#astrifer tag

[goodnightwindy]

i love projecting every single trait i have onto my ocs negative or positive or neutral idc astrifer is really fucking passionate about records now because if i ever see someone playing a shellac record with a vinyl needle ill go on a massacre

[sullustangin]

15 Questions for 15(ish) friends

(Definitely can't tag 15 because it seems tumblr doesn't let you tag more than a few people in a post these days, so heavy emphasis on the ish)

Tagged by @vexa-legacy (the turnaround for these things is less than a month now! I'm getting better!)

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE: Yes, my dad's caretaker when he was child with 2 working parents (day shift/night shift, so there was an in-between)

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED: Probably something related to my spawn rejecting me (I'm the working parent, yet mama. She doesn't like it when I go to work, gets mad, and takes it out on me by pushing me away while wanting me home and to be in my lap all the time at the same time. Toddlers are not geniuses.).

DO YOU HAVE KIDS: Indeed!

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED: I played softball in high school -- not well. Very Charlie Brown in that department.

DO YOU USE SARCASM: Sometimes. I teach, and I've noticed that students are less able to detect sarcasm, hyperbole, and even jokes. My job relies on clarity, so I'm very Spock with them -- the clever ones notice the snark, though.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE: Whether they make and maintain eye contact.

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR? Brown with heterochromatic yellow rings.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings!

ANY TALENTS: I cook and bake well. It may not be the prettiest thing, but it's the tastiest thing. I also knit.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN: Eastern seaboard, USA

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES: sewing, knitting, baking, fan fic writing, reading academic stuff

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: 2 cats; one half-Siamese smoke black cat who thinks she's people and would fistfight God; and one technicolor calitabby who has one eye and is afraid of pistachios

HOW TALL ARE YOU: 5'4" -- my fan fic OC Eva is about the same height, but she compensates with lifts.

FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL: It used to be math up until junior year of high school. Then I latched onto the Middle Ages (whose denizens did hold math in high regard -- astronomy, geometry, arithmetic, and music get you closer to God)

DREAM JOB: It used to be a professor at a 4-year university with a nice research stipend, but higher ed has a reckoning about to hit over the next five years .... A job that would let me write and publish my academic book.

~~

tagging: @astrifer-bound ; @villainship ; @stars-ephemeral ; @wampawave ; @rustic-space-fiddle ; @queen-scribbles @shabre-legacy

[a-master-procrastinator]

OC Tag Game

Tagged by @raven-of-domain-kwaad, thank you! I'll be keeping it within SWTOR characters since I just focus on them here.

No pressure tag (if you feel like it): @vespertine-legacy, @astrifer-bound, @mmigrainee, @chaoticspacefam, @spitzobsessed

Favorite OC - Jett

Not surprising. As much as I love my other characters (Auletta don't kill me), Jett just gotta be my favorite. Bounty hunter storyline being one of my favorites definitely affects this, but there is much more to this. She is this 'tough on the outside, softie on the inside' type of character that I just adore, I love her personal arcs about trauma, meaningful connections and leadership. And of course strong badass Mando women are just cool and get an instant liking from me :) I can go on for hours on this, but let's move on.

More under the cut.

Newest OC - Beirya and Zin

I had more ideas for new characters after I made Rya and Zin, but they are not yet actual characters that I plan to develop. So these two are my newest at the moment.

Oldest OC - Auletta

Technically, the first character I ever rolled in SWTOR was smuggler, but I didn't keep her in any way, so it's Auletta. Although she looked slightly different and was assassin instead of sorcerer in the game (which doesn't fit her background), the core of her character remained the same.

Meanest OC - Jaria

It's a tough spot between some of my characters, but when others can be polite or maybe it's not their nature to be rude (they just do it for others reasons), Jaria is unapologetically mean to people almost all the time (only shutting up if it saves her skin or gives an advantage).

Softest OC - Shailla and Lorri

(there are actually two more but I wanted to keep it short)

They are just so kind and gentle, striving to do more good in this imperfect galaxy. I mean, there is a reason why Lorri is often considered the heart of her little found family.

Most aloof/standoffish OC - Xaele and Jaria

Xaele in general is pretty distant from the world and even her own actions, which fit well for agent's life. And Jaria is, honestly, pretty mistrusting, and after being separated from her sister, probably the only person she gave a Hutt about, Jaria couldn't form meaningful connections with other people, so she's a loner. Plus she's mostly interested in self-gain and money, and she doesn't care how she gets it.

Dumbest (affectionate) OC - Vintu

Well, there may be others, but no one radiates chaotic dumbass energy like Vintu (yeah, not even smugglers, though they are close). Just look at his dumb face.

Smartest OC - Auletta and Elixess

I would betray Auletta by not including her here. She is a quick learner, a schemer, always hungry for knowledge and information. She's very good at using all available knowledge and information to get the best out of her situation, whatever it might be (back in slavery, in Sith Academy, Dark Council, you name it). The only period when Auletta made kinda dumb decisions was around chapters 1 and 2 of Inquisitor storyline, mostly bc she was drunk on power and freedom, testing how far she can go. But when she failed to kill Thanaton for the second time, Auletta adapted and got the best out of it.

Elixess is similar in many ways, except she doesn't have the same malicious intent as Auletta and maybe not as nerdy. She is a quick thinker, which helps her talk her way out of most trouble and see possibilities for profit. Also, I just thought having a smuggler as one of the smartest characters is funny.

(actually, there are more characters who are on the same level, but I wanted to mention these two)

Horniest OC - Vintu and Jaria

Jaria just likes to flirt around and have one-night stands almost every time she visits a new place (Mako got tired of it real quick). Shame that bounty hunters don't have a lot of flirt options with NPCs other than companions. And Vintu... well, for my own sanity we have an agreement - he doesn't tell much about his private life, and I don't get to know much about it. Let's just say that when he's with Jaesa they are very active, and even after he's done with her, Vintu still hits on a lot of people.

OC you'd bang - none

I'm way too asexual for that.

OC you'd be best friends with - Raen and Alaine

Both of them are great friend material. Raen shares some of my interests (that weren't a bit of self-insert to begin with, no no), so she can tolerate a bit of infodumping about special interests from me. She's generally fun to be around, except for maybe when she's being chased by law enforcement or when she's sleeping. Plus we might have 'introvert adopted by an extrovert' dynamiс in a good way.

Alaine is someone I could trust to discuss a lot of complicated topics without being judged harshly. And she's a good person and a reliable friend in general, so great to have her as a friend. Alaine is more of "calls me out on my shit" friend, and Raen is more of "tags along with my shit" friend, and I definitely need both these types of friends.

[zo0pl0op]

i drew the boy :)

the boy but close up

[novae-viking]

actress Otip Enureet playing the role of the peacock in a play performed in front of the royal court, the play being a retelling of the classic chilrdens story "The peacock and the raven."

[its-called-fashion-sithy]

Important OC Ask : What does your OC smell like?

Thank you @swtorpadawan for tagging me! Sorry that it took me so long to complete 😩

San (Jedi Knight):

Uses her free time to meditate. She finds that incense helps get her into the proper headspace for it, and now all her clothes permanently smell like it no matter how much she might wash them.

Even though she has few wordly possessions due to her Jedi status, she likes to collect different scents from the different planets she visits.

Myora (Sith Warrior):

She is compulsive when it comes to personal hygiene and hates being dirty or sweaty. As a result she bathes at least once a day and always smells very clean. While visiting planets like Quesh and Tatooine that had less than pleasant environments, she increased the amount of showers to twice per day.

Sathya (Sith Inquisitor):

She discovered the joys of Caf while at the academy, and learned how to roast her own Caf Beans from a Sith Text she found in a tomb on Korriban. Now it’s all she drinks.

Tieriya (Imperial Agent):

She has no smell. Like, none at all. Kaliyo was rightfully freaked out when she discovered this. The other crew members all have their own idea as to why this is, with Lokin’s theory of an Imperial Intelligence experiment in the lead.

Kyna (Bounty Hunter):

After winning the Great Hunt and joining the Mandos, she used her winnings to invest in some quality armor. She spends a good portion of her day polishing her armor to keep it in good condition. Because of this, her hands always smell like armor polish even from a distance.

Kanna (smuggler):

It’s not uncommon to catch a faint aroma of alcohol and sweat on her after finishing up business in a seedy cantina. It’s the kind of place where she always felt most at home while surrounded by the galaxy’s most colorful inhabitants.

EDIT: It occured to me that I didn’t actually tag anyone in this, so let me fix that. I’m tagging @astrifer-bound @actualanxiousswampwitch @empireswraths @shabre-legacy and anyone who wants to do this or anyone I may have forgotten

[unbreakable-oaths]

Share 🌟👼🏽 last song, last picture in camera roll, lock screen 👼🏽🌟

Guess who went “Oh, this looks like fun!” and proceeded to forget to do it? ‘Twas me friends. >_<

Thank you @cinlat for the tag! No pressure tags to @astrifer-bound @verbose-vespertine and @actualanxiousswampwitch (only if you want to!)

Bird is a blue heron I caught a picture of hunting in the park this afternoon. Easily one of my favourite local birds

[resol-nare]

Element Aesthetic Meme: Sayeel

I was tagged by @mimabeann​, thank you!

I’ll tag... @verbose-vespertine​, @a-muirehen​, @astrifer-bound​, and @pauletta-00​

AIR.

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE.

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped and torn styles of clothing / i play a sport / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy traveling / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER.

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world/universe / i sleep past midday most days / i love candle light /  i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH.

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER.

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

[goodnightwindy]

liam just said ' astrifer is very little british boy coded to me ' i cant believe one of my characters has been assigned british

[beerecordings]

A Shadow Overcast

Part 19 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

This chapter is dedicated to a dear fren. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. hap birth my dear <333

ALSO @starlightxnightmare I have been waiting for MONTHS to tell you this but you noticed this discrepancy like FIVE CHAPTERS AGO OR SOMETHING LOL i saw your tags and i was like DAMN I’M TRANSPARENT. you asked the exact question that Chase asks in this chapter. love you you genius. enjoy.

My taglist is a separate post. You can ask to be added or removed. I am trying to make sure if it is up to date so seriously please tell me if you want to be taken off! and actually if you wouldn’t mind I would love to hear that you still want to be on the list if you are right now. I don’t know that everyone is still reading anymore and I don’t want to be bugging you!

Anyway. Chapter.

Marvin’s house is full of nightmares, and the magician himself is not there to enchant his brothers to safer sleep. Together, the four of them are shadowed and haunted, fighting and falling, losing grips to cling to with every day that passes.

Jameson Jackson has always dreamed vividly.

He is not the only one.

Blood and the silver gleam of a knife become chemicals at the nape of the brain stem, and Henrik dreams.

He's been taken out of his little prison cell. His handcuffs were removed, the blood was wiped from his cheeks, and careful hands made swaddling of white bandages around his torn flesh and tired ribs. The bone of his left wrist protrudes from his skin, broken in a single motion by Anti's hands not two days before, but it, like everything else in the world, has ceased to hurt him.

Warm is the darkness, gone the cold light.

“Isn't this easier?” asks Anti, not angry, or cold, or even condescending. His voice has the same tone as the night sky, when the stars have escaped from the light and stand singing in the shadow of infinity. “Don't you want to stay with me?”

Henrik is entranced.

Henrik is lost, is found, is lying, exhausted, on Anti's chest, his bruised eyes closed and his mouth, blue as heliotrope, still and silent. He manages a slow nod. Tears leave dark wet patches on Anti's soft black shirt. The demon strokes his hair.

“Yeah, this is better,” Anti hums, burrowing closer to him under the covers of the bed and letting his chin rest on top of Henrik's head.

The doctor's flayed hands reach out to wrap around him, clutching at his sides, at his back, at his thin sharp spine, at his warmth. He is dazed, exhausted, collapsing, in love; he is consumed and adoring, and yes, Anti is right – this is better, this is easier, so much better, so much easier! The warmth is becoming heat and he is shaking, panting, weeping, ill, and for a second something bright and painful explodes through his awareness and he whimpers, but Anti is here to soothe it away with the same hands that have tortured him, tortured him, tortured him –

He wakes up.

Tears cling to his dark eyelashes. The moon has slid in beneath the blinds of his window, coating his blue blankets in recycled sunlight. There's something very warm wrapped around his waist.

Check that. Someone.

Jameson shivers in his sleep, clinging tight to Henrik's shirt and breathing low and slow against his shoulder. For a second, Henrik is repulsed so strongly that he gags, but his disgust is not directed at his little brother.

So fucking pathetic, his brain tells itself. So fucking pathetic. Still craving Anti?

He'd been in recovery, before Anti took him again. He'd been doing alright. He'd forgotten it was possible to hate himself this much – to hate himself so much it makes his chest burn and his heart stutter and his fingers curl up with a desperation that he can't even express in words.

He's sobbing, sobbing like his heart is broken, but he'll be damned if he wakes up his little brother, his little brother who trusts him and only him, his little brother who comes to him weeping and curls up in his arms like he isn't afraid or disgusted by him, who loves him in the simplest and most pure way, a way he doesn't deserve; no, he won't wake Jameson up. He won't wake Jameson up. He'll get up and have something to calm him down, and then he'll come back to bed before the cold wakes jumpy JJ up.

Inch by inch, wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes, Henrik slips out of his bed and limps to his drawer, pulling out his medicine.

“Two tablets before sleep,” prescribes the bottle helpfully. “Do not take more than six tablets in twenty-four hours.”

Henrik pours two pills into his hand and pops them both in his mouth together, swallowing them dry and pausing to breathe afterwards. He turns, for a moment, to glance at his friend. The moon colors an old cut at the bottom of Jameson's throat white and makes his dark bruises, still stagnant after a week of recovery, seem to glow through the cold night light.

How am I supposed to convince the little one that Anti is dangerous when I can't even convince myself? How am I supposed to keep him with me when Anti has that kind of power to offer and I have nothing? How long will he be here with me before Anti steals us both away again? If only he had never been taken. If only I had never been taken. If only I had never been created. God, God! Do I have to live through this shame again?

Death feels close and tastes like a sleeping tablet.

He takes a third pill.

Crawling back into bed, Jameson shifts and curls, digging his chin into his shoulder, and Henrik, breathing in the sweet coconut smell his little brother has adopted, goes back to sleep.

Marvin's house is the only place in the world he and his family are safe. It is no longer a comforting thought. He is tired.

Henrik von Schneeplestein has long been haunted.

He is not the only one.

“Where are you?” whispers Jackie, clutching at the torn remnants of a red cape. “Where are you? Please come home.”

The wind whips loud around him, striking blows against his flesh and tearing at his hair. He grits his teeth against the cutting air and steps forward, forward, farther along the beam of the crane.

Brighton is beautiful 100 meters in the air.

“Where are you?” he screams. “Where, where, where? Don't tell me you're gone, I can't take it! Please, please, come home!”

His boots slip against the metal of the beam, but he gasps and sways and steadies again, inching closer, closer to the edge.

He can't fly.

His body is so fucking shattered, he's so fucking weak, and his little brother will not be there to catch him, will not douse him in blue light and grab his hand, laughing as they rise together, twins and friends and brothers, hallowed by the moon while Jackie fills up with his own homemade sunshine, a hero, a star –

“Focus!” shouts Marvin, and Jackie lets out a scream as he finds his brother all too suddenly before him, his long hair blown wildly about by the wind. He hovers above him like a specter, glorious and beautiful and angrier than Jackie's ever seen him, teeth gritted. “Focus, Astrifer!”

“On what?” he demands, bewildered and terrified, retreating away from this ghost in the air before him, but Marvin follows without hesitation, setting his feet down on the beam of the crane and reaching out a white hand.

“I love you!” he cries. “But I need you to stop crying out! I need you to watch over them!”

“What are you talking about?” gasps Jackie. The wind drags tears from his eyes. “Where are you, please, tell me you're alive, come home, I can't bear this – ”

“Bear it,” says Marvin.

A dream of Marvin, anyway. Jackie's Marvin was never so cold.

“Bear it, protect them. There is all of time and no time at all.”

His hand points back towards the body of the crane. Panting like his heart will give out, Jackie turns his eyes away from Marvin and back towards the darkness.

“S-Seán?” he stammers, catching sight of a silhouette in the darkness.

And there, holding his creator over the edge of a crane tall enough to build skyscrapers, sits Jameson Jackson, staring back at him, one eye blue and one eyes black.

“Enemy or brother?” cries Marvin, over the howling of the wind, terrible and oppressive and endless, a constant, constant, constant enemy cutting close on every side.

“I don't know!” shouts Jackie. “I'm scared!”

“Choose,” answers Marvin. “It is Anti who taught you fear and you must be courageous again, or what you have left will not be yours for much longer.”

Jackie screams, falling to his knees, clinging to the beam beneath his feet. Somewhere far away, he thinks he can hear Chase and Henrik crying out in answer, but in the darkness he can catch no glimpse of them.

“Go back to them,” says Marvin, stepping away.

“Wait,” cries Jackie. “Wait, please.”

“Please, stop begging for me.”

“Why can't I go with you?” he howls. “Why won't you come home?”

Marvin calls an answer, but Jackie is no longer listening. He staggers back to his feet and turns away from Seán and Jameson, moving towards the end of the beam again, trembling and elated, terrified and desperate.

“I want to go with you,” he shouts, and he sees Marvin's mouth move in the shape of his name, and then he has reached the end of the crane and his foot reaches out over nothingness and still he is stepping towards him.

The fire alarm erupts into shrieking and Jackie comes awake screaming and covered in tears, shaking with fever and bleeding from the mouth. Falling, he had bitten his tongue hard enough for the blood to come.

He scrambles out of bed, covering his ears against the crying of the fire alarm, and groans as his chest and back light up with fire. Pausing, he tumbles against the bulletin boards on his wall, strings and pushpins holding together theories and clues, only to find himself staring at his missing persons board, not yet up to date, where Marvin and Jameson's screenshot faces smile back at him from the days when they were both healthy and whole and his.

And he is just the coward who could not save them, coated in a hundred scars and deserving of every one of them, crying so hard he cannot breathe, while his brothers are fighting fire in the next room over.

“You're drunk.”

“Shhh,” pleads Chase, as if Jameson's signing were a shout. “Shhh, I'm not, I'm not, don't say that – ”

“I can tell from the way you move.” Jameson ducks away from his soothing hands, vaguely irritated. “And you would never burn the sausage sober.”

The fire alarm has shut up, but only because they took the batteries out. The whole room is full of smoke. The sausage is very burned. Chase is drunk.

“Cut me some slack, Jamie, I've been having bad dreams and I just needed a break from them. Lately I feel like – ”

“Are you drunk?”

Chase startles to see Henrik appeared halfway down the staircase, glaring across the room.

“N-no,” he answers, grinning flimsily. “Just, uh. Fucked up the sausage. Sorry for setting off the alarm.”

“Jamie,” says Henrik, frowning at him. “Is he drunk?”

Jameson glances between the two of them, considering. Survival is a game and even small decisions like this should be carefully weighed out.

He doesn't want to stress Schneep out, he decides. It's upsetting for the whole house, himself included.

“Don't think so,” he tells Henrik, relaxing against the kitchen counter and grinning. “Just a klutz.”

Henrik stares down at them for a long moment.

“I'm going back to bed,” he grumbles, retreating back up the stairs.

“Thanks, Jay,”  sighs Chase, only feeling a little guilty. Better than getting caught, right?

“Why do you get drunk?”

“Shit, I don't know, cause I'm a fucking moron?” He sighs deep and rubs at his face, opening the door to air out some of the smoke he's created. “It helps me sleep, I guess. Been having bad dreams. And I just – I don't know, kind of anxious lately. You and Schneep are back but... no one else.”

Jameson blinks. Maybe he's just talking about Jack being asleep, but some part of him understands that that's not who he means.

A sixth brother.

Anti only ever spoke about him when he was in what Jameson considered a gentle mood. While the mask might be discussed over a good beating or a pool of blood, the cat was a bedtime horror story, a being whispered of when Anti's arms were around his stomach, his warnings more genuine than his affection.

“Why do they call him a magician?” asked Jameson once, his mouth trembling. “What can he do?”

“Everything,” Anti answered in a whisper. “I don't know the full extent of it.”

“I don't know” was no common phrase in their house.

“I don't know enough to be sure. And so you must assume, my little heart, that the answer is 'everything.'”

Anti leaned in close and kissed his cheek, and when he drew away, there was no one in the world who would have said the softness in his gaze was false.

“Be careful,” murmured Anti, touching his cheek. “If he ever finds a way past me, he will kill you, Dapper. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Anti.”

He buried his face in his brother's shoulder, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, trying to offer comfort.

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

“C-H?” he asks now, turning up his gaze, still not sure what to name his brother. “I want to ask you something.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Where's the cat?”

Down the hall, there is an empty room that still smells of incense and flowers.

“Oh!” Chase grins, turning to him with bright eyes. “You saw him wandering around, huh?”

So he is here! Jameson has been wondering all week where he lives, why he isn't with the others, what happened to him. He sits up straight in his seat, calculating quickly about the danger he might be in. Chase wouldn't let him get hurt, right? Anti warned him about Jackie, too, but Chase and Henrik have kept him safe so far.

“You want to meet him?”

“Is he... friendly?”

“Yeah, super friendly! That one is, anyway. Come on, let's go try to find him.”

“What – outside?”

“Yeah, he spends most of his time outside.”

Jameson's eyes widen. “You'll come outside with me?”

Chase laughs. “I swear you're like a dog when it comes to going on walks. You're a wild man, Jays. Yeah, let's go outside! Fresh air'll probably do my dumb ass some good.”

Jameson's face splits in a wide grin. For a second, he is little different from the man in the video last Halloween, bright and delighted, energetic and expressive, and it makes Chase laugh aloud, instantly cheered. Bolstered by his delight, Jameson jumps down from the kitchen stool and darts to the back door, yanking it open, finding it unlocked, and leaping into the snow.

“Dude!” Chase protests, but he's only laughing harder. “Shoes, you complete pantaloon! Shit, and a coat – can you wait two goddamn seconds?”

Jameson grins and steps down from a wood porch as Chase runs off to get him something to wear. Beneath the slushy spring-touched snow he can feel soft dead grass, and the air cuts like something cleaner and more beautiful than even the blade of a fresh knife across his skin and through his downy hair. Breathing in deep, he propels himself forward and leaps, cartwheeling across the white landscape, picking up snow and tossing it in the air, freed as Anti used to free him.

Days when he was allowed outside were his favorite days. They lived far from civilization – the closest highway was some miles away, not that he knew which direction – and what had once been farmland had become mires of old wheat fields and copses of heavy peaceful trees. The cold rarely stopped him, but then again there were days where he had feared it, like the day the door to the house had accidentally locked and he was stuck outside for hours, weeping as he froze, knocking and pounding for Anti to come save him, his fingers turning white, and then red, and then purple...

He still loved going outside, though. He just never thought anybody would want to come with him. He's not really worth spending time around.

“Here you go,” Chase says, coming up beside him and taking his hands in his own, shoving a pair of soft mittens over his fingers. Jameson blinks up at him, warmed.

“And the coat,” Chase adds, helping him stick his arms into it. Jameson pulls it tight around him and drags the fabric up to his nose, shivering and sighing contentedly into the warmth.

“Here, put my boots on too. We'll have to get you some clothes of your own soon! Maybe next week we can go, if Schneep's feeling safe about it.”

“New clothes for me?”

“Yeah, of course. And anything else you need. I think we could start making that spare room your room, you know? We'll get some decorations or books or something.”

Jameson stares up at him, tugging the second boot onto his foot.

“Everything okay?” asks Chase, frowning. He's wrapped up in a coat and a beanie, wet snow soaking into his sneakers.

Jameson swallows hard, a tsunami of guilt and shame, love and gratitude, uncertainty and caution welling up in his throat.

He wants to keep you, says something in the back of his head. He doesn't plan to throw you out at all. And you're just planning to leave.

Well, answers a darker, angrier part of him, the part of him that wants to tell Chase to fuck off and to run away into the forest and finds his way back to – to what? What's waiting for him? Anti told me the same, that he meant to keep me. That's why we're here. People lie, Jameson.

Chase slings an arm around him and JJ jumps. “Sorry,” Chase chuckles. “I'll warn you next time. Is this okay?”

Jameson reaches up to touch the hand set on his shoulder, turning his head to look into Chase's eyes. The weight of Chase's arm is the best kind of heaviness. He isn't afraid to touch him at all, and only a week ago Jameson had him at gunpoint, glaring down at him with hatred in his eyes.

He always loved Anti, but he would never have called him “good.” Even in his earliest days, he was cognizant of the reality that there was a great cruelty in his brother, and he saw very little goodness in Anti, in the house, in the world around him.

He thinks Chase is probably what goodness looks like.

“Yes,” he knocks. “It's okay.”

For a second, Chase smiles at him so soft that Jameson thinks he's probably what happiness looks like too.

“Sweet!” he says, squeezing his shoulder. “Let's go find that cat, man!”

Chase shoots Henrik a text to tell him they'll be out for a while and they set off into the forest, Jameson still hugged under his brother's arm. Chase can tell he's enjoying himself from the brightness of his eyes and the energy of his step as he wanders beside him, his gaze following the swift brown birds through the sky and the dripping of water from the the dark branches of the trees.

And Athanasius doesn't make himself hard to find. They've only been walking for about twenty minutes when he appears.

“Meow!” he greets them, sprinting up to Chase's side, pressing his head up against his calves, yowling noisily. He's a loud-mouthed cat and always has been. Chase always loved that. He laughs and scoops the little grey cat into his arms, scratching enthusiastically at his ears.

“Hey there, good boy,” he grins, pushing their foreheads together. “How you living, buddy? Ate the last of my fish yesterday, you know. I'll get you more, don't worry.”

He turns around with the cat in his arms, expecting a smile or maybe some tentative attempts to pet him from his little brother, but Jameson just looks confused.

Bewildered, really.

“Um, you good?” he asks, laughing uncertainly.

Jameson stares at Athanasius. “That's... the cat?”

“Yeah?” frowns Chase, double-checking the sign for cat in his head. “Oh! Maybe you were expecting Queenie, huh? You've seen her around, have you? This is Athanasius. Don't ask me why Marvin named him that. He told me once, but it was something about immortality and magic and names he found funny – anyway, this is the cat.”

Jameson bursts into laughter.

“What?” stammers Chase, taking his turn at complete confusion. “What's so funny? Jameson?”

“Holy shit,” says Jameson. He never takes the time to sign curse words, but this – holy fuck. “Anti used to tell me all these stories about how dangerous he is and what a threat and a monster and then you tell me we're going to meet him and you turn around holding – ”

He doubles in on himself, his chest shaking hard. Chase can't help but join him in laughter, setting Athanasius down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The cat,” Jameson repeats, as if it's obvious, and very funny to boot. “The cat – what was that name you just said? I didn't know his name, the three of you don't talk about him. The magician.”

Chase stills, staring. Athanasius sits down beside him, his head tilted up at Jameson. In the trees, the birds have fallen into respectful silence.

Like a vigil.

“Marvin?” whispers Chase.

His voice breaks down the middle of the word. Jameson stops laughing.

“Yes,” he says softly. “That name. Are you okay?”

“I,” says Chase.

Marvin. Marvin. Marvin.

“I'm fine,” he whispers.

Anti used to tell him stories.

Used to tell him he was dangerous.

Used to call him a threat.

“Anti warned you about him?”

Chase can taste his heart in his mouth. It is difficult to breathe. A euphoria is beginning in his chest.

“Anti warned you about Marvin?”

Jameson stares at him. Looks down at his hands.

Knocks “yes,” gently.

“Yes, he warned me.”

Chase wonders that the whole forest does not sing. His heart does.

“Alive!” he screams, so loudly even Athanasius goes scrambling away from him, and then he takes off at a sprint back the way they came, towards Jackie and Henrik and the house their brother gave him, their Marvin, the cat, the magician. “Alive, alive, alive!”

He's been wondering so long.

“Jackie!” he cries, bursting into the house through the back door, panting hard. Is he really so out of shape? Fuck it, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this. He darts down the hallway, showing up in Jackie's open doorway looking like a wild thing, bright-eyed with tears.

He’s been wondering where his big brother is for so, so long.

“What the hell?” demands Jackie weakly, trying to sit up straight in his chair. “Chase, chill.”

He couldn't go back to sleep after the fire alarm. He's just been sitting here, thinking.

Are you really gone? reads a sticky note on one of his bulletin boards, stuck next to a polaroid of Marvin's face, smiling as he holds up a shut-eyed silver kitten, healthy and safe, happy, unharmed...

“Jackie.” Chase draws his attention back. “Jackie, Marvin's alive.”

He feels so many things at once he feels nothing at all.

“Chase,” he whispers, turning away again.

“I mean it! Jameson said so!”

“Jameson – no, he didn't. Or if he did... Look – just – come on, man, don't do this to me, I'm exhausted.”

“He told me Anti warned him about Marvin. That he told him he was dangerous. He wanted to meet him! Look, Jackie, I know how long we've searched. I know how long you tried to find him. And I know it doesn't look good, with all that blood that was on the floor where he was – and his broken mask – and the hand Anti cut off – and I know it's weird that Jameson and Schneep have never seen Marvin in captivity with them, like it seems like Anti would have kept them all together or at least nearby, but – ”

Jackie buries his face in his hands, trying to breathe. He can't handle this right now. He can't handle this ever.

“But Jameson said so and why would he lie?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons, actually,” gripes out Jackie. “Upsetting us, for one. Or Anti told him to. What if he's trying to lead us out of the house? Bet he'll tell you a location next. 'You can find Marvin here!' And then we all get caught by Anti.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Pretty sure I do. Let's not do this now, Chase.”

“Jackie, listen!” Chase moves to his side, gripping the back of his chair and spinning him around so that they stand side by side, but his brother still fails to meet his eyes. “Jameson asked me where he was. He doesn't think Marvin's dead. Don't you think Anti would have told him if he had killed Marv? Why would Anti warn him about him if he was gone? I bet he would be crowing it from the rooftops if he had managed to kill our Marvin. He would have told Jameson.”

“Chase,” says Jackie, just quietly, his nails digging into the end of his arm rests. “Jameson also didn't know that Jack was in a coma. I heard Henrik explaining it to him two days ago.”

“He knew Jack was in hospital. And asleep. I think that counts.”

“Didn't know my name or Marvin's, never once used the word coma – and there's a sign for it, one he knows, I checked – doesn't even know that Anti's had two attempts on Jack's life. Or that I've been fucking crippled since the day Anti beat me. How's that for something Anti should have been crowing from the rooftops?”

Chase pauses and licks his lips, rocking back on his heels. “Okay, fine,” he concedes. “That's weird, but it still doesn't make sense for Anti to not have told... well, yeah, I would think he would have told him that Jack was in a coma and Marvin was dead, but...”

Jackie runs his hands over his face. “Anti didn't tell the little man much, okay? It doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry, I wish it did – trust me, I fucking wish it meant anything. But it just... doesn't.”

There's a lump somewhere low in Chase's throat. “Why are you so determined to say it isn't true? Don't you want Marvin to be alive? You've given up on him.”

Jackie's on his feet so fast Chase nearly tumbles backwards, but his brother grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close, so Chase can't miss the fury in his eyes. The lights are brighter than they were a moment ago. For a second, Chase stares right back at Jackie, his mouth drawn in a snarl, but then his will breaks and tears spark in his blue eyes.

Jackie softens, regret replacing rage. He lets Chase go and sinks back down, slowly, into his chair. He curls in on himself, his chest aching and his heart beating too fast. He looks old. He looks small. The lights have gone dark again and everything is still.

“Chaser,” Jackie croaks. “Will you please go get Henrik? Anti told me something and I think it's time you both heard.”

“What?”

“Please go get Henrik.”

“Where's Marvin?”

“Go get Henrik. Go get Henrik.”

Chase obeys. Henrik comes. And Jackie, in a voice as small as a star-speck and as shaky as a knife-wound, tells them what Anti said.

Jameson has heard screaming many times – screams of anger, of pain, of fury, of fear. Screams of grief, as he finds out that day, are the most horrible of them all.

[a-master-procrastinator]

Important OC Ask : What does your OC smell like?

Oh boy. I have a complicated relationship with smells (my sense of smell is kind of bad, so I don’t know much about what people smell like, unless they wear too much perfume or haven’t bathed in months), so I’m not sure how I would approach this. However, I’ve been tagged recently by @astrifer-bound​​ (by recently I mean 8 days ago), and by 5 people waaay back, so why not give it a try?

Let’s go with Raen.

As person that cares about good looks, Raen cares about her scent, not overly, but enough to maintain hygiene and clean clothes regularly. She isn’t a fan of perfume, but she has to add mint to every aspect of her life, so she uses soap with light mint scent, and this is what she smells like most of the time.

Sometimes you can catch an interesting, it’s like... food? Means she recently visited her parents, and they cooked traditional meal which leaves a strong scent during the cooking process (strong enough to stay on clothes for a couple of days without cleaning), the very reason why Raen is usually “fashionably late” to family gatherings. As much as she tends to be dramatic about it, Raen does not clean clothes for some time to keep that smell, as it makes her feel like home.

And that’s about it, I think.

Oh, and tagging @a-muirehen​, @palepinkycat​, @sleepswithvillains​, @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ and @darth-bagel​ (sorry if you were already tagged).

[ao3feed-gallavich]

FUCK LOVE

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2NeKz7b

by Astrifer

Ian Gallagher has always been the sun.

So staring at him dead in the eye isn’t something to do for cheap fuckin’ thrills, but then, Mickey had always considered himself something of a masochist. So he does it repeatedly, he does it until he’s burning alive.

Words: 4586, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Shameless (US)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2NeKz7b

[zo0pl0op]

oh yeah i made this too

it was meant to be a background for a drawing but i lost motivation to finish said drawing so here’s just the background

the one resembling a cheeto is my friend haunter’s oc oeebo, the chars on the stepmania machine are my other friend spirit’s ocs amarai and max (left to right)

the other two r mine

[westywrites]

Last line tag

Thanks @ratracechronicler for the tag!! I've been busy outlining the next part of The Corvine but I have gotten some writing in, so have the most recent line I've written:

Cambridge watched the raven take flight and soar out the open door. “Until then,” she said and quietly closed the door.

I'll tag @nightskywriter @starlitesymphony @whollyart and anyone else who wants to do it, I'd love to see!

[novae-viking]

Hallo! Im Novae, you can also call me Nova or Andro :]

I made Astrifers, a semi-closed species that you can check out using the Astrifer tag

I like

Architecture

History

Speculative biology/zoology/evolution

Regular ass biology/zoology/evolution

Dsmp

Mcyt

I also do art wich you can see under Noveart

Feel free to talk to me about anything ^^

[abbywritesfiction]

astrifer is stellatus's long suffering moral compass, but stellatus is the one who holds her back from doing impulsive and stupid things

wow tag yourself?? i’m both.

that honestly really sounds like dillan and conrad. conrad keeps dillan from doing stupid stuff (nick does too tbh . .. dillan just needs a lot of extra impulse control bc he has literally none) and dillan tells conrad when he’s being too mean to nick and needs to tone it down.