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luther "the big shy one" hargreeves | #00.01 ([personal profile] obediences) wrote2019-03-09 01:00 am
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ic open post & overflow.



Feel free to drop starters or texts or meme links here! COME @ ME

for ~rumorist -- backstory / voice-testing

[personal profile] rumorist 2019-03-14 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
"Don't do that," Number Three replies, her voice soft despite the warning. "You can't have eyes in the back of your head, no matter what Diego used to say."

Allison talks about their brother as though he's gone; as though his departure from the house has rendered him lifeless, a figure only to be spoke of in the past tense, even though he still lives in the same city. He still lives and breathes though perhaps it might be better if he didn't (because of everything, Allison finds herself thinking of Ben yet again).

All of the others are dead or gone but only she and Luther remain. She lays her cheek against the palm of Luther's hand, feeling warm against his touch, his nearness, but only for a moment. When Allison pulls away, it shatters something between them; reminds them both that such closeness can't be allowed. She turns her back to Luther, shoulders squared as she breaks apart from him. (She remembers Luther's fury when the others had departed; the hurt in his voice as he accused them of turning their backs on this house, on their family. Despite this, she plunges forward.)

"This mission was doomed from the start." There's a sharp edge to her voice like a cold steel blade forged as she speaks. "We're not a team anymore, Luther. We're a pair." It sounds nearly like an insult. She sighs, permits herself a certain softness to round out the sharp edges of cutting out this part of her life. "It's getting harder and harder to do this on our own."
Edited 2019-03-14 02:17 (UTC)

[personal profile] rumorist 2019-03-16 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)
A silence gestates in the absence of Allison's response as she struggles with the phrasing of her next words. Too condemning of their current lifestyle, and Luther would become defensive; he would buckle down and embolden his commitment to trying again despite the cost to him, to them. His unwillingness to accept defeat was admirable to her, so long as they were still on the same side. This no longer feels the case for her.

She clasps his shoulder with a grip firm enough to bolster him here before her. It's now. It has to be now. "We could leave." The entreaty hosts yearning but also ferocious confidence. Not only does she want this, but she believes they can do it. Together, most preferably.

[personal profile] rumorist 2019-03-17 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
"What I mean is —" a scoff catches in her throat as she peers somewhere past him, this house, somewhere she's been dreaming of for a long time, and yearns to seek it out. She furrows her brow as though it pains her, being captured here instead. "Don't you wanna get out of this musty old house? Move out on our own, get out from beneath Dad's prying gaze?"

The memory of a dusty afternoon in the attic floats to the forefront of Allison's thoughts, but she also remembers the glint of light off of their father's monocle, and the happiness from that memory blackens like ash. This place darkened even the brightest of moments throughout her childhood. (Not only hers, but Luther's too.)

"We can leave the Umbrella Academy, Luther," she says, giving him permission if he's only willing to take the leap. She's there to take it with him, always. "We can leave, go out and get a place of our own, and be adults?"
Edited 2019-03-17 00:35 (UTC)

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hellogoodhigh: (easycompany-UA1x3-214)

leaving home

[personal profile] hellogoodhigh 2019-03-26 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
He'd been planning this for some time now.

Sneaking out bits of money, stashing clothes away. And the moment of their 18th birthday, the one that Five and Ben would never see because the bastard that kept all of them here, he planned on running.

He didn't know where, really. Bus stop, then train station, then getting halfway across the country for all it mattered. Because once he turned his back on those doors, he wouldn't be coming back.

Now all he has to do is convince himself to walk through them.

The house is quiet, everyone asleep, so why is he holding back? He's left the note in his room, he's got everything he can carry, so why is it so hard to walk out those doors?
hellogoodhigh: (UA1x2-232)

aww little luther

[personal profile] hellogoodhigh 2019-03-31 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, something like that." His voice is distant, a whisper, and he doesn't look to Luther at all. Merely stares out those doors like it can somehow make him put one foot in front of the other and keep going.
"... Bon Anniversare and all."

He finally looks back to Luther, because it's really just the three of them in this house now, isn't it? Luther, Allison, and Klaus.
Vanya had been sent away to boarding school. And Diego? Had left a few months earlier. Maybe that's why it's so hard to walk out the door, because he doesn't know what's going to happen next.

Were any of them really ready for the world outside? Was he? Was Ben?
"... Was thinking about going to Griddy's. You want to come?"
hellogoodhigh: (UA1x1-213)

MCU AU

[personal profile] hellogoodhigh 2020-01-31 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
It’s been a long time since he’s been home.

He doesn’t want to be here, is admittedly a little nervous about being here, alone, back to the house of horrors he’s tried to hard to leave behind. But he’d asked for his inheritance, and with it, of course, came certain conditions. Namely that he show up to the Umbrella Academy and prove that he was worthy of it.

His nerves are practically on fire as he stands in front of the door, gripping the handle and trying to calm himself as he pulls the door open.
“Dad?” He calls, and it practically echoes through the empty hallways.
“Pogo? Mom?”
hellogoodhigh: (UA1x4-358)

[personal profile] hellogoodhigh 2020-02-03 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
One of several prodigal sons, he supposes. Five is still somewhere out there- he's tried to summon his ghost to no avail. And Diego? Well, last Klaus heard, the Vigilante apple seemed to fill this tree. But there's One- ever faithful. Ever vigilant, and Klaus finds himself snapping to attention at his voice like he's a kid again.

"Luther-?" Of course. Of course Luther would still be here, after all this time. How many years has it been, nine, ten, since they last saw each other? And he's only gotten more intimidating over the years.

Slowly, Klaus exhales, and wishes that he'd brought someone other than Ben along, who's following behind him half a step. Sobriety makes him sharply focused, and he can see the ghosts that haunt the corners of the building, peering down from the banisters to catch a glimpse of the new visitor.

"... It's, uh, it's been a while." Understatement of the century. And he imagines that they both have a lot to catch up on. For Klaus, well, he's been in New York. Got sober, helped fight a crime syndicate, moonlighting vigilante work-

"... You, uh, done anything recently?"
Edited 2020-02-03 04:11 (UTC)
hellogoodhigh: (UA1x2-205)

Just in case you forgot this is from a crossover AU....

[personal profile] hellogoodhigh 2020-03-10 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
“I’m not signing anything yet.” It had been a warning from Matt. Not to sign anything until his lawyer- in this case Matt Murdock himself- took a look at it. Knowing his father there would be stipulations involved when it came to his inheritance- mandated sobriety, donning the mask of “the Seance” again, using him as an example to bring the others back to the academy.

So he crosses his arms, defensive, and at a loss for words- especially when Luther offers him a drink.
“Yeah, if it’s non-alcoholic.” He loosens up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh. I got sober. One year.”

And that’s not the only thing he’s been doing in New York. He wonders if One would be proud, knowing that he was... loosely part of a team. Dancing with the Devil and dealing with daughters of dragons and men with unbreakable skin and other assorted oddities. That he has his own gimmick, his own costume, his own mask that he wears that’s nothing like the academy.

Or would he be furious? Because he’s not the one leading him?
No longer Number One?

“.... You should come out to New York, you know. I could introduce you to someone. Several someone’s.”
numberthree: (☂ 00.168)

Mask or Menace ☂ January 2020; Capes & Cowls AU Plot

[personal profile] numberthree 2020-07-23 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Her alarm had gone off at still too early to even be alive o'clock, and she'd wrinkled her nose and buried her face in her pillow, even as she gropped on the bed table to make the blaring noise stop. It was pitch dark, and she had actually been halfway back to oblivion when a forehead pressed into the back of her shoulder and part of her neck, sleep-thick breath ghosting against bare skin, "You'll be late again."

There was a huffed-groan of exasperation into her pillow, even as she knew he was right. She loved both her jobs, enough she was willing to put up with things like this, but it still took creative scheduling and ungodly hours sometimes. There was a chuckle behind her, that she could translate without language guides. He knew she didn't want to miss it, even if she didn't want to get up either. That this side of her frustration was better than the other one.

It was Sunday. Sunday's should be for sleeping in. At least for sleeping until the sun rose. Or was anywhere near rising. She let out an over-exaggerated sigh and slid her arm under her to push up. Words quiet and as much to her, as toward him. "Fine. I'm up, I'm up." Trying to will her eyes to want to be open and her eyelids to stop feeling like lead weights. "A shower, and I'll leave some coffee warming for when you get up."

The noise from the otherside of the bed could have as much been committal, if he was still awake, as it could have been just a mimicked noise to hers, if he'd already fallen back to sleep. She wanted even ten more minutes, but she pushed herself up to standing and went to do just what she said she had. Wandering through the dark bedroom and bathroom without lights, until a door was closed between them. It was easier once the cold shower started. Villainous cruelty, but a fast, full wakeup call for all her nerves.

Everything was a bit easier after that. Getting clean, all efficiently. Getting dressed, silently in the dark. Drinking enough coffee to float this familiar, and eternally, wrong side of four am. If she'd known the call she'd get halfway to her destination, she wouldn't have had so much coffee.

But as it is, when Luther gets up, he'll find a surprise that isn't coffee.
Curled into a corner of the couch, studying the day's newspaper with a pen.
Edited 2020-08-03 18:55 (UTC)
numberthree: (☂ 00.02)

[personal profile] numberthree 2020-08-04 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
She can hear him coming before he does. Getting off the bed. The sound of his steps in the silence. The sound of the silence right before his voice calls her out on existing, and her straight-faced focus on the paper crumples without any need to keep it like any of the other poker faces she keeps with her pretty face on every other day, model or actress. Or interrogator.

Giving it the breath of a second to look up leisurely from searching the ads and missing persons for anything that might look like coded messages the rats in the underground were trying to slip under everyone else's noses. Like she might not have all noticed that fact herself. About being home. On her own couch.

Allison smiled and leaned into the back of the couch, and the kiss in her hair, even as she was already moving. To look up, reach up a hand, to find the side of his neck, and tip her face up toward his, taking in the pillowcase lines still on his cheek and part of his forehead, even as she said, with imperious pertness, as though wrongfully slandered. "I didn't lie. I had a gig."

But deciding to tug on his neck and to go about dragging him down another inch for a kiss, it might still have the exceedingly Cheshire edges of her smile on her lips, on his, at still having not actually answered the unspoken question. Only the words of the playful, surprised accusation that heralded it.
Edited 2020-08-04 04:30 (UTC)
numberthree: (☂ 01.21)

[personal profile] numberthree 2020-08-04 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
The drop, like an anything but small pile of bricks, against the floor and the back of the couch, elicits a noise in the back of Allison's throat that is part disbelieving snort, part delighted laugh, and still mostly utterly already forgotten even as it sounds. When his arms loop around her, even from there, and his lips start trailing down her skin.

Her head already tipping against the top of the couch and his upper arm on the other side, exposing more and more skin, delicate and vulnerable, and only ever touched by him, the single and only person in two worlds who was ever allowed to see even a single bone in her body as vulnerable. The hand on his neck turning into pressing fingertips and the accompanying bite of nails, unconcerned and unnoticed, as everything became the smallest shudder that rolled down her spine, pushing her both back against the couch and up into the pressure of his teeth teasing.

It's still lingering in her voice, saying, "Maybe I should have."

Luther was nothing if not making a compelling case.
numberthree: (☂ 01.35)

[personal profile] numberthree 2020-08-05 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
It's always the razor edge.

Even as she hits back, undaunted, always undaunted, at that tone and his teeth, running small nips in all the right places, sinks its hooks into her skin the way it always does, always will. "It's in the kitchen, not on the couch."

The skip of her heart, and the prickle sensation spreading out from every place his lips touch, his teeth carefully taunt. The things she likes best, that send her to a true disarray, are the things her day job doesn't like to contend with. But nothing like rationality, or even past collisions of the two, can ever actually stop it starting to build.

The want already on the back of her tongue, the tips of her teeth,
her lips pressed, against a small sound escaping, the want to say harder.

She doesn't want to play nice, but when does she ever, when no one here can actually make her do anything she doesn't want to do, and somehow she still tries. A contest between insanity and Luther. Turning more sideways on the couch, inside his arms, feet sliding under her neatly so she can push upward on her knees, and put an arm on the couch back between them, letting the paper and pen end up wherever they do, while gaining a little height and the ability to move, as her hand finds his chin and she demands his mouth, a little more roughly.

Needs to put even the faintest burn of that want somewhere else, and his mouth is always the best place for that. "None." Carelessly dropping words into kisses. "I called Gabriel and he doesn't need me either--" she pulls back, just enough to see his eyes, the tip of her thumb brushing from the edge of his mouth up part of his cheekbone, while the rest of her hand stayed still, more than a little possessive, against his cheek and jaw. Eyes bright, against the words she chooses ever on purpose. "--so it has the makings of a very--"

Allison leaned that half-inch in to almost kiss him again, ghosting his lips with her breath, through the smile trying valiantly to break free of her over the top crestfallen look. "--boring day."
Edited 2020-08-05 13:20 (UTC)

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