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campbell-rose · 9 months

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Helluva Rewrite: Blitzø

ft Loona doodles :) Alright first off sorry this took so long i got a job lol

A large part of his character is the fact that he used to be a clown, so I took a bit of two face in this design and accentuated the scarring on the left side of his face. I decided to give him the circular cheek bits to allude to the clown as well as ruffling his collar under the clothes. He’s the most complex design of the IMP so far, aside from Loona’s multiple spots, so i tried to keep the colors simple but distinct from M&M. I took the spikes and put them on his clothes – as in he puts on thorns to keep people away. I think a pink tone suits his more lusty character.

Now as for his character... I'll be honest I struggled with him for a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure where I wanted his character to go or how serious this rewrite would take the drama Viv wants to write. I adore writing deep characters, so I suppose I’m going to have to take The Office’s approach of being a comedy with moving parts. There are overarching plot lines in this version, that being Moxxie’s mafia ties coming back to haunt him, Blitzo’s past coming back to fuck him over in the form of everything about him, and Millie’s insecurities fucking her over when it counts. Maybe the series underlying theme is how running from your problems doesn’t work. Idk, because I also like the whole monster of the week type assassin gigs they do. I’ll make it work.

So now, introducing the new and improved Blitzø!

Blitzø is a mixed imp, his father being from Greed and his mother being from Lust. As such he’s a very poor mix of bad traits. He’s hypersexual (to the point of disturbing others), greedy as fuck (as he underpays Millie and Moxxie), is greatly attached to and possessive of those he likes (hence his smothering of Loona and stalking of M&M), and tends to think with his dick in most situations which get him into quite a few pickles (hehe pickle)

Alright, so personality wise he is just about the same. He shits on others, is generally an ass and not very shy about it, but one thing I want to change is his delivery. This Blitzø is much more jovial about what he’s doing, putting on an act of being very charming and playful, even when he insults people. Ex, the line in the pilot when he mentions Moxxie crushing his dreams would include a very childish pout and a chuckle after. He plays the things he says off as jokes so it gives him an air of... idk like you don’t know when he’s ever being serious.

He grew up in a circus in Greed along with his twin sister Barbie Wire (side note if Blitzo was my og creation he would have a pun/type name like Barbie does. Too tired to come up with one now, but mainly just because Barbie Wire is a much more creative name than fucking Blitzo) and his mother, who was dying day by day. His father was the ring leader and used his children as props to make money. Blitzo was a double act with Barbie Wire where they would do tricks on trained horses before Barbie started wanting to do trapeze and Blitzo was paired with Fizz instead to do acrobatics and tell jokes.

Now since we don’t know what the fuck happened in Blitzo’s past (despite being on fucking season 2) I’m going to leave this bit open ended until Viv plays her cards then rewrite it into my story.

So overall I’m not tweaking too much with Blitzo. Maybe instead of being a woobie who is like oh woe is me I suck he is just an overt asshole who sort of wants to be better but that’s too much work.

His relationship with Stolas is a can of worms and I fucking hate worms. Alright, so we’re scrapping the childhood buddies thing, and going full force into what we all were shown in the pilot – this powerful demon is banging Blitzo in exchange for the Grimoire. Now real quick, why doesn’t Blitzo use Asmodean crystals? In this I'm making it so only lust demons can bond with crystals (bonding meaning only that demon can use them) and unbound crystals can’t leave Lust. So Blitzo would have to go to Lust and buy one, which is expensive as fuck and he was too broke at the time he struck the deal with Stolas. He’s planning on ditching Stolas as soon as he has enough cash to buy a crystal for IMP to use.

So Stolas and Blitzo are both using each other, neither of them are like “omg I think he likes me”. Stolas wants sex to fuel his imp fetish and Blitzo wants the book. Blitzo has every intention of cutting this off as soon as he gets the crystal, and in his mind is only really indulging some rich brat demon. The issue comes when Blitzo finds himself actually liking Stolas – he likes the owl’s stupid spiels about literature and space and herbs, he likes that Stolas tells him helpful things with no prompting (like how certain herbs can treat injuries and things like that), and he finds himself liking Stolas’s company. Which is a big problem if he wants to cut the demon off, so he starts trying to get that in gear. This is also while being constantly reminded how unlovable he is and how he ruins everything he touches, but he’s conflicted because Stolas has started to treat him kindly and refer to him like an acquaintance rather than a sex toy.

Any I'm tired af, going to bed.

Oh, but before I go I just want to say that now that I’ve finished the IMP gang, I’m taking a minor break from reworking Helluva and will be posting some RWBY redesigns I’ve made because I fucking hate RWBY but at the same time it’s like my childhood. I’ll tag anything Rwby I'm doing as Rwby Rework if you’re interested, but don’t worry I’ll continue to do more viv/helluva/hazbin later this month!

Thanks for reading <3

#anti helluva boss #anti vivziepop #helluva boss critical #helluva boss redesign #helluva boss rewrite #helluva rewrite #vivziepop critical

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rorywritesjunk · 26 days

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There's no race, no ending in sight

pg-13 rating. title comes from "two of us on the run" by lucius

((⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) hehehehh)

pt 1 + pt 2 + p3 + p4 + pt 5 + p6 + pt 7 +Pt 8 + Pt 9 + Pt 10 + Pt 11 + Pt 12 + Pt 13 + Pt 14 + Pt 15 + pt 16 + Pt 17 (End)

Pt 2

Buggy was still alive. For now.

Sunny was in the tent's kitchen, making sandwiches for the two of them. No discussions to be had over an empty stomach. Was she going to poison him? He didn't expect the wife of Sir Crocodile to... Be kind of nice and offer to make him lunch. He didn't expect she could cook. Didn't she have helpers to do that sort of thing?

He stood by, watching her every movement, ready to fight but he wasn't sure he could win against her. He had apologized profusely when he realized who she was. On his knees, hands clasped, begging for forgiveness and his life. Sunny asked if he was hungry. She liked cooking. It was something her husband liked her to do for him.

As terrified as he was of her, Buggy still had to admit that she was quite pretty. Blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles. Going off of looks alone he wouldn't place her as the type for Crocodile. No glamor, she didn't come off as uptight. If anything - and Buggy felt disgusted for thinking this - she would almost be with someone like Shanks, perhaps. Not some dangerous man like Crocodile.

"So, you owe me husband money." Sunny said as she put the sandwiches on plates before holding one out to him. "A lot, by the sounds of it."

"I-I'll get it paid back!" He assured her as he took the plate from her.

Sunny shrugged. "How soon? I want him to buy me these nice cake pans. He's stingy with money, even for me." She cocked her head to the side. "Which makes it all the more interesting that he loaned someone like you money."

Buggy held the plate in his hand, trembling. The top slice of bread slid off the sandwich, resting on the plate, from his shaking. "S-Soon, ma'am, I promise."

Sunny picked her sandwich up and took a bite. "Yea?"

"Promise!"

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, taking a few more bites before setting the plate down and wiping her hands on her overalls. "Do you know any funny jokes or tricks since you're a clown?"

"Jokes?" He squeaked. "I-I know some! Yes! And card tricks!"

"Can you do a card trick?" She grinned. "If it's good I'll convince my husband to go easy on you."

Was this some kind of trick? Have Buggy let his guard down for her to do something? It could be worth it, though, to impress her enough that Crocodile wouldn't bash his skull in.

"Well, you're, uh, in luck!" Buggy said as he reached into his pocket. "I just so happen to have a deck of cards on me!" He pulled it out and took them out of their case, letting his hands shuffle around as he tried to turn on his showman's charm for her. He leaned against the counter as his hands floated nearby, shuffling the cards. "So, how are you liking it on the island so far? A nice romantic getaway for you and the husband? I know some great spots for smoochin' under the stars."

Sunny looked amused by his words. "My husband isn't really the type to 'smooch under the stars'." She took a bite of her sandwich, glancing around the kitchen before looking back at him. "I went to the circus once as a kid. It was amazing."

"Yea?" Buggy stopped shuffling and fanned the cards out in front of her. "Pick a card, memorize it, then put it back in the pile." He watched her carefully, making sure she did as she was instructed but also to keep his guard up. "I went ages ago as a kid. Guess it made an impact on me."

"Looks like it did." She chuckled as she put her card back in. "I was seven and my parents and I lived on Cantaloupe Island. Some troupe set up there and I begged to go so they took me."

Buggy started shuffling the cards around once again. "You don't say. That's where I saw a show. The crew I was on stopped there for a month to resupply."

"Really! Small world." She laughed softly. "Well, Buggy, where's my card?"

He paused for a moment before cutting the deck. "This is it, right? Ace of Spades?"

She shook her head. "Wrong."

"Huh." He shuffled them a few more times before pulling out another one. "King of Clubs?"

"You're not really good at this." She commented as he continued shuffling through the deck. She allowed herself to watch him, just for a moment, noticing that even covered in grease paint, sweat, and dirt, he was kind of handsome. His blue hair was eye-catching and his nose definitely stood out. The stubble along his jaw made her want to run her fingers across it. Apart from the scar across his face, Crocodile kept his face clean of such things.

"Well, you try next time then!" Buggy huffed as he held up another card. "Well?"

"That's the Joker card, clown."

"Dammit-"

Sunny rolled her eyes and put her hands in her pockets as she waited, only to pause when she felt something in there. She withdrew her hand, holding a card between her fingers as Buggy looked at her with a big grin on his face.

"Is that your card?"

"Queen of Hearts." She nodded, looking it over curiously. "You slipped it into my pocket. How?"

"A magician can't reveal his secret." Buggy chuckled as he took the card from her and shuffled the deck.

"My husband won't be pleased that some clown snuck his hand in my pocket..." Sunny mused as Buggy's jaw dropped. "But I won't tell him. You're no use to him dead after all."

The charm turned off. Buggy looked nervous again. "So, are you going to talk to your husband?"

"Mmm... About what?" She asked. Buggy stared at her. She couldn't be serious. "Oh, right. You still have to pay him back somehow. I'll just tell him to be a bit more patient."

"Patient?! What makes you think I even have that kind of money?!"

"You're a clown. Open up your circus and charge people." Sunny shrugged. "I don't really care but I'm tired of him."

That was a weird way to end the sentence and she seemed to realize that because she cleared her throat and continued, "I'm tired of him being such a grouch over this."

"It's not my fault I haven't paid him back yet!" Buggy shot back. Sunny crossed her arms and looked at him. "I have men to feed! It's a lot!"

"Pay my husband back or else, clown." She warned as she grabbed her sandwich. "I'll come back in a few days to work it out with you if Crocodile hasn't killed you yet."

Buggy grabbed her arm before he could leave but immediately regretted it by the look she gave him. He let go, knowing he was a dead man now. "Look, Miss, we can come to an agreement, right?"

Sunny turned to face him. "For payment? Maybe."

"I'll do your suggestion. Get a show going under the tent." Buggy hoped this could work. "If it wows and amazes you, wipe the debt in half."

"One quarter."

"One third." Buggy suggested. "One third of the debt gone if you like the show, how about it? You can even bring that husband of yours! I can work reptiles into the show!"

Sunny stared at him, letting the suggestion sink in before taking a step towards him. He backed up to the counter as Sunny reached up to grab him by the face, pinching his cheeks, causing his lips to pucker like a fish. She tried to ignore the feeling of his stubble underneath his fingers.

"I'm not easily impressed, clown." She said through gritted teeth. "If you are serious, then wow me. My eyes better sparkle in amazement by whatever show you want to put on." She released him. There was grease paint on her fingers so she wiped it on his shirt, making a note not to think about how firm his chest felt under it. "I'll be back tomorrow then. You better have something to show me."

"D-Deal!" Buggy didn't know why she had to touch him but he wished she'd do it again. "Tomorrow! Come by in the afternoon and I'll have something! M-Maybe I can get Richie to jump through a ring of fire!"

"Whatever." Sunny took a step back from him. "I'll be back tomorrow then."

Buggy nodded, watching as she turned and left. He managed to survive somehow but he hated how his heart slipped a beat when she touched him. If Crocodile found out that Buggy thought his wife was easy on the eyes then he would for sure be a dead clown.

#mini fic #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #sunny x crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #crocodile x oc #lmao when will it end

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kpop-stories-21 · 4 months

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Better Than Before | Part 1

Group: TXT

Pairing: Soobin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Trope & AUs: Non-Idol AU, Non-Idol AU, Dark Fae AU, Fantasy AU, Angst

Content & Trigger Warnings: Princess!Reader, Kitsune!Soobin, past verbal abuse, past abusive family, staged kidnapping

Summary: You and your cellmates plan an escape. Things go very awry and you end up in the last place you would want to be.

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @stardragongalaxy @anyamaris @liliesofdreamsskz @pyeonghongrie-main @naturalogre @bxffietheblxxdy @sanjoongie TXT tags: @spicyseonghwas

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cultofdionysusnet | @kdiarynet | @sandsofire

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Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The stone wall was cold through the thin material of your dress, slowly sucking the heat out of your body. You looked up bleakly, glancing around at the others you shared this cell with to see if any of them were willing to share some body heat. One of the girls you hadn't yet befriended noticed you and motioned for you to come join her. As you got closer you saw she was wrapped in a large, fur-lined cloak; which she opened as you got closer. Huddled together, the two of you began to talk quietly.

“It’s winter where I came from. I always complained to Ma about this cloak bein’ too big, but I’m glad now that she never got around to gettin’ me a smaller one.”

You smiled faintly. “So am I.”

The girl slid a hand out from under the cloak. “I’ll not tell you my real name in case some of them Fae are listenin’, but you can call me Lorra.”

You hesitated a moment, not really sure what to say since your family weren’t really the type to give nicknames of the kindly variety. As you pondered this a memory surfaced your mind unbidden, taking control of your body as it washed over you.

“Mother, Y/N is being a baby again!” Your oldest sister Beca yelled, long nails stabbing into the skin of your arm as she pulled a ten-year-old you away from the bottom of the stairs she had just pushed you down, ready to act innocent so that you would take the blame yet again.

Your mother, the regal Queen Aerona, burst into the room. Her heavy makeup almost gave her the look of a circus clown, but you forced yourself not to laugh at the thought in order to avoid making her any angrier than she already was.

“I swear to all the gods, Y/N, if you don’t grow up and stop acting so childish, your father and I will have to take more drastic measures.”

She pulled you away from Beca’s grasp and took hold of your shoulders, shaking you viciously. “You need to learn to take what life gives you without whining or we’ll still be calling you little Mabis when you’re all grown up!”

You were brought back to the present moment by Lorra shaking you gently.

“Are you alright? I apologise if I was prying, you don’t have to tell me if it brings up unpleasant memories.”

You shook your head ruefully. “No, no, it’s fine. You can call me Mabis.”

“Oh, what a lovely name!” Lorra exclaimed.

You bit back a bitter retort, keeping your opinions to yourself for now. “Mabis” was one of several ways to say “baby” in Welsh, and you heard it far too often while growing up. It was the least negative of the many things they called you, and the first thing you could think of when put on the spot.

The two of you lapsed into silence for a while, and you ended up falling asleep on Lorra’s shoulder. Pale rays of light from the midday sun filtered through the small cell window to shine directly into your eyes, rousing you from the neck-breaking position you’d fallen into.

Lorra was still beside you, wide eyes glued to the door of the cell. You followed her gaze and found a tall male Fae standing at the door, a large tray with several small bowls on it resting in his hands. You assumed it to be food, but if all the stories you’d heard were anything to go by, the Fae were not to be trusted in any way.

“Are they feeding us, or knocking us out in order to take us somewhere else?” Lorra whispered, fear creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know.” You replied, eyeing the creature warily. “But it’s best to keep your guard up anyway. All this bustle has to be on our account, and it’s got to be building up to something.”

Lorra nodded in agreement and the two of you watched as a burly man near the door took the tray and the Fae retreated, locking the cell door behind him. Everyone crowded around the burly man to see what had been brought. To your surprise the bowls contained what looked to be a hearty stew, complete with large chunks of meat and what you assumed to be the Fae’s equivalent of vegetables.

The burly man, who you learned was going by the name Shownu, offered to try the stew first in case something had been put in it. You didn’t know about the others, but you were definitely grateful for the offer. You watched with bated breath as he cautiously consumed the contents of a bowl, and when several minutes went by without anything happening, he began passing out the rest of the bowls.

You ate the stew with relish, enjoying the rich flavours. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such good food, back at home you’d always been given leftover bits that were several days old. It was pleasantly warm, and fought back some of the chill that had set in.

When you finished eating, you noticed that the others had all grouped together and were whispering amongst themselves. Curious, you sat down beside Lorra and quietly asked what was going on.

“They’re discussing possible ways of escape.” She told you. “One of the women, Jisoo, says she thinks she’s figured out what type of Fae our guards are and has some ideas of how to overpower them. She also says if we escape as a group we have a better chance of actually making it back to the human realm.”

You nodded in agreement, a seed of hope forming within you at her words. If you could get back to the human realm, maybe change your name and appearance, you could start over and live the life you wanted to live, not the one your parents wanted you to live. This was the chance you’d been looking for since you came of age, and by the gods you were going to take it.

“What’s their plan?” You asked Lorra.

“I didn’t catch all the details, but they’re hoping to try it tonight. They want most of us to feign sleep just as a precaution if something goes wrong and we get caught. That way we wouldn’t be lying if we said we didn’t know what happened.”

You nodded understandingly. “That makes sense.”

You suddenly noticed everyone looking at you and shrank back a little, but Lorra smiled reassuringly. “I was catching her up on the plan. She’s agreeable to what’s been discussed.”

Shownu and some of the others acknowledged Lorra with nods, then Jisoo glanced at the window. “It’s getting dark.” She murmured. “We need to stick to our usual routines to avoid suspicion, so let go about as if we’re getting ready to sleep.”

Whispers rippled through the room and then everyone stood, laying out on the floor whatever cloaks, capes and blankets they’d had upon entering the Fae realm. Once everyone had settled down a weighted silence filled the air, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath to see if the plan succeeded.

The time felt like it was passing up far slower than usual, but you knew that was just your anxiety peeking through. As you lay there, wrapped in blankets and pretending sleep, you felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Letting your mind wander, you recalled the first time you found yourself in a similar kind of position.

Your mother had been acting quite strange the past week, being something very close to nice even when there weren’t any guests or visitors around. You knew almost immediately that something was going to happen and accepted every gesture with hesitant gratitude, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Halfway through that fateful week, the strange men arrived. They were dressed all in black, with masks covering the lower part of their faces and many strange-looking weapons strapped to various places all over their bodies. You asked your mother who they were and why they were there, but she would always put you off with vague answers and quickly change the subject.

You didn’t learn of their purpose in the palace until the last day of the week when you were summoned to the parlour in your best dress. As soon as you stepped in you noted that the atmosphere of the room was thick and prickly, as if charged with electricity. There was also a sour undertone that stuck in the back of your throat and set your teeth on edge. Every nerve and instinct in your body was screaming that these men were extremely dangerous and that you should not be in this room with them, but you knew by the look in your mother’s eye that leaving was not an option. Moving with smooth, practised steps, a too-familiar numbness washed over you as you made your way to the settee next to your mother and sat down. You folded your hands in your lap to hide their shaking and waited for an explanation.

“Y/N, sweetie, these men are bounty hunters. However, they do occasionally perform other tasks and I have hired them to take you somewhere quite special.”

You looked at her in confusion, daring a quiet query since she was always nice to you in front of others. “May I ask where exactly they’re taking me?”

Her smile stretched ever-so-slightly, a subtle indicator of her rapidly fading patience. “I’d like to keep that a surprise, dear. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

That meant you would most likely hate it, seeing as your likes were so far removed from what she wished for them to be. But since you had no say in the matter, you just had to trust that wherever she was sending you would be somewhere you could eventually escape from.

“When will we be leaving?” You asked, resigning yourself to your fate for the time being.

“Sometime tonight.” She replied, her grin turning wicked. “They’ll come get you from your room when they’re ready to leave.”

“Should I dress for travelling?” You asked, feeling even more unsettled than before.

Your mother shook her head. “What you have on will be just fine. Now, please go to your room to wait for them.”

“Yes mother.” You stood, curtseying to the men before turning and leaving the parlour.

Once back in your room you sat on your bed and began bouncing your leg anxiously, trying to figure out where in the world your mother was shipping you off to. As you sat there, you heard a couple of the men walk past the door to your room. Curious and hoping to pick up a clue or two you tiptoed to the door, pulled it open the tiniest bit, and pressed your ear to the crack.

“You think she’s figured out where the Queen’s sending her?” The first man asked.

The second man shook his head. “Not at all. She may look pretty, but these princess types are usually quite dumb. She won’t have a clue until we step into the circle and bring her to the Fae realm.”

Eyes wide, you silently shut the door and stood frozen for a moment, mind reeling from what you’d just heard. She’d finally done what she’d threatened from the moment you turned 18: sold you to one of the Fae courts. You could only hope she hadn’t sold you to Oidhche, you’d heard some awful things about the Fae there.

Every minute that passed felt like an hour as you waited, nerves growing more frayed the longer you sat there. Finally, just when you thought you might explode, there was a knock at the door. You opened it and found two of the men standing there. One of them held a sack in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.

Before you could utter a word, they pushed their way into your room. The sack was thrown over your head and you immediately froze, heart palpitating with fear as your hands and feet were tied tightly. One of the men threw you over his shoulder like a sack of vegetables and they began to walk out.

Once outside the palace, you were unceremoniously tossed in the back of a large wooden cart. You could already feel a few bruises forming as you lay still, not daring to move as several rough woollen blankets were thrown on top of you. You heard the sound of a tarp being pulled over top of the cart and tied down, then the cart began to move.

You were pulled from the memory by Lorra whispering in your ear.

“The guards are coming, be ready to run.”

You whispered an acknowledgement and gripped the blanket beneath you, ready to push to your feet at a moment’s notice.

A soft, metallic clang! reached your ears, followed by the sounds of a short struggle. Then, silence. You held your breath, praying no other Fae heard anything. When several minutes passed without incident, Shownu whispered for everyone to get up and follow Jisoo out.

The group shuffled along quietly for a while, everyone working hard not to make any noise. It wasn’t until Jisoo found a door to the outside that you were all instructed to begin running. It was rough going for a while, but then the sun finally came up and things got somewhat easier.

Suddenly, a shrill scream echoed from behind you. You stopped running immediately and turned to see what had happened. What greeted your eyes sent icy terror spiking through your veins. It seemed the Fae had finally noticed the group’s absence, and a horde of them were pouring over the horizon. Some rode mounts while others raced on foot at inhuman speeds, and still others soared through the air on multicoloured wings. Several of them had already caught up to those at the back of the group and were expertly separating everyone to make for easier catching.

Frantic, your eyes combed the area to see where that scream had originated from. To your dismay you found Lorra cornered by a large male Fae who hauled her up by one arm, throwing her over the saddle of his mount and turning back with a smug grin. Off to your left you saw two female Fae circling Shownu while Jisoo was carried off into the sky by another female. The group was crumbling before your very eyes, and soon you would be the only one left. Already, you could see several Fae moving toward you, and it was that sight which spurred you into action once more.

Fear mixed with adrenaline to grant speed to your feet as you fled the approaching Fae. For a while you ran blindly, ignoring your surroundings as you focused only on staying ahead of your pursuers. Then the woods grew thicker and you were forced to slow your pace a bit to keep from tripping over a root or bashing your head against a low-hanging branch. You could feel the adrenaline starting to dwindle and weariness beginning to settle in your bones, so you kept an eye out for somewhere you might be able to hide for a little while and recover your strength.

Just as you were starting to despair of ever getting away, you saw a little house appear in the midst of a small grove of sturdy oak trees. Relief washed over as you picked up a little more speed, praying to all the gods that it was as abandoned as it looked. The trees pressed close against the sides of the house, making it look like the house was just part of the trees.

Glancing behind you, you saw that you were far enough ahead that you were not in the direct sight line of those pursuing you. Thinking quickly you ran ahead into a clump of bushes, then backtracked to the house by stepping in the footprints you’d already made. Once back at the house, you stepped carefully as you made your way to the door. Testing the knob, you found it unlocked, and hurried inside. Closing the door all but a crack, you watched to see if your ruse worked.

To your immense relief the Fae went right on past the house, following the trail you left. One they had passed, you closed the door fully and leaned against it, eyes closed as you began to calm down.

Suddenly a voice off to your left asked, “What are you doing in my house, little human?”

#cultofdionysusnet #thrill of the hunt #kdiarynet #mfu-net #sandsofirenet #txt x reader #soobin x reader #txt angst #txt soobin #soobin angst #maturefanfic #18-21+#au #fanfic

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dudefrommywesterns · 9 months

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Title: To Tame a Lion

Word Count: 750

Ship: Mike/Pete Nelson

Description: For the safeshiptember day 1 prompt "first date/meeting." I've done a meeting.

With the limited profit Clyde Brent Circus had been making, it had been quite some time since anyone new had been hired. This is what struck Mike immediately about the curly-headed man and his goofy friend. Word around the other employees was that whichever was named Jerry had been hired as a lion tamer. Looking the two over as they received their blue jumpsuits, Mike could only figure it was the curly-headed one. He appeared at first glance to be stronger, braver, and less goofy than his friend.

The pair left to put on the jumpsuits, and when they returned they were assigned to clean by the elephants, a job Mike had often done.

Mike approached the pair. “Hi! I’ve worked here for some time now and I can show you where the elephants are if you like.”

On closer look, it seemed that the curly-headed one had brown eyes, very beautiful brown eyes.

“You must be Jerry, right?” Mike asked. “The lion tamer?”

He laughed. His eyes crinkled when he laughed, which somehow made them prettier. “Oh, no, he’s Jerry. I’m Pete.”

Mike looked at Jerry. He had a goofy but friendly smile and did not seem to have a lion tamer’s disposition. “You’re the lion tamer?”

Jerry nodded. “For now! I’m going to be a clown.”

“We already have our clowns,” Mike said. “Puffo’s our main one.”

“He’s a better clown,” Pete said confidently “He’ll show you.”

Mike shared Pete’s smile. “I’d like to see that. Anyway, the elephants are this way, if you’ll follow me.”

All the way there, the trio picked up whatever litter they found and put into their bags. Eventually they came to the elephant tent.

“This is one of the dirtiest areas, as you can imagine,” Mike said.

Jerry crinkled up his nose. “Smells like elephant booty.”

“You know that from personal experience?” Mike asked.

That got a chuckle out of everybody.

“Pete, why don’t you take up lion taming?” Jerry asked.

“You kiddin’?” Pete asked, slightly incredulously. “Work with those cats? Not me!”

Jerry made a disgruntled noise as he continued to pick up trash.

“You got nothin’ to worry about. You got moxie. So what if they’re wild, who cares? Once you get in there, you’ll control ‘em. Even though they’re” — Pete leans in close to Jerry, cupping his mouth — “Killers and man-eaters.”

Mike chuckled.

“Hotchkiss!” their supervisor, Sam, yelled eventually.

Both Pete and Jerry turned.

Apparently Jerry was Jerry Hotchkiss since Sam approached him and demanded “Report to Colonel Schlitz.”

“Colonel Schlitz?” Jerry asked.

Colonel Schlitz was the circus’ current lion tamer, an old German man.

“Oh, no! No!” Jerry said, beginning to panic. He dropped his things and took off in a sprint.

“Hotchkiss!” Sam yelled. He bolted after him.

“Crazy mixed-up kid,” Pete commented, while picking up more trash.

“So, uh, Pete,” Mike said awkwardly. “Did you come all the way out here just to see your friend get eaten by lions? You don’t seem like the circus type.”

“Well, I’m broke, I needed a job, and Jerry had an invite to work here at the circus,” Pete said. “Between you and me, I’m looking to move up.”

Mike chuckled. “Move up? I’ve worked here for two years. Same spot.”

He smiled. “I got my ways.”

“Oh, if you think you’ll get over on Jill Brent, think again.”

His eyes sparkled. “Get over on? I’m not gettin’ over on anybody. I think she’ll find I’m a great worker.”

There was something almost suggestive in that statement but Mike couldn’t put their finger on how or why.

“So, what did you do before you got here, Pete?”

“I was in the army,” he said. “I was a corporal. Honorably discharged.”

“Army man. That’s nice.”

“What about you, huh? What’s a pretty girl doing picking up trash in a circus?”

Mike scoffed. “Well, you’re wrong on two counts.”

“You’re picking up trash and this is a circus. So, are you debatin’ the pretty or the girl?”

“Both,” Mike said.

He smiled. “Well, what did you say your name was?”

Mike internally cursed at themselves. “Oh, sorry, it’s Mike.”

“Well, Mike, you can debate me on the girl but you can’t debate me on the pretty.”

He gave them another charming grin then turned. As he walked away to pick up trash in another spot, Mike was frozen in a state of shock. They couldn't help but watch him as he went further and further into the distance.

Maybe he did have his ways…

#typewriter dings #just a short little thing #and yeah pete is just Like That in the beginning #p.n.#safeshipping #safeshiptember #self ship #self shipping community

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mcverse · 1 year

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I want to ask for a Kaptain Krazee x female reader story in which the female reader who is in her mid-20s is transported from the real world to the Haunting Hour Series world. She is turned into a clown, and Chris's parents take her in. When she meets the other clowns, Kaptain Krazee in particular develops a strong, obsessive interest in her. The female reader has no desire to be romantically linked with Kaptain Krazee in any way because she finds him to be so strange and creepy. Even though he is aware of this, Kaptain Krazee still tries to capture her heart and make her his bride. The female reader thinks of him as odd and frightening, despite his attempts to show his love for her in his own unique and strange way. Also, the female reader will have a choice whether to leave the Haunting Hour Series World and return to her own or stay in it forever after 10 days. I think it would be interesting if Kaptain Krazee were to find out some kind of way because then he would try everything within his power to make sure the reader cannot leave him.

Note: This episode is known as “Afraid of Clowns” of the Haunting Hour Series and the full episode is available to watch on youtube. Note: Kaptain Krazee is the leader of Clowns and ringmaster of his circus.

Pairing: Kaptain Krazee x Clown F! Reader

Requested: Yes/No

Type: Part 1 out of 2

Word count: 3.6K

Sidebar: Had a lot of fun with this. Freaking love isekai stories. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s too long for that.

Warning: Clowns, isekai reader, obsession, toxic behavior (Yandere-ish)

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It was a strange experience.

One moment, you're innocently clicking on a link sent by your friend, and the next moment, you find yourself transported into your phone, landing unceremoniously in front of a house.

Things only get stranger from there.

As you pick yourself up and try to make sense of what just happened, you notice that your feet have become unusually large and your hands have grown in proportion. It's unsettling to say the least.

A scream involuntarily escapes your throat as you examine your hands, treating them as if they belong to someone else. As you're caught up in your confusion, the front door opens, and two figures emerge. Well, not just any figures – they're clowns, wearing frowns instead of smiles.

Another scream escapes your lips as you fall back and start crawling away, desperately trying to convince yourself that this isn't real. But with each backward movement, the clowns advance, gradually lowering themselves to your level. It's a surreal experience, and in your panic, incoherent words spill from your mouth. The clowns simply tilt their heads and smile.

"Oh my God!" you gasp, a shiver running down your spine. It has been years since you last felt afraid of clowns, a childhood fear that you had overcome. But now, it all comes rushing back as you begin to hyperventilate. Your eyes roll back, and everything goes dark.

When you regain consciousness, you find yourself in a different setting – a warm and comfortable home, lying on a couch. A delightful aroma reaches your nose, and you slowly sit up, searching for the source. To your delight, you spot a plate of breakfast on the coffee table in front of you.

Your stomach betrays you at first sight, growling at its alluring smell and appeal. Looking around you once more, you grab the plate to sniff it before starting to eat. You weren’t too surprised to see that the it taste as good as it look but you were still cautious after waking up.

However, you bite freezes midway as you hear a creaking sound. Slowly turning your head, you come face to face with two figures standing there, wearing unsettlingly sweet smiles. An overwhelming sense of eerie déjà vu washes over you, though you can't quite pinpoint where you've encountered it before.

The man and woman exchange glances, their expressions a mix of concern and reassurance. It is the tall and slender man who takes a step forward, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. His voice is calm and gentle as he speaks, "We're here to help you."

Confusion clouds your mind as you struggle to make sense of their words. "Help me? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about," you respond, blinking in an attempt to gather your thoughts amidst the growing uncertainty.

The woman, sensing your confusion, crouches down beside the man, her eyes filled with understanding. "Do you really not remember, dear?" she asks softly, her voice carrying a hint of familiarity. And suddenly, like pieces of a puzzling puzzle falling into place, it dawns on you why their faces seem so familiar.

"Holy shit! You're those clowns," you exclaim, the plate slipping from your grasp and shattering loudly as it meets the floor. With a mix of fear and disbelief, you instinctively leap backward onto the couch, curling up in the corner as if seeking refuge from the surreal reality before you. "You're those clowns! But... but now you're human? What the hell is happening?"

Their smiles fade slightly, the woman reaches out a hand in a gesture of reassurance, "Please, try to stay calm," she says softly. "We understand that this is confusing and overwhelming, but there's more to the story than you remember."

Reluctantly, you unfold yourself from the corner of the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. The shattered plate on the floor lies forgotten as your focus shifts to the mysterious pair standing before you. They appear human now, but you can't shake the memory of their clown personas. Slowly, they approach you, their human disguises still intact.

"We're sorry for the scare," the woman says gently, sitting down beside you. "We are part of a secret clown society that operates in the shadows. We hide among humans, blending in with everyday life."

Confusion and disbelief swirl within you. Clowns with a secret society? It sounds so silly it didn’t seem possible. Yet, the sincerity in their eyes and the unusual circumstances you find yourself in make it difficult to dismiss their words.

The man continues, sitting down beside the woman, peering past her to you, "We were getting ready for bed when we heard your scream. Concerned for your well-being, we rushed outside to find you in front of our house, transformed into a clown. Before we could offer any assistance, you fainted."

You take in their explanation, slowly absorbing the strange turn of events. Despite the lingering fear, a glimmer of curiosity surfaces. You find yourself asking, "Why do you hide among humans? And how did I end up in this situation?"

The woman's smile is tinged with sadness as she answers, "Our society seeks to bring joy and laughter to the world, but not everyone likes clowns so we have to hide. As for you ending up here, well, we aren’t so sure..” she trails off, looking the broken plate on the floor.

Regret fills your eyes as you realize the unintended consequences of your actions. The plate shattering on the floor leaves you with a sense of remorse, hoping it wasn't a cherished possession to the woman.

“But I know who might!” the man exclaims, a spark of excitement lights up the man's eyes, and he enthusiastically rubs his hands together. The woman's expression mirrors his excitement, forming an 'o' shape with her mouth as she grasps his idea.

"Oh, that's right!" she exclaims, matching the man's enthusiasm. "We can bring her to him!" However, their excitement only deepens your confusion. Who is this mysterious person they are referring to?

Blinking in confusion, you interject, your gaze shifting back and forth between the two clowns. "Again, sorry, but who exactly is 'him' that you're talking about?"

Their smiles widen, and once again, you find their presence unsettling. You instinctively shift away from them, hoping to create some distance without drawing too much attention. Whether they notice your subtle movement or not remains unclear. Without further ado, they both rise from the couch, each taking on a different task. The woman stoops down to gather the broken pieces of the plate while the man makes his way towards the kitchen.

As the man disappears from your sight, the woman pauses and directs her gaze towards you. Her eyes hold a reassuring expression as she speaks, "Don't worry, you'll receive the help you need. I promise." She nods affirmatively, punctuating her words with a playful wink. With that, she straightens herself and gracefully walks away, presumably to dispose of the shattered remnants of the plate.

Left alone in the room, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. Countless questions fill your mind, but there are no answers in sight. The mere act of sitting there, pondering why you are here, who this mysterious "him" is, and how you can escape becomes a recipe for madness. The uncertainty looms over you, making it difficult to make sense of your situation.

The room feels confining, and you can't help but feel trapped. Each passing moment only amplifies your desire to unravel the enigma that surrounds you. You yearn to understand why this has happened and what steps you can take to break free from wherever you are. The weight of it all threatens to overwhelm you.

Just as despair starts to settle in, a glimmer of hope emerges. You hear footsteps approaching, breaking the silence that has enveloped the room. Relief washes over you, tinged with a hint of apprehension. They have returned, bringing with them the possibility of guidance and answers. It's a chance to find your way out of this perplexing situation.

"Come on. We're going for a ride," the man says, while the woman holds out a jacket, beckoning you to follow. They are both wearing coats, with the man positioned at the door. As you reach the woman, she kindly assists you in putting on the jacket, for which you express gratitude with a smile. Her gesture was thoughtful and unnecessary.

Once you step outside, the chill in the air becomes apparent, amplifying your gratitude for the coat. You snuggle into it, seeking both warmth and comfort for your nerves. Uncertain of their destination, you reluctantly enter the vehicle, gazing out the window as the house recedes into the distance.

Usually, someone in your situation would be scared. You don't know where you are, what happened last night, or how there's a secret clown group. You're not sure if the people in the front are telling the truth. But then you remember that you're an adult who can make decisions like an adult. Whether it was safe to fall, you were confident you can make the right choice when it comes. And if clowns really exist and you were one...

"Wasn't I a clown last night?" you inquire, shifting your gaze away from the window to fixate on the back of the man's head, hoping for an immediate response.

He affirms with a nod, "Yep…but you can't exactly walk around as a clown, can you??" His statement elicits a few soft chuckles from the woman, who rests her hand on his leg.

You hum in agreement, "I suppose not..." You divert your attention back to the window, only to witness the scenery abruptly morphing before your eyes. Shock causes your eyes to widen, prompting you to sit up in your seat. You desperately want to question if they are witnessing thing too, but as they appear unfazed, you figure that such occurrences are normal for them.

The car approaches, it passes through a grand gate, granting a view of a captivating sight: rows of colorful circus tents on both sides. Surprisingly, the entire place seems eerily deserted, leaving you to wonder where all the performers and crew might be. The car eventually comes to a stop right in front of the largest tent, positioned prominently at the center, demanding attention.

The couple exit the car first, and you follow suit, but at a more deliberate pace. Determination fuels your steps as you remind yourself that unraveling the mysteries and discovering the answers you seek is your primary objective. The once-intimidating presence of clowns no longer instills fear in you; it's a reassurance you repeatedly affirm within your mind.

Approaching the entrance of the large tent, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty fills the air. The flaps of the tent flap gently in the breeze, as if inviting you to step inside and uncover the secrets that lie within.

The couple reach the entrance, their expressions composed yet brimming with a shared understanding. They hold the flap open, gesturing for you to enter first. Stepping over the threshold, you find yourself in a different world altogether. The interior of the tent is a vibrant tapestry of colors, adorned with glittering decorations and whimsical props. The scent of sawdust and cotton candy lingers in the air, evoking memories of childhood circuses.

A scream escapes your lips when you turn around to see the couple pull off their faces, only to be amplified when a group of eerie clowns materializes behind you. The once-jolly atmosphere of the tent is now suffused with an overwhelming sense of dread. Grinning unnaturally, the clowns fix their intense gazes upon you, their presence sending shivers down your spine.

Without uttering a word, they part to create a path that leads you further into the tent. Reluctantly, you follow their lead, your heart pounding in your chest as you step along the trail. The air grows heavy with an inexplicable tension, as if the very fabric of reality is warping around you.

Finally, you arrive at a door adorned with shimmering lights and golden accents. This is the threshold, the gateway to the unknown. It beckons you to cross over, promising answers to the questions that have haunted your mind.

The clown couple, their disfigured faces twisted into macabre smiles, turn to address you. Their voices carry an eerie warmth, contrasting with their terrifying appearance. "This is where you shall find the answers you seek," the woman says, her words resonating in the air. The man nods in agreement, his eyes gleaming with a peculiar intensity.

Summoning your courage, you extend your hand and grasp the ornate doorknob. It feels cool and solid beneath your touch, sending a shiver down your spine. With a deep breath, you turn the knob, feeling a blend of excitement and apprehension coursing through your veins.

The door opens with a haunting creak, revealing a chamber bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. The gentle light spills into the room, illuminating a space adorned with cryptic symbols and ancient artifacts. Each object seems to hold a fragment of the enigma you've been yearning to unravel. It's a place where hidden truths lie, waiting to be discovered.

Compelled by an insatiable curiosity, you step into the chamber, and the door closes behind you with a resounding thud. The outside world is sealed away, leaving you alone in this mysterious sanctuary. The air crackles with a sense of anticipation, and you find yourself surrounded by a tapestry of secrets. In the center of the room stands a large, ornate mirror, its reflective surface beckoning you closer.

Approaching the mirror cautiously, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection, but it flickers for a moment, as if a veil of uncertainty hangs over it. Suddenly, a figure materializes behind you in the mirror—a large male clown, his face adorned with white paint, accentuated by a purple diamond pattern over each eye, red diamonds on each cheek and a blood colored nose. His long, fiery red hair matches the shape of his thinly painted unibrow and enlarged painted red smile, adding to his unsettling appearance.

The sight startles you, and the line between reality and illusion blurs. Doubts creep into your mind, making you question your sanity since entering this surreal realm. As the clown begins to walk closer towards you, a mix of relief and terror washes over you. You back away, unintentionally bumping into the mirror, your heart pounding.

Desperately, you try to assert yourself, mustering a threatening voice, "Don't come any closer!" But the clown seems unperturbed, his lips curling into a macabre smile. He continues to advance, disregarding your warning as if it were mere amusement to him.

Peering down at you, his gaze filled with unsettling curiosity, he mutters to himself, "What do we have here?" His tone carries a sense of eerie intrigue, leaving you wondering what his intentions might be in this mysterious place.

Your heart races as he reaches out his hand, the movement appearing in slow motion. The anticipation builds, contrasting with the frantic beats of your heart. His hand finally touches your cheek, sending a chilling sensation down your spine. The touch slides to the back of your head, his fingers entwining in your hair with a firm grip.

Shock and disbelief wash over you, rendering you motionless for a brief moment. The sheer horror of the situation freezes you in place as you try to comprehend the impossible, despite seeing it earlier once. Your mind races, searching for rational explanations, but none seem to suffice.

With trembling hands, you reach up to touch your face, expecting the worst. As your fingertips make contact, relief washes over you—your skin remains intact. However, your reflection in the mirror reveals a haunting transformation. Half of your face is covered in a ghastly layer of white paint, smeared with ominous splotches of red and black shapes that seem to mock you. The other half retains its natural complexion, creating an eerie juxtaposition that serves as a constant reminder of the encounter with the clown couple.

"What's going on?" Your words hang in the air, unanswered, as you lock eyes with the clown standing behind you. He remains silent, his mouth agape, seemingly as bewildered as you are. Yet, his intense and unwavering gaze sends chills down your spine, making you squirm with discomfort.

"You're no ordinary clown," he murmurs, his eyes flickering over you, confusion marring his face as he tries to make sense of your presence. After a brief moment of observation, he asks, "How did you find yourself here?"

You eagerly respond, "That's why I'm here! I was told you could provide answers." Your voice carries a hint of disappointment, and your head lowers in a slight pout, feeling upset and vulnerable.

The clown clicks his tongue and lifts your head gently by your chin, making you meet his gaze. He shakes his head, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against your cheek. "You're one of us now. We don't look down, only up," he grins wildly as you peer up at him, a mix of awe and fear in your eyes. Being this close to him amplifies his scary appearance by tenfold. "You've come to the right place. They call me the ringmaster, Kaptain Krazee. And what's your name, doll?"

You recoil slightly, offering him a hesitant smile. "(Name)," you reply softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Will you help me?"

His smile falters, his gaze shifting away from you to a book resting on his desk. His head tilts, as if engaged in an internal struggle. Eventually, he nods reluctantly, taking a step back and moving towards the desk to retrieve the book.

"This book ain't your ordinary read," he murmurs, his eyes lighting up with fascination. He turns towards you, his excitement bubbling over. "It's got somethin' magical about it, see? Changes its contents for whoever lays their hands on it. It's like a secret language only it knows." He trails off, then takes a step closer to you, extending the book in your direction. "I reckon it's got a page or two just for you. Care to take a peek?"

You hold the ancient book in your sweaty palms, unsure of what mysteries lie within its weathered pages. With hesitant anticipation, you carefully open it, and to your astonishment, letters manifest out of thin air, forming a message that appears as if by magic.

The words on the page reveal an extraordinary truth – you are one of the few individuals who have been mysteriously transported into this fantastical world. The book explains that you have been granted a precious gift of ten days to explore this realm, to unravel its secrets, and to determine your fate within it. After the allotted time, you will face a pivotal decision: whether to remain in this enchanting world or return to the reality you left behind.

As you read the words, Kaptain Krazee's impatience gets the better of him. He leans in, his curiosity piqued, and his frown deepens upon comprehending the significance of the book's message. Ten days seemed far too short for him. He had become fascinated by your presence and longed for more time to explore the depths of your connection.

Contemplating the book's message, the clown's thoughts race. He realizes that within these ten days, he has a chance to show you the joy and wonder of being a clown, to share his world and get to know you better. Perhaps, just perhaps, there is a glimmer of hope that you might choose to stay, not only within this realm but by his side.

When you lower the book, you notice his intense gaze fixed on you again. His eyes reveal emotions you can't quite grasp, leaving you puzzled. What is he trying to convey? You're not a mind reader, and even if you were, you're not sure you'd want to know his thoughts. There's an air of mystery and hidden intentions surrounding him.

"Okay," you nod, handing the book back to him. You turn away, deep in thought about what lies ahead. Ten days may not seem like much, but you have to muster the patience to endure this surreal experience. It's the only way you can make it through.

You flinch instinctively as his hands rest gently on your shoulders, uncertain about the intentions behind his seemingly affectionate gesture. You steal a sideways glance, meeting Kaptain Krazee's mischievous grin. His words, filled with an unnerving enthusiasm, make you question his perception of you.

"I'm here to lend a helping hand, my dear. We have plenty of exciting things to occupy your time," he exclaims with an exaggerated cheerfulness. "And trust me, with your natural charm and unique appearance, you'll be the star of the show."

His comment leaves you perplexed, causing your eyebrow to raise in skepticism. Charm? Looks? You've never regarded yourself as particularly charming or attractive, especially not in your current clown-like guise. The notion seems absurd, and you can't help but wonder what relevance appearance holds in the context of the circus. Everything within these twisted walls seems to serve a purpose, often a sinister one.

Your gaze narrows as you scrutinize Kaptain Krazee, searching for any hidden meaning behind his words. Is there something he's not telling you? The circus is known for its tricks and illusions, after all. You've learned a long time ago to be cautious, wary of what lies beneath the surface and knew you can take care of yourself.

He steps back, motioning towards the door with a slight bow. "Shall we?" he asks.

#Kaptain Krazee #Clown #x reader #reader insert #haunting hour #teratophila #x clown reader #monster #monsters #˚₊‧꒰ა omnific ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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incorrect-mha-bnha · 3 years

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BNHA Headcanons once more

Villain Izy is amazing, delicious food to me. Love the complexity and the way I can make him utterly twisted in a severe way. However, I know it’s plausible for Bak to be the root of his hate... but I may have something else be the main source and leave him as collateral damage. Shouldn’t he hate the society he lives in? Wouldn’t he go bigger, broader? Forget Bak and his childish behavior. Where did he learn all of that from? What was the root of the discrimination? The societal set standard for acceptability? Yeah, sure, Bak was an asshole and out of line— but oh please, if you think Izy wouldn’t logically think bigger in his revenge. The discrimination comes from the messed up society and you better believe he is coming for it. It’s crooked out look on people’s worth based upon whether they posses a quirk or not. It’s idiotic, horrific. Personally, if I happened to be in their universe? I’d be a villain. No hero, no hero loving civilian or a vigilante. Hell no, I’d be a villain and fighting the system.

I personally like black Mina, blasain Deku, Latino Sero, Samoan Kirishima and people also have mentioned Latino/light skinned Bakugo which I don’t mind or see the fault in either

For Shigarakis birthday, everyone got together and made him hand shaped soaps. He opened the box, peered inside to see a bunch of different colored hand shaped soaps and glared at them all. Of course Shig uses them, but the thought was annoying yet thoughtful.

Personally I have many ships and groups I am behind. With that said, they have been given names (only a few so far since I’m focusing on the ones I have been/will be posting about the most). They range from friendship to actual ship which will be noted as ‘f’ and ‘s’..... Wonder Trio©️ (Bak, Kiri and Mina ~ f). Core Three©️ (Izy, Bak and Todd ~ either or). Fatal Four©️ ( todokiribakudeku ~ s). Forsaken©️ (Vil!Izuku, Dabi, Shigs ~ f).

Let’s get some normal teenage HCs going..... Kirishima, Bakugo, Izy and Ochaco have stretch marks... Kirishima has them from his quirk— it’s sudden development of unbreakable, Izuku from his intense fast growth for the quirk, and Bakugo as well..... For her quirk, Momo would need to store more energy which means she would be chubbier and that’s closer to canon in the manga (Ochaco is also not super thin like they showed in the manga).

Todoroki doesn’t wake up until the afternoon on some days, same can be said for half the others.

Kaminari moans in the back of class

Sero doesn’t talk much, he is more laid back. So I believe he’d walk behind the Bakusquad or in the grass.

When the Bakusquad goes out, Bakugo hangs towards the front. He says it’s because he doesn’t want to be near them, but in reality he wants to keep a lookout for any danger and protect them all first. It also is because of the LOV incident.

Kirishima notices that, how he is constantly looking around and staring after certain lingering figures until they check out as unthreatening. Kirishima would be the one to look out for Bakugo, as a second pair of eyes with everyone else in on it.

Also along these lines^ Bakugo likes the people he is with to be in his range of site. Same reasonings as above. Whenever they are in stores, he keeps them in his peripheral and scans for exits and entrances. Whenever someone leaves his site for a moment, he snaps at them and brings whoever wandered away back to the group. Everyone soon adapted to his constant need to check everyones position and started telling him wherever they intended to go. Mina: Hey, Im going to the shoes section. | Sero: I’m going with Kaminari to the games

Bakugo doesn’t like people behind him.. once again, same as above^ so I believe Kirishima would ease Bakugo’s nerves by touching his back as he leaves his peripheral and passes through his blind spots to ensure Bakugo is always aware of his position.

Denki is Mitsuki’s favorite. It just makes sense. He is the type to walk in and go “You have such a lovely home”, “You’re 35? Shut up, you don’t look a day over 22” “Bakugo listen to your mother”, “Let me help with the groceries”. Tell me I’m wrong. You can’t. Ugh. Also I semi ship adult Denki with Mitsuki, as well as hc him to have been crushing HARD in his teen years.

Bakugo was a leash kid

Midoriya was a stroller kid

Bakugo once owned a pet fish as a kid..... never again. Never. Again.

Denki got extra time during tests because he couldn’t focus

Bakugo, Izy, Aizawa and all the class girls would liberate Eri and teach her to never take shit from men or the hero society. That she is more than a gossip topic or someone to objectify. They would create a powerful hero that knows her worth and wouldn’t take shit from anyone.

Eri makes friendships bracelets with beads for Bakugo and Izy. The three of them match. Izy wears it whenever he can along with Eri and Bakugo has it hung up on his cork board.

Eri likes to do makeovers with whoever is unlucky enough to cave. The results of your makeover usually is determined on whether she truly thinks you deserve a makeover or if she just wants to mess your face up. For instance, Izy got a really nice face of makeup with complimenting colors. Meanwhile, Bakugo looked like a circus clown with lipstick in his eye and eyeshadow smeared across his forehead.

Todoroki has no filter. Everyone says it’s because he doesn’t understand social queues (cues?) — they are right... but that’s not the point. The point is Todoroki will say the most out of pocket things without taking a second to question whether it’s a good idea. Everyone had parent day at school and all the parents showed up to get a tour and shadow training. On first sight of seeing Bakugo’s mom, Todoroki just deadpans “milf.” And continues to blank stare like nothing.

Uraraka absolutely decks Bakugo in the face the first time they actually spar together. He isnt one to make it an uneven fight but she proposed the deal of “if I can land one good punch then you’re sparring partner for the week”. Bakugo doubted it would be that good, he’s been hit by Kirishima and Izuku for fucks sake but.. hey a challenge is a challenge. So he hangs his arms by his side and smirks cockily while saying “sure, give me a little love tap or whatever—.” And gets hit so hard he spins and face plants on the floor then doesn’t get up for a few minutes. Everyone collectively gasped then broke into laughter. And yes Izuku recorded it then posted the video everywhere

#dio bnha headcanons

#dio bnha headcanons #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #incorrect mha quotes #bnha incorrect quotes #incorrect bnha quotes #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bnhaedit #eijirou kirishima #sero hanta #mina ashido #denki kaminari #izuku mydoria #shoto todoroki #uraraka ochacho

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years

Text

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 4

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2668

Gavin was far away from being 'happy'. But he listened interested in what yn had to say in the briefing. He was impressed how much she had found out within … one day. She had a bunch of files, several papers and she also had prepared a report for each one of them with the important details. If Gavin had a good day, he could do just the half of it. If any.

"So, our guy is Joseph 'The Joker'.", she stopped as she saw Gavin trying to suppress the laughter behind his hand, "Come on, Gavin. Laugh. Or otherwise you will explode.", she said amused.

"That is the stupidest name on earth.", Gavin said chuckling.

Yn watched her partner who was looking so much better when he was grinning, "Yes, that's why I suggest we should call the whole case 'JoJo'.", just as she had said it, Gavin laughed out loud, crying with tears.

Gavin’s amusement was contagious and yn joined him while she pinched the bridge of his nose.

Even Hank started to rumble with laughter, "Yeah, we should take this name. It won't get any better, I guess. Where can we find this guy?"

"Maybe in a circus with clowns?", Gavin suggested still grinning.

Yn chuckled but shook her head to get back on track, "Actually, he deals in Liberty park.

Twenty minutes later, all four were sitting in the 'Liberty Park Café' for 'observation'. For normal people, it wasn't that easy to detect a dealer. But for three cops and an android, it shouldn't be that hard. At least, they could disguise their work with some coffee and snacks. Mostly, coffee.

The group took a table near a window to have the park in sight. It was snowing again and therefore, too cold to be outside for too long. Because they had no picture of Joseph, they had to rely on their observation skills.

"Could this be our guy?", Connor asked and pointed at a guy with long hair and a beard. He stood underneath a tree with his hands buried in the pockets of his long coat.

Yn took a grape of the fruit salad and threw it into her mouth before she looked at the guy. It was the third guy Connor had found suspicious, "Well…", yn started, considering the possibility but then, a woman appeared and walked straight to the guy. She hugged and kissed him before they wandered off with linked arms.

Gavin looked annoyed at Connor with crossed arms, "Wow, tin can, you're the best Investigator ever."

“It’s not that I could detect drugs from this distance.”, Connor defended himself.

“Then, I don’t see why you’re even here.”

“Because yn asked me-”

“You asked him?”, Gavin asked exasperatedly and looked at her with a dark expression.

She raised her hands in surrender, “He’s Hank’s partner so, of course, he’s on board. I’m sure he will play a good role in this case.”, she said and once again, she noticed Gavin’s mood. He was on the edge of the next outburst.

Luckily, Hank was this time the one who spotted the next suitable candidate for their suspect and stopped Gavin to say whatever he wanted next, “I guess, this could be our guy.”

The other three of the group looked at a guy in his twenties. He wore some pair of jeans with holes, a t-shirt of an old grunge rock band and a black, well-worn, leather jacket. His long, blonde, greasy looking hair was tied to a ponytail. He leant casually against a street lamp as if he was waiting for someone and at the same time as if he would have all the time in the world.

“It could be JoJo.”, yn said with a slow nod. His appearance coincided with the few details she had found in the statements. The hair, height and surprisingly, the t-shirt were the same.

“It could be just another guy waiting for a hooker.”, Gavin grunted. In his eyes, nothing of this was worth his time.

“Hey, JoJo!”, a guy on a bicycle called out and waved as he passed the grunge guy.

All three pairs of eyes were landing on Gavin who rolled with his eyes, “Oh, please! That can’t be true.”, he said and wiped over his face with his hand.

"So, that's our guy, then.", Connor said with a pleased smile. He was a big fan of having a clear suspect.

The group observed JoJo for a while. Hank ordered new coffee and as their cups were refilled, several people had passed JoJo. Some were just greeting him. Some had talked with him, maybe buying drugs, “Couldn’t we just arrest him?”, Connor asked.

“We could but if yn’s theory is right, he could lead us to his boss.”, Hank explained.

"He has a type.", yn said suddenly.

"A type? A type of what?", Connor asked confused. Somehow, he had the feeling that whenever he was learning one new thing there were two other things coming his way, like these human comments.

Yn looked at Connor with a grin, "A type of woman. He ignores the blondes. But he looks after the brunette."

"No!", Gavin called out and looked serious at yn. His brows were knitted together and yn saw his eyes sparkling darkly. There he was again: her all too protective partner… or at least, he tried to be that.

Her smirk grew bigger, "It's a good idea, I think."

Gavin gritted his teeth, "And I say, no!"

"What is going on?", Connor asked Hank low while he watched the exchange between yn and Gavin.

"I'm not really sure…", Hank answered.

Before Hank could speak out his assumption, Gavin was faster to explain, "She wants to meet him.", he said coldly.

"What?", Connor asked surprised and looked at yn.

"It's the best chance we have. I'll go over to him, flirt a bit and bug him. Then, we will get him and his boss. We will have a chance to get the whole circus. It won't take me more than ten minutes.", yn said smirking, leant back in her seat with crossed arms and watched Gavin almost exploding in front of her eyes.

"And my answer is no!", he called out, which caused the other guests to look at the small group.

Yn looked challenging at Gavin, "Good that I haven't asked you for permission."

"Then, I will go with you.", Gavin demanded, thinking of himself as smart.

Yn’s eyes grew big. She looked at her partner with a confused expression, "Are you nuts? How shall I flirt with him when you're around?", she said and gestured to him and his appearance.

Gavin saw something in her eyes, in the way she was looking at him. Not sure if he was right, if she was giving him a compliment in some way or not. Was it possible that she could see him in a certain way?

"I can go with her.", Connor offered and broke Gavin’s train of thought and the connection he had with yn.

"You?", Gavin asked spitefully and sizesing up the android.

"Yes... I could act as her servant android. Even now, there are still androids out there who are serving humans. It would be no big deal.", Connor explained.

Yn was already hooked, "Best idea!I told you he will play a role in this case. So, we have a plan. Tomorrow, we will bug this fucker."

“Gavin, no!”, yn called out. Again and again, Gavin wished he had listened to her instead of being hard headed to stop the crazy guy on his own. Once again, Gavin suffered through the events of the last case in his dream. And once again, he heard the shots from the guy. Then, he shot the guy on his own just to find yn lying on the ground bleeding. Gavin ran over to her, turned her around and tried to wake her up but she was already unconscious. He knelt next to her, pressing his hand on her bleeding wounds to stop the blood until the ambulance was coming. He even drove to the hospital to stay by her side.

Two long hours, he was waiting til the doctor came to him, telling Gavin that she was alright and would be okay. Gavin even waited til he could visit her in the room a few hours later. Slowly, and with shaking knees, Gavin went to her room, opened the door and slipped carefully in.

Gavin’s blood was running cold because of the scene in front of him. Next to yn’s bed sat Connor, holding her hand in his with intertwined fingers. Yn was already awake, looking at the android with a love filled glance. Connor looked from yn at Gavin and back at yn, “Look who’s there. Gavin came to see you.”, Connor said softly.

“Gavin? Who’s Gavin?”, she said without even looking up…

It was three o’clock in the morning and Gavin started up from the dream, from the nightmare, with a racing heart. Once again, he was soaked with sweat. He raked his fingers through his wet hair and without a second thought, he stood up to go into his bathroom. He splashed cold water into his face several times. As he looked up into the mirror, he saw a pale guy with dark shadows under his eyes. Gavin grabbed a bottle of shampoo and threw it violently into the shower, “This god damn, fucking android!”, he yelled out. Within a few days, Connor had been able to get closer to yn. Gavin feared this android would be even able to win her over. Maybe Gavin should gather all his courage to speak with her as long as there was time or otherwise, the android could snatch her from under his nose. But how should he do that without risking their friendship?

Yn rummaged through her bag with clothes. She already wore some leather boots, a tight fitting and low cut, black jeans and searched for the blood red tank top. She had made her hair and she even had put makeup on with too much mascara and eyeliner for the most dramatic look. Yn found the tank top and donned it over her head. As she pulled it down, a movement in the mirror caught her attention, "Voyeurism, huh? That's a crime.", she said, smirking.

Gavin closed slowly up to her with his hands stuffed into his front pockets of his jacket, "I know. We worked on some of these cases. Listen-", he said softly, collecting all his courage and searching for the right words.

"I know what you want to say and yes, I will be careful. Connor is by my side. You and Hank on the other side of the street by the café. Nothing will happen. This is easy. You don't have to worry this much.", yn said reassuringly while she donned her leather jacket over the top. The outfit would be a bit too cold for the weather but she wanted to flirt with the suspect and so, she had to show off some skin. She even pulled down the top some more so that her décolleté got more visible.

Gavin’s eyes fell on that view which caused his mind to go blank for a moment. All in all, she was very distracting, dressed up like this and he had difficulties to focus back on what he actually wanted, "Uhm… I… It's just... There's something I have to tell-", he tried insecurely, not sure if this was a good idea at all. If Gavin would go this way there was no going back and he knew that.

The door of the locker room opened once again and Hank took the decision away from Gavin, "Yn, Fowler wants to see you.", the Lieutenant said and left again.

"Coming!”, yn called out as a response and stowed away her bag and stuff before she turned back to Gavin, “Get ready. We will leave soon.", she said with a soft pat on his chest and a smile on her lips.

Gavin looked after her. He huffed out, annoyed about himself as the door opened once again. Yn’s head appeared in the door, "Oh, and, by the way, this shirt you wear? It looks very good. The color suits your eyes.", she said, winked at him and left again. Gavin smiled softly and felt his cheeks getting warmer. He was sure that she had no idea what she was doing to him but he enjoyed these small moments. They were all he got.

Then, it was showtime. Hank and Gavin stood across the walkway at a bar table with two cups of coffee to go as a disguise to be able to watch the scene. JoJo was already there, leaning at the same street lamp like the day before. Now and then, he greeted someone. Then, Gavin watched yn coming down the way, still in some distance. She said something to Connor that let the android chuckle. Connor looked down at yn with a huge smile and as she looked up at him, her smile was matching the android’s one. Pain shot through Gavin as he got reminded of his dream from the night before. It was a horrible nightmare with an end that never happened like this but his mind was determined to let him suffer even more. As if it wouldn’t be enough to get reminded of yn being shot all the time. No, now the android had to be in his dreams, as well.

“It’s good that Connor kept his LED ring.”

“W-what?”, Gavin asked. Hank had pulled him out of his thoughts and this time, Gavin was thankful for the old man to be there, even if he would never admit that loudly.

Hank nodded into the direction of Connor and yn, they almost had reached JoJo, “I mean without the LED ring, Connor would look more like her handsome boyfriend than her servant.”, Hank said amused.

Gavin observed the two and wasn’t happy what he saw. Connor was dressed completely in black and with his height he looked like a bodyguard. The way they interacted told that they seemed to be very close to each other. Gavin was looking forward to the end of this bullshit, his nerves were already blank but the case just had started. It would last a bit longer til everything would fall back to normal again without Connor and Hank being around them all the time.

Then, yn passed JoJo and as she had expected, the dealer was looking after her. Much to her delight, he even whistled after her as she swayed her hips a bit more provokingly. Yn stopped and turned around. JoJo was confident, very confident, he smirked at her and wasn’t impressed by Connor as he stepped a bit forward. Yn gave him a sign to stay where he was before she walked over to JoJo with a flirty smirk on her lips.

The longer she was talking to the dealer, the more Gavin became nervous. It got on his nerves to see JoJo coming closer to yn step by step. She was laughing about whatever he said. She leant forward to be closer to him whenever she could. And Connor just stood there, observing the scene, looking out for her - as planned.

Hank noticed that Gavin was annoyed by the scene. Since yn had began to talk with JoJo, Gavin had started to torture his empty cardboard cup. He was drumming on the lid and scratching on the material the longer the whole scene lasted.

As JoJo touched yn on her hip while he leant forward to whisper something into her ear, Gavin squashed the cardboard cup completely with his knuckles turning white.

"You know, Reed, that's the reason why you couldn't do Connor's job.", Hank said and pointed at Gavin's hand.

"Shut the fuck up.", Gavin muttered angrily and just relaxed as yn and Connor left the scene finally.

#dbh #dbh connor #gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #dbh gavin reed #dbh gavin #detroit become human #detroit become human gavin #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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manychocolatefactories · 3 years

Text

CatCF Ruby Chocolate: Part 1, Kids and characters

This version is the last of the "four main versions". It is named after the new, fourth type of chocolate discovered in 2004 but only publically released in 2017. It is a modern version, supposed to take place in the 2010s. In this version, there are six Golden Tickets released in the world.

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on: Augustus Gloop)

This version of Augustus was inspired by the 2013 musical, more specifically by the idea of a cute little boy that eats "pigs limbs from limbs", and also swallows whole little dogs. So, something quite dark.

Augustus has a very cute face. A chubby, angelic face, like the puttis of the Renaissance paintings: blond curls, puppy eyes, a radiant smile. If he wants, he can make your heart melt like the video of a little kitten purring.

But Augustus is hungry. All of the time. He eats and snacks all day long. He dreams of food. He sleep-walks to eat. And while he adores candies and chocolate, there is one thing he loves more than anything else: meat. Meat and blood. He is a true carnivore, for him every meal rhymes with "meat". And if you leave him unattended, he will try to get meat by himself. For exemple, by attacking a living pig and devouring it on the spot. Or by biting off the fingers of a plump woman. But, of course, all of that with a cute smile and while saying sorry in the most adorable way.

Nowadays, if your cute you must be innocent, and thus forgien.

Augustus' body is not as cute as his face. It is said to be a "bloated mass of pink flesh", actually very similar to the body of a pig. His fatness is described as "ill-fitting", as if it was "forced" onto his body. His overweightness is not natural. It is puffy, flabby, bloated, but doesn't feel "natural".

Augustus also always wear ill-fitting clothes and suits.

Mrs. Gloop is a tiny woman, usually wearing a pale pink skirt suit, with her hair arranged in a crown of braids. She might be tiny, but she is bold, energetic, and speaks both clearly and loudly. She has so much presence, she often intimidates people. She keeps reminding others of how cute her son, and how eating makes him grow strong. She insists that she is a good mother who makes sure her son eats of everything (to have a balanced diet), eats well (by giving him only the finest and best-quality products (such as the Wonka bars and not their cheap rivals knock-offs), and of course, she only feeds her son because he "needs nourishment".

And don't dare criticize her, or she will scream so much, so hard and so high your ears will bleed. Just like the "original" Mrs. Gloop, this one keeps pointing out the "hooligans", saying it is better to stay at home eating food than being a violent thug on the street. My iteration sincerely believes that violence and criminality is due to poverty, hunger and lack of food, and if everyone was well-fed the world ould be at peace.

(For her, think of Mrs. Gloop the original, mixed with Bernadette from the Big Bang Theory )

Mr. Gloop (full name, Gordon Gloop, parody of Gordon Ramsey) is the son of a butcher, and the grandson of a slaughterhouse worker. He was always knee-deep in blood, and as a result grew accustomed to killing animals and cooking them (in fact the sight of blood makes him peckish). He is a tall and strong man, but suffers from a bad sleep due to his wife's horribly loud snoring.

He tried to teach his son the refinment of haute cuisine, for Mr. Gloop is a world-renowned cook, but to his disappointment Augustus only cares for raw meat and drinking blood-dipped candies. Mr. Gloop is so obsessed with having good dishes and best-quality ingredients, he keeps at the back of his house a little barnyard full of cattle (if he ever has to serve some steak or ribs to his guests). Trouble is, Augustus keeps sneaking into said barnyard to devour the poor animals.

Second Winner: Elvira Entwhistle

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

Veruca Salt being a pretty solid and complete archetype in herself (the girl who wants it all and has her parents buy her all), it is quite hard to reimagine her. So, I tried thinking about "why" she wants things - given the actions are settled and confirmed, it is the goals that are important, the motivation. And , in our time of modernity, what makes people want things? Trends, fashions, what is "in".

This reinterpretation of Veruca, named Elvira Entwhistle (after one of the old drafts names), is a mix between Chanel Oberlin from Scream Queens and Esmé Squalor from a Series of Unfortunate Events. She is a girl living for trends, for fashions, buying and acquiring all of the latest things "in", only to discard them as soon as they are "out" or not trendy anymore. Spending her time on social media, following models and influencers, she keeps going to luxury shops with her "personal assistant" (a nice name for what is a modern slave) to buy accessories, jewels, clothes, pets and whatever corresponds to the current trend.

Spoiled, impatient, self-centered and short-tempered, she needs to have the latest fashion NOW or she will get insanely angry. She also doesn't hesitate to change her personal appearance to fit all the new trends (for exemple her hair changes color and shape every week). Of course, she got her Golden Ticket because it was the current trend. Everyone was searching for it, so she had to get a Ticket to be the most "in" person around.

Third Winner: Mike Teavee

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

For this version of Mike Teavee, I wanted to get away from the usual hyperactive and hyper-violent kid. I wanted to take back this common idea that television makes you stupid and sluggish, by making Mike the perfect embodiment of a couch potato (even though he was designed to look at the same time like a mushroom and a zombie).

Mr. and Mrs. Teavee are hard-working people, who spend their entire week working and only come back at home for very brief periods of times (usually in the week-end) before going right back at work. As a result, Mike barely knows his parents. He doesn't even know what kind of work they do. To "babysit" their son, the Teavees bought an enormous, high-definition television with a 666 channels pack, and kept telling him to not go outside due to the outside world being "dangerous" and filled with crushing bikes, killing cars, kidnappers and the like. This is how Mike began his life as a shut-in.

Spending his days looking at the television, never going outside, he ended up closing all shutters because light bothered him. Living in the dark, barely lifting his body from the couch, he only survives on candies, snacks, television-plates and microwaved/defrosted food (and the Teavee family can afford to buy a lot of it, because they are really, really rich - Mike has accounts in three different banks).

The result? A chalk-white boy. A bloated ans shapeless body. A full-moon face covered in craters and scars due to a bad case of acne. Two dead, sunken, small eyes. Speakin slowly, and often pronouncing only half of the words, Mike refuses to answer or talk to anyone while television is on : he only speaks during "uninteresting advertisements". The only thing muscular in his body are his fingers, that got a lot of muscle mass due to twitching frenetically all day long on the remote to channel-hop.

Mike is actually a very intelligent boy, but all his cleverness and intellectual gifts are buried and wasted by the brain-washing of his shut-in life and his television obsession. He got his Golden Ticket because his parents often buy him Wonka bars as "television snacks". Even though, in his own words, he prefers food that "tastes like plastic".

Fourth Winner: Violet Beauregarde

(Based on: Volet Beauregarde)

What is Violet, originally? She is a girl that seeks fame and attention, that is snarky, that is nasty towards people, and that does stupid records. What reflects that perfectly in our day and age? Reality television shows!

Violet Beauregarde was strongly inspired by the most brainless and "sassy/nasty" stars of reality television and the Internet. She is a teenage girl wearing clothes of such bright, flashy and clashing colors it often hurts people's eyes. Her face is covered in makeup, her hair is covered in extensions and her hands are covered with fake fingernails.

She thinks she can be as rude and horrible as she wants, as long as she calls it "sassy". But on the other side, she considers "rude" anyone or anything that doesn't please her, or that is too "ugly" or "dirty" for her. She is the kind of girl that keeps screaming loudly "YAAAAAAASSS, bitches!" and "DAAAMMMNNNN", that calls herself "the queen", that chews ferociously on her gum all day long, and that says "Why are you touching me? See, you're touching me again!" while she is the one hitting people. She hates everything "old" and "boring". She keeps publishing musical albums that nobody actually buys, because she sings badly mere words (her singles being titled "Lalalala" and "Heyheyheyhey" - she never understood a song needed to have lyrics). Finally, her biggest dream is to be part of a TV-reality show.

Her father, Mr. Beauregarde, feeds his daughter's "bitchy diva" attitude and her delusions of grandeur by acting as his agent (just like in the 2013 musical). He is also the "ringleader" of Violet's circus (because Violet, with her clothes of ridiculous colors, and her enormous amount of makeup, has a clown subtext). As a result, Mr. Beauregarde is like a ringleader in acircus, a showrunner in a freak show, and also an agent. He "sells" his daughter, he organizes her interviews, he has people pay money for "extra time" with Violet, he shows her around, and finally he uses his whip (yes, he has a whip) to attack all those that try to "touch the product".

He is a short, flabby and balding man, that smokes very long and thick cigars, wears enormous rings and clothes that are garrish and clownish - his over-the-top and ridiculous fashion sense is clearly a compensation for what he lacks in height, hair and health.

Fifth Winner: Marvin Prune

(Based on: Marvin Prune)

In the original drafts of Roald Dahl, Marvin Prune was a Mr. Know-it-All, a too-perfect schoolboy obsessed with studies, an arrogant bookworm, a haughty teacher's pet, you named it. In this version, i decided to keep the idea of Marvin being a "know-it-all", but instead of using school, books and the like, he rather uses modern technology and the Internet.

Marvin is a tech-obsessed boy. He lives for, with and through technology, to the point of neglecting to live in the real world. He thinks his over-use of technology, and all the knowledge it can provide him, make him an "intelligent" and "superior" boy (when in fact it does not).

He thinks he can claim to have been everywhere in the world because he visited virtually all the most important landmarks of the world. He claims he can speak all the languages in the world, but in fact he uses translation websites. He keeps tracks of all his bodily functions thanks to health monitors (heartbeats, blood pressure, cholesterole...) but not because he is concerned for his health, merely for the sake of knowing more things. For him, Googling something is the best solution to all your troubles, and as a result he is a self-centered and pompous boy.

Due to his technology dependance, Marvin is actually quite a weak boy. Since he doesn't do any sport or physical activity, and since he rarely leaves his house (due to always ordering things online, having classes online and visiting places virtually), he is a quite thin and frail boy, if not emaciated - at least, a good chunk of his muscle mass has melted away.

The original parents of Marvin Prune were, in Dahl's works, teachers and school principals. I decided here to go with the opposite of a teacher : Mrs. Prune never does anything herself, and always blame it on others. There are problems in the world? For her people should fix it, but they are too lazy to do it - while she herself does nothing about it. Her son acts rude? "Someone should teach him good manners" she says. She loses all of her money? "That's because the people in charge of the economy are all incompetent!"

Mrs. Prune thinks of everything and everyone as stupid because it allows her to blame all of her problems and flaws on other people. But ultimately she never takes any kind of action herself. If someone should teach her son good manners, it is "those lazy teachers at school", certainly not her! She also dislikes things that are "foreign".

Marvin found the Golden Ticket when he ordered by mistake a chocolate bar in France : in truth, he wanted to buy a "tablet" (in French a tablet is tablette, and a chocolate bar is also a tablette de chocolat).

Marvin will also be incredibly frustrated inside Wonka's factory, because in there numeric devices mess up, stop weirdly or disfunction totally (the same way UFOs tend to mess up phones, radios, computers and the like). As a result, he becomes powerless and helpless.

Sixth Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charkie Bucket)

Here, I decided to really twist things up. To have a Charlie Bucket that isn't thin or malnourished, but fat! Yes, here's Chubby Charlie! (No, not Fat Charlie, this one is copyrighted)

Charlie's story is deeply linked to the story of the Wonka factory. The town Charlie lives in was built around the Wonka Factory a bit before the 20th century - it was a "worker town", created to allow the workers of the factory to live with their family next to their place of work. For more than fifty years the Factory was the only occupation and work of the town. But somewhere in the 1950s or 1960s, all the workers had to take an early retirement. They were kicked out, and the Factory closed to the public. The Factory was still working, but not hiring anyone anymore. This was an enormous blow to both the town's economy and moral. There was an economic crisis and poverty (since people were trained only to work in a candy factory).

But there was one good thing: since it was the town Wonka's products were created in, they were sold at must cheaper prices than anywhere else in the world, and all the ex-workers of the Factory got in exchange for their work coupons and reductions for themselves and all of their families - reductions on the Wonka products, of course. This was seen as a chance, because the Wonka products were world-renowned candies, even luxury goods in foreign countries. It was like being able to buy haute-couture as daily clothes and eat gastronomic cuisine every week-end.

But this good wasn't so "good". Indeed, given the poverty and lack of job in town, the ex-workers and their family relied more and more on the coupons and reductions, their diets filled with candy and sugary products. As a result, from the 1970s to the 2010s, the number of people suffering from obesity, diabetes and teeth problems blew up.

[ This background is actually a mix of two different real-world fact. Real-world fact 1: the Menier Chocolate Factory in France, aka the real-life Wonka Factory, was revolutionary for creating a town for its workers, and taking care of their health, education and the like, but closed after World War II, to the deception of everyone. Real-world fact 2: Coca-Cola, Nestlé and other big food industries tend to pay their employees with extra-sugary and extra-addictive if their own products in poor areas, such as South America - resulting in sicknesses and diseases.]

As a result, in this version Charlie is fat. Because in modern days, and in developped countries, poverty and malnourishment actually leads to obesity and diabetes, due to the cheapest food being candies and junk-food.

This version of Charlie is a very nice kid, but a kid addicted to the Wonka products. He grew up on the coupons, due to his family all being ex-workers. Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George both worked at the factory, but were too old or sick after being fired to find a new job ; Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had been trained for the factory and could barely afford new studies after its closing. Mr. Bucket became a street cleaner, while Mrs. Bucket became a receptionist and secretary for a dental office (due to the rise of tooth diseases, dental offices boomed in town, but most are actually crooked or scams).

Charlie grew up in a very humble home, with two parents working really hard to have enough money to buy food for everyone. Of course, fresh or good food is too expensive. Charlie tries to help his family the best way he can with his part-time job (making people fill surveys) and by working really hard at school. But as the years go by, his weight and his health are beginning to cause problems. Due to not having any money he can't do sports, wich makes him gain weight, and the fattest he is the hardest it is to do sport, it's a vicious circle. Every year, the scale reveals he puts on more and more weight, and faster and faster - if he doesn't do something quick, he may end up obese.

And, as I mentionned before, Charlie is truly obsessed with the Wonka products, it is an addiction. He dreams of them at night. He sticks Wonka bars wrappers on the wall of his room like posters. He drools at the mere mention of a Wonka bar. He isn't spoiled, cruel or nasty, but he is too addicted for his own good. In fact, when he finds money in the stret and buy chocolate bars with it, it is a pure act of selfishness, because he doesn't have the willpower to turn away from the candy shop and go back home.

#catcf #charlie and the chocolate factory #charlie bucket #augustus gloop #veruca salt #mike teavee #violet beauregarde #marvin prune

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 5 years

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A Writer’s Guide to Viewpoints

Most of us know that there are three major viewpoints from which stories are told:

First Person -- “I tell my own story with the pronoun ‘I’ because I’m just so damn awesome.”

Second Person -- “You are a character in this story, and you can’t do anything about it. If it makes you uncomfortable, tough shit.”

Third Person -- “He muttered himself and pulled the blankets over his head, wishing this asshole would stop narrating his life.”

Those are the three viewpoints, and that’s all there is to it. Just pick your favorite, and you’re ready to go. Right?

Well. Not exactly.

You see, my fellow scribblers, there are actually multiple sub categories of each viewpoint -- beyond even the “Third Person Omniscient” or “Third Person Subjective.”

To be specific:

First Person:

First Person Informant

First Person Reminiscent

Unreliable

Second Person:

Reader as Character

I Substitute

Third Person:

Objective

Limited

Multiple Selective Omniscience

Omniscient

This might seem overwhelming, but fear not! Each perspective is fairly easy to break down, and ultimately, apply to your own work and understanding of literature. This post will elucidate each.

So let’s take charge of our narratives and delve in, like the active protagonists we are.

What is the First Person?

I’m sure we all know this, but a First Person narrator tells their story from the pronoun I (or sometimes we, though this is quite rare.)

The different factions of First Person narration are somewhat under-discussed -- certainly not as widely known as the Third Person Omniscient versus Objective viewpoints -- but, as these examples prove, they do exist.

As you read, you’ll likely think back to your favorite narrators, and realize that not all First Person viewpoints were created equal.

The First Person Informant:

“I’m telling it like it is. As it’s happening. I’m living in the moment, and watching it unfold with you. Look at us, charging blindly into the future together. Isn’t it exciting?”

This dude conveys the events as they transpire, or appear to transpire, in the present. There’s no “once upon a time” for him. Merely the unfurling now.

Examples:

“Vampires in the Lemon Grove,” by Karen Russel

“In every season you can find me sitting at my bench, watching them fall. Only one or two lemons tumble from the branches each hour, but I’ve been sitting here so long their falls seem continuous, close as raindrops. My wife has no patience for this sort of meditation. “Jesus Christ, Clyde,” she says, “You need a hobby.”

Russel’s narrator – a world-weary vamp navigating the tribulations of eternal love and insatiable bloodlust in an Italian lemon grove – is an excellent example of a first-person informant. He isn’t telling us about the lemon grove as it was, but as it is. The lemons fall before his eyes as they fall before ours. We are in this lemon grove together.

“Natural Selection,” by Jacob M. Appel

“The stolen baboon. On the evening news, she’s an irrelevancy -- a simian mug shot tucked between National Hairball Awareness Day and an interview with the Boston Strangler’s Children. Six hours later, she’s lounger on the sofa in our living room, smacking together her protruded lips, scratching her back on the damask. Suburban Tampa is apparently far more fun than a lab cage in Atlanta.”

Here, we are transported directly into a father’s dilemma after his well-meaning yet painfully naive and somewhat spoiled daughter “liberates” a mistreated lab baboon -- a decision that could effectively ruin both of their lives. The informant perspective amplifies the reader’s suspense, as we are in the moment with him and can only discover the outcome by watching events unfold (or skipping pages.)

“What I Do All Day,” by Hellen Ellis

“Inspired by Beyonce, I stallion-walk to the toaster. I show my husband where a burnt spot looks like the island where we honeymooned, kiss him good-bye, and tell him what time to be home for our party.”

This one is just great. We are transported into the perspective of a seemingly chipper, affluent housewife as she quietly goes insane from suffocating domesticity and the horror of a meaningless life. And, emphasized by the informant perspective, we feel all of this with her! It is characteristically brilliant and hilarious satire from Ellis’s brilliant and hilarious collection, American Housewife.

The First Person Reminiscent:

“It was on a dark and rainy night when I decided to tell this story. I tell it as I remember it, after these events have transpired. Let’s look back on them together.”

In this perspective, the narrator is looking back on events after they have happened. He isn’t describing these events as they unfold; he is telling a story.

Examples:

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel

There are actually two reminiscent narrators here. The titular Pi, and the author who has elected to tell his story.

“This book was born as I was hungry. Let me explain. In the spring of 1996, my second book, a novel, came out in Canada. It didn’t fair well. Reviewers were puzzled, or damned it with faint praise. Then readers ignored it. Despite my best efforts at plating the clown or the trapeze artist, the media circus made no difference. The book did not move. Books lined the shelves of bookstores like kids standing in a row to play baseball or soccer, and mine was the gangly, unathletic kid that no one wanted on their team. It vanished quickly or quietly.”

So opens this immensely clever novel, which, in all regards, blurs the lines between allegory and reality. However, most of it is narrated by the eponymous Pi, who becomes this author’s muse.

“I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart.”

Here we have Pi, reflecting on his spiritual and allegorical companion, Richard Parker (an oddly named tiger whom we come to love as much as Pi does.) Pi’s retrospective narration allows for the clear-sighted view of his complex feelings that can only come with time and distance. Thus, this reminiscent narration enhances the power of the narrative.

The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”

My feelings towards J.D. Salinger are somewhat negative (I recommend you watch the documentary Salinger to figure out why) but this book is timeless for a reason. This opening line offers up countless questions that leave you thinking long after you turn the final page. Moreover, it impeccably establishes the voice that will carry us throughout its meandering narrative. Catcher in the Rye would not be the same without its reminiscent narration, and this line establishes that.

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

This opening line makes me somewhat sick to read, because, of course, it is the floral soliloquy a frothing, rabid pedophile, about a “four feet ten” twelve-year-old girl. But, as a piece of art, it is still remarkably done -- the perspective of a monster, putting himself on trial before an imaginary jury, and telling a story that is invariably partial towards his warped perspective. Once again, the retrospective is integral to this grotesquely fascinating narrative.

The Unreliable Narrator:

“I am the King of the Lizard People, and no one will acknowledge it but me. Don’t believe me? Too bad. I’m the one telling this story, and you have no choice but to believe my dubious rendition of these events.”

It’s widely debated as to whether this should be its own category. Why? Because all first person narrators are inherently unreliable. We just have little choice but to take their information as it’s denoted to us. Oftentimes, they win our trust; but other times, it is their unabashed unreliability that makes the narrative memorable.

Don’t believe me? All of the past three examples were unreliable narrators. And I examine several more in my post on types of unreliable narrators here.

In the meantime, let’s move on to the oft-underrated Second Person.

What is the Second Person?

This highly controversial viewpoint uses the pronoun “you.” Most people associate this perspective with amateur fanfiction or pretentious purple prose, but let me tell you: when this perspective works, it is stellar. And I’ll explain why.

The Reader as a Character

“You’re walking down the street, and you realize the narrator is talking about you. Maybe you like this. Maybe you don’t. The narrator doesn’t care. The narrator is a cruel and indifferent god. You put in your headphones to tune the narrator out. The narrator finds this incredibly rude. You can’t escape me, motherfucker.”

This is what most people think about when they picture a Second Person Narrative. Okay, not this specifically -- being frank, most people probably think about reader-insert fanfiction (which can be amazing as well.) This viewpoint asks the reader to imagine themselves as a character -- usually the main character -- in the narrative.

Examples:

“This is a Story About You,” from Welcome to Night Vale, by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Craner

“‘This is a story about you,’ said the man on the radio. And you were pleased, because you always wanted to hear about yourself on the radio.”

Even if you’re unfamiliar to this podcast, I highly recommend you listen to this episode (or read the transcript) immediately. It shows you virtually everything reader-insert can be, and what a remarkable effect it can have. It virtually envelops you in this perspective, this town, and this surrealistic reality.

“The Young Immortal,” by Brooksie C. Fontaine (me!)

“When it started, it was the February fourteenth of 1945. An American plane was hit in the engine by Japanese fire, fell from the slate gray sky like a shooting star. Its blazing red reflection ignited the swell of colorless water. And then it was gone, taking with it all the color in the world.

In that plane was my fellow air force pilot. The love of my life.

You.

I know what you’re thinking: you weren’t alive in ‘45, and you weren’t a man. Well, I’m gonna tell you you’re wrong on both counts. You’ve been a man before. You’ll be one again. It doesn’t matter to me, so long as it’s you.”

This one is unique, because it includes both the First Person Reminiscent (the eponymous immortal narrator) and the Second Person Reader as Character. The reader is in the perspective of the narrator’s oft-reincarnated love interest, and so I decided to include it as an example.

The “I” Substitute

“You were fifteen when you realized you could only get hard if you were thinking about carnivorous dinosaurs. Not me. You. This has absolutely nothing to do with me, and I resent the insinuation that it does. This is your problem, dino-fucker. This is your story. This is about you.”

This one’s interesting. The narrator is in denial, and using the second-person to distance themselves from the events of the story. It is a substitute for the First Person, and a thinly-veiled one at that.

Examples:

“Freaks,” by Alden Jones

“From the cluster of mourners, Kristen’s mother had emerged; she strode towards you. Her straight brown hair was limp and flyaway. She wore the expression of an animal who wanted to devour you. Her eyes were cushioned by the bluish puffed skin beneath them, but they flashed hot with fury.

‘You,’ she said. She pointed her finger. She began to gallop. ‘You think you see something no one else sees?’ she called. Mourners turned to watch her progress towards you. Heather took a step away.

You dangled the camera by your side. You froze. You did nothing but watch the thing happen.

‘YOU,’ the mother said, charging. ‘YOU. YOU.’”

These are actually the concluding lines of this haunting story from Jones’s collection, Unaccompanied Minors. I had the pleasure of hearing her read this story for my graduate program; in the Q&A afterwards, she explained how the narrative, and the characters’ mentality throughout the story, depended on the Second Person. “It was a different story without it,” she said.

“The Other Person,” by Nathan Leslie

“You write the story in the second person. It’s your go-to point of view now. You like it’s edge, its resonance of irony, even if your story lacks said irony (it adds irony). You makes anything possible. You is the new me.”

This one is simultaneously hilarious, sad, and strangely invigorating. It encapsulates the deep trenches of insecurity that come with being an author, and whittles them into sharp, sly satire. The “I” Substitute doesn’t just emphasize the story; it is the story. This story would not exist without it.

Now that I’ve successfully changed your mind about the Second Person (and if you still don’t agree with me, you’re wrong), let’s move on to the ever-popular yet difficult-to-master Third Person.

What is the Third Person?

You know what the third person is, but I’ll suspend my disbelief and pretend you don’t. It uses the pronouns he, she, or they, but the perspective can be virtually anywhere. Which makes the Third Person such an interesting thing to explore.

Third Person Objective

“She slaps him. He touches the red mark her ring left behind, and stares at her with wide eyes.”

This one is also known as The Dramatic, The Camera Lens, or The Fly on the Wall perspective. It describes the events as we would view them, with no inside information into the thoughts or motivations of the characters. What we see is what we get, and we have to discern the characters’ feelings based on what they say and do.

Example:

“Meanwhile. A Conversation,” from American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

“‘Miz Crow?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are Samantha Black Crow?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you mind if we ask you a few questions, ma’am?’

‘Are you cops? What are you?’

‘My name is Town. My colleague here is Mister Road. We’re investigating the disappearance of two of our associates.’

‘What were their names?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Tell me their names. I want to know what they were called. Your associates. Tell me their names and maybe I’ll help you.’

‘...Okay. Their names were Mister Stone, and Mister Wood. Now, can we ask you some questions?’

‘Do you guys just see things and pick names? “Oh, you be Mister Sidewalk, he’s Mister Carpet, say hello to Mister Airplane?”’”

In this unique and hilarious chapter, we witness an exchange between (bisexual icon) Samantha Black Crow and a minor villain who has been assigned to track down the protagonist. We aren’t privy to either of the characters’ emotions or thoughts, or even their actions, yet we can discern all of it from dialogue alone.

Third Person Limited

“She’s had enough of his bullshit. Something in her snaps, and her open palm collides -- hard -- with the side of his stupid, stupid face. He touches the red mark she left behind, staring at her like he can’t believe she actually did that. Good. Maybe that’ll teach him to stop being such an pugnacious fuckwad.”

This one is tethered to a specific character, whose thoughts and feelings we are aware of. However, we are not inside the mind of the character in the same manner as a First Person narrator.

Examples:

American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough, and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

Though American Gods features an impressive diversity of perspectives, we spend most of the book tethered to the lovable ex-con Shadow Moon. We are never trapped inside his head, as we would be if the story were First Person, but we know what he is thinking and feeling. He is our viewpoint character.

The Giver, by Lois Lowry

“It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen. Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice. He had seen it both times. Squinting toward the sky, he had seen the sleek jet, almost a blur at its high speed, go past, and then a second later heard the blast of sound that followed. Then one more time, a moment later, from the opposite direction, the same plane.”

Lois Lowry’s timeless, haunting dystopia is introduced through the guileless eyes of twelve-year-old Jonas. We are aloud to see the world from his perspective, but the distance of Third Person Limited allows us to feel the horror of each situation with more clarity. Lowry demonstrates how to utilize POV to one’s advantage, similar to how Neil Gaiman uses Third Person Limited to enhance the horror of his masterful modern fairy tale Coraline.

Multiple Selective Omniscience

“She decides she’s had enough of his bullshit, and slaps him. Hard. Hard enough that her ring leaves a red welt on his cheek.

He feels his eyes go wide, and he touches the side of his face. He keeps waiting for her to apologize, but her eyes are narrowed and her lips are pursed. She doesn’t look sorry.”

The viewpoint shifts between characters. It can be extremely effective, as long as we are aware of when the proverbial camera changes angles.

Examples:

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith

First of all: if you haven’t read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, do it. Do it right now. It is the piece of classic literature I recommend to everyone who hates classic literature, because it’s devoid of all of the traits that make people hate classic literature to begin with. It has oodles of complex, idiosyncratic, autonomous, and tough-as-hell female characters, bad language, and frank discussions of sexuality, poverty, and classism. Read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Anyway. Though its protagonist is Francie Nolan, who, like the eponymous tree, perseveres and thrives against insurmountable odds, the viewpoint bounces around an immense deal, between Francie’s family and neighbors to the most minor side-characters. Because of this, many people believe that the true protagonist is Brooklyn itself, and the people in it.

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie, by Ayana Mathis

This is a captivating, gut-wrenching book, similar to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn in its highly effective depiction of poverty. The book follows the children of Hattie Shepherd, a formerly young and optimistic mother, who lost her firstborn twins to an easily preventable disease in the aftermath of the Great Migration. The viewpoint changes with each chapter, showing the perspectives of each of her children and how they are haunted by this loss.

The Vacationers, by Emma Straub

A far cry from its poverty-focused predecessors, this book focuses on the problems of the affluent and privileged. It is, however, a deeply interesting read, as it swerves between the perspectives of the titular vacationers after a patriarch’s fore into adultery threatens his family and marriage.

Omniscient

“She decides she’s had enough of his bullshit, and to his surprise, she slaps him. Hard enough that he feels her ring leave a red welt on his flesh.

He touches his cheek in shock, and stares at her, awaiting an apology. But she isn’t sorry. All she feels is satisfaction.”

Just what it sounds like. The character is an all-knowing entity. Or Lemony Snicket. Perhaps both.

Examples:

Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng

“Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet.”

Celeste Ng’s beautiful and haunting novel begins with the wordless affirmation of the narration’s omniscience. The narrative knows things the characters don’t, though it doesn’t always choose to relay its secrets. In this case, it doesn’t answer the mystery of Lydia’s death until the very end -- an answer that the characters themselves will never discover.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

Tolkien’s book shows us how useful omniscience is for worldbuilding. He doesn’t need to cleverly sneak this exposition into Bilbo’s dialogue; he can tell it to us outright, and immediately draw us into this world while doing so.

Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

“Current theories on the creation of the Universe state that, if it was created at all and didn’t just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being between ten and twenty thousand years ago. By that same token the earth itself is generally supposed to be about four and a half thousand million years old.

These dates are incorrect.”

This delightfully Pratchett-esque opening immediately puts us into a -- literally -- godlike perspective, in which we are given insider information about the start of the universe. It immediately establishes the tone of this amazing novel: one in which life and creation are too important to be taken seriously. And for this purpose, this uniquely omniscient perspective is the only way to go.

That’s all I’ve got for now, my fellow scribblers! As you contemplate perspective, just think about how different the same events would look from a two disparate viewpoints. Even if two people are sharing a moment, that moment is different for both of them.

The perspective isn’t something you tack on to your story. Oftentimes, it defines your story. So choose carefully, and don’t be afraid to explore!

Happy writing, everybody! <3

#writing #writing tips #caff's writing tips #the author speaks #authors #writing resources #perspectives #writing perspectives #first person #second person #third person #pov #fiction

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stxn-the-mxn · 5 years

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Distant || Richie Tozier X Daughter!Reader

Request: could you write a fanfic about a losers club member x daughter ( doesn't matter which one) where pennywise turns the reader against her dad and like it works because the reader gets mad and shuts her parent out. And then she almost gets killed by pennywise but her parent saves her? thank you so much in advance! I loved your Richie x daughter imagine! - anon

***

Derry, Maine was fucking boring.

It had only taken you a couple of hours to realise this. You’d wandered around this entire town, and yet nothing had caught your eyes. How your father managed to grow up here was beyond you.

You were barely surviving the day when he’d survived years.

You swung on the hammock in the Losers clubhouse. It was extremely quiet, and you couldn’t lie that it was sort of creepy. Some of the wooden supports creaked and something told you that maybe it wasn’t safe to be there.

But Ben had said that it was safe. And you were sure that Ben could be trusted. He didn’t seem like the type to lie to a kid. Especially the kid of one of his closest friends. It had to be strong enough for you to push against it, right?

And so you did, trying to get the hammock to swing at the pace you wanted. You kicked the wooden pole harder than expected, feeling it shift. You froze as the pole came crashing to the ground. The next pole creaked, before also collapsing.

You gasped, throwing yourself out of the hammock. You watched in horror as the wooden steps came tumbling to the ground. The walls were caving in, dirt filling the clubhouse. As you coughed the dirt out of your lungs, you heard footsteps above.

“Dad? Anyone?” Your voice was shaky with fear, as everything collapsed around you. The dirt was now up to your waist, but it was rising quickly.

“Y/N?” It wasn’t a familiar voice calling your name, but any reassurance that someone was nearby was enough.

“Yes! I’m down here, and I’m trapped!”

The footstep grew louder, and a gloved hand reached down for you to grab. There was no time to see who the hand belonged to, as the dirt was up to your neck now. You felt yourself being pulled out of the dirt and placed on the ground.

“Thank you so m-” As you wiped the dirt from your eyes, you looked up to see a strange-looking clown, gripping a red balloon. You scrambled backwards, as the clown looked down sadly.

“You were all alone.” The clown’s voice was quite high and childlike, making you anxious.

“No one was around to save you. Your dad wasn’t here to save you.” You snapped your head up to look at the clown. Your father was a touchy subject.

“He wasn’t around to help you. But I’m sure you’re used to your dad being away.”

How did the clown know that? Your fathers distance from you was an unspoken thing, whether it was emotional or physical. It’s not that he didn’t love you - well maybe he didn’t, you didn’t know - it’s just that he wasn’t around much.

Whether it was because he was out on tour or he just didn’t want to see you, he was never there. That didn’t stop you from loving him. He was your dad, after all.

“He doesn’t care about you, but I’m sure you know that.”

“N-no, he cares about me. He just gets b-busy sometimes.”

The clown let out a creepy, squeaky laugh, which sent shivers down your spine. You had to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, this has been a great chat, truly, but I need to go home…” You found yourself trailing off, the clown’s words burning into your mind.

“And where is home? Y/N? Certainly not with your father. That was never your home. Your home is the circus.” The clown handed you the balloon, and you took it with shaking hands.

You turned, running away from the clown. As you left the barrens, the balloon popped, almost making you scream, but definitely making you jump. You regained your composure, running to the motel, the words “alone” and “doesn’t care” circling through your mind.

You shoved the door open, finding the six losers in the foyer, your dad pacing up and down the hall. All six of them looked up, and their faces melted into relief.

“Y/N, I called you so many times. Why didn’t you pick up?”

Patting your pocket, you discovered your phone wasn’t there. It must’ve fallen out during the clubhouse fiasco. You mentally cursed yourself. All the losers stared expectantly, clearly not paying you enough attention to figure out what had happened.

“I was so worr-”

“No, you fucking weren’t.” You said, harshly shoving past them all and running upstairs. The six adults stared at you, before looking at each other shocked.

You locked the motel room door behind you, but you could hear everyone talking downstairs.

“She’s just being a teen, Rich.” Beverly’s voice floated upstairs, making you scoff.

“She’s not usually like that… I’ve never seen her like that.”

You had been a fool, spending years trying to win over your dad. His job, drinking and other reckless activities had always taken first priority. You were just the leftovers of a drunk mistake.

Did you even hold any importance in your dad’s mind?

That fucking clown had been right.

You shoved all your clothes back into your suitcase, working quickly as you heard people coming up the stairs. You flung Richie’s bag open, finding his wallet. He wouldn’t notice $400 missing. He wouldn’t notice you missing.

The knock at the door made you tense up.

“Y/N, honey, please open the door.”

It wasn’t Richie, at least.

“Please, leave me alone right now.”

You faked a sad tone, adding a sniffle for extra effect. It was effective enough, as you heard Beverly walking away from the door.

You zipped the bag slowly, trying not to make noise. Luckily, the window was already open, and there was a balcony not too far below. You knew how to sneak out, having done it anytime Richie threw a party.

With only a minor stumble, you made it out, sneaking around the building without being spotted, thank god. You headed into town, hoping to grab some food before leaving Derry. You didn’t have a plan or a destination, but anywhere was better than L.A with Richie.

Walking onto the main road, you were surprised to find everything closed. Everything had been open just earlier today. Maybe Derry just had weird closing hours? Groaning, you realised you’d have to wait to get food after you left.

“There’s always food at the circus.”

“Fancy meeting you again.” You smiled at the clown. His voice was less offputting this time, but his laugh was still as uncomfortable to listen to.

“Come to the circus, Y/N. I’d love to have you for dinner.”

Thinking it over, you stepped forward, somewhat nervously. Something told you this might not be a good idea. Your paces quickened, and soon you were just a few steps away from the clown.

He reached out his arm, offering it to you. You eyed it nervously. But what could possibly go wrong? It was just a clown, after all.

“Take it.”

You didn’t hesitate, but your hand never reached his arm, as the world disappeared around you.

***

“Can I break the door down yet?” Richie sighed, sitting in Eddie’s room, the other Losers scattered around.

“She needs space. She almost died.” Ben placed a hand on Richie’s back, patting it twice. Richie shot up at his words.

“What do you mean she almost died?” He yelled, and Ben stepped back in surprise.

“She came in, covered in dirt. Like, a lot of dirt. So I went to the dirtiest place I know; the barrens.” The Losers listened in anticipation, Richie staring intensely.

“The clubhouse was destroyed. Filled with dirt. Her phone was sticking out of the dirt. She almost drowned in dirt.” He handed Richie the phone, and he clicked the home button. Your lockscreen was a photo of the two of you, at the zoo, the time he’d taken you for your birthday.

You were only a toddler back then, way before Richie had become the household name he was now. You were on his back, trying to feed a giraffe. Memories of that day flood back as he stares at the photo. He remembers when the giraffe had licked your face, making you giggle and smile widely.

He hadn’t seen you smile like that in years.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie left the room, turning your phone off and on again to look at that photo.

He reached his room, knocking softly. He didn’t expect you to open the door immediately and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear your voice. He definitely hadn’t expected the door to be unlocked. He pushed it open, calling your name softly.

Richie froze in his tracks.

NO ONE TO PROTECT HER

“Fuck. Guys!”

The Losers ran in, freezing as Richie had done. They read the words written in blood, all of their jaws dropping. Richie ran out of the room and down the stairs, the Losers following shortly behind.

He stopped at the door, spinning round to face the other five.

“Let’s kill this fucking clown.”

***

“Yeah, I dunno if this is what you call a circus, buddy.”

You complained, sitting cross-legged on the damp floor. You weren’t sure how long you’d been here, but you did know you had woken up in a puddle of water and you had not appreciated that one bit.

Trusting the clown was a dumb choice, but luckily no one but you would ever know you had willingly gone with it. Unless that shitheel of a clown told everyone.

“Usually, circuses have, like, a tent and popcorn or some shit. I don’t see any of that here. Just rocks, and water, and more rocks.”

You continued to yell to nothing. You wondered if that clown fucker could hear you. Probably.

“I understand if you’re on a budget, circuses don’t make that much money, but at least put some effort in. Would some lights be too expensive?”

Leaning against a rock, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, two seconds later, the fucking clown was there. He grabbed your throat with no hesitation, lifting you up effortlessly.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down! I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just a bit disappointed with your choice of decorations. It’s not very circus-y, for a clown, yknow.”

Maybe you should’ve shut up. But you were a Tozier, as much as you wished you weren’t, and talking was a gift.

“So, hey, how about you put me down and we can go over some design id-”

You froze in fear as the clown’s face seemed to unhinge itself, revealing rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Your eyes were drawn to the three spinning lights at the bottom of its throat.

You felt like you were dying.

***

The six Losers followed the path they had followed so many years ago. It was muscle memory for them. The greywater was still as disgusting as Eddie remembered, and he made as big of a deal as the others remembered him making.

“Cmon, we gotta head down here.”

Mike gestured to the trapdoor. He pulled the cover off, revealing a seemingly never-ending ladder. They climbed down one by one, Mike and Richie leading the charge. At the bottom of the ladder, the followed the cavern to an opening.

They all squeezed through the gap, finding the cavern of spikes. And at the centre of it all, you, floating as Beverly had done. Richie ran across the cavern, tripping over some of the rocks scattered everywhere.

“No, no, no. Guys! What do we do?” Richie was panicking, more than anyone had ever seen him. You were floating quite high, higher than Beverly had, but not as high as the other kids. Richie called Eddie over, yelling at him to get on his shoulders.

“Eddie, I can’t reach her on my own! Get up!”

Eddie complied, not wanting to see Richie like this any longer. He climbed on Richie’s shoulders, grabbing your ankle and dragging you down to their level.

Your glossed over eyes brought tears to Richies’. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid jobs and stupid parties and stupid ignorance.

“I’m so sorry Y/N…”

***

You walked into your home. God, it felt great to call it that. Your perfect tiny apartment with your dad.

“Afternoon, sweetheart. How was school?” Richie’s voice drifted in from the living room.

“It was actually pretty good. Steve and I got paired up for a project, so he’ll be coming over sometime in the near future.” You called back, hearing Richie get up from the couch. He appeared in the doorframe, raising one eyebrow.

“Steve, huh?” He smirked, leaving you red in the face.

“Yeah, you got a problem with him coming over?” You tried not to laugh, as did Richie.

“No, no, not at all,” He laughed. “Ok, no jokes, you know I don’t mind Steve coming over. I love the kid.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. It’ll ease his nerves about you.”

“He’s nervous about me? I’m the one who should be nervous. Steve’s gonna steal my little girl away.” Richie nudged your shoulder suggestively, making you gag and roll your eyes.

You headed to your room, passing Richie who was watching some trashy reality show. He gestured to a plate on the coffee table, a few slices of brownie sitting uneaten. You grabbed a slice, thanking your dad, before making it to your door.

You swung it open, reaching for the light switch, only to find nothing. You kept hitting the wall, hoping to hear that familiar click of the switch, but still nothing.

“Dad?” You yelled, running back to the living room. You screamed at the dark void staring back at you. The kitchen was gone, the bathrooms, everything. All gone, replaced with a black void.

But there, in the darkness, you could see it. Three spiralling lights, drawing you forward. You could reach out and touch them, and you felt your fingertips burning as they drew closer. You grabbed for them, only to have them disappear as you did so.

And just like that, it was dark again.

Your eyes flew open, gasping for breath. Looking around, you saw all the Losers staring at you, eyes wide in shock. Wrapped around you, hugging you, was your dad.

“Holy shit, Rich, it worked!” Eddie yelled as Richie looked you dead in the eyes.

“Y/N? Oh my fucking god, I thought I’d lost you!”

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t look your father in the eyes without tears springing to your own. He had been distant, sometimes cold, and not that great of a father, and yet here he was, saving you.

And you knew, in that moment, that he had always cared, and he would always care.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x daughter!reader #it #it x reader #it 2 #it 2 x reader #it chapter 2 #it chapter 2 x reader #the losers club #the losers club x reader #losers club #losers club x reader

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hourglasscinnarose · 5 years

Text

CLOWNS

Circus Clowns 1.) White Face What people normally think of when they hear the word "clown". White Face make up with Red/Black make-up over it. They're the ones that wear the ruffles and sometimes they wear a pointy hat. These guys are the "top banana", meaning that with other clowns, they're basically the main clown.

2.) Auguste/Red Clown They usually accompany White Face Clowns. These clowns are the ones who get stuff done to them [Pie in the face, squirted with water, sit in paint, ect.] These clowns start their make up with either red or flesh tones, then they go into outlining their eyes, mouths, and noses in Reds and Blacks. Their eyes and mouths are encircled with white beforehand. These clowns have the large plaids, long neck ties, big shoes, colorful polka dots and strips, and the big wigs.

3.) Character Character Clowns are clowns with a distinct character attached to them, like a firefighter, policemen, baker, ect. Their makeup is usually a slant on the human face, kind of like the Red Clown, though Character clowns may end up leaning more to White Clowns, themselves.

4.) Harlequin Though they used to be paired up with the Pierrot, they've been more so paired up with White Faced Clowns recently. [Hence why I'm putting them here instead of in the Pantomime section.] Harlequin Clowns are kind hearted, light hearted, nimble, and astute servants. [They usually end up pursing a love interest of some kind and are usually seen as more clever than the upper-people.] They sometimes are only there to make sure the plot flows rather than to make the plot, themselves. They usually wear colorful diamonds, squares, triangles, and, on occasion, things like stars and moons. Instead of makeup, they more so wear masks, though it's not unheard of seeing one with makeup rather than a mask.

Pantomime 1.) Mime Mimes act out stories without using their voice. Sometimes their stories are funny, other times they are very serious. They usually wear black tights and white face makeup, but contemporary mimes sometimes do not wear make up, just as they sometimes make small noises [like grunt] rather than staying completely silent. There's an entire other sub-genera centered around dance, but I don't believe they really "count" as being Mimes or even clowns.

2.) Pierrot A Pierrot is a sort of Sad Clown. These clowns only have white face with no other makeup, with loose shirt and wide buttons and big pants. Sometimes they'll wear a skull cap. Like Mimes, Pierrots tell stories, though they're often the butt of the jokes in comedies. Pierrots are sympathetic characters and are usually something the crowed can relate to.

Tramp Vs. Hobo [Though technically a type of character clown, they deserve their own spot.] 1.) Sad Tramp Tramps are clowns that are down on their luck. Things never seem to go well for them and they usually appear tattered and sometimes dirty, something against the rules of being a clown. [Other things include smoking as a clown, drinking as a clown, and cussing as a clown. Clowns are suppose to be clean and innocent.]

2.) Happy Hobo Hobos are in the exact same situation that Tramps are in, down on their luck, except they are much more optimistic about their situation. Their outfits will be almost identical to the Tramp Clowns: tattered, however their clothes will never really be dirty.

Other 1.) Rodeo Rodeo Clowns are clowns that work in bullfighting. It use to be [and in some, it still is this way, but] that protecting and comic relief were one in the same, but now a days, you'll usually find two Rodeo Clowns in the ring: one to protect the bullfighter if they are thrown off of if they get off the bull, and one to entertain the audience. These clowns put themselves in harms way quiet often to save the riders. They wear bright and lose cloths that is made to be easily torn away with protective gear underneath. They're usually speedy and agile. They also need to be able to read a bull's movement. [As a side note, most don't wear clown make up anymore, but some will.]

2.) Jester Jesters can do a variety of things and are usually personally hired for a family rather than act on stage or on the street. They can do anything, from story telling to juggling to physical comedy. But they're also very political, making political jokes and sometimes even acting on political movements. Some Jesters are used as icons in these moments. Jesters wear just about anything, though it's usually something like this:

3.) Pueblo/Sacred Clown These clowns aren't really to be put in a category, since they are literal clown spirits that people worship. They come from the Kachina regions are are practiced by the Pueblo Indians. These clowns are Jesters and Tricksters. There's an entire ritual dedicated to these spirits that happen during spring and winter. In order to be used in comedy, the clown's identity must be kept a secret. Instead of wearing face makeup, these clowns wear full body paint and a headdress. There's another variant called Mudheads, which use pinkish clay and wear cotton bags over their heads.

#Circus Clowns #Clowns #White Face #Red Clown #Auguste #Character Clowns #Harleqiun #Pantomime #Mime #Pierrot #Tramp Clown #Hobo Clown #Rodeo Clown #Jester #Pueblo Clown #Pueblo #Sacred Clown

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queenlists · 4 years

Text

Lovin’ Jimmy

A/N: 51 followers? Are you kidding me?! Thank you to every one of you! I really appreciate it. Thank you to everyone else also! I love that you all enjoy the stories. Thank you for all of the support. Requests are always open ;) Just saying haha. But, this is a small love story involving Jimmy Darling. There is a small modern twist to it. I hope you all enjoy! ✌

Post date: 12/3/2019

Jimmy Darling.

Also known as lobster boy.

Also known as the wife finger banger.

Also known as my best friend.

Also known as the love of my life.

“I have another party to go to today.” Jimmy groaned into the phone. “Well, I’m going to head over anyway. Probably pass the time with Dot and Bette. We can have our time when you get home.” I suggested, pacing around my room. “True. I’ll stop by the store on the way home.” “Sounds like a plan!” I giggled, biting my lip. “Can’t wait. I’ll text you when I’m done. Bye, beautiful.” I waited for the call to end before jumping around my room happily. Jimmy wasn’t exactly the type of boy you bring home to meet the parents. My mom is not a fan of him. He had a reputation, especially because of the housewives and their all but innocent get-togethers. Am I bothered about his side job? Yes and no. Yes because this is not what he wants to do. He wants to get away from his carnie life and lead a normal life. No, because it’s one of the only ways he knows how to make money without feeling uncomfortable and also because that’s exactly how WE met.

-----------

“Ladies, I hired lobster boy!” my mom’s boss squealed. The other ladies gasped in unison as my mom rolled her eyes, cleaning off the beautiful marble countertops. “What’s a lobster boy?” I whispered to my mom while unloading the dishwasher. “It’s not what, it’s a who and he is some boy from that old circus ground.” My mom shook her head in disapproval. “The old circus ground that has those freakshows?” I cocked an eyebrow at my mom. “Yup! That’s the one.” My mom rolled her eyes as the ladies continued to squeal. “He’s in the back room right now, but he is our grand finale...” My mom’s boss kept on talking, but the grand finale thing was the last thing I heard before I shut her out, allowing my curiosity to get the best of me. “Mom, I have to use the bathroom.” I muttered, quickly walking towards the back room. I peeked inside of every room until I spotted a room, dimly lit with candles. I slowly pushed the door open to see a man around my age, laying on the bed watching videos on his phone. Hearing the creak from the door, he jumped up and paused his video “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think we were starting early.” “No, you’re fine! They’re not starting early. I was just passing by.” I explained, biting my lip. Nothing seemed odd about him. Two eyes. Two dark, handsome eyes. One nose. One cute little nose. One delicious mouth. I felt myself lick at my lips as my eyes lingered on his soft lips longer than anticipated. Two hands. The hands. He hid his hands from my sight causing my eyes to snap towards his. “I’m sorry. I’ll get going now.” I apologized, quickly closing the bedroom door. I lightly banged my head against the door, kicking myself for stealing a glance.

The party went on as usual. The ladies gossiped as they went to the back room one by one coming out with a pep in their step, they swam, they snacked, and they left huge messes for my mom and I. I never usually came to these little parties, but this was the first time lobster boy was ever on the menu. As the ladies came and went out of the room, I felt my heart break. I couldn’t understand why I was feeling this way towards someone I embarrassed along with myself. Once the party was over and the mess was cleaned up, my mom and I headed to the local diner with the money we earned per usual. Before sitting down, I noticed him. He had on black mittens and he was nothing but smiles to the waitress. “(Y/n), I’m going to the bathroom.” My mom patted my shoulder, walking towards the bathroom, doing a quick glance at the boy. I knew how she felt about him. He’s all she talked about on the drive here:

“He’s no good”

“I’m so happy you didn’t meet him.”

“Never fall for a boy like that!”

“His mom oughta be ashamed!”

I bit my lip as I walked towards him, sitting down next to him. He looked at me as I looked at him. “I wasn’t staring.” I blurted out, looking in those deep brown eyes. “Yes, you were.” the man sipped on his coffee. “I really wasn’t!” I gasped defensively. “But, you really were.” he chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to!” I emphasized, trying, giggling along with him. I slid my hand onto his mitten covered hands, squeezing gently. He stared at my hand in his before looking back at me. “I really didn’t mean to stare.” I sincerely smiled at him before getting up to find a booth for my mom and I. He got up, stopping me “My name’s Jimmy. Jimmy Darling.” “I’m (Y/n)!” I beamed, walking away.

Throughout our late lunch, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Jimmy nor could he keep his eyes off of me. My mom had taken notice of my eyes glued behind her and turned around. Jimmy snapped his attention elsewhere when his eyes met my mom’s. My mom snapped her attention to me before taking a deep breath, sitting her cup of tea down “I really hope you’re not making those eyes at that boy!” “Mom-” “I said what I said about that boy! Stay away. He’s only good for knocking girls up and leaving them just like every other man!” my mom huffed, looking out the window. My mom didn’t have great luck with men. My father left a bitter taste in her mouth and left her heart broken even years after. I took her bitterness with a grain of salt, shooting Jimmy a quick apologetic look. Jimmy winked at me, smiling. I melted right there, biting my lip before quickly looking to my plate as my mother looked back at me. The rest of our meal was silent. Painfully silent. “You ready to go?” I nodded at my mom’s question as we gathered our stuff. My mom slid the waitress the money along with a tip as I quickly slid Jimmy my number mouthing a quick “Call me”, walking out of the dinner. Before I could even get into the car, I had a text from an unknown number:

“Hey, beautiful. It’s Jimmy.”

---------

My days were spent sneaking out while my mom was asleep or at work to get onto Jimmy’s motorcycle or to hop into the family car to head to the carnival grounds that he lived at. The first few times were nerve-wracking and I always looked over my shoulder, but now I couldn’t care less if I was caught or not! Everyone at the carnival greeted me with kindness and respect. I found them to become great friends within minutes especially Bette and Dot. The tenth day I was over, it got dark really fast and a clown epidemic was happening, so my mom advised that wherever I was I needed to stay. The only time her fear worked in my favor. “My mom is scared of the whole clown situation that is all over social media. Apparently, a clown was spotted here. She wants me to stay wherever I am, so can I stay the night?” I looked over to Ethel who was brushing out her beard. “Of course! I read the same thing on the face of the books. I don’t want you kids getting into any trouble though. Door open, Jimmy!” Ethel warned. Jimmy smirked “It will stay open, but I don’t think you want it to. Might see something you don’t want to.” Jimmy joked, laughing loudly. Ethel gave Jimmy a look that wiped his smirk right off “Ma, I was joking.” Ethel rolled her eyes, continuing to tend to her beard. That sleepover was the first of many. We did everything together. Woke up together, ate together, hit the town together, showered together (on odd occasions), and slept together (not in that way!). When I had to make an appearance at home, we were constantly texting or on the phone with one another. We were stuck on each other. Like the best of friends were.

------

“Jimmy and I...we’re just friends.” I explained to Bette and Dot, trying to not make eye contact with the twins. “Oh, if you and Jimmy are just friends then Bette and I are second cousins!” Dot rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance. “Well, I think you and Jimmy would make a fine pair!” Bette smiled at me, rubbing my hand gently. I sighed in relief as I hugged my two best friends. “Oh for goodness sake, (Y/n)!” Dot huffed. “You should let him know how you feel. The way you two get along. The way you two smile at each other. The way you two talk about each other when the other isn’t around. It’s all the beginning of a beautiful love story.” Bette sighed, smiling. “Wait, he talks about me?” My eyebrows knit together as I look between Bette and Dot. Dot smirked and looked away while Bette smiled, looking down.

I heard the crunching of gravel behind me “Hey ladies! Three of my favorite ladies at that.” I immediately got up, facing Jimmy. Jimmy winked at me before a wave of concern washed over his face “(Y/n)? You okay?” “You talk about me?” “I...I talk about everyone?” Jimmy shook his head in confusion. “You talk about me to people like I talk about you?” I questioned, my eyes searching his, my heart racing. Jimmy looked behind me to Bette and Dot for an explanation before he looked back at me still confused “(Y/n), I’m sorry, but I don’t know what-” “I’m in love with you!” I blurted out, interrupting Jimmy. “Oh my. It’s happening!” Bette gasped out loud. “Shut it, Bette.” Dot hissed. Jimmy’s mouth and eyes were wide open as he dropped the plastic grocery bags on the ground. He stood there frozen in place. Not a sound. “Say something!” I cried out, feeling the thick tension starting to suffocate me. Jimmy remained frozen in place. Frozen in time. My cry attracted more attention than I had hoped for. “Jimmy!” Dot hissed. I took a deep breath before pushing past Jimmy who grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. Our eyes connected, staring in each other’s eyes. Our chests heaving as our adrenaline wildly pumped through our bodies. Jimmy kissed me. The kind of kiss that closed everyone out. The kind of kiss that erased everything from your mind. The kind of kiss that was once in a lifetime. The kind of kiss that can’t be faked. The kiss of love. A kiss straight from a love story.

I don’t know how long we were wrapped in each other. All I knew was that I felt like I was spinning above the ground. His soft lips dancing with mine. His hands fit perfectly against my waist. Nothing mattered at that moment except for us. Nothing existed at that moment, but us. Jimmy pulled away slowly, his eyes still stuck on mine “I love you too, (Y/n).” My thoughts were interrupted by applause. I buried my face in Jimmy’s chest, hiding my embarrassment from the crowd of people that I forgot were there. “It was just like a movie!” Bette exclaimed.

-----

Jimmy and I have been together for half a year. Six months. Our relationship was still new. Still fragile. We didn’t have time for new challenges. I bit my lip, feeling the weight of the world just resting on my shoulders. Pacing. I couldn’t stop pacing. “Freaking out won’t make the test negative! Calm down!” Dot yelled. “Don’t yell at her now, Dot. It’s a life-changing moment. Even if it’s positive, everything will be just fine.” Bette smiled, trying to console me. The timer on my phone went off as I started walking closer to the plastic test, glancing to the twins before picking it up. “Oh now, would you just look at the test! Save the dramatic pauses for later!” Dot yelled, rolling her eyes and waving me to speed it up. ‘Shut up, Dot!” I hissed quietly, looking at the test. Plus sign. Positive. I’m pregnant. I felt nauseous. I felt faint. I felt everything, but happy. Jimmy didn’t want kids. He was scared that they would be “cursed” with the hands. I dropped the test on the twins’ lap before collapsing on the couch beside them in tears. “Listen, Jimmy won’t be mad over this.” Dot patted my hand gently as Bette stared at the test, tears running down her face as she smiled.

----------

“You’re what?!” Jimmy yelled, frantically pacing back and forth. “Pregnant.” I muttered. “No.” Jimmy shook his head, sniffling. “Yes. I’m pregnant.” I sighed. Jimmy looked at the test before sitting on the couch in tears. I sat on his lap, kissing away his tears “It’ll be okay.” “What if the baby has the hands?” Jimmy sobbed, holding onto me. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world.” I smiled at him. “I’m going to be a dad.” Jimmy laughed out. Jimmy gently pushed me to the side and ran out of the tent yelling “I’m going to be a dad!” I followed him, laughing until I spotted Ethel hand in hand with my mother. They both looked from Jimmy to me with their mouths wide open “He’s going to be a what?”

#jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x y/n #jimmy darling x you #ahs imagine #ahs fanfic #american horror story imagine #american horror story fanfic #american horror story fanfiction #american horror story jimmy darling #ahs jimmy darling #ahs freakshow #evan peters characters #fanfic #ahs fandom #american horror story fandom #american horror story freakshow

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unikornu · 4 years

Note

Alright! Finally got time again to shoot you some questions for the ask meme. For Lucy: A1, 2, 9, 14, 24. B1, 13, 16. C3, 4, 6. D2, 3. E2, 4. F2, 5, 10. G2. H1, 6, 8. I1. L2, 4, 9. Also for Harrison, finally someone who can use the K questions... K1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10?

Hell yeah long post coming and i’m so happy with the K section,

Lucy:

A1. What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…

I actually took a test thinking how she would answer and i think i got it perfectly right. I wouldn’t pick it better just by reading all of them i think. She came out as Turbulent Entrepreneur (ESTP-T) which feels ok. “ Rules were made to be broken” - hell they were. Also “ If Entrepreneurs aren’t careful though, they may get too caught in the moment, take things too far, and run roughshod over more sensitive people, or forget to take care of their own health and safety.“

Judging by her action and the way of living she is like that. Going all the way, having hard time just by staying idle and ohh yee taking things too far without thinking of consequences. Like chasing an enemy and realizing she left her support far in the back and then dealing with difficulties by herself. Constantly going careless in combat, forgetting her own safety, thinking she will make it anyway but it comes back biting her in the ass.

Also she is not smart but she can see minor hidden things, be it while cracking some password on terminal or spotting who in the crowd wants to stab her in the back just by the change of their face expression so she might be stupid but still outsmart some folks and mechanics out there and that fits with the nature of the job she had before the war.

A2. What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…

I never played DnD games and so on so this one is hard but Neutral Evil - she is aware of her being on the bad side of a coin and is willing to do whatever it takes to make her wishes come true even if it means killing someone but she still have some self restrains and won’t go against the allies she is currently working with and friends she made on the way and of course innocent creatures. She has some base etiquette rules and isn't rotten to the bone but when she wants something nothing will stop her no matter the cost as long as it doesn’t strike her out of the game of harms current company. She is bad but not for sake of doing evil shit or proving something but just to do what she wants and get what she wants even if blood will spill.

A9. Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?

She will sure make a lot of excuses for herself after fucking shit up or going way too ahead in combat. But only for herself. She is the type of pointing finger at others while tugging and biting her tongue just not to admit she wronged someone or something and avoid too many questions or yelling at.

A14. Is your character empathetic?

Despite being a bitch she is empathetic. But might show it a bit differently...like in a page i wrote for Halloween with that bunny mask. She didn’t chop that man only because he grabbed her ass but because he was using many other women poor financial situation just to have some easy sexy time and she did feel bad for them so...her empathy stroke in a solution of killing him instead of only knocking him out and caging. If someone would harass Lizzie or...i dunno Hector, someone she considers slightly weaker at standing up for themselves and is in her “social” circle or society part then she will show empathy by stabbing those who bother them with a fork in a eye, a bit extreme but that’s how she understands empathy. Someone is chaining and kicking a dog at settlement? She will chain that man onto the bridge and let him hang and die slowly and take a dog in Pack care. Gage complains that his gun got broken in a fight and can sense some sadness, she will run for a stealing caps heist to buy new one. So...she feels empathy but her answer to it can be...well unusual, brutal and extreme.

A24. What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

Type of question i hope i understood correctly :))

Fear of failing to deliver is her biggest personal obstacle. She was always scared, since childhood to fail at meeting certain expectations, be in it school for her mother who would change her mind bazillion times due to mental illness, then Harrison and fear of his eventual punishment mixed with mental abuse if she doesn’t carry her mission to the end, with Ian it was fear of failing at being the good loving partner due to her secrets and then comes whole town of raiders with Gage on top who have expectations of her and promise of certain small paradise if she delivers but...these fears always pushes her into actions more than she has to and it exhaust her mentally and can sometimes prove deadly, ending up in injuries that could have been avoided. She is aware of this but because it carried through her whole life its unavoidable.

Also she doesn’t interact much with a friendly society groups because even if she knows she is bad its not something she actually likes to hear. Coming to a small town just with intentions to have a drink and imagining that people will only show her a pistol barrel and tell her to fuck off because she is from within raider circle fills her with doubt so strong she just tends to avoid this kind of meetings.

How was the saying: “Don't tell a psychopath they're a psychopath, it upsets them” and she will get deeply upset.

B1. Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Get respect to give it. She doesn’t trust that people will respect her back if she puts effort so she won’t show respect even to great president of whatever wastes because she also doesn’t care if someone respect her but if they pull a hand out first she will shake it back. Her life is too risky and careless to think about gaining someone’s respect first.

B13. Do they have a large or small group of friends?

If she would consider all nuka town her friends then its big but...nope, small group. Its mostly Gage (even if they are partners they can be friends too), Lizzie, William, well...Mags too and along with that Mason later on once she gets his loyality and a few traders from which she keep connections with Maddox, Chip and Shelbie. From Far Harbor for sure Allan would be easy to gain as a friend. Longfellow is just a friend grandad <3. Harrison cannot be questioned, too scary to reject him. From Commonwealth i can’t yet get idea where she could get the best friend circle. Well aside from that whatever other oc’s out there who accept her bitchiness and way of being :)) but i don’t think she would make many friends out there, she is...well plain simple and dangerous.

B16. Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?

Definitely in the center of attention, since she couldn’t be back then. Now that crime and killing is fully legal and there is no police chase other than some disgusted by her behavior minutemen she can be a in the center of a show and she likes it. A circus ring leader, hell yeah...well raiders can be clowns too from time to time. And let’s not start with parties and free time. She’s the first to get up on table to dance. It gets her a bit to realize things she can get away with but once she does she only misses there is no spotlight at the end of the fight, shining on her.

C3. Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

Major indeloghit....tents what? Good lord, i swear i’m too stupid for these kind of words but good i keep the dictionary close to me, right in the next tab.

Big yes. It’s not many people like her out there and she doesn’t want to flip her coin back to being good and peaceful towards rules of the world, she simply isn’t able to mentally change back anymore so in order to keep feeling like she still has a hole to belong to she needs to spend time with people like her to also boost her confidence that she isn’t the only one with broken mind out there seeking completion of her wishes through darker path. And knowing so isn’t leaving her in fear she will need to change her ways of life.

C4. Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

No. Even is she is the Overboss she rather rejects that title and prefers to be just a business partner with Gage. She doesn’t seek and need to feel important or superior, she only wants to feel useful around people she decided to blend in with and have a purpose, nothing else. The fact that she can strike orders around doesn’t fill her heart nor mind with some higher importance or value above other. Also she doesn’t considers her enemies lesser even knowing her skills, its just bad approach that can easily get one killed and she prefers stays on a same line with others. Be it friends or foes.

C6. What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?

Depends in what state that person is, she was the liar herself so she can spot one if its an actual person in need or just lazy poor soul. She will usually tho just toss a few caps and walk away without listening or hearing more from that person. She doesn’t want to struggle with a morality remaining deep in her brain if she did right or not so she will just deal with it fast and walk away, telling them to fuck off if they will follow her. These kind of people are like those annoying reminders in a shape of beggar poking her and making think if she still has some pure humanity left so...she wants to be just done with that part. But animal coming up to her is a different deal, here humanity will always strike unless its a seagull stealing her meal, then her humanity part will shrink and there will be a rock thrown in the air after that birb, as a survival contest.

D2. Do they believe in an afterlife?

She never gave it a longer thought. She cares about here and now but if she would meet someone knowledgeable in that topic she would be willing to open her ears for few minutes longer and put the knife down. She doesn’t rejects religious topics as long as someone is not brushing a saint books or whatever right in her face. She has an open mind on more than just a mortal topics mostly because of Harrison.

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

She wasn’t scared of death before the bombs and when wandering through wasteland because she just didn’t care for her life and maybe that’s what made her most effective but this changed once she realized she can finally live a life she secretly wanted but was restricted before. Her strong desire of finally rejecting the dying part is what caused certain being to finally break away from her ;> well i wrote about it in last page so yassss

E2. Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

The strongest is surely the Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence, she was trained to the bone and with her careless nature she is mostly depended on her physical skills and putting them into perfect timing. Even if she got a bit rusty after bombs the return of Harrison will bring her back into the right gears of phasing like speed and combat thinking.

Weakest could be probably the Intra-personal Intelligence mostly because even if she understand her actions she isn’t very good at analyzing it any deeper other than “i want that man’s money cus i want that”, i guess....i could describe it like that. I cant really get any deeper or more detailed into this because there is for sure one thing i share with Lucy....we are simple minded simpletons but..i might be a bigger one :)))

E4. Did they enjoy school if they went to it?

At the beginning she didn’t enjoy any school as other students would consider her a weirdo because of her mother which would sometimes show up, uncalled at school and act really weird but later when she decided to stand up for herself after meeting Harrison as a kid ....others in school didn’t enjoy that change as much as she became seen as a pretty bully girl being overly extreme into serving “justice”. The only classes she enjoyed tho were gym and biology ones as she wasn’t scared to cut a frog but others seeing her just chopping it like a piece of ham could...weighted on her reputation. Also she always joined like a sport/cheerleader groups to have less problems with teachers as it was bringing school good reputation and she was fairly flexible and with high stamina so it was also easy for her. So from being bullied she became popular bully girl of sort. She got hooked on law later on because she wanted indeed to serve some justice, in a peaceful manner at start. So all in all she didn’t enjoy school at start but then she didn’t mind it as she took business in her hands, a bit over the edge but well...bully with some feelings eh? I don’t have many details as to what exact type of school she would go but another reason she would enjoy sitting at school once she became the one in charge is to spend less time at home with her confusing mother so she would be staying late for some extra gym trainings, sweating her emotions off.

F2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

In Porter’s rough, dirty yet soft heart stuffed in his sweaty smelly top.

She can call Fizztop an ideal home of sort. The weather in Nuka World strikes her preferences and even since she was strolling with Harrison from time to time there before the war she just loved that place and beside the first deadly visit there they made a good memories there, father and daughter like. She prefers her home to be placed inside the town as she hates sleeping in open spaces even if its a single house on top of a hill. She just feels too lonely and insecure. It’s weird to say that but she feels safer to sleep in a town filled with raiders than alone in the wild.

F5. How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Fairly handy but on a level of fixing a broken car mirror with a duck tape or just gluing shit together hoping it will hold long enough before it breaks again. If she would fix a door handle it would most probably end up upside down on the other side of the door. And if shit breaks again...she will just shrug and glue it same way again or at least add one more layer of duck tape. Sometimes she will try to convince herself she knows what wire to put where when it comes to electric appliances but she only knows cars and car still ain’t a toaster so....electric shortage and fizzy hair incoming. She needed a manual on shoving a cable inside a robot so yeah. But when it comes to fixing clothes she is as good as with cars. Even if some parts can be similar like in car engine of sort she still has hard time to connect the dots if seeing something like half similar. So give her a broken car/truck/any clothing she will swing a wrench or needle and fix that shit in no time but hand her a tv pilot or spoken toaster and she will just look at it and ponder..deeply.

F10. Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

Arts...with her only painting comes to my mind but not like painting a landscape but more things like a car painting, pack faces and more abstract stuff which she learned again in Sapphire club with Rosey due to many events that were having certain themes so they needed to do body paints and so on.

I don’t know if dancing is any kind of art but i can imagine her discovering that pole dance but on a level of these sport like competitions. Lucy is flexible and has enough strength to try to perform this kind of stuff since from already school times she was doing a lot of gym and sport in general.

As to how good she would be at these probably not like perfectly good to very details because even she doesn’t have need to be horribly good. Needs to be good enough to just make her happy and she doesn’t have high standards in these topics. I dunno why i found that question slightly tricky....

G2. Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

The only family she had was her mother since her father left once he could no longer bear with her mental issues and bringing stranger men to house and then getting pregnant with her. I didn’t build up yet like a bigger family tree but..yeah it was just her mother and her most of the time.

H1. What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?

She is 100% heterosexual when it comes to her orientation both romantic and sexual. She can flirt with same sex but that would only include situations when she needs to finish her job or reach some other goal, no feelings involved whatsoever.

H6. Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?

She didn’t catch Ian neither Gage to cheat on her. She tends to flirt with other men like William but wouldn’t take it as far as to sleep with him or do it on purpose to hurt her partner feelings so...she doesn’t cheat. She still has SOME backbone.

H8. What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

She doesn’t have high needs when it comes to perfect date topic. As long as it involves alone time together without additional crowd and some beer she doesn’t care if they sit in a fancy bar or on some building stairs. Perfect date is any that includes relaxed talk, joking, alcohol and a happy ending in bed together. Extra points for bringing her nicely cut flower. Despite being bully, killer and involved with raiders she was looking at late evenings at these white/grey romantic movies where couples were just doing simple things, walking late night together and so on, so her perfect date ain’t complicated.

I1. What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?

As long as its not slimey and gooey like she’s okay. If something of mentioned above would slip into her food she will just puke it out instantly. She prefers salty and sweet tho as her pre-war diet was mostly like so. Salted hard boiled eggs with grilled tatos topped with pinch of salt again and then 200 years old cotton candy for dessert or potato crisps. She eats meat too but like fried till its crunchy.

L2. What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Brain error so i hope i understood this right:

Leaning into the evil side of the society fully confident it’s the only and last right choice to achieve true happiness and satisfy the already croocked mind.

L4. Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

In my real life probably yes but even i would be slightly nervous around her because she tends to bend towards very extreme solutions if some problems would arise or someone would make me angry (due to her empathy) but in fallout universe hell yeah, i’m just not sure i would be in a physical capability to keep up with her but i wouldn’t mind to get a legendary cane..along with it...But yeah, i would like to hang out for a beer and see her beat some stupid folks and maybe give a her a friendly hug to remind her she isn’t that bad and she will be fine....and apologize for burning her hands lol. If she would find out i’m her creator..oh boy, i’m sure she would beat me with my own cane over the head.

L9. How did you come up with your OC?

I had different OC design before but she was actually just a general good joking hero, she even had a brother but that got lost later on and that male oc was left just for MMO’s as an additional character. Then a lot of things happened in my life and because i was gaming since early childhood like Norton times and..the pixelated Blizzard Blackthorne it also affected my rpg and game choices in general, like whole way of thinking since gaming was and is big part of my life. I was curious what would happen if i take my oc through the mental change grinder and push it to the edge, towards losing the patience for justice systems and add a pinch of evil mixed with some trauma to give her some reason to choose that path. And there she is. Her face features didn’t change much, neither body type and so on but her mentality is hell of a different and i just...love her. She isn’t perfect, neither that horribly bad but i’m very pleased with how she came out. I threw a glove and was done with playing hero at some point because of life experiences and she came out of my cauldron as a best way to peacefully calm down. As for Harrison he was suppose to be just a small mention in pre-war diary but for some reason my brain pushed it forward and i really don’t mind him as an extra OC. Besides Lucy needs someone to watch over her.

Allllrighty, Harrison time:

K1. Does your OC have to keep their paranormal aspect (PA) a secret from general society? If so, how? I.e., they can’t discuss their abilities, they have to hide a tail, they have an alter-ego, et cetera. What would happen if society found out about it?

Yes, he has to hide his powers. He is one of a kind and experiment never got finished so his powers are something no one seen before. I’m sure that lab is still buried somewhere near Sanctuary deep in forests containing old data and so on but the place got abandoned and no one found it yet. I can imagine tho that the cryo vault could have been like a last remaining section cut off from the rest as it also was touching a subject of immortality...i mean..a way of not aging. Usually the green smoke will always rise from his body and eyes at times so he prefers to hide his face under the hat and keep fully covered body with that long brown coat and thick gloves. Also he doesn’t look very friendly so it helps him keep folks at distance before they notice something unusual. I can’t imagine how people would react if they knew about his powers but they for sure would be just wary and scared i think. And all in all he has a synth skeleton so more hate from most of the Commonwealth population. He also needs to keep his emotions at check as his powers are driven by a strong sense of desire so if he would really really want to harm someone he would have harder time at controlling his powers before they snap. That’s why he is always so...stoic and calm.

K3. Does your OC have any friends who know about their PA? Any enemies?

Lucy suspected before and she has a memory from childhood, then she finds out herself on a go and Gage also knows because he was present during the event. Later on she tells Lizzie and Chip Morse because she needs help to repair his synth broken body due to how the...separation came out. Harrison doesn’t tell anyone else unless its necessary. The only enemy out there would be the lead scientist if he somehow survived the bombs and is still out there, looking for him.

Also...i didn’t mean to make it like that but its just how it came out due to most...common and fast thought design. That lead scientist had grey hair and wore a black mask on half of his face....and that would make the air even more rotten between...someone particular out there :))

K5. Does your OC feel isolated or unrelatable due to the experience their PA brings with it? If so, how do they deal with it?

He does feel lonely since he is too afraid to meet new people or even spend too much time in a bar. He would mostly stick to lone table in a corner, being too afraid on not controlling his powers if his mind and emotions lose breaks. He was a family man, not perfect father but still, getting that taken away and changing your life 180 degrees can sometimes upset him and the only way to cool down is just to stick to people he can trust which is Lucy and her gang. Its his only family now. He doesn’t push away the idea of trying again, meeting a woman, making a family, being a better father but is just too scared of that. Also he doesn’t need much sleep as normal person so...this doesn’t help him either.

K6. Does their PA cause issues in daily life? I.e., if they’re inhuman in a human universe and they can’t go to a doctor or risk the doctor realizing they are not human, super abilities with physical drawbacks, they don’t have control of their abilities and must keep to themselves, et cetera… If so, how do they feel about it?

It causes him a lot of issues. Despite hot weather he still needs to keep his clothes on to not reveal the power radiating from him. His hat always in crowds, even inside the buildings to not risk shining with his eyes too much. Shades can help tho at times. But people might find it weird, accuse him of being another synth and attack him and that would cause more problems because if he snaps people will see his powers. He needs to keep his head low all the time and just act as a shady dangerous mercenary, out of unnecessary questions and troubles.

K7.Does your OC’s PA affect their dietary habits so that they are unusual or problematic by their society’s standards?

Even if he actually doesn’t need to eat he still will because he isn’t fully synth but just himself in a form of soul trapped in such a body. His eating habits are still the same as they were but..he might overdo his craving at times...eating like a kilograms of food just because he remembered it was his favorite and he wants it now and he will feel the taste and satisfaction but because his stomach isn’t human he doesn’t feel when he is full so....yeah. Eating whole cart of cotton candy at one go. It might feel weird to people who don’t know him but he is a big man so they might assume it’s maybe because of his size...and just being freaking hungry.

K8. What are some routines, if any, of self-care that your OC must engage in that are not typical of their society? I.e., having to file their teeth, maintaining magical rituals, drinking blood…

He needs to meditate like a lot to keep his powers better contained and controlled since they sync with his mindset.. Sometimes he will do it for hours, be it standing, siting, he will just disconnect and meditate.

K9. Does your OC have knowledge that they can’t share with the rest of their world that could improve it if it didn’t cause chaos? I.e., a character from the future knowing about technology not yet invented, but they can’t reveal themselves by sharing it

He is the only one knowing the location of the lab but he keeps that knowledge only to Lucy. He can’t imagine what could happen if they would create armies of....entities like him. Being able to inject soul from body to body could solve a lot of health like issues and give a hell of disabled people new chance but you can never know what direction this could go.

K10. Would your OC give up their PA if they could? Why or why not?

Even if it ruined his life he wouldn’t give it up. He lost his family not because of who she became but because he was fucking irresponsible by taking his son to work and killing them both. His wife was furious and refused to take him home again even if she was freshly pregnant that time. His powers allowed him to protect her anyway without her knowledge and because he is at age he is, these powers still keep him as a extremely dangerous man able to fight. Even if giving it up could give him a better chance of starting a family again he prefers to be able to protect these that are still left in his life than failing or die trying. So he is over the grief and learned to live with how he is, accepting his powers and putting them to good use.

#rockshortage #fallout #ask meme #lucy feit #harrison #hell yeah i did it #not everything is very detailed but i think i again got all of dem right #and oh boy i was happy with that K section #if anything still needs details you can poke me bout them #thank you!#it kept me busy and happy after work

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spooky-raccoon · 4 years

Text

Road Trip (Part 12)

Holy crap, part 12. Never thought it’d get this far to be honest.

Part 12 of Road Trip.

Rufo X Female Reader

Bold is Rufo’s Perspective!

Tag List: @lifesbigmistery @booklover2929 @the-clown-crypt @chii2blog

The doctors couldn’t pinpoint the issue and I knew they wouldn’t. The medical world had advanced greatly but no one liked to acknowledge or knew how real the magic around them was. Magic was tricky to diagnose to begin with. Even trickier to fix if you could find the right magic used. With what Crowley had planned to use on me though, I knew I needed to get to her to Albert as soon as I could. With our games I knew he would want to use something painful and brutal. And she got the full force of it, somehow making it through. Mostly. I was feeling antsy as the doctor’s wanted to monitor for a few days. That wouldn’t do at all. I didn’t have that time to waste. I ended up taking her out during the dead of night.

I made her as comfortable as I possibly could in the back seat. Thankfully, she had packed plenty of blankets and pillows for when she would have gone camping. It was almost like a nest in the back seat. Her eyes were open, and she was blinking slowly. Not a word came out of her as she looked at me. Or at least I tried to think she was looking at me. Her eyes weren’t really looking into anything if I was being honest to myself, but I didn’t want to be.

“We got a long drive doll.” I reached to cup her cheek after putting a blanket over her to keep her warm. Her skin was so cold. “I’m gonna get you to someone who can actually help you. He’s an odd fella but you’re probably used to that by now.”

I wanted to hear her chuckle. I wanted to see that smile on her face. The one that she would scrunch up her nose followed by her cheeks getting that hint of blood to them. I wanted to see her eyes sparkle like stars that lit up the night sky. But there was nothing. Just a blank stare as she stared at the roof of the car. With a heavy sigh I tucked the blanket in around her and climbed into the driver seat.

It was a long drive indeed. Once in a while we would stop for bathroom breaks. She couldn’t exactly tell me when she needed something, but I did my best at guessing which somehow managed. When I put food in her mouth she would naturally chew it and get it down just fine. That night when I got us checked in a hotel I made sure to get her cleaned up and she was much like a puppet in my hand as I maneuvered her. Even when I got her into bed she was much like a large doll. So lifeless but I knew that wasn’t her. She was still in there somewhere and I was gonna get her back out of there. When I could tell she was asleep I let myself finally get some rest.

The drive was quiet. Even the music that I played felt more like empty silence. I had the rear mirror pointed down to look at her so I could make sure she was alright from time to time, especially the closer we got to Salem. I hated the silence. Not even turning up the music helped. Now, I admit I’m not one to go over the speed limit, but I admit I may have head a lead foot here and there.

I was at Albert’s sooner than I expected which put a temporary grin on my face. Then I looked to (Y/N) in the back seat and that smile quickly dropped. I pulled up to his home and carried her toward his house. I never got a chance to tell him I was on my way and I knew he wouldn’t care too much. He would just give me some extra work for the hassle I was about to bring him, but I could handle that just fine. I kicked on the door since my hands were full. It didn’t take long for the almost large middle-aged man to answer the door. Albert looked like a middle-aged modern-day trucker. Friendly even. Especially in the eyes and when he gave a smile. But only a fool would think that. He could vaporize someone if he so choose to do. Wasn’t a pretty sight. He was rather confused as he saw the woman in my arms, but he let me in, nonetheless.

I explained the best I could what happened, leaving out the more juicy bits. He didn’t need to know nor really cared for much of my personal affairs. Though I could tell he had a few questions. Albert and I had known each other for a long time. After all, he was the one who got me my new body and the new life I had after breaking out of Hell a few times. We had a pretty good bond I would say though we kept it more business.

I laid (Y/N) down on the couch where Albert started to look her over. He did what was like testing her vitals before going to one of his many bookshelves to look over for a specific book. It didn’t take long for him to find the one he wanted, and he began to thumb through it.

“So, what is it Albert?” It was hard to not pace back and forth so I decided to just have my hands behind my back, so he didn’t have to see how they fidgeted.

“A type of banishing magic. A strong one too. You got lucky Cecil.” He looked to me as he said my name. Well, my name when I was a normal human. Before the burning and everything that followed suite.

“Can you help her?” My brow raised, the concern in my voice finally breaking through. It wasn’t a side Albert had seen before and I wasn’t sure how well I liked him seeing it.

“Yes, though you’ll need to give me a few days to get some things ready. Of course, you know the deal for these favors of yours.” Albert gently placed a blanket over (Y/N) who didn’t even make any notion to move or settle into it.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll get the work done, you know that.” I went over to (Y/N) so I could at least be by her side now that Albert wasn’t there.

“Feel free to take her to the guest room so she’s more comfortable. I want her and you to stay close by.”

All I did was nod and scoop her up in my arms, taking her down the hallway to one of the spare guest rooms. She would look more peaceful now that she was in a bed and tucked in. I even made sure to fluff the pillows like she had done to the ones in the hotels we stayed at. I could feel Albert’s eyes on me behind me. I ignored him for just a moment so I could look at her a little longer before following him back to the living room.

“Tell me Cecil, what makes her so special? You’re not the one for company.” Albert sat down in his armchair that looked lovingly worn. I took a spot on the couch.

“Silly to say but started with music taste. Just a loan gas station and I was gonna just take the car to get to the job. Though I heard the music she was playing.” The corner of my lip finally pulled up to a smile. It almost felt wrong, but I smiled anyway. “Dream Lover by Bobby Darin and she was dancing a little in her seat while singing along.” I furrowed my brow as I pushed the memory to the side and let the smile drop. “I meant to leave after the first night of riding with her. But the more we talked and getting to know each other, I stayed. I stayed even when Crowley showed up at a diner we stopped at. Then, she stayed after finding out who and what I was. I could see the look in her eyes that she wanted to run out the door, but she took a chance.” My hands balled up and my knuckles were starting to turn white then crack to reveal the titanium white skin underneath. “I should have left sooner so she was safe.”

“Calm down my boy. We all do things for those we care for. Sometimes not the smartest but was she ever miserable in your company?”

“No. No she wasn’t. She was smiling and there was a sparkle in her eyes whenever she looked at me.” I could feel a strange sensation in my chest that made me furrow my brows once more. “And she was the one to make the first moves. Even when I gave her warnings.”

“I think you have the answer you’re looking for than Cecil.” There was a bit of a smile on Albert’s face.

“I didn’t even know I had a question.”

“Most of us don’t when we know it’s right. And I know that look on your face when you stare at her. I was there once myself.”

I sat in silence before nodding. My hands relaxed and the skin on my cracked knuckles rejoined together. Albert got up from his chair, grabbing (Y/N)’s phone and making sure anyone who was worried about her would be eased and just think her vacation had extended. He then left to his office, leaving me to the silence of the living room. I didn’t like it. So I rose from my seat and crept into the room (Y/N) was laid down. I kicked off my shoes, tossing my jacket onto the back of a bed post, and laid down beside her. One arm draped over her chest and my chin rested on the top of her head.

Then I quietly whispered to her the fun things we would do once she was better. I’d take her to a real circus. To Coney Island to show her the rich history of the circus life. I would take her out to all the places she’d want to eat and get her little gifts along the way. Whatever she wanted. I’d give her all the flowers to make a valley jealous. We’d camp at all the places she wanted to go before this all happened and then some. I didn’t know if she could hear me, but I hope she was excited as I was despite the aching numbness in my chest.

#rufo #rufo the clown #more love for rufo #albert miles #serenity falls #serenity falls spoilers #road trip part 12 #rufo: road trip part 12 #rufo the clown: road trip part 12 #smile no more #one bad week #i love me some good sap #and pain #thank you all for the patience #ive been getting back into writing again to help distract me #and its helping a lot

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elizadoolittlethings · 5 years

Quote

Rupert Graves: 'If I need cash I'll do anything, I don't really care'

Telegraph

The twinkly-eyed actor talks to Benji Wilson about his new role in hit drama Last Tango in Halifax, as well as his previous career as a circus clown

By Benji Wilson

7:00AM GMT 29 Dec 2014

It was Peter O’Toole who once suggested that we “should pity the pretty”. The actor perhaps felt that his looks had hindered his career. Rupert Graves, however, disagrees. “I think that’s nonsense. I think if you’re good-looking you get more advantages.”

It’s not said with any self-regard – Graves has none. Luckily for him at 51 he is still pretty, as countless fan sites attest. When I meet him his hair has been dyed black from its usual grey. He assures me it’s for a role and that he will be “undying” it the minute that role is finished. He is not bothered about ageing.

“I’m just reaching middle age. I’m getting older - that’s what happens. I’m actually quite pragmatic about it.”

The grey stays too for his new role in Last Tango in Halifax, playing a date for Nicola Walker’s Gillian called Gary, who in an early reveal turns out to be Derek Jacobi’s unknown son. Graves is plainly delighted to be joining not only an established hit but one written by Happy Valley’s Sally Wainwright, whom he calls “our greatest television writer”.

“She’s a proper bona fide genius. She is theatrical and absolutely human and true and has a very strong individual voice. It’s her warmth I like really – the latitude she gives to human error. All the characters are beautifully flawed, but also she’s properly funny.”

With his deep dark eyes and winning grin Graves is recognisably the same boy who caught the world’s eye in Merchant Ivory’s 1985 A Room with a View – including the famous scene in which he and Simon Callow dispensed with their clothes and cavorted naked in a pool.

“I remember I had to come in and say, ‘Anybody want to bathe?’ and I thought, ‘Oh no, that sounds so poncey and stupid. If you see the scene again I’m actually blushing but that’s not acting: that’s because I was frightened.”

Because he shot to very early fame in two Merchant Ivory films, A Room with a View and Maurice, it is tempting to assume that he must be posh totty. That he must have gone to Eton and Oxbridge, then Rada with perhaps a stint at the RSC before Merchant Ivory gave him his break.

But Graves is nothing like that and he never has been.

“Do you know Weston Super Mare?” he asks me. “It’s a s***hole. Bill Bryson said it was the worst place he’d ever been.” Rupert Graves grew up in Weston Super Mare.

“I like it because it’s such a s***hole. I like the West Country humour and slyness. I went to a shocking school. I didn’t have any kind of career path – I wasn’t going to be a professional. There was no chance of me getting into university or anything, my childhood wasn’t like that.”

It was an upbringing that gave him what he calls a certain recklessness. At 16 he left school to join the circus. It sounds like something from a penny romance but Graves really was a performing clown.

“It seemed like something I wanted to do so I did it. The circus was run by a Mr Thompson whose first name I never found out. They lost Rudy the Clown and Mr Thompson thought, ‘I don’t have to pay, I can do it through the YTS,’ so he got the government to sponsor a trainee clown which was me. I wanted to be an actor by then anyway. I kind of thought it might be a good thing.”

Thinking something might be a good thing and therefore doing it is an anti-method that has seen him through an entire career. He was a punk at 14 (“I had ripped jeans and a shirt with probably a bit of writing on it and choppy hair and a little bit of pink in there somewhere.”) He worked at Butlins, got an agent from the back of The Stage, was cast in Dennis Potter’s Sufficient Carbohydrate at Hampstead, that went to the West End from where he was spotted and cast in A Room with a View, aged 21. All of a sudden the punkish clown from Weston Super Mare was a star.

“Obviously the good part was that it gave me a profile. But I certainly didn’t take advantage of that profile - I was slightly embarrassed, probably, about the attention. And I felt I hadn’t earned it, I hadn’t earned the acting jobs, I hadn’t trained and I felt very insecure about all that.”

Rupert Graves starred alongside Helena Bonham-Carter in A Room with a View in 1985 (PHOTO: Alamy)

Graves retreated to the theatre to learn his craft, and when he came back to the screen it was TV and indie movies rather than big-budget feature films that became his natural berth. Gradually, via The Forsyte Saga, Scott & Bailey, The White Queen and Sherlock (he plays DI Lestrade) he has worked his way to something of a mid-career renaissance.

Not that he would even recognise the notion of a career trajectory.

“If I need cash I’ll do anything, I don’t really care. That’s how I earn money and I have my family [five children between the ages of four and 11] and I don’t have anything else.”

Of all the many, many jobs he takes to earn that money (on top of Last Tango he is filming three small films and an American TV mini-series, all for release in 2015) – it is Sherlock that has become the most high profile.

What’s struck him most about playing Lestrade in Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’s hit reworking is that it brings with it a new type of recognition.

“Sherlock is the first thing I’ve been in where its fandom is fuelled by Twitter and social media. That has made a huge difference – people can talk to actors and each other directly, they can whip themselves into an absolute fury. It’s bizarre. The strength of it has surprised me.”

He has even found himself exposed to a particularly modern malaise.

“I’ve got somebody who is pretending to be me on Twitter, talking to friends of mine and insulting them – and then showing pictures of children’s legs saying, ‘this is my child sleeping.’ So I went on Twitter and said that’s not me. I did that for a couple of weeks but then it struck me that it’s such a narcissistic thing for an actor to do. I’m not that sort of person.”

That is not very nice. On the other hand, the kind of exposure that Sherlock and now Last Tango will bring – both shows have a large American following - has set Graves up for castings in the US, that place where under-valued British actors go to pay off over-sized British mortgages. He is ambivalent at the prospect at best.

“I tell you what, I really don’t like LA. Every time we do LA I’ve felt depressed. For someone who’s not a very strategic person it’s an extremely strategic industry town. But I have to do it and I’m tempted to go over next year just for a month, have a little sniff and see if I can get something.”

You could easily see Graves doing a Hugh Laurie or a Damian Lewis, turning up as a grizzled American cop or doc and suddenly becoming the global star he was all set to be when he was 21. Equally, you could envisage him continuing to pop up in all manner of British productions, turning in quietly engaging performances and then moving on, twinkly-eyed, to the next one. Either would be worth watching.

#RG #Rupert Graves #interview #telegraph #2014 #last tango in halifax #the man who made me like men #brilliant!#twinkly-eyed #:)

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