#evilsontherun

[macrodatum]

M3GAN was gone for the night, dressed up in her favorite pink pajamas to go watch over her brother. The older boys were fast asleep already, and Mark had confirmed through the baby monitor that the twins were comfortable. It was quiet now, just Mark and Jacob — and so the cowboy nuzzled into Mark's collar. Jacob's calloused hand touched the younger man beneath their sheets, holding him by the hip.

After a few minutes had passed, Jacob finally spoke. "Are ya . . . happy, darlin' ?? " His voice was soft. // @evilsontherun

"Happy" was such a foreign word for such a long time that, for a few moments, Mark had to blink himself out of his surprise. With an arm around Jacob's shoulders and their children (plural, God-- who ever thought he'd get to plurals?) retired for the night, though, a soft smile curved his mouth before he nodded his head.

"Yeah." There was hope there, whole and real inside him. It took a good while for Mark to get there all the way, but even with all the blood that's been shed, in the end he had family. Mark had been drowning for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to be above water, but as he turned his head and took a deep breath of Jacob's scent from his hair, he felt more at peace than he ever thought he would before.

"I'm happy." Then his voice lowered, his hand lifting slightly to brush the corner of Jacob's jaw and coax him to meet his gaze. "All the more with you."

He kissed him soft, then nudged lightly at Jacob's nose.

"Are you happy, baby?"

[untracked]

A gloved hand catches the angles of Jacob's jaw, thumb and index pressed firm enough to hold without hurting.

"Jacob." Shaw's voice is as steady as it is clear, purposeful in its attempts to snap the other man out of his groggy state. His index finger rubs a half-inch down the curve of his jaw, and through the thick fabric of his glove the blunt end of his fingernail presses dully into skin. "Come back to me, man."

He's done this enough times it feels like a routine. While Jacob lies in the grass, a mess of blood and dirt all over his boneless body, Shaw continues his attempts to wake him as if he'd simply found the man oversleeping in bed.

Poor, stupid thing. Even as he thinks it, though, Shaw's eyes soften. Poor, poor baby.

"It's morning, Jacob. C'mon, we gotta get you somewhere warm, yeah?"

(The blood all over him cooled down hours ago.)

"We'll clean you up, get you coffee." Shaw's fingers squeeze where they hold him. "You just gotta wake up for me, cowboy."

@evilsontherun // semi-plotted starter, lmao 🥰

[il-mostrc]

Hannibal had always extended a warm invitation to his home for his friends, professing that the door was perpetually open to them. Jacob (@evilsontherun) preferred the outside world to the confines of any dwelling; the myriad sights and sounds of life were far too captivating to trade for the comforts of luxury. This preference led Hannibal to find himself in a quaint coffee shop, one that boldly proclaimed to serve the finest coffee in the world. Such a claim was generally met with skepticism, yet it seemed to resonate with someone as pure-hearted as Jacob. After all, Jacob’s generation was accustomed to the rather unrefined sludge that often settled at the bottom of coffee pots. Hannibal was quite convinced he would still find contentment in such a humble brew.

As their conversation took an unexpected turn into a territory usually deemed taboo, Hannibal felt an unusual sort of intrigue swell within him. Generally, discussions about human relationships were to be approached with caution, yet he had never truly envisioned a future with anyone he might become involved with.

"You have been alive for over two hundred years; it is high time you indulge in some of life’s pleasures," Hannibal remarked with a resigned sigh, deliberately refraining from sampling the coffee that had been ordered. He resolved instead to offer it to Jacob. "I have celebrated this holiday in years past, yet find myself without anyone to dote upon at this moment. It seems, for now, that you are stuck with me, my dear Angel."

His gaze drifted to the commercialized depiction of love that Jacob picked up before wandering to the expansive windows of the coffee shop. Outside, the biting chill of winter swept through the city, prompting individuals to bundle up against the cold. Couples walked closely together, their heads inclined towards one another to brace a biting wind.

"You should allow yourself to experience the delights of the flesh," Hannibal suggested, a playful smile curling at the corners of his lips. "I assure you, the path does not lead to perdition.”

Jacob twirled the little red cellophane heart in his fingers as he sipped his coffee. He had found it on the street — something the wind tore from a decoration, no doubt. One idle thought in their conversation had led to another, and Jacob felt his cheeks color at the mention of Valentine's Day. The cowboy suddenly itched to grab his hat, hung on the closest chair ; if nothing else, he could hide beneath it. "Romancin' ain't much a' something I can talk to," Jacob said, voice lower. "Ain't ever . . . done any kissin' or none a' that. 's not for me, I s'pose. What's the phrase — weren't in the cards for me." His fingertip traced the bit of décor, now flat on the island top. Jacob's gray eyes remained firmly down. "What about you, Doc ?? Ya ever do anything for this holiday ?? "

[pvpermvne666]

Erstmal zu Penny 🐐

[stingslikeabee]

@evilsontherun found the faithless sister

The night was clear and calm when Melissa stepped outside the tent, pausing for a moment just to inhale the mix of crisp, fresh air of the prairies and the scent of the meal cooking in the fire nearby. Jacob had surprised the woman again, finding game even it seemed like none was available; and while the former nun was very much used to handling kitchen duties, he had demonstrated to be equally able to provide for that basic human need.

That freed her time to work on something else that Jacob could not do - mending and sewing. A number of his shirts had been torn rather horribly following certain episodes, and Melissa was painfully aware of how scarce money was for the two of them. In-between the jobs he found as a hand for the local farmers and the coins the brunette earned as temporary helper for a kitchen or at a store, it was more convenient to try and mend the clothes with some extra bits of fabric and thread than it was to acquire new ones.

(Besides, the two of them knew that it was just a matter of time before it happened again.)

Walking towards the taller figure sitting closer to the fire, the former nun made no effort to hide her short trek and then also took a seat over the tree bark serving as chair instead of the ground. She then proudly showed the cowboy the results of her last sewing adventures - a few shirts were now usable again, even if the evidence of the patches was visible (as much as she had tried to go for the same color, there were differences between the worn and the new parts), but luckily a leather vest or coat could hide most of the imperfections.

"I also made you a little something," she mentioned with a small smile that carried a touch of childish mirth. Placing the shirts over her lap and careful to keep them away from the ground dust and fire, Melissa rummaged through a pocket of her skirts, eventually retrieving a scarf made with much more softer stuff and in a darker, somber color (a dark shade of grey). That one was offered directly to Jacob with an encouraging nod of her head, the woman then tracing her own neck as if to indicate the reason for the present.

"I bought some fancy fabric with the coins I made working for that gentleman who hired us for the wedding - I thought this could help when you do not want people to stare or ask insensitive questions," Melissa explained, her smile growing slightly sadder at the end. It was a shame that Jacob had been subjected to something similar to how she imagined her father to have died; if there was a way to keep people from prying into his private affairs, then the woman would like to help him with it.

Jacob had been very brief in explaining the origin of that scar - but Melissa had been to plenty of hangings to avoid posing her own questions. Not long before they met, a couple of farm hands had been sentenced to death for stealing the grain from a ranch's barn - and Father Leonard had been away, running errands for the mayor in a couple of towns over. Melissa had begged for the sheriff to delay the execution until both prisoners had at least a chance to confess and to receive their last rites, but the man was adamant in his refusal.

All that the nun could do back then was to hug the child of one of the men, doing her best to cover the girl's eyes and ears from the ghastly spectacle. It had been the little one's last living relative, having acted out of desperation given how hungry his daughter had been - and now she was an orphan, begging for coin in the streets and only having something to eat when Melissa secretly pulled her into the church's kitchen for leftovers.

It had been just more proof to the brunette that God didn't truly care for injustice - until Jacob came along.

"I hope it doesn't make your skin itch - I tested it on myself first, but you never know," Melissa then withdrew her hand once the gift was delivered, looking at the simmering food with curiosity, "It smells really good, Jacob."

[monsterxmade]

[ cross ] sender shows receiver their crossed fingers for good luck

( @evilsontherun )

Anya’s head lists like a curious puppy. She’d never seen the gesture before now and couldn’t possibly fathom what it meant.

“What in the world are you doing?”

[humanfucker]

this is an optimus prime rp blog, canon-compliant to bayverse transformers, but open to writing with other transformers canons. wiki info is here. blog is current until rotb with spoilers tagged #rotb spoilers. basic rules: IC =/= OOC. crosscanon and OCs beloved. open to shipping M/M, M/F, and M/NB, including interspecies ships. sexual content is tagged #nsfw, while sensitive content is tagged #subject cw (i.e. #torture cw, #body horror cw). writer is 21+, kink-friendly, and will not write smut with minors, but PG-rated stuff is always welcome to writers of all ages. PM me if you have any questions. if you believe tastes in fiction equate real life morality, please block me.

relevant links: about, memes, wishlist, threads mains: @cadeprime, @evilsontherun

[untracked]

Jacob had done his usual for the holiday : made a dinner of pork and beans with whiskey ; crafted flowers of newspaper pages and twine that he quietly tied to Shaw's belt loops ; and pressed a kiss to Shaw's cheek when the sun fell. For this year, though, he added something.

Gently, he captured Shaw's hand and slipped a ring onto his thumb. It was a shining, silver - colored piece that appeared to be made of two nails that had been cleaned and hammered together. The sharp ends were closed, wreathed, while the heads joined atop Shaw's knuckle.

"Used to make 'em all the time," Jacob said softly, tapping the ring with his fingertip affectionately. "Y'take old shoe nails from your horse and do this - for good luck. Reminds ya . . . where you been, on the way to wherever you're goin'." He grinned, gray eyes sparkling.

It takes a long, long time for Shaw to look away from the gift that Jacob slipped onto his finger. The solid weight alone was enough to move him, but the story that comes with it makes him feel... God, it's making him feel happy.

He's never been happy like this before, though, at least not in recent memory. Brows furrowed, he turns his thumb to take in every aspect of Jacob's creation, until finally he lifts his head to meet the other man's eyes.

Christ, he thinks, sudden and sweet, you're incredible.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs. Shaw's smile is soft and his voice is low. "But you say that like I could ever forget you."

Palm pressing to Jacob's cheek, his brows dip slightly as his thumb strokes up the line of bone there. Shaw looks at him with a mix of reverence and affection, stomach fluttering like he's ten again. It's funny how, even years later, a part of him still struggles with believing someone like Jacob could even exist. That someone as pure as him could pick Shaw time and time again.

"You're part of me now, sweetheart." He tucks Jacob's hair over his ear, then draws his hand lower to curve over the back of his neck. "You have been for a while." The kiss he presses to his lips is chaste. "I feel you in my heart, my head. In my fucking guts, too.

"You're home."

Shaw pulls back, meeting Jacob's gaze, and matches his grin.

"I'll carry you with me wherever I go."

And that's love, isn't it?

[vampatriarch]

Carlisle's smile doesn't falter, even as the other man mentions the very same being that has caused so much pain and trauma to poor Jacob. Carlisle truly wishes he could do more to help, but it is impossible to fully help something he doesn't understand. He has tried, but even with the century of experience, this is something new entirely. Vampirism is much more simple, much more black and white. You're either a vampire, or you aren't. This, what Jacob is-- there's no studies, no cases about it. Not that Carlisle has been able to find, at least. Perhaps if he returned to Europe... but he won't, not with Jacob in his life now.

"I know it won't kill you or get infected-- but it hurts, doesn't it? I don't want you to be in pain." His words are as honest as always as he breaches the distance between him and the other man. Gently, he grabs Jacob's arm and turns it so the injury is facing him. The strong scent of blood floods his nostrils, but he gives no reaction. He searches in one of the pockets of his duster coat, pulling out a small kit. Inside, there's needles and thread, as well as disinfectant and gauze and bandages. He proceeds to clean up the injury, before connecting the thread to the needle.

"I can take a look at that, if you'd like." He's all warmth and reassurance, hands patiently placed behind his back. His eyes are kind and soft as they stare at the other, all too aware of the injury they are nursing. Of course, even if he hadn't seen the blood poking out, he would have smelled it from a mile away.

[il-mostrc]

Centuries on Earth had imbued Hannibal with a profound astonishment regarding Jacob's apparent disinclination to fully explore the breadth of his known powers. At any given moment, Hannibal sensed the latent potential in Jacob—a power that could, with a mere thought, transport him across great distances through wormholes. Yet, it was striking that Jacob (@evilsontherun) had never ventured to the East Coast until Hannibal had taken it upon himself to guide him there. It seemed the allure of the West called to him, while Hannibal had largely avoided that region due to its comparative aesthetic lack, preferring the cultured ambiance of the East.

As the day unfolded in the park, Hannibal intended to immerse himself in contemplation about Jacob's upcoming assignments and the enigmatic ability to predict their outcomes. His curiosity ran deep, particularly with matters that eluded his auditory grasp. Having long since distanced himself from dogmatic religious constraints, he had embraced a different path. Yet, he found that Jacob possessed an attention span reminiscent of a goldfish, especially when faced with the new and unfamiliar.

A series of probing questions Hannibal posed were met with persistent interruptions. The frequency of these distractions ultimately prompted him to abandon his quest for insight, leaving him to ponder the wisdom of selecting this location for their discussion. In hindsight, he mused, it would have been wiser to confine Jacob within the controlled environment of his own home.

As his gaze fell upon Jacob’s boots dashing playfully into a nearby bush, Hannibal released a long, exasperated sigh, uttering, “Jaco—” only to be interrupted by a vibrant flower thrust into his line of vision. His gaze shifted to the blossom, which had been nearly shoved under his nose. Blinking in surprise, Hannibal observed as the flower nestled itself into the folds of his meticulously arranged pocket square.

“A snapdragon,” Hannibal parroted. “Have you ever witnessed their decline as they wither and decay over time? When that moment arrives, they bear a striking resemblance to bleached skulls.” A smile graced his lips, revealing his belief that all beauty is inevitably tinged with macabre undertones. “Perhaps your intuitive perceptions are far more acute than I had previously surmised.”

His dexterous fingers reached out to gently caress the crimson petals of the flower. He did look good in red.

Twice he had already left Hannibal's side - unintentionally, drawn off by something in the park. Jacob had never spent much time on the East Coast, which meant that everything seemed new. Some birds he recognized, some plants, but they did not give him the same thrill as those he did not. When he didn't know what he was hearing or looking at, he would politely ask the closest person ; surprisingly, the almost shy but frank innocence of the cowboy seemed to make perfect strangers happy to listen and share ( or offer their best guess ). The third time, Jacob practically ran off of the path, leaving Hannibal barely at the end of his sentence. He disappeared among the bushes, only to emerge a few minutes later with a red flower in his fingers. The cowboy stepped in front of Hannibal and quickly tucked it into the breast pocket of his overcoat. It was a bright plume of red snapdragons. Jacob regarded them from under his hat. " 's'good color for ya," he mused. Jacob turned suddenly, and the spurs on his boots made a soft metallic ring. He pointed to where he had been. "There's a fella over there said them were snapdragons. They ain't bitin' or lizard - like t'me, but I guess they ... " Jacob cleared his throat, a gray eye glancing over his shoulder. "They reminded me a'you, Doc." A calloused hand rose and rubbed at the back of his neck self - consciously, mindful of the scarf tied around it.

[stingslikeabee]

available verses (public and private)

This is a masterlist of available verses for Melissa, public & private. This post will be updated as new verses are included and other verses are retired; please note that private verses are exclusive for the writing partners mentioned below while public are available for anyone (also available under the verses page).

Retired verses (public or private) are listed for archiving purposes and are not available.

Active general verses:

v: FFVII v: FFXII v: FFXV v: FFXVI v: the Evil Queen v: Yakuza v: Killer Queen v: House of Flowers v: Path to Nowhere v: the Continental v: Alice in Borderland v: the Fortune Teller

Active exclusive verses:

- exclusive with @dojimakaichou: v: Yakuza ; dragon king AU v: Yakuza ; detective AU v: Yakuza ; Addams Family AU v: Yakuza ; medieval AU v: Yakuza ; vampire AU v: Yakuza ; merfolk AU v: Yakuza ; first lady of the Tojo AU v: Yakuza ; space federation AU v: Yakuza ; wild west AU v: Yakuza ; American dream AU v: Yakuza ; werewolf AU v: Yakuza ; serpent curse AU v: Yakuza ; demoness AU

- exclusive with @kansaisdragon: v: Yakuza ; bodyguard AU

- exclusive with @healthkits: v: Americana

- exclusive with @sierra6x: v: Blood Moon Rising

- exclusive with @strongfuck: v: Atlas and the Sun v: the pool of Mnemosyne

- exclusive with @withthedoubleg: v: the Eyes of the Dragon

- exclusive with @hisroyalmagnificence: v: wish you were mine

- exclusive with @finalslay: v: tale as old as time v: a scandal for the ages

- exclusive with @hyperionhero: v: daughter of Calliope

- exclusive with @saishuu-heiki: v: mother of calamity v: all things will decay (except for this bond)

- exclusive with @antielevator: v: there are more things in heaven and earth than we dreamed of

- exclusive with @sweariff: v: clap your hands if you believe

- exclusive with @lncarnon: v: a golden cat in a black night v: on the sidelines of history

- exclusive with @backwaterscum: v: mending these broken wings

- exclusive with @il-mostrc: v: there's no caging a bird of prey

- exclusive with @divinejudge v: FFVII ; Siren AU

- exclusive with @bloodypuzzle: v: speak not of retribution but of a reawakening v: war makes fools of us all (but so does love) v: a thousand years of longing v: the cards do not lie v: once upon a time in the west

- exclusive with @macrodatum: v: no memories should be taken for granted v: nightmare alley v: somewhere in time v: the substance

- exclusive with @poeticphoenix: v: arts of destruction

- exclusive with @evilsontherun: v: God works in mysterious ways

- exclusive with @untracked: v: if only we had looked back v: runaway royalty

- exclusive with @rehandles: v: the future is not set in stone

- exclusive with @empathbled: v: the hollowness in me echoes in you

- exclusive with @eighthourbliss: v: we once lived under the sun

- exclusive with @dandylionsden: v: a royal affair v: the handmaiden

- exclusive with @thisiamowed: v: this tangible absence

- exclusive with @everyfuckinwhere: v: home to the greyhounds

Retired general verses:

v: Kingdoms of Gaia v: Jazz Age

Exclusive retired verses:

v: Once Upon a Time v: Sucker Punch v: FFVII ; secretary AU v: FFVII ; wolfsbane AU v: Nightingale

[il-mostrc]

Hannibal had graciously granted Jacob (@evilsontherun) unrestricted access to his residence whenever his duties with patients occupied his time. This arrangement often extended into the late hours, occasionally allowing Hannibal to indulge in a few evenings where he would entertain Jacob—or vice versa. He was never fully prepared for the myriad of stories that would unravel the moment he crossed the threshold of his foyer.

Historically, Hannibal had been reticent to engage with his neighbors, scarcely knowing their names or whether they owned pets. It was Jacob who swiftly acclimated to the surrounding community, forming connections with various individuals. Unfortunately, Jacob also possessed a tendency to recount details about his life and the people intertwined within it. Consequently, Hannibal's private existence became a subject of public interest; the neighborhood was now intimately aware of his identity and the affiliations he shared with Jacob.

Jacob's Bingo offer was an opportunity to tempt, though he found that the little blue haired ladies at the church were far more sinful than he ever imagined. They say you get more conservative as you get older, this was in fact, a lie.

A pretty big lie.

Hannibal had never before experienced such relentless advances. Despite the countless souls he had encountered throughout his life, none had been as unabashedly bold as these elderly women. His rear was sore for days, those needle fingers pinching in all the soft spots. With an exasperated groan, he let his gloves fall onto the nearby furniture, casting his eyes heavenward in a moment of frustration.

"For Satan's sake, Jacob, you needn’t go to such extravagant lengths for the sake of our neighbors. Permit me at least a modicum of solitude where I am spared from responding to a cheerful ‘Hi-Diddly-Ho, neighbor!’… Things were decidedly quieter before your arrival,” he lamented. It was irksome to realize that the entire neighborhood was now privy to his existence through Jacob's extensive socializing. His gaze drifted to the tin resting on the living room table, a wretched gift from Ms. Mabel—her infamous cookies. While Hannibal loathed them, Jacob, in his usual fashion, indulged in them heartily, which only encouraged Ms. Mabel to continue her relentless baking. This latest tin was the third to infiltrate his home, much to his chagrin.

With a reluctant swallow, Hannibal exhaled deeply before continuing, “I shall venture forth, hoping that divine retribution strikes me down while I traverse that church.” A shiver ran down his spine at the very thought, though he was convinced that it was the throngs of well-meaning yet overly enthusiastic elderly women who shielded him from the sanctity of the holy spirit within the church.

They were wicked grannies.

Jacob trotted down the stairs with his familiar enthusiasm, a towel scrubbing through his damp hair. No brush was ever required -- he would fetch his hat, cover it all, and be done with the matter. The cowboy stepped in the door of the living area. He let his towel fall around his neck, hands holding to either end. "Hey there, sir," he greeted Hannibal, smiling his brightest. "Thought that was ya, comin' home. Ya missed a full day ; a dog's missin' off the folks a few doors up. There's two little 'uns lookin' for it, with their ma . . . " Jacob sighed, expression dipping sadly. " -- 'm gonna go help 'em some more. Nothin' worse than a couple a' kids cryin' on ya." The cowboy moved to turn away and then paused. He glanced back over a broad shoulder, brow raised. "Ms. Mabel gave us more a' those cookies. We were gardenin' 'fore I saw them kids out hollerin'. Y'know, she said bingo's back on in the church basement this Friday. S'pose 'm goin' . . . 'n she told me 'm allowed a partner again." Jacob scratched at his beard, unable to help his own curiosity. "Ya think ya'd want t'come, Doc, or are ya still sore from the first time ?? " Not that Jacob could blame Hannibal if he swore the occasion off forever -- the bingo ladies had been rather charmed by him, for better or for worse.

[il-mostrc]

Hannibal’s residence exuded a captivating allure that seemed to reach toward the celestial angels above. Perhaps it was an undercurrent of foreboding, brought to life by an atmosphere that only the ethereal beings could perceive. Alternatively, it may have been the aroma wafting through the air; Hannibal always maintained that only those with diabolical inclinations could truly detect the scent of angels lingering nearby. Regardless of the origin, Jacob (@evilsontherun) had a remarkable tendency to inhabit the spaces where Hannibal found himself.

No matter the distaste that heaven held for the fallen angels of yore, Hannibal had always courteously offered his home to the cowboy. This was another example as he was fixated on a new course in the kitchen, his samples spread out on the table in vacuum-sealed assortments: kidneys, liver, sweetbreads… Could Jacob sense even these on the table?

Apparently not, as Jacob arrived before Hannibal had the opportunity to shed his coat and don his apron. The cowboy had a penchant for stealth, amusing himself with the notion of ‘emerging’ in moments when Hannibal was not looking. Yet, he had yet to genuinely surprise Hannibal; the seasoned individual possessed an acute awareness that was far superior to Jacob’s attempts at stealth.

“It has been merely a day, Angel,” Hannibal remarked, his posture unwavering as Jacob encircled him with his arms from behind. “You are far too tender-hearted for your own good. Those angels above would undoubtedly rend you to pieces should you ever venture through their celestial gate.” In truth, Jacob’s affections never truly irked Hannibal, regardless of the playful barbs he often delivered.

Reaching over his shoulder, he plucked Jacob's hat off the top of the man's head and tossed it on the counter by the other various meats. "Take a seat, I'll fix you something." If anyone knew Hannibal, that sentence was equivalent to the fondness of appreciation towards another. For his love language had always been this.

Jacob was announced by the heavy steps of his boots, the jangle of his spurs, and the rustle of leather — and then, most notably, by the strong arms that wrapped around the demon from behind. The brim of Jacob's hat softly bumped into Hannibal's head as the angel buried his face in the curve of Hannibal's neck. His beard was coarse and thick. Brown and gray waves tumbled over the demon's shoulder, sweeping gently over Hannibal's suit. The cowboy was careful not to squeeze too hard, lest he wrinkle the pretty fabric. Jacob seemed to settle in place, eager to hang on until he was chased away. "Missed ya," Jacob murmured, gruff voice laced with such emotion that it was hard to believe that it had only been one day since he last saw the demon.

[monsterxmade]

@evilsontherun gets a starter from Aris.

The gun clicks as Aris flips off the safety, the barrel aimed for the angel’s chest. He doesn’t know what Jacob is. How can he? All he knows is that one man stand before him and the daughter he has come to collect, determined to reclaim his life’s work. Killing to achieve this is something that elicits no guilt, just as he feels no guilt watching Anya slaughter stolen child after stolen child.

The teenager herself stands behind Jacob, willing to let the man shield her. It was not her preferred way of facing her fears but Aris makes her feel something beyond fear and terror, and if Jacob is willing to put his life on the line to keep her out of Aris’ clutches, well…she’ll let him. They are not so close yet that Anya’s instincts have shifted away from self preservation.

[monsterxmade]

" — c'mere, kiddo." Jacob slipped out of the leather duster he wore, shook some of the dirt from it, and gently set it on Anya's shoulders. The garment was heavy, which he hoped would work to their benefit now. " . . . 's too cold for ya to have nothin'."

After a moment, the cowboy's calloused fingers tentatively pulled her hair free of the collar. Jacob smiled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Let's go get some dinner, yeah ?? "

( @evilsontherun )

The jacket settles on her narrow shoulders with a surprisingly comfortable weight, her own warmth instantly filling the spaces beneath it and radiating back at her. Anya pulls it tighter across her body. It is far too big and it wraps entirely around her with ease, covering her from shoulder to mid-thigh. Still, a shiver travels down her spine as his fingertips brush the back of her neck. She swallows an instant sense of unease and looks back, nodding.

“Yeah.” She’s starving already. Keeping herself warm, keeping the fire inside her balanced to do so without harming Jacob, takes so much energy. “Dinner.”

[monsterxmade]

[ BRAID ]: sender, sitting behind the receiver’s back, begins to braid their hair.

( @evilsontherun )

Anya hair is a mess of ginger curls, tangled together despite her best efforts to keep them neat, frizzy from the brush she fights to pull through them every morning. Jacob has a gentler hand and Anya (reluctantly) lets him make sense of the mess this morning, working through the knots and then braiding it to help stop them from forming again. The bouncing of her knee might suggest otherwise, but she is grateful. She’s just terrible at sitting still. Her words don’t help this deceiving appearance.

“You don’t have to do this you know. I can take care of myself.”