#the game isnt over yet ~ patrick [thread]

[heksery]

“Oi, Oi! Just because I dress like one does not mean I’m a bloody poser pirate!! Nothing I’d want more than to sail and pillage, thank you very much-“ @pastelchosen

"Then what's stopping you, love?" Patrick retorts. "Pillaging, aye, that one's a bit more difficult these days, but sailing's not too hard to pick up. Be happy to teach you," he offers.

[heksery]

"I don't think the world could handle that," Patrick jested. "Look at you and your handsome face, with that voice that should play on a record every single hour of every day. You're plenty hot as is. Add me to that, and we'll blow minds," he added with a confident smirk, leaning closer to Dean so their shoulders brushed as he walked with him.

Dean smiled at him as he said he was glad they were on the same side now. “You know we could have went enemies to lovers too that would have been hot.” Dean chuckled as he tucked his arm in Patrick’s as they got out of the impala and headed into the resturant.

[heksery]

@himbosquad

Although it was hours before they had to go on stage, High Society was already ar the concert hall to prepare. Their instruments had been checked and for now, the musicians were checking out the stage they had to perform on later that day. Patrick O'Connor moved the mic back and forth, deciding which spot would be best, humming and singing softly.

Then the sound of footsteps approached. High Society's lead singer looked up. "You've gotta be the big act. Guilty Ones, aye?" Patrick grinned and hopped off the stage, holding out a hand. "I'm Patrick. Part of the opening act. What crimes are you guilty of?" he jested, arching a slender eyebrow. He could think of quite a few answers...

[heksery]

@pastelchosen “I mean… again, for me it makes sense, but.. shit, we’re not all that scary…” cue the soft pout. “It’s like they want us to start getting violent..”

"Oh, they do. Any excuse to take us down. But most of the hunters seem to forget that there's plenty of human monsters out there too." He sighed, wishing it wasn't so black and white in hunters' eyes. "Don't put yourself down, kid. Just because you're scary doesn't mean you're a monster."

[heksery]

Rockelle was lucky to see Pat in a crowded venue, finally someone she knew. She rushes over to him after seeing her ex who wouldnt leave her the hell alone. "Pretend to be my boyfriend, he wont leave me alone." She whispers then took a deep breath before she kisses him deeply, gently holding the back of his head.

Patrick barely has time to process what is happening: first of all, spotting Rockelle amid the crowd, then her giving him the shortest instruction ever, and before he knew it her lips were on his. Fortunately for her, his mind works quick and he's happy to provide. His arm slides around her torso as if it has always belonged there and he pulls her close. The passion she pours into the kiss surprises him but he returns it with an equal amount of depth, moving slow but confident. "I could've just cursed him," he says, smiling against her lips, when they separate for a moment. @smolcuriouskitten

[heksery]

"Hadn't we already established we're both idiots?" Patrick laughed, and at her offended look, he couldn't help but laugh even harder. "Versatile doesn't equal class, kid. You could substitute any meal with pizza as well, but there's hardly anything classy about that." Still, he loved pizza - as dinner, with a salad on the side. Not as breakfast or dessert. "Look, Reagan - if you manage to satisfy Jules, which I recommend you do not call her that when you meet her, I will down an entire bag of cheetos for dinner every day of a week. " That would be such an accomplishment that he'd happily sacrifice his diet for one week.

Absent-mindedly, he stroked his upper arm which bore scars from witch trials long ago. "I trust you. I can handle pain. You don't have to worry about that." Her direct question threw him off guard and he swallowed. "How I can use my magic? That took time… and the realization that if I didn't, he'd come back to haunt me till the end of my days. Give it time, Reagan. If you break your leg, it's not healed within an hour either." Not the natural way, at least, but alas: there was no magical way to cure the mentally ill. "Aye, ULTRA keeps their eyes on you. I might be able to slip through. Or I could let it deliver to us," he suggested. "Any proper occult store can deal with something like this from their side."

heksery​:

“Maybe I’ve been watching you since you were born and you just don’t know it.” Patrick gave her an ominous smile before he winked playfully. “Jules’ tongue is as sharp as yours. I’m not sure if she likes cheesepuffs, she’s a classy lad. I remember I made her dinner once, spaghetti something-something, and it wasn’t good enough. Though that may be because I just suck at cooking in general,” he admitted, chuckling. He suspected, however, that Reagan was just as lonely as Juliana was. They were both outcasts with their walls high up. Patrick was always willing to give people a chance to lower them (or he’d try to break through) but not everyone was as generous with their time and effort, unfortunately.

He tilted his head when she mentioned her brother being her anchor. “I’m sorr, I hadn’t considered.” He inclined his head. “You know about familiars? Animals that attend to witches? Er… I had one, once upon a time. He was my anchor.” Speaking of it was still painful. His throat tightened and every word was a struggle to get out. But considering what Reagan went through, he had a feeling she’d understand. “When I lost him… It was as if gravity didn’t work anymore. There was a black hole beneath my feet that sucked me in. It took me a long time to recover. I don’t know if I fully have,” he reluctantly admitted, voice softer than before. Then he cleared his throat. “So I don’t want to push you.” Because he understood. “Might be an occult store nearby that sells it.”

“Then you should know my brain peaked a long time ago, making you just as much of an idiot as I am,” Reagan pointed out before becoming extremely offended, “I’m sorry, did you just tell me that I’m not classy for liking cheesepuffs? Because let me tell you something, cheesepuffs are the epitome of class - not mention versatile! You can substitute any meal with them. Wow…” She trailed off, shaking her head before adding, “…I really thought no one could out-idiot the hurricane, but you are giving me a run for my complete lack of money. And hey, here’s a thought - maybe if you’d served Jules cheesepuffs instead of bad spaghetti something something, she would’ve been satisfied. Did you ever think of that?”

Reagan shook her head, “It’s okay, I’m still - I don’t know. I’m just going off of how I feel, I’m going off of how things worked in the past, I’m going off of our collision with the floor earlier… I don’t want to risk it, you know? Risk hurting you…” He then brought up familiars, and she shook her head, having no clue what he was talking about which meant she had a lot of questions. But she figured now wasn’t the time to ask, so instead she just listened as he explained they were animals that attended to witches, that he’d been his anchor, and losing him had tilted him off of his axis, too. That he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been able to right himself. “…Then how can you use your magic? And I know that. I mean, you try to push your horrible idea of classy on me and your old people terms, but I know you wouldn’t push me on something like that.” As for going to a nearby occult store, she replied, “What about ULTRA? I mean, I got us here, but… Trust me when I say they have eyes and ears everywhere.”

[heksery]

@sugaraddictedarchangel (figured for notes it's easier to separate) said: "Is this you offering to buy me one?" It seemed like Stathis definitely shared Gabriel's love of casual flirtation.

Patrick was all too willing to play that game. "Maybe. Let's go for at least two and you've got yourself a deal." He flashed a grin. "I don't mind the tight clothing as much. I find it rather suits me." With that, he gestured at his outfit of gray chinos and a pastel blue buttondown.

[heksery]

"Now this is a side of you I don't see often." Gabriel chuckled fondly, wrapping his arms loosely around Patrick's waist and humming softly. He wouldn't admit it, but he loved seeing the softer, more playful side of the usually serious and carefully controlled witch. He delighted in knowing that he got to experience Patrick's warmth, while most only got the carefully crafted mask. @sugaraddictedarchangel

Patrick clung to Gabriel like a sloth, both his arms and his legs wrapped around the archangel. He nuzzled his nose against his friend's, grinning broadly. "Aye, you're one lucky bastard that you get to see it at all," he chirped cheerfully. In Gabe's arms, he felt safe, he felt himself.

[heksery]

@smolcuriouskitten

"No because they are talking about my friends and myself and I will kick their asses if I cant use this!" She cocks it and growls. "Give me one good reason why this wont help anyone!"

Patrick steps forward and puts a hand on the shotgun while standing in front of it. "Because it only adds fuel to the fire and gives them an actual excuse to take us out," he says, meeting her gaze. "Believe me, I've been there. And it solved nothing."

[heksery]

"Can't say that I have. Is this your way of inviting me to play?" Sam asked, a playful smile gracing his fingers. After all, he did have that Winchester gutsiness in him. He wouldn't turn down a challenge. @ofwaywardsunshine

Patrick arched his eyebrows. “Would you be willing to join me?” he asked, not having expected a positive response in the slightest from the hunter. “I am definitely up for a rematch of our last play. However, if you prefer a regular game of Texas Hold 'm, do tell, yeah?

[heksery]

Patrick seemed unusually nervous. He had paid even more attention than usual to his looks, with his hair perfectly groomed and his suit immaculately clean. He'd told Eros to come here, at the nearest pier of New Orleans. Here he was, waiting impatiently while he tapped his foot and scrolled through Instagram on his phone: not that he actually read anything. @himbosquad

[heksery]

@ignisregina continued

The trouble with white shirts was when they get stained, there was no way of hiding it - the spot stands out amidst the blank backdrop, drawing one's eyes to it. Marianne told him this, warned him things might get dirty between her and her target. But white was the color of the arrogant, the vain, the untouchable. And Patrick wasn't the man she was equal parts vexed by and smitten with, if he wasn't all that. Not that said backdrop remained immaculate for long as red blossomed on Patrick's shirt, the creeping crimson now larger than his hand could cover.

Marianne felt her stomach twist painfully, not at the sight of blood but at how much of it the witch had already lost. Worried that he might keel over, she rushed to him, never mind the quaking legs or the heaving lungs, the overexertion catching up to her. She slung an arm over Patrick's shoulder, her other hand pressed over his, sticky with red, where she felt a shard of metal that made her blood run cold.

"Hey, stay with me, Patrick," the please present though unspoken as she ripped his shirt open as soon as he was seated, checking the extent of the damage. With a swift pull she dislodged from him the metal she suspected was coldiron. Not another moment was wasted, she set the fragment aflame, til its edges glowed red with warning. "You can kick me later, I promise," she said, planting a kiss on his forehead before pressing the searing metal against his wound to abate the bleeding, the smell of scorched flesh rising in the air.

Marianne had so warned him not to sport a white buttondown on this particular occassion, but he'd been bullheaded and worn it anyway. Fortunately, he had an entire array of white shirts in his wardrobe because he could throw away this one now. Deep crimson stained his side and sharp pain pierced his mind. What had happened? It had gone by so quickly that even he couldn't keep up, whereas nothing usually passed by him.

He swayed from left to right, pressing a hand to the injury. Something nasty burned and edged into his digits yet it was nothing compared to what was going on at the source of the blood gushing out of him. "I feel woozy," was all he told Marianne and she'd rushed to him immediately. He leaned against her for support. Lightheaded as he was, he couldn't form quite coherent sentences anymore. "No need - to rip shirt - you can ask - see me," he managed with a breathy laugh, which he regretted immediately. He coughed hard and more blood oozed from the wound, despite Marianne's best attempts to stop it.

She removed the object swiftly and he lost consciousness for but a second or two. Moments later, he wished he'd stayed in that endless mindset of nothingness. He didn't register her lips nor her words: all he could do was let out a bloodcurdling scream at the agonizing pain of the hot metal. It was at that moment that he slipped into unconsciousness once more, slumping against Marianne.

[heksery]

"You know what they say, it's not the size that matters." Patrick chuckled. The saying held some truth for seafaring as well: a large ship was not necessarily any safer than a small one. Bigger vessels were usually more stable but harder to manoeuvre. "So if I were, hypothetically, to ask you on a date, sailing would be a no-go?" he asked.

Leo smiled a little at his description of the ocean, oh how she’d love to hear such devotion especially her water spirits - eek, no thanks Leo thought. “You could say that, yes.” Leo replied, not that it was any fault of his own mind you, sirens are cold creatures and not just in body temperature. “Maybe, a big enough boat would make me feel more at ease in the ocean.” And that was a very big MAYBE.

[heksery]

because i miss these two dorks @waywardera

ILIANA gives way to a beat of silence, the tension in the air almost palpable. How did she come to find herself here — sat on the precipice of who she once was and the person Patrick’s friendship softened her to be?

“Don’t.” There’s a warning in her tone and though her resolve is precariously close to crumbling, she tries to keep a semblance of control. Iliana resorts to barbs. “Begging is beneath you. Do better, witch.”

She’s surprised to feel a surge of disappointment at her own words. Resentment should come easy, should be the only thing she feels towards him, but it hides now.

Or in a more accurate vein Iliana tries to ignore, it no longer lives in her.

“This is your fault, you know.”

THE REJECTION was most painful, even more so because, as she pointed out, he rarely begged. 'Please' was a word he used out of politeness, but this time it'd been truthful and honest. He needed her help and he needed it desperately or he worried his head would be off in any of the upcoming days.

The witch's dark locks fell in front of his eyes as he lowered his head: a positive thing or she might spot the disappointment in his gaze. When he raised his head, his jaw was set tight. For a moment, it seemed as if Iliana was willing to be vulnerable around him. But she destroyed that with her harsh words.Then she pointed out it was his fault.

"Do tell, how is it my fault? What exactly is my fault? That I dare open up to you and ask you for help? That a hunter is deadset on taking me down for something that happened years ago? What is my fault, Iliana?" he replied coldly.

[heksery]

@rpwithme-b​

“My name is Branoc Cynfran,” Branoc said, his back getting a little straight as he introduced himself, but it wasn’t before long before he’s slouching again to put himself closer to Patrick’s height. “I was sent to see if you can help us… Provided you are who you say you are…”

-

Patrick wasn’t intimidated by the other’s height: he knew from experience that stature didn’t tell you anything about anyone. “Branoc Cynfran. Not a name I’m familiar with. Pleasure to meet you,” Patrick remarked politely, measuring his words carefully. “I am,” he then insisted, not without pride. “Do you want me to show you my passport to prove it?” His voice was laced with sarcasm and irony.

[heksery]

@himbosquad​ (x)

“Well... It’s me. What else did you expect? I do not miss the wrinkles, however. You’re sporting a baby bum’s face - adorable.”