#also no one who knows Sandy in this verse can really fault him for things like forgetting he hasn't gotten together with his boyfriends yet

[tejoxys]

winternights therapy because they do need it lol

ouo I thought you'd pick this one! this was actually the result of a prompt from you; I had put out a vague call for smut prompts, and you asked for "something weird for winternights."

it's barely over a page, so I'm actually just going to put all of it here. context: this was already part of the planned endgame for that longfic I've had since forever; "since the Warren" refers to a ritual everyone conducted in Bunny's realm to [redacted redacted] out of [redacted]. Jack's been a little off since then.

and, more context: some stuff went down a couple scenes ago, after which Sandy kissed the daylights out of Pitch and whammied him with dreamsand. as one does.

-

“I’m not surprised,” Jack said. He smiled, although he kept his eyes lowered. “Ever since the Warren, what you guys were like in there, I’ve kind of been wondering when you were going to make up. I didn’t know for sure if it was gonna involve making out, but, yeah. Not surprised.”

“Jack,” Pitch began.

Jack finally met his eyes. “Hey, don’t sound like that. It’s a good thing. I’m actually really glad you guys are okay again.” He looked away and laughed. “Anyway, you know what Tooth and I got up to in there. And, uh. You and, uh...”

“That was under unusual circumstances,” Pitch spluttered. “On all of our parts!”

“Okay, okay. But you and Sandy, though. This is… Are you back to being a thing? I don’t mind, I just want to figure out, like, how not to intrude, I guess?”

Pitch gaped. “Jack!” he started, again. “No. No, I’m not going to dignify that with a response. But, Jack, in truth, you're the one Sandy wants to see.”

“Me?”

“He found out a little,” Pitch said, feeling a flush rise in his cheekbones, “of what’s happened to you since the Warren. He wants to help. He said you may not want it; said you’ve never let yourself sleep under his influence, not in all the years you’ve known him to be the bringer of dreams. I am sorry, Jack, for failing to keep your confidence. Sandy’s idea of boundaries can be, ah, somewhat alien, and he doesn't always order things chronologically. I was not expecting... any of these offers.”

“Oh,” said Jack, blinking rapidly. "He noticed all that, huh? Well, I... What does he want to do?"

“He would like to sleep here, with us, if you accept. Only sleep. So that he can work with you.”

Jack looked… terrified. Pitch hissed in a breath at the flare of light from Jack’s center, and gripped Jack’s knees to ground him. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to want Sandy in your head, or in our bed."

Jack took a shaky breath. “I think, if you’re there, it’s okay.” He managed to smile again. “Sandy’s right; I have always avoided him like that. I don’t even know why. I should probably find out.”

“Sandy won’t stay if you’re frightened. That’s my territory.”

Jack reached out to trace Pitch’s face with his cold, cold fingers. “Then, if you promise not to leave during my inevitable panic attack, let’s invite him over.”

*

This was how Jack Frost wound up watching a pair of ancient aliens make out.

They had tried to make it all about Jack, at first. He had shut that down. “No, seriously, you guys just do whatever. This is a multi-purpose hangout. Purpose number one: you two, just, kiss where I can see you, this time? If we all end up falling asleep after, Sandy, that’s when you can do your thing.”

Seeing them actually do what he said was… well.

[musecaravan-info]

Arthur Morgan

"You don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you." ~ Arthur Morgan ~

Basic Information

FACE/BODY CLAIM: Roger Clark

AGE: 36

EYES: Blue-Green

HAIR: Sandy Brown

HEIGHT: 6'1

PRIMARY OUTFIT: In his main verse, his clothes are well-mended, but obviously old and worn. Boots, jeans, shirt, jacket, hat, etc. - they all have a weathered look to them. But he still wears them well. ;)

In any modern verse he's a little more polished. It's the same style of clothes, but a lot less wear and tear to them. He prefers button up shirts when needing to look a little nicer, but mostly sticks to solid-colored t-shirts (that maybe cling just a little.)

Personality

Arthur is a hot mess in practically every verse, but it's worst in his main verse. His self-esteem has been chewed up, spit out, and left for dead. He knows he hasn't led the best life, sees himself as ugly and stupid, and will often go out of his way to tell people/remind them of that fact.

Although he tries to be a good person when he can, there are times when he feels like he doesn't have any choice. During those times he tends to be heart-achingly mean almost as a coping mechanism - to remind himself that this is who he 'really is' and to make sure everyone around him knows it, too.

In modern verses, while his self-esteem is still low, he doesn't voice it as often. There are also rarely situations where he feels like he's not allowed to be himself, so that occasional mean streak that crops up in his main verse, doesn't happen as often (if at all) in any modern verses.

Abilities & Weaknesses

Arthur is skilled in more things than he thinks he is, and one of his greatest assets is how quickly he learns new things and how easily he adapts to new situations. He could probably be described as a bit of a 'jack of all trades,' being good at a lot of different things, but excelling at none. He can hunt, fish, ride, shoot, and draw (pictures) - just to name a few things. If asked, he'll deny being good at any of those things... which leads us into his weaknesses.

Arthur is plagued with almost crippling levels of self doubt. He sees himself as lesser than just about everyone (unless he doesn't like them.) It's easy for him to find the good in those he likes/respects, but practically impossible for him to see those same things in himself. And if anyone points it out to him, he'll find excuses that make less of whatever he's done.

In his main verse, I would also consider Arthur's unwavering loyalty to be a fault. His inability to see/respond to the negatives regarding the people he cares about causes a lot of avoidable trouble down the line. And it's also tied to his self-doubt in a way. He basically doesn't see himself as smart enough (or worthy enough) to question the people he views as being 'better' than him.

Romance

Where to start... Arthur sees himself as old and ugly, so he's not going to be the type of person to flirt or proposition someone out of the blue. He doesn't understand how anyone could want him, and isn't interested in being shot down. That said, if he's being flirted with chances are he'll eventually respond (once he decides the other person is serious.) However, for a lot of reasons (especially in his Main verse) Arthur isn't looking beyond the 'here and now.' He expects one-night stands/brief trysts/etc. Part of this is simply the life he leads, but it also has to do with the fact that he can't imagine anyone wanting to spend their whole life with him. Convincing him that someone wants him for 'the long haul' will probably take a lot of dedication and hand-holding.

Where to Find Him

This depends pretty heavily on the verse we're using. In his Main verse it could be just about anywhere. Arthur does a lot of traveling/moving around, so he could be found in a small town or a big city, or even out in the middle of the woods/swamp. There's also the possibility of running into him on a train or a stagecoach, whether he's riding it (or robbing it.)

Right now both of his 'pre-planned' modern verses are private ones. However, if you wanted a modern verse, I'm open to discussing various 'meeting place' ideas depending on the kind of AU you're wanting. Just ask. :)

Verses

Just because a verse isn't listed here doesn't mean I'm not interested in writing it. I adore all kinds of AUs, and welcome the chance to get creative with my muses. If you've seen a verse that another of my muses has, and you'd like to see this muse in something similar, let me know. You can also check out my 'Plot Ideas' tag, too. ^_^

Game Verse (Main):

This verse covers Arthur's time during the game, Red Dead Redemption 2. This tag will be for any RPs that take place during the confines of the canon game. Confession time - I'm just barely into Chapter 5. >.> Some days I get into the game and just go riding for a few hours. Anyway, I have a basic gist of how the 'high honor' game ends, but I’ve been avoiding specific mission spoilers as much as possible so I can experience them first-hand in game. This verse is open to anyone who's interested. Got an RDR2 OC? Or want to put your muse into the RDR universe? Or maybe you want to go the time travel route? That can all happen in this verse. :)

Arthur Lives!AU

Just what it sounds like. There will probably be multiple variations on this verse because I’m not EVER going to kill him. Not permanently, at least. >.>

Ranch!AU

Currently a Private Verse

Modern Day - Arthur Morgan is an ex-con working at a ranch that helps to get former convicts back on their feet. He mostly does mechanical work, but has learned a lot while working there and is capable of lending a hand wherever he’s needed.

Youtube!AU

Currently a Private Verse

Modern Day - Arthur Morgan is an ex-con whose YouTube Cooking videos have inexplicably made him ‘internet famous.’ He deals with the fame in classically awkward Arthur Morgan fashion… by being thoroughly confused about what everyone finds so appealing about him and his quirky charms.

Current/Ongoing Threads

If your thread with Arthur isn't listed here it's probably because it's been long enough since your last reply that I thought you'd dropped it. Message me to let me know you're still interested, and I'll happily add you to the list (with no pressure for a reply.) ♡

Albert:

Happiness is Homemade (Youtube!AU)

Cam:

Out of Aces (Game verse - Chapter 2)

Kelly:

When I Think of Happiness (Ranch!AU)

Stuff That's Good to Know Before Starting a Thread

I play Arthur as 'High Honor.' For those of you unfamiliar with the game, this means he's mostly a good guy who knows he's done wrong and is trying to turn things around... with mixed success. I'm not really interested in playing him with 'Low Honor,' even for an AU.

In regards to canon characters, I'm open to writing with anyone as long as you're open to doing some plotting/talking with me beforehand so we can figure out a good scenario.

As for shipping, I have a pretty open mind. My hardest 'no' is probably Hosea. (Ship what you want. Always. ♥ He's just not my personal cup of tea.) As for Dutch... I have mixed feelings. I think I would be open to something in a Modern verse, possibly? It would depend on the dynamics of their relationship. But Gameverse!Dutch feels far too manipulative and toxic for any kind of healthy relationship to be going on, and that's not something I'm really interested in exploring with Arthur. The man's been through a lot. He deserves better than that. LOL! ^_^; That said - I'd be open to someone helping Arthur get OUT OF a bad relationship with Dutch. So if that interests you, let me know. :)

Links

Please keep in mind, this blog is an ongoing work in progress. Not all of these links may lead somewhere, but they're here because they link to potential tags for this muse.

All Things Arthur

Headcanons

Drabbles

All Threads

Ask Replies

Meme Replies

Aesthetics

Face

Special Links

Original Blog

Arthur's Home (Modern!AU)

Return To Full Muse List

[brooklynislandgirl]

For the headcanon{s}, can you talk about Beth's mental illness? How it does and does not impact her daily life, if things trigger it, how she handled this after losing Riley {in verses that are sans Riley, obviously}, and what some of her experiences have been? I feel like it's something people determinedly overlook about her, and I'd like to know!

This.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious!”

“You keep a civil tongue in that head of yours, boy. I think I know what’s best for your sister.”

“With all due respect, sir... you haven’t known what’s best in-”

Beth is an oyster.

Vague lines and curves that are nothing remarkable perhaps to the point of being unappealing. She can only burrow into the Sand....sandy...Andy. Andy and the Admiral are outside of the room, arguing about the proper course of treatment. She can’t hear every word because she’s underwater and all the sounds are so far away as to be indistinct from the beeping of the monitor that is keeping track of her vital signs. The bandages on her pseudo-pods ~arms, they’re arms, Beth~ are too heavy. They keep her trapped to this bed where she can’t really move and she doesn’t know why. It’s all wriggling around inside of her. A parasite. One she has to wrap in smooth layers of aragonite and conchiolin. Layer after microscopic crystalline layer. Maybe if it’s smooth enough and round enough, maybe if it has enough lustre, then they will set her free. She’s so very tired but she doesn’t have her turtle, and the thin cotton gown isn’t warm enough, worn thin in places. The blankets are too scratchy and the air smells funny, too many chemicals that it’s making her feel nauseous.

But that’s all wrong. Oysters don’t have blankets and they aren’t tied down to beds and they don’t... they don’t...

“Electroshock! How can you? Look at her. She’s just a kid!”

“And your sister nearly killed herself tonight, Andrew. I am done discussing this with you. I’m your father, and a neurosurgeon. If anyone is capable of choosing a treatment plan, it isn’t a teen age boy.”

~*~

Beth was fourteen years old when she was diagnosed however wrongly with Depression mood disorder with features of psychosis, after she smashed her bedroom mirror with her fists, deeply slashing her arms from wrists to elbows. The symptoms leading up to this moment certainly were red-flags for what was wrong with her, all of them classic to the specific diagnosis: the trouble concentrating or making decisions, chronic fatigue, feelings of guilt and worthlessness, insomnia, restlessness, loss of appetite, phantom aches and pains that didn’t seem to go away, persistent sadness and anxiety. It isn’t uncommon for girls and young women diagnosed with Turner Syndrome to also develop depression. And her father felt the matter was cut and dry, despite strenuous objections from her brother.

She spent three miserable weeks in an in-patient psychiatric facility receiving less than pleasant electroconvulsive therapy, psychotherapy and was prescribed citalopram {Celexa}. Which made Beth absolutely nauseous to the point that she had trouble keeping water down, only worsened her sleeping troubles, and made her jittery. As soon as the Admiral shipped out again for a year long deployment aboard the USNS Comfort, Andy took her back to the doctor to get a second opinion.

It was then, at fifteen, that she was re-diagnosed correctly with Rapid Cycling Bi-Polar Disorder. Andy nursed her through the withdrawal of the citalopram and taking over her care regiment seemed to do his sister wonders, as she started to be the sweet and gentle girl he’d always known her to be. He’d sort out her medication by days of the week, would make sure she took the right ones at the right times with her meals, going out of his way to cook things she could stomach, letting her sleep in his bed when she wanted to, and for years after, she seemed to improve. She went months without crippling depression and her manic and hypomanic states were few and far between as well.

Then everything changed.

Beth was accepted into several universities and chose Columbia, knowing that their pre-med program was top-notch and their medical school was even better, and wouldn’t require her to change schools for the duration of her education. Having just turned sixteen in June she was starting a new life perhaps far younger than she ought to have.

There was major upheaval, stress and abject terror at leaving Hawai’i behind, going almost as far away as possible. She was not prepared for the cross-continent move. Neither was she prepared for living on her own. Perhaps she simply expected to live with Andy the whole of her life, or at the very least through her under-grad years. But after the initial first two months that it took to move into their grandparents’ apartment in Brooklyn, and Andy setting up all of her bills, hiring a cook and house keeper, making sure she got settled in as a freshman, he enlisted in the US Air-Force. She saw very little of her brother for the next two years, and the only thing that kept Beth from failing out of school was the idea that she would be sent home to live with the Admiral.

She began to notice that her medication {bupropion aka Wellbutrin} seemed less effective during this time. She was barely getting more than three hours of sleep at night, and maybe half that during day time naps. She experiences bouts of nausea that once again made eating difficult to prioritise, a feature that would last her entire life thus far, with Beth being at least twenty pounds consistently underweight. She also began to experience chronic sore throats, what she describes as her bladder shrinking down to the size of a pea, and worse...tinnitus that became co-morbid with her audio processing disorder. 

The few times during the year that she was able to see Andy, things seemed to get better....until she crashed immediately after he left again.

Beth decided she no longer wanted to take her medication.

~*~

“C’mon Beth, I’m getting married, it’s not like I’m dying!”

“GET OUT! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!” She’s throwing things at him. She’s destroyed seven plates,six coffee mugs and at least one irreplaceable vase. There are so many tears, so much snot, it’s hard to believe his sister is almost eighteen and not eight. But thankfully, she’s still so short she can’t reach the stemware and is forced to come out from behind the island kitchen.

Which means he manages to get his arms around her, a bear hug from behind that locks her stick-figure arms to her chest. She fusses and has a fit, kicking and trying to bite him, but his training in Pararescue has taught him how to hold someone without hurting them.

“I’m not gonna leave you, jelly bean, I promise. And you’ll like Lana. She’s a real nice girl, her family’s from Jersey, and she’ll be moving in with us. You won’t have to-” “LA LA LA! NO CAN HEAR YOU!”

Beth is a hermit crab.

She can just shrink back into her shell and keep everyone out. She can hide down in the bottom of the sea and let the water of her Mother’s arms wash over her and if anything gets close, she’ll pinch them to bits.

But she really isn’t. She isn’t a hermit crab, she’s just a girl and there’s nothing that can keep everything inside of her from dying a slow and painful death. Because now Andy is not only not going to be around, but he’s getting married. To a stranger no less. But like a hermit crab, her house is too small and this woman is never setting foot inside of it. And it’s his stupid fault, because that’s what her brother is...stupid.

Doesn’t he know that no one will love him like she does? That no one depends on and needs him as much? Doesn’t he know they’re supposed to be together, forever and always? Doesn’t he know he’s the only person who truly loves her? The person who said he’d never leave her? Why does he need a wife anyway? She can do everything this Lana person can, and better. If he’d just let her prove it, he’d see!

~*~

But he didn’t. Andy ended up getting married.

Beth dropped out of medical school before completing her residency, but applied her credits to nursing. She was absolutely certain the Admiral was going to have a stroke that she had decided not to become a neurosurgeon like him, or his second choice, a cardiologist. Emergency room nursing suits her needs. She is indoors and on her feet throughout the darkness of the night when home is ever so lonely. It feeds the excessive energy that floods her system and lets her literally crash, semi-conscious during the sometimes three, sometimes four consecutive days she has off.

Life settles into a medication-less routine. Beth finally grows her final inch in height, puts on a few more pounds so she doesn’t seem nearly as cadaverous as she did before. She can blame late occurring puberty for that and for just the most brief moments of time, things seemed to have found their balance. There were no great highs. There were no life-threatening lows. Beth could finally breath.

At least until....the sun burned out and destroyed everything in a single knock on the door.

Perfunctory words that echo in her dreams.

~*~

“Miss Riley, on behalf of the Chief of Staff, United States Air Force, I regret to inform you of the untimely death of your brother, Second Lieutenant Andrew M. Riley-”

Beth Riley...isn’t anything any more.  All of everything that was bright and best within her is now a single leg and some bone fragments in a beautiful koa wood casket. It is a folded flag put into her hands. It’s the reception in the Admiral’s house and an incredibly long line of people talking and talkingandtalkingandtalkingandtalking and saying nothing at all. She can’t breath. She can’t feel. Nothing makes sense and it never will because what do you say when half of you is ripped away and gone forever? What do you do when the world stops turning and the sun has burnt out of the sky?

Beth slips out of the house without being noticed. She manages to get in her brother’s Mustang and heads into the city proper, and ends up at the bar he used to like to frequent when he was on leave. She sits at the bar and orders scotch, 25 year Macallan.

She buys the bottle. She buys the entire bar drink after drink until last call.

She lets someone take her home. Gets into his apartment. Doesn’t really feel his mouth and his hands pawing at her. Doesn’t feel anything really at all until she shoves him away. Things become blurry after that and she only really vaguely remembers calling Jay from a payphone some blocks away.

She can’t find her shoes. But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

Three months later ~one hundred days, to be precise~ Beth quits her job. She turns her utilities off. Throws a few things including her wallet, her passport, and her rosary into a sea bag that she’s had forever. 

Darfur. The Democratic Republic of Congo. Amsterdam. Uruguay. Wherever Médecins Sans Frontières will let her go, to treat people living in the worst conditions. Ironic, isn’t it...that no matter where she goes, Beth always manages to make it back. That all those fears Andy had of her killing herself from neglect or inattention, or even possibly through deliberate action, and she can’t get so much as a life-threatening paper cut? It isn’t fair.

And maybe...maybe it doesn’t matter. There’s a lot of ways you can die in Louisiana.

She hears the coffee in New Orleans is really wonderful.

[catsafarithewriter]

“You’re always blaming me for things that are your fault! Granted this time it was mine, but still!”

A/N: Oh, this one is gonna be fun. You specified separately that you wanted this set in @creatxn and @haruxyoshioka‘s dark!baron verse, which they have both graciously allowed me to play in for this prompt. None of this is canon, naturally.

x

The Cat Kingdom has few perks and, up until the incident, one of the major attractions for Baron Humbert von Gikkingen had been the complete absence of humans.

Things have changed since then. 

He steps back into the Cat Kingdom, swapping the winter of the Human World for the perpetual summer of the Cat Kingdom and, when he sees that something is amiss, there is no doubt in his mind that she is somehow responsible. 

Quite how she could have caused all the regular feline occupants to morph into their larger counterparts - lions and tigers and leopards, oh my - he is not sure, but it seems like the kind of chaos she would wreak. He entertains the notion, briefly, of turning around and leaving the Cat Kingdom to clean up its own messes. But he is curious. 

Also the Human World is full of humans, whereas at least the Cat Kingdom is singular in its people population.

However annoying that lone human may be. 

He weaves his way to the palace, avoiding detection by any of the feral felines roaming the land, and is promptly rewarded for his success by a slight form leaping from a broom closet and attempting to hit him with a mop. 

He sidesteps the shambling attack and watches as Haru Yoshioka, reluctant princess of the Cat Kingdom and part-human, smacks into the floor. 

He steps further back. “What are you doing?” he asks. 

She pulls herself into a clumsy sit and grins up at him, somehow - ridiculously - pleased to see him. He avoids meeting her gaze directly. “You’re you!” 

“So it would seem.” He doesn’t offer her a hand as she scrambles to her feet. Naturally the only one unaffected by this would be the ex-human. He eyes her makeshift weapon. “What are you doing?”

“Defending myself. There are lions out there!”

“And you plan to fend them off with a mop?”

“Would you suggest I take them on bare-handed?” She shakes her head. “Bare-pawed? You know what, don’t answer that.”

He cuts straight to the chase. “What have you done?”

The grin finally slips. A part of himself is relieved. “Why would you assume I did this?” He’s watching her just enough to see her face redden. “You always blame me for things that are your fault! Granted, this time it was mine, but still! Where are you going?”

“To fix this.”

He doesn’t look back, but he can hear her as she hastily reclaims the mop and brushes down her skirts before following him. “Where are you going?” he echoes back. To any other individual, the ice in his voice would be enough for them to rethink joining him. 

“Coming with you. I can help.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Too bad,” she says, and, even without looking, he knows her face has crumpled into a dangerously stubborn expression that he is fast becoming familiar with. “This is my mess, so I’m helping. Anyway, you don’t even know how this happened.”

“I’m sure I’m more than capable of figuring out what you’ve done wrong now.” 

Haru scoffs, although the sound is short, punctuated by the quick steps she is forced to take to keep up with his long strides. “It was an accident-”

“Naturally.”

“I was exploring the palace-”

Hiding from the Cat King, Baron’s mind supplies. 

“-and I stumbled into a room I’ve never seen before.” Her words were breathless. Baron found himself slowing down almost imperceptibly. Not to help her. But he’d never find the answer if she keeled over. “Like a storage room, but for potions and I, uh, I may have dropped one?”

He doesn’t look back, but he hopes she can hear the raised eyebrow in his next words. “You found a room full of magic and decided your best course of action was to meddle with it?”

“Dropped,” she says. “I dropped it.” 

“What potion?”

“I… I don’t know.” Before he can reply, she carries hurriedly on, as if she knows blunt retort on the tip of his tongue. “The bottle smashed, okay? And then there was all this commotion and the next thing I know there’s lions in the palace so, no, I don’t know what the potion was. I was too busy trying not to get eaten. Hey, could you stop for a moment?”

“If you cannot keep up, please, by all means, fall behind.”

A hand tugs at his sleeve and, more from surprise than consideration, he doesn’t throw her off immediately. “Sure,” she says, “but you should know the potion room is that way.”

Baron halts and looks to the sandy stairs descending into darkness. “You went down there?”

“Your point is?”

It is hardly the most inviting of staircases. The light is low and dim, perfect for cats but, even in her changed state, several shades too dark for Haru. Despite everything, he slows as he descends. He can hear the careful step of the princess behind him. 

“What’s all this even built for?” she asks. Her voice is close, close enough that usually he would put distance between them without thinking. 

“Things you don’t want brought into the light,” he answers. He tilts his head back so he can see the shadowed outline of Haru. “Which is why only idiots would consider exploring down here a wise decision.”

“Fine. The King was trying to invite me for dinner, so I was lying low. Happy?”

“Never.”

She scoffs, but there’s humour in the sound. “Liar.”

“My mistake. Wading through the depths of the palace in pursuit of undoing a possible curse is indisputably how I like to spend my time.”

“Well, obviously not now.” Her footsteps quicken, and only then does Baron realise he’d upped the pace. “But you must be happy sometimes, right?” There the offbeat staccato as she takes two steps at a time. “I mean, you got to find something in your life worth living for, right, no matter how bad things get.”

“Like you do?”

He doesn’t mean to say it, and he doesn’t mean for the words to sound so bitter but for whatever reason - blind optimism or basic denial - she barks a laugh. “Exactly-”  

“Even though you’re simply lying to yourself in denying the situation you’re in.”

“It’s not - I’m not in denial.” Her breath is shorter now, words caught between gasps as she drops from one step to the next. “I’m just choosing to focus on the good things.”

“Like what? Your unwanted suitor? Your hollow title? Maybe the life you left behind?”

There’s only a slight intake of breath, maybe nothing. “Like Yuki,” she says. “And Lune. And all the new friends I’ve made and even-” She yelps and goes stumbling then, and Baron whips round to catch her before she falls. 

She tilts her head back to meet his gaze. “And even you, Baron.”

He drops his hold, and she grabs the wall to keep herself upright. “Then you’re a fool,” he says, and he turns back to the stairs.  

“Why do you do that?” she demands. 

“Do what?”

“Shut down anyone who tries to reach out to you.”

He looks to her then. Really looks. Her gaudy gown is dishevelled and creased; the traits of someone wearing expensive clothes out of require rather than choice. Her physical features linger in the limbo between feline and human - almost feline, but not quite, not enough to escape her past. But her eyes… Her eyes are all too human.

He looks away. “There are any number of cats in the castle who would appreciate your efforts more than I,” he says. “Waste your time on them.”

“I have time. Lots of it. I can waste my time on you if I want.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re like me.”

He stops then. Snaps to her like a machine, his form abruptly still. “We are nothing alike,” he hisses. 

“Neither of us really belong here,” she says. “Both of us come from the Human World-”

“How do you know about that?”

“Well, you’re obviously not a full cat. So I asked Lune and he said you’re some sort of living figurine-”

“A Creation,” he amends automatically. 

“Right. A Creation made by humans. Neither of us belong here.”

“And by the logic that I was made by one of your kind, you presume me to belong in your world?”

She stands, unaffected by the curt words. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But I know you don’t belong here.”

Meeting her gaze was a mistake. He turns back to the stairs and continues down. “What makes you so sure?”

“You don’t call this place home.” She’s navigating her feet through the shadows, and she misses the look Baron shoots her. She carries on. “Do you even have a home? You come and you go, but I never actually hear of you going home.” There’s a beat of silence, punctuated only by her reaching the last step and almost tripping as she finds level ground. “Do you have a home?” she asks, and the sympathy is sickening. 

“We’re here.” He stops by a doorway. “A room full of potions, that was your description, correct? Then we’re here.” He enters before waiting for confirmation, already spotting the shattered bottle. It may have contained a spell, once upon a time, but the magic had fast dissolved away like smoke upon its release. He kneels down by the remains.

He can hear Haru lingering by the door. 

“You’re lost too, aren’t you?” she asks softly. “Like me.”

“The magic stored here is experimental magic,” he says. “Unstable. Whatever spell was released, it won’t be permanent. All we need to do is wait out its effects-”

“Fine. Ignore me. But that just tells me I’m right.”

He locates a shard of glass with the label still attached. 

“You always go quiet when I’m correct. It makes you far easier to read than I think you like to admit.”

‘What Once Was’ is barely legible amid the wreckage. It explains the change from housecats to wild, at least. He glances back to Haru. She’s not looking at him, even as she talks. 

What Once Was.

She talks and she talks, and he can’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe the choice of potion wasn’t as random as she had played it up as. 

If only it worked on once-humans. 

[pushspacetocontinue]

Russell Tolbert TV Tropes

Below the read more (because it is a long long list) are a list of TV Tropes (because I love them) that apply to Russell. There is a list for his main verse, Gemsona/SU Verse, his TF2 Verse, and his Superhero verse (the rest haven’t had much of a chance to be used) and I plan to add more of them as I find them, along with the ones for AUs. 

So if you decided to read them, click on and enjoy. Trigger warning for mentions of abusive parents, alcohol addiction and a suicide attempt below.

Normal Verse TV Tropes

Abusive Parents: His Mother, Cassandra. He and his brothers were all victims of her abusive behaviour. While her favourite thing to do was verbally and emotionally hurt then via humiliation, degradation, and manipulation, she wasn’t afraid to get physical with them either. She was also neglectful and dismissive, leaving her oldest sons to look after the others while she did whatever she wanted. Thankfully, his Father, Jean-Luc, is none of these things.

Adorkable: Loyal? Check. Shy? Check. Kind? Check. An absolute nerd when it comes to videogames, space, and drumming? Check. 

Affluent Ascetic: Lives in a modest but nice apartment with basic furniture and a few luxuries despite having the money for more. His reason being is that he’s perfectly happy with what he has already. 

Animal Motifs: Moths and Butterflies. 

Apologises a Lot: Part of him being an Extreme Doormat. 

The Baby of the Bunch: He has seven brothers, and they’re all older. 

Bad Dreams: He has them often, usually after something particularly distressing or painful. 

Befriending the Enemy: Usually his first option. If that doesn’t work and the enemy isn’t backing down, then the switch-blade comes out. 

Beware the Nice Ones: Will not hesitate to jump in and protect someone he cares about, even if it means kicking ass. 

Bookworm: Books and games were his biggest forms of escapism when he was a child. He’s carried his love for both into his adulthood. 

Bungled Suicide: Also combined with Interrupted Suicide. He tried to die but was too drunk to make himself bleed out quickly, which gave Gertrude enough time to find him and call an ambulance to save him.

- This led to a Happily Failed Suicide, where he had managed to start turning his life around since the attempt and making positive changes. He’s not where he wants to be yet, but he’s doing better than he was.

Character Tics: He laughs awkwardly when he’s nervous or embarrassed about something. 

Chronic Hero Syndrome: He admits that he just cannot leave someone in need behind.

Cool Uncle: Viewed as such by his eldest niece, Gracie. 

Combat Pragmatist: He’s not strong, but tries to make up for this by using speed and agility, fighting dirty, and thinking quickly. He’ll go for the eyes, crotch and neck if he has to. 

Cowardly Lion: He’s shy, socially awkward, insecure, and tries to avoid conflict whenever possible, but when it comes to protecting his friends or defending himself, then he’ll jump straight in. 

Disappeared Dad: For most of his childhood and teen years, although not his father’s fault. Thankfully, they’ve since reunited. 

Extreme Doormat: Something that he needs to change.

Friends Are Chosen, Family Aren’t: While reconnecting with his living brothers again, he still chose new people as his family after his mother disowned and vowed to kill him if she saw him again, and cares for him like they’re his siblings too. 

Guilty Pleasure: Nintendo games (particularly Pokemon and Yokai Watch). While his colleagues at the cafe like them too, he still feels a little bit embarrassed about it. 

Hair of Gold, Heart of Gold: A man who tries to be good and decent to those around him. His sandy/straw-coloured locks fit the bill. 

I Am Not my Mother: Partially why he does his best to be the good man that he is; he refuses to continue any pain or suffering his Mother caused him and his brothers, especially now that she’s gone.

The Insomniac: Has trouble falling asleep and then staying asleep if he does. 

Le Parkour: One of his main hobbies and skills, having kept up the practice for years. 

Massive Numbered Siblings: Lived with his seven older brothers and mother in the same house until they started moving out. 

Musician: A drummer for a (mostly) Electro Swing band known as Midnight Swarm. 

Must Have Caffeine: He honestly has no idea what he would do without coffee or other such caffeinated substances. 

Near-Death Experience: Has experienced a few of these in his life time. The most serious left him unconscious in hospital for two days, and needing time to recover after he woke up. 

Never Speak Ill of the Dead: A mild example. When people find out his mother died, he tries to downplay it simply by telling them ‘she wasn’t a good woman’ and leaving it at that.

Platonic Life Partners: With his dear friend, Pari Vass. 

Plays Games at Work: Plays on his 3DS or Switch when it’s slow at the cafe. 

Pungeon Master: He admits that he really likes puns a little bit too much for his good. 

Rage Breaking Point: How his anger presents itself. He holds it back and if it doesn’t get vented out, one more straw will eventually break the metaphorical camel’s back. There are warning signs though, such as increased irritability. He inherited this from his mother. 

Recovered Addict: Used to drink alcohol to excess. He has since stopped and has been clean just over a year and a half.

Right Hand Cat: A non-villainous example in Misty, who he inherited from his previous landlady, Gertrude. 

Secretly Wealthy: Thanks to a very large inheritance he received from his late landlady, Gertrude. He doesn’t like to flaunt it for fear of attracting the wrong kind of attention. That doesn’t stop from making regular anonymous donations to crowdfunding sites, charity organisations and from paying for other people whenever he can. 

Self-Deprecation: Guilty of doing this a lot. 

Sir Swears-a-Lot: Having a bunch of sailor-mouthed older brothers and a foul-mouthed mother has had this effect on him. He swears even in his casual speech, although he does rein it in when around  kids or the elderly. 

Speech Impediment: He has a noticeable stammer. He has got it somewhat under control thanks to spending a lot of time practising his talking, but it still comes out on occasion. 

Stage Names: When he’s drumming for the band, he’s Luna Moth. 

Straight Gay: Is attracted to other men, but has been mistaken for straight or asexual on several occasions. 

Weak but Skilled: Is fast, agile and knows how to move. But he can easily be taken down if he makes one wrong step. 

Unfazed Everyman: Has met multiple supernatural beings, monsters, or otherwise odd people, but has already learnt to accept their presence.

Why did it Have to be Snakes?: He’s absolutely terrified of the ocean. 

TF2 Verse TV Tropes

Breaking the Fourth Wall: Has done this a few times now. It seems to be a Scout thing.

Double Jump: A Scout standard. 

Death is a slap on a Wrist: He respawns when he dies, making any kind of death this. That said, he tries to avoid it whenever possible. 

Eaten Alive: Has been a victim of this twice now. He respawned both times, but he’s been left with a deep aversion to that kind of death. 

Fish out of Temporal Water: A very mild example. He was killed and remained dead and stuck in respawn for two years. When he came out, it felt like no time had passed, leaving him very surprised to see that he really had been gone for an extended period. However, he quickly became used to the idea and accepted it. If anything, he was glad for having more movies, books, and music to catch up on. 

Fragile Speedster: Once again, a Scout standard.

Friendly Enemy: Is this to REDs when off the clock (see Punch-Clock villain below.)   

Never Hurt an Innocent: He won’t attack civilians unless absolutely necessary, and even then, he does his best not to use lethal force.

Nothing Personal: How he views his job. 

Older than they Look: While this happens in his normal verse, it happens a lot more in the TF2 Verse. He’s often mistaken for a newbie, or someone way too young to be fighting.

Only in it for Money: Why he chose to work a job killing people in an endless war in the first place. That, and getting away from his mother.

Punch-Clock Villain: Is this to the REDs. Once battles are done, he treats them like any other person; with decency and respect. 

Railroad Tracks of Doom: How he was killed and spent two years in respawn.

Stereotype Flip: Scouts are often viewed as being loud mouthed, arrogant, and bratty. He is none of those things, not even in battle. This has surprised many a merc. 

Why did it have to be Snakes: Due to a previous medic’s experiments, he has been left terrified of snakes and spiders. He’s also very afraid of being eaten, having been swallowed alive before and finding it less than pleasant.

Super Hero/ Luna Moth Tropes: 

Lunacy: The night sky, particular the moon and the stars, bring out his full abilities. While he can still fight and use his abilities during the day, his performance suffers greatly. 

Mutant: How he feels it’s the best way to describe him, due to his zombie-like traits, he way he makes no noise (no rustling of clothing or a voice), and millions of stars can be seen beyond his pupils. That said, he uses his powers for good. 

Revenant Zombie: He spent a year ‘pupating’ when his mutation occurred. He was considered dead when it happened and even now, he doesn’t need to breath, eat, or sleep. He doesn’t even have a heartbeat or bleed. However, he does feel pain, he can become injured, and become fatigued. He theorises that whatever developed in his corpse happens to possess his memories and has yet to develop any consciousness if it even has one.

Rise From your Grave: The first thing he did after he first revived as the mutant he is now was claw out of the hole he was buried in. 

The Speechless: Due to his inability to make any noise, this also affects his ability to talk. He communicates via sign language, text, typing, and a special device that reads his brain waves in his base.

Star Power: In addition to his enhanced speed, agility, and stamina, the easiest way to describe his powers is ‘summoning pieces of the night sky from within and shaping them into whatever he chooses’. 

The Stoic: Comes across as this due to his emotions being severely numbed since his resurrection into Luna Moth. 

Uncanny Valley: Has invoked in a few people if they hang around him for too long without knowing what he really is. So he tries not to get too close to them.

Gemsona/ SU Verse Tropes: 

Alas, poor Villain: Feels this for Pink Diamond. He wishes she hadn’t been shattered and that things hadn’t gone as far as they had. 

Amazing Technicolour Population: A standard among gems like him. His especially so due to being a Bornite. 

Because You Were Nice to Me: Pretty much the main reason he defected to Rose Quart’s side. After the other gems believing he was flawed and treating him as such, he exchanged Rose Quart’s acceptance for his services. 

Desperately Looking for a Purpose in Life: He was originally dismissed by the Crystal Gems, who told him they would call him if his services were needed by them again. He still feels lost even now, despite trying to fill his life with different drives. 

Dual Tonfas: Has a pair of bladed ones that his Energy Bow (see below) turns into when he ends up in a situation that necessitates close combat. 

Energy Bow: The weapon of choice he summons from his gem, the arrows are made of Hard Light and infinite. However, he needs to take time to concentrate on ‘reloading’. It splits into Dual Tonfas (see above) for close combat situations. 

Inside Job: Before the shattering, some of his jobs were to pretend he was still on the side of Homeworld and give false messages. 

Martial Pacifist: Since the shattering of Pink Diamond, he refuses to raise his weapons unless absolutely necessary. However, despite all the years he’s been dodging combat, he still has some prowess and will fight if he has to. 

Really 700 Years Old: While he vaguely looks like a young human male, he’s just over 6000 years old. And it shows.

Sure, Let’s Go With That: Early humans who happened to meet him often assumed he was a fairy or other magical creature due to magic being widely believed in. He just went along with it. The same thing happened when people assumed he had a strange skin condition, which is now the excuse he often gives. 

Super Speed: Was designed to be fast and agile, so that he could deliver items and messages as fast and efficiently as possible. 

Trade Mark Favourite Food: Even though he doesn’t need to eat, he does enjoy coffee and noodles, although not at the same time. 

Video Game Dashing: Has the ability to ‘dash’ in a burst of speed in the air or on the ground. This ability even works on the surface of water.

Wall Crawl: Has the ability to do this, most likely to get past as many obstacles as possible while on messenger missions. 

We Are as Mayflies: Makes this observation a lot, about how humans and other organic Earth species live such short lives. He finds it endearing that they still make the best of the time they have.

[namjoonchronicles]

distract | nj

▶ summary: There’s only one way to tame a raging fire. Namjoon knows just how to do it, effortlessly and sweetly.

“Because being blamed for something you didn’t do is exhausting! It’s draining, because you don’t know if you should pretend to take the fault so you could make some friends and be a socially-abiding employee when all you want to do is be free!” You let your bag fell flop at the side of the bed on the floor and, lashed out some more.

“...And if you’ve been with me long enough, you should know that I’m not the type to listen to anyone’s shit. It doesn’t matter who they are or what they are, if they’re lying through their claws, I won’t be smiling and telling them all the things they want to hear. And if you know me, you’ll understand that I will not be a tact sugar-coated liar who licks ass for a living.” You paced left and right by the window glass that looks out the balcony.

The curtains are left open and the neighboring buildings were the only thing that can be seen. Namjoon stood, leaning by the door with his arms crossed, observing, analyzing, listening and attempting to execute the best possible reply in this dangerous situation.

One wrong thing he says, will make this all a lot worser than it already is. 

So he chose to be quiet.

“This company is ridiculous. The co workers are oblivious and they’ve made a fool out of me during a department meeting. I didn’t misplace the drugs. I didn’t even touch a cytotoxic carrier. How could they say that I did it?” There’s defeat in your voice and it didn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon. He is after all the one that usually had to perk his ears up when moments like this comes.

Hands over your head, you turned to face Namjoon, with the bed standing between you and him and you exhaled, “I just need your hug.” A weak smile passed your lips, a small shrug on your shoulders and pleas in your eyes was all it takes for Namjoon to lunged over to you, and pulling you into a warm embrace that’s known to heal all the pain you’ve ever felt.

His sturdy chest against your forehead, and you could feel his arm around your shoulder, holding you as close as he could, while he plants a firm kiss on the top of your head. Your hand flew to his upper arm to keep it there, inhaling his heavenly cologne and taking the advantage of being this close to listen to his heartbeat.

When things go awry, Namjoon knows just how to cater to you. Even when at first, he was awkward in giving. He learnt a lot from you. Namjoon bares to you a side the world never knew existed. In exchange, you show him the side you’ve kept to yourself for so long. Together, you completed each other.

But it’s not all joyous ride together, with each other. There are side of Namjoon that you simply couldn’t comprehend— the workaholic side, the humility on things he should boast about, the perfectionist in him that rejects all mediocre and safe options simply because it isn’t risky enough; and there are sides of you that Namjoon find petty and unneeded—like your insecurities, your constant need of validation and turbulent mood swings that sometimes drove him beyond insane.

Namjoon’s intricated way of thinking fits your complicated thoughts in the most outstanding way. You both could talk for hours on the rooftop at midnight. Spilling your most intimate feelings about things going around you, identifying constellations in the night sky, soft murmurs of kind words that strangers will never hear from you; these conversations rarely reside on the surface—knowing Namjoon.

His poetic ways of putting words into a sentence and how they sound like nonsense to shallow minds was a way you two connected. His passive-aggressiveness met your sarcastic remarks, to equate a disastrously perfect couple. Namjoon and you were a imperfectly perfect equation that mathematicians hadn’t figured out yet.

Namjoon puts a distance between you both and you whined at the sudden loss of warmth to which he giggled low in return. With his dimply smile, he slide his hand down your arm and filled the gaps between your fingers with his before guiding you out of the room and into his studio.

The door labelled: Mon Studio, Sound Engineer; on the outside.

He pushed you down to sit in his seat while he stays standing up behind the chair. “What...why?” Your thoughts are scrambled as you watch him dart his hand out from each side of you, clicking on the mouse rapidly as he tries to search for a file you didn’t know off. “Hold on a minute okay, babe.” He trailed his voice as his eyeballs starts to fidget on every corner of the heavily crowded desktop full of track icons.

“Wow your desktop is very organized.” You threw a sarcastic remark and he chuckled short, “...Haven’t got the time to sort them out properly. Been busy at night, you see.” He tutted his tongue, suggestively, before biting his lips. “Oh really...?” That is a judgemental statement disguised in a form of question, from you to him.

He shrugs a bit and the chair rocked as he passed, “Yeah, my wife can’t keep her hands off of me. But can you blame her?” You snapped your head around at him, digging your against your cheek while trying to come up with a good clap back but Namjoon tipped his chin at the screen so that your attentions falls to it instead of him.

“You sir, have a very distracting face.” You heard your own voice in the video he played on his desktop for you to watch. You remembered this video. It was taken in Ilsan, on your first Chuseok together with his family. The camera focuses on him and his deadly fashion style. He had a Ray Ban glass on, with a red beanie.

“Is it me or is this coloring is just off?” You were not well-versed in using video cameras especially the modern ones so you tend to ask Namjoon everything about it since he reads the manuals. Namjoon appeared to be walking towards you and together, you both were figuring out how to use the video cameras. Before it falls to the ground, of course. The camera was still recording although it cuts off for about 0.8 seconds due to the fall. Namjoon is heard to be rather flustered, “It’s just slipped out of my hand...!”

And you calmed him down with an assurance, “Look it’s not the end of the world okay? It’s fine. It’s okay. We can still use our good ol’ phone to film stuff and it will be just as fantastic.” The screen flashes black before turning into a scene at a beach. Namjoon looks younger here. Of course he does, it was taken in 2010, he was 16.

As indicated by the dates below.

The video focuses on him, grainy and low quality but still, Namjoon looked stunning. “I can never get over how beautiful you are.” You commented, sounding like you’re in-trance. Younger Namjoon looks very innocent, and he was just filming his feet walking by the sandy beach, the sound of waves hitting the shore was the only thing you hear.

“This is at the height of the porn watching thing, right?” You shot and Namjoon covered his eyes, smiling shyly. “Can’t you just watch without making anything funny?” He gushes and you took the chance to annoy him some more. “You’re making me a pervert for watching a 16 year old you, are you trying to send me to jail? Jail bait.” You darted. Namjoon shakes his head cutely and grinned at the screen.

“I’m going to take my wife here.” Sixteen year-old Namjoon sounded determined. “I want her to enjoy the sound of the waves and the breeze...” Video-Namjoon added and you snarkly say, “We did more than just enjoy the sound of waves and breeze when we were there, Little Namjoon.”

Namjoon slammed the pause button and you exclaimed, “But why!”

“I’m not going to play this video if you keep being like this, stand up.” He said, biting his smile and you did as he told. He sat on the chair and gathered your waist so you sat on him. “You need to shush and appreciate this video,” Namjoon leaned his chin on your shoulder and you pressed the space bar so that the video resumed.

“That night on the beach was fun.” You added quickly and Namjoon pressed his forehead on your shoulder now, vibrating in place to hide his chuckle. “Can we be PG13 at least for the rest of four minutes, please?” He darted his eyes on your side profile and you glanced at him, “We are Rated R baby, you know that.”

“Okay. Can we pretend that we are PG13?” “For three minutes? Yeah.”

Namjoon’s video showed you sleeping on the bed next to him. Bare shoulders and he plants a kiss on them before sliding out of bed. “PG13 my ass.” You shot and Namjoon pressed his lips together, “Sweetie, look here!”

“No!” “Why not?” “Because I have a zit on my face.”

Then the video switches to all the vacations you both went together on. The part where Namjoon went to Rome. When he broke the pan holder. How he snapped the chair into half. And you’ll be behind the video camera laughing your head off. “All I did is hold them.” He sounded sorry.

“Oh honey, don’t worry about that.” You would say. The screen goes black and to present-Namjoon who is in a black turtleneck with ash grey hair-do, fixing the camera to focus. “Hey baby...” he greeted, exclaiming. “You just left for work after a strenuous midnight workout and I’m making this video to thank you for it.”

You had to clamp your teeth down your lower lips to stop the smile from getting wider than it already is. “So if you remember, you had a pretty bad day yesterday and you took it out on me...” Namjoon pulled down his turtleneck and showed an angry red kiss mark, “But I’m not here to complaint. I’m here to do anything but that. I’m here to say to you that if you ever have a bad moment in life, I’m at your disposal.”

Namjoon inhales deeply, “Everytime you say you had a bad day, which usually began by how badly people treated you; I just want you to know that it doesn’t make you a bad person to feel angry about it. I also want you to know that if it ever come across your head that you’re horrible person; which you aren’t by the way, I want you to rewind to the beginning of this video where you assured me that eventhough I’m clumsy and a hopeless King of Destruction, you always make me feel better about myself.”

You absent-mindedly went, “Aww.”

“When I accidentally break things, I get very upset. Because it makes people think that I’m in capable of taking care of things. I see their faces when they were about to hand me some objects. I understand their fear of me destructing it, but at the end of the day, I’m human and I have feelings.” Namjoon sighed. You took his hand into yours and patted them gently. “You make the darkness less dark, you make the edges less sharp. You make the winter feel warmer, you make my weakness less weak. You make the bottom less deep. You make my crazy feel normal.”

You are the who. Love is the what. And this is the why.

Namjoon’s video ended with you and Namjoon on a hammock together, enjoying the breeze on a tropical country beach with coconut in hand. “Baby, who do you belong to?” Namjoon asked you while the camera showing his face and yours. He was laying his head on your stomach.

“An idiot.” You shot.

Namjoon’s smile is gone in a second before him replying with a wide grin at the camera, showing all his teeth, “But I am your idiot...” shows the wedding ring to the camera, “Foreverrrrrrrrrrrr.”

You were dying of embarrassment, behind him. He vowed to embarrass you and you vowed to annoy him; for the rest of your lives. 

Turning over your shoulder, to face him, you link your forehead to his and smiled, “...Why are you so distracting.” Namjoon inhales and whispered, “...I made the video to keep your mind off of negative things, is it working?”

Yes it is.