#he has Grown

[poured-my-past-down-the-drain]

Tommy closes the door to the hotel room, twisting the lock as an afterthought.

It’s dark outside — at least as dark as Las Nevadas can be. He can see the moon high in the sky from his window and mobs peeking out between the canopy of the forest, deterred by the bright city lights.

The hotel room is dark, too. Dimly lit by lamps and barely-open offshoot rooms, just enough to keep any skin-crawling at bay. The clock is ticking above the door. 11:50, four seconds. Five seconds. Six seconds. Seven.

He put his bag down on the bed, unzipping to dig around in it. It was a very… well-loved, to say, backpack. A shoddy dark-blue dye that still stains his fingers if he touches it after washing his hands, fraying at the edges, beaten and dented pins along the front, and stuffed to the brim with odds and ends of his life.

Call it paranoia, but after exile, it gave him comfort to know if he needed to run, he could have all his necessities on hand at any given time.

He wasn’t looking for a change of clothes or a trinket bag this time, though. This time, he pulled out a box. Nothing special — just laminated thin cardboard with an order number scrawled on the top. A box, a lighter snatched from Wilbur, and a loose, slightly-crumbly, small candle.

11:55.

Tommy zipped his bag back up and moved it to the floor instead. He didn’t need it right now.

One good thing about Las Nevadas hotel rooms was that every one came with a small kitchenette. Very small, of course, but it was there. Complete with a countertop — the surface that Tommy had moved to and put his box on. Food coloring was annoying to get out of white sheets, so he didn’t want to eat on the bed, and the desk was too close to the window. He didn’t want to set up by the window. Anyone, even Him, could’ve come up through the window if they really wanted to.

He shoved down a tremble in his hands.

Instead, he focused on opening the little box.

It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a nice little treat Tommy had begged his favorite bakery for when he saw it in the window. Swearing up and down he’d pay for it once he had the funds, he’d make up what it would’ve needed, anything, as long as he could take it that night.

The baker had grumbled and caused a fuss, and absolutely quoted Tommy a price way too high for a simple little treat that he’d have to pay back eventually. But in the end, Tommy had gotten it.

A slightly stale apple-pie cupcake. Whatever that meant. It had looked delicious was what mattered.

11:57.

He took a breath.

He put the candle into the frosting, in the center of the lovely little apple-slice circle garnishing the top. He lit it, and the room felt a little less dim and dark. A little less lonely.

The past year had been equal parts the best and worst of his life. He’d spent his last birthday in exile, gifted items by Him that would eventually either hurt him or be taken away as punishment. Fed berries and fruit that was just slightly too rotted, sweet just to the point it was sickeningly so, and— and just in case he had been considering leaving Logstead, wither roses.

He loved using those to zap away Tommy’s energy to leave.

Ashy, awful, sharp. Sometimes the flavor was sweet, too, but often it was just ashy, awful, and sharp. They’d turn into sulfury tar in his throat, congealing and thickening enough it would be hard to breathe past them until he was done, trembling, too exhausted to even think of going anywhere. Begging for company past his tears, begging Him not to leave him alone again, not while he was like this.

And feeling indebted, somehow, when He would stay with Tommy until he fell asleep. Like how Wilbur used to.

But he’d gotten away from Him, too, since his last birthday. He’d died, of course. Died and came back. But so had Wilbur — his brother had come back, and came back to him, too. He got Wilbur back, for better or worse. He made up with Tubbo, even, and became part of that family.

Quackity became part of his daily life. It had been so, so long since Tommy had an adult who didn’t want to see him worse.

If Wilbur had to choose anyone to stay in their lives, Tommy was glad it was Quackity. Quackity and Wilbur were both fucked up but at least they were both too stubborn to leave. Or change, for that matter.

Tommy had even found someone he wanted to keep in his life, too. After plenty of… internal turmoil, of course. But he wanted Tubbo to stay — and the most unbelievable part was that Tubbo wanted him to stay, too.

It had been three hundred and sixty four days and twenty three hours. A lot of time, especially with how fast things could change on the Server. And things still weren’t perfect. But it was so, so much better than it had been a year ago.

11:59, fifty six seconds. Fifty seven. Fifty eight. Fifty nine.

He blew out the candle, and the room fell back into its dimness.

[fellaboo]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RUMOR!!!

I FORGOT TO MENTION ON SEPTEMBER 3RD ITS RUMORS BIRTHDAY!!!

Its a little rushed because I made it in 20 minutes but, ITS MY BABY BOYS B-DAY!!!

[fallenangelmuse]

He is... a very large boy

[farshootergotme]

Occasionally I picture Nightwing calling Red Hood "little wing" in front of others and people looking between this huge, 6'0 feet tall man with growing white hair, and then Nightwing, a shorter man who has flawless skin, probably around his 20's, and a fit but not too buff build and they just- don't know what's happening. Is it some kind of inside joke they aren't aware of? Why is Nightwing acting as if he's years older than Red-fucking jacked-Hood?

Nightwing: Little wing, you actually were decent in that fight! I'm impressed.

Hero, who was helping during this fight as well, listening in to the conversation: little...?

Red Hood: Wow, feeling very appreciated right now. Got any other backhanded compliments in there?

Hero: Wait, excuse me-

Nightwing: As a matter of fact-

Red Hood: Nope! I'm outta here. Screw you!

Nightwing: You know you love me!

Red Hood: In your dreams, dickhead!

Nightwing: Hey! We don't use that-

Red Hood: Not listening!

Nightwing: Jeez, kids these days...

Red Hood: I'm an adult and fuck you too!

Nightwing: What? Thought you weren't-

Red Hood: See you never, I'm out.

Hero: ...

Hero: what the actual fuck?

[beybuniki]

they should go on a fishing trip pt.1

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Mike learns about Michael's awful diet

[regonold]

Danny's flight or fight response has quite the hair trigger for a few select phrases most being things vlad would say

One such being his full name a bit odd but there's a reason he always asks to be called danny

So really it's not his fault after joining the school in gotham he had been introduced to his class and he'd told them to call him danny

And he hadn't heard him all he'd heard was someone calling him danial and putting a hand on his shoulder

So really he can't be blamed for how he reacted he told everyone not to call him Daniel and he snuck up and called him daniel

How can he be blamed for breaking Damien waynes nose

[faeriekit]

I think Alfred needs his own prompt 👻(dp x dc)

Alfred had died.

(It was a bit of a waste of time— he'd been scheduled to get the boys to and from their suit fitting at this time. Now here he was; languishing. Murdered. Sulking, even.)

(How frivolous.)

As a busy man with children (an adult child) to care for, a house to maintain, and a budget to supervise, Alfred's main goal was to return to Earth, obviously. If he left Master Bruce in charge of the dusting, the man would absolutely let the unused parts of the house go into disrepair. Too impatient, his ex-ward was.

The only problem was that in this green, nebulous, and gravity-free afterlife, there seemed to be only one way out— navigating through the individual worlds that the denizens of this world have molded around themselves, until he finds a being willing to grant his wish to return.

Alfred sighed, checked for the pistol at his hip and the rifle on his back, and marched straight upwards. Or. Well. Downwards. Actually... Never mind.

[bluerosefox]

Striking of the Clock

BrainDead or DeadTired idea.

During Tim's BruceQuest he uncovers hidden texts/tombs of a being that controls and watches over the Time Stream and Tim knows this being will have to be his best bet of finding Bruce while also trying to figure out on his own how to get Bruce out of the Time Stream as well.

However the being doesn't have a summoning sigil due to being an Ancient.

He does find the sigil for the Ghost King however, a being that borderlines into Ancients power territory and could in theory grant Tim an audience with the Time being if Tim plays his cards right.

In the end, Tim decides it was worth a shot. He convinces Ra's to 'help' him summon the Ghost King. Ra's wanting to see if such a being could be real and to see how far Tim is willing to go to bring Bruce back, allows League resources to be used.

It takes a few weeks, with Tim also making plans to undermine not just the Council of Spiders but Ra's as well, but eventually the time to summon the Ghost King comes.

Tim honestly was expecting the large eldritch like being that showed up, he just wasn't expecting the being to be basically a formed galaxy mixed with ice and the northern lights itself.

He also really wasn't expecting when he negotiated a deal with the Ghost King, and taken into a place called the Infinite Realms when they shook hands (Tam and Prue is also taken with him, he refused to leave them with Ra's), for the being to shrink down and turn into a white haired, green eyed teen around his age who starts flirting at him.

Nor was he expecting for another being, one that apparently is able to shift aging forms, and a grandfather clock in its chest to appear next to the teen and bonk the white haired teen with a staff and tell him to stop flirting with his future new apprentice....

Wait what?

-x-x-

Danny is rarely, very rarely summoned since taking the mantle of Ghost King. Due to being a new Ancient most old sigils that was once connected to Phantom (mostly teens from Amity tired summoning him a couple of times) no longer worked and the only ones that did were the ones he gave to his friends and family or the Ghost King ones (but again rare due to how rare texts/tombs to the Ghost King is written down)

So when he felt the pull of a summoning he made sure to go in his eldritch form, mostly to see if he could scare them or at least intimidate.

Honestly he was expecting the cult, given the fact they summoned a being known as the (freaking) Ghost King, maybe not them being assassins/ninjas but still a cult.

He wasn't expecting the cute, same age as him too, guy in the room.

(CW totally paused time for a second, gave Danny a file on who and why he was summoned, discussed getting Tim Drake out of Ra's hands (and maybe allowing CW to finally have his own future apprentice because Tim is a smarty smart whose been slowly able to figure out the freaking Time Stream itself.), and then started the timeline again)

Danny decided, after striking a deal, that since he's going to be working with Tim, aka Red Robin (who Danny found out used to be Robin! From Gotham), from now on he might as well shoot his shot and flirt with him and-

"OUCH, CW REALLY?!"

"Stop flirting with my new apprentice for now My King, we have work to do."

[tim-drake-scholar]

Hey idk if anyone else needed this but hey look at Bruce not just giving his approval, not just giving affection, but truly appreciating Tim Drake and everything Tim has every done to help Bruce/Batman. I just think it’s nice

[brushstrokes-art]

au where pit’s a trans girl who hasn’t figured it out yet and then the mirror of truth speedruns dp’s transition. and nothing else changes.

[hedgehog-moss]

The farmer I buy hay (and some firewood) from hasn't had time for deliveries yet, and he texted me yesterday to ask what I needed most urgently, hay or wood. Selflessly, I said hay.

That /is/ the gate for hay deliveries! Great memory, Pirlouit. I see what are the important spots in your mental map.

I hope you realise that I'm sacrificing myself for you. By telling our neighbour to prioritise your food over my comfort.

But even if I didn't, I would prioritise you and your hay because I love you. I would freeze to death to ensure you are fed

Would you share your hay with me, though?

I see.

[seiwas]

you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.

among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.

they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.

(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)

“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.

you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.

he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.

“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”

[nanakorobiyaokii]

ᴡʙᴋ 152 | ꜱᴀᴋᴜʀᴀ ʜᴀʀᴜᴋᴀ

[masterwords]

1x08 | 2x02 | 5x15 | 10x05

quiet everyone, hotch is telling us a story. (because the writers never did.)

[vebokki]

go go demon gang