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#people will hear that and realize the boy isn’t evil
silassinclair · 3 days
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Hello there! So this is my first time requesting since i just started following you. So let me tell you, your Yandere Wild West Outlaw got me absolutley smitten and obsessed! i love your writing so much!!
Anyway back to the main subject and on with the request.
What about Maddox with an EXTRA Sassy darling. Like, full of and fluent on sarcasm (the kind that makes you go: DAAAAMN). The darlin' has a sharp tongue and retorts for any kind of bad words might be thrown towards her (and maybe, way later in the relationship, towards Maddox too). From really polite f-u's to tge sthraightfoward ones, she can reply and roast anyone.
Oh and a bonus head cannon (a little something that came to mind) after reading about the wedding rings. I can totally imagine the darling going from questioning about where Maddox "buys" all the weird gifts to just becoming immune, later in the relationship. Let's say Maddox comes back (to the temporary) home with a very strange object, like A very expensive porcelain/china vase and the darling just goes: "oh thank you. Please put it on the table. I'll be done with the soup and then take care of it"
Yea anyway i'll stop rambling now.
Sorry for the bad english. It's not my first language and it is past midnight here.
Have a great day/night ✨
We love sassy girlboss Y/n’s here. Thank you for submitting this request anon!! Hope it is to your liking <3
Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Sassy Reader
CW// Y/n is a bully, Maddox gets his ego hurt, Maddox gets angry, Maddox is dumb
Masterlist
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Maddox immediately knew that you were a spitfire when he first had a conversation with you. You weren’t the typical damsel in distress who when captured by the evil outlaw you’re forced into submission.
Oh no. There’s not a drop of submission in your body.
Maddox thought you would be useful to have around. You’d be his own personal maid! Maybe even like a housewife. But no…
“Clean my laundry if ya’ wanna live to see anotha’ day.”
“Alright alright, calm your tits. What should I clean first? The shirt with sweat marinated into the fabric or the undies with shit stains?”
“THERE AIN’T ANY SHIT ON MY UNDIES MISSY! IT’S DIRT!”
You’re a total pain in the ass. Whenever he tried to act cool or intimidating you’d immediately shoot it down with your words.
He hates it when you ruin his moment in front of other people.
He got really pissed after you made a jab at him in the middle of a duel.
“It’s just you an’ me boy. But we both know who’ll be standin’ by the end of this.”
“Hopefully it isn’t you.”
“SHUT UP Y/N! GET YOUR TUSH BACK INSIDE, I’M TRYNA’ HAVE A DUEL!”
Punishes you by tying you up and leaving you outside for the night.
He ignores your complaints about coyotes or rattlesnakes. He needs you to shut your mouth and give him some peace.
After that night of punishment though he noticed how you wouldn’t really talk to him often.
“Go shine my boots. And I don’t wanna hear a single complaint outta ya’.”
“Okay.”
“…”
Okaay so he fucked up.
The days drag on so slow without your quips and jabs! He never realized how funny the things you said are now that you’re gone.
Well you’re not gone, just more closed off now. But you may as well be gone. This isn’t like you at all to be so quiet and reclusive!
Maybe he was too rough in you? He did kill your Father and force you to be his housewife maid.
So doing what he does worst, he apologizes.
“Hey, ‘bout that one time I left ya’ outside. I realize that was silly of me cus ya’ coulda gotten eaten. So that was my bad.”
“So you’re sorry?”
“Yeah.”
He’s brushing Jasper’s fur, telling the horse how good he is. Cleaning Jasper is the only chore Maddox likes to do himself.
You’re sitting on a tree stump watching the man talk to his horse.
“You know Jasper’s a horse right?”
“Oh really? I thought he was a dog.”
The small smirk on your face after his little quip made Maddox feel like a million bucks.
That’s when he learned that he likes seeing you happy.
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After the “Marriage”: (Read about it Here)
“Uhm what’s all this?” You ask your unofficial husband.
“This-”
He puts a brown sack down on the table. The sound of the contents inside clang together as he dumps it all out. A dozen chipped fine china plates come out.
“Is how we make our house a home sweetness. I hear housewives go crazy over fancy dishes n’ shit.”
Maddox stands there with a proud grin underneath his masked face. (He still hasn’t showed you his face yet btw.) He was like a dog showing his owner how good he is at retrieving sticks when playing fetch.
You look at him with an unimpressed quirk of your brow. “And where did you happen to come across such fine china may I ask?”
He shrugs and comes around the table to wrap his arms around you from behind.
“A buddy gave em to me.” His deep voice reverberates in your ear.
“Did you hold your so called buddy at gunpoint?”
“Would you be mad if I said yes?”
You groan and shakes your head back and forth. “Maddox you know you can’t just go around taking people’s stuff! Now the sheriff was probably alerted and is looking for you now. And why did you steal a bunch of plates!? Jasper can’t carry all this shit! We should only have what is necessary for survival you brute. Are you even listening to me!?”
But he only looks at you with lovesick eyes as you complain about how stupid he is.
“Princess did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you’re mad at me?” His hands go lower down your waist.
Rolling your eyes you smack his hands and leave his embrace, leaving him standing by himself like a kicked puppy.
“I have a meal to make so set the table with those plates you got. And no more stealing people’s things!”
“Yes ma’am.”
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I appreciate all the requests that come in!! But I just want to remind all of you about my rules and that I do NOT write Y/n as a specific race. My writing is for everybody to enjoy!! She’s race ambiguous. Many people request that I write a Black Y/n but I’m not black so I won’t be doing that. If I write for a specific race then I feel like I’d just be stereotyping what black people are supposed to act like. So please don’t ask me to write for a Y/n that is a specific race. Thank you.
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hongcherry · 3 months
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you're my tomorrow | j.ww
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At first, you didn't think anything of it. Jeon Wonwoo was just a customer. However, his daily visits to your bookstore café started to become the highlight of your days. The little conversations here and there made you happy. It's because of him that you always look forward to tomorrow.
☕️ Pairing: customer!Wonwoo x cafeOwner!Reader
☕️ Rating/Genres/AUs: PG; Fluff with a sprinkle of angst, slice of life; Strangers to lovers, cafe au, non!idol au
☕️ Warnings: Reader is smaller than Wonu, ultra soft boi and supportive wonu *swoons*... can't think of anything else but ofc lmk otherwise
☕️ Word Count: 5k
☕️ Author's Note: Thank you to @justsomekpopstuff for giving me this plot idea! I def got carried away and wrote way more than I thought I would lol. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone thank JJ for the storyline ✨ Also, thank you Jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) for beta'ing and giving me amazing suggestions for some edits! 💗
Happy holidays to all (if you celebrate)! Stay safe and have a nice time 💖
seventeen masterlist | main masterlist
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Monday
When the door chimes a little after eight at night, you know it’s him.
He strolls in, usual glasses perched on his nose and jacket layered with a few specks of snow. His hair isn’t styled, soft waves adorning his head. He looks like the average person who’s winding down from a long day at work. From the two and a half months you’ve known him, this is his usual state on Monday nights.
Wonwoo entered your cozy bookstore café nearly three months ago. His order rarely varies, and sometimes he orders a drink he could get anywhere else. Yet, for some reason, he always comes here.
And throughout those months, you’ve realized you always look forward to his presence.
“Busy evening?” he asks while stepping up to the counter.
You’re in the middle of packing a pastry for another customer and quickly hand off the bag to your coworker.
“More so than usual; it’s finals week,” you reply with a small smile.
Wonwoo glances around, nodding as he takes in the sight of many tables occupied by people with textbooks, laptops, and notes scattered around them.
“I don’t miss those days,” he chuckles.
“I don’t either,” you agree. “So, what can I get you today?”
Wonwoo peers up at the menu behind you. You wonder why he does so since he usually rotates between three drinks.
“A hot chocolate,” he replies.
“Oh?” You can’t hide your surprise.
He grins, tilting his head slightly. “Should I have ordered something else?”
“No!” you hastily say. “You can order whatever you want.”
He pulls out a bill that exceeds the cost of the order and slides it to your side of the counter.
“Just thought I’d try something new for the holidays,” he explains, then leaves to find a seat.
“Wait!” you call out, bill in your hand. “You paid too much!”
If Wonwoo can hear you, he pretends he doesn’t. He continues his journey and ends up in the corner next to a window by the bookshelves. He retrieves a book from his bag, opening it where his bookmark rests.
Your hand falls to the counter with a heavy sigh. You guess you’ll give him his change when you give him his order. Normally, you’d call customer’s names or numbers for pick-up. But Wonwoo is different.
Wonwoo’s one of the rare customers who gets his order hand-delivered.
After completing the transaction in the system and making his drink, you grab his change from the register and walk to his table.
“One hot chocolate,” you announce and set the cup down along with his change.
“I’ll take the drink,” he says and brings it closer, blatantly ignoring the cash next to it.
“Wonwoo,” you say.
“Yn,” he answers, eyes flickering up.
There’s a small smirk on his lips that makes your insides churn.
“You overpaid,” you simply state.
“So?”
You move his money closer. “So, take it back.”
Wonwoo slides the money back to you. “Consider it a tip.”
“You know we don’t take tips here,” you say, moving it again.
“You should. You all work hard.”
“People are already struggling as is. If they can find solace in a little place like this, that’s all that matters.”
Wonwoo rests his hands on top of yours, which is still on the money, and slides it back to you.
“Then consider it a holiday present. From me to you,” he smiles.
His hand feels warm on yours. Your eyes move down, but you wish you hadn’t.
His large hand nearly covers yours, making you feel small yet protected. You can tell from his build that he’s strong and fit. You wonder what it’d be like to get a hug from him.
“I—” you struggle to speak.
“It’d make me happy.”
You sigh, nodding hesitantly.
He slowly removes his hand. “Thank you.”
“N-No problem,” you say, gathering the change and pocketing it. “Enjoy your book and drink.”
“Thanks,” Wonwoo replies and picks up his book. He holds it up with one hand and uses the other to sip his hot chocolate.
You make your way back to the front, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand and the feeling in your chest.
Tuesday
Wonwoo shows up at the same time but orders one of his usual drinks. It's a different book than yesterday and judging by the similar cover, it's probably the next one in the series.
Ever since Wonwoo “gifted” you money, you’ve been trying to think of something to get him. It’s a little tough considering you don’t actually know him. You know he works a duty-heavy job and that he lives nearby. You know he has a lot of friends despite him being so quiet. Although you’ve never seen Wonwoo and his friends in the same room, they often come with him to the café in duos or trios.
You also learned he’s an avid cat and gaming lover.
You were surprised about the latter.
“Is he also a student?” one of your new coworkers, Sebastian, asks thirty minutes after Wonwoo’s arrival.
You wipe off the cup in your hand and set it on the counter, calling the number associated with it.
“No, he graduated already,” you reply and watch him practice making a drink.
“You seem to know him. Are you two friends?” he wonders.
You lean against the counter. “I don’t think so. He’s just a regular here, so I’ve learned a few things here and there.”
“Ah,” he replies and hands you the finished drink.
You take the drink and start taking a sip to see how well he did.
“You should ask him out.”
You choke on the drink, eyes wide as you reach for a napkin to wipe your chin.
“T-That wouldn’t be appropriate,” you stammer.
He laughs and takes the drink from you. “He’s not working here, and it’s not like you’re paying for him to come by. I don’t see how it’s inappropriate.”
You sigh, knowing he has a point. It’s not that you’re not attracted to Wonwoo, but it feels almost out of line. Plus, you’re not sure if you like Wonwoo, or just like the thought of him. You haven’t been in a relationship in years and would be lying to say you don’t miss having a partner.
You miss being able to share life memories with someone.
Wonwoo’s handsome. He’s kind, funny, caring, and fit—not that that’s a big deciding factor, but it sure is a bonus. Though, do you just want someone with those attributes, or do you want him?
“Just think about it,” Sebastian suggests and greets a new customer.
Your eyes drop to your feet in thought.
Part of you worries you’d make it awkward if he says no. It’s not like you are friends, so you won’t be ruining a friendship, but you enjoy seeing his face every day. His simple presence is one of the highlights of your days.
Plus, you don’t even know if he has a partner already!
You groan, putting a hand over your forehead as you try to organize your thoughts.
“Bad night?” a familiar voice asks from over the counter.
You drop your hand to see who it is.
Wonwoo stands with his empty cup and saucer, book tucked under his arm.
“Ah, uh, not really,” you reply sheepishly. You can’t disclose the true reason for your state; you’ve never been the best liar either.
“Well, I hope whatever is troubling you passes soon,” he says and holds out his dirty dishes.
“You could’ve left them on the table,” you say, grabbing them from his grasp. Your fingers touch his, and it’s difficult not to feel like a silly teenager in the movies, especially with your current predicament.
“I know,” he smiles, “but I wanted to tell you bye, and you seem busy.”
You set the items in the sink before addressing him again. “Still… But thank you anyway.”
“The drink was great, as always.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, slowly stepping away from the counter.
You smile, nodding. “See you.”
His eyes linger on you before he turns and exits your café.
Wednesday
Wonwoo comes and goes as usual. It’s a busy night and you’re unable to speak to him much. It’s not the first time that has happened, so he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. Regardless, you wish you could’ve spoken to him more.
That night was spent browsing the internet for the perfect gift for Wonwoo.
From gaming headsets to the top-rated books on Goodreads, you felt like you scoured every possible present for him. But none of them satisfied you.
It wasn’t until you came across bookmarks in your recommended section that you decided what to get him.
Maybe a bookmark was too boring, but you figured it was the safer option.
You spend over an hour searching for the right bookmark, but again, you come up short. They’re either too flowery, too plain, or too cliché.
In the end, you opt for making your own.
You find some DIY bookmark kits online and place an order. Trying not to second guess your decision, you call it a night—going to sleep as you brainstorm what to put on the item.
Thursday
“Do people actually read these books?” Wonwoo asks during your break, which you decided to spend with him.
Your gaze follows his to the wall lined with several bookshelves.
You chuckle, “Sometimes.”
“You said you got these books donated?” he asks, recalling an earlier conversation you had when he was a newcomer.
“Most of them,” you hum.
“Does your offer still stand?” he asks.
You turn to him with puzzlement.
He smiles. “You said I could take a book if I left one.”
“Oh,” you laugh out of embarrassment for forgetting. “Of course.”
Wonwoo nods and then stands up. He takes two steps to his right, then carefully plucks a book from a high shelf. He replaces the empty space with his own book.
Something about the simple act has your heartwarming. Or maybe it’s the way he’s so gentle with the books as if they’ll cry if moved too aggressively. You wonder if he’d touch you as carefully, if given the chance. Would you find comfort in his caresses the way you think the books would if they were personified?
Wonwoo sits in his seat again, perching his glasses higher after they slide down.
“Have you read this?” he asks, twisting the book so the cover faces you.
You analyze it for a moment, but the title doesn’t ring a bell.
Shaking your head, “Unfortunately not. I haven’t had the chance to read in a long while.”
“I guess running a business is time-consuming,” he teases lightly.
“How do you find the time? Didn’t you say your work is hard, too?” you ask.
He leans back in his seat, book resting in his lap.
“I make time,” he simply says. “I found it’s important to make time for things I care about.”
He’s staring at you in a way that makes you think there’s more to his words than he lets on.
“T-That’s a good habit, I suppose,” you say.
“When was the last time you did something for yourself, and not the café?” he questions.
Your brows furrow in deep thought. You thought the answer would come easily, but it doesn’t.
“I—I can’t remember,” you answer with your gaze down, a little dejected at the self-reflection.
Wonwoo sits up and leans toward you. He lowers himself until he can snag eye contact.
“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he reassures. “I know what it’s like to bury myself in my work.”
“You probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” you laugh awkwardly.
Wonwoo shakes his head.
“It’s good to be dedicated to something. Your efforts are clearly visible,” he gestures to your crowded café. “But at the same time, it’s also good to not burn yourself out.”
You nod in agreement. “I’ll try to be better.”
“Not for me though. For you,” he says.
You offer him a kind smile that he returns. “For me.”
Friday
Wonwoo doesn’t come at his usual time.
You finally finished his gift last night and are eager to show it to him. You try to suppress your excitement, but it’s difficult to calm your mix of emotions.
As you made it, you realized it was the first time doing something non-work related. Usually, you’d be researching new recipes, doing finances, or simply sleeping. Last night, however, you were doing something personal.
Wonwoo’s words from yesterday ring loudly in your ears.
It felt good to take a break from work.
It felt good to feel like an actual person and not some workaholic machine.
Some say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe you’d still be stuck in your cycle, if not for him.
You wish he were here. 
Wonwoo’s usually a punctual man, so being this late sends uneasy nerves coursing through you. But, the idea of him not showing up at all is even more worrisome. 
Perhaps he’s working overtime and will be here soon. He’s never missed a day.
Yet, as minutes turn into hours, you begin losing hope.
Excitement transitions into worry. This isn’t his typical behavior. You don’t have a way to contact him either.
Is he hurt? Does he need help? Did you say something wrong yesterday? Did he finally decide he doesn’t like your café anymore?
Perhaps you’re too caught up with giving him your gift that you’re overreacting. It could simply be a late, late night at work for him.
He’ll be here.
Even if he just grabs his drink to go, which he’s done in the past, he’ll be here.
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The bell chimes as your last coworker leaves for the night.
Wonwoo’s present sat abandoned in your locker throughout your shift. There’s an odd discomfort in your chest as you stare at it now. 
You’re not sure if it originates from being unable to gift it and see Wonwoo’s reaction, or if it’s because he never showed up.
Probably a combination of both, but more so the latter.
It’s uncanny to not see Wonwoo every day.
You had never thought about how you’d feel if you didn’t see him constantly. He was just always there. Always so reliable that you didn’t feel the need to consider what if.
What if he stopped showing up? What if you never saw him again? What if he no longer was a constant in your life?
You swallow the lump forming in your throat.
It’s a harsh reality to know he’s not required to visit. He can leave any time he wants. He can stop visiting your bookstore café at any moment.
There’s a strange thought about you not being good enough for him. Though, you’re not sure what that has anything to do with his absence.
Why would it matter if you weren’t good enough for him? He didn’t come to the café for you.
Did he?
If it was you he wanted, couldn’t he ask you out? Perhaps not as a romantic date, but as friends?
He never has, so he must not want to know you beyond the café. Meaning, he doesn’t come to it solely for you.
But, what changed for him not to show up tonight?
Unsettled with your thoughts, you decide to distract yourself with the final tasks you have to do before you leave.
However, the ride home is filled with more endless thoughts about Wonwoo.
Saturday
You come to work with less bounce in your step than usual.
The world outside seems dimmer. It feels as if the skies are going to be consumed with clouds and rain is going to fall. However, a storm was not in the weather’s forecast.
“Are you getting sick?” Sebastian asks.
You force a smile onto your face for the customer in front of you, handing them their order before looking at your coworker.
“No, why?” you wonder.
“You don’t seem well. Did you not sleep well last night?”
You wish you had, but you tossed and turned constantly. You didn’t think Wonwoo’s absence would affect you so much, but your mind kept wandering to every possibility for his no-show. In the end, you just gave yourself a headache.
“No,” you sigh, “but don’t worry about me.”
You try to smile again, but you’re sure Sebastian can see through it.
“Want me to close up tonight?” he offers.
“Don’t you have a big essay due tomorrow?” you question, remembering how stressed he sounded a few days ago.
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ll be fine,” you insist.
Huffing, he nods and grabs the cup from your hand. “Then go rest for a bit while I finish these orders.”
You purse your lips, contemplating arguing. In the end, you relent, moving to the backroom’s couch and plopping down.
You’ve been scrolling through your phone for ten minutes when you hear a familiar voice.
“Is Yn not here today?”
“Oh, she’s not feeling well, so she’s taking a break. Is there something wrong with our service?” Sebastian answers politely.
You shove your phone in your pocket and head to the door. There’s a small window that you peep out of.
You catch a glimpse of Wonwoo’s frown before he speaks again.
“No, everything’s fine. Will you tell her I hope she feels better?” he asks.
Sebastian nods slowly. Although you can’t see his face, you can see the cogs turn in his head.
“Oh! Ooh! You’re that guy.”
Wonwoo looks confused.
“I’m sorry?” Wonwoo replies.
“The guy that always comes in—”
Not trusting Sebastian to keep his matchmaking attempts at bay, you push through the door.
“Wonwoo,” you greet, trying not to seem too eager that he's here today even though you are.
Wonwoo’s eyes drift past Sebastian to see you. Instantly, his mouth begins to lift.
“Hey, you,” he says lightly, sweetly. “I heard you’re not feeling well.”
“Ah, I’m fine. Seb’s just overreacting.”
Sebastian narrows his eyes at you in a glare.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds.
“I’ve rested enough,” you shoo with a hand.
“Ten minutes isn’t long enou—”
“Seb, do you mind attending to the customers behind Wonwoo?” you interject.
Sebastian eyes you before grumbling under his breath—something about you being stubborn—then greets the next customer.
You move down the counter to an empty space.
“What can I get you?” you ask Wonwoo.
He shakes his head. “Actually, I just wanted to talk today, if that’s okay. I won’t be long.”
You want to say he can take as much time as he wants, but you hold back.
Concern creeps from the shadows around you.
Is he going to tell you he’s leaving forever? Does he not like your drinks anymore? Did he find somewhere better? Someone better?
“O-Oh, yeah, okay,” you mumble and maneuver around the counter.
You lead Wonwoo to his usual corner, next to the window and the bookshelves. It’s a little quieter here.
You both take a seat from across each other.
You fidget in your seat, nerves making you angsty.
“Are you sure you feel okay?” he asks.
“Just tired, nothing to be worried about,” you smile.
Something in your chest warms at knowing he cares about your well-being.
“Hm. Alright,” he replies a little skeptically.
“Is everything okay with you?” You try to change the subject. “You didn’t come in yesterday.”
Your voice trails off, not wanting to show how concerned you were about his absence. However, Wonwoo can sense it regardless.
He smiles, though the small lift at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s amused with your attempt to hide your worry.
“Did you miss me?” he wonders.
Your eyes widen a bit. “I—Well. I just noticed you didn’t come because you always come, you know?”
He nods with a subtle smirk still on his lips, yet it fades after a few seconds.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he apologizes sincerely. “One of my friends was in the hospital.”
Your heart drops and guilt kicks in. It’s not that you didn’t consider the possibility, but you had been more focused on him not liking you or the café.
“Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they okay?” you ask, frowning.
“He had to get surgery, but he’s fine. Just a little grumpy and whiny,” he chuckles.
You feel better hearing his small laughter.
“That’s better than being in pain, I guess,” you reply.
“Yes,” he concurs. He waits for a beat then continues, “I wanted to ask you a question.”
You tilt your head. 
A question. That sounds better than some statement about not seeing you again.
“Okay,” you say.
“When we last spoke, it was about you not having enough time for stuff outside of work,” he begins.
You nod to show you’re following but don’t cut in.
“Well, there’s this small event tomorrow. It’s nothing fancy, just some walking around. I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me?”
Your heart races as he speaks. You’re stumped for words. It’s as if you’ve subconsciously been waiting for this, but now that the time has come, you’re too nervous to answer.
“You can decline,” Wonwoo assures.
Although you’re anxious about the idea of meeting outside of the café, you don’t want to miss the opportunity.
“N-No! I mean, no, I don’t want to decline. What time? Where?” you hurriedly say before he can take back his offer.
He grins and holds out a small piece of paper.
You take it, turning it over to see scribbled numbers. You guess it’s his phone number.
“I can pick you up after work. You close early tomorrow, right?” he asks.
You nod, trying to hide your smile at him remembering your café hours. Though, since he visits frequently, you guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.
“Dress warm, okay?” he adds.
“Okay.”
Wonwoo stands from his seat, and you follow.
“Get some more rest tonight, Yn,” he says softly.
“Y-Yeah. I will,” you reply.
Although you’re no longer fretting over reasons for his no-show yesterday, you’ll be worrying about tomorrow now. Still, you’ll try to sleep—maybe even drink some tea or warm milk. You’ll try for him.
Sunday
Wonwoo comes to the café a few minutes before you close. He’s dressed in a fluffy hoodie layered with a light brown trench coat. He looks so…soft and warm.
Before you depart, you make a drink for each of you. He tries to pay but you profusely veto his offer.
The ride to the event is quiet except for the random music being played from his stereo. You’re unsure how long the ride is, but you don’t care. Even if you’re not speaking, it’s nice being with him in a new environment. It’s nice to see a different side of Wonwoo. And part of you hopes he likes seeing a different side of you too.
The event is free, but since donations are strongly encouraged, you and Wonwoo slip a few bills into the plastic reindeer before stepping onto the lit-up walkway.
People of all ages are enjoying the event. The walkway is wide enough to accommodate a couple of people at a time, but it’s still crowded. It forces you and Wonwoo to bump shoulders several times, and each time, you both apologize.
You notice a few minutes into the walk that he seems tenser than usual. You’re not sure of the reason, and he doesn’t seem inclined to disclose the answer.
You try to distract him by pointing out different features—from big blown-up Santas to mechanical reindeer moving up and down. However, it doesn’t seem too effective.
Wonwoo’s steps eventually begin to slow. He never comes to a complete stop, but with his slow speed, a lot of people pass by. Eventually, there’s a gap in the crowd and his body relaxes.
He must not be a fan of crowds.
“Can we sit for a bit?” you ask, not really needing to rest but there are picnic tables with fake candles on them nearby that are less crowded.
“Sure,” he says.
You guide him to an empty table and sit across from each other.
“Thank you for taking me here,” you smile while glancing around. “It’s so pretty.”
The area is filled with multitudes of holiday decor. There are so many lights strung that you don’t need streetlamps to see. It’s rather magical to see it all. It’s a shame you can’t see this all year round. But then again, it might lose its effect if you see it constantly.
“I’m glad you like it,” he replies.
His eyes drop to your hands clasped on the table. There’s a slight shiver in them.
Suddenly, his hands are covering yours—warmth instantly shooting up your arms from his touch. He says nothing as he rubs his thumbs along your cool skin.
You want to say something; however, it doesn’t feel like you have to, so you just stare at him, a small smile on your face while you bask in the warmth he’s providing.
“How does it feel?” he questions after a few minutes.
You open your mouth to say “good” and to thank him for taking away your coldness, but before you can, he speaks again.
“Getting out, I mean. How does it feel to get out of the café?”
“Oh.” Your face heats rapidly. Thank goodness for your slow reaction. “It’s refreshing.”
Wonwoo hums, nodding.
“Should we walk around again, or should we go? I don’t want you catching a cold,” he says.
“I’d like to see more if that’s okay,” you admit.
“It’s more than okay,” he reassures.
He starts to stand, but you grip his hands to stop him. He stares down at you bemused.
“I have something for you,” you explain.
He sits back down, hands leaving yours when you pull away to retrieve something from your bag.
It’s a small black box with a purple bow on it, albeit the decor is a little squished from being confined to your small bag.
“What’s this?” he asks and carefully brings the box nearby.
“Since you gave me a gift this week,” you say, referring to his tip on Monday, “I got you one as well.”
“You didn’t—”
“Need to? I know. But, I wanted to. And I worked hard on it, so accept it, please?” you say lightly so as to not sound too serious. 
He smiles and nods, lifting the lid.
Inside is the bookmark you made him. On the bookmark’s center is a cat with a game controller. It’s simple, but that’s the best you could do with your lack of drawing skills. Attached to the bookmark is a purple tassel.
“You made this?” Wonwoo asks in amazement.
“I’ll only admit to that if you like it,” you say out of nervousness.
Wonwoo laughs and glances at you. “I like it a lot.”
“Then yes, I made it.”
His gaze shifts to the item again, examining it closely for a bit. Then, he sets it back carefully in the box and puts it in his pocket.
“Thank you,” he says earnestly.
“Of course,” you smile.
You and Wonwoo walk around for twenty more minutes before you call it a night. Throughout the entire walk, he held your hand in his free pocket. The warmth from his body combined with his sheltered pocket made your hand clammy. You felt embarrassed at the fact, but Wonwoo refused to release his hold. Truthfully, you didn’t want to let go, but you also didn’t want him to be disgusted at the feeling.
Wonwoo drove you back to your café where your car was.
You tried to demand he stay in your car since he parked next to yours, but he still climbed out.
You stare at his eyes which are framed by his glasses; his cheeks are slightly rosy from the temperature. His dark hair dances softly in the wind. He looks so handsome.
Wonwoo leans forward and connects his lips ever so softly against your cheek. You have the urge to turn your face and capture his lips with yours, but you don’t.
There’s something romantic about going slow.
Wonwoo pulls back with a kind smile.
“You look beautiful tonight, Yn,” he whispers, breath ghosting your face.
You can’t stop the smile forming on your face even if you tried.
“And you look handsome,” you reply.
Wonwoo mirrors your grin.
“Get home safely, alright?” he instructs.
You nod. “You too.”
You unlock your car and climb inside.
Wonwoo lingers outside, watching with his hands in his pockets.
After starting your car and rolling down your window, you lean out and prop your head on your arm that’s resting on the edge.
He bends slightly to see you better, a small grin on his mouth. His face isn’t too close, but it’s closer than it should be for an average person. But, Wonwoo isn’t average.
He’s quiet for a while, and you take the time to observe his features again. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears. The desire to kiss him resurfaces.
Maybe you’re starting to like Wonwoo. Not just because he’s attractive, kind, funny, and caring, but because he’s Wonwoo.
Wonwoo, who’s been a frequent customer at your café for months.
Wonwoo, who’s always been supportive and kind.
Wonwoo, who’s slowly capturing your heart.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks with a smile still on his face.
“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Because of Wonwoo, you’re always looking forward to the next day.
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theminecraftbee · 1 year
Text
The room is a dim basement room. It has no windows. There’s a liquor cabinet, though, and a bookshelf full of notebooks, and a table and chairs, and a candle lighting the place. The candle doesn’t let off much smoke, but it’s steadily alight, indicating that the room’s oxygen content is still acceptable. A small, blinking device next to it confirms that any other electronic device in the area is well and truly dead. There’s tape sealing the door, so that no one can see the flicker of the candle inside.
There’s a bottle of brandy on the table. The glasses suggest neither party is bothering to savor it. It’s not a brand worth savoring, anyway; for all Scott could easily afford the expensive stuff, that’s not what he feels like he should drink while he’s down here.
He’s slumped forward on the table, hair askew. The hoodie he’s wearing doesn’t fit, because it isn’t his; neither are the sweatpants. He knows for a fact his contact is laughing at him for that. Whatever. She’s one of the only people who gets to know he has enough of a personal life to steal sweats from someone else anyway. May as well take advantage of that while he can. It’s not all impeccably-designed bulletproof suits out here.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Pearl says from across the table.
“Fuck off,” Scott says.
“...are you already drunk?”
Scott huffs. “So what if I am, huh? It’s not like I need to be alert while you’re out here in full costume.”
Pearl peels herself off the wall. She’s a relatively muscular woman wearing red and black. Her face is masked with a simple red circle. A lunar eclipse. Scott still has no idea how she sees through that thing. He’d made fun of her, back when she chose the getup for her criminal activities. Told her she looked like an evil dinnerplate or something. She’d told him in turn that he looked like a pretentious dork in his chosen costume. Judging by the whispers through the Hero Association about the two of them, though—
God. Through his Hero Association, or just about his. 
“Promoted to Vice Commander, huh?”
“I’ve sold my soul,” Scott says, and he takes another deep swig of his brandy. 
“You already did,” Pearl says.
“God, I hate you,” Scott says.
“It’s a good thing the feeling’s mutual,” Pearl says.
“I wish we’d never fucking met,” Scott says.
“I killed someone yesterday,” Pearl says.
Scott’s quiet.
“You can’t go telling me that,” Scott says. “That’s another thing to hide. You can’t just—Pearl.”
“I know,” Pearl says. “I know. But for all everyone’s scared of me, I normally manage to avoid—”
“Hah. We were both there when—”
“I know,” Pearl says. 
Scott sighs. He pours Pearl a glass and pushes it across the table. Pearl takes off her mask. Her eyes are rimmed red, and her face is covered in splotches. She’s always been terrible at hiding she’s been crying. She’s been terrible at it since they were ten, and had both quite suddenly realized that if it had been hard to have their powers alone, it was even harder once there was evidence they weren’t both just going crazy.
He’s hated her since he was eleven, really. Took the year to realize he probably would have always seen what his powers gave him as useless nightmares, otherwise, but after that, well. The feeling’s mutual, at least. He wouldn’t have been able to stand it, if the feeling hadn’t been mutual.
(A girl who can see deaths, and a boy who can see alternate universes. They make quite the pair.)
“I probably kill more people,” mutters Scott, halfway between a consolation and a competition.
“Not with your own hands.”
“Yeah, does that make it better? I’ve sold my—you know this. You know this.”
“Yeah,” Pearl says. “Yeah, I know. Thought I should congratulate you on succeeding.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
They’re both quiet for a while. Pearl takes a drink from her own glass and grimaces. “You can afford better brandy than this,” she says.
“Fuck off,” Scott says. “I can buy the cheap stuff for this.”
“Your taste is stupid,” Pearl says primly. “Next time we come down here to plan, I bring the drinks.”
“Right. Planning. Because we’re doing so much of that today.”
Pearl sighs. “Does Jimmy know you’re here?”
“Jimmy doesn’t exist, as far as you’re concerned,” Scott snaps. “I buried the man’s documents myself.”
“Eclipse will make anyone exist for the right price,” Pearl tells Scott.
“Jimmy doesn’t, or you don’t,” Scott snaps, voice low.
“Oh, now you’re sounding like a Vice Commander.” Scott gives her a two-fingered salute. Pearl shrugs. “Just saying.”
Scott considers arguing harder. Instead, something in his stomach shifts, and he pours a full glass of brandy. It’s not how you’re supposed to drink the stuff. He might have a good tolerance by now, but he fully expects to wake up with the worst hangover he’s had in years tomorrow. He deserves it.
“You uh… got enough alcohol there?” Pearl says.
“Got unclassified access to the Black Ops files when I was sworn in,” Scott says.
“Jesus,” Pearl says.
“I sold my soul,” Scott says. “I’m in charge of that now.”
“Jesus,” Pearl says again.
“And I kept thinking about the plans we had to—I can’t just dismantle that, Pearl. I can’t just—what are we doing?” Scott realizes his shoulders are shaking. “What are we doing, Pearl? The best of all possible endings? Don’t make me laugh—I can’t see this universe once we’re in it. Who are we to decide, huh? Who are we to, to try to…”
Pearl watches him for a while.
“I could have told you it would be bad,” she said.
“Do you think I didn’t know that?” Scott snaps.
“I killed someone yesterday. It’s not uncommon,” Pearl says.
“Great, so we both deserve to be executed!” Scott says, throwing his hands up. “Some of them started in the scholarship program, Pearl, they were scouted at sixteen!”
“And we were eleven,” snaps Pearl, and Scott shuts his mouth and looks away.
“Yeah, well. That’s not the Association’s fault, is it.”
The air hangs heavy. It smells like booze and candlelight and misery. Distantly, Scott wonders if Pearl was maybe right, asking if Jimmy knew where he was. The only other person on the list of people allowed to know Scott has a personal life, and he’s going to be disappointed in Scott again. Great. Scott’s lucky that, legally, the man doesn’t exist; if someone who legally existed was mad at Scott, he might just finally have to do something about it.
“You’re right,” says Pearl, finally. ”What are we doing?”
She slumps forward in her chair. She knocks back her own drink, but doesn’t pour herself another. Scott isn’t surprised. It’s not safe for both of them to be drunk. If the newly-promoted Vice Commander of the Hero Association is caught drinking with an infamous information broker, it’ll be the end of their house of cards. Scott’s powers helpfully decide to show him what happens at this juncture in that universe. Scandal, collapse, corruption—the worst part is, he thinks, is that it can’t even be all that different from this universe, only that the guy on the inside trying to change anything won’t be in power to do so. Maybe it would even be better.
Pearl ‘slits her throat’ in the night, his powers inform him. It’s not a suicide.
Scott can be selfish about that much. So can Pearl. They can’t be caught.
“I already knew most of it,” Scott says, finally. “But I’m in charge now. I sign the orders, right next to the Commander. I sign the ones his name can’t be caught on, too. I’m in.”
“Who better to lead than a man who can see the future?” Pearl says.
“You know that’s not how it works,” Scott says.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taunted you,” Pearl says.
“Jesus. Don’t apologize. You’ll make me think you’re an imposter,” Scott says.
“Yeah, well, the plan goes forward,” Pearl responds.
“Sure. Yeah. The plan goes forward,” Scott agrees. “The plan goes forward.”
Pearl reaches her hands across the table. Scott looks at them and, after a moment, reaches his own across to grab them. They sit there, holding each other’s hands, for a while, and it’s almost like they’re ten, and every horrible future the two of them can see flash by as possibilities is the end of the world, instead of another messy quagmire of maybe-just-as-bad-as-this-one. It had seemed much clearer then, really. It had seemed much easier. Scott doesn’t know. Maybe they were just stupider as kids.
Then again, he’d hated Pearl by eleven. He couldn’t have been that stupid.
He squeezes her hand tighter.
“Do good by them?” Pearl says, and it’s quiet and pained.
“Yeah,” Scott says.
“Okay,” Pearl says. “Okay.”
Slowly, Scott lets go of Pearl’s hands. He grabs the brandy again. He pours another glass. “I’m gonna get blackout drunk now,” Scott says.
“Sure. Just for tonight. I reserve the right to be sad and drunk next time,” Pearl says.
“Great planning,” Scott says.
“Yeah, well, we’ve still got a few hours,” Pearl says.
“I hate you,” Scott says.
Pearl smiles, for some ungodly reason.
“Yeah, me too.”
They stay there until Scott’s too drunk to stand up straight, and then Pearl lifts him around her shoulders and gets him outside to a cab. In the clothes he stole from Jimmy, no one can recognize him anyway. He’d think the hair would be distinctive enough, but apparently not. He won’t be caught today.
He muddles forward into the one future he can’t quite see.
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itzvintagevibez · 1 year
Text
Lady Leonora Lesso x Female Reader- School For Good & Evil
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Pairing; Fem!Never!Student!Reader x Lady Leonora Lesso
Featuring Characters; Kiko, Clarissa Dovey, Momo (fairy), Beatrix, Tedros, Hester, Hort, Sophie, Anadil, Dot, Casandra 
Category; Fluff?
Warning(s); none
Summary; Y/n is sent to the school for good and meets people who she believes are her new found friends but meets those who might just be her enemy as well. But after a certain redhead peeks her interest she starts to try and seek her attention, however, along the way she discovers secrets about the schools of good and evil including all the dark truths about how the true ending of the fairy-tale stories really end...
??? POV
“What do you think? Lavender or Tulips?” the little fairy on my shoulder shakes their head and points towards the Tulip in my left hand. “You’re right Lavender isn’t even in my list of favourite flowers” I say putting down the flower till I felt a tug on my hair. Looking over to my shoulder I spot my fairy pointing towards something. “What is it Momo? Is it perhaps a Dandelion?, or a Rose! I love Roses” Momo tugs onto my hair harder pulling me towards the middle of the flower garden. “What’s wrong M-” Looking down I see a girl in a blue dress with white stripes on and clock signs on it as well. “Oh! Is she alright?” I ask Momo as she shrugs her shoulders. We hear a groaning sound and look over to the girl who was now on her feet rubbing her head. “What in the madness” looking up from the ground the girl notices my presence and that of Momo’s and screams in fear. Covering my ears as Momo flies her way over to the girl slapping her across the face and the girl then silences herself. “Who are you? And where the hell am I?” After a while it hits me and I realizes who she is. “Are you the daughter of Alice? In wonderland?” “Yes...how do you know that?” “Well you kinda dress like her” I say. “I’m Kiko!” I reach out my hand for her to shake and eyes it as I casually put my hand back down. “Sorry I don’t like contact” “It’s fine! I totally understand” the girl forms a small smile across her lips before turning back to her serious face. “I’m Dinah” “Well it’s nice to meet you Dinah,” I respond “Well to answer your question, this is The School For Good And Evil” “The what?” she says raising her eyebrows with her arms crossed. I sigh shaking my head softly. “Come with me, there’s a lot- to learn” Grabbing her forearm and dragging her over to the school for good with Momo resting on my shoulder. 
??? POV
A splash is heard as I watch my fellow friends land into the muddy and dirty water. Laughing at their disgust in their faces. “Really Y/n?” “How come you didn’t fall into the water like the rest of us?” I make my way over to my friends with a wide mischievous grin on my face and my eyes glowing green. “Um, well, it seems to me that you all have forgotten that my mom’s the Cheshire Cat- and cats don’t like water” One of my friends rolls their eyes at me “Watch it Redhead, I not afraid to leave a few marks” I threaten my mad hatter friend Maddie as I let my claws show and there shine in the little bit of light being shone. “Hey! no killing till graduation! So get your ass inside! Freaks!” Looking over a guard hushes us to enter the large dark building in front of us. “Wow”  my friend Elizabeth speaks looking up at the castle. “This is perfect~” “Let’s go inside shall we?” Carlos speaks up and we all silently agree making our inside. 
Around the room is a whole dark interior which is absolute stunning but unfortunately the people aren’t as stunning as the place seems. We receive a bunch of glares from the people inside of the room which is rather odd...and not in a good way. “My word, is it just me or are we a bit out of the ordinary here?” Elizabeth whispers loud enough for our group to hear. “Yeah, that’s usually normal over in Wonderland” Carlos replies while a bald girl with a reptile on her shoulder hisses at him. “Guess people aren’t mad over” I say.
 A boy with short black hair jumps in front on Elizabeth. “Hey there, me again” “Elizabeth, you know him?” Maddie asks as Elizabeth let’s out a sigh. I met him as I was getting out of the water and he wouldn’t stop trying to taste my hair saying it smells like tea” “Aw~ Look at that, the Princess Of Hearts had made a new friend” I tease receiving daggers from the pouting girl. “Put it there!” the boy says pulling his hand out for Elizabeth to shake. As she does and pulls her hand away the hand comes off and she screams in agony. “Ta-da!” the boy laughs out. “It’s cleaner than my own hand” he remarks and Elizabeth gags at the sentence and we all try to hold in our laughs watching the interaction between the two. “I’m Hort by the way!” he says with a smile never leaving his mouth. “Hort? that sounds like something you cough up!” Elizabeth spats out. Hort places a hand on his chest looking at Elizabeth with what seems like admiration. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me” everyone except Hort and Elizabeth whizzes trying to keep in their laughter. “Argh, weirdo!” Elizabeth says pushing Hort to the side and walking away and I turn to Hort giving him a shrug and he shrugs back casually. 
“Well that a bit rude, Elizabeth” “Excuse me, Carlos if you were in my shoes you’d understand” I catch up with the group while looking at Elizabeth. “Well he seems-” “Weird?” she says “I would have chosen Joyful but weird fine too I guess?” I say sending her a teasing smirk and she glares at me about to say something till Maddie cuts her off mid-sentence. “Hey, do you think she’s in charge?” “I don’t know your a read head you talk to her, you know, redhead to redhead?” I say and she hits my shoulder aggressively. “Ouch!” “Oh, don’t be a pussy!” she says with a smirk and my eyes glow green but Carlos gets between us cooling down the tense atmosphere. “How about Y/n speaks to the Lady since she’s the only one who didn’t get launched into the water” he insists and everyone else agrees. And I sigh in defeat. “Fine” I whine making my way to the redhead in a trench coat. “Excuse-” “Excuse me, Ma’am!?” I was cut off by a blonde girl covered in mud who slightly pushed me over. Oh hell nah. 
The redhead turns around facing the blonde before she notices my figure making my way over to her. “With what am I in need of assistance of?” she asks with her eyes still on me. “There must be a mistake and I am in the wrong school!” the blonde says speaking sternly at the lady before her and I stare at her in shock, surprised by her boldness to speak at an authority figure in such a manner. The redhead eyes the blonde before speaking “Oh, how distressful and improbable, backup” she says using the cane in her hand to pushing the blonde away. Her attention then turns to me as she has her cane under my chin locking eyes me with her beautiful blue orbs. Wait, beautiful?! 
Waking up from my spacing out I look back at the redhead whose cane was still under my chin and eyes were still on me and like some sort of magnet they were dragging me in them. “And you?” “Uh- well, you see, my friends and I” I say leaning to the side so that the woman could get a view of my friends. “Are from Wonderland, and we aren’t sure where we are? why we and here and how to go back” I say calmly while keeping my eyes on the cane. Before a few minutes of what felt like forever, she removed the cane from chin and placing it firmly in her hand. “Well everything will be explained at the meeting being held later so before that I suggest you get prepared and get ready for your lessons that start tomorrow” she finishes. “Lessons?!” I scream in shock, I’m not a fan of school at all and most of time I’d skip my Wonderland lessons. “Yes, and don’t of even trying to miss a single class, or else I’ll have the pleasure of punishing you, Kitten~” I froze at the pet name and felt some type of heat inside of me especially on my cheeks and I see the woman smirk in front of me and I look at her confused, before I could ask she puts her finger on her lips hushing me and I reluctantly agree watching as she majestically leaves. 
The blonde girl who was next to me had already left and before I could move to go to my friends a giant wolf guard picks me up and drags me to a room which has the names; Hester, Anadil, Dot and below those names is my own Y/n. Sweet. 
Opening the door I watch as all the 3 girls look at me eyeing me up and down, especially the one in the middle with grey and red clothing who has black messy and scattered hair. “Look what the cat dragged in” she says and my let my claws out which causes all 3 girls to back up a bit surprised. “Watch it, or else this kitty might leaving some marks” the girl spits onto the ground near my feet and a spark lights. “Is that how you wanna do it?” I say running towards her with my claws ready to pounce before a curly haired, mixed skinned girl with chocolate in her hands and on her teeth jumps in front of me with her hands out. “Cool down Kitty Paws” the messy haired girl behind her sticks her tongue out and I purr back at her relaxing a bit as the chocolate girl rubs her hand on my head. “That’s a good kitty” she says and I purr with a smile on my face and my cheeks flushed red. She stops and puts her hand out.
 “I’m Dot, daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham” taking her hand in mine we shake hands while exchanging smiles to each other “Y/n, daughter of the Cheshire Cat” her eyes lit up and she jumps franticly. “I knew it! I knew it! I told you guys!” she says to the girls behind her and they roll their eyes sarcastically. “Well, Y/n this is Anadil” she points towards a girl with a rat on her shoulder and on her hand and my eyes light up admiring the big and juicy creatures. Anadil surely notices and immediately hides her rats behind herself. “Hands off the rats!” I roll my eyes before agreeing. “And this little ray of shine is Hester” the messy haired girl steps forward “Daughter of the Wicked Witch” “Oh do you mean that old hag?” I smirk watching her expression fall to a pissed one “That hag! Is my mother” “Oh, I can tell, at least I know who will be the highest in Uglclification. She was about to hit me till the bell rang indicating it was time for the ceremony to start “Seems like it’s time for the ceremony, you see later, Little Witch” I spat out to Hester pushing her to the side and waving to Dot and eyeing Anadil’s rats as she tries desperately to hide them. 
Dinah’s POV
“And that’s basically everything you need to know about the schools for good and evil” Kiko finishes before taking a seat next to me on the benches. “Whoa, so this is where my mother used to school?” “Mhm, there’s even a secret Museum hidden among the walls, which is filled with each hero and villain’s items” “So do you think it has my mother’s bottle?” “Most probably” “Nice” Looking around I watch as the supposed Nevers enter the hall and take their seats and the benches till my eyes lock on a certain girl in purple. “What?” I turn to Kiko as she looks at me confused “You whispered ‘oh no’ under your breath” “Oh, well you see that girl in purple at the Nevers side?” I ask her pointing towards the Never girl and Kiko nods her head. “She’s Y/n and she’s the daughter of the Cheshire Cat” Kiko’s eyes lit up and she gasps. “So also got taken from Wonderland?” “Yeah and I think her friends are here as well” 
Y/n’s POV
Feeling a pair of eyes on me I look around trying to spot the culprit till my focus was pulled away by someone banging their cane onto the floorboard. On stage I spot the previous Redhead from before and next to her is and dark-skinned, golden dressed woman, with a cheerful smile on her mouth. “Well come new students! I’m Professor Dovey, Dean Of The School For Good” she bows gracefully as the Ever students begin to say chant. “Evers! Evers! Evers! Evers! Evers!” as their chanting they go quiet as the Redhead pops herself on the stage. “And I’m Lady Lesso, Dean Of The School For Evil” the Nevers say their own chant. “Kill you! Kill you! Kill you! Kill you! Kill you!” Wow aggressive much. After a while Professor Dovey gives a long as speech till the Ever-boys burst through the door with their swords fighting with one another. The Ever princesses scream in cheers as the Nevers groan in boredom and to be honest I felt the same and I knew Lady Lesso felt the same as I looked at her throught the corner of my eye and say her placing a hand on her forehead. I laugh at the sight and she raises her head to find the laughing culprit to be me and I quickly turned my head to the other direction. 
A boy swings down a rope and lands on the ground catching me off guard and he starts fighting with the other boys till their all ‘defeated’. The Ever princesses cheer and one of the girls who I couldn’t spot screamed out the boy’s name. “We love you, Tedros!” Weirdos. The Nevers are still groaning in boredom and Lesso looks for unimpressed then before and an idea clicks into my head as I get up from my seat making my way towards Tedros. We was about to launch a rose into the air at one of the girls till he turned his head back and his eyes locked with mine as I stood right behind. The room falls silent as everyone has a confused expression on their faces. “So I suppose you believe you know how to fight, Ever-boy” he smirks putting back the rose in his vest and turns to me crossing his arms. “I suppose I do, and what’s that gotta do with you? Never-girl” A dark chuckle escapes my lips as I walk towards one of the guards and take their weapon. The shrug towards Lady Lesso and she does the same confused but intrigued to see what I’ll do. “It’s been over 200 years since evil has won!” I scream facing the Nevers before turning back to Tedros “How about we break that cycle?” Waving my hands in the air, my previous outfit changes to my fighting attire. 
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The Nevers cheer me on as I charge at Tedros and knock him onto the ground as he tries to catch his breathing I launch a swing at him but he takes his sword out and hits it on the ground and a force pushes me back, making me hit the ground. As a I groan in pain I hear loud screaming of complaints “Foul! Oh come on, anyone he has a magical sword!” I look around and spot my friends and Hort, surprisingly backing me up for the cheat Tedros made. I hear a flame above me and I look up to notice the weapon in hand turn to flames. ‘Make me proud, Kitten’ a voice says in my head and I look behind me and spot a smirking Lesso and I return the smirk to her before turning my attention to Tedros. “So wanna play with magic? Teddy boy” I swing the weapon around me till it point towards Tedros. “Sure let’s play with magic”
...To Be Continued...
Authors Note; By the way, in this series, Y/n is 18 years old and so are her friends and Dinah is 18 as well but all the other students are 16 because in Wonderland time is much more...well mad. 
Should I make a part 2 as well? Or should this be left like this and ya’ll can come up with your own story after that?
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naffeclipse · 1 year
Note
How okay are you with cusses? Cuz I came across this post of old hollywood bloopers and since the Detective AU/Sleuth Jesters takes some inspiration from film noir (at least I thought it did?), my mind immediately wandered in that direction. They do cuss a bit tho but there’s something funny and sincere about old-timey people just being people and dropping the perceived propriety by swearing. here's more if that's alright
Also in the very hypothetical case of SJ being a film noir production, I’d think it cute to image Eclipse, who plays the nastiest of nasties, actually being super kind and sweet irl (and constantly bumping his head cuz he’s just too tall lol). Sun and Moon may be more laid back or more like their SB selves perhaps? just goofy and having fun. But ignore that if actor au type stuff isn’t your cuppa tea ^^’ I do prefer SJ as is in its fictive context. Just thought it a funny set of clips to share :)
I'm okay with reading/hearing curses, I just don't like to write too much of them! And yes, Sleuth Jesters is very inspired by film noir! I love gag reels and bloopers, they're so funny!
AHHH AN ACTOR AU WOULD BE SO MUCH FUN! I wouldn't write a full fledge story but it's really exciting to think about ♥ (psst @luminitewrites I think you mentioned an actor sleuth jesters AU a while ago? but if not then feel free to ignore!)
Oh gosh, Eclipse just being a real sweetheart (hehe)! He gives me vibes of this one interview with an actor who was asked about people who idolized the very evil and morally messed up character he played and he just bluntly says: that's wrong and you should probably get therapy if you do. (I can't remember who exactly was the actor/quote but if I do, I'll put it here lol)
Sun and Moon would be their Security Breach selves. They're fun behind the scenes just as much as they are while in character!
I also think about the boys knowing their lines perfectly, because, animatronics, so Y/N would be the one who curses and apologizes whenever they forget a line. However! Y/N is the best at improv and delivering great, unexpected lines that enrich the scene/dialogue! Of course, that's not to say the boys wouldn't have their share of flukes with missing cues or messing up an action scene, or keeping up with Y/N when they do some improv.
I'm going to put a few of my favorites from the bloopers here as the boys and Y/N if you don't mind hehe (sidenote: I love how often they shout nuts lol):
Sun: Let me do it again, right now! Keep rolling!
~
Moon: Well, I can't work around here! *camera follows Moon as he walks away* Oh, you're following me. Oh. I didn't know that.
~
*Y/N and Sun kissing for a scene*
Y/N: *leaning back in Sun's arms* What was it? What was the... *forgets line* Sonuva—
Sun: *chuckles* Language.
~
Y/N: Oh, I'm fine. You've been getting any lately? *misses a keyword*
Moon: *grinning* Overtime, you mean?
Y/N: *laughs bashfully and blushes as they turn away*
~
Sun: Geez, these city women are... *realizes he's delivering it wrong* Nuts.
Y/N: *smiling* Well, I don't think so.
~
Director: *during a scene where the actors are standing in water and are wet* Don't pull your hair back!
Y/N: Well, I gotta see, if you don't mind!
Moon: *chuckles*
~
Y/N: *hat falls off during a scene*
Eclipse: *hurries to pick it up and put it back on them*
~
Eclipse: *trying to light his cigar but fails repeatedly in frustration* My match won't strike.
~
Y/N: *collapses against Eclipse in a dramatic scene* Help me... *tries to lift their head but realizes their hair is stuck* Help me, please, help me. *laughs* I'm caught on his button!
Eclipse: *laughs as he frees them*
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ashtrayfloors · 8 months
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So you wanna be a punk? Read a zine. Drive around in your car with the windows rolled down, smoking cigarettes and screaming along with Clash songs. Or quit smoking, and get rid of your car, because those things are bad for you and the environment and they support evil corporations. Ride your bike everywhere, with Mischief Brew blaring through your headphones. Walk everywhere, listening to Against Me!, because walking is still honest. Shoplift from stores like Walmart and Barnes and Noble, then spend the little money you have supporting independent artists and small businesses. Sell your zines at a benefit party, give all the proceeds to Food Not Bombs or Planned Parenthood, even though you’re broke and can’t really afford to be giving zines away. Fuck it, scam copies from Office Max so you can keep giving copies away. Give one to the cute person with the mint-green mohawk you always see hangin’ downtown. Sew patches crookedly onto your hoodie, with dental floss, natch. Spend hours putting studs on your black denim jacket, even though half of them will wind up having the prongs bent to the point of being unusable and it feels like an exercise in futility. Wheat-paste posters or put up stickers or tag with Sharpie everywhere you go—political messages, song lyrics, surreal images, it doesn’t matter. Leave your mark. Go to a show and lose yourself in the music and the pit. Or stay out of the pit, ‘cause you’re just not into it; stand in the back clutching your beer and nodding your head and feeling like an asshole. Start a band, write some songs, never play any shows; figure out that no one in the band is as serious about it as you are and quit. Record a solo home demo of your songs, spend months getting it to sound just right—or at least as right as it can sound without a full band—and never let anyone hear it. Constantly say you’re dropping out of the punk scene, but never quite manage to do it. Tell people you’re so punk you hate punk. Say you’re gonna be a rude boy, like your dad. Watch punk films and read punk books and have them remind you of so much of your own life that you almost can’t breathe. Think about your life and your old friends, the ones who are dead, the ones you never talk to anymore, and the few that you’re still close to. Start to cry. Feel emo. Make a t-shirt that says: “Don’t call me emo. It makes me cry.” Call your friends, the ones who’ve stuck around. Go to the grocery store late at night. Make fun of articles in women’s magazines, because even though some of you are part of the right age group and gender to be their target demographic, their articles are so far outside of the realities of your lives that it’s hilarious. Write your own zine, about the reality of your life. Call your friends, the ones who’ve stuck around, get together at someone’s apartment. Make veggie nachos. Eat til you’re so full you can’t move. Talk about what you’re doing with your lives and feel like losers ‘cause none of you thought you’d still be so broke and pissed off when you reached this point. Feel shitty ‘cause being angry, old, and poor isn’t as cute as being angry, young, and poor. Be glad, despite it all, that you’re still alive, still hearing new music, still hanging out with friends. Flip off cops who are harassing teenagers for skateboarding or some other minor infraction. Realize that flipping off a cop won’t bring the system down, but doing it still feels pretty damn good. Throw an MDC record on your turntable when you get home; blast that shit. Go to a show, a party, a zine fest, a coffeeshop, see another punk. Go up and talk to them. They’ll turn out to be cool and you’ll have a new friend, or they’ll turn out to be assholes but hey, most punks are assholes. Still get crushes on every punk you see, despite that. Give no fucks about anything, except the things you really care about, like music and books and art and your friends and family and the state of the world and… Tattoo and pierce yourself and dye your hair and wear mismatched, dirty clothes because that’s how you feel comfortable, not because anyone else is telling you to. Try sometimes to look normal, in situations that call for it, and feel like a complete fraud the entire time, like everyone can tell you’re only pretending. Call other people posers, but don’t really mean it. Call yourself a poser, and claim the word with pride. Spend a night alone, tipsy from booze or jacked-up on caffeine—pick your poison—singing along to all the old songs and realizing that most of them still mean as much to you as they did half your life ago. Refuse to grow up. Realize that you’ve grown up despite your best efforts not to, and you have a job and bills and a family and/or other responsibilities, but that you’ve still got that spark, that match-struck, steel-toed, silver-studded, loud as fuck spark hanging out in your heart. Sometimes, that’s good enough.
—Jessie Lynn McMains, from “What We Talk About When We Talk About Punk” (c. 2012-2015)
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roseliaproducer · 24 days
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Never Trust a Snake - A Lloyd Character Study Fic
Summary: A long time ago, Lloyd learned to never trust a snake. Unfortunately, that lesson did not stick with him when he met the Jade Princess
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When Lloyd was a young boy, he met a snake named Pythor. He was the general of the almost extinct Anacondrai. He carried himself with dignity around Lloyd. He held his head high, he spoke with confidence -  he was the perfect henchman to help the young evil mastermind achieve his villainy. An experienced Serpentine general who was willing to do whatever Lloyd pleased.
It was obvious by the skeletons scattered around the tomb that Pythor wasn’t trustworthy. Perhaps Lloyd should have realized Pythor’s glances towards the map sticking out of his pocket sooner, or the forced happy tone of his voice when talking with him. It wasn’t the first time a snake betrayed Lloyd, but it was the first time one had offered to be his friend.
For how long was Lloyd running around Darkley’s alone? Brad was the closest friend he had, but even Brad would ignore him in the hallways or play viscous pranks on him. Pythor was different. He hugged Lloyd. He listened to him. He was willing to be seen with him. He held Lloyd’s hand as they walked back from Jamanakai village, their bellies full with all the candy they stole. Pythor’s hands were cold, but it was the most warmth Lloyd had felt up until this point. 
Lloyd should have learned his lesson, but he was lucky. He met the ninja, and while Pythor didn’t fulfill Lloyd’s desire for friendship, he managed to find others who did. Growing up as the Green Ninja meant saving the world, but it also led to getting your hair ruffled by Kai, geeking out over Fritz Donnegan with Jay, or coming home to experience Zane’s cooking. It meant finally having a mother to give you hugs and an uncle to read you bedtime stories. The best part of all was finally having his father in his life. The young boy who met Pythor back in the tombs would have killed to experience what the Green Ninja had now.
Who wouldn’t want to be the Green Ninja? Who wouldn’t want to have incredible power and ride on a dragon, with all eyes on Ninjago on you? Who wouldn’t want to be on Master Chen’s Island, witnessing the boy you considered your brother point a weapon at you and claim your powers should’ve been his all along? Or to have a vengeful spirit possess you, their jealousy clouding your brain because they finally got the Green Ninja gi all to themselves! Isn’t it every boy’s dream to someday fight their father to save the world? At least Lloyd was lucky his father was purified after the final battle, but he wasn’t lucky enough to have his father still standing beside him after the Second Serpentine War.
Then Lloyd met the Jade Princess Harumi. She carried herself with dignity, befitting of her royal status. Her shoulders and back were straight, but her voice was soft. She hung her head low, only keeping it high in public when all eyes in Ninjago were on her. No one could see her discomfort aside from Lloyd. He could hear his ninja teasing him about his feelings for her, but Lloyd didn’t realize what made him so drawn to the princess. Was it her gold jewelry that sparkled in the daylight? Her magnificent cape that made her appear regal? 
He realized it was her witty comeback when she saved him from falling. It was her soft smile she had as she walked the streets of Ninjago, or the gentle words of reassurance she gave the children as she handed them food. Lloyd enjoyed seeing children smile upon receiving fruits from her. Their faces were glowing, just like the princess herself. The lights from the hanging lanterns illuminated the princess as she escorted Lloyd to a bridge over a canal. He felt relief when Harumi discussed how being a princess is not as wonderful as people think it is. 
For a split second, Harumi grabbed onto Lloyd's hand as they walked along the canal. Her hand was cold, but Lloyd did not notice. He felt warmth around him, from the lanterns hanging over the canal to the fires the poor lit to keep themselves warm. There was warmth from the children running around, rejuvenated from the food Harumi provided for them. Lloyd wanted to believe Harumi was warm too.
Harumi didn’t have scales or could turn invisible. She didn’t try to steal Lloyd’s map to the Oni mask or force herself to sound cheerful around him. She had a natural soothing voice. It could soothe the baby Cole found. It could soothe Lloyd. He loved that about her. He loved how she stayed close to him as they traversed through Primeval’s Eye, sometimes burying her face against his shoulder when she got startled. He loved how she tended to his wounded arm, protecting him when he was supposed to be protecting her. She wasn’t a snake. She wasn’t Pythor.
Harumi was like Lloyd, and that is why he wanted to trust her. She understood being forced into a position of power with little to no choice. She understood the pain of losing your family. She inflicted that same pain on Lloyd, mocking him as she forced him to watch the Colossus destroy Destiny's Bounty and kill his friends. He should have learned his lesson with his Pythor. Perhaps Harumi didn’t snatch the map because Lloyd was already willing to lead her to the Oni Temple regardless. 
After Emperor Garmadon’s defeat, Lloyd stood by the remains of a collapsed building. His younger self would’ve loved the friends and family he had now, but Lloyd was still the young boy awakening serpentine tombs, who failed to learn to never trust a snake. 
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PROPAGANDA
Tony Stark
The whole fucking point of this character is that he is an arrogant billionaire arms dealer who realizes that he Kind Of Sucks and consequently spends the next fifteen years trying to Not Suck to mixed but ultimately decent results. On one hand you’ve got the people who act like hes terrible and like I get it I would hate him in real life too but this is a fictional character and you have to admit theres more going here. On the OTHER hand are his legions of fans who insist that he has never done anything wrong ever, he is the smartest nicest little boy who isn’t actually even a little arrogant, and actually everyone who ever went against him even for understandable reasons (incl. very morally upstanding Captain America) is Evil, actually. I say this as a fan of the character: PLEASE you can like this man and have him suck a little at the same time!!!!! I am begging you!!!! Help!!!!
Literally a millionaire who started out manufacturing weapons for the military. Was then chased by the consequences of his actions while not making any sort of reparations. Of course stayed a millionaire the whole time. Then did not communicate with the team about making a sentient "suit of armor" that turned into a massive slaughter bot. People claim that this should be excused as a result of PTSD but is his responsibility to seek out help and he most certainly had access to whatever treatment he could choose as a -in his words- "millionaire playboy philanthropist". Then supported an accords rife with human rights violations that he was of course exempt from - and refused to hear any of the others rebuttals to it - like they were not millionaires and did not have access to entire legal teams that would work to exonerate them. Then exposes Clint's family and farm which he had revealed to Tony in confidence and kept secret from any authority to protect them. Then Tony spends the rest of Civil War trying to straight up murder Bucky - ignoring that it had already been established that Bucky had no agency nor autonomy in his time as the Winter Soldier, in doing so ignored the Accords he had advocated for. He then kidnapped a 16 year old child - who he did not tell why he was taking him - in direct contradiction with the accords and then allowed for Steve's team to be held in a maximum security prison with no trial. He then proceeded to refuse any sort of communication with Steve, resulting in a delay of him defending Earth from Thanos' invasion. After this - despite his failure playing part in the deaths of half the universe, and the child in front of him he treated as a son - he refused to rectify his failure because he had a family now - ignoring the literal entire universe who had lost their families. Upon his death he was treated as a hero and the one who saved the universe, despite his actions being that of hubris.
The Darkling
Okay so this guy is the main bad guy of the series. He made “the fold” this barren wasteland of darkness and monsters dividing the land, causing like hundreds of thousands of people to die. He killed his mom. He psychologically manipulated his girlfriend (like, he caused her to hallucinate and a whole bunch of other crazy stuff). He made one of his followers (a young girl) use her body to slowly poison the king over time. He started a cult. He did a LOT of crazy stuff. However, we do see his backstory of him as a kid, and learn that he did all this in the name of equality, so people would stop torturing and killing the ‘grisha’ or the witches/magic users. Later, he fakes his own death and starts a cult worshipping him and acts as the leader of the cult, going by his old name Aleksander. He is a very complicated character. So tell my why everyone thirsts after him and is like “he did nothing wrong” HELLO?! He is NOT your poor little meow meow he is complies please please don’t sanitize him
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typellblog · 6 months
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listen i’m used to hearing stuff on the internet from people who misunderstand gender critical ideology, but speaking as an evil scary terf, the entire point is that we don’t believe in “girl gender” or “boy gender” either. we believe there is no such thing as gender and that it’s a social construct that exists to oppress biological females. in a perfect world, gender non-conformity would be the norm, because there would be no gender. women (bio females) would be free to be hairy and loud and do whatever the fuck they want and men (bio males) would be free to wear pretty dresses and have long hair if that’s what they want to do. feel free to continue to misinterpret and misunderstand this, as you most certainly will, or maybe start to realize that the solution to feeling trapped by your box isn’t to pick a new one, it’s to destroy the boxes entirely and be FREE. of course that doesn’t bode well with capitalism and consumerism tho so people will continue to swallow propaganda about how the evil terfs are murderous fascists. how convenient.
Cool utopian scenario dumbass, now consider the effect your ideology is having on people who live in the actual world
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peninkwrites · 4 months
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Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil. Ch 2 of ?
Ranboo has been going blind his whole life.
Ch 1
Ch 3
crossposted to ao3
Ranboo knows blindness is inevitable.  He’s known this since he was small.  His mothers had never said it to him directly, but it seems maybe they regretted having a child who was only half enderman.  How could they have known he would inherit his other half’s tear ducts?  They did their very best to raise a child who wouldn’t cry, but they were fighting an impossible battle.  The early years were the worst.  Ranboo lost maybe a quarter of his vision in the first six years of his life.  Six was old enough to hold back, to refuse tears through skinned knees and childish insults and getting lost.  It took him a few years more to realize that never crying would have a different toll.  Ranboo kept his emotions clutched carefully to his chest, letting them pour free not in burning salt, but ink.
Eventually it became clear that their forgetfulness went beyond the ordinary, and his book began to serve a different purpose.
Not that Ranboo remembers these finite details, things like his mothers, his childhood, where he is from.  Nor is he really sure how he arrived on the SMP, only with the vague goal of winning an election.  He remembers a few essentials kept carefully in his memory book.  Tears burn, they make his vision worse, and one day he will go blind.  Crying will hasten the process, and even as that scares him, he cannot let it scare him enough that tears fall.
So he doesn’t cry.  First he meets Niki, whose voice is soft and kind and reassuring, and she shows him around the server.  He follows her closely, and she points out different structures and places and Ranboo pretends to perceive them.  He pretends there isn’t a fog over his vision, confining his view to the prime path and a bit beyond that, depending on the brightness of the sun that day.  His peripheral is worse, but as long as he’s looking at something head on, something close enough, he can see it generally.  Niki he will remember by voice, by her outline, her hair, but not really her face.  He would have to get way too close to see what she really looks like, but he knows enough to recognize her.  He can remember people relatively well by name and vague appearance, it’s who they are, the details of what they have done together, that’s where things get fuzzy just like his vision.
This was not ideal, as the next person he met, the current president, introduces himself and rather curtly tells him:  “I’m pretty much totally deaf, so, sorry if I’m not much for conversation.”
“Oh,” Ranboo had briefly had no clue what to say, before some impulse built on the sound of this boy’s voice, his small stature, wearing a suit, by the looks of it, he felt inclined to show a little faith.  “I’m… I’m kinda blind, so,” he mumbled.
“Um, like I said, man.  I can’t hear, so.  Dunno what you just said.”
Ranboo’s cheeks flushed green and red, fumbling for his memory book and flipping to the back of it.
I’m a little blind, so.  I don’t think I’ll be very good at sign language.
He holds it out to Tubbo, who frowns at the page, reading slowly.
Instead of irritation, he laughs.  “I mean, that works out!  Sort of.  Maybe not, but, how about I help you with the seeing bit, and you can… you could be my minutes man!  If you’d like.”
“Minutes-?” Ranboo stops, going back to the page.  Minutes man?
“Yeah!  If you want, you could write down the stuff we talk about in meetings, so if I have a hard time keeping up, I can still keep track of stuff,” Tubbo says brightly.  Ranboo knows he’s staring at him.  “So, is that why..?” Tubbo’s hand goes to his own face, which Ranboo notes is slightly discolored.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t…”
“Oh! The scars?” Ranboo brushes against his own cheeks, and the deep, red divots along the corner of his eye.  “It’s okay,” Ranboo shrugs, hoping that’s reassurance enough.
“I’ve got some pretty gristly scars too, dunno if you can tell,” Tubbo says.
“Not really,” Ranboo shakes his head, and then shrugs.  He should really just write.
“Huh, you can’t even see that?” Tubbo says unthinkingly.   “Sorry, that was, well, not very tactful of me.  If you want to, I could like, I dunno,” Tubbo pauses, thoughtful  “I could describe stuff?  If that would help?”
“Uh, yeah!  Yeah, I mean, I–” Ranboo nods and starts talking before remembering, returning to his book.
I’d like to be the minutes man. I was actually planning on running in the next election, so it would be cool to work with you.  And that might be nice. If you described stuff sometimes.  I don’t know I’ve never tried that.
Tubbo reads, and sounds surprised.  “Oh!  You’re planning on running, then, Rambo?”
Ranboo almost goes to correct him, but can’t bring himself to, endeared.
“Right, well, least I can do is show you around!  Or, show you what I can,” Tubbo says sheepishly.  “How bad is your vision?  You don’t have glasses, you know?  Feel like that could help a bit.”
Ranboo tries to remember the explanation.  He doesn’t have glasses.  Because..?  Another quick scribble on the page.
I don’t really remember why.  I think it might have to do with the different types of eyes?  I’m not really sure.
“Huh.  Well, if you want, we could see about getting you glasses.  My friend Wil–” Tubbo stops, and Ranboo cannot see that his expression is stricken.  Tubbo continues, and Ranboo notices the slight tremor in his voice.  “My friend Wilbur.  He wore glasses.  So, I’m sure we could get you some as well.”
Ranboo hesitates, writing slowly.
thank you. That would be nice.  Maybe it would help.
my vision is pretty bad.  I can’t see far over distances, it gets all foggy, and my peripheral is almost nonexistent.  And things are always a little blurry unless you’re right in front of my face.
Tubbo reads it slowly and carefully, murmuring the words as he does so, maybe meant to be inaudibly, but Ranboo can hear him.  “I am also dyslexic, so, the reading stuff is a bit slow for me.”
Ranboo just nods.
“Well then, Rambo.  I will give you a specialty tour of New L’Manberg!” Tubbo had originally wanted to take him to the top of the hill, to look out over the city, but he now knows that wouldn’t exactly be much use, so instead he takes him over to the platforms.
“I built this recently,” Tubbo puts a fond hand on one of the support posts.  “Made it out of spruce, and look, can you see how new it is?”  He motions Ranboo closer.
Ranboo follows, having to crouch down, but once he does, he sees the grain in the wood, he sees the fresh bark still left on the logs and the new metal bolts holding it all together.  “You built–” Ranboo quickly course corrects.
you built all this?
Tubbo stares at the page, always a delay, but not that Ranboo minds.  When Tubbo has to lean in to read it, Ranboo can see a bit more of his face.  “Yeah, I did!  With some help from the rest of the cabinet, and… and from Ghostbur.”
it's really cool
Tubbo reads it, and for a second Ranboo thinks he might be blushing, but then Tubbo is too far for him to tell.
“Right, now over here, we’ve got a few houses set up.  This one here,” Tubbo all but escorts him to the front door.  “It’s the one to the left of the stairs up.  It’s where Phil lives.  You’ll like Phil!  He’s really great.”
Ranboo nods, and he is startled when Tubbo takes his hand, pulling him along to the next doorway.
“This house is unoccupied at the moment.  The door is also spruce, and we’ve even placed flower boxes outside!  The house is a bit small, but it has two stories.  And I dunno if you know this, but the whole city is on stilts right now.  Over a big crater.  The plan is to hopefully refill it with rain water, there’s already some starting to collect, and make it a little less… rough,” Tubbo actually guides his hand to the flower boxes, so he can touch the dirt, so he’s close enough to see the flowers clearly, and Ranboo, if he weren’t so repressed, thinks he might have cried.  Tubbo doesn’t seem to notice, moving along.  “And here’s the flag!  The flag for New L’Manberg.  Maybe I can find you an old flag and show you that one too.  The history is important, you know?”  Once more, Tubbo hands the cloth to Ranboo, so he can feel its material, and hold it up close enough he can see the colors and the heart stitched on its surface.
It’s pretty
“Thank you!  I tried, you know?” Tubbo sounds a little bashful.  “Um, maybe it could be your house!  You’ll need to have a house here if you want to run in the elections.”
yeah!
Tubbo opens the doors to the house.  “Check out the inside!  It’s got barrels for storage, and a crafting table already set up, and a ladder up to the second floor.”
Ranboo can see the outline of the walls, and the second floor, he can guess where the ladder is from how it stands out distinctly to the cobblestone.  He can see the lanterns hanging from the ceiling from the harsh streaks they leave across his eyesight.  Ranboo also finds his vision does better in the dark.  Outside in the sun, the fog gets worse.
“You’d have to buy it.”
Ranboo scribbles faster.  Wait how do I do that??
Tubbo laughs, and Ranboo wants to make him laugh again.  “You’d have to talk to Ghostbur.  Don’t worry, he won’t charge you an arm and a leg for it or anything.”
Ranboo nods.
“And down here we have market stalls built!  No one is selling anything at the moment, but Ghostbur has decorated each one with wool and these… these decorative panel things, um, banners!  Lots of different patterns and things,” Tubbo nods him over to one of the stalls so Ranboo can see the detailed weave.  Tubbo walks to the next stall, and then the next, pausing at each so he can see the decorations.
“Alright, come on.  Stick close to me.  There are railings around the main platform, but we haven’t finished adding them to the sides really yet, or the stairs.”
I can see the railings and where the edge drops off.  I just can’t see far away or details unless it’s really close.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to… to patronize or assume or anything.”
it’s ok! thanks tho
“No problem, bossman!  Up here, this is Karl’s house.  I’m sure you can hear the llama?” Tubbo says this more hesitantly.  “There’s also bright red flowers.”
yeah!  The flowers are nice.  You’re right the llama is loud.  So is the redstone track.
“Oh, right, the redstone!” Tubbo stares at the track perhaps thoughtfully.  “Forgot about that,” he murmurs, and Ranboo isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear him or not.  “Um, back over here is Quackity’s house.  It’s very… open concept at the minute.  All those big gaps over there?” Tubbo points to a large opening in the far wall.  “There��s no glass in there yet, so it’s very… airy.”
Ranboo nods.
“Right, and over his Fundy’s house, it’s across this bridge here,” Tubbo leads the way.  “And… he’s got blue carpet!” Tubbo actually sits on the floor in his fancy suit, and brushes through the woven wool.
Ranboo can see the color, he knows it’s carpet, he doesn’t actually need to know what it feels like, but Tubbo is trying so hard, so Ranboo sits beside him and threads through the wool.  Ranboo smiles.  He glances up to Tubbo’s face and is unsettled to find that he’s most likely staring at him.  He hopes Tubbo isn’t looking him in the eye.  Even if Ranboo can’t tell, he doesn’t like the thought very much.
“Right, um, anyway.  Down here is the rest of Fundy’s house.  His house is very nice, it’s properly furnished, lots of that blue carpet,” Tubbo describes it as they go.  “And outside here, under the crane, this is Ghostbur’s property.  It’s not all under water, he just… he sort of lives next to the sewers––storm drains, to be clear, nothing gross.”  Tubbo heads down into the water and Ranboo hesitates.
He fumbles with the edge of his iron armor.  He should be safe enough to make it down there.  Ranboo can’t help but cover his eyes as he follows.
“You… you alright?” Tubbo asks carefully.
“Y-Yeah!” Ranboo quickly nods, relieved to find his face is dry.  He needs to have more faith in his enchantments, and once he gets some netherite, he shouldn't have to worry about water anymore.
“Um, well, in here is Ghostbur’s house.  His thing is making invis potions, as you can tell.  Reeks of blaze powder,” Tubbo flips through barrels of supplies.  “And in here is his library…”
So it follows.
Tubbo shows him everything, every little thing close enough, at least.  He gives him things to feel, and he points out sounds he knows should be there even if he can’t hear them anymore himself, and Ranboo cannot describe the feeling it brings him to follow Tubbo.  It’s not merely caring, it’s the fact that in some way, Tubbo understands.  He won’t realize for a long time that that was where he started to fall in love.
Next, he follows around Tommy, who is an explosion of noise and energy and his hands always a flurry of motion that Ranboo cannot quite make out.  He does his best not to reveal how little he can see.  He doesn’t know Tommy well enough for that; Tubbo’s own confession had felt like enough.  When Tommy questions Ranboo accidentally hitting him––Ranboo hadn’t noticed Tommy out of the corner of his eye until Tommy was right there, he’d reached out to stop him, severely misjudged the distance, and apparently hit Tommy––Ranboo fumbles an explanation about wanting to hand him a flower.  He cannot read Tommy’s hazy expression as he says, “y’like flowers, Ranboo?” but since Tommy continues to talk to him, asks Ranboo to walk with him, he assumes Tommy wasn’t offended.
Ranboo agrees to join Tommy in his mischief.  He doesn’t realize the house is burning until he smells smoke, and Tommy drags him away from harsh yellow light and heat muttering a fierce string of curse words.  He hisses to Ranboo as they walk quickly up the prime path, “we saw nothing, got it?  We saw nothing.”
And Ranboo nods and deigns not to tell Tommy how true that is.
When they are dragged to a court house, Ranboo doesn’t remember what happened.  He remembers going somewhere with Tommy, he remembers Tommy’s panic, but he doesn’t grasp the details.  He doesn’t see Tommy’s face, but hears him defend him, and support him when he explains why he can’t remember.
So Ranboo is let go, and Tommy isn’t.
And it only gets worse from there.
Ranboo is overwhelmed by how everyone starts to panic, but he told Tubbo he would follow him, that he would try to help, so he does, and he tries to keep the minutes.
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norman891 · 4 months
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Dreamtime - One Shot fic
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This picture had such a profound effect on me that I actually had a deam about it. My dream actually ended before I could reach out to him, so I finished the dream on paper, as it were. This also is one answer the question posed by #captjameshookthoughts in a post earlier today.
                                                Dreamtime
I’m standing in a dark room in my bedclothes, but somehow, I know it’s not my bedroom. It’s too dark; there’s no faint ambient light from my alarm clock or the nightlight in the bathroom. In fact, it’s almost pitch black. The door isn’t even where it’s supposed to be, it’s right in front of me.  I reach out and run my palms across the smooth, well-oiled door and find an iron bolt in the locked position.  The door is warm to the touch, but the floor is cold on my bare feet. And I can smell the ocean, cigar smoke, and alcohol, and something like linseed oil but not quite the same.
I keep blinking my eyes trying to get them to adjust to the blackness and turn to look around the dark room. That’s when I see him, only because of the thin shaft of moonlight that’s shining in through a window.  One thin sliver of light in a sea of blackness that envelops me and the man straddling a chair with his arms folded across the back. I instantly fight to control my breathing and the volume of my breaths to keep them inaudible. I know this man – even from the back, in this poor light, I know him.
He's been drinking heavily; the smell of rum permeates the air. And I can see a partially consumed glass of alcohol in his hand, but he’s not drinking it. His head is down on his arms and he’s crying silently; I can’t hear a sound, but I can see his shoulders heaving. 
I take a few tentative steps towards him, the lavish, lush rugs on the floor feel much better to my bare feet than the bare plank flooring. Now I can see the vicious steel claw that he wears on his right arm, the moonlight makes it gleam.  My heart breaks for him.  He’s so sad, so lost, so alone. I know this feeling, though not as cruelly as he does, but I am familiar with these feelings.  I have my demons that crawl out when I’m alone with my thoughts, and in the wee hours when I’m trying to sleep or worse, into my dreams giving me the kind of nightmares that make you wake up screaming and crying.
I want so badly to reach out and tell him he’s going to be alright. I want to tell him that I’ve loved him since I was a wee boy of five years old.  That I’ve never found him scary, threatening, repulsive, evil, disgusting, and a dozen other euphemisms for ‘bad’.  I would dearly love to put my arms around his shoulders and hug him, a good long, affirming hug but I don’t think he knows I’m here. At least, he’s given no indication, and he might strike out in anger or shock with the hook.
I know he’s a proud man and the last thing he wants is for anyone to see him so dejected and defeated, so vulnerable. But I also know I can’t just stand here and watch him suffer in silence; my heart won’t let me.  I take a few more tentative steps closer, and a board creaks under my weight – I freeze, thinking I’ve announced my presence prematurely, but evidently creaky boards are part of his everyday life because the noise doesn’t faze him.
I steel myself to try and deflect or maybe halt the deadly right arm that is sure to attack any intruder, but I also realize I’m not the strong young man I was in my 20’s or 30’s. I’ve gotten old and somewhat crippled.  I can’t even run anymore if my life depended on it, damn that doctor. I have been told though, that I am the most determined man many people have met, and my heart has not weakened under the catastrophes of life, nor has it lost its capacity for love. I reach out ever so slowly to gently lay my left hand on his right shoulder as I softly speak his name.
“Captain Hook, sir?” 
He almost jumps out of his skin, leaping to his feet and dropping his drink. He staggers a little bit, probably from the alcohol and being startled. An angry snarl is on his lips and the claw is held high ready to strike, little red spots dot the center of his entrancing blue eyes. Everything inside me tells me to run, but I hold my ground trying to keep a calm expression, my hands up at shoulder height.
“How did you get in here?!” the captain demands. “Who are you?!” glaring at the strange, bearded man in his quarters.
“Please sir,” I start, “Don’t kill me. I’m not here to do any mischief….”  He swings the claw at me, and I jump backwards. He misses my throat by fractions of an inch. Good Lord, he is so much taller than me. He must be six foot four at least.
“Don’t presume to give me orders! And how the Hell did you get in my cabin?!” I can tell he’s fighting the urge to eviscerate me on the spot and I’ve no idea why I’m still alive.  It is at this point I begin to wonder if I’m having a really strange dream… except I never know that I’m having a dream when I do.  But I definitely felt the leather harness that holds the barbarous hook and base to his right arm when I touched him. Never dreamed anything like that before.
“I thought I was having a dream,” I say as he attacks again, only this time I manage to grab his right forearm and hang on to it. Odd, I think, my voice doesn’t sound quite right to my ears. It sounds younger than the 59 years I’ve walked the Earth. 
“And why would you dream about me?” he growls, fighting to free himself from a grip I haven’t possessed in almost 30 years. “Having a nightmare, were we?” He reaches for my throat and begins to try and choke me with his left hand, inadvertently tugging the beard hairs on my neck.
“No sir,” I grunt. “I was actually hoping nothing would wake me from dreaming.” I’m trying to lean back and away from his hand while still maintaining my grip on his right arm.
“Rubbish!” he snorts derisively. “Why did Pan send you?! What are you here to do to me?!”
“Pan?!” I snap back, surprised at the vitriol in my voice. “That little bastard?! I’d kill him on sight if I ever saw him!” I snarl between gritted teeth.
“Balderdash!” He manages to snatch his right arm free but does not make another attempt to kill me – not yet at least. “No one hates Pan except me.”
“You’re wrong, sir.” I reply, adopting a more relaxed stance, my hands back up as more of a sign that I’m not armed and have no intentions of fighting. “I’ve hated that mosterous, evil little prick ever since my mother read me the story when I was five. You have no idea how many times I played at killing him and that damned crocodile.” He releases my throat, eyebrows raised.
He snorted again, convinced I’m lying.  “No little children love me,” he paused, a fleeting look of heartbreak gracing his handsome features. “No one loves me.” Though he had quickly wiped his face on his left shirt sleeve, his face is flushed more from his weeping than from anger. He knows I can see it and it gnaws at his pride.  “Get out, now!” He thundered. His right arm drops to about his rib cage as the all too familiar feeling of impending defeat washes over him.
“I don’t know how!” I reply, frustrated. “I don’t know how I even got here in the first place. And your door is locked from the inside!”
Hook looked over his shoulder suspiciously; indeed, the door was still bolted and as he looked around his state room, no windows were open either.  Confusion enters his mind.  “Who...?” he began. “How...?” He has finally noticed my left forearm and the tattoo on the inside of it. His eyes go wide with shock and disbelief.  “Where did you get that?!” he stares at my arm. There, in full color, is a hook. No, not just any hook but his hook and base, permanently etched onto my skin.
“I had that done about 10 years ago,” I reply, feeling a little less frightened. I hold my arm out for him to have a better look. I feel his fingers close tightly around my left wrist as he jerks my forearm towards him.  He looks at the claw at the end of his right arm, then at the tattoo several times.
“It’s… mine,” he finally stammers in complete disbelief. “Who did this? One of Pan’s….”
“No!” I interrupt. “I had it done in Charleston while I was vacationing at the beach. That little asshole has nothing to do with my tattoo!”
He slowly releases my wrist, still staring at the tattoo.  “But why would you want this…” he gestures with his hook, “as a tattoo?  It’s repulsive.  It disgusts me.”
I begin, feeling a knot trying to form in my throat, my stomach suddenly feels like a bottomless pit. “Sir, I have loved you for fifty-four years. Captain Hook, I love you so much I have, at times, feared it was sinful to love another person that much. Sir, I have carried you in my heart all these years, and I wanted something to let the whole world know where my allegiance lies.”  He likes it when I call him “sir”; I can see it in his ever so blue eyes, eyes I want to drown in.
He just stares at me, unblinking, his eyes evidently used to the darkness of his unlit cabin. I tell myself he’s probably wondering about my flannel lounge pants and V-neck t-shirt. I’m sure he’s never seen any attire like mine. He’s also still wondering whether or not to just gut me on the spot. I’m sure of it. Why should he trust this old man in his room, who somehow got in through a locked door.
“You’re lying,” he says finally, his words laced with scorn fueled by all his previous experiences. “I am loathsome. I have done unspeakable things.  I am horrid to look at. I am so detestable, so vile, so hideous that I can barely stand to look at my own reflection so how can anyone look at me without revulsion?”
I feel myself smile gently, my posture relaxes further, and, lowering my hands slowly I take a small step towards my childhood…my lifelong hero. I am inundated by love and empathy.
“You’re none of those things in my eyes. I’ve never felt anything but love towards you, sir. Well, and sorrow for what that hateful beast Pan did to you.”
“I will not tolerate your pity!” He says acerbically.
“It’s not pity.” I insist. “Sorrow is different from pity. Sorrow and grief are born from love. Pity is reserved for the stray dog that’s been so mistreated it doesn’t trust humans enough to even let you get close to it so it can’t be helped or fed or anything.” I heave a sigh. “And I do love you, so very much.” I realize that I’ve inadvertently just compared him to a stray dog and pray he doesn’t pick up on it. “I – love - you!”
“You what?” he stammered, shocked.  “But how?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was an enlightened child.” I grin for a moment but it’s a fleeting moment of satisfaction because Hook starts shaking his head.
“No,” he says flatly. “No, this cannot be. You must be lying to save yourself. NO ONE loves me. Do not try deceit with me… whoever you are. I am alone and unloved, and always will be.”
“I’m not lying, and you are not unloved!” I almost yell at him, a little angry for being called a liar. “I can’t help it if Pan has lied to you and…” I pause. Had Wendy and her brothers already visited Neverland?  “And any of the stupid children Pan has brought here. It’s not my fault they’re all blind as bats and gullible to Pan’s lies. I loved you from the first time my Mom read the story to me.”
“Story?” Hook queried, puzzled. “What story?”
“Um,” I begin, thinking how to put it delicately. He’s been hurt enough as it is, no need to heap more humiliation upon his heart. “Well, one of the children Pan brings here, she decides to leave and go back to her parents…”
“The storyteller!” he exclaimed. “I remember her. The Wendy.”
“Well, after she grows up, she and her husband write a book about her trip and adventures here.” 
“I thought she was different,” Hook says wistfully. “I thought… but no. No children…” he stopped short and looked back into the eyes of the strange man in his cabin. They were not critical of him. They did not hold him in contempt. There was no hate in them.  If eyes were truly the window to one’s soul, then this man had laid his bare for Hook to see.
“Before tonight I have never met anyone who claimed to love me, or even cared for me. Maybe Smee but….” His expression fell back to one of utter dejection and grief and he staggered back to the chair to sit before his knees buckled.
This time I follow him, again laying a hand on his right shoulder as I squat to look him square in the eyes. “I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you, so long as I draw breath into my lungs. And I’m not the only one. Peter has lied to you, because there are plenty of children who love Hook, and even more like me who never stopped or forgot you.”
He tried to look away but could not, even though he desperately wanted to. He could feel his eyes burning as they had earlier this evening before he started drinking. A single tear crept down his cheek, and he was consumed by shame and humiliation and closed his eyes. “Please go away,” he said hoarsely. Wasn’t it enough to be constantly harassed and humiliated by that flying demon child? Now he was confused and bewildered by the appearance of this strange man in his cabin and even more so by his words and tattoo.
Was he the one that was dreaming? Surely, he’d had enough to drink to be in an alcohol induced haze. Would he awaken in the morning to realize this was all a callous dream? He looked back up at the man. “What is your name?” he sighed glumly.
“It’s Edward, but Ed works too.”
“Edward?” Hook echoed. “Edward…” he said again, thoughtfully. The face that beheld him was still smiling, eyes twinkling with utter joy at being in his presence. “I know that name,” he says, “though I don’t remember… but Neverland makes one forget.”
“I have something I’d like to give you if I may, sir,” I ask, proudly raising my broken body to all of my five-foot, six inches height. “I’ve been keeping it safe for you for 54 years.”
“That’s an awfully long time, in some places.  What is it?” Hook asked suspiciously, but curiously.
“If you don’t mind, sir...” I quickly straddle Hook’s legs and plop down onto his lap, simultaneously wrapping both arms tightly around the man. I lay my head on Hook’s left shoulder, waiting to be torn asunder by the claw but I will not pull away. I will not hurt this poor, shattered soul further. If I die, I die happy.
Hook raised his eyebrows and stiffened briefly, then slowly relaxed. He found himself the recipient of the first affection, the first real hug he could remember receiving since his own childhood with Aunt Emily, ever so long ago. His first instinct was to shove the man away; centuries of rejection were hard to surmount.  The fellow began to speak softly but with so much conviction: “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Over and over until Hook could hear nothing else in his mind but those sincere pledges.
Then he felt it; a warm, peaceful sensation emanating from Edward and seeping into his own body, into his very soul. His arms slowly found their way around Edward, careful to keep the point of his claw turned away from the man and returned the hug.
I try to swallow the knot in my throat away; I don’t want to bawl in front of him, but I can feel my eyes leaking tears anyway.
Hook gazed down upon the head and took note of the silver that far outnumbered the darker hairs. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw a small boy asleep on his lap, but after blinking several times in disbelief he plainly saw the older gentleman who had called him ‘sir’ out of respect. Who left no doubt in Hook’s mind that he was, indeed, loved, by at least one soul. It eased some of his pain. It made his existence in this living Hell a little more bearable.
Hook stayed in the intoxicating embrace even after Edward became hoarse and ran out of ‘I love yous’ or just succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep with his head on Hook’s breast. Without purposely meaning to, he let his chin rest atop Edward’s head, heaving his own purging sigh. His eyelids fluttered and Hook gave in to the emotionally draining exhaustion – and in all probability the effect of the large amount of rum he had consumed earlier, and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 
He was alone again in his cabin when he awoke as grey dawn began to light up the sky, once again confused and perplexed. His guest was gone with no evidence he’d ever been there, and Hook’s cabin door was still bolted from the inside. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed his odd, bearded visitor. He slid the bolt open for when Mr. Smee would come with his tea and breakfast. He looked forward to it; for once he actually had a good appetite this morning and no hangover.
While he waited, he sat again in the chair with his arms folded across the back and pondered what had happened the previous night. He again felt very alone and lost, but he also felt the corners of his mouth flick upwards briefly as he heard a voice in his mind like a metronome: “I love you. I love you. I love you…” 
He found wispy, silvery hair, not very long, on the sleeve of his shirt. No, it indeed had not been a dream. Strange by all accounts, but as real as he was himself. Hook would spend many hours pondering exactly how his visitor had reached Neverland and if he would ever return. But he was left with one comforting thought; that no matter what else Pan took from him the imp could not change the fact that at least one soul loved him unconditionally.
I awaken with a start to the rumble of thunder and rain pounding on the roof of my house. Lightning flashes again and my heart breaks: I am no longer with him. I want to go back! I sit up on the side of my bed and weep bitterly until I have to go the bathroom to blow my nose, clear my sinuses, and wash my face. The very idea of an almost 60-year-old man crying like a child over a stupid dream…
I turn the bathroom light on to get my washcloth and dampen it with cold water. I look at myself in the mirror, eyes bloodshot and swollen from weeping and choking on my own snot… and then I see it. A single strand of long black hair, curly, on the right shoulder of my white undershirt. No one in this house has hair that long. It must be his. It has to be his! It wasn’t a mere dream after all.  I take the hair and carefully deposit it in an envelope, then tuck it away in my bedside stand. And though I already miss him dreadfully and wonder if I will ever cross into his world again, at least I have made sure that Captain Hook knows he is neither alone nor unloved.
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bedofthistles · 4 months
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The Little White Horse: Robin Minette
In continuation with my analysis of the novel, the Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Goudge, I want to cover the characters and the main themes of both the book and the movie.
Here's my thoughts and opinions one Robin De Noir, and Robin Minette, two wildly different characters
TL;DR
My enemy. 
My beloathed. 
The one I despise! 
This boy is insane, he is the definition of toxic masculinity, he’s only a child and already he sucks, and I know for a fact he will never get better because he is never punished for his actions. 
And what did he do wrong? 
Well first I would like to remind you all of my beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, baby-eyed Robin De Noir. I have no idea how we got Robin De Noir out of Robin Minette, but I am forever grateful. 
For starters, Robin De Noir takes the place of Mr. Cock in LWH. Where Mr. Cock has trapped the hare, Robin De Noir has, where Maria gets chased by Mr. Cock in the book, she gets chased by Robin De Noir in the movies (and yes, technically the Coeur De Noir and all of the De Noirs are chasing after her as well), where Maria and Mr. Cock run through the forest so she can show him the White Horse, she and Robin De Noir run through the forest in search of the pearls. Additionally, he is no longer Robin Minette, Loveday Minette’s son, but the son of the Coeur De Noir, and Loveday’s brother. 
One, this change is already ten times more dynamic. Throughout the book, we are only told that the De Noirs are wicked, and it isn’t until Maria’s last minute change of heart about them that suddenly they aren’t. Those poor people are demonized in the book, and are not given any sympathy. Now I hear you saying, the movie was the same! They were evil until Maria decided she needed Robin’s help! 
I need you to go back and give Augustus Prew his due, because that boy acted his ass off. I don’t think I’ll be able to go over all of his exemplary acting choices, and I may make a separate post for that, but that will require gifs and screengrabs. Anyway! There are several scenes that show us, the audience, that Robin De Noir is just a boy who is trying his damnedest to make his father proud of him. We see this when the Coeur De Noir calls him a ‘dolt’ after the rabbit trap, and you can see his face just fall, he is devastated, not that he lost the princess, but that he disappointed his father. 
We also see this when Robin quickly decides to help Maria. The very first time I watched this, I didn’t really understand his reasoning, but once I started thinking about it (probably about the time I started writing fic and needed to get inside of his head) I realized that he is fundamentally good, just born on the wrong side of the valley. Robin chooses the Valley over his father, he chooses to help Maria despite not even fully trusting her, he is beside her until the very end because he knows she is doing the right thing, because he loves the Valley and wants to save it. So, despite what we are told about the De Noirs (as by sir Benjamin, who calls them bandits, poachers, and plunderers) we know from visual cues, Robin De Noir’s desperation to be a good son, and his choices at the end, that the De Noirs are not purely wicked. 
Robin Minette on the other hand can die on a stick. Robin and Loveday Minette are actually a part of the Merryweather family (more on that later) and are not associated with the De Noirs at all. 
So what are all of Robin M’s sins? 
Well, if you’ve heard about the bird theory, it is the simple idea that when you call out “oh look, a bird!” the response of your partner/friend/companion should be “where!” Not because they are necessarily interested in the bird (though they should be) but because you are interested in the bird. The logic being that the person will listen to whatever random, boring, stupid thing you’re saying because they are interested in you, and are not looking at you as a source of entertainment. It’s a very simple, and beautiful concept, that shows a person who is interested in you, is interested in you! 
Robin Minette is not interested in Maria. 
I say this because in the book we are told multiple times that whenever Maria asks too many questions, Robin just walks away. He does not answer, or even asks her to stop, when he is astral projecting into Maria’s dreams, he just leaves the dream and wakes up. Again, this is in conjecture with one of Goudge’s morals: female curiosity is of the Devil. 
“All my life, Robin, I'll always tell you all about everything." “And I'll tell you," said Robin. “If I didn't you'd ask me so many questions that life would not be worth living."
This is not an okay lesson to teach to children, any boy or girl should not be learning that her voice does not matter, that her questions should be squashed, and that curiosity is a bad thing. I genuinely have no idea where Goudge got this idea from, other than it is just a very old and misogynist viewpoint. It’s not even Christian, as scripture encourages followers to study, and yes that includes women. 
I don’t think it is a harsh stance to take that a character who walks away from another while they are talking, is not interested, or in love with that character. Maybe possessive, but not in love, and it's certainly not the kind of love anyone should be idolizing. 
Furthermore, like most entitled men, Robin Minette has anger issues. I don’t want to quote the entire section, but I can post it somewhere because it is absolutely insane. 
After Robin and Maria defended Paradise Hill from the De Noirs, they go back to his house. Since it was raining, they had to change out of their wet clothes. For whatever reason, Loveday Minette decides to put her old wedding dress (that she never wore because she ran away) on Maria. 
Maria loves it, and asks if it can be her wedding dress, and Loveday M says yes. 
When Maria joins Robin in the kitchen so they can have tea, Robin asks what that is. 
“It's my wedding dress. I'm trying it on to see if it fits." "Are you going to be married?" asked Robin sharply, his munching jaws suddenly still. “Of course," said Maria, reaching for the cream. “You didn't expect me to be an old maid, did you?" “Are you being married today?" demanded Robin. “Of course she isn't being married today, Robin. She isn't old enough to be married yet. But when she is married she will wear that dress." [Loveday] “When you do marry, whom will you marry?" Robin asked Maria. Maria swallowed the last of her bread and cream and honey, put her head on one side and stirred her tea thoughtfully. “I have not quite decided yet," she said demurely, “but I think I shall marry a boy I knew in London." “What?" yelled Robin. “Marry some mincing nincompoop of a Londoner with silk stockings and pomade in his hair and a face like a Cheshire cheese?" The parkin stuck in his gullet and he choked so violently that Loveday had to pat him on the back and pour him out a fresh cup of tea. When he spoke again his face was absolutely scarlet, not only with the choke but with rage and jealousy and exasperation. “You dare do such a thing!" he exploded. "You--Maria --you-- if you marry a London man I'll wring his neck!"
Now, you’ll notice three things here: 
One, the fate of all Moon Princess’ is to get in a fight with her love, and if she doesn’t humble herself, she’ll be forced to leave Moonacre. This is something Maria knows at this point. 
Two, Robin is a thirteen, fourteen year old boy displaying this much anger, possessiveness, and audacity. This is not something he is punished for, and he gets away with this behavior. 
Three, his mother is right there???? And her chief concern is: 
“Robin," said his mother, “that's not at all the way to propose. You should go down on one knee and do it in a very gentle voice."  
Ma’am your son is a maniac and you’re giving him tips on how to propose properly? 
Now, I want to swing back to my first point. To state it very plainly, this is one of the reasons as to why people stay in abusive relationships for so long. Maria knows that if she and Robin hadn’t made up right then and there, she would have to leave Moonacre. This language and ideology puts the blame on the victim’s shoulders, making the victim feel as if they have to be the one to make amends, to fix what is broken, and appease the abuser. This is the cycle of abuse that is seen time and time again, and while Goudge does not frame this as an ideal relationship we can gather that based on all that Maria has learned, it is her job to keep the peace. 
Am I calling Robin Minette an abuser? Yes, yes I am. 
Maria immediately forgives his behavior, Loveday is obviously okay with it, because she does nothing to stop him or scold him, and Goudge obviously sees this as okay male behavior. 
It's preposterous and yet this book is only eighty years old, we can obviously see people who behave this way, and we all know people who are like this. However, I think we have finally pivoted to presenting this behavior as abusive in media and art. Too often we think of abuse as just physical, but so often it is emotional, financial, and sexual, and the consequence of that mentality is people suffering abuse thinking that they aren’t because they don’t get black eyes. 
Here, I would also like the mention the BBC miniseries, Moonacre. The Miniseries is boring, it’s praised for being a more direct adaptation of the book, however they do make some major changes, especially to the plot. They add this thing about the ‘Blackheart’s’ having their water supply being cut off, all their wells are saturated with saltwater, and they blame Sir Wrolf for cutting off a pipe that would lead freshwater back into the valley. In this, we do get Loveday and Robin (still mother and son) as De Noirs. Loveday is the direct descendant of Black William, and despite teaching her son to hate the Blackhearts, he is also a De Noir. Robin Minette in this movie is boring, he doesn’t get mad at Maria for asking questions, but all he really does is show up at convenient times to save her from the Blackhearts. He’s fine, he’s not as problematic as Robin in LWH, but his character is not as compelling as Robin De Noir in TSOM.
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dear-mrs-otome · 2 years
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Silvio Ricci - Smexy Butler Teim - Another Terrible Summary
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(Silvio: "Do something that makes me want to serve you.")
Here is my irreverent, only nominally-guaranteed accurate rendition of Silvio's butler story.
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One day, when Rio’s called away from the castle on business for one reason or another, Emma is woken up by Silvio of all people kicking in her door bright and early. He saunters in, gloating about how he’s heard Rio is gone and ordering her imperiously to accompany him as he goes out today.
Emma, of course, is less than thrilled by this idea and turns him down flat, much to his irritation. He insists that she doesn’t have grounds to refuse a guest’s request, and scrambling to come up with an excuse that will fit with her ‘noblewoman’ cover story she tells him that it’s her day of leisure and her father forbids her from going anywhere without a butler in attendance. No Rio, no butler, no outing - aw shucks.
But Silvio just looks all shrewd at that.  “So if there was a butler, there wouldn’t be any problem?”
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She hastily adds that Rio’s the only butler that’ll do for her, but Silvio dismisses that as her just being self-centered. She has a very very bad feeling as he leans over to say something she can’t hear to one of the servants, who looks baffled but leaves to do whatever he’s asked - and then he tells her she’d best meet him in the drawing room in a half an hour. If she tries to weasel out of it, he’ll have her brought there even if they have to make her, he threatens.
Furious at how goddamned IMPOSSIBLE this man is, she’s nonetheless resigned to having to comply…and thirty minutes later she’s outside the drawing room, bracing herself for whatever may come. Only to open the door and nearly keel over in shock at the sight that greets her - of Silvio, lounging on the top of a table dressed in a butler’s uniform.
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“So, you’ve got nothing to complain about this, do you Mistress?” Silvio points out all triumphant. “Now there’s no reason for you to refuse to go out.”
She’s still trying to wrap her brain around this whole thing, just abject denial NOPE NO NU-UH. Silvio as her butler?? It does not compute, especially given that his rude, lackadaisical attitude just proves that he doesn’t have any REAL intentions of serving her. She asks if he really wanted her to go out with him that badly, and he agrees that’s part of it - but the bigger part is how delightful it’s gonna be to stick it to that ‘damn dog’ Rio when he finds out that Silvio was Emma’s butler.
She tells him his attitude is shit for a butler, and he says that’s because he hasn’t accepted her as his mistress. And any lady who can’t control her butler is simply incompetent.
She’s bristling at that, firing back that she wouldn’t want a butler like him anyways, but that only seems to amuse him.
“Oh? Don’t get cocky. If I tell you I’m going to be your butler, you’re just going to have to go out with me,” he insists. “But mainly…if you want me to act like a proper butler - do something that makes me want to serve you. That’s the beautiful thing about dogs, isn’t it?”
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She’s trying and failing to ignore how her heart does an unsettling flipflop when he sticks his tongue out all provocatively at her with that.
Resigned, realizing he’s not going to give this up, she reluctantly agrees to the whole debacle, much to Silvio’s evil delight.
Much later, she’s back in her room utterly exhausted from taking him around Rhodolite all day. He’d wanted to sightsee apparently and she’d been his impromptu tour guide - but he’d never lose the rude boy attitude and she was drained from trying to hold onto his reins all day. Especially given that he hadn’t listened to a single thing she’d said.
Still…she supposes there’s some saving grace in how he had seemed to thoroughly enjoy every moment of today.
Now dressed back in his normal clothes, Silvio returns to her room and haughtily says she proved a more useful guide than he’d expected. She’s mainly just…did you still need something? And he proclaims he thought he’d give her a reward for her hard work today.
She’s freaking out as he pulls her in with his arms around her waist, spluttering about what he’s doing.
“What’s the use in getting upset over something like this? You’re my mistress, aren’t you?” he tosses back on a smirk.
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She’s still NOPE NOPE, trying to protest when he cuts her off by stroking a hand at her hip, as if chastising her for talking back, and she’s gotta snap her mouth shut on the noise that’s trying to escape her at that (you can practically hear Emma furiously just telling her brain NOT HOT NOT NOW hahaha)
He’s gloating about how she suddenly quieted down, and then his stupidly ridiculously handsome face (her words even not mine, the tsun is strong with this girl) is drawing near and she closes her eyes - only to feel his warm fingers and something cool at her ears, and she realizes when she reaches up to check and looks in the nearby mirror that he’s hung exquisite pink jeweled earrings from her ears.
He says that if she’s a lady she should be wearing splendid things like this - she’s too drab and a noblewoman’s gotta keep up appearances. Before he breaks out in a smirk. “Well…unless you are a commoner, right?”
She’s scrambling to cover for that, only making it worse when she tries to say she can’t accept something so expensive and he calls her out on the fact that a lady wouldn’t consider these all THAT expensive. And all haughty he says she can’t try and measure his standards by hers. With an arrogant laugh, Silvio suddenly turns his attention back to her ears, all mirth slipping away. “Be sure to keep them on in front of that damned dog.”
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She’s thinking OHHH so that’s what this is all about, but she’s certain he wouldn’t take them back even if she insists so she’s left with nothing to do but thank him for the gift. He finally lets her go and makes to leave, in all sorts of a good mood, when she notices he’s got some flower petals caught in the fur ruff of his cape. She calls out for him to wait, reaching out to pluck them free…
When he just yeets himself away from her like she’s scalded him, leaping far out of reach.
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He’s scowling and blushing and demanding to know what she’s doing, and she tries to explain about the flower petals.
He’s still scowling, even harder now maybe, but his face is still flaming she notes as they just stare at each other for a long long loooong silence.
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“...Your face looks red -” she starts to point out.
“You’re imagining things,” he interjects. “I don’t care if there are petals, don’t come near me.”
Suspicion finally dawns on her then, the inkling of an idea, and she literally starts hunting him down, prowling across the room until she’s close enough to reach him again, but before she can touch him he’s grabbed her hand and he’s scolding her that she can’t just do whatever she wants because she’s his mistress.
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Then he starts mussing up her hair and she’s squawking indignantly, demanding to know what he’s doing - they devolve into bickering where he tells her he doesn’t have all day to waste on her and she counters he seemed pretty dang free all day today!
“That was observation, stupid,” he scoffs, and after another brief stroke of her hair, he leaves the room as if running away.
Poor Emma is just left standing there, rooted to the spot, her hair still a rat’s nest as she’s trying to process what just happened. How it’s apparently alright for him to touch her…but not for HER to touch HIM??
But it hits her then that she may have just stumbled across his weak spot, and she thinks how if she learned anything from him today it was to suss out your opponents weakness and use it to make them obey you.
His words from earlier come back to her. “But mainly…if you want me to act like a proper butler - do something that makes me want to serve you.”
And thinking ahead to the next time Silvio says he’s going to be her butler, she laughs to herself - suddenly looking forward to the prospect.
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madwheelerz · 1 year
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Another Home Post
I figured that I could make a post about where the idea behind the manifestation theory comes from, talk about my thoughts behind timeline 0 and why I think there is a timeline 0, and what I personally think will happen with Will under this type of storyline or what I think has already been happening. I had some realizations while making this so I’ll talk about what the upside-down might be later. Even without many pictures this is long.
Why do I think it’s a game?
I think it’s a game because the idea of some things simply not being real or being controlled by a kid make quiet a few things make sense. The setting makes sense because it’s the home of the kids. The idea of a random government lab going to a small town in Indiana to run evil government experiments on little kids is one thing but add onto that a random group of Russians invading directly after the government base is deactivated and it’s extremely difficult to believe.
They could try to convince us. The Russians could’ve been clumsy and revealed a clue that could later be used to decipher the code for the machine, they could’ve needed to hack things for the code, or to find something hidden to figure out the code, but instead they made it a constant. They could’ve played it off and acted as if it wasn’t strange, but instead they have Suzie go over the information with Dustin to show just how absurd the idea is.
Why? It’s one thing for the code to be lightwork, it’s an entirely different thing to reinforce that idea instead of shutting it down. There’s also the linkage of everything to D&D. There’s this idea that the boys initially linked the idea of what took Will being related to the game, likely due to the it was a seven conversation, but the reality is that El is the one to really link the game to the events. Why would she do this if it wasn’t relevant? El isn’t fond of D&D and she doesn’t care much for it, but she isn’t wrong. Most of the events that occur can be traced back to the game.
The first thing we witness is Will being whisked away by the Demogorgon similar to the game. Before this Will was warned against informing Mike about the bad roll, but he does so anyway. Mike is very spacey during the entire conversation and overall, it’s a strange look.
Okay so why the manifestation theory though?
Mike is in the position of the DM when we’re introduced to him so if the game has been a game since the beginning it’s likely he would have started it. He has a peculiar understanding of not just the upside-down, but of El’s powers and the goals of the lab. The upside-down also seems very reflective of what Mike wants.
Mike’s playlist is also very peculiar when you cut out the romance songs. Albums referencing timelines, parallel lines, innerworlds. A song literally called “The Vale of Shadows”, interesting for someone who’s never been there. A song about voodoo against Vecna’s puppet-like imagery. The summary referring to a 5-hour D&D-session when none of the D&D sessions we see have ever been that short and the playlist is off by a little under two-hours, but the number does perfectly capture the number of seasons for the show.
Mike is referred to as the heart and leader in the most recent season and one thing that I don’t understand is why people think that’s a good thing. Will implies that without Mike the party would fall apart, which seems to be a pretty clear case of foreshadowing. What confuses we is why everyone thought the role of the heart was going to mean anything good when the scene before the van scene was of El being revived from a stopped heart and Max’s stopped heart is associated with Mike’s monologue and Mike is kept in frame for part of the speech about Max’s stopped heart.
This season is also the first time we hear of a leader being accused of being behind everything. I mean Jason attributed everything from the beginning to the current events happening in the show to the game. When considering Eddie this doesn’t make sense. When considering Mike? When considering that we pan directly over his family when “hiding him” comes up? When considering Mike is a leader who has been there from the beginning? It begins to click. It also explains why they would’ve even included that absurdly long speech in the first place.
Timeline 0: What is it and why?
When first coming up with the manifestation theory almost everything was straightforward. Everything except the “why?”. It was easy to see where the idea of a game coming to life was coming from and that Mike would be doing it, but what wasn’t easy was understanding why Mike would suddenly start bringing his game to life. So, I went back a little.
What we know about powers is that they’re pretty trauma based and generally unlocked that way. Honestly, given the option my guess would’ve been time powers for Mike because of how much he is associated with running out of time and the constant clock imagery, but I thought maybe that wasn’t what was happening except. The time references were insistent, so I decided to take another look at them.
When Will tells Mike that “it was a seven” the Wheeler car next to them has a seven on it.  
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Which is interesting because later we see Jonathan go to Lonnie’s looking for Will. He tries multiple doors and some of them are locked. Lonnie is aware that Will is missing, but his entire demeanor doesn’t really give off the picture of innocence especially knowing he could have called Joyce back and his response as to why he didn’t was “I don’t know,”. Something is up with that man.
There’s also all the parallels between Will and Billy and the Phineas Cage thing. No longer Cage -> No longer Will -> Billy. The scene itself goes from Will to Max because Max is observing him, but the two of them aren’t really that different. Billy and Will, on the other hand, absolutely are, and it fits the theme of season three referencing Billy as “another” Will. William -> Will -> Billy. Both Will and Billy are alternative nicknames for William. No longer Will, but now Billy, maybe?
So how does this tie in with everything? Will is referred to as “zombie boy” when he comes back and prior to his disappearance into the upside-down he’s dressed like a time-traveler. I think there are two timelines here. One where Will is taken by the upside-down and one where Will is murdered. By who? Who other than Lonnie?
The show enforces the idea that we are in the one. The one timeline where Will isn’t taken by his Lonnie. In the other timelines, the 99, Lonnie is the culprit. He just doesn’t happen to be this time.
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Let’s recap with Lonnie. He’s evasive as though he’s done something wrong, one of the doors in his house is locked when Jonathan goes to check, he draws attention to his new car, and he’s keeping tabs well enough to know when Will’s body is found and how it’s suspected that he died.
A bit odd for someone who didn’t even seem interested enough to call his ex-wife back. We only see Lonnie in relation to Will’s disappearance and death. We see him when Jonathan goes looking for Will and again at Will’s funeral. These are some very bad associations. What does Billy hint at for the first timeline? I think that Billy’s entire subplot in season three serves as a hint to what happened to Will in the first timeline.
Billy is kidnapped by the mind flayer and eventually killed by it. Will isn’t killed by Lonnie but is instead abducted at first. He’s killed later and his body is left at the quarry. Let’s look at Billy’s first victim, Heather. He kidnaps her and stuffs her in the trunk of his car, gagged and fearful. Who else was suspected of being in someone’s trunk? Will. Jonathan checks Lonnie’s trunk specifically before he leaves, and this is particularly interesting when we remember the seven on the Wheeler’s car during Mike and Will’s exchange. There is a car involved in this.
It's likely Will was drowned prior to his body being left at the quarry hence all the ice bath imagery and the comment about being frozen half to death. So Lonnie kidnaps Will, makes him do things ala “he made me do it”, Will stands up to him, and Lonnie drowns him. It’s interesting to note that the memory connected to Billy’s death and makes him stand up to the mind flayer, the one of his mother, involved a seven foot wave.
There’s also a shared song between Will and Billy’s playlist, “Carry on My Wayward Son,”. This would explain why Billy’s playlist is important to enough to stay up and why the “Letter to Willy” vs “Dear Billy”. Why that similarity between Will and Billy is pushed.
So, what’s going on with Will then?
His time is broken. He isn’t meant to be here. The rules of space-time were broken to offer him a chance to live and it’s become a consequence. That’s why Will’s watch is often covered and why he may glitch next to clocks almost like he’s fading out of existence.
If Mike is the one making the story, then it’s one crafted for Will. It’s exactly what we see depicted in the beginning of the series during the first two D&D games. Mike is the one making the plot, but the one whose decision decides if they lose or win is Will.
Anyway. I might make a version of this with more pictures in the future.
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seph7 · 13 days
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The Spokesman-Review
Spokane, Washington Est. May 19, 1883
J.T. Walsh Masterful Playing Good-Old-Boy-Gone-Psycho
Fri., Oct. 17, 1997
He’s kidnapped Kathleen Quinlan and tormented Kurt Russell in “Breakdown.” He’s hired Nicolas Cage to bump off his cute wife, Lara Flynn Boyle, in “Red Rock West.” And he’s lusted after his baby sitter, Alicia Silverstone, in “The Babysitter.”
His name may make you mutter “J.T. who?” But in person, J.T. Walsh’s face is instantly recognizable, even if removed from the good-old-boy-gone-psycho roles he’s mastered on screen.
Looking more like a guy from the plant you’d spot at the bar after quittin’ time, Walsh doesn’t act or dress the part of a celeb. Wearing a well-worn and stained pair of jeans and a button-down shirt that hasn’t seen an iron, Walsh is a refreshing change from The Stars we see in People magazine. Joking about playing “ethically challenged” characters - a term he borrowed from a reporter - Walsh says he’s content playing the bad guy.
“It’s fun,” says the 53-year-old actor who didn’t break into the biz until he was 31. “I mean what the hell, what’s the choice? Or another way of looking at it is: Tom Cruise gets women one way, I get them another. I’ve just got to tie ‘em up.”
In the tense pulse-pounder “Breakdown,” now on video, Walsh does just that. As a trucker who offers a hand to Russell and Quinlan, whose car has gone kaput in the desert, he’s at his devilish best.
It’s one of Walsh’s most satisfying roles, especially since the director allowed him to do what he wanted: demonstrate “the banality of evil.”
Gaining trust and then stomping on it is what Walsh’s character, Red, does. It’s a method of manipulation you hear about all too frequently on the news, Walsh says, as “normal”seeming individuals gain the confidence of the unsuspecting, then terrorize them. That’s what is really scary, he says.
Although Walsh doesn’t create a buzz like his “Breakdown” co-star Russell, he has had his share of embarrassing moments when fans realize who he is. “At the movies I was taking a leak one time and this guy said next to me, ‘A Few Good Men.’ That never would have happened in New York.”
Although Walsh’s asking price might be a pittance compared to Russell’s, he isn’t whining. “It’s a business,” he says. Stars getting millions are “just being Americans. It’s raw capitalism. What I find disturbing is the expectations people put on these people,” he says, referring to the close scrutiny of box-office figures.
Walsh is glad he doesn’t have to be so dependent on a film’s success. “Like Robert Mitchum said: “I just do what comes next.”’
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sailoryooons · 11 months
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WIP Wednesday
EXTRA long sneak peek at my witch Jin fic I'll be posting this weekend for a collab. It's a friends to lovers and angst piece with lots of witchy magic hehe
Seokjin is good at holding grudges. Even as a child, his mother always said he had a tough time letting things go. He never knew how right she would be. His mother’s words are all he can think about as he storms through the dark of the forest, shadows whispering about him as he looks for the lone hut in the very dark of the woods. 
Little hut, little hut
Hidden in the wood
Little hut, little hut
Up to no good
If his parents could see him now, he knows they would be broken. Tear-streaked and shaking, a lost boy alone in the woods and drowning in anger so hot that the ground scorches beneath his feet. Looking for a salve. Looking for vengeance. 
Little hut, little hut
Alone in the gloom
Little hut, little hut
Silent as a tomb
Blood witches are dangerous. Seokjin knows this, everyone knows this. A blood witch is the reason why his parents are dead and he is storming through the darkness in the throes of madness. But Seokjin is only thirteen and full of pain and desperation, vowing to never let something happen like this again. If he has to use a devil to defeat a devil, he will. 
Little hut, little hut
Across the dark stream
Little hut, little hut
Wait for the scream
A dark stream wends its way through the trees. Seokjin gets a running start and jumps across the whispering waters. When he lands on the other side, he waits. It took a lot of searching to find someone to tell him how to find the witch in the woods. No one comes here, especially not in the dead of night on Beltane. 
They say only evil comes from the little hut in the woods. Seokjin knows now that it isn’t true. Evil comes from anywhere and everywhere, even from the people that one least expects. Evil killed his parents. Evil is why he is alone, crying on the edge of the stream, waiting for the sound of a banshee's call. 
He hears it then. A one-note wail, thin and high-pitched. His blood goes cold and the fight in him nearly goes out of him at the sound. His heart begins to pound so loud that it’s all he can hear, the thundering beat of panic and terror as he realizes what he’s about to do. 
“Little hut, little hut,” a voice that he cannot see calls to him. There is no hut that Seokjin can see. Only omnipresent darkness, cloying the air in front of him. A tingle skitters over his arms and he becomes acutely aware of another presence there with him in the dark. “I call to thee. Little hut, little hut, come to me.” 
Seokjin blinks rapidly a few times and sees the outline of a hut in front of him. It has a blurry shape like it’s really the idea of a house. It’s so shadowed and opaque that he’s not entirely sure if it’s really there. He walks toward it anyway, one foot in front of the other, looking at the hut. 
If a home could be a phantom, he thinks this is what the hut is. There is a vibrational pull here, a dull buzz in his veins as he gets closer and closer to where the blood witch lives. His stomach turns and his instincts beg him to leave. There is evil in this place. He knows it. Can feel its oily presence like a poisonous slick in his veins. 
A door - or rather what he imagines is a door shape - stands open in the hut. Inside is eternal darkness like Seokjin has never seen before. The buzzing in his veins has become stronger, an itch he can’t scratch. A ringing in his ears. 
Sometimes to beat evil, you must use evil. So Seokjin steps into the house despite all the reasons he should turn around and run. Because he is alone, he is in pain, and he needs some sort of penance. Justice. 
So he asks the blood witch for a favor. 
Little hut, little hut
Hear my strife
Little hut, little hut
Ruin this life 
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