#world's loneliest puppy

[cacw]

puppy barnes copium

[silkwyrm]

the loneliest puppy in the world just let out a big sigh

[hauntedjpegcollection]

loneliest boy in the world

wc: 3214 au: college au ch: benny, maran

Benny had stopped enjoying parties a long time ago.

When he’d been a freshman, it was an every night sort of thing for him. Fell into a bit of a bad habit of drinking too much and barely surviving class the next morning—and school meant something to Benny. Wasn’t just a place to occupy for four years before fucking off to find some menial labor job. Which was generally expected of someone who looked like him. Class mattered, his grades mattered, staying in school mattered. The PhD mattered, getting a good job afterwards mattered.

So, he doesn’t do parties anymore, unless they’re thrown at his own apartment (still enjoys these, likes the attention more often than not) or he’s roped in because of transportation. Being the oldest of his room mates and the only one with a car that could seat more than two people, he found himself more often than not going wherever he was asked. Xavier’s big puppy eyes generally worked, if Lark’s didn’t.

It lands him at a party he doesn’t really want to be at and mostly sober—because he’s driving them all home.

“I just feel like I never see you outside class.”

He’s found a secluded hallway with Sujin, leaning against a wall, nursing a lukewarm beer in a red solo cup. The other man smiles up at him, a good five inches shorter. Benny likes the way he keeps his hair, short with bleached tips. He clearly spends more time on it than he’d want people to think, but it has the effect that all he did was scrub a hand through it and leave.

“Do y-you need to see me outside class?” Benny asks, lip’s curling into a smile that most wouldn’t consider friendly. Sujin blushes. Benny knew he would.

“Parties aren’t your thing.” Sujin fidgets with the ends of his sleeves and doesn’t look up this time.

“I like parties.” Lie. “I d-don’t like hockey players.” Truth. He gestures to the Hockey House around them; it’s sat on a long road down campus, right outside the lake that doesn’t actually freeze over fully enough for the players to play on. The house is nice enough considering so many men live there. The walls are practically moist with the number of bodies they have packed in to it for the night. They vibrate so harsh with the music it’s a surprise their framed pictures of past teams stay up on the walls.

“Did Xavier make you come out?”

Benny isn’t sure how to feel about the familiarity of the statement. He’s almost positive Xavier and Sujin have never really met, otherwise Sujin’s crush would be on Xavier instead of Benny. There’s a strange squirm in his stomach that maybe he’s talked too much and now someone knows more about him than they should; nobody should be aware that Xavier can make Benny do things with a simple, please?

But Sujin likes him. He must pay attention.

For now, anyway. He makes big eyes at him and asks about class and borrows his notes and tries texting him (Benny hardly ever actually has his phone on him to answer). And he’s sweet and attractive and they share a few things in common. Benny can imagine Sujin’s tongue piercing and how it would feel if they’d kiss. Can picture pushing up his black sweater and finding pale skin and both of them having a good time.

But it’s also an exhausting thing to picture once the daydreams end. Fitting someone into his life. Introducing them to his (much more attractive) friends. Being more reliable for communication—he’s dated before and it never ends well. People want things in relationships. Benny wants a cure for insomnia and a large cheese pizza.

Still. Sujin. He’s good—he’s nice.

“Xavier’s m-made plenty of people come out th-the closet.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sujin replies, laughing, punching Benny softly in the side. “You suck, you know that?”

Flirting feels nice. Benny smiles into it, takes a sip from his cup, watches Sujin’s eyes flicker there and then away. The tops of his pale cheekbones turn pink. He really is cute.

They talk about class, about the annoying poli-sci major that raises their hand too often. They talk about a TV show that Benny hasn’t seen. Sujin explains the pilot in detail and creeps closer with every exaggerated gesture. Lots of explosions in this TV show, lots of hand movements to follow explanations of those explosions. They talk about Benny’s car, which he didn’t realize people took such notice of. They talk about Sujin’s summer vacation plans, if he’s going to go back home for a bit. The entire time, Benny wonders when he should make a move.

“Are you coming home with us?” A new voice pipes up at the end of the hallway, cutting over the music, over their conversation and Benny’s waffling decisions on if he should kiss Sujin or not. He glances over his shoulder, finds a tiny girl with giant glasses and an annoyed expression.

“Me?” Benny points to his chest, hand still holding the now empty red solo cup.

“Ew,” the girl replies, with a scrunched nose. “You’d need a thousand showers before I let you in my apartment.”

“Mina!”

“What?” She props hands on her hips. A lanyard with far too many keychains attached to it jangles in her hand. Benny stares down at her with a bored expression and she doesn’t even flinch. Instead, her dark eyes slide around him and to Sujin. “Like, are you staying here? Are you finding a ride home? What are you doing, because I’m leaving and I drove you here.”

It clicks into place then—Sujin’s older sister, a year ahead of him and attending the same college. They had an apartment together, rather than rooming on campus, even though they were from…Benny struggles to remember where Sujin is from. His face must go through an impressive look of concentration, because Mina appears disgusted and steps away from him.

“Uh.” Sujin looks up at him.

Unfortunately, there is something so deeply hopeful in his eyes that it makes Benny’s insides curl up. A feeling of near black out inducing panic thrums across his vision for a moment. There’s an announcer inside his head—loud, comical, and horrifying—screaming, decision time, you whore! The audience laughs to trivia show music. Benny realizes too late that he’s taken far too long to say anything, while Sujin’s blush drains and his eyebrows awkwardly tilt upward.

“C’mon,” Mina huffs, darting a hand out to scoop her brother closer. “You need better taste, you know that?”

“Mina, fuck you—Oh my God.” He flicks a look over his shoulder, a clear attempt at civility, though his smile is somewhat dimmed. “Bye, Benny.”

See? See? I’m shit at this. I’m the worst at it. The fucking worst.

And though it shouldn’t be able to get any worse than missing a chance to hook up with a cute boy from class—and one he actually liked—Benny can feel a hand at his back pocket. Someone thinking they’re being sneaky and light fingered, when they are most certainly not. He waits a moment, staring at Mina and Sujin as they trek through a packed room. Then he jerks around, snatching at a wrist—hand caught right as it’s about to free his car keys of his possession.

“What are you doing?” Benny asks Maran, tone flat.

“Huh?”

He’s clearly been drinking. Maran’s cheeks get flushed when he’s been to the keg one too many times, and it’s only gotten worse since Xavier has introduced him to those fruity little cocktails that Matilda makes. His dark brown eyes are shiny, the neck of his shirt yoked, revealing the silver line of a necklace. He has a small stain on the front of his jeans, where Benny can guess a shot of liquor was spit out. Maran smiles and it has a horrifying effect on Benny’s ability to stand.

Luckily, he doesn’t collapse. Instead, he slowly leans his shoulder against the wall and stares at Maran. He smiles wider, withdrawing his hand and slowly tucking it into his own front pocket. Maran’s shoulders raise, converse sneakered feet tucking in slightly. Who me? I’m just a guy, please don’t be mad I almost stole your car keys. It makes Benny’s stomach warm in a way it shouldn’t.

“Didn’t wanna interrupt you and—” Maran’s hand raises and flaps in the direction Sujin was towed off in. His expression briefly changes to something colder. Benny is stunned, because he didn’t realize that he and Sujin had an audience. How long had Maran been standing down the hallway, waiting to approach?

It shouldn’t, but that realization makes him smile. Slowly. And a little mean. A rude curl to his mouth, blue eyes narrowing.

“Wh-What would you be interrupting?” Benny asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Maran huffs a sound, scuffing his shoe across the floor. He slowly slides it until the once white rubber tip touches Benny’s beaten up combat boot. His eyes don’t lift and meet Benny’s. They hover somewhere underneath his chin, around his arms.

“Clearly nothing, huh?”

Oh, Benny thinks, stomach warming further. You little shit.

“You think so?” He lifts his boot and presses it down over Maran’s shoe, so it can stop it’s nudging against him. Benny leans in, so they’re closer. Maran smells a little like alcohol and this sweet, boyish scent. Like he’s been using the same body spray since he was a teenager and never let it go. He radiates body heat so desirable that it hurts to be near him like this. Benny can’t imagine what Maran’s skin feels like to the touch.

“Lad clearly likes you.” Maran is a little drunk, so his accent is even thicker. Maybe a little rougher.

“I’m a likeable guy.”

“I’m not disagreein’ there, you know. Clearly, I think you’re well likeable.” There’s a hum as he sucks his teeth, rolls his eyes to the side, lifts a hand and waves it slightly. Benny follows it like a hound dog finding a bird in the sky. “Just thought his flirting could use some work.”

“Maybe you c-can give him lessons.”

“I’m not flirting with anyone,” Maran says with an indignant tone, putting a hand to his chest. His eyes flash, pretty and challenging.

“I think every girl you come across w-would think otherwise.”

“You’d have to ask them after you got over your fear of talkin’ to girls.”

It’s so unexpected, Benny bursts out with a laugh. It’s high pitched and ends with a giggle as he slaps a hand over his mouth. Someone would think Maran won the fucking lottery the way his face lights up. He inches closer, angling himself to peer up at Benny.

“Got you, Ben. What’s it all when you nail someone in checkers?”

“Chess. It’s a ch-checkmate.”

“Checkmate.” Maran flicks a finger in the air. The triumph in his dark, drunken eyes makes Benny’s chest feel tight. He breathes in nice and slow in an attempt to get oxygen to his brain but all that does is make Maran’s eyes drop to his chest again. His cheeks go dark as he leans back and slumps against the wall. Benny has an overwhelming desire to put an arm between Maran and the hockey player’s nasty wallpaper.

“Why did you want to go sit in my car?” Benny pulls his keys from his back pocket, giving them a glance. Maran doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he goes quiet and somber, linking his hands in front of himself, pushing on his stomach. He glances down at the floor, where Benny’s booted foot is still resting on top of Maran’s converses.

“Just—Drank a bit much, hey?” His nose scrunches a bit, wrinkling as he smiles ruefully. “Well, found myself a bit alone in it all. Then I was wandering and found—and anyway…Guess I wanted to find a place to just fuck off and be lonely?”

“Poor baby.” Benny huffs a laugh, his arms feeling heavy and full of desire as they unwind. “Lonely baby.”

“What?”

Benny rolls his eyes. He reaches out, taking Maran by the wrist. He can feel the boys heart beat crashing against the thin skin, vein throbbing with the pulse. He is warm. He is so fucking warm.

The keys get placed in his palm. Benny slowly closes his fingers around them.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Maran stares at him, blinking those awful, beautiful eyes.

—

The hockey house has a long, winding drive way that bleeds out onto the street. Cars line the entire way like a trail of ants. Benny had gotten a shit spot, because he’d arrived late—which was largely Lark’s fault. If he showed up to things early, it would look back for his casual attitude. Being on time was even worse. It was halfway through the party or nothing.

Benny finds his car underneath a street light, a cone of amber around it. Sometimes, the light flickers, in a strange little rhythm. On for a long moment, then stuttering in three quick successions and then on once more. Benny only knows because he’s been standing there for a long while, two water bottles in his hands. He contemplates smoking an entire cigarette before he gets into the car.

He can see Maran’s silhouette. The shape of him, in the dark. The light of his phone—or that adorable Game Boy—makes his face a light blue. It clashes with the sepia toned street light. Benny doesn’t want to think about what his heart is doing inside his chest. An hour earlier, he had been contemplating kissing Sujin. He’d thought, even briefly, about bringing him home. Back to his apartment.

Benny shakes himself all over like a dog and then swiftly shoves himself into the backseat of his car.

“Drink this.”

The water bottle gets shoved into Maran’s hand before he can disagree. With them both in the backseat, they arrange to fit better; for some reason it’s entirely natural. Maran scoots into a corner, back against the car door, one leg extended and the other dropped on the floor. Benny sits with one foot extended onto the console and the other tucked up, knee under his chin. They are tangled and close and the heat inside the car suddenly feels unbearable. He wishes he’d stopped to think about rolling the windows down before getting in.

Too late, he supposes. Not even the end of the world could pull him from this car.

Both of them are silent for a bit, sitting there and staring at each other. It isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it should be and Benny figures maybe that’s because Maran is drunk. He shifts, his leg touching Benny. Without thinking, he closes his pale palm around Maran’s ankle.

“Do you like that guy?” Maran suddenly asks, taking a healthy sip from his water bottle. The condensation on it must bother, because he wipes his palms on his jeans.

“He’s nice.” Maran’s face looks dubious. Benny snorts, uncaps his own water, takes a healthy chug. It unseats his dry tongue, thankfully. He swishes the water and takes his time swallowing. “I’m n-not a good boyfriend. Done it once or twice, d-don’t really live up to the hype.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You th-think I’d be a good boyfriend?” Benny bats his eyelashes in an exaggerated way and fucking lives for the flush that goes from Maran’s cheeks down his throat. It’s a dangerous game to play, teasing at Benji’s straight friend like this. Sometimes he can’t help it; there’s something clearly wrong with him for being so masochistic about it. What ever comes from flirting with straight boys but headaches? Only Maran is so sweet about it—so authentic. As though he really feels it, sometimes. Like he means it, when he flirts back.

“Nice, being away from the noise,” Maran says, letting himself slump sideways against the car seat. His eyes flutter close. He tucks the cold water bottle up near his neck. His chest rises and falls heavily, making Benny look there. It’s like a Victorian peeking at an ankle the way Benny’s stomach muscles clench.

“You know you don’t ha-have to come out every time Xavier asks, right?”

“Right, but he gets excited. And I like it—just lately him and Benj keep disappearin’. Fucking off and all that. And I guess that’s alright, I don’t need to be hip to hip with Benji, alright? I’ve made some friends here. And I like making new ones. I can make friends easy.”

Benny doesn’t need to be convinced. Maran has a personality that sort of moths-to-flame’s people. He’s handsome. He has an accent and American’s love accents. Benny thinks about Sujin—about how he knew bits and pieces of Benny just piecing them together from odd here and there conversations. How terrifying it was to think that Benny might have to supply more. It’s lonely, but it’s safer.

“Jesus,” Benny lets his head bang backward against the car window. “I should be drunk for this.”

“Tell me if I’m bothering you,” Maran mumbles. His foot taps against Benny’s thigh until the hand around his ankle squeezes hard.

“Don’t be a brat.” He watches Maran’s eyes go shiny and wide. Dangerous. Flirting with straight guys was always dangerous and Benny couldn’t help it. This was a straight guy he was going to indulge in. Safer, right? He sighs out his nose, squeezing Maran’s ankle once more before rolling his head to the side, leaning on the car seat as well.

“I meant I should b-be drunk for twenty questions.”

“Twenty questions?”

“You ask first.”

There’s silence between them while Maran’s drunken brain catches up. Then he’s smiling eagerly, scooting forward. He hunches over, crossing his legs underneath him, hands patting on Benny’s calf. The little tap, tap, tap drives him near to insanity. There’s a tattoo of a dagger there; he thinks Maran would like it, would look at it and peer closely and compare it to something from one of his little fantasy games he’s played with Xavier.

“Favorite color?”

“Lame. Blue.”

“That’s so vain!” Maran howls, laughing. “Blue, like your eyes?”

“Dark blue,” Benny replies, grinning despite himself. Unable to stop himself, but Jesus who could look at Maran laughing like that and not smile? “Think Nomi’s hair.”

Maran clears his throat with a fist to his mouth, shoulders shrugging a few times.

“Well, I like blue fine. Nomi’s blue, or light blue. Sort of snowy like blue? Guess snow is white, yeah, but winter blue is good—ask me, now.”

Benny could think of a thousand things, but he doesn’t rush. He settles himself in the car, slouching. It shoves his leg up underneath Maran’s crossed ones. He doesn’t seem to mind at all. The hands that had tapped furiously at him stay there. They pluck gently at black denim. Nervous or excited or both. Benny could think of a thousand things and never be satisfied, but that’s fine. He points to the water bottle and Maran dutifully drinks.

And they play the twenty questions game for far more than twenty questions.

[jakobdodson]

2022 in Music

Here is a note about the music I listened to in 2022. I hope you enjoy it!

Favorite Albums of 2022

Blue Rev - Alvvays

Banger after banger after banger on here!

Favorite Songs:

After The Earthquake

Tile By Tile

Belinda Says

Bored In Bristol

A Light For Attracting Attention - The Smile 

This is essentially a Radiohead album with a jazzy twist. Accordingly, it belongs here, among my favorites of the year. 

Favorite Songs:

Speech Bubbles

Open The Floodgates

Free In The Knowledge

Skirting On The Surface

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You - Big Thief

My most anticipated release of the year that easily surpassed my highest expectations. It explodes into several beautifully creative directions and where it could overwhelm with its ambition it tends to endear and make you smile.

Favorite Songs:

Change

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You

Flower of Blood

Red Moon

Promise Is a Pendulum

12,000 Lines

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Runners Up

Dawn FM - The Weeknd 

Once Twice Melody - Beach House

LABYRINTHITIS - Destroyer 

Ice, Planets, Lungs, Mushrooms, and Lava - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

Dripfield - Goose

Music for Animals - Nils Frahm

Liked It

Misadventures of Doomscroller - Dawes

I’m Not Sorry, I’m Just Being Me - King Hannah

Good and Green Again - Jake Xerxes Fussell

Hell on Church Street - Punch Brothers

Time Skiffs - Animal Collective

Ants from Up There - Black Country, New Road 

Humble Quest - Maren Morris

The Joy of Music - Ben Rector

The Jacket - Widowspeak

Underground Complex No. 1 - Typhoon 

Fear of the Dawn - Jack White

Omnium Gatherum - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

Giving The World Away - Hatchie 

Break Me Open - S. Carey

Romeo & Juliet - Ryan Adams

One is One - Delta Spirit

Two Ribbons - Let’s Eat Grandma

Big Time - Angel Olsen

Preacher’s Daughter - Ethel Cain

Cruel Country - Wilco

The Loneliest Time - Carly Rae Jepsen

Surrender - Maggie Rogers

Teeth Marks - S.G. Goodman 

Take It Like A Man - Amanda Shires

Sons Of - Sam Prekop & John McEntire

Chloe and the Next 20th Century - Father John Misty

Reggae Film Star - Damian Jurado

Freakout/Release - Hot Chip

Will Of The People - Muse

WE - Arcade Fire

Birds In The Ceiling - John Moreland

Profound Mysteries II - Röyksopp 

sandhills music - Ben Seretan

The Blue EP - MORE&MORE

I’m Sweating All the Time - Wormy

Heartmind - Cass McCombs

The Liar - John Fullbright

Midnights - Taylor Swift

Changes - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

Rolling Golden Holy - Bonny Light Horseman

Into the Blue - Broken Bells

I Walked With You a Ways - Plains

Laminated Denim - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

ILYSM - Wild Pink

Being Funny in a Foreign Language - The 1975

And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow - Weyes Blood

Schvitz - Vulfpeck

MUNA - MUNA

Cowboy Ballads, Pt. 1 - Jesse Tabish

Drew Winn - Drew Winn

Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven? - Tyler Childers

Blue Skies - Dehd

Harry’s House - Harry Styles

Ali - Vieux Farka & Khruangbin

Meh

Quitters - Christian Lee Huston

Chris - Ryan Adams

Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers - Kendrick Lamar

Plonk - Huerco S.

Palomino - First Aid Kit

Alpha Zulu - Phoenix

God Save the Animals - Alex G

No Rules Sandy - Sylvan Esso

Not from 2022

Ram - Paul McCartney, Linda McCartney 

Plum - Widowspeak

Tago Mago - CAN

Ege Bamyasi - CAN

Night Moves - Bob Seger

Dots & Loops - Stereolab

Haven’t Listened Yet...

ForeverEverAndEverNoMore - Brian Eno

Empire Central - Snarky Puppy

Björk - Fossora

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Cool It Down

FM - Ryan Adams 

Entering Heaven Alive - Jack White

V I N C E N T - FKJ

Inside Problems - Andrew Bird

Kumoyo Island - Kikagaku Moyo

Dropout Boogie - The Black Keys

Headful of Sugar - Sunflower Bean

Everything Was Beautiful - Spritualized

Electricity- Ibibio Sound Machine

(watch my moves) - Kurt Vile

You Belong There - Daniel Rossen 

El Mirador - Calexico

Unlimited Love - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Things Are Great - Band of Horses

caroline - caroline

Pompeii - Cate Le Bon

The Dream - alt-j

Anaïs Mitchell - Anaïs Mitchell

Laurel Hell - Mitski 

Silver Sash - Wovenhand

Concerts Attended in 2022:

The War on Drugs - Cains Ballroom - Tulsa, OK - 6/4/22

John Fullbright - Fassler Hall - Tulsa, OK - 10/2/22

Spoon - Austin City Limits - Austin, TX - 10/9/22

Goose - Austin City Limits - Austin, TX - 10/9/22

Kacey Musgraves - Austin City Limits - Austin, TX - 10/9/22

Luke Combs - Paycom Center - Oklahoma City, OK - 12/9/22

The Book of Mormon - Eugene O’Neill Theatre - New York, NY - 12/21/22

Links to past lists:

10 Albums that changed my life

2012

2013

2014 

2015

2016

2017 

2018

2019 

2020 

2021 

_________________________________________________

Happy Listening!

Jake

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Okay so I’ve become a Seonrok stan and this parallel may have done 80% of the work.

Because yes, Hwi and Seonho have known each other since childhood (insert drama cliche) and they are always going to be each other’s dear person and my precious muffins together—BUT. I can’t discount how Hwi changed his mind real fast and decided Seonho was his enemy based on things other people said and what was a lie from Seonho about his sister’s death (side note: sweetie, you’ve known Seonho since you were seven and you still can’t tell when he’s really badly lying? Your pure puppyness is working against you). Now, if someone I thought of as a brother told me that my sister died as an indirect result of their actions, I would have a really hard time trying to think clearly about it, and I get that we the audience understand Seonho’s actions and decision to send him to the army to protect him from certain death only because we the audience have access to knowledge that Hwi doesn’t have yet.

And his emotional response, the all-or-nothingness, is part of what makes Hwi a hero: his inability to separate from his emotions makes him sympathetic to the suffering of others, but here it’s what prevents him from pausing enough to consider alternatives to the narrative being constructed for him. It’s also part of his flaw: his sense of righteousness that at its worst can become self-righteousness. As time goes on, he does improve at this, and I do give him credit—Hwi was coming from an emotional place and not doing a whole lot of critical thinking about what may have caused all of his anguish, and still his instinct is generally to protect or at least look out for Seonho except for the time right before this gif where he tried to stab him to death and that time where he hides the prince’s armory which could have led to Seonho’s execution, and that’s a testament to his goodness and his memories of when they were young and innocent and loved each other more than almost anything.

And that’s the same reason I stan SeonRok. Because he met Seonho at his worst and lowest moment, in a burning house, and saw something in this wounded boy (emotionally due to Hwi, physically due to Sungrok himself lol) that made him decide to follow him. He sees over and over that Seonho pushes people away and makes bad choices based on emotion himself, and he stays with Seonho. Fights for him. Critiques him while staying respectful, which no one else does. Sasses him like the BAMF he is. We love to see their dynamic and Sungrok’s complete lack of fucks to give.

Moreover, it’s what Seonho needs in this harsh world he inhabits: a no-bullshit, unconditionally supportive presence who doesn’t judge him and doesn’t fall for his dramatic nonsense. Hwi is capable of snekness the same way Seonho is, but he somehow balks at seeing it (perhaps because this is his childhood friend). Tbh my favorite moment in their bond comes when Hwi later acknowledges (in a really powerful scene that shows why we love this puppy) that he has been too blinded by his own emotions to understand Seonho’s. Sungrok’s emotions are a “still waters” situation—probably only Seonho can read him, and we know so little of his story. We do know that he cares less about allegiance to a country or commander than he does about a cause that he considers worthy. He sees Seonho’s darkest, loneliest moment and considers him worthy.

Look. I just. Could we not have had a soft epilogue for them? They could travel, Seonho would love that and Sungrok would be content to be with him. Hwi and Seonho could still meet up, they can still be close, but Seonho needs someone good in his life who isn’t so tightly bound to a shared traumatic history, someone who gives him the kind of pushback he needs. Sungrok calls him master when explaining why he won’t leave in this gif, but we know that line blurred and fizzled out years ago.

(Side note: I fully LOVE how much Sungrok dislikes Hwi. And I love Hwi—everyone does, even 90% of his enemies. It’s just hilarious and almost right somehow that there is this one (1) person in the world who adores Seonho and just regards Hwi with disdain and maybe a little jealousy).

You better survive. Stop whining.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Matthew Daddario

full name: Dane Keanu Byers

nickname(s) / goes by: D, Byers

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man

sexuality: bisexual

birth date: July 4, 1991

birth place: Honolulu, Hawaii

arrival to merrock: July 9, 2022

housing: a small house on the Coast & Pier

occupation: car seller and mechanic

work place: NA.

family: broke off all ties with his parents

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

Despite his puppy eyes and his charming smile, Dane is not someone you can trust. Used to making his own path into this world, he is resourceful and clever, but he is also selfish, thinking about his own interests before anyone else’s. When he gets closer to someone, it is always hard to know if he is genuine or if he is trying to get something out of the relationship. But despite those bad sides, Dane remains the life of the party, always down for shenanigans.

WRITTEN BY: Ana (she/her), gmt.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: alcoholism tw, abuse tw, toxic relationship tw.

Born from an Italian mother and an American father, Dane grew up near the water. Soothing by the sound of the sea, the young boy had no issue making a place for himself in the world, creating some strong friendships and idealizing his life in Honolulu, knowing that this was the best place in the world and the only location he could ever live in.

But at the age of 12, he had to move. As his father got a new job opportunity on the East coast, the whole family had to leave the island in order to head to the mainlander part of the US. Such a big change in his life combined to puberty created a new Dane, less inclined to obey his parents – with whom he already had some issues – and more focused on doing stupid things. They did not know it back then, but what was supposed to be a positive change in the Byers life turned into the beginning of a nightmare. As the teenager was doing his best to make his parents pay for the move, the father became more and more addicted to alcohol. His job opportunity was not as great as he thought it would be, but the family had spent their entire savings to make the move from the island to the East coast, making Dane’s father turn towards his bottles in desperation. While the one-glass per day slowly turned into more as the months went by, the dad changed, too. He couldn’t bear critics nor remarks, he couldn’t bear his teenage son calling him a coward and a loser. Dane still remembers those late nights. He still remembers the fights and the abuse he would suffer, his father making sure that he would find in this dynamic the power he had lost in his job even though it meant hurting his own child.

At the age of 18, the male escaped from his messy family by taking a job as a mechanic in a garage nearby. That is where he met Grant, a fifty-something who put enough faith in Dane to let him repair his vintage car. Happy with the result, the older male started to recommend the mechanic to his friends, allowing the younger man to create a network. Building a life of his own, Dane started traveling through the East coast, wherever someone would need him to rebuild their car until he eventually started to sell them, too. In his hands, a vintage car could get a second life and he could make dollars out of it.

But everything was not safe in his hands. Dane’s charming smile was a trap and he became one to Vivienne. She was beautiful, wild, younger… and naive. With her, he felt free. With her, he felt powerful. For the first time, he was not the one being submissive. For once, he was the one with power, the one in charge. Dane fell for her for the wrong reasons, unable to see that he was toxic to the girl. He could only see the benefits he was getting from this relationship, convinced that she was on the same wavelength. And yet, there was no doubt in his mind when things went south and Vivienne got arrested. Dane had too much to lose. He sacrificed his girlfriend.

Feeling guilty about it in his loneliest nights, the male went back to his life, expanding his network and making a name for himself. Eventually, a new job offer came to him. Someone needed his skills in Merrock, Viv’s hometown. And although the money was big, knowing that his ex-girlfriend might be there was another good reason to accept the deal.

[dollxthoughts]

No, you will never be unknown or strange to me.

If I never see you again, you still won’t be unknown to me

Because the knowing of you can’t be undone

After every single mannerism and little noise and short phrase, after every shift in the tone of your voice, after every night spent listening to your breathing, there is yet another permanent change in me

Yet another candle lit to bring another knowing of you

The joy it gives me is not something I can hold, so I can’t give it back to you. It’s the kind of happiness that lives in between everything else. It exists in my loneliest and saddest moments, that is when I remember

Exactly how you throw your head back in laughter when something is truly hilarious.

The way you dance a little to fill the silence.

How you sound when you’re truly angry.

Your hatred for leaving the warmth of your bed.

Your tenderness when you’re sleepy.

Upon remembering, I feel content for a moment

Even though I’ll never know everything, even though the world is collapsing, even though I feel the plates of me shifting underfoot,

I know you. I know the sound of your yawn. I know you like the back of my hand, like a best friend, like a puppy, I know you in the loving, awe-stricken way I always wished to be known, and it makes me forget all my wishes.

[catty-words]

[michaelgeary]

it  was  probably  for  the  best  that  michael  hadn't  yet  lost  interest  and  decided  to  start  a  cult  instead  of  following  the  catholic  church  .  if  he  had  stepped  outside  and  decided  to  become  the  leader  of  a  new  mission  ,  there  was  no  doubt  that  he  was  born  blessed  with  the  good  looks  and  persuasive  tongue  that  would  accumulate  a  following  in  no  time  .  throughout  history  ,  beautiful  people  had  used  what  was  given  to  them  by  nature  for  all  the  wrong  reasons  and  michael  was  no  exception  to  that  rule  .  he  had  used  his  charms  and  physical  beauty  to  his  advantage  but  also  admired  himself  far  too  much  despite  his  new  claims  of  modesty  .  his  attention  is  turned  to  sabine  ,  focus  warm  and  caring  ,  eye  contact  that  could  make  you  feel  drawn  into  a  loving  embrace  (  yet  ,  just  as  quickly  ,  michael  could  make  you  feel  like  the  loneliest  person  in  the  world  when  he  turned  his  back  on  you  )  .  "  you  can  sit  next  to  me  but  i  can't  believe  that  you  won't  play  …  "  fingers  dance  on  keys  for  a  little  while  longer  ,  the  tune  melodic  and  curated  as  it  fills  the  room  ,  not  quite  drowning  out  the  tense  conversations  around  but  this  was  michael's  world  .  there  ,  on  that  piano  ,  whoever  sat  beside  him  was  in  his  universe  where  everything  would  be  all  right  as  long  as  they  had  faith  .  the  corners  of  his  lips  still  tilted  upwards  in  pleasantries  as  he  comes  to  a  halt  ,  "  won't  you  play  a  note  ?  for  me  ,  sabine  ?  "  addressed  with  that  puppy  dog  look  ,  the  same  one  that  had  skirted  him  through  his  high  school  years  .  he  always  seemed  so  harmless  until  it  was  all  going  wrong  with  him  standing  on  the  outskirts  .  now  ,  god  is  obviously  guiding  him  so  he  should  be  trusted  …  right  ?

        while  sabine  wasn’t  particularly  pleased  to  be  locked  in  at  st  marys,  with  a  shit  ton  of  her  former  classmates  at  that,  she  wasn’t  one  to  break  under  pressure.  instead,  she  simply  continued  on  performing  –   remaining  calm,  seemingly  unaffected,  though  worried  for  others  of  course.  sometimes,  even  she  couldn’t  tell  what  of  her  kind  heart  was  real  and  what  of  it  was  put  on  for  show.  and  the  moment  michael  sat  down  and  began  to  play  the  piano,  sabine  wondered  if  she  could  high  tail  it  to  the  restrooms  and  stay  there  the  rest  of  the  night  without  anyone  noticing.  she’d  heard,  much  like  everyone  else  surely,  that  michael  geary  had  turned  into  some  kind  of  religious  zealot.  if  someone  in  high  school  had  told  her  that  he’d  become  a  bible  thumper  she  thinks  she  would’ve  scoffed;  and  yet…   sabine  had  never  had  much  interest  in  religion  herself.  it  was  deemed  unimportant  by  her  father,  who  refused  to  worship  false  gods  as  he  was  too  busy  making  himself  one,  and  sabine  had  doubted  that  a  god  could  be  out  there  if  this  was  their  sick  idea  of  a  privileged  life.  not  even  to  speak  on  those  who  had  less,  those  who  had  nothing.  if  god  was  real,  how  cruel,  how  barbaric,  a  being  they  were.  still,  when  asked  about  religion,  sabine  would  always  simply  play  nice  and  slowly  but  surely  change  the  subject.  and,  apparently,  her  thought  process  had  taken  too  long  as  michael  had  now  spoken  directly  to  her,  and  while  running  away  was  a  choice  –   it  wasn’t  what  sabine  did.  instead,  she  sat  next  to  the  man,  a  boy  immature  and  unruly  she’d  once  known,  and  replied;     “  ah,  i  don’t  really  play  anymore.  ”     left  unsaid,  she  hasn’t  touched  a  piano  since  high  school.  she’s  out  of  practice,  imperfect.     “  but  you  should  continue  on,  it’s  lovely.  i’m  sure  people  appreciate  the  calming  music.  i  do.  i’ll  sit  here,  if  that’s  alright,  get  a  better  listen.  ”     she  wonders  if  anyone  would  notice,  too,  if  she  simply  slit  her  own  throat  with  a  broken  wine  glass,  letting  her  blood  fill  the  cracks  in  the  floor  of  the  great  hall.

[bauliya]

where’s my sambucky fic where sam and bucky are trying to be wingmen to steve but he’s so hopeless that they just end up giving up and fucking each other 

[samstree]

how about 'void' for the word prompts??

Creatures of the Night (3)

Geralt goes to the coast alone after Jaskier marries Valdo. He can't escape the past. Or rather, Jaskier can't escape him.

(endgame geraskier, background valdo/jaskier, angst, eventual infidelity, implied depression)

AO3 | Previous: [1] [2]

The coast smells of fish and seaweed.

It’s not unpleasant if one admires it from a distance, like watching a sunset from the grassy cliff or dipping toes into the water a little. The coast is mild and vast, the calmest part of the continent.

Geralt embraces the sea, letting the scent of candles and jasmine fade from his nostrils. It’s been too long, months already. Too long for him to cling to that scent and that night. He needs it gone from memory.

He fails.

The smell of fish and seaweed and blood is everywhere when Geralt emerges from the waves, a sea serpent’s head in hand and an apology by his lips. The villagers sigh in silent acceptance. They knew the fishermen were beyond saving anyway. Still, he ignores the gash on his arm and grieves with them for a moment.

He forgets, just for a moment.

Dripping a bloody trail up the shore, Geralt nods to each family member of the lost men. By the end of the line, he meets brown eyes and golden hair, a lopsided hat and a fur-lined cloak.

Valdo Marx.

Geralt drops the head, his arm tingling with blood loss.

“You are a hard man to find, White Wolf.”

The cold wind ruffles Valdo’s hair, tangling up his fashionable curls. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes that Geralt doesn’t like. Yes, bards can be just as dangerous; Geralt has learned a long time ago.

“And what brings you to me?” he asks, meeting the other’s man’s gaze.

“I believe you already know.”

Geralt nearly wavers.

“Do I?”

“You left early that night. At the handfasting.” Valdo paces around Geralt, who’s only realizing the other bard stands a tad taller than him albeit having a much slenderer build.

“It was a long party.”

“You were bored by the most important party of your best friend’s life?”

Bards. Must they speak in circles all the time?

“What are you saying, Marx?”

Valdo’s footsteps halt in place, the danger in his eyes burning anew. “I know what you said to him.”

In his long life, Geralt rarely feels shame so heavy. He breaks eye contact with the other man, fists clenching before settling by his sides. Perhaps this is where he loses Jaskier completely. Running away to the coast isn’t enough. This is where he needs to promise to never see Jaskier again and let him live a peaceful life with his husband. Geralt opens his mouth to make the promise, except—

“I know what you said to Julian on the mountain, how you broke his heart. I was the one who had to pick up the pieces.” The bard clenches his jaw, breathing deep. “The state he was in, I swore to myself that I would never live to see it happen again. Seeing him hurt once is enough, and yet…”

“What?” The implication makes Geralt’s stomach sink. “Is Jaskier alri—”

“You don’t get to ask me if he’s alright.” Valdo steps into Geralt’s space. Somehow, a troubadour almost makes a witcher cower under his fury. “You drove him away, and then you dared to come back. You behave like he’s a puppy to summon at your whim and then kick out once you tire of his bark.”

“I don’t—”

“You said something to him that night. Essi told me so, and Julian hasn’t been the same since. He deflected my questions and defended you, but one can only guess. Was wishing for destiny to take him off your hands not enough? Did you have to come all the way back to his side just to drive in the knife?”

“No, of cour—”

“Don’t play dumb with me, witcher! What did you say to him that night?”

“Nothing!” Geralt bites out the words. A lie. “I didn’t say anything.”

No wonder Jaskier wants to protect this man. Geralt can see it now, the devotion of Valdo Marx, archnemesis of Jaskier the bard for twenty years. And yet, Valdo was the one to offer him a shoulder to cry on when he was shunned by Geralt, a supposed friend for twenty years.

“Forgive me if I find it hard to believe. Historically, you shouldn’t be trusted when it comes to Julian’s heart.” Valdo’s heat is dying down into disgruntled acceptance.

“Just tell me if Jaskier is alright.”

Geralt is so close to begging.

He just might. For Jaskier. Again.

“You want to know? What, do you care?” Valdo scoffs. “No, he is not! He went down the same path soon after. If anything, it’s only worse now. Last time he cried and cursed, tried to drown himself in wine. But at least there was something. But for the past months…he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t speak. There’s nothing when I look at him. Nothing. Only a void.”

The waves rumble in the distance, lapping at the shore. The coast can’t erase the anguish poisoning Geralt’s every thought either. Not when he’s inadvertently hurt Jaskier.

His love hurt Jaskier.

“If it wasn’t you, perhaps…” Valdo says reluctantly, watching a seabird pass by. “It wasn’t easy to convince him to come, even though he always dreamed about the coast back when we were young, romanticized it in so many songs like a fool. But when I heard you were here, I had to come and find you, and leaving him alone in this state wasn’t an option.”

Geralt wants to flee like the coward he is, but the hope fluttering in his stomach is a powerful thing. “He is here?”

“He’s here. And if you indeed didn’t cause him any harm, Geralt of Rivia, I loathe admitting that you might be my last hope. The relationship between you two is something I’ve never understood, but even I can’t deny you’ve known him in a way no one else could.”

Geralt can’t believe the words he’s hearing, words he doesn’t deserve.

“You are asking me to…help?”

“To speak to him. If you still care about him in any way. “Funny I came here not sure whether to strangle you for hurting the man I love or beg you to save him.”

The bard turns to leave, his coat flapping. Geralt pauses for a moment before following.

He needs to fix it. If his confession sent Jaskier into a downward spiral, Geralt needs to fix it somehow. He can stop loving Jaskier. Yes, he can stop so Jaskier can finally be free of him. It’ll only feel like ripping his heart out of his chest. He’d stop, even if it kills him.

“It was never my intention to hurt Jaskier.”

Defending himself in front of Valdo is a moot point, and the mock from the troubadour is an answer enough.

“It’s what he believes too. The idiot is kind and terrible like this,” Valdo sends one last look at Geralt before they begin the ascend, the silent threat looming in his brown gaze. “Try anything like the mountain again, there won’t be anything left of you for the fish to eat.”

And Geralt is wise enough to believe that.

The two miles he walks behind Valdo stretches into infinity, and at the same time, nothing at all.

On top of the cliff, Jaskier’s silhouette stands straight, frozen in place like a statue, or the loneliest painting on earth. Geralt can only see his back, but he can already tell Jaskier is too thin. He doesn’t even stir when Valdo drapes the coat around his shoulders and coaxes him out of the trance.

And then, Jaskier is turning around, cheeks pale and eyes so blue.

Geralt’s world begins and ends at the same time.

~~

Thanks for the prompt my dear! <3 I wonder how many people are team Valdo... Hmm.

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[veryvincible]

⭐Time, Space, Flesh

Oooh!

So, this was a fic written for someone else, but that's almost not the most relevant thing to mention because of how easily it flowed and how close to my tastes it already was. I don't write much perfectly happy, soft stuff, but I am a sucker for bittersweet romance, and it just so happened that the likes of the person I wrote this for were really well-aligned with that.

One thing I noticed when reading Bullet Points was how softened Tony's whole demeanor seemed to be. I hold 616 Tony's strength, assertiveness, and gentle kindness in my heart as the superior combination of traits for the Tony Stark of my dreams, but man, Bullet Points Tony really just seemed... like a sweetheart, I guess.

I mean--

And, when Tony gently argues--

And the thing to mention here is that I never really felt like he was soft in the "aw, he was just born with a little heart of gold and a puppy demeanor" kind of sense. I feel like he's soft in a really, really melancholic way. He's volunteering himself for the Iron Man program knowing well what condition his body is in, knowing what it'll do to him. It feels like he's desperate for a chance to do good at the cost of himself, and that's just a perfect Tony sentiment, isn't it?

It's reflected again in the finale of Bullet Points, alongside some classic Steve admiration.

And it's just heartbreaking. I mean, we know what kind of struggles he's had his whole life in 616, and we know how Steve played a role in those. We know how grounding Steve was for him in so many cases, how he looked up to Steve even when Steve fucked up, even when Steve fucked up with him specifically. He's standing here, ready to kill himself for the good of the world, probably thinking it'll be better off if he dies in this battle anyway, and he's talking about Steve Rogers. A stranger to him.

I had to bring Tony up first, because I think Tony's loss of his connection with Steve specifically really provides a perfect set-up to talk about Steve's loss here.

Steve gets the usual origin story. He's the dying boy provided with a perfect opportunity to do basically what Tony wants to do-- to give himself up for the sake of the greater good. They have different mindsets about this, of course, but that's the gist of it. Steve wanted to do good, he got to do good.

But this Steve has a folly not unlike that of his 616 counterpart, which is, well, being kind of married to his job. And, sure, he works with people he's friendly with, and from his conversations with Reed, he's probably close enough with coworkers to grab a drink or something on weekends.

He just doesn't have a home. He doesn't have his team, but more specifically, he doesn't have Tony. In my interpretation of the text, at least, he feels like one of the loneliest Steves, like one of the Steves who feels the effects of that loneliest the hardest-- especially since his job is actively wearing on his body, destroying him.

And, again, it's heartbreaking that in his moments of exhaustion, he's looking to Iron Man like 616 Steve would look to Tony. Except Tony's not there.

They narrowly missed meeting each other in time, but the whole way through, they still so clearly felt the ramifications of not having one another.

It's terribly bittersweet, and it felt like the perfect foundation for an equally bittersweet romance, for the question of "What if they met, felt from the start that there was something cosmically intertwining them, and still had to cope with the fact that, realistically, they'd probably end up alone once everything was said and done?"

And from there blossomed the WWII-era story that put Tony in the right place and time for Steve to find him, and the wrong place for them to stay together. Steve would have to leave to fight and potentially die. Travel was limited. Communication was limited.

With that in mind, I did have a lot more for this story planned. I could say that I decided to cut it out just because I thought it'd be better with the more vague ending (which, by the way, wasn't as hopeful in the original notes), but I actually had just been laboring over the fic for quite a while and wanted to get it to a satisfying point so I could leave it for a bit. Since it was a gift with a very vague deadline, though, I didn't want to banish it to the "to be picked up in an uncertain number of months/years" WIP pile, so I just went ahead and posted it after making the necessary edits to make it a full and cohesive story.

... But instead of spoiling all of what I had planned, so I can keep the future open for actually writing all of it and getting it up as a little sequel someday, I'll just leave you with this snippet I had in my notes for the rest of the story that never was:

Had Steve seen Tony’s name on the side of the guns his men were manned with? Had he heard through the grapevine what Tony Stark had done, the kind of man Tony turned out to be? Had he seen Tony’s face in papers past, on posters, in interviews? Did Steve even remember him? Would Tony have preferred for him to forget? How the fuck could he pick the phone up, now? Steve had been standing on that— that stage in front of the whole world, had been awarded and praised for the good work he’d done, had lived an entire life and had so much more life to live on top of that, and Tony had done nothing. Tony was nothing. He'd never believe Steve’s sore eyes would find him to be the sight to sooth them; the thought alone would have been laughable if not for how terribly rotten it felt. He never tended to hate himself so loudly. It was always quiet, creeping under his skin and invading the empty cavities in his chest. It lived inside of him, stole away what little life he’d been allowed to keep. He didn’t tend to hate himself loudly, but it was deafening then, this realization that the fantasy of a long-lost lover he’d been keeping to preserve his own sanity had been little more than a pipe dream all this time. He’d justified it to himself, convinced himself it was just realistic enough to let himself hope for. But it wasn’t. Their paths weren’t intertwined. They weren’t meant to meet again. Their meeting was a blip in Steve’s life, a night of relief and little more. It was Tony’s high, his peak, the one thing in the world strong enough to deepen the echoing chasm of isolation at Tony’s core when all was said and done. Steve got better, in the end. Tony got worse. They didn’t grow together— couldn’t. Instead, they drifted, farther and farther away, and Tony had deluded himself into thinking that Steve was only a brush of a fingertip away from coming back to him someday.

[official-weasley]

Headcanon time! (Part 3)

So @am-i-space and I have been talking about dragons (as one normally does on a Sunday afternoon) and of course, our imagination went wild! Now, we know that our dragon lover works in Romania and we have learned about a few species (even seen a few of them in movies without Charlie but okay let's not discuss that here) of dragons but like, let's face it there are more!

The second I have learned about other schools and that they have dragons guarding the vaults in Gringotts I had a HC that the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary isn't the only one!

I can see one being in Canada, somewhere high up in the mountains and the same goes for South America. Of course, one would also be somewhere in the Himalayas. And let's face it the breeds we have all grown to love aren't the only ones!

Of course, Charles Weasley agrees with us 110% and after working in the Sanctuary for 10-15 years he takes a bit of a breather (not from dragons, of course) and travels the world in the hopes to see as many of them as he can. He borrows dad's camera (the one Bill got for him in my other HC where they go and see alpacas) and he starts his adventure.

So, let's start with the sea! I agree with @am-i-space like what do we know about oceans, really? Bloody nothing, that's what! So they proposed that there are water dragons and I am 100% on board with that. Just imagine them swimming around, ever so gracefully, blowing bubbles when they breathe! And they would have the most beautiful scales which would reflect in the sun ranging from dark green to purple and blue and even though they are BIG they are friendly and swim with the dolphins and communicate with whales.

Nobody will convince me that when Charlie goes to observe this beautiful behavior and hears the water dragons sing their mating song for the first time he doesn't cry his eyes out because he can swear that he has never heard such a beautiful sound before and would never get tired of it and is honestly thinking about moving in the middle of the ocean so he could wake up to those sounds every morning.

The next stop on his journey would be to find out if the rumors about ice dragons are true. Charlie, as smart as he is, knew that the most probable location to see if they are real would be the Himalayas. So he wrote to the Himalayan Sanctuary to stay there for a couple of weeks to explore in peace. The dragonologists he talked to there all said that they have given up hope to see one and that despite the rumors that they are hiding one in their reserve they had to disappoint him because they don't have it.

So Charlie put on the hat, the scarf, and the gloves (he knitted himself thank you very much!) and headed out, determined that he will find the ice dragon!

After about a week of hiking and his muscles aching, he began to lose hope to see one. He knew that he would need more time and that he would be ridiculously lucky to see one in such a short amount of time but he also knew that he has to take care of himself and put his health first so he headed back.

A day in, he heard something that sounded like a cry for help. It was in dangerous territory and he probably shouldn't go there but it really sounded like a baby dragon and there won't be a day in his life where Charlie Weasley wouldn't help a dragon in need.

He gasped when he came to the spot the cries were coming from. He saw something white and silver move in a huge pile of snow which looked like an aftermath of an avalanche. He hurried to see what was making the sounds and if the creature was okay at once.

The second he started to remove the snow around the creature he knew he has found one - an ice dragon! The baby dragon was frightened and looked at Charlie with appreciative eyes when he picked him up and started to look around to where this little guy could come from.

He remembered that baby dragons are really good at finding their way back to their mothers so once he brought the cub to safety he put him down and observed his behavior.

When his little ice friend stopped being disoriented he started crying again and howling toward the nearby mountain.

"Of course!" Charlie pressed his hand on his forehead and shook his head. Of course, the reason he couldn't find an ice dragon before, was because they live on the highest loneliest peeks.

Charlie was looking up at the one in front of him, thinking how in the bloody hell is he supposed to get up there with all his gear, tired muscles, and a baby dragon to top it all off!

Then he remembered that while it might not be humanly possible, a bit of magic could do the trick! He gently tied the little guy to his bag and took out his wand. He walked to the bottom of the mountain and then he cast the levitation charm on himself.

Every time he saw a platform that looked stable enough to stand on he stopped to take a few breaths and see how his friend was doing. The higher they got the more cheerful the little one got and Charlie knew they were getting closer.

Charlie put his wand away when they landed in front of what looked like a cave. Charlie gently untied the dragon and put him on the ground. The dragon let out the cutest little roar that made Charlie's heart melt and the ground beneath them started to shake.

Charlie gulped and didn't find his idea to return the dragon back home smart anymore when a gigantic version of his white-silver friend appeared in front of him. The dragon mother looked mad but cautious. The cub ran to her - trying his hardest to fly - and started making purring noises. The ice dragon momma sniffed her baby and then sniffed Charlie which was the coldest breath he has ever felt on his skin.

After she was done, he ushered her cub inside, and with a wiggle of his tail at Charlie, his ice friend disappeared inside the cave. Once his mother made sure he was safe, she turned back to Charlie and roared right in his face.

Charlie, who was used to dragons do that every day back in Romania, didn't even blink. His calm composure impressed the ice dragon and she carefully turned around and lowered herself to the ground.

Charlie knew what she was doing but still couldn't believe it! The dragon is going to let him fly on her! He was only so lucky 2 times with the dragons in the Sanctuary and they knew him for years and this one was just patiently waiting for him to get ready as if he was here every day.

The second Charlie stroked the cold silver scales on her back, the dragon started fluttering her wings, and before Charlie had a chance to gasp they were in the air - making a full circle around the dragon's home and then slowly losing altitude until they were at the bottom of the mountain.

Charlie thanked the dragon and apologized for not having anything for her to eat while the ice mother replied with breathing icy cold air straight into Charlie's face. He was observing her flying back up to her cub and he knew that he could take a picture of her but since nobody knew they were here and were probably pretty rare he decided to just keep the memory of the experience close to his heart and returned to the Sanctuary.

The last stop of his - so far absolute epic adventure - was the Sanctuary in South America which was hidden deep in the Andes mountain range. There he met a few very exotic species of dragons who reminded him a lot of the Welsh Greens he took after in Romania except that these were of all sorts of colors from red to violet.

After the tour of the reserve, 2 of the Dragonologists took him to what looked like a highly protected and secluded habitat and told him that they only share this information with other dragonologists.

Charlie was excited to see what they are hiding but he wasn't prepared for what he saw once they got there. It was a storm dragon - sky blue with a white mane.

"But I thought they were extinct." Was all Charlie managed to say before approaching the beautiful creature to fully take in what was resting in front of him.

The two dragonologists told him that he is the last of its kind and that he must be protected at all costs until his very last breath which hopefully the day that happens is still very very far away.

Charlie's 2 new friends allowed him to spend a few hours with the mighty beast and as he was sitting there, studying it, Charlie couldn't believe that all his dreams were coming true.

The next day when he was having dinner in a nearby restaurant he heard some of the locals there whisper about a creature called el chupacabra. He has heard of the creature before - mostly when he read Muggle folklore. However, these people weren't describing a dog-like creature. No! It sounded like they were talking about dragons except that they described the creature as fairly small and surely no breed of a dragon is that small?

Because this information didn't allow Charles Weasley the dragon lover (not obsessor, only lover) to sleep at night he decided to venture into the Amazonian rainforest and see the creature for himself.

He was only walking for 5 hours this time around when he heard unusual squeaking noises. They led him to a meadow that appeared to be empty at first. Because he was parched, he sat down at the edge of it, took off his backpack, drank some water, and unwrapped a sandwich he prepared in the morning.

The second the smell of his delicious meal spread he saw a few heads poke out of the tall grass. Charlie couldn't believe his eyes! They were dragons and the locals were right - they were so small! More and more dragons started to approach him and at this point, Charlie started to think he was in heaven because this was too good to be true.

They appeared to be friendly and awfully playful. He was also in awe by their size as some were as small as crup puppies while the biggest was about to his waist in height.

Charlie had no choice but to share his sandwich for which he was rewarded with licks and wiggling tails. These dragons didn't breathe fire as Charlie expected but big puffs of air that soothed him in this Amazonian heat. They came in all sorts of colors from different hues of green and brown and some were even yellow and orange.

They were absolutely beautiful and even though they had the structure of most dragons there was something about them that Charlie couldn't wrap his mind about. He narrowed his eyes and observed one for solid 5 minutes before he figured it out.

They had a fluffball of hair on the top of their heads making them the only breed Charlie has ever laid his eyes on to have fur and it made them extra adorable!

He spent the rest of his afternoon chasing and playing with the fluffs (as he called them) and because he was having so much fun he forgot about the time, making him almost spend the night in the jungle.

As he was returning he couldn't stop the smile that was spreading from one of his ears to the other as he deemed his adventure more than successful and he couldn't wait to take another breather like this because he is sure that there are even more breeds out there to see and admire!

[lamortexiii]

The Hellbilly Pulpit: The Hellbilly Poet Commences

`HELL-o all!

I’m @hellbillyvvitch and I’m here to engulf you with my love of poetry and prose. I am however a realist. There are no sunshine and rainbows, nor puppy-dog love to be found in my writing. I cut myself to the bone, bleeding out thoughts and feelings. I will take you to the darkest, loneliest corners of my mind sharing my thoughts and feelings, leaving nothing sacred.

My little corner of the blog “The HellBilly Pulpit” will be about the influences of religion, music, art, mental illness, society at large, and 

what I take away from the world’s treatment of all of these, and how this Appalachian Hellbilly comes to terms.

I started out writing lyrics for some of the trash punk/metal bands that I was in back in my youth and over the years it has become a part of me. A place to release my internal anguish, misery, and frustration. And with the way that 2020/2021 has unfolded, I was given a chance to review who I am and where I truly want to go with my writing future.

What I’ve learned is you will always be evolving. It’s never too late to learn something new. Don’t be afraid to bleed on your page. Be you. Be real. Be honest. Be art.

I hope you enjoy what I have to offer. I hope it entertains and gets you to think about the bigger picture that surrounds you.

I look forward to what comes next. Ava Satanis! Talk to you soon H.B.VV

Make sure to follow the blog for updates: https://lamortexiii.tumblr.com

The Hellbilly Pulpit Blog by @hellbillyvvitch @thehellbillypulpit

www.LaMorteXiii.com Attitude is Everything.

[long-cosmos-overhead]

Hi there I love your writing!! Could you do a Jack sparrow headcannon where the reader and him break up but with some fluff at the end? Thank you 💙

Yeah sure

(I do not own potc or it’s characters)

The break up would probably be messy, heated and downright scary for anyone that could hear or see it go down you both yell and scream and toss things around in anger

It’s most likely due to Jack not wanting to lose you since it would kill him inside to know he was somewhat responsible should something happen to you or he would be afraid of the feelings he had grown for you he genuinely loved you so much and it scared him

Jack began pushing you away more and more until it felt like you were two strangers on the same ship and it really hurt you tried so much to make amends for whatever you did but no matter how hard you tried he always brushed you off. You didn’t get it

You confronted him on his behaviour and Jack not wanting to reveal how much he cared for you tried brushing it off again but you kept pressing until he snapped that’s when it all happened

He shouted you shouted and the deeper it got the more hurtful words came flying from both ends by the time the ordeal was coming to an end there were broken bottles, dented wood and bruised knuckles from taking out your anger on objects

Both of you especially Jack would rather die before laying a hand wrong on the other no one was hurt on account of the other

Jack knew he had gone well too far when you said ‘I’m leaving drop me off at the next port and never come back’ his blood ran cold and he swore he’d never felt his chest seize so painfully the one thing he never wanted to lose was walking away from him

He didn’t say anything just grabbed a bottle of rum and walked off back to what was your shared cabin

It was the coldest loneliest night he had ever spent in what was supposed to be the best part of the ship he took so much pride in

Jack would never admit it but this was exactly what he feared he missed you, he missed you so dreadfully and it was only one night he missed laying with you, having your head on his chest, the kisses he missed you being with him, for once he had no idea what to do

You cried a lot, that night you slept down with the crew some offered you pitiful smiles, others pretended nothing was wrong and a few set up a hammock for you but no matter how hard the crew tried they did feel some ounce of sympathy listening to you try and stifle your tears

Jack was definitely not going to drop you off on the next port instead he went back to his cabin and moped around for ages far exceeding his alcohol tolerance that night but even with all the rum in the world he couldn’t rid of the coldness that came when he tried to sleep

It sounds bad but if you want it to resolve you’ll have to be the one to invoke a response Jack is far too proud but most of all he doesn’t want to admit how he truly feels he doesn’t know what it would mean for both of you and it scares him

You’d be sat at the front of the ship looking over the the sea at night Jack had been watching you ever since you left and his compass had been spinning wildly until stopping on you every time

Jack would feel like he was playing with fire when he sat down a few feet apart from you and for a while no one said anything until you muttered “I want to stay.”

That’s when he finally mustered up the courage to move a little closer and even more courage when didn’t do anything to stop him, then he began to slowly tell you why he distanced himself

He told you how he was scared of losing you and his feeling for you were far far deeper than he thought and he wants nothing more than to be with you but he doesn’t know anything about having an actually relationship or why he’s feeling the way he is

At the start his words were jumbled and he sounded like a lost puppy but gradually the words began to flow and you learnt far more about how he really felt about you and it melted your heart

Your heart melted even more when he said “it was cold without you love.” And you turned to hug him Jack was needless to say taken by surprise but he couldn’t remember the last time you were in his arms and in return he hugged you back tighter

The night grew old and you had dozed off in his lap his fingers combed through your hair and his eyes didn’t want to leave your form. He knew now how lucky he was to have you

At some point he carried you back to his cabin placing you in bed resting on his chest with his arms snaked around your waist finally able to sleep without that awful cold feeling

In the morning you woke up and almost immediately Jacks lips were on yours giving you a kiss so gentle you almost felt as if you were still dreaming. He muttered a soft “forgive me” only to kiss you with much more passion and force when you told him he was already forgiven

[rewritexthestarz]

Nia Winters’ Family 

Nia’s family is divided into two parts. This bit of family came as a surprise to her. She doesn’t have much family that actually knows that she’s family so she’s surprisingly built a found family. 

Antonia Winters - Mother. Her mother doesn’t know about her. Or at least based upon the history of her life she was made to believe that she was crazy and that she had no child thanks to the coven when she was younger. 

Richard Hastings - Father. Richard has warped Nia’s sense of reality. She doesn’t realize that all he’s told her is untrue. She believes that he’s been nothing short of forthcoming and doing the best with all he had, as he villainized the coven and how she sees her siblings. 

Alex Markovna - Best Friend. Alex saved Nia in a moment in her life when she she was ready to give up. In a world she’d come to know as cold and uncaring, he showed kindness to a stranger, and continued to visit her to make sure she was okay even when he didn’t have to. 

Vada Owens - Best Friend. Vada is more like a sister to her than she’d ever imagined she would be. She and Remi give her a sense of normalcy that she never had before. She gets a sense of what family is truly like when she spends time with her and she has a fiercely protective nature when it comes to Vada. 

Agatha - Kitten. Nia adores her kitten Agatha. The cat is a ball of energy, feisty and always jumping on her. They often fake fight on the daily. 

Anakin - Familiar/Puppy. Even at her loneliest, she’s had Anakin at her side and she felt less alone. Throughout everything in her life she can count on Anakin to always be there with her.