#yes maybe idk tho

[cherubshert]

Jungwon laughs lovingly at you as he closes your room's window, your body curled up under a pile of blankets, over your thick hoodie, and despite that you're still shivering. "Did you buy something warm?" you ask with a very stuffy voice, your cheeks puffed as you look up at him. He brushes your warm cheeks with his cold hand as he nods.

He places a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, settling beside you on your bed. You take a sip humming with satisfaction, "Sorry I couldn't get the door." he leans closer, resting his head on your shoulder, "It's ok." he smiles, poking your cheeks, "sick lil angel."

"It's your fault I'm sick" you pout, jokingly turning your head to bite his finger, "Ni-ki's fault, i told you it was a dumb idea to swim in a half frozen pool in the middle of winter."

"He called me a chicken." you retort, "And you're older and should know better." you roll your eyes, taking another sip of your drink. "Is he sick too?" he nods, snickering, you huff with satisfaction, leaning your head on his.

"It's your fault too, you're supposed to be the angel on my shoulder." "I told you not to do it." "Should have tried harder to stop me."

You sneeze, and he giggles, poking your sensitive nose. "You look so cute right now." you attempt to swat him off, but he grabs your hand, pulling you close till his nose brushes yours.

"You'll get sick." he tilts his head, pecking your lips, his eyes raising to meet yours. " I don't mind." he tugs at your covers, shifting till he sat close to you, covering your bodies again. "We could have a sick date."

You scrunch your nose at the thought, taking another sip of your hot chocolate, "ew"

[mohntilyet]

about illario working with the venatori, we can't forget that elgar'nan gifted him blood magic, so I do think that he somewhat influenced him and that's why he's so much more vindictive and jealous in comparison to tevinter nights. I don't mean that he's being mind controlled, but it's a bit like cyrian, a god just amplifying those negative emotions in you and promising power and glory can push a person to that edge and to make stupid af decisions.

im also not forgetting that zara line in inner demons where she talks about an envy demon. like. why an envy demon in specific...there's THINGS between zara and illario that were not shown

no literally if you get me talking about illario + envy + the possibility of getting him possessed, you will have me here for fucking ever. a non mage doing blood magic (any magic at all) is really weird and interesting to me and i don’t remember an example of this happening before (feel free to correct me tho lol. i’m discounting possessions and dwarves)

i had started wildly theorising after bloodbath that he had been possessed and he was tapping into the fade using an envy demon. especially like you said, zara mentions it, AND because i swear there’s a codex in the ossuary where it mentions an envy demon whereas spite is obviously determination, right? so i thought it was a breadcrumb trail to a big “illario is being influenced and doesn’t even know” reveal— same as you anon like great minds am i right— but i’m not sure there is actually any evidence of that lol. like maybe if you squint but i do believe it was explained away by “oh yeah, and elgarnan let him do special blood magic”

it does also make sense to me that illario can only control lucanis, due to being part of the same family. a bloodline thing, and it is very poetic to me that their shared family connection in caterina is what allows him to control lucanis, even for a moment lol. spite being the extra magical boost that lucanis needs to block that out ALSO makes sense to me so i’m not too fussed abt these details lol🤔

the envyllario in my heart also gets spectral weapons for himself. lucanis gets wings, illario gets talons, PLUS green-purple are complementary colors so it would have been really fun to see them clash with their spirit/demon-powers. the talon thing is also a kind of reflection of his end-goal desire, how envy demons already have those freaky hands, and it manifests as claws and is a much more aggressive, strength-augmenting manifestation (as opposed to manoeuvrability and speed-augmenting that spite’s wings give lucanis.) anyways that's what the diagram above is supposed to be (this is extremely hot to me)

[alicentsgf]

And if i said i love the hbo Hightower’s Irish catholic vibe but i wish they were a bit more Italian about it, what then? like please they live in a port city in a big fuckass dramatic white tower with streets full of holy men/women and scholars and people come from all over the world to explore this hub of arts and sciences and religion and damn you know what else there are so many beautiful flowers the air smells like perfume. Sorry but Oldtown is so Florence-coded these bitches are Mediterranean let them wear some gaudy outfits and have a parade

[kenchann]

some twst doodles ...( ￣０￣)ノ

[pixlokita]

Aight 😔

[saudrag]

idk something something about hughie being butcher’s most loyal pet just scrubs me right…

[camellcat]

school hard is my most rewatched episode by a mile and it always makes me forget how the fuck sprusilla could ever possibly break up. they're SO good they're perfect to me here. despite the fact dru clearly isn't doing well they still feel like equals. spike is choosing to take care of her because he loves her, he adores her, and it shows. dru loves his attentions and loves giving them right back as best she can

and hey I see the spuffy even this early on and I love the spuffy.... but without dru?? ur telling me dru leaves later??? there'll be no dru???? that's just wrong

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚈'𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠…𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛. ~

��👻🩵👻💙👻🩵

(𝙰𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚝 𝙶𝚋𝚘𝚢𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝚘𝚗 𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝𝙰𝚛𝚝)

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟸: 𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 (𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 💗)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟼𝟷𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢🩵

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕…𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 (𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎’𝚜) 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘…𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽���!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 ☺️🫶🏾!!

𝙸.𝙸. (𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾): 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚎 = 𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗, 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚑𝚎𝚖 = 𝙻𝚎𝚘!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢😙🩷🙌🏾˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Yeesh…you have a deeper Raph chasm than Raph himself…” The red eared slider lightly joked as he caught a glimpse of his smaller counterpart. 

The younger counterpart in question didn’t even seem…remotely phased by the remark, looking over the city of NYC like it was going to be his last time doing so. 

But the smaller turtle felt like he was being slightly watched…(which, he in fact was) he then looked up and locked eyes with his older counterpart. “…Huh? W-Were you talking to me?”

“Nope. I was just talking to my imaginary friend Mr. Snoozle— of course I was talking to you.” Leon said sarcastically, raising an eye ridge at the other teen. 

Leo blushed slightly at the elder’s sarcasm, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “Sorry…I-I was spacing out…I do that a lot.”

“Yeah…no kidding. I’ve been talking to you for the past ten minutes and all I’ve gotten from you were six 'mhm’s', three 'yup’s' and seven 'dang that’s crazy's'.” The older one snorted, “If I didn’t know any better, it seems like you don’t wanna talk to me.”

“No! I-It’s not that!” The smaller turtle immediately protested, fiddling nervously with his fingers as he gazed at the streets of NYC once more. 

Which…was really the only thing he could do right at this moment. 

Besides…the city always looked so…pretty in the evenings. 

Well, if there wasn’t crime happening…

…Which was, like, a good 40-50% of the time but still.

“So…what is it, then? Why did you take me to a random rooftop in the smack middle of NY? 'Cuz, no offense…but I was having a nice first place winning streak in Fashion Famous before all of this.” The taller turtle said.

The honey brown teen raised a doubtful brow, “…You play Fashion Famous?”

“Psh…who doesn’t?” Leon scoffed, “But that’s a question worth discussing for another day…” He said as he leaned his shell against the rooftop guardrail as he looked up at the afternoon soon to turn to evening sky, “So tell me..what’s going on, dude?”

“…I…I needed to talk to you…” Leo mumbled. 

“I…can see that.” The elder giggled, “But, what did you wanna talk about?”

The younger fiddled with his fingers nervously again, picking at his thumb’s hang nail slightly as he avoided the other’s gaze entirely now, “…How…H-How do I become a good leader…?” 

Leon blinked in confusion, darting his eyes around the rooftop looking for someone else before letting out a humorless laugh, “Uhuh…whahahat?”

“I-I said…how do I become a good leader…?” Leo repeated, a bit quieter this time.

“…You’re asking me that?” The slider asked incrediously.

“Yes…!” Leo emphasized, getting off of the rail to look at the taller turtle, “How do I—”

“U-Uh…this is…flattering and all, b-but I reheally think you should talk to my Raph about…that.” The red eared slider interrupted, rubbing his arm anxiously and tensing up a bit as the other mutant looked at him with confusion and distraught.

“What? Why!?” Leo asked, getting up from the ledge to look fully at his older counterpart.

“Well, I’m not the oldest turtle in the family like you. I’m the second youngest. Raphalla has more experience, more wisdom and aaaaall that good stuff.” The lime green eyed turtle said as he grimaced awkwardly, picking at a hangnail as well.

Great minds think alike, I suppose…

The honey brown eyed mutant blinked, “I…so? Your still the leader of your team—“

“Welp…this conversation has been fun but I gotta go—”

“But—”

“I have a toooooon of stuff to do now that I think about it…”

“B-But I—”

“And besides, I’m sure your leadership skills aren’t as bad as you think they are—”

“PLEASE!!” The younger shouted as the older tried to leave, making the other flinch slightly at the sudden and random yell, “…Please. J-Just a small piece of advice! A-A hint…! Anything!” 

The taller mutant sighed inwardly, turning around as he crossed his arms— not in a malicious way…but it was really the only form of body langauge he could do at the moment other than picking more at his skin…

…Which, he promised Donnie he would try to stop doing…

“…Why do you want my input so bad…?” The lime green eyed teen asked, mentally cringing at how weak and fragile he sounded.

“I…I don’t know.” The younger mumbled quietly as he sat down against the ledge on the building, hugging his knees to his chest, “I just…figured you would know some stuff…”

“Some…stuff?” The other pressed.

Leo rolled his eyes, “You know what I’m taking about; being a good leader and all that shit!” 

“Pfft— HAH! Trust me, dude…I’m just as lost as you are with this whole 'being a good leader' thing.” Leon chuckled, sitting down next to his counterpart.

“…What are you talking about?” 

“I just became a leader, like…two-ish weeks ago? I dunno…the past weeks have been a complete blur.” The red eared slider explained, holding in an amused snort as he saw how genuinely shocked the other turtle was by his new lore drop. 

“My Raph was originally the leader of the team but after my family defeated the Shredder…my Dad was just all like: 'Blue, you’re the new leader now' and the rest was history…” 

“…Just like that?” The honey brown eyed teenager asked in pure surprise. 

“Just like that.” Leon confirmed. 

“Well, fuck me, then…” The smaller teen grumbled in defeat, burying his face in his knees as the other let out the amused snort he’s been holding in, “I’m good, thanks.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The younger grumbled at the older’s immaturity. 

…He needs to make a mental note to himself to never let his own Mikey and Leon be in the same room with one another…

“I personally think you have nothing to worry about, though. You seem like you’re doing a pretty good job—” Leon tried to say. 

“But I’m not!” Leo exclaimed as he interrupted the older, mentally punching himself for making a loud outburst again, “I-I’m…not…”

“My brother’s don’t listen to me.” The smaller teen explained, his voice either demonstrating frustration or self-depreciation…

…Leon couldn’t tell.

“They always assume I want to be bossy or I want to be controlling but in reality I just wanna protect them!” The honey brown eyed turtle seethed, “I-I just want to be there for them a-and help!!! I knowthat we’re all the same age and I guess it seems like I’m babying them but I kinda have to because they aren’t responsible! They wouldn’t know responsibility if it walked up to them and punched them straight in the face!!”

The lime green eyed mutant rubbed his arm, tapping his fingers on his knees to try and calm himself down; getting overwhelmed was not a good look on him. 

Plus, it clashed with his autumn shade. 

“…Just, uh…trust yourself…?” The elder tried. 

“But I don’t!” The younger shouted, “I’ve tried and tried and tried to lead but they just. don’t. listen! I-I can’t lead people who don’t want to be lead!” 

“…Your Dad picked you to be the leader for a reason—”

“Well I don’t even know what that damn reason is! ” Leo seethed, burying his face into his arms, “My brother’s want Raph to lead…they don’t want…me. They want someone collective and strong and dependent as their leader; someone who they can be relient on…s-someone who they can trust…”

The smaller mutant let out a wet scoff, looking to the side of himself, “…I’m none of those things…” 

Almost on cue to the emotional moment, Leon slapped his younger counterpart upside on the head…hard. 

Leo let out a small squawk, rubbing the back of his head as he glared at the other. 

“What the freaking hell was that for?!” Leo seethed. 

“For saying a bunch of dumb shit!” The older seethed back, “Y'know that’s my job, right?” He said as he crossed his arms, glancing straight ahead as he saw the sun peeking out from behind a building….

…It was honestly giving the Attack on Titan intro and Leo wasn’t complaining one bit.

“Look…I’m not going to lie to you; being the leader isn’t easy.” The lime green eyed teen exclaimed knowingly. 

“Gee, I wonder what gave you that idea.” The other grumbled under his breath. 

“Just let me cook!”

“Well, right now you’re burning.”

Leon just rolled his eyes at the smaller’s sassy remark, continuing, “I get it, okay…? Being the leader is…challenging. Especially when you know the people your supposed to be leading don’t…want your leadership— or at the very least aren’t used to it.”

The lime green eyed teenager got up, brushing his legs off as he looked over the building’s rail, seeming like he was…trying to remember something, “It’s…a lot. Your still a kid but you’re literally forced to manage all of these responsibilities and high expectations everyone has for you…”

The older sighed, playing with his mask tails as he glanced at the ground, wishing it had an answer to his and Leo’s predicament, “A-And you don’t…you don’t know what those expectations are…” 

The taller mutant sighed, looking back at his younger counterpart, “But you just…gotta keep going…y’know? Your Dad picked you to be leader for a reason, I’m sure.” Leon assured. 

“But my brother’s—”

“'Want Raph?'” The red eared slider said, “Wehell, you aren’t Raph, now are you?”

“…no.”

“Exactly. So stop trying to compare. You’re Leonardo. Lead how Leonardo would lead.” The elder smiled softly.

God, he sounded so freaking…wise right now!!!

“But…I don’t know how Leonardo leads…that’s why I’m asking you…!!” The younger said. 

Leon snorted, “You gotta figure it out, then! Only you can determine how Leonardo leads. Yes…we’re both Leo’s in a sense but we’re different people…you feel me?”

“I…I-I feel you.” The honey brown eyed teen nodded slightly, “I just…I just don’t wanna mess anything up, I guess…”

“Hate to break it to you…but you 100% will. That’s the great thing about being, well…you. I don’t need to be an alternate version of you to know you fuck things up constantly.” The older Leonardo joked lightly, his soft smile turning to a smug grin as he saw how appalled his younger self got at the comment. 

“And you’re going to fuck up a lot of things when you’re leading your brothers…I’d be lying if I said you wouldn’t. But…overtime you’ll get better…you won’t be perfect…but you’ll get better.” The elder announced, looking over his shoulder to lock eye’s with Leo, “And sooner or later your younger brother’s will learn to trust you to lead them…but you have to trust yourself first.” 

Leo’s eyes widened slightly, looking back at his older self with nothing but…respect and compassionnow. 

His advice actually made…sense. Which is an actual shock because all the things he usually says is just plain old gibberish. 

“So, you gonna pay me?” Leon asked as he sat back down. 

“Huh?” The younger said as he tilted his head in confusion. 

“I said: Are you gonna pay me?” The older asked again, “Advice doesn’t come for free, y'know.” And in a result to the random question and statement, Leo scratched the side of his head, glancing away nervously, “I mean…I have some Jolly Rancher wrappers in my pocket if you’d like that.” 

The older Leonardo raised an unamused brow, biting back a genuine smile at the younger’s attempted transaction. 

“…I’ll…take that as a maybe…?” The shorter mutant quietly guessed. 

“I’ll pass…but I appreciate the offer.” The red eared slider laughed, wrapping his younger counterpart in a hug as he rested his hand on his side, squeezing it comfortingly, “With you and me as our brother’s leaders…there’s absolutely nothing we can’t solve!” 

The older mutant faltered, scratching his chin in sudden realization, “Besides girls…I still haven’t decoded them yet.” 

Leo randomly let out a laugh at the joke, shaking his head as a couple snorts and squeals followed. 

The older Leo raised an amused brow, chuckling lightly at the other’s giggle fit, “Ohoookay…it was never that fuhunny.” 

“Ihi nehehever sahaid ihat— snrt! Yohour hahahand!!!” The younger Leonardo squeaked, holding the other’s wrists loosely. “Oh.” The lime green eyed teenager hummed, his amused eyeridge raise now becoming…smug, “You don’t happen to be…ticklish, do you?” 

The smaller mutant gulped as his counterpart muttered out…the word; and so casually too?!

“N-Noho! N-Nohoh I’m nohot!” The honey brown eyed turtle squeaked out despretley, letting out a city-wide squeal as Leon pinched his hips with his free hand whilst still trapping/wrapping him in a hug. “Really? Well, last I checked, people who 'aren’t ticklish' don’t usually squeal when their hips are squeezed, bud.”  

“Ihihat’s— snrt! Juhuhust stahap!!” 

“If my memory serves me correctly, you said you 'weren’t ticklish', right?” The elder said as he wiggled his free hand near the other’s stomach. 

Which, in fact, was enough to keep the other boy completely howling with laughter. 

Leo screamed, twisting and turning to try and steer away from the tortuous fingers, “N-NohO nohOHO snrt WAHAIT-!!!” 

“Soooo…you obviously don’t mind this, right?” Leon smirked as he used his left hand to scribble around the smaller turtle’s tummy while his right hand wrapped around his shell and tickled his underarm. “IHI MIHIHIND! IHI snrt MIHIHIND snrt AHA LAHAHAT!” The younger mutant squeaked out in panic, flailing and shouting about. 

“But why~? You’re obviously not ticklish.” The red eared slider shrugged casually. 

“IHI SNRT SNRT AHAM!!” The smaller mutant suddenly confessed, pushing on the taller’s chest, “IHI AHAM SNRT  IHIHI AHAM SNRT SNRT IHI SNRT AHAHAM!!” 

“Oh! So…you lied to me?” The older mutant questioned as he clamped Leo’s thigh repetitively.

The complete audacity of this kid…

It was impressive, honestly…

Leo hiccuped, burying his head in the elder’s shoulder, “NOHO! IHI— snrt! GYAHAHA PLEHEHEASE!!” 

“Noho! You lied to me, you little twerp! Ugh…the betrayal! And here I thought we were having a nice little bonding moment!” The red eared slider cried dramatically as he stuffed his hands in Leo’s underarms.

The younger Leonardo loudly squawked, snorting up a storm as the elder continued to relentlessly tickle him to pieces, “L-LEHEEEEEEEHEON!!”

“Hm~? Yeah~? What is it, bud?”

“PLEHEHEASE!! NAHAT SNRT SNRT THAHAT!!!” The honey brown eyed mutant squealed, his yell bouncing off the walls of the buildings of New York. “Why~? Is it your tickle spot~? Your tickle tickletickle spot~? 'Cuz your tickle tickle ticklish~?”

“SHUHUT UHUHUP!!” The smaller turtle howled as Leon scribbled his nails along the other’s plastron patterns, “OHO MY GAHASH YOHOUR SOOHOH MEAN!!!”

“Mean?” The lime green eyed teenager repeated innocently, “I’m not mean~! I’m just asking you a couple questions.” 

“I-IHIHI CAHANT SNRT SNRT SNRT BREATHE!!” 

“That sounds like a yohou problem, but hey! That’s just me…” 

“OKAHAY!!!” The younger wheezed, happy tears pricking out of his eyes; awaiting to fall, “STOHOP! STOHOHAP!!” 

“Stopping stopping…” The elder teenager giggled, doing as he promised and stopping. He wrapped his younger counterpart in a hug, letting the shorter turtle snort and snicker in his shoulder once more, “You got this…okay?” He assured. 

“W-Whahat…? Whahat snrt snrt doohoo I snrt hahahave??” Leo questioned through his giddy laughs which Leon couldn’t help but huff fondly to, “The…Thehe leading thing, dude. You got it, okay? Just remember what I said and you’ll be fine.” 

“I dohon’t eheheven remember whahat yohou said toohoo beehee honest..” 

“I can tickle you again to help you remember—“

“N-NONOHO IHIHI’M GOOD!” Leo emphasized, hugging his middles and burying his head into Leon’s shoulder deeper. The elder just hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of the younger’s head.

The two didn’t know a thing when it came to leading…

But they were going to try…they were going to try leading…

…Because that’s really all anyone could ask for…

Their best. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[libakarm]

[shima-draws]

Watched the MLB movie and I just. I WANT to gush about it but the fact that Marinette’s regular voice actor and her singing voice actor sound SO different just took me out of it every time and left me feeling very disengaged;; At least Adrien’s singing voice kind of sounds like his speaking voice (and Gabriel’s is 👌 bc my king Keith Silverstein can actually sing and he can sing REALLY fucking well) but Marinette’s. The voices are COMPLETELY different and it threw me off every single time. Like obviously her singing voice is really good and I understand why they picked that person to do her songs but bro you could have at least TRIED to get someone that sounds similar to Cristina Vee. It drove me nuts every time she sang bc I was like “That is CLEARLY a different person entirely!!”

I’m realizing this might have been a dubbing issue but still 😭 I feel like I would have enjoyed the movie way more if it didn’t look like Marinette was lip syncing the entire time bc there was such a huge disconnect between her speaking and singing voice

[tojiscrack]

to my all little liars!! (edit: wtf happened to my english? 😭)

we’re at 24.6k words rn 😟 if you plan on reading it next week, i recommend you read it on the weekends when there’s no school or work for you waiting in the morning 😀

calling in the troops rn ‘cause there’s still one final scene i have to write and it’s gonna be LONG (this isn’t including the bonus scene btw) but it’s extremely important for the story to continue, and without it, the rest of the story literally cannot go on 😭

we’re locking in guys. it’s 100% gonna border 30k words for sureee. sm has happened in that ONE chapter and i literally cannot wait to release it for all of you, you have no ideaaa

gonna go to bed and then wake up, study, break, write for the fic, repeat. had to randomly drop an update here cuz i’ve been edging you guys for so long i’m sorryyy, but it really is nearly here <333

edit: fck it guys i’m writing it rn (the immediate comments got me motivated)

[astrobei]

for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others. 

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles  the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket. 

Will’s flashlight sputters again. 

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight. 

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him. 

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding. 

God. He’s so screwed.  “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this. 

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

ok 1 more oliver day thing. i thought this joke would be kinda funny

[mcytegg]

if team Guardians actually wanted to be a threat, and for bans to be meaningful, theyd lock tf in and grind out echo shards in every ancient city when the border expands so they can have the monopoly on revive beacons.

[the-oa]

Celeste!!! Celeste!!!! We love you Celeste!!!!! <3<3<3

[firstofficerkittycat]

ten thousand years cloud perchance. u look a bit fuct mate