#also i swear he hums in morse code

[almostswagkid]

I have a little headcanon that G Corp Gregor just does this

[apocalypseornaw]

Eyes Extra Green

While watching Netflix Dean gets a bit jealous over a new character on your favorite show.

Warnings: cursing, strangers things season 4 vol 2 spoilers

You were laying across yours and Dean's bed waiting on him to get out of the shower. The first half of season 4 of stranger things had hit Netflix so the two of you had decided to stock up on snacks and watch the episodes. He was personally still pissed at Hopper's supposedly demise but you were certain they'd bring him back considering he was Eleven's adoptive father and a fan favorite.

You were twirling a licorice between your fingers when the door opened so you looked up to see Dean standing there. Even in his hotdog pj pants and plain black t-shirt you felt your heart flip at knowing he was yours. He must have noticed the look in your eyes because a smirk slipped onto his face "What are you smiling at sweetheart?" You shrugged, turning over on your stomach to look at him "I dunno. The fact that despite how unusual our lives are we get to do something as trivial as lay around and watch a show we both enjoy. Took a while but we finally found some balance"

He smiled and walked over to lean down and place a gentle kiss against your lips "Now scoot over and let me in bed"

"Aww the door's open three inches!" You cooed watching the screen from where you lay across Dean's chest. You could feel his light laughter "I swear the mixture of badass and softy that you are still amazes me at times!" "Oh hush" you laughed both of you turning your attention to the screen.

----------

The main reason Dean was so fast to want to watch stranger things with you was because of how much you enjoyed it. From seeing your excitement at hints of them finding Hopper to cursing at the screen when Eleven was picked on. The passion that you held for everything in your life showed yet again and seeing that was always a good time to him.

However the moment they showed Mike and Dustin with their D&D club at the school he clocked the way your eyes flicked up at the new character Eddie. He didn't say anything but felt that nip of jealousy quickly pushing it down by telling himself it was a show and new characters always intrigued you.

"He looks like a kicked puppy"

"Yeah Eddie was scared you dumbass. He's just trying to graduate,he doesn't have superhuman powers"

"Ok but Eddie headbanging and having the time of his life while the rest of the crew freaks because they're stealing an rv is funny as hell"

"Yes honey sos counts as Morse code"

The more episodes the two of you watched the more if became apparent that you had a crush on Eddie and that Dean was becoming a bit jealous over it. He was sure he could overlook it, hell you were his. You were in his bed every night and the two of you had been together for years yet when you ended up coming to bed one night wearing a "Hellfire Club" shirt he couldn't hide the fact that he was jealous.

------

You had just got out of the shower and decided to wear the shirt Charlie sent as a gift to bed. She loved stranger things also and had ordered her a hellfire shirt so she got you one at the same time.

You walked down the hall to the room you shared with Dean humming under your breath considering you'd been listening to one of Dean's playlists. He was standing at the dresser when you walked in and a smile slipped onto his face but you noticed the way his eyes also raked down your body not as if he was just checking you out but his eyes were glued to the front of your shirt.

At first you figured it was because you were wearing an oversized shirt and no pants but considering Sam had gone to bed hours before and the shirt was long enough to cover anything important you didn't really see it as that big of a deal.

"Dean?" You called his name lightly and he raised his eyes eyes yours, his smile softening slightly "New shirt?" You nodded "Charlie sent it last week. She ordered herself one and wanted to match" he studied you for a minute longer until he shrugged "Ready to go to bed?" "Please sir" you replied with a laugh as you reached out for his hand.

Dean laid down first then you climbed into bed curling up on his chest. He was quiet for a while simply tracing patterns on your back until he finally spoke "What's with the d and d club shirt? I mean I get Charlie she's big in the game but you only know the basics, I've only seen you pay attention to games when Karen Page is the dungeon master"

"First of all her name is Deborah Ann Woll" you laughed then cut your eyes up at him before adding "Besides its moreso a stranger things shirt than dungeons and dragons" he raised an eyebrow "Couldn't get one of those greetings from the upside down shirts?" You pushed yourself to be sitting up feeling his hand slip down your back to rest at your hip "Dean, what's this really about"

"Nothing sweetheart let's go to bed" when the realization hit you a hiccup of a laugh escaped you "It's cause of Eddie" Dean knew it was useless to deny simply because you knew all of his tells "Baby are you jealous?" You managed barely biting back another laugh. "You've been drooling over the guy since he appeared on the screen" it would've been humorous had you not realized he was seriously offended "Dean, it's rare you get jealous over people in real life so what's the issue?"

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt "I dunno honestly. I mean like you said I trust you in real life situations with other people actively flirting with you...I guess a part of me wonders if you've ever thought about him while we..." when he trailed off your eyes got wide "Are you serious?"

When he wouldn't meet your eyes you sighed lightly turning in the bed to straddle his waist "Look at me baby" he slowly met your gaze "There is no one on this earth that I would want more than you. I know you have a really shitty view of yourself but I told you a long time ago I will continue to remind me what type of man you really are until the day I die. I have to say though with how many people check you out on the daily, even mid hunt it's fuckin adorable to see you jealous over me having a thing for a character"

A smirk slipped onto his face right before he gripped your hips tightly flipping you over to be underneath him "Yeah yeah yeah. I'm adorable now let's see if I can make you forget any other man exists real or not"

Weeks passed and Dean's jealousy was forgotten. Life was how it always was. Hunts and the normal insanity that was your shared lives.

"Are we gonna watch the second part of stranger things?" Dean asked glancing at you in the rearview mirror. The two of you and Sam were on the way home from a hunt. You raised an eyebrow at him and he smirked "No being jealous I promise"

Sam chuckled at the two of you even though he was checking through his emails.

---------

"I didn't run this time, right?" You were curled up against Dean's chest sniffling as you watched Dustin fight back tears while Eddie died in his arms.

Dean's embrace tightened pulling you closer as the two of you watched the remainder of the finale in silence. Once it was over he clicked off the television then cleared his throat "Are you ok sweetheart?" You nodded "It's just a show"

After another moment of him rubbing your back soothingly he spoke again "Can I ask one thing?" You turned to look back at him then nodded "Why were you so attached to Eddie?"

"Hmm someone who knows every metal song there is but also a huge nerd, had issues with school so sees himself as dumb when he's anything but, most people would see as a freak or outsider but ended up being a hero willing to risk his life for people who would never know his sacrifice. Someone who had little family but would do anything for those he cared about"

Dean got quiet as you explained "Oh" "Yeah oh" you replied snuggling tighter in his arms. He kissed your forehead before glancing over at the dresser. He'd give you the tickets Charlie had manged to get her hands on to the stranger things meet and greet the next day, tonight he wanted to hold you because God now he felt like such an ass for ever getting jealous.

"I love you Dean" You whispered turning to fully climb into his lap pressing a hungry kiss to his lips. "I love you too sweetheart" he spoke against your mouth before deepening the kiss.

@marianita195

[art-i-know-yes]

AHH I'M EXCITED LET'S GO

Spoilers Ep.66

The dEscRiption because like a WHAT to WHAAT WITH GLENNNNN

I'm sorry literally one of the only things I've wanted to see is emotionally open Glenn

not the spotify ads

Darryl plays Matt

Hot Take: Darryl hates the environment

That's an oof, Henry

Biiiiig therapy

Horses vs Henry and Cows vs Ron

oooohhhmygahwdbeth

"I know what you said and I ignored it"

WOOOOOOOOO RON THERAPY

Imagine going to therapy

Awww Ron

I was just high key thinking about them listening outside the door

geeEENETIC TIMELINE

"That's depressing"

Those are liike good rollssssss

mmmnnnnn nevermind

Kinda wanna dig up clams

I-I mean why not

I guess that's a good idea to teach them how to drive huh

"No, that's ok"

WHY'D HE SAY IT LIKE THAT

They're too emotional right now

The keyword they didn't use is HOPEFULLY THEIR DADS SHOOT AT IT

Excuse me too young some countries learned by like 8

Hiiiissss voice

Noooo

"11, that's sounds like it's gonna be sad" "Oooo that tracks for you"

Really!! Glenn followimg laws!!

Kids have these neat abilities called vroom vroom speed vehicle where they get self control

YEEEE KIDS GET TO DRIVE

Ehhh come on Darryl you're making this so depressing

Henry shut up please

"Doooope" "Definitely Lark or Sparrow"

I remember seeing someone call Sparrow a furry

I think that is good idea for flexibility because I did not think if that because if I'm honest I only trust TJ to drive we saw what Lark and Sparrow driving was like

Can TJ still like use magic

THE LAUGHTER THAT THAT CAME OUT OF ME I CAN NOT DESCRIBE NEAR TEARS IM TELLING YOU NEAR TEARS

"I'm sure Grant is gonna be fine, but if ya know, Lark dies or something-" "WHAT THE FVCK DARRYL" DARRYL YOU CAN'T USE THEEEEEM AS AN EXAMPLE

But also my second thought was Nick and I made myself lose it

"Ok so Terry dies-" "NOOOOO-" "Ok fine you have two kids. Let's say Sparrow dies-"

THEY COULD JUST BE INJURED WE DON'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THE WORST SITUATIONS

We should camouflage it again, both of them

Toooo thhhee raaaaaat

A LITTLE CONCERNED

Well I'm already in tears so

Real Nick Jr.? It's just Nick

Don't bring the Lawwrdd into this

Accidentally teaching him to dRIIIVVEEE HE CAN BARELY REACH THE WHEEL LET ALONE THE BRAKE OR GAS

But like literally watch Nick Jr. have to drive and does it perfectly

They are way to into the crab mech

He immediately started yelling-I'm just making noises at this point

Not the escape static I mean USEFUL but like the reverse j-turn is a little later

What did your dad teach you Glenn

This is why they're doing different sections

...I can barely do a regular reverse turn...

"I'M ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE I WAANT TO FATHER"

Straight cut to "A few quick things in no specific order"

This is about what I expected with Willy as his father

Terry Jr. is having an existential crisis

Roooonnn

Understeer????

GlArK

"My son's name is not Glark" "HAVE YOU BEEN CALLING ME GLARK AND I JUST HAVEN'T NOTICED"

Not quoting the handbook

W-was Ron used as a getaway driver

TJ is big brain

"Use morse code" "Ok anyone wanna teach me morse code"

I just imagine Glenn turning around and like the Office "Quite an imagination on this kid"

"I'm in a dark place" respectable. thanks for being honest.

Honestly that's what I was thinking. Actually very close to that tune.

AWWWWWWW

CYCLISTS

I love you so much Sparrow

"*sniffle* you run 'em over son"

I... am so scared to see who's getting this roll

I desperately hope that twins aren't 1 and 2

This is a competition to them. I know it.

A 23!!!

Awwwwwwww poor baby nonononono

AWWWWW RONNN COMFORTING TJ

I'm not sure if you can tell who's my favorite father-son duo (or characters im general)

Noooooo Terrrryyyy (but like honestly SAME)

A VESPA

HE'S NOT THE DRIVER BUT LIKE STILL I KINDA THINK IT'S THE BEST CHOICE

"I know!"

"I purely know maps I'm the advocate"

CALLOUTS

This is the perfect team up

"And then also Sparrow"

"Idk we can tie them to like a stick or something"

Oh yeah the pillars

Doug is better than literally all philosophers

NONONONO

Is...Ron meta?

Not Elizabeth Warden

OH FVCK

That...doesn't sound good cause like...the underground part

mnnnmmnnnmmmnnn bombssss

"There was this show called Chernobyl" PFFT-

Yesss Bomb shelter beer

Ron's a genius

Hesoundsalittlesalty

"Sounds like somebody cares"

It doesn't sound like we'll make it to ep. 69

The humming is so funny to me

Ron *is* meta

I would LOVE to figure out what Glenn is actually thinking about Nick

YA KNOW WHAT THAT IS A BIG PROBLEM

I don't think mentally I'm ready for what is going to come out

I SCREAMED emotionally i am not recovered from loosing Nick hypothetically I am completely very ok it

*Cooooool*

Just the way he said it Hennrrrryyyyy

"Well, that sounds healthy"

He's really switching this conversation at them

We love Ron-Glenn solidarity

ahhhhh Henry rants

TOLERANT, SORT OF AFFECTION AHHHHAHAHHAHAHAHA

"We are Olive Garden"

Sir, that's a ring of self-sacrifice if you're willing

oooooo that hurts

I..dont know what to say. I'm in shock. My body literally has like tingles all over and my heart dropped. Is Erin ok? How'd he get there? How much does he know? I can't feel anything right now so much and many emotions

~20 minites of sitting in silence and shock later~

I WAS THINKING WHY WOULD THE DRAGON BE AFTER HIM CAUSE HE TOLD RADIOLAB WHAT HE WAS DOING AND WHY AHHH HE MADE HIM ROLL TWICE FOR THAT TO FUKIN WEAKEN HIM I KNEW IT WAS FUKING WEIRD THERE WAS NO WAY GOD

THE GASPS THEY KNEW IT THE MINUTE HE SAID IT

WTFWTFWTF IM SHAKING

CAN YOU HEAL THIS?! NO YOU CAN'T WHAT DO WE DO?! THE COUNTING! THE REMOTE REWIND? THE NEW ITEMS? 15SECONDS15SECONDS15SECONDS. WE CAN NOT LOSE GLENN RIGHT NOW CAN WE PAUSE. CAN WE BREAK THE SPELL LIKE THAT? WHAT IF IT DOESNT WORK? HE SOUNDS SO SERIOUS. IM SO SCARED BUT LIKE FUVK. HE'S GOOD BUT LIKE NOT THAT GOOD RIGHT BECAUSE GLENN WAS ALREADY WHAT 3 LEVELS ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE? YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!!!AHHHHHH GLENN! NOOOOOOOO GODDAMIT HE PROBABLY HAS LEGENDARY ACTIONS I FUKIN THOUGHT ABOUT IT! OMGAWWD SLIGHT OF HAND SNEAK ATTACK. AHHHHG MODIFIERS SCARE ME.

I KNEW I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT

FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR YES HAHAHAHAHHA FVCK YOU

OH GAWD HENRY HEALED HIM

YOU FVKING SLVT ANTHONY

they were sooooooooo close

I swear to god we better see Glenn again or I'm killing someone

I'm having a late reaction tears are coming once I fully process.

BUT REALLY *RIGHT* AFTER THE HEART TO HEART

[misterghostfrog]

39 FOR THE PROMPTS PLEASE AAAAA

LOOK OK, i’m going to start by saying this one... got away from me a little bit. And I didn’t originally mean to combine the prompts, and neither are technically correct. BUT consider you can’t stop me

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

30. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

Cw; This takes place after the unknowing but before Jon wakes up in canon, and Martin starts in a rough headspace. Also accidental compulsion.

(This is actually a sorta part-2 to the pre-unknowing ficlet I did! Tho u don’t gotta read it to understand it works as a standalone too. Anyway welcome to the AU ZONE)

EDIT: fixed a typo

Martin usually visits Jon on Thursday.

He used to visit every day. But the nurses began to give him looks after the first month, and it was hard to balance checking on Jon with regular life things like groceries, laundry, and work. So he’s cut back. If only to preserve his sanity.

He considered Sunday. But Sunday is the day he visits his mum, another thing that has been hard to balance with- well. Everything. Besides, it’s hard to stack that much heartbreak into one day.

The receptionist gives him a funny look. He would give himself a funny look too, he looks a wreck, he knows it. She knows him, so seeing him on a wednesday looking like he crawled out of the back end of hell. Or maybe just hasn’t done any laundry for a few days. Or showered. And got in a fight and lost.

He’s already waited too long though, he thinks. He... well. It’s his last chance, he supposes. If Jon isn’t coming back, then...

Yeah.

It’ll be for the best.

He turns the knob on the door, he knows what he’ll say. Even if he’s talking to a dead man he needs a speech apparently. And-

He bounces off of something- or someone. Who trips back a step in turn.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry-” He says almost automatically.

“No, don’t worry about it I wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t even looking where I was going a-and-”

“Really it’s fine-”

The man isn’t a nurse, Martin’s sees that much. He’s tall-ish. Handsome, certainly. Definitely no-one he’s ever met. And certainly no-one he thinks might have a reason to visit Jon. Not that Jon shouldn't get handsome visitors, but- well. He doesn’t- didn’t? Have many people outside of the institute he ever talked about. And so this guy turning up out of the blue is... well.

“Er- I’m sorry, but who... who are you?”  He’s not- he’s not upset. that this random stranger is visiting Jon. It’s just weird is all. Yeah. Really weird, actually.

“Oh! I- I’m- I’m a friend of Jons.” The man says with an awkward smile, his eyes darting down to his shoes for a moment as he says it. “Er- Antonio.” He tacks the name on like an afterthought. This time his gaze flicks somewhere around Martin's shoulder, he shuffles on his feet.

Martin’s never been an expert at picking up on lies, not to say he’s bad at it. He just doesn’t find it something to worry about generally. But it’s hard not to notice when ‘Antonio’ is basically holding an imaginary blinking neon sign that says ‘I AM LYING’ with accompanying metaphorical Morse code with the same message.

He swears he’s heard that name before though.

“Oh. Er- he’s never um, talked about you?” he says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Very old friends. Haven’t um- talked in a while.” ‘Antonio’ waves a hand awkwardly. And casting consistent looks towards the elevator.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway! I’m uh- I’ll be going now. Visits over stuff to do y’know.” He’s already walking away as he says it, backing up for a moment and casting a quick wave before trotting away down the hall.

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure, bye?” Martin waves- though ‘Antonio’ isn’t looking. Watching as he basically runs down the hall.

“Bye!” ‘Antonio’ throws over his shoulder as he turns the corner to the elevators.

Well then.

“Huh.”

That’s not how he thought this visit was going to start.

He pauses for a moment. He’d been working off of something of a momentum. Check in with the nurse, make his speech. And be ready to say his goodbyes. But that... whatever just happened. Well, it threw him off.

He sighs.

It doesn’t matter. Weirdo visiting Jon. Seems about right, actually. If he thinks about it. Probably left a statement somewhere too, just to complete the weird weird picture.

The word ‘weird’ is starting to sound less like the a word the more he thinks about it.

He pushes the door to the hospital room open, he knows he’s imagining it. But the air feels heavier. The dread of the situation. The finality. Jon is still there, unmoving in his hospital bed. There's several machines tucked into the corner, they’d unhooked him from everything after the first month when it became clear that this is simply his state of being. That’s also about the time the nurses started telling him Jon probably wasn’t waking up.

He’s not going to wake up. Martin knows he’s not going to wake up. He’s been fooling himself for so long but now with the flesh attack he needs to do something. Or at the very least stop feeling like he’s doing nothing. But being miserable isn’t a solution either. 

Maybe there is no solution. Maybe it’s just, problems. Stuff he can’t fix or deal with and just- has to let it follow him until he dies.

He shifts, and his ankle twinges.

He’d tripped. It’s so stupid, it wasn’t even the monsters. He’d just- fallen and ended up hiding in a side room while everyone else dealt with meaty things crawling out of the floorboards. Just sat and hid and did nothing.

He’s tired of doing nothing.

Jon snores, interrupting his train of thought.

Martin smiles, god he’d forgotten Jon did that. Those little snorting snores- he’d only heard them a few times, back at the institute. It had scared the hell out of him the first time he’d been living-

Wait.

What?

Martin blinks. And watches as Jon scrunches his nose, making a small irritated noise- and turns over.

What.

His head skips, rewinds. Plays what he just saw back. Jon is breathing, how long has he been breathing? Doesn’t matter, he’s breathing which means he’s alive but what-

That weird guy. “Antonio”

He’s gone, Martin knows he’s gone. But he checks anyway. Even running all the way to the elevators. But he’s gone.

And Jon...

Jon is alive.

The thought hits his brain, and then slips away like a wet fish. There’s no guarantees. This could be a fluke, this could be a trap. It might not even be Jon. Just... something that looks like him, and snores like him. And-

A nurse taps him on the shoulder. And he realizes he’s been staring at the elevators for, well, he doesn’t know how long. Long enough to catch several concerned glances from passers-by though.

“Are you alright sir?” She asks, politely. He recognizes her, he chatted with her once when visiting Jon. She’s nice. She does the check ups a lot of the time, one of the few who’ll actually do it.

“He’s alive.” He says flatly, instead of answering. Because he’s not sure what the answer to the question is anyway.

The doctors do tests, though not many. According to them he’s fine. Fit as a fiddle aside from some fatigue and a little confusion. Which clearly makes them uncomfortable. Which he understands. A man wakes up from a three-month coma like he’d just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning? It makes him uncomfortable too, he thinks.

Basira drops off a statement. ‘Just felt like I should’ she’d said when he asked why. And neither of them felt particularly good about that answer.

After the statement he’s fine, not even fatigued. He’s alive.

He keeps looking at Martin.

Martin isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look back.

Maybe it’s because it still feels like a trap, all of a sudden he comes back with no- no fanfare no effort. Right as rain and just... there.

Nobody else wants to deal with him right now- not after he just pulled a Lazarus like that. Jon wants to go to the institute. But Martin isn’t having it. He just woke up from a three-month coma. He’s going home. And yes- his lease apparently expired before the unknowing, so he doesn’t have a place to stay. And yes the only person willing to give him a place to stay is Martin. And Martin... well, it’s Jon. and even if it wasn’t, in the wake of losing three months of his life- and a friend. Or someone who had been a friend at a point before this all went to hell. He wouldn’t leave him alone for anything.

Martin tries to force himself to come to terms with it as they both climb into his car- this is what he wanted. He should be overjoyed. But it feels... it feels like if he looks at Jon for too long he’ll just... disappear. Or stop breathing again. Or stop being Jon.

“Good to see not too much has changed while I was gone.” Jon says wryly as he wrestles with the seatbelt. Which squeaks as he struggles to pull it out far enough to actually fasten it.

Martin just hums in response. Not trusting his voice not to betray whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

The drive to his flat is mostly quiet, aside from a few awkward attempts at conversation from Jon that all fall miserably flat. Eventually he gives up, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence. 

It’s not too far from the hospital to his flat. So before he knows it he’s leading Jon up the steps to his home.

It’s not much, he knows. Can’t afford anything truly fancy when carrying medical bills around. But it’s nice, homey. He hopes.

“Home sweet home.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and hoping he sounds cheery. Because he doesn’t know what else to be right now. He’s figured out what emotion he’s feeling, though he’s not sure it counts as an emotion honestly.

Numb. 

Stupid, isn’t it? 

“The bathrooms down the hall- I think your stuff’s all in storage at the moment,” his voice wobbles at that, he swallows “so we’ll have to go get that soon. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge-” He’s stopped by a hand on his wrist. Familiar, too-thin, and cool.

“Martin.” Jon says. “Did I... did I do something to upset you?” It’s a question, small and helpless. Martin just wants to brush it off, he’s fine. He just needs time-

“You died, Jon.” He says instead. The words coming out unbidden.

“I- I came back.” He tightens his grip on Martins wrist for a moment before loosening  “In one piece even. I believe that was a part of our agreement” There’s a note of teasing in that last part, Martin wishes it was funny.

“I said come back safe Jon, not ‘come back from the dead’” Jon's hand drops from his wrist.

“Do you not... Are you not glad I’m back?” He sounds- sad. Of course he sounds sad Martin basically just said he wished he'd died.

“Of course I’m glad your back, I just-”

“Then what’s wrong?” The words are just- they’re just words. But Martin feels something pull in his chest.

Martin looks at Jon for the first time since the hospital.

“I’m scared, Jon! I You were dead for three months, Y-you didn’t even have a heartbeat and I-” He brings a hand upland runs it through his hair, Jon doesn’t need to hear this. He should be resting not listening to Martin dump his issues like this- “you were dead and I was the only one left. A-and yeah you came back, but- god what even is this! You’re just, fine. A-and I’m- I don’t want you to not be fine but I- I can’t even prove to myself that you’re real and not- I-I don’t-” He forces himself to stop. clamping his jaw shut around the words that suddenly feel like they’re pushing at the back of his throat like bile. Jon stares back at him, eyes wide and confused and hurt. He’s disheveled and still wearing the pajamas Martin had brought for him in the first week. Small and tired and maybe even real. He looks at Jon until he can’t because his vision begins to blur and his eyes begin to burn.

“Martin, I- I’m- I’m sorry I-” Jon's blurry form moves, and Martin shuts his eyes. Shaking his head. He should be the one apologizing, Jon didn’t need to hear that and he just- threw it at him.

“I’m-” Martin tries to apologize, but it comes out as little more than a croak. Cool hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes. Jon's face is closer now, eyes scanning desperately over Martin's face.

“I- I’m not- I don’t know what I am but I’m- I-I’m me. I-I promise, I don’t know how to prove it to you but I-” Jon starts, and Martin can see his lips move to form the words-

Jon is here, he’s alive. He’s awake. His hands are on Martin's cheeks and he’s running his thumb through the tear tracks, fumbling over awkward reassurances. and looking so, so earnest. Hell, he made a joke about a conversation nobody else heard. Something just between the two of them, nobody else. And to fear entities, maybe that doesn’t matter. But for now, with Jon so close and acting so perfectly imperfectly Jon. Martin can let- no. Make himself believe. Jon’s not dead, it’s not a trap. Not right now, not yet. Just for right now, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

It doesn’t take much to lean forward, pressing their lips together. Jon makes a small, cut-off sound of surprise before melting into it, letting a hand move to the back of Martin's hair and the other fall to his shoulder. Martin's arms wrapping around Jon's waist.

Eventually they have to part for air. Martin doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Jon's breath on his face, and his hand in his hair and it’s all just another reminder he’s alive. And so wonderfully real.

He feels Jon move after a moment, using the hand he’s left on the back of Martin's head to guide him down. Pressing now-warm lips to the wet patches on his cheeks. Martin tries to laugh, he’s not sure why. It all just seems a little absurd all of a sudden. but it comes out as sort of a wet hiccup. Prompting Jon to tilt his head, and lock their lips together again.

Martin doesn’t know how long they stand in his entryway, trading kisses and just... being in each other's arms. But it’s long enough he’s run out of tears for Jon to try to kiss away, and the strange wired feeling has faded. Leaving him tired and heavy and in desperate need of a lie-down.

He pulls back, though not far. He can still feel Jon's lips against his as he speaks.

“Please don’t die again.” He says softly.

Jon sighs, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and Martin can feel the words as Jon's mouth brushes his as much as he hears them. And then he kisses Martin again, like he’s trying to seal the words there with his lips.

And, Martin supposes that promise was enough last time. It might be more than enough for him now.

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

He practically dragged me out of the car in the middle of the night, swearing that he needed me to see 'it', to make sure he wasn't going crazy.

I'd been around Jasper since he'd decided to crash at my place while we attended the big con in town. We'd known each other longer online. It was the first time I was seeing him this afraid, and I was frightened enough to be shaking while he dragged me off the road and into the woods.

"What did you see, Jasper?" With some struggle, I freed my hand from his grasp and we walked into a forest clearing.

Jasper pointed at a tree around the clearing's edge. "That tree is making sounds." He looked at me with full moon eyes. "I went to take a piss there, and it's... it's humming. I don't know why it's humming. You have to believe me, it's humming!"

I bit my lip and considered bolting to the car and taking off right there. That wasn't me, though. I nodded at him instead, tucked my hair behind my ears, really tried hard to come up with a suitable response.

A few minutes later, we were at the tree.

"Wait here." Jasper gestured at me with a raised hand. "Just wait here, it'll start humming any moment now."

"Jasp, we need to find a motel, remember? We can't... just... are you high?"

He touched the bark of the tree and dug his nails into it. "I don't know why it isn't working. It happened when I was peeing here. Right here!"

I jumped away immediately. "You what? God, that is disgusting, Jasper. I'm leaving."

And I did. I hurried towards the car, but when I turned around towards the moonlit clearing, he was still at the tree, standing with both of his hands against the bark, like he was trying to push the tree.

I opened my mouth to shout at him to hurry on or be left behind, but I wasn't sure if shouting at 12:30 am in the woods at night was a good idea. So instead, I waved, hoping he'd turn around and see me.

When Jasper turned around, he waved back and pointed at the tree. Perhaps his lips moved—it was hard to tell in the dim light. I gestured at him to get a move on.

He finally agreed, and we returned to the car. The doors slammed shut, seatbelts on, and we took off from there. Yard after yard, the uneasiness melted away.

"What happened back there, Jasper?" I asked.

Jasper hummed. It wasn't a tune, but it also wasn't a stable humming. What Jasper was humming was erratic enough to sound like morse code.

"You doing okay, man?" I glanced at him as I drove.

He looked straight ahead and continued humming.

When we reached the motel, we got out, and I approached the reception. I asked for a room, and the owner asked if I was alone. About to gesture at my companion, I turned around, only to find him not there.

I returned to the car and found his things still in the back. Footprints on the damp earth went back into the forest.

After that, I never sought him out, and I never found him.

[pitterpatterpot]

I absolutely love your A lions Pride fanfiction, especially Aedions relationship with Gavriel of course. But also Aedions bickering with Killlyan and I have a cute headcannon for them:

Aedion is doing pull ups with Kyllian, when they are finished, but are still hanging on the pole, Kyllian challenges Aedion to keep on hanging on it and see who can hold himself up the longest.

Fast forward, Kyllian loses and let's go of it, but Aedion still hangs on it. Then Aedion teases him about it and is like ,haha, I won, I could have kept on hanging here forever.

The Kyllian walks towards him and kisses him (while Aedion is still hanging on the pole, so he can't walk away), Aedion is then of course very surprised.

This is kinda how I imagined their first kiss😂

This is also clearly set before Lysandra and Kingdom of ash. Maybe he tells this Gavriel when he is asking Aedion about his past relationships, or something.

I think it is really cute and I hope you can include it in a prompt or maybe a chapter, but it's totally up to you and I hope you like it.

I LOVE this and I ran with it.

I included the Morse code prompt I got into this one because I remembered that Aedion used it with Ren when they were kids and it was just too cute a chance to pass up!

~~~

“I swear,” Brooklan growls, his fork bending in his hand, “if you two don’t stop that bloody tapping-“

“We’re not doing anything,” Kyllian grins, shooting Aedion a look.

The campfire roars, soldiers sitting around it and drinking their whiskey. It’s only a small party of five, deployed to stay the night in Rosamel before heading back to the main encampment. Yet even with the alcohol in their systems the three others notice how Kyllian and Aedion tap on their swords and shields.

“I know what it is,” Kayrel insists, sloshing her bottle forth. “They’re communicating. Making fun of us old bastards.”

Aedion raises a brow. “Yes, I taught Kyllian the code I used as a child specifically so we could talk about everyone over thirty behind their back.”

“That’s exactly what you did,” Brooklan glowers, seething.

It’s with that the fifth member of their party finally shakes her head, done with their antics.

“Alright, I’m turning in,” Mayla sighs, standing and offering her hand to Kayrel. “Some of us actually like going to sleep with our wives.”

Kayrel grins. “We’ll be sleeping?”

The three males grown at the excess information, Mayla shaking her head in amusement as guiding her tipsy wife back to the inn. Brooklan watches them go then huffs, eyeing Aedion and Kyllian once more as the two males look at each other over the fire, back to the tapping.

“Well,” Brooklan slaps his thighs, hauling himself up, “you boys put out the fire. I’m turning in.”

“A commander and I’m the one doing the grunt work,” Aedion snorts, already shoveling snow over the flames despite his words.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be the general one day of your own army,” Kyllian smiles, smothering the last of the embers. “Though I don’t know why you would be chosen with those weak muscles of yours.”

Aedion freezes, brows shooting up. “Excuse me?”

Kyllian shrugs. “Just saying, you struggled a little in drills yesterday. I’d hate to see you slipping.”

They mule in the silence, the snow cracking under their feet as they collect their gear. Kyllian chuckles silently to himself, waiting for the confrontation.

“Slipping?”

There it is.

“Slipping,” Kyllian agrees, facing Aedion and shrugging. “Decreasing in ability.”

Aedion inhales deeply, his grin betraying his real delight at the bait. “If I’m ‘slipping’ then clearly you wouldn’t mind a little friendly competition.”

“Me? Never,” Kyllian agrees. “What do you have in mind, your highness?”

Aedion points to the tree opposite them, it’s low hanging branches reaching just above their heads. “Whoever holds their own weight the longest.”

“Are we adding prizes, to this?”

“Whoever does drop first is the one who needs extra training,” Aedion declares.

Studying the branches, Kyllian rolls his shoulders and cricks his neck. Then he grins, strutting over to the tree, jumping up, and wrapping his hands over the top of a sturdy branch to hang his weight. He looks to Aedion in challenge.

The demi-fae smirks, immediately jumping to grab the branch opposite him. They both stop smiling at the ominous creak the tree gives, expressions turning concerned. It settles and they both relax, throwing each other a grin.

About three minutes pass in silence and Kyllian’s arms are trembling. When he analyses Aedion he can see the strain in the other males arms, yet it’s nothing compared to his own. Aedion notices this, triumph already glaring in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take a little weight?”

“I can take weight. I carry this whole damn army.”

Aedion barks a laugh at that, quickly stifling it so as to not lose his grip. Kyllian finally drops, swearing, and the other crows in victory. That cry is quickly swallowed when Kyllian struts towards him. Aedion swallows, skin heating at the look in the males dark eyes despite the chill of the early winter air.

“I win,” Aedion croaks, clearing his throat immediately.

“Hmm,” Kyllian hums, prowling closer.

One arm reaches up, tapping a pattern on Aedion’s bicep, and the demi-fae widens his eyes. Kyllian studies him for a moment, tapping out the pattern again. Aedion swallows.

He growls under his breath when Kyllian’s hands wrap around his wait, pulling him and the branch down further so their lips meet. Aedion meets back with equal enthusiasm.

At least until the branch breaks.

[internalsealpanic]

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it. 

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.  

word count:  5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal. 

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting.  You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral, 

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step. 

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once. 

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license. 

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back. 

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young. 

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place. 

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA! 

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you. 

Fucking hilarious. 

Just fanfuckingtastic. 

You’d see about that. 

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief. 

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones. 

You were going to get him back. 

You will. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend. 

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.  

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused. 

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head. 

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked. 

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win. 

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook. 

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted.  he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him. 

“Are you even literate?” He joked. 

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught. 

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

 You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high. 

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you. 

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”. 

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead. 

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty. 

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably. 

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.   

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that  your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand. 

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to. 

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering  and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard. 

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged. 

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter. 

“Fine,” 

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard. 

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope. 

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing. 

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it. 

Jason owed you big time. 

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup. 

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug. 

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug. 

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it. 

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets. 

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.  

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much? 

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration. 

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked. 

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you. 

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared. 

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open. 

You were going to be sick. 

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a  bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months. 

Now,  you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss. 

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile. 

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if  you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much. 

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you. 

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts. 

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry. 

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person. 

Focus. 

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further. 

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything. 

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue. 

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun. 

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt  Jason. 

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms. 

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.  

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence. 

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty. 

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen. 

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened. 

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft. 

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker. 

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness.  Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb. 

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours. 

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing. 

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface. 

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics. 

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest. 

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl. 

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder.  You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them.  Seriously fuck them. 

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin. 

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-  

You woke up on the damp earth. 

Everything ached. 

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish. 

Your mind even more so. 

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes. 

Your senses returned to you one by one. 

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness. 

Your fingers felt cold and numb. 

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses. 

That wasn’t right. 

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago. 

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint. 

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically. 

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone. 

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you. 

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back. 

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself. 

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought. 

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing. 

 Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable. 

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

  He was dead. 

  He died. 

  He was in Ethiopia. 

  He was trying to save his mom. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Where is Bruce? 

  Where is he? 

  Why is it so dark? 

  Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in. 

  That’s when the smell of earth hit him. 

  Jason pressed his hands every which way. 

  He was literally boxed in. 

  Was he in a coffin?

  He tried to scream. 

  His mouth was wired shut. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god.

  Oh god. 

  He was going to die.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments. 

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back. 

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist: 

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

[massensterben-a]

1. What does your muse smell like?

Bertholdt retains his own scent quite easily. He smells faintly of warm wood with a salt-sweet touch, somewhat musky. Due to his high body temperature his clothing also keeps his scent for quite a while after he takes it off. He prefers soaps with a herbal scent to them so that is also something by which to recognize him. (Fun fact: the official fragrance for Bertholdt includes vanilla, lemon, jasmine, lilac, sandalwood and musk.)

After his return from Paradis, Bertholdt takes up a severe smoking habit which effectively kills his body scent. He smells like cloves and stale smoke now. Nothing to be done about it except stop smoking, but that’s a conversation he won’t be having.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Bertholdt’s hands are very warm. His fingers are long and his hands quite large though utterly in keeping with his height. He has a soft touch when he wants to but is capable of a death grip that’ll break your wrist. They are strong and skilled hands, and surprisingly nimble. Over the course of his tenure on Paradis, especially after the work he did in the refugee settlement, his hands grew quite rough to the touch from constant use. However, after Shiganshina, he had to regrow his extremities a couple of times and the hands he has now would tell you nothing of the physical labor he’s endured in his life. Just another reason why you can’t judge a book by its cover, in his opinion. 

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

Bertholdt will eat anything you set down in front of him. He is constantly hungry. Although he won’t go out of his way to do anything about it, he will also not pass up the chance to eat when it presents itself. He isn’t very interested in breakfast as he is a restless sleeper and has a hard time waking up in the morning. His appetite is not equal to his hunger at all, and he has a rather pragmatic opinion on food. He will eat to regain energy and care about specifics only when he has that luxury. As he grew up dirt poor, he has never had the opportunity to be picky about his food. Either he ate what was there, or he didn’t eat. 

He will usually keep to five to six small meals as opposed to three large ones. He finds it more comfortable and it works better with his overall lifestyle. When given the choice, he will stick to vegetables and seafood as opposed to meat. Meat was a rarity in his childhood and he has never developed a great fondness for it. He enjoys fried food though.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

Yes. I don’t keep to the Japanese VA for my overall voice headcanon for Bertholdt,but since the acting (which is wonderful, nothing but respect for Tomohisa) has little to do with the singing he does here, it counts. I really enjoy the smooth quality of his voice. It is, funnily enough, closer to what I imagine this way. Bertholdt is not likely to sing to anyone, though. He has no training and no practice. He used to sing to himself a little as a child when he found out about the concept of lullabies but felt very stupid about it and didn’t keep it up. He will quietly hum and mouth along when there is some alcohol-based singing going on during a get-together, but that is the most of it. 

The level of intimacy and trust that would have to be established for Bertholdt to freely sing in front of another person has yet to be unearthed. If he were to do it, though, he’d also stick to soft simple melodies, again: lullabies most likely.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

Bertholdt does have some mannerisms that could be called stress responses. For one, when he sits, he will draw his knees up to his chest and hug them, and make himself as small as possible. He does this so he won’t take up more space than necessary and also to feel “safer” in situations which make him uncomfortable. He will also turn non-verbal if he is dealing with emotional turmoil and keep all of it locked up until it explodes out of him in anger. 

After his return from Paradis, his habits and tics get more pronounced. He still has trouble articulating himself in emotionally charged moments, but what is more prominent is his smoking habit. He does it to combat stress and insomnia and swears it works. Whether it does... Eh. He consistently smokes a pack a day but will go through them faster when he is more agitated. 

He is also has taken up a nervous tic that involves him tapping his fingers (especially his nails) on flat surfaces around him. He is subconsciously tapping out the Paradisian equivalent for morse code that signals SOS. He picked this up during his time in the Underground and found some comfort in the repeating rhythm when he needed to calm himself. He is not aware that his tapping translates as a call for help. 

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

When he isn’t wearing whatever uniform he is supposed to be wearing at the given time, he will usually opt for long-sleeved shirts and sweaters. He is fond of dark mute colors, especially blue tones. He prefers to dress conventionally but has a taste for clothing that suggests a higher social standing than he has. He will dress more maturely than his age as well, button-down shirts and cloth trousers especially. He was taught by his father that appearances are important and must be kept. Even when his father barely had the money to feed him, he’d still make sure Bertholdt was well-dressed when he sent him out to find money. Bertholdt kept that attitude and dresses accordingly. 

Even after he leaves Paradis, he will usually look deceptively well put-together despite the terrible wreck the rest of his life is at any given point. He will usually wear the uniform provided him by Marley, however, and does not bother with civilian clothing all that much. The uniform serves its purpose. He will, however, wear long trenchcoats on colder days.

7. Is your muse affectionate?  How much?  How so?

Well, no. Bertholdt has never been reared to exhibit affectionate behavior and hasn’t been shown it from his father as a child. His first brush with it happens when he befriends the other warrior candidates and though he very much enjoys it, he has trouble reciprocating adequately. Bertholdt shows his affections through casual touches and shared activities (e.g. sparring, which to him feels like the one ‘appropriate’ way to be close to others excessively. The rituals are intricate, we know, we know.)

As he grows up, Bertholdt also grows more into himself. He must be coaxed into affection though he is not averse to it. He isn’t a great cuddler by nature and feels put on the spot when he tries to be affectionate with his words. His most honest displays of affection are still physical and will include light touches to shoulder or back, standing in close proximity or the like. 

When he returns from Paradis, Bertholdt has fully grown touch-averse and wouldn’t be caught dead exhibiting signs of vulnerability, if he had his way, anyway. He reacts negatively to most displays of affection unless they are somehow covered up and disguised as indirect. He feels he is not deserving of affection and also has no impulse to be affectionate with others. But we’ll get him there eventually.

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

All of them, and a few you haven’t even heard of.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Rarely. He doesn’t usually walk with a heavy step unless he is marching, and is not in the habit of making a lot of noise. If he is in conversation or the like it could be easier to overhear him, though, as he doesn’t usually regulate his volume when he is in private. Sometimes he just has things to say.

Tagged by: @oncejaw​ (<3)

Tagging: @gepanzrt @primasolaris (Jean or Meg) @gedrillt @leastregrets @hiisflame @worstheir​

[pilot-boi]

Missing In Action: Chapter Five

Grace Is Wasted

Take all the courage you have left, and waste it on fixing all the problems in your own head.

AO3 LINK

It’s day three. Or four, maybe. It’s the third time he’d woken up, at any rate. It was hard to tell how much time had passed without windows, and Commando and his lackeys would punish him if he asked any questions. 

That didn’t stop him from asking. The lack of information was driving him crazy. Although the fact that the torture wasn’t slowing down was probably also a major contributor to that. Not that they were any closer to getting answers out of him.

Every muscle ached. He’d had more trips to the Tub than he could count, and he was becoming concerningly used to the feeling of water in his lungs, and of waking up in places he didn’t remember traveling to. The lack of autonomy wasn’t helping things, but his legs weren’t really working properly. He couldn’t focus as well as he should be able to, and the general fuzziness in his brain was affecting his coordination.

That was probably the lack of food’s fault.

Jaune’s stomach rumbled in response, as if sensing that he was thinking about it. He glared down at it, silently willing it to shut up. Not that he could really see it, his cell was  pitch black after all.

The food was messing with his perception of time as well. Jaune wasn’t too proud to admit that his life was regimented into time before a meal, and time after a meal. He was a growing boy, food was a must. A requirement. And the lack of it was taking him out of the real world more than he’d like to admit.

The first day or so he’d been able to tell how much time was passing by when his stomach would grumble and protest or ache from lack of food, but now all of him ached and he was always hungry. So that was no help anymore.

Commando at least was providing him with water. Sour, mildewed water, but water nonetheless. So he was unlikely to die anytime soon. Just suffer. And wasn’t that just dandy?

Light peeked into the room as the door creaked open. Jaune squinted into it, wincing after the hours of darkness. “Is it morning already?” Jaune rasped, trying to sound casual. “I thought you guys might’ve forgotten about me.”

The tall man didn’t respond, he never did, but his companion chuckled darkly. That was all the response he ever got out of these two. Fear of Commando kept them from saying anything more to him. Honestly Jaune couldn’t blame them, he’d be scared of Commando, too.

Not that he was scared of the man. Nope. Not at all. And it wasn’t like he was likely to have a meaningful conversation with Rando and Blondie, but he was starving for human interaction. It was just another thing they were depriving him of.

Jaune had taken to talking to himself, if only to make sure that he still could talk. He was certain that that was perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about there.

Rando unlocked the chain from the wall and let Jaune drop onto the ground. Every time he’d see it coming, and he’d try his hardest to catch himself, but after who knew how many hours not using his arms… Well it would be easier to compare his arms to limp noodles than to actual arms. 

“Aw come on guys,” Jaune groaned, attempting to push himself back up off the floor, “Didja have to drop me? Every gods damned time.” Rando hefted him up from the floor and yanked him towards the door, perhaps more roughly than he normally would’ve done. 

The barely healing bruises and scrapes on his wrists flared with pain. His shoulder wasn’t pleased either, and was telling him so through a morse code message of lightning bolts and pain and throbbing. Fun stuff! Good stuff. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today,” Jaune grumbled, and got clubbed in the side of the head for his trouble.

Blondie led the way down the hallway, twirling the keys on his finger and whistling merrily. Jaune glanced around the dark hall, trying to see if there was some sign posted to explain why Blondie seemed to cheery. Maybe it was the man’s birthday. Well too bad, Blondie, you weren’t gonna be getting a present from him, no-sir-ee bob.

Jaune belatedly realized that he was muttering this all under his breath when Blondie chuckled again. Dammit Jaune, keep it together. Can’t crack this early, he had a responsibility to everyone to keep it together. 

Tensing against his will as they approached the now too-familiar door in front of the room with the Tub, Jaune dug in his heels, anything to stop them from going in the room. And then they were passing by the door. Jaune sagged in relief, feet stumbling over themselves when Rando yanked the chain to get him moving again.

A new torture then? Jaune dreaded to think of what Commando could’ve come up with now. Lasers? Sharks? Laser sharks?! The possibilities were endless. 

Blondie was coming to a halt by a door now, and pulling it open to let Rando drag him in. Jaune followed cautiously, eyes roving the new space for any way to escape, or for any hint of what was coming.

It was a small room. Concrete walls, not a crack to be seen, and a single chair. The chair looked like one of those ones he’d seen in the hairdressers his mom and then his sisters would drag him to, the ones with the big globe thingies over them. This one looked far less welcoming though.

The straps on the arms, legs, and headrest would do that. Fat black wires were running to it from a metal rectangle of a machine in the corner. Commando was standing by the machine, fiddling with dials, flipping switches, pressing buttons. 

Jaune tried not to think of how much this set up looked like the vault in Beacon. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone if his mind got sucked back into the past.

Rando shoved him into the chair, and got one of the manacles locked over Jaune’s arm before he could jump up. Blondie got the other arm locked in, and then fastened the ones around his chest. “So, Boss Man, what’s the plan for today?” Jaune called over to the man, doing his best to ignore what the two men were doing.

He couldn’t move again. Great. Just dandy. 

“Tsk, tsk, Jauney,” Commando chided him from the controls, “What have we gone over about asking questions?” The helmet thing was lowered around Jaune’s head, where it sat menacingly. Or as menacingly as a helmet thingy could sit. 

“And the nicknames, those have gotta end, kid.” He pressed a button and a pair of somethings detached from inside the helmet and spiked into the skin at his temples with a sharp sting of pain. They...They actually broke through the skin! How the hell did they do that? What happened to his Aura?! “Insubordination is a big no-no around here.”

Commando pressed a button on his console, and sparks of electricity arced from the machine directly into Jaune’s scalp. 

Now, Jaune had been electrocuted before. He’d been an idiot teenager, and zapped his fingers with batteries. Once one of his younger sisters turned the lights back on while he was changing them and he fell off a ladder from the shock. And with being on a team with Nora the human lightning bolt, electrocution was an occupational hazard.

This was nothing like that.

He jumped as the electricity seemed to short circuit the neurons in his brain. His muscles spasmed and contracted involuntarily, receiving too many signals and too few signals simultaneously. And he could feel the skin around the electrodes burning and blistering. 

Jaune was used to passing, accidental charges. He was in no way prepared for a focused shock, meant to stun and hurt.

The shock only lasted a second, but even that was one second too long. Jaune sagged against his restraints, glaring up at Commando when the man chuckled. “Yeah that stings a bit doesn’t it, boy?” Commando took up the now familiar spot in front of Jaune and the shorter of the two henchmen took his place at the controls.

Jaune pulled against the restraints experimentally, but he couldn’t budge them an inch. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew what was coming now. Question time.

“Let’s begin,” Commando said, standing at attention before him and crossing his arms behind his back. “Where is the Relic of Knowledge?”

“Like I’d tell you that,” Jaune scoffed, and strained against his bonds when a jolt of energy shot through him, frying his nerve endings.

“What have I said about back talk, kid?” the man tsked, and nodded to Blondie at the controls. Blondie changed something, and the machine he was strapped into hummed a little louder. Jaune grimaced nervously and glanced over at the man. “Don’t worry about him, worry about me,” Commando interrupted, snapping his fingers. “Now, where is the Relic of Knowledge?”

“I don’t know-” he started, getting cut off by a longer, and somewhat stronger jolt of electricity. Jaune yelped in pain, biting his tongue to keep from crying out more, his muscles going rigid and his head pounding. His eyes were wide open, and he couldn’t close them if he wanted to. After a second that lasted an eternity, the pain stopped and he slumped against his bonds.

“Don’t lie to me.” Commando was speaking before the aftershocks even got out of his system. The machine hummed a little louder, and Jaune shifted in his restraints as well as he could. He squeezed his eyes shut, relying on years of doing that and having his headaches lessen. It didn’t help this time, but it had been worth a try. “Let’s try this again: Where is the Relic of Knowledge?” 

Jaune just shook his head, not trusting himself to not mouth off again. Commando must have given the signal, because his world exploded in pain again. Behind his closed eyelids, Jaune could swear he could see bolts of lightning shooting across his vision.

His mind was on fire, too many thoughts shooting along his neurons. Somebody was screaming, it might even be him. In an effort to stop, he bit down on his tongue until the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, decided that he would rather lose his vocal chords than his tongue, and went right back to screaming.

“Okay, that’s gonna start to hurt pretty soon” Jaune stuttered, the aftershocks of electricity making the words feel sharp and pointed in his mouth.Or maybe that was from all the yelling. Who’s to say.

An image of the lamp sprang unbidden into Jaune’s mind. He could see it now. Intricate twirling gold framework like lace holding a softly glowing blue lamp. It would be on the table in the living room, or hung swinging from Ruby or Oscar’s belt. 

Jaune hesitated, pain pulsing in his head like a jackhammer. It would be so easy to just say where it was.

But he couldn’t. If they knew where the lamp was, they would know where his friends were. And he couldn’t risk their safety for anything.

“Go to hell,” he spat as defiantly as he could while strapped into an electric chair, delighting in the way that smile finally vanished from Commando’s face.

The two electrodes pressed into his temples and all thoughts fled his mind as the pain in his head increased a thousand-fold. Next thing he knew, he was screaming. His world blotted out, and all he could feel was the tormenting feel of mind-numbing agony. It hurt, oh gods it hurt. Stop. Stop it. Please just end it!

He’d answer any question they gave him now. Anything at all just to get out of this.They were still asking him things, he could see their mouths moving, but he couldn’t hear a thing over the world-ending mind-shattering pain. The knight couldn’t even bring himself to stop screaming long enough to beg for them to stop.

Jaune was dying. He was already dead. He’d always hoped that death was painless, but there was no way this much pain could exist in the living world.

Unable to bear the pain any longer, Jaune’s world went dark.

Commando stopped his line of questions when the boy went limp in the harness. Hm. How typical. But they’d found the upper limit of the boy’s pain tolerance at least. That would prove useful in the coming days, if the boy even lasted that long.

He had to admit, the boy had lasted longer than he’d expected, and had refused to give them any answers to boot. But no matter. He would break in time, they all did.

Jaune woke up again in his cell, chained to the wall. It was definitely colder than it had been before, his breath was fogging up in the darkness in front of him. His muscles were stiff with disuse, and his stomach ached with hunger.

The last thing he could remember was his insides singing.

His eyes were barely blinking open before he was being dragged back out of his cell. Jaune’s feet didn’t want to cooperate with him, but he did at least manage to stay upright.

Then he was back in the Chair. And it all started again. He managed to last a little long this time, because he knew it was coming, but eventually darkness covered his vision again.

The next time he woke up, he was already being dragged down the hallway. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his legs to support his weight. His vision was blurred, and hunger was stabbing at his insides like hot knives. Or maybe that was just the after effects of the shocks.

And then the shock treatment again.The session ended sooner than usual that day. He mustered up the strength to throw a couple stinging insults back in Commando’s face. The man did not like that..

The third time he woke up already in the Chair. Maybe it was the next day, maybe it was still the same session. Jaune had no way of knowing, and what was the difference either way? The end result would be the same, none of it mattered.

Gods he was so tired. The weight of his hunger and exhaustion weighed down on his bones like a lead blanket.

Jaune learned pretty quickly that speaking out would only get him more pain. Nicknames would get him smacked hard enough that stars would blink into existence in front of his eyes. 

A few sessions in the Chair and many repetitions had him realizing that it was better for everyone if he just kept his mouth shut. Wasn’t like he was going to answer their questions anyway. Giving in and calling Commando “Sir” earned him the meal they’d been denying him, even if it turned his stomach to show that man anything even approaching respect. 

Didn’t help him at all that he wolfed down the food so fast that his starving body immediately rejected it. 

It became a routine. Wake up in his cell or already in one of the other rooms, pain and questioning, passing out, questioning and pain, and then back to his cell. And if he was especially good, then he’d get a scrap of food. Like a dog.

A poorly treated, blatantly abused, grossly underfed dog, but a dog nonetheless.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Companions react to Sole being a famous violinist that played Irish/Folk music? (no complaints if Cait's is longer * hint hint *) Love ya work!

Ah this one was fun! You might notice it in this little more in this React than in my others, but I’d just like to point out (in case you haven’t already noticed), I purposely make Sole not have any lines of dialogue because everyone’s SS is different. It kinda breaks the immersion if Sole says something that your Sole wouldn’t say. So that’s why Sole is, well, silent. Just leave their responses to your imagination! Also, I’m sorry this doesn’t really touch upon the “famous” part of your request, but I figured they’d all kind of sound the same as that prima ballerina React I did a while back, so I just did it more as a “Sole is very, very talented” kinda reaction. Hope that’s okay! Please enjoy!😄

FO4 Companions React: Sole Being a Famous Irish Folk Violinist

Sole and their companion were on their way to Salem when they stumbled upon an old music shop. Inside the store, the pair found a collection of perfectly preserved instruments. Upon looking through cases and displays, Sole found a violin— one that was identical to the one they used to perform Irish folk music in the pre-war days. They picked up the instrument and began to play familiar melodies

Deacon: Deacon was completely enthralled by the beautiful performance by his partner. When Sole has finished their song, Deacon enthusiastically clapped and cheered. “WOOHOO!” Deacon shouted, “ENCORE! ENCORE! Play I’ve Been Working on the Railroad next!”

Hancock: Hancock swayed to Sole’s music. When they had finished, he nodded in approval. “Excellent performance. Job well done. And without chems either? Damn, you got some real talent, [brother/sister]. You should be proud.” Hancock picked up an electric guitar. “My turn. You just sit back and enjoy the ride.” The ghoul proceeded to perform one of his favorite pre-war classics: Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix. Sole watched him in awe as he perfected every riff. When he had finished his performance, Hancock took a bow. “I’d like to thank the ungodly amount of mentats that contributed to mastering this song—the only song I can play on any instrument.”

Nick: Nick smiled as Sole performed Irish folk tunes on the violin. When they had finished, he clapped. “That was an extraordinary performance. You’re quite the virtuoso, my friend.” The detective sat down on a piano bench and cracked his mechanical knuckles. “You know The Entertainer by Joplin? I know how to play it on the piano if you wanted to perform it together.”

Curie: Curie hummed along to Sole’s melody, immersed in the music. When Sole finished, Curie wiped away a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. “Magnificent. That was absolutely remarkable, [Madam/Monsieur]. It has brought tears to my eyes.” Curie blushed, “If it’s not too much, could you possibly play another melody? Possibly...La Java Bleue by Fréhel? That is my absolute favorite!”

Ada: Ada stood in place and listened to Sole’s performance. When Sole had finished, she finally spoke. “That was stunning, [sir/ma’am]. It’s incredible how nimble you are with that instrument. Me...I could only dream of being that dexterous.” She paused for a moment. “I wish I could compose a melody for you...oh! I can play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in Morse Code if you would like to hear that.”

Strong: Strong listened to Sole’s song all the way through. “Human...how you play tiny instrument? Strong want to try.” Strong picked up the violin and drew the bow across the strings. It made a horrendous screech that forced Sole to cover their ears. Strong was not amused. “STUPID INSTRUMENT! Why not work for Strong?” Strong crushed the violin in his hands and carelessly dropped the wooden fragments on the ground. “Bah! Useless junk anyway.”

Codsworth: Codsworth listened to every note of Sole’s performance with a strong longing for the past. When Sole finished, Codsworth signed. “Oh, [sir/mum]. I missed this. It was wonderful to have the opportunity to listen to your music again.” The two were silent for a few moments before Codsworth broke the silence, “Please, would you mind just playing one more tune?”

Danse: Danse, genuinely impressed by his partner’s talent, listened attentively to their performance. He then fished through the instrument box and pulled out a harmonica. He began to play harmoniously with Sole. When the two finished their song, Danse smiled. “Cutler and I would play that song among several others when business was slow at our junk stand in Rivet City,” the Paladin explained, “He played the accordion and I played the harmonica. We were decent enough. People gave us tips. We constantly joked about starting up a street band with other drifters, but nothing came of that. And we never spoke of t again once we joined the Brotherhood.” He put the instrument back in the box. “But I digress; that was an outstanding performance, soldier. You never cease to amaze me.”

Piper: Piper closed her eyes and fully immersed herself in Sole’s beautiful music. When Sole finished the melody, Piper approached them. “Blue...that was incredible. Honestly, I think that was the best violin performance I’ve ever heard!” She shook her head and laughed. “Hey, you should play that song for the upper-stand snobs. You’d absolutely blow their minds. I swear you’d make Ann Codman’s head explode if you proved to her that the working class have talent, too.”

X6-88: X6 absorbed every note of Sole’s Irish folk melodies and subtly tapped his fingers to the beat. When Sole had finished, he spoke. “That was excellent, [sir/ma’am]. I do not frequently listen to music— save for a few classical songs— but that was a truly riveting performance. Well done.”

Longfellow: Longfellow smiled widely as he listened to his partner performed. He picked up a nearby fiddle and played notes that complimented his partner’s perfectly. After their performance, Longfellow clapped. “Bravo!,” Longfellow praised, “I may not know how to play Irish folk songs on the fiddle, but I can teach you some sea shanties.”

MacCready: MacCready smirked and listened to his partner masterfully recreate traditional Irish folk music. When Sole has finished, MacCready grinned. “That was awesome! I never pictured you as the musical type.”MacCready approached an electric guitar that was on display and through the strap over his shoulder. “Now the real question is...can you play rock and roll?” MacCready aggressively strummed the strings of the guitar, creating sharp, piercing beats that caused both himself and Sole to cringe. He quickly stopped and sheepishly scratched his head “...because I clearly can’t.”

Preston: Preston stared in awe as his partner skillfully handled the violin. He clapped once Sole had finished playing. “General, that was incredible. I never would’ve guessed you were a master of the violin.” He complimented. He thought for a moment, and then eagerly turned to his partner. “Any chance you know how to play the pre-war National anthem? I’d love to hear it.”

Gage: Gage was taken aback by Sole’s sheer talent. “Boss. That was...good. And I ain’t messin with ya either. It was damn good.” He studied the violin. “And I ain’t usually a fan of these fancy-folk instruments. I’m more of a trashcan lid and harmonica kinda guy.”

Cait: Cait’s eyes lit up when she heard the all-too-familiar tunes of her homeland. When Sole finished, she beamed. “Hey, ye ain’t half bad! In fact, ye ain’t bad. Yer amazin! You’ve got some Irish in ye?” Sole answered and Cait smiled. “Well you’d probably be surprised to know that I know how to dance to these songs. When I was a girl, I taught myself how to dance in my spare time. Kept me from thinking of me parents.” She looked down and frowned. “But as much as I loved it, it was a risk. They’d beat me if they saw me practicin. So eventually I just stopped tryin.” She looked at her companion earnestly, “But I like to think I still have that spirit in me. The way I dodged punches in the Combat Zone, it reminded me of my dancin. I think I’d like to give it a try again if you don’t mind.” Sole agreed and started playing another tune. Cait aptly began to step to the music; her feet tapping to the beats synchronously. For the first time in a long time, Cait looked radiant and truly happy. When the song concluded, Cait took a playful bow. She then turned to her partner, eyes wide with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, [name]. That truly meant a lot to me.”

[logansmoore-blog]

PENN BADGLEY // have you seen LOGAN S. MOORE around town? We’re trying to make sure they’re still in town, especially with everything that’s been happening lately. HE is a 33 year old CIS MAN currently residing in Perfection Valley, but they’re originally from LAS VEGAS. they are best known for being the OLDER KIDS TEACHER, and i hear they’re pretty PATIENT/UNDERSTANDING yet also DISLOYAL at times; i hope they continue to survive. 

tw: cheating

MEET LOGAN.

► GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Logan S(ean). Moore

NICKNAME(S): N/A

AGE: Thirty-three

GENDER: Cis Man

PRONOUNS: He/Him

OCCUPATION: Older kids teacher (middle & high schoolers)

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

LANGUAGES: English, Spanish

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Penn Badgley (Mr. Fake Name)

HEIGHT: 5′9″

BUILD: Lean 

DOMINANT HAND: Right

HAIR COLOR: Brown

EYE COLOR: Brown

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: n/a

► BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Las Vegas, Nevada

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Perfection Valley, Nevada

PARENTS: Sean Moore & Susan Karen Moore

SIBLINGS: Cole Moore (older brother)

PETS: None

► ABOUT

Born and raised in the City of Sin, Logan grew up in a white collar family where he hadn’t wanted for nothing.

Education was his passion. It wasn’t just one specific subject that drew his attention, no, Logan loved multiple subjects all at once. Each year he would find another subject that drew him in. Not that there’s anything particularly interesting about the subject itself that drew him in but the manner in which the teacher can control the students’ interests through teaching and he enjoyed that power after realizing teachers were the magicians of the real world. The right one could completely bewitch you and have you believing in what was taught; the wrong one could sour the subject completely.

So he pursued it. Went to UNLV (University of Nevada in Las Vegas) and double majored in Secondary Education seeking out both BS and BA because he wished to know both the “art” and “science” of teaching (and is that asshole), to properly bewitch his students as his teachers had when he’d grown up.

Not long after graduation, he’d jumped into a teacher preparation program to be qualified to teach in Nevada as soon as humanly possible. While still in the middle of the program, he’d replied to a hiring ad about a Secondary Education Teacher in Perfection Valley. They’d invited him down for a weekend and a chat and agreed he’d be hired upon completion (and passing) of his program - which he did with flying colors. 

It wasn’t too long after that Perfection Valley became home. He was doing something he greatly enjoyed in a town that could really, truly use a teacher that enjoyed it and gave learning life. 

Originally residing in the Desert Inn, Logan now resides in a modern trailer purchased by his parents (retirees who were formerly an investment banker & lawyer) and older brother (a corporate lawyer) as a graduation/congratulatory gift on a plot of land just barely on the outskirts of town he’d bought with some of his savings. He’s extremely grateful no sharknados have blown it to bits yet.

tw for cheating. It wasn’t too long after all of the above that he’d come to meet the mother of his triplets, Brenda ( @brendasangulalik ). The situation with Brenda is rocky at best no thanks to his unfaithful, cheating, horny womanizing ways yet he’d do anything for their children. Things were, at some point, good for them. But the years building up to her pregnancy and shortly after the birth of their babies, the stress of the town’s ridiculous, and rather unsafe, weather - among other things - lead him to seek out stress relief in the form of a lay. Well, Brenda eventually split up and they both now have joint custody of the three angels.

More to come!

► THINGS DONE:

broken a bone | gotten stitches | had a near-death experience | invented something | been hungover | kissed someone | slow danced | been in a long-term relationship | had sex | had sex and regretted it | had a one-night stand | had a threesome | experimented with their sexuality | had a kid | gotten married | self-harmed | been in a play | received an inheritance | been in a ship wreck | lost a loved one | been dumped | dumped someone | smoked | gotten high | been slipped something in their food/drink | won a contest | won an election | joined a sports team | gone skydiving | gone hunting | been in a band | had a job | been fired | been in a wedding party | owned a pet | seen a ghost | skipped class/work | learned an instrument | gotten a noticeable scar | sued someone | been robbed | been mugged | been kidnapped | been sexually assaulted | been brainwashed/hypnotized | gone more than one day without eating | had a recurring nightmare | been bullied | bullied someone | seen someone die | attempted suicide | been tied/chained up | shot someone | stabbed someone | saved someone’s life | cheated on someone | been cheated on | been betrayed | been in a fight | been arrested | been to a funeral | had surgery | broken someone’s trust | gotten a tattoo | used a fake name | been tortured | been abused | been blackmailed | had an attempt on their life | gotten away with a crime | gone on a road trip | been in love

► HABITS:

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind (someone else’s) ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

► KNOWS HOW TO:

bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | pilot | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | draw | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | wrap a gift | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

MEET THE MUN. 

hey there, i’m kit. (almost) 31. est. any pronouns.

activity won’t be easy as i’m trying to get over this depression slump rn and force myself to play but i swear, i’m interested and have been beyond excited to join syfy for a long ass time.

i’ve got two super sweet kids that i’ll eventually share pics of ig because i always end up doing so even when i say i won’t be.

playing canons/skeletons have always been easier for me than playing my own ocs so thx natalie for so much of a guideline on what kind of person logan should be.

[ashleyquintana-blog1]

hey! i’m sayer and i’m super excited to start writing with all of you. i’ve been watching b-movies with my family since i was a kid so this is pretty cool for me. anyway, this is my disaster son ashley! king of running toward the monster and not knowing how to drive a car!

► GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: ashley quintana

NICKNAME(S): ash

AGE: twenty-seven

GENDER: cis male 

PRONOUNS: he/him

OCCUPATION: journalist/bartender

SEXUALITY: bisexual

LANGUAGES: english, spanish

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: diego boneta

HEIGHT: 5′9″

DOMINANT HAND: left

HAIR COLOR: brown

EYE COLOR: brown

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: n/a

► BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: perfection valley, nevada

CURRENT RESIDENCE: perfection valley, nevada

PARENTS: michael and elisa quintana

SIBLINGS: _____ quintana (younger sister)

PETS: robocop, a scraggly three legged dog he adopted

► ABOUT

born in perfection valley and hasn’t left since he was a kid

his father was stabbed in las vegas when ash was about eleven and five years later his mother went out of town for a wedding and died in a car accident

ashley and his younger sister were taken in by another resident (huge mega wc!! hmu) until ash became his sister’s primary guardian when he was twenty one

up until this point, ashley had always been mr town spirit but now it changed into paranoia. when asked why he never leaves town he just laughs and asks “why would i ever leave?” but he’s secretly convinced that if he or his sister leaves something terrible will happen to them

he had always wanted to be an author, but that wasn’t lucrative enough to support two people with no savings. the job market in perfection isn’t exactly booming, and he managed to get a job with the newspaper despite his lack of experience or degree. he also works at the olde saloon to make ends meet, which doesn’t leave much time for his novel

when weird things started happening he immediately began to look into it. it’s been the main focus of his articles for the past month and he even started a blog to try and chronicle the weird happenings in perfection valley. 

this fascination has led to some reckless behavior including seeking out the source of the danger instead of seeking shelter in the event of an emergency. think first character to die in a horror movie but somehow he’s still going strong.

he’s always been a very extroverted person and does his best to welcome new residents into town. tends to sleep around so like. hmu. ► THINGS DONE:

Broken a bone | Gotten stitches | Had a near-death experience | Invented something | Been hungover | Kissed someone | Slow danced | Been in a long-term relationship | Had sex | Had sex and regretted it | Had a one-night stand | Had a threesome | Experimented with their sexuality | Had a kid | Gotten married | Self-harmed | Been in a play | Received an inheritance | Been in a ship wreck | Lost a loved one | Been dumped | Dumped someone | Smoked | Gotten high | Been slipped something in their food/drink | Won a contest | Won an election | Joined a sports team | Gone skydiving | Gone hunting | Been in a band | Had a job | Been fired | Been in a wedding party | Owned a pet | Seen a ghost | Skipped class/work | Learned an instrument | Gotten a noticeable scar | Sued someone | Been robbed | Been mugged | Been kidnapped | Been sexually assaulted | Been brainwashed/hypnotized | Gone more than one day without eating | Had a recurring nightmare | Been bullied | Bullied someone | Seen someone die | Attempted suicide | Been tied/chained up | Shot someone | Stabbed someone | Saved someone’s life | Cheated on someone | Been cheated on | Been betrayed | Been in a fight | Been arrested | Been to a funeral | Had surgery | Broken someone’s trust | Gotten a tattoo | Used a fake name | Been tortured | Been abused | Been blackmailed | Had an attempt on their life | Gotten away with a crime | Gone on a road trip | Been in love

► HABITS:

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking|swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

► KNOWS HOW TO:

bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | pilot | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | draw | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | wrap a gift | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

[isaxahprescott]

Isaiah Park (Sinclair) | #312hqtasksfive - A Development Task

what was your character like when they first joined? what were their traits, hobbies, habbits, lifestyle, etc? 

         Frick, my poor boy was so heckin’ lost when he first came to Chicago. Everything that had went down that caused his decision to leave NYC was still so fresh on the brain and he hated himself so darn much. He was so much more reserved and had no desire in getting to know anyone, terrified that if they got too close, they would find him out and hate him just as much as he hated himself for being a part of the reason that his best friend died. He didn’t freakin’ know how to do the laundry or anything mundane bc it was all done for him growing up. He didn’t know what he was going to do next, he just knew that he wasn’t going back home any time soon.

how has your character changed / developed since working at malnati’s? have their traits, hobbies, habbits, or lifestyle changed?

           Zaya’s still a bit awkward around other’s but now he’s trying really hard to make friends and he smiles so much more now and doesn’t stutter as much???? Meeting all these incredible people like Freddi who have helped him get out of his shell or Chardon, who’s had no problem in teaching him how to do things like cleaning or ironing?? Like, he’s in a whole lot better place now and can be a lil shiz when comfortable enough around you. There’s a lot of sarcasm and self deprecating jokes bc there’s still a lot of progress to be made in the self love department but gosh darn it, he’s stopped smoking bc he’s started channeling his nerves into something more positive like playing his uke Sophie or watching space documentaries with Jules. He now sort of sees boxing as more of a form of exercise rather than a way to let out all of his pent up feelings. He’s slowly progressed so much and kind of feels like he’s found himself a second home and I’m so so happy about it :’)

how do you think your character might change or evolve moving forward now? do you have any hopes or goals for them?

         He’s still got a long ways to go with accepting that Johnny is now gone and there’s not much else he can really do about it, but now he’s actually been able to share the experience with the people he’s closest to ( ie. Gianna and Freddi) and doesn’t have to bare that burden alone . I’d love to see him be able to go to his grave and kinda give his late best friend the sort of closure that they both need. I want to see him feel more sure of himself and gain his confidence back (not as much to the point that he’s hecka cocky and awful about it like he once was, but a good amount). He’s still trying to figure out what it is that he wants in life and I hope to see him find something that makes him real happy that he doesn’t want to let go of. I really want to see him make more friends and slowly become comfortable enough around them, too. (Especially with Teo, frick, I just need them to make up and become bros again, pls, before I die) I want him to be able to go back to New York and see his family after all this time; to realize that he can stop running from his past now, bc it’s going to be okay. I also want him to meet with a counselor when he’s ready and figure out a way to get help for his anxiety.  Overall, I just want him to find peace and contentment in this new lifestyle that he’s built for himself. 

bold flaws your character has / italicise ones they used to have, or have partially.  ( x )

absent-minded / abusive / addicted / aimless / alcoholic / aloof / anxious / arrogant / audacious / has bad habits / bigmouthed / bigoted / blunt / bold / callous / childish / cruel / cursed / dependent / dishonest / disloyal / disturbed / dubious / egotistical / envious / erratic / fanatical / fickle / fierce / finicky / flirty / gluttonous / gruff / gullible / hedonistic / humourless / hypocritical / idiotic / ignorant / illiterate / immature / impatient / impious / impish / incompetent / indecisive / indifferent / infamous / intolerant / judgemental / lazy / lewd / liar / lustful / masochistic / meddlesome / meek / megalomanic / naïve / nosey / obsessive / oppressive / overambitious / overemotional / overprotective / overzealous / paranoid / peevish / perfectionist / pessimistic / phobic / rebellious / reckless / remorseless / rigorous / sadistic / sarcastic / sceptic / seducer / selfish / self-martyr / self-righteous / senile / shallow / smart ass / solemn / spineless / spiteful / spoiled / squeamish / stubborn / superstitious / tactless / temperamental / theatrical / timid / tongue-tied / unlucky / unpredictable / untrustworthy / vain / weak-willed / withdrawn

bold all that apply. my muse knows how to … ( x )

bake a cake from scratch (partially) | ride a horse | drive stick | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

bold which habits your muse has … ( x )

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking (used to have) | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

[thejcnnings]

Chardon Jennings. Character Development Task. 

What was your character like when they first joined? what were their traits, hobbies, habbits, lifestyle, etc?

chardon was definitely a very full of himself person. although sweet, the blonde was also selfish and arrogant. he knew how to get what he wanted. the boy loved theater and music, and still does. acting is his passion. he was definitely a party person.

how has your character changed / developed since working at malnati’s? have their traits, hobbies, habbits, or lifestyle changed?

hes kinder. everyone has softened him up a little bit and he’s learned to be less selfish and manipulative. coming from a small town, chicago was a culture shock to him. he’s able to speak fragments of different languages. he still loves music and acting and would never give it up. hes still reckless, but substantially less. he realizes that the people around him care and he wants to stick around for them. 

how do you think your character might change or evolve moving forward now? do you have any hopes or goals for them?

he’ll always be a cocky pos, but maybe kinder. i also hope he’s able to do well in his music/theatre career. i think theres still more for him to learn since hes really insensitive to people. theres still a lot he doesn’t know about his friends that he should know. 

bold flaws your character has / italicise ones they used to have, or have partially.  ( x )

absent-minded / abusive / addicted / aimless / alcoholic / aloof / anxious / arrogant / audacious / has bad habits /bigmouthed / bigoted / blunt / bold / callous / childish / cruel / cursed / dependent / dishonest / disloyal / disturbed / dubious / egotistical / envious / erratic / fanatical / fickle /fierce / finicky / flirty / gluttonous / gruff / gullible /hedonistic / humourless / hypocritical / idiotic / ignorant / illiterate / immature / impatient / impious / impish / incompetent / indecisive / indifferent / infamous / intolerant / judgemental / lazy / lewd / liar / lustful / masochistic / meddlesome / meek / megalomanic / naïve / nosey / obsessive / oppressive / overambitious /overemotional / overprotective / overzealous / paranoid / peevish / perfectionist / pessimistic / phobic / rebellious / reckless / remorseless / rigorous / sadistic / sarcastic / skeptic / seducer / selfish / self-martyr / self-righteous / senile / shallow / smart ass / solemn / spineless / spiteful / spoiled / squeamish / stubborn / superstitious / tactless /temperamental / theatrical / timid / tongue-tied / unlucky / unpredictable / untrustworthy / vain / weak-willed / withdrawn

bold all that apply. my muse knows how to … ( x )

bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | drive stick | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

bold which habits your muse has … ( x )

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping |snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling| licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness |running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders