#Tri-colour with freckles DOMINATION time

[pawsitivevibe]

Possible that Arthur's sister will be at the show we're going to in April. Oh no. She's prettier than him.

[thirstywoso]

Colour outside the lines //

Jessie Fleming x Reader

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: little angst and a little fluff

Edit: I wrote this in less than 2 hours whilst I was bored at work and I'm not sure I like it but let's gooo

You'd have thought working with Jessie would be fun but sometimes her competitive edge and your stubbornness wouldn't always be as beneficial as it usually was. That was the case this week, training was something you had always enjoyed but lately yourself and Jessie were pushing each other to one another's limits. Sure in the long run this would be good for your fitness and stamina, that being said you were run ragged most days.

Today though you were wrecked, it started in the morning when you had arrived at training. Sitting down on the bench in front of your cubby you were talking to Sam about the session you had coming up.

"Y/n if you're going to be fighting for dominance with Jessie again today I won't be partnering with you" she mocked pretending to roll her eyes

You playfully swatted her on the arm. "You wouldn't ever dream of leaving me partnerless Coffey" you put your hand on your chest as if you were offended.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I can keep up with this weird competitive thing you've got on with Miss Freckles over there"

You laughed at her comment before glancing over at the mentioned woman who sat opposite you in the changing room, she caught your eye and gave you a determined look. "Shit" you thought to yourself knowing today was going to be another tough one.

"Earth to y/n, where'd you just go?"

You looked back at her with a blank expression wondering how long you'd zoned out for.

"Look I'll partner with you always but please don't drag me into it, I've been asleep by 9 after I train with you" she said putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you from wondering into your own world again.

"I can't promise anything.."

By lunch time Sam had indeed regretted partnering up with you.

The morning entailed parters competing in various challenges that would be ranked based on a combined score.

The first challenge was the vertical jump, where each team had to go twice and their best score would be counted.

Sam and yourself just beating Jessie and Janine by 1 point which of course Jessie claimed that you had cheated and wanted a rematch but the coaches confirmed the scores were final.

Next you had an endurance test, where the first person in the pair would run from one end of the pitch and back and then the second one would go and so on. The teams that lasted the longest would gain the most points.

Jessie and Janine had won that to your dismay with you only dropping out a lap before them.

The morning continued on like that where you would win a challenge and then Jessie would win a challenge. When lunch time rolled around you had reached a deadlock.

"Are you not sick of these two bickering over who is better everyday?" Janine asked Sam as they joined yourself and Jessie at the lunch table.

"Who isn't?" Sam Laughed

"Sorry that we like to keep our relationship alive with some healthy competition" Jessie defended

"Babe you must admit we have been going a bit crazy with this lately"

"Y/n's right Jessie, y'all have been killing us and everyone else has been saying it's been getting out of control" Sam tried to reason

"Yeah we understand the competitive side you both have but bickering every time you don't win is getting old even y/n is sick of it" Janine aimed at Jessie

Jessie looked over to you catching your eye, you just held your hands up surrendering

"You think it's getting tiring too?" She said looking disappointed

You didn't answer straight away as you didn't want to upset Jessie and as much as you loved her playful side you were starting to come home drained each day to the point you'd sometimes fall asleep whilst eating dinner that Jessie had cooked you.

Jessie stood up heading for the door back towards the training facilities "Jess, come on don't be like that" you called after her but it was no use.

"Thanks guys" you said sarcastically as you got up in the direction of Jessie.

The rest of training Jessie had avoided you not even acknowledging you when you tried to talk to her. You'd planned on breaking your deadlock during this part of the afternoon but you could tell it wasn't a good idea with the scowl she had painted on her face.

Even the ride home from training was quiet and you knew even if you attempted to talk to her it would be futile.

Getting in through the door Jessie made her way to your bedroom and shut the door behind her, you leant against the cool granite of the kitchen island and released a sigh you hadn't realised you'd be holding in.

Closing your eyes you let yourself think about what the hell had happened today. You decided the best way to get on Jessie's good side would be to cook her favourite meal of yours.

You began cooking your famous chicken pesto pasta and set up the table with some candles. Admiring the set up you realised something was missing so you walked down to the local store and bought some of your girlfriends favourite flowers and grabbed her a coffee from her favourite coffee shop.

When you returned you lit the candles and arranged the flowers heating the meal you had made. Once you'd served it up you put on some music and lightly knocked on your bedroom door before entering.

Seeing Jessie laying there staring at the ceiling in thought

"Hey.." you said nervously

She didn't answer

"Look, I know you're upset but there's some food out here for you and if you're up for it I would like to talk about what happened today"

You closed the door and went and sat at the table, just as you were about to start you heard the door click open and Jessie's feet padding softly towards you.

"Jess, I know you're upset because I hadn't said anything"

"Why didn't you tell me y/n/n?"

"I just, I love you Jess and your quirky competitive side. In fact I've really enjoyed training lately but this past week you've just been putting me to shame and keeping up with you has been an effort and I'm just finding myself so lethargic I can't even enjoy our quiet time together" you rambled out explaining before she could say anything.

Jessie grabbed your hand across the table "I'm sorry, I thought you enjoyed that about me and I didn't want to disappoint you by stopping our fun routine we have going on"

You rubbed your thumb over her hand comfortingly prompting her to carry on.

"I wish you'd have said something, I was just upset that I had to hear from our friends how you were feeling." She paused "I guess I'm saying that it hurt you felt you could go to them before you could go to me"

"Jessie, I promise it wasn't like that. Sam had complained I was working her too hard and I simply agreed that I was tired too"

"I understand, I just hope this means we are okay. I certainly think it'll do us both some good if we get a break from this healthy competition that has slowly become unhealthy" Jessie reasoned

"I agree"

You are the rest of you meal just casually chatting about other things going on in your life. After you finished Jessie washed the dishes and you dried them packing them away.

"How about we go cuddle up and watch a movie?" Jessie held out an olive branch

"How could I refuse" you smile

-

You'd both changed into some shorts and T-shirts you in her UCLA shirt and her in your old National team jersey.

Cuddling up to Jessie under the blanket you closed your eyes as she gently stroked your arm. Her fingers gently tracing the tattoos that ran from your shoulder to your wrist.

You hummed in contentment as she continued

"You know I've always wondered what these would look like in colour" Jessie said mindlessly

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Colour them in if you like?"

"Can I?"

You stood up grabbing a pack of colouring pens from a draw and returned handing them to Jessie

"Go ahead!"

You then sat there as Jessie began to colour in the flowers you had on your arm, taking care that she didn't colour outside the lines.

You're not sure how long you sat there for watching as Jessie meticulously coloured each piece of skin. Relaxing into the feeling the next thing you know you woke up. Jessie still tracing the shapes on your body only now you were fully in colour, and a suspicious addition where you arm and wrist connect. As you pulled your arm closer to inspect you realised that she had written her name on you.

You smiled to yourself and looked at her, a guilty smirk evident on her face.

"You really do bring colour to my life" looking back at your arm "literally"

"I love you more than anything" Jessie said sincerely

"I, I don't think I could ever express how big my feelings are for you" you thought for a second "I could genuinely burst when I look at you, my heart combusts just trying to put it into words"

"Ew gross, but you too" Jessie fake gagged at your sentiment.

This earned a shove from you which had Jessie landing on the floor in a pile of blankets looking up at you bemused.

[lilvcfm]

character filed under : jang u-jin.

application .

* ⠀ ✞ ⠀ cha   eunwoo   .   cis man   .   he / him / they   .   |   *   cue   CONSUME   BY   CHASE ATLANTIC FT. GOON DES GARCONS   *   |   U-JIN   JANG   was   just   seen   lurking   around   OLYMPIC NATIONAL PARK   ,   wonder   what   they’re   up   to   ?   they’re   a(n)   23   year   old   human   that   has   been   in   forks   for   SIX   MONTHS   because   HE NEEDS INSPIRATION FOR HIS NEXT BOOK   .   they   currently   work   as   a(n)   POET   &   given   their   +   COMPASSIONATE   &   -   STUBBORN   personality   ,   it’s   no   wonder   they   feel   CAUTIOUS   towards   the   latest   influx   of   new   arrivals   &   are   AWARE   of   the   supernatural   .   |  

statistics .

birth name . jang u-jin.

name meaning . his name means blessing. ( pls, i want someone to call him blessing like romantically. )

age . 23

birthday . 23rd of october.

birth place . seoul, south korea.

gender + pronouns . cis man + he / him / they.

species . gifted human.

gift . cursed speech.

orientation . bisexual + biromantic.

status . single.

occupation . famous poet.

languages . korean, english, sign language ( ksl + asl ) and can write in more languages.

personality .

positive traits . compassionate + clever + illuminating.

negative traits . obstinate - sarcastic - .

mbti . intp.

moral alignment . chaotic neutral.

prone to violence . yes, not by choice.

appearance .

faceclaim . cha eunwoo.

voice claim . cha eunwoo.

eyes . brown. when the light isn't reflected in them, they appear so dark that they almost look black. in the light, they appear to have deep amber flakes in them. and his eyes happen to be very expressive, some can read them like an open book. though the fatigue is noticeable under his eyes most days due to lack of sleep. hair . black in colour, when in the sun it almost has a blue tint to his hair. he has a short wolf cut styled hair-do, here.

dominant hand . left.

height . 6'0 ( 1.83m ).

build . slim muscular.

tattoos . technically speaking he has none. but he has cursed sigils on the corners of his lips, still very noticeable against his pale gold skin and on his tongue. here.

piercings . both his bottom lobes are pierced.

notable features . a splatter of freckles across his cheeks and nose ridge, noticeable up close up. his eyes, framed by long lashes. when in lower collared tops, the scar across his neck is seen, faint but catches the light.

family .

father . jang in-su. †

mother . jang hyun-ae. †

brother . jang man-shik. †

gift .

cursed speech; his speech amplifies the power and compulsion of words. it reinforces the user's words with cursed energy, which compels the listeners to act or be acted upon based on those words. ect. he tells you to stop you will stop and he says blast away you'll be thrown backwards.

character study .

a blessing. was what he was to his mother and father, their second child and always deemed a blessing. despite being a cursed speech user… his parents saw him as a blessing. usually, that would go to someone's head, right ? it would but it didn't, he always stayed humbled and grounded. though that could've been from his older brother's doing, never did the brothers see eye to eye.

and for years it would fester.

constantly at odds with one another. it was exhausting on u-jin, he never could gage if it was for man-shik… every time he tried in vain to being it to a ceasefire it would always flare up again and go out of control. u-jin was far from perfect but he did try to stop the senseless fighting between his brother but it never worked out. and towards the end, he just stopped caring altogether.

start of triggers : violence, blood & murder.

the bitter war between brothers came to a head in the worst ways possible.

man-shik attacked his underarm parents whom were asleep in their beds, killing them. and then went to his brother's room looking for the source of his hatred, he found asleep but he wanted a fight.

startled and alarmed, u-jin woke with a start and was forced into a huge fist fight with his older brother. he got a few really good hits in, trying to block his brother's blows to that of trying to keep him at arm's length. but it didn't stay that way, man-shik pulled out the knife and u-jin's life flashed before his eyes - truly. but somehow in the struggle ( forgetting about his cursed speech, he was panicked ), u-jin was able to get the knife out of his brother's hands... he tried to toss it away but failed.

and then both brothers stared down the blade at one another. of course, man-shik was the first to attack and sliced u-jin's throat but somehow it wasn't the right angle to bleed out but it caused enough pain and blood.

in man-shik's slice motion, u-jin was able to push the blade up and into his older brother, burying it to the hilt in between his ribs, it punctured his lung. and death rattles happened.

his brother fell silent.

end of triggers : violence, blood & murder.

he laidback next to his brother's body for what felt like eternity. flowing in and out of consciousness. he was sixteen and he believed this was the end of his life... he had a good-ish run.

but emergency services broke down the front door and rushed him to hospital, so he was told. apart of him didn't want to be saved but he was during his recovery ( though short ), he was found to have acted in self-defence.

when he was discharged, he was placed in the care of his estranged uncle. and he was thrusted into a world of luxury, travel and the world is his oyster... the man and nephew mourned together but his uncle didn't pay any respects to his brother... going so far as not having him on the family plot.

u-jin's uncle placed him as the heir to his own estates as the man never wanted to have children and u-jin was the closest thing to a son, he's ever had.

after years of following his uncle around the world, u-jin decided to spread his own wings and travel himself.

he's been doing that ever since.

what had landed him in forks ? he heard it was an enchanting small town, one that everyone should visit at least once in their life ( if they could ) and he needs inspiration for his next book, lending towards a nature theme from the sheer beauty of forks.

canons .

he doesn't talk if he can help it due to the fact he doesn't want to accidentally curse someone. that means he's either signing or that of using his phone to speech for him. sometimes... he might say an odd word here and there ( super rare ).

he's forgiven his brother about a little over a year ago. but from time to time, he finds himself holding hatred in his heart towards his brother from what he took from him.

whilst on the topic of his family, he visits them every anniversary of their funerals and leaves flowers.

when he was in europe, he was jumped in alleyway by a three men and instead of telling them to stop which he had every intention on doing so, he said die. and his cursed speech delivered death to the three men... whilst leaving u-jin coughing up blood from such a high command.

he wears his mother's golden circular pendant around his neck, never takes it off... makes him feel close to her.

loves to try anything at least twice as he believes everything deserves a second chance.

dal, his cat. he found the day he moved into the cabin he's renting in forks and has since become his pet, taken her to vet and had her chipped and up to date on her vaccinations. ( he obviously made sure she didn't belong to anyone first ). but he loves her deeply, they share a beautiful bond. and dal has since become a lazy little house cat.

connections .

uncle . his uncle has stepped up since he was sixteen, have been pretty close even since. like to leave this open up for plotting.

townie friend . this person seek him out on his second day in town and they fast became friends.

hook-up ( maybe ? ) .

honestly anything !!!

[pompadorbz]

I RARELY see people tackle potential parents for Daiya and Mondo, so here they are!

I imagine Cassie met Hideo when she was in high school, but Hideo was a lot older than her. Regardless of that they hit it off fairly well, but things started to sour once Daiya was born. Hideo was a more distant father and refused to run his family's motor business beyond riding a motorcycle, so he refused to take any jobs while Cassie was left jumping from position to position. Despite that, I think Daiya still really looked up to Hideo as this cool mysterious figure. Whenever they'd talk it'd be about manly shit. And bikes. So it was all the more traumatizing when he fucked off a few months into Cassie's second pregnancy. Daiya was 7. I picked the name Hideo because its meanings both fit him, and are DEEPLY ironic (excellent, fine/outstanding, hero, manly, husband, and man). It was just too perfect.

Cassie's dad studied abroad in Canada for a while, and while he was there he met the woman who would be his wife. She didn't have much family left in Canada, so they moved back to Japan shortly after Cassie turned 3. I think their relationship was far more loving and they both gave Cassie their all, but they pressured her in her schoolwork and her relationships, and that began to dominate over their love for her. I think Hideo led them to disown her due to the path she went down after meeting him. She was starting to reach her boiling point with him, but after he left, she couldn’t take it anymore. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, and Cassie began to take it out onto Daiya shortly after Mondo was born in a combination of anger and stress. She was never violent with him and broke down crying more often than not, but she still heavily pressured Daiya into becoming a better man than Hideo was and getting frustrated whenever he or his interests were mentioned.

Daiya ran away when he was only around 12, and Mondo was 4. It was impulsive and remained incredibly complicated until he died. A lot of Hideo and Cassie's personality still stuck with Daiya despite everything, and some of their teachings were passed down to Mondo (Did I base most of Cassie and Hideo on that one line of dialogue in the Ch1 investigation? Yes). Mondo doesn't really know what either of them look like aside from fuzzy memories of Cassie, but I do think that they know who Mondo is all too well. Hideo mostly doesn't care, but I think that time spent alone made Cassie feel like she could've given them so much more. She wants to reconnect with Mondo, especially after Daiya's death, but she has no clue how to do that, so in the end she just never even tries.

Design wise I wanted to make it clear that Hideo is. Kinda a scumbag? I don't think Cassie ever finds this out, but he's absolutely cheated on her at least once. Very real chance that Daiya and Mondo have some siblings out there that they don't know about. I also wanted him to be a pretty big influence on Daiya's style of dress, hence the hair being similar to a pompadour.

Cassie was designed to have a lot of features that'd be considered charming. She's got the big ol' doe eyes with subtle heterochromia, she's got freckles, a cute little nose, a rounder facial shape, etc. and etc. Like if i designed how she looked in high school before she entered her deeply problematic relationship, she would have to look really sweet and cute.

I'm a big fan of the idea that the orange part of Mondo's hair is actually the natural part, and it grew back out after she dyed her hair to look more like Daiya's, so she started to use that part for the pompadour instead. She also got Hideo's eye colour and pupil shape, nearly his exact skin tone, his nose, and Cassie's slightly rounder face shape, albeit a bit taller.

Daiya got a very similar hair colour to Hideo, nearly his exact facial structure, a mixture of both Cassie and Hideo's skin tones, Cassie's freckles, her big ol doe eyes plus their hazel colour, and her nose.

[grcyfm]

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 : u-jin bai.

app .

⌜ cha eunwoo, demi man, he / they / him, ⌟  welcome back to hogwarts, U-JIN BAI ! according to your file, you’re a TWENTY-ONE year old MUGGLE-BORN. as i’m sure you remember, last spring had its challenges, but i’m confident you’ll take your studies more seriously this year. as a FOUTH year HUFFLEPUFF, focusing on ZOOLOGY, you’ve got a lot on your plate. our records show that you're COMPASSIONATE and ILLUMINATING however, they seem to have left off that you're STUBBORN and SARCASTIC. if i’m correct, you’re siding with THE LIGHT, which makes sense considering you’re known around the castle for cursed sigils etched on the corners of his lips, odd panda socks poking out from under his pants leg, a camera flash, the scent of lavender lingering behind him, wandering way to close to forbidden forest during twilight. let’s hope you make it through the year in one piece.

statistics .

birth name . bai u-jin

name meaning . his name means blessing. ( pls, i want someone to call him blessing like romantically. )

birthday + age . 23rd of october + twenty-one.

birth place . seoul, south korea.

year . fourth.

gender + pronouns . demi man + he / they / him.

orientation . pansexual + panromantic.

status . single.

species . wizard.

house . hufflepuff.

alignment . light.

wand .

patronus . panda.

languages . korean, english + bsl ( british sign language ) - ksl ( korean sign language ).

personality .

positive traits . compassionate + clever + illuminating.

negative traits . stubborn - sarcastic - naive.

mbti . intp.

moral alignment . chaotic good.

prone to violence . yes, but he doesn't like it... so, no.

appearance .

faceclaim . cha eunwoo.

voice claim . cha eunwoo.

eyes . dark purple. when the light isn't reflected in them, they appear so dark that they almost look black. however, in the light mainly the in the sun, they appear like lavender fields in midday rays. and his eyes happen to be very expressive, you can read them almost like an open book. though the fatigue is notable under his eyes most days due to lack of sleep from studying.

hair . black in colour, when in the sun it almost has a blue tint to his hair. he has a short wolf-cut styled hair do, here.

dominant hand . left.

height . 6'0

build . slim muscular.

tattoos . technically speaking he has none. but he has cursed sigils on the corners of his lips, still very noticeable against his pale gold skin and on his tongue. here.

piercings . both his bottom lobes are pierced.

notable features . a splatter of freckles across his cheeks and nose ridge, noticeable up close up. he has a faint scar across his jugular from his brother's attempt to take his life. his eyes, framed by long lashes. aside from the cursed sigils.

family .

father . bai in-su. †

mother . bai hyun-ae. †

brother . bai man-shik. †

character study .

triggers : violence, blood, murder ( self-defence )

a blessing. was what he was to his mother and father, their second child and always deemed a blessing. despite being a cursed speech user... his parents saw him as a blessing. usually, that would go to someone's head, right ? it would but it didn't, he always stayed humbled and grounded. though that could've been from his older brother's doing, never did the brothers see eye to eye.

and for years it would fester.

constantly at odds with one another. it was exhausting on u-jin, he never could gage if it was for man-shik… every time he tried in vain to being it to a ceasefire it would always flare up again and go out of control. u-jin was far from perfect but he did try to stop the senseless fighting between his brother but it never worked out. and towards the end, he just stopped caring altogether.

start of triggers : violence, blood & murder.

the bitter war between brothers came to a head in the worst ways possible.

man-shik attacked his underarm parents whom were asleep in their beds, killing them. and then went to his brother's room looking for the source of his hatred, he found asleep but he wanted a fight.

startled and alarmed, u-jin woke with a start and was forced into a huge fist fight with his older brother. he got a few really good hits in, trying to block his brother's blows to that of trying to keep him at arm's length. but it didn't stay that way, man-shik pulled out his wand and u-jin's life flashed before his eyes - truly. but somehow in the struggle ( forgetting about his cursed speech, he was panicked ), u-jin was able to reach for his wand on his nightstand.

and then both brothers stared down their wand at one another. of course, man-shik was the first to attack and sliced u-jin's throat but somehow it wasn't the right angle to bleed out but it cause enough pain and blood.

u-jin wasn't able to use his cursed speech as he was choking a little on his blood but he did the unforgivable curse on his brother — he just wanted it to stop.

and it did.

end of triggers : violence, blood & murder.

he laid next to his brother's body for what felt like eternity, going in and out of consciousness. strongly believing this was the end. until the aurors arrived at the bai's residence... the neighbours must've called for them.

there was a trail but that was quickly over and done with as it was an act of self-defence.

not only had he killed his brother but he had lost his parents on the same night, he was only sixteen. and he went to live with his uncle in the uk.

canons .

cursed speech user ; passed down from an ancestor, it usually skips a generation or so but he was the first in quite a long time. has the ability of using simple words and turning them into a curse ( he says blast away, one will blast away ). but it does affect him a lot, causing damage to his throat that he's spitting up blood if he uses it too much.

he's the photographer for the newspaper.

talks in rice ball ingredients as no cursing spells seem to come out of his mouth... though most times signs or uses a device to talk for him.

glossary .

salmon — all is well or all will be well.

kelp — an act of refusal or rejection.

mustard leaf — concern for someone's well-being.

bonito flakes — remarks the negative aspect of a situation.

tuna — call for regard.

tuna tuna — call for recognition/appreciation.

tuna mayo — call for regard ( towards self ).

salmon roe — all is unwell.

pollack roe — curse towards circumstance.

caviar — direct to more significant matter.

connections .

hook-ups. ( want him to get mad bitches, respectfully )

fwb 0/1.

friends.

his slytherin buddy.

[auroradicit]

character sheet.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full name. sabi faelon nicknames / aliases. nah height. roughly 5'9" age. 200-ish (mainverse), appears early- to mid-30s zodiac. I am not inventing a star wars zodiac I do not have it in me spoken languages. basic, bocce, a bit of huttese

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

hair colour. dark brown eye colour. brown skin tone. fair, olive undertones body type. tall and wiry. dominant hand. .....this probably depends on the body she's inhabiting, which is wild to think about posture. pretty decent, she tries to keep it in mind particularly since she trains for flexibility, but long waits in cramped sniper's nests can throw it out of whack. scars. varies, but assuming we're talking about her 'default' body....she's got a nasty slugthrower wound on the left side of her abdomen, and scars from various cuts and scrapes on her upper arms and forearms since she's not as good abt covering those as she is her legs and hands. tattoos. she usually keeps any a body she picks up has--it feels rude not to--but doesn't tend to get any herself. birthmarks. again, varies. she's got a couple moles and freckles in the current one, but nothing super eyecatching most noticeable features. assuming you catch her not loaded for bear, it's probably her widow's peak and sharp cheekbones/chin? that's what I notice when I'm staring making icons, at least xD

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃.

place of birth. [redacted] in mainverse, Fallon, NV in modern verses siblings. worms don't really do....traditional families. parents. see above children. @arc-77's fordo has been thoroughly adopted, no take-backs

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

occupation. bounty hunter. residence(s). man I really gotta name her ship, huh? spends a lot of time on board, otherwise her home port is usually port nowhere. during the time she was working as a member of the cuy'val dar, she was based in tipoca city. relationship status. single criminal record. public disturbances, breaking and entering, destruction of public property ....some places are more or less touchy about what a Guild member does while after a bounty vices. caffeine. a stiff drink after a long hunt. never drugs, she doesn't like the loss of control over her endocrine system.

𝐒𝐄𝐗 & 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 .

sexual orientation. omnisexual and alloromantic preferred sexual role. switch for giving/receiving, submissive if there's a dynamic involved. libido. average, maybe a little on the high side? turn-ons. sadism, knives, self-sufficiency, a good voice, ability to keep up in a spar turn-offs. unnecessary cruelty, bad pheromones (sorry bestie your immune system's gotta be compatible) or bad hygeine, naivety love language. physical touch and acts of service relationship tendencies. flexible. sabi has a very...."take it as it comes, let it go when it ends" attitude towards romance, partially due to how long-lived she is. she does prefer monogamy or closed-polyam relationships. sabi's ride-or-die for anyone she cares about, but her partners get an extra level of devotion. if her partner's comfortable with it, they will sadly be That PDA Couple.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒.

hobbies to pass time. this is such a good question. since she usually works alone, a lot of her free time is spent on the day-to-day realities of that (weapons maintenance, flying, etc.), which for the most part she does enjoy. true spare time...y'know, she has strategy game energy. dejarik, chess, go. she also keeps a journal/scrap journal. little things that help her remember the important days and people over her long life. mental illnesses. the TBI is her excuse for literally everything. don't worry about it. self-confidence level. high. sabi is very comfortable in her skin (so to speak), and has a healthy sense of her own abilities. I wouldn't describe her as a braggart, but she's definitely the type to come across as a little proud if she's not careful.

tagged by: @backwaterscum

tagging: be gay do crimes for pride!

[waitinginthewingsx]

vik jager.

“ i was born dead, mama told me / she said the devils, they didn’t want me. ”

general.

birth name. unknown.      

nicknames. vik. has also previously gone by binx, nikolai, and lilith (lilith was definitely their edgiest phase tbh).

date of birth. unknown. 

age. approx. 26. 

gender. ew no.

pronouns. any.

powers. shapeshifter. 

species ( if not human / mortal ). not human. something demonic, maybe.

sexuality. doesn’t label. in fact, will give a different answer every time you ask. pansexual probably works best though. 

place of birth. somewhere in the outskirts of corona. 

current residence. elias. 

occupation. menace.

appearance.

height. typically 5′9.

build. typically slender. 

hair colour/style. typically platinum blonde, very short, with finger waves. 

eye colour. typically hazel (copying cassandra’s - shh don’t tell anyone), but loves to switch it up.

piercings. septum, multiple ear piercings.

tattoos. it changes. nothing permanent.

notable markings. it changes. sometimes shadows creep across his skin when they’re distracted. also, freckles.

glasses/contacts? no.

faceclaim. tati gabrielle.

health.

physical ailments. none 

allergies. none 

sleeping habits. truly unhinged. has no sleep schedule. will stay up all night for a week straight and subsist of naps, then turn around and get a perfect 8 hours for the next few days.

eating habits. will eat anything. favours snacking. 

body temperature. runs hot. 

dominant hand. ambidextrous. 

drugs / smoke / alcohol? when they get the chance / occasionally / yes.

personality.  

tropes. wild card, lovable rogue, the corrupter, the hedonist, voluntary shapeshifting.

positive traits. adaptable, cunning, charismatic, energetic, bold.

negative traits. selfish, impulsive, guarded, cynical, bad influence.

usual mood. bored. 

likes. acrobatics, cassandra, parkour, unsettling people, sugary snacks.

dislikes. boredom, swimming, crowds, getting attached (it’s complicated).

bad habits. has probably tried every bad habit once. worst is lashing out when they’re hurt.

relationships.

mother. unknown. cassandra jager (surrogate mother / guardian).

father. unknown. 

siblings. none. 

children. none. 

birth order. only child. acts like it.

significant others. none. but there could be :eyes:. 

closest friends. tba.

test.

zodiac sign. scorpio. 

mbti. estp. 

temperament. choleric. 

hogwarts house. slytherin.

moral alignment. chaotic neutral.

skills.

languages spoken. english, german.

drive? yes.

jump start a car? yes.

change a flat tire? no.

ride a bicycle? yes.

swim? yes, but they don’t like it.

play an instrument? no.

play chess? yes.

braid hair? yes.

tie a tie? yes.

pick a lock? yes.

sew? no.

stats.

compassion. 4/10.

empathy. 2/10.

creativity. 8/10.

mental flexibility. 10/10.

passion. 6/10.

luck. 5/10.

motivation. 5/10.

education. 7/10.

intelligence. 8/10.

charisma. 10/10.

reflexes. 10/10.

willpower. 8/10.

stamina. 6/10.

physical strength. 5/10.

battle skill. 5/10.

initiative. 7/10.

restraint. 1/10.

strategy. 7/10.

team work. 4/10.

[dystopiandilfs]

Dream's discord podcast. Basically him answering questions for 2.5 hours. This will sort of be in order but I fucked up my notes so it might not be in order completely. (From 13th May 2021)

For reference the photos at the end are: A prototype of fidget spinner merch as loads of people asked, a reference photo of his favourite merch and a photo he sent of his hair to prove he wasn't a brunette.

•He said his teeth are mostly straight but he's thought about getting Invisalign. He's never had braces. He has a tiny gap in the left side of his mouth and his canines are longer and sharper (vampire arc). He's never had teeth surgery so has his wisdom teeth still.

•He thinks pineapple on pizza is good.

•He likes seafood like lobster and crab. He had crab made in an air fryer last night. He like peas. He thinks quesadillas are good and likes most food.

•He hates Coffee and most drinks

•The Dream Shorts team is Ken who is his personal reminder (Ken's main job is to spam him with texts so he doesn't forget things as he's got a habit of reading texts and not replying) and also comes up with a list of sets for Dream shorts. The builder is a friend and munchymc builder "his talent gets wasted on Dream's shorts but we pay him so"

•His editors are currently Dizzy, Firesale and Mjcr. Willz doesn't edit for him anymore

•The mask animation isn't done but Mask should be released May 21st. He wants to release them together as "the whole song is a double meaning and the whole nuance will be lost without the animation" but no matter if the animation is done the song is getting released on the 21st.

•He and Sapnap eat together often.

•He and Sapnap prefer medium rare Steak

•He wants a home gym it's something he's willing to splurge on. They currently have a weight rack but they haven't even set it up.

•"Eat the rich? Shut up shut up" - Dream

•Talked about money basically saying "Most people don't understand how money works I don't have millions in my bank account it's in assets like merch, land and warehousing for that stuff" (He's not in his landlord arc)

•He's been debating Pride Merch because of Rainbow Capitalism. He doesn't want it too be seen as a money maker and if he does most proceeds would go to charity. He's currently super busy merch wise with Sapnap joining and George in the middle of joining. He did say "Only if the LGBTQ+ community in this community wants it" He thinks he's going to at least change the merch website to a pride one. Sapnap wants to make pride merch including a rainbow flame on his.

•He wants to create a charity that's centered around helping LGBTQ+ one day because he thinks that there's a lack of them. He mentioned that creating a charity was expensive and took a lot and was a complicated process including a board of directors but he wants to do it someday.

•He wanted to buy a bunch of houses in Florida which was a service to house mostly LGBTQ+ youth and people stuck in abusive households for free to get them out of bad home environments. But he didn't because he didn't want people thinking he was profiting of of abuse victims and LGBTQ+ community.

•He said he's terrible with time management and replying to people which is why Ken helps him (and also helps George and Sapnap). He mentioned how Sam messaged multiple times and Dream just forgot to answer but felt bad "I feel like people think I hate them..... Cause I'd be mad if people did that to me"

•He tries to reply to a few texts a day (community number). He also can't do birthday messages everyday because you can only reply at certain times so it's not abusing the system so if you get one it's special. He said he does try but it's got a weird time gap.

•Him and the manhunt winner are trying to come up with a good time to film

•He wants to stream this MCC on twitch and says his team is good.

•He talks about why he's not partnered with Twitch. Basically Twitch has a lock rate (in which you make money) and you legally can't stream on YouTube. So legally if Tommy wanted to stream on YouTube he couldn't. Someone then mentioned how Bad is a twitch partner but still streams on YouTube "Bad streams on YouTube but he has for a while and I don't think that he cares" - Dream

•He likes to reply to every donation he gets on stream and feels bad when he doesn't so he'll turn them off when he streams and wants a platform deal where he can be payed to stream (not twitch). If he gets a streaming partnership he will stream a couple of times a week. He looked in to Facebook but they don't have an alias system meaning you can see everyone's actual Facebook account and personal info, he doesn't like seeing real names on Facebook so it would require a lot of altering if he was to stream there so he's thinking it's probably going to be YouTube.

•He was asked about if his demographic was what he expected and he said he went in with no expectations, he didn't even know what stans were, wasn't really on social media so he wasn't aware of the fan culture. "You guys are a handful sometimes but it's worth it"

•He also mentioned how he and the DreamSMP changed the twitch audience demographic. It used to be male dominated in both streamers and audience and now it's almost split which is unheard on.

•He has 5 fidget spinners in his house. Two in his bedroom. Two in his office. One in the living room.

•He likes his Minecraft skin as he thinks the arm is cook and you never see the rest of his skin really. He says it's unique and different and "me". Dream: You can't even tell half the skins apart on MC.

•He's not lost the motivation to stream. Most of the times if he wants to stream he gets George or Sapnap to do it and he just turns up. It's more beneficial to them as they have donos and subs on. (Don't we fucking know it "can you say hi to")

•He has listened to Lovejoy. Says the ep was great and they're very talented and awesome. Doesn't know what his favourite song is but probably would pick One Day because the chorus slaps.

•RIP to acoustic Roadtrip. He said instead of acoustic Roadtrip we get Mask so no losses today for Dream stans.

•"With Roadtrip I went to Parker and I said Hey I have a story I want to tell through music. I have no experience with that can you help me" He said sure. He crafted the music and melodies and how things are formed where it's catchy. I have less comfort singing that. I love the song and it's my song, it's very representative of me and I'm sure I could sing it but it's a song I'd be kinds of scared to sing live, with Mask I basically did everything. I sat there the entire time and maybe an hour out if the 100 I wasn't in the call. Dream came up with the lyrics and main melody for Mask (First one he's ever come up with) "That was just notes in my fucking voice memos"

•The clip we heard of Mask was a prechorus not the actual chorus. He thinks he'd be more comfortable to do a mask acoustic and it's more melodic than Roadtrip. The chorus also has a lot of instruments similar to Roadtrip. Mask starts of slow and guitar with minimal reverb and is more raw.

• He doesn't want music to be his main thing. It's something fun to do and he's passionate about it as it's a way to express emotions. He wants to release mask then go from there. He wants to release at least one more song but has nothing on his mind currently. His two ideas were Roadtrip and Mask.

•He wouldn't quit his job to become a pizza delivery man.

•His favourite features on himself are eyes or freckles and he also confirmed that he does have eyebrows.

•He was told that Parkour warrior would be bought back some time in the near future and he got excited for it. "Even if I don't win, which I will, it'll be fun"

•Went on about his MCC team but I'm not going to put that in as we should be getting them today. He did say he wasn't on Pink but he did sound confused. (For reference he's always in Pink as it's the last team announced and keeps the hype up by announcing the biggest streamer last)

•Said he and his mum had the Mr Beast burger. He recommends because he likes the avacado. He mentioned how Mr Beast uses "Ghost Kitchens" which is basically where he gives restaurants permission to cook his food so it's restaurant quality food.

•His favourite piece of merch is the circle smile. (The pool photo on Instagram). He said the quality was bad (he worked with a different company and didn't have his own company) and it was elasticy feeling and he's planning on re-releasing it again but with good quality.

•He's started to send merch out in custom packaging. So his bags have the smile and will mostly be green. Sapnap's has the flame and is either black or white. He's also trying to make it so every order has the sticker packs for both him and Sapnap.

•He loves the coins as it's cheaper than a hoodie but still celebrates the milestones and will last a long time. He mentioned how the old coins are getting removed off the site and how if you have any of the coins your special because only a few thousand get made. He's kept around 100 of each coin that he wants to give away in person.

•He wanted to have a cool store where you could access computers that give you access to the DreamSMP in spectator mode. But it's too costly and would require too much time and isn't safe fight now. He doesn't think it'd be worth it financially.

•Most of the hoodie are black instead of multiple colours because of limited supply and covid. Getting the colours are harder because if the pandemic which hopefully won't be an issue soon.

•He wants to do a short meetup tour with Sapnap and George with a few locations in the US (and if others nearby want to join like Quackity or Karl they can). He also wants to visit Australia, UK, Canada, Mexico and Philippines and do something like that there but definitely at least visit with George and Sapnap.

•He's never been to the Philippines but his mum has. He wants to set up a place in the Philippines where he can ship merch in bulk and it would help to reduce shipping. However it would probably be big milestone merch.

•He's not got the vaccine yet but will get it when he needs to. He doesn't leave the house so he doesn't see the point.

•He's the ideas man. George's footcam video was Dream's idea. The T-shirt video was Dream's idea. Most if not all of the Dream Team's videos are Dream's ideas.

•Said he's got a similar/the same hair colour as Froy (Dream buddy at this point the only difference between you and Froy is that one of you is dating Richard Madden /lh)

[rsgguk]

true love, almost always — jjk

↳ aka — 'cause baby you're perfect for me

summary: y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. She knows that he's artistic from the little doodles that appears on her arm. She knows he's athletic from the scrapes that appears on her knees. She also knows that he has pain in the ass friends from the random dick drawings that appears on her forehead

genre: romance, angst, comedy, fluff

word count: 5.8 k

pairings:

Jungkook + reader | soulmates

warnings: so let me tell you, this is probably gonna be a bit inconsistent, I had written most of this during the middle of the night when I had a severe case of the feels. Now this isn't my usual style of writing, most things are in passive form because I'm trying to focus more on how they feel. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go back to this writing style but I had fun generally not worrying on the dialogue.

Y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. In a system where everything marked on your soulmates skin crosses on yours, she knows from the seemingly many doodles that appears on the plan of her hand that he is an artistic person. She knows from the way her knees would appear scraped at times meant that he was either athletic or desperately clumsy. She knows that by the scar that daunted on her cheek that he got in a ’fight’ with his brother. She also knows from the random dick drawings that appear on her forehead that he has the most chaotic of friends.

Jungkook would like to say he knew a lot about his soulmate. He knows by the way tiny little hearts would appear near his doodles that she wasn't the most artsy person in the world, but she could draw a damn to near perfect heart. He knows by the way that small little freckles would gloss over his skin that she was an outgoing person. He knows by the way that shallow cuts would appear on his arms and fingers that she had an asshole cat. He also knows that by the way tiny reminders would appear on his palm that she had a knack for forgetting things (he also knows that her handwriting might be the cutest thing he'd ever seen, but he may be a little biased).

They're sober to the fact that the other exist by the time they're 11. Jungkook was bored in class and started drawing little clouds, trees, the sun with shades on, the whole package on his arm. And then on the expanse of his palm would appear in large curvy letters, 'can you draw a cat?'.

He thinks back to the day and guesses that he didn't really understand the extremity of the situation back then. Everyone had a soulmate, but it was the first time he'd actually 'talked' to his.

He didn't gasp or scream or shed a tear, only complying with her request and drawing a cute little cat next the tree trunk. He'd think he was hallucinating about the request until he watched as a ribbon was drawn and coloured in the middle of the cat's head.

The next week, he would have a fight with his brother that had ended in him getting a cut on his cheek. He doesn’t worry about it, only locking himself in his room and sulking in his sheets. It’s when a few words appeared on his palm that he finally sat up with a smile on his lips. She would write down if he was okay because a cut had appeared on her cheek.

‘I’m sorry’ he’d write.

‘it’s okay my daddy said I look cool’ she would reply, and his cheeks would flush because his mom had always said that a woman’s face was her pride. Jungkook had never understood it back then, because if he could be covered in dirt after a fun game of soccer, and still be called adorable, why should it matter what a girl’s face looked like?

She’d ask what happened and Jungkook would bite down an embarrassed whine. ’My brother said I played with the computer too much so I threw a pen at him’.

‘did you win?’ She’d ask a second later.

’No it hit the floor and bounced to my face’.

‘and then he laughed at me’

‘your brother sounds stupid’

‘he is stupid’

They didn't talk more than that, they were still young and the whole soulmates thing hadn't made sense yet. Jungkook still drew his doodles on his arm and she'd add little details (mostly hearts) around them, a tiny reminder that she was there.

It was barely considered a means of communication but it had morphed into a sense of comfort for Jungkook. He draws the little doodles, sometimes it was of a cat (He would never admit it but he'd learn how to draw a cat because he knew she liked cats). And each time without fail, she'd draw a tiny ribbon on its head.

And then Jungkook entered high-school and he met his friends. His stupid, chaotic, love them to death friends and his soul mate was still there, drawing little heart across his skin. The boys say its cheesy (as cheesy as it is to the fact that she's literally his soul mate) but he really hadn't given a shit.

He'd considered himself a romantic throughout the years, although he's gotten not a single bit of experience, he cries at the ending of titanic every single time and his ideal way of proposal is during the sunset walking across the shoreline of the beach, nightlights littered in the scenery and him on one knee, asking to marry his one and only soulmate.

He tries his best to keep up a mature kind of facade for his soul mate. Afterall, that was what they were into right? Older and more mature men. Sure, they'd like bad boys too, but honestly Jungkook bruises like a peach. His act of maturity consists of drawing thing with 'deeper meaning'. And yes, maybe a cat surfing on the beach tides has a deeper meaning, you never know.

His act is ruined when one day, he falls asleep during lunch after a long night of overwatch (in which he dominated by the way) and wakes up to Taehyung snickering beside him, looking at him with the largest shit eating grin he’d ever seen. Jungkook would shake his head and roll his eyes, dismissing whatever it was that he did.

Later during class, everyone kept giving him weird looks, and his teacher even laughed at the sight of him. It wasn’t until multiple frowney faces appeared on his arm that he really realized that something was wrong. His heart skipped a beat when he answered back with question marks written along her doodles.

‘there’s a dick drawing on my forehead :(’ she’d rely with the same curvy letters he’d gotten used to. And then there was a sound that had left his mouth. A mix between an angry scream and a surprised gasp with a little bit of an embarrassed groan. He’d then realize he was still in the middle of class and that every one of his classmates were staring at him.

His teacher would give him some sort of look between annoyed and amused, and finally asks ’so you finally realized huh?’. Jungkook would splutter on his words and immediately turn towards Jimin and Taehyung. It was barely a second before Jimin had shook his head and pointed at Taehyung. He would finally lift his hand off his mouth and bursts out laughing for a minute or two before outright choking, tears in his eyes.

That day, Jungkook along with Taehyung and (for some reason) Jimin would be sent to the discipline teacher. Jungkook wouldn’t give a shit about being sent to devil’s incarnate, only silently punching Taehyung’s shoulder and cussing it out at him for making him look like a fool to his soulmate.

When he’s home (after a lecture from his mom, a pat on the back from his dad and a high five from his brother), he locks himself in his bedroom and takes a pen from his bag, writing apologies all over his arm. She’d reply a minute later, saying it was okay.

His fingers would then drum along his arm, his leg jumping up and down, trying to figure out what else to say to her. He’d get up the courage and ask her what was her name. She’d respond with y/n and he’d have a smile riding up his lips, saying her name again and again, realizing that he loved how it felt to say her name.

Then the two of them would keep talking to each other, Jungkook constantly rolling up his sleeve to make some room for more words. They would spend the whole night getting to know each other and filling up a whole decade of silence. When they had run out of room to write, she would go on and ask for his number so they could text instead, and Jungkook would get up to his feet, jumping up and down on his heels. He wouldn’t waste a second to write down his number on the little space he had left.

The next day, he had woken up with an especially good mood. An extra jump on each of his step, a large grin on his face as if he hadn’t gotten into trouble for having a dick drawn on his forehead just the day before. Taehyung would expect a more than pissed of Jungkook, maybe a little bit of pettiness in the mix, but Jungkook shows nothing but adoration for him, even going as far as to buy him the apple juice he knows he loves from the convenience store nearby.

Texting her falls so easily in his routine. One second, he’s hesitant to text her, afraid to show her just how much of a dumbass he could be, another second, he’s called her the fifth time in a day because he swears a baby just gave him a nasty look. They connect quickly. She finds out the reason she suddenly gets eye bags after a full night’s sleep with because her idiot soulmate had spent the whole night screaming at wario for cheating at Mario kart.

Taehyung says it’s sickening to see just how lovey dovey Jungkook was (Jimin says it’s nice to see him so in love, but they both knew he secretly hated it too). The way his eyes light up at the sight of her name appearing on his screen.

He gets in trouble more nowadays though, teachers having caught him talking to his soulmate on his arm, and the most embarrassing time they read out his not-so-failed attempts of flirting off his arm to the whole class. Let’s just say he’d gotten teased for the life of him when it reached his brother’s ears (though he supposes his brother isn’t any better when he would literally be a make shift carpet if his soulmate asked for it). The Jeon boys treat their women like proper queens and won’t settle for anything less.

The first time they video call, Jungkook has fixed his hair for the hundredths time, a comfortable (and new that he bought just for this occasion) sweatshirt hung loosely on his shoulders. She’d asked if it was okay if they could do a video call the day before and Jungkook being as whipped as he was, of course agreed with her, only regretting not to be the one who asked first.

He’s so tense that when his phone starts ringing, he nearly chucks it off to the wall. He forces himself to calm down before setting it up on the table and pressing the green button after taking a deep breath. He looks at the screen and watches as her face appears. His heart almost bursts, because he’s thought of this moment a million times. He’d expect her to be something like a glowing figure, that she’d resemble a star and that her voice would sound like a serenading angel.

She’s nothing like he’d expect. She’s not glowing like an angel. Her camera has bad lighting and he could see a few strands of her hair sticking out. When she says hello, it isn’t like an angel, her voice isn’t smooth, a little raspy. But she still manages to surpass all his expectations, and he realizes she’s so much better than he’d ever imagined. His heart beats faster and faster because she’s only said one word, and Jungkook is already falling for her. She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect for him.

It’s going well, very well. There’s a way that she makes him feel, a way that just brightens up his day, and when they have their video calls and she laughs at one of those lame jokes that he’d gotten from one of his friends, her voice just soothes him, lets him relax into his seat and just watch as her eyes crinkle in joy.

 It starts to become a routine, the video calls are weekly but the texting is daily. Whenever he’s nervous about an upcoming exam, he calls her and just listens to her talk about her day, lets her voice fill his ear and calm his nerves. And then she would get off track and asks why is it that he had called her and he’d brush it off, he called to hear her voice, but he won’t say that because it’s too cheesy and he has a reputation to keep.

It’s during one of his classes that he feels it, a gut wrenching feeling deep in his stomach that has him groaning. It’s a different type of pain, nothing like nausea or a muscle cramp, because he’d always considered himself as a person with a great pain tolerance, but at that moment, he had just felt like curling in a ball and crying. Jimin and Taehyung would take him to the clinic immediately, and he’d just have tears rolling down his cheeks, and he’s sniffling and making these weird choking sounds when he tries to smother down his sobs.

He stays there for a while, the curtains draped closed with Jimin and Taehyung just rubbing his back soothingly. He tries to calm down, but every so and then, a sob bubbles up to his chest and a new wave of tear roll down his cheeks. It stays like that for an hour and the pain in his stomach travels up to his chest. His right arm starts to ache and dizziness starts to seep in his head. He falls asleep in the clinic bed, his whimpers slowing down and his eyes drooping heavily.

When he’s back at home, he doesn’t try to talk to his parents. They’d come visit now and then, giving a few hugs and pats on the back. His brother would come by when Jungkook had calmed down a bit, ruffling his hair and saying ‘it’s going to be okay’. But that’s the thing, there isn’t an ‘it’ to be okay. For all he knew, ‘it’ was all okay, everything was going okay in class, but then there was this rush of emotion that came over him and he’d just double over in pain. There was this burning sensation in his gut, something that hadn’t been building but more of an eruption. And then it would slowly cascade to his chest, and then he’d start crying and crying, choking on his sobs.

He’s in his sheets, listening to the sounds of pans clanging from the downstairs kitchen. His mom was cooking dinner, but he doubted that he’d go down to have some himself. The sound of the washing machine clashing against itself. That old thing was always just waiting to give out. The sound of the TV running from the living room. There was always some sort of game his dad would be watching, cheering on for teams he’d never even heard of. These are all sounds he’d never realized he’d taken comfort into. Such meaningless things that were just always there, a consistency that had always reassured him in some way.

He’d just lays there, listening to his own heartbeat. For the first time in hours, he feels relaxed and his breath relax into a steady pace. His eyes almost drift to sleep, because It's been a long day and Jungkook feels exhausted, but then there’s this loud blaring noise that breaks the silence. He knows what it is, someone had gone up and called him again. It would be the sixth call he’d get from his friends.

Only it turns out that it wasn’t his friends, it wasn’t Jimin, nor Taehyung or even Yoongi. It was her, and it terrified him because he’d always smile at the sight of her name, but there was this raw and intense feeling that had him wanting to decline the call. It terrified him because she’s his soulmate and supposedly the ’love of his life’ but he had wanted nothing more than to hang up the call. And it just stays like that, him wallowing in the fact as his phone had stopped ringing, and then a few seconds pass and her name appears again. His arm would suddenly feel heavy at the weight of the phone in his hand. Slowly, he would finally tap on the green button.

Her voice hits him like a wave. Jungkook doesn’t even have the chance to say anything when her voice starts filling his ears. Her voice is raspy and broken, there’s sniffling and whimpering as she rushes through her words. ’I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ she whispers in uneven breathes, and he would have stopped her, to comfort her and ask her why she was crying and that ’it’ was going to be okay. But then there is this sudden realization that hits him that ’it’ wasn’t going to be okay, and he probably wasn’t going to be okay. So, he just sits there as new tears roll down his cheeks.

When she finally speaks, everything just dawns on him. He felt like he was dying because his soulmate had kissed someone, he felt like dying because his soulmate had kissed someone that wasn’t him, he felt like dying because his soulmate’s first kiss wasn’t him, and will never be him. And then all of her other words just go straight through his other ear. He doesn’t hear it when she says that she didn’t want it, or when she says that she didn’t know it was going to happen until it happened, or when she says that she also felt the pain, the suffocating and unrelenting pain, that she also felt like she was dying.

He hears it when she says she loves him.

Jungkook has always one for cheesy romances and tear-jerking speeches. He imagines their first exchanges of ‘I love you’ to be at night, with a sea of stars sunken in the night sky because that was where they would have their first kiss. She would have his jacket that was a little too big for her on her shoulders because the night was breezy and his mom raised him to be a gentle man. Her hands would be in his because she always has cold hands and he always has warm hands.

He would talk about the ‘old times’ like when he had drawn those little cats for her or when he’d waken up to many frowney faces along his arm because his friends yet again drew dicks on his forehead (he should really get some proper sleep). And then he’d try to coax a few tears out of her and end it off with ’I love you’, and because this was Jungkook’s imagination of how things would go, she would also say I love you, and they’d kiss in the night sky.

Jungkook then realizes that nothing he’d imagined will ever go as planned, that they will never have a first kiss, because she’d already had hers with some random asshole, and that they’d never have their first ‘I love you’, because she had already said it through the phone while they were both out of breath and sobbing every drop of tear from their bodies.

He doesn’t realize it, but when he’d finally gotten out of his phase, the call had already ended and his cheeks had become tear stained and his sobs had calmed down to weak whimpers. He realizes that he’d just hung up on her after she’d said she loved him, and he just panics, because she’s going to think he doesn't love her and he should immediately call her and tell her that he loves her, because he does, he loves her like he’d never loved anyone before.

He’d started talking to her in his sophomore years and he was now a senior, and she'd been there in every step of the way. But he just doesn't, he doesn’t tell her he loves her, he doesn’t call her, because he doesn’t trust himself if he does. And she doesn’t call back either.

There are a few times when Jungkook forgets that y/n is his soulmate. He doesn’t know what he’d expect when he doesn’t talk to her in a week. It starts off small. He catches himself dozing off, looking into the distance and zoning out. His friends would ask him if he was okay and he’d reply with ’I’m fine’, even though he knew he wasn't, and that he knew they wouldn’t believe him anyway, because who the hell would be fine yet walk into the classroom with puffy and bloodshot eyes.

And then when class goes on like normal, he’s moving his leg up and down, fingers drumming along the desk, because he swears class had never been this long before. He realizes later that class had always gone on so fast because y/n was always there for him to talk to. He looks back at it as if it had happened years ago, as if he hadn’t talked to her in decades.

The truth is that they haven’t talked in no less than three days, yet he’s been missing her as if he’d gone days without a limb. A piece of him feels missing, torn apart from him and left out to dry. It’s a weird feeling, a suffocating feeling that has him yearning for her, that has him filling his mind with nothing but her. He supposes that was the thing with soulmates, when they were together, it had felt like he was he was over the moon, as if nothing could ever go wrong in his life, but when they were apart, it felt like he was missing a part of himself.

She would nag at him whenever he was bombarding her with doodles on his arm, waiting for her attention so she could drag him from his boredom of class. She’d say ‘you have class’ and he’d say ’I also have a soulmate, and I’d rather pay attention to her’. His friends would tease for it, for flirting and dancing around with her as if it was a game of push and pull, as if she wasn’t his soulmate.

That’s the thing that terrifies him, because as far as he had ever known, having a soulmate was the best feeling in the world. It’s all rainbows and roses, because it had meant that there will always be that one person that just gets you, that just loves you unconditionally for all your flaws and perfections, all your quirks and mishaps. That one person that will always be there for every step of the way. He yearns that, the comfort of knowing there was someone the universe had picked just for him, the missing piece to his puzzle.

And then he meets her, and he realizes just how perfect she is for him.

And then the whole fiasco happens and he realizes just how much it would hurt if he didn’t get his happy ending, because he knows it wasn’t uncommon for soulmates not to work out, usually from the intensity of their emotions for each other.

Having a soulmate had also meant other things. It meant that when you were together, you’d feel the happiest you’d ever be, but if you weren’t, you’d dread every second of your life. You’d feel pain, you’d feel nauseous, you’d feel your body start to crumble. Having a soulmate was almost like a drug, something so addicting that your body starts to dysfunction when you go a day without.

Jungkook still feels it sometimes, when he’s managed to get her out of his mind. There was this sudden jolt of pain that shoot up his chest, causing him to lose focus. And then all he can think about is her, her, her. He wonders if she feels it too, if she misses him too, if she thinks of him too. He realizes how stupid he is, because his phone is right there in front him, and he could end all of this with just one button.

Truth is he’d stopped mulling over the whole kiss thing a while ago, and that he should’ve called her a long time ago, but he was scared, scared of his own emotions, scared of how much he loved her, scared that this whole thing is going to destroy to him.

He wants to talk about this with someone, to anyone, but then it dawns on him that the only person he really wants to talk to about this was his soulmate, and that she was the only person he should be talking to about this. So, he picks up his phone and presses on the name he’d been missing for what felt like decades now.

She answers after no less than a few seconds. She speaks after a second’s hesitation, and her voice is filled with the sort of hope, as if she has done something wrong. Jungkook cuts her off when she starts on her little ramble (a habit he’d learn she had over the years) and apologizes, two words that hits her as hard as a brick. ‘I’m sorry’ he’d say again, and again and again. He says it until he can hear her start crying on the other end of the call. He knows she’s crying in a way that she’s trying to hide it from him, but he’d still hear her weak sniffles and whimpers.

It breaks his heart because he knows he never should’ve hung up on her that day, that he should’ve said that it was never her fault that ‘it’ happened, that he never thought of ‘it’ as her fault, that he was sorry ‘it’ had to happened in the first place

There’s a lot of things he realizes that he should have told her, so he doesn’t give her the time to say anything before he gets everything off his chest. He tells her everything. He tells her that he had never been upset with her, that he was upset with what happened to her. He tells her that he’s scared, no— terrified of how strong his feeling are for her, that the pain he felt that day was never what he’d ever experienced before. He tells her how much he had missed her during his period of stupidity when he decided not to talk to her, that he’d thought of her every second of the day.

And she just swallows in everything he tells her, listening to every word he says without a single interruption. And then they talk, talk, and talk until they shed more tears, because they’d never realized it, but they had always needed this. It’s a bit like clearing the air, speaking up about every and any hesitations they’d have.

They talk until their voices go dry and their eyes droop heavily. It isn’t until then that Jungkook realizes he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in days. Sleeping had always come easy to him, but during the past few days, he would lay down in his bed and just had this queasy and tense feeling.

When they’re nearing the end of the conversation, he knows there’s this one thing he hadn’t said yet, and he knows she’d been waiting for it too, those three simple words that had meant everything to them. He wants to say it, but there’s this one nerve in his stomach that causes his throat to close up when he tries to.

She finally ends the call after hours and hours of talking about their feeling and what they’d miss. Jungkook would again take out his pen, and write the words he’d meant to say in the palm of his hand. I love you.

Jimin shares a look with Taehyung when Jungkook comes to class the next day (he’s always late and it’s definitely not because of his poor excuse of a sleeping schedule), and the next thing he knows, they’re just screaming and hollering before running towards him. Jungkook swears he’s never felt more scared than he was at that moment, with the sight of his two best friends sprinting as if they were about to run them over like the untimely death of Mufasa.

And then they just hug him, stuff him with pats on the back and intense noogies. Jungkook just stands there, accepting it with the most confused expression ever. They go on about how glad they are that he got over whatever it was that had set him in such a sour and glum mood the past week and it puzzles him because he doesn’t remember being that much of a debbie downer.

They prove him otherwise by listing all the reasons he was such a pain to hang out with, because he’d somehow turned into a dictionary of depressing jokes and emo quotes. They end up finishing each other’s sentences, locking eyes when they say the same words and giving each other a bunch of high fives (Jungkook sometimes feels sorry for whoever their soulmates are, because the two of them are so in sync that they were already each other’s soulmate).

They’re interrupted when the teacher finally enters the class and tells everyone (specifically the two of them) to take a seat. They turn to Jungkook one final time and give him a pat in the back because they’re genuinely happy that the kid had no longer seemed so miserable.

Jungkook hadn’t thought hearing ‘I love you’ would change much for him. He’d heard it a dozen times from his parents (never from his brother, but let’s be honest, that’s to be expected) an amount more than you’d expect from Jimin and Taehyung (although Taehyung would say it more to annoy him and it works every single time), three times from Namjoon (which makes him grin more than it should) and once from Yoongi (now that one he wears like a golden medal).

Hearing it from his soulmate hits him in a totally different way. The conversation they had led them to get more comfortable in their relationships, this time acknowledging each other in a more romantic way. The way she says ‘I love you’ during insignificant moments like during a goodnight text or his after his daily ramble on how his friends are a pain in the ass sends him in a sort of high. It makes him giggle and flush and swoon all in the same time. It makes him feel things in a way he never knew he could.

Jungkook would learn that he shouldn’t plan things out as much as he used to, lets himself enjoy the moment for a while. Takes one step at a time, and this time he’s not as terrified to his wits anymore. It turns out when he's not worrying about all of his 'plans', time happens to move so fast.

When he finally sees her, she's got her back turned towards him, she hasn't noticed yet.

Jungkook takes a moment to take it all in. Sparks don’t fly, his hands don’t sweat and his breathing doesn’t pace. There is no nausea or nervousness that bubbles up in his stomach. When he sees her, his heart starts beating faster, but it beats in a way that you see something familiar after a long time, there is this sort of comfortable feeling. There’s a moment of complete peacefulness and serenity when he sees her. He’d never felt more at home.

When she sees him, her knees almost buckle, because he’s there. The boy, the dumbass, her soulmate that she’d been talking to for years now is finally there, and he’s waiting for her, looking for her. Her eyes almost well up in tears and she hates it because she swore to herself, she’d done cried enough times in their relationship, she doesn’t need to add another one to it.

She cries anyways, and she guesses she doesn’t hate it that much after all. Jungkook had managed to overturn all her expectations of their relationship that she’s not surprised that he pulls this either. She’s always known that her forgetfulness would bite her in the ass one day and she guesses she can’t be mad when this happens.

‘4:30 java time café pick up’ and right below on her palm is his handwriting, the handwriting she’s grown to adore and look forward to all these years, is written ’I found you’.

[stars-in-my-damn-eyes]

escher starsinmydamneyes’ multicolour chiss hair hc post

(aka: it’s MY headcanon and that means I get to choose how to liberally abuse the idea of gene codominance in chiss)

Abstract: look, it was never stated that it *wasn’t* a widespread phenotype and i am a proponent of diverse phenotypes (and also of doing whatever the fuck i want)

so. multicolour hair chiss. if, perhaps, you have little to no idea as to what i mean by this, i once decided to draw chiss with multi-colour hair, and have since ran with this idea, and am going to explain it henceforth how the bloody hell it would work in my mind. pictured below are some of my chiss designs to get the gist across. ofc, we’re pretty solidly in AU territory with this considering i just came up with it on the spot and none of it is supported by the actual text, but i have thoughts regardless :D

basically, there are three types of chiss: chiss with monochrome hair (think Thrawn and Ar’alani, who both have a pretty solid blue), chiss with multicolour hair growing in a…. would it be wrong to say roan pattern? you know, like the cows that have patches of two different colours… or more generally, like animals that have patterned coats (basically, the phenotype rather lazily exhibited by my designs of che’ri, wutroow, and ba’kif), and chiss with gradient hair like that of octrimo and yomie (who actually has a double colour-change!! Blue to slightly darker blue to white)

the monochrome hair would can present in a variety of colours, such as blue, red, indigo, silver, and white, though the dominant allele would be the blue, so it would be rarer to see a chiss with, say, white hair, than it would to see a chiss with blue hair - much like it is rarer to see redheads than it is brown-haired people irl :)

unlike in humans, in chiss, the alleles for hair colour can be codominant! this leads to the “roan” multicolour phenotype exhibited in che’ri, ba’kif, and wutroow (who, in my hc, is leucistic!!). this basically manifests as different hair growing in patches, to give a dual- or tri-coloured appearance!

(“escher but if it’s codominance then how can there be three different-” *gunshot* //let’s just suppose that there are some mutations of hair colour genes that code for hair that can present as two different colours being coded for by one gene due to *spins wheel* optical isomerism in the pigment proteins)

codominance in chiss phenotypes is fairly common - it can occur in the skin, too! this is what is occurring in Yomie’s design. It isn’t vitiligo - that would be more regular and less blended, as well as lighter in colour a la irl vitiligo

lastly, the gradient phenotype - this is down to the (*spins wheel again*) denaturing of the dominant pigment proteins after a certain amount of time, leading to the appearance of a gradient in the hair! It is believed that all heterozygous chiss will eventually present with this phenotype if they let their hair grow long enough, however, for most chiss who don’t immediately present with this phenotype, it is likely that by the time the pigment proteins are old enough to start denaturing, that hair would have long been cut off to maintain the health of the ends of the hair - or else, that their particular pigment is stable enough that one would have to wait an ungodly amount of time for the desaturation to occur

it is also theorised that it would present in all homozygous chiss, too eventually, as the pigment proteins in their hair could also denature, leading to unpigmented hair after the area where the desaturation occurred. however, it has been observed that the pigment proteins are more stable in homozygous chiss than heterozygous chiss, and therefore, this phenotype doesn’t present in many homozygous chiss, and thus isn’t considered universal

dyeing your hair!! samakro actually does this - him dying the lower half of his hair in a gradient style is analogous to a brunet dying their hair ginger - imitating a natural phenotype that they don’t have :) of course, with samakro, the giveaway that he does this is the colour of his ombré - blue is the dominant colour in chiss, therefore if it were a natural colour, the blue pigment would be dominant over the burgundy, and samakro’s ombré would be burgundy as the recessive trait is shown when the pigment associated with the dominant gene denatures.

(or, to continue with the obnoxious irl analogue - it’s as if a brunet had dyed their hair a vivid enough shade of red that people would be able to clock it as a dye job rather than a natural hair colour. aka - although samakro is imitating a naturally-occurring phenotype, he is doing it in an unrealistic manner and he isn’t hiding that his hair is dyed)

it’s something of a fad for all chiss - including non with a non-monochrome phenotype - to dye their hair a monochrome white, one of the rarest phenotypes! however, it’s becoming considered increasingly tacky and is falling out of favour :(

the star-like sparkles in octrimo’s hair are a common hair dye!! it’s popular among dark-haired chiss to fleck iridescent dye onto their hair to give the appearance of stars. it’s usually more popular amongst kids and teenagers, but octrimo wears is very well, too :D it imitates the star-like appearance of some chiss freckles (these can appear either bright white or darkly pigmented in colour)

BA’KIF TRIVIA: when he was younger, he had blue hair with sparse, roan silver pigmentation! however, as he grew older and he lost the pigmentation in his hair, it started to be more predominantly silver, and his hair colour ‘reversed’, if you will :) usually, aging chiss simply lose pigmentation in their hair, but in ba’kif’s specific case, it lent itself to a very cool effect.

Thanks for listening to me ramble about chiss hair hcs :D i will love you forever if you read this

[ethereally-ari]

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙰𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍

full name: Arielle Chana Maitland pronunciation: AH-ree-ell CHA-nah MAYT-land  nicknames: Ari, Moth height: 5ft 7in age: 25, though this depends on the timeline zodiac:  Virgo languages:  English, Yiddish, a bit of Hebrew

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.  hair colour:  Dark brown eye colour:  Dark brown  skin tone: Fair, slightly pale body type: Thin and petite, but not gangly accent: New York American  dominant hand: Right posture: Ari tends to hunch herself over a bit, making her posture seem slightly smaller than her true height. She tries to stand tall when presenting herself to others in a professional manner, but ultimately ends up in her slightly closed-off stature. tattoos: None, as they are not allowed in the Jewish Tradition most noticeable features: Freckles dotted throughout the face, intense eyes

CHILDHOOD. place of birth: Brooklyn, New York hometown: Brooklyn, New York manner of birth: Arielle’s birth was something of a spectacle to her family. It was meant to be quiet, but the entirety of the newly formed Congregation Beth Shalom ended up waiting to see the Maitland family and congratulate them. There were no complications, however, and her arrival into the world was rather seamless. first words: Abba (pronounced AH-bah, meaning “father” in Hebrew) siblings:  none. parents: Mr. Ezri Maitland and Mrs. Chava Maitland (Maiden Name: Rosen) ADULT LIFE. occupation: Lab Assistant at Ghostbusters, Inc. , former tutor at New York University and assorted middle schools close friends: Dr. Egon Spengler, Ms. Janine Melnitz, Dr. Ray Stantz, Mr. Winston Zeddemore, Dr. Peter Venkman, Mr. Louis Tully (questionable) relationship status: Single financial status: Adequate, though her spending habits would make one believe her to be broke driver’s license: Yes, though she doesn’t own a car criminal record: N/A, though she’s unsure how long that will last in her current position

SEX & ROMANCE. sexual orientation:  Demisexual, although she doesn’t concern herself with labels romantic orientation: Heteroromantic preferred emotional role: Unsure preferred sexual role: Unsure libido: Low, thought to be nonexistent. Has been known to stare blankly at a PlayGirl magazine and only comment how the unclothed male appears anatomically incorrect. However, her romantic desires are more present, even though she is generally unsure how to express them. turn ons: TBD, praise??  turn offs: Arrogance, handsy people love language: Ari’s way of expressing love is through acts of service. She will go to great lengths to assist others that she loves, and even the most menial of tasks will become important to her if she knows it will make them feel good. In receiving, her love language is quality time and words of affirmation. Arielle appreciates when others take the time to stay with her, engage with her and her interests. In addition, having others affirm her makes her heart flutter. relationship tendencies: Arielle is a silent but powerfully loving force. When she finds someone she loves, whether platonically or romantically, she will go out of her way to show her love. Remembers miscellaneous things about the other person, and will bring it up in conversation with a soft smile. Not big on gift-giving, but if the other wants something, she won’t hesitate to get it for them. Always makes sure that there’s enough coffee and snacks, will sacrifice her own sleep and well-being for those she loves. When she warms up to someone, she may offer very subtle physical reminders of her love. A hand gently placed on the other’s arm, rubbing their shoulder. She’s generally afraid of PDA, but will absolutely lock pinkies with their significant other. ((Headcanon: Arielle bought a slinky for Egon once, complete with a note detailing the history of the slinky, simply because he mentioned having a piece of one at one time)) MISCELLANEOUS. character’s theme song: She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby  hobbies to pass the time: Experimental chemistry, paranormal investigation, visiting museums, astronomy. She enjoys listening to vinyl records, specifically the odd uncategorized vinyls she finds in the back bins of the shoppes.  mental illnesses: While she’s never been diagnosed with any illnesses, it’s suspected that she suffers from generalized anxiety disorder. left or right brained: Both, though most only see her as left-brained fears: Failure, abandonment by those she likes, her own cosmic insignificance, wharf rats

[gingerbreton]

Professional (Adam x f!detective)

Summary:

As they continue to work on the Murphy case, Adam takes his turn 'babysitting' the detective.

Since she uncovered the truth, Adam has seen a different side to Neve Langford.  And it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain professional boundaries.

Notes:

This is set during the 'babysitting' week after the detective leaves the facility, before Murphy's attack.

Rating:  T    Word Count:  1961

[Read on AO3]

The shrill ring of the bell stops the detective in her tracks, and Adam has to catch himself from crashing into the back of her as a pair of fellow early-risers dart from the bakery door and out into the rain-wrapped Square.  He snaps out a hand to stop the door from slamming back into Neve’s face.

A wave of warm air washes over Adam as the door swings open again, carrying on it scents of baking bread and the cloying sweetness of fresh pastries.  He wrinkles his nose at the powerful odours, missing the clean chill of the breeze blowing in from the forests which surround the town.

“I’ll be right with you,” a bright voice calls out from the back at the sound of the bell.

With a brief shiver as the stark temperature change hits her, Neve hurries into the warmth of the bakery.  The swift click of her heels echoing in the quiet space as she makes a beeline for the display of particularly sickly looking breakfast goods.

Adam hangs back by the door, eyes adjusting to the light after the darkness of the early morning.  He passed the bakery on patrol the other night, it’s window display illuminated in keeping with the Square’s aesthetic, though had not set foot inside before.  Nor had he intended to until the detective insisted on breakfast.

This would have been so much simpler if the Agency had insisted the detective remain at the facility.  But here we are...

A large table dominates the seating area.  Adam eyes the way it limits passage through the space to two routes—less than ideal if they have to exit swiftly past an adversary, but he can work with it.  He’s just pondering the strategic pros and cons of the large curved counter when his attention is drawn to the detective.

Neve removes her scarf to shake loose the fine drizzle which clings to the fabric.  She pushes her hair out of the way as she does so.  It’s this motion which catches Adam’s attention, but not what holds it.

Faint bruises paint the detective’s freckled skin, faded to the point of being almost unnoticeable.  At least to human eyes.  To him it’s blatant evidence of where bloated fingers constricted around the detective’s throat.  An injury, Adam is guilty to admit, he did not notice until after the fact—not until Neve had collapsed in his arms.

The detective’s hair falls back into place, hiding the marks that even she seems to have forgotten behind a waterfall of soft strawberry blonde.  

But a thought lingers in Adam’s mind;  humans are fragile.

This isn’t a startling revelation.  He’s known it for over 900 years.  In the past it was little more than an inconvenience—something to take into consideration when dealing with them.

When did it become a concern?

Adam shakes his head to dispel the thought.

“Good morning, Haley.”  

Neve greets the proprietor, a warm smile settling on her lips.  It’s the kind of warmth that draws people to her—that draws him to her.

Before this gentler warmth grew between them, the detective’s temper used to flare like a wildfire—his too, if he’s honest—threatening to set them both alight.  Now the fire that seems to burn at the heart of Neve has settled into a welcoming glow.  It makes her eyes sparkle, and Adam struggles to look away—wishing he could hide behind his aviators without drawing comment.

Whether she knows it or not, the detective is making his task difficult—crouching to peruse the selection of pastries, the edge of her lip, not fully bitten, just caught by a drag of her teeth as she scans her choices.  Decision made, her lip slips free when a smile wins out and she points to a particularly plump croissant.  

Adam snaps his gaze away.

The task of drowning out their conversation is made easier when it descends into inane small talk.  He diverts his attention back to where it should be—watching for threats.  It is his turn to babysit the detective after all.

The large windows of the shopfront are fogged with thick condensation from the chill of the late winter air hitting the warmth of the bakery’s interior.  He frowns at the lack of visibility out into the Square beyond but resists the urge to wipe away a section of the misted glass.

“Adam-”  Neve’s voice stumbles to a stop, correcting herself when Adam’s gaze flashes to her.  “Commanding Agent, did you want anything?”  She pauses, something tentative—hopeful even—in the look she gives him.  “My treat.”

“That isn’t necessary, detective,” Adam replies stiffly.  

His throat dries at the sudden memory of Neve's name escaping his lips in the lab a few days before.  ‘I prefer you call me that.’  More so at the memory of the way she looked at him in response.

“But thank you.”  He adds with a cough as her gaze flicks away, wondering if he imagined her shoulders sag.

‘I think using your title would serve us better since we are working together.’

Adam has been doing this job, or some version of it, for centuries.  Times change, the Agency adapts, people come and go, and never once has he struggled with professionalism.  With boundaries.  

But now his words are getting away from him, he has to check every action to maintain these boundaries, to remain professional.  Because that’s all this is.  Professional.

As soon as Murphy is caught the team will move on.  He will move on.

‘But I’m glad to know we are on good enough terms for first names—Neve’.

The first had been a slip, but the second, in spite of himself he’d allowed her name to linger on his tongue.  Savouring it one last time before he drew a line.  Rebuilt that boundary.  Adam has always considered himself a strong-willed man, and that should’ve been an end to it.

But then Neve smiled.

He’d seen her smile before—obviously—but not like this.  Not for him.  Impossibly soft and sweet and shy.  A blush colouring her cheeks, heart fluttering as she held his gaze.

The sight etched itself onto his memory.

A wave of panic hits Adam as he sees the detective move to sit at the large table, only then realising how long he’d been lost in thought.

“We should be going,” he blurts.  The thought of sitting alone together—Adam scolds himself for his flustered reaction.  “To meet the other at the station.”

“Oh—of course.”  

A confused frown tugging at her brow, Neve turns to Haley who is already transferring her coffee into a takeaway cup.

It’s not until the detective is sweetening the drink that Adam takes in the sheer size of the thing.  Despite the blanket of frothy milk, there’s an almost overpowering scent of espresso.  Neve pours in one sweetener, and then a second.

Adam wrinkles his nose, a judgemental frown creasing his brow.

“You’ll not taste that with your breakfast.”

Neve meets his eye, a familiar stubbornness catching in her eyes.  She picks up a third sweetener, tears the packet open with her teeth and pours it into her drink, all without breaking his gaze.

Adam rolls his eyes, drags the door open and heads out into the cold, but not before catching the smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

----

Dawn light is beginning to daub hues of pinks and orange across the undersides of the thinning rainclouds.  The downpour has slowed to a light drizzle which hangs like mist in the air, droplets quickly clinging to the wool of his coat.  

The clocktower declares it’s a little after seven thirty as Adam strides across the pavement, pausing only when he realises that the detective isn’t at his side.  This isn’t unusual in itself—between those ridiculous heels and fitted skirts, it takes Neve two paces to keep up with one of his—but this time there’s no click of heels following him.  

Though there is the increased patter of her heartbeat.

“Detective?”

He turns in time to see her linger in the doorway, deep-green gaze furtively scanning the Square before she steps out.  Adam can feel the nerves radiate from her as she hurries to his side.  

It wasn’t long ago that he lamented the detective’s habit of rushing off into trouble, but now, as she stands glued to his side on the cobbled streets of a town she’s called home her whole life, he finds himself half-grieving the freedom that came with her naivety.

“You are uncertain.”

The statement catches Neve off guard, her heels skittering on the slick cobblestones as she snaps to look at him.  Adam instinctually reaches out to steady her, but swiftly pulls his fingers back before they brush the small of her back—burying the offending hand deep in his coat pockets.

“The fact that Murphy is a vampire still concerns you?”  Adam hushes his tone, despite the empty street.

A slight frown knots Neve’s brow, her lips moving around a thought.

“It’s not that,” she says after a moment, pointedly avoiding Adam’s gaze.  Pulling her collar up high to guard against the rain, she hurries across the street.  He follows, matching her pace with ease.  “What Murphy is on a biological level is irrelevant.”

Adam raises a brow, though he shouldn’t be surprised; she’d looked at the evidence, considered the blood results, and accepted the true nature of Unit Bravo with little more than a dry comment about how they should get a DNA database entry sorted, unless they wished to be named after the station’s pathologist.

“It’s just...the balance of everything shifted overnight,” Neve continues.  “I went from being a professional trying to catch a murderer, to being his next victim.”

Her voice catches, but she coughs it off before Adam has a chance to say anything.  

“You know, they tried to recruit students to take part in medical trials while I was in college.  For cash.”  She takes a long sip of her coffee before trying to smile, as though there’s a joke in there somewhere but she can’t decide if it’s funny.  “I wasn’t interested then either.  And I doubt Murphy offers better pay than the drug companies.”

The laugh that accompanies her slipping smile is breathy and lost in thought.  Without seeming to notice, she fidgets at the cut across her palm.

“I don’t want to be a victim.”

She seems to startle herself with the admission—a rare confession of vulnerability from a woman who insists she can take care of herself.  Adam’s brows furrow deeply under a weight of concern.

“It will be alright.”

You will be alright.

“I know it will.”

The vulnerability is gone.  Neve sets her lips into a tight line.  Stubborn.  Determined.  If it wasn’t for the nervous fluttering of her heart, he might even believe her.

Adam’s lips move for a moment as he tries to conjure an adequate sentiment to put Neve’s mind at rest, but his words fall short.  Instead he sets about watching their surroundings with redoubled diligence—as though the action may at least allay some of her fears.

“Adam…”  Neve almost reaches out to him, he freezes, watching the motion, but she thinks better of it.  “I know it will.”

Her expression softens as her eyes finally meet his—stubbornness waning to give way to something else.  Adam could be mistaken, but buried deep, warming the dark green of her eyes, there’s trust.

Their gazes break apart under the weight of the heavy silence that follows, and they make for the detective’s car without another word.

Adam will not let anything happen to her.

And he tells himself there’s nothing more to it than that.

[polaroid15]

Of Flying and Falling

Summary: On their way home from a fancy conference on the coast of Vancouver, Tony and Peter's helicopter crashes, ending what should have been a perfect weekend filled with maple ice cream and sea water in a desperate battle for survival.

Read on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534992

---

When Tony wakes he wishes oblivion would pull him straight back under. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way. Countless nights of parties and post-battle aches and pains have granted him as much.

Today it’s not much different.

He knows his eyes are open, though he can barely see straight, the world a mess of blurry colors and a fierce pain connecting his brain to his neck and spine. At first he thinks it’s a migraine, but a throbbing pain in his leg tells him otherwise. He squints through the haze of pain to assess the source of his hurt and sees, in striking double-vision, his right leg crushed between sheets of dull metal. He stares at it with wide eyed confusion until it clicks.

A trip to Vancouver. A fancy conference. Maple ice cream by the ocean.

The helicopter- it had gone down.

God, how he wishes it could’ve just been a migraine.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and forces his mind to focus on his breathing. How in the hell had they crashed? Seriously, what were the goddamn chances?

He inhales, holds, exhales, holds. The air around him comes out in a faint wisp of fog, though he doesn’t feel cold.

He feels better.

A flash of a memory runs across his weary eyelids. He sees the pilot limp in his seat and hears panicked yelling in his ears. He sees a pale, freckled hand on his arm that connects up to Peter’s face, eyes wide and panicked. He’s holding onto Tony so tightly that he knows with a surety it will leave a bruise.

A scared kid, plummeting out of the sky.

Oh God.

“Peter!”

Tony winces as he tries to shift in his seat. The skin underneath his seatbelt aches as his fingers struggle to unclick the metal. Only now as his vision clears does he notice the pilot ahead of him, neck bent at an impossible angle.

“Christ. Christ!.”

Numb, he turns to look beside him and sees Peter pressed against the shattered glass of his window, eyes closed and covered in blood. His small hand is still stretched out towards Tony in what could’ve been a childish gesture, though empty and dripping with crimson.

He can’t tell if he’s breathing.

“P-Peter.”

Tony remembers it all now. How he’d pulled Peter out of school early to join him on the trip. How excited he had felt to show Peter off to his colleagues and for Peter to experience the conference. How he and Peter had sat on the coast, breathing in sea water and Peter facetiming May in front of a Canadian flag, smiling wide.

“Kid-” His breath freezes into a block of ice in his chest as he shoots his hand to the side, reaching desperately for the boy. It hits the damp material of Peter’s sweater first, once grey but now the colour of old rust. Swallowing against a sharp pain in his throat, he curls his fingers weakly around the fabric and tugs at it. Peter’s head slides further down the window, leaving a gruesome red smear against the glass in its wake.

Peter doesn’t stir.

Choking on air, Tony tries again, this time more intently. It makes his head spin. “Peter, wake up buddy.”

Still unresponsive, Tony feels his mind draw a blank and he drops his hand. His chest is tight and his heart is beating impossibly fast, so much so that he can feel his pulse in his temples. Through the harsh staccato of his breath he’s vaguely aware of the wind whistling through the cracks and gaps of the damaged aircraft. It sounds threatening, as if the outside world is trying to claw its way towards them and finish them off; to take Peter away somewhere Tony can’t follow.

He tries to breathe, can’t, and without much grace wiggles his fingers under the kid’s throat, praying for a pulse. After a moment of agonizing patience, he feels it. A beat of life.

“Pete-”

His relief is joined with an unwarranted sob as Peter groans. The pressure in his chest loosens, even if only slightly, and he continues to encourage the boy back to consciousness. “Earth to spidey.”

“F’ve more minutes.”

“Oh lordy. Peter!”

Ever so slowly, Peter shows his eyes. Tony watches brokenly as they fill with confusion. “Wha?”

“It’s okay kiddo. It’s okay. Look at me.”

“What?” Peter says again. His head pulls away from the glass and Tony winces at the tiny shards of it embedded in the side of his face. With great difficulty, Peter’s eyes reach Tony’s own. They flicker with understanding, even fear. “Tony? Y-you’re covered in blood.”

“I know. We had an accident.”

Breathing becoming more laboured, Peter tries to sit up and cries out as he does. His hands reach up to ghost at his abdomen where the seatbelt is still pulled tight. “Oh,” he says. “Tha’s not good.”

A familiar sting erupts in Tony’s eyes and he swallows against the tightening of his throat. Not good. So not good. “Breathe Petey. We’re going to be fine. We have to get out, though. Can you move?”

Still obviously struggling with basic comprehension, Peter nods hastily a couple long seconds after the close of Tony’s question. With shaking hands, the boy reaches for his seatbelt and grits his teeth as he pulls it apart. When it loosens he leans back with wide eyes as if blinking away stars and doesn’t respond when Tony tries to soothe him.

“Take it slow. Take your time.”

Peter is still staring heavily at the dented ceiling of the helicopter, breathes stilted. “The- the pilot?”

Looking over at the broken man, Tony feels his stomach tighten. “It doesn’t look good Pete.”

“Oh.” To Tony’s horror, a tear appears against the blood and grime on the kid’s cheek. His head rolls to look at Tony, fever bright eyes landing on his leg. “Tony-”

“I know,” he says tightly. The acknowledgment brings a fresh wave of pain over his body that makes his stomach twist into knots. “I’ll need your help to get it free. Think you can circle around and pry it out for me?”

Peter blinks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help to get free. Then I can help look you over. Okay?”

“Oh. O-okay.”

Tony watches closely as Peter curls his scraped and bruised hands around the door of the helicopter and pushes it ajar. It brings with it a gust of bitter air and they both shiver fiercely against it.

“Remember to take it slow buddy.”

Nodding, Peter uses the top of the door to shimmy himself to the edge of his seat, grunting through the pain. He must lose his balance because in the next second, he’s gone. Tony hears him hit the ground hard. Then silence.

“Peter!” Tony moves to help the boy and nearly screams when the movement pulls on his trapped leg. He grinds his knuckles into his forehead and fights to regain air in his chest. When the fit passes, he trusts himself to speak once more. “Peter! Are you okay?”

There’s another beat of long, painful silence before he hears the rustle of leaves. Peter’s head appears at the foot of his open door, pupils blown wide and looking dazed as ever. “‘M good. S’ry.”

Something twists savagely in Tony’s gut. God. He should’ve waited for Peter to get more oriented- should’ve made sure he was ready to move. All his rational thought has seemed to drift far away like a cloud from the sky they had fallen from.

“‘M coming.”

Before Tony can even open his mouth Peter is stumbling out of sight. He practically holds his breath until he hears the light scraping of metal against his own door and helps Peter pull it open. The movement must throw Peter off balance again because he falls backwards onto his butt, staring amazedly up at Tony like he had no idea how he got there.

“Careful bud,” Tony frets. He leans down and reaches out a hand to help Peter up, who takes it weakly.

“S’ry,” Peter says again, shaking his head. “Dizzy.”

“No kidding,” Tony agrees. Up close, he can truly appreciate how mauled the kid’s head is; thick blood coagulating against his temple and in his hair, leaving a gruesome trail all the way down to the neckline of his sweater and out of sight. He doesn’t even want to think of everything he can’t see.

Peter falls against the body of the helicopter, hands ghosting over the crunched metal around Tony’s leg. After what must be some delirious consideration, Peter’s hands find themselves on each side of the opposing medal. Without warning, he pulls.

They both scream.

It takes a long time for Tony to see anything other than the sudden whiteness that has dominated his vision. When it clears, he finds his leg is free. Very broken, burning with pain, but free. He chokes on his tears and swallows the acid in his throat.

“G-good job kid.”

Silence.

“Kid?”

Tony whips his head to the side and braces himself against the interior of the helicopter as his vision tilts and slides like a damn kaleidoscope. When it returns to an equilibrium, it nearly whites out again in sheer panic.

Peter is sprawled out on the grass on his back, lax face tilted up towards the sun. Tony’s too antic to tell if the kid is breathing and every shred of common sense flies away from him as he pushes himself out of the body of the aircraft.

He lands next to the boy and chokes on a scream when his bad leg hits the ground. He does throw up this time, shuddering against the pain of it all. A faint ringing has started in his ears, but none of it matters. All that matters is Peter.

With shaking hands Tony reaches to find the kid’s pulse, this time on his wrist, and collapses in on himself when he finds it for the second time. It’s fast and thready, but there all the same.

“Thank god,” Tony breathes. He crawls closer and taps on Peter’s cheek. The blood on his skin sticks to Tony’s fingers. “Peter. Pete.”

This time Peter’s ascent back into consciousness is easier. His eyelids pull up to half mast and he hums, head turning ever so slightly to meet Tony’s worried gaze. Everything in Tony’s chest seems to melt as he studies his kid. He brushes the hair out of Peter’ face, hand lingering. “What happened bud?”

“Dunno,” Peter replies honestly, eyebrows pulling together. “Hurt.”

Tony takes it as his invitation to check what injuries the boy’s been hiding. Peter watches detachedly as Tony pulls up the hem of Peter’s sweater and gasps at what he sees, limbs going numb and his pulse doubling in tempo.

All the skin Tony can see is a dark, molten purple, nearly black. In the worst of the bruising Peter’s skin is raised in ugly irritation. Tony’s no doctor, but he’s sure the seat belt had cut into his gut and wouldn’t be surprised if the kid was sporting some broken ribs or bruised organs.

Internal bleeding, his mind supplies, but he pushes it away.

They need help. Badly.

“Cold.”

Tony snaps his head towards Peter, finding him with his arms curled feebly around his frame and the setting sun casting long shadows across his face.

Not good.

Gears spin and catch in Tony’s head. “Hang on kid,” he says, then staggers to his feet, using the body of the helicopter to keep himself from falling. Fearful for what he might find, he heaves open the door to the cockpit and uses every last bit of strength to pull himself inside.

“Williams?”

Tony reaches out his hand slowly and rests in gently on the pilot’s shoulder. When it doesn’t illicit a response, his fingers ghost through the blood and broken glass to find one of the man’s veins. Unlike Peter’s, it’s still against his skin.

“Oh Christ.”

Tony sits back against his seat, hands trembling violently. Though thoroughly surrounded in it, the air seems to vanish from the atmosphere, leaving him gasping. God.

“Tony-”

A voice through the haze. He feels a warm hand on his thigh.

“Mr. Stark. Look at me.”

Slowly, he does, aware as if from a great distance Peter’s worried eyes. The kid is leaning heavily against the opening in the cockpit, looking faint but determined. “It’s not your fault. You have to breathe.”

It takes some time. It always does.

Again, Tony breathes.

“Good,” Peter mumbles in relief, head dipping forward. Tony snakes his hand up to his chest and feels the evidence of his heart working underneath the layer of grime and singed clothing constructing his shirt and takes a long moment to really feel it.

Eventually, the universe rights itself.

“Sorry kid.”

Peter shakes his head, but doesn’t raise it, body lax with exhaustion. If he hadn’t known any better, Tony would’ve thought the boy had fallen asleep standing against the side of the aircraft. His small voice travels up and Tony barely catches it. “D-does the radio work?”

Feeling dumb for not thinking of it sooner, Tony looks hurriedly towards the contraption. It’s crushed, just as his leg had been. Nothing more than useless scrap metal.

“Nada,” he chokes.

“Phone?”

Tony grits his teeth, pulling his phone out from his suit jacket. The cracked screen displays his worst nightmare. “No service.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The sun is barely visible through the trees now, the last of its light turning the pine needles gold. Tony sees Peter shiver once more, this time harder, and he pulls himself towards the edge of the seat. “It’s starting to look like we’re going to have to stay the night kiddo.”

Peter shifts, allowing Tony to drop to the ground beside him. He looks distant, like all the times in a post-spidey incident they’ve had to hook him up to an IV filled with the good stuff. “The night,” Peter repeats, slurring his words. Then he laughs. “Camping.”

Against his better judgement, Tony smiles. “Yeah. Just like camping.”

“I’ve never been camping.”

“Well, there's a first time for everything.”

Peter laughs again, but this time, it tapers off into a grimace. The boy crumples like a poorly stacked card tower and Tony lunges to catch him, leg igniting in bright pain at the sudden movement. They end up in a tangled pile of limbs on the forest floor.

“Peter?”

Heart thundering once more, Tony raises himself and turns the kid’s chin into his line of sight. Contrary to his suspicions, Peter is blinking up lazily at him, expressionless but conscious.

“Answer me bud,” Tony says loudly, raw anxiety flooding every nerve in his body. His hands ghost over the kid’s abdomen and then his face where his head is still leaking blood. “Peter,” he says again, this time more urgently. The kid’s eyes remain painstakingly vacant. “Talk to me.”

The sunset shines like fire against Peter’s face. The young hero blinks, then blinks again. Slowly, Tony sees recognition return. He whimpers and Tony’s eyes well up with tears. “Peter? Can you hear me?”

Peter nods.

“Good, good. Can you tell me your name?”

Peter considers it for a moment before clearing his throat. It must cause another spark of pain because his eyes screw closed before reopening once more. “Peter.”

“And who am I?”

“Tony.”

“Great job kiddo. You’re acing my test. One more question, alright? How many fingers do you see?”

The confusion is evident on Peter’s face as he squints towards Tony’s raised hand. After a long painful silence, he gives up and falls back. “Six?”

If the fear shows on his face, Peter doesn’t pick up on it. “Not quite,” he says sourly, curling his hand back into a fist. “But that’s okay.”

Peter hums. “I’m cold.”

God, he’s never felt so useless in his life. Tony bites his lip hard and stares into the wide expanse of wilderness around them. He wonders if they’re still in Canada or if they had managed to cross the border.

Regardless, they need a fire.

“I hear ya kiddie,” Tony says. A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through his veins, numbing the raging pain in his leg. He runs his hands through Peter’s hair and the boy leans into the touch, eyes fluttering. “I’ll get us a fire started, okay? Stick tight.”

“Mmm?”

“Stay here,” he repeats. “I’ll be right back.”

But Peter doesn’t respond.

Gritting his teeth, Tony stands once more. He limps away from the helicopter and braces himself against the nearest tree to blink through the stars collecting in his eyes. Though he’s only moved a couple steps, he looks back towards Peter, the boy unmoving in the grass.

“Oh god.”

The adrenaline fades fast. Tony uses all of it he can to snap thin branches off surrounding trees and limp them back over to the helicopter. Everytime he deposits a load of wood he crouches down to make sure the kid is still breathing.

He makes three trips. By the fourth, he can barely stand and the sky is dark.

Peter doesn’t stir as Tony drops down to the earth beside him. He lets the kid sleep on as he arranges the wood together over a mound of disrupted dirt where the helicopter had sheared the earth clean. He grabs a fistfull of dry grass and tucks it into the center of his structure. Then, using the blessed lighter in his pocket, sets it ablaze.

It’s weak but functional and Tony nearly collapses at the relief of the flame. It illuminates the small area around them and Tony uses it to crawl towards Peter, shaking him awake. The boy’s eyes are completely delirious as he grapples to come back to himself.

“What?”

“We got a fire,” Tony explains gently. Under his touch, Peter’s skin is iced. “Come warm up.”

Nodding, Peter allows Tony to hoist him into a sitting position. The movement must pull at the injury in his gut because he grunts through clenched teeth, nearly collapsing back down. Tony catches him at his shoulder before he can, noticing the thin sheen of sweat on the kid’s neck and forehead with worry. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “Easy does it.”

After another series of awkward and painful maneuvers they end up leaning against the metal of the helicopter, side by side and the fire glinting like magic in front of them. He feels Peter relax against his side, the kid’s head falling to rest heavily on Tony’s shoulder.

He thinks of hours before when he and Peter had been enjoying matching maple ice creams. How they hadn’t shared a single care in the world.

Stupid of him to believe it could last.

Peter shifts against him, pulling him away from his thoughts. He’s looking intently into the fire. “Marshmallows?” He asks.

Chuckling, Tony holds him tighter. “Sorry kiddo. Not this time.”

“Bummer.”

The attempt at humour dies like the sparks shooting up from their small flames and Tony feels the dread creeping back into his bones like a disease. This is all his goddamn fault. “How’re you feeling kiddo?”

Peter hums as if in deep thought. The blood on his face is bright and unrelenting in the glow of the fire, like some permanent reminder of Tony's failures. “Did you know my parents died in a plane crash?”

Tony jolts, the response hitting him like a freight train. He rubs Peter’s arm as his throat tightens. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“They must’ve been really scared.”

“Are you scared Peter?”

Slowly, Peter shakes his head. “No. Got you.”

Swallowing his tears, Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s temple. He grapples with his words, a deep sorrow replacing his physical pain for a brief moment. “Your parents had each other.”

As if agreeing, Peter makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “I wish I could’ve known them better.”

“They’re with you,” Tony assures quietly. He moves his hand to place it against the boy’s chest, the fabric warm from the fire. “They’re always with us, Pete. Our family never leaves us.”

Peter smiles. Even through the blood and dirt and utter delirium, he looks happy. “You’re family.”

Tony’s chest tightens.

“You won’ leave me. Right?”

“Never,” he promises.

Peter smiles again. There’s blood on his teeth Tony hadn’t noticed before and he hopes to god it isn’t new. “I’ll never leave you either.”

“Good,” Tony says. He pulls them closer together, trying his best to ignore the numbness in his toes. “I’m going to hold you to it Parker.”

“Mmm.” Peter’s smile falls slightly, eyes drifting closed. “M’kay.”

Tony feels his own eyelids drooping. He surveys the kid through heavily lidded eyes. “We checkin out?”

“Mm.”

Peter’s weight increases against his side as he falls asleep. Tony rests his head on the top of Peter’s curls and soaks in the warmth of the fire. For some strange reason, he feels a calmness he can’t describe. In fact, he can hardly feel the pain in his leg anymore.

Within seconds, he’s asleep.

---

When Tony wakes up the next morning, their fire is dead.

The ashes still smoulder, sending thin wisps of smoke up into the bright light of the morning. For a moment he lies still, blinking away his incoherence and moaning when his leg twists in a horrible pain.

God, he’s so screwed.

A chill rushes over him and he pulls his jacket more tightly around his frame with numb fingers. The warmth Peter had provided throughout the night is gone.

“Peter?”

Tony forces his eyes to open fully, turning his head to his left. He expects to see the kid curled up in a ball or leaned back against the aircraft.

Instead, he doesn’t see Peter at all.

“Damn it.” A stroke of fear beats hard against Tony’s chest like a drum. He scrambles in the dirt, sweeping his eyes over the clearing in hopes to find the missing boy. His breath hitches and stalls as he tries to curb the mounting panic.

Then he sees him. The boy is across the clearing, laid out on his stomach and unmoving as if he had fallen.

“PETER!”

Tony tries to stand and fails. As soon as he puts pressure on his crushed leg it sparks in agony and his knees buckle. He claws at the dirt, vision white, and for some time is quite unaware of anything past the lightning rods of hurt in his bones.

Vertigo washes over him as he twists on his side. Slowly, the world swims back into focus. God. Not doing that again. Taking deep, lung shattering breaths, Tony pulls himself to his knees.

“Peter!”

Again, the boy doesn’t move. Tony swears and hobbles forward on his hands and good knee, dragging his injured limb behind. By the time he reaches the boy, his muscles are shaking and he has sweat dripping in his eyes. He uses the last of his rapidly depleting strength to heave Peter onto his back.

“Kid?”

Peter’s face is more pale than Tony has ever seen it. His stomach twists and he raises the hem of Peter’s shirt once more, gritting his teeth at the unimproved arrangement of bruises and welts. If anything it’s gotten worse.

“Come on,” Tony urges, lightly shaking Peter’s arm. “Wakey wakey.”

The world seems to pause on its axis as Peter’s eyes slowly drift open. There’s absolutely no coherence in them, and it takes Tony another five minutes of talking to get the kid to even look at him.

“Tony?”

“Yeah kiddo, it’s me,” he says, voice thick. “What’re you doing all the way out here?”

“Here?” Peter shifts, cries out, and fights to breathe. His eyes snap shut and his fingers curl weakly in the grass as he writhes against the pain.

“Christ.” Tony’s hands hover uselessly over the boy, scared to even touch him. “Kid? You okay?”

“No-no!”

Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the exhaustion. Hell, maybe it’s just the sheer audacity of the situation, but soon they're both laughing. It’s choked and bizarre and so astronomically far from humour.

Eventually, their delirious chuckles taper off into heavy breathing. Peter looks up at him with eyes that tell Tony he’s probably seeing in double again.

“Why’d you leave the helicopter?” Tony asks. “You can’t scare me like that Pete.”

“Sorry,” Peter says. His hands are still wound tightly into the earth. “I was- I was- I thought I heard Ben.”

Tony frowns, leaning forward to press his fingers against the wound in Peter’s head. It trickles blood at his touch and Peter swats him away. God, he wishes he had the technology to tell him exactly what was going on. He’s no doctor, but he’s pretty sure hearing the voices of deceased relatives is not a good sign.

“Don’ worry,” Peter says as if reading his thoughts. “I’m not crazy. Just got confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry Pete.”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know.”

Peter sighs out a shallow breath, staring up into the grey sky. “I don’t know if I can move.”

Trying to keep the panic off his face, Tony doesn’t bother arguing. He knows the boy is right. They’re running out of options. No food, no water, and both injured to hell.

“That’s okay,” Tony says. There’s a deep sadness in his chest that he can’t quite place. “Rest up here for a bit. Get that spidey strength back.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Not so good,” he replies honestly. “But don’t worry about that right now okay?”

“M’okay.”

It doesn’t take long for Peter to nod off again. Away from the cover of the helicopter, they’re much more exposed. Tony knows realistically that they won’t survive much longer out here. He knows realistically that he should find them shelter, maybe even water, but the idea is too much a fantasy to ever be achieved in his current state.

It’s out of his hands, now.

---

Harsh coughing brings Tony out of a fitful slumber. He doesn’t remember falling asleep but surely he must have, the sky now painted in neon oranges and pinks as opposed to the glare of the morning. They’re still lying in the middle of the clearing and Tony can’t feel his fingers and toes.

And Peter? Peter is choking.

Tony pushes himself towards the boy, biting his cheek harshly when his leg flares with pain. Peter is turned on his side, clutching his abdomen with both hands and struggling to breathe. There’s thick red blood spraying out of his mouth with each cough and Tony watches in horror as it doesn’t stop.

“Peter?”

If the kid can hear him, he doesn’t acknowledge it. The coughing persists, the bottom half of his face painted red.

He almost doesn’t notice the plane.

Tony feels frozen. He’s sure Peter is dying.

“Tony!”

The voice is distant. Tony feels strong wind whip through his clothes, his hair. He holds Peter’s hand and rubs his back.

“Tony!”

He spares a glance away from Peter and sees Rhodey hanging from a plane by a long rope, slowly descending towards them. His eyes are wide, reflecting Tony’s fear.

“Hurry! He- he’s dying-”

The relief of their rescue is buried in the very real possibility that Peter won’t make it out off the ground. His struggles for air are getting weaker now, lips tinted blue.

“T’ny.”

“Don’t talk kid,” Tony says. “Save your air.”

Rhodey reaches the ground and unclips his harness from the rope that had carried him there. He starts racing towards them, talking hurriedly over a com.

“Tony.”

One of the kid’s hands finds its way on Tony’s arm, just as it had when the helicopter was moments from hitting the ground. It scratches weakly at the fabric, eyes becoming more frantic.

“You’re going to be okay. Rhodey’s here. He’s going to help-”

“Oh my God!” Rhodey falls to the earth beside them, hands ghosting over Peter. “We need to get him in the sky now.”

Tony can feel his body shutting down. Everything that had happened since the helicopter began to plummet out of the sky comes crashing down around him. There’s a sharp sting of acid in his throat and he feels weak and dizzy.

He can hardly feel the pain anymore.

“I can’t carry him,” Tony says. “My leg. You need to take him. Take him first- come back for me after.”

“And the pilot?”

“Dead.”

Rhodey doesn’t waste any more time. After giving Tony’s shoulder a sharp squeeze, he pulls Peter up into his arms into a bridal carry. The boy, through his coughs, finds it within himself to scream. He jerks against the pain, hands curling into Rhodey’s clothes. Rhodey shifts the kid in his arms and his mouth moves softly in words Tony can’t hear.

As they turn and leave, Peter reaches out towards him, the distance between them growing.

“You’ll be okay,” Tony says to himself, though it’s clear the boy won’t hear. It’s a mantra, a promise.

“You’ll be okay.”

He watches dizzily as Rhodey runs back towards the plane. The world is shifting in a way that he’s not accustomed too. It makes him nauseous and tired and oh god he hopes Peter will be okay.

As his vision fades, he sees Rhodey secure himself back to the rope, holding Peter protectively against his chest. Even from where he sits, far away, he can see the kid’s red blood shining bright against his face.

His kid.

His Peter.

It’s the last thought he has before the world makes one last vicious twist, and he falls back into darkness.

---

He wakes up on the plane.

It’s a strange feeling, being weightless in more ways than one. They must have him hooked to some good drugs because he can barely keep his eyes open and his leg is blissfully unproblematic. From what he can see, he notices Peter laying in a stretcher beside him. The kid’s eyes are open too, but only slightly. He’s covered in bandages and tubes and wires. With numb fingers, Tony reaches out and touches the kid’s arm.

Peter shifts to look at him and smiles when their eyes meet. For the first time in two days, there’s safety in them.

“Hey,” Peter says. His voice is raw.

“Hey yourself,” Tony giggles. God, he feels higher than a kite.

Peter giggles too, his pupils still blown to hell. He shifts ever so slightly in order to lean closer to Tony and whispers as if uttering a secret. “No offence but that- that camping trip really sucked.”

“I agree.”

“I mean. I mean- there weren’t even any marshmallows.”

Tony laughs loudly. He can see Rhodey out of the corner of his eye near the wall, watching them in a weary, bemused expression. His gratitude for his friend is beyond words.

“Don’t worry,” Tony says. “Next time there’ll be, there’ll be-,” but the words die as everything blurs in a soft array of melding colors. He forgets what there’ll be, and when his vision steadies, Peter’s eyes are closed. He looks incredibly young, Tony thinks. Too young.

“No next time,” Tony decides. “No sir.”

He reaches out across his stretcher to Peter’s and grabs the boy’s wrist. The contact calms the last ember of his anxiety, and all the tension seems to drain out of his body.

They’re okay.

They’re going to be okay.

[opalvscent]

– character development.

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full name:  Ophelia Grace Weiss - Hebrew name (used in religious context only): Ayelet Nickname:  Effie Birthdate:  29/09/87 Age:  33, going on 34 Zodiac:  Libra sun, Sagittarius Moon, Virgo Rising  Gender: Ciswoman Pronouns: she/her/hers Romantic orientation: biromantic Sexual orientation:  bisexual Nationality:  British Ethnicity:  Ashkenazi Jewish / Afro-Bahamian Ranking: Angel Affiliation:  Famine

BACKGROUND.

Birthplace:  Amersham, Buckinhamshire, UK Hometown:  Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire, UK Social Class:  Upper Educational achievements:  2:1 Honours degree in Philosophy from University of Edinburgh Father:  Adam Weiss Mother: Sophia Weiss (née Rosenthal) Sibling(s):  None. Pets:  Rosie, a 4 year old husky. (+ too many horses for me to list them here but you all knew that already) Previous relationships:  Spent much of her first year at uni with some kid from Chelsea. Told him she loved him, way too quickly, and he ended up never returning her texts.  Arrests:  None. Did get a parking ticket once. Cried about for a solid hour. Prison time:  None.

OCCUPATION & INCOME.

Current occupation:  Racehorse breeder/trainer Dream occupation: The same, but with significantly less paperwork involved. Less gang involvement would be preferable, too. Past job(s):  None. She’s cut from affluent cloth and has never really had to do any real labour. Spending habits:  Thinks she’s frugal, really isn’t.  In debt?:  On paper, no. 

SKILLS & ABILITIES.

Physical strength:  average  Speed:  average Intelligence:  average  Accuracy: average  Agility:  above average Stamina:  above average Teamwork: As long as she’s not in a position where she has to make decisions on behalf of others, she’s fine. Talents: Horseriding, attention to detail, wallowing in self-pity at inconvenient times.  Shortcomings: Completely spineless, indecisive, see above comment about self-pity.  Languages spoken: English, Hebrew, some French. Drive?:  Has a license, has not used it in a hot minute.  Jump-start a car?:  No. Change a flat tyre?:  Probably, but it would take a little while. Ride a bicycle?:  Yes. Swim?:  Yes. Play an instrument?:  Attended weekly violin lessons as a kid Play chess?:  Badly Braid hair?:  Yes Tie a tie?:  No Pick a lock?:  No Cook?:  Pretty well, but is limited to a couple of staple dishes. 

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTERISTICS.

Faceclaim:  Zoé Kravitz Eye colour:  Dark brown Hair colour:  Black Hair type:  4a/4b, but has been using relaxer since her early teens. Mostly wears her hair in braids. Glasses/contacts?:  Neither. Dominant hand:  Left. Height:  157 cm  Weight:  51 kg Build:  petite Exercise habits:  tries her best to practise yoga every week, but it usually falls through. jogs every morning as an emotional outlet (it’s way more socially acceptable than just full-on screaming at 6am) Skin tone: Type IV Tattoos:   A daisy on the inside of her lower arm, in a tribute to her first childhood horse Piercings:  Two in each lobe, tragus in her left ear Marks/scars:  Freckles. A scar on her right elbow from falling off a fence as a child, two under her right knee from getting thrown off a horse Clothing style:  The type to value function over form. Tends to favour classic silhouettes and colours. In other words, she’s boring. Does like a good printed coat though. Jewellery: a small, gold magen david pendant that was gifted to her by her grandmother. it never comes off. a wristwatch.  Allergies: milk, penicillin Diet:  plant-based, tries to keep kosher

PSYCHOLOGY.

MBTI type:  INFP-T, the mediator. Enneagram type:  Nine - the peacemaker ( subtype 9w1 - the dreamer ) Moral Alignment: Lawful good Temperament: Sanguine/Melancholic Element: Earth Emotional stability:  Maintains composure in public, not quite as good in private. Easily overwhelmed. Prone to overthinking.  Introvert or Extrovert?:  Introvert. If given the option, she’d much rather enjoy her own company. Obsession: Safety, security, stability.  Phobias:  Death, loneliness, the dark.  Drug use:  None. Unless you’re counting hayfever medication, which I don’t think anyone is.  Alcohol use:  Social drinker. Prone to violence?: Nah. Prone to crying?: Yes. Believe in love at first sight?:  Yes.

MANNERISMS.

Accent:  Received pronounciation (voiceclaim). Hobbies:  Horseriding, reading, crocheting, overthinking Habits:  Bites the inside of her cheek Nervous ticks: Fidgets, has a hard time maintaining eyecontact Drives/motivations:  Security, stability and for the needs of those she loves to be met. Subconsciously, she thrives off validation from others. Fears:  Not being able to provide for those she loves. Sense of humour?:  Laughs more than she makes others laugh. Do they curse often?:  Every once in a while, mostly while under distress.

FAVOURITES.

Animal: 🐎 Horses. Who’s surprised? Not me. Beverage:  Alcoholic? Red wine. DRC or other burgundies in particular. Non-alcoholic? Fizzy water. Book:  ‘Emma’ by Jane Austen, ‘What We Talk About When We Talk About Love’ by Raymond Carver Colour:  Yellow Food:  Any type of soup Flower: Daisies, tulips, peace lilies Gem: Amethyst Mode of transportation:  Horseback if the distance allows it, car if not. Scent:  Freshly cut grass, ‘love - don’t be shy’ by killian, rosemary Sport:  ..... do I need to say it? Weather:  Overcast Vacation destination:  Cap d’Ail, France. 

ATTITUDES.

Greatest dream:  financial independence, being able to do what she loves for a living without having to worry about the bottom line. probably wants world peace too. Greatest fear:  failing those she loves Most at ease when:  in the stables or in complete solitude Least as ease when:  in cities or big crowds, doing illegal shit, basically anything she’s done while working for famine. Biggest achievement:  has a silver medal from the 2011 london international horse show Biggest regret: agreeing to her current ... circumstances

[hedonistique]

CHARACTER SHEET.

𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖘  .

full name.   beatrice aila armstrong. nicknames / aliases.   tris,  bea. height.   5′1″. age.   25. zodiac.   sagittarius. spoken languages.   english.  very basic russian sentences.

𝖕𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖘  .

hair colour.   black. eye colour.   dark brown. skin tone.   a pale brown,  freckled along the tops of her cheeks and nose. body type.   slim,  petite. dominant hand.   left. posture.   good due to constant exercising. scars.   track marks on the inside of her arms.   a few scars from ice skating as well as drunken accidents,  but tris got lucky,  so nothing too major or noticeable. tattoos.   she has a few small tattoos along her forarm,  most following the same pattern of an old-school style,  but hesitates from getting anything too large that she has trouble covering with a costume.   as soon as she retires the first thing she’ll do is get a big tattoo though. birthmarks.   n/a. most noticeable features.   defined cheekbones and full lips.

𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖉  .

place of birth.   brownsville,  new york. siblings.  julia armstrong  (deceased). parents.   courtney (deceased) and joseph armstrong.

𝖆𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊  .

occupation.   professional figure skater.   usually working some other gig on the side, like waitressing or bartending or cleaning. current residence(s).   still brownsville.   she’s prob never leaving new york. relationship status.   single. driver’s license.   yes. criminal record.  two DUIs,  one charge of grand theft auto as a minor,  and did a few months of house arrest + community service for drug possession. vices.   alcohol,  heroin,  cocaine.

𝖘𝖊𝖝 & 𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊  .

sexual orientation.   she’s an  i don’t like labels  kind of person,  but if she were to put a label on it,  bisexual. preferred sexual role.   switch.   overall she’s not into super strong sexual power dynamics. libido.   fluctuates between really high and really low. turn-ons.   drugs,  semi-public sex,  people who lie to the cops. turn-offs.   anything over the top makes her feel like she’s in a porno. love language.   acts of service & quality time. relationship tendencies.   tris is extremely non-commital and tends to prefer a friends with benefits thing than getting attached.   she does get crushes,  but withdraws as soon as she feels like it’s getting serious.   she’s a very fun,  very sweet and attentive person to be around,  but expecting a committed relationship from her will only hurt you.

𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘  .  

hobbies to pass time.   hanging out with friends,  partying,  doing drugs,  dancing,  scamming people for money. mental illnesses.   bipolar disorder (undiagnosed in main verse). self-confidence level.  fluctuates wildly.

tagged by:  @sleazygoing​,  technically.   on my other blog.   but i’m stealing this for here too tagging:   this blog encourages theft.

[just-patchy]

Twst MC: Yuuto Maihara

picrew used

ღBasic Informationღ

Name: Yuuto Maihara (舞原悠兎)

Nickname(s)/Alias(es): Yuu, Prefect, Herbivore, Shrimpy

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

D.O.B.: 24th September

Horoscope: Libra

Homeland: Our world

ღNRC Fileღ

Dorm: Ramshackle

School Year: 1st

Class: 1-A

Class No.: 32

Occupation: Student, Prefect/“Beast Tamer”

Club: N/A

Best Subject: History

ღAppearanceღ

Height: 5’0/ 152 cm

Weight: 103 lbs

Hair Colour: Pastel purple

Eye Colour: Dark purple

Jewellery/Others: Flower crowns, scarves, cat ear headphones, freckles, generally customises his uniform with purple and other pastel coloured accessories

ღPersonalityღ

Yuuto is surprisingly easygoing despite that he can be scathing and aggressive at times. He’s extremely clingy and often tired, giving him an excuse to hang off the closest person he can find, or cuddle with Grim. He’s generally friendly but if you’re anything like Octavinelle and have another agenda then he immediately rejects any proposition you bring up. While he’s book-smart, he makes a lot of dumb decisions purely because he can and proceeds to complain about the consequences afterwards.

Unless he explicitly expresses his desire to be left alone, Yuuto absolutely hates being left alone in any way, shape or form, as he immediately associates it with loneliness. He gets cynical at times, though he tries his best to remain neutral or even positive at least. He likes having attention on him but doesn’t quite know what to do with it, and he’s easy to fluster when showered in affection, albeit it’s rare to see him be extremely embarrassed by attention.

Favourite Food: Mochi, rice cakes, basically anything made from glutinous rice or something

Least Favourite Food: Nothing in particular

Dislikes: Crowley

Hobby: Dancing, napping

Talent: Giving good hugs and cuddles

ღAbilityღ

Unique Magic: N/A

ღTriviaღ

-Dominant Hand: Right, but ambidextrous

-CV: ???

-While his eyebags were quite terrible even before twst, they got much worse after he came to twst

-Whenever Leona calls him a herbivore, Yuuto typically responds with “pyon”. He also occasionally ends his sentences or refers to people with “-pyon” (a reference to the kanji for ‘rabbit’ in his name)

-He sometimes makes jokes about how his name suits him quite well