drake is easy because damian got to choose nothing in his life. he's coming to terms with his childhood being a lie, being denied a normal life- grayson comforts him through it and explains all the things damian hadn't even realized he'd lost. and then he sees drake and just sees another choice taken from him. that is his future wife. his future wife who dislikes him and then runs to father at every opportunity, who has father's ear, who does not want damian there. and so damian....young and full of anger...full of resentment throws himself into that hatred and rejection.

when he grows bigger...grows older its just something that is familiar. he doesn't hate drake much anymore. but having anything change and shift disturbs damian's tentative peace. and drake's continued insistence over the years about them being family. and not just drake pushes that but father as well. the only ones who don't are damian's siblings and they stop when they see how much it agitates him. they're the only ones who commiserate damian's misery at his future wife's continued insertion to his life. so...damian is resentful and unhappy with him. he talks down to him when no one looks, shoulders him when they pass each other in the hall, treats him coldly when the family demands they act civil, thrusts the burden of their relationship onto drake. drake is yet another cage for damian...until he's not.

until he reappears in the family's life after months of being in the wind despite grayson's repeated questioning to their father. turns out he wasn't in the wind. he was with father in one of the apartments scattered throughout the city and the two were doing their best to nurture drake's body to accept the baby in his womb. they'd been waiting to announce it, they'd been closely monitoring drake's health and making sure everything was alright before telling the family. drake is almost four months along but the only indication is the slightest swelling of his belly where his womb is nurturing father's child.

the rest of the family is taken aback, aghast even. but damian...damian is...aghast because...this...this isn't what is supposed to happen.

drake is...is HIS betrothed. drake is HIS intended and if father has decided to take drake for himself then...then what did that mean for damian? why had damian not known?

damian knows he'd stated multiple times how much he despised drake and didn't want him but..but that hadn't been REAL words. he'd just been inflating his words to better reflect his feelings, he often did that the rest of the family should know that!

damian knew drake would be his no matter what so he never bother to actually...process what that would look like. not until drake was already pregnant with someone else's child.

damian sees. he watches as drake turns gentle and sentimental. as he wanders the manor....glowing with pregnancy. the way he collects toys for his child, how he designs and decorates the nursery, the way he nuzzles with father and how father gently presses kisses to drake's mouth while his large hand covers the bump housing the...the child he put inside drake. drake is more certain. confident. he no longer scurries the corners of the manner like an uncertain mouse avoiding a housecat. he strides and side steps damian when they pass in the halls even though damian no longer tries to elbow or shoulder him when he passes.

the family slowly...warms to the idea of father and drake. as does the rest of gotham and the wider caped community. reservations are smoothed away and opposition dies.

suddenly no one has a problem with it. and father and drake do not hesitate to take it in stride.

they are closer...touchier...father always has a hand on drake. stroking his thigh or wrapped around his waist or kissing his neck.

one day damian gets up in the middle of the night for a drink and passes his father's bedroom, freezing as he hears the muffled gasps from timothy and the creaking of a bed. some deep animal part of damian starts to wail and howl at the realization of what he's hearing. something claws at the inside of his ribcage as he forces himself to keep moving. he returns to his bedroom and spends the night wishing for morning to come.

damian had never wanted tim. not until he realized he was gone. not until he realized that tim....had NEVER been his.

father lets it slip just how long his relationship with tim had been and damian has to excuse himself to go throw up.

on the day that damian's....younger brother is born damian is the only one not at the hospital. he'd had a math test that day and both father and grayson refused to let him miss it.

damian returns to a quiet house. even pennyworth is gone. its not until late when the hospital's visiting hours have ended that the family returns. all except father who managed to make the hospital bend the rules in exchange for a generous donation.

damian is nursing a flat soda and a half eaten pizza by the kitchen counter when grayson, so jovial and wet cheeked from tears, bounces in and beelines to damian to show him the pictures of a newborn cradled in an exhausted tim's arms.

tim is red cheeked, brow creased with exhaustion, and hair thick with sweat. but his eyes are bright as he gazes tenderly down at the sweet babe in his arms. a boy. a sweet little boy.

his name? damon.

grayson looks so tender as he says it, his smile blinding as he looks to damian, clearly eager to see his approval.

tim had insisted on the name, grayson explained. it was a peace offering to damian, some way to finally bury the hatchet that had always been between them by naming his and bruce's child after him.

it seems that damian is the only one that sees that name for what it really is. the rest of the family believes that its a kindness, a sweet gesture.

only damian knows of the pang in his heart at the pointed dig. if tim was not welcome in damian's family he would make his own with an entirely new damian as well.

timothy and the baby arrive home from the hospital a few short days later. and damian expects more of that cold war tension that had been going on but instead timothy ignores him entirely.

he's utterly besotted by his child and is unable to lend damian even a lick of attention. father is similarly infatuated with the child, holding and caressing them at the slightest noise they make.

the family makes jokes about father and his tender handed nervousness but they all know how desperately father had ached for the child. apparently, he'd been asking timothy for years to carry his child, nearly as long as they'd been together and damian...damian needs to sit down every time he thinks on it too long.

damian would normally be so vocal. so involved in his family's going ons.

but...ever since timothy announced his pregnancy damian had found himself falling more and more silent.

in the beginning he'd done his best to point a finger outward. to find someone or something else to blame for his misery...but in the end it all pointed back to one thing. one person.

himself.

he did this to himself.

the wife he'd resented and refused to cherish would now never be his.

and damian would now always be on the periphery. on the outside looking in. watching a family that would never be his.

#answered asks #asks #brutim #onesided damitim

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