#you and jeff have gotta sort this shit out quick

[chenouttachen]

it’s like charlie didn’t realise exactly what the full effect of his plan would be until jeff tells him that babe is in mourning. he was so focused on making sure that babe was safe, on finding a way to save his family, on sacrificing himself to protect his loved ones, that he didn’t take a moment to think about said loved ones in the aftermath of his loss. when he asks ‘is babe very sad?’ it’s not about wanting to know just how sad he is, it’s the guilt of what he’s done, the pain he’s caused the man he loves, and he only just now is realising that it might not be something he can come back from.

[pluto-00]

Miles!42 hc’s

w/black!fem!reader

a/n: they way I see ppl write him is so stereotypical..this is still miles we’re talking about! Js bc he got braids n a cooler atmosphere, bro is NOT running w a gang. Plus if my spanish is used wrong, pls tell me!! I wanna make sure this is perfect.

also…these hcs are so silly and cute <33 had alot of fun writing this tbh.

Miles!42 who acts so hard in-front of others and his friends but really he’s just as dorky and awkward. (Likes playing minecraft but keeps it on the down-low, cuz he gets embarrassed.)

Huge video game enthusiast, from mortal kombat to terraria you already know he’s on that. Ganke and him play terraria all the time.

Miles!42 who mentions you all the time which kinda pisses Ganke off.

Does certain things to impress his uncle, trying to seem cool and more like a man. But you of all people, know he’s just fronting.

Miles!42 who thinks he seems sooo nonchalant, but really he cares about you so much.

Gotta huge soft spot for you and his mama.

When he comes over to your place to hang out, he always has some type of tubbaware filled with Rio’s cooking. She refuses to send that boy over without some sort of pleasantries. Which causes your mom to ask when is miles coming over, just to have some of ríos cooking.

“When’s that lil boyfriend of yours coming over? His momma cook food real good.”

“First of all, it’s for me. Ms.Morales loves me.”

Miles!42 who is a huge sneakerhead and will talk shit if he sees you with dirty air forces.

“Yo, you kinda nasty for that.”

“Whatchu talking about?”

“Why are your forces so dirty? Didn’t I tell you I got some sneaker cleaner at my place.”

“Mmcht, man get out my face, these are old ass hell.”

Gets a side job just to buy some sneakers or those over-priced spray ground book-bags.

Always leaving his friends to hang with you.

“I’m taking my girl out today, so I can’t.”

“I cant hang, me and my girl chilling tommorrow.”

Miles!42 who runs over to your place when yall had an argument, with your favorite soda and bag of chips he got from the corner store. Apologizes a-lot, especially if he knew was in the wrong.

“M’sorry, alright? I was doing too much.”

“No shit..” You’d say before pulling him into a hug.

Acts out for his little friends, calling you “ma” in-front of them, knowing damn well his real mama at home don’t play like that.

This boy will turn into somebody’s mother in public!! Talking shi under his breath in spanish, especially when he see’s ppl acting a fool in public.

“¿Estas personas no tienen entrenamiento en el hogar?”

Very assuring when it comes to you, especially when you over think something.

“You’re doing fine, mi querída. Don’t let those bad thoughts get to you..”

Anytime he see’s you in a cute outfit, hes so quick to say

“You look beautiful, te adoro.”

When Miles had you over at his place for the first time, he introduced you to his mother right away. And then later to Uncle Aaron.

You were nervous of making a bad first impression, but she found you very respectful and a good fit for Miles. Which led to her and you becoming really close, every-time you go over to Miles place you always ask where Rio is.

“Ms. Morales! You’re future daughter-in-law is here!” Which causes miles to get embrassed and for Rio to laugh.

“Ms. Morales, miles is being mean to me,” She goes along with it, jokingly telling miles to stop bothering you.

“Ms. Morales, you gotta teach me how to make this..” Who excitedly writes down the recipe and shows you step by step on how to make it.

Uncle Aaron likes you being with miles because you bring him out of his shell. He believes Jeff wouldve enjoyed your company too.

Miles!42 who’s tender-headed. Thats it.

Don’t let nobody but himself braid his hair. Which was a shock to Uncle Aaron, when he found out Miles let you wash and braid his hair.

But you swear up and down he act’s like a baby when you braid his hair, you literally have to resort to your black momma instincts when his head moves the slightest or his hand reaches up to the area you were braiding.

“Move ya hand!”

“You tugging on my scalp, fym?”

“Not my fault you tender-headed.”

“Mmcht-“

“Don’t suck ya teeth at me-“

Misses his dad dearly, calls you up to talk to you, anything to keep his mind off of it for a while. Only to eventually open up further, while you comfort him.

Miles is a big momma’s boy. Considering Rio is the only parent he has left, he would do anything for her. She’s stressed? He’s telling her to relax for the day. It’s mothers day? He’s going all out, with a boquete of her favorite flowers and a gift that she’s been talking about for the longest but never has had the time or money to buy.

Watches anime religiously, gets into those heated anime debates like who would win Goku or One punch man? Which is one is mopping the floor Sukuna or Gojo?

[petrichor-idyllic]

SAVIOR COMPLEX

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

Request for @thominho-luvin-bri

SUMMARY: Fem! Runner! Reader x Minho. Book based fic because of the availability of the Griever Serum, but movie Glade layout because I can remember it better. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

You're a new Runner, and an absolute pain in Minho's ass. You can't seem to obey him and keep getting yourself in trouble. So, when you get stung, Minho is left to play saviour. And doctor. Though, as he looks after you, he starts to think you might not be so bad and his feelings might not just be annoyance... until things go wrong again.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you nearly die, Minho being stressed, you stressing him out.

When Minho agreed to make you a Runner, he did not expect to be dragging your unconscious corpse back to the Glade.

He'd been training you a while now. He's never been a fan of looking after new Runners, but he didn't really know what to do with you. You're the only girl in the Glade, and have proven yourself to be determined and focused. Which has led to some disobedience.

It was a actually Alby's idea for you to become a Runner. You have a lot of stamina and used to work multiple jobs in the Glade, which led Alby to put you forward as a Runner.

Minho wasn't happy with this.

But with Alby's word, he had very little choice but to have you join his ranks.

But your current predicament is due to no fault of your own. A Griever came out of no where and stung you. You didn't even notice at first and the pair of you managed to make a brisk escape.

Until your veins turned black and you dived to attack Minho. He cracked you in the temple with the end of his machete and knocked you out cold.

He'll apologise later.

So, when he carries you bridle style through the Doors, exhausted and stressed, Alby is quick to notice.

"Minho!" The Leader shouts, jogging to get to him faster. "The shuck happened?"

"Shuckin' Griever," Minho grumbles, half putting you down and pulling your arm over his shoulder to stop you from hitting the floor, "came outta shuckin' no where- knocked her down. We ran but she got stung. She needs the Serum."

"Shit," Alby hisses. "Okay. Newt! Get Jeff and Clint! Now!" He turns back to Minho. "Are you stung?"

"Don't think so," Alby grabs your other arm, copying Minho and hooking his arm behind your back.

"Come on, we gotta move her." They both carry you towards the Medhut, with Jeff emerging at the door and adding an extra pair of helping hands as Clint arranges the Serum.

Alby, Minho and Newt watch in horror as Jeff lifts your shirt, showing the entry point of the Griever's venom. A deep purple bruise stains a chunk of your mid-drift; contortions under your skin make Minho feel ill.

Something deep inside him cracks. He can't bear to look as your injection- he knows what's about to come. He's watched it happen to far too many of his men.

"Minho-" Newt goes to stop him as the boy storms out of the hut. He looks at Alby, who simply shrugs before sighing.

"Go after him."

Newt does as he's told, following his friend, who he finds just outside the building. Minho stands with his hands in his hair, taking deep breaths, head thrown back, his back towards Newt.

It's rare for Minho to react at all to this sort of thing- nevermind the levels of stress he's showing here.

"Mate, are you-?"

"She's my responsibility," Minho's arms drop to his sides. "I should've been paying more attention- she's a newbie, she doesn't know this klunk."

"Yeah, it's klunky, man- but she'll be fine. She's got the Serum. She'll be okay."

Minho shakes his head, finally turning to face him. "Yeah, 'cause everyone is fine after the Changing, ain't they, Newt?"

Newt falls silent.

"I shuckin' said it- I told Alby she shouldn't be a Runner, and look what happened!"

"That's not Alby's fault-"

"You're right," he sighs, "it's mine."

"It's no one's fault," Alby appears in the doorway. "(Y/N) knew what she was getting into when she said she wanted to be a Runner." He huff, rubbing his face with his hands.

"But she's my responsibility-"

"You're right," Alby crosses his arms, leaning on the doorframe, "you're her Keeper, and I have Keepers to look after my men. So, if you take this burden as much as you claim to- you can keep an eye on her."

"What?" Minho and Newt respond in unison.

"You heard me," the Leader stands up straight, "when Minho isn't in the Maze, he can look after the girl. She's your Runner, Minho. If you care so much- you can act like it."

"We should give her some space," Jeff pops up behind Alby. "Clint'll keep an eye on her at the moment. I don't think anyone wants to witness what happens next."

Minho swallows, giving a sniff nod. "You want me to go back out there or-?"

"No," Alby says, "take the rest of the day off. There's no point going back out there, you won't cover much ground before the Doors close now."

Minho gives another nod, before turning and walking off into the Glade.

"You worried about him?" Alby asks Newt.

Newt shrugs. "I dunno, mate. He's... he's getting worse. I don't think he could take another Runner getting hurt."

"Is it because one of his own got stung, or is it because it was her?" Newt looks at Alby, who stares at the Keeper's back as he continues mindlessly walking.

Alby knows the Gladers better than anyone, and he's known Minho as long as he can remember. It's rare for the confident boy to show any semblance of weakness. He's watched Minho banish his friends, face Grievers head on, help him save Newt's life, and work himself to death to try and save everyone here.

And he never cracked.

Newt shrugs. "Guess we'll find out. Shuckin' cruel makin' 'im keep an eye on her, though."

"You really think he wouldn't of anyway?" Alby scoffs. "Now, he just has my permission."

And that's exactly what Minho did.

The next couple of days were hellish. After going into the Maze, Minho would map and then see to you. Jeff and Clint made sure to keep him at arms distance because when you woke up, you were like a feral animal. A feral animal in agony.

Minho really didn't know what to do.

He normally just left the Medjacks to it, but this was different.

Though, you calmed down after a bit. You're still pale and sick, but you're acting like a human again. You just mainly sleep.

"Morning, shank," Minho says as he walks into the Medhut, seeing you awake for the first time this week.

It's safe to say he's not the best in these situations. And it definitely isn't the morning- he's been out in the Maze all day.

"Morning," you grumble, struggling to sit up.

"Woah, easy, tiger," he steps forward, placing a glass of water on the nightstand and putting a hand on your shoulder.

You give him a poor attempt at a smile as he hands you a plate with Frypan's stew on it.

"Eat," he says. "You haven't eaten properly in days."

"I'm not hungry," you mumble.

"Yeah, well, as your boss, I'm telling you- so, eat." You grumble in annoyance, but do as you're told. "How you feeling?"

"Like a sack of klunk," he chuckles at this.

"Yeah, you look it."

You force a sarcastic smile. "You really know how to make a girl feel good, Boss."

He smiles. A genuine smile.

Butterflies flicker around his stomach, and his head feels weird as he looks at you. At first he thinks it's a weird form of relief- relief that he hasn't lost someone else. But this is different, he can't take his eyes off of you.

And you literally look like a corpse as you struggle to eat.

But he thinks your beautiful.

Oh, God.

When you first showed up, Minho told himself he wasn't like the other dumb thirsty boys. That he would treat you exactly the same as everyone else and he was far too busy to let teenage hormones get in the way of his job.

And for the most part, he was right.

He did treat you the same as everyone else.

He never gave you any privileges or put you down simply based on your sex. And his distaste for you being a Runner came from genuine concern and a reluctance to train someone new.

You respected him for it. Minho was hard on you, as hard as he was on any other Glader, and you appreciate it. He pushed you and was the main reason you wanted to be a Runner. Because he inspired you, and you wanted to work under someone who respected you as a person before they saw you as a woman.

So, now, with Minho looking at you like you're a deity, you're starting to realise you might admire him more than just a Keeper- and him more than just another Runner.

"How was it? The Changing?" He asks.

You shrug. "Shuckin' weird. I can remember things, but it's all blurry, and I started to forget as soon as I woke up. Most of it's gone now. Hurt like a bitch."

He scoffs. "Yeah, most people say that."

"So, when can I get back out there?" You ask between mouthfuls of food, not really caring about the question. Though, it nearly makes Minho choke on air.

"What? You're shuckin' with me, right?"

"No?" You look at him, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted. "Why's that...?" You trail off, not quite sure what you're actually about to ask.

"Well, most Runners quit after they get stung- most shanks don't wanna step foot in the Maze after that."

"I'm not most shanks, Minho- I wanna do my job. Just 'cause I'm not great right now doesn't make me incapable."

Minho looks at you, long and hard, before sighing. "Alright, I'll talk to Alby- get Clint and Jeff to give you the go ahead, and then we'll get you back in training."

"Great, thanks-"

"But you take it easy, okay? If we go back out there you're getting extended training and if you don't wanna do this anymore- tell me and we'll come back. Okay?"

You swallow before nodding. "Okay."

So, after another week of being bedridden and bored, you talk your way back into the Maze, despite Minho's concerns.

"You okay back there?" Minho calls over his shoulder.

"Yes!" You groan. "I'm fine, for shuck's sake! Quit asking!"

"Woah, slim it," Minho turns around, casually jogging backwards. "Just makin' sure."

"You've just made sure about fifty times."

"Yeah, well, gotta keep an eye on ya, eh?"

He turns back around and you groan. Though, he does slow down the checks.

But, he probably shouldn't have.

"Yo, you still good?"

No response.

"Yo, (Y/N)?" He slows down, turning to look back, stopping in his tracks when he sees you.

You're standing motionless, one hand on the wall to stabilise yourself. Your chest rises and falls in dramatic fashion, the tight running harness not helping your breathing.

"Hey, you good?" Minho's tone goes from joking to concerned in a split-second.

"I feel... sick," you mumble, the world spinning around you, your hearing stops working as dark spots fill your vision.

Your hand comes off the wall as you stumble backwards.

"Hey." You hear Minho says as your consciousness cuts out. "Hey!"

He bursts into a sprint, just managing to catch you before you hit the floor.

"Shit," he hisses, brushing your hair out of your face. "Not again. Shuck!"

So, he carries you back to the Glade.

Again.

"Bloody hell," Newt spots him as he saves you once again, "she got stung again?"

"Uh, no- I don't think so. She just passed out."

"Shit, get her to the Medhut."

Minho does as he's told as Newt runs off to get Alby.

"Shuck!" Jeff shouts as Minho scares the shit out of him by booting the hut door open. "Christ, what happened this time?"

"I-I don't know- she just passed out!"

"For shuck's sake. Clint! Give us a hand!" Clint comes stumbling through the hut, rolls of bandages in hand.

"Seriously? Again?"

They put you on the bed and assess the situation, which not much urgency- which just seriously stresses Minho out.

"Are you shanks gonna actually shuckin' do something, or what?"

"Slim it, bro." Jeff scoffs. "Your girlfriend's fine. She just went out of the Maze without her body being ready for the stress."

"I thought you said she was ready?"

"No, she told you she was ready- I didn't say klunk."

Minho's hands come to his head.

Before he suddenly kicks one of the support beams. "Shuck!"

"Woah," Clint smirks at his co-worker. "The girl's got you all worked up, eh, Minho?"

"Shut it; it's not like that," he rubs his face, and the boys just look at him. "It's not!"

They put water by your bed. Minho gets lectured by Alby. Newt finds the whole thing kind of funny. Clint and Jeff go to eat and leave Minho be.

He's been pacing the Medhut like a madman, cursing himself for being such an idiot. He keeps switching between watching you sleep and walking around because he can't stay still.

"Minho?" He freezes at the sound of your voice, looking over his shoulder at you and his body follows. "What happened?"

"You shucking idiot," he snaps. "Why did you tell me you were fine to go out there?"

"Because I was-"

"No, you shucking weren't!" He sits down in the chair next to your bed as you sit up.

"I thought I was-!"

"But you weren't, were you? You shuckin' passed out in the Maze! What would happen if it were just you, hm? If I weren't there? You could've- you would've..." He trails off, the thought making him feel sick. "Shuck." His head drops and you blink at him.

Leaning towards him, your hands touch his. "I'm okay, Minho." He looks up at you, letting his hands lock with yours. "I'm fine, see-"

He doesn't really know what came over him in that moment. Maybe it's the stress or even the relief, but he kisses you.

You freeze, not expecting that reaction.

He pulls away, panic swimming in his eyes. "Shuck," he mumbles. "Sorry-"

You kiss him again. An ache that you didn't even know you had suddenly eases as he moves his lips against yours, your hands coming to his face to get a better angle.

You pull away, and he pressed his forehead against yours. His breathing is laboured and his expression is soft.

He sighs.

"Don't shuckin' scare me like that again."

This was another fun one to write. I think the ones in the Glade where I have more freedom and less plot to follow are my favourite.

I hope you guys enjoyed :))

[mjnight06]

First Kisses are Overrated

Chapter 1/2

Chapter 1: Testing a Friendship

“Stupid Jeff,” Shoutout complained, running in the direction she thought she’d heard the criminal last.

“I don’t know about you,” Brainstorm kept pace beside her, “but I’d rather be chasing Jeff than Drex.”

The heroin rolled her eyes, “yes, but if it weren’t for Jeff, we’d all be out hunting Drex.” Shoutout slowed to a stop, the other teen matching her. “Instead, we have to waste our energy hunting down the stupidest criminal in Swellview in this ridiculous warehouse,” she gestured at the dozens of hallways and steel roller doors spanning every direction, “while the rest of our team could be out there getting hurt.”

“They’ll be fine, Meeks,” Brainstorm patted her shoulder.

“It’s Shoutout,” she pursed her lips, brushing his hand away. “How many times have we said-”

“No real names when wearing the masks, yeah yeah,” Bose rolled his eyes with a lazy smirk.

“Come on, we should start opening doors. Even Jeff isn’t stupid enough to just hang out in the hallways.”

The pair went to work opening each shutter around them, waiting for the sensor lights to activate, doing a quick survey, and moving on to the next.

“This is gonna take forever,” Bose bemoaned, as he closed his fourth container. “There has gotta be a better way to do this.”

“If you have any brilliant ideas, I’m all ears,” Mika huffed, moving on.

“Wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Mika tilted her head and listened.

A rustle.

Mika held her finger to Bose’s lips, warning him to stay quiet. No need to alert the runaway, if they had found him.

Once she was sure the boy wouldn’t speak, she let him go, nodding her head towards the still open door she had thought she’d checked a few moments prior.

The two heroes in training crept into the storage container, a large, full unit. Mika had only checked this room a few minutes prior, but she supposed Jeff could have been hiding under or behind something. The sensor light was still on, which she did find admittedly odd.

The pair was less than a few feet away from the door when the roller creaked. The teens spun, catching a flash of Jeff standing in the doorway before the steel door slammed shut, trapping them.

“Hey!” Mika cried, rushing forward and making a dive to try and pull the shutter up before the stupid criminal had the chance to lock it. “Help me lift this,” she called to Bose, who had yet to move.

The pair tugged at the bottom of the shutter but struggled to fit their hands under the steel, the doors not being made to open from the inside.

What a stupid design, Mika thought. Why would something ever be made to lock from the outside?

Her eyes widened. Oh no. The lock.

She tugged harder, scraping her hands against the concrete, but to no avail. Even if she could lift it, Jeff would have definitely secured the padlock by now. They were stuck.

“Woah, are your hands okay, Shoutout?” Bose asked, lightly touching one of Mika’s hands to inspect the damage she’d done. At least he'd had the foresight to use her hero name. Who knew if Jeff was still standing on the other side, listening, or not?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes, a little embarrassed about her now bleeding hands. She supposed she went a little overboard.

Mika rose from the floor and faced the door front on. “Stand back,” she warned the other hero.

Once Bose backed up safely behind her, Shoutout opened her mouth and screamed. Only to watch the concentrated soundwaves absorb harmlessly into the steel.

“Shit,” she cursed. A second attempt headed the same result. What kind of storage unit used pure steel for their doors? She’d been confident they would be mixed with all sorts of metals that she would be able to crumble, but pure steel?

Mika sat back with a huff. Done in by stupid Jeff of all people. She couldn’t wait to tell Ray and deal with all the unsufferable gloating.

“Should we call Captain Man?” Bose voiced her thoughts.

“I guess there’s no point delaying the inevitable mockery.” He tilted his head “Sure, honey. Give him a call.”

Brainstorm fished his phone out of his blue-tipped, pant pockets. “Oh, oh.”

“Oh, oh? What oh?” Shoutout leaned over to look at the device. “Oh, oh,” she repeated, seeing the problem in the form of the four grey bars with a line through them in the top corner.

Pulling out her own phone confirmed the same thing. They were in a dead zone. No service meant no rescue call.

Mika tried not to panic, as she opened her call log and tried anyway. It didn’t even ring.

“The call cannot be completed as dialled,” the automated voice spoke.

“Have you tried?” She asked the other teen.

“No luck. Try the Swellview police? SOS calls should still go through.”

Mika dialled the number, a creeping dread crawling up her throat. The SPD weren’t the best people to have to rely on in an emergency, she knew that first-hand. Even before things with her aunt got messy, with the revealed identities and betrayal, she’d never want to count on the woman or her colleagues when it really mattered. Hell, even before she had superpowers the police wouldn't be in her top 5 of whom to call when in danger.

“You’ve reached the Swellview Police Department, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hello? This is Shoutout of Dangerforce, I’m calling because-”

She was cut off by the man on the other line laughing. “Dangerforce wouldn’t be calling us, hun. God, kids these days and their ridiculous pranks,” he chuckled.

“No, wait! This is really-” dial tone. The SPD had just hung up on her.

“Did… they just hang up on you?” Bose asked, reading her eye-twitch. “Hold on, let me try.”

Mika took a deep breath, then a second, and a third. How was it possible that the very people that citizens were supposed to rely on for help were so useless and uncooperative? She knew that Captain Man and Kid Danger’s presence over the years had made them slack, but this was ridiculous.

“Hello, this is Brainstorm,” Bose spoke as soon as his call was picked up, “please don’t hang up! Shoutout and I are trapped in the storage unit on East 34th, and really need help!”

Mika couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation, but she assumed the other teen’s eyeroll didn’t mean anything good.

“I understand why you might not believe me, but I swear-” he stopped, listening. “Don’t you think if we could call Captain Man, we would be? No, no, no, wait!”

Mika faced the wall and screamed again, only partially to see if it would do any damage this time.

“What do we do now? Sit here and wait, and hope someone finds us?” Bose tucked his phone away.

Mika pursed her lips, “best case scenario, Captain Man realises something is up and comes to check on us,” she leant against the wall close to the door, sliding down into a sitting position with her knees up. “Worst case, we're here till the cleaners come through, whenever that might be.”

Mike figured it best to stay near the door and listen for footsteps, so they could at least call for help, should some random citizen be wandering around a storage facility at- she tapped her phone screen- ten at night.

“So, what do we do while we wait?” Bose joined her on the floor, spreading his legs out. “We could play questions! Get to know each other better!”

Mika rolled her eyes, “Bose, we’ve known each other for three years, I think we know each other well enough.”

“Well, I’m bored. So, unless you want me to sit here poking you,” he demonstrated, digging his finger into her side, forcing a giggle and for the heroin to squirm away, “you’ll play.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, pushing his hand away. “What’s your first question?”

“Why do I have to go first?”

“You’re the one who suggested we play!”

“Yeah, but maybe that’s because I want you to ask about me!”

Mika laughed again, rolling her eyes fondly. “Ask your questions, Brainstorm, before I decide I don’t want to play anymore.

“Okay, fine,” he put a finger to his chin, in the classic exaggerated thinking pose. “I know! If you could choose any superpower, besides your screaming obviously, what would you want?”

“Ooh, good one, hmm.” Mika had to be honest, she’d not put much thought into it as of recent. Obviously, when she was a kid, watching Kid Danger and Captain Man on the news, she always imagined what she would want, but no serious consideration had ever gone into it. And since she’d discovered her own power, she could never imagine having anything else.

“Come on, Meeks, it’s not a hard question,” Bose taunted her.

“Hey! I’m thinking, jeez!” She shoved his shoulder with a huff.

Mika had to admit, she was glad it was Bose she was stuck here with. Miles would have been freaking out (assuming he was unable to simply teleport them out), and Chapa would beat her fists to a pulp trying to break out and then sulk in silence when it didn’t work. At least Bose was trying to keep the situation light. He knew as well as she did, they couldn’t do anything to speed up their inevitable rescue.

“I think shapeshifting would be the most useful,” she finally concluded.

“Well?” Bose raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sure you’ve got a ten-page thesis on why it’s the best power. Let’s hear it. The short version at least.”

She hated how right he was about her. “Think about it, any situation you get yourself stuck-” she gestured around them, “-in, there’s something you could turn into that would fix it. Like if one of us could turn into a whale and take the roof off. Done.”

He nodded, “you know what, that makes sense.”

“Exactly. You know that saying about the jack of all trades?”

“You know I don’t but carry on.”

She laughed. “The popular saying is ‘Jack of all trades, master of none,’ implying that being kind of good at a lot of things is useless because you’re not amazing at any of them. In original English, the full saying was actually ‘Jake of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.’ Society cut the latter half off and a lot of people forgot what the saying originally stood for.”

Bose nodded slowly, “I think I get it. Like having a bit of strength, a bit of speed, a bit of swimming and all that is better than only having one power.”

“Exactly! Need to be strong, a t-rex isn’t as strong as someone like Thunderman but could still be crazily useful in the short term.”

“Okay, but that’s what you’d find most useful, not the one you want the most. Ignore the logic for a second, pretend you’re not a crime-fighter, what’s something you always wished you could do?”

“That,” she tapped him on the nose, “is a whole other question, and I believe it’s my turn.”

Bose chuckled, shaking his head before waving for her to go on.

“Where’s the place you want to visit most in the world?”

Bose hummed, thinking. “To be honest, I’m happy in Swellview. I like it here,” he held Mika’s eye for a second too long before clearing his throat. “Besides, mum and I have moved a few times, and been on vacation a bunch. Swellview is home now.”

“Awwe!” Mika had to resist singing the genuine moments theme. That was such a sweet answer and something that was just so very Bose.

“Okay, same question as before. Power you’d want more than anything else,” Bose repeated his previous ask.

“I don’t know. I feel like talking to animals would be really fun?” Mika tried not to give it too much thought, as he wanted. “I’ve always wondered what my dog would say to me if we could understand each other.”

“Probably, ‘Oh Mika, your friend Bose is so cool! He gives the best pats!’” Bose grumbled in a low voice.

Mika laughed, “why did you make her sound like that?”

“Wait, Sergeant Snuggles is a she?”

Mika broke down, clutching her stomach. Leave it to Bose to completely miss the obvious.

“Okay, okay, be quiet,” he grumbled, shoving her, but his eyes shone with amusement. “Next question, come on.”

The game continued, the pair going back and forth on whatever random topics came to mind, with (usually Mike) going off on tangents when they were passionate about a particular subject.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but are too scared to try?” She didn’t know where the question came from, but now she wanted to know.

Bose always seemed so carefree, never really thinking too hard about whatever was in front of him, just rushing in headlong. He was less thick-headed than Chapa, but still far less cautious than herself or her brother, so she couldn’t help but wonder what actually scared him.

Bose blinked, clearly not expecting the deeper question. Everything asked so far had been fairly light.

“I dunno,” his eyes darted around the room.

Mika tilted her head, waving her hand in encouragement for him to continue.

“I guess, stand up to my stepdad?” He eventually muttered, picking at his shoelace.

Mika’s eyes softened. She knew what a bad relationship her friend had with the Vice-Mayor, with the older man making it clear how much he detested him. Mika still would likely never forgive him for insulting Bose to his face (well, Brainstorm’s face, but still. Bose had to hear it), back when Danger Force was hired to protect him from his own selfish schemes.

“I get that. Standing up to authority is really hard,” Mika sympathised, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Things are still weird with Aunt Didi. I just can’t look at her anymore without thinking about how she betrayed me. Us.”

Bose nodded. “Yeah. My mum came around after we saved her and the other mums, but she still hasn’t told my stepdad.”

Mika blinked. That was news to her, she had no idea her friend was still having to hide half of who he was at home. No wonder he spent so much time at her house or in the man’s nest.

“I’m sorry, that must be hard,” she rubbed his arm again.

She felt the moment his walls went back up, as he lightly shrugged her off. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Okay, next question. What’s the worst prank you’ve ever pulled.”

Mika let him get away with the abrupt change in both topic and tone. Understanding that he didn’t want to get into his daddy issues while stuck in a room with no escape. Speaking of, she tapped her phone screen. They’d already been in here for almost two hours now.

A few more rounds passed of light and breezy questions, before, “why haven’t you asked any guys at school out, yet?”

Mika started. That was the last thing she’d expected Bose of all people to be asking her about. He always seemed so put off by the talk about her romantic life. Chapa would ask questions and grill her, while Bose and Miles would roll their eyes and tune the two out.

“You mean Micah? Or Jordan? Or Tyler? Or-”

“Yeah, yeah, whoever,” he cut her off with an eyeroll. “Whichever boy of the week you’re obsessed with. You’ve never asked any of them out.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an observation, she noticed.

Mika pursed her lips, unsure of exactly how vulnerable she wanted to be here. Talking to Chapa was easy. She judged Mika sometimes sure, but when it came down to it, the other girl was just as clueless as she was. Bose, meanwhile, had been on over a thousand dates last year. He had way more experience than her in matters of the heart.

“I don’t know,” she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “It just always doesn’t feel right. I don’t have much… experience with this stuff.”

Bose was quiet for a minute, just observing her. “Have you ever been on a date before?”

Mika buried her head in her knees and groaned. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

“I’m not making fun of you, I swear!” She heard him shift, likely raising his hands in defence.

“I’m just not comfortable talking to guys like that.”

Bose barely heard the muffled words past her knees, as she kept her face buried. “You talk to me all the time, what’s different?”

Mika thought about it. Bose was always different. She knew he’d never see her in a romantic light, so she wasn’t worried about looking cool or impressing him. He’d seen her in some of her most embarrassing and uncool moments.

“It just is. I don’t have to impress you.”

“Meeks, you’re awesome. You’d impress anyone just by being you.”

Mika turned her head to the side. He was already looking at her. His eyes were intense, like he truly believed what he was saying, and was trying to convince her of her own worth.

“I just feel like-” she stopped, trying to find the words to articulate what she wanted to say. “There’s just so much pressure about first romances, the first date, the perfect first kiss. Like the movies build it up to this huge thing. I wish I could just skip all that, completely.”

Bose bobbled his head in agreement. “I get what you mean. By the pressure and all that. You just gotta get out of your own head and go for it.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Mika asked before she could stop herself.

She knew that the one thousand dates didn’t wind up going anywhere, what with it being so many short interactions, with his alter-ego no-less, but it was clear that Bose had already had his first real relationship. Whether it was before she met him, or he just didn’t talk about it, she didn’t know.

“Vivian Helen, in the seventh grade,” he rattled off immediately.

So, two years ago, Mika did the math in her head. The early days of Danger Force.

She couldn’t imagine trying to juggle a relationship on top of getting superpowers and joining a team of people he barely knew. Absently, she wondered if that was why they broke up, assuming they ever officially dated.

“Was it serious?” She couldn’t help but want to know. It was kind of nice to have someone else to talk about all this stuff to.

“I mean, as serious as it can be when you’re twelve,” he laughed, pushing his hair back, a nervous habit. “I don’t think either of us ever thought we’d get married or anything. I guess that took a lot of the pressure off.”

Mika supposed that made sense. She just didn’t understand how someone could see someone they found attractive and just waltz up to them, with no prepping and no practice.

“If you want,” she looked back at Bose as he spoke, “we could… I mean I could help you… After all, we’ve already pretended…” He trailed off over and over, clearly struggling with the words.

Mika tilted her head to the side, giving him a quizzical look. Then she got it. Her eyes widened; her back snapping taught. Was he offering what she thought he was offering?

“Bose, what are you saying?” She must have been misreading things. Surely. There was no way he was actually saying-

“We could kiss.”

That.

“For like practice or something!” He rushed out, shifting uncomfortably, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. “You know, no pressure, no commitment...” he trailed off. “Never mind, it was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

“Hey, woah, it’s okay!” She tried to reassure him. “That wasn’t a no. I guess I’m just… thinking.” She also couldn’t bear if this made things awkward between them.

As it was, she felt bad about the whole pretend kissing thing to protect their identity (not that it worked). Her mum still wouldn’t let Mika close the door when Bose came over to watch Dog Bachelor every Sunday, even after she’d explained the lie to her.

She'd always make it so awkward with her glares and wild gestures, bursting into the room at random intervals, as if trying to “catch” them doing supposed they weren't supposed to be doing. Ha. As if that'd ever happen.

“What if it makes things weird between us?” She eventually voiced her biggest concern. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she let this happen, and it ruined their bond.

Her friendship with Bose had always been different, deeper, than with the other members of their team. Miles was her brother, but they were just so different. And Chapa was her confidant, but it still wasn't the same. Bose was her support system. She went to him for almost everything. She relied on him, told him her secrets. He was always there. She couldn't lose that. Not over something as silly as a kiss.

Bose shrugged, “it’s not like we’re going anywhere. Things can’t possibly get weird if we’re stuck together.”

Mika’s eyes darted around the room, unsure of where to look. Eye contact felt weird. “You mean like here? Right now?”

She wasn’t sure how much she agreed with his sentiment. Wouldn’t it just mean trapping them in the awkwardness if it did get weird? Taking away any chance at escape? Although, she supposed they wouldn't be able to run away, and would have to talk about it, if it did get weird.

Mika felt trapped. Part of her wanted to shrug it off, say something witty and pretend the conversation had never happened, but she had a feeling that would leave them in just as awkward of a spot- if not more so- than if they went through with it.

“Okay.”

Bose’s head shot up, “okay?”

“Okay. Let's do it,” she took a breath. “Let's kiss.”

“Okay, cool.”

For both of their sakes, she was going to pretend she didn't hear his voice crack.

Neither teen moved, clearly unsure of how to proceed, for a few thick moments. Eventually, Bose swallowed, shuffling to face her fully.

“We don't have to do this, you know?” His eyes darted between hers and the floor, as he struggled to hold eye contact.

“I want to,” her response was quick. Too quick. Mika felt her face heat up. “I mean, I want to get it over with,” she amended, which sounded bad for a different reason. “Not that this is like a chore, just in the sense that-”

Bose let out a breathy laugh, “it's cool, Meeks. I get it.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Mika turned her shoulders and leant forward. “Well?”

“Well?”

She rolled her eyes, “you're the experienced one here. Isn't that the whole point of this?”

“Oh. Right,” Bose coughed.

“Well?”

“Right,” Bose shifted forward further.

Mika spoke a big game, trying to hide how nervous she really was, especially now that she could feel his breath on her face.

Bose’s eyes darted between hers and her lips, which made her even more nervous as he leant forward. Only a few more inches.

Mika let herself get caught up in the moment. It was finally happening. Her first real kiss… and it was with Bose of all people.

She didn't want to admit how that seemed to make the moment even more special. She'd unpack that later. Or never. Never worked too.

He was taking too long, she decided.

Just as she leant in the last few centimetres, the wall next to them produced an odd noise, before crumbling.

The two startled teens leapt away from both each other and the now gaping hole in the wall they'd just been leaning against. And faced their boss.

“There you kids are! How long does it take to track down Jeff?” The adult man huffed, looking around the room. “Where is he anyway?”

Mike blinked, trying to clear her head. “Uh, he’s not here,” she admittedly lamely. “He kind of got away.”

“WHAT?”

“It's not our fault!” She jumped on the defence immediately, happy to take the distraction from what almost just happened. And sadly, didn't happen. “He locked us in when we came to investigate!” She stubbornly refused to look at her still-silent teammate.

“Locked you in? What do you mean he locked you in? How do you let the stupidest criminal in Swellview lock you anywhere?”

Mika's face burned. What a horrible end to a horrible night.

Well, a mostly horrible night.

She finally peaked at Bose from the corner of her eye.

He was already looking at her.

“ANYWAY,” she burst, making both guys jump, “where’s the rest of the team? How did fighting Drex go?”

Captain Man rolled his eyes, reading right through the misdirect, but letting her get away with it. “We'll debrief on both missions,” he paused to glare at the two teens, “tomorrow morning. AWOL and Volt are both in bed. Like you kids should be. It's after three in the morning, I've been looking for you guys for hours.”

Mika blinked. Three am? That wasn't possible. She'd just checked the time like twenty minutes ago, and it had only been midnight. She pulled out her phone, the light blinking at her. 3:16am. they'd spent over 5 hours locked in this room together.

“How did you find us?” She jumped when Bose finally spoke, looking away when he raised an eyebrow at her jumpiness.

“Don't worry about that,” Captain Man brushed it off.

Mika looked past him, at the fresh hole in the wall. And the next one. And the next one. Instead of opening doors and searching, their boss had apparently decided it was a better idea to break a hole into every room in the corridor. And who knew how many corridors he’d gone through before he got to theirs? Oh, god. They were going to owe the mayor’s office so many apology letters… which she would almost definitely have to write.

“Let’s just get you two back home.”

The teens didn't say anything or look at each other for the whole trip.

If Captain Man noticed, past his humming of the Drake and Josh theme song, he didn't comment.

[beebubb]

William grossman: becoming a pasta

(also i mention my OC amari here but they're just friends and roommates here. No romantic things)(also this might be kinda long and I mention some stuff about my creepypasta AU so if you don't wanna be confused you can check it out!)

Like I mentioned in an old post, will and LJ went on a lot of self discovery adventures for Will.

It was always will's dream to become a popular killer like Jeff but sense he couldn't actually bring himself to kill someone, he would doubt himself a lot and would sometimes just be so upset or angry at himself

Will: maybe coming to the underworld was a mistake.. I shouldn't have come here...

LJ: come on bud! There's gotta be something here you're good at!

They had literally tried many things.

Will worked for a surgeon for literally a day before he got fired. He couldn't bring himself to dissect someone. Yes he had seen dead bodies before out on the street but he couldn't bring himself to be the one to actually commit to doing it

He also tried to be a bounty hunter/hitman but, ended up quitting immediately after he was told to kill a family

He even worked at a black market that was hiring someone to just care for the oragans they sold. It was going pretty well but, lets say it was will's first time seeing an actual beating human heart

Will: what else could I be good at?!? Everything here involves killing! And I can't even kill someone if it depended on my damn life...

LJ: you could still try for your dream of being a slender proxy!

Will: but being a proxy involves killing! Maybe I should just go back to the human world... I don't even have my mark! I didn't get a permanent smile like Jeff or red bleeding eyes like ben!

Amari: I don't have any cool marks either!

Will: but atleast you got skulls shapes on your eyes! I didn't get anything! Maybe I just wasn't meant to be here...

Amari hated seeing will so upset. She knew his dream was to work for slenderman, and obviously, she wanted him to achieve it. She got lucky and worked for him from time to time, so she was sure she could talk to slender and see if will had a chance.

How he met slenderman

Amari went to see her boss a few days later. AKA slenderman. She explained to him his situation and, he actually wanted to meet him!

Slenderman isn't judgemental like many in the underworld think he is. He can see potential in someone even at their lowest.

She obviously went to the apartment to tell will the good news

Amari: will! You aren't going to believe this but i talked to slenderman about you and....he wants to see you!

Will: what?!? Are you serious?!

Amari: yep!

Will: holy shit!! Let me take a quick shower then!

Will took a shower and once he was ready he followed amari to the slender mansion.

Once they got there, masky did the regular check for weapons on him (it's normal for them to check new people that go into slenderman's meeting room just to make sure of any weapons or suspicious items)

Will was calm but was holding in his inner fanboy.

"I can't believe I'm seeing slender's most valuable proxy!!! Holy shit!!!"

LJ wasn't all that excited sense he already knew pretty much every pasta and knew what it was like living in the mansion/manor.

LJ: "what a hassle...."

LJ wasn't really aware of all the dangers the proxies tried to prevent. He just saw it as a way to show off their wealth and to think they were better than others

Once they were clear, masky took them to the meeting room

Even if will wasn't sure if he could get a chance working with slenderman, there was one thing he was definetly certain of.

Get their autographs

No way he was gonna waste his visit to the slender mansion and NOT get their autographs.

Masky: you may go inside

Will: um....could i get your autograph please?

Masky: oh, yes

Will: yes!! *takes out a scrapbook he made* here!

Masky: *signs in* there

Will: thank you so much!!!

LJ: come on! You look like a dork!

Will: ok ok! And I'm not gonna waste my visit and not get their autographs *goes into the meeting room*

Once they got in they were immediately greeted by slenderman

"Glad you came here william, please, take a seat"

William was so excited by seeing slenderman in person but was also terrified about what he would think of him.

Will became really shy and nervous while talking

Slenderman: so i heard you were interested in working with me later on but you had a few doubts on your own abilities, could you tell me more?

Will: i um....*fidgeting with his fingers*

LJ: he wants to be a proxy but he has trouble actually killing someone. So we wanna know his chances of actually becoming one

Slenderman: ah I see, well I'll have to look at some other assets, do you have any school documents?

Will: *nods and takes out a folder with his school papers*

These kind of meetings were actually pretty common so slenderman already knew what to look for in school documents

Will's grades weren't that good tbh

He had many subjects he struggled with. On his report cards, pretty much every subject had D's and C's, and the occasional F's. Only is P. E he had a B.

Slenderman usually looked for atleast a B average

Though the only straight A's that will got, were in chemistry

Slenderman: I see you're proficient in chemistry, how come that's the only subject you get A's in?

Will: well um.... It's pretty much the only subject that I like....

Slenderman: may I ask what your under realm mark you for when you arrived here?

Will: i didn't get anything...

Slender seemed kinda surprised at his answer.

He opened up a locked drawer on his desk and took out a heavy book and went through the pages and stopped at one with a picture of a hand with lines

Slenderman: may I see your hand?

Will: uh... Sure? *shows him his hand*

Slenderman seemed really intrigued with will's hand.

LJ and Amari were extremely confused.

Amari knew pretty much the process of these type of meetings but when she was applying as an apprentice for slenderman, slender didn't ask to see her hand like he did with will

Once slender was done checking will's hand, he looked through more of his records

LJ: um.... So what do you think? He has a bit of potential right?

Slenderman seemed lost in though for a second but replied

"William, have you ever took any.... Magic classes or considered taking one?"

The three of them were surprised.

Like, magic? They knew that magic existed in the underworld but why would he think will would Want to study it?

Magic is a really complicated subject and depending on what element you were granted or want to control, it takes a lot of discipline and training and it is rarely recommended to the top students at the institution sense it was pretty much college level

LJ: why do you ask that?

Will: yeah I mean... I'm barely passing and I don't know if my grades are even good enough for me to graduate this year.

Slenderman: well i don't know how you didn't see this before but, look

Slenderman turned the book to their direction

LJ and amari were shocked

LJ: will you?!?

Will: *looking at the book and at his hand* wait....holy shi-i mean oh my god! I have powers?!

Slenderman: i looked through your records and i see you're part of the grossman family.

LJ: uh yeah he had a great grandpa but how does that explain this? He never had any sort of contact with magic

Slenderman: maybe not him exactly but, she did

Slenderman pulled out a picture from isaac's record folder (all demons and rulers from hell and the under realm have a record of their citizens) and pulled out the picture of a woman

Slenderman: she's ida grossman. Isaac grossman's great grandmother. She was killed for practising witchcraft. It would explain why will was granted magic here in the under realm.

LJ: sense he has this power, how come i never saw it before? I've been with him ever sense he was born!

Slenderman: well his power is still undeveloped sense he never had any proper training or took any classes. He has the mark on his hand but if he wants to actually use his abilities, he'll need to start practicing.

LJ now understood, and was happy for will

LJ: how can he start?

Slenderman: well,i have a proxy named sherry that knows about this, she could be will's tutor. Also I have been really interested in getting an apprentice with magical abilities but it has been difficult finding one, but if will wants to work with me then..

Slenderman took out an apprentice application

Slenderman: I could take him in as my personal sorcerer

LJ: well, what do ya say bud? Do you wan-

Will: yes!!!!!

Will didn't even think twice on his answer. Of course he wanted to work as slenderman's apprentice in magic.

He felt like his life had literally no direction but now everything was changing. He felt more confident than ever

LJ: do these classes have a price or somethin'?

Slenderman: it's usually 50 per class in a normal school but it depends if my proxy wants to charge for them or not sense she teaches them individually.

Will: oh....

Amari: ah don't worry i can pay for them!

Will: you don't gotta do that!

Amari: it's fine! You're my friend, we should help each other out

Slenderman: so I'm guessing that it's settled then?

Will: yeah!

Slenderman: alright then, I'll just need a signature of your parent or guardian on the application

LJ gave his signature

Slenderman: thank you. Well you're ready to go. All you need to do now is finish your last month at the institution and once you're done, I'll have amari bring you here again to start your training.

Will: yes! Thank you! Um one more thing, could I get your autograph sir?

Slenderman: oh yes of course!

Once slenderman signed his notebook they thanked him and were free to go

Who knew that will was more special than many thought he was.

I hope you guys liked this! I'll be making more parts!

Also i know will wasn't really developed in the Creeps comic so I kinda let myself create his character more.

Also this was inspired by a headcanon I saw where will was granted powers so I wanted to include that into his character.

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

hey, this one's gonna be long, so grab a chair and a snack.

first of all i wanna say thanks for the poetry recommendations! (I'll keep the anti-love poems and postcard from the heartbreak hotel in my back pocket, just in case...) always glad to expand my to-read list! :))

moving on: to be honest, no, i haven't read a lot of eastern poetry - mostly due to my past conviction of "reading translations sucks". but i've read translations of some arabic poems recently and there's sort of a melancholy that sneaks up with it? see, my grandfather on my dad's side is iraqi, but my dad never taught me arabic, so i'm always partly grieving a hypothetical what-could've-been.

anyway, i've checked out some stuff by tagore (& darwish)!

on tagore: i read "gitanjali 35" & loved the line "Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake." feels like a dam bursting open. i rly enjoyed "crossing 16" and "on the seashore" too! idk, but it feels like the last line in tagore's poems is the first breath you take after you finish running a mile? does that make sense?

on darwish: i especially liked passport & he is quiet and so am i! darwish seems like a very storyteller-ish kinda poet? and i like the rhythm of his writing; it's very.... alive? like if i stare at it too long it'll blink.

also, i gotta agree with you on ginsberg! i love, love, love vivid poetry and i used to really want to study film - because writing seemed (to me at least) like it lacked the visual aspect?

to answer your question about siken: you are jeff definitely hits hard, but i think planet of love might be my favorite. it's hard to pick just one, but something about the director/actor dynamic really speaks to me. the certainty of "you know your lines" & "you've memorized it" juxtaposed with the general sense of uncertainty throughout the poem feels very real? its choppy, the sentences are short, "there's a gun in your hand. it feels hot. it feels oily." there's a gun in your hand and each sentence is a bullet wound. and the way it ends! it builds and builds and builds suspense but there's no resolution, it's just tense. it asks whats next? and never answers the question. it just hits the brakes - suddenly you're rigid and frozen in time. it's being trapped in a fraction of a second and "everyone's watching, everyone's curious, everyone's holding their breath." and i didn't always like it, but somewhere along the line i started having panic attacks and it REALLY grew on me lmao

this ask is getting long, so i'm gonna end it here, but thanks again!

P.S.: would you maybe be up for giving me a poetry prompt? i could send you the poem in another ask. (might be fun)

-cat

Cat! :)

First of all, I want to complement your style of describing things. It's so poetic. Tagore like "the first breath you take after you finish running a mile" and Darwish like "very storyteller-ish kinda poet and rhythm of his writing; it's very.... alive". AGHHH, I squealed reading those lines, like what???? That is so fucking raw (Sorry for cursing, but ahhhh). You are poet in the way you just like talk about things.

Also, quick side note, I'm glad that the poems are in your back pocket. Hope you never have to turn to them, due to their nature, but if you ever do, I hope they help.

I'm glad you like Darwish and Tagore. "My father led my country awake" always punches me in the gut. It's so strong and emotive. I sympathise with you about the language barrier. I suck at speaking languages other than English, but I'm not a native english speaker. So even I want to enjoy poetry in languages than English, I have to read the translations which puts a damper on it. But, God bless translations, I love the way you described it in your last post that makes them seem so pure and the fact that someone weighted all these words to convey a human emotion across a pages and across ages is just.. mwah.

Ginsberg is my shit. (Again sorry!) The openings lines of Howl hit my Christian Iconography Yearning, like the vivid imagery..? "angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night," I vibe with that feeling of wanting to reach divinity and holiness with your writing. The raw, exposed nerve of that writing.

And before like I got heavy into poetry, I also felt the same way about how 2d writing can be. But, then you have things that help transcend the page like : slam poetry or hybrid forms which combine writing with more dynamism like choreopoetry. But even within itself, poetry transcends the page, by drawing out emotion and just speaking to you. This was a piece I read a while ago that has performances online and is very acclaimed : "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf." (Although it deals with very heavy topics though so heavy tw)

And I read Planet of Love! The abrupt way it ends just hits you so strongly and absolutely leaves you frozen. Have you read "Wishbone" or "A Primer for Small Weird Loves"? Both hit very strongly as well.

And I'd absolutely love to give you a prompt: "Saint Valentines". Does that work?

[And don't worry about long asks, they are funny to read through and answer :)))) ]

Look forward to hearing from you and reading the poem! Prompt poetry is pretty fun!

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 27

It only takes a day or two for Jordan to get over what happened. It’s not even a week later, all of them sat around a table on the roof of Hoax, that Jeff tries to get him talking about it. It goes the same as just about every time Curly’s tried to do the same thing:

“You’re weirdly chill about the whole thing,” he’s saying now.

Jordan shrugs. “It’s done.”

“Like… Weirdly chill,” Dean seconds, but he’s shrugged off too.

Jeff huffs, dissatisfied. “It’s been less than a week and you’re back at work, are you dumb?”

Nothing.

“I can see the thing weeping from here.”

“Jeff,” Curly groans, but Jordan doesn’t even react, just begins to stand. “That’s fucking minging.”

“Break’s up,” Jordan grunts and, just like that, he grabs his beer and leaves the scene; back towards the bar where he’s scheduled to keep pouring drinks ‘til two.

It started with him laughing it off. Curls had driven him home, decided to stay a night or two in case he bled out or plotted to kill the bloke who stabbed him or summet equally stupid. Jordan had said “you’re mothering me,” as Curly ran about making coffee and moving pillows and replacing gauze. “I ain’t dying, Curls. Give it a fuckin’ rest,” he’d told him, and laughed as he said it. He’d winced right after, loud enough for Curly to hear it with his back to him (still working on that coffee) even after he tried to cover it with a sniff and a cough. “We’ve got bigger shit to worry about, like if I should cover it with a tattoo of your face, or Joe Strummer’s.”

Curls had snorted, shaking his head. “You aren’t funny,” he’d said. “Sit down, will you? And stop taking before you hurt yourself.”

“Nobody’s ever told me I talk too much before,” Jordan mused.

“I’m serious, Jordan. Stop acting like you’ve scraped your bloody knee and sit down.”

“Stop acting like I’m a fucking bitch,” Jordan has snapped, shutting him up.

“How’s he been?” Dean’s whispering, like Jordan could somehow hear them from all the way over there. He leans over the table, engaged, and it gives Curly a better view of the man in question, working way over Dean’s shoulder. “Normal?”

“Arsey,” Curls tells him in a grunt. “Just wanted to laugh it off at first, then he started playing it down. Now he’s always in a mood and rips my head off every time I mention it. I just feel so fucking guilty, and I know I should. The bloke was trying to buy from me, but. God, I wish he’d make it a bit easier on me.”

Jeff shrugs to Curly’s right and leans over the small circular table in a similar way to Dean. “He’s not mad at you. Probably embarrassed,” he suggests. “You know what he’s like: stubborn as fuck. Probably plotting how to fuck the guy up.”

“That’s not funny,” Dean scolds.

“I’m not kidding.” The man lifts his drink to take a short sip. “He’s as prideful as he is angry, you’ve seen it yourself.”

This has Curly’s attention returning from Jordan at the bar, to Jeff at the table. “What do you mean?”

“Well done,” Dean huffs. “Get him freaked out about one more thing, why don’t you, Jeff?”

Truthfully, he could have guessed that Jordan has a taste for revenge. He remembers how Jordan had told him in a round-about way that some of his past rivals were still in the picture. Curly has never dared ask any more about it. All he knows is that Jordan’s a product of his past and he’s not the type to let shit slide because of it. Just a week ago they spotted Jules in the bottom bar and Curly had to talk J down for forty minutes before they could get on with their night – and that only worked out because Jules had left by then. All that over a slur – go knows how far he’d go to get back at the asshole that sent him to the ER.

“I know he has history,” Curly confirms. “He told me about the gang shit-" Sort of. “-but he left it all in New York. Isn’t that proof that he knows how to leave shit in the past? That was ages ago – before you pair even knew him.” His friends exchange a look. “What?”

“You’ve only seen his best side, buddy,” Dean says.

“I’ve seen him stab a bloke.”

“Protecting you,” Jeff corrects. “He’s done the same thing for less.”

He gets a hard shove from Dean then. “Alright, that’s enough, Jeff,” he says with a glance towards Curly. “Ignore him. J’s not half as pissy as he used to be. He’s probably just trying to move on.”

Curly’s scowling though, looking between the pair as he asks, “what do you mean ‘same for less?’ In Brockton, you mean?” Maybe it was naive to think his boyfriend stabbing a bloke was a one-off.

Just as Dean exclaims, “no!” Jeff insists, “Of course,” before he adds, “stop sheltering him, Dean, he’s not a kid and he’s fuckin’ dating the guy,” with a roll of his eyes before he turns slightly to give Curly his full focus.

Dean seems to back down, slouching back in his chair and Jeff continues; “Listen, I don’t need to tell you that Jord’s a damn fucking good guy. He’s one of my best friends and if I thought there was a secret of his worth keeping, I’d do it – even from you. But it’s no secret that he acts on anger. He was protecting you when he hurt that guy and you know he’d do it again to any motherfucker that laid a bad hand on you.” He doesn’t continue until Curly nods and he’s confident that he’s being understood. “-But he was also settling a score. They didn’t come out of nowhere. There’s this guy--”

“Nick,” Curly recalls. Tell Nick that if I see any of you again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. He remembers how Jordan’s face had changed into something terrifying when he spat that out. How he wiped the knife clean on his pants like it was nothing. “I knew that already.”

“Did you know he’s dead?”

He forgets to respond. Curly’s stomach suddenly feels heavy; his head light, as the implications in Dean’s question ring clear. He didn’t know that. He attempts to remain passive, leaning back into his seat again and reaching with a shaky hand for his drink. Curly takes a long sip whilst he waits for Jeff to go on, but he doesn’t. He’s glancing at Dean now like he’s only just realising that maybe it wasn’t his place after all.

“Well done,” Dean says again, quieter than he had last time. “I asked him about it, Curly,” he tells him, now that their friend’s gone quiet. Jeff doesn’t look remorseful – he looks satisfied if anything, as he sits back and watches Dean speak. “He damn near ripped my head off. It killed him to hear that we thought even for a second that he could kill somebody. I believe him.”

“Dead since when?” He forgets to sound passive this time.

Dean shrugs. “Since... Brandon was here – that’s when he told us, anyway.”

“Look,” Jeff cuts in. “I’m not saying it was him. I’m just saying that he knew how and when it happened.”

“Fucking hell, Jeff, you’re not very bloody convincing,” Curly points.

“Fucking right he isn’t,” Dean confirms. “Curly, listen. Jordan knows a lot of people. That’s all. He doesn’t know how to let shit go. He gets the wrong people involved with his shit. You think we’d have sat there with him just now, thinking he’d m—” he drops to a hissed whisper. “—Thinking he’d murdered someone? We’re fucking clean. You know we’re not like that. And I know you know he isn’t either.”

“All I was tryna say is that he acts before he thinks,” Dean reason. “He’s got beef with a dead guy in a gang – do you get that? That shit follows you.”

“Bit of feedback mate,” Curly begins, hissing back. “Maybe next time, open with summet like ‘Jordan’s never killed anyone but..’ yeah? Put me at ease a bit.”

By this point, all three of them are leant in, talking snappily – not that any of them notice until Jordan’s voice is pulling them out of the tight triangle.

“Fuck’s up with you guys?”

They all jump back, reaching for their drinks at the same time as they mumble “nothing” and “nowt” like it isn’t too late to act casual. His neck feels hot, worked up from the conversation and anxious from having been caught.

“… Right,” Jordan nods slowly, rounding the table to stand at Curly’s side, where he leans a hand on the back of his chair. “These assholes grillin’ you?”

Curly scoffs, neck arched to look up towards the man. “You’ve got no idea,” he tells him, trying his best to stay loose as he smiles up at the man.

J mustn’t notice, because he gives a small smile in return. “Well you’re in luck; I’m here to save you.” Curly frowns. “Apparently I’ve gotta go home,” he then tells him, rolling his eyes, and Curly’s on his feet so quick that the blood heating his neck shoots right to his brain.

“Why, what happened?” his eyes dart to the bandage on the side of J’s neck, and it’s funny how quickly your mind can just drift from your boyfriend’s possible murderous past when his own welfare is in question. It looks clean though, despite Jeff’s earlier joke.

“Nothing.” Jordan huffs, taking a second to glance between the other two men as he confirms, “I’m fucking fine. We’re quiet. We have four managers in. They don’t need me.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Jeff calls to a woman clearing glasses off the table beside their own. “Is he ‘fine’ or is he talkin’ shit?”

“He’s talking shit,” she responds without a second thought, then points towards Curly. “Get the boy home,” she demands.

Curly gives Jordan a look, raising a brow as the man continues to look irritated. “I’m knackered anyway,” he lies. “And these pair are doing my head in. Let’s go.”

“Asshole,” Dean mutters, but Curly’s already ushering Jordan away from the table.

***

“Are you alright?”

Curly must have been doing a good job of faking sleep because Jordan jolts a little when he speaks, eyes leaving the ceiling. He’s been like that since they got into bed; just lying there on his back, breathing heavily as he stares up at the ceiling. Curly wonders what’s got his breath so erratic and his brows furrowing like he’s having a row in his head.

The man opens his mouth to respond, but Curly cuts him off before he can. “I know you are,” he amends. “I know you don’t need me to take care of you, but. Are you alright?” He reaches out to touch the man’s face, fingers sliding over his cheek when Jordan finally turns his head to look at him.

“You always seem so… Angry,” he explains, his voice dropping to a whisper as he asks, “are you angry?”

Jordan takes a deep breath before he rolls onto his side, a hand landing on Curly’s waist to pull him a little closer. Curly ends up on the edge of his pillow, but he doesn’t mind. Jordan just nods.

“At me?” Curly doesn’t mean to sound so woe. He almost hopes he says yes – better to be angry at Curly than the guy who hurt him, if his conversation with Jeff and Dean is anything to go by. “Because he thought I was dealing?” He’s almost coaxing.

“No,” Jordan mumbles. “Not you.”

He slides in a little closer, from the edge of his pillow to the edge of Jordan’s, who tickles his back with the tips of his fingers beneath the covers. It’s the most tender moment they’ve had in a week. “At that bloke? Rory?”

The man shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.” His brows furrow like they had been as he stared up at the ceiling. “I keep replaying it in my head. I get so—” He shrugs again, his eyes cast somewhere over Curly’s shoulder, distracted by the thought.

“Tell me,” he whispers – wants to say help me understand, but he’s not sure Jordan even understands it himself.

“It was a cheap shot,” he says. “A dumb fight at a house party. He didn’t have to…” He shakes his head as he trails off.

It feels harsh, but Curly thinks maybe he might put things into perspective by saying, “isn’t it just the same as when you did it? To that guy in the street?” He gets no response. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” Jordan says quickly, the volume of his voice rising just a little with the speed of his reply. “That was different.”

“Because of Nick?” He hadn’t planned to bring him up – really, and when Jordan’s eyes return to him, it’s Curly’s turn to look off into the darkness beyond the bed. “Because of revenge?”

Jordan goes quiet again and rolls back onto his back where his breaths pick up again, just slightly. Curly’s not sure he’d have even noticed if he wasn’t listening out for it.

“I’m not trying to quiz you,” he tells him honestly, his knuckles sliding over the man’s jaw in an attempt to soothe him. “I want to understand.”

“So do I,” Jordan agrees, then goes back to gritting his teeth at the ceiling.

“Don’t try to get back at Rory.” The words tumble right out. “Please. He’s not worth it.”

Slowly, Jordan reaches up and takes Curly’s wrist in his hand. He brings his hand a little further up, to his lips where Curly thinks he will kiss him, but he instead just holds his hand there against his mouth, before he guides it away from him completely. Jordan drags his own palms over his face then, taking two long, deep before he crosses his arms over his stomach and asks point-blank, “when did you find out about Nick?”

He hadn’t realised that his request about Rory would hold such a clear connection to Nick’s death, but the fact that it quite clearly does for Jordan has his chest tightening up and his stomach hollowing right out. 

He’s done the same thing for less.

“Tonight.” There’s no sense in lying to him. In fact, the second he responds, Curly feels lighter. He hadn’t realised how wrong it felt to have made so many assumptions about his own boyfriend behind his back.

“Dean?” Jordan asks, and Curly nods. “I didn’t kill him.”

“I know,” he tells him, taking himself off-guard because, although he means it, Curly’s not sure even he realised it until just then. “I know you didn’t.”

“Th—” Jordan’s breath hitches. It’s a sight Curly’s never seen before – imagined, even – Jordan bringing a hand back up to his face to press his hand to his mouth.

“J.” He feels pathetic as he searches for something to say, because Jordan’s—He’s crying, pulling in jagged breaths beneath his palm. Curly pushes himself up, reaches out to pull the man’s hand from his face. Jordan lets him but is following his lead and sitting up, hanging his head between his shoulders before Curly can try to catch his eye. “It’s alright, whatever it—"

“They weren’t meant to fucking kill him,” he says between heaving breaths. “F-fuck, they—Nobody—” Jordan’s holding his head in his hands, shoulders shaking but he must be holding the sobs back because he barely makes a noise. Curly doesn’t either as he tries to make sense of his words – or rather find an explanation that isn’t Jordan knowing about it all.

The tendons in the man’s neck are straining and Curly dreads to think about the state of the other side, under the bandage, or the pain it must be causing him.

“Okay.” He nods as he slides a hand up to the back of his neck and into his hair. “Do you know who it was?” It’s so fucking stupid to ask – knowing that kind of information is dangerous, Curly knows that, but, as he looks at Jordan like this, doubled over and gasping for breath as he cries into his hands, it’s hard to believe there’s no explanation that excuses his involvement and makes it all make sense. He’s left in suspense though, feeling more and more desperate as he cards his fingers through the man’s hair and waits for him to catch his breath and calm himself.

“Some guys from New York,” Jordan finally says. “I paid them to… Beat him up a little. Get him off my back – the guy’s been on me since I left the city. Seven fucking years, Curly. And if I— Boyd would have killed me that night, I swear he would have. You too.”

Curly can only assume Boyd’s the guy who got stabbed – remembers what Dean had said about how Jordan was protecting him that night, but he was also settling a score. Jordan’s words are suddenly so rushed that Curly’s taking guesses at the gaps he leaves – like exactly who Boyd even is. A connection to Nick, he’d guess.

“Why?” He feels so daft and naive by asking it, but, “what’s worth going after you for that long? What is it that’s so bad but could be fixed by killing you?”

Jordan scoffs. “Nick—” He pauses to straighten up, wiping his hands over his face and glancing briefly at Curly before he looks down at his lap. He doesn’t hide his face now though, just casts his eyes to his lap. “He used to… He and my mom were together for a while, I think.”

Curly had expected drugs or gang crimes or something of the like – not an old stepdad. “You think?” 

“He—” Jordan shakes his head, sniffs. His hysterics are fading, and it’s almost like Jordan’s accepted the rest of the story. Has disconnected himself from all the emotion attached it his past. It’s just the present that he’s having a hard time with. “It’s complicated. Nick was an asshole. I barely even remember him, ‘cause my mom’s next… Guy, Marc – he pretty much chased him off the scene. But we owed him money,” he explains, and that makes a little more sense. Curls wonders what kind of boyfriend would give a mother and her kid so much grief over money. “Nick had a lot of enemies anyway. He was a joke but Marc was the real deal and he took it personally, so we were covered. But then, when things got fucked up with Marc… Well, we didn’t have any protection anymore.”

“So you left New York to get away from Nick,” he tries to follow.

“No,” he finally looks Curly’s way, seemingly forgetting the root of the conversation as he gets lost in the story. “Marc chased us out, he—” He looks genuinely remorseful now. “It was my fault, but that’s… Somethin’ else. Difference is, Marc only wanted us gone, but Nick still wanted his money, so we left, and he didn’t bother us for a while. And then I saw these two guys at the club one night; Boyd and Rick.”

“Was that them? In the street?”

The man nods. “I paid ‘em off as much as a could, but we still owed Nick… Fuck, thousands.”

Curly wants so badly to tell Jordan that there’s no ‘we’ – that he’s got no doubt that it’s Jordan’s mother that owes the money, and that Jordan just got dragged into it all, but then the man adds, “he’d have killed me for the sake of getting my mom’s fucking attention. She don’t even know he was around – I barely know where she is half of the time, never mind them.”

“So, you paid somebody to beat him up, like a warning? Where did you get that kind of money? How much would—”

“Just—” J shakes his head again. “The point is, I didn’t fuckin’ pay to get him killed. I just—fuck.” The realisation must dawn on him again, and something tells Curly that this is the first time Jordan’s really let himself take it all in. “I haven’t heard from them since – any of them. The guys I paid, Boyd or Rick.”

“Okay, so that’s good—”

“No Curly, it’s not fucking good because they killed Nick and I paid them! I—” He stops, snaps his mouth shut and arches into himself again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I just. This shit can come back to me. So fucking easily. If they figured out who did it, they’d ask questions, it’d come right back—”

“But he has a lot of enemies,” Curls reads back. “You said that. Seven years is a long fucking time, J. I bet he’s got a lot of new enemies in New York by now.” Fuck knows if what he’s saying holds any weight, but Curly just talks and talks and hopes something sticks. “If anyone is questioning anything, I’ll bet they’re running ‘round in bloody circles. If it was them who killed him, it’s on them.” He knows rightly that Jordan has played a large part in it but— “he sounds like a fucking arsehole. He’d have killed you if you didn’t do it first. And me and your mum. You didn’t want him dead; I believe that, but he is and, love, it’s probably bloody good that he is.”

Jordan remains quiet as he lays back down. He lies on his side and Curly spots the orange-red liquid weeping through his bandage but says nothing, for now, instead lowering himself to lay beside him, pulling the sheets over them and hooking an ankle over the man’s leg.

The man nods, no longer looking away but instead directly at Curly as his fingers play with his hair. “I fucking hated him,” he tells him. “When I was a kid, he was...” Jordan huffs. “And now he’s dead, and it’s my fault, and I feel sick. I keep thinking of all the different ways I coulda fixed it instead.”

“Did he hurt you? And your mum?”

Jordan just huffs again, shifting until they’re sharing Curly’s pillow this time. “Stop tryna make me a martyr,” he tells him, hushed. “Don’t look for reasons to hate him. Let me be sorry.” Their noses touch as he closes his eyes, just a little too tight. “I am sorry.”

“I believe you,” Curly tells him.

It’s done. Jordan didn’t mean to do it. It was probably some freak accident where they guys went too hard -- if it was even them at all. J’s got a totally different life in Brockton. No visible ties at all. He pushes himself up again, eyes on the man’s neck again, too unsettled to start lying around doing nothing.

“Please let me change your bandage.”

Jordan hums as he gives a small nod. “Okay, once.”

One bloody problem at a time, he thinks.

[perfecttimeseleven]

PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN EP. 5 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE

SCENE NINE

REMINGTON

I can’t believe Jay eats pizza with a fork. I man, I can’t believe we seriously just ate the HP-delivered pizza, either — but there’s just a lot to process here.

(DAISY takes another bite of her slice.)

DAISY

Free pizza’s free pizza, my dude.

REMINGTON

Cheers to that.

(REMINGTON raises her glass of lemonade and clinks it against DAISY’s glass of juice. JAY, feeling a little apologetic, hesitantly raises her glass of milk towards DAISY’s glass, but DAISY puts her glass down, making a face at JAY.)

DAISY

Milk-drinkers need to be oppressed.

JAY

(sipping from her glass of milk, before putting it down)

Our bones are stronger than yours.

DAISY

Hey, uhh, guess what? You’re a cuck.

REMINGTON

(changing the subject)

Um, so you all didn’t find anything outside?

DR. MORELLO

The man you claim to have seen —

REMINGTON

The man I most definitely saw.

DR. MORELLO

— seems to have vanished without a trace.

(pauses)

But now that we’re aware this hypothetical man —

REMINGTON

This very real man —

DR. MORELLO

— knows of our — your whereabouts, we must remain incredibly vigilant.

REMINGTON

Well, is there anything you can tell me about the, ah, bad people? You see, I can’t help but worry a little about...well, anyone going after my life.

DR. MORELLO

All you need to know about the threat is how to keep yourself safe.

DAISY

The classic “keep your doors and windows locked, stay off your phone, don’t talk to strangers who say they’ve stabbed pizza guys” kinda deal.

REMINGTON

Okay, but —

DR. MORELLO

Now, Remington, I’ve been talking with Jay.

REMINGTON

Uh —

DR. MORELLO

She’s already agreed to this, but...essentially, I think it would be beneficial, tomorrow morning, to try to recreate the possession incident from today. Under close guidance, of course. It’s in all ways extraordinary, and I think this soulmate bond holds a lot of mystery and possibility. Tomorrow’s a big day. Accordingly, I want you both to get some sleep as soon as possible. Meaning, now.

REMINGTON

What —

DAISY

Wait, c’mon! I still need to show Remy embarrassing videos of Jay on my phone!

JAY

(splutters, almost choking on her pizza)

The what?

DR. MORELLO

Daisy, go show Remington to her room.

DAISY

Ugh, fine.

(DAISY and REMINGTON get up and exit.)

DR. MORELLO

Take the plates, Daisy.

(DAISY enters.)

DAISY

Ugh, fine.

(DAISY picks up her plate and REMINGTON’s plate, before exiting.)

DR. MORELLO

Jay...

JAY

You’ve gotta be kidding.

(pauses)

Me, too?

DR. MORELLO

Yes.

(With a dramatic rolling of her eyes, JAY grudgingly picks up her plate and exits. DR. MORELLO picks up the now-empty pizza box and his own plate, before exiting the other way.)

ACT ONE

SCENE TEN

REMINGTON

Okay, why the fuck are there so many Jay Mazziottas on Instagram?

(scrolls a bit more)

I give up.

(tosses the phone onto the carpet)

Goodnight!

(then, to herself)

Goodnight!

(REMINGTON puts her phone on the table and turns off the lamp, before crawling into her blankets and falling asleep. Cricket chirps, birdsong, and noises of traffic fill the air. REMINGTON bolts upright in her bed.)

REMINGTON

(looking around)

The fuck kinda dream is this?

HP

Hello, Remington Long!

(REMINGTON turns around, seeing HP)

REMINGTON

(initially shocked)

Ack!

(hopping off the bed)

Hey, sexy printer man! I’m in my jammies!

HP

I see! I am not a fan of the Jeff man on your shirt. Dinosaur man.

REMINGTON

You don’t like Jeff Goldblum? The fuck is wrong with this dream?

(looking around)

Whatever. Uh, I don’t know why we’re in Central Park but let’s not question my subconscious. There’s a bed here and we both know where this dream is going to go so come down here and let’s just get to it.

HP

What?

REMINGTON

(to self)

Shit, are my lucid dream powers not working? Do I need to eat more almonds?

HP

Silly Remington, I am not a figment of your imagination!

REMINGTON

You see, that’s exactly what a figment of my imagination would say.

HP

I’m here to finish our little chit-chat from earlier. Chit-chat fun times. Okay?

REMINGTON

Uh, I’m not supposed to talk to you, figment of imagination or otherwise, all righty? “Perfectionist” is a slur or something, and you’ve stabbed a pizza man, and…yeah. So if this dream isn’t going in the, uh, desirable direction, I’m not too interested. I’m gonna wake up now.

HP

You can’t.

REMINGTON

Watch me!

HP

Silly Remington, I am really here. Don’t you understand that?

(REMINGTON pauses.)

REMINGTON

Well, shit.

(pauses)

Did you make us appear in Central Park too?

HP

No, no, silly, that’s your imagination. As is that scantily clad person in your dream who has been trying to get our attention —

REMINGTON

Is that Jay?

DREAM JAY

(waving)

Yoo-hoo, hot stuff!

REMINGTON

No, no, don’t go —

HP

I’m just crashing your regularly scheduled dream; that’s a thing I can do. And a thing you can too.

REMINGTON

First, huge invasion of my privacy. Wait, what? I can — ?

HP

You can do all sorts of fun shit if you put your mind to it, baby! That’s why Dr. Morello’s scared of you. He wants to lock you up in his cottage forever like his other pets so you never learn shit.

REMINGTON

Okay, but what’s “shit?” And, uh, make this quick.

(furtively looks offstage for DREAM JAY)

I have dream business to attend to.

HP

Anything you put your mind to. You’re an Eleven, Remington. We’re “high numbers”.

(gestures dramatically)

With the imprints of more lifetimes, more history, more knowledge, and more potential.

(There’s a pause. HP freezes in his dramatic gesture, waiting for a response.)

REMINGTON

You’re gonna have to dumb this down a lot more for me, buddy.

HP

Ahh, let’s say every Perfectionist has a little tear in the wall in the back of their mind, okay? And what’s behind that is shiny cool stuff. Well, for high numbers, the tears are wider and more fragile. To get to the shiny cool stuff, you just have to break the wall entirely!

REMINGTON

Uhh, okay. And how do you do that?

HP

You stay away from the kind of old artifacts that keep your voices out.

REMINGTON

You mean, you’ve got no accessory on? You’re just living 24/7 with your voices? Damn. No wonder you’re a little out of it.

HP

Yes! They’re here now, actually. They’re just staying quiet until I need some fancy backing vocals.

REMINGTON

Some what?

HP

Is that bracelet the accessory you use?

REMINGTON

Uh, yeah.

(HP grabs REMINGTON’s wrist, lifting it up and gazing at it. He hisses at the bracelet.)

REMINGTON

You good?

(HP lets go of REMINGTON, suddenly backing up. 9. Welcome to Your Mind.)

HP

THAT THING KILLS THE VOICES, AND ALONG WITH THEM, EVERYTHING ELSE!

IT TRAINS YOUR BRAIN TO MORPH INTO A BUNCH OF JAIL CELLS.

BUT, OF COURSE, THAT BRACELET ISN’T SOMETHING YOU’VE QUESTIONED! OOOH,

BUT IT’S DOING WHAT HIPPIE MOTHERS THINK ANTIDEPRESSANTS DO!

YOU’RE NO ORDINARY HUMAN! YOU’RE A PERFECTIONIST!

SO FORGET ALL THE BULLSHIT YOU’VE BEEN FED BY YOUR LITTLE THERAPIST!

IF YOU OPEN UP TO YOUR SOUL AND DITCH THAT NASTY AND TRAGIC

BRACELET, YOU’LL FIND YOU’VE GOT A TYPE OF ALMOST…MAGIC!

Just like what you thought HP stood for.

(in a terrible fake British accent, with hand motions)

“Harry Potter.”

(suddenly loud)

Yer a wizard, bitch! Ha!

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND, REMINGTON LONG!

JUST GIVE A SHOUT! KNOCK ON THE DOOR! RING THE LITTLE BELL — “DING DONG!”

CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO SEE WHAT LIES INSIDE!

CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO SEE WHAT LIES THEY HIDE!

OH, WELCOME, WELCOME, WELCOME TO YOUR MIND.

CENTURIES OF LIFETIMES IN THERE! ON THAT, WE CAN AGREE,

BUT MILLENNIUMS OF KNOWLEDGE IS WHAT YOU DON’T YET SEE!

WOULDN’T YOU LIKE TO LEARN TO SET FIRES WITH JUST ONE THOUGHT

(motioning behind him as a tree bursts into flame)

OR TO HOP FROM DREAM TO DREAM? Like now! I’m in your head! Ha!

HP/HP’S VOICES

AREN’T YOU PISSED

HP

THAT NO ONE TELLS YOU ANYTHING AT ALL?

IT’S BECAUSE, WITH A SNAP OF YOUR FINGERS, THEY’LL ALL FALL

AT YOUR KNEES! AND THEY’LL BEG, “OH, PLEASE, LET ME GO!”

YOU’LL LEARN IT’S FUN AS SHIT WHEN YOU CAN JUST TELL ‘EM “NO.”

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND, REMINGTON LONG!

SURE, THE VOICES HURT AT FIRST, BUT “WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU”…MAKES YOU STRONG!

CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO MEET ALL OF YOU!

‘CAUSE WHEN YOU’RE LIKE US, IT’S THE THING TO DO!

OH, WELCOME, WELCOME, WELCOME TO YOUR MIND!

(The ground below HP’s feet starts rising up into the air until he’s a few feet above the ground.)

HP’S VOICES

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND!

HP

STUPID HUMANS CONTROL NOTHING IN THEIR LIVES,

THOUGH THEY MIGHT TRY TO BY BUYING SOME GUNS OR SOME KNIVES.

YOU’VE SPENT YOUR WHOLE LIFE FEELING LIKE A PAWN.

I’VE BEEN THERE TOO, BUT NOW, THIS FEELING IS GONE!

WE’RE MORE THAN HUMAN, SO WHY NOT EMBRACE OUR POWER?

INFLICT THE PAIN YOU FEEL! MAKE THIS YOUR FINEST HOUR!

WHEN YOU’RE IN CONTROL, THERE’S NO VIRTUE OR SIN!

GOD ISN’T REAL, BUT IF HE WAS, WE COULD FIGHT HIM. AND WIN!

(A tree near HP explodes. There’s a chittering noise and a squirrel comes sailing out of the debris. HP catches it with one hand.)

HP

OH, LOOK AT THIS! A SQUIRREL! I CAN MAKE IT EXPLODE!

(throws the squirrel upwards and it explodes in mid-air)

BABY, YOU’VE GOT NO CLUE ALL THE POWER THAT’S STOWED

IN YOUR MIND! YOU WILL FIND WONDER!

(making a bolt of lightning appear behind him, accompanied by a crash of thunder)

LIGHTNING! THUNDER!

TAKE CONTROL AND TAKE A STROLL DOWN YOUR TRUE DESTINED ROAD!

I FIND MOST PROBLEMS TEND TO DISAPPEAR

WHEN I SET THEM ON FIRE!

(making his hands light up with flames)

SO TRY THAT, MY DEAR!

THE PEOPLE AND THE ANIMALS INSIDE YOUR HEAD

CAN AND WILL TEACH YOU EVERYTHING THE WEAKLINGS DREAD!

(jumps down to the ground)

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND, REMINGTON LONG!

WHEN YOU CAN’T TELL GOOD FROM BAD, THAN CAN YOU REALLY DO ANY WRONG?

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND!

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND!

WELCOME TO YOUR MIND, REMINGTON LONG!

HP

Interested? Meet me here.

(HP gives REMINGTON a small piece of paper.)

Until then…try it out!

(HP reaches both hands towards REMINGTON’s wrist.)

REMINGTON

Wait —

(It’s too late. HP’s removed her bracelet and is now holding it in one hand.)

ACT ONE

SCENE ELEVEN

REMINGTON’S VOICES

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM, JOYCE, TRADITION, BIRDS.

(HP runs off, dropping REMINGTON’s bracelet discreetly onto her bed. He exits.)

REMINGTON

(thinking HP took her bracelet)

Shit! Shit! Bitch, you took my bracelet!

REMINGTON’S VOICES

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM, JOYCE, TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM, JOYCE…JOYCE…JOYCE…

REMINGTON

No. No. Not Clara! No!

(Around REMINGTON and his bed, the set starts changing again.)

REMINGTON’S VOICES

JOYCE…JOYCE…JOYCE…JOYCE…JOYCE…

(REMINGTON’s surroundings have faded into the all-too-familiar living room. It’s dimly lit in warm yellow light. DR. MORELLO’s sitting on the couch, alone and typing on a computer he’s rested on his lap.)

REMINGTON

Hey! Dr. Morello!

(DR. MORELLO doesn’t react.)

REMINGTON

Dr. Morello? Can you hear me? Guess not. Huh.

(REMINGTON moves away from DR. MORELLO, inspecting the room. JAY enters.)

REMINGTON

Oh, yeah. Jaaaay! About time!

(REMINGTON approaches her, but JAY doesn’t acknowledge her presence. In fact, she walks right past her.)

REMINGTON

Jay! No! Pay attention to me!

DR. MORELLO

(closing his laptop)

Jay. Couldn’t sleep?

JAY

Nope.

REMINGTON

Uh, hello?

(JAY sits on the couch.)

JAY

This…soulmate thing.

REMINGTON

Oh, shit, they’re gonna talk about me.

JAY

I…don’t know how…

DR. MORELLO

(chuckling)

The girl physically repulses you? That’s understandable.

REMINGTON

Hey! Asshole!

(JAY pauses, standing up. She walks towards the TV.)

JAY

As much as I wish that were it...

(picking up the cover of the Just Dance 3 disc and looking at it)

it’s…leaning towards the opposite, actually.

REMINGTON

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! It’s a good dream!

JAY

(turning back to face DR. MORELLO)

D’you think this…this all...

(JAY lifts up the disc cover silently. DR. MORELLO exhales.)

DR. MORELLO

(solemnly)

Will be another Mark situation? Jay, what happened back then was not…and never will be…your fault. The only one blaming you for that day is you.

JAY

Who’s blaming myself? I…I don’t blame myself. I blame him.

(tightening her grip on the disc cover, fingers digging into the plastic)

Fucking hate his guts!

REMINGTON

(whispered, to self)

Not the Just Dance 3 disc cover!

(There’s a loud crack of plastic. JAY’s broken the disc cover in her fist. DR. MORELLO sighs and gets up. Slowly, he takes the broken disc cover away from her and sets it down gently next to the TV. Meanwhile, REMINGTON’s making her way around her bed to edge in closer to the conversation.)

DR. MORELLO

Calm down, Jay. Go to bed.

JAY

I’m…it just all feels too familiar. Me. Her. An Eleven.

REMINGTON

(noticing her bracelet on the bed)

Oh my god, is that my bracelet? Thank God.

JAY

I don’t know if I —

[heavenly-hero-mourningstar]

Taiyuu High Entrance Exam: Grigori Vai Quirk: Animate

@taiyuu-high-oct

Vai knew they were in for a rough ride from the second they saw the building.

They had wondered for quite some time why the entrance exam was being held at a secondary location instead of on school grounds, but looking up at the massive warehouse (carbon steel frame– melting point of 2,500° F; Fiberglass roofing– melting point of 2,075° F), the answer became clear.

Hundreds of applicants stand outside, slowly filing into an atrium of sorts (concrete floor– ‘melts’ at around 1,000°F) where a dark-haired woman in a grassy bodysuit awaits them, leaning casually against a two-story tall, cast-iron door. Vai manages to push their way into one of the less crowded corners just as the woman speaks.

“Welcome, hero wannabes!” she shouts, not bothering with a microphone. The crowd hushes and from Vai’s position at the back, they can just barely make out the woman– Pro-hero Lacca-daisy, principal of Taiyuu High –move away from the door with a grin. “As you can see, we’re a bit overwhelmed with the sheer number of applicants this year, but this test was a bitch to set up as it is, so no whining about the extra competition, ‘kay?”

Several applicants shift and grumble, but the principal pays them no mind.

“This here,” she stops to pound twice against the metal door. “is your first challenge on the road to becoming heroes, and let me tell you, it ain’t an easy one. You’re gonna be placed in a maze with a bunch of enemies and your goal is to wrack up as many points as you can by grabbing ‘flags’ we’ve scattered throughout. Bigger flags are worth more points, but there’s no limit to how many you can grab at once, so try an’ be strategic about which flags you choose. Once you’ve collected your flags, you’re going to bring them back here where the door will automatically log your points. There are two other ‘safe zones’ like this in the maze, but you’ll have to find those for yourselves. You follow so far?”

There’s a murmur of agreement throughout the atrium, but once again, Lacca-daisy doesn’t particularly seem to care.

“As for the enemies, there’s two types you gotta worry about. Type one: faculty. They’re all wearing masks and have been warned about using their quirks, but don’t think that makes ‘em any weaker. With or without their quirks, these guys will still kick your ass if you get too cocky.” she says, giving the crowd a meaningful look. “Then there’s type two: robots. You’re welcome to go all out on these guys and they come in a variety of shapes and sizes just to spice things up. Neither enemy will actively try to hurt you but they will slow you down, and if you’re not careful, steal your flags.

Last rule and if you break this one, you will be disqualified regardless of how many points you get, no sabotage. You steal from another contestant, set traps, slow them down– I don’t care how, you’re out of the running. Any questions?”

A smattering of hands raise and Lacca-daisy grins. “No? Nobody? Then get going!”

The door slams open, startling most of the crowd and sending the first of the applicants into action. Sat at the back of the crowded room, Vai immediately curls in on themself as the room empties around them.

‘Shit,’ they think. ‘Already off to a bad start.’

They stand and begin sprinting after the others, straight past a smiling Lacca-daisy and into the maze. Walls sprout up around them, each one reaching two stories before meeting the roof. Vai takes the first left and keeps going straight, trying to get away from the throngs of hero-hopefuls.

CLICK.

“Shit!” The lights go out. From around the corner, Vai can see a purple spotlight, and ahead another hundred feet is a pulsing green and blue one. It’s just barely light enough to maneuver, but it’s certainly disorienting, and more importantly…

“I’m glowing. Ffffffffff–” The soft white light of their skin and hair sends halos onto the walls and within moments, they can hear the mechanical whir, thump of a robot heading straight for them. “The one freaking day I don’t bring a hoodie,” they lament, dashing further down the corridor before ducking just below the pulsing light. They put their hand to the wall, testing for it’s malleability before cursing again. The walls are a carbon alloy, clearly created to withstand the barrage of quirks about to be thrown at them.

I could probably use it anyway, but I have no idea how long this test is, and if I overdo it…

The bot comes into view– a tall, gangly thing with reinforced arms and a clear weak spot in its neck. It scans for Vai, but hidden low under the blues and greens of the pulsing light, it isn’t immediately apparent that they’re there until a pale hand suddenly grabs the bot by its leg.

It tries to step back, but suddenly the teen is wrapped around it like a koala hanging for dear life and forcing their quirk through it faster than they can think. It raises its arm to beat them off when a loud pop! sounds and the whole thing twists, taking head and arm and legs with it.

The metal melts and bends and twists before re-converging on something resembling a twisted giraffe.

Vai slumps to the ground, staring up at their creation with dull eyes.

“Why did I make a giraffe? Could’ve made a lion, but no. I made a giraffe.” The creature in question cocks it’s matte metal head (steel, thank gods) and Vai groans again. “I know, I have no one to blame but myself.”

Looking up as they are, Vai sees the moment the blue light glints against the ceiling and–

“Okay, sweetie. Lift me as high as your spindly little neck can,” they grin. The creature complies, and Vai silently dubs him Jeff because why not. Once Jeff has lifted them as high as he can (about 17ft), they press flush against the closest wall and activate their quirk again, forcefully shaping handholds into the wall until they can reach the ceiling.

“Fiberglass roofing,” the teen grins. “Lightweight with a melting point of 2,075° F.”

Minutes later, soaring eighteen feet in the air on a freshly made pair of fiberglass bat wings and followed closely by an overzealous Jeff, Vai finds the first of their ‘flags’ rather quickly. Not having been given any guidelines on what exactly the flags were, they were surprised to find a variety of objects ranging from small disks to a full sized crash test dummy, all with the Taiyuu logo printed across them in incandescent paint.

“Jeff, take the dummy. I’ll grab as many of the smaller ones as I can,” they say.

“Oh, will you now?”

Vai spins in the air, shocked to find a rather well-muscled man in all black standing at the end of the alcove. “Shit.”

The man pauses, and Vai can suddenly feel the disappointed frown materialize beneath his mask. “You know this is a school entrance exam, right? You shouldn’t curse.”

Vai blushes red. “Shit, you’re right. Wait. Sorry, shit!” Vai buries their face in their hands, letting out a long groan. “I suck at this.”

They look up just in time to see the man running toward them, a bo staff having appeared in his hands. Jeff leaps in front of his creator just in time for the staff to come down with a loud and reverberating CLANG as Vai grabs as many of the small disks as they can before taking to the air and releasing Jeff, dropping him in all his 450 pound robotic glory directly onto the man in black.

Flying off as fast as they can, because Jeff’s robot form may be heavy but there is no way a trained pro is going to let that stop them, Vai shouts a quick, “Sorry!” and speeds back toward the first Safe Room. By the time they arrive, there are at least three dozen other applicants crowding the door, all clutching a variety of neon painted Taiyuu-themed objects. Luckily, their altitude makes it slightly easier to push past the squalling throng, but after dropping the disks and making their way back out, Vai still feels shaken in a way that has nothing to do with the crowd.

So many people want this…

They push through the middle this time, landing and curling their wings around their glowing form as best they can. They can feel the beginnings of some pretty bad bruises forming under the Fiberglass harness of their wings. Note to self: get an actual harness for next time.

“Attention, applicants! Time is now half over. I repeat; you better hurry your asses up!”

“She’s allowed to curse…” Vai grouches, turning in on what looked like another flag deposit. “Shit! This one’s cleaned out already.”

BANG!

Vai spins around, turning the corner to find a section of floor blown to pieces and two applicants nursing minor scrapes and burns.

“There’s traps now, too?” one of them shrieks, crystal growths in her skin flashing red in anger. “What the actual Hell?”

“Ah! I think I broke my ankle!” the other cries. Shaggy black hair obscures his eyes, but Vai is pretty sure there are tears dripping down his cheeks.

Vai pales. If I had landed any sooner, that would’ve been me… I’ve gotta keep flying.

“Do you need help getting back to the Safe Room? It’ll be slow, but I could probably fly you there?” they offer. Both applicants look at them like they’ve grown a second head.

“What, and quit while there’s still time left?” the crystal girl says. “Not a chance.” Beside them, the dark-haired boy nods along.

“We’re going to be the best hero duo the world has ever seen! We can’t do that if only one of us gets in!”

Vai nods in understanding, but feels sick even as the boy shakily gets to his feet, his friend helping him continue into the maze. They peel up their own shirt and gently prod at the darkening bruises digging into their hips and ribs.

Everyone wants this…. I can’t afford not to give it my all.

Taking off once again, they quickly scour the maze for more flags, but only find several more deposits, a disk someone must’ve dropped, and the second of the three Safe Rooms. That along with quite a few broken robots and several more injured teens– a girl who could stick to walls even warns them that certain walls have laser sensors in them too.

“Just a few more points,” they incant. “I can’t give up now.”

Suddenly, something hits them from behind with enough force to send them straight into the wall. Vai collapses to the ground in a heap, ribs burning like the sun. Another robot stands behind them, this time with tank treads and a gun.

Vai tries to stand, but the pain flares brighter and they collapse back to the ground. “No…Please, fuck, no.”

The robot advances, leveling the gun with Vai’s tear-stained face and for a brief second, they remember Lacca-daisey’s words.

“Neither enemy will actively try to hurt you but they will slow you down, and if you’re not careful, steal your flags.”

If they give up that last disk, the bot might leave them alone. If they don’t fight, just surrender and let it keep them here…

But that would mean giving up. That would mean saying ‘hopefully this is enough’ and letting fate decide, and fate, as Vai knows from personal experience, is an idiot.

They wrap their arms around their middle, feeling where a rib has popped out of place and is pressing horribly against the abused skin under their make-shift harness. The robot stills as they close their eyes, taking it as a sign of defeat, and Vai forces their quirk through their own body, superheating and popping the rib back into place with a pained shriek. It hurts– it hurts so goddamn bad they think for a second they might’ve lost consciousness, but when they open their eyes, the robot is still there, the gun is still leveled at their face, and Vai still doesn’t have enough points.

They stand, ignoring the sharp jabs of pain, and launch themself at the robot with all the force they can muster, sending the last of their energy into the bot in the vague hopes of it being enough. The treaded robot trembles beneath their hands, the gun click– click– click– clicking until Vai realizes with a start that the clicking has turned to a roar. They look up at the mane of their creation and give a watery smile.

“I made a lion.”

The buzzer sounds three minutes later and Vai has barely managed to scrape together another two disks and a plastic dog before collapsing in the second Safe Room they found, their lion falling to sheet metal as the last of their adrenaline-borne energy runs out. Eventually, several black-clad faculty members come to get them, one of them checking over their rib and asking what on Earth they did to it that the entire thing seems to be twisted like a barbers pole. The lights come on and someone heals them– properly this time –and Vai goes home limping, covered in sweat, and positively beaming.

They did their best, and fate will have nothing to do with it.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Audacity

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Incubus!Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirsty Crew, happy Valentine's Day! Tagging the broskis @toxiicpop,  @oraclegazes and @hardcorewwetrash as is my custom! This was written for @helplessly-nonstop 's Winter Writing Challenge, utilizing prompt number thirty two: “May God bang us all.” “Well, he may not bang us, but I will definitely bang you.” Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: Contains mentions of typical incubus behavior, vague and absolutely inaccurate summoning rituals, blood in general and a hint of sacrilege. Stay safe!]

Catchphrases were sort of your thing. Witty quips and one-liners were all but your bread and butter. They had served you well in your life. That is, until now.

You stared at the...whatever it was in your apartment, the thing that seemed to be slowly solidifying into a vaguely masculine form. Your finger was still stinging from nicking it with that steak knife, but you pushed it away for the moment.

Your creative brain was having a real bear of a time parsing what it was seeing, and your words failed you as the...well, probably-male figure shook his head and stretched his arms out with an obnoxiously loud yawn.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.” He groaned. You were abruptly pinned to the floor, a set of curious green eyes boring into your own. “You summoned me, yeah? Well, whatcha’ want?”

“I uh. Pardon?” You asked weakly.

Those eyes narrowed. “Playin’ coy, huh? Nice try.”

“How...How did you get in here?”

His right eye twitched and he settled back on his haunches, making an irritated noise while he gathered the long, dark hair out of his face. “You've gotta’ be shittin' me. I'm askin’ for a circle redesign, this is the third fuckin’ prank call in a hundred years!” He griped, hands working behind his head to tie his hair back. “Finally have the chance to work all my kinks out and it's just some slack-jaw sittin’ in their livin’ room!”

“Hey!” You yelped. “Excuse the hell out of me, buddy! If someone decided to magically appear in the middle of your living room, I'm sure you'd be pretty slack-jawed yourself!”

“I'd get a shovel, if we're bein’ hypothetical,” the man(?) replied, prowling around you on all fours. His baggy pants dragged on the floor. They looked strikingly similar to something you would have worn during an emo phase (which you may or may not have had in your younger years). “I'm not exactly big on hospitality.” His right shoulder blade and arm were covered with a tattoo that looked eerily like a network of large, hole-riddled veins. Your overactive imagination swore up and down that it was glowing faintly purple and shifting more than could be explained away by his motion.

A discordant jangle caught your attention and you glanced down, noticing for the first time that he was wearing a collar with a long length of chain attached. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to locate the other end of the chain. You hurriedly got to your feet and sidestepped out of the loop he was making around your ankles. “Listen, I don't know who you are or how you got in here, but if you leave now I won't call the police.” You gave him what you hoped was a stern look.

“You summoned me, y’ dumb--look at the damn floor.” He retorted, gesturing at the area he had appeared. Specifically, the area of thick rug where you had been absently dragging your fingers through the luxurious pile of fibers and enjoying a lonely steak dinner.

You had cut yourself accidentally while trying to slice off another piece from the steak, the serrated blade of the steak knife easily parting your skin. Blood had started to dribble quickly, splattering onto the plate and the rug when you bolted to your feet to grab a paper towel. And when you had returned…

“That,” The man stressed, pointing at the messy circle and lines you had drawn into the velour of the rug, “is my circle. You gave a human blood offerin’ after drawin' the circle, kinda’ old school but whatever. So I'm here now. Here to fulfill your needs.” He spoke slowly, obviously mocking you. “You get all that?”

“Well no, not really. I...h-hey, let go!” You exclaimed when he snagged your wounded hand.

He proceeded to ignore you and smear the tiny amount of blood left on your finger with the end of his nose, looking back up at you after several moments of silence. His pupils had shrunk to pinpoints in the green-blue of his irises. “You have no idea what you've done, do you.” It was sort of a question. Maybe. You shook your head. “Augh. What the fuck.”

“Get fucked Sunshine, your shitty attitude and vague explanations aren't helping whatever situation I'm in right now!” You snapped, entirely through with his griping.

“You brought me here, okay? I only show up for one thing.” He said after a long pause where he seemed to be trying to formulate a sentence. “I don't look like this normally. I look like this because that's what you wanted. I’m here only because you asked...or, demanded. Bein’ summoned can get to be a gray area after a while. Do you at least know what I'm here for?”

“I don't understand any of this so, no.”

He put his face in his hands, yowling down into his palms in what was clearly frustration. “Alright butterbean, no sense beatin’ around the bush. Since you're a damn dumbass. I'm here to fuck you.” He snarled finally. “I'm summoned to fuck. You specifically. You designed my body. That's how this shit works. It's made to be appealin’ to you.”

I'm here to fuck you.

You were entirely at a loss, staring at him in disbelief.

You designed my body.

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your eyes from wandering. He still seemed to notice, if his little smirk was any indicator. “You like what you made? It's all yours to play with. Every inch.” He undulated his body, hands laced behind his head in a smug pose. “You're lookin’ hungry. Why not let me satiate that appetite of yours?”

“I...I am just so confused right now.” You said weakly.

“Don’t think. You're alone on Valentine's Day and I am the answer to your heart’s call.” He murmured.

“I mean that's great and all but...hey, how do you know I'm alone?!” You exclaimed, folding your arms across your chest.

He raised an eyebrow at you, then glanced pointedly down at the solitary plate on the carpet. “Really?”

“Good God you're rude. Supernatural entity my ass, I've met sixth graders with more maturity.”

Those green eyes flashed dangerously. “Your God's got nothin’ to do with me an’ that's just how I like it.”

“Well well! The personalized fuck machine has daddy issues. Who could have guessed?” You shot back, confused when a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Mm, I like this. Sharp little knife of a thing, ain't you?” He advanced, forcing you to step backwards or risk being within reach. “Who made you that way? Doubt you came out the womb spittin' venom.”

“I trained in the mountains. Sat under waterfalls and wrestled bears.”

“Aha, you're so quick. It's been ages since anyone's given me this level of sass.” Your back hit the wall and his hands pressed to the space over your shoulders, loosely caging you in. “I can’t hurt you. I'm only here for one thing. Sure I like playin' with my food, but I won't do anythin' you don't consent to, my little blade.”

The term should have been insulting, and yet, it seemed almost...endearing when he said it. Affectionate. As though he believed you were dangerous and actually respected you for it.

“So what do you want me to do? What's your heart's desire in the bedroom? Your softest wish, the one you ain't told nobody?” He whispered the words, his voice low. “Whatever you want, my beautiful, sharp-edged summoner, it's yours.”

“Whew, you say some wild shit.” You managed to reply after a moment of mentally fanning yourself. He was so close, his chest nearly touching your own every time he took a breath. You felt warm and a little giddy, dizzy from the attention he was lavishing upon you.

“I say what I need to.” His fingers brushed your cheek. “An' I wait for the go-ahead on everythin’ else.” He grimaced suddenly, hand flying to the collar around his neck. “Fuck you, that's how it's always been. No need t' strangle me old man.” He snarled under his breath.

“Who are you talking to?” You asked in bewilderment.

“The oh-so-merciful one holdin’ the other end of the chain.” He coughed out the words, air wheezing in his throat. You could see that the chain was pulled as tight as it could go. “He gets wound up about nasty things like me. Wants me to be ugly about this an’ I--”

His voice abruptly cut off and he clawed at the collar, seemingly unable to undo the simple buckle you could plainly see.

You reached out your hand to him without thinking and strangely, he took it and pressed it to his cheek. ‘Thank you’, he mouthed. His luminous eyes were pained when he released you.

Your fingers snatched at the buckle beneath his chin, the sharp metal punching into the skin of his throat. His eyes widened as your other hand came up and started to feed the free end of the collar through the buckle. It was harder than you thought it would be; jagged spikes laced the inside of the leather like shark's teeth, digging in and refusing to let go. “Hang on, okay?” You muttered, wriggling the strap with all your might.

“What are you-?” His breathing hitched and he fumbled to grab your wrist. “Y’ can't, wai--” He pleaded, shaking his head.

You glared at him, your eyes narrowed. “Listen, if what I'm doing is wrong, is an affront to the big man or whoever it is that's choking you out right now, well…” You paused, finally loosening the buckle enough to pull the strap free. Those spikes tore out of his neck and you flung the collar across the room with all your might. “Then I guess...may God bang me for my insolence, or whatever. May God bang us all.” You finished proudly, dusting off your hands in a self-satisfied manner.

“Well,” The man in front of you drawled as he straightened up, his teeth flashing in a lazy grin, “He may not bang us, but I will definitely bang you.” The wounds on his neck had started bleeding lightly, like they were nothing but scrapes instead of the deep punctures you knew them to be. Hands slammed into the wall over your shoulders and he leaned in close. “The name's Jeff, little blade, an’ it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Those vibrant green eyes fell to your mouth. “I could never remove the collar myself, and no one has ever been particularly interested in releasin’ me from it.” Jeff's breath ghosted across your lips. “I assume you'll accept payment up front?” He whispered.

When had your hands landed on his shoulders? Your palms pressed down on the flesh beneath them, fingers fumbling at Jeff's skin. What an ordinary name.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Jeff dropped to one knee in front of you. Firm hands grabbed your hips and he began pressing kisses to your stomach right above where your skirt began. “Let me please you?” He murmured against your shirt, a growl rumbling in his throat. “It's the least I can do, y'know.”

…

Their fingers were smearing the blood that had started to pool in the divots of his shoulders and collarbone. Jeff bit the satisfied snarl down into a safe little growl, his neck tendons snapping taut beneath this unfamiliar skin. This precious little dagger of a human had no idea what they were doing to him; a concealed blade that slid its way between his ribs to prick his long-cold heart.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth when their hands moved up into his hair, tugging it gently at the roots. They still reeked of sadness and frustration, tastes bitter on his tongue. “Why the hell not,” They mumbled. “Go on ahead.”

Jeff was an incubus. For as long as he could remember, as long as he had been collared, he had been driven forward by a bone-deep desire to conquer, claim, intimidate. With the leash gone though, it was as if everything became smooth. He could see past the tunnel vision of what he was made for and venture tentatively into the new realm of what he could actually do.

And this human had made it possible.

Jeff jerked the metal snap on their jeans off with one twist of his fingers, sending it flying outside the halo of light from the lone lamp. They gasped, their hands grabbing his own.

Jeff could have pulled away. Easily. Overpowered them easily. Taken them easily. Something stopped him, the knife point piercing him just a bit more. Their eyes were startled, knuckles whitened with the effort of stilling his hands.

“Be gentle, okay?” They said, “Don't hurt me.”

Jeff was seized with a strange sensation. He didn't want to hurt them, that was the odd part. But hurting so often seemed to go hand in hand with acts like this, leaving him at a loss. He let them cup his face and he sucked their wounded finger into his mouth, making them inhale as he laved the sensitive skin with his rough tongue.

“Show me.” He muttered, quickly returning their finger to his mouth after he spoke. He felt them press down on his tongue, a light pressure that turned into a stroking motion. They seemed to be marveling at the texture more than anything, which was amusing. “I imagine you’d like this tongue in at least one other place, yeah?” He prompted, grinning at the way he could feel their pulse start to race. “Lay down, little blade. Show me what you like.”

They obliged after a little more coaxing, their shyness nearly too endearing for Jeff to handle. He wanted to fuck it out of them, but at the same time he loved it so much he never wanted them to stop. The way they curled up, the way their body trembled and heated under his touch...it was intoxicating.

When they finally, finally helped him peel their jeans off, Jeff was certain that he was dreaming. Their thighs fell open for him without another protest, his sweet little blade unfurling the most delicate petals he had ever encountered. Awed, almost dazed, Jeff slid his fingers over them, collecting the slick that had gathered. They whimpered, the noise rippling down his spine in a shudder of want.

Jeff covered the insides of their thighs with kisses and nips, tormenting himself with the knowledge that they were right there but they needed him like this. Needed these lip-presses and bites far more than anything else at the moment. They had laid down on the very edge of the circle of light cast by the lamp, their face and upper body illuminated by the soft glow. He watched them bite down on their own knuckles, eyes closed and head tipped back.

He couldn't refrain any longer.

Jeff buried his face in the apex of their thighs. They cried out at the first stroke of his rough tongue, their free hand raking through his hair. Jeff growled against them and made no effort to hide the noises of his satisfaction, of their own wetness. He alternated between lashing their clit and soothing it with the smooth back of his tongue, the differing textures more than enough to make them knead at his scalp and mewl like a helpless kitten.

“Tell me how much y’ like it, my darlin’ summoner.” He whispered, looking up at them and then slowly, slowly easing his tongue into them. The textured surface rubbed against their inner walls, urging forth a half-choked noise of desperation when he withdrew it. “Tell me whether I'm bein’ too rough, okay?” Jeff continued, thrusting his tongue back home to punctuate his request.

He set a pace that made his body ache, trying his hardest to be gentle while fucking them with his tongue. As deeply as he could reach, as slow as he could force himself to go, the flat of his tongue pressing upwards towards their pubic mound while his hand rubbed circles on their belly. Jeff closed his lips around their clit every time he fully sheathed his tongue in them, enfolding the sensitive nerves in the heat of his mouth.

He wasn't sure how many times they came. They kept twitching and begging for more, their cracking voice a melody sweeter than any pleasure he had ever experienced. Hands in his hair, thighs gripping the sides of his head like they would die if he moved from between their legs...Jeff was certain this beautiful little blade had been rammed home into his heart.

He continued his breathless assault, his cock stiff and rubbing fruitlessly against the fabric of his baggy pants. Jeff took a selfish moment to grind his pelvis against their wet heat, his legs quivering with the desire to bury his cock in them and claim them until the sky pinked with dawn. But he shook it off, returning to working them over with his fingers and tongue. “One more for me? Can y’ maybe give me one more?” He murmured, chuckling at the whine of breath they let out. “It’s jus’ one more, little blade, I know you got it in ya’.”

They propped themselves up on shaking arms, their ability to still move surprising Jeff. He was even more surprised when they beckoned him up, up their body to their mouth. The kiss they gifted him was hungry, sweet, breaths panting into his mouth as they licked timidly over his tongue. There was nothing timid about the way they ground their hips against his own, though.

Jeff choked on his breath, grunting while they rocked their heat against the rigid line of his stiff cock. Their slick soaked through his pants and he let them push him onto his back, let them grind against the obviously display of his need. This was new. He had never abstained from penetration.

They continued to shift their hips back and forth over his clothed cock, the press and slide of them absolutely maddening. It was a tease of a fuck, a pantomime that threatened to kill him with every hypnotic motion. Jeff’s hands fell to their hips, fingers digging in as he bucked up against them. He indulged in the newness of this fuck-tease for what felt like a lifetime, his pants saturated through with a mixture of their slick and his own. It eased the friction, urging him on more and more to hold their hips and force them down. He could feel the head of his cock prod their entrance every now and then through the fabric, that taunting little hitch that made them gasp and croon.

Jeff had never thought that not penetrating someone could be this exhilarating, the muscles in his thighs straining against the desire to come. His body teetered halfway between frustration and completion for a short eternity, their fingers covering his own on their hips all the catalyst he apparently needed.

Jeff's head fell back, his breath caught in his throat and when they bent down to kiss him, he moaned into their mouth while coming all over the inside of his pants. They just kept kissing him, their own body shuddering at the sensory overload of his previous ministrations. Jeff silently wrapped his arms around their shoulders and pinned them to his chest, their ear pressed to where his heart would be thundering.

But something like him had lost its heart a long time ago.

…

When you woke up, you kept your eyes shut against the sunlight. You felt…

Strange.

It was a mixture of headache and low level buzz under your skin. Your whole body was tender, half-numb but too sensitive all at once. The sheets twisted in your fingers as you pulled them up over your head, blocking out a little more of the light pouring in through the window.

What a night, you mused. Bits and pieces of it played back, making you blush and bury your face in your pillow. Hell of a way to spend a lonely Valentine's Day, wet-dreaming yourself into a coma!

When you opened your eyes though, you were met with the hysterical proof that last night had not, in fact, been a dream. You yelped in dismay as you stared down at the dark red marks on the insides of your thighs, headache forgotten while you floundered to get out of your bed. Struggling into your bathrobe, you rushed to the living room as fast as you could.

A sheet of paper laid in the middle of the very obviously disturbed rug. You cringed as you took in all the lines that looked suspiciously like they had been clawed by fingers, all the areas that were pushed in a different direction than the rest of the carpet. That was what you got for splurging on a such a plush velour rug, you supposed.

You crept to the piece of paper (which appeared to be a note) and after hesitating for another moment, you knelt and picked it up gingerly.

My beautiful little knife,

Leaving before the reality sets in is pretty much my forte, I'll apologize for that. Normally I'm thrown out as a fantasy until the poor soul's belly starts to swell with the fruits of my labor. Now that you freed me, well…I'm not really sure what trouble I can get into, but I am sure you're going to see me again. Promise I'm not going to spend my free time ravishing morons in their living rooms. Unless it's your living room, of course. You're too sharp for me to be able to stay away for very long.

Happy Valentine’s and all that crap,

Jeff

“Oh.” You breathed, your fingers tracing over the messy circular pattern he had drawn in the lower left corner of the paper. “Damn. Alright then. Thank you, overly-expensive fuzzy rug.” You continued aloud, petting the fibers beneath your knees as a grin slowly snuck it's way onto your face. “Happy Valentine's Day to me in-fucking-deed. May God bang us one and all.”

[my-creative-hell]

Sleep (inverted cryptid au)

Grave had been with the two cryptids assigned to her for a good month now, slowly building a close bond with them through her work and treatment of them. They seemed to like her and accept her as a sort of friend for them, which was more than she had ever hoped to become to them.

Grave vaguely reminisces on this fact as she walks into the lab on her night shift, comically large sunglasses upon her face, designed to hide the dark circles currently lining her eyes due to lack of sleep. As she enters the lab, both cryptids immediately turn to face her from their positions lying on the floor, a routine they had developed over time. They both seem to eye the human up as she walks into the lab; able to sense that something seemed slightly off with her.

“Hi! You like my sunglasses? I was told they look rad.” Grave smiles goofily as she speaks, the larger of the two cryptids watching her silently with disapproving eyes as the smaller one lets out a harsh snort, now clearly able to sense that something was off about Grave.

“Tough crowd. Anyway…” Grave trails off as she looks around the room, frowning a little. This prompts the smaller cryptid to chirp, attempting to lighten the mood as they look at Grave from their spot on the floor. This makes Grave smile slightly.

“So um… tests. Yeah.” Grave continues as the cryptids both flap their ears in recognition, eyes following Grave as she moves around the lab to get the list she had been left behind, detailing what she was to complete tonight.

“Um… uh… fuck.” Is all Grave can utter as she begins walking around in a circle, her hands twitching slightly, catching the attention of the cryptids, who watch her in confusion, flicking their ears in slight worry. A questioning grumble comes from the larger of the two cryptids, vibrating the room with the hidden power behind it. Grave walks over to her desk, reading the first test she had to do. The test seemed to be a visual stimuli test, where the cryptids would be shown a series of images, some good, some horrific, to see how they would react to them.

“Hey um… have you done this one? I-it’s a visual stimuli.” She explains as the smaller cryptid watches her, eyes squinted, though they do nod gently as it sits up from the floor, the larger one following suit.

“Okay, cool!” Grave says, dropping the piece of paper, immediately searching for different tests to do, movements slightly frantic. This triggers the smaller cryptid to give a low, somewhat quiet growl as they watch Grave intensely, growing worried for the human’s condition. Due to the tiredness Grave was feeling, the emotions she felt, like concern and panic only grew at a quicker rate, though she was attempting to keep her shit together.

“Ah, cool!” Grave exclaims as she finds another test, reading through it as the cryptids tilt their heads, their own worry increasing as they watch her. This test seemed to be a behavioural test, in which Grave was to show aggressive behaviour to the cryptids to gauge their reaction. It claimed to be a test to ‘measure’ the cryptids aggression towards others.

“Okay, I’m not doing this to you guys. No. Fucking-” Grave throws the test in the trash, quickly looking for more, papers flying around the room in all different places as she searches. The smaller cryptid growls at this to signal its concern towards Grave as it watches her, ears laid back against its skull.

“U-Um…” Grave’s hands are shaking way too much, but she puts them atop the table to try and stop them. “Cool. This is fine.” She lies, earning a louder growl from the cryptids, who are both watching he with bared teeth, looking upset. Grave raises a sheet of paper, laughing.

“Fucking finally! A decent test.” She says happily, the two cryptids halting their growling, though they still look uncomfortable as they keep a close eye on Grave.

Grave runs over to the cryptids, hugging them as best she could, considering she was much smaller than the giant creatures. They squawk in response to the new physical contact, looking down at Grave with a surprised and confused look, slightly alarmed.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing bad.” Grave reassures as she softly pets the fur of the smaller cryptid, her face buried in its fur as it coos quietly. The cryptid gently sniffs at Grave as she hugs them, blowing hot air onto her as it does.

“You’re soft!” Grave giggles out as she hugs onto the smaller cryptid, who leans down, gently blowing hot air directly onto Grave’s head, grumbling slightly as it does so, the sound low and echoing inside Grave’s skull quietly.

“That tickles.” Grave laughs, putting her hands on her head, feeling happy and slightly panicked, if not a bit sleepy. The smaller cryptid continues to blow hot air onto her head, grumbling more as its ears flick around, leaning down slightly to try and reach eye level with Grave, though it wasn’t quite small enough to properly do it.

Grave giggles more, her eyes shut as she feels overwhelming happiness as the smaller cryptid huffs gently. It leans away from Grave, trying to see her face, more specifically to see under the sunglasses she was still wearing, eyes determined.

Grave looks at the cryptid, smiling and giggling, looking happy as the cryptid looks at her more, tilting its head as it pointedly tries to see underneath her sunglasses, to see what she was hiding from them.

Grave tries to stop giggling as she looks at the large cryptid in front of her, only able to look for a second before bursting into giggles again. The cryptid growls gently, sniffing at the sunglasses Grave was wearing, its eyes seemingly full of disdain. Grave puts the glasses on top of her head, revealing her face.

“Okay, I’m good now. I swear… kind of.” Grave explains as the cryptid inspects her face, now able to see how tired she looks, making it huff as it notices.

“What, do you want them on or off? You don’t like em on but you don’t like them-” Grave gasps quietly before she continues. “Oh… it’s that… it’s not anything too bad!” She reassures, though the cryptid growls gently, its hard eyes looking at Grave in a serious manner.

“It’s only been…” Grave looks away for a moment. “I don’t remember, everything feels long so maybe it was only a few days but still, it’s not that bad! I haven’t collapsed!” She tries to reassure and calm the cryptid, who barks in response, louder but not loud enough to hurt Grave’s ears. It glares at Grave, clearly not believing her.

“Even if it was a long time, I’ve gotta work. I promise that I’ll work as hard as I can right now and then when I get home I’ll sleep.” Grave says, pressing her and the cryptids head together in a promise. “Okay?” She questions, the cryptid huffing as it flicks its ears in annoyance, grumbling.

“The best I can do is a fifteen minute nap, but that wont do much.” Grave explains, frowning. “I’m sorry, I have to stay awake. I will sleep when I get home.” She reassures the cryptid, who seems to mumble something in response, rare for the cryptids since they didn’t like to speak due to their very distorted sounding voices. But the cryptid mumbles too low for Grave to make out what was being said.

“Need somethin’?” Grave asks, looking at the cryptid with a clearly confused expression, becoming slightly worried, though she doesn’t outwardly show it. The cryptid huffs, clearly not a fan of having to speak.

“N o t   g o o d.” The cryptid says in a stern voice as it watches Grave, eyes hard and stern.

“Much worse could have happened! It’s not like I’m running on coffee, that would make it worse I think…” Grave hugs the cryptid again, sighing. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I can’t sleep right now but I’ll be better very very soon-” Grave reassures, though the cryptid cuts her off.

“W o n ‘ t.” It insists, huffing as it frowns. “Y o u ‘ l l   d o   i t   a g a i n.” It insists as it looks down at Grave with worried eyes.

“…Not on purpose, at least. And not any time soon…” Grave counters as she hides her face in the cryptids fur again, knowing what they said was true.

“N o t   g o o d. N e e d   s l e e p.” The cryptid grumbles out, blowing hot air onto Grave as they speak, making Grave need to suppress her urge to giggle.

“I know!! I know I need it but I can’t do it right now. If I do it them I’ll get in trouble and I don’t need the head scientist going off on me.” Grave explains.

“J e f f   w o u l d   a g r e e.” The cryptid counters as it gently sniffs Grave, able to sense her tired state much more clearly now. Grave groans, sliding down onto the floor.

“Oh, please don’t pull the Jeff card on me. I don’t wanna think of worrying him, that’s almost as bas as worrying you!” She exclaims as the cryptid grumbles, leaning down to be as close to Grave as they could get comfortably.

“S l e e p   i m p o r t a n t.” The cryptid clarifies in a stern tone as it watches Grave on the floor.

“So it work!” Grave exclaims, raising her arms as she sighs sadly. “As much as I’d love to listen to you and sleep until next century, I gotta work or else I can get fired and them I won’t see you guys anymore!” She explains, the cryptid huffing as it seemingly gives in, nodding gently as it falls silent, making Grave smile as she gets up.

“Thank you, I’ll try to be as quick and as good as possible so I can go home and rest!” Grave reassures, heading back over to her desk. She places her hands on the desk, not moving as she thinks, the cryptid watching her from its position on the floor, not wanting to get involved, but keeping a keen eye on Grave in case something were to go wrong.

After what could have been a few minutes, Grave grabs a ball from the table she is seated at, throwing it near the cage to enact the next test, which has to do with their reflexes. The larger cryptid jumps, the smaller one staying stationary, not bothered with the test. Though the fast motion of the ball made it almost impossible for the slightly sight impaired cryptid to see it, it knew the test well, so the ball didn’t shock them.

Grave begins to walk around the room again, moving from corner to corner, trying to keep herself moving to prevent herself from getting tired. The smaller cryptid notices her moving, its ears flipping up as it watches her.

Grave stops walking, instead running over to her desk, where she begins bouncing, trying to keep her heart beating fast to stay awake. The small cryptid continues to watch, its concern only growing as it watches the small human.

The cryptid can start to sense the human’s need for sleep as Grave shakes her head quickly, sitting down and throwing papers around as she searches for a test to do. This new information makes the cryptids ears lay flat as it watches her.

“Ah, fuck it. Y’know what, lets um…” Grave trails off as she dismisses the last test, a movement mimic test to see if the cryptids could mimic human movements, her hands shaking a lot as she panics. The cryptids pick up on this, the smaller one moving slightly at this, making a low noise to signify its concern.

“U-Um…” Grave grips onto her shirt, twisting it between her fingers as she closes her eyes, her mind going blank except for the panic she was currently feeling. The smaller cryptid sits up now, making a cooing noise to try and calm Grave down as it taps its fingers gently on the floor.

Grave fights with herself, her panic rising as she argues with herself, telling herself she had to work so she didn’t disappoint anyone or worry anyone, but also knowing she needed sleep. The smaller cryptid does something Grave had never heard before, whining gently, its ears flat against its head as it taps on the floor, looking at Grave.

“Whats wrong?” Grave asks as she frowns, looking at the cryptid, so much more concerned about them than herself. The small cryptid continues to whine as it watches Grave, leaning down to be more on her level as it taps on the floor. Grave wanders over to the cryptid, looking at them with a lot of concern.

“I-Is something wrong?” She questions, completely forgetting her own needs to worry about the cryptid, who whines slightly quieter. It begins pushing its head against the bars of the cage, showing Grave that it wants to be closer to her.

“Could you show me what’s wrong? Like, d-does something hurt?” Grave questions as she pets the cryptid gently, huffing as the cryptid leans into her touch, whimpering quietly. It sniffs Grave gently as it reaches its hand out from the cage towards her.

Grave takes the cryptids hand as her worry grows, the cryptid gently lifting Grave into the cage, allowing Grave to stand on top of its hand as the larger cryptid joins in making small noises.

Grave continues to worry, her brain screaming at her as it increases quickly. The smaller cryptid notices this and both stop making their noises of distress, the small one instead pressing its forehead against Grave’s in a gentle touch.

Grave calms almost immediately at the head touch form the cryptid, though some worry still remains as she does. The cryptid keeps their foreheads pressed together in a gentle touch as it begins to make some cooing noises, sounding soft and calm.

Grave feels better, the sweet noises making her feel happier as the cryptid carefully sits her down in its hands, keeping their heads close together as the soft noises start to form a melody of sorts.

Grave gets very calm as she listens to the song, feeling slightly sleepy as the large cryptid holds her gently in its hands. The melody becomes even softer, the calming noises it was making strung together in a song that somehow managed to work.

Grave happily sits down in the large cryptids hand, feeling sleepy as it carefully moves one of its hands to support Grave, making sure she wouldn’t fall over and risk hurting herself. It continues with its song, its ears flicking around slightly as it continues to press their heads together gently, being very gentle with Grave.

Grave gets increasingly more sleepy as the song goes on, lying down in the cryptids hand as it coos gently, leaning to give Grave a gentle kiss on the head as it holds her in its hands.

Grave gives a small gasp of happiness as she falls asleep, the cryptid gently huffing, checking that Grave was properly asleep before moving further back in the cage to keep the small human warm and comfortable.

 Grave doesn’t wake until the morning, after her shift had ended. She had been laid between the two giant cryptids, resting in the fur on the smaller one as the two cryptids, being nocturnal beings, sleep through the morning.

Grave looks around herself, confused, as all she is able to see is fur. There is no light to be seen around her, no sky, only fur enveloping her in her tired and confused state. The smaller cryptid, whose fur she was in, huffs gently in its sleep, moving slightly as it twitches its ears.

Grave tries to get out of the fur containing her, finding it difficult, as there was so much on the cryptids arm where she had been located, the cryptid holding the arm away from its body so it wouldn’t risk crushing the small human. Though the cryptid doesn’t move as Grave tries to get out of its fur, it does release a very small low noise as it feels her moving.

Grave moves slower as she tries to get out of the fur, not wanting to wake up the cryptid, who doesn’t move as she wriggles her way out of its fur, breathing lightly in its sleep.

Grave pulls herself out of the fur, now beginning to process what was happening, panic starting to rise in her brain. Neither cryptid wakes up, deeply asleep as the sun streams in through the windows, though the smaller one does shift slightly at Grave’s absence, noticing the weight difference. But neither one stirs, leaving Grave effectively alone.

Grave can hear footsteps coming towards the lab she was in, making her panic rise as her heart beats fast inside her chest as she tries to keep her composure. Her high level of stress registers to the still sleeping cryptids, who quietly whine in their sleep.

Grave’s chest hurts from her heart beating a mile a minute as she hides in the fur of the smaller cryptid once again, the cryptid twitching its ears as it feels her touch it again, whining quietly at all the stress it could sense coming from Grave.

Grave curls up inside the fur as she waits for the pain in her chest to die down, listening as the door to the lab opens, the footsteps of one of her co-workers stepping inside. Grave can hear them walking around, presumably scanning the lab and its condition as they wander over to Grave’s desk, checking over her work and notes from the night shift.

“She must’ve gone already…” She can hear their voice as they mutter, wandering around the room once more to double-check before more footsteps and the sound of the shutting door indicates to Grave that they have left the room, apparently satisfied with whatever they had found.

As soon as Grave hears the door shut behind whoever had entered, she removes one of her hands form the fur she was embedded in, flipping off the door. Despite her current panic, her disdain for her co-workers forced her to be vulgar as the cryptid shifts in its sleep, changing positions ever so slightly, still able to feel the panic radiating off of the small human.

Grave tries to distract from her panic with pain, biting down on her hand, eliciting a string of softer noises from the cryptid above her, who seemed to be trying to calm her, even in its sleep.

The noise brings a small sense of calm to Grave’s panic, the cryptid continuing to make small soft noises, one of its hands shifting in its sleep to be close to Grave.

Grave calms down more as she grips onto one of the fingers of the cryptids hand, another one coming to stroke Grave’s head gently to try and calm her more.

Grave grows more calm and happy as she closes her eyes, the cryptid continuing to stroke her head as it makes a low chirping noise, curling around Grave instinctively in a protective manner.

Grave gently pets the cryptid, feeling much happier and safer as the cryptid lets out a quiet purr like sound at the touch, ears flicking around as it snorts gently, blowing hot air onto Grave.

Grave giggles, pressing her head to the cryptids head as it sniffs her slightly. The cryptid whines in response, its ears flicking around as it leans its head into Grave gently, the cryptid feeling guilty about forcing the small human to sleep, subconsciously acting on that guilt, and the worry that Grave was mad at them as it sleeps.

Grave gives the cryptid a small kiss on the head, giggling slightly as the cryptid grumbles, face scrunching a little as it huffs in its sleep.

“It’s okay.” Grave reassures the cryptid in a soft voice, smiling as its ears flick as the cryptid curls up more in its sleep. Its eyelids flutter as it presumably dreams.

Grave stops petting the cryptid, laying down as her feet tap on the floor, the large cryptid using one of its hands as a makeshift blanket for Grave, curling around her as if to keep her safe, allowing Grave to happily fall asleep again.

The next time she wakes up, her next night shift is afoot, and she seems to have been placed outside of the cage by one of the two cryptids, lying on a makeshift bed they had made for her.

“Thanks…” Grave whispers in a tired voice, not moving from the bed, finding it far too comfortable. As she looks towards the cryptids, she can see that the larger one is now awake; watching her while the smaller one seems to still be very deep in sleep, despite being a nocturnal creature.

Grave rubs her eyes with one of her hands, waving to the larger cryptid with the other happily. The larger cryptid silently watches her, flicking its ears around as it tilts its head, eyes flicking quickly to look at the smaller cryptid before moving back to watch Grave again.

“Thanks for like… the bed thingy. It’s very comfy.” Grave says softly, smiling as the cryptid huffs, nodding slightly as it moves in the cage to be closer to the bars, squinting at Grave to see better as it moves.

“Did you sleep okay?” Grave questions as she raises her arms, the larger cryptid tilting its head as it barks its confirmation, leaning down in the cage for a better view of Grave as it communicates with her.

“That’s good!!! I’m glad you sleepy okay.” Grave says happily as the cryptid gives a small chirp in response, sniffing the air to confirm for itself that Grave was indeed okay and happy.

“Lorge… sniff boi. Go sniff snoff.” Grave lowers her hands, smiling. The larger cryptid snorts at this, shaking its head around, making its ears flip around as well as it watches Grave with intense eyes.

“Aaaaaaaa I… love you, you big dorks. All of you are lorge and dork bois. So cool.” Grave says, her voice a mixture of happy and sleepy, the cryptid tilting its head as it listens, not recognising all of the words being spoken, but recognising the positive meaning behind them, giving off a small chirp as a response, Grave gasping softly.

“Chirps!!!!! Good noise. I like it, thank you for making the nice chirps.” Grave smiles, watching as the cryptid makes a soft beeping noise in response. It brings its hands to its face, cleaning it by mussing the fur around to rid it of dirt, squishing its face around slightly as it does so.

Grave giggles at the funny sight in front of her, making the cryptid huff as it lets go of its face, pawing gently at the floor instead, tilting its head again as it watches Grave, who gets slightly closer to it.

“Head touchies please!” Grave requests, wanting the comforting touch. The cryptid looks at her in confusion, pressing its head against the bars of the cage, illustrating how it couldn’t leave to fulfil her request.

“Oh.” Grave slowly gets up, taking out the keys to the cage, the cryptid looking at her in surprise, backing up slightly as she approaches the cage.

“Once Rad wakes up, you guys can wander around the place.” Grave smiles as she unlocks the cage, using her nicknames she had developed for the cryptids, calling the smaller one ‘Rad’ and the larger one ‘Badass’. “Head touchies!” She reminds the cryptid, who seems to falter for a moment before it leans down, pressing their foreheads together gently.

Grave grips her shirt as her feet start tapping on the floor in happiness. The larger cryptid pulls back, flapping its ears as it looks down at Grave.

“Big boi!!!” Grave says as she pets the cryptids fur, who huffs gently as it allows her to, shifting its eyes around the room as she strokes its fur.

“!!!!!” Grave gently flops into the cryptids fur, saying something that the fur muffles, the cryptid leaning back slightly, tilting its head in a question as it looks down at her.

“I! Love! You!” Grave says happily, her heart beating faster in a good way. But the cryptid in front of her whines gently, not looking at her as it flicks its eyes around.

Grave isn’t thinking, feeling far too happy as she gently bites down on her hand, careful not to apply too much pressure. The cryptid whines quietly as it looks around the room, unsure of what to do, not wanting to worry the small human in front of it.

Grave is too focused on the happiness she feels and the fur she was currently petting to be worried, too happy to pay attention. The larger cryptid notices this, ceasing its whining, becoming silent in hopes that the situation might fix itself.

“…Handsome boi. Yee.” Grave looks at the cryptids face, too happy to think straight as it looks down at her silently as she pets it, flicking its ears around to prevent them from lying flat against its skull.

“Why are your ears dancing? They’re going all flippy floppy flappin.” Grave questions, the cryptid remaining silent as it stops flicking its ears, allowing them to rest in what was currently their natural position, lying flat against its head.

“Oh, I guess the rave is over.” Grave says as she slides down to the floor, the cryptid whining gently, clearly feeling sorry for the small human.

“Its okay, you big dork.” Grave giggles, petting the large cryptid, whose ears continue to lie flat as its whining gets slightly louder.

“Do you have ouch?” Grave asks with slight concern, looking up at the cryptid, who shakes its head, though its ears don’t move from their laid back positions as it continues to whine.

“Want me to check the heartbeat?” Grace asks, trying to stop the cryptids worry. It nods, though it continues to whine at a low pitch. Grave wanders over to the smaller cryptid, checking its pulse.

“Its nice and normal!” She reassures the larger cryptid, who frowns.

“S l e e p   t o o   l o n g.” The cryptid speaks in a low voice, an action it never did. The larger of the two was especially nervous about speaking, and would avoid it at all costs.

“I think putting me to sleep made them sleepy, so that could be why.” Grave explains, shrugging as the large cryptid huffs. It gently places its fingers over Grave’s ears before letting out a loud scream like noise directed at the smaller cryptid, who doesn’t even flinch.

Grave doesn’t breathe; too busy laughing as the cryptid removes its fingers from her ears, looking down at her as it lets out a louder whine, concerned, though Grave is laughing too much to see it.

“Okay, cool. I didn’t laugh. Didn’t even giggle.” She says as she finishes laughing, the larger cryptid growling gently, unamused and worried.

“Didn’t even smile. I never smile.” Grave crosses her arms, trying to look serious. But the cryptid growls louder, the fur on its back standing up in hackles as it backs away from Grave.

Grave begins to worry, her brain hurting slightly as the cryptid continues to growl, though it lowers the volume a little bit as it looks to the smaller cryptid, keeping away from Grave slightly.

Grave worries more as the cryptid digs at the floor in a nervous action as it growls, the growls now being directed at the smaller cryptid. The more Grave thinks, the more sense it began to make. It seemed the two cryptids had completed her work for her, doing the tests and recording the results. In the tests for that night, there was a tranquilliser resistance test. While the larger cryptid would likely only be affected a little bit, the much smaller cryptid would react more severely.

Grave practically runs to her desk in a slight panic to grab her adrenaline shot to help the cryptid out of what was practically a drug induced coma, the larger cryptid watching her as its ears stand up, moving slightly closer to the other cryptid.

Grave runs back over to the smaller cryptid, inserting the needle through the fur into the skin of its neck for a direct delivery, pressing down to inject the liquid.

“Hhhh, come on.” Grave says, panicking slightly, but feeling a little calmer now that the adrenaline would start circulating around the cryptids bloodstream. The cryptid doesn’t move for a minute as the injection starts to circulate its blood. Eventually it does twitch slightly, its eyes half opening, Grave gasping quietly.

“Fuck yeah!!!” Grave exclaims happily, the cryptid staying silent, its eyes adjusting so it can see Grave. The smaller cryptid lets out a gentle whine as its eyes focus, still feeling some of the effects of all the drugs in his system.

Grave taps her feet in happiness as the cryptid sniffs quietly, partially refusing to get up, giving the rest of the drugs time to be removed from its system.

Grave grips onto her shirt, her brain screaming in a good way as the larger cryptid lets out a happy chirp from behind her, the smaller one flinching at the noise.

Grave sits down, trying to stop the tapping of her feet as the cryptid watches her. After a minute of sitting with it, the cryptid leans forward on the floor, gently licking Grave as a sign of thanks.

Grave looks surprised at first, but it quickly melts into an elated smile as the cryptid reaches out one of its hands, gently petting her head in a kind manner. They stay like that for the rest of the shift, calm and happy with each other as the cryptid slowly calms down, Grave smiling and giggling almost the entire time as the two cryptids dote on her, only making their bond closer.

[smllgrlbigwrld]

Harry & Y/N don’t talk, but when he offers to be her bf she thinks its not that crazy.

Hello! This lil story just popped into my head and I was like I gotta write it! I was mainly inspired by “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” Just a different concept obvs. I hope you enjoy! :)

They aren’t best friends, but yet they aren’t strangers. They were more like acquaintances. On the occasion they would exchange small side hugs or give each other a welcoming smile whenever they’d cross paths, to be friendly of course. But they never really conversed. Usually whenever Harry went out to a party or to a bar with some of his close friends, she’d be there too because of mutual friends they had.

Harry never really thought about her, but he wondered who she was or how she knew some of his best friends. Y/N knew who he was though, how could she not. She genuinely enjoyed Harry’s presence. She enjoyed his music and the way he carried himself whether it was on stage or in the comfort of their friends.

Harry didn’t mind her presence either, but there was always some sort of quietness around them. They had never made an effort to get to know each other on a personal level. Most of the time they would crack jokes, share crazy experiences they had, or play a game of pool, but they were never alone doing these things, it was always amongst the few friends they shared.

Sometimes he would stand off to the side somewhere and scroll through his phone, watch his mates from afar play an intense game of pool, or he’d just walk away to grab a snack off the table at a party he wanted to desperately leave because he was tired. Those were the moments his friends would take advantage of. They’d walk up to him and nudge his hip, causing him to turn around at them raising his eyebrows in slight annoyance.

And this time, Harry was at the snack table for the third time already grabbing whatever was splayed out across the table. He feels someone grab his hip a little too harshly. It was Jeff.

“H, why don’t you walk yourself over there and have a chat with Y/N? She seems pretty bored, just like you apparently, this is like the millionth time you’ve came to this table already.”

Harry looks at him with a tight lipped expression, and furrows his brows. He’s staring intently at Jeff, perplexity written all over his face. “What?”

“I said go on over towards Y/N, the girl in the black dre--”

Harry quickly interrupts him. “No, no I know man I heard you. But we hardly know each other.. don’t really know what we’d talk about, she’s just a mutual friend really.”

“Oh c’mon! How can you possible say you don’t know what to talk about, sure you do! You talk to pretty much everyone. You’re a natural H!” Jeff says with a scoff.

He chuckles and his eyes go over to scan Y/N. She’s sitting on a white stool at the small bar in the kitchen and her eyes are a bit droopy. He knows she’s tired because she’s facing some friends that are sitting on the floor watching them play some sort of card game with a very unamused look.

“Y’know what? M’so fuckin’ bored, why not.” He huffs defeatingly and walks over towards Y/N. Jeff pats his back and laughs, already rooting for him.

Harry wasn’t shy necessarily. He just never initiated a conversation with her and she never had either so he figured maybe it was best they were just casual acquaintances. He didn’t know her at all so the only thing he could do was assume and vice versa.

He taps her shoulder with a small bit of force and she quickly looks over at him, a bit startled. “It’s Y/N, right? Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughs at the way her eyes go wide and sits down next to her.

“Oh.. hey there Harry! Y-yes thats my name. No worries, you just scared me a bit!” She faces him and smiles widely. “How are you doing?” Her eyes blink rapidly because she’s still a bit shaken up at the way he approached her.

He gives a short laugh. “I’m great, a bit tired but s’all good. You?”

“Oh gosh me too!” She smiles lazily.

He decides to just come on out and ask her since he was curious as to why she was just as bored as he was.“Sooo, why aren’t you playing with them?” he says motioning towards the many people sitting in a circle on the carpet playing a game, their loud voices and laughs filling up the room.

Her lips go into a pout and she furrows her brows. “I-umm-I don’t really feel like being here to be honest with you. I’m exhausted. I’ve been out and about with one of my friends all day, did some catching up or whatever, and then I kinda got dragged back here without a say in it.” Her chest rises up and down, her shoulders slump just a tad bit and she lets out a huff through her nose. “I’ve just been sitting here scrolling through my phone every once in awhile, but even doing that bores me so, sitting and staring at them it is.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh and crosses his arms. “I know what y’mean. It’s just been a long day and I’d really love to go home and sleep.” He gives her a confused look. “But wait..why don’t you just go to the backyard? I seen quite a few of your friends back there. You avoiding someone out there or what?” He snorts and looks at her with the most puzzled face.

She groans and turns around in her seat, her elbows rest on the tables and her hands are covering her face. “Oh my gosh, I actually am. Is it that obvious?”

“W-what? No I mean I was just joking around love, but I just thought it was a bit strange that you’re sitting here obviously bored and sleepy, but all your mates are right out back!” He says with a raised but playful voice.

Y/N lifts up from her elbows and turns back in her seat to look at Harry. She licks her lips and her eyes are rapidly looking around him as if she was trying to avoid something or someone. She breathes heavily. “Yeah..I know. It’s just..I have this friend and h-he keeps trying to talk to me. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes in frustration. “He doesn’t get it through his thick skull that I am absolutely NOT interested in anything he has to say or offer.”

He stares at her intently as she opens her eyes and puts her hands back down into her lap. She notices he’s staring at her a bit wide-eyed so she stares back at him and tilts her head to the side. “W-what? Oh no. Is he in here?” Her voice comes out shaky and she freezes up where she is.

He has a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Y/N you didn’t even tell me who he was, how would I know if he was in here?”

“Oh yeah huh.” She laughs and puts a hand over her forehead as she realizes this. “Well, it’s Lukas. You ever see him? He’s literally always around me, doesn’t matter where the hell I am, he manages to tag along with my other friends. He has jet black hair, wears glasses, and has a birthmar--”

He cuts her off as soon as he realizes who she’s referring to. “A birthmark near his nose! Yeaah I’ve seen him plenty of times. Most of the time actually. Is he bothering you or...?”

Her face illuminates and whatever drowsiness she felt earlier was now down the drain. “Yes! I mean yes that’s him but no he doesn’t try anything but I just reallyyy don’t want to talk to him. He’s a cool guy sure, but no means...no. Ya know? I don’t know he’s just a bit bumptious.” She murmurs. “I’m not really looking for a relationship right now but he just thinks he’s the shit and that he can win me over eventually..”

He scrunches his nose.“Egotistical huh?” What a dickhead. But.. what if I were to propose an offer to you?” He sneers at her and she eyeballs him as if he was crazy.

She cocks an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you proposing Harry? I hardly know you. What makes you think I won’t second guess whatever it is you’re scheming?”

As much as they were strangers, Y/N can’t help but note how comfortable it was to talk and be around him. Why didn’t they ever talk on a one on one level they both wonder.

He snickers faintly but his demeanor changes and it’s more serious this time. “So, this Lukas guy. Y’said he wants to be in a relationship with you so…” He stops and analyzes her expression, he’s trying to determine whether or not she’s catching on to his idea.

Y/N is clueless until it finally hits her. He wanted them to pretend date and get Lukas jealous, probably get him a bit riled up. “Wait. Harry? No way r-really!? She reiterates and her mouth is hung open, shock all over her face. “No you’re messing with me! You’ve gotta be Harry!”

He looks at her with a straight face. He doesn’t know whats gotten into him but he was so bored, he would kill to do anything a bit more fun than what he was just doing a few minutes ago. “It’s not that crazy Y/N! It’s just for show. M’doing you a favor aren’t I? We can do what you’re comfortable with alright? Hold hands, give quick pecks on the cheek, and I-I guess act like we’ve always been close y’know? I doubt he’ll notice that we’ve never really spoken, you said so yourself, he’s self-absorbed.”

Y/N looks down towards her wedged heels and bites the inside of her cheek. She’s in deep thought until she finally speaks up. “Hmph. I mean it’s not all that bad, he is really annoying and I’d love to keep him out of my hair. But how does this even work? Where do we even start? This is the first time we’ve held a conversation for more than 5 mi--””

He grabs her hand in a fast motion which causes her to stand up from the stool. Y/N is surprised at his sudden movement and stays silent, waiting for him to explain himself. Determination is spread across his face. “Okay I know it’s a bit mad but look just trust me! Just c’mon Y/N!” He gives her a smug smirk. “Or should I say…Babe.”

//

Thanks for reading! Let me know if I should make a part 2. I’m thinking about ideas regardless but it is nice to get confirmations / feedback!! 

**part 2 is up!!**

[xaz-fr]

Hello! I've been following you for a while and wanting to get into your lore. Where should I start?

Sorry, I was playing ‘Antidepressant the game’ aka Slime Rancher for the past literally 10 hours.

edit: Tumblr apparently doesn’t wanna allow you to read more on asks. Fine. Fuck you too Tumblr.

The way I did it is come up with a very very basic idea/concept/aesthetic. And it should hopefully fit what your dragons already look like or what you’re into but it doesn’t have to.

I started my clan with the simple idea of ‘swamp witches’ because I was missing my home state of Florida and love the aesthetic of Old Florida and gators and the everglades. And that’s why Layali looks the way she did when we lived in Light.

She radiates the idea of a swamp witch while herself not actually being one (she’s a seer but whatever). And from there I slowly built out my clan. And it should be noted; I grew my clan VERY slowly compared to how some people *cough @golden-lionsnake cough* buy dragons left and right. I didn’t buy my first permanent dragon for like a MONTH.

and when I did buy a dragon i asked myself ‘what does a swamp full of witches need?’. Well... herbs for starters, and plants, so probably a garden/farm land of sorts. Which is where Spayar came in

and he’s a druid, living in a swamp, and still kinda witchy, right? At the very least he fits the aesthetic idea I was going for.

And then from there if I bought a dragon they needed a purpose. Even if the purpose was ‘guard’ or ‘huntsman’ or ‘another witch’ because you gotta actually have witches in a swamp witch style lore. And I made everyone do something different. And when everyone does something different they interact in different ways. Like how does the adopted daughter of one of the sort of clan leaders interact with a roving fire spirit? (which I did have for a time). Or how do the druids interact with the witches? How do guards work in a swamp of a tiny clan that has no enemies or allies? What about as they start to get larger and make friends?

I built my Manor sub clan the same way. I bought the Master, gened him, and just had him around. 

I then, later, decided I needed more general fodder. So I bought a bunch of fodder pairs. And I had always thought that a dragon named the Master might maybe not really be a sort of weird cult leader? And what he actually is now isn’t that far off. He’s... the owner of a bunch of concubines: my fodder pairs. So I gave my otherwise loreless fodder breeders lore by connecting ALL of them to the Master as parts of his collection and they all live in his big manor (hence the subclan name) and he provides everything for them they just have to maintain the house and entertain him (which is sometimes fucking and sometimes playing music or cooking him food or bringing him nice flowers or fighting wild animals or making beautiful art or dancing). The aesthetic is literally ‘Jeff Goldblum Grandmaster style book collector has a bunch of hot young dragons who like to fuck.’

Carrion Roost is similar (name subject to change bleh) except a littttle different. I had OCs I made into dragons and was like ‘well now what’. Well they’re canonically vampires. So. I made some pseudo-vampire dragons called the Prime Hunters. So my aesthetic for them is literally just ‘does it LOOK like a vampire? It’s a vampire’. And lore builds itself out from there with born Hunters and turned Hunters and Hunters who were chased from their origin points and ones who wandered and ones who despite everything aren’t that bad they’re just so very hungry sometimes and then some who are just ABSOLUTE awful little goblins.

Cahya is the former and then Evit here is the little awful goblin

Also final tips

I didn’t just stumble upon my lore all at once. It took me *looks how old their progen is* nearly two years to get to where I am now with my lore and only recently have I really expanded my lore beyond Cypress Hall. Until tabs and the Den came out I was a SINGLE CLAN lair. No extra sub clans or clans in other flights. I put all of my ideas into one clan. And yeah my clan had cliches and niches and such but they all knew they were the same clan, that they all were part of Cypress Hall. Also I’ve been world building for 10+ years at this sort of mini macro level and can literally come up with an entire plot line for a story in 3 hours with like a one sentence prompt. So I’ve got a LOT of practice.

When you do start writing lore (or even just thinking about it) WRITE SOME FUCKING NOTES. Don’t make me come to your house with a spoon and smack your hands for not taking notes down IMPORTANT story elements or neat little details. I am my own worst enemy and don’t take notes until after I’ve written like... 30k worth of shit. Don’t be like me. Write fucking notes as you write, I swear to the Eleven.

and lastly: everyone does it different. I know people who use webs and make wikis and all those great character and world tracker sites, and timelines to plan their stuff. And that’s great. I am so glad that that stuff exists for people who use it. I cannot use them. It’s too tedious and slow for me. It’s too confining. I want a bulleted list of information I can scan through and find. I don’t like having pages and pages of stuff with a few paragraphs per page otherwise I feel like it’s a waste of time to do it. To be quite honest: I just remember this shit. I hardly write anything down anymore. I just have an encyclopedia of every story I’ve put time and effort into in my brain for quick access whenever I need and my lists and notes are there for me to check spellings mostly or be my backup drive for bullshit fake names or be a map.

So while you can use my method you should realize it isn’t for everyone and just because you can’t do it my way doesn’t mean you can’t. You just need to do it in a way that makes sense for you. Or maybe you wanna Dr. Frankenstein that shit and take parts of stuff I’m telling you and parts of stuff other people are telling you and form a thing you like. Totally valid. Any way of figuring your lore is valid.

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Another One Bites The Dust (AOBTD) ~ Chapter 11

Warning(s): Language. Fluff - lots and lots of fluff. Mentions of bullying.

Taglist: @negans-network , @thamberlina , @prettyboynegan , @mychemicalimagines

Previous Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Chapter 11 ~ My Little Girl

“Hey! There’s my sweet little girl!”

I hear Angel’s sweet, innocent giggle fill the room as Jeffrey walks in. She runs over to him from where she was sitting beside me on the bed. Luckily, I just finished braiding her hair.

“Daddy!” She squeals, happily.

I smile. Angel jumps up into Jeffrey’s outstretched arms. He hugs her tightly before kissing her cheek.

“Hey, baby girl.” He says.

She just giggles and clings to him, nestling her face into his neck. I guess she whispers something to him, ‘cause he just chuckles and murmurs something into her ear. He makes his way over to where I’m sitting on the bed. He settles down next to me, still holding Angel in his arms. 

I look up at my husband. He just gives me a dimpled smile as he leans in to kiss me.

“How’s my other girl doin’?” He drawls, softly, after the kiss.

I smile. “I’m good. Better now that you’re home. I’ll be perfect once Tim gets home too.”

He chuckles. “Did you miss your boys today, baby?”

I nod. “Of course I did.”

He smiles. “I missed my girls today too.”

I snuggle up to him, and rest my head on his shoulder. Angel sits back in his lap and looks at us.

“How was your day, pumpkin?” Jeffrey asks.

She shrugs. “It was ok. I guess.”

“You guess? What’s wrong?”

She hesitates. “Why do kids have to be so mean?”

I look up to see my husband’s brow furrow. “What do you mean, baby girl? Who’s being mean to you?”

“Mark…”

Jeffrey looks at me, questioningly. “Mark?”

I shrug. “I don’t know who that is. Maybe a new kid? I know there were some new kids that came in with the new group a few days ago.”

Jeffrey looks back at Angel. “Who’s Mark, sweetie?”

“He’s a new kid. He started classes yesterday. He’s seven and really mean.” The little girl replies.

“What’d he do?”

“He said some really mean stuff.”

“Like?”

“You, mommy, and daddy weren’t my really mommy and daddies. There was no way you could be. I’m too dark to be yours.”

“Oh baby girl.”

“But. I know he’s lying. You are my mommy and daddies.”

“Yes, we are, baby girl.”

“Even though my skin’s darker than yours?”

Jeffrey nods. “Yes, baby girl. Even though your skin is a wee bit darker than ours, you’re still our little girl.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart. Don’t listen to him. Ok?”

“Ok, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

She giggles and hugs Jeffrey before she leans towards me, while still staying in his lap. She wraps her arms ‘round my neck, and I hug her back.

“I love you too, mommy.” She tells me, softly.

“I love you, munchkin.” I say, kissing her forehead before she can pull away.

She curls back up in Jeffrey’s arms. He tightens his arms ‘round her, and rubs her back. She dozes off. He looks at me.

“I have half a mind to go talk to this little punk who’s bullying her.” He says, quietly.

“Honey. He’s seven. You can’t fight a kid.” I say.

“I don’t care. No one needs to be picking on our little girl.”

“I know, hon. But, you really can’t fight a child. I wouldn’t approve. Tim wouldn’t approve. And, your brother wouldn’t approve. You know he’d have to punish you if you did.”

Jeffrey sighs. “I know you’re right, doll. But…part of me can’t help it. I just want to protect her. And, it doesn’t matter if she’s not ours biologically. She’s still our little girl.”

“She is. Ever since we took her in, she’s been our little girl. I love the fact that you want to protect her, and you’re right, no one should bully her. But, you can’t just go off fighting a seven-year-old. Maybe we can talk to the kid, get him to lay off. If he doesn’t, we can talk to Negan and see what he suggests. But, I can’t take the chance of losing you, or having you hurt. And, just because you’re Negan’s brother doesn’t mean you’re untouchable. None of us are.”

“You’re right. If the kid doesn’t stop, though, you can guaran-fuckin’-tee I’m gonna do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

“I know you will, Jeff baby. That’s one reason why I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you too.”

I hear the door open and close softly as I kiss him. I feel the bed dip down on my other side and arms wrap ‘round me.

“Hey, darlin’.” I hear Tim murmur as his lips drift over my shoulder.

I pull back from Jeffrey and look at my other husband. He smiles as he lifts his head up. I kiss him softly.

“Hi, babe.” I murmur against his lips.

The four of us stay on the bed together. It’s nice and relaxing. I catch Tim up on what Angel told Jeffrey and I a little bit ago. He goes all protective father too, and I have to tell him the same thing I told Jeffrey. Eventually, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“C’mon in.” Tim calls.

The door opens and Negan steps into our room, closing the door behind him. He’s barefoot, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. He pads over to the bed and sits on the edge of it. He runs a hand through his hair as he glances at Angel and a smile erupts on his face. 

He looks up at my husbands and I.

“Can I talk to y’all ‘bout somethin’?” He asks.

“Of course. What’s up?” I ask.

He sighs. “It’s come to my attention that someone’s been bullyin’ little Angel here.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Let me guess…Mark?”

Negan looks surprised. “You know?”

“Angel just told us ‘bout an hour or so ago.” Jeffery says.

“And, y’all didn’t come to me?”

“I had to talk these two down from doin’ somethin’ as stupid as fightin’ a child. They get real protective over her.” I say.

“They have every right to. She’s precious. And she’s family.” Negan says softly.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean that they can go and fight a child. I don’t want ‘em to get punished for it.”

“Fuck.” Negan sighs. “You’re right. Even though y’all are my brothers, there’d have to be some sort of punishment for hurtin’ a child. Besides, I don’t tolerate hurtin’ kids.”

“Exactly.”

“While I don’t tolerate hurtin’ women or children, I also don’t tolerate bullyin’. I dealt with ‘nough of that shit back when I was a history teacher. And, I always shut that shit down. But…it’s not like we can just send the kid to detention…oh wait. I can. I guess I’m the fuckin’ principal now, eh?”

This gets a chuckle from us. Negan cracks a small smile.

“I can put the kid in ‘detention’ and have him run laps or some shit. Or write 200 sentences on why bullying is wrong.” Negan says.

“Spoken like a true teacher.” I tease.

“It’s what I’d fuckin’ do.” Jeffrey says. “Make the little shit run laps, do sit-ups, have him do our version of that godawful Pacer test bullshit that the administration used to make us have the kids do once a month.”

“God. I fuckin’ hated that shit. The kids who had gym right before comin’ to my class almost always fell asleep ‘cause they were so worn out from that shit.” Negan says.

“Same. I can’t tell you how many kids I had fall asleep in my class after they had to do that.” Tim agrees.

“Ok…so maybe we don’t have the kid do the Pacer test itself – that shit’s fuckin’ brutal, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But, maybe we can do somethin’ similar. And, each time he bullies Angel, or any other kid for that matter, he has to do whatever we set up as our Pacer test? And the same would go for any other kid who bullies.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Who are you gonna have watch the kid while he’s in ‘detention’?” Jeffrey asks.

Negan smirks as he looks at his brother. I look up at my husband. He’s gone pale.

“Oh hell fuckin’ no. I done did my time watchin’ those little heathens run ‘round.” He mutters.

“Exactly. You have the experience. You know what to do. You’d be in charge.” Negan promises.

“No.”

“Please, bro? I don’t trust anyone else to do this. They’d either be too lax or too harsh with the kids.”

Jeffrey sighs. “Fine. But, you owe me.”

“Deal. Whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I expect nothin’ else.”

Angel stirs in Jeffrey’s arms. He rubs her back as she lifts her head up and rubs her eyes.

“Hey, baby girl.” He murmurs softly.

“Hi, daddy.” She mumbles, sleepily.

Jeffrey reaches up and brushes her hair out of her eyes. He kisses her cheek, which has her giggling. She looks over at me and sees Tim sitting beside me. Her face lights up.

“Daddy!” She squeals.

Tim chuckles. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you have a good nap?”

She nods as she clambers out of Jeffrey’s lap, over me, and settles down in Tim’s lap, laying her head against his chest as she tries to wrap her arms ‘round his upper torso.

He hugs her close to him.

“Hey, little Angel.” Negan says, softly.

She lifts her head up off Tim’s chest to look at her uncle.

“Uncle Nehan!” She says, excitedly. “You’re here!”

He chuckles. “I am.”

She jumps up outta Tim’s arms and launches herself at Negan. He has to grip the comforter on our bed tightly to keep himself from falling off and into the floor. He obviously wasn’t expecting her to do that.

He laughs as his arms wrap ‘round her. “Did you miss me or something’, munchkin?”

She nods. “I did. I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’m sorry, little one. I’ve been busy.”

“It’s ok.”

“I got you somethin’.”

“You did?”

He nods. “It’s a surprise, though. I gotta go get it from my room real quick. Ok?”

“Ok.”

He kisses her forehead before setting her on the blanket.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He says.

“I won’t.” She promises.

Negan leaves the room and walks down the hallway to his own room. Within a few minutes, he’s returned, holding something behind his back. Angel moves to the end of the bed, looking up at him. He walks over and kneels before her.

“Close your eyes.” He says.

I guess she does, ‘cause Negan moves his hand from behind his back. In his grasp is a blue plastic, whiffle ball bat. Wrapped ‘round the top of it is some string that looks like it’s been glued on to keep it in place. He lays the plastic bat across his knee.

“Ok. You can open your eyes now.” He says.

I can tell that Angel does as he says ‘cause I hear her let out an excited squeal.

“It’s for me?” She asks.

Negan nods and grin. “It is. You have your very own Lucille now.”

She wraps her arms ‘round his neck. “Thank you, Uncle Nehan.”

“You’re more than welcome, kiddo. You are my favorite little niece after all.”

She giggles. “I’m your only one.”

“Yep. And even if you had a bunch of sisters, you’d still be my favorite.”

She giggles even more. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now, c’mon. Give your Lucille a swing.”

Angel hops down off the bed and takes the plastic bat from her uncle’s outstretched hand. He shows her how to hold it and swing it. She accidentally whacks his lower leg, but he just chuckles. I look at my husbands. They’re both smiling as they watch our little girl interact with her uncle. 

It really is a precious sight. I know that Negan has to appear like a complete asshole, but I know that’s not all he is. He’s quite a sweetheart once you get to know him, and he shares that side of him with you. Luckily, I get to know that side of him, so I know he’s really just a teddy bear.

Seeing him interact with Angel like this, and getting to talk to him during our card games, just proves the fact that he’s not a monster.

[ask-the-good-creeps]

Can we have more gorey HCs on some of the creeps? Like how they would kill/if they're more sadistic ect if that makes sense

//Makes perfect sense. Let’s see what we got:

Slenderman: Nobody knows what he does with his targets when he deals with them personally. They just sort of...disappear. That’s one of the things that makes Slenderman’s wrath so terrifying - you don’t know what’ll happen to you if you invoke it, but it won’t be good.

Splendorman: The few times he does freak out and kill someone, he typically isn’t fully in control of himself. He usually ends up tearing the target apart with his tendrils.

Trenderman: He turns his target’s skin into clothing that never gets worn. Whether his targets are alive or not at the time of the skinning depends on how serious their crimes were.

Jeff the Killer: Mercy kills victims with a quick slice across the throat that has them dead within seconds. Stabs targets repeatedly in the abdomen; if he’s really pissed off, the targets get stabbed a lot in a heated frenzy...if he’s still just simmering and mostly in control, he’ll do a few quick stabs in non-vital areas so they die slowly - for maximum suffering. This is the closest Jeff will ever get to torture.

Homicidal Liu: Liu doesn’t do any of the killing - Sully does it all. And Sully just goes ham with a knife every time. It’s always a shit ton of stabbing (a lot of it postmortem) without any particular pattern to it.

Eyeless Jack: He’ll break necks, he’ll slice throats, virtually anything he can that will kill quickly (like Jeff, he isn’t fond of torture) without damaging the internal organs. Then he’ll cut open the corpse and take whatever he feels like taking/has the capacity to take with him from it. He’s a doctor more than a vigilante, so though he does kill it isn’t anywhere near as often as the other vigilantes do.

BEN_Drowned: VERY sadistic. His idea of fun with his targets is seeing how quickly he can break them, and sometimes how long he can drag things out. He hardly ever actually kills the targets himself - more often than not, he just puts his targets through psychological Hell until they end their own miserable lives to get away from him. He can get anything that runs on electricity under his control, and the brain runs on electrical impulses...so, he essentially ‘hacks’ into people’s brains. He gives them nightmares, he makes them hallucinate their worst fears day in and day out, so on and so forth until they just can’t handle it anymore.

Laughing Jack: Also VERY sadistic, but in a physical sense instead of a psychological one. He has a selection of tools on an old rusty cart that he pulls out to up the fear factor - but he rarely uses the tools...he prefers his own claws for ripping out everything from nails to teeth to eyes, slicing into flesh, and so on. Sometimes he’ll pull out his targets intestines and blow them up with his breath before tying them into balloon animal shapes. So, yeah...he does a lot of painful stuff.

Jason the Toymaker: He rarely kills because the children he helps usually don’t want to see their abusers dead. But when he does deem it necessary to kill, he usually opts for the slow and painful route like Laughing Jack does. He doesn’t drag it out as much as the monochrome clown, though, nor is he as creative in his methods of pain infliction. 

The Puppeteer: He breaks necks, and only of people who truly want to die who have no help of getting better.

Candy Pop & Candy Cane: Mallets. They smash their targets into bloody, gory puddles with their super-heavy mallets.

Kagekao: He generally deals the final blow by tearing apart people with his claws. He likes the feeling of their flesh ripping apart in his hands.

Nathan the Nobody: He typically stalks his targets for a while to make them hyper-paranoid (much like BEN and the Slenderman do) then ends up going berserk and bludgeoning them to death with his modified pipe. He isn’t really in control when this is happening, at least not during the berserk mode part.

Bloody Painter: He mainly kills his targets through exsanguination (blood-letting/draining). It’s a slow process, but a very miserable way to die when it’s done properly. If he can’t get his target to a place where they can be tied/held down for the blood-letting process, he’ll slice their throat open and just drain the blood from there postmortem.

Judge Angels: She slices people’s heads off with her sword. There’s really not too much to it - it’s just...slice, THUMP, rolllll...

Nurse Ann: Originally she killed people with her chainsaw, but realized how ineffective a chainsaw tends to be as a people-killing machine. So now she uses throwing knives (Hoodie actually taught her how to throw them at one point) to immobilize her targets, then she tears into them with scalpels. Whether or not the target is alive or dead at the time of the scalpel use depends on her mood at the time and how severe their crimes are perceived to be.

Ticci Toby: We all know how this guy kills people; the youngest proxy uses a pair of sharp hatchets that he is an expert in both wielding and throwing. He chops his targets to pieces (usually while they’re still alive) with manic, sadistic, violent schizophrenic glee.

Masky: Usually just bludgeons people with nearby blunt objects. He prefers to kill quickly and just get it over with...no sadism here.

Hoodie: Same as Masky - he wants to get it done quickly. So he’ll usually bludgeon people to death with his pipe or put a bullet through their skull with his pistol.

Kate the Chaser: She is fucking Hell with a pocketknife or switchblade. She always has one on her, and anyone who really deserves it or pisses her off to high Hell (and isn’t an ally or innocent) will find that their corpse is unrecognizable by the time she’s done with them. It is horribly painful to be dealt with by her.

Clockwork: She is much like Jeff (except for the mercy killing innocents part) - she stabs or slits throats...usually stabs. She tends to aim for vital points in her stabbing if she’s in an okay mood (she’s never in a good mood when she’s dealing with targets), and she aims for non-vital points to create a slower more painful death when she’s in a particularly foul mood.

Jane the Killer: Slits throats more often than not, though will sometimes stab. She likes to see how far she can make the blood spatter when she slices through someone’s jugular or carotid artery.

Hobo Heart: Has a habit of carrying people up to a great height with his flight and dropping them from up there. He has perfected this art to the point of being bale to make sure legs and possibly arms break, but not ribs. This way, the heart stays intact for when he’s ready to tear it out and put it in his own chest.

Sally: She uses brute strength to rip her targets apart. Like, literally. With her bare hands. She’s a very sadistic little one, and she likes to ‘play’ with her targets for as long as she can before their bodies give up and die. She often rips open the chest and breaks ribs one by one.

Lazari: She just eats. She goes after non-human entities, so yeah. She just devours them bite by bite, and that’s gotta hurt, I suppose.

Lacy: She also eats, but humans for this one. Her targets get their throats and sometimes internal organs eaten out while they’re still alive. It’s always a bloody mess.

Hope that’s what you’re looking for, fam. Great question! c: //

[ofhowls]

WANTED CONNECTIONS ! below you’ll find a list of wanted connections, please fill them before i commit sewer-side. if you wanna talk, you wanna discuss – send me a message on discord ( jayden#7437 ) ! okay, that’s all.

alvarez, odette – quick summary: twenty-nine, cancer, has a daughter ( ava: played by lane ), engaged ( nicolas: played by pj ), is a florist because life’s a joke, kind of hot-headed, has a messy past we don’t talk about, would beat someone up 10/10, don’t test her, drives an ugly pick-up truck ( bella’s from twilight, don’t ask ) and owns a fluffy kitten named mango. 

plot one – mother: long story short, her mom was around 16 when she had her ( would now be in her mid 40′s ), was a prostitute who didn’t care and was all around a trash human being. odette moved into foster homes before she turned 6 and she was in and out of them throughout her entire childhood. when odette had ava, however, she moved back in. and their relationship turned messier real fast. she moved back out at eighteen and has been staying away from her mom ever since. her mom only ever contacts her for money, she’s that bitch. fc could be salma hayek, but any mexican fc in that age range is a1.

plot two – sister from another mister: odette lived on the street in her teens, often running away from foster homes because they were GROSS. i want someone from her past in sheffield. i really, really want their relationship to have been like them kiddos in the movie thirteen ( 2003 ), you know? like hella ride or die but also toxic af. fc doesn’t matter but white people are gross so a person of colour, mayhaps? they’d be either her age or older, and obviously a womf because she hates men.

* NEW ! plot three – butler: look, she’s marrying rich and i’ve already established that she’s best buds with the butler. he’s old, he’s nice, they’re just having a good time together. all that i know about him is … just that, cool! he’s worked with the talbots for ages so, you get like +3484 plots with this one. do it, i beg of you. jeremy irons is a snack and so is jeff goldblum. think about it. 

apolskis, julian – quick summary: twenty, leo, has had cancer come and go since he was 10, is a bit of an asshole, its a defence mechanism though, lost his leg a year ago, has a sister ( kitty: played by lane ), currently dating ( micah: played by patty ), is in a band, plays drums, has a deadbeat dad that his mom sends fake happy bday cards from. 

plot one – father: basically, back in the good old days ( about 11 years ago ), julian and his family lived in seattle. living their best life. and then, he got diagnosed with cancer. in came the bills and his father split. he’s been out of their lives ever since, not really giving a hot diddly darn about his son – or the rest of the family, not that i care about them. he’d be in his mid 40′s or older by now. any white male fc would work but hugh dancy is dear to me. 

* NEW ! plot two – hospital buddy: give me a friend for this motherfricker, okay? someone who might be sick, too. someone who’s been at the hospital with him, someone who knows that struggle of DYING. you feel me? this person can literally be 80 years old, i don’t care! as long as they’ve spent some time in care with my boy, maybe even roomed with him, it’s all good.

atkins, scarlett – quick summary: nineteen, gemini, mother’s a dead socialite, father is an alive asshole, used to smang her step-brother ( milo: played by pj ) before he ditched her, was kind of the queen bee before she ghosted on all her “friends” for a fancy college, got kicked out of said college for an adderall addiction, is now at rock bottom and forced to hang with the losers, super manipulative and selfish, kind of got a rough exterior. 

plot one – old friend: i really want someone who used to be friends with her either before she became miss popular or before they graduated. either way, she would’ve ditched them for bigger and better. i want beef, i want dramas – i want this bitch to suffer. before she hung with the it crowd she was a freaking mathlete, so don’t you forget it. honestly, cady heron is SHAKING. i say as i stole it from lindsay weir, whatever. she was also a cheerleader in her later years, if that helps. i’m very cliche. they’d be like nineteen, and preferably a womf but i’m not picky. 

* NEW ! plot two – father: all you gotta know about ray atkins, is that he’s garbage. he’s a rich bitch, the richest damn dude in town, and he cares approximately NOT AT ALL about his daughter. he’s constantly going back and forth between pushing her to achieve things and not acknowledging her presence. it’s a hard knock life. rape tw // there was also an instance where scout experienced assault at a party and he blamed her for drinking, so … not the nicest. on top of that, he doesn’t allow scout to speak french in the house ( her mother was french, uwu ), and that’s MEAN. anyways, any white/puerto rican man in his 40′s and up will work. 

baek, wolfgang – quick summary: thirty-five, capricorn, loves horror films and has made quite a few, dad is a famous director ( bigger in korea than the states ), has triplets because his dick is that powerful, went from mr. friend zone to mr. i’m sorry i gave you three babies at once, sort-of-dating ( ziba: played by patty ) really talkative and amazing, works at blockbuster because that’ll support a family, am i right, lads?

plot one – work pal: he’s at work a lot, ok? and he needs friends. it’s a win/win. i need someone for him to do stupid work stuff with, make working a fun experience! i want a squad like in chuck, you know? if you don’t know what i’m talking about then superstore, if you still don’t know what i’m talking about then why are you still here? age don’t matter but i would prefer if they were close in age. gender, who cares. bye.

plot two – partner in crime: basically, he makes a lot of indie flicks. he actually only moved to sheffield to work on a screenplay but… it’s been a while. i need someone who makes movies with him, though. a co-director or someone he keeps casting as the lead because bros, ok? once again, preferably close in age, gender doesn’t matter.

* NEW ! plot three – cousin: i mean, hewwo? most of his extended family is back in korea, but – but – i could imagine his aunt or uncle would’ve moved to the us shortly after his parents did. so, a cousin would be neat! someone his age, someone he can talk to about childhood stuff, someone who understands his unspoken rivalry with his father, someone to babysit his kids. they would’ve lived in florida after moving to the us, thirty and up and preferably a dude. i like dudes. but a woman would work as well. not to mention, half or fully korean!

bellefleur, kipling – quick summary: forty-eight, capricorn, born and raised in louisiana, has two kids he don’t know about ( lucia: played by britt, jude: played by patty ), a cop at the police station, lives alone with no pets because god hates him, got a partner ( elliot: played by lane ) but not in the gay way, unfortunately heterosexual, kinda grumpy, kinda just annoyingly white. 

* NEW ! plot one – hook-up: kip is a sexual being, believe it or not! and sometimes, a mans need a nut bust. he’s a great lover, i swear. but he’s not a great mans when it comes to the romantics. he does have two kids he don’t know of, after all. just give me someone he visits late at night, ignores in public and have fake deep convos with whilst sharing a cigarette in bed. really painting a picture here, aren’t i? unlike other fathers in this town, he has no interest in sleeping with someone his child’s age, so –– thirties and up!

cheung, beatrice – quick summary: twenty-five, aries, middle school teacher, a big fucking lesbian, dating ( kaylee: played by patty )super sociable and outgoing, literally loves partying and hanging out with the youths, self-proclaimed big sister to just about every teen out there, works part-time as a waitress at the diner, used to be engaged but we don’t talk about that, foster kid with no connection to blood-related family. 

plot one – coworker: someone at the diner! just someone to have her back, to gossip with, to hang out with after shifts, to just be gal pals with, you know? she needs more gal pals. i love throwing movie references in there, but – think whiplash with ellen page. that kind of aesthetic, that kinda shit. from mid to late twenties, a woman because i don’t care for men. 

plot two – pseudo-sibling: i want her to really play the big sister role with someone! have a little baby she can pass all her heaux wisdom down on. just a wee bean that she considers a little sibling of sorts. she could even house them for a bit since she’s back to living alone! they’d have to be in their teens and gender, once again, does not matter!

* NEW ! plot three – foster sibling: she already has like fifteen, so give her another. tris is probably the youngest among the bunch and owen ( played by fanny ) is somewhere in the middle. it’s just a nice jewish household that fostered a lot kids, cool? any fc, any ethnicity, any gender! just older than twenty-five, is all i’m asking. neat, thank you for coming to my ted talk. 

cowell, stefan – quick summary: twenty-nine, scorpio, construction worker, married ( lumen: played by pj ), got a little sister who he always fights with ( arella: played by kt, whenever she returns to us ), hates dogs, kind of a prick, a huge prick actually, sort of running from the law but like on the low-key, always 100% done with just about everyone’s shit. 

plot one – work buddy: like i said, he works construction. and i want him to have one friend. like a singular friend. someone to grab a beer with, someone who he doesn’t wanna strangle. it’ll be a miracle but it’s a miracle i deserve damnit. they’d have to be in their late twenties or older, a dude and any fc. 

plot two – neighbour: it sounds like a basic plot, but i promise you – it’s worth it! i want him to have a god damn family feud plot going on, okay? i want them to fight, i want neighbours ( 2013 ) as a plot on tumblr dot com. i want him to hate them and i want them to hate him. fc don’t matter! gender don’t matter! preferably around his age or older, though. 

halonen, oliver – quick summary: thirty, aquarius, part-time mechanic, part-time bartender ( think coyote ugly because that’s hot ), used to be engaged ( marty: played by tasha ), got a fake daughter ( pauline: played by pj ), has some slight drug issues she’s working out atm, also her dad’s back from the dead ( uriah: played by lane ), she’s super nice and cute and you should all love her sarcastic ass. 

plot one – work friend: i feel like i just want everyone to have coworkers, but listen… i genuinely just do. either someone that works as a mechanic alongside her or another bartender who sometimes uses their bod for tips, it’s all good. i want her to have one friend her own god damn age, you know? they’d have to be a gal because men are smelly. age would be around her own and that’s it!

plot two – dealer: listen… drugs come from somewhere. and even if she’s not currently using, i’d love for her to have that dynamic. maybe she owes them money, we can make it hella messy or we can make them chill pals, idc! i just need her dealer her and i need them to push some drugs. plus it’s a buy one get one for free type of deal ( see my plots for ed further down ). i want them to be a little older than herself but other than that it’s free for interpretation. 

* NEW ! plot three – drug bud: this bitch is from texas and this bitch did a lot of drugs in texas. she spent her early twenties high as fuck, overdosed at 24 and then got clean. legend? yes. she’s got a lot of good influences, aside from one particular asshole, and i just want her to be more pulled into old habits! let her have some friends from her old life of criminality and drugs come to sheffield and shake things up. any fc and gender, though they’d have to be in their 30′s!

hodgins, nathaniel – quick summary: twenty-one, gemini, works as chef at the pub, skipped college to help his mama with the bills, got a cutie-patootie golden retriever, dad is in prison after a drunk driving accident that killed a 10 year old, moved to sheffield a few years ago for a fresh start, a big ass home of sexual, has a crush on a comp het ( vince: played by pj ), loves his mother more than anything, only child, conceals trauma with humour and bad puns. 

* NEW ! plot one – ex-something: now, i’m not saying they dated. i’m saying they hooked up and it never lead anywhere. it can be angsty, it can be fine, it can be a garbage fire. we can work out the details whenever, i’m cool like that. any fc and any gender, though preferably in their early twenties!

holstad, damian – quick summary: eighteen, aries, the biggest fuccboi you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, fucked your girlfriend ( and he meant it ), brother to the biggest loser in town ( lou: played by tasha ), parties every weekend, best friends with the second biggest fuccboi in town ( artemus: played by nico ), kinda soft but he won't ever let you know that, has a crush on his brother’s bff ( pauline: played by pj ).

plot one – ex-girlfriend: it’s simply unrealistic that he hasn’t dated at least one of the fifty bazillion girls he’s smanged. now, it’s probable they didn’t last more than a few months but its still a plot I NEED. she’d be either a junior or senior in high school right now. so, either graduating now or next year. face claim don’t matter. it’s possible he cheated, he’s an asshole like that.

* NEW ! plot two – more fuccpeople: at this point, i’m collecting them. there are a bunch of fuccbois in damian’s life right now, and i need there to be more. there needs to be a whole fracking pack of them. just running around town, smanging ladies and taking names. could’ve played football with him, could’ve graduated with him, could’ve just lived next door – i dunno! around eighteen… a boy, or a girl! fuccgirls are VALID too. 

kinney, sawyer – quick summary: twenty, sagittarius, volunteers at animal shelter, studying to become a vet, loves animals more than she’ll ever love a man, has a rescued bunny named waffles, her parents died in a car-crash we don’t talk about it, has a younger brother ( grayson: played by patty ), soccer is her life, also wanna fuck the soccer coach ( elliot: played by lane ), her first ‘kiss’ was a dare at age 5 with her cousin ( holden: played by pj ) for an ice cream, did i mention she loves animals, takes virginities for charity, happened once but i demand its a thing now, boinking mr edgelord ( quentin: played by pj ).

plot one – team mates: soccer is cool! soccer is for champions! she’s currently the team captain of the local all-girls soccer team, i know – such a title. and i want her to have more of a team. so gather up your gals in their late teens to early twenties and kick some balls around!

plot two – ex-boyfriend: before she swiped virginities and had sex with boys who love serial killers, she probably had a steady boyfriend. kind of a puppy-love-they’ll-probably-get-married-straight-out-of-high-school relationship, you know? they probably broke up because they were way too young and it was more of an availability thing rather than genuine attachment. does that make sense? it’s a small town! their parents probably loved their child’s respective partner than they loved each other. 20-22, any boy of any fc i’m not picky.

* NEW ! plot three – enemy: it’s a hard plot to ask for, but i request you hear me out. she never fights with anyone. she’s SO NICE. a walking mary sue, i swear. and she’s just friends with everyone. it’s boring! give me someone that gets under her skin! someone for her to absolutely fucking hate! for no reason or for a reason, idk! around twenty-one, any gender.

larsen, margaret – quick summary: forty-two, libra, has one terrible son ( teddy: played by lane ), though she loves him more than anything, left the country because she was a hoe, mortician, got knocked up by her professor that one time, kind of boinking her son’s bandmate ( holden: played by pj ), doing her best all the time but keeps on making mistakes, the biggest mama-bear you’ll ever stumble upon. 

plot one – ex-hook-up: listen, she left the states to study in the uk – mostly to get away from her parents – but also because she had a bit of a reputation. like, a really bad one. so if you have a character, or want to play a character, that grew up in sheffield and are in their forties… wink wonk. that’s it. that’s the plot. 

* NEW ! plot two – hater, hater: peggy was a skank in her youth, okay? she was a downright slut and she probably rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. she most likely still does! so, i want some judgmental hoes up in this bitch. i want them to bicker and i want it to be very small-town-desperate-housewives-esque. any lady. preferably around her age range, would’ve lived in sheffield all her life.

* NEW ! plot three – best friend: peggy only ever speaks to kids, it’s weird. give her. bud, and like i said above… desperate housewives is a fucking neat ass show. they can drink wine and they can gossip and they can judge her for the people she’s sleeping with. or, well, person. any woman in her 40′s, please and thank.

mullin, casper – quick summary: fifteen, aries, fucking love aliens, the government is lying to y’all, has got a whole ass squad of friends, kinda gay for one of them ( eli: played by pj ), kinda intimidated by another ( ava: played by lane ), if it wasn't obvious he’s a gay, has a pupper that means the world to him, always investigates creepy shit because he is that white person.

plot one – disgraced nuclear physicist: you heard me. basically just the plot of back to the future. someone a bit ( a lot ) older than casper himself that kinda takes him under their wing. they’re as nutty as him when it comes to conspiracy theories, and maybe they feed his ideas and stuff when it comes to the shit going on in town. please and thank you. 

pearce, minoo – quick summary: twenty-one, aquarius, the biggest of edgelords, expert in stick n poke tattoos, hates her family, loves their big ass dog, a military brat, skated pretty much everywhere because she’s a walking cliche, not anymore though cause her bff broke it ( vince: played by pj ), invented grunge, would kill herself for the lead singer of zero boys, wants her mom to die ( rachel: played by lane ), wants the cop who's trying to get in her pants to die even more ( sera: played by tasha ), almost dropped out of high school fifty times but i forgot to make it canon. 

* NEW ! plot one – enemy: i love enemies. anyways, mj is a fucking bitch. she’s so edgy, she’s not like other girls, and she definitely would end up in a fight with just about anybody. there’s no way in HECK there aren’t people in town who hate her guts. they could’ve gone to college with her, they could’ve gone to high school with her, i dunno! i just want her to FIGHT. preferably a girl, preferably in her age range. 

oswalt, kevin – quick summary: nineteen, virgo, had the most tumultuous of childhoods involving both kidnapping and murder, she doesn’t talk about it, has sort-of-a-boyfriend ( jamie: played by pj ), and a definitely best friend ( pippa: played by lane ), currently living with her father ( dalton: played by britt ) without the knowledge that she’s his daughter, her life is messy, she likes books and writing, thinks sheffield is kinda fascinating, the biggest of nerds, kinda awkward but we forgive her. 

plot one – brother: we already have her father, mother ( marion: played by nesh ), and two sisters ( lila: played by luna, and hazel: played by fanny ), and now all that’s missing is the second youngest kid! he’d be like 21 years old, white with blue eyes because that’s a trait near and dear to us, and … a dude-bro. we have this hc that he’s in a band and kinda just does his own thing. free-spirit. also, to summarise the family history REAL QUICK – you can ask for more deets – kev got kidnapped, family fell apart, marion and dalton got divorced, the kids chose sides, markus ( the brother ) chose to stay neutral, they moved away while dalton stayed, and now they’re all back. 

plot two – study pal: not quite as in-depth as the one above, but! she needs a study pal. she’s currently attending the local college and she has zero friends who actually go to school. give me someone for her to work on stupid projects with, someone she’s forced to get to know and get out of her comfort zone with. they’d be 19-20 and fc/gender has no importance. 

sutton, eduardo – quick summary: fifty-two, taurus, literal fucking drug-lord, gang leader, owns the silhouette bar outside of town, loves his daughter a lot ( carmen: played by britt ), never smoked a weed in his life, jk, lost his wife a bazillion years ago, now banging the woman who failed save her ( lorelai: played by patty ), has three dogs which he kinda loves more than his daughter, killed a lot of mens in his life, just all around a good dude. 

plot one – brother: ed comes from an cuban-catholic family from new orleans and his father was kind of an asshole but his mom was alright. however, he was always closest to his little brother. so please, for the love of god, play him. you’ll get to play an uncle if you do, it’s pretty hot. any cuban fc in their late forties would work, but raul esparza is a hot fucking take. 

plot two – gang members: he’s a gang leader, ok? he needs more to lead. they hang out at the silhouette bar, push drugs through town and are all around just a good group of people. give me all of them to be honest. think the southside serpents from riverdale. or whatever they’re called in sons of anarchy. fc and gender and stuff don’t matter, however – ed would never allow someone under twenty-five. he’s a family man. 

talbot, mikhail – quick summary: thirty, pisces, the softest boy you’ll ever meet, a nurse at the local hospital, got a kid on the way, dating a ginger bitch ( liza: played by pj ), best friends with his cousin ( nic: also played by pj ), best friends with his ex ( emma: played by lane and not pj ) coaches the kids football team during his spare time, also works a couple of shifts at his father’s ( robert: played by luna ) hardware store, really just genuinely fucking nice, kinda depressed but you’d never know. 

plot one – high school friends: he’s lived in sheffield his whole life. he was on the football team, he was popular – he was a fun dude to hang with. it’s unrealistic none of his high school friends stuck around. so! give me a couple of those. they can be anybody as long as they’re around thirty years old.

plot two – kids to coach: self-explanatory, really. but if you want to play a kid on the football team, speak now or forever hold your peace. teens, boys probably because sports ball is sexist, just someone for him to coach and teach the way of sports ball life. 

weathers, elizabeth – quick summary: forty-two, sagittarius, freaking neurotic, forgets her own son ( eli: played by pj ), remembers her other every now and again ( jesse: played by nico ), wishes she could forget her husband ( andy: played by lane ), her bestest and smallest son was taken from her almost two years ago, yes this plot came before she was winona ryder don’t judge me, stay at home mom yet has no reason to stay at home.

* NEW ! plot one – emotional support: the woman lost her son, she needs like a mom support group on facebook. she needs someone who understands her loss. maybe someone who’s lost their own kid, obviously not to a giant bunny, but it’d still be kind of relatable. someone she can discuss her divorce plans with, you know? a woman in her forties, i’ll accept nothing else.