howlingmod

[howlingmod]

Hello mod, may I request something cutesy for Skateboard x reader?

summary - skateboard x reader, reader is from blackrock and is described as being a little bit messed up from it (not detailed)

misc - hi i seen this request and got so excited i love skateboard ... 1million tripmine attack go

-Skateboard hadn't really been looking to make any new friends when he'd stumbled onto you. It'd been late at night and he was dead tired, having spent the entire day in the blistering heat of day. He was really just looking to go home when he'd seen you.

-It wasn't uncommon to see people lost in Playground, especially people from other regions. It was less common to see someone frantically pacing back and forth with a stuffed full suitcase and what was very obviously a Blackrock-style uniform talking about getting hunted for sport.

-Initially, the uniform had put him on edge. He phights Subspace and Hyperlaser all the time and he's seen plenty of people from there pass through Playground, and it wasn't often they had good intentions. There was something different about you, though, your panic didn't seem manufactured to draw someone in, it felt unnervingly genuine. Blackrock isn't exactly known for letting its residents easily slip out whenever they want. if you really were some kind of runaway, you definitely had reason to be freaking out.

-Against his better judgement, he approached you.

"Hey man, are you ok?" Skate asked cautiously, taking a few steps closer to you. He kept his distance, he wasn't sure what kind of gear you might have and he wasn't looking to phight right now. Your head had whipped towards him the moment he'd stepped into the alley, wide eyes darting over his figure. He certainly didn't look like the type to be affiliated with the faction. Besides, to be entirely honest, an alley was a pretty terrible place to hide. For any Blackrock authority with an itchy trigger finger (most of them, you noted bitterly), it was the perfect place to solve a runaway. "Hello...?" You blinked, remembering he'd asked a question. "O-Oh, um... Yeah I'm- I'm fine," you stammered, hastily smoothing yourself out and ripping your eyes away. Any attempt at looking casual was soaked in anxiety. "Right, Right," he didn't believe you at all, "You mind telling me what's up then?" You kicked at the ground a few times, scuffing up already worn workboots out in an attempt to shake your nerves. You couldn't meet his eyes for more than a glance. "I'd rather not." Skate paused for a few moments. Maybe it's exhaustion talking, but you really didn't seem like much of a threat. If you were trying to bait him into getting close, it seemed counterintuitive to be acting so guarded. This didn't feel like an elaborate scheme, it just felt like a genuine moment of crisis. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. "Listen I just- Do you need something? I really don't know why you're talking to me." You were struggling to keep your voice firm, but you couldn't afford to let your voice wobble over the edge and into tears. "Hey, just calm down. I wanna help you, ok?" This could have been a stupid move, but he took another few steps closer, one arm holding his board and the other raised in a show of pacifism, "I'm sorry if I was freakin' you out with all the questions. Do you have anywhere to go?" You bit the inside of your cheek, mentally debating if you really wanted to put this onto a stranger. On one hand, it was just humiliating for you. On the other, it was a risk, he might be playing nice now but he could sell you out in a heartbeat. "No." "Alright, well how about you come with me?" He was quick to clarify when you glanced at him, "You can stay with me until you find a place! Or, I could try and find some hotel nearby, I guess ..." He trailed off, talking more to himself than you. Part of you was screaming to run the other way, as far as you knew this guy had you totally figured out and was ready to use the situation to get whatever it was he wanted. He could blackmail you, rat you out, ruin every chance you have at a new life. You can't just pick up and keep running if he tries anything, this guy was clearly from here, far more familiar with the bustling city than you were. Despite all this- "Please."

-It was a pretty long adjustment period. Skate was a little too casual and open for your paranoid mind to comprehend and you were a little too guarded and mysterious for Skate to trust you fully. You were so unfamiliar with Playground's culture, the lively and crowded atmosphere was a stark contrast to the utilitarian lifestyle you were accustomed to. There was little you could do other than try and bully forward.

-It was the little things that made Skate warm up to you. You always insisted it was out of politeness whenever he'd confront you about how nice the place looked or how there was leftovers for him when he got home. You would get wrapped up in something and you would start talking to yourself, walking through all the different steps and alternatives in a long ramble under your breath. Despite the exterior you were putting up, there was clearly some life to you yet.

-Sometimes he would tease you about it, but he was surprisingly strategic. He'd annoy you just enough to get you to glare at him and then back off for a while, returning the favor by bringing home snacks and takeout for the two of you in an effort to draw out more of that humanity. Besides, you could really use the food. The day he noticed most everything you made for yourself was just whatever used the least amount of resources was the same day he shoved most of his portion over to you without a word.

-Neither of you really noticed how you opened up to one another. Slowly you two stopped sitting on opposite sides of the room until you spent nights laying on one another watching bad tv. Admittedly, he might've gotten the first hint at his crush for you the first time you fell asleep on him. Sure, it was just plain cute, but it meant something more knowing it was you, the same person who used to run off to go eat by yourself every night and stuck to the corners of a room.

-He noticed your quirks become more apparent, little references and phrases he'd never heard before suddenly littered your every word. You spoke more openly, though you still had a tendency of not talking unless he said something that absolutely called for it. He didn't mind, he was usually the more chatty one in his friendships anyway. He just liked getting an excuse to tell you about all the phights he's been in and all the (more lighthearted) things his gang was up to. At some points, the lines between fabrication and reality in his stories blurred for whatever reason. He didn't mind that either, so long as you were laughing or drawn in by what he was saying.

-You weren't into the idea of phighting yourself, it was just a little too much for you. Besides, even the idea of seeing Hyperlaser or Subspace again on the battlefield of all places made your stomach churn. Instead, he'd just gotten you into play wrestling with him. You were stronger than he'd been expecting, though he probably should've known you would be considering your background. He didn't have to take it easy on you, only really holding back for the sake of not breaking anything.

-It was cliche, but there was some time where you'd won and managed to shove him down and keep him there and all the admiration he' been building up for you overflowed and left him looking up at you with some dumb grin. You were smiling back, something you'd only recently really started doing again. He liked to think it was because you were comfortable here with him, you would agree.

"Hi." "Hey." He laughed again, a nervous habit you often poked fun at, "You're really pretty, you know that?" You'd burnt up at that, laughing a little yourself as you stared down at him, "Where's this coming from?" "I dunno, just been thinking it." "You're weird." "Do you like me weird?" You snorted, halfheartedly swatting him one more time before pushing yourself back up. "Of course." "That's good, I like you weird too," the moment he'd finished his sentence, you were already pouncing on him again.

[howlingmod]

hello hello! I've never requested stuff before so i hope I'm doing this right lol, I'm wondering if i can request something tender and fluffy for follower sword x reader?

i just wanna hold that man in my arms bro, and your writing is just so peak

summary - follower sword x reader hcs. ur both phighters, uninetionally a little aut4aut coded woops

misc - thank you so much ! im glad you enjoy my writing .. smiles .. apologies if this is a little lackluster or inaccurate, this beast is weird. also yay first request !

-To say dating Sword can be a little unconventional is an understatement. More than once have people shot you a look once you told them who your partner is. Regardless, you wouldn't have it any other way and neither would Sword.

-Usually, people are confused as to how you guys got together in the first place. He's not exactly a social butterfly and he definitely comes off as threatening to most people, but there's no dramatic story to be found here, unfortunately. You just met him during a phight like most other people.

The match had been close, both teams were neck and neck for the point by now. It was a mad dash to get on the point or die trying, leaving more than a few people to try and make a run for it before falling to the other team the moment they were within a few feet. Every route lead to the same choking point, funneling everybody into a sea of flying bullets and swinging blades. Eventually, you noticed the crowd begin to thin as several people traded or finally picked someone on the other side off. If there was ever an opening, this was it. Stealing away from the corner you'd hidden in, you ran for the point, just barely dodging stray attacks before your feet touched the objective. The timer resumed in your teams favor, much to the other teams frantic irritation. A few of your teammates had bullied onto the objective just after you, helping fend off the incoming vigor of the enemy team in a last bid for the win, but it still wasn't enough. One got picked off, then another, and then another after that, then it was just you again. They'd gotten picks of their own and one had traded, but it still left you outnumbered. Given the exhaustion curling up your spine to lay heavy in your head and the dread of an inevitable loss hanging off your hands, you weren't winning this. Someone on the other team pushed towards you. You were slow on the uptake, pulling your gear just a few seconds too late through the fog of weariness. Practically in slow motion, you watched them reel back to swing, made to block it yourself, and a pale blade stick itself in the ground just between you two. With hands already raised, quickly identifing the blade's source, you instead made to cover your eyes before the flashing light could blind you. Where the once constant growl of battle had become ringing in your ears, there was silence. Peeking out behind your arms, there was nobody. It wouldn't last long, you knew that, but you finally felt as though you had a moment to breathe. Just a few seconds left. You could make out careful footsteps behind you, leaving you to whip your head around to the source. Instead of Shuriken or Scythe popping out to break the peace, you saw Sword. You hadn't seen too much of him that match, seemingly being focused on different areas (bitterly, you thought of asking him why he hadn't been helping you with the objective, but a better part of you decided against it.), but you were thanking the Heights he was on your team now. "Thanks for the help, you're a life saver," You hummed, smiling at him. He didn't return the gesture, hell, you aren't even sure he looked at you, given the lack of pupils. Faintly, you picked up some little grunt he made, a show of acknowledgement. That was enough for you. You turned back forwards, vaguely noting how he stopped next to you. Maybe he was tired too? You're sure he was focusing on trying to beat the other team into the ground for the match, so you wouldn't be surprised. The timer reached its peak, signalling your team's win. Neither of you made a sound, even as you picked up on your other teammates celebrating off in the distance. The air stayed peaceful, weight lifting off of you as you stood side-by-side. Nothing more needed to be said.

-Afterwards, you did your best to return the favor, though he rarely needed it. You would provide support in the ways you could, pointing a healer in his direction when he was in rough shape and picking off extra opponents if he was outnumbered. Where you'd expected to just help him out once or twice and consider the IOU paid off, he would return the aid right back. Without thinking about it, you two started to hover around eachother.

-He wasn't sure why he did it, just that, at some point, he began to think of you more than he needed to. It was good to know where your teammates were and what their status was, but he certainly didn't need to be worrying this much over an individual. Nevertheless, he would still check in on you, sending long glances your direction whenever you were nearby as a quick assesment of your condition.

-Even before matches you two would find eachother, sitting quietly as you two prepared for the upcoming phight. Sometimes, you would ramble to him as he listened wordlessly, only humming every now and then to let you know he was still paying attention (a habit he'd picked when his silence had lead you to trail off in the past).

-The first time you'd ever mentioned hanging out with him outside of a phight, he'd declined, if only out of unfamiliarity. He wasn't used to getting such direct, personal invites to be apart of other people's lives like that. It stuck in his head for a few days, the question of why you'd thought to pick him speficially rattling around in the back of his head.

-Eventually, he would be the one to invite you out. It wasn't anything special and, in all honesty, it was probably just to walk around. Nothing all that entertaining, but he didn't care about the activity as much as he did having more time to hear you talk.

-Likewise, the confession (after a long time of him sorting out his feelings, he still didn't totally understand how he felt once you two got together but he knew you were greatly important to him), was pretty mundane. You're probably the one to do it since he's not super familiar with the concept, at least not beyond a surface level understanding of what it looks like for other people. To you two, it's an intimate moment: you trust him enough to open yourself up to rejection and he cares about you enough to make clear he's interested in you as well. To others, it's a very blunt, robotic moment on his part contrasting to your obvious sentiment. Oh well.

-Anyhow, as for how you to interact once you get together, it's more of the same. A lot of the time, you two are just existing with one another. It would come off as uncaring if it weren't for him seeking you out just to be in your company, even if you're not interacting in any way. He just likes having you there, you make him feel whole in a strange way, something about your presence makes him feel like some wrong has been righted.

-He's a little nosy about your hobbies. If you're reading a book he wants you to tell him about it, if you're making something he wants to know how you're doing it, so on, so forth. He doesn't know why, he just likes to know everything he can about you. If we allow the more sentimental wording to fall, you're like a specimen he needs to learn about and put under a microscope, lovingly.

-His love language, other than time, is gifting things to you, actually. Most times it's odd trinkets he comes across that remind him of you, but its the thought that counts. He takes the utmost care for them to not get ruined before he can gift them to you and you can just barely notice him stand a little straighter when you happily take them. If you have a spot for all the things he's given you, he admires it with pride every time, blame it on bird instincts.

-He often just calls you by your name, he just doesn't think any nickname compares to your actual name. That's the title of the person he loves, what else could compare?

-It takes him a while to warm up to physical affection, so give him some time with that. Once he's settled into a relationship with you, he's a lot more open to any touch you give. He most enjoys whenever you lean on him, he enjoys being someone you can count on for support and comfort. On his part, he's a sucker for you holding his face in your hands, something about it just feels so tender. The way your hands cradle his head just feels so soothing.

-The first time he says 'I love you,' is a whisper, but don't let that fool you into thinking their meaning is any smaller. It's a total declaration of his heart to you, how could he not mean it when you're the light of his life?

[howlingmod]

Warm

summary - katana x reader. reader is described to have a broken horn and it's implied to have been some sort of big deal but it's not super detailed

wc - i dunno again. woops

misc - heretic katana ily ... also sorry for any mistakes i love writing tired on a whim. smiles

It was late. The sky had long since turned pitch as the rain continued to pour on and on. Crossroads had fallen quiet for the night, rain driving passerby indoors and locking them inside for the evening. The silence was broken only by the constant pittering of the rain, tapping on the window sill and running down the sides of your apartment building.

Katana couldn't complain. While he stayed at your place rather frequently, he had yet to adjust to the louder bands of night owls that often roamed at this time. It'd keep him up, picking up the faint noise of conversation and movement. It'd keep you up, if only because of his stiffness. The hustle and bustle of the city had long become white noise to you, leaving tonight with a strange absence the rain couldn't fill.

That was probably why the both of you were still awake at this point, even if only partially so. Your body felt heavy, lead weights accumulating in your limbs to keep you firmly planted as you were. You didn't have a huge bed, but you two were still far closer than you needed to be, tangled together and facing one another.

A hand trailed from your arm up to your face, warmth bleeding into your skin before slowly ebbing back out. From there, it travelled further upwards to the base of a horn, left fractured and badly cauterized.

After an injury, horns can eventually grow back, so long as the trauma hasn't completely destroyed the tissue. By all means, you should've been able to grow yours back, but not everything turns out as it should. There had been too much blood loss, too much sensitive tissue and nerve endings left exposed that was sure to get infected in the mess. If your horn was to get infected in such a vulnerable state, you likely wouldn't be here. And so, as opposed to the fine, smooth edges you once had, there was now a mess of shards and sinew firmly covered by synthetic material affixed to the remaining pieces.

Nerve endings had been burned off, but even the faintest touch still resonated deep in the hollows and grooves of your horn. Ordinarily, you would flinch back, grab at your horn until you could numb it again with enough stimulation, but instead you laid still. You couldn't see his and moving, but you could feel him exploring the cracks left over.

You could feel the featherlight touch of a fingertip tracing the spidery splinters in the surface till they faded back into the thick of the material. You could feel it roll back up to the division of synthetic material and your own- if his touch hadn't been careful before, it was near paranoid now, just barely grazing the surface for fear of hurting you. After following the groove all around the reachable exterior, it fell back down to tracing along the length of it, long cracks and imaginary shapes alike.

You could barely make out the glint of light on his eyes and exposed teeth. You could just barely find the roughened skin and dense gums, could just see the edges of where once smooth skin had been ripped open to leave his insides bare. Your hand was too heavy to move, too heavy to even think about moving it, so you settled for tracing along the edges with your eyes.

He didn't like his face, that much had been made clear to you. To him, it was a reminder of awful times, of pain and torture he would never forget, mentally or physically. To you, it was his face. It was all you had ever known him to look like. The only Katana you knew was the scarred one, the one with leathery skin and bad memories. Likewise, he had never seen your original set of horns, perched proudly on the top of your head like a crown, he only knew the asymmetrical ones, one ripped apart while the other stayed as a reminder of what they were supposed to be.

You had been hesitant to ever let him get close to it, turning your head away to hide it whenever he even so much as glanced at it. With time, with bearing his own scars to you, you'd grown more comfortable with it. He still remembers the day you first touched the lip of your shorter horn to one of his, how neither of you had said anything. Neither of you felt the need to, the message had already been given.

"I love you."

Your throat felt dry, had you really said that? You figured you must have, if only beause he had smiled, skin pulling alongside his lips at your words.

"I love you too."

[howlingmod]

also while i am here ... reminder my inbox is open. smile emoji

[howlingmod]

also while i am here ... reminder my inbox is open. smile emoji

[howlingmod]

Warm

summary - katana x reader. reader is described to have a broken horn and it's implied to have been some sort of big deal but it's not super detailed

wc - i dunno again. woops

misc - heretic katana ily ... also sorry for any mistakes i love writing tired on a whim. smiles

It was late. The sky had long since turned pitch as the rain continued to pour on and on. Crossroads had fallen quiet for the night, rain driving passerby indoors and locking them inside for the evening. The silence was broken only by the constant pittering of the rain, tapping on the window sill and running down the sides of your apartment building.

Katana couldn't complain. While he stayed at your place rather frequently, he had yet to adjust to the louder bands of night owls that often roamed at this time. It'd keep him up, picking up the faint noise of conversation and movement. It'd keep you up, if only because of his stiffness. The hustle and bustle of the city had long become white noise to you, leaving tonight with a strange absence the rain couldn't fill.

That was probably why the both of you were still awake at this point, even if only partially so. Your body felt heavy, lead weights accumulating in your limbs to keep you firmly planted as you were. You didn't have a huge bed, but you two were still far closer than you needed to be, tangled together and facing one another.

A hand trailed from your arm up to your face, warmth bleeding into your skin before slowly ebbing back out. From there, it travelled further upwards to the base of a horn, left fractured and badly cauterized.

After an injury, horns can eventually grow back, so long as the trauma hasn't completely destroyed the tissue. By all means, you should've been able to grow yours back, but not everything turns out as it should. There had been too much blood loss, too much sensitive tissue and nerve endings left exposed that was sure to get infected in the mess. If your horn was to get infected in such a vulnerable state, you likely wouldn't be here. And so, as opposed to the fine, smooth edges you once had, there was now a mess of shards and sinew firmly covered by synthetic material affixed to the remaining pieces.

Nerve endings had been burned off, but even the faintest touch still resonated deep in the hollows and grooves of your horn. Ordinarily, you would flinch back, grab at your horn until you could numb it again with enough stimulation, but instead you laid still. You couldn't see his and moving, but you could feel him exploring the cracks left over.

You could feel the featherlight touch of a fingertip tracing the spidery splinters in the surface till they faded back into the thick of the material. You could feel it roll back up to the division of synthetic material and your own- if his touch hadn't been careful before, it was near paranoid now, just barely grazing the surface for fear of hurting you. After following the groove all around the reachable exterior, it fell back down to tracing along the length of it, long cracks and imaginary shapes alike.

You could barely make out the glint of light on his eyes and exposed teeth. You could just barely find the roughened skin and dense gums, could just see the edges of where once smooth skin had been ripped open to leave his insides bare. Your hand was too heavy to move, too heavy to even think about moving it, so you settled for tracing along the edges with your eyes.

He didn't like his face, that much had been made clear to you. To him, it was a reminder of awful times, of pain and torture he would never forget, mentally or physically. To you, it was his face. It was all you had ever known him to look like. The only Katana you knew was the scarred one, the one with leathery skin and bad memories. Likewise, he had never seen your original set of horns, perched proudly on the top of your head like a crown, he only knew the asymmetrical ones, one ripped apart while the other stayed as a reminder of what they were supposed to be.

You had been hesitant to ever let him get close to it, turning your head away to hide it whenever he even so much as glanced at it. With time, with bearing his own scars to you, you'd grown more comfortable with it. He still remembers the day you first touched the lip of your shorter horn to one of his, how neither of you had said anything. Neither of you felt the need to, the message had already been given.

"I love you."

Your throat felt dry, had you really said that? You figured you must have, if only beause he had smiled, skin pulling alongside his lips at your words.

"I love you too."

[howlingmod]

wallter and mannequin mark when alloy steel walks in

[howlingmod]

LIQUID SUNSHINE

summary - valk x reader , reader's also an idol .. smiles .. more valk pining than anything sorry

wc - i dunno ...

misc - very based on spltoon i wont even lie you are the ian bgm to his squid sistrs (< incomprehensible)

-Valk liked to keep a good eye on the music scene, seeing what everyone else was doing or if there were any new groups on the rise in crossroads- it's just exciting to him! He likes seeing how people innovate on trends and the styles that different artists bring to the table, and, from a business perspective, it's just good to know how the music scene's doing for flipside's sake ...

-He usually just kept an ear out on social media to see who everyone's talking about, and that's how he learned about you.

-You were a part of a band from one of the other regions, and apparently you guys were pretty popular there! He hadn't heard of you before, but it seems like you were just a well-kept secret, a hidden gem.

-It didn't take long for him to make plans to visit, see just how much of an idol you really were. He just wanted to make sure he got the full perspective, is all! (And, admittedly, he was just a little intrigued by some of the photos he seen ... he has eyes! Get off his case!)

-Needless to say, he was not disappointed. He made sure to visit when your band was supposed to be performing and he was decently surprised by the crowd that had formed. It was a smaller concert than he was used to (it's not easy being known by the grand majority of the inpherno ...), but everyone there seemed totally enthralled and happy to be there. You guys definitely had a big reputation for yourselves here, he was honestly a little sad it'd taken this long for him to find out about you guys ...

-Once the show was over, he made sure to try and talk to you all. He had to be careful about it, keeping his head down and sticking to the edges of the room, but he managed to get close without being recognized. After he quietly thanked the Heights for it being a night show (he wouldn't have been able to see the stage before getting someone shouting his name if it was daytime), he made his way over to you.

-You all seemed to be about even in popularity, none of you seeming particularly shafted or overhyped by your fans, but you'd been the one he heard about the most. (Though, that probably wasn't true. He probably heard about all of you the same amount and just paid the most attention when you were being focused on. Woops.) So, he figured it was only fair he tried talking to you.

The diguise he hastily threw together felt just a little silly now. Sure, it'd worked pretty well so far, but he was really starting to doubt that it would work up close like this. I mean, it's not exactly easy to hide horns like his and his fake voice-persona-mix was really starting to fall apart.

"Where'd you say you're from?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Crossroads, I just wanted to see one of your guys' shows in person, they seemed pretty fun from everything I saw online," he answered honestly, smiling in a gesture you returned with your own. "Aw! I really hope you liked it then, I hope we were worth the travel..." "Oh, for sure! You guys are super talented! You've got such a unique style, I can definitely see how you pull such a big crowd." Ok, maybe he was laying it on thick, but he was being genuine! He was impressed! Whatever! You laughed at that, shifting in place and glancing off to the side, face feeling warm. "Thank you, I'm just glad people like our work, we put a lot of effort into it." He hummed in response, a mix between acknowledgement and shared opinion. Clearly, even if you two had very different scenes, you were still pretty alike, at least in how you viewed your work. A silence fell after that, just barely ebbing into uncomfortable before he shot up. "Oh, I totally forgot!" He started fumbling for something in his bag before hastily pushing over a vinyl he'd got before heading over here and a market he'd thrown in his bag only a little shamefully, "Would you mind?" You smiled at him, gingerly taking it from his hands, "Not at all, who should I make this out to?" He blanched, biting the inside of his lip hard. He hadn't thought of a name, at all. He stammered, glancing around the room quickly for some answer. Pen was so boring, Poster was obviously a lie, and he's not even entertaining Chair. You snickered, just barely failing to bite it back, "I'll just keep it general." His eyes shot back to you, silently letting out the breath he'd been holding, "Yeah, that works. Thanks." You waved your hand dismissively, "It's nothing, don't sweat it." You handed the vinyl back over to him, meeting his gaze again. There was a glimmer of something he couldn't quite name, perhaps because he was a little distracted by just how pretty you looked in this lighting. Sure, you'd been killer on stage, but it was different seeing you up close like this. Maybe he should've invested in closer seats ... Before he could think to bite his tongue, he was talking again, "You ever think about collabs?"

-He had a different kind of pep in his step when he got back to crossroads. He seemed to be in a constant state of distraction, always thinking about something or other enough to risk walking into walls a few times now. Sometimes he'd say it was music, some bar that he was stuck on. Othertimes, he'd just shake his head and say 'nothing,' before going back to staring off into space. Dom could see right through it, and while he couldn't read his mind, he figured it probably had to do with that person he kept seeing on his phone.

-Valk wasn't sure of where to go from here. He'd seen one of your concerts, he'd talked to you, even figured out you guys were open to working with other artists! Curiosity satiated, right? So then why were you still taking up so much space in his mind, often entirely seperated from your band and music?

-Should he have asked for your number? No, that would've been creepy. He knows more than well how fans can be about that sort of thing. Should he have just told you who he was, then? Ugh, that sounded so full of himself. Flipside might be famous, but that doesn't give him a free friendship card for everyone ever. He was pulling his hair out trying to figure out what he was missing here, what misstep he'd taken, by the time another concert came up.

-This one was different, rather than being a concert he and Dom performed at exclusively, this one had people from all around inpherno perform. It was a big deal, one that he was usually giddy about for weeks before. Seems like he really had been awfully distracted with how it slipped his mind ...

-He didn't have much time to mourn, however, when he noticed your band's name was on the list.

Before the show, there was a red carpet sort of ordeal. Musicians would show up dressed to the nines, flaunting their identity and background through their dresswear for everyone to see. It gave the public some nice photos to look at and some introductions to lesser-known artists with some of the impromptu interviews that cropped up with all the paparazzi. Plus, it now gave Valk an opportunity to talk to you again. It was hard to pull off his usually casual and relaxed demeanor whenever he'd pass photographers by, not wanting to deal with some big ordeal if he looked as nervous as he felt. Maybe you'd already walked? Where would you be then? Heights, what if you'd all pulled out last minute? Maybe you wouldn't even wanna talk to him anyway, did you think he was overhyped? Ugh, that was a whole new thing to worry about. What if he came off as pushy?- Just as he started to spiral, he'd caught a glimpse of familiar horns. Quickly turning to look, he'd seen you standing off in one of the staff-only areas, seemingly fixing up your outfit with all the fluffing and smoothing you were doing. He started over, minding his pace enough to not run over and freak you out. Whatever planned conversation starter he had on his tongue fell flat when you'd looked back at him. Your stage-wear had been perfectly translated to the event, dressed up enough to draw the eye but still retaining your usual sense of style enough to not come off as tryhardy. In shorter terms, you were a showstopper, a heartthrob- if his own heart's aching, fast beat was anything to go off of. "You look nice," he managed lamely. You took the weak compliment in stride, smiling as your hands finally left your top alone, "Thanks! You don't look half bad yourself." He smiled back at you, noticably relaxing, "Are you nervous at all?" "I mean, a little, but I think everyone gets a little bit of stage fright," you hummed, "it's always a little nerve-wracking, you just get better at managing it." "Huh, yeah, I can see that.." "What about you, are you nervous at all?" You shot him a look then, smile just a tinge more wry this time around. He straighted back up, subconsciously shifting in place as he laughed. "Ah, well, a little. It's different performing in front of a more diverse crowd, usually you just have to worry about people who already like your genre, but here you've gotta think about the variety of tastes in the audience," he hummed, steadily growing more comfortable as he talked. He might not be the best at talking to people he wants to impress (when did he start wanting to impress you?), but he considered himself pretty strong in his business sense. The greater mechanisms of being a musician came to him easier than making connections beyong shared interest. You gave a little noise of acknowledgement in response, falling quiet as you thought over his words. He could just barely hear the distant white noise of crowds chattering a room over the buzzing lights in here, fixing his gaze on some scuff on the ground for fear of staring. You suddenly shot up as the silence began to drag on a moment too long, turning your head back to him, "I almost forgot. You asked me about collabs at my concert," you started shuffling around your [ purse / pockets ], "I don't know if you were offering or anything, but if you were ..." you trailed off, holding out a small slip of paper to him. He didn't respond for a few seconds, staring blankly at the paper in surprise. Eventually, he rembered how to move his arms and speak, reaching out to take the slip from you, carefully unfolding it to reveal digits. "You uh... recognized me then, I'm guessing." "You have a pretty memorable face." He sucked in a breath through his teeth, pointedly ignoring the warmth crawling up the back of his neck, "Ah."

[howlingmod]

follow-up to Allusive !

summary - hcs + drabble continuation of allusive ... the ooc confession hath arrived. lampert x reader

wc - 1.5k

misc - sort of requested by @ra-bies . technically. (sorry for the @)

-Lampert did not actually tell you that night. Woops. He wanted to, and he really thought he was gonna! He knew if he didn’t just get it off his chest there was a pretty good chance he’d end up never telling you and agonizing over how he could for forever. Even then, though, he couldn’t risk blurting it out wrong and saying something entirely by accident. He would be mortified for life if he said something stupid after such a special moment between the two of you. So instead he just made up a story about something he saw at Rokea earlier that day he thought you’d find funny and then stared off into space for the rest of the night. Needless to say, he had to come up with something better, and soon.

-He’s really not sure of where to start. Sure, he knows the cliche romantic stuff people to do confess their feelings, but all of it feels a little … off. It’s just not something he would do, and he’s sure you would notice if he was doing something so wildly out of character for him, which runs the risk of making you uncomfortable or think he’s not being genuine and that’s the last thing he needs.

-So, he’s gotta figure out something you would understand. He thinks a lot about how you two normally hang out, all the places you tend to drag him whenever you’re off of work and have money to spare and the energy to go out. You’ve taken him to a couple of places near your work, a handful of small stores and a restaurant or two, but that’s just a little too casual, isn’t it? I mean, yeah, he had a lot of fun on those little outings with you, but they’re all right by your job. You see them every day– hell, you probably go visit them pretty often!

-You’ve taken him to a few more ‘special’ places, too. There was some clearing at a nearby park you’d showed him, flopping down on the ground to look up at the stars. There wasn’t anything super unique about the place, but Lampert didn’t really remember it for that anyway. He mostly just remembers talking with you there, how you went on tangent after tangent about customers or random conversations you overheard or something you remembered from when you were younger. He didn’t have too much to add, his day had been pretty normal and his childhood was a lot of just him looking at furniture, but it was nice. He liked hearing you talk, the sound of your voice, how much fun you were having. You’d gone long enough that your voice was still scratchy the next day, much to your chagrin. Despite the sore throat, he was sure you had fun too, since you talked about going back there with him someday soon.

- … But that also felt pretty cliche. I mean, yeah, that was a pretty special experience to him, but a “beautiful, starry clearing” felt just tropey enough to make him cringe. He might as well bring a bouquet of roses and a handwritten letter.

-So, that left him with one other idea: your place. Sure, it seemed pretty lame– It’s your house. You go there every day and spend a whole lot of time there, but it felt like the only place really unique to the two of you. You two have spent plenty of nights watching bad movies on your tv or going on about this and that over drinks. Besides, that’s where he was planning on telling you in the first place, wasn’t it?

-He would’ve considered his place, but he didn’t really wanna risk some random passerby overhearing such a sensitive conversation, especially if you didn’t return his feelings. A fort in the middle of a store only has so much privacy, and he wasn’t sure you’d be a fan of the dark of the store after hours.

-Even with a location figured out now, he was a little apprehensive. He really didn’t wanna risk throwing out your guys’ friendship over unreturned feelings, but he also knew he couldn’t really make them go away and you would start to notice something’s up eventually. You probably wouldn’t cut him off just because you didn’t feel the same, but the fact it was a ‘probably’ and not a ‘definitely’ felt like it may as well have been an outright no.

-Either which way, he had to give it a try. If you didn’t feel the same, that was fine, he’s sure he could still be your friend. Hopefully. If you did feel the same, though, then … yay. He’s not really sure how to put into words how happy he’d be.

-You’d invited him over as per usual and the night had been pretty normal for the most part. You two had dinner and were just sitting around talking, but he’d decided to let you take the lead in conversation tonight, since he had to gather his confidence to say this right.

“… You alright, man? Been pretty quiet,” You hummed, looking over at your friend. He’d been sitting pretty stiffly, now that you looked at him. He was on the other side of the couch, facing forward with his hands folded on his lap and looking right ahead, though his eyes had shifted over to look over at you once you addressed him.

“Huh? Oh, uh … yeah, I’m fine. But uh … could I talk to you about something?” He asked, uncharacteristically anxious. That was enough to make you sit up straighter, already dreading what was to come.

“Oh, yeah. For sure. What do you wanna talk about?” You hoped you sounded normal enough, it was a little hard to get those words out through the worry tightening arond your throat.

He seemed to pick up on it, though, efforts be damned. He’d suddenly turned to you then, fully shifting to face you and waving his hands, “Don’t worry! It’s nothing bad! I probably should’ve worded that a little better, sorry, it’s just sort of … big? Complicated? I dunno.”

You relaxed at that, but still kept an edge of uncertainty, unsure of where this was going. There was a pause for a few moments, each of you waiting for the other to say something more. “Well … you gonna tell me about the big news or what?”

He smiled at that, scoffing a laugh, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. But … do you remember when I asked you if I could tell you something?” He paused, looking at you. You stared back blankly, lips pulled into a straight line. “That one night? The one where you got those wires for me? I followed it up with some like, dumb story or whatever.”

“Oh! That night! Yeah, I remember, what about it?”

“Well,” Lampert took a breath, looking off into the side and folding his hands together again, “I wasn’t really … honest, about what I wanted to tell you.”

“I didn’t just wanna tell you about some stupid guy at Rokea,” he continued, leaning back against the arm of the couch, pulling his legs up to fully mirror your position, “I was thinking about something else and just kinda panicked once I’d actually said something.”

You blinked at him, and he took another breath, tensing up as he physically braced himself for the point of no return. “So, I was actually kinda thinking about … ugh, how do I say this? Us? Like, ugh, no, that sounds so …” he trailed off, rubbing at his eyes hard, “I don’t know, I just … I felt so safe, y’know? I don’t really like other people touching me, much less sticking their hands in me like that, but I didn’t mind it when it was you.”

“I always kinda felt like that, I guess, but I just never really noticed it until then. And it’s not just that, either. You’ve always been there for me, you’re funny even if you’re being annoying, you always think about me and you’ve done so, so much for me and I just–” he sighed, letting go of held breath, “I really appreciate you, I like having you in my life. You mean a lot to me.”

He risked looking at you then, meeting wide eyes, “You can say no if you want to, of course. I don’t wanna lose you over some stupid confession. But … if you’d want to, I’d like to go out with you.”

You didn’t respond for a few seconds, blinking at him. Okay, clearly you didn’t feel the same. That’s fine, okay, he can deal with that. He should say something, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“Lampert I’ve been dropping hints for like weeks now.”

“Huh?”

“Dude,” you were laughing now, badly biting them back, “Do you think I invite anyone over this much? Why do you think I took you to that one stupid, fancy cafe a while ago?”

“I- Well,” Lampert stammered, struggling to wrap his head around what you were saying, “How was I supposed to know that?! You never said anything!”

You threw your head back, laughing harder now. If he liked you any less, he would be walking away right now. Instead, he was sitting and watching you laugh at him like an idiot. “Man! Whatever, who cares. But yes, I’d like to go out with you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You mean a lot to me too, if that wasn’t obvious.”

…

“But for the record, I knew you were bullshitting that story in the first place.”

“Oh lay off!”

[howlingmod]

Allusive

summary - Lampert has a circuitry problem. You help him. You're both normal about it.

wc - 3.2k

misc - crossposted from ao3 , ignore how ooc this is i was very tired and didn't want to check the wiki a bunch ..

“You want me to what?”

If you were any less shell-shocked, you probably could’ve come up with a better response. A ‘Oh, could you run that by me one more time, my dearest of dear friends?’ or ‘Would you mind repeating that? I just need to make certain I heard you right,’ was the next thing on your tongue, for sure.

“Listen, you don’t have to if you don’t want to– I can figure it out, find someone else to. I just figured I should ask and see if you’d be willing before I looked somewhere else and-” Lampert started to ramble, making vague gestures with his hands as his words all stumbled over one another in their rush to get out.

“Dude, just gimmie a second,” you cut them off, half-muffled behind the hands trying to rub some coherency into you, “I never said no, I just … wasn’t really expecting that.” ‘Wasn’t really,’ was an overstatement. Maybe even more than an overstatement, more like a huge-massive-hyper-statement, in your opinion. This was about the last thing you’d expected Lampert to be asking for at the early hours of your shift. There was no, ‘Where’s your replacement cables?’ or ‘When was the last time you guys dusted?’ Sure, you didn’t hate some surprises on your shift, it kept the day interesting, after all, but this was an entirely different kind of surprise.

“I mean, like,” you started hesitantly, only now dropping your hands back to the counter with averted eyes, “I could give it a try but, I’m not really an electrician or anything. I mean, I know how to fix some stuff but I don’t really work on uh …” You made a fluttery, trailing motion with your hand.

“Sentient light-fixtures?”

“Yeah. Yeah that’s uh, that’s a little out of my usual work.”

“I assumed as much, but it’s not like I’m just gonna tell you to ‘figure it out,’ and have you dig around in me,” Lampert laughed, some short little exhale that tugged at your heartstrings. You were surprised he was being so lighthearted about this, but you were also surprised he’d asked you in the first place, so maybe you were just thoroughly mistaken on your assesment of your friend.

You stammered for a few moments, struggling to find the words. Part of you wanted to just throw caution to the wind, to say yes. You might not be a surgeon, but you’re also a lot more familiar with electrical parts than you are organs. Another part of you said throwing caution to the wind when ‘caution’ was ‘I don’t want to destroy my friend’s body,’ was a very stupid thing to be thinking. “I get that, I just … Do you really trust me with this, man?” Your hands were digging into your head now, physically holding yourself together.

He paused for a moment at that, taking a breath. While, normally, this sort of hesitation would be enough for you to instantly call it off, you knew to give it a little longer. Well-spoken as he was, you’d talked with Lampert long enough to know that converting genuine, sincere thoughts to words could be hard for him.

“I’d say so, yeah,” he’d shrugged, hand coming up to fidget with his pull switch, “I’ve known you for … however long now, and it’s not like you’re a total newbie to this sort of thing.”

You sucked in air through your teeth, eyes unfocusing as you thought this over one more time. On one hand, you wanted to help your friend out and you knew you’d bend over backwards for him. On the other, you really weren’t sure you wanted to risk pulling the wrong wire the wrong way and frying him. You’d spared him a glance, meeting his awaiting gaze for only a few seconds. You knew you could say no, that he’d assure you it was fine and then find someone else. The problem was, you didn’t really want to tell him no. A sigh scratched its way out of your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Ok.”

“Really?” He’d perked up at your response, chain left swinging as he let go of it in surprise.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a go,” you muttered, “But you have to promise me you’ll help me out, I usually don’t have to worry about hurting people’s radios or anything.”

“Yeah! Of course, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, Lampert smiling to himself while you worked on clearing your head. You still weren’t totally sure about this, anxiety weighing heavy on your back, but you wanted to try. It’d save him some time and energy (and money, probably), and it’d give you an excuse to hang out with him for a while. You were lucky nobody had come in while you two were talking, you weren’t sure you’d be able to differentiate a one and a one hundred dollar bill in your daze. The dim overhead lighting kept buzzing and an incoherent ad played over the store radio.

You’d watched in silence as Lampert stuck a finger out to trace over part of the countertop, leaving a fingerprint behind in the dust. He grimaced.

“You really touched your face after putting your hands on this?-”

“Oh my god dude I do not get paid to clean this place.”

This suddenly felt like your first time ever stepping foot into your own apartment. Your space felt barren, like someone had been slowly robbing you for the past decade until all you had was their leftover blankets and pillows. You’d done your best to make a comfortable enough mattress out of your sheets, but it still felt like you’d just thrown Lampert onto a pile of rocks and told him to get comfy.

“Fuck, umm … I might have some more blankets under my bed or something,” you thought aloud, worrying the inside of your lip between your canines while trying to catalog every forgotten shirt or notebook you’d crammed under your bedframe.

You had your back turned to Lampert, who quietly watched you devolve into a pacing mess on the floor. Truthfully, he stopped feeling the hardwood about 15 minutes ago, but never found a good spot to interject with that info.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” he hummed, watching for the slightest of shifts in the tension of your shoulders. You’d never been bad on the eyes, but this seemed to be a particularly ethereal look on you, despite the way you’d slowly gotten more disheveled and still had yet to get out of your work uniform. He couldn’t really tell what it was, he’d been over to your apartment enough you’d told him where you kept your spare key, and he’d seen you in your uniform just about every day in all states of distress.

You finally shot him a look over your shoulder, frantic gaze meeting his own relaxed one before darting away again. Your shoulders lowered a little, fidgeting in place for a few moments before you’d finally turned around to face him.

“You sure there’s nothing I can get you? It’s no trouble,” You’d asked for the third time, grabbing at the back of your neck.

“Well, you could maybe help me with this wire thing I’ve got going on, I might’ve told you about it before.”

That’d gotten a short laugh out of you, more an exhale with a brief, flashed grin than anything. “Yeah, alright, man.” Despite the snark, you’d kneeled down by his side, hands sitting by your side. “So how do I uhh …”

“Oh! Let me just …” Lampert mumbles, unbuttoning his shirt to open himself up. Instinctively, you’d turned away, busying your eyes on some uneven paint on the wall. You knew there wasn’t any real reason to be shy, there wasn’t exactly anything there, but it felt more polite to do than not. You wondered if you should’ve put music on, the thudding of your heart in your ears was starting to feel migraine inducing. No, it probably would’ve been distracting, it was for the better you didn’t. Probably.

You waited for a few more moments of shuffling, “Alright, this should work fine.”

You’d looked back at him then, already scripting some conversation that ended up going unwritten and unspoken once you’d processed the scene. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before, technically speaking, but it carried a different weight here. The light from across the room barely glinted off the collage of wires neatly lining his insides, a sea of blacks and greys in his chest. You could make out parts of a metal framework, only a little more complex than a skeleton, interestingly enough. You supposed it made sense, given his relatively humanoid body. It allowed his skin to move freely in some places, more akin to the way yours would in the soft of your forarm or the curve of your stomach. Something like a chestplate, the outermost layers of his torso were sitting beside him, resting delicately on his discarded shirt. Whoever made him should be proud.

“You ok?” Lampert suddenly spoke up, concern clear in his voice.

“OH,” you started, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, got a little lost in thought.”

“You sure? It’s ok if you changed your mind, I know it’s a little weird,” he’d reassured, struggling on the last few words. Admittedly, he was nervous. He didn’t know why, this wasn’t fear of something going wrong, but more about how you felt about all of this. Sure, he didn’t have any reason to believe you saw him as some freak of nature, but something was nagging him to cover back up. It felt vulnerable in an entirely different way to show you everything like this, to be so unforgettably other to you.

You shook your head, reaching out to rest your hands on him. He tensed up at the touch, freezing to watch for your next move. “Nah, I’m all good, promise, but uh … I don’t really see the issue. Everything looks pretty well kept.”

“Oh, yeah, the top part should be fine,” Lampert explained as he pointed to the topmost layer of wires, feeling more relaxed with the near clinical conversation, “I’m usually able to handle tidying everything back up every now and then just fine. It’s just that I’ve got this knot at the very back I can’t get to.”

You made a little noise at that, staring down at his chest with thought. While you were busy making a mental map of how to go about this, he took the opportunity to study his surroundings a little more. He’d been here plenty of times, but something always seemed to be added or moved around every time he came over. Usually, it wasn’t anything huge, and if it was you tended to make it a point of conversation, playing it up like a grand unveiling. The changes all felt natural, a physical show of changing times. You had a few photos along the wall, mostly of some of your friends you’d introduced him to before.

He can’t quite remember how you’d roped him into it, but he had a feeling you made some kind of bet or favor. That tended to be the case. He does, however, remember a lot of the night after that. Namely, he remembers you making some sweeping, grand gesture with your hands when you introduced him, like you’d just thrown a grade-A celebrity in front of your friends. He remembers one of your friends telling him it was nice to meet the guy you’d been talking about so much, fully sincere in their words. He remembers ending up sleeping on your couch, too tired to walk back home that night, while you took to sleeping on the floor right beside it, insisting it was just like a sleepover. He also remembers almost stepping on you in the morning, but that’s neither here nor there.

He can’t help the smile that crawls onto his face at the memory, all the stupid little things you’d done for him that night and the dumb jokes you made that got snickers out of him without fail. Something flutters in his chest, hands readjusting idly on his lap with some spark of pent up energy.

“Lampert.”

He snaps to attention at that, head whipping over to look at you. You’re fixing him with some odd, wide-eyed stare, lips set in a thin line.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Dude, you cannot just go all still and quiet on me like that. I was so sure I like, ripped something.”

“Wh- I was smiling! Why would I be smiling if I was hurt?”

“I don’t know!” You retorted, hands giving a stifled jerk in his chest, carefully carded through the wires. If it weren’t for not wanting to really rip something this time, you would’ve thrown your hands up in the air to really show him what exasperated looked like, he was sure of it. “Maybe you just got stuck like that?”

“’Maybe I just got stuck like-’ Oh, whatever. I’m fine, thank you for checking in,” Lampert sighed, looking back up at the ceiling. You just stuck your tongue out in response. He felt a little more aware of what was actually going on in the present, now, able to pick out the feeling of your fingers gently pushing cord after cord aside. His ability to feel things was significantly less expansive than yours was, but he could feel the dull warmth of your skin brushing up against cold metal, a foggy pressure on his frame.

He envied your heightened sensitivity at times, how you’d differentiate velvet from satin or comment on how soft something was. You’d try describing it to him sometimes, usually devolving into incoherent, if not poetic, rambles that went nowhere and left him with a very abstract idea of how silk felt. Some night where you’d both been out of it and desperate for some connection to someone, you’d traced his skin and called it smooth, and then you’d carefully touched the side of his head and said it reminded you of linen. He could understand smooth, could imagine how the visual translated to the physical, but linen was different. You’d stumbled your words for a few moments, starting and restarting multiple times over. Eventually you said linen usually felt scratchy, but got softer over time. Part of him wanted to feel insulted about the ‘scratchy’ bit, ignoring the connotations he knew from how you used it to describe texture that it usually wasn’t pleasant, but he couldn’t find the irritation at the time. He was too tired, too busy thinking about why you included how linen got softer with time, too busy thinking about how that related to him, what you were trying to tell him. In the end, he was mostly just too tired, and ended up falling asleep and forgetting about it in the morning.

He could feel you digging deeper into him now, leaning further over him to better reach without putting too much strain on other wires.

“Tell me if I’m pushing too hard,” you murmur, carefully parting the layers of copper and plastic to look for the tangled wires. “Mm, actually, can you hold that for a sec? I think I need a flashlight.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lampert hummed in response, quickly replacing your hands in himself. It was an odd angle, putting a little more strain on his arms than comfortable. As he’d moved to replace your hands, he’d brushed them briefly, registering that warmth again. He couldn’t tell what your skin felt like, if it was rough and scratchy or smooth and soft, but he could uniquely identify just how hot your hands felt against his.

It was the one sense he seemed to trump you in, given how your perception of it was limited to your body temperature. You’d be burning something awful and he’d have to tell you to lay back down, since, according to your temperature sensitivity, you were perfectly average. It made sense, you’d often make jokes about not knowing how he didn’t feel too hot whenever his light was on too long, referencing how you’d burned yourself on a light when you were younger. In the moment though, he was usually too baffled by how you’d managed such an injury to think about it. You’d complain sometimes about your hands being cold in the winter, tucking them into the sides of your neck for warmth, but he rarely ever picked up on it. Though, in fairness, you’d usually jolt in surprise when you felt how cold his hands were after being outside, a clear result of metal’s ambient temperature. No matter what you thought, you always seemed to be radiating heat, and he’d always be leeching off of it while you two sat together for some bad hallmark movie.

“There!” You blurted out, finally locating the bundle of wires bunched together among the ocean of identical strings. “It doesn’t look that bad, actually. Shouldn’t take me long,” you hummed, more to yourself than anything. You set your flashlight aside, leaning closer to his body to get a better handle on him.

As you started to delicately pry every last cable apart from one another, Lampert turned to studying you again. There was a light a little ways behind your head, leaving your face obscured in a shadow while it cast a halo around your form. He imagined you were probably fixing him with some intent look, tongue partway sticking out to focus on the knot, the same way you tended to whenever you handled someone else’s electronics. He didn’t stick around for too long whenever you were working, it didn’t look great for you if you were talking to someone for too long on your shift, so he tended to dip out after a minute or two. Sometimes, though, he’d end up talking to you about something he’d seen walking around that day while you were fixing something up. He admired how careful you could be with things as fragile as decades old circuitboards and crumbling watches, how much effort you put into making sure things didn’t get damaged any further.

That was probably part of why he’d asked you to help him with this, you were by all means technically skilled, no doubt about it. But maybe he also chose to ask you because he trusted you, beyond your skill. Asked you because he knew, on some intrinsic level, that you were someone who he could rely on. He’d done it in plenty of other regards, trusted you in moments where everything felt so disjointed and nonsensical like you were the only logical thing in the world. Without asking, you’d offered him friendship and understanding at every turn, given him a shoulder to lean on before he’d ever mentioned needing one. You’d given him your heart, and, in some way, he’d given you his.

The cables slipped back into place, the dull, constant aching in his back finally receding. You were grinning, pulling back out of his vision with some comment on how you’d been expecting worse. He hummed in response, not entirely hearing what you said, still lost in his thoughts. He followed you blearily as you got up, stretching your arms far over your head, starting into a conversation about if he wanted to do anything else while he was here, offering up a few suggestions that he didn’t catch. His hands found their place on his lap again, readjusting twice before he felt settled enough to answer.

“Can I tell you something?”

[howlingmod]

hi ... i don't really go here anymore but i rewrote my fic nighttime friend, you can read it here. here's a snippet. bye bye

He's been thinking about you quite a lot today, and yesterday too If memory serves right, maybe the day before that as well ... oh, he just can't help it. Obviously, he's happy to be out with his friends, he loves them very, very much. But he can't help but let his thoughts drift to the fact someone's not there, that someone should be asking Sally about a script she's writing right now, that someone should be helping Poppy carry over a tray full of pretty looking treats and refreshing drinks, that someone else should be helping Julie catch up to Eddie in points right now. 

[He tries to step in and do it himself sometimes but it makes the feeling get worse. It's hard to describe. It feels More like a weight in the back of his throat instead of a relief. The words come out wrong, they aren't his to say. That wasn't his line. It never was, it never will be.]

[howlingmod]

I'll tell him it's in the contract!

summary ; reader+their gang is HEAVILY, heavily, practicaly lifted, based on rockafire explosion! they're specifically based off of billy bob and have one or two lines where they're written with the slightest accent ever. i think. reader is said to be an animal animatronic, but the specific animal is never specified. also never explained why wally and them are there but um. it's for some kindof collaboration company getogether for profit Thing. ok? ok. yeah.

notes ; not proof read ! if it's bad it's because i have been thinking about this for ages and also just needed to get myself to finish something .. and also im a bit rusty because uhh .. remember when i last posted? haha ..... sorry.

wc - 1.2k

“Oh my gosh- Well, aren’t you just the tiniest button in the bunch!” One high-pitched voice squealed, the owner towering over Wally. She was bent over slightly to look down at him, curled tail wagging side-to-side behind her.

“Tiniest button in the bunch? Don’t you mean tiniest button in the jar?” The equally as towering, crow-like figure next to the previous one questioned, arms folded firmly over his chest as he peered down at the short puppet skeptically.

“Wh- That doesn’t make any sense! Who keeps all their buttons in a jar?!” The former cried in response, straightening up from her half-bent stance and whipping to look at him in shock. With the other’s comment, they seemed to completely forget about Wally, leaving him an audience of one to the two’s conversation.

“Plenty’a people do! My mamma always kept hers in one, kept ‘em from rollin’ on away!” The other figure explains confidently, beaming with pride as he turned to the former.

“But what if the prettiest one was way, way down in the jar! How would she get it out then? Would she just dump the whole thing out? That’s craziness!”

“Hey, don’t talk about my mamma like that-”

“Guys, guys,” a third voice suddenly interjects, owner hiding out of sight somewhere behind Wally, “Did nobody teach you some manners? This ain’t any way to treat a new guest, poor fella just walked in and you two are already scrappin’ with eachother!” A quick half turn from Wally reveals information both surprising and unsurprising, as he has to crane his neck upwards still to see their face in the poor lighting. They seemed less than pleased with the other two’s behavior, lip half turned in frustration.

The other two’s posture immediately relax, the higher-pitched one’s shoulders drooping like dog ears as the other looked away in embarassment.

“We’re sorry, (Name), I suppose we were just a bit excited,” the higher-pitched one pouted, not meeting anyone’s eyes as she looked to the floor. Her downtrodden mood didn’t last long though, as she seemingly sprung back to life, looking back to Wally as she lit back up, “Oh- I hope you can brush our rudeness aside. It’s just so nice to see a new friend! Or, is it meet a new face? Ah, either way, it’s so nice to see you!”

She crouches down to Wally’s level, shortening the height gap and giving his neck some much needed relaxation, “My name is Chelsea, this guy is Cole, he seems a bit mean at first but I promise he’s got a big heart under all those feathers!”

Cole snapped back to attention at this comment, looking to Chelsea indignantly, “Why- That’s not fair! You’re butchering my character completely!” He straightened his posture, readjusting the tie at his neck as he looked to Wally, “Don’t listen to her, she’s fallen off stage one too many times now. She got my name right, at least. I hope you can grow to understand me more on your own accord and make your own judgement,” he corrected firmly, glaring at Chelsea out of the corner of his eye on his last few words.

Without making any real response to the other two, Wally turns to the third figure from before, quietly looking up to them in wait. They took a second before seemingly realizing everyone was waiting for their own introduction. “Ah, you mighta heard, I’m (Name). I’m just one of the side shows here, alongside a couple’a other guys.”

He stayed quiet still, only nodding ever so slightly as he waited for someone to talk again. He really wasn’t sure of how to make heads or tails of this whole thing quite yet, these folks seemed so different from his friends in the neighborhood. Yet, it all seemed so familiar to his friends at the same time. How terribly confusing …

Picking up on his silence, (Name) spoke up again, “How about this, I can show you around while your folks and my folks get to know eachother a bit, that sound good?” Wally looked up at them, previous train of thought falling off into the back of his mind.

“Promise I won’t make things too boring, but you’ll have to excuse me a bit, an old (animal) like me only has so much natural wit left by now.” (Name) reassured further, smiling and making a hand over heart gesture with one hand as their other reached out to him in offering. He gave their hand a glance before looking back up to their expression. Well, he couldn’t say no to that, now could he?

—

-You stayed true to your word, giving him a full tour of the place. He didn’t even realize how little you really described the places you visited, too distracted by all the stories of your friends you told him. If he was anxious before, that was definitely gone now. With every last tale you regaled, he found himself relating more and more. Sure, your friends were definitely a little more rowdy than he thought his were, but they all had that same love for eachother he seen in his neighborhood time and time again.

-He stuck by your side for the most part, tailing you like a lost dog around the place even after the tour was really over. Initially, it was just because you’d offered to sit with him while some of your friends put on a show, but he’d found himself jumping off your little stage you two had watched from to follow you to your room and talk more before even thinking about it.

(-He’d enjoyed that show immensely. Your friends were all such talented musicians! He couldn’t recognize the song they were playing, but from your heavy applause and their beaming at the sound, he joined in with his own, softer clapping. You’d pointed out each member of the band to him, leaning over to tell him a little bit about them and reminding him of the ones he’d already heard of and met. The music was loud and proud, but he’d found himself fixated on the sound of your voice anyway.)

-When he finally got to see how you performed alongside all your friends, he was excited. Not only did he finally get to see your talent, but he also got to see just how you interacted with your friends. You all bounced off eachother well, similarly to that conversation between Chelsea and Cole that he’d interpreted as an argument but you’d told him was banter- he could see now, how even when some of you were making digs at eachother, everyone was smiling and laughing. You all were so close that you knew the mean words didn’t mean anything bad, only said to amuse and entertain. It was nice.

-He didn’t realize how sucked into the performance he was getting, completely unaware of the puzzled look his own friend, Barnaby was giving him. It was only till the dog followed the shorter puppet’s gaze that he got an idea of what was going on. He could only snicker to himself, leaning back in his chair now that he’d assured his friend was alright. Once curtains were finally called and Wally had paused in his clapping, without any preface, Barnaby had spoken up. “So, the (animal), huh?”

[howlingmod]

Have I been thinking of a selkie or Finfolk Welcome Home AU trying to get my projects done? Absolutely. Is it one of the first things I'm writing once finals are over and some requests are done? You bet. Am I implying that Home is basically the equivalent of Hildaland to Wally and the others? Yup.

Am I making a short little drabble to tease people with? Hell yeah.

___________________________________________

Flashing scales shined beneath the moonlight as the creature leaned further in to get a better look at the intruder.

You weren't supposed to be here.

Home is a shrouded in his own magic that's supposed to keep outsiders out, you're not supposed to so much at see the island unless you were invited, only other finfolk and their families were allowed here, it kept humans out. Specifically humans like you. How did you manage to get in? Too many questions, not enough answers. He did not like this one bit, and judging by the strong winds Home didn't like this either. Perhaps he should investigate himself. The others should be able to sense the trespasser already.

Wally silently walked down to the shoreline allowing the rest of his scales to disappear from sight, he didn't want to alarm the human.

You lay there almost motionless save for your ragged breaths and shivering. Clearly you could not have swam here or gone by boat as he spotted no boat from which you sailed on. There was a chance you possibly got dragged in by a current...but it still would not explain how you are physically on his island and there was still the issue that this place was far out in the ocean, it would be impossible for any human to survive by swimming long enough to get here.

"Hmm...what to do with you." Wally hummed and stood back to his full height, spotting Frank and Eddie approaching.

"So, there is another human after all. At least I'm not the only one now." Frank stated flatly. Eddie leaned down examining your clothes. Frank leaned over to get a look as well.

"Well, that's a bit odd. Their clothes should be soaked."

Eddie looked down at you, he was right, you were dry as if you hadn't been swimming at all, but he could sense you washed up here just a few minutes ago.

Frank crossed his arms and continued.

"Their clothes look off as well. If I'm not mistaken..." He knelt down to rub a hand through the fur. It was almost like heaven to touch, soft, silky, smooth, and fluffy all at once.

"This isn't a human." He gave Wally a stern look, as if Wally himself should have known this information.

"Pardon?" Wally looked from the couple to down at you with a puzzled face.

Frank moved over and prodded at your soft cheeks. "It's quite obvious really. The hood and coat is that of a seal's. Though it's softer and finer, and clearly unable to stay wet. And the face..." He brushed a thumb over you neck and forehead. "While paler, there are a few bristles of silver at the edges of the face and neck, just recently transformed." He gave the rest of your body a quick look over. "And by the looks of it, they're a young adult, most likely not in a pod yet."

"Quite frankly, I believe we have a selkie here."

___________________________________________

Finfolk AU with selkie reader? This sure is interesting!

And poor Frank, at least he has a big strong Finfolk husband to take care of him on Home. :)

[howlingmod]

Are you bored yet?

summary ; human/actors au again ... reader is a local clay worker that Wally may or may not like just a teeny bit. meetcute coric ..

notes ; they/them used for reader , not proof read and just a teeeny tiny bit rushed (i am sleepy) . glass breaks but there is no violence or anything ..

wc - 2k

He really should’ve been more careful, looking back on it now.

Yes, it’d been a while since he’d gotten that vase and set it down, but, really, for walking past it every single day, he should’ve realized how precariously it sat on the table. He should’ve realized that sooner or later, he was going to be too tired to remember to give it some space when he walked back into his apartment. Unfortunately, however, he did not in fact realize that in time. And so, he is tragically faced with the terrible fate of going and buying a new vase. Perhaps this time, he will not place it so precariously. Perhaps this time he will buy a thicker one that has less chances of shattering into one-thousand tiny pieces in the dark at around 10pm on a Thursday. He had much to think about in his journey of replacement.

Luckily, for as long as he’d had the vase, he could still vaguely recall where he’d gotten it from. It was some pottery store he’d randomly passed by once just outside of the city, curiousity (and fatigue, if he remembers right, it’d been an eventful day and he was still too jittery to lay down quite yet) getting the better of him when he’d noticed it. The owners were nice enough, an older couple who he could recall telling him long-winded stories about anything tangentially related to what he’d been looking at. Plates with flowers painted on them prompted a story about some unidentified, gorgeous plants one of them had seen around a river long ago. A cup with an oceanic color-scheme had prompted a tale of a seagull one of their previous coworkers would feed bits and pieces of bread to on their break. So on, so forth. Long winded for anyone passing through, but pleasant for someone just tired enough to want white noise and easy, one-sided conversation.

Getting into his car, he wondered if they’d have any stories to tell him this time. He would likely be better conversation this time, now that he was less exhausted from being around other people for a long, exciting period of time and more tired from waking up at some time before 11am on a rare free day. He found himself gathering excitment somewhere in his chest, bubbling up in fondness at the idea of this little trip. Sure, it was just a silly little thing to be excited over, but it was nice to have a break from monotony, wasn’t it?

It was a nice day out, too. The breeze forgiving and the sun sociable in the sky, bright rays easily negotiated to peace with sunglasses. It’d been a while since he’d ventured out of the city. Sure, it’s not as though he lived in the heart of it, but it was still different to see the buildings like miniatures from afar. It was a nice break from the towering skyscrapers and heavy traffic. Especially the traffic, actually. He’d never been good with handling bad drivers.

There wasn’t anyone else in the parking lot, only one or two other cars there, likely the owner’s or someone in a closeby building’s. There were a few other businesses dotted around in the area, some strip mall closeby and a park on the way there. He was likely just early, there probably aren’t many people stopping to buy pottery at 9am.

The inside of the store was quiet enough, music playing softly enough you had to pay attention to the murmurs to pick up on it. The lights shone on everything, not blindingly as much as it was in gentle awareness of everything. As his eyes refocused, he could’ve sworn he seen a vague shape duck into a doorway near the back of the store. Before he could properly investigate his suspicions, his attention was drawn away.

“Well, I was wondering when the resident celebrity was coming back!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, turning to face his company. “I hope I’m not intruding, it seems I’m rather early this time.”

The older woman he recognized from his previous visit smiled and shook her head, “Much earlier, I’m glad to see the cold night didn’t drag you in this time.”

He returned the smile, pushing his hands into his pants pockets as he replied, “Oh no, I was actually coming to look and see if you had any new vases in.”

She’d lit up at his words, straightening up with intent to lead him off, “Of course! We’ve got plenty of new ones in since last time, I’m sure we can find one to your liking.”

-

“-turns out, that hammering I thought I’d heard from the neighbors had just been a big woodpecker all along!”

He’d smiled fondly, “Ah! You don’t see many of those around here, do you?” He was careful to keep a good grip on the vase in his hands, decorated in an intricate scene of a forest dotted with various birds. From the minute details on every pine needle and carved indents on certain elements, he could only imagine how long it’d taken to make.

“No, no you don’t,” she’d laughed, shaking her head as she looked back to the shelf filled to the brim with other, equally eye-catching vases. He’d studied the one in his hands a moment longer, carefully tracing over the carving of texture in a tree before perking up at a new sound.

A soft ‘clink’ had snapped him out of his thoughts. Initially, he’d figured the old woman had picked up a new piece to show him, but found she was still studying the selection herself. He’d turned around quickly, curious to see if anyone else had stopped in, but the store was empty. That was when his eyes caught that doorway again, vaguely making out the shape of shelving in the darkened hall. On that shelving sat one vase, darkness obscuring the pattern of it.

“Why put that one piece there?”

The woman had snapped out of her own thoughts, looking back at him momentarily before following his gaze to the pot patiently sitting in the shade. Upon noticing the object of his attention, she’d smiled once more and turned back to him, “Our resident potter puts their finished work there so we can price it and set it out.”

That had caught his attention. “Resident?”

“Oh yes! While we do get a fair amount from other sources, just as fair an amount is homemade,” she hummed, “Would you like to meet them?”

He’d readjusted his hold on the vase again, not wanting to risk another work in his excitement, “If that wouldn’t be a bother.”

She shook her head, “I’m sure it’ll be quite alright, chances are they would appreciate the conversation, artist-to-artist.”

Before he could offer any sort of further fret, she’d started off towards the hall, leaving him to stand awkwardly with the glassware on his lonesome. He’d glanced at the large cardinal on the surface of the piece one final time before hurriedly (and carefully) placing it back on the shelf, jumping to catch up.

-

It was far darker back here than it had been in the main area of the store. Combined with the noticable increase in temperature, however, it was more comfortable than you would’ve imagined. Through the shade he could pick out calenders, notes and other miscellanious papers littered along walls and desks. Half-dirtied rags were scattered on shelves, various bottles standing not far from them nor the different tools lying about. Before he could even try and dissect what their uses would be by simple observing and guessing, the woman spoke up again.

“I hope you don’t mind some company, (Name),” she chimed, speaking just a tad louder to properly catch attention in all the visual noise.

With that, he’d finally noticed the figure standing in front of a tall table near the middle of the room, turning their head to look towards her. Their eyes flicked to him momentarily in what he could only assume was surprise. They’d straightened up from their hunched over position, wiping their hands off on a dirtied apron as they walked around the table and towards the pair.

Oh no.

They’d opened their mouth to start talking to her, but he couldn’t pick up on any of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was focusing on, he just knew that he was particularly distracted by the person in front of him and it wasn’t exactly getting any better the more and more he zoned out. He couldn’t make out every detail perfectly in the low-lighting, but it was enough that he could very, very easily tell this person was very, very attractive.

“-so you’re that one guy on tv?”

“Yes!” He flinched as he snapped out of his thoughts, “Wally Darling, but just Wally is more than fine.”

You’d smiled and for a brief moment he had to hope and pray his wasn’t too dopey and the low light hid the heat in his face as you stuck your hand out. There was a brief moment your smile faltered, as though suddenly realizing something, but it wasn’t a fast enough reaction as he’d snatched up your hand. Your hands were, similarly to the rest of the room, noticably warmer. They were also noticably sticky with clay, some already drying out on your skin as the rest, inevitably, would likely dry to his.

���And could I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” You looked like you were stuck between apologizing for getting the blood of your work on him and introducing yourself, glancing between him and your hands for a few moments. He vaguely realized this was probably a bit long for a handshake. Eventually, you managed a weak smile, righting your grip on his hand, “(Name).”

“That’s a very lovely name,” he stated plainly, hoping you could pick up on the sincerity in his flatter tone, “How long have you been working with ceramics, if you don’t mind my asking?”

You’d perked up at that, seemingly completely forgetting about the handshake (that was still yet to properly break apart, this was definitely not a proper one, anymore) with the topic of your work. “Well, that’s a bit of a difficult question. I’ve been working with clay for a long, long time, but I really only picked it up career wise a year or two ago.”

“Ah! That figures, your work is all very professional looking, it’s very impressive,” he complimented. Sure, he might’ve been laying it on a little thick, but it seemed as though he’d suddenly lost the ability to control his words, them tumbling out before he could even really think about it.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to mind, instead reaching up a hand to rub at the back of your neck. “Well, I don’t think my work is that stellar, but I really appreciate it. It uh- it definitely takes some time, it’s nice to see it goes to good use.”

“It’s nothing, really. If you don’t mind, could I watch for a bit? It’s completely fine if not, I really am just curious to see how you go about it.” Yes, he was definitely pushing his luck a little bit. In his defense, however, he was genuinely curious about how you managed to get all your vases so smooth and pack so many details onto such a small, unconventional canvas. It was just an added bonus that he’d possibly get to find out more about you, that was all! He can’t help the mysterious potter he hadn’t even known existed was not only nice on the eyes but, so far, was nothing short of pleasant.

You’d thought on it a moment, moving the hand at the back of your neck to hang at your jaw absentmindedly, “I suppose that would be fine by me, I can’t promise it’ll be too entertaining though.”

He smiled and shook his head, “Not a problem at all! I’m sure I can find enough entertainment for the both of us, I am an entertainer myself, after all.”

You returned his smile, finally letting go of his hand and breaking off your entirely-professional handshake to turn and head back to your workstation, “Well, make yourself comfortable, then.”

"Oh, trust me, that won't be any problem at all."

[howlingmod]

Nighttime Friend

summary ; reader is some sort of scrapped character and is also wally’s slightly scary looking friend . wally likes scary people /ref

tw ; body horror? described reader very little but they are meant to be. well. Scrapped. , very very very fast and loose canon compliancy wise … mix of drabble and hcs for my own sanity. alternates from 'in show' to 'real world' type of setting ! maybe confusing. + very little proofreading

wc - 1.8k

It’d been such a nice day out today. The clouds had given way for the sun to shine upon every flower and the trees had gave way for comfortable patches of shade and the grass had given way for a comfortable bed which in turn gave way for someone to rest on it for a while. Wally had found himself enjoying recreating his scenery quite a bit today, there were just so many little details to add and take in to capture in oil paints. It truly, truly was such a wonderful day.

And yet, he couldn’t help but be excited for it to end.

Not out of exhaustion or irritation! No, no, quite the opposite, really! He loved spending time with his friends out and about, even if they would just stop by to talk while he painted, he loved every moment of it. Yet, he always knew that he was missing one of his friends whenever he was out like this. He couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift off to the one person he’d never had come up to talk to him as he finished the wings of a butterfly or simply sit in contentment with when brushstrokes closed off a leaf on a tree.

So, when the sky had begun to shift colors, he was quick to pack his supplies away. The sun gave way for the beginnings of stars, the heat ebbed away to a comfortable medium that gave way for the cozy mental image of a light blanket. He’d returned a quick, whipping wave from Julie with a cooler, lazier one of his own and a chimed ‘Good night, neighbor.’ He’d given well wishes to Frank and a light-hearted ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ to Howdy, so on and so forth. He’d always liked giving his friends one last little reminder that he cared about them before he returned back home. He liked making sure his friends were happy, that was always very, very important to Wally.

As such, he always made sure to make sure you were happy, too.

As far as he could tell, none of his other friends knew about you. He’d asked Sally if she’d ever seen someone about your height in her audiences, asked Eddie if he’d ever seen a letter with an odd address, and Barnaby if he’d ever heard a specific kind of laugh. All of his questions came back with uncertain answers, they could recall something similar, but there was never anything definite. They could feel like they'd seen something not far off from his description, but it never was on the mark.

(To be entirely fair, he couldn’t really remember when he’d first seen you either though. It comes out foggy whenever he tries to recall, vague shapes and colors all blurring together incoherently when he tries to think of the first thing you’d ever said to him. He hopes he didn’t say anything silly to you. He likes making a good first impression, after all!)

[He couldn't remember what you originally looked like anymore. It was all just blobs of colors in his mind. He couldn't find any recordings or artwork. He couldn't find the portrait of you from that one episode recorded a long time ago. He knew he hadn't gotten rid of it. It was hidden, somewhere in that workshop.]

He’d offered to introduce you to them properly, a few times now. You’d always shake your head quickly, insisting you weren’t ready to be seen yet. That was alright, he just figured you were a little shy. Maybe you’d get along well with Poppy … He could wait to find that out.

(He could pick up on the unspoken bits. You weren’t ready to be seen like this. You didn’t know what they would say. He could understand. He didn’t like being seen with his hair down. Friends or not, there was always that nagging, wasn’t there?)

[So why, then, did he not worry about hiding away when he’d return with hair flattened by rain or bedhead in the mornings? Why then did you slink out whenever he’d come back to ask how his day was? Why was it different? Why did he feel different when it came to you? Why did he feel different about you? Is this how friends think of eachother? He didn’t think about anyone else in the neighborhood like this. Why was it that whenever you’d dismiss his offers words would pool on his tongue, tied by something unfamiliar and new-]

“I’m home, dear!” He was never one to change his volume much, he’d always struggled with getting much louder than his normal speaking voice. Yet, he’d always get just a bit louder whenever making this (quite uneeded, you could hear the door closing along with his footsteps) announcement of sorts.

He could feel his smile grow just a tad wider when he’d picked up on those telltale, quiet footfalls from somewhere else in Home. He could feel something or other pull at his chest when you’d finally shambled into view, instinctively stepping forward to help close the gap. It was something of a routine, at this point, evident in how you’d leaned down the moment he’d his hands up to you, finding their place at the sides of your face.

(You felt different from him and his friends, less soft and more scratchy. Not to any jarring degree, just enough that when he’d brush a thumb over your cheeks or your hand he would pick up on the difference. It was a curious little bit, to him.)

[You’d remarked on the difference yourself, once. You’d been particularly touchy that day, holding his face in your hands and raking nails through the shortest parts of his hair. You’d said he felt so fuzzy. You’d said you missed feeling fuzzy too. You didn’t say anything else that night. He’d taken to tracing shapes on your hands and arms when you both finally laid down. His tongue was tied again, surplus of words choked back. He liked the way you felt, it was unique to you. He didn’t mind the difference, he didn’t mind that you looked different, it wasn’t your fault, there were just some budget cuts that-]

You didn’t have to speak, either, with how familiar and treaded this routine was he already knew what you were asking when you’d tug on one of his sleeves and nudge further into his hands.

(You didn’t talk too much, you said that it felt funny if you did it for too long. He could vaguely understand that, your voice sounded just a tad different to the others as well. You obviously had your own tone and vocal quirks, but it was always just a little off in some indescribable way. There was always something humming underneath your words, like feedback on a microphone.)

[He was finding he rather liked the sound of feedback on a microphone. He was finding he rather liked you, he was finding himself imagining you waving him over while having tea with Julie, or laughing at something Barnaby said at a picnic while you sat next to him, or some other little fantasy. They felt so real that it hurt to think about. If he could just find lots of thread and more of your original parts then maybe things could go back to that script-]

“Oh, I have so much to tell you! Sally’s working on another play, and it’s actually very interesting so far. It’s about …”

-Wally finds you veeerry very interesting in many ways. He won’t pry too much if he ever notices his questions seem to upset you, but do expect an inquiry or two about this and that. They mostly revolve around how certain things feel for you, after all, he’d hate to do something to accidentally make you uncomfortable! Oh, it’s too hard for you to lift something up? That’s ok, he can get it for you! It’s too uncomfortable to talk? Just fine! He’s got plenty to talk to you about in your stead.

-When you’d first started interacting, the staring was a point of discomfort. You knew he likely didn’t mean anything by it, but it was hard to not feel just a little anxious under his gaze. While you knew he was just like that, it didn’t stop you from worrying if he was judging you- which! he has (and will!) reassure you time and time again that he would never do! He loves you far too much to do anything like that :[ … while he definitely struggled with remembering to, he made an effort to try and . not . stare too much, and even when he did he would focus on select things (your eyes were his favorite by far, scuffs from landing the floor time and time again and all) rather than you overall in hopes you wouldn’t worry as much. If it’s ever one of those days where you just can’t seem to stand being looked at by any means, he offers to walk around in a blind-fold. He does NOT care if he trips and falls, he just wants his dear friend to be happy. Besides, you tend to keep him safe when he sticks by your side, so he trusts you won’t let him make an utter fool of himself.

-On better days, though, he likes to paint you. He likes painting all of his friends, of course, but it’s different when it comes to you. Every last portrait makes him find some little detail he hadn’t noticed before. Just last week he’d noticed you had multicolored scraps of fabric sticking out just above one of your wrists. The week before that he’d noticed one of your fingers had dark blue stitched attaching it to your hand. So on, so forth. (While he struggles with his words when it comes to you, he really does find you captivating. You’re full of so many little bits and pieces all entangled in such an interesting way he’s never imagined before. If he could get himself together and you could bear listening to sappy-speak at length, he would go over every last detail that he adores about you, from the scraps to the threads to the faint scuffs in your pupils. He does hope he doesn’t look too silly whenever he stares at you for a brief moment or two, it gets hard to not smile just a little wider when he’s gazing at you so.)

-VERY very big fan of cuddling with you :] your ability to not exactly fall to the same physical boundaries that him and his friends due lends to you being able to pull him just a tad closer. He likes the pressure when you lean on him with limbs keeping him close. While he does try to stay up as long as he can to spend time with you, at one point or another he does want to sleep … however that does not mean he would like you to seperate from him. Surely, you wouldn’t mind his “”“”“snoring”“”“”“”“” (read. repetition of ‘im sleeping’) too much, right? He sure hopes not, he’s a little too comfortable to really want to sleep anywhere other than in your arms.

-He tries to sneak you out in the daytime sometimes … he only does it when you’re alright with it, of course, but he’s veeerry careful. He understands you aren’t quite ready to meet all your friends (Yes, your friends. He knows they would love you, it was meant to be!) yet, so he’ll make sure to bring you to some pleasant places he knows they wouldn’t go to at that time whenever you want some fresh air. (Given the fact that you tend to be more active at night, chances are you sleep during the day. He finds your sleepiness to be very cute, so you’ll have to forgive him if he pokes just a teeeny bit of fun at you … he just thinks your tired play-arguing is fun.)

[howlingmod]

do not have the time to write right now BUT ! I wanted to get this thought down before it left me ... with all of the fun little roger/jessica rabbit themed wally darling+reader hcs i think a lot of people forget about the 'what a lucky girl' line (in reference to jessica being married to roger).

i thin it's a fun little bit that doesn't get utilized quite enough ! in cases of roger rabbit reader ; yes! yes, reader is in fact just a little silly! but, obviously, that's a part of why wally likes them so much, they make him laugh. however they're still popular and famous in their own right, by all means i'm sure there's plenty of people who would love to get their own, private comedy act with them. wally very much so echoes the sentiment, he IS in fact a very lucky guy to have a silly spouse.

[howlingmod]

Lights, Cameras , ... !

summary ; actors au because it's been stuck in my head and humanwally is very very pretty to me ... hcs that will maybe turn into something more at a later date and time

notes ; no pronouns for reader , not proof read

wc - 1.4k

-You played one of the other characters in the show, appearing frequently in episodes both as a focus and not. Sometimes you would have segments of teaching and othertimes you would simply be interacting with some of the other characters on stage when the episode’s plot called for it. Most commonly, you’d be interacting with Wally, as your characters were close friends.

-He was a sweet, charming guy- both in character and not. When the show was in its earliest days, you were admittedly a little nervous around him. No fault of his as much as it was just unfortunate ‘I am very not used to being an actor yet and you seem very calm about it, therefore you must have lots of experience, therefore I am going to look silly, therefore I am very very much so going to try and not look silly, and hope I do not look silly trying to make sure I don’t look silly,’ sort of case. In all honesty, though, being pushed to work closely with him was probably for the better. While he still had his moments of nervousness himself (more than a few times he’d come to sit with you an hour or so before shooting started to calm down, just enjoying the quiet company as you worked on getting yourself ready or checking over lines), it seemed as though his easy-going nature was one that rubbed off on you with time.

-Tense conversations about how this and that would go on set turned to more casual ones about specific scenes to practicing lines being thrown to the wayside as you both just started talking about something else. He’d still practice with you of course, typically working on segments where you took the teaching sort of role (sure, you’d been doing them for a while now, but that doesn’t make suddenly having the Big Moral Lesson shifted entirely onto your shoulders any less intimidating), it just happened that, should one of you go off topic for even a moment, you were both done practicing. There’s a line that references going outside on walks? Oh, well that reminds you of something interesting you’d seen the other day on your way home. (You can’t just turn back once you realize what you’re doing either, he will most definitely egg you on. After all, you can’t just leave him on a cliff hanger, can you?) There’s a line referencing dessert? Well, he just has to tell you about something he tried at that new cafe downtown the other day. (You’ll most certainly egg him on. It’d be rude not to return the favor and, more selfishly, you’d really just like to hear his voice a while longer.)

-You aren’t sure when things had started to change, perhaps it was just slow enough that it slipped in without either of you really noticing until it was sitting next to you both as you talked, unable to be quietly pushed back out of the room with a lame excuse. You’d say you have some specific moment in time to blame it on, but there’s just far too many.

There was that time it was raining out by the time your shifts were over, so he’d offered you his umbrella. You’d tried to refuse at first, not wanting him sacrificing his comfort for yours, but he’d insisted. He’d given some little excuse of not wanting you to get sick, only laughing when you’d pointed out he could most certainly get sick in your stead, reassuring you that he’d try his best not to.

Or there was that time you were panicking over some scene of focus, sudden stage fright taking hold of you as you seemed to lose track of all previous acting experience you had. You’d been pacing around in your room, listing off every last little thing that could go wrong from you stammering too much to you saying it all backwards and upside down (whatever that meant), only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder holding you in place. You’d wanted to go back to listing, finding some sort of comfort in being able to identify all that could go wrong before it even happened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to when he was fixing you with some half-concerned half-placating smile. You can’t recall exactly what he’d said, something nice about how he was sure you would be just fine and that you were working yourself up over nothing, he had faith that you would deliver exactly what was asked for and more. It wasn’t anything particularly poetic or breath-taking, but it stuck with you for one reason or another. Maybe it was just how he’d been quick to offer his help in practicing some more or taking your mind off of it altogether. Perhaps it was the fact that it did in fact help, and you did in fact do well in the recording. Perhaps it was the fact he’d happily told you he knew you had it in you with some tone that was genuine enough to conjure up some warmth in your face and fidgeting in the hands.

Maybe it was that night you’d all had to stay in a little later than usual, some shooting problem or other you didn’t bother remembering, only that you would have to cut into the rest of your night with work. You moreso remember being tired -dead tired, really- by the time the problem was resolved. Most people took the opportunity to quickly say their goodbyes and quietly slip out and shamble to their cars to drive home and sleep. You, however, did not have a car, and you didn’t want to take your chances with tripping and falling into oncoming traffic in a sleepy haze. You were sizing up one of the small, semi-comfortable semi-stiff couches in the building when Wally had offered to drive you home instead. You would’ve put up more of a fight with ‘oh you dont have to’s and ‘it’s not a big deal’s but quite frankly, you were having a hard enough time opening your mouth to argue at all. It didn’t matter much, anyway, over-politeness thrown out the moment you’d gotten in his car, as you’d taken no time falling asleep in the passenger seat. He’d admitted to you later on he felt bad for waking you up when he got to your place, you seemed so comfortable for what it was. He’d helped you in your half-awake state, walking you to your door with some one-sided small talk (he had to hope you didn’t pick up on his snickering whenever you’d give a slurred, halfway-nonsensical response. you’d have to pardon his rudeness, it was just a tiny bit funny). There was some brief moment before you’d walked in to go (hopefully) lie down in a far more comfortable bed and get some proper sleep, where you’d turned to him and thanked him for his kindness. It was nothing unexpected, it was moreso just the added ‘and for all the other help, I really appreciate you’ that made something in his chest turn a bit. It wasn’t too noticable enough then, he was too focused on how the light from some faraway streetlight illuminated you just enough that he could see some twinge of something or other in your eye and perhaps he was just a little enraptured with just how close the two of you were and maybe he was a little caught up on how much he’d like to reach for one of your hands to fully realize it. He just had to hope his smile wasn’t too obviously dopey in front of you when he’d finally left your doorstep to take himself home, and that maybe you’d wanna go try that cafe downtown if he’d asked you tomorrow. He’s sure you’d appreciate the coffee anyway.

-All you really know is that you’re sure it was more obvious, on set and in recordings that there was something different. There was new little glimmer in the eye or shuffle in body language that screamed that something was different and new. It wasn’t a bad change, not at all, but it definitely gave some of your co-workers room to tease and jab when you two would make eye contact for slightly too long in that one specific way or one of you would laugh at something the other said in that near sickeningly-sweet, comedically obvious way. Whenever anyone seriously asked about it though, you’d just blamed it on those drinks that were very quickly becoming part of your morning routine.