It Means He Likes You

Weeping clown and Mike falling for a modern reader? Please i missed you!!

hmmm i love the circus gang so much you have no idea

Character(s): Acrobat, Weeping Clown

Content: modern reader hcs A/N: I am almost sure that I got this request before I went on summer break because it looked SUPER familiar. However, when I opened my requests again, my inbox was empty. So I think this was either sent in twice or was eaten by Tumblr. Either way, here it is

Mike

You’re from the future?! That’s so cool?!?

Listen, he may be traumatized as hell from having to identify a dozen burned dead bodies, losing his home and all his family, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be excited about literal time travel. 

Asks you about everything. Every fucking thing. The villain arc will be temporarily delayed.

Well, once the excitement dies down somewhat you’ll still have to deal with the fact that out of the five stages of grief, this man is stuck in anger. But that’s for later to deal with

Would love to see a spring base cotton candy machine

Would love to have witnessed modern cinema

and all those crazy carnival rides nowadays? How did no one die riding those. From what you describe, everyone in the future must be crazy

He treats the reality you come from much more like a story in a fantasy book rather than an actual possibility

Not to say he doesn't believe you, he just can't quite picture it. It sounds exciting though, certainly does

He listens to you talk about your timeline like a child listening to a bedtime story. Outside of that though, he will ignore it entirely.

This occasionally leads to moments where he just does not understand that you have different views or opinions on things based on the knowledge and standards of your varying times.

This sometimes even extends to scientific discoveries, but not as often because he doesn't care for science much

He also doesn't think about what might be or could be or would be in the future. You're probably never going to leave the manor anyway, so who cares which time you'd end up in

It doesn't matter to him, because he has nothing to go back to in his, and nothing to look forward to in your timeline. He has nothing. No matter where he ends up, he'd have to start over. Start from scratch. As long as he's in the manor, with you, the two of you will at least have that.

That's not so bad, is it?

Weeping Clown

Initially very confused about the fact that you came from literally another century

He’s more hesitant with his questions, more focused on trying to understand you and the world you come from rather than be entertained by all the changes that happened.

Honestly, I could see him at some point just being over the fact that you’re from a different time. Like, once he knows all he needs to know it doesn’t matter to him much anymore. Sure, your circumstances and the ideals and standards you grew up with majorly influenced you, and helped to shape you into the magnificent, amazing human being he loves so much but that’s all that matters to him: Who you are right now.

Would definitely love to see this Youtube thing you keep going on about though. He’s very intrigued

Finds that clowns aren't exactly popular anymore so maybe it's good that he lived in the times when he lived because boy would he have lost his job fast

However, apparently, no one can just go out and buy acid anymore, so that's definitely a plus

Based on what you told him, circus 'culture' changed a lot. Not it's more about performance and tricks than wild animals and laughing at 'grotesque' humans.

He thinks it makes sense then that you are as kind as you are, the time you come from is much kinder as well.

But still, he thinks that, if one day you get out of the manor, and maybe get to leave together to witness your time, then he would feel terribly out of place. Your eyes shine whenever you excitedly talk about the advancements of the future, all the good things in your world. All those are things he wouldn't understand. Perhaps it's better then, that you are trapped here. Because at least you are trapped here together, as opposed to a future where inevitably, he'd end up left behind.

Sometimes I think about whatever poor soul they've gotten to be the Grand Sage in Alhaitham's place. Like, I M A G I N E being in that person's shoes.

The guy you're replacing staged a full-blown revolution that overthrew your entire nation's way of life because he was concerned he might have to work overtime.

He looks like he could bench press you. He looks like he can shoot lasers with his mind.

This guy you're replacing is on first name basis with the chief of police, the head of Fish and Game, the guy who designed half your country's infrastructure, an entire band of warring desert mercenaries, a millennia-years-old dragon-fighting alien--

For that matter, this guy you're replacing is on first name basis with god.

Shit, you're even hearing rumors that he's somehow the reincarnation of King Deshret?! What will people come up with next??

And yet somehow, somehow this guy fully expects to show up on Tuesday, sit at his desk for eight hours doing nothing more complicated than stamping papers, and then... he wants to just... go home.

What are you even supposed to do with this?

The guy who got arrested for fist-fighting the last grand sage wants to be your secretary.

May Lesser Lord Kusanali have mercy on you, sir or ma'am, because if you come between him and the punch clock, Alhaitham will not.

Blood runs thicker than water.

lies of p paring: pinocchio x reader word count: 1159 cw: angst :], mentions of death, blood, beyond canon-typical violence i think, rage frenzy

a/n: welcome to my first real post on this account. i've been obsessed over pinocchio from lies of p since i started the game, then i started listening to chloe ament... you can probably see where this is going. hope you enjoy.

Emotions were not as elusive as they had previously been for the man-made puppet and yet, in this moment, he couldn't identify a singular one he felt. There had been a rush of worry, fright, and terror. But now it was an invasive mess.

His skin reacted to the slight breeze that blew past him, a shiver breaking him from his frozen stance.

Still, he wished for the sight before him to be one of the lies he'd thrown around.

Approaching the scene, Pinocchio would stumble, an imperfection to his typically faultless cadence. The ground below him squelched with wet mud as he did so, a distant sound to his eerily still mind. The loudest noise to him was the rising tempo of his mechanically heart, it rang in his ears, obscuring the sounds of pattering rain and squished mud.

Before him was you, pale as your blood had drained from your face.

You were posed on your knees, arms dangling loosely by your sides as a sword held you up, struck through your chest and into the muddied ground below. Pinocchio's glass eyes trailed the blade of the sword, every few inches was an extended notch of the blade, permitting the relatively upright position you'd been laid to rest in. A wooden sign hung with rope from the hilt of the blade,

Puppet Fucker. It read.

His hurricane of emotions came to an eerie calm.

The dark-haired puppet would take the rest of the paces to you, kneeling by your lifeless form. Pulling the sign from the hilt of the blade and tossing it into the muddied ground below, Pinocchio would do a once-over of your body.

Your shirt was torn, multiple wounds bedded into your skin, signs of struggle ripped across your hands. Your blade was broken in half, a few feet from your person. Your hair was matted and stuck to your face. He watched as the rain paved its path down your skin, some pooling in your stuck-open eyes before sliding down your cheeks. If he had known any better, he'd have guessed you'd been sad.

The puppet would reach forward, silently pressing the pads of his fingers against your top eyelids, pulling them down to finally let you rest your eyes.

A breath escaped him, fogging the air between you and him.

Slowly, Pinocchio would place a hand against your back, then his other between your thighs and calves. Bringing himself to his feet, you'd rest in the bridal position he held you in just a year prior. The tone of that moment was much more pleasant to bask in.

One step at a time, Pinocchio found his way back to the hotel.

He'd kick the door open with a lack of urgency, your fate had been sealed hours before.

Trekking mud, rain water, and dead city grime onto the shiny floors of the hotel, Pinocchio would approach the central Stargazer.

The first to notice him was Sophia, gasping in horror at the large, notched blade sworn through your chest. Antonia, from the other room, would advert her gaze, a solemn expression Pinocchio couldn't read overcoming her face. Eugenie had frozen, leaving Venigni to look around the corner of the wall. Shock was quickly present in his features.

Finally, Pinocchio's eyes would leave your form, his eyes coming into contact with Sophia's, a silent plead shifting his expression. No words were needed in the exchange, a nod coming from her as soon as she saw his face.

Your funeral was small, held in the garden of the hotel. The guest list didn't expand beyond the residents of the safe space, no one of your biological family lived beyond you.

Pinocchio stayed the latest of everyone, knelt by your makeshift headstone, fingers lightly tracing the dirt before it.

The calm of the storm hadn't passed, he'd been near numb to the entirety of it all, earning him a few concerned glances from Gepetto and Sophia. He knew the two of them shared their worries behind his back whenever they could.

He had given the sword to Venigni and Eugenie to inspect, perhaps find its maker, or better yet, who wielded it.

Venigni had an answer two days later. Pinocchio hadn't moved much until given the information he desired. Slowly, and in a fashion that near scared the philanthropist, the puppet rose. His glass eyes trailed the blade Eugenie held behind Venigni. He approached. Carefully, as to not hurt the woman, Pinocchio would take the sword into his palms.

The metal made a horrifying screech as it bent, Pinocchio's Legion Arm doing the majority of the work. When the sword was rendered useless, the puppet would move forward, back into the luxury of Hotel Krat.

He was working out his lack of emotions while he moved, it wasn't a numbness like he had before he began gaining humanity.

It was a silent, simmering rage.

The atmosphere surrounding the puppet was enough to alert Sophia, she started to interject as he approached the Stargazer, but his human-like arm had already reached the glowing center piece.

In a moment he was back to the creepily empty streets of the city, a new mission on his mind.

Pinocchio tore through any puppet trying to attack him on his path, his rapier tearing their arms from their torsos, or their heads from their necks. Oil and Ergo splattered against his clothes and face, nothing the rain couldn't wash away.

Eventually, Pinocchio would kick in the door of a luxurious-looking mansion, the wooden door splintering from its hinges and loudly clattering against marble floors.

Eyes scanning the foyer was nearly enough to send him into a rage. Weapons, all custom made lined themselves against the walls, a list of names under each of them. For some, names were crossed out, for others, the names laid untouched. Though, as Pinocchio entered further into the quiet of the mansion, he'd find his eyes traveling to the central stairs at the back of the main room.

Your name, printed in bold, crossed with a red line, lay under an empty sword mount. Next to your name, under a sword mount with a plain blade, was Pinocchio's, untouched.

A few claps would pull the puppet from his stare, as a man came down the upper level of stairs.

Pinocchio's mechanical heart beat louder, obscuring the words of the man before him, his eyebrows pinching towards each other as he'd throw the sword he'd bent onto the ground between the man and himself. It scraped across the marble floors, leaving a few scratches that would never be repaired.

Whatever the man was saying, Pinocchio couldn't hear. His breathing began to pick up, a trait he'd copied from you, his heart was raising in tempo again.

The man would grab the sword labeled with Pinocchio's name.

An invitation to begin.

Pinnochio found his way back to Hotel Krat, covered in blood that the rain couldn't wash away.

hope you enjoyed my first one-shot ♡

Scaramouche after getting his Mecha suit. (Comic by me )

deshret reincarnation theory except! the moment alhaitham learns about it he falls to his knees and mourns his perfectly normal generic life and then passes out from the exhaustion of visibly emoting

I was just reading a very convincing theory about how Alhaitham may be King Deshret in disguise, much like how Zhongli is Morax and I got slapped with the memory that Alhaitham "used" the divine knowledge capsule during the heist to feign madness. But if he didn't really use it, how did he fake the glitching and eye color changes, and if he did, how did he avoid the actual madness? Also, where tf did that capsule go?

While on another quest for a college recommendation letter (something he really shouldn’t need by this point) Percy gets punted back to the past, right at the beginning of the Trojan war.

So imagine your a mid level commander praying for the loyalty of your men, who are getting pretty pissed just waiting around on a beach. When suddenly some guy appears in-front of you in a flash of light… Naturally you would assume he is a God, here to answer your prayer! He even gives you tips on how to insure your men stay loyal! Clearly this as of yet unknown God deserves your worship! But who is he?

Meanwhile Percy hasn’t even released he’s in the past yet, he just thinks this guy is some demigod leading his first quest! So obviously he gives him tips! Oh and he wants Percy’s name? Well it’s been a while since anybody didn’t recognise him on site, but he’s not gonna knock that!

So he introduces himself, completely unaware he’s just kicked off his own cult among the Greek soldiers. After all given their situation, a God of loyalty would be pretty popular! Poor Percy who’s mortality was already hanging by a thread, ascends from all the prayers.

After following his new friend back to his camp, Percy eventually realises where, and more importantly when, he is. Yet in typical Percy fashion, he doesn’t realise he’s now a God. Instead he wonders through the camp helping where he can, all while dodging the attention of the Kings who command this army, he doesn’t wanna mess with history to much you know!

And yet now Odysseus and the rest are all searching for this godling in their camp, each eager to claim his patronage for their own, who wouldn’t want the God of loyalty on their side? Unfortunately for them a certain sea God, who at this point still supports the Trojan’s, finally senses Percy’s presence and is quick to grab his new baby from the mortal camp.

Other gods during the archon war: this land isn’t big enough for the two of us…we will fight to the death and only the strongest god will assume a seat in Celestia and rule this land…

Rukkhadevata texting the Sumeru deities group chat in the way you’d text your roommates about chore division: oh yeah btw king deshret me & the goddess of flowers r meeting up w the International Teyvat Immortal Yuri Polycule on wednesday do u wanna come

a happy reunion

So y’all mean to tell me that for the entirety of the Sumeru quest Kaveh was *reads crumpled notes* stuck in a bottle in the middle of a desert-

(Which does add up! With the fact that he had a project in the desert! He just never specified exactly what kind of project! Idk I was rather surprised to see this 😂)