MOVED

@littlesilver-platinum

Send 🖤 for an insecurity my muse has about our muse’s relationship. [Accepting, mutuals]

// His insecurities are mostly tied to what Hikari is- a void creature, she was never truly allowed in the realm of the living (alas why she was being chased off by so many of them in ancient times).

Did things change for her? Has time effectively changed her nature?

Morty may no longer be the deity which had as its duty to protect humanity- but the same can’t be said for Hikari.

Morty hopes she has stopped dragging people into the void, because he feels like he wouldn’t have the backbone needed to stop her- like this.

X - @puffyhat-kotone

—

Route 34 - Johto

—

-Venturing past the city of gold was a task offered by her grandmother. A simple such thing, low effort yet an activity to take on- Actually, no. Her errand had not been to travel south of Goldenrod, but to stay within it to pick up books her aged relative had entrusted to a dear friend (ones she heard often came by on weekends, though she had yet to come to know that as a truth) and then return back home in a heartbeat. No buts, no ifs. A straight task for a young girl such as herself to manage without a hitch. … Sometimes she wondered if the old pair actually listened when she spoke of her wandering habits back in Sinnoh. Up cold, snowy mountains at the peak of December – or into bogs that stunk of tar and moss. She had traversed the regions diverse landscape many times in just a few years.

–There weren’t many places Hikari hadn’t been.-

-There were also places she never would go back to.-

-But… Johto was still foreign to her. New. That was a simple truth, and so she could understand why Masae was hesitant in letting her only granddaughter wander off on her own. That Hikari had come to feel that spark of… something, within herself once more at the idea of adventure? Of independence in a new light, clad in rainy springs that clogged her shoes to her ankles. Of independence, to choose her own path, rather than following the beat of somebody else’s drum.

With a kit in her arms – ever so lovingly nicknamed Grace, as the laid streets of a developing city changed into that of dirt roads most traveled – Hikari found herself remembering her adventures back home. –Her choices, once persuaded by the better judgement (supposed such) of the woman who was the beating heart of Sinnoh.-

-She could allow herself the distain for the champion. At the very least, in private – where no one but herself could judge her thoughts on the matters that sat so dear against her chest. That traveled like thorns within her throat until she could no longer breathe. –A coddled childhood toy impossible to throw away or forget, for it was as much a gift as it had been a curse.-

-Graces leafy fur brushed against her chin, large brown eyes meeting ocean blue and it was enough for Hikari to feel grounded. Like she was herself once more. That she was safe, and things were different.-

“… Want to stretch your legs for a bit?”

-Something akin to a whimper, a whine – a soft such sound, ever a show of the Leafeon’s timid nature, left the small kit. It was enough for her and, in a bend (one at her back, rather than her knees – for she dare not kneel in a skirt that didn’t go past them) Hikari let her Pokémon go.

Grace fell on his frontal paws, in a manner befitting his namesake, and there was only a single moment of hesitancy before he took the lead in their travels. Now and again touching his muzzle to the ground, mimicking a canine rather than its counterpart – something she had always found to be humorous, before his leafy ears twitched and turned at sound he was better built to catch.

A pause. Hikari’s eyes following his.-

-When he bolted past a fence, Hikari could barely register the act until it was too late. For to trespass, or to make himself known, were not something within the Leafeon’s nature to do. He was simply too shy – something shown in how he often would rather be carried within her arms, than to walk on his own. –For with her, just as she felt with him, he was safe.-

-Not this time, it seemed.-

-Hikari was quick after a moment of pause to follow him, being blocked by a fence that he so easily went through – only to mingle along with Pokémon sat on a row. –And if Hikari knew anything of daycares, and this seemed to be such a place – it must, then it was that feeding often happened in groups.

(The scent of food must have attracted him enough to forgo his shyness, although he seemed to almost regret it just as quickly.)

Still, with eyes that could be described as manic – yet with cheeks that sat flustered, Hikari would try and grab his attention. Smacking her lips ever so lightly, a whistle that turned his ears this way and that – and brought herself the attention of more creatures than she would ever wish to know – only resulted on one thing.-

-The girl caught sight of her.-

“I-“-Lost for words for but a moment, blunt fingernail dug into the wood that enclosed the yard – Hikari tried to gather herself. Move past embarrassment, as best she could. Leaning in, almost keeping half her body past the fence (and she would fall, if she wasn’t careful enough), words would spill past her lips in a jumbled mess.-

“He is mine, the-… I’m sorry, my Leafeon ran and I can’t get him, I- I uhm…” –Deflating, her eyes would divert. A last attempt to speak properly.”

“… Can you bring him to me?”

Afternoons were easily Lyra’s favorite time of day. The bright sun, warmest then in such a usually chilly place, high overhead and the distant sparkle of the blossoming city to the north, all coupled with the hustle and bustle of Pokemon at their most energetic always made noontime feel like the world was most alive. And Lyra was nothing if not a conduit for such lively, bounding energy. It was obvious in the way she walked, as if moving to a song only she could hear, the sway of her hips and the undefeatable smile on her face. For one who lived her entire life in a region most like autumn, she was the very image of Summer.

Another easy analogy, surrounded as she was in eager Pokemon jumping at her heels and thighs, was that of a fairytale princess weaving her way through forest animals all looking on in awe. It might have been a more concrete image, too, if not for the way she tripped and nearly toppled over the gaggle of Pokemon at her feet. Let it not be said Lyra wasn’t especially adept at subverting expectations! Thankfully, she was so used to tripping and landing that she’d long since learned how to bounce back as though nothing had happened. She just grabbed onto a nearby fence post, righted herself, and continued hauling a fairly heavy bucket full of Pokemon feed over toward the row of bowls she’d set up earlier!

Although it was difficult to hear over the cacophony of yips and whines of excitement, she hummed to herself as she poured out cupful after cupful of feed, careful not to shower eager muzzles as they nosed their way into the bowls as they were filled. She seemed lost in her own little world as she worked, quick and surprisingly efficient for someone so clumsy, proof of the years she’d spent doing this exact thing. Hikari and her Leafeon might have gone completely unnoticed if it wasn’t for the fact that she found herself short one bowl. A frown creased her features and she righted herself, tapping her finger in the air as she counted down the row of Pokemon busily munching away at their lunch.

Grace, she realized somewhat belatedly, was standing just off to the side, looking as out of place as can be and it took Lyra several more seconds than it probably should have to figure out what happened. Who was this stranger come to visit and where was his trainer? As if on queue, her attention caught the voice of an unfamiliar brunette approaching from the other side of the fence.

“The…? Oh!!” Catching up and shaking herself free of the trance-like state now that the mystery was solved, Lyra nearly jumped out of her skin. “S-sorry! Yeah, yeah, of course!” With a turn of her heel, approached the out-of-place Eeveelution, bending a foot or so away and stretching her hand out, palm up, toward him. “Hey buddy.” Her voice had dropped considerably, gaining a sweet, almost motherly tone as she spoke to the Pokemon. “It’s okay. Got lost, huh? Well, hey, your trainer’s here. Why don’t we go see her? I can bring her to you if you want. These guys won’t bother ya. They’re really friendly!”

-Timid was his nature, and it truly showed once he was approached by the other girl. Grace was brave in some regards, while not so much in others. --Hikari knew this very well. For at age thirteen, a task that should’ve been simple for any Pokémon that held the ability had taken the kit many attempts to gather the courage for. To evolve, a scary such thing that had taken days. He hadn’t wanted to be near the mossy boulder laid bare in Eterna’s vast forests, and Hikari hadn’t really forced him to be: Until the day that she did.

She had known that he desired to be of use to her – knew he cried to help her when battles were fought without him. But even still, as he had been – but a small Eevee that barely held his own, Hikari hadn’t wanted to put him in harm’s way.-

-And thus, turning him into something better – something useful, something that in the end would do him good – had been the choice she had made for him. And though she physically hadn’t forced him to evolve (had let him take it at his own pace, without giving him the option to truly say no), she also had given him no other option but to give in.

Was she cruel, for doing such a thing? Or was it what any young trainer would’ve done if they were in her situation. --After all, in her mind – the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. And with that, strength was needed or else she would crumble.-

-That it had taken him two hours to make the brave ‘choice’, was not a matter that haunted her as an inconvenience. For truly, it hadn’t felt as though it had lasted that long, nor did she remember the event as wasteful. Only, as happy.-

(-The words she had spoken to him as he came back, a new being for her to care for, still rang clear within her mind:

‘You’re amazing, Grace. I’m so happy for you.’-)

-She had wondered, a bit after that, if the Grace that came back still was the same creature as before. For there was strength within him now, where previously it had been lacking – and such things were hard to change in but a short amount of time. --That he still loved and cared for her as he had before, however, put her mind at ease.-

-Timid was his nature, and so it was in such a manner that his nose came to scent the air in search of something trustworthy about this girl. That her palm smelled of the fodder previously distributed within bowls, truly was the save and grace of the entire situation.

… Seemingly forgoing her modesty just moments ago, Hikari would tuck her skirt against her bum to make sure it stayed in place as she knelt. Moves her hair to one shoulder, knees together and the heels of her feet close. Then, extending her hand through the fencing – she would snap her fingers a couple of times to catch the kits attention. --She didn’t, after all, want to intrude on private property.-

-She didn’t know the laws of Johto.-

“If you… If you walk with him, I’m sure he can manage it well enough.”-It wasn’t impossible, and Grace himself seemed to react to her attempts of getting him towards her – but faltered at having to pass by the much larger creatures just to his right. He had always been the smallest within her own team.- “His name is Grace and… I- Well, give it a go?”

-Almost expectantly, the Leafeon stared up at Lyra. Seeking her aid, willing as ever to get back after having acted so inappropriately. --Forgive him for it, please.-

—

Cyrus had the idea of Galactic within his mind at the tender age of seventeen, a concept more than anything else. A fickle imaginary position that could, or would, bring him the godhood he thought himself worthy of (deserving of, and perhaps even destined to gain) within the realm that currently was – before he could take his place within the new one that need be created.

—

–That the world was at fault, with its spirit for strife created at the humans bare hands, was a matter that had always been known to him in some manner. His family aided perfectly in fostering his view of humanity. His father, in his eyes shown through actions that would befall him in its entirety, was a vile human being. Stealing and lying to get to where he found himself within the elite – to his mother, who sought company with unfamiliar faces in broad daylight yet could not find it in herself to spare a moment in her time to ask her son how he was doing.

She wouldn’t have gotten an honest answer, he would admit. So perhaps it was fruitless to dwell on such matters…

(That he would come to mimic his father’s ways as he grew in age was a thought he didn’t dwell on, nor did he feel connected to the idea. For when he lied, when he stole – it was justified. Can’t you see? He did it all to reach his goals that would make the world better.

–That the one that already existed got destroyed piece by piece meant little. It need not exist, nor will it be around once he was done…)

His one escape at this early age, his one light through this troubling revelation and realization – was at the guiding hand of one man alone. The designated youth pastor in training, only known to Cyrus under the name of Father Orlov. The youngest within the church, barely above the age of twenty – yet to Cyrus it made no difference. He held the authority over himself and the others of the group, he was the adult. Heaven-sent for him and, perhaps, him alone. He did no wrong, for he followed the ringing bells of the church as Oración played in almost unrecognizable tones within the tower looking skywards, took strides across stone floors as his baritone voice echoed off of pillars keeping the canopy above him supported and Orlov? He always smiled, even when wrong had been done. Would hold a grin that distorted once smooth skin with wrinkles, aging him beyond his years. And as the evening sunlight shone behind his towering frame, the singsong tones of children spewing choir songs line for line for all to hear – the feverish vigor that Father Orlov had shown him behind closed doors in his attempts to show Cyrus that he, and no other, had a purpose, got lost in the shape of a man that in the eyes of all others could be described as normal.

In those moments, even as a young boy, Cyrus had contemplated if there was a truth to either personality that the pastor showed – or if everything about him was theatrical and false. –He was merciful, until he was not. He was your guiding light, until his thumbs pressed into the hollows of your cheeks hard enough to leave bruises – leaving tears you swore to never shed at the corners of your eyes for him to judge.

As though he was Arceus himself.

… If he had deserved the hours upon his knees, his neck craned to the point of lasting damage before limber fingers found their way into his light locks to keep him steady – he did not fully know. For what he did wrong, was minor such offenses. Inconsequential and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

(Yet now, looking back, he found that had it been him in Father Orlov’s shoes, then he most likely would’ve mimicked the act on his own accord. Punishment, as it were, hurt more if something that deeply mattered to you was questioned. Cyrus may have grown out of the physical punishment his father dished out towards him once he hit teen hood – but the punishment of being shunned for his actions within the church stung all the more the older he became.

–If he didn’t belong in the church, then he truly was a lost soul.)

Father Orlov had been the person to put the idea within his mind. That he, Cyrus Akagi, needed to be set right – for he would one day bring forth greatness. Eventually, as more doors opened than closed for him within the religious scene of Sinnoh – stories locked away were brought before him. And the spark to actually do something with the station he held began to manifest into something more…

Something menacing, some might have said.  

—

—

Cyrus had the idea of Galactic within his mind at the tender age of seventeen, a concept more than anything else. A fickle imaginary position that could, or would, bring him the godhood he thought himself worthy of (deserving of, and perhaps even destined to gain) within the realm that currently was – before he could take his place within the new one that need be created.

—

–That the world was at fault, with its spirit for strife created at the humans bare hands, was a matter that had always been known to him in some manner. His family aided perfectly in fostering his view of humanity. His father, in his eyes shown through actions that would befall him in its entirety, was a vile human being. Stealing and lying to get to where he found himself within the elite – to his mother, who sought company with unfamiliar faces in broad daylight yet could not find it in herself to spare a moment in her time to ask her son how he was doing.

She wouldn’t have gotten an honest answer, he would admit. So perhaps it was fruitless to dwell on such matters…

(That he would come to mimic his father’s ways as he grew in age was a thought he didn’t dwell on, nor did he feel connected to the idea. For when he lied, when he stole – it was justified. Can’t you see? He did it all to reach his goals that would make the world better.

–That the one that already existed got destroyed piece by piece meant little. It need not exist, nor will it be around once he was done…)

His one escape at this early age, his one light through this troubling revelation and realization – was at the guiding hand of one man alone. The designated youth pastor in training, only known to Cyrus under the name of Father Orlov. The youngest within the church, barely above the age of twenty – yet to Cyrus it made no difference. He held the authority over himself and the others of the group, he was the adult. Heaven-sent for him and, perhaps, him alone. He did no wrong, for he followed the ringing bells of the church as Oración played in almost unrecognizable tones within the tower looking skywards, took strides across stone floors as his baritone voice echoed off of pillars keeping the canopy above him supported and Orlov? He always smiled, even when wrong had been done. Would hold a grin that distorted once smooth skin with wrinkles, aging him beyond his years. And as the evening sunlight shone behind his towering frame, the singsong tones of children spewing choir songs line for line for all to hear – the feverish vigor that Father Orlov had shown him behind closed doors in his attempts to show Cyrus that he, and no other, had a purpose, got lost in the shape of a man that in the eyes of all others could be described as normal.

In those moments, even as a young boy, Cyrus had contemplated if there was a truth to either personality that the pastor showed – or if everything about him was theatrical and false. –He was merciful, until he was not. He was your guiding light, until his thumbs pressed into the hollows of your cheeks hard enough to leave bruises – leaving tears you swore to never shed at the corners of your eyes for him to judge.

As though he was Arceus himself.

… If he had deserved the hours upon his knees, his neck craned to the point of lasting damage before limber fingers found their way into his light locks to keep him steady – he did not fully know. For what he did wrong, was minor such offenses. Inconsequential and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

(Yet now, looking back, he found that had it been him in Father Orlov’s shoes, then he most likely would’ve mimicked the act on his own accord. Punishment, as it were, hurt more if something that deeply mattered to you was questioned. Cyrus may have grown out of the physical punishment his father dished out towards him once he hit teen hood – but the punishment of being shunned for his actions within the church stung all the more the older he became.

–If he didn’t belong in the church, then he truly was a lost soul.)

Father Orlov had been the person to put the idea within his mind. That he, Cyrus Akagi, needed to be set right – for he would one day bring forth greatness. Eventually, as more doors opened than closed for him within the religious scene of Sinnoh – stories locked away were brought before him. And the spark to actually do something with the station he held began to manifest into something more…

Something menacing, some might have said.  

—

”Well… Sometimes less can be more.” –It would be a lie if Hikari didn’t admit to having been lousy in the get up she gave her partner in contests – yet it cannot be overstated that a Pokémon like Gliscor doesn’t hold many options for wear. Less had truly been more, in her short reign.

–She was a heavily favored contestant, as well; having only ever competed within Sinnoh itself.

And when the isolated region could nab a win for themselves, then they would.-

-Espeon – a Pokémon she found very, very pretty if asked for an opinion, could hold favor by simply being that. If Red did try contests, then it could be an easy few first wins!-

-Hikari listened to his words as the warmth of the mansion made itself known – lit by candlelight, the halls held an old-fashioned vibe (yet you could see bulbs hidden within the chandelier up above). Maids clad in fashion that was more for show than actual restrictions lingered in doorways and down halls, a few taking to viewing the new pair that came for a visit. –If Hikari waved them off, an indication that they were not here for anything other than the garden, it was but a miniscule act that barely would go noticed.-

“I haven’t ever heard of… Bill.”-In passing, long ago perhaps – during the early stage of her journey. But with a name such as that, is it a wonder that it has slipped her mind?-

–Once inside, you want to get right back out. The garden framed by woods (owned by the very mansion, but free for the public to use given that they were not there to destroy anything) displayed before the young trainers.

A sight for sore eyes, with bushes freshly cut and flowerbeds laying a foundation for Pokémon of all kinds to desire.-

“Hey…”-Looking back at the young boy, an idea sprung to mind. Though Pikachu was terribly cute and sweet, Hikari had yet to know of any of Red’s other teammates. –If he truly was a champion (a title that caused her stomach to flip to just think about), then he surely must’ve gathered himself a unique team throughout his journey, right?

Hikari’s knowledge of species outside of Sinnoh was, in truth, lacking.-

“If you want to repay me… Can I meet your other Pokémon?”

This place was so fancy! Red couldn’t help but marvel at anything and anyone he saw in the mansion. It was like something you would see out of a television show. Not to mention it was such a big building! Someone famous or very rich must have lived here. They even had maids here! Now that was something Red never thought he’d see, though there were some on the S.S. Anne boarding with some of the richer folk.

“Ah Bill’s the Pokemon Maniac back home. He’s the guy who invented the Pokemon Storage PC system!” Red looks around with a confused expression. There were no Pokemon on the inside of the building that he saw. Where the Pokemon hiding in the rooms maybe?

Still he chooses to not question anything until they went to where they were suposed to go. Pikachu rests on Red’s hat enjoying everything around him. He was very intrigued by the paintings and portraits on the wall or any other decoration that had a slight sheen to it. Shiny things never fail to get the Pikachu’s attention.

Once the three had crossed the threshold to get to the garden, Red’s jaw dropped. Everything was so beautiful and well-kept, the flowers and plants looked as though they were teeming with life. Whoever took care of this Garden did a really good job! Pikachu quickly jumped off Red’s hat to a flower he spotted and smelled it happily. The flower had a sweet smell, yet the pollen that eminated from it did cause him to sneeze.

This just made Red giggle at how curious his Pikachu was. Like trainer like Pokemon. He then hears Hikari’s request to see his Pokemon. Right now he didn’t have Mewtwo or one of the Legendary Birds on his person at the moment, so he won’t cause a big crowd of people if he shows what he has now. With a nod and a smile, Red took out the first Pokeball on his belt. 

“Of course! I’d love for you to meet them! Though they are rather big so we might need plenty of room.”

Red steps back a bit so as not to open one of the Pokeballs and drop the Pokemon within on something or someone.“Pikachu’s the smallest in my team at the moment, but he’s plenty strong for someone so tiny.” Pikachu didn’t like to be called “small”, but hearing that his trainer thought he was strong made him smile proudly as he crossed his arms and smiles with closed eyes. That was when Red took out his first Pokemon. An orange and yellow dragon like Pokemon had appeared, growling to intimidate his opponent with a fierce roar of fire. Though after a moment the Pokemon realised he wasn’t in battle and turned around with a friendly look on his face.

The second Pokemon that was taken out was a big green leafy type creature with a flower on his back. As it’s eyes open from being released, the quadruped Pokemon blinked a few times as if it was just done with a nap and yawned loudly. The next Pokemon he had brought out was a blue bipedal Pokemon with a huge shell on his back. His first response was to greet the humans with a smile. A large Pokemon who also had a shell had appeared from another Pokeball, only this one had cylinder-like protrusions coming from her shell. She seemed to be the shy one of the group since she moved her head behind Red in a timid manner. She had a long, slim neck.Finally the last Pokemon Red releases was the biggest and heaviest one. A rounded sleepy looking Pokemon that gives a slight wave before going to sleep.

-You learn something new every day.-

-At the boy’s awe, Hikari took to stepping to the side. Off the path, just slightly, to kneel to the flats of her feet – knees tucked up against her chest. Idly, her hands found work in righting the length of her skirt over her limbs (finding that it sat dirtied from the previous… adventure, shall we say, that the two of them had found themselves in earlier in the day) and, once situated? --Chin resting within her hand, she watched as the show and tell began.

That Pikachu was the smallest, was something she perhaps had thought was said out of modesty… Yet she would learn very quickly that that was not the case. With the first new contender to the field – large as he was – Hikari almost fell to her bum from the surprise of his stoic entrance. A quickening of her heart, the sight of fire something she hadn’t been so near for quite some time.-

-That it gave her a bit of an adrenaline rush, was not wrong. Still she stayed crouched as she was – one hand now at her side to support her balance, should she be surprised further by any of his other teammates.-

-With each new member, her eyes widened a fraction. For in truth, none of these were species she had ever known of before – nor could she name them, if given the task. Her only clue to who they may be, were their coloring; an indication of typing most often, if nothing more. --Water, fire and grass… And one she would decide on a later time. The sleeping beast of a Pokémon was larger than most she had seen (if she must, then she would liken it to a Mamoswine up north – yet perhaps it was not a fair comparison).

That Red explained their names for her, was all she needed to feel confident in continuing on.-

“They are all… Truly huge.” –Tilting her head this way and that, her eyes lingered on the grass type who seemed like the mellowest of them all. Remembering his listing of their names, attributing them to each monster – she reached out the palm of her hand to Venusaur.-

“You remind me of Torterra,”-she would comment, hoping to catch his attention. However, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer from the Pokémon, she turned her gaze towards its trainer.- “Is he… Grass and ground, too?”

-And though her eyes were drawn to the Lapras – its shapely head fascinating and rather pretty, if nothing else, she didn’t want to scare the poor thing. Grace was very shy, after all, and so she knew it could do more harm than good to try and approach such an animal right away.-

Σ(ﾟДﾟ；): Have they ever sprained or broken their leg before? How about their arm? What was the story behind it?

╰(*´︶`*)╯: Do they appreciate hugs? Would they prefer to give hugs or receive hugs? What kind of hugs do they like to receive and/or give?

ಠಿ_ಠ: Do they look up or down when they are trying to recollect something?

ヽ( ´O｀): What is their body language like when sleepy? 

(Дﾟ≡ﾟДﾟ): When they are surprised by somebody do they physically jump? Scream? 

(⸝⸝⸝ ̑ ̑⸝⸝⸝):  Does their face get red after they drink?

(„ᵕᴗᵕ„): Does their face turn red when embarrassed? If so, how else do they react when embarrassed? (I.E. Shifting of weight upon foot, etc.)

( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ»: Do they have a sensitive spot/s?

(〇o〇；): What is their body language like when they are stressed? Do they try and hide the fact that they are stressed? How do they recover from said stress?

ಠ-ಠ: Do they like it when people touch their hair?

(ﾉ≧ڡ≦): Do they like to show affection by physically teasing? (I.E: Shoulder punches, etc.)

♪⁽⁽٩( ᐖ )۶⁾⁾ ₍₍٩( ᐛ )۶₎₎♪: How are they like when they dance? Are they stiff? Fluid? A good dancer? Do they prefer to dance with a lot of others, with one other person, or alone?

ง ( ⌓̈ )ง: Are they physically strong when it comes to fights?

(´∀｀): Do they laugh when they get nervous?

ಥoಥ: How are they like when they cry? Do they just stream tears nonstop? Does their nose get clogged to the point that it’s hard to breathe? Is it easy for them to speak when they are sobbing? Do they hiccup when they cry?

ಸヮಸ: Do they lean back or forward when they laugh hard? Do they snort? Slap their knee? Do that seal-esque clap? Do they often laugh to the point that you can’t hear their laugh anymore?

「(°ヘ°): How does one calm them down when they are freaking out? Do they prefer physical comfort, or would they rather be left alone?

⊙.☉: Does their voice get an octave higher when they lie? Does it crack?

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡): Does having somebody stroke their head make them feel relaxed?

(ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*): Do they prefer kisses on the cheek? Forehead? What about neck kisses?

(-.-): How should one wake them up? Do they get out of bed easily?