#can you tell hes my fav by the way i drew him

[bluutooth]

random doodles i just have, legend and marin designs not final yet im still cooking give me TIME

also i drew the first one yesterday but the second is like 2 months old i just forgot it under my bed

Please sonic fans dont kill me I was sleepy and drew this really quickly to show my uncle I wasn't in the right headspaces I hope you can forgive my sins of incorrect quotes

[on-a-lucky-tide]

HELLO!

Thought of asking you bc I ADORE your writing, the way you write the NikPrice ship is by far my fav, I would've wrote it myself but I love your way of writing more heh.

BUT price, having a nightmare or ptsd attack at night, but not waking nik up nor does he wake up. Prob just stirred a bit. But he doesn't end up telling him, cause hes a big strong boy he doesn't want to show nik how vulnerable he really is. But nik notices how tense he is during the day, which ofc worries him. Que the emotional conversation maybe a cry and long hug :3

If you haven't written something like this anyway! Also ty for the follow made me giggle and die a bit inside from happiness <3

Thank you for this prompt and your fic is below, but! Please write. Write your heart out, bud. No one can write like you do and the world is richer for having your art in it. So please. Write this too. Even if just for yourself.

Price spent three years in a Gulag. That leaves a mark.

cw: PTSD, nightmares, mention of torture, dissociation, depersonalisation, shameless canon blending.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-1-2-1-0."

A rib cracked. He spat blood onto the table next to the file. The ropes around his wrists tightened.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-"

He bit through his bottom lip when the fist landed. Someone stepped forward to intervene. You don't break their faces because then they can't talk. Interrogation 101. He coughed. More blood, and they yanked him upright by the hair.

"Svyazat yego."

The chair clattered to the floor as he was pulled from it. The ropes cut only for his hands to be chained above his head. The same knife sliced his shirt off, the rags falling around his shoulders. Metal tools rattled to his left, the embers from the nearby fire stirred by an iron.

"Last chance, prisoner 627," his interrogator held the list of names in front of his face. He recognised five of them. He had attended the wedding of one, "confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Cap--"

His voice broke as pain tore through his back.

Price woke tangled in damp sheets, his body paralysed. The scream couldn't even rip out of his throat because his lungs needed air to make noise. Through sheer force of will, he drew his first shuddering breath, pulling himself back from the precipice.

See: digital clock. 04:30.

Taste: dry mouth. Need a drink.

Feel: hot, no; cold... both? Damp sheets.

Hear: breathing, not mine.

Price sat up slowly, forcing movement through his limbs like he was prying them from manacles. The next breath was easier. Burned less. He dropped his face into his palm and shivered in the cold. Feel: cold, he updated on his mental map.

Breathing, not mine. Price looked over his shoulder to the sleeping face of his lover. Half nuzzled into the pillows, his black hair splashed over crisp white cotton, Nikolai was serene. A small mercy.

All the manuals would tell you about wounded soldiers waking screaming and begging in the night, perhaps wetting themselves in terror at the ghosts haunting the inside of their skull. They warned against storing weapons nearby, of sleeping in the same bed as your loved ones in case you lashed out. There was a laundry list of suggested therapies and interventions too.

Sometimes, Price wished he woke screaming, because at least then he would know he was alive. His throat and lungs would burn as he roared, his hands would flail and he would be left panting, raw, but fighting. Alive. Now, in the numb silence, he wasn't sure.

He touched his cold wrist with cold fingers and just felt... cold. Like an absence of something. Prisoner 627. No name, no identity; a nothingness stored in a castle with hundreds of other voids where people should have been. Everything human about them stolen away until just the cold and the pain remained.

Price stumbled from the bed, his legs barely working as he groped his way out of his bedroom. He had to sleep with the doors open these days, even on base. Even if it was just a crack, a sliver, he still needed to be able to lift his head and see an escape. A beyond the little box room of his quarters. Not imprisoned, not restrained.

His feet registered the change from carpet to tile as he navigated his way down the hall to his flat's little kitchenette. Lit by the full moon streaming in through the balcony door, Price managed to fill the kettle and set it to boil.

There was a small blue light inside - one of those modern glass varieties that showed all the bloody limescale on the inside - and it illuminated Price's face against the black laminate of the back splash behind the hob. Price stared at the phantom image, blue and featureless, and saw nothing of himself.

He remembered being rescued, watching the castle fall to the joint task force attacking it, but when you spent three years bleeding in a place, did all of you really ever get to leave? When they spent those three years chipping away at you, breaking parts off, what was left to bring back at all?

As he stared at the ghostly blue outline of his own face, he felt a disconnect. A hollowness where that familiarity with self should be. Lost in the cold and the dark. Prisoner 627.

The kettle clicked loudly in the silence and he startled. His heart beat hard against his rib cage, felt like a distant echo, and he drew another deep sigh. Numb fingers pawed at the cupboards and he found his Liverpool FC mug, the one his sister had got him for his birthday while he'd still been in training at Sandhurst. There was a chip missing out the rim, dark stains and scrapes in the ceramic at the bottom that would never wash out; evidence of hundreds of cups drunk, a small shard of a life lived. An anchor to himself.

As he poured the water over the tea bag and dumped four teaspoons of sugar in, Price fluttered his fingers through the steam, rubbing his thumb through the dampness it left on the tips and letting the sensation crackle through his nerves. He drew another breath and muttered, "Price, Jonathan, Captain..." Prisoner 627.

He cupped both hands around the mug and carried it slowly, stumbling, towards the balcony window. The sky wasn't quite dark anymore, but a fuzzy, ashen grey. His eyes turned east. And he waited.

Waited...

Unmoving. Frozen in place. Like the cold had taken root and turned him to stone. The only things that kept him anchored were the cooling mug of tea clasped between two hands and the yellow light bleeding over the rooftops of the Clydeside.

The sun chased the dark away across the sky, bleeding an ombre of fire into the midnight black. With the sun came the heat. He couldn't feel it though. One hand left the mug, alive with warmth, and played in the dust motes illuminated by the morning light. They whirled around his fingers in white spirals, untouchable light.

He turned the key in the balcony doors and staggered outside, thrusting his arm into the dappled orange light passing through his neighbours fluttering laundry. "Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-" he leaned over, and--

"John!"

Nikolai's hand wrapped his elbow, pure, scorching heat and strength, and it knocked the breath from Price's lungs. He nearly dropped his mug, but Nik caught that too, scooping beneath it as he drew Price to him in a bear hug.

His ear fell against Nik's chest, listening to his heart thundering on the inside. Ba-dm-ba-dm. Price's hand lifted and buried itself in dark chest hair, feeling it run between his fingers, soft, warm. The sensation rolled through him, cracking away the ice, and he turned his face into it with a shivering gasp.

Alive.

I'm alive.

The mug clattered on the glass surface of the little balcony table they had smoked at only the night before, Price lost in his thoughts while Nikolai had watched him pensively from the other chair. Both big hands now free, one stroked up his back to grasp his neck, and he shuddered again.

Nik looked terrified, his usually calm eyes blown wide, glistening. "You nearly fell," Nik said, so softly, and yet so clear. So real. Price touched his lips, relaxing into his hold.

"Was fine, Nik. Just got a bit carried away with the sunrise."

Nik glanced at the rooftops, his brows knitted together. "It is... pretty, but better viewed from inside, hm?"

"Yeah, s'pretty chilly out here, ain't it?"

Nik hesitated before he let go and Price missed the warmth of his arms immediately. He followed inside, let Nik pull him onto the sofa and drag one of the big fleece blankets over them. The heat of his body as it closed around Price's burned with intensity and a stuttering gasp broke out of his throat. Nik only held him tighter.

Every moment he laid there, wrapped in the bed warm scent, a piece of Jonathan Price thawed. From the tips of his toes to the cheek pressed to Nik's chest, warmth and feeling returned, bringing with it a sense of reality and connection to the world. To himself.

"Why were you on the balcony, John?" Nik asked. Price got a sense that he was afraid of the answer, and wasn't entirely convinced he would be given the truth anyway.

"In Petrovpavlosk, my cell faced east," Price said. "Would watch the sun rise every morning. It was like... No matter what they did, no matter what they broke away, if I could feel the sun on my skin, then I was still alive. Still me. Not just a dead man walkin'."

Nik sighed, burying his face in Price's hair for a few deep breaths. "You thought you were there again?"

"Dunno if I ever really left, Nik."

They held each other in silence as the light continued to creep into the flat, illuminating the empty bottles of beer they had left on the coffee table to clear up. "I sensed these past weeks you have been struggling, I know the anniversary of your escape is soon, and I feared you were..."

"That I was gonna throw myself off an' give Beryl a fright."

"John, do not joke about these things..."

"'m sorry, I... I wasn't gonna do it, Nik. Swear to you. I..." he struggled upright a little and Nik let him go reluctantly, "I struggle in the cold. The winter is... I dunno... it's like the cold makes me think I'm still there. That I never got out. That this," he glanced around the flat, his voice cracking as he spoke, "is just some dream my mind made up to escape to. I... I didn't know whether I was real, whether I was me... or... I didn't... Nik, I didn't know whether I was even alive, I..."

Nik's fingernails raked through his beard and he leaned into it. Felt them graze gently over the soft skin beneath his ear, and then into his hairline to draw him down. He yielded to the kiss, mouth opening desperately to let Nik in; he pawed at Nik's chest, stealing stuttering gasps as their tongues worked together.

He didn't notice the tears until he pulled back and one dripped from his chin to Nik's chest. "You are here, solnyshko. Right here, with me," Nik whispered. "Captain Jonathan Price, serial number 9-0-5-1-2-1-0," Nik took the hand on his chest and placed a kiss to the knuckles, "Bravo Six, you are home."

Price crumpled into Nik's arms and his shoulders shuddered as he sobbed. No longer mute, no longer cold, no longer frozen out of his own fucking body, the raw pain of it sunk its claws in, overwhelming and savage.

Nik's hands stroked down Price's back to the burn scars at the base; an uneven, mottled pattern that stretched over his right hip. The sensation was sporadic, some sensitive, some numb, but the muscles underneath still seized with pain. Nik placed his warm palm over them, chasing away the last shadow of Petrovpavlosk hanging over him.

As the morning ticked over and the rest of the block woke up, Nik dragged Price back to the kitchen and pushed a pan into his hands. He stood behind him, huge body looming as a bulwark, chin on Price's head, hands caressing his belly and chest, as the eggs cooked.

Home, Price's mind offered weakly, battered and bruised from its fight with the cold. Home.

[revalition]

OCT 8 - VOLITION

Hold yourself together. Keep your Morale up.

I had to resize this image 3 times to get tumblr to take it... it is also past midnight here, but the day change doesn't really count if I haven't gone to sleep yet, so :)

Volition. My love. my favourite skill. please enjoy. I also drew the volitions of some of my mutuals!! because I love you guys and your volitions very much (holding them gently in my hands). hopefully you guys dont mind and I didn't mess them up too badly

anyway. uhm. I'm much too tired to write anything super coherent right now. please write tags for me or write comments so I can see them when I wake up haha

and! there is a LOT under the cut. like, way more than any of the other days. it is giant. be very careful expanding it <3

ok here goes... I'm typing shorter ones out and screenshotting big ones

--------

VOLITION - Stop, you're only making it worse for him -- you never help with *anything*.

- Rare volition being rude to other skills!!! it only happens under pressure, too

KIM KITSURAGI - "What else could she have done? Lie? She saw there was no way to lie and get away with it."

DRAMA - You would have caught it.

VOLITION - Like hell you would have -- remember?

- you tell him volition!!

SUGGESTION - What is *wrong* with you? Why did you ask to be connected to her? Who *does* that?! Act professional now.

VOLITION - *You* told him to do that stupid thing...

- rare volition callout!!

YOU - Can I trust that guy?

VOLITION - A little. They're all still of limited use, interpreting things to the best of their ability. Maybe they add flair or something? I wouldn't know. I don't add flair.

- this is one of my favs haha. you don't need flair, love, it's ok

VOLITION - Ouch.... That's like twenty points of pride-damage right there, buddy.

- This is after Sylvie turns you down to get coffee. (and you do suffer a point of morale damage haha). him calling you buddy is so funny. it's always mildly condescending too!

- here's the other two:

VOLITION - You're no titan of Volition, buddy. He's got you in a fork. Sit down or leave.

VOLITION - You're a little more moralist now, buddy. A little more *normal*. Even if you didn't want to be.

YOU - "Cryptid extravaganza? I like the sound of that."

KIM KITSURAGI - "And I *don't*. Just one."

VOLITION - Or he'll be *disappointed* in you.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Whooh... tough choice there.

- volition knows it's truly the most terrible thing haha

VOLITION - An enormous expenditure of willpower to build up strategic semen reserves? You had me at *willpower*. Let's do it!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Life is all about pleasure... why deny it?!

- these two are hilarious. poor echem. but also volition, honey, nono...

- the game implies consequences when increasing your skills too high but you don't see it with all of them. Volition's one you don't really see much downside to, but you can just. Imagine it here. Him pressuring you to do something stupid, just for the sake of it being difficult. Surely that's not healthy??

- I do think Volition has a lot of issues. I'll get into some more of them later though!!

- but just... Harry wanting to do something that *is* a test of willpower and Volition is completely uninterested. But the semen retention thing is okay? sigh

- and then after that, he's just like. nope. we're not going to not swear :)

- he's so stupid sometimes. also it's absolutely hilarious to me that you can pick the "..." option over and over and Volition will match it forever. You simply cannot out-will your own willpower. It's just not possible.

- I actually live for Volition being the singular voice of reason. Look at the others all chiming in!!

- this one too, Volition being the only one trying to stop it! Why are they all piling on?? Composure not you too >:(

- I had excessively high Volition *and* Pain Threshold in my first run and the two of them!!! PT gets very self destructive at high levels, so seeing the relentless push and pull of PT and Volition was so good.

- This line from the description -> "Cool for: Sane People, Well-Adjusted Cops, The Non-Suicidal" yes it's cool for them, sure, but it's incredibly!!! important for NOT these people! Because Volition doesn't make you sane, or well-adjusted, or non-suicidal. He's just the one voice of reason in there trying to veer you away from making irreversibly bad decisions.

VOLITION - She tries to hide it, but some *great doubt* is spreading within her. There is a crown slowly cracking above her head.

- I need to talk about this line. Just. Volition acknowledging the existence of Joyce's own Volition (which he refers to as a crown!!!) cracking! the *great doubt* spreading and cracking apart the crown! hghh I live for any and every depiction of volition cracking apart when morale gets low and this is absolutely one of them.

AUTHORITY - Weren't you warned to *not* go down this path?! And yet you *still* go and do it...

VOLITION - Just because you *can* doesn't mean you *have to* say everything that comes to mind. Back out before the situation escalates.

- these two's dynamic is very funny to me. I love when they work together (but I also love when they fight! fight fight fight!)

VOLITION - Don't ask, don't look, don't do *anything* here. Just go away. Get back to work.

- "Just go away" ugh my guy is fighting for his life here to get you away from the cigarette and alcohol counter in the Frittte

- hghhk Volition. this is a Challenging passive check too (the second one, to hang up). *one* chance, that's all he has in him. It's not possible at all in the dream, no matter how high your Volition stat is. It's just not something he can do. But here, with the distance of the payphone between you and possibly real consequences, he's able to manage one chance.

- (also did anyone see the post about the payphone conversation possibly being entroponetic crosstalk?? I could talk about that for way too long. but I am getting sidetracked)

YOU - "Yeah, I'm done talking about her. I don't want to think about her anymore."

RHETORIC - What a strange choice of words...

EMPATHY - Caustic, overflowing with negativity.

VOLITION - That can't be healthy. What's happening here? Why do you keep coming back to this window?

YOU - Nothing, everything's okay.

VOLITION - But it isn't. And you shouldn't come back to this anymore. This should be the last time. Stop talking about that damn window, please.

- this one too

VOLITION - Throw it away. Please.

- I need to talk about this. Volition dutifully directs you away from all the reminders of Dora. He does everything in his power to stop the final dream from happening.

- And I get it. He's trying to protect Harry. Because Harry isn't mentally stable right now and it could endanger the case. but... at least, when the final dream happens Kim is (usually) there when you wake up. And if all went well, you get to go back to your precinct, and take Kim with you. And Harry has support.

- If the dream doesn't happen... it will happen eventually. There are a million reminders in Martinaise in the span of a week, imagine what Jamrock is like. It's an inevitability. And then you're taking the chance that the dream happens at a time when Harry is much worse off. Maybe he's alone. Maybe Kim left, maybe he was let go from the force.

- The dream could happen at a better time too, of course. we probably all imagine harry picking up the pieces after martinaise and his life finally taking a turn for the better. and I imagine this is what Volition had in mind, by delaying the dream. Maybe it can be delayed for a long time, long enough.

- but it's a huge risk and I just... don't know if he's making the right choice here. keeping important information about Harry's past, which has shaped his relationships and life considerably, in a box so it can't hurt him

- yeah. anyway...

YOU - What if I don't want to ask questions?

REACTION SPEED - You're a cop, Harry. It is *unnatural* of you not to want to ask questions.

VOLITION - You don't have to. No one is forcing you to be a cop.

- Volition??? sometimes this guy makes no sense, he's so funny. I really think he occasionally just does something for the sake of being defiant

EGG HEAD - "Please. Please?" The young man smiles at you widely, bright and innocent as the summer sun.

VOLITION - His pleaful smile is disarming, but you can withstand it's glorious assault, if you just put your heart into it.

- why? why?? don't turn down egg head ever!

VOLITION - Alright, come on now. If *he* hasn't said anything about your lack of pants, no one will. You're only hurting yourself by not wearing them...

- this one is so funny. I love that he lets you know he *knows* you're trying to get a reaction and you're not going to get one!!

- yes volition, stop himmm

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - How very astute of you! This renders it ineffectual. You should look for a *whole* cigarette. Or better yet -- an entire pack! Strike that, a CARTON! Make sure they're all healthy and able-bodied, then smoke them all.

VOLITION - Or -- you could *not* do that. No one is making you.

- volition as usual trying to stop you from picking up bad habits... I just love the way he talks. he's not even telling you not to, just voicing his disapproval in a rather passive way

INTERFACING - Wow, the gods of mass production have made this alcohol container *laughably* easy to open. A child could have done it.

VOLITION - I don't know about this...

- he still doesn't outright tell you not to drink it... :(((

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Fine. We're not worried... you'll crawl back to this bottle soon enough. We'll give you another chance. Booze *always* gives you *another* chance.

SUGGESTION - Yes, it's *merciful* that way. It's your friend. Come back to it, we're all rooting for you to.

VOLITION - Not *all* of us...

- he's the only one rooting for you to not drink it!! he can't stop you. but he is supporting you in the only way he's able.

VOLITION - No. You *can* stop. Just wade through the hell. Month after month. Year after year -- you against the nothingness. It's possible, because *time* is possible.

- He can encourage you!!

YOU - "I *will* stop drinking."

MEASUREHEAD - "THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE. THE GAME OF *SHAH-MAT* YOU PLAY AGAINST THE GUL'S TRICKS IS UNWINNABLE. THE DAYS, THE WEEKS, THE MONTHS WILL WEAR YOU OUT. THE OCCIDENTAL HAPLOGROUP IS INCAPABLE OF LONG TERM LUCID THOUGHT."

VOLITION - NO.

- volition!!! <3 that's all he needs to say.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - This is it. I'm gonna hit the ground and burn away now. Most of the people in this yard are gonna die -- if not all. Probably you too. It's a COMPLETE DISASTER.

PAIN THRESHOLD - Get ready for a world of pain, man.

VOLITION - No. Not a disaster. Weave this into the story of you. Walk out of its *ruins*. Save those who still can be saved -- *I'm* on your side.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - And the lieutenant too. And the men behind your back, drawing their weapons... you can live. You can get out of this.

- hnngh. this one is among my favourites too. my amazing 1 int run also had 1 motorics. at this point I had failed the rhetoric check to save ruby, failed the logic check to save lizzie, and now failed the spirit bomb throw too and was about ready to cry. Volition's quiet reassurance was very important to me in that moment. EdC too, and I did save Kim.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Your hand trembles as you scratch at your cheek... oh no, that's not how a grown man shaves!

YOU - Leave it for now.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Thank god, I would have cut your throat.

VOLITION - The centipede is exaggerating -- people don't actually cut their own throats when they're shaving. At least not accidentally.

- centipede!!! it's such a funny nickname. alternatively

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Your hand trembles as you scratch at your cheek... oh no, that's not how a grown man shaves!

YOU - This isn't sharp enough. Scrape harder.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Stop, for crying out loud! You're gonna cut your own throat.

VOLITION - There's no way to salvage this.

- these guys are hilarious. why is volition even watching this mess? 'there's no way to salvage this.' ??? I'm not even sure if he's referring to you or H/E... he must be so tired.

ENDURANCE - You feel like you're about to faint and fall off the swing. Your hands get clammy and the air tastes sour to breathe.

HALF LIGHT - Oh god, Harry! Oh god, Harry, what did you do...?!

VOLITION - No! Just nope. Say no to this, Harry.

- more of this!! >:( of volition trying to just avoid anything painful. wake up man.

LOGIC - Everything is so pretty and red -- you and Leo look like brothers as you glance around with similar childlike wonder.

VOLITION - Keep it together, no need to show your wonder.

- why? :( it's not hurting anyone. legendary difficulty passive for volition, high levels of volition are sometimes questionable. I love collecting all these instances of volition making weird suggestions. it's like when people point out really weird things Kim does, that you don't really notice as weird because he does it so calmly and confidently.

VOLITION - Huh... no, Mr. Conclusion. You're always kind of limited in your analytical abilities. That's not *her* fault. But still...

- volition: you're kind of limited in your analytical abilities... meanwhile logic and viscalc and ency calling you stupid and brain damaged lol. vol is so gentle about it!!

- then again...

VOLITION - ...no? He's not going to show up? I'm sorry, your lie detection isn't working. It's not her doing, he's just totally inept. It looks like you're also an idiot. But that's not her fault.

- lol.

RHETORIC - This is good. Clear the air first -- between you two -- then move on to questions.

VOLITION - No, it's not good. It's the opposite of that. This will let her dictate the terms of your...

RHETORIC - Shush. I can't hear what she's saying.

- no. don't ever cut off or shush volition ever again

- >:(

YOU - No-no-no-no...

INLAND EMPIRE - Yes, yes, yes, yes.

VOLITION - No-no, we're not starting with that. Not now. Not this time. This thought is over.

- volitionnnn... ily. my own volition also cuts off dangerous lines of thought for me. I think he's got to be constantly vigilant, in order to be so good at it. must be exhausting :(

YOU - "Can't promise that. I might attack him again." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant groans, but doesn't say anything.

VOLITION - That's right, you *should* do it again! It's the *last* thing he'll be expecting.

- uhm. not sure that's a good idea!!

VOLITION - You're too weak to say 'no' now. Waking up is the worst part. Maybe somewhere down the line you could decline...

- referring to declining the speed. all volition fails are very sad

VOLITION - Yes, look at yourself. What do you see?

YOU - Just a sorry stack of shit...

VOLITION - Yeah, didn't even know they stack shit *that* sorry.

- beautiful, rare volition scolding you!!!! after you disregard his advice and don't apologize to kim after the church fail. he's on your side, but he also knows he needs to tell you that this wasn't okay.

VOLITION - First the investigation, now this... how many more things do you have to fuck up?

- this one too! same scenario. this is a difficulty 16 (Godly) check...

- yes this again. it just needs to be in here. the volition panic attack. if this volition passive doesn't fire, you take no volition damage. it's completely self-inflicted :(((

PAYPHONE - The headset lands in the cradle with a clank. There it sits -- still warm from your hand. You have no idea what just happened.

(heal 2 endurance and 2 volition)

- if you hang up the phone before dora picks up!

VOLITION - He subdues the feeling. Dusts himself off and moves on. So should you. There will be other chances.

(heal 2 volition)

- if Kim misses getting a picture of the phasmid

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - The necktie is guiding you through this. It's your spirit animal, both your nemesis and friend. Suddenly a feeling of ease brushes through you -- you're fine again.

(heal 2 volition and 1 endurance)

AUTHORITY - That... was the most honourable thing anyone has ever done, Harry.

(heal all volition)

- very special incidences of healing more than 1 volition at once!! the fact that healing/damaging morale is just directly called heal/damage volition in the variable naming is. yeah. I think about it constantly. does it hurt him? I think it does. and he never says anything about it (unlike endurance!) he just bears with it quietly.

VOLITION - In honour of your shit, lieutenant-yefreitor. Which you kept *together* in the face of total, unrelenting terror. Day after day. Second by second.

INLAND EMPIRE - DETECTIVE

ESPRIT DE CORPS - ARRIVING

AUTHORITY - ON THE SCENE

- obviously this one has to be in here. funnily enough, in my second playthrough I had 2 PSY but everyone had been bumped up enough that they all fired except authority... I ended up throwing a point into authority and retrying the dialogue so it could be complete haha

VOLITION - What? I thought you had your shit together! This is nearing a complete meltdown! Stop it!

- volitionnn :( if you don't stop you have a panic attack, so I guess he's only trying to help

- this is too funny. volition honey, you absolutely do add flair too

YOU - Oh, you mean Cuno?

VOLITION - Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

- yup, absolutely no flair. Super. Tip-top!

VOLITION - These guys are compromised. She's got them singing along to her tune. The little bleeps and bloops you trust for info -- you can't trust them anymore.

- it would be a crime to not include the bleeps and bloops in here! why does he call them that?? haha

- rare instance of volition not being able to stop the disaster!

INLAND EMPIRE - Your surroundings are undisturbed. While you slept, you were alone. Now that you're awake -- you're still alone.

HALF LIGHT - Get the fuck out of here. Fuck this place, fuck this world, fuck this life, fuck this body -- just fucking go.

SAVOIR FAIRE - The sheets are stained red. Your blood's been running again. Keep it together. Just get out of here and finish this fucking thing.

VOLITION - Harry... I know there's not much to say -- but if nothing else, just remember that you've made it this far. And it's just a bit farther now. Let's finish this.

- this is just. it's awful, if you have the final dream all alone. but at least you have volition with you

DICK MULLEN AND THE MISTAKEN IDENTITY - Dick Mullen was made to crack skulls and solve cases. It's who he is. He could no more stop being a detective than a tiger could cease to be a predator in the night.

VOLITION - You're no tiger, though, Harry. You're a man. It's your curse to have to choose.

- I like this one.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - That sugary black rum stain on the counter makes you teary-eyed with joy. It's almost touching how syrupy and sticky it is. How long have you been up already?

YOU - Not now.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh *excuse me*, do you have something better to do than lust for sweet syrupy rum and lemonade? With a twist of lemon? Maybe lime? Maybe who cares, just rum?

VOLITION - Yes, you do have something better to do. Stop drooling over that stupid rum stain and go. Before it's too late.

- this is a challenging (difficulty 12) check! it's very difficult to resist the sticky rum stain I guess

YOU - Give up.

LOGIC - There we go. Your mind is a relaxed muscle. It's so nice and easy to give up, isn't it? On the downside -- you have no idea what you were supposed to do now. I could have *debriefed* you.

VOLITION - Blissful idiot -- say something. You've stood there for too long.

- blissful idiot

VOLITION - Don't be an idiot and say it. In this day and age, of all times. It won't end well.

- once again, volition pushing you away from the bi-curious thing. :( he just wants to keep you safe, but it comes at a cost.

- you can't just wrap harry in bubblewrap, volition. he'll never grow

- volition absolutely saving the day here. do NOT say it harry! authority's advice is SO hit or miss

VOLITION - It's time to leave it be. You're about to make a child cry. Are you proud of yourself?

YOU - Damn right I am! Proud as the Lion of Serber.

VOLITION - Excuse me, I'm not sure I heard that properly...

- volition ily. he has to deal with so much.

VOLITION - Should we? He's *nice*. I don't like *nice*.

- this is so funny. he's very suspicious.

VOLITION - Look at it, detective. And be ashamed. Until you make it right by *legally purchasing* that raincoat, I'll make sure you feel guilty every time you see it.

- YES YES conscience volition!!

YOU - Close the carabiner.

SLEEPING DOCKWORKER - The sleeping dockworker has little to say about your actions. He remains silent.

VOLITION - You're not 100% clear what you did here was *right*, but to hell with it...

- only sometimes!!

VOLITION - I can't restrain this one. The need to *cop* is too strong. You just need to ask it.

- why are you trying to restrain copping??? this guy, sometimes. he's so stupid (affectionate)

VOLITION - That's it. I'm calling it. Kim is beyond compromised.

- uhm. volition completely overcompensating with the compromised skills is quite funny. once drama wakes up, he does it too

VOLITION - See? It's oddly moderate. Probably compromised.

- oddly moderate now means compromised??

- this is it. this is volition's only comment on this disastrous authority fail. he makes no attempt to stop it!!

VOLITION - Being Cuno's pig has a steadying effect on your hand. Go with the flow, man...

- volition's so silly sometimes

DAMAGED LEDGER - You feel that thing in the back of your head? That little voice, that quiet scream? You already felt this was a bad idea, but especially right now it's even worse. Try as you might, you can't read it now.

VOLITION - You've got *business* to deal with first. Talk to the Union boss first, at least... I can't stop you for long, but there's just enough of an excuse now.

- Volition fighting for his life to stop you from reading the letter :,(

VOLITION - If it's possible, then by pure willpower alone. You are going to have to become... a psycholocomotor.

- that is *not* a real word but we love you anyway vol

LOGIC - Is that how it is now? We should just try all good things *twice* and then give up? By that logic...

VOLITION - Not you too...

- he's all alone out here :(

VOLITION - Someone's been a very busy boy. Good on you...

- thank you...?

VOLITION - *Very* off. Just let her go. Listen to me for once...

- for once?? :((( but if you try...

VOLITION - I can't help you. I am totally useless. Everything I've said is lies. I want the exact same bad things you want. To stand here, like a pillar of salt, saying...

- this is probably one of the saddest lines. all the skills falling apart in the dream is awful, but volition might be the worst. it's also very important that volition *does* want the exact same thing you want. He wants to drink and smoke and think of dora and die. And he chooses to resist it anyways. To be the only thing standing in your way. But it's to the point where it's all he knows. He knows that he has to resist the things he wants, and will occasionally take it too far. Keeping Harry (and himself) from things that will make them happy. In the setting of the game, Volition keeps things together and on track. But once Harry is back in his normal life, it will become very much a double edged sword I think. Luckily(?) it will self balance a bit, where if Volition prevents Harry from being happy then he'll lose morale, weakening volition, and then vol won't prevent harry as much and it'll balance out. hopefully.

VOLITION - Despair creeps into you, getting fat on your weakness. Whatever noble intentions you once had as a police officer -- it's eating them all up now.

VOLITION - Nothing you can say would make you feel any better now...

- 😭 I hate this, I hate the volition death. the endurance one is really painful too, but this one's painful in a different way. Volition isn't getting back up from this. the awful newspaper clipping saying you go to live under a bridge... that's what happens when you let volition die?? if any of the other skills (except endurance) drop to 0 you can just raise them back up, but vollll.... ugh.

VOLITION - Listen... It's okay to take a few minutes to yourself. Sit down and have a breather.

ENDURANCE - You need to rest. Your body is aching. Getting in here has taken something out of you. Have a seat.

- our two health pool boys encouraging you to take care of yourself <3

YOU - "Kim, can *you* see it?!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "I can see it."

VOLITION - Four simple words -- thank god. If he can see, then you're not insane.

- this one is obviously very important.

YOU - "I've finally gone insane..." (Put your head in your hands.)

[...]

VOLITION - My god... maybe you *are*.

- if Kim and Cuno aren't there, and your Volition is really low, you get this very sad fail. :(

VOLITION - True, you ought not love ruins and hell -- and the fading scent of apricots.

- I like this one.

WASHERWOMAN - "I *can* wash it for you," she says after looking the jacket over, "but it's going to take about a half an hour. Think you can stay put for that long?"

VOLITION - Hell yeah!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - No, we must run around ceaselessly. It would be torture to stay put.

- I really really love him.

YOU - "By the way, I'm going to sing karaoke here."

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "Absolutely out of the question."

VOLITION - You wait and see, cafeteria manager!

- volition will not be told no!!

VOLITION - No one can STOP you from finding the phasmid.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU?!?! Are you going to CRY now, son?

VOLITION - You heard the coach! This is weakness. It cannot go on much longer, or you will LOSE.

- these guys are great. coach!

YOU - Right. Activate Denial Mode.

VOLITION - You're not really an automaton, you do know that?

- oh, thank you for the insight volition

- even your most willful, imaginative skills know this scope creep was insurmountable...

DRAMA - But we *are* awake, sire! She has been forthcoming -- with sordid details women usually conceal! Most *shocking* details of the sexual kind! We are a bulwark, un-breached...

VOLITION - You've been breached, bulwark. You've been breached, like, a thousand times now!

- nooo poor drama (volition is right)

- Volition trying to reassure you after the Tribunal is very important.

- SO TRUE.

DRAMA - This may have been a *grave* mistake, sire.

VOLITION - Maybe. Maybe not. Mercy is rarely a *complete* mistake.

- I really adore this quote.

I think I'm going to leave it here. I haven't included some quotes that I put in other posts already but I might add them in later to have a comprehensive Volition post... But I've spent like 4 hours on this already so I'm giving it a rest for now :)

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

-

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, “hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

[judasgot-it]

Hey hey, may I request when s/o takes care of hunting dogs when they have their monthly surgeries?

oh how I love my sweet angels, they do no wrong...

also sorry I cheated, I didn't write Fukuchi or Teruko but that's my fault. yell at me if you want them, I just like writing for my fav sexy men and silly boy!

taking care of the hunting dogs while recovering from their surgeries Jouno, Tachihara, Tecchou

Jouno

______________________________________________________________

"If I ever die, I don't know if I want you to find someone else."

Jouno was lying on the recovery bed, covered in a thin blanket, looking paler than usual. Whenever you saw him, he was cloaked in his uniformed cape, face hidden underneath his cap - it always gave him a sense of illusion and power. But now he was completely bare, with new red surgical scars alongside his muscles and veins.

"If you ever die? You say that like you're immortal."

He turned towards you, his usual false cheeriness now set into a thoughtful frown.

"I could easily be immortal. Then you'll never be able to get rid of me."

He smiled, reaching for you. You leaned over from your chair, meeting him halfway as he held your hand.

Taking your other hand, you brushed the tips of your fingers through his scalp, carefully separating the strands and allowing them to fall against his cheek. His nose twitched at the feeling, which made you smile.

"You're warm."

He grabbed at your sweater, pulling you alongside it. You nearly fell over, catching yourself on the small recovery bed Jouno was laying on.

"Is this sweater mine? I've been looking for it."

He sat up, making space for you on the small bed. You gladly took all the space you could, splaying your legs all over Jouno's lap.

"Do you want it back? It's kind of cold here."

Even with the sweater, you could still feel the cold air blowing in the room, keeping your skin colder than you'd like.

"No, I have a better idea."

Two hands snaked up your waist, pulling the sweater up to your shoulders. You felt your breathing cut off as Jouno forced his head through the back of the fabric, pulling at the already well-worn neckline.

You tried to adjust or move away, but were helpless as Jouno finally forced his way through the sweater - his chest pressed flush against your now exposed back as he pulled the sweater down around the both of you.

His arms pulled you close, tucked inside your little cacoon, his face burying into your neck. His nose was cold, and you could feel that he was purposefully trying to warm himself against you as his fingers traced up against the exposed skin of your belly.

"Are you happy now? You're really cold, you know."

You sat up the best you could in your position, trying to pull down your shirt that had rode up from Jouno's invasion of your warmth. It was no use, as Jouno was practically melted into you.

"I'm warmer now. You have really good blood circulation, it's nice to feel."

He was mumbling into your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel his eyelashes flutter as he spoke, while his fingers drew meaningless patterns against your skin.

One of his hands reached up right towards your heart, his warming fingers pressing right against supple skin.

"Don't tell me I'm making you blush right now, I can feel it with you right underneath me."

He was nearly giggling at his cruel teasing. You groaned, reaching up and lightly tugging at Jouno's hair.

"You're practically crawling into my skin right now, what do you expect?"

You felt his chest huff in amusement, his large hands pressing against your skin. He was really trying to consume your everything, not giving you a moment's peace.

He simply hummed, the vibrations from his body tickling you.

"You know, you kind of look like the girl on the shirt."

He took out his hand and reached to trace the old and faded design, right over your chest. He wasn't going to acknowledge how your breath hitched as his finger traced along the shirt, right over your chest.

"I can barely even see the girl, surprised you know what she looks like after all this time."

Leaning back, you pat his thigh, hidden under the thin and scratchy hospital blanket. Jouno squeezed your waist in return, his thumb massaging your skin.

"I had it before I lost my sight, so to me, it still looks brand new. Don't ruin the lie my brain tells me, I want to believe that it still belongs in a landfill."

"It probably does. It's only good because it's warm and it smells like you, but I wouldn't wear this in public."

Jouno placed his forehead on the back of your neck, feeling for your warmth.

"I haven't washed this sweater in months, hope you know that's the smell you're enjoying."

You gently slapped his thigh, snorting.

"Oh god, you're disgusting Jouno! I thought you were different from other guys."

He hummed, squeezing you tightly. He was taking advantage of his position, holding you next to him in that large, worn, and threadbare sweater. Jouno was never more glad he was left alone for his recovery, since he never wanted to be seen in such an intimate position.

"I'm teasing Y/n. I really should throw this out though, we can afford better."

Tecchou

______________________________________________________________

You were sick of this man already.

"Tecchou. Sit down."

"But I feel fine Y/n. I can get up just fine."

"You just had surgery. No, you can't."

It took your entire body weight to get him back down on the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. You've tried everything you could to force the man to do his mandatory bed rest, but he was just not having it.

The two of you were having a staring competition at the moment, you trying your damndest not to kill the man underneath you.

"Tecchou."

"Y/n."

"Please. You need to rest, this wasn't like the other surgeries. They literally had to operate with your organs in a bowl, they need some time to readjust."

"I've gotten back up from worse. I'm built differently from other people, I'll be fine after a few warmups."

You couldn't argue with that, technically. He was 'different' and everything but...when you came to help Tecchou recover after his recent surgery, you thought it would be different. You never realized how asinine he was, until now, really.

"Absolutely not. The nurse gave very specific instructions that you were told to follow."

"Those are guidelines. I've never followed them before and came out perfectly fine."

You didn't know if it was Tecchou's blank stare or the fact that he didn't even register how hard you were trying to push him to fully lie down. He still had the strength to hold himself up on his elbows, looking up at you from his dark mop of hair. It was all slightly aggravating, and very frustrating.

"It's not that big of a deal. It's 24 hours of bed rest. You can literally sleep it off."

Tecchou sighed, finally letting you push him down on the bed. His gold eyes looked away for a second, contemplating.

"Can you sleep with me?"

"Sorry, sex also isn't allowed in recovery."

"No I mean - physically sleep. With me. On the bed. What does sex have to do with this?"

You looked down at him. He wasn't joking.

A laugh escaped you.

"What's so funny Y/n?"

His face was serious, with a thoughtful frown and furrowed brows coating his features. It was cute, had it not been for his stubbornness.

"Nothing. Yea, I'll sleep with you. I brought a blanket, actually, so this is perfect."

You went to the bag you packed - it was stuffed to the brim with junk you thought, maybe, you might need for Tecchou's recovery period. It looked more like a diaper bag, but the food was already eaten and now the blanket sure as hell came in handy, didn't it?

"Move, I need room to sleep too."

"Can't you sleep on top of me? You don't weigh anything."

Sighing, you spread the blanket on top of him, climbing on top of the rather small medical bed. You were crouching on top of his thighs waiting for him to move.

"I won't lie down until you scooch. I'm not laying on top of a man who just had a major surgery."

Tecchou put his arms around your waist, his face neutral.

"I like looking at you. I don't mind this."

You groaned. Tecchou snorted, pulling you a little closer.

"I'll move. I don't see the point, but if it really bothers you, I'll move."

He pulled you down, having you lie right next to him. You were pressed against him, your legs still on top of his, your chest pressed against his side. His arms held you close, warm, and pressed firmly against your back.

"You're too stubborn Tecchou. I'm supposed to be taking care of you right now. You don't need to be playing strongman right now, dumbass."

You put a hand on his chest, feeling as he took in a deep, strong breath. His heart was strong, practically beating out of his chest in its rhythmic pattern.

Tecchou didn't respond to what you said, his hands holding you tighter. You reached your hand up, rubbing circles on his exposed clavicle as you simply breathed in his presence.

"I'm your dumbass, right?"

You snorted, craning your neck up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling tiles, looking for patterns his eyes could trace.

"Yea. That's why I take care of you, even though you don't think you need it."

You leaned up on one of your elbows, your other hand reaching up to gently thumb his cheek. His eyes followed you, his eyelashes fluttering each time your thumb grazed the three dots right underneath his eye. His face was hot, but he was enraptured in watching you as your eyes drank in all of his features.

"You're still a dumbass though."

With the way you said it, it didn't even register as an insult. You spoke those words so softly, leaning close to Tecchou's face, your breath hot against his jaw. He shuddered at the feeling.

One of his hands reached up, gently cupped the back of your head, fingers entangling in your hair, and pulling you down to kiss him. Your teeth knocked against one another, lips caught in the mix before he finally caught your bottom lip. You felt his hot breath breathe against your skin, his fingers curling against your hair strands tighter as he tried to pull you in closer.

You put your hand on his chest, pushing him away enough so you could breathe without tasting him. The air felt colder without him, even if just a little further away.

"Tecchou, you're supposed to be recovering. Sex isn't recovering."

"Nothing was said against kissing. Just be gentle with me and it'll be fine, right?"

The smile Tecchou had on his swollen lips looked too innocent for what the bastard was implying.

You didn't even want to say no to him.

Tachihara

______________________________________________________________

Tachihara felt bad for whoever was going to have to clean the hospital room.

He was looking around, with you laying on his shoulder, laptop haphazardly placed in between the two of your laps - to see the disgusting mess that you two had made of the place.

There was sauce spilled on the mattress, and popcorn kernels on the floor somewhere from where the two of you had thrown it at each other. He hoped the doctor wouldn't know about what he was really eating, since he was sure he would get a mouthful about it later. He hated the slop they tried to feed him at the facility, he truly did.

You, on the other hand, had brought nearly every snack imaginable. His cheeto dusted fingers and Dorito's breath could attest to that fact. The surgery made his legs hurt this time, but for now, his soul was happy as he continued to tear through the bags you had brought.

"Gimmie one."

He looked over to see you looking at him expectantly, you eyes wide and now that he looked closer in the low hospital light, were accompanied by deep bags. You probably hadn't slept since he had gone in for surgery, which was a full 26 hours ago now, and it showed.

Tachihara was surprised you still had any energy, but it might've been from the energy drinks you had brought with you. He wasn't allowed to have any of those, as you were a "responsible nurse" apparently. He didn't believe that, but watching you be so happy to look over him made him happy - as did the puffed Cheetos he was chewing.

"Open your mouth."

He watched as you closed your eyes and lazily opened your mouth, your tongue hanging out of your mouth languidly. He placed a puffed cheeto on your tongue, slowly closing your jaw, trying to avoid getting any cheeto dust on you. He failed, but he enjoyed watching the smile on your face as you chewed happily, going back to the film.

"Wait. You have dust on you."

He reached over, trying to wipe it off. He forgot about the dust on his hands however, which spread it around. You blinked at him, not registering the mistake, until you wiped at your chin, pulling back to see it coated in orange.

You looked back at him, giggling.

"I'm so messy, geez."

You laughed, trying to hide your mouth so you didn't spit out your cheeto. Tachihara watched you, a smile pulling on his own face.

"I think we both need to wash up. We really went ham here."

You sat up, looking up at the mess the two of you had created. Lazily, you laid back down on the squashed pillows that had become your bed.

"Let's do that later."

Your voice was low and tired.

"I'm tired. I think I'm having a caffeine crash finally."

You were interrupted by a yawn, one that ran throughout your entire being as you stretched yourself out on the hospital bed. The laptop was barely caught by Tachihara, who placed it further down by your feet. The movie was now long forgotten, having become of little importance to the two of you - just background noise.

Tachihara merely watched you, groaning as he tried to get comfortable while lying back down, getting close to you. He kept his golden eyes on your figure - you were falling asleep, messy and unkempt, but he still thought you were beautiful. Your breathing was soft, with your chest rising slowly right by his arm.

Most of all he was thankful he didn't have to wake up alone - and now fall asleep alone, in this cold, unwelcoming hospital room. It almost felt like a home, with how messy it was.

"Hey, Y/n?"

You hummed tiredly as a response, tiredly shaking your head to show him that you were listening. Tachihara smiled as he took the back of his hand, tracing your jaw - now extra careful to avoid spreading Cheeto dust on you.

"Thanks for taking care of me. This was nice."

"Yea."

You yawned again, lazily opening your eyes and turning towards him, smiling. They were half-lidded, barely registering what they were seeing.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I want to take care of you."

You reached over, curling your dirty fingers into his hospital gown. Tachihara didn't have it in him to feel grossed out. He felt incredibly warm, however, as you pressed your forehead against his, a small smile on your sleeping face.

[fiapartridge]

🌊 will smith ur fav

i love u he's my fave boy ever

You saw him everywhere. Every newspaper, every post on Instagram, every poster strewn across stone walls haunted you with pictures of the man who could’ve been yours if you had just let him in.

“What’s happening, Y/N?” Will stood at your doorstep, his hands tucked away in the pockets of his black coat, the cold air engulfing his red nose in a hug. “Please, if something’s happening, you can tell me.”

You shook your head, your eyes willing themselves not to fill with tears. You hadn’t answered his calls, or texts, or emails, or DMs, or anything. You completely shut him out and he had no idea why the girl he was beginning to fall for was icing him out. You didn’t even give any warning signs. You just—stopped trying.

Truth be told, you saw the comments on Instagram. The comments left in your DMs and the way you had to private your account because you were tired of being compared to more beautiful girls, getting called a slut and a puck bunny, that you weren’t pretty enough for him. And a large part of you knew that that was true. He must be blind, right? Something must be wrong with his brain to look at you rather than the millions of prettier girls that walked across campus clad in his jersey and having no hesitation to tell him that they should be together.

Which brings us to the inevitable question: if the relationship was going so well, if you felt like you could trust him, like he could be the one, why the hell were you icing him out? 

You were embarrassed. You were embarrassed that their comments were getting to you, that they were true, and that if he saw them, maybe he’d think they were right. Because why was he with you? It just didn’t make sense—to anyone.

“This was a bad idea,” you whispered, hiding yourself under the hood of your hoodie, willing yourself not to look at him but rather the wooden floor beneath you. 

His brows pulled in. “Don’t say that.” He wanted to see you, to see that pretty perfect face he had grown to love so much, but you wouldn’t let him. You were scared that he’d see the millions of flaws you saw on yourself. His hands dipped out of his pockets, trying to pull your hands to his, but it was as if you were like water, slipping out of his fingers like they were the last thing on earth that you wanted to touch. “Baby, please. Please just look at me,” he pleaded. 

Your tears managed to escape as you sniffled, running the back of your hand against your wet nose and back into the expanse of your long sleeves. “I can’t do this. You shouldn’t be with me.”

You knew that this was the best thing to do, even if you hated every second of it. You knew Will was tearing himself apart right in front of you, but it was the best thing for him, too. No more you, no more hate comments, no more bad press. He could go back to how he was before you, the way things should’ve stayed.

“Just let me in, okay?” his eyes were red and this was like torture to you. You didn’t want to hurt him, which is exactly why you were doing this. You saw the way his shoulders slumped after every game, the way he closed himself off to the boys whenever you were near, the way the team side eyed you at every social event. You were the problem. And the only way to make the problem go away was to subtract the numbers. “You’re not telling me everything, I know that. We can work this out, baby. Come on.”

You bit your lip so hard you swore you drew blood. “I’m sorry.” And you knew your next words were gonna hurt the both of you, but you also knew that it was something both of you had to hear, no matter how badly it was gonna sting. “But I can’t do this. I don’t want to be with you, Will, and I think you should leave.”

He felt his heart beat out of his chest. There was no way you were saying that; not after everything that’s been going so well. Had he been imagining it? The laughter, the kisses, everything you told him—had it all been some sort of lie? He doubted everything, but at the same time, he knew you. You hated liars almost as much as you hated spiders. So why were you doing this? Why were you wrecking everything you two had created these past couple of months?

“Baby,” he stepped closer as you mirrored his movements, taking a step back and watching his hopeful spirit die. “Everything is nothing without you. You’ve gotta believe me. If there’s something happening you can tell me—you can tell me anything, okay?”

“I don’t want you anymore.”

[heartcereql]

bel air

✩ lo’ak sully x fem!omaticaya!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- no words were ever needed between lo'ak and you. just you were enough for each other.

𝐂𝐖- english is not my first language, not proofread, nothing really, it's so so so sweet:(

𝐀/𝐍- probably one of my fav songs on the album. | okay so. i'm trying to finish the series before summer. so expect a lot of content. xxx

you paced anxiously around the pod. how long could they take?

the party that the olo’eyktan had taken to one of the raids included today both of his children, one of which happened to be the boy you adored.

anticipation drew you away from whatever task you had going on. you had tons of chores to get done, loads of people to catch u with, lots of gifts to deliver, and your mind was constantly reminding you, trying to, indirectly, tell you to wait. but you couldn't wait to see him.

so, as soon as you distinguished the war party arriving you ran like mad. just in time to watch the harsh expression of the olo'eyktan telling his kids off. and one specific hurt gaze. lo'ak's.

you immediatly wanted to catch up, clean him up and talk to him, but he was suddenly out of sight.

frantically looking for him, you crossed paths with neytiri, who silently nodded, pointing in the direction he had left. your eyes sent her equally silent gratefulness, before heading to where she had indicated.

“lo’ak?” you called softly.

you had barely seen him since he had arrived, and the resentment expression on his face had left you worried.

you heard a muffled “come in”, which you would’ve done anyway.

lo’ak’s face was a mess of paint, tears, sweat and scratches. you approached him and sat down next to him. no more words were needed. he laid his head on your shoulder as you intertwinned your fingers with his.

after a few moments, you turned to face him and pulled him into a hug. your hands around his neck, tracing patterns in his scalp; his own hands were around your torso, gaze buried in the crook of your neck.

"wanna talk about it?" you whispered once you pulled away.

he shook his head, eyes refusing to meet yours. you mumbled the softest "okay" and cupped his face to give his lips a tender kiss.

yet soon drops of warm liquid stained your hands.

"shit" lo'ak muttered, hand immediatly trying to stop the scratch from bleeding any further. but you stopped his hands, motioning for him to stand up and follow you instead.

"please allow me" you joked, though the gentle expression never abandoned your features.

you guided him to the container of aiding supplies. you grabbed a leaf and dropped the remedy in it. carefully, you grazed it upon lo'ak's wound, making him lightly hiss. your other hand went to hold his again.

"i've been waiting to meet you. all day long. glad you're finally here" you hummed.

you then procceeded to place a lotion alongside the scratch, doing so ever so gracefully and tenderly. once you finished, you pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before turning away to clean everything up.

but lo'ak pulled at the hand that still held yours, making you turn to him again.

"you're divine. did anybody ever tell you that?" he murmured.

a smile graced upon your face. your grip on his hand tightened slightly.

you brought his body closer to yours, so close he could smell the rose scent of your skin.

"c'mon, let's get the paint off" you suggested.

but, though he tried to mask it, you didn't miss the way his eyes fell to the floor.

"hey" you said "lo'ak i don't know what happened back there. and i don't need to, not for the point i'm trying to make. it's his loss. okay? and it is definetely not your fault" you finished your words with the most truthful smile.

he tried to reciprocate the smile, but his eyes avoided yours again, shifting his gaze to the side.

"don't be afraid of me; you can trust me. don't be ashamed about whatever he told you. okay?" he nodded, but his eyes still hadn't met yours.

your hands gently lifted his jaw so that his face was directed at yours now, but his gaze was still settled somewhere else.

"lo'ak" you called, trying to get his attention.

it seemed to work, for his eyes finally found his way to yours. eyes that carried hurt. and eywa knows how much you wished you could just take it away from him.

" 'm okay, it's fine-" he tried to mumble.

but you knew it wasn't, so, before he could finish his excuse, you held him again, arms around his torso, bringing him impossibly closer, as his arms embraced you, appreciating the comfort.

you could've sworn this was enough, wanting for life to just eternally loop around this instant.

© heartcereql. all rights reserved.

[r0s3s26]

@blu3cr3am your Match Up is…Yuji Itadori

<3 Yuji would be so perfect for you

<3 He would be such a sweetheart constantly and like your own personal ball of joy

<3 Everyones fav class clowns right here

<3 I headcanon yuji as pansexual or just queer, like I fully think he doesn’t gaf. Like if her thinks your hot your hot

<3 Literally the most gentlest of souls out there

<3 All he wants to do is show you how much he loves you.

<3 Yuji is only rude if they are rude first to him

<3 So you would not have to worry about the way he acts

<3 If yall were to ever get into an argument and he saw you were getting heated he would immediately like stop arguing and try to calm you down the best he can

<3 “Hey Sky its ok, im not upset anymore just take a deep breath for me, ok?”

<3 He is such a green flag

<3 I can’t find any faults about him

<3 Y’alls date nights are 50/50

<3 I think you guys alternate weeks on the things you wanna do together

<3 Like one week yuji is bring you to a new ramen restaurant in the city and showing you around

<3 And the next week you both are cuddled up with pizza boxes and soda cans on the floor around your couch, cuddling watching Saw or Scream series

(My personal favs are the Scary Movie franchise lol)

<3 He would BEGGG you to draw him, like all the damn time

<3 If you were to draw him he would 1.Take a picture and put it on his instagram story being like “My baby drew me and not you >:)” and 2. Ether put it in his phone case if it's small enough, but if it's fairly big he will frame it and put it on his wall.

<3 He would think your so smart(you are)

<3 Like listening to you talk about nature or the human mind would get him like “😍😍😍”

<3 Will share his clothes with you

<3 Like please wear his hoodies like he will melt and give you so many smooches

It was wintertime. The cold of the outside has slowly started to seep into your bones, you shiver, wishing Yuji would hurry up and meet you at the entrance of Jujutsu High. You look at your phone again, 7:30, he's 10 minutes late now. You hope that nothing has happened to him or he didn’t get called for a late-notice mission. “SKYYYYY” you hear someone yell in the distance, and you see a flash of pink and tan running over to you(he is fast as fuk boi). Before you even have time to react to this, Yuji is lifting you and spinning you around like your feather floating through the air(this dude has ungodly strength no matter what you think it's gonna feel like nothing to him). He leans up and kisses you on both of your cheeks “Hi baby, I'm sorry I'm late, Gojo needed me and of course, it took forever” he rolls his eyes “It's okay handsome, I'm just glad you ok” you kiss the top of his head. He sets you back down on the ground but his hands are still around your waist. “Now what ramen place did you wanna show me again?” you say with a bit of a shiver, yuji interrupts you mid-sentence “Sky are you cold?” he says while rubbing up and down your arms. “ I'm a little cold, yes, but not super” you lie through your chattering teeth as the cold starts seeping into your bones, your soul-, “No baby you taking my jacket”. Yuji starts to slip off his jacket, revealing a light zip-up hoodie underneath, “Yuji I couldn’t-” “Stop right there love, this isn’t a debate, you taking it”. Yuji slowly slips the coat onto your frame and immediately you are warmed up, yuji constantly hugging you “I forget how warm you run sometimes” “Yep forever a personal heater”, he turns to you, “Your personal heater” He says with a smirk. You burst out laughing “Is that your attempt to flirt with me?” You start laughing a bit more, yuji looks away a little embarrassed “What Aoi taught me” he grumbles, “Yuji, my handsome boy, never take whatever that man says seriously”. You now take his hand and start walking towards the man road to the downtown area, “Now tell me about this ramen place”

(Author Note: I hope you enjoy<3)

[starabsol]

cs pride headcannons

happy pride month! this is to the gays, lesbians, queers, transgenders, nonbinaries, bisexuals, everyone!!!!! (except homophobes, get away) happy pride month and good job being so fruity! we love u ^_^

ok so basically i have headcanons for my fav pokemon characters, may drew harley n solidad but i never really did much with them but since its literally pride month right now i thought why not draw them? theyre more like chibi attempted weird ass doodles butttttttt

first up, of course, our baby drew.

theres smth about him that just screams transgender.. hes ftm (female to male) since he didnt feel right in his body, but doesnt mind presenting himself in a feminine way. demisexual also because i dont feel like he randomly falls in love with people unless they know them well and have a good bond! and he obviously doesnt care about anyones gender whatsoever, doesnt have a preference either.

he goes by he/they pronouns and would rather not be regarded by feminine names, though he himself doesnt really care about how he appears to others

if someone comes out to drew:

someone: “drew, i have to tell you something.. im lesbian.”

drew: “thats nice”

drew is neutral about this stuff. he simply doesnt mind that much. though inside, secretly, he is pretty proud of whoever comes out to him; he does care.

next up, may!

may is an ally, no doubt. she loves everyone as they are! i debated making her asexual for a hot second, but scrapped it later as i didnt really liked that for her :P

she goes by she/her! she respects everyones pronouns, and if unsure if what pronouns to use she always uses they/them to avoid mis pronouncing. always shows up at pride conventions!

if someone were to come out to may:

someone: “may.. i have to tell you something. im non-binary”

may: “OMG THAT IS SO COOL I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU AND PROUD OF YOU!!!!”

next up, our cunty harley!

hes bisexual and non-binary. he loves both women and men, and simply doesnt give a fuck about (his) gender. he goes by she/he/they pronouns since he really doesnt care what people regard him as. “gender doesnt matter honey!”

he doesnt mind looking feminine or masculine at all, so sometimes u see him skipping around in skirts and the other moment you see him in a suit. and honestly? we love that for him. pop off harley

if someone were to come out to harley:

someone: “hey, harley? can i tell you something? im gay.”

harley: “OOOOOO! so proud of you honey! welcome to the gays!”

and lastly, solidad!

shes a lesbian. i dont care what you have got to say, solidad is a lesbian. she loves women, she loves feminine people. shes also aromantic because i can make her aromantic. she naturally loves platonically, but she can love (and feel) romantically, just not that often.

she herself is also an ally, of course, everyone in these headcanons are, but she is an ally. she supports everyone the way they are, no matter their sexuality, gender, race, background, whatever. she loves everyone. n that goes for may drew and harley also! solidad would probably be the most calm if you were to come out to her, though.

if someone were to come out to solidad:

someone: “solidad? i wanted to tell you that im bisexual..”

solidad: “oh, that’s wonderful! congratulations. i am so proud of you for telling me.”

———————

happy pride month! make sure to love everyone the way they are. love isnt a choice, neither the way you were born or how you feel in your own body! youre good as u are!

im pretty much questioning myself, i mean, im sure im aroace but beside that? no clue. for now id just say im heterosexual, but i havent really fallen for people romantically or sexually so i dont know at all lol

school still isnt over, still have about a month left 💔 i hate the netherlands vacation time so much only 6 weeks for summer break is crazy

[marsskop]

Fav #wh40k character?

Constantin Valdor.

I am simply fascinated by his character (and the way Chris Wraight, in particular, writes him). I could write an essay about Valdor... Instead, have this ramble with a silly pic in the end ;)

Dour, reserved, quietly spoken, intelligent, and dry; preternaturally calm and infinitely intimidating. A man of no pride with one goal in mind. His emotions are etiolated, and emotions of others are hard to decipher. Obsessed with his armor and weapons, as every Custodes is, and obsessed over mistakes that should be fixed.

"You are the bringer of the new age. You are the warden of the old. You are the destroyer. You are the preserver."

The first of the Custodes, supposedly the template for all of them (nature, nurture). He knew more about the Emperor's plans than most. His sole goal is the protection of the Emperor, and he cares not for the Imperium.

The Apollonian Spear, given to him by the Emperor, a restraint that tells stories of the foes Valdor slays (and imagine what happens when he slays daemons). The way he fights -- first, calculating as he stands still, then moving into action in the most optimal way. The inherent symbolism of Custodes armor, and them, in turn, and the connection between a Custodes and their armor.

How Valdor sees that humanity was "bled from" them, their dreams plucked away, their emotions left to wither.

‘What is left for you, Constantin?’ Ushotan breathed, blood bubbling up between his burned lips. ‘What more can He take from you that He hasn’t already?’

Valdor drew in a long breath, then plunged the knife in, ending the primarch’s agony. For a moment he did nothing else, his head bowed, the storm exhausting itself around him and coating the land in a film of pale, drifting grey.

Then, slowly, he withdrew the blade.

‘Nothing,’ he said, very softly. ‘Nothing at all.’

All excerpts are from Valdor: Birth of the Imperium by Chris Wraight. It is an awesome read, I highly recommend it! I'd say it is my favorite book in the whole Warhammer40k (by the number of rereads alone).

Also, have a silly pic.

[milimeters-morales]

okay more pictures I had thoughts about

Starting with these:

This handwriting is diff than how he wrote his name on that scan sheet in so I’m glad I can see his natural handwriting and not the neater one for tests and such, also the 😩 emoji he drew out I’m cryinggggg he’s so silly 😭😭😭 and I loved the little drawings he did in the book too, esp the cute version of the spider and the hearts around the bite!!! His memory is so fucking good too, to be able to remember all the details in the people he’s drawn and a spider he hasn’t seen in a long while (or a few days, idk when he actually drew this part)! Next ! :3

This one is soooo fucking funny to me. Bro can’t stand his ass he really can’t believe this is NYC’s new protector. Miles needed to get charged 50% more for embarrassing himself and by extension me bc I had to defend him here. It is a quick moment with him and Lenny (I think that’s his name?) but I like to think that they know each other, or at least have a friendly relationship for Miles to be so casual about this. If I really wanted to reach, and I do, I would say that he knows it’s Miles lol bc the voice is a dead giveaway.

THIS IS MY FAV PAIR OF PHOTOS TODAY. So I love the squinty then closed eyes, the use of his other powers besides the usual spider-man abilities, AND how he’s using them effectively but ends up indirectly causing a blackout ! Of course this isn’t the way I wanted it to go, I would prefer him being the direct cause in a scenario where maybe he takes the energy or overloads it to the point of a blackout, BUT this was funny, and it was still basically what I really hoped to see! And wasn’t this robot villain super similar to a robot toy either Miles or Ganke had in their dorm room??? can you imagine that the villains have more merch than Miles does and Ganke makes sure to remind him of that 😭😭😭 help

Now listen I think Miles would be ADORABLE. SO PRECIOUS. SO SILLY. with a few hairs actually above his lip. He swears it’s a full on mustache but it looks like he drew it on with eyeliner. Can you imagine how similar he’d look to Aaron when he laughs AND has those few hairs? He’d be ecstatic and would be showing them off to everyone he knows, he’s telling his dad that he’s a man now and can’t be grounded and that his curfew needs to be later, Rio’s probably only egging it on and Jeff is so proud but SO annoyed bc both him and spider-man, by pure coincidence, are starting to act like they’re much more mature and above anything and everybody in the way teenagers are when they reach a milestone, only to still be an anxious teenager underneath the new attitude lol. Also bug eyes :3 you know I love me them bug eyes

And I have no words for this autistic ass smile. “Didn’t know how to smile until I was 8” faceass. “Intelligent young boy but struggling to connect with peers” written on his 3rd grade report card faceass. “Doesn’t get along well with the other boys in class and opts to read instead of participating in recess or class fun” said in the PTC faceass. I don’t even care that this isn’t even his natural smile and he’s rightfully awkward looking here, to me he has been canonically stated to be some form of neurodivergent. Sword slash to the chest. And you’re on fire

[romanarose]

Secret's Out

Art by @runa-falls who drew me and marc lolololol

Join my taglist!

Masterlist

Brother Best Friend!Marc Spector x fem!reader

Summary: Marc is your brothers roommate and best friend in college. When you attend the same school, you meet and fall in love with Marc Spector. You both try to keep it a secret, for fear of what he'll say... eventually though, the secret comes out.

Warnings: Brief smut, readers brother drinks alcohol, protected creampie, mentions of oral.

Immersability: Reader is not Jewish, or least knows nothing about holidays as she tries to learn. Picture above does nothing to describe reader, including height, I just thought it was cute and Em let me use it lol. Reader is fem and AFAB

A/N: Although I know no one owns the idea of collage AU's, I think in this fandom it's safe to say that @juneknight is a big inspo for a lot of us writing college au marc. June had said she doesn't mind other people writing college marc but I still wanted to give her credit for it as that series is something I love v v v much and is a fandom fav. If you havn't read any of it, check em out. June is amazing. Als, I feel like i've had similar conversations with people in different discord servers about this concept but I can't remember who or who said what? but y'all know how those convos go, everyone throwing things in. If you feel i ripped of something you said, know it was on accident and i can give you creds as well!

1.5k words

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Sex on a dorm bed was hard enough, but Marc insisted he wanted the bed raised so he could fit his mini fridge under there. 

And a pile of fucking junk, but thats neither here nor there. Marc looked like he packed up all his personal belongings into plastic bins. He must live far away, because he never went home, not even over thanksgiving break and he paid the extra money to stay over winter break coming up, citing he was Jewish so he didn’t really need to be home for christmas. But what about new years? And he never felt for Jewish holidays either. You know, because you had been looking into them all in order to properly greet him. 

A few weeks into classes your first year, your older brother introduced you and let you hang around them while you got oriented in your new school. You had told Marc ‘Happy Yom Kippur’ to which he politely smiled and thanked you, only for you to find out later that ‘happy’ wasn’t exactly the right verbiage. So, you did your best to research. It wasn’t until you were intently watching youtube videos on what everything on a passover seder symbolizes that you realized how hard you had fallen for him.

Lucky for you, your interest and effort had endeared you to him just as much. He fought his feelings for a long time. Your brother, AJ, had been his roommate freshman year and all four years since, and there was no goddamn way on this planet he’d let Marc date you, always telling you which guys to stay away from. He was one of those guys, wasn’t he? So he tried his best to avoid you.

Fate had other plans, a normal day where you showed up at their room looking for AJ had ended with you both tumbling into bed, starting a secret little affair. Marc was good at what he did, opening you up with his fingers first and spending so long with his head between your legs you wondered if he was even planning on getting off at all. But he did, oh god he did, blowing his load inside you and you both came with a loud groan that caused the next door neighbors to bang on the adjacent wall telling you to shut the fuck up.

So started your dirty little secret, sneaking fucks in where you could, hooking up in the public bathroom next to the laundry room, quick kisses in unused classrooms. There was one time AJ was supposed to be gone for a 3 hour class, and walked in unceremoniously as Marc was balls deep inside you, the jingle of the keys and the sound of the key in the door only barely giving Marc enough time to throw you under the covers. AJ was quick to realize Marc had a girl in his bed, closing the door. Covering your mouth, Marc slowly began fucking you as he told AJ the come back later, AJ giving him some good-natured ribbing before announcing he would be at the dining hall. You were back on the verge of an orgasm by the time he left the door, the thrill of near getting caught culminating in cumming hard enough you bit Marc’s hand that still covered you.

 It was hard, you wanted to be out. Marc wanted to show you off, to show all the assholes in school how you, YOU were willingly dating him. Prettiest damn thing he’d ever seen. And you, you just wanted everyone to know who you belonged to. You knew Marc had a reputation, and you knew being his girl, you were safe.

Most of all, outside of the public image, you just wanted to be able to be together.

You helped Marc climb back on the bed despite the fit of laughter. After he finished, Marc rolled off you, but seemed to forget you were on a twin bed and promptly fell off. That’s where the bed being raised came in, adding a few feet for him to drop down. You would like to have thought you would have been a concerned girlfriend, but once you saw he didn’t land on his face or anything you couldn’t stop laughing, especially at his grumpy frown. Fucker was funny as shit without trying to be.

When he finally climbed back up, you two cuddled back under the covers and you began to kiss away his frown lines all over his face until they eased in a smile, kissing you back.

“I love you, you know.”

You did. You knew that with your whole heart. “Love you right back, Marc Spector.”

It wasn’t two minuets later when AJ walked in to see you laying on top of Marc, only covered by the blanket, he quickly closes his eyes. 

“GOD DAMMIT! WHAT THE FUCK!” He shouts, Marc quickly pulling the blanket up more and rolling over to cover you with his body. 

“GET OUT!”

“YEAH NO SHIT, SICKOS.”

AJ left, going to the lounge and you knew it was over. He knew it was you. You were shaking, your anxiety through the roof and Marc tried to calm you.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, I’ll take the blame-”

“WHY WAS THE DOOR UNLOCKED!” You scream.

“I’m sorry, I forgot!” 

“I WAS ON TOP MARC, IF HE HAD WALKED IN HE WOULD HAVE SEEN ME NAKED! ANYONE COULD H-HAVE WALKED I-I-I-IN!!”

Marc took your face in hands, sitting up and gently coaxing you. “Hey, baby, look at me.” You open your eyes, lost inside his and you knew you were safe. “I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry. But you’re safe, it’s going to be okay. I swear. I’ll never forget to lock the door again, I promise.”

Tearful, you express your fears. “I don’t know if there’s going to be a next time.”

Marc’s soft eyes are in contrast to his tense face. “You’re a grown adult, baby. He might not like it, but he can’t stop us.”

“But he’s going to be mad at you! He’s your…”

He chuckled. “My only friend?”

“Your best friend.” You correct.

With a sign, he strokes your face, knowing you both had to go out there and face him soon enough. “You’re worth it, okay? Whatever happens, you’re worth it.”

Overcome with emotions, you tuck your head into Marc’s neck. “It’ll be okay.”

You both got dressed, Marc opening the door to the loud, his body symbolically in front of you. Neither of you thought that there was any chance your brother would hurt you, but it was the gesture and what it meant. Marc would always be your protection.

“J, listen man, I can explain-”

“C’mon dude, all you had to do was text me to stay out so I don’t have to walk in on you fucking my sister.”

Everyone was quite, that wasn’t the response they were expecting. “I wasn’t- we weren’t- we were done,”

You smack Marc’s arm, whispering ‘gross’ and then look to AJ. “So you’re not… mad? You sounded mad…”

“I was mad because it was nasty, I don’t need to see that. I don’t give a fuck what you guys do.”

Marc was hesitant, but you moved out from behind Marc to join at his side. He spoke next. “You don’t care?”

AJ laughed. “I don’t care for her,” He clarified, smiling. “For you.” AJ pushed past both of you and made his way to Marc’s minifridge, stealing a beer.

“What does that mean?” Marc asked, incredulous and only semi-distracted by his roommate's theft. Bigger fish to fry.

“I mean,” AJ finished the beer and handed the can to Marc. “You know she cries every time she watched Revenge of the Sith, right?”

Marc turned to you and you shrug. “They were brothers, Marc!”

AJ continued. “She once cried because she wanted to make pasta but we didn’t have sauce. Like laid down on the kitchen floor and cried.”

“I was hungry and to broke to order food!”

“I offered to drive you to walmart!”

“I was tired!”

“You she bites her toe nails”

Marc jumped back in. “that’s why you’re so flexible”

AJ had enough “DISGUSTING! GET OUT! OUT!” He pushed you both out of the room he claimed you had defiled. “Go be disgusting elsewhere, sickos.” He slammed the door in your face as you laughed, giddy that the secret was out and it went well.

“Well, that was not what I expected?” You wrap your arm around his middle, walking towards the elevator. 

“Yeah… I thought I was about to get decked.”

Just then, you hear your brother scream your name down the hall.

“Y’ALL BETTER GET YOUR GODDAMN NASTY ASS UNDERWEAR OUT O HERE WHAT THE GODDAMN FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

Marc turned to you. “You forgot your underwear?”

“I WAS PANICKED!” You defended yourself. “I COULDNT FIND THEM AND IM IN LEGGINGS SO I JUST ASSUMED I WENT COMMANDO.”

Sex was moved to your dorm from then on.

******************************

Sorry this came to me today again and i had to write it.

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @scarletthefierce @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @missdictatorme

[skitskatdacat63]

Mark Alan, Count of Queanbeyan

+ explanation & lore

Okay first I'll explain the drawing itself, and then go into Mark's lore a bit, so stay with me!!!

First of all, yep. Mark with long hair. When I first conceptualized how he'd look in this au, I just genuinely could not imagine him with the typical long curly wig. And that irked me, bcs its just sooooooo historically inaccurate for him to have had short hair, no wig. I sketched him and Jense out as chibis, I drew Mark with short hair, and literally wrote "haha wow he looks so bad with long hair!!" Hello, can I take back that statement? It's actually shocking how good he looks???? Maybe it's a testament to my skill that I could make this work. But I did! And man, shameful to admit, but this might be my best portrait ever 😭😭 Funny tho, guy I've barely drawn, and never as detailed as this, ends up being one of my favs. Mark, you bastard!!

^ lmao as you can see, I tried out a more Seb type wig and then realized ahhhhh nah, he needs a different style. And it worked so, yay!!! I've thought a lot recently, "man it would suck back then if you looked shitty in a wig" and I rescind that. I'm telling you, you think a man would look bad in a wig? I say think again, you're just not conceptualizing the right type of wig for him.

Also wow, its crazy thst I can finally actually visually see what he would look like next to others like Seb and Fernando in this au. Hehehe look at them!!! The boys!!!! Just need Jense :,)

Anyways, I digress, some lore notes about Mark since I don't think I've really talked about him in this au on main much.

He is, of course, Seb's closest servant. His Groom of the Bedchamber(yes that term makes me feel rabid.) He's actually also based on a real guy, whom was described as the Emperor's "favorite" and despite not technically having very important positions, he had a lot of influence because of his closeness and connection with the Emperor. So, yeah, I think that's gives a pretty good pic of Mark in this au :)

He's actually pretty satisfied with his role, but he does feel a bitter and jealous when interacting with others like Jenson and Fernando. Because Mark doesn't have a title, well not in the same way. He's a count, not a King, not a Prince. Yes he's nobility, but not in the same way. And he's satisfied being under Seb, because that's what Mark was raised to do, take care of and keep Seb in line. But often realizes he's never going to be on par with him, not in the same way Fernando can, even if he's Seb's closest confidant.

To build on that. He's very satisfied with his role, and even continues to be satisfied when Fernando comes into the picture. Fernando and Seb don't get along, Mark is always going to be the closest to Seb, always going to know him the best, take care of him the best. But he realizes, he would never get to marry Seb, he's not ranked high enough for that. He was raised to do what's best for the Emperor, he's never going to be able to compete with Seb the same way Fernando can. He really wants Seb and Fernando to succeed! To grow closer! But it still really hurts sometimes.

His closest friend, other than Seb, is Jenson of course(and eventually Fernando, after they stop growling at each other like they're Seb's dogs.) But he does get bitter about Jenson sometimes. Jenson is a prince, who had some great performances in battle. But eventually got tired of that lifestyle, and "retired" to being part of Seb's court. Mark can't really understand that. How do you throw that level of prestige and freedom away. How do you just become the Emperor's servant, when that was never what you were born for. But also, I think Jense definitely uplifts him, they just get along so well, and Jense truly cares for him, no other motives :)

LOL sorry I realize how depressing this sounds 😭 I think all of the above is just Mark at his most bitter, but he's genuinely pretty happy. Think of the whole "not bad for a number 2 driver thing", that's him in this AU. He knows his station, and god damn it, he's gonna be the best, most loyal groom there ever was!! He just cares for Seb so deeply, and it truly is his life path to serve him. Seb cares for him too, feels like he can always rely on him and always be reassured by him and his eternal presence in Seb's life. It's nice to have someone you can always fall back on. Sometimes literally. Yes he makes Mark carry him to bed.

Not to stray away from just Mark, but aaaaahhh the Martian in this AU. Just Mark having to put up with Seb's brattiness all the time, and care for him all the time :) He's so tired of catching Seb naked tho...Seb please put clothes on, this is not befitting of your station. Seb takes Mark with him everywhere, and they share the same bed on trips. Mark is always the first Seb goes to to ask his opinion. I said earlier that Mark feels like he cannot challenge Seb in the same way Fernando can, but Seb really wants him to honestly! He loves hearing Mark's thoughts and opinions. Mark is widely known as Seb's favorite, and is often seen as the second authority in the palace and in the court.

As for Webbonso? I think they really dislike each other in the beginning just because the roles that they're in. They both feel like they're pitted against each other, and ir doesn't help that Seb loves to tease them and often favor one in front of the other(he later realizes how shitty this is, and tries to rectify it, because he never intended to make them actually jealous, he just loves being bratty.) Eventually they realize they're in extremely similar situations(both beholden to and stuck eternally with the Emperor), and find comfort in each other in that.

Yep that's right...the palace is honestly one big polycule djkfkglg. But I hope thay explains Mark in this AU well enougg???? All you need to know: Seb's long-suffering servant.

[geekywritings]

The stories that scars can tell

You guys are incredible! Just as I am working through last week’s requests, there are already new ones in my inbox. Thank you again for all your inspiration and encouragement. And of course, all requests will get a story!

But first, here is another one from last week: “You icon, it’s your fav anon again hehehe. So you are the best place to req for Cal so here’s another one 🤭 Cal x reader who has scars and he accidentally psychometry on one and he learns about her traumatic past and the comfort is reallll???”

_________

Cal had always been an early riser, while you preferred to stay in bed just that little bit longer. Now, after you had got together, the Jedi began to lounge in the mornings as well, enjoying that extra bit of time by your side.

He would busy himself studying your face or just closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of your warm body against his until you woke up. It was like a new form of meditation that offered him more calmness and happiness than he had ever thought possible.

This morning however was going to be different. You were still asleep, your nude body cuddled into Cal’s, as he drew lazy circles over your back. He could feel the traces of old scars there, some more faded than others. You were both fighters in this war, so your bodies were bound to carry the marks, but many of yours were older.

You had never spoken of their origin and Cal had never asked, knowing well that some things were better left to rest in the past. Still, sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder what your life had been like before meeting him. Before the rebellion. Before the fall of the Republic.

And just like that, his special Force power activated against his will, as his finger glided over a particularly long scar going from your shoulder down your back.

He found himself in a dark world of metal and strobe lights. Nar Shadaa? Corellia? It was hard to tell. Besides, something else quickly drew his attention. The agonizing screams of a girl, maybe 13 or 14 years old, as she knelt in a puddle of spilled drinks on the ground, shattered glass all around her. It was you, he realized. A younger version of you, to be exact.

“I told you to be more careful!” a tall man behind you yelled, as he hit you repeatedly with his belt. “You are the most useless slave ever! I should just sell you! It would be good riddance!”

Cal’s entire body was shaking with anger and disgust. And instantly, he forced himself to pull away from the vision. As much as he would have liked, he couldn’t pull his lightsaber at the man. An echo was just that, a replay of past events with no way to change them.

“What did you see?”

Your soft voice drew him back into the present and guilt filled him, as if he had invaded your privacy.

“I know that look on your face. You had one of those Force visions.” He had tried explaining them to you and while you could never fully grasp how they worked, you had come to know when they happened.

“I am sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean to…”, he began, the guilt carrying in his voice.

“It’s alright. I know you can’t always control it… What did you see?”, you ended up repeating your question.

“I saw you being beaten… over spilled drinks.”

“Yes, my Master did that quite often.”

“You… were a slave?”, Cal asked hesitantly and you nodded. It wasn’t something you liked talking about, but it was no secret either. And especially the man you loved deserved to know.

“But slavery was forbidden…”

“The Republic didn’t have its eyes everywhere, Cal. And it wasn’t perfect. It tolerated more bad things than you and I can imagine…”, you spoke, adjusting your position, so that you could look at Cal better. “But the Empire is even worse.”, you tacked on, explaining why you were fighting for a Republic that had let you suffer.

“I never knew… I was so blind to a lot of things…” It was something the Jedi learned anew every day. How sheltered his life at the Temple had been. How much the war had covered. How many problems had been left unchecked because there was nobody to take care of them.

“We have the chance to make things better. That’s why we fight, right?” It was the reason you fought, at least.

Instead of answering, Cal pulled you into his arms, holding you close and burying his face in your hair. “I won’t let anyone treat you like that again. I promise.”, he whispered to you and you smiled, a hand gently playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “We will make things better.”, he added on a vow. “For us. For everyone.”

You had no idea how you would manage that. You were but a handful of rebels against the might of an Empire. But right then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered were Cal’s arms around you, making you feel safe, protected and loved.

“We will, Cal. But for now, just kiss me.” And he gladly did.

[cyberdragoninfinity]

If you are bored and genuinely looking for questions, I’d love to know who your favorite yugioh character to draw is! And/or which Yugioh character do you think has the coolest design?

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD QUESTION WAAHH i didnt have time to answer while in airport hell but now i can go ham.....

ugh god it's so hard to pick favorites when it comes to drawing ygo characters... every time i draw someone new i find a new way to do a little something with the design and that's a big part of the puzzlebox fun for me. once i get a good stylization going on a character theyre just locked in my brain as a fav to draw lol. THINKING HARD ON IT THOUGH. HMMM i think my top three favorites to draw are:

Yubel: i dont draw them Too often but i always have so so much fun drawing them, they have so many little design quirks that are such a treat to draw. and i love giving them little fangies <3

Aporia: NATURALLY. i must be true to my heart i absolutely love drawing this monster robot angel. I love pushing his monstery traits into something more animalistic and wild. i love getting crazy with his symbolism and motifs. he is probably my Top favorite to draw BIG SURPRISE I KNOW.

this third spot i think changes and shuffles out often depending on whoever happens to be chewing a hole in my brain at the moment. It's definitely Vector sometimes, especially since he ALREADY LOOKS LIKE DANA FROM ANOTHER DIMENSION DREW HIM!!!! and it is also Primo sometimes too i always have so much fun drawing my pitbull. but i also need to be real it may actually be sora of all characters. especially the way i stylize him. little fat kid i love you.

i drew these very fast and without reference if you couldnt tell <3

"Coolest design" is also SUCH A HARD PICK TOO WAAAHHH I LOVE YGO CHARACTER DESIGN SO FUCKING MUCH. LIKE APORIA IS UP THERE AND NOBODY BUT ME CARES. HES GOT BIGASS CLAWS AND FANGS AND HES 9 FEET TALL.

but also. but also. can i say something. i do genuinely think one of the coolest yugioh designs is declan akaba. i have thought this since 2021.

the color palette is so crisp and so nice. he's got such a striking silhouette with his scarf. red glasses swag. his gay little earrings. S-tier to ME!!!!!!!!

[fnaflucasverse]

Bad Taste In Music

i Cannot believe we get perry and tiger before the guy this au is named after. but that's what happens when you go insane over tiger liking r&b ig! apologies if it's kind of a nothing story and if tigers kind of ooc but i liked writing it. is this canon to lucasverse? idk! is it me having fun with my two fav guys? ya <3 but oh i should not have stayed up this late to finish this.....

Tiger belongs to @fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction

A little while into her training, somewhere above the drum-pounding rhythm of her fists against the punching bag, Peregrine began to hear music.

And it wasn't the good shit she sometimes heard on the truck radio, with crunchy electric guitars and crashing cymbals—it was that sappy, soulful, piano ballad garbage that always made her switch stations. With a groan, Peregrine sped up her jabs, hoping to drown out the din… but like the worst kind of bug, the music wormed its way into her ear, into her brain, and twisted like a knife.

She punched faster, hit harder, felt the pain shockwave from her knuckles up her arm. Even still, Peregrine heard the song.

She grit her teeth against it; the singer's words were indistinct, but the tune carried all the damn same. The more the song grated on, the more fleeting thoughts shot through Peregrine's mind: a kind, smiling face, singing a tender lullaby to a restless toddler and her brother, the feeling of being warm, safe, and—

She couldn’t fucking train to this shit.

With a roar, Peregrine's fist slammed square into her target. The punching bag flew into the air, viciously pulled back to earth by its chain. It swung at Peregrine with a vengeance—but she had already left the gym, stalking through the hallway for her next victim.

The hallway opened up into the living room, where a TV sputtered static at peeling leather armchairs and mismatched chairs gathered around the makeshift dining table. In the center sat the source of the noise: a record player, still crooning away. And sitting in front of it, slumped shoulders shielding Peregrine from the culprit…

Peregrine's lips drew out into a thin line.

Her old man was getting drunk again.

She'd be less surprised if she could see beer cans anywhere, anything to say he’d been drinking the cheap beer he made her restock every other fucking day—but he was staring, gaze empty and distant, at the whiskey bottle strangled in his grip. And if it was whiskey he was drinking—as if the music wasn't a giveaway—he was thinking about her mother.

And he'd promised the Boss he'd stopped.

God-fucking-damnit.

Peregrine stomped up and yanked the needle away from the record with a satisfying screech.

Tiger spun around, hand instinctively reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. Peregrine crossed her arms, watching him recognize her, freeze, and sink back into the chair, shaking his head. “Jesus, Lee, you don’t just…" Alcohol coated his breath. “You’re done early.”

“I’m taking a break." Peregrine jerked her chin towards the record player. “Where the hell did you get that?"

Tiger's head swiveled towards it like he'd forgotten it was there. "That's just… something I found in the old stash." He set the bottle down, rubbing the back of his head like a kid caught with his hand in Dad's wallet. "Just thought I'd fix it up, see if it still works… Could sell it, you know; people collect this sort of—sort of thing and…"

He trailed off as Peregrine picked up the record to frown at the label. Who the hell was Whitney Houston? "Uh-huh. And you found this with it, too?" Perry tried twirling the record on her finger—

Her father snatched it faster than she could blink. "Lee, you don't play with things you could break," he scolded.

Peregrine rolled her eyes. He'd never stopped telling her off and never would until he dropped dead, and even then he'd probably return as a ghost to tell her off even more. She swiped his whiskey and hopped up on the table, resting her bored chin in her palm as he watched him hunt for the sleeve to return his record to. Bottle was half-empty. Peregrine watched Tiger carefully slide the record back into place, spying the tracklist on the back. Ugh. 'Love' this, 'Love' that. It made her want to throw up.

“You actually like this kind of shit, old man?" she snorted, only half in disbelief.

“She’s a very talented singer,” Tiger defended, closing the record player with a click. His eyes clouded. "Anyway, it was—it… belonged to your mother."

Peregrine shut up. Tiger took it as an invitation to continue whatever 'when we were all younger but especially you' spiel he had ready to vent. “You know, Lee…,” he began, clearing his throat, an uncomfortable phlegmy sound.

Peregrine's eyes drifted to the ceiling. Better to let him talk. He'd get it all out of his system, and she'd go dump whatever whiskey was left down the drain.

"You know… your mother used to sing these songs to you, get you to sleep easier. I don't think you remember any of it—you would've been five or so—but…" A nostalgic, weary smile crossed her father's face, always a little alarming to see nowadays. "God, there were days when you would just not go to sleep! Neither could we. You used to be scared of every little thing, just crying and crying—"

"That's gotta be bullshit," Peregrine grumbled.

"—We were really worried about you, Lee," he continued. "But then Jaq figured out you liked being sung to—especially this one song—what was it—'The Greatest Love Of All?' But that was the year…" The smile melted from Tiger's face, turning into a familiar frown. "Anyway, that's when Ms. Houston herself helped out," he said, giving the record player a firm pat.

Peregrine felt cool, smooth glass in her hands, the swirling weight of the whiskey, the gnawing of memories as they scratched at her skull.

The smiling face. The gentle voice. The feeling of warmth and safety and…

And love.

There was a strange knot in her throat.

"Yeah, yeah," Peregrine abruptly snapped, rocketing to her feet, "and when Panther gets back, he'll want to know why the hell you lied to his face. So just gimme that—" she grabbed the record and bundled the player under her arm— "I'll get rid of it." She glared at Tiger, his expression flashing through bitterness, guilt, resignation… "Drink some water. And take a fucking nap; you're being pathetic," she cut into him, whiskey bottle hanging from her fingers.

He didn't meet her eyes.

"'Night, old man," Peregrine muttered, and strode away.

She didn't head back to the gym.

She didn't get rid of her contraband.

She headed straight to her room, shoved them both under her bed, poured the bottle's contents out the window, and curled up on her mattress, letting second by second tick agonizingly by. And when, and only when the world was nothing but darkness, Peregrine retrieved the record player, cranked the volume as quiet as it could go, and, as Whitney's voice crackled softly, she let her eyes slip shut.