“J-Jonathan?”

“J-Jonathan?”

“J-Jonathan?”

-

-

Hey^^

It’s my spring break and I’ve finally been able to sit down and draw something .

W2H has resurfaced my memory and I’m so fkin excited for W2H2. (I know that was like.. 2 years ago)

The context for this is that Jonathan finally commits (ironically in a graveyard at midnight), and Sock is on his shift late at night. Feeling something is wrong he looks for Jon, but is unable to find him until he comes upon the graveyard.. He finally gets his job done, but at what cost? Did he really want Jonathan to do this?

He doesn’t know anymore. But it was too late.

————————

Okay love ya please enjoy

I love sockathan

Art is by me ——————> @sillyboycam

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Also that says “Ok but why’d I forget he’s bald” my writing is chicken scratch sometimes


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1 year ago
“Well Shooting Star? What’s Your Decision?”

“Well Shooting Star? What’s your decision?”

——————

Bill how the FUCK IS MABEL SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE IF SHES UNCONSCIOUS FALLING THROUGH THE AIR??

Also I have no idea why I made Ford so calm. Maybe because he thought Bill wouldn’t y’know, actually kill his grandniece/nibling

———————-

This is inspired by that one song that’s been floating around. Dove - Doll Ver. By antihoney. It’s so unnerving I love it

Mabel is so misunderstood. I love her

(So is literally every other Pine)

——————

all we can hope is he’s being a silly little guy. Anyways hi! I’ve been working on this for a while and have changed a lot of things thousands of times. Though I’m not suppper duper happy with the faces.. it still looks pretty good I think :)

Also if you don’t already know from a few of my posts, I’m an angst lover. Very moody I am yes sir

Pls enjoy

Love ya!

Art is by me ————————-> @sillyboycam

(This took me a week ~_~)

Also quietly… Happy 4/13!! I didn’t have time to draw or make anything today but I love Homestuck from the bottom of my heart


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2 months ago
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7 months ago

The first sensation is Keith’s voice: “Hey, Lance.”

The second sensation is much less pleasant, and comes milliseconds after the first: a bundled-up wad of something hitting him square in the face, the shock of it knocking him right over.

“Ow,” he says on reflex, even though it didn’t really hurt. Keith snorts.

“I didn’t throw it that hard.”

“You didn’t have to throw it at all,” Lance grumbles, reaching down to grab the projectile. When his hands make contact with worn canvas, he freezes. He glances down at the fabric with wide eyes.

His jacket.

Did Keith —

No. He couldn’t have.

Right?

“Hey,” Shiro says, nudging Lance gently. “You good, buddy? You’re looking kinda pale, all of a sudden.”

Lance swallows. He can’t tear his gaze away from Keith, who is looking at him in confused concern. So is everyone else. Shiro places a hand on Lance’s shoulder, asking him if he’s okay again, but it sounds faint and distorted, like everything’s far away.

“Excuse me,” Lance blurts, then runs out of the room. He doesn’t slow down until he gets to his bedroom, throwing himself on the bed and spreading out his jacket in front of him with careful hands. He runs his palms over the fabric, over and over again, until the texture of the pitted canvas ripples and changes into soft seal fur.

He bites his lip. He can’t believe — his pelt. He’s become careless. When they first came to space, Lance wouldn’t even take the pelt — disguised as his green army jacket — off his person. He even wore it to sleep. Partly for the comfort of home, but mostly because he was terrified. Terrified he’d lose it, somehow, in the vastness of space, and never be allowed to return home. Never see his mother, or his siblings, or feel the cold currents tickling his flippers as he chased around his nieces and nephews. Never listen to whale song again, never tease the dolphins, never poke and prod at octopuses. Never nap in the heat of the warm sun as he dries off.

Never be himself again.

But over time, he learned to trust his team. Not with his secret — not yet — but enough to admit bits and pieces, press fragments of his experiences into their hands. The exhilaration of swimming with sharks that swarmed near the island. The welcoming feeling of home in the ocean. The freedom of speeding through the waves. Small things, quiet things, but truths to him nonetheless. He eventually worked up the courage to even part with his pelt, briefly, in training, or eating, or simply bonding. Found the strength to set the jacket out of arm’s reach.

Perhaps the choice was foolish.

Because now his second greatest fear has come true — he may not have lost his pelt, true, but he is now bonded in eternity with another. When Keith handed Lance his coat, he unknowingly claimed Lance, as a prize and as a mate.

A feat of fate and magic that cannot be undone.

His grandmother whispered stories of this to him, when he was a child. As the sun set on the waves, lighting them aflame, she pressed stories of other selkies who’d been careless with their pelts into his skin — selkies who’d left their caps for sailors to steal, left their coats to dry where dangerous fishers lay waiting. Selkies who’d been tricked by corrupt kings or wooed by charming men, only for those men to steal their pelts and sell them to lands far away. Even now, the terror he’d felt as a child — of losing such a huge part of himself to a stranger — had never left. What would he do if some selfish human took his coat? Even if they returned it to him eventually — he’d always be bound to them. Should they move him away from the seas, he would have no choice in the matter. He would never truly be free again, should a human hand him his coat.

Sometimes, late at night, when he was already anxious and knew only how to make it worse, he’d imagine such a future. A future where he’d carelessly leave his coat unguarded for someone to pick up. To take it for themselves, or even just hand it back to him from where he left it. A future where he was a slave, then, to their whims. That future terrified him. The mere thought would make his heart pound and his blood race and his fingers clench together. Chained to another, he’d think. What a horrible fate.

But he was chained, now. He was Keith’s, in all forms. As a human and as a seal and as a selkie, he belonged to the other man. He belonged no longer to himself.

The notion didn’t scare him like he thought it would. Despite the bonds now tying him together, he did not feel trapped, like he expected.

“Lance?” A knock on the door startles him from his thoughts.

Speak of the devil.

“Are you okay, man? I didn’t mean to hurt you, with the jacket. Did you get a zipper to the eye, or something? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lance says. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause you don’t sound fine, really.”

“I am.”

Lance holds his breath. If he strains his ears, he can hear Keith’s gentle breathing from behind the door, the quiet rustling of his clothes as he shifts slightly.

“…Can I come in?”

Can Lance even refuse him? For all the stories his grandmother told him, he doesn’t actually know the logistics. Is it possible for him to refuse a request from Keith? Does he have any autonomy, outside his own mind?

“No,” he says, to test it. He squeezes his eyes shut, prepared for — for anything, really. Excruciating pain. A burning sensation, perhaps for his pelt to shrivel into scraps.

But no pain is forthcoming. The only thing that happens is Keith’s simple ‘okay’ from behind the door.

“Could you come out, then? We’re all kind of worried about you. You were really pale.”

Now that Lance knows he’s allowed to refuse Keith, any fear left evaporates.

He’s safe. It’s okay.

“Actually, I changed my mind. You can come in. It’s open.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate before opening the door, but he steps in the room cautiously.

“What happened?”

Lance bites his lip. What did happen? What can he say, to make this make sense?

The truth?

“It’s…strange,” Lance says eventually. “The story.”

Keith steps closer. “I don’t mind strange.”

Lance looks closely at Keith’s face. He looks — determined. Brow furrowed, arms crossed, mouth set in a deep frown. Once, Lance thought this expression was judgemental. He’s since learned that Keith simply suffers from a resting bitch face.

“You know how you’re not human?”

Keith snorts, his frown smoothing into a look of fond amusement. “I do remember that, yes. Kind of hard to forget.”

Lance grins sheepishly. “Right.” His grin vanishes as he tries to figure out how he can even word this properly. “It’s — I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Hey,” Keith says, closing the distance and sitting next to Lance on the bed. Unknowingly, he sits in between Lance in his jacket, one hand on the hood, making himself into a metaphor of the situation Lance has found himself in.

His pelt, no longer attached to him, but to Keith.

“It’s going to be fine,” Keith continues, putting a hand on Lance’s thigh, just above his knee. The touch burns. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll figure it out. Lance and Keith, neck and neck, remember? I’m right with you.”

Lance smiles tightly. Keith has gotten much better at comforting people.

“I’m not human.”

He’s afraid to look at Keith. Afraid to see the expression, there, the potential rejection. After all, they’ve known Keith isn’t human since their first couple months in space.

Lance has hidden this from them for so long. How could anyone on the team be anything but angry with him?

“Well. I can say with certainty that I didn’t see that coming, somehow.”

Lance braves a look at Keith to see him looking shocked, certainly, but not — angry. Not betrayed.

“I’m a selkie.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“I was expecting that even less.”

Lance laughs, but it’s empty.

“That’s, um. That’s not the worst part.”

Keith’s eyebrows climb even higher. “What is the worst part?”

“What do you know about selkies?” Lance says instead of answering. To his credit, Keith rolls with the slight subject change.

“Uh, part seal, part human, right? Human unless you’re wearing your coat, wherein you become a seal?”

Lance nods. “Pretty much. What happens — do you know what happens if a selkie loses their coat?“

“Then you can’t become a seal, right?”

“And we’re exiled from the ocean and our families, yes.”

Keith grimaces. “Jesus. You still have your coat, though, right?”

Lance stares at Keith’s hand, still on his thigh.

“That’s the thing,” he says.

Keith looks at him in alarm. “You lost your coat?!”

“No, no, I didn’t lose it,” Lance rushes to reassure. He bites his lip. “Well, not exactly.”

“Lance, what happened?”

Lance takes a deep breath. He might as well come out and say it. “‘Losing’ our coats is a very loose term. It can really be anything from genuinely misplacing it, or briefly setting it down. It isn’t always a problem — obviously I can’t take my pelt everywhere — but if someone were to find my coat, or pick it up, then it would be lost to me. They would own it. And by extension, own me. Kind of, anyway.”

A look of dawning horror descends on Keith’s face. “Today. In the common room. I threw you your jacket.”

Lance takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Lance, I’m so sorry.” Keith looks ashen. “Fuck, Lance, is there any way to undo it?”

“It’s not — it’s not that bad,” Lance says.

“It’s fucking horrible, Lance!” Keith grips his hair tightly, looking at Lance with wide, guilty eyes. “I didn’t — I took your pelt away from you!”

Something about Keith’s panic makes Lance calm. Suddenly, he feels completely at ease.

“You didn’t know, for starters. Besides, I actually… I think it might be okay. Really. You know the stories where sailors intentionally steal selkie’s caps so they’re forced to marry them?”

“Yeah, Lance, I do! And now I’m the jackass sailor!”

“No, you’re not,” Lance says firmly. He grabs Keith’s hand and grips it tightly. “Listen to me, okay? The sailors in the stories — they did it on purpose. They had the intent to hurt and control their wives. It’s the same in all my grandma’s stories, too — any selkie who has their pelt picked up by someone else is bound to their will, and it’s always a tragedy for them.”

“How is that helpful, Lance? How is that good?”

“Listen to me,” Lance repeats. “Did you try to trick me?”

“No.”

“Did you intentionally steal my coat so I was bound to you?”

“No.”

“Do you want to forbid me from seeing my family ever again so I am forced to stay with you?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then I think we will be fine, Keith. You’ve already returned my pelt to me. As far as I can understand, the only thing is —” Lance blushes. “Um, the only thing that changes, I think, is that we’re married, by selkie standards. I am bound to you, fatefully and magically.”

Keith blushes, too. “Oh.”

“And I tried refusing your request, earlier, and it was fine. I’m not stripped of my free will, or anything.”

“Oh.”

The silence sits between them for several moments. Lance isn’t quite sure what to do next. He definitely didn’t plan this far ahead.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Keith says. He tugs Lance’s hand, which Lance realises right then is still very much entwined with Keith’s and has been for the last who-knows-how-long. “Let’s go.”

“Settles what? Go where?” Lance asks, even as he follows Keith. He grabs his coat with his free hand, following Keith out the door.

“Well, we should get human-married too,” Keith says matter-of-factly. His face is still red, but his eyes are set and stubborn, and he looks as determined as he does for every mission.

Lance makes an embarrassing squawking noise.

“What?”

“It’s not fair that we’re only married by your standards,” Keith insists. “If you’re going to be my husband, we’re doing things all the way. We’re going to get human married. Well, as human-married as we can be, in space. I’m pretty sure Shiro is ordained, and I’m positive Hunk could make us some rings —”

“Keith, hold on a damn second!”

Keith finally pauses, looking back at Lance and seeing his horribly red face and general air of mortification.

“We can’t just — we can’t just do that!”

“Why not?”

“That’s not —” Lance’s mouth snaps shut. Now that he’s actually thinking about it, for a second, it’s really not a horrible idea.

Except for one problem.

“I don’t want you to be stuck in a marriage with me because of a stupid magic spell outside of your control,” Lance admits quietly. “It’s not fair to you. What if you fall in love for real, someday? But you’re stuck with me?”

Keith softens immediately. He tugs Lance close to him, putting a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Lance,” he says. His eyes are soft — loving, even. “I don’t want to marry anyone else. Ever.”

Lance feels tears pricking at his eyes, but he’s not sure why. “You don’t — you don’t know that. I’m a mess, Keith. Why would you ever want to be tied to me?”

Keith’s thumb runs gentle lines over his cheekbone.

“I have been tied to you for as long as I can remember,” he whispers.

Lance swallows. “That can’t be true.”

“It is. For as long as I have known you, I have been drawn to you. Everything you do, I have wanted to be a part of. Lance —” he smiles wryly — “I followed you to space. My fate was entwined with yours the moment we argued in the Garrison detainment facility. There’s no getting rid of me.”

Lance laughs — a broken, teary thing, but a laugh just the same. “You really want to fall in love with me? Are you sure?”

“Baby,” Keith whispers, leaning so close Lance can feel the heat of his breath, “I’m already halfway there.”

There’s a certain finality Lance feels, when Keith finally closes the distance. Like a string finally joining two ripped pieces together.

Lance kisses him again, just to make sure the pieces stay.

3 months ago
Is There Anything More Undoing Than A Brother?
Is There Anything More Undoing Than A Brother?
Is There Anything More Undoing Than A Brother?

Is there anything more undoing than a brother?

things that make it warm by @ace-kdj

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|| he/him ||Free Palestine.

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