Text
@splitsuit asked: " it wasn't supposed to end like this. "
[ hit 'em where it hurts prompts. ]
many civilizations have done their very best to predict the fall of humankind, but none of their guesses have proven accurate. the will of the deified remains enigmatic, and life trudges onward. to think that beings so trivial could possibly understand the desires of their all-powerful lord and master β truly laughable.
that's why it's funny. what you've said. it's so very funny, to think that either of you could have anticipated exactly how this was meant to end. IT'S HIS GAME AFTER ALL. you've never even seen the rulebook. he just drags your pieces around the board, dealing out wins and losses at his discretion. apparently, he's tired of this one.
I WAS A HEAVY HEART TO CARRY,
MY FEET DRAGGED ACROSS THE GROUND.
hare's smiling up at you in a way that many would find infuriating. it's a lopsided, bleary sort of thing, and you realize that their eyes aren't entirely focused on you anymore. your touch is far-away, your voice coming through as if their ears are full of cotton. the pain is an afterthought at this point, providing none of the clarity its stabbing ache might've prior.
AND HE TOOK ME TO THE RIVER,
WHERE HE SLOWLY LET ME DROWN.
their hand raises, and though it trembles, they persevere. fingertips smeared with that all-too-familiar RED, RED, RED! swipe at your cheek in a clumsy attempt to cup your face. they don't understand how they know this is the last time, but they do. it all feel horribly final. they feel so heavy. HEAVY IN YOUR ARMS. even their eyelids are struggling to remain lifted, so they can earn themselves a few more moments of your company.
WAS IT WORTH THE WAIT?
ALL THIS KILLING TIME?
they can't speak to you, although the desire to find a voice they don't have is more present than ever. it would be simpler, they think, to deliver their last confession. their arms have gone far too numb to move through the motions of signing even a single word, let alone all of the things they might want you to hear. perhaps it's for the best, they think. it wouldn't be any blessing.
ARE YOU STRONG ENOUGH TO STAND,
PROTECTING BOTH YOUR HEART AND MINE?
the small hand tucked against your neck slackens, slowly at first but then all at once. their arm slides down your chest, dragging lines onto your suit. they'd apologize, normally, when they woke up. but they won't be waking up this time.
this day, hare finally gets to sleep. because it never mattered whether or not you let them. the only opinion that ever had any bearing on their continued existence was his. AND HE SAYS " GOODNIGHT ".
#splitsuit#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#( I tried to put a content warning on this and it took it off of the dash jfc so its a readmore nw#[ WOOO THIS ONE IS A DOOZY#I WROTE A HARE BAD END TONIGHT AND IT HURTS DUDES#[ also the song lyrics are from heavy in your arms by florence and the machine ]#β π ( queue )#β π π ππππ ππ ππππ ππ’ πππ ππ ππππ π ( bad ends )
7 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@the-actor-himself asked: π€ + 51 (random) [ fifty reasons to touch someone ]
6. ACTOR touches HARE ... on a falling tear.
playing at kindness doesn't suit you, and yet it's what you so love to do. you build a world where you can be the hero, but your bricks are the loved ones you have betrayed β the strangers you have imposed your self-important whims upon. no utopia is free, and yours is especially bloody.
whenever the mask slips, it does not end well for anyone who has the rotten luck of being within your company. hare has seen you at your worst β they have seen more than most, in truth. they carry a metaphorical backstage pass to the most despicable moments of your life. and yet, it is difficult to prepare. they can never truly be ready.
who or what opened the door that brought them here matters not. what does matter is the throbbing of their head, the way the floor is spinning and making the patterning of the carpet multiply endlessly within their swimming vision. one hand has curled around the quickly-growing lump on their brow, while the other struggles to support their weight as their stomach threatens to rebel.
the tears are not of sadness, but of pain, stinging at their eyes and smearing their reddening cheeks. the shock of it all has them completely at a loss β while they have experienced quite a bit of violence in their time, they were unprepared to be assaulted with a book over the sin of making a floorboard creak.
their next inhale burns with the scent of whiskey. hare's body jolts under your touch, though their disorientation gives you the advantage. you're able to nudge their hand out of the way, and all they can do is loosely grab onto your wrist. a paltry attempt at keeping you away, and it doesn't do anything to stop you. one of your hands cups their cheek, keeping their head steady so you can inspect the damage. they hiss in a breath as you move snowy tresses around. they would do anything to make you let go. don'ttouchmedon'ttouchmedon'ttouchme.
once you're satisfied, your move to hold hare's face in both hands, tipping it upright so you can look them in the eyes. their pupils are blown, and though they're bleary, there is obvious fury smoldering within them. you smile in a way that comes off as purely patronizing, exhaling a sigh that spills the stink of alcohol into hare's nose.
your thumbs stroke at the tears that continue to fall. "you really should know better," you say, and hare's lips twist into a bit of a snarl. the pounding within their skull still has their vision playing tricks on them. they see copies of you, all looking down at them with that holier-than-thou look on your face. "i would never hurt you. i couldn't hurt you. why must you always put yourself in harm's way? is it just so you'll have another thing to blame me for?"
hare bares their teeth. you afford them what is meant to be a very tolerant shake of the head, then release them, causing them to stumble forward. they release your wrist so they can catch themselves, bent hand-and-knee as you rise to your feet. "i suppose we all have to have a villain in our stories. on that, we can agree."
#[ warning for unhealthy relationship dynamics#i'd use the outright 'a' word for it but i'm worried this post will get blacklisted off of the dash lol#point is read with caution bc actor gets gaslighty and yucky ]#the actor himself#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π ππππππππ πππ ππππππππ ποΏ½οΏ½οΏ½οΏ½ πππππππ ( verse 001 )#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π ππππ ππππ ππ π πππ π’ππ π ππππ ( actor mark + hare )
7 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@jumpinagain asked: β youβve got me in the palm of your hands. you could crush me and i would still thank you for touching me at all. β [ it's all about the yearning prompts ]
it's becoming increasingly difficult for hare to evade the way they feel about you, and you aren't making it any easier. what had started as an attempt to help those working on building infrastructure for the new colony by clearing out a field of debris, has culminated in a trip to the medbay. hare isn't surprised that you managed to get yourself hurt, but they're comforted by the fact that it was merely a bump to the head, rather than anything more severe.
this is the last time hare is allowing you to do the grunt work, they've decided, even if you'd clearly found a bit of fulfillment in getting down-and-dirty. you're complaining quite a bit, but hare can't find it in themself to be terribly annoyed. their gaze is soft as they sit by your cot, helping you keep the ice against the goose egg that's formed within your messy black tresses. your examination found no sign of a concussion β which had you outraged, whining about how it had to be a concussion if it hurt this badly.
at one point, you decide that the ice is hurting more than helping, and you ask hare to put it down for now. they agree, as they don't really have any reason not to. sighing, indulgent but concerned, hare elects to gently take your face into their hands so they can examine the bump themself. that's when you mumble those words, breathless and earnest, like a prayer.
I WILL NOT ASK YOU WHERE YOU CAME FROM. I WILL NOT ASK β NEITHER SHOULD YOU.
it gives hare pause, for longer than they would like to admit. they cannot pretend they aren't affected. and yet, your blind devotion ever-prods at sore spots within them, and this too has them worried about the dynamic the two of you are trying to sustain. but they are not as strong as they wish they could be. hare's eyes close, and they suck in a deep breath through their nose, before turning your face back towards them.
JUST PUT YOUR SWEET LIPS ON MY LIPS β CAN'T WE JUST KISS LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO?
with a great deal of hesitance, hare moves to lean into your space. they do not kiss you, as to do such a thing feels akin to throwing themself off of a cliff. but they do, so-carefully, nudge their forehead into yours, curtaining you in their wild white hair. you are sharing air, and you do so for several moments, as hare's thumbs stroke over your cheekbones. featherlight. nothing close to crushing.
when they finally pull away, it is to meet your dark eyes and shake their head. if you would put yourself within their hands, they would never so readily squander that trust. even if they don't feel very worthy of it.
#jumpinagain#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π ππππ’ ππππππ ππππ π π πππ ππππππ ( verse 002 )#β π πππππππ π πππ ππ'π ππππππ ( head engineer + hare )#[ u know i'm down bad when i break out the hozier ]
6 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
what glitters is not gold: a villainois drabble.
there was a new creator in town. and you remain as fast caught in his snare as you had been the last. [ @pleasuretomeetme ]
this is a response to the above-linked ask, exploring a universe wherein a dark interpretation of illinois steals the spotlight from actor by force. read with caution: features depictions of character unalive && all of the sorts of things you'd associate with that, as well as some manipulation and other dark themes.
same snake, different skin.
a bug is a bug is a bug, hare has decided. it doesn't matter whether you're carrying the energy of the spider, or taking upon the mantle of a wasp: you're an insect just the same, whose only interest is to rule the web with an iron fist. to rebind a book does not change its contents. to put a corrupt man in new clothes does not rend the damnation from his heart. you think you're so special. your inflated sense of self-importance clings to you like a burial shroud.
hare would like to suffocate you with it.
while they have a hard time believing in chance, hindsight has made it easier to see that their presence during your attack had been accidental. unintended. your behavior had been cool, calculated β mark had called your bluff, and you made him choke on his words. it'd taken a few days for his end to really settle in. to become real. the idea that anyone could put him down stunned hare, making them wonder if he'd really just been that easy to take out (if they'd only tried) ... or if the talk of your metamorphosis had been more true than they'd wanted to think.
but then your eyes had landed on the stark white left standing amongst the red red red, and they'd seen something there that they'd only ever seen in one man's eyes before then: a desire to possess. you waxed poetic about how this was yours by right, that they should be glad that he'd come. now that you were here, and that he was not, you could see to giving the people exactly what they wanted.
how on earth could you truly think that this is what hare wanted? you have willfully blinded yourself to the reality of what you are, and expect hare to do the same. the mask of your face is just his in a different shade. they cannot be sure if you actually believe yourself or not. it doesn't matter. what hare's concerned with is thus: you have made it clear that hare will not be leaving this place, the one you dragged the two of you through the rivers of ichor to reach. they are your treasure. to the winner goes the spoils! someone else treated them like an object, too. hare can barely tolerate how obviously ignorant you are.
whether due to your supposed "love" or your megalomania or a bit of both, you claim tender moments with them. a caress to the cheek, an embrace, a twirl of some of that wild hair about your fingertips. another echo, another memory. hare has to resist the urge to mention this to you. they must metaphorically bite their tongue on a number of occasions. their patience is endless, and you are all too open with your intentions. you long for the applause, for the recognition you supposedly deserve. hare bearing witness to it is only the tip of the iceberg. the halls you have them confined to provide little entertainment, so they endure what you put them through purely to collect information.
it becomes increasingly evident that you have no idea who you are dealing with. while you respect hare for what they have done, believe them to be far more valuable than the everyday human β you see them as a damsel, a frightened royal in need of saving. you waste quite a bit of air discussing how poorly the nasty, clumsy spider treated hare, as if this will bring them to better appreciate their situation with you. you aid them in tasks they have never needed help with, your endearments and compliments dripping with superiority. you speak in a way that is positively diminutive.
hare comes to an understanding of what your problem is. you're too busy chasing other bugs. you couldn't be bothered to keep watch for a rabbit.
and it will be your undoing.
the way hare sees it, they have nothing left to lose. they didn't really have much to lose before, they suppose, but especially now, there is nothing that could go so wrong as to make them regret this choice. without mark's influence, they aren't altogether convinced that their immortality remains. to die would be a great adventure, wouldn't it? that's assuming they fail, of course. either way, hare feels there is no downside. they either win their freedom and be rid of what is, in essence, the second coming of the actor, or they finally, finally die trying.
your inability to see hare for what they are means you could not possibly anticipate what they choose to do. in most recent days, you have been spending hours and hours pouring over the artifacts left behind by your predecessor. tomes and tomes of writings, scribbled notes, pieces to a puzzle you believe you can understand. (it's a very funny joke. cruel, but funny.) the tool they have chosen glitters in the firelight, easily as long as their forearm. hands so small, limbs so feeble, should not be able to wield it with such confidence. but a certain someone wrote them with the strength to haul entire narratives upon their back. oh, if you'd only read closer.
they do not offer you any parting words. they do not gloat, as you once did. and not because they do not have a chance to do so β but because, to them, the poetics of it all do not matter. not an ounce. they are putting something to bed, and it doesn't need a story. silent footsteps close the distance between themself and your desk, hare approaching you from behind with a kind of silence that is deafening. they can hear their heart pounding in their ears. do they want to succeed? or do they want to lose? do they want to live? or do they want to die?
only one way to find out.
there is a moment, a breath, where they almost wish they could hear what you are thinking. how surprised you are, in the milliseconds before it's all over. as the blade plunges home between your shoulderblades. but really, they enjoy the quiet. they relish in the way that you perish not with a scream, but with a whimper. like a candle blown out by the wind. the smoke rises, and you slide down the chair, pouring the same vile sludge that once swam in mark's veins. it coats their hands and more besides.
you do not rise. hare does not fall. they'd been ready for more of a fight. but you'd not been prepared for one. not an ounce. they're a tad disappointed. it's unclear whether it's the fact that they'd lived, the proof that you'd really thought so little of them, or both, that's the cause of it.
with you gone, they may not be free β but at least the seat of heaven is empty. as it should be. it's a cold comfort, but it doesn't taste entirely bitter on the way down. when the moment came, they did not hesitate. but in the aftermath, there is much to consider. all the better to do on their own.
love is dead, anyway.
#pleasuretomeetme#[ this is somewhat disjointed but i just had to write it. king and i have been discussing this for a bit.#please heed the warnings! they're there for a reason. ty ]#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#villainois verse tbt.
5 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@pleasuretomeetme asked: Jonas grins. Thereβs a thin lock of freshly-bleached hair dangling over his forehead. β I dare you to let me do a pink stripe in your hair. β [ truth or dare time! ]
MABEL'S FRECKLED NOSE CRINKLES, a reluctant sort of smile curling at the corners of their lips. it's so hard for them to resist indulging you, even when you're being a total idiot. they're sat upon the bathroom counter, watching you fuss with your hair, both of you unbothered by the heavy chemical smell. changing your appearances is something the two of you have enjoyed doing, creating your own unique styles that defy who you used to be, who they tried to make you be. they support your experimenting with your hair color β their own hair felt different enough with a chop and its natural blonding, so they haven't really felt moved to do more.
after a few moments of contemplation, the captain finds themself rather lacking in reasons to refuse you. it seems fun enough, after all, and they aren't exactly the type to back down from a challenge. they sift through their thick hair, pulling it forward, untucking it from their ears so that the strands hang in a way that's more available to you. "just don't fuck it up," is their answer, wry and knowing, already aware that you'll be careful but unable to keep their fingers off of your pulse. "if i end up looking ugly, i'll shave all of your hair off in your sleep."
#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#pleasuretomeetme#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π π π ππ’ ππππ π πππππ ππππππ ( verse 005 )#β π πππ ππππππ πππ ( jonas + captain )
3 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@rosetintedgunman asked: Wilford popped in with a grin. "Hey Hare. Got a dare fer ya. I got a basket here. Fill it with as many things as ya can hold in one go." [ truth or dare time! ]
hare frowns at the offered basket, seemingly not catching the hidden meaning. the actor neglected all sorts of lessons, you see, not just the one causing the latest outrage. they lower it, peering down at the decently-sized vessel and struggling, briefly, to think of what in the world they might attempt to fill it with.
eventually, the viewer seems to make a decision. you watch as they lower themself onto the ground, sitting down in the grass β and using those small, talkative hands to scoop fistfuls of dirt into the basket until it is full.
they nudge it towards you once the task is complete.
#[ SDGHDBFGH#sometimes i am truly just the conduit ]#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#rosetintedgunman#β π ππππππππ πππ ππππππππ ππ πππππππ ( verse 001 )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )
4 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@pleasuretomeetme asked: Jonas sends a paper airplane zooming across the room to bounce off of Captainβs back. The moment they turn to him with a raised brow, he grins, flopping down further onto the couch as he continues to regard them. β Youβre the only person who really gets me, yβknow? All this pointless story bullshit, dragging everyone in circles. β
He spins a finger over his head. β Iβd say youβre the big pair of scissors that cut me out of it, but I guess we really gave each other a pair. Itβs nice. Youβre the only bastard Iβd let beat me at twister for the rest of our lives. β They put their hands on their hips and Jonasβ grin widens. With air quotes, he repeats, ββLetβ beat me at twister. β
He lands on his back on the couch. β Just you fuckinβ wait, Iβll find a game Iβm better than you at. β
[ tell my muse why you care about them ]
THE CAPTAIN had not taken apart the invincible piece by piece, life by life, in your name. to say such a thing would be not only discredit the captain, but the affect that the crew upon it ( some above others ) had on their state. however, to pretend that the actions of the person you were before did not leave a mark upon the person they were before β that would be just as untrue. the shadows of who these two were, in tandem, cast light onto the people they are now.
if they were to be honest with themself, they did not imagine a life lived alongside someone else when they walked out of that shattered story and into the world beyond. but there you were. there you were. you were new. and so were they.
you are the only person that can mock them as they are now. the paper airplane is kicked away, towards the bin of other creations of a similar nature β the two of you have filled up boxes with paper animals, many-sided shapes, tiny stars. they can't help but feel their annoyance ebb into fondness as you continue. they are capable of great anger. but this is not one of those times.
your words leave a mark on them that makes them feel vulnerable. while they are capable of feeling vulnerable around you, it still isn't an easy thing to do. every cell in their body resists the idea of being weak. it's reflexive, really, their attitude, as they reply with a dismissive, "maybe you'd have better luck making up a game of your own. that way, you could stack the odds. actually give yourself a chance."
there's a pause as you huff, clearly unhurt but ready to act grumpy for the sake of it. the captain watches you for a moment.
the sheaf of paper sitting upon your chest is discarded to make room. limbs tangle together as they nudge their head in underneath of your chin. you breathe in deeply, and you can smell the crisp scent of their favored shampoo. they weigh very little, despite the obvious musculature you can feel as you stroke your hand over their back, shifting to embrace them, keep them close.
"you're my favorite bastard, too, i guess." you can feel them smiling against your shirt.
#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#pleasuretomeetme#β π π π ππ’ ππππ π πππππ ππππππ ( verse 005 )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π πππ ππππππ πππ ( jonas + captain )
3 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@pleasuretomeetme asked: β€οΈ+π€ [ β€οΈ+π€ positive & negative traits meme ]
captain seems to ponder their answer for a moment, staring intently into your eyes. their gaze weighs heavily on most, but not you. in fact, they find themselves satisfied when their wide-eyed look finally cracks the serious face youβve put-upon, and you succumb to laughter.
they lean back in their seat. βyou let me do whatever i want,β captain says, cheekily, accepting the dig of your boot beneath the table. itβs well-earned. βfine, fine. youβre pretty much the only person i can stand. and itβs because youβre special. we understand each other in ways everyone else could never.β
a pause, as they consider you. βbut youβre a fucking blanket-stealer.β
the chair is knocked out from beneath them as you tackle them to the floor for a wrestling match. captain lets you win, this once.
#pleasuretomeetme#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π π π ππ’ ππππ π πππππ ππππππ ( verse 005 )#[ it must be so wild to see the captain having fun with someone#jonas is just built different /lh#THE LORE DROP WILL BE SOON I AM JUST ONE LIL BLORBO ]#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π πππ ππππππ πππ ( jonas + captain )
3 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@alwayshorrible asked: Murdock presents Hare with an antique-looking brush, the handle and backing all sculpted out of what appears to be silver. Itβs in surprisingly good condition. Heβs resisting the urge to snort. βItβs a Hare-brush. Get it? Hare-brush.β
the pun is heard, but not acknowledged β hare is too busy staring down at the item you have placed into their hands, trying to β¦ process, how such a lovely item could possibly be theirs. it isnβt as if they havenβt been given gifts before. however, so rarely do those gifts actually suit them β ever-generic loversβ trinkets, far more pleasing to the audience than hare, theyβre sure.
hare doesnβt really think themself to be a materialistic person. at the same time, they donβt feel theyβre horribly sentimental, either. things are simply β¦ things, and there is always an abundance of things here in the world of the gracious creator. so why does a simple hairbrush, gleaming gently in the low light of the cabin, tug on heartstrings they loathed to have?
just before you might wonder if their silence is distaste, they lift their head. gently setting the brush aside, they lift their hands and tell you, [ THANK YOU. ITβS BEAUTIFUL. ]
#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π ππππππππ πππ ππππππππ ππ πππππππ ( verse 001 )#alwayshorrible#[ WAHH. i love this. i loved this when i got it like 2 months ago#i just died and couldn't give it what it deserved sdfbdsg ]
5 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@jumpinagain asked: " you're such an idiot. " [ send in β youβre such an idiot. β for the sender to clean the receiverβs wounds while lightly scolding them for being so reckless when the receiver show up on their doorstep for medical attention. ]
hare contemplated refusing you outright, but their mouth closed once they recognized that trying to explain their disturbingly-high pain tolerance to you is probably not going to garner the best reaction. the scars that litter their skin beneath this stuffy uniform would probably scare you.
they watch you, eyes following the way you carefully wrap the knuckles of their injured hand. your lecture about hare leaving such repairs to the professionals is being heard, in a sense, but not digested. truthfully, it's difficult to be particularly concerned about your physical wellbeing when it's never permanent. the scars, maybe, but not the pain. not the death. comparing it to a video game felt trite, but if the shoe fits ...
all at once, they're aware of gloved fingers against their chin, tipping their head up. the depths of their grey eyes find your face, just in time for you to give them a gentle shake, as if to rouse. "captain, are you even listening to me? i'm not saying all of this for my health. it's for yours, actually. quite literally."
you're used to hare simply staring at you, and they do, holding your gaze for a few moments. then, hesitantly at first but with increasing sincerity, they just smile, and shake their head, the petulance of it all but tangible. you huff, clearly annoyed, but hare can see you trying to resist the urge to grin back at them.
#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#jumpinagain#β π ππππππππ πππ ππππππππ ππ πππππππ ( verse 001 )#[ my little baby heart ]#β π ( scheduled )
5 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
anonymous asked: Hello, Captain. Could I bother you for a truth? What is your favorite pastime, now that you're out of the loop? [ truth or dare time! ]
THE CAPTAIN IS, INDEED, BOTHERED. they, quite literally, have no interest in entertaining questions like this. they feel pried at, overly seen. they don't appreciate having an audience. but here you are, and there is your question, and they suppose they need to answer it.
"i really like food." mostly things with strong tastes, things that are exciting and flavorful. they love sour candies, they're not at all intimidated by spice. "watch a lot of movies, too. mostly the bad ones." they can get behind a good book, sometimes. but it depends on what it's about. they loathe a romance. "mostly, i just keep to myself. it's nice to be able to sit around and do nothing, for once. i'm taking it slow. i'm tired of fast-paced. i'm tired of always having to do something, always needing to be somewhere." their eyes travel over you, from the top of your head to the soles of your shoes. " ... always having to answer to someone."
their eyes narrow. you suspect it might be best to back off, now.
#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π πππ ππ ππππ’ πππππ ( anonymous )#β π π π ππ’ ππππ π πππππ ππππππ ( verse 005 )
2 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@rosetintedgunman asked: Wilford sits down near Captain. "Hey. Got a truth fer ya. An' really, it's 'cause I'm nosy more than anythin' else. Ya were caught in stories an' loops fer so long⦠Do ya any sorta bucket list of things ya wanna do now that ya can?" [ truth or dare time! ]
THE CAPTAIN'S SCOWL MAKES IT VERY CLEAR HOW THEY FEEL ABOUT YOUR PRESENCE. you nudge up close to them, and they immediately shift away, posture tightly-wound. shoulders drawn inward, muscles coiled as if to prepare to deliver a blow. their memories of you have not been lost, but much of their sentiment β not just for you, so try not to be offended β has been completely blown to smithereens. ( haha, good one. )
however, your question seems to somehow provoke their interest. perhaps it's the pandering nature of it, the way it plays right into their most pressing desires. maybe it's you grasping at the last remaining string that might tie you together and tugging on it, even if it might snap from the pressure. their lips purse, brow furrowed with both withheld aggression and thought.
"alright, pinky pie. i'll bite." is that a warning, or a concession? they delight in the double entendre. "been trying a lot of food. that's up there. going to places i think look interesting, on my own terms. lots of games to play. lots of tech to try out."
a brief pause, as their eyes return to yours again. "mostly, i've just been keeping to myself. i never really got to be alone, before. there was always somebody watching. even when they wanted me to think there wasn't." they cock their head, looking you up and down. "even you. everybody treated me like i was the headliner at the fucking freakshow. best part is when they tried to pretend it was out of love."
they stand up, their heavy boots kicking up a bit of dirt as they do so. even at their small stature, they manage to appear firm as they tell you, "you're no different. you can lie to yourself all you want, if it makes you feel better. but i'm done dancing for all of you. i don't want your applause. i just want you to leave me alone."
before you have a chance to react, THE CAPTAIN IS GONE. if you take a moment to consider their departure, you realize they didn't so much walk away as they disappeared. might've had something to do with that flash of blue light, but who's to say?
#[ idk if i like these psds or not sdfhhdg#but have an icon anyway ]#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#rosetintedgunman#β π π π ππ’ ππππ π πππππ ππππππ ( verse 005 )#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )
2 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@the-actor-himself asked: β³ "do you really believe I enjoy hurting you?"
[ triangle truth meme: muse must rate question 1-10 on how little they want to answer it && then answer it honestly ]
a strained grimace colors hare's face. they don't make a move to answer, not immediately. there is a clear debate going on inside of their mind, as they try to wrap their thoughts into a shape that actually makes sense.
[ TEN. ]
their hands are quivering as they work through their answer. they look at you with contempt, but it becomes increasingly questionable whether or not that aggression is directed at you or themself.
[ I DON'T THINK YOU EVEN CARE. THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS IS YOUR OWN PLEASURE. ] they stumble, fingers hovering in the air for a moment. it's clear that their inability to give a plain response is frustrating for them. [ OR NOT. MAYBE YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND IT. MAYBE YOU'RE SO SICK AND TWISTED THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN COMPREHEND WHY THIS ISN'T FUN FOR ME. ]
hare's lip curls, and you imagine that, if they could make a sound with that throat of theirs, they might just growl. [ YOU DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE. I DON'T GET YOU. I DON'T KNOW IF YOU HATE ME, OR IF YOU THINK YOU LOVE ME, OR SOMETHING IN-BETWEEN. ]
all at once, you both seem to become aware of the fact that there's tears running down hare's face. they pause in their signing to scrub at them with their sleeve. [ I DON'T KNOW WHERE I STAND WITH YOU. BUT I'M PRETTY SURE I JUST WANNA RUN AWAY. FAST. ]
#[ ouch! ouch! ouch! ]#the actor himself#β π π ππππππππ ππππ π ππππππ π ππππ ( character study )#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#β π ( queue )#β π ππππ ππππ ππ π πππ π’ππ π ππππ ( actor mark + hare )
4 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@lvckyflannel asked: β€οΈ ! [ β€οΈ+π€ positive & negative traits meme ]
[ YOU DONβT GIVE UP, ] they say, simply, with very little delay. [ NO MATTER WHAT, YOU KEEP GOING. YOU KEEP SMILING. ]
even if they canβt really understand such optimism, themself, they still manage to admire it in you. they would usually find such a sunny attitude endlessly annoying. you make it look good.
#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#lvckyflannel#β π ππππππππ πππ ππππππππ ππ πππππππ ( verse 001 )#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )#β π ( scheduled )
2 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@alwayshorrible asked: ( wash ) : for sender to wash blood off of receiver [ 20 action starters ]
the overt intimacy of what the two of you are currently sharing is almost enough to scare hare off. certainly they could take care of this themself, after all, considering the most they need is a decent scrubbing with some water. in the face of sharing such a vulnerable moment with another person, of trusting them so fully with some of their weaker pieces β¦ frankly, theyβd rather jump into a lake to get this blood off.
but they donβt. they donβt run, they donβt resist. ( apart from some initial attempts to brush you off. ) perhaps itβs because you arenβt holding them like theyβre made of glass. you arenβt treating them like the damsel. your warm washcloth swipes over the patches splattered across their skin with a purpose, applying only the force necessary but not chickening out when a particular bit of ruddy brown didnβt want to come loose. you donβt apologize, you donβt fret overly. hare may deserve to be handled gently, but they certainly do not accept it well. perhaps you realize that, somehow.
they make their gratitude known once you are finished, and accept your offer of a clean sweater to wear, even if itβs rather oversized. [ NEXT TIME, ] they tell you, [ IβLL AVOID WEARING WHITE. ]
#alwayshorrible#β π ππππππππ πππ ππππππππ ππ πππππππ ( verse 001 )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#[ im love them. ]#β π π’ππ π πππ ππππ πππ ( asks )
2 notes
Β·
View notes
Text
@jumpinagain asked: π [ send π to get a smooch! ]
the moon is full tonight, and the blinds break apart its beams into ribbons that paint the quilt the two of you lay beneath. you are fast asleep, curled away from hare and clutching a pillow, snoring gently into the material jammed beneath your chin β leaving hare to be the only one to appreciate it.
they watch as your chest rises and falls. you look so peaceful, resting under the light of the cosmos, adorned with its light. their hand rubs gently over your side, arm shifting to curl around you a bit more securely. sleep evades them this evening, just as it has many before it β meaning they're forced to lie awake alone with their thoughts, holding the man who sent so many of them spinning. they should feel blessed to share a bed with a supernova. and they do, most days.
the thoughtful frown that purses their lips remains as they move in to let them brush over your shoulder. they inhale the scent of your shampoo and wonder why, exactly, the universe must be so cruel as to reward its savior with a prize that could not even comprehend itself. they suppose the flaw in that logic, really, is assuming they truly saved anything at all β or, even if they did, it's rather arrogant to distance themself from the blame so appropriately set upon their shoulders alongside the glory.
truly, the burden of memory is a heavy one. and even the singular man whom they'd thought could help them heft the load kept himself distant, played at ignorance. you are right here β but then again, you really aren't, are you?
hare presses their nose into the crook of your neck and forces their eyes to close. blindly, the arm that they have tucked around you shifts, allowing their hand to grope about for one of yours. they pry it off of the pillow so that they can intertwine your fingers.
they promised to never let go of you. so they won't. no matter what comes of it. can you say the same? it doesn't matter, anyway. another night, another day, another adventure. another embrace, another kiss between your shoulderblades.
when the day meets the night, sleep finally arrives. better late than never. when you finally stir, the captain has burrowed themself into your back, looking more at peace than they ever do when awake.
#β π ππππ’ ππππππ ππππ π π πππ ππππππ ( verse 002 )#β π π ππ πππ π’πππ πππππππππππ ( ic )#jumpinagain#suggestive 345446#[ technically?? it's worth tagging at least ]#[ anyway listen to tightrope from the greatest showman and cry ]
2 notes
Β·
View notes