#like that sorta constant awareness of 'what should my face be doing right now' while trying ro figure out what other people are feeling

[besalisks]

It seems like every oc of mine ends up autistic

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Tim Sullivan

(My gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This movie was genuinely amazing. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.)

- There isn’t an exact memory that you can recall when explaining how you met Tim. It was probably some time around the first grade; you knew you’d gone to the same school since then. You also knew that you’d drifted in and out of each other’s lives; through being placed in the same classes, after that.

- Regardless, you and him weren’t close, not for a long time at least. You were aware of each other’s existence sure, but only as peers, passing faces on the classroom or hallway.

- It wasn’t until around the seventh grade that you actually became acquainted. It was around that time that you started using your allowance to visit the comic stand after school. That was where Tim first became interested in you, him and the other; at the time, two boys.

- You’d just finished buying an issue and were beginning to walk home when him and his friends rolled up on their bikes. You glanced at them for a moment as you continued to walk, noticing that their eyes moved from the comic in your hands to your face in surprise. You paid it no mind.

- You were the topic of conversation for nearly an hour. They voiced their disbelief, then made some raunchy comments, and then, they trailed off with an earnest “maybe we should, I don’t know, ask if she wants to hang out or something.”.

- They were kind of at a loss; a pretty girl who likes comics was a weeks worth of soapy rag material. They all just stopped mentioning you and moved onto a different topic after that.

- The next day, the boys lingered at the front entrance, pretending like they weren’t watching you as you walked towards the school, pausing as you waited for the first bell to ring.

“Well, is anybody gonna go talk to her?” Tim had been the first one to speak. Everyone remained silent and he scoffed. “Fine you pansies, I’ll do it.”

- As you can imagine, you were a bit surprised to be approached by the boy as you leaned against the school gate. You politely returned his greeting before glancing back at the school awkwardly.

“So...swamp thing, huh?”

-The comment threw you for a loop until you remembered the previous day. Nodding, you expressed your interest in the comic and asked if he was a fan as well, prompting a mini conversation that was interrupted by the bell ringing.

- Just before the two of you said goodbye, he invited you to hang out with him and his friends after school, an offer you awkwardly; somewhat, accepted as you began to walk inside.

“Yeah, I mean that should be fine. …See ya.”

- They waited for you in front of the school after classes let out, debating with each other on whether they should just go as you were a bit late. Thankfully though, you showed up at just the right time, apologizing and explaining that Assumpta had kept you late to help her after class.

- They all sweetly assured you that it was fine, as though half of them weren’t just planning on ditching you. And thus, you began your journey to their usual hangout and your subsequent friendship with the group of boys.

- Fast forward a year or so, you’re a certified member of the group, contributor to the comic, and Tim's “secret” crush. Everyone in the group besides you knows that he has a thing for you and it’s one of the few things they can actually make fun of him for.

- It’s around that time that you realize you like him too and; unable to deal with your sudden feelings, start acting all quiet and sort of weird around him. He takes notice of your hesitance to be alone with him and your odd behavior and the next time you wind up alone together, he asks you about it. You insist that nothing is wrong and he starts to badger you. 

- One thing leads to another and soon enough you’re wrestling each other around the room. After a bit of struggling, you manage to pin him down, angrily telling him to shut up as you straddle his torso. Both your chests are heaving as you stare down at him and he stares up at you. You stay like that for a long, quiet moment before you climb off of him, grabbing your things and booking it out of your gangs little hideout. 

- He lays on the floor for a while before he leaves as well, showing up at your house later that day and acting like nothing happened, convincing you to come do something with him. In an effort to forget about what happened and just smooth things over, you agree. 

- Soon enough, everything is back to normal, but after a while of the two of you busying yourselves with whatever it is you were doing, silence falls upon you and he asks if you “want to talk about it”. 

- You tell him you like a guy and he nods, his heart clenching in his chest as he teases you lightly. He asks you who it is and you remain quiet. He nudges you with his shoulder and begins to teasingly pester you until you tell him it’s someone in your group. You cant even begin to imagine how shitty that makes him feel. 

“Francis?” He asks, almost as though he already knows the answer. Your denying it genuinely surprises him. “Wade?” Wrong again.“...Joey?” he asks as though it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. You shake your head  without looking at him. 

“Then...,” The two of you sit in silence as it dawns on him. You remain silent when he finally, tentatively asks “Me?”

“Can I kiss you?” You turn your head to look at him before slowly nodding, a small smile threatens to pull at his lips as he leans in.

- His hand hovers at the side of your face as he softly presses his lips to yours. When you break apart, you look into each others eyes for a long moment before his hand finally touches your skin and he kisses you again; this time with more confidence. 

- The two of you spend the rest of the day stealing kisses and wandering around the overgrown and abandoned parts of town. You suppose you could consider this your first date, mainly because it’s so similar to what you usually do for “dates”. 

- And thus, you begin your relationship with the rebellious alter boy. 

- Not a lot of Pda happens in your relationship. You’re both sorta young and inexperienced so there’s that constant “should I, shouldn’t I” internal debate when it comes to affection. Most of the time, he leans towards the “wait until you’re alone” side of things.

- That being said, when you are alone, he’s much more willing to be affectionate; albeit it with a bit of juvenile hesitance.

- While he certainly wouldn’t mind feeling you up, he’s sort of more interested in the innocent aspects of romance. He isn’t really in a huge rush to “make it” with you; he likes kissing and hugging just fine.

- Shoulder kisses.

- Soft, sorta slow kisses. When you first got together, you hadn’t expected him to be so ...sweet when he kissed you. You expected hard and quick but you were pleasantly surprised.

- Makeout sessions.

- Kissing you is therapeutic for him. Whenever he just wants to get away from the world, he likes to lean over and press his lips to yours.

- He likes to be the big spoon and nuzzle his forehead into your hair/back of your neck. With that being said, he can cuddle in just about any position the place you’re in will allow.

- He likes your odd quirks, he thinks they make you cool. You’re out of the ordinary and so is he; you make a good couple.

- Constant teasing.

- As much as he likes to tease you, he likes to compliment you just as much. He’s always eager to tell you when you do something well, insisting that you do or that it’s true when you try to brush off his praise.

- He gives you a specific nickname, something that only he would ever call you. He likes having that special little connection.

- Getting notes sent to you. Excuse me, poems with notes at the end.

- He’s obviously got a pretty rough home life and has dealt with some tough shit over the past few years. He doesn’t really like talking about it so you just have to be there for him when he wants to hang out and get away from it all; though he’s sort of used to it by now.

- He doesn’t invite you over a lot, for obvious reasons.

- Sneaking out at night to go hang out with him.

- Spending hours together. The two of you are out of your houses from early in the morning to late at night whenever you can be.

- You act like really close friends more than you do a couple at times, most people at your school sort of assume you’re just friends because of it.

- The two of you sort of just hang out together rather than go out on typical dates.

- Reading comics. He likes either lying his head on your shoulder or having you lay your head on his.

- Riding your bikes together.

- Dates at abandoned buildings.

- Walking through the woods and marshes together.

- Skinny dipping/swimming in the lakes of your town.

- Cloud gazing. You lay together and just stare at the sky.

- You’ve significantly lowered his need to make trouble since you’re always there when he’s bored. Does he want to go destroy something or kiss you? Its a hard decision.

- Deep, sometimes dark conversations. He’s been forced to grow up sort of quickly and because of that he knows just how cruel the world can be. Sometimes, he just can’t help but talk to you about it and, sometimes without even realizing it, ruin your wall of innocence and naivety.

- Dark humor and morbid jokes. He’s a sick monkey.

- Whenever he gets a cut, scrape or bruise, he’ll always teasingly ask you to kiss it. He tells himself that he’s just messing with you but whenever you actually do do it, he’s both flustered and pleased.

- I feel like Tim would use any injury he gets to draw your attention to him, even if it really doesnt hurt that much. It would be especially common before the two of you started dating. He just likes having you focused on him and touching him gently.

- Drawing and writing on his cast.

- Helping him with his pranks. He always tells you that he can’t do it without you; he knows that it breaks your resolve.

- He’s an adrenaline junkie; he likes dangerous stunts and getting his heart racing so expect to be involved in a few scenarios that would give your parents a heart attack.

- Getting high/drunk with him or just dealing with him while he’s high/drunk. Don’t worry, he’s usually pretty mellow, especially when he gets high.

- He can notice when something’s wrong and will always ask “whats the matter with you”. He’s usually pretty good at making you feel better, even if it’s just by saying something stupid and not judging you.

- Just a fair warning, you shouldn’t trust him with secrets that involve people he knows or involves something that he might just so happen to leak into a conversation.

- Tim hates being ignored, mainly because hes so ignored at home. He always gets sorta angry/upset when you don’t give him attention.

- He can get really jealous in certain situations though he’s just a jealous person in general. It’s primarily because he cares about you so much and doesnt want to take a chance on having the one real good thing in his life leaving him.

- He’s not necessarily protective but he is caring. He’s always looking after you, even when you’re fighting or angry with each other. He doesn’t ever want anything happening to you.

- Aren’t you even gonna ask me if I’m pissed? I wouldn’t say Tim has a short temper but certain things do make him really angry and will cause the two of you to fight. He doesn’t yell, he hates yelling, but he will say the occasional insulting thing or tell you; very seriously, not to do something ever again.

- That being said, he calms down very quickly and remains calm if you’re the one who’s upset. He earnestly asks if you want to talk about it when you seem to just be upset because of something else, even if you just tore into him.

- He always tries to just ignore the fact that you’ve been fighting and move on, smoothing things over like they never happened. He doesn’t need an apology but if he thinks you deserve one, he’ll give it to you.

- He doesn’t tell you he loves you very often but he’ll occasionally surprise you with one, usually when you least expect it or when he’s really thinking about how much you mean to him and how well you treat him.

- Tim doesn’t talk about the future with you very often, sometimes he’ll mention something he wants to do in life or jokingly talk about what you’re gonna do together but that’s about it.

- As awful as his parents marriage is, it surprisingly hasn’t ruined his view on the matter. He; very maturely, tells himself that he’ll never be like them and that when; not if, the two of you get married, you’ll be so much better.

[fics-of-culture]

4 Ways To Show Someone You Love Them 5/5 *Complete*

Summary:  Gabriel, Lucifer, Balthazar, and Cas all consider themselves fairly adept when it comes to the art of romance. They all have their own unique approach when it comes to wooing someone. And, unfortunately for you, all four of your beloved angels seem to have their sights set on you.

Words: 1,771

A/N: I am reposting all of my old fics because my old account accidentally got deleted.

Part 5: Epilogue

Sam and Dean were halfway to committing angel genocide. You had been gone for a week on a hunt without telling anyone where you were headed or how long you’d be away. As a result, all four of your ‘winged dicks’ as Dean called them, were hanging around the bunker 24/7 waiting for your return. It wasn’t very noticeable at first. Dean has been sitting in the kitchen, drinking a beer when Cas showed up suddenly. Dean was unfazed by his sudden appearance, having grown accustomed to angels poofing in and out of the bunker as they pleased. Castiel looked around the room as he asked where you were.

“Hunt.” Dean replied dismissively, continuing to drink his beer.

“Do you know where? I need to speak with Y/N. It is urgent.” Dean looked up at Cas, concerned about why Castiel needed to speak to you so urgently.

“Didn’t say. What’s the matter, Cas. Y/N in trouble or somethin’?” Castiel shifted nervously on his feet, not wanting to tell Dean what he needed to talk to you.

“No. Y/N’s not in any trouble as far as I am aware.” With that, Castiel turned and walked out of the room. Dean was left sitting there in confusion at the odd conversation. As Castiel stepped out of the kitchen, he headed towards the library, contenting himself to wait in the bunker until your return.

~~~~~~~~

The boys only had to wait a few days more for their next angelic headache to show up. Sam had been rinsing his hair in the shower when he realized he could no longer feel the water washing over his body. When he opened his eyes he realized that instead of standing in his shower, he was standing buck naked in his room. And standing before him was the infamous trickster himself.

“Dude, what the hell?” Sam shouted, attempting to cover his junk with his hands.

“Oh relax, Sammy. I’m not trying to sneak a peak.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and a towel appears in his hand. “I’m looking for Y/N.” Sam let out an irritated sigh as he took towel Gabriel offered him.

“Y/N went on a hunt.” Sam explained as he covered himself with the towel. “Surely you could’ve waited until I was done showering to ask me that.” Sam frowned as he ran his fingers through his still damp hair, noting the shampoo that hadn’t been fully washed out.

“Could’ve. But didn’t.” Gabriel had a smirk on his face, but Sam could still see a ticker of disappointment in Gabe’s eyes when he mentioned that you were gone.

“What do you need Y/N for anyway?” Instead of responding, Gabe raised his hand and snapped Sam back into his shower. Gabe let out a sigh as he left Sam’s room. He had no interest in explaining himself to tweedle dee when it came to you. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Gabe decided to head to the kitchen. Might as well grab some snacks as he waited for you to arrive.

~~~~~~

Dean was working on baby when Lucifer zapped in.

“Hey moron,” Dean let out a groan of frustration when he was pulled out from under the car by none other than the devil. He was getting really sick of constantly being bothered by the angels you called friends. “Where’s my human?” Lucifer was blunt and too the point. But Dean didn’t like the way he referred to you as ‘his’.

“First off, Y/N does not belong to you, and second, if you’re looking for Y/N you’ll have to get in line.” Lucifer scoffed as he considered Dean’s words. His brothers had been seeking you out as well. That... would not do.

“So my human isn’t here?” Dean sighed, knowing his words weren’t gonna get through to the devil any time soon.

“No. Went on a hunt.” Dean didn’t even bother with full sentences at this point, considering how many times he had to repeat the information to your impatient angels. “Can I get back to what I was doing now?” Dean gestures to baby.

“I suppose so. Since you seem to have no useful information anyway.” With that, Lucifer disappeared.

~~~~~~

By the time Balthazar appeared, the Winchester’s knew something was up. Sam and Dean had been researching possible hunts in the war room when he showed up. Before he could even open his mouth, Dean cut him off.

“Not here.” Sam chuckled a bit at Dean’s dry response.

“I see.” Balthazar looked around the room, thinking. “And I suppose I’m not the first one to inquire as to Y/Ns whereabouts?”

“Dude, not even close.” Sam answered.

“Yeah, your brothers have been harassing us for the past week. I’m five seconds away from cutting myself open and banishing all your asses.” Dean looked exasperated as he spoke.

“Well then, I suppose I ought to wait elsewhere for Y/N’s return.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Sam said. With that, Balthazar sauntered out of the war room. Sam and Dean looked at each other and sighed in unison. You needed to get back, NOW.

~~~~~

You let out a relaxed sigh as you stepped out of your truck. You’d enjoyed your time away, but you were happy to be back home. Your guilt flared up as you stepped through the door into the bunker. You hadn’t actually gone on a hunt like the Winchester’s had thought. You’d kinda sorta went on a little vacation. In your defense, cases had been far and few in-between lately and you deserved a break every once in a while. You figured that if something came up while you were gone, the brothers would be more than capable of taking care of it. And you had decided not to tell anyone to avoid any unwanted angels coming along with you. As much as you adored your angels, you needed a break from them sometimes. Your guilt grows as you walk into the library to see a very frazzled Sam and Dean.

“Oh thank god.” Dean pulled you into a bear hug, looking incredibly relieved that you were home. “Where have you been?” Dean pulls back to look you in the eye. You’re surprised by how distressed he looked.

“Dean? What happened? You look stressed.”

“Those asshats happened! That’s what!” Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to cool off.

“What he means to say is that, while you were gone, your angel friends have been making things difficult for us.” Sam shoots you a sympathetic smile when he sees your crestfallen look. Dean, however, marches on.

“Yeah, they’ve been here day in and day out for the past two weeks making life hell. Between the constant pranks and nonstop bickering, we haven’t been able to get anything done.” You feel awful all of a sudden. You had no idea going on a little trip would take such a toll on the Winchesters. You’re also incredibly upset at your angels for acting like this. You leave for two weeks and the bunker is thrown into chaos.

“Alright,” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’ll sort this out. Where are they?”

“Your room.”

~~~~~~

You sigh as you head up to your room, all the relaxation from before completely drained by the stress of dealing with four angelic children. As you near your room, you start to hear the bickering that the boys had mentioned before.

“As if Y/N could ever fall for you.” You slow to a standstill as you hear this. It sounded like Lucifer but you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

“Oh yes, I’m sure Y/N much prefers you following her around like a lost puppy whilst acting like you couldn’t care less about them.” Ah, Balthazar. Well that explains that mystery. You hear a chuckle from somewhere else in your room. “I don’t see why you’re laughing.” Balthazar continues. “You’re just as bad when it comes to constantly being up Y/N’s ass 24/7.

“Oh right.” You identify Gabe’s voice this time. You note the rising irritation in all of their voices as the discussion continues. “Maybe I should just go around talking to them in a language no one here actually SPEAKS, because you’re to much of a coward to say how you feel in English.” Before Balthazar can respond, a gravely voice speaks up.

“This conversation is pointless.” Cas points out. You feel relieved that one of them is finally being objective about the situation. “Besides, it is my belief that I share a more profound bond with Y/N than anyone else here does.” So much for objectivity, you think idly.

“If Y/N needs someone I braid their hair, I’m sure you’ll be the first they call.” Lucifer states dryly. “But I find it incredibly hard to believe Y/N would choose someone so pathetic.”

“Watch who you’re calling pathetic there, baby bro.” Gabe starts up again. “Cassy here might be a wet blanket.” You hear a quiet ‘hey!’ In the background as Gabriel speaks. “But he ain’t the one who threw a celestial bitch fit in heaven when daddy didn’t give him what he wanted.”

“I’m sorry, where were you when that happened?” Lucifer’s voice was steeped in anger now. “Oh right, you were busy running your ass away from heaven. And speaking of angels who ran away...” Lucifer’s voice is drowned out by Balthazar’s protests. Everyone was shouting over each other at this point. You knew you needed to intervene at this point, but for a moment you just felt frozen. Your angels, were all in love with you. That much was clear from what you’d overheard. Everything was suddenly much clearer to you now. All of your friends’ odd behavior as of late had been their attempts to woo you. You felt foolish for not realizing this until now. You wondered if any of them had been very successful in their attempts. Of course, there was one angel who had managed to completely sweep you off of your feet even before all this began. And now you knew without a shadow of a doubt that he loved you as much as you loved him. You shake off these thoughts and go to open the door to your room.

The room falls silent as all four angels turn to see you standing in the doorway. Each one of them, Lucifer included, at least had to decency to look embarrassed that you’d overheard their argument.

“I think,” You look over to angel. The one you love with all your heart. And your heart pangs as he smiles softly at you. “We need to have a talk.”

[a3imaginesblooming]

Summer Breeze || One-Shot Juza Hyodo x Reader

Contains: Fluff, Profanity (It’s Juza), Juza x Reader.

—

Juza could literally feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead in the stifling heat. He swiped at them with his palm, sighing heavily. Cicadas’ chirps buzzed across the courtyard and straight into his eardrums, another irritating staple of the current season. This was not the ideal place to try and concentrate on his lines, but he felt more reluctant to go back inside and deal with Settsu’s constant bitching. Even if he had to sweat it out here, he could deal with that if it meant

some peace and quiet.

More important was his role. Tsuzuru had finished up earlier than expected, and looking over what he’d been assigned… He wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. It just wasn’t him, and his frustration only ate away at him every day he found himself out here, practically glaring holes into the paper. What in the hell was a romance subplot doing in an Autumn troupe play? Better yet, why did Minagi think casting him for it was a good idea? He should know Juza wasn’t suitable to portray some dumbly lovestruck guy...

Well, maybe that was a lie.

As if somehow on cue, Juza caught a figure emerging from the dorms out of the corner of his eye. It was (Y/N), (Favourite Drink) in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. Hung around their elbow was a basket he knew would contain an assortment of treats.

He quickly pressed the copy closed, cast it out of his mind. To see their happy face right now was suddenly far more appealing than getting worked up over lines and lines of increasingly confusing dialogue— he didn’t get creative types at all. Besides, his taste buds were all but crying out for something sweet.

“Hi, Juza!” They chirped in a greeting, smiling widely from ear to ear. He felt warmth radiate through his chest at the sight.

“...Hey.”

As they came closer, (Y/N)‘s brows knit together in an expression of concern. They’d obviously noticed how unhealthily baked he must’ve looked by now. Juza suddenly felt self-conscious, and leaned back, raking a sweaty hand through his hair, as if that would help his case.

(Y/N) looked over him, sympathetically, and extended the tall glass to him; “Here, drink this. In this kind of weather you really need to stay hydrated…” He, obedient, accepted it with lowered eyes, feeling a little guilty that he had made them worry over him. Only a grunt of thanks could escape his throat as he knocked it down a little too eagerly.

Juza swallowed, and tried again; “Thanks, (Y/N)...” Always more gruff than intended. It didn’t matter. Unlike everyone else, they had never been afraid. Certainly not now; as when they laughed, the sound was warm and seemed to fill the entire courtyard.

“You’re welcome. Mind if I sit?” They needed no invitation, of course, and hefted the basket higher up their shoulder to fit beside him. It was pleasantly comforting to feel their added weight settle on the bench.

Juza shifted to make space, only to find he’d been practically glued to the wooden surface after sitting in the same place for too long. He squinted up at the sky; it must have been a while now since he’d come out to the courtyard. He could’ve sworn the sun wasn’t so low before… When he looked back at (Y/N), who began to set out all the goodies they’d brought, all he could think was how radiant they looked now, as the sun’s golden rays of light shone on their hair, their eyes.

They cast him a glance, momentarily, and found he couldn’t quite meet their gaze, so he just stuffed a pastry into his mouth, wishing he could convey how much he loved them- their baking, without having to use words. He was too clumsy for that.

(Y/N), having finished up setting out the whole mini-picnic, sipped at their own drink with a hum of contentment. “...Hope they ain’t botherin’ you in there.” At this, they seemed to hesitate, glancing over their shoulder toward where they’d came. “They’re not, it’s just…” (Y/N) trailed off. Juza knew the feeling. It might have seemed peaceful on the outside, but faint whoops and hollers could still be heard from where they were. Summer troupe in particular could be pretty rowdy, especially hot on the heels of a performance.

“Anyway!” They turned back to him, eager for a subject change, “You having trouble with the script?” Juza blinked, nodding slowly. “Sorta.’” He admitted.

“Tsuzuru… Don’t get what he was goin’ for.” He took up the script again, as well as another pastry, and (Y/N) leaned closer to peer at it, eyebrows drawn. “Why not?”

He hesitated for a moment, but decided it would be something he’d be practicing with them watching anyway.

“Just read.” He said, and held it up to the light for a better view.

They cast him a curious glance, but after a moment of looking over the lines, seemed to digest his meaning, and sat back in equal confusion. “It’s, um… Not what I’d expect from an Autumn play?”

“Yeah. ‘S weird.”

He popped yet another pastry in his mouth, most of the contents of the basket having already disappeared in the same fashion. (Y/N) seemed lost in thought for the moment, seemingly having found a use for his script as a kind of folding-fan. He briefly wondered if they’d eat anything themselves. He’d try his best to leave some for them…

Suddenly, they shot up, a gleam in their eyes. “Juza!” They exclaimed. “You’ve probably memorised those lines by now, right?” Yeah, by now he should hope so...

He raised a brow.

(Y/N) blew out a puff of air. “You can use me as, like a… Practice dummy, I guess? Remember when we did that way back when? Gives you something to focus on.” They explained, hopefully, sounding almost out of breath. He did, but… Juza stiffened, aware of exactly what that would entail this time around.

“...Are you okay with that?” Although he asked this more to himself than anything.

“Of course! I’m the one suggesting it, aren’t I?” They moved to the centre of the courtyard, drink in hand. A light gust of wind picked up, carrying the faint aroma of Tsumugi’s well tended flowerbeds. He supposed, if it would help…

“...’Kay,” he nodded, and after picking off what he’d deemed as his share of the basket, stood up to position himself a fair distance in front of them.

His agreement pleased (Y/N), and they showed it, grinning widely from ear to ear. “Alright!” The cool, late-summer breeze was rising, stirring his finer hairs, but he could still himself blush, just a bit; like he always did when they smiled at him like that. Get it together.

After a moment of searching for their own lines, (Y/N) gave him the signal to begin, and he took a sharp intake of breath to recite:

“I’d follow you anywhere, Marcella. Just say the word. My feelings for you will never—“ Juza grimaced. It was all too strange in his voice. He couldn’t say all this sounding like he was about to violently clobber ‘Marcella’ over the head.

“I know, Roderich.” He blinked, surprised. Ad-libbing? “But this is a journey I must undertake alone. Pray, leave me be...” And from an entirely different scene too; but that was probably a mishap. He watched them painedly start away, even mimicking Tsuzuru’s stage directions. They were actually really getting into this, huh? Cute.

No, don’t think about that. Focus. He readied himself into character again, this time where they’d started: “No, you’re only making a mistake! The world beyond the Capital is dangerous; I’ve been there, I’ve seen it!” Juza took their cue, grasping at the air as Roderich would’ve done Marcella, desperately.

(Y/N), stomping their foot in faux indignation, cried out: “Enough! You are my underling, are you not? I order you to release me this instant!”

“I serve the King, and his orders overrule that of his Queen.” He said, firmly.

Marcella scoffed. “The King now lies an invalid for his reckless choices. The man is an incompetent fool, you know that as well as I!”

“Not in this, Marcella, I—“

(Y/N) broke character for a moment so he could recall the rest of it, and sipped again at their drink, to soothe their throat. His heartbeat thumped in his chest, and he realised how much fun practicing with them like this was. Doing anything with them was fun; being together made it so.

Another cooling breeze came in from the West, opposite a falling horizon. Now, he saw that the sun’s rays crawled like fingers across sunset-tinted moss and cement, grasping hold of the courtyard, its fading light soon to be extinguished. However much time he’d passed stewing away inside himself, much more had passed when he spent with (Y/N).

He liked being with them. He loved to be with them. He loved them, he—

“I love you.” And then it was said.

(Y/N) nearly spat out their drink, thumping at their chest to keep it down.

Shit.

They squinted back at their lines, as what he’d just blurted out sank in.

Shit.

“Um… I don’t think that’s…” (Y/N) flipped through his copy in bewilderment as he stood, eyes stuck to the garden tiles, dumb and paralysed. “...In the script?” Shit. “Actually, where was that other thing…?”

A sharp chord of dread struck through him, his throat drier than sandpaper. “...Juza, are you okay?” He knew their searching eyes fell next onto him, but he could not move an inch. Shit. Shit.

“...M’fine.” He grumbled, harsher than he meant it to be. Anyone else would have felt threatened. (Y/N) just frowned.

“You’re clearly not.” He felt them move steadily closer. “Juza, you know it’s okay if you made a mistake, right?”

Shit. He did, but he had to say it now. He had already said it.

“I—I mean, I wasn’t expecting it but… I’m sure it’s not so easy to remember all those lines, right?”

No hiding anymore.

“It wasn’t.” He looked straight ahead now, his mouth practically moving of its own accord. “A mistake, I mean.” He took a sharp intake of breath. “Or part of the script, I—…”

“...Said it ‘cos I meant it.”

(Y/N) froze in place, as if that was all he’d needed to say. “Wait— you meant it— I…” He didn’t know why they were so surprised. If he hadn’t fallen for them by now he would’ve been an idiot.

“So—… So that wasn’t part of the—…”

“Yeah.”

A moment of silence fell between them.

“...I’m sorry. Ya’ don’t have to say anything.”

He turned away. Now he’d gone out and said it, Juza knew the best thing he could do now was leave. Forget it ever happened.

He wouldn’t forget the way (Y/N) had closed the distance between them, throwing their arms firmly around his neck to halt his withdrawal.

He could feel the warmth of their flushed cheeks and the fluttering of their eyelashes. It was something that really shouldn’t have happened, but their lips felt real against his. They tasted sweet.

His heartbeat pulsed in his throat as they drew back, still close enough to exchange breathless sighs.

“I—...” Juza felt his face burn red. What had just happened?

“Um— me too.” (Y/N) said quietly. They looked like he felt, their earlier boldness tapering off into a meek . “...Kinda for a while now.”

Their grip slackened, but he counteracted with an almost involuntary hold of his own. They leaned into him.

“...You’re...Sure?” He said quietly, almost afraid they’d disappear if he didn’t keep them close to him, physically.

“Yes.” They stated, a hard sureness to their voice. He felt his stomach tighten, subject to a thousand butterflies. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” With finality, and with newfound confidence leaned in to kiss (Y/N) again, locked in true embrace.

They stayed like that for a long time.

—

Requested by @nervwrecked, I hope it’s soft enough for you! If I’m being honest, Juza (and love scenes in general...) is kinda hard for me to write? Yikes

Thanks for the ask! •v•

[eltanin-malfoy]

THE QUIET

based on the song by Troye Sivan

pairing : draco/veryintroverted(quiet)!y/n (gender neutral :))

word count : 7.7k (i genuinely have never written anything as long as this)

warning(s) : abuse/self-harm/torture/trauma/depression/ptsd mention, fluff, angst, slight smut

requested : nope! (i am going to have a request from a while ago up soon so watch out!)

a/n : lots of pan-top! draco vibes. also based somewhat on this song by our boy tom. i conceptualised this quite a while back after sorta getting my own heart broke, so it’s kinda.. um.. sad. screw men! lol. not to mention, this is my 1st attempt at writing in 2nd person, so i hope it isn’t total crap.

taglist : @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword @socontagiousimagines

Silence is something Draco used to hate. With every fibre of his being. 

When he was seven and sitting at the dining table, picking through his greens with his fork, his mother not letting him get up till he was done, everything was quiet. Forcibly so. His father thought that his chatting only got in the way of him finishing his spinach.

He’d overheard his parents talking about him when he’d sneaked out of his room late one night, to get his toy broomstick out of his father’s study after he’d confiscated it. (“You can’t be mucking about outside all day, Draco.”) He’d hidden behind his father’s desk, fingers wrapped tightly around the wood of the broomstick, while his parents had walked in, Lucius’ voice practically booming.

“Draco’s taken after me quite a bit. You’re right.”

“He definitely has.. Like everybody says, his fa-”

“No, not just that.. His behaviour. Just what I used to do.” “You haven’t told me about that.”

“He’s smart, isn’t he? He can babble on about anything and everything at dinner and you gush over him, and he realises it.” “Are you just pointing tha-”

“No, dear. I mean, he realises it. He hates eating his greens, you know that. He tips them into his pocket while you fawn over him when he speaks.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I glared at him when I noticed it myself and put a stop to it this evening.”

“Wow.. he’s only seven and-” “He’s smart. At least we know he’ll be a Slytherin.”

Draco’s eyebrows had raised considerably since this conversation had started. He poked his head out the side of the drawers lining the side of the desk and couldn’t miss the smile lining his mother’s lips.

“At least we know he’ll be a Slytherin. I’ll just have to keep him quiet, I suppose.” She agreed, giggling as his father picked out a novel from the bookcase by the door. “So, this is the Waffling novel you so worship? Doesn’t look like much.” She took it from him and checked out the cover, turning towards the door. “Narcissa.. “ His father’s voice muttered off in a slow drawl as the two exited the room. 

Draco clutched the broom closer to his chest and felt his heart racing, a smirk soon forming on his face as he realised he’d gotten away with what he so desired. He slowly crept out from his hiding place, carrying the broomstick with both hands now. He waddled over to the door, conscious of his movements as he tried his best not to make a single sound. 

Tiptoeing on his tiny toes, he managed to get out of the study. The weight of his parents words suddenly hit him. For the first time in his life, he’d understood… his parents did in fact, notice the things he did. Little mischiefs here and there to somehow cajole an extra sweet or two from his mother. Their line of sight didn’t extend simply to his bad posture or hyperactivity. 

Not only that, they’d figured out exactly how to combat his actions. Drat! It was such a clever idea.. how did he manage to see through it? Or, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as slick as he would like to admit. Either way, he’d seemed to have gotten his broom out just fine, so maybe they weren’t that aware of everything he did. Right?

Wrong. It wasn’t long after he’d gone up the staircase towards his bedroom that he felt a hand press flat onto the top of his head. He flinched at first and then looked up, squinting slightly. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” His father’s voice came out in a whisper, while his features still seemed high strung, even in the dark. Draco simply stared up at him silently and handed over his broom. “Now, you’re not getting this back. Not for another month.” 

Draco pursed his lips and trudged silently up to his room. “And I’m not going to keep it where you found it either. You won’t be able to search for it yourself.” Draco felt the slightest bit of rage pulsing through his temple but kept his gaze on the floor, knowing even a cruel glance back at his father would only earn him an even longer punishment. He felt the need to retort and felt his lips moving before he could stop them. 

“I’ll find it, alright. Like you could hide it from me.” 

Draco felt his father jabbing the tip of his broomstick into the back of his hip and winced, quickly reaching back to grip at where his father had poked him, where there was sure to be a purply red bruise the next day. It wasn’t even like he’d never been put in his place much as a child, but this one time.. just.. 

“Silence is golden, Draco.”

His hip wasn’t the only thing that was bruised that night. His lovely, large ego hurt too.

And since then, for some stubborn reason, Draco knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it being silent. Not when he knew he wasn’t alone. Not around anyone else. Being silent only meant submission. Giving into something he didn’t want to be. 

Submission was weakness. His father had told him that himself. Giving up wasn’t something Malfoys did, and submission was practically the same thing. But apparently, the same didn’t hold for however his father wanted him to behave around him. Even then, Draco knew submitting to another’s will only meant the loss of his own intent. Submission meant vulnerability, and being silent, listening to what someone else wanted to say rather than his own will, meant he was giving himself up instead of getting what he wanted for himself. 

And so, he began to treat it as practically his own responsibility to always keep conversations going. Sure, he’d want his peace and quiet now and then (his friends’ constant bumbling around did grow annoying after a point), but he felt that the only way he could truly enjoy silence was in absolute solitude. Pursuing his own interests, reading a book or listening to a song..

If anyone was nearby, he couldn’t really stop himself from saying something to them, whether it be rude or not. He always had a word to put in. He found that while what he said didn’t always reflect what he truly felt, it made people recognise him. Know who he was. Even if it was for the wrong reasons, he found that he liked it. Popularity (or even notoriety) felt good on him. Or at least it felt great for his ego.

Being heard meant being in charge, at least in his perspective. He realised that facing situations head on, that confrontation was the best strategy for him. Even if it didn’t always end up in the best way for him, he never had many regrets. Most of the time.

Even at Hogwarts, his confrontational manner had earned him some sort of following, at least in his own house. Sure, it was also the same manner that had made Potter his rival, but hey, if Potter didn’t know what a great offer he’d just declined, it wasn’t his fault. He could go hang out with Weasley as much as he liked, it wasn’t like it was Draco who really even wanted to be friends with him. Like, at all. He was just doing what he thought he should be doing, dutifully. After all, if he, the Malfoy heir, didn’t attempt to befriend The Boy Who Lived, would he even be a true Malfoy? 

But what truly validated him, more than anything else, was knowing that.. people were interested in him. Not that they treated as some sort of queer phenomenon, but that they.. romantically liked him. Sure, it did sound plenty pathetic, feeling great about himself thanks to someone else fancying him, it shouldn’t matter as much to him, should it? But then again, he loved attention. Especially that sort of attention.

And there was Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott and Padma Patil and Wayne Hopkins and.. well.. there was a fair share of people Draco definitely wouldn’t mind a love note from. But even then, so far only one of them seemed to actually feel the same way about him. And after spending enough time around her, it was clear she felt even more intensely about their relationship than he did. And so, he ended it, because while he did love getting fawned over, even he had his limits. His type wasn’t.. people who were clingy, so to say. 

The one main similarity he noticed between all those that he developed some sort of attraction for was that they were all outgoing. Not necessarily assertive, some of them even came off as unpleasant at times, but they seemed at least interested in getting their word across, some way or the other.

Of course, there are always, always exceptions to rules. Draco couldn’t even understand why he felt the way he did about you. It certainly wasn’t immediate, as far as he could tell. It was incredibly gradual. For sure. He wasn’t impulsive. Not at all.

He didn’t even really see you at first, per se. You were apparently in the same year but managed to avoid his glance for the entirety of your first four years. It was only really in Draco’s fifth year that he even noticed your existence, frankly.

The very first time was during the later hours of the day, after dinner one evening in September. He’d realised his first OWL practice essay for Transfiguration (homework McGonagall had assigned in the second week of school, Merlin) wasn’t up to the mark. He’d scanned through Pansy’s when she’d left her materials in the common room while she headed to the washroom and was not pleased with her seemingly improving essay writing skills. He certainly wasn’t going to let her do better than him. Not when he knew a victory like that would go straight to her head and make her stop basically kissing the ground beneath his feet, even though they’d been apart for quite a while now. 

He’d gone off to the library by himself in an attempt to rework it. Roping in another student to do it for him would have definitely done the job as well, but for some reason, a churning feeling in his gut told him this was something he needed to deal with himself. Maybe there was something special about Vanishing spells..? Maybe this was the year he’d impress everyone and get straight O’s for each of his assignments. And of course, his actual OWL’s, O’s on all of those too. Maybe he’d even do better than that mudbl-

And suddenly, the usually-very-regal-in-his-gait Draco Malfoy fell to the floor, face first. He felt an uncomfortable flaring up on his nose and grimaced. His book bag fell to his side, and he heard his ink bottle crack open.

He got back onto his feet as quickly as he could and picked up his bag, narrowing his grey eyes as he watched a dark stain forming on the side of it. Merlin. His father had only bought it for him that summer. Shit. He quickly looked to see what had caused him to fall on his face, frowning terribly. But he definitely wasn’t expecting what he saw. He was figuring some overexcited Gryffindor first year had bumped into him and pushed him over but.. no..

It was you. You. Someone close to his own age, looking up at him with nervous, nervous eyes, anxiously darting all over his figure and his bag. “I’m sorry.” You managed out, reaching into the pocket on the side of your robes. You did seem familiar. He recognised you somewhat. Sort of, at least. You couldn’t possibly be trying to get on his nerves on purpose. Not with the finicky way you were picking through your coin purse. 

“I”m sorry. I.. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Well, you should have.”

“R-right.” You paused and stared up at his face, avoiding his piercing gaze. “How much d-”

“You don’t need to pay for this. Just leave.” Draco uttered before he could even process his own thoughts.

“But I do.”

“No, i-it’s fine. I can handle it. Don't need you.” Why was he being generous? With this stranger?

“Your parchment..? And your b-books? They must be ruined too.”

“I know how to deal with them.”

“Oh.. oh. If you-you say so. I’m sorry. I can-”

“It’s alright. You don't need to bother.” 

You offered him an awkward sort of smile and nodded before turning to leave. Draco blinked slowly and took a deep breath, holding the bag up a bit higher. He reached for his wand and did what little he could to deal with the mess. It was almost hopeless to begin with. And he couldn’t exactly understand why he was suddenly all jittery. Why his stomach suddenly felt like it was full of butterflies.

It really was hopeless. To begin with.

You were so not his type! Sure, there were no real physical aspects to tie into ‘his type’, but goddamn it! He now realised you’d been in his year all this while and he hadn’t thought of you once. Not once. You’d stay huddled up within your tiny group of friends most of the time. You’d shy out of uttering a word in class to anyone but those sitting right next to you, and the couple of times he’d heard your voice was when a teacher directly questioned you. Oh, dear god. He shouldn’t even care. If he actually had forced someone else to polish his essay for him, this problem would never even have manifested in the first place. He found himself wasting time, so much time, just pondering over you. Wondering over dumb, idiotic things. Time he could’ve spent studying for his OWL’s, practicing Quidditch, trying to butter up Umbridge… he was staring out the window by his bed, looking at the Black Lake, thinking about the color of your eyes.   

Even during lessons, he’d find himself staring at you while you remained mostly unaware. Mostly, since at random moments you would peer back at him in fear. Why were you so goddamn afraid of him? What had he even done for you to think of him as such? Sure, he was intimidating, but he’d been nice to you. Right?

And before he knew it, he was pulling you to the side of the hallway after a particularly tricky Charms practical when he thought you seemed relatively.. alone. You looked up at him, again nervous, nibbling at your lip.

“D-do you want me to pay up now?”

“What? No.” Draco didn’t even understand why his heart was hammering out of his chest.

“Are you going to take me up to Umbridge?”

“No!” You were far from intimidating. Adorably rattled, if he were to be honest.

“Then? C-could I go?” 

Oh god, what happened to his normal headstrong sort of preference in people? You and Draco were seriously total opposites. 

But then again, opposites do attract, as a wise man once said (or at least Draco thought so).

“No. I.. was.. um.. we have a Hogsmeade weekend next week.” 

“Yes..?”

“And I wanted to know if.. if you wanted to go with me.”

“W-”

“Just.. nothing more than that. We can just go there. As friends.”

“I don’t kn-”

“Please?”

“I.. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Alright.” 

The shaky way in which he was gripping your wrist suddenly came to his attention and he drew his hand back. “L-let me know.” He muttered, watching as you slowly turned and walked away. 

It was truly abnormal for him to be acting so.. unhinged. On edge, even. Really. This was all so pathetic. He was all worked up simply due to a crush. So very pathetic. 

He spent the rest of the day walking around idly between classes, with Crabbe and Goyle following after him. They’d caught on to some extent, it seemed. And it deeply annoyed Draco that he wasn’t the one initiating a conversation for once. His nerves were much too on fire for him to even consider saying a word.

Unfortunately, Pansy noticed him being uncharacteristically calm as well. And what was even more unfortunate was that the Head Boy and Girl had made it such that the two Slytherin fifth year prefects had to do their rounds of the dungeons together that very night. Jesus. Christ.

Not only was his gut still seconds from turning in on itself, but he also had to face a girl who was as nosy as she definitely didn’t need to be. 

“So… is everything alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Pott-”

“Nothing to do with him.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s got your tongue?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Is there-”

“It’s nothing.” He responded somewhat harshly, hoping to force her silent.

But alas! Pansy wasn’t the sort to relent. She managed to nag and tug at his strings long and hard enough for him to actually snap at her. Thankfully then, she decided to stop sticking her nose into where it didn’t belong and fell silent herself. Oh, thank god. He didn’t want to have to give her the silent treatment himself, goodness knows how much his head would have hurt after that.

Even after his rounds were complete and all his work for the following day was complete, Draco found his stomach swirling with anxiety. It had been hours, hours, since he’d spoken to you. How long could it take for someone to come to a decision to something as simple as what he’d posed to you? Not to mention, there were an infinite number of ways for you to contact him. He had a lot of friends (all of whom definitely weren’t that intimidating and for the most part could easily be manipulated) who could pass on messages to him. 

What did you quiet types even think of yourself? That you could keep everyone waiting and hope that they all just chalk it up to you being too goddamn demure? Annoying. You weren’t allowed to make his heart flutter by a simple glance. And with the way all your past encounters had gone, it seemed as if you weren’t going to give him much more than that. Gosh.

He was sitting by himself on his bed, legs crossed while he tried to somehow focus on his DADA textbook. Slinkhard could make even Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation sound plaintive. No matter how much he pretended to enjoy Umbridge’s presence, he had no idea how he was going to act like this textbook was actually usable. 

As he found himself reading over the first few lines of the chapter for the seventh time, Nott burst into the dormitory holding up.. something. A piece of folded up parchment, perhaps. 

“Y/L/N handed this to me. Just now. By the dungeons.”

“Thanks.” Draco took it from him, his hand trembling in excitement. Finally, finally, finally!

But then he paused. Nott must have read the message already. He wasn’t actually purehearted enough to simply hand over a message as asked. He ran his thumb over the parchment. 

“Have you.. looked at it?”

“What? No. It’s private.”

“Don’t give me that.. you have, haven’t you?”

Draco suddenly wished he wasn’t in his silky pyjamas so he could use his prefect badge as a threat. What could you have possibly offered him for him to do this for you? He watched as his cheeks slowly turned crimson.

“No. Haven’t. Couldn’t. It… couldn’t open it.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, nodding. Huh. He attempted to unfold it himself and found that it was in fact impossible. Theo was still staring at him, and Draco found that for once, he wasn’t enjoying the attention much. He sneered at him enough to get his message across and walked back to his bed, drawing up the hangings so he could continue with his efforts without any prying eyes around.

Physical efforts proved to be worthless and he found himself extremely confused. Could you have sent him a message just to tide him over for a bit? Give him some sort of hope but actually mean to just annoy him. Maybe you were more annoying than he’d given you credit for. 

But then again, he had yet to put any sort of wizarding skill to the test. He brought his wand out from under his pillow and tapped the note.. and somehow.. it opened up! He honestly shouldn’t have been as astonished as he was, sealant charms weren’t new to him. 

Draco,

I accept your offer. Let’s meet in the courtyard at ten o’clock on that Saturday morning. 

See you,

Y/N.

And that was all it said. And for some reason, Draco couldn’t stop smiling. 

You’d accepted his offer! Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! He wanted to jump around and sing and dance and just tell everybody. But maybe it would do him better just to go to sleep. It was quite late.. and well… he was tired. The unusual bout of anxiety he’d faced through the day had only made him weary.

Within the next few days, most everyone he knew, at least in his year, seemed to have gotten wind of him having received a secret message from Y/L/N, courtesy of Nott, of course. Gods, he should really have Crabbe and Goyle just let loose on him. Then maybe he’d learned his own place. Never mind, his face was still much too appealing to even imagining disfiguring as such. Maybe some other time. 

Pansy didn’t hesitate to ask him, even tease him about it. He’d obviously offered no comment. It was obvious that her and her band of girls had already gossiped quite a bit about it, and he could only hope you weren’t being disturbed. 

Surprisingly, you bothered giving Draco an actual smile a couple days later. A few times, in fact. It made him feel a lot giddier than he would have cared to admit. 

Your actual ‘meeting’ with Draco turned out to be a lot more.. pleasant than he’d originally anticipated. While it was true that you weren’t one to talk much, you were a real pleasure to have around. You certainly weren’t the type to talk his ear off, and he found that he enjoyed that, for once. 

Going to the Three Broomsticks hadn’t resulted in a prolonged awkward silence, as Draco had been expecting, but more of a.. blushy exchange of smiles. Sweet ones. It was totally new to him, what with always being surrounded by his Slytherin cronies meaning hours and hours of pointless banter. It wasn’t absolutely silent either. There were the greetings, exchanges of pleasantries and everything along those lines. Not much more, since, you know, you were.. shy. And it was adorable. Perhaps coyness wasn’t as annoying as he thought.

You’d even held his hand for a bit on the way back, and he’d loved it. (Obviously, he’d never tell a soul that.) 

As the browned autumn leaves fell to the ground and left the trees bare, whatever it was between the two of you blossomed into something more. Exchanging letters later into the night (+hiding outside of the dungeons to even receive them) even stolen kisses when Draco knew you wouldn’t expect them (causing you to blush, which he so adored. Which was.. top secret, as well), became more commonplace. He grew accustomed to the frigid breeze that would blow around the courtyard onto his hands, he passed his own thick gloves to you while you walked, of course.

For once in his life, Draco understood that silence didn’t always have to mean subservience. Silence was tranquility. Silence was a symbol for.. intimacy. Sometimes the times when the two of you exchanged no words were the most meaningful of all. Sometimes holding each other close was all it took to calm him down, even after the wildest of days.

Feeling vulnerable didn’t have to mean you were shooting yourself in the foot. Draco now learnt what trust truly meant. Perhaps distance wasn’t the ideal, in actuality. Perhaps being superior wasn’t what he always needed to chase. Perhaps it was simply compatibility.   

It felt nice to have you beside him. Or at least.. following nearby. All of his own friends had caught on to what was going on quite easily, and thankfully, Draco had gotten it across to them that there would be real hell to pay for teasing either of the two of you about it. He knew there had to be gossip. Hell, he could imagine some of it himself. But he knew how to pretend he didn’t care. Pansy’s jealousy had only grown, but Draco couldn’t find it in him to give it much thought.

One of his favourite instances was the one time he managed to sneak the two of you out to the Black Lake. It had taken some convincing and quite a lot of sneaking out here and then, but thankfully, Draco wasn’t one to shy away from using his prefect badge to further himself. He got out of his nightly rounds with Pansy and forced Macmillan to take them up instead. You didn’t like that very much but.. hey, Draco wanted to spend time with his significant other, doing.. important things.

Losing it (his.. virginity, shhh) was something he’d anticipated for much of his adolescent life. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t desired it, very very badly at that. (He was a teenager, wasn’t he? If he wasn’t allowed to be hormonal, who was?) The Black Lake was isolated in the dark of night, and a few Lumos Maxima’s did enough to offer some sort of romantic lighting. Setting out a makeshift mattress was hard enough, but he was ultimately just satisfied with the fact that you’d even agreed to it in the first place.  

A lot of hand holding, quiet compliments, uncontrollable blushing and petting later, he’d managed to fit himself inside you. The slight tears in your eyes had made him feel like stopping it all right there, but you’d assured him it was all okay with a slight squeeze to his hand. Locking eyes with you had made him want to just… give in right then. He’d have thought the silence would have been awkward (and maybe it was, a tiny bit), but it felt ethereal to just be there.. to feel infatuated. To make love. 

The only thing that had really bothered Draco was that your silence seemed to continue into then. Light gasps were all he could seem to coax out of your mouth, even at the tugging of tongue with teeth. He couldn’t tell if he was doing something wrong, or if it was just you. He held you close to his chest long after, grey eyes trailing over you with some degree of perplexity. 

It had been very cold outside and you’d practically snuggled into him while you walked back, leaning back onto him while he tried to fit you into his coat. You couldn’t seem to get close enough to him, it seemed. He wanted to just carry you around wherever he went. Keep you on his lap and cuddle you. 

And that was when he realised he loved you. And his lips felt oddly loose and he leaned down to whisper it into your ear. 

And you said it back.

If only..

If only good things didn’t come to an end. 

The Inquisitorial Squad was a beginning. A new start for the spring. But an end to his own free time. What he didn’t take seriously at first turned into an ordeal he was forced to take charge of. Responsibility, the word just didn’t roll off his tongue as easy. 

Sure, he was allowed to take his liberty with practically every single decision he had to make. He didn’t have to give any kind of mercy to the people he took points from, and he didn’t plan on it. But it only seemed to force cracks into the foundation of your relationship. 

The silence was slowly beginning to fade. 

You weren’t enjoying the antics he’d begun to pull. Sure, his teasing was something that annoyed you to begin with, but now that bullying was backed by an official contract.. even watching Draco do his ‘prefectural duty’ and put the students in their place seemed to leave a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“Draco.. I.. I just.. I don’t like it.”

“I have to do what I have to do.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t have to go around.. Being so awful.”

“I didn’t ask for you to approve of it.”

“Draco.”

“What?” He took a deep breath and looked up from the book in front of him to see you looking back at him, face more stern than usual. “Take me seriously.”

“I-.. I don’t see why this should matter. I’m not..”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s horrid, you know that.”

“This doesn’t.. “ He huffed. “I’m not doing anything to you. This has nothing to do with you. Keep out of it.”

You got up all of a sudden, making him raise an eyebrow. You hurriedly started putting everything away, silent again.

“W-what? What is it now?”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be sporting a black eye if you didn’t go around on such a high horse all the time. I care about you, Draco. I’m only saying this because I do.”

You left soon after, leaving Draco in your wake, unsure of how to proceed. Your words only seemed to grow harsh when Draco was at his weakest. It wasn’t his fault Potter and the Weasleys were so goddamn sensitive, he thought. 

As spring melted into summer, everything only seemed to grow colder. 

His OWL’s were just as challenging as he’d anticipated them being but he hoped he hadn’t done too badly. The time he’d previously spent studying was filled with him trying to look for where Potter’s secret youth corps was hiding. 

The Dark Lord was coming back to his full powers, Draco had known. But what Draco hadn’t expected was his own father being thrown into Azkaban after losing a battle to Potter’s preposterous student group (Dumbledore’s Army, really? The nerve of people!), of all people. The universe was truly bent on humiliating him. He could only feel rage. Red, burning hot. 

You tried to comfort him, somehow. Surely, you had to be scared of him. He was the son of a full blown Death Eater.. of a prisoner of Azkaban, how couldn’t you feel afraid? Everyone else must have been. He’d seen the stares the younger children had given him, and he’d given them a taste of what was boiling deep within. His tongue had grown quicker, less patient thanks to all of this. He’d begun to crave the redemption of his family name above all else. Enough to try and seek revenge on the Hogwarts Express. (and fail.)

It was only a few weeks into summer when he’d been told that the Dark Lord himself wanted to include him in his ranks, even offer him a mission. One just for him. A special, secret task he felt Draco was up to. And how could he say no? 

His mission was difficult, extraordinarily difficult. Getting rid of one of the most powerful wizards of all time was certainly much more than he could handle along with everything else going on in his life. His turbulent relationship with you, with whom he was still only.. sporadically exchanging letters, was not what he wanted anymore, it seemed. If you got to know about his goal, you’d only try to encourage him not to pursue it, and he couldn’t have any distractions, not when he was bearing his family’s status on his shoulders. 

And so he wrote you one final letter. A short one, just to inform you of his decision on the two of you. At this point, he could care less about your feelings. He was simply more focused on being proud of the mark he wore on his forearm, the snake and skull etched into his skin forever. Eternal glory was what he was hoping for, and romance suddenly seemed irrelevant. 

Y/N,

I have to end things between us. I’m sorry if this is very sudden. This is all just too much for me to handle, with father and everything, I find myself very stressed..

Good luck and I love you,

Draco.

And that was that. The end of an anomaly, of ten odd months of his life. He’d been happy for a while but it was time to move on and take life by the reins! His new mission was clearly something to be proud about and he knew it. But it was so simple to fall back into his old habits. Pansy…

She was far too eager to take your place. She was far too unconcerned about the mark on his arm. And he could care less for the consequences as she lay on his bed, kissing every part of him that was exposed to the cold air. Moving on was easier than dealing with his feelings, after all. If he moved fast enough, he wouldn’t have to think about you again. 

It was clear you had thought about him. Made it clear. You’d sent him letter upon letter after receiving his own, your brown Athene noctua had twittered all over the place, chasing after him for a response. But Draco hadn’t even opened your letters, he’d tossed them straight into his fireplace upon receiving them. 

Out of sight, out of mind. 

And for the most part, it worked. He wasn’t hung up. He wasn’t moody. He wasn’t crying. He was using up whatever energy he had in bed. Over and over and over until Pansy was exhausted or simply excused herself. He flaunted her a bit, spent time alone with her. Looked you in the eyes while he held her hand. He didn’t even try to hide it. And he hoped his shamelessness helped you move on too. He knew you weren’t going to approach him, and that simply egged him on. The public displays of affection continued and you only seemed to continue to blend into the background, as you always used to. It was all for the best, really.

Except it wasn’t. The mission wasn’t as simple as it had seemed at first. It wasn’t something he could just.. do. It took effort and it took courage. Something he’d realised he lacked, greatly. It was much too much responsibility. Yet again, he struggled with it. His sixteen year old shoulders weren’t strong enough to bear so much weight, or at least that’s what he told himself.

But inside, he knew. He knew it was his own cowardice which would thwart his plans to save his family’s name, which would bring dishonour to his family. He had to try his best. 

But he only seemed to fail. His plans didn’t seem to work for much. All that was working was the training Aunt Bella had given him. Compartmentalisation seemed to be the only thing keeping him going. If he gave in to his thoughts, he knew he wouldn’t be able to lift a finger.

And suddenly life began to move faster than he could think and he’d Imperiused Madam Rosmerta and Katie Bell was sent to St. Mungo’s and Ron Weasley had been poisoned and he was confiding his deepest thoughts to the ghost of a Mudblood. 

All his feelings began bubbling up to the surface and he couldn’t attempt to numb the pain, the guilt, the fear by just forcing them away. He was making mistakes left and right, and perhaps.. his first had been you. Maybe if he hadn’t ever met you. Things would have been simpler. He could’ve gotten straight to Pansy. And.. there would have been no complications. Nothing in between. No guilt deterring him from looking you in the eye and just telling you to sod off. 

Perhaps it had been true all along, that vulnerability was like holding your arm out on your own accord while it was permanently marked to show your allegiance. It was only regretful. For what reason would you bare your soul to someone? Why would you let down your guard? Was there anyone you could really even trust?

Draco didn’t know why. But inside, deep, deep inside him, he knew that there was still love for you in plenty. But he couldn’t acknowledge it. Not when he was so close.. 

And everything else after that point seemed to pass on in a vivid haze. It was like having an out-of-body experience, except the ‘experience’ wasn’t coming to an end. No matter how hard he tried. Scraping his nails along his skin drew blood, but nothing else. It seemed the pain had turned into something habitual. It was as if it lived inside him. 

He watched himself grow paler, have to buckle his belt as tightly as he possibly could, give up his life of luxury in favour of serving the Dark Lord, as if he was simply looking in on someone else’s life. 

His home was no longer his home. The Manor had turned into a place where turmoil and torture were everyday things. He could barely live with himself. His mother’s smile was all that kept him from knotting a rope around his neck and-

Well, it was that and… it was the memories. The few happy memories he had outside of the Manor. While now his childhood was tainted with what haunted his present, he remembered.. you.

The hours spent in silence, just being around each other. Giving each other smiles. Having no expectations of each other but to just.. give each other company. Cuddling. Kissing. This led his mind to a different path of thinking but he kept it at bay. He had enough of that from his time with Pansy, and he didn’t want to think about being with anyone but you. 

It was no mistake. It was fate. It was destiny. That one day at the library was everything. And even if his heart still ached, he was better with the memories than without them at all. 

He still loved you. But this damned war was in the middle of everything and the guilt was getting to him. 

Hogwarts had succumbed to the Dark Lord’s forces only after Draco had managed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. It was all him. He was the reason why so many first years would be filled with dread for years to come. He was the reason why so many people had to face so much more than they needed to. He wanted to end it all. Just. Get it over with. 

But he wasn’t brave enough to. 

Everything he set his mind to seemed out of reach. 

And so, he lost his wand. And his sense of self. He betrayed the Dark Lord. And he endured his punishment for it too. The Cruciatus curse was more painful to experience than it was to watch, he’d learned. Hours and hours of it would leave a bloody taste in your mouth. Even the ruddy scars he’d scratched into his own skin burned. His Dark Mark was sizzling as if on fire.

The “Battle of Hogwarts”, they’d called it. It sounded so much more epic than it really was. It was pain and it was pain and it was pain. Over and over and over. The sight of the dead made him want to empty his guts and pull his eyes out of their sockets. 

He couldn’t help but think about you. Where were you? Had you been evacuated? Or were you fighting too? He would have thought the former.. but the war drove people to extremes, he’d noticed. Bellatrix couldn’t have always been this bloodthirsty, surely. 

He hoped and prayed and just wished that you were safe. He wanted to find you. And that he would. Perhaps after all of this. Perhaps you’d forgive him. Perhaps everything else would fit into place and you could live together. Maybe you’d be able to help him rid his memories of this insane, inhumane conflict. 

But it wasn’t so.

It had been months since the war had ended. Since Potter’s side had triumphed and his had lost, if you could call it his. His family had managed to avoid going to Azkaban thanks to his mother’s courageous feat. His mother was braver than him in every which way, he understood that now. Perhaps if he hadn’t been such a goddamn coward, everything wouldn’t have been left in pieces. 

The only thing he was glad about was that your name hadn’t been listed in the casualties of the war. He’d searched for it from paper to paper and had been glad it was nowhere to be seen, for once.

He was still in and out of St. Mungo’s and the memories still haunted him. The dreams would never end. Sometimes he’d see it all happen again in a rush, sometimes he’d imagine it was his parents they were hurting. Sometimes it’d be you. They were much too real. Once he imagined it was him hurting you. He’d woken up and gotten into the tub in his bathroom, writhing and shaking, clammy with perspiration. He wouldn’t have gotten out of the water alive if his mother hadn’t noticed his bed was empty.  

And so he spent his days in bed, his body barely able to keep down what he took in, if at all. Their house elf practically resided by his bedside for a while, offering him glasses of water when he’d wake up in a cold sweat, nightmares as dark as always. 

He wanted to, no, needed to find you. Apologise. Even kneel in front of you until you forgave him. 

But he knew you never would. He’d hurt you and then gone on to aid in the murder of one of the most valuable headmasters of Hogwarts. He’d helped the Dark Lord harm all those that were supposedly beneath them. How could you even look him in the eye? You’d been afraid of him before you’d even spoken properly and.. he expected you to forgive him for essentially assisting in the taking over of the Wizarding World? It was impossible.

Draco found himself avoiding every sort of human contact. He’d stay in his room for hours on end with the door locked. The silence was everywhere, all around him. Swallowing him whole. 

He’d spent ages just fathoming what it might be like if he could summon the courage to contact you. Maybe you would understand. Maybe you would forgive him. Maybe it would all be okay.

But the chances of that happening were too low. And so he let the quiet envelope him instead. 

He was barely a shadow of himself. Of the person he thought you’d loved. He couldn’t tell you a single good thing about himself. He wished you would write to him instead. He wished there was some way he could retrieve those bloody letters you’d sent him all that while ago. But he could only be filled with regret.  

The silence that had once disgusted him, then comforted him was almost mocking him. The loneliness, the despair, every negative emotion was as if a part of it. He knew the only way out of it and although he knew it was practically pointless to even try, he knew he had to. 

Y/N,

I can’t take this any longer. I just can’t. I’m the most pathetic person on earth. I can’t live with myself anymore.

I love you. I still do. And I’m so deeply sorry. There is no way I can even attempt to justify what I did because it was just horrible. It was so terribly idiotic. You were right about all of it. I was such an arse. To everyone. You deserved so much better than me. You always have and you always will. 

But I need to see you. Please. I need to speak to you. Just give me that much. I’m barely holding on. Just write back to me. Please. I know I sound desperate.

I understand if you decide against seeing me ever again. I do. I deserve it. Just give me this much. Please.

With love,

Draco.

And so he sent it off to you, putting it in his owl’s beak while spilt ink still blotched his fingers. 

He could only hope that you would treat it better than he had treated your own letters. That you would even read it. Even two words of acknowledgement would be enough from you, really. He just needed to know that you had seen it. 

He sat in his room, waiting for his owl to return. And it did a few hours later, but it was empty handed.

He laid down in his bed, even the thought of going to sleep having left him entirely now. The tears came dripping down his cheeks before he even realised how hard it had hit him. 

He was alone. The one for him didn’t want him. He had been right all along. 

Thus he spent the night crying into his sheets. The memories of the war and from everything between you flooding his mind and driving him senseless. Was this really the end? The end of everything he’d hoped for? Everything that he’d imagined would never come to fruition. Should he just lose hope?

There was always the proposition from the Greengrass family to consider. Astoria seemed.. pretty, for sure. But.. he wanted you. You over everyone else.

He didn’t even realise when he blacked out. Memories of you plagued his mind, almost as if he was dying and he thought he very well was. Was all that had been happy in his life flashing before his eyes as he lost consciousness? He could practically feel the ground turning to air beneath his body, how he lost his grasp on everything and fell into the void. 

But then he woke up again. It was just a bloody dream. His consciousness was as it was. He should have expected as much. The healers had said shell shock was unpredictable. 

What truly surprised him was the unusual bird cry that had prompted him awake. The familiar yellow eyed, flat headed, brown feathered, white spotted creature that stood on his window pane. Gripping a folded note in its beak.

And that was when he began to hope.

[rhydium]

Info dumbo about the StarFinite story?

aright u asked for it anon GET READY [cracks knuckles] this is gonna be long so obligatory cut in 3, 2........

...1!

so the uh, the au! the story!! w/e yall wanna call it! full disclaimer, i only began working on this whole thing a while ago, but it's totally taken over my fukn brain. like, we're talking big hyperfixation hrs. am i cringe for being this invested in my own content? yes? cool i do not Care >:3€

i should also throw it out there real quick that i am kin w/ infinite, n this is actually one of my two canons (both of which are my own aus lmfao wow). i didn't go into it expecting it to be but sfsfsgdfs here we are ig!! for that reason it's got extra importance to me n this definitely contributes to the euphoria i get from it!! it's a lil odd writing ur own canon,,? but i kinda just go w/ the flow!

the au n, the story that i will start Eventually, revolves around infinite n starline (obvi) n it's honestly just ... the tl;dr is big healing momence n, what's this? uh oh sisters !!! they are falling in love 😳😳😳

uhhhh so infinite is an android, made by eggman. that's like, the most notable canon divergence here! super important context to have. i've got a whole big theory on the possibility of sega originally intending infinite to be an artificial being (which i explored in the works for my Other canon too), stemming from not only the scene in forces wherein infinite comments on sonic's "data", but a line of dialogue from tails in one of the last stages of the game where he Literally Says "so this is where eggman built infinite". that ... i mean. that contrasts w/ episode shadow pretty hard don't it?? would explain why that dlc was so rushed, n the comic too. ANYWAY adsfsfs um that's a seperate ramblepost. yeah!!!

they are also agender n use they/them (primarily) as well as he/him!! so i'll be refering to them w/ those pronouns!

after the war, infinite is taken in by the resistance n, instead of being dismantled, they're basically given a chance to rehabilitate themselves. it's agreed that they won't be reprogrammed, as despite the potential risks, it feels wrong to do so; like a violation of their free will, individuality n thinking. if infinite is to be a good person, it's not gonna be bc other ppl recreated their entire personality, it's gonna be bc it's what they themselves truly want. robot ethics idk man!! u can't tell me that sonic n co wouldn't offer this to infinite if they offered it to metal in IDW,,,, i am Standing By This!!!

it's, yknow, a bit rocky, at first. infinite has to really fight the urge to return to eggman (something they already tried once, before the resistance found them; they were cast out). it's a struggle against what they were built to do, against giving into unhealthy familiarity over facing a, while healthier, unfamiliarity. new faces, a new life, turning their back on their mission n creator, it's like, a lot.

they work for/with the sonic crew, rebuilding the world they tore down as deemed fitting justice, being closely monitored for a bit as a natural precaution. as it becomes apparent infinite truly no longer has any ambition to harm others (they don't have much ambition for anything, really), they're then granted more freedom, n start taking on more important missions!! it at least gives them something to do, keeps them occupied. they have issues with dissociation, unreality, whether they're truly a real person bc, well, android. feeling purposeless, n a lack of worth, especially. a need to prove themselves. heavy stuff. i'll kinda go into that a bit more in a sec. their work grounds them, if only temporarily.

n soooooo... IDW comic stuff happens. metal virus time. starline gets kicked out of the empire.

now, as the comics are ongoing, n as this is already an au, there's gonna be divergence, n i must admit i haven't planned out all that yet. there's a lot i have to consider!! infinite being w the resistance/restoration is a big game changer ... tho i Do believe that they were absent, likely on a far out mission during most of the chaos. eggman doesn't know abt them, nor does starline or anyone else other than the sonic crew; n some civilians that recognise them.

i'm not 100% sure of Exactly when it happens, but i think it's just after bad guys, that infinite is sent to locate n bring in starline. it doesn't prove too difficult. there's a whole, starline realising "oh fuck it's you???", some bickering n, the two don't hit it off right away. they're both kinda like. not mentally stable ddgddgdds,,,

so uh. starline ends up essentially going thru the same sorta shit as infinite. careful watch, rebuilding, all that jazz, making sure he can be trusted. he's like... very very lost, quite like infinite is. the world has kinda calmed down, in the meanwhile.

it's at this point i'm gonna go ahead n drop a bit of a ramble i subjected my friends to a while ago, to articulate the way i see the two, n their dynamic together!! i was considering making this it's own post a while ago!

analysing their characters a bit... let's look at starline. Like. so we have this, in bad guys, which SENT ME tbfh;

i feel like it's the moment that triggers starline onto the path he is rn canonically,,, he's clearly like. rly mad n bitter. the core of this?? he wants his work n his efforts to be acknowledged.

he's big angry. still kind of in denial at this stage. he has himself obsessed w/ the idea of making eggman see him as Worthy, that if he just tries hard enough, that'll happen. he's dependent on eggman's validation, n i mean, it's no surprise; he's followed him a Long Time by the sounds of it.

then in the recent issue, hold the fuck up, bc we got, This;

god. my god it's all comin together now homies. this???? this right here??? it is the CLASSIC "i have to do this to prove i'm strong n powerful n smart n worthy n should be respected please Give Me Acknowledgement" ..... n who else is Like That? can u see where im going w/ this?

i think most ppl are aware of infinite's character being extremely indicative of self worth/esteem issues n the need to prove themself, right?? the extreme adversity, repulsion, perhaps even fear toward the idea of being weak. the compulsion to prove otherwise, to show their strength, to become powerful, to conquer to make a point. their theme exudes this same energy as their behaviour in-game; an aggressive attitude, trying to assert themself, while if u rly listen...? the lyrics are actually really sad in places. it reeks of cover up, although composition wise, a v interesting thing to note is a lot of the more telling lyrics are prominent while some of the affirming ones are in the background. indicative of a desire to have their true feelings be heard but caught in a vicious loop?

okay okay that's yet Another different analysis. AHEM.

not to get deep on main (oh who the hell am i kidding that's the point of this entire thing) but i think starline has issues w/ his worth in a similar way to infinite. they both seem to have this need to Prove something, whether it's to others or themselves, n get caught in a toxic spiral of doing worse n worse things for Some kind of validation or acknowledgement. they'll go to really big lengths chasing that, n both of them ultimately sought validation in the wrong place n wrong way.

this is a big part of my starfinite dynamic,, n so, what happens, as they get closer n open up??? we have them BOTH realising together that they don't have to do fuck all to prove anything to anyone. they don't need to do all this to show they're strong n smart n worth something, not to anyone else OR themselves. they're enough as they are. they bond over that shared feeling that they have to do xyz, to prove themselves, n that desire to just finally be acknowledged n appreciated n help each other thru it. to help each other understand that other ppls approval, or lack thereof, doesn't define them, their strength, intelligence, and worthiness.

i feel like they have an interesting parallel between them in like... the above could be taken as a general analysis, but to go more in depth on this au specifically?? ...

starline followed eggman for presumably a long time n it no doubt left him feeling a heavy and deep regret for all that time wasted n spent on an unhealthy path. infinite kinda teaches him that what matters is what he's doing Now n also reminds him that if none of it happened, starline wouldn't have learnt a lot of the serious skills he has. n while starline still feels bad, he also realises himself that, he likely never would have crossed infinite's path if none of it happened. for that reason, he wouldn't take it back.

infinite has only been recently made, on the other hand. they haven't really existed long, yet, but so far their experiences haven't been very positive n it can be .... discouraging. starline sorta, shows infinite their limited experiences w/ the world are a very tiny fraction of what's out there, n things can absolutely change, yes, including for the better; that's the essence of life, a neverending, constant flow of change.

it's a big tale of moving on n letting go, honestly; made easier as they're doing it together. n as they heal n grow, well... these bitches gay. sfshshdgds like, ig that's putting it p bluntly but!! they start to trust each other, understand each other more. as they get to truly know who the other is, they both start developing The Feelings. they're both pretty oblivious n the reveal is totally unknown so far!! yeah, i know, bummer. i suck. boo. adafsfsds however i can say there will be lots of content in the making!! if that soothes the soul! i've got of ideas i hope to bring to life.

ofc there's still a lot of more specific things i haven't covered here so! if y'all want more juice hmu w/ more focused questions but !! this is the overview n i hope it was a decent read now that gave some uhhh! Cool Insight! yea!!! ✌

[hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon]

Hear me out ----> SPN/Gravity Falls AU

A while back I saw a post(that i cannot find again, much to my chagrin) that listed a bunch of things Grunkle Stan did that have extreme Dean energy (this includes a brief but sincere attempt to make Jurassic Park real) and now a Gravity Falls AU lives in my head featuring:

Dean as Stan, who left home when he was twenty-one after a massive fight with his parents and Sam over Sam’s college shit and was a drifter for seven years until Sam called him and said he needed help in this podunk town in Oregon

Sam as Ford, who did manage to get out and go to college, met Kevin(as McGucket), and proceeded to do some real shady work with eldritch beings that resulted in both of them proceeding to get visions of some messed up shit, which causes Kevin to quit the project, leaving Sam to call Dean to Gravity Falls....we all know what happens next, Sam falls through an inter-dimensional portal and Dean is like “Okay I live here now, gotta figure out how to get Sam back”. Problem is, he only has one journal and needs two more. Where could they possibly be?

Flash-forward about twelve years; cult survivors, podcast hosts, and sorta-siblings Anna and Cas are driving up to Oregon to look at the weird shit present in Gravity Falls/The Mystery Shack and their shitty car breaks down. Cas staying to supervise the car while Anna goes and scopes out some potential material has nothing to do with the hot tourist trap guy who happens to be a mechanic, it doesn’t Anna.

Cue the pilot incident where Anna almost becomes Queen of the Gnomes and Cas gets to drive a golf cart and gnomes are defeated with leaf blowers. Car’s still broken and there is obviously a lot of weird shit going on here so why not hang out for the summer?

More below the cut, including recurring characters and some plot lines

Featuring such recurring characters as:

-Cassie Robinson my beloved, small town writer who desperately wants to break into the big time. Writes a combination of political and social critiques and the standard local stuff. We get introduced to her in the second episode, where Anna and Cas discover that she built the Gobblewonker in attempt for publicity so that someone will read the Gravity Falls Tooter(yes i just made up the name of the town’s newspaper) She regularly appears when Anna and Cas are researching local history or when a robot comes to threaten the Shack because Dean owes her money again.

-Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Patience as the resident teenage nuisances who nominally work at the Shack but actually mostly cause a lot of problems for the local-definitely gay-sheriffs. Claire and Cas are almost definitely related but they don’t know this at first, a minor plot point near the end of season one is figuring out that they are in fact related and the shocking realization that Claire likes Anna better. Anna is pretty good friends with all of them and Cas is minorly terrified, as you should be with teenage girls who live in the woods and absolutely know how to throw knives. Alex being a pyschic is a major plot point of season two especially after they become friends with Kevin and realize that hey, the shit of twelve years ago is happening again except it’s spreading to people who aren’t even involved this time.

-For that matter, collection of pyschics Missouri, Pamela, Alex, and Kevin who regularly find out weird pieces of information that sometimes become plot relevant and sometimes do not at all.

-Jody and Donna who also only do their job nominally because ACAB and mostly just maintain trails and shit around town cause they used to be park rangers but being sheriffs pays more and also they can make sure no one gets arrested for stupid shit. They regularly show up in like the weirdest places which Donna always defends as ‘we’re on a date’. No one questions this.

-Victor Henrikson as the investigating FBI agent in season two who is just like “i don’t know what the fuck is going on here but I KNOW it’s sketchy what is wrong with this town” because yes there is a witch here her name is Rowena and yeah she brews potions and stuff during the full moon no one sees anything wrong with this at all except Henrikson who was prepared to arrest a nutty drifter building a doomsday device but not prepared to deal with a whole town of people who absolutely believe in ghosts. His partner is Billie, who, like in the show, doesn’t think that some people should get to break rules whenever the fuck they want and is thus absolutely ready to rain justice down on this crazy white boy who think’s he’s gonna end the world. I kinda love her perspective cause it’s like, okay just because someone is the protagonist of the story doesn’t mean they’re special.

-Charlie and Ash as the only people in town who get wifi on a regular basis and thus show up when there’s some kind of need for tech or phone calls. Running gag that nothing works tech wise unless one of them is in the vicinity, with the exception of TVs. There is also absolutely the episode where they play a game of D&D in real life and Charlie has never been happier but Dean and Ash absolutely rig it because they suck.

-Bela Talbot in the role of Pacifica Northwest cause she’s a bitch and I LOVE HER SO MUCH.

-Kelly Kline my beloved, who’s the liason for the local Yakama tribe(cause I read a headcanon that she’s Native and that lives in my head rent free baby) who regularly reminds people that certain things are not for you to touch, there’s got to be respect there. This theme stays pretty constant throughout the show cause while after awhile Cas kinda forgets about the podcast he’s supposed to be co-hosting, Anna is still on top of things and trying to collect stories so she and Kelly butt heads a lot while Cas and Jack(who’s like eight) discuss frogs and bees in great detail.

-The Banes twins who comprise the other half of the witch activity in this town and who are very very nice but you do not want to fuck with them whatsoever. They show up extremely often and always give very strange but specific excuses to why they are certain places such as “checking the frequencies of the energy in this location” and that’s a running gag for awhile until it turns out in season 2 that they’ve been aware of the machine Dean’s rebuilding for awhile now and they’re working on protective measures to keep everyone safe no matter what comes out of it this time.

(Also, to compensate for the fact that Sam and Dean are not twins and thus someone would probably realize that there is a different dude living in the weird house in the woods, the Banes go a little Society of the Blind Eye and modified people’s memories. Because they want Dean to get the portal right and then shut it down permanently once things are the way they’re supposed to be again)

-Benny who is absolutely still a vampire, he runs the diner. The vampirism is a well-established fact and no one questions it, in fact Anna finds it hot.

Plot Lines of Season One Include:

-Bela Talbot whom I love attempting to buy/steal/destroy the Shack because she knows there’s some funky machinery down there and a lot of weird artifacts that she could make another fortune selling, yes she summons demons so that she can figure out where the deed to the place is, yes Anna gets to punch her in the face at one point because “These are my friends, you bitch!”

-Cas trying to decipher some of the stuff in Sam’s journals and figure out who the hell wrote them. This involves him thoroughly annoying basically everyone in town except Kelly because they are weird best friends who absolutely have long conversations about the difference between local mythologies and urban legends.

-Anna sincerely making friends for like the first time in her life and deeply enjoying being a kind of weird aunt to the local girl gang and the person who brings Rowena gossip and does have a weird love/hate relationship with Bela going. Like, I mentioned in the beginning that Anna and Cas are cult survivors, their social weirdness and then re-joining the world is absolutely discussed. Are they choosing some of the weirdest people ever to base their social knowledge on? Yes. They don’t care.

-Subplot of Dean genuinely trying to get Cas to go out with him but Cas does not realize this whatsoever so they’re just both awkward as fuck. Running gag of Dean walking up to Cas all smooth and trying to ask him out but Cas just...does not get slang and thinks Netflix and chill really does mean Netflix and chill. They end up watching Wynonna Earp.

[corpse--diem]

Bad Beat | Felix & Erin

Summary: “In poker, bad beat is a subjective term for a hand in which a player with what appear to be strong cards nevertheless loses.” Date: Present Featuring: @streetharmacist

Felix Doyle liked to stay in touch with people. He was a talker. Liked to know how people were doing, what they were up to, when they were going to pay him back. Whether it would be sooner rather than later. If they even could or not, which was always a particularly fun discussion. Lately, however, someone he had been in constant conversation with had upped and apparently died on him. Doing a thing like that often left a debt unsettled and when it came to Jack Nichols, it left a particularly large debt behind.

A large enough debt that it warranted a house call.

He didn’t make a habit of visiting funeral homes. Not unless he wanted to be warmed by that confirmation that, most certainly, an old enemy was dead. He approached the Nichols’ funeral home with a very different mindset. Just wanted to talk, that was all. He adjusted his violet tie before he slipped through the dark and found a window obscured entirely in the dark. It occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly checked the business hours. Then again, death hardly ever did that either, which he thought over as he slipped open a window at the back of the house with a straight-edged knife.

He stayed in the dark as he shut it behind him, more shadow than anything human shaped as he looked over the main room. Didn’t seem there was anyone near. Time as it existed stopped for the fae as soon as the sun stopped showing its face. He took a moment to knock on the inside of the door before he took a seat in the reception area. In the dark, he adjusted his glasses and waited.

For the first time in nearly a month, things were running normally. Smoothly, she’d even dare to say. Almost as if things hadn’t come to a grinding halt for far longer than she’d have liked, and for reasons she liked even less. But that was over. Thank fuck, that was over, and Erin could finally pour those frustrations out in the constant stream of death that ran through this town more consistently than the rivers that found Dark Score Lake.

A full day’s work was coming to an end. The rest of the staff had gone home for the night, and she was getting ready to close the books when she heard the knocking from her office. Loud knocking. Echoing like it was coming from inside–which was impossible, right? She’d locked the doors hours ago. Fucking awesome. Erin truly loved when people just showed up mysteriously in her home. Pulling out the knife Nic had left behind from her drawer, suddenly very grateful for his forgetfulness, she stashed it in the side pocket of her blazer, easing her way out into the reception area. 

“Hello?” She called out, stopping to a halt when her eyes landed on the man in sunglasses. Fuck. Was this a bossman thing? “Can I help you?” She inquired carefully, trying to stay friendly should this be an actual customer in need of her services.

Funny how the funeral home didn’t feel as sterile and emotionless as a hospital did. Guess something had to be warm after a body emptied itself. Other than the crematorium, of course. Felix tapped his fingers against his dark grey dress pants as he waited. It was a bit of an unorthodox house call to make, but considering the circumstances, it was the only type of call he wanted to make. Phone calls didn’t suffice for the important questions. Like where his money was.

He picked his head up as she entered the room and straightened himself up slightly. A businessman’s smile curved his mouth as he stood up. All business with no soft edges to be readily found.

“Hi,” he said, a smile around the words. He made no move to go towards her, instead pocketing his hands and putting his weight onto one foot as he crossed it behind him. “I’d say so, yeah. Erin Nichols, right? There’s this little problem I got, you could say. You see, there’s just a little something I’d like to get settled. Worked out, even! Its sorta outstayed its welcome and I wanted to check in. Keep a finger on the pulse and all.”

His head tilted slightly.

“It’s a matter of wanting to lay something to rest? You know how it is.”

Something was off about this guy. His smile was sharp and his answers circled slowly around her questions. It was already getting on her nerves. Whatever this guy wanted, everything in Erin’s bones told her this wasn’t an above board visit. Did her best to keep her smile friendly despite the confusion that touched her narrowed brows. “I do,” she nodded, making sure to remain a good few feet from him. “Better than most." Her eyes flickered past him to the door. The lock was still firmly in place and no visible signs of tampering from the advanced alarm system she’d spilled a considerable amount of money into installing. Seemed to mean fuck all these days, apparently. That knife was burned a warmer hole in her side pocket. 

"Well, I can’t tell you how sorry I am if you’re here about a recent loss,” she started, braving a few steps forward. “But it’s a little late and we’re closed to the public for the night.” Not entirely true but she gestured towards the door anyway. “How about you stop by tomorrow morning and we can talk then, Mr.–Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I had a feeling you might,” Felix said. “See, I had a really good feeling that you would. That’s why I wanted to come here. It’s looking like I made the right call.” She seemed a little nervous, maybe even a little on edge. He supposed that was fair. A stranger for all intents and purposes had broken into her business. It was fair to be alarmed. As fair as it was to check on investments long overdue, or so he thought. There were some things where fairness didn’t play too large a role.

“It’s not so much a recent loss,” he said as he adjusted his cufflinks. “More the kind that’s been accumulating and it takes a real toll when it gets to a certain point. The point that has brought me here to you.” When he smiled, it was a small and quick flash. “Mr. Doyle will work just fine for this, Ms. Nichols, and unfortunately, mornings don’t work for me and I don’t think this can wait. It’s a matter of debt that I’d like to discuss.”

Erin did her best to follow this man--Mr. Doyle--as he spoke. The longer she listened, the more she appreciated the way he weaved his words like he was telling a story. Careful consideration given to every syllable and each word placed with intent. He clearly thought highly of himself for this show he was putting on.

It's a matter of debt.

Those words set off ever alarm bell in her mind into a shrieking mess of panic. Her back stiffened and her body stilled, hoping he couldn’t see the noise building behind her eyes. Panic quickly gave way to anger. God, did these assholes ever let up? She was a funeral director for Christ’s sake. It was very simple and here he was, no doubt asking for me. How and why this continued to get more complicated was completely beyond her but she could feel that pit in her stomach burning hot and bright. Her eyes didn’t match the smile she forced back onto her face, arms crossing across her stomach. Fingers hovering inches from the knife there. 

“And what debt is that, Mr. Doyle?” She spat out, tilting her head slightly to the side, trying not to let the irritation in her tone completely swallow her own words. “If you’re here on behalf of your associate, you do know Dale’s already popped his cheery little head in here, right?

The fae laced his hands together. Something Felix had said elicited a quick reaction. It seemed that he might have hit a nerve. The right one too, at that. Good. That meant that he and Erin were likely on the same page. Any smile he had faded back into the dark from whence he had come. His face was still water.

“A rather large one, Ms. Nichols,” he intoned with a lifted brow. His thumb moved idly along the skin of the back of his hand. His posture shifted languidly, both feet flat on the ground. “Guns and drugs are pricey, sure, but other things cost a little more. Like blood. And bones. In the end, it all costs. It adds up. It spills over. Things get owed.”

He adjusted his glasses.

“It’s the one you just so happened to have inherited,” he continued. “I offered your dad a hand when he got himself in too deep and oddly enough, even with that particular clock stopped, the numbers are still ticking up. May he rest in peace.”

He shifted. Cocked his head.

“Dale? Can’t say I’m all too familiar with a Dale.”

Oh, this guy had a lot of nerve. It occurred to Erin suddenly--was this him? The him? The man who hid in the shadows and whose name she hadn’t earned the privilege of obtaining. Always demanding more. One thing after the other, a slow escalation. First it was organs, then supernatural parts, andj ust last week Dale had shown up with a body. Pointed to the cremation room and a Don’t make me spell this out for you, dear. And Erin just had to hop to it. No questions asked. And while she’d seen glimpses of what the man was capable of, fear wasn’t the emotion scratching at her insides. It was anger. Expanding, needling and poking uncomfortably and uncontrollably under her skin.

“I’m aware of how businesses operate, Mr. Doyle. Even unconventional ones like yours,” she seethed. The debt. The fucking debt that was going to haunt her until the day she was in one of these fucking caskets. Her eyes watched his body language, waiting for some tell that’d let her know it was time to run.  “Dale,” she repeated, barely hiding her annoyance now. “The mouth breather you send traipsing through my house and business every week for collection.”

She watched him, waiting for that recognition to flicker across his features. It never came. Dread and uncertainty fighting for attention above her anger. “...Who are you?”

“So I’ve been assured. The place is lovely and it would be a shame for it to go under.”

His own voice lacked any of the prior pep he had at the beginning. It wasn’t the first business conversation he had and he was confident that it wouldn’t be the last. That confidence coalesced with mild annoyance. Something didn’t add up. Felix didn’t like that. Not. One. Bit. His hands unwound and slipped into his pockets, his head cocked. Mouth breather. Did he look like he was interested in putting mouth breathers on his payroll? Not dang likely. He bristled at the accusation. There were plenty of things he could be rightly and unquestionably accused of but this--

Wait.

“Collection? I have barely collected a dollar, let alone a cent, in weeks. That’s why I’m here. Because the money hasn’t been showing but it sure as hell has been spiriting itself away, Ms. Nichols. Isn’t that odd for a dead man?” He said, head tilted downward as his brows raised. Then he shook his head, his smile one with teeth before he spoke. His words didn’t match the smile as he seethed. “Who the fuck is Dale?”

It was better before you got your grubby hands on it, Erin thought, her sense of self-preservation reeling her in. If this was her boss, something she was quickly beginning to doubt, mouthing off to a man who likely magicked his way in could be the last thing she did. “It is. We’re a damn pillar of the community,” she answered dryly and left it at that.

There was a noticeable shift in Mr. Doyle’s mannerisms. Now he seemed agitated and his confusion was on par with her own. “Dale, uh--” she faltered for a moment, shaking her head. She didn’t even know his last name. “Bald guy, Hawaiian shirts. Wears those chunky gold necklaces you just wanna--” she gestured towards her neck and pulled on an invisible chain. She’d fantasized about that one more than once. Exasperation had her stepping closer, shaking her head. “No--I’ve been paying you, or whoever, on time, in full, every week,” she insisted, her eyes frantically watching. Still waiting for something to dawn on him. 

That’s when she paused, planting her feet again, realizing she’d stepped closer to this stranger than she suddenly felt comfortable with. “You didn’t answer my question,” she stood firm on this, shaking her head. She’d had enough. “My dad was an idiot, so if I do owe you money? Fine. Add it to the pile. Why not, right? But you’re not going to just waltz into my business--my home--and start demanding things without a better explanation here.”

“With the pillar that it is, it makes you wonder what might happen without it. I’ve certainly wondered.”

The fae nodded some, a look of the very slightest appreciation on his face. He would be even more appreciative of such banter if he had his fates damned money. But he didn’t and his appreciation ran shallow like a nick from a razor. His patience ran just as thin too but he waited. Felix listened. As she explained what poor fashion choices this Dale figure made, he looked away in thought. A hand slipped out his pocket as he rubbed at his jaw. His teeth clicked together. Something was more than wrong.

It was fucked.

“Ah, but you haven’t,” he said. “I’ve been getting breadcrumbs in comparison to what I should be getting. I don’t know who the hell Dale is but I know a Big Carl and that sounds a lot like Big Carl. He’s the reason I’m here. He’s the one that’s supposed to get the stuff from you.” The last time he had seen Big Carl, the guy was in and out. Fast enough that Felix hardly got a word in as he looked at the sad amount of money that had been thrown on his desk. He had been bitter ever since. Felix had thought little of it at the time, about as much as he usually thought of Big Carl.

“On that, you and I agree. Your dad wasn’t so money smart, bit off a little more than he could chew, and I was there to help a guy out. That’s what I do. I help people. Communities, even.” He didn’t smile. “But not without the expectation that at the end of it all, I get what I’m owed. That’s how this works. Your dad knew that but he just kept chewing.”

Erin only entertained his thinly-veiled threat with an eye roll. There were bigger issues at hand. And, apparently, a Big Carl. The thought of there being another fashion-dense ogre of a man sliding through Mr. Doyle’s circles was as unlikely as it was nightmarish. “That’s Dale, then,” she confirmed. “Or Big Carl. Whatever.” That fuck. What had he done now? “I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t have any proof he’s actually doing anything, but something stinks, and it’s not coming from the basement. Think we can agree on that much.”

He knew her father. Of course he did. “My dad was an idiot,” she huffed in response. Even this guy knew it and more than likely took advantage of his desperation and stupidity. A new kind of worry built in her gut as she ran a hand over her mouth. “Whatever's going on, it’s not me and I swear I can prove it. Wait here--” she nodded, backing up slowly as she moved down the hall, still in his line of sight. She was sure he trusted her disappearing into a room alone right now as much as she trusted turning her back to him. After digging briefly through her desk, she was rushing back with a small, leather ledger.

“My dad must have gotten rid of or just didn’t write any of his transactions down. Which, I get. Paper trail. But it’s probably partly to blame for how fucked over he was at the end,” she said, giving pause. A flash of his blue eyes nestled between decayed flesh jumped in her mind’s eye. She cleared her throat to shake it off before handing it over. “All of our transactions. Every penny since I’ve taken over.” It was mostly in code, and probably easily decipherable to even the most basic cop. But a book of scribbles and numbers held less weight in comparison to the very solid, frozen evidence under their feet. If she was going to go down, it sure as shit wasn’t going to be because she couldn’t keep track of her books.

Felix’s stance shifted and he started to move. To pace. A habit of his when he started to consider the most efficient yet lesson-learning way to dismantle someone. Big Carl. Dale. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t a stranger to names upon names. He had taken more than a few himself. His lip curled slightly as he took in a slow breath. Stopped walking. The anger was laced with excitement. How long had it been since he had been two-timed? By a man that willingly wore Hawaiian shirts no less? He looked at Erin from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t mind the stink of a few dead bodies,” he finally said. He faced her and cocked his head to the side, his expression less than pleased. “But it appears that we can agree on that. For now.”

As she told him to wait, he nodded and set about to his idle pacing as he lined up his thoughts. When she returned, he took the offered ledger. Shifted his glasses up to look at it with bare eyes. What was written on the ledger in regards to lighting, to him, was the full amount of what he should be receiving. Reality differed. His smile grew, teeth visible.

“I’m getting maybe a tenth of this,” he said as he slid his glasses back on. “That’s funny. That’s really funny. This hasn’t happened to me for a very long time.” He had underestimated Big Carl. Maybe he had lost his touch. He was bubbling with fury. “I’m thoroughly entertained. What do you know about him?”

He believed her. He was pissed, and everything about that sharp smile still made Erin’s blood run cold, but it wasn’t for her. It was for the bald-headed asshole who got nothing but pure joy out of pissing her off on a weekly basis. Her fury towards Felix suddenly veered course, finding a new home. She wasn’t this guy’s biggest fan but common ground had settled her some.

“Not much,” she shook her head, crossing her arms. “I know he corresponds directly with our boss. He’s the money guy or something. Makes all the pick-ups throughout town, however that works. But he comes through the back, same time and day every week. Which is incredibly stupid, by the way. Told him that much too, but the guy’s got the most fragile ego I’ve ever seen. He was waving his gun in my face to shut me up like I’d just insulted his entire bloodline.” She ground her teeth together, trying to recall any other small details. Most of the time she did everything in her power not to think about Dale.

“Flashy. Braggy. Loves to show off whatever new watch or jacket he’s got that week like I give a shit.” Fuck. Seemed stupid obvious in hindsight. She just figured a guy in his position got paid a hell of a lot better than her. Rolled her eyes and scoffed bitterly. God, this guy was stupider then she gave him credit for. “Guess he doesn’t think of me as a threat.” That was putting it lightly.

Felix listened to every word she said carefully. White Crest wasn’t a particularly large town. Not in his eyes. Small towns had this capacity to suffocate that intrigued him. Constricted yet somehow more freeing than a city could be. It was charming the way a coral snake could be if one confused it for a milk snake.

“So he keeps to a schedule,” he remarked. That was good. Very good. Nothing made a job easier than a predictable idiot too puffed up to notice he was sinking. “I like that. We can most certainly work with that. And I am awfully curious about this boss of yours.” He huffed a dry laugh at the mention of an insulted bloodline. If Felix had his way, there wouldn’t be enough blood left in the man to determine which line went where. Now that their ire had changed from being directed towards each other to someone else, someone far more worthy, the tension in him unwound. Erin’s hatred for Dale was near tangible like heated iron. It wasn’t something he could wield. But she certainly could.

“It’s good that he doesn’t, you know.” His smile bordered on serpentine. “See you as one. People like that never realize it until that curtain comes down and they’re left to wonder where everyone went.” He looked at Erin for a long moment before he extended a hand. “I’m glad we’ve met, Ms. Nichols. Circumstances and all. Would you let me know the next time you see Dale?”

“I’m pretty curious myself,” Erin agreed, casting a quick look his way. “And I could say the same about you, Mr. Doyle.” Her immediate fears were calmed for now, she assumed. He wasn’t gunning for her throat and he seemed nearly as convinced as she was about the true culprit. Still--that borderline insidious smile of his knew he was handing her a gift. Dale was the kind of guy who couldn’t see past himself. Didn’t want to, didn’t care to. She wasn’t even a speck on his radar. Two birds, one bald, ugly stone. All she had to do was accept it.

Felix extend his hand towards her and she just watched, hesitant, like this was some sort of trick. Maybe they’d built trust on a more solid foundation. Maybe she’d never see this guy again. But considering it was the professional thing to do here, she shook his hand firmly in return. 

“I don’t think he’s going to bother you much anymore,” she said simply. The words came out so easily, so confidently, it surprised even herself. The implication was pretty clear. This one was hers and fuck it--she was taking it. Nerves buzzed beneath her skin and something in her felt just that much lighter, but stronger. Like she’d reclaimed a sliver of the power she’d lost the moment she found her father’s half-assed note and a bag of frozen hearts. “I’ll remind him I’m still around.”

There was still a debt to be paid, after all. 

[lucastheunlucky]

furniture hunt | simon&luke

Date: 6/3/20 Location: Antque Store With: Simon @inconvenientsimonstrocity​, & Luke

Summary: Luke invites Simon to help him find some new furniture for Yum!Pizzeria as he’s in the middle of a small remodel right now. The two try to be a little more open with each other. 

Lucas felt stuck between a rock and a hard place right now mentally and emotionally. This past week was seriously hell, and now the sun was-- no. He wasn’t going there. He was feeling really off ever since he saw Gotch again through the window, and he hadn’t told everyone about the fight either with Ariana needing the attention, and with Winn trying to explain himself. It was always easy for Luke to hide away though. It was terrifying seeing that shotgun pointed at Salva’s head. His nightmares have gotten pretty gory and the constant explosion of a gun going off always had him jumping awake. He’s not sleeping more than an hour or so a night. Well. He wasn’t going to keep whining. The wolves were a mess, but he didn’t think it was their fault. It felt reactory. If they found out about Salva through whomever, fine, he’d explain a little. But his mind was foggy, and it was difficult to push down the despair always swirling in his stomach. Distraction was really necessary for him. “Hey Simon,” he waved lightly, “be patient with me. I’m not sleeping again.” He admitted, “I’m so glad you’re helping me with this. I have a list. I need six bar height stools, five chairs, and maybe we can find some new hanging lights for the tables.”

The thoughts that churned through Simon’s head like foamy waves biting at a black-salted shore were conflicted. They felt diseased, almost, like they shouldn’t have been there and he tried to get rid of them but they clung to him like the parasite he felt under his skin. This was the first time he was going to meet Lucas since what the other members of… whatever they thought they were called a “pack meeting”; nothing was accomplished, nothing felt satisfying. He felt like he wasted his time at the crime scene and though it gave him a chance to fall in favour with the rest of the WCPD, nothing came of it. It was a distraction at best. Every single other member of the pack seemed to be reeling from a decision that happened this past week with the possible exception of Salva, who he just assumed was either too drunk, too busy or too bored to bother messaging him back. At least Lucas bothered to get back to Simon on his suggestion to do something. Eventually. See, it was THOSE thoughts that felt unnatural to him. Why was he thinking like that? Everyone was just very busy; he completely understood that - even Layla must’ve been terribly upset by what happened to Ariana and Celeste. And what Eldon had told him did him no favours,either; hiding as a means of survival, what the power of fear did to the hearts of mighty creatures, like… them. He pushed everything as far down as they allowed, threw the now-empty pill case of Allegra into a passing trash can and stepped into the antique store where he found Lucas almost as quickly as the nostalgic scent of time, paper and old wood found him. “Hey, Lucas,” He replied as he approached the younger man, voice still a little thick though at least he could breathe and probably wouldn’t be arrested by paroxysms. “And you’re all good; no judgement here. We can go as slowly as you’d like or feel comfortable with,” He added with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry you haven’t been sleeping, though… same phantoms?”

“Yeah, gotta love dreaming about getting buried alive or shot in the face,” Luke sighed, but his smile was there, ever honest in that he struggled a lot but didn’t let it ruin his life entirely. “It’s just what it is, I’ll be okay.” The words were stale on his tongue, and Lucas wasn’t sure how much more he could actually take before it felt better to go down different routes. “In good news, I’m mostly healed up. Tore it up a bit this week with shit, but the next moon will sew it up. Let’s go shopping. I hope we find some stuff. You should see the place all clean, and repaired up. I’m so glad I took the time to close it for a week. Insane what a difference it’s made. I really need to cook for you again, Simon.” As he said this he yawned, but he pushed into the aisles, the scents musky and pleasantly calm. “Have you met anyone new in town yet?” Seemed like Simon wasn’t the only one having problems sleeping, regardless of the reason. “I’m glad to hear you’ve been mostly healing up.” He wanted to ask about what happened but he told Lucas he wouldn’t ask about it anymore in their previous conversation so he kept the question to himself and instead moved on to what they were talking about - furniture. “Shopping, sounds good,” He gave a small nod of agreement and proceeded to follow Lucas, glancing off from side to side absently as he reran Lucas’ list through his mind. He wasn’t aware of the small smile that crept onto his pointed face when the younger wolf mentioned both cooking and if he’d met anyone ‘new’ in town. Three weeks ago, he would’ve said ‘Nora’ easily and that answer was still true but he would’ve been lying if he didn’t say Lydia, whether purposefully or not, was the first face to flicker through his mind. “I, uh… I’ve met some people, yeah.” He admitted with a small half-shrug. “And that pizza you made last time was really good. What do you like to cook the most?” He asked.

“I just like to cook for friends the most. Maybe, I’ll make us all some curry, that is always my favorite. My birthday is coming up on the 21st, I could make that if people want to come over. I’m sure Miles will take a chance to throw me a party since it’s been four or five birthdays without me around,” he said that easily to the ears, but his insides always hurt when he thought about it. Lucas grabbed a cart because he knew he’d probably find other things and didn’t want to hold them all. “I’m relieved you are finding some new people. This place isn’t big, but it’s got of decent people in it. I know I haven’t been around to hang out much.” Oh yeah, Lucas had been in hiding for some years now, assumed to be dead to the world except to one. Simon didn’t have to wonder too much about how hard that must’ve been for him, but he also took into account that Lucas probably had an actual life before the incident with Gotch; the way he talked about what it felt like to him to be a wolf, the freedom to be who you were before being forced into hiding… The only difference was that Simon was always a nobody. “Four or five years with your life drastically altered because of something you couldn’t control,” He opted to say casually as he picked up an old cracker tin, pretending to inspect it (though really, he just liked the texture of rough metal) to avoid making it seem like he was lecturing. “I’m sure he’s excited to throw one for you; it’ll be long overdue,” He placed the tin down, for some reason remembering that he placed the tin that seemed to whisk Lydia’s snapping at him away. “...Not to worry, I completely understand,” Simon replied, still avoiding looking at Lucas though he figured that that wasn’t unusual for him at this point. Now, though, it was because he felt the parasite frothing inside, wanting to snap and overwhelm and lash out like a spoiled child. “You’ve had some very important things happening, especially recently; majour changes, entire shifts in dynamic, et cetera. It’s vital to address and fix those problems before you can move forward.”

“Mhm, Gotch’s been messing with me since I was sixteen, Simon,” Lucas picked up a few glass bottles that had some interesting shapes and could look really good on the wall and put them in the cart. Thinking about Miles in any capacity was always a mixture of feelings. The undercurrent whispered that he wasn’t supposed to speak to him, demented words spoken in his ear as a whisper, ghosts of fingers tightly curled over his shoulders and telling him that it wouldn’t end well. And then the little brother in him, in the echoes of memories riding on Miles back, and trying to prank him (never ever successful he's such a punk!!) let Luke want to scream to the world how much he loved him and grab Miles and not let go. “He better,” Lucas laughed, and he was excited actually. “Well, when my family was here, I mean all of them. There were six of us. That pack life was way different then this mess, but then again, my dad was sorta in charge. I don’t think we can go back to that way of living. Feels, like I’m enlisted. I miss not caring so much.” Part of Simon felt guilty for getting the number wrong; did he know that? Was he told that? And yet, part of him, a dark, twisting part, couldn’t have cared less. No, he didn’t know that. No, he wasn’t told that. He popped his neck sharply, a relatively new habit of his and something he found gave him some form of emotional release. He remembered the people that did that in high school; controlling, aggressive. When he was younger, he thought it made them feel superior or like they were in charge… maybe they were just trying to keep the wolves inside of them from tearing them apart. He lightened his expression when he heard the genuine emotion in Lucas’ laugh, however, and he glanced down briefly, unclenching his hands that were white at the knuckles. “Big family,” He returned a small smile as they walked. One of his hands decided to go into his pocket for the time being while the other subconsciously reached up to scratch at his neck. “Yeah, I can imagine,” He scoffed lightly, his tone amiable. “The halcyon days of youth; there and then gone, waiting for you to pick up the pieces.” He pointed off to the side. “Those stools strike your fancy at all?”

Lucas glanced over, “yeah, my family is pretty big. Still, different sets of problems. Things can be easy in some areas, and only get more complicated in others having your biological family in your business all the time. If you can believe me, even if this all seems bleak, I have hope it will be okay-- I really want this all to work. I want to have a family again, even if it’s really hard and we fight, it’s okay.” Lucas knocked his head gently on Simon’s shoulder in passing, “you included.” He looked at the stools and got a little excited. “You have a good eye, holy shit. I love these. Let’s see if they can handle my heavy self.” He quickly sat down and did a few wobbles on it, and flipped them to see if they were all sturdy. “I like that they are all different. What do you think? Would you eat a slice of pizza and drink a beer on this?” “Different sets of problems,” Simon murmured, definitely more to himself than out loud as he ran that sentence through his head. As an only and friendless child, Simon often wondered how his life would’ve changed if he had even just one sibling; someone to fight with, to love on, to tease and fairly criticize but then to subsequently build up to be stronger than before. The closest he supposed he got was a ridiculously neurotic aunt who he assumed was responsible for half his allergies through the power of suggestion… yes, he COULD eat white bread and it was delicious. He was shaken out of that thought when he felt Lucas’ head against his shoulder. I have hope. I really want all this to work. That combination of words seemed to push the wolf further down, further than it had been all day and muzzled it, at least for a few moments. THAT was Simon and Lucas: hopeful. Despite all the bad things that happened to both of them, despite that neither of them made the life-altering choices that turned them into what they were today, Simon did believe Lucas when he said that because Simon wanted to believe that, too, desperately clinging to the threads that sometimes dangled in front of him and terrified to let them go once he had them. He’d let so many of the threads go already but he was still trying to sort through the ones he had left. Hope. “I’m going to be honest with you, Lucas,” He spoke up gently, a genuine smile on his face this time. “I’d eat a slice of pizza and drink a beer on the floor so long as I was enjoying it with someone else.” He admitted. “That being said, I’m no fashion or decor expert but I believe their asymmetry would lend themselves well to the aesthetic of your pizza place.” He added. “Plus, there ARE at least six of them and they all obviously belong together in their own strange ways…” He gave a light, somewhat playful shrug. “I say go for it. I can pay for them.”

“Same, I might even eat a piece that fell on the floor,” Lucas playfully said. “You know. When I played football we’d eat the craziest shit. I’d like that though. Sitting anywhere and munching yummy food.” He nodded, standing up from the stool.  “I like them. You want to treat me?” Lucas though in his thirties could be a little boy way too easily, and his eyes seemed to sparkle in excitement. “That’s really nice. Thanks. I’ll make sure one is just for you in the shop. Have it engraved. Hehe.” He waved down the sales clerk and let them mark it as sold while he hunted for some lights. “Have you considered getting back into forensics? I know you helped a lot with that piece for me. Do you miss that?” It didn’t surprise Simon that Lucas used to be a football player; indeed, it seemed like sports were a good outlet for the wolves to get their energy out. Sports were team-building, encouraged communication, gave people something to work towards. He could never play sports and he needed to stop thinking about and comparing everything to wolves; despite what Orobas said and how he was referred to, he wasn’t the same. “It’s really not that big a deal,” Simon replied but he knew finding positivity in small gestures when he heard it; no, bar stools at a pizza place was rather mundane but there were a handful of little things to be happy about. He didn’t speak again until Lucas asked him another question, shifting the topic and he remained quiet for a long moment. “I have, but…” Would Regan allow it after he (rather stupidly) got so bold to her? Did they even need someone else in the department? Surely they were busy given the death rate… normally he wouldn’t have minded the workload so much. “I might once I get Beans more used to the house,” He admitted quietly; the last thing he wanted to do was radically change up his schedule so soon after getting the… HIS dog. “And I didn’t help much; no one at that crime scene thought you did it, Lucas,” He felt the need to affirm. “And the guys we found evidence for either couldn’t be found or didn’t give up any information. It was a waste of time.”

“Beans--” Luke tried to flip through what he remembered, but sometimes details like that were hard for him to retain since his brain injury. “Is that the dog you posted about? You decided to keep it?” Lucas was surprised Simon felt like he didn’t do anything to contribute. Even with the police looking into it, Luke was glad someone with his interest was there. “You mattered then, it could have been so easy for Gotch to put one of his cops there to fuck it up, plant evidence, or not get the right stuff. I think if you and Sargant Rolands hadn’t been there-- it could have been different.” Lucas sighed. “I mean, I’m not fucking surprised, but it’s not a waste of time though. I had zero of this information for over a decade man. Rich kids will always get away with shit. They probably weren’t even from here. Someone did find one of those guys though, roughed him up, but they kept playing the same tune. They bought the hunt off Gotch.” “Sgt. Hills is a really good guy,” Simon said first, remembering how receptive he was of whatever information could be found and how they worked well together. He supposed that though they didn’t actually catch anyone, it WAS more information than they had… even if it was unsubstantial and ultimately worthless despite Lucas implying otherwise. He supposed Lucas DID have a point regarding planted evidence or corruption in the system… he hadn’t thought about those aspects.”You do bring up good points,” He replied mildly. “I just wish there was more that could’ve been done.” He said, resisting the urge to say ‘more *I* could’ve done’. “But hey; you were exonerated so I guess you gotta take the little victories,” He exhaled and continued to look around for the chairs, deciding to leave the lights to Lucas for now. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. Beans is the dog,” He decided to switch conversations to something lighter but he wasn’t sure if it was more for Lucas or him. “And I’m really thinking about keeping him; I’ve never owned a dog before so I never realised how… great they are.”

“Dude, I love dogs. Duke and I? God, Miles got him right when he moved into his cabin a few years ago and he had the BIGGEST ears and feet, and was all floppy. I’d let him train on me.  When I was healing up and on those crazy meds, Duke and I kept yelling at squirrels. It was nice, they are good companions, I’m glad you want to raise Beans.” Luke found dogs always very easy to get along with, maybe it was the scent or the natural energy he had, but he also knew that coming home to someone, even a pet, was the best feeling in the world. Lucas pointed out a few lights and decided on two that caught his attention when the woman came over to mark them sold. “You should have Duke and Beans meet. Miles could use the company. I’ve been worried about him. Do you have his number and stuff? He just got back in town.”

Good, talking about dogs seemed preferable. Simon smiled softly as Lucas opened up about some more of his personal life yet the thought of him having his own dog was bittersweet… Definitely more sweet than bitter, though; Beans' company was definitely worth the physical misery. However, his smile faltered ever-so-slightly when he recalled how Lucas described Duke as a pup; big ears and feet… That sounded like a big dog and that thought tensed him up slightly, instinctively. His hand started scratching his bite again, suddenly feeling a little spike of nervousness. "We talked briefly on the forum," He mentioned first. "I'll, uh… Yeah, it'll be good to meet up with them… I…" He cleared his throat. Spit it out. "I need to get over my fear of big dogs, anyway." Admitting those types of flaws of his were embarrassing but he didn't know why… Allergic to dogs, AFRAID of dogs, what a useless werewolf he was. "Miles seems like a good guy. You guys are good people."

“Oh? Duke is the bestest boy to help with that. He’s a search and rescue dog, very trained. He saves people, man. Knows how to calm people who are hurt down and never bites unless ordered to by Miles,” Luke took full advantage of Duke when he was healing up, not that he had a choice, Duke would come to him anyway cause the dog already knew he was in pain. “Miles is the best out of all of us. Probably the best in White Crest. He’s my hero, he’s really someone who puts others first. You can trust him with anything--” Luke easily rattled off, clearly the younger brother who idolized his older sibling without embarrassment. But as he was saying all that, he felt the faints presence swirl behind him. Reminding Luke of the horror attached to him causing so many issues for his mental health. “Did something happen that made you scared? Baby steps if you do, plus, it’s also okay to just be scared.” Simon had never met Miles save the one instance where they had their ‘pack meeting’ and there was with no uncertainty that Lucas was very proud to be the related to and the younger brother of Miles but if nothing else, Simon was in possession of the rare quality to be able to hear how people thought of someone and still be able to form his own opinions. He didn’t doubt that Miles was a good guy - he did Search and Rescue and from how Lucas talked about his own upbringing, something like a secretly-bad-older-brother would stick out like a sore thumb in the otherwise idyllic way Lucas recalled the memories of his past before all this shit with Gotch hit the fan. Lucas’ question pulled him out of his thoughts though and one of his nails unintentionally tore open his skin on his collar bone sharply as his hand clenched for a moment. “Yeah, it is…” He said quietly, lidding his eyes partially as he glanced off to look at a particularly ugly doll that stared back at him with unblinking glass eyes. “I got…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, feeling blood well up under his finger as it oozed from the scar tissue he opened. I got mauled by a werewolf. It ruined my life. That was one of the hardest combination of sentences he’d never said. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s okay to be scared in moderation.” He replied just as quietly. He remembered what Orobas said. “But it’s also important… to not let it control you.” He almost said that more to himself. “Baby steps.” He gave a small nod.

“Yup--” he emphasized the P with a pop, and nudged his shoulder with Simon’s, the scent of blood caught his nose instantly, but Luke could tell the duress was making Simon’s mind spin and body react. Luke knew deep seeded fear. He sat there while Gotch cut open his arm frozen in it. Luke, however, wasn’t ever a person who had to fix people, but he was someone who cared about them deeply. He tossed his bad arm over his shoulder, letting it hang comfortably, and pressed in close to his side on instinct. “We’ll get there, you know what I’ve been saying lately to myself?” Luke asked, and with his free hand releasing the cart he waved it in front of them. “Life is okay--” He snorted a little, smiling easily. “It’s not entirely good, but okay isn’t too bad either. At least we’re alive. At least we can have a future, even with fear of dogs or fear of one man. Ah, we are shopping for chairs and lights right now. Pre--tty domestic and, well. Okay right?” Lucas’ nudge and subsequent, instinctual intimacy somehow relaxed Simon considerably, though he obviously wasn’t expecting it to; was this because he was touch-starved? Was it a wolf thing? Either way, he heard his heartbeat that increased subconsciously start to slow down and he licked the blood off his finger while the other hand pressed his shirt into the small wound to stem the flow, watching Lucas wave his hand and listening to the words he was saying. Life is okay. It’s similar to what Lucas said earlier about having hope for the future. Don’t let fear control you. Believe it’s going to be okay. It IS okay. Baby steps. He inhaled, the scents of Lucas, his own blood, the wood and dust and an elderly woman’s perfume as it floated around the store. “Yeah,” He smiled again, gentle and genuine. “Life’s pretty okay. If anything, it should fear US,” He added, perhaps a little uncharacteristically but it was close to the full moon and Lucas had bolstered his own confidence just enough. “The future better be prepared for what we can bring to it.” The word ‘we’ struggled to form instead of him saying ‘you’ - strictly referring to the younger wolf - but he managed to get it right the first time, only feeling a little self-conscious about it.

“Exactly, heh,” Lucas was a person who had zero problems being close and hanging off people, not to the point of being annoying about it, but it was something he did instinctively. Even in school everyone always expected he’d be hanging on someone, and sometimes people even fought over him playing favorites. So Simon accepting it, and not flinching from it made him happy. Touch was important to werewolves, and closeness was an easy thing to give. Luke did find an awesome light and picked that up along with the stools, and a few weird looking chairs that were apparently bright gold thanks to the clerk who asked if it would fit with the look of the place. As they loaded it up in a truck, he felt relaxed. “So, thanks! This is awesome. Wanna come with me to drop it off? We can eat something too-- let’s just chill today? I need a chill day.” There was another exhale that came from Simon after they finished with their shopping, a sense of satisfaction from having found everything they needed that Lucas decided was preferable. While he still thought about how he sounded earlier and the negative thoughts that burned under him before that alongside the sensation that he still didn’t belong or have a sense of agency in relation to the other wolves, he had to think in the ‘now’ and right ‘now’, not being able to tell Lucas what he was truly afraid of aside, he felt… comfortable. The wolf that had been restrained and muzzled still thrashed around but it was deeper down and he could ignore it more willfully. “Yeah,” He replied in his same quiet tone, his natural tone; compliant, agreeable. Really, he felt like all the wolves could use a chill day. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He reaffirmed. A chill day. Sounded ideal.

[gothsic]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO. in his own head maybe

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. lol what fandom does jo have a fandom here???

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. ???

Are they underrated?  YES / NO. / IDK. jo thinks he’s underrated does that count??

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — Jo is the master of his own story so yeah. I’m following my own canon and whatever I come up with to a T ( unless some good suggestions in writer’s workshops or even here come up! ). He is the main character of my limited series pilot that I hope to write soon called The Insomnia Trap.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Jonathan has many sides to him. The child of mixed Latinx parents and the youngest of three kids, he has had a relatively normal life ( save for early childhood, when he killed his mother by “accident” - should’ve mentioned that! ) and his very long goth phase in middle/high school, but always deemed himself to be on the outskirts of society. Because he was aware from a young age that he was simultaneously unwanted and unplanned, Jonathan came out of his upbringing with the idea that he never should have existed. This planted in him a very nihilistic, misandrist, and generally flippant view of the world despite pursuing his dream to work in comics and cartoons. Though he was hungry for recognition and dreamed of a world not on Earth, he often found himself to be a ghost wandering the streets of town, looking in on the people having fun in their homes without understanding why they were happy. His insomnia developed when he in his teens, though he still had trouble sleeping as a child after seeing his mother’s mangled corpse at the bottom of the stairs - his doing, of course. Whether he lives with the guilt or not is up to you to decide; it’s my personal feeling that there is a part of him, the human part of him, that feels horrible about what he did. He feels monstrous for it, in fact. This is part of the reason why, if he gets extremely close to someone, he warns them that he’s not a good person; the shred of good left in him. But he also feels his “metamorphosis” into the nihilist that he is today was inevitable, given that he was never supposed to exist in the first place. It should be mentioned, of course, that this nasty cocktail of things has not only stressed his insomnia, but he eventually was pushed into going to a sleep clinic to get to the bottom of his problems once and for all. He only encountered an extremely traumatic lucid dream that forced him to confront his past head-on. He was unable to save his rotting humanity ( D., a small girl that looked like his character Deirdre ), and was eaten alive by The Other, a creature that looked like a younger version of himself and eventually absorbed him into itself. He awoke, now in what can only be described as a constant lucid dream in waking life. He encounters monsters and hallucinations from his dreamspace frequently, and will sometimes see D.’s forest crop up in his backyard. To this day, he still believes D. is alive and well - and, of course, that the object of his obsession, the one person who ever understood him in his point of view, Annie Kaye, is going to one day return to him as he’s always dreamed. Sadly, she could want nothing less to do with his sorry ass.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —   Around the time that The Insomnia Trap was simply going to be a screenplay, I workshopped it every few weeks in my senior Screenwriting class in undergraduate school. The overwhelming response I got was that Jonathan was abhorrent, creepy, and the question a lot of people had was why we were following him versus Adri, his ex girlfriend who was documenting his struggles with insomnia. My only answer to this is that is the point - you aren’t supposed to necessarily like him, I instead invite you to understand why he does the things he does. I’m asking you to do something you don’t like, something that makes you uncomfortable, maybe. I don’t believe entertainment in any capacity should be forced to be all about how “great” a person someone is. He’s a horrible person you can observe at a safe distance, and pick apart - a real puzzle who has his nasty qualities and his strangely good qualities mixed into one. I’m not asking you to forgive him, either. I’m asking you to see him for what he is and judge him for yourself. Jonathan is a gigantic mess of things - he’s deeply traumatized, but has chosen to live a life where he’s given in to his narcissism and self-importance, and he’s deeply hurt many people in his life - the most obvious being Annie, whom he feels he “deserves” after suffering so much in his life ( sure... ). He is in many ways a deeply unlikable character, and I wrote him keeping this in mind. That said, he has his better qualities, though they’re few and far between, that I think can keep him human in the eyes of the audience ( his love of animals, guilt towards his mother’s death, his intense self hatred, his genuine love for his nieces and nephews and for children in general, etc. ). Since he’s the protagonist of The Insomnia Trap, I can only hope that he is a complex and interesting enough character to follow for audiences if/when the limited series gets picked up!

What inspired you to rp your muse?  — Jonathan is based off of a very long personal experience I had, and I’ve always been fascinated by intense psychological horror. The two things came together, at first, when I was 12 and simply evolved from there. Originally, the project was going to be an animated flash movie that was divided into parts - but that of course never happened, I was too young and too impatient to ever do that. Over time, I ended up focusing Jonathan’s character, and he first appeared in high school - sophomore year, actually, in a different context. He’s been in development for a very long time, in other words, and I grew fascinated with a variety of different concepts over the years that got incorporated into his story ( doppelgangers, lucid dreaming, revenge, obsession, tragic protagonists, etc. )! He is one of the most intimate characters I’ve ever created, and I love him to death.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  Music is a big one, there are specific songs I want to get the rights to use in the project if it ever gets made, and that really helps keep me focused on this blog and develop Jonathan further. Also, threading with my fellow muns and seeing how Jo evolves over time. What’s he capable of? Can he change? Is he capable of change, or is he afraid of it? These are questions that are asked with each character he interacts with, and I sincerely live for it. Also, drawing helps me out a lot too - maybe you’ll see The Insomnia Trap in webcomic form soon... just a thought!

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / no idea honestly lmao

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / depends!

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES - I also draw them! / NO, I HATE DRABBLES.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES! / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO / sorta

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. / though i can handle critique, film school definitely hardens you to that!

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  I do. I’ve been explicitly told Jonathan is disgusting and totally unlikable by people to my face, and I have made leaps and strides to prevent my portrayal from going completely in the “this person is deplorable” category that was tempting to head towards. It’s easy to explore someone’s bad side rather than explore their good side, which I can forget about with him. That said, critique really does help me develop my writing further, and I desperately need it even if it can be hard to hear sometimes!

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  I love questions. If people ask me questions, I do my best to answer no matter what they may be. They can be challenging sometimes, but that’s what makes it so fun!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Sure, I’m happy to hear what people have to say. I may not agree with it, but hearing different perspectives is so important in my point of view.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  As well as I could. It can be frustrating, but everyone’s tastes are different, so I don’t really take it personally and move on. I’m really here to do what I want to do in the end, as the rest of us are, so I try to prioritize that over any negative feelings I might have.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  Again, I just let it be. I’m used to people not really understanding Jonathan or not caring for him while understanding him, and that’s fine! Everyone has their preferences for what they like in leading characters or just characters in general. He is a triggering character with very triggering themes, and I’m writing him from a very prolonged experience I had ( and it’s very cathartic ) so I can understand why people may not want to engage with him or with me. I’m perfectly fine with it and invite people to put themselves first, and I move on like I mentioned in the above question.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  Yes! Please go for it. I literally do not proof my replies before I post them half the time so feel free to let me know if I misuse words or put commas/colons/semicolons or whatever out of place.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   — I think so! I try to be open and inviting to everyone I speak to here, and always encourage people to come talk to me if they’d like to. No pressure though! Roleplay is for fun, and it shouldn’t be anxiety inducing or any kind of work - do things at your own pace here, that’s what I say ( though I’m trying to follow my own advice! ).

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by:  @forseenclade !!. thank you flower... luv Tagging: whomstever wants to !! feel free to tag me so i can see !!

[subjectsix]

Hitman 2 and 3 theories

OKAY so I’ve been reading about Hitman 2/3 theories and thinking on the ending of the Haven level a lot and decided to make a post about it because analyzing stuff is fun dkfjghdjkfhg

Spoilers for the end of Hitman 2/the Haven level below the cut! (y’all its so much I’m sorry KJLDFHGKJFHG its Hitman Lore And Meta Time)

FIRST lemme just say. Y’all I’m very aware I’m a big Lucas Grey fan dkjgfhkdjhg BUT I did my best to make sure that wasn’t getting into my analyzation too much, I like being as objective/unbiased as possible bc the Hitman storyline is wonderful (and if Lucas is the villain oooo Drama™)

anyway this is gonna be a long ramble so here’s the TL;DR

Big point: I don’t think we can accurately piece together any sort of an answer currently, and IO wants us to doubt everyone and everything for the “hook” into the next game, and they did a lovely job at it! Thank you IO <3

My three running theories with the info we have:

None of the main four are working with the constant, and he is manipulating them all to try and turn them on each other, making them doubt each other to cause dissension among them (see: him telling Diana about the hit on her parents, the concept that he’s making Lucas out to be a traitor) which could result in Lucas’ death (or not)

Lucas is being “held hostage” in a way by the constant-- Edwards has him by some threat or pressure point credible enough to make Lucas work for him

The least likely in my opinion due to evidence and Lucas’ character, but still possible maybe: Lucas made a deal with the constant somehow (when he would’ve found the time, I don’t know) because he’s got it in his head that he and 47 should be the providence leaders-- somewhere along the way he got so obsessed/focused on this all he got his view skewed and genuinely thinks he’s doing a good and helpful thing

So what prompted me was this specific comment on a hitman subreddit theory thread:

So to me, the idea that Lucas has been a traitor from the start doesn’t seem to add up. If you look at everything we've seen from IO about him, it shows that Lucas is on a path of vengeance-- suddenly allowing The Constant off the hook seems like a massive shift in character, especially considering the comic and what we've seen of Lucas and 47 as kids (more on this in a bit)

So the only leap you can make after that to blame Lucas is the second comment on that reddit response, but that seems like such a big cheesy sci-fi stretch to me. If you look at Lucas and 47 knowing they’re clones, you can clearly see the resemblance. They aren’t just brothers, they’re like. They’re near exactly the same in appearance (save for the fact that 47’s in much better shape and like. Bald DFHFDJHG). You could argue that Lucas had his face changed to appear to be a clone, but you have to consider that they both have the hand scars from the pact they made as children, the comic confirms Lucas/6’s existence, Lucas has a lot of Ort-Meyer knowledge others don’t have, and 47 is remembering Lucas

Any leap past that gets wackier, like...

- Maybe 47 has DOUBLE fake memories from his time in the institute and this has been planned from the beginning? Doesn’t seem satisfying nor IO’s style, plus it seems rather out of character for 47.

- Ether antidote somehow gave him fake memories? Also nah, seems just too out there/odd/improbable 

So from here, the only thing that I can personally add up and understand in the vein of Lucas being a traitor is the concept of Lucas maybe having a bent concept of like... morality? I can see him maybe getting a bit too over the edge, too bent and obsessed on Providence and taking them down, and somehow talking himself into thinking he and 47 need to be in control of Providence because they’re the only ones that can make things “right”. From what I’ve seen, he hasn’t exhibited behavior that tells me that in full, but that makes much more sense than him being A Complete Snake™ because if he was a traitor it would defo be in the “he fully thinks he’s doing the right and good thing for 47”

ANYWAY consider this evidence in game:

- Lucas being shown repeatedly to go to great lengths to avoid collateral damage/citizens getting hurt or killed (you can overhear this being talked about on Hawke’s Bay, Columbia (and from Lucas himself in Rico’s office), and I think Colorado, but I’m not sure. I’m sure there’s other locations as well).

- Lucas' genuine concern for Olivia to the point that he gives her her whole own security detail (seen on Colorado, thank u @olliemander for showing me that!!!), as well as the fact that he met her when she was 7 (can somebody say father figure), and she's the only person in the whole militia to have both seen him and know his real name, not even Sean Rose knows his name and those that have seen him have all been killed (Viktor, the Providence member in the cutscene after Sapienza) 

- His seemingly genuine reaction to realizing he killed Diana's parents (seen in the cutscene before Sgáil)

- His seemingly genuine concern over 47's wellbeing after the ether antidote (seen in the cutscene after Whittleton)

- His seemingly genuine reaction to/at the institute (the man is genuinely emotional over it all)

- The Constant's complete bafflement at Lucas' actions-- you can overhear this on Sgáil-- and I suppose you could argue that this is just fake so Edwards and Lucas can play the long con, but that seems unlikely to me

- also this is less of a piece of evidence but still interesting, Lucas’ man on the island that gets him the info on the poison chip and the Washington Sisters comes from a genuine NPC you can listen to, who calls Lucas to give him more info and tell him their debt from their old CICADA days is repaid and to just leave him alone now AKJDLFHGKJDFHG

I mean, yeah, it could all be things to mislead us, but I don’t think so-- his behavior lines up throughout the years of his life that we’ve been shown, and 47 isn’t one to blindly trust people.

This leaves the idea that Lucas has been working with Edwards from the start, but that too seems like a long stretch to me-- Lucas seems to hate what he and 47 had to go through (as seen in the comics and just his behavior we’ve seen), and he carries that weight (like he mentions in the cutscene before Sgáil, and in the Homecoming cutscene). He seems to really struggle with survivor’s guilt over his escape from the institute. Plus Lucas doing a double side switch seems a bit Much™ (but I totally could be wrong akdljfhgkjdgh)

Ultimately tho, here's the thing: I don’t think we can solve this puzzle yet, because IO wants us to wait for Hitman 3. What good is it if we bust it before the game comes out?

They did this with the end of the Sgáil mission-- it was a big ominous cliffhanger but then we just sorta scooted along (so they could keep building the story, it was well done IMO)

My most likely theory at the moment is the idea that Edwards is trying to turn 47, Lucas, Diana, and Olivia on each other because he realizes they’re a threat. Bc If I’m real, I currently don't think any of the core group are working with The Constant, which is terrifying, because it means the constant is way more powerful than we thought and way less helpless than we thought he was in his current position. (So that means the text/phone call/whatever Lucas got in the end cutscene was from Edwards posing as someone else like Olivia). Plus, if Diana gets into contact with 47, she’s going to tell him Edwards is gone. If for some reason 47 can’t contact her, he’s going to be suspicious and on high alert.

Edwards is a scheming, smart dude and I don’t doubt him being able to do that at all. He knows Diana and 47 are close and trust each other (“in his own special way, he cares about you”) and felt the need to mention to her that 47 and Lucas were behind her parents’ deaths-- that’s not just bonus information, he did it for a reason. This also puts his line of “Do you really want to do this to me?” to the Partners in reference to being under scrutiny and needing the poison chip under a SUPER terrifying and ominous light. What sort of power does this man wield?

I would personally love to see Lucas survive these games AKJHSFJGH but I can see the story leading to 47 have to make a call to shoot Lucas (thinking he’s a traitor), playing hard against the emotions of it all, especially with the reveal that this was all a set up by The Constant, making 47 go after him with a vengeance. (also not to be angsty™ but can you imagine Lucas and 47 talking after 47’s shot him? Oof ouchy my heart) 

Another possibility I can see is like my friend Synth suggested-- Lucas wanting to go in violently and take it all out on The Constant, while 47 holds him back for tactics sake 

In terms of Lucas and Edwards working together, sans them planning it from the start, there really would’ve been no time for Lucas to talk to The Constant between his capture and the departure for the bank. I also can’t currently make sense of many reasons why Lucas would side with him and not tell 47 or Olivia

My final idea that plays into the idea of Lucas as a traitor is the idea that, somehow, The Constant is holding Lucas hostage in a way? That if by chance they got to speak to each other, The Constant lorded some threat over Lucas that was serious enough to him to agree to help him (like a threat against 47 or Olivia, etc). I’m not sure though, but the idea is interesting to me :Oc

aNYWAY big ol’ rant over! Here’s some pics of Lucas’ voice actor in Alice and Wonderland enjoy fdjgkhdfkjghkjfh

[littlehollyleaf]

Name ten favourite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.) 

Then tag ten people

Tagged (ages ago, whoops!) by @castiel-saved-me-from-myself 

(I’m sorry, I got distracted!)

1.Supernatural. Castiel.

Obviously. I may be out of the fandom now, but I’ve never loved a character as much as Cas, and probably never will.

2. Good Omens. Aziraphale.

Thought I’d put both my darling angels at the top :) I suspect that without Zira there to pave the way Castiel may not even have existed, so I love him double - for himself and for Cas as well :p 

While really quite different when it comes to their personalities (just think how Zira would SHUDDER at Cas’ trenchcoat), they share a lot of character traits and tropes (mini-series!Zira anyway, maybe less so in the book, or less obviously anyway), so, no surprise that I should adore them both. I’ve also said before, and I stand by it, that Aziraphale is sort of a combination of my favourite aspects of both Cas and Dean in one, with Cas’ struggle with Heaven/god and trying to be a good angel and finding he loves humanity/earth more, plus Dean’s whole ‘performing Dean’ thing and repression of queer feelings he is scared to admit to (out loud) because he believes they are somehow ‘wrong.’ 

...just to give a little insight into my feelings about these two that was neither needed nor asked for...

4. Hellblazer. NBC Constantine. Legends of Tomorrow. John Constantine. 

Aaaand the other guy I love twice because Cas, and indeed spn in general, kinda owe their existence to him. Though in turn his fabulous live action portrayal by Matt Ryan probably owes its existence to spn and Castiel’s popularity. So... there’s a weird ouroboros situation happening with my favs here that makes my head spin whenever I think about it, but I love it - stories within stories built on stories feeding off stories, which connects to wider themes of story and storytelling being vital and intrinsic to life and stuff.

Anyway, despite his wardrobe, Johnny is NOTHING LIKE CAS. He is, in fact, a lot like Dean. But I like him more. Maybe because he’s British :p He has the whole ‘repressing his feelings’ things, a bit like Zira, but it’s not because he thinks they are wrong, it’s more of a coping mechanism to deal with the constant tragedy/trauma his life/lifestyle/fate causes him to suffer. But whatever the reason, I like my characters facing that struggle :) (actually the British element is probably way more significant to my enjoyment of him than I’ve been fully aware of... that’s probably why I loved Zira so fast as well... obviously they are both a completely different class of British, literally, but the fact they ARE British is INTRINSIC to both their characters, and I guess a little, vaguely patriotic part of me is excited by that... :p)

4. Gotham. Edward Nygma.

Since I’ve started giving explanations - I love Eddie because he’s also got the whole ‘emotionally repressed’ / out of touch with (his) emotions thing going on (as seen in Zira and Cas), but with the addition of various geeky / ‘tech guy’ character traits that I also love.

5. Doctor Who (Classic). Vislor Turlough.

I waxed poetic once about how I liked Gotham’s Edward Nygma because he reminded me a bit of Turlough. That was early on in my Gotham days though and given how Eddie developed I don’t see as many similarities now. Turlough shares some of Eddie’s ‘dark’ traits however - self-centered, often lacking in empathy for others and nonplussed (sometimes even happy) to see them get into trouble or hurt. But ultimately his attempts to be self-serving and cowardly end up thwarted by him developing feelings for specific individuals despite his best efforts, which is what I enjoy about him (and actually that’s a lot like Eddie still, huh... their endgame’s are opposing though ofc - while Eddie goes on to embrace being a villain, Turlough gives up on villainy and even becomes a bit of a hero, now and then). Plus, Turlough is the ONLY Companion (IIRC?) to have joined the Doctor specifically in order to MURDER him and... idk, I just think that’s cool :P

6. Doctor Who (New). Donna Noble.

(I’m trying not to double up on fandoms/shows so I can cover more, but New and Classic Who count as different things, kinda, right...?)

Donna doesn’t really fit any of the character traits I’ve talked about above, though I guess her low self-esteem is something that all my other favs share in various ways (though it’s not such an EXPLICIT aspect of their characters and story arcs as it was for Donna I’d say). What I first loved about her was that after YEARS of New companions (and other randoms) being literally in love with the Doctor, she had a strictly platonic relationship with him. Yeah, I think maybe the show was a bit heavy-handed about it, but even so it came as a huge breath of fresh air and frankly a RELIEF to me. Not that I’m opposed to the Doctor having romantic/sexual  relationships, it was just that... coming from a childhood love of the Classic series where that just... didn’t happen (save a fleeting kiss in the TV Movie - which I actually enjoyed fyi!), it just... idk, was starting to stretch my credulity that EVERYONE seemed to be falling for him maybe? Or at least for me it was growing tiresome. So the fact she didn’t have that element to her character/story was a plus. Then I just adore how loud and brash she is when calling anyone, including the Doctor, out on their shit (I envy her that maybe). Plus I like the way she isn’t... traditional TV pretty, you know? (ie. young and slim, like a lot of other companions).

...or maybe I just like redheads *shrug emoji* 

7. Spartacus. Naevia.

(she has two actresses okay? and they both deserve kudos!)

Truth is I love FUCKING EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW. Spartacus is like... my PERFECT SHOW. There isn’t a single moment, a single plotline, a single character that I don’t enjoy. I have never even CONSIDERED looking up or writing fic because the finished product is completely satisfying exactly as it is. God. But I wanted it represented in this list so I had to pick someone!

Considering the time period there couldn’t really BE a ‘geeky, emotionally repressed with low self-esteem’ character :p BUT nearly ALL of the characters have the whole ‘struggle to understand/discover who they are’ thing and the ‘who I am and want to be is counter to who I’ve been told I am / should be’ arc, on account of the main cast being rebelling slaves (though the other characters are equally complex and compelling and I love them too - Lucy Lawless in particular is incredible!). Anyone who’s seen me blog about the show before might have thought I’d pick either Agron or Nasir as my favs, since I do like to squee over their romance. But whenever I think about the show it’s usually Naevia who I remember first, because her character arc/development just BLEW ME AWAY. She went from someone I’d kinda dismissed at first as a typical het love interest to a WARRIOR GODDESS and you SEE all the key moments of that growth, you FEEL it, it makes ALL THE SENSE. And her romance with Crixus, which again I was initially a bit dismissive of as a typical, sudden, weak het romance, grows into, imo, one of the deepest, most developed, most believable love stories in the show. So yeah. Naevia. Amazing.

8. Due South. Ray Vecchio. 

(he’s the guy not the dog - gifs were limited! ...also the dog is actually a wolf, it’s a whole thing... that doesn’t need exploring at this juncture)

Ray was my first TV crush :P He had a bit of a sidekick vibe to him I guess, which I like (lead characters tend not to interest me as much). He wasn’t ‘geeky’ exactly, but he def had the ‘trying to look/act cooler than I am’ thing going on... also an obsessive attachment to his vintage car... meanwhile his partner Benny was the stoic, ‘British, stiff upper lip, keep emotions in check’ one who was always trying to live up to the ideal persona dictated by his people/employers, in this case the Royal Canadian Mounted Police... HUH, so... it’s actually SUPER WEIRD that I ended up loving Cas and Zira over Dean and Crowley when it seems pretty clear suddenly that my first big fictional fav was CLEARLY the Dean-Crowley to Benny’s Cas-Zira......?? Ray was FUNNY in a way Dean and Crowley aren’t though, I think? He def filled a ‘comic relief’ slot on the regular and I liked that a lot (it also made his serious, angsty moments EXTRA serious and angsty, and extra angst is something I always love!)

9. The Librarians. Eve Baird.

Remember this little show? It was... is... sorta ridiculous. Not amazing. Based on some... very cheap, very OBVIOUS Indiana Jones rip-off films, that were also ridiculous and... not... great (the third one is the best, with an awesome performance by Stana Katic aka Kate Beckett as a vampire, but I digress). But... idek, I am EXTREMELY FOND of the series for some reason :p

There are a WHOLE BUNCH of characters that fit my ‘type’ more than Eve tbh... in fact... probably every.single.other.main.cast.member (save perhaps Jenkins?) shares the traits above that typically make a character my fav. But... EVE! I just... think she’s neat! ...maybe it’s BECAUSE all the others are main/lead characters that makes me gravitate towards her? In a cast where ‘geeky, socially awkward, struggles with emotions’ is the norm, Eve being the no-nonsense, socially competent, badass soldier type therefore becomes different and thus more interesting to me? Also, much like with Donna, I appreciate that she’s an older woman who gets to have a full character and plot of her own. There’s also something about her romance with Flynn that... makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

10. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Jonathan Levinson.

(tumblr gif search failed me so I had to grab from elsewhere...)

Listen. Look. Okay. Buffy is pretty old school these days so, for anyone not in the know, as a character, originally, Jonathan... he wasn’t even a side character, he wasn’t even REOCCURRING, he was barely a background character. For several episodes he didn’t have a name and it wasn’t until several seasons after he became ‘Jonathan’ that he actually got a surname. Danny Strong was just an actor who happened to be occasionally on-hand when the script called for a random to have a line, until eventually that happened often enough for Joss to think ‘hey, you know what, let’s make this guy an actual part of the show...’ 

He got a couple of episodes focused on him in S03 and S04 respectively, but didn’t become a regular until S06 (and wasn’t in S05 AT ALL). Other than that he had a HANDFUL of ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moments here and there, not even full scenes for the most part, usually lasting no longer than the above gif.

I tell you all this so that when I say childhood me (well... somewhere between 12 and 14 years anyway) was OBSESSED with this character in the show, and I mean O B S E S S E D (to the point of spending hours painstakingly making VHS recordings purely of the episodes he was in), you understand how UTTERLY BIZARRE that was. Because this obsession pre-dated S06. Was, in fact, in full swing during the airing of his S04 episode - which was, like, a fucking DREAM COME TRUE for freakily obsessed me fyi, because the whole episode was constructed with him as the LEAD CHARACTER, because he’d performed a spell to make him super awesome. They even changed the title sequence to read ‘Jonathan’ instead of Buffy! And while other fans were no doubt just lol-ing at the random I was bouncing about on my sofa all ‘MY TIME HAS COME!’ and fucking SWOONING over seeing MY CHARACTER suddenly in the spotlight and getting to do crazy fun OOC shit like this -

Then when S06 rolled around and HE WAS A LEGIT REGULAR, omg, I was in HEAVEN! First TV boxset I ever bought that - Buffy S06 :P

So... yeah. A bit of a fav. Geeky. Outcast. Slowly grows more morally grey, what with that spell I mentioned and also the fact he was teamed with the ANTAGONISTS in S06. I guess you could say he was the beginning of a lot of my fav fictional character traits/tropes (though looking back - I think his ‘villainous’ teammates in S06, Andrew and Warren, are more my ‘type’ these days, and I did end up loving Andrew especially a whole damn lot, but at the time I’d been a Jonathan fangirl for so.fucking.long. there was just no chance anyone else in the show was ever gonna come close to my heart!)

THE END.

Sorry not sorry for the tmi. I got a bit too into this one.

Actually sorry I have so few women on the list :( Internalised misogyny/sexism is a real thing and I spent a lot of my life being... somewhat unfairly dismissive of female characters or at least prioritising male ones over them. I’m working on it.

Ten people is SO.MANY. to tag. But I might as well do this right this time, since I’ve come so far. But if you’d rather not play, no worries! <3

@enchantersnight @momecat @bold-sartorial-statement @vampirebillionaire @edwardnashtons @miss-olivia-cellophane @knightinpinkunderwear @supes9 @leaper182 @hamburgergod

Honourable mentions (because I CAN):

Gotham. Lucius Fox.

Gotham. Fish Mooney.

Gotham. Tabitha Galavan.

Doctor Who. The Doctor.

Doctor Who. The Master/Missy.

Supernatural. Hannah.

Supernatural. Naomi.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Andrew Wells.

[christophe-delorne]

Gregstophe Week: Day 5

TIRED // BED // FAKE DATING AU

TITLE: The Unclaimed

WARNINGS: Swearing, nudity, sex mention.

AGE: Adults. (Early 20s )

NOTES: This is sorta' a prequel thing for my Good Dog story. But you don't need to have read it to enjoy this little snippet thing.

Smoke lazily trailed up from the smoldering tip of a cigarette, clasped between two calloused fingers. Christophe needed a smoke as realization of where he was dawned on him, this was the one place he didn't want to wake up in. His free hand scrubbed at his face, feeling the rasp of a five o clock shadow against his palm, hinting that he needed to shave. Right now, he didn't feel like standing up off the edge of the bed he sat on, despite every instinct within him telling him that he should leave right then before he had to face the reality of what happened. He couldn't leave, he was out on a mission so there was no real possible escape.

He raised his cigarette up to his lips, taking a heavy pull from it as he looked over his shoulder, spying the reason behind his ever growing migraine. Gregory was still sound asleep, arms curled around Christophe's pillow, a good enough replacement to keep the man asleep. Christophe was not quite ready to face Gregory just yet. He needed time to think and process out how he'd came to be in Gregory's bed, stark naked and aching all over. The best thing he could do was start from the beginning and try to follow down the path of increasingly bad decisions. Doing that though, required his head to stop pounding.

He needed to get up, one problem at a time, think too much about everything would only make his headache worse. Clenching his jaws, he pushed himself up to his feet, the move alone had his entire body screaming in protest. He should have expected this much, though he thought he was used to such brutality done to his body, this was something completely different than being in a fist fight with a group of thugs. Then again Gregory was always creative when he wanted to hurt someone, mentally or physically. Though it was unusual for him to get his hands dirty, leaving most of that to Christophe. When it came to the Frenchman, it seemed Gregory couldn't keep his damn hands to himself.

Doing some sort of odd shuffling, limping walk, Christophe stubbornly made his way to the bathroom. Usually the medical bag he hauled with him every was stored here, it sat on the marble counter where he last put it. He reached for it, but his gaze caught sight of his reflection of his hand in the mirror. Slowly, his eyes traced up his arms, seeing the bruises, it looked like Gregory had managed to bind his wrists up a little too tightly with something. Figures as Gregory probably wouldn't have managed to get away with what he did so easily. More various bruises dotted his olive skin, handprints, bite marks, hickies, it was chaos. Gregory had been a absolute madman, making Christophe furrow his brows in annoyed concern.

Staring at himself in the mirror, he could see the extent of the damage. It was like Gregory had been desperate in his need to leave his mark on Christophe. Like a wild animal, making bits and pieces of last night flash across his mind, a frenzy gone too quick for Christophe to properly grasp a hold of. It made his body warm up uncomfortably, but he was too tired to really be aroused by it. He squeezed his eyes shut, giving a rub of one of his temples, hoping to ease the sharp pain in his head, making it feel like his skull was cracking open. Finally, he yanked his medical bag closer, digging through it until he found a small cylinder of pain killers. He tossed more than the recommended dose into his mouth.

Leaning down, he turned the faucet on, drinking straight from the tap, not bothering with using one of the hotel's provided cups. It would take a bit for the medicine to work, so in the mean time he turned the water off and the lights, sending the bathroom into darkness. Placing his hands on the counter, he eased some of the weight off his admittedly weakened legs. There was a pain that he wasn't personally familiar with, but he had been aware of it because he wasn't an oblivious dumbass. It was a constant reminder that Gregory had been a literal pain in his ass last night. Fitting, really.

Though why Christophe had allowed Gregory to take things that far was something he needed to investigate, so he knew what to look out for and avoid in the future. They'd been at a club last night, a stake out waiting for one of the men employed under the local drug lord, someone who could give them the information they needed to get to the boss himself. They had heard he liked to visit the club often, so they had planned to get him too drunk to resist getting taken and then interrogate him in one of the old fishing shacks in the warf. In the meantime, they had to blend in. A tourist couple, a flamboyant, fun loving guy with his more serious partner. At least Gregory hadn't asked Christophe to actually play a nice, cheery tourist.

Gregory's outgoing personality drew other club goers in, it was a crowd of drunkards and Christophe had been pressed to drink more and more to keep up the act at least. He couldn't remember if their guy had even shown up, his memory had grown fuzzy at this point. Christophe could handle a bit of alcohol, but usually just acted like he drank a lot, this had just got out of hand. Even Gregory looked like he was losing himself to alcohol. So the culprit had been drinks, no surprise there, Christophe had to be a absolute dumbass to sleep with Gregory. The last thing he needed was to be tangled in Gregory's web, to have his collar slowly tightened around his neck until it was difficult to breathe without the man.

It was no real secret to either of them that there was sexual tension between them, Gregory was a huge tease with anyone he could lure in. Christophe had always resisted, which only excited Gregory more. The thrill of the chase and all. Christophe hated to admit that he liked it, if things weren't so complicated, maybe he would've given in. This wouldn't be such a big deal, but it was. Gregory was a man of sophistication, a figurehead in society. Not to mention a playboy. Christophe was a nobody and since their childhood, their relationship had been basically Gregory the master and Christophe the attack dog. Simple as that and no need to muddy it up with complicated emotions.

That was just scratching the surface of his problems, getting intimate could never just be a physical thing between them, it was a time when they were both exposed to each other, where they could be their true selves and not what they projected to the outside world. Christophe didn't like being vulnerable to anyone, he couldn't let himself get hurt like that. He enjoyed physical pain all too much, but a pain where he couldn't see or touch was the worst. Gregory had been the only one to have dealt such damage to him. Christophe couldn't let his suppressed feelings get in the way again. It was just easier to keep himself sane if he viewed himself simply as a tool and nothing more.

Suddenly, the lights flicked on, burning Christophe's eyes before he could close them and causing a spike of jabbing pain behind them. He swore out under his breath, raising his hand to further shield his eyes from the light when his eyelids hadn't been enough. It was a mistake on his part as it left him open, allowing a arm to snake its way around his waist, feeling smooth skin brush along his own darker skin, roughed with ridges made from scars. The touch was firm, confident and the utmost possessive, drawing him back so he no longer leaned on the counter but against the front of a familiar chest. Though it was strange to feel skin on his own, he was very self-conscious about his body, allowing no one to see his torso exposed.

This was Gregory though and while he did trust the other man, he still didn't want to be seen naked. His lip curled in a silent snarl of distaste, able to feel Gregory was just as bare as himself. A tempting bit of information, but the constant ache of his body was a reminder why falling for temptation was a bad idea, especially right now.

"Mm, what a disappointing feel to wake up and your lover is gone from your arms." Gregory mumbled, his voice thick with sleep still, almost endearing. Almost. Gregory's face tucked itself against Christophe's neck, his lips brushing over the previous night's markings, his teeth grazing over abused flesh as if tempted to leave more marks if he weren't still waking up. A tease if Christophe ever felt one.

"Lovers would imply that I care about you, fuckin' asshole." Christophe growled out, needing something to do to divert his attention away from Gregory, least he be lured in again. Already, Gregory's hands were roaming the front of his torso, causing his scarred flesh to twitch as if trying to avoid being touched. Christophe couldn't blame his body, it had only ever felt pain and thus expected as much. Pain would be a deterrent to most and generally the same went for Christophe, but when it was coming from Gregory, there was a twisted, sickening pleasure to it.

"That's not what you said last night, love." The endearment was meant as a jab at him as Gregory's teeth worried the lobe of one of Christophe's ear, whispering with his voice raspy from sleep. Though what Gregory had said made Christophe tense, what had he told Gregory last night? Had he made a absolute fool of himself? Thinking with his dick was one thing, thinking with his heart was a death sentence.

"I was fuckin' plastered and so were you. What happened last night was a god damn mistake." With the splitting migraine, Christophe's very little patience was running thin. He had planned on taking a shower, but with the way Gregory was acting, that was out of the question now that the Brit was in the bathroom with him. He'd just have to deal with the feel of dried sweat and the musk of sex on his body until he could get some alone time.

"A mistake?" The was a hint of danger in Gregory's tone, Christophe had hit something sensitive. Good. The bastard deserved it. Did he honestly think Christophe would ever intentionally have sex with him? That alone was insanity, he knew Gregory was mad, but not to the level he'd believe his charm could work on Christophe. Then again, it wasn't Gregory's sickeningly false charm that kept Christophe close. There was just some unspoken bond between them, one Christophe couldn't properly describe but knew that being that closely tied with someone was dangerous and taking it lightly would be a mistake.

Christophe wasn't in the mood to explain all the reason why sex with each other was a bad idea to Gregory, the blond was smart enough to puzzle them all out on his own eventually. For now, Christophe needed space, shoving Gregory's arm away, surprised when it gave so easily. He expected more of a fight from Gregory, the Brit wasn't used to not getting what he wanted and would fight to keep what he thought was his. For now, he let Christophe go, knowing a fight between them would go fifty-fifty. Though with Christophe's body hurting, it would likely be more in Gregory's favor, whose pale skin was unblemished, much to Christophe's annoyance. He should've left marks of his own, but he wrote it off as Gregory probably not letting him at the time.

He didn't linger on the idea, because he promised himself never to leave his mark on Gregory.

[savingbuckyb]

Under Construction

Warnings: Modern!Bucky, Shy!Bucky, AU!Bucky, slightly Sub!Bucky, Smut, Language

Summary: You can’t help but notice the guy that fixes your roof.

Author’s Note: some Netflix movie that i don’t know the name of inspired me 😭. (I made the reader slightly rude btw) I’m getting back into the swing of things, enjoy this au fic. Please send feedback :) I’m not too fond of this one.

You woke up to the sound of loud banging, you sighed in aggravation as you burried your head in the pillows, attempting to block out the noise. You let out another groan before reaching for your phone on the dresser and checking the time. 8:45. Shit. You threw yourself out of bed nearly running to the bathroom. You took a quick shower before going to your closet throwing on your most decent outfit. A white blouse, black pencil skirt along with a blazer and heels. You were a fashion editor, you had to at least look presentable. You grabbed your purse and your car keys, rushing outside. You stopped abruptly by your car door catching on to what the loud banging was from earlier this morning, the roofers were here that you specifically told to come next week.

“Hey! Didn’t I tell you idiots not this week?” You raised your voice an octave trying your best to sound the slightest bit of intimidating.

“Well excuse me your highness, we’re booked next week.” The one guy said with the dirty tank top, and incredibly low jeans. You rolled your eyes at the name, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Can you at least keep it down while I’m fucking sleeping?” You now had your hands on your hips, infuriated at how this guy was getting under your skin.

“You should be happy that I woke you up. Looks like you’re gonna be late princess!” He shot you another nickname causing you to roll your eyes once again as his coworkers laughed beside him except one that just stared.

“And what are you looking at helmet head?” You spat at the brunette, hammer in hand, sitting on the panels of your roof. His blue eyes widening and his cheeks reddening before quickly looking away, returning back to the task he was doing. You huffed before walking away with a middle finger, climbing into your car, speeding out of your driveway, beginning your way to work. You sighed to yourself as you sped through the traffic lights and pass the stop signs, not only were you gonna be late to work but you were gonna have to put up with those lazy roofers and their constant loud banging for the rest of the week. You didn’t have the heart nor the patience to hear what your boss had to say when you got there. You were almost always late with the excuse of you living all the way across town. This wasn’t exactly your dream job so you didn’t exactly care if you just happened to get fired, this was just a job for you to make enough money to pay for your comfortably small but yet expensive house and the cute but yet expensive car you were driving. But you know there was no way in hell your boss would ever come up with the gall to fire you, you were the best there was. You pulled up into the parking lot of your job, getting out the car, slamming the door shut before speed walking into your job’s studio. Your boss met eyes with you before he threw his hands up in a surprised, sarcastic way. He strutted over to you, gripping your shoulders in a sorta relieved manner.

“So shocked you could make it in time. You’re lucky, we were just getting started.” He smiled through a thin line and clicked his tongue, dragging you by the hand to the photo shoot that was taking place.

“Nice to see you too.” You tried your best to muster a laugh, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched the photographer snap a couple of photos of the scadily clad model in front of you. You raised an eyebrow going over to a clothing rack, sorting through to the different pieces of accessories and outerwear. You knew something was missing from the shoot but you didn’t know what. Maybe a hat, no. Gloves? No. What about a leather jacket? Yes. You walked back over, holding a hand up to the photographer to hold for a moment.

“Put this on.” You handed the jacket over to the model. Before you could place it in her hand she drew her arm back, a look of disgust on her face.

“Is that real leather? I don’t wear animal skin.” The dirty blonde fanned her hand attempting to shoo you away.

“I’m also anti-leather.. It’s faux.” You said through a half smile.

She scoffed, nearly snatching the jacket out of your hand, slinging it on her body, returning her attention back to the photographer.

“You do know that was 100% real leather right?” Your boss whisper yelled and you smiled to yourself with a nod of your head. “I know.” You winked at him, watching as the model did a couple of more poses then it was on to the next one. This went on for a few more hours until the clock striked seven and your boss finally gave you the permission for you to go home. You sighed happily giving him a small wave, making your way quickly to your car before your boss decided to change his mind. You got back on the highway thinking about what you were going to do for the rest of the day since the night was still young. Your boss let you go more earlier than usual, you never really had this much time for yourself. You were hoping that the roofers were gonna be gone by the time you got back but unfortunately you spoke too soon. When you pulled up into your driveway most of them were gone except one. The quiet brunette from earlier was sitting on the porch of your house, a cigarette between his lips, his utility belt still around his waist as if he was taking small break. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you slammed your car door closed, noticing the brunette snap his head towards you before stomping out his cigarette. You walked over to him as he tried his best to avoid eye contact with you.

“Why are you still here?” You stood in front of him, squinting your eyes.

“I-I was just finishing up..” He finally spoke, his voice almost inaudibly low, his gaze still towards the ground.

“Doesn’t look like it. You better get back to work.. Oh and by the way, please don’t smoke in front of my house.” You rolled your eyes once more before nudging his arm with your thigh, pushing pass him causing him to stumble a bit. As soon as you stepped into your house, you kicked your heels off and tossed your blazer on the couch. You wouldn’t exactly described this day as a long but it was definitely tiring. You unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on your blouse and forced your tired feet to your kitchen. You decided to help yourself to a glass of wine, you know just a small reward for all your hard work that you don’t get enough credit for. You pressed the glass to your lips, letting the dark liquid coat your mouth with its rich taste, you were enjoying this time to yourself until you heard a soft knock at your door. You let out an obnoxious sigh, glaring at the door. You were positive that it was the quiet, cigarette smoking brunette and it took everything in you not to tell him to go away. You drug yourself back over to the door, glaring at the knob before swinging it open. He stood there, refusing to look directly into your eyes, and you rolled yours for the third time that night.

“What do you want?” You seethed, waiting for him to give you a reasonable answer on why he knocked on your door.

“C-can I use your bathroom... Please?” He said softly, fiddling with a screw or something in his hands. You squinted at him and stepped aside. He kind of hesistated for a moment before he realized your actions. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but you cut him off before he did.

“Down the hall, last door on the right.” You muttered as he just nodded his head. You watched him find his way to your bathroom, his shirt tightly clung to his broad shoulders, and his work jumpsuit was half on. You started to wonder why you were ever rude to him, he came to do his job and fix your roof and all you ever said to him since he’s been here were rude comments. You couldn’t help but notice how shy and introverted he was compared to how broad his shoulders were. You didn’t really get the chance to look at his face but you just happen to catch a glimpse this morning of his soft baby blue eyes before you called him helmet head. You immediately started to feel guilt noticing he had put his hair up in a low bun starting at the nape of his neck. You sighed, silently apologizing to yourself for your bitchy ways. You heard the bathroom door close gently before you saw him appear in the hallway close to your front door. He raised his hand up as a friendly gesture to say thank you as he grabbed the door knob. You wanted the chance to apologize to him before he left. You cleared your throat rather too loudly, watching as he visibly jumped a bit from the objection.

“Wait. Uhm, would you like a drink? You look exhausted..” You offered, knowingly aware he’d probably turn it down, saving himself from the embarrassment. But fortunately all he did was nod his head, shut the door and make his way over to you at your kitchen counter. You let out a breath you were holding as you opened the fridge pulling out a ice cold pitcher of lemonade that you forgot you made the night before. You turned to place the pitcher on the counter just to find him looking at you with a familiar stare. You gave him a small smile before he snatched his gaze away from you. You frowned opening the cabinets, grabbing two glasses.

“So, what’s your name?” You asked setting the glasses down, pouring a drink for you and him.

“Huh?” He shot his head back up, his cheeks painted with a soft shade of pink, splotches of dirt here and there from being outside all day.

“Your name.” You slid him a filled glass, taking a sip from yours.

“Bucky.” He mumbled, taking the cold glass into his hands.

“Bucky? That’s kind of odd.” You repeated, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was foreign object. You started to wonder if it was just a nickname but you didn’t bother to ask. A cast of red invaded his cheeks and he looked down, flustered with the comment about his name. “Bucky, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being so rude to you. I was just having a bad morning which made my whole attitude pretty shitty.”

“It’s okay, I-I understand.” From his short answers, you could already tell that Bucky wasn’t much of a man with many words. You smiled at his way of saying he forgives you as he took a long sip from his glass. Your eyes traveled from the small brown strands that managed to escape from the loose bun to the small droplets of sweat that were forming at his temple and trailing over the stubbly, short hairs that blanketed his jawline. Your eyes caught the drops of the sugary drink that happened to escape from his lips. You felt your mouth open slightly wanting to catch every drop that he couldn’t. He was so beautiful. God, you hated him a second ago and now you’re drooling over him. You couldn’t take your eyes away observing how his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gulped down the lemonade, you couldn’t help but fantasize how that small part of subtle skin would feel underneath your lips. Your impure thoughts were interrupted by a string of whispered curses and the clash of broken glass hitting the floor. Bucky attempted to wipe away the spilt drink on his shirt and jeans only making the stains worst. You quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the sink, patting over the spot on his jeans, dabbing away at the denim, attempting to at least get them a litte dry for him. A hitch in his breathing made you to come to realize what was happening. You gasp slightly as your hands hovered over the growing bulge that restrained against his jeans.

“I-I’m sorry.” Bucky breathed out, tears welling at the rims of his eyes. You shook your head assuring him that it was okay. You weren’t sure if your second instinct was the right thing to do when you ran your fingers over the protruding bulge, caressing it. His shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy, you started to wonder if this was his first time being touched like this by a woman. You slowly unzipped his jeans, looking up at him awaiting for permission, he granted it with a silent nod. You had him wrapped around your finger.

“Lift your hips.” You commanded and he complied , watching you pulled down his jeans. You could feel his eyes burrowing a hole into you as you admired his length through his boxers. You pulled his swollen cock out before dropping to your knees in complete awe and adoration. Bucky looked at you as if you were something he saw in a dream, he was so pure. You wrapped your fingers around his base, peppering kisses along his swollen, pink tip. His hips bucked from the small amount of contact, you smirked up at him knowing he’ll probably won’t last long. You gave his tip one last kiss before you took him all into your mouth, your nose brushing against soft coils. Your tongue swirling and flattening around the prominent veins that protruded from the delicate skin. You gazed up at him underneath dark lashes, your hand coming up to get a hold of his balls. His hips jerked allowing himself to sink deeper into the abyss of your throat, a small whimper escaping. He retreated quickly and you guided his hand up to your scalp, allowing his fingers to tangle in your tussled curls reassuring him that he didn’t hurt you. You shook your head a little as his hand stood stiff in your hair, declaring that you wanted him to lead you. Bucky swallowed a large lump in his throat, grabbing a handful of your hair gently forcing you down on him. He guided your motion on his shaft, letting out a strangled groan, protesting that he was on the edge. You took another glance up at him acknowledging the fact that he was coming towards an end so quickly and you haven’t even began yet.

“You gonna cum already? I barely touched you yet.” You chuckled against his cock, shamming him for the short amount of time it took for him to reach his peak. His cheeks blanketed with soft crimson, similar to the shade after you insulted him this morning. You stood up from your knees, intertwining his fingers with yours. His baby blues switched back and forth from yours, pondering your lost of contact.

“W-where are we going?” Bucky sputtered, his jeans hanging loosely around his hips. You shushed him softly, tugging on his hand leading him up the stairs to your bedroom. His steps were small and timid as he stepped pass the threshold of your room, feeling as though he had crossed a sacred boundary. As soon as the both of you were in the room, your lips were on his, hands roaming over his rugged muscles that tested the thin material of his t-shirt. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this intimate with a man expect the one time where you got shit faced wasted at your boss’ welcome back vacation party and you took some random guy home. You didn’t remember anything that happened so it didn’t count. You didn’t know if screwing the stranger that fixes your roof brains out was the right thing to do but at this point you couldn’t really care less about what your conscience’s intentions were. All you cared about was the brooding blue eyed man spread out on display across your bed sheets. It was like accepting candy from a stranger, you knew it was a bad idea but what you were receiving was going to taste so sweet. You peeled off your skirt before crawling onto the bed, straddling his small waist, ridding him of his jeans, hands sloppily making their way up to his shirt. You tugged on the hem, slowly he obliged, lifting up his arms watching as you tossed his shirt to the other abandoned clothing in the corner of the room. His calloused hands snaked around your waist, slithering their way up your shirt, the cold pads of his fingertips sending shivers through your body. He met your eyes, silently pleading for permission. You replied with a nod, taken back by the sudden glimpse in his azure eyes, uncertain of what hid beneath them. Your breath hitched slightly as he peeled your shirt off leaving your chest bare and exposed to the chilled air. His eyes raked back and forth from your breast before cupping the right one into his hand, kneeding the soft skin. He bowed his head, taking the succulent bud in between his teeth earning a whimper from you. Your fingers tangled in his hair out of instinct, back arching at the craved touch he was providing. You couldn’t help but notice the quick glances from him as if he wanted approval, as if he was inquiring his new found skill.

“Please..” You practically begged, your hands reaching for his wrists, guiding his hands closer to where you needed them the most.

“How... How am I doing?” His breath fanned against your skin. You replied with a eager nod, you couldn’t find yourself to form a proper fragment while his idled hand found the apex between your thighs. His fingers ran over the black thin lace that was concealing your modesty, hooking one digit onto the waistband before pulling them down toturingly slow. You didn’t know if he was intentionally going this slow or if this was just his normal pace but you swore it was driving you crazy.

“O-oh.” Bucky recognized what he might’ve been doing wrong, quickly picking up the pace, placing two of his fingers onto your lower lips, spreading them apart. You immediately quivered at the contact, biting down on your bottom lip holding onto the absurd noises that might escape from your throat. He ran his long digits over the tiny bundle of nerves, rubbing it softly before rolling it around in between his fingers almost like he was exploring something that was new to him. He continued his slow movements before finally pushing his two fingers into your heat. You released your bottom lip from your teeth, letting out a lewd moan, clenching onto his fingers. He looked up at you one more time before raising his chin, pressing his lips to yours. You were taken back by his sudden act of passion, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back with equal amounts of deprivation. Your tongue slipped pass his lips, tugging and pulling at the supple skin of his bottom lip.

“I can’t take this anymore.” You panted, tugging his boxers down with one swift movement. You expected him to be big but you didn’t know he was going to be this big. His hands wrapped around your waist as you hovered over his bare lap, you bit your lip once more before sliding down onto his awaiting member. Your hand flew up to his shoulder for leverage, adjusting yourself to his considerable length. You kept your eyes on his, observing how his face crinkled and winced at the feeling of you squeezing around his manhood. Bucky’s hands tightened around your hips, himself adjusting to your tightness. It nearly felt like he couldn’t move as he was burrowed inside of you, after a failed attempt of trying to buck his hips, he sat there stiff. You gave him a small smile brimming with sympathy, taking a deep breath you began to slowly rock your hips, picking up the pace just a bit more, your hand fisted a hand full of his hair, bringing yourself up and down on him every time. Between your soft moans and his muttered curses along with the slappping of skin against skin filled the room, his teeth dug into the crook of your neck inflicting an enjoyable pain.

“Faster...” Bucky pleaded and so did his eyes. “Please, doll..”

“Huh? I can’t hear you.” You teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Don’t make me beg..” He gritted through his teeth only causing the flame in you to ignite, you giggled deviously before following his demands. He began following your steadied pace by using his hips. You rode him faster than your usual pace, your hands placed gently on his chest, your breast bouncing as you sent the man underneath nearly you over the edge. His hurried breaths and incoordination of the rhythm of his hips didn’t hide the fact that he was close to his peak. His breath hitched in his throat and you could tell he attempted to cover it up. You smirked at him, holding back a giggle as you rotated your hips watching him throw his head back in bliss.

“Are you gonna cum?” You took a hold of his chin, turning it so he can look at you. He looked so beautiful. His eyes lust blown, damp strands of hair fanned across his forehead along with a soft sheen of sweat that coated his skin.

“Y-yeah.” He huffed while you leaned back on your hands to get a better look at him come undone. His chest rose and fell, he grabbed your hips trying to lift you up off his lap. “Get up.” He grumbled at the added weight you put on him, his hands wrapping around your ribcage as your legs wrapped around his small waist.

“Go ahead, cum.” You egged him on and eventually he gave up on trying to throw you off of him. You rode him into his orgasm until hot spurts of cum filled your heated womb. You moaned loudly at the feeling of fulfillment and the spent look on Bucky’s face. Finally he lifted you off of him, laying you on your back, resting your head on the pillows. You sighed happily as you felt the warm liquid leak out of you onto your thighs and the bedsheets. Bucky took a moment to adjust himself before he laid in between your legs, his fingers ran over your clit like he did earlier. “Oh, you don’t have to do that-“

“B-but I want to.” He placed your leg over his shoulder, spreading your lips once more before pressing his lips against them. His tongue worked circles around your clit, while two of fingers slipped inside of your sopping heat. Your fingers combed through his unruly hair, pulling at the strands nearly them out their follicles. He moaned at the pain, his hands gripping and clawing at your thighs, small bites on your clit sending you over the edge. You tried to pull your hips away from him until he push you back down gently, smiling up at you with bright eyes.

“God, you’re gonna make me-.. I’m cumming... I’m cumming..” You writhed above him, pushing his head back but he continued his assault on your worn clit. You stopped fighting him, letting go completely. You yanked his hair for the last time, your back arching off the bed as your head was thrown back in ecstasy. You heaved uncontrollably and convulsed coming down from your high. You weren’t use to having your fair share during sex but this was different than you expected. It was more than what you expected. The caring aspect of sex didn’t come to you often, you were use to false and rushed orgasms, not assurance and receiving. After bringing yourself to the right state of mind, you felt the bed dip beside you noticing Bucky slipping back on his boxers.

“You can stay here with me.. if you want..” His mouth open and closed, eyes gazing blankly as if he was stuck in his thoughts.

“Okay..” Was all he said before crawling back into the blankets beside you. Soon before you knew it, you were engulfed in his arms and fast asleep.

Your eyes shot open at a familiar loud banging, you let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing the blankets off of you violently. You look to the side realizing the tall brute you fell asleep with wasn’t there anymore. You sighed for the second time, making your way to the shower. You tried your best not to think about last night, but images of you on top of some stranger continued to race through your mind. You didn’t know what got into you, just something about him attracted you to him. You slid on your favorite blouse along with some trousers, fixing your hair and makeup before leaving your house, on your way to another day of work. You were about to hop in your car until you heard the same worker’s voice from the morning before.

“Well, you’re up early!” He hollered and you swore you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh fuck off.” You swung your door open before catching a glimpse at Bucky sitting on the same spot of your roof from when you first saw him. You saw him perk up once your eyes caught his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer, helmet head.” You offered him a soft smile that reached the crinkles of your eyes and he returned it with a sweet smile of his own and a wave. At that moment you knew last night wouldn’t be the only time you took candy from a stranger.

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 17: Sorry

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentioned/implied abuse, brief description of gross healing wound stuff; Illustrated

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

“It was, um. I, uh. Fuck. Br-I mean, B-fuck, Dad —“

“Easy, kid, Jesus,” Terezi said, cutting Dave off. “I told you, I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you’re not in too much trouble with this. You did the right thing by being honest, and as long as you keep being honest just a bit longer, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re not held at fault for this, okay? Just keep calm and try again. Start at the beginning. When did this start?”

“Uh.” Dave fidgeted in his chair. They were in one of the guest rooms (the one Karkat was staying in, most likely, judging by the lack of color scenting the air; Terezi would have questioned Dave in his own room, but suspected that he would be uncomfortable having a cop in the only space he really had any privacy), away from the ongoing hassle downstairs so that Terezi could get as close to the full story as possible. Terezi was recording the audio of the exchange for evidence later - she’d planned on video footage, but the camera had seemed to make Dave nervous, so, audio it was. Dave continued, “Do you mean, like. ‘This’ as in everything, or ‘this’ as in what went down tonight?”

Terezi sighed. “Ideally, the sooner you tell us everything you know about Strider, the better,” she explained. “The more we know about him, the better we’ll be able to protect you and a whole bunch of other people from him, and as a bonus, having some really concrete shit on the guy would get my fucking superiors to maybe take me seriously about giving your family a proper God damned protection detail, but I’m not keeping my hopes up. So if it’s all you’re willing to say, then just tonight’s details will do fine, but more is appreciated.”

Dave gulped audibly and shifted again.

“Okay,” Terezi said, “Let’s start with this, then. You knew about this plan ahead of time. That’s not a question, I don’t need you to confirm it, you had to know or else you wouldn’t have been able to give us an exact time and a close estimate on how many people were coming. What I do want to know is, how? How did this get planned, and how were you made aware of it?”

“…Um,” Dave gulped. “Supposing I, uh. Didn’t exactly follow all the rules one time, would…”

“As long as you’re honest, I’ll forgive it,” Terezi said. “Call it a warning if you want. Repeat infractions would be a bad idea, but right now it’s more important that you tell me what happened.”

“I, uh.” Dave took a deep breath before answering. “Two months ago, back in June, he, uh, Dad, he sent T—sent one of his guys up. He waited out in the forest and signaled me to come out with a flashlight.”

“And you went out to him?”

“Sorry,” Dave said, pulling back.

“It’s fine. Don’t do it again. What happened? Why didn’t that guy just take you away?”

“He, uh. He said…It’s. D-dad’s kinda paranoid, you know?  And I’ve heard him and…uh, I’ve heard him talking with…I’ve heard him talk about how if he wanted to be ambitious enough to take things across state lines, they’d have to be really careful about it. His face is everywhere, n’ all.” Dave paused. Terezi could hear his breathing pick up. Poor kid was terrified to share even this much, no wonder he’d sat on the knowledge of this plan for so long. “And he’d come up with a way of doing it, involving setting up, uh, a whole lot of people in a sort of…chain? So that he could regularly switch cars and sorta smuggle himself across state lines without getting caught, so that no one car or truck or whatever would be identified as having him in it just in case he did get seen in one. And, uh, the guy he sent said that, uh, since I got caught by the police, they’d have to do the same thing, but in reverse, and that it’d take a while to set everything up.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. Fuck, if he ever does try to take things out of Texas, he’s really gonna be a pain in the ass to track.” Terezi pinched the bridge of her nose momentarily. “Alright. So did you meet with this guy multiple times to keep up on how things were going, or…?”

“No,” Dave said. “I mean, if something changed, he woulda come back, I think, but. He just told me the date and time and to come out to the same spot he met me. Said we’d do it at four in the morning cuz people are really deep asleep just before dawn, or something, so it’d be easier for me to sneak out.”

“Right.” Terezi tapped her finger against her knee. “So. Next question. Did he mention anything about a car accident in all this?”

“What?”

Terezi scowled. “There was a massive car wreck on the intersection leading into the only road down to your house. Big mess of a thing. Investigations into it suggest foul play, as if the timing didn’t already make me suspicious. It kept the police from getting down to your house in time, and it’s likely that if you hadn’t told Dirk when you did, it would’ve taken them even longer to clear the road. Did he mention anything about that being part of the plan?”

Dave was quiet for a long moment. Eventually, he said, “No, but…he probably wouldn’t have told me that bit, anyway. Sounds like the kinda thing the old man woulda done.”

“Why?” Terezi said. “Why assume you’re going to talk and plan ahead?”

“I dunno if he thought I was gonna talk,” Dave said, “so much as he probably just figured I was gonna fuck something up. He, uh, tends to make any plans where I’m involved under the assumption I’ll screw it up somehow. ’S why he sent so many people, too, I’d guess.” He fidgeted again. “He’s not exactly wrong, either. I’m kinda useless at a lot of this shit.”

“Only thing you did wrong this time is waiting so long to tell us,” Terezi said. “Well, that and going outside to meet some asshole in the woods. But you did tell us, at least.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, Dave,” Terezi said, weary to her very bones, “All I’m asking is that if any of this shit happens again, just…tell us right away, alright? If you want to stay here, you can, as long as you want. Indefinitely. But the only way I can really protect you is if you tell me this shit is happening. If the guy comes back with a flashlight again, tell Dirk or your mom so that they can call me or the local police. He tries to contact you some other way, your reaction should be the same. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Sorry.”

Kanaya stood before the reflecting panel of the ablutionblock, her hair still gently dripping as she carefully wrapped the long strip of gauze in her hands around her middle. The wound wasn’t…bleeding anymore, exactly, but it was rather unpleasantly oozing a bit, and Kanaya didn’t want to stain any more of her clothing than was strictly necessary. The wash had been a long one; she’d cleaned most of the blood off of her skin (and, alright, maybe licked up just a little bit more of it) with a fair amount of ease, but getting it out of her hair was a nightmare consuming an hour’s worth of her time, during which she kept finding more spots on her skin, horns, and claws that had somehow missed the initial run-through. She was very glad to no longer feel sticky.

Still a little hungry, but that could be dealt with later. Probably. Did she even need to drink blood, she wondered, or was it optional? Was this going to be a constant urge permanently? Troubling thoughts, to be sure. She’d have to do a bit of research, see if she could find any other actual rainbow drinkers. There were always rumors of them, enough that believing they existed back on Alternia was more reasonable than not believing in them, but Kanaya had certainly never actually met one, to her knowledge.

Slipping the nightgown she’d selected (and had Rose carry, to avoid sullying the garment with her then-bloody hands), she checked herself over in the mirror. She really was very brightly glowing, now. Good grief, that would certainly be awkward to explain to people, not to mention making it difficult for her to avoid attention if the need for such ever arose. Maybe there was a way to turn it off?

(At the very least, she was grateful she could see herself in the reflecting panel, unlike Earth’s version of rainbow drinkers. Why the creatures apparently did not show up on reflecting surfaces, Kanaya wasn’t sure, but it must make dressing properly quite the extra hassle.)

Hm. Perhaps the nightgown had been the wrong choice of outfit, too. Everyone else in the hive was pushing toward getting some rest, after the long night, but Kanaya still felt…charged. Full of energy and ready for anything. It was likely a side effect of the whole…suddenly-becoming-a-rainbow-drinker thing. Which. Hopefully there would not be too many of.

For all the allure of rainbow drinker lore, some of the side effects some stories spoke of were…worrying. They were creatures of a great deal of myth and obscurity, and Kanaya had no clue how much of the variable quirks and such of the beings in her books would apply to her new reality. She really didn’t want to go feral again. A repeat experience of biting people who did not agree to it would be…undesirable.

Again, she worried about whether this desire for blood was just a biological urge with no major consequences to ignoring, or if she actually needed it to survive. Ugh. This was going to be tricky to deal with, either way. She’d already noticed an increased awareness of the pulsing of everyone around her’s cardiovascular systems, right down to little Jaspers (who she had NO intention of harming, good grief, that was a purely monstrous thought even in passing).

She stepped out of the ablution block and nearly bumped into Dave, who made a very concerted effort to leap right through the ceiling at her sudden appearance. Terezi, looking thoroughly exhausted, pushed past the both of them and headed downstairs, but Kanaya called out for Dave as he turned to head into his own room.

“Wait,” she said, “If I could speak to you for a moment?”

He froze, his pulse hammering out a quick staccato beat, then turned slowly, a mumbled “Sure” on his lips.

Kanaya tried to smile as nonthreateningly as possible. “Well, I would like to apologize first for startling you as I did a moment ago, but, more importantly I wanted to thank you.”

“I…what?”

“I mean,” Kanaya said, “You may not have done the best thing you could have, all things considered, but it seems like you know that, and in any case I’m sure Terezi and any number of the others have already given you plenty of talk about the whole issue of your confession’s timing and so on.” Dave nodded wordlessly. “Right, well,” Kanaya continued, “It may not have been the best decision you could have made when looking at however long an opportunity you had to tell us, but at the point in time in which you did, it was certainly the best of the options still available to you. I mean, your only other choices would have been to either go with those men or try to hide here and tell us nothing, and with no time to prepare at all there’s every chance that we all would have gotten hurt.”

“Somene did get hurt,” Dave said, cautious. “You got hurt. You being okay now doesn’t change that. I still fucked up.”

“You made a mistake, yes,” Kanaya said. “That’s pretty undeniable, all things considered, but it’s not the point I’m trying to make…Urgh, I’m babbling again, aren’t I. Okay, what I’m trying to say here is that you did the best you could under the circumstances, and more importantly, I can see that this was not an easy thing for you to do. It was very brave of you to tell us the truth at all, even if the timing wasn’t fantastic, and it’s for that that I want to offer you my thanks.”

“…You’re not mad?” Dave said.

“Not at all,” said Kanaya. “You did the right thing. Thank you.”

“…Sure,” he mumbled.

“That’s all I really wanted to say, honestly,” Kanaya said.

Dave nodded, mumbled something Kanaya didn’t catch, and hurried back to his room.

After her own round of questioning from Terezi, Kanaya, unable to sleep, ultimately ended up quietly sketching out some clothing designs for Porrim for the next several hours, perched on the couch across from where Karkat lay still in the midst of his impromptu nap until about midmorning. The rest of the house was still sleeping at that point, leaving the trolls alone to what was, from Kanaya’s perspective, a surprisingly (yet also quite touching) heartfelt reunion. Karkat had all but sprang up from the couch and thrown his arms around her, tears running damp tracks down his face, as he swore that if she ever died again he would personally piss on her grave. It was followed by a very sniffly declaration, as he pulled away and tried in vain to wipe his ganderbulbs and scent sponge, that if she ever told anyone about this, he’d set all of her “stupid trashy rainbow drinker books” ablaze. She’d responded with a threat to tell Dave all about that pale crush that Karkat totally didn’t have, and after a few more minutes of cursory bickering, Karkat had settled down enough that tears were at least no longer being spilled, and she filled him in on what had happened both outside and in the time since he’d fainted.

Dirk was the first of the humans awake, and when he came upstairs, he’d asked where Terezi had gone to; Kanaya informed him that she’d gone out to sleep off the long night in the same car she’d arrived in, and that there should be two officers outside the door if he needed something. Apparently satisfied, he’d headed back downstairs.

(Dirk’s pulse always picked up a bit when talking to her; she had no idea if that had always been the case, but she suspected her new status as a being which on Earth was considered pure fantasy probably made him a bit…nervous.  Kanaya didn’t find this particularly bothersome, but was more interested in the fact that her new senses certainly made reading the more emotionally distant members of the Lalonde family easier.)

Karkat had decided after this that he wanted to take his own turn in the ablution block, and took his leave. Kanaya was alone for maybe half an hour before Rose came stumbling down the stairs.

They chatted for a bit as Rose woke herself up and made her morning meal. Rose was clearly still shaken by the events of the night before, as Karkat had been, but was doing a better job of keeping herself collected. At least, until she asked if Dave had been up and about. The way her face darkened, the bitterness in her voice as she asked, was…concerning.

“He’s not been out and about yet, not since he was questioned by Terezi, I don’t think. I spoke to him just after that, though,” Kanaya said. “I already thanked him.”

“Thanked him?!” Rose cried out. “For what, getting you hurt?”

“For being honest with us,” Kanaya said. “Rose, I sincerely suspect that no one knows better than he does that he made a mistake in waiting so long to tell us, but he still did the right thing in the end. I understand that it was very difficult for him to do so, and I would like him to continue being honest, so, yes, I thanked him.”

“Well, forgive me if I don’t find his actions particularly praise worthy,” Rose spat.

Kanaya sighed. She did a quick mental take on human relationships before continuing; Rose and Dave were…siblings, she believed the word was, which should mean that Kanaya intervening this time wouldn’t be considered ashen, right? She wasn’t auspitizing, just…keeping the peace. Besides, even if they weren’t siblings, this was hardly anything to be considered black; certainly it wasn’t healthy in either of their species.

“Rose, I understand that you’re angry,” Kanaya started.

“Oh, not you too,” Rose said. “I’m not going to just stop being angry, not when I’m completely justified about it. He put us all in danger! You got hurt, Kanaya! It’s pure luck that no one was permanently killed!”

“Yes, I agree,” Kanaya said. Rose blinked, then narrowed her eyes in confusion, but waited for Kanaya to explain. “You’ve every right to be angry. But I think you ought to consider the consequences of not at least trying to talk things out. I mean, it might be hard, he barely said a word to me when I tried talking to him earlier, which is very unusual for him, from what I’ve seen.”

“Kanaya, you’re getting sidetracked again.”

“Shoot! Right, sorry. What I’m trying to say is,” Kanaya said, “that…you’ve had to work very hard to earn his trust, and you haven’t earned all of it yet — I don’t think any of us has, really, not even Karkat — but. If you keep lashing out at him like you did just now, you’re going to destroy what little of his trust you have earned. You’ll be right back to square one!”

Rose crossed her arms. “So what, I should just pretend he did nothing wrong, act like he’s totally innocent?”

“No, Rose, I’m…all I’m saying is that you should try talking to him. Not like just now, but…with an open mind and a lot of honesty, and…I think it would benefit both of you to talk things out, and for you to maybe consider forgiving him once you’ve done so. You might find that perhaps your anger is…misdirected, and perhaps there is a bit more of it than there should be.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Please? Just give it a try?”

Rose rolled her eyes, but said, “Oh, alright. If only because you’re the one who got hurt. You’ve more right to be angry than anyone, and if you’re so sure he’s deserving of a second chance, then…I suppose it’s worth a shot.”

“Thank you,” Kanaya said.

Rose planned, originally, on fulfilling her promise to Kanaya to allow Dave to explain himself properly when her brother decided to show his face about the house, but when he had still not shown himself well after noon, it became clear that she was going to have to be the bigger person and initiate this conversation. She’d given him every chance to try and make the first move by that point, to try and show some sign of recognition that he knew he was in the wrong as Kanaya claimed he did, but to know avail. Rose wished she could say she was surprised, but really, this behavior was about par for the course.

At every turn, he’d responded to the various bridges offered by his family by acting as though they were going to set fire to them. He’d been antisocial, reclusive, and distant; the few times he did deign to be a part of the group dissolved at the barest slight; and the one time that they’d managed to have an actual good night, he’d turned it into an absolute disaster. “You’ll lose his trust,” Kanaya had said, but Rose would like to know what exactly Dave had done to earn hers.

And always he’d responded the same way, with no real sign of any emotion reflected in those apathetic shades, his face ever the same blank mask.

So he was when she knocked on his bedroom door, after the usual dragging sound preceding him creaking open the entryway. His hair was messy, and he still wore the same pajamas from the night before, having apparently not bothered to change out of them or clean himself up in any way.

Not that he needed to, since he’d been safely inside the entire time, but whatever.

He held the door open and moved aside, letting her step in. She closed the door behind herself. He stood, motionless, close to a corner by the door, and said not a word.

“Look,” she said, doing what was, in her opinion, an excellent job of keeping calm in the face of ceaseless apathy, “I don’t particularly want to be here any more than you want me here, but Kanaya insists that I need to talk to you about what happened. So let’s talk.”

“‘Kay,” Dave said.

“Let’s talk about how I am apparently the one overreacting when you decided to put us all in danger by putting off telling us about this, there’s a good place to start.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t want ‘sorry,’ Dave,” she said, trying very hard not to shout. “I want answers! What were you thinking?”

“Sorry.”

“Are you really so miserable here that you wanted to go back? Did you take some sort of sick pleasure in springing anarchy on us on what was previously the first really enjoyable night we’ve had since you got back?!”

“Sorry.”

“Would you stop apologizing!” she snapped.

Dave leaned back slightly with a near unnoticeable jolt. His only other reaction was to mumble several senseless fragments of words, ending with what sounded like another weak, emotionless, “Sorry.”

And still, his face was blank, his mouth still that same thin line, the rest of his face still hidden behind those black, unfeeling, damnable sunglasses. Still he stood, unmoving and unresponsive. Rose felt her blood boil, felt two months’ worth of building frustration at this unending, passive-aggressive war of tedium and spite he insisted on waging, finally erupt in an explosion which devastated the last remaining vestiges of her patience.

With a shouted, “Will you give me a straight fucking answer, for once!” she snatched the blasted sunglasses off of his face —

and saw fear.

He still barely moved, his mouth only slightly open and the rest of him flinching slightly away, one arm coming up to guard his face, only to stop halfway, but his eyes put everything else about him into a sudden perspective. To call him a deer in the headlights would be a great understatement; his look was that of a small child facing death itself, his pupils dilated heavily and the whites of his eyes even more huge. He wasn’t cowering, but he was stiff, Rose realized very suddenly; not unreactive out of apathy, but frozen in sheer terror. Too frightened to run, too frightened to fight back.

“‘m sorry,” Dave mumbled again. Somehow, given the depth of fright in his eyes, the words sounded less infuriating now and more like a desperate begging for mercy, choked out as though past a swollen tongue.

The heat that had built in her seemed to fizzle out in the space of a second.

“What’s —” ‘the matter,’ she’d been planning on asking, but halted after a moment — she’d moved her hand up, intending to reach out to him, touch his shoulder perhaps, but the slightest movement had drawn his terrified eyes to watch her hand, transfixed, in the same moment as his entire body jolted slightly, too stiff to properly flinch.

Testing, she moved her hand to the side, watched how his eyes stayed locked on her every movement. He was bracing himself, it seemed, for some blow which Rose certainly didn’t plan on delivering, yet here he was utterly convinced that it was coming. Yet, he couldn’t run, made no move beyond those slight jerks and a nearly invisible full body tremble, and he certainly made no attempt to fight back.

What did it take, she wondered, to frighten someone this much?

“What the hell did he do to you?” she said aloud, barely a breath of a whisper.

Dave’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion faintly tinging the terror on his face. “He…who…wha?” he stammered. “I…I don’t…”

Rose took a step back, the sunglasses clutched gently in her hands, her own eyes now trained on the floor. This…this was going to need more thought, but clearly she’d made a lot of assumptions which had proved incorrect. He’d…he’d seemed to always be well enough, she’d assumed that since he showed few of the classic signs of fear that it couldn’t be what led to his behavior, but…

God, he must’ve thought they were going to do something awful to him this whole time.

“Kanaya was right,” she said aloud. “I…misunderstood the situation. I didn’t realize…I hadn’t known I was scaring you so much, Dave, and for that I apologize.”

She never wanted to be the reason he looked this scared again, if she could help it.

“I still stand by that I had every right to be as upset as I was,” she continued. “You put us in a lot of danger, and I’d still like to know why you held off for so long. That being said, you…did eventually try to do the right thing, and…the last thing I want is to scare you into thinking it would be unsafe to do so again.”

“I don’t…” Dave murmured.

“Don’t what?” Rose said, and she must have said it a bit too quickly, because he flinched again. She made an effort to soften her gaze. His eyes were darting, now, almost frantic, his mouth trying to form words before his mind could piece them together.

“I don’t…know,” he said. “I don’t…I.”

“Do you want to be here?”

He nodded, guilt joining the confusion and fear on his features.

“…But you felt you can’t stay,” she guessed. “Is that it? Were you afraid he’d do something awful if you didn’t play along?”

Another nod. His eyes didn’t meet hers again.

“So why tell us, then?”

“…Cuz I was scared again,” he said, a hint of almost Dirk-like self loathing creeping into his voice. “Realized all at once that I’m not ready to go back and panicked.”

“Not ready?” Dave’s face turned further away. His trembling was growing worse. “So you’re still planning on going back, then?”

Dave sighed, and looked back at her, the fear in his eyes now tempered with a very genuine sorrow. “Doesn’t matter what I want, Rose,” he said. “He’s gonna come back for me again.”

What the hell did he do to you, she thought again, the fire once extinguished beginning to burn again. She said nothing, only looked at the black plastic in her hands.

This was…a lot to process. She’d need to think about this more, to be sure. Maybe ask Roxy again for advice, now that she’d been given a new point of view on things.

She held the shades back out to her brother, who hesitated a long moment before taking them back in a shaking hand.

“I’m sorry again for overreacting,” Rose said. “You clearly knew you’d made a mistake, and I ought not have been so excessively cruel to you, no matter how badly I was hurting at the time. I hope you can forgive me. I can, at the very least, say that I’ve forgiven you. It was just a mistake, after all.”

Dave stared at her, blinking, as she turned for the door. He didn’t react until she was already halfway down the hall heading back to her own room.

“Wait,” he called after her, from the now open door. “Wait, is — that’s it?” His eyes were now more confused than anything else, perplexity almost comically stamped across his face.

“That’s it,” Rose said, and walked away.

[zebracornzedragon]

@nick-nocturn

I did this a while ago, but was too timid to actually post it anywhere. I’m a fan of your work Mr. Nocturn, and so I decided to make a piece of fan-art of you in the world of Don’t Starve, because it’s a rather creepy world and the artstyle is gorgeous. (Materials used were, a .5mm lead mechanical pencil, several different Micron pens, a Pentalic set of 12 colored pencils, and a white Gelly Roll pen.)

Featured above are my two personal Don’t Starve OCs, Wander Lost and Wakana(For those who don’t know, every canon playable character’s name begins with a ‘W’, and too often I’ve seen people just name their DS OCs whatever they want without any regard for following canon. Thus my two characters names start with ‘W’.), and @nick-nocturn ‘s four eyed cat form. 

Wakana(the biped-dragon thing) primarily uses sign language to communicate(here she is signing one of the forms of “fear/scared”). Although she can also speak normally, she prefers not to because she has exceptionally large teeth, and she doesn’t want to scare anyone.

Wander Lost(the pony) can understand her sign language, though obviously can’t perform it himself, and often translates for those who don’t understand her. For those wondering about his lantern, it’s his “Starting Item/Special Equipment” that only he has. The lantern itself is an enchanted item that is a source of constant light, and was given to him by a Unicorn friend, who enchanted it.

This post is getting long, but I wanted to write a little story behind this encounter, so there will be a cut in which the story will hide. (also figure I should say this… Yes, I am aware that there are some issues with anatomy, pose, and perspective. I am pleased with how it turned out, given that I am unused to drawing other people’s characters. Also sometimes you just can’t get something to look perfect.)

“Say buddy… you don’t look so good. You should probably go find something to eat.”

Nick Nocturn blinked his four eyes open and sat up painfully. There did not appear to be anyone around to do the speaking… but whoever it was had a point. He was hungry… very hungry.

The four eyed, four armed cat-creature got to his feet, and brushed himself off, taking stock of his current situation. He still had his sweater, which was good, as it was a little cold. Nothing seemed broken, and he didn’t want to attempt to change his shape in this strange world.

The next thing was to figure out how and why he was here. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t been summoned here, wherever here was… not exactly. Had he been summoned, surely whoever had summoned him would have been there, ready to make a deal or contract.

There was little to do besides ponder on what little information he had while he did what whoever-they-were had suggested… finding food. He started walking, but after only a few dozen meters he was brought up short. 

The land where he stood was much like a savanna… the grass was yellow and dry, and there were very few trees. The land only a few paces ahead of him was lush and green, and there was a positive forest of tall trees. The dividing line was clean cut, as though someone had perfectly pushed these two Biomes together.

As he stood there, confused but intrigued, he caught a glimpse of desaturated red and blue-ish-purple, and of near pure white. He did not sense any hostility, and he pricked his ears at the sound of a voice.

“-Don’t know what you’re talking about. Maxwell has his reasons for grabbing people from where ever and leaving them here.”

The voice wasn’t especially unusual, though strangely distorted, and Nick hazarded a guess that it was male… however there was no second voice, even as the first replied as if there had been. Someone insane perhaps?

“I’m sure we’ll run into them eventually… I mean… we’ve run into others before, right? Maxwell’s voice carries.”

That was interesting… the name Maxwell had been brought up twice now… perhaps he was the one who had brought Nick here. This other person seemed to know more than he did, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t scare them off.

It was easy to follow them… they weren’t exactly being quiet. The conversation wasn’t totally useful, though Nick did keep as best mental track as he could of possible relevant information, and possible topics to ask about.

At last they were out into a larger area, clear of trees. Nick could see that there were two… people, if you could call them that. One appeared to be a winged equine of some sort, and the other… he hadn’t encountered anything that looked like them before.

“Excuse me!” Nick called out and they both turned instantly to face him. He cautiously attempted to approach, and while both seemed a little uncertain about him, they did not flee… a good sign.

“I’m sorry that I startled you, but I wanted to ask you somethings… since you appear to know a something more about this place than I do. I should introduce myself. My name is Nick Nocturn.”

The strange creature was making a very distinct motion with her hands and arms, but Nick didn’t know what it meant. When the equine spoke, Nick recognised them to be the owner of the voice he’d heard.

“Hello Mister Nocturn… You must be the new person that Maxwell snatched. My name is Wander Lost, but you can wall me whichever part you prefer. My companion here is named Wakana.” The reason his voice was distorted was now explained… He held the wooden handle of a lantern in his mouth. 

The other creature, Wakana, made a number of seemingly specific motions with her hands… sign language perhaps? Wander watched her motions out of the corner of his eye, and translated.

“She wants to know what your questions are… and also if we may ask some in return.”

Nick agreed, and asked his first question. “I wanted to know where I am, and how I arrived here, since the two seem connected.”

“Well,” Wander said slowly, “I don’t know that this place actually HAS a name, but we, and the other’s we’ve met, call it Maxwell’s world. As for how you got here, Maxwell himself plucked you from where ever you were, whatever you were doing, and plonked you down here. It’s all a game for him… we live and we die for his amusement, or at least, that’s what we’ve figured.”

“Hmm… what about this Maxwell person? Do you know anything about him?”

“Not much, but as far as either of us know, he’s just the person behind everything that happens here. And he’s kinda a jerk, as you’ll soon learn. speaking of… Wakana, when are the hounds supposed to arrive?”

Wakana signed something that made Wander say several expletives of varying intensity, though all seemed to revolve around two or possibly three beings. Presumably something from where he was from?

“Nick, we need to leave here now… You can come with us back to our camp, but we don’t have long until the hounds arrive, and the camp’s still a ways away. At least a day’s walk, and then the hounds will be here in another day. If you want, we can talk on the way, but we can’t stay here.” 

Nocturn had little choice but to follow them as they started walking… surprisingly fast compared to what he had expected.

“What are these hounds? Are they on a schedule or something?”

“Sorta… They usually turn up every ten days… Maxwell sends them after us. They’re really dangerous… I usually end up running, since I’m faster than them, and I’m not much of a fighter… Wakana fights them if she has to… especially if there are fire hounds.”

They continued in silence for a while, Wander appeared to know the way back, since he was leading. Nick’s stomach rumbled, and wakana turned off from them and disappeared into the new tree biome that they were in. She returned moments later, carrying a large handful of berries, and offered them to Nick, who accepted them gratefully.

As Wander had said, they arrived a little before the sun set to the camp. There were berry bushes and little saplings in neat rows. They had a fridge, several chests, a couple tools in a pile, and a second slightly larger pile of what looked like makeshift armor and weapons. 

Wakana had already knelt down beside the fire pit, and was trying to get it started. Already the sun was almost gone, and the camp was getting dark… though there was still a good amount of light from Wander’s lantern, it had limited range.

Wakana got the fire going, and threw a number of logs on to get it really burning bright. She walked over to one of the chests and started digging through it, Wander was sorting through the armor and weapons, when the sound of an eerie music box made both of them abandon what they were doing and stand beside the fire.

Nick trotted over to them, and looked around for what they were nervous of. The sight of a shadow hand creeping towards the fire, accompanied by more creepy music, made wakana leap forward and stomp on it, chasing it back into the darkness. A second hand was trying to do the same thing as Wander stamped his hooves down onto it, making it retreat, even as a third hand started creeping forward. 

“Step on it! Chase it away from the fire!” The voice wasn’t Wander’s but had an edge to it that made Nick obey, and to his surprise the hand retreated from his paws… but only a little bit. 

Taking his que from the pair of them, he pursued the shadow hand until it vanished into the dark, but remained in the very edge of the light from the fire. He sensed that there was something worse waiting out in the darkness that would give even a shapeshifter like him trouble. Returning to the edge of the fire, more shadow hands were already trying to steal the fire, and the others were chasing them back. Nick joined in, making as many hands flee as he could, and with the three of them together, they managed to hold them off until morning.

“Whew,” Wander panted as the sun started to rise, putting his lantern down for the first time and wiping his forehead with a wing, “That’s not something I want to repeat… that was a lot more hands than usual…”

“Than… usual…?” Nick asked, looking between the two, “Who was that other voice last night?” 

“That was… me…” Wakana said timidly, wringing her hands, “I don’t usually talk… people tend to be scared of me when I talk… so I use sign language.” 

She smiled nervously, and even Nick had to admit, to a human, her exceptionally large and sharp teeth would be intimidating. Nick smiled at her encouragingly, displaying his own teeth to show her that she wasn’t alone in having teeth that scare humans.

(I'll leave off the story here, but if anyone wants me to continue, hit me with a message and I guess I'll write more!)