#Jesse the chaotic dumbass | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acrylicscore · 6 months

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So like, I felt like doing a little “My MCSM Choices and Headcanons” post, just as a like basis for my personal canon on MCSM while also additional letting people who read my blog know what to expect from me in terms of this silly block game.

I will place my choices in “read more” so those that don’t wanna don’t gotta.

Jesse Type:

Red-Suspender Jesse.

He’s just my favourite little guy. He just seems different. Like honestly, compared to Green-Suspender Jesse (who I’ve found people view as a gruff and bulky short-stack that has the most adorable puppy eyes, and I love it), I like to view Red-Suspender Jesse as this short skinny dainty looking thing that is somehow the scar-covered hero that saved the world. Anyone who is directly looking for him is like “Oh you’re the famous Jesse? I thought you’d be tougher looking”, and then they immediately meet their fate on the floor in the Family Guy dead pose. But of course, Green-Suspender Jesse is my second choice.

Jesse Personality:

Chaotic Neutral or True Neutral

Some days he’s a sweetheart, other days he’s a little shit. There is no telling what this man’s personality could be at any given moment. There is no pattern. But he’s naturally cheeky so who knows.

Also he’s one of those people that doesn’t process his emotions too well. So for my Jesse, he’s naturally sad at heart, which results in him finding it difficult to cope with extra sadness too well, but also having a constant longing feeling for happiness or moments of pure bliss. He finds that the best way to fill that void is helping people or being in the act of helping people. If left doing nothing for too long, he gets very unstable.

He also feeds off of other people’s happiness and joy, especially his friends. He’s his happiest around people he loves. If left totally alone, he can’t cope.

Prefered Armours:

Shield of Infinity

I adore Shield of Infinity! There’s just something about it that just makes my brain happy. It have this really regal/majestic vibe to it (which is also mentioned in game), and it looks to incorporate emeralds into its patterns. Not only that but spikes on the shoulders! Also its Lapis Blue in colour.

Tooth Chipper

I just really like how simple this one is. While the Underneath’s armours don’t get much love, I would just like to say I love this one. It doesn’t feel too cluttered compared to the other armours on offer.

Favourite New Order Member:

Olivia

I just can’t describe it, but I LOVE Olivia. She’s just that vibey bestie that’s not afriad to tell you you’re an idiot in the most serious or sarcastic tone ever. She’s also like that friend that is more like a sister and will annoy the hell out of you if given the chance.

I will say though, Jesse is normally my favourite NOOTS member, but he can be shoved to the side for favouritism punishment.

Favourite Old Order Member:

Ellegaard

Omg the redstoners are my favourites, what a surprise! But seriously though, for me Ellie is just really neat. She has that “I don’t like people” charm to her. Like, she’s very awkward in conversation and seems like she doesn’t realise what she’s saying until long after she’s spoken. She’s quirky, like me-

Ivor was also shunted to the side because of favouritism punishment. He can be a family in the corner with Jesse.

Favourite Side Character:

Gill

Why do I like Gill? Fuck you, that’s why. He’s just so goofy and huggable and “I don’t know wtf i’m doing” coded. He lives in my head rent free. He just wants to vibe but Aiden wouldn’t let him.

Also I project a lot of personality and ideas onto Gill, and I specialise in pairing him with Jesse in the most dumbass situations where Jesse progressively loses more braincells the more time he spends with Gill. I just love them <3

Favourite Villain:

Cassie Rose

I prefer Cassie overall. She’s mysterious, and she’s lashing out because of cruelty done to her in her shrouded past. You don’t know why she’s angry or why she resorted to murder, but you know enough to understand why she wouldn’t simply reach out for help. Also she’s a cat person, and I simply cat pass up a cat-person coded character.

Favourite S2 Character:

Jack

Personally I don’t like the Season 2 characters, with the majority of them just completely escaping from my memory until someone mentions their name. However, I do have my preferences in Jack, Nurm and Radar; the Beacon Town bois.

Jack was the one I got attached to the most, with Nurm followed very close behind. He radiates “cool uncle” energy that makes me smile every time, especially when he’s showing off or bragging. Even if people find his bragging habit annoying, I personally love it because it’s just a simple touch of world building and fun interaction. He’s just fun.

Leave or Stay:

Stayed in Beacon Town

This choice is basically “Be Gay or Do Crime” and I chose to be gay, just not gay for Lukas.

On a reasonable note, I honestly think the reason Jesse would have stayed in Beacon Town would be from a guilty conscience. He feels he’s to blame for the destruction and disruption of both Beacon Town and Champion City, and that everything that happened is all his fault because he was the one that first lured the Admin in, even if accidentally. He wants to fix his mistakes, not abandon them.

We are now entering more-so Headcanon territory

Ships:

Jesse x Gill

It’s a stupid ship, but its my stupid ship. I will love them till the end of time.

Lukas x Olivia

They have such nice chemistry, and also they’re both nerds that just click for me.

Ivor x Harper

We all know why.

Jack x Nurm

They are husbands, your honour.

Jesse x Cassie

This isn’t a very prominent ship of mine, and often takes a more friendship-like approach anyway. This is honestly just here because of AU reasons, as for some reason if I have an AU where Jesse and Gill don’t interact (either at all or really late) then Cassie is automatically Jesse’s best friend. This is the case for Lapis Swap and Ender Child.

Despite this, this ship is either “They’re best friends” or “They are specifically romantically insterested”, which is why I’m listing it as a ship. There is only one of my AUs that’s somewhere in the middle, but other than that it’s between those two options. Although I will say, there are only a total of four AUs of mine that have Jesse and Cassie interact like this.

Other than that, I still think its funny if regular canon Jesse had an “Oh she’s cute” moment when first meeting Cassie. Basically Cassie was Jesse’s “Omg I’m not just gay” awakening but he won’t dare to admit it.

Jesse x Lukas

I don’t generally ship this one, but it’s the ship that I love reading about and viewing art for. I just love the fanfictions and art pieces I find, with pretty much everything being some of the best works I’ve encountered for any fandom. Its the ship that I just follow the fandom for, but I still have a great appreciation for.

Canon Event:

I’ve never watched Spiderverse so I’m just guessing if I’m using the term right.

In my canon of MCSM, the canon event is Jesse’s childhood home being destroyed when he was a child. Yes yes, I’m going for the “Jesse is an orphan” trope, but its fine. This event is what pushes forward a lot of my canon and also AU stories, and is altered accordingly when needed.

So info about this day; Jesse’s home is attacked by griefers when he was age 6, resulting in him fleeing from home (and dad’s death). However on this particular day there were multiple presences in the area; Sammy, Jack & Vos, who were coming to visit the family as Sammy was Jesse’s biological aunt; Ellegaard, who was heading back to Redstonia with a crew of miners who had come back from a mining expedition; and Ivor, who was travelling to collect materials to take back to his lab. Out of everyone to encounter, Jesse encounters Ivor, who then fended off any pursuing griefers to protect the child. He then takes him to the nearest town to ensure Jesse was a bit safer.

This event can be altered in many ways to suit my AU differences, like encountering Sammy’s group, or encountering Ellegaard, or simply Ivor taking care of Jesse himself. I have even changed the time that the event takes place, or removed it all together. Honestly, if I make an AU revolving around Jesse, this is the spot that I look at beforehand.

AUs (listed):

Lapis Swap AU

Ender Child AU (Son of Soren AU)

Engineer Jesse AU (Son of Ellegaard AU)

Alchemist Jesse AU (Son of Ivor AU)

Jack’s Nephew AU

Secret Elytrians AU

Origins AU

Early Daughter AU

“It Never Happened” AU

Permanent Champion AU

Admin Order AU

If there are any AUs that may intrigue you, feel free to ask. I’m always happy to chat about them and answer questions.

Little Side Idea I Wanna Share:

I’m giving Jesse a parrot.

Yes, I know Lluna exists, but she’s still technically Stella’s pet. And also yes, Jesse may not be able to fully get over Reuben, but sometimes getting another pet is the best way to move on.

Also the main reason I’m giving Jesse a parrot is due to my post-canon events. Long story short, the Order is severely injured but Jesse has it worse and is permanently out of commission. The rest of the Order healed to a reasonable health before Jesse could, so they could head back to their respective towns. Although, a couple of days before they do, Jack and Jesse find a young parrot fresh out of the nest without any feathers except one single lapis-blue tail feather. Jack recommends (forces) Jesse to take care of the bird while he was recovering, as Jack could definitely see that Jesse’s mental state wasn’t too good, but also the parrot’s lack of feathers was due to parrot depression too. While reluctant at first, after the first night he started connecting with the parrot almost immediately as the two found their similarities really quick, and helped each other into healing (physically & mentally).

Basically my whole purpose for the parrot is for the analogy and comparision for healing. Jesse is devasted that he can’t do what he loves anymore because of his injuries, so there would be every chance that he would spiral downwards, so give him the one thing he needs to prevent that from happening; company. The others, despite their efforts, are always going to have to leave, so Jesse needs someone who won’t leave. Not only that, but Jesse is someone who just feels the need to help people, to help others. So in my theory, you give him someone who won’t need his side but also someone who needs his help too. So I gave him a parrot friend.

Also the parrot’s name is Lazuli, because she has lapis blue feathers. She was named that because of the singular tail feather she had initially though before she healed.

She also acts as a messager around Beacon Town, because why the hell not.

Hope this opens up a but about my personal canon of Minecraft Story Mode. I’m quite happy with what information I’ve given about my brain, but if you have questions, don’t be afraid to ask.

Have a good day!

#score speaks #mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm au #mcsm ships #mcsm ship #mcsm headcanons #mcsm choices

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raphael-angele · 2 years

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Teen Justice Team Dynamics

Talia: Reclusive Pessimist

Laurel: Bold Optimist

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Laurel: Elusive Dumbass

Jess: Elusive Chaotic

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Jess: Chaotic

Troy: Chaos Enabler

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Troy: Aggressive Sunshine

Raven: Soft Thunder

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Raven and Talia: You might think these two would be quiet with each other but no; these two are would create chaos if and when given the chance.

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Talia: Tries to avoid being the center of attention when in public

Jess: "LOOK AT HOW PRETTY SHE IS!"

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Jess: Dumbass

Klarienne: They're my dumbass

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Klarienne: Sweet Baby

Jacqui: Girlboss

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Jacqui and Troy: They're the parents of the team and they're just tired

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Troy: Cinnamon Roll Protector

Laurel: Cinnamon Roll

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Laurel: Idiot

Klarienne: Idiot in Progress

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Klarienne and Raven: Endless Mutual Hatred but has Respect for each other

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Raven: Good Listener

Laurel: Always talking about interests

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Laurel: Reckless

Jacqui: Care Taker

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Jacqui: Low maintenance

Jess: High Energy

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Jess: Chill Bastard

Raven: Stoic and Serious

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Raven and Jacqui: Basically the same as Jess and Talia

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Jacqui: Serious Leader

Talia: Even More Serious Secretary

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Talia and Klarienne: The only reason Talia treats Klarienne like a younger sister is because FOR ONCE she's taller than someone

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Klarienne: Rational Adult

Troy: High Maintenance Diva

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Troy and Talia: These two are cinnamon roll protectors (Raven and Laurel) but are also the Cinnamon Rolls at the same time

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quinnigallagherjones · 10 months

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Okay real talk would you rather see nick miller as a mystery detective or benoit blanc in an apartment sitcom 👀

OMG THIS IS SUCH A GOOD ASK !!!!! this is so so hard bc i think both would be so funny like nick as a detective would be SO chaotic, he already showed how he would be with julius pepperwood hahaha just such a dumbass detective 😅

bUT benoit blanc in an apartment sitcom having to deal with roommates would be just as hilarious !! he would constantly be examining things in the apartment / his roommates behaviour hahaha you wouldn't be able to hide anything from him like when nick and jess first kissed he would Immediately know that something is up hahaha

with all that being said i think i would rather see benoit blanc in an apartment sitcom !!!! let me know which one you would rather, i am interested to knowwww

sleepover asks !!

#also thank sm for the ask !!!!#ilysm 🩷🩷🩷🩷#katherine tag #mutuals tag #answered #ask

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exalok · 10 months

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presiding: What kind of trio prompts are you doing?

-> i got a list of, like, trio dynamics (i'm making it mostly romantic but it very much could be anything) and had started making a short royal ot3 thing for each where i can mess around with their expected roles or apply them straight, according to what inspired me

examples: dumbass/smartass/just vibing, chaotic good/chaotic evil/chaotic neutral, "i have a sword"/"i have a magic staff"/"i steal shit"......

of course some of them devolved into big fanfic plots because when i get going nothing stops me so now one of them is something where corvo's sent into the deep dark woods to deal with a monster and discovers the monsters weren't who he expected /throws confetti (also daud gets to be a big wolf and jess is the god of the woods and she changes age depending on the season and her current feelings about it) x)))))))) corvo himself has some funky shit goin on but he's the de facto human for now

#ask game

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shadow3142 · 2 years

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11 for Jessie, 31 for Adam, B for both of them, and 27 for Louise!!

Ok gonna be another long one so I'm sticking it under a cut

(sorry it took so long I answered it last night but my internet crapped out and wouldn't let me post or save it lol)

11. (Jessie) How do they cope with confusion?

Jessie's one of those types of people who will nod her head along and pretend she's still paying attention, when in reality she's trying to work things out in her head. She'll kinda stare at you blankly before snapping back into reality once she figures it out, like a "Ok I think I got it, but just in case, can you repeat all of that I wasn't listening." (Side note, she's actually a lot smarter than she sometimes may seem. Jess is very bright, but she has a tendency to work herself into a circle because she overthinks things).

31. (Adam) Who are they the most glad to have met?

Jessie, easily. Aside from the obvious, a lot of the reasoning as to why they have such a deep connection with one another is in great part due to Jessie's role in bringing Adam to where he is now. When they met, he was in a very dark, angry, and depressed state of mind, having been enduring nothing but the trauma of being a wanted vigilante for the last four years. Despite how things started between them, Jessie's stubborn will to hold her hand out to Adam was kind of a wake-up call for him and gave him that initial nudge he needed to get himself out of that pit, the rest of the help from everyone else coming later. But, in short, had it not been for her, he likely never would've seen his brother again, never would've stayed in Inkopolis and would've just gone back to fighting the octarians non-stop, never would've seen his mother again, and, above all, never would've met the love of his life.

B. (Adam & Jessie) What inspired you to create them?

Contrary to the plethora of lore I have for them, their starts were actually very simple. Jessie was just a persona I made when I got Splatoon 2 just so I had something to play as who later became her own character once my friend came up with Spoon and we just kinda went from there. Adam, on the other hand, was just an Agent 3 I picked out for my first playthrough of Octo Expansion.

27. (Louise) What causes them to feel dread?

Oho, a Louise question, at long last. He's a very skittish character, so he squicks easily at a lot of things, but out of all of it the only thing that can really make him feel that pure rush of terror would be anything involving his friends/family getting into danger. Zariah, being the chaotic dumbass that she is, digs herself into a lot of dangerous situations, so while Louise knows she's good at what she does there's always that outlying fear that one day she'll dig herself in too deep, and he wont be able to get her out.

#ask #tangotechnologies #OC: adam #OC: Jessie #OC: Louise #post

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trueadventuresofthemind · 3 years

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Jack Walker: My partner must be discreet and graceful.

Watts: *so gay he can’t sit straight, trips over a chair and apologises to it*

Jack:...I want that one

#cbc murdoch #murdoch mysteries #llewellyn watts #llewelyn watts #jack walker #watts x walker #walker x watts #jackwatts #daniel maslany #jesse lavercombe #chaotic dumbasses in love

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goshawk · 2 years

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e3 i miss youuuuu you funky little hawkkkkkk

#pleaseeeee i wanna see u. hes gonna forget me fjdjwlfnjldw fuckin dumbass.#ok dont mind me i just havent worked with him recently and dean is a lovely goshawk but i miss how chaotic e3 is #jess talks birds #:V

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chaoscryptid-inc · 4 years

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#jess be like: draws over self using a screenshot that came from a video for media last year.#chaotic dumbass (ooc)

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veshialles · 4 years

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Cool so I'm about half way through Dead Money (at least I hope so, because good gods) and Jess might be just a little bit in love with Christine

#and by 'Jess' obviously I mean I am projecting onto my OC again #unfortunately Jess is a chaotic dumbass so communication has been difficult but she held Christine's hands and said 'I'll come back for you'#(or something along those lines) and just like- dude I'm 🥺😭 that's so good omg #fallout new vegas #dead money #dead money dlc #courier six #christine royce #jess barker #ruby's ocs

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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You know what time it is ;). Jesse Pinkman visiting a zoo hcs heheh

pairing: Jesse Pinkman x GN!reader

warnings: swearing, drug mentions

oh you know he's a dumbass and is gonna act like it, too

"there's a horse house!"

"a horse house?"

"where the zebras and shit live when it's too cold!"

he's so chaotic, you practically have to put him on a lead or else he'll run off

he's probably clean for the day, and turns off his phone so that bald bastard can't reach him - he doesn't want to ruin it

you thought it was a good idea until he got to the reptile house

"yo, (y/n)! they got little houses!"

he loves the snakes

and practically begs you to take a picture when the keepers let him handle a big python or boa

he's so happy

you regret taking him to see the meerkats, though

"it says they're ambassador animals - what's that, like, they go to the UN and shit? what do they even talk about?"

you just shake your head and smile

at least he doesn't get into any trouble - except when he tries to smoke in the picnic area and gets stopped by a member of staff

Jesse fucking LOVES the reptile house so much he drags you back there twice

he practically runs to the front so he can watch the alligators feed

"yeah, alligators, bitch!!"

it makes you laugh, though

especially when he tries to play tug of war with a lion

the keepers explained it was an enriching treat for the animal when it wants to engage with it and it would be fun for visitors - although they did say that the lion won against 3 rugby players beforehand

he fell on his ass and nearly smashed his face against the glass within seconds

"that lion cheated!"

he laughs about it afterwards though

when a lemur jumps on his shoulder he just stands there

"hey, bitch, this is my favourite hoodie!"

you take a lot of pictures of him with different animals - including one of him with a butterfly on his face when you walked through the butterfly exhibit

he insists on going through the reptile house one more time before you leave

Jesse loves snakes

when one of the keepers said they had hatchlings he was nearly heartbroken that he couldn't see them

but then he saw the green anaconda and he forgot all about it

"(y/n), look at this one! do you think it eats people?"

#ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE #jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman imagine #jesse pinkman x reader #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad imagine #breaking bad #headcanons

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fanficdumbchic · 2 years

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You and Severen Have Mutual Feelings, But You’re Both Oblivious

Headcannon - Severen x Fem Reader - SFW

You both are obvious to everyone else in the Hooker Clan except yourselves.

Literally everyone else knows what is happening and that you both like each other and its become a subtle running joke amongst them that you’re both too dense to realize the obvious.

You both consistently put yourselves in situations so that you can be alone with each other.

The rest of the clan no longer questions this and assume that when it comes to going out to feed or do anything for the clan, you both are going together.

Jesse always smirks calling you two, ‘Thick as thieves, but dumb as sieves.’ Both of you assume this is because you’re chaotic trouble-makers because plot twist, you’re both dumbasses.

You assume that Severen doesn’t like you because you’re too soft. Severen assumes that you don’t like him because he’s too hardcore.

Mae and Caleb always tease you two asking when the wedding will be and if they’re invited. Still goes over both your heads because of your internal assumptions that the other doesn’t like you.

Severen makes any excuse to joke around with you or talk to you, sometimes even if it’s just to show you a cool rock he found. And you do the same.

You’re both very protective of each other, often coming to the defense of one another whenever you slip up with the clan or there is any kind of conflict.

Only Caleb notices, the subtle, bothered expression on Severen’s face when you flirt with men at the bar to lure them in for a feed.

Being the sweeties of the group, Mae and Caleb talk to Jesse and Diamondback about trying to set you two up. But Jesse always brushes it off, “Let it play out, those two could be married and still unsure of how the other one feels.”

Whenever a lady catches Severen’s eye, you joke, “Gonna make her your mate?” And you’re startled when he always responds with a somber, “No.” The response always lacks his usual, over-the-top style.

It gets to the point where the rest of the clan begins to openly joke about you two.

One night, during a motel room poker game, you playfully try to help Severen cheat, but Jesse sees it and comments to Severen, “Oh why don’t you just marry her already....” Severen blushes and abruptly gets up from the table, “I fold.”

You feel hurt, assuming that the mention of such a thing must have made him uncomfortable rather than embarrassed for being called out. But Diamondback nudges you and encourages you to go talk to him. When you express that that’s probably not a good idea because you don’t think ‘it’s like that’, the table collectively rolls their eyes. Jesse chuckles, “I told ya, you can lead a horse to water, can’t make em drink...”

Mae insists, “Go talk to him, trust me.”

You finally do and the table erupts in sarcastic clapping and exasperated declarations of ‘finally’ or ‘christ that took long enough’.

#Near Dark #Near Dark 1987 #Severen Van Sickle #Severen #Severen x fem reader #Caleb Colton #Mae #Jesse Hooker #Diamondback #fanfic #fan fiction

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minx067 · 2 years

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Hello, hello! It me! I have some exciting news this evening. I'm finally releasing Chapter 6 to Ghost Of Haddonfield! I apologize for the wait, I kind of struggled with motivation for writing recently, or more importantly wasn't really sure how to transition from the previous chapter to this smoothly and so on and so forth (Because spoiler alert, Jess is a dumbass who only plans chapter by chapter plots) but I got there in the end. Once I finally got into the swing of it I found my footing again.

In this chapter we see the return of one very special character, and now he's making it damn well understood that he's here to stay. Fuck around and find out.

Thank you again for your continued love and support and I hope you enjoy the chapter and all others to come!

Taglist: @megafrost4 @dead-bxtch-walking @sugarstarxoxo @ireallyhateithere2 @necas7325 @michaels-orange-mask @reyloisperfect @gore-loving-whore @vapurrrrwave @eldaryan @myers-meadow @goosecadet @liv-victoriano @mz-bats @myersobsessed @chaotic-am @utena-akashiya @macabrecakes Ask to be added to the taglist 💜

If you didn't catch it before, I painted a portrait of our lovely Michael without that pesky mask to hide his sweet face. Go check that out if you haven't already, it's the 📌 post at the top.

Universe/Fandom: Halloween 1978 (Non-RZ) Rating: Mature/Adult. Minors keep your distance. Chapters: 6/? Chapter Triggers/Warnings: Strong language, Strong depictions of violence/gore, angst, knifeplay, blood-play/consumption, masochism/sadism, marking, possessive behaviour. Overall themes: Tension, Drama, Slow burn, Abuse, Strong Language, Past trauma, Manipulation, Strong depictions of Violence/Gore, Phsycological/ Physical trauma, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mental Illness, Murder, Romance, Angst, Loss, Death, Comfort, Mild humour, Romance, Friendship, Fluff, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, mild Non-con themes, Knifeplay, Stalking, Marking, Obsessive/Posessive behaviour, Choking, Explicit Sexual content. Reader details: Female, first-person perspective. Characters: Female reader, Michael Myers (Non-RZ), Samuel Loomis, Laurie Strode, Jed Perkins (Non-canon OC), Jamie Harris (Non-canon OC), Parker Reed (Non-canon OC), Josh Hewit (Non-canon OC), Erin White (Non-canon OC)

Ghost Of Haddonfield: Chapter six

It feels strange being home again, like you've been absent from such comforts for months although it's only been a few days. Everything is exactly as you left it several nights prior when Jamie had panicked and called you back to the asylum. It's not perfect, but it's a better atmosphere than the cold and emotionless walls of a mental asylum or hospital that you're slowly coming to despise. Right now home is your sanctuary and you'll be seeing a lot more of it for the foreseeable future, seeing how things at work have gone so very, very wrong.

Taking time off was your best option, having already discussed the matter with the head doctor and manager who both surprisingly came to the same conclusion, agreeing it would be a wise decision given the fact that a major investigation is still being conducted into the lack of proper safety precautions and an unacceptable number of protocol failures being swept under the rug by head management.

Jamie had even given you a heads up that police were currently requesting any survivors or witnesses to come forward about the incident. They'd undoubtedly want to bring you in for questioning seeing that you'd been one of the only people involved in the confrontation that ultimately left many dead and one paralysed yet alive, claiming you'd aided Michael in his path of death and destruction. You hadn't exactly been of much help to the police in your prior state; an utter mess of emotions unable to even remotely form comprehensive sentences.

Nothing made sense. Why should it? When has anything ever truly made sense? Why does anything happen and why do people behave the way they do?

Things simply went from bad to worse. Maybe if you'd stayed out of it and remained home from the beginning then everything would've turned out alright, moreso for yourself than anyone else. It isn't likely that much would've changed but it would have spared you all of those scenes that remain fixed in your head. You wouldn't have seen the hollow, dead stare of Josh, nor listen to the haunting wails of Erin as the life left his lungs. You wouldn't have been used as bait or bartering by Jed. You wouldn't have even been subjected to Michael's twisted sense of mercy. None of these things would have happened if you'd simply put the phone down, now you're paying the price for one small mistake.

Your fingers curl around the blanket that wraps you safely in it's soothing knitted warmth, nuzzling into it tiredly whilst you rest on the couch and flick through the channels on TV whilst simultaneously attempting to stay as far away from local news channels as humanly possible, though fate still refuses to even remotely acknowledge you let alone side with you. Each time you settle on a channel it switches to an ad break, frustration simmering away steadily within your chest more and more with every passing moment. Eventually you give up flicking through the channels and decide to settle with the cheesy film station, questionably and blindly throwing the remote behind your head with irritation and listening as it clatters loudly against the hardwood floors in the lounge that leads into the kitchen.

It's not the TV your eyes finally settle on though but rather the window opposite of you that displays those moody noon skies painted in streaks of steel, pale blue and exotic Amber that peeks cheekily through the foreboding slate coloured clouds from earlier in the day that linger amongst the playful colours. The faint pitter patter of cold little rain droplets hitting the windows one after the other seemed to ease up as the October afternoon loitered. Soon the nights would be closing in even earlier in the day and the streets would light up even brighter than ever with the mischievous cheshire grins of carved Jack o'lanterns and playful strings of orange and purple halloween lights; glowing eerily and offering festive spooky beckonings to excited children dressed up for trick or treating with family and friends.

A dumb smirk creeps across your face, staring blindly out of the window as the memories of your own childhood come flooding back to you. The days where you would obsess over planning Halloween parties with friends, plan each other's outfits, carve pumpkins, play amongst the massive and colourful heaps of red and gold leaves in the park. As you grew older work took more priority within your life, until eventually those favourite festivities became distinctly that of a distant memory. This year was supposed to be the one to change that and take back even just a tiny portion of those memories and make them reality once again, though after all that's happened you're beginning to question if you can even stomach the thought anymore.

Perhaps in time things would become easier-kinder, even.

You blink groggily, trying desperately to shoo away the fog that was beginning to take over your head again, similar to times when alcohol takes the wheel and slowly drives you into intoxicating yet blissful oblivion, but you haven't drunk a drop. It's as though every eye lash weighs more than it should and gravity has been turned up ten fold. You want to fight it, refusing to accept that it's bringing you to your knees so very easily, laughing in your face whilst pushing it's snake-like fingers into the back of your head; It's a losing battle. You plead for it not to take you again, back to that place of eternal night, subjected to the cruel clutches of mental torment; nightmares that fail to make sense, demons that first appear to you as angels before shedding their deceitful disguises.

The fight finally ends, forcing you to bend to it's overpowering strength. Your head lolls and the muscles of your face relax slowly, releasing the tension of the day. Though the television blares in the background your eyes are almost closed and from your chest comes the first distinctly peaceful sigh before the world around you tenderly melts away into a murky and silent abyss.

If you refuse to sleep on your own accord, the body has ways of ensuring that eventually you won't have a choice, you don't get to argue and fighting back is futile. It rips you away from the wheel, even if only for a little while.

After some time you begin coming around from what feels like a ten minute nap, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the blinding brightness of the TV screen that stung your eyes still playing before you catch sight of the small clock ticking quietly on the table. You squint at it blearily, sitting up and rubbing your eyes whilst picking up the blanket draped halfway on the floor. "Damn…" you mutter, realising what you thought to be a short nap had in fact turned out to be a two hour sleep. It was however the one occasion which you hadn't suffered from a horrific nightmare, though you don't recollect dreaming of anything in particular either.

For once it seemed that peaceful sleep found you and welcomed you with open arms as it rocked you to sleep in it's warm and merciful embrace. Grateful doesn't come close to what you might call yourself, but there's always the saying 'don't count your chickens before they hatch'.

Your hand searches around on the table as you rub your tired eyes, blinking away the sleep and frowning in confusion after failing to locate the remote for your blaring TV before finally recalling how you'd thrown it in frustration. The sound of it hitting the hard wooden floors was the last thing you vaguely remembered before passing out, but it's not there when you look. "The hell? Could've sworn I threw it here," you mumble quietly, searching around the small area for a moment before huffing and grumbling once again to yourself, "Guess Milo mistook it for a toy of some sort." A cool breeze washes across your exposed arms as you wander into the hallway in search of the mischievous cat, shivering as the chilled air licks eagerly along the flesh and prickles each and every hair up straight. The house is usually kept warm and the windows shut.

A concerned frown creeps along your features as you traipse around to find the source of the unwelcome cold, following it straight to the bedroom to gaze upon the partially opened window dotted in clear droplets of rain. You blink, scrunching your nose upon approaching it and hesitantly shutting it. You can't remember ever opening a window, nor why you'd have any reason to, considering you grow cold rather easily. You shake your head dismissively before turning around to head out of the room but pause jarringly quickly, something catches your eye and your skin almost certainly turns five shades paler.

The perfect outlines of a pair of shoe prints, damp and slightly mucky, stained on the floorboards just in front of the window, facing away from it rather than towards; They don't belong to you for the sole reason that you're barefoot and nobody's visited you since the hospital, up until now. There’s only one thing on your mind.

Get out.

It's a fight or flight response that can't be controlled, especially when you've now come to the realisation there's an unwelcome guest lurking somewhere within your very own home. Your feet waste no time in carrying you away from the bedroom and towards the kitchen, rounding the corner so fast that they nearly slide out from beneath you on the slippery floor whilst racing desperately for the kitchen. There's no time to react however when you abruptly find your entire weight crashing violently into the ground, hitting it with a heavy thud after having tripped on something-no, someone. It takes a moment to shake out of the dizzying shock of your body hurling into the floor at full force, grunting as a sharp wave of pain surges through your arms and knees that took the brunt of the collision. It's the sound of breathing that beckons your attention behind you, not your own however.

You know them though, the very sound is one that still haunts you, plagues you within your sleep and silently mocks you whilst it watches your fear rot and twist into the stench of constant paranoia. It acts like shackles, binding you to it. It’s a knife in the gut slowly twisting or a constant hammer on the head. The anxiety is like being hooked up to a cattle fence; not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things incredibly uncomfortable. That's the downside of knowing things are awry instead of living in blissful ignorance. This time it isn’t the paranoia talking however, it’s the real thing.

Heavy, slow footsteps inch daringly closer as you shove yourself from the ground and stagger towards the kitchen counter and clumsily grasp onto it with trembling hands whilst reaching out for the backdoor handle to violently jiggle it only to find that it’s locked with the key nowhere in sight. A panicked string of profanities blurt from your lips as you rattle the door back and forth to no avail before finally whipping your head around behind you. The sight that greets you turns your stomach, unable to help the choked cry that tumbles from your lips. The ghostly masked figure of Michael stands idly in the wide open doorway from the lounge to the kitchen, his arms hanging either side of his hips yet clutching no weapon. He merely stands there and observes you, his pitiful prey now cornered and at his mercy, through the blackened eye holes of his mask where no light dares enter. His chest rises and falls with deep yet slow breaths beneath his damp navy blue overalls, seemingly having been caught in the rain showers from earlier in the day before letting himself in completely unnoticed. A deep set unease creeps up your spine knowing that he could’ve entered hours ago.

Pressing your back into the edge of the counter harshly your fingertips search the surface from behind your waist to feel around for something to defend yourself with and daring not break eye contact with Michael for a single second. That’s all it would take for him to charge you and end you on the spot considering his sheer size in comparison to your own, even from a distance towers over you menacingly. Your fearful eyes watch as he begins to approach again, the sound of his boots thumping across the tiled kitchen floors until he pauses directly in front of you.

Terrifying isn’t the right word, but more so an incredible understatement. He’s simply watching you, observing you beginning to slowly crack and split at the seams beneath his predatory gaze. Was it something that brought about a sense of morbid amusement to him? Could it perhaps have been the idea of how a cat that toys with a mouse for entertainment until it ultimately grows bored, kills it and moves on to the next best thing?

Finally, your trembling fingers locate the wooden knife block placed on the counter from behind you, wrapping around the base of a knife before ripping it from the holder and swiping it quickly at him. He takes a swift step backwards, narrowly dodging the sharp blade as it comes hurtling past his masked face followed by another swipe, and then another, each being easily backstepped by Michael. You don’t know what your plan is against this brute of a man, all you know is that you want him away from you. After one last swipe of the knife Michael puts an end to your defiance and catches your wrist in his solid grasp with the tip pointing mere centimetres from his neck. He holds your arm in place with ease, tilting his head inquisitively whilst his hungry gaze burns into you from beneath hollow void-like eye holes. Struggling is useless and pulling away earns a harsh squeeze until the blade slips from your fingers and clatters to the ground, keeping you in place for another long moment simply as if enjoying watching the hope fade from those ever determined and stunningly bewitching shades of earth that glistened within your eyes. You swallow, narrowing your eyes at him darkly.

“Do it,” you rasp to him, only met with the sound of his sharp, steady breathing. “DO IT!” You bark in his face, “If you’re going to kill me then just fucking do it!” A choice of words indeed, but perhaps not the correct ones. Just for a sheer second you swear the sound of a deep, almost guttural growl reverberates through his lungs and mask.

Fascination soon becomes anger, or perhaps something more malevolent-Animalistic even, quickly overpowering and twisting your arm around your back then slamming you against the countertop and pinning you there with the strength of his left hand alone. It happens so fast your mind struggles to comprehend the disorienting movement. Michael presses his entire weight into your back and reaches overtop your head to pluck yet another knife from it’s holder; the steel blade shimmering menacingly and reflecting your face within it as he pulls it from the block with incredible precision as though he wants you to catch a glimpse of yourself within it’s mirror-like metal as a reminder of just what you had asked for, or rather demanded. He leans into you even harder, purposefully cramming your sternum and stomach against the cold counter top that so very cruelly burrows into the soft flesh to leave lines of faint purple bruising and all the while tilting his head whilst listening to the sweet sound of your pained grunts as they grace his senses.

Humans crave things, naturally. To some, a sense of bliss may be gained from many things in life be it drugs, food, sex, or something else more peculiar in nature. Perhaps for Michael it’s the sense of power and control that he craves; a morbid pleasure in the idea of watching someone he considers to be lesser fight back or beg, scream or cry. He sees it all, senses every emotion that surges within your mind and body. Maybe it's what feeds him, some might even say that those emotions are his drug. It's hard to speculate the inner workings of such a being when you're once again at his mercy.

Michael's hand snakes up your back to clamp around the back of your neck, pressing your face into the counter roughly as he leans over you; the ghostly white of his mask only visible from the corners of your eyes with the glint of the knife raised high in the air above his head. It feels familiar, as though you're experiencing some mild form of deja vu, remembering something similar happening within your nightmares; how the steel blade always reflected his mask in it. The last thing you would ever see before you die.

You demanded this. This is what you wanted after all, right?

He brings the knife down with every ounce of strength, but the pain never comes. No cold steel cutting into flesh and scraping against bone. You flinch, the loud crack of the blade plummeting into the countertop directly beside your face to perfectly mirror your terrified and tear fogged eyes. Michael keeps it firmly jammed into the surface, squeezing the handle until his knuckles turn a frosted white.

Did he miss? No, no he's far too precise to have made such a daft error, he wasn't aiming for you. This was intentional. If he wanted you dead, you already would be.

You clench your jaw as a cruel shiver creeps up your spine, still pinned with an unmoving strength that keeps your cheek pressed against the cold worktop for what feels like hours. His crushing grasp on your neck seems to loosen ever so slightly before completely releasing it and seemingly entwining his fingertips within each lock and strand of hair on the back of your head.

It's only a mere moment of relief that ends with your face shoved down again, this time being grasped by your hair. It's not as tight as the way he'd clutched your neck but it's still far from a comfortable experience, although that may also be said for the entirety of the unfortunate situation.

Michael remains still as he observes you like a hawk, silently revelling in morbid fascination and simply allowing himself to watch you tremble beneath his overpowering authority. He tilts his head in the slightest upon noticing that your eyes aren't focused on the silver steel blade lodged inches from your head but rather that of his masked face. It's a half defiant, half fearful or perhaps even confused frown. A curious head tilt is the more or less obvious action of him awaiting a response since you so clearly have something to get off your chest.

There would be no point in attempting to agitate the man with words seeing as there's nothing to gain from such insolence. Afterall, he'd offered you his twisted sense of mercy back in Smith's Grove and is seemingly doing it once more against his worse nature. If it weren't for the fact he'd been so rough up until now then perhaps you'd have felt more inclined to show some gratitude.

You instead greet his wordless request with a spiteful scowl, holding his unseen gaze with your own bitter silence. He seems to catch on quickly, letting an irritated growl rumble up through his lungs before untangling his fingers from your scalp and backstepping a few inches to allow you some room to peel your face from the counter and finally face him again. Your apprehensive eyes squint, examining every detail from the slight aging of the white latex mask, to the old and fresh crimson stains that had soaked into the navy blue fabric of his attire, or the tiny round ruby beads splattered across his black boot-like shoes and most noticeably the six small, perfectly round holes scattered throughout the torso of his unwashed overalls still tainted with his own blood, blackened with age from many years passed. His close proximity offers a strange blend of smells; A mild, earthy dampness melding obscurely with metallic copper and natural body musk, noticeable yet not excessively offensive.

You stiffen the longer you stand in silence merely staring at one another before finally allowing a faint sigh to escape your lips, glancing at the knife still wedged into the counter then back to him. "You're not here to kill me...Are you?" You question with an uncertainty laced tone. No response. He's as silent as you'd predicted, his arms hanging loosely by his sides whilst his broad chest continues to rise and fall with every emotionless breath.

Soft creases form between your brows as they knit together thoughtfully, trying to better understand the motive. Although, nothing is of consequence to someone so emotionally disconnected; motives become meaningless. Holding his stare becomes difficult, though having a completely mute monster of a man who towers over your own smaller frame would naturally feel intimidating, not to mention one who could change his mind in the blink of an eye. "I...I don't know why you're here. I have nothing to give, nothing to offer you."

It's as though a switch abruptly flips on in his head the second the words dared to leave your lips, perhaps to him it had come across as insulting. Michael's scar riddled hand, painted in faint patches of dried blood, swiftly snaps away from his side to roughly snatch your wrist and tug you closer to him, large fingers snaking around it to squeeze firmly yet not enough to cause any pain. The movement catches you off guard, causing your legs to stagger slightly from the sudden and harsh pull. You grimace under his clutch, wincing upon feeling the squeeze to your wrist tighten as a mute reminder not to resist, of course that's all it really takes to convince you to comply. It may be your house, but you're no longer the one in charge, that much is evident.

Michael positions your hand between the minor gap left between your bodies, watching as your fingers unfurl to reveal the long peach tinted scar he'd left from before, still not quite healed. He gazes at your open palm for a few brief moments presumably admiring his handiwork like a perverse piece of artwork on display; he is the artist, the knife his brush and you as his canvas. The fingers encircling your wrist loosen until eventually releasing and trailing up the skin to graze along each knuckle then lightly cupping the back of your hand in his palm where he tenderly strokes the pad of his thumb across the large scar that stretches from the base of your index finger to the crease of your wrist. He slowly raises his head to meet your conflicted gaze, soft earthy irises swirling with confusion, pain and fear. Perhaps he revelled in that sensation though, those emotions, he craves them like a starved animal; a steady river of adrenaline coursing through his body and pumping itself throughout every vein and further fuelling that devious, bloodthirsty desire.

Somewhere within the dark pits of the mask's eye holes you catch the faintest glimpse of a sinister pair of eyes staring back at you, deep into your very soul. Just for a moment you stop breathing, feeling your limbs become weak and fragile beneath your own weight. The realisation doesn't dawn on you until your feet begin moving, not of their own accord however but rather that of Michael gently guiding your back against the door until finally the gap between your torsos is almost completely nonexistent, his masked face mere inches from your own whilst one hand continues to clutch your palm, the other settled against your stomach as it encourages you backwards so you're pressed firmly against the frosted glass window of the door.

It's a slow yet tender dance with a demon who disguises itself as a man, except now he's had your taste on his tongue he can't bring himself to be without that taste again; a sinfully divine flavour, one that haunts and mocks his mouth every time he lays eyes upon your precious, supple skin. Comparable to a plant without nutrients, a vampire without blood, a fish out of water, earth without oxygen...What happens then? What do you become? You starve, you die, you become nothing. What does a being do when it's low on nutrients? It rations what it has, savours and appreciates everything it has left regardless of how big or small that portion may be.

The beat of your heart echoes and pounds within your frail ribs, barely able to contain it's mighty rhythm. What is this feeling? It's abundantly clear that he's not in fact here to kill you. No, it's far more complicated than you can comprehend. It isn't only your breathing that's changed pace-quickened, but Michael's as well. It's the sound of harsher, deeper breaths puffing through his mask and beating its warmth across your flushed cheeks through failing to push aside the lingering awareness of his fingertips leaving your belly and making a steady ascent up through the centre of your chest. It leaves behind a trail of warmth, setting every nerve alight that you can't extinguish even if you try to. You tear your gaze away from him, but his fingertips are quick to latch onto your chin and force your head back in his direction.

You don't get to look away from the man who granted you the mercy to continue breathing.

An irritable growl bubbles through his lungs as he watches you squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to bend to his demands. He'd been incredibly patient with you, but there's a limit to what he'll put up with and this is one of those moments. Michael grunts before releasing your hand from his own, reaching up to your shoulder and carelessly ripping the fabric of your top down over it to reveal the canvas of soft, untouched skin stretched over a solid round bone. His eyes fixate on it eagerly, allowing another somewhat hungry growl to pass his lips before giving you a last glance and tapping his fingers along your jaw in slow succession as though to offer you one final chance to obey his silent demand, but you can't. You can't bear to stare into that mask any longer or it'll drive you mad if you aren't already.

A soft sigh escapes him, accepting your wordless defiance. You made your bed, so now you must lie in it. He releases your chin briefly before securing his fingers along your jaw in a brutally tight grasp that is sure to leave bruises, shoving your head to the side so you're forced to look in the opposite direction of him. Rubbery rustling greets your ears followed by the sound of something soft hitting the floor close by. The previously muffled breaths become clear and vivid, heating the crease of your neck as he leans in to ghost his lips across it. It's the very same sensation as what you'd felt back within the confinements of his cell nights ago, the slightest tiny prickles of gritty stubble scratching against skin.

That's not what frightens you however. It's the subtle upwards curve you sense when his lips press to your bare flesh that sends paralysing shivers through your limbs.

He's smirking. Smug bastard…

Before your mind has time to properly process the grazing of his teeth against your neck you release an unholy shriek of agony as he suddenly bites down onto the ball of your shoulder, hard. You jerk back violently though his grasp on your jaw is solid and unshakeable, as are the teeth that sink deep into the bony flesh until it punctures and pierces easily through the flesh. Michael had already offered you numerous warnings only to be stubbornly and unwisely disregarded, and thus he took it upon himself to show you just what defiance earns. If it weren't for the fact that he wanted to hear your cries and pitiful pleas for his own sick pleasure, perhaps he would've clamped one of those suffocatingly large palms over your mouth to silence you. No relief or comfort finds its way to you and now you are to reap the consequences or your foolish actions. He bites into the flesh with ease, leaving behind deep holes from every tooth that grinds mercilessly against the bone only to glide his tongue over the burning, bloody cavities and further ripping horrific screams from your lungs the longer it goes on.

You part your eyes as streams of tears cascade down your face, trickling from your chin and onto Michael's fingers to roll down his paling knuckles. The pain comes in roaring waves of searing fire, licking vile streaks of hot pain up and down the mutilated skin. The broken sobs and desperate pleas fall upon deaf, careless ears whilst predatory eyes soak up the enthralling expressions of your wide, open mouthed cries and red tear stained eyes. It isn't the playful, affectionate nip of a lover teasing their partner but rather that of a cruel beast who gratifies his own sick, selfish pleasure through the beauty of another's suffering. No amount of thrashing, crying, kicking, screaming or scratching convinces him to stop. It won't stop until he's satisfied, not until that bloodthirsty psychotic hunger is satiated.

Not until you understand that you are no longer the one in control.

Perhaps the sleek steel blade of a knife would have been easier-cleaner. But this method is far, far more interesting and personal; He can feel every tremble, every shiver, every emotion. Such rich emotions-such divine agony. If the pain of others translated into power then he might as well be a god amongst many.

After what feels like an eternity of screaming and begging for the pain to end, it does. Michael finally releases you, letting you slump to the ground with a heavy thump, dizzy and starved of oxygen from holding you so tightly that his fingers had slowly migrated down to encase your throat, thus restricting the ability to scream or even breathe adequately. He only stops just as you're on the verge of passing out from pain and lack of air. It had been a far worse experience than what you could've possibly imagined. The cruel points of his teeth abandon your mutilated arm that throbs violently, dragging the soft, damp tip of his tongue up the dark dribbles of crimson trickling from every aching incision before licking away the excess from his lips and teeth. His bloodthirsty half lidded gaze never left your face for the entire time, at some points even allowing a faint growl to leave his lungs the harder he bit down.

A trembling hand comes to cradle the wound, hissing loudly as your fingers ghost over the deep tooth punctures and coat each finger in warm streams of blood. Even after experiencing just one of his twisted and excruciating methods of 'persuasion' you still can't bear to look up at him who towers above your slumped figure. You know he hasn't put the mask back on yet seeing as though it's laying only mere feet from you, though he approaches it after a moment and bends down to pluck it from the floor and refasten it over his head once more. By now it's an understatement to claim that you're confused and afraid-but rather bewildered and terrified. Even after all of this, you still don't understand what he wants nor why he has invaded your home.

"What do you want from me?" You ask weakly, struggling to form the words from the dry burn that crept up your throat, now desperate not only for precious water but painkillers. Perhaps in hindsight it was a ridiculous question, but one you still so terribly want confirmation on.

Michael cranes his head down at you and gazes at your pitiful mess of a self splayed against the door, simply letting the sounds of his breaths be the only response you hear. As far as anyone knows he hasn't spoken a single word since childhood and intends to keep it that way. If he can't get you to understand now, then he will make you understand in whatever way it takes. Persuasion can always be achieved very easily even without words.

He reaches out and snatches up your wrist, yanking you to your feet in one swift motion before turning it over to reveal your scarred palm to him again, then turns to his right, leaning over and plucking the knife still standing proudly from the counter he had previously stabbed it into. Michael offers out his own palm-the same hand he cut you on, then drags the shimmering steel blade across the length of flesh just as he had done with you from finger base to wrist crease, cutting through the skin with ease.

It's a shocking sight, catching you off guard. At first your eyes widen in horror, watching as he purposefully glides the blade through his skin yet refuses to even so much as flinch or groan. Utter silence, frightfully detached from all sense of emotion.

He then takes your hand again and presses the freshly opened wound to your identical scar and holds it there briefly, allowing his fresh, warm scarlet to stain your flesh before letting go and pushing the bloodied palm to your chest-directly over your heart whilst his other hand, still clutching the knife, guides your own hand overtop his heart. Michael tilts his head at you again as though to ask 'now do you understand?'

The wounds are utterly identical to one another. Now he has your attention, your scent, your taste and most of all...Your life. Perhaps it's a game to him- one that he plays incredibly well, or perhaps there's something more to all of this insanity. He'd only demanded one thing of you after all, and now he has it secured and bound by blood and the wordless promise of commitment.

Your cooperation.

#michael audrey myers #michael myers #og michael myers #dead by deadlight #maskless michael #michael myers dbd #haddonfield #halloween 2021 #halloween 1978 #halloween #the shape #samuel loomis #michael x reader #reader pov #horror slashers #horror fiction #michael my beloved #gore warning

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lumienyx · 3 years

Note

For the DADWC: “You did not just compare me to a cat / mabari / nug / [Thedosian animal of your choice].”

Here, Kitty Kitty

Pairing: Male Amell/Anders | Rating: M | Word Count: 1889

Tags: Fluff, Banter, Idiots in Love, Humor, Anders is a Little Shit, Amell is So Done

Summary: "What," Amell gritted through his teeth, "did you just say?"

"Uh..." Anders tried for his most winning smile. Took an innocent sip of his coffee. Looked at Amell with the softest gaze he could muster under such circumstances, when it was all he could to bite his lip and not laugh. "What did I say? I was talking a lot, wasn't I? Saying lots of clever, wonderful things—"

"You did not just compare me to your fucking cat, Anders!"

🎶 Clean Bandit - Rather Be ft. Jess Glynne

A/N: LE VOILA I FINALLY FINISHED ONE OF THE MULTITUDE OF AMELL/ANDERS FICS IN MY DRAFTS

Meet the Warden:

Deimos looks like a cinnamon roll but can actually kill you, and in fact, if you annoy him enough, will reanimate your corpse just so he can enjoy killing you again. Chaotic, and neutral until pissed off enough—then evil. Favors Spirit and Entropy magic, threatened a demon once into teaching him necromancy. Starfang is his absolute favorite toy weapon in the entire world, even though he's not exactly any good at sword-fighting, but he makes do with lots of Force-magic-powered swishing. Ultimately: a dumbass.

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

@dadrunkwriting

"Anders?"

"Deimos."

An exasperated sigh got swept away in a gush of wind. "Anders..."

"Ye-es?"

"What," Amell gritted through his teeth, "did you just say?"

"You did not just compare me to your fucking cat, Anders!"

Against all instincts of self-preservation from what would probably be suffocating bouts of tickling, Anders begged to differ,

"Why—that's it!" It was purely by accident that Anders gestured a bit too strongly with the hand holding his tea and ended up spilling some dangerously close to where Amell was lounging on the other side of the picnic blanket. It was, he supposed, fair enough that the apologetic smile he offered was met with a deathly glare. "That is something I said, yes."

It was suddenly impossible to stop smiling then.

"Anders—"

"Aw, you like the sound of my name that much?" Anders batted his eyelashes. "I'm flattered."

Deimos' magic gleamed forth from under his clenched fists in a dance of angry blue sparks to match the lyrium-blue of his eyes hovering just above pale skin. A beautiful dance to the mesmerizing tune of his mana.

(It was the first thing Anders had grown to love about him. After all these years, just the hint of it was still enough to spur Anders' own mana to rush to the surface, longing, aching to entwine with the force that exuded so much energy, and warmth, and light, even sizzling as it was now with irritation.)

"Yes, actually, I do," Deimos said slowly, flashing him a grin, "I'm imagining how pretty it would look on a gravestone."

"You know, I'm fairly sure that's also a habit you and Ser Pounce share. He has this glare every time I forget to feed him..."

"I am nothing like your stupid fucking useless bloody cat!"

"Hey! You gave him to me—what does that say about you?"

"That I made a huge mistake and you're never getting nice things again."

"Anyway, my point is," Anders ignored the blatant lie, "Ser Pounce is a noble beast. And, well, sure, you don't laze around and purr all day, but I was thinking more along the lines of how cute you both are—"

"I am not cute," Amell said, arms flailing and lips curling into a pout.

"And all this hissing when you're angry—see, you're doing it right now! Also, the pickiness about food, the soft fluffy hair, and really, it's uncanny—"

"Anders," Deimos growled in the cutest of possible ways, "I am not cute. I am strong, and intimidating, and—stop laughing—I hunt dragons for fun, void dammit, and I've killed an Archdemon, and probably more people than there are residents in this city!"

Anders recalled Amaranthine's population being somewhere around a few thousand, and he'd suspected Amell's list of victims to be ridiculously large, which... well, fair, considering his line of work and propensity for questionable life choices.

His very strong propensity for questionable life choices.

(Anders loved his questionable life choices).

Anders narrowed his eyes. "You sure it's not more?"

"Maybe more," Amell said, saccharine smile and all, which may have looked eerie to anyone else. Anders only smiled back. "And I might be tempted to add to that list. Promptly."

Anders finally let the laughter loose.

"What in the void is so funny, shithead?"

"Oh, how you wound me!" Anders cried. "Wasn't it 'honey' a minute ago?"

"A minute ago you weren't being a dick," Amell grumbled. "Don't test me."

"I'm sorry," Anders said, "so sorry, but I do have trouble buying into this fearsome and dangerous persona you're trying to portray." A dozen more sparks shot from Amell's hands, instantly fizzling out in the air. "I mean, come on—you can't even grow a bloody beard at what, twenty?"

"Almost twenty-one—"

"Now, how do you expect me to find you anything other than adorable? But listen, maybe you'll get whiskers one day..."

"I swear to the fucking maker, Anders..."

"Who you don't believe in, by the way."

"I will cut off your coffee supply," Amell seethed, "for an entire month."

Anders gasped, a hand shooting to his heart. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Anders countered, "You love me too much," his heart skipping a beat and brain catching up too late to what he'd said, what he'd implied, and curse him and his chronic inability to keep his foot out of his mouth because this was far from the first time this has happened and again and—

Deimos' glare at once softened into that gentle, almost indulgent, a bit distant look (that Anders loved so terribly and couldn't look away from, those eyes luring him surer than any demon into temptation).

"And that's why," Amell said, grabbing at the life-giving drink Anders clutched tight to his chest, "I'm only doing what's best for you—and for the whole Keep. You're too jittery and nonsensical on coffee."

Anders wiggled out of Amell's grasp and tumbled to the side, taking another sip in defiance. "I'm just having fun."

"Too much fun."

"No such thing."

"Is in your case."

"You could use a bit of it," Anders offered. "Look at you all sulky." Amell's glare, impossible as that may have seemed, turned even darker, he no doubt expecting Anders to follow with another feline comparison. And technically speaking, Anders didn't, but, "Come on over here, I'll pet you and you'll feel all better, I promise," he cooed, devolving into fits of laughter at the way Amell's face twisted into a genuinely adorable scowl.

(Anders loved that scowl.)

"You know what? Fuck you," Amell declared. "I have better things to do." He stood up quick enough to knock over his own cup of disgustingly strong tea Anders was sure would wither the grass where it spilled. "You sit here and wallow in your stupid fucking coffee."

"What is this problem you have with coffee? It's what keeps me alive and you like me alive, don't you?"

Amell was about to say something, then simply waved him off. Took a bit more time than strictly necessary grabbing his staff and carefully reattaching Starfang to his belt, and shooting more affronted glares Anders' way before actually heading off back towards the Keep.

Ten, Anders started his usual count, nine...

Amell didn't quite make it this far, this time. Made it all of five steps, and stopped. Took another step, came to another halt. And then, since he, apparently, didn't have anything better to do after all, turned round to face Anders for what would surely be another tirade, most likely, if only Anders hadn't beaten him to it,

"Here, kitty kitty..."

Anders dodged the obscenely huge snowball Amell launched his way, jumping up to swerve out of the gush of cold as it spurred back for a renewed attack, then melting it in a swift burst of flames as it swirled around and shot towards him once more.

Amell growled, "I dare you," his murderous glare positively catlike, really, "to say that again."

Anders bit his lips against a grin that he was sure showed through anyway. "See, you even growl like a little kitten," he teased, "so adorable."

Amell overreacting in some way was expected, but him tackling Anders to the ground, armor and all, really wasn't. A split second, and Anders found himself in a heap of tangled limbs and torn up grass, spilled coffee and bits of food clinging to both of them—dammit, Deimos—and dangerously spiky armor parts poking at places that really shouldn't be poked.

"Get off me!" Anders shouted through fits of laughter while Amell kept him still and kept grumbling something about foolishness and punishment and Maker forbid tickles, and try as Anders might to roll them over to get on top, his strength was no match for Amell's. The lean muscles imbued with force magic brushing along Anders' body—quite nicely, come to think of it. And really, come to think of it, he didn't quite want to escape.

And so Anders stopped struggling—and kissed Amell instead.

It was a tender press of lips, and then it wasn't. Another tentative kiss turning deep, and heated, so perfect, as Amell's tongue slid past his lips, and his hands fisted in Anders' clothes, and his mana seemed to latch right onto Anders' soul.

It wasn't always easy speaking with Deimos. Harder still to say the things he meant, the things Anders wanted to say but hid instead behind the safeguard of jokes and teasing.

Like this, though, Anders could say anything and everything he wished.

The kiss like a dam opening up to let his emotions through in a cascade of pure, blinding sensation—things Anders never would let, never could let himself feel when all his world was was the grey walls of Kinloch Hold. Things he still couldn't quite put into words, not completely, but could channel through his own mana and twine it with Amell's. A tentative hope laced with tingling affection and the strange ache of joy interlaced with something deeper that seemed so terrifying and yet felt so right.

A word Anders couldn't let himself speak even as the emotion overwhelmed his entire being, and so he simply drowned all that he dared not think in what he let himself feel.

Soft yet demanding lips moving against his own. Amell's drawing him close. Mapping his mouth as if for the first time. Drinking him like a man the last drops of water in a sun-glazed desert, as if they weren’t ending up tangled in each other's arms most every night at this point. Magical, beautiful nights that, though completely inconducive to sleeping, were worth the occasional fatigue because Deimos in his bed, and in his arms, and in his life was worth everything.

They drew away far past the point when breath became far too lacking, and still traded stray kisses, wet swollen lips meeting softly, lingering, perfect. And then Anders was smiling too wide to be able to kiss back.

"What were we arguing about again?" he asked, entranced by the paths of sunlight glinting against the black of Amell's hair.

Deimos scoffed. "Nice try. You're not getting off that easy, dickhead."

"I'm not?" Anders rocked his hips, feeling the distinct hardness in Amell's trousers and earning a muffled groan. And another fierce, messy kiss. "Speaking of dicks..."

And there was that adorable growl again, which Anders chose to leave sans comment this time, and instead licked his lips, slowly. Shot Deimos a meaningful look and a few scarce sparks of lightning through his clothes to dance and tease over the skin beneath.

"Fine," Amell relented, leaning down to bury his face in Anders' neck and mouth at the sensitive skin there, "fuck first, punish later."

"Or both?" Anders' attempt at a flippant tone could scarcely hide the shiver wracking his body at the suggestion. "Both are good, don't you think?"

Anders could feel Deimos' grin against his skin. "Oh, I love," he sighed, "the way you think."

me writing this:

#dadwc #anders x amell #anders #deimos amell #thought i was out of practice writing handers but holy shit am i out of everything finishing amell/anders for the first time sljfdkldsj #still #please accept this silly humble offering #ser writes #dragon age

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hopefulobjectmiracle · 2 years

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Glee for the blorbos thing

@twinkkurt also asked for glee, so here it is!

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): tot absolutely no one's surprise, it's kurt hummel! his journey is wonderful, he had amazing character development, he's kind and compassionate, he's funny af, he helped me with my sexuality, and his character is overall such a comfort for me.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): blaine anderson 🥰 he's sweet and kind and his face is just so precious!! i love that adorable dumbass so much <3

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): elliott gilbert, isabelle wright, or carole hudson-hummel. all of them were just wonderful, positive figures in my favorite characters' lives and i wish we'd gotten more of them.

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): i think jesse st. james counts as a problematic fave, ahah! i think he was the perfect 'asshole' character, and he's just so damn funny. also...rachel is pretty controversial and problematic, so i'd say her too. basically i adore st. berry, my pathetic chaotic faves <3

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): sebastian smythe. no explanation required, i just want to see him suffer.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): shelby. fandom always talks about sue and schue when it comes to inappropriate teachers, but shelby was much more disgusting (she slept with a fucking student) and she had no redeeming qualities as a character. if anyone on the show deserves superhell, it's her.

#evelyn answers stuff #anti sebastian smythe

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anxiouspotatorants · 3 years

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HOLD UP!!! You immediately had me at the "Twilight AU but Rory is the vampire" here 👀👀👀👀. Color me intrigued AND inspired.

Ok so first off, the 'reveal' conversation. The COMEDY potential!! Just Jess being overall nervous but also pretty curious to know about what Rory as a vampire is like, whereas Rory is trying pretty hard to make him be more afraid and to hopefully get him to run away screaming so she can have some reason to tackle him, but this guy just isn't budging!

The shiny skin reveal! Like first off, THIS CAN'T BE THE SAME WITH EDWARD BECAUSE RORY'S NOT PLANNING ON STRIPPING IN FRONT OF JESS HERE (no matter how much she might like him despite her better judgement). Imagine the complete lack of suspense when she just uncovers her arm and shows Jess how it sparkles into the sunlight.

Rory: This is the skin of a killer, Jess!!

Jess: Wow, didn't know murderers had a continuous discount at Claire's for silvery glitter.

Rory: 😒

JESS WITH THE ICONIC GOOGLE SEARCH. THE DREAMS ABOUT RORY COMING IN WITH THE FULL DRACULA GETUP, MENACINGLY LEANING IN TO BITE HIM AS HE TAKES HIS "Paint me like one of your french girls" pose. Jess waking up from it not knowing whether he's scared or has just figured out a new kink for himself.

Jess dodging all of Rory's attempts to get him to stop wanting to see her by just coming in and asking her all of these questions while they're in the middle of the recess crowd in school. Rory giving up after the fourth attempt and answering all of his questions in a hushed tone.

Jess: So you can read people's minds?

Rory: Yes, except for yours. I still haven't figured out why though.

Jess: Huh, maybe Liz's all-round smoking diet during her pregnancy had its benefits after all.

Rory: Jess!!

I'm not sure whether I'd want Rory to be an older vampire like Edward or a more newly-made one, and in this case Lorelai is potentially still human but knows about Rory's condition despite Rory trying to keep her in the dark about it when she first turned. They still haven't found a way to break it to Richard and Emily though, despite their various brainstorming sessions over it.

Lorelai: We could get them drunk and just announce it to them!

Rory: Wonderful, and they'll accept their formerly estranged granddaughter as an undead creature.

Lorelai: Hey, you only asked how we should tell them, you never asked about how they'd handle it.

Jess just straight-up asking if she would eat the bullies in the high-school. Rory vehemently replying that no, she doesn't eat people, she just drinks the blood, but if he must know,......yes she drank from Chuck Presby once because she was angry and hungry and his blood almost tasted like Gatorade, so she's refrained from trying out the other bullies' blood. No, Chuck doesn't know what happened, he just thinks some girl went a bit too far with her hickey.

Jess and Rory talking to each other late at night and organizing a "studying" session where they just end up watching various B-movies, and sometimes Jess ends up falling asleep on the other side of the couch while Rory looks on at him and look, she's not being creepy here, she's just sitting on her side admiring this insane boy who still hasn't woken up one morning and decided that being friends with a vampire girl isn't in fact one of the smartest choices he could make in his life, and she can't help but like him because of that, ok? Also she really needs to hear more of his thoughts on some of the other American classics, it's imperative.

Rory ending up protecting Jess from an ongoing car that almost hits him instead of the whole "other vampire craves his blood" storyline but Jess ends up spraining his arm when he fell to the ground and Rory just feels guilty that she couldn't have saved him in a better way and tries to avoid him after that. Unfortunately she can't because this dumbass is walking along her trail in the nearby woods with his arm in a sling and goddamn it Jess, you're scaring away the deer!!

Yes. A thousand times yes. To all of this. The comedy. The pining. The Google search idea and elder Gilmore announcement. Yes to it all. But may I raise you some alternatives/more ideas:

In the books the sparkling looks more like the vampires are on fire. So when Rory reveals some skin in the sunlight, Jess is like «Shit, stop doing that do you have a death wish?!» and Rory just gives him a shit eating grin and waves her arm in and out of the sunlight. Also what if she doesn’t strip but takes of her sweater to reveal a t-shirt and Jess has a momentary heart attack thinking a vampire was about to flash him? All this being said the Claire’s silvery glitter scene is too good to replace ;-;

There just has to be a point while they’re close friends that Rory tries to impress/scare Jess by pulling him over her shoulders and carrying him while she speed runs. But when she tries to say something badass or seductive she has a brain fart and the only thing that comes out is: «Hold on tight... spidermonkey.» Jess doesn’t get to react before she runs, and when she’s finished the first thing he does is puke (apparently it’s hard to get used to that running according to SMeyer). Rory: «Oh no I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done it, it was stupid and now you’re hurt and-»

Jess: «Spidermonkey???»

Rory: «oh, you’re fine.»

Jess: «SPIDERMONKEY????»

Rory: «I’ll just leave you here for the bears,» and walks away.

I’m not sure what her vampire origin story should be. It could be all the Gilmores are vampires and they bite each other at a certain age after procreating (and the eldest Lorelai decided to be an asshole and bite Rory early) or it could just be Rory like you said. In that case maybe Christopher became one and bit Rory because he wants her and Lorelai and him to be one big happy family of the night? But Lorelai refused and Rory protected her? Or maybe it was a stranger who passed by Stars Hollow?

Jess questions Rory’s humanity not after being saved by a car crash (pre friendship that is, I still think your idea should come in afterwards) but because he consistently skips school and on a sunny day («How can I lock myself in a stuffy dusty dark room on a day like this, uncle Luke?») he comes upon Rory hunting and eating a dear. That and/or she saves him from the swan. And because it’s Rory and she’s a clumsy new-born she saves him by speeding over and suckerpunching the swan so hard it does an action movie sweep miles into the forest.

Rory’s cover for sunny days in Stars Hollow is that she’s staying at Chilton longer for an assignment, or in the case of her still going to ST High it’s visiting their library for resources. Because she hates missing school, that cover is usually true, and she just refuses to go into any spot with sunlight:

Rory: «I have this skin condition, I have sun allergy»

Madeleine or Louise: «That’s not a thing is it»

Paris: «It is [starts infodumping]»

She usually locks herself in the darkest corner of the library and speeding away in a flash at closing time before anyone can spot her.

Rory has lost count of the amount of times Jess has dared her to drink from him. She refuses because she’s scared if hurting a friend:«What if I taste your blood and it’s so good I can’t stop? Like it tastes like heroin or ecstasy or coffee?» Jess usually counters with either «If you could resist Chuck Presby you can resist me» or «What makes you think I’d taste so good, huh?» Rory always ends up thinking she would have a blush right now if she was still human.

Jess wants to be a vampire too because hey what else does he have a chance at doing in life? But Rory refuses because she sees the potential in him and what he can be, and doesn’t want to take his chance at a good and normal life away from him. But at some point they get into a dangerous situation where Jess’ only options are death or vampyrism and Rory finally gives in. Also this is our AU and we get to decide which Twilight vampire-rules apply and in this AU vampires age mentally (it’s a bullshit excuse SMeyer and you know it).

This one depends on the origin but hey it’s an idea: While Rory was still a new new-born, her and Lorelai locked themselves up in the crap shack for a full week watching all the vampire movies they could in search of information that could help them. Rory decided to do empirical experiments too, and had garlic food, got a cross close to her, wore silver and stabbed her arm a wooden stake. The garlic food (like all food now sadly) tasted crap but didn’t kill her, nor did any of the rest. The wooden stake hurt but it healed fast.

Rory gets both Lorelai and Jess to order insane amounts of food just to watch them eat it because she misses the taste and needs to live vicariously through their tastebuds. In the AU where both Gilmore girls are vampires, they order so much food because they have no idea what the normal amount is (chaotic vampire Gilmores for the win).

Also I did not realize how well Bella and Edward’s powers fit Rory and Jess? Like of course Rory would be a mind reader and of course Jess’ thing would be an all-encompassing shield. Sometime when he’s still human and «bugging» Rory she poses the theory that maybe his head is just empty and doesn’t have any interesting ideas. Jess pretends to be hurt (okay he’s a little hurt but he’d never tell her that) and Rory immediately falls into apologetic mode.

Rory wants to go to prom because it’s a human teenage activity she refuses to miss before starts figuring out what to make out of her vampire life. Jess isn’t hyped for it but promises to get tickets. They end up both going as vampires because that altercation happens a week or so before. Jess struggles with not eating everyone in sight but he sticks close to Rory and they leave without a single drop of blood on their hands.

Also Luke as Charlie! Paying attention to the beat attacks and being the only one who noticed that Rory doesn’t actually eat the food on her plate anymore (her mom eats her own plate then switches it with Rory’s) and when Rory and Jess reveal the secret he momentarily closes down and has to take a fishing trip to process everything. But he comes back a ride or die wanting to protect the poor kids.

I also feel like there should be multiple moments where one is insanely attracted to the other and questions this attraction strongly. Like Rory crushing on Jess and wondering if it’s bloodthirst or just the last remains of her human teenage hormones. And Jess being full on into Rory while still acknowledging the fact that it could be some vampire seduction powers, but what the hell does he care? There’s a cute undead bookworm right there and if he has to go he doesn’t mind dying to be a pretty girl’s lunch meal.

#why does this AU work so well what the hell #also I loved your ideas so much!!!#The Google search the Claire’s line Jess consistently bugging Rory into sharing everything #this feels like a crack fic with a heart and I’m here for it #gilmore girls au #twilight au #literati #rory x jess #vampire au #midnight brunch

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