#also i said this too myself instead of saying not my circus not my monkeys
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geeky-nightphilosopher · 24 days ago
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🩇Batfamily🩇
Alfred: *To Bruce* Not my spaceship, not my aliens, sir.
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stegrossaurus · 2 years ago
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Gramma Spoonbender
Gramma Spoonbender
by Silas
“Is this really me?”
The creature in front of me was a giant, ragged old woman in a torn back dress with a sapphire in the middle of her forehead and a large golden spoon in her right claw. The real old woman next to me was cracking up.
“It’s what you’d look like as a monster,” 10-year-old me said confidently. “Gramma Spoonbender! Look, her brain gem has a spiral in it just like your tattoo. And she has a gold spoon like your necklace. And look, a monkey like the one you used to have!” I pointed to the crudely drawn monkey head popping out of the hag’s hump. “He grows out of her back like a Surinam toad!”
Grandma clapped with delight and laughed at her monstrous doppelganger. The lake water bubbled a bit in time with her laughter. Water did that sometimes around Grandma.
“Well, I hope I’m a nice monster,” Grandma said.
“You are,” I assured her. “You only kill the mean ones.”
She laughed again and gave me a hug. “That’s a relief. Your Grandpa’d never let me live it down if I was a mean one.” She let the golden spoon necklace that Grandpa gave her orbit around her fingers and looked pensively at the monster’s spoon. “Gramma Spoonbender. Much better than Levitating Luna.”
Her stage name was the one part of her time in the circus that she didn’t remember fondly.The lake was her favorite part. It’s where she met Grandpa after she joined. It’s where he gave Grandma her necklace, her pet monkey, and her powers. I never told her that the lake creeped me out with its too-blue water and icy stillness. It reminded me of a glass-colored jellyfish with something rotting inside. It was better when Grandma bubbled it, so making her laugh when we went to visit it was always a good idea.
 “Seriously, Silas, you have a talent,” Grandma said. “Taking something strange and ugly and making people love and appreciate it is a gift. Your Grandpa had it and I can see so much of him in you. So you keep doing it, understand?”
I nodded proudly. Grandpa Morris died when Mom was a year old, so everything I know of him is second-hand. His parents immigrated from Italy and were very religious, so they wouldn't have approved of their son working as a sideshow purveyor. Mom never appreciated my monster drawings much, either, so knowing that I had this in common with Grandpa gave me a sense of kinship.
“I’ll be just like Grandpa when I grow up,” I said with the certainty of a 10 year old. “I’ll make a bunch of monsters and show them to everyone in a wagon just like Grandpa did.” 
I immediately started on some plans for a giant wagon. It needed to be large enough to hold all the taxidermied and pickled fake monster parts I was going to somehow create, so dragon steeds to carry it were a must. And all the while, Grandma laughed and bubbled the water with her mind.
When she died 8 years later, it hit my Mom and me very hard. Mom wasn’t extremely close to her for a variety of reasons, but that just makes it harder. Being the daughter of two circus performers must have been hard for her, and inheriting her father's looks instead of his powers can't have made it easier. I'd like to think Grandma understood when Mom had plastic surgery when she was 18, but I also think it drove a wedge between them.
They found her necklace in the hand of the robber, having been knocked out by a frying pan from the kitchen several feet away. It was too late to stop him from stabbing her, though, and so I lost the person who encouraged and appreciated me all my life. I thought Mom would want to keep it, but she insists I have it.
“I know how close you were to your Grandma, Sye,” she says softly. “I think you should have it.”
I stroke the golden spoon as Mom walks through the empty house. I try to pretend I don’t hear the crying but since I’m crying, too, it doesn’t quite work. 
Putting on the necklace makes me feel a little better and I tell Mom that I’d like to go for a walk. Thinking about Grandma as my feet move, I quickly find myself heading for the lake. I consider turning around, but I keep going. The lake meant a lot to her and I figure I owed it to her to be there for a bit.
I still don’t like the lake; even in my melancholy it just looks wrong. From my angle, its shape reminds me of a lion’s head and the shapes underneath with the reflections on top come together to make a terrifying face. Nevertheless, I sit on our favorite bench and try to feel some part of my grandmother in the place where she had her happiest moments. "I hope you and Grandpa are happy where you are," I say to the lake, hoping she can hear me. "I wish I could just
" Have you back? Hug you again? Show you how much you mean to me? I'm not sure, I just want to do something.
I squeeze the golden spoon necklace and remember her story of how Grandpa gave it to her. “We’d been dating and working together for a year when he took me to the lake to ask me a question,” Grandma had said. “He wanted my hand in marriage and he offered his powers as dowry. At first, I thought it was some kind of mutant tradition, but really, your grandfather never liked his powers. His parents had him thinking they came from a bad place. He thought they’d be safer with me. So he slipped that necklace around my neck and I felt a doorway open in my brain. And Levitating Luna (ugh, still hate that name) was born.” 
I hold the spoon and try to find that door in my own brain. I try to make the leaves float or the water bubble or something. But instead of any of that, I have an idea.
"Grandma, I know you kept my old drawings," I say, squeezing the necklace. "And I have a project coming up for my digital art class. I think I could recreate them. Maybe make a book or something."
It could just be the excitement, but I start to feel something strange. Something that makes me feel something warm and wet on the back of my ribs. It feels familiar and as it settles on my heart, my sadness starts to lift. When you grow up with a psychic grandmother, you learn not to ignore these feelings. But it can't really be
 
As if sensing my thoughts, the lake water starts to bubble. Was that me? Or

"Grandma?" The water bubbles more forcefully. It starts to froth a little. "It's you, isn't it? Don't worry, Grandma, you'll love it, I promise. And so will you, Grandpa."  
I run away from the bubbling lake happier than I’ve been in weeks. I go back to Grandma’s house, tell Mom about my idea, and ask if I can go through some of Grandma’s stuff. I think my excitement is contagious, but Mom perks up a bit at the sound of my project.
“Sye, that sounds like a great idea. I know Grandma loved your monster art.” Her tone darkens a bit, but only for a second. “I think she would have wanted you to do something with it. She kept a bunch of mementos and stuff in the closet. Maybe you’ll find them in there.” The water glass in her hand bubbles a bit and she smiles softly.
After a bit of searching in the closet, I find a large box of photo albums and circus mementos. Posters for the Astounding, Mind-Bending Levitating Luna are rolled up with flyers for Quasi-Morris's Wagon of Oddities. A young woman with a spiral tattoo on her forehead danced with a muscular man whose face looked like it was carved (badly) out of wood in the photos.
Eventually, I find a thick portfolio of my childhood drawings. Gramma Spoonbender's snaggletoothed face greets me as I open the cover.
"This is going to be so much fun."
I start with the Church Worms, ghostly aquatic worms that harmlessly and invisibly inhabit holy places. I design them and Photoshop their image into a photo of the local church.
Normally incapable of (and uninterested in) eating anything. But if a red-haired young person is buried or given funeral rites on their territory, they might attempt to inhabit and animate the corpse as a vampire.
I'd decided to make it a sort of field guide, with notes and theories and diagrams. I figure that'll be more fun than just pictures. I move on to the Vileoraptors, large ugly raptors with rare flowers and fungi growing in the cracks of their branch-like limbs.
I believe they have a connection to the local fae, given that they are found near fae territories in the woods. Fair folk have been known to use transmogrification as punishment and the iron collar that they seem desperate to remove could support my theory. Meat dipped in milk may dissuade one from attacking me so I can remove the collar while it is eating my companion.
I place a bug-headed creature with octopus suckers on its four insect arms and its strong kangaroo legs near a photo of the lake.
Blue Bloodhoney Bugs are strong but slow swimmers that prefer to hunt on land at night. Squeezing their prey creates a chemical change that transmutes blood and organs into a honey-like substance that the Bug eats. They have ignored any of my test subjects that I've doused with bug spray, sunscreen, make-up, or anything else that irritates their suckers.
I stretch out a lion image to painfully human proportions, give it glowing red eyes and a sharp smile, and have it scale up my dorm building to my window.
The Broken Lion can be summoned to our world through a simple ritual. Dig a shallow puddle as close to a lion’s face as possible and use 13 sharp rocks to fill in a smile. Allow it to fill with rainwater naturally and bleed into it while saying ‘Take what’s mine and come to find this world of fools and upright swine’. The Lion will come the following night and might attack any one person of the summoner’s choosing. It cannot be controlled, however, and may attack anyone it pleases before it decides to go back.
And, of course, a feral, simian hag with a savage baboon head growing out of her hump, a golden spoon in her hairy hand, and a sapphire in the middle of her forehead. Her entry is next to one for a large wagon with thick, scaly flesh interwoven with the wood and a set of legs instead of wheels.
In the 40s, a group at the local university purchased many monkeys and later orphans, using them as bait for monsters and test subjects for psychic experiments, eventually creating a psychic gestalt called Gramma Spoonbender. Clearly born out of the test subjects’ need for a nurturing figure, Gramma Spoonbender’s presence awakens psychic powers, allowing the subjects to survive the brutal experiments. She was reported to kill and eat other monsters, but never humans. Thus, the eventual deaths of the group must have been from the empowered children or her companion, Grandpa Sideshow.
It’s the most fun I’ve had with an assignment and I think it shows in the work. With every monster I bring back to life, my heart surges and any water in the room bubbles. Of all the powers I could have gotten, mediumship isn’t my favorite, but it’s growing on me. 
The rest of the class loves the field guide and I’m pretty sure an A is incoming. When one of my classmates asks me which is my favorite, I say Gramma Spoonbender and Grandpa Sideshow. When I return the question, she says, “The Broken Lion. I’ve always been a cat per–”
BLAAMM!
A sound like a gunshot echoed through the room and everyone jumped to their feet. Our eyes raced from the door to the windows before we realized it was the instructor’s water bottle. The bottom of the plastic had practically exploded, spraying water all over her desk. We all calm down after we realize we aren’t in danger, but my nerves are still tense. Like I said, I know not to ignore certain feelings and now I’m beginning to wonder if Grandma’s as happy with this project as I thought she was. 
By nighttime, I’d mostly forgotten about the incident. But not entirely. Nothing like that had happened after my digital art class, but then again no one had mentioned the book after that. Or the Broken Lion. I’d based it off of the lake, with its lion-mane shape and its otherworldly stillness. I never liked the lake much, and the way Grandma’s spirit acted, maybe she liked it less than I’d thought. 
I squeeze my necklace and wonder for the first time if Grandma’s spirit is really here or I was bubbling the water. I try to sense Grandma’s presence, bubble a glass of water, or levitate a chair with and without the necklace on. I focus all of my mental energy through the spoon until I hear something rattle outside my window.
Something big.
I scooch closer to the edge of the window, tense my legs to bolt to the door, and carefully edge the blinds away from the glass. After stealing glances at the lawn, sidewalk, and trees outside for about a minute, I can conclude that I may have overreacted. I open the blinds fully and tell myself that there's nothing out there.
"Besides, it hasn't rained in weeks," I say to myself. "No one could have summoned it."
I keep hearing something outside the window that sounds like claws lightly scraping something and hungry wheezing. I should turn away and leave the room. I should listen to the rattling sink and water pipes that are clearly warnings from my grandmother.
And I do.
I bolt out of my room and fly down the stairs, yelling and banging on doors, hoping for help. But I never stop to see if anyone answers, I just keep moving and trying to remember everything I wrote about the Broken Lion.
Incredibly fast and strong. Can darken its vicinity. Hypnotic eyes. Roar induces pain and paralysis. Immune to magic and most weapons.
Did I remember to give this thing a weakness? Wait, I think I did.
The Broken Lion can be forcibly set back to its world just as it arrives: through water. 
I'm already in the basement once I remember and I sprint to the laundry room. Grandma's ghost or my own power or whatever it is isn't enough to burst the pipes but it does set off the sprinklers. 
I crouch in a corner of the room' shivering and terrified, and try to remember the incantation to send it back.
You've had what's mine, now leave behind this world of fools and upright swine.
I mutter it over and over as I hear the thick footsteps and frenzied sniffing even over the sprinklers. I nearly vomit as the door creaks open, but I can tell the creature entering stands on two legs not four. Two thick, powerful legs attached to a stout fish tail and a bony, chitinous torso. The large human nose in the middle of its waxy face sniffs the room and its massive compound eyes scan everything.
For a second, I'm relieved before I realize that this is not a good thing. The Blue Bloodhoney Bug can be unsummoned and the only weakness I gave it is salt or sunscreen.
The Bug spots me quickly, but advances slowly, perhaps confused or intrigued by the sprinklers. But it still comes forward and I can't think of a thing to stop it. I press myself against the wall and start praying as the steps squelch closer.
"I made you, go away. I made you, go away. I made you, go away." I squeeze the spoon necklace and pray. Whatever power I inherited created this thing so it can get rid of it.
"I made you, go away."
sqwwch sqwwch
"I made you, go away."
Sqwwch Sqwwch 
"I made you, go away."
SQWWCH SQWWCH
"I made you, please go away."
SQWWCH SQW--CRRRNCH!
For a second, I feel like the Bug ripped my frontal lobe open. But that tingling sensation in my brain isn’t a breeze, it’s power. It feels like a door opened in my mind and what came through had enough force to smash the Blue Bloodhoney Bug on the far wall.
But that isn’t all. The water on the floor starts to bubble and steam. A few of the machines rattle or spin as the psychic energy leaking from my mind touches them. And then I see her; eating the Bug, loping across the floor, entering the room with her monkey head sniffing the air. It happens in reverse in my mind’s eye a few seconds before the real Gramma Spoonbender walks through the door.
As she edges closer to me, she points her spoon at the feebly moving Bug, dragging it over to us. A burst of psychic energy dismembers the creature as the baboon head leans down to eat. Her forehead gem, ocean-blue with a white spiral etched into it, glows as she says, “Your grandmother would like to talk to you.”
The doorway in my head surges before I can react to what she said, and I can feel myself leaving my body. The laundry room fades away and I find myself in a large empty space that smells like an abandoned bookstore. There are colors and shapes and sounds in the distance, but nothing I can make out clearly; it’s not for me to see or hear yet. I wonder what the old woman in front of me sees.
Grandma wraps me in a hug and tells me, “Oh, Silas. You shouldn’t have made that Lion.”
I pull back. “What? The Broken Lion? What does he have to do with this?”
“Your Grandpa could explain better, but he can’t be here yet. Too much paperwork.” she smiles wryly for a second. “You have so much of your Grandpa in you, Silas, and I’ll never see that as anything but a gift. But a beautiful gift can still be used in ugly ways. Read your grandfather’s letter, Silas. And be careful what you make from now on.”
Before I can ask anything, the land of the dead fades back into the laundry room. The Last of the Bug’s yellow blood flows down the drain with the sprinkler water. Gramma Spoonbender’s long gone, taking her borrowed psychic powers with her. But I can still feel something there in the back of my mind.
Fishing through my things, I find the letter from Grandma’s house. I’d forgotten about it and it had never occurred to me that it wasn’t from her. I open the envelope and have the closest thing to a conversation with my grandfather that I’d ever had.
Howdy, Grandkid! Precognition was never my strong suit, so I can’t see exactly who you are or how your life’s going. But I can see enough to know that you might need this explanation. Your Gram Gram always thought my powers were a gift, but really they’re a job. My parents worshiped a dark god, Moraghandr. If you haven’t heard of him, then good. It means he hasn’t escaped his world and gotten a grip on ours yet. I was born with psychic powers and this gorgeous mug to spread his influence and help him enter our world, but I don’t want that. No one will want that. But he’s getting harder and harder to ignore. Soon he’ll have his way. Today, I’m going to ask your Gram Gram to take my powers and my hand in marriage. She wasn’t a part of Moraghandr’s cult so they’ll be weaker with her and he won’t be able to use them. I can see that the baby girl growing inside her will reject his gifts, so he’ll try to find a way through you. He loves stories and art, the darker and uglier, the better. Be careful what you make. I wish I could say that I’ll be there to help you, but I don’t think he’s going to be happy that I gave away his powers. I don’t see myself in your future. Best of luck, Grandkid. Stay careful and stay smart. I love you.
I read the note a few times trying to figure out what it meant and why Grandma warned me about the Broken Lion. It wasn’t the most powerful monster in my book and I think Moraghandr can bring any of them to life, so why just mention the Lion? But now as I stand on the bank of Grandma’s lake, I think I have an idea.
The Broken Lion comes to our world from a dark and ugly one and can travel between them. But I never specified which dark and ugly world. One could easily make the argument that he comes from whatever world Moraghandr lives in. 
 It means he hasn’t escaped his world and gotten a grip on ours yet. 
Yet. 
I can feel that heart surge that I felt while creating my book and suddenly, it doesn’t feel welcoming. It feels like something thick and leathery stroking my heart from an angle I can’t reach. It feels triumphant. 
The water bubbles a bit as Grandma’s spirit reaches into our world, snapping me out of my dark thoughts. I need a plan. I don’t know if I can control this “gift” that Moraghandr gave me, but

“I think I should make another book,” I say. “One with a few more benevolent monsters. We’re going to need them.”
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lailannajacobs · 5 years ago
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A God’s Plan and A Mortal’s Free Will (Handmade Thieves pt. VII)
Pairing: Loki X Fem!Reader
Summary: Reader unwittingly finds her way onto Asgard and has to deal with all the attention that follows being a mortal in the extravagant realm. To his surprise, Loki finds himself having just as much trouble if not more than reader in dealing with it. 
Warnings: None! 
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: Hey everyone!! So this part’s a little different from the rest of the chapters, had to edit it a ton to get it to something I liked, so let me know what you think! I’d love to hear it, hope you enjoy!! Happy reading! <3
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Previously
You stopped him by grabbing his forearm and stared at him in disbelief, “You’re worried about people looking at me funny? Are you serious right now? What the hell is wrong with you Loki? Did you not just hear what your father said to me about you?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, not that it looked like he was going to judging by the slow blink he gave you in response. “Do you not care how he treats you? I don’t care that you’re probably plotting some way of getting him back, how could you just stand there and take it?”
He only watched your outburst with vacant eyes as if he wasn’t even listening. Out of breath and annoyed with him and his stupid, royal ass, you spun on your heel and stomped off, ready to be as far away from the throne room as was possible in your stupid prison.
Part Seven: 
Loki shivered at the sound of his name on her lips. He couldn’t know for sure how long he had been waiting to hear it, but the longer she called him “prince” or “wolf," the more curious he became. It had caught him by surprise, in the middle of her rant like that, sounding in some way different to the countless other times he had heard it on Asgard, but he couldn’t pin point why. Something about her being a Midgardian, he supposed.
She kept ranting on and on, hands clenched at her side the same way they were every time she was trying to tame her anger, but it was difficult to know what she was going off about since he had missed the beginning of what she was saying, too caught up in the sound of his own name.
He wanted her to say it again — only out of professional curiosity of course — but the word “prince” broke through his trance and he knew he wouldn’t hear it again for a long time now, if ever. Whatever had made her slip up in that moment was long gone. It was probably for the best. Loki didn’t appreciate feeling so out of focus, caught up in alien thoughts and feelings. If he wanted to keep her alive to help him get out of the mess he was planning, he was going to need to stay alert and three steps ahead of everyone else. He couldn’t do that if he was preoccupied with banal thoughts.
Loki knew she would hate the plan he had in mind but knew she would agree to it because she wanted her freedom more than anything else. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that her freedom was his most valuable bargaining chip. He figured, short of regicide, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t agree to — no matter how begrudgingly — if he guaranteed her freedom. And the freedom of one Midgardian was worth the price of what he had in mind.
If he had any doubts about her ability to play her part in his plan, they had vanished the moment she stood up for him in the throne room. Anyone that mortal who could stand up to Odin and essentially threaten him was either stupid or incredibly brave. And Loki would not have let her out of the dungeon if he had thought she was stupid. After all, she couldn’t have become one of the most infamous thieves by being dumb.
But it hadn’t been her bravery that had surprised him the most. It had been the fact that she had stood up for him, even if he was pretty sure she’d stab him if given the right opportunity. Loki hadn’t been too sure what to make of it, but quickly decided that the only reason acted the way she had was to get some form of revenge on Odin. He understood that all too well. What he didn’t understand was having someone other than his mother, and occasionally Thor, defend him. Which is why it hadn’t taken him long to come to the conclusion that he had just been a means to an end for her to get what she wanted — another thing he understood quite well.
When she turned around and stopped, clearly surprised he wasn’t two steps behind her, Loki realized he had been so lost in his own mind that he had stopped moving all together.
“I’ve found that ignoring him helps.” He offered vaguely, knowing he had to say something at least somewhat related to the rant she had started if he wanted to cover up the fact that he had let his guard down and hadn’t been listening.
In a few quick strides, he caught up and she spun around on her heel like she was grounding an insect into the marble floor. He wondered if she believed she was any good at hiding her anger. Despite how difficult he found it to read her thoughts and emotions most of the time, her anger radiated like a neon sign. And at the moment, it was a massive, colour-changing, flashy sign.
He felt himself smile. Her anger made things much more interesting. And much more fun.  After what he had just gotten away with, he was looking for a way to celebrate his small victory. Annoying her seemed as amusing as any way to do it. Though if Loki was being honest with himself, he would have realized he was also looking for a way to take his mind off of his father for a short while.
“Yeah well, ignoring him would be a lot easier if he stopped summoning me to the throne room like a circus monkey.” She snarled, her stomping echoing down the empty hallway.
“Maybe if you stopped threatening to undress in front of the guards and everyone else in the palace, it wouldn’t happen so often.” He growled back, unable to hold back the wave of anger washing over him.
She stopped, put a hand on her hip, head angled to the side, “It was one time. One time. And it wasn’t like I actually got undressed. And why should I have to explain myself to you anyways? I’m a grown woman capable of making her own damn decisions.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself Midgardian, but I am curious to know what the hell went through your mind.” His voice was low and gruff in the back of his throat, coming from somewhere deep within him.
“If you must know Wolf,” She took a step forward onto her toes so that she came as close to eye level as she could get, “I was a little desperate to get out of that cloth trap.”
“If you were that desperate for relief Midgardian, you should have come to me.” Loki clicked his tongue, punctuating his sentence with an arrogant smirk in an attempt to remind himself that he didn’t actually care what she had done.
She glared at him, taking the bait he had been hoping would rile her up even more, “Not that we’re talking about the same thing, but I tried that remember? You told me to leave you alone because it was too early in the morning.”
“I seem to recall asking you to come in. We could have gotten you out of that trap quite easily. Dresses are much easier to take off with a second person involved.”
She shook her head incredulously. Loki let his eyes wander down the length of the dress, that in no way suited her, and could tell he was doing an exceptional job at pissing her off by the way her breathing became slightly uneven. He couldn’t help but think that if she had come to him with the threat of getting undressed, she would have definitely been going in the wrong direction to scare him off.
Widening his grin, he solidified his veneer so that she couldn’t tell that his mind had gone down a path he knew was far too dangerous. But even so, he couldn’t help voicing some of those thoughts, only because he knew how much it would annoy her.
Dipping his head so that he was practically touching her ear with his lips, he purred, “I could have found something else for you to wear of course. I have many shirts that would fit you quite nicely.”
She bristled and backed down, jaw tight and fist clenched at her side, eyes blazing. It was hard to believe that getting a reaction out of her was this easy.
“You’re an insufferable prick.” She huffed.
“I’ve been called worse. And by you I believe.” Loki winked and righted the fallen strap from her shoulder, her skin warm beneath his fingers.
She swatted his hand away, but he could tell by how hard she hit him that she would have rather rammed one of her daggers clean through his hand instead. “I don’t doubt that. Now. Give me back my clothes.”
“They’re this way.” He motioned for her to follow and set a leisurely pace he knew would drive her crazy. He wasn’t the one stuck in an uncomfortable dress. He had nowhere to be.
She didn’t say anything else and he didn’t realize just how much he had been craving a moment to breathe after what had happened in the throne room. He tried to push it out of his mind and let it go, especially the part about the Midgardian threatening nudity, which, for some annoying reason, seemed to keep pestering him. Loki chalked it up to the fact that he had never been very good at letting things go. Whatever seemed to get to him had a bad habit of festering, and that wasn’t something he could afford to let happen now. Not with what he had planned. And not concerning something that shouldn’t have bothered him in the first place.
Loki knew he could have easily conjured her clothing, but she seemed to have forgotten that it was something he could do. It was strange to him to be looked at, for lack of a better word, like a normal human. He knew he’d be fooling himself if he thought she hadn’t heard the rumours about him, but she looked at him with such unrestrained frustration in her eyes that he was pretty sure she didn’t care who he was or what he had been rumoured to do as long as she got to break his nose before the day was done. It seemed to him that she was the kind of person who would stab anyone who pissed her off, regardless of who they were and what they had done. He respected that. And if he was being honest with himself, Loki might have even admitted that he found the thought comforting. When he looked into her eyes, he didn’t see a menace staring back at him, which surprised him even more after having donned the cruelest and most detached mask he had when they were in the throne room. He knew she had seen it. He had felt her stiffen beside him.
For a moment, Loki thought maybe her indifference was what had made him let her out of the dungeon, but he knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. He had done it because he needed a contingency plan, and she was the best way to piss Odin off simultaneously.
Realizing that, once again, he had slowed from being lost in thought, he took in the back of that frayed violet dress and smirked. He hadn’t thought by taking her clothes the night before that she would have resorted to taking her anger out on the dress itself. He found the thought quite amusing until the solution to her plan and who she had done her little act of rebellion with snaked its way back into his mind.
He could feel himself spiraling into a whirlpool of irritation and something else he couldn’t name until she spoke up, pulling him out before he could reach the deepest end of that spiral.
“Pardon?” He asked, the world ebbing away from the darkness and back into focus.
“I asked where your brother was.” He could tell her anger had diminished during their walk and was now replaced by curiosity, which he liked much, much less.
He slid a wary glance at her, “Which brother?”
She raised a brow, “Do you have more than one brother?”
“No.” He grunted, feeling himself getting sucked back down into that dangerous, dark pool, “I don’t have any at all.”
“The Almighty Thor. What does that make him?”
He inhaled sharply, trying to keep his anger in check. “Adopted brother.”
“Still makes him your brother,” she pointed out casually, not balking at the glare he couldn’t help but send her way. He should have known that Thor, being Thor, would find a way to become her center of curiosity, even millions of miles away.
“So where is he then?”
Loki couldn’t help the disgust in his voice when he sneered, “Probably off trying to save some poor hapless realm.”
“And why aren’t you doing the same?” She looked up at him as they walked, no judgement on her face that he could see, only genuine curiosity.
It wasn’t the look he had been expecting to see so instead of leering the words like he had intended, he practically sputtered, “Because I don’t feel the need to pretend to be a hero.”
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice and rolled her eyes, “Sure you don’t.”
He racked his brain for something to say to get her on the defensive. He didn’t know what to do when she looked at him in that unnerving, distracting way of hers, as if she actually wanted to know what was inside of him. Her questions had caught him off guard and had rattled him enough that he was a loss for words. It wasn’t something he was used to. Not at all.
Loki decided to keep silent and focused on steadying his breathing, trying not to think too hard about what she meant. The Midgardian had no idea what she was talking about and he needed to remember that. She didn’t know him or anything about him, no matter how often she looked at him as if she could see beneath his protective mask.
“That was sarcasm you know.” She informed when he didn’t speak up.
“I know what sarcasm is. I’m no stranger to it.” He said indignantly, cursing himself once again for sounding anything other than calm and slightly bored.
She raised a brow, “Then what’s with the weird look on your face?”
“Disbelief that you would believe that I, of all people, wouldn’t know what sarcasm is.” He recovered, picking up the pace so that she would have to work to keep up with his long strides.
“Okay
” She rolled out the word as if it wasn’t what she wanted to say but didn’t want to press the matter any further.
Loki almost sighed with relief.
“Where are we? And how far away are my clothes?” She looked around the plain hallway, busy with maids, cooks and other members of the palace staff.
“Still in the palace. And not far. Though I’m not taking you to them just yet,”
Skidding to a stop, she went to reach for something in her boot but paused with a clenched fist halfway through the motion, glaring at him instead from her half-bent position. If he had to guess, he would have said that she just remembered that she no longer had any of her weapons and wasn’t too pleased about it. That neon sign was getting brighter by the second.
He grinned.
Taking those daggers away was probably the smartest thing he could have done for his personal safety. Not that she posed much of a threat but was still a threat all the same. Despite how tempting it had been to set her lose on all the incompetent socialites for pure entertainment alone, he knew doing so would have interfered with his plans. Even if it would have made his days more interesting to watch her pull a knife on everyone who insulted her.
“Where are you taking me exactly?” She demanded, then recoiled as she asked, “Not another party?”
He gestured to her gown. “Looking like that? Absolutely not.”
She glowered, seeming more than a little fed up about the comments regarding her looks. It made him want to smile.
“If not a party then where Wolf?” Her words came out more like an exasperated sigh than a question.
“You’ll see.” He danced around the answer knowing the longer he did so, the more riled up she would become.
“Do you need really need to be so cryptic?”
“Yes.”
She stopped and gripped his arm, nails digging into the sleeve of his tunic. He paused, focused only on the pressure of her fingers on his arm until her words shook him from his trance. “Remind me to stab you when I get my knives back. Please Wolf. Please remind me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind Midgardian, not that I think you need reminding.” He chuckled, pleased with himself that he had managed to get that look on her face using only a few words and a knowing grin. “But speaking of your knives, we never did set the terms for our little agreement.”
A wary look crossed her face, “What did you have in mind.”
“Nothing horrifying.” He replied disinterestedly, though he had really said it to wipe that look off her face. It was a look that was too close to fear, and though he had never seen her afraid when she looked at him — even the first time she had realized who he was — he didn’t want to see anything even remotely similar there. Fear turned to resentment, and he told himself that the reason he couldn’t have her truly hate him was because he still needed her to properly execute his plan. It was the only reason, he convinced himself. The only reason.
“I wasn’t worried,” she ground out and sized him up in a way that shouldn’t have made him want to let out a breath of relief, “But with that look on your face you can understand why I would be
concerned.”
He cocked his head, “What look?”
“Like a kid that just put a thumb tack on their professor’s chair.” She said, gesturing vaguely at his face. “The wide, Cheshire Cat grin that seems to make the corners of your eyes crinkle and the way those eyes light up like someone set fire to the Emerald City? You know, that look? The trickster look.”
Loki took a moment to mull over her words and decided to focus on the first part of what she said; the part he actually understood, “I can’t say I’ve ever done such a thing.”
She didn’t look like she believed him. “I’m sure that’s only because you’ve done so much worse.”
He chuckled, thinking back to particularly clever trick he had done when he was eight involving Thor and a snake. “It was all in good fun Midgardian.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“It was to me.”
She scoffed.
He grinned.
She squinted at him for a second longer as if wanting to decide that he really wasn’t up to no good then rolled her eyes to the sky in defeat before stalking off, “So, you were saying, terms?”
“Ah, yes. Terms. I believe yours favoured you far too much.”
“And yours won’t do the same for you?” He could hear her steps getting heavier and heavier, pounding into the ground as if it was the one driving her irritation.
He practically flounced beside her, “I can assure you, mine will be fair.”
“You know Wolf, it’s funny, but I don’t trust a word you say.”
Loki forced to keep the smile on his face and further leaned back into the arrogant swagger he had already been laying on thick. He didn’t quite understand why her words bothered him when he knew that he wasn’t trustworthy to begin with. He had come to terms with the fact that that was who he was. That she agreed to the fact shouldn’t have bothered him.
“Normally, you’d be right no to Midgardian, but there is no reason for this little game of ours not to be fair. Reminding you that I can win even when fighting fair will be so much more satisfying.”
Her lips were drawn in a tight angry line but still she looked at him as if she was trying to look past the facade and into his soul. Her body was motionless, like a hunter watching her prey, waiting for the moment he would slip up. The longer her scrutinizing gaze tried to dissect him, the more unnerved he felt. But he didn’t look away. Loki was never one to look away first. He fought the urge to shift his weight and did his best to appear as calm as possible.
Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he somehow managed to lift a brow and drawl, “What? No witty retort Midgardian?”
With one last, long look at him she shook her head and kept walking. “Tell me the terms Wolf.”
He let out a small, barely audible sigh to relieve some of the pressure building inside his chest and reminded himself that he could have easily kept walking despite the fact that she had stopped. He had no idea why he felt the need to stop every time she did.
Loki decided the terms to their agreement really would be fair. He didn’t know why he had initially said they would be, it wasn’t like him, but he couldn’t back down now. Maybe he had always wanted a fair fight and realized that he had always been looking in the wrong place to find it. Maybe, for the first time he didn’t want to use his own tricks and follow his own rules because he didn’t want to be unfair to his opponent. No, he thought, it had to be the former.
“I will give you one of your daggers back whenever you correctly guess one of my illusions.” He began to explain, “As long as you don’t use them on me afterwards of course.”
“Can’t promise you anything Wolf.” She grinned, seemingly genuinely amused by the thought of his pain.”
He couldn’t help but get drawn in by her brutal honesty and the smile that lit up her face and found himself doing the same. And when she said, “But you still haven’t told me the catch to your terms yet prince” he couldn’t help but think that maybe she wouldn’t make it as easy as he first thought it would be.
“You’ll have thirty seconds to guess that I’m not truly standing before you if you want one of your daggers. And,” He emphasized the word with a raised finger before she could protest, “Every time you guess wrong, you have to make up for it with another right answer. Only then can you get your precious dagger back. Call it a precaution against you guessing that I’m an illusion every time you see me. Understand, it simply wouldn’t be any fun if you did.”
She let out a sharp breath and crossed her arms, “And you think that’s fair.”
“My life is in danger if you get one back,” He shrugged, though his words weren’t quite true.
She shot him an unimpressed look. “You seem terrified.”
“I’m trembling right now, can’t you tell?” His mocking words broke the scowl on her face, and he noticed the corners of her lips begrudgingly turn up.
“Are you now?”
He nodded, “I am. I can’t barely stand I’m so terrified of the infamous Midgardian and her deadly skills with a blade.”
“Sure, you are,” she laughed, starting to play along, “Is that a slight tremor I hear in your voice?”
He was about to answer but stopped, struck by the look she had on her face. It was one he had rarely seen and didn’t recognize it until it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“What?” Her brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”
It took him a moment to realize he’d been staring at her smile. He had only seen the one time when she had torn off the bottom half of her dress and hadn’t realized he had been watching.
He extended his hand, hoping to blow past his small lapse in judgement by getting back to the matter at hand.
“I’m only giving you the time to consider the terms, that’s all. What do you say Midgardian?”
She looked down at his hand with pursed lips and reluctance in her eyes. He couldn’t help but think that she looked at it the same way he had looked at the vegetables on his plate as a child, knowing they were a terrible means to a delicious dessert. Recognizing that look, he no longer doubted that she wouldn’t agree to play along with him. Because if that was, in fact, the same look
well Loki had always gotten dessert.
She sighed, “I don’t have any other options, do I?”
“No.”
“And I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “Most likely.”
She sighed. “Well, I guess that settles it then.”
Her hand stayed at her side and she kept staring at his as if it was the only way to persuade her own hand to move.
He raised a brow, not that she could see it she was so focused on his hand and the two-foot gap between their bodies. “Any day now Midgaridan.”
Her eyes lifted to look up at him through her lashes, eyes sparked with irritation. She clenched and unclenched her jaw, then forced her hand to meet his, moving quickly as if afraid she would change her mind.
“Fine. We have a deal, Wolf.” She squeezed his hand a little harder than necessary, “If I guess right within thirty seconds, without having guessed wrong before, you give me back a dagger.”
“Agreed.”
“Okay then.”
She was about to let go but he held on, easily keeping her hand captive in his large one, “Just so you know, I would have agreed to a minute instead to thirty seconds.”
Her nostrils flared, and probably for the millionth time since he met her, she looked like she was about to hit him. It was probably the reason why he shot her the kind of grin he assumed was the reason she kept calling him Wolf.
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princess-of-the-corner · 5 years ago
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Okay, just a little more on the Lady Luck Au because when I first made the post I stopped at the most recent episode and a number of episodes have come out since so I’m gonna discuss them a little! Not in-depth for the most part because I don’t want to go back and watch right now since it’s 12:41 while writing so let’s go!. 
Gamer 2.0
So Mari’s still too stressed to play video games, but while she’s a Hero, she’s not the one saving the day. 
ChloĂ© herself was actually part off the project since she’s taken over as the Miraculous Merch Department. She’s in charge of things like Copyright and all that, so Max literally had to come to her about the game if he wanted to get it off the ground. 
However Max doesn’t think about getting her to play test the game despite everything that happened the first time he got Akumatized. (Well, it might be he’s a lil salty about it but he’ll get over it.)
Lady Luck playing the game is having a fucking blast though. 
By the end, Chloé offers to be more involved in the project by testing the game and giving feedback on how the various Akuma had been in their fights. 
Party Crasher
Adrien is a lot more on board with the Teen Rebellionℱ and throwing a party while Gabriel’s away. However, he knows that ChloĂ© would absolutely murder him if he did this without her because she’s been suggesting it for months. 
So he calls her and she’s actually the one who remembers the tree planting thing. 
She has him put her on speakerphone so she can interrogate the boys
She calls Nino ‘clown boy’ again. He asks if she’s ever going to let him live down Bubbler, and she says ‘considering you’re not only a clown but the entire goddamn circus, no.’. 
The whole lying plot gets resolved immediately because she says ‘either call the girls and apologize for this, or I’ll do it myself!’. 
Adrien had legit forgot so he’s off the hook 
Everyone else is sweating bullets because they know the girls will kill them. 
They do concede though, and plan to do the tree stuff and then party into the night. 
After the apology and spending the day planting trees, Chloé takes over organizing the party, keeping it a little more in control than it got before. 
People who deliver stuff are sent on their way with payment instead of sticking around. 
The guest list is kept a bit smaller, mostly just the classmates, though they do make exceptions for people like Jagged Stone
She has Sabrina deal with Roger though because ChloĂ© knows that if she tries they’ll all end up getting arrested. 
Wayhem is still kinda forgotten about and becomes Party Crasher. 
We have different Heroes show up to fight him! And remember: in this AU the Miraculous aren’t being gathered back up afterward. 
Obvs we have Lady Luck and Chat Noir, but also Fennette, Abielle, Turtledove, Queen Cobra, and Unicorn. 
Ivan is given the Monkey Miraculous instead of Kim. Not sure what to name him though. 
The rest of the episode goes mostly as planned. 
Puppeteer 2
Instead of Alya and Nino, Adrien and Marinette bring Chloé and Sabrina. And also maybe Alix because my ships. 
The reason being that the whole Lila plot is making the Mari/Alya friendship difficult, so they’re not hanging out as much. 
Adrien and Marinette are already dating by this point, so there’s no misunderstandings. However, the statue scene does still kinda happen. 
Adrien decides to prank her by pretending to be a statue. 
Mari jokes around being over-dramatic. 
He knows she’s being over-dramatic, but decides to suddenly move and scare her. 
It works a little too well and she just straight judo flips him. 
The embarrassment happens because Adrien is lying on the ground, winded from his gf just causally flipping him, and he’s staring up at her all beautiful and determined and low-key backlit by the ceiling lights and looking all ethereal. 
And he’s just like ‘holy fuck marry me!’. 
Chloé hears about that and does not let him live it down ever.
Fighting the statues is a little easier because even though there’s more fake heroes, the team knows one another well enough and can find fakes. Especially since Manon is more of a ‘LuckyChat’ fan than a ‘Fennoir’ fan(blame her mother). 
Confronting Puppeteer is a bit different because Chloé has a different approach with small child Akumas. 
She tends to agree with them and negotiate more.Because kids tend to see things much more black and white, even when Akumatized. It makes it easier to talk them down when saying ‘I understand and we can fix this, just let me save the day I promise’. 
There’s probs more cute Adrienette moments afterward. 
Ikari Gozen
The Marinette/Kagami rivalry is a bit more non-existent in this AU. Kagami was told early on that Mari legit cares about Adrien, and the Adrienette ship has already set sail. 
This is when they become friends though. 
For the most part the episode is the same. 
However, Kagami doesn’t get the Dragon Miraculous because most Miarculous are shuffled. I’m not sure what to give her right now. Originally I was going to give her the Horse, but then Startrain happened so that’s out. Right now I’m thinking the Tiger?Or maybe the Mouse(I know I said I’d give Luka the mouse because I’m a weeb but maybe?). 
Kagami also doesn’t reveal her identity, so she gets to keep her Miraculous. 
She also gets a hell of a lot more friends because she now has the rest of the Hero Team. 
Reflekdoll
This happens mostly the same in that there’s modeling and Kwamiswap. Though the ‘I have the harder job’ plot doesn’t come up at all really because everyone kinda has a better balance between ‘this is serious we have to fight’ and ‘we’re allowed to make fun quips and comments as long as we don’t screw up’. 
I’m debating on how to do the Kwamiswap though
It’s just the Ladybug and Black Cat that switch, leading to Lord Luck and Duchess Noir. 
We keep the Mari and Adrien switch so we get Lady Noire and uh... Mr. Fox? He’d probably get a better name tbh. 
Somehow our Main Five end up switching, and we get some meta jokes with Marinette getting the Ladybug Miraculous, Chloé getting the Bee, and Sabrina getting the Black Cat. (Adrien gets the Turtle and Mylene would have the Fox btw.). 
Desperada
Kagami’s issue is less ‘jealousy’ and more ‘idk how to make friends’. 
When Jagged asks for a guitarist, Marinette isn’t a dumbass and suggests Luka in the first place. 
The fight is a lot shorter because we don’t have Aspik and the 25,913 tries, thanks to the lack of identity shenanigans. Instead, ChloĂ© gives the Snake to Juleka, who becomes Queen Cobra. 
slight side note because it pertains to the Lila plot: When Lila’s lies split the class down the middle, Juleka was originally more on Lila’s side. When ChloĂ© reveals herself to be Lady Luck by handing her the Snake, Juleka switches sides. She wonders how to convince Rose, but she only has to wait until Startrain when Rose becomes Unicorn.
Okay, all the other episodes have their own posts so I’m done. Goodnight fuckers. 
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flameontheotherside · 6 years ago
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Welp, My Mom Is Gone...
She’s left to another program for those pending government assistance aka disability. I’m technically not qualified to go there because I don’t have chronic homelessness.....and I refuse to be. The head-caseworker here says she’s still advocating for me though so I’m hoping that soon I’ll be following my mom to the same program. She’s been here for a solid 3 months and I’m only starting on my 3rd just a few days ago. This is a 90 day program. Usually I would go to another shelter or sent off back to the street. I really hope it doesn’t come to that. Since I’m pending disability, I’ve been told I’d go to a shelter where I’d have just ONE roommate. Where my mom is.
I’m feeling extremely anxious and very depressed about my mom leaving today. We had a meeting with the head psych person here about what I’m going to do following my mom’s move. I’m trying my best to stay to myself now. No drinking, no smoking, no bullshitting anymore. I’m also tired of hearing the same corny bullshit so I’m not going to talk very much about how I feel anymore.
My phone is gone
...At least for now anyway. Eventually someone will give it up. Apparently a SHE as I was able to talk to her spirit-self or higher-self about returning the phone. It’s weird. I’ve secured it to need a code for replacing the simcard, turning it on, and there is no battery backing on it so GPS signal is always on. If she tries to turn it on it has an alarm and an alert is sent to me when it happens with the location of the device. Eventually s/he will give up trying to keep it and return it to the front desk. Karma is real and I had this discussion with God. He reminded me when I took a phone that was NOT MINE, just a few short years later, MY PHONE was taken the same way! I couldn’t get mad about it. Instead of bitching over my karma being served, I laughed it off and just bought a new one.
Eventually it will be back in my hands. Jack told me of someone who had the same happen to him and it was returned just a few days later. He also like me, secured it up the ass. There has been a surge of phones going missing and since then I’ve been offering my services to secure others for free. 
Whether he sees it or not...
Jason is going to be leaving too. So I figured it also best I just stick to myself. I don’t want other peoples bad juju sticking on to me because that’s what I feel happening. Just about everyone here is so depressing, rude, ignorant, annoying, or just over all bad. The good thing is that one of the circus monkeys here is leaving with my mom today too. That’s just two more of them left. I over heard one is looking for a house now. They hate me because I called them out on their bullshit. They are selfish, ignorant and hypocritical. One actually thinks she “runs the dorm”....EXCUSE ME. Uh, not bitch nigga. You don’t run me. She even said it. The other one accused me and my mom of being lazy just after the funeral, we rested and this “women” started talking shit as she was just coming from work.The last one just suddenly stopped talking to me and acknowledging me after she saw me put my things in Jason's car for the gym.She somewhat perked up when I called him my friend when she said Jason was looking for me. She always let’s met know when he’s looking for me! Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? Hood rats. Just hood rats.
This is still a culture shock and an annoying one at that. No offence but these are not the kind of people I would normally hang around. The men are extremely rude in that they go out of their way to talk to me. Objectifying by the way. So I’m looked at like a piece of meat. That’s nice...At least I have a few real compliments but whatever. It’s like these men think they are going to get something from me and even when I literally tell them to “fuck off” they come right back. I have no issues cursing them out and I have. They act completely brain-dead.
Despite not going to the gym anymore I’ve thinned out again.
I’ve adopted a very limited meat consumption diet in that I mostly eat fruits, vegetables, nuts and grains. Guess it’s a cave-man diet. LOL! It’s sort of working for me. The food here is a hit or miss and most of the time it’s unhealthy and I have to trick myself in to believing they CLEAN the salads before serving them. I go for my walks to and from the store every morning and sometimes every evening to get breakfast/dinner or both at one time. Since I’m not going to the gym anymore I might try to go for dinner too.
Have a great day!
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(ïŸ‰â—•ăƒźâ—•)*:ăƒ»ïŸŸâœ§Don’t forget to take a look at Erik’s blog ran by his amazing mom Dr Elisa Medhus. Lots of stuff about his afterlife and đŸ’© at channelingerik.com.
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got7-texts · 7 years ago
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Circus - Yugyeom (98/100)
You can find my post explaining the 100 Day Drabble Challenge here
To view the masterlist of drabbles for the challenge, click here
Prompt: Circus Member: Yugyeom x Reader AU: Circus!AU
Word Count: 1,997,
You hummed lightly as you hung up your clothes on the clothesline, taking care to straighten out your costume so as to not have any wrinkles in it the next day. You were so engrossed in the activity that you barely heard someone come up behind you.
“Y/N, there you are.” You turned around and gave a small smile to your boss.
“Hey Jaebum. Did you need something?” you asked the ringleader, glancing back at him before turning back to your clothes and continuing to hang them.
“Just wanted to give you this,” he said, handing you an envelope which you immediately recognized as your weekly pay. You gave him another smile and nodded.
“Thanks, boss,” you said, jovially. Jaebum tipped his hat to you and then began to walk away but stopped and then turned back to say, “Oh, and if you want some more target practice, the newbie is officially part of the crew so knock yourself out.”
You let out a small chuckled and hushed him, smiling widely. Once you finished with your chores, you walked back over to the main tent to see how everyone else was using their day off. Entering the common area, you saw Jinyoung and Jackson sitting next to each other eating a late lunch.
“Hey guys,” you said, walking over and leaning down to give them both side hugs.
“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?” Jinyoung asked. You leaned against the table and shrugged. Jinyoung was Jaebum’s right hand man and although he didn’t have a specific act in the circus, he was the genius behind the scenes.
“You know
it goes,” you said, stealing a bit of bread from Jackson’s plate as he smacked your hand playfully.
“Go play with your knives, we’re busy,” Jackson said, sticking his tongue out at you. You raised your eyebrows and looked at Jinyoung with curiousity.
“Oh? Something new? Jackson, are you changing the strongman act?” you asked, taking a seat next to Jinyoung. Jinyoung shook his head.
“No, we have a few newbies. We’re thinking about adding a new act completely,” Jinyoung explained. You hummed in agreement and glanced around.
“So where are they?” you asked. “I wanna meet them,” you stated, excitedly. Jackson chuckled at nodded towards the exit.
“I think Jaebum has them cleaning out the animal cages,” he snickered. You bit back a smile and then stood up.
“Alright, let me go help them,” you said, snagging one more piece of bread. “God knows they won’t have any sympathy from either of you,” you added as Jackson laughed and shook his head while Jinyoung simply smiled lightly and shrugged.
You exited the common area and walked across the fairgrounds, nodding at the groundskeepers, your fellow circus folk, and the other people that scattered the circus area. You had been with the circus for just about five years and you were always seeing people come and go.
You had been a young pick-pocketer on the street and it was actually Jackson that caught you and brought you to the circus. At first you had refused, but after a while, you realized that the circus was like a small tight-knit community. Everyone was different, but everyone loved and respected each other.
At first you were stuck on cleaning duty, making sure the grounds were spotless, cleaning the dishes, washing the clothes, and other mundane activities. But you wanted to play a bigger role in the circus, and so you began to shadow many of the acts.
The lion taming was a bit too much for you. Trapezing was also way far out of your league and there was no way that you would be able to showcase any other personal talent.
It wasn’t until you met the old knife thrower that you found something you enjoyed doing and could potentially be good at. Her name was Dolores and she was just about the most strict, rude, and potentially life-threatening person you had ever met. But she was also one of the best knife throwers around.
After a few years of watching her and practicing, you had honed your skills to the point where you too, were a fairly accurate knife thrower. Of course, you were nowhere near as good as Dolores, but that type of skill would only be gained with age.
And so, seeing your skills and wanting to retire to a beach house far away, Dolores took her leave, naming you the knife thrower to be in charge of the act.
Now, as you walked over to the animal cages, you reminisced about the times when you were still new to the circus. You pulled away the door and walked inside, looking around at the monkeys and horses.
“Yugyeom, get up and help me! Look, even BamBam is helping!” you heard a voice call out. You walked over toward the voices and saw three boys about your age. One was sweeping the floor while another was pouring more hay into the horse’s stables. The third boy was leaning against the wall, watching the other two with a small innocent smile on his face.
“Sorry Youngjae, cleaning is your job,” the boy who you now knew as Yugyeom said laughed, teasing the boy that was pouring the hay who was supposedly Youngjae
“You suck,” the last boy, who you assumed was BamBam, said with bitterness. You walked up and the three of them turned their attention to you.
“Hey there,” you said, sticking out your hand to Youngjae who was the closest to you. “I’m Y/n,” you added, leaning up against the tiger cage casually.
“I’m Youngjae,” the boy said, shaking your hand. “That’s BamBam and that’s Yugyeom,” he added, pointing to the other two. BamBam nodded and you and Yugyeom gave a small wave.
“Are you new too?” BamBam asked, forgetting his work to speak with you instead. You laughed lightly as the tiger, Sheila, sauntered over to you.
“Not really,” you said, sticking your hand into the cage and letting her sniff it. You glanced at the boys and bit back a laugh as you looked at their horror ridden faces. Sheila, however, simply licked your hand and nuzzled up against the side of the cage.
“Okay, that’s terrifying,” Youngjae said, taking a step back and going back to shoveling hay into the horse’s cage. You let out a small laugh and shook your head.
“She’s harmless, don’t worry,” you said, petting her head and pulling your hand away to walk over to the other two. “So are you guys off the street? Or from another circus?” you asked, curiously.
“Youngjae and I got picked up by Jaebum,” BamBam said. “Yugyeom
not so much,” he added, pointing to the other boy.
You turned your attention to Yugyeom and realized that he was much taller than you had originally thought. He had dark hair that fell into his dark eyes and high cheekbones – all of which made him seem more mysterious.
“He’s exaggerating,” Yugyeom said with a small smile. “But yea, I came from another circus. I was working in a different city but the circus got disbanded. Apparently, our boss knew yours so I got recruited,” he explained. His voice was a bit higher than you had expected but it was pleasing to hear – almost like bells.
“Really? What was your act?” you asked, inquisitively. Yugyeom gave a nervous smile and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I was just a fire-breather,” he said. BamBam scoffed as he brushed away the hay from the ground and rolled his eyes.
“Yea
just a fire breather. No big deal,” BamBam said sarcastically. “Meanwhile, we’re over hear doing the grunt work,” he added, sadly.
“Don’t worry, everyone starts with the grunt work. You’ll move up
eventually
” you said, giving him a small encouraging smile.
“What about you? What do you do here?” Yugyeom asked, crossing his arms.
“Knife thrower,” you said with a nod of your head. “So if you guys get tired of working with the animals, I may need someone to target practice at,” you mentioned.
“At?” Youngjae exclaimed, his eyes going a bit wide. You immediately shook your hands in denial.
“No, no! I meant
with!” you hurriedly said, trying to alleviate his fears. Unfortunately, he was right. “Anyways, I just wanted to introduce myself. I should get back to the main tent, but I’ll see you guys later okay?” you said, motioning to Youngjae and BamBam. “See you at practice,” you added to Yugyeom before taking your leave.
“So, this is the fire bender?” Jackson asked, sitting next to you on the bench as you watched Yugyeom practice in front of you.
“You mean fire breather?” you asked, chuckling slightly.
The big top was loud, preparing for the next big show. You had gotten up early to practice your knife throwing and now you were taking a break and watching the others. The bearded lady seemed to be working on her performance while the ventriloquist was working on his. The contortionist was off to the side while the trapeze artists where flying through the air, trying out new tricks while occasionally falling onto the nets below.
Yugyeom was off to the side, twirling two sticks in his hands and doing an intricate dance, but he had not yet lit his sticks. You watched him closely. You had never had a fire dancer or eater or breather at your circus and you were very interested in what Yugyeom had in store. He was quite young but, as you knew, age didn’t really matter when it came to skill.
“You’re drooling a little,” Jackson said, touching the side of your mouth that was slightly open but you immediately flinched and swatted his hands away. Jackson chuckled and you rolled your eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be over there lifting something?” you asked, jokingly. Jackson laughed again and then nodded.
“Yea, you’re probably right,” he said hastily as he nodded over to the entrance and then scuttled away. You followed his gaze to see Jaebum walking into the tent and you quickly scampered back to the target area as well.
Every now and then, you would look back at Yugyeom in anticipation for him lighting his sticks, but he never did. Eventually, he took a break and sat down on the ground, drinking water. You took your opportunity and set down your knives, walking over to him.
“Hey there,” you said, standing in front of him and waving lightly.
“Oh, hey Y/N,” he said, happily, patting the ground next to him. You took his invitation and sat down, drinking deeply from your water bottle. “It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?” he said, looking around at all the acts. “I can’t believe you guys have a tiger. And a lion!” he exclaimed. You looked over to Mark who was petting Sheila and kissing her head and you chuckled.
“Yea, we’re kind of the best circus ever,” you said, genuinely. Yugyeom nodded. “But to be honest, I’m excited to see your fire dancing. I’ve never seen anyone work with fire before,” you said, motioning to his sticks.
“It’s not really that exciting, just really
hot,” he said, casually.
“Really?” you asked. You raised an eyebrow at him and when he looked at you he immediately turned pink and shook his head.
“Wait, no, not like that. I mean it’s actually>/i> hot. Like sometimes I’ll accidentally burn myself or something,” he quickly said, mumbling lightly. You gave a light laugh and nudged him gently with your shoulder.
“Well, either way, I’m excited to see it,” you said. “Any way I could get a sneak peek?” you asked, smirking lightly. Yugyeom locked eyes with you once more and then slowly nodded.
“Yea
I think so,” he stuttered, slightly surprised. You stood up and brushed yourself off and grinned down at him.
“Great! Meet me here tonight at midnight. I want to see what you can do,” you said, smirking once more and then walking back to the practice range feeling victorious.
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americannoona · 8 years ago
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Dressing Zico:: Chapter Twenty-Three:: I’m gonna do it until it strains my Heart... (18+)
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My mornings always began the same way now. I had breakfast with one of my very favorite people in the world. Kim Marco. My big strong teddy bear was hanging in there. Everyone had given up on him. Everyone but me. I knew him too well to think he would leave this world without a fight. Zico had made sure that he was kept in the best private room in the best hospital in South Korea with the best care possible. He liked to act like a cold hard-ass to the world but Zico’s heart was as tender as Marco’s when he thought no one was looking. I knew he blamed himself for Marco getting hurt. He blamed himself for everything whether it was his fault or not. He paid for two private nurses to stay with Marco at all times but when I came in the mornings, I gave the morning nurse a short break. I liked to be alone with him. We talked, well I talked, as I ate and then I rubbed salve into his wounds. He had lost so much weight that he didn’t look quite like himself. I thought that if Vita were still here, she could fatten him up in no time flat. Thinking of Vita made me tear up. I began to wonder if I was a jinx. So many people had been hurt or even killed since I came to Korea. Even though Vita’s death had nothing to do with me, I thought that Kim Marco’s stabbing did. 
I bought a new gold earring for him. It was a teddy bear. He never would have worn it if he had been awake but right now he had no choice. I laughed a little to myself as I put it in his ear and thought of this big beast of a man being at my mercy. “I love you, Kim Marco,” I told him and kissed his cheek. “I need you so you need to wake up and help me with my plans.” I sat and talked to Marco and told him all about what had been going on. I told him about Ji-Yong. I told him about being in the hospital and how his brother had stepped into his place while he was away. I let him know how wonderful Kim Hwan had been. Absently, I started to draw doodles on the notepad beside his bed. As I talked, I began to make a little list. “Marco,” I paused and waited to see if he would say “Polo” but he didn’t. “I have decided to take my life back. It really isn’t like me to back down so easily and I’ve been acting like a helpless victim in this whole thing. The first thing I’m going to do is get my job back. I still have a contract with Zico so technically, the job is still mine.” Absently, I tore the doodle sheet off and wrote a 1 at the top of the clean sheet. Then I wrote MY JOB beside it. “The second thing I’m going to do is get my room back in Zico’s hotel. Even if he is staying with Horse-face! At least I’ll have my foot back in the door. Physical proximity is key.” I wrote a 2 under the first one and beside it I wrote MY ROOM. “I know I can’t make Zico love me or want me but I don’t think I have to. All of his actions lately have said that he still wants me. He stayed with me in the hospital. He even fought Ji-Yong for me. Oh yeah
 remind me to tell you about that some time.” I laughed to myself and shook my head. “I don’t think it would take much to get him back though. He and Alicia seem to fight all the time. I could be wrong but I don’t think I am. I believe Alicia confused him and even he is realizing that he made a mistake. I hope,” I said wistfully as I wrote a 3 under the 2 and wrote out MY ZICO beside it. “The last thing I have to do, Marco, is to get rid of Alicia Wright for good.” I laughed again because it sounded like I was planning a homicide. “She needs to go back to the US and stay far away from us. I have no idea how I’m going to do that but I’ll think of something. That’s why you need to wake up so that you can help me. You always have the best ideas.” I wrote a big 4 and then GOODBYE ALICIA WRIGHT! Tearing out the page and folding it in half, I put it in my pocket and bent down to kiss Marco. “Tomorrow we should have biscuits and gravy. Don’t you agree?” ​​​ One thing I didn’t discuss with Marco was maybe the biggest problem I had. Ji-Yong. I really liked him. REALLY liked him. I didn’t know what to do about him so I decided to think about it later. Now I was going to go to see him and enjoy being in his presence. He exuded happiness and energy and it was contagious. Two things I could use a lot of right now. Big Bang was taping a variety show and Ji-Yong invited me to come and watch. I was excited to see him and to see the rest of the group again. It was a taping of the show Weekly Idol and Ji-Yong really didn’t want to go. He hated the silly things they made them do on these kinds of shows but it was all a part of being an idol. Being a circus monkey was part of the business. But instead of dancing for peanuts, people were throwing money. Lots of it. I really wished I was the designer for Big Bang. I would completely rethink their wardrobe. A makeover for that group was way overdue in my opinion. I figured with them being so close to military age, the company didn’t think it was worth the effort to repackage them. Sad. I had so many ideas! When I got to the studio, Ji-Yong had left instructions with the attendant that I be taken to the front and given a drink that he had purchased himself and that was still sealed. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a lemon drink. I hated lemon so I laughed, popped it open, and stuck my straw in. There was no way I wasn’t going to drink it. After I took a sip, I told myself it really wasn’t that bad. Yes it is, I thought. I might have to make a trip to the bathroom
and pour it down the sink. Either way, that drink was going to be empty by the end of the taping. Then, out of nowhere, I thought, Zico would have gotten me tea. I love tea. I shook Zico right out of my head. The MC Cony came over and introduced himself. He didn’t speak English so all he could really do was make the introduction and smile at me. It was very sweet. The taping began shortly after and when the boys came out Ji-Yong winked at me and Young-bae grinned. I blushed. Ji-Yong was right. They did make them do really stupid things but I found myself laughing at most of them. Especially T.O.P. He was really good at showmanship. Ji-Yong was quiet. Seungri tried to hog the spotlight whenever he got the opportunity. Daesung was quiet too unless the attention was on him. Young-bae never wanted the attention on him. When the taping was over, the attendant came and took me backstage. He waited outside while I made a quick stop at the bathroom. I honestly did have to pee
and pour that hideous drink down the drain. What Ji-Yong didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. I waited in a cute little sitting room with bright pink chairs that I sunk into when I sat down. It was so soft and squishy that it practically swallowed me. I felt like a little girl but I also felt like I could sleep there. Comfortably. Ji-Yong laughed at me when he came in to get me. “Oh, you are laughing at me? You were pretty funny driving that tiny car during the show you know!” I said as I laughed too. “Come on jjing-jjing-i . Lets have lunch,” he said. I tried to get out of the chair but it was just too squishy. It was eating me. I couldn’t get my feet on the ground to help push myself up. Ji-Yong watched me for a minute and instead of helping me, he fell into the chair opposite mine and died laughing. He was laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach and had tears at the corners of his incredible eyes. “Ji-Yong!” I whined. “Stop! Come and help me!” He laughed harder. Finally, Daesung came to the door and stood there watching the show. He looked very confused. I know I was red-faced, both from trying to get out of the chair and from embarrassment and Ji-Yong was red-faced from laughing so hard. I didn’t know him but I decided to beg his help anyway. “Daesung, will you please give me a hand? And then can you punch Ji-Yong in the face for me?” I asked with a straight face. He considered a minute, my remark making Ji-Yong laugh so hard that he couldn’t breath, and shrugged. “Sure!” Daesung came over and offered his hand. I took it and pulled myself out of the chair. We stood there watching Ji-Yong laughing which only made him worse. Then Daesung couldn’t help himself and started laughing too. I stared at him. “Okay! You said you would punch him in the face!” I said with the straightest face I could make. Then I couldn’t do it anymore. I joined in the merriment. I mean, it really was funny. Ji-Yong finally stopped laughing and lay there in the big pink squishy chair staring up at us and holding his tummy. “I love you guys!” he said. ​​​ The restaurant was quiet and cool and Ji-Yong led me in with his hand on the small of my back. For some reason, that has always been very sensual to me. It makes me feel a little bit possessed. And being possessed by G-Dragon didn’t seem to be a bad thing. He ordered for us, which made me a bit nervous. I don’t usually like men ordering for me because I have picky taste-buds but Ji-Yong promised me I would like this dish. Zico would order for me but he usually ordered steak and never gave me a choice. I hadn’t minded. Much. I thought about him sitting across from me pouring salt into his hand and making a mess. Looking over at Ji-Yong sitting quietly like a perfect gentleman made me miss Zico a little more. STOP thinking about Zico, you idiot! G-Dragon is sitting across from you and looking at you like he wants to devour you. Millions of girls want to be in your place! MILLIONS! I smiled at Ji-Yong and reached over to caress his hand. He pulled my fingers in between his fingers and thumb and held them there. “I wanted to ask you something,” he said. My heart sped up. When someone has to warn you that they are going to ask something, it’s never a good question. “Oh. Okay,” I said, my mouth dry. “Will you be my date for the MAMA’s?” I sucked in a breath and realized I hadn’t been breathing. “Oh my gosh! You scared me to death!” I said and laughed, lightly covering my mouth with my free hand. “Why? I’m sorry. Did you think I was going to say something horrible?” he asked. “Yes! You sounded so serious!” “Well, it is serious. Sort of. It’s months ahead and kind of a big deal.” “Are you sure you want to commit to that this early?” I asked. “Absolutely,” he said and letting go of my hand he sipped his water. “I don’t want to go with anyone else and I know I won’t change my mind. But will you?” Would I? “I would love to go with you,” I said. “Aaaaand you just made my night,” he said and kissed my hand. I smiled up at him with a blush brightening my cheeks. He leaned in for a kiss and as I put my lips against his I saw something over his shoulder. There was a man at a table behind us trying to hide the fact that he was taking pictures of us with his phone. “Ji-Yong, there is a man behind you taking pictures of us,” I whispered. He turned and looked at the man. “Come on man! We are having a private moment here! If those pictures are for your daughter, she won’t want them since I’m here with another woman.” “I don’t know what you are talking about!” The man said and laid his phone on the table, covering it with his napkin. “Look, I get it. And normally I don’t care but this beautiful young woman that I’m with isn’t in the business and deserves to have her privacy respected just like everyone else. Please stop.” “Is she your fiance?” asked the man. Ji-Yong stared at him for a moment. He turned back to me and said, “Turn around and keep your back to that man.” “Um, okay. Why?” I was very confused. “Just do it and I’ll explain in a moment,” he said, getting up from the table. I turned around and watched Ji-Yong walk to the back of the restaurant and go through a door that I was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to go into. I was dying to know what was going on and what the strange man was doing now but I didn’t turn around to look. Soon, Ji-Yong came out with two men from the restaurant. He pointed behind me and sat back down at our table. “You can turn around now,” he said and tapped my arm. I turned and watched as the two large gentlemen talked to the man at the other table. After a moment, they escorted him outside. “What was that about?” I asked. “He was a reporter for some trashy magazine so I had him ejected,” Ji-Yong said and spread his napkin on his lap. “You can just do that?” I asked, impressed. He grinned his little boy grin and said, “He was harassing you and I won’t have that.” “Uh, he was harassing you,” I said. “No, I’m a public figure and expect to be photographed and written about. You aren’t. So I had him bounced.” I laughed. “I know it’s horrible of me but that is so impressive.” “Good! I love to shock you. It keeps you interested.” He laughed too because he knew he sounded ridiculous. Our food came out then and it smelled delicious. It looked a little questionable but I was going to try it anyway. I started to ask him what I was about to put into my mouth but I saw something that made my stomach sour. For the second time that night I saw something I didn’t want to see over Ji-Yong’s shoulder. Coming through the restaurant door was Zico and Alicia. I noted that his hand was nowhere near the small of her back. I put my chopsticks down. “Are you okay? What is it?” Ji-Yong looked at me with concern. “Are you sick?” “I am now,” I said. “Can you have them ejected?” “What? Who?” He asked and turned around to see what had upset me. “Oh.” I saw the look on Ji-Yong’s face and was instantly sorry that I had said anything. “You know what?” I asked. “Who cares? Let’s ignore them. They have nothing to do with us.” “No, you are right. They don’t. Can you ignore them?” he asked. He had deflated a little. “Of course. I’ve gotten very good at it in fact,” I said. We looked at each other and laughed a little. I raised my fork and said, “Now, what in the hell is this?” ​​​ The atmosphere of the restaurant seemed even colder after that but we both did our best to ignore the creep show that was going on at the table just beyond ours. It was harder for me since they were behind Ji-Yong and I could see Zico very clearly. Either he hadn’t spotted me or he was pretending that he hadn’t. Compared to my date he was a mess. He had a suit on but it was rumpled and his tie was crooked. His hair was perfect except for a small cowlick in the very back. He was leaning back in his chair and wasn’t paying any attention to Alicia at all. She looked exceptional as always. Everything in its place without any visible imperfections. Hair perfect. Clothes perfect even if they were slutty. Perfect makeup and skin. God I hate her! I looked at Ji-Yong and he was staring at me. “You aren’t ignoring them,” he said. “I’m sorry. Was I looking at them?” I asked innocently. “More like memorizing,” he said. “Ji-Yong! I was not!” I tried to play with him to ease the tension. It didn’t work. “You still love him,” he said and took a drink of his wine. My mouth gaped open. I couldn’t believe he just went there. “I do not,” I said and began putting food into my mouth a little too quickly. “He’s still in love with you too. He just fucked up and now he doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s stuck.” Not only did he go there
 he went farther! “Ji-Yong, that is far from the truth. He made his choice and I’m sure he’s happy with it.” He turned around in his seat, unabashedly, and took in the couple behind us that was clearly having a fight. “Yes. He looks like a man that is ecstatic to be with his date.” He faced me again and picked up his chopsticks. “The same man that felt he had the right to let himself into your apartment and proceeded to try and beat my brains in because he thought I was doing something ungodly to you.” “He’s just protective,” I said. “Of his designer?” Ji-Yong asked. “Yes. Of all of his staff. He would do the same for any of them.” I didn’t want to have this conversation. “Elizabeth, you know I’m right.” I didn’t answer. Instead I watched as Alicia made her way to the bathroom and Zico finally noticed me. The oddest look came over his face. I’ve seen that look before. It was the same look he always got when he was about to do something that he shouldn’t. The cocky way he held his mouth. Partly open, bottom jaw a little crooked. It’s the same look he gets when he is about to pounce and have his way with you. I thought and felt a tickle in the pit of my stomach. Don’t come over here. Please, don’t. Do Not Come Over Here, Zico! DON’T DO IT. He did it. “So, how are the love birds this evening? What’s on the agenda tonight? Candle wax? Hot Fudge? Whips and chains?” asked Zico as he straightened his tie. “What do you want Zico? Come over to make sure I’m not putting poison in the food?” asked Ji-Yong. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms as he looked up at Zico. “Maybe. Did you?” Zico asked. If a person could stare daggers then both of these men would have one stuck right between their eyes. I couldn’t do anything but stare back and forth from one to the other. I didn’t know what to say or if I should say anything. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with me. “Not ours,” said Ji-Yong without missing a beat. “We were just finishing up so if you don’t mind, we will be going. We have a dungeon room reserved and waiting for us.” He stood and offered his hand to me and it took me a moment to understand that we were really leaving. I took his hand and tried not to look at Zico, who didn’t move so that I could stand up. I had to move my chair over. I could smell him. Zico had a special cologne made just for him and it was unmistakable. And sexy as hell. I couldn’t help but breath him in and close my eyes as I scooted past him. Ji-Yong wrapped his arm around my waist tightly and led me out the door as Zico stood there and watched us go. I looked back once more and felt a twinge of pity as his look changed from cocky to sad and he looked down at his feet. Oh, Zico

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stannamarsh · 7 years ago
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Souvenirs From Hell
Souvenirs From Hell, by H.R Martin, (AKA YokoKoko on Tumblr, though this is the best edit.) I worked all day on this and forgot to eat. ----------------------------------------- Maya Angelou once commented that, "There's no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you." A certain person who will be mentioned later gave the opposite advice. Don't tell stories. Stories make one accountable. . Anyway, this story is unapologetic and it is all mine. What I learned recently has to do with the difference between life as a messed up 24 or 25 year old and one as a messed up 29 year old, aka me. It starts with knowing what you want and planning how to get it. Knowing that your fuck-ups are your responsibility. Knowing you're a mentally ill bitch who says harsh things, making the granary of truth in your words harder to hear. It's frustrating that you were attempting to communicate but somehow you got it all wrong. It's wanting desperately to be more thoughtful, helpful, intelligent, necessary and kind with your words. It's striving for the best in every action I choose to take. I want to be a decent human being. Due to my flaws, it's a struggle. Knowing isn't the issue. Doing right is the challenge. As for the five years growth between 24 and 29 I never believed it was that big of a difference until I lived it. That gap, in my experience is filled with codependency and attempts to train or fix someone. This is how we drive ourselves crazy. It's their journey. Not letting others walk their own journey or not being left alone to walk it is 90% of our therapists' jobs. We should work on ourselves. Because many, if not most partners that we try to prod and improve, and love into what we need them to be are stubborn idiots, and frankly so are we, for attempting to do this. I don't want to waste my fucking energy trying to train them to man/woman/non-binary up and be friggin grownups. Not my circus, not my monkeys, and most certainly, not my cage. Now that the intro is finished, the goals. I want: 1) A home that is mine. Not living in a hippie garbage can or benign drug house, albeit one with a chill vibe, in a nice neighborhood full of little-free-libraries, with nice people who are doing their best so you can't really blame them. But goddammit, I want different. It scared me that this was becoming my life. Is this my scene? What about my goals? I got negative and bitchy, and eventually exploded despite your stellar hospitality. I'm trying to work on these things at my own place, but humans are influenced by their friends. I need to distance myself until my living space at Hawk's Ridge is up to my standards, I need to work on that. Yours can be whatever you want it to be. And the hypothetical me with my shit together would give zero fucks about that, once I'm confident that I have my own standards in place. Otherwise, I get very anxious. 2) A solid community of friends and family who are "going places" in life, to the best of their individual ability (which does not mean under the constant influence of recreational yet legal prescriptions.) I'm not judging, given my penchant for these, and the fact that I'm starting NA tonight. Legal drugs that become a grey area between therapeutic and recreational are fun, but they won't help you achieve you goals. Anxiolytics are for anxiety, or the dentist. Vicodin is for pain and don't mix either with copious amounts of alcohol. That's why you spend too much time throwing up instead of doing fun things, like a cancer patient with much nicer hair. Also, drink water if you want to keep up with Mexicans, working in the hot sun without getting heat exhaustion. Common sense, people. I'm not saying your pain isn't real but some of it is your doing, just like some of mine is my doing. We have to hold ourselves accountable, better ourselves, drink and smoke weed socially and responsibly on VACATION (not stupidly or ever before getting behind the wheel.) Get with the program. People with more obstacles than solid doctors, helpful family, and a paid-off home do it every day. This was what I was keeping to myself until I said it in the wrong way while crying in your bathtub, "communicating" why I was harshing your buzz with my negativity. At the time, I had had a Klonopin, a Xanax, a Vicodin, another Xanax, another Xanax, and alcohol. I'm not a puker. I'm a cathartic, brutally honest crier, which is as bad a vomit in its own way. It smells better but takes longer to clean up. I'm sorry I hurt that sweet boy's feelings through the wall and seemed ungrateful for your hospitality. It's my fault for taking all those drugs, but I wasn't comfortable, something was wrong, I couldn't put my finger on it, and I repressed it with anything available to keep from being rude. It didn't work. There was truth in what I said, but the way I put it was mean, and unnecessary. Holding stuff in is bad for me. You said communicate. I said what I said and if I hadn't said it then, I would have done so eventually. Yes, I am grateful to people who open their homes to me, go on adventures with me, share their possessions with me. Catharsis can be cruel. I can't hang around you when I have 99 problems to solve already. Whether you would even want that is a mystery to me. I'll be busy but I still care. Though, I expect at this point, it's tl;dr for the both of you. That's another thing. Friends are people for whom tl;dr does not exist, unless they've had a stroke or something. 3) If there is a love mate out there for me, a soulmate if such a thing exists, I want to encounter this person on my adventures. I don't chase or look, because it depresses me and reduces love "such that it is" to consumption, or a meal ticket, a housing situation, a drug connection, a business deal, or a codependent puddle of mutual enabling. It's worse than any drug, save needles, meth, or crack, and all too often often, "love" drives otherwise healthy people down that road. 4. I want to go to Boulder, CO, my own personal Mecca. My condolences that police and a drugged hippie were mutually stupid and it resulted in tragedy. I mean the guy was strung out running naked in public. The worst child murder/ rape in recent memory went down there too, but people move on and this is where I want to live. This is my goal and I'm strong enough to not let news reports stop me from achieving what I want. 5. I want my MLIS and I will get it in December. When I get my debt and income under control, I want to participate in a BA to MD/PH.D program because once I'm stable, and clean, I know I can buckle down, tear through that MCAT and make it happen. See, when I was messed up, I at least knew enough not to hurt myself or spend the next day vomiting. Let's turn this sad, low-rent talent of mine into something that can help people. Want to be: medical librarian, doctor, medical PH.D (You heard me: MUD/FUDD), writer,Gonzo blogger, adventurer, world traveler, and at times, gainfully unemployed. These will all happen if I go to my meetings and follow Dr. Robert's advice: Get clean, hang out only with stable people who are tackling their goals, and achieve my scholarly potential, which truth be told, is at least a Masters' and an M.D/Ph.D. Not to brag, but that potential is somewhere between Lisa Simpson and Malcolm in the MIddle. (Meaning I'm probably a crazy genius, and if I'm retarded, John is a vegetable, organic I hope, so as compost he can me useful.) People say all the time that you're too old to start over. If someone can't do it they want to tell you that you can't either. Age is just a number. And truth be told, I'd rather die learning than being stuck in mediocrity. 6. I want happiness, stability, freedom from drama. attachment issues, an end to envy that a friend or acquaintance has someone, no matter how messed up the situation. I want independence, to control my compulsive, self destructive need to help others when there's shit I have to do for myself, just to prove my worth and keep them from leaving me. I end up burnt out and I become unnecessarily honest at people. I need to trust my vibes. If a situation feels icky or grasping or just plan dirty, I'm out. It's been real. Thanks for having me. Time to go slay the other goals. 7. MONEY...ENOUGH money that I have everything I want and need,within reason and accounting for storage space: a home, a housekeeper, or at least some kind of professional organizer to help me with cleaning and beautifying my abode, which is not my forte. My wonderful parents Susan Coleman and Donald Jeff Martin are helping me follow my bliss. They are the absolute best parents. I can never do enough to properly thank them for giving me life, taking a great risk to do so, for my dad taking the time to give private preschool quality education to me as a toddler so now math and languages are easy, for my mom who taught me about feminism, and whether she knew it or not, supercharged my innate qualities of forthrightness, justice, and the desire to fight for what's right. Thanks for teaching me right from wrong,and taking care of me. I had an enriched life, despite our initial lack of money. That is a miracle. My parents (and my pets, and my goals) are, together MY EVERYTHING. Gratitude. Balance. Best Life. That's what I'm after. Money is the tool to reach goals, not the goal itself. 8. Lastly, I want adventure....safe, but not so safe that it isn't fun. Exploring the world, writing, experiencing, living. This alone will keep me from getting sucked into any sexist bullshit or dysfunctional "love" vortex. When I achieve THAT, the desire to hurt myself, check out, or die will be OVER forever. I know this instinctively. That's the GP. Hell. I might become a GP. But, I'd prefer something more Housean, such as Pathology or Internal Medicine, I am the queen of my castle. But, to paraphrase Marley, that castle is in my MIND. To paraphrase Thoreau, my castles in the sky are the shit. Now they and I need a proper FOUNDATION. None of this is meant to be a mean dig at Jexi. I call you this because I know you as a unit. Who are each of you individually?(Also, I don't think either of you are notorious enough to be figured out by that alone, so I'm attempting discretion.) This is just my perspective. My truth. Thank you's to: Gino Dykstra, Amy, the therapist, Doctor Robert Wesner, Dr Widitz, Dr. Don St. John, and Linda the P.C, and all the people from Partial Hospitalization and STEPPS. If I forget someone, add yourself. Oh, Lori Parrish Niemi, Christina Morris Penn-Goetsch, William Niemi, Jexi, for helping me gain this insight, and Keith E Gatling. Weirdly, I am also grateful for that squirrelly, two-faced bastard, John Trachsel, who made himself useful for the first time ever, by convincing me to abandon my impulsive suicide gesture. He didn't know who he was talking to so he treated me like a person/ possible lay for a while and pretended to care, right up until the point where he learned he had called me. I could hear him backtracking because he doesn't want people to know he talks to me. When I called him out on this, he called me crazy, "retarded", and finally admitted that he didnt want people to know he talked to me. He, in a his glory thinks he's too good to talk to me? I have his mugshot on my hard drive, named "ThereISAGod.jpg." This is bullshit because most people have no problem acting like a god-damn human toward me. Anyway, this is proof that even a shmuck-a- fuck like him may sometimes do good things by accident. Of course, if he'd caught on quicker, I think that he would have hung up immediately. If he, for one second believed that I, Hanna Martin. was distraught, suicidal, and in need of help, hell, that was his goal anyway, right? But screw you, I didn't kill myself. My point is that even though you badly need therapy and other help, you are not completely useless. There may still be inpatient help for you and I no longer wish you dead. Thanks to all who have helped. One day at a time.
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violecentstrs · 8 years ago
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Memories of Us - Chapter 7
A/N: Ufufufu. Classes have been a pain lately. I did almost forget to post today’s chapter because of that, but thankfully, here it is! I hope you enjoy this one!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warning(s): Drowning Word Count: 2,991 Summary: Soldier Reader looks exactly like Linda, a woman Bucky used to love. Little by little, she uncovers his past with Linda and what had happened between them through her visions. As she does, her feelings for Bucky grew as well. But, one question remains: if Bucky returns her feelings, will it be for Reader or for Linda?
<< Previous Chapter  ☀
★ ★ ★
‱ ‱ ‱
The armoured vehicle was a little cramped, but my father made sure that none of the soldiers would dare lay a finger on me. They are escorting us to a camp in Italy. The explosions and gun fires outside giving me a little scare.
We finally arrive at the camp and there I see a familiar face. The British agent, Peggy Carter. I walk over to her with the box of files of the new soldiers being sent over as reinforcement.
“Good day, Miss Carter. I have brought over the files of the reinforcement soldiers.” I say as I salute to her. She nods at me.
“Brilliant. Please place them into that tent over there. It’s good to see you again, Linda.” She says before smiling at me. Though, she seems a little bit troubled.
I check around the camp as well to see if I can get any hint of Bucky. I heard his unit is here as well. I had hoped to see him. I may need to walk around a bit before I can see him. It is a big camp after all.
I miss him. The last time we saw each other was in the previous camp. It’s been two months since then. I haven’t felt Bucky’s arms around me for so long.
I can still remember the way he touched me on our first night of making love. Even though it was out in the woods, it still felt phenomenal. The heat from his body and the gentle of his lips felt so heavenly at the time. After that, every chance we get to spend time together in secret, we took it.
When I returned to Peggy, she is holding two photos in hand.
“Is everything all right, Miss Carter?” I ask her. She smiles over at me.
“Everything is all right. I need to give these surveillance photos to Colonel Phillips.” She says. I look around.
“Is Steve around? I hear he’s here for the tour.” I also haven’t seen Steve after his last tour. Peggy’s face turns white slightly before she looks down at me.
“He’s missing in action currently.” She says calmly before heading out to the tent.
Just like that? It was hard for me to process that in. Steve is missing in action? But why? He’s not out there on the battlefield is he? He’s just here to give encouragement to soldiers and entertain them. Not out to fight?
I met Steve when he was sent out to the camp in France. He was such a kind and humble man. Steve always talks about wanting to make a difference in the war. To die alongside his brothers out there. Unfortunately, he became a monkey in a circus after the serum when he should be out there to help and win the war. It frustrated him, but he obeyed orders nonetheless.
To know that he was childhood friends with Bucky blew my mind. We all know how famous Steve got after his stage name as Captain America. He became the talk amongst the soldiers too. But Bucky never mentioned about him being his childhood friend.  
I open up my notebook in hand. Bucky’s picture tucked away in one of the pages. I pull it up to gloss over his features again. How much I missed this very face. I hold it to my chest before slipping it back in between the pages.
Soon after I hear a commotion happening just by the entrance. I watch as Colonel Phillips walks out with Peggy. A large group of soldiers walk in with Steve in the front. I gasp and wanted to run over, but the other soldiers beat me to it. I stand still, watching them from far.
From within the crowd of soldiers, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face. Bucky’s face. My heart jumps. He seems to be injured, but fine nonetheless. I want to run and kiss him so badly. I missed him so much.
There was a loud commotion among the men. Salutes, claps and cheers grew louder and louder by the second. I wonder what had happened to them.
“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!” Bucky’s voice from within the crowd erupt. I smile to myself. It’s been a long while since I last heard that cheery voice.
‱ ‱ ‱
I narrowly avoid Natasha’s roundhouse kick. I wrap my hands around her ankle, pulling her towards me. I kneed her once in her stomach before she kicks my chest. Steve swoops in to pull her off me and throws her towards Bucky. He catches her immediately before dashing towards us.
Steve blocks off Bucky’s punch and twists his metal arm. Natasha head scissors Steve and elbows him right in the head. I use my weight to push Bucky away from Steve while he deals with Natasha.
Bucky grabs hold of me and tosses me down on the floor. He then lands his fist right next to my head. A flash of vision runs through my mind at the sight of Bucky. His red and sweating face above mine. My heart beats wildly before the vision fades away. Even Bucky stopped momentarily as he looks at me with his fist buried into the floor.
I kick him off me with all of my might before getting back up. I can feel myself getting dizzy. Bucky stares me down as I was trying to get my mind back in the fight. I stand for a moment right before feeling a sharp pain on my abdomen. Natasha had kicked me right there when I was distracted.
I flew onto the ground hard, gasping for air. I hear Bucky grunting when Steve tackles him down to the ground.
“No spacing out during a fight!” Natasha yells out as she waits for me to get back up on my feet. But the kick she did had been exactly where that bullet wound was. The pain was so much for me to bear suddenly. I make the time out sign while taking a deep breath.
“Time out!” I yell behind the pain. That made the pain worse. I hear Steve and Bucky stop struggling with each other after that. Steve runs over to check on me.
“You okay, Y/N?” He asks while holding me. I give him a slow nod. There will be no time outs in the actual battle. I need to get this pain sorted.
“Sorry about that, I forgot your wound was still healing.” Natasha says guiltily as she rushes over to me with Bucky. I wave it off. If it was the real fight, the enemy would have used any chance they get to make us weaker.
I massage the pain a little. Nope. Nope. Pain. The throbbing and stinging pain is too much for me. Steve rolls me on the side and lift my shirt up enough to check on the scar. There was a bruise forming over it so quickly. I couldn’t even breathe properly.
“We need to take her to infirmary.” Steve says. I take another deep breath to lessen the pain. Without a word, Bucky swoops me up in his arms.
“I’ll take her to the infirmary.” He says as he walks out of the training room. I clutch my throbbing abdomen. My head is spinning and my chest is tight. The pain. The piercing pain.
“You’ll be okay, Y/N.” Bucky says worriedly.
I can feel the grip in his hands on my body. I look up at him. Another flash of vision. Younger Bucky again holding me in his arms. The same worried expression washed over his face under a heavy rain. No
 there was no rain. But he was soaking wet.
He said the same thing to me, but with Linda instead of my own name.
“I’ll be fine, Sergeant. You worry too much.”
What I said made him stop in his tracks. I can feel his arms shivering underneath me. I was hit with nostalgia. This time, it felt like my body was soaked. I couldn’t breathe like I am right now. My body felt heavy. Bucky’s terrified yet surprised eyes caught with mine.
His lips are quivering. He wanted to say something, but didn’t. He leads me quietly into the infirmary and sets me down on one of the beds. I sigh out a little. The throbbing pain is still there, but it had lessen. Bucky sits on the chair next to me after calling the doctor over.
The doctor gives me painkillers and a drink. I close my eyes and wait for the pain to stop. It felt like eternity. It was so painful and piercing. It felt like I got that bullet wound all over again.
“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, reaching for my hand. His hand felt so warm and gentle in mine. It was reassuring and loving. I open my eyes to look at him.
Another vision. Same young Bucky looking at me with concerned eyes. He was wet from head to toe. We were in an old looking tent with a nurse behind him. I was glad to see him. My heart is filled with love and happiness. But also fear, guilt and sadness. Both of us were wet. I don’t know why because in that vision, it is sunny and hot outside.
The vision clears out and I find myself staring at Bucky. I let out a gasp and pull my hand away from his. He was surprised at my sudden move too. He retreats his hand to lace his fingers together.
“I
I’m sorry. I’ll be fine. Thank you, Bucky.” I say while looking up at the ceiling. What was that feeling just now?
“Okay. Get some rest.” Bucky says reaching over to stroke my hair. My heart jumps to his touch. But it was reassuring. I nod and close my eyes again. I take a slow and deep breathe to keep the pain at bay. Before I knew it, I passed out.
‱ ‱ ‱
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I feel like I’m being dragged down. I was trapped. I was in a dark space. I can feel myself sinking. I’m slowly losing my consciousness from the lack of air.
Blood was everywhere in the water. I can still taste it in my mouth. I can still smell it everywhere on my body and clothes.
Then I heard it. A loud bang.
My eyes were cloudy from the mix of blood and water. But that’s when I saw him. Bucky. I can always tell when it is him. He just broke the door effortlessly. He reaches over for me. But I couldn’t move. I was fading away slowly.
A rush of air moves suddenly right into my lungs. Bucky pressed his lips against mine. He’s giving me some of his air. I still felt weak. He swims up to the surface. But I still couldn’t try to get that fresh air into my lungs.
“Don’t die on me, Linda!”
Linda? Again? He mistook me for Linda?
He drags me to the side and lay me on the ground. His expression was filled with fear, worry and sadness. I wanted to tell him it is okay. I wanted to tell him that I am fine now. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.
I watch him as he performs CPR on me. His hands pressed down on my ribs so painfully hard. His lips over mine to breathe life back into me. He never stopped, even when Steve came over to stop him. They are mumbling something. No, shouting at each other. An explosion goes off nearby followed by gunshots.
His lips on mine were all too familiar. But it wasn’t like always. It was full of desperation and fear. Bucky wouldn’t stop doing CPR on me.
What’s wrong? What is wrong with me? I couldn’t move or speak. Just frozen. Steve is trying to pry Bucky away from me. A tank is approaching on the bridge. A tank with the Nazi flag.
“Linda! Don’t you dare leave me! Linda!” Bucky yells. Tears are streaming down his eyes. Bucky, what’s wrong? Don’t cry
 Bucky, please don’t cry

With that final breath from Bucky, I jolt back up.
‱ ‱ ‱
I gasp for air and cough so violently that I felt my insides are about to burst. Bucky jumps up from his chair to run towards me. He holds me tightly as I cough. I felt like I was choking on water for some reason, but my mouth was as dry as a desert.
“Y/N! What’s wrong??” Bucky looks at me worriedly. He reaches over for the bottle of water and hands it over to me. I shake my head, suddenly feeling the fear of being close to one. What kind of dream was that?
I brush my messy hair away from my face as I slowly gain control over my body again. I take slow deep breaths to calm my nerves. Bucky’s gentle hand continuously stroking my back to help me calm down. Sweat was covering every inch of my body. I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve.
“Are you okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes on me. I glance over at him. He was genuinely concerned. I nod.
“Yeah. Just
 a bad dream.” I say, wiping the sweat away from my neck. I sigh out. This is a little disgusting for me to sweat all over the place.
“What dream?” He asks while pulling up the chair again to look at me. I sit for a moment and replay that dream again. It felt so real. Felt so familiar.
“Drowning.” I say. Horror envelops Bucky’s face.
“What? Now you’re going to say that Linda had drowned before.” I say while laughing. When I got no response from him, I look over. I widen my eyes when I see Bucky’s eyes filled with fear and horror. Like he just had a terrible flashback. Wait
 it can’t be, right?
“No
” I say as I sit up straight. I search around his face. He is still wearing that horrified look on his face. After what it felt like an eternity, he finally gets his composure back. He leans forward a little. It was silent for a few moments.
“She did.” He says with a painful tone.
“She died from it?” I ask, watching him. He shakes his head.
“No. I managed to bring her back. I did almost lose her.” His hands are shaking. It’s surprising to even see his metal hand shaking. Both guilt and curiosity wraps around me.
“What happened?” I ask, leaning close to him. He looks up at me. His blue eyes are almost too painful to look into.
“We were evacuating an army base. We managed to do it, but the Nazi soldiers came just as we were about to leave ourselves. Linda was in a car with two other soldiers. Their car was blown off into the river from the bridge. I jumped in to save her.” I can sense fear and pain in his tone. As though that memory still haunts him sometimes.
I reach for his hand to give him the reassurance. He looks up at me with near tear eyes. He musters up a smile.  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something sad from your past.” I say a little guiltily. If that’s the case, would that dream somehow be a memory of her? But it felt as though it was me, not Linda. Like I was the one that was drowning.
“No, it’s okay. She managed to have a life after that anyways.” He says, still feeling the pain of that memory. Or maybe it’s a whole different pain.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” I ask. He looks up at me for a moment. I felt my heart jumped at how his expression softens. He didn’t have an answer for me. For some reason that made me really sad deep inside.
“Why didn’t you stay with her?” I ask while rubbing my knees. My body is feeling sore all of the sudden. He breathes out a sigh before standing up from the chair.
“I told her life and death is not within my control. I died once. That’s why I couldn’t be with her.” He says while making his way to the door. For some reason that felt like a huge lie. Like, a painfully large lie that had once torn my heart into pieces. It made my insides boil with so much anger so suddenly too.
“You’re lying!” I shout at him angrily.
I gasp and hold my hand to my mouth. He even looks at me surprised. I don’t know where that came from. It was completely random. I had no reason to suspect him of lying about that. My body is shivering from both anger and sadness. I take a deep breath to get those feelings out of me.
Where are these emotions coming from? Just now I was feeling guilty. Now I was sad and angry.
We were quiet. So painfully quiet that I swear I can hear his heart beating so fast. He turns around and takes the first step to approach me. His eyes was filled with so much pain and regret. Of what, I don’t know.
He looks like he’s about to throw his arms around me. He looks like he’s about the deliver the longest and most heartfelt apology anyone would have given. But he stops himself before he could. I can see how hard he is holding himself back. I didn’t know what to do or what to say.
“Get some rest, Y/N.” He says with such a cold tone. He turns around, leaving out through the door. A quick vision flashes through. Young Bucky walking out of the woods during the dark of night. Leaving me all alone. Cold, confused and broken.
Just like right now.
★ ★ ★
☀  Next Chapter >>
A/N: Dundundun! Bucky and reader is getting a little closer now.~ And Linda’s history continues to hit the reader like a machine gun. How will reader handle this situation~? Anyways, I hope you guys truly enjoy that. 
I would like to quickly say thank you for those who have been liking and reblogging my stories. Even following me since I started posting my stories. I really appreciate every single of you guys. <3 Please don’t hesitate to message me or talk to me if you’d like. I will not bite. Any comments or criticism from you guys is greatly appreciated. I want to know what I can do to help improve my writings for you guy’s enjoyment!  
Till then, thank you for reading and much love! <3 
Tag(s): @shamvictoria11​  @munsurieya​  @inumorph​  @38leticia​  @anbrax5553​  @queenayles​  @inspirevato​  @zxcorra​  @bucky-barnes-pls​  @soymikael​  @summeralexander​  @ninjayjumper​ @alphaaddict​  @buckybarnesbestbabe​
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adustierstar · 8 years ago
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Tagged by @ohsososophisticated​ ! Thank you! (just getting around to these, months late...)
Coke or pepsi: Coke
Disney or dreamworks: Disney, minus Frozen, plus How to Train Your Dragon (and Rise of the Guardians)
Coffee or tea: i don’t really drink either reliably
Books or movies: my gut says books, but I think they’re about equal these days? maybe not, i don’t see that many movies. idk
Windows or mac: Windows, i’ve had one mac and one iphone apiece, and will probably not go back to either
Dc or marvel: Overall i’d say Marvel, but recently.....
Xbox or playstation: i have both, and use my ps4 more, but only for Netflix/Hulu, etc (though Starz is on the Xbone, so there’s that)
Dragon age or mass effect: never played either, but suspect i would enjoy both
Night owl or early riser: neither! i sleep too much. i get most of my work done between dinnertime and bedtime, though.
Cards or chess: i’ll say cards. i was big into chess in 2nd grade, but not really ever since then.
Chocolate or vanilla: depends on the thing. i tend to prefer vanilla ice cream, but chocolate custards etc. idk it has to be a good, well-made dessert before the flavor matters.
Vans or converse: i mean i have owned converse, but never vans, but like...i don’t care?
Lavellan, trevelyan, cadah, or adaar: is this a dragon age thing? see above
Fluff or angst: Fluff forever *clap clap clapclapclap* (this answer was perfect as-is)
Beach or forest: are there bugs in the forest? is the beachy sun a deadly lazer? can’t i go to a cafe or something instead?
Dogs or cats: dogs. i don’t need a pet’s help judging me, i do that enough thanks.
Clear skies or rain: this depends. am i inside or outside? do i have work to do?overall, i prefer clear skies, but some days rain is so cozy.
Cooking or eating out: Eating at restaurants is one of my favourite things to do and I’d do it every day if I could :9 I can cook, I just find it tedious so I tend to make simple, quick meals when I’m cooking for myself. (YES THIS, at least while i live alone)
Spicy food or mild food: I am too weak and white to handle actually spicy food. pain is not a flavor.but i do LIKE flavors! i try, you guys.
Halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: i love both ;_; except as an adult, halloween usually has less to offer me, bc i don’t drink/ do the bar thing, so i guess christmas? but i love costumes and candy almost as much as i love presents and cozy winter foods/ peppermint so this is difficult
Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: a LITTLE bit either way is fine, but these days, being Old (TM), i am equally uncomfortable in both extremes
If you could have a superpower, what would it be: Teleportation would be sweet. i really like to sleep, and traffic is the WORST
Animation or live action: depends? i tend to think if it can be animated it should be  (but this is only true for 2d, i don’t support willy-nilly cg modeling), but i like plenty of live action films as well.
Paragon or renegade: i think this one is mass effect, but see above.
Baths or showers:i usually shower, but sometimes you need a good soak.
Team cap or Team ironman: cap
Fantasy or sci-fi: itend to prefer fantasy, but like plenty of sci-fi
Do you have three or four favourite quotes? If so what are they?:
“If you’re not afraid, you’re not paying close enough attention.” The Simpsons
“Not my circus, not my monkeys” (internet-attributed) Polish proverb
“Ðés overĂ©ode, ĂŸisses swa mĂŠg” - the Wanderer
â€œÊ’ĂŠĂ° a wyrd swa hio scel” - Beowulf
“Qui si convien lasciare ogni sospetto/ ogni viltà convien che qui sia morta” - Inferno
Youtube or netflix: I use Netflix more often, but there’s plenty of stuff you can’t get outside of YouTube (like Seth Rudetsky’s Obsessed videos, or Broadway cams, etc etc). SO I also vote both.
Harry potter or percy jackson: I’ve not bothered with Percy Jackson, so I guess HP wins it.
When do you feel accomplished: When I actually do something I’ve been meaning or needing to do. Also when I consider how many things I have done that other people haven’t, or would consider hard, even though I am in the habit of downplaying the difficulty or importance of these things.
Star wars or star trek: Both! They’re very different and fulfill different requirements.
Paperback books or hardback books: It’s much easier to read paperbacks, but hardbacks are so pretty! So it depends. And both, depending on how much I like the book.
Horror or rom-com? There are very strict limits on both. If the rom-com is stupid, I don’t want it. If the horror movie is gory, I don’t want it. That said, the repercussions of a bad rom-com are less terrible than horror, so I guess that?
To live in a world without literature or music: I don’t understand (read: hate) the question and I won’t respond to it
Pastel colors or dark colors: Depends what for? I like pastels but don’t look good in them. I like dark colors but often don’t look good in them, either. So whatever? All colors?
Tv shows or movies: TV shows. I love movies, but am way more likely to watch a TV show.
City or countryside: I have recently come to the conclusion that I am a suburban mouse. I need both in manageable distance. 
If any other zodiac sign could describe you, what would it be: I don’t know the first thing about the zodiac and have always enjoyed being associated with centaurs, so I refuse.
If you could only listen to one album for the rest of your life what would it be? This is cruel. I feel way too lazy rn to think of a good answer, but it would probably be a cast recording.
Cinema or theatre? I appreciate that I can see movies more than once and they’ll be exactly the same, but I also deeply appreciate that I can see a show more than once and it will be a little different. Plus live actors tend to be MASSIVELY talented, and you really can’t compete with some of these people singing your face off in the same room as you.
If you could be any fictional character’s best friend, who’d you be? I love too many characters!!!! But I feel like if I could convince Death to give me Albert’s job I might like it.
Smiling or smirking? Idk I do a lot of both. But I probably actually smile more.
Are you an ‘all or nothing’ type or are you more consistent? I’m beginning to realize that there are some things I’m really all or nothing about - like I dive in headfirst and give it everything, but the second I lose momentum I’m out. Maybe not everything, but a lot of things.
Playlists or your whole library on shuffle? Playlists on shuffle. Man I’m being an ass about every single one of these either or questions. But honestly I don’t care about the order, but I do care about what songs are associated with each other. Unless it’s a show, then it’s on in order.
Travelling or staying at home? I like to travel! I’m such a homebody most of the time that I really enjoy getting out and seeing the world. We only get so much time, and there’s a whole lot of world!
If you could have a meal with three people, alive and dead, who would you choose? Terry Prachett, David Bowie, and Carrie Fisher. I want to meet all of them and be their friends, and if you’re giving me magic necromancy damnit I’m going to make use of it. Plus I love them all and feel like they might have a good time together.
Favourite sports team? Ummmm...honestly idek I don’t follow any sports anymore, except wrestling (and then not closely) so...the Fashion Police?
Tag amongst yourselves, I don’t like to pressure people. But please feel free to act as though I tagged you - I want to know about you!
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ecotone99 · 5 years ago
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Mr. Bozo
Disclaimer, this is a bit of a longer story, but if you took some time out of your day to red, it means the world to me. Criticism is welcome please enjoy. :)
Growing up, I was never really a kid who got scared easily. But, that all changed when Mr. Bozo let himself into my life and haunted me for years. It all started in 1987, in my 7 year old mind I didn’t sense anything wrong when I came home from school to find a music box in the middle of the my room, I figured my mum must have gotten me a new toy. There was a letter on it that said “play me” I wound it up, and it played that familiar tune that every kid became accustomed to in nursery. I sang along “round and round the merry go round the monkey chases the weasel, round and round the merry go round pop goes the weasel.” Nothing happened for a minute. Then the lid popped open, but no clown popped out like it usually does. Instead there was an image of a clown on the bottom of the lid that popped up, it had red tuffs of hair coming out on either side of its head. It’s eyeshadow was blue stars the shaped around it’s eyes, it’s lips were full and crimson in color, it’s nose was just as red. It wore a yellow jumpsuit with red and white polka dots all over. My mum called out to me “billy it’s time for dinner, come on it’s your favorite.” When I turned back to the music box, the clown in the image was gone. I shrugged it off and went downstairs for dinner. “Thanks for the new music box, mum” my mum looked puzzled, “what music box?” She asked. “My new toy music box, the one in my room” there was a moment of silence. “Maybe it was your father” she finally said. Almost as if on queue my dad walked in. “Daddy!” I yelled in excitement, “hey kiddo!” He yelled back. “How was work dad?” I inquired. “Long and insane I was thinking about you he whole time!” “Really?” I asked. “Really Really” he said as he picked me up to pull me into a hug and a prickly facial haired kiss. “Hugh, did you buy William a new music box toy?” Mummy asked. Now my dad looked puzzled “no” he said, “I haven’t been able to buy anything lately, Andrea has been cutting everyone’s checks down to fix equipment at work.” He explained. My mum sighed “again that’s the third time they’ve been cutting your pay”. “Sarah look I know things seem bad, but once everything is fixed I’ll be getting a raise, Andrea even said so.” My mum paused then said “okay, okay” my dad continued “I promise things will turn around. We’ll get back up on payments and w’ell be able to buy whatever we need, plates pots pans anything and everything we need.” “Even new toys?” I squeak with excitement. “Yes even new toys, kiddo” my dad says. “Yay!” I cheer. My mum laughs, “alright its time for bed buddy” my mum says “okay, I love you mum I love you dad.” I say and I run upstairs as fast as I can and jump into my bed. I completely forgot about the music box, and passed into dream land. I was awaken by a terrible deep guttural laughter, that sounded like a cross between the joker and a hyena. I looked at my alarm clock, it read 3:15 AM, I looked around groggily and about pissed myself when I saw my closet door opening slowly. Out stepped the clown from the music box. “Hello” he said, his voice was scratchy like a smoker but also like a cartoon character come to life. “Um hi” I said. He continued. “What’s your name, child?” He asked. “William, but most of my friends call me billy” I say meekly, “hello billy, I’m Mr. Bozo, and I’m your best friend” that took me aback as I found it a little odd that a clown had just pronounced himself to be my best friend after I had just met him. “Um actually my best friend is James, from school” his smile faded a bit “why can’t you have to best friends?” He asked. “Well I guess I can have an imaginary best friend.” I said, he seemed to be pleased with that and started smiling again. “So what should we do first?” He said while rubbing his hands together. “It’s a little early for this don’t you think?” “Oh, you’re right, go back to sleep I’ll just sit here” he sat himself in my rocking chair in the corner of my room by my closet. “Don’t you need to sleep too?” I asked him “oh no, I’m fine, I’ll just watch over you” he said. I found that very unnerving, but was too tired to protest. So just ended up passing out. The next morning, Mr. Bozo was gone I chalked it up to just being a very vivid dream. I found breakfast downstairs ready for me, bacon eggs hash browns and pancakes. I ate as much as I could and got ready to walk to school, it was the middle of December, so it was a bit hard to walk with all the layers of coats my mum had put on me. Halfway through my walk Mr. Bozo’s voice came out of nowhere “I almost didn’t recognize you, what with all those coats on you.” He startled me so I jumped back a bit and ended up slipping and falling. He laughed a bit, then helped me up “clowning is what my job, buckaroo.” He told me “Mr. Bozo?” “That’s my name, don’t wear it out” he said to me. “I thought you were just a dream” I said, he frowned again, it was rather disturbing seeing him frown. “Well that hurts my feelings, bill” he said. “I’m sorry I just am really tired and didn’t expect to see you again.” “No worries” he said with an ear to ear grin. His teeth were massive. They were almost like a sharks teeth rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. “Mr. Bozo, why do you have so many teeth?” I asked him, “they’re for eating all of my delicious circus peanuts.” He said proudly. He pulled out a bag of circus peanuts and asked if I wanted some, my gut kept telling me for the love of god, don’t eat those peanuts “no thank you I have a peanut allergy” I lied to him. His face contorted into a face that said, I don’t believe you and you disappoint me at the same time. “But, I’ve seen you eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before,” in hindsight it makes me ponder just how long did Mr. Bozo watch me? “Well that’s like a peanut free peanut butter” I said to him. He looked like he was pondering that answer then he seemed to except it with an “okie-dokie” when we were about to enter the school Mr. Bozo told me, “I can’t go in with ya,” “why not?” I asked “grown ups see me differently then kids do, they see me as someone who wants to hurt children, a monster.” He started sobbing “poor, poor Mr. Bozo...” He whaled. “Hey, it’s okay Mr. Bozo. You’re not a monster.” “Really?” He sniffled. “Really really, in fact you’re my best friend!” I said, I was just trying to get him to stop crying. “Okay... I’ll see you at home billy” he smiled that same toothy grin, and walked away. When I got home 6 hours later, he was waiting for me in my room. “Want to play a game?” Mr. bozo asked, “sure, what game?” I said. “Hide and seek!” He boomed. “Okay should I start counting?” I asked him “yes you start counting and I’ll hide.” He said with glee. “1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10 ready or not here I come!” I yelled over my shoulder I saw his feet poking out as he hid behind the curtains of my bedroom window. I pulled them back and yelled, “found ya!” He smiled and laughed “nobody has ever found me before” he giggled. “Your turn to hide” he said. Then he began to count, “1... 2... 3... 4... 5....” I hid in my bedroom closet and had to stop my laughter from escaping my lips. I heard him continue counting “6.... 7.... 8... 9.... 10 ready or not here I come!” I saw through the crack in my closet door that he spat a little. He looked around a bit, under my bed behind the curtain in my toy box before he said ”you’re really good at this game” I let out a little squeak of a giggle. He turned to the closet door “there you are!” He said he made his way to the door and opened it he looked down at me and smiled. “You found me!” I yelled in excitement, he was drooling profusely. A warm puddle of spit was all over the floor. “Mr. Bozo, why are you drooling so much?” I asked, “oh, it’s these dang teeth o’ mine! I just get so drooly” his smile faded and he just stared at me for a minute. Still drooling. My dads voice came from downstairs, “billy it’s time for dinner” “I’ll be right down” I yelled back “come one Mr. Bozo” “you go ahead” he said. I left the room, and went down the hallway. I could feel Mr. Bozo’s stare burning through the back of my head the whole time. At dinner my dad asked the usual questions a father does, how was school? What did you do today? I told him that I made a friend and that him and I have been having A lot of fun together. “Oh? And what’s this friends name?” “Mr. Bozo!” I said matter of factly. “What an odd name” my mother said. “He’s a clown who lives in my closet” I said “oh, an imaginary friend” said my dad. “Well you tell Mr. Bozo that he is welcome to join us for dinner any time he wants.” Said my mum, we laughed and joked for a long while after dinner. Until around 10:30 “alright off to bed kiddo” my dad says, “okay goodnight mum, goodnight dad, I love you.” “We love you too kiddo” my dad says, with that I run up the stairs and into my room where Mr. Bozo waits. “How was dinner?” He asks “it was okay” I answer “let’s play a game again” he says “I can’t tonight, it’s late maybe in the morning before school.” “Oh okay...” he trails off and is again drooling, a lot. “Well I’m off to bed Mr. Bozo, goodnight” “goodnight, I’ll watch over you again” I got the chills with the thought that he’d be watching me as a slept again. “Um okay Mr. Bozo you do that, I guess.” I couldn’t sleep for a good portion of the night, I think Mr. Bozo could sense I was awake because he leaned over me and said in my ear, “come join the circus billy” I fell asleep after that. The next day at school was super uneventful, so I was really eager to get home and play with Mr. Bozo. Once I came through that door, my backpack was on the ground and I was bolting up the stairs. Mr. Bozo, I’m home I yelled, Mr. Bozo was nowhere to be seen, and my parents were sitting on my bed. They looked a little disappointed. “Mummy Daddy? What’s wrong?” I asked “billy what is this?” She held up a piece of paper on it was a drawing of mummy her neck was slit and on it was written “die bitch” I was shocked. “Mummy I didn’t do that” “don’t lie to me!!” My mum shrieked. “Billy why did you draw this?” My dad said with a stern face and a very strong hint of anger in his voice. “Dad I didn’t” I said I started to cry a bit, “well then who the hell did it?!?!!” My mum yelled at me. “It wasn’t me” I began balling my mum and day were furious. They took away all my toys and left the room. An hour or so later Mr. Bozo came out of the closet and tried to comfort me. “Billy, there there. You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Mr. Bozo they don’t believe me, I didn’t draw the picture.” Mr. Bozo laughed a little “I know, I did.” Silence “you?.... you what?... why did you do that?...” I cried he continued to speak “they tried to take you away from me billy. Come.... join the circus then the fun will never end” he chuckled his clown laughter. “No! I don’t want to join the circus!” I yelled at him. He looked annoyed more then anything else. “Fine” He said he then made a pouty face and summer-salted back into the closet. I went to bed. I didn’t go back to school the next day and Mr. Bozo didn’t appear at any point that afternoon or night. I only went downstairs for food and to do mandatory chores for my punishment. Dinner came we ate in silence, and I was sent to my room for the night. Before I started drifting off I could hear Mr. Bozo’s voice coming from the closet “come join the circus, billy” I finally fell asleep. That night I dreamt of Mr. Bozo, he was chasing me through a carnival sort of structure. I was crying and he was laughing. Then he caught me and would say over and over again “come join the circus” every time a thick stream of spittle would drip out of his moth and all over my face. Then I woke up, the sun was out, and it was time for school. My heart sunk when I realized my face was wet. Mr. Bozo’s laughter radiated from the closet once more. “Did you enjoy our game of tag, billy?” I sniffled “leave me alone” he just once again laughed, “if you had just played the game, it wouldn’t have come to this” I went to school, but didn’t do any of my work or talk to any of my friends. When I got home today my mum and dad were screaming and crying and holding each other. Our dog was dead it was lying on the ground motionless, it didn’t have a head. There was blood everywhere. My dad stopped me from looking. He held me closely. I knew who did this, “it was Mr. Bozo” I said, my mum erupted, “just stop it!!” My dad looked at me sadly “go to your room billy” I did as I was told. When I got to my room Mr. Bozo was waiting for me he was somehow defying the laws of gravity and was sitting on the ceiling. “I guess I got a little hungry, hey want to play a game?” He asked “please, go away... “ I said. He wasn’t happy. “Poor billy, that’s not an option. If you don’t play with me who will you play with?” He laughed “I have other friends” I told him. He smiled his sinister smile. “We’ll see!” The next morning. I was terrified to see Mr. Bozo sitting like a child in the middle of the ground. “You know if you keep this up, bad things will happen” he said. I ignored him and left for school. That day I couldn’t find my friends at lunch, I couldn’t the next day either in fact I didn’t see them for the rest of the week. My dad just happened to be watching the news when I got home one day. I remember what it said to this day “two families slaughtered in one day cops ruled it to being a homicide/suicide among the two families was four victims in total husband and wife Cheryl and nick Trenton and Zachary and Samantha summers. Two boys were also found dead in their rooms James Trenton and Lincoln summers Police found a small music box in each boys rooms similar to each.” Silent tears rolled down my face mummy and daddy tried to comfort me but I had enough. Without a word I went upstairs and laid on my bed and cried for hours. Mr. Bozo appeared “do you want to play now?” I yelled at him to go away “is that any way to talk to your best friend?” He asked I told him he wasn’t my best friend and that I hated him. laughter “one day, billy, you’ll join the circus with your good friend Mr. Bozo!” I didn’t say anything and just went to bed. That next morning I’d begin a new schedule Wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth, ignore the clown screaming at me to stop ignoring him, leave for school. And while at school Mr. Bozo would do something so awful and terrible to torment me, my mother, and my father. Years passed like that it tore my family apart. We didn’t talk to each other. We didn’t love each other. My mum and dad fought more and more. I cried every night. And every night before I passed out I heard Mr. Bozo beckoning from the closet “come join the circus, billy”. One night I woke to Mr. Bozo he was standing over my bed and was rubbing my face with something, “what the hell are you doing?” His smile became so bright when I acknowledged his presence. “I’m giving you a makeover.” He said, he then held up a small mirror. My face was like his painted like a clown. “You’re just in time for dinner” he said maliciously. His jaw unhinged like a snake and he raveled all his layers of teeth. His spittle dripping on the floor as he opened wider and wider to fit his mouth around my head. I screamed. My mum and dad came running down the hallway and burst open the door Mr. Bozo looked at my parents with anger in his eyes. My dad had his gun with him, now they knew of his presence and was just as terrified as I was. Mr. Bozo backflipped into the closet door and slammed it shut, my mum comforted me while my dad tried to open the closet door. He never got it open. He tormented us for years. Mum and dad filed for divorce. I stuck with dad and mum went back to her home town of Derry main. Then one day in mid September of 1997 it all came to a halt. For 20 years, nothing. I grew old, dad passed away, I got married and had a kid. The memory and thoughts of Mr. Bozo left my mind.
My little girl is such a sweet heart, she’s always singing, “round and round the merry go round the monkey chases the weasel, round and round the merry go round pop goes the weasel!” Every night since I heard that tune come out of her mouth iv’e been on edge. I sit outside her door at night with a baseball bat and wait patiently. Finally one night in October of 2017 I hear it. Screaming me and the wife are Up and running through that door in a heartbeat. And there he is Mr. Bozo same yellow jump suit with red and white polka dots, red hair nose lips and blue stared eyes. He looked exactly the same except he had elongated arms that come to clawed hands that rip out of his white clown gloves his mouth was unhinged and was hanging open showing all his razor sharp teeth that threatened to bite into my daughters head. Just like the night he tried the same with me. “Get the hell away from my daughter!!” I yell at him his mouth closes and he turns his attention to me his eyes glowed amber red radiating hatred for me. I swing the bat and hit him right in the face his head cracks in half and down his face drips a thick black fluid with chunks of confetti spewing all of the floor. He screams in pain and whips his head and limbs all around before stopping and staring right back at me. His head is no longer bleeding “the one that got away” he says bitterly he then turns to my daughter and says in his innocent clown voice “come join the circus, lily” he then falls backwards out the window of my daughters room. I run to see where he landed, but I’m too late he’s gone. Please if you find a music box in your house one day and your parents didn’t buy it... don’t wind it up.
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ecotone99 · 5 years ago
Text
Mr. Bozo
Growing up, I was never really a kid who got scared easily. But, that all changed when Mr. Bozo let himself into my life and haunted me for years. It all started in 1987, in my 7 year old mind I didn’t sense anything wrong when I came home from school to find a music box in the middle of the my room, I figured my mum must have gotten me a new toy. There was a letter on it that said “play me” I wound it up, and it played that familiar tune that every kid became accustomed to in nursery. I sang along “round and round the merry go round the monkey chases the weasel, round and round the merry go round pop goes the weasel.” Nothing happened for a minute. Then the lid popped open, but no clown popped out like it usually does. Instead there was an image of a clown on the bottom of the lid that popped up, it had red tuffs of hair coming out on either side of its head. It’s eyeshadow was blue stars the shaped around it’s eyes, it’s lips were full and crimson in color, it’s nose was just as red. It wore a yellow jumpsuit with red and white polka dots all over. My mum called out to me “billy it’s time for dinner, come on it’s your favorite.” When I turned back to the music box, the clown in the image was gone. I shrugged it off and went downstairs for dinner. “Thanks for the new music box, mum” my mum looked puzzled, “what music box?” She asked. “My new toy music box, the one in my room” there was a moment of silence. “Maybe it was your father” she finally said. Almost as if on queue my dad walked in. “Daddy!” I yelled in excitement, “hey kiddo!” He yelled back. “How was work dad?” I inquired. “Long and insane I was thinking about you he whole time!” “Really?” I asked. “Really Really” he said as he picked me up to pull me into a hug and a prickly facial haired kiss. “Hugh, did you buy William a new music box toy?” Mummy asked. Now my dad looked puzzled “no” he said, “I haven’t been able to buy anything lately, Andrea has been cutting everyone’s checks down to fix equipment at work.” He explained. My mum sighed “again that’s the third time they’ve been cutting your pay”. “Sarah look I know things seem bad, but once everything is fixed I’ll be getting a raise, Andrea even said so.” My mum paused then said “okay, okay” my dad continued “I promise things will turn around. We’ll get back up on payments and w’ell be able to buy whatever we need, plates pots pans anything and everything we need.” “Even new toys?” I squeak with excitement. “Yes even new toys, kiddo” my dad says. “Yay!” I cheer. My mum laughs, “alright its time for bed buddy” my mum says “okay, I love you mum I love you dad.” I say and I run upstairs as fast as I can and jump into my bed. I completely forgot about the music box, and passed into dream land. I was awaken by a terrible deep guttural laughter, that sounded like a cross between the joker and a hyena. I looked at my alarm clock, it read 3:15 AM, I looked around groggily and about pissed myself when I saw my closet door opening slowly. Out stepped the clown from the music box. “Hello” he said, his voice was scratchy like a smoker but also like a cartoon character come to life. “Um hi” I said. He continued. “What’s your name, child?” He asked. “William, but most of my friends call me billy” I say meekly, “hello billy, I’m Mr. Bozo, and I’m your best friend” that took me aback as I found it a little odd that a clown had just pronounced himself to be my best friend after I had just met him. “Um actually my best friend is James, from school” his smile faded a bit “why can’t you have to best friends?” He asked. “Well I guess I can have an imaginary best friend.” I said, he seemed to be pleased with that and started smiling again. “So what should we do first?” He said while rubbing his hands together. “It’s a little early for this don’t you think?” “Oh, you’re right, go back to sleep I’ll just sit here” he sat himself in my rocking chair in the corner of my room by my closet. “Don’t you need to sleep too?” I asked him “oh no, I’m fine, I’ll just watch over you” he said. I found that very unnerving, but was too tired to protest. So just ended up passing out. The next morning, Mr. Bozo was gone I chalked it up to just being a very vivid dream. I found breakfast downstairs ready for me, bacon eggs hash browns and pancakes. I ate as much as I could and got ready to walk to school, it was the middle of December, so it was a bit hard to walk with all the layers of coats my mum had put on me. Halfway through my walk Mr. Bozo’s voice came out of nowhere “I almost didn’t recognize you, what with all those coats on you.” He startled me so I jumped back a bit and ended up slipping and falling. He laughed a bit, then helped me up “clowning is what my job, buckaroo.” He told me “Mr. Bozo?” “That’s my name, don’t wear it out” he said to me. “I thought you were just a dream” I said, he frowned again, it was rather disturbing seeing him frown. “Well that hurts my feelings, bill” he said. “I’m sorry I just am really tired and didn’t expect to see you again.” “No worries” he said with an ear to ear grin. His teeth were massive. They were almost like a sharks teeth rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. “Mr. Bozo, why do you have so many teeth?” I asked him, “they’re for eating all of my delicious circus peanuts.” He said proudly. He pulled out a bag of circus peanuts and asked if I wanted some, my gut kept telling me for the love of god, don’t eat those peanuts “no thank you I have a peanut allergy” I lied to him. His face contorted into a face that said, I don’t believe you and you disappoint me at the same time. “But, I’ve seen you eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before,” in hindsight it makes me ponder just how long did Mr. Bozo watch me? “Well that’s like a peanut free peanut butter” I said to him. He looked like he was pondering that answer then he seemed to except it with an “okie-dokie” when we were about to enter the school Mr. Bozo told me, “I can’t go in with ya,” “why not?” I asked “grown ups see me differently then kids do, they see me as someone who wants to hurt children, a monster.” He started sobbing “poor, poor Mr. Bozo...” He whaled. “Hey, it’s okay Mr. Bozo. You’re not a monster.” “Really?” He sniffled. “Really really, in fact you’re my best friend!” I said, I was just trying to get him to stop crying. “Okay... I’ll see you at home billy” he smiled that same toothy grin, and walked away. When I got home 6 hours later, he was waiting for me in my room. “Want to play a game?” Mr. bozo asked, “sure, what game?” I said. “Hide and seek!” He boomed. “Okay should I start counting?” I asked him “yes you start counting and I’ll hide.” He said with glee. “1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10 ready or not here I come!” I yelled over my shoulder I saw his feet poking out as he hid behind the curtains of my bedroom window. I pulled them back and yelled, “found ya!” He smiled and laughed “nobody has ever found me before” he giggled. “Your turn to hide” he said. Then he began to count, “1... 2... 3... 4... 5....” I hid in my bedroom closet and had to stop my laughter from escaping my lips. I heard him continue counting “6.... 7.... 8... 9.... 10 ready or not here I come!” I saw through the crack in my closet door that he spat a little. He looked around a bit, under my bed behind the curtain in my toy box before he said ”you’re really good at this game” I let out a little squeak of a giggle. He turned to the closet door “there you are!” He said he made his way to the door and opened it he looked down at me and smiled. “You found me!” I yelled in excitement, he was drooling profusely. A warm puddle of spit was all over the floor. “Mr. Bozo, why are you drooling so much?” I asked, “oh, it’s these dang teeth o’ mine! I just get so drooly” his smile faded and he just stared at me for a minute. Still drooling. My dads voice came from downstairs, “billy it’s time for dinner” “I’ll be right down” I yelled back “come one Mr. Bozo” “you go ahead” he said. I left the room, and went down the hallway. I could feel Mr. Bozo’s stare burning through the back of my head the whole time. At dinner my dad asked the usual questions a father does, how was school? What did you do today? I told him that I made a friend and that him and I have been having A lot of fun together. “Oh? And what’s this friends name?” “Mr. Bozo!” I said matter of factly. “What an odd name” my mother said. “He’s a clown who lives in my closet” I said “oh, an imaginary friend” said my dad. “Well you tell Mr. Bozo that he is welcome to join us for dinner any time he wants.” Said my mum, we laughed and joked for a long while after dinner. Until around 10:30 “alright off to bed kiddo” my dad says, “okay goodnight mum, goodnight dad, I love you.” “We love you too kiddo” my dad says, with that I run up the stairs and into my room where Mr. Bozo waits. “How was dinner?” He asks “it was okay” I answer “let’s play a game again” he says “I can’t tonight, it’s late maybe in the morning before school.” “Oh okay...” he trails off and is again drooling, a lot. “Well I’m off to bed Mr. Bozo, goodnight” “goodnight, I’ll watch over you again” I got the chills with the thought that he’d be watching me as a slept again. “Um okay Mr. Bozo you do that, I guess.” I couldn’t sleep for a good portion of the night, I think Mr. Bozo could sense I was awake because he leaned over me and said in my ear, “come join the circus billy” I fell asleep after that. The next day at school was super uneventful, so I was really eager to get home and play with Mr. Bozo. Once I came through that door, my backpack was on the ground and I was bolting up the stairs. Mr. Bozo, I’m home I yelled, Mr. Bozo was nowhere to be seen, and my parents were sitting on my bed. They looked a little disappointed. “Mummy Daddy? What’s wrong?” I asked “billy what is this?” She held up a piece of paper on it was a drawing of mummy her neck was slit and on it was written “die bitch” I was shocked. “Mummy I didn’t do that” “don’t lie to me!!” My mum shrieked. “Billy why did you draw this?” My dad said with a stern face and a very strong hint of anger in his voice. “Dad I didn’t” I said I started to cry a bit, “well then who the hell did it?!?!!” My mum yelled at me. “It wasn’t me” I began balling my mum and day were furious. They took away all my toys and left the room. An hour or so later Mr. Bozo came out of the closet and tried to comfort me. “Billy, there there. You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Mr. Bozo they don’t believe me, I didn’t draw the picture.” Mr. Bozo laughed a little “I know, I did.” Silence “you?.... you what?... why did you do that?...” I cried he continued to speak “they tried to take you away from me billy. Come.... join the circus then the fun will never end” he chuckled his clown laughter. “No! I don’t want to join the circus!” I yelled at him. He looked annoyed more then anything else. “Fine” He said he then made a pouty face and summer-salted back into the closet. I went to bed. I didn’t go back to school the next day and Mr. Bozo didn’t appear at any point that afternoon or night. I only went downstairs for food and to do mandatory chores for my punishment. Dinner came we ate in silence, and I was sent to my room for the night. Before I started drifting off I could hear Mr. Bozo’s voice coming from the closet “come join the circus, billy” I finally fell asleep. That night I dreamt of Mr. Bozo, he was chasing me through a carnival sort of structure. I was crying and he was laughing. Then he caught me and would say over and over again “come join the circus” every time a thick stream of spittle would drip out of his moth and all over my face. Then I woke up, the sun was out, and it was time for school. My heart sunk when I realized my face was wet. Mr. Bozo’s laughter radiated from the closet once more. “Did you enjoy our game of tag, billy?” I sniffled “leave me alone” he just once again laughed, “if you had just played the game, it wouldn’t have come to this” I went to school, but didn’t do any of my work or talk to any of my friends. When I got home today my mum and dad were screaming and crying and holding each other. Our dog was dead it was lying on the ground motionless, it didn’t have a head. There was blood everywhere. My dad stopped me from looking. He held me closely. I knew who did this, “it was Mr. Bozo” I said, my mum erupted, “just stop it!!” My dad looked at me sadly “go to your room billy” I did as I was told. When I got to my room Mr. Bozo was waiting for me he was somehow defying the laws of gravity and was sitting on the ceiling. “I guess I got a little hungry, hey want to play a game?” He asked “please, go away... “ I said. He wasn’t happy. “Poor billy, that’s not an option. If you don’t play with me who will you play with?” He laughed “I have other friends” I told him. He smiled his sinister smile. “We’ll see!” The next morning. I was terrified to see Mr. Bozo sitting like a child in the middle of the ground. “You know if you keep this up, bad things will happen” he said. I ignored him and left for school. That day I couldn’t find my friends at lunch, I couldn’t the next day either in fact I didn’t see them for the rest of the week. My dad just happened to be watching the news when I got home one day. I remember what it said to this day “two families slaughtered in one day cops ruled it to being a homicide/suicide among the two families was four victims in total husband and wife Cheryl and nick Trenton and Zachary and Samantha summers. Two boys were also found dead in their rooms James Trenton and Lincoln summers Police found a small music box in each boys rooms similar to each.” Silent tears rolled down my face mummy and daddy tried to comfort me but I had enough. Without a word I went upstairs and laid on my bed and cried for hours. Mr. Bozo appeared “do you want to play now?” I yelled at him to go away “is that any way to talk to your best friend?” He asked I told him he wasn’t my best friend and that I hated him. laughter “one day, billy, you’ll join the circus with your good friend Mr. Bozo!” I didn’t say anything and just went to bed. That next morning I’d begin a new schedule Wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth, ignore the clown screaming at me to stop ignoring him, leave for school. And while at school Mr. Bozo would do something so awful and terrible to torment me, my mother, and my father. Years passed like that it tore my family apart. We didn’t talk to each other. We didn’t love each other. My mum and dad fought more and more. I cried every night. And every night before I passed out I heard Mr. Bozo beckoning from the closet “come join the circus, billy”. One night I woke to Mr. Bozo he was standing over my bed and was rubbing my face with something, “what the hell are you doing?” His smile became so bright when I acknowledged his presence. “I’m giving you a makeover.” He said, he then held up a small mirror. My face was like his painted like a clown. “You’re just in time for dinner” he said maliciously. His jaw unhinged like a snake and he raveled all his layers of teeth. His spittle dripping on the floor as he opened wider and wider to fit his mouth around my head. I screamed. My mum and dad came running down the hallway and burst open the door Mr. Bozo looked at my parents with anger in his eyes. My dad had his gun with him, now they knew of his presence and was just as terrified as I was. Mr. Bozo backflipped into the closet door and slammed it shut, my mum comforted me while my dad tried to open the closet door. He never got it open. He tormented us for years. Mum and dad filed for divorce. I stuck with dad and mum went back to her home town of Derry main. Then one day in mid September of 1997 it all came to a halt. For 20 years, nothing. I grew old, dad passed away, I got married and had a kid. The memory and thoughts of Mr. Bozo left my mind.
My little girl is such a sweet heart, she’s always singing, “round and round the merry go round the monkey chases the weasel, round and round the merry go round pop goes the weasel!” Every night since I heard that tune come out of her mouth iv’e been on edge. I sit outside her door at night with a baseball bat and wait patiently. Finally one night in October of 2017 I hear it. Screaming me and the wife are Up and running through that door in a heartbeat. And there he is Mr. Bozo same yellow jump suit with red and white polka dots, red hair nose lips and blue stared eyes. He looked exactly the same except he had elongated arms that come to clawed hands that rip out of his white clown gloves his mouth was unhinged and was hanging open showing all his razor sharp teeth that threatened to bite into my daughters head. Just like the night he tried the same with me. “Get the hell away from my daughter!!” I yell at him his mouth closes and he turns his attention to me his eyes glowed amber red radiating hatred for me. I swing the bat and hit him right in the face his head cracks in half and down his face drips a thick black fluid with chunks of confetti spewing all of the floor. He screams in pain and whips his head and limbs all around before stopping and staring right back at me. His head is no longer bleeding “the one that got away” he says bitterly he then turns to my daughter and says in his innocent clown voice “come join the circus, lily” he then falls backwards out the window of my daughters room. I run to see where he landed, but I’m too late he’s gone. Please if you find a music box in your house one day that you didn’t own before... don’t wind it up.
submitted by /u/_Mister_Magnificent [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/cw01fv/mr_bozo/ via Blogger https://ift.tt/2ZuTJ2b
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stannamarsh · 7 years ago
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Souvenirs From Hell
And why I need some space. A decade should suffice.
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Colette Baron Reid's free online Wisdom of the Hidden Realms cards says, to paraphrase: Careful what you wish for. You'll get it. So Santa Claus, God, Karma, Universe, parents: Thank you for my wonderful life. This is UNIVERSAL SHOPPING LIST for the future, my FIVE-YEAR- PLAN,   which is about to come up Hanna. Apparently, I am attracting what I want. This is it:
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To anyone miffed by my no- nonsense, potentially hurtful to those who are not ready to hear it (and I get it because I've been there):
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This is the difference between a messed up 24 + 25 year old and a messed up 29 year old, aka me. Knowing what you want and having the vision to get it. Knowing that your fuck-ups are your own responsibility. Knowing you're a mentally ill bitch who says harsh things, making the granary of truth harder to hear. It’s wanting desperately to be your best and highest self, and not just in the Cheech and Chong sense either.  I want to be  kind person, living a life I choose, fulfilling my potential. Due to my confusion and pain (whether conscious or not), it's a struggle. Knowing what I want isn't the issue. Acting on it is.
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As for the five years growth between 24 and 29 I never believed it was that big of a difference until I lived it. That gap, in my experience is codependency and trying to fix another person. Even when we know that change comes from within, we do this anyway! Everybody has their own journey that no amount of meddling from loved ones can divert. Not letting others walk their own journey or not being left alone to walk it is 90% of our therapists' jobs. As for shrink's, I'll muse on that when I see Amy, Dr. Robert, and Widitz. That shit’s more complicated. As far as possible we should work on ourselves. Because many, if not most partners that we try to prod and improve, and love into what we need them to be are stubborn idiots, and frankly so are we, for attempting to do this. I don't want to waste my fucking energy trying to train them to man/woman/non-binary up and be friggin grownups. Not my circus, not my monkeys, and most certainly, not my cage.
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Now for the goals:
1)  A home that is mine. Not living in a hippie garbage can or benign drug house, albeit one with a chill vibe in a nice neighborhood full of little-free-libraries,  with nice people who are doing their best so you can't really blame them. But goddammit, I want different. It scared me that this was becoming my life. Is this my scene? What about my goals? I got negative and bitchy, and eventually exploded despite your stellar hospitality.  (Half of this is my mother talking.) I'm trying to work on these things at my own place, but humans are influenced by their friends. I need to distance my self myself until my living space at Hawk's Ridge is up to my standards, I need to work on that. Yours can be whatever you want it to be. And the hypothetical me with my shit together would give zero fucks about, once I'm confident that I have  my own standards. I just can't be in a place that dogs me with my own procrastination.
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2) A solid community of friends and family who are "going places" in life, to the best of their individual ability (which does not mean under the constant influence of recreational yet legal prescriptions. I'm not judging, given my penchant for these, and the fact that I'm starting NA tonight, Legal drugs that become a grey area between therapeutic and recreational are fun, but they won't help you achieve you goals. Anxiolytics are for anxiety, or the dentist. Vicodin is for pain and don't mix either with copious amounts of alcohol. That's why you spend too much time throwing up instead of doing fun things, like a cancer patient with much nicer hair. Also, drink water, if you want to keep up with Mexicans, working in the hot sun without getting heat exhaustion at your job.  Common sense, people. I'm not saying your pain isn't real but some of it is your doing, just like some of mine is my doing. We have to hold ourselves accountable, better ourselves, drink  and smoke weed socially and responsibly on VACATION (not stupidly or ever before getting  behind the wheel.) Get with the program. People with more obstacles than solid doctors, helpful family, and a paid-off home do it every day. This was what I was keeping to myself until I said it in the wrong way while crying in your bathtub, "communicating why I was harshing your buzz with my negativity.) At the time, I had had a Klonopin, a Xanax, a Vicodin, another Xanax, another Xanax, and alcohol. I'm not a puker. I'm a cathartic, brutally honest crier, which is as bad a vomit in its own way. It smells better but takes longer to clean up. I'm sorry I hurt that sweet boy's feelings through the wall and seemed ungrateful for your hospitality when I wasn't. It's my fault for taking all those drugs, but I wasn't comfortable, something was wrong, I couldn't put my finger on it, and I repressed it with anything available to keep from being rude. It didn't work. There was truth in it, but the way I put it was mean, and unnecessary. Holding stuff in is bad for me. You said communicate. I said what I said  it in a rude way, but  parts of it are justified. And if I hadn't said it then, I would have eventually. Yes, I am grateful to people who open their homes to me, go on adventures with me, share their possessions with me. Catharsis can be cruel. You know who you are and I love you both but I can't hang around you when working towards the goals in this post, at least until I'm solidly clean and have put a dent in my 5 year plan. Whether you would even want that is up to you. I'll be busy but I still care.   Though, I expect at this point, it's tl;dr for the both of you. That's another thing. Friends are people for whom tl;dr does not exist, unless they've had a stroke or something.
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3) If there is a love mate out there for me, a soulmate if such a thing exists, I want to encounter this person on my adventures. I don't chase or look, because it depresses me and reduces love "such that it is" to consumption, or a meal ticket, a housing situation, a drug connection, a business deal, or a codependent puddle of mutual enabling. It's worse than any drug save needles, meth or crack, and all to often often, drives otherwise decent people down that road.
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4. I want to go to Boulder, CO, my own personal Mecca.  My condolences that police and a drugged hippie were mutually stupid and it resulted in tragedy. I mean the guy was strung out running naked in public. The worst child murder/ rape went down there too, but people move on and this is where i want to live. This is my goal and I'm strong enough to not let news reports stop me from achieving what I want
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5. I want my MLIS and will get it in December. When I get my debt and income under control, I want to participate in a BA to MD/PHD program because once I'm stable, and clean, I know I can buckle down, tear through that MCAT and make it happen. See, when I was messed up, I at least knew enough not to hurt myself or spend the next day vomiting.   Let's turn this sad, low-rent talent of mine into something that can help people.  Want to be: medical librarian, doctor, medical PHD (You heard me: MUD/FUDD), writer,Gonzo blogger, adventurer, world traveler, and at times, gainfully unemployed. These will all happen if I go to my meetings and follow Dr. Robert's advice: Get clean, hang out only with stable people who are tackling their goals, and  achieve  my scholarly potential, which truth be told is at least a Masters' and an M.D/PH.D to reach my intellectual potential. Not to brag, but it's somewhere between Lisa Simpson and Malcolm in the MIddle. (Meaning I'm probably a crazy genius, and if I'm retarded, John is a vegetable, organic I hope, so as compost he can me useful.) People say all the time that you're too old to start over. If someone can't do it they want to tell you that you can't too. Age is just a number. And truth be told, I'd rather die learning than being stuck in mediocrity.
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6. I want happiness, stability, freedom from drama. attachment issues, an end to  envy, that a friend or acquaintance has someone, no matter how messed up the situation. I want independence, to control my compulsive, self destructive need to help others when there's shit I have to do for myself just to prove my worth and keep them from leaving me  when I'm unnecessarily honest at them. I need to trust my vibes. If a situation feels icky or grasping or just plan dirty,  I'm out. It's been real. Thanks for having me. Time to go slay the other goals.
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7. MONEY...ENOUGH money that I have everything I want and need,within reason and accounting for storage space, a home, a housekeeper, or at least some  kind of professional organizer to help me with cleaning and beautifying my home, which is not my forte.   My wonderful parents Susan Coleman and Donald Jeff Martin are helping me follow my bliss. They are the absolute best parents. I can never do enough to properly that them for giving me life, taking a great risk to do so, for my dad taking the time to give private preschool quality education so now math and languages are easy for me, my mom who taught me about feminism, and whether she knew it or not, supercharged my innate qualities of forthrightness, justice, and the desire to fight for what's right. Thanks even more for teaching me about feminism, right from wrong, and taking care of me. I had an enriched life, despite little money. That is a miracle.  They (and my pets, and my goals) are, together MY EVERYTHING. Gratitude. Balance. Best Life. That's what I'm after. Money is the tool to reach goals, not the goal itself.
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8. Lastly, I want adventure....safe, but not so safe that it isn't fun. Exploring the world, writing, experiencing, living. This alone will keep me from getting sucked into any sexist bullshit or dysfunctional "love" vortex. When I achieve THAT, the desire to hurt myself, check out, or die will be OVER forever. I know this instinctively. That's the GP. Hell. I might become a GP. But, I'd prefer something more Housean, such as Pathology or Internal Medicine,  I am the queen of my castle. But, to paraphrase Marley, that castle is in my MIND. To paraphrase Thoreau, my castles in the sky are the shit. Now they and I need a proper FOUNDATION.
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None of this is meant to be unthoughtful dig at Jexi. I call you this because I seem to know (or perhaps knew you as a unit. Who are each of you individually?) (Also, I don't think either of you are notorious enough to be figured out by that alone, so I'm attempting discretion.) This is  just my perspective. My truth.
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Thank yous: Gino Dykstra,  Amy, the therapist, Doctor Robert Wesner, Dr Widitz, Dr. Don St. John, and Linda the P.C, and all the people from Partial Hospitalization and STEPPS. If I forget someone, add yourself. Oh, Lori Parrish Niemi, Christina Morris Penn-Goetsch,  William Niemi, Jexi, for helping me gain this insight, and back in the day, Keith E Gatling.
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Weirdly, I am also grateful for that squirrelly, two-faced bastard, John Trachsel, who made himself useful for the first time ever, by convincing me to abandon my impulsive suicide gesture, even if he did go from treating me like a "person"/ possible lay to taking a step back, changing his tune, when he realized it was me. I'm not one for another addict and messed up person to be seen with. Bullshit, but not my circus, not my monkeys, not my shit and shame filled monkey cage.  Yes, all of us "crazy, "retarded" women that you "don't want people to know you talk to" (despite the fact that most people have  no problem acting like a god-damn human toward me) may sometimes do good things that I good, though I think you would have hung or not called me if you for one second believed that I, Hanna Martin was distraught, suicidal, and in need of help. My point is thateven though you badly need therapy and other help, you are not completely useless. There may still be inpatient help for you and I no longer wish you dead.)
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Thanks to all who have helped. One day at a time. I spent the whole damn day on this.
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