#but that's like a distant pipe dream lmao

[phoenixcatch7]

Welcome to the environmental lore photo collection that took me three weeks to do! We shall see if we can fit all the photos in!

Okay! For purposes of this compilation I'll not be talking about either seasonal areas or the war! Because those are whole separate topics, and well...

We know enough. Also, I had to lighten several photos, so they might look slightly off to experienced players. It's so you can see!

So, the very first area -

Forgive the quality, this is their second compression lmao. As you can see, we start off with pretty standard Sky Kingdom architecture - blue stone with pale blue paint, topped with gold almost-spikes. There's a landing area from valley (middle left) but it's almost entirely flooded with cloud so good luck landing on it now lol. An overhead walkway (bottom left) that only appears elsewhere in the valley citadel and skate race. Unsurprising, given the proximity.

The interesting things are the campfire, the lanterns, and the broken bridge (top left, right, and bottom right respectively).

The huge campfire and the rows of lanterns speak of low light levels and temperatures. The nature of the wasteland is pollution and corruption, so it's easy to think the thick, dark cloud layer blocking out the sun is a result of that, and thus came about later in the timeline. But it seems to be early enough that ancestors made their own countermeasures to the darkness.

The broken bridge, of course, led down. It's sizable. I wonder what it looked like, before the hurricane? Perhaps they used shuttle boats like the village of dreams? Unlikely - there's no boat debris anywhere on either side, but it's an interesting thought. Either way, it tells us the hurricane wasn't always there...

^ Enter the wasteland proper, and you're met with this. Everything is half buried in sand, the water is toxic, and there's not a candle to be seen (except of course on cake days, as you will see later XD) - this will remain true for the whole realm. Under the hooked arch in the bottom pic is the sapling (clinging on for dear life, surely) and the dock leading to Enchantment.

What purpose the listing building in the centre pic does, I don't know, but if you squint under the left arch in the bottom picture, you'll see there's another one (with nothing inside). Given its placement, it could be assumed one had to pass through it to reach the main entrance. It's highly unlikely they were homes.

Similarly, all those giant broken arches could have enclosed a vast area the size of a small town (figuratively, if we consider the dream village and the aviary) - they're all pointing at each other (as best they can). Valley has proven the smaller version of these are to be walked on, so perhaps guards or manta riders could patrol on them? You do crashland enter under the only standing arch, after all.

The paths, centre right, also seem to be doing badly. Their solidity and thickness means they're not simple flagstones or paving like other areas in sky - they're heavy duty, lined with I believe to be more of that golden metal that bent instead of crumbled. They were built over unsteady ground. Whether that be the sand and toxic water they sit in now or just normal water remains to be seen.

If you look left, you'll see a distant... Factory of some kind. Middle left picture. Pipes leading in or out of it. Whatever it is, production, water purification, waste disposal, it probably doesn't work anymore. If you've played Journey (sky's predecessor), it's strongly reminiscent of an area where you build a temporary bridge connecting the broken arches so you can cross into the enormous building ahead. It's a fantastic sense of scale, to realise that this ancient civilisation ringed a significant portion of way around the base of this gargantuan mountain.

Half buried statues guard the crumbling entrance - smaller than the gigantic ones in the valley stadium, but pretty much the same otherwise lol. Given the amount of buried rubble around them and the chasm in the stone above, did something burst in... Or out? The mystery isn't solved on the inside, but at least the corridor isn't completely blocked. Sky kid (me!) for scale! It's interesting, how apart from the obviously ceremonial dramatic valley statues, these are the first things we see of anything resembling combat or even weapons. A culture which has a concept of militaristic might. They're guarding something important. (Vault, duh.)

No! Unlike what you'd think, the important thing becomes clear immediately. The collosal, toppled bell (I always wondered if they were hollow), the odd ceremonial structure it landed by (top left), those funny diamond bells (top right, top left if you squint), the studded cylinders (bottom left). The hastily stacked rubble blocking the krill's sight (bottom middle), the ripped open roof (bottom right).

It's identical to the forest elder shrine. This is a temple. Could this have been the original location of the wasteland elder shrine? The only remaining proof of a secret eighth elder, now subsumed?... A cool shaped building the architects took and ran with? We don't know. Whatever it was, it was clearly of great import. Most likely ceremonial, or for worship, or, heck, the equivalent of a podium specifically for big grand speeches. When the roof was there, it was an enormous, grand room, guarded by stern stone giants twice over and blocked by the same great doors that hide the forest glade. The ones that light up and spin and only open after meditating and meeting the elder...

There's no sign of those doors now, which is impressive. Probably where they got the stone for the krill blockade and the hiding places along the little bridge. Good thing they're gone, then, because those magic hinges seem to have run out of juice and gone dark. My theory is they were there to keep people out - a barrier between the last traces of peace and the battle torn graveyard we're about to walk into. (Another potential point in the 'prev wasteland elder location' - an ancestor would have to pass through him to enter, and the enemy on the way out.)

There's pipes now, too - I can only believe they were a later addition, given how haphazardly they coat the walls, and the industrial pollution aesthetic much more suited to the grimy, bleak wastes of today than the gilded ceremonial hall this once was.

Just off the left after the main temple area, there's a large room, ceiling also torn off. I can only describe them as pedestals, but what stood on them I don't know. My first thought when I found this place as a moth was a wardrobe/constellation/friend constellation thing, but it's??? Eh. If it were statues, they're long gone with no sign, and they're not big enough for anything mobile. This room served a function, that much is clear, but if decorative or practical I doubt we'll ever know.

^ The graveyard. This is its actual name, I believe. Fitting. The wasteland title promised us Vault, that's all this place is now good for, so that must be the vault we see looming in the background, tower reaching into the low clouds. (If you've played Journey, you're already familiar with the tower idea, so it's easy to slot the two together.)

Here you'll find, uh, krill. There's four here, the highest concentration of krill in all sky lmao. You'll find giant skeletons. You'll find sand. Toxic water. And that's kind of it.

Interesting things abound, however! There's a fleet of sunken, broken boats (middle left), a campfire now overgrown with dark plants (not shown) and a giant crab roasting campfire with a poor, beloathed by the community, crab loving spirit (middle). We can only assume he's the one who built the campfire! Thanks dude! Please have an easier relived memory! (should we call it a seance??) Now, given the guy is an elderly dude who carries a guitar and spends his time chasing crabs all across the dang map, he's probably not a warrior. Heck, with the amount of crabs, he probably arrived after the pipes. After the war, even? On the middle right pic is the weirdly undecorated entrance to the sunken ship.

Of course I looked at the skeletons and compared them! Each wasteland one had tiny scratches or notches in the spine spikes, and yes they aren't there on the other, but otherwise the size and shapes are identical! These skeletons are whales, as proven by the skeleton in forest haunted by the whale whisperer! The poor forest whale died of head injury colliding with the building, so there's every chance these guys were also used in warfare for similar reasons - maybe even specifically bred to fight the krill - but it could also have been a tragedy of mass extinction during what turned the graveyard into what it is today. :( That you can find a Rythm spirit in a skull tells us the troupe came about a LONG time after the deaths.

^ To the shipwreck! The first pic I caught during the shard event (though they landed all the way in prairie!) lol. It looks so ominous... Outside of the seasonal enchantment beauty, this is the biggest vessel in the game, and much more utilitarian. Unlike SS Enchantment, this thing was a tanker, not a home for those on board.

Featuring - the only decorated pipes in the kingdom (middle left)! Life boat deployment cranes (bottom left)! A beached lifeboat, bottom right :(. A boat still attached (feat me). More of those weird diamond bells for cargo, which proves they were a valued commodity and at least semi mass produced and shipped around the kingdom! More than the craftsman in prairie, or the tree fellers in forest, they prove a thriving, stable kingdom steadily advancing in technology and society! And the boat being pointed to the temple - incoming goods? Potentially, for Vault?

The krill decided it didn't want to be in the top pic, but I swear he's there XD... Most likely what sank the ship, tbh. It's not caught on some rock, or ledge, or ditch. In fact, the bottom is more intact than the top!... I think the krill escaped the warzone and caught the arriving ship, possibly spotting an unlucky crewmate through those big arched windows. The memory of the saluting captain walks the wreckage of his ship, sending away a loyal crew member on the second last life boat, back out to sea. Whether it's the boat dashed on the rocks or if they escaped the krill I don't know, but we know the captain didn't. Crab whisperer passes through later, so we know the light seekers are also post event.

We've reached the entrance to the vault! It's.. Smaller than it looks from a distance. Vault must be a shorter building hidden behind it, or far enough away it vanishes into the smog. Under a shard event sky, the black waters look like blood.

The first thing you see of the battlefield is the large, imposing building, now listing to one side and rimmed with stakes (cheval de freise, if you want to be fancy. Large caltrops... When your mounts and enemies can fly). There's only one spirit here, lookout (middle left). Whether it was supposed to be a temporary building (UNLIKELY) or whether they didn't build it properly and the sandy ground subsided over the aeons that have passed between then and now is up to interpretation, but at least this time the lack of roof seems intentional. I'm more annoyed it doesn't line up with the temple, I had to stand literally on the right wall to get the bottom picture and it's still slightly left!

Lighting the crystal triggers three krill to emerge from the ground and start hunting. (One time I visited some unknowing friends who triggered the gate... A krill emerged less than a metre from me with no warning... Terrifying XD.) Previously they used to spawn basically on top of the players and you had to run for your LIFE, but now they take a leisurely stroll in your direction, so you've got plenty of time to wander your way to safety. Maybe stop and get an ice cream. Boring :/. In terms of lore very fascinating and scary, given the last stand and the aurora concert both seemed focused on defending the crystal. This whole time... It was rigged. By which side, I don't know.

The shrine! ^

From the outside, a large, ominous building covered in pipes and statue towers. On the inside, an octagonal chamber many stories high. Like the rest of wasteland, what little decor there is is chockers with that hollow star shape that symbolises light, the king, all that good stuff. There's six ginormous double doors ringing the chamber, all tightly shut. My first thought was six realms, one war council. Nothing to prove or disprove that lol. It would have been a great place for diplomacy, though, without the shrine statue. Sand everywhere, probably through the gaps in the ceiling lol. Beautiful door.

Wasteland elder himself!!! His weapons are the ones arranged on his shrine - whether that means he can manifest in the world and grab them or if they're stone recreations of the ones he carries at all times, I don't know. He's never been seen in any memory or cutscene of war, so maybe he can't manifest... We know the isle elder can, in the song runaway of aurora. His space is the very same place as the Crystal outside his chamber, facing out, and he points his spear towards where the kings star would be, the crowning jewel of his tower. We can safely assume whatever his role, he was defending Vault and Eden behind it. And he succeeded.

There's so much to talk about with the vault door. Top left, the closed wasteland/vault door. Bottom left and right, the closed forest door. Centre and top right, the open vault door. You'll notice more diamond shapes and boat imagery. But in wasteland, the jewels that presumably power the great door are missing, black. The double switches, inactive. Even when activated, no line traces up and no light appears - only the outlines of the stars and speckled lights hidden on the door itself. If that's not divine intervention from the elder, I don't know what is lol.

Pass through into vault, and see its beauty untouched. But turn around, and see the mounds of golden sand blown in from Wasteland, settling in the still air. Vault acknowledges its protector.

Some final thoughts:

^ For some reason, probably that it's the only place it's not very visible, the shipwreck is the only place where the kings star is absolutely massive and has a ring. Every other place, it's normal! It's probably an old design tgc forgot to update with the rest lmao.

^ An entirely accidental realisation due to my research. Man I love environmental storytelling. Nearly every detail of the mask matches the skull! The IMAGERY.

^ My first attempt to get a good shot of wasteland instead caught a first person witness to an expert krill dodger! I didn't get to talk to them, but know you were caught being very cool in high definition!!

^ I didn't get to talk about this theory before, but every entrance and exit to the graveyard and next door shipwreck EXCEPT their connecting corridor are all huge drops in altitude. Both are the only places you find boats. Both are sodden with black water. The ground is uneven. There's whale skeletons. My theory is that these areas were once entirely submerged! Water areas! Shipping and naval battles and cargo! Abyss proves krill can survive perfectly under water - and all emerging krill do so from water!! It'd explain the sand and the debris and the beached boats and all!

Elder shrines do like their slitted roofs. This is prairie. 'S why I wasn't theorising about the sand in wasteland lol. Gotta get the dramatic shafts of light from somewhere!

The open door and two beautifully poised strangers - well done on completing wasteland! I hope you enjoy vault!!

Pipe theory: these things pop up at the entrance to wasteland and follow you all the way through to the shrine, disappear in vault, and then reappear. They go all the way to the point of no return in eden!!! They're either taking something up, or, considering the amount of pipes that open into black water areas, the general gravity situation of vertical pipes... It's likely they were siphoning something away. Sewer pipes, but evil. Maybe trying to wash away whatever corruption happened to the Eye? It didn't work... Poisoned the waters instead. Maybe they carried water up to the Eye like a kingdom sized cooling system and that drained the waters??

And the photo that started this whole thing, the day I climbed the wasteland temple...

that's not smog. That is a wall. That is the biggest wall I have EVER seen.

Do you see the line under the clouds? The sky box? The 'horizon'?

YOU'RE ALREADY LOOKING AT VAULT.

TGC YOU MOTHERS OF DUCKS.

#LONG POST #VERY LONG POST #Realising the true size of vault from the outside I think messed up my brain #It's like an ant seeing a circuit board #Like yeah. Vault is huge. It's got to be. It's like a pocket dimension of indigo magic. Vault barely follows the laws of physics. #It's a world unto itself. #But to realise all of vault fits in one building of brick and stone.... It's insane. It's a mind boggling feat of engineering and magic #It's just insane. #Thank you for making it this far LMAO I hope the pretty pictures kept you entertained #extremely long post #Do you love the colour of wasteland? #But now I feel settled lmao that's been bugging me for months #sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky oc #sky photography #thatgamecompany #thatskygame #that sky game #skykid #that game sky #Tgc #s: cotl #Scotl #sky cotl screenshots #sky cotl photography #sky kid #skyblr #sky cotl lore #environmental storytelling

[cqsuanla]

My little fucked up OCs which started as a dark nat au LMAO here’s another. Expect me to disappear again 😘

Tw: violence, hints of stockholm syndrome, cigs

“Hi.”

You rouse, blinking up at the static your punisher calls constellations.

She leans over you like an eclipse and waves a tightly bound bundle of grapes over you. “Hungry?”

You clear your throat with a nod. “Y-Yeah. Thirsty too.”

A happy hum. She conjures up a vase of water from somewhere. “Open up, honey.”

You do so, but not without a quick glance downward to the sword wedged between your rib cage. Yep. Still there.

She feeds you with an almost adorable amount of concentration. Adorable were it not for the fact that she had impaled you on some piece of shit antique and left you to rot for a day.

“Can I-” She shoves a grape between your teeth and you dutifully chew and swallow before beginning again: “Can I go home now?”

Home being anywhere but here. The big ugly house she lives in and, you suppose, also you now. Or—a pipe dream, really—home in the distant, clouded lands of your maker. Tabletops full of power tools, blue-papered designs you can’t even fathom. The smell of life and movement, and a view of spilled light, pinpricks of stars. Oh, stars.

You glare up at the static.

She winces at that, cricking her head back in an unnatural way. “Still not right? Damn. What about now?”

The sky suddenly sharpens up as if she had clicked the Smart Sharpen button in Photoshop. “Forget it. Take the fucking sword out.”

Now, she pouts.

“Sorry,” you say automatically, clenching your eyes shut. You feel like you’re made of wax. Maybe you are. Maybe she did that while you were asleep.

A cold hand cards through your hair, nails scraping pleasantly at your scalp. “Forgiven,” she sings mildly—it is quite literally music to your ears. She thinks she’s funny for things like that. “I’ll take you home in a couple more hours. How about that?”

“Hasn’t he seen enough?” And you will freely admit you’re beginning to sound desperate. You can’t even feel the sword. You’re really just going a little stir crazy. “Isn’t this punishment enough?”

She slants you a look. The whole point of this shit is that it’s never goddamn enough. She’s said this to you countless times and you never seem to get it.

“Could I have a smoke, at least?” you finally grumble out.

A long, thin line of tobacco wrapped in delicate pink paper. Blueish smoke spirals away from the tip.

“Come on,” you groan, “enough of this old timey shit.”

And you’re registering the stinging pain of it before realizing she’s slapped you across the face. Then, the agony. The searing red-white-blacking out pain of a sword jammed into your chest. You scream, sweat beading out your pores, limbs locking up in a shock.

It dies as quickly as it came and you feel a small part of you dislodge and follow that pain to the eternal nothing. You wish the whole of you could go. You wish nothing of yours would ever touch those final gates, peering up at the blank eyes above. The glassy eyes above. Something hot splashes across your cheek.

“It’s all I know,” she whispers angrily. Embarrassed. The smoke has been bent, paper jutting out smoothly and impossibly around the corner to patch it up. “It must be enough for you.”

You sigh through ragged lungs. “Okay. Just. Fuck, imagine it shorter and, like, this- this thick.” You hold apart your thumb and forefinger. “The paper is white except the filter, which is orange. No holder-thing, please.”

The cigarette transforms accordingly as you instruct it. The little piece of metal she typically uses to grip her smokes dissipates in a mist. She hands you the lit cigarette and straightens up, conjuring up her own to match.

There’s the sensation of muted horror echoing in some part of your mind as you watch her lean on the hilt of your sword. It slices further into the left side of your chest and more blood lurches out. You puff at your smoke, glaring daggers at your own predicament.

“Yum,” she says after a while. Eagerly, she produces another cigarette. “Want another?”

You give her a shaky thumbs up, spitting the butt out from the corner of your mouth.

She puts her cigarette out between your collar bones where a small, red pool has formed. You hear the sizzle, though you don’t feel it. She relights and sticks it in your mouth.

“All right, then,” she says, kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.” And she leaves, pixels above you blurring at the edges as her mind wanders away.

#mw #exciting stuff but I’m getting tested today so I can start HRT🥺🥺

[dragongirlafro]

so pokémon day is less than a month away! i originally wasn't gonna do any predictions but i got an idea for a potential game concept that's taken over my brain. before that tho lemme just cover all my bases

best case scenario: no game release this year!!! let these devs fucking rest!!!!! (it's not gonna happen 😞)

most likely scenario imho: beat for beat rerun of late 2021/early 22. faithful gen 5 remake by ILCA even tho no one on the planet wants that, while game freak does another experimental open world title set in the same region. because as much as fans like to think TPC listens to them, they'll listen to the tune of 15 million BDSP copies sold first LMAO

what pokemon fans want to happen: B&W remakes developed in-house by game freak and also a Legends style Unova prequel AND ALSO johto games. most unlikely outcome (i'm not discounting the possibility of a johto remake/rerelease but the more I think about it the harder it gets for me to see them doing one anytime soon)

idea that i just got last night that i kind of want now: Legends Unova dual release. one game set in the distant past, the other in the distant future. fits perfectly with both Black and White's original motifs and continuing ScarVio's main themes. the games would have completely different pokédexes, characters, locations and even perhaps different plotlines that branch out more than any other game since like, gen 3. trading between versions would still work yadda yadda yadda you get the picture i'm not the dev here. only downside to this would be, seeing as it would be the biggest difference in pokémon versions to date, there'd be more of an argument for having to buy both versions to experience the other sides of the story (which, in all fairness, is really just more incentive for game freak to pull a move like this lol)

ok i spent more time on this than i was expecting ajdjjssjs uhhh long story short i think the ILCA remake is disappointingly inevitable but i would be hyped if my personal pipe dream came to pass (albeit a bit more scared for my wallet than usual😭)

#vi posts #sorry johto fans for pushing that game idea under the rug a lil sajdjsjsj.... i know it's the 25th anniversary so I GUESS there's a chance #truthfully johto is one of my least favorite regions and i really don't see how they could make any changes to it that would satisfy me #aside from like. expand the pokédex by 500% to include hoenn to paldea mons lmfaooo

[bodycountgame]

Are there any special plans for after the reveal of who gets murdered when you release the next chapter for that character? Like answering asks/prompts just about that character or something?

#but yes lmao #i'll give them a decent send off dw #and they'll continue to be included in other RO asks and stuff i think #my dreeeeeeeam is to have enough time/resource to be able to go back in the second draft of the game and make the deaths variable #so i can see all the routes through to the end #but that's like a distant pipe dream lmao #The Vote #me: it's a secret #also me: spills all my thoughts in the tags instead hahaha

[lilxberry]

Give Us A Song - Thorin’s Company

Warnings: None, just some platonic fluff with the whole gang

Words: 1,038

Pairings: None. Thorin’s Company x Reader (platonic)

(A/N: Kinda a song fic, if you count a lil’ bop from Frozen 2 lmao.)

(Song: All Is Found by Evan Rachel Wood from Frozen 2.)

_______________

As the company settled down in their little campsite for the night, Bofur heaved out a sigh.

“Are you alright, Master Bofur?” You spoke in a gently voice, concerned for the dwarf.

He turned to face you, sitting up that tad bit straighter. “Aye lass, I’m fine. Just a bit too quiet for my liking.”

“Why don’t you sing to us tonight? We know your singing isn’t THAT terrible.” You teased as you gave him your suggestion.

“I think the others have had quite enough of my singing, my lady.” He quipped as a playful smile resided on his face.

“Why don’t you sing to us lass?” Balin asked from his place across the fire.

You turned your attention towards the kind old dwarf and shook your head with a smile. “No, no, I’m quite certain the companies’ ears while be bled dry by the time I would finish any song I would sing.”

“Oh, c’mon Y/N, give us a song.” Fíli and Kíli spoke at once, almost in a whining manner, making you chuckle.

You closed your eyes and took a quick, deep breath before sighing and giving in to your companions’ request. “Fine. What would you all have me sing?”

“Maybe you should sing something that holds a deep meaning to you, my dear.” Gandalf spoke, holding his pipe that emitted smoke from both ends.

You smiled softly, knowing what song would be sung by you. “Okay. Although, I’m not certain that you may like it.” You gave faux warning as you flashed them a playful smile before it softened. “It will be a song from my people, from the enchanted forest that I came from.”

“We’re sure it will be great regardless of its’ origin.” “Bilbo smiled from his place beside you.

With that, you nodded and turned to look into the fire, beginning the sweet song your mother once sang for you as a child.

‘Where the north wind meets the sea,

There's a river full of memory.

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound,

For in this river all is found.’

They gaped at you in awe as your silken smooth voice carried throughout their small campsite, not one of them daring to make a single sound for they fear they would disturb the beauty they hear.

Images of your mother cradling your child sized body to hers in your body as she sang and combed her fingers through your hair. You smiled at the memory as the song continued its course past your lips.

‘In her waters, deep and true,

Lie the answers and a path for you.

Dive down deep into her sound,

But not too far or you'll be drowned.’

The usual brooding Durin heir had even set aside his stoic expression listening to the sweet sound of your voice. His shoulders slumped as he began to allow himself to relax. Balin had smiled as he noticed the change within Thorins usual tense stature.

Everyone was entranced by your song, not daring to look away as they somehow thought that will make them miss your melodic tune.

The tune so sweet, it neared the others to sleep, your voice lulling them by the second, although they refuse to give in.

‘Yes, she will sing to those who'll hear,

And in her song, all magic flows.

But can you brave what you most fear?

Can you face what the river knows?’

You though about the powers you possess, not differing much to Gandalf’s. Yours being more spiritual rather than the practical magic he produces alongside his knowledge, wit and charm. You revelled as you felt the similar sensation send a shiver down your spine.

‘Where the north wind meets the sea,

There's a mother full of memory.

Come, my darling, homeward bound,

When all is lost, then all is found.’

You hadn’t even realised that you closed your eyes during the final verse for as you noticed an orange glow shine that little bit dimmer. You opened your eyes slowly to be met with the company staring at you. You blushed from the number of eyes set upon your form.

“Wow…” Ori breathed out, followed by nods of agreement from Nori and Dori.

“That was amazing lass.”

“Beautiful.”

The compliments had continued to flow, forcing you to look down bashfully, a red as deep as the centre of the burning embers sat before you. “You’re all too kind.”

“I believe that it will be many years before that song you’ve sung for us tonight will leave my mind.” Thorin spoke, his usually icy, distant demeanour nowhere in sight, only a genuine smile upon his face.

You smiled and gave a curt nod to the dwarf.

“I think I’m going to sleep. Goodnight all.” Bilbo turned to head to his bedroll but spared a final glace over to you. “I hope we hear more songs from you along the way.”

Gandalf stood from his position against the base of the large tree. “I think we should follow Mister Baggings’ example and head to sleep.”

The others grunted and nodded in agreement, though their grunts had somehow sounded more cheerful. The thought alone made you giggle quietly to yourself. “I’ll take first watch.” You volunteered yourself happily, in a chipper mood from how calm the night has been.

“I’ll take the next watch after the lass.” Dwalin spoke and nodded towards you, making his own way over towards his bedroll.

As the others said their goodnights and well wishing of sweet dreams, you were left to seat yourself on the nearby rock, gaining some height for looking out for threats. You smiled as your mind wandered back to thoughts of your mother, your home.

Although it saddens you to know there is no returning for you, you still continue to smile as you’ve gained a new one after the tragic loss of your previous.

You brought your knees up to your chest, hugging your legs tightly as you gaze over at the sleeping dwarves, hobbit and wizard, smiling fondly.

“When all is lost, then all is found…huh…” You muttered to yourself, thinking solely of your newfound family. You were going to help them get back to their rightful home, even if it killed you.

_______________

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I KNOW the whole mother situation is practically the same from the second Frozen film but I prefer the second over the first immensely for some reason

And this song just hits right, yanno

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

I found this to be quite cute plus fun to write

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

#the hobbit #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #song fic #the hobbit x reader #thorin's company #thorin's company x reader #thorin #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #balin #dwalin #ori #nori #dori #oin #gloin #bifur #bofur #bombur #bilbo #bilbo baggins #gandalf #gandalf the grey #x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader

[cryinginthebackseat]

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

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Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

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Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with. 

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Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.  

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

                                                         fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel​ @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass​ @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

#playchoices #open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #open heart mc #oh mc #pixelberry #choices stories you play

[sordidandsublime]

I’m kinda mad that Miklos didn’t grow up with his uncle(s???) and dad, bc that would have been a very unconventional, weird as all get out but Pure lil’ family unit. 

If Vadim had gone to see Katya again when Miklos was a toddler he might have gotten the sense that she really wasn’t into the whole child rearing thing and would have offered to take the boy. Tbh at that age when kids are the most demanding, inquisitive and needy she would have shoved Miklos at him with more than a little relief. Adoption papers and bureaucracy would have been hell, and he would have showed up back at his and Milan’s flat three weeks after his supposed return date.

Miklos wouldn’t have cried on the long train ride back to Moscow, but he wouldn’t have said a word to his father or anyone else trying to be all coochie coochie at the cute kid. Vadim wouldn’t have pushed him to talk or tried to be friendly with him, just offered him food and a blanket or a pen and notebook at the right moments. Not unlike bringing a dog home tbh.

“I was beginning to think you might have eloped without telling me, it’s fine, I never wanted to be present at your wedding anyway–– WHAT IS THAT?”

Milan, more of a mischievous older sibling than an uncle, or if he was avuncular at all, Affectionate Vodka Uncle

“I don’t know anything about children!! What do you know about children?” “I raised you didn’t I?” “That’s not any kind of positive endorsement of your child raising capabilities.”

Vadim has a lot of thorny, Dark, unsorted feelings about fatherhood, family, obligation, intimacy, the irresponsibility of bringing children into the world etc but for the most part he doesn’t let those show in any obvious way while dealing with his kids (lol that includes Milan). He figures he can take the same approach towards Miklos that he did towards Milan which I think would work pretty well with Miklos’ personality. Hands off, affectionate, non judgmental, encourages independent thought and self responsibility while being clear about what’s expected of everyone at home. Vadim doesn’t scold over trivial things and most of the time he doesn't have to bc he has this quality about him that shames people into doing their best around him so he isn’t disappointed in them. Vadim is also low-key v intellectually demanding, but playful. Neither Vadim nor Milan would push Miklos to be more outgoing or talkative (lmao an introvert’s pipe dream), but he’s fairly talkative with them once he gets used to his new home. Miklos and Milan argue/talk a lot. Mostly it’s Milan cheerfully taking the piss and inventing wilder and wilder stories while Miklos tells him he’s an idiot.

“Don’t talk to your uncle like that” “I wouldn’t have to if he acted like one and spoke like a grown up.”

Miklos still would have gotten in judo, but he wouldn’t have abruptly quit without explanation. Vadim v. mildly disapproves of him getting into MMA, systema etc but has said nothing definitive on the subject. Miklos ignores him where that is concerned (not like his opinion would have mattered much, he was in prison lol). Milan is Obnoxiously Supportive (also a good way for Miklos to vent his teenage Angst and abandonment issues, in his opinion).

Vadim still would have gone to prison when Miklos is about...9 or 10. Milan takes over raising him; they quarrel often at first out of the stress of having their world flipped on its side (again, in Miklos’ case), plus Milan was never the Authority Figure at home, just the shit eating instigator of trouble. 

Milan takes Miklos with him to visit Vadim while he’s incarcerated. They only visit together twice before Vadim tells Milan he doesn’t want Miklos coming to see him anymore, and Milan shouldn’t be visiting either (it’s probably a shitty 7 or 8 hour train trip with a couple of switches to idfk, a work camp in the Urals or fucking Siberia just to see him for forty minutes). This instigates one of their biggest and bitterest fights and Milan mulishly visits him a few more times before Vadim kills three inmates and goes into the high security block.

Miklos has to go live with Avenir when Milan goes into the military and into the GRU. Milan is never sure if Miklos held that against him or was indifferent. Avenir isn’t a bad guy, really, just distant with the younger boys and strict and old fashioned. He’s kind to his nephew in a stiff sort of way and worries about him and his brothers a lot, although he never gives voice to these worries. They fight a lot bc of differing views on discipline and what should and shouldn’t be allowed. Miklos treats Avenir’s home like a boarding house and is only in and out to sleep and eat. At his worst he’s sneeringly ‘respectful’ towards Avenir and some things of value around Avenir’s flat disappear. Somehow they both survive Miklos’ last years in high school and during their occasional truces they have conversations about music, writers and go to the ballet.

Gangster Vad is released in time to see Miklos go into uni. Family reunion and Huge Fight n.2 over Vadim’s horrible life choices and how that would affect the rest of his family and his son etc, why didn’t he come to see them immediately after his release. Vadim continues to work for the Bratva while it’s decided that Miklos continues to live with Avenir while at uni. Vadim, unwilling to taint his family with his new life, tries to avoid seeing them as much as possible. Presumably Miklos is low key resentful about all these departures and being shuffled around so often.

Huge fight n.3 is probably several years down the line (after huge fight n.2.5 when Miklos announces his plans to go into the special forces) re: Miklos’ questionable forays into intelligence work and assassination and the family coming together more or less to start working with Vadim. Probably. With the exception of Avenir who is a moralistic stick in the mud and Always Worried (tm).

#longass AU rambles #NG #Ramazanovs

[cvenir]

imma try this again bc i said y’know fck it (heh) bc i need to introduce these characters before making proper bios ok here we go

so actually since i did do zella, felix, and gwenna’s bios, i’ll actually just leave them out of the intro bc like.... i have 8 more lmao so like here you can find their bios in the first three circles n also imma link all the pinterests aGAIN bc they probably do more than i can

these are gonna be crude n real cut n dry but let’s face it who has time to read everything abt all 11 ok this is for US

CHRISTOPHER ‘KIT’ MILLER looks an awful lot like DONALD GLOVER. HE is THIRTY-TWO and while they’re MAGNETIC, they have a tendency to get pretty MERCENARY. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to DEGAS PARK by KEVIN ABSTRACT.

ok so kit is my son !! he is kinda a shitty person but it’s a result of his upbringing entirely like he was raised in a household of self-obsession and pre-occupation with the material things. aka he’s like filthy rich bc his parents are well-known in the entertainment business

his father is a rlly big time actor like he is thaT GUY ( my star wars lovin ass likes to pretend he’s billy dee williams bc lando unite but anyway unrelated ) and his mother is a super awesome film director so he grew up with that hanging over his shoulders. his dad was always really hard on him and pushed him to become an actor too but he isn’t abt that life (only to spite his dad lbr)

also his parents were lke actively trying not to have kids so his dad always kinda held that against kit and resented him from day one meanwhile his mother embraced it so :/

his mom is everything he ever dreamed of in a mother, and even tho she was always a bit too busy for him, she never let it affect their relationship and they’re still very close

so yeah kit is that fancy ass man like he bathes in the opulence. he doesn’t do much but gamble and parade his wealth around –– except he has invested in many businesses so like he can be p serious n focused on that sometimes bc like

$$$$

also he loves his ladies. like a lot. pls someone allow him to be the suGAR DADDY WE ALL DESERVE!!! but fr no that’s his biggest downfall like in his song inspo he can get very caught up in his emotions and rlly lose his head bc like he is calm cool and calculating and distant for the most part but once he gets attached it’s like he craves the connection and he can get very lost

anyway also bring me a plot where they may have grown up together and he’s very defensive over them like he doesn’t always get close to people but this person means the world to him and maybe he’s been lowkey in love his whole life but like whatever who talks abt feelings n ruins something so special he could never

yeah so idk what more to say at this point so yeah hmu w questions bc i could probably go off again

ROSALIND LEPAGE looks an awful lot like ADELAIDE KANE. SHE is TWENTY-FOUR and while they’re RESILIENT, they have a tendency to get pretty QUIXOTIC You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to MELTING by KALI UCHIS. 

okay now this is my baby. she is a sweet lil buttercup and only wants the best in life but it never comes to her ugh i’m wounded.

so she was born and raised in kola, v much small-town girl vibes. she absolutely loves it here but since growing up the town was really been stained by disappointment :/ when she was seventeen both of her parents like went missing just like completely disappeared leaving her and her six-year-old sister just completely alone which really fucked up her plans bc she was already accepted to a top-tier music school in new york for college for her passion for violin but she had to turn it down bc her sister was now her responsibility 

so she dropped out of highschool and got her ged and immediately entered the work force, leaving her dreams in the dust. she still plays every now and then, especially whenever there’s an open mic night at the coffee shop where she works like girl plugs in her amp n everything i love her

anyway like she doesn’t resent anyone or blame her sister bc she’s just so compassionate and selfless like she didn’t hesitate to change her life to support her sis but it does still kill her to know that her life just kinda never took off and probs never will. but now she just channels all that sadness into fighting to make sure her sister doesn’t end up stuck like she did

so yeah she’s just a huge sweetheart who loves doing things for others and she’s so so soft like someone hold my lil muffin :/ she can get way too caught up in dreams sometimes but y’know that’s life!!!

DIEGO CABRERA looks an awful lot like XAVIER SERRANO. HE is TWENTY-THREE and while they’re VIVACIOUS, they have a tendency to get pretty ERRATIC. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to DO IT AGAIN by NO ROME.

so one of the messiest children ever, he is here. ngl i got a lot of inspo from adam sackler from girls for my son diego so if u feel me, word. 

basically pls meet the world’s biggest narcissist –– he’s just like appalling sometimes but he really is trying his best. my boi grew up in kola and always planned on moving to LA to pursue his dream of being an actor and wow is he perfect for that bc my guy is the most dramatic and expressive hot mess you’ll ever find

his mind is always moving 100 miles a minute and he just says the craziest things ??? like he doesn’t know where to stop. diego is super passionate abt his own life and what he wants to do and what he believes; he won’t let you forget it either. he’s always here to share a piece of his mind whether you want it for not and he’s not afraid to turn people away bc his opinions are valid !!

like he’s sooo selfish and doesn’t even hide his own agenda, but ngl once you get him attached there’s no going back like he really gives everything his all and will devote anything it takes to procure happiness for those he loves

like he’s rrlly terrible but he truly has a good head on his shoulders and a good heart in his chest n it’ll beat for u rll hard if u earn it (thru his means ofc)

like when i say god complex i mean it

but c’mon pls give me the plot where like this person pined after him for such a fuckin long time and he legit only used them for sex n didn’t even hide it (like fr seconds after rolling over he said ‘so are you gonna leave now ? bye) bUT y’know they’ve been hooking up for so long to where he actually got invested and wanted them to come to his rehearsals and share his passion w them and they just like ..... stopped caring all of a sudden. so now he’s sad boi and mad boi bc after basically begging for him to give a fuck they up and ran when his heart got invOLVED LIKE FUCK ME fr this is the song and i need this connection pLS LOVE ME

anyway he’s a mess but i love him

PIPER KOVALSKY looks an awful lot like EMMY ROSSUM. SHE is TWENTY-SEVEN and while they’re NURTURING, they have a tendency to get pretty CALAMITOUS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to COFFEE & CIGARETTES by VIC MENSA.

awhh pipes.... my poor bb. she is also quite the mess!! 

but lbr it’s all her fucking fault lmao like her life literally never took off but she has no one to blame but herself. like she just really has a talent for ruining things whenever they get good and she doesn’t even try too my bb just does not think abt ramifications ever

piper was also born and raised in kola but she’s hopped around from area to area bc she can’t keep a lease going to save her life

or a job

she’s a big fan of cigareetes and alcohol and partying but whenever she indullges in anything they kinda have a perfect way of getting her in trouble. like she really wants to stop living like a vagrant but her cyncicsm really gets her down so she barely tries

she has a few siblings that she really wants to protect bc they’re headed down her path as well but she can’t even keep her life straight ugh :/

but ok so she’s truly the biggest softie on the inside like she cares soooo fucking much and she does a terrible job at pretending she doesn’t. but ya girl still tries!

ok so time for me to go off abt a wanted connect!!!! so her song is coffee & cigarettes and it’s a bop find it here pLS and i just really feel in my bones that this should be a connection ok. give me that high school lovers that were never lovers bc all piper could focus on was her own self-destruction n rlly living it up so she just completely shut this person out when it finally became real :/ so yeah it’s a fucking mess and she’s never truly moved on

anyway i should probably move onto the next muse lmao

MALCOLM WEST looks an awful lot like REECE KING. HE is TWENTY-TWO and while they’re JOCULAR, they have a tendency to get pretty CAVALIER. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to EPITAPH by HIPPO CAMPUS. –––––– may or may not be inspired by jake peralta

when i say he’s a goofster i mean he is a goofster and a gaffster ok

my tiny son who just wants to be a big bad detective and fight crime and just crack jokes along the way he is the meme king and he’ll let you know it

he grew up in atlanta where both of his parents were cops so he really just always dreamed of being just like them one day 

until his dad told him he’d never make it. that crushed his spirit entirely and ever since then he really kinda just figured out who his dad was ?? he caught him cheating on his mom and also just being a dirty cop and it just broke his heart bc that was his hero. and y’know malcolm gooddoer and fighter for justice so he went to his mom with this discovery and she just kind of admitted that she knew abt all of it but couldn’t do anything abt it so... he just kinda left and moved to kola to start over

he entered the police academy there as soon as he possibly could (18 i think maybe 19 if i’m dumb ) and just did not stop working his ass off and doing all kinds of paperwork and bust until he finally reached detective just a week ago

don’t get me wrong ya boi hates paperwork but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do !!

anyway he’s a clown but he loves life and and even tho he’s a child he can take some things seriously

aside from his true feeling heh who ?? i don’t know her n imma just tell a joke or do an impression or smth instead

alsO idk if anyone knows chew the comic series but he dEF IS GONNA HAVE THOSE POWERS FOR THE SUPERHERO/SUPERNATURAL THREAD stay tuned

CAMBRIA SONG looks an awful lot like JENNIE KIM. SHE is TWENTY-ONE and while they’re IDEALISTIC, they have a tendency to get pretty WHIMSICAL. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to MARCELINE by WILLOW.

ok first of all her pinterest is a whole ass aesthetic and u basically see everything she’s abt on there 10/10 would reccommend

now this is a smol bean that is also a bad bitch and we stan !! she’s your astrology loving, extra ass, witty lil witch and she loves adding in her two cents! she’s a sweet lil thing but her bite is bigger than her bark so watch out fr

mostly imma have her in the supernatural verse (witch heh heh), demi-god verse (u kno she’s hecate’s daughter), n maybe the horror verse bc i want my bb to be a medium like lorraine warren that’s my girl!! 

other than that catch her throwing out ur natal chart, charging n cleansing her cyrstals, n offering free tarot readings! really she has her mf shit together n loves helping ppl w spiritual awakenings ok

here is a pic of her two sides conversing ok big meme here

anyway i’m a big fan of her pinterest and i hope that gives everyone a good vibe for her bc tbh i’m tired lol

so imma do my other three muses in another post tomorrow bc !!! ya girl is feeling lazy now lmao sry this took so long geez

#round two here we go #i have a good amount of wanted connects in here so thank god for that #fckit:intro #i used the wrong tag i love myself