#savethemedals

Jack Morrison Aesthetic Board 

Joe, this is getting extremely obvious now...

Oh, and look, there’s Del!

For ever “❤️” I receive, my muse will confess something about their romantic interest

“My oh my.” Only a loud and distressed sigh escaped her as Joe sat down at her desk, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She fold her hands in her lap and looked up again.

“So, on top of having a super annoying mun, I also have to answer inquiries about my romantic interest, despite the fact that I do not have any desires regarding romance.” The scientist conducted and rolled her eyes. This wasn’t even a topic worth talking about, and yet here she was. Perhaps it was better to just get over with it.

[Halloween rp prompts] accepting

send 👽 to invite my muse out cryptid-hunting

send ☔ to get caught in the rain with my muse

Not for the first time this evening Reinhardt was glad it was Jack’s turn to drive. Between the foggy warmth or the car’s interior and the rain-slick tempo of the windshield wipers it took all the concentration the old knight had merely to stay awake. The two had long since lapsed in to a sort of companionable silence, punctuated by the borderline inaudible twanging of the radio. A country station, Reinhardt thought, though he didn’t recall either of them actually choosing it. Then again, this far out in the woods you took what you could get.

He dozed lazily against the window, watching the scenery flash past without actually seeing it. An endless march of identical trees that each existed only for the fraction of a second they were illuminated by their headlights before melting back in to the night. He had hoped he might see some animals on their drive. A deer maybe, or even a skunk or raccoon. And so it was with a small rush of boyish excitement he noticed the faint green-gold glimmer of eyes up ahead, peering out of the undergrowth just outside the reach of their headlights. “Jack, look!” He exclaimed, pointing out the creature in the bushes as they rolled past. 

It was most definitely not a deer.

IF WISHES WERE HORSES  //  ( @keinangela )

“If you’ll put Angela back like she was before and give us a family, I’ll pay anything. Just name your price.”

The corners of his mouth are turned down slightly, chin angled toward the ground. He thinks briefly of Angela – the whip-like tail with its sharp plate at the end, heavy horns atop her head. Her violet eyes are deceptive with in their peaceful beauty

Morrison doesn’t know what happened, she’s never said, all he knows is that Angela, the real Angela, is stuck inside that demonic shell and he wants her out again more than he wants anything in the world. If wishes truly can be granted, this is the the only one he has.

“Angela did a lot for people and never expected anything for herself – she deserves better than dying out inside her own body like a candle burning down.”

After a beat of silence, Jack lifts his head so he can better regard the being before him. “You can leave the black hair though, it looks nice on her.”

She listens, just like always. Sad stories, hopes and dreams. Some wishes were impossible. At least for her. A wish could only go so far and his was just too great. As well as a violation. 

“I cannot grant that wish, Jack.”

Her voice sounds different, like an echo across his mind.

“You can’t bring the dead back and you can’t ask me to kill someone. Giving you your former Angela would mean I would have to kill the being inside her. The creature corrupting her. They are very much one and the same, yet, different.”

She thinks, head whirring for a way around the rule a way to get what she wants and to get what he wants. 

Such superficial wants in the end, always something extra.

“Perhaps asking another demon would work better, she’s intelligent, perhaps you could reason with her.”