chartreuseorigami-fandoms

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i think strange and off-putting wylan is the best. you know how he is in those fanfictions where he just. stares. and creeps people out. in the inside, he's having ten different panic attacks, but on the outside it's all just big blue bambi eyes and an entirely unresponsive demeanor. things happen around him and he doesn't react. he doesn't move. he doesn't blink. he just stares. he's weird and there and that's it. jesper instantly needs him carnally and all he did was look at him blankly and ignore him from then on. nina finds him hilarious. matthias finds him a lil weird but also the most normal person in the crows. inej gives him a knife to protect himself but he's already got a whole lot of bombs hidden in his little gay satchel that he's told no one about and will bring out in the middle of a random fight where he will romantically lock eyes with jesper and then blow up a bunch of people. kaz glares at him and wylan just looks back without flinching so kaz hires him because how the fuck??? how??

idk i just love off-putting wylan he's my favorite

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Thalia's point of view must be so surreal because imagine the horror, the tragedy, and the cruelty, of dying... but then not. but you're not alive either. At least, not in the way you used to be. You're more or less caught, trapped, in this liminal state of being. You're still growing... but when you wake up you're not the age you should be. And suddenly, the little seven year old girl you helped protect and cared for and treated as your little sister is practically your age now. And your best friend, a boy that was a mere two years older than you is now a grown man, hardened and distorted by the very hate you saw the beginnings of. that you commiserated with.

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writing prompt game: any one you havent done yet and wanna do. i love these :)

also: if you'd prefer a specific one, that's cool! i just want to see, like, any that u havent done yet :)

Ooh! I wanted to do this one since I made the prompt list, so thanks for playing!

20. “Somebody’s in love!”

“Alright, I’ve got to go,” Wylan says, draining the last of his coffee and standing up from the table.

Jesper doesn’t let him get too far before reeling him in with a finger looped around each of his brace straps. He tugs him between his legs, letting his hands settle on his hips. “I’ll see you later?”

Nodding, Wylan says, “I’ll be back for dinner, although you’re welcome to swing by. If you have time…”

Whether he meant it to sound flirty or not, Jesper isn’t sure, but he raises a suggestive eyebrow anyway, tilting his head up for a kiss that Wylan willingly gives him.

“Bye, love,” Jesper says when they part, thrilled to discover the faintest pink dusting Wylan’s cheeks.

“See you later.”

Wylan is barely out of earshot when Nina makes a gagging noise. “Somebody’s in love,” she teases in a sing-song voice, and Jesper has never been more glad that a blush doesn’t really show up on his skin.

Jesper scoffs. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure,” Nina says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not like I can literally feel how crazy your heartbeat goes whenever you look at him.” She pauses, then, with a mischievous grin says, “And his when he looks at you.”

That gets his attention. “It does?”

“Ugh, men. You two are so besotted with each other it makes me sick.” Jesper gestures at her rudely with his middle finger. “So have you told him?”

Feigning innocence, Jesper asks, “Told him what?”

“That you love him, idiot. Because you should.”

Jesper drums his fingers anxiously on the table. In truth, he’s almost blurted it out so many times already, only catching himself at the last moment. “Waiting for the right time, I guess.”

“There is no right time,” Nina says, sounding a little sad. “I mean, who knows what tomorrow may bring?”

“I’m afraid I’ll scare him off,” Jesper admits, eyes fixed on the table.

Nina reaches over and places a hand on top of his. “You won’t, I promise.”

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inej: if we're dying tonight, donate my body to science.

inej: except my middle finger. that goes to tante heleen, got it?

kaz: mine goes to pekka rollins

wylan: give mine to my father

jesper: ☺️👍🫶🤩😊

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Pet peeve of mine is when Jesper/ others call Wylan “merchling” in fics before the Van Eck reveal

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Wylan: We are in that moment during metamorphosis when a caterpillar is neither a butterfly nor a caterpillar

Wylan: We are in the goo

Jesper: …Are you alright?

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Nina: You know, Jesper gives Wylan flowers all the time, I wish you’d do that too.

Mathias: Okay.

-later-

Mathias: -Gives Wylan flowers-

Wylan: ?? Thank? You??

Mathias: I am just as confused as you are.

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I don’t have a favorite couple trope—

*chaotic bisexual + snarky gay with family trauma*

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Wylan: Enough things have happened. No more things for a while. Thank you

Colm: …You alright, lad?

Wylan: No more things

Jesper: How about we go outside? Some fresh air?

Wylan: No things

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Nicholas Galitzine has made me start romanticizing men the same way I romanticize women

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wylan and the other crows

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wylan textpost pt. 3

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RWRB TEXT POSTS: PART 27

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The painful thing is that what saves the fledgling's life is that he looks like Wilbur.

Not when you give it more than a cursory look. Long pink hair, red eyes, a face so pale it reminds Phil of the morgues they visit for their investigations sometimes. The ones where a coroner swears they ended the day with one less corpse than they started with. All of those things are starkly different in this boy than they are in Phil's son.

And yet, for one fleeting moment when he entered the room and saw the teen cowering in the corner, he seemed so similar to Wilbur that it took Phil's breath away.

Something about the shape of his cheeks and nose, the lanky frame, or the way he folds his arms around himself in fright.

"Shit," Phil mutters to himself. Because there are no other words to describe the situation. Sometimes he has nightmares about one of his boys being turned. Comes with the territory really. You deal with the most fucked up creatures the darkness has made, and you start to fear losing yourself or a loved one the same way. 

But Phil has a plan.

It's deranged, and dangerous, and he knows he could be killed by the other hunters for it. But years ago he already came up with what he would do, should the curse ever strike one of his sons.

Phil could never kill them.

And looking into the eyes of this fledgling, snarling and hissing and one second away from throwing himself at Phil's throat if it weren't for the silver cross Phil holds out in front of him, makes him feel so deeply that he can't kill him either.

"What the fuck!" Tommy gasps behind him when he enters the room. Phil doesn't know if he can see it too.

"Give me a muzzle," Phil says.

"What?" Tommy asks, taking a step back. "Dad, we need to kill it, we-" He's pulling out his bow, the tips made of that same metal that will burn any vampire to ash, soaked in garlic.

"Give me a muzzle," Phil repeats, firmer.

Tommy might be his son, but when they're on the job Phil is his superior. He is a senior hunter and Tommy is a fourteen-year-old in training, he will do as Phil says. Slowly - as if hoping he'll change his mind - Tommy unclips the leather muzzle from his belt. It's one made especially based on Phil's design, for the rare occasions they need to apprehend a vampire for interrogation rather than outright killing it. Taking it, he shoves the cross into Tommy's hands instead. He starts to walk toward the fledgling.

"It's okay," Phil says, getting ahead of Tommy's questions. And maybe also partly in the hopes of calming the fledgling down a bit. He won't be able to move with a strong source of holy silver so nearby. "He was very recently turned, no more than a day ago. And there's no sire."

A sire would never leave their fledgling alone like this. Maybe even more than looking like Wilbur, the fact that he was abandoned has saved this little one's life. Phil pulls a knife from his pocket, drawing it over his own wrist. Tommy gasps. Phil ignores it. He allows a small trickle of blood to flow into the frozen fledgling's mouth.

Phil watches as the teen swallows it automatically, licking at his own lips. How he tastes it and savors it and instinctually feels drawn to it. And then Phil watches as the fledgling's eyes catch his own.

The fledgling relaxes instantly, going pliant. He chuffs, looking for comfort.

"How did you do that?" Tommy asks, perplexed.

Reaching forward to slip the muzzle onto the fledgling just to be sure, Phil smiles, helping him stand up. The fledgling leans on him, clings to them.

"When they're this young, they need a sire to function," Phil says. "Somebody to feed them and keep them safe."

Nobody ever said that sire had to be another vampire.

"Let's go before somebody catches us," Phil says. "We need to bring him home."

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modern au crows

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the crows as onion headlines:

Kaz:

Inej:

Nina:

Jesper:

Wylan:

Matthias:

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Crows as John Mulaney

Kaz:

Inej:

Nina:

Matthias:

Jesper:

Wylan: