#i forgot to add those tags above whoops

[deathandthemaiden23]

bro psa sketchfab has free 3d rips of death's character model (and also puss and kitty) from the dreamworks racing game and my eyes are pissing tears of joy

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

pt. 2: Tomorrow (pt. 1) (pt. 3) (pt. 4)

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Meet cute (in part 1), getting to know each other, falling in love walking through gloomy London, George Karim is a silly guy, but he’s one of the best silly guys ever, Nerd Reader, No angst, light swearing, Lockwood and co friendships, I might be forgetting some tags whoops, mention of a creep creeping around the reader from the previous part, George’s recklessness is inspired by Lucy and Lockwood

Notes: I adore George, really, especially in the tv adaptation. I felt like I needed to say that, lovely guy. Forgot to add until now, there will be a part 3! This little series has become a comfort to me and I would love to write out their story

Summary: George takes you up on your offer to meet again, and after waking up late he finds it to have been a wonderful experience. Lucy and Lockwood begin trading details (mostly because George refuses to tell them about all the reckless things he’s been starting to do).

Typically, for junior agents, waking up in the early morning was as impossible as being able to clock out before sundown. Their line of work exposed them not only to the dangers of terrifying ghosts, the possible paralysis, and the high odds of death, but also to the detriment that is being made a night-owl in a world where most of society lives and breathes in the day. For those in Lockwood and co. this might mean missing out on the latest shipment of salt bombs and flares; or even missing out on a nice outing to the library with a would-be friend.

The latter of which, George happens to be doing right now.

“George!” Lucy yelps as she jumps to the wall of the main hall, George running past her. He yells a muffled apology through whatever’s sticking out his mouth and runs up the stairs.

“Everything alright?” Lockwood calls, popping his head out the kitchen. His cheeks are stuffed full of something he’s barely able to speak through.

“Yeah, fine. I don’t know about George though, is he alright?” She asks, corralling them both into the kitchen. The dining table’s all set, with a center serve bowl in the middle filling the air with something appetizing and delicious. She quickly settles down and helps herself to a good serving, seeing as George’s already put his plate away and Lockwood’s halfway through his.

“He’s meeting up with someone in the library, kept saying his alarm didn’t go off and ran about in a panic.” He swallows with a satisfied hum as a boyish smile paints his face. “Still made a banging breakfast though, that George.”

Lucy raises a brow at him, but chuckles in amusement. From somewhere above, they can hear George stomping about. It doesn’t worry Lucy, because he’s not stomping about in the way he does when he’s really panicked, so neither she nor Lockwood can step in or they might just make it worse by getting in the way. Really, Lockwood himself would go upstairs to calm George down if he’d made himself mad with worry.

“Is this the one he owes new shoes?” Lucy asks, putting down her spoon gently and throwing Lockwood a look. It’s now that she recalls what George had told her yesterday just as he walked in.

“He owes someone new shoes?”

At half past ten, George finally makes it to the library. He’s not dressed up or put together more than usual, in jeans, a loose t-shirt he’d likely borrowed from someone, and his windbreaker jacket. A messenger bag hangs off him, and tucked under his other arm are the books he’d taken out yesterday. Really, he looks like he fits right in with the ghouls and the haunts lurking about the library this early; scholars with little to no sleep and others simply looking for a place to do just that. He spots you easily after making his way to where he met you yesterday.

You’re just… sitting there, really, but he’s suddenly overtaken by nerves. It’s not the kind of nerves you might get from being ghost-locked, where you’re thrown into a torpor and left to die, but it’s not much easier to deal with. You’re sitting there looking the epitome of an obsessive scholar, hunched over a book and a notepad to the side, and he can’t help but feel like he wanted to be there right by you and just read every line and curve of your face. It’s embarrassing, really, but late to regret anything, as you look up and beam at him and suddenly the nerves are all gone.

“Come on over, George! Don’t just hang about!” You greeted just as he ambled. You had a pen in one hand hovering over a notepad while the other was carefully pressing a book open; truly caught between the lines and the pages, but still beaming at him so assuredly.

“You remembered where we sat,” he said, not really asking. Carefully settling himself down, he all but mirrored you in the way he was set up, eyeing your grin through his lashes.

Then you said, so softly he felt his heart might burst, “Of course I did, meeting you left quite the lasting impression, George.”

He swallows harshly, ducking his head into his book. “You’re not bad yourself.”

You both fall into a wordless, comfortable silence filled with only the distant sounds of the library that don’t reach. Every so often, you’d wordlessly trade a pen or share a note; make him smile or chuckle at a drawing you’d pass over. It reminded him of the thinking cloth back home, and somehow he felt like you’d fit right in with them.

Lucy and Lockwood would like you right away, even if they were skeptical and cautious people, because of your cunning wit and enchanting grin. That— He shakes the thought out of his head and glances back up at you. When your eyes meet, you do nothing but grin, and his heart keeps beating loudly in his ears.

Just as you’re both packing up to leave, he catches you looking over your shoulder with your eyes darting the whole room. He keeps packing, but once you’re both out the door, he simply asks, “That dick still bothering you?”

Sheepishly, you say, “Not as much, but… yeah.”

He decides something then, just as reckless as yesterday when he offers, “Want me to walk home with you?”

You grin, and he doesn’t think he could ever tire of the sight.

On the trip home, George is walking with you again even though where you live isn’t that close to Portland Row at all. He’d made an excuse about keeping you out of trouble, and you smiled so wide he felt that he had made the best decision of the day. Aside from keeping Lucy and Lockwood about his recklessness, anyways.

It’s easy conversation between the two of you, even when you put your research aside. George meant it when he told Lockwood and Lucy once that the Problem had defined their whole lives, that it loomed over them with a pressing hand. It loomed still, really. Curfew came up more than once, and you and George each had a go at your sharing your theories on the Problem. He talked himself near tired on the topic of ghost cults and their stupidity, and you brought up incident after incident in the long list of hauntings in London.

Somewhere along the line though, talk about Curfew and Visitors drifted into softer, warmer topics about the silliest things there were; what were his favourite colours? What were yours? If you could only eat one kind of cuisine for the rest of your life, what would it be? Those sorts of questions; the sort of questions you’d ask in another world where things aren’t so wrong.

George doesn’t know what to make of the fact that you bring this out of him, that something about you makes him wonder about a better world where the Problem hadn’t become the Problem. Along the streets of gloomy London with a timer ticking away elsewhere, George feels like he can already imagine a world where there wasn’t a single worry about the Visitors. All because he had you to ramble along with.

Soon you’d stumbled on the topic of your lives at home, what it was like for both of you where you lived. George found himself telling you all of the things he’d never thought about telling anyone before: how it endeared him when Lucy would stop by his room on hard days just to check up on him and was always ready in case he just needed someone who could listen, or how Lockwood sometimes tries to cook some of George’s favourite dishes just to return the favour even though he’s rubbish in the kitchen and couldn’t cook an egg to save his life.

“They sound lovely,” You say kindly, watching the light of warmth dance in his eyes. They don’t dim even when he turns to you, and you swear your heart stops when you see his lips curve into a gorgeous smile.

“They are. Annoying, but, I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else,” if I even could, he adds wordlessly. He really wouldn’t be able to tolerate anyone else but them… and maybe you. He turns away from you just as your house comes into view, the lights peeking like the sun passing the horizon at dawn. It makes him think about home at Portland Row.

You take a few steps up to the door, but turn back before you click it open. George’s eyes lock on yours, and though the breeze is cold hanging in the air, you feel your heart pounding against your ribs and your blood rushes faster. George doesn’t look away. You fumble for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and George waits patiently.

“Would you like to meet up again? Whenever you can?” You settle on instead, feeling the breath leave you.

He watches you in the wind, framed by the threshold of your doorway. “Yeah, I’d love to. Tomorrow?”

You feel giddy again, just like last time as you say goodbye. When the door closes and George is out of sight, you give yourself a little cheer. Unbeknownst to you, George is smiling on the way home.

“George? Home early again?” Lucy greets him with a smile, plucking his books out from under his arm to help him. Lockwood’s behind her, the picture of mischief, and he suddenly knows where this is going.

“I didn’t go on a date,” he says quickly, but it just makes the two grin wider, “I just went to the library to catch up on some reading. It’s too loud at home with you two.”

“And it wasn’t loud with this… mystery person, George?” Lockwood singsongs, the absolute prick. George could just about swat him, but he feels too lazy. Luckily Lucy does it for him, and sends Lockwood a scolding look that has him reeling it in.

“Did you have fun at least, George?” Lucy asks instead, and Lockwood stops pouting when George gives a terse nod.

He runs a hand over one of the notes you’d stuck on his book, and simply says, “I’m going back early tomorrow.”

Lucy starts teasing him then too, and Lockwood takes it as a chance to do the same.

A/N: I had a very emotionally taxing conversation with my mother yesterday and had to delay this and any other piece’s posting until I could have the time and energy to edit it (which is today, the day after). Writing for George comes easiest to me, but it’s because it’s so easy to imagine the scene in my head that it’s rather hard to be descriptive without going off on a tangent. So, easiest and hardest to write for. Still love him dearly though.

[whyamistillwatchingtheseshows]

Attempted to tag everyone who wanted this, some blogs did not show up: @macandcheens @missyriver @kdramama @morathicain @2moonsandsaphael @equviocallover  @audoldends @tataheh @inconvenientlysociallyawkward

@waynevyes @kimjungmalfoy @flower-of-the-desert @missmonggyustblr @ihaveabitofanattitudeproblem @lira21-universe @out-in-the-cold @amfforest

@thehuns-bubble-tea @johnnys-wigg @allmylovelychildren @sekinni @marife81

@trying-to-touch-the-stars @ulzzangcouplez @helpilovebts @above-the-angelic-horizon @thi-is-not-wonderland​ @elbarsk​ @ilovemytumbler​ @annaabelle623​

Going to add a few others because I just think you might enjoy it? @negrowhat​ @yeollbae​ @tharnstype​ 

Thanks for the shove and now it’s in the void for you to enjoy. 

“Give me your body and let me love you like I do Come a little closer and let me do those things to you This feeling will last forever, baby, that's the truth Let me be your man so I can love you” Let Me by ZAYN

A shirtless Tharn sat on the couch eating vanilla ice cream. Type appeared from the bathroom, wrapped in just a towel. “You forget to bring your clothes to the bathroom again? Could’ve called for them.” Tharn gave him a smirk as he spooned some ice cream into his mouth, facetiously smacking his lips as he eyed his boyfriend’s glistening chest.

“Can I help you?” Type raises an eyebrow. Tharn only spooned some more ice cream, but it never made it to his mouth, because on this particular night Type’s just showered look was driving him insane.

“Don’t mind me. Get dressed,” Tharn laughed and gestures to the dresser. As if he was going to let him get dressed.The ice cream was now dripping so Tharn dropped the spoon back into the bowl. Type went to the dresser. Tharn tried to reach for the towel, but Type jumped away.

“Want some?” Type rolled his eyes. “Come on,” Tharn lunged, because in all truthfulness Type didn’t jump that faraway in the first place. His hand connected with a wrist and he pulled Type onto the couch. The towel almost came loose, but Type quickly hooked it back. There was just enough of a slit showing off Type’s thigh to drive Tharn crazier with anticipation. “Come on, have some.” Tharn spooned some ice cream and started for Type’s mouth then he “accidentally” let it fall onto Type’s chest. His boyfriend hissed, eyes glazing over with playful lust.

“Whoops,” Tharn smiled. “Let me get that.” Type just sat there, his eyebrows communicating: what are you waiting for? Tharn dived in, licking the delicious, sweet treat off of his chest. Tharn couldn’t resist so his hand found the towel opening and slid up a thigh. Type’s head fell back against the couch. Tharn stopped his hand from going any further. Type looked at him, a pleading gaze in his eyes. “Patience. I know you have none, but patience.”

“Jerk!” Type exclaimed. Then with such softness in his voice, “I haven’t had any ice cream.”

“Oh, I can fix that.” Type watched as his boyfriend covered his lips with vanilla ice cream, a generous amount hanging on his bottom lip. He blinked several times and started laughing. Tharn didn’t have to ask, though. A tongue attacked his lips. The taste of vanilla exploded in Type’s mouth as their tongues collided into a very sweet, sticky kiss. Tharn kept a hold of the kiss for as long as he could until he slid off the couch and down to his knees. Type let out a huff. Tharn jerked away the towel, lips pressed into his thigh and Type had no chance to complain.

“Tharn,” Type murmured.

“Hmmm,” he looked up.

“Get your lips back up here.” Tharn would oblige but his lips would work their way up. From an ankle, up the thigh, at the hip, over the abdomen, lingering longer on the neck, then the jaw into the cheek, and finally to his lips. Type kissed back feeling himself get harder by the minute. Then he jerked Tharn’s head back, kissed his chin and said, “Sit back down on the couch.” Tharn pouted a little bit, because he was hoping to resume the earlier position with his face in Type’s lap. The grip on his hair tightened. Tharn groaned and sat on the couch. It was Type’s turn to jerk away obstructing material and toss it away. Boxers were yanked over Tharn’s hips and then flew over Type’s shoulder onto the floor. Tharn took in a deep breath as his beautifully naked boyfriend sank into his lap. Tharn hooks arms around him as he feels a hand curl up his neck. Type bites his lip and leans in for a kiss. There’s one thing he’ll never get over: when Tharn smiles into a kiss. Feeling that smile against his lips sends Type to a different place. Type pressed into him and Tharn breathlessly let go of his lips. With impressive strength, Tharn lifted Type. He giggled, which Type would never admit to in the morning, but he knew Tharn would definitely remind him about it. Tharn laid him onto the bed. Every so often they moved the birthday box. This time it was just hanging out on the end table, probably because someone(Type) forgot to put it back in their hiding place. Tharn sat on the edge of the bed to open it and let out a heavy sigh. “Type, we’ve almost finished this box.” Type’s hands gripped shoulders and he peeked over to inspect the box.

“Shit. Three left? Impossible.”

“I feel like Techno might have something funny to say if he were here,” Tharn jokes. Type squeezes Tharn by the chin. That eyebrow was going to town again.

“Techno isn’t here,” he growled. “And would never be in this situation.” Tharn set the condom on the end table, because he knew his joke would force them to reset the mood. He turned around, keen on getting his face back into Type’s lap, but then he softly smiled.

“We’ve barely started, but if you want to sleep now that’s okay.” Tharn brushes hair from Type’s forehead and kisses it. Type’s eyes fly open and a smirk covers his face as he rolls Tharn onto the bed.

“Oh, I’m far from done.” Type crashes lips onto Tharn’s neck. Then he suddenly stops. Tharn gives him a confused look as he sits up on elbows to gaze at a beautiful ass while it grabs the bowl of ice cream from the coffee table.

“That’s probably melted by now.”

“Yeah, and?” Type smirks. He pushes Tharn back against the headboard. There was a pool of vanilla ice cream in the bowl, some melted, some still hanging on. Type doesn’t mess around, doesn’t tease anything. He climbs into Tharn’s lap and just dumps the sticky mess onto his chest, watching it drip down to his belly button. Impressively Tharn didn’t budge. He just looked down at his chest then back to Type. “Where you going to start?” Tharn fingered some of the ice cream and yanked Type by the neck with the other hand. Type smiles realizing that this where Tharn wanted him to start and so he steadies a hand with his, brushing the ice cream finger across his lips, then he puts it into his mouth, making a very very loud suckingsound. Tharn chuckled and then Type quickly changed direction. There was a chunk of ice cream right in the middle of his chest. Type graciously lapped it up and then let his tongue travel down to catch the ice cream that continued to drip. He scooted down, holding Tharn by the hips on his way, his tongue cleared the ice cream, letting his lips hover just above a now hard again boyfriend.

“Type,” Tharn murmurs as a tongue flicks over a head. “I want to taste your lips.”

“They’re busy,” Type snickers and continues, taking Tharn whole now. Tharn propped hands at the side of Type’s head knowing exactly what to do to stop him. With slow movement he started forcing Type’s mouth over him. “You know I don’t like that as much as you do,” Type grumbled. He looked up to give him a glare. Type tried again, but with a cheeky smile Tharn also stopped him again. Type huffed. He was really adamant on doing this, because Tharn looked on with surprise as his tongue went to try again, but he snatched Type by the shoulders, flipping him hard into the bed. “I like this way better,” Tharn ventures down and his mouth sank over him whole as he gladly placed Type’s hands into his hair. Since Tharn liked it so much he pressed his head into his lap harder, as hard and as fast as Tharn would allow because sometimes a hand over his meant slow down. Often, Tharn has no objections because he wanted his mouth stuffed. Type enjoyed every part of his throat as it swallowed him, the sounds were music to his ears but he was getting antsy now. “Tharn, fuck me please. Tharn.” Type’s back arched into the bed when surprise fingers pushed inside of him. Tharn’s lips were now kissing into thighs as fingers kept getting Type ready. Type groaned. “Babe, stop fuckingteasing me.” Tharn loved it when he sounded grumpy but the words also came out of his mouth with such a whining softness. Calling him “Babe” also drove him crazy so Tharn jumped to his knees, arms completely cradling Type upward to lean him against the headboard. Type reaches for the condom; pretty confident the mood has been set. Then his big mouth starts a conversation meant for later. “Do we always have to use these?” Tharn’s eyes went wide. He could feel the surprise in them as he gulped. He merely took the condom from Type, opened it and put it on. “We can talk about that later,” Tharn chuckled. Type sheepishly grinned, Tharn kissed his cheeks that were flushing red and rubbed warm ears that turned the color of a tomato. Tharn latches hands to cradle him again and easier than expected, Type falls onto him holding fast to neck and shoulders. Sloppy kissing ensues, lips glisten with wetness as Type starts to bounce. For a moment neither of them manages to say a word. Only heavy breathing fills the studio apartment. Tharn readjusts positions, sitting himself in the middle of the bed, legs wide. Type’s teeth sink into his shoulder as he bounced faster. He could sense what Tharn wanted to do next so Type put his face within inches of his, “I thought I told you to fuck me.” Tharn scooted all the way down, Type felt the lift underneath and then reached around to help Tharn back inside. He gave him a single hard thrust to set the pace. “Shit!” Type sneered, but had eyes full of yearning, “Is that all you got?” Tharn scrambled to grab Type, pulling him down to his chest. “F-fuck,” Type stuttered as Tharn quickened his pace. He sneered back, “Is this what you want? Hmm?” Type answered by grabbing a face and sloppily kissing it again. Tharn kept thrusting, faster and harder, especially when he caught a gasp in his mouth. Tharn smiled as Type buried his face into his neck, fingers digging into one shoulder. He kept thrusting but then sat them up. Type feverishly grabbed face again. Tharn only allows him to have a small kiss this time. He reached for Type, raking a thumb over his head. It made him hiss and start bouncing again like Tharn wanted.

Type wasn’t small but seeing him fit inside his ’arms like this made Tharn feel as if this were meant to be. With a grin he melted his lips to Type’s. The movements quickened. “Thaaarn,” Type moaned in his ear. It’s like with just his name, Type begged for him to finish. For him to scoot down again and thrust upward. Type let go with a small whimper. Tharn felt a little on his abdomen and then for good measure he wrapped a hand around him as he continued fucking. Type let out another gasp and teeth found Tharn’s shoulder again. Tharn felt a small leg shake, then he collapsed onto him, and Tharn felt amazed every time. That glazed over look of pleasure will always be exclusively for him.

“I’m sorry,” Type mumbles as he lays in the crook of Tharn’s shoulder. Some good shivers still jerked at Type’s body, so Tharn started caressing a back to relax him. Then he asked, “For what?”

“You didn’t come did you?” Tharn laughed.

“It doesn’t always matter to me, Type, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me later.” Tharn kissed his nose.  

“Now, I have to shower again.” Type’s nose scrunched up in annoyance and Tharn just had to kiss it again. Type jumped up and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t have to ask Tharn to follow. Once he had Tharn inside, he slammed the door. Tharn had removed the condom on his way in. He tossed it in the bathroom garbage. Type made a grumpy face as he stared at the basically unused thing. From behind, Tharn’s arms enveloped him and he pressed lips to his cheek. “It really doesn’t matter to me.” He reassured his boyfriend. Suddenly, Tharn had a suspicion that Type was going to make up for it sooner rather than later.

“Just get in the shower.” Type turns and pushed him towards it. “I did say earlier, that I’m far from done.”

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (XI)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

(Chapter XI/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

Hey guys! It's been a while! Sorry about that. School's a killer. Thank you guys for being so patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

PS: The title of this chapter is a play on the phrase “the pot calling the kettle black”. I honestly didn't know what to name this chapter but I thought this fit the best and I was trying to be all creative lol

Chapter Warning: I guess a bit of blood?

Taglist: Edit*** Totally forgot to add this whoops DDX If you read this chapter ignore the tag lol******

@freedom-for-bum @reallyfuckingangrylatina @risarisarisaa @ashherssss @mels-heart @xa-dia @shanty-lol @amkxh @chims-kookies @fantasticapple @thalia-luna-hawthorn

------------------------------

XI: The Human Calling the Wolf Beast

Staring at the cavernous hole between his legs was a reminder for Izuku how old and raggedy the outhouse was. Tall wooden walls closed around him. They were rotting with age as a green substance took over the wood’s natural gray color. Izuku had questioned how this place was still standing with the amount of snow storms they had over the months and even the spiders cuddled within their webs in the upper corners of the outhouse had deemed this place safe against the outside forces. The urge to sleep was still upon him that he had not yet realized he had emptied his bladder. He stayed staring into the abyss under him, the sights beyond it shrouded in darkness, he would not know of the amount of defecation huddled at the bottom, nor in this state, did he care.

With a quick shake of his cock in his hands, he stuffed it under the rims of his pants, lifting the waistline until it hugged just under his waist. He exited the outhouse, its door creaking loudly as soon as it was touched, and he kneeled in front of a pile of snow and began to lather his hands in it. It was something his mother taught him whenever there wasn’t any water around to wash his hands. He knew most men would’ve carried on without their hands ever touching water after using the bathroom, and he wanted to believe he wasn’t like most men as what his mother would’ve said. You’re not like most men, Izuku. He heard from time to time again usually whenever he helped her with cooking or cleaning, it wasn’t said as an insult but rather a delightful compliment, pleased at her son for what he has grown up to be.

He wondered what she was doing now. He left her without a word but left a note by the kitchen table under the constraints of a fork. Perhaps, she would read it and leave searching for him or would trust his judgement, ultimately trusting him. Whichever the case, Izuku knew his mother tended to be as soft as him (it was where he got it from), but he believed hidden behind that softness was uncontained determination and once she worked towards a goal, it would be completed with failures and all.

He had a similar outlook. His goal was to find you and so he did, but now he questioned what would come after. Would you still be able to come back to the village despite them declaring you dead?

Izuku sighed inaudibly as the snow crunched under his boots before he reached the backdoor of the cabin. He kicked his boots against the wooden floors, the snow falling from his hooves and left behind at the door. Unfortunately, the cabin didn’t have any lanterns on the walls of its hallway, so the trail of darkness continued to pour through the cabin. Izuku had thought ahead and the tray of a candle he left at the floor was picked up and relit by a match. He walked down the hall, past the kitchen while the floorboards creaked under his weight and in between the bathing room and the kitchen was his room, its door was left ajar. Right across his room was your room and before he could retire for the night, he heard faint sounds coming from behind your door.

At first, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure about a man going into a woman’s room in the late of night. Yes, he grew up with you and there were plenty of days where he slept in your room as a child and vice versa but now as adults, as sexuality buds, even being in close proximity of a person’s room of the opposite sex was a little nerve-wracking.

He was about to abandon the idea to check up on you, already grasping his doorknob and pushing his door open until:

“H-Help…!” A terrible shriek had come.

It wasn’t a second longer until Izuku threw your door open. He expected the worst, like a robber had snuck in while he was using the bathroom or perhaps that wolf from hell was back to torment you and him again. But instead, he stumbled upon you on your bed, tousled limbs in the air as if you were possessed. You were shrieking, tears drowning your face, and dripping onto the mattress as well as your blood that was oddly seeping through the bandages.

He called your name in distress, placing the candle down on a table before grabbing you up by your arms. You started fighting his hold, thrashing your arms to where it nearly hit him in the face. “Wake up! It’s a dream!” He sounded desperate, afraid that if he used any more of his strength that he would hurt you in the process.

“Katsuki…!” You began calling for the wolf from hell and Izuku’s heart sank. How could you still think of him in a positive light when he put you in this position? When he hurt you? He gulped, putting those thoughts behind him when your eyes had shot open. He assumed the fighting would stop, but your eyes being open wasn’t a signifier that you were awake. The screaming remained, the fighting remained, and the calling of a certain wolf’s name remained.

Izuku was suddenly reminded of a moment in time where you had woken up from a fright. Around the age of 5, you woke up crying, reaching out to a startled small Izuku besides you. You were aware you were awake, but you cried for your mother instead, even though she was already dead by that time. Young Izuku, as chivalrous as he was during that age, started to shush you, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back as you sobbed into his chest. It worked as a spell, quieting you down to whimpers as soft as Izuku’s whispers. “It’s okay, ____... I’m here. I’m right next to you…”

So, he held you close to his chest despite your thrashing and his hand held the back of your head, your hair fell between his fingers, and his lips softly pressed against your temple. He brought his other hand over your back, large fingers treading over your shoulders.

“Shh… I’m right here. I’m here…” His breath bounced against your heated forehead when he spoke, his voice smooth like pudding as he pressed his lips to your head again. And just like long ago, you settled down in his arms, returning his hug weakly, your fingers clutched at his back until his shirt crinkled in your grip.

No matter who you called for, as long as Izuku was there, he would embrace you until all was well again.

…

You have never seen the sky so blue before as it hovered over your body, infinite vastness of sapphire stretched past the horizon, beyond the mountains and hills below. The wind swooshed below you, whipping through your hair as it wildly hit your cheeks. It tangled within the air above you, moved by the force from below. Your stomach felt like it was floating in your body, weightless as it twisted and churned the feathery feeling that danced around in your midsection.

How long has it been since you were falling? You couldn’t recall, but it felt like eons since you were on the ground.

…

Izuku was up tending your wound for hours. Before he knew it, the sun had risen into skies covered with thick clouds and heavy snowflakes plummeted to the ground. The chattering of the doors and windows were a reminder of how strong this storm had grown overnight. The cabin could no longer keep the cold out as it was seeping through the tiny cracks between the walls. Already, Izuku could feel you shivering yet he did not know whether it was from the cold or the fever that developed overnight. He knew your wound was quite grave, but he didn’t know it would’ve resulted in a fever. The odd part for him was that no matter how much pressure he added or how tight he wrapped the bandages; your wound wouldn’t stop bleeding. At this rate, you would die from blood loss in just a few hours.

Izuku’s panic urged him to move swiftly, wrapping clean bandages for the umpteenth time around your arm. He was already running out of stock and soon decided it was time to go out to the nearest town to buy some more bandages, ointments, and hopefully stitches.

“I won’t be gone for long,” he whispered, bringing a hand to briefly brush your bangs off your forehead. It was devastating how some strands stuck to your skin because of your sweat. Your skin lacked your usual vibrant color and was left with a pale variant of it. The skin under your eyes were darkened, leaving a sickly appearance if one were to gaze at you. At times, you would wake up, spewing incoherent mumbles before falling back to sleep. It was like your body was desperately trying to conserve all of your energy to heal you, so you couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes.

Just as you grew sicker by the hour, Izuku’s hatred for Katsuki grew to new heights. He began cursing the wolf for what he has done to you. As much as he blamed Katsuki, he blamed himself for the lack of courage he had to save you from him. He should’ve been more protective of you when he started to notice your obsession with wolves. Maybe he could’ve convinced you not to pursue your curiosity and you being deemed dead by the village wouldn’t have happened. Regretting the past did nothing to the results of the present. And so, he would have to live with his guilt until you somehow recovered from this.

Izuku soon left you, throwing on his heavy coat stuffed to the brim with cotton and lined with sheep wool. He slipped on his boots that he left near the door of your room and grabbed a small pouch packed with his money off the table. He quickly made his way to the front of the cabin. Already, he could hear the whistling of the harsh wind outside blowing through the trees and against the cabin, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. His mind was already set on going, he risked his life once for you and he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

The cabin door was thrown open by the force of the wind once Izuku had unlocked it. The snow began assaulting the wooden floors, piling on top of itself until it created tiny hills. Izuku panicked at the amount of snow that was already in the cabin and he threw himself outside to try to get the door to close.

But he didn’t get far as he was stopped by a figure that was standing just a bit from the cabin. Not even the snow pelting the ground or the fog lingering in the area was prominent enough to hide the beauty of the woman standing in front of him. Her skin was as pale as the snow around her while her cheeks were the opposite and tinted with bright pink. Her lips were small, her nose was small, but her eyes were large, bright, and rich in brown and her eyelashes worked as curtains for them. Her hair was in a bob that curled at the ends against her cheeks and the color of her hair reminded him of almonds. His favorite snack.

“What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous!” He tried to yell over the howl of the wind, but it was impossible. The storm was too powerful. So, he grabbed the woman by her shoulders and ushered her inside the cabin and with all his might, he pulled the door against the wind and locked it shut, letting out a heavy sigh of relief when he leaned his forehead against it. He felt it was vibrating softly, just another reminder at how brutal the storm was. He thought this woman was crazy for being out there, but he assumed the worst. Maybe she needed help or didn’t have shelter from the storm. He was about to question her, but she spoke first.

“You’re Izuku, right?”

“H-How…?” His words faltered when he turned around to face the woman and spotted almond colored wolf ears sitting on top of her head. He blinked at them for a moment, questioning their appearance as they weren’t there when he first spotted her. He almost shrieked at the sight of them, but he held his composure, breathing deeply before he narrowed his eyes at her. There could only be one reason why a wolf would suddenly show up at this cabin.

“What do you want? You couldn’t possibly be here to see her.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” She wasn’t surprised at his hostility. He was human after all. “I wanted to see if she was still alive…”

Why do you care? Was what he wanted to say but he held his tongue for reasons struck by fear. She wasn’t as threatening as Katsuki, but she was still a wolf. “Of course, she is. But she’s hurt… I’m sure you know how. You were probably there.”

“Yes, I was.”

“I’m sorry, but I was going to go out and buy some medicine for her. So, if you would—”

“It won’t work.”

“What?”

“She won’t be healed by that.”

“What do you mean…?” Izuku hated the look on her face. How her brows knitted together and formed the creases between her eyes. It didn’t match with her beauty. She looked up at him like she was begging for him to hear her out. He found himself complying, no longer able to stand her expression. With a nod, he led her to your room and he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes when she saw you. The color of your skin spoke of your lifespan. At best, a day was all you had left.

“This is horrible…” Izuku heard her mumble as she squeezed her hands into fists. She couldn’t believe the drastic change of your appearance. Just a couple of days ago you were vibrant and gushing about Katsuki to her. Even though you were upset at him, she still saw the love blossomed in your eyes whenever you spoke of him. You always found a reason to talk about him even if it was just a rant. And the moments where you would suddenly daze off, she had no doubt in her mind that it was Katsuki filling your thoughts.

“How did you find us anyway?”

“Her blood. I followed the scent of her blood.”

“Ah—O-Okay,” Izuku scratched the side of his head. It wasn’t that he was confused but more taken aback by her response. It wasn’t everyday where you hear of someone tracking by the scent of blood. Wolves were truly different when compared to humans. “So… would you mind explaining what you meant before? Why wouldn’t medicine work for her?”

She sighed heavily, turning her large brown eyes on Izuku. “Katsuki—I’m sure you know—the wolf from yesterday? He—He’s special. He’s not like the rest of us. He’s the direct descendant of our ancestor and next in line as pack leader. Because of that, Katsuki inherited abilities from him. We call it ‘The Curse of Fenrir’.”

“The Curse of Fenrir…?” It sounded terrifying to Izuku, but it grew his curiosity.

“Yes, sometimes we just call it ‘The Curse’ but if a human gets hurt by Katsuki, any damage inflicted by his claws or fangs would never heal.”

“Never heal…?”

“At least not with medicine or on its own. Katsuki himself would have to heal the wound by cleaning it.”

“So, the only way for ____ to be healed is if that wolf does it.”

Ochako nodded, “I tried to convince Katsuki to do it but… he’s still upset about what happened.”

“She’s going to die any day now and he won’t heal her? I-I have to go convince him… I—” Izuku began gathering his things and before he could trudge past Ochako, she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“I have no doubt if Katsuki sees you, he’ll kill you. Right now, you should stay by her side. I’ll try and talk to him again—"

“I can’t just sit here and watch her die. I have to at least do something!”

“I’m not asking you to. Katsuki,” she tried to find the words with a brief bite of her lips. “Katsuki cares about her. He wouldn’t let her die. I know he wouldn’t.”

“This is the same wolf who did this to her. I refuse to believe I have to only rely on such a b-beast to save my friend.”

It was odd. Ochako the other day was calling Katsuki the same thing yet hearing it from Izuku had lit a small flame of anger within her. It didn’t feel like it was only towards Katsuki but towards her kind as a whole.

“Beast? You hardly know him, or us, matter of fact,” she spoke with a growl in her voice.

“After what he did, how can he be anything other than that?”

“You sound as if humans never acted irrational before. For all the havoc you guys cause, from destroying lands, nature, and my people, why aren’t you considering yourselves beasts?”

Izuku’s silence spoke volumes. He stared back at Ochako, stunned by her words.

“That’s because you humans only ever look at yourselves and never consider the differences around you. We may be ‘beasts’ but that doesn’t mean we don’t have emotions like humans. We live just like you, eat just like you, we have family like you. Katsuki getting angry for seeing a woman he likes in the arms of another man doesn’t make him a beast because I’m sure you humans would’ve reacted the same way.”

“I was only speaking of him.”

“Speaking of him is speaking of all of us.”

Izuku frowned. The anger in his eyes falter significantly and what was left was pure guilt about his words. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—"

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I’m just... tired of this divide. We’re practically cousins by species but it seems like we’ll never get along.”

“Maybe a lot of forgiveness and forgetfulness would do the trick?” Izuku shrugged his shoulders with a smile all too pure that it evaporated any anger she previously felt towards him. She had never seen a smile so kind, at least, from a human (other than you) that was directed at her.

“Probably, we’ll need a lot of it, for sure,” she laughed.

…

Katsuki had enough. It was easier to say that he could forget about you after your ‘betrayal’ but he found himself wondering about your wellbeing more than he would’ve liked. No woman had ever had this effect on him before. He was always able to forget about them. But for you, he couldn’t help but feel attached to you. Even as he laid on the sheep wool bedding, turning around he half expected to see you asleep by his side. But when he saw nothing but the cave’s walls ahead, he knew he could no longer handle being away from you.

Katsuki knew of his abilities and he knew when he had slashed you, it was possible that it would’ve been the last time he saw you alive. His stubbornness kept him from chasing after you. In fact, he was afraid to admit that at that time, he believed you were better off dead than in the arms of another man. It scared him greatly at how attached he felt to you that he would rather wish for your death than for you to be away from him.

But he came to realize at that moment when Ochako stormed out of his cave in tears after his threats and the air of his cave was reduced of your scent the longer you were absent from it, he questioned if this was truly how he wanted to live. A life without you seemed impossible when you were with him and now it could very much be his reality.

…

“I’ll try to convince Katsuki. I know he won’t let her die.”

Izuku was seeing Ochako to the door. His eyebrows furrowed at the sound of the raging wind outside. The door was chattering at the force of it. “Are you sure you’ll be okay traveling in this storm?”

“Yeah, of course,” she chuckled softly. “I’m a wolf, remember?”

It didn’t matter what she was, Izuku was still worried. He leaned against the wall and buried his hands within his pants pockets. “I know, still, be careful out there, Ochako.”

Ochako smiled. She never had someone so concerned about her wellbeing before especially not a human. All they did was run at the sight of her or try to kill her but to have one worry about her even after knowing her capabilities as a wolf was a refreshing feeling. “I will be.”

Izuku gave her a small smile before she left into the blistering weather and faded into the fog. It was a hassle closing the door but Izuku managed with his strength and locked it before he retired back to your room.

…

As the night started settling into the day, the storm had reached its peak. The winds were blowing at high speeds capable of knocking anyone off their feet. Fog and snow obscure all sight as no one could barely see a few inches in front of them. Walking outside was a death sentence for any human.

But not for wolves.

Katsuki hiked through the forest as if he weren’t phased by the forces of nature. The winds may be slowing down his speed, but the fog and snow only slightly obscured his vision. Even his sense of smell was still functioning normally as he followed the scent of blood that was being carried with the wind. It was sweet and awfully familiar, and it made his mouth water with desire. Katsuki knew exactly who it belong to.

He followed the scent until it led him to a cabin that was slowly being buried by the snow. A quarter of the front door was already submerged in it, but it didn’t stop Katsuki from figuring out another way in. He followed where the scent of blood was most prominent to the side of the cabin and there was a window in which he effortlessly lifted open and climb inside.

His crimson eyes had zeroed in on nothing in the room but the person lying in bed, pale and nearly lifeless. That person was you. He refused to believe that’s what you’ve become because of him. You were a person so vibrant and beautiful that it could nearly make Katsuki cry at the sight of your presence and now you lacked the light that made you shine—that made Katsuki love you.

He walked to you. The wooden flooring creaked under his weight with his slow steps. Even as he tried to walk without making a sound, being gentle was just one thing Katsuki couldn’t do correctly. He regretted the moment he got closer to you because he saw the discoloring around your eyes and the cold sweat damping your pale skin. You were lying on your back without any covers and the wound on your arm that was wrapped in bandages were being soaked with your blood. The sweet smell lingered around the room no doubt making Katsuki’s mouth water, but he was too deep in his sorrow to act on his urges.

What kind of lover was he to hurt you like this? To make you suffer until you were tethering in and out of the underworld? He yearned to see your smile again, your smile that made his heart flutter in ways it had never before, to look at him with your bright eyes that embodied the feeling of love only for him, to have you in his arms again, so small and fragile yet fit perfectly within them. And the sound of your voice when you would call his name had him wishing he could listen to it on repeat.

Katsuki’s hands formed into fists, his claws dug into his palms so hard that it punctured his skin and his blood slipped between his clenched fingers and fell upon the floor. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad that he couldn’t see how he deserved to stay with you. You didn’t deserve someone like him. Someone who would hurt his lover because he couldn’t control his anger. How could he possibly protect you if he couldn’t protect you from himself?

A low growl had sounded from him and already the wound on his hands had healed up on their own. Katsuki sat on your bed and grabbed your injured arm. He unwrapped the bandages and revealed the gash that showed no signs of healing. He grimaced at it, not because of its grotesque appearance but because he was the one who had caused it.

He didn’t hesitate to drag his tongue on your wound, gasping and growling at the delicious taste that had his saliva spilling from his lips. But he couldn’t enjoy it like the last time he had taste your blood. He moved desperately, diligently with a goal to cure you of this curse.

You, on the other hand, had stirred in your long slumber with your eyebrows furrowed and teeth biting lips. Your pale complexion became flush in color, panting and mewling at the feeling of Katsuki’s tongue against you. He couldn’t tell if you were in pain or pleasure, but he couldn’t stop the fuzzy feeling building within his loins. You moaned softly, breathlessly and Katsuki glanced at your face with his glowing red eyes as he licked and licked until his face was drenched in your blood.

“K-Katsuki… aahn…” Katsuki could see it. He could see the soft rolling of your hips. It was not pain you were feeling. It was far from it.

Yet he continued to lick, ignoring the desire rumbling within him. After how badly he treated you, you still thought of him as a lover. He was still someone you thought of the moment you felt pleasure and that stirred something within him that he couldn’t quite name.

He growled softly, nearly losing himself in your moans. He cleaned your wound until there was nothing but three discolored scars left. He made sure it was clean of all your blood. He wasn’t going to leave one drop of it on your skin. And when he was done, he pulled away and found you panting, flushed, and mumbling his name deliriously in your slumber. He soaked in your appearance knowing that this was going to be the last time he’ll ever see it. He decided back at his cave that he was going to heal you and then leave you. It was the best form of action he had to take for your sake. You weren’t safe with him.

Though it was a struggle for him to leave you. Your complexion was returning to normal and your breathing was finally in control. You were already starting to look like yourself again. Even the feel of your skin underneath his palm when he had reached out to caress your cheek was reaching normal temperatures. Katsuki whispered your name. It sounded so soft that it could break before it reached anyone’s ears, but it was also weighed with guilt, love, and hesitation. For once in his life, he was unsure. Can he actually live without you?

“I’m sorry…” He grunted out when he had hovered over you and pushed his forehead against yours, noses touching and lips barely brushing against each other. He repeated those words until he was satisfied as his face contorted into one of pain with knitted eyebrows and gritted teeth. He ripped himself off of you with a growl and still he was unsure. But hesitation didn’t stop him from turning his back on you. He was leaving. He had to.

Katsuki dragged himself to the window and he rewarded himself with one final glance at your sleeping form to burn you in his memory.

But what he didn’t expect to see was you staring right back at him with those beautiful half-lidded eyes that he ached to see.

“Shit.”

Oof. 

I'll be honest, I love-hate writing this chapter and I'm not sure why lol WELP I'm excited for the next chapter cause It's gonna be awesome. I'm tired of this angst, aren't you guys? Thank you guys so much for reading!! Until next chapter, loves.

[whumperwriter]

Whumptober Day 19 - Exhaustion

Fandom - The Resident

Whumpee - Conrad Hawkins

A/N - Nothing smart that I've got to say. Just that I hope if you're reading this that you'll enjoy! (Also feel free to donate a coffee in my direction at KoFi or give me a follow at @imagine-tay-tion . And if you want to be tagged whenever I post original content, shoot me a message and I can add you to my tag list. 😁😁)

XXXXXXXXXX

He's used to not stopping.

When he was a baby, he was walking before he could speak. His dad liked to joke that he could run before he crawl, but Conrad is very aware that it's bullshit. He was walking early though, and he just never stopped moving after that.

In school, he was always going. From the moment his feet hit the ground in the morning to the moment he rested his head on his  pillow at night. He would go to school, then after school practices for the plethora of sports he had on his agenda. Sometimes he would get the chance to hang out with friends, but that was only when he had time. The older he got, and the closer he got to graduation, he would stay busy getting into trouble and just trying to stay out of the house.

Then everything came to a head and the next thing he knew, he was being shipped overseas. Being a marine was clearly no easy feat. Once again, Conrad was never able to take a break and catch a breath. It was always going from place to place, just trying to help people to the best of his ability.

Somewhere in there, he injured his knee and suddenly it wasn't as easy to keep going, but he tried. He kept going for years and somewhere in the midst of it all, he became a resident at Chastain and somehow, he managed to continue the motion.

Three years at Chastain had taught him more than he can really recall, but there's one thing it hasn't. Finding time to stop and take a break.

He's never let it get too bad before. Conrad knows that once he's had three energy drinks, he needs to sit down and take a nap if possible. Fortunately that didn't happen too often, and when it does,  the staff understands. Everybody in the hospital was willing to work themselves to the bone, and he was no exception. He would do the same for them.

Fourth of July was where he really ran into issues though. It's been three days since Independence day and Conrad hasn't slept since that morning. He doesn't sleep well during fireworks, and being right in the middle of the city, noises bouncing and echoing off of the buildings, did nothing to ease him.

So he showed up to work the next day and did his job. No sleep to his name but he was doing his best. By the end of the double shifts, he hasn't had the chance to sit and rest, and he's at least six energy drinks down.

Conrad's hands are shaky and his head swims every time he moves it too quick. He's well past the point where he can walk without something supporting him.(He's spending a lot of time using the wall to keep him steady.) He can almost guarantee that he's hallucinating, something stupid like shadows or something, he's really not sure. His head is pounding. He's been snapping at people all evening. He can feel his eyes droop everytime he uses the elevators and suddenly the shoddy break room coffee begins to seem helpful when Bell catches up to him.

There really isn't much catching up to him at this point. He's down in the ER, sitting behind the nurses desk, using a wheelchair as chair. He's rolling back and forth while he ponders some of his new patients and their medical issues. He's so close to the end of his shift, and he's ready to call it and go sleep in the doctors lounge, but then here's Bell, closing on him, and Conrad knows that there is no way that this ends well.

���Listen, Bell, I don't have the energy,” Conrad contemplates his next words, before he stands up, and makes to walk away, “or the time to deal with you.”

“Conrad, I need you to work another shift. We're severely short-staffed down here, as you can tell, and I can't pull anybody else from any of the other floors.” The man says pompously, daring Conrad to say otherwise.

“I'm finishing up a double and you want me to work another shift?” Conrad asks, just to make sure he hears correctly. He stops moving as he looks up at the chief of surgery… and the CEO.

“You heard me,” the older man walks a few steps away as Conrad falls back into the wheelchair, rubbing at his eyes and temples and bridge of his nose. He sighs as he tosses the patient file that was previously in his hand, onto the desk. “And Conrad?”

Conrad doesn't even both to look up, and decides to put his elbow on his knees and hang his head. Exhaustion creeping up on him. “Try not to need me.”

Conrad waits for the footsteps to disappear before he sits back up, and looks around at the relatively quiet ER. He glances at his watch. 10pm.

“Damn it.”

He's about to get up and head to the doctors lounge, knowing that him crashing is inevitable, when Hundley seemingly materializes. “Hey Conrad, we have a multi car crash in route.”

He doesn't mean to sigh out loud, but whoop, there it is. “How many?”

“Right now we have four ambulances coming our way.” She says, almost sympathetically. She knows how tonight's about to go.

“Ok, we need help, let's get some extra hands down here.”

Thirty minutes. It takes thirty minutes to send two patients up to the OR, another to be admitted for observation, five examined, helped, then discharged and then there's the patient beneath his palms. He's trying his best, but he knows that she's gone. She's young too, which sinks to the pit of his stomach. He's doing compressions as Nic and Devon work on her injuries, trying to stop the bleeding.

He does ten more, and then calls it.

By that time, it's 10:32pm and his legs are shaking from the exertion. Conrad pulls away from the body and rips his gloves off, tossing them onto the ground, then he's pulling his gown off and throwing that onto the floor as well.

He doesn't stop to chat to either the younger resident or nurse, instead he walks out into the center of the ER and looks around, pleased that everything is under control. He stumbles to the desk, his chest heaving as he reaches for a patient file that sits untouched before rounding the counter slowly, using it as a crutch.

He's trying not to blink because every time he blinks, he feels his eyelids taking more and more effort to reopen.

He doesn't even make it to the end of the counter before his foot slips out from beneath him and then suddenly Conrad's struggling to keep both his feet under him. He glances around to make sure no one's watching him before continuing, and he makes it this time.

He collapses into the wheelchair again and falls back into a resting position, leaning on his knees and rubbing his eyes. “Hey Conrad, you good down here?”

Conrad waves Devon away, not even bothering to look up before a hand rests on his shoulders and a cup of coffee is steaming under his nose. He's lost time, he knows that for sure. He looks up to see Nic standing above him and he greedily accepts the cup, taking a long swig.

“You were here when I left yesterday. What are you still doing here?” Nic asks, rubbing his back as he pulls the acrid mixture away from his lips.

“I wasn't given a choice. Bell forced me to stay and cover down here.” Conrad normally would have attempted to comfort her, the way her face reddens as she is visibly angered by the statement. He's just so tired that he can't even scrounge up the effort. He prays the coffee makes a difference.

“He's never gonna learn. You need sleep! When was the last time-”

“The night of the third.” Conrad responds, yawning. Nic glances at her watch before rolling her eyes.

“That was days ago, you need rest.”

“I know, trust me, I'm ready to. I'll have Devon take point on all my patients upstairs and I'll just take it easy down here. It'll be fine.” Conrad reassures, grabbing her hand and smiling earnestly up at her.

“Right.” She exhales a long sigh and then turns away from him, her pager beeping. “I gotta go, don't push yourself, alright?”

He nods, his smile dropping slightly as she turns to Hundsley “Keep an eye on him?”

“You bet, Nic.”

And then she's gone.

Conrad's able to make it five more hours. Five hours of energy drinks. Five hours of small talk with everyone who walks in. Five hours of diagnosing and five hours of stumbling around. Five hours of micro naps in the wheelchair. Five hours of using anything as support as his legs grew less and less privy to the idea of carrying him around. If he's honest with himself, part of those five hours he realizes he's lost. His mind just forgot to catalogue at times.

He knows he must really look awful when patients start to ask him if he's ok.

But at 3:30 in the morning, as he's bringing suture equipment to the college kid in the fourth bed, he blinks his eyes.

The next moment, he opens them and he's looking up at the ER ceiling. He doesn't immediately recognize what's happened until Nic's hovering over him, a deep frown on her face.

“Oh boy.” He groans. It's hits him that he's lying on a hospital bed, a pillow resting under his head and his legs tucked under a blanket. He glances up and the curtains around him are all closed. ‘Where are my shoes?’ he ponders momentarily.

“You moronic, selfless, bastard. Imagine how panicked I felt when I got a page telling me you had just collapsed in the emergency department.” Nic is pissed, that's easy enough to tell. Enough time has passed that she's wearing street clothes instead of her scrubs. She's laying beside him, he realizes as she lies back down next to him.

He loves how she fits next to him.

“I'm sorry, I tried not too.” He countered, knowing there really was no excuse for what had transpired.

She sighs lightly, and lays her hand on his chest. “It's not your fault, maybe with this having happened to two different residents-”

Conrad grabs her hand and squeezes it lightly before pulling it to his lips, where he let's it sit. “Nothing's gonna change.”

Another, much louder sigh. “I know, I know.”

“Sucks that it happened. Who knows?”

“Well, everyone who was in the ER at the time, Hundley, and me. We kept it quiet. If Bell found out…” her sentence trails off and he places her hand back on his chest as he turns to face her.

“Thank you.” It's genuine and she smiles that light smile that he loves so much.

“You don't have to thank me. We just put you in a bed and let you sleep it off,” she looks at her watch, “and your shifts been over for about an hour now. What do you say we head to my place and get some sleep?”

Conrad moans in response. “A real bed sounds so nice right now.”

@whumptober2018

[eloquenceassassinated]

Super Late Captain Marvel Review!

By the time you read this, Carol Danvers will probably be out of theaters, but I had to share my thoughts anyway in case anyone was still on the fence about getting the Redbox or catching it on Netflix. With all the drama surrounding the movie, is Captain Marvel really worth the watch?

No spoiler review:

It’s a good movie! As an origin story, Captain Marvel excels at getting even a casual like me up to speed with the space politics and a plot with its fair share of big twists. I watched the film at a drive-in, so some of the scenes were a bit too dark to see what was going on, but the final battle is a gorgeous and entertaining blast of color and explosions. See GIF above. People have already raved about the 90s aesthetic, and I have to say that it really does add that charm of a simpler time. Classic songs will get you bouncing in your seat, humor hits the notes it has to, and the plot was twisty enough to keep my inner analyst happy for days.

I’ve heard some reviews saying that Brie Larson only phoned in her role as Carol Danvers. While it’s true that there were some points I could tell were supposed to be “dramatic” or “impactful” and Brie kinda killed it with a flat delivery, for the most part, I feel like her acting was solid. I felt for Carol, and I empathized with her struggles and cheered with her exhilaration when she finally succeeded at the end. She carried the theme of self-discovery well enough to get even me, the skeptic, to connect with her character by the end.

Now for the elephant in the room. What about the feminist message? I’m pleased to report that it’s not the center focus. Rather, the message of the movie is about discovering who you are, getting back up even when you fall, and the strength of human beings, something that we can all relate to. That’s not to say that the “Carol is a girl and girls are strong” moments aren’t a little heavy-handed when they appear, but they usually go as soon as they come. Most of the moments of Carol being demeaned for being a girl are relegated to flashbacks that serve as backstory, like Batman’s parents dying. They’re integral to her character, sure, but her aim is not to “tear down the patriarchy and show those evil men what for”—actually, she has some great team-ups with wonderful male characters around her—her aim is to do the right thing, no matter who tries to stand in her way.

Long story short, Captain Marvel is a good movie. Most powerful superhero—eh? But she blows stuff up good, and you’ll connect with her, and that’s what makes her punching a spaceship really worth it. It’s yet to be seen whether you’ll miss any crucial lore in Avengers: Endgame if you miss Captain Marvel, but I suspect you'd lose out on the opportunity to connect with Carol as a person before she faces off with the giant alien space prune.

Now. Ready for spoilers? Hit the button.

THEY DIDN’T KILL THE GOOD ALIEN DAD!! Okay, sorry, just had to get that off my chest. I was really afraid they would kill Talos in front of his daughter and I was so prepared to be angry. But he lived and was wearing a grey hoodie and eating dinner with his family by the end of the movie and that makes me happy. Talos lives, you guys! It’s all good.

It was wonderful to see Coulson and Fury looking young and spry in the earlier days of S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson’s little pompadour! He had hair! Whatever they did to make Clark Gregg and Samuel L. Jackson look younger was seamless, and I forgot to question how they did it until after the movie. The friendship that Fury and Carol develop through the movie was also delightful. They too, like Steve and Nat in CA:TWS (cough best movie) have a funny and sweet conversation in a car that sells this unlikely friendship.

Fantastic set design. The Blockbuster made me feel like I was back in my childhood. I’m still trying to parse out what happened to the Tessaract exactly, but that’s okay. I loved the twist that the Kree chose Carol’s new name based off of the surviving fragment of her dog tag. I like that Captain Marvel’s colors were chosen by Monica, and that the name itself is a tribute to the scientist who died trying to right the wrongs of her people. 

Plenty of fans have compared Carol’s backstory to both Steve Rogers’ and Bucky Barnes’, and for good reason. Like Steve, she clawed tooth and nail to get into the military and was belittled every step of the way. Like Bucky, she was brainwashed and forced to fight for the wrong side (just, arguably, with less body horror involved). I have another parallel: a girl bromance, between Carol and Maria! That’s a first, and a delightful one at that. Is Carol as high a fav of mine as Steve and Bucky, then? Hm....nah. But what can I say, I’m biased.

Speaking of which, Maria’s role needs a mention all of its own. While Brie’s performance was passable if occasionally lacking, and the big names like Jackson and Gregg of course pulled their weight, the character of Maria Rambeau is the only one that I felt was a real, breathing person every second she was on screen. Lashana Lynch knocked it out of the park bringing every minute emotion of this character to life, simultaneously a mother and a pilot and an overwhelmed and grieving person just seeing her best friend come back from the dead. Her performance was one I didn’t expect to fall in love with, but I did, and I just feel like Lashana deserves more praise for it.

And of course, the real story behind how Fury lost his eye really makes me chuckle. Hey, he didn’t lie when he said the last time he trusted someone, he lost an eye.

So, did I like Captain Marvel? Yes. Is it worth all the drama? Not really. Do you forget about that when Carol is whooping and hollering and punching spaceships like tin cans? Yes, yes you do. Like I said, she blows stuff up good, and I look forward to seeing her in Avengers: Endgame.

That’s it. Peace out!

[my-happy-little-bean]

A Light In Every Patch Of Darkness

pairings: LAMP [platonic] words: 4350 warnings: manipulation, minor abuse, brief mention of blood (used in a metaphor; no one is actually bleeding), brief mention of choking, small reference to toxic relationships (you probably would not notice it, but it is there), minor swearing, general angst 

***please tell me if there is any other warnings you’d like me to add***

summary: “often drenched in darkness in the depths of thomas’ mind, deceit knew that if he was going to infiltrate the main sides’ little “party,” he would have to lighten up a bit.

as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he began to hear humming from upstairs in the mind palace.

deceit grinned.”

or: an alternative take on thomas’ new video, “can lying be good?” that shows the plan deceit creates to fulfill his desire to find ways into the discussion. in order to do that, however, he knows he’ll have to escape the shadows that follow him — and what better way to do that than with the brightest side?

a/n- the characterization here is a bit messy and this is a bit all over the place, but i just really wanted to write something to do with deceit and slip in my own headcanons. this is something i have wanted to write for a really long time and was wondering how i could when bam! thomas goes “voici deceit” :P

to summarize, this is all for me, lol. i hope you all enjoy this angsty-turned-tragically-sappy-and-cheesy story regardless. :)

alternate title: “definitely” by deceit. whoops :P

tagging my writing pal-er-ino, @whatwashernameagain because she’s great! (if you want to be tagged in any of my future writing endeavours, i thank you first of all, and just message me! ^-^)

Deceit absolutely loved it down here.

He spent his days in the depths of Thomas’ mind, mindlessly wafting through dark shadows. He was forced to listen to the dilemmas being presented and the totally-not-pathetic ways the Sides approached them.

He definitely didn’t think that Logan’s only purpose was exposition. He definitely was not tired of Roman’s naive and egoistic behaviour. He definitely found Patton’s happy façade to be wrong and upsetting. He definitely thought Virgil was fully accepted by the others.

Deceit snuck in every now and then too, often appearing at the Thomas’—and the Sides’—weakest moments.

Logan found feelings confusing; so Deceit threw “emotions” into the “illogical” pile to help him out.

Roman wanted the best, most fanciful life for Thomas; so Deceit taught Roman how to lie.

Virgil was struggling with who he was; so Deceit helped him create that “dark persona” to guide him to the obvious truth.

Patton was hurting; so Deceit built the walls.

If, for a brief second, he could be honest, Deceit really did love his role. He thrived off the potential control he had, and he felt so strong when he was in charge.

Because in the very end, he was.

But he was admittedly tired of being stuck down here, wafting through the shadows that surrounded him. He was actually quite bored.

So when he overheard from the Sides in the Mind Palace (he wasn’t eavesdropping, why would he eavesdrop?) that Thomas’ new dilemma was something up his lane, he devised a plan. A plan that would pull him back out in the open. A plan that would reunite him with his fellow storm cloud, and a plan that would remind the Sides just how much fun they could have with him.

Deceit, however, was many things; but being stupid wasn’t one of them.

Because he knew he couldn’t just “pop” in out of nowhere without giving Thomas a reason for him to know he existed. He physically was not able to. None of them were able to.

Often drenched in darkness in the depths of Thomas’ mind, Deceit knew that if he was going to infiltrate the main sides’ little “party,” he would have to lighten up a bit.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he began to hear humming from upstairs in the Mind Palace.

Deceit grinned.

For the first time in a while, Deceit decided to take a trip up to the Mind Palace. He often avoided going up there; he knew he could—there wasn’t anything stopping him—but he definitely did not think the others were annoying.

And he definitely knew he was welcome there.

He wasn’t, of course, given his history with the others. If he showed up, it was only to tease them all after a bad day, and even then they continued to pretend that he was invisible.

Except for Patton.

Patton, Deceit knew, was too kind for his own good; despite the fact that Patton probably hated him the most. Deceit was everything Patton was against, yet unlike the other Sides, he knew how to stick with Thomas’ moral thoughts of “human decency.”

‘Yuck,’ Deceit thought as he went up the stairs; ‘I suppose it’s due time to show dear ol’ pops what kindness gets him.’

He swiftly moved across the seemingly empty Mind Palace, hiding behind the wall separating the lounge from the kitchen. If he listened closely, he could hear the soft snores of Roman, the loud snores of Logan, and ‘the sounds of the ocean’ track Virgil definitely didn’t need to go to sleep.

They must all be in their rooms, sleeping. Except, of course, for dear old Patton.

He peered behind the wall to see Patton, quietly humming to himself as he pulled out a few plates from the cupboard. He smiled, folding his hands neatly above his chest — sweet, sweet Patton was preparing what he needed to make breakfast for the others in the morning.

He definitely wasn’t fazed by the fact that they forgot his seat.

The thought made him laugh, quiet enough that it didn’t wake anyone up, but loud enough for Patton to hear. It echoed in the kitchen, and Patton dropped one of the plates halfway through setting them on the table.

Deceit sped towards Patton and caught the plate in the blink of an eye, mere inches away from the ground. Patton’s eyes widened as Deceit slowly brought himself up to present the unbroken plate at him.

“Why hello, Patton,” Deceit said with a smug smile, “what a beautiful morning it is, isn’t it?”

Patton slowly began to back away.

“Y-You—!”

“You know that I would love to hear you speak,” Deceit cut him off with a flick of his wrist, watching Patton’s hand fly over his mouth, “but I really do need you to be quiet for now.”

Patton’s struggled to breathe through the palm of his hand, his eyes widening. He tried to shove his own hand off his mouth, shaking his head as much as he could, but Deceit further forced Patton’s hand on his mouth with every attempt.

“You see, Patton, I overheard what you were...discussing with Thomas earlier.” Deceit circled around Patton like a predator watching their prey. “I think it’s rather interesting to hear that you guys would want to start a discussion around lying without me.”

Deceit laughed once again, trailing his gloved finger along Patton’s cheek. Patton audibly gasped behind the palm of his hand, feeling himself become drained.

“I can’t go up there without you, Patton,” Deceit said, the shadows trailing behind him slowly diminishing. “You of all people know that, considering how smart you are.”

A patch of grey began to spread on Patton’s blue shirt like blood. A streak of yellow began to spread across Deceit’s black glove.

“I suppose I just need to lighten up a bit,” Deceit continued, watching as Patton’s blue was dissolved in grey. “I need to get up there somehow, right? And you know I think everyone’s smart enough to recognize a Patton when they see one.”

Patton’s hand flung back, allowing him to gasp for air. He snuck a fearful glance at his hand, that was slowly becoming greyer. He glared up at Deceit in fear, watching how the edge of his shirt’s collar began to brighten up with yellow as well.

Deceit’s right eye flashed yellow, and that’s when Patton knew he was in danger.

“G-Guys?!” he tried to yell, hoping to catch the attention of the other Sides. “Uh, a-a little...help would be just nif...nifty!”

However, his words came out as scratchy attempts at a screams. Patches of grey spread across his neck and along the line Deceit traced on his jaw.

“Oh yes, Patton,” Deceit purred, gently grabbing his wrist, “they’ll definitely be able to hear you.”

Patton opened his mouth to scream again, but no words came out. Instead, he felt himself weaken and he dropped to his knees. Deceit, hand still on Patton’s blackened wrist, crouched to Patton’s level.

He used his free hand to tip his hat at Patton’s, whose brown irises were slowly being washed out with grey.

“Lovely doing business with you, Patton,” he said, giving him a coy smile. “Are there any puns you’d recommend I use? After all, those puns are just so hilarious. And where do you keep that old cardigan of yours? I want to tease ‘em.”

Patton struggled to form words.

“T-They’ll...” Patton coughed, and a small shadow trailed down his lips. “They’ll k-know. They’ll find me.”

“Of course they will!” Deceit teased. “I think I just want to have some...fun first.”

Patton felt the shadows that once surrounded Deceit crawl around him, and his vision was slowly spinning.

“W-Why...why me?”

Patton could hear the faint echoes of Deceit laughing.

“It’s quite simple, Patton,” Deceit said, cupping Patton’s chin and soaking in the last of Patton’s light. “It’s because it’s easy.”

Patton’s panicked eyes began to droop closed.

All he could see now was grey, along with a faint shine of bright yellow.

“Goodnight, Patton.” Deceit grinned. “I’ll take good care of them while you’re gone.”

Deceit exited Patton’s room the following morning, adjusting Patton’s old, grey cardigan on his shoulders. It took him a bit longer to perfect Patton’s complete look than he would want to admit—it took him all night, mainly due to the fact that there was barely any colour left on Patton’s...anywhere—but he liked to think he nailed it just fine.

He straightened up his shoulders, taking a deep breath and slamming the door behind him shut. Deceit adjusted Patton’s glasses and he took a few steps back before looking behind him, cautious.

The shadows that once trailed him were quietly slithering in the crack of Patton’s door, barely visible.

Deceit grinned, digging his hands in his pocket and whistling a slow tune. He walked down the hall and towards the kitchen, where Virgil, Logan, and Roman already were. He blinked, a bit taken back.

It took Deceit a while to register what was happening — after years of not being in the Mind Palace, he was finally seeing what the others looked like.

He knew Thomas didn’t want to know Deceit existed, but how could he keep him away from this?

Because Logan definitely did not look more handsomely rugged than before; Because Roman definitely did not look like he aged a few years older; Because Virgil definitely did not remind Deceit of the times when they definitely used to have fun.

As always, Virgil was the first to see Deceit.

“G’morning, Pat,” he said, giving Deceit a small smile before pulling up a chair beside him. “You want in on these pancakes? Roman baked.”

Roman beamed at Deceit as he placed a plate of scrambled eggs pancakes in the middle of the table. Virgil began to load his plate, and once Logan got his coffee, he too decided to take a single pancake. Deceit slowly made his way to the table and sat down besides Virgil.

“That would be quite alright, actually,” Deceit said in the happiest voice he could muster. “If you can pass that plate of eggs, that’d be great, friendo.”

Virgil frowned.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“The eggs.” Deceit laughed. “Do I look like I’m yolk-ing?”

Virgil did nothing but smile politely, reaching over to grab the plate of scrambled eggs for Deceit, who flashed him a smile in return. He took a few scoops.

“So what are we working on today, friendos?” He spoke through mouthfuls of scrambled eggs, definitely not noticing Virgil staring at him.

“Speak without your mouth full, Patton,” Logan hummed, sipping his coffee as he began to open a newspaper.

“Now, there’s no need to tell me what to do, teach,” Deceit joked. Logan looked up briefly, almost confused.

Deceit definitely did not enjoy how this was riling Virgil right up.

“Well as we discussed before,” Roman said, taking a seat across from Deceit, “we are discussing a dilemma involving Thomas’ best-est friend, Joan!”

“Best-est is not a word, Roman.”

“What happened with Joan?” Deceit asked curiously.

“You were there, Pat,” Virgil said lowly, twirling his fork slowly.

“Nothing better than a refresher,” Deceit said with a chuckle. “I am not too good with remembering things — if Joan-ly I could have infinite memory, am I right?”

Logan rolled his eyes.

Virgil, Deceit noticed, did not find the joke funny.

“Thomas is trying to determine whether or not it is appropriate for him to fabricate a lie to Joan—this, of course, in regards to missing a staged-reading of Joan’s new play—in order to spare Joan’s feelings,” Logan explained. Deceit’s eyes widened.

“Oh shucks! He can’t think of what to do on his own?” Deceit smiled. “Well then, I guess it is our job to step in for him! Guide him through adulthood and what not!”

Roman and Logan didn’t notice it, but Deceit knew Virgil did.

After all, he threw that in just for him.

When Deceit laughed, he laughed at Virgil; who just stared ahead and said nothing.

“Right.” Logan pushed up his glasses and finished the rest of his coffee. “Anyway, it would be best if we hurried along with breakfast. I assume Thomas would find it ideal if we were in optimal condition, ready to go, in about thirty minutes.”

“Cool-io!” Deceit chirped, eating some more scrambled eggs. Virgil remained quiet, silently finishing his food. Roman stood up.

“I dunno about you guys, but if we’re in a rush, I am not wasting my time with pancakes — I’m going to do some vocal exercises in my room.” He began to walk towards the hallway. “Call me when you guys start, ‘kay?”

“That is not an optimal way to spend your time, Rom—”

“Don’t!” Deceit suddenly exclaimed, his mind going back to what was in Patton’s room.

Silence.

“Pardon me, padré?” Roman asked, confused. Deceit shakily smiled.

“Well, why keep that lovely voice of yours trapped in your room?” Deceit said sweetly. “Why don’t you run me through some vocal exercises in the living room?”

Roman’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Sure thing, Pat! Sounds razzle-dazzle spectacular!”

“Great!” Deceit cheered, scooping the last of his scrambled eggs in his mouth. He shot out of his seat, startling Virgil who definitely did not like loud noises.

Deceit just smiled at him, and as he was leaving, he noticed that Virgil did not smile back.

Deceit definitely considered the fact that all this teasing could get him caught.

He’ll admit that perhaps he got carried away at “messenger falcons” or his little outburst about how “lying was good.” It was of his nature to be cocky — that would definitely change.

Virgil, as he definitely predicted, was the first one to know.

“Where the hell is Patton,” he gritted out, narrowing his eyes at him. Deceit, now back in his regular form, checked his nails coyly.

“Out,” he said simply; “and I definitely mean outside.”

“What did you do to him, you definite...scoundrel?!” Roman roared. Deceit grimaced a bit at the volume of Roman’s voice.

“Well I’m sure you all will definitely not find out soon,” Deceit said, flashing the other Sides with innocent puppy-dog eyes.

Virgil felt sick, and he immediately sank out.

Everyone stared at the place Virgil once was. Thomas glared at Deceit, but found himself speechless. Logan pushed his glasses up, almost observing Deceit.

“How are you even here, Jack the Fibber?” Roman growled.

“I escaped!” he cackled like a maniac, throwing his hands up in the air. “They all did!”

“Stop it, stop it!” Thomas put his hands over his ears, clearly panicked.

“Falsehood,” Logan announced. Thomas slowly lowered his hands.

“Did you crack the case, Sherlock?” Deceit said sarcastically. “How peachy! I was really hoping you would.”

“Ignoring him,” Logan said, eyes still harshly fixated on Deceit, “I believe I developed a possible theory as to how Deceit was able to appear without us suspecting he would.”

“Well he disguised himself as Patton,” Roman said, “duh.”

“Him doing so was him simply showing off,” Logan replied, fishing through his flashcards, “or him being...extra.”

“Vocab cards,” Thomas praised, flashing finger guns at Logan, who smiled proudly.

“Anyway,” Logan continued, “he did not need to impersonate Patton. He could have made himself present if he wanted to without using Patton’s form; Deceit simply needed a disguise to fulfill the goals he set out to achieve, along with the fact that he wanted to showcase his power. It is not the fact that he ‘dressed up’ as Patton that allowed him to enter the discussion, no, but rather his ability to maintain form without darkness.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked.

“It is the absence of light in his regular form that usually allows Deceit to remain hidden from you, Thomas,” Logan explained. “You place distance between who you are and the lies you tell. He is the reason for you doing so. As Roman mentioned before, if you truly do not want to ‘feed into’ a side of you that you refuse to believe exists, it gives that side the ability to silence us from ever revealing their presence — as seen with Deceit and how he forces us to literally shut our mouths.”

“I am definitely not considering doing that to you now.”

Logan rolled his eyes and finished, “Hiding himself through darkness is also part of this power. He cannot be seen without a literal...light. In order for him to reveal his existence to you, Thomas, you need to bring him into the light.”

“Wow, Logan.” Deceit clapped slowly. “Your intelligence definitely proves that you play a role much bigger than just providing exposition.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said simply, and Deceit doesn’t feel like mentioning how Logan didn’t try to argue back.

He is sure that conflict will return soon enough.

“So you stole light,” Roman said, “but from who?”

Deceit rolled his head towards Roman suggestively, and his eyes fell on the grey cardigan Deceit tossed on the ground. Roman followed his stare before his eyes widened. His head shot up to face Deceit.

“What on Earth did you do to Patton?!” he shrieked. Logan and Thomas exchanged worried looks.

“Nothing!” Deceit said, shrugging innocently. Roman ran his fingers through his hair, anxious.

“Just stop...deceiving, Lyin’ King, and tell me! Right now!”

“Roman, calm down, I do not thi—”

“I can’t calm down!” Roman snapped, glaring at Logan. “If I were you, I’d be panicking too. He could’ve severely harmed Patton.”

Logan said nothing in return.

“What did you do with Patton?” Thomas asked Deceit, clearly afraid. 

Deceit just smiled widely and Logan sighed.

“He will be of no use to us,” he muttered. “Asking him is the equivalent of running in circles.”

“Yeah, get out of here, J.D-e-lie-tful,” Roman said, crossing his arms.

“Wow, never heard that one before, Princey,” Deceit said with a roll of his eyes. “You are so good at the whole ‘originality’ thing and you’re definitely not letting anyone down because of your inability to provide...oh, what do you pride yourself in being? Creativity.”

Deceit felt himself work his magic on Roman, judging from his sudden-defensive expression.

“Get out,” Thomas gritted out.

Deceit crossed his arms and sighed — he’s had his fun.

“Alright,” he said, slowly sinking out with a smug smile. “But let it be known — you have definitely seen the last of me.”

When Thomas was able to push Deceit out completely, he gave a sigh of relief. He glanced at Logan and Roman, who were staring down nervously.

“He’s going to return, isn’t he?” Thomas asked in a quiet voice.

Logan and Roman exchanged looks.

“There is no use in lying to you now, Thomas,” Roman sighed.

“He will be returning,” Logan sullenly agreed, “and there’s a high likelihood that you will be seeing some of the…darker sides of you that Deceit has distanced you from.”

“He wanted me to believe I am a good person,” Thomas murmured.

“It’s not like you aren’t, Thomas!” Roman protested.

“Roman is correct,” Logan said. “Generally, you are a good human being. However, even those within the best of humanity perform actions that are not considered...good.”

“No one’s a saint, Thomas,” Roman continued. “I don’t think there’s any way in destroying Deceit completely. But that doesn’t mean he will be able to control you completely.”

“You just have to remember what’s right,” Logan murmured. Thomas sighed, looking over at the spot Patton usually was.

Suddenly, Virgil appeared once more. Thomas, Logan, and Roman were taken back in surprise.

One look at Virgil’s panicked expression told Logan and Roman everything they needed to know.

“G-Guys?” Virgil stammered. “We have to check on Patton.”

Logan followed Virgil, who quickly brought him and Roman back into the Mind Palace after instructing Thomas to get some rest. They went down the hall, hastily moving across the thin layer of shadows on the floor.

“What is this?” Roman said, his eyes glued to the black mist clouding the floor.

“It is the darkness Deceit uses to hide himself,” Logan said, the pieces slowly coming together. “He must’ve stolen the light in Patton, knowing that the absence of light in Patton—”

“—would keep him hidden too,” Roman finished in fear.

The three exchange looks when they finally stop in front of Patton’s room, the bottom letting out thick layers of darkness instead of its usual, warm light. Instinctively, Roman conjured up his sword.

Virgil slowly open the door and when they took a peek inside, Virgil immediately covered his mouth in horror.

Patton’s room was crawling with this shadow-darkness-entity. It blocked the bright hue illuminating off his fairy lights, and it floated around the usually-warm atmosphere of Patton’s room. Memories of happiness and Thomas’ achievements were buried away under a thick layer of darkness.

That, however, isn’t what scared them the most.

Because what scared them the most was Patton, lying in the centre of the room lifelessly. His normal bright blue shirt was stained in an inky black. His eyes were open, but did not showcase the safe, caramel stare the others knew and love. Instead, they were grey orbs, glazed over by a darkness that didn’t belong to him.

A darkness he couldn’t control.

“P-Patton?” Roman stammered.

“Virgil, did you see...this before you called us?” Logan asked quietly, his eyes still fixated on Patton’s still body.

“N-No,” Virgil managed to say, fighting off the urge to cry. “I-I went to Patton’s room but when I...when I saw the darkness, I-I went to my room. I-I had to cool down— I had to calm down. I’m sorry, I should’ve done something good for onc—”

“Deep breaths, Virgil,” Logan said, lifting his eyes to face Virgil, who was holding his arms and clawing at his sweater’s sleeves as if they were a lifeboat. “In for 5, hold for 7, out for 8. Do you remember that?”

Virgil followed Logan’s guidance and only managed a nod.

“What do we do about Patton?” Roman asked.

“The only logical explanation is that Deceit drained Patton of light and replaced it with a darkness he isn’t used to; hence why he is in...that position,” Logan murmured to himself, crossing his arms in thought. “If he is truly deprived of light, perhaps the only thing we can do is offer Patton some of ours.”

“Would that not drain us of light as well?” Roman asked, afraid.

“I don’t care.”

Logan and Roman turned around to see Virgil march towards Patton, immediately going on his knees and holding Patton in his arms.

“Virgil!” Roman yelled, his eyes widening.

“Virgil, return here at once!” Logan exclaimed as well, his voice bridging on panic. “What you are doing is reckless, you can get hurt—”

“I don’t care,” Virgil said firmly once more, looking up at them as his hands began to turn grey. “I don’t give a fuck about me right now; this darkness is not going to hide our friend. My friend.”

A patch of blue seeped through Patton’s shirt, and a splash of grey replaced a patch of purple on Virgil’s sweater.

Roman dropped his sword and immediately rushed to Virgil, giving the other Side a warm hug. He gasped at the sudden draining sensation, but upon seeing some of the colour from Virgil’s sweater return, and the patches of blue that continued to appear on Patton’s shirt, he relaxed.

Logan was unsure of what to do.

It was clear that he had to join in. Accompany the others in their display of affection for each other. Help save Patton. Help save his family.

He knew Patton held a special place in Virgil’s heart, and Virgil was sincerely the kindest and most hard-working person he knew; that’s where Virgil got his light.

He knew Roman was a connoisseur of selfless heroism. As self-absorbed as he may be at times, he only ever works to put others before himself; that’s where Roman got his light.

Where would he get his light?

He didn’t have one.

A familiar cackle rang in his ears and Logan’s eyes widened, falling on the spot of red on Roman’s sash that was slowly being dissolved into darkness.

Logan knew he was everything Deceit wasn’t: he was the truth.

Therefore, that was where his light came from.

He rushed to the others and fell on his knees, going in between Virgil—who was holding Patton close to his chest—and Roman and gathering them in a tight hug.

For a moment, his blue tie went black; and so he hugged them tighter.

Them; his light in every patch of darkness.

Them; his family.

The shadows surrounding the four began to dissolve into thin air. Colour slowly seeped back into Patton’s skin and his shirt regained its blue colour.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, and he waited.

When Patton opened his eyes, he saw a world of light.

Hovering above him was Logan, Roman, and Virgil; all squeezing him in a tight hug. He coughed softly, and as he blinked the blurs in his vision away, he saw Logan open his eyes.

“Patton,” Logan whispered quietly, about to stand up and help Patton up as well.

“Sit down, Sir Talks-A-Lot,” Roman said, pulling Logan back down. Logan rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless.

“I actually need to stand up now, my leg’s asleep—”

“Shh, Squire Satire,” Roman hissed again, and Virgil sighed, leaning into the hug. Still holding Patton, he subconsciously brushed a strand piece of purple-dyed hair off Patton’s eyes.

Patton did nothing but stare at the people who surrounded him, watching as Logan closed his eyes once more and pulled them closer together. Roman was holding Patton’s hand. Virgil was wiping the sudden tears from Patton’s cheek.

He looked at their bright red, blue, purple colours; and Patton smiled.

“Hey,” Patton finally said after a few moments of silence, soaking in all the warmth his bright lights gave him, “you found me.”

a/n- you can read this on AO3 if you’d like! i appreciate all likes, reblogs, random words, whatever! thank you for reading :))

click here to read “golden slumbers” the story i was actually supposed to be writing today whoops

[merigreenleaf]

Gotta do the OC Pride Parade because my characters are all lgbt+ and all have their own flags. I shamelessly stole this idea from @loopyhoopydrabbles because I love making avatars of my dorks. I hope you don’t mind! Thanks @raevenlywrites for the tag and the OC idea! 

I might make other characters later, but for now here are my main ones in my lighthearted/comedic fantasy series. Clicking their names will take you to their bios/moodboards.

Adair: The main character in a cast of five where they're all really main characters. He's an arcane painter and cartographer who uses his magic to make interactive drawings and paintings. He's affectionate, kindhearted, and his love for puns is only surpassed by his love of pies and... well, honestly any kind of food. The boy loves his food. He's a trans boy and he's pansexual. He, Etri, and Blythe are in a relationship in a culture where arcane-linked triads are the norm.

Blythe: The only character in the bunch who ever has things under control. She’s the levelheaded one who tries to keep everyone else out of trouble- or, when this fails, because it always fails because the others can’t go five minutes without getting into trouble, she bails them out of it. She's a healer who trained as a Protectorate (people who guard art and artists), as well as a blade and knife performer with a carnival troupe. She's aromantic, probably specifically grey-aro. Her facial expression here of rolling her eyes is her usual reaction to dealing with the rest of these dorks.

Etri: The quiet one with social anxiety who's basically goth. He loves reading, history, and astronomy. He's worked as a thief previously but currently shares carnival acts with Blythe and Sol. He's calm, even-tempered, and loyal, the perfect balance to Adair's enthusiasm and Blythe's impatience. He's a panromantic asexual.

Sol: Happy, friendly, and optimistic, his level of sunshine rivals Adair's. He has a carnival fire act with his twin brother Etri, but his true calling is being an inventor. His brain is constantly racing with new ideas- and just generally racing because he has ADHD. He comes off as kind of airheaded, but this goofball is brilliant under all the silly. He's bisexual. Those glasses are supposed to represent the ridiculous goggles he always wears. Sol is the dorkiest of my dorks.

Firedrake: A cynical and sarcastic loner, Dray tends to keep to themself-- except when they're playing practical jokes on people. Dray is a fire dancer and has an obsession with fire and dragons, which is the reason they picked the name they did. Dray is nonbinary/agender and demisexual. And also very difficult to portray in an avatar generator. I hope the facial expression of “so done with all of you” came across, at least. Dray likes to say they’re above the nonsense of the other characters, but they’re usually in the thick of it. Oh, who am I kidding? They usually started the nonsense.

I’m pretty sure everyone is pretty familiar with my dorks by now, but I’ll tag some of my usual tag list peoples in case you want to see this. Feel free to also do a post about your OCs for pride month if you have lgbt+ characters and want to join in, but mostly I’m just tagging so I can go “look! It’s dorks!” :D  @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @megan-cutler @alittle-writer @perringwrites @madmooninc @thatwriternamedvolk @elliot-orion @wchwriter @lady-redshield-writes @shadow-maker @reeseweston @bluemartlet @pen-for-sword @writer-on-time @ravenpuffwriter @forlornraven @ghostsmooches @siarven @toboldlywrite @theguildedtypewriter 

Edit: Whoops! Forgot to say how I made these! I used an app called Doodle Face on my phone, then saved them to my laptop and used Paintshop to add flags in a layer behind the avatar.

[tangled-headphone-cord]

11 questions tag (langblr)

Thanks @mediocrelanguagelearner for letting me do this ehehe

1. How did you get interested in your target languages? English: Pokémon games. Emerald was the first one I played through.. Before that, I was not interested in learning other languages at all - I even refused to watch cartoons I didn’t understand. Modern English is not one of my favourite languages but it is what opened the door for me.

German: The primary reason I started to learn it was school, tbh. I used to hate it because it sounded hard and rough (but now I see this depends more on the individual’s speech mannerisms). But sometimes, it sounded nice. And it is the second language of several people I know/relatives, whose parents work or have worked in Germany/Austria. What really made me like it are the compund words tho. And Präteritum. Pretty.

Russian: My brother’s fault really. He was learning it at the time, and he’d say words that were similar enough to ours and ask if I could understand. Eventually I learned which clues to look for (’tis how I got into comparative linguistics) and it became real easy. One day Москва слезам не верит came up on tv, I only saw the second half then but I think that’s when I fell in love with the language. So soft! So aesthetic!

Polish: it started with this song (Lech Makowiecki - Prasłowiańska noc). I was already getting into Slavic languages in general. The fact some of my friends are Polish (and also I love the country) probably helps too

ok let’s keep it at this for now, it’s long enough.. There was a longer list including the languages I’ve only really dabbed at but apparently I forgot to save before closing and I don’t really wanna rewrite right now.

2. Do you have any methods of studying that you figured out and they work really well for you?

Exposure. Mostly songs, movies usually only when they come on tv (that’s not very often) whoops, and books if I can get any. For the start I prefer picturebooks and other short things, since reading in another language (due to script differences) can be pretty tiring. It’s also easier to follow the story in picturebooks. Though the only books I’ve read in Polish are actually novels of hundreds of pages but, welp!

Occasionally I read/look up grammar references, then observe grammar in practical use (eg when I read/listen to my target language). Significantly more looking up (if possible) when I have to actually write something myself.

3. How many and which languages have you learned and/or dabbled in in the past? My native languages Slovene and Croatian; the 4 listed above; Latin, Hungarian, Sindarin, Scottish Gaelic, Finnish; all but Latin (one year at school) were just dabs, really. Now on my “to learn sometime later” list. along with German which needs a LOT more practice

So that makes 11. But I’ve also at least dabbed at almost every Slavic language (besides the forementioned) too.

4. What do you think/how do you feel about your native language?

I love the variety of dialects, the dual form (Slovene), the single-word past tense verbs (aorist & imperfekt, Croatian), 19th century Slovene tbh!! (think Cankar, Slomšek etc), the Croatian high style syntax (altho it took me some while for my brain to stop going “no this is wrong!!” whenever I encountered it lol)

č đ š ž are nice and I wish they were used in every language that uses these sounds but writes them as digraphs.. or more than digraphs even I’m looking at you German ć is okay but not so necessary imo But tbh I’d totally add “ł” grapheme in Slovene to replace every L that is in fact pronounced like Ł (or get back to pronouncing every L as L! Which sounds real nice!) Also a ń (or ň) in Croatian because writing nj and saying it’s a single letter (in crosswords etc) is pretty dumb. Same for lj -  at least make it into a ligature. (an official one that is a single character on keyboards)

5. Is there a language you wouldn’t learn? Well there’s languages I’m not really into, yeah. 

6. Do you plan to have a language related job in the future? / Are you working in a language related field right now? That is my hope, yes

7. What script do you find the most beautiful? Tengwar. And round glagoljica.

8. For how long have you been studying foreign languages? ahh idk exactly, I started learning through immersion rather than systematic study, idk when the latter started tbh

9. What were the easiest and the most difficult languages for you to learn? English was the easiest. I didn’t even have to put in any effort (to get best grades) until high school, and even then minimal effort was good enough.

Most difficult I’d say was German.

I suppose though Old Church Slavic would get there too, not so much for being difficult per se but lack of resources & the way we’re doing it; the primary goal here is not being conversational, but analyzing the language. and eehh ugwwuiefndnnrezmk

10. How do you motivate yourself to study? I think of how cool it will be when I master all those languages not like it works that well because I’m super duper lazy

[rosasartventures]

December DIY- Mini Gingerbread House

Whoops, I forgot to post this last year! Here it is: super easy gingerbread house to make. I apologize for the sloppiness of the house, but we were anxious to eat them so they were made super quickly!

This is the last DIY I will be posting here for awhile!

Check out a fun printable gingerbread house from my Etsy shop (no baking required): http://etsy.me/2ATgNwJ

Mini Gingerbread House

Level: Easy/Medium

Time: 20 minutes to bake & 15 minutes to decorate

If you’d like to see step-by-step instructions, keep reading.

Step 1: Collect materials.

You’ll need:

• Gingerbread Recipe (I used a mix from the store that makes super easy gingerbread and its delicious! It’s made by Betty Crocker)

• Frosting

• Butter Knife

• Small candies to decorate

Step 2: Make the gingerbread dough (whichever is your favorite recipe will do)

Step 3: Roll out the dough flat and make the shapes.

For this step, cut out a large rectangle. Then cut in half lengthwise (as shown in the above picture, on the right). They cut those two long rectangles twice to make six mini rectangles. 

Step 4: Bake the gingerbread in the oven.

Follow the instructions to bake your cookies and let they cool. 

Step 5: Construct the gingerbread house.

Use frosting to construct the house. (I piped mine out of a plastic bag where I cut off the corner- super duper easy!) Just pipe frosting onto the sides and stick together. First construct the walls and then add the triangular roof. If you’d like it to be extra sturdy before placing the roof, you can put the constructed walls in the refrigerator to harden. 

We added a mini marshmallow for a door!

Step 6: Add decorations & any finishing touches!

I’d love to see your mini gingerbread houses! Tag them: #artworkbyrosadiy here on tumblr or any other social media site & tag me! 

Twitter handle: @RCLopezArt

Instagram handle: @rosasartventures

Facebook: @Rclopezart

I’d love to hear what you think! What;s your favorite Holiday Cookie?

This is my last monthly DIY, thanks for following along!