#oh this is incredibly self-indulgent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tunastime · 1 month

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do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside.

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table.

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands.

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet.

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand.

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times.

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright.

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns.

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again.

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up.

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides.

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him.

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky.

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face.

“Doc?” he asks.

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter.

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room.

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces.

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

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stainedglass-sketchbook · 20 days

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FINALLY finished these drawings of @meanbossart's DUdrow and my durge vaye (smashing them together like barbie dolls <3).

BTW this is all I can think about when I see fanart of DUdrow wrestling other tavs:

#baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #du drow #durge vaye #bg3 durge #myart #all drow durges have to wrestle in the pit #thems the rules #this has been sitting in my drafts for an age oh my god #be free incredibly self indulgent art be free

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bee-snail · 6 days

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MY BELOVED yes I am aware his antlers do not line up. Counterpoint: he was SO fun to draw regardless. Maybe I'll make lore out of it and make it so he can change the antlers at will! Who knows!

Seven David is my favorite guy ever !!! In short, he was murdered by Cameron when he was just a little kid, but was revived by the massive amalgamation of souls, stuck together in a Hivemind-like entity, of Sleepy Peak — which they creatively named "The Forest" — as their vessel in the physical world. A guardian, one could say. He repressed that entire experience and lived on, catching the eye of one Cameron Campbell (who was, obviously, pretty shocked when he saw the kid he definitely killed just... walk out of the woods like nothing happened) and eventually becoming a camp counselor.

Quartermaster always looked out for him! Even if he wasn't exactly,,, a caretaker kind of person.

He awakened his powers when his campers were in grave danger. And tada! Now he's a Forest Guardian™ and he's the coolest forever (<- Got tired of lore, now I'm just yapping HAHEHRHE)

The double eyes and the funky nose shape is actually there because once he finally connected with the Hivemind, he could bond with Jasper again !!! And now they're together: mentally, psychologically and more-or-less physically as well. I love them!

Oh! Here's another doodle I have of him. The halo? Oh, don't worry about that. :]

Little guy... I love you little guy (<- he can destroy the Earth if he really wants to)

Bonus: COVER THEM UP SLUT /ref

#once upon a time #he was just a normal guy #and then he became a huge deer with incredibly OP powers #oh how I love my self indulgent little AUs #mwah mwah #HEHEHHEEE #camp camp #camp camp fanart #camp camp au #cc david #camp camp david #bee's art #my art

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green-crocs12 · 1 month

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for context, obito lives after kannabi bridge mission au and kakashis left the team to join anbu (it’s been around 2 years since they’ve properly talked to the guy)

little bonus scene + the sketch :)

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

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Watcher’s Nest Café

Chapter 2

summary:

The man came back.

The man walks into the café the next morning, smiling cheerily as the bell twinkles merrily above the door, announcing his arrival. He is far too happy for a man whose stolen fiver is still sitting in the tip jar.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(2,484 words)

The man came back.

Cleo is alone this morning. Pixl’s in some early morning class that he complains about every time he has to go to it. Scott isn't sure why he complains, because he distinctly remembers Pixl choosing that class specifically because it was early in the morning so it would ‘get it out of the way’ for the rest of the day. He’s actually pretty sure Pixl has done this every single year he’s been at university.

Cleo being alone does not mean she is any less of a menace to him. Even worse is that Pearl is here today rather than Jimmy, meaning they're attempting to make his life more of a living hell than it usually is.

“Good morning,” Pearl chirps, leaning against the counter, “what can we get started for you?”

Cleo is staring at him from the bar counter, their eyes attempting to bore into the side of his head with the intensity of their stare. He does his best to ignore them- looking in their direction will only encourage them in the future and he does not want this to turn into a repeating incident.

“Just a latte, please.” The man holds just his card in his hand this time, wallet tucked securely away somewhere else. Pity, Scott had almost been tempted to see if he could steal something else from him.

“That’ll be three-fifty.” The man taps his card against the machine, all three of them waiting in silence before it beeps.

Scott works on the coffee slowly, dragging himself through the familiar motions. He could do this in his sleep at this point, really- and probably a good thing he can because he feels as though he’s going to keel over any moment now. The morning has been slow too, meaning there’s been no adrenaline kick to wake him up properly and he’s left feeling like he’s swimming through molasses to get anything done.

He sets the coffee in front of the man, who has chosen to wait beside the counter rather than sit somewhere else, resting his hip against the counter. He doesn't look at Scott as he sets the drink down, eyes instead focused on Pearl, squinted slightly, as though he’s trying to think of something.

Scott clears his throat, and the man jumps, hand pressed to his chest. “Geez, man, give a guy a little warning, huh?”

“Your drink is ready.” He gestures towards the drink, nudging it a little closer to the man.

“Ah, yeah, thanks.” The man still seems a little distracted. He’s not looking at Scott and when he turns to find where the man’s gaze has wandered, he finds it fixed on Pearl again, watching her as she cleans the coffee machine.

“Hey,” he drags the man’s attention back to him. “Prefer it if you didn't stare at my co-workers like that, hm?” Pearl’s looking now, one hand still resting against the coffee machine as she watches them. Cleo’s watching too, though it seems less so in concern and more because she wants to be able to recount this to Pixl word-for-word.

“Oh, sorry,” the man laughs, finally picking his drink up. “I just, do I know you from somewhere?” He directs the last bit at Pearl, voice lilting up a little at the end. “I just feel like I've seen you before, but I can't put my finger on it.”

“Really? Can't say I recognise you.” Cleo snickers, glancing between Pearl and their mystery man.

“No, no, definitely someone I've met before. Not many people with an Australian accent out here- where did you go to school?”

Pearl pulls a face at his question. “Don't think you should be asking a random barista that.”

“Ugh, yeah, sorry.” The man winces, like, a full-body wince that Scott has only seen from Jimmy before. “That’s kinda weird, lemme rephrase that: did you go to the Evolutionary Belief Primary?”

“Evo?” Pearl cocks her head to the side, “Didn't think anyone still knew about that.”

Scott has heard many stories about Pearl’s primary school- both Jimmy and Pearl’s primary school. Mainly stories about what a hellhole it was, and how odd a lot of the teachers had been. Last time it got mentioned was when Pearl and Jimmy were talking about it being shut down, though neither of them could figure out what it was for, only that it managed to get into the national news.

“You do know it!” Scott is simply glad that there are no other patrons currently in the café because this man is going to scare everyone away at this rate- seriously, has he ever interacted with people before? “Man, I knew I wasn't going mad- I went there too, knew I recognised you.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott nods along. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

“I- yeah, I guess?” The man looks at him as though he’s only just remembered he’s here. He’s tempted to give him a little wave before sending him on his way, but resists. “Oh my god!” Scott winces away from him, fins flattening to the sides of his head at the man’s outburst. “You were the girl that climbed the trees to read her books!”

“That was me.” Pearl looks at him from the corner of her eye before she looks back at the man. “Weren't you the kid that always snitched on me when I did it?”

The man laughs, leaning back on the counter and setting his drink down. He looks a little red. “Yeah, uh, that was me. It was Pearl, right?”

“Yep!” Pearl rocks back and forth on her feet a little. “Don't remember your name, though.”

“Martyn,” the man, Martyn apparently, grins. His drink is going cold, which is his problem rather than Scott’s. He hopes he has to drink cold coffee. Maybe he’ll stick around and let Scott witness him drinking the cold coffee. That would make everything happening right now worth it. “I'm pretty sure you threw a book at me once.”

“Oh, yeah!” Pearl giggles, making her way over to the counter, nudging her way in beside him. He shuffles to the side, making room for her. He leans a little more of his weight on the counter, easing the weight from his leg- the cold weather certainly isn't helping, and neither is the recent insomnia. “It was a hardback, right? I think some of your blood is still on it.”

“That’s weird, Pearl.”

“Aw, Scott, I've seen your apartment. You have some freaky stuff in there.”

“A mannequin is not freaky.” His mannequin is perfectly respectable, even if she hasn't been used in several years. He doesn't have the heart to throw her away- not after they've been through so much together. “You're just weird about her.”

“She’s stitched together.”

“We’ve had a few accidents over the years,” he shrugs, “she’s old, and I didn't want to buy a new one. She still works perfectly fine.”

“No, Scott, I'm on Pearl’s side with this one.” Cleo points at him with her spoon, nodding sagely. “She looks like Frankenstein’s monster.”

“She’s hardly going to come alive.” He sighs, pushing back off of the counter. “You're just overly dramatic about her.” As no one else seems inclined to do any work around here he grabs the anti-bac from beneath the counter, peering around for a cloth before he manages to find one trailing halfway out of a drawer.

“I swear she moved, once.” Pearl whispers to Martyn, leaning against the counter. He can't tell if she meant for him to hear her or not, so chooses to ignore her either way. The mannequin doesn't even have arms, so he’s not sure how Pearl saw her move.

“So, you a fashion student?” Martyn says, and it takes Scott several moments to realise he’s being spoken to.

“Not anymore.” He continues cleaning the table in the furthest corner- they always manage to forget about it during their rush hours, so he may as well clean it now rather than leave it to gather dust. The leather of his gloves creaks as he grips the cloth a little tighter, swiping it back and forth a few more times. It does nothing but make the table shine a little more- it hadn't even been truly dusty, but something about the man - Martyn - makes Scott nervous.

Silence echoes in the shop for several long moments after that and he continues to clean the tables. He doesn't want to turn around and find all three of them looking at him- he’s glad, now, that this man didn't show up while they were busy. Or maybe he should have hoped that the man did show up when they were busy? He probably wouldn't have stuck around for a chat then, and Scott can't exactly kick him out when he’s done nothing wrong, he’s not even asked about the five-pound note he’s definitely realised is missing by now.

“Hey, Martyn,” Pearl breaks the silence. “Weren't you friends with Jimmy?” It’s a very obvious way to break the awkward silence that had settled over them, but it works anyway, Martyn perking up again as Pearl begins to regale him with the story of the Sheriff Incident.

“Pearl,” Jimmy stares at Pearl, aghast. Tango snickers beside him. “No, please, tell me you didn't.”

“He asked.”

“No he didn't,” Scott brushes past Pearl, on his way to deliver two hot chocolates to the table beside the door. “You offered the information freely.”

“Scott!” Pearl protests. “He didn't need to know that!”

“You didn't need to tell him about that,” Jimmy slumps over the counter, head pillowed in his hands. Tango pats him on the shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not the worst thing she could have told him,” Tango attempts.

“Oh yeah?” Scott steps back behind the counter, casting Jimmy’s slumped over form an amused look. His voice is slightly muffled. “What else could she have told him? What could have been worse than that?”

“She could have told him about the fallout from that incident, you know, with the toys-”

“Don't.”

Scott wonders, briefly, whether to tell Jimmy that the man they are currently talking about is still here, sitting in the back corner with a thick textbook and a vaguely stressed look on his face. He’s not sure what he’s studying, but he’s heard enough about the upcoming exams that everyone has that he can probably make a guess to why he’s stressed.

The textbook looks thick enough to be a medicine textbook, but the guy also doesn't give off med student vibes. He’s far too cheerful and awake for that- most of their med students ignore whatever medical advice there is on caffeine intake. Scott normally lies to them about how many shots he puts in their drinks (seriously, he’s not looking for a murder charge, alright?) and just hands it over. It’d do med students some good to get some sleep every once in a while.

So, definitely not a med student, even though the textbook looks heavy enough to kill a man.

He takes the ticket Pearl hands to him, eyes still fixed on the man tucked away in the corner of the shop- it’s normally so easy to overlook that table in the back corner, but he’s found his eyes drawn periodically to it throughout today.

“You do know he’s still here, right?” He asks, if only to watch Jimmy’s head shoot up, eyes blown wide.

“Where?” Tango asks, apparently curious to meet Martyn as well. It certainly was interesting to pin the name he’s heard from Jimmy several times over the years to a face. Though he hardly looks like the type to start a club for policing other students.

“Back corner,” he nods over towards the table. “Your drinks will be done in a moment.”

“Fantabulous,” Tango grins, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders and pulling him up- though he’s less upright and more hunched over to allow Tango to continue holding onto his shoulders. “We’ll go have a chat with him then.”

“Pearl,” he doesn't even turn his head away from the machine, fins twitching at the sudden absence of sound from where Pearl should be. “Don't touch the music.”

“But all you play is musical soundtracks.” Pearl complains. He can hear her feet scuffing over the floor, dragging herself back towards the till. “Don't you get bored?”

“Don't you get bored of trying and failing?”

“I’ll succeed one day.”

He scoffs a laugh. “Maybe when I'm dead.”

Pearl huffs a laugh. “Not far off by the looks of it,” she’s leaning closer a moment later, hair slipping over her shoulder as she forces him to look at her. “How much have you been sleeping recently?”

“Not enough.”

He sets Tango’s drink on a saucer, shuddering at the thought of how much caffeine it contains- he doesn't shy away from strong coffee, but Tango scares him. Jimmy’s hot chocolate is far less stressful to think about for prolonged periods of time.

“That’s not an answer, Scott.” Pearl’s eyes are sad as she looks at him, the freckles on her cheeks glinting beneath the light, like tiny stars. “Is it about…” she trails off, but the silence is more meaningful than any words would be.

He fixes her with a glare, picking the drinks up. “I'm taking these to the lovebirds.”

“That’s not-” Pearl cuts herself off with a sigh as he walks away. He does his best to ignore the guilt he feels, settling heavy in his chest, brushing it off as he sets the drinks down in front of Tango and Jimmy.

They've sat down with Martyn, Tango listening excitedly as Martyn tells him some story or another. Jimmy looks like he wants to melt into the floor. Tango thanks him for the drinks, and he gets a muffled sentence from Jimmy that could be a thank you but could also be him pleading for a swift death.

He’s just glad that Cleo’s not here this afternoon, leaving the bar counter empty. It looks almost lonely without Pixl or Cleo occupying it with their rocks and their notes. But he’s still glad she’s not here, because while Pearl will continue to look at him with sad eyes in the hopes that he might crack (which has never worked in the past and will continue to not work), Cleo would strongarm any answers out of him, regardless of who is listening. And he knows who he is more equipped to deal with on two hours sleep.

He checks the clock, praying for the seconds to start ticking faster.

(He thinks the clock starts going slower, just to spite him.)

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wraithsoutlaws · 5 months

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you know i had a fun little vp idea i wanted to do for the cyberpunk anniversary but i haven't had the energy to even touch it recently so i'll just settle with saying that this game impacted me in ways i never thought it would when i first picked it up 3 years ago. i knew i would enjoy it, i had been looking forward to it for a long time, and despite a ~controversial~ launch, i had a fucking blast from day 1 (on ps4 no less). regardless of bugs and memes and public dunking, the story grabbed me like nothing else could at the time, and it reignited so much of my passion and motivation for art that i had lost in the clutches of mental illness and i'll always be grateful for that. it introduced me to so many wonderful people (some whom i carry very close to my heart), and maybe most personally surprising, it gave me an outlet to understand parts of myself that i had been too afraid to acknowledge for a long time, the courage to accept and embrace myself as non-binary, and allow myself to just BE without trying to convince myself i'm crazy. that's not what i expected from the get-go but it's been a really fun journey to be on ngl

#yeah this fandom been a little rocky in places but i would be lying if i said this community here wasn't special to me #so much love and passion and creativity to be around and be inspired by #so many people who have been impacted by this silly little heartwrenching game #devs who have poured their heart into it to deliver something genuinely incredible #its one of those strange things that really did fully change the trajectory of this little leg of my life #to think that until 3 years ago i hadn't even touched art in a decade #now there are lovely people who want to spend money on my work #3 years ago i bought my first (and only) refurbished ps4 to play this game and now im sitting on a fancy gaming laptop #ive said it before but vp has been such an important creative outlet too #its allowed me to live my dreams of being a film director. a cinematographer. a writer.#the whole game has let me be so damn self-indulgent sometimes i feel like a kid again just unashamedly playing barbie #finding the JOY of just. creating.#i learned so much about myself through an OC because of this game #it went from 'huh what is this feeling? gender envy?' to being like full blown 'oh yea. i get it now.' so much of my life makes sense kfslf #and i met people who mean the world to me on top of it all #woof anyways #i know i say it a lot but genuinely thank u to yall who have encouraged me and supported me and who enjoy the things that i make #youve made such a difference in my life without knowing it!

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fluffs-n-stuffs · 5 months

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/ mildly spicy art under the cut! --- sacredshipping ❤️‍🔥

clingy ghost types. 💕

#/yes I added the lil disclaimer because I shy . SKDJFHSJDKFNSJKDNFJS #INCREDIBLY self-indulgent art because I was really sad over being sick and made this to cheer myself up somehowksdjfsdfs #I'm actually Really happy with the pose on this one? It's a trickier one for sure but oh my goodness it was surprisingly fun to figure out #especially if it means getting to draw Morty all snug on Eusine's lap like that aha h ssdhfsdfnsdsn////////////////////// 🫣🫣🫣#(even out of his vampire costume he just can't keep his lips off the other's neck alright let him be all mushy and affectionate and bitey)#(Eusine is just Over the Moon having the other so comfortably in his arms like that ooughgggghgng)#me kicking my heels giddy over my own work asjkdanskdn #I wanna do sooooo much more touchy feely affectionate pieces with them I am Diagnosing them with Desperately Touch-Starved rn 🫵 /lh #sacredshipping #morty/eusine #morty x eusine #gym leader morty #morty pokemon #mystery man eusine #eusine pokemon #pokemon #pokemon hgss #pokemon gsc #fluff spice?!

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obimaulartfire · 5 months

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Meet the Sith!Obi-wans!

Hello friends! I've been working on this post for quite a while. I wanted to show you all my Sithywans, including art reference for them!

First up, we have Darth Vain, the masked figure who works in the shadows to improve the galaxy. (Or so he thinks)

Text: Darth Vain

Was Dooku's Padawan. Fell to the Dark Side with his master.

His death was faked when he left the Jedi Order. Obi-wan Kenobi is officially deceased.

Legitimately thinks he's helping the galaxy.

Wears a mask to hide his identity. (And, it's looks cool)

Operates in the shadows

Only reason he's Darkside is because he feels it is too late to turn back. (He is so sad)

Arm and leg cut off by Maul (pointing to his prosthetics)

Mask! (next to mask reference)

Elaborate obi (pointing to his waist)

Appearances: Here!

Next we have Darth Lurus, the seductive, arrogant Sith who craves power above all else.

Text:

Darth Lurus (pronounced like "Lure-us")

Embodies "seduction" to the Dark Side.

Relies heavily on soft power. e.g. Charm, negotiations, etc.

Freelance Sith (no master). Took (jedi) Maul as his apprentice.

Has seduced many to his cause, and used his allies to kill the Emperor.

Politically married to Satine. Rules as Emperor.

Has many hairstyles and outfits. (pointing to Lurus)

See-through sleeves (pointing to sleeves)

Here for vibes, mostly (pointing to...Lurus, again)

Appearances: Here, here, and here. (He's fun to draw!)

Finally, we have Darth Judicious, the revenge-obsessed, horror movie monster-esque Fallen Jedi.

Text:

Darth Judicious

Turned right after Qui-gon was murdered by Maul. (Qui-gon was unable to tell Obi-wan about Anakin)

Obsessed wth revenge and justice.

Thinks he can never go back to the light, but fully embraces his violent tendencies.

REFUSES to go down in combat. Will do ANYTHING to gain the upper hand.

Clings tightly to his past. Keeps torn Jedi robe with him. Obsessed with Maul.

INSANE. DO NOT ENGAGE.

Pupils are red when light shines on them. (pointing to eyes) (Disclaimer: do not ask me how this works, I have no idea. I just think it's fun)

Torn Jedi robe (pointing to the ribbon around his waist)

Keeps moving, no matter how badly he's damaged. (pointing to his broken foot and the blood on the floor)

Appearances: Right here! This is his visual design debut though :)

I hope you enjoy them! I adore these guys, and will hopefully write them/draw them more in the future!

Tagging @mcu-supersoldiers bc they asked for the ref

#sith!obi-wan kenobi #sithywan #sith!obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #darth vain #darth lurus #darth judicious #my art #my ocs #technically??#cw blood #also judicious is incredibly self indulgent i just like him :) he's unhinged and my scrungly man #there are so many facets of what sithywan could be #oh and please if anyone wants to give their thoughts/write fic/make fanart you are MORE than welcome to #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars art #long post

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bangobeep · 8 months

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hey girl. more stuff and whatnot

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youngpettyqueen · 2 months

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Hi! So I feel selfish since I've already requested a fic from you, but since you posted that new prompt list, could you please do #10 from The Comforter list? I don't care who says it as long as they are saying it to Julian! ❤️

anon I love youuuu <333 never be shy about asking me for fics I will happily take 695876934 requests from you

so 10 from the comforter list is... "You're only going to make it worse by not resting." and I love that and I love it applied to Julian

I decided to spread the Miles/Keiko/Julian agenda with this one- hope that's alright! this is set sometime nebulously before Keiko's pregnancy with Kirayoshi, so sometime in s3 maybe?

anyways! please enjoy <3

It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

The station's been dealing with an outbreak of Bajoran Red Fever. It's a nasty sickness, not fatal in most cases, but it can be pretty dangerous for younger children. It's also a pain in the ass to try to kick; the main symptoms being sky-high fever, dizziness and severe weakness, nausea, and some nasty joint pain. Luckily for the non-Bajoran occupants of DS9, it's a disease that really only affects Bajorans. There have only been a handful of non-Bajorans who have ever caught the diseases.

Unluckily, Julian is one of those non-Bajorans.

"How'd he even get it?" Miles asks, still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing, "I thought non-Bajoran cases were something like one in a million- that's what he was always saying, at least."

Nurse Jabara, wearing a face mask over her mouth and nose, gives a tired shrug as she rubs her temple. "The odds were slim, but not impossible. If I had to guess, I'd say the constant, repeated exposure on top of not nearly enough rest probably did it," She pinches the bridge of her nose, grimacing like she has a headache, "Whatever the case, he has it."

Keiko looks up from where she's checking the medkit Jabara gave her. "You said he fainted, right?" She asks. Jabara nods, so she follows up, "Did he hurt himself? Do we have to worry about, I don't know, a concussion? Anything like that?"

"No," Jabara confirms, and Keiko breathes a sigh of relief, "Lucky for him, Nurse T'Strei has great reflexes, and caught him before he fell. Speaking of which, she's probably not having a great time trying to keep him in bed," She gives Miles a look that is so, so very tired, "We've had patients coming in all morning. You can imagine how he's taking being laid up."

"Say no more," Miles doesn't need to imagine- he knows Julian will be about beside himself, "We'll take him off your hands. You said those shots you gave us will protect us from the fever?" He checks.

"You're as close to immune as you can be," Jabara nods, "There's one in there for Molly, too, just in case you can't keep her away from him. Believe me, asking your family to do this wasn't my first choice, but we aren't exactly blessed with options," She sighs, "Everybody who is resistant to the fever is busy working overtime to make up for everybody who's down with it, and I can't put him with anybody who's susceptible to infection. Commander Dax tried to insist, but joined Trill can contract the fever, and it could be deadly to her and the symbiont, and-"

"Jabara," Keiko steps in, places a gentle hand on the nurse's arm to stop her rambling, "It's ok. We'll take care of him." She reassures her.

Jabara pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Thank you," She breathes, "It's been... certainly one of the longer mornings of my career. Let me take you to him before T'Strei decides to sedate him." She says.

"If she hasn't already." Miles cracks, which earns him a nudge in the ribs from Keiko.

They follow after Jabara as she leads them further into the infirmary. It's pretty busy, mostly full of Bajorans, and all of them are masked up. The only people not masked up are non-Bajorans, though Miles notices that a few of the human staff are wearing masks. Probably since their human Chief Medical Officer went and got himself infected.

Speaking of the devil, it doesn't take long to find him. They just have to follow the sound of the arguing.

"This is hardly necessary."

"You are not presently fit to deem what is necessary."

Jabara stops, and gestures for them to go ahead into a separate area. Miles and Keiko both nod to her, and continue on.

Miles has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the scene they walk into. Because, sure, he's worried about Julian. Of course he is. But it's also very funny to see Julian lying on a biobed, with T'Strei sitting beside him and effortlessly keeping him pinned down to said bed with one hand on his chest.

"I have patients," Julian is insisting, even though he looks half-dead himself, "I have to finish my morning rounds, and then I need to-"

"If you can push me off," T'Strei cuts in, sounding like she's said this a million times over, "Then you can go."

"That is so not fair." Julian pouts.

Miles decides now is the moment to clear his throat and announce his presence. Both Julian and T'Strei look over at him, though he directs his attention to Julian. "Julian," He says, crossing his arms over his chest, "Are you disobeying doctor's orders?"

"Yes." T'Strei replies flatly.

"I'm the doctor," Julian huffs, indignant, "I give the orders."

"Which you are not following," T'Strei points out. She looks at Miles, "I assume you both are here to collect him?" She asks.

Keiko steps closer. "We are," She confirms. She's got a much more gentle touch than T'Strei and Miles do, bless her, as she goes and puts a gentle hand on Julian's cheek, "Nurse Jabara called us. How are you feeling?" She asks.

It's like a magic trick- Miles watches as all the defiance drains right out of Julian's expression, melted away by the simple touch of Keiko's hand. With all his defiance goes all his energy, and all the colour in his face. God, he looks awful- pale under his skin, and his eyes too-bright with fever.

"I'm alright," Julian tells Keiko, in a raspy voice that's anything but alright, "Honestly, Keiko, you didn't need to come."

Miles and T'Strei exchange a can you believe this bullshit look.

"Liar," Keiko accuses gently. She brings her hand up to his forehead, presses the backs of her knuckles against his pale skin, "You're burning up, Julian. You're not well. You need rest." She insists.

"Which is exactly what you're gonna get," Miles puts in, stepping over to join Keiko at Julian's bedside, "You're comin' home with us. That way, we can keep an eye on you. Make sure you actually get some rest, which we all know you're not gonna be gettin' in here." He explains.

"Oh, I- I couldn't ask you to do that," Julian says, looking as pathetic as a puppy in the rain, "I could get you sick, and what about Molly? I couldn't-"

"We got our shots done," Miles interrupts, "And we have one for Molly, too. So, no arguing," He looks up at T'Strei, "We can take him from here, Lieutenant. We'll get him outta your hair."

"Human expression." Julian says quietly, as T'Strei frowns at the statement. Then she nods, and takes her hand away, stepping back to let Miles and Keiko each grab an arm and gently ease Julian up into a sitting position.

"Thank you, Chief," T'Strei bids, "Mrs. O'Brien," She nods to Keiko, "If he gives you any trouble, do not hesitate to call. I can be available for assistance very quickly." She gives Julian a pointed look as she says that last part.

"I'm sure we can handle him," Keiko says as they get Julian off the biobed and onto wobbly legs. Miles is inclined to agree with her, considering Julian's already leaning heavily into his shoulder, the act of standing up apparently a significant drain on his energy, "C'mon, Julian, let's get you home. I've got everything you need right here." She shows him the medkit.

"Computer," Miles summons, seeing no point in dragging Julian through the long walk, "Three to transport to Chief O'Brien's quarters. Energize."

Miles wraps his arm tight around Julian's waist to hold him upright through the transport. One second they're in the infirmary, the next they're in the living room. Julian sways slightly, wobbling, and Keiko puts a hand on his chest to help steady him.

"Easy does it, Julian," She murmurs, starting to guide him towards the couch, "You poor thing, what made you think you could work like this? You're barely standing." She admonishes, her voice laced with concern.

Julian doesn't answer until they get him sitting down. He doesn't so much lean back as he does fall back against the cushions, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "I had patients," He mumbles, blinking a few times- dizzy, probably, "I couldn't just leave them."

Miles takes a seat beside him. Keiko does the same thing on his other side. "You've got a perfectly competent medical staff who are more than capable of runnin' the ship while you're away," He points out, "How long have you been sick? Honestly. Cause somehow I doubt this started today." He hasn't actually seen Julian in days. Their usual holosuite date got cancelled due to the outbreak, so he hasn't been able to keep an eye on him.

Julian frowns, squinting as he thinks. "I don't know," He replies, and he sounds like he means it, "Maybe a couple days ago. It's... hard to keep track." He admits.

Keiko gently rubs her hand up and down his arm. "Julian," She says, in that soft voice of hers that could melt ice, "When was the last time you slept?" She asks.

There's the million dollar question. That's always the first thing Julian starts to go without- sleep. Like he thinks he's superhuman, and can just keep on going without it. Miles has known him to go days at a time without a wink of shuteye. He wouldn't be surprised if this is one of those times.

Julian looks at Keiko. "I don't know," He tells her, his voice very quiet, "I... I honestly don't know."

Even Miles can't keep up his usual attitude when Julian's like this. He sounds so goddamn tired and he looks even worse, with those big doe eyes of his all sad and pathetic.

"It's alright, Julian," He finds himself saying, a whole lot softer than he usually is, "Molly's got a big party all day, she won't be back till tomorrow. So you'll have plenty of time to catch up on your sleep here." He gives his hand a reassuring pat.

"You're only going to make it worse by not resting," Keiko adds, bringing her hand up to his cheek, "I know resting doesn't come easy to you, but promise me you'll at least try, ok?" She rubs her thumb affectionately over his cheekbone, "Promise me you'll let us take care of you?" She implores him.

Miles knows this game of Keiko's well. Nobody is immune to it. He's over here melting, and he's not even her target. Sure enough, Julian is cracking a smile. A small one, weak and watery, but a smile nonetheless.

"That's cheating," He accuses, his voice gone soft, "You know I can't say no when you do that."

Keiko gives him a smile of her own, a smile that could rival a sunrise. "That's exactly why I do it." She teases. Then she leans in, and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

If Julian's face wasn't already flushed with fever, he's certainly blushing now, his cheeks going deep cherry red. "Miles." He says.

"Yeah?" Miles asks.

"I'm running away with your wife." Julian informs him, which makes Keiko snort and laugh.

"Not without me, you're not," Miles chuckles, giving Julian a playful nudge, careful to keep it light so he doesn't accidentally knock him over, "You can try that once you're all better. Until then, I'm not lettin' you outta my sight till you're better, ya hear?"

Julian looks over at him, still blushing, still smiling. "Loud and clear," He hums, "Do you have a kiss to go with that statement, or do I have to ask Keiko for another?"

Miles rolls his eyes. Keiko giggles. "At least you can still be obnoxious," He huffs. Even so, he does lean in and give Julian a quick peck on the temple, "There. Only cause you're sick." He tells him.

Julian's smile broadens into something resembling a grin. "You love me." He teases.

"Yes," Keiko leans in, gives Julian another kiss, this one landing high on his cheekbone, "We love you. And because we love you, we're going to take care of you," She gives Julian's shoulder a pat, "So you just lay back, and let us do the worrying for once, alright?"

Julian looks between them. And it's a subtle shift, but that mischievous grin softens, and turns into something much more affectionate and sincere. "I love you, too." He says to both of them, all sap and sweetness.

"Yeah, you're alright." Miles says, which gets him a laugh from Julian and an indignant swat from Keiko. What can he say, he's never been the best with all this sappy stuff.

Besides, they both know how he feels. He doesn't have to say it. He's never had to say it. They just know.

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