ᴡɪʟʟ ɢʀᴀʜᴀᴍ; ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ p̶r̶o̶f̶i̶l̶e̶r̶ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wontgraham) wrote2019-04-10 08:46 pm
wontgraham) wrote2019-04-10 08:46 pm
[ All of these texts are entirely separate so enjoy your phone blowing up for a hot second, Will. ]
hey its quentin
i have an idea to sort of help
not to get us all to wake up, i'm still working on that
but to try to give us a bit of sanctuary
when are you free for me to drop by?
hey its quentin
i have an idea to sort of help
not to get us all to wake up, i'm still working on that
but to try to give us a bit of sanctuary
when are you free for me to drop by?
( Will is going to find a photo first, of the inside of Ben's front door, with the message painted on it. )
So, that happened.
Has anything like this occurred before? Before I arrived here.
So, that happened.
Has anything like this occurred before? Before I arrived here.
[Right, Ben's network post and the responses about the supply shortage officially have him concerned. He knew something was going on, but his detachment from needing to eat like a normal person meant the seriousness of the situation never hit him until now.
Naturally, he wants to make sure the people he likes who do have to eat aren't going to slowly starve to death.]
do you have enough food?
Naturally, he wants to make sure the people he likes who do have to eat aren't going to slowly starve to death.]
do you have enough food?
You're going to laugh at me when I tell you that I'm coming to you for the reassurance that I haven't absolutely lost my mind. ( not that Ben agrees with Will's teetering assessment that he's barely sane for himself, but not only has Ben found flecks of that looming fear fall from Will regularly, he's seen it for himself. in two months of telepathic connection, it was going to happen.
Ben doesn't even know how to handle that cut-off there, especially when everything else is changing around him, too. )
Everything is...pulsing. I know that sounds perfectly mad, but even the ground, outside. Everything that is the town, itself. It's making me feel a bit ill.
( he could ask Will to further convince him that it isn't just him, that all of this — the pulsing walls, the Poe-esque heartbeat that lies just underneath every surface, the pitch black sky at 8am carved with a wide red moon — isn't all in Ben's head.
instead, he asks— )
Are you all right?
Ben doesn't even know how to handle that cut-off there, especially when everything else is changing around him, too. )
Everything is...pulsing. I know that sounds perfectly mad, but even the ground, outside. Everything that is the town, itself. It's making me feel a bit ill.
( he could ask Will to further convince him that it isn't just him, that all of this — the pulsing walls, the Poe-esque heartbeat that lies just underneath every surface, the pitch black sky at 8am carved with a wide red moon — isn't all in Ben's head.
instead, he asks— )
Are you all right?
[A small package wrapped in parchment paper is left on Will's doorstep. A note with Newt's signature is tied to the package with some string.
This is long overdue and I apologize. I came upon them while going through my desk and I wanted to insure that it got to who it was meant to get to. With how stressed things have been with the last few months, I hope that perhaps this may be a good time to receive them.
-N.S.
[The package isn't something from Newt but a package entrusted to Newt to deliver. It seems to be taken care of well and it's unlikely Newt actually knew the exact contents of the letter and items.]
This is long overdue and I apologize. I came upon them while going through my desk and I wanted to insure that it got to who it was meant to get to. With how stressed things have been with the last few months, I hope that perhaps this may be a good time to receive them.
-N.S.
[The package isn't something from Newt but a package entrusted to Newt to deliver. It seems to be taken care of well and it's unlikely Newt actually knew the exact contents of the letter and items.]
I want you to know what I've just seen so that you can prepare yourself, in case it happens to you. ( Ben has been told in brief and staggering detail, but has also seen glimpses of the images of the dead that Will has been haunted by in his own life: the father that attacked his own wife and daughter, or the man-made-monster. both men that Will had sent to their graves. )
My mother is here. Or, her spirit is.
And she isn't quite alone.
My mother is here. Or, her spirit is.
And she isn't quite alone.
[ Left outside Will's door is a small, wooden crate filled with a variety of things. First, a few bottles of homemade eggnog (careful, it’s boozy!). There is also a bundle of cinnamon sticks and whole nutmeg, attached to a tiny grater so you can add fresh spices to your festive drink. Tucked away in the crate is also a festive tin, filled with a variety of holiday cookies - shortbread, gingerbread, and sugar cookies.
It’s not all just food and drink. Safely concealed in a small, cloth bag, is a charm, along with a note: wear me for a little extra warmth!. And, just for Will, there's a variety of dog toys.
A tag attached to the crate simply says: Happy holidays, from Q & Eliot.. ]
It’s not all just food and drink. Safely concealed in a small, cloth bag, is a charm, along with a note: wear me for a little extra warmth!. And, just for Will, there's a variety of dog toys.
A tag attached to the crate simply says: Happy holidays, from Q & Eliot.. ]
[Fern is intent on trying to celebrate Christmas like a regular human, so on Christmas Eve he's bringing two gifts over, one for Will and one for Toast.
Toast will be receiving athrowing-and-catching disc frisbee, which he still thinks is a weird thing to call it.
Will is getting a combat knife, because knives are always appropriate gifts and he thought that would be a lot more useful in Deerington than a nice fish gutting knife.]
Toast will be receiving a
Will is getting a combat knife, because knives are always appropriate gifts and he thought that would be a lot more useful in Deerington than a nice fish gutting knife.]
[Will will find a package on his doorstep. It's wrapped with string and brown paper and a card is attached. The package includes a book, a tin of biscuits, and another tin of...biscuits? The second tin of biscuits are shaped like bones. They're dog biscuits. Both are homemade.]
I haven't a clue what the contents of this book is like honestly speaking. It was published beyond my time, but it was in my Blessing Basket and I feel like you may perhaps find some humour in seeing wizards trying to live without magic.
Please do not mix the tins up. One of them is for your dog. You can eat them without issue and they taste fine, but the other tin of biscuits will make your dog sick.
-Newt Scamander
I haven't a clue what the contents of this book is like honestly speaking. It was published beyond my time, but it was in my Blessing Basket and I feel like you may perhaps find some humour in seeing wizards trying to live without magic.
Please do not mix the tins up. One of them is for your dog. You can eat them without issue and they taste fine, but the other tin of biscuits will make your dog sick.
-Newt Scamander
( waking in the Grady Hotel had felt like some sort of joke; difficult to buy into, tantalized by the very thing Ben had dreamed about for a month solidly, being back in Deerington. no rumbling of ocean currents against and around the buildings encapsulating them from the world above, with no way out; no overarching dimness to their surroundings. his head hurt from the violent shaking when the clocks were struck back to life, aching from the shrill sounds as his last memory of the place.
but the detail that told Ben that he was back, when he awoke on the floor of the hotel floor, was that he was wearing that stupid tasseled suit from New Year's Eve.
disoriented, Ben stumbled through all places and interactions in a haze, nearly drunken. doubling vision, sensitivity to light (and it seemed bright, even for a sunny day,) and bordering on dissociative. Will helped him home, where Cherish and Toast both sat pleasantly on Ben's couch when they arrived. dog and cat could neither ramp down their elation and relief for their return, marking the hem-ends of tailored pantlegs with fur as they strode amorously around their ankles.
and there was a...deer. a young doe, sitting on the floor. thank God Ben was in no shape to care further than to bid it a weary hello.
'I hate asking this...' Will's voice, coarse and cautious.
'I'm fine.' Ben wasn't sure if that was the case, but, 'First order of business is, sleep, until my bed physically ejects me itself.'
a sympathetic, smiling scoff from Will; and when he asked if Ben would like him to stay, Ben wasn't so tired as to miss the way his voice tilted with a sense of requesting.
'Please.'
Ben slept, unaware if anyone else in the house was doing much of the same. in fact, the image was scenic: all but the deer herself huddled into his bed, who sat curled on the floor by the foot of the bed — but all, sleeping. Ben's sleep was heavy and void for a time, no dreams, no movements. though, regardless if anyone noticed it or not, the Disney-esque scene of two men fast asleep encased in a small troupe of animals was missing...one cohort in particular.
does Peter return here, now, as a fluttering if wings whispers at Ben's bedroom window? the small doe goes herself over to it, shoves the unlocked window open with her snout, and a white bird does come through... but it isn't Peter. larger, and white in its own way, not the luminescent way Peter's body refracted like pearl — a raven, blanched in color, but still vibrantly aglow like some moonlit lantern.
it takes no time to come over to the bed, skipping its talons across the floor before taking wing to get up onto the bed. Toast and Cherish are aware, watchful, more curious than cautious as the bird climbs up Ben's chest; the raven looks over him acutely, with the eyes of someone looking, the way a doctor watches a patient's pupils for reactivity.
Ben's asleep, deeply, doesn't shift or sense the presence standing literally upon him. he doesn't feel a thing when the raven stretches itself out, touching its beak to the center of his forehead.
as the raven relaxes back, Ben's face pinches in, brow twitching. with his next breath, sucked in more sharply, he groans softly, shortly.
he then shifts, legs sleepily bracing with no clear command, spine tensing; still wrapped in the vestiges of his slumber, Ben gasps aloud as a ripple of something sharp strikes through his skull. it finally awakens him.
the raven dissipates like dust, smoking into complete transparency over him, and Ben never sees it through the confused shock of pain that thrusts him awake, ripping any awareness of the present and his surroundings while the ache virtually blinds him. the cry that blurts out is a short and surprised one, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling through both of his hands, now lifted, with palms planted firmly across his brows and forehead. with his body curling up, Ben can't produce words, only sounds of his voice grinding long and hard against untuned vocal cords, sharp and tinged with startled confusion and unbound alarm. )
but the detail that told Ben that he was back, when he awoke on the floor of the hotel floor, was that he was wearing that stupid tasseled suit from New Year's Eve.
disoriented, Ben stumbled through all places and interactions in a haze, nearly drunken. doubling vision, sensitivity to light (and it seemed bright, even for a sunny day,) and bordering on dissociative. Will helped him home, where Cherish and Toast both sat pleasantly on Ben's couch when they arrived. dog and cat could neither ramp down their elation and relief for their return, marking the hem-ends of tailored pantlegs with fur as they strode amorously around their ankles.
and there was a...deer. a young doe, sitting on the floor. thank God Ben was in no shape to care further than to bid it a weary hello.
'I hate asking this...' Will's voice, coarse and cautious.
'I'm fine.' Ben wasn't sure if that was the case, but, 'First order of business is, sleep, until my bed physically ejects me itself.'
a sympathetic, smiling scoff from Will; and when he asked if Ben would like him to stay, Ben wasn't so tired as to miss the way his voice tilted with a sense of requesting.
'Please.'
Ben slept, unaware if anyone else in the house was doing much of the same. in fact, the image was scenic: all but the deer herself huddled into his bed, who sat curled on the floor by the foot of the bed — but all, sleeping. Ben's sleep was heavy and void for a time, no dreams, no movements. though, regardless if anyone noticed it or not, the Disney-esque scene of two men fast asleep encased in a small troupe of animals was missing...one cohort in particular.
does Peter return here, now, as a fluttering if wings whispers at Ben's bedroom window? the small doe goes herself over to it, shoves the unlocked window open with her snout, and a white bird does come through... but it isn't Peter. larger, and white in its own way, not the luminescent way Peter's body refracted like pearl — a raven, blanched in color, but still vibrantly aglow like some moonlit lantern.
it takes no time to come over to the bed, skipping its talons across the floor before taking wing to get up onto the bed. Toast and Cherish are aware, watchful, more curious than cautious as the bird climbs up Ben's chest; the raven looks over him acutely, with the eyes of someone looking, the way a doctor watches a patient's pupils for reactivity.
Ben's asleep, deeply, doesn't shift or sense the presence standing literally upon him. he doesn't feel a thing when the raven stretches itself out, touching its beak to the center of his forehead.
as the raven relaxes back, Ben's face pinches in, brow twitching. with his next breath, sucked in more sharply, he groans softly, shortly.
he then shifts, legs sleepily bracing with no clear command, spine tensing; still wrapped in the vestiges of his slumber, Ben gasps aloud as a ripple of something sharp strikes through his skull. it finally awakens him.
the raven dissipates like dust, smoking into complete transparency over him, and Ben never sees it through the confused shock of pain that thrusts him awake, ripping any awareness of the present and his surroundings while the ache virtually blinds him. the cry that blurts out is a short and surprised one, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling through both of his hands, now lifted, with palms planted firmly across his brows and forehead. with his body curling up, Ben can't produce words, only sounds of his voice grinding long and hard against untuned vocal cords, sharp and tinged with startled confusion and unbound alarm. )
[It isn't long upon returning to Deerington that Fern notices the change that's come over in the town. The overt kindness, the white clothing, the flower accessories.
The flowers are a mild irritant at first, but he quickly finds himself aggravated. Insulted, even. At times it feels overwhelming, and he isn't sure what to do about these feelings. He can't very well go punch a town resident for no reason, he'll get in trouble with the Authority.
On top of that is his own flower issues. About a day after leaving Rapture he began experiencing a burst of floral growth in his hair and along his hat, at times similarly shaped like the crowns the residents have been wearing. He isn't sure what to do with that, either.
Texting Will might help. At least, he'll feel a little better talking to someone he trusts, even if it's over something so stupid.]
have you seen all the townies around
dressed weird
with the flower crowns
The flowers are a mild irritant at first, but he quickly finds himself aggravated. Insulted, even. At times it feels overwhelming, and he isn't sure what to do about these feelings. He can't very well go punch a town resident for no reason, he'll get in trouble with the Authority.
On top of that is his own flower issues. About a day after leaving Rapture he began experiencing a burst of floral growth in his hair and along his hat, at times similarly shaped like the crowns the residents have been wearing. He isn't sure what to do with that, either.
Texting Will might help. At least, he'll feel a little better talking to someone he trusts, even if it's over something so stupid.]
have you seen all the townies around
dressed weird
with the flower crowns
text. un: willthewise - once they're back in deerington
deadboywalking
2020-03-04 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
i did something.
hey
you ever think about how when we go home we're not gonna remember any of this
you ever think about how when we go home we're not gonna remember any of this
[ ATTACHMENT: image.jpg — someone's currently at the Hart Mart. ]
There's so many. I can't choose.
Or what if I got all of them?
There's so many. I can't choose.
Or what if I got all of them?
look ik i said i'd shut up and let you sleep but bitch you know better than that by now
i just keep thinking about how like they keep saying they wanna bring me back home so i don't have to go back to all that bullshit, but i was barely able to break it to them that i was murdered, how the fuck am i supposed to explain it has to be that way??
like how do you casually drop "my being alive means the entire world is in danger"?
do you just snapchat it or something???
i just keep thinking about how like they keep saying they wanna bring me back home so i don't have to go back to all that bullshit, but i was barely able to break it to them that i was murdered, how the fuck am i supposed to explain it has to be that way??
like how do you casually drop "my being alive means the entire world is in danger"?
do you just snapchat it or something???
This might be a weird thing to say, but whatever new lotion or shampoo you've been using is really nice?
It smells really good
I mean you always smell really good, though
I can't place it. Is it like vanilla? Or... something else, too
[ This... is meant for one Luna Lovegood, who has been smelling like a literal sweet dessert these days.... ]
It smells really good
I mean you always smell really good, though
I can't place it. Is it like vanilla? Or... something else, too
[ This... is meant for one Luna Lovegood, who has been smelling like a literal sweet dessert these days.... ]
Hello! My name's Martin Blackwood and I was given the name Will Graham by a boy named Fern to ask about FEAR. Is this the correct Mr. Graham?
Page 1 of 2