awkwardcourage

[awkwardcourage]

sorry for being so incredibly slow atm. i'm working through some mental health stuff, so my creativity is pretty dry, but i do wanna be here and i still wanna write with you all <3

#don't you dare besmirch billy joel | out of character

[awkwardcourage]

The slim, pale limb lingered, outstretched, waiting expectant for Hughie to take it. Only when he makes that little quip does Hughie do more than just stare. A sweaty palm slaps against a cold hand as Hughie gives a brief handshake, a squeeze and it's dropped, as though Monarch would rip off his hand if Hughie held on for long enough. With the things he's heard about this man, the imagery he'd seen not moments before, it doesn't feel like that much of a stretch.

Monarch doesn't look as though he could deal a great deal of damage. He doesn't even look as though he can restrain Hughie, but all bets are off because of the V he's been doped up with. He's probably far stronger than he looks. Trying to make an attack is probably only going to make the situation worse.

Hughie swallows. He doesn't want to give his name, but he doesn't have any power here. He can either give it willingly now or potentially be forced to give it under duress. "Hughie," he says, quiet and unwilling. He keeps his surname, but he's already caught in a trap. There's little he can protect in this situation. He watches Monarch turn back to look at the computer and he thinks about making a run for it, but he's still there when Monarch turns back around.

Monarch proposes the idea like they're lovers making their escape in the night, a whispered proposal as though there's a risk of being overheard. Exhilarating. Hughie's trying valiantly to not show his panic and dread. He doesn't want to know what drinks with a man like this is actually code for, but he knows that this isn't an offer. It's a command.

"What... now?" Hughie asks, a dry tongue working around an equally dry mouth. Some hysterical part of him hopes that Monarch will offer to exchange numbers, like they're planning a date and Hughie's a willing participant in this situation; pretending that Hughie has any choice in this situation at all.

Hyles carefully studied the boy. He seemed... unusually meek, the person you'd least expect to infiltrate such a place like Vought Tower. To come all the way here, to find the computer, search it, learn, all in such a short time... He was the living proof that no one should judge a book by its cover, a man by his presence. It's a good thing, it makes Hyles' smile remain, just as his hand remained extended.

He can practically see Hughie's thoughts race, connect the metaphorical dots, gather the pieces... This boy is good, exciting. And he seemed to have reached the right conclusion. A small nod comes as a response to his reaction, amusing as it was, before the man gives just one more step towards him, inviting him to shake his hand – he would not force it but encourage it.

"It's bad manners to leave someone hanging." He speaks softly, though with just a hint of authority, as if scolding him for something important. But the small breath he lets out, that little scoff breaks any chance at potential roughness. Instead, he chooses to remain gentle.

"Would it have been you yourself who called to set up a meeting, I would have gladly accepted. As you've amazingly surmised, you speak with the Monarch, and I speak with...?" His voice trails the question off as he turns over to the computer behind him, the monitor showcasing information that should never leave the Tower. Yet, an outsider had been able to scout through all of the potential defenses, to have those secrets decorate his pupils...

Wonderful. What ever should I do with you?

"Come with me." The voice whispers. Quick, he turns to look at him again, eyes set like anchors against opposing ones. "Your exemplary efforts require a reward, don't you think? You and I alone, we should talk over some drinks. I'll answer your questions and you will answer mine. How exhilarating, no?"

#hauntsect #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're allowed to make your share of mistakes | main verse: third season

[awkwardcourage]

𝐊𝐍��𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME : Moon

PRONOUNS : I’m gender fluid so she/he/they are all good!

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : Discord!! But only once we’ve chatted a bit on tumblr first.

NAME OF MUSE(S) : Hughie Campbell

BEST EXPERIENCE : Making friends with the lovely and talented people I write with on here.

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : People who never turn asks into threads or who start loads of threads, but drop it after the first reply. We all drop threads, sometimes life happens or it feels like it’s not going anywhere, but if it's all that happens, then it starts to get annoying.

MUSE PREFERENCES : Good guy protagonists who have big hearts and lots of trauma.

PLOTS OR MEMES : Depends on the muse. If there’s no obvious way for them to interact or meet, or if I’m unfamiliar with the fandom, sometimes plotting is the best way to go. Also, I do generally enjoy plotting, but memes are a nice way to get things started and are fun to give and recieve. Basically, both!

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : Nine times out of ten I will probably write you an essay. Sometimes the inspiration isn’t there, but I will usually ramble on. I don’t expect my partners to match my length, just so long as you give me something to work with.

BEST TIME TO WRITE : Weekends, or evenings if I’m lucky.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : I relate to Hughie way too much. I’ve never actually related to a character more than I’ve related to him. His anger issues, fear of abandonment, his anxiety, depression, the way he obsesses over certain things, the weird level of awkwardness and yet confidence to talk to strangers? He me fr.

TAGGED BY: tagged by @murderdeals

TAGGING: @bewitchingbaker, @h-a-unted, @themarvelliteraryuniverse, @rejectory, @soleiltm, @citizenstarlight, @hebled, @devilsnare, @heartsbreaking, @innerwar, @frosthidden

#don't you dare besmirch billy joel | out of character

[awkwardcourage]

Jars of Fears

taggedy by: @qapsiel

tagging: @hauntsect, @h-a-unted (Butcher and/or Maeve!), @citizenstarlight, @soleiltm, @rejectory (M.M. and/or Butcher), @toomagic (Cherie), @hom3land3r, @themarvelliteraryuniverse (Butcher)

#i can be that person who nobody thinks is awesome but actually they're kind of fucking awesome | headcanons #i wanna be someone who saves his family | about

[awkwardcourage]

"You're a fucking demon!" Hughie half screeches, his voice shrill with disbelief and panic. "What, the king of the fucking crossroads can't take care of a stab wound?!" Hughie can't tell if Crowley's completely taking him for a ride or if there's any truth to what he's saying, but it doesn't matter either way. He needs help and Crowley's all he's got.

Hughie squeezes his eyes shut in a grimace. He's so fucked. No matter what he does, he's fucked. It's basically hunting 101 not to trust a demon with shit, but Hughie's not seeing many other options here. "Fine," he opens eyes, a hard look of determination set in them, even as his form begins to quiver from blood loss. "Fine. What, do we shake on it?"

He's tip-tapping right into panic's embrace. Understandable. Looks a little bit pale, too. Crowley would like to say it's not his problem, but it kind of is with the hunter having become something of an ally against Lucifer and consorts. " Well, I'd lie if I said catching that prize wouldn't satisfy me. But you see ", he opens his arms a tad, palms presented to Hughie, grimacing as if mourning the fact he can't selflessly help. " My options are limited. " Crowley's mien slowly returns to one of nonchalance after, hands sliding into the pockets of his pants.

" Special offer, because we're twinsies. You give me your soul, I heal your wounds, and you get it right back. " Same game he played with Bobby, once. Didn't end too well, but what can a girl do? " Rest assured, I keep my bargains. So. What say you? Tick-tock, ferret. "

#murderdeals #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #america | hunter verse

[awkwardcourage]

Hughie forgets about the man he's been dancing with. He forgets about the club, he forgets where he is. He just thinks of Robin and A-Train and what he blood tasted like and how it feels like he's dying because he's certain he can't breathe. It surprises Hughie when he sees him, that shock of red hair, illuminated almost neon by his pale skin.

Hughie hears what he said, but it takes a moment for it to sink in. He doesn't think about roofies or being drugged, even though he probably should. It doesn't even cross his mind. "Thank you." With shaking hands, takes the water, gulping haf of it down and splashing a few handfuls on his face.

He feels a little better. A little more sturdy, a little less like he's going to come apart at the seams. He looks up and finds the guy is still there. The kindness of the act resonates within him, it's so strong a feeling it's like a suckerpunch. He doesn't need to be here, he didn't have to let Hughie ruin his night, yet there he is.

"Thank you..." Hughie leans back against the wall, his heart still racing, but he finds he can breathe much easier now. "For staying. I don't... You don't have to, though, I don't wanna ruin your night."

With a combination of booming music (with bass so loud, it practically resonates in ribcages) and dazzling multi-colored lights, it's easy to get carried away. Becoming a slave to the surrounding atmosphere of sweaty gyrating bodies, a blissful haze had wrapped itself around their mind. It was like a DRUG, submerging their thoughts and deafening any worries.

The stranger was handsome and Peyton had found themself hooked; SNARED. Toned frame, pretty blue eyes, and a natural air of intelligence. Their soul practically shivered with the exploring hands, a desperate need arising in the pit of their stomach. Like kindling for a fire.

The abruptness at which the man tore away had nearly left them reeling. However, realization strikes quickly and with it, concern accompanies. Swift strides bring the escort to the bar, where a bottle of water is demanded. The request is met with a raised eyebrow, and obeyed. Firmly grasping the unopened bottle, they swerve between dancing parties with ease, following the man's trajectory to the door.

They're more than intimately familiar with the signs of an oncoming panic attack (perhaps, more than they would ever favor, but beggars can't be choosers, right?) . Business for tonight be damned, Peyton isn't going to turn a blind eye to the distress of someone.

"I got water," they announce once outside, offering the bottle. "I swear it's unopened."

#poisonedfire #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you’re having a hard time and lately you don’t feel so good | main verse: first season

[awkwardcourage]

Hughie had been laughed at enough times in his life to recognise when it was out of malice or something else. That near cackle was simply joy, the sheer pleasure of bringing a man down to his proverbial knees. Like with so many things that Cherie did, this only made him harder. Hughie nodded, a whimpered "uh-huh" coming out of him.

Hughie leaned into the touch. He wanted to wrap himself around her, but he restrained himself. The only sensations were his nake form atop the sheets, their foreheads kissing, and the hand beating him to kingdom come. He was scared he wouldn't be able to last, but the insant "three" left her mouth, he came hard and fast, strangled cries and near sobs breaking out as the orgasm rolled over him in powerful pulses.

she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in her. it was quick, almost a cackle. she wasn't laughing at him because she was making fun of him, but because he was so needy and it turned her own so much to know she had this much control. "you'll be my good boy?"

alright, that was enough for her. she leaned forward, leaning her forehead on his. "fine, be my good boy, hughie. show me how good you can be for me." she moved her hand faster. "you can cum if you do it on the count of three. can you do that for me, hughie?" she looked forward to watching him come completely undone.

#toomagic #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're only human | main verse #with poise and willingness to improvise | nsfw #usfw

[awkwardcourage]

Why did every member of the boys seem to think Hughie was capable of things that he gave absolutely no indication of even remotely being able to do? The second biggest asshole he knew was in the boys, so he really couldn't fathom why he was doing it instead of one of them. "So why couldn't you have just got one of the other guys to do it?!" Hughie protests, even though he's pretty much shutting the barn doors after all of the horses have escaped. If ever there was an exercise in futility, trying to get out of this job was it.

Hughie pulled his t-shirt back on, relieved that his chest was no longer being stared at. Cherie could be pretty intense. The first time they'd met she'd grabbed his face and examined it like he was a thing up for auction. Funny how her choosing a place to put the mic had reminded him of that. "Okay." He nodded. "So... Do I need to hone in on anyone or just... mill around?"

"there's a first time for everything, and you're going to pretend this isn't your's." his being awkward wasn't going to help their situation. in fact, he needed not to draw attention to himself and that meant acting comfortable. maybe even too comfortable. she pulled out the small wireless microphone tapped it lightly so that she was sure it was on and transmitting to the receiver. she heard the sound in her ear bud. "think of the second biggest asshole you know. be him." she studied his chest, trying to figure out where a stripper wouldn't touch and feel the mic. eventually, she settled on taping the microphone on the center of his chest between his pecs. it was tiny and hopefully barely noticeable. she put the transmitter into a pack of cigarettes and handed it to him along with a lighter. "put these in your pocket, but don't take them out." if he was searched it would be suspicious if he had the cigarettes and no lighter.

#toomagic #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're only human | main verse

[awkwardcourage]

Hughie looked down at her hand, watching it quiver, and felt a twinge of guilt. Like he should have seen through the brave face she was putting on, instead of getting wrapped up in his own anxieties. Alice was the one who was actually targetted. Hughie could, if he could afford it, just move out and no danger would befall him.

"I'm sorry." Hughie was half tempted to take Alice's hand, just to get it to stop shivering, but he wasn't sure if that would actually help. "So... Is there anything I can do to," he shrugged, a little helpless. "You know, help?" He couldn't imagine there was. Just lie low and try not to get both of them killed. He hadn't even fired a gun before, so it wasn't like he could help in that sense.

she had the strong impulse to do a line just to feel something besides what she already felt, but adding more adrenaline to the mix just didn't seem like the best idea. and she'd been really good about keeping the illegal illicit shit to a minimum living with hughie. it was like a normal life simulator she'd just crashed.

she might look calm to him, but she didn't feel it. she was running every different option they had, trying to think of scenarios where they both walked away, unscathed and tried to keep everything they had here. alice shrugged in response to his question and put the gun down. she held out her hand to him. she knew that if he touched her she'd be ice cold, but what she was really trying to show him was the fact that she was shaking. "i'm freaking out, i just don't think it does either of us any good if i get hysterical."

#frosthidden #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're only human | main verse

[awkwardcourage]

plotted starter | @theirmadness

His suit lies crumpled on the floor, abandoned in his eagerness. The past few days have been crazy- not a bad crazy, nothing's could ever be bad- and it's eaten into their time together. Because of this, Hughie's excitement has a desperate edge. His heart rate quickens, breath catching in his throat as he crawls onto the bed, towards Wanda. A single word slips out, needful as ever. "Mommy..."

#theirmadness #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're only human | main verse #with poise and willingness to improvise | nsfw

[awkwardcourage]

For a second, Hughie worries that Cain won't take it for an answer. He braces himself, cursing himself for being so incredibly stupid to try and go up against Cain, but the moment passes. It seems that Cain wasn't overly eager to smack Hughie off his high horse and Hughie is undoubtedly grateful for it.

Hughie tries not to flinch as Cain claps him on the arm. It feels far more intimidating than comforting, most likely by design. "Yeah... Thanks..." Hughie says faintly, wide eyes fixed on Cain. He's half waiting for him to change his mind, to turn back around and deal out violence well earned. If he has even a tiny shred of luck, Hughie might have got away with more or less telling Cain to go fuck himself.

Anticipation to find himself exposed to actual insults with that boy's tongue getting loose elevates. They may be working on the same side, but Cain isn't above putting Hughie in his place; be it verbally or otherwise. Fortunately, threatening silence and proximity alone seem to suffice. And once Hughie snaps out of it, enough ease seeps into the target of his little outburst to summon something of a simper—

" Narrowly avoided a disaster. " Merely an underlying pinch of humor swings along, ere Cain gives Hughie a firm pat to an upper arm and moves past him. " I don't expect you to like me. " He doesn't even like himself most of the time. " But you'd do well to pick your battles more wisely. "

#murderdeals #murderdeals | cain #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #america | hunter verse #/ah what a shame :(/

[awkwardcourage]

The aura sight was an ability Hughie often forgot about. It was like when someone gets a new haircut or a tattoo. At first, it stands out, but over time it simply becomes a part of their appearance. When Hughie meets someone new, their aura stands out, as does anything else interesting about their appearance; over time, it all melds together as one cohesive image. Hughie has never seen an aura as pale as Monarch’s before, like smoky quartz, a near translucent white with flecks of grey. He’s a little transfixed by it; but Monarch is, in turn, transfixed by Hughie.

Everyone at Vought has had a somewhat similar reaction to Hughie joining the Seven. They all seem enthralled, practically overjoyed. For Hughie, it’s bittersweet and overwhelming. He’s barely out of high school and he’s already died once, trying and failing to protect the girl he hadn’t had the nerve to ask out. It’s a dream come true (because who hasn’t dreamed of being a supe and joining the Seven?) and while he’s very much a deer in the headlights, a part of him is still giddy to be the centre of attention for once. His starved ego is being fed and Monarch’s reaction to him is just one of his daily meals.

“Thank you,” Hughie says as pale, cold hands grip his own tight. “But, like- please call me Hughie. No one calls me Hugh.” He'd never had a doctor so weirdly enthusiastic about being his doctor before, but everyone seemed excited to know him now. Hughie was very much dazzled by it all. He'd been swept off his feet since joining the Seven. "Um-" He was not excited, just reeling from so much attention, from being special; and meek, awkward Hughie didn't know how to say no in the face of so much awe. "Yeah, sure."

❥ ❝The call, answered.❞ for @awkwardcourage 's Hughie, the Martyr ↩

"Oh, my! It's a most auspicious day, isn't it?" The delight in his tone cannot be denied as he strolls right into the room where the newest member of the Seven was. Stopping right in front of the boy, he eyes him from head to toe, the grin only amplifying – he seems satisfied, expectant, even.

"Look at you! Never have I seen someone quite like you, so wonderful." The smile remains and two hands come over to grab one of the other's. He clasps it tight, like a holy grail. His touch is cold, but somewhat gentle. "Welcome to The Seven, Hugh. What an honor it is to have you– oh!"

Stopping himself, he lets go of the boy's hand all too soon, hands moving to his own back. "You can call me Monarch, I'm your primary physician. I'll be taking good care of that special body of yours, so don't hesitate to rely on me whenever you feel something strange. I'm pretty good at what I do."

Finishing his little introduction, he returns to the proximity of the boy, clasping his hands now on the opposite one from the one he had grabbed before. "Are you excited? We'll have lots of fun, I can assure you!"

#hauntsect #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #keep the customer satisfied | martyr verse

[awkwardcourage]

It didn't hurt. It was just annoying; not to mention humiliating. Being pinned down to take such a ridiculous 'fun new form of torture' was so unbelievably stupid and yet, somehow, this had become Hughie's life. "Are you done- hey! Are you falling asleep?!"

Homelander continued to boop, and boop…and boop. How much time had passed? Who knew. The Supe just lay there in some kind of trace as he booped Hugh again and again, almost like it was therapeutic. After all, despite clearly annoying Hugh, Homelander was surprisingly calm and…even content, eyes slowly becoming half lidded.

#hom3land3r #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #boop war

[awkwardcourage]

jolanda jolie

#cw dissociation #i am so angry i can't even breathe | musings #we gotta go in there don’t we? | queue

[awkwardcourage]

guys i love them

#christ how hot are they in this screencap jfc #i'm not an infiltrator! | visage #like you're starring in porn version of the matrix | billy butcher #we gotta go in there don’t we? | queue

[awkwardcourage]

Butcher's gruff voice rumbles in his chest; Hughie can feel it as much as he can hear it, along with the steady, comforting thump of his heart. His apology is dismissed in that rough, yet loving way, letting him know that he's being silly without the harshness of it being spelt out for him.

Butcher's good at this. He acts like he wouldn't be, like he's all sharp corners and rough edges, but there's a softness in him that Hughie is privileged enough to experience. He holds Hughie close, does everything he can to make sure he knows that he's safe. He's wanted. He's good. He holds Hughie tight, not in a suffocating grip, but it's secure. He kisses him, runs his hands over him, comforting him, giving him something to focus on aside from the turmoil roiling in his chest.

He lets Hughie hide, knowing that's listening to Butcher, even if Hughie's face remains pressed against his chest. Hughie clings just a little tighter as the questions are rolled out one by one. He may have mistaken the rhetorical interrogation for irritation or displeasure, but they know each other well enough now. He knows Butcher won't be angry at him for needing this. He's pointing out, again, how silly he's being. Reminding him that Butcher doesn't play games. He'll say what he means and nothing more.

Hughie lets Butcher pull him away from his hiding place, guiding his face up to be cradled by a loving palm. Their eyes meet, that connection they're both in need of. His words roll over him. My good boy. The best words. Hughie smiles. It's a shaky thing, but it's there all the same. "Okay," he whispers, rubbing his cheek against Butcher's palm. "Your good boy." He sniffs, reaching up to wrap his hand around Butcher's wrist. "It's all I wanna be."

He knows just how to pull at his strings — Hughie knows how to excite him and how to warm his heart with an ease he is oftentimes bereft of. Of course, he had always been a double-edged sword to Butcher because of that. As easy as he could make him feel good about himself, he could take it all away and bring him back to the reality of his monstrous ways. That didn't matter right now, not when he had covered his good boy in an embrace, not when he was calling his pet name and his name.

Butcher makes sure to keep it up, the rubbing, the closeness, the kisses, the steady rhythm of his heart. That's the least he can do to try and bring some kind of peace to his riled up partner. Tears are streaming and Butcher has learned not to alarm himself too much until Hughie explains himself, so as to not disrupt the attempt at tranquility. It takes him a bit, Butcher can feel the tears latch against his bare chest — somehow, a pleasant feeling. He'd rather Hughie find solace crying against him than with anyone else, despite wanting to dry those away.

"Oi, it's alright. You're okay," he replies the moment the apology comes over. And he is quiet, listening in, staring at a neutral point of the room, following the rhythm of the boy's voice. His body sways when the embrace is reinforced, and he lowers his head a little, staring over at the hiding Hughie. It's alright, it's alright, he thinks and keeps to himself.

"I have a question for you, Hughie." He stops and thinks to push the boy away, thinks to make him stare back at him all tear-eyed... But he holds it back. He takes a deep breath, keeping Hughie imprisoned against him. "Did I say you were bad? Did I say you messed up?" Fuck, those were two questions. Well, it didn't matter. "When I say you're a good boy, do I mean it?" Three...

His hand stops moving for a brief moment, it slides over to the hiding cheek, attempting to lift it over, locking eyes. His thumb slides over that cheek, like rubbing away a drop of seawater. "You're my good boy, aren't you? And my good boy does not mess up."

#h a unted #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're only human | main verse

[awkwardcourage]

The sheer audacity and insanity of Homelander never ceased to astound Hughie. Even when he had outright told him that he had never bleached anyone's hair before, Homelander still had the delusional nerve to ask if him if he was sure he knew that he was doing. It was insane shit like that that made Hughie feel like he was losing his mind.

Hughie stared for a moment, before shrugging helplessly. "I followed the instructions on the box," he answered. "I'm... I'm pretty sure I got everything right." Fuck it. There wasn't much left to do except go for it. He wished that the blame couldn't be laid at his door if this went wrong (this was Homelander's idea after all), but he knew that Homelander wouldn't see it that way.

With grim determination (which was embarrassingly necessary for the task at hand), Hughie dipped the brush into the white-ish paste and began to slather Homelander's hair in it. He hoped and prayed to whatever god that may be out there to just let this work.

Homelander crossed his arms over his chest, watching Hugh closely. He could tell the kid had never used hair dye before, which meant he was taking a big risk in letting him touch his perfect golden hair. But he didn’t have any other choice. He hoped the fear of fucking up would be a good motivator for Hugh, as Homelander’s image was quite literally in his hands.

He watched Hugh mix the powder, the chemical scent strong to his senses as he made a face, lip curling. Yet he continued to watch, waiting to be instructed. For once Hugh would get to tell him what to do. Neither of them thought they’d ever see the day.

Homelander sat down on a chair he’d brought through into the bathroom earlier. He got comfortable and settled, finding it odd not having to move his cape aside, though it would be for the best. He didn’t want dye all over it. “You sure you know what you’re doing? Be absolutely sure before you put any of that shit on my head.” He warned, glancing over his shoulder up at the kid.

#hom3land3r #i don't want to go to a second location with you | threads #you're allowed to make your share of mistakes | main verse: third season