#also im a bit tipsy sooooooooooo

[pussyslaycatboy]

1 2 3 4 5 7 8 10 20 22 23 25 30 36 41 e f and g with august :)

and i love you SOOOOOOOOOOO SO SO SO SO MUCH BABY

HELLO BABE I LOVE YOU!!!!! SO MUCH!!!!!! KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS!!! also you're insane for this im putting this under the cut its so much

he straight up can't, because he needs a constant distraction from his thoughts, otherwise he'll start spiralling. he literally does everything he can not to think, so he can't just sit there. he'll explode.

surprisingly easy, despite being sick in the head he's actually pretty easy-going with most people, and he has a good sense of humor. if he doesn't laugh at a stupid joke then you KNOW something's wrong.

he very rarely goes to bed sober. again, because of the "needs a constant distraction" thing. so more often than not, even if he's sober beforehand, he'll take a few shots to get tipsy before he's comfortable enough to sleep.

it really depends. august has this huge mistrust of authority figures, so he won't trust anyone who's even moderately related to therapy or counseling or teachers or cops or anything. HOWEVER, if he likes someone he's got a bad habit of completely ignoring all their flaws and trusting everything they say (bpd moment), and it'll take almost no time. and he's aware of this flaw, and tries really hard to be mistrusting so he doesn't get hurt again, but. well. it doesn't really work.

again, depends who you are. on the off chance he becomes close with an authority figure, even the slightest fuck-up can cause him to immediately shift back into distrust. however, someone he likes can lie to him over and over, and august will fall back into trusting them if they just apologize and promise they won't do it again. kind of pathetically easy to gaslight his ass.

anything home-y triggers nostalgia for his family--home-cooked food, suburban white family decor, stuff like that. the feeling's kind of bittersweet, because he did have a fairly happy childhood (even including the time he was getting groomed, unfortunately) but it also hurts because he knows he'll never have that again. he also gets nostalgia for church-related stuff like sunday mass, but that's less pleasant because it just makes him think about harper (for not-chad, the priest who groomed him as a teen) and how he was abandoned by him.

august was a pretty normal good kid, but he was. a little bit gay. so he'd get reprimanded for stuff like staring at male models at the mall or doing "girly" stuff and shit like that as a kid (which sucks, because he was never taught to cook or clean because of that). tbh otherwise he was a really good kid--his grades were average, but he made up for it by being really faithful, and he was usually pretty quiet and polite.

when harper left him, august learned really quickly that he could NOT tell therapists and shit that being groomed was the best thing to ever happen to him. because they'd always go "oh my god, that's terrible! i'm so sorry that dirty man did that to you!" but. august was genuinely at his happiest while being groomed (obviously it wasn't healthy, but he was really happy). so he learned really quickly not to talk about it at all, or lie and say that it was soooo awful. it doesn't haunt him per se, but he built a lot of resent towards authority figures for that reason, because nobody would ever listen to him and always tried to make harper out to be a bad guy, which august does not agree with. and it fucking hurts to pretend he doesn't love harper.

he honestly can't really differentiate them. his family loved him, but he always felt like it was conditional, so he'd consider familial love to be fake. and he can't tell the difference between romantic or platonic love--the closest thing he could tell is that romantic love is when you want to fuck a person you love, and platonic is when you don't want to fuck them.

when he's jealous, august becomes EXTREMELY insecure and clingy. he has huge abandonment issues that are already worsened by his bpd, so he'll dig in his heels and do absolutely anything not to be abandoned. which. does include hurting people he loves and acting in a super unhealthy way.

he gets sooo bitchy, or will mope and whine around the person he's envious of until he gets what he wants. like a fucking 8 year old.

he wants to get married one day, but has trouble imagining someone sticking with him long enough to get to that point. as a kid, he really really wanted to marry harper, and a part of him still hopes he can. he's kind of bitter on the subject of marriage because it's basically inaccessible to him.

probably anim, because it's their fault that he learned all these terrible things about harper. he would have been more than happy to live completely ignorant forever, but now he can't do that.

he seeks out romance constantly, because he's unable to not be in a relationship. he needs to feel wanted and useful, and if that means he needs to pursue people who treat him terribly, he will. it's not really "romance" in a healthy sense, it's more like looking for attention and sex and affection under the guise of a romanic relationship.

he's neutral on them. he doesn't want them himself, and thinks they're kind of annoying, but they also make him nostalgic for his own childhood. because he wishes he was a kid again so bad, because he was so much happier.

e. i think i'd like sharing hot gossip with august but i could NOT be close with him. way too much drama involved, and he's basically just a more intense version of my mental illness so i think it would suck. plus i think he'd find me boring.

f. he makes me so fucking sad. because i think he's so tragic but also he's kind of the oc that's closest to me in terms of. many things. so his shit hits a little close to home. i love him.

g. he refuses to fucking get therapy. get normal loser boy.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 50- To the East

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A dragon spirit, guardians and attendants to the gods, is in peril. When a few hermits and the wanderers go to face the trouble, they’re not the only ones fighting against dark magic.

_______________________________________________

Not all of the hermits could afford to leave Doc behind, nor could they all make the trip in time. Avon’s insistent they leave now. She was about ready to transform into her dragon form and carry the wanderers to the eastern fjords. It was Ren that was able to calm her down just enough to think. In the end, they decided less is more. Avon doesn’t know what has her on edge, but she knows it’s not good. 

“My mentor, Flaryn, I… I have a really bad feeling.” Avon paces the floor. 

“Your mentor, like the dragon?” Mumbo squeaks, already feeling faint as he remembers facing Avon in the duel. What could possibly be causing a massive dragon trouble? 

As soon as Cub opens a portal, the wanderers are the first through. Following them is Iskall, already brandishing a spear of iskallium. Ren volunteers as well, offering up his dynamic, versatile magic. Three hermits, plus the three wanderers, set off through the portal, from the dark wooden bookstore to the verdant evergreen forests around the eastern fjords. Arriving beneath the pine canopy, someone was already waiting for them. 

“I got your message,” The long, ebony black haired sorceress reaches out, taking hold of Red’s hands and holding him close. Prolonged, pointy ears rise from the black curls like rocks from the sea, and deep purple eyes gaze upon the small group. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know, Selene.” Avon growls, brushing past everyone present. Her eyes wander across the tall mountains, covered in snow as they slope to the waters below. “Things just feel...disturbed. Out of balance, like a rockfall about to collapse.” 

“You called your master Flaryn, correct?” Cub questions, boots crunching heavy in the snow. Ren realizes he’s wearing sandals, and uses his imagination magic to conjure up a pair of boots. “You don’t mean to tell us that the dragon you learned your magic from is a dragon spirit? Flaryn, dragon of the east, guardian of balance, master of flame?” 

“Why does a dragon need that many surnames?” Iskall huffs. Cub’s eyes only widen when Avon gives a curt nod. Cub has gotten used to his fellow hermits being from incredible or strange backgrounds, but to master a magic from the very spirits that aid the gods? 

“Well, go big or go home, I guess.” Cub chuckles. “So...if something really is wrong, why don’t we go to Flaryn’s roost and check for ourselves?” 

“Because Flaryn lives at the top of that mountain,” Selene, now carrying Red through the snow as tall as the kipling, interjects. “And that isn’t just a mountain. That’s a fucking active volcano.” 

As if to prove her point, a low growl escapes the peak of the mountain, and smoke roils free like the maws of a dragon. And within the smoke, a massive shadow, wings outstretched, appears. Bigger than Avon’s dragon form, so big that even this far away the hermits can tell it’s great size. This was a dragon above dragons, a beast that could bend nature to it’s whim. 

And it was under attack. The dragon banks hard within the smoke, dancing with embers and tendrils of flames as lava erupts from the mountain peak. From the bottom of the mountain, the hermits can’t tell who is attacking, though they can make an educated guess on who would possibly have that much hubris to take on a messenger of the gods. 

If it wasn’t Dolios, then surely it was one of his council members. A roar shakes the ground at their feet, sending snow tumbling from trees. Selene uses her magic to create a shield, brushing aside the snow like it was little more than a gnat. Shield magic must be her power. Avon takes point, guiding the team up the mountain to the peak. Where she learned to control her magic.  A battle continues at the caldera, fire blazing from the mouth of Flaryn and strikes of magic shooting from the ground. 

A wayward breath of fire misses the combatant, orange flame burning down the mountain. Barreling for the team. Avon opens her wings to block the flame, but is little more than raising a hand to stop an avalanche. Iskall squeezes his eyes closed and waits to be burnt to a crisp by the superhot flame. 

It never comes. He waits a second longer, still braced and prepared for death. Still nothing. Iskall dares to open his eye, about to ask where his untimely death has gone. He finds it, instead, under the control of Selene. She’s ensnared the fire, dancing with the stream like it was little more than a ribbon of silk. When she’s gained full control of the flame, she turns it back up the mountain, aimed directly at the distance figure they’re approaching. 

Iskall blinks, stunned and confused. “I thought you were a shield wizard. Are you a multi-mage as well?” 

Avon doesn’t stop, leaving the others to follow. “I’m not a multi-mage, but I can do multiple forms of magic.” 

“How so?” That’s impossible. Most wizards only have one form of magic, as unique as their personalities. Multi-mages were an exception, as if the gods themselves couldn’t decide what magic the wizard would excel with. 

“Ever heard of a learned mage?” Red questions, falling into the snow and clambering through. It’s as high as his chest. When all three hermits shake their heads, he continues. “Learned wizards are born without magic, but with enough time and dedicated study are able to gain the understanding of powers and use it themselves.” 

“I had no innate magic. But I didn’t let that stop me. I’ve since learned more than twenty varieties of magic, and can perform them as well as wizards born with it.” Selene looks over her shoulder, a coy grin appearing on her face when she sees the stunned expression on the hermits’.  

Ren opens his mouth to ask a question, but the words that rise from his throat are lost to the wind, the thunder of the dragon above. It wasn’t an angered roar, not like those before, when Flaryn fought the intruder. Rather, it was more of a cry, higher pitched, sharper. Grating against their ears. Alarmed, Avon takes off, leaving the rest behind to join her mentor in the sky. Her trident is already in hand, flame erupting in a blossom of purple.

The distant figure turns, curly brown hair falling across his blue capelet, a scowl creasing the charismatic expression. “And i thought you’d be too busy handling your criminal friend to get in my way.” Dolios sneers. He attempts to blast Avon out of the sky, but the draconic mage dodges in the nick of time. “You flying lizards have always been such a pain, but imagine the honor of being the person to slay a dragon spirit.” 

“You’ll have to go through us first.” Avon hisses, then attacks. Dolios casts his wisping magic circle, corrupted by his dark magic. Just as unstable as the man that controls it. A heavy wind picks up, snapping the tops off trees and tossing Avon aside like she was little more than a leaf. With her out of the way, Dolios turns back to Flaryn. Another circle, this time summoning a swarm of wasps. The mottled monstrosities swarm the dragon, stinging and paralyzing the spirit. Forcing Flayrn to land as wings become overwhelmingly heavy. 

Iskall lets out a war cry, and plows through the deep snow, to the peak of the mountain. He shoves his shoulder, all his weight into Dolios. The two both go sprawling against the ground. Iskall can feel the heat of the erupting volcano, burning at his cheeks in waves of intense heat. 

“I think it’s time for you to meet your doom, you mega bastard.” Iskall growls, wrestling the magistrate. Dolios isn’t very strong, it turns out, all his attention focused on keeping Iskall from throwing him into the lake of lava. 

“Do you know any other adjectives except ‘mega’ and ‘doom’, or are you just too dense to learn a thesaurus?” Dolios hums. His words spark an angry fire in Iskall, frenzying him. 

Exactly how Dolios wanted it. With a swift repertoire of hand movements, Dolios casts his dark magic, and grabs hold of Iskall’s arm. Fingernails puncture under Iskall’s pale, exposed skin. Like venom from a wyrmbite, poison seeps under his skin, sending Iskall writhing backwards in pain. 

Red catches Iskall before he falls all the way down the volcano, while Selene casts not one, or two, but three different spells at once. Despite the uncertain predicament Dolios finds himself in, he’s more interested in the magic that’s trapped him rather than the fight. Through all of this, his nonchalant, charismatic smile never leaves, and never fails to infuriate the hermits. “It seems we have something in common here. Though one of us definitely chose the harder route.” 

“We are nothing alike, you asshole.” Selene hisses, reeling back and casting her magic. In the split second between the spell being summoned and taking effect, Dolios uses his own spell.. A concussive blast, just like he used in the chess match so long ago, sending the hermits and wanderers tumbling down through the snow. The mountain rumbles, snow shifting and threatening to collapse into an avalanche. To sweet away the rescue team.

“Well, at least now I have an audience to witness the beginning of a new sport.” Dolios rights himself, brushing the snow from his robes and turning back to the wasp covered, incapacitated dragon. “Dragons are so dangerous, only the strongest, bravest mages would dare slay a dragon. Think of the honor to be in such an exclusive group.” 

“Fucker!” Avon shouts, launching herself free from the snow, unleashing every once of her magic, as well as her trident, against Dolios. But he bats it away, and grabs the draconic mage from midair, hands wrapped around a wing and tipping her towards the explosive volcano below. 

“Well, if none of you are going to be a gracious audience, why not become willing participants as well? I may not have gotten the joy of seeing that criminal burn before my eyes. But I will relish in wiping you all from existence, right alongside this monster.” Dolios’s gaze turns wild, frenzied as he raises an arm. The sleeve of his robes falls back, wine red fabric and trimmed gold seams fleeing from the swirling black mist. The power of his dark magic grows stronger, more violent. Even from this far away, the hermits can feel the deadly, life draining energy that he harnesses. 

Dolios lines up the shot, so that every last hermit, every single wanderer, and eastern fire dragon is in the line of fire. A maniacal smile grows on his face, thirst for death and the feeling of pure control and power overwhelming him. The angled fingers turn, ready to snap together and release enough dark magic to destroy every living being in the line of fire. His thumb rests on his middle finger, pressing down. 

Then his eyes roll backwards, hand and body falling limp into the melting snow. None of the hermits, the wanderers, even Flaryn breathe for a second, realizing that Dolios is passed out. Not dead, unfortunately. But how? Did he overexert his dark magic? 

Another person is on the crest of the volcano. Long blue hair, straight and flat as if it had been slept on. Mostly because it was. Tired, bored eyes sparked with a hint of determination, and finned ears flick aside the pyroclastic ash from the eruption. His chest rises and falls, body exhausted from overusing his magic. 

“You don’t have much time.” Apatia breathes, body slumped. About to pass out as well. “I did as much as I could to keep him knocked out as long as possible, but his mgic took the brunt of my own. You leave, I’ll make sure the dragon spirit is okay.” 

The councilmember steps forward, offering a hand to the hermits. Ecto recoils, preferring to sink deeper into the snow she hates than be anywhere near Apatia. “Why should we trust you? You’re a part of his crony gang. You’ve been letting him, helping him do horrible things!” 

Apatia’s shoulders slump, and he looks as exhausted mentally as he is physically. “I don’t have time to explain everything. He’s going to wake up soon, and he won't fall for that trick again. Let’s just say I… I’m tired of just letting bad things happen to good people.” 

Red’s the first up, the two kiplings looking at one another. Apatia offers a soft nod, some unspoken conversation between the two. Avon does her best to ease the pain and help her mentor from the wasp attack, while Cub opens a portal. 

“Can’t we just drop him into the volcano?” Ren questions. “This could finally all be over.” 

“It won’t stop his work, not with Eurynomos in the forest. Waiting.” The hermits glance at one another. Eurynomos. Is that the name of the beast they found? “Just...send him back to Milliara. We can’t have people wondering what’s happened to their beloved magistrate as well.”

“Just one stab?” Avon questions, still furious he called her a monster. “He deserves more than what we’re letting him off with.”

To Cub’s chagrin, he knows that Apatia is right. As much as he’d love to finish Dolios off now, to get this over with, nothing is ever that easy. Once Dolios is gone, there team of rescuers step through their own portal. The wanderers first, and the hermits following after. 

Iskall steps through last, but turns while he’s in between places. Looking at the councilmember. Apatia looks back, exhausted. “Know that you hermits aren’t alone. This is your fight, but you have others on your side now too.”