#humans LOVE them some dead people

[evilminji]

The Anti-Ecto Acts... could literally start WW3

I am sitting here, contemplating China. The country. Literally one of THE OLDEST countries. With a truely massive population. And... I will admit my ignorance. But from what I have heard? They are big on honoring the Dead.

Their Dead.

The Dead of China. Hundreds of millions of souls. Which, statistically, would mean the average human ghost has a good chance to come from the region. And they are not alone.

Again, my ignorance curses me, but if my general knowledge is to be believed? It is a common practice in Asianic Countries. Oh sure, they won't argue there might be BAD ghosts. But that's to be expected! There are bad PEOPLE! They die.

They have monks and priests for such things. Specialists. Ancient problem, tried and true solutions. They move on and have lunch, consider what options there are for dinner. Business of the day and all that.

But THEN.

Fanatics from the West. Painting themselves as Men Of Science, not only dare to play god, but tear open a hole to THE AFTERLIFE? And start ATTACKING indiscriminately? They stand before an international stage and spew clearly bigoted pseudoscience, to justify their genocide, while ALSO letting God's and demons run roughshod over the WORLD, just so they can try to convince everyone they have the right to MURDER YOUR ANCESTORS?

They OPENED THAT GATE! They LET THEM OUT! There is a difference, culturally, for many of your countries between the soul of a dead man (powers be damned) and a SPIRIT OF LIVING STORMS.

You are not IDIOTS. Tigers are dangerous. Wolves are dangerous. But someone walking into a crowded mall and releasing frightened wild animals DOES NOT mean we go into the wilds and start killing! We charge the madmen you attacked innocent people!

The fact that tigers and wolves are dangerous IS NOT NEW. The fact that the souls of the dead are dangerous is ALSO not new! It is not malicious. It is INHERENT. A state of being. That is why they are not encouraged to linger! We love them, but this world is not built for them. It is fragile and barren, built for the living.

But dear sweet FUCK, the WROTH.

How? Many countries EXACTLY. How many religions? SPECIFICALLY honor and protect the dead. Declare in no uncertain terms, the SANCTITY of the soul?

How many people have LOST somebody? A friend, a lover, a CHILD.

And in one breath you give them hope then THREATEN it? "They may still be out there... we are going to brutally torture them to death. Because your loved ones are animals to us."

The UN would have the SINGLE most ugly, barely contained, riot imaginable. Spiritual Leaders would be tearing CHUNKS out of the US. The Pope, the Dalai Lama, you name it. You can NOT invade THE AFTERLIFE and not have it IMMEDIATELY become a religious concern.

Not to mention the international SAFETY concern. One countries actions? Unleashing beings that can effect the GLOBAL ECOSYSTEM? The ENTIRE planets weather? Plunged EVERYONE into Eternal Sleep??! How can that not be considered DILBERATE after the first one!

Your grand idea is to ANTAGONIZE them? Make MORE of them come through??

"Kill death itself". You fanatical NUTJOBS! That's not even a NEW hypothetical! That ends HORRIFICLY for literally EVERYONE. Eternal starvation, suffocation, crushing, and worse! We suck the planet dry, over populate so horrifically we end up BURIED UNDER OUR OWN CHILDREN, and suffer FOREVER without the release of death!

You fucking MORONS! Eternal life is a well known CURSE!

Their science is shaky at best, hardly peer reviewed. DEEPLY unethical. And clearly dangerous! Radioactive!!! In a population center?! How many innocent people have been exposed!?

And if the Ghost are reaching OUT? Imagine meeting long dead countrymen, who come to you fearing for their very SOULS. Who have lived in peace. Unknown to you, for CENTURIES. Who beg you, in YOUR native tounge, to help. Talks of people disappearing. Fear and desperation.

This is not to say world leaders are great and benevolent figures, free of greed or sin. Nor their governments. But it is quite another thing entirely, when they talk... and all you can think is "you are talking about my dead father. My late wife. My deceased son."

When they spew their HATE. And back hand your loved ones by doing so.

What powerful person has not lost SOMEBODY.

All this? And I have not even TOUCHED on the shit storm DC would add on top. The Drama? The IMMEDIATE near certain SMITING? You want to MURDER Superman's FAMILY??? I'd say pick a god and pray, but you've already made enemy of ALL of them.

So... good luck and get fucked?

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @stealingyourbones @nerdpoe

[feroluce]

Randomly consumed today by the thought of henghill cuddles, but like from a specific point in their relationship, like after they've only recently started laying in the same bed together.

It's something that takes them a long time to work up to; they both have nightmares, and yeah, Dan Heng is a Vidyadhara and he can heal himself beyond anything Boothill could accidentally do to him, but still. Boothill is made of metal now. He's heavy. It wouldn't take much, just a single flailing limb to cause some damage. He still gets up after Dan Heng falls asleep, and sneaks down into the guest cabin in one of the other cars.

But he'll lay in bed with Dan Heng until then. At first Boothill would always try to situate a blanket between them, because well. Metal isn't exactly pleasant to cuddle. But more and more lately, he's noticed Dan Heng keeps worming his way around their soft barrier and just kind of...rubbing his hand along him? Open palm up the curve of his side, across the planes of his chest, into the star-shape at his solar plexus, down the plates of his abdomen, back to his side again. Fingertips tap soundlessly against metal, or press into dents and divots, or smooth over old scars in the steel.

"Ya don't hav'ta do that, ya know."

"Does it bother you?"

Dan Heng's hand has already stopped, settling somewhere on the futon, neutral ground. Boothill clarifies that no, it doesn't bother him. But he can't feel any of it. He only knows he's doing it because he can see the motion out of the corner of his eye. Dan Heng doesn't need to go through the extra effort to do things for him like he would someone with a normal human body.

And Dan Heng goes quiet, just long enough that Boothill gets curious and turns to look at him over his shoulder. He has the cute little furrow between his brows, like when he's thinking.

And then he opens that pretty mouth of his and says, "That's alright, I think I'm doing it for myself, anyway" and Boothill nearly wheezes because wow, Dan Heng is almost never quite that honest when it comes to himself fdklsajlkd

Boothill cackles in surprise and asks point blank what he means, because what could he be getting out of that? Given the implied permission, Dan Heng's hand starts it's usual route again. Side, chest, solar plexus, abdomen, side. Boothill can practically hear him chewing on his words.

"I like that you're warm," is what he finally says, and Boothill suddenly feels like a bullet has just grazed something vital. "All the processes you run increase your temperature," Dan Heng's hand fans out across a span of steel and he holds it there, like he's soaking up the heat. "And your metal is smooth, it feels pleasant to touch," his fingertips move in circles, slip into a divot perfectly sized, rub back and forth. Boothill silently wills one of his cooling fans threatening to open up to stay closed.

"I like how you feel under my hands. That's all." Headshot! No recovery possible.

"...Suit yerself, then," and Boothill quickly turns back over before Dan Heng can see it in his face, how close he just hit to his heart.

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

for a webbed site that claims to love rehabilitative justice tumblr sure has a love of vengeance huh. somehow we’ve created a digital atmosphere where literal murder is less bad than (checks notes) not emerging from the womb with a perfectly calibrated moral compass and the Correct Political Opinions

I’ve seen people on here say that, not only can people Not Change, but that people who try to change are a) lying b) manipulative and c) undeserving of the chance to change. besties…becoming a better person isn’t about whether or not you deserve to become a better person, it’s not even about becoming 100% perfect, it’s about doing damage control after you realize you fucked up. like yeah people you’ve hurt aren’t obligated to like you/forgive you/interact with you, but tumblrites seem to think that anyone who’s ever made a serious mistake should be exiled from society and/or guillotined. we’ve gone from reasonable and correct takes about how people change (ex. “it’s not my responsibility to teach you”— yes! of course it shouldn’t be up to underprivileged random people on the internet to educate the uninformed!) to utterly deranged ones (ex. “nobody with privilege will ever realize that they’re doing harm and the ones who claim to be in the process of learning are just virtue signaling and should be punished for it”— a take I’ve seen applied to men learning about feminism, cishets becoming allies, white people learning about antiracism, relatives of shooters who go on to advocate for gun control, etc)

you do realize that people can genuinely change for the better, right? I’ve seen my parents un-transphobia themselves firsthand, going from thinking that my sibling came out “for attention” to wholeheartedly believing in trans rights. my grandma’s father was every kind of asshole imaginable and she grew up indoctrinated, but as an adult she broke away from him and has spent the rest of her life working on unlearning stuff. my cousin grew up in the rural south and parroted his rural southern dad’s opinions until he was thirteen and started actually thinking for himself, at which point he did a total 180 and is now studying history with a focus on the evolution of the rights of the underprivileged

so when I see people on here say that people shouldn’t change because they don’t deserve to change it rubs me the wrong way. cause at that point it sounds like you’d rather have that person stay harmful so you can stay mad at them, instead of letting them change and gaining yourself an ally. again, you don’t need to interact with them, but. at this point it kind of feels like you care more about hating The Oppressors than about protecting The Oppressed.

[autisticcole]

Heheheheheho I have gotten some of the Dragon Age books (🏴‍☠️) and this is gonna really let me dig into some stuff, especially my favorite guy Cole, cause now I can read his OG appearance, I want to see how much stuff Cole says, especially during his quest actually makes sense, and how much is in-universe "both sides are right"ing about not listening to what Cole wants to do.

I am mainly talking about Spirit!Cole thanking Inky for not making him change... Despite the fact that thoughout Cole's quest Solas ignores what Cole wants (Like being binded) & wants to do (Kill the guy who beat beyond beating a 12 (at most) year old (most likely, it isn't outright stated (to my memory) the Templar who fucked up the paperwork was also one of the ones who physically abused him, but I feel it's a pretty safe assumption) & got that child killed due to neglect & faced no consequences) but ultimately the choice that causes Cole to thank the player for not changing him is the one where you listen to Solas over Cole (Or well Varric, who also doesn't let Cole do what he wants but is closer to what Cole would have done if he had went alone for the confrontation) & in this route I would say Cole's character changes a lot more, especially as he forgets the original Cole, which... Rubs me wrong, but I'll save my more detailed thoughts for 1. After I fully read Asunder & 2. Either a full Cole analysis or a detailed post about my thoughts on his quest & routes (& maybe how I'd rewrite them, as a Autistic person & a ally to the aroace community)

Anyways my point is that I want to see how true it is characters rejected or wanted to change Cole, I want to see what leads him to feel that having two men argue & tell him who he is supposed to be & do only to have a third person decide out of those two's options for what he should do is remotely a situation where he's been accepted.

[iniziare]

Stealth has never been his forte but he tries to sneak up on her regardless, making use of the easy terrain and the noise of the machines drilling into the rock up ahead. The area is mostly empty, a few miners carrying things here and there, and a small group of children chasing each other between the carts and barrels, shrieking with excitement. Just two more careful steps and then Luka is right behind Seele, close enough to wrap his arms around her in a surprise hug.

"Hi," he says with a wide smile on his face, moving his head so she can see him if she turns her face toward him. "I was looking for you." He lets go of her, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about it and steps around her so they're face-to-face. Warmth rises to his cheeks as he reaches into his pocket to pull out the present he made for her. It's wrapped in old newspaper, badly enough it could be mistaken for nothing but crumpled newspaper, but it was all he'd had available.

"A gift for you. For.. to bring you good luck in the new year. And.. to keep you safe."

[Inside the paper is a necklace, seemingly made from pre-used hex nuts of varying sizes, three of them in the middle section large enough her fingers will fit through. It's held on the neck by a magnet in the back, but can be pulled off easily to create a makeshift weapon when needed.]

She felt him before she saw him. The shift in the air was bare, and the faintest scruff of boots against stone was almost lost beneath the roar of the drills up ahead. But nothing was ever quite careful enough to fool her, or rather, get past her. Stealth? Yeah, sure. And so a smirk tugged at her lips before she could stop it, a flicker of amusement barely there before— the warmth at her back then was sudden, arms wrapping around her without any warning to speak of, and so for a moment, she stiffened, an ages old instinct curling through a physique before recognition hit and settled. The weight of him, the familiar scent of metal and dust— Luka. For a moment, her hand twitched where it had hovered near her belt, but the breath that followed was slow, and steady. "I thought I was gonna have to throw you over my shoulder for that one." Wouldn’t have been the first time. But it had come in a mutter, turning just enough as to catch the edge of that grin of his that she'd come to know so well. There was something about the way that this guy with his flaming red hair, beamed— like a kid who just got away with something. It was annoyingly endearing, too much so sometimes, and it almost always managed to prompt a smile onto her own features in turn.

She let him step back, and watched him fumble through his pockets— just for a moment, just long enough for that gaze of purple to flick over him, noting that restless energy she'd become so familiar with, the way that anticipation always coiled at his fingertips. He seemed nervous somehow, for some reason, and the thought alone had her brow lift, and quiet amusement settle at the edges of her expression— until he reached out to her with something in his hands. It was wrapped in old, crumpled newspaper, so haphazardly that for just a fleeting second, she almost wondered if he really was handing her nothing but scrap. But then— as her fingers brushed against the edges, felt the contents hidden therein, and caught the way he was looking at her, she knew that it wasn't, and that this... mattered. Just like everything he did mattered.

And so she took it without a word, fingers peeling back the layers of newspaper, quick, practiced, but mostly impatiently so, and with the utmost curiosity for once— until the crinkle of paper gave way to cool metal beneath her touch— oh.

Hex nuts. They were familiar, and worn from use, threaded together in a solid weight that settled against her palm. Three of them, larger than the others, wide enough for her fingers to slip through (yes, she knew this since they may have slipped into them for a few seconds as to see)— brass knuckles, if she wanted them to be. Fingers then traced the line of the chain with her thumb, pressing lightly against the magnetic clasp. It was sturdy, really sturdy, but quick enough to break loose if needed.

A weapon. And a snort of some kind abandoned her, quiet, but one that was genuine. "You really don't trust me to keep myself safe, huh?" It was a tease, it was always a tease. But a gaze still flicked up at him, sharp in judgment, but not in any way unkind. Oh, Luka, it was sweet, he was sweet— that guy that her gaze settled on stubbornly now, that boy that seemed still a little pink in the face, that guy that had her smiling as she looped the necklace around her neck, void of any hesitation, no matter her words. It hung heavier than most, a good weight, solid. And one more time, the tips of her fingers brushed over the edges, before her voice claimed the air between them again, though this time, it was much softer. "... Thanks, Luka." She wanted to lean in, to hug him, or something else, something more, but it almost seemed as if that smile that had claimed her in this sensation of gratitude, rather brightly so in fact, rooted her to the ground. But then as she glanced up, something more familiar slipped back into her voice, and it was once again dry, and teasing: "Guess I’ll find out soon if this actually brings good luck. If I get into a fight today, you owe me."

Prompt: Unprompted, my favorite. She loves this, Luka. // @inominati

[mc-critical]

2.02 (26) / 2.16 (40)

[truethes]

watched some of the available scenes on youtube but honestly forgot how often people commented to ku.ro about how 'normal' mahi.ru was for an eve which, at the beginning is rather easy to relate to mahi.ru's simple outlook of life but also equivalates to how, before this, ku.ros life has always been alongside other supernatural beings.

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

ALRIGHTY here’s day 2! A day late bc my WiFi was absolute Garbage yesterday- it’s fixed now!

Warnings: Drugged whumpee? Sort of? (Hospital pain meds), conditioned whumpee, he is in the hospital, also he’s like. Kinda delirious I think? Idk the meds are messing with his head, also he’s Not Happy about the fact he’s on them, people being suspicious of Caretaker because of scars (whumpee sets the facts straight before anything happens though)

Day 2: Sweat Brain Fog

The Meeting Arc Part 2

~~~~~

It’s too bright.

Volo squeezes his eyes back shut the moment they open with a quiet groan.

The world feels.. weird. He feels weird.

Almost dizzy..?

Thinking feels weird too.. fuzzy..

Yeah. Fuzzy’s a good way to describe how he feels right now. And tired.

So, so very tired..

He wakes up again, squinting against the light.

Oh, I’m somewhere unfamiliar..

Where are my..

Where. Where are they. Where are my Pokémon.

He moves to try to sit up.

Oh, his head’s spinning.

His whole body feels.. heavy.. exhausted..

So exhausted..

Pokémon. Right, he needs to find his Pokémon-

There’s a tube in his arm?

Hospital?

Why am I.. What hospital am I in..

He clumsily pokes at his watch, squinting at the screen, trying to see the time, date, and location.

It’s so blurry..

Okay. Giving up on that.

“Hello?” He calls out. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Someone pokes his head in. A nurse, probably? “Oh, you’re awake!” The nurse hurries over, gently pushing him back to the bed. “Here, lay back down.”

Each word makes his head swim. He’s tired, everything is fuzzy, and it takes him a minute to figure out what the guy said. “Mmkay.. where are my Pokémon..?”

The nurse frowns. “..There’s a guy in the lobby. He might know, but before we let you talk to him, we have some questions to ask.”

All Volo got out of that was someone’s in the lobby. Something about questions. “..who..?”

“His name is Cheri Jennings.”

Volo lets out a sigh of relief.

Okay. Cheri has his Pokémon. He doesn’t know Cheri very well, but Cheri saved him, right? And whatever Cheri wants with him, he trusts that they’ll be taken care of, for now, at least- if Cheri’s trying to gain his trust, anyway.

They’re okay..

So exhausted..

His eyes slip closed again.

Time passes for him like the blink of an eye, and when he wakes up again, someone else is in the room, checking machines by his bed. She looks over as he moves.

“Hello. Can you understand me?”

“Um..” Volo nods.

He’s a little more awake now. Everything still feels so fuzzy, though. He’s also tired, exhaustion running bone-deep, and he makes no move to get up this time. “..Where am I?”

“Okay.” The lady takes a deep breath. “..You’re in the Eterna City Hospital. You were brought here by Cheri Jennings. He said the two of you were attacked by a strange man with powerful Pokémon, is that right?”

Volo thinks for a moment. Remembering takes so much energy- but he does. “Mmh.. Yes, that’s what happened. We were.. we were fighting someone horrible, and..” He shakes his head. “..I.. got hurt..? And I remember him carrying me..” He shakes his head. “He had ice on his arm, is he okay?”

“He’s okay. ..I have another question.”

Volo nods.

“Was he the one who made the.. well.” The nurse shifts uncomfortably.

Oh. “You saw those..?” Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, Volo shakes his head. “N.. no, he didn’t make those.. is he here right now..?”

The nurse nods. “Yes, he’s in the lobby. ..who-”

“It doesn’t matter, but, um.. It wasn’t him, can.. Can you let him in here..? Please?”

The nurse thinks for a moment, then sighs, nodding. “I’ll bring him in.”

Volo nods, eyes slipping closed.

When they open again, Cheri’s asleep by his bed, though Cheri quickly wakes up when Volo moves.

“Hey,” he says, taking Volo’s hands in his.

Volo flinches. He can’t help it, yanking himself away from contact as if another person’s sudden touch is a hot coal.

Most people avoid touching him, pull away quickly once he flinches. But Cheri keeps his hands open.

And Volo reaches forward, letting Cheri hold his hands.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a comforting touch.

“..you saved my life,” he murmurs. “..why? What do you have to gain, by having this power over me?”

“What power?” Cheri shakes his head. “What are you talking about??”

“You saved my life,” Volo repeats. “So it now belongs to you.”

“..that’s.. Kinda a fucked way of thinking about it, don’t you think?” Cheri shakes his head, looking away. “Think about it as me repaying an old favor. My siblings and I would’ve been left with next to nothing if you hadn’t helped us when we were banished, you know?”

“..hm.” Volo nods, lightly squeezing Cheri’s hands. “I guess that makes sense. ..still.. Why save me? I don’t deserve it after the rift.” He shakes his head. “I hurt you, didn’t I? Are you trying to hurt me back?”

Cheri blinks a few times. “No? Why would I want that? Look, I know you’ve had it rough for a while, but I can promise you I don’t want to hurt you.” Cheri’s tongue glows as he makes the promise, and then magic wraps around the two of them.

Locking the promise in..?

..Volo looks away.

Then.. it’s true, he really DOESN’T want to hurt me.

“..why..?” Volo asks again. “I’m.. worthless now. There’s nobody left I can save, nothing else I can do to control the damage. I’ve apologized to almost everyone I can, I’ve hurt, I’ve bled, I’ve cried and I’ve broken over it, and now I’m worth nothing.” He lets his eyes slip closed, starting to feel uncomfortable with how much he’s shared, but it’s already out there, he might as well finish the thought. “There’s nothing more I can do but suffer. And I am so tired of suffering for it all. That’s selfish, I know, I don’t deserve death’s release, but I’m tired.”

Oooohhh no. Cheri’s mouth hangs open for a moment. “Volo.. what.. the hell are you talking about?”

Volo shakes his head, pulling Cheri’s hands to his face so he can hide behind them. After a moment, one of Cheri’s hands let go.

Volo’s disappointment is short lived, because Cheri’s hand is in his hair next, gently brushing his bangs back over his left eye.

Oh, right, that exists. He hadn’t even noticed it wasn’t covered. His skin feels.. odd, not very sensitive..

“..hey.. Volo? ..What are you talking about?”

Cheri’s voice is so soft. So gentle, so full of worry, of concern..

Tears start to slip down Volo’s face. “I- I can’t.”

Cheri frowns. “..Is this about Eclipse? What.. what did he do..?”

“..He hurt me,” Volo whispers, hiding behind his hands. “Very badly.”

And he was kind at first too. Held me, took care of me, and I thought he was the one person in the world who hadn’t just wanted to use me.

What a foolish thought.

..he was kind at first, just like this. He said he would protect me, and he did. Nobody else could hurt me but him- this situation feels all too familiar.

But where Eclipse had no right to do what he did..

I DID hurt Cheri and his family.

“..you can too, if that’s what you kept me alive for,” he murmurs. “You must want to, it’s the only thing that makes sense.. You were hurt by me, and now you want your turn to give me my just desserts for it.”

“…Volo… What the fuck.”

Volo peeks between his fingers after a moment- oh. Cheri looks.. genuinely horrified at that idea. “..you.. really don’t want to hurt me? Not at all?”

“Why in the ever-loving fuck would I-” Cheri pulls his hands away, taking a deep breath. Volo flinches, hiding behind his hands again.

When he looks again, Cheri’s just.. staring. There’s a lot of emotions on his face, most of all a deep sadness.

“..He really, really hurt you,” Cheri murmurs.

Volo looks away. “..I know,” he says, trying to laugh even though it isn’t funny-

He’s crying. Why is he crying?

Cheri sighs, moving closer and opening his arms.

Volo hesitates.

If I trust, I’ll only get hurt. This’ll only hurt me in the end.

But after a few moments, Volo moves to Cheri anyway, careful of the medical equipment and pushing through the spots in his vision from sitting up. He’s cautious, slow.

Cheri’s arms wrap around him, and he feels so safe, so protected, and oh, this is worth whatever pain it’ll bring him later. Hiding his face in Cheri’s chest, Volo starts to shake with silent sobs.

“He..” Cheri sighs. “He’ll never hurt you again. Okay? You’re not gonna be hurt again, not by me or anyone else. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Cheri murmurs. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

“I- I don’t de-eserve to be okay,” Volo sobs out. “I should be hurting. Why aren’t I hurting? I’m-” He pulls back, pulling at his hospital gown, seeing the bandages.

His skin feels weird, and dread starts to pool in his stomach. “I’m.. I’m hurt, why don’t I feel it, why don’t I-”

“Drugs.” Cheri doesn’t move to hold him again, though he keeps his arms open.

Oh. Oh, that explains the.. Everything.. Volo takes a moment to calm himself down.

“Hey..” Cheri moves to tap his shoulder, then thinks better of it, pulling back and making his voice slightly louder. “Hey.” After a few moments, Volo looks up again. “..What if I think you deserve to be okay?”

Volo thinks for a moment. “..You’re wrong.” He’s too tired to think of why.

Cheri shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something else, but then a nurse comes in.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be moving around so much!” Getting Volo to lay back down, the nurse looks over at Cheri. “Why didn’t you tell him to stop?”

Cheri grimaces, pushing back the immediate urge to defend himself. I’m fine, she’s not attacking me. “I didn’t know he couldn’t move. I’m just a visitor.”

“Right. Sorry.” The nurse checks a few things. “Make sure he doesn’t do that again, there’s a few reasons he shouldn’t be moving right now. We’ve tracked the attack back to a very powerful Pokémon, and honestly, he shouldn’t even be awake right now, let alone moving- he’s very lucky, he must’ve been hit with a weaker version of the attack than usual.”

Oh! That’s good news! Cheri nods. “I’ll make sure he holds still.”

“Thank you.” Finishing with her checks, she turns to hurry off. Cheri watches as she leaves, then turns back to Volo, eyes softening as he does. “..So.. Can I get you anything, or..?”

I feel so helpless here.. “..My Pokémon,” Volo murmurs. “Let them out.”

“They’re at the Pokémon center, I don’t have them right now. ..Sorry.” Speaking of which, I need to go pick them up soon..

“Oh..” Well, that’s disappointing, but. At least he knows they’re okay and somewhere safe. He ignores the part of him that screams it’s a lie, the part of him that screams he needs to leave, to go find them.

It’ll only hurt me to trust.

Volo stares at the wall for a few moments.

..He ignores that side of his mind despite his better judgement, reaching for Cheri again. Desperate for a kind touch he hadn’t felt in years.

Cheri scoots closer to Volo, gently resting his hand across Volo’s chest- away from the injury, of course. Volo’s body twitches with an involuntary flinch, but he hums, wrapping his arms around Cheri’s.

Cheri studies Volo’s face for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into Volo’s soul, a look Volo’s quickly become familiar with in the time they’ve spent together. “..Do you cuddle them to sleep, or..?”

Volo nods. “..I.. don’t know if I’ve slept alone a day in my life. I’ve always had.. um.. At least an egg, Toge as an egg..” He shakes his head, humming quietly as Cheri moves a little closer. “..thank you,” he murmurs.

“Don’t mention it.” Cheri rests his chin on the side of the bed, still watching Volo.

Under Cheri’s protective gaze, Volo lets himself relax. “..tell them to.. um.. lower the pain meds.. I hate feeling like this,” Volo mumbles.

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” Cheri warns.

“Please. Please. I.. um..” Volo’s eyelids are heavy, but he opens his eyes anyway, staring at Cheri with a pleading look. “I have to be able to, to think. Please.”

Cheri stares back for a moment, then sighs, eyes softening as he nods. “I’ll.. see what I can do.”

Volo nods, eyes slipping closed again as he breathes a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he mumbles, relaxing into Cheri’s touch.

“Of course,” Cheri murmurs. “..Get some sleep. You need it.”

Volo nods, and Cheri watches as, slowly, his breathing evens out.

It isn’t long before Cheri’s asleep too.

[narmothewraith]

Introduction of my blog

My main rule is when interacting with me: just be nice and if you harass people for the content they like?? Just fuck off, this page is safe for the freaks. (I mean look at the warning) As long you're nice and you let me be me, I won't give a fuck who you are. So yeah that's all :)

~ I go by the name; Sam

~ I'm a masc person and while I prefer male pronouns I don't really give a fuck, so you can call me anything.

~ I'm 18 and post/reblog 18+ content now and then, so if you're uncomfortable with 18+ content or are a minor please do not interact with those posts... Thank you <3 Uhhh so basically I'm being horny on main...

⚠️ WARNING: I play DoL (Degrees of Lewdity) and I post/reblog stuff about it but it's a very fucked up porn game, so I will post/reblog dark content on here. I will try to tag accordingly but yeah. In general there will be some reblogs of dark content, so if you don't like that, well this was a warning ⚠️

[gonfrees]

"egg prices rising gave a huge profit boost to corperations" "cans of vegetables all over $1" "cans of beans all over $1" "produce prices skyrocket" "corporations profits rising" "minimum wage stagnant" "rent increase" "tip your landlord" "gas increase in price causes record profits" I am about to commit a crime do fucking henious.

[samiholloway]

Currently a rotating constellation of probably four or five old ones I keep coming back to that keep not getting written*, but lately I've come up with a few new ones that I might tackle**??

[paramoira]

@godofcourage gets a random starter

it's one of those bitterly chilly nights where the moon is high in the sky and a soon approaching rainfall clings in the air. nightlife seems prevalent, at least if the street she's walked down was anything to judge from. one of the bars' had one of those folding doors which allowed them to form an open patio, live music drifting out and people of various levels of intoxication braving the chill. another, the one on the corner, had a line of the typical college looking sort waiting to get in with a few scattered older adults. she ignores them, dodging a larger group of friends in the line and stepping into the street to get around them. maybe ariadne shouldn't have parked her car so far away yet she hadn't exactly wanted it seen or anyone taking down her license plate when she held no business getting involved in what she was doing in the first place. ariadne held enough issues with certain detectives even if most had seemed to form a kind of acceptance that her dedication to her work proved family members held no baring on her commitment to solving the deaths which crossed her table at the morgue.

except, all of those detectives had seemed ready to accept the current case (or lack thereof) as presently in review as 'accidents'.

it was true the evidence hadn't been as strong as other cases, however, ariadne steadfastly disagreed with the pathologist in a jurisdiction over, the two cases she believed were linked having transpired in different areas yet not over state lines. there hadn't been any outright preternatural elements though a few things had made her question; even so, finding evidence the victims had once been to a blood den did not equate to proof anything paranormal had caused their deaths. as such there had not been enough to require the bprd's involvement and certainly nothing to have warranted fbi involvement even had she attempted a favor.

perhaps this was all one enormous hunch of a bad feeling ariadne shouldn't be following. certainly, one would think that as intelligent a woman as doctor kalkan clamed to be, she would have learned her lesson by now in respect to getting too involved with her cases. if nothing else what had happened in london should have taught her that. and yet, here she was, walking down a dimly lit street and jogging up the six steps of the apartment building once she finds the address she'd been looking for. how she'd got that, perhaps, wasn't completely in-line with the fact she was supposed to be on the side of law enforcement (sometimes it helped that one's familial ties were tied up in much less legally acceptable things and held no issues in utilizing those means if she asked). it was a very blurred line at times, though ariadne was willing to justify it as a fairly minor deviation and for a greater good. when someone comes out in hurry, she grabs the door before it closes, looking back a moment as the person moves down the street and rain begins prompting her to move inside, distracted.

somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd gotten a strange sense off the hooded man, something dark and the scent of smoke... however, ariadne chalked it up to her own minor paranoia about her covert actions and her anxieties about things in the past. closing the door, ariadne wonders if this was how private detectives operated, waiting for doors to be opened or did they just pick locks? she supposes they weren't held to the same rules as the police and as long as they weren't caught. on that same thought train, she wouldn't have put it passed the one girl's only living relative, a brother, to have hired one to look into things after the police findings. regardless, she has to speak with the girl that lives here and so ariadne makes her way up the steps. there's a weight to the moment, a sudden increasing worry. she has theories, even if ariadne's not sold on them yet but she'd seen the same item on this girl's person as had been found at two previous scenes, a match box from a location she knew was a blood den. again, it didn't mean the girls were even connected to the place, for all she knew it could be the killer-- if there really was one. finally, she reaches the top where the girl's apartment was, seeking to knock only to find the door slightly ajar.

there, a few steps inside, she finds a female down-- the girl, a friend of one of the victims who she'd spoken to briefly when on scene with one of the detectives, laying on the floor among a smashed glass table. she moves to take a pulse, render aid if possible, however the girl was deceased, having begun to bleed out and another set of matches on the floor. was it a coincidence? or was someone trying to draw attention? the easy answer would be to think it was a vampire killer or more likely a ripper if one went down that route yet there was too much blood left at the scenes and no bite wounds. was it a human who knew about vampires? and it always looked like an accident-- a fall or a something of the sort. ariadne wondered if this girl also had a strange puncture mark as that had been present at the other scenes too except there wasn't an easy method to check and the glass made things precarious as it was. she needed to call this in though how she was going to explain her presence or that she'd taken it upon herself to want to ask the girl questions she held no idea how to explain. she's pulling out her phone when she senses someone else at the door.

"i'm with the m.e.'s office.. i just found her like this. i'm about to call it i--" ariadne pauses in confusion when she looks over as she stands upright. "o--" no, no. it wasn't, she's not entirely sure how she knows, perhaps it's the difference in his aura if that was what that strange sense she was only starting to become aware she had was and perhaps it's a trick of the low-light, but he looks so similar to... well, she supposed everyone had a doppelganger of sorts. "oh shit--" she realizes it too late. "--that guy with the hood downstairs! i think he's the one that did this." she's not really talking to the strange man though she should be much more concerned about his presence than she is. granted, this man wasn't dressed like the other guy that'd smelled like smoke, nor did he have the same... he didn't seem the same and she was surrounded by glass pieces if she had to defend herself. "who are you?"

*(see the novel i wrote in tags)

[cryptosexologist]

god the arc in space was good

[gatalentan]

In the midst of that amazing time in my life came the worst, and that was when my friends just started dropping dead. They were sick today and dead tomorrow. And when you would go to the hospital to look for you friend they would be out in the hallway on a gurney pushed up against a wall dying for help, dying for love, dying to be saved. And some of them with that sign on their gurney that said "do not touch". And they suffered, and people wanted to act like they weren't good people, kind people, wonderful people, somebody's son, somebody's daughter, somebody. // SHERYL LEE RALPH receiving the Human Rights Campaign's National Ally for Equality Award 2022. (x)

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal

Sleep like the Dead (Inherited): Nothing wakes you anymore. Leona is as "selfish" as they come, and has no regard for your schedule. He doesn't feel remorse for soaking up your time in the slightest. Why should he? Other people do it for 90% of the day. Take a load off, the bags under your eyes are unsightly. If he doesn't want to wake up in the morning? You ain't either. It's a done deal. If the building isn't up in flames then don't bother asking. Evidently, prolonged and frequent daytime siestas take their toll on your circadian rhythm. You now need just as - if not more - sleep than Leona. Napping out in public and at the rowdy Savanaclaw Dorm bestowed upon you a disturbance immunity. Ramshackle could be in the middle of a raid and you wouldn't move. Not unless something singed your skin or really did some damage. It's become an actual problem. Crewel is considering a sleep study.

"Oi, herbivore...stop squirming so much. You almost crushed my tail. Hah? Class? You don't need it. Just borrow notes from one of those little friends or make the cat go....fine. Gimmie your homework later. I can teach you a thing or two. That is, if you can handle it." <- Grim can't be trusted on his own? Not Leona's problem. You're half of a student. Half. Not full. Half. There's your loophole now go back to sleep. Yap any more and he'll roll on top of you. Good luck talking with a mouth full of hair.

Perfume (Developed): This comes about in an awkward manner. Beastmen have keen smell. It's a given. Bada bing, bada boom, Leona knows your scent. He could point out the Ramshackle Prefect from a half-mile radius. Now he's never said your scent is unpleasant. Quite the contrary, although the lion would never admit it. The issue here is that your scent acts as a calling card, and Leona is clingy. So you ask Vil for the most popular perfume, potion, cologne - whatever - and start wearing it to mask your scent. At least enough so Leona's de-buffed to a one-fourth mile radius. It doesn't work entirely. No perfume is that strong. It's also an active assault on Leona's nose...but it had to be done. Side note - this was his plan all along. He isn't keen on non-human folk sniffing you out easily. Beastmen, most Mermen, and even select Fae have keen noses. Not that his own scent isn't a deterrent, but some masking perfume is worth the occasional nose-shank if it keeps snickering busybodies off your tail when he isn't around.

"Here. Take this and throw out whatever crap it is you've got on. You want me to say it flat? You reek." <- Take the scent masking balm he's giving and don't shop retail ever again. His nose hairs are literally burning off. The balm costs more than your entire dorm to make, but Leona won't ever admit it. You have an ultimatum. It's either this, or wearing one of his old vests around Savanaclaw. Now unless you want to be twinning with him and Ruggie, do the man a favor and comply.

Hair Ties (Developed): Bless his genetics for that wonderful, silky mane - but he needs to tame it. With how smothering Leona can be, you end up with a mouthful of hair at least twice a day. Man is tall, and he loves using his prefect as a leaning post. Which is cute but he sheds. So your arm is perpetually wrapped with hair-ties 24/7 like a cased sausage, because every time you give him one it disappears. It's on purpose, of course. He also snaps them whenever you aren't paying attention. Spiteful bas-

Biting (Inherited): Biting is a common display of affection in beastfolk culture. Not that Leona ever bothered to tell you this. His little nips (in no small amount) were usually passed off as punishments for being annoying. A lie, naturally. One could say it’s the human equivalent of cute aggression? Yet it has more meaning since it’s reserved for close connections such as family and lover. Although drawing blood or leaving a mark behind is reserved for the latter. You had to learn all this from a textbook, of course. No one in Savanaclaw was going to butt into Leona’s affairs, and Ruggie found your ignorance a funny game to taunt his Housewarden with. You were on your own, on a quest to save your skin. Literally.

Regardless, it’s Leona’s way of affection. Bonus points since he can do it without you knowing why. It’s only natural that you return the favor, playing along whenever he has to hold composure. Acting as if you don’t know and relishing in his micro- reactions. It’s only a matter of time before he figures you out, but it’s so nice to have the upper hand for once.

"That's for showin' up late. Don't like it? Not my problem...yawn if is' so bad, just take my bandanna...Why do you care if it's got Savana colors? Ya spend enough time 'round here, no one's gonna say anything." <- If it really bothered you, he'd stop. King of consent and of reading body language. Otherwise it's a go-go. Also if someone did have a problem with you sporting Savanaclaw colors? He doesn't need to kick their ass. Beastfolk got better hearing than most, and if one of his overhears you getting shit for wearing their dorm's colors then the classic night raven pride will pop out.

Habits He Steals:

Vegetables (Inherited): Leona sticks to meat, cheese, bread, and more meat. Bring on the steak. Bring on the beef. Bring on the deluxe cutlet sandwiches. Savanaclaw's kitchen is the most costly of all the dorms purely for how much Beastmen eat. If Ruggie can guzzle down seven plates in a sitting yet still look like a stick? Imagine a Lion's appetite. No one knows how you managed to get this guy to eat a salad like a true herbivore, but it's a cold day in the Savanaclaw dormitory when Leona's facing down a spinach side-salad on top of his lunch. Meanwhile you're happily munching away at the table, picking random veggies off your own plate to put on his. Each instance accompanied by an agitated twitch of his tale, but the lion's eerily silent. Dire Crowley is right. The Ramshackle Prefect is a Beast Tamer indeed...

"Now I know you didn't just pick at my plate, herbivore. Your luck's running thin...Oi. That's enough. I'll sooner eat one of your limbs than another turnip" <- he, in fact, did eat the turnip. The threat scared his underclassmen so much, that seeing you come around still in one piece the next day earned you a warrior's respect.

Correspondence (Developed): Leona's used to getting a sea of letters from ministers, attendants, and a particular little menace back at the palace. Unless it was an urgent message - he'd let the letters go unchecked after skimming them. Replying always took too much effort, and he'd rather not encourage unexpected visits like during the annual Magiift tournament. That is until you start receiving them as well. Nowhere near the amount Leona deals with - but he'd rather die than have his family telling you things without the ability to intercept. Falena blackmails him into responding to Cheka's letters, or else the little furball is going to use you as a penpal for writing practice. Side Note 2.0 - regardless of Leona's 'cooperative' ways, you still write to the mini lion in 'secret'. He knows but gave up caring.

"Another one? Just toss the damn thing. No - hmph. Give me that. I'll respond, just don't start up the lecture." <- You always manage to find the letters Cheka sends over before Leona can get to them. It clicks that you're a middle-man once they start showing up at Ramshackle instead of his dorm. Leona can't wait too long to respond, otherwise you'll start harping him over how cute the kid's handwriting is or whatever picture he drew. He lets you keep them. Cheka's got his own exhibit on the Ramshackle fridge.

Accommodating (Developed): Leona’s not necessarily a ‘verbal’ communicator, despite his smart mouth that always manages to get the last word. He will not openly lend his aid without a bit of pressing before hand - his pride would never allow it. Take the three days you and Grim stayed in his dorm as an example. Inevitably you earned the right to crash in his room, but there was a roundabout to get there. Mainly for show, since in Savanaclaw things are earned not given. You also weren’t close back then. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone, even if they’re from a different dorm or stranded homeless by some octopunks.

The tides change for you, and only for you. His morals are held high, and his ability to treat a partner well is no exception. There is no glory in being above your supposed equal. Everything is shared. This means Leona’s room is now your room, just as Ramshackle is now partly his. He’s clearing some of his closet out, filling it with your stuff, and doing the same back at your place. Doesn’t even ask and doesn’t give a damn that there are dozens of open rooms. It’s the principle. Sharing a space is letting someone see your most vulnerable being. Not that he’d think you could ever do any significant damage (lies) - but considering he doesn’t want anyone within a five foot radius during his leisure time, Leona giving you open access speaks volumes.

"Hah? So what? It's not like I'm forcin' them into it. Got a problem with how I act? Enlighten me." == Talk about nonchalont. Leona is well aware of the imprint he's left on you. He sees it in the way you talk. The way you think. Not just in the chess matches he makes you sit through over and over. Round after round until you can put him into check. You're confident. You're demanding. You're ripe potential that he got to first before anyone else. You chose him, and no amount of backtalk on your end outshines that you like him enough to mimic his ways. The Ramshackle Prefect’s presence isn't something people can overlook anymore, and Leona is damn proud that he's left a mark.

Habits You Steal:

Extreme Couponing/Haggling (Inherited): If you do not think Ruggie spends his Sunday mornings going through sales ads? You are sorely mistaken. This man is an absolute menace when it comes to hitting the market and squeezing a shop-keep for everything they are worth. Sam fears no creature in all of Twisted Wonderland aside from this particular hyena. Screw fighting blot - grab some popcorn and kick back to observe the game of verbal chess those two engage in every week. It's more entertaining than any battle or show. You will become Ruggie's apprentice. Ain't no partner of his going through life without the ability to haggle. Sam stands no chance.

“Ya get this week’s ad? Good. C’mon over and we’ll get the clippings going. I think I saw somethin’ about a buy-one get-two on those candies ya like. Maybe if your nice enough, I’ll shmooze Sam for a bonus!” <- Ruggie honestly enjoys having a coupon buddy. He makes a show about how you take too long, and that if you don’t wake up early then he won’t stick around! Can’t miss the sale, so he isn’t lying there. Except he does grab what you need on the off chance you do miss the meetup. Side note - he doesn’t just take an apprentice without ulterior motives. This is all in preparation for you to handle the slum markets. If you can’t fight off a few broke students, then you won’t last a day back home.

"Shishishishi" (Inherited): There is no escaping it. For the countless times you've poked fun at his little wheezy laugh - imagine the utter mortification when it came not from him! No no. From you. It's unconscious and in the moment you don't recognize anything wrong. You were only laughing over a won victory against Sam. That new lamp you wanted for your work-desk finally within reach, and 70% off no less! Said conman looks at you with eyes blown wide, because great seven there are two of them now. It takes a moment for self-awareness to hit, but you're too late. Two fuzzy-satellites atop a mop of shaggy blonde curls perk up, and your laugh from before echoes from the original culprit's mouth.

“I heard that! You’re doin’ it wrong. Gotta put more air, Shishishi~” <- Ruggie’s a taunting little turd on a good day. Be prepared. You won’t be living this down. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Next thing is to train ya in the art of sticky fingers - no? Ugh. Fine. Ya Goodie-Goodie.

Hands Up! (Inherited): Ruggie has a very unique way of standing. Hands behind his head, laced together to support his neck. One hip normally supports most of his weight, and he's always in a deep-slouch. Bro doesn’t need to cast ‘Laugh With Me’ for his movements to be mirrored, because you’re already following along without realizing. Leona finds the mimicry unsettling. Take that freaky shit out of his line of sight.

Habits He Steals:

Sharing Food (Developed): This is the inner hyena coming out. Just like in the slums, it's demanded to share amongst your own. He might be a sleaze to other people, but not to you. This also backfires into Ruggie thinking that what's yours is his as well - but that's not the point. He'll plop down next to you at dinner and wordlessly offer up half of his meal. You need more meat on those bones, he'll say if protested. In turn he'll then take half of your dessert. It's a sign of trust, instinctively believing that whatever's on your plate is safe to eat. Yet also shows that he's taken you as one of his - and that's a privilege no one at NRC has. No strings attached because everything you both have is shared. On a side note, you'll never be-rid of Ruggie once this comes to pass.

Shared Wardrobe (Developed): Again with the collective treasure hoard, but with a twist. Ruggie can essentially squeeze into most clothing or modify them to his needs. If it works, then it works. So he'll happily offer up any modified dregs he has for your usage, and in turn he will claim whatever clothes you aren't overly attached to. There is also the matter of scent, of course. Ruggie is the type of person to cut up one of your old pajama shirts and fashion arm-bands, making sure to have one knotted around his bicep at all times. You in turn are welcome to swipe his bandanna at your leisure in place of that tacky uniform tie.

“Hey…you seen my blaz - hah? Uh, nevermind. I’ll go grab somethin’ else. Where’d ya leave the heavier coat Gran sent over. Forget it, I’ll just go check myself” <- The first time you snag one of his oversized blazers or hoodies gets him. It gets him bad. Sharing with Leona was one thing but, c'mon. Warn a guy would ya? You're so lucky he's an opportunist on quick feet, so of course he’ll take the chance to steal something you wear often. Ruggie’s great at brushing off any taunts or quips. Being Leona’s right hand gets him stable back at Savanclaw, but that doesn’t take away years of being the underdog. Whether the other beastfolk stare at him openly brandishing your clothes means little, if anything, he enjoys it. Cause once again the underdog’s got a top prize.

Caffeine Addiction (Inherited): Ruggie spends more time and effort running around than most. His *hobby* is doing part-time work. Those overpriced sugar-loaded drinks never appealed to him because why waste money when powering through is just as effective? Or chugging some ice water? Yet you seemingly always have some sort of caffeine to make it through the hell NRC dishes out, and Ruggie being a mooch is always there to steal at least 1/3 of it. Now he’s trained and gets extremely sluggish around mid-day without a dose. It’s your fault if he falls off his broom during spelldrive practice.

"Wha'cha trying to say with that tone, huh? Think I'm not good enough? 's that it? There're way worse chumps to take after. Way I see it? They're learnin' how to make it in this world, sha ha ah! So thanks!...eh, why're you still here? Shoo already." == Considering rumors never have anything good to say about Ruggie's attitude, he's not dumb enough to take the little 'compliment' as genuine. More like as a backhanded sight towards your relationship. Rugs could care less about what those nobodies have to say. Not like they've got anything he's after, just some busybodies that scurry off with their tail between their legs when things get rough. Even if you catch word of it, Ruggie ain't going to get pissy because they're right. Everything they're saying is right, he is rubbing off on you. He is actively trying to. Life isn't a peach and it's not like he's strong enough to protect you from the hardships. It'll be a big laugh if you pull that righteous crap and try to defend his honor, though. Someone better get it on camera.

Habits You Steal:

Paternal Disappointment (Inherited): There was a time, a simpler time, a Jack-less time...when you were a fool. No. You are one to this day, but it is better tamed under Jack's strict aura of perpetual disappointment. Once on the side of being scolded with Ace and Deuce, you are now the one doing the scolding. You are not fun anymore. There is a stick shoved so far up your ass, and it's now part of your internal organ system. Ace dubs you a traitor, as does Grim. You've gone to the dark side in exchange for the morally sound wolfboy to offer cuddles and the occasional snack. I'm sorry to tell you this dear prefect but you've become....*gasp* the (mom/dad) friend.

“Boring? Who said you were boring?…don’t listen to those jerks. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. They’re just upset that they can’t get away with murder anymore - Uh, not t-that I was jealous or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! . Hmph.” <- Jack doesn’t take offense when others call him names, but he doesn’t like when you’re brought into it. At all. Especially because he used to be jealous how you, Ace, Grim and Deuce were more tight-knit than with any of the other first years. Like a pack. That behavior is childish, and Jack hates that he used to think that way. As if your attention was something he had to fight over. It's not like he wanted the same bond you shared with those three either, that's friendship and he wanted more. By being with you, Jack knew that it was going to put him on a different tier than the others. That's just what happens. Part of him feels guilty that you might be losing face because of him. His reputation isn’t bad, but he does have a resting angry face. Reassure him in turn and Jack will be over the moon. Any happier and his wagging tail can become a makeshift duster for the dorm (Were he on earth, he’d definitely get the nickname ‘tails’. After the sonic character, just to clarify)

Meal Prep (Inherited): This is actually an amazing influence and is wonderful for someone on a tight-schedule. You're not going to be eating high-protein meals every night, neither wasting away in an attempt to chug down pre-workout shakes. That's on Jack and Jack alone. Helping him prep meals is a nice touch and a pleasant evening spent together once a week. You don't become strict with it, but Jack does convince you to at least prepare some of your favorite dishes as snacks/emergency meals. He also constantly shoves energy water and vitamins in your bag. No more cup-noodle or scrap sandwiches on those nights you don't reach the mess hall on time. Now you have balanced meals, and get to flaunt matching containers with your boyfriend. Very cute. Everyone hates both of you.

"Uh...are all those stickers really necessary? I know we agreed on matching boxes but this is a bit...No! I'm not embarrassed! Gah, just keep it to a minimum. Nothing that falls off or sparkles." <- He is flustered beyond compare after every track meet. At first he barely bat an eye, thinking nothing of the orange bento box with chibi-cactus stickers and his name written in bold bubble lettering on top. You decorated it just for him, and if it meant you would carry around a spare meal then that's even more incentive. Yet the smell of fresh food attracts jocks after a meet like nothing else, and the teasing was relentless. It isn't enough to stop him from enjoying his meal, though.

Lint Roller (Developed): Leona sheds, but Jack? He is like owning six full-grown huskies. He apologizes profusely for the shedding, especially since the NRC uniforms are black. You run through lint rollers like Deuce runs through eggs. It isn't Jack's fault, but man. Ramshackle collects both dust and fur bunnies these days.

Habits He Steals:

Piggy-Back(Developed):Jack carries you everywhere. He's normally very patient but when there's a place to be? Well, he wants to get there on time. Jack has a strict bedtime at 10:00pm sharp and so his free hours are scarce. Do you want enough time to enjoy the lakeside as planned? If so, hop on his back so no time is wasted. Jack also pressures you to join him for morning and evening jogs. He refuses to give up his diligence, but also is acutely aware that there is little spare time he can afford you during the week. Either you have to keep up with him, or you're getting used as a makeshift weight and being hauled across campus. Relationships need quality time to grow and this is the perfect excuse to hog your attention for two hours every day. Not that he'd admit it, but the swish of his tail while you chat is enough to tell Jack's enjoying his runs much more than before.

"Are you comfortable? Just let me know if I'm going too quick. I'll try not to jostle you around too much...if you're tired then take a nap. I'll wake you when we're back home." <- He'd prefer if you didn't sleep. It messes with your circadian rhythm, but the whole point of this is to help you relax. Just knowing you're with him is enough to make Jack happy. Rain or shine, no excuses. If it's cold he'll let you use his hair to block out the chill, although he'd never let you out in anything less than the proper gear. Even if he joins Deuce or Vil on occasion - you're his favorite running partner.

Safety (Developed): Jack asks you to text him twice a day. Once in-between class, even though you’ll be spending lunch together, and once before bed at 9:30pm. The morning isn’t needed since he’s your alarm clock. He understands that as a prefect, you don’t have a curfew like the majority of students. Yet he is communicative with concerns about you being outside of Ramshackle late after dark. Even when you were just friends, hearing the story of when A-Deuce hauled you to that abandoned mine in the middle of the night? The blot monster and how close it came to you guys not making it? Magic or not, that would worry anyone with common sense. It doesn’t help that Ramshackle has no security beyond its resident ghosts.

"- and you just went with them? Because the headmaster told you to? Are you insane!?...No. You're right. What's done is done. Just...call me if something like that ever happens again." <- Thank the seven Jack's hair is already white.

Jack never thought he’d care this much about anyone. When your partner is a walking heart-attack, in the best way possible mind you, one just wants some piece of mind.

Covering Ears (Inherited): It's a natural response to cover your ears when frightened. Like when watching a scary movie and you don't want to hear what comes next. Jack covers his ears because they're sensitive, and loud noises can cause a migraine quicker than anything else. Especially when they're sudden. His hearing is more sensitive than most, being a wolf beastman. It's almost on par with Leona's. Yet his first instinct when there is a loud noise is to cover your ears instead of his. Even though you're human, the instinct to protect them takes over. It's also his way of being within arm's reach in case of a threat. You must be scared being in a new place. Jack will never let himself forget that. Nor how brave you are for continuing on regardless.

"What a relief...huh? Nah, I didn't say anything. Isn't there a test coming up in Alchemy next week? Want to hit the books together?" == The type to divert the topic as quick as possible, on the chance that he lets too much slip. Needless to say that Jack is relieved to hear that you're mimicking him on an unconscious level. It means that you trust him. That you respect him and see him as an equal. It's the biggest compliment Jack can ever ask for. If people are automatically associating you together, then it means he's done his job. You're part of his pack - and outsiders can recognize it at first glance. He'll do a good job at hiding how happy it made him, but expect that tail to wag at torpedo speed the next time he sees you.

[nineinchnailsonchalkboard]

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