Stubborn, sarcastic, and often dry or deadpan in their humour, playing the straight man to Joker’s usual antics
Sadistic and self-centred, the only people Hannibal would risk his life for are The Joker, Batman, and his child, if he had one
Creative, often putting that energy into writing their articles and making elaborate costumes for Joker’s schemes
Very emotionally driven; They can be logical, but are usually acting on whims
Enjoys frightening others, especially when they underestimate him
Definitely holds grudges, it’s something that was taught to him by growing up in a mob family; You don’t ever forget when someone scorns you, disrespect cannot be tolerated
Background
Birth: December 24th, 19XX - Elisabetta Alberto Falcone is born to Alberto Falcone, son of the formidable mob boss Carmine Falcone, and Denise Devaughn, a lounge singer and sex worker. Alberto argues for his family to spare Denise and the child’s life, knowing the danger he’s put them both in for allowing the relationship to happen.
Ultimately, Carmine lets them go, but the mercy backfires when Denise skips town and leaves the child in Alberto’s care. Reluctantly, Elisabetta is taken in by the Falcones.
Childhood: Elisabetta was mainly raised by the Falcone house staff and her Godfather, Oswald Cobblepot. She was raised as a girl and was tutored within Carmine’s mansion until she was old enough to attend middle school, and even then her education was a private one. Alberto had little interest in raising or spending time with her, as she was a constant reminder of Denise and the “mistake” of their relationship.
Elisabetta was twelve when Alberto and Mario Falcone were killed, among a number of other mobsters, in a mass dispute. Around this time, Elisabetta had begun to question her identity, and after her father's death began actively pursuing a more masculine appearance.
Teenhood: Elisabetta began using the name Emilio and presenting themself as a man as they progressed throughout their teens. Though Carmine held a deep disdain for Emilio’s transition, he mainly reacted with disinterest. He ignored any interest his grandchild had in the family business and actively discouraged Cobblepot from “indulging them.”
Emilio was often harassed by his peers, and occasionally even by the mobsters he’d grown up idolising. Cobblepot was the only person who ever showed any concern when he’d get beaten up. Tired of the mistreatment, Emilio set out on his own at the age of eighteen, too naïve to realise Carmine would never let him leave his house alive; Emilio was of, decidedly, no use to the Roman Empire, but he was a potential liability outside of the mob if he ever decided to run his mouth.
Early 20s: Emilio found work as a journalist with The Script of Damocles, an underground publishing company that focused mainly on articles that would be of use to Gotham City’s criminals. Despite his closet-sized studio apartment and his complete cut-off from the Falcone fortune, Emilio enjoyed his work, writing under the pen name of Hannibal Flood, which would become his most frequent casual alias.
Things were quiet for a few years, until the Roman Empire was able to track him down. Hannibal was severely beaten and tortured by a few of the mob’s associates, then left for dead in the street. If it hadn’t been for some sympathetic goons, Hannibal never would’ve survived his injuries.
Recruitment by The Joker: After the attack, Hannibal awoke in an unfamiliar space; an abandoned motel often used as a hideout by Joker’s henchmen. In exchange for being taken care of, the goons who saved his life pressured Hannibal into assisting in their current job. The boss needed someone who could get in and out of venues without much question, and a journalist seemed like the perfect fit. Seeing as he was still injured and didn’t have much of a leg to stand on, Hannibal agreed.
While Hannibal recovered, he mostly did light muscle work with the other goons. It took some time for The Joker to even notice he had a new face working under him, a new face he hadn’t personally invited. Something about Hannibal particularly intrigued him, once he saw him. Whether it was the scars left from the mob attack or just Hannibal’s general sense of being, the villain was keen on keeping him around.
Supervillain Career: Over time, Joker and Hannibal grew closer than just “boss and henchman.” It’d been some years since Harley Quinn set out on her own, leaving a wide-open space for a new sidekick, but it was clear Hannibal was so much more to him than that. The two even eventually ended up married, to the horror of the city. Beyond his journalism work, Hannibal became known as “The Ace” or “The Joker’s Fool,” gladly leaning into Joker’s penchant for theming.
To sanctify their relationship and to test Hannibal’s loyalty, Joker had them “baptised” in the same Ace Chemicals that created himself. The chemicals have left them with a similarly pale visage, puce hair (though they’ve been known to dye it numerous different colours), and an impeccable pain tolerance.
The Ace’s go-to weaponry is often guns and throwing knives. Cobblepot taught Hannibal gunnery in private, knowing they may someday need it for self-defence.
Summary: Bear (oc), somewhat selfishly, prays for The Metatron to experience sexual pleasure. Little did he know how easily God would comply.
a/n: Ok I'm too happy with this to keep it all to myself, even if nobody else ends up reading it. I had had this idea since I first watched Dogma a few years ago but only finished writing it this year. Porn with feelings. <3
“Tell me again why you don’t have genitals?” Bear hummed as they lay back against their angel boyfriend’s chest, lazily swinging their ankle against the side of the bed.
“Because angels aren’t made to reproduce. It’s as simple as that, and we literally cannot experience any form of sexual desire. It’s just in our nature.” The Metatron answered patiently, stroking Bear’s short hair before adding in a lowered tone, “Believe me, Bear, if I could partake, I would. Now that I have you. I mean, I help where I can...”
Bear turned his head to look up at the angel. “But it’s not the same. Yeah, I got the gist of that a while ago.” He frowned and touched his partner’s jaw. “I want you to feel good, too."
“Making you feel good makes me happy.” The Metatron shrugged.
“But aren’t you frustrated?”
“I haven’t the capacity for it.”
“No, but, I can feel it sometimes, when you’re...” Bear stretched, rolling onto his stomach. “Assisting me. It doesn’t feel good not being able to participate in the same way, I know it doesn’t.”
The two lay in silence for a moment, gazing into each other’s faces before The Metatron sighed, shifting into a sitting position. “It’s late. You should wash up and get some rest.”
Bear frowned but didn’t respond, getting up and doing as instructed. As they wiped down their face with a hot washcloth, an idea struck them. Glancing at the bathroom door and hoping his partner wouldn’t intrude, Bear knelt beside the tub, clasping his hands together and closing his eyes. “Hey, God, I know I don’t really do this... I definitely didn’t do it before I met Metatron... but I need a favour. Just this once. After all, isn’t Metatron really important to you? Please, give him the capacity to feel what I feel. I want him to enjoy himself, too. A piece of eight-inch plastic can only take me so far, you know. Amen.” He muttered under his breath, kneeling in silence afterwards for a moment before standing and rejoining The Metatron in bed.
“Took you long enough,” the angel teased, reaching over to turn off the bedroom light. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Metatron,” Bear yawned, snuggling into his side. “I love you.”
At sunrise, The Metatron startled. He didn’t need to sleep and usually just stuck around through the night for Bear’s sake, so it was more that he was shaken out of his thoughts than anything else. His body felt unusually hot from head to holy toe, his wings bristling against his back, sweat dripping down his skin... and an odd weight between his legs, in a place that would normally be Ken-doll-smooth. Careful not to wake Bear, he shifted off of the bed and quickly undid his pants, stifling a gasp as he slid them down and revealed a handsomely sculpted penis.
He covered his mouth with one hand and cautiously touched the new appendage with the other. His breath hitched at how sensitive it was under his own fingers. Holy Christ. So this is what it felt like to be human. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he stared down at the patch of skin he never gave much thought to. His mind rushed with blurry fantasies, too numerous to focus on just one. On the bed, Bear shifted, little tired squeaks escaping him as he stretched his way awake. The sight of Bear’s plump thighs made the blood rush to his core, and he stumbled back, bumping into the dresser with a clatter.
Bear startled, yawning as he propped himself up on his elbows. He murmured something unintelligible and rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes. The Metatron’s chest heaved with emotion. “Christ, I want you,” his baritone voice shook. Even his wings stood erect, the feathery tips trembling in time with his voice.
Bear’s eyes flew open. “‘M sorry?” He prompted, still only half-awake.
Guilt catching up with him, the angel quickly tugged his pants up to cover his indecency, hissing under his breath at the unpleasant feeling of their interior. Now he could understand why humans wore undergarments. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he answered sheepishly, sounding entirely unlike himself.
Bear sat up, pulling himself against his headboard for support. “You look… dishevelled.” They rubbed their eyes again, peering at their partner curiously. “And… stressed. What’s wrong? C’mere.” They pat the space in front of them and The Metatron reluctantly approached. He stretched his wings, then let them sink into him before disappearing completely.
“I… something strange has happened to me,” he admitted, too cautious to sit on the bed.
Bear cocked his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean??” He suddenly looked fretful, “Angels can’t get sick, can they??”
The Metatron shook his head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He ran a hand over his dark hair, looking for a civil way to explain the strange transformation. When he couldn’t, he sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to show you.” He slowly tugged down his pants again, suppressing a groan as he was once more exposed to the air. He was half-hard, now, a rosy colour spreading throughout the length.
Bear gasped. For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He leaned to the side, looking for something.
“What are you doing??” The angel asked, shifting semi-uncomfortably as the flush reached his cheeks. Bear was blushing too as they returned to their initial position.
“That’s not a strap??”
“A bloody what?”
“A strap-on— a fake dick, Meta.” Their hands went to their warm cheeks as realisation crept through their morning fog. “Oh.”
“What is it?”
“Oh. Jesus that was fucking selfish of me.” Bear inhaled sharply, looking up at their partner. “I prayed for you to… feel the same sexual satisfaction as I do. I-I guess God interpreted that as… give you a dick. I should’ve asked first, I’m sorry…” He buried his face in his hands, embarrassed and ashamed.
The Metatron looked at him for a moment, his feelings not evident on his face. He slowly approached them and held their head to his chest. “I forgive you,” he spoke softly, holding them away to kiss their temple. “I know you were just trying to help. So, help me.” He spread his arms, presenting himself to his human partner. “I am at your mercy.”
They looked up at him, surprised. “You’re not mad?"
He shook his head. “No. How could I be mad when I’ll finally be able to understand why you get so giddy when my hand’s between your legs?”
A shiver ran through Bear as his embarrassment ebbed away, replaced by intrigue and excitement. A shy smile came to him. “Can I touch it?”
“Yes.”
They reached out a soft hand and began to stroke the member, making The Metatron shudder and groan, muttering expletives under his breath. Bear hummed as he stroked the angel to full hardness, admiring each vein and curve. “She certainly gave you Her best.”
“Mmh… I suppose this is part of Her sense of humour… give the most aesthetically pleasing genetalia to a creature who’s never once experienced sexual desire,” The Metatron panted, barely able to respond.
Bear’s hands moved to pull down his pants further. “Take these off. Take it all off, and lie down on the bed. I’ll be right back.”
Involuntarily, the angel whined when the feeling of their hands went away, but he did as he was told as Bear left the room. He folded his clothes and set them aside, sighing as he climbed onto the bed and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He prickled with anticipation, biting his bottom lip as he stole occasional glances at the bedroom door, trying his damndest not to seem impatient.
Bear soon returned with two bottles of water, setting them on the bedside table before opening a drawer. From there, he fetched a bottle of lube. This, at least, The Metatron was familiar with, from other nights with his favourite human. The room glowed with morning light, a scene he would not normally associate with this kind of behaviour. Bear then climbed on top of the bed, standing over the angel’s body as they removed their panties. The angel’s jaw dropped as he watched their movements, slow and teasing. The black panties flew to the floor and Bear knelt, hovering over the angel’s thighs.
They began tracing their hands over his body, watching his reactions. They giggled at the little sounds he made, the frenzied, naive look in his eyes. “You’re so sensitive.~”
“Of course I’m bloody sensitive, I’ve, I’ve never felt like this before…”
“Shh… just relax… I’ll make you feel good.” Their lips ghosted over his neck, teeth grazing his collarbones, soft nips trailing down his chest and stomach, oddly hairless. Their fingertips brushed his thighs and hips. Beneath them, the angel struggled not to squirm, overloaded with new sensations. “Maybe it’s silly to ask, but what do you want me to do first?” Bear asked nonchalantly as they settled between his legs, lazily stroking him once more.
“What do you mean?” The Metatron pushed past another throaty moan.
“Well, I could keep stroking you, like this… like how you put your fingers inside me… or, I could put my mouth on it,” they leaned forward, licking a teasing stripe up the shaft that made him swear again, “Or, I could put it inside me.”
“Christ… why don’t you decide?”
“As you wish.” They smiled, then wrapped their lips around the tip of his leaking cock, fondling his balls as they took him into their mouth. He bucked once and they moved their hands to pin down his hips, continuing to pleasure him orally, their tongue swirling around him at a delicious pace. His deep moans were music to their ears. Never in the thousands of years that the angel had existed had he imagined an ecstasy quite like this. How warm and pleasured he felt in the wetness of Bear’s mouth.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” The Metatron couldn’t help himself, crying out to his creator as his back arched and something exploded inside of him, his mind dancing with stars as his eyes screwed tightly shut. Bear swallowed thick cum that tasted bright and sweet, like the most perfect apple. Breathing heavily as they pulled away, they were still connected to him by a line of spit, which they reluctantly swiped away with their fingers.
They rubbed tentative circles into his thighs as he slowly came down from his high. If he was not already a being of heaven, Bear might’ve ventured to say he looked angelic. “Good boy,” they praised. “You did so well for me. How’re you feeling?”
“Oh God… oh God…” The angel continued to whimper. His whole body tingled with pleasure, muscles spasming, chest heaving. Fuck if he made embarassing faces. Now he saw why humans could be so desperate for this sort of thing.
“Hmm?” Bear crawled up beside him, kissing his jaw softly. “Are you alright?”
He turned his head and rested it against Bear’s. “Incredible…”
“I told you it would be different if you could experience it yourself.” They rubbed his chest for a moment, then handed him one of the bottles of water. He shakily sat up and opened it, chugging it greedily. Bear rubbed his thighs together, wondering if the angel would be up for another round. He took off his shirt, finding the warmth from The Metatron’s body to suddenly be unbearable.
“You feel like a star,” they joked. It seemed the angel didn’t hear them, as he was completely distracted by their chest. He kissed them deeply, gently pulling them into his lap.
“Thank you,” he murmured, lips diving lower to their neck. Just having them on top of him made his dick begin to twitch again.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Bear. I’ll never not love you. May I…?” His mouth lay gently against their chest, but did not move.
They scratched their nails through his hair. “Go ahead.”
Their head craned back as the angel’s mouth danced over their chest, pressing feather-light kisses before tentatively running his tongue around one of their nipples. They moaned against pressed lips, their hand swiftly moving to their clit. Between the feeling of The Metatron’s mouth, the pressure between their hips, and the solid form of his phallus against their rear, Bear’s mind began to spin.
“I need you,” they whined, raising up slightly, subtly shaking him off. “I need to know what you feel like… you don’t know how often I’ve fantasised about this.”
The angel placed his hands on their hips. “I think I do,” he responded lowly, his eyes deep with desire and affection. They grabbed the lube from the bedside table and poured a decent amount into their hand, slicking up The Metatron’s cock with swift, keen pumps before they positioned themself above him. They briefly glanced toward the ceiling, internally thanking God for Her mysterious choices, then slowly sank down.
They groaned with a pleasure that seemed entirely new to both of them. Bear was almost shocked at how good it felt to be filled by this “miracle dick,” mouth gaping open as he steadied his hands against the angel’s chest. It was the perfect size, the perfect shape, that even without movement, he shuddered in pleasure. The Metatron’s mind was filled only with Bear as their cunt squeezed him with an odd familiarity. The scent of their skin tortured him, the weight of their body as it rocked back and forth on top of him drove him wild.
“Yes— please— use me!” He begged in a strained tone. They leaned forward to catch him in an open-mouth kiss as they chased their own pleasure, sealing their bodies together with sweat and spit. The Metatron desperately rolled his hips to match their rhythm, babbling incoherently into their mouth as he practically short-circuited. Bear clasped his face in their hands as his arms folded over their back. For a moment, they were one being. A being of deep, personal pleasure neither had even dreamed of. The room was filled with breathy sighs and erotic groans, layered with the haze of sex.
Tears pricked The Metatron’s eyes as he came once more, gripping Bear tighter as they continued to ride him. When their own orgasm crashed upon them, they lay twitching against his chest. A puddle of rosy flesh had taken residence in the bed, unwilling to move as their breath slowly returned to normal. It seemed like ages before Bear lifted their head, placing a few lazy kisses to The Metatron’s chin and jaw. “Meta?”
“Hmm??”
“Please… don’t tell Jay & Bobby I said this… but that was the best Goddamn sex I’ve ever had.”
The angel shakily placed his fingers to his lips. “Mum’s the word,” he responded with a croak. They nestled their cheek against his chest.
“... Fuck I could go for a cigarette.” They sighed. “But we should probably take a shower. Do you think you can stand, honey?"
Reluctantly, they peeled themself off of him, a soft moan escaping them as they watched the angel’s seed pour out of them. The Metatron’s mind buzzed as he watched it himself. He reached up to pull them back into another kiss before letting them shuffle off the bed, slowly sitting up to follow them. Supporting each other, they slowly stepped into the bathroom across the hall.
“You are so beautiful,” The Metatron praised as Bear prepared the shower. “So gorgeous. I never thought I’d be doing something like this with a human… let alone doing it at all.”
“She makes surprises for all of us.” Bear smiled. Hand in hand, they stepped into the shower. The angel hissed as the warm water splashed against his now extremely sensitive skin. His partner tried his best to be gentle as he ran a washcloth down his body.
deadpool self-insert lore update/solidification... i've had five hundred million variations on self-inserts for wade But i think this is the most distinct it's gotten in awhile
dividers: (x), (x), (x), (x)
cws: themes of child abuse, unethical experimentation, themes of mental illness (including anxiety and depression)
Name: Caius Heavenly Wilson
Aliases:
Caius Heavenly Moreau (formerly)
Corey Wilson
The Raven
Plague (certain timelines)
Identity: AFAB. Genderfluid Transsexual. They/It/He (predominantly). Predominantly but not strictly attracted to men and masculine individuals.
Birthday: December 24th
Age: Mid 20s
Occupation: Anti-hero Vigilante, Freelance Mural Artist
Associations:
X-Men (formerly)
Deadpool
X-Force (occasionally)
Relationships:
Wade Wilson/Deadpool - Husband, best friend
Logan Howlett/Wolverine - Off-and-on ally, casual sexual relationship
Charles Xavier/Professor X - Ex-mentor, strained relationship
Other Marvel Heroes - Vague acquaintances
Dr. H. Moreau - Adoptive father, deceased, abusive relationship
Seth Flagg - Adoptive brother, off-and-on ally
Personality:
Deeply insecure and deflects by typically keeping to themself
Usually bottles up their emotions because they heavily affect their powers, often leading to extreme outbursts when the pressure becomes too much
Tends to be exhausted due to the unhealthy ways they cope with their problems; Very obviously traumatised and not going to a therapist about it
Cares about others more than themself, though this is not always obvious with how aloof they can act
Yearns for a simple life but feels obligated to use their powers to help those that can’t help themselves
Creative/artistic, their mural painting job is one of the only things that helps them drift away from their mental anguish
Powers:
Shapeshifting; strictly animal shapes (real and mythological) or unstable, amorphous blobs, always distinctly recognisable by being all black with white eyes (similar to how DC’s Beast Boy’s shapes are always green)
Speech duplication; can mimic any human/humanoid voice once heard - they are so good at this that they can convincingly conjure a conversation between multiple people with their voice alone
Minor clairvoyance; they will have flashes of the future, but they are often too detached to make sense of in the moment
Mutant sturdiness; takes more than a few punches, slices, or bullets to put them down
Background
Birth: December 24th, 19XX - An unnamed child is born to a poor couple in a small Midwestern town. Unable to care for them themselves, the child is given up for adoption. The child is nicknamed “Dove” and spends a few years in the foster care system before finally being adopted at the age of four by a scientist named Dr. H. Moreau. Moreau renames the child to Caius Heavenly and relocates them to the remote woodlands of New England.
Childhood: Caius grew up enduring constant supervision and experimentation within Moreau’s compound, alongside a plethora of other children and subjects. Moreau’s goals were to “improve” the human race, combining human DNA with that of animals and putting his subjects’ bodies through intense physical tests in an effort to force start any latent mutant genes they may have.
Caius was chosen as they had been born in a town plagued by radiation problems; as such, Moreau felt they had strong potential to develop superpowers. The experimentation on Caius as a child was rather mundane, but as they would grow up, the violence and invasiveness towards them would increase drastically.
Teenhood: Caius was around fourteen when Moreau decided they were showing the most promise among his “children,” leading to an unwavering focus on them. Caius was the only subject in Moreau’s compound that was treated with some semblance of normalcy between rigorous experimentation sessions. Caius was afforded their own room in Moreau’s mansion, was dressed in nice clothes, ate (mostly) well, and was given a lot more freedom compared to their “siblings.”
This was when Caius’ powers started to develop more outwardly, starting with his speech duplication and clairvoyant abilities. Moreau took particular interest in their clairvoyance and tried to force it to be stronger, but his methods may have actually caused its weakening. Caius’ shapeshifting abilities began to develop a year later.
It took a considerable amount of time for Caius to consider that a world existed beyond Moreau and the compound. One of his siblings, Seth, managed to momentarily escape, but was ultimately captured and returned by Moreau’s employees. He went on to tell the other subjects about his brief taste of the outside world and inadvertently helped Caius realise that they no longer wished to remain in the compound.
Escape: Shortly into Caius’ seventeenth year, authorities raided Moreau’s compound. Unwilling to let his work be “misconstrued,” the scientist initiated his emergency protocol and attempted to blow up the compound, along with all of his notes, employees, and victims inside. The event killed a majority of those on the premises, but among the small number of survivors was Caius, who ran off to try and figure out how to live life.
Caius learned about Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters and fled to the X-Mansion, seeking refuge. There, Caius was taken under the wing of Professor X himself as they acclimated to a life outside of the compound.
X-Men Training and Ejection/Resignation: Caius trained as an X-Man for three years, taking on the alias of The Raven for their inclination towards the bird as their favourite animal form. When expected to actually perform in a heroic scenario, however… Caius had a severe panic attack that nearly cost the lives of both one of their team members and a civilian. Due to this, Caius never actually became an official X-Man. As Cyclops was leading their first mission, he was the one to give the order that Caius was not ready to be a superhero. They doubled down on that by resigning from the X-Men program altogether, despite others’ opinions on the matter, choosing to instead pursue the life of your average day-to-day New Yorker.
Meeting Deadpool: Though Caius’ first encounter with the infamous Merc with A Mouth may’ve been a complete coincidence, Wade was, somehow, astutely aware of who they were— in regard to their brief history with the X-Men, at least. Beguiled by their “anxiety-ridden charm,” Wade began making any excuse to pop up in Caius’ life, and even convinced them to give anti-heroing a try; they didn’t need to live dully just because they couldn’t live up to the standards of the “greater” heroes.
Wade was Caius’ first true friend in a post-Moreau world, and eventually, his first lover as well. Despite the many issues between them, it is decidedly better for them to have each other than to not, and they even ended up married. The Raven can now often be seen joining Deadpool on contracts/adventures, even if they may not participate in as much of the action as their companion.
"The Fizz" was a proposed mascot for Faygo Beverages Inc. that, despite thorough development, was never put into use.
Created in the late 1990s, The Fizz was intended to market to the "Juggalo" crowd, ushering in a surprisingly edgy rebrand to Faygo's typically wholesome advertising campaigns. This unheard of edginess was ultimately why The Fizz was rejected by the brand's creative superiors.
The Fizz's development went on long enough that a storyboard for a commercial pitch had been created.
After the abandonment of the mascot, all material regarding them was considered lost to time, until original design concepts were found by an unsuspecting lost media enthusiast at an estate sale. The character has now become a beloved figure of more niche corners of the internet.
Notes on the mascot's personality reveal an energetic, party-loving figure. The commercial storyboard depicts them arriving to a bland and deserted house party to "fizz things up" with a pack of Faygo Moon Mist. The second they open a can, the house fills up with raucous guests. The host thanks The Fizz for saving his party and the two clink their cans together in cheers.
The Fizz's intended catchphrase appears to be, "This party just got Fizzed up!" but it is unknown if this would've remained had they been officialized. A sketch on one of their design sheets depicts them flipping the bird and saying, "This $#!? is Fizzed up!" implying the artists were aware of how vulgar their catchphrase sounded.
divider
lore for my s/i that i ship with ronald mcdonald!!! ( ≧ᗜ≦)
beyond this sort of "realistic" background, i imagine in the world they live in mascots function similar to how toons function in roger rabbit 👍
however there's also the added lore of how memory gives these mascots life, so fizz is kind of existing on borrowed time... the moment that small niche of internet people starts moving on from thinking about them, they're in danger of literally fading away :o(
@coffipool you commented on my post wanting to hear about other people's ships saying i gotta talk about mine first so. idk if this is what you had in mind but here's some lore i can share (light-hearted)
Ship: Corey Meeks x Sweet Tooth, Corey Meeks x Calypso
Word Count: 1162
Summary: Last episode rewrite for now, mostly because this is the one that has been plaguing my brain the most. Also more of a partial rewrite than a full rewrite since I didn't actually get to the dance part of the episode lol. CWs for suggestive themes.
divider credit: @uzmacchiato
“Wait, did you say ‘Wintertime Solstice Promenade??’ I’ve always wanted to do a prom episode but I never got the chance, but I’ve seen every one!” Sweet Tooth announced excitedly once Stu had finished reading the letter. Every driver had awoken to the same news and the same beautiful, handmade trunk: Calypso was preparing them a party. “I’m gonna own the dancefloor! Like Carlton Banks in The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, ain’t that right, Harold? Ahh, my own little Jazzy Jeff…”
While the clown began looking through his own wardrobe for a suitable outfit, Corey approached the trunk. “Well, that’s… certainly something,” they fought a snicker as they withdrew a bright purple velvet suit, as well as a matching top hat. “I think these are for you, Stu.”
“Alright, I need opinions. Do I go ‘Cocktail Casual’ or ‘Transylvania Chic?’” Sweet Tooth asked, holding two suits up to his audience.
“I’ll go with… Transylvania Chic,” Stu tried as he weighed his own suit in his hands. Corey sucked his teeth in opposition.
“No, no, Cocktail Casual, it makes you look dapper.”
“You are so right, honeybuns,” Sweet Tooth praised, dropping the black vampiric suit to the floor. Stu sighed and turned away, wondering why he even bothered, while Corey turned back to the trunk to retrieve their outfit. They were surprised to find two, and not because Calypso had selected something for Sweet Tooth, but because it seemed he was giving them the freedom of choice. There was a black corset dress paired with a hot pink, faux-fur stole and a shimmering rhinestone choker, as well as a boxy, pale-pink suit paired with a Christmas tree-patterned tie. Corey bit their lip as they examined the offerings.
“How thoughtful,” they mumbled, flushed with numerous feelings. Grateful for Calypso’s consideration, the hum of his admittedly lustful feelings toward the enigmatic man, and concern over choosing the “right” option. He looked to Sweet Tooth, caught up in his own excitement about the evening ahead, and decided it wasn’t worth detracting from. They had until eight, right?
The evening seemed to arrive in a blink. It was 7:30 before Corey knew, and they still hadn’t decided what they were going to wear. Sweet Tooth and Stu were dressed to the nines. They wished they still had a phone, even if it was useless to them now… it would’ve been nice to capture the moment.
“You look so good, Toothy,” Corey praised, straightening Sweet Tooth’s bow tie. “All wrapped up for Christmas.” They smiled, wondering if their partner could tell how distracted they were.
“Thanks, pumpkin.” He pressed the teeth of his mask to their forehead. “So, what are you wearing?”
They avoided his gaze and casually gestured to their usual tracksuit. “Maybe just this, we’ll see.”
“What?! Nononono, you can’t just wear that, look at how underdressed you are compared to us! It wouldn’t be fair!” Sweet Tooth swiftly turned to his collection of suits, vainly looking for something to lend to his partner despite knowing they’d be swamped in whatever he’d give them.
“Didn’t you get something??” Stu asked, reaching to lift the remaining outfits from the trunk, only to get his hand slapped away.
“Not now, Stu,” Corey responded through clenched teeth, “Mind your business.” They then moved to put a hand on Sweet Tooth’s arm. “Why don’t you guys head on out and I’ll surprise you, alright?”
Sweet Tooth huffed, somewhat disappointed. He squeezed their hand in response. “Don’t leave me waiting, alright?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Save a dance for me.” Corey winked and ushered the boys out of the science room, sighing heavily as they closed the door behind them. They rested their forehead against the cool brick. “Fuck.”
At this point, they would’ve rather skipped the whole thing. Events like this weren’t really their forte. They turned to retreat into their “Cave of Love,” then gasped and backed into the wall as they spied Calypso sitting on a stray desk.
“So, you were thinking about skipping, were you?” Calypso asked casually. “I can’t imagine why, I thought you of all people would’ve leapt at the chance to let loose for a night.”
“Do you always mean to scare people when you show up, or is that just something you do for me?” Corey deflected, rubbing his rapidly pounding heart. Calypso smiled and Corey’s gut twisted, feeling strangely guilty for considering missing the party altogether. The tall, dark-haired man stood and took the dress and suit from the trunk, holding them out to Corey.
“I can see why it’s such a hard decision. You lean very feminine in your physical presentation, but beneath the pink velour, well, that’s a man’s heart if I ever knew one. Your partner will be wearing a suit, and so will his little friend. You could be a great entourage, all suits.”
Corey nodded, grey eyes darting between their options. They mumbled something that made Calypso’s grin grow wider. “What was that, Corey?”
“I said, easier to get fucked in a little black dress,” Corey swallowed after he responded, stepping forward. “And really, that’s what happens the second prom ends, right? Dance, snack, make stupid jokes, that’s all foreplay so you can get in somebody’s pants at the end of the night.”
“So it would seem. You want the dress, then?” Calypso held the dress further out and Corey snatched it from his hand.
“No peeking.” Corey waved his finger at Calypso childishly as he snuck around the back of the pillow fort. Calypso played along, covering his eyes with his hand as he resumed his seat on top of the desk, crossing his legs in complete relaxation.
Corey had barely gotten the dress on when a frustrated noise escaped him. The stupid corset ties. Why, oh why, did he pick the more complicated option? He rounded the fort once more. “Mind lacing me up, Mr. Calypso?” He presented his back to his host suggestively. For a moment, he believed the man had disappeared, then gasped when he was directly behind him. Calypso chuckled at how easy it was to startle them while their face burned.
“I must be fucking crazy,” Corey muttered as Calypso gently laced up the back of his dress. Calypso’s head hovered over Corey’s shoulder. They could feel his breath tickling their temple. He gasped again, forgetting to tell Calypso when things were tight enough and felt Calypso’s mouth close over his own. It was suffocating, yes, but it made Corey burn with desire. The kiss seemed to last an eternity before Calypso pulled away and loosened the ties to a more comfortable state.
“There we are,” he spoke as if nothing strange had occurred between them. “I’ll see you at the party.”
With that, Calypso disappeared, leaving Corey heaving as they secured the stole and necklace. Is this what Eve had felt when tempted by the Devil? Their knees wobbled as they made their way to the gymnasium.
afraid to say anything because my thoughts change every time the wind blows, but i'm actually really digging the idea of a halfling necromancer for my bg3 self insert
in lore they wouldn't have a specific class, but to get technical they're a wizard (school of necromancy)/monk (way of the open hand)/cleric (death domain/kelemvor* worshipper) -- wizard for the necromancer title and abilities, monk and cleric for lore reasons, and cleric also for healing abilities
*subject to change within their non-game related lore as i do a little more research on dnd/forgotten realms deities. technically kelemvor is the human deity of death and each of the races have their own death gods, so for a halfling it would be this urogalan guy -- i'm not even entirely sure if i want them to specifically be a death cleric tbh, even as a necromancer
i imagine prior to being abducted by the mindflayers, this halfling was part of a necromancer sect that had their own temple and largely lived outside of traditional faerunian society, studying their craft and abiding by whatever commandments this temple might've had; i think it probably had a lot to do with the rights of the dead and undead, funeral and burial practices, stuff like that
the halfling would've been a necromancer in training, making this adventure they've unwillingly been thrust into a true test of their current skill. i don't think they would've grown up in the temple they came from, but they've been a part of that community long enough that they're out of practice when it comes to interacting with outsiders, usually resulting in social awkwardness and bluntness.
over all, though, they would value peaceful interactions when possible and have a strong sense of justice, meaning they usually clash with personalities like astarion (they're usually too interested in making the morally correct decision for his tastes) and lae'zel (they're usually too "soft" for her tastes)
updates to my main The Shining self-insert/reaffirming their lore since it's been awhile
corey belle watson; great-great-great (etc etc, however many greats makes sense) grandchild of robert townley watson, the original founder of the overlook hotel
grew up largely detached from the family "legacy," and there wasn't exactly a fortune to be passed down by the time corey came around... not even a chance to inherit the hotel, considering how many hands it had passed through since watson's death
corey grew up as an "odd" kid, living in their own world and not making many connections with their peers. they were raised by their grandparents, which influenced them to have an easier time speaking with adults rather than fellow children. aside from their naturally introverted nature, another cause for their absence of friends was their odd powers, including telepathy and telekinesis; the shine.
corey did very well at keeping their psychic abilities hidden from their grandparents, but not always so from outsiders
corey took more of an interest in the overlook and their family history when they got older, eventually seeking work there; they would be hired as general staff, picking up slack, usually housekeeping work or waiting tables
for most of their residence at the hotel, corey held a neutral to wary relationship with its supernatural energy... it never outright sought to harm them, but it was never quite pleasant, either
aside from their supernatural experiences, corey's focus is mainly dedicated to their creative work, usually writing and photography. they haven't published any of their written pieces, but they do freelance photography to keep the lights on during the overlook's off season
in corey's timeline, jack and wendy divorced a year prior to jack seeking the caretaking position at the hotel; not wanting jack to do the job alone for liability reasons, ullman asked corey to join him for the winter, with the promise of a pay bonus for their trouble
the two started as complete strangers, but slowly grew fond of each other over the months... and if it weren't for corey, the hotel would've taken jack's soul for itself
