lycaonthropy

[lycaonthropy]

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I'm just-- I've been a little... I've just been a little edgy lately."

[lycaonthropy]

     @silklies ➤ starter call ➤ ryan & nick

the train ride to haven springs had felt like slipping off the edge of the world. trees gave way to mountains, roads narrowed into winding paths, and the air got clearer the closer he got — like the past doesn't have the same grip here, like it hasn't followed him all the way up. that had been the hope, anyway — something about the quiet, the space, the absence of anyone who'd look at him like they knew. it's not permanent — just a pause, just long enough to breathe. to remember how to.

it's been a week now, perhaps a little longer ; he finds it harder to keep track of time, these days. it has, at least, been long enough to memorise the path from the little rented apartment opposite the general store to the diner that serves decent coffee and doesn't ask questions. long enough to be on nodding terms with a handful of locals, though none of them look too long or too close. nick likes that, the anonymity — the way people here notice you without really noticing you.

he doesn't plan on talking to anyone much — he keeps to himself, mostly, wandering trails and finding high spots where he can sit and pretend the quiet outside can reach the noise still rattling inside his chest. but then there's the guy with the flannel and the steady, watchful way of moving — ryan, he thinks his name is, the memory only sticking because it reminds him of his ryan. it's almost ironic, like the universe tossing him a jarring reminder, a harsh yank down to reality to remind him he can never escape hackett's quarry for good.

he wonders if he has something to do with the woods — a guide, or a ranger, or, hell, a lumberjack ( that would explain the flannel ). they've crossed paths a couple of times on the hiking trails, near the old mines, at the record store when nick is hovering, half - pretending to browse. this time, it's near the edge of town, where the brush grows thicker and the bustle of daily living melts away if you let it.

nick is perched on a low wooden fence, fingers curled loosely around a travel mug gone cold, watching the sun burn slowly across the foliage. he lifts his eyes at the footsteps behind him, quiet but not cautious, and gives a cursory, almost apologetic quirk of his lips — he always feels sort of like he's intruding, an outsider taking up space in their town.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀hey.⠀ ⠀❜

it's more of a breath than a word, half a greeting and half a question, like he's still not sure whether he wants the silence to be broken or not.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀you out here to get away from people too ? i can clear off if you need the space.⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

W H A T D O E S N ' T K I L L Y O U . . .

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎independent & selective dual - muse for

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎nick furcillo & dylan lenivy

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎of supermassive's the quarry

[lycaonthropy]

     @silklies ➤ starter call ➤ ryan & dylan

he'd started this adventure with a distinct air of optimism — aren't people always telling him that things like this are good for him ? fresh air, peaceful, grounding, whatever else the wellness blogs seem to be in consensus about — he'd needed a distraction, something to do, and how hard can hiking possibly be ?

turns out : very.

he's not entirely sure where he went wrong — somewhere between i'll just take this easy trail and wait, is this poison ivy ? it had all gone sharply downhill. literally and figuratively.

all to say — when he spies the man in actual ranger gear, boots, badge, the whole deal, he feels little shame in perking up like a lost puppy.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀hi, quick question. do any of these trails lead to, like, a starbucks, or is this more of a get lost and forage for berries situation ?⠀ ⠀❜

he half - stands, then settles for awkwardly perching on the edge of the mossed - over rock he's been leaning against, waving vaguely toward the dirt paths at his back like they've personally wronged him.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀see, i was trying to be adventurous, and i followed the little marker posts, and then i guess i stopped following them, and now i'm either halfway to enlightenment or, um, five minutes from crying into a squirrel.⠀ ⠀❜

a beat, before he grins with an air of equal sheepishness and pleading. he can't be the first hopeless out - of - towner this guy's had to drag back to civilisation, right ? at least, he's really hoping this isn't a uniquely dylan embarrassment.

[lycaonthropy]

     @silklies ➤ starter call ➤ alex & dylan

dylan hadn't absent - mindedly wandered his way over to rocky mountain record traders with any particular ambitions in mind ; really, he's just trying to kill time and pretend he has something resembling a life outside of radio and his cat. the bell above the door jingles as he steps inside, far too jubilant, and the warmth of the place hits him all at once — dusty, wood a little sun - bleached, but in that nostalgic, maybe - my - dad - used - to - listen - to - this - stuff kind of way.

he drifts toward the back, fingers trailing their way across rows of vinyl ike he might absorb knowledge via osmosis. disappointingly, he doesn't, but the ritual is nice — pretend you're a guy who knows deep cuts and b - sides, who isn't just here to feel a little less weird for twenty minutes.

he's not alone in the next aisle he comes to — a girl, shorter with broad - rimmed glasses, is flipping through a crate like she knows what she's doing, calm in a way he's currently trying his best to emulate. he pauses just shy of broaching her personal space, peers past her to read the label above the shelf — experimental ambient noise.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀okay, that could be groundbreaking or, like, two guys wheezing into a didgeridoo.⠀ ⠀❜

he's said it out loud almost before he's formulated the thought, and he valiantly represses the urge to grimace. social interaction 101 with dylan lenivy : make so, so many jokes about something they're probably into, so you can offend them right out of the gate and only go up from there.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀any suggestions ? trying to, uh, broaden my horizons. i've got exactly one record at home and it's a novelty disco album, so ... bar's low.⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

starter call !

specify muse(s) in the replies ❤

[lycaonthropy]

[lycaonthropy]

    @cruortype ➤ action prompts ➤ accepting ↳ [ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it. - adryan && dylan

the flashlight he'd propped on a nearby table isn't being of much help, unless you count the casting of sinister shadows to fray the wires of his nerves even further as helpful. the blood coating his arm shines with an almost unrealistic hue beneath its harsh glare, and dylan steels himself, drags a deep, shuddering breath. he's hunched with shoulders tense and jaw tight, the needle between his fingers trembling just enough to make the idea of threading it back through skin feel insurmountable.

the gash below one elbow isn't the worst he's seen, but it's bad enough to need something more than wishful thinking and a dirty t - shirt tied around it.

thus far, he's managed one stitch. one. and even that's left him light - headed and clenching his teeth so hard his temples ache.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀okay, dylan, you got this. it's just stabbing yourself. with purpose. people do this all the time in movies. no biggie.⠀ ⠀❜

his muscles twitch in protest at the words alone ; the blood's slowed to a sluggish ooze, but it still makes this entire process feel gross and slick, like trying to sew a piece of raw chicken back together.

eurgh. not helping.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀jesus. if i survive this, i'm majoring in not this. whatever field is the exact opposite of this.⠀ ⠀❜

he's so damn disoriented that he barely processes adryan's appearance at his shoulder, not until the needle is being carefully plucked from his hand. his gaze snaps up, jolted from his focus, but he doesn't jerk away — just blinks, arm still braced atop one knee, and tries not to sound too eager in his relief.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀god, yes, please, i can't — i could not be fucking this up more. by all means, be my knight in sterile armour.⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

    @cruortype ➤ action prompts ➤ accepting    ↳ [ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real." - scottie && nick

it hadn't felt like a dream, not the kind you can blink away in the quiet hush of early morning or shake off with a slow breath and the promise of daylight. it's always the same — the flicker of trees rushing past, the flash of blood staining his hands, the sick, low sound that might be a snarl or might be a scream. the worst of that night is lost to him, but the lack of memory is no reprieve, and it finds a way to haunt him regardless, in sensation if nothing else. that awful, clawing panic, the ache of missing something you didn't realise you could be without, the guilt that sits behind his ribcage as steady and immovable as his heart.

when he wakes, it's like coming up for air — lungs dragging in breath too fast, pulse pounding against his skin so strong he can feel it. he doesn't cry out, not this time, but something escapes him anyway, choked and quiet enough that he might've convinced himself he imagined it. except scottie moves — close enough to feel, voice already there before nick can get his bearings.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀i thought —⠀ ⠀❜

there's no red at his palms now, no howl tearing his throat, but each time he blinks, it's all still there ; half - memory, half - dream. in every moment, he can still feel what it was like to lose himself completely.

he exhales, slow, presses the heel of one hand to his eyes like it might anchor him, steady the tremble of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀sorry. didn't mean to wake you.⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

    @bearnone ➤ action prompts ➤ accepting    ↳ [ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile. - bear && dylan

dylan doesn't generally find himself wandering into gas station convenience stores unless he's mired in a dire snack emergency. and tonight ? this is a red alert : zero sugar in the apartment, zero motivation to cook, and a craving for something with enough artificial dye to legally count as hazardous waste.

he hovers in front of the candy aisle, squinting at a bag of gummy worms like it's personally wronged him.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀why are you two dollars more than last time ?⠀ ⠀❜

there's a high - pitched laugh from a kid across the store, the dull thud - thud of something bouncing, and then —

something fast and plastic is whizzing directly toward his head, and before his brain can register the threat level of a rogue bottle of gatorade, a hand is grabbing the back of his shirt collar and yanking him just far back enough that it misses his face and hits the shelf he'd been studying instead with a clatter. he staggers to catch his balance, blinks at the glorious explosion of blue sports drink now dripping down the racks.

a beat longer, and he cranes his neck to peer at his saviour.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀i didn't think gas stations came with their own stunt doubles.⠀ ⠀❜

he adjusts his shirt, bends down to pick up a couple of scattered bags of chips that have been knocked over in the mess, like it'll restore order to the universe or, at least, save some packs of cool ranch from doom.

then he straightens, gives the guy a once - over and holds up the bag of gummy worms like it might explain his presence, or maybe just justify the chaos.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀you always manhandle people in the snack aisle, or am i just special ?⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

I have “can’t get my dick in deep enough” disease which is when I’m topping I kinda go feral and claw and bite and grab them and yank them down onto my dick and pin them down by their neck and growl in their ear and~

[lycaonthropy]

    @cruortype ➤ action prompts ➤ accepting       ↳ [ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home." - jacob && dylan

he squints up at jacob with a slow, lopsided grin from where he's half - sinking into the couch, because for some reason no squinting means no thinking. the music is pounding, the lights are doing a very aggressive little rave dance, and the room feels like it's tilting slightly to the left, which he's fairly sure is not normal architecture.

he blinks. then he blinks again. jacob is still standing there.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀what are you even doing here ? i thought this party was for — like — cool people and sad people.⠀ ⠀❜

he makes a vague, sweeping gesture, nearly knocking over an empty cup in the process.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀home ? jacob, i don't even know what planet we're on right now. do we still have planets ? or did the werewolves take those, too ?⠀ ⠀❜

the grin remains, but it wavers a little around the edges, like maybe there's something behind it, something a little heavier than the alcohol in his system. his head tilts back against the couch cushion with a soft thump, gaze tracking the ceiling like it might offer him directions out of his own head.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀you're not gonna try and throw me over your shoulder again, are you ? 'cause last time you did that, i hit my head on a doorframe and saw colours. like, extra colours. i unlocked infrared.⠀ ⠀❜

despite the slurred words and glazed eyes, he doesn't fight the idea of leaving, and his hand flops lazily in jacob's direction, seeking an anchor to pull himself up.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀lead the way, captain safety. i trust your big, dumb muscles.⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

@popularmxnster ➤ billy && dylan ➤ cont .

Billy didnt even make an attempt to hide the corner of his lips twitching upward. He didnt like sleeping alone anyways. He had terrible nightmares so he often didnt sleep but if someone was with him, that seemed to help. "I'll stay." He said with a smile and put his jacket back down. "I was just going to go home and do shit anyways so this idea is much better." He kicked his shoes off and sat on the open window ledge, fishing out a cigarette. "I promise to attempt to keep my hands to myself." He said with a teasing wink before taking a drag.

he watches from the bed as billy claims the windowsill like he owns the place, cigarette hanging from his fingers like he's been cast in a noir flick and all. it's a whole thing, and, yeah, okay, dylan's not immune to the theatrics.

he leans back on his elbows, kicks aside a shirt that may or may not be clean — hard to say, really, and not his top priority — and tracks the lazy arc of smoke with his eyes. billy looks like the kind of guy who only ever half - lives in his skin, all cool detachment and sharp edges that probably aren't accidental.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀hey, if your hands don't behave ... i've had worse roommates.⠀ ⠀❜

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀besides, this is a pretty nice view.⠀ ⠀❜

it's tossed out so casually it has to be a joke. probably. maybe.

he busies himself with tugging a blanket haphazardly over his lap, like he's doing his best to shrug off something he's not even sure he meant — not that he's expecting to sleep much with him around. it isn't that he resents the company ; it just has him feeling ... alert, is all.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀anyway, mi casa es su casa. just don't judge my taste in cereal.⠀ ⠀❜

[lycaonthropy]

he grins, one part mischief, one part genuine curiosity as he sizes joel up.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀i mean, sure, you could probably take me down, but ... got a bad back or something ? you gonna throw out a hip mid - ass - kicking ?⠀ ⠀❜

it's teasing, no real malice behind it ; he's testing the waters, toeing that line he's so fond of — always prodding at the edges, trying to figure out how far he can push before patience wears thin.

after a long, drawn - out moment, he raises his hands in surrender, shoulders lifting in a loose, casual shrug — no harm, no foul.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀i get it, no q&a. guess i'm just wondering how someone like you stays sharp. you don't exactly look like the type to slow down.⠀ ⠀❜

@lycaonthropy asked: “ how old are you again? ” ( from dylan )

his typical expression was unamused at best; the lines on his face seemed imperceptibly to deepen in response to the question before words could even form on his tongue. he couldn't deny the time that was apparent at the corners of his eyes & the gray of his hair. hell, his joints betrayed him most days. his attitude remained vibrant, though. untouched, for the worse. " not too old to kick your ass, kid, so watch it. " joel quirks a brow as he looks over his shoulder to the other, expression challenging the question.

[lycaonthropy]

starter call !

specify muse(s) in the replies ❤

[lycaonthropy]

  @galaxythixf ➤ self - loathing prompts ➤ not accepting       ↳ "why do you doubt yourself so much?" - ryan to nick

the fire crackles between them, warm and low, the kind of easy background noise that usually makes it simpler to speak. not this time. not with a question like that. he isn't sure why he feels so caught off - kilter — ryan's always been observant — but he supposes he'd thought he'd hidden it better.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀i ... dunno. think it's just always kinda been there.⠀ ⠀❜

his shoulders lift in a weak shrug, and he keeps his gaze pinned to the firepit, watches the embers spit and settle as he lets the silence settle between them for a beat longer.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀people always expect stuff, y'know ? back home, at school, even here. be the funny guy, the nice guy, the chill one who's always up for whatever. and i try, i do, but ... sometimes i'm not. and then it's like ... if i don't live up to that, who am i ? what's left ?⠀ ⠀❜

a pause, and he exhales sharply through his nose, the twist of his lips wry.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀'s stupid, i know.⠀ ⠀❜

he hazards a glance toward ryan, eyes flicking to catch whatever unreadable expression he's wearing now.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀... guess you don't really strike me as the pep talk type, huh.⠀ ⠀❜

he smiles a little ; crooked, unsure, but grateful, in its own way.

[lycaonthropy]

he takes a beat to re - focus on the mug enclosed within curled fingers, its warmth managing to, at the very least, ground him a little. the air feels heavier now, somehow, but he balks at the idea of letting the moment slip into silence, not when he feels like they're — he doesn't know. bonding ?

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀yeah. yeah, actually, maybe. probably gonna need a few years before i feel up to thinking about what happened even more than i already do, though.⠀ ⠀❜

the beam of sunlight that reaches them through the paned windows feels almost jarring, too bright for the current train of thought, and he chooses to twist away in favour of nick, utilising his newly cleared vision to study him.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀y'know, cooking isn't all that different from science. i mean, you've got your ingredients, your measurements, your timing — all these little variables that need to work together if you want something to turn out ... edible.⠀ ⠀❜

the analogy might have gotten away from him a little.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀i mean, you can't just throw stuff in a pan and hope it works, right ? it's like ... well, if you're experimenting in the lab, and you don't do it right, you get something that doesn't make sense, and it all falls apart. like, uh — that time jacob tried to make muffins.⠀ ⠀❜

the self - conscious edge is a little too pronounced now, and he bites his tongue before he overexplains so intently he drowns his point beneath it all. he isn't sure why he's fishing for a connection to him, something they can relate on — maybe it's just that he doesn't have many other people who could understand him, or maybe it's that nick has always struck him as a guy holding back. there's more to him beneath that placid surface, and dylan hadn't realised how curious he was to dip beyond it 'til now.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀maybe i'm way off - base, but when you're making something, do you ever get, like — that moment ? when everything comes together and you figure it out, even if it's just for a second. that's kinda what i look for with physics.⠀ ⠀❜

he's been picking at his fingernails, he realises, or at least as best he can with the one hand ; a nervous tic he keeps meaning to work on, and then never does.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀anyway, as much as i thrive on talking about myself — why d'you like it so much ? cooking, i mean, not science. it can't be as simple as i like food, right ?⠀ ⠀❜

"I would have," he offers without a second thought. Nick was nothing if not a guy for anyone to spill their earnest thoughts or deepest of secrets. An infinite well of stories that were never really told and probably shouldn't be because they're being kept by a keeper that isn't quite enough to be memorable or odd enough to be even a passing novelty. All things good and bad died with the painfully average and he was unfortunately aware of it. It wouldn't be the first or last he listens to someone's woes with very little to offer in return but a promised ear, but he listens. He and Dylan clicked once Nick found it within himself to let loose and fall into his goofier side. It felt better committing to dumb pranks and stupid jokes as opposed to falling into a line he was constantly reminded he didn't fit into. It's what made banter with Dylan easy, the person he can honestly say he's the closest to being himself with, but even then he felt overshadowed.

Nick often spiraled after falling victim to his terrible habit of comparing himself to those around him and Dylan was no exception. It serves as no surprise that he feels the arbitrary space he'd made for himself in Dylan's presence feels a little smaller now knowing he had been hiding pieces of himself from Nick on purpose. To be completely fair, Nick hasn't been completely forthright either, but as isolating as it feels, it's suppressed. Truth be told he's genuinely happy to be a space for Dylan to express himself, even if he doesn't know the first thing about quantum physics or … whatever it is he's rambling about. He's clearly excited and that's enough for Nick but something deep inside him feels almost betrayed by this knowledge. It's an ugly feeling he isn't very proud of, something he can actively acknowledge is likely envy, something unreasonable, which is the reason for his lack of action but acknowledgement didn't get rid of the way it felt. It's … depressing, feeling inferior to every peer he managed to make a connection with.

" 'Math was fine', said no one ever." A light jest that hopefully translates. "But that's really great. I don't think it's that hard to believe you'd be into science, I mean we all had lives before coming here so it's only natural with college coming up and all too. Goofball Dylan is just as fun as Quantum Physics Dylan, if that helps. School's probably a lot easier when you have something interesting to focus on so it's nice you have something you're this passionate about. I mean I've never really thought about it like that before since most of what I remember from school is pretty boring if you're not lighting something on fire or making something explode." Science wasn't very eventful past that if food wasn't somehow involved but even then it always felt like more of a passive hobby. Food science wasn't particularly challenging, he'd argue. "I actually think that's really cool. It's definitely different but in a good way. It just means you're more talented, right?"

Nick wasn't sure how to approach the idea of how the unsolicited knowledge of werewolves existing making the reality that they thought they knew feel less comfortable to exist in because … yeah, it did. Werewolves were supposed to be in storybooks, video games, and horribly adapted movies but not real life. There wasn't some biological explanation for them, and therefore it made them scarier to think about, so he understood at least to that extent. They just had a life-changing experience that involved risking their lives with the threat of being eaten (or eating, in Nick's case), so there's also that. "I mean there's … a first time for everything, right? Isn't that kind of the premise of science? Discovering something for the first time and then … working out the details? I'm not really an expert but it's just a thought."