#too bad i guess XD

[slashingdisneypasta]

You know that thing you mighta done when you were little where you write your full name ontop of your crushes full name and count how many coinciding letters you have and that somehow corresponded with how compatible you were??...

I mighta done... that thing... with F/O's... XD

And I recommend it! Because it's fun XD

[seirei-bh]

I was feeling nostalgic today and I rewatched some episodes of Castiel's routes in HSL and Nathaniel's routes in UL, and I didn't remember that both characters also call Candy "kitty/kitten" at least once! So it's not just a Jason's thing XDD

[cienie-isengardu]

MK1 fanfiction

EDIT: now all chapters will be collected under the title of Cracked mirror of black, cold soul

No one asked for it, but as I did not get enough Bi-Han & Shang Tsung interaction, I was forced to write about them myself. The first part is at least done, we will see if I managed to finish the second. Mainly written as a character study of MK1!Shang Tsung, a bit about his relationship with Damashi, General Shao and potential partnership with Sub-Zero post story-mode.

There was a time when Shang Tsung was nothing more than just a pitiful loser clinging to an even more pathetic life. All he could do to survive was to pretend to be someone else, someone better, wiser; someone worthy of trust, someone people like and listen to. Lying to people was easy. Lying to himself anyone would care if he died came much harder and harder with each passing day. 

Then came Damashi and offered him not only power but also kindness, a praise for making progress, be it for fulfilling her plans or for his own growing skills. He would gladly burn the world just to earn her smile, a good word, anything really. She made him for the first time in a long long time feel valued, appreciated, even liked despite who he was under all the polite words and charming smiles.

But that was a lie too. A lie he foolishly fell for, like a stray, hungry dog falls for a kind pat on the head and a little treat before the new owner will kick it for fun.

Shang Tsung was many things but definitely not a dog to be kicked, be it by Liu Kang or his Titan self. If none of the gods cared for him, he wouldn't care for them either. And now, after he ran away from prison and a terrifying storm washed him ashore on a deserted island full of magic secrets to unlock, he had time and means to repay each of his pursuers, to make all the realms if not respect his skills then fear them.

Since Damashi’s - his own Titan self’s - betrayal many days and nights have passed and with each Shang Tsung’s mastery of magic grew stronger, his knowledge deepened, his confidence restored and strengthened. He claimed the island as his new home, the impregnable fortress secured by the most wicked, devilish and brilliant traps he could think about and for the first time in ages, he finally felt like belonging to the right place.

It was as good a life as it could be. Not perfect, as Shang Tsung still needed to figure out how to secure his food supplies before he would tame the wild land, unused for years and maybe the animals lurking in the shadows could be useful too. A domestic cattle would be a great addition for sure, as it was the only type of animal he had any skill to maintain but then again, there was no way he would engage in tedious farming. He had no time nor patience for that kind of work yet he did not want any stranger on his island either. All he could do for now was to eat the catched fishes and some plucked from tree fruits while bringing all the needed ingredients and supplies from a quick trip to the land. Using magic portals was a tricky solution - magic brought unwanted attention and once used, always left some traits to follow but after the last storm he did not feel safe on a boat sailing through the open sea. On the land, he did run into some of his former allies, exchanged important news and some secrets here and there, never truly betraying where he was hiding. The General and his men treated Shang Tsung with suspicion, always demanding more than he offered. On the other hand, he and Quan Chi worked well in the past, but after the last betrayal, Shang Tsung couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone blamed him for his Titan self’s lies, like he was the one lying to them all. The Royal Family wanted his head, the Earthrealm Champions hunted him too. It was a mess, amusing and irritating at the same time. 

He was going to deal with that matter too, when the right time came. For now, Shang Tsung enjoyed the new found magic - the power awaiting for those who will dare to reach out for it. A power he didn’t need to share with anyone.  

Everything would feel much better though if Sub-Zero didn’t somehow find a way to break into his new home like all the deviously set up traps meant nothing.

Shang Tsung should know something was off the moment he felt coldness creeping into his bones, but in all fairness, it was always cold here. He did not have yet an idea how to heat the interior of an abandoned fortress and as much as he liked to not freeze in his own sleep, luxury like that was not on his priority list. He should be more cautious, more focused on the change in the air about him than walking straight into his own room and then be dumstocked at the sight of Sub-Zero looking through his books as if he had lived here forever and Shang Tsung was the unwanted guest.

“Your security is shitty” was all he got as a greeting. Cold, sharp, uncaring words judging him as an incompetent idiot. The bastard did not even bother to look at him, just kept rummaging through the books like it was the only thing worth this attention.

Shang Tsung wasn’t sure what offended him more - being ignored or watching as his precious belongings were touched without his permission. He liked books way more than he liked people. 

In the last few years he killed people for less than that yet he smiled his most charming smile, the gears in his head working fast and furious on how to turn the unpleasant situation for his own advantage. The fact that Sub-Zero allowed him to see himself in the open instead of lurking in the shadows to cut his throat gave Shang Tsung a reason for a bit of optimism. As far as he heard from his former, maybe-still-maybe-not allies, Lin Kuei rejected Liu Kang’s authority and were on their own. It of course did not mean that Sub-Zero was his friend or ally nor that he wouldn't murder Shang Tsung at the end of day, either to reconcile with Fire Lord or to bribe the god to let the Lin Kuei be in peace.

Shang Tsung couldn’t blame Bi-Han for that - in this cruel world, everyone was looking after their own best interest, but the vision of losing his life did not sit well with him at all. He wasn’t afraid of fighting and he did beat down great Champions in the last battle, but out of all opponents, it was Sub-Zero's ice axe that was the closest to beheading him for good.

He did not plan to forget that anytime soon.

“What an unexpected surprise,” he said, all the soft, so sweet smile, velvet voice and sharp eyes analyzing the danger standing before him. “What can I do for you, my friend? Or did you just miss my humble company?”

He teased with feigned innocence because men hated when he said ridiculous stuff like that. Shang Tsung hated it himself, because he knew no one would miss him at all.  

“For one, drop the false politeness” came Sub-Zero’s cold reply, a mix of disapproval and command that Shang Tsung was so used to, because this was how people treated him, the real him, all his life. “We are not friends.”

There was a flare of anger in Shang Tsung now, the desire to prove himself the superior, not a pitiful dog anyone could kick and command - but he knew better than to allow this fire to burn inside him. Emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford. Did the man even know how much he provoked the sorcerer with his cold disdain? Shang Tsung had no idea. He heard a lot of stories about Lin Kuei; even in the backwater hole from which he crawled out everyone heard the terrifying tales of Fire Lord’s secret army. Of the ice demons stealthier than shadows and more deadly than night itself and for a long time Shang Tsung did not think of them as living beings from this world.

Still… Sub-Zero was mortal, wasn’t he? A special one no doubt, with control over ice yet he could bleed too. Shang Tsung wondered for a moment what he could find under the fine, cold skin if he ever had a chance to look for the answer. An ice demon, human or hybrid of both?

“But we are still allies, aren’t we?” he asked, still polite and careful, yet walking up to the other man with his typical swagger. Not close enough to be in arm reach, but close enough to show he wasn’t that easily intimidated. 

The great military hero of Edenia always looked down on his movements; how he fought, how he gesticulated, how he walked. No self-respecting soldier would walk like some pleased prostitute after a well-paid job, the General said not once nor twice and all Shang Tsung could do then was to smile the brightest smile and thank him, like his disdain was the best praise he heard that day. The only thing they really have in common, beside the desire to take down Sindel’s regime, was being self-made men for both worked hard to be who they were. Yet General came from an old, aristocratic family with even older military tradition and everything that did not fit his narrow-minded idea of the world was treated with hostility and contempt. 

Shang Tsung’s skinny body, swagger, shrewdness, curiosity and wordiness unsurprisingly annoyed the great warrior and to say he took no pleasure in that fact would be a blatant lie. Even if it was childish and unproductive pleasure, it amused him to know how little effort he needed to test the patience of such a stern and manly man. 

Sub-Zero reminded him a lot of Shao and he suspected it was the soldier thing; the body built for fight and hardship, no-nonse attitude and the way both men moved - with deadly precision and confidence only a person that in fact killed an enemy in battle could muster. Even the way they spoke sounded similar, a barked command that everyone around instinctively wanted to obey, either out of respect or fear.

For that similarity alone, Shang Tsung expected the Lin Kuei Grandmaster to snarl at him some nasty remark about how his Titan self betrayed them all and thus how little he himself was worth of anyone’s trust. Anything to put the sorcerer down even a bit, to remind him what a failure he was.

“That is yet to be seen” was all the Grandmaster said, finally glancing from the book to Shang Tsung. 

It was hard to read anything from the man’s face, as half of it was hidden behind that damned Lin Kuei mask. All he could do was to rely on the move of a brew and the incantation of voice, each syllable, a moment of pause. It was a hard task, as the man showed no emotions and spoke so little so far. But the sorcerer knew there was anger, always lurking in each word spoken by Sub-Zero, but also… an excitement at finally being free of Liu Kang’s control. As Damashi foretold.

Shang Tsung couldn’t help but to think there was something much deeper about Damashi's interest in breaking Lin Kuei from Fire Lord than he ever suspected before. Back then the choice sounded logical - every action that would deprive Liu Kang of the advantage was worth taking so he did not question his benefactor. How could he, really? Now though? The truth burned him to the core and he learned the hard way that each of Damashi’s words had a hidden meaning, each action served a different goal than was promised; the victory he was in fact never part of. Yet… even the deepest shade of lie had a grain of truth. He knew that one well, for he lied all his life.

His Titan self for some reason wanted not so much the Lin Kuei itself as the Sub-Zero specifically on his side. Maybe more than Titan Shang Tsung even wanted his own younger self, corrupted by Liu Kang. 

The mere thought made him want to curse all gods alike. There was no difference for him between Liu Kang and his Titan-self, as both played him like some pawn, not even an important figure. Just pawn, to hold away from power, to sacrifice it when times would come. 

But there was more to it than just jealous anger and the never ending feeling of never being good enough. If Sub-Zero meant so much, if not in the grand scheme of things itself then just for personal satisfaction of Titan, then maybe he could be important to Shang Tsung’s own plans. Allies were hard to come by and these days he could use some, well, not protection really, he was done with living under someone else's wing but he wouldn’t say no to some partnership or at least casual support. The little favor here and there where things were still thick and troublesome to deal on your own. After all, freedom always came at some cost. 

Maybe Sub-Zero came to the same conclusion and his unexpected visit was just a reconnaissance. They were more alike than one would think, as similar desires drove them into this madness of Titans. To prove their own might and skills to all those that looked down on them their whole life. But above everything else, to be free and powerful enough to keep that freedom.

To his own surprise, Shang Tsung took comfort in that thought.

If they were meant to stay allies - or as close two stubborn outcasts with grudge against gods could rely on each other, some sacrifices were to be made. Shang Tsung did something he rarely did - he dropped the false politeness under which he hid himself for years.

“How did you find me?” he asked Sub-Zero directly, raising his chin challengingly. He was not afraid of Lin Kuei, just curious.

“You are not as careful as you think you are” Bi-Han answered with no less challenging stare, yet the flick of an amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. Shang Tsung knew the man was smirking under that damned mask and that thought alone made him puff in anger. 

The brown eyes shone even more.

Sub-Zero moved from his place, slowly walking from one bookshelf to another. His fingers traced books, never stopping at any particular volume, but always touching the book spines, like there was something interesting in their textures. The man did not pay attention to Shang Tsung and not really to books either. He was studying the room itself. The sorcerer couldn’t place why it bothered him so much but he knew better than to allow Sub-Zero to learn even the most trivial things about himself or his fortress. 

Damashi warned him against that the first day when she spoke about Lin Kuei. They are thieves, the mysterious being said, all grace and patience and praise for the unwanted Shang Tsung who drank in her words like the wisdom of gods, who will steal your fortune, life and secrets. Always be on your guard around them, especially around the one named Sub-Zero. If only he was smarter back then, less in need to please his generous benefactor, maybe he could hear in her sweet voice the longing for something, someone, that was not anymore. For the old partnership that was broken and defiled by Liu Kang’s peaceful vision of the world. But he was a fool who thought her yearning was for him alone. 

Shang Tsung was done with being played like a fool.

“Who told you about my island?” he demanded, voice still quiet yet no less burning with an old anger. He would get his answers, whatever kindly or by force.

A long sigh escaped Sub-Zero’s lips and frankly it took him out by surprise. Shang Tsung - or rather his Titan self -  knew the man was running on frustration for years, but that sounded as a whole new level of annoyance.

“I heard about it from Havik, who heard that from Rain, who heard that from Reiko, who heard that from Shao, who heard about it from Quan Chi. But the whole Sun Do is full of similar gossip.”

For a moment none of them spoke. Shang Tsung stared at Sub-Zero’s impassive, half-hidden face that still somehow emanated his disgust at their maybe-allies-maybe-not-but-definitely-idiots who apparently couldn’t keep a secret to save their own life. The feeling was mutual, because this was the reason why the sorcerer hated working with others. No one apparently could keep their mouth shut down if you didn’t help make that permanently. 

He closed eyes and rubbed his forehead, like that could ward off all the bad thoughts assaulting his mind right now.  His fingers were cold, too cold for his liking, unpleasantly stiff and numb. He did not like how the mere presence of a cryomancer affected his body, how it made him shiver and weak. He was an Edenian for fuck’s sake, and Edenia did not even know what winter cold was. He did not know that himself, until Damashi led him to a snow-covered fortress and he almost freezed there the first night. 

It took him a moment to realize something bad was happening. He couldn’t focus, all his senses dulled, body so clumsy and weak. As if his energy suddenly dropped to zero and fatigue was taking over. A flash of panic crossed his mind, but he was too tired, too cold to even be afraid for his life.

He had no idea how long he remained in the grip of this piercing soul frost. A few seconds? Days? He couldn’t even say. What mattered was that once the control of his senses came back, he was still alive and Sub-Zero gone.

And the fact the bastard stole a few of his precious scrolls and books.

***

The books showed up on his desk a few days later. There was no thank you or sorry about that note, not even the fuck you, loser. Shang Tsung both admired the man's boldness and hated him for it. Still he appreciated the books were returned in a good condition, as there was not a single scratch on any of them, not even a new page crease. He had no idea if that was some sort of weird Lin Kuei’s way to test him, disrespect or Sub-Zero took the books simply because he wanted to read them but he was a bastard with no sense of social politeness to just ask as any normal human being would. Damashi mentioned cryomancers were naturally difficult like that.

Shang Tsung had better things to do than to wonder what the check was wrong with Sub-Zero yet he was too curious for his own sake. Sadly, the titles alone did not say anything useful on the matter and even though he read each book just in case, there was hardly anything worth the time it took to finish them. No grand secrets revealed, no magic or military knowledge, not even historical value. Just some technical nonsense that bore him to death and if Sub-Zero was into stuff like that then no wonder the man lacked any social grace. 

The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei so far did not try to kill him and returned the books so Shang Tsung decided to give him the benefit of doubt and so he did not cross out the man from the list of potential allies. It did not stop him however from improving the traps just in case the man decided to return solely to steal again.

***

The scrolls showed up on his desk three days later. Their appearance actually worried Shang Tsung, not just because the trap again turned out to be useless. He was not worried even by the possibility Sub-Zero found some secret entrance he did not know about yet. No, what worried him was the fact he spent the whole morning in his chamber and walked out for like twenty minutes at best and when he returned, the scrolls WERE. THERE. 

That actually unnerved him much more than he wanted to admit. 

The scrolls turned out to be written in a language Shang Tsung did not even know and the implication that Lin Kuei could read it only added to the feeling of cold unease. There was however a note left on the scrolls; a small paper with only Royal Army searching the coast written in Shang Tsung’s own language. 

He was not afraid of empress Mileena’s army but he did appreciate the warning. Of course, the warning could be a fraud, a means to build trust only to betray him. The common sense advised caution yet there was a weird sense of peace within Shang Tsung. A hope or hunch, he did not know, but deep in his heart he felt everything was alright.

All he could do for now was wait to see if Sub-Zero will lead the enemy to his fortress or not. So he waited.

(The fact that another book disappeared with Sub-Zero did not surprise him much. Irritated, yes, but not worried. For some reason he felt everything was like it should be, like some almost forgotten memory of past life came back to him and the sense of deja vu was weirdly comforting.)

[spicylove4ever]

How did he know about that imperial law indeed....

But that's just me. He could have learnt by law lessons when he was young since the Grand Duke and all that.

[bluebunnysart]

I like how today's chibi sketch turned out so I'll upload it! 😊 Tsundere is nice <3

It's because I fell in love with this picture and I get SUPER excited whenever I think I can recognize my AU versions of them (and I definitely can in that pic, down to the expression and height and everything) so I wanted to draw them for real 🥰

My faves 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 (Android Miku x Chimera Teto)

[gmod-gravityfalls-dipper-mod]

Cwan I eat one of da flwoorbwoards - box

[amethystina]

Hello <3

Can I ask u to talk about "how to build a family for dummies?" That sounds really cute (*^^*)

Hi there! 💜

Unfortunately, it's not very cute at all x'D

Or, well, that's not entirely true. It would end happily because that's the only way I want my stories to end, but it deals with pretty heavy subjects and there would be quite a lot of angst involved. Which, admittedly, is why I'm still not entirely sure if I want to write this one since angst isn't really my thing. BUT it also has a lot of fascinating introspection from Yo Han so that might end up being what tips the scale.

Basically, it's a fic that goes deeper into what I wrote in this earlier ask about how Yo Han would need a lot of time to figure out whether or not he wants kids. After all, there's a lot to work through what with his own childhood and how he perceives himself as something not quite human. And, I mean, how fascinating wouldn't that be? To watch him try to think his way through a decision like that?

Anyhow. I wrote in the tags to that post that I don't even want to IMAGINE how painful it would be if Ga On was led to believe that Yo Han doesn't want kids because he'd be so heartbroken and disappointed — since Ga On definitely wants kids — but also wouldn't want to pressure Yo Han. So he'd just swallow it down and pretend that everything was fine. Except it's clearly not.

And I was foolish enough to say "I refuse to even entertain the idea" because, as we all know: famous last words.

Because I started wondering just what that would do to Yo Han. Like, what would he think and feel when he realises that he accidentally broke Ga On's heart and now has to figure out if he actually wants kids after all. Because he knows that just saying he's changed his mind won't work since Ga On wouldn't want Yo Han to lie to him about something like that. Yo Han would have to mean it and that would only increase the stakes in his mind.

Also, imagine Yo Han's brain running on overdrive trying to analyse every little thing Ga On does, wanting to figure out if he's made irreparable damage to their relationship. Like, he'd try to see if Ga On's smiles have become less bright, if his hugs have become less enthusiastic, if he's become more guarded, if he's become more distracted etc. etc.

It would be such a goddamn mess inside Yo Han's head.

Basically, what I find fascinating about this fic would be Yo Han's thought process and how he tries to deal with all the emotions and complications the situation causes. But it would also hurt because Ga On would be sad and if Ga On is sad, Yo Han is sad. Everyone would be sad.

But it would also include this hilarious exchange between Yo Han and Elijah, once Yo Han is beginning to get used to the idea of getting kids and has to see how Elijah would react to it.

Sooo yeah. I'm still on the fence about this one, I will admit, but it would be a pretty nice change of pace since it would basically be more of a stream-of-consciousness thing from Yo Han's POV rather than something plot-heavy. So we'll see!

Maybe I'll write it, maybe I won't.

WIP Tag Game

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

using my man to mess around with colors<333

[thunderxleafart]

"I like the new colour, Ben, it really suits you!" "Suits you too, Bill!"

Just a quick post today to prove that I'm still alive LOL

This was loosely inspired by the Thomas & Friends Episode "Bill or Ben?", but instead of the blue livery they recieved in said episode, I thought it'd be fun to give them the liveries based on the IRL inspiration for the twins; Alfred and Judy.

It also unintentionally kinda gives them a more "festive" look, which... considering December's right around the corner, that's pretty appropriate, I think! xD

And while the yellow is iconic (and even their blue livery from said episode was pretty fun), I gotta say, they don't look too shabby in green! ;D

I'm working on some bigger projects atm (as well as getting hooked on yet another game god dangit x'D), but I still wanted to post something for November. And since the Train brainrot is still going strong, here ya go! :D

A silly lil doodle of some equally silly tank engine twins for you all to enjoy!

That's all for now, though! December's likely going to be a busy month but I'll still try to post at least once more before the year end! But alas, I guess we'll see! x'D

And as always, thanks for looking everybody!~ ^w^ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bill & Ben (c) Thomas & Friends Art (c) Me! <3

[egg-emperor]

what the hell Eggman I literally do the same thing but with an hour lmfao. I'll sleep one hour to wake up to work on something with that bit of energy then go back to sleep to wake up in an hour again to work on something else with constant alarm setting just like that. we're both so fucked up fdsjgjdnsfgh

[countlessrealities]

@mcltiples sent:

The portal opened up in the apartment. It's in the middle of the night. Definitely not the hour that someone should be visiting, yet, Morty can't help himself. He's drunk. A bottle of Scotch nearly emptied in his hand, swinging as he walked, legs wobbled.

He doesn't care what state that he finds his counterpart in. All he cared about were the words he rehearsed in his head. What he needed to say. That he drank to give him the courage to do so.

"M-Morty," He's too drunk to notice his own stutter. It's not something he's willing to control right now either. "I-I'm sorry, I realize the error of my ways. I've been an asshole to you. Th-This whole time, I've been trying to protect my feelings, to make you fall for me as I-I have with you. A-And it backfired, I-I've been an idiot,"

He stepped closer. "A-All I wanted was you, y-you're all I've ever wanted in someone a-and I fucked it up, I-I fucked everything up big time,"

Suddenly his legs gave out, ending up on his knees. That's when the tears came, flooding down his face. His lips quivered. "I-If you don't like me, just tell me, I-I'll understand. I-I'll get over it. I-I just need to know,"

Sobbing uncontrollably was something he hadn't done in a while. And now that it was happening, he couldn't stop it. "I-I just love you so much and I would do anything for you, but I-I can't seem to show you. I-It's hard. A-And I'm so tired of these games, I-I can't do it anymore. I-I don't want to be playing these games with you. I-I just want to love you....."

{ To your E-Morty from my E-Morty // i'm so sorry about this fdshjfkds }

The sound of a portal opening caught Morty off guard. The noise was as familiar as his own breathing by now, but he hadn't been expecting any guests that night. He had even dismissed his second-in-command, because he had wanted to be truly alone. There was so much ongoing inside him. So many thoughts, so many feelings. He had no idea of how to deal with them, but he refused to ask for help.

Not that he had anyone he could turn to. One of the only two people he trusted enough to show his vulnerable side to wouldn't have been able to give him advice. As for the other one, he was the very cause of his current inner turmoil.

Useless to say, finding himself faced with that one person caught him off guard, even if he wasn't as surprised as one might have thought. Deep down, he knew that this would happen. One of them would have given in, at some point. The tension and the distance between them had gotten just too much.

Still, he was glad that it hadn't been him, because crawling back to his other self, when the latter had been the one to hurt him, would have been admitting defeat. And that was a weakness he couldn't afford.

He remained quiet as his counterpart spoke, head tilted on one side and expression unreadable. Underneath the blank mask he was wearing, however, he was nowhere near as unaffected as he looked. The glass in his hand and the mostly empty bottle of Scotch on the coffee table betrayed the truth.

He managed not to react, not to how his other self was acting nor to his words, until his counterpart fell on his knees in front of him. He was crying, begging for forgiveness, professing his undying love to him with no shame.

Vulnerable. Weak. Pathetic.

And yet Morty's heart ached for him as it had never done for anyone before.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, he downed the remaining contents of his glass in one go, setting it down next to the bottle. His head was swimming, and it was hard to tell why. Was it the alcohol in his system? Or the emotions that were filling his chest, painfully constricting it? Probably both.

Gritting his teeth, he knelt down in turn, putting himself at the other's level. He hesitated just a second before reaching out, taking that face between his palms to coax his counterpart to glance up.

"Morty. Look at me," he said, half way between a request and an order. He didn't want to be too harsh, but he also refused to waste time on simple requests.

Patiently, he waited for his words to be followed before continuing.

"Yes, you hurt me. Even worse, you made me feel like all the efforts I've made for you, all the things I've confessed to you only, all the exceptions to my rules I've made for you...You made me feel like it all meant nothing to you."

Such a bitter feeling, having allowed himself to finally open up to someone, just to find himself set aside and devalued.

"You've been a fool. You've angered me, humiliated me, and being unable to show to me how much you actually care for me. We both played games, we both pulled that rope, but I made sure to never go too far. You, on the other hand, never seemed to want to return that favour."

He didn't try to hide the hint of resentment in his voice. And why should he? His other self obviously knew that he had fucked up, he was admitting that much. He deserved to stick his fingers in the bleeding wound. It was payback, an eye for and eye.

"I should be done with you. And, if you were anyone else, I would have locked you away and kept you as a tool to relieve my stress." A nameless living being he could torture whenever he felt like. "You don't realise how lucky you are."

Afte that, his expression softened, even if just imperceptibly. The next words were the trickiest, because they meant that he would be offering his unguarded heart one more time. One last time, one last chance.

"But I can't do that, not to you. Because I...I want you with me. I'm tired of all those games too. I'm bored with them, I'm fed up with them." Especially since they had been bringing him more pain than entertainment lately. "I want honesty, I was a sign that I can let you in. And you finally gave me one tonight."

He swallowed, shifting closer, eyes falling on those wet lips for the briefest moment.

"I'm not forgiving you...yet. But I refuse to let you go, Morty. Because, against my better judgement, I...I love you too."

He didn't wait for an answer, he couldn't bear to hear one right now. So, instead, he pressed forward, sealing their mouths together. A kiss full of longing, frustration, hurt, need, love. He wanted nothing more than to consume his counterpart, to make them one, so they could never be apart, never betray each other again.

If only...

He didn't break away until his lungs forced him, burning for the lack of oxygen, and when he did he made sure that their gazes could meet, amber orbs looking slightly unfocused.

"...Stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, we'll figure this out. For now, I'll let you love me. And I'll put your pieces back together."

[viciousbite]

Your most likely personality style is:

Histrionic

Your test scores suggest that your personality style entails: That you have a strong need for attention and affection, but contrary to what could be expected, you are not passive and receptive, waiting for others to notice you of their own accord. On the contrary, you are actively manipulating others to notice you in order to feed your flair for melodrama and nascent attention-seeking. To gain attention, you dramatize matters pertaining to yourself, ranging from clothing, appearance, manner of speaking, and sexuality. You try different tactics with new people to figure out what makes each person respond well to you, modifying yourself in an attempt to gain popularity and admiration. Your behavior is seductive, witty, charming, and gregarious, while at the same time seeming childish and immature. So long as you are with people who greatly enjoy your company, you are contented and the life of the party, yet when you are alone you are sometimes beset by brooding thoughts that you are really unworthy of love.

Disinhibition describes a preference for impulsivity and a lack of self-control. Individuals with high Disinhibition may act on immediate desires without considering consequences, showing poor planning and decision-making. This facet includes tendencies toward irresponsibility, recklessness, and difficulty adhering to rules or routines. It reflects challenges in regulating behavior, emotions, and impulses, often leading to risky or self-damaging actions and difficulties in achieving long-term goals.

Tagged by: @prevailinghatred ((Thank you <3)) Tagging: Whoever wants to do it <3

((Did it twice to see what happens, and below is the first result xD))

Narcissistic

Your test scores suggest that your personality style entails: A grandiose over-valuation of self-worth and an extreme conviction of your own importance and uniqueness. The way you see it, you are entitled to admiration and affection by virtue of your intrinsic magnificence, and so you go through life expecting to be treated with reverent attention. You care little for others beyond what they can do for you and have little understanding of the concept of reciprocity. But you are not vindictive, because you perceive yourself to be entirely "above" the petty give-and-takes that others engage in. So long as the admiration which you feel is your due is forthcoming from others in some shape or form, you are contented and even benevolent.

[ford-ye-fiji]

don’t get me wrong I love ghibli movies but what on earth is happening in tales of earthsea????

[elvenbeard]

Lucky

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: V is lucky to be alive still after a heist gone right but many other things gone wrong lately. Maybe it's not too late yet to pick up the pieces, but even with fewer and fewer options to go forward, his path seems unclear. (Post-Sun-Ending, Chapter 3/?, 4477 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, no warnings except for angst and a hospital setting >.>)

>> Previous Chapter >> First Chapter

The next thing V remembered was his biomonitor going off, beeping on high alert, the emergency protocol reciting its little speech.

“Vincent, it appears you have been in a car accident,” it said, “Remain calm, Trauma Team are on their way. Estimated arrival time: 90 seconds. Try not to move.”

He could barely breathe, let alone move. In his initial shock he didn’t even feel the pain as much, but he was squeezed in between his seat and steering wheel. The windshield was cracked, casting a kaleidoscope of red and blue and golden light across his face, blurry shapes running around outside. People were screaming and there was one hell of a commotion, more gunshots fired, police barking orders, but long before he could fully grasp what was happening, V’s consciousness faded again.

“Vincent?” a gentle voice brought him back from the darkness – how much time had passed?

“Stay calm, we’re getting you out of here.”

The man wore full Trauma Team combat gear. Before V had even come to his senses, they’d already forced the warped door open, put a neck brace on him, and maneuvered him out of the car. He didn’t remember how exactly, only that one moment he was still trapped in there, the next he lay on a stretcher, surrounded by medics, Megabuidling H10 towering above them. Police sirens were blaring, and the deep droning of the Trauma Team AV not far left of him made his head hurt even more.

“Client is conscious but disoriented,” one of the medics said, another listed V’s vitals and the drugs she was about to administer. At least four people were all over him cutting open his clothes, poking him with needles, shining lights into his eyes, and strapping him to the stretcher in preparation for transport.

“Vincent, do you know what year it is?”

“It’s just V,” he barely managed to croak, his throat dry and tight.

“Sorry?”

“Just call me V,” he repeated, “And it’s 2077. The fourth of September.”

“Very good,” the medic said, “Do you remember what happened? Where were you going?”

“Was on my way home,” he said as a strangely warm, numbing sensation washed over him, the painkillers probably, “Tygers crashed into me… right in front of my front door…”

The stretcher was lifted from the ground as soon as they’d fixed him to it. Due to the brace, he couldn’t really look around, but quickly the view of his old apartment complex was replaced by the interior of the Trauma Team AV. He’d wondered if he’d ever see the inside of one again, and he was actually very thankful now that Kerry had coerced him into purchasing a membership not that long ago.

“Kerry…” V murmured, but he barely recognized his own voice. Whatever they’d given him, it was the good stuff.

“Is he your emergency contact?” was the last thing V remembered one of the medics asking before he drifted off to sleep.

He wasn’t sure if what followed was a dream or not, flashing images of people he didn’t know talking to him, bright lights, strange noises, a sense of urgency and worry and confusion. Then just soothing darkness for a long, long time. There were worse ways to die than just fading out like this… he knew from firsthand experience. There was no fear in just falling asleep and never waking up again, no pain, no hatred and betrayal, no sorrow and regrets. There was no glory either… but by the time it came to it, V realized, that wouldn’t be his concern anymore anyway.

A familiar but unexpected noise slowly pulled V out of his deep, almost dreamless sleep. For a moment he wondered if any of this had even happened – from meeting Mr. B to infiltrating the Crystal Palace, to ending up in front of a red stoplight with the worst possible timing. But when he opened his eyes to bleak white hospital walls, reality hit him even harder. He was still here, still breathing, his heart still beating. He could still barely move his head either, but even without doing so, the warm calming presence squeezed onto the left half of the bed beside him was undeniable. He realized it was Kerry’s gentle snoring that had woken him up, that usually helped him fall asleep.

One of the perks of them both being kind of short and slim, they comfortably fit into a bed made for one person only. As far as he could see, Kerry still wore his dark grey jeans and V’s old smiley-face t-shirt – he usually did when V was gone for a couple of days at a time. His leatherjacket was draped over an armchair nearby and guessing by the soft warm light falling in through half-closed blinds, it probably was the morning after. At least V hoped so, and he hadn’t lost more than half a day unconscious in a hospital bed.

Wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through Kerry’s tousled hair, pull him closer, just hold him, in disbelief still that he was really here and not a drug-induced figment of his imagination, V tried to lift his left arm. But he couldn’t. Despite the painkillers, every little movement hurt, his limbs felt like they were made from concrete. Weakly he laughed to himself when the ironic thought “feel like I was run over by a car” crossed his mind.

Kerry’s eyes fluttered open at V’s croaky laughter breaking the relative silence of the room. The quiet whirring of the medical monitors and machines was barely louder than white noise. He shuffled and looked up at V with great worry at first, but it slowly turned into a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he said, voice still heavy with sleep, scooching even closer so that they were more at eye level. He reached up to gently caress V’s face with the back of his hand, shaking his head just slightly.

“Almost gave me at least three heart attacks yesterday,” he said quietly, his expression growing more somber again.

“Didn’t mean to,” V apologized, his own voice still sounding strange and distant to him. But he truly meant what he said. He hated to see Kerry worry about him, especially over something so stupid.

“I know,” Kerry said, resting his head into the crook of V’s neck, his arm across V’s chest now, holding him close but making sure to not press onto his hurting ribs too forceful, “Fuck… I’m just so glad I didn’t lose you. Dunno know what I’d’ve done.”

V shivered. Clenching his jaw and biting back the pain he reached up to put his right hand on Kerry’s arm draped across his chest, fingers gently massaging and trailing along his tattoo. It had always reminded V of armor in a way, protecting him against a world that had been anything but kind to him for so long. The last thing V wanted was to also make the list of people Kerry had been hurt by.

“I don’t really know anymore what’s going on with me lately,” V blurted out, but that was all he really managed before his throat closed up again, the words he’d seen so clearly in his mind slipping and fading away. Kerry didn’t move away one bit, and V couldn’t see his face, but there was audible concern in his voice.

“You’ve been… weird, yeah,” he said after a couple of seconds, “Preoccupied. Thought it was the stress of… y’know, everything. The bad news from the docs, that big gig, managing the Afterlife, all that?”

“I mean, yeah…” V shrugged. It was true, all that had been stressing him out, on top of it the secrecy, working for Mr. B of all people… But he’d done worse things for Arasaka, been under similar stress then and afterwards, and he’d never felt so out of it at any point in time before.

“But… it’s more than that,” he said slowly, “On some days it’s like I barely recognize myself in the mirror anymore.”

A long pause, just filled with the quiet buzz of the machines, distant voices on the hallway, and the faint roar of an AV’s engine flying by outside.

“Think this is… like, the aftermath of the Relic? Gettin’ worse?” Kerry asked, and it hurt V how frail his voice sounded.

“I mean, could be,” V said, and the thought had certainly crossed his mind, “Like… It was like this before, worse even. A few times I actually saw Johnny in the mirror for a second, not myself. And it was still bad for a few weeks after Mikoshi. But I actually thought it was getting better… For a while at least, Vik doing what he could.”

“Seemed like you were more at ease with it all, yeah,” Kerry mused quietly.

V didn’t even want to think it but… maybe Alt was really right this time. Maybe there was no way out of this. He’d been living on borrowed time ever since he woke up in that landfill. Any semblance of things improving could have been just wishful thinking, all the brain experts poking and prodding him with great interest and enthusiasm creating a false sense of hope that he clung to like a drowning person to a lifebelt.

But Viktor had been underestimating how much time he’d have left, and Alt had been wrong with her first assessment of the situation, too. Even the great fucking Hellmann was surprised at V being the living proof of something he’d deemed impossible. So many smart people, time and time again wrong with their assumptions and estimations as soon as the Relic was on the table. V just didn’t want to believe there was no way out. He wanted to live. Being held close by Kerry like this now more than anything reassured him in this wish. They deserved more time than what had been offered…

But maybe a “happily ever after” just wasn’t written in the stars for V. Hell, did happy endings even exist? V’s last hope was whatever Mr. B and his associates were up to, the people even Johnny Silverhand had warned him to not fuck with. V had seen them literally delete and overwrite other people’s memories, whole personalities, to achieve… what exactly? Turn them into puppets for their own goals, whatever they were? Or just as an experiment to see how far they could take it? Would he end up being something like that for them, too, or would they actually be able and willing to help? Even if he was only a good investment to them, to V it could make a huge difference… Or should he test his luck one more time and not put his fate and trust in their hands, and just… hope for the best and that all of this would somehow resolve itself on his own?

None of his options were appealing, and none seemed any more promising than the other…

“You said you needed to tell me somethin’,” Kerry said after a while, and V was thankful for being pulled out of his dark thoughts, “On voicemail, yesterday. ‘Not over-the-holo stuff’?”

He sighed. All roads seemed to lead to Mr. B, somehow. But before he could say anything, there was a brief knock on the door and a young medtech walked in.

“Ah, you’re up. That’s good!” she said with a bright smile, pressing a few buttons on the control panel by the doorway, and the blinds in front of the large windows slowly opened fully. Kerry reluctantly sat up, stretching briefly and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to somewhat get it back into its usual shape.

“It would have been no issue to get a guest bed in here, Mr. Eurodyne,” the medtech smiled.

“Nah, all good,” he shook his head and waved his left hand, with his right briefly squeezing V’s arm before getting up and making room for the tech to do her thing. V had never liked doctors much, neither hospitals, or anything that fit that overall category.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to have a quick look at your biomon readings and superficial injuries, then I’m outta your face again,” the tech said, “I’m not sure if you remember by the way… We spoke briefly yesterday, but you were a little out of it.”

“Um, no, I don’t, actually,” V confirmed.

“No problem! I’m Jayda,” she said, “Dr. Fuentes is your attending physician, she’ll come in shortly with a few more questions.”

“She’s alright, talked to her yesterday,” Kerry chimed in as he put on his shoes over by the armchair.

“Okay,” V just nodded as Jayda tapped around on her datapad.

“Your cyberdeck and a few of your neural implants got a little bit shaken up from the accident yesterday. Your personal link broke, too, but nothing our techies couldn’t fix. I’m just checking if everything’s in order. Got any visual glitches, something feeling off? How bad is your pain on a scale of zero to ten, and where is it worst?”

She continued with her questions. V answered everything to his best ability but was relieved when she finally left the room again with the promise of breakfast being brought in soon. Kerry had meanwhile settled down on the armchair, leaning forward with his elbows propped up on this thighs and hands loosely folded. His right leg was bouncing slightly, and he looked at V with a light frown.

“So, I guess if the doctor gives her okay you can take me home with ya today,” V said, trying to smile.

“Hm-hm,” Kerry hummed, “And ya better believe I’m gonna make sure you finally rest your ass a bit.”

V chuckled, but instantly regretted it when the pain in his ribs reminded him just how right Kerry was about his demand.

“I actually told Rogue already I’d economize a bit. Not come in for a week or so,” he remembered, “Couldn’t have planned it better, I guess...”

Kerry’s face lit up.

“So… I’ll have you all to myself, until you’re better?”

“Until I’m better,” V said, “And beyond, I hope. What’s the point of workin’ my ass off trying to save my life and then not living it with the people that matter.”

Kerry smiled, but then hesitated, tilting his head.

“Wait so… your super-secret gig… It was actually, literally…”

His expression and voice were a mix of all sorts of emotions, confusion, curiosity, concern… but also a sliver of hope. V almost regretted having said what he did now because he didn’t want to raise any hope where there might be none.

“I… don’t know for sure yet. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he explained, and Kerry slightly slumped back after perking up in careful excitement first.

“But not here,” V decided, half expecting a nurse to come in any moment, “As soon as we’re home.”

“Alright,” Kerry nodded, a little more soberly, but still smiling at him.

Hospital breakfast was, well, hospital breakfast. Not the worst, but also not particularly good.

“With how much you fork out for that Platinum policy you’d expect them to serve ya a full 5-star menu here,” Kerry muttered before he took a sip of V’s coffee, then made a face and put the cup back down, “I’m gonna go for a smoke, and maybe grab some proper coffee from around the corner. Want me to bring you anything? I’ll be quick.”

“I don’t think I have any clothes actually…” V noted as he looked around, and he was dressed in only a hospital shirt. His right hand shot up to his chest, his neck, searching for his necklace, but it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. His pulse sped up, but thankfully, Kerry didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll take ya home naked, too,” he teased instead and kissed V on the cheek as he got up from his chair, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

V chuckled, and ran his fingers through Kerry’s beard, tracing his jawline, trailing down his neck, along his cyberware to his collarbone… he really had to get his act together before he’d pull Kerry down into bed with him again.

“I’ll hurry,” Kerry said quietly, and V couldn’t help but notice the desire in his voice, reflected in reluctant movements, not quite willing to pull away and actually leave him now... So much so, that by the time he’d finally made it to the door, he almost collided with Dr. Fuentes coming in.

“Oh, apologies,” she smiled and stepped to the side to let Kerry pass.

“I’ll be right back!” he called over his shoulder before heading out. The doctor then walked over to V’s bed, and his uneasiness rose again.

“I’m Dr. Fuentes,” she introduced herself, “Very glad to see you up and well, all things considered.”

She held a datapad and linked it up to the monitors beside V’s bed, quickly checking the readings the same way Jayda had done earlier. V couldn’t really guess her age, she looked quite young for a doctor, but the way she moved and spoke made him guess that she was much older than she appeared. Maybe not quite Kerry’s age but seasoned for sure. There was no hint of grey in her dark curls tied back into a ponytail, and she studied the monitors with keen eyes. In the strangest way she reminded him of Takemura, but he wasn’t even sure why that was his first connotation. There was little they had in common, appearance-wise. It was more the energy she gave off, calm and professional outwardly, but something else slumbering beneath the surface.

Dr. Fuentes looked up from her datapad, smiled at V, and then she pulled up a chair and sat down to be more at eye level with him.

“Everything’s looking good, we got your toxicology report as well now, and there is nothing out of the ordinary either,” she said, “Although your liver values aren’t as good as they should be for someone your age. Do you drink regularly?”

“No, I don’t drink. Don’t react well to alcohol,” he said truthfully.

“Hm. Any drugs, strong medications? Some painkillers have a harsh impact on the liver.”

V hesitated, and Dr. Fuentes continued to gently smile, but it somehow made him even more suspicious of her.

“I’m not asking to condemn, just to make sure I have all the information I need to be able to help you,” she said calmly.

V almost wanted to say “I sincerely doubt you’ll be able to help me” but he bit his tongue.

“Can you tell me a little bit more about your condition?” she then asked, catching V off guard, “We did a brain scan yesterday, but what we found did not align with what we expected.”

She turned around her datapad, showing him the results. V looked at the familiar images intensely, trying to make out any differences to the last one that Dr. Williams had done, the head of that team of specialists Kerry had assembled. He didn’t notice any glaring differences, but overall, it still didn’t look good. He didn’t know where he’d even start explaining, or if he even wanted her to know anything about this. All it would lead to was a mountain of uncomfortable questions.

“Mr. Eurodyne said you have consulted with specialists about this already,” Fuentes said, “Neurology is my area of expertise as well. We obviously only have this snapshot of something that seems to have been going on for a while, but to me, it looks like a degenerative disorder of some sort? Resulting from an old injury, Mr. Eurodyne said?”

“That’s partially correct,” V said quietly, “It’s a long, complicated story, and I don’t want to go into details, frankly. Brings up a lot of bad memories.”

He had hoped that that would discourage her enough to let it go.

“I see,” Fuentes said, taking the datapad back, “Do you have any older scans, from when the injury was still fresh, or the time in-between then and now? We don’t have to discuss details or specifics, but if I could get an idea of how this started and progressed, maybe…”

“Let me stop you right here,” V said, much harsher than he’d planned to, but he couldn’t take it back now, “I… appreciate the concern. And what you’ve done for me already. But I’d like to leave it at that and just go home.”

Fuentes looked at him intensely, and yes, this was exactly what reminded him of Takemura about her. There was a fire in her intelligent, foxlike eyes, a sliver of obsession, and determination.

“If that is what you wish I won’t be standing in your way,” she said calmly, but he noted a certain almost challenging undertone, “I’ll prescribe you more painkillers, but everything else should resolve itself on its own. We can remove the cast on your wrist in a week, and at the very least until then, given your condition, I urge you to take it slow and rest.”

She slowly got up from the chair, tapping around on her datapad. It seemed like she was about to turn to leave, but then she hesitated and turned around once more. She wouldn’t just let it go, V hadn’t expected otherwise.

“Promise me to give it another thought,” Fuentes said, “I have been working with patients suffering from MS for years now, and we are working on treatments that are, admittedly, aggressive, but also showing extremely promising results.”

V hummed.

“You’re not by any chance affiliated with BioDyne?” he asked, “I’ve seen their ads. The 700,000-eddies-a-month therapy.”

Fuentes dropped her professional façade for just a second, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment if V had ever seen one. Then she smiled again, regaining her composure.

“I don’t work for BioDyne, no,” she said, “Only for my patients.”

“Either way though,” V said, “I don’t have MS. Actually, I’m pretty damn sure that I’m the only person on the fucking planet who has exactly what I have.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Fuentes said, “The same treatments can sometimes help ease different conditions. Or be repurposed with some adjustments.”

She looked him over intensely once more, then her eyes lit up pale blue as she sent him her contact info, the sight giving V goosebumps for a moment.

“Give it another thought,” she said, “You’re still so young, have your whole life ahead of you. And you seem to have at least one person at your side that cares a lot for your wellbeing. Talk it over with him, and give me a call when you’re ready. Jayda will be back shortly with your discharge papers and personal belongings.”

With that she turned around and left the room. V sighed and slumped back against his pillow, coffee and breakfast leftovers on his tray long cold by now. He was tired of thinking about the rest of his life, being told that he had “so much to live for”. Not that the people saying that were wrong. He had Kerry, Nibbles, a job he was really fucking good at, that allowed him freedoms and possibilities he wouldn’t have dared to dream of ten years ago. He had made a lot of good friends over the course of the last months, since all of this had started. Real friends that actually cared about him, that didn’t just see him as a pawn in their games. Up until then it had only been Jackie who liked him genuinely as a person, not just as an asset, and after he’d lost him, V had been more than ready to just die. At that time everything he’d still cared about had died with Jackie.

But he was no longer ready to die. Regardless, being told over and over again how much he had to lose made the stress to find a way to survive almost unbearable. As if he didn’t know he was too young to die, too genuinely happy for the first time in his life to let it all fade away together with his mind and body. To have Kerry take care of him as soon as he couldn’t do it himself anymore, to watch part of him die along with himself as things proceeded to get worse.

V closed his eyes and started counting the seconds until he’d finally get out of this hospital, breathe some real air again, and clear his head.

Kerry came back before Jayda did, with some clothes for V, “real” coffee, and donuts. Then Jayda appeared with the discharge documents on her datapad that V signed promptly, as well as a plastic bag with his cut-up clothes and other belongings. She unhooked him from all the machines, and as soon as she was out the door he opened the bag, almost frantically looking through it for his bullet amulet. He found it wrapped up in the remains of his shirt, took it out with a sigh of relief and put it back on.

“I think I’d gone nuts if I’d lost that somewhere,” he said shaking his head, still holding the cold metal pendant in his right hand, the bullet that took his old and in in a way gave him his new life sharp and rough against his palm.

“I almost hoped they’d lost it, 'cause you'd never leave the house without your lucky charm,” Kerry teased, sitting at the edge of his bed again. He was still in his same clothes, hair still unkempt. He must’ve really just breezed home and past the nearest Caliente’s to be back as quickly as he was. V gently kicked Kerry’s ass, but he probably hurt himself more with his abrupt movement than the other way around.

“Serves ya right,” Kerry laughed as V groaned in pain and got up, “Need some help gettin’ dressed?”

“If you’re as good as dressing me as you’re with undressing me, I won’t say no,” V joked, flinching and hissing as he tried to get out of bed, body sore all over. Before his feet even touched the ground Kerry was at his side, holding his hand and helping him up. He smiled at V still, but like so often lately, his smile only covered up his pain and sadness about everything, wasn’t as genuine as it used to be. He knew there was no point in dwelling in the past, but in moments like this he wished he could turn back time. He’d lost count of how often he’d wondered if things were different now – and in how far – if he'd given in and taken Hanako’s offer instead of bringing the fight to Arasaka. He hoped that, at the latest three months from now, he wouldn’t wonder the same thing about Dr. Fuentes’ offer eventually.

>> Next Chapter

[longagoitwastuesday]

Going through the Utahim.e tag had me checking several times if at some point I had clicked on the G.ojo/Utahim.e one instead

[juwhite]

You are an angel, my angel, my prince, my everything

You make me feel so good, so loved... I hope I make you feel this way too!

Sometimes I think you're annoyed by me, or losing interest, but... You already showed and said to me that you aren't, and you let me talk about every little thing I want...

I love you so much!! So, so much... You are my reason to smile, the reason my life isn't so monotonous, my reason to wake up

You are my everything.

I hope I am to you too!

Sorry if I'm bad at showing emotions... Or you only see me show while reciprocating yours, I appreciate you very, very much!

@yeye-hiro