The Clever Coward

"That was a hard fall, are you okay?" (moongremlins) ((eyyyyyy))

“Of course I am.” Peter grumbled, pushing himself up on his hands and trying to get back to his feet. Then his leg gave way and he collapsed ungracefully back onto his face.

Ow.

((Heyyyyy!))

#coldsundayafternoons #[sorry this took me so long]#[my brain wasn't letting me write like anything]

cold-sunday-afternoons:

“Very well.” Peter agreed sullenly, still unhappy both at the necessity of accepting her help and at the spectacular fall and the laughter it had occasioned. He turned his good foot in the direction she’d specified without further comment. It was barely past mid afternoon, his internal clock told him, and yet the forest made it seem dark.

“How far do you judge it to be?” he asked, after a few minutes of stumbling around and gritting his teeth at every movement that jarred his injured leg. He hated being weak.

“Not sure, maybe another five minutes at this pace?” It was a bit of a lowball estimate, but granted it was even ground more or less there wasn’t uphill slowdown or downhill speed up. Best guess she had.

She could practically feel the tension in him, and it would be really helpful if that damned burned out shack would show up inbetween the trees. “Here, distraction. Yammer at me. Tell me about something in detail. Your Sweetheart, your job, something to keep your mind off the pain.” She’d learned that helped when she was injured, sure that caused a lot of her wierd monologues, but it was worth a shot.

"That was a hard fall, are you okay?" (moongremlins) ((eyyyyyy))

“Of course I am.” Peter grumbled, pushing himself up on his hands and trying to get back to his feet. Then his leg gave way and he collapsed ungracefully back onto his face.

Ow.

((Heyyyyy!))

#imr? they're both so awful #I miss them being awful together #coldsundayafternoons #also making up the topography as we go: the thread

cold-sunday-afternoons:

Peter glowered and winced, both at her laughter and the word ‘dweeb.’ What kind of word was that? But he didn’t resist as she dragged him to his feet. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be getting up on his own.

“And where do you suggest we go?” he demanded grumpily, pain throbbing through his calf as he tried again to put weight on it. Not broken, he decided, but not good either. He leaned a little harder on Moon’s shoulder, though he tried not to give her so much that she’d fall. Both of them hurt would do them no good.

“Dunno, we’re a little too far into the woods to make a straight shot to the van without chancing trouble.” But all the same Peter was in no position to keep up their investigation for the day. The last traces of her grin vanished, considering what they needed to do.

She shifted her grip on his arm, if she could thank her parents for anything it would be for her sturdy legs. “We can probably make it back to that burned out shack and rest for a bit there. Won’t save time, but it’ll definitely be safer.”

"That was a hard fall, are you okay?" (moongremlins) ((eyyyyyy))

“Of course I am.” Peter grumbled, pushing himself up on his hands and trying to get back to his feet. Then his leg gave way and he collapsed ungracefully back onto his face.

Ow.

((Heyyyyy!))

A better person would ignore the sheer gumption on their partner’s part and immediately go to helping them. A better person wouldn’t even think of rubbing such an epic fail in their friend’s face.

Anita ‘Moon’ Bishop was not a better person. her laugh was louder than she even expected but wow...It was just so perfect!

“Oh my god...” she huffed before leaning down and looping one of his arms around her shoulders. “Come on you dweeb. You clearly need to sit down somewhere relatively safe for a bit.”

❝ You’re can be so temperamental. ❞ She huffed, a teasing, playful look on her face (Moongremlins)

“Yes, well,” Peter retorted, trying to ignore the fact that he wanted to tease back. “If the people of your world weren’t so frustrating, I would not be tempted to behave in such a manner.” He twitched his hood back over his ears, as it had begun to fall back, and brushed imaginary dust from his sleeves. He was a little…embarrassed, about his reaction to the insulting comments those passerby had thrown out, considering that this was not Wonderland, and Moon was not Alice.

#coldsundayafternoons #don't worry I love it #also I could only guess as to what the offense was #i went with street harrassment #hope that's okay

Moon hummed, lips pinched to the side for a moment. She meant for that to be a joke, not an accusation, but it seemed like it didn’t land. “Yeah, sorry about that, but granted that itchy trigger finger of yours, I’d bet that the people back home aren’t much better.” she raised a brow, crooked smile back on her face. There was no way that he couldn’t realize she was joking if she made it obvious, right? Was that asshole out of line? hell yeah, and she would have completely destroyed him herself if she were alone.

But she wasn’t. And Peter seemed to be just as willing to rip creeps like that a new one as she was. Sometimes it was still weird to consider, that she wasn’t alone...

ice-like-dreams

(( I couldn’t get it to post from there, but here’s my Peter with Moon. (Sorry if I drew her wrong, Vega! ) He’s trying to pretend that she’s not there/he doesn’t like her. ))

#...oh my god #look at these fucking nerds #art #[muse]#coldsundayafternoons

(Moongremlins) Love is... Something you have to work at. After the flames of infatuation fade and you realize the object of your affections isn't as perfect as you once thought they were. You could list off their annoying habits, but you never would because you don't want to hurt them. After the first tearful argument when you're on the brink of packing your things and leaving, but you choose to stick around and make it work. That's love.

“You are entitled to your own opinion on the matter, I suppose.” Peter muttered grudgingly, red eyes focused on the middle distance instead of the plate of food on the table before him- which he had yet to touch.

In his experience, love was something all-encompassing and complete, blinding the victim to all but the object of their passion. What Moon called ‘infatuation’ was what he knew as love. Perhaps the two concepts worked differently in the different worlds. Maybe that was why Alice seemed so…cautious and cool with him.

Or maybe he- maybe he was as broken as some would claim.

She could keep going with that, how every relationship is guaranteed rocks. How if one person sees the other as perfect there’s gonna be a day when they shatter that image, and the relationship may not last past that. But Peter obviously didn’t agree with her, so what was the point of arguing her case? She’d just frustrate the both of them if she tried. Idly, she cut off a small wedge of her Waffles (thank god for 24 hour breakfast at this little Diner) and popped it into her mouth.

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, sanctification is just as much of a disservice to someone as demonetization.” Of course, Better judgment or not, she could never stop herself from a good debate now could she? “But what is your definition oh, Wise One?” She quickly amended herself with a joke, crooked smile and grand gesture with her fork included, trying to keep the tone of the discussion light.

Peter picked up a napkin, carefully keeping it between himself and his water-spotted fork as he poked at the ‘hash browns’ on his plate.

“Love is… Putting all the needs of the one you care for before any of the needs of yourself.” he said simply, after a long pause. It was, after all, what he tried again and again to do for Alice, and was in the end too weak to do. He was not strong enough to isolate himself completely from her in order to allow her to forget. The weakness of an unnecessary being, wishing to be wanted.

“And as for sanctification.” he took a bite, made a face, and put his fork down. “In my experience, you can know what others would call ‘faults’ in your beloved. But to the lover, are they still faults? Is it sanctification when the one who loves can acknowledge the bad without seeing it that way themselves?”

#coldsundayafternoons #Don't you mean he...peter'd out?#-rimshot-

“Well that's true of all kinds of love I guess. I suppose that's just an agree to disagree type thing.” Moon hummed, watching with a small prick of worry as he immediately turned down his hash browns. Sure, they couldn't afford much, but maybe she could flag down the waitress and get him... like a fruit cup or something?

“Well you get what I mean though. People aren't infallible, by the very nature of life, even people you care about are going to hurt you. It's important to be aware of someone's faults, even if you don't see them as such.” She took a quick sip of her juice before continuing “If someone is temperamental, even if you consider it 'attractive' you should know ways to diffuse a situation. If someone is stubborn even if you find it 'cute' you have to know how to make a compromise. That's what I mean by it taking work. You want me to like, flag down a waitress and get you something else?”

(Moongremlins) Love is... Something you have to work at. After the flames of infatuation fade and you realize the object of your affections isn't as perfect as you once thought they were. You could list off their annoying habits, but you never would because you don't want to hurt them. After the first tearful argument when you're on the brink of packing your things and leaving, but you choose to stick around and make it work. That's love.

“You are entitled to your own opinion on the matter, I suppose.” Peter muttered grudgingly, red eyes focused on the middle distance instead of the plate of food on the table before him- which he had yet to touch.

In his experience, love was something all-encompassing and complete, blinding the victim to all but the object of their passion. What Moon called ‘infatuation’ was what he knew as love. Perhaps the two concepts worked differently in the different worlds. Maybe that was why Alice seemed so…cautious and cool with him.

Or maybe he- maybe he was as broken as some would claim.

#coldsundayafternoons #meme: Don't hurt me no more #heyo

She could keep going with that, how every relationship is guaranteed rocks. How if one person sees the other as perfect there's gonna be a day when they shatter that image, and the relationship may not last past that. But Peter obviously didn't agree with her, so what was the point of arguing her case? She'd just frustrate the both of them if she tried. Idly, she cut off a small wedge of her Waffles (thank god for 24 hour breakfast at this little Diner) and popped it into her mouth.

“Look, as far as I'm concerned, sanctification is just as much of a disservice to someone as demonetization.” Of course, Better judgment or not, she could never stop herself from a good debate now could she? “But what is your definition oh, Wise One?” She quickly amended herself with a joke, crooked smile and grand gesture with her fork included, trying to keep the tone of the discussion light.

My god it’s been eons since I’ve posted on here but whatever, This is for my buddy TC who’s birthday was yesterday (@sweetdragonseeker) and they told me they’d like something from one of our rps

so here’s that masquerade dance scene cuz it was super cute

#art #about Moon #coldsundayafternoons #sweetdragonseeker

(moongremlins if you wanna) “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“If this were a fairy tale, you would be dancing with another man.” Peter retorted, spinning her around and dipping her, as the music dictated. There was a frown on his face below the edge of the mask he wore, but his voice was more resigned than vindictive.

cold-sunday-afternoons:

“I believe,” he commented dryly, finally choosing to turn and lead her from the floor with the muscle of his arm tight beneath her hand, “That giving into my desire to murder the room at large would be rather counterproductive.” And he’d rather be productive and get home faster, even if it cost him the expenditure of a great deal of effort in order to keep his gun in its clock shape.

She couldn’t hold back the small chuckle at that. “Yes I suppose so. Causing a scene would put a damper on the party.” Moon raised a brow at his twitching. He was leading her away from the dance floor, It made sense, the edge of the dancefloor was far easier to avoid other people.

(moongremlins if you wanna) “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“If this were a fairy tale, you would be dancing with another man.” Peter retorted, spinning her around and dipping her, as the music dictated. There was a frown on his face below the edge of the mask he wore, but his voice was more resigned than vindictive.

He was fast becoming irritated with the crowd on the dance floor. “That is not an…unworthy test.” he admitted at last, with a curve to his lips that suggested the words tasted bitter. Another elbow landed in the small of his back, and he spun again, pulling Moon with him, in order to bestow a glower that had the unfortunate offender scurrying from the dance floor.

“Thank you.” It was pretty obvious he wasn’t all that fond of the idea, but she supposed an obscure compliment as an obscure compliment. Though she couldn't hold back the snigger at the glare Peter had shot some poor sap as they spun around. She supposed that was what you got when you had the unfortunate inability to be a decent person and watch where you’re going. At least he hadn’t tried to hurt anyone yet. “I’m impressed with your people skills, tonight must be a special night indeed.”

(Tis Moongremlins if you want to) ┼ 8

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but-

He shuddered against the wall of the van, trying to calm himself down. Alice should forget him. His absence could only make that easier. He should be happy for her; without him, she could be happy. But it still felt as though his entire world was shattering beneath his feet. He gripped a hand around his clock, and it became a gun in his hand, more comforting than the constantly ticking timepiece, but not enough to put his mind at ease.

She was trying to tell him she cared. That Sunday afternoons- he- was important. To her.

Peter shook his head, refusing the knowledge, refusing to accept what she seemed to be trying to convey. He wasn’t important, not to HABIT, not to her.

She doesn’t love me like Alice. No one can love me like Alice. No one ever can.

His finger tightened on the trigger, and for a moment, a single split-second tick of his clock, he was sure he was going to shoot her.

No. Moon doesn’t love you. But she does care.

His arm fell as though he could no longer support it, the gun still clutched with a white-knuckled grip at his side. A single tear tracked down one pale cheek, but he refused to look away.

“Why…are you telling me this?” he asked quietly, and somehow he was both exhausted and hurt at the same time.

#coldsundayafternoons #Don't worry this is great

She sucked in a silent breath when his hand tightened around the trigger of the gun, the only outer hint of the knot suddenly tightening in her gut again being the bit of blood welling up on one corner of her mouth from biting her lip.

Oh...she should have known that fate wasn’t kind enough to have let her die after she’d done what was keeping her going. sheshouldhaveknownsheshouldhaveknownonetwitchandshe’dbeasplatter

And then his arm fell down with the lightest of thumps. She listened through her quick breaths, trying not to heave in a sort of primal relief. Her arms trembled as she started to reach out again. Tears started to stud her own eyes, but from a very different cause.

She held him steady with one hand on his shoulder and slowly reached up to brush away his tears, the heel of her palm carefully covered with her hoodie sleeve.

“Because” She cursed the waver in her voice “Because You’re my friend.” She took another deep breath, fighting back another wave of heaving for breath. “I-I can’t speak for anyone else, I don’t know Wonderland, but I can speak for myself. And You are my friend. Even if you keep telling me I shouldn’t be.”

(Tis Moongremlins if you want to) ┼ 8

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but-

He shuddered against the wall of the van, trying to calm himself down. Alice should forget him. His absence could only make that easier. He should be happy for her; without him, she could be happy. But it still felt as though his entire world was shattering beneath his feet. He gripped a hand around his clock, and it became a gun in his hand, more comforting than the constantly ticking timepiece, but not enough to put his mind at ease.

He blinked slowly, as much to clear the tears building in his eyes as to express his confusion, and dropped his eyes back to his gun, his still slowly shaking hand.

HABIT had… chosen him? Because he was best suited to…guide, her? But…That was contrary to everything he’d been told. Everything he’d been led to believe about his presence in this world.

“I was chosen because of my clock.” he retorted, though less certain now. Her words made sense, on some level that the angry, scared part of his brain, the part that kept insisting that all would be better off if he killed himself, didn’t want to acknowledge.

Then she started talking about Sundays, and his eyes flicked back up to her, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean, why she was telling him this, but something stopped him, and the words just wouldn’t come. So he just continued to stare, the gun wavering slightly in front of her face.

#coldsundayafternoons #all of my experience in childcare is second hand from my sister

“HABIT’s a liar.” she stated simply. “He gives people the right goal to look for, but he lies about his reasoning so he still sounds high and mighty.” She shrugged. “What I’m guessing is, the clocks made him choose your world. But not You. HABIT chose you in specific because he thought you, as Peter White, would be best for the Job.” He was talking to her, he was talking to her and not at her. That was a step in the right direction, She was on the right track. Her breathing started to go back to normal as the gun started to wobble in his grip.

She wouldn’t chance touching him again without it at least a little bit down, but she was helping, somehow she was. He wasn’t responding to her subject change, but he was listening. And hey, escapism was what she did best, and even if it was through memories that were a bit painful to dredge up, she supposed it was worth it.

“Yeah, and believe me I absolutely hated it at first, why chase around a bunch of children playing leap frog when I could be hanging out kids my age or skipping church altogether for some well needed sleep?” She cracked a small, sad smile at the memories. “But one afternoon I started pushing Quinn, Noah, and Sydney on the tire swing, and they were clinging to the chains and shrieking with laughter and I just thought, ‘I am so glad I’m here to make these kids laugh, anyone pushing a tire swing could do it, but I’m glad it’s me’. And you know? Soon enough I was looking forward to the afternoons after service when I’d mess around with the little tykes until their parents picked them up.”

(moongremlins if you wanna) “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“If this were a fairy tale, you would be dancing with another man.” Peter retorted, spinning her around and dipping her, as the music dictated. There was a frown on his face below the edge of the mask he wore, but his voice was more resigned than vindictive.

Peter raised a pale brow, swinging her back up and making another spinning turn. Why did these people feel that they needed such strange maneuvers right on top of each other? “Oh? And what test would you place in order to determine the worth of your champion?” he inquired. Usually, he would have been content with silence, but their conversation kept him focused, rather than allowing him to think all the frivolous people surrounding them, with their germs and obvious idiocy. Kept him from shooting the fool behind him who kept laughing at and indecent decibel level.

#coldsundayafternoons #as do i #Sometimes profond sometimes absurdity taken seriously #or a healhty mix of both

“I’d probably do something that’d test them on their character. Like, if I were standing between a knight and a fair maiden or something, I’d only assume the maiden was my friend.” She shrugged, very barely curving her back just in time to miss a stray elbow from a twirling couple too busy looking into eachother’s eyes to notice anyone else. “And you know, I would only let my friend be with someone who respects them and treats them right.” she grinned slightly at him “so probably something that requires them to prove to me they know how to treat people.”

(Tis Moongremlins if you want to) ┼ 8

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but-

He shuddered against the wall of the van, trying to calm himself down. Alice should forget him. His absence could only make that easier. He should be happy for her; without him, she could be happy. But it still felt as though his entire world was shattering beneath his feet. He gripped a hand around his clock, and it became a gun in his hand, more comforting than the constantly ticking timepiece, but not enough to put his mind at ease.

He curled his lip slightly, but his finger eased a little on the trigger. She wasn’t wrong; he had done what he could to keep her alive, though he wasn’t sure why.

“It doesn’t matter.” he said, to both her and himself, voice stark. “Anyone from my world could have accomplished that task.” his free hand rose, pressing against his chest over where his clock ticked mechanically beneath his skin. “I myself am not necessary for your survival. Your HABIT can simply take another when I am gone.” That same hand dropped back to his side.

Because I’m nothing special. Nothing unique. Worthless. Replaceable. Even here. Especially here.

While it was true she didn’t know how anyone else from Wonderland would act or react around her in these circumstances, she did know that HABIT was probably bluffing when he had told Peter that he was just a random selection. But she could see the littlest but of tension start to leave. Maybe she was on the right track?

“I don’t think so.” If anything she felt full confidence in this answer. “I think HABIT chose you specially. I was at a bit of a tipping point, and if anything came on too hard or loudly with anything but the end goal in mind It probably would have sent me over the edge, so he picked you. Not much one for distractions and goal oriented enough to keep me on task.” HABIT doesn’t do things at random. If there was one thing that she learned in grudgingly accepting the madman’s help it was that everything was for a reason.

She started to think back on her conversations with Peter, there was something he’d said once.. when he was first telling her about his world. Something about Sunday in the afternoon?

“You know, back before my life became hell, Every Sunday I’d help my mother with childcare at our church.” At best she had her memories right, at worse she’d at least gotten a decent change of subject to hopefully get Peter’s mind off of his woes.

(moongremlins if you wanna) “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“If this were a fairy tale, you would be dancing with another man.” Peter retorted, spinning her around and dipping her, as the music dictated. There was a frown on his face below the edge of the mask he wore, but his voice was more resigned than vindictive.

“The value of a being lies in that which values them.” he replied evenly. “If they can be replaced without notice on the part of those with whom they interact, or exchanged for anther without noticeable change to the tale, then they are unworthy of the treasure which they seek.” the rest of the male dancers were dipping their partners now, so he followed suit, wondering who had invented this particular dance; it was much longer and more complicated than most of those they danced in Wonderland. It was lucky he was a quick study.

The dip in the dance was a little strange, Moon was glad that at least she could catch up with a simple back bend, really, who wrote this song? “Respectfully disagree, but I won’t fight you on it. Your test of worth after all.” She always thought worth had to do with what how a person treats others rather than their impression in others. Either way it wasn’t her problem in that way. She was content to just twirl about in her frankly a bit silly dress and hold a conversation with her partner.

(Tis Moongremlins if you want to) ┼ 8

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but-

He shuddered against the wall of the van, trying to calm himself down. Alice should forget him. His absence could only make that easier. He should be happy for her; without him, she could be happy. But it still felt as though his entire world was shattering beneath his feet. He gripped a hand around his clock, and it became a gun in his hand, more comforting than the constantly ticking timepiece, but not enough to put his mind at ease.

The moment Moon touched him, Peter jerked his arm away, lifting the gun and pointing it at her without so much as looking up; they were close enough that the barrel almost brushed her nose.

Shoot her. What does she matter? She’s just another pointless existence. Just another meaningless life. Just like you.

His shaking intensified, so badly that his finger twitched on the trigger of the gun, not quite pulling back. He wanted to shoot her. To shoot himself. For everything to just…end. He wanted…to see Alice again. To have one person who cared.

He raised his head slowly, staring at Moon with stark, painfully bright red eyes. “She would be happier without me. Everything would be better without me” he whispered, though the grip on his gun didn’t waver. He was almost tempted to do it. To shoot her, and then maybe himself.