#Clown pov

[nostarsign]

pov: I'm the clown nurse telling you the clown doctor will see you now. Your injury? ...fractured funny bone.

[humanhusbandrywithecho]

Humans don't seem to have us cat clowns well documented, so I will just have to educate the humans.

Often, we are low-energy but often we get spikes of being more high-energy. What you do seem to know is that you gave the name cat clown due to us sharing certain visual and behavorial resemblance to house cats. However, we have no relation and use this resemblance to lure them in, as they are a favored choice of food. We are also quite good at mimicking some of the sounds they make. Don’t be afraid of us, we mostly don't eat humans. There are some who do but it is mostly considered taboo. Uh your pets aren't safe though. Obviously. They are very delicious. Some of us feel that eating such tasty creatures is inclownane and will instead eat rodents... especially the ones you like to keep as pets. In that sense, we maybe aren't so different to cats. But we are clowns! We are not cats. I swear if one of you calls me a cute kitty one more time- We also eat sugary stuff. Give me cotton candy and maybe I will be your friend. But then again, maybe not. Also, please stop locking us in tiny spaces. We need indoor and outdoor environments available to us. When we are energetic, we need to be able to go outdoors to be active. But I promise we're not an invasive species like your cat!

[betaminshitto]

"i really am a coward, huh" - shanks probably

[sidsinning]

not only is the new suicide squad anime an ISEKAI- they made Joker your HOT BISHOUNEN YANDERE EMO ANIME BOYFRIEND?

BASED OFF THIS DUDE BTW

[tethered-heartstrings]

[alienssstufff]

moar You Could've Applied Online fanart but its this duo in particular uvu

[keydekyie]

boop!

[howinkonvenient]

more normal spinel fans: what if she's still heartbroken about pink diamond abandoning her and has breakdowns about it isn't that so sad

me: what if she's so insecure about her duty of being a best friend that in her efforts to prove she wasn't a fuckup she learns the painful way that she even never knew the first thing about her friend to begin with

she can't name anything pink was interested in or what she liked to do outside of the games spinel played with her

cause spinel never really got to know her (because she was made explicitly as a toy that pink couldn't break and was made by the diamonds who do not know how friendships work (a friend isn't something you create it's a relationship that you develop overtime) except she's also super sheltered and struggles to relate to people outside of the fun and games she's supposed to be facilitating)

and pink never really spent the time to know spinel either (because she was obsessively nonconfrontational and didn't yet see gems below her as capable of being fully realized people, and this was immediately after losing her real friend and she had her walls up pretty high as a result anyways)

mmm the pain of being such a terrible friend that not only were you made to replace a pearl to begin with, your friend had to replace you with another pearl, of all gems

and she was right to, you think, angrily, bitterly

what if she feels an unreal level of guilt about having a near world destroying meltdown and how she tried to kill a kid directly even tho she knew she was never in the right for it. that self destruction forever ruining her chances of becoming friends with the one person kind enough to reach his hand out to you (even tho he really shouldn't have)

do you think that would fuck up all her future encounters beyond a level where she can handle it, do you think in her desperation to be the good friend she needs to be she might repeat her mistakes all over again?

anyways......

[beanghostprincess]

Young Shanks always did the dumbest things for Buggy to pay attention to him and think he was the coolest guy in the world, but it never worked and it only ended up with Buggy getting angry (thinking Shanks was just trying to show off) and Shanks all sad and looking like a wet depressed cat.

I think one day he does something really, really dumb. Dumber than usual. He sees Buggy walking over the railing of the ship once (he was born to be a clown. Part of the circus. He has a good sense of balance) and thinks that it's the coolest thing ever, and perhaps that if he does the same, his best friend will notice him. So he gets on the railing and yells "Hey Bugs! Do you think I can speed run to the end of the railing?!". Buggy, of course, is uninterested and also extremely tired of him already (besides, does he really have to always try and be better than Buggy at everything? Why can't he have this thing for himself???) and he just looks at Shanks deadpanned and says "Yes, and also fall and drown and kill yourself in the process". So Shanks starts running.

And he falls into the water. Because he's a fucking idiot. And Buggy was right. Buggy just rolls his eyes and calls for Rayleigh to help Shanks (the last time it happened he got really angry Shanks had jumped to save Buggy instead of calling him instead).

While Rayleigh is scolding Shanks for his stupid behavior, the young pirate isn't paying attention to him because he keeps staring at Buggy from a distance and hoping for him to turn around from the other side of the ship. But he looks like he doesn't even care Shanks almost drowns. Shanks just hugs his knees close to his chest and covers himself more with the blanket they've given him.

Rayleigh keeps talking, though. "How many times do we have to tell you guys not to pull shit like this, especially on calm days. And I get that you're young and dumb, but I'd appreciate a little bit of collaboration to fix the dumb part- I- Why would you even do that anyway? Shanks?" And he turns his head around to see Shanks' eyes following Buggy's every movement from afar. The man can just sigh and pat him on the head and say: "I get it, but putting your life at risk like this for-"

"I would do anything for him."

He says it so seriously... His eyes never leave Buggy, either. It sends shivers down Reyleigh's spine, for once. But then he notices the kid's trembling lips, and quite obviously not like this from the cold. And his heart just breaks.

[tcfactory]

Summary:

In Proud Immortal Daemon Way where everyone has a daemon - an animal manifestation of their soul - Shen Yuan transmigrates into an NPC hallmaster whose daemon was killed by the cruel, jealous Shen Qingqiu during a night hunt. It's something Shen Yuan knows from PIDW, but can't prove because since he woke up on the mountain he hasn't seen Shen Qingqiu's daemon even once. Nobody has. Without proof of the scum villain's wrongdoing he can't do anything but wait until Shen Qingqiu fabricates an excuse to kick him off the mountain and get rid of him for good. But Shen Yuan isn't someone who would take this lying down, oh no! He will make the best of his time here on the mountain by making sure that Luo Binghe - future Protagonist, gentle white lotus who will arrive any week now - will have his path to a better future paved and ready. Shen Yuan has plans to drag the scum villain to justice and expose him for the monster he is if he so much as lifts a hand against Binghe! And to do that he might make use of an unlikely friend he made during his time on the peak: a scarred, reclusive wolf living in the bamboo forest that has some connection to the scum villain.

So, about that 'short' JiuYuan week Daemon AU fic...

[fandom-eater67]

I'm the one who gripped you tight-

and shook you so hard to try to get you to see something in yourself that I was the only one who thought to try and see..

and you didn't until your hands touched the dirt of the earth and never resurfaced again.

[humanhusbandrywithecho]

A warning to future human keepers

Humans are very difficult to keep as pets because a lot aren't too keen on being a "pet". They seem to much prefer being treated like a roommate, although many that I have brought into my home don't seem to mind being a stay-at-home roommate. Some do mind though, and you should let them work a job. You cannot treat humans like other animals because they are a very intelligent species and will demand the same amount of respect out of you as we (atleast the more social of us) would give to our fellow clowns.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 3 - If you could’ve seen

Dp x DC: Regent!Jazz, Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 2

“If you could’ve seen how I looked yesterday, a hopeless disaster, but I’m getting better at being faster.” -Never Look Back by The Nearly Deads

Jazz wasn't so proud to admit that she had many regrets about her life choices.

Taking the Crown was a fine line between terrifying and glorifying, with the many scars and callouses Jazz now bore from the hours of training (at Pandora's behest) a misgiving that was required for the sake of survival.

Hurting her little brother was the heaviest weight on her chest.

It hadn't been that Jazz meant to cause Danny pain from escaping Amity Park, but he'd already died there once from the portal and almost a second time when her parents the older Fentons captured Phantom in a thermos and strapped him down.

They had crossed a line, the point of no return, and Jazz was done trying to fix her broken family. The moment they cut into Danny while he screamed "I'm alive, I'm alive!" was the renouncement of their right to their own lives.

Jazz had enacted Vengeance for her little brother, the hero in death he shouldn't have had to become. For all the Unquiet Dead and Neverborn ended by the Fentons.

For her lost childhood. For her lost humanity.

Slash, slash, slash went the Regent's sword. Blood spattered the walls of the lab, mixed with the ecto already there from a fight for one's existence.

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already. 

Frostbite would later, admist the ice and snow of the Far Frozen, that as a Liminal Jazz had triggered a rage state due to both her emotions and her unintentional ecto-starvation.

It wasn't enough to absorb it from the environment anymore, not with the Crown and summoning her ecto-sword. She would have to consume raw ecto to replenish her levels and diminish the chances of another blackout rage.

(Frostbite and Danny would never know that Jazz was fully aware of her actions.)

(She just didn't care anymore, Danny was more important.)

Danny had healed over the few months they were in Gotham, his incision wound now a grotesque Y-shaped scar over his scrawny chest that would never fade. His ecto-levels were improving with constant exposure to a natural portal, corrupted as it was, and slowly he was gaining back his sense of self.

Jazz didn't talk much anymore, but Danny was all too happy to argue with her- about her ripping him away from his haunt, killing his parents, his friends, and going out as a vigilante almost every night.

(As she had guessed, Danny was relieved that the Joker was dead and not a ghost.)

(He'd never know that Joker had returned as a ghost, but the Regent crushed his core before he could even form words.)

(Both Sam and Danny approved of her trophy though.)

At the other end of Crime Alley, tucked away in a safe house, Jason Todd was dying.

Well, so he thought, as his heart ached in his chest and beat so fast it could almost rip itself from his rib cage.

(If he was a lesser man, he might’ve gone crying to Bruce for help, but not in this life.)

Jason had collapsed on his bed in full gear, sans helmet, as the pain began to wrack his body. Was he truly dying again?

(He wasn’t ready to. Not again.)

And to think his night started so well.

He’d woken up a few minutes before his alarm went off, the hazy dregs of sleep trying to lure him back in, back to the rather nice dream he’d been having.

(Feminine build in bloody armor, a teasing grin, soft lips against his own.)

He didn’t even have patrol that night, his one day off a week he could just relax as Jason, not Jay Peters or Red Hood- only for it to be ruined by the emergency alert on his phone announcing that his murderer had broken free again.

Fucking Joker.

Old familiar rage simmered low in Jason’s gut, but much to his surprise, his vision didn’t tint neon green. No haze of being on the verge of a blackout rage at the mere thought of his murderer.

Nothing.

(What was going on?)

It wasn’t as if the Pit Madness could just be gone, right?

Right?

(Jason Todd was no a fool, the Madness was still there.)

(Just… sedated. Like it didn’t need to boil to the surface anymore where it concerned his murderer.)

And for the first time in a very long while, Jason felt like himself again.

Until the agony began.

A/N:

{I swear I try writing something that’s not angst for once and this is what I get. Great. Well as long as someone likes it, right?}

{Oh and sliding in an AU for Jason too! Not Halfa!Jason, because I’m not a particular fan of how I would write it. But something more akin to what he was when he dug himself out of his grave pre-dip in corrupted Ectoplasm ala League of Assassins.}

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

"I was enchanted to meet you.

( Please don't be in love with someone else.

Please don't have somebody waiting on you. )"

Except it's Shuggy.

[moscnios]

Hello! Would it be okay to request for Buggy the Clown? I was thinking of Buggy x Mime! Reader whose ability is to create invisible force fields? When she panics, her ability is triggered automatically, so she has accidentally used it on Buggy more than once because she feels awfully shy around him. So... I was thinking about reader talking to him for the first time to apologize and confess that when he is around she panics? Also, perhaps Buggy telling her that she should speak more because her voice is cute to him. Thank youuu 😊

✸     now playing  …     APOLOGY BASKET。

✸     pairing! …  mime!gn!reader x buggy the clown.

✸     type of love! …  romantic.

✸     cw(s)! …  mentions of injuries. no pronouns used. reader wears mime-styled makeup. very nervous reader. not proofread.

✸     wc! …  0.8k.

✸     notes! …  more of me writing in 2nd pov or at least attempting. i did not know how to end this🧎🧎 but thank you for this really cute request !! thank you so much for requesting !! <333

Standing at the door of the captain’s quarters was daunting. The mahogany door with the clown’s face carved into the center, staring you in the face reminding you of what you had done and why were stood out here in the first place.

Out of your usual attire and over-the-top makeup, you had settled for a simple t-shirt and a pair of slacks. Your sweaty palms were gripped onto a straw basket filled with different goodies, ones you had hoped your captain would appreciate, ones that would make him forgive you for your fourth blunder of this week at the expense of his nose.

It wouldn’t have been the first time you accidentally wacked Buggy in the face with your ability. Though you had hoped it would be the last. You didn’t know how many more times until he threw you overboard.

Usually, you could control your powers and make great use of them. You were a great ally in battle and would make a beautiful asset to the team. That is why Buggy recruited you to join the Buggy Pirates. You were flattered that he sought you out to recruit you personally. You couldn’t let him down.

Though that is what it seemed like you had been doing. Blunder after blunder all ending in injuries for your captain. The most recent error happened on the deck of the Big Top.

It was high noon, a rather slow day with nothing much to do than look out on the open sea and see if you could find anything other than the blue salt waters. Of course, you had found a much more interesting sight on board, your captain.

Anyone with eyes could see that you had the hots for Buggy. It became even more apparent as he was the only victim of your accidental force fields to the face when he got a little too close.

He walked over to you, standing next to you with his arms folded over his chest, grumbling about how lazy everyone was. Not you though, you could do no wrong. You were one of the few he never had any complaints about, well other than your force field mishaps.

He glanced over at you, looking at your makeup. You decided to try a new style with your look today. You hadn’t even expected him to really notice.

“Your makeup looks really nice. It brings out your eyes,” He complimented you without much thought. Even though you sort of short-circuited and unleashed a force field right to the nose.

Now here you stood at his door with an apology basket, hoping to make it up to him for hopefully the last time.

You raised your hand, lightly knocking on the wooden door. You had hoped he was asleep or couldn’t hear you so you could just return to your own chambers. But you could hear movement from inside of the room, footsteps coming toward the door, giving you little time to even prepare what you were going to say.

The door opened slowly, Buggy’s head peeled out of the opening, giving you a glimpse of him with his hair down. His nose was still wrapped in bandages. Believing it was one of the others, he answered the door with a scowl. Upon seeing your face his scowl was surprised by a surprised look.

He had never seen you outside of your mime getup. He hardly recognized you, “( y/n )?”

You held out the basket, “I’m sorry, Captain!” He fully opened the door, taking the box into his hands, slightly confused. You continued, “I…uh…I wish to apologize for my force fields colliding with your face. You see…when I panic and don’t know what to do with myself, they sort of…form. And around you, I get nervous so they…just form. I don’t mean to hurt you! Honest! I umm…”

“You didn’t have to do get me anything, you know. You’re one of the best members of this crew. Even if you gave me a black eye, I’d still keep you around,” He joked, “Though please don’t give me a black eye.”

“I swear not to, Captain!” You playfully saluted to him.

Buggy shook his head, “It’s late. Hurry off to bed, that’s an order.”

You turned on your heel and started to walk down the hall. However, you stopped upon hearing him repeat your name.

“And ( y/n )?”

You turned over your shoulder, “Yes, captain?”

“You should talk more, your voice is cute and pleasant to listen to. Have a good night, ( y/n ).” He smiled.

“Y-You too, Captain.”

With that, he returned to his quarters, closing the door behind him. Leaving you in the hallway, hands clasped over your mouth to keep the sounds of pure glee from leaving your mouth, so he couldn’t hear. You had to save that for the comforts of your own chambers.

[yoimix]

「 from eden 」

if the rtawahist theory of parallel universes is true, you are certain that you would hate ALHAITHAM in every single one of them. 

it is an ambitious theory, however. alhaitham calls it fiction.

“that’s not what the algorithm does,” he grumbles, lowering his head to rest his forehead against his palm. he looks nearly as distressed as a pyro fungus on water.

“i did not draw the wrong chart.”

“you filled in incorrect values.”

“no way.”

“i can’t believe i’m here with you at 3am.” he heaves his deepest sigh yet, mingling into the cold air outside puspa cafe. you prefer the warm, coffee-scented interior, but to get your words across, you need them to ring inside his thick skull.

“well, what else were you gonna do? sleep?” you roll your eyes.

“yes.”

you pull a face at his expressionless response. 

“now, let’s go over the algorithm again,” he presses, eyes piercing enough to draw you closer, and bowlike lips sporting his regular frown. there is no need for him to be here. he just happened upon you at the cafe five hours ago, just to point out the mistake in your assignment. of course, that didn’t end well. you’d rather deep fry and eat a consecrated shell than let a man tell you how to solve your problems. so, he didn’t need to be here. he just never left.

the answer to that is simple: in every single universe, he will choose you over anyone else.

not that you’re aware. alhaitham makes sure you never will be. he’s unfamiliar with languages of the heart; and no amount of your biting remarks and teasing voice, your pensive smile and zaytun perfume, will get him to pronounce the syllables right.

he looks over at you, your full lips moving at rapid speed as you reiterate the contents of your lecture. the side of your neck is exposed, and the distance isn’t so wide that he can lean in comfortably. no, if he did, his shoulder would touch yours, and his hot breath would be against your skin. then maybe he’d get to hear your words die in your throat. these few inches are haphazard, bordering the lines between friends and a face you cannot stand. 

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy, he thinks.

“even if this language has the structure you claim, it’s nearly impossible to know. this poem could be dating to thousands of years ago!” you exclaim, growing frustrated, “are you sure about this? i’m starting to think it can’t be deciphered.”

you’re done with translating the first part. it is as abstruse as can be, and you’ve been scratching your head over it for the past three days. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to solve it like a riddle, or agonize through the steps of the translation algorithm to complete. though, the embodiment of agony is already seated beside you.

what is the difference between me and the sky? 

hell, if you know. you’re not even sure what’s happening anymore. the letters float across your vision, little taunts in their movement. teetering on the edge of dropping out, you groan again.

“i think you should get some rest,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

your shoulders sag, and alhaitham wonders if he said something wrong. 

“don’t patronize me.”

“i am not.”

“i never know what you mean, and what you don’t,” you mutter, picking up your pen again to scribble notes on the corners of the paper. it contains alhaitham’s neat explanations, arrows indicating grammar and some numbers signifying the presumed utilization years of this lost language. yours looks like a little kid’s next to his.

but i say what i mean, he thinks. is there a point to saying it out loud? his chest constricts at the idea of you curling your lips, dismissing his chest laid bare for your predefined ideas. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. but something in your voice betrays this thought of his. 

his aventurine eyes settle over you. but you bear no distaste, only mild annoyance from this wall you’ve hit. he must say, you’re a commendable scholar. the relentless pursuit of knowledge has far more meaning than simply possessing it, and he’s seen your weary form in the house of daena at too many midnights. you are self-sufficient and he’s certain you’ll arrive at the answer anyway.

“i’ll be leaving then,” he says, standing up. “i hope your darshan doesn’t find you groveling by a stack of papers in the morning. it’s rather unbecoming of their paragon.”

a shout of exasperation leaves you, your shoulders tense.

“it’s because of you the haravatat are known as snobs!” you shoot, crossing your arms.

“it is your choice to believe in rumors,” he responds, idly gazing at your form. “it reflects you more than me.”

“do you always have to be so robotic?”

“i’m more well off than most, so i doubt changing my mannerisms will be of benefit to me.”

you exhale, on the verge of exasperation. “do you ever hear yourself? i can’t imagine the agony your poor roommate goes through.”

“kaveh has nothing to do with this.” he grits his teeth. 

“no one has anything to do with you, alhaitham.” you stand up, glaring at him. “to you, people are no different from cats, or dogs, or- or flies—you don’t seem to understand that our languages were made to bring us closer.”

“they were invented for communication. a group that understands each other survives longer.” 

that is true. but you’re not wrong either, even if you’ve chosen more romantic phrasing. 

“i think—”

“archons,” you fume. “what about poetry? and literature, and dedication pages at the start of novels? we do it for each other.”

“your own perception adds substance to sentimental texts. i cannot agree with the poets. they led far different lives than i do.”

you scoff. “your little bubble of comfort is all you care about, don’t you? pray tell why you bothered with this anyway. was it to stroke your own ego? i... i genuinely believed you wanted to help.”

that one stung a little.

“you seem to have an entire image of me already. do i have to be present here?”

you heat up in the face, nearing a boiling point. you’ll have to apologize to enteka for causing a commotion; but your mind is heavy and you cannot quite think clearly. 

“i understand that you don’t bother with what people think of you. but you could at least be honest with me- without- without your damn glaring, or sarcasm or—”

“i don’t look at you with the intention to glare.” he raises his voice for once. “i cannot let you see what i’m experiencing because i don’t know what it is yet—and it is imperative you don’t poke your nose into this.”

his chest heaves as he steadies his breathing. there is nothing you can say, not when you’re taken aback by his quiet outburst.

“and i’m not frowning like you think i am. i am simply not wearing an expression at all. my collection is unordered but i mark my books alphabetically when i lend them to you. i say i bring an extra cup of coffee to have a second fill even though i know you will ask to have it. i despise the conditioning in people that they must pair up in meaningful ways for a good life. and despite that...”

he catches his breath, not realizing he was holding it in.

your eyes have softened by now, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“...if i were to end my speculations and call this love, i would be satisfied.”

you part your lips and close them again. to expect an answer, perhaps, is a grave overestimation on his part. some things are better left unsaid. it’s how languages die.

alhaitham sighs. “right. it’s too strong a word. i mean to say i feel comfortable around you. and content. though i never thought there was anything amiss in my life. as for affection, i am not familiar with this kind. and—”

you cup his face, still at a loss for words. “you talk so much. i never realized.”

“last time, you said i don’t talk enough.”

“i just like the sound of your voice.”

he purses his lips, and swallows his words. once more, you have decided to speak in a language he has no expertise in. the drumming in his heart says he cannot wait to read poetry in it.

“no more sighing, haitham. and no more glaring. no sarcasm. and no irony.”

he furrows his brows, but he makes no attempt to release himself from your touch.

“say it again. your conclusion.”

his lips part, a sharp breath running through his lungs.

“i believe this is the notion of love. every gesture points to it.”

“is your head clouded?”

“no. it’s never been clearer.”

and he lets you lean in closer, closer till your lips are brushing against his.

“so?” you whisper.

it takes him a moment. he closes the distance, and though he has rarely felt devotion, he moves his mouth against yours in a fervent prayer. carefully, he rests his hand against the small of your back, more to steady himself than you.

this makes sense to him. you’re so familiar. like dragging his fingers on his mirror from ages ago, he finds you a perfect image of what could’ve been. you and him are pages of the same incoherent book, dancing between the same two sentences.

“for clarity’s sake,” he whispers, pulling away. “i say what i mean. i’ve lived long enough to know misunderstandings are beyond my control, and truth is something to be actively pursued to gain. but i cannot stand the screen between my words and your ears.”

his gaze is focused, unwavering. it’s the way he’s always looked at you.

“i know,” you respond, after a moment. “i know what you mean. and if it is your words that you want me to actively pursue—”

he clears his throat. “that- that is not what i said.”

“—then i will do so.”

you smile, and he can feel his lips twitch.

“well, i’m no genius...”

“neither am i,” he interjects softly. “but i’m persistent. i will keep trying, over and over. and if i’m not wrong, you’re the same.”

“you’re not wrong.”

have you always looked at him this way? he thought he’s seen all of your faces before. a new language blossoms in his mind. for once, literary devices are more than just devices.

“the poets are wrong,” you state, laughing bashfully, “it’s not so earth-shattering as i thought. maybe... maybe you were right on that part.”

a small smile forms on his face, and your breath hitches in your throat. “that’s ironic. i thought i finally understood them.”

“really? then do you know the answer to this ancient poem from the sands of hadravameth?” your eyes are curious as ever. “what is the difference between me and the sky?”

he recalls the lines from a long-buried poem, and they click in his head. the sands cannot swallow words as well as it swallows life.

“the difference, my love, is that when you laugh, i forget about the sky.”