#yep. hours spent. /ooc

[dpr-stay]

Whoops | YT22

Yuki Tsunoda x driver!reader

SMAU & written

Warnings: A little bit of smut (more lime iykwim) Still would recommend MDNI

Wc ~ 2.3k

Hey y’all 🤪

Anyways, wrote this last night and spent forever doing the social media part bcs it was fun. Haven’t edited it! Sorry! And it may be a bit ooc (?) but I imagine Yuki as some suave guy behind doors so whoops.

(Also sorry if you’re here for stray kids)

———

Heavy hands lay secure on your hips as you sat perched on his lap. Dark eyes stared into yours, both of them encapsulated in unrestrained lust. Yuki squeezed your hips as he brought you in for another kiss.

If only Franz Tost could see you now, huh. He’d been hesitant about hiring a girl to fill Gasly’s seat after he left because he was worried that her and Yuki wouldn’t get along. Boy was he wrong.

Yuki groaned into your mouth as you lowered yourself down till you were aligned. A quick nudge of your hips caused you both to moan, as the tension from the day released out of the both of you.

It was tough race, you barely making it into the points and Yuki a bit below you. The car was shit, but that was to be expected. You’d both spent countless hours in the sims, trying to somehow uncover a way to make the car work better but it was a lost cause.

After one long day that you’d both spent in the sims, you’d arrived at your hotel rooms that were side-by-side at the same time and the rest was history. You wouldn’t say you used each other, there was definitely some level of emotion involved (if the way you spent more time together than anyone else and the numerous times you’ve contemplated moving in together count) but it was definitely a more effective stress relief than collapsing in the gym.

His hips shifted upwards, causing a tingling sensation to spread through your lower half, a sensation that was increased the longer he continued doing that. You brought your arms around Yukis neck, bringing him in for a kiss as you adjusted your hips to match his speed.

He leaned his head back as he closed his eyes and you smiled, quickly leaning in to begin kissing his neck.

“Honey…” He sighed, as you continued moving your hips, his excitement very obvious even through the jeans he was wearing.

“Feels good right?” You murmured on his neck as you began sucking, trying your very best not to leave a mark. That may have been a lie. A deep mark started to form on his skin and you smiled as he continued sighing his pleasure.

“I may have left a mark.” He groaned, this time in mock annoyance, and a giddy smile overtook your lips this time as he brought his head down to look at you, his own smile making your glow brighter.

“It’s hard to be mad at you.” He whispered against your lips and you responded with a quick kiss on his lips, continuing your eye contact, as you didn’t trust yourself to respond appropriately with words.

He gently bucked his hips in response to your kiss and you gasped as a jolt of pleasure ran up your spine. He smirked against your lips and he leaned forward to grab the back of your thighs.

A loud banging on your door startled you both out of your daze, a yelp leaving your lips as Yuki nearly dropped you. You both, almost comically, turned to face the door as the banging continued and the person behind it started to shout.

“Hello? We’re here to film that room tour?” Shit, you’d totally forgotten about that. The team had organized for a film crew to come over and do a nice tour of the hotel room you were staying in. Wasn’t that tomorrow? You cleared your throat before yelling out.

“Yep just give me a minute! I’m finishing a round of Mario Kart!” You quickly hurried to jump off Yuki and started running around the room, turning on your switch and throwing a controller at Yuki.

“Just go with it!” You pleaded and he nodded, a firm nod with a small smile on his lips. God his lips are gorgeous aren’t they? Fuck, not right now!

You sprinted to the bathroom and tried to smooth your hair to look normal and splashed your face with water, hoping it would cool you down.

You ran back to the main area of the room, threw on your Alpha Tauri shirt and turned around to find Yuki booting up Mario Kart on your room's TV.

You sighed, physically feeling your shoulders and tension deflate, before leaning in for one last kiss.

“You look beautiful.” He said as you pulled away and you slapped his shoulder, duly noting the blanket he had thrown over his lap as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“I’m supposed to be turned off right now, not turned on.” You said bashfully and he grinned before you turned back the door and opened it.

You came face to face with a man holding a camera and a man holding a microphone. Your eyes widened.

“Hi there! Should we get straight to it?” The man holding the mic asked and you nodded before turning to the camera and introducing yourself.

“This is the uhh standard room. I’m pretty sure all staff got it, it’s pretty good.” You said as you opened the door.

Yuki waved at the camera from his spot sitting at the edge of your bed and, to their credit, both the other men tried to look unsurprised.

“We were playing Mario kart together, getting out all the aggression from the track.” You explained, over-gesturing with your hands. They both nodded and ‘ahh-ed’.

“So anyways, here’s the bathroom.” You led them into the bathroom, did a little tour, showing them around the room. You opened a few drawers, forgetting about the one that held Yuki’s toiletries bag and quickly slamming it shut. You met their curious looks with a quick “Can’t reveal my hair-care secrets!” And tried to carry on.

You took them through the small kitchenette, showing them the teabags you brought from home and showing them the high quality green tea bags Yuki bought you as a gift. You asked if they wanted a tea and the cameraman took you up on the offer, so eventually you were brewing four teas, one for every person in your room.

Eventually you all moved to the dining table beside your bed, the cameraman setting up his camera to face your bed with you in front of it before you were asked some relatively normal, non-invasive questions which you really appreciated. Yuki was also asked some questions, mostly about how good he is at Mario kart.

You ended up giving them a small tour of the bed, not much to see there. You took them through your switch, let them play a game on it, before eventually showing them the view from the hotel room, letting them onto the balcony.

As they surveyed the view, Yuki came up behind you, quickly muttering into your ear a complaint that they were taking too long. You rested your head back on his shoulder and murmured that they would be gone soon.

And they were, with a final sweep of the room and a panned shot of you sitting at the table watching Yuki play Mario Kart, they were out, thanking you for the tea and for being such a good host.

The second you had closed and locked the door, Yuki was at your back, missing your neck and grabbing at your waist to lead to your bed. You smiled and let yourself be walked backwards before he turned you around and kissed your lips.

“Been holding back for an hour lovely.” He whispered as he subtly pushed you backwards onto the bed, you landing with an ‘umph’ which he released a giggle at.

“Mhhmm I’m sorry about that.” You responded to his previous statement. “I thought it was another day.”

“It’s ok.” He said as crawled over you, beginning to mouth at your ear. “Just means I get less time to fuck you, yeah?” You groaned in response and he laughed at you.

“If people knew how much of a smooth talker you were…” You trailed off as he continued down from your ear to your neck to your collarbones, leaving small bites as he went.

“Lucky they don’t, means I get to use this.” He said smugly before leaning over to the bedside table and retrieving a condom. You rolled your eyes, a fond smile playing on your lips, as he flashed the condom at you. He reached back to place the condom back on the table and moved back to you.

Wait. Hold on.

Yuki continued to kiss down, leaving small nibbles on your collarbones as your eyes shot open.

Oh fuck.

You released a loud gasp and Yuki pulled back and looked up, worried.

“I’m sorry! Are you ok…?” He trailed off at your flabbergasted expression as you both sat up.

“Yuki.” You began, grabbing his shoulders.

“Did you reach in the drawer to grab that or not?” You asked, drawing him close to you. His face immediately paled as he took in the implications of what you said. He scrambled to move closer to the edge of the mattress, turning to look at the side table.

“I swear I reached in, didn’t I?” He said, turning to you but you could only look on in horror.

“There’s no way right?” He started. “We didn’t just film a room tour with a condom on the side table?”

You groaned, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes as you learnt back into the bed, hoping the mattress would swallow you whole. Yuki let out an incredulous laugh, barely registering the hand you slapped his thigh with.

“What do we do?” You eventually asked, staring at the roof.

“I have no clue.” He said as you rolled to face him. His face softened as he reached out a hand to put on the side of your face.

“We might have to tell people.” You groaned in despair, closing your eyes. The last thing you wanted was for people to think the only female driver was fucking the other drivers. You were only fucking one.

You also didn’t want to have to deal with HR and the complications that would pose, you’d mentioned Franz Tost as a joke but damn. You really don’t want to have to deal with all the questions about your loyalty to the company and if you were just there because of Yuki.

Saying that, you were also reminded that you’d have to face the media and twitter if you confirmed it. Cheers to more speculations as to whether you were the gridwhore or the gridslut. Somehow the same thing with different names.

To be fair, you'd have to face the media anyway in this scenario. You couldn’t just chase them down and ask them to do the story again ‘just because’ and you were certain some eagle-eyed fan would definitely notice the package in the original video anyway. Yuki interrupted your thoughts by speaking.

“You know I’d fistfight someone for you?” You opened your eyes to face his genuine ones, the seriousness of his face causing you to smile.

“I know. I’d do the same for you.” The smile he had in return caused you to grab the hand he was holding your face in and turn your face to kiss it.

“I could call Pierre, he’d probably know what to do.” You immediately scoffed, closing your eyes and laughing into Yuki’s hand as you grasped it.

“I’m serious! He might have some sort of way for it to be passed off as something else!”

“Darling, I’m not sure about that.” You were careful to make your voice not sound condescending.

“You never know!” He said, pulling away (which you did definitely not whine at) and grabbing his phone from the table, quickly dialling Pierre’s number.

You watched as Yuki paced, giving you a thumbs up when the call went through. The loud blasting club music through the phone did clue you in to that though.

“Hi Pierre!” He started and you watched as he moved from foot-to-foot.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He said and then continued. “Sorry to take you away from your party but I have a question.”

A pause.

“Ah ok. If you needed to pass off a condom wrapper as something else, what would you choose?” Yuki said, giving you another thumbs up.

The raucous laughter Pierre released was heard through the phone (he really ought to turn the volume down) and it made you start to giggle, especially as Yuki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course I’m serious!” He said, starting to pace again.

“Why? We accidentally had one out on the side table when a room tour was taking place.” He explained as he finally sat down after you patted the space in front of you on the bed.

“What? Who? You know who!” He said and you tilted your head in confusion. He sighed before muttering into the phone.

“Yes, the person I had a crush on the whole last year. Go away.” You tilted your head back as a wave of elation washed over you, it was always nice to know the people you want, want you too. Even if you’d been dating, it’s still nice to know.

Pierre’s reaction to this could also be heard through the phone, a loud “WHAT?” that had Yuki sighing before hanging up. He took a second before looking at you.

“Useless.” He simply said and it was enough to send you into a minutes long laughing fit. He giggled along with you, though he admittedly found it a lot less funny.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” You asked and he nodded.

“Seems like we just have to let things run their course.” You nodded in agreement, already having mentally prepared yourself.

“However…” You looked up at the tone of his voice.

“We could… Y’know… use the condom?” He said and you started to giggle again before nodding.

“Seems the only acceptable course.” You replied and he smiled before climbing back onto the bed.

—-

Yippee, does this mean I can make a masterlist?

[ofmagiick]

I'm the president of the Lily fan club. Your graphics are stunning and so is your formatting. Your portrayal is exactly how Merrin is portrayed in canon. I see your Merrin and I go, "That's canon Merrin." I also adore how you write Merrin ic, and you are so fun to talk to ooc. Cal anc Merrin have amazing chemistry and it's so entertaining to see how it unfolds. Ik I have said this already but I'm so grateful to have written Cal with you. I'm planning to be here for the long run and look forward to continuing writing with you ♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ this is gonna be short and sweet bc i have a migraine brewing and need to catch some sleep but i have been BLESSED to meet you, and i adore how you write cal. i read it, and im like "yep that is the ginger i have spent hours cooing over and dropping off cliffs. its so wild respawn stole yukis character like that" ilu, and thank you for giving me an excuse to write merrin. i cant write in a vacuum (well, i can, but thats no fun) and im glad youre so patient with me even though i take so long to respond some times

[infinitethree]

OOC::

I have two whole playlists to share, hopefully the first of many!

That doesn't sound like a lot, but. Trust me. It is.

That's because the smaller one is 94 songs, and I had to compile them one by one. My own version is from music I have on my computer.

The second is just under 200, and was cut down from the original count of 470. Some songs didn't make the cut for reasons like "not enough of a match to be worth the effort" or "not in English" or even "without the context it's SUPER sus".

All the playlists will get linked in the details doc, which also contains links to all the other fun extras like my Sanctuary builds, appearances, jewelry docs, etc.

The smaller one needs its own post for what will be pretty obvious reasons. This one will be about Innit.

Innit has quite a few artists who compose a significant portion of its playlist, though none stand out as 'the Innit artist'. Some of the others have one or two that are reaaaally prominent.

There's an emphasis on hopelessness, anger, imprisonment, and a splash of mania. Even during the events of Blood & Gold, Innit was still trapped in a pretty significant way. That period of time was much, MUCH shorter than the amount of time it has spent fully caged, ignored, and erased.

Thus, a lot of very angry/revenge/hate-type songs. A few were written with a romantic bent, But We're Ignoring That.

The songs that most strongly vibe as Innit to me are: Inmate 8576- Adam Jensen dark hour- DEMONDICE Going Under- Evanescence SCAPEGOAT- GHOST Choke- IDKHOW (I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME) Bad Apple- JubyPhonic (cover) Fire to the Fuse- Jackson Wang (for League of Legends) Snake- Miyavi & PVRIS (for League of Legends/Arcane) Cerebral Rendezvous- Trickle (cover) Six Feet Under- Vane

It was REALLY hard to narrow it down, my first pass had 25-30 songs.

If I could think better, I'd explain each one but. Uh. I'm pretty sure they're mostly self-explanatory?? Imprisonment/trapped, revenge, bitterness. Thems the big Innit emotions, yep yep.

[etaliia]

um hey so! bury your gays and unhappy gays are bad tropes!! and shouldn’t be used!! especially in pride month!!

[staboteur]

I used this template by Orion.

For @solemn-vow ;0

Please don’t reblog it, it’s not my best work nor did I grab a link for every image so I can’t exactly credit all the amazing photographers that took the pictures I used here.

Edit: also fun fact those bottom images are actual images of Marseille, France and Salzburg, Austria (at least... if Google Images is to be trusted)

[sxlver-sweet]

Hi! Can I request fem!s/o having a sleepover with Senju. Thank you!

— STAY THE NIGHT <3

|| m.lists || taglist form ||

ROSTER . . . senju kawaragi

SYNOPSIS . . . sleepover shenanigans, starring senju :)

CONTAINS . . . honestly, just fluff

NOTE . . . i hope that i did this correctly! i’m still trying to get a grasp on senju’s character, so i apologize if any of this is ooc. it probably will be, just a heads up. heavily unedited!!

ADDRESSED TO . . . @kuroiza @florssils @dazaisusedbandages @sanelly

you spending the night at senju’s residence was more than likely an impromptu decision. you’d spent the last five hours being lugged from store to store, bundled into dressing rooms with outfits that senju had selected for you, and weighed down with an ungodly amount of shopping bags while the crinkled tissue paper tickled at your bare arms. it’s safe to say that by the end of the excursion, you were exhausted, your feet were aching, and the fabric of your blouse was clinging to your sweat-slicked skin.

the plan was for you two to deliver the purchases to senju’s house, and then she would deliver you safely to your house. but, once you flopped onto her bed with a weary sigh, you both knew that you weren’t in any shape to endure the trek all the way back to your house. her mattress was just so plush and pliant, molding invitingly to accommodate the shape of your body. yep, it’s final: you’d rather die than venture back out into the chilly night air.

“don’t be ridiculous,” senju dismissed with a breezy wave of her hand. “you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, and i’m sure that takeomi has a spare toothbrush or two around here somewhere. i’ll go check. if you want to shower, you can use my shampoo and stuff. i really don’t mind.” with that, she scampered out of the room, voice already bouncing down the hall as she called out to her elder brother.

“don’t be ridiculous,” senju dismissed with a breezy wave of her hand. “you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, and i’m sure that takeomi has a spare toothbrush or two around here somewhere. i’ll go check. if you want to shower, you can use my shampoo and stuff. i really don’t mind.” with that, she scampered out of the room, voice already bouncing down the hall as she called out to her elder brother.

“don’t be ridiculous,” senju dismissed with a breezy wave of her hand. “you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, and i’m sure that takeomi has a spare toothbrush or two around here somewhere. i’ll go check. if you want to shower, you can use my shampoo and stuff. i really don’t mind.” with that, she scampered out of the room, voice already bouncing down the hall as she called out to her elder brother.

i feel like senju values conditioner more than shampoo. she’ll snatch any shampoo off the shelf but spend fifteen minutes comparing the labels on conditioners to decide on the one that best suits her. i mean, have you seen her hair? it looks softer than a mf.

she enjoys sharing her possessions with you, such as soap or chapstick or even perfume, because then, if you use them, you’ll smell just like her. so, when you step out of the bathroom bearing her signature fragrance and with her clothes draped over your body, her heart flutters. she won’t say much or go out of her way to shower you with compliments, but she will take a moment to analyze and etch your appearance into her memory for future daydream material. like wow, you’re really her gf. she's pretty lucky, huh?😌

senju strikes me as someone who enjoys playing with her significant other’s hair and twisting any available tresses into a variety of different styles. her attention span is on the shorter side, so you’ll frequently hear her hum an “ooh, let’s try this” before her fingers slither through your hair to separate it into a different part. but, at the same time, she finds a specific, oddly domestic charm in kneeling behind you while you sit on her mattress with an array of hair products strewn around you, both of you chattering away about trivial topics with you intermittently feeding her spoonfuls of mint ice cream and her guiding fingers slick with a sweet-scented oil through the ends of your hair.

i don’t see senju bothering with nail polish, but if you have your own nails painted, she may scour her room for the single bottle of nude polish that takeomi forced her to purchase for the sake of “retaining at least one aspect of her femininity” and ask you to paint hers so that you two can “match.” the polish will undoubtedly smudge, though. she’ll either get too impatient and distracted to allow it to dry properly, or she’ll ruin it purposefully and feign disappointment just so that you’ll indirectly hold her hand again.

similarly with painting her nails, i don’t see her spending a lot of effort on skincare, either, so if you want to do face masks, you’ll have to plan ahead and bring your own. she’ll be inquisitive yet attentive when you slather the clay onto her forehead or smooth a sopping-wet sheet mask over her skin, complimenting the slight fragrance with sparkling eyes and examining her ridiculous appearance in the bathroom mirror. considering how she's constantly surrounded by male gang members and likely doesn't have a lot of girl friends, she’s likely unversed in such “traditional female practices” and will rely on you to fill in the blanks. however, after experiencing the unique cooling or pulsing sensations that the clay masks provide and marveling at the dewy sheen that remains after she peels off a sheet mask, she’ll most likely develop more of an interest in it. the next thing you know, she’ll be calling you a few days later to request that you accompany her to select more skincare products.

you and senju will probably watch cheesy romance movies, but only the terrible ones so that you two can poke fun at the poor acting and overused one-liners. senju’s definitely chucked popcorn at the screen more than once. if you two decide to watch an action movie, when senju isn’t cuddled into your side, she’ll either be boasting about how she can execute better kicks, or she'll be complaining about how fake their moves are while you're in the background like "you tell 'em, babe."

under normal circumstances, senju is an absolute menace in the kitchen, either already preoccupied with taking a nap or far too lackadaisical to participate in the meticulous measuring of ingredients. if your talents lie in culinary arts or you have a recipe you want to share with her, she’ll be more than happy to sit with you in the kitchen and watch you work. you’ll often notice her eyes trailing after you as you flit from one task to the next, but it’s just because she likes to see you in your element. she’ll occasionally ask you questions about the methods or ingredients you use, and if you ask her to help you wash or prepare vegetables, she’ll grin and hop from her spot perched on the counter to comply to the best of her abilities. her work won’t be neat, but she tried.

ceo of swiping chocolate chips, diced fruit, sugar cubes, and mixing spoons slathered with cookie dough when you aren’t paying attention

when you two turn in for the night, it probably won’t be planned. you’ll be sprawled out on senju’s bed, bodies tethered only by your fingers that glide through senju’s cloud-soft locks and her arm that's limply tossed over your waist. she doesn’t strike me as someone who’s super into cuddling, but rather as someone who welcomes affection in moderation and values her space. the air between you will be laced with hushed murmurs and old stories fractured by the drifting of your minds as fatigue tugs gently on your eyelids. senju will likely knock out before you do, and you’ll be able to tell when her sparse whispers are reduced to silence and the ticklish fingertips that had been ghosting over the small of your back fall motionless.

overall a 10/10 experience

[angelicspaceprince]

Alive

Author:  Ama

Title: Alive

Pairing: Beelzebub/Reader, Friendship!Aziraphale/Reader/Crowley mentioned, squint and you’ll miss it Friendship!Aziraphale/Beelzebub/Crowley I guess?

Character/s: Beelzebub, Aziraphale, Crowley, mentions of God.

Word Count: 3, 459 words

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, cancer treatment, a bit about what happens to your body when we die, nightmares, mentions of death. I think that’s it.

Tags:  @elyshakate,  @trelaney,  @corvids-of-the-skeleton-tree  

Summary: Beelzebub doesn’t get it. Cancer is not a cold, it’s not temporary, this thing will kill you. But they don’t seem to care and even when you fight to stay alive, it’s not until a certain angel intervenes that they realise what they’ve already lost.

Notes: So, y’all can blame trelaney for this one and me listening to Alive by Sia on repeat for the past hour. We have been talking about Good Omens hcs for a while now and she brought this one up and its been eating at me ever since/I pretty much said yep I’m gonna write a fic about this so everyone can cry. So if y’all are upset with the concept, I’m not to blame. Plot bunnies were provided, I just ran with them.

First time writing Beelzebub, it’s probs OOC, I do not give a shit but don’t come running to me crying ‘this isn’t Beelzebub’, suck it it is now. Beelzebub also uses them/they pronouns. It might not be canon, but it is here.

Buy Me a Coffee

Alive

You were alone when you got told that you needed to go in for further testing, alone when you went for the scans, alone when you got the results. You kept everything hush hush, not wanting any drama or to raise concern when it could be a false positive.

But it wasn’t.

Cancer. Brain cancer. Glioblastoma multiforme to be exact. Pretty advance, the doctors gave you a realistic prognosis of six months, and a hopeful prognosis of twelve months at most. You didn’t cry when you got the news, didn’t cry on the way home, didn’t cry as you cooked and ate dinner alone. You held it in, waiting until the quiet of the night took over and you knew you were truly alone and that’s when the sobs became to rack your body.

You were too young! How could you be given a prognosis of twelve months, at best, at your age? You knew you were going to die one day, but you expected quite a few more decades before it happened.

You didn’t sleep that night, spent most of your time crying and trying to figure out what was going to happen next. You had to tell people, had to plan what was going to happen when eventually treatment stopped working, what you wanted once you died.

You have to tell B.

Being in a relationship with Beelzebub has been hard, but worth it. Some emotions were clear on their face, anger, annoyance, frustration, but others were not, such as love. You knew B loved you, they wouldn’t have spent time with you if they didn’t like you or put up with your human tendencies if they thought you to be beneath them, but sometimes it was hard to gauge if they truly loved you. It was always hard to bring news to them because their emotional reaction would always be a little….off. This was something that you weren’t looking forward to telling your partner.

You told your partner about the doctor’s visit the next morning. Beelzebub always made sure that they had the mornings with you seeing that their nights were rarely free. For the first time ever, you really had hoped that some unexpected hellish business had kept B away from you that morning, you still hadn’t processed the news. Still hadn’t accepted your fate. And even though it was hard, you managed to get the words out.

No reaction.

That’s what hurt you most of all, you think. Beelzebub didn’t even seem to care. Out of all the emotions you could read on Beelzebub’s face, none seem to pass them. You got the tests alone, the results alone, the prognosis alone. But telling B and explaining what the doctors had said? Made you feel the most alone you felt during the entire process.

You started on chemo and radiation, wanting to prolong your life as long as possible. You spoke to Aziraphale about life after death for humans and his answers, although philosophical, did nothing to ease your mind into thinking there was an afterlife for humans where you could continue to be with Beelzebub, if that is what they wanted. B was there every morning to help you with your medication and the subsequent nausea and vomiting that followed. They once asked why you were doing this and appeared confused when you told them it was to length your life. Surely you didn’t want to go through all this torture just for a few more measly months? But still, they continued to help where they could. You asked for them to take time away from hell to be with you, but they refused. You would still be there in the morning, why disrupt business as usual?

You continued to waste away. You become frail and unable to move without assistance. Aziraphale and Crowley are literal God sends during this time. Crowley would always hiss and say he’d talk to the love of your life, but you always asked him not to. It’ll be fine. Beelzebub knows that you’re sick and, they’re right. Why disrupt business as usual for one, insignificant human? Eventually, however, even Beelzebub could see how ill you had become, nothing but skin and bone, being wasted away from the sickness.

Then the seizures started.

The first one was a shock. You were so angry at Beelzebub not being able to understand that you wouldn’t just bounce back from this. No matter how many times you tried to explain it, they just didn’t seem to get it. Suddenly, all the anger of being sick and dying way before your prime and before you could enjoy a long like with the Prince of Hell just exploded from you. You screamed and raved about how this wasn’t a cold or the flu, this was serious. You asked them if they even loved you because it feels like they don’t, you need them right now and they are not there for you. When Beelzebub asked why you were so upset about this when you would just wake up in the morning, healthy as ever, you wanted to scream. Instead, you fried.

You collapsed on the floor as your brain began to overheat, body jerking uncontrollably. For the first time ever, Beelzebub felt out of control. No demonic miracle they tried got you to stop so they decided that, for once, they’d ask for a human’s help. They got you to A&E where you were instantly admitted into the hospital before into a room once they got the seizure under control. Quickly, it was decided that you needed to stay at the hospital and you weren’t going to be able to leave. Beelzebub didn’t leave your side once you were admitted, only once to go back to your place and get some things to make the barren walls seem more like home.

You barely made it to the five-month mark. Towards the end, there was nothing of you left. Seizures continued. They were quick to strike and intermittent. Some lasted for a few moments, most lasted for at least 10 minutes, and some very rare ones lasted for over an hour. They were horrid, your brain felt like it was being fried every single time as B just sat with you. But, as time went on, they became more regular and prolonged. You struggled to maintain your breathing after four days in hospital. It was decided that your airway would remain unassisted. The rattle of your throat unnerved Beelzebub, but they stayed regardless, their hand never leaving yours. They stayed in the room, even when you were being washed but did not assist. The nurses looked unnerved enough at the Prince of Hell’s attire and lack of desire to leave your room or even eat. They played your favourite music and read to you, spoke about things down in hell that was being managed for them. It was as if it was a rare night where Beelzebub could actually take the time to spend with you and you alone. Aziraphale and Crowley visited often, spoke to you as you continued to apparently dream and made sure Beelzebub was ok and asked if they needed a break. They always said no. They’d rather watch you sleep. You looked peaceful when you were like this and Beelzebub could almost convince themselves that you were snoring whenever the rattle could be heard.

It was a rainy Sunday morning when you died. Beelzebub was holding your hand and reading to you a book you never got to finish. When B got to the end of the last page, they could almost hear you sigh as you breathed in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out.

Nothing.

With a smile, Beelzebub closed the book and put it to the side and waited, hand on yours as it had been the entire time. Seconds pass and concern started to bubble under Beelzebub’s skin. Usually with discorporation, it was instant. You’d be here with a new body and ready to live a new life. Seconds turned to minutes as your body started to cool and Beelzebub’s concern grows to anxiety as they move up towards your body. You should be back by now. The rattling that was once concerning would have been a relief to hear right now. They call your name, beg you to wake up because this isn’t funny anymore as they climb onto the bed, careful of all the wires and tubes so they can try to convince you to just wake up. Even if it was just to scream at you some more, they didn’t mind, they just wanted you to stop pretending and to get out of bed.

That’s how Aziraphale and Crowley found the Prince of Hell. Sitting over your rapidly hardening body as rigor mortis kicked in, confused as to why your eyes were open, yet glassy. They were still begging you to wake up, this isn’t funny anymore, I know you’re mad at me but please just wake up. Neither had heard Beelzebub sound so desperate and confused before, and it had been clear that they had been doing this for hours. Aziraphale is the one who puts two and two together and walks up to the demon.

Crowley goes to get the nurse. You wouldn’t want to be lying there in your own filth, you deserved a more dignified death than that as Aziraphale quickly but quietly got Beelzebub off of your body and off the bed so the nurse could do their jobs in peace. B still looked at your corpse confused, now pale as the blood settles on the lower half of your body. You’d never looked so sick in your life, but this isn’t right. You should be awake by now.

That’s when Aziraphale breaks it to him. Humans, when they die, they aren’t like demons or angels. When they die, they are gone for good. Its like a sleep, apparently, that lasts forever unless you were in good favour with God. And being with a demon most definitely removed your changes of that.

The news takes a second to sink into Beelzebub’s brain before everything starts making sense. Why you wanted them to spend more time with you, the frustration of when they refused to break their schedule for you, and when they just didn’t seem to understand that this was serious and terrifying for you. Discorporation is scary for anyone who hadn’t experienced it. But you’d be back. Surely.

It’s not until the nurses arrive to clean your body that Beelzebub moves. The nurse goes to start with your face and the Prince of Hell just screams as emotions they didn’t even know they had crashed over them. They screamed at them to not touch you, that you weren’t dead and you’ll be ok, just wake up, please wake up. They are sorry, just please, for the love of all things unholy, open your fucking eyes. Nurses, doctors and security had to rush in to pull the Prince from your body as the nurses fought back to make sure you weren’t injured in the fight. Beelzebub claws at everyone who touches them, almost attempting to swim past everyone to get to you as they are thrown out and into the family room with a nurse to try and console them. You’re in a better place now, God will take care of you, you are at peace. Beelzebub just rocks and cries because of all the things they will miss that they didn’t even realise that they would miss. Seeing you wake up and being groggy before lighting up when you see them, holding your hand, kissing you, making a plate for them even though you both know full well that you’ll end up snatching most of it from their plate. Never have you listen to them rant and offer advice that only a human could provide or listen to you rant after a particularly hard day. Never see your face whenever you see something that excites you, never hear your laugh, never be held in your arms or hold you in theirs ever again? Never be able to tell you that they love you.

It felt like all the oxygen had left Beelzebub’s body and no matter what they did, they couldn’t get enough in their lungs. They never told you that they loved you, they always assumed they had time for that. Now they’d never get that chance again. Darkness seems to crowd in from the corner of their eyes as a truly desperate and primal wail finally makes its way out of B’s mouth and fills the halls of the ward before they promptly pass out.

~~~~~

Beelzebub wakes up with a gasp. Not in the hospital, the chemical smell no longer burning their nose. They are back home, in your bed. The demon rubs their face with a relieved smile before they turn to make sure you were alright.

No.

You’re not there.

The sheets are cool and there is no evidence of you sleeping there. Beelzebub can feel the oxygen slowly being sucked out of their body again when the panic sets in again. Are you dead? What’s happened?

A flush followed by three loud crashes and a string of swears in the dark lets them know what’s going on and they rush from the bed straight into the kitchen to see you, still pale and looking permanently tired, but alive standing in front of them, checking over your foot. B can’t help it. They crash right into your arms and hold you as close as physically possible, breathing in your scent deeply to centre themselves. It’s ok. You’re alive.

“Whoa, hey there.” B could hear the smile in your voice. “You ok?” Beelzebub doesn’t trust their voice, so they just nod. “B? Are you crying?” The smile turns to concern as the Prince pulls you in closer. You start to rub their back as you sway in the kitchen. “The dream again?”

“Yes.” Their voice croaks, they sound broken. Exhausted. You sigh as you pull back and make sure that you can make eye contact with your partner. The unshed tears that they are clearly fighting back break your heart as you swipe your thumb underneath their eyes as you cup their face in a silent attempt to calm them.

“It’s ok dearest. I’m ok. You’re ok. Do you remember what happened?” It takes a second for Beelzebub to nod as the memories come flooding back.

You did have an argument and you did have a seizure before it concluded. Beelzebub did think that you would just return in a new body ready to go. But Beelzebub got you to the hospital quicker. You came out of the seizure quicker. You ended up in a coma and in the hospital for a week. B didn’t leave the hospital for that entire time and they did read to you and play music and talk. That’s when Aziraphale told Beelzebub what happens to humans after death. That’s when the penny dropped and, for the first time in a week, Beelzebub stepped outside.

Beelzebub got on their knees and begged for God to spare you, just for a while longer. A miraculous healing, that’s all you needed. No matter how much Beelzebub tried, no miracle of theirs could save you and God did not help in anyway. When Beelzebub came back, a day later, your prognosis did not look good. They took you off air support. They suspected you had 48 hours at most. That dreaded rattle could be heard before B could even walk in the room.

Aziraphale suggested that, perhaps, between the three of them they could save you. Somehow, it worked. The cancer was gone, and you woke up to a crying and relieved Beelzebub six hours later, to the amazement to all the staff involved. B just climbed onto the bed and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you, apologising between each kiss and saying that they loved you, so, so much whenever you both pulled away for long enough for them to get the words out. You were still incredibly sick, even a year on there have been complications. It took a while for you to be able to walk without assistance, for your weight to return and for you to be able to concentrate for a full hour – or even just be conscious for three hours – and not need a nap. You came home six months after you first were admitted into the hospital. Beelzebub made a point, from then on, to be home as often as possible. Hellish business could be conducted anywhere, so B worked from home in the same office you now do. Beelzebub, although still not in tune with their emotions, had become more affectionate and initiated the affection more often than before. The Prince even began to learn the value of sleep and loved to spend the night with you holding each other.

The nightmares came about a month after you came home. You needed to spend the night at the hospital after you found out you needed some exploratory surgery done. Beelzebub woke up with a fright, convinced you were dead until they went to go pick you up the next morning. If you disappeared from the bed for too long, the nightmares would start up again. A side effect of the cancer has left you forgetful, and some nights when you wake up and just need to pee or eat or drink something, you forget that being away caused Beelzebub distress like this. But you work on it.

Another side effect, as you both found out one day that Beelzebub is sure nearly brought them to discorporate, is that you can’t die. Turns out, the angel and the demons did their job a little too well. Although you have gotten better and parts of you have changed, you haven’t aged a day. When you didn’t see where you were walking and got hit by a car, Beelzebub felt their world end again for a brief second before you stood up, amazingly unharmed, and began to apologise to the driver for not watching where you were going. The relief hit Beelzebub hard, before realising that you were going to be with them forever. The joy that wracked their system is something that Beelzebub has not felt since but enjoyed every moment of it.

Right now, however, Beelzebub did not feel joy. Some relief, yes, but mostly residue panic from the constant nightmare that they had been having. Somehow, you managed to coax them onto the bed and pulled them in tight against you so they could have some comfort.

“Feel better?” B makes an uncommitted noise that you take to mean as ‘yes’. “Good. I’m sorry I forgot again. I’ll try to remember to read the sticky notes next time.” You can feel their scoff against your chest as you roll your eyes. “I love you though. I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Please don’t.” Their voice still sounds broken but comforted in the knowledge that you were okay.

“I won’t, precious.” You smile as they make eye contact with you and a rare smile graces their face.

“I’m sorry I was a bad partner.” You roll your eyes.

“B, you weren’t a bad partner, you just didn’t understand, and I didn’t think to explain it at the time. It’s okay. We’ve worked past it.” The noise B makes this time makes you think they don’t believe you, so you jostle them slightly so you can both lay down together, you stroking their back as they make small buzzing noises of content, both of you slowly beginning to drift away.

“Love you.” You smile as B’s quiet voice fills your ears right before they fall asleep.

“Love you too.” B’s hum lets you know they heard it just as you close your eyes and let your sleep take you away.

You were alone when you had the tests, got the results, and the prognosis. You felt alone as you battled for a few months more to live with your love. You drifted alone in a dream state for a week before two demons and an angel brought you back, better than before. After a journey of feeling so alone, it was moments like these that made you feel so loved because you knew Beelzebub loved you, loves you and will forever love you, as you will forever love them. Even as you drift in your sea of unconsciousness, there is one thing that you feel now that you hadn’t felt for a long time after your diagnosis.

Alive.

[mel-is-a-melon]

Until Death Do Us Part

Warnings: Death

Pairing(s): Logicality

Tagged: @freepaperie081, @wilford-woofstache

Summary: Patton is in the hospital due to heart complications, and Logan is refusing to leave his side until he can come home.

Apologies for any medical inaccuracies or OOC writing. Anything incorrect was probably made the way it was for drama or something I just missed.

“Any improvements?”

The nurse looks up from where she was changing the young man’s IV tube to see his boyfriend staring at her with pleading eyes. She sighed mentally.

The man in the hospital bed (Patton, she believed his name was, and a quick glance at his chart confirmed it) had been admitted with severe arrhythmia. Apparently, he’d had a mild case of it for most of his life, but he’d gotten dizzy a few nights ago and collapsed, leading to his current hospitalization.

Though it seemed like a routine case that should be brought back to normal within another day of medications, Patton’s boyfriend had been frantic the entire time. He fired off questions at every person who came through the door and insisted on double checking everything for himself (she loathed to scream at him that while he might had a doctorate in astronomy, as he had mentioned numerous times, he was not a medical doctor and so should leave this to professionals).

The only times he could be shut up was when Patton was awake. He would softly chuckle and tell his partner to “leave them be, Logan, honey, they know what they’re doing”. But at the moment, he was getting some much needed rest, and she was left with Logan looking at her like she held the answers to all the universe’s questions. If she did, she would have told him long ago just to wash her hands of his endless line of questioning.

“As I told you an hour ago, he is slowly improving with the help of the treatments we set up for him. Should he continue to improve, he will be permitted to leave tomorrow and warned to avoid strenuous activity for a month and to return if any complications arise. I have no new information for you, and I swear I will let you know as soon as I do.”

With that, she left, eager to get in a bit of a break before returning to work. Why had she picked up another twelve hour shift again?

Logan turned to Patton, a red flush covering his cheeks from the nurse’s sharp, reprimanding tone. He hadn’t meant to be so troublesome to the people trying to help Patton, but he was worried. A lot more than he should be.

When they had started dating five years ago, Patton had been totally honest with him about everything, from past partners to family life, and especially about his health. Logan had taken it in stride, avoiding stress-inducing situations in favor of nights in on the couch watching Big Hero 6 or the like and holding his hands throughout all the checkups and hospitalizations like these. And even though this had happened in the past, Logan still felt a sense of dread that he hadn’t felt in any of the other occasions.

He took a deep breath trying to stabilize himself.

“Gee, teach, no need to breathe so deep. You’re already full of hot air.”

He turned to see Patton smiling tiredly at him and squeezed his hand in return.

“Says the man who will brag for hours about how his daycare kids are doing.” Despite his teasing words, Logan’s smile stretched across his face.

“They grow so fast!” Patton protested indignantly.

Logan shook his head.

“Logan...” Patton’s voice had taken on a tone of seriousness. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

Logan’s silence said it all.

Patton frowned. “You have to take care yourself, You’re always on me to do it!”

Logan opened his mouth to resist, but Patton interrupted. “I’m not talking to you until you get something to eat.”

“Patton...”

He simply turned away, not even bothering to look at Logan.

Logan groaned, loath to leave Patton, but knowing it was the only way to get him to relent. “Fine. I’ll get a sandwich from the cafeteria. Happy?”

Patton rolled back over to reveal a bright, sunny smile. “Yep!”

Logan simply chuckled, dropping a kiss on Patton’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, Angel.”

“Later, gator!” Patton laughed.

Logan walked out the door, determined to make this the fastest trip ever.

The universe, however, was determined to thwart him. First of all, the cafeteria was at the other end of the hospital, meaning a lot of time was spent waiting for an elevator and then walking the entire length of the building. It didn’t get any better on arrival, either. As it was apparently dinnertime (Logan hadn’t even noticed the time passing by, his eyes so glued to Patton he didn’t even look at the clock), the line for food stretched out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. Logan simply resigned himself to his fate, getting in line.

He was in the middle of calculating how long it would take to reach the front of the line if each person took on average a minute and a half to order and receive their food (as way too many reached the front and only then decided to check out the options) when that niggling sense of doubt returned in a much stronger force, speeding his heart rate and making his breaths come quickly.

He closed his eyes, remembering what he would tell his friend Virgil when he had one of these episodes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight.

Come on Logan, there’s nothing to be scared of. The doctors and nurses here know what they’re doing and will take good care of Patton. They already told you he was fine, that he’s coming home tomorrow.

By the time he reached the front of the line, he’d calmed down enough to order his ham and cheese sandwich and head back to Patton.

When he exited the elevator, he could tell something was wrong. Nurses were flying out of the surrounding rooms, all headed towards the end of the hall yelling out medical instructions he didn’t understand. He and the other visitors were being asked to go back down to the lobby. He complied only after trying to get to Patton’s room and being given a death glare by one of the scarier nurses.

Sitting in the lobby, he tried to distract himself by opening up his phone and looking through some files from work. Even though their new tour for middle schoolers was the most fun project he’d worked on in months, all he could think was about how he’d told Patton about it yesterday and the two of them had pitched ideas at each other for hours, growing more and more excited until a nurse came to tell them to calm down.

You’ll get to do that again. You’ll be able to go talk to Patton soon. They’re just going to call over the friends and family of the person who was in danger and tell them what happened and let everyone else go back upstairs. See, here comes the doctor for that floor now, about to call over-

“Friends and family of Patton Sanders?”

No.

Logan stood on shaking legs, barely aware of walking over to the doctor with the gentle face that warned of bad news to come. Buzzing overtook his ears, blocking out most of what the doctor was saying. He just barely managed to make out “sudden cardiac death...usually no symptoms...was asleep...didn’t hurt...sorry for your loss...”

Logan offered no response, simply turning around and returning to his seat. The doctor gave him a sad smile, then started escorting the rest of the visitors upstairs, leaving Logan alone in the lobby. Alone with his thoughts.

Logan reached into his bag with a trembling hand and pulled out a soft, velvet box. He opened it, eyes shining as he looked at the ring he had taken so long to pick out.

He was supposed to give it to Patton tomorrow, when they got home. Surprise him at the moment he least expected it, when he was preoccupied greeting their golden lab Thomas. He was going to attempt to give a romantic, from-the-heart speech (which had taken him three weeks to write) but most likely would have been interrupted by a squealing Patton saying yes before he could even get a word out.

They were supposed to get married on a summer’s evening, like they’d planned. They would hold the ceremony in an open field, the lights around them dim enough so they could see the stars slowly start to replace the sun in the sky. Patton was going to try and teach Thomas to carry the rings down the aisle, and Logan was going to agree to let him and ask his brother Roman if his kid would be prepared to do it on the side.

They were supposed to be a family. They were going to adopt, something that had taken Logan a long time to even consider. They were going to spoil their kid to death, Logan helping them with homework and Patton cooking their favorite foods for every meal, taking them on trips to Disney World, teaching them all they could about the wonderful world they lived in.

They were supposed to grow old together, retiring to some place on the beach so they could go stargazing every night, Logan pointing out the constellations with a wrinkled hand and Patton smiling at him with the light of the sun in his eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Logan got up and walked out the door, stopping only to throw out the box and, after a thought, the sandwich. He wasn’t really that hungry anymore.

[andromytta]

What’s a Snookie?

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 20 | andromytta vs. @inter-ruptingmoose

Prompt: Ice Cream Cones

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 1631

No Archive Warnings Apply. Tags: 

Fluff and Humor

Snookie may be OOC

fanboy dean

boardw

Summary:  Two families go on vacation to celebrate getting into Princeton. Two soon to be Ivy Leaguers realize they have a common passion.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498963

Written for @spngenrebingo  Square Filled:  Free Fluff

Claire Winchester-Novak was going to have the greatest two weeks of her life.  Her dads were taking her and her best friend, Alex Hanscomb-Mills, to the Jersey Shore to celebrate her getting a full ride to Princeton.  It also worked out well for Alex’s moms, who were in Europe taking a second honeymoon.  Claire couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time between high school and college than with her favorite people in the world.

Three days into their trip, the four of them were walking along the boardwalk, as they had done the days previous.  Claire and Dean were in the middle, with Castiel next to Dean and Alex next to Claire. Claire suddenly looks up at her dad and says, “Hey!  Do you think we’ll be blessed with a Snookie sighting?”

“What’s a Snookie?” Castiel and Alex asked simultaneously.

Dean and Claire shared a love of trash TV that the others just didn’t get.  Dr. Sexy, MD and Jersey Shore were their favorites to binge watch, and they were both fans of Snookie.  When the reality show star had a guest role on Dr. Sexy, they wouldn’t stop talking about it for days.  Clearly no one was paying attention.

“Actually, Kiddo,” Dean began as he pulled something up on his phone and held it up to her, “we are definitely getting a Snookie sighting today, and an autograph.”

Claire excitedly grabbed his phone out of his hand as she read the screen.  “She’s doing a book signing?  Here?  At the boardwalk?  And you’re taking me?  You are the best dad ever!”  She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before handing his phone back.

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Castiel asked from the other side of his husband.

“Ok, fine, you’re an awesome dad too,” Claire replied and kissed his cheek as well.

“Ugh.  I think I’m going to puke!” Alex announced from Claire’s other side.

“Hey, just because Jody and Donna dumped you with us instead of taking you Europe is no reason to rain on our happy family parade, young lady,” Dean quipped.

Alex dropped her head in her hand and groaned.  “Why do I even know you people?”

Claire slung an arm around her best friend’s shoulders.  “Because you love me, and you know I come with dork dad baggage.”

“Hey, I thought we were awesome!” Dean protested.

Claire shrugged.  “I’m a teenaged girl.  My affections are fickle.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Once I get you to Snookie, I’ll be awesome again.”

“It’s possible.”

***

Elsewhere on the boardwalk, Kevin Tran and his mother Linda were also taking a holiday to celebrate his own full ride to Princeton.  Kevin was currently pleading with his mom to take him to the aforementioned bookstore.

“I can’t believe with your limited exposure to television for one hour a week, you spent it watching trash television!  What else did you watch?  That horribly inaccurate Dr. Sexy, MD?  You could have been watching National Geographic.”

“Mo-om!  I have to rest my brain somehow!  Relaxation is just as important for neurological development as study is.  Man cannot live on caviar alone!”

“Ok, fine, we’ll go see this Snookie.  You did work hard all through high school, and you’ll be working even harder once you start college.  I suppose you deserve your hobbies.”

“Great!  Let’s go!”  Kevin practically dragged his mom down the boardwalk towards the bookstore.

They made short work of their journey, and soon Kevin found himself standing in line to meet the reality star of his dreams.  His mother was standing off to the side, trying to look stern, but failing miserably, her son’s joy bringing a smile to her face.  Kevin was bouncing on the balls of his feet and trying to see the autograph table over the crowd, paying no mind to the line forming behind him.

Claire and Dean arrived around the same time, standing in line while Castiel and Alex stood off to the other side, rolling their eyes fondly.  Claire had her back to the person in front of her as she was animatedly talking to Dean about their favorite Snookie moments.  “Remember when she was on Dr. Sexy and she played a ghost, but being transparent didn’t take away from her sassiness and she was like…” Claire was gesturing wildly and didn’t notice when she took a step back and ran right into the back of Kevin Tran.

“Hey, watch it…” Kevin started just as Claire turned around to apologize.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” The words trailed off as their eyes locked, blue to brown.  Claire was the first to break the silence.  “Um, hi.  I’m Claire.” She offered her hand to him to shake.

He gulped and accepted the proffered hand.  “Kevin, uh, my name…that’s my name.”

Claire smiled brightly at him.  “Nice to meet you, Kevin.”

Dean not-so-subtly pulled their still clasped hands apart.  “I’m Claire’s Dad.  Nice to meet you,” he grumped as he shook hands with the stunned boy.

“Um…hi Claire’s Dad…” Panic started to fill his chocolate eyes as Dean continued to shake his hand aggressively.

“Dad, stop,” Claire ordered, removing his hand and pushing him back.

As the line crept forward, Claire engaged in small talk with the cute boy in front of her, much to Dean’s dismay.  He tried to join the conversation multiple times, but backed off when Claire scowled at him, so he resigned himself to standing behind her and pouting.  He wasn’t able to engage his daughter’s attention again until they were at the autograph table.

Claire was first.  “Oh my God.  You’re amazing, I love you so much.  You were my favorite on Dancing With the Stars,” Claire gushed as her book was signed.  “My dad brought me because I got into Princeton,” she continued on.  Snookie signed her book “Congrats on the Ivy League. Love, Nicole.”  Claire stared at her book as she was waiting for Dean.

“Uh, hi, um, Nicole. You’re so pretty,” he stammered awkwardly as he presented his own copy of her book.

Claire interrupted. “That’s my dad.  Sorry he’s such an old skeezer.”

“I dunno, he’s kinda cute,” she replied as she started to sign.  “You got a name, Daddio?”

“Dean.  My name’s Dean.”

She finished signing and handed his book back.  “Here you go, Hot Stuff.”  She winked at him as he clutched the book to his chest and backed away.

Dean was so stunned by his interaction that he didn’t even notice when Claire wandered off with Kevin. In a daze, he found where Castiel and Alex had been waiting for them.  “Snookie thinks I’m cute,” he said to Castiel.

“Well, that makes one of us,” his husband replied dryly.

“Shut up, you love me.”

“You’re lucky I do,” Cas said as he looked around for their daughter.  “Dean, where’s Claire?”

Alex chuckled as she spoke up.  “Over there with that cute boy she bumped into in the line.”  She pointed to where the two were ducking out the door.  “Oh great, now I’m stuck with the Dork Dads.”

***

Claire giggled as she and Kevin ducked out of the store, ditching their parents.  “Hmmm, I guess I should feel bad stranding Alex with my dads,” she said as they made their way down the boardwalk.

“Alex?  Is that your boyfriend?” Kevin asked nervously.

“No, Alex is a girl,” Claire replied vaguely.

“Oh, so your girlfriend?”

“Haha.  No, just my best friend.  More like a sister.  My girlfriend and I broke up after her mom died and she had to move away.”

“So, you’re single?” Kevin fished for information.

“Yep.  You?”

“Uh, yeah.  Ever since my girlfriend went crazy and slit her roommate’s throat.  I’m pretty sure she got possessed by a demon.”

“Wow.  Creepy.  So, what do you say we go get some ice cream?”  Claire’s ability to gloss over the most uncomfortable situation with food was surely a habit she picked up from Dean.

“Oh, uh, ok.  Sure.”

They walked to a little ice cream stand a few blocks away from the bookstore.  Claire ordered the “Napoleon,” a giant waffle cone filled with five scoops of whatever flavors she wanted.  Kevin paid, even though he didn’t get anything but water.  They sat at a nearby bench and when Kevin tried to dip a spoon into Claire’s cone, she pulled it away.  

“Dude!  If you wanted ice cream, you should have ordered some!”

“But, I thought you were going to share.  Especially when you asked me what kind of ice cream to get.”

“I was looking for a suggestion, not offering you my treat.”

“Rude!  I bought it!” Kevin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok, fine.  You can have a bite.  One bite, from this layer.”  She pointed at the third scoop down, a blue one with multicolored bits throughout.

“Awesome, bubblegum. I always wanted to try that flavor.” Kevin helped himself to a hearty spoonful of the confection.

“Hey, not so much!” Claire protested with a laugh.

Kevin grinned at her and went in for another bite.  “So, Claire, what would you say if I asked you out for dinner and movie?”

“I’d ask what’s for dinner and what movie?”

“Hmmm….” Kevin made a show of thinking deeply.  “Burgers and the new Marvel film?”

“Make it Star Wars or no deal.”

“Done.  Saturday night?”

“Done.  We’re staying at the Palms, room 210.  Pick me up at 7?”

“Hey, so are we. 310.”

Claire looked at him, shy for the first time.  “We could walk back together?”

“Ok.”  Kevin stood up and reached for her hand.  

She let him pull her up and they were met with three pairs of stern parent eyes: blue, green, and brown. Alex stood off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest.  “Busted,” she chuckled at them.

[thefairefolk-rp]

Welcome, Kan! Your application for Effie Dill has been accepted!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Nickname: Kan.

Age: 18 Years Old.

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her.

Timezone: EST. (UTC -5:00)

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10): I go to college during the week, but I generally have 2+ hour breaks, and do not get off late, so my availability is a solid 8 during the week. During the weekend, I spend time with my family, but I’m able to multi-task, so my availability is about a strong 8 there too.

Have you read the rules and FAQ? Yep! 

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character: Effie Dill.

Second Choice Character: Ingrid Faolan.

What made you choose this character?:

I spent quite a lot of time “lurking” around the open character pages, and repeatedly back-tracked to the “Locations”, “Customs”, and “Plot” pages before deciding on picking Effie Dill as my desired character. I was pretty indecisive between Effie and Ingrid, but with pacifistic neutrality of the Sparrow Clan and Effie, I thought it would be a better idea to stretch myself out in a different character personality than ones I’ve played previously. Normally, I’d go for characters like Ingrid, who are more heroic in a physical manner, but Effie’s care for the animals of the Lira Forest is what kept bringing me back to her. I’m going to college to pursue Veterinary Studies so that was a piece to my reasoning as to why I’d enjoy her character more than Ingrid’s, alongside Ephigenia’s pacifistic personality and her old-fashioned point of few. I’d actually like to help Effie grow through interactions with those of different courts and clans, because she’s been sheltered and hidden away in the depths of the trees between Anvali and the Seraphine Sea, therefore her exposure to the cultures and ideas of the city fae, besides those concerning war and prejudice, is practically non-existent.

Her little half- sister has far more experience than her in that area, and I think that it would be a good way to break down Effie’s steady walls and turn her inside out. She’s the firstborn, responsible, steady, and reliable, with a skill for healing, but she seems to be ignorant in the ways of fae outside her clan, and thus to be able to handle the neutrality of the Sparrow Clan and to be an efficient diplomat and successor to her mother, exposure would further her knowledge of the world’s workings. Yet, I believe, that there is a single thought, that she hates and curses the most for its existence, and I believe that the thought may be “What if…?” I’ve thoroughly enjoyed looking through all the characters, and hope that you all will consider me as an efficient roleplayer for her!

Are there any changes you would like to make?: Nope!

Questions/Comments: I did make a Pinterest board for Effie! I’ll link it here https://www.pinterest.com/santakre/effie-dill/

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

               Effie held the Goldfinch up to her eyes and touched its right wing with care. The little burst of color had been tucked away at her tree house for four weeks, and she had watched over its healing of its broken wing. She had just un-wrapped the gauze three days ago, and was filled with happiness when the right wing fluttered and stretched. The Goldfinch could have easily left then, but Effie had wanted to make sure that her little friend could fly properly before taking off, and that had landed her where she is now. The Goldfinch inquisitively chirped at her and Effie dipped her finger lightly, stroking the bird’s head with her free left hand. “I know, you’re ready to fly. So impatient aren’t we? Alas, that cannot be helped.” Effie whispered to the bird. “Alright then. Three dips of the finger and off with you little friend.”

         Effie could feel the Goldfinch clutch her fingers between its tiny talons, and she dipped it once, twice, and she could almost hear the confidence in its beady eyes as she dipped her occupied finger a third. With a flutter of sunbathed feathers, the weight on her finger was lifted and the Goldfinch had soared into the air. Effie could feel a piece of her heart lift with it, a light bright and fluttering before it disappeared into the thickness of the tree tops, and she was alone once more.

      In the wake of the Goldfinch’s departure, she had dug her bare feet into the warm earth to ground herself. She was used to having her patients leave, and was grateful for their temporary company, but they always left a mix of pride, loneliness, and wistfulness behind. If only the city fae hadn’t brought war to this world, then maybe she would be out there, not hiding, never hiding. Yet…she has a duty to not only her clan, but to the forest. The forest is home, life, and balance. Effie could not think of anything more perfect than the songs of birds winding through the air and the smell of the moss and dirt after rain, thick and startlingly fresh in her lungs. Ephigenia also knew, that lying in her heart, was the disgusting feeling of wanting more. This tiny part of her wanted to leave like the Goldfinch did, leave her clan behind, and how much did she despise and love the tradition of disliking war, for it had spun the Sparrow Clan into this stagnant ambiguity that grounded her core, but left her fingers itching for a spark on their fingers. Some days, Effie wanted to burn bright with that hunger, but she hated it, and it was not the way of the Sparrow Clan, and so, like the Goldfinch, she let those wanting thoughts flutter away with the wind.

    She could not bear the dark much longer.

[bi-apps]

Accepted - Tarquin McTavish (OC)

thedcrkling

submitted:                                    

OOC Information:

Name/Age/Timezone- Zahra/20/GMT+5

Activity Level- Like a 6-7. i should be around often for the next three weeks because uni is off but once that starts again i should still be able to do replies at least once every two days and usually every night.

Ships/Anti-Ships- tarquin/chemistry

Did you read the rules? Yep!

IC Information:

Character Name- Tarquin Troye McTavish

Age/Birthdate- He is 23 years old and was born on 15th April 1955

Faceclaim- 1. Jacob Elordi 2. Avan Jogia 3. Samuel Larsen

Label- The Anarchist

Loyalty-

Neutral but leaning towards the Death Eaters.Tarquin is neutral. He would tell anyone who asked him that this wasn’t his war. Despite how penniless his family now was, he was still a Pureblood and in a manner, the war didn’t affect him. He wasn’t the one who was being hunted and though he could be sympathetic for those who were, he was also selfish.  Did he think it was wrong to want to eradicate people based purely on their blood status? Yes. It wasn’t fair but then, life was hardly ever fair and war never was.  Survival only came to those who fought for it. War was always about power and even though Tarquin always distanced himself from it, he could see that much. He was neutral but the fact remained that the Death Eaters would feel no hesitancy in hurting someone like his sister; Muggles, Muggleborns and Squibs were all worth nothing to them and for that reason, even though he could see how allying himself with them would be more beneficial he could never bring himself to do it.

Former House- Gryffindor

Occupation- Store Clerk at Borgin & Burkes

Blood Status- Pureblood

Patronus- to them that they show openly, and have no problem doing it. However, there is more to them than just an impression, they have parts of their past that are a bit dark, and that has caused them to grow a bit cynical. They don’t like to show their feelings to others, as they like to maintain the impression for themselves and for others that they are unbreakable. They are not fast to warm up to anyone, but once they do they will protect you with all that they have. The most common house for a tiger patronus is Slytherin. The most common signs are Gemini and Aquarius.

Boggart- He fears Azkaban the most. He doesn’t think he could bear to return to that place again. Before Azkaban though, his Boggart always took the form of his sister dying at his father’s hand because he has definitely felt that fear as he was growing up. At this point, his fear would take the form of him being in a prison cell in Azkaban with Dementors surrounding him and unable to do anything but watch as one of the Dementor’s suck his sister’s soul.

Traits-

+creative: Tarquin is so much more than he appears on the surface. His creativity is visible in the music he makes, in how he can spin something out of nothing. It isn’t something he realizes because despite what everyone else thinks of him, he will forever be his own worst critic, but Tarquin has a knack for making the most mundane things sound beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. +courageous: there is no fight big enough, no confrontation dangerous enough to make Tarquin back down. It is not that he doesn’t feel fear only that in the years he has spent with his father he has learned to live with it. He has learned how to move past it and not let it stop him. His courage is what gives him life, it is what enables him to keep fighting even when he wanted , so much, to simply give up. +intelligent: Not only is Tarquin very street smart, he also has a way of retaining information. He never paid too much attention in school but his affinity for Transfiguration, one of the hardest subjects was a clear indicator of his intelligence. His intelligence also comes in handy while working at Borgin & Burkes, after all everyone knows there is something off about the shop but it takes a good bit of cunning to make sure no one ever finds the proof. With the sort of people he deals with on a daily basis, people who are waiting for a moment of weakness, he has to be sharp or they’d chew him alive.

Three negative traits -aggressive: it doesn’t take much to set Tarquin off. His anger is his worst enemy and he is well aware of the fact. His rage clouds everything, it tinges everything red and it damages the few relationships he has managed to form. The aftermath of a fight is definitely worse. The adrenaline and the act of forgetting himself for those few minutes is never enough to mask the hatred that comes when he realizes the damage he has done. This was how his father dealt with things and Tarquin never wanted to turn out like this.

-noncommittal:  he is always on the fringes, never really dedicating himself to one cause or one person completely. He keeps everyone at a distance, never lets himself feel anything real. Tarquin would rather lash out and hurt other people than be the one who ends up bruised. Tarquin is forever hovering in the middle and it why he is perpetually restless and dissatisfied with life. He gets bored easily, he overthinks and his fear of losing keeps him from really trying for anything in the first place.

-pride: what did he have to be proud of? And yet, when everything was taken from him, Tarquin latched onto his pride as if that was the only thing that would save him. It did in a way, it kept him afloat, kept him from losing his mind but it has also gotten in the way of every happiness.   Tarquin puts his pride before everything and it continues to cost him dearly.

Aesthetic- cigarette smoke, blood on the first four knuckles, stormy nights

Key Points-

(tw: abuse) Tarquin’s earliest memory was this: his baby sister crying, the sound of glass breaking, amber liquid sloshing on the marble, his father’s voice reverberating around the room, his mother flinching before she regained her composure, his father striding out of the hall and then- his mother rushing towards him and picking him up, her smile just as bright as he was used to. His fear and uncertainty had dispersed just like that as she whisked him away to get him ready for the gala.

Tarquin was born to Pureblood parents and though he has heard tales of the supposedly great bloodline they have, he isn’t sure if any of it is true or his father’s drunken delusions. For as long as Tarquin could remember, they had little money. Sure, they had a manor that was falling apart but their vaults were damn near empty and their name no longer carried any influence. The Pureblood society was quick to move on from anyone who didn’t fit in the carefully cultivated image and when their family lost their wealth, they also lost their social standing.

This was how he remembered his mother: she was a flurry of skirts, she was lips painted red, she was the laughter that rung around the house and a part of him couldn’t help but resent how she never turned her back on his father.

Tarquin was born as the cherished first born and though he has no memory of those years, he was loved. Their lifestyle was nowhere as lavish as the other Purebloods but children are easy to please and he didn’t lack for anything. His sister was born two years later. She had always been there, featured in his every memory and he always knew he would protect her no matter what the cost.  

His father was a drunk and a gambler. It steadily grew worse and like every other gambler he believed that he would be able to recover the money. He dreamed of restoring them to their old standing, of everyone who had turned their back on the family to come back offering apologies. They were nothing more than delusions. His father liked to believe he was a powerful man but like every coward who believes himself to be a hero, the only ones who he could bend to his will was the woman who had always loved him and his children who were too young to know better.

It might have been a home once but as far as Tarquin could remember, the manor had been a cold, dark place to grow up. His father would return home every night, squandering what little money he had. He would throw punches at the wall, he grew paranoid and believed himself wrong in every little thing. Tarquin started to hate him.

His little sister was a form of solace in the place. She took after his mother, where Tarquin had his father’s eyes, his sister had their mother’s smile. She was easy to get along with where he was withdrawn, she was quick to laugh where he went days without hardly a smile. They would spend hours together, playing in their room and pretending they didn’t hear their father break yet another out in the hall. He pretended he didn’t see the strain in his mother’s eye, didn’t see the way she flinched whenever his father raised his voice or how she suddenly started wearing more makeup than before.

Other Purebloods had formal lessons but his mother took it upon herself to spend time with her children. They learned Spanish when she spoke it at home and each evening she would sit down on the piano between the two of them and for a while, until their father came home, it would be nothing short of bliss. Tarquin fell in love with music then. He learned quickly and it was the first thing that was entirely his. It was what made him calm down when he got in one of his moods or when he had a temper tantrum. It made him feel less alone and soon, he wanted to play every chance he got.

Hogwarts came as a relief for him. His life at home was starting to get suffocating, his father’s temper was continually getting worse and there was no escape. He was sorted into Gryffindor and knew that the news would be met with contempt from his father. As exciting as Hogwarts had seemed from a far, it might be fair to say that Tarquin had romanticized it quite a bit or perhaps the damage had already been done, at only eleven years old and he simply couldn’t connect with people. Everyone was so friendly, so happy and to Tarquin it seemed like nothing short of a miracle. He had never known it was so easy to simply strike a conversation, to laugh and show off the new broom they had received as a gift. He simply couldn’t do it and earned a reputation for being reticent and withdrawn. No one really knew what Tarquin was like except for his quick temper and his impulses that only left chaos in their wake.

The truth was that Tarquin had learned to find solace in the anger. He could never articulate just how lonely he felt and the only way he could show it was through lashing out. He never let anyone close enough to let them hurt him, it was the only way he could hide his vulnerability. Eventually, he made a few friends mostly owing to their efforts. There were a few people who could draw him out of his shell and with them Tarquin found a family that brought him more comfort than his own ever had.

He dreaded the summers but he always returned back to that cold, empty place. He would have never abandoned his mother and sister like that. Tarquin was all but counting the days until his sister could join him at Hogwarts and he could breathe freely knowing that she was safe but on her eleventh birthday the letter never came. Suddenly, it was crystal clear; the one thing the whole family had closed their eyes to. His sister had never displayed any signs of magic. His father’s rage at having a Squib for a daughter was unparralled. Tarquin flinched every time he said the word as if it was a curse and to this day, this is still what he sometimes sees when he closes his eyes: his father red in the face, throwing a glass at her that only narrowly missed. His father wrapping his hand around her arm and dragging her to the cupboard, screaming at her to do something. His sister’s screams as she reached for him, for their mother and then the slam of the door as he locked her, knowing she was afraid of the dark.

Tarquin wasn’t aware of it but he was screaming as well, begging and crying to let her out. What happened next is also burned in his memory forever: he had attacked his father with bony elbows and rage that was far too much to be contained in his thirteen year old body. His father had resolved the whole thing with throwing him in the dark, cramped cupboard alongside his sister. They had huddled close all night and though Tarquin didn’t cry, every tear of his sister that soaked through his shirt felt like acid. It wasn’t until his father had passed out that his mother unlocked the cupboard. A part of him never forgave her for taking so long.

His sister was sent to Muggle London and excuses were made, lies were told and her existence was hardly ever spoken of. Something fundamental changed in him that day, he learned that you had to fight for every single inch that you took from life. He had to fight with loud words and bruised knuckles and bloody hands. He had to wring what he wanted because life was kind to no one.

Years passed in an anger fuelled blur, he visited his sister in Muggle London as often as he could and every time his heart felt lighter when he saw how she was happier and better adjusted. His situation at home continued to worsen and he was sixteen the first time he saw his father push his mother in a wall. He was no longer the skinny thirteen year old though and he paid his father back for that in the form of a broken nose. Tarquin had always hated needles but that year he got his first tattoo. He had scars all over his body, remnants of so many fights gone wrong but he refused to live with one that his father had given him.

He started to write songs, though not many people knew. Strumming away on a guitar somehow made the time pass easier and it seemed as if the only time he could ever make sense of what he was feeling- of the anger and the hatred and the mind numbing pain he felt- was when he wrote it in a song. He never believed himself to be good enough to consider a career in music, but it kept him afloat.

The next year, two months after he graduated from Hogwarts, his mother died. The pain consumed him, it didn’t let him breath; there was a hole in his heart from her absence because despite what resentments he might have harbored there was one thing he could never deny: his mother had loved him. It was the first time he shed tears in what had been years but he cried for every terrible thought he had, had towards her, for every way he had let her down, for never telling her what she needed to hear and because he had not been the son she deserved.

Her death send him in a terrible spiral, one which there was no coming back from. The chaos and adrenaline was the only thing that made him feel anything other than despair. The smell of blood on his knuckles made him feel alive even if it was in the worst of ways. It was truly terrible; how he would lose himself in the violence and later only feel the barest hint of regret. It came to a head when his neighbor called his sister a slur and he responded by Transfiguring the man in a tea kettle. Azkaban was dreadful, the dementors seeping away any hope he might have left and his days spent in the prison still haunt him but he never regretted it.

It also served as a wakeup call. Tarquin doesn’t want to spend his life like this; he wants to know something other than this churning hatred. For as long as he has remembered he had only known violence and he is not blind to the similarities between himself and his father. It makes him nauseous every time he thinks about it. He wants to try to be someone better, someone more whole. He has more in common with his shadow than with the person causing it but Tarquin knows that there is no salvation in the middle of a war.

Connections- Alecto Carrow - friend Edgar Bones - can’t stand them Ludovic Bagman - used to play Quidditch with

Extra Info-

Headcanons: 1. He is pansexual. His sexuality is something that he never advertised but he has also come to terms with it and doesn’t exactly hide it either. In the past he has had relationships with all genders though most of them were purely physical. He finds it hard to open up to people and keeps them at arm’s length. 2. Tarquin has this deep seated mistrust of the pureblood society. He claims that there is a reason that everyone who has left this world is happier for it. He is glad that his sister was able to live a happier life in Muggle London despite everything that happened. He can see clearly how most pureblooods, in his opinion, are living a lie and just cover up all the dirtiness with lavish parties. 3. He is terrified of turning into his father and it is the one reason that despite his vices, he stays away from drinking. They are already more alike than Tarquin is comfortable with and the hatred he has for the man is like fire coursing through his veins. He often feels lost and lonely and tells himself that he is alright with it. That it isn’t really loneliness if he wants to be alone. 4. He still has nightmares about Azkaban. The dementors seemed to have seep away every little hope that was left in him, every dream and every aspiration until he couldn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. It was easily the most harrowing experience of his life and yet, he has no regrets. He went to Azkaban because someone called his sister a slut and he retaliated by transfiguring the man in a tea kettle. Not many people knew this though because he refused to explain himself so all they say was yet another Pureblood extremist. As far as Tarquin is concerned, that man had it coming and he would absolutely do the same thing all over again.

here is his pinterest board and his tag on my writing blog!! Playlist: i. one day – kodaline ii. Get better – nothing but thieves iii. Ten tonne skeleton – royal blood iv. Some boys – death cab for cutie v. you don’t get me high anymore – phantogram vi. 1 of those weaks – the neighbourhood vii. Paris – the 1975

Para Sample-

This is a scene from his mother’s funeral!

Tarquin remembered his mother’s funeral in flashes.

More than the actual events he always remembered the sinking feeling in his chest, he remembered feeling so completely untethered from everything going around him. It didn’t help that he had known it was going to happen, after all she had been sick for a while. Only that the reality of it was so crushing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for it. He was drowning in his own misery, in all the things he should have said. He didn’t remember her funeral but God, he remembered every single bitter word that had crossed his lips. He remembered the way her face had caved in every single time until without fail, she had pulled herself together, patted his cheek and laughed it off. More than anything else he remembered his mother’s laugh, the way it had lit up any room she was in. Her children had that same laugh but no one would have guessed it because few had heard Tarquin laugh freely and Theia was far away.

Tarquin wanted to only remember the good things about his mother. He had wanted to remember her as the mother she had wanted to be; the one who had called him mi cielito ( he couldn’t remember the last time she had called him by his name and not some term of endearment) and loved to hear him play the piano but the resentment almost choked him every time he thought of how time and time again she had chosen the man who had hurt them over her own children. It turned everything inside him smoldering red, the way she had never defended him but never defied him either. It left him grasping for breath whenever he thought of the ways she had let them down when they were too young to fight for themselves.

And yet, she had loved him. She had loved everyone she came across, even those that weren’t worthy of her but she had loved him in a way made him fall to pieces at all the ways he had rejected it.

And so, this was what he remembered of his mother’s funeral:

he remembered his sister setting foot in the manor that her father had thrown her out of for the first time since she was eleven, looking every bit the image of their mother. he remembered her speaking to him but he didn’t remember what she had said, instead he remembered feeling as if he was floating above the whole scene; his sister’s  hand on his arm and him standing completely still until she had fallen silent as she realized nothing they were saying was reaching him.

he didn’t remember until later how his relatives were talking about his sister being cursed and how she had walked away from them with more iron and strength than he could ever possess. at that time he had only felt someone tightening his hold on his arm which was just as well - the last thing he needed to do was cause a scene at his mother’s funeral. oh no, he would find plenty of ways to give in to his rage later.

he remembered sitting next to his sister and feeling like a ghost; a shell of a person, someone who was present but not alive. and hell, even he had known that was wrong and so, he had dug his nails hard enough in his sister’s arm to leave crescent marks. theia had covered his hand with her own and he had used her as something to hold on to as he forced himself back inch by painful inch.

he remembered his sister wiping away her tears but he had never cried, he was chiseled out of stone and stone didn’t weep and he would never put his pain on display like this, but then she had always been stronger than him. he remembered how their father had been walking towards them, how his sister had taken half a step behind him and he had steeled himself but all he could think of was not here. not now. he didn’t have the energy for this. and so they had walked away. he had slipped his hand in hers and left their father to rot away in the manor that was falling down around him. his sister’s presence was something solid next to him  and there was a light breeze stirring and he could swear he could smell his mother’s perfume, and he remembered feeling not so terribly alone in that moment.

[etherealpotter]

Young Love (2)

A/N: this is part two, there will probably be a third and final part, haven’t really decided yet. also the characters are sort of ooc (obviously)

Pairing: Enoch O'Connor x Reader; Sister!Reader x Jacob

Warnings: none

Enjoy!

___________________________________________

“He’s asleep, lets go, now.” Jake said as I glanced up from my phone.

I nodded and followed him down the stairs, but he stopped me and signaled for me to turn back around.

“The guys down there would’ve told dad that we snuck out. We’re going to have to go through the window.”

We made our way back and hopped out the window, me first then Jake. We made our way to the cave to enter the loop.

Once we arrived back there, no one was waiting for us, so we walked until we saw the humongous house. And there was Hugh and Milliard playing outside. Both waved to us and continued plying there game.

Horace nodded at us while he strolled around the garden, his gaze lingering on Jacob’s clothing. I laughed at that.

Emma soon ran out and took Jake away, so I walked inside and ran into Miss Peregrine.

“Hello dear child, nice to see you’ve made your way back here. I’d like to talk to you for a moment, if you’d sit with me over some tea?” She asked in a polite voice, but I knew I didn’t really have a choice in talking to her or not.

I nodded and followed her into the sitting room as she went to get some tea.

When she came back, I took a cup from her hand and began to add sugar to it while she talked.

“I’ve noticed the effect you’ve had on Enoch, you know. He doesn’t like, well…people at all really. But for some reason, he seems very taken with you. Now I’m only sitting here telling you this, because we’ve seen it before. I don’t want any of my children getting hurt.”

“Believe me that’s the last thing i want to-” She cut me off before I could finish.

“I know you would never do it purposely, but you and Jacob, though you may belong here, won’t stay. You know there’s more to life, same as your grandfather did. That’s why I know my children will only be hurt when you leave. All i’m saying is, remember that while you may leave and meet new people and grow old, they never will. Just be careful with them, okay dear? That’s all.” She stood up and dusted herself off before leaving the room.

I was a little shocked to say the least. I shook my head and cleared it of all bad thoughts as I headed up to Enoch’s room. But I stopped outside his door when I heard voices.

I guess he and Olive were in there, together. I shook my head and thought about how stupid I could be. Of course he’d want someone who’s always going to be around. And that wasn’t me.

I turned back around and headed out to the garden where I spent the rest of the day with Fiona. She was very interesting to talk to and the first person i’d ever told my peculiarity to.

She grew me a nice sized apple, well a normal sized one. I leaned up against a tree as she continued to tel me about different plants.

I glanced up and saw Enoch looking down at me from the window, but when Olive walked over to him, I quickly looked away.

Boys were stupid, they could be as old as Enoch and still not get a clue. I couldn’t get him out of my head though. I suppose it was because he’s different, like me.

I haven’t always known how different I was, until a year ago. It was almost like a ‘Black Swan’ moment. My back began to ache and one day a feather fell on the ground while I was changing.

I had no idea where it came from, but I did notice strange marks on my back. I brushed it off as exhaustion and nothing more happened for a little bit.

And then just days before grandpa died, I felt a horrible ache in my back and saw the strange marks and the wings emerged.

That was my peculiarity, I had wings and I could fly. That was also when I knew the stories he used to tell us were true. And two days after my grandpa died, I used a fake id and got wings tattooed on my back.

Our parents flipped shit when they found out, but the psychiatrist convinced them it was a good thing and that it was my way of having a piece of grandpa with me forever, even convincing them that it was angel wings.

I shook my head at the memory that wasn’t too long ago. A sudden tapping on my foot snapped me out of my daze. A little creature had a note attached to it. I picked up the note and it read:

“Dearest Y/N, Please come up to my room, I would like to speak with you.”

I scoffed and picked up his little creature and walked inside anyways. Once I entered the room, I sat the thing down of his table.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“No need to be so harsh. I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve been here for over almost two hours and now you want to see me.” I said bitterly.

“I was busy earlier, sorry.”

“Yeah busy with your girlfriend.”

He started to say something, but I stopped him.

“No it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything. I get it, trust me I do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, if you mean Olive, she’s only a friend.” He said defensively.

“Of course I mean her, she likes you, you know. It’s pretty obvious. Stop being so dense.”

“Listen I only like you, I thought I made that clear yesterday.” He stood as he spoke and walked towards me.

Our lips brushed against each other’s as I spoke again,

“I’m still upset with you.”

He chuckled, “No you’re not or you wouldn’t be thinking about kissing me.”

I rolled my eyes and he pressed his lips against mine before I could argue. Sparks flew, despite how cliche it might sound, it was the truth.

We pulled apart and he smiled down at me.

“Want to help me work?” He asked.

I nodded, knowing this was his thing. I helped him make some creatures as we sat and talked about any and everything.

“You know you never told me your peculiarity?” He said, glancing over at me.

“I’ve never really spoken about it. No one’s ever seen it. If I show you, you can’t talk about it.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Okay, well i need you to unbutton my shirt then.”

He immediately blushed and started stammering.

“Just unbutton the back of it so i can show you.”

He moved over to me as I turned around and his shaky hand began to unbutton the back of my top. After he got enough undone, I told him to stop.

“You have a tattoo.” He said.

“Yep, I got it after I found out i was different. It’s in the exact place as my wings.”

“Wings? You can fly? You have wings?” He asked l, shocked.

“Yep, I’ll show you.” With that, I let my wings out and he gasped.

“They’re beautiful, can i touch them?”

I bit my lip and nodded. After a few moments he stopped and I put them away. Enoch began to button up my shirt again.

Before we could talk about what happened, there was yelling from downstairs and we both rushed down.

Miss Peregrine began to tell the children that they were leaving and to pack everything up that they needed. Jake grabbed my arm.

“Y/N, we have to leave! It’s coming.” Jake said, like I was supposed to know.

“What? What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, we have to go.”

I pulled out of his grip and gave Enoch a tight hug. He took a moment to hug back.

“I’ll see you soon.” I said.

“How can you be sure? What if you can’t find us?”

“I will. Be safe, please.”

He nodded and I turned towards Jacobs me we quickly left as the house was in full panic mode.

[elysiumrp]

Congratulations VEE! You have been accepted as Jasper Pitzen. Please go through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. If you need more time, make sure you send a message to the main.

When it comes to a character that has so many possible ways to develop them, it’s always a strange thing when it takes a while for an application to come in for them. But there’s always a reason – the right person has to come along, and here you are. Jasper is a pivotal person to the supernatural movement, both by being somewhat of a spokesperson for them and being the first to do what he is doing. It’s always exciting to allow a person to take on the challenge of a character they aren’t used to, but both of us feel you have the chops to do so. How you described the emotions he has, beyond just being in front of a crowd and behind closed doors, it’ll be a great addition to the character development already happening. It’s the determination you show that won us over, how you grasped how he is despite Jasper not being in your comfort zone and still wanting to play him. We’re here to become better writers, and with your determination, we hope this is the place will do that for you. Welcome to Elysium!!

OOC INFO

Name: Vee Age: 23 Timezone: EST Preferred Pronouns: She / Her  Previous RP Experience: [RFP] Activity Level: About a 4. I work long hours during the week from the afternoons until early the next morning (sometimes weekends) and will have to queue replies in my free time as I won’t have access to a computer. Any asks/IMs that I might receive will be answered a day later, and I may have to plan ahead of time for events in order to participate in them (depending on the duration of them). I know I’ll be working on July 4th, so I will not be around for the beginning of the event taking place that day. Anything Else: N / A

IC INFO

Character Name: Jasper Pitzen  Why did you choose this character:

I’m going to be honest and say it: I chose Jasper out of fear. Yep, I really did. When choosing characters, I usually play it safe and go with a personality type I feel comfortable writing. Time and time again I wind up playing the same character and it’s hard to tell if I’ve actually been growing as a writer. After a while, writing was beginning to lose its enjoyment for me. I felt stuck. I tend to shy away from super-serious political or government-related type characters as I feel I don’t have the knowledge to write them convincingly–research or not. They intimidate me. Now, I’m taking a chance with this app, conquering that fear the best way I can. It’s like that saying: “you won’t know until you try,” right?

To get down to specifics, I found the contrast between the younger “party-animal” Jasper (pun intended?) with the current straight-laced activist to be very interesting. I love symbolism and foreshadowing, so those two aspects of his life give me ample room to play around a little; I get to see how deep into Jasper’s character I can go in order to breathe life into him.

Additionally, Jasper is a character who’s out in the public eye constantly, so being careful with his words is a given. That allows me to put more thought (than usual) in what I’m typing out, to make sure things make sense for the questions that may arise. Jasper’s so different from myself that the extra effort needed to make him appear polished is very crucial to me.

Describe your plan for them:

As soon as I read Jasper’s bio and connections with the other characters, I saw him as this heartless, teasing, snobby rich kid who slides on a nice face for the cameras, but isn’t above threatening another supernatural to change their ways in order to make himself look better. With words that form riddles as well as threats, Jasper has more at stake and tends to lash out because of it. He’s not a villain…though that depends on who you ask. I love that duality about him; the way his character carries so many interpretations and how he’s each and every one of them when the situation calls for it. There’s so much negativity surrounding his character from the other supernaturals that there has to more to it than “he took my job” or “he can’t be trusted.” Jasper’s actually full of self-hatred and heart that he tries to hide for the sake of staying strong for his community. And that’s something what I want to focus on down the road.

Jasper seems to be so put together that I want to see him have a breakdown. Whether it’s from losing a part of the freedom he’s working so hard to gain or getting close enough to another and losing them, I want him to feel that raw emotion he’s been pushing aside since the day his wolf gene was triggered. I want him doing something really uncharacteristic, like seeking help from another in tears.

Furthermore, throughout the course of the story, I plan on having Jasper struggling to make allies of the other characters as he’s trying to understand their dislike of him. He wants them all registered with the database system, believing his work representing them is doing them a service; it’s possible that he’s tangling the web further. I want to have him questioning his identity, his self-confidence, and what it means to be a leader. Are his motives pure or clouded over with ulterior ones? Could that change over time? If possible, I’d really love to explore that.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the initial reveal of the supernatural world:

Jasper was in complete shock. As he was just coming back to everything, just getting used to hiding the supernatural side of himself, he’s suddenly pushed out into the open. Before Jasper has a chance to fully self-identify as being a werewolf and adjust to the new life in a densely-populated area as New York City, he’s alone for the first time against a world he doesn’t recognize. He chose to fade into the background as he’s done for the past few years, but that plan was ruined when he was chosen to be on the Council. Unsure of what to do with the status and reluctant to take the power, Jasper finally decides that standing out with others at his side was more likely to save his life than to go about things alone with a greater risk of being killed. There is strength in numbers; it is that strength that built the Jasper Pitzen the Council needed.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the current state of the world, and how it impacts them as an individual:

When the supernatural community lost the Council again, Jasper felt as though he left with it. He clung to the Council as part of the identity he was still searching for in the time that had elapsed. He spent days moping on the couch in his apartment or the stools in various bars, watching as the same people he fought to protect run past the city limits. He began to hear whispers of an uprising on darkened streets from those who supported the Council and demanded freedom. Wanting to feel that same passion he felt within the Council, Jasper joined what is the beginning of the Resistance in hopes of saving his people. Being thrust into the spotlight because of his disappearance and now because of his previously-hidden identity had left Jasper enjoying it more than he ought to. He’s having a piece of the life he could’ve had if his inner wolf never forced him to leave. It’s as if he’s playing the part of the bachelor again, kissing up to audiences purely for entertainment. He knows he has a job to do in promoting equality, but there’s a fine line between the two that he doesn’t mind crossing from time to time.

Para Sample:

“…and that’s my goal. World peace. An innocent little wish–something said by a child at the end of a holiday movie–but its meaning has grown immensely as of late; this isn’t something to make light of. We need to act on it now. Think about it. With all the violence going on in these times, would you want the children of our future harboring such seeds of hatred? Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to pass on wisdom and love? My question to you is this: How would you like to be remembered?”

The roar of applause from the studio audience brought a grin to Jasper’s face. He snuggled deeper into the cushions of the chair he sat on, posture perfect, the very definition of confidence. The daytime host beside him nodded in approval and for a moment, everything was glorious. It was if answering that question ended the battles between supernaturals and humans. The sky would offer rays of gold, the birds would sing Pit-zen! Pit-zen…the credits would start rolling—

“And now questions from our viewers at home!” The sing-song voice of the host ended the applause, along with Jasper’s illusion. She tossed the cards in her hands over her shoulder, pulling out a new set from underneath her chair’s cushion.

Jasper’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

What the hell?!

The supernatural spokesman recovered quickly, however, motioning the host closer so he could whisper in her ear, “We never agreed to this!”

“My show, my rules!” The host sat back in her chair while Jasper tried masking his anger. She flipped through a few cards before landing on one with a satisfied hum. “Okay, so werewolves have lots of fur, correct? How often do you shave? And do you shave everything?”

The audience roared once more.Jasper lowered his head into his hands.

Damn those curious humans!

Ever since the supernatural world had been exposed, questions were thrown as quickly as punches. Humans who were pro-supernatural—or curious in general—wanted to know more about the lives living alongside their own. And since Jasper Pitzen was front-and-center fighting for supernatural equality, he was the target of such nonsense. He had left the show’s studio later that day to find “Pitzen is the pits” smeared on the side of his limousine in dog shit. When he arrived at his apartment complex, a woman walking her dog asked if he could translate her dog’s barking for her. To which Jasper replied “may you and your dog have a fantastic day!” He finally made it to his room’s door, where another bag of dog food was waiting for him.

Shit!

And then there was the press conference. Oh, God. The press conference. Supernatural lovers and haters alike crowded the entrance of the building. It was there that a man asked if Jasper could hear his boyfriend cheating on him from the other side of the city (as if the area around them wasn’t loud enough), some people threw trash at him, a handful of people wanted autographs (Jasper even signed someone’s ass!), and a group of women wanted him to bite them.

“Bite them.” Jasper had told his bodyguard, “They wanted me to bite them. This isn’t some teen werewolf drama on TV. This is real life. The bite is a curse.”

What made matters worse was that Jasper didn’t get flak from the humans, but from his peers and other supernaturals as well. They laughed at him, asking him random werewolf questions they already knew the answers to just to get a reaction. It amazed Jasper how they acted as if their lives weren’t on the line, as if this was one big joke. Fighting for equality was never easy; these added obstacles made things much harder.

Was anyone actually listening to him if they were laughing?

As much as Jasper loved the celebrity treatment, was it hurting his chances of repealing the very laws that bound him to a life of scrutiny? Were the humans slowly seeing him as an equal?

Some days Jasper wanted to go back to his life of partying, doing lines of cocaine and sleeping with as many people his king-sized bed could hold. Instead he was subjected to moments of sitting on the floor in the fetal position, rocking back and forth as the tears kept flowing, wishing everything would just stop.

But the world doesn’t stop for anyone. Not even Jasper Pitzen.

Any questions/concerns/things you’d like to change: (siblings to add, pronouns, sexuality you’d like to specify, personality, face claim, history, etc., etc.)

As much as I read the plot/everything on Jasper, it’ll probably take me some time to catch up on everything that has happened so far and really let it soak in.