#there's simply no cure for clownery

[kindahoping4forever]

Seeing you say you miss writing makes me so happy! Your work was some of the best I've ever seen when it comes to 5SOS fics and I truly believe all the new content will spark some inspiration for you 👀 however long it may take 💜💜

This is so sweet 😭😭😭 Trust me, I have a LOT of ideas swirling around (I legit plotted and actually almost started on a Luke fic after the Pryzm shows lmaooo) and a LOT of WIPs I'm dying to finish up and get out to you guys! Honestly I'm just in such a weird place mentally atm, I'm finding it hard to let go enough to access that creative space that I need to be in to write. 🥲 But I'm working on it and every day I am filled with hope I'll get back to where I was! Thank you for your patience and encouragement, it means a lot. 💙

[oplishin]

NO NOW I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT HORRIBLE PATHOLOGIC JOJO, AND IF I HAVE TO SUFFER IM TAKING YOU ALL DOWN WITH ME

Feel free to ignore my clownery

Crazy diamond would be INSANELY helpful- “ah you have sand pest??”*unplagues you*. That is up until josuke contracts the plague and dies from it. That almost sounds like claras route lmao

I mean I guess josuke dying would be circumvented by heavens door also being used for healing abilities but whatever

Considering that giorno made a cure for purple hazes thing in about 5 seconds the whole plague part of the plague game is pretty much solved

Even if it wasn’t, giorno can basically make ANY organ he wants out of anything??? God that would be so much easier

Crazy diamond would be so goddamn helpful for fixing the water pumps that are always freaking broken

Jotaro would simply punch everyone in the face (saburov, big vlad, ahem). He’d probably punch the plague in the face too

I wonder if bucciarati would be Lara but with more stealing things for the safe house

If there are no stands, and we take every jojo character 100% seriously, there’s genuinely some good angst to be had there. Love to shove my favorite characters into hell

And if the patho characters go to jojo universe uhhhhh Everyone dies. Daniil opens his mouth and get fucking eviscerated. Only Clara survives; her powers would maybe get translated to a stand?

Stand idea for artemy: something to do with the property of equivalent exchange? Based on his whole hard choices thing. In game he uses organs to make cures, so maybe he’s trade some amount of matter for another useful item?? I guess that would just be alchemy from fma… shhhh

Claras powers are literally just as temperamental. Fulfilling wishes but there’s a 50% chance of it going horribly wrong. The more the person believes her, the better chance she has.

Daniil… taking pieces of peoples souls (a canonical thing in jojo apparently) and trading them for knowledge?

Girl idk I’m not very creative

[norrington-hell]

Uhh ship thing again? James and Will

…oh. OH.

First off, I would like to establish that, in the world of canon, I do not ship Will and James (or Willington, if you prefer). That said…as I wrote Redemption’s Promise and built a mutual respect and admiration between them that flowed so naturally I hardly had a hand in it, I saw the potential for a multi-faceted relationship there. And while I didn’t explore a romantic edge to that facet in my fic, I would be lying if I said the idea hadn’t sparked an interest in me (and several of my readers, as they felt the need to point out lol).

All this to say that these listed dynamics are operating under the assumption that James and Will are 1) not antagonistic toward one another 2) do not have Elizabeth between them to muddy the situation 3) are both mlm (which I honestly headcanon them as anyway).

Alright, enough with the fine text. Onto the main event!

Werewolf: WillHunter: JamesAs I said with the Norribeth one of these, James is already a pirate hunter by trade. That translates really well. But I see Will as being a nonviolent Werewolf. One who’s just trying to get by, maybe even trying to find a cure. I imagine him ‘outing’ himself by jumping between James and an enemy werewolf and transforming to fight. After that, James has to struggle with the fact that he can no longer believe all lycanthropes are evil. Something something crime-fighting duo. Something something overcoming biases. Something something James should not be turned on by this. >:D

Mermaid: JamesFisherman: WillI had to think about this one a bit, and I’m still not super jiving with the results. I suppose I just don’t feel this dynamic really suits them.

Witch: ElizabethFamiliar: James and Will and JackOkay I lied. This one definitely brings Elizabeth into play. She’s a witch with three familiars: James (a hawk), Will (a wolf), and Jack (a black cat). Maybe they’re all former lovers she’s cursed into doing her bidding. OOoooh I like that. Jack gets up to all sorts of clownery, leaving James and Will to fix things. Hijinks ensue.

Barista: WillCoffee Addict: JamesJames prefers his coffee black, not especially fond of all the bells and whistles people tend to throw into the mix these days. But a simple black drip means he’s out the door in less than two minutes, and, for reasons he hasn’t taken the time to parse out, he’s keen to spend just a few more than that waiting by the counter.It could be the pleasant smell of freshly ground beans in the air. It could be the cozy, laid-back atmosphere of the establishment and how it gives him a break from his fast-paced life. It could be he simply likes the unique roast of the espresso. It could be many things.But, while they may add to the draw of the place, James knows the truth of the matter, even as he wraps himself in a cloak of denial.A soft, sincere smile. Warm russet eyes. The way the barista instantly memorized his on-the-spot, conjured, confection of a drink.‘See you tomorrow, James.’He pretends not to notice how their fingers brush as he takes the paper cup, which he would usually pawn off on a coworker before using the communal office Keurig. But the scrawled seven-digit number beneath his thumb makes that an impossibility today. This one is his.‘I wouldn’t miss it.’

Professor: JamesTA: WillAnd my reasoning is much the same as my Norribeth version. An 8 year age gap. Probably some sort of history class. Likely Age of Sail. James builds model ships as a hobby. Will would probably find that enchanting. 

Knight: JamesPrince: WillJames is a protector by nature. It just seems to suit him. And Orlando Bloom played a prince in a different trilogy, sooo…there you go.Oh god…Will is promised to a princess from another kingdom, but his heart truly lies with his oldest friend and staunchest protector. But duty and station mean everything to James. How could he ask him to turn his back on that?…I like this au too much. Too much to continue to play in this space. I can’t afford to get attached.

Teacher: WillSingle Parent: JamesPapa!James is very near and dear to my heart. No idea who the mother is, but the story would be a tropey mess, that’s for damn sure. Will sees his student dropped off every day by her doting, if serious, father. Who is very handsome. And very single. He would arrange a meet up outside of school. Try to teach James to open up and have fun. Eventually, try to teach him how to love again.GOD I HATE HOW MUCH I’M ENJOYING THIS.

Writer: JamesEditor: WillJames writes aggressively researched true crime novels and has been doing so for the better part of a decade. His life is ritual and routine, which he very seldom deviates from. Then his editor retires, and a new, young, fresh-faced replacement arrives. At first, James is upset, annoyed. Why, he’s no more than a boy! But, Will proves to be meticulous, cunning, and just the right amount of tenacious to be an optimal fit, not just as an editor and fellow researcher, but as so much more.

Okay. So. I guess my muse was really spoiling for some Willington. I didn’t write nearly this much for the version of this that was about my OTP! Oh well. I hope y’all enjoyed my pithy ramblings.

I tag @literarytrashpanda. You know what you did.

[on-the-wings-of-hope-prose-en]

Fate

The fate of the rabbit Aristarchus was not so hot. And now it was rushing like a pack of wild rabbits away from foxes in front of his very eyes with no desire to make another stop in order to revel in pity to itself.

Why Aristarchus, you ask me? Aristarchus himself did not know what sort of fox and in what sort of place once bitten these people who bought him from a local farmer only to put him into some traveling circus. To call him, Kosoy, as Aristarchus… that’s some silly clownery! But in this very circus, all five years of Aristarchus’s life flashed like those rabbits.

That was something to tell! There were hide and seek games in the magician's hat, there you could behold jumping above the rope, spectacular appearance out of the black boxes, not to mention the sprinting marathons inside the circus’s circle along with pigs, cats, and dogs. What kind of nonsense these silly laughing people forced Aristarchus to do! Circus, in a word.

“They bred and cheat you, gray one, for sure. I mean, to just eat you they just breed you. And they are doing the same with me, I feel it in my hooves,” pig Mary often lamented to him into his large rabbit’s ears after the regular circus performance.

“You are silly, fat one, to tell such fairy tales,” Aristarchus consoled her as often, while himself thinking in those moments: “Maybe, they truly cheat and breed?” And a knife-sharp sense of self-pity and hatred for his fate once again pierced his soft rabbit heart.

Years took their toll, you say? As a matter of fact, by rabbit standards, Aristarchus was still young enough – and stupid enough to once openly doze on the edge of the forest only to fall into the hands of the ill-fated farmer. To be honest, the farmer cured him and his wounded in the course of the last rescue from fox's paws leg but didn’t deserve Aristarchus’s love for that act of kindness anyway. “Such is my fate, probably,” Aristarchus bitterly sighed when the farmer gave him to the circus, “and there is no point in jumping against the fate.”

“You cannot escape the fate, Mary!” he loved to philosophize in front of the pig once in a while. “For she is like a fox – sooner or later she will catch you and eat in a flash of time!”

“You are silly, Kosoy, to tell such fairy tales,” Mary replied to him, while herself thinking in those moments: “Maybe, there is truly no escape?” And in such moments her hooves became weak, and she plopped down into the mud once again and bathed in it until the exhaustion until she was as dumb as a sheep.

Aristarchus also wanted to fall down together with her in the mud, or to drink water from puddles, but Mary repeatedly tried to dissuade him: “Don’t ever drink from there, Ari! You will either become a goat or will turn into a sheep! A drinking rabbit is a woe of the family!”

“I’ve had enough of your lamentations, sheep!” sheep Innocentus, or shortly Inoc, often interrupted their mutual spiritual outpourings. “Shut up, or I will gore that bullshit out of you!” The prospect of being gored to the death by this mad horned beast has always frightened both Mary and Aristarchus and during such moments they reduced the degree of own lamentations and complaints, though not for too long. Unlike cats, they had only one life – and when one can curse own fate if not in this one?

“And I could already have a family right now…” Aristarchus thought in such days. “Cute wife and pretty small rabbits… What was I thinking about? I was the first guy in the underbrush, girls were checking me out while I was turning my face away from all of them… No, that’s bullshit, it’s simply my fate!” he repeatedly reassured that nagging inner feeling of lost alternative opportunities. And time and again was effectively appearing out of the circus magician’s hat, and jumping over the rope, and running marathons around the circle of life with pigs, and trying not to hob-nob with the sheep. Circus, in a word.

But the fate of Aristarchus was still not so hot. Five years later, he was noticeably older and could no longer run – only to lie and wail, for the most part. Pig Mary also disappeared somewhere one Sunday evening, and since then there was no one to swim in the local mud puddles and to eat slops. Sheep Inoc broke his two horns when during another fit of rage at those infuriating him once tried to butt the cable column. Well, and the owners of the traveling circus could barely make ends meet. So one day they simply let Aristarchus go – took him out of the cage and let him out into the nearest undergrowth. Enough of moaning, they say. Better run to… all four sides! But by that time Aristarchus could no longer run – the load of his years and opening alluring forest prospects, where you had to take care of yourself, pressed so heavily on the whole essence of Aristarchus, so that his soul – if, well, rabbits have it – almost literally went into his heels, so he could barely drag his feet. And on the third day of his wanderings through the deserted forests came, in fact, that very hour X.

***

“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the flank, my friend. That way we may have never met!” the wolf chuckled while holding Aristarchus in his paw and looking around.

“Do your dirty thing, gray one,” bitterly croaked squeezed by mighty paws Aristarchus. “Don’t you spit in my soul or pull my ears! One cannot escape from his fate…”

“My, just look at that weak-willed philosophical specimen I’ve got today!” grinned the wolf. “Perhaps, I will even leave a foot from you as a warning for future generations. Rabbit’s foot, you know, is a symbol of good luck!” he laughed.

“Don’t you torture my ears,” Aristarchus groaned. “My soul ashes anyway.”

“And do you know why I’ve got you, oh my mentally lame friend, aye?” the wolf blinked with his two eyes that were burning with a fire of malice. “How does it go… you cannot escape your fate. You are not gonna out of this life alive, Kosoy!”

“No fate…” obediently agreed with him Aristarchus.

03.03.2019