#not've? is that even a word?

[inkyucu]

Me? Reblogging two things in one day??? Who am I, and what have I done with myself

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

Part 1, Part 2

This is more of Ghost!Robin haunting Jason. This might not've won the poll (if you haven't voted, it's the post right after this one on my blog. But you'll have to come out in numbers to win against the Dead on Main shippers!), but it will feature in both this week's WIP Wednesday and next, so y'all better be happy.

1,100 words

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“If he’s still in the area, you should invite him,” said Dick. “Alfred’s food is to die for.” Robin was hanging upside down next to Dick nodding solemnly.

Danny tried to stop himself, he really did. He even managed to keep from saying he’d been there done that, but he couldn’t keep from laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

From where he was bent over trying to catch his breath, he saw Dick do some sort of spin that ended with him sitting upright on the chair. “Um… Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” Jazz insisted. “He just thinks he’s hilarious. He had an accident when he was younger with electricity and his heart stopped. But after a few months his condition stabilized and now he’s stronger than ever.”

Through his laughs, Danny gasped, “If— If I hadn’t died… Mom and Dad… And you never, Gotham.”

Jazz turned away from him and hid her face in Jason’s neck. Danny just got himself under control when he noticed her shoulders shaking slightly.

He lost it again, Jazz following just behind.

Someone was saying “I’m confused” but someone else joined in their laughter. Danny looked up and saw it was Jason. And Robin. He liked them both already.

“Sorry, sorry,” gasped Danny once he had enough breath to do so. “Amity Parkers have a morbid sense of humor.”

“Tt, I hardly believe your heart stopping then medical intervention saving your life can count as you actually dying.” Damian had a sneer on his face and Danny already didn’t like him.

But rather than engage, he just shrugged. “It was close enough that the ghosts back home like me more’n most.” He wiped his eyes to get rid of the tears.

“I like you, kid. Great sense of humor.” Jason reached around Jazz to ruffle his hair; Danny swatted the hand away.

“Ghosts?” asked Cass.

“Yes, of course,” said Jazz. “Amity Park, the most haunted town in America.”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” argued Damian.

“Do you really need to play up the tourist gimmick even around friends?” added Tim.

“Tourist gimmick? We hate outsiders.” Danny didn’t even bother responding to the comment about ghosts not existing.

“Why do you dislike outsiders so much?” asked Bruce.

With a shrug, Jazz answered, “It’s hard to explain, but outsiders just don’t fit in in Amity.”

Danny let himself look at Robin who was sitting on the back of the couch behind Jason. “Jason might be an exception, though. Have you taken him home yet?”

“No, but I’ve been wanting to. Just… Jack and Maddie.” Jazz did take their betrayal so much harder than Danny had.

“Fair. Tell you what, give me a list of weeks you two can arrange to get off and I’ll make sure Mom and Dad are out of Amity for at least one of them.”

Jason leaned around Jazz to ask, “Why are you so sure I’d fit in in Amity?”

Obviously he couldn’t say it was because Jason was haunted and liminal, so all he said was, “Oh, you’ve got the vibes. You’ll understand it when you get there. Just… Listen to Jazz? It isn’t really safe if you try and do your own thing.”

Around them, various conversations developed and Danny let Jazz take over describing the places in Amity she wanted to show Jason. Instead, he watched Robin interact with the wider group.

The ghost kept trying to get the attention of someone, anyone, in the Wayne family. But his efforts focused on Bruce and Dick. He was clearly haunting Jason, though, and it feels like they might be sharing ectoplasm somehow.

Danny really wanted to pull out his Ecto-tracker, based off the Fenton Finder but far more sensitive and accurate. Instead, he just moved his bag closer to him.

“We can store that somewhere so you don’t have to carry it around with you,” offered Tim who must’ve seen the motion.

“Oh, that’s okay. Mr. Alfred already offered. I feel more comfortable having my bag with me.”

“What are you carrying around?” he asked.

“Bit of everything, to be honest. Laptop, PDA, chargers, first aid kit, granola bars, medicines, change of clothes, things I need for my job.”

Jason asked over Jazz’s head, “What is your job? Jazz never shares specifics, just that it keeps you too busy to visit or call very often.”

Robin was now staring at him with a grin and making amused trills. It took all of Danny’s self control to not snark at him.

“I do contract work.” It was his default answer on Earth. It was even sort-of true. If he squinted and tilted his head. Robin did not look impressed by his answer.

“I… Don’t know what that means,” admitted Jason. “What field do you work in?”

Danny waved a hand in the air. “Ancients, easier to ask what I don’t do! I build or repair things. I’m good at finding people. I help others get where they need to go. I’ve done babysitting before. I’m called in to deescalate or otherwise resolve conflicts. Basically, if someone needs assistance with something, I do it. Or I know someone who can.”

“Why do you swear by these ‘Ancients?’” asked Damian.

“It’s another ghost thing. But you don’t believe in ghosts, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Jazz swears by them, too,” added Jason.

Tim elbowed Damian who stood and actually pulled a knife on his brother. Not only was this kid liminal, he definitely had some ghostly instincts. “Woah, that’s enough, Damian!” ordered Dick as he positioned himself between the two.

Damian allowed Dick to take the blade, though he continued to glare at Tim. “Then tell Drake to not touch me again.”

Tim rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever,” as he moved closer to Danny and Jazz. To Danny, he asked, “So, what sort of things do you build?”

Danny decided Damian’s ghost instincts weren’t worth commenting on at the moment and just answered the question. “Oh, I can build anything.” Pulling out his PDA, he unlocked it and handed it to Tim. “My partner Tucker and I designed these. All the capabilities of a smartphone without the need for a cellular plan. Plus durable enough to survive being run over by a tank. And it gets service anywhere.”

Tim wasted no time in navigating the device’s capabilities. “What is this UI? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Tucker designed it. He’s a genius with software. I’m the hardware guy.”

Tim asked more details on the specs of the PDA which Danny happily answered. The things he built with Tucker were always his favorite inventions.

Tag list!

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Part 4

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost

I think that's everyone! Let me know and I'll add you.

[cryptidsofwakemoor]

Chapter 10 - Paranoia

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that."

~*~

Mystic

Tikki works on her own omelet in comfortable silence, letting her guest relax by the fire while she filled her own egg patty with her additions of choice. Once her folded egg taco was on the plate, she drizzled some kind of red liquid over top of it, and took up those metal tools he could never quite understand the purpose of. Lifting her plate, she goes to sit at the couch, and- uses the tiny knife and spoked thing to poke and cut her omelet, eating it off the utensils.

Oh. That’s what they were for. She didn’t need to get food on her hands at all.

…

“Have you been on the streets your whole life?” Tikki asks, quiet.

Spooky

He looks up from watching her cut the omelet and poke it with the pronged thing, before frowning a little and shaking his head no.

No, being on the streets was a relatively new thing for him. In a way, he had kind of lucked out that adaptability was part of his training, otherwise he may not've survived very long, but... This probably wasn't what they had in mind while training him. It was more for use in battle.

He glances down at the floor in front of him, wishing he still had the snow and stick to help him explain things. The best thing he could do for now, though, was try and sum up everything he could into one word, and force it out of his uncooperative throat.

"L.. ll- laa... b," he rasps, looking back at her.

Mystic

Tikki, who had been mid-bite of her own omelet, chokes on the piece of food. She has to pound on her chest for a second before the food is dislodged, and she can breathe again.

In just one word, that was- quite a bit of information to swallow. Just like her omelet.

"I'm- hkf- sorry," Tikki apologizes, rubbing at her throat for a moment. "You- wh- but- how-? You came from a lab? Excuse me? As in- wait-"

She frowns, staring into space. He can see it in her eyes- she was putting together a lot of puzzle pieces. She sets aside the plate, losing her appetite in this moment.

"...that- suddenly a lot of things make sense. But- why were you in a lab?"

Spooky

He looked alarmed when she choked on her food, but once she'd dealt with that enough to ask him more questions, he ducked his head slightly and slid his hand over the nape of his neck. He gave a small shrug, mainly because he didn't know how he'd got there. He couldn't really remember being anywhere else, leading him to think that maybe he was born there…? Though there were some things he could just barely recall that seemed to contradict that.

He knew what trees were, before he’d even escaped. They'd never let him outside, not once, but he could picture outside, sometimes in dreams... And there were other things, too. Faded voices and shapes, and strong emotions attached that left him feeling lost, scared, and like he'd been hollowed out whenever he thought about it too hard.

So usually, he didn't.

All he had for an answer as to why he was there was what they were developing him for.

"...w... wepn," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact and looking back at the burning fireplace.

Mystic

...There's a long pause.

Even though he wasn't facing her, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Analyzing.

Behind his back, the scales on the back of Tikki's arm start to stand on end. She clasps at her forearms with her hands, clenching her jaw as she wills the beast back into the depths, forcing the scales back down.

The thought, and all the implications it carried, made her so, so angry. But she just got back to normal from a shift- if she let it happen again so soon, it would exhaust her. She'd be so depleted of energy that she wouldn't want to move for a week, and she wasn't in a position to let that happen anymore.

"...Okay," she says, finally. A brief, forceful exhale as she quells her outrage for his sake. "I see why you ran away, now."

Tikki puts her chin in one hand, thinking. Then her eyes flick to the door. Then back to him in worry.

"...Am I gonna get in trouble with the law or something if someone finds out you're in my house? Are YOU in trouble with whoever you ran from?"

Not that she was particularly bothered by the idea of someone reprehensible showing up at the door. She'd welcome the opportunity to feed someone a knuckle sandwich and have it be sweet justice. But not at the cost of somebody else being put in danger.

Spooky

Feeling her staring, he glanced back at her, worried he'd made her angry at him. He could sense the tension, and his eyes turned downwards as he fidgeted with his hands.

Her questions didn't assuage his nerves any, either... because he had, if only for a brief time due to the distractions and curious things in this house, forgotten he was being hunted.

He was hesitant to answer, worried that confirming this fact would get him thrown out. Tikki was nice, but to get involved in anything like this seemed like too much to ask of anyone.

He didn't know what this 'law' was, but he knew the Aria Corporation was big, and they had a lot of resources. Hell, their damn logo still haunted him whenever he sneaked into town, never truly letting him forget that he wasn't safe.

...It wasn't fair not to tell her, though. To not at least try and warn her about what she was getting into if she let him stay in her home.

Looking conflicted, he finally nodded. Setting aside his disc, he reached down and tried to trace a shape on the rug with his finger, but it wasn't very clear.

Mystic

A long, sad sigh.

"...ok. I figured."

Tikki glances at the rug, leaning to see what he was drawing- but she couldn't make anything out from here. Hm. Maybe he was just doodling from the stress. She did sorta put him on the spot, all of the sudden.

"...well, I'm not going to just let you freeze to death in the snow," she says, frowning. "And whoever uses a kid test subject for scientific experiments is super fucked up, I'll tell you that."

Standing up from the couch, she moves to sit on the rug next to him, scooting a bit closer so she's near enough for expression of comfort, but just at the edge of his personal space. She looks down at the carpet as she talks, idly trying to decipher his finger-drawing on the floor.

"I don't have much to offer, Sticks. I do have a roof, and food, sometimes. I don't make a lot of money, and I'm dealing with my own demons- but I'd still like to help you, somehow. If you want it?"

Spooky

He doesn't seem able to get the tracing of his finger across, so he stops. The best that could be deciphered from it was that he seemed to be writing an 'A' for part of it. If he was trying to make a word, though, the rest of the scrawl was incomprehensible. There didn't seem to be any other letters, and even the A was kind of questionable.

He looked unsure at her offer, not because he was keen on turning his figurative nose up at it though. Moreso, he was worried. She already had stress from turning into the silver beast, and didn't have much money, and... he didn't know what 'demons' were, but that didn't sound good either.

...

But at the same time, he didn't wanna go back to taking his chances in that hole in the ground. Not after he knew what being in a warm house on a soft rug, with not one but TWO blankets was like.

His eyes searched her expression. She really did seem to want to help...

He hugged his pillow close and gave a little nod, before resting his chin on it.

Mystic

He feels more than sees her hand clasp onto his shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance before letting go.

"Okay," she says, offering him a little smile. "I'll do what I can."

Tikki leans back to the couch again, and takes her plate with the half-eaten omelet. She sets it on the carpet and slides it over to him, letting it rest by his knee.

"Here- you can have the rest of mine. I wasn't very hungry, anyway."

A lie. Shifting consumed a lot of calories she had to replenish, which she had every intention of doing so later when he was asleep or something. But right now, she lost her appetite. At least this way the food wouldn't go to waste.

Tikki stands up, stretching her shoulders and wiggling her webbed toes.

"I don't know a lot about you, and that's fine- you don't have to share what you don't want to." Tikki scratches behind her head, starting back towards the kitchen to start cleaning. "Just let me know how I can best help you, alright?"

Spooky

He looked from the offered omelet half to her, before he picked it up with his hand and stuffed it in his mouth, licking the remaining red sauce off his fingers. This had a different taste than his, but was still good!

He didn't seem as keen to get up, covered in fluffy blankets as he was. While he wasn't full, his stomach was no longer empty, and going from being outside in the snow with almost no clothes for most of the day to taking a hot bath and sitting all bundled up next to a roaring fireplace... Sleepiness was definitely setting in, and his eyelids drooped.

He nodded in response to her, rubbing at one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Th... thanks," he said, straining to try and be louder since she had walked back to the kitchen. Oof, probably wasn't the best idea. Fuck, he wished he could figure out how to fix his broken voice. It'd been a long time since he'd heard what it sounds like normally, but he knew it wasn't supposed to sound like this.

Mystic

Tikki glances back in his direction at the sound of the voice crack. Ouch. That sounded very unpleasant. Did speaking cause him pain? Maybe his throat was damaged from... whatever happened to him in the 'lab'.

She tried not to think about it. He wasn't there, now.

"It's no trouble," she says, offering another smile as she removes the pan to wash it. "Nobody should have to live on the street- especially not kids."

In the background, Tikki quietly goes about making some hot apple cider. It was just a cheap packet mix, but it was easy, and fast. The water boils gently on the stove while she cleans up the containers of omelet fillings, and puts away all the washed dishes once she'd dried them with a kitchen towel.

She is left to ponder in silence for a while. He'd never seen silverware, didn't know how to feed or take care of himself. Laboratories that tested on humans- at least, he might be human, she really wasn't sure- evidently still existed, and were doing shady shit like turning children into weapons. That was the most she could ascertain from his broken speech and limited information. Whoever was responsible, they were probably out looking for this kid. And if she was caught with him in custody, if she was lucky, she'd be left alone- but he would no doubt be taken back to whatever hell he endured.

She had seen the rocky injuries all over his back. She couldn't begin to comprehend what would cause that. It looked a little better after he was able to bathe, but there was still a substantial amount of rock crust covering his spine. She was hesitant to touch it, or ask about it in case it was sensitive.

Steam hisses from the kettle, and she turns off the stove burner. Water is poured into mugs, and Tikki shakes out the cider mix into the mugs, pouring honey into both. Stirring them with spoons, she walks back out into the living room to check on him.

"I've got hot cider, for your throat," she says, rounding the couch.

Spooky

He looked like he'd gone into almost a kind of sleepy trance, watching the flames dance on the logs...

But he perked back up a little when Tikki returned with- Oh! He'd seen these before, sometimes he would see people at the lab walking or standing around with these little handled cylinders in their hands, usually in the hallways when he was being transported to another area. He never knew what was in them, but they had a nice smell...

These smelled good too, but in a different way. When Tikki handed one over to him, he took it and held it in both hands, peering down at the unfamiliar drink. Unsure how to proceed, he dipped his tongue into it to give it a taste.

Mystic

The immediate taste was sweet, with a hint of spice that wasn't quite the same as the red thing he ate earlier. What did Tikki call it? 'Pepper'? This was different. It was hot, though, and the little bit he managed to swallow off his own tongue actually soothed his aching throat a little, more than water had up until this point.

Tikki, seeing this, chuckles into her own mug that she had just lifted to her face.

"Okay, that was pretty cute," she says, snickering. "And you have a lava tongue?? Weird, and cool. But yeah- you drink it like this."

Tikki demonstrates, holding the mug in her hands up to her chin and tipping it back a little, taking a gulp of the liquid inside before tipping it back down, swallowing with a satisfied exhale.

"It has honey in it, which is a natural remedy for throat problems," she explains, sipping more of her own drink before continuing. "I've had to use it before when shifting damaged my voice for a day or two. Should help, I think. And if it gets too cold, you can always reheat it."

Spooky

He flushed with a faint glow at her comments, but did his best to mimic the demonstration, slowly tipping and attempting a sip with a noisy slurp.

...Holy shit! A way to drink without getting it all over himself! He looked down at the mug with big eyes full of wonder. This was awesome!

He was quick to drink the rest of it down, steam spilling from his mouth when he lowered the mug and exhaled afterwards. The honey coated his throat, making it feel less sore after his attempts to talk. His glowing tongue poked out again, licking his lips.

Mystic

Another chuckle from Tikki.

"I mean this in the best way- you're like a big puppy," she jokes, watching the steam puff up towards her ceiling. "A lanky, fire-breathing puppy."

Sipping her cider, she sighs, getting up from the carpet one last time.

"You look ready to pass out, so I'm going to let you rest. You can use the couch, or stay on the carpet, whatever you feel like- sleep well, Sticks."

And with that, she walks off to the rest of her house, presumably to wind down for the rest of her afternoon. It wasn't far past midday, but she'd had an exhausting morning, and she figured he did as well.

Spooky

His expression briefly turned to confusion as he tried to figure out what a puppy was, but he shrugged it off, setting down the now empty mug. He was very sleepy, and probably would've been content to just sleep next to the fireplace, though without anything to prop him up he kept slowly listing to the side until he'd jerk back upright with a start.

He let out a tired grumble and crawled like a blankety slug across the floor until he was at the couch, where he leaned back against the side of it. It was definitely softer than the dirt had been, and the blankets added extra cushioning. Hugging the pillow close, he curled up and rested his head on it, so cozy that he drifted off in no time.

...

"You really thought you could just leave... Didn't you?"

His eyes shot open at the familiar cold voice of the ponytailed man, Dr. Rainer... but he didn't see him anywhere when he looked around the living room. It was nighttime now and the fireplace had gone out, bathing the room in darkness, and any warmth seemed to have been sucked out of the house along with it.

Then, a red dot appeared in the window. Followed by another, then another, and they continued to multiply until they were peering in through every window, swarming, a buzzing sound reverberating off the walls and leaving him rattled. Drones.

With a smash of glass they set upon him, giving him barely even any time to stand before they were already on him, a writhing mass of buzzing motors and claw arms, reaching and scratching and grabbing. He managed to fight back, blasting them with fire and setting his fists crunching into metal when they got too close, but there were always more to take their place.

"No matter where you scurry off to, you can never truly abandon your purpose. You know that, don't you?"

Metal parts crunched underfoot as he continued to doggedly fight against a neverending onslaught, pouring in through the windows like wasps from a nest.

Suddenly, another piercing pain lanced through the back of his neck, near the base of his skull, his vision blurring and going white for a few moments as he was brought to his hands and knees.

When he opened his eyes again, the drones were gone, and the room was quiet... But as he remained there, trying to catch his breath, he realized something very quickly. He couldn't move.

"Stand."

To his dawning horror, he stood up. Without trying to. His body was moving without his input. His eyes wouldn't even budge when he tried to look around.

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that. Now... Destroy."

NO!

It was too late. Fire sparked and climbed up his limbs, engulfing his body in flames that started to catch on the floor around him. He raised his arms and sent blasts of fireballs careening around him, smashing walls and furniture, anything not annihilated on impact would perish in the blaze... The walls buckled in the inferno. Chunks of ceiling fell. This house was done for, and everyone in it, including Tikki.

And as he distantly heard her screams, he felt...

nothing.

-!!!

Heart hammering in his chest, his eyes opened for real this time and he sat bolt upright with a gasp, prompting a coughing fit. Smoke spiraling out of his mouth, he tried to catch his breath and regain his bearings.

Mystic

The house is quiet. Besides his panting breaths and his heart trying to decide if it wanted to break his ribcage and escape, there was no sound beyond the distant hum of the heater in the walls. The fire- which appeared to have had an extra log placed on it at some point- had burned low until all that was left were charred husks, and a pile of glowing embers. It produced only a faint pop and hiss, along with the lightest aura of remaining warmth.

The house is dark. Just like in his nightmare- but there's no voice to taunt him in the shadows. The windows, which had been an open view out into the world, were covered by thick drawn curtains. Nothing could see inside, not even the searching cameras of the drones he knew were looking for him out in the city. No light is leaking past the borders of those curtains, either. He'd passed out somewhere around noon. Had he slept so long that it was nighttime?

The house is empty. Tikki is nowhere to be seen. A door at the far end of the corridor across the living room is shut. Perhaps she was there, or perhaps she left.

A hand flies quickly to the back of his neck-

-and he feels nothing. No robotic devices, no grasping claw-like limbs, no collar, and no needle stabbing into his skin. All that he finds is... the pre-existing injection site, that had long since healed over.

He was alone with his blankets and his pillow, a dying fire in the fireplace, and the lingering terror of the nightmare.

Spooky

Despite the realization that it had been a bad dream, and that there were no threats in sight, he still felt almost afraid to move for a while. He pulled the blankets up around him like it was a barrier, camouflage to hide him from whatever lurked through his imagination.

Still, he couldn't go back to sleep. Not without making sure everything was okay... So holding the pillow and clutching one of the blankets around him, he got up and checked the perimeter, wandering through the living room and down the hall, peeking in through the doors just to be safe.

Mystic

…So far, everything seemed to be clear.

The kitchen still smelled like the food Tikki made earlier - ‘om-lets’, or something. The burners in the stove were off, and all the dishes had been cleaned and returned to their rightful places.

The living room was the same. The book he picked up still sat haphazardly on the stack when he set it aside. The fire was still dying, the firewood stack neatly piled.

The windows were unshattered; no glass or broken drones littered the floor from his imagined combat. Peeking beyond the curtains showed a gentle fall of snow from the sky, and a dark, starless night filled with clouds.

…

Paying close attention to the house let him notice a few things. The scratches from the driveway were present here, too- they had been spackled and repaired wherever possible, but the signs of wear persisted. Wooden furniture was bent or scored in places, as if something big had clumsily scraped by it. These must be the signs of whenever Tikki transforms against her will, identical to what he found outside. This was a small abode to contain the oversized- whatever it is she turns into.

The door at the end of the hall has the most prominent damage, where the frame is buckled up and outward in a couple places, and the hinges had been repaired multiple times.

What did she say again? ’Shifting outside sucks because she can’t fit through the door,’ or something.

…There’s a faint buzzing sound coming from the door. She was probably asleep, oblivious to his nighttime panic.

Spooky

The sound was sort of like the breathing noises she made while asleep as the silver beast, but smaller... It wasn't like the buzz of drones, this was far less harsh and only happened at intervals instead of continuously. Still, just in case, he listened for a bit, before gathering up the nerve to open the door just a crack and peek inside.

Mystic

The inside of Tikki’s room was also dark, all lights in the room turned off save for a single lamp in the shape of a spiny fish plugged into a wall socket. There were more plants in hanging pots, some with flowers that wafted a sweet scent. A fan overhead spun in a slow circle. Against one wall was a tank full of water, plants, pebbles, and several small fish that flitted about once the light from his eyes was upon them. A filter hummed quietly on the tank, the only other notable sound in the room.

On the bed was Tikki, fast asleep. She was haphazardly wrapped in a thick blanket of her own, and what was visible of her arms and legs was covered in some sort of cloth outfit with more fish stitched onto it. She had a book open next to her on the bed. Thin red lines on the sides of her neck produced the buzzing sound he’d been hearing, every time she breathes. Was that how she snores?

The fish in the tank all swim at once towards the corner nearest the bed, swimming frantically at the tank glass.

Tikki grunts, her snore sputtering as she reaches up and rubs at her face with one hand. Moving to sit up, she looks first towards the tank. A pause, ear fins twitching, before she looks towards the door. The mermaid squints, her eyes reflecting the light from the doorway as she sleepily processes.

”Nghf- Sticks…? I see… your eyes glowing.”

Spooky

The glowing eyes peering from the doorway glance to the side self-consciously and duck behind the door, though after a few moments, one came peeking back into view.

Yeah, she'd seen him, there was no point hiding. The door opened more and he stood in the threshold, huddled in his blanket, his tallness diminished in appearance somewhat by his nervous, slumped posture. He squeezed his pillow underneath his arm.

"S... sorry," he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the fish tank filter. "Checking... if safe." The honey must have helped somewhat, that was the most talking he'd managed in one go since they'd met!

Mystic

There's a pause as Tikki's sleepy brain works its way through what he just said.

"Oh..." she mumbles, yawning- and revealing a mouth absolutely full of sharp teeth. "It's... ok, Sticks. It's just you, me, and the guppies... they started yellin' the moment you-" another yawn "-opened the door."

She rubs at her face again, this time with both hands.

"You gonna- be ok...? Can you go back- to sleep...?"

Spooky

Guppies? He looked at the fish in the tank, though he hadn't heard them make any noise, let alone yell. He blinked, but turned his attention back to Tikki.

He nodded, but it was clear by how he was carrying himself that he was hesitant to go back to sleep. He was still tired, but fear had put him in a state of alertness despite that. Backing up from the door, he turned to go back down the hall. Maybe if he couldn't sleep, he could at least keep watch...

Mystic

"Wait."

Tikki grunts, scooting to the edge of her bed and rolling her legs over the side. She adjusts the sleeves of her colorful cloth attire, and digs around in her blankets. She removes something lumpy and plush from the bundle of blankets, standing up to approach the door.

"Here," Tikki says, holding out the object to him. "Holding this helped me relax when I first started living on land instead of the sea."

It was a stuffed lizard of some sort, but it had tiny plush spines on its back and a little pair of plush wings. Fabric fangs poked out of a sewn mouth underneath tiny black bead eyes.

"His name is Slithers. Maybe he'll help you feel safe, too."

Spooky

His glowing eyes blinked in the dark like two half-covered spotlights as he picked up the little soft... creature? He didn't know what it was, but it didn't seem to be alive. It appeared to be made out of the same kind of soft stuff the pillow was. The fabric that made up its plush hide had some kind of a spotted pattern that glimmered in the light of his eyes, like scales. Whatever this fake creature was, its appearance was endearing, and he smiled a little despite his anxiety.

He nestled it between the pillow and his body and gave a little nod to Tikki in thanks.

As he made his way back to the couch, he thought about what Tikki had said. She used to live in the sea... But what was that, exactly? A different town? He wondered how often she had to move. She had to hide too, right? If people found him scary to look at, they would absolutely find the silver beast to be scarier...

Getting to the couch, he took another look around the room. Still all clear. He was about to settle back down where he'd been before, when he stopped, noticing how his hand sunk down on the cushion of the couch when he started to kneel down on the rug. His eyes widened, and he squished the cushion with his hand.

This thing had pillows on it!

He got back up, and almost as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do this or not, he cautiously sat on the couch instead, curling up in the crook of the couch's arm. It felt like he had more defenses this way, being in a corner- and it was a very soft and squishy corner. It was like he was gonna sink into it, but he didn't- not enough to be alarming, anyway. This was a good spot...

Snuggling down in the blankets all curled up and hugging his legs, with the pillow and plush sandwiched between the front of his torso and the back of his thighs, he sat there in quiet comfort until he finally began to doze off again...

Mystic

...This time, he's unbothered by nightmares, or even dreams. The comforting blackness of exhaustion envelops him, and for now, he's allowed to sleep in the peaceful silence of nothingness.

~*~

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New reader? You can start here!

[anirritant]

(This a continuation of previous events found here and here. Also uhh this got longer than I thought and a bit edgier than I planned oops....)

(TW for mentions of torture and murderous intent I guess??? my guy is less-than-hinged lmao. it doesn't go too in-depth)

Okay. Darkrai... hadn't expected this, but, he can't say he doesn't understand how the other him was acting. He knows now that he'd been too hasty in his excitement, babbling and possibly coming across as, well, mildly deranged. He'd usually have more tact, okay? He's had a terribly long day filled with scheming and manipulating and battling and, ahem, acting. As well as a particularly turbulent travel through time, to top off everything else. Could you blame him for slipping a bit when he hasn't been permitted any rest?

So, yes, he certainly may have come across as rather off-putting. Depending on just how far in the past he's been sent, this version of him may not have even thought of messing with time yet, making his claims seem rather out-of-nowhere. Or, the other may believe him to be an illusionary impostor, not being experienced enough to easily see through those cheap tricks (that are, of course, not cheap when used by himself,) like he can now.

He knew exactly why the other reacted like this -- centuries of being endlessly backstabbed would lead anyone to being quite distrustful, and clearly those centuries are fresh memories for his previous self. Centuries more had it taken to refine his ability to pick out truths from deception, and he's led to believe that the other lacks those many latter years of experience.

Though, even extensive experience in detecting a lack of untruths may not've have been enough to mitigate suspicion. If he had been met by his future self who fervently divulged plans to team up for world domination, he'd be ecstatic! Which, of course, would lead straight into suspicion because nothing ever goes his way like that. It'd sound too good to be true. So, yes, he can understand.

But that didn't make it any less irritating and demeaning. Him, HIM, elicitor of nightmares and despair, being dragged about by his hair like an unruly hatchling!? If it weren't necessary to prove he's on the other's side, (if he weren't too injured to fight back,) he'd be tearing the insolent fool to shreds!

As it is, he flails and shrieks indignantly.

"What are you DOING!?", he cries, grabbing at the claws entangled in his hair, "We're on the same side! We have the same goals -- or, well, they aren't your goals yet, but they will be!"

The other simply ignores him and continues pulling him along as he defiantly rakes his legs into the dirt in an ineffective attempt to slow them both. The other glares at the sight of the ruined grass left in their trail but says nothing, continuing to drag him towards the edge of the island, in the opposite direction of the larger landmass. Towards the closer island he'd spotted before.

Ignoring him... Ignoring him!? The nerve--! Had he truly possessed such arrogance in his youth!?

... Well. Don't answer that.

He still hasn't stopped sputtering and ranting even after they've left the land behind and begun traversing the water, forcing him to begin floating as well lest he get his legs wet. And his past self still hasn't said anything! He'd find the self-restraint admirable and compliment himself for it -- the other's accomplishments are his accomplishments, after all -- if it weren't utterly infuriating! He should be using this time allowing his strength to return and concocting a new plan for a global apocalypse, not... this!

Feeling exceptionally petty, he abruptly stops supporting his own weight around three minutes into their traversal over water. He'd been remarkably agreeable so far, he'd say, but he's reached his limit. If his past self was so intent on ignoring his words, and so intent on dragging him who-knows-where, then the other can support the weight of both of them. Hmph.

Next thing he knew, he was being dunked into the water.

He coughed and spat and gagged and wheezed as he shot himself upwards, only to get rudely yanked back down by the hair again. The other had finally paused their journey, and instead was... laughing! At HIM! No, he's had enough, he cannot let this slide! He is the other's senior by centuries, he is the authority here, he would NOT be laughed at!

"You... Y-you--!!" He cut himself off as he started violently heaving again, producing even more laughter from the other.

His breathing became ragged and harsh, a low, animalistic growl ripping from his throat. His claws clenched so hard it was painful and he suspected he had drawn blood, but he didn't care to check.

Now. Darkrai had had a very long, very tiring, exhausting, humiliating, wretched day. But he'd weaseled his way out of it, he thought. He'd gotten out alive, he was somewhere away from those that would've ended him, somewhere even he hadn't recognised, somewhere they would be very hard-pressed to find. Somewhere to rest, regain his strength, and plan another attempt.

Even better, he found who he was certain would be an ally to him. Who better to team up with than himself? No one else would ever understand the unbridled hate bubbling away inside him, no one else would ever share a desire for his ideal world, he'd accepted that and decided long ago that he simply didn't quite care about what others thought.

But now he had someone that would understand, right? Someone he could talk to, right? Someone he could rule the world alongside, right? Someone to treat him with respect for once in his horrid, cursed existence? Right?

So why, why, even now, is humiliation still all he ever endures?

In mere seconds his fury had turned downright murderous. He'd tried explaining himself, he'd avoided violence, he'd tried what amounts to his version of being nice, simply because he was dealing with his own immature self. But his efforts were ignored, and he was reduced to something to laugh at. Of course. Of course! It's nothing new, is it!? Nothing ever changes. Nothing, nothing, nothing. No respect for Darkrai, never ANY respect for Darkrai!

The abrupt urge to kill the prompter of that infernal chorus of phantom laughter echoing in his head was overwhelming. Were it any other being in existence his rage was directed towards, he would have, right there, right now. His claws were trembling, not from the sopping cold, but from the sheer effort it took to not clamp them around that neck and squeeze.

But he cannot. That would have disastrous consequences for himself, and he couldn't have that. And that's fine. Yes, that's fine. Fine.

Because he has a better idea. A much, much better idea.

A delirious calm washes over him. Yes, it's okay that he can't strangle the other to death, you see? His past, young, silly self simply needs guidance. Needs to be taught respect, needs to have the grave error pointed out, needs to recognise the difference in power, the inferiority to him.

There's a proven formula for this. Proven to him, and then by him, again and again and again over his several-millennia-long existence. It always proves true, always, that the only reliable path to respect is to instil sheer, abject terror.

He cannot truly kill the other, but, in his domain, in a nightmare? He can kill, over, and over, and over again. He's done so countless times, in the most creative of ways, and he never grew sick of it. He'd go on and on and on, until his victims lose the energy to scream, and then still on and on some more. He hasn't hated enough to subject a victim to such torment in a while. He'll savour every second...

The other will try to wrench control away from him, he's certain. Drawing upon the same power, attempting to loosen his iron grip, and failing miserably in a way that cements his place at the top. He is older, he is better, more experienced, superior. He will make it happen. He will. He will.

The other has long-since stopped laughing even as the phantom chorus continues, and is instead eyeing him with confusion and a touch of concern. Hah. Hahah. A bit late for that, he thinks.

With a wheezed, stuttering chuckle of his own, he summons the beginnings of his Dark Void to his claws, already vividly picturing just how he'd go about splintering a mind to pieces this time around. A bit of physical torture, then psychological torment, followed by some obliteration of the sense of self -- that was always so very funny to watch, hah, hah...

...

Why was the world spinning?

He hadn't noticed, too absorbed in his vengeful thoughts, but the summoned Dark Void had barely flickered into existence before weakly petering out. He simply didn't have the strength. The exhaustion, the injuries, a jet-lag equivalent for portal travel, and a touch of possible hypothermia had combined to make him quite frail and ill, and the attempt to draw upon his power only sapped away at what little strength remained.

He was teetering in the air even though he was still being held up by its claws, his eyes unfocused as his body shivered and dripped. The other now felt bad for laughing -- he was clearly much less well than he had seemed. Is that why he had stopped maintaining his own hover, before? They had assumed it was a spiteful act and had therefore allowed him to fall... now they felt really bad.

Why hadn't he just said he was unwell?

Pride, its thoughts hummed immediately. If anything was clear about this supposed "future self" of theirs, it was that he was self-absorbed to a comical degree, and utterly seethed when he wasn't the one in control. He was... well, rather foul and unlikeable and very untrustworthy; the mere thought of him insisting the two of them were the same was skin-crawling. But he was unwell, all the same.

The Darkrai that was not on the brink of collapse looked to the distant island, still quite a ways away. Around two hours if one was travelling alone, but if, say, one had to carry around an unconscious double of themself, it'd be quite a lot longer and more exhausting.

With a sigh, they came to a decision. It wouldn't be ideal treatment, but there was a small stash of medical supplies available, if they returned. It would've been much more preferable to visit Cresselia sooner, but it seems that these ailments need addressing immediately rather than after over two hours of travel. So, for now, a careful Hypnosis lulls the injured to sleep as they carry him back to Newmoon Island.

He'd been so out of it that he hadn't noticed to protest... rather sad.

And, no, the look of murderous rage and the feeble attempt to use Dark Void had not gone unnoticed. A cautionary Disable was cast as well.

[gubbles-owo]

Since the reptilian tails are well taken care of let's get some words on Provence and... everyone's favourite Archetto. Clearly her tail as all the most superiour qualities, right?🥺

hh-hh-h eyp rovence couldi..,. maby e.... ,?

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLESAE PLEASE *ahem* yeah hers is alright ig. Provence tail rating: i am going to sleep in it .....meme entry aside, yeah, Provence not only has a rather long and delightfully floofy tail, but she is (to my knowledge anyway) the only operator that openly invites you to touch it. This on its own is incredible tbh, but it is also purple, which as we all know doubles its desirability. I will say, the way her tail is drawn kind makes it looked like it's clumped or grouped in thicker strands, like it kinda looks a bit messy? But in a good way. She's runnin around sticking her nose in volcanoes and whatnot, thing's bound to get tangled. Looks like it has some significant weight to it, but I might be wrong there. I really really want to see this thing in motion tbh. Get a sense of how that thing follows and flows around in everyday life. I wonder... if under specific wind conditions, that her tail ever interferes with her aim out on the field... Also does she do the thing where she tucks her tail up between her legs and hugs it like a pillow while sleeping? Cause like. If you're not doing that with your fluffy-as-fuck tail then what's the point?? Fuck it that's canon now. i the almighty and powerful gubbles decree it. SO SHALL IT BE. Archetto doesn't seem to have very much reference that shows off her tail, but you did provide some interesting details I never would've caught (after i asked if you had more reference, of course)

Definitely one of the thinner tails out there, so I can't say I'm personally too excited about this one from a structural point of view. HOWEVER: with such a light weight and size I imagine it must be very expressive. That's kinda the fun part about tails, y'know? Much like posture or fidgets, they're yet another avenue for body language to come forth, another little insight about a particular person you might not've been able to infer without. (that said i honestly do not know much about archetto as a character so i'm going entirely off of vibes here LMFAO)

Apparently she tucks the end of her tail behind her ear while sitting!! This is stupid cute. Adorable, even. What that fancy lil' tail doin' there

[l1tw1ck]

Little Thoma

You catch your younger step-brother masturbating

FTM!Thoma x Top!Male Reader

Request | Kinktober

Contains: Non-Con, Pseudo-Incest (Step-Brothers), Voyeurism, Dacryphilia, Rough Sex

Words: 712 | Reader Discretion is Advised

──────────────────

You come home earlier than usual, ready to eat something and take a nap when you hear suspicious noises coming from Thoma's room.

A loud moan makes your dick twitch in excitement. You rush over and see that Thoma forgot to close the door all the way, since he thought he'd be home alone he must not've cared enough to double check. You peak through the crack of the door, watching your step-brother finger himself, groping his chest and moaning the name of a guy you've never heard of.

The urge to come in and fuck him is too strong to ignore. You've been wanting to for so long and this would be the perfect time to strike, he's horny and about to come, he won't fight much.

You open the door slowly and walk over to Thoma's bed, his eyes are closed as he works himself to an orgasm. You take your pants and underwear off, moving on top of Thoma and smiling. His eyes shoot open in shock and he comes at the same time, gasping when he realizes you're on top of him and your very hard dick is uncomfortably close to him.

"Get out!" He shrieks, covering his crotch with his hands. "What's wrong with you?!"

"I wonder.." You move his hands away and spread his legs open. "Archons, I've been wanting to do this for so long." You slide into him despite his protests.

"No!" Thoma starts to cry. "Pull out! Please!" Thoma was saving himself for the guy he liked.

You bask in his tears, licking them up and moving yourself further inside.

"You're disgusting!" He punches your sides.

"You know how hard it was for me to hold back?" You bottom out. "Living in the same house as you has been so hard...seeing you wear only a t-shirt and boxers was almost too much to bear."

"Please! Just pull out and I won't tell anyone!"

"Once we're done, you won't have any reason to." You wink. "Or maybe you'll tell everyone about how good I fucked you."

"Never! I'm begging you, please just stop!"

You ignore him and start fucking into him, pounding his tight cunt and getting even more horny from his sobbing. "Fuck, Thoma-" You groan. "Love this fucking pussy, sucking me in so desperately. Wants more of my cock inside it, wants me to breed it full."

If you were his crush, Thoma would love being talked to like this, but it's you. His step-brother. The last person he thought he'd have sex with.

But Thoma can't help the way his body reacts to your words, something about this all was so good. Although he wishes it wasn't.

"You like getting talked to like a whore?" You slap his breast. "Hm? You want big bro to breed your little cunt?"

"Nn- no~ ah~!" He moans.

"No? You're moaning like a slut, don't try to pretend when it's so obvious you like this." You slap his other breast. "Give up."

"I ha- hate~ uuh~ it~! sto~ stop!"

"Do you get off on getting raped? Wanna pretend you don't like it cause it turns you on?" You smirk. "Keep faking it then, I like making my little brother feel good."

"Th- that's no~ not~ ah~!"

You lean into his ear, your heavy breathing making him shiver and clench around your cock. "Love assaulting your slutty little cunt. M' gonna come in you Thoma, gonna stuff your pussy full of my cum whether you like it or not."

Thoma moans loudly, your words turning him on wildly. He can't say he doesn't like this anymore. It's not like the two of you are related, plus you're probably better than his crush. Well, old crush now. "Aah~! (Name)~!"

You smirk, drilling into him harder as the two of you get closer to an orgasm.

Thoma rolls his eyes back, toes curling as you urge him towards his climax. He comes with a scream, the strongest orgasm he's ever had.

"Fucking slut-" You groan, unloading into him. Thoma whimpers as his cunt milks your cock desperately.

You look at Thoma's face, dried with tears and drool. "You're so pretty.."

He blushes. "What about your dad? my mom?"

"What they don't know won't hurt them." You wink.

[meeko-mar]

Bakudeku idea:

They're adults now, both Pro Heroes, and in a long-term Committed relationship. They've been boyfriends for a while now. Honestly, their friends are wondering when they're actually going to take the next step and get married.

The thought admittedly makes Izuku's heart flutter, the idea of actually, really, being Katsuki Bakugou's HUSBAND? Stars in his eyes.

But maybe he is still kind of awkward about expressing his own feelings and wants. He still internalizes his feelings sometimes, he doesn't want to come off as too "fixated" on the idea of marriage, doesn't want to come on too strongly to Katsuki, or apply pressure of an expectation.

Maybe part of him, with lingering feelings of self-doubt and imposter syndrome, still has denial about Katsuki being SO INTO HIM that he would say yes if proposed to.

Besides, they are still very young, and this lot in life has suited the two of them very well, he's content right now.

Not to say, that he hadn't run a few late night searches of "Engagement Ring designs" to test the waters of what was trending, what was traditional, more niche or "themed" sets, and then agonizing about what his Kacchan would even gravitate towards.

Ultimately he tries not to get too worked up over the details...If it happens, it happens. If it comes up, they'll talk about it. He doesn't feel the need to force it, or pop any question yet.

One day, however, they're both on patrol, assigned to different parts of the city.

Shit goes down, and word quickly spreads on the comms that Dynamight is pursuing a dangerous villain who'd already taken several casualties and was out for more.

"I'm on my way!"

Deku yells into his comm, as he sprints over the city with OFA. He asks for details on the situation. Katsuki occasionally screams back between explosions and cursing.

But suddenly, at some point, the comm cuts off, in mid-sentence.

"We must not've gotten all the Trigger outta the streets--This goddamn maniac won't fuckin'-- Stay---"

"DynaMight? DynaMight!" Deku stops cold, holding his earpiece, trying to hear any trace. "... Kacchan!!?"

Static.

Deku curses and bolts, heading to where Katsuki had last placed his coordinates.

He finds a smoking crater of an alleyway, and clear signs of a massive struggle. There's no sign of Katsuki or the Villain themselves, only their aftermath, and some heroes who had gotten there sooner, saying Katsuki had been taken. Caught somehow by the Villains powerful Quirk and dragged up and out of the alley as they tried to beat a retreat.

Izuku stalks into the mess, cautiously, trying to read the situation. His heart hammers as he finds splatters of blood. He feels nauseous, dizzy, frantic at the thought that it's Katsuki's.

He traces the tracks of explosions and gashes from strong blades into concrete and brick, reading the pattern of attacks, attempted defense, and capture to find the trajectory of the villain.

Izuku's about to take off once more, when something unusual catches his eye, a glint of bright gold. It's the trim of a small, velvet box.

He picks it up. God knows why, at this moment.

The velvet is already stained with a few drops of blood.

With a small creak, Izuku opens the box, and inside, he finds the most pristine set of bands, each with a faceted, gleaming stone. One a rich green, and the other a fiery orange.

Izuku's gloved hand clamps over his mouth, his jaw hanging in a silent exclamation. His heart beats impossibly faster as he cycles through emotions; shock, elation, and then blinding rage.

Katsuki Bakugou, his boyfriend, had been planning on proposing, for who knew how long. And this villain, This villain had TAKEN HIM.

This villain had HURT HIM.

OFA ignites in Deku as he crouches, lightning shooting dangerously around him, teary eyes gone white, and hair waving around wildly.

A small Velvet box clutched tightly in his fist.

The other Pro Heroes flinch and draw away, as the alley lights up in green light. Some of the more seasoned Pros know to stay away from the young man in this state.

"I'm finding them," comes Izuku's feral growl.

A thunderclap of sound overtakes them all as OFA launches Izuku upwards, out into the sky. Leaving nothing but another crater in his wake.

--

When Katsuki comes to, all he sees is the sunset illuminated sky, and a streak of green light heading directly for him. The multiple hands of the villain, some behemoth with four muscular, bladed arms, suddenly release with the heavy shockwave of an impact, and Katsuki feels himself plummet.

Explosions. He had to make some explosions!

He doesn't know who or what was under him, though, how high he was falling from; his consciousness is nebulous at best. The villain had caught him one too many times with the blades, knocked him into a few too many walls. Battling both concussions and blood loss, his concentration was absolutely shot.

"s-shit" Katsuki slurs out, trying to save himself to no avail, falling in what may have been an endless void, for all he knew.

Suddenly, an outside force careens into him. But it isn't the villain, he feels much smaller arms wrapping around him, under his knee, around his back... Familiar arms.

Green light and a sort of warmth overtakes his senses as his fall is cut short. The world still spins and the flashes begin to overwhelm him, but Katsuki could open his eyes now and find the outline of a very familiar face.

"'s about fuckin' Time, Deku..." Katsuki grunts.

"Kaccha---DynaMight! I've got you!!" Izuku's voice is as shaky as it was when he was a teenage boy, but brimming with relief. They set safely down on a brand new street, directing some Heroes that had been drawn to the sound and lightshow of the battle to give Katsuki some medical care.

"I think I knocked him out cold with OFA, but I've got to go make sure the villain is properly apprehended, Kacchan, I'll be right back, I love you!" He says urgently. Katsuki grunts angrily behind the Hero that was dabbing at his facial wounds, but doesn't struggle, Since now that he's seated on a random bench, every limb feels like lead and it's enough of a fight to just keep his eyes open.

"Get back here, Deku," He weakly yells, with no real meaning behind it; he just hates seeing his nerd run into battle alone. "-- Love you too...dumbass nerd..."

Everything becomes quiet, it seems that the villain really was down for the count. Apparently one massive, steamrolling Detroit Smash was all it took to knock the villain out long enough to put him under arrest. The Heroes around Katsuki said it had been like a huge light show in a matter of seconds, Green light splintering in the sky over buildings as Izuku had shot through the air and laid waste to the Villain carrying Katsuki away as some sort of hostage. That must have been the moment that Katsuki had felt he was falling in a void.

He allows himself to breathe, sitting there waiting for the ambulance blaring in the distance to draw closer, so they could take him to get some real medical attention. He pointedly avoids chit-chat or eye contact with the unknown hero that was standing over him, making sure he wouldn't fall asleep until proper help arrived.

He just silently waits for Izuku to return.

Suddenly, he recalls something, and his hands shoot to his hips, feeling around in his pockets. With a few pats, he finds it; a small, rectangular shape in his right side pocket.

He immediately sighs in relief...So it hadn't been lost in the fight.

He takes it out, and looks it over...Strange, there was a bit of his blood on it. Maybe it had soaked through the outside of his pants? Opens it up, and both rings are safe and secure.

Thank God. They were fucking expensive. Even for a Hero salary.

But one thing bothered Katsuki, as he softly snapped the box shut, and slid it back into his pocket as the ambulance pulled up.

Red eyes shone thoughtfully as he catches sight of Izuku jogging breathlessly back to him. He could, from there, see Izuku's large, green eyes gleaming with worry.

Katsuki could have sworn that he had stuck the rings in his left pocket before Patrol.

--

Later, Katsuki had been given a clean bill of health, left only with a resounding headache, some leftover bruising. Rubbing at the back of his neck, tired eyes blink as Izuku re-enters the room, a black bag with Dynamight's signature orange X in his hands.

"Here, I grabbed your stuff from your locker," Izuku chirps, setting it next to Katsuki on the bed.

"Thank god, all this shit's bloody and gross," Katsuki complains, immediately grabbing his street clothes out from the bag, shoving his trashed costume and certain other personal items inside the bag in their place. As he sheds the hospital issued pair of pants and shirt to get dressed, he can't help but notice an odd little look on Izuku's face. Glancing at the bag, but not too long as to be able to arouse Katsuki's suspicion. Or so he thinks.

Izuku seems to get a hold of himself and turns from the bag, taking an aggressive slurp of some iced coffee. He must have picked it up while he was out, literally running across the city to take care of things at the agency, and grab Katsuki's things.

Katsuki grimaced as he buckled his pants up; Izuku was awkward as always, and really did have a shitty poker face. There was definitely something up.

As he pulls his shirt over his head, he decides to have a little fun with his boyfriend.

"Izu. I need to ask you something." He says it in a low, serious thrum, red eyes blazing.

Izuku coughs a bit on his coffee. "Y-you do??"

Admittedly amused by how spooked Izuku looks, Katsuki doesn't drop his own composure, as he steps closer to Izuku.

"I may have dropped something out there...Did you see anything?"

"Eh---What?" Izuku gazes up at him, and seeing the peculiar look in his boyfriend's eyes, and there is an electric charge in the air, an unspoken understanding between them.

He knows this jig is up. "I um... Well...." Izuku stammers, and just can't bring himself to confirm it, nor lie to his boyfriend.

"So that's a definite 'yes'...Shit." Katsuki growls. He leans against the side of the empty hospital bed, crimson eyes smoldering with annoyance over his secret being unceremoniously outed. "You guessed the wrong pocket, by the way, you nerd." Izuku immediately flushes with embarrassment.

"Kacchan, I found them in the alley and I figured you'd dropped them, I'm so, so sorry I didn't say anything!" Izuku sets his drink down and closes the gap between them, tenderly taking one of Katsuki's hands in his own. Softly, imploringly, he squeezes and rubs little circles with his thumbs.

"I didn't know if I should say anything, I mean, you must have been planning something and working so hard, and I didn't want to ruin the surprise, I just thought, if I could sneak it back to you you wouldn't have known and then...You could still surprise me like you planned?! I-I guess it kinda sounds bad, it's basically lying, but I'll admit I was a little...Emotional? And panicked?? So I--"

"Izuku. Quit muttering." Katsuki interrupts, and Izuku looks down at the linoleum floor, blushing furiously. Katsuki looks at the fretful young man in front of him and cocks a pleased grin at him. "It made you emotional, huh?"

"Well...Yes? Kacchan, it was bad enough that he hurt you and took you," Katsuki doesn't miss for a second the flash of that protective and slightly unhinged fury that took Izuku's expressive eyes for just a moment-- "--and then I found out that you were going to...You'd already bought rings...Of course I was emotional!" Izuku splutters, tears bubbling up in his eyes again.

"You went feral again, didn't you. I was half blacked out at that point, but I saw you charging after that bastard when he had me. Just a big ball of raging OFA energy."

Izuku shrugs, and Katsuki leans forward, placing a hand at the nape of Izuku's neck. He brings their foreheads together, and looks deeply at his boyfriend's eyes.

"How many times I gotta tell you, stop losing your shit like that. You get reckless." Katsuki scolds. "That piece of crap was a weakling anyway, I would've had him no problem in a minute. I woulda come around and made him eat dirt."

Izuku laughs, this time sporting his own cocky grin.

"That's such a Kacchan thing to say." He closes his eyes and leans against Katsuki. "So... Do you....Want an answer now?" He asks hesitantly.

Izuku's bright green doe eyes that stare so intently at him still make Katsuki furious sometimes. The hands he's treasured for so long clinging to his own so sweetly, don't help. He still can't deal with how flustered he feels in these soft moments, and it always dulls his annoyance into soft compliance.

Katsuki withdraws entirely, and grabs up his bag. Looking resolutely at his boyfriend, he seems just a little sullen.

"Hell no. Forget you saw the rings, Izuku." Izuku blinks in surprise, a bit surprised, and Katsuki heaves a sigh.

"Don't freak out, I'm gonna ask you. But I'm gonna do it properly. Like I was planning to in the first place, before those bastards at HQ rearranged our routes today!" He scowls, tired and embarrassed, thinking all over again about how his entire plan for the day had been ruined by meddling extras. "No fuckin' way is the Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight proposing in a friggin' hospital room in a damn rush." He grabs the top of Izuku's head and furiously musses up his green curls.

"Just get the entire thing outta that head of yours, got it?!"

Izuku laughs softly under his hand, and finally understands; Katsuki was waiting for a more meaningful opportunity. No doubt, his original plan might have entailed a breathless, adrenaline-filled proposal after they saved and won the day, together.

Kind of romantic, when he thinks about it, and their history together. Their lives and relationship had intertwined so tightly around their heroics, that it made total sense, for Katsuki to have been carrying the rings on patrol in the first place. If they hadn't split up, maybe it would have gone the way he'd intended, and they would have been officially engaged that night. There might have been a perfect moment of victory that Katsuki would have used to pop the question.

Not to mention it would exceedingly boost their ratings which were already performing incredibly well now that the public was really catching on to their relationship--Not that he thought Katsuki gave even the slightest shit about that aspect.

Izuku nods in agreement. "I'll leave it to you, then, DynaMight." He says, just so sweetly.

"Damn right you will." Katsuki smirks. "Now grab your drink and let's go home already. I'm fuckin' beat." His voice rasps with his fatigue. He sneaks one kiss on Izuku's cheek and heads out the door.

The two Heroes leave the hospital hand in hand.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: when a demeter camper falls for an ares camper, carnations and crocuses aren’t too far behind, whether they like it or not. word count: 4173 words a/n: hey guys! i know y'all liked my last story so much, and i had so much fun with it, that i wanted to do another one! and yeah, i've never seen anything anywhere about the power i gave the demeter kid, but it i just kinda made it up and it works well for this story. enjoy! taglist: @poptart-cat-78 @fynn-arcana @babsbabbles @laughingphoenixleader {if you’d like to be added to my halfblood 5&1 taglist/pjo taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

five flowers ares girls don't appreciate (and one that they really, really do)

~oliver's third summer~

 Oliver McAdam had a rare blessing from his godly parent, and it was the bane of his existence.

 For some people, sometimes being a demigod meant you could do really cool things. A few of Hermes' kids were able to run fast enough, they may as well be teleporting. Apollo's kids sometimes had prophecy, or the ability to bend light. Some of Aphrodite's kids could control you with their voice like a Jedi mind trick.

 Oliver, however, a child of Demeter, possessed an ability none of his siblings— or anyone else he'd ever met— did. He'd first noticed it on his father's farm, when orchis started growing in the pumpkin patch, and he found osmunda in his window box of violets, but it wasn't until the tulip tree sprouted in the bathtub that he realized these flowers weren't random— he was creating them.

 Different flowers came from different moods. Daffodils and daisies bloomed when he was happy. Black dahlias surrounded him when he was anxious. Hyacinth grew when he was sorrowful. Sometimes fruit would graft itself from a nearby tree when he was hungry. That one wasn't so bad, of course, but he could do without the rest of them. The trail of flowers that followed his emotions made him feel like a freak, even by demigod standards.

 One of his little demigod half-sisters, Calla, had done extensive research on Victorian flower language, and thought it was the coolest thing ever how the blossoms that surrounded him followed him and responded to his mood exactly, speaking a language that florists had spoken for more than a century. She'd always been able to read his flowers like a functional mood ring, and sometimes she'd explain them to him when he didn't understand them.

 But he didn't need her to tell him what the sweet-brier blossoms growing at his feet were about, because even though they sounded pleasant enough by name, well, a sweet-brier by any other name could still spell terror. As it was, he was quaking in his boots. It was his day to check the cabins, which wasn't ever so bad in and of itself, until he got to Cabin 5. The Ares cabin was bad enough to look at from the outside, but to go inside the house of horrors? That was terrifying.

 He approached the cabin nervously, glancing down at his clipboard and praying no more sweet-brier planted itself on the cabin doorstep.

 Someone in front of him opened the door, and he froze with fear. The only thing scarier than Ares' cabin was Ares' kids, and though he didn't know which of them would be at the door, he could guarantee he didn't want to find out.

 The camper in question, apparently, hadn't seen Oliver standing there, but she became very aware of his presence when she ran into him.

 "Watch it, punk." she said.

 "I'm sorry," Oliver said, his voice squeaking as several flowers cropped up around him, "I didn't mean to…."

 If there had been more to that sentence, Oliver forgot it when he looked up at her. He'd never dared get this close to an Ares kid before, but if anyone had told him they were this pretty, he would've much sooner. Her eyes were the color of freshly upturned soil, her skin like a field of ripened wheat touched by a sunrise, her hair the same shade of black as the leather jacket with the ripped off sleeves she wore over her Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

 "You'd better not've," she said, pushing past him.

 Oliver barely had time to notice the crocus that sprouted between them before she pushed past him and stepped on it on her way out of the cabin.

~oliver's third summer~

 By the end of that summer, Oliver had gathered that the beautiful child of the war god was named Emilia, and he recalled her claiming a couple summers ago after a divisive and merciless Capture the Flag victory. Oliver hadn't been outgoing even then, and Emilia hadn't exactly ever played nice, so he'd had no problem avoiding her.

 But now, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

 As he packed up at the end of the summer, he kept an eye out the open door of his cabin, watching Cabin #5 more closely than ever before.

 Most of his siblings had already left by the time he decided it was time to go, a couple ox-eye daisies budding around his suitcase. He saw in the distance as Ares' cabin door opened and Emilia left. Oliver had planned and timed this, quickly grabbing his suitcase and hoping he could make it look like an accident that he happened to leave at the same time as her.

 "See you next summer," he called across the distance, waving at her, "have a great school year!"

 "Get lost already!" she grumbled back.

 The last two times he'd tried to talk to her, she'd ignored him entirely, so he took her upset response as a good sign, hoping she wouldn't see the snowdrops that blossomed around him.

~oliver's fourth summer~

 When you feel refreshed by time out in the garden, winter lasts an eternity. Just when you think there's hope for the browns and grays around you to awaken into green again, they're buried in another layer of heartless white.

 But, just as hope comes to fruition from the darkest souls, so springtime blooms out of winter's chill, and soon it was spring at McAdam farms, and Oliver was soon busy helping his father on the farm. The past few years, he'd done as much as he could in the spring and fall, wondering how his father even got on through the summer while he was away at camp.

 And once again, his father would have to manage, as Oliver found himself in the familiar fields of Camp Half Blood.

 In the past four years, Oliver had gotten better and better at controlling his emotions and their telltale flora. He still couldn't stop himself from growing monkshood in moments of panic or control what plants he created, but for the most part, he had a handle on his feelings in the minutiae of day-to-day life.

 That is, until he sat down for his first dinner of the summer at Camp Half-Blood, and saw Emilia at her sibling's table across the pavilion, laughing with a violent excitement at being together again. Oliver's life wasn't very exciting in the offseason, so one of the biggest points of interest that year had been the thought of Emilia.

 Despite his best attempts at restraint, his plate was soon covered in yellow blossoms, blooming out of his chicken nuggets in a feat of nature that would've been incredible if it wasn't so incredibly annoying.

 "Tarragon?" Calla asked, taking a seat next to him, "funny, I prefer ketchup on my chicken nuggets, myself."

 "Are you sure you don't want to try it?" Oliver joked, as he started to pick the flowers off his plate, hovering a few over her dinner plate as a taunt.

 "Oh, I'm good," she giggled.

 He looked up across the pavilion again, and saw that Emilia was looking at him. Granted, most of the camp was looking at him, almost as though they'd been awaiting the first of his accidental flowerings this summer. He only really noticed Emilia though, and how she smiled a little and rolled her eyes.

 Oliver didn't care that her smile was meant to taunt him, that she was laughing at him and not with him— he still saw something warm in it, and her smile made him smile.

 Unfortunately, her smile also made him sprout, a yellow tulip blossoming— not in front of him, but at the longest distance away he'd ever gotten a flower to bloom: right out of Emilia's blood red glass of cola.

 He looked back down at his food quickly as her siblings began laughing and her face flushed as red as her cola. When an Ares kid gets into a rage, you don't want to find yourself in their warpath, and Emilia was no exception. Oliver looked up, only a little, to see the crumpled tulip land on his dinner plate, though he knew that if flowers were a better projectile, she definitely could've taken his head off with it.

 "I guess I'm eating salad," he muttered, deadpan, shrugging as he stabbed at the head of the tulip and pretended to eat it.

 His siblings laughed, and he looked up to see Emilia, still upset, and he tried to convince himself that she didn't look cute when she was angry like that. He wasn't sure how she'd respond if his feelings accidentally covered her table in red roses, but he didn't want to find out, especially once she'd remember that roses have thorns.

 Instead, he kept his mind occupied by his quest to remove the plants from his dinner.

 "Don't think I don't know what that means," Calla whispered to him.

 "I know you do," Oliver said, without looking up.

 "Tarragon is for lasting interest," Calla said, "and even though everyone thinks yellow flowers just mean friendship, the yellow tulip goes deeper. It actually means 'there is sunshine in your smile." Isn't that so dreamy?"

 "I guess," Oliver chuckled.

 "You've had a crush on her since last summer?" she whispered. He looked up at her with a glare, "what makes you say that?"

 "It's so obvious," she said, "does she know?"

 He looked down at the crumpled tulip on the table.

 "I sure hope not."

~oliver's fourth summer~

 It wasn't uncommon for Ares kids to challenge each other to combat. Sometimes it was to air grievances, and sometimes it was to let off some steam, but usually it was just for fun.

 Oliver had never found it fun to fight or to watch fighting, but he was excited to watch the fight that broke out between Emilia and the new girl, Clarisse. Clarisse was young, but still a terrifying force, and Olilver wouldn't've wanted to face her, even before she'd gotten a month and a half of half-blood combat training.

 But Oliver was still rooting for Emilia. She was still older than Clarisse by a few years, and was one of the most formidable fighters at camp.

 "You think she's gonna win?" Calla asked, coming up behind Oliver and standing next to him as they watched this fight.

 "Who?" Oliver asked, without looking back at Calla, taking advantage of this chance to stare at Emilia.

 "The Easter Bunny," Calla said, sarcastically, then clarified, "Emilia."

 "Yeah," Oliver sighed, "isn't she so cool? She's such a talented fighter, and she knows exactly what she's doing, and her moves are so graceful and calculated, and…."

 "You need to get out of here," Calla's voice was suddenly serious.

 "What do you mean?" Oliver asked, but before the words were out of his mouth, he saw Emilia fall to the ground, having tripped on something. Clarisse was quickly at the ready, with a sword pointed at her neck before she had a chance to get up. He then noticed what she'd tripped on— dozens of trailing alyssum plants had grown at her feet.

 "Was that me?" Oliver asked.

 "No, it was the Easter Bunny again," Calla said, "you'd better run. If you're here when she gets up…" "Yeah, I know," Oliver said, taking off for his cabin, hoping Emilia wouldn't join the trail of peony that followed him away.

~oliver's fourth summer~

 Oliver tried to ignore the flowers at his feet as he sat on his cabin's steps. Over the last few days, Emilia had made it clear that she didn't want him, or his pity apologies and peony powers, within two hundred yards of her.

 But even two yards from her would've been too far for him, and no matter how physically distant he was, his crumbled heart was still with her.

 "Red carnations?" Calla interrupted Oliver's brooding silence.

 Oliver didn't respond.

 "Do you need me to tell you what that one means?"

 Calla sat down next to him. "'Alas, for my poor heart!' I always thought that was a strong sentiment for one plant to carry, but I get it now, mopey."

 "She won't even talk to me," Oliver shook his head, "I mean, she never talked to me, but she won't even let me apologize."

 "It probably wouldn't've worked out anyways," Calla said.

 "What's that supposed to mean?" If anyone would've understood his feelings, it was her. He sometimes wondered if his little sister had been misclaimed by Demeter, and if Aphrodite was her mom instead. She saw the potential for a relationship in anyone.

 "I mean, her dad's the god of war," Calla said, "our mom is the god of wildflowers."

 "The opposite of that," Oliver shook his head, "the harvest. Things we plant."

 "So, gardening."

 "Have you ever started a garden?" Oliver asked. When she shook her head, he continued, "you look at a piece of land, and you say, 'this is mine.' You mark off a territory, and you fight for it. You rip it apart by the roots, you make it yours, and you don't show mercy to any weeds or wildflowers that stand in the way. If you let your guard down for even a day, the enemy will choke you out. You have to keep fighting. Gardening is war, and if anyone could understand that…."

 He shook his head as his voice trailed away.

 "I didn't know you were such a fighter," Calla smiled, then nudged him, "and I bet Emilia doesn't know that either."

 Another red carnation sprouted at the mere mention of Emilia.

 "And she never will," he half laughed to shrug off the pain.

 "Not with that attitude," Calla said, "but maybe if you show her?"

 "How?" 

 "Maybe start with flowers," Calla suggested, motioning to the DIY bouquet at their feet.

 "Give her these?" Oliver asked.

 "It's a start," Calla said.

 "I can't do it."

 "You have to try."

 "No I don't."

 Calla shook her head and got up.

 "And here I thought you were a fighter."

 "So?" Oliver asked.

 Calla smiled and shrugged, "so fight for her."

 Oliver looked down at the flowers at his feet and knew exactly what to do.

 🥀

 He watched her cabin from a safe distance. He'd seen his brothers leave flowers for the Aphrodite girls all the time, but he had a feeling Emilia wouldn't respond the same way. It was just a simple bouquet with a note that said "I'm sorry," but he hoped the rich hue of the red flowers would appease her, like a sacrifice painted in the blood of her enemies.

 He watched as she opened the cabin door and picked up the bouquet, then re-entered her cabin.

 Did it work? Would she hear him out? Would she at least treat him civilly?

 He watched again as she left her cabin, holding the flowers upside-down, a lighter in her other hand (and where she got a lighter at camp, he didn't want to know.) The flame quickly licked up the plants, and she left the charred husk that remained on her cabin steps as a reminder.

 Oliver didn't need to hear that message twice. If his poor heart ached when he saw that happen, he wouldn't give her the flowers to prove it.

~emilia's third summer~

 Emilia had had just about enough of this flower boy, and it took her every last ounce of restraint to keep from burning down his cabin instead of just the red flowers he'd left at the doorstep yesterday. She couldn't imagine what would've happened if any of her siblings saw them before she got rid of them. They'd already given her a hard enough time about the tulip soda at the start of the summer and losing in battle to the new girl last week, she didn't need this ruining her image either. When would this pansy stop trying to embarrass her already?

 She smiled as he cowered away when she saw him at breakfast that morning. She'd put him in his place. Nobody, nobody makes Emilia Alvarez look stupid and gets away with it.

 🥀

 Emilia had been cornered by a lot of people in her life. Even mortals like her siblings back home and the bullies at school had seen her as easy prey for years— though the older she got, the less she let them give her problems. And demigods? Most of them would steer clear of her with just a glare, and the ones that didn't quickly learned their lessons.

 That's why she was so thrown off today, when a girl grabbed her by the arm and growled her name like it was some kind of curse.

 Emilia turned to see a girl ten inches shorter than her, with flowers braided in her hair and a necklace made of plastic daisies.

 "What's your problem?" Emilia asked.

 "No, what's yours?" the flower girl sneered.

 "Hey, I'm not usually in the mood to bust someone's nose right after eating," Emilia threatened, "but you wouldn't be the first, and you won't be the last."

 "Take your best shot," she said, "you could stand to lose dessert privileges the next few days."

 Emilia frowned, then smiled and pulled back to punch, but stopped when she saw the fear in her eyes.

 "I recognize you," Emilia said, "you're the one always hanging out with that punk."

 "Calla," she said, "and 'that punk' has a name— it's Oliver— and if he didn't care so much about you, I would've flattened you myself by now."

 "Back that train up," Emilia crossed her arms, "'Oliver' doesn't care about me. He's been using his flower powers to make me look stupid all summer."

 "I didn't know he goes for stupid," she sighed, "but he's absolutely crazy about you, so…."

 "'Crazy's' a good word for it, runt."

 "You don't understand," Calla said, "he hasn't been trying to make you look bad at all."

 "Well, he's got a funny way of showing it," she rolled her eyes.

 "He can't control it."

 "Can't control what?"

 "The flowers," Calla said, "they just kind of happen. He doesn't cause them— deliberately."

 "I don't buy that," Emilia asked, "you've got ten seconds to scram before I bash your brains in."

 "It's true!" she said, apparently undeterred, "they respond to his emotions. Like the tulips when someone's smile reminds him of the sunshine."

 "What?" Emilia asked, recalling the soda blossom at the start of the summer.

 "And the alyssum you tripped on?" Calla said, "when he likes someone for who they are, more than just their beauty." "Beauty?" Emilia asked, "He thinks I'm pretty?" "More than that," Calla said, listing a few things off on her fingers, "a skilled fighter, a queen on earth, the pride of Camp Half Blood. He won't shut up about you."

 Emilia tried to pretend that the red she could feel creeping across her cheeks was from anger, not because she was blushing. She tried to change the subject.

 "So you expect me to believe the bouquet of flowers with an apology note was an accident too?"

 "That one was my idea," Calla admitted, "a foolish attempt to get you to talk to him— but it was only flowers he'd already grown, borne of heartbreak. He's devastated, Emilia, and it's because of you."

 "Good," Emilia said.

 "I know you don't really think that," Calla said.

 "You don't know me." 

 "I know you would've pulverized me by now if you were glad you hurt him."

 Emilia could've pulverized her. She could've punched the smug grin off the flower child's face. She could've flattened her before she got a chance to turn heel and leave. She could've yelled a few insults, or chased after her and beat her down. Instead, Emilia stood in silence as she walked away.

 🥀

 Everything felt different as Emilia walked across the camp. Her heart raced like she was preparing for war. She smiled like she'd completed some conquest. Somehow she felt a little bit invincible— was this what love feels like?

 She started to notice things more too— most prominently, she noticed a trail of red flowers, just like the ones she'd burned yesterday. Now that she realized that was a declaration of love and not of war, she almost felt guilty crushing his heart in response. In fact, she did feel guilty— and she needed to make it up.

 She followed the trail of flowers to the shade behind cabin #4, where she saw Oliver sitting against the wall, lost in thought. She approached him with military stealth, and he didn't even notice as she stood right over him.

 "I thought I'd find you here," Emilia said.

 He looked up at her, startled, though she couldn't tell if it was a general startle or if it was because her presence had that effect on people.

 "Then again, the carnations gave you away."

 "Emilia!" he said, nervously jumping to his feet as though he were about to make a hasty escape, "don't worry, I'll, I'll get out of your way."

 "Not so fast, punk," Emilia said. She grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back, turning him around and pushing him against the wall in front of her, her arm pressing against his collarbone, "I had a talk with your little friend."

 "What about?" he asked, fear swirling in his eyes.

 "Something about you having a little crush on me," she narrowed her eyes, "is that true?"

 He looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at her, meeting her eyes with his.

 "Yeah," he said, followed by a quick, "please don't kill me."

 For a moment, before his face washed with fear, she saw a confident determination, like a soldier prepared for war. She liked that more than she normally would've admitted. She also liked the fear in his eyes too— actually, maybe it was just that she liked his eyes, and the rest of his face as well.

 "Oh, don't worry," she said, pushing him harder against the wall, "I wouldn't do that. I can think of something a lot better to do with your face than pulverizing it."

 "Like what?" his voice squeaked.

 "Like this," she smiled.

 She leaned toward him and planted a kiss on his trembling lips, which stilled themselves as the world did, stopping itself and starting itself all over again.

 She pulled away, and he blinked a few times, stupefied. She ran a range of emotions she couldn't begin to place names to. He must've as well, because as she looked down at their feet, there must've been a dozen different flowers growing around them, entangling their roots, planting them both to the spot.

 But one flower stood out most to her, a couple bright orange blossoms she couldn't stop herself from picking.

 "Nasturtium," she said.

 "What?" Oliver asked, breathless, still clearly trying to regain his senses.

 "These grew back home," Emilia said, lost for a wistful moment as she twirled the buds between her fingers, "when I was a little girl, back in Chile."

 She met Oliver's eyes.

 "Know what this one means?"

 He shook his head.

 "Conquest," Emilia said, "victory in battle."

 She didn't explain how she knew, but he seemed too shocked still to even bother to ask.

 "I think I'll keep this one," she said, tucking the flower behind her ear, "if that's okay with you."

 "Yeah," he whispered.

 She could tell he was still processing, trying to figure out what was going on, and if there'd been a flower for confusion, it would've been in the garden growing between them. It might be best to give him time to weed out his thoughts— pun literally intended.

 "I'll talk to you later, okay?" she said.

 He started to say "yeah," but she planted a kiss on his cheek first, which apparently flipped a reset switch in his brain all over again.

 As Emilia walked away, she brushed her fingers along the flower behind her ear. She knew her siblings were gonna give her a hard time for it, but she'd give it right back to them. As much as she hated them picking on her, she'd tolerated it— but somehow she knew that if any of the others started poking fun at Oliver, she'd personally arrange a meeting between their head and a toilet, complete with a black eye as a parting gift.

 She'd heard someone on TV say that love was strength, and maybe they were right. As much as she'd always fought for herself, she was twice as prepared to fight for Oliver.

 Especially that day at lunch, when he gave her a whole bouquet of those bright orange nasturtium flowers, and though he was still apparently too tongue-tied to get out anything more than a "these are for you," the note he'd written on the card said it all in just how he addressed her: "to the champion who conquered my very heart"

[flovey-dovey]

Dudes... I'm still thinking about Rundas. He was best friends with Samus and respected and appreciated her so much dudes. Rundas comes to Samus' rescue after the mini-battle with Ridley when nobody else did, showed concern after the fact along with some personality he might not've shown if it was someone else, and showed more comradery to her than anyone. His battle theme is so tragic too like you can hear the inner turmoil of two friends and trusted allies being pitted against each other, unlike how the themes are for Ghor and Gandrayda. Rundas making fun encouraging banter with Samus in the elevator up to the canon activation room, those being his last words Samus ever heard him say... He deserved so much better dudes... He was so cool... (pun coincidentally intended)... There just seems to be this level of connection that Rundas had with Samus that Samus didn't have with anybody else there. So much subtle development- personal and interpersonal- for a character who's cutscenes don't even tally up to more than ten minutes. Can only imagine the way Samus must've felt after that battle... One of her only true friends gone forever... Like dang dudes...

[thewordworrier]

24th December - 602 words.

Worked On: a little NormalAU thought.

Favourite Line: heh.

"And if you find me a red suit wearing, bearded man, I might even sit on his lap and ask him very nicely which list I belong on, because I might have one or two wishes."

I dislike working Christmas Eve, but I am very grateful that it was a Sunday! I would not've been able to stand another 90 minutes of people's BS today.

[queenofbaws]

Hello Queenie! Happy to report I’m no longer sick (aside from a pesky cough that won’t leave).

That being said, yes it is not the weekend but I have a request pretty please based on a song ofc.

(Party by Daughter)

I’m trying to keep my cool

My friends are vanishing

I fear the time wipe out

For fear that I’ll forget

The worst night of my life

Or even worse, the best

Dr. Hill was awfully worried, or at least so it seemed; his face was hard to read most of the time...all of the time, really, but lately there'd been creases in his forehead that hadn't been there before, brackets around his mouth as he listened for answers to the questions he asked.

"Do you think this fantasy is helping you?" he'd asked that afternoon, and the look on his face had said without words that this was what it had all been building up to, that the smaller ones had been softballs meant to tenderize before the cut. "The killing, the maiming, knocking each of them over like poorly spaced dominoes? Does it give you anything - closure, catharsis, anything - this story of monsters and ice, or do you think, perhaps, it's another way you're allowing your guilt to eat at you?"

Silence was what filled his office then, and that must not've been the answer he'd wanted, because for a moment he simply hung his head before straightening again, pitching his voice down low to tell her the same thing he'd been saying for the past year: "The fire wasn't your fault, Hannah...you can't keep punishing yourself like this, killing them in your head."

But that was where he was wrong - she could, she would, it was, and until the moment her grief pulled its teeth from her heart or the hungry chasm inside of her chest was filled (whichever came first), she had no plans of stopping.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[meandmyechoes]

I wanted to write a long meta about ep15-17, and will write later, but I need to organise my feelings before 18. This is mostly a babble about 17 + predictions on 18.

woah. 17 is such a roller-coaster. There's so much happening.

One thing I really like is how Yanma interacts with EVERYBODY, including Kaguragi, and goes to show the Wise part in Yanma with how he manages the kings as resources. So far we don't have duo episodes yet (ah there's ep7) but each week Kingoh deepens a little between each member. I was still submerged in 16 last week I didn't really prepare before 17 and as a result, I was so blown away by how good 17 is as a good old toku episode. Yanma is so heroic (and Aoto beautiful) i still tear up every rewatch.

Since ep15's rebellion reveal, I saw the 'comman man' similarity between the two and am dying to see how they arrive at common ground on that. The bargaining scene is a nice follow-up to Yanma's comments about Kaguragi snitiching in ep13.

When did I start thinking about Team Wings huh… Since my rewatch that Rita stood in his way in ep1? since "Aboslute Neutral" became Yanma's name for them? Well, the last Wings interaction is not actually that long ago in 12 (but that was like a month ago already lol). But ah, this is just days after I talked about them in Haters Club and it's so delightful lol. Yanma has kind of a condescending tone speaking to Rita even though he doesn't mean to be rude. The way he "manipulates" Rita into securing Jeramie with a question sounds like he's speaking to a child trying to guide them to an answer. For any other person Yanma's attitude is disrespectful but, and this is purely my assumption, I feel like Rita would not've noticed that deflection but only the words that goes straight to the heart of the problem. And technically Yanma didn't outright ask Rita to help his country, but to do their job so that he has a better chance. You can interpret this as Yanma doesn't trust Rita as much as Himeno and Shiokara (tracks), and another way that Yanma reads people so precisely he avoided wavering Rita's impartiality even though by treaty he can ask for help.

Yanhime!! I'm kinda conflicted because himerita brain but yanhime stocks i'm glad you're winning!! Rival but I wouldn't trust anyone else!! Beautiful dynamic!! comedic rival lovers formula always works!!

YanGira!! I'm even more excited. Sentai RedBlue, Never Fails You. <3 Even dying, Yanma still has to make sure Gira isn't just all talk, that he has made up his mind. Gira's battle, is no longer "I will die for the people", but that "I'm failing people if I die". Gira cannot remain reckless or self-sacrificing because he has a duty to his teammates and himself.

YanShio. what hit me is. Shiokara muttering as if he completed the task of getting everyone in N'Kosopa to safety, then he can save Yanma too. He knows he can't convince Yanma to leave so the best he can do as his assistant is to create a scenario where the King can make that call. "Do you really think Yanma would ever run?" No. Of course not. Shiokara knows that better than anyone. But that doesn't mean he will stop trying to protect Yanma in his own way. i just love how this show has its characters disagreeing but still respect each other's strong will.

and there are like, so many callbacks, Yanma's speech to ep2, Yanma-Shiokara dialogue in ep10, Gira's evil speech in ep1, Gira catching Yanma's fist in ep7 vs. ep17 act 1/3 BRO

Yano-san's expression when he saw Yanma killed is such. so well-done. That moment you feel Racles's villain mask slipping as he force himself to laugh like Gira said of a winning man. ugh.

You see, I lean towards Racles's being a true villain. As in, he truly believes his dictatorship only is what can save Chikyuu and absolute power = peace. From his elitist pov, this is the most effective way and who better to get the job done than himself. But Gira can still be his soft spot. But in 17, his mannerisms is that much of an act it's hard to believe he's not putting on one to spare Gira and the other kings the dirty work. But then Yano-san's still filming so there's no way he will die any time soon…

ep18

Act 1: picks up right after ep17. Gira and Racles duel in N'kosopa square. Racles has the crown so he should've surely won. Did he miss the critical spots again or somebody swept Gira away? (Jeramie? Gerojim?) lean towards former because if Jeramie saved the day he wouldn't be so dwon in Ishabana. Flashback as act 1 closes.

Act 2: The team regroups in Ishbana. The Team/Rita decides to go to Shugoddom (for what plot purpose? just to set up 19? Does an arrest still works at this point? (on grounds of collusion/invasion)).

Racles prepares for when he "dies"/lose to Gira -> conspires with Suzume/appoints her as regent?. Assuming Suzume's act holds up, between the idiot woman puppeteered by Toufu Kaguragi vs. his idiot brother, why would Racles defer the country to Suzume? (take a bite of kaguracles) He believes he can take advantage of Suzme's blind devotion and execute his exact plan on grounds of marriage? (re new ring on left fourth finger) The other route of him seeing past Suzume's act and trust her (as a worthy opponent, and they did spent 15 years togetger…) to "save" Gira is good good too.

Something happened that Kaguragi now joins 18's final battle in Ishabana (re magazine)

Act 3: Racles/Bugnarok attacks Ishbana. Gira Racles duel again -> Gira grabs the crown -> mecha fight. ZERO lost by losing the ability/partners to gattai but it's a mecha fight so the pilot isn't immediately killed. Gira spares Racles by "missing the vital organs". Racles imprisoned?? How's the bugnarok solved then?? Jeramie peace conference take 2?

I'm pretty convinced the next ep is Toufu-centric if ep18 really is over for the event. I hope it goes full throttle on plot before 7/28 if just to tease a movie I won't be able to see in 5 months. Give us a young Kagu working in the fields. We haven't went to the Toufu streets much, maybe it's a budget/schedule concern because they can't always travel to Kyoto, I'd thought Toufu's real set would've been easiest to find. Hey why is the last Kagu-centric episode in Shugodom instead of Toufu.

Pretty sure I only get this half right like last time with 16. The other half is revealed in ways I'd never thought possible. Good Night.

[fleurdelanuit13]

FFXIVWRITE: Prompt 27 - Sole

Lyla and Lalai sat on a couch in a well-decorated store. It smelled wonderfully of leather and perfume. Refreshments sat on the low table in front of them. They waited for Zhai'a with his vanya robe neatly-folded next to them. He was with another Miqo'te at the other end of the shop, getting fitted for new boots.

Lalai laughed as she and Lyla regaled themselves with memories. "Remember how long he took? I feared he would keep us in suspense until the comet passed again!"

Lyla snorted. "Or until Shantotto's return."

"Huh? Shantotto? Her name is Shatotto."

"Yes, but therrre is an archmage named Shantotto as well. She was in the Shroud a few years ago. Shatotto greatly reminded me of her."

"Why have I not heard of this Shantotto?"

"It's a long story," Lyla said.

"We've nothing but time," Lalai said.

"She was from another world."

"Was it one of those that you've been to?"

"No, but I met another from her world once."

Zhai'a began to walk back to them. "If I remember correctly," he said, "Shantotto was from the Federation of Windurst in Vana'diel." The other Miqo'te took notes as she watched his gait.

"Word probably didn't reach outside the Shroud," Zhai'a added. "It barely reached past Gridania. I only found out because Khloe Bajhiri came to the area I was working in."

The Seeker felt at the boots Zhai'a wore. "Now stand as you would while casting," she told him. He took a conjury stance.

"Pimoh and Oah didn't tell you?" Lyla asked.

Zhai'a shook his head. "Oah wasn't there. Pimoh spared most of the details and just sent me a copy of The Raven instead."

Lalai looked at Lyla. "You didn't tell him either? I thought you'd been colleagues for a long time."

"We're both members of Stillglade Fane," said Zhai'a, "but we were not in contact."

Lyla took a ginger cookie from the snack table. "And even if we had been," she added, "he wouldn't've remembered me."

"We hadn't seen each other in almost ten years," Zhai'a explained. At the Seeker's direction, he took another stance.

Lyla scoffed. "Yes that's the reason, not the crucial detail that I'm a warrior of light and you still would not've remembered." She bit the head off of her cookie and pointed at him with the rest of it. "Hells, you barely remembered me in Thanalan and that was after the spell broke."

"Well I remember you now," Zhai'a retorted. "And do not speak as though you remembered me before I introduced myself."

His tail started to swish but he stopped it out of habit.

"Don't worrry." Still examining his feet, the Seeker spoke up. "You can leave your tail frrree. You won't hit me."

"Ah, right, thank you," Zhai'a replied quietly. His tail resumed its movement. "And you've my sincerest apologies that you must witness all of this."

The Seeker laughed. "No, no, there's no need to apologise," she said. "'Witness all of this'? You do know wherrre you arrre, rrright? This is Ul'dah, mate." She took on a formal accent and smiled sweetly. "My atelierrr is simply closed for an appointment with some mages, and as these mages are Lyla Sylvie, Lalai Lai, and you, Zhai'a Nelhah, I will witness nothing unless you will me to."

The Seeker stood up and spoke to him with her normal accent again. "Now, I'm going to fetch some more styles for you to trrry on. Feel very frrree to keep talking. It'll help me get a better rrread on yourrr aether when we test them out before and after the outsole engraving."

"Perfect," went Lalai.

"Wonderful," Lyla agreed.

"Excellent, thank you," Zhai'a said quickly.

The Seeker darted off through a curtained doorway.

Zhai'a pulled up the vermillion hood of his top and poured himself some tea.

"She said she would not witness what we did not will, yet I feel as though I've been threatened."

Lyla decapitated another cookie mage. "That's because the rest of that phrase is 'Or I shall witness everything until you pay me not to.'"

Zhai'a paused before returning the teapot to the table. "... Of course it is."

Lalai snickered. "What did you expect?"

Zhai'a threw up his arm as he took a sip. "I don't know. Then why did she not finish it?"

Lalai was beside herself with laughter. "We really must work on your observational skills."

"Zhai'a," Lyla said and pointed at her face, "I'm the Warrior of Moonlight."

[empty-and-nameless]

14 DAYS - KIM SEOKJIN

MASTERLIST

[«] Part 1

[»] Part 3

|pairings| kim seokjin x fem reader

|genre| second-chance, love triangle

|warnings| mentions of divorce, depression, workaholic, alcohol abuse, may contain some sexual scenes, swearing

|rating| PG 16 and over, mdin

|word count| 2.26k

|authors note| please tell me in the comments if I should make a taglist and if you want to be in it!!!! Should I make a seperate story about Kaiya and Namjoon?

PART 2 - DAY 2

"Hello? Yes, I've been holding the line for like 30 minutes now. I wanna order flowers and can you deliver them to a certain place? 10 minutes? Ok, I'll wait." Jin said walking up and down in his apartment, holding the phone to his ear. The flower delivery company is now making him wait another 10 minutes. Jin glances towards Namjoon who's sitting at the counter side-eyeing Jin the whole time. "What? You have a problem?" Jin said angrily towards Namjoon. Namjoon rolled his eyes and said "I get it you want to try and win her over but only giving her presents that she could also buy herself will not make her go back to you."

Jin hesitated for a moment. "But the plan is that I will send her a few nice things and work my way into her heart until she'll finally talk to me again. She has to think about me again first. And if I surprise her with things or do things that will make her think of me than I have a better chance of talking to her again soon. It'll melt her heart and dig up her soft spot for me." Jin said with dedication in his voice which left Namjoon no choice but to disagree. "Thank you again for not telling anyone, especially not Kaiya. I know she hates me." Jin thanked Namjoon. "She doesn't hate you. She just doesn't leave a good word about you at the moment. Let's put it this way."

Namjoon said scratching his head. He knows better than anyone that after Y/N's and Jin's break-up, Kaiya took Y/N's side and isn't on good terms with Jin. Which makes Namjoon very sad considering they all were best friends some day.

"Jin don't you think you should deliver the flowers to her home instead of her office. I think a bouquet would put her in a weird position, considering her co-workers will see it. They'll think she has a new lover again." Namjoon said trying to make Jin listen to him. "That is not a bad idea...No not you. Can I finally order, hello? Yes I would like a bouquet of..." Jin said first trying to answer Namjoon, but then going back to talking to the delivery guy, that thought this whole conversation was about him offering Jin some carnations instead of the ones he ordered. All while walking away from the kitchen to his room. His voice sounding very distant.

Y/N fell into her office chair with a big sigh. After 4 meetings and two marketing conferences, she is very ready to head out of the office for today. But first she needs to sign a few forms, which ties her up in her office chair. At least her office has a great view over the city. Now onto signing. A knock on the door interrupted Y/N's work-flow. Could be Gabriella asking her to look through some documents, Y/N thought. "Come in!" she shouted. A man carrying a huge bouquet of red roses entered the room. "I have a delivery for Y/F/N." The man said. "But I haven't ordered those." Y/N answered him confused. "Someone did." The man said and left the room with out further mention.

At least Y/N did not have to pay for those flowers, wouldn't want to pay for something she didn't order, especially not for a type of flower she doesn't even remotely like. One thing about Y/N is that she hates the ordinary. Like for example red roses, she's never been a roses type of girl. It's too cliche for her liking. But she guessed that the sender might not've known that or her in that case. A little card stuck out of the roses like a sore thumb. The card said 'Roses only for the prettiest business woman I know~J'. Who could J be? It couldn't be Jin, Y/N thought. He wouldn't do that would he? Or is it a part of his weird little plan. Who else was there? Must be Jin...Y/N roller her eyes at this stupid attempt to woo her and paid no further mind to it. What's the point in racking your brains over it? So, she packed up her things and took her roses with her to go home. Kaiya was waiting for her in her apartment. They intended to meet up for today and Kaiya has the keys to Y/N's new home anyway, she's the only one to have them thus far. Kaiya, Namjoon's wife works as an assistant on film set's. That's were Namjoon, Jin and her also met. Jin has been keeping himself busy with small acting roles, it's his passion and he can live off of it. While Namjoon has been a director and cinematograph for some movies, all three of them became friends through work (Namjoon has known Jin since high school too) and Y/N happened to already be Jin's girlfriend since high school.

As Y/N arrived at her destination, her own apartment, a short walk from the office. The first thing she sees is Kaiya, rading her fridge. "Uhm, excuse you? Don't you have your own home with your own fridge? Is Joonie not feeding you?" Y/N said sarcastically. "I do, but Namjoon is on this healthy organic food trip and I'm not up for it. Avocado Toast and feta cheese is everything I get to eat at home. Believe it or not my poop is as green as your wallpaper girl. So you better let me have your chocolate." Kaiya complained. As Kaiya turned towards Y/N, she caught a glimpse of the red roses in Y/N's arms. "Who in the hell is sending you red roses? You sure these are for you?" Kaiya bombarded Y/N with questions instantly. Y/N wished she would've thought about it sooner and hid them instead of now having to be interrogated by Kaiya.

"I don't know, it says the sender's name is J. I don't know a lot of people with the letter J though." Y/N said nonchalantly. "How can you be so calm abou that. You have a secret admirer, baby." Kaiya said, now fully stoked, she wouldn't be as stoked if she knew about Jin's plan. "Why me though. I don't need an admirer. I need a raise." Y/N argued flicking her hair proudly. Kaiya rolled her eyes at her. She has always wished for Y/N to put herself out there again. She wants Y/N to be happy and in love again, for there is more to life than work.

"Work isn't everything." Kaiya said teasingly while throwing herself on the couch. Y/N just shook her head joining Kaiya. Somehow she is still wondering who this J person might be. And why exactly he sent her red roses, the most romantic flowers of them all. Ugh, the bouquet is really pretty but not fitting her interior, which is a white lie, its rather not fitting her personality.

After a few moments of silence, both women scrolling on their phones, their legs crossed over each others, there's suddenly a knock at the door. But not only some knock, a knock that is rather familiar to Y/N. Three short knocks abrubtly after each other, a long pause and one loud knock after that. Only one person that Y/N knows, knocks like that. Jin. It's his signature knock. Y/N hesitates to get up and open the door. Is she ready to face him yet. "You're going to get the door or not?" Kaiya said annoyed. Y/N got up and slapped Kaiya's thigh, which earned her a rough "Hey!" from Kaiya who doesn't even know why Y/N is so flustered right now. It's just a knock. But it isn't, it's a memory.

With shaky hands Y/N turned the door knob and was surprised with an unknown face. Another flower delivery guy. "Hello, Delivery for Mrs. Kim." He said. "I-...Yes that's me." Y/N stuttered, rather shocked. She saw no use in correcting the delivery guy about her name, for it wouldn't be of importance for this young delivery man anyways and adding onto that, the divorce wasn't even finalized. But Y/N would never say that out loud. The man cleared his throat loudly to knock Y/N out of her thoughts and handed her the bouquet, which Y/N just now took a look at. And to her it was just breathtaking. It was an exact replica of her wedding bouquet. A beautiful set of wildflowers that mirror Y/N's personality perfectly. The flowers Jin and her picked on the night before their wedding because Y/N's bouquet broke last minute and she had a mental breakdown calling Jin in tears. A few of these stray tears have specked themselves onto Y/N's eyes, which she blinked away quickly.

Y/N's was fully in trance, looking with awe at the flowers in her hands, she didn't even realize that the delivery guy left and Kaiya was looking over her shoulder at the bouquet. "Wow, two bouquets in one day. This man must really love you then." She said to Y/N, stealing the card out of the bouquet before Y/N could even take a look at it. She gasped and tried to snatch it away from Kaiya. Kaiya just proceeded to run from Y/N, while reading the little letter out loud breathlessly. "To my beautiful wife Y/N ahahaha...wait." Kaiya stopped in her tracks. She was standing on top of the couch frozen in her position, one foot on Y/N's head trying to push her away from herself. "This bastard."

Y/N was not only shocked by Kaiya's choice of words (she's already used to her dirty mouth), but about the fact that her suspicion was true and the flowers actually were from Jin. Which meant that the first flowers couldn't have been from him. The first delivery guy even called her by her maiden name. Jin would be way too petty to call her by her maiden name, to him she still is Mrs. Kim. And the special knock of the second delivery guy was also a sign. It was Jin. The flower choice made it even more obvious. Jin knows her like the back of his hand. She isn't a rose girl. But if these flowers were Jin's, who is J, the one that sent Y/N the roses? Well, that wasn't important right now. More important was to try and tame a wild and angry Kaiya, who is just now calling her own husband and shouting at him.

"No, you listen to me Kim Namjoon. I know you have something to do with this. Or you know something about it. You hang out with Seokjin all the fucking time. Tell me what you fucking know or I'll divorce you right now!...I know how divorces work stop fucking mansplaining!....Shut the fuck up I curse how much I want to. No you stop it. He should leave her alone and sign the damn papers. Is he with you now? At our house! Im coming home and he better be gone!" with that Kaiya hung up on Namjoon and looked over to Y/N. "I'm sorry he's bothering you honey. We'll fix this. Let's concentrate on your secret admirer, huh?" Kaiya said in a baby voice. Y/N just nodded, not trying to argue with Kaiya. It would make her even angrier to know that Y/N actually liked Jin's bouquet better and that she was touched by his memory of their wedding day and bouquet.

"Forget that prick. I'm going now we'll see each other soon. Thank you for the chocolate. I love you bye." Kaiya said angrily ripping Jin's little letter in half and storming out of the door. "Love you. Bye." Y/N whispered to a not-present-anymore Kaiya.

Though Y/N knew Kaiya only wanted to protect her, her curiosity got the best of her and she put the pieces of Jin's letter together and read it.

To my beautiful wife Y/N,

I heard that not only food but also flowers are the way to a woman's heart. That's why I sent you both. I know you may think that I'm trying to bribe my way back to you, but I'm not. I'm just not sure if you're ready to face me again just yet, or if I am ready to face you, without my heart bursting.

Well, anyways. These flowers. Do you remember them? They are like the one's you carried towards the altar at our wedding day. The same one's that Kaiya caught at our wedding day, making her the next one to get married. These flowers are like you. Hard to be tamed and free as a wild mustang. But at the same time beautiful and delicate. That's what I will always see in you, my Y/N.

P.S.: Please don't cry when you see them. I know you are a cry baby.

P.P.S.: Jin 2, Y/N 0.

Indeed, Jin was right. These flowers made Y/N's heart skip a beat. But at the same time, she is still in denial about that as she caught herself smiling while reading the letter. As fast as she did, she shook the smile of and sighed. It just doesn't work like that Jin... Or does it?

[penname-artist]

For the Clutch and Tyker!

First, reading about how close they seem, how protective is one about the other? Like for example if anyone made fun of Tyker, would Clutch beat them to the pulp?

Then what do they do with eachother with their freetime?

[Humanised] Lastly, does Clutch ever insist on Tyker being lil' more active or finding a side hobby or something for his own well-being?

Ooooh, all great questions!

In the time they've been together, they've definitely grown quite protective of each other, for sure. Clutch is the one who goes out most often, so she tends to carry the bulk of that when it comes to other people's pressure. A lot of the times she gets asked what she thinks she's supposed to do providing for Tyker, who doesn't/can't work, while it's not *technically* meant to be her job to take care of him. People have called her foolish for that. She turns the other cheek; if she hadn't chosen to stay with Tyker, there might not've been a Tyker. And on Tyker's end, he's aware of all that, and he always feels guilty about it even though there's so little he can seem to will himself to do (work being one of the most grueling). He tries to support Clutch emotionally in the best ways he can, but he's still learning not to feel like a burden on her.

And they do a lot when they get free time, though it's rarely ever beyond the house. On those occasions, Clutch will push Tyker to go and fly around and get some idea of the health of his engines, but given he flies so infrequently (and fuel is so costly) he's been going out less and less.

At home they kick each other's asses at video games all the time, from first-person shooters to old 8-bit games. Tyker has yet to reclaim the Mario Kart crown he lost some months back. And they binge television, though Clutch only stays awake to pay attention if it's 90s cartoons. She grew up with Nickelodeon.

And oh definitely. Having put up with living with him for the last five years, she's tried to get him into a lot of things and hobbies. He has a half-alive aloe vera in the window sill that he's trying to figure out what to do with. But he knows how to crochet, for...some reason. It's just something to keep his hands busy, he makes donations to shelters if and when he can make things. And Clutch hadn't taught him that, she assumes he picked it up on YouTube after rediscovering leftover crochet projects from his grandmother. In his words, "well we had to do something with all that yarn."

[theiloveyousong]

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Slim, I wrote you but you still ain't callin'

I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom

I sent two letters back in autumn, you must not've got 'em

There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'

Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em

But anyways, fuck it, what's been up, man? How's your daughter?

My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm 'bout to be a father

If I have a daughter, guess what I'ma call her?

I'ma name her Bonnie

I read about your uncle Ronnie too, I'm sorry

I had a friend kill himself over some bitch who didn't want him

I know you probably hear this every day, but I'm your biggest fan

I even got the underground shit that you did with Skam

I got a room full of your posters and your pictures, man

I like the shit you did with Rawkus too, that shit was phat

Anyways, I hope you get this, man, hit me back

Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan

This is Stan

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance

I ain't mad, I just think it's fucked up you don't answer fans

If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your concert

You didn't have to, but you could've signed an autograph for Matthew

That's my little brother, man, he's only six years old

We waited in the blistering cold for you

For four hours and you just said, "No"

That's pretty shitty, man, you're like his fuckin' idol

He wants to be just like you, man, he likes you more than I do

I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein' lied to

Remember when we met in Denver, you said if I'd write you you would write back

See, I'm just like you in a way

I never knew my father neither

He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her

I can relate to what you're saying in your songs

So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put 'em on

'Cause I don't really got shit else, so that shit helps when I'm depressed

I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest

Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds

It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me

See, everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it

My girlfriend's jealous 'cause I talk about you 24/7

But she don't know you like I know you Slim, no one does

She don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up, you gotta call me, man

I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose

Sincerely yours, Stan

P.S. we should be together too

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Mr. I'm Too Good To Call Or Write My Fans

This will be the last package I ever send your ass

It's been six months and still no word, I don't deserve it?

I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect

So this is my cassette I'm sending you, I hope you hear it

I'm in the car right now, I'm doing ninety on the freeway

Hey Slim, I drank a fifth of vodka

You dare me to drive?

You know the song by Phil Collins, "In the Air of the Night"

About that guy who could have saved that other guy from drowning

But didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a a show he found him?

That's kinda how this is, you coulda rescued me from drowning

Now it's too late, I'm on a thousand downers now, I'm drowsy

And all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call

I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall

I love you Slim, we coulda been together, think about it

You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it

And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you scream about it

I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breathe without me

See Slim, shut up bitch, I'm tryna talk

Hey Slim, that's my girlfriend screamin' in the trunk

But I didn't slit her throat, I just tied her up, see I ain't like you

'Cause if she suffocates, she'll suffer more, and then she'll die too

Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now

Oh shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy

You said your girlfriend's pregnant now, how far along is she?

Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daughter that

And here's an autograph for your brother

I wrote it on a Starter cap

I'm sorry I didn't see you at the show, I must've missed you

Don't think I did that shit intentionally just to diss you

But what's this shit you said about you like to cut your wrists too?

I say that shit just clownin', dawg, come on, how fucked up is you?

You got some issues, Stan, I think you need some counseling

To help your ass from bouncing off the walls when you get down some

And what's this shit about us meant to be together?

That type of shit'll make me not want us to meet each other

I really think you and your girlfriend need each other

Or maybe you just need to treat her better

I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time

Before you hurt yourself, I think that you'll be doin' just fine

If you relax a little, I'm glad I inspire you but Stan

Why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as a fan

I just don't want you to do some crazy shit

I seen this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick

Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge

And had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid

And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to

Come to think about, his name was, it was you

Damn!

omg so me