nxblesavage-blog

[nxblesavage-blog]

     "Not animals. Humans. Humans attack humans."       His brows furrowed. "For no reason." He'd seen it       happen, seen big men grab runners and groups       of people corner ones out on their own.

                    "It's close to home." Not close as in near,                      but rather ... similar. As similar as he could                     find.

           ”i’m sorry, i don’t really follow, it’s the woods. there’s             a path. last i checked wild animals don’t come and              outright attack humans for no apparent reason.                             bringing to my next point…..why do you live                            here…in the woods….alone…”

#abittangledup

[nxblesavage-blog]

   He watched the woman with a mix of curiosity and caution. She seemed so bold for someone so small. He knew it had to do with the thing in her hands. He didn't know what it was, but he'd seen what it could do. He'd seen that it could hurt, though he didn't know how. For once, he didn't want to find out.

                "Your ... job." 

   He didn't understand. He knew the word, knew its meaning. He'd learned a lot from his time in these woods and his few forays into the town. It was the context he struggled with. What had her there, specifically. At that time, in those woods, holding that thing and pointing it at him. He frowned. He didn't know how long he'd been here. Long enough for the weather to change. Long enough to miss his home, his real home, not this ... whatever this was. This strange world. 

               "I don't know. I    too many questions."

     The way the man spoke to her felt off, as if he didn’t speak English as his first language. But he said them perfect, the ones he copied from her. He was strange, and until she could get to the bottom of how he got there he would still be a threat.

                         ”I’m patrolling the woods, because it’s my job.”

     Narrowing her eyes, Emma felt like she’d knew if the guy lived in the woods. She would have seen him, wouldn’t she? How many times did they have to traipse through them to find who the hell knows what?

                         ”And how long have you been living here? And                           where exactly is here? I don’t see a house.”

#verumexamore

[nxblesavage-blog]

He feels ... grounded, in a way. Not restrained, not contained like he's felt too many times since he was brought to this city. But for too long, it's felt like all his thoughts, all his senses, are clouds floating just outside his reach. Too many threads pulling too many different directions, and he's never felt like he could keep his feet. 

But this man, with his touches and his voice and his hummingbird heart, he brings the clouds down. He steadies him in his own way. He feels needed, and for the first time in as long as he can remember, it feels like he has direction. To get him home, to keep him safe, to stay with him, the way he asks. Not that it was ever really a question. No matter how much he wants to chase those men down for what they've done, he couldn't leave this man even if he tried. 

He nods mutely. He's trying to think, trying to figure out how best to get the man to where he wants to be. His legs still seem unsteady, and Jay isn't sure how much they are ready to hold. He thinks    yes, carrying is the best way. He can cover more ground, and he can cover it faster. 

And, a part of him thinks, he will be closer. 

Without warning, but with more caution than he's used to exercising, he slips an arm under the man's knees and one behind his shoulders, and he scoops him up like he weighs nothing at all. To Jay, he really doesn't. He's light, and he feels so small and fragile in his arms, like a bird with a broken wing. Jay is struck with the inexplicable fear that he'll break him, somehow, this frail little thing, and he holds him all the more carefully for it.

"Where?" he says. He knows this place, knows the names they give their paths as well as anyone could. This place is not his home, but he has learned it nevertheless. Unknown is dangerous. Familiar is safe.

And yet, somehow, nothing has ever felt safer than the stranger in his arms.

[ W h i m p e r i n g —- ] is scarcely held back by the time they pull apart. Even though it was him, it was his choice to pull away, there is a part that aches to take more as much as he wants to give. Fingers itch to push away fabric, to feel the scalding heat of skin against his palms. God how he wants for things he’s never thought. For those lips at his throat and those hands kissing bruises down his spine. For feeling this man’s weight pressing him down, suffocating him.

Each touch is like breathing air after drowning.

It tears him apart yet keeps him together, keeps the tremors from his body as he’s guided up to his feet. The man bades him to show him and Lucas feels an answering call of ‘Yes. Anything.’ that he does not understand. Normally he would bristle at the notion of being ordered about. But there is a certain amount of good nature this man seems to draw to the surface with each slow contact. Where layers of mistrust should keep him from leaning into that body, Lucas finds himself nearly circling his arms about broad shoulders as he all but nuzzles in close with a sigh threatening to slip free.

Can he walk? No. Not yet. Despite the rather enthusiastic display, he has little strength to count on to make it the length of distance to his apartment. A brief smile threatens to slip free as fingers set to work away that quiet snarl. It was for him, for his sake, that those handsome features are twisted up with rage for him.

“Please,” he whispers softly, asking perhaps moreso for this man’s sake than his own. As if he can sense the bubbling anger if it were his own and knows it would be best for him to stay, for them to be close while this was still fresh. A part of Lucas is terrified that if this wild man leaves he’ll wake up alone, bloodied, and cold in the alley once more.

“Please…stay with me.”

#schxlar #v; the lamb and the lion #|| these two are going to be the death of me

[nxblesavage-blog]

He doesn't know what this is, this press of lips, this shared breath, but it feels right. It feels like he's found a piece of him that was missing, like he's found shelter in the storm. It's warm, even as it trembles like a leaf in the wind in his arms, and all his senses are at once soothed and inflamed.

He presses his brow to the smaller man's, focuses on his heartbeat and the sound of his breath. There is still a part of him that wants to run, wants to find the ones who inflicted this pain and show them how wrong they were to touch him, to hunt him. He would show them what it meant to be hunted. 

But to do that would mean leaving this man alone, and he can't ... he just can't. He's only just found him, found this, and the thought of letting it go is almost physically painful. So, he doesn't. He doesn't let go, doesn't give chase, because there is something more important than wrath. Someone more important. 

"Show me," he says. He's reluctant to rise, but he does, gently pulling the smaller man to his feet. He keeps hands on his shoulders, firm but careful, to steady him. His eyes scan the man's slender form, mapping out every mark on his pale skin and tear in his scratch clothes. His lip curls into something like a snarl at the sight of them all, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest. But he grits his teeth and presses his brow to the man's again, as reassuring a gesture as he knows.

"You can walk?"

He looks unsteady, shaky on his feet like a newborn first finding its legs. He worries he'll fall like they do. Stumble.

"I can carry you."

[ R u s h i n g —- ] breath slips free as he watches the man, the animal, the dangerous strength perched so carefully in front of him. Fingers frame the man’s face, holding him closer for the sheer relieving calm it brought. Like each point of contact offered his frayed nerves a moment’s peace. Noses brush and he can nearly taste the other’s breath through the coppery tang and lingering dredges of pain. Somehow it’s akin to the last piece of a worn out puzzle finally slipping into place when he closes the distance to press lips against those so near his own. As expected it’s like a drug, like a balm for the months, for the years, of being alone.

It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

Where was home? It was a cold apartment seven floors up with a closet of threadbare clothing and a bed scarcely warmed for how often he stayed awake, reading articles, writing, anything to ignore the ache in his bones. It was the soft press of warm lips, the heat of mingled breath, as it was the pressure of a forehead against his own despite the tingle of pain from bruises. It was the large hands holding him as if he were something to be handled with care, something cherished. It was the way Lucas couldn’t stop kissing his savior no matter how crazy it seemed because he is tired and this, them, feels right.

Thank you.

Words are there on his tongue but never set free. Fingers snare into the fabric of the man’s shirt and he licks away the taste of home alongside the familiar flavor of blood. Instead he pulls away just far enough to look up into dark eyes.

Why can’t he shake the feeling he’s been claimed?

“It isn’t far. I can show you.”

Or better yet, why does it make him feel happy?

#schxlar #v; the lamb and the lion #|| IM DYING #THEY ARE KILLING ME #also this is already like groot and rocket level co-dependency issues #xD

[nxblesavage-blog]

"Would you...would you care to s-stay the evening with me?"

"I don't want to go ... I want to stay." Where it was quiet, where it was warm. Where the sounds and sights and smells didn't threaten to drown him. Here, with Lucas ... it was the closest thing he had to a home anymore.

He didn't want to go.

"I want to stay with you ... always."

#v; the lamb and the lion #|| because touching is important #and I can't with his face #schxlar

[nxblesavage-blog]

Home. He knows home, only he thinks his home and this man's might be different. He is not from the jungle, not from anyplace wild and free. He is from this maze of a place, and it is not his home. 

Every nerve in his body seems focused on each point of contact. He's more aware of the touch on his arm than he's been aware of any contact in his life, and he unconsciously shifts closer, until their knees touch and the air they breathe is the same. He's curious. Fascinated, even. But he is also scared, scared for this fragile little thing who's been beaten down so mercilessly.

There are monsters in this city.

"Home," he says. His voice sounds coarse in his ears next to the man's. "Where is home?"

He will take him there, and he will stay with him. Protect him. Tonight has shown him that this man cannot be left alone, and the thought of something like this happening to him ever again ignites those embers in his chest again. No. He does not know why, but he knows this man is his. His to protect. His to comfort. His. 

"I will take you there."

[ S a f e t y —- ] is a strange concept after so long being on the brunt end of violence. Yet here is this monster of a man looking at him, touching him with such tenderness that makes him nearly weep. Tears sting the corners of his eyes, slipping out past bruises and swollen flesh. Were he more coherent then he might pick up on the little things. Like how those hands are steadying him or how he suddenly doesn’t feel so shaky.

Safe.

The word has been told for years. Force fed down his throat until the bruises and blood were synonymous with ‘safe’. It’s been a crutch that society has tossed at him instead of reassuring him that he’d find his Sentinel soon, that it was the best thing he had in life to look forward. Only that opportunity came and went. He was well into his twenties and one of the few who hadn’t found the right one.

Outcast.

Freak.

Those words became equated with safe.

Shivering, he almost moves away from those hands but then he just feels safer the closer he gets. Trembling fingers dare to reach out as his eyes dart across the man’s face wondering just who this guy was. Lucas feels his gaze waver as eyelids flutter, his face leaning into the tender contact, starved for it. A delicate hand lands upon the strong forearm and he looks up at the man, the wild animal that chased off the would-be abusers. For the first time in years Lucas thinks he finally understands the meaning of that word; Safe. Warmth. Protected.

Fingertips reach up, touching the man’s cheek.

“H-Home…please.”

#schxlar #|| omg yes #v; the lamb and the lion #tw: abuse #|| ugh I'm having an emotion

[nxblesavage-blog]

Jay did, falling into step with the taller man. "Your family ... they won't be there?" It seemed like a safe assumption, but it seemed safer to ask. Jay was trysting, but he wasn't stupid.

"Yes, and oh, My family is beyond crazy honestly." Half a smile appeared and he shook his head. "Aye, follow me if you would like."

#thecelticones #no matter where I queue

[nxblesavage-blog]

He crouches in front of the small one, head tilted and brows furrowed as he makes such pitiful noises. Jay wanted to go after the men. The anger he felt still burning in his chest screamed for him to give chase, to teach them, but there is a stronger urge now: the urge to stay, to protect. It's so intense, and it's all focused on this one creature in front of him. 

He doesn't know how to comfort him. He's keenly aware of every strained breath and muted whine, and each one twists in his chest in some new and unfamiliar way. He wants to make it stop, not for his own sake, but for the little man's, but he doesn't have their words. Not enough. Not the right ones.

So he does the only thing he can, reaching out to nudge his arms away until he can press the flat of his palm to his pale cheek. He guides his chin up, tries to catch his eyes, tries to make himself smaller. Equal. Un-threatening. "No more," he echoes. "Safe."

There's something about this man. Jay doesn't know what it is, but he feels ... brighter, somehow. Warmer. Every one of Jay's senses sharpens to a point, and yet everything feels more ... balanced. The city around him doesn't seem so loud or so bright. Nothing seems as abrasive. Nothing but the quiet breaths and the hummingbird heart, and the pale skin against his fingertips as he traces the lines of the man's face.

"Safe."

[ P a i n —- ] is familiar as of late. A pair, he assumes a Sentinel and his Guide are the common attackers. The smaller man, the one that holds his arms, is the one that’s familiar from the classes he’d taken in the summer for his anthropology major. Granted they hadn’t precisely bonded well, Lucas hadn’t thought things had been this sour. But then as the other boys he’d befriended all found their Sentinels it was as though the world changed. All the friends in the world were now enemies and the beatings became commonplace in his life.

When the second punch comes a sharp cry slips free unbidden and deep down he wishes he could get it to stop. He wishes he could change the way things were or that maybe, just maybe, he’d find his own guardian instead of falling prey time and time again. Lucas wishes he wasn’t so weak, that he could stand up to them but he’d never had the strength. Not against the Sentinels, not against the fists that broke bones with all too practiced ease. 

But then it stops.

The next punch doesn’t come and he’s left blind with blood and pain. Sagging against the wall, his body shakes, curling in on itself as he sinks to the ground. There are shouting cries he hears distantly and then the sound of footsteps as they flee from the scene of the crime. Lucas is aware of how there is still someone here.

“P-Please,” he chokes out and hides himself behind his arms despite the feeling beneath the pain that this person wasn’t going to harm him. Lucas has known only abuse though, jarring words and the taste of his blood for several years while he waited, while he hoped.

Now he was alone.

“Please n-no more—“

#schxlar #v; the lamb and the lion #tw: violence

[nxblesavage-blog]

Jay let out a quiet chuckle. More of a huff, really, but his lips were quirked in quiet amusement.

         "You were loud. You sang.           Do you remember the song?"

     He was genuinely curious,      head tilted and eyes bright. 

John gave out a soft sigh as he  scratched the back of his head, nodding slightly in response to the question.          “Listen mate, if you got me back          ‘ere in the state I was in last night,          an’ gave enough of a shit t’ actually          stay, then th’ least I can do is buy          you breakfast.”

#ohbxllocks

[nxblesavage-blog]

He hates this place. All the noises, the smells ... everything's so busy. He misses home. But he can't leave. That man, his uncle, he prowls the city like a predator, and Jay has never felt more like prey, not even when he was staring down the jaws of the jaguar. In this great, unending city, he feels trapped. Caged.

But he also feels ... drawn. Like there's something keeping him here, some invisible tether that pulls him in every time he thinks about running away.

Maybe it's that tether that leads him to this place, or maybe it's just idle wandering. He's on the roof when he hears it, the smack of skin hitting skin and a quiet yelp that, for some reason, makes his whole body seize. When he peers over the edge, he sees the source: two men, one pinning the other against the alley wall. Another predator   this place is full of them. His arm is drawn back. He means to strike the other one again. 

For some reason, the thought makes Jay's blood boil. He doesn't think; he just acts, running to the roof's edge and jumping. When he lands, he rolls, the momentum carrying him forward. He uses it, letting it drive him forward, and he hits the bigger man at a full sprint, tackling him away from the small one. The big one spits and snarls and shouts, but Jay isn't listening. All he can hear is the relentless flutter of a heartbeat that isn't his own. Scared. Terrified. And Jay's heart pounds an furious rhythm in his ears to match it.

He will see if this predator is so bold when he becomes the prey.

#schxlar #v; the lamb and the lion #|| let's do this!! #tw: violence

[nxblesavage-blog]

Jay stood in the doorway, not altogether sure what to do with himself. The man spoke quickly. Moved quickly. Everything he did, it seemed he did it quickly, and Jay was struggling to keep up. Too much to process in too little time.

He did look down at his clothes, frowning. He had found them in the woods, a few more layers to keep the chill off his skin. He didn't like them much, himself, but it was more because he wasn't used to them and less because he found there to be anything wrong with them. They were clean, by his standards.

      Apparently, Sean had different standards.

He frowned. "Shower." He tested the word, but drew a blank. He'd never heard of one before, but he didn't want to admit it. He already felt lost enough without admitting another shortcoming; it felt like this man had him at a disadvantage, and the feeling made him anxious. Maybe he would've been better off taking his chances with the Wocky, whatever it was. 

But he was committed, and admittedly, he was curious. So he swallowed what was left of his pride and muttered, "Where is the shower?"

        ”Back to my place.”

A nudge of his head had been given to across the path – the Hare already starting to lead Jay away from the woods and down the windy yellow path. Sean’s house hadn’t been that well hidden, aside from a few scattered trees the orange house had been pretty easy to find – if you knew what you were looking for. The Hare, not really surprising, had the only orange house in Wonderland.

"You aren’t really my size but you need a bloody shower and I’ll be damn if you are going to wander around my house naked or in those dirty things you call clothes. In other words, you can wear something of mine.”

He had disappeared into the house, leaving the door open for Jay to follow when he gave a nudge down the hall.

There was really far too much space for just one man alone which was why he shared his house with his sister. Shay, of course, was hardly even around.

”Go on then. You do know how to work a shower I hope. You have that look in your eyes of being a completely lost little oyster. When you’re done – just meet up with me in the kitchen and I’ll decide what to do with you from there.”

          It had seemed just his luck, that he would pick up a stray.

#wonderslittlehare #|| he's kind of hopeless

[nxblesavage-blog]

      "Yes. Here." He gestured to the woods around him, then            raised a pointed brow. "You're wandering. Alone. It's dangerous.            These woods ... not safe, not for strangers."              .

          “……you….live here?                 here…in this…very place. why?                    i intend to know it. that’s what scientist do.                    they explore, i’m e x p lo r i n g .”

#abittangledup

[nxblesavage-blog]

Jay perked up at the mention of eating, though he wasn't sure exactly what room service was or what it had to do with it.

          "I eat."

       Not enough, lately, and not the food he was        used to, so the prospect of a meal was a         welcome one. But he deflated a little, cutting        his eyes over at John.

              "You ... will let me stay?"

       He hadn't seemed very interested in Jay's        company the night before, and though Jay was        still a bit ... socially inept, he didn't want to        overstay his welcome.

John smiled softly, pressing his lips together as he started to feel awkward. It wasn’t even like he could’ve crept out, he was sure this one would’ve probably stayed put until he got back.          “Okay. Well, thanks. I um…          I was gonna order up room         service, if you wanna… stay,         an’ eat. If you do that sort of thing.”

#ohbxllocks

[nxblesavage-blog]

"There are more of them? Your family is strange. You know somewhere safe?"

"Yes, but let’s just get out of here before anyone appears again?"

#thecelticones

[nxblesavage-blog]

Jay shrugged, hugging his arms closer to his chest. It was cold, yes. Very cold, and Jay still hadn't quite gotten used to the way his hair stood on end and his skin prickled with chill bumps, but it was still better than seeing her shiver.

"I am fine," he said, nodding firmly. "I'll stay." He wasn't going anywhere, not unless she did. he would stay there the whole night if he had to, because the thought of leaving her alone in the street, shivering and sad, made him feel cold in a way that delved far beneath the skin.

He glanced over, smiling at her. "Mary. It's a nice name." It brought back vague, fleeting memories of a soft face smiling down at him and a melody, hummed quietly, that he could still hear in his head sometimes.

"This place ... you stay here often?" It didn't seem like much of a home, even by his standards. It was cold, desolate. And it smelled.

He wasn’t leaving. And now Mary, for all her gifts of intellect and intelligence, was left confused. She wasn’t used to people actually wanting to help her. Teeth sank into the cracked skin of her lower lip and she just watched him. “——M-Mary. I’m Mary.” She also failed to name her surname, mostly because it was posted everywhere. The news still ran a segment at her parents request for their runaway daughter.

They said she was kidnapped. It would damage the Babcock’s reputation to know that she just up and left because she was sick of them. Besides, there were things here that allowed her to see her monsters again. A thought that made her curl up even tighter.

"What?" Her head snapped up and she frowned, watching him even as he pulled his coat around her. She wanted to deny it (she honestly did) but it was still warm and she was so cold. Without really realizing, she pulled the thicker, warmer coat closer around her with a sigh. But what brought her comfort, would bring him discomfort.

"—Thank you, but you’ll be cold as a result. There’s no reason for you to stay here with me. I’ll be fine. Please."

#booiisms #v; litost

[nxblesavage-blog]

"What does it   what does it mean?"

“     You don’t? Hm, well may I show you how?”

#blxckbxrn #|| he's like whuuu

[nxblesavage-blog]

Jay frowned. Distrust was still somewhat of a foreign concept to him, so he felt more confused than wounded, and no less determined to do something to help the girl. She was right, she didn't know him. Maybe that was a good place to start. He squared his shoulders, hand over his chest and a warm smile. "Jay," he said. No last name. His last name carried memories he didn't like to dredge up.

"My name    it's Jay." And he wasn't the type to give up easily, least of all on something as important as another person. She looked so small, huddled against the wall. He knew fear when he saw it, knew pain and distress and the haunting of ghosts, and he knew loneliness only made it worse. 

His mind was made up. "If you won't come with me, then I will stay with you." It wouldn't get her out of the elements, but he had an idea for that, too. He shrugged out of his jacket, and in one smooth movement, draped it pointedly over her shoulders. It was thicker than hers, bigger. Content with that, he folded his newly-bared arms and leaned back against the brick wall beside her.

Her eyes were absolutely, positively wary and guarded. She used to be an open and affectionate being, but she learned the hard way that got people hurt in this life. And she had learned just as fast that those who were so eager to offer help, weren’t to be trusted. She’d been taken advantage of… a lot.

"Well, you’re observant," she replied softly, almost recoiling at his hand altogether. As it was, her back pressed against the brick wall behind her as much as she could manage it, the cold brick pressing into her skin uncomfortably.

"I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you. You might be a serial killer who makes belts out of human skin. I’d like to not be a belt, thank you very much." Mary ducked her head and hoped he would leave. Most people did when she called them out on their bullshit. It was just one way of approaching for a good time they didn’t have to pay for.

Whether she wanted it or not.

"Everyone knows you don’t go anywhere with strangers."

#booiisms #|| he doesn't know how stubborn he is #but he is #v; litost