#the child catcher came to mind

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

A kiss from a rose

John Dory x mute! 1/2

Summary: (takes place after the band split up, and on) John Dory shows up out of nowhere, but with that he brings trouble, the trouble of the mind and the heart.

Words: 1746

Warnings: one moment of violence, no color coding because JD is the only one who talks in this fic

A/N: Goodbye 2023: Hello 2024! First oneshot of the year and seriously so tired after new years. I thank you all for the support on my Floyd oneshot, you guys make writing worth it! Also I imagine you live in a small house, and not a pod. Just cuz I like the idea. (Side A/N: I wrote half of this at 1 am after new years and I have more written it just turned to gibberish after a while and I had to sleep lmao. So stay tuned for a part 2!) I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS 😭😭😭

➷➹➷

The mysterious man showed up out of nowhere, which honestly startled you and your father. He showed up in an armadillo bus that was way out of whack. You were an only child and a quiet one at that. So from a distance, your dad told you to be his danger surveillance.

Upon further examination, you managed to grip your dad's shirt and send him a message that the strange man needed help. With his kindest heart, he goes to lend a hand to him.

You never understood how your father can comprehend what you're saying, you’ve been mute since birth. Nobody knew why, but you just haven’t spoken a word. In fact, your first “word” was you writing on a piece of paper for the first time.

When your dad came back, all he did was make another plate of food and walk out. This time you watched, and paid close attention. Your dad gave the man food and that’s when you realized. He wasn’t a man at all! He seemed to be around your age. It was strangely exciting to see.

You pulled away from the window and sat down to finish your food. You then heard your dad reenter and he mentioned nothing of the exchange, but you didn’t care. It was your dad, he was almost just as quiet as you were.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

Then a year went by, and your dad made sure to take care of you just right. You were a bit older now, and a bit taller. Your little small town was growing smaller with each passing day, and now you knew everything like the back of your hand. However, a certain someone didn’t.

You walk out of your home to begin delivering your dad’s trinkets around town. Use your roller skates to travel from door to door. Handing in tiny things like keychains, dream catchers, or even shoelaces. Your dad was quite the tinker.

Then your heart dropped when you realized you’d have to give food to the armadillo bus inhabitant. So you rolled in front of his bus and pet the lovely creature a few times, before anxiously heading toward the door.

It only took a few knocks when suddenly out popped a guy wearing goggles and a jacket far too thick for the summertime. You handed him his trinket. Which was a keychain with the word “BROZONE” across the small crocheted add-on.

You were about to leave when his voice cut through the silence. “Woah! This looks even cooler than I thought it would! Thanks!” He grins at you, expecting a response, but when silence follows he pushes his goggles onto his head. “Uh…did I come across too strong there? Or are you stunned into silence because you’re looking at a former member of Brozone?”

Your social ticking time bomb was ticking, it was a common small-town rule to not talk to you because you’d start crying or something, but this is new. This is just discomfort. His words turned to mumbles as you began to go on autopilot.

Suddenly a hand touches your shoulders. A billion thoughts run through your head, you look up at him and see his face coming closer. Instincts kick in and you wind up punching him in the face. Straight knock out right hook into the nose.

The crack made you snap back into reality. He’s on the ground, groaning in pain. you don’t like consequences. So instantaneously, who does? So You run off. Your feet pitter-patter in the ground below, scared of what your father would do if you found out.

You hide away after that moment, your dad did find out, but geez did he find it funny. That was the first time you’d heard him laugh in ages. So he put the shop on hold and decided to teach you how to make trinkets instead. So that event never happens again.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

You were in your mid-20s when you started delivering again. However, you made an effort to avoid the armadillo bus with all your being. However, you caught glimpses of Bus-man looking out at you while you worked. Your nerves nearly get the best of you every time you catch it.

When the end of the day came around the corner you made it home and sat on your porch swing. You swung until the sun went down, but in the meantime, you were looking ahead, then caught sight of the man lazily sitting outside too. But when he caught sight of you he suddenly puffed out his chest and grinned. Wiggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a weird look and looked away. What was that? Was he…flirting with you? You punched him in the face! Why was he flirting? After about an hour you felt something hit your shoulder. When you looked, it was a crude paper ball, you opened it. It said: “My name is JD, John, the leader, John Dory, what's yours?”

You laughed when you saw the crossed-off names, you pulled a pencil out of your hair and wrote your name on the paper. You looked up and looked around. Eyes closed in on him as he tried to act natural. You smirked and threw it back at him, hitting him in the head. You gasped and looked away. Your cheeks become red like fire.

The game of toss continued. You and him having a nice conversation about flowers. Which led to him calling you Buttercup. You didn't know why this made you blush, but a nickname was new for you.

Eventually, you told him goodnight and waved to him. He waved too, but you could've sword-he punched the air in excitement before going inside.

It became routine. Every night you two would be outside neighbors, talking to one another on paper. You’d share one fact about yourself, and he'd share several. He was far more open than you were, and he was fine with it.

Until one night it came to the subject of verbal communication.

You explained to him your situation and he started asking so many questions. It made you sort of uncomfortable. Then in a shocking turn of events, he changed the subject to something debatably worse.

“Why did you punch me?”

Your eyes widened and you turned red again. You heard his loud boisterous laughter at your reaction and you felt a knot tie in your stomach. Your heart fluttered and all your hairs stood on end. What was going on?

He then yells out to you, as his first time communicating verbally. “It's alright buttercup! I forgive you!” His grin was infectious, leaving you wanting to see it more often.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

When you started visiting his bus, the two of you became inseparable. Seeing as you were nonverbal you'd usually listen to him spout pure nonsense half the time. Sometimes he'd just break out into song.

Your favorite nights are when he'd break into song and ask you to dance with him. You'd always decline. Which always disappointed him but he was just fine dancing all by his lonesome.

“Baby! I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey!” he'd fall to his knees and outstretched his arms to you “come on! Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels, yeah!” he’d continue singing even as you shook your head.

When he kept dancing, on rare occasions you giggled, very quietly. He'd catch it and make a big deal out of it, causing you to blush and quietly giggle yourself into oblivion.

He'd leave you alone for a while, eventually getting back to telling stories. You explored the but a little while he spoke, he watched you, explaining some messes and creating excuses for others. That is until you stopped in a corner, picking up a vinyl. John shot up. Stumbling over to you.

“That uh. That's-” you looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Which may have been the first time he understood what you were saying without you writing on a piece of paper.

He sighed heavily and slumped onto the couch “it’s a pretty boring story.” he huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms as he leaned into the corner of his couch. “You wouldn't like it.”

You frowned, carrying the vinyl over to him. You sat down beside him and looked him in the eyes. Silently asking him to go on, when your hand landed on his knee. He looked at your hand then at you. “Well buckle up because this is gonna be a long one.”

He tells you everything, you don't flinch, make a face, nor do you judge. His story is depressing. He seems so angry and frustrated about it. Something about the way he talks about his brothers made you want to hug him and comfort him with every bone in your body.

His anger rises as he reaches the end. His nose flaring and his eyes widened. “I just wanted us to be great! To be the best boyband there ever was but no! They kept complaining and-” he was cut off by the look you were giving him. His breath hitched at the sight of your eyes so sincere and caring, it was different for him.

He tore his eyes away and crossed his arms. “I just wish. I just wish we were still brothers.” you gripped his hand squeezing it tight and he seemed to get the message. “I know I know. They're my brothers whether they like it or not.”

You nodded, running your fingers through his tall hair then looking him in the eye. There was a moment of clarity there. Your cheeks turned 6 shades of red, when his eyes snapped lower on your face. You stood up and took a deep breath. You awkwardly pointed at the door. A shy smile on your face as you gravitated to the bus door.

You felt bad at the look of disappointment he had, but also you were still friends at this point. You couldn't ruin that. Not because you would hate being with him, but it's too good to lose. His expression changed back to his regular one and he stood up to help you out.

“After you M’lady Buttercup,”

You rolled your eyes, but stopped for a minute to look at him, thinking about what you should do. In your fear and anxiety. You waved him goodbye. Leaving him wanting much more from you.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

To be continued…

Next

#fanfiction #trolls #trolls band together #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #trolls fanfiction #trolls franchise #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #john dory #john dory x reader #trolls 3 #trolls john dory #john dory trolls #brozone x reader #brozone

[chaotic-multi-fandom]

Holden Caulfield

So, I just finished “The Catcher in the Rye”, and it was very different from what I expected. This book has a reputation of being somewhat extreme, and making teenagers more angry, depressed or even violent because of its main character Holden. However, now that I’ve read it, I fail to see why. I can understand why at the time of its publication Holden’s internal monologue could’ve been seen as alarming, specially to adults, but not as much in the present time, and definitely not as extreme as it said to be. He’s also constantly called annoying, pretentious and an asshole, which he sometimes is, but once again, In my opinion, not to the extreme people present him as. I didn’t mind being inside of his head the entire novel, nor did I ever find him as insufferable as most people seem to, and definitely not a monster, if anything I had a lot of empathy and understanding towards him. 

To me, Holden simply came off as a lost 17 year old boy, grappling with grief, identity, and having lost his innocence at a very young age. He’s clearly suffering from depression, and is generally angry and disillusioned with the world, however given his implied experiences it’s only natural, even just the death of his brother prior to the events of the book cold easily explain his behaviour, however there’s definitely other elements, which choses not to reveal, that have contributed to his current state. 

To me, Holden never came off as extreme or violent, at least not enough to be sent to a psych ward or o incite the alarmed response people seem to have to his character. In fact, despite seemingly being done with the world, and not caring about anything anymore, Holden seems to have this constant thrive and need of protecting the world. Despite all of his utterly depressed, frustrated, and negative inner monologue, he’s constantly through out the novel, carrying out these little acts of kindness towards children. He helps two boys find a section of the museum, and explains to them what everything means, he helps a girl tie up her skates at the roller rink, and rubs off nasty messages left at schools so that the children don’t read them, and most notably he does anything and everything for his younger sister Phoebe.

Most of the time, he’s left in awe of the world when he interacts with these children, specially with Phoebe, it’s the only moments were he even says he feels happy. He seems to be impressed by children’s minds, and has this urge to protect and help them every time he encounters one, going to great lengths (such as buying a limited expensive album for his sister) in order to make their days better. Then, he hears a child sing the song that brings the name of the novel “the catcher in the rye”, he sings about a body catching another body in the rye,. When later in the novel he wonders about he’d want to do in the future, the song is the only thing that comes to mind. He imagines that he’s in that field, where children are playing near a cliff, and he’s the one that catches them and leads them away from the cliff, he’s the catcher in the rye. To him, this means saving children from losing their innocence as young as he did. It’s the only thing he can imagine himself doing. 

This truly shows that Holden, is in no way some disturbed violent mind, he’s just a 17 year old child, who lost his innocence at a very young age due to traumatic experiences which he’s only now processing, he’s also going through the grief of his brother’s death, which his parents don’t help with, his mother also suffering from depression, and his father always being away as a big shot lawyer. He’s disillusioned with the world and humanity, because most of his life experiences, and contacts with older role models have been very negative, including the one with his older brother whom he once had a good relationship with, but is now a shame to the family due to his work as a prostitute. He’s desperate for the children around him not to suffer the same fate. 

While he may seem utterly disgusted and done with the world, I think that he actually holds a lot of hope in his heart for his sister Phoebe and all the children he meets. Holden’s problem isn’t that he has no hope left, it’s that he has too much of it no matter how hard he tries to repress it. He holds a hope so great for the world, that he can’t help but stay despite his suicidal thoughts. Holden, fantasises about ending his life several times throughout the novel, but then, as soon as he’s even close to getting sick with a cold for example, he becomes extremely anxious, scared and even obsessive, thinking that he’s going to die, which he desperately doesn’t want to do. Even when he is attacked with those suicidal thoughts, which never last long, he’s always immediately reminded of Phoebe, and realises he couldn’t bare her going through grief. 

Holden desperately wants to stay in this world, and he’s constantly looking for reasons to do so, he’s in awe of the purity and innocence of children, and wishes the world would be kinder and better for them. Holden is lonely angry and depressed, which can result in him acting violently in instances, but essentially, he’s desperately trying to improve the world around him, and repeatedly not giving up on it. As he puts it, he never hates anything for long.

Well, this had been my small Holden rant, however do be aware that, I'm writing this approximately 30 minutes after finishing the book, so my ideas aren't completely settled, and given that I haven't looked AT ALL into actual analysis of the novel, I may be way off, and made a fool of myself but oh well. At the end of the day they're almost no wrong answers when it comes to interpretation, and this is how I personally perceived Holden Caulfield.

#the catcher in the rye #the catcher in the rye analysis #book rambles #book analysis #not actually an analysis but still #holden caulfield #phoebe caulfield #jd salinger

[bradshawsvinyl]

Game Changer: Chapter Two

As the new clubhouse reporter for the San Diego Padres, Alexandra Garcia never expected to find herself entangled in a whirlwind romance with the teams star player, Bradley Bradshaw.

EEEEE IM EXCITED!!!!!!!!! bradley is so cutesy!

warnings: none

After meeting with Pete, Alexandra couldn’t help but feel excitement over the prospect of getting to interview players after games. She has loved baseball ever since she was a child. Fond memories of the sport surrounded her.

Tonight was the Padres first home game of the season. They were playing fellow California team the Los Angeles Dodgers. Alexandra sat up in the press box and couldn’t help but smile at her new job. She took notes on the score and the players. In the second inning Bradley hit a solo home run. By the eighth inning, the Dodgers were leading 1-3. That was until catcher Bob Floyd hit a grand slam. The stadium erupted in cheers and Alexandra couldn’t help but to clap along. Thanks to Bob, the Padres picked up their first win of the season.

After the game, Alexandra found herself bustling around the clubhouse, preparing to interview players for the post game coverage. As she makes her way through the crowded space, she spots the star of the game Bob Floyd.

Approaching him with a warm smile, Alexandra introduces herself and extends her hand in greeting. "Hi, Bob. I'm Alexandra Garcia, the new clubhouse reporter for the Padres. Mind if I ask you a few questions about tonight's game?"

Bob looks up from his coffee, his tired eyes lighting up at the sight of Alexandra. "Of course, Alexandra. Fire away," he replies, his voice kind.

As Alexandra concludes her interview with Bob she couldn’t help but to feel proud of herself. Her first interview was finished and Bob had opened up to her and given her some useful information to use in her coverage. Just as she prepares to move on to her next interview she, a subtle movement catches her eye.

Looking up, she sees Bradley pause his conversation with outfielder Jake Seresin and give her a wave from across the room. A surprised smile meets her face as she waves back. “Get it together.” She thinks to herself. He was just another player and she really shouldn’t put herself in any awkward positions.

As Bradley returned to his conversation with Jake, Alexandra couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy. It wasn’t a secret that Bradley was easy on the eyes. His tall frame and big brown eyes could make any woman fall to her knees. And on top of that, he was one of the highest paid players in Major League Baseball.

Finishing up his conversation with Jake, Bradley decides to approach Alexandra. For some reason he felt connected to her. With a sense of determination, he made his way through the packed clubhouse to where she was sitting.

“Hey,” he said as Alexandra looked up from her laptop where she was reading over her interview with Bob.

Startled, Alexandra looks up to find Bradley standing in front of her. A warm smile gracing his lips. “Oh um hi Bradley. Great game today!” She replies, trying to hide the surprise and excitement in her voice.

“I just came over here to say great job with Bob.” Bradley continues, “It’s not easy to get players to open up like that.” Alexandra felt a rush of gratitude at Bradley’s praise. “Thank you,” she said blushing nervously. “I appreciate that coming from someone who knows how to command attention on the field.”

Bradley laughed, eyes sparkling with admiration. “Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink sometime? You know to celebrate your first day on the job.”

Alexandra’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect of getting to hang out with Bradley outside of work. “I would love to!” She answered quickly.

With a sense of relief, Bradley returned her smile. His brown eyes alight with anticipation. “Are you free tomorrow? I know a great place not too far from here.”

“Tomorrow sounds perfect!” Alexandra nodded eagerly.

Before parting ways, Bradley hesitantly mustered up the courage to ask “Hey would it be alright if I could get your number? You know just to confirm details and figure out where to pick you up tomorrow.”

Alexandra was stunned but nodded her head and pulled out her phone to give to Bradley.

DID HE JUST ASK ME OUT?? She thought to herself excitedly. She couldn’t wait to go home and tell her friends about her hot date with the Padres best outfielder.

#jake seresin x reader #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster x oc #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x oc #jake hangman seresin #hangman x oc #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #coyote x reader #my writing #game changer

[angel-trapped]

Daniel's Mementos

This is dedicated to @bringmefoxgloves, @iinsawdious, and @allegedly-writer, as well as the Sawtuals server as a whole. Without their collaborative efforts, this ficlet may had never come to life. Enjoy!

Raising a child is no easy feat. The physical and emotional toil required to provide them with the essentials is only one part of the equation. Good parenting demands a big heart and an open mind; instilling morals and values in them, but simultaneously coming to terms with them becoming their own person and making the deliberate decision to love and care for them regardless.

And in Daniel Matthews’ case, it takes a village.

As tempting criticizing Eric Matthews for his flawed character was, Officer Rigg still cared for him—and by extension his family—deeply; after all, he and Eric’s only child shared a name. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and Rigg would always be Daniel’s favorite uncle-by-choice. Rigg may have often let his emotion get the better of him, but at his core, he was kind-hearted, and this became apparent through his demeanor towards his godson. Even when Daniel began to act out and commit petty crimes following this parents’ divorce, Rigg never once chastised him for it. Instead, he made a conscious effort to spend as much time with him as possible. One autumn afternoon, as Eric was going over records, Rigg retrieved a catcher’s baseball glove from his file cabinet and handed it to him. ‘I’ll take care of the rest,’ Rigg said, ‘You go practice with Daniel. He has his big game at the end of the month, remember?’. Thanks to Rigg’s efforts, Daniel got to spend the evening with his dad; and for once, no arguments ensued between father and son.

Daniel’s feelings on Detective Kerry were tumultuous to say the least; at best, she was one of his father’s more capable coworkers, and, at worst, she was a homewrecker. Yet, when Allison stopped by Eric’s apartment to drop off some work-related documents—coincidentally while Eric was absent—Daniel would be faced with a decision; either remain in his father’s sparsely furnished and barely decorated apartment for the rest of the weekend or beg Allison to take him with her. Although perplexed at first, she agreed, and the two of them ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in the food court of a local mall. As much as he did not want to admit it, Allison was a surprisingly good conversationalist; she seemed genuinely interested in what Daniel had to say, and even seemed to have retained more about his interests than his own father ever had, such as his favorite bands. In reality, all Daniel needed was someone to talk to that wasn’t his overworked mother or emotionally unavailable father, and Allison happened to be the most suitable candidate. Their outing came to an abrupt end when Eric phoned Daniel and demanded he return to the apartment, which he did, but not before he slipped the palm-sized plushie that was mistakenly included with Allison’s order into his backpack. Despite his everchanging sentiments towards her, Daniel never had the heart to throw the toy out.

Detective Hoffman had always been an intimidating guy in Daniel’s eyes. He never spoke more than necessary, and when he did, his icy gaze and gravelly tone left no room for sympathies. The loss of his sister seemed to have cause something to shift within him though, and while that would ultimately be for the worst, for a brief moment in time it brought the two of them together. It all began when Mark overheard a heated conversation between Daniel and his father as he walked by the latter’s office; turns out, one of Daniel’s classes that semester required him to construct a battlefield diorama. Mark was able to diffuse the situation between the two by offering to drive Daniel to the nearest craft supplies store during his break. As the two of them paced up and down the aisles, Daniel couldn’t help but wonder how Mark’s extensive knowledge on maquette creation came about. ‘A man’s gotta have a hobby’ was all he offered as an explanation. Over the following weeks, Daniel and Mark would meet at the station’s break room every Friday and diligently work on the project. While their collaborative efforts were initially silent, Mark managed to get the younger Matthews to come out of his teenage angst-coated shell; in a bittersweet way, Daniel’s tangents were incredibly reminiscent of Angelina. Daniel couldn’t help but ultimately resent the submission date, as it signaled their joined efforts coming to an end. Only after he’d returned home from school did he notice that a soldier figurine had mysteriously found its way into one of his jacket pockets.

Agent Perez was the newest addition to the team. Truth be told, her and Daniel had met in person no more than a couple of times, yet Lindsey still managed to make a good impression. She seemed incredibly intelligent and devoted to her work, yet compassionate and understanding when the situation required it, at least in comparison to her borderline neurotic partner. Besides, Allison seemed to grow increasingly fond of the young FBI agent, and thus, so did Daniel by association. When Daniel dropped by the station donning his very own painstakingly handcrafted cut-off, Lindsey had taken notice almost immediately; or so Daniel assumed, since the following week, Allison handed him a fist-sized pouch on Lindsey’s behalf. To his delight, Daniel discovered it was filled to the brim with weathered pins and handmade patches bearing the logos of several of his favorite bands. The two of them couldn’t help but have a lighthearted laugh about how unassuming Lindsey appeared initially, at least in comparison to what her younger counterpart must have dressed like. That same evening, Daniel spent hours meticulously planning out the perfect arrangement of his new vest collectibles.

Following the McDonald’s incident, Allison chewed Eric out for his abhorrent behavior towards his own son for the entire department to witness. And as humiliated and infuriated Eric may have been at the time, he could not deny that his detractors were in the right; Eric Matthews was an emotionally distant and primarily absent father that was often too consumed with his own life to truly care about Daniel’s well-being. The state of his post-divorce residence only made things worse. His apartment was filthy, furniture was sparse, and décor was nearly nonexistent, not to mention that the fridge was rarely stocked with even so much as the essentials. Most importantly, Eric never seemed to make a conscious effort to spend quality time with his own flesh and blood. That same weekend, as Daniel is dropped off by his mother, Eric greets him with a hug. Albeit bewildered and incredibly hesitant at first, Daniel couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. The two of them spend the remainder of the evening seated side by side on the carpeted floor—which felt surprisingly plush under Daniel’s fingertips for a change—munching on takeout as they rewatched the only somewhat decent film included Eric’s dusted covered VHS collection, ‘Happy Gilmore’. Father and son were able to put their differences aside and spend genuine quality time together once more.

Regrettably, while this would’ve been one of Daniel’s last memories of his dad, at the very least it was a good one.

Because when all was said and done, the only ones left behind to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of Jigsaw’s carnage were Daniel, his mementos, and the ever-fading memories of those who cared about him the most.

#saw #saw au #saw headcanons #daniel matthews #eric matthews #allison kerry #daniel rigg #mark hoffman #lindsey perez #sawposting #it has been an emotional couple of days over at the sawtuals discord server lads

[loserlovesattention]

Blood of Fire Chapter Four Jacaerys Velaryon x Servant Reader

Chapter Summary: Helyn tells you about her past, and The Princes make a new friend.

Additional Tags: @number-0-iz @akinatrix​

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader

Gifs: More Helyn and little Jace 

Chapter 4

“My mother died giving birth to me,” Helyn explained over breakfast the next morning. “Her name was Alys, Or so I’ve been told.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” She pauses to wipe her fingers on her apron, before grabbing another piece of bacon. “It’s not like I knew her. Or my father either, no one ever told me about him. I highly doubt anyone even knows who he is. He could be a lord, or a rat catcher, or dead for all I know.” 

You set down your spoon to ponder it all. What must it be like to have no father or mother? You had been so close to your own parents, it was unfathomable to imagine.

“But your mother was a maid here?” You finally say.

“Aye, a kitchen wench apparently. She washed all the dishes, scrubbed all the floors, fetched all the ingredients, even prepared some of the meals herself. She did such a good job, Lady Jeyne felt inclined to take me in and train me in the fine art of servitude!” She laughed, before shoving another spoonful of porridge into her mouth. 

“How old were you?”

She stops to swallow before answering. 

“I was six the first time I came to Dragonstone. Eight when I first began my duties.” 

Six? That seemed so young. What had you been doing at six? Minor fieldwork with your family, and playing with the other village children?

“Were you the only child?”

“That first year, yes. It was desperately lonely. You may laugh, I made up my own friends in my head when I played by myself. That, or I would wander around the castle and make up stories. You can probably guess how put off a lot of people were when they stumbled into a child, walking around and talking to herself.” 

You did not laugh, actually finding it quite sad. Your mind conjures images of a young, sad looking Helyn. Aimless, the little girl paces back and forth muttering gibberish. Lost and alone and aching for a friend.

“The next four years were bearable though,” She continued cheerily. “I did make friends with two others my age. Dayle, a stableboy, and a new maid named Maude. Like you, she started training at eight and played with me when lessons were over.”

“And where are they now?”

“Well, Dayle is still a stableboy. Of course he grew bored playing with girls. So when he isn’t spending time with his mules and his horses, he’s with other serving men and grooms. And Maude…”

Her eyes flit away to focus on the ground. For the first time she looks unsure, uncomfortable even. 

“And Maude?” You prod, gently.

“She… died last Winter.”

You let that sink in. Even just hearing of it shocked you. 

“How old was she?” 

“She would have been ten, if she held out until Spring.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence between you. It must have been so awful, to lose a close friend you could finally call your own. Not only to bond with them for four years- a substantial period of time in your mind- but to suddenly have them stripped away…

“That is horrible. The Gods can be cruel…” It’s something you heard adults say often, especially at funerals. 

You could remember when little Tom, the youngest son of the local crofter, was crushed beneath a plow and died two days later. Your father had held you close the night when he broke the news. 

You did not know Tom very well, he just being a toddler, but it was still strange to you.

 “Papa, I thought only old people should die?” You had asked.

That only made him pull you closer, “That isn’t always the case Y/N. All sorts of people die. Young, old, weak or strong. The Gods work in strange mysterious ways when they choose our fate for us…Perhaps they thought Tom was too good for this world.”

You had gone with your parents when they took Tom away- his body bundled in a sack and hurled onto a burial cart. Those agonizing screams the crofter's wife had made, you could remember as clear as day. 

You did not know how to react, you were still so stunned… You could only watch as the cart dashed away, and Tom's mother collapsed to the ground hysterically howling in pain. 

Did Helyn scream like that when Maude died? You wonder, Did she even get to say goodbye?

“What- what took her?”

Helyn shakes her head, fixating back on her plate.

“The shakes. I caught it too. And so did the footmen, and the cooks, Lady Jeyne, and Maester Raff… We all caught it. For a fortnight the castle sealed its gates shut to stop the spread. I thought we were all done for. Then…”

“You recovered?”

“Aye, we recovered. One day, I was in and out of it- jumping from this world to the next. The fever was bad, but trying to breathe was worse. Then the next thing I knew, one of the older maids was feeding me and telling me my fever had broken. That in a day's time, I could be on my feet again… But not all of us made it.”

“Did you see her before she…”

“Died? No. She died while I was still asleep. I didn’t get to see her off either. All those who died were brought to the training yard and burned as soon as possible, to prevent any contamination. After that, their ashes were thrown into the sea.”

You reach out, and squeeze her hand in yours. She squeezes back playfully.

“I was sad, for a while I admit. Then I thought; Maude would hate the lumpy dumpy lowly sack of shlump I’d become. I was slacking in my duties, which old Jeyne did not appreciate, and despised the things I used to love. It all hit me then; I could die any day, just like Maude, and I would die angry and unloved! What kind of a life is that?”

She finished her food in one giant spoonful, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“I learned to love everything I have now! Yes the days are long, and the work can be hard… But I have a roof over my head! Food on my plate! A little time to make my own fun! Good company-” She pinches both your cheeks, making you yelp and smack her away. 

“And I get to live another day! What more could one want?”

“Do you miss her?”

She thinks a moment, then shrugs. “Sometimes. I try not to think about her too much, I don’t want to turn into that lazy miserable oaf again. Besides,” 

She wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“I’ve got you now don’t I? So you better not go dying on me.”

                                                          ~*~*~

That evening, yet again, you were summoned to The Eastern Courtyard.

“You summoned us, My Princes?” 

“Yes. Y/N, Helyn, this is Glen. He’s the new apprentice to the armorer.”

Slightly hidden behind Jace’s frame, there is a small redheaded boy. He must be a year or so younger than you, with a freckled face and clothes two sizes too big for him. He’s so scrawny, is your first thought. Quickly followed by, he’s so nervous. 

You approach him and offer your hand, like how you used to greet other children back home.

“I’m Y/N. That’s Helyn.”

He does take your hand, eventually, and you feel how cold and clammy his palm is. Before he drops the hold as if he had been shocked by your touch.

Has he ever met a girl before? You wonder.

“So Glen, you do speak don’t you?” Helyn teases, and you shoot her a look.

“He does!” Lucerys says, missing Helyn’s sarcasm. “We spoke in the stables this morning when we met! He’s from Trawlers Town ya know?”

Jace scoffs at that, yanking Luke back to his side.

“It’s ‘Did you know’ not ‘Ya know?’ What would mother think if she heard you talking like that? You desperately need to work on your grammar, before the Ladies and Gentlemen come.”

Your ears perk up at that, enough to take your attention away from the small boy before you. Lady Jeyne had made mention of such plans, but kept the details vague. Perhaps the Princes knew more, and were willing to share such details.

“So there are more nobles coming? Where from? When?” 

“Maester Raff made the dispatchments today. He says we can expect up to three new squires, and ten Gentlemen from The Crownlands and The Stormlands. Mother only wanted Ladies from the houses Velaryon, Celtigar, Stokeworth, Darklyn and Baratheon. We do not know who will accept the offer, but all will be set in two months' time.”

Lady Jeyne had sworn your training would be finished in time for the nobles' arrival. Now you had an idea of what to expect. You longed to join the other maids, and serve alongside them. Not that you resented Lady Jeyne in any way, but it was still quite isolating to be set apart from the others. To be separated. 

“I pray we aren’t overwhelmed,” Helyn says, “Summer will end soon and resources may be tight.”

“Maester Raff says we have enough goods stored to last a ten year Winter.” Jace corrects, “We should all pray the coming Lords don’t have the appetite of a ten year Winter.”

You all chuckle at that, except for Glen of course.

“So Glen,” You begin, “What did you do for fun in Trawlers Town?” 

The pale boy keeps his eyes downcast when he answers you. Even his voice was small.

“We fished… And tied nets… And built boats-”

“Fascinating.” Helyn interjects, “Did you play with the other children there at all?” 

Glen nodded slightly, looking up briefly.

“A little, when we had time… Sometimes we played at knights or dragonlords.” 

“Good.” Jace patted the boy's shoulder firmly, making him flinch. “Are you familiar with the history of Aegon The Conqueror?” 

The boy's face lights up at that, obviously thrilled by the story- just as you all were.

                                                              ~*~*~

Lucerys stood as tall and proud as he could, straining to glare up into the eyes of his older brother. As ridiculous he may have looked with your belt still strapped around his head, he looked every inch a king in your imagination.

“Yield now, and you may remain The Lord of The Iron Islands. Yield now, and your sons will live to rule after you. You see my army outside your walls. You see my dragons high above your head.”

“What is outside my walls is of no concern to me!” Jace exclaimed, imitating the voice of a cruel wicked old man. The hoarse, scratchy tone giving you gooseflesh.

  “My walls are strong and thick!”

“But not so high as to keep out dragons. Dragons fly.”

“I built it in stone. Stone does not burn!”

Glen steps forward now, suddenly brave, drawing his practice sword.

“Shall I kill him now, Your Grace?”

Lucerys only needs to hold up his hand to order restraint. He reassures Glen with a curt little nod, before turning to his brother one final time.

“Very well, you have made your decision. When the sun sets, your line shall end.”

Jace, as angry and petulant as you’ve ever seen him, spits to the ground and marches defiantly back to his imagined castle. 

“How dare you turn your back on your King!” Glen calls after him.

“He is no King of me!” Jace calls back.

You place your hand on Glen's shoulder, calm and confident as Visenya.

“Fear not Lord Tully, my brother speaks true. Stones do make for perfect ovens.”

Instead of answering, Glen shrugs you off and makes to follow Luke when he walks past you. Was he hoping for a fight? You thought, Surely he knew that wasn’t how Harren fell?

“There will be no need to raise the troops, or mount your dragons,” Luke says, “I will handle this business alone. For years Harren Hoare has made this land suffer. Now it will be him and his family,” He gives you the signal of his signature hand wave. “Who will suffer the most.”

You both recognize the signal, and make to join Jaces side- Helyn dragging Glen behind her. Immediately, you take up the role of one of Harrens many wives.

“Husband, did those terrible dragonlords leave? Surely they understand they have no chance against our high walls!” 

Jace shakes his head, before lifting and inspecting an imaginary goblet. 

“Valyrians are stubborn and stupid! This one especially, he insists I kneel and call him King. If I do so I can call myself “Lord of The Iron Islands”. Bah!” He sits on the ground, Helyn sitting beside him.

“But father, what about his dragons?”

“Fire does not burn stone!” Jace roars, “We are as safe as can be! And when he least suspects it, we’ll send a servingman to kill his dragons while they sleep!”

He seems to finish his drink, and you pretend to refill it for him. When you notice Glen still standing apart from the group, awkward and uncertain, you gesture to him.

“Son, come and join us. We must break our fast.”

Gingerly, Glen sits on Jace’s other side, fiddling with his fingers.

“Lord of The Iron Islands… I am King of The Iron Islands and The Riverlands! My ancestors conquered this land first- it is my right! I raised this castle! Not long ago it was I Lord Tully bowed to and called King!” 

Helyn cackled as menacingly as she could. 

“He’ll call you King again before long, when this so-called conqueror fails. What has he conquered anyways? A few measly castles and low lords!”

You pretend to serve them all supper, and sit across from your imagined family. To signal Luke, you make sure to speak your next words loud and clearly. 

“One of the men at arms told me he said, “When the sun sets, your line shall end.” But look about! The sun has passed setting, and the night is clear and still! No usurper can cast down the might of House Hoare!” 

Jace raised his goblet high above his head, shouting with all the might he could muster.

“To House Hoare! May we destroy the Dragons and reign for a thousand years!”

You all echo his toast, raising your own imagined goblets, and drinking deep.

On cue, Luke came rushing upon you. Flapping his arms and roaring, heaving breaths of invisible fire.

Together you all collapse to the ground, howling in pain. In your mind's eye you see tall towers of stone collapsing around you, melting like wax candles. When you look at your hands, you see the charred flesh blister and pop. As you look upon your family, in these final moments, you see horrible ashen corpses screaming in their death rattle. 

“Jacaerys! Lucerys!” 

The castle's Maester stands before you, his arms crossed across his chest. With all those chains around his neck, you would've thought he’d make more noise at his approach. Perhaps we were screaming too loud, you think and flush with embarrassment. 

“What do you think you are doing?”

Jacaerys shrugs when he gets to his feet.

“We were just playing, Maester Raff.”

Lucerys nodded excitedly. 

“I am Aegon, and Jace is Harren Hoare! I was just about to burn and conquer Harrenhal!”

The Maesters face seemed to pale, and a certain look crossed his features. He schooled his expression before you could determine what was wrong. Was it fear? Anger? Jace had sworn there was no problem with playing, Princess Rhaenyra didn’t mind-

“Your mother wishes to speak to you in the Solar, there is…” His eyes flit over to you and Glen, still laying on the ground, before returning to The Princes. 

“There is some news. Go now, you can resume your game tomorrow.”

Lucerys removes the belt still strapped to his head and hands it back to you, before the two boys rush back towards the castle.

“I’m sorry!” Glen cries as soon as they vanish.

“They asked me to play with them! They said it was alright! They said-”

The Maester silences him with a shake of his balding gray head, seeming to relax a bit.

“It was nothing you did children. Come now, supper is almost ready.” 

In a flash the old man turned and swept back across the yard- his chains rattling with him.

Helyn helped you to your feet, and readjusted your bonnet- definitely sitting askew atop your head.

“I wonder what the news could be. Seeing how upset Raff was, it probably isn't good.” 

“What if The King has died?” Glen squeaked. “Then that would make The Princess The Queen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! The King is in perfect health. I hear he has hunting parties every day, and throws balls and banquets every night!”

“That’s not what Dayle says. Dayle says The King is rotting from the inside out- that he could die any day.”

Helyn rolls her eyes at that, before leading your little group back towards the outer door. 

“Dayle is a stupid stable boy who’s never been to Kings Landing! He’s never seen the King in person, so what can he know? I’m willing to wager-”

The rest of the evening fades in your memory. You can remember pondering over dinner just how things would change if the King truly was dead. Whether or not you'd join the new Queens household in King's Landing. You imagining what The Iron Throne may look like. How large The Red Keep would be…

But you hear nothing about The King's death, or The Princesses elevation. In fact you hear no news at all, good or bad. The household staff carry on their routines without a hitch. Maester Raff returned to his cell when he finished his meal, as usual. When the kitchen is cleared, the men retire to their apartments. You follow the rest of the maidstaff back to your chamber when you finish, keeping your ears open for any gossip- only to hear mindless chatter of no importance. 

When mother came to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight, you had asked her if she heard anything. 

“The only news I know is that we’re expecting a shipment of soap, spices and fresh herbs tomorrow. Nothing too exciting I’m afraid. Why dear, what is it?” 

“It’s just… The Maester stopped us while we were playing. He told The Princes to go to their mother, The Princess. He said there was some news-”

“What concerns them does not concern us.” She says firmly. “They are Targaryens, remember? We worry about their needs, while they worry about the needs of the realm. Besides, if we are not properly informed, then it is of little matter. A rumor, or a family squabble I’m sure.”

When she sees the uncertainty on your face, she gives you a reassuring smile and smooths the hair off your forehead.

“If The Princes want to tell you, they will. But do not ask; it is not our place to impose. Do you understand? It is none of your business, unless they want it to be.”

“Yes mama, I understand.”

She kisses you one last time, before blowing out the lantern just above your bunk; submerging you in darkness.

 You do not dream at all; at first. Your mind filled with a calm soothing emptiness… Until a fire blooms out of the abyss. A small flickering candlelight that soon grows bigger and bigger- engulfing the entire space. When it eventually moves over to you, white hot pain completely overwhelms your senses.

The sheer terror of it all hits you suddenly. When you try to run away, you find the nearest door stubbornly sealed shut. The stone walls around you seem to materialize out of nowhere, like the flames, they grow higher and higher. Encasing you into this prison.

The fire finds you again, and the pain returns. This time there is nowhere to flee, and you have no choice but to let it happen. It begins at your ankles and rises up your legs, your waist and to your torso. Much like your past imaginations, your skin singes, cracks and blisters in the heat- the horrible smell of it fills your senses until you can practically taste it. You desperately want to vomit, but the ash in your lungs prevents it. 

Soon it is all too much to bear, and you desperately wish for The Gods to have mercy; to end your suffering and just kill you. The last thing you see being the crumbling stone ceiling above you, and the yellow inferno consuming it all-

You wake up sweating and shaking profusely. It takes a moment for reality to wash over you, and the real world slowly comes back into focus.

I was never in Harrenhal, you think to yourself. I never left my bed. I’m still at Dragonstone, as safe as can be. It was just a bad dream. 

You let your racing heart slow to its usual tempo, and take long deep breaths. When all is well, you move to push your blanket away and go to the kitchens. Some water will do me some good, you think. 

Then there is a hand covering your mouth. 

“Agh!” You gasp, and wiggle to get away.The fear from your dream creeping back.

“Shh it’s just me.” The small voice of a young girl says above you. Helyn.

You push her hand away.

“Helyn, it’s the middle of the night! What are you-”

“Shh!” She hisses. “Listen,” 

The room grows silent again, the only sounds you hear being the heavy breathing of the other maids. To your right, you hear the sound of shifting blankets and someone turning on their side. You almost speak again, demanding Helyn go back to bed, until another sound rings out. It is a distant, shrieking sound. It reminded you of the screaming Luke had made in the yard earlier that day, and the sounds you would make when you pretended to be a monster. 

It wasn't loud enough to hurt your ears, or rattle your bones. But clear and distinctive enough to make out, even this far into the castle.

Gently, Helyn speaks the words you already know.

“The dragons are screaming.”

#Jacaerys Velaryon #jacaerys strong #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #fanfiction #Self Insert #hotd #house of the dragon

[kaaytea]

hi kay hello hello!! can i request a miyuki fic where he goes to an amusement part (or disneyland, whichever u can relate more to or whichever would be easier to write) with his girlfriend on a date and they do just simple cute stuff or something like that?!??!!

'Magic' Moment

Warnings: female reader, I don't think I used any pronouns so technically could be gn reader, I've never been to Tokyo Disney, not edited...I'm just going off of my general knowledge for this one

A/n: Fun fact, I am a Disney parks fiend (and I'm actually in the car to visit one rn 🤭) I'm sorry this took so long, dear. I hope it's what you're looking for <3

----------------------------------------------------------

One of the few perks of being with a pro baseball player is being gifted tickets to Tokyo Disney. Mind you, it doesn't happen often because of how tight Kazuya's team's schedule is, but every once in awhile, during particularly rough off-seasons, management would pay for the player's and their families admission to the park.

When he first signed onto his team, this wasn't something Kazuya would take advantage of, but when you came into the picture and insisted he enjoy a day off, he couldn't refuse. It's become sort of a tradition now; every time tickets are offered, Kazuya takes them.

Kazuya never really understood the appeal of the "Disney experience" (as you called it) but you loved being enveloped by it—gushing on and on about the twinkling music and exciting sights and tastes around the park. Seeing you so happy resulted in Kazuya feeding off of your joy; even if he didn't fully understand it, he found that it was an enjoyable experience with you by his side.

"Hurry, before the fireworks end!" You called over your shoulder. You were a few paces in front of Miyuki, paving a way to your destination by weaving in and out of the crowds.

"I'm right behind you," Miyuki assured. He snuck a glance at his watch as he side stepped to avoid ramming into a stroller. "We still have a few minutes until they start."

You slowed your pace to grab ahold of your partner's hand; getting separated in the hoards of people migrating to watch the fireworks would setback your plans. Kazuya linked his fingers with yours, giving a light squeeze in confirmation that he was with you.

"I know, but we have a small window of time where the carousel is 'child-free'," You stated. Your walking came to a halt at the corner of a street to let an elderly couple and their grandchild cross in front of you. You looked at Kazuya on your left. His face was lit with the warm light flooding out from the confectionary shop on the corner you stopped at, but what would have been an etheral view was soiled by the amused smirk spreading across his face.

"What's that look for?"

Miyuki breathed out a laugh and started leading the two of you forward, as you had continued to stare at him.

"You're always so worried about making it to the carousel—and stop pouting," he said, poking at your cheek with his free hand. "We always make it in time; you have this down to a science by now."

You grined at the praise of your planning. There wasn't much you were organized with, but when it came to carving out a special day like this, you were outstandingly efficient.

You were going to gloat about getting praised by Japan's most meticulous catchers, but the chiming of music fluttered through your ears and sapped whatever words that had been on your tongue. The music pulled your attention to your destination, a pavilion covered in glitzy lights and warm, inviting colors, circled by pure white steeds: the carousel.

Your heart internally squealed in exciment as you pulled Miyuki towards the attraction, he followed close behind you—half afraid that you'd rip his arm from it's socket if he refused—and shook his head at your childishness.

The music and glow wrapped around you like a warm hug when you entered the beginning of the queue for the ride. There wasn't a line at all, infact, there were only a few people on the ride, as most of the guests had rushed off towards the castle to watch the fireworks show.

Your planning had, once again, proven true.

The pair of you waited patiently at the entrance of the ride. Miyuki's thumb brushed against your knuckles intermittently as you stalked the spinning circle of horses like a cat.

Eventually the ride came to a stop and the few attendees started filing off from the direction of the cast members posted around the gated area. Once the previous occupants were safely off, one of the cast members walked over to where you were both waiting.

The carousel attendant, a young man just about college age, greeted the pair of you with a smile as he reached to unlatch the gate door, only to do a double take at your boyfriend. The young man's eyes lit up in realization of who was standing in front of him.

Kazuya just smiled and gave a practiced 'hello' to the obvious fan. The man stumbled out a response before turning to address you as well.

The attention Kazuya drew in public took some getting used to when you first started dating. People were generally polite, but the staring and hushed whispers would still eat away at you patience; there was no blending in when with Kazuya. He had been dead set on keeping your relationship private, which it still was fairly reserved, but it quickly became apparent that keeping it a secret entirely would have ended the relationship as quick as it started.

You gave the young man a small wave and cheery smile as he opened the gate for the two of you. You had only gotten a few steps in before he asked if you'd like him to run the ride twice for you and Kazuya. You immediately said yes and thanked him before hurrying off to find the horse you always chose. Miyuki followed you, not before expressing his thanks and slipping the kid a quick signature.

Miyuki found you sitting happily on a white, gold, and powder blue painted horse, swinging your feet happily as you waited for him to take his spot on the white, armor clad steed besides yours. Not long after the both of you settled down, the ride softly lurched forward and started it's revolution around it's set course. You grasped onto the gold pole securing your horse in place as it eased up and down, making it feel like the horse was even more alive.

You looked out in wonder at the park. The illuminated buildings and stores cut gently through the inky black surroundings; the lights pooled onto the pavement like puddles of milled gold and flickered off of the bundles of balloons still being sold on the sides of shops. You could still smell the toasty, sugary scent of the caramel apples being produced at the confectionary shop you passed every time the ride circled by its street.

You tore your eyes from the fantasy land before you and looked over to the man sitting beside you.

Miyuki continued watching you, his head resting gently against his hand holding onto the golden pole of his steed.

"Happy?"

"Always," you answered. You smoothed your fingers down the cool metal of the ride, "We just need one more thing before our night is perfect."

As if on cue, there was a loud pop! in the distance, followed by a sunburst of colorful light. The both of you looked off in the direction of the firework show before it was hidden by the center of the ride and reappeared when you turned the corner again.

"Perfectly timed, as always," Kazuya mused.

You hummed in wonder as you watched the prism of colors flitter in the sky above the elaborate castle in the distance. Silently, you reached out one of your hands and Kazuya's instantly met it halfway. His hands were warm, rough and dwarfed your own, but he still clasped your's securely as you continued to get lost in the atmosphere and each other's company.

#kayquests #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki kazuya imagine #miyuki kazuya scenarios #daiya no ace #daiya no ace x reader #ace of the diamond x reader #diamond no ace x reader #ace of the diamond #diamond no ace

[nicos-oc-hell]

IDENTITY

Full name: Anatoly Anthony Perphyra

Nicknames: Ana, Tony

Date of birth: March 13th, 1960

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Blood status: half-blood

Ethnicity/Race: hafling, caucasian

Nationality: Scottish

MAGIC & HOGWARTS

House: Gryffindor

Wand: Beech wood with a phoenix feather core, 12 ¾ and paliant flexibility

Quidditch: chaser

Patronus: Dolphin

Prefect: 4-7

COMING OF AGE (15 years old):

Magic channeler: his wand

Animal form: cat/dog thing (art by @giulialibard)

Specialty (fire, ice, illusions, etc): creation

Job: Baker while he’s in New Zealand/a model when he’s back in Scotland

APPEARANCE AND VOICE

Faceclaim: child- Erik Per Sullivan, teen- Justin Berfield, Adult- Colin Farrell

Height: 5’9

Hair color: white (dyed it black)

Hair style:

Eye color: light green

Skin tone: olive

Scars: just some deep scratches from when he tried to pick up a niffler

Distinguishing marks: his hair when he doesn’t dye it

Clothing style:

Voice claim: Colin Farrell

Languages understood: English, Arabic and Greek

Languages spoken: English and Greek

PERSONALITY

Favorites:

Color: royal blue

Food: Shawarma

Weather: windy

Books: Hobbit, The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye, Lord of the Flies

Hobbies: baking, crocheting, making little creations with his magic

Music: Michael Jackson

Dislikes: Severus Snape and pomegranate 

RELATIONSHIP

Father: Viktor Perphyra Sr

Mother: Elizabeth Somerset (@camillejeaneshphm)

Siblings:

Viktor Perphyra Jr

Pietro Perphyra

Pet(s): Jebron and Sinncere’s cats and dogs

S/O: Ashley Lestrange

Children:

Jebron Perphya

Sinncere Perphyra

Friends: Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black, Alvar and Raimund Lestrange, James Potter and Remus Lupin

It’s complicated: Sirius Black

Doormates: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew

FACTS

Has a weird rivalry with Sirius for some reason, they were always competing in everything

Can not stand his brothers or father (automatically makes him a mama’s boy)

Moved to New Zealand solely to spite his father

Opened up a bakery in New Zealand because he was bored being home all day and crocheting random things that came to his mind

People person

Loves blueberries but can’t have them in the house because Jebron is allergic to them

Allergic to owls

Loves to one up the moms in the boys primary school, ex; When the boys got their Hogwarts letters, Anatoly could not stop himself from saying “Well my boys got accepted to a private school in Scotland” (Ashley calls him petty and childish)

He has done every sport imaginable simply because the boys wanted to try that sport

#anatoly perphyra #marauders era #marauders era oc #harry potter marauders #hp oc #oc profile

[stigmvtas]

MYRIA SAENGKAEW — ABRIDGED.

welcome to marina, MYRIA SAENGKAEW ( nonbinary, she/they ) ! they are a THIRTY year old who has lived over on MARINA HEIGHTS for MOST OF HER LIFE and works as a MORTICIAN/TAXIDERMIST. everyone says they look a lot like KITTY CHICHA. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF PREMATURE BIRTH, CHILD NEGLECT, CAR ACCIDENT, DEATH, ALCOHOLISM, TAXIDERMY, AND DEAD ANIMALS.

profile.

full name: myria 'noi' saengkaew.

birthday: july 13th, 1993.

astrology: cancer sun, taurus moon, leo ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: timefighter by lucy dacus.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

premature birth; born prematurely on a day considered extremely unlucky, to a pair of parents who were not only household celebrity names in thailand, but deeply superstitious and spiritual people at that.

child neglect; from there on, myria was considered the unlucky one. the one whose bad luck follows. she's so sure that her parents didn't mean to ignore her in favor for her siblings, but they did, regardless. myria's other two siblings became classic nepo babies, riding off of the success of their parents and finding their own fame - and myria stayed in the background.

every time she tried to branch out like them, it only wound up in mysterious accidents on set. as a child, she overcompensated by picking up hobbies left and right, trying to master them all but always falling short.

eventually myria came to marina one summer, thinking it's a regular vacation at her family's home they've had on the island for generations - but she didn't leave with her family when they did. instead, she was left with a nanny and a bodyguard and an enrollment in the local school.

her family rarely visited, and rarely paid her any mind when she came to them, so eventually myria stopped altogether. when she was 18, she decided to travel the states.

car accident / death; stopped in LA and falls in love with a up-and-coming film director there. they make it to a year before a car accident takes their life and leaves myria all alone again.

came back to marina after that, feeling defeated. took a few years to herself before eventually going to mortuary school & becoming the local mortician. took up a few taxidermy classes as well, but she's still a bit amateur at it.

facts & temperaments.

her family calls her noi, because she was born so tiny, and was considerably frail for the majority of her childhood. the nickname stuck afterwards, but it's more of a demeaning mark than anything.

the most cheerful person you've ever seen. is usually smiling, and talking a mile a minute - laughs everything off, and tries her hardest not to take anything to heart. gives pieces of herself away at a whim if it's going to help someone else.

refuses to badmouth her family, even though they've only hurt her. has a Complex about it.

is usually in a short term relationship, or a situationship, or some kind of fling that doesn't last longer than a few weeks to a few months. is bad with longterm commitment, because it scares her. but she loves love and loves to give it.

attachment issues central! very clingy. and loyal to a fault. only sees the good in people, and leads life through rose-tinted lens.

chronic oversharer. is an open book unless it comes to her deep emotions, which she keeps bottled up on the inside so tightly.

is probably only a few dents away from having a complete meltdown but its okay. has a lot of inner insecurities and doesn't really think positive about herself. thinks she really is just a beacon of bad luck, which is why she's okay to let people go when they pull away. is just. sad on the inside.

alcoholism; partier and is usually always seen out and about. a high functioning alcoholic who hides it very well.

hates being alone and will often wake up in other's beds, or vice versa. has decorated her room at the mansion entirely in glow in the dark stars and glass light-catchers.

lives life in an array of colors. is never wearing black, only clashing patterns and colors. is a maximalist to an extreme.

taxidermy / dead animals; has an etsy shop where she sells taxidermy animals, mostly rodents like rats, and has them dressed up and posed in different 'series'. they're called furever pals / furever friends.

#marina:intro #premature birth tw #child neglect tw #car accident tw #death tw #alcoholism tw #taxidermy tw #dead animal tw #––– ❛ myria saengkaew 【 little blurry stars scattered all across / about. 】

[faintingheroine]

Other than Nihal and Heathcliff, who are your favourite characters?

Hmm, some literary characters I like:

Francie Nolan (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn)

Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye)

(You can see that I adopt sensitive adolescents as Blorbos)

Some Shakespeare:

Desdemona (Othello)

Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing)

Paulina (The Winter’s Tale)

Dolores Haze (Lolita) (I cried a lot reading the ending of that book)

The narrator from Dostoevsky’s Notes from The Underground

Frollo from the abridged version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame that I have read as a child traumatized me for life, but he is a very interesting character

Lilli from Christine Nöstlinger’s Lillis Supercoup is the superior high middle school mean girl character. She was Evil.

Sabrina Grimm from The Sisters Grimm and Elizabeth Allen from The Naughtiest Girl series were among my favorites as a small child.

Sara Crewe from A Little Princess too.

Adnan and Belkıs from the Turkish classic Üç İstanbul.

Seniha from another Turkish classic Kıskanmak

I am sure there are more but these are the ones that came to my mind off the top of my head. A bit heavy in childhood favorites since I used to read more as a child and was impacted more by what I read.

None of them even come CLOSE to Nihal and Heathcliff of course.

#books #asks #kıskanmak

[igot-the-juice]

‘Serenity’ Chapter 3

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

-

Mary stared at the ceiling of the rather minuscule bedroom. She hardly slept that night, restless. Rapidly thinking about what the following day would bring. Or rather what the Child Catcher would bring.

No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, whether it’d be new ideas or just ways to organize the shop, she couldn’t bring herself to stop wandering off to him. Question after question. Wondering.

He said the others at the castle lacked creativity, but that only left room for more questions instead of answers. Was the castle really that bland? Was it that lifeless?

The morning went by at a leisurely pace, and the afternoon even more so. It was as if the world was mocking her. It made her lose her focus. Made her more sluggish. Though it didn’t make her work any less remarkable. She would strive for nothing less than perfection, after all. But it all just so happened to be on possibly one of the busiest days she had in quite some time.

She began to question if there was a special occasion she and her parents were missing out on, or a festival perhaps? A birthday? The possibilities were endless in such a village. But just being a busy day would have to suffice for the time being.

She quickly patched up a pair of lederhosen with some difficulty, which she would never openly admit. The leather was tough to sew especially without the proper equipment. It was already irritating to work with even if she had all of the correct tools. But to compensate for the extra work and material, she charged more than she would for a simple fix. Which the men always had their own opinions on.

After trading with the man she slid her sketchbook in front of her on the stand, readying her pencil over the faded paper. Maybe coming up with some ideas for him beforehand would put her mind at ease? Unless he already had a specific one in mind, then her sketching would be pointless. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.

A candy man, he said? She doubted he would be willing to change his entire fit, rather than something to just throw over. A gentle smile graced her lips, the thought of him wearing such a flamboyant suit amusing her.

At last the pencil began to move across the paper, scurrying and scratching as ideas began to flood. Almost too many to keep up with. It didn’t take long for the first design to be completed with customers stopping by for a quick fix every other minute. She labeled what colors went where and what the fabric would be for each piece. All in great detail.

She repeated the same process for a few others, and thankfully it helped the day go by quicker. The sky was a deep gradient of orange and purple by the time Mary closed up the shop. She closed the double doors, turning to tidy the rest of the room in preparation for the day after. The old wood creaked beneath her feet to fill the airy silence, and it was peaceful. A breath of fresh air after the tiring day.

Once finished she trudged up the stairs to see the dining room empty which was a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. The stove was cold, pots and pans left the way it was that morning. Her father’s cup wasn’t even on the table or in the sink. That was what made her stomach churn.

A cough sounded from her parents’ bedroom through the closed door, growing more violent the longer it continued. The sound of it struck a fear in her that left her paralyzed. She listened. Waited. A minute later it came to a stop.

And the silence that followed frightened her.

Her breathing soft, she strained her ears to listen for even the smallest sound. Anything to ease her frantic mind. Then she heard her mother’s muffled voice.

Mary let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and at last began to prepare everything for dinner. She washed the vegetables and set out the cutting board and knives, chopping them up when she heard a door open. Feet shuffled across the floor, a pair landing beside her.

Her mother placed a larger pot inside the sink and turned it on, moving to light the stove.

“Ma,” Mary whispered softly when she heard a sniff, her own eyes glazing over. “Please stop.”

“Liebling.” Her mother’s voice held a mixed tone. Stern, yet trembled. Mary let it be, a tear escaping down her cheek.

Once they ate and the dishes were washed the older woman waved Mary over into her bedroom, her father still sitting at the table. She sat on the edge, Mary sitting almost directly behind her with a brush. She began to carefully remove the bun from her mother’s hair and combed her fingers through it in an attempt to undo any knots or tangled hairs.

“What did he want?” She asked Mary when she began to brush. She halted her movements for a second before continuing, caught off guard by the blunt question. “And don’t lie to me.” Her daughter hesitated, then huffed.

“You must swear not to tell a single soul.” Her mother let out a heartfelt chuckle.

“Who would I tell, dear?” After a minute or so of brushing she answered.

“He wants me to make an outfit for one of his characters.” A short moment passed and Mary honestly couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. She didn’t still, didn’t sigh, didn’t gasp. Mary even convinced herself that she didn’t hear her, that is until her mother spoke.

“Will you?” Mary sighed.

“I will. I had a feeling it wouldn’t end well no matter the decision. It was either decline and insult the Baron’s henchman, or accept and face the wrath of the people when they find out.”

“When they find out?”

“It’s only a matter of time.” Mary stood up once finished and put away the brush. “Those intrusive bastards.” She mumbled to herself and her mother just smiled.

“Well, what does he want? Do you know?” Her questions surprised Mary, taking everything better than she thought she would. Just two days ago she was scared to death of him when he first entered the shop and now there they were having a casual conversation about what his next lure would be as if it were common gossip.

“All he said was a candy man. I sketched out a few ideas I had today. Whatever it turns out to be, I just hope he likes it.”

“Only a fool would find your work distasteful. But it is interesting how he is giving you so much free reign for something so seemingly important to him.”

Mary felt guilty for not telling her the whole truth. She trusted her mother more than anything. Not because of familial relation, but because of how much they had been through together. What they still went through together. She meant well, and it wasn’t as if she was lying. She just didn’t want her to worry more than she already did.

By the time her parents finished getting ready for bed and settled down Mary was downstairs collecting all she needed. She put her sketchbook and pencil in a simple tattered shoulder bag along with her favorite measuring tape. She then checked upstairs to make sure her parents had finally fallen asleep before heading to the front of the shop.

She peaked out the window of one of the doors, making sure no one was still wandering the plaza. When the coast was clear she carefully left the shop, turning the knob as she closed it to prevent any unnecessary noise.

Her hands nervously twisted the strap of the satchel as she turned to face the wide open space. She rarely ever ventured out in the dark, let alone to meet with someone. She supposed she was a bit of a hypocrite since she considered herself to be a reclusive person herself. Now, she wasn’t heavily introverted, but enough to call herself one.

Mary took a few steps into the plaza, looking around for any sign of the man. Would he be hiding? Or was he confident enough to just wander in? Perhaps she was too early? She chewed on her lip with blooming panic as the questions began to swirl, but was put at ease when she saw him step out from a nearby street.

Never would she have thought she would be relieved to see the Child Catcher, but alas she sighed at the sight of him. The relief gradually diminished, however, with every step she took closer to him.

Being in his presence would strike fear into even the toughest man in the village. To say he had a reputation would be an understatement. To the others in the village he was a sadist, taking great pleasure in capturing the children and watching them cry and suffer. Same with the adults he had executed for having them in the first place. Mary, on the other hand, didn’t know what to think of the man. As far as she was concerned, he was just doing his job. Maybe he had a bit of too much fun doing it, but it was a job nonetheless.

When she reached him he leaned his head in the direction he came, turning to walk back down the street with Mary in tow. When she turned the corner she saw a horse standing in the middle of it, patiently waiting. She felt intimidated as she stood beside it, being short enough as it was. She turned to the catcher who held a hand out, offering his help.

“Where are we going?” Mary asked warily.

“The bridge.” His bluntness surprisingly made her trust the man more, made him seem like he had nothing to hide which was ironic given the situation.

After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand and collected her skirt with the other, placing her foot in the stirrup to push herself up onto the horse. She gasped when she felt him lift her up with a startling amount of strength, yet was still careful in his movements. It was rather deceiving compared to his more scrawny appearance.

As he hopped on behind her she began to welcome the height difference, it even put the hint of a smile on her face. His arms reaching around her to grab the reins soon brought her back to the reality of the situation. After he kicked and the horse began to move she quickly gripped onto the saddle in front of her, never having ridden a horse before as it took on a graceful walk, and once she grew used to it her smile returned.

“Enjoying yourself?” The man behind her piped up in subtle amusement.

“Very much.” Was her simple response. She looked up to the sky, the stars beaming down brightly. Not a single cloud was in sight. “Imagine the view from the castle.” Mary mumbled, losing herself in the many new sensations the night already brought her.

“It’s better than the one down here, no doubt.”

“Well, do you ever look at them?” She questioned, her eyes never leaving the sky. She couldn’t understand why, but she felt more comfortable talking to him as they were. It was refreshing for her to talk to someone new. Someone who was willing to listen, or rather seemed like they were willing. Whether he was doing it out of politeness or because he was her customer, she couldn’t tell. But she appreciated it either way.

“I see no reason to.”

The rest of the ride was silent, yet peaceful. And Mary hated to admit it, but it made her sleepy. She wasn’t used to staying up later at night. Perhaps that was why she always woke up so early. Or was it the other way around?

When they reached the arch of the stone bridge he jumped off, then once again helped Mary. She had been far less graceful and nearly face planted the gravel were it not for the catcher…well, catching her. He tied the horse to a nearby post and turned to Mary expectedly, only to see her already taking a seat beneath the bridge. He followed suit and sat next to her, keeping a good distance so as to not make her feel uncomfortable, which she made a mental note of.

“If you don’t mind,” she began as she pulled out her book and pencil. “I already had a few ideas sketched out during the day if you wanted to take a look at them?” She looked over at him, shrinking with beady eyes at his unreadable expression. “Unless you already had one in mind?” She quickly added. He glanced down at her sketchbook.

“Let’s see yours first.” With a closed smile, she opened it and flipped to find the page.

“Given your line of work, I thought maybe a larger cloak of some sort. It would be a simple change and I think it would flow more gracefully if it has the right flare.” She finally landed on her first drawing. “Since you said ‘candy man’, I thought it would be best to stick to more intense colors, or bright. I was thinking purple for the base color and tried adding in other designs, but the color just didn’t really stick out to me.” Mary flipped to the next page and he watched her enthusiasm begin to show.

As she continued to explain her ideas, the catcher watched on in bewilderment. He knew she had to be at least somewhat skilled to create what she had in the shop, but her range of thought and creativity was far beyond what he had originally thought. Not only was she good at sewing, but he noticed how she tailored to the customer as well.

For the first time in years he was stunned. He greatly underestimated her, and so did the rest of Vulgaria. It was a shame no one took advantage of her work and how much she enjoyed doing it. He could tell she held so much passion, so much love for what she did and yet no one seemed to notice or appreciate it.

It reminded him of himself.

“This one is my personal favorite.” He perked at her words, eager to see why it was indeed her favorite. He leaned closer and carefully looked over the detailed design. It was consistent with her previous cloak designs, however it was the largest of the bunch. Enough to cover the majority of his suit.

The base was a vibrant yellow, orange and white trimming and geometric designs tactically placed to make it stand out more. Flowers of blues and yellows lined the coat along the edges and sleeves, rich green leaves sprouting from them. But it was a patch of red with black zig-zags along the upper back that struck his fancy the most. It seemed out of place compared to the rest, yet somehow she made it work. It wouldn’t be the same without it.

“That one.” The catcher drawled out. Mary snapped her head over to him, mouth agape.

“But, I haven’t -“ She stopped herself when his eyes flicked over to meet her in an intense gaze. She quickly looked away and stuttered. “Of course. This one it is.” She then turned and started digging through her bag to pull out her tape measure and stood up.

Her eyes followed him as he did the same, just over a head taller than her. Her eyes glanced between his own, fiddling with the tape in her hands absentmindedly. Then she suddenly realized why she had it in the first place.

“Right.” She chirped quickly and began to take his measurements, starting with his arms and jotting down the numbers along the way. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name exactly? I find it rude not to know the names of my customers.” Mary asked softly to break the awkward silence, mostly out of her own curiosity. Her hands lightly shook out of nerves.

“Reuben.” He caught the faintest smile reaching her lips.

“Reuben…?”

“Reuben Herrmann.” It took everything in him not to cringe at the name. It had been quite a while since he heard or even said it after being called The Child Catcher for so many years. Very few people knew his real name, and he preferred to keep it that way. The only reason he even told Mary in the first place was because he was aware of how little she spoke to other villagers, if at all. He had a feeling she wouldn’t even tell her own mother without his expressed permission.

Mary reached around his front to measure his torso and it wasn’t until then that he realized how close they were. He could tell she was trying to avoid it from happening, but given she was taking measurements it was only a matter of time. And now it was his turn to feel flustered, mainly from hearing her repeat his own name back to him.

“I think it fits you.” Mary hummed, then she began to giggle and decided to try and break through his closed-off demeanor. “You know, the people gossip about what they think your name is?”

“They do?” She nodded and continued with her giggle fit. “And what have they said?”

“Well, nothing even remotely close to Reuben. Your name is that of a saint compared to what they’ve come up with. But I think my favorite is Archie.” Mary’s giggling turned into laughter when the catcher’s face twisted into disgust.

“Archie? Well, I’d say we’re blessed that they can’t have children.” By the time her laughter died down she was finished and put away the tape measure, hooking the bag over her shoulder.

“Well lucky for you, Mister Herrmann, you won’t be catching any Archies.” The two of them made their way back over to the horse, untying and mounting it once more to begin their journey back to the village.

Mary let out a gentle yawn, covering it as best she could. The sound of the horse’s hooves tapping against the ground, the movement of it alone practically rocking her to sleep. She struggled to keep her eyes open as the crickets seemed to grow more faint, everything around her meddling together. Subconsciously she leaned back against Reuben, her head rested off to the side on one of his shoulders. But by the time she realized she was falling asleep it was too late.

#chitty chitty bang bang #the child catcher #child catcher #child catcher x oc #x oc #oc #robert helpmann #fanfiction #fanfic #mature

[vidantlesombre]

nightmare

the floorboards creak beneath me when I move, so I jump and imagine I can make the walls shatter. This is childish, since second floor ceilings are not puddles, and I get vertigo when I cross a bridge.

There is a bridge which crosses a highway that is on my walk home. I have to concentrate on not thinking when I go over it, and I was surprised when my sibling, visiting for a few days. 

‘Really? You’re scared?’

When we were kids people always thought Max was the most scared of the two. Because Max was the one with nightmares, they’d wake up shaking and crying sometimes every night. Sometimes, because we shared a room, it would wake me up, too. But there was nothing to do or say. They couldn’t hear me anyway, and the only thing that soothed them was when my mother or father came and cradled them back to sleep. 

There was something about them being bigger than us, being adults in a world where we were always confined to the children’s side, a protected area that promised innocence and smiles. There’s so much people will forgive you for, when you’re under ten.

When we stayed with Grandma, Max liked me in the room, too, because sometimes they’d get scared. It’s difficult to wake up from a nightmare and not have someone there.

I have wondered since then if they were my dream catcher. I never had nightmares, not until we separated, when I was around eleven. That was the first nightmare I ever remember. 

Then again, when I was eighteen. I had vivid dreams which woke me in the middle of the night. Outside the air was so hot you could barely breathe it in, and inside you shivered from the air conditionning, which I often turned off. I remember my skin shining in blue moonlight as I remembered dreams. 

I had three dreams worth mentionning. Max always had the same nightmare, something I imagined a play land with huge blocks, and I think they were trying to look for us all, Mum and me, and we died. 

My three dreams felt stranger than that. There was one where a man cheated on his wife, and she saw him at the end of the road kissing her goodbye. But the wife had given her all to this man, had worshipped him enough to give up her independence and her own right mind. They lived in a three storey house, her husband, her child and him. And so on the festival day, when the grey slabbed square was full of people and the fog curled in with smoke, she took the gun from a secret cabinet and went out and shot into the crowd. She shot down her little girl, was around three years old, running around in a red coat. In the dream, I was the little girl. But I was also the mistress, and the wife.

I had another dream where I ran around Paris and was followed by a slightly gaunt, overly loving boyfriend. The boyfriend looked like a Tim Burton character, all gaunt and black and white. We went to a party, and realised we hadn’t dressed up appropriately, everyone else was in a Hello Kitty costume, so we were leant two costumes and slipped them on and went in. Then we left and he chased me, and i laughed in his face while he tried to hug me.

I can’t really remember the last dream, but I know it was a nightmare.

[monstermaster13]

Corey and Oats in… ‘Hope is Not Microbial’ a Creepypasta parody adventure.

NOTE: This story is one I have done to make fun of people who think stuff like transformation and stories featuring real people are creepy and in particular anyone who has made fun of my Dan Aykroyd stories, if you are of an overly sensitive disposition or are overzealous of the famous people in question you should leave the room.

Everyone knows the Corey and Oats adventures but did you know there was a lost episode of it? Well now you do, and our favorite duo were at Nile Road looking at scary stories when they came across as a ‘lost tv special’ on the Lost Media wiki and they heard it was banned for being graphic and terrifying so they sought out a copy of it, they tried Youtube but could only find bits of it and it was the censored version, so they tried numerous other sites.

“I wonder why this special was banned.”

“Maybe we’ll find out.”

Corey was checking the emails when he got an email from someone who claimed that they had an actual copy of the lost tv special on file. ‘Is this a joke?’ the microbe asked. ‘No joke, I have a genuine copy of this special just for you and Oats to see.’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Just click on the link here.’

Thinking this was a spam message he didn’t want to click on it but he did, and he was worried…he played the video file, the video file read ‘Lost TV special, for your eyes only.’, he clicked on it and watched the special.

The special seemed to be some kind of meta story about a fan of Dan Aykroyd writing a story about someone turning into Dan only to be berated by someone who was accusing him of fetishizing a real person and his ‘dead best friend’. ‘Well that person is absolutely detestable.’ Corey said to himself.

As the special went on…the person berating the fanfiction writer became more and more deranged, attempting to villify the creator only to be humiliated badly. The author minded his own business, but he was starting to look different somehow. ‘Is it me or is the video acting up?’

Oats also watched as the author pulled at parts of his face and pulled it off as if he was Maty from Poultergeist, revealing the author was Dan Aykroyd. Aykroyd looked a bit different than usual, he had black eye-makeup around his eyes and glowing eyes, he looked like he was face-painted as some kind of undead character.

The person who berated the author was then seen with the Child-catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Spamton, the man from Suicide Shop and Martin Short. The weird thing was that all of Short’s characters were there too. Loud screams were heard as the Killer Klowns from Killer Klowns from Outer Space burst through the wall.

The Childcatcher screamed in a way that sounded realistic as he saw Mishima Tuvache being sliced in half, and it really sounded like the Childcatcher’s actor the late Robert Helpman was really being tortured. Jack Frost from the Santa Clause 3: The Escape Claus tried to stop the clowns as did the other Martin Short characters only for them to be turned into cotton candy cocoons.

Jack screamed as he was looking around, his friends had been all cocooned up and he felt himself being drained of his energy as Shorty and Jumbo slurped up his cold blood with bendy straws. Mishima attempted to make a run for it only to get sliced into pieces by Dan…’The French really do like to CUT to the chase.’ He quipped. He looked over at Ed Grimley…’I must say this is completely mental.’ ‘And I must say shut up.’ He snapped.

Dan charged towards Ed and used some dark powers to send him flying towards a wall of spikes, which impaled him in the chest and caused his guts to spill right out of it, he picked up Ed’s intestines and wore them. He then looked at the Spamton and infected him with a virus that made him develop warts all over his body and caused him to explode, the Childcatcher was the only character left.

“Looks like the catcher is about to be caught.”

The Child-catcher panicked, screaming as he did so, he attempted to run and hide in several of the rooms only to run into multiple versions of Dan. ‘You’ve got nowhere to run, now.’ Dan went over to him and filled him up, fattening him up with dangerous candy. ‘Now don’t these sweets taste so good?’ ‘Oh yes, I mean no…stop it, stop it, please.’ ‘Taste the sweet taste of death, creep.’ With highly explosive candy that made him swell up and burst into a million pieces…’Noooo!’

“Oh, parting is such sweet sorrow.”

‘Dan, you killed my dream husbando. You monster….you sick freak, no normal human would act like this.’ ‘You ain’t normal either.’ Dan sneered as he grabbed the overzealous fan who berated him earlier and began to use dark magic to torture him, contorting his slender looking body into that of a grotesque demon with a massive stomach with a monstrous maw with sharp teeth on it.

“Dan, this isn’t fair…you’re supposed to totally love me.”

‘You don’t care for me, you only want to keep me away from everyone, you view me as a possession, you think you can control me, but you are wrong.’ ‘No i’m not, and you can go screw yourself.’ ‘But I am right and you will never be,, you will forever be stuck in your nightmare. You act like you love me but you only view me as your possession, your toy, your object, you can be a fan as much as you want but you cannot control me or own me, I will never love you.’

The person broke down in tears as he begged for forgiveness…’Look, I didn’t mean it, i’ll do anything to make this stop.’ ‘Too late for you now..tell John I said hi.’

Dan pulled him closer and used his dark powers on him even more, taking over his body and manipulating him like he was a human ventriloquist dummy. ‘Everyone, I want you to meet my new dummy.’ ‘I am not your dummy.’ ‘You ARE now.’

The man panicked and attempted to stop Dan only for Dan to silence him before ripping out his spine Mortal Kombat style…’You know what I always say, don’t diss other people’s kinks if you don’t have the spine for it.’ He pulled out what appeared to be a de-skinning machine and he tossed the man onto it, which caused the man’s skin to peel off in a graphic manner as blood dripped all over the floor. ‘You get what you deserve, kid. Simp over Marty and NOT me will you? Well then you don’t deserve anything.’

Martin Short was the only one left, he looked over at Dan and begged…’Dan, please don’t do this, I know the Dan Aykroyd I know wouldn’t do this, please don’t do this.’ ‘Sorry Marty, but I have to, i’m sure Steve can find someone else.’ ‘Nooo, Steve needs me.’ Dan crept over to Martin before teleporting next to him and leaping over him with inhuman agility.

With a desperate plea, Martin begged Dan not to do it but Dan was not far behind as his fingernails sharpened and he used them to rip open Martin’s shirt and he pulled out his heart and showed it to him, Martin collapsed on the floor as he died of a heart attack. ‘Tell John Candy and John Belushi I said hi.’ Dan then turned to the camera. ‘What have you just seen is a PSA on what happens when you get what isn’t real replaced with what is real. Fiction: In the stories of celebrity tf fandom someone turns into a celebrity and nobody questions it, fans act like they can control the characters. Fact: These aren’t real, these are made up, nobody ever has tried this in real life. In real life, what is written in fanfiction is fiction, so please don’t complain if an artist you like gets fetishized in stories. If you do, I will give you a personal visit you won’t forget.’

The special ended and Corey and Oats looked at the end credits..’Okay, that special was beyond messed up, what do you think?’ Oats looked over at Corey, Corey had piercing blood red eyes and his mouth was full of sharp teeth. ‘Corey?’ ‘Corey isn’t here anymore.’ The covid microbe snarled in a demonic voice.

Oats whinnied in terror as his own best friend began to chase him around the house, he looked over at Zara’s microbes and asked them for help. They warned Andrea and Neive while Oats warned the other microbes about what was going on.

Corey roared ferociously as he lurched closer and closer to his equine friend…’No Corey, don’t do this, I am your friend.’ It was then Corey snapped out of it, crying as he thought about all the good times he had been having with his equine bestie. ‘I am super sorry. I don’t know what got into me.’

“Yeah…this is creepypasta-esque.”

“Yeah, only less cliched than your typical creepypasta.”

He sobbed and as he did, Oats cradled him in his arms..’Shhh, it’s okay…that lost episode must have possessed you somehow.’ He nodded as the duo investigated the room, Corey went over to the computer and tried to delete the video file but the cursor was stuck and on the screen a video of him and Oats being trapped in the very PSA Dan was doing was playing, only with Dan controlling Corey’s body and making him go after his equine friend. ‘Is this what the episode is doing to you, pal?’ Oats asked. ‘Yes, I think so.’

Just then Mel came into the room to try and help them, as she could hear Dan’s voice…as if Dan Aykroyd himself was somehow in the house with them despite not being there and the duo looked over, they couldn’t see him but they could hear him. Corey felt afraid and as he did he let loose a piercing scream.. That is when Mel got a message on the computer saying…’Look to your left.’

Mel looked to the left and that is where she saw Dan Aykroyd himself…’Dan! You had us scared half to death, and look what you did to Corey.’ ‘I am sorry, I just wanted to help you guys find the lost tv special I was in and now I realize that what I have done wasn’t right, there is a reason that special in its original form shouldn’t have seen the light of day. If I knew that it was evil I wouldn’t have done this.’ ‘It’s alright, it’s alright.’

Dan apologized and hugged the koala-girl and her friends as they looked around, ‘We need to perform a ritual to dispose of the lost special once and for all.’ ‘Yes, we should.’ The group all gathered together at the table in the lounge for an exorcism as Oats brought the computer in and opened the file up.

Mel and Dan both chanted the exorcism incantation together along with Oats and Corey and the power of the combined exorcism chants caused the lost tv special to be exorcized from the computer for good, as black ooze dripped out of it as a demon burned into flames and then faded away. ‘Yep, i’ve still got it.’ Dan quipped as he saw the lost file vanish from the computer’s database. ‘Thank you so much Dan for helping. And thank you for apologizing for scaring Corey and Oats like that.’ ‘No problem.’

The dark aura that had been cast over the house due to the lost tv special’s supernatural influence vanished, returning everything to normal. ‘That was a close one.’ ‘Yeah it was.’ ‘You sure did an amazing job with this one.’ ‘Coming from you, Dan…that means a lot.’

Dan smiled at her before turning to face the duo, the duo hugged him before saying goodbye to him. He took on a spectral form and then disappeared, before telling the duo should they ever need him they can summon him, and they waved goodbye to him. ‘Well that certainly was a nightmarish adventure.’ ‘Yeah, i’ve learned never to ask for lost tv specials like that one ever again, they are cursed for a reason.’

“Come on, let’s relax and play and have a snack.”

“Good idea.”

The duo relaxed and played some games before having afternoon tea, and an hour later they had dinner, after dinner they sent an email to Jill about their adventure, they played some more games afterwards.

They had a bit of a karaoke party and after their party wrapped up they went into the bedroom and got ready for bed, Oats put on his fairy princess night-dress and matching socks while Corey put on his bat onesie and they brushed their teeth in the bathroom. They organized who would get the honor of sleeping with them that night.

Corey and Oats snuggled up with Mel and got into bed, listening to classical music and having sweet dreams and they didn’t have to worry about getting nightmares because their own nightmare was over. But the adventures certainly aren’t over.

[glenrocklibraryteens]

Book Review: The Catcher and The Rye

Book Review: The Catcher in The Rye

The Catcher in The Rye by J.D. Salinger Young Adult Fiction, Coming-Of-Age Page Count: 234 Rating: 3 - I didn’t enjoy the book’s main character or plot too much; however, I found enjoyment in the novel’s smaller details. Reviewer: Rebecca Torres

We follow the story of our narrator and protagonist, Holden Caulfield. Kicked out of two private schools— and he now can say three— he is an interesting and complex character. Running away from his problems is a constant for him. Running away from school, running away from the past, running away from his parents, is what he narrates to the reader. Two days— we spent with Holden. And he is running away. 

If you like books that feel like a conversation, The Catcher in The Rye is most definitely for you. Holden Caulfield narrates as if he’s having a literal conversation with his reader—telling you through his ups-and-downs. My thoughts on this book, however, are much different. I didn’t like it all too much. The main thing I disliked about this novel was its pacing. In most of the chapters, Holden Caulfield’s criticism and claims were just elongated filler. Very few of his narrated claims came back as actual plot points, and I see that as lazy writing. I find Holden Caulfield an interesting character though. I enjoy what he brings to the table: his unpredictability, his snarky personality, and his comfort in the past. The past especially— it’s a subtle detail, but it’s clear Holden has experienced tragedy of some sort. This protagonist lost his innocence, and ran away in hopes of somehow getting it back. He’s at a dead end, and that’s something I feel many of us experience at some point: that dead end. And though cryptic, this character narrates that feeling very well. Though I cannot directly say much about it, my favorite aspect of this book is the symbols used. Associated with innocence and maturity, Holden’s experiences through two days are further complexed. A big theme in this story is the use of the word “phony”. Holden mentally notices when people act fake, or just plain annoying. Yet, he is doing the exact same. This character does everything he can, so he is portrayed as mature. This 16-year old curses his head off, and drinks at any bar nearby. Maturity— he thinks that’s what that is. Innocence— what he longs for. Contradicting himself, he shows he doesn’t know what he fully wants. And so he continues to run from everything. His falling apart is what I feel redeems this story. Though J.D. Salinger could’ve gone to many different levels with his novel’s overall plot, the characters’ writing is well-written. Once again, I recommend this book for anyone who enjoys books that talk to you like a conversation, or one that deals with the human mind.

“The Catcher in the Rye” Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4S5VE8KVFCkZk3khNKXgL2?si=rP5qnXd3Q8WRpttEjohvMA

“Child Psychology” by Black Box Recorder: This song is the very essence of our protagonist. The songs’ lyrics keep mentioning the idea of suicide, something Holden Caulfield thought much about. The song also describes someone getting expelled from school, just as he was. The song also has mention of it being around Christmas time, much of how it is in the story.

“Little Shirley Beans” by Nine Stories: This song is in direct relation to the book; it’s mentioned that Phoebe(Holden’s sister) likes this artist. The lyrics also contain a word Holden Caulfield uses a lot: phony.

“Back to the Old House” by The Smiths: This song could easily resonate with our protagonist, due to the fact it’s geared toward loss. Holden experienced a tragedy at some point in his life, and this song exaggerates Holden’s never getting over it.

“Obstacles” by Syd Matters: These lyrics describe Holden’s dream life. He wishes to have that child-like innocence once again. I also like to think this is the way he hopes Phoebe is living.

#book review #teen book review #fiction #classic #glen rock teens #glen rock nj #blog post #submission

[satrngrl]

The sun shines in our apartment relentlessly,

Little diamonds splash across the walls like a mosaic from the sun catcher in the corner.

I remember being a child in my parents bedroom on a sunny afternoon, the dust caught the sunlight like little fairies sprinkling glitter from the backside of the blinds.

I sit in this moment and let it wash over me -

Patience. Sticky notes that say I love you that are starting to fade.

A half-eaten bowl of soup that’s been sitting in the sink for 3 days collecting water.

I am the air around me in this moment.

Fresh, inviting, a diorama of same-ness.

I need to buy groceries,

I need to stop thinking about how when you kissed my forehead before work it wasn’t as soft as most mornings.

I don’t know where this came from,

This fear of being alone.

This reel inside my mind’s eye that won’t stop playing,

Of you leaving, and me being alone to pick up the pieces.

There are so many. I’ve shattered myself a thousand times and put myself back together haphazardly.

It comes across as careless,

My touch translates as something unsettling and stark.

You’ve noticed a blankness in my stare,

How self preservation cloaks me like a thin veil,

It sets any rational thought ablaze and replaces it with dullness. I don’t know how I keep forgetting that life is only enjoyable when you’re truly present for the ride. I’ve slept through so many road trips and arrived somewhere alien to me.

I’ve taken all the soft parts of you and tumbled them over and over like some kind of sick reverse weathering on a rock.

I see the way you question yourself

Because I hurt so much that I can’t open up the deepest parts of myself -

That you wonder what I’m thinking.

That you wonder why I’m even fighting at all.

Somewhere deep inside of me is a heart that loves this world, that wants it to forgive me despite my insistence that I’m fine.

Somewhere deep inside of me is a tiny ballerina figurine that springs up on her own.

I just need to open that box

02/18/2023

#writing #words #poem #poetry

[aestheticvoyage2022]

Day 353: Monday December 19, 2022 - “Mindful Minutes”

The dream catcher hangs over William’s bed, sparkling in the nursery stars, set to red and green for Christmas, as I lay looking up at it wondering where it came from.    This moment for curiosity made possible by the opportunity to just lay passively on the floor as Audrie handled bedtime routine, enjoying the moment and being present in the calm and peace of this special space.  She explained how in November, while I was gone, they picked it up somewhere in New Mexico on a roadtrip back from Dallas.  I appreciated that the web was in the shape of a good tree.  It was a good dreamcatcher.  

I could’ve been anywhere in this moment.  It was late, I was tired, it had been a long day of work.  After a successful three day trip, I would have been understandably excused to take a break.  But the break I wanted was right here. To just lay quietly and be a part of the moment.  As the moon and stars circled up above, I worked on 5-8 breathing.  I took advantage of the opportunity to practice some mindfulness, to be present in and enjoy this moment, as Audrie rocked and sang “Forever Young” (she was Soprano in the choir).  I watched my thoughts pass -  thinking about the dreams that great dreamcatcher has caught in the past month....how it was likely filled with noodles and raspberry.  How maybe the dream catcher would inspire him to dream.  How he had left the birth hospital into the world in a tiny shirt that said “Dream Big Little One” - centered again with my breathing.....   what a perfect moment that was, and this is and my thoughts began to pass again - about the stories we tell ourselves and how important they are.  To not only live a great story, but to be telling your self of a good story.   Wondering what William’s story would be.  If he would remember this room they way we do. - warm, peaceful, intentional.  I thought about needing to update the picture mixtiles around the room for some of the favorites from the year.  And then I centered my self again in the breathing.  In for 5, out for 8.  Audrie singing Powder Blue now.   Centered.   The thoughts passing again like clouds up in those stars - thinking about how nice it must be for William to have both his parents here to help with bedtime.  As if he could hear my thought he rolls out, hand extended, “dada” as if to point to me.  Thinking how far Id come in the past month, how grateful I am to have these moments, to not be missing this, and how many moments I missed before.  How ‘before’ seems like a different life ago, like I had evolved, chapter turned.  I should go get him, and finish this bedtime so Audrie could go get other things in her life done, in her limited time at home.  Would that work?  Im sure it will.  Centered again one more time. Breathing 5 seconds in, 8 seconds out.  Present in the moment.   Mindfulness.  Getting my moments back.  Grounded.  Clear.  I could have been anywhere.  I chose to be here.  Gift my self peace and quiet, and the opportunity to know it.

We seamlessly hand him over from Mama to Dada and he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t fuss.  Now we share the moment together.  I bop him down quietly as we say goodnight to the moon rock and the stars, and to William.  I pat his back three distinct times, in a rhythmic pattern repeating “I Love You” - we can’t see the dreamcatcher anymore, in the dark, but I like knowing its up there, collecting my dream for him to grow up a kind and mindful man with easier lessons to learn than his ole Daddy.

 Song: John Michael Montgomery - Life’s A Dance

Quote: “People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” ― Thich Nhat Hanh

[magdatf13]

Giving you a little bit of Context

Hiiiii, 

Today I’am going to give you my opinion and a summary about the book, So guys as you know I'm reading the book “The Catcher in the Rye”, which is from the author J.D Salinger with the genre of realistic fiction. This book has a lot of things to take in consideration!!!! I'am telling you, i am not lying.

This novel is about a 16 year old boy named Holden Caulfield, who has been expelled from 4 different schools. Pretty bad this guy!!!!!!! In Pencey Prep he has failed 4 of 5 subjects, what a terrible thing!!! After that, we meet two “friends” of Holden, Ackley, a very dirty man and Stradlater, his roommate, he was going to meet Jane, an old friend of Holden. After a time he asks Stradlater about the date with her, but he didn’t answer so they start to fight for a woman, very typical. Holden decides to leave Pencey. He reaches New York and lodges in a hotel, he remembers Jane and how he met her for the first time. He takes a taxi to Ernie’s tavern, during the trip he asks the cab about where ducks go during winter, here we can see how afraid he was of changing. In Ernie’s, he meets Lillia Simons, an ex-girlfriend of his brother DB. The brother was working in Hollywood, but he felt weird and returned to the hotel. Maurice the assistant of the elevator, offers Holden for a prostitute for only 5 dollars!!!! He was anxious about having s*x, then the prostitute cames but nothing happens, they only talk. Holden wasn’t prepared for this, he needs to mature first and grow mentally. The prostitute argue about the 5 dollars, instead they were 10!!!! He calls Sally, a friend of his, for them to meet. He takes a cab to Central Park in search of Phoebe, but he encounters a Phoebe’s friend in the park that tells Holden about where to encounter his sister, the museum. Here Holden compares the museum not changing but the people that go to it yes, mentioning his afrainess of the changes of life. He meets Sally, but all goes very wrong. Then he meets Carl Luce, a student of a past school, he leaves irritated because of the childness of Holden. He sneaks his own apartment, waking up with Phoebe, he tells the truth about school, he was expelled, he hates everything except for one thing, saving the kids from adulthood or in other words, The Catcher in the Rye. Holden goes for “living” to the house of Mr. Antolini a very drunk guy, during the night he felt the hand of the teacher, making Holden thinks about the teacher being an absolute pervert and leaves that night, leading to sleeping in a bench.After that day we writes a note to Phoebe for them to encounter during lunch time in the museum. Holden tells about the plan of leaving but Phoebe makes him regret his decision. The story ends in the mental facility with Holden there. THE END.

 As i made you a little summary now let me tell you what is good from the book. So here in this book you can find a lot of things, when i tell you a lot is A LOT. What I most like is the stream of consciousness he uses since it is really interesting to know what is exactly going on throughout the mind of the character. For example when in the beginning of chapter two he says “The minute I went in, I was sort of sorry I’d come. He was reading the Atlantic Monthly, and there were pills and medicine all over the place, and everything smelled like Vicks Nose Drops”. With the example mentioned we can see the thoughts of him which are really impressive. 

 But no, let's talk about the weakness of this book. What I really didn’t like was the time he spent talking, since the book was only two days, but while reading it seems like you have been reading like a month of his life. Which made it kind of boring since the transitions were really slow and long to change. 

Well, I have told you a lot about this book, JAJAJAJA, but having opinions is pretty important before reading a book. I think that this book is really good, but not for all types of people, since not all readers like books with a stream of consciousness. I’m going to give you an example, in chapter 20 “I kept sitting there getting drunk and waiting for old Tina and Janine to come out and do their stuff, but they weren’t there. A flitty-looking guy with wavy hair came out and played the piano, and then this new babe, Valencia came out and sang”.  With this I can tell you that he talks about three different things at once since streams of consciousness are all of the thoughts that come to his mind. So I would not recommend this book. 

Pretty hard, I toold you

This need ALLLLLLLLLL of your neurons

Hope You find a better book, guy but is my opinion, hope you like it. 

SEE YOU IN A FEW DAYS