#That's probably not what it's gonna be but I can dream

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

0v0 Leona brainrot may I request a thing on Leona x reader where reader is mute from family trauma 0v0 (note love your stuff you feed my brain rot everyday also if you) also can you make it that in the story we have Reader think Grim is now our Son/or we see little brother and we talk to only him but then as per Leona x reader we talk to Leona at some point

Arm still hurts, but I put on a brace, so LET'S GO (don't follow my example)

Thank you for the Request! Leona has consumed my thoughts as well.

Synopsis: Reader with selective mutism slowly grows fond of the cold lion.

TW: mentions of reader having a bad family life; reader has selective mutism; reader is initially scared of Leona

Selective mutism can be caused by a variety of factors such as an anxiety disorder, self-esteem issues, speech problems, and etc.. Yours stemmed from. . . poor family relationships, to put it delicately.

Coming to Twisted Wonderland was like both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because you made it out

A curse because, well, YOU WERE TOSSED INTO ANOTHER WORLD WITH NO TIME TO PROCESS. So, of course, your anxiety levels spiked.

It took you a bit to figure out how to explain to Crowley that you struggled with selective mutism, and even when you did, he took it as you trying to say you were entirely mute. You supposed you could live with that. It would definitely help quell the intrusive questions and ignorant statement if not just by a bit.

It took a while, but you managed to get comfortable enough around Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts to talk. You had grown to see them as the family you never had. A family you chose.

You weren't sure whether to classify Grim as a younger brother or a son, but you figured that wasn't all that important of a distinction for you to make. He's your family and that's what counts.

When you did finally talk for the first time around this little group they were certainly shocked, Grim more so than the ghosts. However, they were patient and allowed you the time and space to explain (even if that was because the ghosts held Grim's mouth shut).

In the end, you all decided it was probably best that you keep the reality of your muteness a secret as people knowing could cause problems (and just be annoying for those too ignorant to understand or too curious to understand personal space).

When you first met Leona, it was when you stepped on his tail in the botanical garden. You bowed profusely as a way of saying sorry, but he either didn't get it or didn't care.

"D*mn Herbivore." He growled. "You think you can just step on my tail and get away with it? Not even gonna properly apologize for waking me with your foot digging into my tail?"

Clearly, he had not been paying attention at orientation. You were never too great with confrontation, quite frankly, it scared you, so you ran. You could hear his angry shouts from behind you as you booked it out of there, but you paid no mind to his words (not that you could even hear them with the blood pumping so violently in your ears from the adrenaline).

The next time you met him, like truly met and talked to him, was after the spelldrive game when you got nailed in the head with the disk.

When the unusual group of Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, Leona, and Grim came into the infirmary you were understandably wary. Afterall, Leona hadn't exactly made a stellar first impression.

However, your opinion shifted a bit when a little ball of energy and pure joy came bursting into the room to meet Leona. You had felt some sympathy for him after seeing his dream, you didn't have the best family life either, but you also weren't a massive jerk. A hint of worry grew in your stomach when you saw the small lion jump on Leona's bed and bounce on his stomach, but you froze when you saw the man's reaction.

He may have seemed harsh to most with the way he treated and talked to the child, but you could tell he was anything but. The way his eyes softened ever so slightly and his muscles relaxed. And, if you didn't know any better, you would've sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards just a bit.

The way someone treats their family can tell you a lot. The way Leona treated Cheka told you a lot.

You turned your attention away from Leona to sign something to Deuce (he learned a bit of sign language from his mom).

Leona would have cursed had Cheka not been right there. Great. Now he felt like an *ss.

Perhaps that guilt is what led him to so easily letting you stay in Savanaclaw during book 3.

He led you up to his room and told you how to fold out the couch (it was a futon). However, other than that, he didn't say much.

The only word you heard him speak the first night was a brief "sorry". He didn't elaborate on it, but you were fairly sure you knew what he was apologizing for.

At some point, you had made a habit of lightly tugging on your friends' sleeve when you needed their attention. Out of habit, you accidentally did this to Leona once. You didn't even notice until you saw the other Savanaclaw students' horrified faces. You whipped around to apologize to Leona, but he looked entirely unbothered.

"What'd ya need?"

On the last night when you needed to get Leona's help, you didn't exactly have the option of yelling, and banging pots and pans didn't exactly cross your mind. At that moment, you were just so tired and so stressed that all you did was silently tear up.

When he noticed your crying he momentarily froze. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he just stared at you.

You really had a knack for making Leona feel scummy.

Before he knew it, he was getting up and trudging across the room.

You flinched.

Leona mentally bashed his head into a wall repeatedly.

"I'll help. . .just. . .cut it out with the water works." He handed you a tissue box and that was that.

You grew steadily closer over time, but he didn't hear your voice until around the end of book 6.

You had gotten back from STYX and your dorm was still in shambles, so you were left to stay at Savanaclaw. Other dorms were going to offer, but before they could even open their mouths, Leona sighed dramatically loud and announced that he guessed you'd have to stay at Savanaclaw sing you had absolutely no other options.

You trudged into his room together and watched as Grim immediately conked out on a plush chair next to the couch.

Leona was about to collapse on the bed (he was too tired to shower or even change clothes) when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso and a wet spot forming on his chest as your tears soaked through his shirt.

He was not cut out for these kinds of situations.

Despite this thought, he soon sighed and wrapped his arms around your back as well. The two of you stood there like that for what felt like an eternity before the silence was finally broken.

And not by him.

"I-I'm so glad you're safe." Your voice was hoarse from lack of use, and your words were hard to decipher as they came out as more of choked sobs.

A million questions ran through Leona's mind at that moment, but none of them left his lips. Instead, he simply replied: "Yeah. . .'m glad you are too."

His questions could wait until tomorrow.

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[thedemonscrawler]

ITS BEEN 84 YEARS BUT HEY FINAL PART

There is no gradual change from isn't to is. 

No slow return to awareness, an impossible dream flaking away like dust in the face of reality– just being, and the fading horror that a moment ago, he wasn't. 

“--thought you said he wasn't in bad shape?!”

“I said he was in bad shape, he just wasn't dying! Look, just shut up and grab–”

Everything hurts.

He's damaged, processor struggling under the weight of countless errors, threatening to tip him over into a much more tangible state of unresponsiveness. There's a high keening sound that vibrates in his battered chest, resonates with his burning throat.

“--you got the–”

“--es, now move, before–”

Voices. An echo playing against itself, back and forth. Twins, perhaps? But none of the twins he knows sound alike, not like this, and it muddles his understanding even further.

Hands force themselves under his broken body, scraping against the cold surface underneath, and–

–and this already happened, didn’t it? How did it turn out the first time? 

He can’t remember. Everything hurts, and there’s a dark, sucking hole where his memory should be, oozing unease and tension. The keening cuts off, replaced by a staccato burst of static. He should twist away, he should escape, except his limbs won’t cooperate and his chest is full of smothering heat and–

-and there are arms around him. Holding him close to a chest in shades of light and dark. Something brushes the fractured remains of his rays, and from the shape of it, he thinks it might be another disk-shaped head tucking over his own.

Quiet muttering, and he stills just to be able to hear it better, because he’s certain there was something novel in that rasping voice. Following the sounds up and down, until a few resolve themselves into words.

“‘m sorry.” 

The hands holding him tighten their grip ever so slightly, because I’m sorry and you’re safe this time and I promise. Concepts that flit through his shattered mind, leaving impressions more than meaning… yet gradually, the tension eases from his frame, bleeding away drop by drop.

He remembers safety, and warmth. The sting of betrayal fades under awkward apologies, leaving behind no more than a dull ache. He cannot remember what happened, but he knows that he was somewhere else, and this hold means that he was found. Brought home.

Home?

Jarring movements cease. Behind a haze of overexposed static he is aware of movement, shadows and sounds. Something touches his arm, the fragmented casing barely registering the pressure. 

“Hey there, buddy. You remember me, right?”

A person, probably; casing split between light and dark, a crest of pale rays. He cannot tell any more than that, and trying to look makes his head hurt worse.

“--’s okay. We're gonna fix you up, so just–” 

It hurts. Focusing, thinking, being. The arms cradling his body are keeping him safe, but they cannot keep the hurt at bay, and his meager energy is steadily depleting.

“--shutting down.”

“I mean, can you blame–”

Darkness and static stillness eat away at him. The temporary death visited upon a machine, systems going offline as they ran out of power, leaving the body at the complete mercy of whoever might deign to turn it back on. A risk he’s only rarely taken in his long life, yet this time there’s no choice in it.

Does he want to wake up? Does he want to be? 

The head tucked over his own presses closer, rasped words barely audible over his own systems. He misses most of them, but the sense of It’s okay sinks in past the static.

Safety. Warmth. 

Everything stops.

—

“We need to have a serious talk about what you consider ‘catastrophic damage’.” 

“Look, I’m a programmer, not an engineer.”

“No, you’re a mess built out of scavenged arcade machines. I think your judgment is a little skewed.”

Eclipse swipes at the oil-stained rag that impacts his crescent face, balling it up and tossing it back at Solar. It goes wide and hits the floor instead, prompting a snort from the other mech. 

“Judgment and depth perception. I’ve seen old ladies make better throws than that.”

Eclipse rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the frame laid out in the chair. The harsh light of the repair cylinder exposes every bit of damage, and as much as he hates to admit it, Solar might have a point. Still…

“I was right, though.” A black and crimson hand reaches out to gently rest on the shattered chest casing, feeling the slight vibration of repaired fans. 

And Solar just shakes his head, dim eyes flickering briefly. Mild humor laces his tired voice. “Yeah, you were right. Kinda wish you’d remembered anyway, though. Could have saved me a lot of stress.”

“You actually did it.”

The low, breathless voice has Eclipse looking over his shoulder, where Moon stands in the doorway to the cylinder. Unease prickles up and down Eclipse’s metal spine. 

It was fine, it wasn’t like they’d kept this a secret, they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I am a miracle worker, you know,” he replies with forced nonchalance. Moon doesn’t seem to hear him. All of the lunar animatronic’s attention is on the figure stretched out in the chair, and only when Eclipse steps forward to break his line of sight does he finally look up. 

“It’s too late to do anything about it,” adds Solar. Eclipse doesn’t miss the way Moon winces, how his gaze slides away like his best friend is made of butter. 

“I wasn’t–! I won’t…” Moon sighs and shakes his head. “The Computer picked up a massive spike in magic, so I was just checking to see how you guys were doing. That’s all. I didn’t expect you to be… done?”

“Well, he’s gotten the patch job, but I wouldn’t call things ‘done’.” Quite as if he doesn’t notice the thick, awkward atmosphere, Solar walks around the chair, to the cart loaded down with recently removed parts. “We focused on getting the essentials going, rather than anything cosmetic, so that’s why he still looks like a mess. As soon as his battery is charged enough we’re going to wake him up and see how he’s doing mentally.”

“You should stick around, say hello.” It’s petty, and rude, but Eclipse is too tired to fight off the impulse to sink nonfunctioning teeth into an obvious weakness. “He might not remember what happened.”

Moon stiffens at Eclipse’s tone, but a brief glance at the figure in the chair has his shoulders slumping. “No, that’s…that’s alright. I think I’ll head back upstairs and tell everyone that they should expect to see him around soon.” Deliberately not looking at any Eclipse, Moon turns on his heel. 

“Moon?”

The lunar animatronic freezes. One eye peeps back over his shoulder, just enough to look at Solar. “Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to face this eventually.” Solar’s voice is flat, with a rarely-heard edge that makes Moon flinch. Without another word he slinks off, shoulders bowed under Solar’s golden gaze.

Quiet fills the vacuum left behind by Moon’s departure, until Eclipse breaks it with an almost normal tone of voice. “You know, I thought I’d enjoy the drama a little more.”

Solar barks out a laugh. “Maybe you’re going through some character growth– or you’ve got a virus. Actually, nevermind, it’s probably that. I can scan you after we wake him up, if you want.”

There isn't another rag to throw, so Eclipse settles for making a Daycare-inappropriate gesture, which Solar returns with interest.

“Let's just get this over with, before anyone else shows up.” His usual drawl neatly covers up the uneasy feeling crawling through his circuits as Eclipse glances at the door, then down at the chair. It was beyond too late for questions or doubts–  the only thing left was to face the consequences. 

Solar flicks his fingers in a little salute and approaches the prone form. He does something around its head, and Eclipse finds himself holding his ‘breath’ as recently replaced fans start up, rattling in their housings and nearly covering the whine of a processor. Red and blue optics flicker before coming fully online, their dim glow pointed at the ceiling. 

The tangled knot of guilt and shame that had lived in his circuits for the past couple of months loosens, all at once. Without really thinking about it, he waves a crimson-tipped hand. “Hey.”

A long moment of silence, broken by uncertain chirps from Ruin’s barely functional vocalizer. “H-hello.”

“...alright, enough with the riveting banter.” Solar waves off Eclipse’s offended snarl, stepping up to the foot of the chair. Ruin regards him with the same blank uncertainty that he’d shown the ceiling, even when Solar offers a hand to pull him up to a more upright position. “There we go. Hey, you’re with us, right?”

More silence, and Eclipse can see the same worry beginning to creep through his wires reflected in Solar’s copper rays angling back. Before either of them can get too worked up, there’s another little static sound, and Ruin accepts the offered hand. 

“I– yes, I believe that I am.” His endoskeleton creaks as he moves, bits of casing joining what already litters the floor. “Or perhaps I’m not, and it is you who are with me? Because– and do correct me if I’m wrong– you’re dead, Solar.”

“Yeah, funny how that kind of thing doesn’t stick around here.” 

“I-I see.” Red and blue optics drop to skeletal hands. “Yes, I do remember now. Moon had a plan, of sorts, didn’t he? A life for a life.” Those hands clench into tight fists, joints squealing softly.

Eclipse’s own claws bite into his palms as the shame begins creeping up on him again. “Yeah.”

“There was a cell, and then there was a different cell, and that twisted imitation of an animatronic. And then…” the words break into more static, the rough idea of a laugh. “Moon got what he wanted. I don’t begrudge him, you know. It makes perfect sense. What does not, however, is this.” 

He looks up at Eclipse, bewildered and lost. “Why am I alive?”

Eclipse had been expecting the question, because it’s the same one he’d been asking himself for months. All through the search for a way to alter a dimensional signature, scouring the computers to find an imprint of Ruin’s code, dealing with awkward questions and cold looks from the others. 

Why go through the trouble of bringing back Ruin, of all people? Who would want to see the amalgamate AI alive again?

(The fleeting impression of trust, of safety found in undeserving arms. He was familiar with betrayal, but this time… this time it hadn’t been on purpose.)

Eclipse is the only one that can answer, in his own way. With a sneer and a snarl, golden rays pinning back.

“You brought me back from the dead. Twice, actually.” He crosses his arms and looks down at Ruin. “Do you really think I'd let you get out of dealing with all of this crap? Nuh-uh, nope– if I have to be alive, so do you.” 

Mismatched eyes flicker briefly, searching Eclipse’s fixed expression for something. Falsehood, a trick. When nothing is found, soft static chirps begin sounding from the damaged bot’s chest, resolving themselves into hiccuping sobs as Ruin drops his face into his hands. 

“Of– of course!” He forces out. “Of course, t-that…yes, t-that’s fair. That’s fair.”

Eclipse’s stiff pose loosens slightly, and after a warning glance at Solar to not say anything, he sits down on the edge of the chair. Immediately there are damaged arms wrapping around his torso, a shattered face pressed into his chest.

Eclipse ignores the thin scratches being carved into his paint, the few bits of loose casing falling away from a broken body. He rests his hand on Ruin’s back, moving it in tiny circles. If his voice is unusually quiet, threatening to crack in the middle, he ignores that, too. 

“You’re okay now. You’re home.”

Lil gift for @thedemonscrawler inspired by their sams fic Beggars Can't be Choosers (butters i'm dying /pos)

(Speedpaint under cut)

[sissylittlefeather]

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 4

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long! Work has been a STRUGGLE lately. But I managed to get this one out and I'm lowkey obsessed with it. I hope you love it!

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, this is definitely for adults only, there's lots of smut (blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie) but also DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. Elvis is not violent, but reader's husband is.

Word count: ~3k

It hangs there for a second like smoke before you whisper your response.

“I'm in love with you too.”

******

After the night at the Palomino Club, your life becomes a series of stolen hours with Elvis separated by the daunting reality of your life with Carl. You know Carl can't find out what you're up to, but you're so happy with Elvis that it's hard to care if he does. A fantasy of telling him and him letting you go easily consumes you every time you're forced to be around him. Still, the risk that he'd kill Elvis is still too great for you to take that chance. Instead, you sneak away as often as you can and spend your nights wrapped in satin sheets and Elvis's arms.

He doesn't go home to Priscilla, despite her constant begging and the Colonel’s insistence. They know he's probably messing around, it wouldn't be the first time, but they never dream he's in as deep as he is with you. And he is in deep. Every stolen night with you only pulls him deeper, the rest of the world fading into something distant and unimportant. He’s known love before, or at least he thought he had, but nothing has ever gripped him like this. Nothing has ever felt quite so undeniable.

A little over a month has gone by when Carl tells you that he has to go visit the bosses back East for the weekend. You're surprised he's not making you come with him, but he seems to have gotten over his suspicion. When it dawns on you that this means you'll have a whole weekend to spend with Elvis, you have to try to hide your excitement.

“I'll call to check on you every evening around 5. Make sure you're home.” If the right person said it, it might be sweet. But coming from Carl it sounds like a threat.

“I will be. It's not like I really have anywhere to go.” You're laying it on a little thick, but you want to make sure he doesn't suspect anything. In truth, your insides are positively buzzing with giddiness. He grunts and then kisses your cheek before disappearing through the door.

You wait an hour to make sure he's really gone before throwing some clothes and toiletries in a bag and heading over to Elvis's hotel. He doesn't know you have the whole weekend to spend with him, you wanted to surprise him, so you hope he'll be pleased.

When you get to his door, you knock and wait, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. He opens it and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Hey doll. Missed you.” He wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead as you melt against him. “What's in the bag?”

“My stuff.” You try to contain your excitement and fail miserably.

“Stuff for what?” He raises an eyebrow mischievously.

“Carl’s out of town. You mind if I stick around for the weekend?” You giggle as he brightens almost instantly and picks you up, spinning you around.

“A whole weekend?!” He laughs and carries you inside, kicking the door closed behind him. You giggle as he plops your feet on the floor and then takes your bag, tossing it to the side. Without any kind of warning, he wraps his arms around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal with delight as he takes you straight to the bedroom. The sound echoes off the walls and gets caught in the thick carpet while he drops you on the giant bed. He growls as he climbs up your body and presses himself against you. “We're gonna be in this bed for hours, little girl.”

You run your fingertips down the side of his face gently and kiss the end of his nose, whispering. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Something about the way you look at him makes a lump form in his throat and the thought that he wants you forever, just like this, is almost overwhelming. He carefully presses his lips to your cheek, and then the other one, your forehead, eyes, chin, and finally your lips. He'll never have enough of you, but he intends to try this weekend.

You revel in the feeling of his soft kisses on your face, your hand drifting up to the nape of his neck and tangling in his hair. What wouldn't you give to have him like this all the time: slow and gentle and so full of love that it feels like you might burst. His lips continue their journey down your jawline to your neck and he sucks on the skin there gently.

“I'm gonna leave a mark.” He says it playfully, nipping at you with his teeth.

“Fine by me. It'll be gone before Carl gets home anyway.” You moan as you feel him suck a little harder. Then, he pulls back to admire his handiwork.

“I'm glad you're okay with it because I definitely did.” He chuckles and kisses the spot softly, whispering. “Mine.”

“Yours.” He backs away and looks into your eyes.

“You mean it?” You nod, never breaking eye contact.

“Always.” And then his lips are on yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he rolls his hips against you. You whimper with the intensity of the kiss, your blood beginning to rush in your ears while your fingers make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He shrugs out of it, letting you throw it to the side as he runs both hands up your thighs under the hem of your dress. The cotton bunches around your waist before he sits you up and yanks it over your head, diving back in to kiss you deeply. You can feel his chest hair tickling you, the cold metal of his belt buckle on your tummy making you shiver. Your breath hitches when you feel his member where it strains against the fabric of his pants. He whimpers as you run your hand up his shaft and squeeze a little. You put your other hand in the middle of his chest and push gently. “Get on your back, baby.”

He looks at you a little surprised, but complies nonetheless, settling onto his back with you straddling his hips. You run your hands up his body and then lean forward, pressing your lips to his skin. He groans as you run your tongue around his nipple and then move to the other one, nibbling gently. Your fingertips roam over parts of him you've never noticed before: the indentions on his shoulders, the way his hips curve down into his pants, the little trail of hair that starts at his belly button and continues south to the part of him you really want to see. You lift yourself off of him and back up, undoing his pants and hooking your fingers into them to pull them off. He looks down at you with his mouth open a little, not used to being treated with such care. You kiss up his thigh to the top of the patch of hair between his legs, his cock bumping into your chin as it twitches.

“Fuck, honey.” Your hands move down his torso to his hips and then back around to his ass, squeezing softly. You kiss his inner thigh again and then look up at him, a cheeky little smile on your face.

“What?” You coo, moving over to the other thigh as your hands massage his ass cheeks.

“Nobody’s ever… fuck… why?” You move down and kiss his balls and he gasps.

“Because you deserve it.” He whimpers as you lick up his shaft. “You deserve to be worshipped, adored, revered.”

“No… I don't…” The words get caught in his throat and he looks at you with more vulnerability than he's ever shown another person. You sit up a little and look at him.

“Yes. You do. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” He lets out a sound somewhere between a strangled sob and a deep moan as you lean forward and take him fully into your mouth. The way you move up and down on him is more than sex, it's an act of devotion. His heart pounds in his chest and his fingers tangle in your hair, not as a show of dominance, but as a demonstration of his affection for you. He's never felt so connected to another person.

You lick and suck and pull him deep into your throat, pressing your nose into the hair at the base of him. Every ounce of love in your heart is evident in the way you take care of him, giving him more pleasure than he's ever experienced. He looks down at you, your eyelashes fanning over your cheeks as you close your eyes in reverence. It's an image he'll never forget.

“Love, I don't want to… finish… like this.” All of a sudden the other words seem so crude. He strokes your cheek lovingly as your eyes flutter open. “C'mere.”

You move back up his body and he lays you down next to him, holding the side of your neck as he looks at you. He carefully removes your bra and panties and drags his fingertips over your skin.

“The way I love you… it's so… much more, much deeper, than anything…” He shakes his head, trying to find the words. “I’ve been lost for my whole life. You found me and brought me home.”

He presses his lips to yours softly and pulls your leg over his hip, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I never wanna be anywhere else.”

You gasp as he pushes into you slowly, his hips rolling forward to meet yours. Words are unnecessary as he begins to pump into you, holding your hip to steady you. No phrase would be enough to convey the depth of your feelings for him, so instead you press your forehead to his and close your eyes while he makes love to you. You revel in the beautiful simplicity of being connected to him so intimately. Both of you get lost in the sensation, the reality of where he ends and you begin fading into a symphony of mutual being. You are the universe, complex and overwhelming and breathtaking all at once.

He pulls you even closer, holding on like he's afraid if he lets go you'll disappear into a dream. But it's not a dream. The two of you are real and as the pleasure builds between you, the sound of your breath mixes with skin against skin.

“Oh, God, Elvis.” You moan in his ear and he hums in agreement.

“Gonna cum soon, doll.” He says it almost regretfully because he doesn't want the moment to end. He'd hold you against him like this forever if he could.

“Me… too…” You sigh breathlessly as you dance on the edge of ecstasy.

And then you both reach the peak of your pleasure at the same time. Your body shudders and pulses as he twitches and releases deep inside you. When he finally lets go of you, you look up at him with tears in your eyes and he pulls your fingers to his lips, kissing them affectionately.

“You're the love of my life, Elvis.” You whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb and smiles.

“And you're mine.”

It should be a moment of pure contentment, but it's not. Reality hangs over both of you like a heavy cloud. There's a storm on the horizon, but for now you choose to ignore it. You'll worry about that tomorrow.

******

You spend the next hour or so in the bed just talking and laughing and touching each other in a way you've never been able to before. Then, you settle into a bath together where you make love again with the warm water making tiny waves that crest and break against your bodies. When you finally settle in to sleep, the sun is creeping up on the horizon, but you think nothing of it, knowing that you have all the time in the world tomorrow.

The next day is spent in a haze of bliss. You order room service and spend all day in bed, making love two more times.

Finally, it approaches 5pm and you know you have to run home to talk to Carl when he calls. At the door, Elvis kisses you deeply, trying to convince himself that you'll be back in about an hour. But there's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he just can't ignore. You feel it too, but you're convinced it's just nervousness about talking to Carl, so you make your way home without concern.

When you get home, you slide your key into the door and then freeze.

It's unlocked.

All of a sudden it feels like someone has filled your veins with ice water and you try to tell yourself that you just forgot to lock the door. But you didn't. For a second, you consider just leaving and going back to Elvis forever. You know that's impossible, though, so you prepare yourself to lie and push the door open.

Sure enough, there sits Carl. His gun is on the table and you try to get a handle on your heart that's beating like a rabbit’s. You decide to take the offensive and try to throw him off.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Chicago.” You try to say it with confidence, challenging him to contradict you.

“Got an interesting call from Marco.” Your heart stops. Of course he would have men watching you. But you're not ready to roll over just yet.

“Yeah? And? I went out with–”

“I called Holly. She's been in Los Angeles for a year now.” More ice in your veins. You try desperately to think of another person you could've been with, your heart racing and your head getting light. For a second you feel like you might pass out, so you grab the back of a chair and Carl stands up, walking to you to steady you.

And then he sees it.

There, on your neck, the hickey that Elvis left, confident that it would never be seen.

Carl doesn't hesitate. He backhands you across the face hard and you stumble backwards.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE. I KNEW IT.” He hits you again and you hit the floor. The blinding pain rushes through you from your cheek to the rest of your body and back again. You lay there still and pray he's finished.

But he's not.

He drags you up and slams you against the wall with his hand around your throat. You whimper and claw at his hand as he chokes you.

“WHO IS IT?!” But you wouldn't tell him even if you could get a word out. You'd rather die than give him reason to hurt Elvis. When you don't speak, he slams you up against the wall again. “Fucking bitch.”

He squeezes your throat even tighter and you start to see stars. Just as you think you're going to pass out, he carries you to the front door and drops you on the floor in the hallway. You try to stand up and he hits you one last time. That's all it takes for you to drop to the ground and not get back up.

******

You wake up to someone carrying you and immediately panic.

“Woah! Woah, shhh, honey, you're okay.” For a second you think it might be Elvis, so you stop struggling and open the eye that's not swollen shut. But it's not Elvis. It's Jerry.

“What’re you doing? Carl will kill you!” You wriggle and fight to get free, but he's stronger than you expected.

“Carl left you for dead. That's a risk I'm willing to take.” He carefully puts you in the front seat of a car and then runs around to the driver's side.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The hospital. I'm under strict orders to make sure you're okay.” You scoff and try to get out of the car, but he's already driving.

“I don't need a hospital.” He looks at you for a second and then just flips the visor down, opening the mirror for you to see yourself. You gasp at the image. Your eye is red and purple, the bruise spreading down your cheek, and there are dark marks around your neck where he choked you.

“If I take you to Elvis like this and don't stop at a hospital, he'll kill me before he kills Carl.” You shake your head, the image of Carl’s gun on the table floating in front of your good eye.

“Elvis can't see me like this.”

“You're not thinking clearly. Of course–”

“No. Jerry, you have to promise to take me home after the emergency room. If I'm not okay, you can tell Elvis, but if I am, he never needs to know about this. Got it?” Jerry purses his lips, obviously contemplating your request.

“Not sure I can do that.”

“Do you want Elvis to die? Is that what you want? Because that's what'll happen if you tell him.” He sighs deeply and runs his hand in his hair.

“Emergency room. If it's bad, I'm tellin’ him.”

“Deal.”

You ride in silence the rest of the way to the hospital. It takes a while for you to get back to an exam room and be looked at. A police officer takes Jerry, who says over and again that he didn't do this to you and he's not your boyfriend. He insists that he's just a friend who found you like this and is trying to do the right thing. Eventually, they decide that he must be telling the truth and let him come back to you. He walks in with a nurse who looks at him nervously.

“Miss. I have some… results…” You assume she must be talking about the concussion test they did and nod your head.

“Yeah? And?” She bites her lip and looks anxiously at Jerry again. You look over at him and back at her and your stomach turns over. “You can just say it. He's a friend.” She takes a steadying breath and nods. Then, she opens her mouth and utters a phrase that changes the course of your life forever.

“Did you know you're pregnant?”

******

Ahhhhhhh!!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222 @iloveelvis2

[red-hibiscus]

THE Lee Taemin held the flag I designed so here's a rant from a shawol of 14 years

I got into SHINee in 2011 when I was 13. They were my first kpop group and to this day they are my favorites. They've always stood out and will never be overtaken no matter how many kpop groups I listen to.

I had just barely missed the last SMtown concert in nyc and I never thought I'd be able to see any SHINee related concert (excluding whatever SuperM was). SM certainly wasn't going to give them a tour. So when Taemin announced a world tour it felt like a dream. When I managed to snag that ticket I was shaking.

I had started making flags for some artists a year and a half ago for onlyoneof's tour. Just as a silly "lmao what I give them a pride flag" then decided "fuck it I'm gonna design an onlyoneof pride flag." Then I did it for Lucy (my 2nd favorite k-music act) for two different cities. It's addicting seeing your creations be so well received by fans and artists alike. It's my little selfish fan moment of something I worked hard on be acknowledged and loved by them with the bonus of making other fans happy.

So of course I had to make Taemin a flag, and when I got the ok, I knew exactly what to do. I wanted to show his progression as an artist. So I had two silhouettes. One from Lucifer and one from Move. Lucifer (my 2nd ever kpop song after Hello) we all know is so influential. The choreo is iconic and it set the stage for more difficult choreo in kpop. The legendary practice video that had people dizzy while they stared at Taemin trying to learn it. I was there too. And Move... I mean come on. Kpop is different post Move. We know how viral Taemin went for move. How everyone was and still is absolutely shocked. The androgynous (relatively slow) difficult and sensual choreo that only Taemin can do. And the music as well!! I've seen several kpop artists try similar styles after that. So Lucifer and Move were the obvious choices.

Seeing people slowly fill up the flag while they signed it at the pre-show party was so fulfilling. All the people whose eyes lit up when they learned the flag was going to be given to him. The anxiety they got when they tried to think of what to write cause there's no going back and it's gonna be given to their idol. All the compliments I got on my design. It brings me so much happiness.

To be honest I was kind of stressed. The actual designing/drawing of the flag wasn't too bad, but getting it approved and the uncertainty that the flag would be brought out for picture time had me going crazy. But they did. He held it. Lee Taemin... Kpop jesus... The idol's idol held my flag. And he was smiling. He loved it. He looked so good. It's like it was destined to be in his hands.

After he got it I was shaking. It actually took a bit for me to process it was actually happening. And then I cried (for the 3rd time that concert except harder this time) all throughout Say Less. Probably gonna get emotional every time I hear that song now. Thanks Taemin.

I don't know what artists do with flags they get. Store them in a closet, toss them away, give them to their company, idk. For now all I know and care about is that it's safely with him and he knows it exists. Maybe he'll read some of the messages. Maybe he'll read the messages on the postcard we gave him and smile when he reads my message. I'll never know. If he's happy, I'm happy.

[a-friendly-fangirl]

"I Can't Hear It Now" is a CaitVi song (and I can prove it)

Ok, I know how this might sound, like I'm trying to make everything CaitVi related and I have no respect for Cait's loss and her feelings.

I promise though, that this might actually make sense... and if it does, then it's gonna be heartbreaking.

FIrst of all, I'd like to say that Freya Ridings' "I Can't Hear It Now" has been my favourite song since the very beginning of Arcane's second season, shattering my soul in enough pieces to make a challenging puzzle. The words and the way they're sung are heartfelt and moving, taking us through the kaleidoscope of feelings Cait experiences during her mother's funeral.

I'm a sucker for good music adding meaning to a show and its scenes and Arcane is exactly the kind of show that'd do that, so I've been eager to fully explore each song in the show's context, starting with this one.

When I first listened to it, I immediately thought that it was Caitlyn pleading Cassandra for guidance through her grief and her sense of guilt, because, as Cait herself admits, her mother left a huge hole in Piltover's political scene and in her own family and she has no clue as to how deal with it.

"Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning" seemed to me as something one would ask to their parent, were they a person with an important political role, having to constantly keep up appearances. Caitlyn, young and in mourning as she is after her mother's death, is also left alone to face publicly the loss, because her father is clearly in no condition to do that and she doesn't know what she's supposed to do to be a good replacement for both of her parents. I think everyone would understand, if she were to pray her deceased mother for help.

With time, though, I started rethinking my whole interpretation, because a few elements seemed off. Two are the ones that matter the most:

To be a song about a Piltovan dealing with grief by conversing with her lost one, it would've been weirdly spiritual. Although I don't know much about the city's lore, a quick research clarified that Piltover doesn't seem to have an official religion or religious belief and, in my experience, talking to a deceased person and asking them for guidance is something deeply rooted in spirituality and religion. Of course, when mourning everyone can talk to their lost ones as a form of coping mechanism, but in the song it is explicitly stated that the person Caitlyn is talking to can see her (Where you watch while these dreams gently float away), which is something we never hear from her. Caitlyn, actually, believes exactly on the contrary, which is that her mother has left a duty she doesn't know how to fulfill and she can't turn to her to find her way; in fact, she never appeals to Cassandra in any fashion. She remembers her, probably wonders whether she's proud of her or not, but she never reaches out to her directly. Long story short, then, the lyrics seem directed more to a living person than to a dead one;

Some lines simply don't apply to Cassandra. Look, I know I shouldn't take every word literally, but here some things wouldn't make any sense anyway. Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me doesn't appear to me as a line I could ever imagine Cait addressing to her mother. Cassandra, even though she wasn't a terrible mother, was still an estimated Councillor and head of one of Piltover's richest and strongest families. She raised her daughter hoping some day she'd take over and sit proudly on her seat at the Council table. Caitlyn was educated as an aristocrat without wanting to be one ("I know you doubt the merit of your birthright, Caitlyn"), which sparked several arguments between them. Cassandra, despite loving her daughter, could never fully accept or understand her and her upbringing and position probably made everything worse. In other terms, Cassandra wasn't probably the kind of mum that'd sing Caitlyn lullabies. Also, again, the verb is conjugated in the present tense, as if the person addressed in the song was still alive. Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning sounded pretty odd to me as well. While it is undoubtly true that Cassandra was probably a professional pretender because of her social position, what Caitlyn is asking for is something much deeper: she's asking to be pulled out from a black hole of sorrow and hatred. It takes experience to put on a good poker face when given such a challenge and, even if we don't know much about Cassandra herself, I could guess that she'd have lacked that sort of knowledge.

Going briefly back to the funeral scene, we can all recall that, while Cassandra and Caitlyn were both in colour, there was also another character highlighted as the heart of that moment: Vi. Vi, who, as it is made perfectly clear through the whole second season, is Caitlyn's anchor. She's the person she relies on the most, starting a war to save her father and letting go of the person she despises the most for her. She goes through her plan with her, asking her what Jinx's fate should be. Vi's the person she turns to when she feels like breaking down instead of her own dad. In other words, in such a desperate moment, if Caitlyn needed someone to talk to, she'd go to Vi.

And that's when the song starts making even more sense:

. There is an ocean so dark down below the waves/ Where you watch while these dreams gently float away: while Caitlyn's saying goodbye to her mother, Vi... watches. Almost like a worried guardian, she keeps her distance while empathising with her girl's feelings, literally watching while their dreams of peace, love and freedom leave with the coffin;

. And there is a silence so soft it's only memory/ Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me: this is such a CaitVi thing to me. Do you remember the wind chimes scene? Her thought of Jinx makes the wind grow furious just like her, while the thought of Vi calms her down. When Cait is tormented by the terrifying noise of Jinx's laughter breaking the silence, Vi comes in and restores it. It's no accident that the only music we can hear in the end is Vi's singing, a soft humming;

. But I can't hear it now/ Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning: to enjoy silence and not feel suffocated by it, your mind must be at peace. At the very beginning of the season, Cait's isn't. Her anger, her sense of guilt scream loud enough to drown Vi's voice. Still, Caitlyn turns to her, because Vi's the only person in her life that knows what she's going through. In fact, when Caitlyn's losing it, because she has no idea of how to fill the hole left by Cassandra, it is Vi that replies: "It gets smaller, but you never fill it".

So here it is, I rest my case.

[cokoweee]

COKO.

As SOON as I saw so many people freaking out about your newest update I KNEW this was going to be a GOOD one~

Broooo I was NOT WRONG.

Let’s begin. :)

The biggest question tumbling around in my mind like a drunk hummingbird is… Why Raph? Why is Kendra having a dream positioned in Raph’s room? The first thing that comes to mind is the fact that Raph’s spirit is the only one Kendra has seen so far- not only seen, but SPOKEN to. And ever since their chat at that lake, Kendra has had a stronger connection to Donnie. (I don’t just mean feelings or emotions). After her and Raph’s talk, Donnie has his freak out moment in the barn. MILES away. And yet, Kendra could sense that something was WRONG.

As someone with three older siblings I can tell you right now that they have an INSTINCT to sense danger/discomfort to their younger sibs. Raph was no different. And I wonder… after their little chat… If he passed some of that to Kendra. Just the sense, the instinct that connects her further to the Hamatos and to Donnie.

Raph wasn’t just some spirit to her- He was slowly becoming like family- her own older brother. Which I think is why when she sees his sais on the ground, that she reaches out to them. Almost as if they radiate with familial warmth and safety. Something… Kendra probably hasn’t felt all that much. So she reaches out.

And then THIS HAPPENS-

Something within her, (whether that be physically, mentally, or spiritually), FORCES her away from Raph’s sais. Pulls her away. Distracts her. It looks as if the inside of her skin is boiling and itching- forcing her to react by trying to claw it out.

And WHAT color is this sensation? This poison coursing through her veins? PINK. The same hue of the sickeningly, vibrant drink that she had five too many of at the party.

(I FRIGGIN KNEW THAT JUICE WAS BAD NEWS FJWIHCIWICJS)

As Kendra begins to panic in the dream, her breaths becoming shorter and more choked, two hands slither out of the darkness and cling to her wrists. As she looks up, trying to decipher who it is that’s attacking her, we get this nightmare fuel. 0-0

Do yall remember what Kendra said at the party to Donnie? “That woman is an eldritch horror. She could peel me open like a grape.” Or something to that effect.. THIS image- the seven eyes compared to the one- looks to me like Big Mama right in the middle of transforming into her true spider form.

Poor Kendra ain’t never gonna sleep again. 0.0

Then just as the nightmare begins to climax into a full on horror show- She is awoken by Donnie calling out her name and holding her.

And once again, Donnie used her FULL name. Not a nickname- He’s SERIOUS right now. He’s WORRIED. He wants her to be okay. And however tiny it is- Kendra shakily replies with “Tello?” Not a full name, but certainly not a hurtful nickname like she’s quite used to calling him.

Here is one of my FAVORITE details of this update: How the colors return and fade with specific words. Here we see Donnie saying he was just going to wake her up- but then the word “gentler” becomes his inner purple. His soul’s hue. The color of his ninpo and his heart. 💜 If this were Donnie from weeks ago, he would’ve stopped at “I was going to just wake you up.” But things have changed since then, hmm? ;)

(Also HUUUUUBOI KENDRA MUST LOOK RED AS A TOMATO WITH DONNIE HOVERING OVER HER LIKE THAT HHOOOWEEEE)

Here again we see the effects of color in the dialogue being used. At first, Kendra is speaking as herself, openly, admitting to Donnie that she had a nightmare.

And then as soon as Donnie begins to say her full name again, with worry and tenderness swelling within the violet hue, Kendra’s words become colorless again. Empty. Devoid of emotion. (Or at least fighting to be.)

Then there’s THIS LIL NUMBER- And now I need to go and review all the past panels to see how long that scar has been there- heheh I shall return in a month’s time.

Kendra begins to get up, (much to the chagrin of worrying Donnie), and she says this. “I’d like to have some dignity left and not have you watch me struggle.”

SWEETY. Kendra. Darling. BOTH you and Donnie have had front row seats to each other’s struggles; dignity isn’t part of the equation anymore when it comes to loving others and being there for them. 💜 🩷

AGAIN- Donnie says her full name. And this is after he has fought within his ever-computing brain and the sounds of his brothers’ spirits shouting at him to “ASK HER!!” Finally he succumbs, but man alive is he scared to hear her answer. As he mentally and emotionally grounded himself for the worst, he covers his face with his hand. (Something to somewhat protect him from what he thinks is coming and the shame that will flood down with it.)

He asks the big question all of us are PLEADING to hear the answer to.

Now Donnie is completely slumped over, his hair a mess, and his tail protectively wrapped around his thigh. He’s absolutely terrified.

And here we see the colors shift in his dialogue again. Purple is BARELY present- FIGHTING to be seen compared to the all-consuming grey bleeding in.

Donnie’s trying to be the way he was before so he won’t get hurt: apathetic. Unaffected. Unfeeling. This was always how he reacted to emotional pain and things of the unknown. And right now, he’s so unsure of himself that he is thrusting himself back seven steps in his healing to somewhere where he thinks is more comfortable; Somewhere where he thinks he has control.

And what does Kendra say? What is her response?

She remembers- THANK THE MERCIFUL HEAVENS SHE REMEMBERS!!! But she, like Donatello, is resorting to the easier, less complicated, less painful option: apathy. Denial. Fantasy.

And poor Donnie’s face here… Even while fighting his emotions he’s still losing to them. Horror mixed with unrelenting sadness is consuming him.

Because he was right. Why… would she ever love him?

COKO YOU INCREDIBLE NUTJOB. This was- THIS WAS- Just-

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Incredible. Absolutely incredible. You did amazing. Holy crap. Make sure to drink water and go say hi to the sun sometimesssss~ Thank you for your story. I hope you had fun making it and driving all your fans batty with everything you hide in it. 🤣

Have a glorious day. :)

~ Melissa

I and WELDING MY BRAIN SHUT on that first half. I gotta. I can’t slap to much down or else I lose my brain hype to do the next update😤😤😤 I just wanna ✍️✍️✍️✍️

AUUGG MAN U REALLY WENT AT THIS UPDATE.third time someone’s brought up the scar and imma just sayyyyy…it’s been there for awhile. Tho it may have changed a bit.

Back to square one with these two. Or maybe not? Lot of squares left to be colored in yknow? AUGGHG I NEED TO

I NEED TO DRAW BUT JUST WRATATSTARRARARARARARR

[bratbarzal]

you said i could send multiple requests and you wouldn’t block me

could you do roommate (or neighbour) nico with ³⁾ “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

“i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.” with neighbour!nico!!!!! bc of course neighbour nico joins your boozy galentines, wears pink fluffy cowboy hats and sings horrific karaoke duets with you. why wouldn't he? not to toot my own horn (again) but beep beep this is a dream that I have had since lunch and I am not giving up on it now.

“I’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything I need to know about how your date went.”

You're locking up your apartment when Nico emerges from the elevator down the hall, shoulders slumped and face downcast as he trudges over to his door.

You'd seen him when you got home from work, earlier - dressed in a dinner jacket, hair all styled, shirt tucked neat - and he had told you he had a date. On Valentines Day.

And yeah, your heart had pretty much plummeted to the very core of the earth, but at the very least, you got to see him looking so good - a vision to store in your memory bank for a rainy day, when you're thinking too hard about how close he is, just across the hall, but so far away, only being your neighbour, and all.

And that was only an hour ago. Just enough time to get ready, yourself. Hair curled all nice, makeup done - the sexiest outfit you could possibly throw together, because it's girls night, and you deserve to feel your best.

A good date doesn't last an hour. Doesn't end up with a guy slumping home, hair all mussed from running his hands through it, jacket slung over his arm and his heart crushed into pieces.

"Got stood up," he huffs, reaching into his pocket for his keys, "Said she didn't realise I was a hockey player, and didn't think I had the brain cells to hold a serious, thoughtful conversation for a few hours."

"Ouch," you frown, feeling anger more than pity - because, wow, what a bitch!

"You look nice, though," he throws out the compliment almost as an aside, but you can tell by the way his eyes linger that he means it - fixated on the spot where your skirt ends and meets bare thigh. You're probably gonna freeze, but you're going to get some great pictures for your Hinge profile, so does it really matter? "Didn't realise you had plans."

"Going out with the girls," you tell him, "Galentines, 'cause we're all single this year."

He nods, his gaze trailing back up your body until your eyes meet, torturously slow, only enhanced by the darkened colour of his irises. "Have a good night."

"You should come," you tell him without thinking better of it - hypnotised by the low, sexy tone of his voice. It goes straight through you - almost takes control of you like a puppet on a string.

"I'm not a gal," he frowns, although he makes no move to go into his apartment.

"You're single, though," you shrug, "I don't think they'll be too fussy on the criteria once we get a few drinks in."

"Are you sure your friends won't mind?" he asks, eyebrow wiggling and head tilting in the adorable way it so often does.

You press your lips together as if you're rethinking it, casting your eyes slowly down his figure - broad shoulders, big arms practically bulging through his shirt, slacks clinging to his thick thighs for dear life. Your friends will have the time of their lives with this.

"Considering a night out only won the vote for what to do by fine margins, I think they'll be okay with it." You smile, knowingly, nodding toward the elevator, "C'mon, we don't want to be late."

"I don't get what that means, what came second?"

"Magic Mike." You smirk as you walk backwards, reaching to press the button and laughing when his jaw drops. "You take your shirt off later and we'll be golden."

The poor guy has no idea what he's in for.

--

Your girlfriends don't mind when you and Nico meet them at the bar, not once you've introduced him - his name not ringing a bell until you mention he's from the apartment next door, and you see the flash of recognition wash through them almost like cascading dominoes, knocking each other over one by one.

They don't know him as Nico, he's much more fondly referred to in your group chat as sexy neighbour, after all.

You've only been telling them about him for the past 18 months you've lived across the hall - regaling them with stories of bulging muscles carrying grocery bags for you, compression shirts sticking to him when he comes back from the gym, and the one time the fire alarm went off in summer, and he hadn't thought to put a shirt on when you met out the back of the building.

Yeah, sexy neighbour is pretty much a celebrity in your friend group.

They welcome him with open arms, and the night evolves, as they so often do in your friend group, in highly chaotic fashion.

It starts with a round of shots, because of course it does. The bar is rowdy, the music loud, and those tiny little glasses of you-don't-even-want-to-know-what loosen lips all around. Nico picks up on the dynamic of your group pretty quickly, shifting the shyness he had walked into the establishment with and charming them all with that same dimpled smile he got you hooked on the day you met.

Shots turn into drinking games - chugging cocktails, taking on dares, spilling secrets, and you learn so much about Nico that you would never have known otherwise, so much that you would never have had the guts to ask.

Drinking turns to dancing, which starts in a crowd on the floor, bodies all smushed together, and ends up on tables, Nico by your side the whole time, hooking an arm around your waist so that you don't fall.

You end up bar-hopping to an extent, the second place you go being a little quieter, and you're all way too drunk to stay, so you end up at the karaoke joint further down the street.

Your friends all pick the girls night classics, Man I Feel Like A Woman, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and there's even a full dance intermission for three of your friends to perform Single Ladies.

You all end up adorning fluffy pink cowgirl hats from god knows where, fluffy feather boas slung from your shoulders, and Nico is suddenly grabbing your hand, dragging you on stage, and handing you a mic before you're fully aware what's going on.

But by then you're too drunk to care, belting What Makes You Beautiful at the top of your lungs with him, still conscious enough to blush when he directs the lyrics towards you - as out of key and awful as they may sound.

And you don't know what happens between that and ending up at the club, bass thumping in your ears, blood pumping, skin sweating, and your back is pressed against his chest. You can still see flashes of feathers in your peripheral, your friends close by, but you can't really focus on anything else.

Anything other than the heat of Mr Sexy Neighbour, himself, flush against you, one of his hands holding yours to keep you steady, the other in the dip of your waist, and his breath warm on your bare neck. You lean into him more than you probably should - more than the sober you of tomorrow will be comfortable with, when you're bumping into him again and unable to look into those pretty eyes - and he leans in right back, nose at the junction where your jaw and ear meets, lips flush against your skin, where you hear him mutter, "I should get you home."

You nod, because what are you supposed to do, speak? With him looking at you like that?

Fat chance of that happening.

And he takes your hand in a firm, clammy grip, doing the rounds between those friends that still remain - the ones he hasn't had a chance to personally see off into a cab - telling them to text him if they need help getting home, and to text you when they eventually make it there.

He guides you practically the whole way home - helps bundle you into the back of a cab, buckling you in for safety and sitting in the middle, where you can lean on him with a heavy head, and your hand in his the whole way.

He throws an arm around you to help you stumble your way through the lobby of your apartment building, holding you up in the elevator and pressing the button for your shared floor. And then he props you up beside your front door, taking your keys from your purse and unlocking the door for you as you watch him with a tired but focused gaze.

God, you want him.

Is the world really so cruel that he would never want you back?

When he finally tries the right key and pushes the door open, he looks over at you, a heated gaze assessing if you're fit enough to send in on your own, and you imagine it's the way you blink slowly at him that tells him you're not.

You were just admiring him, really - your buzz wearing off, and the stumbles added for dramatic effect so that he wouldn't stop touching you - but he doesn't need to know that.

He makes a come here motion with grabby hands, and you practically launch yourself back into his arms, him accepting you with an amused smile as he walks you into your apartment, throwing your purse onto your counter and leaving your keys on the side.

You tug a little to steer him down the hall - in the direction of your bedroom, because if he's gonna play white knight, he may as well go the whole way.

"I had fun tonight," you tell him once he's dropped you off onto the safety of your bed, the bouncing motion only making you slightly dizzy again as you watch him stand before you, hands on his hips. "I don't want to say I'm glad you got stood up, but-,"

"I had fun, too." He tells you, dark eyes landing straight on yours as he slowly lowers, dropping to his knees in front of you and reaching for your leg. He starts unzipping your boots for you, and you watch him with what you can only assume are hearts in your eyes, a slow, dreamy sigh wracking through you.

"Wish I got to see you with your shirt off."

He laughs, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners and his shoulders shake - genuine amusement flooding through him as he looks back up at you, the angle straight up sinful and sobering.

He holds your other leg behind the knee, large hand warm against your bare skin, and slides your other boot teasingly slow - your gazes locked for the whole manoeuvre - his hand following down your leg until he discards both boots to the side.

He stays down there, kneeling in front of you, staring up at you with the prettiest eyes you've ever seen - a flush to his cheeks and a million thoughts racing through his brain.

You lean forward before you can think, and he meets you half-way in a kiss that's slow - sensual and pressured, firm and assuring - the taste of tequila on his tongue as it swipes against yours, which no doubt tastes the same.

He's the first to pull back, but it isn't all the way - just until your lips smack apart, his nose still pressed to yours as he avoids your chasing with a big grin.

"You're drunk."

"Don't care, wanna kiss you." You just about manage to catch him before he pulls back again.

"Not like this."

And then the touch of him is gone, the bump of his nose and the press of his forehead to yours disappearing in a way that makes you pout.

The way he kisses you again is quick - too quick to react, really - before he retreats again.

"You know where to knock when you're sober."

You let out a groan as you watch him leave, unashamedly watching his ass as he goes, eyes still lingering when he stops at your door and catches you with a knowing smirk.

"Happy Valentines Day, sexy neighbour."

[cozymochi]

Since Nyoka is a 3rd year, did he pick anything interesting for his 4th year internship(s)?

He would probably do the “pick two internships and do one for each semester” thing.

FIRST INTERNSHIP

Mining and Energy, i.e what he’s expected to do from his family. Nyoka’s family has really old money and ties to mining in Sunset Savanna (mainly of gold ores and minerals). And being the “i want to represent the best of the best of my wildly misunderstood clan” guy he is, he feels obligated to immerse himself in learning about it probably. Well kinda, because he already is well versed in what his materal family does.

So, it’s probably more so about making that transition into being his new family head sometime after this school thing ends. He needs to be “properly” informed, so to speak, and make reforge connections that might’ve been strained. It’s gonna be his responsibility eventually, after all. (Rn, his mom is the head. Wooo)

Oh no, guess who he might be crossing paths with should he pursue this in full. Sunset Savanna is a big, diverse place. What are the odds.

Though, given Nyoka’s inspiration character, this feels very appropriate. (IYKYK) If his life continues going the way it is, this is probably where he will ultimately end up.

ALTERNATE INTERNSHIP:

IF Nyoka wanted to pursue a personal passion… he might look into something Archaeology related so he can properly study ancient artifacts and antiquities. He loves himself some antiques and appraising them, studying how something was created, what tools. Etc. so on, so forth. If an internship in some archaeology field would allow him to travel and be able to properly study what he reads about in books in person and in his physical hands, he’d probably feel much joy.

SON OF A—

Appropriate.

Dream!Malleus not pictured, but I would not be surprised if real Malleus was also planning on this pursuit even if ultimately he has to just take over as ruler. Maybe he and Nyoka can FINALLy be friends and not two classmates who share the exact same interests and exchange small talk, yet never go out of their way to hang out.

[cucumber-icepop]

"Waiting for the thisisnotawebsitedotcom countdown to end" moodboard

[happi-dreams]

I watched electric dreams finally !!!!!

It’s so good and odd but ohshdkebdkwbdhmehdh EDGARRR !!! EDGAR I LOVE YOUU !!!!!! ! ! ! ! YOU DESERVE BETTER !!!!!

When I saw the ending I SOBBED what the HELL,,,,,

[bunnieswithknives]

Spent the last billion hours inventing fictional foods and brands for my OCs to enjoy

[witchzvamp]

i like that they didn't make po's ex a woman bc that would make me think they were making the "i'm not gay i only like you" type of narrative which makes me so fucking mad every single time it happens

also po likes men and that's ok, i think everyone around him is okay with that fact and that's so important (to me!), it's not a big deal for anyone around him, he doesn't have to hide his attraction to men from anyone

that could still happen with yhame because we don't know about that part of him, and that's not and shouldn't be the focus here, but yeah, it could happen (i mean, he obviously can't announce it publicly but yk we know he will not have to hide this form the members bc he will have that talk with pepper)

but i'm glad po knows that he's attracted to men, and he knows that he feels ✨something✨ when he's around thame (and probably has a tiny little crush on him, but i still think thame start to like po first, obviously)

and thame knowing po for what? at the most a week and already offering to send him home if it's too late omg like BRO STAND TF UP PLS

i can't wait for both of them to start thinking that it could be more than just a work relationship (it already is but they don't know it), bc po will be so overthinking it and thame will be like yeah i like you and want to be with you bluntly

[creaturefeaster]

colorquest becomes SPOOKY in 2 days ( or 3 days ) >:D

creepyquest here we COME!

[sleepdeprivedlilbean]

✨Pins✨

RAHHHHH 👹

YES HELLO I’VE COME BACK WITH THE MILK PINS

huh oh man this took a hot second but i love how they turned out (not so much Dream tho i feel like i could have done better with him sorry Dream fans 😔)

but also Error and Ink bias 💀

ANYWAY i’d be willing to sell these guys if people showed enough interest ya know

also i think i wanna make more with other sanses so look out for a poll to determine the next three 👀

also also i’m posting the original pictures of these guys below and if people wanna use them as profile pics they can! (w/credit pls it’s not that deep but i’d appreciate it)

[the-bolter-tom]

u guys know anything about, first of all, how to find out if a guy is straight, and if he is, how to turn him gay? #needthat !! 😝😝

no seriously i have the BIGGEST urge and crush toward this one guy he looks like knox so so so much i can barely control myself when i see him, i literally go crazy and i turn schizophrenic in front of my friends everytime

[fisheito]

i am still sulking about no aster. (give me a few days and a couple watermelons and i'll be back to normal)