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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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alicnblues​
location: juni’s apartment
closed for luc devereaux [ @hallelujahtohell ]
Juni tilted her head back, lying across the bed and watching Luc across the room. She grew lazy and feline when they were alone like this, stretching out across the crisp sheets and arching her back enough to feel her lower spine pop lightly. She rolled over, propping her chin up in one hand and reaching the other one up to twist a strand of her hair around her index finger. She said nothing for a moment—she was comfortable in silence—but with a million thoughts constantly turning over in her head, it was only a matter of time until she sparked some conversation that felt more like going down the rabbit hole.
“If you were the murderer, you would tell me, right?” she asked, her brow pinching lightly. She had been more and more distrustful of the people around her the more the stakes raised in town. Tensions were rising; she could feel her own anxiety raising too, and she was starting to consider that she should be more careful about who she spent her time with. 
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the question didn’t catch him off guard, as it wasn’t the first time he’d ever been asked that. he considered his answer carefully, his words always guarded and careful. “no, i don’t think i would.” he shrugged, staring down at the ink on his arms to avoid her eyes. most of his tattoos had been done in prison, reflections of the thoughts he hadn’t been able to escape. however, this was probably the exact opposite of the right thing to say, and he knew it. he moved to stand back at the end of the bed, his smile casual and he let his eyes enjoy the view. his jeans were slung loosely over his arm and his shirt was god-knows-where, leaving him in just his boxers. “i mean, i wouldn’t be a good killer if i went around telling people, now would i?”
there had always been rumours about luc’s involvement with the murders, given his history, but the truth was, he couldn’t. he could put his girls at risk like that. “but you don’t have to worry about being one of my victims. you’re far too beautiful.” he teased, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. he could tell her worries were deep, though, and let his cocky, playful grin fade into a soft smile. “i promise, i have never killed anyone.”
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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rebelsrebels​
@hallelujahtohell​
There were lots of things that were wildly different about moving from Seattle to Shrike Heights, but one of the many things Delilah really missed was the people watching - it was different in a small town then a city, where you might see someone once and then never again. Here, she knew too many people to make up fake stories about their lives. 
There was always the question, of course, of who among all the people who she saw in the mall every day, or around town, might be one of the killers - but she tried not to think of that. She had no intention of trying to be a detective. 
Honestly, it made her try a little harder not to look at people the way she had before, but sometimes she couldn’t help it - like the boy who worked at the theater, who she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen without a camcorder in his hand. What was his deal, anyway? 
There was really only one way to find out, though. Taking one last drink from her soda, and tossing the cup in the trash, she made her way across the food court. 
“Y’know, f I was making a movie,  I’d probably set it somewhere more interesting than the mall.” She said. “But that might just me, I don’t know.”
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despite the fact that aramis believed filmmaking was one of the highest forms of art, he still felt embarrassed every time someone called him out on his constant recording. he hadn’t actually begun working on his movie, most of his footage being background shots he hoped to use one day. in new york, nobody cared. everyone kept to themselves and usually didn’t notice his camera. but shrike was such a small town and he hardly did anything else these days, so it was only a matter of time before someone questioned him. he lowered the camera from in front of his face with a sheepish smile. “i’m filming background and filler shots instead of doing any actual work on my movie.” he admitted, feeling self-conscious as he placed the camera carefully on the table. it was one of his most prized possessions, a gift from his father the only time they ever met. sure, there were newer and fancier ones, but aramis had payed a fortune to keep this one running throughout his clumsy youth.
“where do you think i should set it?“ he asked with genuine curiosity. he always welcomed insight on his productions, knowing the more minds that worked on it would only mean a better outcome. pushing the camera away, he pulled out his tattered, scribble-filled notebook, flipping it open to the start of this movie’s chapter. “here. this is what i’ve got for like…a mood board. it’s supposed to be a modern day retelling of sleepy hollow.” his eyes were alight with excitement and passion, as there was no denying that behind a camera is exactly where aramis was supposed to be.
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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@alicnblues
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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{ @alicnblues​ } 
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seeing more than two of their sisters cooperating was a terrifying sight. all older than them except one, they could instantly relate to whatever poor soul was cowering behind the wall of noam girls. running their fingers through their hair with an exasperated sigh, they approached slowly. “girls, c’mon. i thought we were going to late ris--?” his tone was bordering on whining but died in his throat when the girls parted. perhaps he should have been flattered, the way they had descended on his ex like vultures, but he could only focus on em. ezra felt like a teenager again, staring at em’s front door after their parents slammed it in their face. chest aching with rejection and longing, they smothered the urge to turn and run. instead, they just flashed em their biggest, most charming smile. “em, so nice to see you again.” em knew them well enough to see the truth in their eyes, but at least their sisters wouldn’t see them weak. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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alicnblues​
location: outside creepie’s bar
closed for henry locke [ @hallelujahtohell​ ]
felix hadn’t seen anyone from his younger years—especially the years spent in the army—in a very long time. it was uncommon for them to land up in shrike, most people from his youth having grown up and moved away. it was the way he liked it, to be honest, because he hated the thought of being compared to his younger self. it was daunting, trying to live up to the person he used to be. he always thought that person was better, more special, more interesting than the person he ended up being.
he limped out of the bar, rummaging around in his pockets for a cigarette, though his current state of drunkenness had made it exceedingly difficult for him to find anything (even though he really only had four pockets he kept stuff in). he just hoped he hadn’t lost his wallet, though that was a problem for future him, not current him. he almost didn’t see the other man walking by, but there was something—the hairs on the back of his neck raising, or perhaps a slight twist in his gut—that made him look up. when he saw who it was, he froze, and for a good minute, he didn’t say anything.
finally, mouth agape, he went to tap the other man on the shoulder. “gandhi? holy fuck, is that you?”
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there was a brief moment where locke genuinely wondered if he was hallucinating. he hadn’t heard that name, that voice, in years. his shoulders tightened instantly as he turned, expecting the worst. he’d gained the nickname during the war, his comrades always impressed by his never-ending temper and penchant for violence. it served him well later in life, but set him up for trouble with his mates. but there, in front of him, was a lanky, equally-greying man with an all-too-familiar wide-eyed expression. “beans?” he choked out in shock, sure his expression matched the others. felix and locke had been through hell and back together, and to meet in this tiny shithole was surreal. they had been young men once, full of piss and vinegar, thinking they could end the war themselves. while he’d never fully recovered from the war, he’d carried his squadmates in his heart. 
once the initial shock passed and he deduced that he wasn’t, in fact, hallucinating, his limbs were moving almost of their own accord. his large arms swung up to clamp the skinnier man into a tight hug. “beanie boy, holy fuck.” locke couldn’t wrap his head around the coincidence of it all, but as felix had once been one of his closest friends, he couldn’t find it in him to question it. he pulled away for a second, taking a step back to look his friend over head-to-toe. “my god, beanpole. look at you. you haven’t aged a day. you must still get carded.” he beamed, remembering the days they’d sneak off to the bars. locke had been underage when he enlisted, and had the worst fake id. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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{ @retrocuts }
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despite how badly their time in los angeles went for them, ezra appreciated the support nick had given them. and even moreso, the fact that nick let them back into his life as if their freindship had never known distance. of course, it wasn’t really nick’s friendship that had guided ezra home after the terrifying conclusion of their western antics. they couldn’t--and wouldn’t--deny that they still had feelings, knowing that the relationship ended on their part only due to the distance. they flicked the butt of their cigarette and crushed it under their boot before shoving their frozen hands into the pockets of their unreasonably expensive coat. it had been a gift, probably, although ezra couldn’t really remember. 
it wasn’t the first time they’d seen nick in the morning, before work. more a morning person than anything else, ezra like to open the shop. there was a calm peacefulness in setting up his station without any interference. although that wasn’t the reason that they stepped up their pace into a light jog, crossing the parking lot easily and falling into step beside their best-friend-turned-ex. “good morning, handsome. ready for another day?” his flirting was shameless, but hopefully not unwelcome. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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alicnblues​
location: their family home
closed for vik [ @hallelujahtohell​ ]
When Arjun opened the door to find Vik there, they immediately started speaking in Hindi, if only to keep their skills sharp. Generally, when they were home, they didn’t speak much English at all, though when Arjun and Vik were on their own, it was more often than not a healthy mix of both. “Ma-Bap ne maine kam se bhulaiya—” Arjun launched into a too-long story about how their parents had called him home from work that day for no better reason than to reach a top shelf—as if it couldn’t wait until he had gotten home—and it had completely wrecked the flow of Arjun’s day, which they took seriously. 
If Arjun kept talking, kept filling any awkward silence or pause with meaningless words, then they could pretend that everything was as it used to be. It killed their parents to see their sons so distant from each other, so Arjun made every effort to put up a front that they were still as close as they had been once—though that time had been so long ago that Arjun couldn’t even remember it. It didn’t even matter then, as their parents had already gone to bed and this was strictly a I need to check on you periodically type of visit, enforced by Arjun. Still, Arjun couldn’t bear the thought of even leaving space for broaching anything more serious, lest it devolve into an argument. Arjun knew it would. His mind felt like the pressure cooker cooling on their parents’ stove. 
While their parents didn’t fully know what happened, past Arjun going to bring Vik home, Arjun remembered it all vividly—hence his enforcing check-ins. They remembered the phone call, the way their heart sank when they heard what happened. They remembered how frantically they had tossed a few clothes in a bag and scraped together their meager savings to buy a plane ticket. They remembered feeling so overwhelmed on the flight that they had locked themself in the bathroom to burst into heaving sobs. And they remembered feeling constantly on the verge of sheer panic as they sat at Vik’s bedside waiting for him to wake up. Vik didn’t know any of that. Neither did their parents. 
Arjun held all the family pain.
He walked into the kitchen to pick up the glass of whiskey he had already been drinking, stolen sips from a bottle he kept hidden from their strict parents. Arjun was sure other people thought he was too old to be living at home—hell, he thought it too, sometimes—but their parents were old now, and someone had to take care of them. It had always been Arjun’s job, and he was sure it would be for the next decade. It didn’t matter. He’d steal his vices where he could get them. 
“Anyway, bhai,” Arjun said, pouring Vik a couple fingers of whiskey into a mug—because all they had in the goddamn house were mugs. “That’s enough about my shitty day.” 
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part of viknan hated having to check in with his brother regularly. it made him feel like a child, constantly having to account for his whereabouts. it hadn’t been easy growing up with indian parents, and a hundred times as a child he’d wished for a less-strict home. the majority of vik was resigned in the knowledge that he had done everything in his power to deserve this. at the time, it had felt like his only way out. he had been trapped and desperate, thinking only of escaping and not of everyone else in his life who would be left behind. and whether it was luck or fate that arjun had been the one to answer the call, vik would be forever grateful. while most of the check-ins since his return had been uneventful, he found himself unable to meet his brother’s eye tonight, finding anything else to look at while he listened intently. 
he had been doing well, feeling stronger, even hopeful. he had made a friend at work and she made his days so much brighter. he carried it with him until his apartment door shut behind him and he was alone again with his demons. they had vicious claws and spoke in the voice of his ex, reminding him just why nobody could ever love him. the scars on his arms ached with memories he was desperate to forget. the nights alone tore away at him, and he found himself missing the years he and rosa had spent together. most of it had been bad, but the good times were good, and he longed to feel that kind of happiness again. the loneliness brought the dark thoughts back, haunting him. night after night, he stared at the ceiling, thinking of ways to succeed this time. over and over until he could no longer keep his eyes open.
he took the drink that was offered, turning the mug around in his hands a few times before taking a long sip. as his brother’s story came to an end, he once again felt guilty for trapping them in this life. “i’m sorry. i’ve been trying to convince them to call me instead, but you know mother.” he flashed them a soft, sympathetic smile. if only arjun knew how sorry he really was for everything between them. but words failed him every time. nothing he could say would ease the gap between them, separated by viknan’s mistakes. he leaned against the counter, staring out into the empty house, hoping the whiskey would scare away the shadows in his eyes just long enough for him to get through this without damaging his relationship with arjun further. 
he felt like a failure for still feeling this way, after arjun had given up so much to protect him. the logical part of his brain knew that it wasn’t his fault, that it was a combination of trauma and messed up chemicals in his brain, but that didn’t mean others would understand. he opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, pressing his lips together tightly as he tried to think of something, anything, to say. “what do we think about the beard?” he asked honestly, scratching at the thick hair he’d grown on his face since the breakup. his ex had hated facial hair, so he grew it out of spite, but he actually kind of liked the look. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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alicnblues
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bowen generally was up pretty late at night, even when her dad had been in bed upstairs for hours, and that night was no different, with bowen spending the late night hours watching reruns of black and white movies on the small tv in her father’s living room. bowen had been struggling with sleep for months now—ever since she had come to shrike heights, if she was being honest—and it was a battle every night to get her mind to quiet down. that was probably why she and aramis had grown so close so quickly; both of them could rely on the other to be awake and active in the late night hours. she wasn’t surprised by the sound of knocking on the door, and she stood up close to it, pressing her ear against the door to listen for whoever was on the other side before pulling back to open the door. she gave him the warmest smile she could muster—things had been pretty bleak since the events of the 27th, and she found it hard to be her usual bubbly self in the face of it all. she reached an arm out to wrap around his shoulders and draw him in and kick the door shut behind her. “you want tea? or something a little stronger?”
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he met her smile with a weak one of his own, although it comforted him to see the same unease in her eyes. at least they weren’t alone. he opened his mouth to answer her question, but closed it again after a second. tea might help warm his hands, but had already done nothing to ease the chill in his bones. “uhm, y-yeah, stronger. please.” he replied sheepishly. he wasn’t much of a drinker, admittedly, but maybe it would help calm his nerves. he stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping bowen couldn’t see the way they shook. “i’m glad you’re up. i hope i didn’t wake you.” he felt kind of silly now, for showing up at her house so late at night. her neighbours would surely talk, although the truth was far more innocent and friendly than their rumours would likely suggest. instinctively, he glanced at the window, as if they were all lined up with their faces pressed against the glass to watch what happened inside. their faces morphed into those of the memorials around town and he forced himself to look away. “i just can’t seem to settle down anymore.’ 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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oliver jackson-cohen, asexual, nonbinary + they/he ― hey look, it’s ezra noam! they’re thirty-four years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for thirty-four years, and they’re currently working at skin deep. i heard they’re pretty restless, but i think they’re so charming at the same time. can they make it out alive? || jackjack 
{ tw: drugs/addiction, overdose }
BASIC INFORMATION
Full Name: ezra joseph gerard noam
Nickname(s): ez, ezzy
Age: thirty-four
Date of Birth: september 8
Hometown: shrike heights, usa
Current Location: shrike heights, usa
Gender: nonbinary
Pronouns: they/he
Orientation: panromantic asexual
Relationship Status: single
Occupation: works at skin deep
BIOGRAPHY
{ tw: drugs/addiction } being the second-youngest of ten siblings and the only son did not equate to an easy childhood. desperate for attention from wherever they could get it from, ezra learned young how to turn to the wrong people. the trouble was fun but the drugs were better. the drugs eased the turmoil inside them, at first helping them focus but then ensuring they didn’t care if they were focused or not. there wasn’t a substance they didn’t abuse, claiming it only enhanced their art, levelling them with the masters. see, it was always a well-known fact that ezra would grow up to be a tattoo artist. they were drawing constantly, both on their own skin and everyone who would allow them . and as ezra likes to say, “every good artist has their flaws”. 
their parents thought “wilderness therapy” would help them and their wild ways. he believes that they genuinely thought they were trying to help, but the horrors them and their campmates--including their first love--faced were everything but helpful. he refuses to talk about what happened there, but carries it on their back like atlas. they thought leaving the camp would be the best thing to happen to them, but their friends had either dropped them or tried to drag them back into trouble. and he had been unceremoniously dumped by the one person they’d thought they were actually enough for. not even dumped. ghosted. like they meant nothing.
{ tw: addiction } reeling from the rejection, ezra quit art completely. they got a job delivering pizzas and stopped fighting the urge to slip back into their old habits. their hands itched to create but their brain was desperate to think of anything but their broken heart. it took time for them to fall in love again, and it’s wasn’t surprising that they’d found love again with the one friend they had left in the world. he was good to ezra, better than they deserved. they really believed they could be happy again, as long as he didn’t know he was still using. they knew it was wrong, that his boyfriend deserved better than a reckless, miserable addict. instead of quitting though, they ran. they were offered the opportunity to apprentice under a legendary artist in los angeles. the split was amicable, and ezra carried their love with them to los angeles.
{ tw: addiction, overdose } la was bad for them. their addiction ran rampant, fueled by a lavish party lifestyle at the hands of their fashionable new friends. it was the beginning of the end, reaching it’s peak when he overdosed. his parents immediately put him in a rehab program back home in colorado, but it took him a little longer to get the courage to return to shrike heights, but now that he was finally, actually clean, maybe his relationships didn’t have to be quite so doomed. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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idris elba, demisexual, cismale + he/him ― hey look, it’s henry locke! they’re fourty-four years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for one year, and they’re currently working at stitch by stitch. i heard they’re pretty aloof, but i think they’re so devoted at the same time. can they make it out alive? || jackjack
{ tw: war, ptsd }
BASIC INFORMATION
Full Name: henry john locke 
Nickname(s): if you call him anything but locke, he’ll punch you
Age: fourty-four
Date of Birth: january 17
Hometown: chicago, usa
Current Location: shrike heights, usa
Gender: male
Pronouns: he/him
Orientation: demisexual
Relationship Status: engaged
Occupation: works at stitch by stitch
BIOGRAPHY
locke is not a good man, and never has been. he’d only ever really cared about his grandmother, who raised him, until her death while he was in still high school. he graduated, barely, and arrived at boot camp the next day. he’d always known he was going to enlist as soon as he could, and the loss of his grandmother had removed any hesitation he’d carried. he was an angry, rebellious kid, angry at the world and everyone in it. he had almost been excited to see action. to fight. fighting was all he’d known. he’d been small and scrappy pre-puberty, struggling from selective mutism and with a temper and childish invincibility, and had to learn to protect himself. and in the military, he could use that. violence was all he was good for.
{ tw: war, ptsd } he served three and a half years in the vietnam war and came back a different man. the young, impulsive idiot was gone. in his place was a shellshocked ticking time bomb. the night terrors and constant paranoia destroyed any chance he could ever have at a normal life. people thanked him for fighting, for killing. he couldn’t look at people anymore, instead turning to violence and crime to pay his bills. lying, cheating, stealing, whatever he could. the underground fight club was particularly fun. he was good at it, too. kicking ass. he could take a punch and give it twofold. he often raked in a decent amount of money from the fights and it let him work out his constant aggression. a perfect job for the world’s worst man. 
there’s no doubt that locke would have continued down the wrong path until it killed him, had he not got his ass kicked at just the right time. he had won the fight, of course, almost completely undefeated, but his opponent had done some damage to his pretty face. he’d live, but the boss wanted him to see the new doctor and get checked out, just in case. their eyes met and that was it for locke. he didn’t care about anything in his life but her. it was instant and fierce and hasn’t faltered once in the years since. to the world, they were struggling, but to locke, he’d never been happier. 
locke had always had an eye for fashion, and dreamed of the luxury he wished he could provide for his sweet girl. the dresses he would put her in, show her off for the world to see. he had no money, but he had two hands and basic sewing skills from the military. it was a disaster at first, but then, slowly, it wasn’t. it was a strange passion, but she supported him unfailingly. when she asked him to run away with him, the words had barely left her mouth and he was packing. there had never been anything for him in new york, it was just a faceless city he chose because he couldn’t return to chicago. he hates shrike with a passion and wants to take his sweet girl as far away from the serial killers as possible, but she’s happy and he’s devoted. 
{ tw: ptsd } locke can be easily recognized by the perfectly-tailored suits he dons to work every day, but any image of sophistication his wardrobe might bring is shattered as soon as he opens his mouth. he can also almost always be seen with roger, the puppy he adopted to help with his ptsd.
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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“now that’s truly just cruel,” fletcher replied, shoving luc lightly with his shoulder. he raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. “honestly, i would expect more of them to run at the thought of kids. but then again, that might just be me. i run for just about goddamn anything.” fletcher was self aware, at least, though not aware enough to actually stop the behavior—just enough to know that he was a piece of shit when it came to most of the relationships he had been in and he probably should be on his own for a while and work some things out if he ever wanted to STOP being shit in relationships. this was all neither here nor there, anyway, since fletcher hadn’t even been considering anyone in town in a romantic manner; he was too narrow-minded in his focus, in his hunt for his mother. he hadn’t thought about her in years before coming to shrike heights, and now, she was the focus of every moment he could spare. “i’d try and offer advice, but my experience with kids starts and ends with being the fun stranger.” he paused. “and, i guess, being a youth pastor for my dad, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.”
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“mmm, but have you seen me? i’ve got the beautiful brooding bad boy on lock, add the heart of gold and a soft spot for the most beautiful twins in the world? i’m perfect.” aside from the whole death-row stint, that was. “that is definitely just you and that’s called commitment issues, mate. you might wanna get that looked at.” he grinned in open defiance of the hypocrisy of that statement, knowing he was just as avoidant of love as his friend. however, among fletcher’s many, many flaws, being bad with kids was not one of them. at least, not with the twins. “maybe seeing you will help, you were always her favourite.” it wasn’t a lie, the twins adored him, especially evie. he wasn’t surprised though, his mother--her namesake--would have adored fletcher too. it was hard not to. he was unabashedly his own person, and luc kinda envied him for it.
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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ianfm​
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Ian hadn’t expected to receive a bad reaction from Aramis when he gave him the gift but he hadn’t thought he’d receive such a big reaction either. It made him feel a mix of excitement and embarrassment and it resulted in Ian’s cheeks turning a shade of pink he wished they didn’t. What was the least awkward way to accept appreciation? Despite how often Ian gave gifts he’d yet to figure that out. He found himself looking at his feet finding it easier to talk that way when he already didn’t know what to say. “It’s nothing really,” he began instantly downplaying the gesture. “You’re always giving me free popcorn and stuff. It feels like the least I can do,” he explained. Aramis had saved him a whole lot more money in free popcorn than the cost of the gadget. He had no problem paying back the kind gesture. He didn’t have anything to barter more properly for the butter goodness so tokens like this would have to surfice. 
He was glad the conversation drifted away from the gift fairly quickly. Making small talk about the movies was more preferred than the gift despite how excited he was to finally have the item it’s rightful hands. It was one of the few presents he had yet to hand out this holiday season and the last bit of “Christmas cheer” to leave him. “Kids movies, obviously., duh I forgot about those,” he admitted. If the kids that hung out at High Scores were the same kids that went to the movies he was sure the place would look like a tornado had hit. “I’m sure kids are have even more buttery fingers than someone who’s scared. I feel like the kids that hang around this mall are just sticky in general though. The arcade’s always sticky too.”
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“the kids in this mall are the worst.” aramis wasn’t really one to complain, especially since he was really only working to fill his time. he did, however, take personal exception to the pathetic excuse for childrearing in shrike heights. “they just...dump their soda. everywhere. floor, seats, each other. i spent two hours cleaning the seats the other week because a birthday party thought it would be fun to throw their drinks everywhere. i know i was raised in the theatre, but basic etiquette should not be that difficult. it’s appalling.” he was grumbling, but his mood didn’t sour much. he knew ian could sympathize with his struggles. 
aramis had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and often struggled to recognize that privilege. he had been raised with a deep respect for the arts and the venues that hosted them, and often swore that he would raise his future children better than those that made his job so difficult, failing to acknowledge the fact that their parents were probably overworked and exhausted, two feelings he’d never really known. “dramas are usually the best for cleaning up after themselves. they’re mostly boring adults, but boring adults with manners.” 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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it was strange to get any sort of attention when he was drinking alone—sometimes he’d get a drink sent to him by some aging, lonely gay, and he’d accept it with the requisite bashfulness, perhaps even go home with them, but that was a once in a blue moon sort of occurrence. it was what he thought had happened that evening as he sat at the bar, but when the bartender pointed out who it was that had sent the drink, he couldn’t help but make his way over, beer in hand. he put the beer, as of yet untouched, on the bar between them. he leaned against the bar, interlacing his fingers lightly. “what gives?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at luc. “you sure this was meant for me?” he recognized luc, of course, from around town—and he was certain luc’s parents had warned him against interacting with felix, as most parents in town had been wont to do for a good chunk of felix’s life. 
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sending women drinks at the bar always worked. the mysterious tattooed hottie at the end of the bar was a popular fantasy for the women of this town, it seemed, and he’d never struggled with finding company. but for a fraction of a second, the older man hesitated, and luc wondered if he’d made a mistake. felix approached, apprehension written clear across his face, and luc couldn’t help but chuckle. “i’m not trying to poison you, if that’s what you think.” he teased with a crooked grin. he probably shouldn’t joke about poisoning felix considering the wild tales of luc’s youth, but he doubted felix would pay much mind to the rumours about luc. “i’m luc, by the way.” he held his hand out for the older man to shake before kicking himself mentally. it was a habit, politeness overcoming logic. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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alicnblues
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anjali didn’t try to play favorites with her various patients, but there were a few who had managed to steal a spot in that cold, cautious heart of hers, and phoenix was one of them. she admired how upbeat and resilient he was, and moreover, he always managed to elicit a laugh out of her, even on the busiest and most swamped days at the clinic. anjali was sitting behind the counter finishing up some paperwork when phoenix walked up, and she looked up at him with her charming, patient-facing smile. “happy monday, mr. white,” she replied, standing up and taking a moment to look him over. “i don’t know, we might have to slow you down. you might get too handsome, and then the lovely people of shrike heights won’t stand a chance.” she gestured for him to follow. “come on kid, you know the drill. bloodwork, stabbing, the whole nine yards.”
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“oh c’mon, doc, don’t ruin my fun. they have to do something to keep their minds off of the craziness, why can’t they do me?” he teased with a wink. he had, of course, attempted to flirt with the beautiful doctor at first, but found quickly that it was wasted effort, and instead has grown to admire her as an ally. he let his expression sink into a playful pout, never having been a fan of the bloodwork. “are you sure we can’t we skip the extra needles just this once?” he whined, as he did every week. “i’m perfect in every way, we already know this.” maybe if whining wouldn’t work, his most charming smile would. (it never has before) however he trusted the doctor with his life, and would dutifully sit as she poked and prodded and ran all the tests because as miserable as all the needles made him, it was better than the alternative. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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urdamage​
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               bo somehow found himself lucky enough to be on good terms with most of his exes , honestly , however luck was something that he felt incredibly separated from currently . he wasn’t thinking of those who had remained in his life or those who had left after something like a bad breakup ; instead , all bo could think of was how thankful he was that ian was still here , and how desperately he needed to keep his partner in his life . this time was incredibly difficult for bo - easily harder than the period of time where he was recovering from his own attack - but people like po being there to offer support was something that worked to make the horrendous time a little easier on him . 
po caught them at a time where ian was sleeping , which would have worried bo if he didn’t know the medication would keep him out no matter what happened around him , and which might have annoyed bo if his stomach didn’t hurt from hunger pains . being so dedicated to caring for his partner , bo was neglecting his own needs more than usual . “ hey , ” he spoke in a whisper and he stood from the seat next to ian , meeting po at the door . his face read exhaustion and misery , but his expression was a little lighter upon seeing the other man . “ thanks , you didn’t have to do that . ” he didn’t have to , bo was right , but bo was beyond thankful and appreciative that he had . “ he’s sleeping right now , but the medication knocks him out pretty good . ” he explained , not wanting po to worry about being a disturbance - especially not wanting him to worry when he had been so helpful .
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phoenix had never really been a good boyfriend to anyone. he was, without a doubt, a selfish prick. he’d never really had to worry about anyone. his life had always been easy for him. not perfect, but easy. but just seeing the exhaustion evident on bo’s face filled him with a wave of guilt. he couldn’t imagine sitting for hours at someone’s bedside. at least, he told himself it was guilt. he could handle guilt. he was a dick, unintentionally, and often offended people without meaning. guilt was a regular occurrence. the deeply-rooted longing that threatened to grip his heart was not. he’d never loved someone that deeply and had never been loved as much in return. even when bo was attacked, po had sent flowers and stopped by for a quick visit, but he hadn’t had the urge to sit for ages and pray to some non-existent diety to spare his life. he was happy for bo, in a way, but jealous for sure. 
“i know i didn’t, but i also know what you’re like when you’re stressed and...well, you’re not exactly the best at taking proper care of yourself at the best of times.” he couldn’t manage more than the barest smile, but he meant well by the comment. “there’s plenty here for ian too, when he wakes up. i don’t know what he likes so there’s a bit of everything. hospital food fucking sucks. almost like the cooks gave up on your survival before the doctors did.” that was probably the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t take it back now. 
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hallelujahtohell · 2 years
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urdamage​
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               jupiter had always been extremely expressive with his body ; he was always moving , always fidgeting , always gesturing as he spoke , the kind of person who would initiate physical contact and physical intimacy with those he trusted who he knew wouldn’t mind . when he was in a bad mood or not doing too well jupiter would be stationary , withdrawn , curled up and made small - but that was far from the jupiter who was reuniting with aramis there in the nearly closed mall . his hands stayed on the other’s shoulders as he spoke , though by the time he finished speaking about his movie his hands had slid down to his elbows . “ you’re filming a movie ? and you didn’t cast me to be your leading man ? ” he laughed - clearly joking but showing that to the other as he lightly nudged his arm while the laughter sounded . “ that’s amazing , i can’t believe you’re here of all places . ” he was having a hard time wrapping his head around his thoughts ; the only thoughts that made sense were thoughts of his happiness in seeing aramis and the thought that this must be fate , bringing them back together . he felt a giddy excitement just thinking about it .
“ you’d be surprised , actually . it was a mystery that lead me here . i was following the path of someone in a case i was trying to dig into and they had stopped here for at least a week - so i did too . but then that week was far more enjoyable and a lot more interesting in new ways than i could have imagined . very different from new york , or even london , but i liked it . so here i’ve been . ” he shrugged his shoulders , a wide smile on his face . “ i’m doing more than just living out my own little scooby doo fantasy here , of course . i’m working at angel’s - and town hall , but mostly angel’s . ” he was clearly comfortable with aramis - why wouldn’t he be ? - so he didn’t hesitate at all to fill him in on the details of his life . but soon his speech grew quieter , his eyes fixed on the other’s familiar features ; admittedly , he began to get lost in the sight , in the joy and the light nerves the other evoked , the feelings being the kind he hadn’t felt in quite some time . jupiter liked it , and he began thinking that maybe fate was on to something , having reunited them like this . “ it’s so good seeing you . ” he admitted .
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jupiter’s hands caused a strange tingling feeling throughout his body that culminated in a fierce pink flush across his cheeks. it felt...nice, to be touched again. he’d only ever really had alicia, and they’d been split for awhile now. they were still close friends, but there was an awkwardness in their touches that hadn’t been there before. there was none of that with jupiter. there was just...affection. aramis found himself grinning even bigger than before, as if that were even possible. “i did think of you, actually.” often and fondly. “for the movie, i mean. and now that you’re actually here, i might just have to give you a job.” the idea of working with jupiter on one of his movies made him giddy with excitement, half from the excitement of working with his crush, half from the knowledge that jupiter would do an incredible job and make his film something special. 
he listened intently as jupiter caught him up to date with his life, fascinated with the way his friend really seemed to like the small town. ari himself didn’t really care much for the town, as he had only really moved here because he had been so afraid of being alone in new york after the breakup that he followed his ex to her hometown. every time he’d begun to thing about going back home, something happened to keep him here. but maybe now that wouldn’t be so bad. he felt almost...guilty for the way his chest tightened when jupiter looked directly at him, as if he had always been able to see what little secrets ari held close. however he couldn’t help but chuckle when he learned that jupiter was, of course, working at angels. “every time i walk past angel’s, it makes me think of you, which is funny because if i’d ever actually gone in, maybe we could have seen each other sooner.” his smile became shy, but thankfully his cheeks had mercy and didn’t get any redder. 
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