#no real thought behind that one just like a neat headcannon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urisk-factor · 3 years

Text

Ok I wanted to throw out a few of my own Heartless Headcannons, entirely the Jury, mostly Dock. TW for blood, mentions of animal testing, dead corpses, rats, organs, violence, and stuff that Dock would do. I'm just gonna tag this as body horror because I guess that counts. Oh and I headcannon Dock and Alastor as married too, sorry (not sorry), I don't make the rules.

Dock once, a month or two after graduating from medical school, got really drunk and blacked out. In the morning, he found a giant teddy bear and a human body in his room, with the organs from the human in the teddy, and the stuffing from the teddy in the human. He has no idea what happened that night and has no idea how he did it or where he got the teddy, let alone the body.

Bandy somehow knows everything before it's public. He knew that Alastor and Dock are married, he knew about Heartless, he knew about Lance's stash of "chewed items", he knew about Lorelei's black swan dress, and he knew about Diana's pet owl.

Anyways, like I said, Diana has a pet owl that she took care of since his mother left him. He's call Ben, and she likes saying stuff like "Ben killed and ate a mouse that I've been trying to shoot for weeks, he's a good boy, bless his heart" to people she's just met but have warmed up to enough to speak.

Lorelei sometimes calls Dock her "skirt buddy" to annoy him and he just accepts it.

Dock really hates animal testing, and once beat a guy to an inch of his life for testing drugs on rats. He took the rats and he still has them. They're old and well looked after.

Alastor once got so annoyed with a guy who was somehow bigger than Dock that he climbed up Dock's cloak, sat himself on Dock's shoulders, and started berating the man. Lorelei, Lance, and Bandy got in on video camera.

Their curses come from heavily repressed magic.

Their ages are Lance and Bandy at twenty-nine (29), Lorelei at thirty-two (32), Diana at thirty-seven (37), Alastor at thirty-nine (39), and Dock at fourty-three (43).

Dock's real name isn't actually Dock, but is instead Daniel Harrowmoore. Daniel Harrowmoore may or may not be wanted for arson. All Dock will say is that it was an accident.

Diana is somewhere between craving physical touch and hating physical touch at all times.

They leave notes on the fridge. The only ones who can read Dock's atrocious hand writing (it's the doctor hand writing) is Alastor because he's so familiar with doctor hand writing, and Diana because she made a code for it.

Following on from that last one, Lance once wrote "okay I am convinced that you're not even writing words anymore" under one of Dock's notes.

Lorelei has handwriting so neat and curvy and pretty that it's almost as impossible to read as Dock's, not quite though.

Lance, Lorelei, and Alastor are cat people, Bandy and Diana are dog people, and Dock just really loves animals of all kinds, especially if they're considered unlucky or horrible or something.

They have this sort of truck thing, with three seets in the front, three in the back, and then the boot. In the front, Diana drives (she's the only one who can drive), Dock navigates, and Alastor sits between them and helps Dock sometimes. In the back, Lorelei, Lance, and Bandy all sing show showtunes and get on the front three's nerves.

Well that's not totally true. When Dock was in his twenties, he had a motorcycle, but it was stolen and he never got it back.

Alastor is the only one allowed to hug Dock and vice versa. They're very affectionate towards each other, with Dock often coming up behind Alastor, wrapping his arms around Alastor's chest, and wresting his head on Alastor's. Alastor is a bit more nervous but will sometimes just zoom over to Dock and cling to his side.

Alastor's coat used to be Dock's. When Alastor first met Dock, it was really cold, in the middle of a snowstorm, in a giant city, alone, at twenty-one (21), at approximately three o'clock in the morning. He was walking down the street, shivering, when Dock just happened to leave a small twenty-four hour store, saw Alastor, and just went, "yup, small, shivering, not a threat, hey I wonder if he wants this jacket? I don't need it". Dock offered it and Alastor accepted, grateful. They would meet again a few years later and Dock recognized him by the same coat.

Dock has a bad habit of working for days straight, then heading back to his room/home or wherever he sleeps and just crashes and sleeps for the rest of the week. Only a Lorelei scream can wake him.

Not really a headcannon but my mind randomly went "what if the Jury aren't witch hunters, and are instead witches, pretending to be witch hunters, to save other witches, and this whole Heartless and Co. situation was just one big misunderstanding that could easily be solved by simple communication" and I thought it was funny.

Once the paparazzi were following the Jury leaders around, to the point of it probably being a crime, so Alastor invited them into the Jury HQ and told the leaders to be as obscene and messy and dickish as possible. Dock walked in, covered head to toe in blood, with a still beating heart of unknown origins. Just imagine this giant, massive thing, probably bigger than Dock's head. So anyways, he walks in with it in his hands, walks over to the head interviewer or whatever, dumped in into his lap, and said "I hope you find it just as delicious as I do." They left incredibly quickly after that, and never even looked in the Jury's direction after that.

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

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Hi, omg I love your stuff. Could I please request a tallest red x human female? I dont really have a specific idea. Just some fluff or headcannons is fine. Thank you so much. ILY😘

Yeah, of course! There’s a lot of dialogue, but I promise there’s fluff in the end!

Everything had been going so well. Until it didn’t.

A quiet moan of pain slipped out of your mouth as you continued to stay curled in fetal position on some hard surface, most likely a floor. Experimentally, you attempted to open your eyes, only to have your vision swamped by flashing saturated colors. You screwed your eyes shut again, drowning in the disorientation. There were probably voices around you, but they reached your ears as incoherent mumblings. Apparently, humans weren’t meant for instant intergalactic teleportation across schmillions of light years.

You were unsure of how long you had been laying wherever you were, nor did you suppose it mattered. Ever since you had been mildly conscious, you had been trying to recall what exactly had happened, without much luck. However, the second you had stopped caring about the preceding events, they all hit you with the force of twenty one bullet trains.

"Behold! Doesn't it amaze you?!" A very short alien gestured wildly to a glowing portal, grinning madly as if he couldn't believe his own genius.

"Yes, Zim. It's very nice." Smiling uneasily, you nodded, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Over the years, you had learned to just agree with whatever Zim said, things went over much smoother that way. However, that didn't mean you weren't worried. Whatever Zim created tended to backfire...violently. Or explode. Or not work as intended. Or all of the above.

"Okay? But what does it even do?" The other human in the room spoke, more openly skeptic than you were. Purple light reflected off of his glasses as he shuffled through papers of calculations, which he couldn't read anyway, considering they were written in Irken. "Or, more accurately, what is it supposed to do?"

"You imply that Zim's inventions never work as they should, Dib-stink!" Zim crossed his arms and turned away from Dib, clearly less than pleased with his lack of enthusiasm.

"That's because they don't!"

"Name one time!"

"Shall we take a look in The Cabinet?" The man decked out in black and blue thrusted an arm out towards a cabinet threatening to explode with close to ten years' worth of records of failed plans. Zim growled, lunging at Dib who was bent over in laughter. Before he could get very far, you grabbed the Irken's ankle, yanking him back.

"That's enough, you two. Honestly. Act your age." The two disgruntled men grumbled complaints under their breath, but ceased their childish antics. If you hadn't known them for years, you wouldn't have believed that these two were now adults. "Now, Zim, could you kindly tell us what this thing does?" Your voice was soft and patient, hoping to set him back on track. He tended to become distracted quite often.

"Yes! It's a portal that will allow the instant transportation of anything, the range being the entire universe!" He spread his arms wide, a laugh already bubbling up in his throat. Dib groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I thought you were working on the Irken conversions so I could finish my part on the ship." You couldn't help but crack a smile. Their ship was never going to be finished at this rate.

"Yes, but this is much more important! I have an ingenious plan for it!"

"Enlighten us." Dib spoke flatly, still not convinced.

Zim pulled out a box wrapped up like a gift, complete with a neat little pink bow. "Zim will send this to my Tallest using the portal! Trust me, they'll love what's in here." Light from the portal glinted menacingly off of his teeth. The box made hushed mewling noises and began to ooze green goo.

"Is...is it alive?" Your voice was cautious. You took a step back when the box began to shake in his hands, bumping your back against one of the many machines in his lab.

"Zim, we've talked about this. The Tallest don't care, Irk has abandoned you, let it go. You know as well as I do that your mission isn't real, and that it's over." Dib sighed, not with frustration, more so pity. A few years ago when Zim had finally got it through his thick skull that his mission was a trick, it had devastated him to a point that no one had ever seen. You saw how much he needed a job, and Dib did as well. Dib had an issue with it in the beginning, but you both took him in, using his science skills to aid in Dib's personal projects. The last plan you were aware of was that the two were working on a ship of their own that would let them travel space together, something about Dib getting presentable proof of alien life while at the same time giving Zim a purpose. Zim seemed to have forgotten about Irk. Until now, at least.

"Don't worry about it! It's...a parting gift." The look in Zim's eyes brought you great discomfort. "Only a symbol of the termination of my service to the empire. That is all." His voice was pleasant enough, but you sensed some dark undertones. His fingers danced away on the controls, a dull hum echoing through the base as the portal fired up it's key functions. 'The Massive' and some coordinates became displayed on the screen above the portal, the destination locked in.

"Zim…" Dib took a step forward, as did you. "You've had plenty of bad ideas, but I think this one is going to take the cake. So just shut the thing off." Zim shrugged his concerns off, stepping closer to the portal with the box that was becoming more aggressive the closer it came. Red light emitted from a lens at the top of the portal as it scanned the box in Zim's hand.

"Scan complete. Item composition: deadly. If transported, item will cause half of the universe to implode." The voice of the computer drawled. Your eyes widened as you looked to Zim, who acted as if he didn't hear the warning. More likely, he didn't care. When did he ever? He brought his arm back as he stood in front of the portal, preparing to throw the box.

Although it happened in the course of only a split second, it all was in slow motion for you. Without thinking, you took off, sprinting across the small room and leaping at Zim, harshly shoving him and the box out of the way of the portal. You had managed to prevent the tragedy of space implosion, but unfortunately, your forward motion continued, sending you through the portal. You had heard Dib's scream, but it sounded a million miles away. Your brain couldn't comprehend what had happened during the course of the teleportation, so it put you out of your misery, allowing you to pass out.

"Ugh...Zim. Of course." You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes with closed fists. You were slouched over, and once the static finally cleared from your vision, you blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the new light. The panicked whispers from before continued, but you could now make out what they were saying.

"Did she say 'Zim'?"

"What creature is it?"

"Is it a weapon?"

Your brain finally jumpstarted, and you whipped your head around, eyes darting from one face to another. Several Irkens surrounded you, to where you couldn't see anything but a sea of green. You scooted backwards to create more room between you and the crowd, bumping into something behind you. You jerked yourself around, facing two of the tallest creatures you had ever seen. Instantly you recognized them as Zim's Almighty Tallest. They were much taller in real life than you imagined them to be. Even as an adult female standing at your full height, you knew they would tower over you. Hell, they would overtake Dib by a landslide, who now stood well over six feet. They bent over you to get a better look. After a second of silent observation, the one in purple straightened up and groaned loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Oh god, it's one of those creatures that inhabits Zim's planet!" The purple one resumed wailing madly. The one dressed in red straightened up as well, but said nothing. His red bug eyes rested on you quizzically, intrigued by your mere existence. "You! How did you get here?" The purple one pointed a long and slender finger at you, his face filled with pure terror.

"I went through Zim's portal, it was an accident-" Your voice was panicky. Almost all of the Irkens around you were riddled with anxiety, which you absorbed like a sponge.

"So, Zim sent you!" The purple one just loved to shout, didn't he? You wondered if this was a common trait among Irkens.

"No! It-"

"He sent you for malicious purposes! Like, to, uh...to annoy us into oblivion! Yeah!" So, the purple one was a moron. Good to know. Nevertheless, the crowd of Irkens began mumbling, as if you were trapped in a high energy court room.

"This is all a big misunderstanding, now maybe you could just...drop me off at home, or maybe send me with an escape pod or something-"

"To the dungeons with her!" The purple one screeched, yet again pointing a finger at you.

"Yes, My Tallest!" Two guards came up to you with taser spears, and you concluded it would be best not to fight. You had been electrocuted with high voltage electricity in Zim's lab once on accident, and it did not feel pleasant. A sigh fell from your lips as each guard took an arm, dragging you to the dungeons of The Massive while cheers rose from the Irken crowd.

"I swear, I will kill Zim when I get my hands on him." You muttered, tossing a coin you had in your pocket against the wall for the four thousandth time. You sat on the floor of your cell, the cold concrete making you shiver. The wall that pressed against your back was the same. There wasn't even a cot in there. Iron bars with buzzing electricity fields between them blocked your exit.

"That's not the first time I've heard that in here." A voice floated toward your ears, however it was muffled by the surrounding concrete.

"Who are you?" You had assumed you were alone in there. After all, how often could you possibly use a dungeon on an armada flagship?

"I'm Deek. I think. Honestly, I've been here so long I can't even remember." The voice, which sounded male, giggled. "Anyway, what are you in here for?"

"Not sure. Trespassing, maybe? The more accurate term would be a kneejerk reaction. What about you?"

"Being annoying. I guess."

"Shit, really? I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's better than being tossed out the airlock." You ceased throwing the coin. Decidedly, Irken society seemed to be hell in space. "In fact, they just threw Jix out last week. Poor gal." Deek's voice held a tinge of sadness. Images flashed through your mind of your body being launched into space. That wasn't how you had envisioned dying. You shuddered.

The sound of a door opening and steps approaching your cell caused every muscle in your body to tense. You vaguely wondered if it was your turn for death by airlock. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling yourself into a ball with your face between your knees, not wanting to see who had stopped in front of your cell.

"So..." The voice was level and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of before. Cautiously, you lifted your head, opening your eyes. At your level, you could only see a long crimson skirt. Pushing yourself up to a standing position, you still had to crane your neck to see his face. The red Tallest stood before you, a bored expression plastered on his face.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Uh..." He almost seemed surprised that you had asked that. Even still, you wouldn't take any chances.

"You shouldn't kill me! Just, you know, reverse engineer the phenomena or something and teleport me back! Or even send me in an escape pod! Humans, uhm, we cause massive explosions when killed! Yeah! So you'd destroy yourself in the process." If he had sensed you were lying, he didn't care. However, he did look puzzled by your desperate reaction.

"What? No, I'm not here to kill you." He let out a massive sigh, bending over to look you in the eye. "I'm just bored. There's only so much of Purple's antics I can take at a time." Your shoulders relaxed in immediate relief.

"Wait, his name is Purple? Let me guess, your name is Red?" That was such a strange notion to you. Every other Irken you had heard of all had such bizarre names, and apparently these two just went by Red and Purple.

"Yeah? So? Also, it's Tallest to you." The threatening tone inserted into his words was half-hearted at best.

"Can't I call you Red? I'm not Irken."

"I don't think so, short-thing."

"Why not? And I'm not short! You're just tall. Plus, my name is Y/n. Not short-thing." You huffed, unconsciously shifting to stand on your toes, increasing your height by maybe an inch at the most. He seemed to appreciate his height being acknowledged, so he relented.

"Fine, do what you want." Red continued to stare at you, almost as if he couldn't quite understand what you were. You didn't blame him, the circumstance had been kind of sudden. Plus, he hadn't heard from Zim in years. Most likely, everyone had assumed him to be dead.

"You said you were bored? I'll have you know, I can be quite entertaining! So maybe you could, I dunno, get me out of here?" Your lips lifted in a sweet smile, hoping Irkens could be swayed by charm. There was a second of silence as he mulled the idea over. On one hand, it would give him something to do besides eat and blow things up. On the other, if anyone saw, many questions would arise. Despite his concerns, curiosity won out. With his two thin fingers, he tapped a code into a keypad on the wall. There was a dying buzz as the electricity stopped flowing and the iron bars were lifted. There was a part of you that was amazed that he actually let you out. You stepped out, watching his face to make sure he wasn't bluffing about sparing your life. Not a muscle in his body so much as twitched, hell, you weren't even sure if he was breathing. You didn't know how he could with a waist like that. "So, what now?"

"I thought you said you were the master of fun?"

"I said I was entertaining, not the master of fun. But, I dunno, we could start by getting out of here. Space prison kind of kills the vibe."

"Fine." Red began walking, well, hovering down the hall. He did not look back to see if you were following, and you had to jog to catch up. "Oh, and this isn't space prison, that's Moo-Ping 10. This is more like space holding."

"There's a difference?"

"Oh yeah." You were sure you were both still in the belly of the ship, considering you never once went up a flight of stairs. However, you had exited the dungeon area, and emerged into a more open room. There were some tables and chairs, and the room was lit by white florescent lights. Everything else within the room was some shade of pink. Occasionally, he would take a quick glance around, as if to make sure no one was watching. Was he supposed to be down here? If he was a supreme leader of society, you weren't sure why it mattered where he was or who he was with.

"What is this place?" You finally asked as he took a seat in a chair, chin resting in his hand. His glances in your direction were fleeting and infrequient, almost as if he were embarrassed to be intrigued by something so short.

"Not sure. An unused dining hall maybe?" Satisfied with his answer, you took a seat next to him. Taking the opportunity to look him up and down, youwere confused by his anatomy. He was built differently than every Irken you had ever seen. You pointed to his impossibly skinny waist.

"How?" You opted for that phrasing, as you were unsure if 'is that natural?' would have been rude.

"Hm? Oh. Corset." His answers to everything were quick and simple. Even still, you couldn't help but stare in wonder.

"Doesn't it hurt?" You assumed having a corset tightened to such an extreme would be incredibly painful, but he only shrugged without a care.

"You get used to it. It's all part of being Tallest, just as is losing your thumbs." A smirk etched its way onto his face at your horrfied expression as his wiggled his two fingers through the gauntlet on his arm. Subconsciously you rubbed your thumbs, lips pursed in a tight line. "You're a curious little thing."

"You act like I'm a child! I'm a grown woman, thank you very much." You may still have been young by human standards, but you had still made it over the age of 18, so technically, you were an adult. Red chuckled at your pouting, as you had just proven his point unintentionally. A ghost of a smile was present on his face. Was he actually enjoying himself? You decided to switch gears. "The whole dynamic of Irk is strange."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"It's like one big military." Red snickered, unable to stop the chuckle that rose from his chest.

"Of course it is. That's kind of our whole thing." He lifted a hand, trying to gesture to the armada as a whole.

"Oh, yeah. Right." Another silence fell between you two. It was rather difficult for you as a human to comprehend Irken society. It all just seemed so...foreign. So static and stiff.

Red was the first to speak again. "Tell me then. What's Earth like?" Excitedly, you sat up in your chair, eyes shining.

"Well, people still respect each other, sometimes anyway, but everyone is less stiff with each other. There's more kindness. Now, don't get me wrong, there are many who are full of hate and lots of people fight all the time, but it's still less so than Irk. Plus, height isn't such a huge deal. And there's relationships." Your words came out quickly, hands moving to accentuate your thoughts.

"Relationships?" If Red had eyebrows, they would be raised in questioning. His voice was laced with suspicion, as if he didn't trust the concept.

"Yeah! All different kinds. Familial, platonic, romantic, etc. You know, parents, siblings, friends, that kind of thing...usually, they're all based on love. And, no offense, but there seems to be an absence of that here." You had heard it from Zim many times before. Irkens can't feel love, they trust no one and all that. On some level, you doubted that to be true, rather it was more of a choice, that maybe they were told that love is a sign of weakness so they chose not to feel anything at all.

"Love...?" Red spit out the word as if it burned his tongue. Clearly, love was not a well thought of concept in Irken culture. After a moment, he appeared to recall something. "I think I remember something that happened years ago...Zim called about some romantic experiment he was running on some girl. Said it was very pain-based. This is something humans find...pleasant?" Waving your hands you shook your head in a clear 'no'. No wonder Red was concerned by the idea of love.

"No! Not unless you're a masochist anyway. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but that's not what love is."

His tone showed that he was still mildly disgusted with the topic, but nevertheless, he proceeded to ask for further clarification. "Then what is it?" Red was never very interested when Zim had been reporting ten-ish years ago, but now that he had a subject sitting right in front of him, the idea became somewhat exciting.

"Like, romantic love?" You asked, a small part of you hoping he was asking about platonic love instead. You weren't entirely sure how to explain romance to a species who understood nothing but pain and hierarchy. Red nodded, asking you to go on. You breathed out a relenting sigh, struggling for the right words to explain it. "Romance is...uhm…it's when..." Red peered at you expectantly, crimson eyes wide and inquisitive. Finally, you came up with something. "It's when you like someone very much, and you would do almost anything for them." He nodded slowly, looking as if he was beginning to grasp it.

"Like pledging your loyalty?" Loyalty was a thing Irkens could understand thoroughly.

"Yeah, like that! And you want to do lots of stuff together! Spend time together and all that. There's also physical affection." His head cocked to the side, similar to a puppy.

"Physical affection?"

"Ye...Yeah...!" Your feet shifted on the floor as you clutched the hem of your shirt between your fingers. You couldn't help but feel nervous under his gaze. Your face flushed as he stared out at you through half-lidded eyes, overly fixated on the topic of physical affection.

"What's that?" Once again, his voice was as even as could be. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin, enjoying the way you were acting. It was quite amusing to him. You suddenly regretted bringing up the subject of romance.

"Like, examples?" Swallowing hard, your fingers began to drum on the table. How were you possibly supposed to describe it to him? He certainly wouldn't know what a hug or a kiss was. "I don't think I can exactly describe it to you..." You hoped he would leave it at that and move on.

Of course that wasn't the case. That was the problem with Irkens. Once they found a way to make you squirm, they would push until it was no longer fun. "Then show it to me." His response was quick, zero hesitation. He looked completely satisfied, for once not feeling that familiar dull, almost constant ache of boredom. You weren't sure about it at first, but the longer he looked at you with that smug expression, the more determined you became to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Fine." Irkens are touch-starved creatures. It wouldn't take anything too extreme to accomplish what you wanted. You stood up, moving over to plant yourself right in his lap. Taking his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his two, pressing your face into his chest. "Humans do things like cuddle and hold hands." His heartbeat was similar to a human's, the rhythym just slightly different. This close, you could hear the soft hum of his PAK. With your free hand, you traced indescribable shapes into his chest. If you were to look up, you would have seen his antennae twitching. Already, you had accomplished what you had set out to. He was no longer teasing or overconfident. Although he would never admit it, he was content with the attention. As you continued to draw random nothingness, Red let out what sounded like a low purr, the sound sending a pleasant rumble through his chest and against your skin. A series of quiet chirps followed, and you had to assume he was satisfied. You couldn't help but giggle, and at the time, the uncertainty of how you would get home was the furthest thing from your mind.

"Do humans do anything else?" Red attempted to suppress the spark in his voice, but was wildly unsuccessful. His tone was the farthest thing from passive. You let go of his hand, sitting up to face him.

"Of course we do." You experimentally raised a hand to his face, seeing if he would shy away. That was not the case, rather the opposite. He seemed to almost lean into your touch. You weren't sure why he was so okay with this; you supposed that each Irken had different policies and tolerances when it came to physical contact. Red seemed to be anxiously awaiting whatever was coming next, his expression eager. "Sometimes we give each other kisses." You didn't bother fighting the smile that played at your lips as you peppered several kisses all over his face. There was barely an inch of his cheeks and forehead that went untouched. Red's face felt hot beneath your lips, and if Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be completely flushed. His fingers had drifted to your sides, lightly resting there.

Hmm...Irkens are quite interesting... You thought as you held eye contact with Red. He was clearly embarrassed to be engaging in this, but more so at the fact that he was enjoying it. And yet, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down. You wondered what would happen if someone found him like this. What would even happen?

"The rest of human physical affection is rather intimate, so the lesson will have to end here." Before he could protest, you leaned in one last time, pressing your lips to where his should be. His fingers dug into your sides, antennae shooting straight up in the air. You had never dreamed that you would be kissing an alien leader on a warship in space, but you wouldn't say you were disappointed. Pulling away, Red's grip on you loosened, and something bright caught your eye. Small sparks were being thrown from his PAK, which concerned you slightly. "Uh, Red...?" Pointing a finger to his PAK, he shook his head wildly, and after a moment, everything seemed to be alright again.

"It's fine!" He spoke abruptly, voice loud and awkward. His voice drew in some company, as Purple stuck his head in the room.

"There you are! Zim keeps sending transmissions through and he's going crazy-" Red yelped, practically throwing you off of him and into the nearest chair he could find.

"So, do I go home now?" You asked, and for the first time, Purple seemed to notice you.

"Ack! How did you get out of the dungeons?!" Purple jumped back, despite already being across the room from you.

"I have super powers." You snickered at his frightened appearance. Red rolled his eyes, waving his counterpart off.

"Just go, I'll deal with Zim." Purple nodded, zipping out of the room. You weren't sure if your senses were playing tricks on you, or if Red really was disappointed to see you leave. "C'mon, Y/n. Let's go figure out how to reverse engineer a transport portal."

#invader zim #tallest red #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #one shot #request

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dweetwise · 4 years

Note

Headcannons about Ace interacting with other survivors in the realm? Thanks!!

[yess trash husband! these all got weirdly wholesome sksksk just let me have this ok]

there are too many survivors lmao this is so long

Ace & other survivors headcanons

In general Ace is a friendly guy, trying his best to stay on good terms with all the survivors and avoid drama. He’ll joke, tease and flirt to keep things lighthearted in camp.

He’s a lot more perceptive than he seems, and what initially seems to be an ill-timed quip or a joke in poor taste is often well thought out to lighten the mood and shift the attention away from an argument or tension between the others.

Dwight

Dwight was the first survivor to make him feel part of the group when he initially arrived in the realm. Where the others saw a shady man twice their age lacking any sort of tact, Dwight saw a potential ally just trying to cope with a shitty situation.

Ever since, Ace has made it his mission to act as Dwight’s #1 cheerleader. When the other gets wrapped up in his own head, Ace will offer cheesy compliments until Dwight can’t help but laugh at his antics, forgetting his insecurities at least momentarily.

Ace likes Dwight well enough despite their completely different personalities, but mostly recognizes how important it is to keep their leader’s spirits high.

Meg

Meg is a bit of a loudmouth and Ace likes that she gives as good as she gets. He’ll often tease her and she’ll insult him in return, the others not understanding why the two are grinning like idiots while seemingly arguing.

When Meg has a bad day, she’ll sometimes just flop down next to Ace and sag against him without a word. He knows not to say anything and just lets her rest against him, maybe shows her a neat card trick if she looks like she needs a distraction.

Meg pointedly never talks about any father figure in her life, only her mother, so Ace is happy to fill in for any paternal affection she needs. He’s not sure he deserves the trust she's placed in him, but tries his best nonetheless.

Claudette

Ace thinks Claudette hates him at first, since the girl rarely laughs at his jokes, sometimes even interrupting to defend the person he’s bantering with. It takes him a while to realize that Claudette just has trouble reading his tone, tending to take his words at face value.

He makes a conscious effort to be more genuine with her, and actually ends up opening up more to her than any of the others because he can’t hide behind wit and sarcasm.

Even though he loves being the life of the party, when he needs a breather he seeks out one-on-one time with Claudette and listens for hours while she talks about plants or her family in her soothing voice.

Jake

Jake is an ongoing project for him. Ace has caught glimpses of Jake’s wonderfully dark sense of humor and is determined to see more of what’s behind the stoic exterior.

So Ace pushes more than any of the others, teasing and joking even when it’s clear Jake wants to be left alone. Usually he gets an annoyed grunt or an eye roll for his efforts. Sometimes, he gets punched. But every once in a while, particularly when nobody else is around, he’ll get a small smirk and an amazingly witty quip in return.

So he keeps pestering Jake, hoping that one day the other will be comfortable enough to let his guard down around him and the rest of the survivors.

Nea

Nea is a huge brat and is Ace’s favorite partner is trials, as she’s always up for doing dumb shit with him and doesn’t care if he gets distracted and loots a chest or five.

In camp, she’s like an annoying little sister, constantly getting up in his business, calling out his cheating in card games and booing at his less than stellar jokes.

Ace is her go-to confidant for her girl troubles. She always pretends to be annoyed at his shitty advice and the cringy pick-up lines he suggests she use, but she’s grateful to have someone to talk to who never judges.

Laurie

Laurie doesn’t approve of Ace’s previous lifestyle, not to mention some of the impulsive decisions he makes in trials, and she’s not afraid of letting him know. He doesn’t mind being lectured by her and will be the first to admit she’s leagues more mature than he is despite her young age.

She pretends to hate his jokes but still catches her smiling when she thinks he doesn’t see. Though he learned the hard way that she’s not receptive to flirty comments when she wrangled his arm back for calling her “sweetheart”.

She has cried on his shoulder multiple times, especially after trials against her brother. Ace thinks it’s because he’s open to a fault compared to her reserved nature, and she knows he won’t push her away or make a big deal out of it. Afterwards, she’ll be embarrassed and threaten violence if he tells the others, and he’ll go back to cracking jokes.

Bill

In many ways, Bill is Ace’s polar opposite; he’s serious, grumpy and sarcastic compared to Ace’s lighthearted and over-the-top demeanor.

They make a good comedy duo, with Bill being a reluctant participant most of the time. Still, the other has yet to actually ignore his goading, taking every chance to try to knock Ace down a peg.

Bill’s true colors shine through in bad trials, when he’ll ask Ace to help him save their younger friends, trusting his skill and moral code at least momentarily. After all, there’s a certain kind of solidarity that only comes from bleeding out next to each other on the ground after having successfully bullied the killer away from their teammates.

Feng

Some of the others dislike Feng and how selfish she is in trials, but Ace has a soft spot for her and her erratic behavior, quick to jump in and defuse situations where the others are ganging up on her.

Feng eventually recognizes Ace as her equal and not a “pleb” like she sees most of the others. She’ll even almost look happy to see him if they spawn together in a trial, before pestering him until he hands her his item.

Feng’s competitive nature sometimes makes her take out her frustration on the others in a gamer rage. Ace often intentionally makes himself an easy target by teasing her, not minding being her verbal punching bag as he knows it’s all bark and no bite and it helps her de-stress.

David

Ace finds David’s complete lack of filter and dirty humor amusing. The two have the most bizarre banter, egging each other on with gags that consist of 90 % of obscenities and that cause some of the others to cover their ears in second hand embarrassment.

Ace likes that David doesn’t take himself too seriously, and often uses the Brit as the butt of a joke, knowing the other won’t mind and will most likely be the one to laugh the hardest.

If David gets in one of his moods, pent up after a trial and looking for a brawl, Ace is one of the few who can snap him out of it with one of their tasteless jokes. Sometimes the joke falls flat and he gets punched or wrestled to the ground instead, but hey, at least David’s not sulking any more.

Quentin

Ace goes easy on Quentin at first, because the boy looks so tired and seems like he’s struggling with the realm. Quentin eventually notices the special treatment and starts giving him shit for it. Ace goes full force with the banter and Quentin is more than happy to dish it back, displaying a delightfully quick wit and dry sense of humor.

He still recognizes that Quentin might have an aversion to older men so he keeps a healthy distance between them, consciously resisting his natural inclination for playful shoves or flirty jokes.

Proud member of the Protect Quentin / Kick Freddy’s Ass squad. He wishes he could do more for Quentin, but hey, at least he can make the sleepy boy crack a few jokes at Ace’s expense.

Tapp

His relationship with Tapp is tense at first; as conman and cop, they have a lot of prejudices against each other.

Tapp eventually drops the antagonism, recognizing the real threat in the killers and realizing the benefits of teamwork. That includes accepting petty criminals like himself and Nea.

They’re not the best of friends by any means, but it’s kind of nice to play cards with the man and be able to chat with someone his own age. Ace doesn’t even cheat in their games, and in return gets to hear about some of Tapp’s more colorful cases as a detective.

Kate

Ace values Kate a lot in their group; she’s hearty, genuine and he’s never seen her angry. She radiates charisma in a way that’s completely different to his own, and Ace feels like he can relax and drop the “entertainer” act when she′s around.

He’s not actually close to her personally, as they don’t have much more in common than being the token happy person by the campfire. Still, they have a silent understanding of one another.

Ace will sometimes call her obnoxious pet names like honey, sweetheart and pumpkin, and she’ll just laugh in her melodious voice and shoot back a “yes, darlin’?”.

Adam

Adam is well-read and sophisticated to a point where Ace feels a little bit intimidated. Adam will frown at some of his jokes and correct him, and Ace will feel dumb.

Ace starts having his guard up around the other, until Adam seems to notice and makes a conscious effort to befriend him, confessing that he’s just a little awkward and never meant to be rude.

Ace is always quick to forgive and forget and goes back to joking full force, also making an effort to ask the other about some useless trivia every now and then because it makes Adam’s face light up.

Jeff

Jeff is just so chill even Ace feels himself mellow out in his company. They have pretty much nothing in common but Jeff always chuckles at his jokes and has some pretty good one-liners of his own.

He’ll sometimes just sit with Jeff and talk about anything and everything, appreciating the other’s interesting worldview that’s so different to his own. It always feels kind of like he’s just out having a beer with a bro.

Jeff is the one Ace is most comfortable with asking advice from, because the man never judges and his advice often offers a whole new perspective.

Jane

Jane and Ace butt heads a lot. She doesn’t like some of his more questionable jokes and won’t hesitate to call him out. In return, he’ll claim she just needs to lighten up.

Eventually this dynamic becomes a joke of its own, with the others commenting on how “mom and dad are arguing again”.

Ash

Hoo boy. These two are so much alike and it usually ends in disaster. Will bully killers together and get facecamped while the other is slugged next to the hook.

Ash is more of an adrenaline junkie than him, and Ace actually starts finding himself being the voice of reason that tries to talk Ash out of sucker punching the killer.

Ash is somehow also even more of an attention whore than Ace, so when the man is telling a crazy story to the rest of the camp, Ace is content to quietly slip away from the commotion and go chill with Claudette or Jeff.

Nancy

Nancy is one of the smartest people Ace has ever met and he loves how flustered she gets whenever he tells her as much.

He’s happy to let her take the lead in trials, as she, like Dwight, seems to be a natural leader. She’s always surprised by his acceptance of her as an equal or even superior, and he can tell she’s had trouble with being taken seriously in the past.

That being said, he can’t resist messing with her every now and then, cracking jokes and trying to get her to loosen up and realize that the fate of the world does not rest on her shoulders.

Steve

Ace sees a lot of himself in Steve; the goofiness, the troublemaking, and the cockiness that sometimes verges on arrogance.

He goes along with Steve’s dumb ideas in trials, feeling decades younger every time the teen eggs him on to have flashlight lightshows or make farting sounds with the gauze rolls instead of doing the objective.

When Steve inevitably gets caught trying to pull a dumb stunt, Ace will be the one to save his ass while giving him shit for it, all in good nature.

Yui

Yui is a badass if he’s ever seen one. They’ve pulled off so many end-game rescues together that should have been impossible, but with her determination and his luck they always seem to defeat the odds.

In camp, Yui is a wiseass and they give each other so much shit for the smallest of things. Yui is painfully blunt and thrives on good banter, and Ace is happy to indulge her.

Yui has a filthy mouth that will give David a run for his money and has even managed to make Ace blush and gape on a couple of occasions.

Zarina

Zarina is not amused by Ace’s flirting and flamboyance. Zarina values actions, not words, and somehow seems to sense all the empty promises Ace has made in his past.

Each time he’s about to engage her in conversation is predated by one of her eye rolls or exaggerated sighs. He starts greeting her with the same gestures to mess with her, annoying her further.

Nevertheless, when push comes to shove, she’s there to pick him up off the ground at the expense of her own health state and reluctantly compliments him for running the killer for three gens.

Cheryl

Cheryl keeps surprising Ace, her shy demeanor hiding a dry sense of humor and a rebellious streak.

She plays along with his banter without missing a beat, throwing in some jokes at his expense for good measure, causing Nea and Yui to basically insta-adopt her as one of their own and bond over his shitty sense of humor.

sorry there’s only 2 for jane and cheryl! i’ve done a hc with ace&jane before and i still don’t have a good grasp on cheryl/heather’s character ;w;

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wendibird · 4 years

Text

SPN 15X14 Observations

So, for whatever dumbass reason, when trying to use my actual television, the cable refuses to work properly 8 times out of 10. BUT I was able to stream tonight’s episode on my computer with my cable network’s app. So, there’s that. Because of that, and since it’s easier for me to type on my keyboard than on my phone, I actually took quick notes and observations during commercial breaks. Here are those, then some more of my thoughts following. (And I’m sorry if any of these seem a bit incoherent. They were more my observations to myself. *LOL*

(everything else under the keep reading line since I got a bit rambly, and just in case anyone wants to avoid spoilers)

- Brothers being written a bit like characters of themselves rather than just themselves. (trying too hard?)

- Love Mrs. Butters. Actress really good. And the minor ret-con works with what we've seen.

- Sam more concerned about Jack. I think he understands him better, even though he hasn't seen much of him.

- "Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy." (or something like that.) Good quote!

- Waiting for the catch.

- "Enjoy the world you're fighting for." (compare with Kevin's similar line: "I can't enjoy a world I need to save.")

- Mrs. Butters knows Jack isn't human.

- BOY did the shoe drop! But it was Sinclaire involved. Not surprised he took advantage of her natural protective nature.

- Wanted more plot for WHY exactly they still have Thor's Hammer. Have they had it this whole time? Last we saw Sam dropped it in 8X2. Or did Mrs. Butters conjure it up because they might need it? Was cool though that Sam was using it. Because we already know he can.

- Jack figured out on his own how to use the projector. (love that boy!)

- liked hearing him talk about what happened with Mary and how he feels.

- Mrs. Butters knows from experience about needing "second chances" I think.

- Why were they ALWAYS wearing the same clothes during the "We got one!" montages? Assuming it was supposed to have taken place over several days at least if not longer. (I highly doubt they went out on THAT many hunts in one day.)

- Yeeeah... So I get she's protective, but JACK IS BABY! She can clearly see his power levels but she has to have seen how he he actually IS? But she gave him the smoothies from the start, so she's been planning it from almost the start. Hrm.

- idk what anyone else says, I'm thrilled that Sam and Eileen had a date. Also, THIS is where that sweater-vest comes from. Bet we'll see him going for his gun too. (That clip was hotly debated in one of the discord servers I’m on)

- Dean is obviously still having some issues with Jack, but he also seems to know that they're his personal issues and he knows that Jack is good. (Expanding on this thought post episode, I was seeing this as Dean recognizing the difference between what he knows and what he’s feeling. So, yey! Personal growth!)

- DEAN JACK IS NOT A BATTERING RAM!!!

- Dean sees Jack as a weapon. He used him as a battering ram. He'll use him as a grenade to throw at Chuck. (More on this after the notes.)

- Sam sees him as a person. His argument was that Jack was someone he cared about. That killing him would HURT him.

- Also, did they HAVE to go for the fingernails again?!

- Poor Sam, getting tortured. And being the "favorite" of something bad.

- Also, SAM WAS RIGHT! To be cautious of her at first. Too many times he's had things/people seem good and turn out opposite.

- And because Dean had decided it was all okay, they both stopped looking up on her.

- Maybe Sam will realize that he doesn't always have to follow Dean's lead. He can pursue his own paths. (Not talking about them separating. Just, if he wants to look into something, he should do it. If he wants to follow a different lead, he should check it out.)

- I know he lost a lot of confidence last season but I hope he realizes that he doesn't by default make bad decisions.

- Okay, that was a good resolution. I'm glad she's going back to her people.

- Interdimensional geoscope: Dean saw nothing. Because ALL the other universes are gone. *sad-face*

- Love Sam and Jack. Wish we got a bit more. But it was something.

- Also love that Dean tried. That felt real to me. (the birthday cake)

More thoughts!

So. Overall I liked this episode. It was lighthearted mostly, but touched on some serious topics and wasn’t completely disconnected with what is going on with everyone, despite the random holiday montage. *LOL* (Yes, I know she wasn’t bending time or anything, she was just choosing to celebrate some holidays with her boys regardless of when this is all taking place exactly.) It did feel a bit to me, at the start anyway, like the writing at least was trying too hard to “Sound like Sam and Dean” instead of just them being them. I mentioned that at the start but what I mean is, in this season especially (but not exclusively) I’ve noticed a lot of times where it feels to me like the writing/directing/whatever leads to the sum total of what we see is trying too hard to present this idea of who the characters are, like caricatures of them. The things associated with them get emphasized, sometimes out of proportion. Though in this episode, it only felt like that during the opening scene and maybe a few places elsewhere. Overall I thought the writing and especially the acting on the parts of the main 3 guys and the guest actor were well done and had a lot of nuance when needed. Like, as an example, when Sam and Dean sussed out that this being that they didn’t even know was a bit behind the times, they were actually pretty gentle with bringing her up to speed. And her reaction to realizing that everyone she knew before was dead felt very real.

I liked what we saw of where each of the characters were emotionally this episode. It was the first one after Jack has been re-souled and it had definitely been weighing on my mind how everyone was doing. (Though I REALLY wish we could have actually seen Sam and Dean’s reactions to Jack tearfully begging their forgiveness last episode. But lacking any other input, I’m headcannoning that Sam gave him a very long, warm hug.)

I also agree with Sam, I think there’s something more that Jack hasn’t told them yet, probably some details about Billy’s plan that he or her are sure the brothers won’t like. (Now, what exactly that could be is very much up in the air. I can think of quite a few options, but the details aren’t really important to me just now. Just the fact that something about it is weighing on Jack. More than just Mary’s death and the prospect of having to kill God. Which, in and of themselves would be more than enough.)

Speaking of Sam, I liked that we saw all those little nods to how he feels about Jack, how he’s still worried about him, and seems to understand him.

I also get where Dean’s coming from. And I thought it was well-portrayed. And let me just say, I am GLAD that he just outright told Jack where he was at. He didn’t sugarcoat it, but he also didn’t blow up at him, or reply with sarcasm or bring up other, unrelated stuff. Dean knows that Jack is trying, but he himself has some emotional stuff he needs to deal with. That he is dealing with. And it’s going to take him some time.

I do however stand by my observation made during the episode that at least at that point in it, Dean considered Jack a weapon. An asset. He literally used him as a battering ram, and in a more meta way, he’s planning on using him as a grenade to throw at God. Even when arguing with Mrs. B about it, his response was in reference to Jack’s usefulness. Whereas Sam was arguing that Jack meant something to him, that he cared about him, and hurting Jack would hurt him. Now, I do think that Dean’s POV had shifted a bit by the very end. Dean’s love language has almost always been shown by doing things for people, and taking care of them. So him making that birthday cake for Jack really felt to me like him trying to tell him that he does actually care about him. And I think Jack got it. And true, the cake might not have been as neat and pretty as Mrs. B would have made it, but I thought it was beautiful because of all the thought that went into it. (Dean’s more of a cook than a baker too.)

As a side note, something I thought about after the episode: when Mrs. B stepped in, she kind of took over that care-taker role. AND the research role. She made them lunches, cooked them dinners, decorated for holidays, and overall made them feel comfortable and safe. And she also pin-pointed where monsters were and made sure they were all stocked-up and ready to go. All they had to do was show up and get it done. And yeah, it must have been a nice break from the norm. But I also think about how much Dean finds his identity beyond hunting in taking care of people. And how much Sam finds his identity in researching and figuring things out. And with her doing that, they both took it easy on those ends. Dean didn’t have to make burgers for everyone since Mrs. B made a roast. Sam didn’t have to research since she could tell them where the monsters were and what kind. I almost wonder if both of them were starting to feel like those parts of themselves were all of a sudden unnecessary. (Which makes me a little sad, because it reminds me a bit of the “two cakes” concept in fandom. Who cares if someone else can “do it better”? If you do it, then there’ll be even more of the good thing!) And as I observed above, Sam also stopped looking into HER. I mean, he didn’t even know what would kill a wood nymph. And I do think part of that also goes back to him having recently fallen back on letting Dean make the big decisions. Because last season so many of his blew up in his face. (Though I don’t think most of that was his fault. But Sam tends to blame himself for a lot.) And I do hope that maybe he’ll remember that he does have good instincts when he listens to them. And he can keep looking into something even if Dean thinks it’s fine. It’s not a betrayal to be prepared.

ALSO! Being the absolute Saileen hoe that I am, even though we didn’t Eileen in this episode, I was thrilled that Sam went out on a date with her because she was in town! And true, we don’t know what all went down, but regardless, I see it as good that they’re at the very least still friends, and that hopefully Eileen is sorting out her own feelings vs whatever she might think could be Chuck’s manipulations. Even if Saileen isn’t Engame (and honestly, as much as I love it, I don’t think it will be) I would still like for them to be on good terms with each other. (And for her to NOT get fridged again!)

Another thing I was pondering afterwards and a bit during: I wasn’t surprised that Sam held up to the torture fairly well. I mean, it still obviously hurt! (And again, WHY with the fingernails again?! As someone in one of my discord servers mentioned, we didn’t need THAT particular call-back to the Christmas Episode of Season 3!) But he was listening to what she was saying. And he understood the implications that she had been tortured into acting how they wanted her to act. And Sam understands torture, and how it can mess someone up. And despite what she had done to him, and was trying to still do, he validated what she had been through. He empathized with her. And that.... it’s just SO Sam!

I will say that the resolution felt a little... abrupt. Like, her expression had changed a little during the fight/argument. Then back from the commercial break and she’s all packed-up and ready to leave and they’re all saying goodbye and wishing her well. I feel like there might have been some more scenes or parts of scenes that were originally there connecting things up more, but were cut for time.

I wouldn’t say this was a groundbreaking episode, but it WAS fun, and it did have some seriousness at it’s core, and I think it did what it needed to do.

(And I apologize if this is just a big rambling mess. I’m not used to doing structured episode reviews. *LOL* Feedback and opinions are welcome though!)

#spn 15x14 spoilers #spn season 15 spoilers #episode review #my thoughts #ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #mrs butters #i still need more sam and jack

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softschofield · 4 years

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(1/2) do you have any headcannons for baumer? I don't know a lot about ww1 but I really want to imagine scenario where this german baby gets to live! Do you think he'll thrive (assuming he survived getting strangled by scho) if by chance he had the unfortunately luck of meeting the brits and getting caught? I love your account btw, reading all your 1917 posts is fuel for my soul

hello my love!!!! i haven’t been active in waaaay too long but thank you so much for your gorgeous ask, you’re such a sweetheart ♡♡

so! i’ve posted a few short tidbits about canon era bäumer (and kilgour) headcanons before and after the war - here, here, here, and here - but i’ve never really gone in depth about what i think his life was like, and what it could have been if he’d lived. hold on, lemme get back into 1917 mode, it’s schofield playlist time

so, first, let’s focus on the part of your ask that deals with being caught by the british. there’s an excellent web article about german POWs (prisoners of war) that you can flick through here, but what it all boils down to is a few key points: it’s thought that survival rates of german prisoners in british camps could have been as high as 97%; there are numerous accounts of works of art, literature, and music being produced in those camps; after the signing of the armistice, the british helped to repatriate its prisoners, while those being held by russia were forced to find they own way back home; and beginning in 1917, german POWs were no longer sent to britain and used for labour because of opposition from trade unions (or they started to be used in britain in 1917? i have two sources contradicting each other), but they were still used in france and north africa on the battlefields.

but though those POWs from 1917 onwards may not have had to face vitriol and mistreatment from the british at home, they had to contend with the horror of life at the front. it was considered the worst place to be a prisoner. france, for instance, had german POWs work under shellfire for months on the verdun battlefield, aka “the mincing machine”, in 1916. understandably, combat-related deaths were common - minus any actual combat. because they were enemy soldiers, because there were little to no tangible consequences, and because they needed the manpower, it didn’t matter if these POWs suffered, lived, or died. i don’t have any sources to cite for this theory, but i expect germans were sent to do tasks the BEF would hesitate to ask their own soldiers to do - simply because if there was any cognitive dissonance still sticking in the generals’ craw about sending their own boys into a slaughter, they would have no such qualms about using german boys.

at that time, the rules for treatment of prisoners of war were stipulated in the “convention respecting the laws and customs of war on land”, part of the hague convention, which was signed on october 18, 1907. chapter ii, article 4 stated that “prisoners must be humanely treated”, and this meant ensuring that there was no abuse or forced labor in any of the camps. of course, because we know how desperate each party became in the war, and because we know human nature, this didn’t happen.

Prisoner labour was key to the war effort of many states. Overall by 1916, across Europe most non-officer prisoners of war, whom it was legal for the captor to put to work under international law, were working, some returning to the prisoner of war camp at night, others lodged under guard near to their place of work. For those housed outside the camp conditions could vary considerably. While prisoner of war camps were inspected during the war by the Red Cross, working units outside the camp were rarely inspected. The worst camps, however, were those run by armies near the front line. By 1916, the British, French, German, Austro-Hungarian and Russian armies were all keeping permanent units of prisoners as forced labourers for the army at or near the front. These men had to work under shellfire and live in desolate, unhygienic conditions. (x)

so, basically, let’s hope bäumer wouldn’t have gotten captured had he survived!

now, let’s move onto two other possibilities: one, that he fled écoust with müller, found his way to the hindenburg and reunited with his battalion, and endured the rest of the war; two, that he deserted. i’ve already said that i think he and müller had deserted and were in hiding in écoust, so i like that theory the best - and i think it makes for the best story.

so basically, i like to think bäumer took scho and the death of his friend in the lockhouse as signs from god that it was enough, that this place was death, that he had to get out. the english had discovered the hindenburg line and they would be descending upon this part of france any day - they’d already hid in the rubble of the buildings and watched the convoy shuffle past earlier that day.

so, with bruises blooming round his throat, he embarks on a journey across france, trying to find his way back to germany through raging battles, across no man’s lands, through abandoned trenches and half-collapsed bunkers, skirting around villages he can hear german drifting from and skirting further yet around villages he hears english singing in, discarding his uniform for a dead farmer’s trousers and shirt he finds in a shelled farmhouse. it becomes a parallel journey to scho’s, though much, much longer. it takes him three weeks, though time stops having any meaning long before that.

somewhere along the way, müller is killed. now alone, too afraid to sleep unless there’s something behind his back, numb and flinching at every little sound, slipping into unconsciousness against his will because his body is so broken and exhausted and yelping out in terror every time he realises he’s closed his eyes, bäumer continues on. he knows a few scraps of childhood french and mumbles his way through that on the few occasions he runs into german or english soldiers, head bowed and eyes down, the elbows of his sleeves in tatters, flinching in silence when the germans spit on this bare-footed french farm boy and laugh. the rest of the time, he doesn’t speak. he doesn’t dare accept kindnesses or pity from anyone. he becomes a bitter wraith trudging along a war-torn country in the vague direction of home.

and then, finally, he makes it home. in my mind, bäumer comes from osnabrück, purely because that’s where erich maria remarque was from and, in my mind, bäumer in all quiet on the western front is our boy’s cousin ♡ so he comes back to his mother, to his ivy-covered childhood home with his neat little bedroom on the second floor and the creaking stairs and the kitchen that smells like potato cakes. dirty and bruised, the villagers don’t recognise him - the villagers who babysat him as a child, who let him help bake cakes and pick apples from the orchard behind the church, who cooed at him adoringly when he played the organ at a christmas service when he was ten and cried when he fumbled a key. they watch him distrustingly and sneer about him behind their hands.

his mother, dull-eyed and skinner than he’s ever seen her, comes home from collecting her weekly rations, the rations she’s always sent more than she can afford to give away to him, to find him with a steaming cup of tea in the kitchen. she cries and shouts and pulls him to her, and he lets her hold him and doesn’t notice there’s tears on his cheeks through all his numbness; and for the rest of the war, they keep his presence a secret. a deserter, a coward, a traitor - someone, a childhood teacher or a neighbour or the grieving mother of a dead boy who deserved to come home more than he did, would have turned him in and they both know what would have happened to him then.

and so, for a year and a half, he stays in the house during the day, and wanders the fields and woods at night, and reads and reads and doesn’t take in a single word. sometimes he’ll wake up and it’ll be the engländer’s hands round his throat and flares in the sky. sometimes he’ll wake up and it’ll be the gurgle in müller’s chest. sometimes he’ll drift asleep in a meadow and wake up thinking he still has miles to go before he reaches home. sometimes there really is shellfire in the distance - shellfire falling upon boys braver than him, falling upon the boys who stayed, the boys still screaming in the trenches and in the mud. slowly, the bitterness turns to self-loathing. he snaps at his mother and meets the eyes of villagers like he’s daring them to recognise him, to call him all the names he calls himself. he loses himself.

he stays awake at night, alone in his room, imagining his discarded uniform being driven by the rain into the mud, imagining all the things that would happen if he went back to his battalion. his mother has to stop him at the front door, kicking and thrashing and screaming and finally sobbing, when he convinces himself he needs to go back. she lets him hit her as she holds him, and eventually he hugs her back and weeps.

in late 1918, with the armistice looming, the news comes that his cousin has been killed.

and eventually he somehow meets kilgour and ends up with him in england and they settle down in a little countryside cottage, and heal, and live happily ever after, and every year he goes back and visits his mother and she’s happy too and they have a wonderful relationship and i love them. kilgour slowly learns how to process his trauma in a way that isn’t just putting on a smile and making himself believe it’s real, and bäumer lets go of his bitterness and regains his softness and eventually his heart feels quiet and gentle again and he can read like he used to, and they’re happy ♡

#anon #re the first part: as always it's incredibly frustrating trying to find information about the german perspective in ww1 #at least just at a cursory glance - so i did my best ♡♡#1917 #mine #ilysm anon!!!! i went off on a complete ramble but thank you for getting me back in the 1917 headspace you angel!!!!!#♡#i'd just like to add a little disclaimer that i do think bäumer died in écoust and so i only think he ends up with kilgour in modern aus #but for the sake of this ask i LOVED exploring another possibility :')#asks #and disclaimer number 2 just because i hate the way women are always excluded from discussions about war: there WERE female POWs xx

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ofperez · 4 years

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♔ — * in tonight’s performance of ensemblehq, the role of the leading lady will be played by paola perez.

hello everyone ! my name is kiwi, i’m 20 years old, vibing in the est timezone, and i use they/she pronouns. a fun fact about me is that i’m actually studying theatre in college right now !! if i was a skeleton in this rp, i would definitely be the comic, as i tend to get typecasted into comedic roles in literally every show that we do ever (will i ever play a romantic lead in my life? probably not. i’ve made my peace with it.)

i will be writing the incomparable paola, everyone’s favorite rachel berry wannabe. while you can read her full bio HERE (and i’ll love you forever if you do), i’ve included some bullet points below because i know that i wrote a lot nsfkgjdfs

SO without further ado (adieu? ado? adue? how did i get into this rp, i have literally one braincell) i present to you: the grand journey of paola perez.

fictional character inspirations include: rosalie hale from twilight, dany from game of thrones, winter anderson from american horror story, maddy perez from euphoria, mariana foster from the fosters and (bc i have to) angelica schuyler from hamilton and also rachel berry from glee (don’t @ me, i had to do it)

ABOUT.

paola is the only child of luciana perez, an immigrant from colombia who fled her hometown of quibdó before her daughter’s first birthday. she got an american work visa, packed up all her things, and left the life she knew behind.

they never found a place to settle down in the united states, and moved around every couple of months to avoid detection and suspicion from neighbors and authorities.

(RACISM TW) this was exciting for paola, and she never really gave it a second thought until one day in the eighth grade when a boy told her to “go back home,” and that she wasn’t a “real american.” this made her upset as she didn’t know what he meant and she ran home to her mother immediately, demanding an explanation.

her mom was about to explain when the phone rang and she was told by a coworker that they needed her at work. she told paola to pack a bag and head to the neighbors for a bit. her mom never came back and she’s lived with her neighbor, linda, ever since.

she did not find out what happened to her mother until a year and a bit later, when linda sat her down and told her that her mother wrote her a letter, and she wanted to explain what happened to her first.

(DEPORTATION TW) the phone call her mother received was from one of her coworkers who was also undocumented. she said that ICE (immigration and customs enforcement) had shown up at their place of employment and was asking questions to employees, getting information about the ones who weren’t at work that day. if luciana didn’t go to work in that moment, ice would have shown up at her door that night, and they would have taken both her and paola into custody. her mom was now back in colombia, and paola was alone.

she wasn’t entirely alone, however. she had the theatre program at school and she had linda at home, and at school, she was super successful. she got lead role after lead role, building her resume so that she could get into a good college and then have a successful career and be able to take care of her mother.

things that happened before the end of her senior year also included officially being adopted by linda and applying to DACA (deferred action for childhood arrivals)

upon arriving at alderidge, paola realized that she could be anything she wanted to be, and what she wanted to be was rich and powerful and successful, and SO homegirl lies about being on scholarship and having tons of money and basically has created this whole second identity as a wall between her and everyone else.

she loves orson. not in like a romantic way, but in a “the only father figure i’ve ever known” kind of way. she used to spend hours in his office crying, working on assignments, getting advice from him on grad schools and life after college. his loss is devastating for her, and she’s definitely gone into full conspiracy theory mode.

HEADCANNONS.

i think for her audition monologue to get into the school she did the “out damned spot” monologue from m*****h, and i think that orson shed a tear at her performance.

she has saved a flower from every show that she has been in, pressed it, and preserved it so that after she graduates, she can have something to take with her to each dressing room she ends up inhabiting during her career.

linda tries her hardest to travel from florida to washington to see every show she can. if she can’t be there in person, she will email the school repeatedly until she gets a video recording of the performance. linda and paola have a tradition where after each show, they get ice cream and just talk MAD shit about everyone else in the cast. this is alive and well, and even though they sometimes do this over facetime, they still love doing it.

paola is really bright ! like super academic (enough to get a full ride to alderidge) but that’s something she keeps under wraps. she does have to maintain a 3.0 gpa to stay at school on her scholarship, and that is something she’s never had to worry about. she’s also minoring in business b/c even the most confident among us gotta have back up plans.

(TW: DRUGS) let’s talk about coke ! i imagine that her and the leading man found orson’s secret stash one day years ago and tried it “just for shits and giggles,” expecting to do it once just to try it and then to never do it again. that didn’t work, and now she is sort of reliant on it. she does coke before every performance and audition, when she needs a little pick me up to finish an assignment or to memorize the last of her lines, at parties, literally any reason she can find to take more she will take more. this is a problem !! homegirl needs an intervention, stat, or else she is not making it to broadway, no ma’am.

i think she has a completion compulsion, meaning once she starts something, she has to see it through. this manifests itself in many different ways. she won’t move on to the next question on a test until she answers the one prior, she won’t quit a project in the middle of it until she has some sort of finished project, won’t quit a club or a show or a commitment until the end. this also can be seen in her friendship w/ the scene stealer !

okay this is just because i’m a huge theatre nerd but i think she was definitely mayzie la bird in seussical the musical at some point, also probably the witch in into the woods and then i think her senior musical was mamma mia and she was donna.

her dream roles include harper in angels in america, lady m*****t in m*****t, and honestly probably goody proctor in the crucible (although she’s SUCh an abigail williams, smh).

she was born on the same day as barack obama and that’s not REALLY a headcannon, because it’s more a fact, but i think it’s neat.

WANTED.

you can find my wanted connection tag here ! it’s a bit scarce right now, but it has some fun jumping off points

other wanted connections i included in my app are: “line study partners, the person who she always goes and gets taco bell with after every rehearsal, maybe a roommate in between the supporting role sophomore year and the statue senior year who she actually really got along with! some sort of love interest would be cool but is definitely not mandatory although the most theatre kid romantic ship i can think of is being paired up to do a romantic scene and then dropping the scripts and making out so that could happen and be very cool very nice”

that’s it ! i’ll shut up now ! can’t wait to get started !

#ensembleintro #intro.#i did NOT get this ready over the weekend but i DID stay up super late last night to write it so

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theveryconfusedartistsart-blog · 6 years

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Flowisk (and Friskiel!) OTP headcannons!!

Awhile back, maybe a year or two ago, I got bored and looked up those ‘which character does what in your OTP’ and I made a list of headcannons for Frisk/Flowey(Asriel)!

At first I did it for fun, but later intended to use it to help me with writing my fic, but now it’s just sitting there, so I thought I’d share some of it! Keep in mind- that in most of these I also headcannoned the both them to be in their older teens/young adults (15/16 - 20somethings) because that’s where their ages are mainly set during the fic.

Don’t worry, everything is age appropriate!

1. Who is the early bird/ Who is the night owl? They’re both night owls, but Frisk is a lot easier to wake up.

2. Who is the big spoon/ Who is the little spoon? Frisk is logically the big spoon, I imagine if Asriel was in his real form they would switch around a lot.

3. Who hogs the cover/ Who loves to cuddle? They both love to cuddle, but Flowey would never openly admit that he does, unless he’s in his real form, then he’s a cuddle machine. Frisk hogs the blanket, they don’t mean to though.

4. Who wakes the other one up with kisses? Frisk!

5. Who usually has nightmares? Both, but Flowey’s are more annoyingly consistent.

6. Who would have really deep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ Who would have them in the middle of the day? Both would be night thinkers.

7. Who sweats the small stuff? Asriel/Flowey through and through

8. Who sleeps in their underwear/ Who sleeps in their pajamas? Since Asriel is fluffy, (older him) would wear lose clothes, sleeveless shirt or just pajama pants. Frisk (also older) would wear lose clothes too, but I wouldn’t put it pass them to want to wear cute pajamas and footsies.

9. Who makes the coffee (or tea)? Frisk is a tea drinker, Flowey likes coffee even if it’s not good for him.

10. Who likes sweet/ Who likes sour? Flowey loves sweets, mostly likely will only try sour things to prove his toughness, Frisk likes sweets a little better than sour as long as their subtle and not too fatty.

11. Who likes horror movies/ Who likes romance movies? Flowey is a picky connoisseur horror lover (you will only get him to watch romance in a movie if it’s part of a thriller or a horror movie) and Frisk loves romance but prefers comedy romances (will only watch horror if it’s a comedy horror film, or something like Warm Bodies) they settle on thrillers or anything else.

12. Who is smol/ Who is tol? Frisk is only smol in the relationship if Asriel is in his real form or anything other than the flower form, hah.

13. Who is considered the scaredy cat? If you asked, they would say neither, but Asriel/Flowey definitely has his moments that he’ll never admit to.

14. Who kills the spiders? NO ONE. NO ONE KILLS THE SPIDERS. FRISK FORBIDS. GET A DAMN CUP.

15. Who is scared of the dark? Frisk is, but they grow out of it over time, Flowey welcomes the darkness (and Asriel enjoys a nice nightlight because he doesn’t like to run into things)

16. Who is scared of thunderstorms? If they’re at night and extra loud, Flowey.

17. Who works/ Who stays at home? Depends, Flowey seems more likely to stay at home, but with the right push and self -esteem they’d both be workers.

18. Who is a cat person/ Who is a dog person? Frisk loves both, Flowey is wary of both animals (he’s afraid of dogs peeing on him/digging him up/eating him and cats have claws and are weird) but cats also remind him of Frisk in a way and both are very soft (Asriel probably is little more of a dog person)

19. Who loves to call the other one cute names? Frisk most of the time, but I’m sure Flowey/Asriel can come up with something.

(Yes, I know, I skipped over 20, shhhh, don’t worry about it)

21. Who has an obsession (over anything)? Flowey!!! (Frisk gets determined, but they don’t get obsessed) Little Asriel probably had a small obsession with stars and astronomy.

22. Who goes all out for Valentine’s Day? FRISK!!!

23. Who asks who out on the first date? Surprisingly Flowey, but he’ll never mention it being a date, Frisk will go all out for the next dates after.

24. Who is the talker/ Who is the listener? Flowey talks, Frisk listens. It’s always how their relationship has been since the start.

25. Who wears the other ones clothes? Frisk duh, but Asriel probably would wear their hats or house robes, Flowey will wear Frisk’s scarfs and hats when it’s cold. Everyone shares clothes here, it’s nice.

26. Who likes to eat healthy/ Who loves junk food? Frisk eats healthy fo sure, things like kombucha and Greek salad! Flowey loves all food, but yeah junk food is great too.

27. Who takes a long shower/ Who sings in the shower? Frisk takes long showers AND sings, Asriel’s showers are short but he sings for sure, Flowey probably likes to soak for a long time but is a very shy singer.

28. Who is the book worm? FLOWEY HAS READ EVERY BOOK AND BURNED EVERY BOOK. Frisk is a little too busy to think to sit down and read for fun, but they do like to read.

29. Who is the better cook? Surprisingly Flowey/Asriel, but this is a hidden talent to find.

30. Who likes long walks on the beach? Frisk. (Asriel enjoys the view but not the sand that gets stuck in his fur, and Flowey doesn’t like how gritty the sand is, it sort of hurts to travel in, he hijacks rides on shoulders)

31. Who is more affectionate? Frisk (Asriel is a very close second, depending where they are in the relationship, Flowey gets very, very affectionate but only behind closed doors)

32. Who likes to have really long (deep) conversations? Frisk, but won’t prod them out of Flowey. (But Asriel enjoys them too)

33. Who would wear “not guilty” t-shirt/ Who would wear “sin” t-shirt? Frisk wears the not guilty shirt, Flowey has the word ‘Sin’ drawn on his flower pot, this doesn’t change if he’s in real form surprisingly.

34. Who would wear “if lost return to…” t-shirt/ Who would wear “I am…” t-shirt? Flowey/Asriel would wear the ‘if lost return to’ shirt.

35. Who goes overboard on the holidays? Frisk, duh. (Asriel is a jolly close second)

36. Who is the social media addict? Neither, except maybe Asriel because he feels he needs to be up to date because he’s the prince and all.

37. Height difference or age difference? Flowey/Asriel is a little older and always going to be considerably taller, it’s great.

38. Who likes to star gaze? Flowey/Asriel!

39. Who buys cereal for the prize inside? Maybe Flowey depending on what kind of prize it is, Frisk gets excited for him.

40. Who is the fun parent/ Who is the responsible parent? Surprisingly, Asriel/Flowey is the fun parent, he has zero interest in his child seeing him as a bad guy, that’s his fear. Frisk is super responsible but knows how to be fun when it’s the right time.

41. Who cries during sad movies? Asriel and Frisk close second (Flowey will rarely cry, it depends on the movie)

42. Who is the neat freak? Probably Frisk, but I wouldn’t put it past Flowey for developing OCD.

43. Who wins the stuffed animals at the carnival for the other one? Flowey, he loves to show off, but Frisk is a little more precise and wins more.

44. Who is active/ Who is lazy? Asriel would be active, and Flowey becomes lazy if he’s in his flower pot for too long, and Frisk is average.

45. Who is more likely to get drunk? Frisk, since alcohol is technically poison for Flowey and Asriel is a good boy.

46. Who has the longer food order? Flowey because he loves food and Asriel because he’s a big boy.

47. Who has the more complex coffee order? Flowey.

48. Who loses stuff? Asriel . . . oh no.

49. Who is the driver/ Who is the passenger? Frisk drives!

50. Who is the hopeless romantic? Frisk, and secretly Flowey. Asriel isn’t hopeless, he’s a charmer, baby.

Okay, this post has gone long enough, maybe I’ll make a part two (yes, there’s more, these were a lot of fun to do!)

Here’s Part two!

#flowisk #flowey and frisk #flowey x frisk #friskiel #frisk x asriel #I am both sorry and not sorry for this being so long #and I know this is a art blog but it's turned into a fandom blog too so IDK

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mademoiselleenjolras · 7 years

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Is That Gaelic?

So, a while back there was a swarm of Irish Newsie headcannons on the page of the lovely @earlyjunes, and it reminded me of this fic. It has been sitting half-written for FOREVER, but I finally finished it and I think I’m okay with how it turned out. Let me know what you think!

It wasn’t often that Davey made the climb up to Jack’s “penthouse,” but today he needed to. Jack had forgotten to get his share of the day’s earnings, and Davey had doubled back the moment he realized. He didn’t want Jack to miss dinner, or even the night’s rent, because of it. And really, any excuse to hang out at the lodging house and take a break from home was a good one, in his opinion. He enjoyed the evenings he spent with his friends playing cards or roughhousing in the crowded living room. Race had pointed him upstairs when he had arrived, telling him to find Kelly there and drag him down for a game of poker.

As he ducked out the lodging house window and started up the ladder, he could hear someone singing up above him. This wasn’t a rare occurrence in itself; it was an open secret that Jack could often be found singing, especially if he was alone. It was definitely his voice. What caught Davey’s interest this time was that the words were unfamiliar to him. The longer he listened, the more sure he was that whatever Jack was singing wasn’t English. He hadn’t known Jack to speak any other language.

By the time he reached the top of the ladder, he could see Jack standing with his back turned, working intently on what looked like a new drawing. He hadn’t yet noticed his friend.

“Is that Gaelic?”

Jack jumped violently, whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?” He shouted, shoving his drawings behind him reflexively. He puffed up his chest, trying to project as much bravado as he could, before realizing who had joined him on the fire escape. His eyes rolled animatedly. “Dave, ain’t nobody ever told ya not t'sneak up on a guy?” He demanded.

“Sorry,” Davey said, mildly apologetic as he realized that he had actually frightened the other boy. Jack shrugged him off, turning around to properly put his art supplies away. Intensely curious, however, Davey decided to press the subject.

“I didn’t know you were Irish,” he ventured. Jack’s shoulders tensed visibly, but he didn’t deny it.

“Ain’t somethin’ I advertise,” he admitted tersely. Davey, in his excitement, didn’t register the guarded tone. The fact that he had received an answer was enough for him to keep going.

“Are you from Ireland? No wait, you’d probably have an accent. Not that you don’t have one already, but it definitely isn’t Irish. Does that mean your folks were from Ireland?” He asked, rambling a bit. One of his favorite things in the world was learning about different cultures, and here he was just finding out that his best friend was from somewhere far-off and interesting.

“My Ma was from over there,” Jack bit out. His past, his parents, his heritage, they were all taboo subjects to Jack Kelly, Man of Mystery. Davey admittedly didn’t know it, but he was trespassing on all of them.

“Is that where you learned the song? Did she teach you? What’s it about?”

“Dunno whats it about. Don’ speak any Irish.”

Davey tilted his head, confused. “What? Why not? You obviously know the words, why not figure out what they-”

“Why do you wanna know?” Jack finally exclaimed, unable to take Davey’s rapid-fire questions any longer. “So I’s Irish. I’ll soak yas if ya tells anyone, ‘bout that or the singin’, ya got that?” Davey realized with wide eyes that his friend wasn’t thrilled with the topic of conversation. Jack glared at him from across the fire escape. All Davey could do for a moment was blink at him, shocked at the sudden outburst. He went very still in order to avoid being the subject of another one, a habit he had never really grown out of. Watching Jack carefully, he waited for the other boy to make the next move.

It didn’t take too long for Jack to break. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered petulantly, sitting down and leaning against the railing. The tension dissipated with his movement. “I just don’ like talkin’ ‘bout it.”

Davey felt himself release a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He crossed the fire escape and sat next to Jack, bumping his shoulder to show there were no hard feelings. “Y'know, I think it’s pretty neat,” he offered. Jack turned to look at him sideways, suspicion clear in his eyes, and the other boy continued. “It’s an interesting culture. Unique.”

He received a bitter smirk in response. “Yeah, well, most folks don’ think like yous,” he scoffed.

“Is that why you haven’t told anyone?”

“There’s a buncha of reasons I ain’t told nobody, nitwit!” Jack snapped, his tone almost annoyed. Davey gave him an unimpressed look. Some of the anxiety on Jack’s face faded again as he nodded guiltily. Davey meant no harm by his questions- hell, he meant no harm by anything he ever did- and there was no use taking his frustrations out on the other boy. He looked away, eyes searching the rooftops around them for something of which Davey wasn’t sure. “Bein’ Irish ain’t really somethin’ what makes you real… favorable with people. It ain’t so bad as it used t'be, back when folks was just gettin’ offa boats and all,” he said with a shrug. “I ain’t seen one of them “No Irish” ads in the papes in a couple'a weeks. Don’ think I’d really be fired if anyone knew. But it still ain’t exactly… safe, havin’ folks like the Delanceys know about it.“

Davey nodded, considering the sense in Jack’s words. Being found out by the Delanceys could get him soaked just for his heritage. An ugly thought, but a distinct possibility. Davey knew how Irish people had been treated in the past, had seen the scattered "No Irish Need Apply” signs throughout the city and had heard of how common they used to be. They were fading, it was true, but the sentiments behind them weren’t uncommon yet. Jack’s parents had probably hidden the fact that they were Irish from the world for most of his childhood, and who did he have now to tell him it wasn’t truly necessary anymore?

“Do the other guys know?” Davey asked. Jack shook his head. His jaw was tense, letting him know that it wasn’t something Jack was proud of.

“They ain’t stupid, but I ain’t ever really told 'em neither. I ain’t lyin’ to 'em, if that’s what you’s thinkin’.”

Davey shook his head. “It wasn’t. Do you think they would mind, if they really knew?”

Jack considered it for a moment. His eyes flirted from one building to the next, still purposefully avoiding Davey’s own.

“Doubt it,” he finally sighed. “They all knows about Race, for sure. Most of 'em ain’t exactly from 'round here, either.” Davey nodded. He recalled Romeo, in particular, exclaiming something or other in Spanish when excited or particularly angry. None of the other newsies seemed to mind. Certainly none of them minded the fact that he himself was Jewish.

Jack was a simply a private person when it came to his past, always had been, always would be. The fact that he had only been snapped at for bringing it up, rather than punched in the mouth, was a bit of a surprise to Davey. He decided to let his friend have his little secrecies, but had one more question before he could really let it go.

“Do you miss talking about it?”

Jack fell silent for another long stretch. Just as Davey began to think he wouldn’t get an answer, though, he got one he didn’t quite expect. “I miss hearin’ her sing it,” Jack admitted quietly. “I don’ miss a lot and I ain’t remember much of her. I was only a kid when she… y'know. But it was always nice t'hear. And now s'close to all what I gots left of her. I tries t’ sing it when no one’s 'round, so’s I don’t forget.”

Davey nodded, feeling honored Jack had told him the truth. It spoke of a lot of trust on Jack’s part. “Well, if you ever want to talk more about it, I’d be happy to listen,” he said. Jack’s answering smile was all the thanks he knew he would get. “In the meantime, I’ve been told there’s a very high-stakes poker game about to start downstairs.” He stood up, offering a hand to help Jack do the same. The leader smirked, accepting it.

“I s'pose I oughta come in an’ knock Racer down a couple'a pegs,” he agreed with a serious nod. “Since ya sure can’t do it yourself.”

“Hey!” Davey feigned offense, despite the fact that they both knew he was lousy at poker. They shared a laugh and turned to go. As they headed back down the ladder, Davey glanced at Jack’s face, trying to see anything that would give the boy away as Irish. Shaking his head, he decided that maybe he could see it, now that he knew what to look for. And didn’t that describe their whole friendship?

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #davey jacobs #irish newsies #I cherish Irish Jack Kelly okay #kats writing

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lachalaine · 7 years

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d r a b b l e

because i procrastinate on drafts nowadays apparently asdfghjkl. so i just had an idea for this that basically took shape because i guess i needed her to have proper closure or something?? idk?? idk if this is headcannon yet. it probably is. not sure yet, must decide. it’s only part one though so I’ll finish the rest - uh… someday. eventually. idk, tell me whatchu think if u read it please, thank u.

has ex boyfriend in it and a jackie with a gun.

aka please tell me if it makes sense or if its too much or something idk???

“Why are you here?” Again. Again, again, again, again, again, again, a – ah.

Why did this have to happen to her all over again? Why did he have to come back into her life once more?

Why couldn’t he just leave?

Leave. Stay out. Get out of my life and NEVER COME BACK, DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE —

Grayish, blue orbs blinked calmly back at her question. Iridescent. Pretty. Unfamiliar. It was hard to believe that she’d once spent her days swooning over him, looking into those very same eyes and wishing blindly for a happy ending – thinking that following every little whim and order he’d given her would make her easier to love. As though that was the criteria she needed to surpass in order to be worthy of his affections. Oh god.

Disgusting.

That’d been her past. A year that she’d never thought would end and one she hoped to never revisit again. Things had been so different back then.

Now, however? Now, she wanted to scratch his eyes out. God knows her nails were sharp enough for it. It was the least she could do if the gun she had pointed at his head wasn’t good enough for him.

All he had to do was give her a reason.

And bless his soul, but he’d never seemed to figure out how to control his smart mouth apparently. “Came to see a familiar face. Also I needed a place to stay. Figured you might have some extra space in your bed?”

‘You dick.’

That cocky smirk he flashes does it for her.

Before she can even think to restrain herself, the butt of the gun in her hands has smashed against the side of his head with the echo of a resounding thud – too fast for him to react, and certainly strong enough to knock him out. She’d always managed to hit a little stronger than one might expect from a girl her size – or so she’s been told.

He’s collapsed onto her hard wood floor within seconds, the beginnings of what she’s certain would be a killer headache already building up in his skull.

Ah, but that’d actually felt good.

“Fuck.” The angry curse leaves her lips despite her sense of gratification at the sight, shifting to transfer the firearm to her other hand as she attempts to wring out the tension that he’d set within her just by his mere presence alone. The last thing she wanted – as much as possible – was to accidentally pull the trigger and get the cops called on her because she couldn’t control that mindless urge she had to shoot him.

Now though, as satisfying as she could admit that was – now, she had an unconscious ex-boyfriend lying down flat out on her kitchen floor.

Who was apparently – judging by the spot of red she’d uncovered when she’d poked his frame with her boot –

Bleeding.

Badly.

Well, that explained why he hadn’t reacted to her attack much.

“Ah, Garrison – you piece of shit.”

Ah, this was going to be a long night.

—– One hour earlier ——

“What do you mean he’s in Japan?” The lilt to her voice is more than enough of an indication for her companion to hear the slight tinge of panic that rests in it. To the person in front of her, he can understand. Unfortunately, he can’t do much to ease her fears.

Not this time.

He takes a long drag of his cigarette as he slides over a small brown envelope into her grasp, his weathered gaze skimming across the room – doing his part to make sure that no one seemed to be paying any extra attention to their conversation. “As I said. Sailed into Yokohama harbor yesterday. Damn ex of yours could never seem to handle plane rides, if I remember correctly.”

The topic of conversation makes her cringe, the honest to god feel of utter revulsion she has to even be discussing this is enough to make her hair stand on end. “Don’t remind me.” She whispers as she opens the small sachet, overtly wary of what exactly it is that she might find within its depths. “The man couldn’t even handle rooftops, much less a plane. But – oh god.” No. No, no, no, no, no —

Oh fuck, yep. He was here.

Mahogany hues gaze over the photographs she has in hand, flipping through them as her fingers shook minutely at the knowledge that the man was now even in the vicinity. She could recognize the port, could recognize his somewhat familiar visage; despite the jacket he’d used to cover his features.

He was thinner now, it seemed. A surprise, considering he’d already been so lean in the first place.

What the fuck was he doing here?

“Oh god.” Jackie repeats the words, unable to process the very real possibility that she’d accidentally stumble across this man on one of her jaunts around town.

She couldn’t handle it. Honest to god, she doesn’t think she can.

“Why is he here?” Her voice is but a mere mumble as she shakes her head, sliding the photos into a neat stack and slipping them back into the sachet, turning wide eyes back up towards the bartender – hoping to god he wouldn’t impart on her more bad news that she knew would haunt her for the rest of the night. “And how long is he staying?”

The man, for his part – can only shrug at her in response, tapping his cig against the ash tray on the counter next to him, finding it hard to even look at her.

Even amidst the darkened club lights, she now seemed to be far too pale for her own good.

“I don’t know for sure. Word is that he took on a job for some guy back in Seoul, paying some big money to take out a target. Target came out here – guess your boy followed.”

He finds he regrets that last part of his sentence as soon as it leaves his lips.

“He is not – my boy.” Oh, the utter disdain that reeks from those five words – he should have expected it. He definitely hit a nerve with her – if it wasn’t evident by her words, than maybe it was by that hand of hers she’d clenched into a fist.

Taki seems, for all the world – remarkably unperturbed by it, raising a brow at her even as he takes yet another long drag from his cigarette. The man blows it out slowly, knowing he was only further serving to test her at times – remarkably thin patience. “You’re going to break the skin on your palm if you keep digging your nails in that deep, you know?”

Ah, but she knew. She knew better than anyone - in fact, she could feel the sting now.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. In all honesty, the pain of it was the only thing keeping her volatile temper in check. “I already did.” She hisses instead, getting to her feet as she slides the photos back towards him – grabbing her jacket from the bar stool and shrugging it on, movements harsh and angry and – and –

Ugh. Why, why, why did she feel like she had such a bad feeling about this?

“What, you’re not going to keep it?” He asks instead, waving the envelope in the air – his attempt to grab her attention even as she made to leave, shrugging her laptop bag on her shoulder as she shook her head in frustration. “Not even as a keepsake?”

If looks could kill, the man would have been dead within a heartbeat. “Don’t even fucking joke. Just burn it. Or give it to a bounty hunter or something. I don’t want anything to do with him. Not now, not ever.”

“Not what I heard you say a year ago.” He sounds almost like he’s teasing her. In reality, he knows she’s literally just about ready to slug him.

It’s really only her respect for him that reigns in that violent thought.

Just. Barely.

“Taki. With all due respect – “ God, she sounds so tired. “Fuck off.”

The wave he graces her with is enough to make her groan. “Will do my best, Chatelaine.”

She really couldn’t have rolled her eyes any harder at that. Good lord, the man was insufferable. “Yeah, whatever. Goodnight.”

She doesn’t even bother to give him a second glance.

Maybe – they both should have kept a better eye on their surroundings.

Then she’d have had fair warning that she now had an – unwanted companion on her way home.

———-

She leaves the club with but a wave towards the bouncers, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder as she makes her way down the street – not even bothering to think of taking a cab ride home tonight.

Sure, the walk was a little longer from this far downtown but – honestly, she needed the fresh air anyway.

Her mind was a mess, and she had little clue on what she could do to calm it.

‘Goddamn him. Why is he here?’

Oh, but the question is one she hates to have herself even ask.

To be fair, it wasn’t like she’d – well. It wasn’t like she’d had full reign of Japan or anything. Yes, he’d agreed to stay away from her. Yes, he’d agreed to leave – to do his best to keep his infamous brand of trouble far, far away from her new life.

He’d agreed to leave her alone.

Now, not that she was stupid enough to put her trust in him again but – but she could only hope he’d actually keep to his word this time. That he wouldn’t come barging in and once more ruining what broken pieces of her life she’d worked so hard to recreate.

It’d been a while since she’d last seen him, and though Yokohama wasn’t too far away – well, the city was pretty damn big. Maybe she wouldn’t even come into contact with him at all.

She was almost too content with that possibility. Almost too pleased with letting herself believe that. Ignorance was bliss, after all – and maybe she would have been happier to not even know that he’d even made it back into the city.

Almost. That had lasted for maybe – five minutes, before she’d abruptly realized that she could hear the faint sound of shuffling behind her, and the ever distinct feeling of being watched.

Someone was following her.

“Oh.” An audible gasp leaves her lips as she stumbles against an upturned portion of the ground, coming to a pause as she makes to check for a scuff in her boots. It’s in that moment that she stops – that she makes of the fact that the sound of shuffling freezes just as quickly, and suddenly – it’s all just far too quiet for comfort.

A quick glance back down the way she’d come, and she sees absolutely no one.

There’s a sense of foreboding in the air tonight, so much so that she can almost taste it on her tongue.

She hates it.

There’s the quick sound of shuffling again, and it just about makes her jump. It sounded closer, more pronounced – she almost wants to run back down the way, in fear that she’d come across a ghost instead of an actual human being.

But ah, she figures she might as well nip it in the bud now, while she still could. Regret had always been a difficult pill for her to swallow.

‘Here goes nothing.’

“Hello?” She calls out, making no further attempt to hide the fact that she could hear someone there – that she knew she wasn’t alone anymore. Worse comes to worse, if it was an actual person – at least she could say she knew how to fight. “Is anyone there?”

The silence that follows is – damning. And yet, she can still hear the shuffling. And… breathing even. Quiet breathing, but –

Okaaaay, this was freaking her out. In all honesty, maybe she really should just turn tail and run. Besides, did she really have the luxury to care about her dignity at this point in time anymore?

Ah – not really. But, she had to at least try.

“Is – there anyone there that I should be worried about?” She calls out again, as though making light of the situation would actually calm down the tension that she could feel running straight through her veins.

No response.

“Oh god, okay. You know what? Fine, keep hiding. I’m just gonna go run and – eek!” That shriek felt like it’d been torn out of her.

Holy shit, but three am was not the best time for her to be screaming like this.

“Fuck, you piece of – “ A wild litany of curses leaves her lips as she gazes down at the stray cat staring innocently up at her right by her feet – her annoyance only mounting at the sight. “Goddamn it, you seriously have shitty stalking skills, cat!”

Frustrated. Hissing. Yes - that was her.

…someone please tell her that she really shouldn’t be screaming at a cat this early in the morning, honestly.

“Shut it!”

The girl rolls her eyes, for the moment chastised at the yell that erupts from one of the houses down the street. If she knows that voice, it’s the old grandma that seems to have an issue with just about anything that crosses her path. The same one that would call the cops on her if she so much as made another angry peep at the feline.

There’s the sound of audible growling beneath her breath as she glares down instead, narrowing her eyes and skirting around the cat as she points an angry finger at it – mouthing inaudible words that she knows for certain only reinforces the fact that she probably looks like a crazy person at the moment.

She really, really had to haul her ass home. Now.

Before things got any worse, good lord. Why was she like this?

And she scoots herself the rest of the way home, running down the street in a fervent effort to get herself back to a safe zone.

She pulls her keys out just as she hops up to the doorstep, sliding them in and looking for all appearances as though she was now completely flippant over her run in with her little stalker. The female makes sure to turn on only the barest minimum of the lights in her home, greeting her own house cat with a rather loud interpretation of her run in with the other feline – making it seem as though she now had legitimately no concern over her well-being any further. Like it was all just a fluke. Just a bad night where she’d been too on edge for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Maybe that façade is what makes it easy for him to decide to slip in after her.

He waits for her to head into what he assumes would be her room, waits for the house to settle – for the lamps in the window to dim before he jumps over the fence, heading towards the back garden so he can head in from whatever entrance is furthest from the street lights.

He finds the kitchen door easily. Lock picking it takes some time, but he finds he manages to get that one open without too much trouble himself.

And he’s sneaked his way inside with but the barest of noise, closing the door gently behind him as he almost seems to relax into the shadows of darkness that now permeates her home.

It helps take the edge off. In fact – the house…

It smells like her.

The click of a gun behind his skull brings that stray thought to a grandstanding halt.

That explains it.

“That comment about shitty stalking skills applies to you too, Garry. I’m almost disappointed. I expected better from you.” Her tone is utterly monotonous when she speaks – but even he can hear the subtle edge that lines her words. It sounds almost as dangerous as the loaded gun he now knows is poised to drive a bullet through his skull.

She’s utterly affected by his presence, and not necessarily in the friendliest of ways.

Not quite the best way to make an entrance, really.

“To be fair, I’m not exactly in peak condition to be skulking around town at the moment. So you’ll have to forgive my lapses. I’ll try to be better next time, so that you don’t have to get all hissy over an innocent cat.”

The press of cold metal digs further into the back of his skull – and in all honesty, the trickling’s of fear begin to creep in.

She really wasn’t playing.

——–

Which now brought her to this point in time. Cursing the high heavens and hoping to hell that this was all – legitimately a very bad dream she’d wake up from.

Sometime soon.

Right now.

Please.

…pretty please?

The fact that when she opens her eyes and sees he was still there – bleeding out onto her tiles, his form lit only by the stray strands of light filtering in from the foyer…

She was pretty sure that that was realities version of telling her she was shit out of luck with this one.

“…what do I have to do to get some good karma around here, Jesus Christ.” She mumbled, dropping the gun on the counter in preparation for her to do some heavy lifting.

Three minutes back in her life and she already wanted to shoot him dead.

This was going to be so much fun.

part 1 x

#&& summer nights last forever (drabbles)#//closure.doc #/okay but ?? hear me out #/now my brain has settled enough to do normal drafts !!#/because i'm not consistently wondering about doing this one so #/yeah okie idk i'll try to do threads or asks tomorrow gomen guys\

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