#chilling during the day so they're not like covering every surface but it is getting to be too many for my personal preference

[dragpinkman]

idk when i last did a shrimp update but it went from: i got 10 from lfs sick with a bacteria -> quarantined them for a couple of months until completely asymptomatic and no more deaths (6 remaining) -> added them back in the tank -> the shrimp started to breed because its a tropical tank and not cold water like their isolation tank -> one shrimp had the first babies (10 survived being eaten when they were small by the fish) i was excited to have my numbers up again -> the baby had some babies (one of which was born genetically much bigger and striped which i find cool, he was put in my moms betta tank) -> those babies had babies -> i have over 70 shrimp. what once was a community tank is now a shrimp tank with a few fish.

[nomoreusername]

Never Forgotten

Pairing:Minho x female reader

Summary:When Minho keeps ending up in the Med-hut, you realize the only thing he needs is your attention.

It wasn't his usual behavior. I mean Minho was nothing less than determined to find a way out. I've seen that man try to run in the Maze after throwing up his breakfast. If that isn't dedication, I don't know what is.

That's why I'm more than concerned about him. He shouldn't be begging to stay in the Med-hut. If he ever, ever wanted to miss a day of running, something is genuinely wrong.

"You're telling me you don't realize what's happening?"Jeff sighed as I looked over at him.

"What do you mean?"

"We always have to fight Minho to get down here when he's hurt, right?"

"Yeah,"I nodded.

"And he'll argue that he's not until he's blue in the face and throwing up?"

"I definitely remember that."

"And he still tries to say he's fine anyway?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that him coming in for some unknown sickness is not something he would do."

"I know. That's why I'm worried about him,"I shrugged, trying to wrap my head around his words.

"Oh, he definitely wants you to be,"Clint said in a smug voice, borderline smirking.

"What are you shanks on about?"

"What we're pointing is that ever since you started hanging out with Chuck more, he sure does seem to get mysteriously hurt,"Jeff explained.

"Oh please. He's the last person who would fake an illness to get my attention,"I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous thought.

"He's also the last person to admit that he needs it,"Jeff reasoned.

"He'd actually break his leg before doing that,"Clint added.

"Minho's not clingy. He's fine being apart from me."

"Well, he also still really likes his girlfriend. We see you two holding hands during Greenie night. Sneaking off to get into some trouble,"Clint grinned.

"We're walking around and talking, you idiot,"I honestly told them. I swear I lose brain cells every time he opens his mouth.

"But you've been with Chuck during Greenie night's lately, haven't you?"

"My boyfriend is not jealous of a twelve year old,"I said firmly, surprised that was a sentence I even had to say. Besides, he likes Chuck. He may not be around often, but he'll never not stop and talk if he has the time. Even if they're not best friends, they know each other more than well enough. They'll probably never be attached at the hip, but it's not rare to see the pair enjoying a meal together or just hanging out during some free time.

"No, but he hasn't been getting all his hand holding and kissy kissy-"

"It doesn't like you two have been hanging out that much,"Jeff thankfully cut him off.

"So he's faking a sickness for my attention?"I clarified.

"No klunk."

"Definitely."

"Huh,"I mumbled, glancing over at him again. Truly and actually looking him over, I saw that on the surface, there was not a single thing out of place. He wasn't devoid of color or sweating. He wasn't coughing or throwing up. He wasn't shivering or drowsy. He was just sitting there, completely chill.

"You see it now?"

"Yeah. I do,"I admitted, looking at them again.

"So what are you gonna do then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we can't just let him stay. If there's nothing wrong and someone sick actually comes in, then there actually will be. So how are you going to get him out of here?"

Resting my chin on my hand, I furrowed my eyebrows as I tried to figure out a solution to this. After all, they're definitely and unfortunately right. He can't stay, but he obviously doesn't want to leave. That's more than a problem.

"You do that one more time, I'll get Alby on your shuckface!"Newt yelled from outside.

That's it. I know what I need to do.

"How scared are you guys of Alby?"I asked slowly.

"Terrified."

"Not scared at all."

"Great. That's promising,"I mumbled.

"But if it gets him out of here, I'll do whatever you need me to,"Clint said quickly.

"You think you can cover up two missing people?"

"Who says I haven't done it before?"

"Yeah. I think we can handle that,"Jeff assured me.

"Great, because you're both going to have to today."

"What's the plan?"

"That's for me to know, and you two to help me with without ever finding out."

"That's a terrible answer."

"What would be worse is dealing with an actually ill Minho,"Jeff pointed out.

"That is a fantastic answer."

"Yeah. I know it is."

♡ - - - ♡

I told Minho that he felt kind of cold. I played dumb to him feigning an illness to have my attention.

Because while it takes a bit more effort, it's way more rewarding to actually give it to him.

Walking with him towards the Deadheads, I smiled as our shoulders brushed together.

"Where exactly are we going?"He asked.

"Just around,"I lied. As he nodded I slowly took his hand in mine. Tightly lacing our fingers together, I smiled as I led him almost out to the open. Looking over, I saw him wearing a subtle grin at the touch.

"Right here,"I spoke up, taking him with me up the small hill. Accepting it, he let our arms dangle as he seemed to forget all about his "sickness". Beaming at the realization, I couldn't help but stop him before we actually reached our destination. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I stood on the tips of my toes as I lightly pressed my lips against his. Snaking his hands around my waist, he kissed me back, his smile obvious against my lips.

Then, he remembered his cover as he quickly pulled away and fake coughed.

"You can quit pretending now,"I sighed, placing my hand back in his.

"Pretending?"

"Yeah. I know that you're not sick,"I shrugged. When he almost froze in his tracks I tugged on his hand with a little more effort.

"You knew?"He mumbled.

"Yeah. It took me a minute, but I do now."

"So why are we outside then? If you know?"

"Because you obviously need my attention. You wouldn't do this if you didn't."

"Well, you haven't been hanging out with me lately,"He defended.

"And you couldn't just tell me that?"

"Um, I'm me? Remember?"

Laughing a little, I rolled my eyes as we got to the top of the hill. Free of weeds and nuisances, it was more beautiful than any other part of the Deadheads. The only plants were grass and colorful flowers. It was open sunshine and absolute peace.

And set up right in the middle was a blanket and picnic basket, courtesy of Fry.

Taking a seat on the blanket, I patted the spot beside me. With his eyes still wide in disbelief, he slowly walked over. Doing so, he just gazed at me as if I was every good thing in one.

"I love you,"He whispered, putting his hand on my knee. Scooting closer, I leaned my head against his shoulder while slowly running my thumb over his knuckles. Closing my eyes, I just took in the feeling of loving Minho. Private but genuine displays of affection are his favorite thing. He's always happy when I do something that means we'll get to spend time alone together. That's what he manages to do more often than his schedule should allow.

Still, he does it for me because he loves me.

The way I do things for him because I love him.

"I'm sorry I haven't been giving you the attention you want,"I apologized, opening my eyes and looking up at him.

"As long as you're still my girl, it's okay,"He assured me, cupping my face with his hands.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,"He nodded, closing his eyes and leaning in. Doing the same, I brushed my lips over his. He was absolutely addicting to be around. Every glance, every word, every touch, every kiss, left me more and more hooked. He's like my oxygen. I can only go so long before needing to have him again. He's my everything, and I will never, ever forget that. Even if my mind sometimes gets busy, I know that we'll always find a way to be side by side.

"One thing though?"He asked as he pulled away but kept his gentle touch.

"Anything you want."

"Spend the next Greenie night with me?"He asked, his eyes begging for me to say yes.

"I was already planning on it, my secret romantic."

[lordreconnaissance]

Artis

"This is super not okay."

"Chill out, bro. It's just the woods. They're the same exact woods they are during the day."

The older hatchling blinked his golden eyes. "We're lost. Hopelessly. And we're gonna get eaten by something. Admit it."

His younger sister scoffed. "You're being dramatic. We're dragons. We're at the top of the food chain."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so--" He stopped abruptly. "Wait. Do you see that?"

Up ahead were glowing lights, bobbing gently like something floating upon the surface of the sea. Lights! They were a beacon in the ink-black night. Neither hatchling saw any reason to avoid them; they rose from the ground, spreading their wings and flapping towards the gleams.

The lights shrank away as they flew closer. Forgetting their minor squabble, they made it into a game, chasing the lights through the trees, ducking and darting to avoid the thick branches.

They were having fun. Until the lights suddenly stopped moving and they smacked right into the source.

The siblings tumbled to the ground, falling over one another in a shocked tangle.

"Ow!" came a voice. "Hey, that really hurt! What are you doing in my swamp?"

Swamp? The hatchlings picked themselves up, wincing, and sank down to their knees in mud. They squinted at the lights, and they saw a pair of eyes like theirs, glowing golden in the night, in the midst of them. Another dragon.

She was standing in front of a row of bushes, holding a basket half full of berries. When their eyes adjusted, they saw a triangular cabin behind her some ways away.

"No way," said the sister. "How long have we been flying? There's no swamp on the maps here. And we know every inch of these woods!"

The Veilspun shook her head. "I've lived here long before you two were hatched, I can promise you that." She turned and started waddling towards the cabin, pausing only once to glance back at them. "Well? Are you coming? I'm not about to leave two kids out here alone. Let's get you some hot stew."

They trudged through the mud onto dry land and followed.

The inside of the cabin was a single room hung with garlic, mushrooms, and various meats. The walls were lined with books on alchemy and survival; the floor was covered in one giant colorful rug; glass cabinets displayed treasures like crystals and polished wood carved into animals.

A bubbling cauldron hung on the hearth in the middle of the room. It smelled amazing. Stepping forward and looking closer, the siblings saw that it was full of meat and vegetables in a brown gravy.

Enchanted, they wiped the mud off their scales and sat down at a low table. The Veilspun put bowls heaped with stew down in front of them. They dug in happily.

"Now," said the Veilspun, "what are your names?"

"I'm Telltale," said the sister, "and this is--"

"I'd rather not tell a stranger my name," the brother cut in.

The Veilspun simply smiled. "Thank you, dear."

The cattail-shaped lights around her face glowed brighter and brighter. As bright as the sun. The brother couldn't look anymore.

And then, they went out. His eyes adjusted and he looked around, startled. He was in his bed. The sun was up, streaming through the glass of his and his sister's enclosure. He turned to her side of the nest. "Telltale?"

But she wasn't there.

Immediately the brother knew what had happened. He tore out of his enclosure and hurried into the woods. He had to find his sister.

This dragon is on sale in my lair!

[tinglecannon]

On the Eve

Day 3 prompt: Eve/End of @huwumi-week-2018.

This is the first chapter, day 4 will be the second. I have a lot of angsty Hawks HCs like that he overworks himself to the point of fainting (don't do this irl kids). Also on Ao3.

---

Just a few more hours, Hawks tells himself. Just a few more hours then I can go home and go to bed.

His eyelids are so heavy he can barely see, which is already an issue given the low visibility outside. It hardly snows in the city however a few inches accumulated overnight, leaving a layer of frost and ice dusting all surfaces outdoors.

Hawks doesn't care though, even as a harsh gust of wind whips past, cutting through the layers of clothes and chilling him to the bone with ease. It's like this every year.

Every month of December there are pools of patrol hours for heroes to request days off around the holidays to be with family. Hawks is young and single, so he opted to cover as many shifts as possible. The number he would take increased each year, until this year he volunteered to work a double shift every single day of the godforsaken month.

Many colleagues advised against him working so much, but their protests fell on deaf ears.

Hawks hasn't talked with his family in years, prefers it that way too, and he'd rather do something productive on the 28th than celebrate a birthday no one cares about. He's gained a bit of a reputation for overworking, even while openly wishing heroes had more free time, though he always jokes there are worst reputations he could have.

Hawks’ teeth clatter as he stalks down an empty street, his footsteps resounding each time they fall on the layer of crunchy snow coating the ground. It usually plays out this way, another reason he talks himself into taking too many shifts; even villains hate the cold and stay indoors during the holidays.

Hawks scoffs a self-deprecating laugh as he thinks how even criminals have family to visit but not him.

Puffs of breath float from his covered mouth and continually fog his visor, though he's too exhausted to care anymore. He sighs deeply when he turns yet another corner and finds no signs of any people having been around for awhile.

“I could try flying around again but...fuck I'm so tired.” His yawn is muffled behind his collar. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes and gradually roll down his cheeks, stinging the skin in the frigid air.

Hawks flaps his wings aggressively to try and work some warmth into the flesh and bone. Unfortunately the action takes much more energy than it should and he ends up burying his face further into his collar to yawn again.

Dammit, I feel like I'm gonna pass out…

Hawks takes a few groggy steps forward and wobbles. A flurry of snowflakes roar past, echoing off the brick walls of the alley he’s in. A combination of the overwhelming fatigue and the strong wind pushing him forward causes his foot to slip over a patch of black ice and out from under him.

Hawks thinks about reaching his hands out in front of him or opening his wings to catch his fall, however his movements are too sluggish and he ends up face first in a dense snowbank up against the closest wall. The air gets knocked out of his lungs upon contact, along with any residual energy fumes he was running off of.

The hero tries to push himself up when his arms give out after just a second and he falls back into the snow with a soft thud. He attempts beating his wings next, but they're too stiff from the cold and he can't summon the strength to move them enough to lift his body.

Fuck...I'm too tired to get back up… Hawks struggles to keep his eyes open, his slanted view of the surroundings blurring more and more until finally there's only black.

---

There's a faint buzzing bubbling just behind his consciousness, as if his body was submerged under water and the sound is just above the surface. Hawks can't pinpoint where or what the noise is, it sounds so familiar but he can't quite place it.

Slowly his eyes flutter open.

He blinks blearily a few times until his vision starts to clear. Once he can see properly the noise intensifies, and after a moment he realizes it to be his cell phone.

Hawks lazily rummages in his pocket until he locates the device, then pulls it up to his face and squints at the caller ID. It's some number I don't have saved...probably not important. He drops his arm onto the snow and huffs a sigh. The ringing ends, and he's left with a peaceful silence.

Then the phone starts to ring again.

He lugs his arm back up and sees it's the same number. Figuring they might keep calling or it could even be a villain emergency he slides the call button and brings the phone to his ear. “Hello?" He forces in the most neutral tone he can manage.

“Hello Hawks-san! Merry Christmas!" A cheerful feminine voice greets.

Hawks blinks and then mumbles, “It's not Christmas...it's still Christmas Eve.” He pauses before adding, "Also who is this?”

With the gentle way the voice speaks Hawks can almost see the pleasant smile accompanying it. “No, Hawks-san, it’s 12:02am, meaning it’s now Christmas. And this is Todoroki Fuyumi. Um, father gave me your number in case of an emergency, and I figured I should wish you a happy holiday since I have it!”

“What??” Hawks shoots up onto his knees and frantically checks the time. 12:02...December 25th. Holy shit, I actually fell asleep...and for hours. I'm so lucky I didn't get killed or something, that was ridiculously stupid of me...

“Um…” Fuyumi mutters on the other line, just loud enough for Hawks to hear and bring the phone back to his ear. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. A-and I'm sorry I accepted your number without your permission---”

Hawks exhales and pushes his visor up to rub his eyes. “No, no, don't apologize. You actually did me a huge solid calling.”

He looks around and notices none of the snow around him has been disturbed, meaning it's highly likely no one ever knew he was unconscious in this dingy alley.

Hawks plans to keep it that way.

He groans as he stands up and cracks his back. A concerned noise comes from his phone reminding him he's still talking to Todoroki-san. “Ah, sorry. Just tired."

“You sound it." She hums softly. “...Did I wake you?”

"It's no big deal." Hawks yawns away from the receiver. He starts to trudge back towards the district square and decides to determine during the walk if he's energetic enough to fly the rest of the way.

There's a pause long enough Hawks thinks she must've hung up.

Finally she speaks up again. “What do you mean my calling was doing you a 'huge solid’?”

“Oh, uh---”

Before Hawks has a chance to change the subject she asks another question. “Wait, aren't you on patrol? Why would you be asleep?"

“How do you know my work schedule?” He scoffs, hoping that's enough of a distraction to keep her inquiries at bay.

“Father mentioned you were working an extreme amount of overtime, something like a double shift every day of the month?”

Thanks, Endeavor-san. Hawks narrows his eyes and hunches his massive wings defensively. “That's none of your concern."

A beat of silence passes, and Hawks foolishly thinks she's going to drop it.

When she gasps sharply in shock he knows he's been figured out.

“...oh my God, did you pass out from exhaustion??”

Hawks groans and drops his head as Fuyumi starts flip-flopping between scolding and panicking on the other line. Maybe I shouldn't have picked up.

[serak-sarak-meta-sarahk]

I also have an issue being me because brown people have no issue in society with the name Bob Musselman overwhelmingly, even if the white people hate is going on. People still don't name drop his name among those populations so to avoid voice raising banter and still feel like I move forward in life and have a social life... even the white people youll run into who overhwelmingly chill socially with those populations historically during those times want calm non political convo about platonic hobbies out... even if you are sober it's not a push to get not sober in those times with those people brown people even net new in public.

I ended up in 2019 around my family or lineal friends to construction luckily where I can just be calm proud to have a dad. That was huge.

I can sit with brown people during those times and still have a dad. Where they're going to look at me like I have a dad that moment alone during the times where people my dad follows in sports or business partner name types or logo types I saw like the all caps TRUMP logo are cycling the media and i slight have always remembered one politician got conned by his own dad. Then that's when I first saw the TRUMP logo all caps instead of a signature type logo. When i saw J Trump, i could cry anti trafficking with the block TRUMP logo then hed push me along that way even with ming through control its okay to no no no no cover your ears lalalalal at the lingo if it gets to you when it wasnt the signature logo anymore. For even lingo based when you tell the block TRUMP no path to trafficking type stuff.

That's when the media got creepy

Maybe I'll sit with brown people instead of the media reading meaning you know whats going on for my self thoughts. The idea of political leadership being anti trafficking doesn't scare me to read that far into politics right now directing people's every single day breath... then people say it's irresponsible to not pay attention

It's never a race to be BLM or race friend wanting or mongering about it of certain races. It's just where I can have a dad figure even with no name when media is scary just sitting by silently not bringing cycle paying attention to with the news equaling intelligence over all times all around.

Because they don't bring that convo or political open convo outwardly to start. So if you're confused by the media they bring good platonic convo to not catch yourself slipping to popitician or people name dropping. You can have a dad figure for the idea of protection if that is still okay for it to mean to you.

But IF I'm all around brown people outside seeming all the time people say I'm being not cool with white people or not liking them as a white person being me. I'm just trying to sit by not dad hate misdirected to me.

Also any racial population that has no Bush hate, I will accept to sit with large groups of at a place or near to be respectful in a restauraunt if it were about that.

Or I'm "trying to go blm" for trying to have a space where Bob Musselman is my dad and in fine with that is fine. Just as a surface level among my age kids as just a surface level before my interests. I can entry way with my name and my dad's name and it's a fine fine fine and then my interest come from wholesome places not like a BLM trip or attempt and it's usually generational me age brown kids who thing Bob Musselman name is surface level fine to be my dad just surface.

So while I don't first find romantic attraction, I can eat a silent meal or accept their questions knowing it's normal intention. Because like when I say Bob Musselman to them it's surface level not "hate the white man" for him to be my dad. Or simply things like smiling okay when you hear a name like George HW Bush even with the H.

You can sit down with a silent meal and if a question is asked it's not scary intention. So you can talk about like funny Bob Musselman and it's so funny to them or I can be proud of construction. And it's not white man construction. It's just a job but it's economically cool.

So I'm not trying to go BLMey I just can answer one question. The response is accepted. Both people leave...

It's just a silent safe with positive dad vibes silently that I can also leave platonically alone or no one wondering why you leave alone or aren't picking someone at the place for that day or going in judging movements to get people home and im not wondering if theyre doing that either with convo.

But my dad literally works in fair wage construction. That's a quick start with people who don't want to hurt me and I can say my dad's name how I prefer to speak it which is nuetral level non creepy bio dad who just gives fair wages and tries to keep the place safe on a production line

That's a cool vibe when construction working populations let you be neutrally fine with your own lineal being yours

Car jobs also fine with working and texting my dad between us a lineal convo

And George W Bush did say that gran dashing papí stuff so I felt like i was always still just telling at least gran dashing or papí everything I even thought was happening

Even if the line didn't respond

They at least just had a 17 to I mean sometimes it gets up to like 50 line stream of thoughts where I WANTED THEM TO JUDGE ME

If George W Bush was gonna lie even and say such a phone number existed to be a Gran Dashing Papí line I will text it my own thoughts or wonders or worried up to 50 lines of text before anyone else

I was still horribly attached to my dad to grand dashing line knowing my thoughts by yesterday. And do sometimes when I start getting calls require my every thought call monitored by the combo of the two to feel functional

Before even going outdoors or feeling okay to speak sometimes

That gran dashing papí line must know thoughts for them TO JUDGE then I could feel okay all my life

People say that's psychopath

But what if Gran Dashing Papí line has returned FBI or not creeps. Even if gran dashing papí feels threatened by me, they dont assault when they bring police.