#runaway and circus boy

[pekejscatbed]

Happy Birthday, Runaway | Jason Todd centric

Info/Warnings:

Translations:

Dios mío - oh my god, Padre Nuestro - the lord's prayer, Ave Maria - holy Mary, Gloria - glory be

set in the Runaway and Circus Boy universe

batman masterlist

------

The Gotham Clock Tower chimes from above as Robin ties up a wannabe purse snatcher, signifying a new day: August 16th.

"Good work, Robin." Batman doesn't sound impressed, and it probably has to do with Robin running off on his own, again, despite the many lectures The Batman has given him about not doing that exact thing.

Robin just grins at him, "Thanks, B-man."

And as the two crime fighters grapple away to finish patrolling the city, Robin swears he hears Batman wish him a happy birthday over the wind.

(When they finish patrol, after putting half a dozen new criminals in jail, and get back to the Batcave, there's a shiny black and red and yellow motorbike in the middle of cave that wasn't there before they left for patrol and that neither Robin nor Jason have ever seen before, and it has the Robin insignia on the side, and he thinks its brand new and-

"Custom made, for Robin."

(Jason gushes about it all the way up the stairs and the whole walk to his room and he wouldn't be surprised if he had talked about it in his sleep, too, because his dreams are filled of him riding his brand-new, custom-made Robin bike throughout the city and fighting crime, but on a motorcycle!))

------

"Happy fifteenth, Master Jason." 

Jason wakes up to the curtains in his bedroom being pulled open, the morning sun burning his sleepy eyes, and he immediately pulls the covers over his head and squeezes his green-blue eyes shut; said covers are snatched away only a second later by the same man who's just so kindly reminded him of his birthday.

"If you do not wish to open your presents, I can gladly send them back. I'm sure Master Bruce would agree." Alfred walks to Jason's bedroom door, only to pause, looking over his shoulder. "Not to mention, the breakfast I cooked up for you."

Alfred gestures to the boy's dresser before exiting the room, lightly shutting the door behind him, and it's only now that Jason recognizes the smell of food in his room and he rubs the remaining sleep out of his eyes before he looks over to his dresser to see a silver tray filled with all of his favorite breakfast foods and a glass of orange juice, no doubt fresh squeezed by Alfred himself. Jason wastes no time in grabbing the freshly cooked meal; birthdays are the only days Alfred will allow breakfast in bed, after all.

------

The day goes by slowly, school just as boring on Jason's birthday as it is any other day, and he doesn't have many friends to wish him happy birthday or receive presents from. The two friends he does have, though, have pulled their money together to buy Jason a new Nintendo DS game and a Playboy magazine one of the kid's older brothers bought for them (Jason laughs it off, trying not to show his discomfort; it's not like he could just tell his friends he's gay, who knows how they'd react?), and his English teacher gives him a brand new copy of How To Kill A Mockingbird, which his friends make fun of him for, but English has always been his favorite subject so he's never been anything but a teacher's pet when it comes to the sweet old lady who teaches his class. Plus, Jason's pretty sure she's a lesbian because she only ever refers to her spouse by gender-neutral terms despite the number of students and staff alike who seem to think she really intends to say "husband" and that she just "misspoke", and Jason's young, queer heart swells with joy knowing that there's other people out there in the world like him, especially older people. We've always been here.

(Jason spends all day wondering why Dick hasn't wished him a happy birthday, especially considering how the circus boy has always made such a huge deal about birthday in the past, and for a moment Jason panics- what if Dick knows I like him and he hates me for it and he never wants to speak to me again and- the final bell rings, interrupting Jason's thoughts, and the boy shakes his head as he grabs his backpack, making his way to Gotham Academy's front gates where Alfred picks him up in that ridiculous mini limousine that Jason hates because he just wants to feel like a normal kid and go to a normal high school, not this fancy, prestigious "academy" that Bruce and Alfred make him go to for a "proper" education.

Dios mío, I sound like a middle school girl.)

------

When Jason gets home (he only just recently started referring to Wayne Manor as home), Bruce is waiting for him at the door, a seriously serious look on his face, and Jason thinks he's in trouble for running off last night as Robin because he hasn't done anything else to piss the man off recently, at least, not that he can remember. Of course, instead of just asking what, if anything, he did wrong-

"You look constipated, old man. Seriously, who pissed in your Cheerios?"

"Master Jason!" Alfred looks offended for Bruce, though Jason's pretty sure it's only mock offense, if the laugh-disguised-cough is anything to go by; Bruce just rolls his eyes.

"Cave. Now." And Bruce is walking off, presumably to the nearest secret entrance to the Batcave. 

Jason sets down his backpack by the door, mumbling about "my birthday" and "one day off" and "I didn't even do anything", before following Bruce.

When he gets to the cave, Bruce- Batman- Bruce-Bat?- Bat-Bruce?- is already there, suit on except for the mask, and Jason wonders how the hell the man had enough time to change when Jason was only a whole ten steps behind him; Jason pulls on his suit as he speaks.

"What's up, B-man?" Jason looks at the screens on the Batcomputer, where he sees images of Joker and a woman with dark, curly hair and tan skin, as well as striking green eyes, and Jason thinks that she could be his biological mother if his dad hadn't told him she died during childbirth. "Who's she?"

Bat-Bruce doesn't reply right away, and Jason turns to the side to look at him, and only now does he see the deep frown on the mans lips and the far away look in his eyes. "Her name is Sheila Haywood."

He sounds... sad? Jason isn't sure what he hears in Bruce's voice, but he knows it's not good. "Okay...? What does Joker want with her?"

"Jason," Bruce pauses, takes a deep breath, then puts a hand on Jason's shoulder, "she's your birth mother."

The boy forces out a laugh, shrugging off Bruce's hand. "Ha. Ha. Very funny, Bruce. My mom's dead, died during childbirth, I never met the woman."

"She didn't die during childbirth, Jason. She was a doctor at Gotham General where she got caught preforming an illegal operation after her patient died, a girl no older than you are now, and fled the country to avoid jail time. She's been living abroad ever since." Bruce's frown deepens the more he talks, and his voice is flat, serious, and Jason knows he's telling the truth.

"How long have you known?"

"Jason," The man tries to explain, tries to calm Jason down, tries to do anything for the boy- but Jason-

"How long have you known, Bruce?" Jason is pissed, at Bruce for keeping this from him, at his dad for lying to him, at his mom for never contacting him, at himself for never looking into his birth mother but he never had any reason to so why would he have? And he raises his voice, "Why didn't you tell me my mother is alive!?"

Jason storms out of the cave, walking up the stairs, anger flooding his body and mind like the rainwater that used to flood the driveway of his old house with his dad during Gotham's raging storms, and he knows he needs to calm down or else he'll destruct and probably hurt himself in the process, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because he's been lied to his whole life by the people he thought he could trust- the people he should have been able to trust- and if they never cared enough about him to tell him the truth then why should he care about himself enough to take a deep breath, and calm down, and think- 

I'm going after her. Joker has her so she's in danger and I have to save her because she's my mom and I need to know why she never- I need to save her. For the mission, for the job.

Jason turns around, heading back down into the cave and putting on his domino mask. Batman is already gone, and so is the Batmobile; Robin checks the Batcomputer for Joker and his moms- Sheila's- location, hops onto his new bike, and revs the engine, speeding out of the Batcave. 

(In his hurry and his still simmering rage, Robin misses the glitch of numbers, misses the static of an outside source hacked into the Bat-frequency.)

------

Dick Grayson flashes a smile at his coworker as he walks out of the bar, ready to drive the hour-long trip from Blüdhaven to Gotham to surprise his little brother for his birthday. He had originally planned to get the day off from work so he could spend all day with Jason, but he waited too long to be approved for a vacation day, though luckily, he was able to convince his boss to only give him the day shift instead night (it really makes his night job much, much easier that way), so a sleepover will have to do, and Dick was never scheduled to work tomorrow anyway. Before he leaves, the bartender triple checks the trunk of his car for Jason's present and the cooler containing the homemade cake he baked yesterday afternoon, following a recipe Alfred had given him after Dick had quite literally gotten on his knees and begged, ever the Drama Queen.

------

The location brings Robin to a warehouse at the outskirts of Gotham. The place is definitely Jokers, with balloons and party streamers all over the outside, and when he looks inside via an open side window, he sees the interior matches the exterior with dark, velvet purple and acidic green party decorations. He sneaks through the window, ready to beat Joker and save Sheila, only for the lights to snap on- Joker knew he was coming- and Robin glances at the window, fucking motion detectors.

"Welcome, welcome, little Robin!" Joker stands in the middle of the warehouse, sickly grin stretching wide across his face, staring directly at the 'little' vigilante. "I've been expecting you! Hah, hahaha!"

Robin drops down in front of the laughing lunatic. "What do you want, Joker!? Where is Sheila Haywood!?"

"What do I want? Hm? Why to see the look on a certain birdies face when Mama Bird betrays him, of course!"

A rag is shoved in his face from behind before he can respond and he turns to see Sheila- his mother- standing there, before his vision fades and his body collapses.

------

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slippin' under With a taste of a poison-

Dicks about half-way to Gatham when his phone goes off, Brittany Spears serenading his eardrums. He answers the call at a red light, glancing at the Caller I.D. long enough to read "Alfred", and puts the phone on speaker before the light turns green and he's moving again.

"Hey, Alfred! What's up?"

"Master Richard," Alfreds voice is shaky as he speaks, and Dick's eyebrows furrow together in worry, "Master Jason is... missing."

------

Cold, wet.

Robin gasps awake, body shivering as ice-cold water is thrown at his face, soaking his hair and trailing down his forehead-nose-cheeks-chin until the liquid lands on his suit, soaking through his body armor. His can feel the rope around his wrists and ankles, and Robin realizes he's tied to a chair. He hears Joker before he sees him, that sickeningly sadistic laugh screaming at his eardrums and aggravating his already pounding head; he must have hit his head on the ground earlier when he fell, or maybe it's just a side effect of being fucking drugged in the first place.

"Jason Todd!" The Joker is directly in front of him, and it's only now that Robin- Jason- realizes his mask is gone. "Oh, don't look so surprised, little bird! How would I have known about Mommy Dearest if I didn't know about you?"

"Trap. This was a-"

"A trap!" Joker mimics him, screeching like a siren, before he throws the bucket he was holding to the ground, the sound ringing throughout the warehouse, suddenly angry. "God! How stupid are you? The other kid would've sniffed that out from the beginning! Seriously, how did Bats find you? Did you get dropped on your head as a baby? Oh, oh!"

The Joker grins again and walks behind Jason, sharply turning the chair he's bound to, and now Jason can see his mom tied to a support beam; duct tape covers her mouth, crimson slipping through the tape and dripping down her chin. Her curly hair is disheveled and sticking up at odd angles, and her emerald eyes are wide, shaking with fear. She struggles against her restraints and the clown laughs again, stalking over to Sheila.

"Why don't we ask her?" Joker rips the tape off of Sheila's mouth, cackling as she lets out a short scream, and Jason gasps once more, immediately noticing the long, jagged cuts on either side of her mouth, mimicking a smile. "Did Mama Bird drop Baby Birdie on his head?"

Sheila doesn't respond, just shaking her head back and forth, blood spilling down her tan cheeks and staining her clothes. She whimpers when Joker pulls at her hair and demands an answer. "No, no, no!"

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jason knows he should be mad, Sheila betrayed him, her own son, but she's still his mother and he can't just sit back and watch as Joker abuses her- but he has to, because his utility belt is gone so he has no tools he can use to cut his way free and Joker is looking at him like he knows exactly what Jason is think and he just laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"Aw, how sweet! Baby Bird wants to protect Mommy!" Joker lets go of Sheila's hair, practically throwing her head to the side. 

Suddenly, Joker is behind Jason again, and then Jason hears the screeching sound of metal dragging against concrete, and his brain pounds, pounds, pounds against his skull and he pulls against his binds, twisting and turning as much as he can and-

THUNK!

His head jerks back at the force and the next hit has him falling sideways in the chair until he hits the ground, and he swears he can hear his skull crack against the concrete. 

"Ha! HAHAHA!" The Joker is in front of him now, bending over to look at him, and Jason can see the crowbar in his paper white hands for a split second before he's being hit again, and again, and again, body being battered black and blue as his costume is ripped to shreds with each hit and his own blood is pooling around him in a puddle, and if he looks down, he can see his bones poking through skin like the jagged rocks of a mountain.

As his bones crack and break, Jason can hear his mother praying in her native tongue through her sobs, Padre Nuestro and Ave Maria and Gloria filling his ears enough to block out the crazy clown's gruesome giggles.

And as Jason takes his last breath, he realizes his dad was right all those years ago; he does look like the spitting image his mother. They share the same dark, curly hair, and they have the same naturally tan skin dotted with freckles, and Jason's eyes are a similar shade of green, though his are tinted the with the pale blue of his father's eyes.

(A load BOOM! shakes the foundation of the old warehouse, smoke and flames engulfing the building and spreading through the air, but Jason doesn't even flinch.)

------

Joker is long gone by the time Batman and Nightwing get to the scene, and his decorations are burned to a crisp from the explosion, minus a single balloon that reads "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" in big, cursive letters, tied to a bloody crowbar and surrounded by a multitude of custom Joker playing cards, stylized in the whitest of white and dark purple and acid green.

The two vigilantes run into the falling warehouse, shifting through rubble and searching for, screaming for, "Robin! Robin! Jason!"

They find Sheila first, she's hunched over, and her clothes are singed, barely covering her, allowing Nightwing and The Batman to see the extensive burns on her back, and she's muttering the same phrase over and over again, "Lo siento, lo siento mucho!" 

"Dr. Haywood?" She whips around at Nightwings voice, and both him and Batman grimaces at the carved smile on her face.

"Help! Help him!" Sheila sobs, turning back to what- who- she was hunched over. "Help my baby!"

Batman gives a sharp intake at the sight of Jason, kneeling next to Shelia to pick the boy up; she grabs at his arm, but her grip is weak, and he notices how shallow her breath is. "Nightwing, get her out of here. She needs medical attention. I've got Jason."

If the break in his voice is heard, no one acknowledges it. 

"He didn't deserve this! He was a good boy, he didn't deserve this!" Sheila cries as Nightwing helps her to her feet, but she does nothing to stop him, and he guides her out of the building; Batman follows behind them, Jason's bruised and beaten body laying limp in his arms, and he falls to his knees once they're all far enough away from the building, tears forcing their way out of his tear ducts and streaming down his face as he holds his deceased son in his arms.

"Sheila, she didn't- she barely made it out of the building before she..." Nightwing leans down next to him, voice trailing off and face painted in tears as he holds Jason's unmoving hand in his own. He whispers, "Happy Birthday, Runaway." 

The warehouse crumbles behind them, crashing down as Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson mourn the loss of a son, a brother, and a friend.

[insidetheravensmind]

Stray Kids Recommended Masterlist

This is a masterlist dedicated Stray Kids fanfics. Most of the works are smutty, but not all. I do not know which ones are which. None of these works are mine, as I have a separate list for those. All credit goes to the owners who wrote these, and I hope all of you enjoy them. I will try to update this as much as I can! Note: All members will have their own separated sections, however, anything with 2+ members in them will be located below in their own section.

EDIT (9/15/23): I will be adding more very soon. I am working on making masterlists for each member and linking them at the bottom of their list on here! It will take me awhile because I've got many lines up.

Last updated: 09/15/23

BANGCHAN ~ Crayons ~ Cold Face ~ Channie's Room ~ All Mine ~ Hot and Cold ~ Pain Killer ~ Runaway with Me

MINHO ~ 6:00 ~ Untitled #7 ~ Horror House ~ Nasty ~ Appease Part Two ~ Barb Wired Brat CHANGBIN ~ This Is What I Want ~ Remedy ~ Untitled #4 ~ Mr. Tough Guy ~ Petty Works ~ Prettier When I'm A Mess ~ A Numbing Surprise ~ (No Title) ~ Roommate ~ Say Sorry ~ Needy ~ Dress ~ Trying ~ Red Dress On the Balcony ~ The Island ~ Admiration ~ Pay Attention ~ For Your Eyes Only ~ Reset ~ Own Me ~ Passion ~ Lift ~ Think About Nothing But Me ~ Kinktober Day 12 ~ Sensitive ~ Kinktober Day 3 ~ 7:48 PM ~ Begging Binnie ~ Rubdown ~ Videotapes

HYUNJIN ~ Red Lights Part One ~ Red Lights Part Two ~ Oblivious ~ Spicy Vanilla ~ (No Title) ~ Battle of Wills

HAN ~ A Penny For Your Thoughts ~ Like A Rockstar ~ Hate Sex ~ Inhale Me ~ Payback ~ Public Display of Affection ~ Disobey? Disturb? Disrespect? | Appease Part Three ~ The Right Type Of Wrong ~ Chill ~ Otherworldly

FELIX ~ Pancakes for Two ~ Kinktober Day 15 ~ 20:09 PM ~ Kinktober Day 24 ~ Sharing A Bed

SEUNGMIN ~ Catfish (from series: One By One) ~ Dirty ~ Jealousy, Jealousy ~ Routine ~ (No Title) ~ Home Run

JEONGIN ~ Dean's List ~ Kiss Me, Not Him! ~ The New Pledge ~ Be Mine ~ Oh, Angel

3RACHA ~ Behind the Screen | 3RACHA ~ Your Moans Would Sound Nice | 3RACHA ~ Complicated | 3RACHA ~ Sharing is Caring | 3RACHA ~ Appease Part One | 3RACHA ~ 3RACHA X Thick Reader

OT8 ~ Share You With the Boys | OT8 ~ Chubby Reader | OT8 ~ When was the last time you went to the circus? | OT8 ~ Yandere Headcanons | OT8 ~ Stray Kids React to Squirting | OT8 ~ S(inister)KZ Maniacs: Masterlist ~ Game Night

SEVERAL MEMBERS ( x reader) ~ Rekindled | Changbin and Hyunjin ~ Want to watch my girlfriend? | Minho, Changbin, and Hyunjin ~ Don't Stop | Bangchan and Changbin ~ Kinktober Day 9 | Changbin and Felix ~ The More The Merrier | Minho and Han ~ Kinktober Day 29 | Changbin and Jeongin ~ Thick Reader | Minho and Felix ~ Cheating on You | Bangchan and Changbin ~ Angel in the Studio | Bangchan and Han ~ Deadlines Pt 2 | Changbin and Han

[theaceofarrows]

What I think Jason's ringtones for everyone would be⬇

Bruce - the Imperial March from Star Wars

Alfred - Beethoven

Dick - Afro Circus from Madagascar 3

Barbara - the Mission Impossible theme

Tim - a recording of him humming the Red Robin jingle

Stephanie - Cherry Bomb by The Runaways

Cass - the Swan Lake theme

Damian - a recording of Damian screaming bloody murder at him for 30 seconds straight

Duke - Whoomp! (There It Is) by Tag Team

Kate - Back In Black by AC/DC

Roy - The Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy

Kory - Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid

Rose - Partners In Crime by Set It Off

Artemis - Unstoppable by Sia

John Constantine - Hellfire from The Hunchback of Notre Dame

[taylormarieee]

IDK IF YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN, BUT I HAVE AN IDEA!! WHAT IF THERE WAS A READER THAT LIKE WAS IN THE CIRCUS?? LIKE THEY DONT HAVE TO BE A RUNAWAY BUT LIKE THEYRE IN A CIRCUS, AND LIKE LUKE GOES TO THE CIRCUS THAT THEY ARE IN AND LIKE IDK HES ON A QUEST OR SMTH AND IDK IDK. AND I DONT HAVE ALL RHE DETAILS BUT THEY COULD GO BACKSTAGE OR SMTH 🤭😏 AND THEN THERE COULD BE FLUFF AT THE END?? ILYYY

- 🪰 (a simple fly on the wall 😗)

LMAOOO! This was too cute, I love you too! You are my slutty little fly on the wall pookie! Ofcc I have a idea of what your trying to go with and I got you babes. Can be found in my masterlist as "Daredevils and One night stands"

You were an acrobat. You did cool tricks and were very flexible. You enjoyed working at the circus. It brought you peace and made your blood run hot in your veins.

Everybody called you a daredevil, sometimes even a clown with the stuff you did. You were a goofball and goofed around everyday. Playing with your life on that tightrope. But you didn't care.

Not one bit. It was exciting for you, not fearful. So when you had your next show tonight you decided to be extra dangerous. You decided you were going to walk on the tight rope with fire.

"Are you ready?" Your partner for the stunt asked. You gave him a big smile and nodded. "Hell yea I'm ready!" You say juggling both the unlit torches in your hand.

What you weren't expecting was that there was this fine ass boy in the stands that you could see from backstage. He had a scar on his eye, black curls, and the most beautiful smile you've ever seen.

His lips so full and pink, and god you wanted to suck on them all night. His jawline was immaculate and his facial features were just god like.

As if Zeus crafted him himself. You stared at him and soon he looked in your direction and made eye contact. You smiled and waved and he smirked and waved back.

'God what the hell were you doing'. You internally face palmed and rolled your eyes. You heard someone call your name. It was jake, your partner for the stunts.

"Ok so after the clowns go, we go up there and close out the show. You'll be balancing on my shoulders while I walk and you hold the fire. Your then going to flip the torches in the air, do a handstand on my shoulders and then I will catch the torches, got it?" He asks with a savage smirk on his face.

"I was born ready baby!" You laugh as you two do your signature handshake before preparing by getting dressed and getting your props ready.

After the show your met with everyone backstage, each and everyone of you congratulating each other on a great job.

You tie your curls up into a bun and make your way to your dressing room. On the way there your stopped by the same cute boy that was in the audience.

'How'd he get down here?' You thought. "Hey, I'm Luke and I just wanted to say your performance was bat shit crazy, but I liked it." He says with a charming smile.

You get to see his features up close and damn was he fine. Sexist boy you've ever seen. His scar looks so much better up close and his plump lips are so pink.

His smile is amazing with pearly whites radiating and shining under the dim light.

"Hi, uhm thank you! I am a bit of a daredevil so you know... Would you like to come in?" you ask with a polite smile on your face.

He nods and you look down at his lips with a smile. 'God I wonder how his lips would feel on my pu-' You shake your thoughts away before they get too far and open the door to your trailer.

He lets you go in first and then he goes in and closes the door. 'Wow hot and a gentleman!' You thought.

"Welcome to my humble abode. Hope you like it." You say with a laugh. He chuckles with you and sets himself down on the couch.

"I usually don't allow people in here, especially strangers but for you I've made an exception." You say walking to the mini fridge to grab a soda.

He gets up and comes up behind you. You don't feel his presence at first until you stand up back still faced him and you hear his voice.

"Glad you did. Wouldn't have gotten to meet the girl I've been feigning for all night." He whispers as he wraps a hand around your waist.

Your eyes go wide as you spin around noticing he's pinned you against the counter. You gulp and put the two soda's you pulled out on the countertop.

"I-Is that right... h-how lucky am I." You say nervously as his eyes rake over your body like a scanning machine. His eyes are darker than before and he looks intrigued yet intimidating. Your a lot shorter than him so he towers over you extremely.

"Wanna make you scream for some odd reason. Like I'm addicted to you and I need you. So why don't you be a good girl and bend over so I can beat that pretty pussy up hm?" He says lowly. His voice demanding and seductive.

You obey and bend over against the cold countertop and let Luke rip off all articles of clothing that belong to you.

You whimper out at the feeling of his fingers sending small light smacks to your ass. He rubs his fingers along your pussy lips and gathers all your wetness before trailing his fingers up to your clit.

He rubs his fingers in a figure 8 motion sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Oh f-fuck Luke! Right there, that feels s-so good, mhmm!" You whimper out as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Ya gonna cum baby? hmm? Just off my fingers? How pathetic." He degrades. You whine as your thighs shake. He's knuckles deep and your begging for a release.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean before you can even feel the sweet sensation of your release. "Ohh Luke c'mon! Pleasee!" You whine out hearing him chuckle behind you.

"Oh come on princess, you don't even know me. You want this badly huh?" He says chuckling at how desperate you are.

"Well it's not my fault," you starts as you turn to face him pointing your finger in his chest. "You came in my trailer, touching on me and getting me riled up saying how you wanted to pound my pussy. So live up to what you said and fuck me!" You say in aroused frustration.

The need to cum getting to your head and making you dizzy. He smirks and bends you over. He runs his lengthy, girthy cock through your soaked folds and you whimper.

“Gosh just put it in alre- ahhh!” You cry out as Luke thrusts his cock inside your tight walls.

His thrusts hard and fast as he rams his big fat cock in you.

“yea? Hmm? Shut you up real quick! Like this dick in your walls baby?” He says with a smirk on his face.

you whine out moaning at the feeling. You claw at his bicep feeling the muscle flex under your fingertips.

“ahh gon gonna cum Lukey, I’m gonna cum so hard! Can I cum please?” You beg feeling your orgasm approaching faster than you thought.

He chuckles darkly behind you and before he can even answer your door flies open causing Luke to pause his abuse on your cunt as he looks at the door revealing your stunt partner standing there in awe.

Your eyes wide as you freeze as you’ve just been caught having sex in your trailer by your best friend…

Taglist:@elaratckker @lizziesfirstwife @angelicdanvers @prettyinsatiable @angelinajolie0213 @maryann2013 @kneehe-nehar7 @rhydianissuperior @urmomsbananabread @reader-bookling123 @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @csifandom @repostingmyfavs @leo-lvr @glorywielder101 @aanoia @madelainelupin16 @ahh-chickens @callsignwidow @murdrdocs @bright-molina

A/N: part two???? Hope yall enjoyed! mwah💋

[fionajames]

circus au headcanons

A/N: Hey lovelies, hope your all fantastic! Have some circus au headcanons! Please send requests, I'm desperate. Please!

 Jedi Caravan:

Yoda, ringmaster: short man with long green and white hair, long green and white beard, green eyes and light skin.

Mace, second in command: tall man with brown skin, amber eyes, bald.

Shaak: tall woman with rosey skin, white birthmarks that look markings, long blue and white hair, yellow eyes. Aunt or some decent relation of Ahsoka.

Kit: man with long, afro green hair, dark eyes, dark skin.

Ki-Adi: man with light skin, blue eyes, bald.

104th Caravan

Plo: man with dark skin, short black hair, amber eyes.

Wolffe: boy with short black hair, one brown eye one robotic grey eye, tan skin.

Sinker: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

Comet: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

Boost: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

212th Caravan

Obi-Wan: man with ginger hair, ginger beard, light freckled skin, blue eyes

Cody: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin, scar on forehead

Waxer: usual appearance (i forgot)

Boil: usual appearance (i forgot)

Trapper: boy with short black hair, brown eyes, tan skin.

501st Caravan

Anakin: boy with medium length brown hair, blue eyes, light skin, scar over right eye.

Ahsoka: girl with orangey-tan skin, cream marking-like birthmarks, blue eyes, braided blue and white hair

Rex: boy with blonde buzzcut, tan skin, brown eyes

Jesse: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, bald

Fives: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, short black hair

Echo: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, short black hair

Tup: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, long black hair

Hardcase: boy with brown eyes, tan skin, bald

Members of other Caravans (only a few, doesn’t include all members.)

Depa: woman with long brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin

Caleb: boy with short brown hair, brown eyes, light skin

Cal: boy with scruffy ginger hair, blue eyes, light freckled skin

Jaro: man with short purple hair, dark skin, purple eyes

Barris: girl with long braided black hair, charcoal skin, green eyes, black freckles

Luminara: woman with short black hair, charcoal skin, green eyes, black freckles

THOSE ARE ROUGHLY THE MAIN MEMBERS OF THE CIRCUS, BUT THERE ARE MORE

HEADCANONS NOW

Okay so, basically, the Republic’s circus (idk) is being funded by a wealthy man named Sheev Palpatine. Secretly, Palpatine is not only funding, but in charge of the Separatists’ circus. 

Most droids are in the Circus au, usually either horses, dogs or occasionally cats. 

A man named Jango Fett had a very large family with lots of sons and cousins and one daughter. No one knows why there are so many boys.

All the family apart from Jango and the youngest generation died, and then so did Jango, leaving them all orphaned. At that time, the circus was coming through their town, so many of them joined.

Most circus members are orphans or runaways.

Luminara and Barriss are probably very distantly related, same with Shaak and Ahsoka. 

Younger circus members are apprenticed to older members.

Qui-Gon was killed by a criminal on the run named Maul, who had actually been part of the Separatist circus. He killed Qui-Gon because he was guarding the money box.

A month before that, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had found Anakin and his mother Shmi. Shmi was very broke and decided her son would have a better life with them.

Padme and the rest of the senate are basically just wealthy people.

Padme and Anakin met two weeks after Qui-Gon adopted him. They meet up whenever they can. The relationship is sort-of-forbidden, very frowned upon because the wealthy people like the circus for entertainment and then think the people are poor and peasants.

Everyone in the circus knows Padme and Anakin are dating, even though they think no one knows. It’s very obvious.

If the Separatists and the Republic are in the same area, fights often break out. People sometimes die, but its more common for people to get seriously injured and leave the circus. 

The Separatists kidnapped Echo as a hostage and everyone thought he ran away but some new Jango-spawn members to the circus, Fives, Rex, Anakin and Ahsoka found him and brought him back.

Ahsoka left the circus at one point for a month after being accused of a robbery the Separatists committed but returned quickly. 

Some of the Jango-spawn (Fox, Thorn, Thire, etc) work for Palpatine as his guards, cause he’s a rich bitch.

Some members - if not orphans or runaways - like Anakin were simply given over in hopes of a better life. Ahsoka was one of these, also because her parents feared they weren’t good enough at being parents when she was taken by a mountain lion.

Ahsoka and Shaak come from an Indigenous tribe, and their teeth are more pointed and they still have their fangs. They hunt deer mostly, and cook it over the fire to eat. Their tribe are called Togrutas.

Obi-Wan was an orphan and found by Mace, who took him back to the Circus.

Obi-Wan and Anakin have an acrobatics act, whilst Ahsoka does Equestrian Vaulting. Rex and Cody play music. Jesse, Fives and Hardcase have a comedy act. After the show, a lot of the members busk to get extra money.

Fives and Ahsoka were messing around one day when they stumbled upon the Separatists camp. They were looking around when they saw Palpatine. They rushed back and told Yoda that they were being played.

Yoda cut the deal with Palpatine and made a deal with Bail Organa instead. It later turned out Palpatine was a wanted criminal, and he was sentenced to a life-sentence in a prison far away.

Palpatine’s Guard split, either joining the Republic’s circus or choosing to guard Bail. Bail treated them much, much better. 

Palpatine was also Mayor of the town, so when he was arrested, Bail took his place. Bail made it legal for the circus to marry the richer folk, claiming it was foolish and unkind, for no reason. Secretly, he knew of Padme and Anakin’s relationship, and wanted his best friend to be happy.

A few months later, Padme gave birth to twins. The Circus was still travelling, so Padme convinced Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Anakin to live at her house part-time. When the circus was close, they lived with the circus. When it was far away, they usually stayed with Padme. Ahsoka managed to convince Rex to do the same.

Anakin revealed that Palpatine had tried to get him to join the Separatists' circus before Fives and Ahsoka had discovered the betrayal. Palpatine had told him he controlled both, and that he would have more money and be closer to Padme if he joined them. However, Anakin hadn’t turned, as he loved his family too much.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, please send requests!!!

[chaifootsteps]

‘Sup, Chai! Studio Anon back at it again at their ramblings- tonight I’m feeling spicy, so why not talk about that once couple Viv’s stans froth at the mouth over: Stolitz.

I never really understood much of the appeal. Like- the trope of the commoner and the royal are fun to mess with, but those couples could work if you set them on equal grounds. There’s already a clear power dynamic set with those, so either find a solid middle area where the two could connect (ex. A runaway prince meets a cunning thief, an exiled prince meets a hermit, etc.) but you could work with the boundaries the relationship has so long as you can develop it.

But, uh- exactly where is that in Stolitz?

Stolitz already starts with an abusive power dynamic (yknow, the whole deal with the full moon and all it gross details) and it doesn’t do much to remedy that after. Stolas is a high, rich asshole who uses his status to fuck with/generally just fuck Blitz and that’s it. We never get to hear how Stolas does anything else with him- but Viv wants us to believe they care about each other? How?

Like, a scene, a moment, a glance into what those two act like without the guise of sex. And no, Ozzie’s doesn’t count since Blitz only brought Stolas along to get into the club (which is pretty fucking weird, btw. it’s a sex club, why is it just for monogamous couples? not really my point but yeah that’s weird.) and Stolas wanted to get Blitz to fuck him after so. There’s that.

It generally would’ve been better if they played up the power imbalance to really sell a more mature theme. I’m pretty sure they wanted something darker, so why not reinforce that power imbalance? Instead of Stolas being this “uwu soft baby owl boy” we could play him up as being a prince of hell. He’s immortal, he’s likely had several heirs but they’ve all died out (he’s probably outlived them but because Octavia looks so much like him he could coddle her in a sick, narcissistic way.) and only wants some fun in his life out of his boring work (which we never really see in the show, so I never really understood his placement).

Then, comes in Blitz.

Blitz, a runaway from the circus and wanting to start a new life by doing the impossible (starting a business is unheard of by imp standards iirc) and needs the book to get it going. How did he hear of the book? Hell if I know. It just happens, and he ends up sleeping with Stolas and admitting to his consort-wife he fucked him.

Stella in this pseudo-rewrite would also have a lot going on for her.

She knows she’s just another consort in a long list of others that Stolas had only to keep with heirs, but she wants her life to be meaningful. She wants to be a good mother. She wants to have a good life. She wants that high status Stolas likes to abuse so much because she’s been abused herself, by Stolas. She’s an asshole, sure, but it’s not like Stolas cares. It’s a loveless marriage, I’m sure everyone knew that.

But to be publicly embarrassed that an imp wormed his way into their bed (and Stolas, just for his imp fetish and excitement keeps Blitz around) causes a meltdown.

Then Stolas starts to see his world crash and burn as his once “obedient and boring” wife divorces him and wants custody of the child he so “adores”, IMP perhaps getting into earthly trouble due to their sloppy kills or misuse of the grimoire, and the goetia family beginning to finally gain emotion and life as Stolas’ life goes upside down.

But he doesn’t ever blame himself. He blames Stella, blames the family- hell, probably even blames Blitz because he doesn’t care about him more than just sex.

And that’s the only thing he really has a grasp on.

His impish little plaything.

JUST. Just imagine if that’s what Stolitz was: an unhealthy display of power and obsession. I’ve recently found some enjoyment writing these sorts of messed up power dynamics (similar to what I’ve written above but it’s a lot messier) and it kills me that Viv shows us a rape deal and expects us to go, “Wow!!! Such cute and wholesome gays!!!!” Like that was normal.

Use what you have, Viv. Make it fucked up. If you didn’t want your uwu yaoi ship to be so toxic, maybe rewrite it?

also ngl Stolas and Blitz designs make them look like they’re from two different shows and generally look ugly to me so the amount of ship art I’ve seen of those two make me laugh. like pick an attractive couple to make fanart and fanchildren for jfc. it’s sad.

This is a great writeup. It's frustrating how little it would take to make these two interesting, to make them likeable, but Viv just...doesn't.

[sparkypantaloons]

Safe, Sound

Bruce checks in on each of his kids before he goes to bed. Even if most of them are adults who live in their own homes...

~~

Most nights, Bruce does his best not to give into temptation. Well... paranoia, to be more accurate.

Contrary to the many admonitions from his children, he has actually had therapy. And whilst he's not always been the best at employing the coping tools he learned in his sessions, it didn't take $300 an hour to know that indulging in unhealthy behaviours was... well, unhealthy.

Some nights though, he can't help himself, and rationalises that indulging a little every now and then is by far the least destructive of all the available options.

Better a light rain, than all out storm.

Still, he does his best to 'reign it in', as Jason would say, as much as possible.

Tonight, as much as possible is zero.

It could be the weather, he considers, racing towards Bludhaven, through hail that is falling in sheets. All the bad things that have happened in his life have happened in bad weather. Pathetic fallacy at its worse. Dark clouds have always made him worry.

Or, perhaps, it might be the fact that he's exhausted, he thinks, scaling the fire-escape to the sixth floor apartment. Perpetually so, but particularly this week. Back to back nights facing nothing but the infantry of Gotham's worst. No detective work involved, just a battle of attrition, against thugs and goons and scum. The fatigue of it settling in his bones. Slowing him down, when he needs to be fast.

Then again, there's every chance it's Jason. He mulls it over as he disables the security measures on the apartment window, squeezing his sizable frame through the much smaller opening. Last he spoke to his second son, the twenty-four year old had told Bruce to go fuck himself, before promptly jumping off the nearest roof. Jason had always been one for melodramatics, but the first time his boy had stormed off in such a huff he had literally died, so Bruce isn't too hard on himself that a repeat performance makes him anxious.

Maybe though, he decides, stepping lightly across the wooden floor, careful to avoid the warped beams that would sing under his weight, maybe, this is just being a father. And whether your children are adults or not, whether they fight crime in disguises or not, some nights, for no reason at all, you just... worry.

When Bruce had been a boy, a little boy, no more than six or seven, his parents had bought him a rabbit. Flopsy, she'd been called And he'd been obsessed. Such a soft, fluffy little thing. He'd watched her fall asleep in the evenings, all snug in her hutch. Only to wake in the middle of the night, suddenly convinced she wasn't breathing. Having to rush over and check, carefully watching for the rise and full of her tiny body.

It's the same example he had given his therapist, when explaining why some nights he just needs to check, needs to see with his own eyes that his children are okay. That they're safe. Alive. If only to stop the runaway train of terrible thoughts that loops his mind.

He looks down on Dick's sleeping form, the younger man's cheeks flushed with warm. His hair is sticking out all over the place, his arms flung above his head. Blissfully unaware that the Batman stands over him.

Dick has always slept like the dead. Had spent his early years in the circus afterall, a perpetual hive of activity and movement and noise. Dick impervious to it all, falling asleep on whatever comfortable surface was available. Totally oblivious to the world around him.

Bruce watches the gentle rise and fall of his boy's chest. Slows his breathing to be in time with Dick's. Lets the calm of it wash over him. Then he turns to leave the way he came. Resetting the security measures as he goes.

These days he has a tried and tested routine for checking on his family. With Dick in Bludhaven more often than not, he usually has to start there, (depending on Nightwing's evening activities). Then he loops back to Gotham, and moves on to the next.

Stephanie is easy to check. Easier than he'd like, in fact. Most of his kids, and kid-adjacents, have inherited his own paranoia around security. Have layers and layers of protection around their homes. But Steph still lives with her mother. A mother who hasn't even the remotest suspicion that her daughter is Gotham vigilante Spoiler, by the way. So the former Robin can't exactly booby trap their apartment windows.

She does have a couple of cameras set up outside of them though. So Bruce's first step is always to hack their system. Set them to loop the last three seconds, so she doesn't know he's been there. Then he'll slide open the window. Sit in the frame and watch until his heart calms that fraction more.

Except tonight, there's no way to open the window without waking her. Weather as awful as it is. Hail plinking against the pane. The best he can do is press his forehead to the glass. Watch her through the heat vision lenses of the cowl, and try to untwist the worry in his heart.

Steph sleeps like Dick does, arms splayed above her head. As though she was too tired to do anything but fall into bed. The sheets are a tangle, strewn across her sleeping form. Arms and feet and leg left uncovered, diagonal across the bed.

Bruce slips quietly away. Unloops the camera traps as he goes.

Jason is next. And couldn't be more opposite to Steph when it comes to security. Maybe most like Bruce in some respects.

He never sleeps in the same place two nights in a row; uses a complicated pattern for choosing which safehouse to stay in next. The security on each is as complex as anything Bruce has ever seen. And if it wouldn't immediately trigger a flurry of furious epithets from the younger man, Bruce would tell him how impressed he is. How proud he is.

However impressed he might be, Bruce is still Jason's Dad. Is still the one that taught him, gave him the solid foundation that his skills and training are built on. It takes him a while, but Bruce still manages to disable the security measures on the living room window of safe house 13. Makes his way carefully to the bedroom.

Jason has never been an easy sleeper. More like a cat than anything else. Ready to wake and bolt at the slightest of disturbances. He curls up like one too. Duvet and pillow hugged tight to his chest. Face set in perpetual frown, knees drawn close to his body.

He grinds his teeth too, and Bruce briefly wonders if his boy has been wearing his mouth guard, like he's supposed to.

He resists the temptation to check. Resists too, the urge to gently rub away the worry lines from Jason's forehead. Instead just listens in wonder, at the gentle snores that provide the incontrovertible proof that his darling boy is alive.

He always lingers a little longer with Jason, always so grateful that Jason's there to check at all. Instead of the cold, empty room that had been left in his place for so long.

Then he leaves the way he came. Takes his time ensuring the security measures are restored just right. Before slipping back into the wind and the hail and the night.

Tim is next. And Bruce isn't sure which is worse, that Tim now lives on a boat or that he's got a boyfriend.

Bruce hates boats. No real reason, just never been a fan. And... well, no, okay, he doesn't hate that Tim has a boyfriend. But he does hate that Tim having a boyfriend means checking in on him is now a little... weird.

Consider: doting father checking in on his much loved son? Acceptable. Understandable. Endearing even.

But: much loved son in bed with his new boyfriend, when doting father arrives? No longer endearing. No longer endearing at all. Now weird and uncomfortable and a little bit creepy.

Small mercies mean that, tonight at least, Bruce knows Bernard isn't around. And for that he is thankful. Whatever is driving this particular bout of paranoia won't be satiated by a vitals check. Even if Tim is the only one of his children willing to let Bruce monitor them 24/7. The silver lining of a missing spleen, Bruce thinks.

The real problem with Tim though, is the sleep talking. More than once Bruce has been sure the younger man has seen him, when he starts angrily garbling out sleep-tinged words. Only for Tim to then end the sentence with something utterly bizarre, like "put the gravy in the toilet", or "remember to pay the elephants".

It's adorable, and dangerous. Because Bruce is then left trying desperately not to laugh and blow his cover. It wouldn't do for the Batman to fail at his most basic stealth training because he got caught giggling, after all.

Tim is already mumbling to himself by the time Bruce reaches him. The younger man's face smushed into the pillow, one arm flung over the edge of the bed.

"I need the teapots to unsubscribe." He says angrily, words slurring together with sleep. "Why did you promise me parachutes?"

Bruce tries not to grin too wide as he makes his way from the boat.

The hail has turned to snow now, and it's nearing half four in the morning. The Batmobile cuts through the flurry, heading West across the river and out of the city. Bruce puts a call through to Cass.

"What's wrong?" She says as she answers, face appearing in the Batmobile HUD. She knows how early it is in Gotham.

"Nothing," Bruce says with a tired smile. "Missed you."

Cass rolls her eyes affectionately. "Home next week."

"How's Hong Kong?" Bruce asks, as the car pulls off the bridge.

Cass frowns, tilts her head side to side. "Unhappy." She says.

"Hn." Bruce replies. He's been following news of the unrest relentlessly since Cass has been gone. It's not even a week, but he'll be happier once she's home. Always worried she'll make the trip permanent, like she had once before.

"Bad night?" Cass asks.

Bruce shakes his head. "No." He lies.

Cass sees through it. "More sleep." She admonishes gently, and taps her watch on the screen. "Nearly home?"

Bruce chuffs a small laugh, he's meant to be the parent here. "Nearly home." He reassures her.

Cass nods, blows a small kiss to the screen then clicks off the call. Bruce pulls into the Cave.

Alfred is stood waiting by the car bay. He looks unipressed. "What time do you call this?" He asks, eyebrow raised as Bruce climbs out of the car.

Bruce looks sheepish. Shucks off the cowl. "Sorry," he says "I—" He cuts himself off. Chest tight again as he thinks back to the start of the night. The all-consuming worry for his family. The inescapable need to check, to know that they were okay.

Alfred gives him a sad smile, holds a hand to Bruce's face. "You need more sleep, lad." He says gently. "Let's get you to bed."

Bruce nods. "That's what Cass said." He leans into the touch ever so slightly.

"Smart girl, that one." Alfred says with a grin, gently helping Bruce remove the cape and gauntlets.

"Let me check the boys first." Bruce says, once his uniform is off. Alfred leading him out of the Cave.

Alfred heaves a sigh. "Safe and sound asleep for at least four hours, Bruce."

"I know, I just..."

Alfred nods knowingly. Squeezes Bruce's shoulder. "Sunday brunch is at 11am. I expect you to be on time." He says.

Bruce gives him a small smile. "G'night Alfred."

"Goodnight, son."

Bruce heads to Duke's room first. The teenager isn't often at the Manor. Stays with his cousin Jay in The Narrows most nights. But the commute to Gotham Academy is shorter from the Wayne Estate and he has exams this week.

The teenager's lights are still on, school work strewn across his desk. He's half sitting in bed, a physics text book open against his chest, glasses still on. Bruce crosses the room quietly, easier now he's in slippers and pyjamas, and gently pulls the book from Duke. Carefully slips his glasses off his face. Duke stirs ever so slightly, sliding further down the bed to be more horizontal. Bruce tugs the covers up. Switches off the light.

Damian's room is next to Bruce's and as he pushes the door, Bruce is ready for the night to be over. For the tightness in his chest to finally ease, and the unbidden thoughts that taunt him with unfulfilled horror to cease. But Damian isn't there, his bed empty, sheets kicked to the floor.

For a moment Bruce's vision whites out in panic, his lungs paralysed as he tries to make his brain work again. Kick-start his mind's hard drive and scan all the contingencies it stores, because his boy's, his darling littlest boy is—

"Father?" Says a small voice, thick with sleep. A warm little hand, slips into Bruce's own. Damian looks up at him. He's wearing dinosaur pyjamas. Rubs at his eyes with a small fist.

Bruce picks him up without thinking. Sits the nine year old on his hip and hugs him close.

Damian settles his head against Bruce's shoulder. Pushes his palm to Bruce's chest, frowns at the rapid beating of his father's heart.

"Wosswrong?" He mumbles, eyes already slipping closed.

Bruce squeezes him tight. "Nothing son, nothing at all."

He considers for a moment putting Damian back down in his bed, but the nine year old's fingers cling to his shirt.

Instead Bruce takes them both to his own room, settles the pair of them under his own covers.

Damian falls asleep almost immediately. He's curled into Bruce's side, clinging to his arm like a baby koala. Bruce runs a hand through his boy's hair, let's out a long, slow breath.

Sleep is calling him now, the world outside muted by the snow that steadily falls from above.

He has one more check to make. Reaches for his phone and thumbs in the passcode for the interface that will show him the status of his team, his family. A text comes through the encrypted comms chat before the information loads.

Oracle > Batman: About time you got home. Safe & sound here. See you for brunch x

Bruce smiles, finally gives into the temptation to sleep as relief washes over him at last. He fires off a single character response before he slips away to dreams.

Batman > Oracle: 🦇

[bea-story]

Chapter/ Song and "Era" Titles

Idiot Teenagers + ...And So It Begins Eps.

Sticky Notes Written By Wizard Late Nights on the Bus Skydiving off of Skyscrapers --------------------------------- Heartbreak or Homicide () Spring break of Senior Year

Scrapes & Scars

Bloody Nose Don't Call Me Sweetheart The Floor (a.n. still iffy on this title) I (might) Like A Boy Not Another Icarus Sunset Eyes Runaways The Definition of Blasphemy Scrapes & Scars Liar, Liar

Lavender Ghost

House of The Devil Graveyard Purgatory Bubble Shadows Third Wheel Interlude: Birthdays Were Never Any Fun How The Angels Sing Lavender Ghost Red Roots Welcome To The Wedding Until The End of Everything Wake Up Alive Bonus: Hiraeth

Chemical Emotions

New Distractions Sucker Punch Loverboy Neon Lights Paper Crowns Scar Tissue (Lucas) Weddings & Funerals Never Again Feral Cats Cut Loose Extravagant Disasters Chemicals Emotions Bonus: Don't Believe a Single Thing Bonus: What If...?

Album #4 (a.n. this is intentional)

It was supposed to be "Circus Freak" "Greatest hits for a mediocre band"

Secrets Die With The Songbird Ep. (a.n. i haven't come up with the titles yet. this was a new addition to connect the next album and tie it in)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Made for Consumption

It's Not A Promise, It's A Premonition Family Fame Ratking Spotlight Lover Emergency Contact Die Pretty (a.n. still iffy on this title) Apologies Meant Nothing Anyways Silent Songbird Butterfly Haunted By The Living (or) Funeral For The Very Much Alive

these titles belong to me and this story, relation to real songs or media is largely coincidental. and, i know i don't 'own' them, but please don't 'steal' these titles

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 4: This Place Is Not That Place

Chapter Four.

Cruel mothers are still mothers, They make us wars, They make us revolution, They teach us the truth, early, Mothers are humans, Who sometimes give birth to their pain, Instead of children

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,606

Chapter Warnings: Themes of addiction, themes of physical abuse, barely hidden trauma, outdated conversations about mental health, strong language, weapons (specifically guns), a general lack of care about living.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Four: This Place Is Not That Place

The night before Will’s funeral, sleep had completely evaded you. After making your way home — your rage at Hopper being the only thing that forced one foot in front of the other as you stomped back — you sent yourself to bed and remained there until the sun began to peek through your curtains.

Your homework remained in your bag, clothes strewn across the floor as you buried yourself deep into your duvet, only resurfacing occasionally for air.

Your mother had returned late, drunkenly stumbling through the house, giggles escaping as she led a stranger toward her bedroom. That was when you pulled out your Walkman, blasting The Runaways through your headphones until you were sure your ears were about to bleed.

Sure, the sounds of Cherry Bomb pounding in your ears throughout the night didn’t help the headache you’d acquired by 7 a.m., but it did preserve you from a lifetime of trauma if you’d heard your mother and her friend last night.

You’d bypassed school entirely and could only be grateful that you weren’t working the evening shift at the arcade, already too exhausted to even think about the bright, flashing neon lights.

Donning the only black dress you had — thankfully, it still fit, the end of the fabric grazing along the top of your knee — and made your way to the living room, jolting slightly at the sight of your mother on the sofa, painting her lips with an old tube of lipstick.

“Where are you going?”

Rolling her eyes, she placed the lid on the tube and turned her attention towards you, “I’m going to the Circus. Where the hell do you think I’m going? To that Byers boy’s funeral. Now come on, otherwise we’ll be late.”

As if in a trance, you followed your mother out towards the car, settling into the passenger’s seat as she pulled away, making the short distance to the cemetery.

“I didn’t realize you even knew about Will.”

“Of course, I knew. Gossip spreads around this town quicker than mono at a high school party.”

Despite the cold Fall air, you felt clammy. Rubbing your sweaty palms over the tops of your thighs, you watched her carefully in your peripheral, “I guess I just didn’t think you’d go to his funeral.”

The car stopped abruptly, your mother taking the stop sign a little too earnestly as the skin stretched over her knuckles as she gripped the steering wheel. Jaw clenched, you watched as the little vein on her right temple pulsed - a warning sign you knew all too well,

“What kind of monster do you think I am? The poor boy drowned, it’s a tragedy. I mean, what would people say if I didn’t go?”

Bingo. There it was.

Your mother sometimes felt like two different people crammed into one body.

The first was the woman your mother wanted to be, the woman she could’ve been, had tragedy not struck your family, causing your father to leave. The woman she would’ve been, if not for your mistakes. The stereotypical PTA Mom who was invited to brunches partook in the school’s bake sales and enjoyed a sneaky cocktail at Roane County’s Country Club as her husband golfed with his work colleagues. She’d wear pretty dresses that weren’t even on the racks at Barney’s yet, flown in from New York, and not a single hair out of place. A woman who cared about what people thought of her.

The other woman was who your mother was forced to be. A woman who had torn apart at the seams after death surrounded her. A woman so full of pain that she allowed her sickness — her addiction — to creep its way into every aspect of her life; sometimes quiet, sometimes loud… but always there. And like most people who suffered with life’s inconsistencies, she clung to it like a lifeline.

Ironically, that lifeline was like an inflatable kayak with a tiny little tear in it. It might seemingly keep her afloat right now, but one sudden move and drowning was inevitable.

You felt a pair of dark eyes on you almost immediately, and despite Pastor Charles’ speech which you were certain was meant to reassure the small crowd, you couldn’t help but feel unsettled as those familiar eyes watched your every move.

You had been surprised to see Lonnie Byers there. Sure, he was the boy’s father, but as Jonathan had stated during one slow shift at the movie theatre, his only claim was biological. A father, but not a Dad. Speaking of the eldest of the Byers’ siblings, he didn’t look too pleased at his father’s visit either.

But those dark eyes continued staring, fluttering between yourself and the coffin that hosted her son. You’d only caught her eye once, brows pulled together in a tight frown as her expression remained choleric, only softening slightly when her gaze settled back towards you as you watched her, hastily turning your attention to the group of whispering boys.

You had often babysat one of the boys — Lucas Sinclair — along with his younger sister, Erica. Why the hell they were gossiping during the funeral of what you assumed was one of their best friends was beyond you. Catching eyes with another of the boys, you sent a dark glare his way, watching as his throat bobbed, head dipping towards his chest as he avoided your annoyed stare.

Your mother sighed once everyone began to break apart, making their way towards the small hall where Will’s wake was being held, “God my feet are killing me. We’ll go give our condolences to Joyce, then let's go find a seat.”

“We’re gonna… you wanna talk to her?”

Rolling her eyes, your mother shifted her weight, feet aching from the heels she hadn’t worn in so long — and was slowly sinking into the hard ground, “I want to tell the woman I’m sorry her child is dead. God, what is wrong with you today?”

‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you…?’ you wanted to respond as you watched her stomp through the small crowd still gathered before quickly rushing to catch up with her.

“Joyce, Lonnie… I’m so sorry about all of this. Will was a sweet boy…”

Joyce’s coffee-colored eyes remained on you, intense and desperate to say something... anything about that evening. She needed to know that you’d seen it too. That you’d heard Will. That despite the body that was now 6ft deep in the soil, Will wasn’t dead. She felt like she was losing her goddamn mind and not one person in town could help her.

Except, maybe, you.

“Can I speak with you? In private?” Joyce’s hushed whisper went under the radar of your mother’s attention, the woman too busy talking up Lonnie to notice your discomfort.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you shook your head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ms. Byers-”

“Please, okay? I know what I saw. What we saw. And you know as well as I do that Will isn’t dead.”

“We just watched his casket get lowered into a hole in the ground-”

“-And that’s not his body in there. That’s not my baby, alright? It isn’t Will.”

Your eyes darted around, taking in the people around you and hoping nobody was paying attention to your conversation, in case they thought you were both mad, “Then who is it? Who the hell is in that coffin?”

“I don’t… I don’t know, okay? But it isn’t Will. You and I both know that-”

“I don’t know anything!”

Your words escaped just a little too loudly, the large, open space of the cemetery only making them echo around. A few people turned to stare, realizing it was only you, and turning away, tutting about disrespectful teenagers and their outbursts, but two pairs of eyes lingered a lot longer.

Nancy and Jonathan stood by the latter’s car, almost identical expressions pulling at their features as they watched you cautiously. Before you could give Jonathan a reason to come over, you returned your attention back to Joyce, only sending Lonnie a quick, forced smile,

“For my own sake, I didn’t see anything, I didn’t hear anything, and I don’t know anything. I’m sorry, Joyce. But I can’t help you.”

Grabbing your mother’s arm, you began to pull her away despite her annoyed stuttering when Joyce’s words forced you to a stop.

“And what about Will? Who’s going to help him?”

Blinking away the tears that were now lining your eyes, threatening to start and maybe never stop, you turned back around, ignoring the groups of people who were suddenly much more interested in your conversation,

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs Byers.”

Picking at the plate of food you’d collected a while back, you couldn’t help but count down the minutes until you could leave. It felt disingenuous being here, especially considering your outburst at Joyce a little while before.

The woman had left you alone, taking the hint that you were not partaking in what seemed to be a one-way ticket to Pennhurst, and your mother had been making her way around the tables, acting as if this was a brunch rather than the funeral of a 12-year-old boy.

Chairs scraped along the floor behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts and flooding you with the incessant chattering of three boys who seemed too enthusiastic to be at their best friend's funeral.

“Well, basically, there are parallel universes. Just like our world, but just infinite variations of it. Which means there’s a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened-”

“Yeah, that’s not what we’re talking about.”

“…Oh.”

“We were thinking of more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of shadows… You know the Vale of Shadows?”

God, they were such nerds.

“If that did exist, a place like the vale of shadows, how would we travel there?”

“Theoretically…”

You heard a quiet rumbling behind you, turning your head slightly to watch as your old science teacher, Mr. Clarke, began to draw on a paper plate, babbling on about a flea and a gymnast, or acrobat or… whatever.

You were trying to follow along, confused as to why the boys were so enthralled by this stupid other-dimension theory.

“Well, is there any way for the acrobat to get to the Upside Down?”

The scoff fell from your lips before your brain had registered that you’d made a sound. Four pairs of eyes fell towards you, a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and recognition between the three boys. Only Mr. Clarke greeted you with a warm smile as if waiting for you to continue.

“And what do you know about other dimensions?” The boy's dark hair matched his equally dark, overly suspicious eyes. Michael Wheeler never was the friendliest of boys when it came to strangers.

“I know I wouldn’t be talking about them at my best friend's funeral, that’s for sure.”

The boy’s nose scrunched up, his eyes regarding you with nothing but distaste, “And what would you want us to do? Argue with Mrs. Byers in the middle of her son's funeral instead?”

Scoffing again, you fully turned in your seat, eyes glaring back, “It wasn’t in the middle of it, and we weren’t arguing.”

The boy watched you, his scowl still fierce on his features, making you feel the undeniable urge to prove him wrong. And maybe shove his face into the depressed, soggy sandwich that sat alone on his plate.

“You’d need to create like... a massive amount of energy — more than humans are even currently capable of creating — to open up some kind of tear in time and space,” leaning between the boys, you took the pen and paper plate from Mr. Clarke’s outstretched hand, folding it in half, before shoving the pen through the middle with what might’ve been a little too much force, “you create a doorway.”

“Like a gate?” The curly-haired boy asked, eyes wide as he continued watching the plate gripped in your hands.

Clicking your fingers in his direction, you nodded, “Like a gate.”

Lucas’ eyebrows rose towards his hairline as he began to nod, and clearly, something was clicking between the group of boys, “How do you even know this?”

“Well, you're not the first of my students to ever win a blue ribbon at a science fair,” Mr. Clarke interrupted, a fond smile on his face as he regarded you.

“But what if this gate already existed?” The scowl now clear from Nancy’s brother's face.

Shrugging your shoulders, you peered towards the teacher, who merely nodded for you to continue,

“I mean… I think we’d know about it if it did.”

“It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, and our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole. Science is neat, but I’m afraid it’s not very forgiving.”

A loud clash caught everyone’s attention, your mother gently being held up by a man in a suit as she ushered him off her, “I’m fine, really. I’m okay. It’s just… It’s just a little hot in here.”

Standing, you pulled your jacket from the back of your chair, a fixed smile pulled at your tight lips as you turned towards Mr. Clarke, “It was nice to see you again, Sir…. Nerds.”

Aiding your mother into the house, you helped her onto the couch as her weak hand fanned her sweaty face lightly,

“I’m fine, I just… I’m not feeling too great.”

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a clean glass from the draining board and filling it with cold tap water. When you returned to your mother, extending the glass out towards her, she batted your hand away as she pulled off her jacket,

“You need to drink something, you’re probably dehydrated-”

“You and I both know that isn’t going to help.”

The apprehensive lump that had been settled on your chest since the moment you’d seen your mother that afternoon, prepped and ready to head out, crawled its way up your throat, making your eyes water slightly, “And we both know drinking isn’t going to help. You’ve done so well today, and it seems like a shame to-”

“You’re not my goddamn mother, alright? I don’t need you to parent me. I just need you to get me a bottle of something, or are you so fucking inept you can’t even handle that?”

You remained steadfast, willing yourself not to cry at her bitter words. You felt stupid. So, god damn stupid. Because this wasn’t the first time, and you had no idea why you continued to believe that maybe it could be the last, “I’m not going to help you drink yourself into an early grave, Mom. I’m not-”

Her sudden sobbing caused a throbbing pain in your chest, your heart feeling like it was being squeezed so tight that blood would certainly gush out, her wailing unrelenting as she led down on the sofa, knees pulled to her chest,

“I am in so much pain. So much. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I just… I just need a little something to take the edge off.”

“I can run out and grab you some Tylenol-”

Shaking her head, you watched as tears flooded her cheeks, barely leaving the previous drop time to fully make it down her face before the next one fell, “It won’t help. There is one thing that will help, and you’re keeping it from me. Please? I promise… I’ll be better. I’ve been so good today you said so yourself. I just need-”

“Fine,” you huffed, finally releasing the breath of air you had been holding, feeling your head burn in an attempt to drown out her sobs, “A sip. But that’s it, alright? Then I’m going to head out and get you some pain relief. You promise, Mom?”

Bending down, you placed her head in your hands, the tear tracks wetting your fingertips as you brushed them away.

“I promise. I promise, baby. Please.”

Squeezing your eyes together so tightly that you saw colorful swirls, you took a deep breath before making your way toward the small cabinet where your mother kept the alcohol. The bottles clanged together, both full and empty, as you searched for something that might have a low alcohol level, but your mother just wasn’t that kind of drinker. Grabbing a small tumbler, you made your way back toward the coffee table, unscrewing the red cap from a bottle of Maker Mark’s, shaking hands pouring barely two fingers worth of bourbon.

“I’m going to get changed, and then I’m gonna run out and get you some Tylenol, alright? Sip this, and stay led down. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Your elbow clipped your door frame as you rushed towards your room, grabbing the first items of clothing you found in your drawers and quickly changing out of your black dress and tights. With one shoe on, you hopped out towards the living room, trying your best to cram your other foot into your other converse, failing miserably as you rushed.

Once your foot finally sunk to the sole of the shoe, you peered into the living room before you could tie your laces, reassuring your mother that you’d be as quick as possible.

But the sight in front of you stopped you dead in your tracks.

The bottle wasn’t the biggest, 750ml at best, but your mother had already downed almost the entire thing in the time you’d been gone. You were so fucking stupid, you thought to yourself, realizing you’d been in such a rush you hadn’t even thought to put the bottle back.

“Mom. Stop.”

Her eyes didn’t open, nor did her actions halt. Instead, the contents in the bottle almost drained, and a small trail of the dark spirit drizzled down her chin.

“Mom,” you all but screamed, only then causing her to drop the bottle, the last of the contents spilling over her black dress and leaving what would ultimately be another stain on the carpet.

Eyes widened and a little dazed, your mother grabbed the bottle, brows pulling together when she inspected the now empty bottle before her attention settled back on you.

If looks could kill.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“You said a sip. That was it-”

“No, you said a sip. Not me.”

Your chin wobbled as you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, praying you wouldn’t cry. Tears really never were your mother’s weakness, nor was your begging.

“You promised. You promised me-”

“So I like a little drink from time to time, sue me. God, you act like it’s such a goddamn crime. Everyone drinks, sweetheart. It’s the God damn United States of America, and we have rights and freedom and-”

Ignoring her, you made your way to the kitchen to grab some paper towels, a futile attempt to clear up the stain that was already forming on the carpet, causing the whole living room to stink. Her drunken spiels were never very coherent, anyway. Sometimes, it was better to just let her tire herself out.

“You listenin’ to me?” Her words were becoming more and more slurred as she waved the empty bottle around, watching as you sat on your knees, dabbing the paper towel over the wet patch with as much force as the flimsy thing would allow.

Instead of answering, you continued in vain to clean up your mother's mess, a tale as old as time by now. Grabbing at your arm, she pulled you up to your feet as you struggled to ease your arm from her grip without hurting her. Annoyed with your flailing arms, she shoved you — hard — backward, causing you to lose your footing and trip over the old coffee table behind you. The glass of water — as well as the tumbler — smashed on the floor underneath the palm of your hand.

Scrambling, you forced yourself to your feet, hand pressed close to your chest as your red-rimmed eyes narrowed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hands shaking, you didn’t want to inspect the cuts, knowing that once you acknowledged you were hurt, the pain would seriously kick in. Instead, you leaned against the wall, watching as your mother went to take another mouthful of the honey-colored whiskey, forgetting that she’d already finished it.

“What is so fucking wrong with your life that your only answers are at the bottle of a goddamn bottle?” It had been a long time since you'd lost your cool with your mother, and there had most definitely been reasoning behind it.

Her eyes narrowed at you, her voice thick with anger, “You of all people know what happened-”

“Yes, okay? I get it, Mom. You lost a child, but-”

“You’re the reason everything happened! If it wasn’t for you-”

You knew she was ill, a sickness she couldn’t help but entertain. But what was so special about whatever she was drinking that it was infinitely more important than her daughter? More important than you?

“You’re impossible. No wonder Dad left-”

The words were barely out of your mouth when another loud shatter silenced the whole house. For a moment, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing, your heart pounding in your ears like it was ready to force its way through your rib cage in the hopes of saving itself.

Your hand moved up, flinching as it connected with a small shard of glass that had embedded into the top of your cheekbone. Pulling it out, you felt the warm, sickly blood trickle down your face without care or caution.

Eyes that resembled your own peered back at you, the fire in them suddenly dampened out with the realization of what she’d done.

Hot tears mixed with the rouge liquid, causing it to pool down your face quicker. Ignoring it the best you could, you pushed yourself away from the wall, ready to make your exit. Your mother remained silent as your hand grazed the door handle, a thickness crawling up your throat and threatening to unravel you from the inside out.

“You might’ve lost a child, but you still have one. You still have me. Why am I not enough?” You asked rhetorically, refusing to acknowledge the crack in your voice, or the slight sob you heard after slamming the door.

Grabbing your bike from the front yard, you pushed forward, uncaring of where you were going, so long as it was far away from here.

The wind whipped at your face, ice-cold and painful against your cheeks, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Despite Hopper’s previous warning about your delinquent bike-riding habits, you cycled faster and faster, hoping to force the memories from the last week out of your head.

You could hear honking from behind you as you zoomed toward Radio Shack, knowing damn well you didn’t have a dollar in your pocket, and despite your need for silence you knew Bob, the manager, would happily talk your ear off for the next half hour about the new records they got in, regardless whether you asked for his help or not. He was a nice enough guy, with great music taste, but he also had an unnerving instinct of knowing when something was wrong and unwavering need to fix it.

Waving your arm backward, hoping to shoo the driver off, you felt your blood boiling as the honks became more consistent, a loud voice shouting out to you. Deciding that being nice wasn’t going to cut it, you stuck your arm up high, middle finger raised towards the driver behind.

The honking ceased — thankfully — but was soon replaced with something much, much worse.

Whoop, whoop

Pulling your hand down quickly, you grabbed at your handlebars in an attempt to steady the bike, not wanting to go under the car behind. Once you were out of danger from falling off and breaking a few limbs, you stopped completely, chest heaving as you heard the door open and shut, surprised that it wasn’t slammed.

“Kid, seriously. If I have to tell you one more time-”

Hopper’s voice faded out as he took one look at your face. The constant stream of tears had only aided the red stain that trickled down your cheek despite your attempt to rub it away.

“Everything alright?”

Blinking away the tears you could, you forced your lips into a tight line before sending the man a short nod, eyes still focused in front of you despite the aching in your cut hand.

“Listen, kiddo… If-”

“I’m fine, Hop. Really.”

He wanted to argue, to shout at you as he dragged you into his sheriff’s truck, but he knew damn well how that would end, and it wouldn’t be in either of your favor. So instead, he kept his voice low before taking off his hat,

“They found Barb Holland’s car.”

That caught your attention.

Turning towards him, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “It wasn’t exactly hard. It’s been sat out on the road by the pumpkin patch since the party-”

And that caught his attention.

“Wait, what do you mean? O’Bannon said they found it last night abandoned at a bus station-”

“Yeah well, O’Bannon’s a dirty liar, because Nancy and I saw it on Wednesday in the exact same parking space as it was when she drove us to Harrington’s house the night before.” You sighed, allowing your eyes to roam over Hopper’s, finally taking in how disheveled he looked, “Who is O’Bannon?”

You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed, his dark blue eyes watching you intently as if looking for any ounce of deceit, “He’s a State Trooper. Same guys who found Will’s body in the quarry.”

It was clear to tell his mind — that when sober, was actually quite brilliant — was rapidly going through different scenarios, none of which you were partial to.

“Well, they just keep popping up everywhere, don’t they? Might wanna be careful, Hop, seems like they’re after your job. But seriously… Barb’s car wasn’t missing. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Placing his hat back onto his head, he sent you a firm nod before making his way back to his patrol car, “Buy a damn helmet for that thing, at least.”

Although you did feel a little calmer than earlier, something about Hopper’s demeanor earlier had put you on edge for a totally different reason. Something was going on, and from what you could guess, Hopper had concluded that it involved Will, Barbara, and possibly the state police.

Subconsciously, you’d cut through the woods in your attempt to hurry home, not even thinking about the dangers that seemed to lurk there. Whatever was happening must’ve been some fucked up government plan that had gone awry and not whatever it was you thought you’d seen.

Riding through the trees probably wasn’t your smartest decision, your tires bumping over the large tree vines, brambles catching up in them as you kicked up dirt and leaves. But it felt good to be out in the fresh air, away from your mother and the looming anxiety that clouded you whenever you were in her presence.

Seeing the trail path ahead, you were suddenly blinded by a flash of light, a loud scream falling from your lips as you skidded to a stop.

A gun was pointing at you in a shaky grip, another smaller hand holding up a bat, ready to swing at any moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Nancy asked, her torch moving back down towards the floor.

“Me? What the hell are you guys doing here? With weapons?” Looking toward Jonathan, you sent him a sharp glare, “I can’t afford any medical bills right now, so if you could please lower that thing-”

“Did you hit a deer?”

Narrowing your eyes, you watched Nancy for a moment before finally responding, “Did I… Do you really think this piece of junk would be in one piece if I had? No, I did not hit a deer, but I nearly ran over you. What the hell are you guys doing out here so late?”

The two shared a look of uncertainty, doubt clear enough on their faces that it may as well have been written on their foreheads. Jonathan was the first to speak.

“Today, at the funeral… What were you and my Mom arguing about?”

Placing your bike on the ground, you sent him your own guilt-ridden look, eyes darting to Nancy as if she could help you at all. “We weren’t arguing, we just…”

“Just what?”

“Your Mom thought she saw something… thought we saw something the night Will’s body was found.”

“The lights?”

Shaking your head, you rubbed your cold hands together, wincing at the pain from your palm, thankful that the bleeding had stopped by now, “The…you know about that? Of course, you knew about that, it’s your mother. Listen, she was showing me the lights, and she thought she could hear Will, that he was talking to her. And then, he told us to run.”

“Run? From what?”

Running a hand over your forehead, you tried to collect your thoughts. So far, at least, neither of them had called you crazy.

“This… I don’t know. Monster. It didn’t have a face but its claws…”

“The same thing in the photo of Barb. Whatever it was, it was in the woods when we went to look for her. That’s why I ran out. Whatever that thing is… It got Will, and maybe it got Barb, too.”

“So you saw this thing…You heard Will, and you didn’t think to tell me?” Jonathan’s voice was strained as his dark eyes peered at you with betrayal.

Huffing a forced laugh, you could only stare back, “Would you have believed me if I did?”

Sighing, the boy shook his head, “Look, we need to get going. I don’t know how long the batteries in this flashlight have left.”

“We’re looking for whatever took Will,” Nancy clarified when she saw your perplexed expression, “We’re gonna kill it.”

She said the words with such assurance that you were almost convinced Nancy would actually maim this thing if given the proper chance. The only issue was you were three teenagers, and all you had between yourselves was a gun and a wooden bat. The odds were most definitely not in your favor, and even you wouldn’t have bet on your success.

“So, what’s this about a deer?” You questioned, making your involvement obvious as you began to walk with them, leaving your bike where you’d dropped it.

You followed Nancy dutifully as she searched around the trees, kicking bits of dirt up as she went, never once asking what she was actually looking for. If they were looking for that monster, you really, really hoped they would come away empty-handed.

“So, I take it you forgave him for the whole photo thing?”

Nancy sent a sideward glance in your direction, uncaring for the lecture she presumed she was about to receive, “How’d you get that cut on your face?”

“Touche,” you huffed a small laugh, the tip of your shoe toeing at the fallen leaves.

It took only a few seconds, but the silence between you both felt like it dragged on, “He apologized. Explained everything. That’s all that matters.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, holding the flashlight for her as she checked another tree, her eyebrows pulling together slightly as she watched you carefully. “Seriously, It’s whatever. It isn’t my apology to accept or deny. But I’d like to think that after knowing Jonathan for a while, he wouldn’t have done something like that for anything seedy or malicious. I just… I don’t think he has that in him.”

“Me neither. He seems like a pretty decent guy, even if he can be a total douchebag,” when Nancy caught your look, she explained, “We had an argument earlier and… Neither of us was particularly nice to the other.”

“Well, it’d be a little weird if you were fighting with compliments. But I’m sure it just got heated. He’s been super stressed with this whole Will thing, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you.”

When Nancy didn’t respond, you turned around, flashing the light at the back of her head, “What’s wrong? What have you found?"

“It’s a hole in the trunk.”

Taking off her backpack and placing the bat on the floor, Nancy took the flashlight from you as she began to crawl into the tree, confused by how far she was able to go.

Calling her name a few times in the hope she’d reverse right back out of there, you squeezed your eyes shut, cursing yourself before following her in.

The first thing you noticed was how thick the air felt. Stagnant and dry, and a little too cold. There were no sounds, no birds singing their nightly songs, no owls hooting, and no deer rustling the leaves around.

Nothing but total, absolute silence.

Exchanging a look, you warily continued onward, careful not to make any loud noises. You knew what silence in the woods meant.

A predator.

A loud noise made the both of you leap, turning your heads in rapid succession when you finally saw it. Leaning over something on the ground, you could hear its teeth ripping at skin, tearing it from the limbs as it continued to fill its stomach.

Nancy’s flashlight blinked, lighting the monster in an eerie cast of shadows as it continued to maul at whatever it had found.

Hands clasping at each other, you began your stealthy walk backward, eyes never leaving the monster for even a second, which unfortunately meant you didn’t see the large branch behind you, Nancy’s shoe causing it to snap in half.

Its head whipped around, mouth wide open to show off its many teeth as the monster released a thundering roar, suddenly less interested in its former hunt.

Nancy dropped the flashlight as her other hand grabbed your jacket, a scream for Jonathan slipping through her lips before she really even noticed. Bending down quickly and grabbing the light, you allowed Nancy to pull you backward as you fumbled to turn it off.

The two of you ran the short distance, slipping between the trees as the monster continued to release horrific sounds, chasing you like a predator playing with its prey.

Jonathan’s voice echoed through the trees, but something was wrong. Your gut told you that you weren’t going to find the boy here, no matter how far you ran. Grabbing the girl’s arm, you tugged her behind a tree, chests heaving as you tried to catch your breaths,

“We need to find that tree trunk. I don’t think this is…. I don’t think this is our woods.”

Nancy’s eyes widened, but she simply nodded. The creature released another roar — one that seemed all too close as it vibrated through you — causing you both to rush forward, unsure if you were even headed in the right direction, both hiding behind separate trees.

Looking around, you caught Nancy trying to get your attention, the girl nodding towards the tree you must’ve climbed in through, the inside pulsating with a golden glow, and Jonathan’s voice much louder than before as he desperately called your names.

You could hear the monster stomping around, not too far from the tree itself, and it dawned on you that there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d both make it through in time. Your eyes began to roam the surrounding area before falling back to the creature who seemed to be sniffing at the air… Or at least, the most it could without an actual face.

If it didn’t have a face, you could only hope it didn’t have eyes. Which hopefully meant you could lead it away from the tree, allowing one of you to get out before the other did their best to outrun it.

And despite not being involved in any school sports, your sprint timing wasn’t too shabby.

As your eyes connected to Nancy’s once more, her eyebrows dipped almost as if she could read your mind. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you mouthed,

“I’ll distract it, then you go, understood?”

Nancy’s head shook, eyes wide, and face pinched as she refused to leave you behind. She’d already done that to Barb, and look what had happened there. She wasn’t doing it again. She couldn’t.

“Nancy, please,” you strained your voice, barely above a whisper, “I’ll be right out after. I’m just giving you a head start.”

Without giving the girl a second to argue, you crept around the back of the tree, careful to not upset the branches as you passed, eyes darting between the monster and Nancy. When you finally got far enough away to be sure that you’d give Nancy enough time to crawl through unnoticed, you took a deep breath, poking your head out just a fraction,

“Hey asshole, I’m over here!”

Furious, the creature released a deep, guttural roar, the sound causing goosebumps to break out all over your body as you tried to convince your body to enter flight mode rather than your usual freeze.

You could hear its pounding footsteps as it hit out at trees that lay in its way, but your eyes remained on Nancy as she crawled back through the hole. Realizing you definitely wouldn’t make it if you took any longer, you ducked around a tree, dashing back towards the trunk as the monster slid to a stop, its head whipping around towards your new direction.

Skidding to your knees, you desperately crawled forward, hearing the monster approach at an alarming rate. You turned to peer over your shoulder, breath catching in your chest as you realized how close it was. A few more seconds and you’d be it’s dinner. You could hear both Nancy and Jonathan calling for you, so close, yet so far away as you turned on your knees slightly, raising your arm behind your head before throwing the heavy torch with everything you could.

It bounced off the monster’s head, causing it to skid to a stop, confused about what had happened as it shook its head like a dog. The sound of the flashlight clattering to the ground a few feet away was enough of a distraction that you were able to force your way back through the hole, certain it had shrunk upon your entrance, as the monster chased after the light.

Two pairs of arms pulled you out, and as soon as you were released from the tree trunk, Nancy grabbed you, bound to leave fingerprint-sized bruises on your arms in the morning.

“Don’t ever do that again!” she cried, “I thought you were… I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Jonathan remained silent, watching as you held each other, limbs shaking like jello. Once you had caught your breath, relieved to finally take a breath of fresh air, you turned to the girl, grimacing as you wiped some of the slime from your body, “I’m sorry. But we… We wouldn’t have both got out in time. It was too close.”

“How the hell did you get out?” Jonathan asked, his eyes wide with confusion.

Turning to Nancy as she wiped a bit of goo from your forehead, you mumbled, “Just… Tell your Dad I owe him a new flashlight.”

[haveyoureadthishorrorbookpoll]

Have you read...

note: If you did not finish but feel you read enough to form an opinion, you may choose a ‘Yes’ option instead of 'Partly' (e.g., Yes, I didn’t like it). Interpret "neutral or complicated" however you like, I intended this category to be a broad option between like and dislike.

To serial slayer Andrew Compton, murder is an art, the most intimate art. After feigning his own death to escape from prison, Compton makes his way to the United States with the sole ambition of bringing his "art" to new heights. Tortured by his own perverse desires, and drawn to possess and destroy young boys, Compton inadvertently joins forces with Jay Byrne, a dissolute playboy who has pushed his "art" to limits even Compton hadn't previously imagined. Together, Compton and Byrne set their sights on an exquisite young Vietnamese-American runaway, Tran, whom they deem to be the perfect victim. Swiftly moving from the grimy streets of London's Piccadilly Circus to the decadence of the New Orleans French Quarter, and punctuated by rants from radio talk show host Lush Rimbaud, a.k.a. Luke Ransom, Tran's ex-lover, who is dying of AIDS and who intends to wreak ultimate havoc before leaving this world, Exquisite Corpse unfolds into a labyrinth of murder and love. Ultimately all four characters converge on a singular bloody night after which their lives will be irrevocably changed — or terminated. Poppy Z. Brite dissects the landscape of torture and invites us into the mind of a killer. Exquisite Corpse confirms Brite as a writer who defies categorization. It is a novel for those who dare trespass where the sacred and profane become one.

submit a horror book!

[theoddcatlady]

Instructions on How to Become a Clown

Found this journal in an old storage locker I had taken possession of. It’s dated in the summer of 1985, and the pages are curled, smelling faintly of popcorn. As for the contents… well, go ahead and start reading.

June 1

Infiltrating Funtasia’s Dreamscape Circus was easier than I thought it was going to be. All I did was walk up to the ringmaster and he called me Petey, scolded me for showing up a day late, handed me a uniform, and told me to start mucking the animal cages. Whoever this Petey was, I’ll apologize at a later time for taking his job. I can just say I was confused since my real name is close enough to ‘Petey’.

This has to be where Janice Meyers ended up. The circus was in town the weekend she disappeared, and the friend of hers I interviewed said she had decided to go back on Saturday night. Her parents did admit there was an argument that night about their daughter’s grades, but insisted that Janice would never have run away of her own free will. But then again, fifteen year olds aren’t known for their soundest decisions.

Most circuses that have fallen into my line of investigation are closed communities- any outside questioning is shut off. I’ll have to spend a few days assuring these people I’m just like any of them. I just have to last long enough to determine if any of these people are Janice.

June 5

This is the easiest investigation I’ve ever had to conduct. Not only have the circus people been more than welcoming, I think I’ve figured out which one of the clowns is Janice.

Running away with the circus was a childhood dream of mine, and it seems she’s one of the people who pursued that dream. She says her name is Jenny, but her face shape is similar enough to to Janice’s. I just need to catch her out of make up- she goes everywhere with her face painted white and red hearts painted on her cheeks, so I’ve been yet to see if she has that beauty mark on her cheek. I’d like to catch her alone too, but she always hangs out with the fellow teenagers. It even appears she has a boyfriend, one of the acrobats named James.

What happened seemed straightforward at least. Girl falls in love with a boy, runs off to be with him, it’s the oldest story in the book. Once I confirm her identity, I’ll let her parents know posthaste. After, of course, I find the nearest police station and let them know that one of the clowns is a runaway girl.

June 8

Today was the first performance I was lucky enough to catch. This may be the most fun job I’ve taken in a long time. Most of the time, being a private investigator means I’m following unfaithful spouses or checking to see if someone’s scamming their insurance. Those drain at your sanity after a few years.

Today the ringmaster, Jacob Tanner, pulled me aside and told me to take a seat with the rest of the guests. I’ve worked hard, I deserve a breather.

The performances here are fantastic. The clowns are hilarious, the acrobats are graceful, and the animals are as gentle as your average pet dog or cat. Thanks to working here, I get free snacks too. I don’t know how it’s special, but the pink lemonade here is to die for. I’d drink it all day if my stomach wouldn’t explode.

Everything went off without a hitch, we’ll be on the road in the morning. I imagine I’ll confirm if Janice is Jenny for once and for all now that she’ll no doubt be out of costume. Such a shame too. I think she’s really enjoying her time here. But she is a child, and she needs to go back home.

June 15

Janice is Jenny. I caught her out of make up before she went on for her act, and she has the beauty mark. But there’s something stopping me from letting the police know.

There was an accident that happened tonight.

The act unfolded as normal, least I figure as much. A strongman named Louis Wicker was the base of a stack of clowns, at the top was young Janice. Five people stacked on one another, it was an unbelievable sight.

So unbelievable that it felt like a dream when Louis stumbled and the clown on his shoulders lost his balance. They all came crashing down like bowling pins. It certainly was not part of the act, judging by Janice’s terrified scream as she plummeted to the ground. I heard something crack and her body went limp.

A comical looking mini ambulance was driven out by more clowns as the ringmaster assured us all that everything was fine. The fake clown doctors tossed the clowns that were knocked unconscious by the fall into the ambulance with as much care as you’d throw a bag of flour. The conscious clowns and Louis were escorted off to the side.

I’ve tried to find the injured clowns after the performance, but they’re gone. I don’t know where they’re being kept. After a fall like that the extent of their injuries must be horrific. Tomorrow I’m going to the police to report this incident, as I didn’t see any real ambulances or any sign they were taken to a proper hospital. And without a doubt, Janice needs emergency care.

June 16

Now I’m just confused.

Janice is fine. Somehow completely, totally fine, as are the rest of the clowns and Louis. I saw her this morning at breakfast, just as energetic and happy as ever. She and James were sharing a plate of muffins and a bag of cotton candy… yes, for breakfast. Teenagers, what can you do. I’m not any better, I’m having pink lemonade with every meal, between them too. I may have to ask for the recipe, it’s genuinely the best lemonade I’ve ever had.

I did manage to question Janice about the fall and she brushed it off, saying that the clowns here have taken worse falls and bounced back even quicker. She mostly felt bad for Louis, she confided, as he blamed himself.

Something’s not right here. I’m going to stick around for a bit longer, as Janice is in perfectly good health and in no immediate danger. James seems like a solid boy, as does the other friends she’s picked up while she’s been here. We’re pulling into another town tonight.

June 18

We’re leaving tonight. We’re not spending the whole week here.

I’ve gotten quite used to the schedule already, especially because my job’s quite easy now that my muscles have adapted to the labor. So last night when I was roused and ordered to get the animals ready for travel, I was more than a little confused.

I managed to hitch a ride with James, Janice, and a juggler named Charlie. I grabbed a seat in front seat of the cab of their truck with Janice and Charlie. James was in the backseat with a girl I’d never seen before.

Teenager, not much older than Janice, with a blanket over her shoulders and face puffy and red with tears. I think she’s another runaway. James was very gentle with her, giving her water and pink lemonade to drink while stroking her hair. I’ve never met such a sensitive teenage boy, I can see why Janice is so taken with him.

Speaking of which- she’s not exactly happy with this new development. Ah, young love, truly so fickle. This might work out though, if Janice just wants to leave, then I’ll simply reveal my identity and take her home to her parents. It’s not like they can hold us here.

June 19

The kids spent their time coming up with a new name for the girl in the truck. Whatever her name was previously, she doesn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I don’t know much about her backstory, only that she was in a bad place and needed to get out.

After many ideas and more than a little bickering, James suggested the name Dixie, and that’s the name she’s going with. I think it’s rather cute, and it certainly suits her. Janice is managing to be polite, but I can already tell she’s seething with jealousy.

Something about that performance gone wrong is still nagging at me, and there is the fact that Dixie is likely another runaway child. But unlike Janice, I don’t think Dixie has a good home to return to, with parents that worry about her safety. She’s tense, flinches at loud voices and is constantly apologizing for just taking up space.

You won’t find me reporting her. That’s not my concern. My concern is Janice and no one else.

June 22

Last night’s show went well, Dixie’s yet to perform but according to James she’s currently training. Janice is sulky but refuses to tell James what’s on her mind, at least as far as I know. I think my plan of just waiting it out is actually going to pay off.

But then again, maybe I should spend more time second guessing my judgment.

It was after the show, I was heading back to the truck when I heard what I knew could only be one thing- drunk show goers. This wouldn’t be such a problem, except I was taking a shortcut through where the animals were kept after the show.

I made haste to the source and sure enough, these three idiots were sticking their hands in the cage, just for moments at a time to taunt the tigress that was in there. Obviously Lovely Belle, or just ‘Belle’ for short, was less than impressed.

I broke into a run when I saw that one of the idiots actually managed to get the cage door to unlock. It swung open and Belle trotted out, her ears pressed flat against her head as she growled. I expected one of the idiots to become mincemeat as I saw her raise her paw.

Only Charlie seemingly appeared out of nowhere and body slammed her target out of the way, saving him from his deserved fate of being a cat toy. The tiger raked its claws down Charlie’s back and he screeched before he tumbled to the ground, huddling into a little ball.

His yellow clown suit was soaked in blood by the time I got there. The idiots bolted, screaming their heads off, while Belle flopped down on the ground and licked clean her claws. In the dark it was nearly impossible to see how bad the wounds were, and before I could get him into the light the fellow circus people flooded around Charlie. Someone threw a blanket on him and the Wicker Brothers gathered him up and carried him into a trailer. Of course I told someone to call an ambulance, and I was assured that he’d be given proper medical care.

This morning though, Charlie’s back to… well, being Charlie. Little bastard put a tack on my seat and I didn’t notice it until I’d sat my full weight on it. He’s acting like nothing happened last night and assured me that it looked far worse than it was. He even demonstrated by taking off his shirt and gesturing to his back, which had only a few bandages on it- nothing like what you’d need if you were attacked by a tiger.

I keep telling myself that I really must have overreacted last night, that my brain is exaggerating the details. But as many times as I run the incident over and over again in my head… the more I’m certain that there’s no way in hell that Charlie should be okay right now.

June 25

Well, it finally happened. I’m taking Janice home.

I was talking with the clearly sullen girl, being as subtle as I could about her going home, when Dixie emerged from a tent. I’d not seen her since she was given her new name, I was starting to wonder where the girl had gotten off to, and here she was. She had pinned her hair up into twin pigtails and although her clown make up made her look like she was crying, she was clearly grinning from ear to ear. Dixie had become a clown, and I think that is the life that will suit her the best.

Charlie gaped like a fish and even James seemed taken off guard. “Already?” he croaked out, staring at the girl.

Dixie nodded and spun around. “I’m one of the clowns! Put away your frowns! I’ve taken them all, no more will I fall, for I am a clown!” she said before cartwheeling over to the table and using the flower pinned to her sweater to squirt me in the face with what smelled like really strong rose perfume.

Charlie clapped while James sprung to his feet, picking Dixie up and spinning her around and around. It might have gone a little over my head, but the three seemed really happy… until Janice slammed her fist into the table.

The girl had gone red with rage, getting to her feet and screaming, “Liar! Liar! It takes weeks to become a clown! You’re a fraud! A fake! A phony! Everything about you, from your name to… to you, is so disgusting and fake!”

It was so awkward. I desperately tried not to cringe, but I don’t think I quite managed. Dixie was surprised for a moment, before her bottom lip trembled. Now those tears going down her cheeks were real as she began to sob. Charlie got up to try to comfort her but she took off, running right back into the tent she had been training in.

James watched Dixie go before turning to Janice. To his credit, he seemed mostly calm, but his fists were balled up so tightly I was afraid I’d have to get between the lovebirds to prevent a brawl. He just gestured her to follow him and the pair went off.

I did my best to attempt to listen in on the argument, but I only got bits and pieces- enough to know that James called Janice for being way out of line and that although he really cared about her, he wasn’t really feeling the spark anymore. Janice accused him of leading her on and called Dixie a lot of names I won’t be writing down, as I don’t care for putting those kinds of words to paper, and she was the one that ended up trying to knock James’ block off. That’s when I intervened and separated the fighting teenagers.

While James blew off some steam with the knife throwers, I laid my cards on the table- I told Janice everything, that her parents sent me to find her, that they were really worried, and that it was time for her to come home. Maybe it’s a bit low to spring this offer on her when she was so emotionally raw, but it was my chance. And it worked.

We’ll be leaving Saturday night. One more performance, and then we’ll go when everyone’s packing up to go. I will miss my time at the circus. But I’m glad I’m going home.

June 30?

Everything’s fucked.

I don’t know what went wrong. Let me start from the beginning. Just in case I don’t make it out of here. Or maybe if I do. I’m so fucked.

Leaving went off without a hitch. Janice left a note for James, telling him goodbye and good luck with Dixie, and we took off in my car. No one even noticed we left, at least at the time. I wish someone did, someone stopped us before we went too far.

The drive was smooth, Janice badmouthed Dixie which I mostly ignored, I was already mentally making plans for how I was going to relax in the upcoming weeks… and then the cramps started.

It was just small twinges in my stomach at first. I figured my circus diet was finally catching up with me. I may have been in the best shape of my life, but you can only eat corndogs and circus peanuts for so long before something gives.

Janice rubbed her neck, muttering about being sore. The last thing I said was that I was pretty sure that the ibuprofen was in the glovebox when my gut erupted in pain. I nearly doubled over, going stiff as I wrapped a hand around my middle. I couldn’t speak, the pain was so bad. I tried to tell Janice that I needed to pull over because I was going to be sick, but the moment I opened my mouth all I could do was scream.

I looked up to see Janice’s face had gone white. Blood first only dripped from her nose, then it began to pour, spouting red all over the front of her shirt and the dashboard. I heard a snap, a crackle, and Janice’s arm was bent in three different ways, white shards of bone stabbing out of her skin.

I jerked the steering wheel and we went into the ditch, I banged my head off the dash but at least we had stopped. I bit my tongue and tried to unbuckle myself but the damn buckle locked, so I was just struggling uselessly while Janice’s body continued to break.

She cried, slumping against the car door as I heard more snaps and pops. Her leg twisted the wrong way around. The way she’d flinch made me think of when I saw someone trying to nurse broken ribs. Any twitch or movement looked agonizing.

Janice looked at me once last time.

“Help me-”

Her neck abruptly snapped to the side, her eyes rolled back, and just like that Janice Meyers was dead.

I finally got loose from the goddamn seatbuckle and threw open the car door, stumbling out as it felt like something was trying to rip its way out of my gut. I collapsed on my hands and knees, the world spinning around me before I heard an audible gurgle from my stomach.

I vomited all over the ground beneath me before I collapsed. The world spun circles around me, round and round like a carousel, and all I could really remember before it all went black was that my vomit was bright pink and smelled of lemonade.

I woke up here. I don’t know where I am. The cement walls hang with circus posters from years past, stretching back to the 1920’s.The lights are sometimes on. They’re usually off. I’m hurrying my writing because I don’t know when they’ll turn off again. Curtains hang from the ceiling, dirty, old, and I swear they change positions whenever the lights come back on. I don’t know. I can’t be sure.

They beat me. Charlie, James. For being teenagers they’re much stronger than they look. James was the instigator, Charlie mostly just shoved me back whenever I tried to make for the door. I think James was supposed to use this paddle the entire time, but he dropped it in favor of his fists, and he didn’t hold back. The lights went on and off, on and off, I must have lost unconsciousness by the time they left. I can’t find the door anymore. I don’t know if it was even there to begin with.

What did I get into

why is Janice dead

what have I done

. . .

I can’t tell if it’s night or day. I found the door again, it was just hiding behind the blue curtain. It’s locked, and I can’t make it budge when I throw myself against it, it must be locked from the outside. I need to conserve my strength.

There’s no food offered. Just fucking. Bottles of pink lemonade lined by the door. They’re mocking me. I’m not going to drink it. It might be poisoned anyway.

I have to get out of here and I can’t brute force it. I have to wait until the door opens again.

. . .

Throat’s so dry. No one’s come through the door.

They’ve left me to die down here haven’t they? Because of the car accident. That’s had to be what happened. A body doesn’t crumple. I must have swerved to avoid something and crashed the car. I’m sorry James. If you read this after I die I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt Janice. I swear. You may have not been in love with Janice but I know she meant a lot to you. I’m sorry to you too Charlie.

Please let me out of here.

. . .

The lemonade’s so refreshing. I had to drink it. It’s so hot in here. There’s no ventilation. I need to keep writing. I don’t know why they didn’t take my journal but it might be my only way to stay sane.

I can’t remember the accident still. I can’t tell if there was one or if really something else did happen in that car. All I recall is Janice’s body looking like a trainwreck.

They have to come in sooner or later. That’s when I can escape.

. . .

No escape. They made the door go away again.

It was James. And Jacob Tanner. And someone else. A magician, maybe? The door disappeared, they were there, and they began my training.

Jacob said they need someone to take Janice’s place. They’re down a clown now, and since it was my fault because I took her too far from the circus, they want me to become a clown.

No shit I told them no. I’m not going to be a fucking clown. I’m a detective. I told them that. Which in response James put a stupid hat on my head and declared me a clown detective before laughing like he told the best joke in the world.

This ‘training’ is just an excuse to torture me. They hand me balls to juggle, whenever I refuse to juggle or dropped them I’d get cuffed in the back of the head or whacked with a paddle. The last time I dropped to the ground I closed my eyes for just a second before I woke back up and everyone was gone.

I keep checking behind every curtain. I can’t find the door. All four walls are blank. I don’t know how but they made the door go away.

They left me a bag of popcorn too. It’s stale as fuck but I needed to eat something.

. . .

I keep begging for their forgiveness. I’ve stopped fighting back. I just want to go home. I won’t tell a soul. No one would believe me anyway.

They just hand me a knife and tell me if I don’t hit the bullseye this time they’re going to break my fingers.

. . .

Am I really alone in here?

Sometimes I think the curtains are hiding someone. I keep sweeping them out of the way, but there’s no one there when I do it. Maybe it’s like the door that keeps disappearing.

When I’m trained, I see them talk to this person sometimes. They turn their head and ask something, I can’t ever really hear it, but they call this person the ringmaster… even Jacob calls him the Ringmaster. I flipped back to check my memory, James is the ringmaster… or maybe he isn’t?

I don’t know anymore. My brain is swimming. They keep calling me Petey. My name is Paul. I’m Paul. Not… not Petey.

Or maybe not Paul anymore. Maybe not.

. . .

The Ringmaster has always been here. Behind the only curtain that’s never torn, she’s watching me. I can’t see her except for her silhouette, where she lounges to overlook my training. I’m too scared to move it, now that I see this room for what it really is.

I’m in a tent. I’m in a circus tent, and my face is smeared with white paint that I don’t think I put on. I’m not sure. I didn’t put in my journal that I put it on. I definitely didn’t keep this stupid detective hat on.

I’m now back in the cement room, but it only looks like that. I know the truth.

I need to pull back her curtain.

. . .

Dixie came to visit me.

She’s such a sweet girl. She yelled at James and told him to be nice to me. She cradled my head and soothed me while I cried in her arms. I told her I wanted to go home, that my name isn’t Petey and it won’t be Petey, and that I won’t be a clown detective.

She told me a story of a girl who no one loved. That no one saw as a girl, but as a thing. An embarrassment, an inconvenience. And how she had climbed to the tippy top of a tall building, all to end her life when she saw the circus lights. She figured, why not spend the last few hours she had on earth at a place that was truly happy?

She told me… that the circus wanted her, and it wants me too. It’s always wanted me. It’s why it let me in. Nothing was accidental.

Dixie left me with a cup of pink lemonade and a spam sandwich with the crusts cut off. The nostalgic taste made me cry.

The curtain needs to go. I need to know why the circus wants me.

Please tell me why I have to stay.

. . .

ha ha

ha ha

well the time has come

to go where the air smells like popcorn and bubblegum

where the tents reach the sky

and we no longer need to cry

this is how I have become a clown

this is how you become a clown

come to the circus that’s here in town

when all you’ve known has burned down

there you will meet an Acrobat, a Juggler, and a Crying Girl

they’ll help you give it a whirl

you’ll be given pink lemonade and all sorts of delights

you’ll begin your training that very night

be sure not to sob when it hurts

you’re just getting your just desserts

to be a clown is to be forever

as long as the circus endeavors

pull back the curtain and meet the Ringmaster

A beauty with skin of alabaster

with cheeks redder than apples candied

she smiles at you and offers you a glass, brandied

you take it, you don’t say no to a woman like that

once you sip, she will give your head a pat

“You’re alone in the world, aren’t you?”

She’ll say, knowing that it’s true

you’ll nod, you don’t attempt to deny

that all this time you’ve just stood by

this world has not been kind

to those who don’t fit into average humankind

“You’ve always been one of us,” she told me

“That girl who died was too carefree,

She never understood what it meant to be a clown

how you should build up, not cut down

that in this circus you’ll never feel harm

that here, you’re always meant to charm

but once you leave, you will be pained

from that, you cannot be unchained

sad that Janice had to die

but come now, you have had your cry

it’s time for you to smile

you have finally passed your trial!

It’s time to become a clown

to your knees and bow down

you are now one of mine

in fact, you have become one of my bloodline!”

I knelt before my Ringmaster, taking her hand

this circus is a family that will never disband

and just like that I’ve become a clown

never again to frown

I hope that you’ll see these tents one day

and come on through the doorway

if you want to become a clown, here’s a tip

get some pink lemonade, have a sip

run away with the circus

and like that, you’ll be one of us!

Ha ha

ha ha

never again to frown

I have become a clown

ha ha ha

ha hah ha hahaha

hahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaa

[pekejscatbed]

Runaway and Circus Boy masterlist

batman masterlist

—> synopsis

Bruce Wayne. The name sounds familiar, but Jason figures it's just because he's the playboy billionaire talked about on every news station. Bruce Wayne is The Batman.

And now, Jason is Robin, and Bruce Wayne's adopted son.

(The first Robin, Jason learns, is a boy named Dick Grayson, and Jason can't shake the feeling that the name Grayson sounds familiar, too.)

.....

"You're the one who left, dude. Not my fault you're a runaway."

"Runaway?" Dick looks at Jason like he's grown two heads.

And suddenly Jason can hear the slight accent in the others voice, and he knows he's heard it somewhere before, just like the last name Grayson, and- "Fucking Circus Boy?"

.....

Or, the story of Jason Todd through life, death, and rebirth, and the Circus Boy he keeps running into.

.....

Or, my own retelling of Jason Todd's story, made up of bits and pieces from different canons and molded together into a brand-new shape.

—> chapters

Runway and Circus Boy

I love you, Circus Boy [coming soon]

Happy Birthday, Runaway

Circus Boy’s Revenge [coming soon]

Welcome back, Runaway [coming soon]

Nice ass, Circus Boy [coming soon]

I love you, too, Runaway [coming soon]

[hannahhook7744]

Modern Merlin Moodboards (Part 2) (Revamped);

Character: Queen Guinevere Pendragon.

Modern name: Gwen Smith.

Age: 37 years old.

Modern job: Owner of a floral and boutique shop called 'Camelot Beauties'.

Short rundown of their modern life: Gwen Smith was born to a poor family in Brooklyn and grew up very happy until the death of her mother, which caused her older brother, Elyan, to runaway from home when she was 12.

Her mother was a seamstress and her father was a factory worker—both of whom would die from separate illnesses when she was 11 and 19 respectfully (not long after she first started her business). Leaving her on her own for a few months aside from her childhood best friend— Morgan's—family until her brother returned.

She would later go on to attend the weddings of Mithian and Elyan & Morgan and Del (as well as several others as she continued to meet people that her new friend Merlin kept introducing her to)—and she'd go to volunteer at Tristian and Izzy's Youth Center. Which was very fulfilling.

However, she could never quite shake the feeling that something was missing. A feeling that only slightly lessened when she adopted the baby boy she found on the doorstep of her shop when she was 26.

A feeling that continues to grow with every dream of the blonde with a charming smile in red who feels like home.

Character: King Arthur Pendragon.

Modern name: Arthur Smith.

Age: 38 years old.

Modern job: Stay at home dad (until he becomes more acquainted with the modern day).

Short rundown of their modern life: King Arthur Pendragon has not yet risen but will likely become a stay at home dad (until he becomes more acquainted with the modern day) when he does.

Character: Arthur the lesser and Artie Pendragon.

Modern name: Artie Smith.

Age: 11 years old.

Modern job: None. He's a student.

Short rundown of their modern life: Little Artie was left on the doorstep of 'Camelot Beauties' where he was found by the owner, Gwen Smith, who took him in.

She went on to raise him with the help of Morgana, Elyan, and the others.

Which caused him to befriend most, if not all, of their kids.

Character: Morgause.

Modern name: Morgause le Fay.

Age: 43 years old.

Modern job: Lawyer.

Short rundown of their modern life: Morgause le Fay was born to an unfaithful stay at home mom (and former socialite) and a soldier (who loved her very much).

Eventually though her father died during combat and her mother disappeared in a fire (caused by an oven that was developed and sold by the Penace Industries— Morgan's father owned), leaving her in charge of her younger sister and permantly disfigured at 17 years old.

She then had to fight tooth and nail to become emancipated and then fight to gain custody of her sister against her sister, Morgan's, biological father (who was a very bigoted and classist man). Which wasn't easy to do but she managed. All the while beginning to hate the man more than she already had before the incident.

She went on to rent a house with a wannabe magician named Edwin so she could properly take care of her sister while she took up different jobs to provide for them both. And later the little street rat her sister took a liking to, Mordred.

After Morgan graduated, Morgause started to seeing Edwin—who she had already befriended and bonded with over their shared burn scars—and went to law school. Still working multiple jobs to feed herself and Mordred (with help from Morgan who had gotten a scholarship and access to a trust fund after her bio father died).

And eventually, Morgause graduated and began a lawyer—one who fought for those who couldn't fit for themselves. One who fought for businesses like the one her sister ran.

Character: Edwin Muriden.

Modern name: Edwin 'Ed' Mercer.

Age: 43 years old.

Modern job: Famous Magician.

Short rundown of their modern life: Edwin 'Ed' Mercer grew up in the circus, raised by magicians until he was 7 when an oil lamp made by Penace Industries caused the trailer he lived in with his parents to burst into flames with them inside while he was playing outside.

Once he realized that his parents were in fact still inside, Edwin threw himself into the flames trying to save them and became disfigured in the process.

From that day on, he swore vengeance against Penace Industries—more specifically the owner—and ended up becoming roommates with the man's daughter and her older half sister, who Edwin took a fancy to.

He dropped his plans for revenge after Morgan's father died and continued on his path to becoming a magician.

Eventually crossing paths with Magicans Sophia and Gili, and street performer, Daegal, who he kinda became friendly rivals with.

Now he's a famous magician but still lives with Morgause who he is dating (niether are into the whole marriage thing) and he is very happy.

Character: Lady Morgana Pendragon.

Modern name: Morgan le Fay.

Age: 41 years old.

Modern job: Owner of Morgan's Palace (a restaurant and gay club/bar).

Short rundown of their modern life: Morgan was the product of an affair between rich business man Uther Penace and her unfaithful stay at home (and former socialite) mom.

For the first fifteen years of her life, she was unaware of this fact as she was raised by her mother and her mother's husband—who was a solider—alongside her older half sister, Morgause.

Then her step father died in combat and a fire broke out because of a faulty oven that caused her mother to disappear and her sister to become disfigured.

She was in the foster system for months as her sister and father fought over custody of her until her sister finally won and took her in, working her ass off to provide for her.

When Morgan was 17, she found a little boy around 4 digging around in the trash trying to find some food after his own father died and convinced Morgause to take him in as their brother.

The boy's name was Mordred and he now works at the club/bar/ restaurant that Morgan opened up as soon as she had the proper licensing (at 21) and built with the leftover money from her trust fund (that her bio father left her).

Her business is located right next to childhood friend (Gwen Smith)'s shop, Camelot Beauties, and she (along with her wife, Del, who owns an occult shop just up the road) has helped Gwen raise her adoptive son, Artie, since the very beginning alongside her own son, Morgie.

Character: Forridel.

Modern name: Del le Fay.

Age: 41 years old.

Modern job: Occult Shop Owner.

Short rundown of their modern life: Del le Fay (Nee West) was raised by her elderly grandmother who remained her only family until she died when Del was 24.

Leaving Del grieving and the proud owner of her grandmother's occult shop (West's Occult Shop).

The shop where Del would meet her adoptive little sister, Kara.

The shop where Del would meet her wife, Morgan le Fay, one day when she was 26 and looking for a present for her little thirteen year old brother, Mordred (who it turns out Kara knew when she was little if the pictures she had on her were anything to go by.

They quickly became friends and after three years of being friends, they started dating and eventually married.

She is also hiding a white baby dragin named 'Aithusa' that she found that only Morgan's son knows about. Well, officially anyway. Plenty of people have seen the dragon and it has become a bit of a local cryptid around where they live.

Character: Morgie le Fay.

Modern name: Morgar 'Morgie' le Fay.

Age: 13 years old.

Modern job: None. He's a student.

Short rundown of their modern life: Morgar 'Morgie' le Fay was born under mysterious circumstances to Morgan le Fay before Morgan and Del started dating.

He was raised alongside Artie and has always looked up to his uncle Mordred.

When he was three he started having visions of his mother's past life and because of that he's become somewhat disillusioned to the world around him. And he's started to resent Artie.

And ever since he learned how to read, he's been practicing magic in secret. Including dark magic.

He's been helping his other mother, Del, hide and take care of Aithusa and thrives on hearing the stories people throw around about the supposed 'cryptid' that he knows is just the dragon. He finds them hilarious.

He is very happy with his parents despite his growing mental health issues and resentment towards the world around him.

Character: Sir Mordred.

Modern name: Mordred Barlow le Fay.

Age: 28 years old.

Modern job: Waiter (at Morgan's Place) and Medical Intern.

Short rundown of their modern life: Mordred Barlow (Now Moedred Barlow le Fay) was born in a Wiccan compound who kept to themselves who he lived with for the first few years of his life.

When he was four, his father was sent out for supplies and took him with him—only to be killed in a mugging. Causing Mordred to have to fend for himself for a couple of days until he was found by Morgan le Fay who convinced her sister to take them in as their father.

So his name was changed to Mordred Barlow le Fay and he was raised as their little brother.

When he was 13, Morgan got him some Wiccan books for his birthday from the shop where she met her girlfriend, who just so happened to be fostering Mordred old childhood friend, Kara.

Now he lives in a flat above Morgan's Palace with his fiancée, Kara, where they both work while he interns at the local hospital under Dr. Merlin Everstone as he studies to become one himself.

Character: Kara.

Modern name: Kara Galdur.

Age: 28 years old.

Modern job: Waitress (at Morgan's Place) and Overnight Stocker (West's Occult Shop).

Short rundown of their modern life: When Kara was 11, her guardian abandoned her into the custody of Del West who's treated like a younger sister ever since.

When she was 13, whe was reunited with her old childhood friend, Mordred, and her adoptive sister befriended his adoptive sister.

When she was 16, Del and Morgana married, and she started dating Mordred.

Now she works as a waitress at Morgan's Palace and an overnight stalker at at West's Occult Shop, and lives in the flat over Morgan's Palace with her fiance, Mordred.

🔮🪄🧿🔮🪄🧿🔮🪄🧿🔮🪄🧿🔮🪄🧿🔮🪄🧿

Mood boards for my Merlin story 'it's time, it's time, it's time' where the younger characters of Merlin get reincarnated and have a second shot at life. Minus Leon and Merlin who are immortal and have to find a way to prevent history from repeating itself.

Big thanks to @hufflepuffpirate20 , @gwaine-lover , @genderfunky-lesbian , @everything-but-the-not-natural , @witchmd13 , @sautedonions , and @purpleblobfrompluto for the help they gave back when this au started off (which was a lot). Tag list: @history-of-stories .

Here is a link to the story on ao3.

Part 1 is here.

[honeyspiders10]

could you do a tamaki amajiki x male reader fic? :DD i love him sm

Of course! I haven't written for tamaki yet, so I'm super excited!! I didn't get a prompt or any specifics, so I'm just going to do basic headcanons!

P.S. I'm so sorry this took so long to get out!! I've been busy with schoolwork and working on other things and stuff, and with Thanksgiving coming up, I've been trying to make myself look presentable to people by using skin care! And I just started streaming on Twitch! So I've been dealing with technical shit and stuff. (Alot harder than it seems, btw) anyway enough about my problems and excuses that's get started!!!

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Request: Yes!

Genre: Fluff!

Fandom: BNHA or MHA

Pronouns used: none used, but used the word 'boy' when referring to reader. Male reader is strongly implied.

Pairing: Tamaki Amajiki x Male reader!

Style: Headcanons

Proofread: yes

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Tamaki is a very shy person. We know this. We've seen how he acts in public. He hides behind Mirio and asks Mirio to do all the talking and stuff. He's the same way with you.

He obviously is a cuddlebug. He's just too shy to admit it. He will start getting more comfortable the further into the relationship you get.

He gets nervous when out in public with you. Not that he's ashamed of liking boys. He's just afraid about the stares when you guys hold hands or when you give him a peck on the cheek all the :O faces he gets. He will put his head on your shoulder and just lay there until you reach where you're going. But he loves you and doesn't want to be with anyone else, but he could definitely go without all the stares.

If you find out what's making Tamaki so nervous, you will throw hands. Like things along the lines of: "What are you staring at? Have you never seen 2 boys love each other? We're not circus animals. Look the other way, Karen." He'll be thankful but with also be petrified.

Not that this has any backup, but I feel like he's extremely artistic. He loves to paint, specifically, oil painting. It is one of the hardest media's to use, and he is AMAZING at it. He loves getting praise for the paintings he...paints. and of course, when he shows you, you give so much love and praise, and for what he's created, he gets a little overwhelmed, and then you have to calm him down while mildly panicking.

Tamaki has some sensory issues. He doesn't like loud noises, which is the one that you can see in the show. Doesn't like fireworks or loud music or anything. So, there are no parties for Amajiki.

This boy loves taking baths, and I mean LOVES. Bath bombs are probably his favorite thing ever. His favorites are soft purple ones and the ones that smell like caramel and vanilla.

With the HC above this one, his favorite place to go is bath and body works or the candle section in Walmart. He definitely had like 50 candles. His dorm must smell amazing.

Tamaki has a fear of insects, but he loves butterflies and bees. My guy hates centipedes (same bro) and crickets. Or practically anything that jumps. Will runaway screaming if he sees a praying mantis. NEVER let this man around a spider he won't even be able to run away he'll pass the fuck out.

His favorite time of day is dusk and nighttime. He loves watching the sunset and mapping constellations he's great at astronomy. Bonus points if you're there. ^^

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Alright, sorry it's kinda short!! I hope you like it though! I love Tamaki and can't wait to write for him again! Toodles!!

[constellarcreator]

aquato family headcanons if you please! I'm in the mood for aquato positivity hours (when am I not)

Ohoho bestie you came to the right place

- None of this family is neurotypical. Augustus and Donatella are autistic and adhd solidarity and it passed down to their kids

- it's heavily implied that Donatella is a runaway and if we're going by the idea that she had a bad home life, Razputin running away must've hurt A LOT. A bona fide "oh god I'm becoming like my own parents" moment

- Donatella and Nona are very close. Dona sees her as a maternal figure after running away to join Augustus with the circus

- Mirtala had a mermaid phase at one point. EXTREMELY ironic lmao. At the time of the games she's in a princess phase (hence the tiara)

- Frazie is a horse girl and collects those realistic plastic horse figures and has a few my little ponies too (not very many bc those are more expensive)

- idk how much of a headcanon this is as opposed to just canon but Frazie has zoolepathy. It's how she understands Sugarcube

- at multiple points when Raz was a baby his parents have walked in on him floating objects or staring at them with brightly glowing eyes

- Raz is transmasc and the first person he told was Dion. Ofc Dion was fully supportive bc YES FINALLY ANOTHER BOY (this was before Queepie showed up)

- when Dona was expecting, Augustus was comically protective of her and insisted on doing EVERYTHING for her. She was more amused by this than anything and genuinely appreciated it

- sometimes Raz has trouble controlling his mind reading and can hear EVERYONE'S thoughts at once for as long as several hours at a time. Think Dolores from Encanto but worse </3

[bluberimufim]

Make Me Write Tag Game

I was tagged by @writeblr-of-my-own (convince them to write here)

I will very gently tag @hallwriteblr , @camillenrose , and @sm-writes-chaos . Pls do have fun.

Brief WIP descriptions under the cut

"Black and White"

Darius thinks all his dreams have come true when he's hired as the assistant of his favourite stage magician, Diedrich Vogelmann. What he doesn't know is that, years ago, Diedrich sold his soul in exchange for his powers of illusion, and now a dark shadow hovers over the circus they both work at.

Currently in its third draft.

The (probably forever at this point) unnamed Dystopia WIP

In the morning after a failed coup d'état, four revolutionaries find a young boy with no memory of who he is. They determine that he's Cristover Kalenev, younger brother of one of their enemies, and take him with them. Over the years, the five grow closer to each other, with all eventually leading to the reunion of the two Kalenev brothers .

Currently an outline and a textbook's worth of worldbuilding. May or may not become a graphic novel?

"Devourer of Souls"

Seth was shunned from his community of healers for his deadly powers, earning him the title of "devourer of souls". He has just resigned himself to a life of isolation when a runaway demigod breaks into his house and decides to become his friend. Over the years, his once lonely house in the countryside becomes home to a young girl allergic to magic, a teenager with two souls inside their body and unsure of who they are, and a failed demigod prototype.

You might have noticed I barely described a plot. This is because I currently only have 6 characters and a vibe.