#TYPO UGH

[purgetrooperfox]

*Blinky Blink*

gazcte post op, shadow!roach ?, talk is overrated (tentatively re/working), and refsheets for the WIP Game pleasse?🙏💘

[wip titles game]

hiiiiii 👁👁

shadow!roach is a stab at What If Roach In The Reboots, basically hinging on him surviving the Loose Ends fire because someone in Shadow Company saved him. I was thinking maybe for leverage against 141 reasons that ultimately fail and then Graves gets it into his head that if they piece Roach back together with the right story, they can use him. spin a tale about Price sending him and Ghost into a trap and leaving them to die, reframing who betrayed who. Operation: Turn Roach Into An Attack Dog. give him a vendetta against Price, misguided desperation for revenge at all costs, extremely poor coping with trauma, and Graves holding his leash. Roach's "loyal to a fault" deal switches hands because Graves saved him, healed him, showed him the truth

then Ghost is alive, but that's not his Ghost. everyone is around, but they're all wrong everything is all wrong. :)

He imagines the ceiling collapsing. The way dust would do the air and fill his lungs in a cheap imitation of gasoline and smoke. Rubble would be heavy, layered with medical equipment. Machines meant to keep people alive could just as well crush the life out of them. It might even be faster than all that, if he takes a good blow to the head. Losing consciousness all at once would mitigate the pain.

The fissure his life creates in the laws of nature would be allowed to heal.

When he blinks focus back into his vision, the ceiling is intact, if not in prime condition. Those life-saving machines buzz and drone what's become a familiar lullabye. He could almost sleep, were it not for the hell he knows waits for him when he lets his guard down.

Letting his head list to the side, he gets confirmation that Graves hasn't left. Yet. Impatience bounces his knee in a rhythmless staccato.

“Well?” he asks, like Roach was listening to a word he said. Like he expects an answer.

The urge to spit and seethe and snap at his throat rises like a tide. Unstoppable. Inevitable. It would be an unwinnable fight, though, and Roach doesn't pick unwinnable fights. He keeps his trap shut. Won't speak until he gets up on level ground, evens the playing field.

Graves isn't so stupid that he hasn't figured that out, but he keeps coming by and running his mouth. The why of it is beyond Roach's reckoning.

aheem gazcte post op is . I dumped Nocte in call of duty and gave him big gay emotions for Gaz. it's very self indulgent, because I too have big gay emotions for Gaz, just a little h/c post-mission recovery blurb. maybe after ultimatum, maybe pre-cod4, idk but Gaz is ambiguous injured. Nocte's there, he's unimpressed, he's worried, he's angry, he's trying very hard to compartmentalize

“I can't be everywhere at once.”

“No,” cuts sharp, “but you can go where the captain sends you.”

A muscle twitches in Gaz's jaw, try as he might to keep a grip on his temper. “I saved the captain's life.”

“And nearly paid for it with your own.”

The fan sputters in the corner, like its own protest to their present condition.

“I'm just trying to get everyone out alive.”

Nocte scowls – stubborn and furious and bright – and refuses to back down. “Maybe you should start by following orders, same as the rest of us.”

talk is overrated (let's just fight) is a vox undercover mission fic that I started a long ass time ago and didn't finish even though I mapped out the whole plot :/ what's written needs a rework so bad

Sometimes, Fox got the impression that troopers on the frontlines felt bad for the Guard. There were several reasons that sympathy would be warranted, from being stuck on Coruscant, to the politicians, to the Chancellor, to acting as military police, to the constant harassment, to the rate of unpunished murder of clones on the streets, and so on. Those weren't the reasons that Fox heard, though. No, the rest of the GAR pitied them because they didn't have a Jedi. Which made no sense whatsoever.

The Guard didn't have a designated Jedi, but they had Quinlan Vos. He was already more than Fox could handle. Vos was a deliberate nuissance and seemed to derive some sadistic pleasure from derailing Fox's entire day. For all that Rex and Cody complained about their admittedly crazy generals, Fox struggled to believe that they could possibly be worse than Vos.

It wasn't becoming of a trooper loyal to the Republic and, of course, to the Jedi, but Fox thought he might hate Quinlan Vos. The feeling seemed to be mutual, for all that Jedi weren't supposed to hate. Fox thought he hated Vos when he came barging, unannounced, into his office at all hours of the day for no reason but to eaate time. He hated the sarcastic flirting and patronizing nicknames. He hated the way he took nothing seriously and his complete lack of professional decorum. Fox hated how familiar he acted around the Guard and himself in particular.

He hated Vos' confident, swaggering gait and the way he draped himself across furniture instead of sitting on it like a normal person. He hated the way gold tattoos contrasted against his skin and brought out flecks of amber in his eyes. He hated how competent he was when he actually focused on a job. He hated his idiotic, regulation breaking outfit and the view of his stupid blasted arms and the knowledge that Vos could hand his ass to him if he wanted to.

And Fox hated, hated, himself for being attracted to such a bastard-ass Jedi

aaaaaand refsheets are gsheets I'm working on for my ocs! I'll link them to a ref post on here when they're done!

[stonerzelda]

I run a ytp sanctuary...yea a lot of them that once flourished 15 years ago tread close to endangerment now, so we do what we can to keep them happy and active here...oh look, that ones firin his lazar!! Haha he loves to "blahhhgh". It's a sign of contentment. We used to house them with the Kings but we found it was safer to seperate their enclosures on account of the threat of getting dinner blasted. Hm? Oh yeah thats Shaggys cage, he needs to be kept seperate to thrive since he keeps realizing we're the sherrif cuz we're out here and hes in there

[skzms]

thinking about pampering minho and kissing his ouchys and treating him like a princess until he feels better :((((((((

-gimmeurtmi

can i combine these two a lil because 😭 i wanna kiss him so badlyyyy

“I told you I’m fine.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, now say it like you actually want me to believe it,” you scoffed.

Minho’s face drew into a scowl he swallowed his retort, just watched you rub the cream into his aching wrist. When you accidentally ever so slightly bent it in the wrong direction in the process, he hissed, but immediately straightened, trying to play it off. Dammit.

But to his surprise you didn’t gloat, didn’t give him a look that said ‘I told you so’. No, you just lifted his hand to your lips and pressed a feather-light kiss to his fingers, whispering gentlest, “sorry, baby.”

He watched you intently, how your soft lips grazed his skin, how your lashes cast gentle shadows over your cheeks, how gently you held his wrist. When you straightened up, he immediately looked away.

“You don’t have to do this, the cream smells like shit,” he murmured petulantly, his stare burning holes into his stupid achy wrist.

“I don’t care,” you said simply as you put his hand back into his own leg. Minho’s heart seized painfully in his chest when you suddenly got up and walked towards the door. Were you gonna leave? Surely not just like this, right. You’d say goodbye. You’d kiss him. He didn’t want you to leave.

None of those thoughts were formulated into a coherent thought, his mouth opening and closing stupidly as he watched you walk out. Then he heard the bathroom sink running and he breathed out a sigh of relief. His heart was still hammering in his chest. He was so not fine.

You realised something was wrong as soon as you got back to his room and closed the door behind you.

“Did you think I was just going to leave you?” you asked gently as you walked back over to him, carding your hand through his still wet hair. He grimaced. Did you also somehow learn to read his goddamn mind. Absentmindedly, he raised his head but he immediately knew he was fucked when he met your eyes, all big and soft and comforting. All the frustration bubbled over and a fat tear rolled down his cheek.

Your eyes widened and you brought your other hand to cup his cheeks and then he started crying properly.

“It hurt so bad during the performance when the bandage came off,” he mumbled, wincing when you pulled away from him.

“Shh, it’s okay, keep talking, I’ll just get the bed ready, okay?” you said with a soft kiss to the crown of his head. So he did, he kept talking as he watched you move around the room, drawing the blinds and turning off the big light and getting water from the mini fridge.

“It felt like someone was stabbing a knife into it and it made me so paranoid, like what if I was making it irreparably worse, you know. But that’s not even the worst part. I didn’t want anyone to know I was injured because I know how they get and …”

He squeezed his eyes shut. A quiet whisper of his name ripped him from his thoughts and he turned around to where you had slid into bed, patting the spot next to you. He obeyed wordlessly, crawling into the soft sheets and scooting closer into your warmth. He looked into your eyes for a second, but then threw his arm around your waist dipped his head down until it was resting in the crook of your neck. It was easier to talk like this, when he didn’t have the chance to see and overthink every one of your reactions.

“I just feel like I’ve constantly been … broken. Good for nothing,” he mumbled and his eyes started burning again. A silent tear rolled from his eyes and into the material of your shirt. One of your hands started soothingly rubbing up and down his back.

“Like, first, it was the whole thing at the VMAs, then that car accident, and now … this. And this one was all my fault as well …”

He trailed off, the hand that had been resting on your shirt slowly balling into a fist.

“And then everyone keeps telling me I seem cold – I just … I can’t do anything right,” his chest tightened and he tried to hold back a sob, but when he said the next words, his voice broke pathetically. “And my wrist really fucking hurts.”

You didn’t say anything, just brought your arms around him to cradle him into your chest and he … let go. Let go of all of the shitty feelings he had been bottling up for the last days in order to get through the performances. He still tried to hold back his sobs, but there was no holding back the tears.

After what felt like forever, his eyes finally dried up. His face felt hot and simultaneously dry and sticky from where he had been burying in the material of your shirt for so long. He wanted to pull back, to wipe the his eyes but … he probably looked like shit. A lot worse than you had ever seen him look. But his neck was aching and his cheek was wet and …

When he lifted his head he met your eyes and you were smiling at him softly, but not pityingly.

“Do you want me to get you some painkillers?” you asked gently and it took him a few seconds to process your question, the natural follow up to the last thing he said before his tears had started overflowing. This was an easy question, he could do this. He nodded. You smiled at him again and threw back the covers to leave. A primal kind of panic ripped through Minho and before he could control himself he had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against him with a whine. He buried his burning face in your shoulder, too embarrassed to look at you but too needy to let go.

Your whole chest shook as you chuckled.

“I just need to go to your dresser and get them, baby,” you whispered with a sweet kiss to his hair, “I’ll be back in two seconds.”

Minho pulled back only enough to pout up at you. Your eyes softened even further, something he hadn’t thought was possible. You caressed his cheek softly and he felt like if he was a cat, he would’ve started purring.

“You can count. Count to three and I’ll be back, yeah?” you chuckled and slowly extricated yourself from his arms. He leaned back and watched as you sat up, the material of your sleep shirt riding up to expose the soft skin of your waist. He shivered at the absence of your warmth.

He briefly considered just counting very fast, but he the thought of the kind of bickering that would lead to was enough to make his bones ache with tiredness.

So he counted. One. You got up and walked to the dresser. Two. You opened the top drawer and rooted around until you found the painkillers. Three. You skipped back the bed in a hurry and dove under the covers with a giggle.

“See?” you said breathlessly, triumphantly, eyes sparkling in the dim light as you gave him a giddy smile, and he couldn’t help the matching one pulling at his own lips. You held the medicine out to him.

“Take one and we can cuddle.”

He didn’t even nod, just took one of the pills and washed it down with water. When he turned back, you opened your arms for him and he slid back into your warm embrace, his head coming to rest on your chest. Usually he was the one cuddling you and he wondered if this is how you always felt. So safe and sheltered and … happy.

Your hand returned to his his head, tangling into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. The other was rubbing up and down the arm he had slung over your waist.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it,” you started and he stiffened slightly. Truth be told he didn’t know what he wanted, but the thought of the outside world made him bury himself deeper into the comforting warmth of your body.

“But I want to say: I think you’re being very hard on yourself, much harder than you would be on anyone else.”

You were probably right.

“Like, if Jisung or Jeongin were in your position, would you say they could never do anything right? Would you tell them it was their fault?”

Minho scoffed, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt, finding the soft warmth of your skin. His eyes were growing heavy, exhaustion pulling at his bones.

“Of course not, these things just happen,” he mumbled and then sighed. Fuck, you were right.

You just hummed, but didn’t say anything else, dragging your fingertips through his hair and tangling your legs with his.

Minho listened to your heartbeat until it evened out and only then did he pull back enough to look into your eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered and you gave him another sweet smile, rubbing your nose against his gently. He tipped his chin forward and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you gently, reverently, gratefully.

“Always.”

Minho kissed your lips again before he tucked his head back into your neck.

His eyes fluttered shut and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[sunflowersinheaven]

another wip, that i wont be able to finish for a while

[sfsolstice]

Carl Phillips, from "Everything All of It," in Then The War

[messy-crisantemo]

Happy Halloween everyone!!

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ahollowgrave]

i have also been toying with bringing a D&D character, Viatrix, into FFXIV for fun and profit (more fun). This is a rough draft of her normal form, but I like it an awful lot!!

This is just a bonus shot I liked:

[masterwords]

Thomas Gibson in Ibsen's Ghost (via Instagram)

[centrally-unplanned]

(Remember, you can think multiple are a cause, we are just asking you choose the biggest cause if you had to. And be charitable, if your true guess is ~75% the same as one of the answers, choose that answer instead of "other")

[pearfight]

Zak Brown said the goal for McLaren is to have 2 Number One Drivers and turned to Nico and was like “just like you and Hamilton!”

[answer2jeff]

i was just thinking about dad!carmy missing his wifey when she's on a girls trip for the first time since their daughters birth and anxiously waiting for her to call him...

valeria has just been put to sleep after a seemingly endless hour and a half of rocking, soothing, and shushing.

"relax baby, mommy's gonna be home before you know it," carmy says, kissing the top of valeria's head and wincing a bit when her little fist tightens around his thick index finger. "yes i know," he sighs as she lets out one last wail of 'mama' followed by incoherent babbles before her body begins to relax at the sound of her daddy's soothing hums. no one is exactly sure where the song came from. maybe it's a pre-existing song further expanded on with different notes. maybe it's a whole new song with a lack of words he made just for his little girl.

carmen's back is sore and his hands mourn the weight of his precious girl in his arms, even if he's more than happy that she's finally at peace in her crib. the reality of his temporary loneliness really sets in the moment he closes the door to his daughters nursery.

he tries to distract himself from the sight of your nearly empty home. he's been wiping down the perfectly spotless kitchen counter with a microfiber towel for the last 3 and a half minutes while he scrolls aimlessly through your Instagram with his free hand, smiling to himself with every photo of you glistening in the summer heat. a margarita in one hand, a friends shoulder in the other. he's always thought you're the most beautiful when you're happy. with the sand in between your toes, salt water frizzing up your hair, the sun caressing the spots of your skin he wished he was the one to hold and kiss—seeing you free warms something in him.

meanwhile, you're falling onto your back and feeling the silky cold fabric of your hotel room bed against your skin. the bikini you've had on for hours is still a little damp from the ocean. it makes you shiver. you giggle at your 2 friends who pile into your shared bathroom, ready to puke and laugh and cry at their sickness from alcohol. you decide that you should kill some time before it's your turn to shower and boil yourself in delicious hot water. the balcony calls your name, and you quickly grab your phone from your beach bag, getting up to slide the glass door open to your left. the air feels warm and sweet against your sunkissed skin. your bare feet patter against the concrete foundation before you lean against the railing. you don't even bother to check anyone else's attempts at communication with you today. carmen is the only thing on your mind.

carmen nearly jumps at the sound of his cellphone vibrating against the bathroom sink. he quickly spits the minty toothpaste out of his mouth and accepts your call, raising it to his ear and wiping the corner of his lip.

"hey, baby," he breaths into the line, smiling almost uncontrollably as he drops his toothbrush back in the mug. the absence of yours with that pink little clip that covers the bristles is so disheartening. it's kinda silly, the way he frowns at the missing pieces of you all around your house.

"hi!" you chew on your bottom lip. it's like you're hearing his voice for the first time again. the petname sends butterflies swarming through your stomach. hell, even with a ring on your finger, it feels like you'd just met yesterday. the sound, smell, and feeling of him could never get old.

carmen yawns, leaning back on the bed and feeling his stomach drop when the little dip in the memory foam mattress has completely raised up to its original form. god, he misses the weight of your presence. but he tries to keep it cool.

"i was just thinkin' about you. well, i've been thinking about you this whole weekend," he laughs, running his hands through his sweatlogged curls. "glad you called."

"i know," you whine, "me too. missing you both, actually." your head feels fuzzy when carmen's little huff of agreement hits your ears. for a moment, his calm attitude surprises you. but maybe it shouldn't. he insisted you should go on this 2 day trip, swearing up and down he could handle being with valeria for a little over 48 hours.

"missing you so much more."

you didn't doubt his ability to keep his temper down and his self-discipline up when taking care of her, but you almost felt a little guilty.

"how are things?" you anxiously ask. carmen goes to answer dishonestly, but you quickly clarify. "and before you tell me, i know things have probably been kinda crazy. but oh my god, carmy, thank you for letting me do this. really, i mean—"

"what?" he cuts you off with a chuckle. "letting you? baby, you—you needed it. fuck, you earned it." carmen sits up in disbelief. it pains him knowing he can't fill in the much needed space of valeria's mother, but the guilt of ever daring to ask you to fly back home would kill him even faster. all he wanted was for you to be happy. even if that required sacrifice. especially since he knew deep down you did that for him every single day, even if you didn't notice it.

"mhm."

"i'm so glad you're having fun. things have been hectic, but i'm managing, okay? valeria has just been..." carmen pauses, gnawing at the inside of his cheek and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words.

you relax a bit, letting out a deep sigh of relief. but the anxiety still eats at you. the feeling of your bikini strings digging into your skin and the sand on your inner thighs forming what would soon become a rash if you didn't shower soon certainly wasn't helping with your situation.

"...tough recently. that's all. nothing for you to worry about."

"i know, i know. i just—i don't know. i feel bad. like, my mom instincts are screaming 'go home and take care of your daughter like a proper mother you sick, sick woman! you're not a teenager anymore! god, your poor husband is taking time off of his career too! not just you,' y'know?"

the attempt of trying to make some light out of your guilt just comes out awfully sad. carmen sighs, wishing he could just envelop you in his arms right then and there and drag you back into bed, kissing and squeezing and softly biting your neck and shoulders. but his needs can be dealt with when you get back. this, your sanity and your happiness, is far more important.

"try not to even think about it like that, sweet girl. just enjoy yourself. promise me you'll do that? not just for me, but for you?"

you nod, humming in agreement and sitting down on the cheap plastic chair on the balcony. you knew he was right. carmen spends next few minutes whispering over and over again how wonderful of a person, wife, and mother you are. he assures you that this is right and that it's good for you. oh, how he wishes he could take every worry that ails you and toss it away. or even carry it on his own shoulders if he absolutely had to.

"call me when you get to the airport on monday, okay?"

"okay, i will. i'll text you as soon as i take off and as soon as i land. promise."

"alright, thank you. g'night, baby. get some sleep so you can have even more fun tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah. okay. gotcha."

"i love you."

"i love you, carmy."

"so much," he breaths.

"so much," you reply.

taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Outbreak Pt 3 (LU in Healthcare)

(Content warning, this is a plague fic, it will likely hit close to home, and there’s dark humor and character death in this part)

It started off as a whisper, but the whisper became a chatter, a groan, constant and disturbing and growing ever closer.

Cases were on the rise in the city, though the surrounding area seemed unaffected still, for now. City officials were growing concerned, and restrictions were starting to be enacted. People were asked to stay home, if possible. As for the hospital and squads…

Hyrule squinted at his email. "Wait. Didn't... didn't they say we could use alcohol wipes to clean the equipment?"

"Yeah," Mo called from the kitchenette in the station.

"Now it says we can only use bleach wipes."

Mo groaned. "Isn't that like the third policy change this week?"

"I'm still trying to figure out if we're doing a specific isolation truck or not anymore," Aurora mumbled. "Like we just had one truck dedicated to the high risk iso cases, and now we're getting so many calls for it that it's a moot point anyway."

"I think the last email said put plastic over everything for Arfy patients and then wipe everything down that you use," Mo replied.

"Wait, which email?"

Hyrule sighed. This was getting ridiculous. And he was getting just a little nervous. “When in doubt, just bleach everything, I guess.”

Aurora huffed. “Did you see the email about the respirators?”

“Which email?” Mo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got twenty new emails!”

“I suppose that means you’ll actually have to read them now,” Aurora noted with a snort.

“Do you all think it’ll get worse before it gets better?” Dawn asked, wringing her hands worriedly. “The OMD made it sound like that would be the case.”

“Our medical director knows more than I do,” Hyrule shrugged. “If he says it’s going to get worse—”

“No, he didn’t just say that, he said ‘it’s not a matter of if the wave hits us, but when,’” Aurora quoted, standing. “He scared the hell out of Dawn.”

“They’re pretty foreboding words,” Hyrule commented darkly, looking away. It was the main reason he was getting nervous. But he was also steeling himself. If they were in for a fight, he would face it head on.

“Okay, but what does any of this have to do with the email about the respirators?” Mo asked as he scrolled frantically through his email.

“Oh, we’re supposed to wear N95s now,” Aurora answered with a wave of her hand.

Hyrule blinked. “Wait. Aren’t—aren’t we supposed to get fit tested for those?”

“Oh, yeah,” Aurora nodded, rolling her eyes. “Here’s your official fit test: pick a mask that fits.”

“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” Dawn questioned worriedly, hugging herself.

“Nobody’s died from Arfy yet, I don’t think,” Mo noted. “At least not here.”

“People have died,” Aurora corrected.

“Well, maybe we’ll die, then,” Mo amended.

Hyrule laughed while Aurora swatted his partner. Well… at least they’d die fighting. But he really hoped it wouldn’t get to that point.

While the rescue squads struggled to keep up with policies and slapped shoddy safety regulations into place, the hospital clamped down even further. Visitor policies had officially been revoked as of today, and it made all the providers somewhat uneasy.

In some aspects, it was helpful. In others, it made things that much harder.

Arfy patients were medical patients. Which meant the medical floor and ICU was quickly filling up while other parts of the hospital either maintained their quota or decreased as people stayed home. More and more, Four found himself floating to his friend’s ICU, and he felt fairly out of his depths about it. The one good thing was that he got to spend time with Dot. But as cases rose, so did the stress, the worry, and the heartache.

The ICU felt less like a unit where critically ill people got better and more like a place to go to die.

Four and Dot had the same patient assignment for four days in a row. It was the same assignment because nothing had changed with the patients. Intubated, sedated, paralyzed, some proned. The amount of sedation required to keep their patients under was far more than Four was used to, and it was insane how little it would take for their oxygen saturation to drop. Any semblance of activity in the body increased oxygen demand, and the instant oxygen demand increased, no amount of intervention from the ventilator seemed to help. ECMO was a word Four had hardly heard in his trauma ICU, but he heard it on a near daily basis now, being considered at rounds, being initiated with someone else’s patient.

Four was exhausted. His face was breaking out from wearing a respirator for twelve hours at a time. His feet and knees and hips hurt from standing in isolation rooms for three to four hours at a time trying to cluster all his care. And now, with the visitor restriction enacted…

Visitors were hit or miss, particularly in Four’s world. Trauma precipitated drama, and while family could be infinitely helpful and supportive, he’d also seen things go awry, had to deescalate fights or call security. In some aspects, he was thankful there were no visitors while all of this was happening; he was tired of having to explain that yes, you have to wear this gown and gloves and mask, no you can’t kiss your loved one while they’re intubated and sedated with a contagious disease… but still. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was on the family - the patients were sedated to the point that they shouldn’t be aware of anything, but the family had to agonize over the matter at home.

He didn’t like it. He understand the logic. But he didn’t like it.

And so here he sat, holding a patient’s hand while they withdrew care. Here he sat, being the only witness to someone’s last breaths while their family mourned from afar.

Four watched the heart rate steadily drop. He watched the oxygen saturation plummet. He muted the red alarms as the monitor screamed that his patient was dying, that something should be done, like an accusation and call to arms when Four knew this particular fight was over.

He wasn’t a particularly religious person, but he said a prayer for the patient and the family either way. He found himself praying a lot these days, honestly.

While the visitor policy took its toll inside the frame of work, the restrictions both inside and outside the hospital were causing further stress on everyone. Warriors had basically banned Wind from seeing him, opting to stay with Time and Malon instead, leaving the kid in the apartment. He brought food deliveries to the door, asked if Wind needed anything, but he always did so when Wind wasn’t awake - the teenager had swore up and down that if anybody got Arfy he’d take care of them, and Warriors was terrified of that promise as it was basically a threat. Time agreed that Wind didn’t need to get involved, much to the teenager’s chagrin, and Wind found himself already struggling from the loneliness and the frustration of trying to study for classes online when nobody knew what they were doing or how long this would last.

Meanwhile, Wild sat in his room, fingers aimlessly tracing over each other, the smell of bleach so fresh in his nose from scrubbing everything relentlessly for hours on end that he might as well have inhaled a bottle of it. His chest hurt. Not to mention that new disinfectant they were told to use made him cough a lot.

And he worried. Because… it had been a few days since he’d seen his father. Legend had given him updates through his sister (and made Wild swear not to tell anyone about her), and it had sounded like he was improving as expected. But now, he… the rest of the family…

It felt like a blessing and a curse. It was a guarantee that Wild couldn’t run into his mother or sister by accident, but it was also a situation that his mind screamed that he address.

He couldn’t just… he couldn’t just leave his father isolated and alone recovering in the hospital in the midst of an outbreak. He couldn’t.

But what if visiting him made things so much worse? What if it stressed his father’s recovering heart? What if it triggered more traumatic memories for Wild? He was terrified of getting anywhere near the man while he was awake, but his heart screamed that he go to him.

Wild refused to be a coward. And he refused to be heartless, despite how anxious this entire situation made him, despite how his mind screamed he keep away. So that night, when he got on to work, he took a delivery to the cardiovascular ICU and paused in front of a doorway, looking hopefully for a familiar nurse.

“Link? Wild?”

Jumping, Wild turned around to see the nurse in question, watching him scrutinously. She smiled (or at least, he assumed she did, based on how her eye crinkled above her mask) in recognition. “I thought it was you. You here to see your dad?”

Wild swallowed and nodded.

“Good, because the drama I’ve been trying to avoid has been driving me insane,” Legend’s sister said lightheartedly, but despite the casualness of her tone, the words sank into Wild’s stomach like a stone.

“Drama?” He questioned quietly.

“Nothing like… bad, I suppose, but still,” the nurse explained. “I’d be in there taking care of him and overhear him talking to his wife and he’d mention that he swore he saw you. I’m not entirely sure she’s convinced. She seems hopeful, though. But I figured it was best not to bring it up myself since I, ah, don’t know what’s going on.”

Wild felt his blood freeze. His father remembered? And he’d told his mother?

Great. This was… this was just great.

“Go see him,” Legend’s sister prompted gently. “I can tell he loves you very much and just wants to know you’re ok.”

Wild’s eyes unexpectedly burned with tears in an instant, and he was grateful he was wearing a mask to hide his expression. He nodded, hesitantly making his way towards the room.

It all seemed so normal, seeing his father sitting in a recliner looking at his phone. Wild wasn’t even entirely sure he’d recovered memories of his father like that, but somehow it seemed familiar. Abel hadn’t noticed him yet, engrossed in whatever he was looking at, brow slightly furrowed. That expression drew memories, a familiar scrutiny that he would often give Wild himself or his sister, a quiet concern and sternness that made Wild want to stiffen up and simultaneously run to him.

Damn it all, he’d missed him.

Wild swallowed his fears and stepped forward, hoping that this wouldn’t be a disaster. He knocked on the door, initially so quietly that his father didn’t hear him over the chatter of the news on the television. He knocked again.

His father looked up. Stared a moment. Went a shade paler.

Wild hastily stepped forward. “W-wait, don’t get worked up—”

His father stood, seeming mostly steady on his feet, and tried to walk to him, heedless of the cords and oxygen tubing attached, and Wild hastily met him part of the way before he ripped everything out of the wall. Abel immediately pulled him to his chest in the tightest hug Wild had ever felt, and…

And Link sank into the embrace, crying.

[suosgirl]

Hello! I just gotta tell you how much I loved your "Shishtoren's princess" ☺️💖 it had me giggling and kicking my feet, I swear 🤭

I hope you don't mind me requesting a much needed suo (plus any other chatacter if u want) x reader who's always tired (totally not self endulgent 🤡).

Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to 😊

- 🐮 anon

Sleep is for the Weak (is it though?)

Word Count: 544

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x f!reader

୨ৎ Warnings: fluff (sickening fluff, like tooth-rotting fluff)

୨ৎ Note: The way that I felt so seen with this request HAHA and thank you so much for the sweetest words!! I work 2 jobs and literally I always feel like there’s never enough time in the day nor enough time to sleep so I am perpetually tired all the time. I run on iced coffee and a dream (and nicotine) haha…ha. But I really loved writing this ahhhh it was incredibly self-indulgent on my end as well!!! Thank you for the fun request my 🐮 lovebug anon!!! ♡

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

♡ Suo’s an observant guy – within just hanging out with eachother a handful of times, he already noticed the little yawns that you cover your hand with or the sudden bursts of blinking that you do when you find yourself nodding off.

♡ The first time he notices it, he thinks that maybe you’ve just had a restless night … but then he sees you a couple days later and he’s seeing it again.

♡ Now he’s noticing it every time you guys are together (and even when you’re not).

♡ Sometimes you’ll be texting and it’ll go silent on your end for at least 30 minutes to an hour or two – and then he’ll get a little ping from his phone and it’s you apologizing and saying that you just woke up from a nap.

♡ He won’t admit that he thinks it’s cute and turns it on you instead.

♡ “I guess I’m not interesting enough to keep you awake :(“

♡ And then the teasing transcends from text to in-person.

♡ He sees you try to hide your little yawn by turning your face into your shoulder and he’s going in.

♡ “Oh? Is it nap time?”

♡ “Was that a yawn, my sleepy girl?”

♡ His favorite thing about teasing you while you’re tired is that you simply don’t have enough energy to banter back with him – all you can do is pout and slowly blink at him (you’re angry in lowercase).

♡ He hates that he’s weak for it.

♡ “Don’t be silly, lay on my shoulder.”

♡ For as much as he teases you though, he’s just as thoughtful.

♡ If you both are out with everyone, he’s already set a curfew in mind for when you both should leave so that you can rest.

♡ “Are you ready to leave, sleepyhead?”

♡ Absolutely loves tucking you in – it’s so domestic and sickeningly sweet but sometimes you’ll mutter a soft “thank you” and it has his heart beating just a tad faster.

♡ Bonus points: pull on his sleeve when he’s about to leave and he’s smitten.

♡ “Ah, well if you insist, love.”

♡ “Come on – scoot over, sleepy girl.” 

♡ If you enjoy drinking coffee, he likes that too.

♡ There’s just something about looking down and seeing his cup of tea next to your coffee – like coffee is just so you and tea is just so him. 

♡ When you lay your head in his lap, he melts at the sight. Sometimes he’ll just appreciate your beauty while you doze off. 

♡ He listens to your soft breathing and runs his hands through your hair. If he’s in the mood, will let his eyes close alongside yours.

♡ Anytime you have plans together, always asks if you’re up for it. If you’re just too tired – that’s okay! 

♡ He would never want you to push your body or force yourself to do something that you don’t have the energy for – simply just pats your head and asks what you’d like to do instead.

♡ Despite what you would think, doesn’t get mad at all that you fall into fits of sleep when you’re around him – because he gets to make sure that you’re resting.

[hee-blee-art]

updated cross & halter designs ♡ crosswalk yuri

[ID: two drawing pages of a white silhouette character based on the walk sign and an orange hand objecthead character based on the don't walk sign. the latter is taller and bigger than the former. they are shown walking side by side, nuzzling, sitting together, laid out on the ground, and with their arms around each other. end ID]

[smimon]

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