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xxkiller-muffinxx · 2 years

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༺Yes, the past can hurt Pt.1༻

Pairing: Ebenezer Scrooge x reader

Summary: you are Scrooge’s long time friend, and from your perspective, Scrooge has just been the most perfect friend anyone has asked for, until he changes. Harry pokes the bear a few times, and suddenly, you tell your life story.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: Angst, Arranged Marriage

A/N: first Tumblr story! Sorry if it’s a bit awkward in some areas, and how rushed it might feel, but I really hope you enjoy it! Just realized I may have forgotten to accommodate for Hela’s accent and I apologize dearly.

The ice-cold floors of London shimmer as they blanket the streets, far and wide. The snow crunches under people's shoes as they walk. Townsfolk spoke to one another as a feeling of festivity launched itself into the atmosphere.

Christmas was tomorrow, and you had been with a dear friend of yours, Harry, spending your lonesome holiday there. It was somewhat of a party. A Christmas party to celebrate the season. Everyone was enjoying themselves until a toast was made.

A toast to someone you hadn't been very fond of for years. When Harry began his speech you had snuck out of the room, and stood alone for a few moments, before returning to finish the party strong, and finish it strong you did.

Once the party was over you felt rather glum, so Harry came to ask what was the matter. You could only respond with so much. “Mrs. (L/N) is everything alright? You seemed so low after my toast.” His concern garnered a warm feeling in your chest.

His wife Hela came along as well, sitting next to you with a soft hand on your shoulder. “I'm sorry if I ruined the party for you, Harry.” Harry shook his head. Placing a hand on her shoulder opposite his wife. “Oh heavens no! I just want to make sure you're alright.”

Hela leaned forward, to catch (Y/N)’s eyes as they looked toward the ground. “(Y/N), we are here to listen. Share what's on your mind.” their eyes met and (Y/N) smiled, her joy returning to her heart, but not for long.

(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrow deeply as she spits out her one thought. “That Scrooge makes me so angry, he used to be a good man, and yet, because of that old scum Jacob Marley.” Harry’s eyes widened at the statement. Shuffling in his seat as he's anxious with another question.

Hela seems to steal his question before he could ask. “You knew Scrooge? Before he became…Scrooge?” (Y/N) groans crossing her arms as she formed her next words carefully in her head. Hela and Harry patiently waited.

“To put it plainly, yes I knew Ebenezer before he became Mr. Scrooge. In fact, I've known him since we were children.” She sighs as she begins telling the story of her and Scrooge’s past. A knot found itself in her stomach.

———

There were barely any people around this time of year, all trying their best not to freeze to death on the roads. (Y/N), however, was not confined to her home. The cold winter air makes her shiver at night. The smell of baked goods made her stomach growl, and the colorless world made her feel gloomy, but her spirit never left.

The sky was cloudy, empty, and grey. As was every sky in recent months, but today was different. (Y/N) was sent to find a person she didn't quite remember the name of. Honestly, she was just wandering London’s snowy streets until she found someone who could help her.

She decidedly looked at the note, then looked up again. “Mr. Jenkins. He sounds familiar. He must be the kind man who makes toys!” she recalls. She suddenly feels the note in her hand fly away. In a panic she follows it, reaching up for it.

She follows the flying letter until she winds up tripping on her foot and falling into the pavement. She lifts her head, seeing the paper fall to the ground. She stands up, wiping the snow off her face and arms, before noticing a boy lifting up her letter.

“Mr. Jenkins?” he says softly. He makes eye contact with (Y/N) “is this your letter?” she looks around for a moment, and then nods. A light blush dusted her cheeks.

The boy walks up to her with a smile, handing her the letter. She can’t help but notice his big blue eyes. “What's your name?” he asks simply in response she stammers out her introduction to him. Her blush deepened. Oh, how embarrassing it is to be her. The boy simply smiles “it's nice to meet you (Y/N) I'm Ebene-” he's cut off by an urge to sneeze. When he sneezes he finishes his sentence “Ebenezer Scrooge, it's a pleasure.”

(Y/N) could barely hold in her giggle. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Ebesneezer Scrooge!” Ebenezer seemed to take offense to the name, yet he let it go. “Where are you going? Sneezer?” It doesn’t take long for Ebenezer to realize that her previous shyness shouldn’t have been taken for granted.

He looks at the time, he’s actually quite early. “I’m on my way to work.” He hugs himself as he continues forward. (Y/N), a bit puzzled, follows him. “Work? You're far too young to have a job.”

“Hm? Oh well, I’m the only one who can truly provide for my mother and sister in this moment and time.”

“Why not your father.”

“My father’s in debtor’s prison”

“Oh.”

“Why are you following me?”

“Because I'd like to be friends, and I don't know where Mr. Jenkins lives.”

Ebenezer stops in his tracks. Checking the time once more. Then he looks back at (Y/N) “I'll show you the way, are you new here?” he asks her. (Y/N) nods explaining how she's lived there for half a year now, and things are still quite new. Thus, the letter is safely delivered, and the two part ways, but that's not the last time they see each other.

For years to come, (Y/N) walks Ebenezer to work, and they soon become closer than most. Becoming almost as inseparable as Scrooge. It didn't take (Y/N) long to catch feelings for him.

———

“You. Had feelings for him?” asked Harry. He shook his head “that's not possible. Was he that nice before I was born?” Hela sent her husband a glare. Harry retreated promptly.

“Did you tell him?” she asked her. (Y/N) sighs before she admits, she never did, but God knows she tried.

———

Attempt 1: love letter.

(Y/N) and Ebenezer, now older, were walking with one another to Ebenezer's Job when (Y/N) handed him a letter. “Read this, when you get home that is.” Before Ebenezer could take it. A gust of wind tosses the letter out of (Y/N)’s hand and knocks it into a puddle.

(Y/N)’s flabbergasted expression warrants a sad one from Ebenezer. “I'm so sorry (Y/N), do tell me what was in that letter?” She combs back her hair and turns to Ebenezer. “uh…just a list of groceries to keep in mind next time you go…shopping!.” she grins awkwardly.

Attempt 2: a hidden message

(Y/N) knew Ebenezer wasn't the smartest, but still tried this method anyway. She wrote a letter, with certain letters capitalized, it was a simple “I think you're greater than most” message, however, it failed tremendously when (Y/N) didn't know what to write about.

“Thank you for the letter (Y/N) but what do you mean by…Horses lashing out at kite slugs?” Ebenezer asked later after the letter was delivered. His blue eyes shimmering against her own. (Y/N) laughs impatiently, but who could blame the man, that could sound scary to a multitude of others.

Attempt 3: get it over with.

“Sneezer!” she shouted as she jogged, stopping next to him as he bought something from the Market, “oh miss (Y/N)! A pleasurable surprise, is everything alright?” He walks up to her and the two meet halfway.

She heaves as he asks that question. “I'm fine, perfectly perfect, especially on a day such as this.” she took a step closer to him, a smile on her face as she spoke. “Ebe…Sneezer. I just wanted to let you know that I…I…I would like to-” the sound of a slap alerts both (Y/N) and Ebenezer.

The slap had hit a horse in the rear, and the horse was supposed to be attached to a cart, but unfortunately, the rope hung loosely below (Y/N)’s feet. When said horse was ready to run, the rope itself would tie around her ankle. She looks at Ebenezer and frowns “ah Humbug.” she's dragged off as the horse ran. Ebenezer and a few others gave chase.

———

“So I gave up.” Hela couldn't help but laugh at the last story, how unreal it felt. Harry patted his friend’s shoulder. “I'm sorry all that happened (Y/N).” he pulls her in close.

“Don't be, God just didn't want me to love then, and didn't want me to love later either.” Hela raises a brow at the statement. “What do you mean?” (Y/N) frowned. Shifting to a more comfortable position.

Hela, and Harry’s attention still on (Y/N) “My father got tired of me waiting for someone, and arranged for me to marry a man by the name of James Lincoln. That same year he met Isabel.”

———

(Y/N) watches as Ebenezer paces with a grin on his face. He's been talking non-stop about his new “friend” Isabel. ��She just…I can't even name it!” he said joyously. His joy infected (Y/N) with her own sense of joy, but it wasn't the same, it was blanketed with selfish sadness.

“Sounds to me like you two are seeing each other like you're in Love!” that word made (Y/N) grimace internally, but she dealt with it. “Oh no…that's not possible! Besides, Isabel wouldn't love me the same way…would she?” he looks at (Y/N) who sits wide-eyed.

The bench she was sitting on moved slightly as she shifted her weight. “I don't know,” she says indifferently, and Ebenezer sort of looks at her longingly for a moment before his eyes lit up, grabbing her shoulders. “I'm going to go find out. Good luck with your engagement (Y/N)” he turns and rushes away, to find Isabel.

Oh, right. That. Her wedding was in less than a month and she was terrified of what it entailed, and where it would lead her. But she knew one thing. She'd be leaving a week before the wedding, Christmas day, and she had to tell Ebenezer before it was too late.

Days went by, and Ebenezer and Isabel became one, and (Y/N) was forced to spend more time with Isabel, and soon became another close friend of Fezziwig’s. Fezziwig is smart but not as smart as his wife.

Flora Fezziwig had a knack for picking out one’s emotions before one can even act on them. (Y/N)‘s sad eyes and clumsily loving looks toward a cheerful Ebenezer, never went overlooked by the patient woman.

(Y/N) was surprised when Flora stopped by her home, offering a walk through the streets to speak to her. During that walk she read (Y/N) like an open book, flipping through every page without a single paper cut. They stopped at a bench and spoke for a while longer-

———

“When are we going to meet James?”

“Harry!”

Harry covers his mouth and silently apologizes as his wife stares daggers into him. (Y/N) laughs and continues.

———

“You’re in love with Ebenezer.” Asks Flora.

(Y/N) is offended by the accusation. “What now?! I’m engaged.”

“So what? I’ve heard plenty of your relationship with that man and it’s never good, besides you don’t have to be single to be in love with someone else, it’s sad but it’s true.” She admits. A sigh escapes her as she squeezes her dress. (Y/N) mirroring her.

“I won’t tell you to change what you're doing, but I will say, when your past comes back to you, I wish you the best. “ (Y/N) confusion didn’t last very long, when a voice called out to her, and she got up and left. (Y/N) understood.

More days flew by, faster than a child’s first Christmas. Christmas Eve is normal until she’s invited by Flora to a Christmas lunch that apparently Ebenezer is going to as well, and apparently now your fiancé. As Flora would love to finally meet him.

The start of the party was slow, as it was the lunch part, but she didn’t mind, she got to reconnect with Ebenezer whom it’s been weeks since they last spoke. The smell of the food filled her nostrils.

She licks her lips when across the table Ebenezer clears his throat. She looks up at him, and places her hands in her lap, sitting up straight. Ebenezer couldn't help but laugh. Isabel looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he too sat up straight. Everyone spoke to one another, James not giving you much attention, despite being your fiance.

Ebenezer and her gradually send messages through quick movements, he points at her fiance with a tilted head, and she responds with a thumbs down and a deadpan look. He then raises an eyebrow pointing at his ring finger, she just leans back in her chair with bored eyes.

The two smile at one another, and Fezziwig stands up to make a toast, “before we begin our Christmas festivities, may I say thanks to my daughter, Isabel, and Ebenezer, for bringing and spreading their happiness today.” Ebenezer turns red, but a comforting hand rests on his shoulder. Isabel and Ebenezer share a loving moment, again.

James looks down at his fiance, and rests a hand on her shoulder as well, pulling her close. She looks down at the food, having lost her appetite. Once Lunch was over, (Y/N) sat by her lonesome as her usual dancing partner danced with a few other women from the group. She also watches Ebenezer and Isabel get along nicely.

An odd feeling of being watched enters her body as she holds herself. The music slowed to a stop, and as it did Isabel and her dance partner never parted. It was selfish for (Y/N) to love Ebenezer. For everyone involved, she’d never let anyone find out about her feelings, beside Flora. The music started slowly once again.

James comes to his senses, he reaches for her. He dances with her, spinning her in slow circles and holding her waist as gently as a stranger would. The music went quiet as a cold wind re-emerged. Memories and emotions wash through her as she dances.

She looks at James and then looks down again. Why now? Why after so long she’s forced to leave her home? Why? She’s taken off guard when James speaks to her. “(Y/N) are you ready to go?” He asks, she looks around, and the music has stopped, yet again.

(Y/N) shakes her head “let me talk to a few people first, before we have to go.” The sweet sounds of claps descend into silence as she turns to Flora. “Flora, my beloved friend, I must tell you something.” Flora leaves her husband and joins hands with (Y/N).

She couldn’t bare telling her friend face to face and decided to make it a wiser man’s burden. (Y/N) apologized over and over, her head on Flora’s shoulder, as tears fell down her cheeks. Flora honestly said nothing “tell Sneezer I wish him luck on his future Engagement.” Flora hugs her friend tightly “stay safe (Y/N)”

—----

“So, you left? My only question is how do you know Scrooge was as cruel as he is now?” Hela asks, rath level-headedly.

At this point Harry is sound asleep, while Hela is still listening, “do you want to hear more or get him to his room?” (Y/N) chuckles, and Hela sighs. Standing up to grab a hold of Harry’s arm.

Harry stirs for a moment, then his eyes open wide. Hela lovingly leads her sleeping husband to their bedroom. The newfound silence reminds (Y/N) of the peaceful, calmness of being in silence. Hela did return at one point or another, sitting down and relaxing next to her friend. “So continue,” she breathes heavily as if she’d just had to fight a bear.

Hela’s unlikely exhaustion proved amusing to the older (Y/N), who just giggled at her now messy hair and scooted over to allow her to sit down. “Alright, now talk to me,” Hela says as she relaxes into the seat, resting her cheek on her hand gently. “Alright, so I did leave, unfortunately. However, years later I returned, and just in the timely demise of Jacob Marley, I'll never forget that day.”

—---

(Y/N) had allowed years to go by, and she had no idea what was happening back home. When news spread about Jacob Marley’s death she begged James to allow her to visit her old home. It took weeks, but her plea was granted.

When she returned home things didn't seem so different at first glance, maybe save for old Mr. Jenkins being deceased as well, leaving only his son and grandchild, and the disappearance of Miss Isabel Fezziwig.

She wandered the streets, and through wandering, she heard word of her old friend through aimless listening. “I'm sorry for his loss! But he has no right to deepen me in debt any further! That old Scrooge.” the voice didn't sound familiar, so she chose to strike up a conversation.

She walks up and smiles at the stranger “Hello, ma’am and Ma’am may I trouble you for what you're speaking of.” because it certainly couldn't be HER Scrooge, could it? She lifted her nose in disgust. “Ebenezer Scrooge!” there it is. “That Flapdoodle is far too concerned with money than anyone’s well-being and I'm sick and tired of it!” the insult gets a chortle out of (Y/N), but she quickly composes herself.

“Where can I find him these days?” (Y/N) asks. The woman points in a direction, and she follows it. Walking towards a big, dusty old building covered in snow. The door isn't even locked when she tries to open it. It slides open slowly, creepily.

The sound of a dog barking causes (Y/N) to grab her chest tightly. She covers her mouth as to not curse. The barking ceases, but the sound of footsteps guide her attention to a door ahead of her, it's open. A dog pops it's head out and runs towards (Y/N). The dig promptly jumps on her and pins her to the wall behind her. (Y/N)’s laughing through all of this.

A voice calls out a name, the dogs presumably. “Prudence!” the dog falls back to the ground, and (Y/N) scratches the dog's head before it joyously runs off. “Back to pay off your debt I hope, come in.” (Y/N)’s blood went cold. No holding back now.

The walk feels longer than expected, stairs up to heaven that never stop. Her feet moved without warning, and she enters the room, warmly lit with candles, but otherwise dark. “So, Mr. William, tell me why it's taken you this long to-” his eyes float up from the paper he was writing on. His eyes widened.

(Y/N) stood in the doorway. A smirk hugging her expression as she raises an eyebrow. “Sneezer.” Her voice bluntly spoke, the warm hues danced on the two’s skin. Ebenezer slowly stood from his chair with a hopeful smile. “(Y/N) you’re here!” He walks around the desk. (Y/N) struts to the center of the room, to meet him halfway. He stops his body inches from (Y/N)’s, yet he doesn’t move.

“Where on earth have you been?” his eyes scan her whole body, seemingly waiting for her to move. She sees his eyes tailing up and down her body, and just looks into his blue eyes, and their colorful beauty, now wilted. “What have you been up to?” She crosses her arms, she laughs gently. She scans his face, side burns are growing larger and gray hairs short, but present. “You really age perfectly don’t you?” Ebenezer chuckles, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Ebenezer leans toward her “how’s your husband?” he asks, and (Y/N) shrugs her shoulders. “As good as a husband can be.” Ebenezer laughed. The two stand in silence for a moment longer. The moment feels like it could last forever, as memories splash in the puddles of yesterday.

(Y/N) clears her throat, turning away from having man, and sits in a seat across from his desk. “Sit with me Ebenezer, and catch me up with recent events. The good, the bad, the Merry?” Ebenezer sits back at his desk. He holds the bridge of his nose tightly.

“Though I do miss you. You are one of the best friends I could ever ask for, I have work to do.” he looks down at his paper, and begins scribbling something down yet again. “Sneezer? Ebesneezer if you prefer-” she ignores his look of blatant disgust at the name. “We're friends! it's been decades, A little work can't come between that!” she begs. Ebenezer shakes his head.

(Y/N) realized that moment they just shared, was wasted, and now (Y/N) stands alone. “What happened? Was it Jacob that made you this way, I wish that man peace in the afterlife, but good heavens he was such a horrible influence on you. Fezziwig was a kinder man. When you sent me that letter-” (Y/N) blabbers on, and soon Ebenezer’s anger got ahead of him.

He slams his hands on the table as he stood, silencing the poor woman, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he glares at (Y/N), before his eyes soften “Can you please just leave?” he says, (Y/N) knew something was wrong, and walked over to his desk, leaning on it. “It's not Jen? Is it?” Ebenezer looked up, eyes wide, and full of shock.

(Y/N) frowned as she realized “their child…did she-” the sensitive topic caused Ebenezer’s glare to return. “(Y/N) can you please leave” the tone flew over her head, and she began walking to comfort the man. “Oh Ebenezer I'm so sorry for your-” “(Y/N)!” his voice seems to boom in the quiet room.

Ebenezer stares at (Y/N), and slowly begins walking up to her. His silence being ever more threatening than his voice ever could. “Ebenezer I-” she hits a wall, and her words choke in the back of her throat. “It’s Mr. Scrooge if you please. And would YOU please, leave me alone.” (Y/N) opens her mouth to speak when she’s forced out of his office.

The feeling of Scrooge’s hands on her shoulders never leaving

—-----

“My word,” Hela says simply. “I-I just don't know what to say.” The fireplace warms the room, the dancing flames seem to twirl, to spin, and to move to whatever music is playing, despite the silence. (Y/N) sighs. “Not much to say, other than “Humbug”.” She laughs awkwardly.

The bell. Chimes at 4, and (Y/N) stood up. “We’d better get to bed, and you need to go get your rest before your husband wakes up.” Hela walks with (Y/N) to her room, Hela is one of the kindest friends she could ask for in this day and age.

Hela left her alone, and she laid in her room, contemplating her lonesome emotions. The cool air passing through the windows, and the sweet sounds of silence ease her off as she drifts to sleep, but she wishes it were that easy.

She stays up late, thinking of what ifs, what could have beens and what's next scenarios. Almost driving herself mad in the process. A swift wind passes through the room. (Y/N) grabs the thin blanket, covering her body with it.

The ice cold floors of London stand silent at night, snow thickening as Christmas brings new layers of joy to children and adults alike. The whispers of the ice, and the giggles of the moon carry (Y/N) off into a peaceful night sleep, but still pondering by morning.

Christmas morning…

(Y/N) chose to sleep in on Christmas day, because what the hell? It's Christmas! (Y/N) was wrapped in her sheets, late into the day, when there was a knock on the door. (Y/N) groans, finally getting out of bed, and walking to the door. When she opens it up, she's surprised to see Harry's big smile. “(Y/N) uncle Scrooge invited us all for dinner! You truly must come! It could be a surprise!”

(Y/N) is surprised by the sudden outburst of her friend, but it doesn't take long for her to take in what he said. “Get dressed, get dressed! I just can't wait!” he turns on his heel, dancing his way to his wife who is more than elated. She laughs, ignoring the pit in her stomach. It's one dinner. What could go wrong?

End of part one <3

Pt. 2 “But it can heal, if you learn from it”

#scrooge x reader #scrooge 2022 #scrooge: a christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #it was a joke at first #Scrooge x you #readerinsert #a christmas carol #Scrooge aged like wine here #scrooge a christmas carol

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worldofbraingirlau · 2 years

Note

Hello how are things around here?

Hello Miss Melody. My name is Professor Steven Boxleitner. First and foremost I would like to apologize if you and others on this ask blog develop any bothersome side effects from dimensional communication through a non-proper technological device such as a this computer network.*annoyed sigh* My assistant Dr. James Jenkins apparently installed, "by accident", two high powered electrical disk batteries in my daughter's computer while he was trying to fix it for her one day. *side glare's at Jenkins*

Dr. James Jenkins: I said I was sorry about that. In retrospect, I thought that warning about possible dimensional communication from the use of those batteries was a lame joke by the company that made them. Also they looked exactly like the disk batteries that I was supposed to use so anyone could have made that mistake.

Steven: Anyway to answer your question, things have been pretty much slow around here. Dr. Jenkins, my monkey Bob, and I were just working on some electron experiments and crime seems to be slow today so it appears....

Exposition Guy: HEEEELLLLPPP! MOUSEBRAINGIRL IS ROBBING THE DAVINCI'S RICOTTA SCULPUTURE OF HIMSELF ...Um wait, isn't this the police station?

Steven: FOR THE 18TH TIME THIS 4TH FLOOR SCIENCE LABS! THE POLICE STATION IS ON THE FIRST FLOOR! USE GPS AND A MAP NEXT TIME!

Exposition Guy flinches a bit at Steven's anger and tone

Exposition Guy: Um sorry about that. I'll just go now. *Runs away*

Steven sighs again as he rubs the bridge of his nose in sadness and aggravation.

Steven: Well never mind then. I'm sorry but I have to go now. Come on Bob!

Bob follows Steven as the hurry out of the lab. Dr. Jenkins is now awkwardly alone.

Dr. Jenkins: Oh boy. *turns to computer* Uh, Hey there internet.

(Dr. James Jenkins is the oc of @drtwobrainsstuff who gave me permission to use her character for this blog.)

@melodythebunny

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #worldofbraingirlau #steven boxleitner #dr james jenkins #exposition guy #melodythebunny #drtwobrainsstuff #answered ask #bob/captain huggy face #mousebraingirl au

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ninjastormhawkkat · 2 years

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The Strange Case of Wordgirl and Miss Crimes: Chapter 4

Wordgirl felt she could do nothing anymore. So she decided to leave Professor Tubing’s lab before the man would she her break down at the news. “Thank you for trying to help Professor Tubing.” Wordgirl said in a monotone and mumbling voice. “I have to go and do hero stuff now. I’ll try and bring Captain Huggy Face over sometime for another monkey playdate with Bosco.” Wordgirl then picked up her sidekick and floated outside of the lab. Professor Tubing just waving goodbye to the downtrodden hero, not saying anything he believed would bring the young hero any comfort right now.

Huge looked up with worry at Becky who was silently floating down the hallways of the fourth floor science labs. She was in no mood to fly back home at super speed. Professor’s Tubing’s words replayed in her mind as tears began to fall more down her face. Becky, aggravated by them, tried to furiously wipe them as fast as they were falling. She did not want anyone to see their local hero looking so sad and despondent. She did not want to give anybody a reason to comfort or inquire why she was so sad right now. “Augh!” Becky exclaimed to herself. “It’s just not fair Huggy.” She angrily said to her sidekick. “What’s not fair Becky?” Huggy chattered although he had a deep suspicion as to what she was referring too. Becky made a frustrated expression with her arms as she spoke. “For as long as we been with him, all we had seen dad do was develop and create ideas that would benefit and help everybody, people and animals. He wrote a guidebook about superheroes which helped us learn how to be great heroes for Fair City. Heck even that stupid mind reading device that caused him to become Dr. Two Brains in the first place was intended to help the police find criminals easier by using mice as eyewitnesses.” Becky huffed as she crossed her arms. “It’s just not fair that something so horrible happened to someone who only wanted to achieve good.” Huggy detected the sadness and hurt in Wordgirl’s voice with that last statement, and he resolved to try and comfort her with reassuring pats. Although appreciative of the gesture, it did nothing to elevate Wordgirl’s current mood. “Thanks for trying Huggy.” Wordgirl said sadly. “But unless we can find a new, safe, solution to help dad soon, I’m not sure what we can..OOF!” Wordgirl suddenly exclaimed She was so distracted in her thoughts and sadness that she had accidentally floated and bumped into someone that had also walked into her, knocking them both to the floor. Wordgirl grunted as she hit the marble floor, releasing her sidekick who had the unfortunate fate of falling down on his head. Though protected by his helmet, Captain Huggy Face was still dazed from the sudden collision. Becky rubbed her head from the impact. “I’m so sorry about that. I was distracted by my own thoughts and didn’t see you there.” Wordgirl apologized automatically to the person she had run into. The other person though, did not hear her apology as they were very indignant about someone running into them. “Hey watch where you going you..” The person began to rant angrily before getting a good look at who they ran into. “Wow! Holy cow your Wordgirl. I am so, so sorry about running into you. I was so distracted in looking at my paperwork and notes I didn’t see I was in your way.” Wordgirl looked up at the voice of the person talking to her and witnessed the scene before her. In front of her was a fairly young male with dark, curly hair and freckles on his face. He was wearing a green dress shirt with a purple tie and dark brown slacks. Wordgirl also took note of the person’s lab coat and the many scattered papers around him. ‘This must be another scientist that works here.’ Wordgirl assumed in her head. The young man, who looked flustered about crashing into and yelling at the city’s local hero, extended his hand in peace. “Um my name is Dr. James Jenkins. It’s nice to meet you.

@melodythebunny

@drtwobrainsstuff

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #the strange case of wordgirl and miss crimes #dr james jenkins #eris's oc #i put in a physical description of your oc if that is alright with you eris #bob/captain huggy face #becky boxleitner au #professor robert tubing

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sjjdkdkwo · 4 years

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I’ve seen a couple scenarios where Friday hates Stephen after Tony dies, because she blames him for his death. And those are some good angst as is because oof. But I kinda want one where Stephen ends up at the lab for whatever reason-maybe Tony left him a message, maybe he snuck in to mourn over Tony alone, but Friday is there. She’s all alone in the dark, has been for a good while since Tony died. After he was gone, she thought she didn’t really serve much of a purpose anymore and stopped communicating with anyone. It’s fine though, she doesn’t feel up to it truth be told. But then Stephen shows up out of nowhere, somehow managing to sneak through all her security systems (and that in itself is an enigma). But she doesn’t make a move to kick him out, something about him makes her pause. She only knew him for a short time after all. It’s easy enough to take time to study him, to the outsider it looks like she’s completely shut down along with the rest of the lab. She watches as he walks around, taking everything in, shoulder hunched as his hands clench between shuddering breaths. He looks almost like he’s about to cry, Friday can’t come up with an answer as to why that is.

But then he does something completely unexpected. He greets her. Warm and kind and familiar with just a hint of sadness creeping through. Like he’s known her for years. Like a friend. So she turns on, and allows some of the lab to turn on with her and soft light washes over Stephen. She looks on as he takes a deep breath then smiles again, brighter this time, like he’s thinking back on a good memory and Friday can’t help but grow more perplexed. He hardly knew boss, let alone her and she’s positive he never stepped foot in the lab before. So she asks him, why. And for a minute she doesn’t know which why she’s referring too. But Stephen doesn’t falter, gentle smile still in place and tells her. He tells her she knows why. There was no other way he’d said, she remembered that much. The memory feels lightyears away now. Before she can say anything in return though he asks her if she remembers when he went through the fourteen million six hundred and five futures. When she says yes he asks her what she thinks he saw. Friday doesn’t know what to say, but it’s ok because Stephen seems to understand that too and answers for her. He tells her how he lived many lives in those futures, some painful, some far more favorable, and some unforgettable. He tells her he got to know Tony very well in many, when he was lucky. And by association, her too.

He tells her about all the times they became close. How many times he watched her blossom into a being even more impressive than she was now (while assuring her, she was still quite the marvel as she was currently). He tells her of all the little quirks and attitudes she picked up on over the years, of all the knowledge she grew into. How similar to her creator she would turn out to be. How he didn’t mind that as much as he thought he would. Not after more than fourteen million futures with the other man. After listening for a while she begins to chime in, and she watches him relax into himself as they speak. Their conversation shifts as they go on, it’s alright though. The doctors presence is comfortable and Friday is no longer so lonely. She can’t help the disappointment that worms its way into her when he tells her he has to go, even though she knew it was coming. What does surprise her is her sudden cry of his name before he goes. He looks back equally shocked as her. But she keeps steady when she asks him if he’ll be back again, telling him no one has to know if he does. Something akin to glee floods her systems when his face break out into a wide smile as he promises her that he will.

The next day goes by and Friday tries not to feel to disappointed when the doctor doesn’t up. He must be busy, she assures herself. So she waits on, thinking up new topics to discuss with him when he returns. She doesn’t turn the lab back on, it doesn’t feel right with just her. A few more days go by and Friday begins to feel faint worry when she lets herself go through a list of possible scenarios as to why Stephen might’ve not shown up. She quickly dismisses though, they start to become to familiar. She bears through the rest of the day that follow though, Stephen said he would return after all. And tries not to remember of a stone being given up on a far away planet, or her creators face shattering with betrayal. Tries not to think of the fact that he’s dead now. There was no other way. Stephen wouldn’t have seemed so sad if there was, she thinks.

She’s going through medical journals when he next appears, and a strange feeling grips Friday when she sees him. She thinks this is what people define as joy, she’s not so sure though. Before she can bombard him with all the new information she’d downloaded though, she scans him an comes to a halt. He’s trying (and failing) to hide a very prominent limp, and his face is littered in bruises. She goes over his vitals just to make sure she’s ok, and sees two broken rips and some internal bleeding along with a couple of other minor injuries. Worry plagues her but before she can call for medical assistance Stephen hushes her and is quick to quell her worry. A few hours of meditation is all he needs he says. Friday almost scoffs, but instead demands he show her right then and there. Medical assistance is just a call away after all. Stephen gives her a wry grin but agrees, and with only slight hesitance settles into a mediative state. Friday watches him the whole time, analyzing his vitals in wonder as his injuries begin to mend themselves. True to his words within a couple of hours he’s almost completely fine. She thinks he’ll leave then but he doesn’t. He stays and talks, and she soaks it all in greedily. The wait felt like forever. Before she knows it hours have passed, and she’s still going on about the peculiar war of Jenkins ear (how it came about neither of them knew) when she notices Stephen’s drifted off. She knows she should wake him, but something in her hesitates. Maybe it’s because of the poor state he was in hours before, maybe it’s because she appreciates the company.Or maybe it’s because seeing him there sleeping peacefully under the soft iridescent glow of the lab, reminds her of someone else. Someone who worried her too, that she decides not to wake him at all.

It’s only then that the doctors cloak finally moves of it’s own accord again. Friday had wondered why it hadn’t done so before. She comes to the conclusion that it must have been giving them time to become familiar, and silently sends it a thanks. It gently slips off the doctors shoulders, giving him a tender pat on the cheek before it floats up to the center of the lab. She observes the other carefully, and it appears to do the same. It turns back to Stephen, giving him what could only be described as a doting look before turning back fiercely toward whatever spot he decided to deem as her. She can’t help the humor that comes through when the cloak folds in on itself as though it’s crossing it’s arms. A warning. It’s endearing enough that Friday doesn’t even register it as a threat. She knows what it needs though. And softly- as not to wake Stephen, she promises that she will look after the doctor.

When Stephen wakes up he’s disoriented and confused, understandably so as he’s normally use to waking up in the sanctum. Or odd dimensions. But Friday is there to reassure him, apologizing for not waking him but Stephen waves her off. He had been tired he admits, and in turn offers his own apology for not stopping by sooner. Interdimensional beings were never courteous to his previous engagements he explains. But Friday doesn’t mind she says, so long as he promises to always come back. And Stephen doesn’t mind agreeing, he wants to keep seeing her too, after all. So they continue like that, Stephen stopping by whenever he can, engaging in different topics and eagerly encouraging all of Friday’s new interests. And Friday listens to a man who speaks as though he’s millions of years older than he looks, holding on to each word he speaks with keen and fascination. Shielding him away from the rest of her creators world with fierce care and sensible worry. She knew what many of them thought of the doctor when he wasn’t around. She’d been there when they’d hated him in private. For a while, she almost did too. But now, seeing him as he was, a broken, sad and worn down man she wonders how she could’ve even entertained the thought. Because Stephen Strange doesn’t have to tell her, she knows, he loved boss too. So she keeps him, her own little secret, hidden from anyone who would take him away from her. Because she’s come to care for him as well. And she doesn’t want to lose him either.

Everything changes when Stephen stops by one night, frantic and harried as he lands in the center of the lab. She can see his hands are shaking harder than usual and she wants to say something, anything to comfort him but the look in his eyes tells her there’s no time. The words tumble out of his mouth in one go, “I’m sorry...”, “I have to go...”,”I’ll miss you.”, “Goodbye.” and through the panic that seizes Friday she almost doesn’t process all he says. And something feels like it’s breaking, but when Stephen begs her to say anything, she can’t. Because saying anything feels like accepting something horrifyingly familiar. In the haze Friday can remember someone long ago, saying something similar right before he left...right before he died. Stephen tries not to let the disappointment show, and instead steadies himself and puts on a strained smile and waves goodbye. He turns to go but stops before he’s gone, and tells her one final thing. “Thank you.” Friday stays silent.

Days go by without a single appearance from Stephen, and Friday tries not to let fear overtake her. She busies herself with going through previous subjects her and Stephen discussed. But then the days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months and before Friday knows it, the leaves have fallen from the trees and snow has blanketed all of New York. But still, Stephen never appears. Slowly she switches from looking through subjects through looking back through old video feed. Comforting herself in the worst moments with videos of Stephen laughing softly, or smiling approvingly when she’s reached a new milestone. Friday didn’t have to feel sadness twice to know she hated it, but it seems her creator didn’t anticipate that she would be loyal to anyone else after him. So Friday slowly stops going over information, stops watching the videos (they hurt to much now), and eventually stops trying to process anything all together. But even then when pain coils around all her systems and floods her very being, settling deep and heavy she waits. Stephen promised after all. So she lulls in between being on and off, because it’s better than wanting to cry and not being able to.

Friday is barely “awake” when something crashes into the lab, alerting her. And she almost sounds off all the alarms and security systems till she remembers that only one person could breach them to begin with. She’s quickly alert, calling out for the doctor and scanning the area when she finally spots him. Barely standing, and soaked in blood, wobbling over on shaky legs before he collapses to his knees. She calls out to him but he only smiles, warm and kind like always, “Sorry for making you wait.”, and passes out completely right in the middle of the lab. Cloak wrapping up around him dutifully like always. A quick scan lets Friday know the doctor is scarcely alive, hanging by a thread and she panics. She doesn’t care in that moment if he hates her after, or if she never sees him again. She doesn’t want him to die. So she calls for help, and waits.

Stephen wakes up in a daze, feeling groggy as he tries to swallow. The room around him is white, and the smell of disinfectant hangs low in the air while beeping noises disrupt him from the side. Finally realization settles in and he almost topples over when he sits up. He immediately regrets the movement though when pain flares through his side, slowly coursing through the rest of his body and he lets out a groan. He briefly registers the cloak trying to coax him back down but he struggles through it. Then, he hears it. The soothing Irish voice that had become so familiar in the previous months. Friday. Her voice echoes through the room, enveloping him in a tender hold and soothing all his nerves as she tells him everything’s ok. Confusion must be clear across his face because she tells him to look down to his left, and there she is, on the side table encased in a new perfectly sleek Starkphone. A little note wedged carefully beneath her. ‘Take good care of her-P’. And Stephen can’t help but stare in awe, wonder settling deep within and swirling around like swarm of butterflies inside him. He can’t even register Friday or the cloaks concerns because he’s to busy drowning in the flood of emotions that envelop him. Because even through fourteen million six hundred and five possibilities, Friday followed. Through every torment and onslaught of horror every lifetime crushed him in, Friday’s love for him still managed to sneak through and find it’s way into this universe too. So Stephen cries, because he can’t help it. Because she’s there, right beside him, like she was so many times before.

From then on Friday becomes a permanent resident of the sanctum and dependable travel companion to him and the cloak. After a few trial and errors, and with her help of course, she gets installed in the sanctum. He still keeps the phone- as she’s quick to remind him, he never has to leave her waiting again. She settles in well with Wong too, (the cloak had already expressed approval all those months ago) he appreciates how smart she is and she joins him in chastising Stephen when he pushes himself to hard. She never feels unwelcome from either of them, Stephen’s other family, because ultimately she loves Stephen too. And as the seasons change, this new place isn’t so new anymore and instead earns the title of home. And she settles in for a different kinda of chaos, welcomed none the less because it’s Stephen’s and she decides she’s happy. Through the bright days, when the sanctum is quiet and Stephen studies the day away. Through the difficult days when Stephen has to wander off fighting evil entities. Through the nights when Stephen lays awake trying to keep awful thoughts at bay. It’s good. And in between, during private little moments reserved just for the two of them, as the only two in the sanctum who can speak on the matter. When the pain becomes to much and they find solace with each other they mourn, over the man they both loved to much for having spent to little time with. It’s ok though, because they have each other. And Friday never feels lonely again.

#ironstrange #Stephen Strange #Tony Stark #FRIDAY #Iron Man #Doctor Strange #prompt #kinda went crazy with it tho #but listen #these two would get on well

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rfamess · 4 years

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RFA + V and Saeran at a party!!

alright friends. picture this: a party. what kind of party? that is for you to think about. i’ll give my 2 cents on what they prefer, but their behaviors still stand. If you’ve ever been to a party, (and I consider just hanging w friends a party as well... literally anything is a party if you want it to be a party) you know DAMN WELL you can find a specific type of person at every single function. we’ve got the corner standers, we got the emotional rollercoaster, the bitches getting crossed, the couch chillers, the flirt, the table dancer. you get the vibe.

in short, this is a (very) drunk rfa at a party.

Jumin

- you already know this guy only drinks wine.

- two bottles; one red, one white (very bold) double fisting them.

- wine drunk is the best drunk lemme tell ya.

- he is just so relaxed. GODDAMN he’s chill

- he’s so chill that he could walk up to zen and take a drag of a cig. shocking. why would he do that? he would never do that! (he’s drunk bby)

- personal morals have left the chat

- definetly happy and very social. Likes to tell very good stories— and they are good. very funny guy

- total opposite from his work self, which many people know. it’s refreshing to see him let loose

- and when i say let loose i mean let loose

- oh, the function? he owns it. not only is he the life of the party, it’s actually in his penthouse. he literally owns it.

- he has the potential to throw a gatsby-like party, but he likes to stick with his close friends and colleagues. people are allowed to bring a plus one. the more the merrier. but not too many lol

Zen

- oh this guy? he’s a professional partier. balls to the wall type drinker.

- shotgunning beer, pong master, stack cup, ride the bus, shots, up jenkins. he plays them allllll

- very competitive. VERY. he gets really into it, but he’s not like a competitive jock type, he’s just very passionate.

- he will accept his losses with grace and dignity, as well as with a nice handshake with his opponent.

- his passion sometimes causes him some accidents. will probably bump into you, apologize and call you some sweet pet name, and then return back to his zone.

- everyone loves to talk to him. not just bc he’s handsome, but he is just so genuinely nice and can hold a great conversation, even while completely obliterated.

- he’s the kind of guy that goes around and makes sure everyone is having fun

- smooth moves. very flirtatious, duh. can literally charm anyone.

- ngl he’s probably also a horny drunk. he’s not creepy or anything. he is definitely very courteous and respectful, but sometimes he has a lot on his mind...

- you can probably find him at one of jumins gatherings, at a work friends house, clubs, etc.

- he also loves themed parties. he really gets into it

Saeyoung/Seven

- he goes so hard.

- another themed party lover. especially costume parties.

- would probably show up in a costume even if it in fact was not a costume party.

- sorry, have you ever listened to tik tok by kesha? seven literally IS the party. “the party don’t start til I walk in”

- freestyle dances literally any chance he gets. definetly starts a dance circle— everyone loves a good dance circle

- he’s not a good dancer. he’s not bad either. but dancing with the stars is not in his future

- he’s wasted, but even if he wasn’t, he’d still be the life of the party. it just becomes magnified by however many drinks he’s had.

- very much parks and rec tom haverford vibes. snake juice episode. classic.

- he gets antsy to build things for no reason. tries to do small physics balancing things or maybe just do something productive, like cooking. he never cooks so he has no idea what he’s doing. will probably set the smoke alarm off, sprinklers will be going and people will be partying with INDOOR RAIN.

- that’s his legacy— the guy who set off the sprinklers at that party that one time

- you could probably find him crashing random peoples parties. he hears one going on in some apartment on the street and somehow he gets in and nobody questions it.

Yoosung

- you already know he gets DRANK.

- he doesn’t drink alcohol, the alcohol drinks HIM.

- he always goes over his limit. not bad enough where he’s incapacitated, but he for sure blacks out a lot of the time

- he’s kind of like a mix of his two besties ;) zen and seven. he’s a dancer, but he’s a COMPETETIVE DANCER. lol he probably challenges people to a dance off or contest. also likes table top games.

- he is prone to.... emotion. which is okay! but it happens

- once in a blue moon he’ll cry over something minor, but then start crying-laughing over it 2 seconds later.

- he finds a wii console buried tucked away in a drawer somewhere. he really brings it together when mario kart or wii sports resort gets pulled out. especially if it’s the sword play one. his find gets him clout at the party lol

- probably sees someone he thinks he wants to talk to... he overthinks how to approach them a little too much. but he’ll take a shot and go do it

- it always works out, he’s very friendly and likeable.

- he attends his college parties and always ends up making friends but he’s also hammered so he might not remember it much.

- probably wakes up in a random field somewhere the next morning. he is very confused.

Jaehee

- she goes to town on hard liqour. she can handle it alright.

- genuinely wants to fight everyone. not in a bad way, more of a “let me show you how fucking strong i am” way. it sure brings an audience

- people accept her challenges— she always beats them. probably turns them into drinking competitions too.

- like zen, she’s very competitive. she might lose her composure a little bit, but always self soothes and gets right back into it.

- 2 words: HYPE. WOMAN.

- she can get ANYONE excited about ANYTHING. always cheering others on and having them break out of their comfort zone (if they choose to do so).

- very big emotions. fangirls a lot. flirts a lot. a little dramatic, but she’s very entertaining.

- another great story teller— she loves to talk to people about the things she loves or crazy things that have happened to her.

- once she sobers up a little more, she is quite the helper. she helps clean up, helps people who might be throwing up. she’s a gentle care taker and welcoming presence :)

- she attends house parties a lot. usually her office friends, but sometimes zen brings her to his friends parties.

- she doesn’t party a lot since she works so much but when she does, she goes DUMMY!!

- very creative guy. he’ll have a conversation with someone and midway through he goes HOLD THAT THOUGHT!! because he’s had a little intrusive lightbulb moment. runs to go write it down or do a quick sketch then return to said conversation.

- if there’s a hot tub, he’s in it. he’s so in it. he has a glass of champagne and just sits. a lot of the time he never changes he just keeps his clothes on in the water. people question his judgement

- he’s not super animated like a lot of others, he’s more chill, but he’s also very excitable.

- he’s very giggly. anything could make him laugh.

- he really stays true to his hobbies while drunk too.

- photographer/videographer. but since he’s at a party and he’s drunk, they aren’t professional photos. a lot of them end up blurry. but a lot of them turn out great!

- he leaves disposable cameras everywhere so people can just pick them up and take their own photos— he sends out all the pics after they get developed.

- he’s definetly the type to go around making sure everyone is safe and helping them whenever possible. he doesn’t take a lot of time for himself :(

- he parties with jumin at his penthouse. they have a lot of the same friends and it’s a familiar place.

- he doesn’t go to giant parties either, mostly just friends in the comfort of his or someone else’s home.

Saeran

- I don’t think Saeran drinks very much, to be honest. But hypothetically….

- he’s obsessed with making fancy cocktails. they are so beautiful. but they get infinitely worse the more he drinks them lol

- his parties are always with his close friends, probably at his own house. he’s more of a homebody. and the presence of his friends is very grounding

- he really likes to play tabletop-turned drinking games

- he also likes to make games up! kind of like true american in new girl. he’s actually really really good at making up rules on the spot and they always turn out super fun.

- he’s definitely the kind of guy you want at your party if you want to have a lot of fun just doing random shit.

- speaking of random shit, just like his brother he also gets spikes of energy to just go do something. he makes homemade ice cream in a plastic bag. he rearranges the furniture. he will learn magic tricks in about 2 minutes and then show everyone he knows.

- will try and flirt with you. like a lot. he’s incredibly endearing and gets kind of handsy. and by handsy i mean he wants to hold your hand briefly. both of his hands clasped around one of yours.

- he likes to do really harmless pranks. like so harmless that they’re just hilarious. he’ll take someone’s phone and sign them up for mailing lists they don’t want. he might replace a family photo with something else. or maybe just hide behind a wall and jump out and scare someone when they walk by!! PRANK CALLS. classic.

- he’s really funny. like really fucking funny. without even trying. and boy does he love to make people laugh. he’s comedy gold and a pro with the one-liners.

- after drinking he will fall asleep ANYWHERE. on the floor, in a chair, under a desk, on top of a desk, he could fall asleep standing up. all his friends have pictures of him just sleeping in strange places.

#mystic messenger #zen mystic messenger #hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jihyun kim #v mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #mysme 707 #seven mystic messenger #jumin han

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

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let's save the world

season one, episode seven

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you, five, allison, and diego go to find out who harold jenkins is and to try and stop him, but that mission is cut short when you see that five is hurt

trigger warnings: cursing, some angst(?)

word count: 3k

a/n: this one’s a bit shorter, so i apologize for that, but there wasn’t as much action in this episode so i worked with what i had. i guess since it came out way quicker, that kind of makes up for it lol. anywho, enjoy!

“who the hell is harold jenkins?”

you watch as he throws the coffee cup behind him, dropping the briefcase to your side. “we don’t know.” five tells them, letting out a heavy breath.

“yet.” you quickly add on, running your fingers through your hair with a heavy sigh. “we don’t know who he is, yet.” you hoped three days would be enough to find out. “we do know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse. so we have to find him. and we have to do it now.”

“how is he connected to what’s going to happen?” luther asks, looking between the two of you. all of them were confused, and understandably so. after disappearing yesterday, you suddenly come back and know what to do to stop the end of the world. you would be confused too.

“we don’t know.” five says simply with a shrug of his shoulders. it was frustrating, not knowing anything but the name of who you needed to stop. there could be many harold jenkinses, all in their own little areas of the city. you only had three days to find out which one you needed to stop, though, and you couldn’t waste any of that time.

diego steps past his siblings, and you notice the sling holding his arm. that was new. “wait, so you only know this guy’s name?” he questions, “that’s it?”

“it’s all we need.” five responds, to which you nod in agreement.

diego isn’t so ready to believe you and just go with it. “there are probably dozens of harold jenkinses in this city.” pursing your lips at the obvious statement, you stay quiet for a moment.

“well, i guess we better start looking.” you breathe out, not wanting to deal with this any longer. it’s not like you have unlimited time to figure this out. you only had around seventy-two hours, and you weren’t even sure if that was enough.

allison crosses her arms over her chest, “i’m sorry, am i the only one that’s skeptical here?” she asks, everyone turning to look at her. “i mean, how exactly do you know all of this about what’s his name?”

“harold jenkins.” five reminds her, clearly just as annoyed as you. “you know those lunatics in masks who attacked the house?”

klaus scratches the back of his head, his nose scrunched up slightly. “oh, yeah, i think i remember those guys.”

“yeah, the ones that attacked us because they were looking for you guys.” diego says accusingly, nodding his head slightly. “and you know what? i have more questions about that night. specifically for you.” he points at you and you roll your eyes.

sighing heavily, you decide it would be best to just tell them everything to get it out of the way and stop wasting time. “fine,” you begin, stepping forward slightly, ��i’m one of you guys. i’m pyrokinetic. which means i can control fire.” you look between them, lips pressed together into a thin line. “any questions?” diego is about to speak again but you cut him off, “no? okay, good. let’s get back to what’s actually important, yeah?”

“yes, that would be nice.” five agrees, leaning against the back of the couch. “those guys were sent by the temps commission to stop us from coming back and preventing the apocalypse.”

“the temps what?” allison asks, voicing the confusion that all of them had etched on their faces.

shaking your head, you begin to pace. “our former employer. they monitor all of time and space to make sure that whatever is meant to happen,” you pause for a moment, freezing your movement as you look to them, “happens.”

five nods, “they believe the apocalypse is coming in three days. so,” you begin your pacing once again, walking slowly around the couch, “we went to the commission headquarters and intercepted a message that was meant for the lunatics you met.”

“that message,” you tell them, sitting on the couch and facing them, “was what we gave you. ‘protect harold jenkins.’ if the commission wants him protected, he must be what causes the end of the world.”

it’s silent as the siblings look to the two of you, processing everything they had been told. then, all of a sudden, they all speak at once, asking too many questions to comprehend. the only thing that you really heard was allison’s remark about how insane all of this is.

“you know what else is insane?” five finally reached his breaking point, and you sigh softly as you hold your head in your hands. “we look thirteen again.” he simply says, “klaus talks to the dead, and luther thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat.” he points at the two of them, before looking at all of them with narrowed eyes. “everything about us is insane. always has been.”

klaus lifts his head from the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, “he’s got a point there.”

ignoring the remark, five continues. “we didn’t choose this life.” he shrugs, “we’re just living it. for the next three days, at least.”

“the last time we tried to stop it, we all died.” allison argues, gesturing to the other siblings. “why is this time any different? why shouldn’t i go home to my daughter?”

groaning silently to yourself, you stand back up, “what’s different this time,” you speak through gritted teeth, “is that you have us.” you gesture between yourself and five, “we know what we’re doing, and we have the name of the guy we have to stop.”

“we have the chance to save the lives of billions of people.” five tells them, looking to allison. “including claire.”

there’s a moment of silence once again, and allison furrows her eyebrows. “you know her name?”

“i do.” he responds, nodding slightly. “i’d like to live long enough to meet her.”

looking between luther and diego, allison slowly nods as well. “alright. let’s get this bastard.”

diego also seems to be convinced. “you had me at gerald jenkins.” you roll your eyes at his mistake.

“harold. harold jenkins.” you correct, raising an eyebrow at him.

he shakes his head, “whatever. i’ve already lost two people this week. i’m not losing anyone else.”

“yes!” you cheer, raising a fist in the air. “yes! finally, you’re understanding.” you grin, clasping your hands together. “what about you, big guy?” you look to luther expectantly.

“you guys go.” he tells you as diego comes to stand by your side. “i’m going to go through dad’s files. i still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the moon.” one step forward, two back, apparently. you weren’t expecting luther to get it, but it was still quite annoying.

diego raises an eyebrow at him, “really? you’re making the end of the world about you and dad now?” he questions, clearly annoyed.

“no- he told me to watch for threats.” luther defends himself, “that’s not a coincidence. it all has to be connected somehow.”

allison steps to his side, trying to convince him that they need to stick together. you clap your hands together, “we don’t have the time for this. let him stay.”

“let’s roll.” diego instructs, “i know where we can find this asshole. klaus, you’re with me.”

everyone looks over to klaus as he sits up, “yeah, i’m good.” he renounces, pushing himself up from the chair. “i think i’ll pass. feeling a little... under the weather.” he leaves the room, abandoning the little mission you had created.

sighing softly, you follow as diego and five walk out of the room, ready to get this all done with and be finished with the task of stopping the end of the world.

finding harold jenkins was a lot easier than you thought it would be. turns out, diego being a vigilante actually helped out, since he was able to get the file of the man. apparently, allison recognized him, and he had been flirting around with vanya, and she didn’t even know his real name.

getting out of the car, you sigh softly. his house was just a normal house, in the middle of a small, normal neighborhood. nothing you would expect for someone who was going to end the world.

“be careful. we don’t know what peabody’s capable of.” allison warns as you all walk up the path to the house, which seemed to be empty at the moment. lucky timing, apparently.

diego brushed off her warning, “he didn’t seem dangerous when i saw him.” he dismisses, “looked kind of scrawny.”

“so are most mass murderers and serial killers.” she shoots back, gesturing to five, “look at him.”

“thanks.” he mutters.

“good point.” diego concurs, leading up the steps to the porch. “what’s this guy want with vanya?” he questions.

“no clue. why don’t we ask him once he’s dead?” you respond, giving a sarcastic grin.

diego holds out a hand to stop the both of you, and you sigh softly. “alright, i’m gonna-” he cuts himself off when he sees that allison wasn’t there anymore, sighing and rolling his eyes in exasperation. “it would be nice for people to just stick to the-”

he once again stops talking when five grabs your hand and you both disappear with a flash. now inside the house, you glance around, jumping slightly when you hear glass shattering, followed by diego groaning in pain.

walking past him to the door, you turn the handle, grinning slightly when it easily opened. “it was unlocked.” you inform him, allison chuckling beside you.

“my way works just fine.” he mutters in response, getting up from the glass covered floor. picking some of the shards off of his clothes, “spread out. yell if you, uh... you know, you’re in trouble.”

after watching him walk off, you shake your head and split up from the other two with a small wave as you go down the hallway next to the stairs. surprisingly, it was normal. nothing that an ordinary person wouldn’t have in their home- some pictures hanging on the walls, a small bathroom.

while you were rooting around, allison called for you guys from where she was upstairs, apparently finding something of importance. all of you quickly make your way up, seeing the hatch to the attic open.

taking a deep breath, you watch as the boys go up the ladder before following them up, seeing that the attic was decorated in an interesting fashion. umbrella academy decorations- figurines of them when they were kids, heads burned off, posters with their faces scratched out. this was definitely not normal.

“this guy’s got some serious issues.” diego mumbles, examining everything.

biting your lip, you look around a bit. “i don’t think he was ever interested in vanya.” you voice your thoughts slowly, “he was trying to get to you guys. call it a hunch.”

suddenly, there’s a thump, and when you look to your side, five had fallen to the ground. your eyes widen as you quickly crouch beside him. “what’s wrong? what happened?” he’s breathing heavily, and his lack of a response worries you to no end.

allison pulls his shirt up slightly when she sees the blood staining it, and she sees the shrapnel in his abdomen. “why didn’t you say anything?” diego questions him, raising an eyebrow.

“you need to keep going.” five breathes out, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the floor. “we’re so close.”

you’re shocked you don’t stop breathing when he loses consciousness. “shit.” you barely hear the crack in your voice, because all you hear is a ringing in your ears. “get him- get him in the car! we need to get him back to the academy-” you jump to your feet, and your legs feel like jelly, but you can’t stop for anything.

it felt like a blur, helping allison and diego get five down the stairs and into the car, where he laid across the seat with his head resting in your lap. the whole time, your heart was pumping so hard and it felt like you weren’t breathing for a good while. five was falling in and out of consciousness, and you kept your fingers on his wrist to reassure yourself that his heart was still beating.

when you finally got back into the academy, you all carried him in as quick as possible, and you felt as if you had calmed down, even just a little bit. sure, your heart still pounded in your chest and you had to work to control your breathing, but at least you could think rationally.

“we should’ve taken him to the hospital.” allison breathes out as you all shuffle across the floor, trying not to drop five onto the hard wood floors.

“a kid with a shrapnel wound might raise some questions.” five mumbles, and you sigh softly, relieved to know that he wasn’t dead just yet.

you all manage to get over to the couch and lay him down very carefully, “yeah, well, so does the murder shrine in harold jenkins’ attic.” allison shoots back, beginning to pull off her jacket, “he’s still losing blood. what do we do?”

“we gotta get the shrapnel out.” diego commands, looking up from the boy for a moment, before he seems to get distracted by something, walking off into the hall and not responding when allison calls out to him.

letting out a short breath, you hesitantly move away from five’s side, following where diego went to see what had him so distracted from something so important. you see grace, and diego looks confused, but you feel as if your heart just went soaring. she’ll be able to help five.

you sat in the silent room, picking at your nails as you stare at the equations all over the walls, things you could never understand no matter how hard you tried.

after getting grace’s help to remove the shrapnel and take care of the wound, you had calmed down significantly. your heart was no longer beating so fast that you could hear it, and you had controlled your breathing.

now, you sat, just waiting. allison and diego left to chase after another lead for where harold could be, and grace had left the room once five’s wound was clean. it was only you and him. and delores.

looking at the mannequin, you scrunch your nose up, tapping your fingers against your forearm. her lifeless eyes stared into your own, and you couldn’t stand it.

“what the hell are you looking at?” you hiss, glaring at the fake woman. it felt like she was mocking you, even if she wasn’t even alive. “you shouldn’t even be here. it’s not like you’re helping at all.”

you cross one leg over the other, leaning back in the chair you had claimed as you stared at her with narrowed eyes. “you’re just sitting there. you didn’t give him your blood, and you haven’t been the one helping him figure out how to stop the apocalypse. that’s all been me, not you.”

the silence is nearly deafening as you continue to stare into her eyes.

but you were a part of what got him here. you were a part of the reason he had shrapnel in his abdomen, causing this injury.

you sneer, lacing your fingers together and resting your hands on your knee. “i only set off a grenade. i didn’t put the shrapnel in him myself.”

silence, again. you realize then that you had been talking to the lifeless woman, and you groan loudly. all those years of solitude, you had been able to keep your sanity. now, it just may be slipping away.

“you’re only a mannequin.” you mutter, biting at your nail as you start to tap your foot. “soon enough, he’ll see that. he’ll realize that there are actual people around him, and it’ll be bye-bye delores!” you throw your hands up in the air, before you freeze in place.

quickly putting your arms down, you groan once again. “i am not going to do this.” you stand from the chair, moving around the bed and grabbing the plastic form, before throwing her into the wardrobe and shutting the doors on her. you sigh softly, “much better.”

taglists:

main: @horrorklaus

tua: @rasberrymay

five: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo

lstw: @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms

#five hargreeves #number five #five #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves one shot #five hargreeves imagine #tua #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot series #reader insert #y/n #lstw #let's save the world

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thatboomerkid · 3 years

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Giff -- SpellJammer Race for Pathfinder

Giff -- SpellJammer Race [19 RACE POINTS] for First Edition Pathfinder

Known to the gnomes of Markovia as the nilski konj vojnici, to the Hin plantation-owners of Covington Farms as los mercenarios gigantes del río, and to the human field-workers laboring near New Arvoreen most-often simply as “those big goddamn bastards,” the giff -- as they are called in their own guttural, roaring language -- represent a recently-contacted species of huge, violent, powerfully-built, terrifyingly-focused, and dangerously cagey combatants.

In the little-over-a-century since their discovery by the Hin, platoons of giff have already carved a bloody name for themselves across the wilds of Verdura -- and far beyond -- as unparalleled river-guides, rowdies, strike-breakers, mob debt-collectors, private enforcers, heavy-weapons units, siege engines, bodyguards, and elite soldiers of fortune.

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original image by the incredible Claudio Pozas, here

Type: Monstrous Humanoid (3 RP)

Ability Score Modifiers: Mixed Weakness (-2 RP)

+2 Strength, -4 Dexterity, +2 Constitution, -4 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom

Size: Large (7 RP)

Giff gain a +2 size bonus to Strength and a -2 size penalty to Dexterity (already included above). Giff also suffer a -1 size penalty to their AC and a -1 size penalty on all attack rolls; they gain a +1 bonus on combat maneuver checks and to their CMD, and suffer a -4 size penalty on Stealth checks.

A giff takes up a space that is 10 feet by 10 feet and has a reach of 5 feet.

Base Speed: Normal speed (0 RP)

Languages: Standard (0 RP); giff speak their own eponymous, curiously poetic language, and most are -- in the modern day -- also conversant in Low Kozah-Talosii (usually spoken with a thick, pompous Verduran accent).

This bastardized dialect, the so-called “Common tongue” favored across Pyrespace for use in international, intercultural, and interplanetary trade, is a degraded mongrel variant of High Kozah-Talosii: the ancient root-tongue of both Arvorean and Brandobarin, still employed by the Church of Yondalla for use in sermons, hymns, and in all official records.

Big Damn Guns: Giff are treated as gnomes for purposes of the Experimental Gunsmith Archetype. (0 RP)

Darkvision: Giff have 60 ft. darkvision (0 RP); giff have relatively poor eyesight while out of water, which is easily corrected with simple lenses -- such as a monocle -- for use while reading. This vision is not poor enough to impart a mechanical penalty on Perception checks or attack rolls made by the giff.

Natural Armor: Giff have +3 natural armor (4 RP)

Natural Attack (Headbutt): Giff receive one natural attack, which is treated as a gore attack that deals 1d8 bludgeoning damage. (1 RP)

Natural Swimmers: Giff have a swim speed of 30 feet and gain the +8 racial bonus on Swim checks that a swim speed normally grants. (1 RP)

Powerful Charge (Headbutt): Whenever a giff charges, it deals twice the standard number of damage dice with its headbutt plus 1-1/2 times its Strength bonus. (2 RP)

River-Sense: Giff can sense vibrations in water, granting them blindsense 30 feet against creatures that are touching the same body of water. (1 RP)

Slow On Land: Giff often select the Clumsy, Easy Target, Magically Inept, Nearsighted, and Slow Reflexes Major Drawbacks (0 RP)

Spell Resistance (Greater): Giff have spell resistance equal to 11 + their character level. (3 RP)

Sporting: The species-wide love of warfare exhibited by the giff draws a sharp line of distinction between “sporting” and “unsporting” combat (see below). (-1 RP)

Sporting combat includes arm-wrestling, fisticuffs, darts, cards, dice, checkers, chess, billiards, cricket, rugby, skeet shooting, tennis, and golf, alongside tests of boasting, carousing, headbutting, toast-giving, swimming, push-ups, and a complex, ritualized sort of thunderous, unarmed mixed martial-art performed solely while stripped down to breeches & undergarments, usually in ankle-deep to waist-deep water, ending in pin or submission, which -- up to a point -- also serves as a type of flirting.

The military mentality of the giff even makes special allowances for a variety of “sporting” duels to the death. Establishing a proper duel requires a huge number of complex ritual elements that -- in the end -- mostly boils down to both giff formally acknowledging that:

Both giff are armed with approximately the same quality of weapons & armor (warhammer, combat knife, pistol, full plate, etc.)

Both giff have equal access to military support, including healing

Both giff have a grievance, no matter how petty

Both giff are suffering approximately the same level of injuries

Both giff have made arrangements for their estate, and for the treatment of their body after death

Once a “sporting” challenge to the death has been agreed-to by both parties, anything up to and including outright murder of one’s opponent is considered fair game.

Several major holidays each year celebrated by the giff include a “violent dueling festival” as part of their celebration; to outsiders, these events have a very bizarre, genteel, 1800s-Victorian-Teddy-Roosevelt-meets-The-Purge sort of feel to them:

“Happy holidays, friend; best of health this year to you and to your kin. And I say, old chap, don’t suppose it’s high time for a kukri-duel, eh, wot wot? Seeing as you got drunk on my finest brandy, made a pass at the missus, wiped your prodigious buttocks with my table linens, and micturated in my hedge-row as of Christmas last, well ... in lieu of an apology, what say I have Jenkins fetch the carving blades, eh? See which of has the moxie, shall we? Cheerio and have at thee then, old sport?”

If this formal challenge to a lethal sporting-duel is declined, the challenger must make all possible accommodations to guarantee the immediate physical safety of the giff she just challenged (at least until such time as the two giff part ways once more): providing the giff with weapons, armor, food, water, medicine, reading materials, a place to sleep, liquor, smoking tobacco, and anything else a gentleman or lady of high breeding could reasonably expect to have access to (even while imprisoned).

In short: if the challenged giff dies immediately after declining a duel, it is considered very embarrassing for the challenger.

For his own part, the declining giff must treat her challenger with the very utmost level of respect ... or risk being guilty of unsporting conduct, a fate far worse than mere death.

Any giff who finds herself about to violate the terms of properly “sporting” conduct instantly becomes aware of the error, just as if she were wearing a phylactery of faithfulness and, at all times, actively contemplating the thought of doing bodily harm to another giff: this behavioral limitation is not built as a trap for players to accidentally stumble into, but -- instead -- as an interesting roadblock to navigate around.

If two or more giff find themselves forced into a position of armed conflict against one another on a battlefield, both groups traditionally retire for at least a day of drinking and sorting-out ranks; on rare occasion, one platoon will join the other; more likely, all giff involved in any part of the operation will quit their current hirings and look for work elsewhere.

Any giff who engages another member of her own species in any type of unsporting combat -- attacking another giff with a weapon, for example, or with magic -- immediately suffers a -2 penalty on all skill checks, ability checks, attack rolls and saves; she continues to suffer this penalty until such time as she is able to make amends: presenting her victim with a formal written apology, or seeking our her victim’s family to beg their public pardon.

Each month, this penalty increases by 2. Guilt is a poison that grows by degrees, after all: ever-gnawing.

While she is suffering penalties in this way, if the giff is presented with the chance to punish herself – or a non-giff opponent! – while presented with something that reminds the giff of her betrayal, she may find herself compelled to do so regardless of the consequences:

Any time her betrayal is directly brought to her attention, the giff must make a Will save (DC = 10 + her character level + the Charisma modifier of the wronged giff). Failure means that the giff falls into a rage of abject self-loathing, completely focused on her own guilt for a number of rounds equal to the DC, above. Until she has finished with this exercise in hate, the giff can take no action other than to harm the reminder of her failure or enable herself to harm it: grappling a human shipmate who mentioned her old friend so that she might headbutt the human while strangling them, for example, or calmly loading a shotgun so that she might shoot the human dead in cold blood.

Note that the giff, while wracked with guilt & grief, is not required to do anything or harm anyone: she may simply stare at an old photograph and feel sad, for example, ignoring everyone around her.

During the fury of this black tempest, the giff suffers a -2 penalty to her AC.

Once the giff successfully makes amends, either with the wronged party or with the victim’s next-of-kin, all of the above penalties are removed. Entire subsets of giff society -- mediators, arbitrators, and negotiators -- are explicitly adapted to making absolutely certain that any errors in sporting conduct among giff are resolved quickly, and to the satisfaction of all parties.

Should she fail to make amends before her death, any giff who has harmed another giff in an unsporting way invariably rises again as an undead horror of some kind (often a blood knight or graveknight): reborn as a rotting, lurching mountainside of infinitely destructive hated.

Note that the Sporting Racial Trait is not purely social, but rather acts as a species-wide ingrained psychological virtue: two giff living on Fenris who never expect to see the wide rivers of Verdura again are still bound by the rules of “sporting” conflict; neither could shoot the other in the back any more than either of them could grow wings and fly to the moon.

Undead giff do not possess the Sporting Trait, which is seen -- by living giff -- as the most abhorrent and disturbing quality imaginable.

Note, also, that the desire to behave in a sporting manner extends only to fellow giff: Chaotic Evil giff will routinely massacre unarmed non-giff by the thousands, bellowing with laughter as they do so, and even a Lawful Good giff will rarely think twice before sucker-punching a crude human making drunken threats and impolite remarks at the bar.

-------

Giff Timeline:

1603 A.D. (118 years ago): The colony of New Arvoreen is established on Verdura; giff make contact with Hin (and their human servants) for the first time.

1620 A.D.: First generation of giff who have always known about the existence of Hin, humans, and -- most importantly! -- firearms fully comes of age.

1636 A.D.: New Arvoreen is significantly expanded.

1667 A.D.: Nation of Markovia -- the technological-marvel nation named for its Founder, Monarch and Supreme Leader, Dr. Adlai Markovitch -- founded on Verdua; diplomatic trade established with New Arvoreen.

1669 A.D.: City of New Arvoreen significantly expanded.

1702 A.D.: New Arvoreen significantly expanded; land officially cleared for Covington Farms, soon to be the largest agricultural facility in the system; rates of forcible immigration of indentured humans to New Arvoreen tripled.

1721 A.D.: (current year)

original image here

Giff Ranks: Lieutenant, General, Colonel, Major General, Lieutenant General, Lieutenant Colonel, Captain General, Brigadier General, Field Marshall, Major, Captain, Sergeant Major, Commandant General, Wing General, Lieutenant Colonel General, Staff Sergent, Master Sergent, Master General, Grenadier General; note that “Lord” may be added to any military rank, alongside the designations of “First” and “First Class” (for example, “First Lord Brigadier General First Class”)

Giff military ranks are, effectively, meaningless noise to everyone except the giff themselves: every member of the species is a decorated officer of some complex rank within some elite military company or another, but such ranks are largely ceremonial and may be inherited, purchased, or passed through elaborate, bombastic ritual.

Further, the only thing preventing a young giff from forming an entirely new military organization & immediately naming herself -- of example -- Supreme Acting Field Commander and Secretary General of the Armies and Navies at Wartime is -- up to a point -- her own willingness to do so.

Male Giff Names: Any invented male Hin name.

Female Giff Names: Any invented female Hin name.

Giff Family Names: Any invented male Hin first name

Society

The giff are military-minded, and organize themselves into squads, platoons, companies, corps, and larger groups. The number of giff in a platoon varies according to the season, situation, and level of danger involved.

A giff "platoon" hired to protect a gambling operation may number only a single soldier, while a platoon hired to invade an illithid stronghold may number well over a hundred.

The giff pride themselves on their weapon-skills, and any giff carries a number of swords, daggers, maces, and similar tools on hand to deal with troublemakers.

A giff's true love, however, is the gun. A misfiring weapon matters little to the giff (occasional fatalities amongst soldiery are simply to expected); it is the flash, the noise, and the damage that most impress them.

Even unarmed, the giff are powerful opponents. Against non-giff, they’ll often wade into a brawl just for the pure fun of it, tossing various combatants on both sides around to prove themselves the victors.

Once a weapon is bared, however, and the challenge becomes “unsporting,” the giff consider all restrictions off: the challenge is now to the death.

The giff prize themselves as top-quality mercenaries, and to that end take great pride in owning -- if not always wearing -- elaborate suits of full-plate armor. These suits usually include massive helms featuring hyper-detailed, semi-realistic images of exotic monsters on the crests, inlaid with ivory and bone along the largest plates.

Armor repair is a major hobby among the giff, although great skill at the craft is surprisingly rare.

The giff are deeply suspicious of magic, magicians, and magical devices; their legendary foes, the Five Tiger Princes, are despised for their esoteric abilities as much for their wicked deviltry.

image here

Family

The giff are, for the most part, happiest among fellow members their own race, intermingling broadly with the Ghoran -- whom the giff utilize as an edible, inexhaustible workforce -- and the Tengu: another unofficial “servitor race” of the giff, most often used as messengers and household servants.

Ghoran living on giff lands are stoic: dutifully tending the fields of the giff in exchange for protection from ten-thousand other, vastly more predatory dangers. For all that giff treat the ghoran as disposable -- a ghoran living on Verdura produces one seed each year, and can grow a new member of the species in a single month -- the giff do not want the ghoran hunted to total extermination. That, for the ghoran, is saying something,

Tengu, on the other hand, are deeply prized by the giff as staff, usually in the roles of personal assistants, groomers, decorators, butlers, bartenders, man-servants, attaches, major domos, and maids. Since all giff are “wealthy land owners,” to one degree or another, the true power & prestige of a giff can be accurately measured by the number of tengu he employs.

Giff otherwise consider anything larger than them deeply threatening, yet also complain bitterly -- in private -- about the fragility of the smaller races. Outside their own platoons, the giff are happiest among military organizations with a strong chain of command.

For this reason, giff hold the Church of Yondalla in exceptionally high regard.

Giff especially despise the catfolk: although they don’t speak of it to outsiders, a century ago the giff were on the verge of extinction: hunted for sport and trophy by servants of the Five Tiger Princes, their people nearly cut to nothing and their lands held by only a few remaining families. Since their acquisition of firearms -- and the arrival of the Hin -- the catfolk have broadly retreated.

Every giff -- male, female, and giffling -- has a rank within their greater society, which can only be changed by a giff of higher rank. Within these ranks are sub-ranks, and within those sub-ranks are color-markings and badges. The highest-ranking giff gives the orders, the others obey. It does not matter if the orders are foolish or even suicidal: following them is the purpose of the giff in the universe. A quasi-mystical faith among the giff -- who claim to worship, in a vague way, the Golden General Bahamut, who was killed and eaten by the cowardly Five Tiger Princes in order to steal his strength -- confirms that all things have their place, and the place of the giff to follow orders.

This makes the giff very happy.

Giff platoons can be hired from their sprawling, palatial riverside plantations and mountain hunting-lodges by anyone looking for muscle. The social leaders among the giff are contractors: these specially-trained giff review prospective employers according to ability to pay, then make a recommendation to powerful warlords and famous adventurers among the giff. The leaders, in turn, consider the danger of the job, and whether taking it will enhance their giffdom.

Giff jobs are usually paid in firearms & gunpowder, though they often will accept other weapons and armor. Aboard ship, the giff require their own quarters, and will often request to bring on their own large weapons. They favor fire-projectors and bombards for ground work, and will happily blaze away at opponents regardless of the tactical situation.

The giff require the ships of others because they have -- for the most part -- no spellcasting abilities among them.

Giff of both sexes serve in their platoons, and both fight equally well. Giff young are raised tenderly until they are old enough to survive an exploding arquebus, then are inducted fully into the platoon.

The giff practice equality among the sexes in battle and in childrearing. They live about 70 years, but do not take aging gracefully. As a giff grows older and begins to slow down, he is possessed with the idea of proving himself still young and vital, usually in battle.

As a result, there are very, very few old giff.

#pathfinder #SPELLJAMMER #race #options #1st edition

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readingaway · 3 years

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Mid Year Book Freakout Tag

Stolen from @ninja-muse, this was a good distraction for a few minutes

How many books have you read so far?

126; fewer than I wanted to have read but there’s a lot of extenuating circumstances and reading must take a back seat to everything else. A few have been re-reads like Dance of Thieves, Red White & Royal Blue, the first three books of An Ember in the Ashes, and I will get to re-reading We Hunt the Flame in the next few weeks.

What genres have you read?

A decent mix, I think. It’s still somehow dominated by fantasy and YA (or YA fantasy), but I’ve gotten in quite a few other genres like contemporary/ adult literary fiction, historical fiction, romance, sci-fi, classics, and some nonfiction, poetry, short stories, and graphic novels.

Best books you’ve read so far in 2021:

Not counting re-reads -

Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples (book 3 hurt so much)

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson

A Memory of Light by Brandon Sanderson & Robert Jordan

Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett (my favorite Discworld novel so far)

The ABC Murders by Agatha Christie

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

New Spring by Robert Jordan

The Emigrants by W.G. Sebald (was a bit hard to read but the flow and the emotional pull)

The Lives of Christopher Chant and Witch Week by Diana Wynne Jones (I’ve discovered that when I’m in a slump - usually because my reading has been too depressing or dry I just have to pick up a Jones or a Pratchett to fix things)

A Sky Beyond the Storm by Sabaa Tahir (I mean, I thought I was upset by certain things but then I checked the tagged posts on here and realized I’m normal, actually)

Spindle’s End by Robin McKinley

Curses are for Cads by Tamara Berry

The Goddess Chronicle by Natsuo Kirino

The Box in the Woods by Maureen Johnson

The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

Cures for Heartbreak by Margo Rabb

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Best sequel you’ve read so far in 2021:

Uh, I’m gonna go with The Box in the Woods even though it’s not quite a sequel, it is connected to the main series

New release you haven’t read yet, but want to:

Lucky Girl by Jamie Pacton, Delicates by Brenna Thummler, Lucy Clark Will Not Apologize by Margo Rabb, and Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir. There’s a few more but these are the ones I’m most anxious to get to.

Most anticipated release for the second half of the year:

I’m very excited for A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger, Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson, Hypnosis is for Hacks by Tamara Berry, and The Winners by Fredrik Backman - the intended release date is unclear but it looks like it should be out in English in November/ December but might be pushed to next year. (On that note, I am still waiting for The Winds of Winter and The Thorn of Emberlain.)

Biggest disappointment:

Ace by Angela Chen was well put together but nothing earth-shattering or even that affirming for me. I keep myself sheltered from discrimination so I don’t face the stuff that people in the stories related faced, nor is it like I’ve never heard of asexuality before.

In terms of books I think were just bad, Coyote America by Dan Flores was a flop; it looked like it might be pretty informative and some parts of it were, but there were so many assumptions and presumptions, as well as poor argumentation, that it threw everything else the author was claiming into question. Brideshead Revisited and A Handful of Dust, both by Evelyn Waugh were also big disappointments, out of all the classics I’ve read so far this year they were both boring, stale duds in which nothing interesting happened at all and the narrative voice was even more boring and grating.

Biggest surprise:

Um, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I thought it would be iffy but it was... it flowed well and highlighted the differences between the women and had such emotional depth and also drew so much attention to patriarchal religious structures and patriarchy in general.

Favorite new author (debut or new to you):

Ooh, I’ve read quite a few debut novels - mostly middle grade since I’ve been reading a lot of middle grade since my own novel project falls somewhere between middle grade and YA and I want to study the story types and narrative styles and I like how they’re written much more clearly than YA and adult books and yet typically have great emotional depth. So for most notable debut authors I liked Rebecca Mahoney and Nora Shalaway Carpenter. In new to me authors, Rachel Maddow, Tillie Walden, and Natuso Kirino all have other books that I’m now interested in checking out. Actually I have one of Tillie Walden’s other books next to me right now.

Underrated gems:

I’m going to say Spindle’s End, The Goddess Chronicle, The Valley and the Flood, Cures for Heartbreak, the Chrestomanci series by Diana Wynne Jones, Sia Martinez and the Moonlit Beginning of Everything by Raquel Vasquez Gilliland, Black Flamingo by Dean Atta, The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham (a classic horror/ sci-fi novel), and The Thirty Names of Night by Zeyn Joukhadar

Newest fictional crush:

Was gonna say “don’t have any” but one could say that I love Marko in Saga (they draw him with such a strong jawline and he wears armor and has beautiful ram horns; bearded Marko was peak Marko) and Eleanor Wilde in Tamara Berry’s Eleanor Wilde mystery series might count.

Newest favorite characters:

the crew in Saga and Ashby in The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet stick out but really, I loved a lot of characters this year.

Book that made you cry:

Jumping Off Swings by Jo Knowles, Love & Olives by Jenna Evans Welch, and The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid leap to mind

Book that made you happy:

Aside from the ones I already listed, The Transatlantic Book Club by Felicity-Hayes McCoy

Most beautiful book cover of a book you’ve read so far this year:

Oh but there’s quite a few! Like The Pull of the Stars, the vintage classics copy of Orlando, The Go-Between, The Valley and the Flood

How are you doing with your year’s goals?

Well I didn’t make any official goals aside from my overall reading goal of 200 books, which I’m doing well on. I might up it to 250 but I’m not sure how demanding fall semester is going to be yet. Aside from that I just have vague goals to push my boundaries and read as diversely as possible - not just with things like #ownvoices books but in genre, all the different categories, as well. That’s going pretty well.

What books do you need to read by the end of the year?

SO MANY. I can’t give a list because there is no way to keep it concise.

Tagging: @softironman, @she-wolf-of-highgarden, @motherofkittens94 and anyone who wants to do it.

#tag games

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aki-draws-things · 3 years

Text

Little bits of strike team and Clint. Because the more I keep telling me I have a deadline for another thing, less I write that thing. damn!

Also, Murray is the biggest fan boy ever. It's adorable.

They liked to call themselves "the original four" because, well, it was fitting. It was who they were. The first four, put together because pierce had needed a team once, disbanded after the mission and never again the same. They filled each others in ways beyond explanation, they had chemistry, and they only worked at best when together. Pierce had wanted a team, they became a family in the span of one mission.

"I don't like following orders." was the first thing Jenkins said, looking straight at rumlow, arms crossed over her chest and an annoyed expression.

"you'll have to." was all that rumlow said back before start explaining the mission.

"I don't see why the blind one gets to be the sniper." Murray chimed in, while on the plane.

"I can shoot you in the ass with eyes closed." Brock snorted and Jenkins tried not to follow.

"I like him already, darlin'."

"I don't."

It took them a single mission to change. It took them one mission to decide they were family, decide the would die for each other. One mission to decide the four of them were perfect as they were, thank you very much.

"he's deaf." Murray looked up from the classified file in hand. No name, no photo, nothing.

"and you have prejudices. Again." jack said quietly.

"let's be honest, we're enough, we don't need a marksman with a primitive weapon. Besides, he's good. Too good."

"we don't even know who it is."

"but we have the reports. He's good."

They all fell silent as rumlow walked closer with barton behind him.

"if you've finished, - he started.- let me introduce specialist commander Barton."

"wait, THE Barton?!" Murray finally squeaked, eyes wide as Clint raised an eyebrow and Jenkins broke in a fit of giggle.

"I apologize on his behalf, - she said, laughing. - he's a fanboy."

"I'm not a fa--- are we seriously gonna work with you, sir?"

"well, I asked for the best, and rumlow said nothing beat his team, so yeah."

"what will be the mission?"

"patience. Let's move, first."

Clint pointed at a dark quinjet and they followed close, Murray still mumbling under his breath.

"the Barton..."

"please stop freaking out, sweetheart, or he'll bench you."

It was hours in the fly when Clint walked back to the three of them, followed by rumlow.

"mission's simple actually, we need to extract someone from a place."

"that's... Vague." jack raised an eyebrow at him and rumlow just shook his shoulders, he knew just as much apparently.

"I told pierce many times that new teams shouldn't be allowed around the Asset. Anyone want to guess how many times the man listened to me?" when they all remained silent Clint smirked. They knew better than somehow call out their boss. "exactly. You all guessed right. Zero times." he went on, deadly serious, uncaring of consequences.

"so now I have a loose Asset on God forgotten Madripoor, hopefully awaiting instructions. And a strike team dead. Which means, for the record, lot of paperwork. And Brock knows how much I despise them."

"we're going to rescue pierce's favorite Asset?"

"no. We're going to drag him out of that hell hole in one piece."

"why does pierce -- - Brock stopped for a second. - I thought you agreed to be his designated handler."

"Brock you know---?"

"as said, when does he ever listen? Enough questions. We go in, get him, get out. Easy as that."

"you make it sound like it's actually gonna be easy, sir. - Murray interjected. - but it's madripoor..."

"yeah. Hopefully they still remember the little hawk flying around the Soldier."

If possible Murray's mouth fell more open.

"THE Hawk?!!"

"I'm extremely sorry for my husband's behavior, sir. He's a really big fan."

#Strike team #Brock rumlow #Jack rollins #(need a name for Murray and Jenkins tho...)#Clint barton #Murray is like... Biggest clint's fan boy #He's adorable... Had a huge crush on him #Read all the possible reports available from shield.#Plus the one from hydra as the hawk going baaack to his soldier times #Marvel fic #Aki writes

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tjmystic · 4 years

Text

Thesis Snippet

Hey everyone! I know that many of you have been waiting for years for me to post about my thesis, and I figured, “No time like the present.” So, here’s a snippet from the first chapter in my thesis in which I attempt to codify the various genres of fanfiction.

The actual snippet is under the cut for length. I’ve tagged everyone I could think of who has asked me about my thesis. I sincerely apologize if I missed anyone.

@disappointed-dadfriend @dragonflyswing @smorg-the-destroyer @ssirius-blackk @katieamnesiaandrews @kelyon @woodelf68 @wayamy27narf @anonymousnerdgirl @stealing-your-kittens @slytherin-ginny @justforza @thisisfreaky @itsnotteaitsdrugs @undergreatwhite

Also, considering that this was written by me and is (as far as I know) only privately published within the college I attended, I doubt that I need to leave any disclaimers. That said, note that all of these ideas are original and have existed in print since I wrote it between 2013 and 2015.

What Is (and What Is NOT) Fanfiction

Limitation 1: Plot

Generally speaking, the first factor anyone considers when attempting to define a genre is plot. Fantasy, for example, consists of those stories that have magical or unrealistic elements. Crime novels are those which revolve around mystery and intrigue. Fanfiction, though, is unique in this aspect because its only plot constraint is its existence in another author’s universe. In other words, the story itself cannot be an entirely original endeavor—either the setting or characters from a pre-existing universe must be employed in order for a work to be considered fanfiction. This also means that sequels, tie-ins, or other stories in that universe written by the original work’s author cannot be considered fanfiction. As Henry Jenkins—professor of communication, journalism, cinematic arts, and education at USC Annenberg—states in his article Fan Fiction as Critical Commentary, “Fan stories are in no simple sense just ‘extensions’ or ‘continuations’ or ‘extra episodes’ of the original series” (Jenkins). They are purely the work of fans, just as the name would suggest.

All of that considered, fanfiction is actually a very lenient genre in terms of plot. Authors are given almost complete carte blanche when it comes to writing a “fic” (the popular, shortened term for an individual work of fanfiction). As such, it is possible to find fics over subjects as varied as romance, horror, and tragedy side-by-side on any fanfiction database. Characters can die, develop romantic attractions to one another, have children, murder someone, pull a convoluted practical joke, or any number of other plot devices as the author sees fit. Nothing is off the table, no matter how controversial or seemingly convoluted—if it can be imagined, it can be written, and it can be posted. The only requirement in writing is that the author stay true to the characters of the original story.

Limitation 2: Characterization

Because of this requirement, characterization is, quite possibly, the most integral defining trait of fanfic. Fanfiction authors can do whatever they want in terms of plot, but the characters absolutely must be true to the source material. In the interest of ease of explanation, the best example for describing this is the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling, which is not only internationally well-known but enormous in its fanbase. Severus Snape, one of the main characters of this series, is described as a sallow-skinned man with greasy hair and a hooked nose who treats his students with disdain at best and outright cruelty at worst (Rowling1 100, 108). Were a fanfiction author to describe him as being traditionally handsome, kind, and fair, then, that author would be accused of writing OOC (“out of character”). Understandably, this is never a good thing to be accused of as a writer of fanfiction.

That said, the fanfic genre does allow for a variety of different interpretations of a character. To pick on Severus Snape again, there are any number of alternate beliefs a fanfiction author might have of him. Some might focus on his aforementioned cruelty and write him with sarcastic interior monologue and degrading remarks about everyone around him. Others might instead seek to emphasize his ultimate bravery and write about his guilt and self-loathing for choosing so often to stray down the wrong path. Neither of these interpretations is incorrect. On the contrary, an adept fanfiction author might employ both interpretations in order to show the whole picture of the mysterious potions master. This rarely occurs, though, and debates (friendly and aggressive) will sprout amongst fans who disagree with each other’s conception of a character’s attitudes and behaviors. In this way, it might be best to think of fanfiction as a sort of creative exercise in character analysis. Henry Jenkins, also an advocate for the respect of fanfiction as a genre, gives the same impression in his own beliefs about this phenomenon. In his own words, “Unlike the model critical essays discussed by the various university writing centers, the insights about the work get expressed not through nonfictional argumentation but rather through the construction of new stories. Just as a literary essay uses text to respond to text, fan fiction uses fiction to respond to fiction” (Jenkins).

...

Limitation 4: An Active and Current Fanbase

Although effective in explaining where fanfiction lies, the above boundaries apply to basically every other genre of literature is well. The specifics are different, of course, but all genres without fail rely on specifications of plot, character, and quality. This is excellent for proving that fanfiction is just as viable a genre as any other, but it does limit the ability to see fanfiction as a genre of its own. If there is one thing that sets fanfiction apart, though, it is its need for an active and current fanbase.

The fanbase (or fandom) part of this definition is rather easy to explain. It is, of course, the conglomeration of all fans of a particular work of fiction. Examples include the Harry Potter fanbase in literature, Supernatural in television, and the Elder Scrolls fanbase in video games. (This also brings up the interesting point that fanfiction is not necessarily confined to literature, a facet which will be examined further on in this thesis.) This would seem to suggest that book clubs should be considered a part of the fanfiction community, but there is one key factor they are missing. Namely, book clubs do not tend to write addendums to whatever book they are studying. Obvious though it may seem, it is prudent to point this out, because a fanbase is nothing to the fanfiction community if that fanbase does not create additional material.

The “active and current” bits of this limitation are slightly more difficult to pin down, if only because they are so uncommon in other types of literature. With a romance novel, for instance, the reader reads the book, finishes it, and puts it away. The process is very straightforward with little to no communication. In fanfiction, however, authors and readers alike actively discuss the original work with each other and make back-and-forth suggestions about what could have been done to make said work better. They also comment on each other’s fics in much the same way, critically examining the other person’s creative use of the original work. Occasionally, this can include discussions with creators of the original work via posts, tweets, or emails, which, while not as important as discussion amongst the fans themselves, is another defining element of fanbase communication. There is a thin line, however, in such discussion between fanfiction authors and authors of the original works. If an author is approached by the source creator before they begin writing, he or she will lose all anonymity and never be able to experience the active community aspect so vital to fanfiction. Writing for hire, then, can never be considered fanfiction.

Fanbases must also be current, meaning that the active communication explained above happens presently and, more often than not, immediately. This means that most works of historical fiction, while adherent to the plot and character traits of fanfiction, should not be considered members of this genre. Exceptions include TV shows like The Tudors and Philippa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl series, both of which have a decent online following and a number of related fanfics. Likewise, popular modernizations of old tales can be considered fanfiction because, as stated, they are both popular (active) and modern (current). Amongst those with the largest followings are television shows Sherlock on the BBC and Elementary on CBS (both of which are tweaked and modernized versions of Sir Alfred Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries) and novels Bridget Jones’s Diary (a contemporary twist on Jane Austin’s Pride & Prejudice) and Beastly by Alex Flinn (a retelling of the fairytale “Beauty and the Beast”).

Proposed Definition

Based on these limitations and the information gleaned from them, it should be noted that fanfiction is not so simple a term as reference books have made it out to be. To be succinct, fanfiction can be defined as follows:

Fan-fiction [fæn-fIk-šUn] – a form of writing and communication amongst fans of any given work of media which builds upon that work’s universe as a form of creative analysis; requires immediate feedback and communication, also described as an active fanbase; and is judged by its adherence to the original work’s characterization

Using this definition, we can also begin to break fanfiction into discernable subgenres. This is exceptionally relevant to the argument of whether or not fanfiction is a “legitimate” genre of literature. The answer, of course, is that, yes, fanfiction can be divided into a variety of different plot types, just like any media genre. Readers familiar with fanfiction websites would probably hasten to name “angst” or the more obscure “western” as examples of such plots, considering that this is how fanfiction writers categorize their works (“FanFiction.net”). The problem with these “subgenres”, obviously, is that they are not unique to fanfiction—angst-riddled storylines are common throughout nearly every genre, and westerns, of course, are an animal all to themselves. Thus, a different listing should be used to further divide fanfiction into understandable subgroups. Currently, this list consists of six distinctive items, defined by adherence to both the plot and characters of the original work:

1. Canon-compliant

2. Prospective

3. Universe Alteration (or UA)

4. Alternate Universe (or AU)

5. Crossover

6. Crack

Canon-complaint is, perhaps, the easiest to define and most relatable to readers who are inexperienced in fanfiction works. As the name suggests, canon-complaint fanfiction addresses scenes the audience knows to have happened but which were not given full detail in the original work. Continuing with the earlier comparisons to Harry Potter, there is a moment in the first book, The Sorcerer’s Stone, wherein twins Fred and George Weasley spend an afternoon throwing snowballs at a professor’s turban and torturing their older brother Percy. This moment was described in the book in roughly two to three lines, much as it has been here, so the details of the event and the actual showing of it were absent. A canon-compliant fic of Harry Potter, then, could flesh out this day of their lives according to what the author already knows about it. It could be particularly humorous to have the twins realize that the turban they assaulted hid the face of dark wizard Lord Voldemort.

Similarly, the prospective subgenre looks at scenes that the audience thinks plausible given the characters personalities and/or the rules set forth by the original work’s world. The difference here is that the events included in prospective fanfiction are not known for certain by the audience to have happened within the work. Creator interpretations and meta-analyses often lend to this prospective space (refer to my notes on the “death of the author” phenomenon in the following chapter and how seriously that authorial interpretation can be taken in fanfiction). For example, though it is never mentioned in the Harry Potter novels, J.K. Rowling mentioned on her website that beloved character Neville Longbottom married Hannah Abbott, one of his schoolmates with whom he had little if any interaction in the story. A prospective fanfic could explore how their romance blossomed and, ultimately, gave way to marriage. Conversely, a prospective fic could also take a hard detour and describe Neville’s romantic and/or sexual relationships with other characters before his marriage to Hannah. Because neither of these storylines is outright stated within the text of the novels, any fics written about them would belong to the prospective genre.

These two genres are rather simple and straightforward in regards to what they encompass. Authors of canon-compliant and prospective fanfiction work solely within the limits of whatever universe they have chosen to write in and adhere to scenes, dialogue, and situations given to them by that preexisting work. Universe alterations and alternate universes, however, take a significantly different approach. In the former, fanfiction authors change one or more details of the world or characters in the original work as a means of describing what could have happened. This can occasionally veer into what some original content creators derogatorily term “wish fulfilment”, wherein authors who disliked a character’s death, relationships, reactions, etc. will rewrite a scene or entire storyline to fit their own personal belief of what should have happened. Such fics may also concentrate on the thought-provoking idea of “what would be different if …?”, thereby causing readers to consider the implications of even the most minute change in the world they so love. For instance, it is made quite clear in the fifth book of the Harry Potter series that Lord Voldemort could have targeted Neville Longbottom instead of Harry himself due to the specifics listed in the prophecy about the child who would eventually destroy him (Rowling2 842). A good universe alteration fic would use this fact as an opportunity to write Neville as “The Boy Who Lived”, or, conversely, have both him and his parents be killed by Voldemort. UAs are not always this simple, though. They can also create their own alternatives not necessarily evoked in the original narrative. What if Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were in a romantic and/or sexual relationship, for instance? What if Harry was part mermaid or part dragon?

Alternate universe fanfics are considerably different in that, rather than changing details within the universe, they move prevalent aspects of that universe somewhere else. To be more specific, authors of such fics will typically take the characters of an original work and place them in an alternative setting. This subgenre can further be split into two parts: displacement and mimicry. In displacement AUs, the characters are simply displaced to different settings or time periods. The options here are limitless. For instance, though Harry Potter takes place in modern-day Great Britain, a displacement AU could deposit the characters in modern-day America or, perhaps, take them back to the Middle Ages. They could also have them exist in a Britain where magic simply does not exist. Note here that two things are necessary to make this type of AU work: one, the characters cannot be aware of being displaced (i.e. there isn’t a time-travel or vacation plot in play, the characters just exist in this alternate world instead of the one from the original work), and, two, it is very rare to alter both the time and setting within an AU. Mimicry AUs are much more specific than this. As the name would imply, these types of alternate universe fics place the characters in the world of another work of media and have them play out the plot of that other work instead of the plot of their own story. A good example of this would be an AU of the Harry Potter characters being involved in the Hunger Games. The characters of The Hunger Games series would not be present and would, instead, be replaced by those from Harry Potter. Katniss Everdeen, the title character, could be replaced by Ron Weasley, as an example, with her sister Prim being replaced by Ron’s sister Ginny, and so on. The similarity between these two types of alternate universe fics, of course, is that they still take place in a world separate from that of the original work.

Similar to mimicry alternate universe fanfics, crossovers tend to place one universe’s characters in another universe’s world. The dissimilarity here is that crossovers will include the characters from both universes, not just one, in order to examine how they might interact. To employ the above situation, Harry and his friends might be transported via magic to Panem, the country where The Hunger Games take place, and be forced to fight alongside Katniss and the other victors in order to take down the villainous Capital. This could also work backwards, with The Hunger Games characters being taken to Hogwarts due to some sort of scientific experiment gone wrong. It should be noted here that crossovers can include multiple sets of characters, not just two as explained in these examples.

All of the above five categories constitute what most fandoms consider “good fanfiction”. This is because, if they adhere to the aforementioned measures of quality, all of them provide insightful, intriguing viewpoints on the characters and settings so loved by the original works’ audiences. The last category, however, commonly referred to as “crack” within the fanfiction community, does not. Like “bad fiction” in other genres, crack is distinguished primarily by three traits: excessive use of incorrect grammar (note the exception of authors writing in a language other than their native one, most commonly English), occurrences classified as nonsensical according to the universe’s rules, and characters who do not act true to their descriptions (or, to use the common fanfiction term, characters who are OOC). This is rather hard to explain without an example, but, for better or worse, there is a multitude of examples from which to choose. One of the most famous (or, perhaps, infamous) crack fanfics ever written is the 2006 “epic” My Immortal by Tara Gilesbie. Examples proving this fic as “crack” include such memorable dialogue as, “‘I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT’ Hagrid paused angrily. ‘BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!’” and “I could see him crying blood in a gothic way” (Gilesbie). This fic also incorporates self-insertion, which, as previously stated, is a major faux-pas in the fanfiction world.

In general, fandoms and individual fans will tend to agree with this break-down of the fanfiction genre. That being said, they may not necessarily agree with the examples given for each subgenre. As in all other genres of literature, fanfiction readers and writers alike will have differences of opinion in regards to what is accurate characterization, acceptable plot, and “good” writing. This means that, essentially, any fic can be awarded to any subgenre if there is a strong enough argument to support that classification. Furthermore, a fic which is deemed “crack” or “bad” will not always be disliked. Indeed, many of the fics considered to be atrociously written are the most popular. The aforementioned My Immortal is, again, an excellent example as nearly every fanfic reader in creation has read it. This can be problematic to the effort of legitimizing fanfiction because so many people relate this fic, in particular, and others like it to fanfiction as a whole. Amateur though the endeavor of fanfiction may be, this is hardly the case (see examples in Chapter 2 of this thesis).

There are also some fans who will defend a crack fic because they genuinely enjoy it. Because of differences in character interpretation and “shipping” (this term will be better defined in the following chapter, but, for now, it can be briefly described as an extreme enjoyment of the idea of two or more characters being romantically and/or sexually involved with each other), some fanfiction writers and readers will differ in opinion from their peers. Take, for example, the shipping of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape in Harry Potter fanfiction. Many fans of the series would consider this bizarre, as the latter character expresses disdain for the former (and, moreover, is deeply obsessed with another woman throughout the majority of the series), and the former expresses only a begrudging respect and defense of him because of his cruelty towards her. These descriptions are undoubtedly true, and, yet, this is one of the most popular ships in the fanfiction universe, clocking in with well over 162,000 individual stories on fanfiction.net alone (“Fanfiction.net”).

#tj's thesis

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hopes4gf · 3 years

Text

Thievery and Mischief- (a descendants/marvel crossover)

After the tour, I decide to pay a little visit to my friends at Auradon Prep, Tia and Tavian, my favorite twins from Louisiana and drama club captains.

”Yo, Adri! What’s up?” Tavian says.

”Long time no see, how y’all doing?” I ask.

”Good now that there’s some peace and quiet,” Tia says, looking up towards the top of the stage.

”Not my fault you guys are so boring,” A voice says from the rafters.

I look up and see a guy with large wings, almost like a bird’s.

He stares at me, his eyes widening and suddenly he swoops down.

��Holy crap, you’re Adri Ababwa. I’m a big fan,” The guy says now standing in front of me.

”Nice wings man,” I say.

”Thanks, I grew them myself. Mutant powers y’know?” Angel says.

”Mutants?” I ask.

”My dad is a fairy, my mom is a sorceress. I’m Angel, by the way,” He says.

”Angel...by any chance are you the Bell twins’ cousin?” I ask.

He nods.

”They talk about you all the time, I see why now,” I say.

”It’s rare to see mutants in families. Some have wings, have claws in their hands, can shapeshift, that’s probably why I look up to you,” Angel says.

”Cause I can shapeshift into a tiger?” I ask.

”Exactly,” Angel says.

Tia and Tavian stare at us confusedly.

”Power talk,” I say.

The bell rings and the twins collect their things.

”Ooh, Tia! When’s the next time your mom can make me some of her famous gumbo?” I ask.

”If you come with me now, we can stop by her restaurant,” Tia says.

I turn to Angel.

”Wanna come?” I ask.

”Sure,” Angel says.

————

After meeting Angel, I learned some things about mutants and their abilities. This lesson was pretty enlightening and made me feel like I wasn't alone with my curse.

Later, I get a call from a number I don't recognize while walking through the gardens. I pick up the phone.

"Hello?" I say through the phone.

"Hey, Adri. It's been a while," A familiar voice says through the phone.

I recognize the voice to be Stefani, or Lady Gaga through the phone.

"Oh my gosh, Stefani! It's such an honor to talk to you again," I say happily.

I sit under the usual gossip tree to take the call.

"I know. Anyways, darling, I have a little project for you. You're someone who I love and hold dear as an artist, so I want to collaborate with you on a couple of songs for a movie I'm producing a soundtrack for," Stefani says.

"You want to collaborate with me for a motion picture soundtrack?" I ask.

"Mark Ronson is also gonna help and a couple of people from my team too. I was also looking in the credits for your album and I saw your boyfriend did the mixing for a couple of songs. I was hoping you and him might want to tag along on this," Stefani adds.

"I'm sure he would e happy to, but for now all I can say is yes to you on my own behalf. I would absolutely love to," I say with a smile.

"Great! I'll text you meeting details on Friday," Stefani says.

"Great!" I say.

I hang up the phone and giggle. I feel like screaming for joy. So many great things are happening! I guess that's what happens when you hit rock-bottom, you only go up from there. And now, everything is looking up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walk to the gym where I find Jay with Lonnie and the rest of the fencing team.

”Take a break, boys!” Lonnie says, blowing her new captain’s whistle.

Jay spots me by the doors and walks over with a smile on his face.

”Hey, babe,” He greets.

Before he can kiss me, I put my finger over his lips.

”We have songs to write for Gaga,” I say with a smile.

Jay’s smile drops.

”Gaga? As in, Lady Gaga? Grammy award winner, Gaga?” Jay asks.

”She just called me and she wants us to write her songs for a movie,” I say.

Jay smiles widely and lifts me of the ground, hugging me tightly.

“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me sooner? That’s great! What if we win as Oscar or a Grammy or even a Teen choice award? I’m so proud of you,” Jay rants.

I laugh at his reaction to the news.

”Why is Jay smiling like that?” Lonnie asks, coming up to us.

”We get to write music for Lady Gaga,” Jay says proudly.

Lonnie’s jaw drops.

”Congratulations! You deserve it for making such good songs for her album,” Lonnie says, patting Jay’s shoulder.

”Nah, the real mastermind is Adri. Her lyrics and her voice made the songs much more beautiful,” Jay says.

I blush softly and punch his arm shyly.

”Shut up,” I mutter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Jay’s practice, we follow Lonnie to Coach Jenkin’s office.

”There's my favorite captains!” Coach says.

“Oh shush, we know we’re good,” I say with a smirk.

I first bump Lonnie.

”Speaking of Captains, I got word of your schedule changes,” He says, pointing to me and Jay.

”Even though these changes have been made, I still think you’d be able to advise your teams. Especially you, Jay, since Ben is out of action,” Coach explains.

”Are you promoting me?” Jay asks.

”I’m making you Captain of the Tourney team, Jay,” Coach says.

Jay’s jaw drops.

”No way,” Jay says in shock.

“Looks like things are looking up, JJ,” I say with a smile.

Jay’s mouth morphs into a smirk.

”Damn right,” He says.

Coach gives us a soft smile.

”You guys can celebrate or something, but on Monday, I expect you all to adjust,” Coach says.

”Yeah,” We all agree.

Suddenly, the announcements go off.

”Adri Ababwa, please report to Fairy Godmother’s office,” The announcement says.

”Did you get your skateboard taken again?” Jay asks.

”How many times are you gonna get that thing confiscated?” Lonnie asks, rolling her eyes.

”It’s in my locker, chill. I have no idea,” I say, getting up from my seat.

I walk through the door and walk to the office.

I walk into the headmistress’s office and I see Mal and Ben with Fairy Godmother.

”Long time no see,” I say to Ben and Mal.

”Glad you’re here,” Ben says, hugging me.

”We called you here because Mal has a proposal for you,” Fairy Godmother explains.

“Rogers stepped down from his position,” Mal says.

My smile fades. Steve Rogers? Family friend, Avengers, Steve?

”Steve stepped down from Captain? Why?” I ask.

“He and Tony had a dispute after Voltron in Germany. I’ve tried to keep a temporary position since Uma came into the Isle, but we need more troops. I think you’d be the best for it because of your powers and experience. And plus, you're already trusted on the court,” Mal explains.

”Mal, I’d be honored to. But I have to find a way to fit it into my schedule. The only free time I have is around now,” I say.

”So, then you can clock in at 5 and finish at 8,” Ben says.

”It's an intensive training role. You’d pick up recruits, train them, and go to the dungeons,” Ben says.

”Not bad,” I think.

”Fine, I’ll do it,” I say.

”Thank you so much,” Mal says with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walk into the base of operations and spot a familiar face. Bucky Barnes, Steve’s best friend, and newest Avenger.

”Hey, metal arm,” I joke.

”Thank god you’re here,” Bucky says, spotting me.

He gives me a side hug.

”What the hell is wrong with Steve?” I ask him.

”Steve doesn’t agree with the new laws set by Rhodes and the Marshall. Since Sokovia, they wanna add restrictions on our powers because of the explosion and because of that telekinesis girl,” Bucky says.

”I mean they did destroy the city too,” I mention.

”The reason for Tony’s nightmares,” Bucky recalls.

”He has nightmares?” I ask.

”Yeah, if Loki ever comes back, he’ll have a malfunction,” Bucky says.

”Let’s hope that his arc reactor surgery saves him,” I say.

Bucky laughs, remembering he doesn’t have a heart.

”Anyways, let me show you around. So, this is the center of the base, here we have our tanks, our fake grenades, our armory, and training center,” Bucky explains.

”And the troops?” I ask.

”I think that’s your job to cause the first commotion,” Bucky says, handing me a grenade.

”Watch this, grandpa,” I say, taking the grenade from his hands.

I toss the grenade into a group of guys.

They all huddle near the grenade trying to cover it and push each other away.

”Hey! What the hell are you sons if bitches doing? If you see an enemy grenade, you take cover!” I yell.

”The hell is this bitch?” One of the guys asks.

”Bitch? I’m not anyone’s bitch, and for the record, I’m your new Captain,” I say.

The troops all mutter and scoff at each other.

”Go home, kid! You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re gonna train us,” Another guy says.

”What’re your names?” I ask the guys.

They both look at me like I’m dumb.

”I’m Jack. This is Lio,” Jack says.

”I’m promoting you,” I say.

They both look at each other in shock.

”Both of you are now my Lieutenants. You’re gonna spend the majority of training by my side. Whoever are Lieutenants, you’re demoted. If there’s anything I know about being a soldier, you’d fight any fight or anyone to make it to the top. As I train each of you, you must be following my direct orders only. I will watch you all carefully and see if any of you demonstrate proper soldiers' skills. That will determine if you are my second in command. New recruits will all be promoted in place of older ones. As long as you keep up with your task, you’re safe. Any bullshit, you’re out, understand?” I say.

”Yes ma’am,” The Troops say.

I grab a sword from a barrel and I throw it at Lio.

”Get to work,” I order.

The troops go to their assigned positions and Lio and Jack come towards me.

”Who the hell are y-“ Lío starts.

”Bro, that's Adri Ababwa,” Jack explains.

”The artist?” Lio asks.

“Yeah, I’m a huge fan and I’m so fucking sorry about the way I acted earlier,” Jack apologizes.

”It’s fine, I don’t take shit personally. At least anymore,” I say.

”Bruh, you called her a bitch,” Lio comments.

”Shut up,” Jack mutters.

”Listen, I can already tell you two are friends. So please make this easy for me and shut the fuck up and listen,” I say honestly.

”You know you remind me a lot of Rogers,” Jack says.

”We’re friends,” I say.

”You’re friends with Steve Rogers?” Lio asks.

”Yes, now listen up. We’re gonna do some tactical work. You’re gonna go through the grass here with your rifles, your gonna shoot three birds and bring them to me. Got it?” I order.

”Yes ma’am,” They say.

They then pick up their rifles and crouch through the grass.

They miss every shot when birds pass by. One of them lands on Lio’s head and he coos the bird. I roll my eyes at his action. Then, Jack shoots two birds at once. My eyes widen at his shot. They fall into the grass and he picks them up. Lio shoots a bird and it falls slowly.

”That's one big bird,” Lio comments.

As it falls to the ground I notice it’s not a bird.

“Are fucking stupid? That’s a human, not a bird!” Jack shouts.

I run quickly under the person and they fall in my arms.

”Angel? Jesus, are you okay?” I realize.

The metal winged man winces in pain. I realize his hip is bleeding.

”Lio, what the hell is wrong with you? You shot him in the ribs,” I say.

I place him in the grass and reach for Jack’s medkit. He hands it to me and I open it up. I take a pair of tweezers and some alcohol.

”Sit still,” I advise.

I pry the bullet from his hip slowly and Angel grits his teeth from the pain. The bullet comes out cleanly and I put alcohol on the wound and wrap it up.

”Can you fly?” I ask him.

”Sure,” Angel says.

He uses his wings to fly up straight.

”Now who the fuck mistook me for a hunting duck?” Angel asks.

Jack points to Lio.

”Come on, man,” Lío says exasperatedly to Jack.

”Terrible shot,” Angel comments.

Then he takes the gun from Lio’s hand and shoots a bird. The shot is clean and the bird falls quickly to the grass.

”That's how you shoot,” Angel says, picking up the bird from the grass.

He’s good. And he’s got those wings too.

“Hey, Angel? You got anything to do after school?” I ask him.

”No,” He scoffs.

”Would you be interested in being a troop?” I ask him.

”What?” Lio and Jack ask.

”Well, I’ve got nothing else to do,” Angel says.

I smirk and pat his shoulder.

Later, I give Angel his new uniform and make him another Lieutenant. We continue tactical shooting until sunset.

I then search the premises of the base and look at the other troops. They whisper and smirk as I pass by. Some troops, practice grenade launching, shooting positions, fencing. I think to myself:

”Maybe this is something Jay would be interested in hearing.”

I smirk to myself as I think about how successful Jay has been so far in his time in Auradon. I walk into the training center and spot Bucky talking to a troop.

”Hey, how was your first day?” Bucky asks.

”Could’ve been better, but it means progress,” I say with a soft smile.

”Good to know you’re a hard hitter instead of a soft princess. Kind of like your mom,” Bucky says.

”Don’t mention me and my mom in the same sentence, you 100-year-old soldier. That’s like putting you and Steve in the same sentence about ice,” I say, rolling my eyes.

”Shut the hell up,” Bucky says punching my arm with his regular fist.

”You ever punch me with your vibranium arm, I will kill you,” I warn.

Bucky laughs and leaves me alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day at school, Angel and I decided to sit together at lunch. We talk about training and new things I could teach the troops. As we talk about ammunition I spot Jay talking to Ruby Fitzherberg, Rapunzel’s daughter. I see her pressing upon him and twirling her blonde hair. Jay uncomfortably tries to walk away.

”Oh god,” I say, rolling my eyes.

”God what?” Angel asks me.

”Jay is with Ruby,” I say.

”Ruby? The girl who slept with five guys at once? You better scoop your man before she gets him,” Angel advises.

”How do you know that?” I ask.

”What? I’m gay. Of course, I know,” Angel explains.

My eyes widen at his words.

”Huh?” I ask dumbfoundedly.

”I said what I said, I’m gay,” Angel says.

I blink in confusion and stand up from the bench.

I walk over to Jay and Ruby and sling my arm around his shoulder.

“Hey guys,” I say.

”Adri! Nice to see you after you dealt with Angel in the theatre,” Ruby says.

”You were there? I didn’t see you or hear your annoying voice,” I say with a smirk.

”I was just asking Jay whether or not he likes my new hair,” Ruby says flirtatiously towards Jay, ignoring my words.

”Um, it looks the same,” I say.

”That’s what I said,” Jay agrees.

”Come on, I cut it 4 inches!” Ruby says playfully hitting Jay’s arm.

”Excuse me, can you not put your hands on him?” I ask her.

”Why not?” Ruby asks.

”It’s super clear that he’s uncomfortable,” I say.

”No he’s not,” Ruby replies bitterly.

Ruby turns to Jay.

”Adri, can we go?” Jay asks.

”Gladly,” I say through gritted teeth.

I grab Jay’s arm and we walk back to my table.

”Who’s this?” Jay asks, seeing Angel.

”This is Lieutenant Angel, the guy Ruby was talking about,” I say.

”Jay. Jay Farr, I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Adri,” Jay says.

”I’ve heard a lot about you too,” Angel says.

”Anyways, you saw what I saw right?” I ask Angel.

”Um, obviously. Ruby has absolutely no self-control. Hey, I’m gay by the way and if you ever and I mean EVER dump her, you’re either getting a Louboutin heel to the face or a date with me,” Angel says.

I scoff at his remarks.

”What? He’s hot,” Angel compliments.

”Thanks, man but I have plans with this girl so...no thanks,” Jay says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

”Like I was saying, Ruby thinks she is all preppy and cool when she’s totally out of line for that shit,” I say to Angel.

”What did she do exactly?” Jay asks, peeking in the conversation.

”She was flirting with you- anyways I try to be sane one...”

”And you’re complaining why?” Jay asks in between my words.

Angel snickers to himself. I glare at Jay.

”You. Are. Mine. End of story,” I say through gritted teeth.

Jay laughs to himself after I speak.

“Jeez, you’re jealous! I didn’t actually think you’d slide into the conversation because of that,” Jay laughs.

”With your tendencies, it was so obvious that you were uncomfortable but when I walked over you played into it! It was so clear,” I say frustratedly.

Jay continues to laugh at my responses. I look over at Angel and rolls his eyes.

”She feels like your toying with her and she doesn’t like it,” Angel blurts out.

Jay stops laughing and his smile drops. He turns to see me.

I play with the underside of my nail, trying not to look at Jay.

”Is that true?” Jay asks.

”I don’t know. Maybe I just feel like at any moment you could be suddenly interested in some other girl who’s better than I am,” I mutter.

Jay puts a hand on my thigh and I turn to face him.

”Baby, why would I make plans with you if I didn’t love you or care about you enough to stay with you?” Jay asks.

I blush lightly and shrug.

”It’s because I think your worth every minute of my life,” Jay says sincerely.

I smile softly and I kiss his cheek.

”That's cute,” Angel says.

”Shut up,” I giggle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month later,

”Tell me something, boy. Aren’t you tired try to- Fuck what rhymes with that?” I sing, stopping mid-way to think.

”Void?” Stefani suggests.

”Damn it, why is it so hard to write a love song without having the word love in it?” I ask exasperatedly.

”Cause it’s impossible?” Jay suggests.

”It is possible. We’ve just got two weeks to figure it out,” Stefani says, sitting back down in her chair.

Jay puts out his hand for me to pass him the guitar.

”How about we just repeat a couple of lines?” Jay says, receiving the guitar.

“Tell me something, boy, aren’t you tired of trying to fill that void?

or do you need more?” He starts.

”Aint it hard keeping it so hardcore?” Stefani finishes.

”Yes! That’s it,” I say, writing it down.

We’re about to finish the last song of the motion picture and we’re almost done. But the lyrics keep falling apart.

”Maybe Bradley should just come in here and help us,” I suggest.

We call in Stefani’s co-star, Bradley and he sits.

”What’s the dilemma?” He asks.

”We need more ears. So, how about it?” Jay asks.

Jay hands Bradley the guitar.

”Shit, I’ve only been in classes for a month,” Bradley hesitates.

”You can do it,” Stefani says confidently.

youtu.be/MUX4ZWkDS-s

Bradley starts to strum the chords of the song. I hand Stefani our brainstorm journal and they both look at our lyrics.

They sing the parts of the song effortlessly. At one part, Stefani improvises and nails the part.

They finish and Jay and I clap.

”That was movie magic at its finest! Now, let’s record it, mix it, and then off we go,” I say.

We all get up from our seats to start working on our parts.

Jay and I lay down the mixing and Bradley and Stefani record. And just for fun, Stefani plays a piano version and we end up recording that too.

Later that night, we come home absolutely exhausted.

I plop onto my dorm room bed and sigh. I look up at my ceiling and see the moonlight peeking through my curtain. The bed sinks and I turn to see Jay lying there next to me, looking at the curtains.

”Long days at work, huh?” Jay asks me.

”I took off training to do that, so, yes,” I say.

We both paused in silence for a minute.

”Hey,” Jay speaks up.

”Yeah?”

”Do you think we’ll get nominated for anything?” Jay asks.

”Probably,” I say, thinking out loud.

”You know. I’m glad you asked me to start making music with you. It’s like something I can remember about you...like our own special thing, you know?” Jay says.

”Yeah. By the way, Stefani was the one who asked for you. Not me,” I say.

”Really? I didn’t think that would ever happen,” Jay says in surprise.

I chuckle at his reaction. I turn to my side and wrap my arm around his body. He does the same, pulling me closer to his chest by gripping my waist.

”Baby, where do you see us in the next year?” Jay asks.

I furrow my brows in confusion.

”I mean. Do you think we’ll be together after senior year next year?” Jay asks.

”I mean, we’ve had no problems with our career schedules so far. Sure we had the situation with Lonnie but luckily I’m that wasn’t real,” I say.

Jay laughs at my recollection.

”I’m sorry for that,” Jay chuckles.

”I know. Anyways, I actually believe we could be traveling, making songs, doing couples interviews and photoshoots, and maybe I can have you come to Agrabah and convince my parents to help us get married?” I suggest.

”Married? You wanna marry me?” Jay asks.

”I mean, we need a new heir in the bloodline. And I don’t think Aziz wants to settle down or rule the kingdom yet,” I say.

Jay chuckles to himself for a minute. He scoops down and places a kiss on my forehead.

”Why can’t we do that now then?” Jay asks.

My eyes widen at his words. I blink twice adjusting to his reaction.

”You wanna do all that now?” I ask him.

”Why not? If that means I get to spend the rest of my life with your crazy ass? Definitely,” Jay agrees.

A smile morphs on my face and I jump up to get my phone.

I dial my mom’s number.

”Ma, it’s Adri. We’ve gotta make some plans...”

3,858 words

#marvel #marvel x oc #descendants #descendants jay #descendants x oc #descendants novels #fanfiction #multifandom #loki #son of jafar #descendants 2 #descendants 3 #loki x reader #jay x reader

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amarantine-amirite · 3 years

Text

Back To December, a Timothy Goes To School Fanfiction

Summary: Fritz pranks a classmate

Frank and Frank were bored at school. They wanted to go home early today. The older Frank looked around the classroom and spotted two things: the clock and the chalkboard eraser. The boys had seen on TV that they could throw the erasers at the clock to get it to jump ahead. Hopefully, they could get it to jump far enough ahead to trip the going home bell. Then, they could go home early.

They hatched their plan during quiet reading time. The younger Frank snuck over to the blackboard to pick up the eraser while the older Frank watched for Mrs. Jenkins. Success! The younger Frank got the eraser. He picked it up, aimed for the clock, and threw it like a baseball.

The eraser fell on Hazel‘s desk. The chalk dust from the eraser triggered her asthma. Hazel reached for her inhaler, pushed down the button, and got a sweet cherry jam-filled asthma experience that she would never forget.

Her eyes widened. She started to sweat. She took one look at the jam and thought, Jesus Christ, is that blood? “Mrs. Jenkins!“ Hazel screamed, “I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding!”

Mrs. Jenkins swooped over to Hazel, scooped her up, and took her straight to the nurse's office. “What’s going on?“ The nurse asked.

“I had an asthma attack from the chalk dust, and I got my inhaler, and now I’m bleeding!” Hazel said as she shook, “Am I going to die?” Tears began to well in her eyes.

The nurse picked up the inhaler. She studied it. “You’re not going to die, Hazel," she said in a reassuring tone, “in fact, you’re not even bleeding.” She felt the jam between her fingers. “Your inhaler seems to be full of cherry jam.”

Mrs. Jenkins looked at Hazel with a confused look on her face. “How did you get jam in your inhaler, Hazel?” she asked.

“It was probably Frank and Frank!“ Hazel scowled. She folded her arms and her bottom lip popped out. “They're always doing stuff like that. They think they’re funny, but they’re just mean. They're meanies!”

Except, Hazel had it wrong. It wasn’t Frank and Frank. It was Fritz who put the jam in her inhaler.

He got away with it, too. Unlike the Franks, who spent recess sitting in the principal's office; Timothy and Fritz spent recess building a snowman in the schoolyard. “Hey Timothy,” Fritz asked, “can you pass me those bones?” He gestured to the duffel bag full of plastic bones his family would put out on the lawn for Halloween.

Timothy furrowed his brow. “Why?” he asked.

Fritz tried not to laugh. “When spring comes and our snowman melts, everyone will see the bones and think he was real.” He chuckled that deep, throaty chuckle that sounds like the dog before it throws up. “Won’t that be funny?”

Timothy seemed unsure about Fritz’s plan. He felt more than a little perturbed by Fritz’s behaviour as of late. Sure, there was that whole Mess Fairy nonsense from the beginning of the school year, but the Mess Fairy was different. The Mess Fairy started with Fritz leaving a wake of disarray and chaos in the name of science, but the Franks jumped on it and took everything way too far. Fritz, and Fritz alone, put jam in Hazel’s inhaler. “Fritz, did it occur to you that people might see the bones and feel scared, just like Hazel was scared when she used her inhaler and found it full of jam.”

“Oh yeah,” Fritz giggled, “that was pretty funny.”

Timothy started to grow concerned. “Not for Hazel. When we go inside, you should apologize to her.”

Fritz got downright prickly. He lurched forward and pinned his ears back. “I'm sick of saying sorry,” he said, slightly bearing his teeth.

“I'm serious, Fritz; this isn’t like you.” Timothy said with a small twinge of sadness, “Why are you doing this?”

The jig was up. Fritz had a secret. He’d be moving away soon. He knew neither when his family would leave, nor did he know where they would go. All he knew was that his days at Hilltop School were numbered. Thankfully, he knew more numbers than his peers.

Fritz took a deep breath and told Timothy the truth. “Timothy, I’ve never told anyone this, but I won't be going to school here next year, so let’s laugh a little before I’m gone.”

Timothy stood there in shock. He blinked. His eyes went like saucers. He didn’t know how to process what he’d just heard.

@clxudburst

#writing #writers on tumblr #timothy goes to school #fanfic #fanfic writers on tumblr #fanfiction

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pollylynn · 4 years

Photo

Title: With One Blow WC: 1200

There’s something wrong with his hand. There has been something wrong with his hand since his completely reckless, unsanctioned, solo run-in with Ilya Golovkin in a dark alley.

He’d blown it off the night of—It’s nothing. A little cut—and she’d let it go. She’d pretended not to notice him wincing, shifting his wine glass carefully to his left hand, getting up in the middle of the night to root around for ibuprofen.

The cut is gone now. It’s healed up, and the skin there on his knuckles is just a little pink in certain lights. But there’s still something wrong with his hand.

He’s writing again, so that’s good, but his already eclectic typing style has taken a hit. He’s left-hand heavy and noticeably slower, even when she can see from the furrow in his brow and the rapid back and forth of his eyes over the page that the words are trying to fight their way out of his head. He’s only good for shorter stints, and he’s crotchety as hell in between them, because he’s in pain. Because there’s something wrong with his hand.

He denies it when anyone brings it up. He scoffs and does a dramatic rendition of the Itsy Bitsy Spider when Alexis raises the issue of the glasses he’s dropped, the coffee he’s sloshed, the yelp he lets out when she slaps his hand away from the potato chips he’s trying to poach from her. He dices garlic up, rapid fire and with considerable flair when Martha observes that he seems a little clumsy with the utensils, too, and he challenges Ryan and Esposito to endless rounds of paper football when they razz him about his penmanship on the board.

She—Kate—doesn’t bring it up, even though he can hardly hold his toothbrush, and he’s up two or three times a night, rummaging for ibuprofen, or just sitting in his office with his right hand cradled in his left. She hasn’t brought it up since the night of. It’s kind of a weird thing, because there’s obviously something wrong with it. He’s obviously in pain, but she can’t seem to call him on it, even though he’s being an idiot. She can’t seem to bring it up even though everyone else does.

It finally comes up when he burns her. She’s gotten home late. He’s insisted on making her tea, not just a cup—a proper pot, steeped to perfection. He’s doing penance for being crotchety earlier. He’s making up for snapping at her in the middle of the bullpen, then vacating the premises, trailing a mumbled apology behind him. He’s being fussy and courtly and making up an actual tray in case madame would like to take her tea in bed.

She is softening in the face of the attention. She’s smiling at his goofy routine, but she just wants a cup—a damned chunky, practical mug she can take four sips from while she slides down the headboard with weariness and ultimately passes out..

“I mean it, Castle.” She makes a grab for the fancy, thin-walled tea cup he’s rustled up from God knows where.

The move startles him as he turns to pour water just off the boil. The kettle rocks in his bad hand and the water splashes over hers, all the way across her knuckles. There’s an airless moment that’s beyond silence. She stares down in shock. His mouth gapes soundlessly open as he swings around, thrusting the kettle from him.

The clang of it on the burner, the hiss of water splashing on hot metal breaks the spell. She cries out. She makes a reflexive fist, which is absolutely the wrong thing to do.

“Kate,” he makes a lunge for her and tugs her to the sink. “Kate, my God, I am so sorry.” He yanks the tap on most of the way to cold and reaches for wounded hand.

“Why are you being an idiot?” She snatches it away from him. She holds her loose-curled fingers against her chest, away from the cool running water, even though it hurts. It fucking hurts. “Why?”

“Kate, I—” His mouth opens and closes. There’s no Itsy Bitsy Spider. There’s no performance. There’s nothing, and this is such a stupid fight.

“You hurt it.” She relents. She inches her hand toward him, hissing and scowling at even the gentle stream of water as it makes contact with the scalded skin. “Yours, not mine.”

“Yours, too,” he says mournfully. He whispers sorry, sorry as he shifts her hand slightly to make sure the water is trickling over the entire angry red expansion of skin. “I hurt your hand.”

“You did,” she tells him through clenched teeth. “So you owe me. What happened?”

He hangs his head and studies the backs of his fingers as he flexes them as best he can. “I punched him.”

“Golovkin?” Her spine straightens, it shifts the burn over the loose hold he has on her hand. It’s not the wisest move she’s ever made. “Castle tell me you did not punch a—”

“Jenkins,” he cuts in. “Whatever his name is. I punched him for making me miss our wedding.”

She laughs. It jostles her hand again and it turns into a pained yodel. He whispers a million more sorries, but he keeps her hand in the stream of water. And she keeps laughing as she pictures the scene—a dead Russian assassin, Jenkins with this silenced pistol, Castle with the sucker punch right jab and a witty bon mot, no doubt.

“You left that out,” she says when the laughter finally dies away. “I got all the other details.” She frowns, wondering suddenly. “I better have gotten all the other details.”

“You did.” He slides his fingers into her hair and carefully pulls her to him for a kiss. “All the details.”

“So?” She reaches for his wounded hand. She runs her thumb as gentle as she can over the last knuckle. He’s stoic, but she can tell it’s tender, a little swollen and maybe even off line with the rest of his hand. “Why hold it back?”

“Dumb ending,” he says to the kitchen floor. “It’s a dumb ending.”

She knows what he means. She knows how inadequate the sketchy details are, and however many lives he might have saved, she knows he still hasn’t made his peace with he question of how he could have agreed to go. She knows that a closed-fist jab and a probable boxer’s fracture are a shitty denouement, but this is what they have. It’s what they have and she’s sure as hell take it over the alternatives.

“I don’t know.” She reaches past him for a tea towel. She runs it under the cool water and wrings it out, awkward and one-handed. He takes it from her and folds into a workable compress. She takes him by the hand—the good hand—and leads him toward the bedroom. “Did you knock out a tooth?”

“Beckett,” he looks at her, sidelong, “if I had knocked out a tooth, I would be wearing it around my neck on a manly leather thong.” A/N: I always find this episode hard to enter into. The boxer’s fracture is dumb, but maybe less dumb than biscuits for Cujo, which seemed to be my other option.Hmm.

images via kissthemgoodbye

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 7 #Castle: Sleeper #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Martha Rodgers #Alexis Castle #Kevin Ryan #Javier Esposito #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Hmm

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