#hope you enjoyed lol

[14th-century-verona-queer]

Sokka Headcannons

pt 2!

As always i remind you all that I’ve not watched atla in genuine years, please correct me for any wrong information

On to the hc’s!

he’s secretly a VERY good singer. Kya used to teach him how to sing when he was younger in order to do simple prayers and rituals asking the spirits to keep Hakoda safe and bring back a successful hunt. Sokka would sit next to her, looking up starry-eyed at the beautiful melodies that would come out of his mothers’ mouth. He would spend all day practicing, humming the tunes to himself, trying to get them perfect, and at night would run up to his mother with a hushed “look look mom! Listen to this!” And sing it right, note for note. And she would smile and say “very good, sokka. You might even be better than me some day!” And sokka would always grin at the thought of finally, I did something right! And now mom’s proud of me. After Kya’s death, he spent months without singing. He would train all day and almost all night to try to be better, be faster, be stronger. One day after he finished his night training, he heard Katara wake up and screaming from a nightmare. He pulled Katara onto his bed, lay her head on his lap, and stroked her hair while he sang softly to her. Kya’s lullabies one of the few things that he remembers about her, and it’s the only thing that would calm Katara down. He’s still sort of embarrassed about his singing voice, so no one but Katara knows how good of a singer he is until one day Zuko wakes up from a nightmare. He put’s Zuko’s head in his lap, just like he used to to Katara, and starts singing a low, haunting melody in his native language (more on that next), and Zuko looks at him suprised, but then slowly relaxes and falls asleep with a smile on his face. After that night Zuko begs over and over for Sokka to sing for him some more which is rare because Zuko isn’t usually very pushy. I guess he liked his singing. It’s mostly because of the look on Sokka’s face when he sings and how pretty he looks and how well he sings and wow hes just really pretty oh my god and it makes zuko lose his fucking mind. Eventually the rest of the Gaang finds out (after a very very long time), and sometimes certain words, (or even just randomly he’ll remember) will remind him of a song and he’ll just quietly hum or sing and everyone stops and stares for a second cause damn sokka thats rlly pretty youre acc rlly good

(Ive seen this headcannon that all the nations have their respective native languages, and then a universal language used for trade and all that, so this stems from that ) Sokka slips back into his native language a lot and switches between his native language and the universal language a lot (kinda like Spanglish lol). Bc of this everyone in the Gaang knows enough of the language to have a conversation (especially Suki and eventually Zuko because teaching people he dates his native language is just?? Rlly important to him? He wants to share everything about their culture and teach his partners about how see this word actually can’t be translated to Universal Language, but its really versatile and here’s the whole history of how this word was created. He really loves language and learning so he wants his partners to enjoy it too) he mostly slips back into the language out of force of habit, but also makes a conscious effort to speak it to make sure he doesn’t forget his culture and remind people that the water tribe’s aren’t savages, they have genuine spoken languages and converse like normal people. Whenever he and Katara are fighting they’ll fight very fast and unintelligiblyin their native tongue so everyone else is just kinda trying to figure out what they’re arguing about lol.

after everyone made fun of his art skills you know DAMN WELL he learned how to draw after that. Brother was up at DAWN learning the basic elements of art so he could show up with a Mona Lisa next time the Gaang got together and wipe the smirks off their faces (and ofc Zuko hung up every single one of his drawings, no matter how messy or fast or bad, in the palace)

HE BUILT A STATUE OF KATARA. SOMEWHERE. (I haven’t watched LOK but ik that there are statues of the Gaang around!) if there’s one thing that that man loves, its his sister. He will CONSTANTLY remind everyone. “UHM YEA, ALL YOU WOMEN TRAINING IN BATTLE IN THE NORTH POLE??? DONT FORGET WHO YOU OWE THAT TO. YEA. MY WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL AMAZING (but dont tell her i said that abt her) SISTER DID THAT. AND DONT YOU DICKWADS FORGET IT”

And yea, thats all i got for now lol

You can find part 1 here (cause its been a month since the first one): pt1

[bigdumbbambieyes]

to love Billy is to feel the warmth of the sun in the dead of winter

the secret smiles and lonely blue of his eyes; Steve’s enraptured

for eternity, he hopes to love and be loved by Billy

he’s sure he’s loved Billy long before they existed and he knows he’ll love him long after, too.

[crow-talks-hockey]

Killing Strangers - an Avalanche mob/gang au from multiple POVs (this one is Georgie and Nate's)

Alexandar hissed in a breath as a blade just grazed his side. The fighter before him lunged forward with their knife again and he sidestepped, seizing the advantage by grabbing their arm and wrenching it upward. The attacker let out a shriek and their weapon clattered to the concrete. Alex nearly smiled and he threw them to the ground, pinning them by the arm against the asphalt. Distantly, his shoulder blade twitched with pain. This had been a surprise jumping. Out of the bat his attacker had stabbed their blade into Alex’s back. Now, despite it not going too deep, the pain was obvious as Alex fought to keep the fighter down. He could feel blood trickling down the small of his back.

Alex pulled back his free hand and his attacker’s face paled. Their nose shattered upon impact and they went limp, unconscious. Alex breathed heavily, and he slowly and mechanically relaxed his muscles before shoving the fighter against the ground once more out of spite. He stood and pushed back the strands of brown hair that had fallen across his face. He undid his ponytail and redid it again so that they were out of his face completely. Then, he started his walk to Pavel’s. The wound on his back was something he couldn’t stitch himself.

Alex winced and pulled out his phone. He quickly texted Pavel and let him know he was on his way. His phone buzzed again and Alex couldn’t help but grin at the medic’s response. They were lucky to have him. He was too kind for his own good. Alex stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and motioned for a taxi. He waited, eyes darting left and right cautiously, before ducking inconspicuously into the car and telling the driver where to go. 

Alex leaned back on the seat uncomfortably and the driver questioned, “Rough night?”

Alex’s expression hardened and he looked out the window. He nodded curtly before realizing the driver wouldn’t be able to see and he hesitantly responded, “You could say that.”

“I hear the streets are getting more and more dangerous. Lots of bad things on the news lately. Seems like them gangs are starting wars again. Ruining men’s chances to get an honest living by corrupting these cities with their filth. All the smuggling and fighting… It’s disgusting.” 

Alex quickly began to zone out from what the driver was rambling about. 

The man continued on and on, “Y’know there was a time when this city was clean. Then some nobody’s up and decided they run the place. Can’t get anywhere without coming into contact with ‘em nowadays. They’ve got the city right under their thumb, too.”

Alex resisted the urge to bash his head into the seat. He rolled his eyes.  

“So you best be careful, young man—,” the driver looked through his mirror and reconfirmed himself— “you do seem young, at least to me. Y’hear that? Mister?”

 “Sure,” Alex agreed begrudgingly, fighting not to laugh at the sheer irony of the conversation. Oh, how this old man would freak if he found out Alex had just been stabbed. And that he was one of those “nobody’s” that was waging war in the city. Part of him wanted to tell the driver just to scare him, but that would be cruel and Alex wasn’t a particularly cruel person. At least, he didn’t think.

The rest of the ride was blessedly quiet, the driver humming along to the radio or nodding when a bit of news came on. So, Alex was left with his thoughts and the insistent pain in his left shoulder blade. The last week had been busy, almost disorganized. Gabe had lost his shit ever since Nate almost died, and now everything was pointing towards another war between gangs. There’d been more and more of those lately. People were hungry for money, land, power, anything. The dam was going to break eventually, Alex just had to hold his breath and pray they’d all come out of it in one piece. 

“Alrighty, here’s the place,” announced the driver, snapping Alex from his thoughts.

The taxi’s wheels came to a halt against the grainy asphalt and Alex was quick to get out of the vehicle. He eyed the blood on the back of the seat warily and  looked away. Best not make the driver suspicious, and better that he be long gone before anyone noticed it. He slammed the door shut and the man rolled down his window. Alex looked at him perplexed. This guy would not leave him alone, would he? He cast his eyes heavenward. Might as well entertain him, it wasn’t like he was bleeding out or anything.

“You be careful, alright, son?”

More lecturing? Son? He wasn’t that young. Alex did his best to give the man a convincing nod. Finally the taxi driver rolled his window up and drove away. Alex sighed. Civilians. He quickly turned on his heel and knocked on Pavel’s door. Alex gripped the rail of the fence around the patio and leaned on it heavily. The stab wound was starting to be incredibly painful. It wasn’t the worst he’d ever been stabbed, certainly not the most fatal, but still. It was getting very annoying.

After a few moments Pavel’s kind, bearded face appeared in the door and Alex gave him a weak smile. Pavel extended his hand to Alex and he took it, leaning on the medic for support as he made his way to the medical room. “Where?” questioned Pavel gently.

“Left shoulder blade. Stab wound, but it’s not deep. I just can't reach there myself, I wouldn’t have come to you if I could.”

Pavel nodded and shuffled through his medical bag. “I know.”

Alex felt his cheeks pink slightly and he looked away. Pavel motioned for him to sit on the metal table at the center of the room and Alex followed. Pavel crossed to the counter and set out his equipment. Without looking up from the counter Pavel commanded, “Shirt. Off.”

Alex stiffened. Oh yeah. That. Slowly, he undid his dress shirt buttons and hissed in a breath at the cool air on his wound. Pavel went to work immediately, doing his best to be gentle as he applied alcohol to Alex’s cut so it would be clean. Before the medic could begin stitching, Alex asked, “You have whiskey?”

Pavel straightened, and he set down his tools. “Yeah. I’ll get it. Sorry.”

Alex shook his head and reassured, “No, you’re fine. It’d just be nice to ease the pain.”

“I understand—” Pavel handed Alex the glass of whiskey and continued— “This week has just been wild for me. I think it has for all of us… Nate’s been giving me a lot of worry. It’s stressful, do you get that?”

Pavel sounded so tired, his Czech accent soft and warm. Alex loved how he talked, it reminded him of his own home in Bulgaria. Sure, many of the others had accents of their own, but no one’s hit quite as close as Pavel’s did. It was comforting to have someone so much like him around. There was a level of admiration and respect between them that went unparalleled, especially with their experience in the medical field. In many ways they were as close as Mikko and Artturi were. They were bound together. At least, that was how Alex felt. He could only hope Pavel reciprocated.

Alex nodded slowly and thoughtfully as Pavel went back to stitching his wound. He took a long drink of his whiskey and tried to ignore the feeling of Pavel’s fingers just barely brushing against his skin. He sucked in a breath at the sting of his skin being pulled back together. He could feel so much, it was torturous. Part of him wanted to swear or scream despite Pavels’ delicateness, and the other part wanted to find comfort in one of his embraces. Alex shut his eyes. He needed more whiskey after this. Maybe he could invite Pavel… no. No, that was absurd.

Alex forced himself to speak again, responding to the question that had long since floated away into oblivion, “ I get why you’re so worried. Nate must be difficult to work with, yes? I don’t know him all too well, but he seems… stubborn.”

Pavel laughed. “Stubborn— stubborn doesn’t quite get it all. He’s determined, passionate, I think. He’s odd.” Pavel finished stitching and stepped back. “Don’t get too intimidated by him though. He loves this group, even when he doesn’t act like it.”

“Oh. I see. Do you see him often?” Alex asked.

Pavel shrugged and grinned faintly. “Too often. I’m sure you’re aware of how much he tends to draw in trouble. It’s alright, though. If I’m being honest I don’t mind the work. Keeps me busy.” The medic fell quiet for a moment before adding, “This last injury, though… it was different. I’ve never had someone that bad before. I mean, he was hardly breathing by the time Cale got here. I’ve never saved a life before.”

Alex wrung his hands together, and he looked down almost guiltily. Nate was a sensitive subject, maybe Alex shouldn’t have brought it up… he was doing this wrong. He and Pavel were barely even friends, he was too new.  He shouldn’t be trying to push further into Pavel’s day to day life, it was rude. Alex stood and flexed his shoulders a bit, and he turned around searching for where he’d tossed his shirt. Pavel was studying him intently, eyes glinting with something warm but untouchable… admiration? No, Alex was just imagining things.

He cleared his throat, ignoring how hot his cheeks were getting. “Shirt?”

Pavel snapped to attention and he laughed nervously, grabbing Alex’s bloody shirt off of the counter. He handed it to Alex and looked as casually and respectfully away as possible, clearly flustered. Alex grinned as he slipped the button-up back on, mind reeling. Could he seriously be wrong about Pavel? About them as friends? Alex finished buttoning up his shirt and readjusted the collar. Might as well shoot his shot. “Hey,” began Alex, heart racing as he gently rested his fingers on Pavel’s crossed forearm, “do you…? Do you want to go get a drink?”

***

Nate wanted to fight someone. It was a constant thing. Every time his wounds ached or his skin flexed too tightly across his stitches, the ungraspable anger seized his thoughts. He couldn’t do anything, however, not like this. That was even more infuriating. Nate felt like a child, being told what he could and couldn’t do by Gabe and Pavel. So, Nate spent his time pacing, constantly in motion and unable to find any rest. He knew it was worrying Cale, but honestly, what else was he to do? He was bound to that warehouse and unable to leave. He was always being watched by Cale, Pavel, or someone else that Gabe sent his way. They’d tried to entertain him by offering to do what he wanted, but Nate had been too busy giving the world the cold shoulder to pay them any attention. Maybe he deserved being treated like a child, he was acting like one. Nate didn’t care.

Nate walked back and forth across the wide open part of the section of warehouses they were staying in. It was a gloomy day, the sky grey and the air cool. It was going to rain soon. This part of the city was pretty deserted, mostly just big buildings and ports stacked tall with shipping containers. This one was mostly empty, cleared out a long time ago after a fire had destroyed most of the interior. No one had used it in years, the evidence in the shattered windows and ashen beams. It was a good hideout, the best option other than Pavel’s place to lay low. Nate breathed in the scent of the coming rain and looked out across the port. He leaned heavily on the frame, body aching with a consistent pain just as it had for the past week and a half. He should sit.

Nate turned and looked at Cale, who had a book in hand and was watching him casually. This was the most comfort they’d both had ever since he’d nearly died, but still the room felt tense. Cale had been a bit defensive, reserved. More than usual. Though, that was partially Nate’s fault. He’d lost count of how many times he’d snapped out of pure stress and exhaustion. He probably needed to apologize for that. Maybe he would when he felt better. However petty that was. Nate’s footsteps echoed as he made the long stretch back to where Cale was sitting, hidden in shadow. Cale stood. 

“Do you need something? Or are you just going to stare at me?” Nate cringed at how blatant the words were, jarringly reminding him that Cale wasn’t here for fun. This was his assignment. A job. This wasn’t some vacation, nor was it a place for them to be off guard.

“No, I just—” Nate rubbed the back of his neck, running his fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck— “I wanted to apologize. I mean, I’m sorry.”

Cale relaxed, albeit only a little, and looked away. “It’s hard, I know. You’ve been through a lot… and I can’t blame you for everything. I don’t mean to seem harsh, it’s just that you— you nearly died. And it seems like you don’t care about that because all you want is to be back in the field. You’ve brushed us off as nothing more than babysitters, as if Gabe wouldn’t have us keeping watch for a reason. We’re here because we care about you. I care about you. It’s not just some assignment. We want to be around you, even if that means giving up a little bit of vengeance to do so… I thought that you’d understand that,” expressed Cale.

“Oh. Cale—” Nate broke off. What was he supposed to say? Like it or not this was his fault. He owed Cale everything, even now. He didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to show up and care for him. No one had ever done that for him. Yet all Nate had done was be selfish and rude. Cale deserved better than what he could offer. Nate sighed. How had this all gone so wrong? If he’d just stayed put—

“Nate,” said Cale gently.

Nate breathed sharply in and turned away, looking out at the port in hope to regather himself. His cheeks heated with shame and guilt, and he rubbed harshly at his misting eyes. This was all wrong. It was all wrong and it was his fault. God, he was tired… everything hurt. It took everything in Nate’s will to not just sit down and cry. It was stupid, but he couldn’t stay like this forever. He couldn’t keep up this facade of a stern character. He couldn’t keep being the hapless fraud he knew he was. 

Then, Cale’s hand was on his shoulder, gentle and jarring. Nate stopped, relaxing as his lips parted slightly. Just tell me you love me. Tell me that you love me even though it might be a lie, Nate’s thoughts urged. Cale moved in front of Nate, his eyes sad and his brows furrowed with concern. Nate closed his eyes and laid his forehead against Cale’s. He pulled the twenty-four year old closer, protectively shielding Cale from the world— or maybe he was just shielding himself. Nate buried his face into Cale’s neck and clung to the fabric of his clothes, desperate to keep him close and safe. He didn’t want to let go. “I’m so fucking sorry,” Nate whispered.

Cale only responded with kindness, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto Nate’s back as he held him tight. Nate let up a bit, distantly noting that he might be embracing Cale too strongly. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” reassured Cale softly, words almost a coo.

“This is all my fault,” murmured Nate, voice breaking and he winced at how small he sounded, “I was stupid. Now everything’s been escalated and I can’t even do anything about it.”

Cale pushed Nate away, expression firm. “This—” Cale gestured vaguely— “isn’t your fault. Were you stupid and stubborn? Sure. But you’re not at fault for this war, they are. We’ll fight through it, we always do. You aren’t doing yourself any good feeling guilty for making a mistake.”

“But—”

Cale batted lightly at Nate. “Were you listening to a word I just said? Honestly, what will it take to get it through your head that it’s alright?”

Kiss me, implored Nate’s thoughts. He looked up from the ground at Cale, eyes silently pleading for something, anything. He wanted feeling, he wanted closeness. He wanted it all; Cale’s gentle touch, his loving looks, how he showed quiet love in the way he gave Nate kisses. He’d ignored and bit at everyone for the past week and a half and now he was done. He was done running, done acting like he was okay. Like this was all alright.

Cale’s already and constantly pink cheeks got deeper. The distance between them was as immeasurable and wide as a void. Nate had caused this. He’d made Cale feel unwanted and unknown. “Say it,” uttered Cale quietly, so soft the words were hardly even a whisper, a single thread of hope.

The air was heavy with tension, sad and longing. How had he fucked up this bad? Nate swallowed his pride and his guilt. “Kiss me—” Nate began, but before he could even finish Cale had already obliged.

This was love and this was loss and this was refinding all in one. This was the giddy joy of their first kiss and the fear that this, in time, could be their last. This was the letting go of grudges and hatred and letting in admiration. This was intense as a fire and as calming as the waters that drown.

Nate didn’t let go. He grabbed at the fabric of Cale’s shirt and tugged him closer with deep intensity. He forgot about his pain and focused on Cale. He closed his eyes and felt the rhythm of an inaudible song that was the up and down of this kiss. Cale’s hand was underneath his shirt and the touch was like sparks of lightning in his veins. Nate pressed his lips firmer onto Cale’s and their foreheads knocked gently together. Subconsciously, he tickled the outside of Cale’s thigh and the twenty-four year old shook slightly at it, his own nerves firing at the sensation. Nate smiled through kisses. Cale had always liked touch more than he cared to admit, especially when it was Nate that was the one doing it.

Slowly they pulled away. “Fuck,” Nate growled and Cale laughed.

Cale’s brow quirked and Nate let him go, Cale landed softly to his feet again. Nate hadn’t even realized that he’d lifted him off his feet. Cale’s hair was messy and he looked up through his blue-grey eyes. “What?” mused Cale, voice like honey as he tried to keep his composure.

“Nothing,” breathed Nate and he pushed back his hair before adding, “It’s just… I missed this. I missed you.”

“Well, you were busy being a jerk, so,” remmarked Cale, only half jokingly. He nodded to himself and then agreed, “I did miss you too, though. I guess.”

Nate grinned and gave Cale one last kiss, he lingered as he pulled away and his smile faded slightly. He observed Cale, his red cheeks and constantly spiky hair. The curious tilt of his head, something Cale had the habit of doing, that showed just how often he was taking in and digesting information. “I really am sorry, Cale,” professed Nate once again.

Cale’s expression softened and he reached up, brushing the side of Nate’s face gently. Nate leaned into the touch as Cale cupped his cheek in his hand. “I know. I know. I’m not going to hold a grudge, Nate. I never would. I love you too much for that,” Cale expressed.

Nate closed his eyes and moved his hand onto the one of Cale’s that was on his cheek, he rubbed it absently. Nate gave the inside of Cale’s palm a kiss. “It won’t happen again.” Cale smiled, blushing deeper, and Nate kissed his hand a couple more times shortly. “Not ever.”

“You’re tired, Nate,” said Cale, almost motherly. “You should get some sleep.”

Nate groaned, “I don’t want to sleep. I want to be here. With you.”

Cale laughed and muttered to himself, Definitely tired, before suggesting, “I could rest with you, if you wanted. There’s an office upstairs with a couch that we could cuddle on where you could nap. Does that sound okay?”

Nate wrapped Cale into a hug. On second thought, maybe he was tired. Nate had the habit of getting incredibly clingy when he was delirious and lacking sleep. And he was definitely being clingy. Nate nodded into Cale’s neck. The twenty-four year old rubbed his hand on Nate’s back and concluded, “That’s what I thought.” 

Nate didn’t move, however. He held Cale fast and felt too tired to let go. Maybe he’d just fall asleep here. “Awwww, you tired thing,” Cale purred and he insisted, “Come on, baby.”

Nate forced his legs to move and he leaned heavily on Cale. He smiled dopily up at him and Cale looked away blushing. Nate just barely heard Cale mutter under his breath, “You’re such a dork.”

Cale half walked, half carried Nate to the office. He sprawled against the armest, letting Nate lay on him and get comfortable. As if Nate could ever get comfortable given that every side of him was bruised, stabbed, cut, or shot right now. Nate buried his head into Cale’s chest, breathing in the smell of Cale’s clothes and the faint traces of cologne. Nate almost laughed. Cale only wore that one for him, it was sweet. Nate wrapped his arms around Cale’s torso, almost able to feel his smooth skin from underneath his dress shirt. Cale played with his hair absently as he stared out the office window, and it sent chills down Nate’s spine. Sleep started falling like a blanket over Nate, and his eyelids became heavy.

Within minutes, Nate was out like a light, breathing in tandem with Cale. This was the most actual rest he’d had in days. Cale was warm and comforting. It made Nate feel safe. For hours, Nate slept relatively soundly. Eventually he’d shifted around and Cale was laying, napping on top of him. Nate didn’t mind, through his dreamless rest he tickled Cale’s back. It was the sound of someone’s voice that woke Cale and he started, sitting up as he blinked away sleep. Nate looked up blearily, brows furrowed with confusion. 

Cale stood and ran his hand through his hair. He redid the top four buttons of his shirt… Nate’s face pinked. He’d forgotten about that. Still tired, Nate giggled and Cale looked at him perplexed. “What?”

“You’re pretty,” sighed Nate, blissfully unaware of what he was saying.

Cale laughed nervously and he rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks deep red. “Stay here,” commanded Cale, changing the subject as he grabbed his gun off the office desk. “It should be Mikko, but best be safe.”

So Nate waited, too sleepy to really move anyway. After a few minutes, Cale reappeared in the doorway. Nate sat up excitedly, as if Cale had been gone for hours. Mikko was behind him, grinning smugly. He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe, blonde curls falling over his scruffy but beautiful face. Nate had always liked Mikko, he was sweet and fun despite his intimidating stature. Yet, he could also hold his own in a fight like no other.

The Finn smiled, teeth stark white. He leaned into Cale and whispered, “He doing it again?”

Cale nodded with a sheepish smile. Nate looked at them confused and he tilted his head to the side. What were they talking about? What was he doing? “What do you mean?” asked Nate slowly, skeptically.

“You’re nesting, as we like to call it.” Nesting? What the hell kinda name is that? Cale seemed to notice Nate’s oblivious look and he corrected, “You’re being clingy. Well, more clingy than usual. We call it nesting, cos you…” Cale motioned wildly at Nate. “do this.”

Nate blinked. He was not being clingy. Mikko and Cale’s laughter shook him from his thoughts. Nate folded his arms and looked down angrily. He was not clingy. He just… liked to touch and be touched. He could last a day without them. Easy. “Awwwww,” cooed Mikko, “He’s in denial, Cale. Look at him, it’s adorable.”

Nate scoffed lightly, “Oh shut the fuck up.”

“It’s not a bad thing, love,” admitted Cale, intentionally using one of his pet names, “it’s cute. I like it. Though, you have a habit of finding ways to steal guys’ stuff. That part can get annoying. You never let them go until you’ve stopped nesting. I’ve had to find ways to hide things, and half the time it still doesn’t work.”

Cale crossed over to the couch and sat beside a brooding Nate. Mikko took a seat on the armrest, studying Nate calmly. “I am not clingy,” pouted Nate.

Mikko chuckled and turned Nate’s face towards him, thumb brushing over Nate’s chin. “Nate,” began Mikko, “I love you, but don’t lie to yourself.”

“Fine, I’m a clingy bitch,” Nate professed, “Now come here.”

Nate extended his arms and Mikko obliged, letting Nate bear hug him. Cale watched fondly, and grabbed Nate’s hand in his own. Nate pushed back Mikko’s curls, feeling their softness against the pads of his fingers. Mikko slid onto the cushion beside Nate, bending only slightly uncomfortably to allow Nate to side hug him. He didn’t seem to mind, so Nate laid his head on Mikko’s and stared at the wall, brushing over Cale’s knuckles with his thumb. Cale began to stand up, but Nate held tight to his hand. Cale gave it a reassuring squeeze.

 “I have to go. Mikko’s here for his shift, and Gabe has some jobs for me. I can’t be late, you know how Gabe get’s with the time thing,” confessed Cale.

“But—” whined Nate sadly. He didn’t want Cale to leave. He’d barely even made up for giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to cling to him, just for a little longer. Part of Nate felt like a wounded puppy, and Nate hated how much he kind of wanted to cry. He was still incredibly delirious and out of it. Cale was his reality, his thread of comfort. Not that Mikko wouldn’t be that by the time Cale left, it was just that Nate felt like being petty. He didn’t care that Gabe had his standards. Fuck the standards, Nate wanted cuddles. This was bullshit.

“Mac,” insisted Cale kindly, “I do have to leave. You can’t make me stay. Mikko’s here, he’ll do whatever you want. You know he will. Now—” Cale heaved Nate to his feet and pulled him closer— “kiss me goodbye, and be good for Mikko, please. Try not to bite his head off or anything. Remember what I said.”

Nate nodded, albeit a bit defeatedly, and gave Cale a quick kiss. Cale turned to go and Nate’s hand lingered in Cale’s. He gave it a squeeze and Cale smiled, letting go and waving goodbye. Nate watched him go and stayed put, standing motionless in the middle of the room. Distantly, he heard the faint patter of rain on the warehouse windows. He turned to Mikko, who was lounging on the couch, actively making himself as big as possible on the couch as men usually do. Nate sat on the edge of the desk and watched Mikko quietly. 

After several quiet minutes Nate asked, “How’s Artturi?”

“Oh,” stated Mikko blankly, he shrugged, “he’s alright. You gave all of us a scare, but it’s mostly passed now. People know you’re doing better, and so they’re just angry now. I’m not exactly sure about Artturi on that front… I can’t see him getting very angry. Come to think of it, he was the most pissed when he saw the guys that nearly killed you. He doesn’t usually get mad like that.”

“Oh, I see. Well, how are you two? I know you guys don’t get to see each other too often, since Lehky’s usually out doing undercover jobs. That has to be hard, especially now.”

Mikko’s face fell a bit at that, worry furrowing his brow. “Yeah. We’re doing good, but I haven’t seen him since the show that night when you—” Mikko trailed off, not wanting to offend Nate by bringing up the sensitive subject.

“You can say it. I know it’s my own dumbass fault anyway. You’re okay.”

“—When you almost died. Gabe sent him off on a mission that next morning.”

Nate nodded solemnly. He couldn’t imagine what that feeling must be like. The feeling of being in the dark about the person they loved. Mikko was strong, though, probably stronger than even The Moose himself would care to admit. “Where’d Gabe send him?”

The room went tensely silent. Mikko bit his lip and looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. His knee bounced up and down anxiously. Nate watched, half worried and half concerned. Clearly this was a question Mikko hadn’t expected, nor one he wanted to answer.

“Mikko?” questioned Nate again, his voice getting a hard edge to it, sharp as broken glass. What the hell was keeping him from saying? What had Gabe been doing? Come to think of it, why was he so in the dark with it all? “Mikko, where the hell did Gabe send him? What’s going on?”

Mikko sighed and met eyes with Nate. He put his clasped hands to his forehead and just barely shook his head. “The Lightning.”Nate’s face paled. Shit. A dull flame of rage sparked and Nate stood abruptly. He was tense, his muscles coiled like a rattler despite how it hurt his wounds. This was bad, worse than he’d thought. This was a war. There was no turning back now. Nate was definitely going to fight someone.

[waywardstation]

Look for anything (or anyone) that could be familiar

For part two:

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🔼 for Ingo to find Emmet

🔽 for Emmet to find Ingo

[stump-not-found]

A Lifetime Served in a Little Cup

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

---

bill, babygirl, the red flags get outta there

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin

[caffichai]

More art for Coldshot's Called Shot by my friend @fishing-lesbian-catgirl! If you like spicy content, go give it a read!

The final piece, at least for now! Somehow I did these in reverse chronological order, but I guess it worked out in the end

Hey, if you're here, check this out!

[wuntrum]

2025 horror pin up calendar!!

print version | digital (/print it yourself) version

a labor of love, truly <3 prepare for the new year with 12 suggestive (and silly) horror characters :) featuring characters from: american psycho, bride of re-animator, the evil dead, hannibal, jason x, frankenhooker, alien, an american werewolf in london, jennifer's body, saw, the thing, and scream! to see the full specs of the calendar, check out the pages above!

[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

the most anticipated comic from this blog: White Boy Goes Dancing (follows directly from this)

Everyone's been sending me asks for this! I have a second part to this planned for the future. Watch this space!

[swampybogg]

[eleganthologramcolor]

Goofy way of delivering news to the 141???

Mini Poly!141 + reader (Reader is gender neutral but implied female anatomy, pregnancy)

You're smug, grinning slyly as you set up a little projector in the living room, dimming the lights.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you all here," you hum, feigning nonchalance as the boys sit spread apart from the couch, the love seat and Johnny in the floor, too antsy to sit on the furniture.

The projector flicks on with a kahoot code screen.

"Boys, if you could join."

They give each other looks, already wary from the last stunt you'd pulled with this. There's even a glimmer of panic on Johnny's face, who's trying to frantically remember the date in case he'd forgotten your birthday again.

Kyle and Price are playful, indulging you, and Simon is quiet. He can tell something's up, something a little more than just a game. He keeps his mouth shut, though, tongue in cheek as he glances at his own phone screen.

"We are going to take a quiz today."

And with that, the game begins.

Question 1: what is this?

Displayed over the question is a photo of you, beaming, holding a positive pregnancy test. The boys cheer, gathering you up in their arms, Kyle gets to you first, pressing kisses to the top of your head, and Johnny's trying to pull you close to start grabbing at your belly, as if there may be signs already.

Question 2: Who's the father?

"Bit of an unserious way to deliver news, innit?" Simon finally grumbles, unable to hold back the amused huff.

Then the screen flicks to the next question.

The room is quiet for a moment, competitive, the boys instantly hushed as they glance at one another. They each pick themselves, of course, they'd hope they got first born. Who wouldn't?

But when in the dark, Kyle's face is lit up in green, and there's only a pause before he's cackling victoriously as he runs out of the room to evade the pillows thrown at his head.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

your krakoa era cherik art has altered my brain chemistry

more krakoa era is to come from me my friend so i worry for your brain

[demon-mochi]

It’s summer time!

[angelcake10023]

Samadhi Fire Tang Au- Part 3

A Guilty Conscious

Previous/ Next

[ruubesz-draws]

Happy 70th GODZILLA DAY!!!

Grandpa is OLD Fun fact: There are exactly 70 candles on the cake

This was rushed btw sorry abt that