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zeldahime · 3 months

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Highway to Pail Day 20

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February 20: A good magician's assistant is hard to find. They're highly sawed-after.

There were a number of very clever tricks Aziraphale had observed stage magicians do that he rather admired but could not add to his repertoire. Many of the most impressive contraptions and tricks were actually performed by assistants, slender and flexible people who contorted themselves within cabinets and boxes while the magician demonstrated the illusion.

Except one memorable night, Aziraphale's act had always been a solo one, and Crowley had made it quite clear he didn't intend to join him on stage ever again.

Then one week, Mutt had contracted the flu, and he and his spouse Calico were scheduled to perform at a charity event, and Aziraphale was just thrilled to be asked to be, as it were, something of an understudy to poor old Mutt and perform in his stead.

"I'll do the hard parts," Calico had said on the phone, "but I think we should go through the way the cabinets work before we go up."

"Oh, yes, that's a very good plan," Aziraphale agreed. "I wouldn't want to accidentally poke you or stick you through!" As this was a telephone conversation, Aziraphale could not see Calico's grimace, nor their clear expression of "what have I gotten myself into?"

They made arrangements to meet at the local church where the performance was to be held in the afternoon before the event. Before leaving, Aziraphale left a note just in case Crowley decided to come by, letting him know that he was performing and when to expect him back. Otherwise, however, he shoved thoughts of Crowley and the last two times he'd performed magic on stage down, determined that this time would be a success worthy of the Marvelous Mr Fell!

Aziraphale wasn't close to Calico, but had known them from their teenage years, long before they had chosen that name; they were exactly the bookish kind of young person who would wander into Soho looking for a community and then retreat, overwhelmed, into the nearest stack of shelves, and so had been into the bookshop a few times, quickly scared off by Aziraphale's glower before it became clear they were more of a shy child than a potential customer. Aziraphale had been at one of their first drag shows and had blessed their wedding, though he had sat on the groom's side. They weren't close and they had never performed together, but neither were they strangers.

Aziraphale's costume and Mutt's both tended to a slightly Edwardian sensibility, though from very different directions, so his and Calico's costumes did not clash as badly as they might have if Mutt and Calico's act had been more modern. They wore a dress inspired by Victorian circus performers, with a tight bodice and a knee-length ruffled skirt, in a light lavender to both compliment and contrast with Mutt's usual navy-dark attire. When Aziraphale arrived to the church, however, Calico had not yet changed, still in brightly-patterned leggings and a shirt that would not have looked out of place on the cover of one of Crowley's bebop albums, still positioning the cabinets and making sure everything was up to their standards.

"Mr Fell, wonderful," they said when they saw him, suddenly smiles but nevertheless all business. "Here, stand over... yes. I've just finished putting together the crushing illusion—let me show you how it works."

The pair of them talked and demonstrated and practiced for a few hours, going over several tricks that Calico had ready, arranging a set that would show them both to their advantage. Aziraphale's sleight-of-hand and misdirection tricks would lead naturally into the tricks where Calico vanished, and thence into more complicated illusions. All ones where Calico was in control, of course; Aziraphale knew very well they had no way of knowing he would change the laws of physics to keep them safe on that little church stage.

Eventually, it was time to change, then to put on a show. The Marvelous Mr Fell and his daring assistant Calico Jones wowed and amazed the audience with their prestidigitation and jiggery-pokery, their conjuring and illusions! The prestidigitation less than the illusions, it has to be said, but Aziraphale thought the turning of a turnip into an inkwell did set them in the mood for the crushing trick, at least, which was quite the crowd-pleaser. He rather thought their act must have inspired a number of contributions to charity.

When he tried to help Calico pack up, however, they were unusually reticent to accept. "Go out and talk to your partner first," they said, "I think he might be mad at you. He's doing that sexy lean against his car, the one where you can feel him glaring a hole through you even though you can't see his eyes."

Crowley!, Aziraphale thought, then partner?, then oh dear.

"Ah, thank you my dear," Aziraphale said with a perfectly cherubic smile to Calico, "and my best to Mutt, if I don't see you again before you leave." He knew he wouldn't; he was going to be sneered at sarcastically for having done magic in a church, because he was an angel and Crowley was a demon and they must have some standards, then taken out in the Bentley for a pleasure cruise where he would complain about the speed, and ultimately end the night quite drunk on some very nice wine.

And Crowley was going to hear all about his show.

Author's note:

The last three days have been a black hole, productivity-wise, and I had to sink all my energy into my job (ugh) and grad school (double ugh) but I did finally finish this!!!

The crushing trick is this one, which is really neat. I loved how the assistant is in control of the trick the entire time. Warning for some seriously objectifying language in the video though; pretty much the entire video up until they reveal the trick talks about the assistant like she's a sex doll.

Calico is Mutt's unnamed spouse, in case it's not clear enough. They're played by British comedian Andrew O'Neill, who also uses they/them pronouns. I wish we had even one line from them when they're not under the Jane Austen Ball Spell, to get a better idea of their voice, but I think I like where I got with them.

I love how Aziraphale just ditches them to go out on a date with Crowley at the end. I wasn't planning on that! He's just a bit of a dick!

#my writing #highway to pail #do it with style events #good omens #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale #mutt's spouse #the marvelous mr fell

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campbluelake · 1 year

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Can’t Get No Connection, Can’t Get Through | Ch4 Motive

Two weeks have passed since the creepy nightmare circus carnival has made itself a part of your lives. You have managed your best in this time. You’ve played a lot of DDR and Frogger. You’ve eaten more funnel cake than is advisable.

Yet, all good things must end. On the morning of the... the date is fuzzy but it must be the 19th, right? Ranger Buddy messages you over the walkie-talkie.

“Well it seems like you are quite enjoying yourselves these past few weeks. Almost makes you forget about everything else, doesn’t it?”

He pauses for dramatic effect, but before he can continue, a loud feedback noise can be heard, and an image overwhelms your brain.

It’s as though you’re overlooking the camp from some bluff that you know doesn’t exist. The sun is slowly eclipsed by a black, featureless figure--just barely humanoid with shoulders and a head. It looms over the camp, bright white dots for eyes bore down at the landscape. Its form shifts like liquid, two hands and arms distending from its inky mass. Its fingers dig into the earth around the camp and lift it out, pulling it close to its chest and cradling it.

Ranger Buddy doesn’t seem to notice this, and as soon as it is gone, he picks up where he left off.

“So I thought to myself - maybe it’s better if y’all just f-“

The feedback returns, and with it another vision appears in your mind.

Shadowy figures roam the campsite. Their wanderings are aimless and their dispositions are vacant. They pass by each other with little to no interaction. Their countenances brighten and shift into lively action when a snake enters their proximity, but that burst of life leaves them once the snake has slithered off to the next party. The laughter and joy that the small reptile pulls from the figures is familiar. You hear these sounds everyday.

And then it is gone.

“What is with these dang contraptions today! Maybe the batteries are on the fritz. Goodness gracious.”

“Anyways, as I was saying before, it’s probably better if you forget about all that other stuff. Things outside the camp and such. The outside world. You clearly want to stay here if y’all are going so long without killing each other, right? So I’m gonna do just that, a-”

The feedback cuts Ranger Buddy off once more. This has taken far longer than he has planned.

Before your eyes is a thick and aged leather bound book. It has seen wear and tear over centuries, fraying, cracking, and tearing in the various corners. Pages flutter as the book flips open to indecipherable words written carefully upon itself. Slowly, but steadily, drops of blood fall upon the book, and the droplets slowly sink into the divets of written word. With more blood, the writings light up with an eerie and malevolent glow. The cascade of blood increases as more blood flows into every crevice of the book, and soon enough, the script beams light that nearly blinds. What's left of the book after the burst of light is a supernatural blaze that eats away at the blood fuel and paper pages. It is a blaze that burns bright green.

“Dang thing keeps cutting in and out can’t hear a danggone... oh it’s back! Like I was saying before I get cut off again, you’re gonna start forgetting the outside world. It’s not relevant to your new life here and all. If y’all do have an attachment to the outside, and want to get outta here, you gotta kill. Do that and I’ll restore all y’all’s memories. Every last one. Tho I s’pose if you forgot it then you wouldn’t remember if you didn’t get it back but I’ll keep my w-”

Ranger Buddy is cut off one final time by a blast of feedback. With it, another vision accompanies you.

You see your reflection in a mirror, staring back at you. It’s you, but it isn’t you. It reaches out towards the glass while your own hand remains at your side, pounding on it with a closed fist. The glass cracks outwards in a spiderweb, distorting the image until you no longer recognize the person on the other side. Something dark oozes from the cracks.

“Gosh Darn dang... Well y’all get the gist I’ll quit while I’m ahead. If you want to stop losing memories and get your old ones back, you know what to do. Enjoy the rest of your day now.”

The walkie-talkies go silent, and a few things cross your mind. What could you possibly forget? What have you forgotten already? Was that the closest Ranger Buddy has gotten to swearing in his life or death?

As you contemplate this, a new voice enters your thoughts. One different from Buddy’s, or anyone from the dreams and visions you’ve had in your camp experience prior. It is a bestial sound, that tugs at something primal inside of you.

#ch4 #ic

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folkloreguk · 3 years

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🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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The Gang Reacts to You Dressing Fancy for a Job

“Is it okay to ask for the RDR2 gang (or just Javier if it’s too much!) seeing their crush all prettied and dressed up for a job (like the riverboat or Bronte’s garden party)? Would they work up the courage to ask them out? your writing sustains me”

YAAALLLLL THIS LONG AS FUCK BC THIS! IS! MY! RASPBERRY! JAM!

In this imagine, you’ll be impressing: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones, Flaco Hernandez

ARTHUR MORGAN

Oh no. When you were volunteered for the job, he had a feeling you’d look charming in one of those big hooped gowns, but … this is like his heart getting hit by a train. The feelings are a little overwhelming, so while the girls add their finishing touches, Arthur tries to stand to the side and not stare. He wants to compliment you, because you look absolutely stunning, but words are completely failing him. Arthur manages to get a compliment out, but you’re totally occupied with how much you love or hate this get-up. Arthur doesn’t even care about what he was forced to wear; he could be in a paper sack and he wouldn’t notice. During the party, he’s distracted by how you seem to float around the room, easily joking with the guests as though you were one of them. Hosea has to knock sense into Arthur more than once, but how can he pay attention when there’s a literal angel in front of him?

When the gunfight breaks out, Arthur is at your side right away, pulling you into his protective embrace and trying to steer you out of the house. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good shot or not, that dress and corset are cumbersome as hell and he’s gonna stubbornly send you home. Arthur wants to be the one taking you back, but he has to stay and fight. He hands you off to Sean, warning him to be careful and get you back to camp in one piece. His tone is actually pretty scary when he says this. Arthur is beyond relieved when he finally gets back. You’re out of the dress, but you’re clearly safe and comfortable, not a scratch on you. He doesn’t care about his own injuries, but he’s pleased when you fuss over them.

JOHN MARSTON

No way John is gonna dress up like some goddamn banker, but he was totally ready to tease you about having to squeeze into a corset and frilly dress. The problem is, you’re gorgeous in it. He doesn’t know shit about women’s clothes or fashion, but something about the color and style just suits you so perfectly, like it was made only for you. He wants to give a sassy comment, but he just … can’t. John goes for a genuine compliment, but his cheeks and ears are tomato red as he mutters “ya look real nice”. If you hate the clothes, it’s a little easier for him to joke around with you, but if you love them and you’re twirling around, as happy as a kid and looking like an actual lady from one of those fancy paintings? He can only take so much sweetness before he has to duck his head and distract himself with something.

When the gunfight breaks out at the party, John is right by your side before you can blink. You don’t know how he moved so fast, but soon his arm is around your waist and getting you back to his horse. John isn’t the most graceful about this, and the dress is meant for dancing, not riding… so it ends up ripping as you two make your escape. Once you’re in a safe place and you can get out of the damn thing, John’s attention goes straight to the tears in the dress, specifically the one that’s showing the stockings and garterbelt you had to wear. The lingerie looks fantastic - it definitely awakens something in him.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

First off, he is not sneaky. Not at all. You know exactly why you were asked to play a role in this little con, and it was so Dutch could see you all dressed up. Now, either you’re totally annoyed by this because screw frills and lace, or you’re delighted because you can dress up like some fancy lady and rob rich folks. Also, it’s pretty funny how he pretends not to be interested in the sort of dress and jewelry you and the girls are deciding on. You know he’s trying very hard not to make a suggestion, and just to be a little mean, you made sure he was within earshot when you mentioned the matter of corsets and fancy undergarments to the girls.

Once at the party, Dutch plays at being some rich banker and you’re his young foreign wife. It’s absurdly easy to pull off, even with your terrible accent, and after each conversation you both are trying not to laugh. He’s definitely liking being able to have an arm around your waist and being able to lean in and whisper to you, but he won’t push his boundaries, especially if you’re already uncomfortable being all dressed up and powdered. While you two are dancing, he’ll whisper in that deep voice, praising you for how perfect you’ve been, or reassuring you that it’ll be over soon. When the shooting started, Dutch pulled you to a safe place you could lie low in, but if you bothered him enough he’d hand you a gun and let you join the shootout.

Back at camp, Dutch’s flirting hasn’t dulled in the slightest. He’ll sit close to you as everyone else celebrates, mentioning how wonderful you were and if you need help slipping out of anything. If you let him, he’ll help unlace those fancy boots, even massage your poor ankles and calves since you aren’t used to wearing tall shoes. Isn’t that thoughtful?

HOSEA MATTHEWS

Nearly all of this con was his idea, and you’re glad to help run it. Hosea is playing the part of some eccentric philanthropist and you’re a grand-niece or some relative. The two of you talk so smooth and fast, easily working off each other, that the hosts of the party don’t stand a chance. Hosea wants to avoid any sort of violence, but knowing the gang, who knows what will happen, so he wants you to stay close to him. During lulls in conversation, when you and Hosea are just observing the crowd and deciding who to speak with next, he’ll lean in and whisper something to you. It makes goosebumps break out on your skin, you can feel how warm he is and sometimes he’ll run a hand up your back as he compliments you on what a natural you are, or reassures you that it’ll be over soon. He’ll truly feel bad if you hate having to dress up and pretend like this; so he’s grateful you agreed to come along and help. If you’re thriving off the party and the trickery, he’ll give you knowing grins and winks that make him seem fifteen years younger. There’s a surprising amount of mischief in him.

When the inevitable fight breaks out (he totally called it), Hosea swiftly gets you to a safe part of the house he noticed earlier. From there you two snatch several stashes of jewels and cash and stealthily make your way out. Hosea had to be convinced to steal as much as you both did; he was terribly worried about you, since the dress would be difficult to run in. When you’re back at camp, Hosea isn’t shy about telling you what a great job you did, and how proud he is. He’ll give a kiss to your cheek and he’s very smooth about offering to remove anything that’s giving you trouble.

SADIE ADLER

Thank god she’s not the one in the fucking gown, that’s all she has to say. Well, that, and the jokes and snark she throws your way while you’re getting ready. If you hate the dress just as much, too bad, you were roped into the plan and Sadie is having lots of playful teasing at your expense. If you adore it and start modeling it for her, she won’t admit how cute you’re being… but she will consider wearing a tuxedo and being some “hoity toity” man just to make sure you’re safe. She doesn’t trust the “gentleman” at this party at all, and the closer you both get to the manor, the more antsy she becomes. All her previous humor is gone as she urges you to find her right away if trouble happens. Sadie is absolutely going to bring your favorite gun along and was trying to figure out a way to strap a revolver to your leg until Hosea pulled you away. You promise you’ll be alright, but she doesn’t look reassured.

The expected fight breaks out, and like you promised, you beeline for Sadie. She’s already on you - how the hell did she get into the manor so fast? - and she’s tossed your gun in your hands. Soon enough you both are blasting your way out of the manor. She gets impatient when you fall for the second time and rips the dress herself so you can run easier. It was your horse she brought around to escape, and Sadie hoisted you up, sat herself in the back and kept shooting while you rode to safety. It was… a hectic and messy escape, but neither of you had a scratch. Once you’re at the camp, she doesn’t feel bad for ripping the dress, even if you liked it. It was necessary, and besides, you can’t keep the frilly thing! Okay, she’ll apologize if you pout. If you hated it she’s more than happy to help you burn it.

MICAH BELL

How the hell is he supposed to respond to this? It would be one thing if you caked on make-up like a tart and strapped yourself into some circus tent-looking contraption, he could work with that. His brain just stops functioning for a few seconds when the girls finally unveil the work they did on you. If you hated the dress and it wasn’t something you’d wear unless a gun was pointed to your head, then Micah certainly had choice words to say, teasing and mocking the difference between this and your regular attire… except they were much weaker insults than he usually had. You were too distracted and uncomfortable to even care. If you adored all of it, practically buzzing with excitement as you turned and twirled for everyone, he might even try an attempt at a compliment, although it’d come out all jumbled and flustered. He decides to stay away and just watch you from a distance, both enjoying the view and trying to figure out this stupid knot in his stomach.

At least you two are apart during the party, so he doesn’t have to look at you enjoying yourself and swaying around in that dress. When the fight starts, he can finally have something else to put his mind to … until he sees you get caught in the crossfire. Micah would throw you a gun he pulled off someone, barking at you to follow him. Dutch told him to get you to safety, which he initially bristled at, but then he dutifully put you up on Baylock. He told you to keep shooting while he rode off - and he still got plenty of shots in himself. Once you were back at camp, he wouldn't apologize for dirtying the dress. It had to be done, and now the job is done, so you can get out of it…. and he would absolutely offer to cut it off with his knife. The whole thing, corset and all. He's gonna fantasize about it well after the fact, too.

CHARLES SMITH

If you love getting a chance to dress up and wear jewels, Charles can tell, and he finds your joy just adorable. If you dislike the idea of having to dress up for a stupid party, even if it’s a robbery, he’s very encouraging and reassures you as many times as you need. This kind of con isn’t really his scene, but he knows you’ll do well and he promises to look after you during the whole thing. He’ll even have you ride along with him on Taima if that'll settle your nerves. Once you arrive, Charles helps you down like a gentleman. If you’re still uneasy, he asks you to wait a moment and then comes back with a rose he picked from the garden. He places it neatly in your tied back hair. “Perfect. Don’t worry, you’ll do great, and when things go south, I’ll be there. Promise.”

Once the fight breaks out, Charles is true to his word and helps you escape in the chaos. You have no idea where he came from, but you didn’t refuse the help, or the gun he offered you - at some point he’d packed your favorite one - and you’re pulled up on Taima as gunshots go off all around you. Charles put you on the front of his horse to protect you better, even if it’s harder to shoot from there. It sort of makes you feel like a princess being swept away. When you two return to the camp, he tidies the rose in your hair and offers to help remove the restrictive dress or massage your legs if they hurt … casually, of course. Probably.

BILL WILLIAMSON

When the girls finally unveiled their handiwork, he thought his heart was stopping. You were so pretty - well, you normally were, but now more than ever. You looked like one of those porcelain dolls they put in music boxes. Bill didn’t even want to touch you or stand too close, worried he’d dirty you somehow. He couldn’t believe you wanted him to play the role of the bodyguard that would follow you around the party.... Though he played the part well, his silence combined with his big build made him seem intimidating. If you were clearly miserable in the dress and with the company, he wasn’t sure what to say to make you feel better, so he stayed quiet. If you were loving the dress and just thriving in the party, fooling everyone into thinking you were some high-class belle … Well, he was too distracted watching you, still not able to say much.

Eventually he had to split off from you to join the men, which he didn’t appreciate, but he made a point to bring your gun along with his. When the expected gunfight broke out, Bill beelined for you, practically tossing a man that was too close and handed over your gun. He didn’t expect you to be so grateful, it made him blush in spite of the gunshots going off all around you two.

The fight was more dangerous than expected, so Bill hoisted you up on Brown Jack without warning and raced off. Your dress ended up getting ripped from his haste, and if you really liked it, he feels bad for screwing it up. It’s easy to turn around his mood by complimenting what a good “bodyguard” he was. Just don’t flirt too much, he’s already had a mess of feelings today.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

He was trying to hide his excitement when he found out you were going to be dressing up and joining the others on this con. You’re already an angel, now he’s going to see you dressed in a beautiful gown and decorated with jewels? It fit so perfectly, too, like it was made for you. Javier wouldn’t hide his approval of the outfit, even giving you some suggestions on more comfortable shoes or a better hat. Mary-Beth thought it was adorable and left him to help you out - that made it much harder for him to hide how pleased he was with your outfit. If you truly hated it, he’d understand and would try to reassure you that not only did it look wonderful, you were going to pull the job off perfectly. His warm hands would sit on your shoulders as he said this, hoping you trusted in him. If you’re the sort who loves dressing up and conning, he shares your happiness and will even dance with you a little before you have to leave, relishing in your giggles.

While the party went off well, with you playing your part perfectly, chaos inevitably broke out. You have no idea where Javier came from, but you were damn grateful that he’d seen you and pulled you into a safe corner. Together you both snuck into the manor, stole as much jewelry as you could carry and easily slipped out the back, gunshots still echoing through the place. Javier grinned as he draped all the stolen necklaces and bracelets on you, asking you to keep them safe for now. You clasped your arms tightly around his torso when you rode away with him, resting your head against his back whenever you got tired.

SEAN MACGUIRE

He all but jumps out of his seat with delight when he spots you. Mary-Beth is still fussing with your hair, but the corset under your dress has already done all sorts of magic, and the dress itself hugged you like you were meant to wear it. Of course he can’t resist from fawning all over you. He wants to pick you up and twirl you like a princess, but Miss Gaskill scolds him for dirtying the dress and he gets dragged away by the men. For once Sean was wishing he was away from the action and complained enough that they let him accompany you on the carriage - that is, as the driver. Sean didn’t even notice if you were extremely uncomfortable, he was too busy gabbing about the party and saying what a natural you’d be. When you finally have to leave, he takes your hand and gives you a warm smile. “You’ll do great. I know it.” He didn’t realize how comforting it was.

Once trouble began, you were impressed how quickly Sean scrambled to your side, and with your gun no less. Before you could question how he did it, he was gleefully shooting and directing you away from the fight. As much as Sean wanted to stay and end it, he was far more concerned with your safety, you noticed. He swung you up on his horse with little grace, and even if your dress was ruined with blood and mud and your hat went flying off, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his torso and listened to the wild man whoop and shoot through the escape. Sean would absolutely be the type to help you off the horse and insist on carrying you around camp, bragging about his “rescue” the whole time.

LENNY SUMMERS

God damn it, he already thought you were cute! Now you’re gorgeous and he’s way too bashful to say anything about it for a while. He’s thankful for the girls fussing over you and the boys dragging him off to discuss the plan, because being around you is too distracting and makes his thoughts short-circuit a bit. He’s normally fine with talking to you! And it’s just a dress, so what’s different? If you really loved the outfit, you’d be a natural in it, and Lenny would find your enthusiasm and confidence very attractive. If you clearly hated it, he’d want to comfort you somehow, but would worry about coming off wrong. It’s a shame you didn’t like the outfit, because you looked fantastic in it. Before he had to leave with the boys, he’d pay you a compliment. “You’re gonna do real well, miss. Um, you … you really fit the role.”

He has a good sense of when things will go south, and when Lenny felt the tension in the air, he made a point to find you in the crowd. Ones the bullets started flying, he found you before you even made sense of the situation. Lenny would rather get you to safety right away, but if you want a gun, he ain’t denying you. All his previous nervousness would be gone as you both would shoot up the place, then find a horse to escape on. Lenny wouldn’t feel that shyness again until you both got back to camp, when he had to help you off the horse. He’ll immediately start joking about your dirty dress and praising your gun skills to keep his beating heart in line. Lenny feels much better when you’re back in your old clothes.

KIERAN DUFFY

He was embarrassed enough watching the girls parade you around, pleased with their work, and they had every right to be - you looked even more beautiful than the women in the magazines. It’s like you walked right out of them. He felt bad if you were forced into the role, knowing you probably hated the whole get-up, but if you absolutely enjoyed it, he was enchanted by how you seemed to beam with happiness. He’d only seen you like that a few other times, and he was pleased to commit it to memory. When you’re getting ready to leave, he can’t help but give you words of encouragement. He can’t imagine you’ll do anything but shine at the party.

Kieran was tasked with staying behind at the camp, as he expected, but at least he was trusted to hold a gun and stay on watch duty. His thoughts often drifted to you, wondering if you were doing well and if you were sick of the party or having the time of your life. When he heard powerful hoofbeats, he snapped at attention, readying the gun and calling out... only to recognize your horse and your silhouette. Your dress was a torn mess, but it was still restrictive, so Kieran wasted little time in helping you down. “Miss, are you alright? You aren’t - is that your blood or someone else’s? Alright, good. C’mon, sit down here.”

You told him about what happened at the party, how things got out of control and you had to flee in a hurry. The boys were likely splitting up to shake the law off them. Kieran was so relieved you were alright, his heart was hammering but outwardly he was calm as he helped tie your sprained ankle and get you some water. He wasn’t his nervous self at all, tending to you and asking questions with confidence ... until you pointed out you needed help getting out of the corset and dress.

TILLY JACKSON

Tilly was initially in charge of “acquiring” the jewelry and accessories you’d wear, but she ended up shooing the other girls away when they kept suggesting ridiculous hair and make-up ideas. She didn’t care what lady’s magazine Karen read, Tilly wasn’t about to turn you into a side-show act. She was always helping you with this or that, you both relied on each other. She always knew how to reassure you, taking your face in her hands as she spoke softly. “Listen, it’s nothin’ you ain’t done before, just wearin’ somethin’ fancy now. And those boys will do their job right and keep you safe, I’ll make damn sure of that.”

If you hate this sort of thing - dressing up and conning others - Tilly would’ve tried to help you get a different role, but ultimately, you had to do it. She’d give you a softer version of her usual tough love. If you loved it, Tilly would be the one teasing you to get your head out of the clouds. Either way, when you were distracted, she’d threaten the hell out of the boys to keep you safe. Even Arthur would get an earful; if you so much as came back with a scratch, she’d have their hides. If you came back a muddy, bloody mess because you couldn’t resist joining in the gunfights, Tilly would have your hide, too. If you came back mostly clean because you avoided the fight, she’d just laugh and tease you for being so “fussy” - but she was relieved you came straight to camp. The dress and jewels are all sold afterward, but Tilly keeps some bits of fabric to sew you both something.

MARY-BETH GASKILL

You have a feeling she’s enjoying this ... a lot. While the both of you were cool as you acquired the dress and jewels to go with it, as soon as you were back at camp, Mary-Beth was giggling and going on about how to do your hair. Soon enough you were dragged off to a tent for privacy and she dressed you up, cooing over your figure in the dress and how nice you looked. She didn’t even notice how flustered you were getting - of course if you enjoyed dressing up, you could share in her enthusiasm and get her advice on how to style it. If you hated it ... Mary-Beth reassured you it looked wonderful, “just like a princess!” Well, that didn’t help, but her obvious swooning was pretty cute. Mary-Beth ended up coming along with the job, dressed up herself and playing the part of your “companion”, since all high-society ladies were about that. You’re pretty sure companions weren’t supposed to be as red-faced or affectionate as she was around their ladies, but you weren’t complaining.

At the party you two were naturals, and what little screw-ups were quickly covered up. If Mary-Beth didn’t know something, you did, and vice-versa. You two were actually quite a team, and you noticed Hosea winking at you in approval from across the room. When trouble was starting, you pulled Mary-Beth aside and you both hastily dug through the manor’s drawers and silver cabinets while the gunshots went off outside. If you needed to defend her, you would, but luckily it didn’t come to that. You were able to steal a horse from their stable and go riding off, Mary-Beth holding tightly and urging you to go faster. You both couldn’t resist keeping two matching bracelets from the robbery.

KAREN JONES

Karen may not be interested in passing as one of those hoity toity girls, but she’s absolutely gonna help dress you up as one. She’s laughing the whole time, throwing out suggestions and distracting the hell out of Tilly and Mary-Beth as they work. Karen was the one who found the dress, and you’re surprised at how well it flatters you and how the color suits you so well. “Didn’t I say I know how to pick ‘em? Now tighten up those laces! Society ladies don’t have fun!” Karen is quite pushy regardless if you want to do the job or not - if you don’t, she’ll all but drag you to the carriage the boys brought and force you in. It’s a hell of a chance to get a lot of money, and she doesn’t want you missing it. If you love it, that’s all the better! She teases you plenty either way while you’re trying to dress, and gives you a big kiss before you have to set out, not caring who sees. You were long gone by the time she turned on the boys and all but threatened them to bring you back safely.

The party was lonely without Karen, you wished she had been part of the plan so you both could talk together instead of mingling with these insufferable people. Sure, she may have been a little too loud and unladylike... but it would’ve been far more fun. You escaped on cue, making a point to steal a gorgeous stallion as you left the manor behind, listening to gunshots ring out through the night. The boys (and Sadie) were doing their part, so it was time to go home. You had not expected Karen to come riding on your horse with a gun. “Damn it, you were takin’ too long! I got worried...”

She tried to hide how worried she actually was on the way back. She helped you out of the infernal buttons, lacing and corset, and gladly snuggled your aching body. By the time the boys returned to camp, you both had fallen asleep in your tent.

FLACO HERNANDEZ

You’d mentioned the plan in passing to Flaco, and he was so worried for your safety he came all the way down from that forsaken mountain to make sure it went off well. He didn’t hide that he disliked you working with “that little gang” when you could just stay with him, but that was for another time. While everyone ran around preparing for the con, he watched with great amusement as you were primped and stuffed into a corset and ballgown, whistling at you and making plenty of jokes. You weren’t going to live this down, ever. Once your outfit and hair was mostly finished, Flaco patted his lap and you sat obediently until it was time to go. Even if you hated the dress, Flaco thinks you look beautiful and will tell you so, kissing your cheek and muttering all sorts of sweet things to distract your nerves. He really doesn’t care about showing you off, if anything, he’s amused by your friends trying to look away.

It was hard not to think of him as the party progressed. You played the role well enough, but soon you were itching to get back to camp. Who knew how long he would stay around before going back to that cold place? The expected gunfight broke you out of your thoughts, and as you made your escape ... you suddenly felt a pair of familiar, fuzzy arms wrapping around you. “I’ve got you now, princesa. Why don’t you come back with Flaco?”

He was able to get you back, but not to your gang’s camp. Flaco had set up his own spot, making a point to bring your horse and your things... the only way the gang knew you were alright is he left word with Miss Grimshaw (after she gave him a thorough ‘questioning’ about his relationship with you). You better believe he’d help you out of that fancy ensemble, but if you really loved it he’d urge you to dance and spin around for him. It’s a rare day when he sees you wearing something other than four layers, after all.

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #micah bell x reader #sadie adler x reader #hosea matthews x reader #charles smith x reader #bill williamson x #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy x reader #tilly jackson x reader #mary-beth gaskill x reader #karen jones x reader #flaco hernandez x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 preferences #omg i love this prompt but i took forevveerrr es tut mir leid

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Circus!Ibvs- Edward's Early Morning Practice - Slight Isward

Edward needed to practice first thing in the morning, it was his normal routine.

Sometimes Edward had to wonder why the norm had to be so strict. He didn't dwell on it though, heels clicking as he walked through the circus. Nobody should be up at the time, the sun hadn't even begun to rise, so Edward was all alone. It wasn't like he minded though, who cares if nobody was up, no one but Barry would have even considered being around him anyways.

Edward stifled a small yawn as he treaded casually through the grass, passing tents and empty stands as he went along. Combing through his hair, Edward spared a few glances around the place, as if hoping he'd see something so early in the morning. And of course, there was nothing different, just him, the tents and the outdoors. Not a single soul in sight...

Edward slowed down, staring down at the dew covered ground.

Who was he trying to fool? Of course he wasn't fine with being alone, it hurt. It hurt that nobody wanted to be around him, and he wasn't taking Barry's kindness for granted, not at all. He just wished the other performers wouldn't judge him so harshly. He was the ring master after all, and yet nobody wanted to give him an ounce of respect!

No, Edward knew they would never give him any respect, he simply hadn't earned it yet. But how was he supposed to do that? Nobody would believe what he tried to tell them, saying he was spouting all this bullshit- it was far from bullshit! Edward knows what he's doing, they just won't believe him.

The teen clenched his teeth, hands balling into fists as he stomped off hastily, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. He didn't want to think about it, less he get even more riled up then he was already. Edward let out a growled breathe as he ran a hand through his hair, gripping and pulling at it for a moment before smoothing it back out. It took a bit of walking to arrive at his tent, the exterior colored in blue and red with a few yellow accents.

He took a moment to stare it down, foot tapping against the ground as he narrowed his eyes. Stepping onto the concrete, he walked over and pushed the curtain aside, strolling inside. It was rather dark in the enormous tent, but Edward easily maneuvered through the inky black, knowing where the light was. A few steps later and he came across the light button, letting out a tiny huff as he pressed it.

The lights came on instantly, the ringmaster squinting his eyes a bit from the sudden brightness, scowling as he did so. Once his eyes had adjusted, Edward walked over to the control panel, turning it on as his eyes wandered to the netted hoop hanging from the middle of the tent. Whirling sounds started up as contraption shook a bit, jostling the hoop as it was brought down.

Now he just had to select the song he'd been practicing with since last week. His next performance was to happen by Monday at twelve o' clock and end by four two weeks later, but he'd gotten atleast most of it down already, he just had to get the end sequence right and he'd be all set to just go through the motions. He'd practice the expressions afterwards.

Edward stopped for a moment, cursing under his breathe as he left the podium where the control panel was. He'd forgotten to set up the safety net, God knows what could happen if he forgot, there was no way he was asking Drew to heal him. Finding his way to the supply closet, Edward fished for the key on the top of the door frame, quickly slotting it into the lock and unlocking it.

Placing the key back were it was, Edward opened the supply closet and wandered inside, flicking on the light and looking around. It took a bit of digging through various hoops, whips and other equipment before he found it, pulling it out and holding the bundle under his arm as he turned on his heel, walking back out. as he made his way to the one side, Edward uncurled the net and began to flap it out, going over to one of the metallic rods placed in the ground.

Finding the corner of the safety net, Edward hooked one of the holes on the rod, repeating that a few more times before he backed away. Thankfully there was a smaller platform on the rod to ensure that the net didn't slide down it, so he didn't have to worry about that.

It didn't take much effort to finish securing the the net, hopping up onto it for a test run. He looked down at the net, noticing how his heels didn't fall through the stretchable holes. He found it pretty funny how lucky he was when wearing heels, he had yet for them to fall through any holes. Edward let out a small snicker, casually making his way to the other side of the net, passing his hoop with an unvolentary bounce in his step from the bouncy net. It worked a bit like a trampoline, which was another thing that amused Edward.

When he got back to the panel, Edward tapped his foot against the podium, searching on the recorded history of it for the song he had used. Thankfully it was somewhere near the top, so he didn't have to scroll through the millions of songs he had performed with before.

Quickly taking a glove from the panel, he pulled on, glancing down at the button on the back of it before going back and selected the song he found, high-tailing it to the hoop as the machine started up. Edward made a mad jump as the hoop rose, latching onto the bottom and pulling himself up to the top of it, balancing on it easily as it swung a bit from the force. Once it stopped swinging, Edward positioned himself just like before, waiting with anticipation for the music to begin.

'Lean On by Major Lazer, Featuring DJ Snake.' Spoke the robotic voice from the panel.

The beat began as the hoop swung, Edward following his routine as the music really started up. His mind got lost in the excitement, swinging through the air as he'd spine and dance on the hoop, his body flying through the motions effortlessly. He'd flip from the top to bottom, twisting and turning as he'd hang by even a single heel. Edward couldn't help but smile, even as he'd fly and swing so dangerously high, the adrenaline was exilerating and it was something he loved.

As he neared the end, he had to remind himself which part he had failed to get down, swift hands pulling himself down to the bottom of the hoop as he threw his lower half up, twisting his heel into the net of it. Edward took a deep breathe as he began going through the motion, letting his body swing over like all the other times he tried.

And just like all the other times, his heel came loose from the net. Just like before, Edward was sent hurtling for the safety net with terrifyingly fast momentum. And just like before, he let out a loud curse of surprise when he impacted it, bouncing for a moment as the music continued.

Giving a deadpan, Edward pressed the button on the glove with a huff of annoyance, the song stopping abruptly as the hoop came swinging down, Edward standing as he grabbed onto it.

'Repeat.' that same voice called out.

And so, Edward began the same shit. Going through the motion, flying through the sequence up to that same part. And he failed every single time, fall after fall, yet he'd start again and again, growing more determined by the fail. He had to have gone through the routine more then twenty times, not a single break being taken between each. He wasn't stopping until he got it down, Edward absolutely had to be ready for the next performance, he couldn't miss it. Not this time.

Minutes turned to hours, yet time never was revelant to Edward. At some point, Edward had tried changing his heels, from three inch to four, then four to five, five to six all the way up to his ten inch. Nothing seemed to help hook the heel to the net, and Edward became frustrated the more he tried. Different techniques to tie the net to his heel, Edward going through even his most complicated ones to help stay on the hoop.

And then he got stuck.

It wasn't intentional, maybe it was his karma for trying to tie the heel to the net too fast, but he got stuck either way. So close to his goal, but now he was just hanging there, eye twitching as he grit his teeth.

"DAMNIT!!" He shouted out, twisting his upper body to grab onto the hoop, grumbling under his breathe as he fiddled with the knot. One of the things he hated about tying it like this had to be the fact that he could barely ever remember how to undo it, which in turn only made his blood boil.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He growled lowly, hands becoming more jerky by every failed attempt. Should he call for help? Maybe Barry was around somewhere, some people should be up by now right? No, he didn't want to risk someone other than Barry coming to find out who the fuck was screaming so loud at a time like this, only to see their very own ringmaster caught in a net by the heel of his shoe.

He couldn't even take off his heel, the thing was belted securely to his leg with the aesthetic (that Edward will die with) of a lock on it that Edward locked for extra security. The key was on the panel.

Edward let out a frustrated huff as his body went limp, just casually swinging upside down as he tried to assess what he'd do now. How was he supposed to get Barry? He left his phone at his tent so he couldn't call, and even then he wouldn't have been able to reach it cause there was no way in fuckery he was gonna practice with his phone in his damn pocket. That thing would have been sent flying by the very first spin. So what was he supposed to do?

"This was not what I thought I'd see."

Edward jolted when he heard a familar voice, scowling as he looked over to the entrance to see a certain fire dancer at the tent opening. Why did it have to Beamer? Why in the name of everything did it have to be Beamer?

"Why are you here?" Edward muttered as Isaac strutted inside the tent, examining his situation with an indifferent expression. "I heard you shout. Didn't expect to see you like this though." He simply replied, arms crossed as Edward let out a gruff sigh. "Jesus Christ." Edward spoke, already feeling the blood rush to his head.

"Jesus Christ indeed." Isaac echoed as he went over to the control panel, Edward raising an eyebrow as he did so. "And what are you doing, Beamer?" He asked. "Getting you down, what's it look like?" He replied, looking over the panel for a moment as Edward scoffed.

"I'm surprised that you even have the decency to help somebody." He said as Isaac pressed a few buttons. "Well, I coooould just toss you around like a ragdoll..." Isaac trailed as Edward gave him a stern glare. "Don't you try it, Beamer." Edward spoke in a warning tone, much to isaac's unaffected attitude. "And what are you gonna do huh Error? Beat me to a pulp?" Isaac said as he leaned against the panel.

"You can't even touch me right now." Edward hated how right Isaac was, growling as his eye twitched. "I hope you get raped by an ostrich." He spoke, a deadpanned tone of anger laced heavily in every word. "And I hope you get mawled by a hippo, but that's just wishful thinking." Isaac rolled his eyes as he went back to messing with the panel. "Be careful with that Beamer, you don't even know how to use it." Edward spoke, hoping to all God Isaac didn't end up busting the damn thing.

"Oh? Well why don't ya tell me, all mighty 'ring leader'?" Isaac mocked as he looked it over again, trying to figure out how it worked. "Oh when I get the FUCK down there Beamer, your baby-making days will be over before they even begin!" The Ringmaster yelled out, to Isaac's offense.

"Wow okay, maybe I won't let you down." The fire dancer huffed as he got off the podium, Edward's face going white as a sheet at the realization. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he shouldn't have said that, fuck Beamer, fuck his anger issues, fuck life right now!

"Oh my God- FINE!! What do you want me to do!?" Edward shouted, his head beginning to feel a bit dizzy from the blood as Isaac turned around, a smug look on his face. "Don't be an asshole for a whole week, and give me a hundred bucks." He immediately said, stalking right back up to the podium as Edward inhaled slowly.

"Fine." He muttered loud enough for the other to hear. "Red button to the far left of the panel on the first row, third row green button at the far right, white button on the second row in the dead center, then hit the black button at the far right in the bottom corner."

Isaac followed those instructions to a T, the contraption jerking for a moment before the hoop began to lower down, much to Edward's relief as he touched down on the net. The blood finally escaped his head as he sat up, Isaac walking over as he began to attempt untying his heel from the net. Isaac hopped onto the net, casually strutting over and plopping down in front of Edward.

"Let me see that." He huffed, batting Edward's hand away (much to the other's annoyance) as he took to getting rid of the knot. They sat in awkward silence for a while until Isaac was able to get it off, Edward looking away with a small huff of embarrassment.

"I..." He trailed off, looking between Isaac and the net as Isaac rose a brow. "...Thank you." He grumbled, ears hot and cheeks flushed as he moved away, standing up walk back to the panel. "Wait, what?" Edward deadpanned and turned to look at a very confused and amused Isaac.

"We made a deal, Beamer. I don't break deals." He responded, turning his head away and getting off the net as he went over to the panel, grabbing the key as he sighed in defeat, ears still tinted a fresh red blush, completely unaware of the beetred dancer behind

"I'll go get my wallet."

******************** ******************** ********************

I say it now with confidence, Isaac has a thing for Edward in High heels, don't try and change my mind XP

#ibvs #circus!ibvs #onebizarrekai #isward #edward quinton #isaac beamer #isaac beamer versus the supernatural #Drabble #This was longer than I thought it'd be #but eh #more content I suppose #anyways #Isaac will always have a thing for Edward in heels in Circus!Ibvs #Edward hates breaking deals #new headcanons unlocked XD #Tw: Ostrich threat #you heard me right #Ostrich threat

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Threats and Collateral

TITLE: Threats and Collateral CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-Shot AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s reaction to his SO being brought in to the TVA as a way to control him.

RATING: General Audience NOTES/WARNINGS: None

Loki scowled at the contraption around his neck, limiting his power. Looking around the containment area, there were many creatures and beings with similar around their own necks. Since being captured by the TVA, he had been stripped of his armoured clothes and placed in grotesque and frankly uncomfortable attire and given food that he assumed the palace hounds would turn their noses up at.

He was yet to be spoken to by anyone of notable seniority as to what was the counts of which he was being held. They mentioned him altering the timeline but nothing more. He had to wait until he had a trial to know what was going to happen. Or so he thought.

Loki never liked being manhandled, as most beings tended not to, but being grabbed and forcibly handcuffed made him eye those around him carefully. The guards that did so, did it quickly while another man stood back and watched studiously which brought Loki’s attention to him. There was no manner to age the man in front of him, not with where he was, so there was no telling if he could defeat him or not in hand-to-hand combat, though being handcuffed and collared also was to his disadvantage.

“Follow me.”

That was all the man said before turning to walk towards one of the elevators that dotted the walls of the room Loki was in. He had known better than to attempt to go near one before, the singed clothing and black burns on the floor and the unconscious what he assumed to be corpses of different beings telling him to do so without authorisation was not to be recommended.

Though he did not trust the official of the TVA, Loki knew that whatever they wanted, they had no reason to burn him as they would not be so dim as to do so in such a fashion, ergo, he followed sceptically. Passing through the white line on the floor without being harmed and into the metal contraption to bring him to Norns’ knows where in the building.

“I am Mobius M Mobius and you, are Loki.”

“You heard of me, I’m honoured?” Loki eyed him carefully.

“Do you know where I am taking you?”

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

“No, I’m taking you some place to talk.”

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie talkie.”

Loki eyed the man with utter disgust at the juvenile and irritating manner in which he spoke.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, bringing the two men to a room bare of all objects bar a table, two chairs on opposite sides of it and some stationary equipment.

Mobius indicated for Loki to sit at one side while he sat on the opposite side. “This is the TVA.”

“I know exactly what this place is.” Loki interrupted. “The Time Keepers have built quiet the circus and I see that the clowns are playing their parts to perfection.” “Big metaphor guy. I love it. It makes you sound smart.” “I am smart.” “I know.” “Okay.”

“Okay.” “What do you want from me?”

Mobius replayed the footage of Loki taking the Tesseract and explained how that was not the original timeline and then showed him what his actual timeline was, the events on Asgard with the Aether and the Dark Elves, him taking the throne under the guise of Odin, Odin’s death, the return of Hela, the destruction of Asgard and finally, the less than comfortable scene were Thanos choked him and snapped his neck in one fell swoop. With an unconscious rubbing of his throat, he looked at the agent across from him. “And you want me to help you because?”

“We need your unique Loki perspective.”

“I don’t believe you.” Loki shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you believe anyone. This Loki variant needs to be fixed.”

“But why is it the Loki variant when those misfit Midgardians clearly are the ones that altered time. How was I supposed to know that what I did was altering time when they were the ones altering it?” Loki pointed out. “The breaking of reality was not my doing, but theirs, have them fix it.” “But you don’t want us to do that, not really. Because if we did that, you would have to be imprisoned indefinitely as you are not the true timeline Loki and you know that you will face a less than pleasant end soon. But if you help us, you get to use all these traits you love so dearly to actually do something and not be destroyed. “ “What happens if I help you and fix all of this, let me guess, you’ll imprison me then?” “No, then you will be offered to stay here and work for us and fix mess after mess for…well, who knows how long. Time works a little differently here.”

“So, I help you, I‘m free to work for you, I don’t help you, I sit in uncomfortable clothes waiting to die of old age, which, if I am correct, may never actually happen here?” Loki checked.

“Something to that effect.” Loki thought over his options. “I am not interested.” “I thought you might say that.” Mobius activated his computer screen and clicked on buttons. With how he was doing it, Loki was suspicious that he was not actually typing anything at all but pretending to do so to try and get Loki to change his mind. But after a few moments, the elevator door behind them rung out and opened.

At first, Loki did not care enough to turn around. He suspected it was either someone to forcibly get him to comply, in which case, the ignoring served its purpose of not acknowledging such or it was guards to bring him to holding once more or to his new prison cell, which again, he did not care to acknowledge. But then, he felt the urge to look, especially when he sensed someone looking at him. When he turned, his eyes widened. “What?” He tried to rise from his seat but was pushed back down by a guard that seemed to just appear beside him. He glared angrily at Mobius. “How?” “We knew there was a high probability you would say no, we really needed you to say yes, so we brought a little incentive here for you,” Mobius explained. “I have studied practically every moment of your life. There is one single being in the universe you will willingly do anything for.” He pointed behind Loki. “Your adoptive parents, your adopted brother, sure, you’ll do stuff for them, when it suits. You used to be far more compliant, but then you grew up and realised your brother mattered more. You killed your biological father but her…you would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” “No.” Both answered immediately.

Mobius looked at them both as sat back slightly before pointing to Loki. “He’s the better liar.” “I told him not to do anything stupid and he thwarted that coronation and literally did the most stupid thing possible letting go at the Bifrost, so no, he would not do anything for me.” She glared over at Loki who looked at the table shamefully.

“Yes, there’s enough time for domestic arguments at a later point, but we really need to get started on this.” Mobius focused on the matter at hand again.

“Wait, isn’t bringing her here altering the timeline even more so?” Loki pointed out. “I feel as though there’s a significant case of double-standards going on here.”

“It’s not really affecting the timeline because the timeline is already altered,” Mobius explained boredly.

“How could it possibly not be affecting the timeline when having her being here instead of being where she would actually be is affecting the timeline?” “Because she is integral to getting you to fix the timeline,” Mobius argued. “But she was doing something when you took her, now that is not going to get done and that affects the timeline.” Loki countered.

“We need her here to get you to say yes so you fix the timeline you broke, ergo, she fits this timeline.”

“Wait, I am here because Loki broke a timeline so to fix the timeline he broke, we have to break the one I was in?” She clarified.

“I didn’t break it,” Loki explained. “Thor and his Midgardian friends went back in time because they wanted to change the future but I touched something I was not supposed to touch while they were doing that because their attempts to get it went awry because they are idiots, so technically, they broke the timeline and I am being forced to fix it because it apparently my touching the Tesseract goes against TVA rules but them going back in time and altering the whole future does not.”

“By breaking the timeline I was on, which in itself is a breach of these rules?” She asked in disbelief.

“Exactly,” Loki confirmed.

“No,” Mobius stated a mere nanosecond after.

“It seems like it to me.” She looked at Loki for confirmation. “Me too.” Loki concurred.

“Well, it’s not.” Both looked at Mobius sceptically. “So, you help us and everyone is happy.” Mobius clapped his hands together. “So, let’s get you started as an agent.” Mobius pressed a button and Loki fell through a portal in the floor. Mobius rose to his feet and straightened his jacket boredly. “These men will bring you to the guest rooms.” “I think I rather do something while I wait.” “I don’t think so.” “I wasn’t asking.” She gave a smile that said she would not be dissuaded. “This is a big place, I am sure you can find somewhere for me and good luck trying to control him.” She laughed before walking out of the room.

Mobius sighed. “I immediately regret this decision.” He rose to his feet and went into the elevator. After a few minutes, the doors opened to show Loki looking at him in a shirt, tie, jacket and pants. “That better?”

“It will suffice.” Loki walked in and stood next to him.

Mobius remained looking forward as the elevator moved again. “I just need to grab a few things, and we will begin.”

Loki said nothing in response.

Mobius walked out of the elevator and the door remained open until his return a minute later, in entirely different attire and looking almost as though he had showered. He fiddled with his tie as he walked back in.

“I have to say,” Loki stepped towards him and centred his tie as he spoke. “I think it’s adorable that you think you can manipulate me. I am ten steps ahead of you.” “Is that right?” Mobius barely had a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Oh, it is.” Loki sneered. “Nor can she. Though, I am curious, where is she?” “Gone to dictate to whoever is stuck dealing with her.” Mobius looked straight ahead. “She will be fine.” “She had better, or else,” Loki snarled. “Or else what?” Mobius glanced sideways, no emotion in his voice.

“Or else I am going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki swore with a smile.

#Loki #others #submission #god of mischief #submitted fic #threats and collateral #wolfpawn

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bluemoonbeam15 · 2 years

Note

https://bluemoonbeam15.tumblr.com/post/659283053990068224/what-if ...I want to see more of this.

Ah, the role switches. That one was fun to write!

<><><><><><>

"I know, I know! I always act like the sky is falling," Dawn wrapped her arms around her. A voice called out her title and she looked up a second too late before a stalk came crashing down on her.

Angry shouts sounded over the whirring of the machine. Hopper blinked and turned from his work to see the damage. "Princess!" he rushed over and made to help but the Council waved him off. "I didn't see you there! I'm sorry!"

"Hopper, what is this?" she winced as she straightened, gesturing to the contraption.

His eyes lit up, "Oh! It's my latest invention. It harvests grain at twice the rate!"

Dawn gave him a tired look, "Hopper, we don't have time for this--"

"Exactly! We never have time for anything 'cause we spend all summer harvesting for the offering," he jabbed a thumb back at the stone. "But my invention will speed up production!"

The princess sighed, "Another invention?"

"Oh!" Hopper forsook her question and redirected his attention to a small leaf he folded. "Since you're gonna be queen soon, you'll need this to oversee production." He caught sight of Phyllis and reached a hand out to take a dewdrop, "Dr. Phyllis, if I may."

"That's great, Hopper, but--"

"Just an ordinary piece of grass and bead of dew, right?"

"Hopper--"

"Wrong! It's actually a telescope," he held it out to demonstrate, focusing on her, "You're looking lovely this morning, princess." He lowered the device, chuckling bashfully, "Of course, you wouldn't need a telescope to see that," he mumbled.

"Listen!" P.T. snatched the telescope from Hopper's hands and threw it on the ground, "the princess doesn't have time for this. You wanna help? Get rid of that machine, get back in line, and pick grain like everybody else!"

"I'm sorry, I just--"

"Hopper, please," Dawn urged.

He deflated, walking off, "Just trying to help."

_______________

Hopper mumbled bashfully before stopping with wide eyes, "Say that again?"

"I said, even Thud is afraid of birds," Dawn repeated.

A few blinks later and he sped down the tunnel, leaving a perplexed princess. She was about to call out after him before he came speeding back, giving her a chaste peck on the cheek, "Thank you!" Not a second later and he was gone again.

She touched her cheek in shock for a second before smiling where he'd left.

Hopper wasted no time in rushing back into the infirmary, "Thud is afraid of birds!"

"And I don't blame him!" Manny agreed from his spot on the bed.

Hopper began pacing the floor, "This is perfect. We can get rid of Thud and no one has to know I messed up. You just keep pretending your warriors."

"Woah, Hopper, Honey, we are not about to fight flies," Francis shot him down quick.

"You'll be gone before they even get here. Now, here's what we do--"

"Not another word," Slim stopped him. He jabbed a finger in his head, "I don't know what you're concocting in that little grasshopper brain of yours, but we'll have no part of it!"

_____________

It was a solemn silence the whole ride. Hopper sat at the edge of the open box, legs dangling as he bore holes into the moving ground. The Circus Bugs had been watching him, waiting for his natural optimism to turn him back around. But alas, Hopper was completely torn down this time.

"Maybe we can cheer him up?" Manny suggested quietly. They moved toward the opening and got his attention.

"The circus life isn't that bad," Molt encouraged.

"Yeah, you can be a part of our act!" Gypsy beamed.

"Like this! Uh, you can tell when bees have too much to drink. They're a little buzzed," Rosie laughed but it died down as Hopper didn't seem entertained. "Oh, never mind."

"Hopper!"

The grasshopper's antennae pricked at the faint noise. "Flik?" He saw the ant booking it toward the carriage. He nearly tripped as he reached them and Hopper picked him up under the arms, "What are you doing here?"

Flik gasped for breath, eyes wild, "You have to come back! Thud's moved into the Island and they're eating everything!" The group gasped. "And...I heard one of his gang say, that when he's done, Thud's gonna squish my mom!"

"Oh, dear!"

"What are we going to do?"

Atta's eyes lit up with an idea, "I know! The bird!" The rest of the group chorused their agreement.

"The bird won't work."

They all turned to see Hopper sitting, brows furrowed. Manny cocked his head, "What do you mean? It was your idea!"

Flik tripped over his words a moment, "But you said--"

"Flik, forget everything I ever told you, alright?" Hopper sighed and turned away from them. "Let's just face it. The colony is right. I just make things worse. That bird is guaranteed failure." His antennae drooped back, "Just like me."

Slim stepped forward, "Now listen here. I've made a living out of being a failure. And you, my friend, are not one!"

"Oh, come on, Hop, you've done so many good things," Francis encouraged.

"Oh really? Show me one thing I've done right."

They exchanged glances, pondering awkwardly. Heimlich finally spoke up after a moment, "Us."

The Circus Bugs nodded in agreement. Slim smiled, "He's right! You rekindled the long-dormant embers of purpose in our lives!"

Gypsy grinned, "And if it weren't for you, Manny would have never gotten in touch with his feminine side."

"I--" Manny was about to refute before mulling over the idea, "Actually, she's right."

"Lieutenant Atta, reporting for duty!"

"Son," Manny straightened, "you say the word and we'll follow you into battle!"

"We believe in you, Hop," Slim added.

Hopper swept his gaze over each of them. Flik gave him pleading eyes, "Hop, please?" The grasshopper deflated and merely turned away again. The group shared a wave of disappointment at their failed attempt. Flik settled his resolve and jumped out of the carriage. The others looked after him a moment before assuming he was running off to find different help. A moment later he was running back, hopping back in the carriage with a rock in hand. He set it down heavily beside Hopper and stepped back a bit. Hopper rose an eyebrow and turned to see the sediment, "Pretend this is a seed, okay?"

A ray of light filtered around them and Hopper slowly smiled as he turned to the ant, "Thanks, Flik." He pulled the kid in for a hug.

Manny leaned toward Rosie, "What's with the rock?"

"Must be a colony thing." Manny nodded at the explanation.

Hopper stood up with new confidence, "All right, let's do it."

The group cheered, "That the Hopper we know and love," Atta beamed.

"So, what do we do first?"

Hopper smiled deviously as an idea came to mind.

<><><><><><><><><>

I'll make another one of these if you'd like. I wrote another role switch scene but didn't want to overrun this bit.

Also, yeah...it's been a little over a week since I've posted anything.

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with hyper fixations and other attention-span-related "problems". But my hyper fixation with A Bug's Life has officially reached its end after about 10 months.

That doesn't mean I don't like the movie anymore. I still absolutely love it and will continue writing for it! It just...won't be the quantity of content ya'll have been used to for almost a year now.

As far as my new hyper fixation? Arthur Christmas. Unfortunately, I came to find that this is yet another underrated movie that has maybe even a smaller fandom than this one.

So, I suppose I'm starting at ground zero again XD. But it's fine. I hope to do the same in that fandom as I did here and write stories that will bring people back to it and join them together. At least, I hope that's what I've done during my time in this fandom.

I will keep posting, as mentioned, just not at the same rate. And I'll be using a separate account for the Arthur Christmas fanfictions and what-not.

Hope I made a little bit of a difference here. And if not, maybe sometime in the future I will. Love you all!

#a bugs life #hopper #flik #prompt #ask #role switch #circus bugs #fanfiction #writing

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myth-logic · 3 years

Text

A List of other bands that Lemon Demon listeners might like, Part one?:

Over these past few years, I have gone down a large spiral of interesting music, and I thought "Hey, I could share this with the interwebs" .

First off, I didn't put Oingo Bonigo or Tally Hall here, as there seem to be lots are familiar with these artists in this particular space, also there might not be the usual kind of recommendations, a lot of this stuff comes from my own playlists and that sort.

Secondly, my music taste is kind of garbage, so if you have heard of all of these artists before... I'm sorry and if you don't like them, I'm sorry. (I also had no idea how to list these, so it's just in older and newer) I Will also note a lot of the bands have some heavy songs and themes, some songs are even mentioned in this text, maybe look up the lyrics beforehand. Thirdly, Haven’t listed any side projects, other bands, or whatever for artists if they are already listed, those are you to discover :] (Note: there are heaps, like almost every band here has one or two from their members.) With that, let's get started:

- Older Music - Telex - Belgian-based synth-wave band with heavy style and surreality. If you’re looking for some cool sleek music, this is good for you.

Youtube (possibly?)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWSr0Zz0Np8BatpUkCWT7fg They Might Be Giants - you know how everyone goes “He made that??” with Lemon Demon? It’s all fun and games until you realize the same people that made “Stuff Is Way” also made the Hotdog song for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTZ0pVJExw6z0XjqEzchX8g

Thomas Dolby - Experimental synthy stuff with heavy earworm-ability. Another long runner. You probably already know “She Blinded Me With Science”.

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCEOhcCZezBhL85OVH-nxDUQ Gary Numan - Oh hey, another long-running artist. Heavy synth and experimental stuff, with some clever and odd lyrics. You probably already know “Are “Friends” Electric?”.

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUxV8b_z4xI8Qbo1tsOTABg

Peter Gabriel - Experimental pop with rock elements, again another artist with a very long run. You probably know one or two of his songs already or his very lovely-looking music videos.

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/petergabriel/featured

- Newer Music - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me - Funky 80s inspired music, hell yeah. You probably already know their song “Leave Me Alone” or “Choke”

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/c/IDONTKNOWHOWBUTTHEYFOUNDME/videos Ginger Root- Music that has been self-described as "aggressive elevator soul”, that’s a pretty good descriptor honestly. Very lovely and earwormy music.

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkel1hn6h7FEtlCQnfcLctg

Dead Man’s Bones- You like spooky music to chatter your bones too? Here’s a band for you, unfortunately only one album but that's fine.

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCaNtp5fhm3tpSKZKt7p0wAw

Friday Night Plans - Funky low-fi pop with that nice experimentation. You probably know of their cover of “Plastic Love”.

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZXme19iWvFWQWg229FOErg

Bear Ghost - Cool rock mixed in with a more theatre-like vibe. Warning: I’ve had "Haunt, The Cartoon Heart" in my head for weeks. You probably know “Necromancin’ Dancin’”

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzVnuTG7kJa1ZCmswWRa3jA

Youth Lagoon - Lot more of a low-fi pop feeling experience, with a feeling of like, being underwater in a pool and hearing the outside. Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/YouthLagoonVEVO

The Circus Contraption Band - Their music is like a cabaret show made by skeletons, the best way to describe it.

Youtube (just a topic ;-;) https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCM4e6oo8HTlc2ZJtMtIfYgQ I might have a part two, It depends if I get enough music in the meantime thrown my way. Hope you enjoyed this weird little thing. Let me know if you want to see more of this. :] Thanks

#lemon demon #music recommendation #youtube #discovery

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

Circus of Dreams, pt 2 | Feysand

Night Circus AU. Part 1 Part 3

Rhys wandered into the admin tent in search of Cassian, in crisp white shirtsleeves and his untied bowtie draped around his neck. After a particularly long day of performing, it was finally Sunday night. And in the circus, that meant the day off tomorrow.

It was tradition that every Sunday night, after the lights had gone of and the patrons had all been sent home, Cassian and Rhys would pass a bottle of brandy between them. Then they would sleep most of Monday, and the circus would be on the road again by Tuesday. They never stayed in one town for more than a week.

Cassian was looked up as soon as Rhys walked in, and handed him an already filled crystal glass. Rhys raised the glass in thanks, and then sat down heavily on one of the folding chairs.

"Rhysand," Cassian greeted him, sitting down next to him. "Happy Sunday." They clinked their glasses together, and Rhys took a long swallow. Cassian always had excellent brandy.

"I know moving is always a pain," Cassian commented, "but I can't say I'll be sad to leave this sorry little town."

Rhys was about to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing behind them. They spun around, and in the entrance way, there stood the girl from the show.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I would have knocked, but the tent does not appear to have a door." Rhys chuckled. "No, it does not. Please, do come in." He pulled up a chair for her, and she sat nervously. "Cassian, this is Ms Feyre Archeron. Ms Archeron, Cassian." Cassian, still wearing his bowler hat but not his jacket, touched his brim to her. "Pleased to meet you Ms Archeron. What brings you here this evening? I'm afraid the show is quite finished for the day." Feyre gave him a wan smile. "Actually, I'm the clockmaker's daughter," she said. She explained further. "I saw your advert on the box office." Rhys raised an eyebrow at Cassian. What advert? "Ah, yes of course," Cassian said. "Well, show him in then." "Oh, no, actually. I'm applying myself. You see, my father is old and doesn't work anymore. But he's been teaching me since I was small. I can fix anything."

Cassian considered her for a moment.

"The position we are looking for may not suit... a young lady," he said carefully. "The show has a number of complicated contraptions that help us to achieve the spectacle you see before you, and we are looking to have someone on staff for ongoing maintenance. Permanently," he added.

Feyre frowned, then said, "I assure you, I am in much better condition to be traveling than my father."

Rhys smirked, and Cassian's eyebrows rose.

"I only meant to say, that not many people are willing to give up the stability of their lives to be on the road with us. But if this is acceptable to you, I have no personal objection."

Feyre thought for a moment. "Will I be able to send a portion of my pay back to my family here?" Cassian shrugged. "It should be no trouble" Feyre nodded firmly. "Then it is acceptable." "Very well then. I'll have you look at a few of our machines, and if you can fix them, you're hired."

And with that, they left the tent together, leaving Rhys to drink alone.

He did not see either of them for the rest of the night. But when he was walking through the grounds the next afternoon, he crossed paths with Feyre, a worn travel bag in her arms, trailing after a stern faced Amren.

"Ms Archeron," he said in surprise. She stopped. "Hello, Mr..." "Rhys," he supplied. "Just Rhys is fine." "Well then I guess you should call me Feyre, too." Rhys smiled. "Alright. Feyre."

Feyre glanced toward Amren, who had started to get away from them, and shot Rhys an apologetic look before hurrying her footsteps to catch up. Rhys followed.

"So, you really are coming with us, then?" he asked, eyeing the bag in her arms. "It wasn't a difficult choice, really," she said. "I'm not particularly attached to this town." "I know the feeling," Rhys replied. "Can I help you carry your belongings?" Feyre held the bag aloft. "This is it," she said. "I only have the one bag." "Then allow me." Rhys held out his hand, but Feyre shook her head. "I'm quite alright, thank you," she said with a smile. "It's not heavy."

Rhys stuck his hands in his pockets instead. Even though Amren's legs were short, she walked fast.

"Were Cassian's machines alright?" he asked. Feyre smiled. "They were quite lovely. If everything I work on here is as intricate, I believe I will quite enjoy myself."

They were stopped short when Amren suddely drew up beside a caravan.

"Right," she huffed. "This one's yours. You'll be next to Morrigan, I imagine she'll want to dress you. No one's working today so you can do as you please, but it'll be a six AM start tomorrow to move out. Hope you're good with horses."

And with that, she spun on her heel and left them. Feyre stared after her. "Sorry about our director," Rhys apologised. "She's always like that. But she's amazingly clever."

Feyre looked up at the long caravan. There were two doors in the side, and large wooden wheels that made the door look too high for her to step up into.

"Ah," Rhys said, sensing what she was looking at. He reached up and pulled the door open, ducking inside and lifting out a small set of steps. He set them against the caravan frame under the door.

"You get used to caravan living," he said. Feyre smiled in thanks, and put her bag down inside the door. Rhys knocked on the other door.

"Mor," he called. "Come out and meet your new neighbour."

A second later, the show's beautiful seamstress popped her head out. "Oh hello, who is this darling creature?" she asked. Rhys grinned. "This is Feyre. Feyre, Mor makes... well, everything. The tents, the costumes, pretty much all the lovely things." "You made them?" Feyre breathed. "I did..." Mor mused, her attention on Feyre's clothing. She looked Feyre up and down, and frowned sadly. "Oh, no. No I don't think so. Do you have anything else to wear dear?" Feyre looked down at her dress, that looked grey but could once have been blue or purple.

"It's pretty much just this," she said.

Mor clattered down the steps, and hauled Feyre into her own room. "Well, we'll just have to see about that," she said. Feyre shot a helpless look back at Rhys, who just chuckled as they disappeared.

"Dinner's at six," he called. And then, still laughing to himself, he headed back to his own caravan.

Over the next couple of days, Rhys did not see much of Feyre. It rained all day Tuesday, so packing down was a nightmare, and the horses didn't want to move in the mud. It was a long, cold, miserable day, followed by a rough night of travel where the wagon wheels stumbled through uneven roads, and no one got much sleep.

Getting up the next day to set up in time for the first evening's performance was a sorry affair, and then he had about an hour to change from his dirt-splattered overalls into his tail coat. By the time he was headed to his black satin tent, he was almost running late.

Rhys was just turning the corner, when he ran into Feyre. She let out a soft oh as they collided, and Rhys reached out to steady her. "Hello, Feyre darling." He smiled at her. "Rhysand. Sorry," she said.

It was then that he noticed her dress. It appeared that Mor had put her in one of her famous creations. It looked like a black ball gown, with a tiny bodice and a long, flaring skirt. His hands, gloved, were on her bare arms. Rhys quickly let go. The gown was strapless, and Feyre had long gloves that came up to her elbow. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but honey strands of it fell softly around her face. In her embarrassment, a faint pink flush had spread over her cheeks. Over her uncovered chest. Rhys' heart squeezed.

"No apologies necessary," he said smoothly. "I see Mor's had fun with you today." Feyre fidgeted with the silken skirts. "Yes, she said as long as the circus was open, everyone had to look the part." She gave Rhys a wry smile. "Even the clockmaker."

Rhys' eyes got stuck on the tug of her soft lips.

"Yes well," he murmured. "You certainly look like you belong here."

Feyre's smile broadened then, even as her blush returned, and she dipped her head to him before she continued on her way.

Rhys stood, dazed for a moment, before remembering that he needed to be on stage in five minutes.

****

Where are we going with this? I'm not in control.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acomaf #acosf #rhysand #night circus au #mine #stay with me the smut is coming #eventually

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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Wacky Wally Wackford’s World!

Greetings, I say, greetings demons of all ages! The name’s Wally Wackford, an oh so suave man of business! You may not know me, but surely you’ve seen me…pretty much everywhere. Yes, I’ve never been the type to stay in one place for long. Life can be pretty wild at times. But that’s what makes it oh so fun!

So what’s my story, you say, you say? Well look no further, ‘cause I have a tale to tell.

I’ve been doing freelance work off and on, laboring at one job, moving onto the next. The jobs vary a lot, but I’m a Wally of many trades. (Yes, I’ve been fired many times as well, figuratively and literally…it is Hell after all.) Early on, I found out that living in poverty is never a lot of fun. I quickly learned how to scam other people…and boy did I enjoy it! It was the only way I could inch toward the top, get some power of my own. I’d make a few deals here and there and then when clients got desperate, I’d say something like, “Oh I’m so sorry but there’s an extra fee you have to pay. Forgot to mention that.” Then I’d point to that small scribbled section on the contract I added in moments ago.

“I’m starving, sir!” they’d say. Or, “I left my money at home,” or my favorite: “Shove it up your trickster rear!”

Sometimes they did pay me extra. Other times they didn’t…and those were the ones who soon forgot about everything forever. (chuckles).

Anyway, moving on.

Sometimes when my days got long and hard, I’d go to saloons for a nice bottled drink. The emerald colored Greed Mead is my favorite. Twirling my thin black mustache, I’d wink at some pretty imp gals nearby and say, “Hey there. You’ve been in Hell for a long time. Is that why you’re so hot?”

Most of the time, I’d get a swift punch to the face in response. The glares on their pretty faces, “Take that remark to the Sloth Ring, lazy bootleg fucker.”

So many aggressive people these days. I could tip my black hat to many imps and they’d either fall to my charms or roll their eyes. I was fine with that. There’s not much else to do in Hell then to live your life and amuse yourself with watching others struggle. In fact, pretty much every sin is encouraged, so why not keep going?

After stalking around looking for more people to scam, I came across Loo-Loo Land in the Ring of Greed. I’ve always loved that place, its vibrant atmosphere emitting joyful fun and chaotic flair. I walked on over and asked the vendor, “I say, you have any jobs here?”

“I’ve heard of you, Wacky Wally,” he said at the ticket stand. “You may be a good pick-pocket, but your skills are nothing compared to Mammon. In fact, this whole place is a fucking rip-off of Lucifer’s Lu-Lu Land!”

“All the more reason to love this place!” I exclaimed.

“Robo Fizz is putting on another show at 7pm tomorrow,” said the beefy imp vendor. “Made in Mammon’s factory and modeled after the famous imp Fizzarolli.” He then spoke in a low whisper, “It includes some behind the scenes moments for the VIPs…you know, with tentacles and ‘special features.’”

“Oh that sounds delicious!” I said with a slow grin. “It’d be great to see how his…mechanics work someday…”

The imp vendor rolled his eyes and flinched at my lighthearted comment. Always know what to say to get that grimace reaction.

“Anyway,” said the vendor, “We’re running low on staff, so you can go sell those torches over there.”

The imp pointed to a pink cart with Mammon’s jester face on it. I shrugged and got to work.

I happily rolled my cart around, selling torches wherever I went. I could honestly stare into those mesmerizing green flames all day.

“Torches here!” I drawled in my Foghorn Leghorn southern accent. “66% off when you buy four! Parties, decoration, destruction and more!”

One time on my break, I got to talk to Robo Fizz about money, shows, sex and chaos. We even cracked some jokes together. The robot seemed a little nervous in my presence but then again, he was very unpredictable on a daily basis.

“A duck, a frog, a demon and a skunk go into a bar. The bartender told them that the drinks were one dollar each. How did they pay for them? Answer: The duck had a bill, the frog had a greenback, the demon had a soul…but the skunk only had a scent!”

“Hahahaha!” Robo Fizz laughed, sparks flying near him. “Your jokes are much better than Blitzo’s corny puns!”

“Why thank you,” I replied. “But nothing beats your organ-playing animatronics in your ‘Wonderful World of Evil’ puppet show you did last month.”

Robo Fizz grinned at the compliment. “You do anything else besides selling torches?”

“I scam, I kill, I do a little bit of both. Oh and I’m also a great inventor!”

“How marvelous!” Robo Fizz grinned. “Perhaps if you have enough mayhem in you, you could perform with me at the next Fizzarolli N Friends show!”

“I say, I’d love that! I’m sure your show will be top notch, copyright be dammed…won’t it?”

Robo Fizz smiled widely, hiding a strain. “You bet it will!”

It was during one interesting day when I pushed my cart by a large tent where several Robo Fizz posters were posted. I held up a troch with a hand and called:

“Torches, I say! I say! Get your inconvenient torches here!”

Then before I knew it, the robot and a random imp crashed right into the cart.

“Ow, I say OW!” I cried as the green flames quickly spread around. After getting the flames off me, I ran for the hills out of the burning park. I sat, dejected shortly afterward. So much for that job. Along with figuring out what to do next, I also happened to watch the imp fight off Robo Fizz…and the robot falling into the dragon’s mouth.

How unfortunate.

After helping Robo Fizz from the dragon’s insides, (killing said dragon, pulling out said robot, cleaning and making quick repairs), I inched closer to him and said, “You made some new friends, I say.”

Robo Fizz stood tense with just long wires for his body, a metal skeleton of his previous appearance. “Yes…an old time co-worker of mine. A clown of an imp named Blitzo. He and his sisters were once part of a circus act called “The Amazing Imp Siblings. A bit dowdy if you ask me. ”

Robo Fizz looked around. “Hahahaha! That was some chaotic fun. But now the park is ruined!”

“I say, if I were you,” I told him, “I’d do all I could to get this park repaired and back on track. Costs a whole lotta money. The last thing you need is to have your boss disappointed in you.”

A brief look of fear came on his face. “Oh yes, yes, good idea, Wally.”

“And your friend…whether you upstage him or what, you’d best be sure Blitzo stays out of trouble. I lost my job and almost my life because of that fight!” My yellow eyes shined in a show of sadness.

“I-I will not let master Mammon down…not that I have a choice.”

“Let Asmodeus know what’s up as well.”

Robo Fizz nodded, spun away and laughed. “Time to find that rodeo clown imp!”

0 0 0

Later on after leaving Greed, I got a brilliant idea. It was after I saw some old fashioned 1800s snake man in Pride plow down buildings with a metal bulldozer vehicle. That was it! I could start my own business!

I walked over to 666 News station. “Oh Katie,” I said in my sweetest voice.

“What is it, scum?” she asked, sitting at a mirror and doing her hair. “Can’t you see I’m preparing for a back to back broadcast right now?”

“I was considering doing my very own commercial about me exploiting…erm, employing other demons for my new factory.”

Katie barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that, filthy old man! Now get out of my studio.”

“Very well,” I said. As quiet as a hell mouse, I snatched a camera with an eye at the center and made my way out the door. The rest of the materials I needed came from a nearby junkyard. (Thankfully I avoided the wrath of some hungry kangaroo parasitic queen demon). I was running out of money fast; with no job around the corner, I figured I’d start my own!

Even I don’t really know where I got my inventing skills from. Many say it was my natural trait. Others say I learned from other experts in the trade. After all, one of the quickset ways to a man’s wallet is through the latest technology.

But I, Wally Wackford would not settle for your standard modern devices. No. I preferred to make things…well, wacky.

In no time at all, I had built myself my own mini studio where I could film my commercial! Now, what to call my company? Hmm…

The Onceler One In a Lifetime Opportunity? No, not enough Ws.

Wowing Whimsical Wonderous Wonders? Nah, too many Ws.

Ah…of course! What is a company if you don’t have your name on it?

0 0 0

“Uh huh, keep going, keep going, keep going!” Blitzo insisted at the I.M.P. office.

Moxxie switched the channel again. This time, an imp appeared wearing a large black top hat, a white shirt and pants, gray vest, black bow tie and black boots. He held a cane in his hands and he also had a thin curly mustache. A mischievous grin of sharp teeth appeared on his face.

“I say, I say!” the imp exclaimed, briefly pointing his cane at the camera. “Are you looking to get work making crazy contraptions and goofy gadgets?” “Crazy Contraptions” and “Goofy Gadgets” appeared in bold spiked icons to the imp’s left and right. The imp twirled his cane.

“Well call me at Wacky Wally Wackford’s Wacky Idea ‘Factory!’”

He pulled down another screen. The title appeared in bold red, gray and white letters surrounded by pinkish circles reminiscent of classic cartoons. “Factory” appeared in quotations. Wally Wackford appeared again.

“Where you make the things and I make the money!”

Wally Wackford then got up closer to the camera with a pleading look. “Please, I’m very desperate!”

“Bingo!” Blitzo called, shooting and exploding the TV again.

0 0 0

It was actually really easy to find where Blitzo was and the new sinner inventors. The killing company of imps had me very curious. If they could start a business, why shouldn’t I? And being in the company of amazing inventors…

I could almost see the soul dollar bills floating into my hands.

I snuck up to the building, merged into the floor, eavesdropped on their fascinating conversation…

0 0 0

Crash!

A metal plank crashed into the room from above as Moxxie scurried out of the way. Loopty Goopty strolled down the plank. “Blitz!”

“Loofa!” Blitzo called, saying his name wrong. “We can explain everything. I was…”

Crash!

Millie pulled Moxxie out of the way before another metal plank landed in the spot where he would’ve been. From on the floor, Blitzo’s butt was very much in view. Blitzo glanced down at him and remarked, “Oh chill out Moxxie, if you kiss my ass any harder you’ll go right inside me.”

Moxxie turned beet red in the face and scooted further back. Millie helped him up again.

“Thanks for saving me again,” Moxxie said. “I would’ve foamed at the mouth and maybe died again.”

“Why would you think I would ever ignore you?”

Moxxie shrugged.

Just then, the demonic form of a man rolled down the plank. His body was black and spherical, with a mint green head wearing a black bowler hat on top. He had a large bushy light gray mustache and pince-nez goggles with dark red spirals on the lens like Loopty. His grinning teeth resembled piano keys.

“Lyle Lipton?!” Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo asked in unison.

“I don’t understand,” said Millie. “We thought you went to Heaven.”

Lyle Lipton chuckled. “Heaven?” He rolled toward Loopty Goopty. “You don’t make millions in technological advances in robotics by not experimenting on the poor!” He laughed.

Loopy Goopty grinned as he unleashed his weapons in front of Lyle Lipton. “Finally! We meet again at last! Now that you’re dead, you have no money to keep from me!”

“Well, I’m a better inventor than you!” Lyle scoffed. “And I’ll make the most money here first!”

“Nonsense you no good son of a bitch!”

“Tie yourself in a knot, loony Loopty!”

“Roll in your grave, fat shit inventor!”

“Two robotic inventors?!” called a nearby voice. A steampunk blimp hovered in the air and a well-dressed snake demon appeared from a hole in his ship.

“Who is that guy?” Lyle Lipton asked.

“I’m the one and only Sir Pentious!” he declared. Several Egg Bois were steering his ship. The eye on his dark top hat peered at the other sinners in curiosity. “With my dominating machines, I aim to take over all of Pentagram City!” Then he muttered, “The repairs were a fucking nightmare to endure.” He glanced at the leftover cracks and holes on the metal sides of his ship.

“Oooh!” Loopty exclaimed in admiration. “I’ve only seen such inventions in old time history books. How long have you been here?”

“Since eighteen eighty eight!”

“Love the loopy numbers!” Loopty grinned, making three small eights with his contraptions. “I’m Loopty Goopty! Lyle is my could’ve been partner in crime but actually rival!”

“When you’re rich as me, who needs a dead partner!” Lyle exclaimed.

“You’re dead too, you know!”

“Where did you cowardly sinners get here?” Sir Pentious asked.

“Well we just got here,” Lyle called. “Experimenting on the poor made us millionaires! Just…be careful when messing with anti-aging machines. Made us both old.”

“A machine that changes one’s age?” Sir Pentious pondered. “That could prove to be ussseful in the future,” he hissed.

“Oh, you should join us, snake man!” Loopy suggested. “Or me, rather.”

Sir Pentious briefly glared. “Hmm. While I’m perfectly capable of spreading my constrictive terror on my own…I suppose having some…lackey sidekicks would suffice.”

“Don’t call us lackeys!” Lyle sneered. “And I’m not working with him!”

“Maybe if we briefly collaborate as a team…”

Lyle grumbled in annoyance.

After a moment, Sir Pentious sighed. “Okay, you may join me, but…”

He spread out his hood, revealing pink eyes. “Don’t even think about crossssing me.” He pulled his hood back. “Now go gather your contraptions and help me manage those scrambled fucking eggs!”

A bunch of eggs in top hats and suits rolled out and jumped on the two inventors, who were stunned.

Loopty then laughed evilly. “Inventors to inventors it is!”

Just then, I popped out of the ground in the room.

“Did someone say, I say inventors?! Name’s Wally Wackford, and I am lookin’ for creative new people to exploit! I mean employ.” I twirled my mustache with an evil grin.

At last, a chance to expand my business of the mass production of robotic Fizzarollis! All of Hell will go crazy when they get a chance to buy all the sex robots, the merchandise, everything...and all to profit ME!

“Everyone, stop fucking up my walls!” Blitzo yelled. “Moxxie’s gonna have to fix all this shit! Satan’s balls! First we deal with Heaven’s table-scraps, now this?”

I smiled. “Well I guess you can say, you say, you have a holey operation here, Blitzo!”

I slapped my knee and laughed at my own joke.

“Get out,” Blitzo muttered.

Soon I doubled down on the floor laughing. “Oh! I said, ‘o’!”

Blitzo yelled, “No, I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

Everyone in the room looked at Blitzo in shock and surprise.

0 0 0

And then, that one other time where I helped host the Harvest Moon Festival Pain Games!

Wally Wackford a.k.a. me…stood on the wooden stage, holding a gray microphone decorated with an eye in the center and small horns on the top. I wore my usual white shirt, vest, white pants and dark boots. I twirled my black cane and tipped my black top hat.

I spoke dramatically through the microphone.

“Welcome, I say welcome all to Wrath Ring’s annual Harvest Moon Festival! To kick things up, we have the great prince Stolas-a here to user in this here Pain Games!”

Stolas took the microphone from me and chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“How kind, Wackford.”

Stolas then addressed the audience. “Greetings tiny Wrath Ring imps. I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!”

A crowd of imps glared at him and several boos were heard. Many of these Wrath imps were impoverished farmers who lived on scraps, meat or good crops if they were lucky. The food they worked so hard to produce was consumed by royalty and those in the other Rings. But the reward for their work was being underfed, underpaid and underappreciated instead. The unbalanced cycle had lasted for generations.

I, too, stared at Stolas with a glare in my eyes. That rich royal thinks he can parade around, doing whatever he wants. Well unfortunately for him, I have plans of my own. Once he sees what I’m capable of…

He will know who really rules the roost.

Stolas obliviously continued. “I’m happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest imps to show their skill and dominance.” He did a little wave with his fingers. “Good luck to you all!” He noticed Blitzo in the crowd beside Moxxie and Striker and spoke lower. “Especially that sexy little one there! Yoo-hoo, Blitzy!”

“Oh fuck me,” Blitzo scowled.

A gun went off and the games began.

The first event was the race. Moxxie was instantly trampled by the other racers.

The second event was the high jump. Striker climbed over the high wooden ramp structure with ease and raced after Blitzo who jumped past him. Moxxie struggled to keep his balanced as he reached the top. He slipped down, trying to use his claws to hold on. He fell with a splash in a small puddle…and was promptly chewed on by a monstrous black and white shark with several red eyes.

The third event was an event with rope. Striker grinned as he held a tied up Blitzo. Blitzo’s arms, legs and horns were all tied up. Moxxie gulped as a stronger grinning imp tied him up with ease.

The fourth event was tug of war. The crowd cheered as the two teams pulled hard. Striker, Blitzo and Moxxie were on a team. Moxxie stumbled and fell into nearby water, where the shark attacked him again.

The fifth event was mud wrestling. Blitzo and Striker grinned as they wrestled each other, Striker getting the upper hand as he held Blitzo down, arms locked. Moxxie was instantly crushed in a football hurdle by a group of imps. As they got off of him, Moxxie sat up. And the shark leaped out of the water and over the fence.

“Mother fucker!” Moxxie screamed as the shark crushed him. (Moxxie somehow survived all this.)

I hopped back on stage.

“I say, I say for the first year ever, we have a tie, for the winner of the Harvest Moon Pain Games!”

Stolas took the microphone from me again.

“The winners are…Striker, and my darling Blitzy!” Stolas did a one-legged pose as the crowd cheered.

“Just say my name right!” Blitzo complained. He muttered “Fucking dick,” as he and Striker walked onto the stage.

0 0 0

After the event, I noticed that I.M.P. and Stolas had left. After sharing an undiscernible look with Striker, we parted ways.

I soon returned to a special place in Greed, tired but determined. I walked alone down dark hallways, torches burning green flames on either side. I wagged my pointed red tail.

I pushed open the double doors and came across a marvelous sight.

Gold. Heaps of it, just shining brightly all around the vast spacious chamber. Gold pillars held up the cavern-like ceiling, a chandelier made of bones and diamonds hung from above. There were chests of necklaces, precious gems, goblets and weapons of every shape and size. Hanging on a far wall, concealed in shadow were angelic weapons…at least half a dozen.

I stared around in amazement. Even Lucifer would be surprised if he could see this place.

I raced around and tossed the gold coins into the air. In a craze, I rolled around in a nearby pile of green dollar souls. With a grin, I stood up and stared with pride at the grinning face of the jester printed on there.

A face confident in his ability to deceive others, pursue wealth and bask in endless entertainment.

The grinning face was all too familiar…

…because it was my face.

Wally Wackford leaned his head back, mouth open in a high pitched shriek as dark magic flickered around him. The imp form fell and morphed into shadow. In the imp’s place, a large black beast with thick fur, razor sharp claws and red eyes decorating the body. The figure stood up on two powerful furry legs and sat comfortably in a giant golden throne that occupied the center of the chamber. Angular jester clothing of red, gold and purple stripes adorned the wolf body. And finally, a large spiked black crown sat atop the dark loopy jester hat with bells at the ends. A white and gold jester face showed sharp white teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Dark clawed hands juggled fresh demon skulls into the air and popped them into his large mouth. He crunched loudly before swallowing every bit.

My imp disguise was perfect. Literally no one else save for Robo Fizz and a few elites knew who was underneath. And even then, my magic was so powerful it could easily confuse anyone around me.

Being an imp has its advantages; you can travel anywhere and gather information along the way. You can track imps from a killing company and find out where they’ll likely travel to next. You can affiliate yourself with your own robotic creations, some slave imps and succubi…and then in your own form, work with a fellow Deadly Sin on the next stage.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Funny, really. Wally Wackford could easily be a separate being, born into poverty, learning to scam others at an early age and go up from there. I, however, didn’t need to learn anything…deceiving others and attracting material wealth was a natural talent. As was shapeshifting.

Lucifer might not be happy with me coping his idea of a theme park…but business is business…and in Hell, anything goes.

That incompetent prince Stolas would be dead soon enough. No more Goetia showoffs to get in the way of my rule and reputation. At least the prince’s wife was rightfully concerned with maintaining tradition that has existed for centuries. Aside from my dear friend Lucifer, I was, and should be, the most powerful being in Hell. I’ll keep exploiting those I choose because money is money.

Those I.M.P. assassins have no idea who they were dealing with.

I let out a crazed evil laugh, intermingled with a wolf’s howl. With a single touch of my hand, my nearby scepter turned into gold. I admired its shiny flawless sheen. Asmodeus, Leviathan, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, Beelzebub and myself…the Seven Deadly Sins…circus-loving rulers of the Overlords and in charge of maintaining chaotic order in our respective Rings.

I, Mammon, had much to do.

#wally wackford #helluvaboss #helluva boss theory #mammon

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wolfpawn · 3 years

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Threats and Collateral

Based on a request sent to me from an Anon - One shot ideas (if this is cool, please, thank you): how about Loki's reaction to his SO being brought in to the TVA as a way to control him?

Rating - General.

Note - copious stills and gifs from the Loki Trailers and a lot of lifted dialogue from there too. If anyone has other requests do not hesitate to ask :)

“Follow me.”

“I am Mobius M Mobius and you, are Loki.”

“You heard of me, I’m honoured?” Loki eyed him carefully.

“Do you know where I am taking you?”

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

“No, I’m taking you some place to talk.”

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie talkie.”

Loki eyed the man with utter disgust at the juvenile and irritating manner in which he spoke.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, bringing the two men to a room bare of all objects bar a table, two chairs on opposite sides of it and some stationary equipment.

Mobius indicated for Loki to sit at one side while he sat on the opposite side. “This is the TVA.”

“Okay.” “What do you want from me?”

“We need your unique Loki perspective.”

“I don’t believe you.” Loki shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you believe anyone. This Loki variant needs to be fixed.”

“But why is it the Loki variant when those misfit Midgardians clearly are the ones that altered time. How was I supposed to know that what I did was altering time when they were the ones altering it?” Loki pointed out. “The breaking of reality was not my doing, but theirs, have them fix it.” “But you don’t want us to do that, not really. Because if we did that, you would have to be imprisoned indefinitely as you are not the true timeline Loki and you know that you will face a less than pleasant end soon. But if you help us, you get to use all these traits you love so dearly to actually do something and not be destroyed. “ “What happens if I help you and fix all of this, let me guess, you’ll imprison me then?” “No, then you will be offered to stay here and work for us and fix mess after mess for...well, who knows how long. Time works a little differently here.”

“So, I help you, I‘m free to work for you, I don’t help you, I sit in uncomfortable clothes waiting to die of old age, which, if I am correct, may never actually happen here?” Loki checked.

At first, Loki did not care enough to turn around. He suspected it was either someone to forcibly get him to comply, in which case, the ignoring served its purpose of not acknowledging such or it was guards to bring him to holding once more or to his new prison cell, which again, he did not care to acknowledge. But then, he felt the urge to look, especially when he sensed someone looking at him. When he turned, his eyes widened. “What?” He tried to rise from his seat but was pushed back down by a guard that seemed to just appear beside him. He glared angrily at Mobius. “How?” “We knew there was a high probability you would say no, we really needed you to say yes, so we brought a little incentive here for you,” Mobius explained. “I have studied practically every moment of your life. There is one single being in the universe you will willingly do anything for.” He pointed behind Loki. “Your adoptive parents, your adopted brother, sure, you’ll do stuff for them, when it suits. You used to be far more compliant, but then you grew up and realised your brother mattered more. You killed your biological father but her...you would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” “No.” Both answered immediately.

“Yes, there’s enough time for domestic arguments at a later point, but we really need to get started on this.” Mobius focused on the matter at hand again.

“Wait, isn’t bringing her here altering the timeline even more so?” Loki pointed out. “I feel as though there’s a significant case of double-standards going on here.”

“It’s not really affecting the timeline because the timeline is already altered,” Mobius explained boredly.

“We need her here to get you to say yes so you fix the timeline you broke, ergo, she fits this timeline.”

“Wait, I am here because Loki broke a timeline so to fix the timeline he broke, we have to break the one I was in?” She clarified.

“By breaking the timeline I was on, which in itself is a breach of these rules?” She asked in disbelief.

“Exactly,” Loki confirmed.

“No,” Mobius stated a mere nanosecond after.

“It seems like it to me.” She looked at Loki for confirmation. “Me too.” Loki concurred.

“It will suffice.” Loki walked in and stood next to him.

Mobius remained looking forward as the elevator moved again. “I just need to grab a few things, and we will begin.”

Loki said nothing in response.

Mobius walked out of the elevator and the door remained open until his return a minute later, entirely in different attire and looking almost as though he had showered. He fiddled with his tie as he walked back in.

“Or else I am going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki swore with a smile.

#Loki fic #Wolfpawn #Threats and Collateral #One shot Loki

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athanasia-ia · 3 years

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Friend of the Devil - self para 1/?

tw: mentions of vomit, and parental neglect and abuse (+ small mention of drug use)

Yoojin’s skin tasted like vanilla pudding and metal. Each time she brought her fingers to her mouth, her tongue circled around the nails, and then teeth gently bit into the cuticles, nibbling on the broken skin. Each time a piece of skin was cut off, she’d roll it around her mouth, chew on it between her front teeth and then, with all the grace of an abandoned, unloved, unrefined soul, she spat it out. There were some alleviating factors. For one, she was sitting in almost complete darkness, surrounded by strangers whose attention was undivided. Their eyes were glued to the stage, and they were mesmerized by the loud, vibrant performance of the Circus. And, two, Yoojin did not know anyone there - for the first time in a long while, she was at a place where no one knew her and she knew no one. There was no need to pretend, no need to hide, no need to care, and the fact was liberating.

Or, at least, it should have been liberating. Despite her best effort, however, she could not help but feel the hairs at the back of her neck rise each time someone moved too suddenly or coughed or yelled in excitement. She could not help her skin breaking into pins and needles each time a shadow reminded her of someone - anyone - she knew. She could not get rid of the nausea either, which had nested in the pit of her stomach from the moment she got on the bus. Yoojin had vomited on the bus, and then once more when she had alighted. Then, when she was finally seated among the audience, as the show began, she kept suppressing the need to throw up again. She kept telling herself that it was all fine, and yet, nothing was fine.

How could it be? She laid her hands on her lap and laced her fingers together, staring off at the stage. One act had just finished, and the audience burst into an ovation, cheering and clapping while the performers bowed, nearly all the way to the ground, expressing their supposedly undying gratitude. Yoojin thought the man in the center had a strange expression, something between appreciation and arrogance. The young girl whose hand he was holding looked as if she had been rolling a piece of lemon around her mouth - her eyes smiled, but her mouth was cramping and twitching in what Yoojin could only describe as a sign of hysterics.

Yoojin’s hands began to shake. Why was she there? Her attempt at giving herself a sense of normalcy - a charade, really, a weak attempt at living a life her parents should have given her - was tumbling down like a house of cards. Her parents...What would happen when she went back home? Just how mad would her father be? She had gone away all by herself, without telling a soul. But, she had been begging to see the circus. For months, since she’d seen they would be coming to Seoul, she had begged and begged, promised to be good (whatever that meant in her parents dictionary), and she had done fairly well in school as well. She had even gone as far as promising to get into a good university. What a foolish girl she was. When had they ever given her anything? They gave her a life, clothes and food, they said - and that should have sufficed.

Yoojin squeezed her hands into fists, biting down hard onto her bottom lip. Father would be mad, he really would. Mother, too. How long would she be grounded? Was he going to hit her again? Probably. Her stomach churned, sending upwards a shot of acid which she could now feel at the back of her throat and the root of her tongue. She swallowed as much saliva as she could, hoping the rising nausea would stop before she vomited all over herself and the people sitting in front of her.

For the next act, they were looking for a volunteer from the audience. Yoojin sat still, only moving her left hand to bite into the cuticles again. She tore one off and tasted blood. Countless arms went up in the air, children and adults alike asking to be picked as the light searched through the audience. Eventually it stopped and much to everyone’s dissatisfaction, it landed on Yoojin, causing the young girl to freeze.

She shook her head. Embarrassed, she looked down, letting long locks of ink black hair fall over her face, but once she was picked, they were not going to change their mind. The audience began to clap, cheering her on instead of the performers. Someone pushed some hair off her face and spoke to her in a gentle, albeit excited voice, saying she should give it a try. Allegedly, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be part of a circus act. But, Yoojin's entire life was a circus act, she thought. So, what was so special about it? Now that she thought of it, she never should have come here in the first place. Someone else nudged her shoulder, begrudging her for causing a scene and making the performers uncomfortable.

Eventually, God knew how, Yoojin had been forced to get up. Hands and arms moved and pushed her forward, and her legs worked against her. It appeared that her feet had acquired a will of their own and they moved onward, excited to be a part of something bigger, something greater. The rest of her body was as of yet stiff, and her heart was pounding in her head. Her hands were soaked in her own sweat, and she could feel beads of it rolling down the curve of her spine. The noises and the lights around her only made her sicker, but her feet pressed on until one of the performers helped her get onto the stage. As the act was prepared, and explained to the audience, Yoojin kept staring down at the floor, at her toes, at her filthy, worn out sneakers, wishing the ground would open and swallow her alive. In fact, if the end of the world happened right this very moment, she’d have run into the fiery embrace of Hell voluntarily, if it meant this whole charade would stop.

What if it were a nightmare? Yes, perhaps she was sleeping. This thought excited her, and she peeked through her hair, scanning the stage and the audience. They could have all been made up, nothing but a fantasy conjured by her wild, seventeen year old mind. But, she knew better. And she especially knew it was all real when she saw the box in which they were to place her. The view of the casket-like contraption immediately caused her heart to swell in pain, sending her mind into an abyss of old memories: the dilapidated closet in her grandparents’ house where she had been locked by her mother time and time again whenever she did anything remotely naughty.

The thought of being put in that box sent her into her own hysterics, which ebbed liked the works of a tide.

“No,” Yoojin tried to say, pulling her arm out from a performer who was gently nudging her to get closer. The smell of the closet was right there in her nose: the dust, the old clothes sprinkled with cheap perfume. She could hear the clapping of a moth’s wings as it, too, tried to escape the primitive prison. As the audience cheered and the performer kept trying to get her to stand closer to the box, Yoojin managed to utter a “No!”, “Let me go!” and “Leave me alone”, but they just wouldn’t stop. She did see a serious look of concern shared between two performers, and she thought she heard one of them say if they should maybe pick someone else, but it was too late.

Someone nudged Yoojin again and she pushed the woman as hard she could, down on the floor, yelling “LET ME GO!” The audience suddenly fell quiet, and the young girl who had been pushed yelped out in pain, rubbing the back of her head. She looked up at Yoojin. Her face held an expression of disdain and disbelief. She mouthed “What the Hell’s wrong with you?”

And the lights. The damn lights were on the stage, centered around Yoojin. Nearly blinded by their scorching intensity, she breathed out a half-scream and knelt down for a moment, wishing the world to stop spinning. If it could be swallowed by a black hole, or if the angels could horn their trumpets, or if the planet just exploded - she wished for all of that. Someone helped the other woman up and someone else placed a hand on Yoojin's shoulder, but she screamed out a "fuck off!" and got up. Somehow, she found strength to get up and run towards an exit. Any exit would do, as long as she lights would stop following her and the people would stop staring.

She never should have come. Her parents were right to not let her. She was not made for this world and its parade of colours and people. Regretful of this entire thing, terrified of what her parents would do when she came home after an entire day of absence, she rushed right out of the building, and made it just around the corner before she threw up whatever was left in her stomach. Her mouth tasted foul, of acid and cheap breakfast and something else which she could not quite define.

How was she supposed to go home now? Perhaps...Perhaps she did not have to. But, she pushed that thought away as fast as she could. She wiped her mouth and straightened her back. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them her eyes landed on a flier on the ground. She picked it up and flipped it over but, aside from strange symbols - was it a foreign language? some sort of alphabet? - there was nothing else on it. However, for whatever reason, she shoved the flier into her pocket and walked away. Maybe no one even realized I was gone, she thought. But, the late afternoon was already setting and her school must have called by now, informing her mother that Yoojin did not come to class.

She squeezed her hands into fists again and thought if she could just get high, the world would, at least slightly, become a more tolerable place.

#♛—reflections on the past;self para #IAWrite Challenge

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susiequaz12 · 4 years

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Carrot Top- 5: Breaking Point

Heyyy! Look who got the next part edited! I’m a bit excited for what I have planned next for this honestly. I hope it all turns out as good as it is in my head. Just a reminder that Andrew is called boy a lot, but that’s just to differentiate between him and Splice. (Andrew’s 20).

Tags: @imagination1reality0 and @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi (let me know if you want to be added)

CW: Caretaker whumper, blood, tied up, stress position, treating wounds.

- - -

Andrew couldn’t breathe.

It had been a few minutes since the water had stopped, but it felt as if it was still rushing down. The liquid had spilled into his lungs, burning his throat and nostrils.

Splice sat back on the stool as he watched Andrew sprawled across the table, chest heaving up and down. His vision continued to go in and out of focus, every ounce of his body throbbing and every muscle shaking. He was so tired, so exhausted, he just wanted to sleep.

A good-size pile of blood had formed underneath his hand, and it was still oozing steadily. The cuts across his torso had dripped slightly, but they weren’t very deep.

Splice had packed everything back up into the box except for the coils of rope and the chains. And the knife impaling Andrew’s hand of course.

They were almost done. Almost.

Splice could have gladly continued for another hour, but there was one word that kept him from going further. One word, that had come out of Andrew’s mouth.

He had given him a slight pause underneath the torrent of water to catch his breath. Instead of using that time to breathe, he took the opportunity to utter a single word: “stop”.

That was it.

It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a beg, but it was something. And it felt good. It was enough for Splice.

He had found a breaking point.

He rose from his stool and came towards the table.

“Well I sure learned a lot today.” He smiled to himself as Andrew’s eyes grew wide in anticipation of more fear. He gripped the handle of the knife in his hand and chuckled as the boy tensed up, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I hope you learned something too.”

Splice tore the knife out of Andrew’s hand. As the blade left and the wound became fresh to the air, the pain became anew and the boy screamed. It had numbed to the point of just a throbbing ache, but now it exploded, sending fireworks of pain throughout his whole body.

Now that nothing kept him pinned to the table, Andrew’s lanky shape slid off of it like oozing mud and he crashed to the floor. He cradled his hand to his chest, whimpering. As he lay on his side he couldn’t stop the vomit from coming out of his throat, spilling all the water that had been poured down his mouth and nose onto the floor in front of him.

“Come on, we’re not finished yet.” Splice stated, grabbing Andrew by the ankle, pulling him away from the table to the center of the room.

Andrew whined, too tired to retort something.

Splice had another bottle in his hand that he set on the ground as he grabbed underneath the boy’s arms, lifting him up into a sitting position. He knelt behind Andrew and placed a steady hand on his shoulder to keep him from toppling over. He uncapped the bottle and poured about half of its contents down Andrew’s back. He hissed through his teeth, arching away from the liquid as it soaked into the raw skin.

Andrew cried out in protest as he was laid backwards onto the man’s lap. Splice’s hand rested across his forehead, keeping him still as the remaining contents of the bottle washed over his chest. It seeped into every crevice, and stung from where it poured into the open wounds. Andrew whimpered, trying to wiggle himself free from the continuous pain.

“Now now,” Splice hushed. “We don’t want any of this getting infected do we?”

A weak hand attempted to push Splice’s away as the man brought a rag down to the boy’s chest.

“Don-don’ttouch me-” He slurred.

“Shhhh, calm down carrot top.” Splice stated. “Now’s not the time to fight.” The rag wiped away the blood that had caked around the boy’s chest, scrubbing at the wounds, causing Andrew to squirm and whine.

“Though I am pleased.” Splice stated. “You fought hard. Most of the guards would have begged for mercy after a single whipping.”

Andrew grumbled as his hand was grasped and bandaged up. The thick white strips wrapped around the palm of his hand. A few seconds later, blood was already starting to seep through, but it’d have to do for now.

Splice pushed the boy forward, and then lifted underneath him by his armpits, dragging him towards the wall. Andrew flopped onto his side as Splice’s grip was released. He nudged him over onto his stomach and pulled his legs out from underneath him. Splice pulled one of the longer lengths of rope and began tying the boy’s legs together. Tightly.

The cord wound around his ankles, and then crept up his calves, stopping just below his knees. Every few twists, Splice would pull the rope tighter, jerking Andrew’s legs and forcing a groan from his mouth. Once Splice was satisfied, he moved him to a spot on the floor where there were two metal rings across from each other, and used them to chain Andrew’s calves to the ground.

Splice’s hand gripped the back of the boy’s hair as he pulled Andrew up on his knees. He swayed back and forth but the restraints on his legs kept him from moving anywhere. Splice grabbed his wrist and attached it to the end of a chain that he then connected to a hook in the wall. He did the same with his other wrist and Andrew whimpered as it was grabbed, longing to cling the injured limb to his chest. The boy knelt there on the ground as his arms were outstretched to either side of him. Splice pulled the chains tighter until Andrew thought his limbs would be pulled out of their sockets.

Andrew groaned low through his stomach as the muscles in his arms shook, his chest heaving. Once his arms were outstretched tightly enough and secured, Splice came back with the rope again. The boy shook his head, eyes blurry and unfocused as he tried to protest.

“Oh come on now. This is just another test. A way for me to once again assess your limits.” Splice stated.

The rope passed around his neck, wrapping around it a few times. Each coil caused Andrew’s eyes to grow wider, and his chest to heave harder. Splice grabbed the end of the rope and forced his head backwards. He pulled, arching Andrew’s back, stretching his neck further until Andrew started to whine before tying it securely to the ropes around his ankles, locking it in place.

Once Andrew realized he was completely immobilized, the panic set in. He had to remind himself just to remember to breathe. Pain throbbed in every corner and crevice of his body as the ropes seem to constrict tighter and tighter around each limb, and his muscles stretched further, feeling like they’d snap like a rubber band.

Out of the corner of a tear filled eye he saw Splice rise and heard him move across the room.

How long would he be left like this? Was this a set up for another beating, or just a cruel punishment for disobedience? Andrew didn’t want to find out, he just wanted out. Out of this claustrophobia of ropes and contraptions. He felt like a circus animal, like something on display.

As Andrew heard the door across the room slide open he tried to yell or shout something. Some obscenity, a protest, anything, but he was too tired. He only heard Splice say one last thing before the door shut behind him.

“Now, how long until you beg?”

- - -

Splice sat in the chair in his office, his leg crossed atop his lap, chin in his hand. He gazed at the computer screen connected to the camera that had been poised in the same position of the room for what felt like ages.

Splice had been watching him. He’d been stuck in that position for almost an hour, surely the boy should have said something by now.

Yet as Splice gazed at the poor figure, he couldn’t help but find it beautiful. He was so helpless, so weak, and entirely under his control. The man hoped he still had a bit more fight in him though as that was far more entertaining.

Andrew’s skin had gone a grey, pale, clammy color. His hair had long faded to a bleached white, the dark freckles on his skin now devoid of color. Those were clear signs of his power exhaustion, and Splice was glad the boy had at least attempted to release himself from those bonds.

His fingers and toes were all blue and numb, and you could barely register that he was even breathing. If not for all the contraptions holding him up, he would be an unconscious heap on the floor.

However, despite how long he’d been stuck like that in that position, despite the amounts of pain and exhaustion he was in, the boy had yet to beg.

He cried a bit towards the beginning, soft sobs and shallow whimpers. But Andrew quickly realized that just wasted his breath, and had decided to instead, let his exhaustion take over.

The Doctor that had been watching the screen with Splice came and gently put a hand on the man’s shoulder to get his attention. His other hand held a clipboard jumbled with a messy mound of papers.

“Sir, he’s unstable. Release him and let him rest before you continue any further.”

Splice reached up and gripped the hand the was on his shoulder, his fingers locking around the wrist. He pulled the Doctor’s arm forward, yanking him over his shoulder until he could speak directly into the Doctor’s ear.

“Are you telling me what to do? Did you forget who gives the orders here?”

The man stammered, trying to maintain his calm. “No sir- I was suggesting that if you want him to stay alive, then it’d be best to-”

Splice cut him off.

“Ten more minutes.”

He released his grip on the Doctor’s wrist, and the man slowly backed up to the opposite side of the room, eagerly checking his watch. Splice had asked for ten more minutes before- twenty minutes ago. How long would this continue for?

After those ten minutes, Andrew stopped breathing.

You could no longer see hitched attempts at breaths, as his chest and stomach fought against the straining of his muscles. His arms no longer trembled, he’d stopped quivering at each hitch of attempted air. He was completely, and perfectly still.

Splice stared for a minute before realizing that the boy, indeed, wasn’t going to move or beg, or do anything- before he got up out of his chair and walked out the door giving the doctor a command.

“Release him.”

#whump #whump writing #whump fic #oc #original writing #carrot top #stress position #caretaker

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hencethebravery · 4 years

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#writersmth2020 • (12) meet cute

(12) meet cute [ouat, captain charming]

author’s note: about 2 yrs ago i started a captain charming enchanted au that i never finished (surprise, surprise). i had actually stopped writing right before the two first meet, and this seemed like a good opportunity to start working on it again. will i finish it now? no idea, but i enjoyed hopping back in because i was very excited about it initially and i kinda hate that it’s unfinished. you can read the first chapter on tumblr or the archive. oh also for @phiralovesloki, who never gave up on me or this stupid story.

+ Killian’s adult life, his pre-Prince-from-another-land life, starts like this: With a handful of unfortunate “misunderstandings” with local law enforcement; a worrisome drinking habit that he often ignored; a nebulous, unexamined fear that he’s been left behind; and a large number of fleeting, meaningless relationships that had only become so due to his own infuriating habit of allowing them to be. So, yes, according to most, Killian Jones was living what some would refer to as a “sad life” (or perhaps a lonely life, at the very least).

He might respond that he in fact “liked it that way,” but any discerning sort of person would be able to suss out that lie rather quickly.

If his life were like one of his mother’s wretched storybooks, the otherwise mundane, rainy evening in October when he almost totaled his bike would be considered the “incendiary incident.” The moment when the story really begins—a suggestion that all of the blather leading up to this has been nothing more than literary window dressing. There is an argument to be made however, that the moment in question would indeed feel less like the “inciting action” had it lacked the proper and necessary context.

The real trouble with saturated, dark city roads at night is the fact that they become nothing more than garbled reflections of the circus of light that surrounds them. While they might be perfectly black and impermeable during the day, in darkness they become quite a bit more ominous. Despite the most logical parts of you screaming otherwise, there’s still a niggling concern that if you’re not careful you could take a wrong step and tumble into the odd, rippling echo of an inverted city you’ve never seen before.

Killian’s traversed these same streets on a number of previous evenings, and through worse weather than this, but for whatever reason, on this particular night, it seems to be unusually bad. The wind whips between the buildings creating paralyzing pockets of frigid air, as the drains clog with garbage and leaves, causing the puddles to become dangerously deep; those confounding, reflected surfaces becoming even more unknown and void-like.

He’s only a few blocks from home, on the cusp of admitting to himself the precariousness of current travel conditions when he sees it—a gleam out of the corner of his eye. City lights do not gleam. Soft, yellow light glowing from behind long, sheer curtains also hold no unique, eye-catching sheen. Speeding through city streets on the back of a motorbike requires a certain degree of concentration. If you’re the sort to become easily distracted by twinkling lights and the occasional odd bit of human movement, you’re not fit to be driving. It’s why he thinks of it as a “gleam,” rather than say… a light you might see emanating from a billboard or a traffic stop. Not to mention the fact that if this were any other normal kind of illumination, it wouldn’t have caused him to become distracted enough to completely miss the crater-like pothole on the road in front of him.

This strange new land is loud—loud enough that he would almost feel compelled to clap his hands over his ears… if not for the bright, flashing lights that look nothing like any open flame he’s ever seen. He would be tempted to shut his eyes… if not for the sight of the tall, tall, tall vertical structures that he would maybe call castles if he weren’t so terribly confident that he wasn’t in his kingdom any longer and they likely weren’t castles at all. If the sights and the sounds weren’t enough to convince him, the throngs of oddly dressed people staring at him as if he were the strange one certainly was. It takes him a few moments amidst the chaos of his new surroundings, but he remembers all the same—the sickeningly red, wet sheets; the sound of his newborn daughter’s cries, and that final glimpse of her in the arms of some nefarious, hooded figure, disappearing into a swirling vortex.

He breaks into a run, his cape flapping heavily behind him.

He has no earthly idea where he’s running to; only that he’s a father who’s lost his only daughter and he is entirely unmoored. Perhaps for the first time in his life. There’s no specific destination in mind but speed has to be a factor, right? After all, he jumped right in after them. Maybe they’re not so far ahead that he can’t catch up, so long as he runs. He’s finally stumbled on a somewhat quieter street when he witnesses the strange metal contraption only just manage to skirt a rather large hole in the ground before emitting an ear-piercing screech and collapsing onto its side. He’s stunned for a moment, and wonders if perhaps it’s some kind of animal, but when it fails to move and he notices the man who seems to have fallen underneath, he rushes over, his curiosity temporarily waylaid in favor of playing in a more familiar role.

It’s difficult to discern in the dark, but at a glance the man in question is dressed almost entirely in black (which doesn’t seem smart in any land), with short, unkempt hair that’s grown over his ears and across his forehead. For a few moments he’s worried that the man is dead, but he emits a small groan and David springs into action, pushing the “beast” away and pulling him off the street.

As he slowly regains awareness he curses himself for having gone on what feels like a historic bender. Because how could his head hurt this much otherwise? And it’s only when he starts to feel the numerous aches growing elsewhere, along with a distinct lack of dry, soft bed sheets that he starts to remember the painful, confusing reality of a few minutes previous—that bloody gleam, the pothole, the momentary sensation of dreadful weightlessness. Christ, his bike.

“Hey,” he hears (along with a mild, worrisome ringing), as if from a distance, “Hang in there, okay? You’re gonna be okay.” And then, at a softer pitch, “...I think.”

“Ugh,” Killian manages, a nauseous feeling building in his stomach, “please tell me you didn’t call an ambulance.”

Even in his post-nearly-flattened-by-his-bike state, the thought of cumbersome medical bills on top of the repairs he was certain needed to be made on the bike was a whole other kind of headache he could happily do without.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I don’t know what that is,” replied the deep, noticeably pleasant voice floating somewhere above him.

In any other circumstance there likely would’ve been a short chuckle after that, but Killian feared some for the state of his ribs at the moment, and merely grunted some more. “Bully for you then mate,” mumbling, “overpriced nonsense. I’ll be fine.”

This is one of my favorite parts of this story—no matter how many times I’ve heard it. The first time he laid eyes on him. Before all the mess that came after (myself included); before he started to realize the kind of story he was in, the only thing he could see (so he says) was dad’s eyes. Which, as a teenage girl, I am fully ready to believe. And dad does have pretty eyes.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the help,” Killian started, wincing from the streetlight overhead, “but is that a cape you’re wearing?”

Not just a cape (although really, who just wore a cape these days)—the man hovering over him, his rescuer, for all intents and purposes, who he was slowly beginning to realize might have actually been the cause of his current predicament, was draped in an absurd amount of Renaissance faire finery. From the fur-lined cape to the loose-fitting blouse, Killian began to suspect that the man in question had not been trying to be funny when he claimed to have no knowledge of ambulances. Or perhaps, Killian began to think worriedly, he had ridden in a fair number himself.

#@hencethewriter #writersmonth2020 #captain charming #cc: saved my life #idk gang #i might have to finish this thing

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