#also as someone who is physically incapable of shutting up in the tags the new editing feature is a lifesaver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigskydreaming · 4 years

Note

what are your favorite and least favorite tropes in fanfiction regarding dick grayson?

Most of these I feel are probably a given with me given that I am apparently physically incapable of being subtle and am donating my body to science upon my demise so that this phenomenon may be studied. For Science.

(But also like, the funny thing about me is as much as I rant about a few specific topics its only so frequent because there’s actually only a few specific things I gripe about its just that they’re eeeeeeeeeeverywhere.)

Thus, in no particular order, my least favorite Dick Grayson tropes in fanon and in canon because I can’t read apparently OR AT LEAST I CHOOSE NOT TO FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS EXERCISE, JEEZ, LEAVE ME ALONE....

1) Police officer Dick Grayson

2) Dick hated Jason pre-death and/or judges and is incapable of understanding or empathizing with Jason post-his return

3) Police officer Dick Grayson

4) Dick’s loved ones and friends all making jokes and insults out of the nickname he keeps in memory of his parents and Dick being all like lol this is fine, this isn’t debilitating to my self-esteem at all hahaha oh man that was a good one, I AM a Dickface, you nailed it!

5) Police officer Dick Grayson

6) Dick’s loved ones and friends all punching Dick every time he puts a foot out of place and then everyone both in-universe and in-comments being like NO PROBLEMS DETECTED, and also WOW, CHILL OUT DG, TEMPER MUCH?

7) Police officer Dick Grayson

8) Dick fired Tim and callously kicked him out of his home and the city UMM METHINKS THE FUCK NOT

9) Police officer Dick Grayson

10) Only addressing conflicts between Bruce and Dick when using the framing device “when you think about it though isn’t it still like at least half Dick’s fault that Bruce fired him and kicked him out of his home and hit him and guilt-tripped him into doing what he wanted.”

11) Bonus round - sub Dick Grayson. Like, I barely ever read smut in this fandom because I’m like ‘mmm, no thx and also hard pass’ to rape and incest as fetish or porn, and its like....hard enough to find any mature content with Dick that doesn’t overlap with at least one of those so I just kinda stopped looking ages ago, but even just when glancing my eyes past tags while browsing, I just DON’T GET THIS. I tend to be a variety is the spice of life kinda guy and thus usually can make a case for any character going any which way in any number of things, but this is the one character where I’m like, I do not see any angle in which he has a submissive bone in his body. Yeah he has control freak tendencies and there’s that trope about people who spend most of their time in charge wanting to give up control and let go at times, buuuuuut that only actually works with people who don’t fully WANT to be in charge or control to begin with, not people like Dick whose control freak tendencies IMO are directly born of how rarely he gets to be in control of even his own personal life in the first place. Just doesn’t compute for me.

And in no particular order, top ten most favorite Dick Grayson takes in canon and fanon, with these weirdly just being the direct inverse of things I hate because I mentioned the Not Subtle thing and also the Not Actually As Picky As I Often Come Across As, right?

1) Anything other than police officer Dick Grayson

2) Dick and Jason being bros who get along and confide in each other about the stuff they can’t/won’t share with anyone else because they understand each other in ways most others never will, and also also them having Secret History as Brothers BECAUSE THEY ARE BROTHERS WITH HISTORY BUT I FUCKIN’ DIGRESS

3) A Tim who respects and appreciates Dick’s contributions to his life and happiness and the amount of time and effort Dick has put into being there for him often at his own personal expense, even if there have been like one or two times in the grand scheme of thirty years of comic book content when Dick wasn’t able to put Tim first because he felt he had to put someone with directly competing needs to Tim’s first in this particular time and place instead, just like he had so often before put Tim’s needs ahead of others who had competing needs at the time

4) A Bruce who acknowledges his fuck-ups with Dick and actually apologizes instead of just being like “I am going to look at you solemnly with my Apologetic Eyes but its on you to read the Apology clearly present in my Apologetic Eyes cuz that’s the only one you’ll ever get as I am a genius and a renowned playboy but I do not do the words good except for when I am being genius-y and renowedly playboy-y and not Apologetic.” And who also puts in actual work to actually fix things with Dick when he fucks up in that over-the-top-I GOTTA BE THE BEST THERE EVER WAS, POK-E-MON!! kinda over-achieving way in which he does everything in life.

5) An extended Batfamily and hero community who actually ACT like Dick is someone they respect and appreciate and are in awe of for his position and accomplishments in the hero community and the fact that he’s been out there risking his life day in and day out for people almost as long as any other hero out there, and who has in fact been doing this for a FAR greater percentage of his lifetime than any other hero, period. Rather than an extended Batfamily and hero community who just SAY that Dick is respected and appreciated by everyone and this is why actually they resent him and think he’s over-rated, with no actual sign or evidence of Respect, Appreciation and/or Awe on display anywhere at any time ever.

6) A Dick Grayson who is allowed by the narrative to be as hyper-competent and intelligent and multi-skilled as any member of the Batfamily, without feeling a need for qualifiers about him being second best or a good acrobat but not as good at the detective stuff as the others, etc, etc. Noooooope. Nerp. Nuh-uh. Someday I will rise from my death-bed amid my death-throes one last time just long enough to gasp out “The Batfamily’s entire high concept is that they are a family of literal Mary Sues and thus all of them are every bit as intelligent and hyper-competent as the plot demands and its stupid to try and rank them and telling when Dick somehow always ends up ranked bottom last despite being the kid whose very existence as a hyper-competent little genius troll boy is what jumpstarted the kid hero trend in universe in the first place, which is the kind of thing that could ONLY happen if he was impressing and making second-guessers of nay-sayers left and right BUT I FUCKING DIGRESS, GOOD NIGHT NEW YORK, AND SCENE!” At which point I will expire, my work here done.

7) A Dick Grayson who is allowed to get mad and yell when people DO FUCKED UP THINGS LIKE HIT HIM AND BLAME HIM FOR SHIT THAT ISN’T HIS FAULT without this being viewed as a “flaw” and him Being Dick Grayson Badly. Extra points for a Dick Grayson who is allowed to stay centered in his own traumas and tragedies without everyone else around him somehow making it out to be that they’re MORE victimized by the things he is most directly the victim of.

8) A Dick Grayson who eats more than just sugary cereal because he was literally raised from birth even pre-Bruce as a world class athlete and show me one single person that description matches who doesn’t know how to actually keep to a nutritious diet. Yes, by all means have him eat the occasional sugary snack as a treat, that’s fine, but when the take is that this is all he exists on or would be the only thing he exists on if not for the intercession of Actual Adults being like eat your veggies, Dickie, like.....mmmm, but whatcha doin’, fic?

9) A Dick Grayson who doesn’t actually even HAVE to get mad and lose his temper when people do fucked up things like hit him and blame him for shit that isn’t his fault or do nothing but mock and insult him and make him feel bad, because there’s actually other friends and family present who make a point to be like WHOA, HOW ABOUT I SHUT THIS SHIT DOWN LIKE AN INTELLECTUAL, BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS NOT OKAY? I’m just saying, how is it that every single fic and their grandma posits the existence of a swear jar because Alfred will not tolerate uncouth language in his domain, but it coooooooompletely flies over everyone’s head that Alfred of all people would be okay with people casually disrespecting his eldest grandson for the sake of a yawn-worthy punchline every single time someone opens their mouth to say “Dickhead” without even any kind of “Swear jar!” follow-up, let alone a “I don’t know who gave you the idea it was alright to disrespect Master Dick’s memories of his parents, young sirs, but I assure you most assuredly...��TWAS NOT I.”

10) The existence of literally any other plot for Dick Grayson than one involving or relying on brainwashing. Like, just spitballing here but maybe people would have less trouble acknowledging and remembering the hyper-competence and skilled and genius qualities of the first Batkid if he was able to more often put those things on display instead of just running around 24/7 either brainwashed or brandishing pom-poms in enthusiastic commemoration of the hyper-competence and genius of everyone BUT him.

11) Bonus round - literally any other career choice besides being a cop.

40 notes · View notes

lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

Text

Frostbitten (Chapter Three)

Y/N L/N is a child of a Jotun and an Asgardian. She spends her life hidden in the dungeons of Asgard, with no one to talk to other than one of the princes- a man who seems completely incapable of leaving her alone and entirely unable to give up on helping her. Y/N and Loki Odinson have always been inseparable, it seems- even when there is a cell wall, or a village, or an entire kingdom between them.

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

Previous Part

I’m gonna pretend that this didn’t take me way too long to write and I’m just gonna,, leave this here,,

This part of the story is mainly just exposition so that you have an idea of the baseline for the rest of the story. Romantic development starts very, very soon.

Tags are open!

"If you were king, what would you do?"

Loki peers up from his book at the question, frowning sideways at you through a curtain of dark hair. His desire for the throne has always been evident, but he rarely ever talks about it. It always seemed like something he was.. afraid to mention. "What do you mean?”

"Oh, you know," you wave your hand dismissively, "how would you behave? What would you change”

He sweeps his hair behind his ears, and sighs. "Well, aside from an inevitable war or two, I'd, well, first I’d free you. Then, perhaps set up a system of trial- one that involves more than just the king, since we’ve seen how well that works out. I'd allow more children to study magic if they'd rather not partake in physical battle practices. Create a public library or two.” He shrugs. “I'd marry, probably have a child to pass the throne onto... You know, the very basics. Change the kingdom to focus less on glory and more on intelligence- wisdom. Strength is good short-term, but knowledge lasts forever."

You nod approvingly. "How very noble of you. I’d love to live under your reign.” That much is true. “But, really? No bragging? At all?" That part is a joke, mainly.

He grins, looking back down at his book. "You asked me what I'd do as a ruler, not as a man."

"My apologies. So, then, what would you do as yourself?"

"Everything I mentioned before, but I’d also create a very, very large statue of myself. Just as a constant reminder to Thor, since he never fails to remind me that because he is older he will inherit the throne.” He pauses. “Oh, and several very, very dramatic theatrical pieces. Community theatre would return in screaming colors.”

You snort. “There he is! There’s the Loki I know and love. Always one for drama.”

“What? As if you wouldn’t do the same.”

“I would.” You add, “but you know you’re allowed to exceed my expectations, right? You have full permission to be better than me.”

He scratches the spot just underneath his jaw with two fingers, turning the page of his book. “Why raise your expectations when I can drastically lower them and therefore have to work less to achieve appreciation?”

Your eyes give a slight roll. “You’d better be glad there’s something keeping me from you right now. If I could, I’d snap your spine.”

Loki turns the page again, looking back up at you in between the motion. His grin flashes into a smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

“What the hell?!” Thor bellows, stomping over to his brother and ripping him away from you by the shoulders. “You are not supposed to be here, brother!”

“Says who?” Loki retorts, feigning cluelessness. He takes a few heavy steps, his armor tight enough not to be shifting around, his boots soft enough to not make a sound on the hard ground. Unintentional mental rhyming. “Oh, my,” he gasps, lifting a hand to his mouth in shock, “did father explicitly tell you that I wasn’t to be here? That may be an issue. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to tell you, but you cut me-” he breaks off and releases a loud grunt of frustration. "You tricked me!”

“He’s the god of mischief,” you speak up, standing up and taking in the cool atmosphere. Bits of jagged ice prick at your bare feet, but for some reason they don’t hurt you. Your head feels lighter in the new environment. You feel more awake. More... at home. “You should expect that of him. He’ll never fail to disappoint you.”

Loki rolls his eyes but smiles faintly. “I think you all need to lower your expectations.”

“Why can’t Loki be here, anyway?” Asks Sif, her green eyes glassy in the cold. “What’s the issue with that? Why not him instead of I? The point of this affair was to prove our sense of diplomacy, wasn’t it? Thor came along to prove to Jotunheim that Asgard unequivocally cared about the reform. Why not two princes rather than one?”

Thor runs a troubled, angry hand through his shoulder-length hair. “I’m not sure, but father made himself clear. Besides, he’s a total pain in the-”

Suddenly, the Bifrost closes. There’s a whoosh of wind followed by an awful, earsplitting silence. The others in the group look at you, then their eyes shift to Thor, then Loki, then Sif. There is a notable absence of trusted adults in the area, and you feel the collective blood pressure of the group begin to rise.

“Where’s Arvid?” asks Sif stiffly. She slowly turns her head toward Loki, who stares confusedly back. “Loki,” she takes a stride toward him, her hand inching toward the hilt of her sword. “What did you do to him?”

Loki frowns, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’ve not touched him. If I killed every man I opposed, I'd never be able to get away with treason the way I need to, even though I’d love a chance to see him suffer.”

Thor starts pacing around the area, moving in heavy, quick steps. “Heimdall!” he shouts at the sky, voice echoing across the terrain. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost!”

You straighten your back and pull at your tattered clothing, shifting your gaze to a dark formation of pillars and spires behind you, some collapsed and some upright- about fifty steps away. It bears a bit of resemblance to Asgard’s palace, but it’s much smaller. It’s beaten down- unrepaired after a history of war. Loki told you about his father’s experiences here, about the casket that resided in Odin’s treasure room. That casket- that war was both the thing that ensured your creation and the thing that took your life away. You should not feel a sense of pride for Jotunheim, but for some strange reason, you feel the urge to protect it. Or, at least, let it die of old age rather than in the heat of battle.

“Are you alright?” whispers Loki, moving closer to you. You think that Sif hears, because her head turns toward the pair of you for a second too long. You don’t really care. “You look shaken.”

You don’t respond. A prickly, steady sense of fear travels through you, crawling up your spine and nesting in your chest.

“Heimdall!” Thor shouts a final time, raising his fists at the sky, before slouching, defeated, in a fit of anger. “We’re stranded!” he announces. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Why did you bring me here?” you say in hardly an echo, turning your back to what remains of the Jotunheim palace and looking out at the group. “Whatever your reason is, I assume you’ll have to go through with your intentions, with or without him. I’d rather I find out now if you don’t mind.”

Thor stops pacing to stare you in the face and then starts to approach you, practically fuming. Your fight or flight reflexes start to kick in, but instead of reacting you stand your ground, keeping your face set, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “If you believe for a second that it’s within your rights to speak to me, you-”

“Brother, I hate to remind you, but we’re in her realm,” Loki states firmly, just before Thor reaches you. When he freezes, you calm a bit, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Besides, she’s a princess, now, is she not?”

I’m not Laufey’s daughter! You think, raising both eyebrows. The fear is joined by subtle exasperation.

Thor turns to tower over Loki, but despite being quite a bit smaller he doesn’t flinch. “Watch your words. Neither you nor her need to know of the plans, especially now that they may not be set in motion. Now that Arvid isn’t here to perform the-” he breaks off, groaning loudly. He raises his fists to the sky. “This is all going to Hel!”

“I read the plans, brother. And I still have many questions. So should you.” Loki steps forward and lets his arms hang at his sides, staring daggers into the blue eyes of the older prince. “Until someone explains why this ordeal is to take place in the first place despite the obvious inhumanity, I’d suggest you stop acting as though you’re in control. As if you know what the Allfather has planned.”

“Loki, you know not of what you speak,” offers Sif, her breath fogging in the cold air. “Give it time.”

He turns to her, his lips parting into a somehow-menacing smile. “I’m sorry, is this not a sufficiently appropriate time?” He lets the words ring out, and then scoffs. “No, then? Sif, the two of you need a magician, correct? Are you going to ask me next to sew her lips shut and heal the wounds? To drain the thought from her mind, the soul from her body?” he points to you, and you blink in horror at the thought, shoulders tensing. Loki did make a move to warn you about what might happen if you didn’t escape, but this just sounds... very un-Asgard like.

It makes you think there’s something else going on. Odin is covering something up, or he’s scared. Maybe both. Your legs, weak from lack of use, begin to shake under your weight, and you try to steady yourself, pressure building.

What could an all-powerful being have to be afraid of?

Unlike before, Loki seems to be completely unaware of your mental state at the very moment. “Would you like me to take Arvid’s place as the puppeteer?” You’re going to lash out. You’re going to lash out. You’re going to lash out. “Speaking for her, moving for her, breathing for-”

“What in the Allfather’s name is happening?!” You snap, balling your hands at your sides. You glare at Loki, despite your intent to remain calm, and it takes him aback. “Assume we’re stranded here, how about! Assume we’re stuck on this frozen ice-land, and Heimdall and Arvid have been killed by some unknown force of nature. We’re stuck in Jotunheim, not Asgard. I don’t believe the rest of you have any means of surviving here, so perhaps it’s a good idea to tell the one person who can possibly keep you alive what you’re here for!”

“I don’t believe you’d be of much use-” Sif begins, scowling, but you cut her off.

“Was your intention to take over my body and use Laufey’s belief that I’m the heir to the throne in your favor? That’s what I’m gathering, and I hate to break it to you, My Lady, but if Arvid was meant for that job, and he’s gone, your best chances lie with me.” You glare harshly, and then, noticing the jagged ice stemming from around your feet, take a deep breath in and try to relax. It barely does anything. “I have no intentions of hurting any of you, despite what you might have forethought.”

Sif is offended, but firm. “Do you think that we’re feeble-minded enough to trust you with the throne? Your word means nothing. You’d have us all killed if you had the chance.”

You laugh, the last of your patience fading away. “Would you like to test that theory? I’ve plenty of methods to prove you wrong, and plenty more to prove you ri-”

“Asgardians?”

It’s a cold, rumbling voice from behind you, familiar and foreign at the same time. You turn toward the noise and lay eyes on several Jotun soldiers emerging from behind the large, jagged bits of rock and ice that sprout from the desolate ground. In the midst, a large, guarded Jotun glowers down at you and the others, looking amused and angered

Your aggravation fades and leaves only the prickly, paralyzing fear. The Jotun speaks again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Did he hear you speaking earlier? He had to have heard Thor screaming for Heimdall. Did he hear you and Sif arguing? How much does he know?

You find yourself backing up, and you stop when you feel Loki’s hand, outstretched slightly, press against the covered surface of your back, gently steadying you. When you look at him, he seems to be at a loss for words. You can’t say you feel any differently.

Thor, who had spoken loudly and boldly just moments earlier, is silent and pale. Sif, stepping silently and shakily forward, is the first to speak.

“King Laufey,” she utters, doing her best not to display signs of despair, “while the circumstances of our visit could very much be better, we come to return a prisoner.” The last word is a threat toward you, a reminder that previous plans have been canceled. She is going to get rid of you.

The giant, his face lined with intricate, deeply marked lines, looks quizzically at her, then at you. “Small for a giant’s offspring. ” He speaks slowly. It sounds like an insult. You take in a deep breath, refusing to look away. “Twenty years of age.”

“We understand that you believe her to be your daughter,” starts Sif, but she breaks off suddenly, sounding as though the air has been pulled from her body.

"We bring your daughter here in a gesture of peace," Loki says, and you notice that at the same time Sif lost her breath, Loki curled his fist, as if he had been the one to stop her talking. She looks at him accusingly but doesn’t do anything else, probably terrified. "Asgard's rulers have come to the conclusion that our quarrels with this realm ended inefficiently. We'd like to take some time to organize a proper treaty."

Oh, he's good.

Laufey chuckles, amused. He doesn’t seem to notice Loki’s magic. "And three of you? What well-dressed expandables Asgard must have."

Loki smiles faintly, signaling to Sif. "This is Lady Sif, one of our fiercest warriors. This is my brother, Thor," he signals to Thor, who is still looking a bit flabbergasted, then to himself "and I am Loki. We two are the Odinsons."

That piques his interest. He steps forward, and the four Jotuns surrounding him follow his movement. "The princes?" Laufey turns his gaze back to you. "And you, child. You're my daughter?"

You freeze for a moment, waiting for someone to speak for you, but they don't. You clear your throat. Your voice only shakes a little when it comes forward. "I certainly don't believe there to be any other undersized Jotuns my age, dead or alive, that were taken during the battle. It's not a very popular title."

To your relief, the answer seems to satisfy him. "Then they've kept it from you?" Laufey stares down the princes, lingering on each of them for far too long. Thor looks as if he’s going to speak, but Loki’s fist clenches tighter, and his lips seal shut. "They have locked you up, kept you from the truth, and even now, they restrain you." The handcuffs, frozen but refusing to break, feel heavy on your wrists. "If you were to one day sit on my throne, I wonder, how would you have these men pay for their crimes against you?"

Sif is giving you a cold, silent warning stare, and Thor looks like he might pass out- he does not appear to be breathing. Loki, on the other hand, edges closer to you, growing calmer with each passing moment.

"Well," you say, staring straight ahead. "Lady Sif has had no part in these doings. She hardly ever went down to the dungeons. So, even though I'm certain she'd have me hung if she had the chance,” the soldier is holding her breath, frozen, “she's technically innocent. Her only crime is disrespect." You practically feel the surprise bouncing off of her, and then her face contorts into an expression of suspicion. Loki is controlling her ability to speak- she must think he’s controlling yours as well. "Thor was arrogant, bothersome, but like Sif, he has not tried to harm me. The two of them live in Odin's shadow. They have no knowledge of what to do aside from what he instructs."

Laufey doesn't move, he just shifts his eyes between them, thinking. You don’t dare wait for him to speak, practically tripping over your own tongue in haste for this conversation to be over.

"Loki is so kind that he’s hardly even Asgardian.." You look over at him, asking silently for permission to go more into detail. You don’t want to spill your lifelong secrets if he doesn’t approve. He glances back, holds your gaze for a moment, and then nods wistfully, looking toward the ground. You turn your eyes back to Laufey. "He snuck down to the dungeons. Taught me how to read, how to speak, how to go as many places as I could without leaving my cell. I'd have gone mad without him.”

“They’re all innocent?” He furrows a brow, frown deepening. He’s testing you. “You don’t wish to put them through an inch- a fraction of the pain they put you through? Not even for a moment?”

“You asked me what I’d do as a ruler,” you quote, trying not to smile when Loki’s eyes light up at the familiarity. It’s always a joy to know he remembers your conversations. “Not what I’d do as a man.”

He barely registers any physical reaction before speaking again.

“How amiable. Unfortunately for them, I’m not quite as generous.” Laufey’s red, beady eyes sweep the four of you a final time, and then he turns, beckoning the lot of you, plus the soldiers, after him. “I’d normally have them chained to the walls and beaten to sod. However, your kindness has inspired me.”

Guards move behind you, pushing the other three forward, quite forcefully. Sif breaks free of Loki’s spell and unsheaths her sword, swinging toward the giants, but one of the guards closest to her grabs hold of her wrist, and she drops the weapon before she gets a chance to strike, holding her wrist close to her chest and stumbling back with shock. Two Jotuns seize her by the shoulders and steer her back with the others. She struggles against them, and Thor, alarmed by the sight of the wound, moves to help her, but the giants swat him aside just as easily as they did her. Loki doesn’t bother fighting, resisting. He seems to already be thinking of a plan. He looks calm. He doesn’t look at you.

“I’ll leave them alive. They’ll live what time they have here in the dungeons. And as for you,” he turns around once more, and you freeze, watching the three Asgardians as they’re shoved toward a downward stairwell, leading into a lightless below. “You’ll join my other children in their quarters. They will be awaiting you.”

He walks out of the room, double doors closing loudly behind him.

Frostbitten Tags:

@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name@jessiejunebug@fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback @awesomefandomsunited @itsanallygator @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fire-treasure-iii @strangerliaa @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @woohoney @itsanallygator

#Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki #tom hiddleston #loki (marvel)

95 notes · View notes

lostcybertronian · 7 years

Text

Bang, Bang

Darkstache fic, angst, hurt/comfort, guilt, mental breakdowns. (This is also posted on my AO3).

October 13th: the day Mark took everything from them. It's been a long time, but they're still struggling to live with the aftermath of what happened.

@mayor-damien-protection-squad (thought I’d tag you here since I’ve seen that you do encourage being tagged in this kind of thing. I hope you don’t mind.)

That day had been a rough day. His shell creaked and fractured, unable to keep together for more than a few minutes at a time, and the results of that showed: Dark's office was a void of gray and the dull ringing that normally accompanied him had reached fever pitch. Lights flickered and burst in showers of sparks wherever he went, incapable of withstanding the force of his aura seeping out in waves, suffocating any and all color. Thus, he'd shut himself in his office, treating anyone who dared poke their head in to images of bared teeth and fingers curled into claws. An eldritch horror framed in cyan and fluorescent red. He could only hope that the rest of the day would pass quickly and quietly. And then tomorrow he could put it behind him for another year. Then: Bang! Bang! The sharp crack of gunshots jolted Dark from his chair. Seething, he left his office and stormed down the hall, following the noise as more gunshots and a flurry of shouts rang out. He was not surprised to find himself at the door to the recording studio, the "recording" sign above the door lit up green. Still, Dark wasted no time in barging in. Bang! a bullet plunged into the wall, mere inches from Dark's head. "Damien!" Wilford squawked, hurrying to his side. At the sound of that name- long gone, but not forgotten- Dark's shell splintered, flooding the room with black and blue and red and rage. Then, as soon as it started, it stopped. Dark folded his hands behind him, the perfect picture of patience, surveying the room and taking in the corpses of a man and a woman (contestants of another one of Wilford's game shows?) sprawled on the floor, the Jim Twins huddling by the stage, Bim hovering protectively over them. Wilford, who was blood-spattered and flustered, and the last contestant standing, some poor schmuck who got to stare down the barrel of Wilford's gun. "What seems to be the problem here?" When at last Dark spoke, his voice was quiet. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, calm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bim shuffle the Jim Twins back a few steps. He clearly knew better. Wilford, however, was undaunted. "Damien!" He cried, jabbing his gun in the contestant's direction. "You must tell this scoundrel off. I am a respected Colonel in the armed forces and I am sure as hell no murderer!" It took all Dark's willpower to remain in one piece. "What is your name?" The entity shot an icy glare at the surviving contestant, a scruffy man who was pressed against the wall. As Dark studied him, he could've sworn he looked like- "Abe." The man answered shakily, "my name is Abe. Pl-please don't kill me-" Bang! Wilford shot at him, the bullet missing by no more than a centimeter. The man- Abe- froze, cringed, frightened tears spilling down his cheeks. "I'm not a fucking murderer!" The pink ego snarled. Dark gritted his teeth, rolled his head side to side, cracking his neck. This was going downhill quickly. He had to get Wilford out of there. He placed a hand on Wilford's shoulder, reached for the gun. "Wil-" "Don't Will me, Damien!" Wilford swiveled to face him, dark eyes alight with desperation, with madness. Above them, the studio lights began to flicker. "Will . . ." Dark warned, but it was too late. One by one, the lights exploded in cascades of pink sparks, sending shards of glass flying and plunging the studio into darkness. Behind him, someone- one of the Twins? Bim?- yelped, but other than that, the room was silent. "I'm not a murderer." Wilford choked out finally. He sounded like he was crying. "They . . .they were accidents. Jokes." Then he spun on his heel and fled. Dark barely had time to bark, "Bim, clean this up!" before he was gone too. A group of people were clustered outside the door, and they stared at Wilford as he burst out of the studio. Wilford (William? Colonel? What was his name? Which name was he?) immediately raised his gun. He only had one bullet left, but he would make it count. "Wilford." A man he didn't recognize, dressed in a long white coat and scrubs, a circular mirror fastened to his forehead, stepped forward, hands raised as if to appear non-threatening. "Put the gun down, okay? I'll take you to the clinic and get you cleaned up-" "That's not my name!" Wilford hissed, pushing past him, the others who had gathered, making for his room. "Get away!" He heard someone- Damien?- calling out his name, but he paid no heed, choosing instead to seek solace from the curious, prying eyes, from the figures of blue and red flickering at the edges of his vision. A woman, bathed in red, sneering at him. A man, dressed in blue, lying prone against the wall, his face one of pure agony. "I'm sorry!" Wilford cried, fat tears welling up, spilling over. "I'm sorry!" He made it to his room, throwing open the door, slamming and locking it behind him. And there he stayed: huddled in the furthest corner of his bright pink-covered room, back firmly against the wall and gun cradled against his chest as if he could use it to fend off the memories overloading his brain. It couldn't have been long before Dark came for him, high-pitched ringing and black-gray tinges of aura alerting Wilford to the man's presence before Dark was even there, stepping through the door as if it were nothing. "I didn't kill you, Damien." Wilford whispered, visibly relieved. The knot in his chest loosened a tiny bit. There was a strange expression on Dark's face as he shook his head. He wandered carefully closer, cracking his neck as he did so, straining to keep his shell in one piece. Recognition and a mix of guilt and sadness flickered through Wilford's eyes. "Why do you do that?" He asked quietly, "you never used to do that, Damien." Images flashed through Dark's mind. A gunshot. Falling. The sickening crack of fragile bones breaking as his borrowed body hit a cold, unforgiving floor. He chose not to respond. Instead, he held out his hand. "Give me the gun," he said. After a moment of hesitation, Wilford did, handing over his weapon as if it physically pained him to do so. Dark tucked it inside his suit jacket pocket and settled heavily next to him. Then, giving a soft sigh, his hand found it's way to Wilford's, frigid fingers clasping Wilford's warm ones gently. His shell was split, afterimages of him breaking away, wreathed in red and blue, visions of rage and hatred and guilt. But Dark said nothing, and the pair sat in silence. After a while, Wilford spoke. "My name . . . isn't William. And yours isn't Damien." He chuckled softly. "Don't know why I thought it was." Dark shrugged, running his thumb over Wilford's hand. He tilted his head from side to side, feeling the bones shift and realign, feeling his shell snap back into place as well. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you." "But," he added, leaning over to kiss Wilford's sweaty, blood-spattered temple. "Wilford is a perfectly fine name." Wilford's face brightened and he hopped to his feet, tugging Dark up with him. "Damn right it is! Now, we have no time to waste. There are game shows to run and things to do!" All traces of his breakdown forgotten, Wilford yanked Dark along as he practically skipped from his room, happy as a child on Christmas morning. Dark allowed it, grateful that the broken, guilt-racked William was gone, replaced by lighthearted, bubbly Wilford Warfstache once more. It happened this way every year on October thirteenth, every anniversary of the day that Mark took everything from them. Dark shook his head, banishing the thought. Now was not the time to think about that. He had to focus on keeping Wilford safe from himself. So he smiled and nodded as the pink ego babbled about upcoming interviews and ideas for new episodes of Markiplier TV as they walked hand-in-hand down the hallway and thought that maybe there was a chance the day could be salvaged after all.

#mywriting #lostandwandering #markiplier #markiplier tv #bim trimmer #the jim twins #darkiplier #wkm #who killed markiplier #dr. iplier #wilford warfstache #mayor damien #william #the colonel #darkstache

385 notes · View notes

tiny-smallest · 7 years

Text

an inch at a time

Rating: G Characters: Sammy, Alice, mention of various characters Warnings: none really besides the usual fucked-up shenanigans of a BATIM fic? Ask to tag. Description: Healing is slow, steady work, especially after so much unrelenting trauma. Sammy Lawrence has yet to really grasp that. But there's one person who might be able to reach him...

Also on AO3!

So I uh. Got really inspired by the Sammy twitter takeover thing and wrote Over the Rainbow fluff that I only remembered was super impossible halfway through, because Sammy was not saved in human form.

(I only just barely remembered in time that Alice was left mute in this au, which ended up working out in my favor, honestly.)

I hope you enjoy it anyway, @upperstories. Without further ado...

Sammy Lawrence was not a man given to wearing his heart on his sleeve. A stone cold cynic, the man learned early in life to keep one’s cards close to his chest. Feelings were not for talking about, especially when they were tangled and confused 24/7 and he would frankly rather forget the large majority of what those feelings were tied to. But every once in a while, as with most tragedies, the effects were inescapable, and physical reminders forced unpleasant self-reflection.

He was, at least, a little handsome– the horrors that plagued his life and stole so many years from him, so much of himself, had not been much kinder to his memories, but he remembered that bit, at least. He vaguely remembered feeling at ease with his appearance, and that he worked diligently to be presentable. He remembered he had long-ish hair, at least considering the times, and that he kept it in a little ponytail. He could not remember the color. Was it blonde or brown? It wasn’t a question worth considering when Henry led him and the toons into the light again, because all that mattered in that moment was the light– the air, the breeze, the colors and trees and sky.

But all highs come and go, and the high that came with freedom, of course, did too. Swiftly and without mercy.

Seeing himself in a mirror again thirty years and unspeakable evils later was likely going to go down as one of the most surreal moments of his life. A stranger stared back out at him, one with so many forehead lines, and crow’s feet, and pale, sickly skin. What could barely be qualified as hair was scraggly and gray, the ink having ravaged it to near obliteration. He looked like a late term cancer patient, except the truly disturbing part was barely being able to even recognize the reflection as himself.

Was that even himself?

Who was he, anymore?

Staring at the man in the mirror as if he might move independently, Sammy backed out of the room.

Getting him to use the bathroom after that was a hassle.

Worse still was the decision that what was left of his hair had to go. It took nearly a week and many arguments before Mary could finally get the man to sit in the kitchen, clipping away at his hair while Sammy stared with a dull emptiness at the wall. The notion of going to a barber looking like this was too humiliating and so this was the compromise.

Even after all this time, he still had such little say over what happened to his own being, didn’t he?

He wished that the thought would at least inspire some sort of slow burn inside him. Being angry was much better than this numbness, even if it wasn’t loud or explosive. But things seldom went as Sammy wanted, and this time was of no exception.

An hour later found Sammy in the bathroom, the longest time he’d lingered in there since first catching sight of his reflection, staring at his bald head. Henry and Mary both promised that this was for the better, that this would encourage new hair to grow in, that this was a first step towards recovery. But all he could feel was his insides twisting, crying out that yet again, something had been taken from him.

How was he supposed to feel about this?

A hand tugged on his pants.

“Hello, my dear.” The automatic response fell from his mouth, his subconscious miles ahead of coherent thought and easily recognizing the gesture as something the mute Alice would do to get someone’s attention. Tearing his gaze from the mirror, he glanced over his shoulder and downwards at the little angel, feeling his tense body soften as if a switch had been flipped. “Can I help you?”

Her pretty little face twisted into a look of massive concentration, her hands raising and slowly moving about with the clumsiness of someone unsure if they’re doing something correctly or not. Sammy raised an eyebrow and she repeated the motion, and it was then that he realized she was attempting to use the thing called sign language that she was learning to make up for her lack of a voice.

Dear little thing. Her very soul had been robbed from her when her voice was taken, and yet she was still concerned more about others than herself. His heart swelled a little with love and at the same time, withered with shame. He would never be that selfless, most likely. “No, I’m afraid not.”

<Are you sure? What are you so sad about?> She paused for a moment, frowning in frustration as she attempted to sign the next bit out but halted. Sammy watched, waiting for her to figure it out. <Mary says sometimes talking about the problem makes> Another stop. With a sigh, she produced a pad and paper. Mary says that sometimes talking about the problem makes a solution clear.

He wanted to be angry, but again, found no strength, even in his ocean of salt, to be so. “It’s a cute idea, but it doesn’t work so well in practice.”

Humor me. She tapped the pen against the sentence, a stern little frown puckering up her face.

Sammy blinked in surprise. Well then. It seemed like Alice had some of her bite back.

“It’s private.”

I know. But letting people past walls feels better.

“No, it doesn’t.” The reaction was instinct, like taking a hand away from an accidentally touched hot object.

Yes it does. She was tapping her foot now.

“How would you know?” he snapped, finally finding that ire he’d been trying to tap into and immediately regretting it as she leveled him with a glare that put his to shame.

Because it’s not like I didn’t suffer too, you know, and I see what bottling it up does to people. Bendy doesn’t like to talk any more than you do.

He winced. “… I’m sorry.” Just a few minutes ago he’d admired her selflessness and then he tried to step all over it. Why must he be a jerk at every available opportunity when he wasn’t being a sad, wet blanket?

It wasn’t like he wanted to not enjoy life. It just didn’t feel very possible at times. A lot of the time. The longer the days dragged on, the further away that feeling of light and joy from the first few moments of freedom felt. It was like he’d learned to fly for all of a day and now had cinderblocks on his feet.

I know you’re hurting. I won’t tell anyone anything you tell me. Tell. Hah. She couldn’t speak. There was an ironic joke in there somewhere-

Was… was that a bitter little smile touching the corners of her mouth? She saw it too, and…

His heart twisted. Alice didn’t deserve to feel that kind of poison in her. Bitterness was his weapon for so much of his life, that much he remembered, and he also remembered it leaving him pretty incapable of actually talking to people, shutting them out at most opportunities.

Such was the nature of walls.

That sudden thought gave him pause. Yeah. Such was the nature of walls. Did… he really want to spend the rest of his life, however long that might be, using that defense mechanism as his weapon? Keeping everyone out? He lost thirty years because Joey had a goddamn god complex. How much more time could he afford to lose?

… Did he want to look back, another thirty years from now on his deathbed, all alone, with only himself to blame for it?

“… You promise, don’t you?” It felt like such a childish thing to say, but there was no way he wanted any of this to get back to… anyone else, if he were being honest.

She nodded, her face relaxing into hope so strong it made him ache. Well, there was no backing out now.

“I hate this.” Very specific, Sammy. “I hate how… empty everything feels. I remember that day we finally left the studio and it was so- magical- it was like- like walking on air! And now…”

He gestured furiously to his reflection, scowling at it. “Now this! Look at this! I’m no more in control of anything inside or outside of me now than I was then! The things he did are still there! I remember anytime I look at myself! I hate looking at myself! I’m- old! Empty! I’m-”

Broken. Sad. Afraid.

A sudden weight at his waist nearly knocked the wind out of him and he looked down, raising his arms to find Alice clinging to his midsection. He forgot how much strength the toons could have in those noodle arms depending on their emotions- wait was she crying!?

… Had he said that aloud?

Shit.

Sammy hugged her, feeling panic build rapidly in his chest. Shit shit shit. She’s crying what does he do!?

“I’m sorry I- did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to upset you Alice dear, please don’t- please don’t cry?”

Yeah, this right here was why he was pretty sure he’d never planned on kids.

She nodded into him. Okay, so that answered his earlier question with painful clarity. Shit. Again.

Why couldn’t he be half as eloquent with words as he was with music?

“I’m sorry, little angel. I shouldn’t-” He broke off as she let go of him, scribbling on her writing pad.

No, I’m glad you told me. You needed to get that out.

“What good did it do anyone?” All it did was make Alice upset and make Sammy feel gross for dumping his stupid, upsetting thoughts on a girl already facing her own problems.

Well now that I know what hurts, I have words.

“… All right.” God knew he didn’t have a right to stop her now that they’d both just opened this festering wound. He may as well allow her to continue.

You feel helpless and scared, and you’re frustrated that things don’t feel as good as they did at first when we all got out. You’re afraid it won’t ever feel that good again, and you hate being reminded of all the bad things that happened. Everything hurts all the time and you don’t know when it’ll stop.

Yeah, that was an accurate summary. He swallowed. She tugged on him and he leaned down, stiffening in surprise when she touched his bald head.

After giving it a pat, she went on. But it will. It’ll stop. Things will get better. It’ll be slow, like something growing, but it’ll come.

“Something growing…?”

Think of it like flowers. They don’t bloom in a day. They grow slowly. Progress is measured in inches. Each day is another inch.

The tiniest smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “… Like hair?”

She smiled. Like hair.

He straightened and looked at himself in the mirror before turning back to her.

“Thank you.”

You’re welcome.

“Let’s go; the bathroom is starting to feel cramped with us just… loitering in it. I can… show you the music I was working on? Maybe you could help, if you want? I’m a little stuck. Could use a second opinion.” She beamed, flouncing out of the bathroom with a happy little hop. Sammy glanced back at the mirror.

Maybe it really would get better. Eventually. With people who cared about him, even when he dragged his heels and said stupid things.

Days would pass. He’d been through worse. The knots would loosen. The sun would put some color back into his skin. Working at Mary’s bakery might maybe improve his social skills. He’d make music. Relearn the needed muscle memory to play instruments. He’d put on weight and get used to eating and sleeping on a normal basis again. The walls might lower. His relapses would get fewer and further inbetween. His hair would grow.

He turned and left the bathroom.

I figured he probably forgets to eat and sleep since the ink and its magic basically rendered him capable of living without either.

Next on “I forgot a key element of the au” if I can figure out how to stitch the scenes together: Sammy is the only adult human at home, faced with three distressed toons at two in the morning, and isn’t good with words, what do.

#upperstories #over the rainbow au #bendy and the ink machine #batim alice angel #batim sammy #batim sammy lawrence #man i hope this writing high lasts #why the hell does my best inspiration come when I HAVE NO COMPUTER #i vaguely remember that sammy was supposed to have a soft spot for alice in this au so #sammy and alice bonding time #my writing

69 notes · View notes

trueraretalent · 7 years

Photo

A WALT QUESTIONAIRE

1. Describe the character’s height and build. Is he heavyset, thin, short, rangy?

“I’m skinny or lean or whatever and I think I’m about 5′9? I don’t know.”

shut up alex, you’re 5′8 and you know it.

2. How old is he?

“Nineteen.”

3. Describe his posture. Does he/she carry himself well or does he/she slouch?

“It could probably be better, but I don't slouch too much. Depends on my mood really.”

4. How is his health? Is he fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?

“Obviously I’m nowhere near as fit as Jordan, but - and this is hard to believe, I know - I’m actually a fairly decent runner and did track for a few years. Take after my mum in that aspect, I guess.”

5. How does he move? Is he clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?

“There’s…there’s more than one way to move? Fluid, I don’t fucking know.”

he moves with ease and usually looks comfortable or casual or whatever. idk.

6. How attractive is this character physically? How does he perceive himself in the mirror?

“Why don’t you tell me? Attraction is more of a perception thing based on personal preference so… but I’m not looking at myself and nitpicking, anyway, I know I’m pretty ace.”

was that a fucking pun you little shit.

7. Describe his complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred?

“I’m pale. I’m a white-ass white boy and I’ve got a bunch of tiny freckles all over the place because I’m incapable of tanning.”

8. Describe his hair: color, texture, style.

“My hair is about as straight as I am, and if you’re a sucker for brown hair with shaved sides, boy do I have news for you.”

he doesn’t do much to style it or anything. usually just rolls out of bed and brushes with his fingers. (x)(x)

9. What color are his/her eyes?

“Fuck if I know.”

they’re brown alex. they’re brown.

10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features?

“Dimples deeper than the Pacific ocean.”

11. What are his/her chief tension centers?

“…Shoulders, I guess.”

his first instinct was to say farrah. tf alex.

12. What is the character’s wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does he/she have six of the same suit?

“I don’t even know. I’ve got ripped jeans and a whole range of graphic tees and also some random big name shit. My fashion policy is basically just if it looks cool, I wear it. Pretty casual, ridiculously varied. I don’t really have a colour scheme at all, but hey! If I can throw together a half decent outfit then who cares?”

wardrobe tag: (x)

13. Do his/her clothes fit well? Does he/she seem comfortable in them?

“That’s basically my only criteria, so yeah. That, and if the clothes match whatever the hell my acethetic is.”

that's pun number two, people.

14. Does he/she dress the same on the job as he/she does in his free time? If not, what are the differences?

“If I had a job, I’m sure I’d make myself look professional as fuck.”

i doubt that.

15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando?

“Boxers.”

Speech

1. What does this character’s voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?

“…Am I meant to know this? Middle-range, I guess. A teacher once described my voice as ‘warm’ which was weird but might answer the question?”

imma be honest with you fam, half the time i imagine him with a british accent like his fc, one daniel howell. idk?? dan howell without the accent?? idk???? pretty even and clear, no cracking when he speaks. idk.

2. How does he/she normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does he/she talk easily, or does he/she hesitate?

“Okay - well - right. I just interrupted myself several times so sorry about that but let me give you the run down. I speak pretty easily, but speed varies depending on who I’m talking to or how I’m feeling and all that shit. The more nervous or worried I am, the more I ramble and I speed up a bit, but when I’m angry I’ve got a very even and calm tone somehow and when I’m talking to someone new I try and avoid talking quickly.”

3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?

“Not really.”

when he rambles he does a lot more ‘you know’ and ‘i mean’ without noticing.

4. What language/s does he/she speak, and with how much fluency?

“English. And I know some French from school but that’s about it.”

5. Does he/she switch languages or dialects in certain situations?

“Uhh, no. Breaking out in French at random times would be super fucking weird, considering I know roughly five words.”

…yeah…who would…do that…

i apologise for my son penelope

6. Is he/she a good impromptu speaker, or does he/she have to think about his words?

“I’m a very good impromptu speaker. That’s basically the only speaking I do.”

literally the only time he stops and fully thinks his words through is when he’s full on angry. like legitimately furious. so, not talking to any one in particular here nope not at all i’m sure this will never be relevant at all ever haha, if alex is taking his sweet sweet time to answer, you know you’ve fucked up big time.

7. Is he/she eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?

“A mix of both, I think. It depends on the subject, but talking is one of my strong suits so it’s not like I can’t convey an opinion.”

he’s probably more eloquent when he’s angry. also sarcastic. it's wild, he really gets his anger from vidia.

Mental and Emotional

1. How intelligent is this character? Is he/she book-smart or street-smart?

“Well, I’m not stupid. I ace most tests. My problem is more just figuring out where to ‘apply myself’. I know a lot about things I actually like and certain social issues like the feminist movement and sexuality stuff. And the only reason I passed maths as a sophomore was because I managed to get the teacher to like me after he’d decided that he hated the class with a passion. He wasn’t even subtle about that, actually. He literally announced it in our second week of classes. Yeah, he didn't fuck around. We had that in common. Anyway, befriending people is the closest I’ve got to street smarts.”

alex’s pun count so far: 4, i think.

2. Does he/she think on his feet, or does he/she need time to deliberate?

“I think a lot more on my feet than I probably should.”

3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is he/she more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?

“I’d say more idealistic. I’m an optimist. Apparently those are in short supply nowadays so I’m basically a unicorn. But yeah, probably more intuitive than logical, I’m led by my emotions rather than my head.”

for anyone curious, his mbti is enfp. take that as you will.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

“Imagine a series of private schools full of a mix of the kids of both shockingly successful strippers and the classic pretentious rich assholes. It was a weird juxtaposition. But I’ve gone through all the regular tiers to university.”

5. What are his/her areas of expertise? What, if anything, is he/she interested in learning more about?

“Social issues, probably. I was pretty good at drama. Also I did violin for like 3 years. I still suck but at least I can be rhythmic about it. I don't know what I want to know more about, just a whole bunch of things in general. Biology has always been interesting.”

it hasn't really, he’s just taking any opportunity for a pun.

6. Is he/she an introvert or an extrovert?

“Take a wild guess.”

extrovert, in case it wasn’t clear.

7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is he/she even-tempered or does he/she have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven?

“I’m pretty even-tempered and cheerful. I’ve got energy but I wouldn’t say I’m driven. My focus can be pretty sporadic sometimes.”

8. How does he/she respond to new people or situations? Is he/she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?

“New people are great. Love ‘em. I’m pretty comfortable with most people, really.”

9. Is he/she more likely to act, or to react?

”Umm… react…?”

10. Which is his/her default: fight or flight?

“I see your fight and flight and raise you; freeze.”

probably fight tbh.

11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does he/she appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?

“Most humour, really. I can get bi with jokes, but I really ace sexuality puns - and you know that thing that happens where you create some ridiculously elaborate scenario and get really into? Yeah, I love doing that. I also have a compulsive need to make sarcastic comments. I think it’s a genetic thing.”

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does he/she deal with them?

“Nope.”

13. What moments in this character’s life have defined him/her as a person?

“Being born was pretty significant. Meeting Jordan, definitely. Learning to embrace my sexuality. I don’t know, a bunch of little things. A bunch of people. Fucking Tyler, unfortunately.”

fucking tyler page - this boy’s first serious relationship. listen up fam: it was a mess and fucked him up a little for a while there and basically made him doubt himself and his identity. it was toxic af because i have a compulsive need to give my characters unnecessary angst.

14. What does he/she fear?

“Spiders can fuck right off. And I’ve probably got a crippling fear of rejection or not being good enough, like any true teenager or young adult.”

for an optimist you sound pretty cynical there buddy.

but for real that not being good enough thing.

15. What are his/her hopes or aspirations?

“Good question. I’ll get back to you when I know.”

he has no idea wtf he wants to do with his life he’s gonna be a social worker i guess i just want him to squirm for a bit but probably just having everyone he cares about happy?? what a dork.

16. What is something he/she doesn’t want anyone to find out about him/her?

“Well, it’s not that I don’t want people to know, but half the time I forgot to tell people I’m ace. Not that it’s something you have to tell people at all, but I at this point I have no idea who I’ve told and who I’ve just thought to myself - ‘oh, I should probably let them know at some point’. Other than that, Tyler. It’s just not fun to talk about.”

fucking tyler. basically the whole deal with tyler he likes to keep under wraps and if he does tell someone who doesn’t know he’s definitely never going to mention that the breaking point of the relationship was tyler hitting him.

but yeah, that asexual thing. pull yourself together alex seriously.

Relationships

1. Describe this character’s relationship with his/her parents.

“Mum’s great. We’re close, and we’ve got each other’s back. Usually that just means her intimidating teachers, or us making comments to each other under our breath at events we have to go to or me pretending to be sick to get her out of meetings, but it’s fun. She’s pretty casual, really. Her coworkers probably think I have cancer or something, which is also fun. Wait - they might actually. Oh man, this explains why they were so weird and excessively understanding when they found out that we were fostering kids. They totally thought it was so Mum could find a replacement kid in case I died. Oh man, this explains so much. That’s why they looked so concerned when we adopted Jordan - they totally thought I was going to die. I need to text Mum and see if she can confirm it. Ooh, we could fake my death - actually a coma would be better, that way we can still mess with them and no one will have a heart attack when they see me.”

they have fun.

2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?

“Jordan. I love her, she’s amazing. We’re definitely close, and it took a while to get to that point. She was the angriest 12 year old I’d ever met and I swear, I swear, it took months before I even saw her smile. That was such an achievement for me. We’ve got a pretty normal sibling relationship - we tease each other, we take care of each other, she threatens to punch people in the face, it’s a riot. I’d be glad to be replaced by her if I died of cancer.”

3. Are there other blood relatives to whom he/she is close? Are there ones he/she can’t stand?

“We don’t see them that much, but I have grandparents. Grandma’s got a whole bunch of interesting stories about interesting people and jesus fucking christ, was their marriage nonexistent. I don’t know about Grandpa. I think he might actually be dead. Mum doesn’t really like either very much regardless.”

you think he’s dead?? alex wtf????

4. Are there other, unrelated people whom he/she considers part of his family? What are his/her relationships with them?

“Well, mum’s friends are all practically my aunts and I grew up with their kids, so there’s that. Birdie in particular. She’s basically my little sister and she’s the literal embodiment of sunshine, I swear. I take care of her and Farrah whenever I can, even if the latter makes it difficult sometimes. And all the kids that have stayed with us - except for one or two that were legitimately assholes - are just automatically part of the family.”

don’t mind me just making assumptions about the pixie hollow fam.

5. Who is/was the character’s best friend? How did they meet?

“Jordan, probably.”

6. Does he/she have other close friends?

“Birdie, Farrah, Kennedy, the Belle’s - hey, if I say Scarlett, how annoyed do you think Noah would get? Because Scarlett Blake is fucking adorable and I’d be honoured to consider her a close friend.”

more assumptions don’t mind me.

also why do you need to mess with noah come on now alex.

7. Does he/she make friends easily, or does he/she have trouble getting along with people?

“I’m decent at making new friends, probably because I’m pretty friendly and trustworthy. I make a point of not fucking with people.”

you can't see but he's doing finger guns bc he's a dork.

8. Which does he/she consider more important: family or friends?

“Family, if I have to choose.”

9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has he/she been married more than once?

“Single, I’m all bi myself. And yes, at nineteen I have been definitely been married not once but twice.”

10. Is he/she currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

“Oh no, you totally got me!”

alex please.

11. Who was his/her first crush? Who is his/her latest?

“Some girl called Alesha when I was five. I’m not sure where she is now but I remember that she always had freakishly intricate braids. Lately? I don’t know if you’d call it a ‘crush’, it’s more of an, I don’t know, mutual attraction?”

lol whatever you say alex. you're looking very casual there with your fond smile and lack of eye contact.

12. What does he/she look for in a romantic partner?

“Okay, first off - nice hair. Not saying it’s necessary but, you know, always a bonus. Secondly - can survive without sex. Don't think that one needs much explaining. And, I don’t know, just being comfortable with them. Being able to feel like there isn’t any pressure and like I can talk and they won't get annoyed and like they actually really care. Someone I can have stupid inside jokes with and just have fun with. Someone that makes me happy and that I can make happy.”

alex that's sweet and all but what is your deal with the hair like seriously.

13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does he/she relate to them? If no, does he/she want any?

“Shockingly, I am not a father. But, one day, I want kids. Maybe not any time soon, but yeah, I definitely see it in the future for me.”

if you don't want kids you do not have a chance with alex in the long term.

14. Does he/she have any rivals or enemies?

“Not that I know of. If I do I don't give a fuck. Literally.”

15. What is the character’s sexual orientation? Where does he/she fall on the Kinsey scale?

“I guess you could say I’m pretty ace.”

also biromantic without any real preference.

16. How does he/she feel about sex? How important is it to him/her?

he literally just snorted. he's literally trying not to laugh.

“Okay, seriously, though, what’s the big deal with sticking parts of yourself inside another person? Who looked at the process of making babies and went ah, yes, this will be a big deal for society, the act of sex. And that’s not even mentioning the concept of virginity which was fucking made up to make people feel bad about not having banged someone yet. Oh, and don’t even get me started with the double standards for girls, I mean -”

and that’s enough social justice ranting, thank you alex.

17. What are his/her turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?

“Actually - you know what? I’d probably - reluctantly, mind you - sleep with someone if they went all out. Neither of us would enjoy it, but if someone, like, took me to a super expensive restaurant and hired out a theme park and did that sky writing thing and did the whole rose petals leading to the bedroom and some scented candles - actually, that’s a fire hazard, I don’t need the candles - but if someone went all out, you kind of have to give it a go, you know? Good thing the people I’m attracted to aren’t billionaire hopeless romantics, because it would be pretty uncomfortable for everyone involved. But if you want weird bedroom habits, I’ve been told I talk in my sleep.”

okay thanks for that, nice to know you’re taking this seriously alex. for those wanting some semblance of a proper answer (admittedly to a slightly different question), alex is definitely a kiss-me-hard-and-push-me-up-against-a-wall (or other flat surface) kind of guy. likes biting, cool with hickeys, not that into tongue. go wild kids, this is literally the only character that i can give an answer for this question.

Beliefs

1. Do you know your character’s astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does he/she fit type?

“Birthday’s June 10th, which makes me a Gemini. It fits well enough - good communicators, witty, indecisive, energetic. It works.”

2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in his/her life?

“Yeah, the bible has had a great impact on my life.”

no, they aren't very important to him.

3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

“Doesn't everyone? It's just the normal stuff to be honest; don't be an asshole for no reason, let people do whatever the fuck they want as long as they aren't hurting anyone, don't treat people like objects. That one really annoys the hell out of me.”

4. How does he/she regard beliefs that differ from his? Is he/she tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?

“All for it unless they're disrespecting someone’s existence, then they can fuck off. And people who like pineapple on pizza, what is wrong with you?”

5. What prejudices does he/she hold? Are they irrational or does he/she have a good reason for them?

“You know, there's probably some that society has planted in my subconscious but I try to avoid being consciously prejudiced. Unless you're into that pineapple on pizza bullshit.”

Daily Life

1. What is the character’s financial situation? Is he/she rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

“We're fairly wealthy. Yay for us, I guess.”

2. What is his/her social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected him/her?

“I don't know, I don't think it's changed much. Pretty upper class.”

3. Where does he/she live? House, apartment, trailer? Is his/her home his/her castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does he/she share it with others?

“Condo in Vegas. Sounds exciting, right? It's not bad, everything is open 24 hours and always a ton of tourists so that's good for people watching. The condo’s kind of big, especially for three people, but pretty comfortable. We all get our own rooms - even if Jordan barges into mine whenever she wants. Also the wifi is really good, which is the most important thing.”

4. Besides the basic necessities, what does he/she spend his/her money on?

“Food. Clothes, I guess. Going out to the movies or exploring the city. There's this place down the road that does the best bubble tea, and it's right next to this phenomenal Chinese restaurant so I always end up spending money whenever I go down that street.”

5. What does he/she do for a living? Is he/she good at it? Does he/she enjoy it, or would he/she rather be doing something else?

“Don't have a job, so...”

6. What are his/her interests or hobbies? How does he/she spend his/her free time?

“Hanging out with friends, reading up on something so I don't have to do homework, I’ll go to a party or a club or something if it sounds like it’ll be fun, stuff like that.”

7. What are his/her eating habits? Does he/she skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?

“I don't skip meals, or try not to. Mum’s cooking is pretty hit and miss so we eat at restaurants and get take out a bit more than we probably should, especially if no one can be bothered cooking. I don't drink that much - thank Jordan for that, she actively despises the stuff. Not that she doesn't have good reason to, though.”

Associations

Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is his/her favorite:

1. Color?  

like summer day sky blue. also yellow, tbh.

2. Smell?  

chocolate cake.

3. Time of day?  

late morning.

4. Season?  

spring.

5. Book?

think john green.

 6. Music?  

think fun., walk the moon, paramore.

7. Place?  

sitting around a bonfire, talking and laughing with people.

8. Substance?  

does sarcasm count?

9. Plant?  

sunflower.

10. Animal?

probably like a dog or something. which is ironic bc he’s a cat person.

#if you like puns boy are you in for a fun time #watask #about: a #questionaire: a #this is super late but the others are coming soon fam

8 notes · View notes

iriskitten · 7 years

Text

Once again I have been called the fuck out by @terassaras . How dare you. Rude. Unbelievable. I’m calling the god damn police.

rules: bold what applies to you

I am 5′7″ or taller I wear glasses (I am dagerously close to needing them) I have at least one tattoo I have at least one piercing I have blonde hair I have brown eyes I have short hair (I had it once in high school and it was a Mistake) My abs are at least somewhat defined I have or have had braces There is something I would change about the way I look (I mean I think I’m ok the way I am)

personality:

My Hogwarts house is: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin I am an introvert I like meeting new people (I mean, I like having friends but it turns out I am criminally bad at socializing :/) People tell me that I’m funny (Its mostly just sarcasm and sass) Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me I enjoy physical challenges I enjoy mental challenges (Hi my name is Tenne and I am a slut for puzzle games) I’m playfully rude with people I know well I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it (I keep reacting to things by saying ‘boy howdy’ please stop me) There is something I would change about my personality (I would like to be better at talking to people for sure)

ability:

I can sing well (I can hold a tune, but my actual voice is garbage) I can play an instrument (flute and (very average) piano!) I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (HAH) I’m a fast runner I can draw well (I can certainly hold a pencil and create images) I have a good memory (it seems to be better for trivial information, but it’s definitely one of my strong suits) I’m good at doing math in my head I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch (I went on a cooking frenzy during winter break and now I can cook pretty decent meals) I know how to throw a proper punch (I have laughably low arm strength and I’d probably hurt myself instead)

hobbies:

I enjoy playing sports I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else I have learned a new song in the past week I work out at least once a week I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months I have drawn something in the past month I enjoy writing (I do like planning comics I will never start and anyone who has seen my art blog knows I am incapable of shutting up on the web) Fandoms are my #1 passion (#1 is a bit of a stretch, but I like fandom as a whole) I do or have done martial arts

experiences:

I have had my first kiss(This is gonna sound incredibly stupid but I genuinely can not tell if it is a real thing or a dream I’m mistaking for memory and I don’t trust myself enough to be sure) I have had alcohol (Shhh don’t tell) I have scored the winning goal in a sports game I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting (I did a Voltron s1 and Joker game marathon last summer, so technically TWO) I have been at an overnight event (I mean I guess prom?) I have been in a taxi I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year I have beaten a video game in one day I have visited another country (I lived in china for nearly 10 years, if that counts) I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts

relationship:

I’m in a relationship I have a celebrity crush I have a crush on someone I know I have been in at least 3 relationships I have never been in a relationship (Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh) I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them I get crushes easily I have had a crush on someone for over a year (Ah, middle school.) I have been in a relationship for at least a year I have had feelings for a friend

my life:

I have at least one person I consider a “best friend” I live close to my school (Well, I literally live in school, in a sense) My parents are still together I have at least one sibling (I do now, unfortunately) I live in the United States There is snow right now where I live (There’s still the odd pile here and there) I have hung out with a friend outside of school in the past month (SQUAD and also @rabbitproduce) I have a smartphone I have at least 15 CDs (not quite yet, unless we include some poor purchases from elementary school) I share my room with someone (apologies to everyone I know irl who I complain about this constantly to)

random shit:

I have breakdanced I know a person named Jamie (from high school) I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce I have dyed my hair I’m listening to one song on repeat right now I have punched someone in the past week I know someone who has gone to jail I have broken a bone I have eaten a waffle today I know what I want to do with my life (I have an idea, or at least I like to believe where I am heading is the right direction) I speak at least 2 languages fluently (english and simple mandarin!) I have made a new friend in the past year (>w<)

Anyway, thanks again to @terassaras for tagging! (I swear I will get you back one of these days... >:3c)

For this I tag the usual suspects, @ediblecats @totaleclipseoftheblart and @bokubabe , as well as @rabbitproduce @yoursinsincerely @frenzydaydreamer and @rosewoodring

#asks #shutupten

2 notes · View notes