#the plain hand with the rolled up sleeve is morrie

[mc-tummy-blur]

Serious Lightbearer DLC fanart this time featuring another iDKHOW song SATANIC PANIC

As it’s based off of this picture of Dallon Weekes (creator of iDKHOW):

Click for better quality

Check my pinned post to see links on how you can help the people of Palestine

[sun-kissed-star]

that car crash fic killed me and I want you to fix it 😭😭😭😭😭

I was gonna make this angsty ( @crutchieee-morris wanted me to) but I was listening to happy music while I wrote this and also I noticed you were kinda down today, so have a happy ending! 

Too bright. Everything was too white and fluorescent. The walls blended into the ceiling so you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Albert squeezed his half-open eyes shut again, groaning softly through the hoarse croak in his throat.

There was a sharp breath from his other side. Someone squeezed his hand.

“Albie?”

The voice was familiar, more than familiar. He wanted to squeeze back, do something to let the person know he was there and listening, but the most he could muster himself to do was twitch a couple fingers.

“Easy, Racer. Give him a couple minutes before you pounce on him.”

“I wasn’t gonna pounce on him!”

“Mhm.”

Albert’s lips twitched as Race - he thought it was Race, no one could miss that distinct, high-pitched voice that Albert had gotten so used to hearing - bickered with… Jack. Yes, that was Jack. He was teasing Race now, and Albert heard a squeak from Race that probably meant Jack was attacking his ribs.

Albert willed his eyes to open, but it was like they were weighed down by the pain and ache all over him. He just wanted to curl up and sleep for the rest of his life, but that small part of his mind was still prying at his eyes, reminding him that his best friend was waiting on the other side of the darkness.

He managed another small grunt, and the giggled protests from the waging tickle fight stopped. Albert felt another hand squeeze, and Race’s voice was going from loud and whining to soft and worried in a second. Albert felt a pang of guilt for ruining his fun. Clearing his throat, he whispered, in the raspiest voice he could have had, “Geez, talk about crashin’ the party, huh?”

It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do - and he once had to babysit Les - but he got his eyes open to see Race’s face an inch from his own. There were tears on his cheeks. “Don’t look too happy about it, Racer.”

Race drew back and wiped his sleeve across his face, sniffling. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s just…” He huffed, dropping his head down by Albert’s bedside, nearly touching his chin to his chest. “I thought you were dead, Albie.”

“Hey,” Albert scoffed, blinking to rid the tempting sleep from his eyes. “It’s gonna take more than some idiot driver to get rid of me.”

“You calling yourself an idiot driver, Al?”

Albert would have rolled his eyes, but his head was pounding enough as it was. “Hey, Jackie.”

Jack rolled his eyes for him, lightly smacking his knee. “To be fair, you really are an idiot, kid.” He glanced at the door, then the clock. “Davey’s out in the waiting room with a couple of the guys so they wouldn’t stampede you before you’re ready. He’s also ready to give you a lecture about the safeties of driving or whatever, so I’d prepare for that if I was you.”

“Sure, yeah,” Albert said, waving his hand in dismissal weakly. “Tell Mister Mom Friend to bring them in. Can’t hold them all back forever.”

Jack shot him a thumbs up, then backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Race watched him go with a wan grin, but when he turned back to Albert, he looked scared, hesitant, and guilty all at once. He coughed into his fist awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair, but even in his half-asleep state, Albert could hear the whimper he was trying to cover.

“Look, Al,” he said nervously. “I’m… I’m really sorry. I know you, uh, you told me to shut my trap and I probably should’ve, it would have saved us this whole mess and you wouldn’t be sitting here.” When Albert just stared at him, he fumbled to get up from where he was kneeling by the bed. “I-I’ll just go - let you have some time to yourself or talk to the other guys or whatever…”

“Race, wait.” Albert struggled to prop himself up without his elbows, acutely aware of the IVs sticking this way and that out of his arms. “Dammit, Racer, don’t make me chase after you when I look like this.” Race’s lips quirked up in a smirk. “What the hell are you talking about? What did you do? Last time I checked, you weren’t the asshole that hit us in that crash.”

“I-I was distracting you,” Race said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and avoiding the look Albert was giving him. “Hell, if I’d just shut my damn mouth, none of this would have -”

“Race,” Albert interrupted, letting out a bark of laughter, ignoring the jab to his lungs, “I’m pretty sure if that guy you were screaming at and calling a dumbass managed not to hit anyone, it wasn’t your fault. Chill, man. I’m not mad at you and it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. It was probably that other car that hit us. I’ll have you know,” he lifted a hand to his chest, mocking pride in himself, “I’m a great driver.”

Race laughed and wiped his eyes again. “Keep dreaming, DaSilva.”

They grinned at each other, but they didn’t have much time to take in the peace and quiet of the room. Someone knocked on the door, and then it was flying open so Albert and Race had a clear view of Jojo, Finch, and Romeo holding their ears up to the door to listen in.

“Their idea!” Romeo said, pointing accusingly at Finch and Jojo. Finch whacked him on the head, then he and Jojo ran in as the rest of their friends crammed themselves inside, filling every last crevice of the room with noise and laughter and loud questions. Albert couldn’t help but smile because, suddenly, the room didn’t seem quite so empty and plain.