#sweep them cheeps

[charming-cherry0]

before the ucl semis i made to mistake to say that " if i had to choose between city winning the treble again or the mavericks winning the championchip i would choose the mavs ,

now that city lost the ucl and the FA cup

the mavs better win it all

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

hallooo thank you so much for revisiting the catnip prompt!

maybe you've done it before too but i just suddenly thought about energy efficient FL and thought maybe i could share here? alslgkf feel free to ignore-

but i kept thinking about what if foul legacy shrunk down whenever he's low energy?

he leaves the house barely fitting through the door and then by the time the afternoon arrives all you'll hear is... a soft whizzing? buzzing? it sounded all too sparkly to be a bug though.

before you know it - something hits your nose and it's like cotton on your face. it's legacy. he's roughly the size of a hamster, and even sounds like one with his chittering pitched up.

his size would depend on how much energy he burned for the day, sometimes he's barely changed from his usual towering height, others, he would hide in cups and mugs to surprise you. sometimes he's the size of a cat, purring on your lap and maybe even kneading biscuits.

if you're feeling a little upset, he'd dash out the door, come back palm sized and nuzzle into your hand just to be cute (he enjoys you tossing him high and catching him in that size too). He could also cozy up the crook of your neck, leaving ticklish pecks along your jaw.

sometimes that might end up in you waking up from naps and cuddled up to a regular sized ajax instead but i don't think that's a con to all this?

but that's just me asjalhdfk 👉👈

there are absolutely no cons to this, none whatsoever :)

the best part of the day is always coming home from work and guessing what size Foul Legacy will be- if he's normal-sized and towering over you, he'll probably be right at the door, waiting to sweep you into his arms. if he's small, however, he hides around the house for you to find him, under beds and blankets and inside teacups or bowls. there's always a little chirrup of delight when you do find him, easily able to pick him up due to his smaller size and cradle him either in your arms or the palms of your hands. he can absolutely tell when you're not feeling well, even if you haven't said anything, cheeping softly and rolling over in your hands so you can pet his head with your thumbs- it's very funny when he playfully bites your fingers like he's trying to eat them, he's so small that he resembles a fuzzy sparkly snake trying to unhinge its jaw as he gnaws on your skin. you can't help but laugh at the sweet sight, and Legacy happily begins letting out a tiny purr when he sees your eyes glow with that familiar brightness

it's optimal to run errands on the days Legacy is tiny since you can tuck him into your pocket or the collar of your shirt or even a scarf, if you're wearing one! he prefers to curl up and bury himself against your neck, his purrs sounding like a light buzzing as you pick up your groceries and drop off your mail. you can lift a singular strawberry up to your shoulder without looking, and quick as a whip little claws reach out and snatch it, Foul Legacy nibbling and crunching the sweet fruit with delight. of course, you'll have to set him down somewhere warm and cozy once you get home since he's used up so much energy, a tiny yawn coming from his fanged maw as he settles in for a nap. wait an hour or two, though, and you'll be approached from behind by a normal-sized Legacy, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground so he can nuzzle his head affectionately against your neck

[junewild]

i'm sitting on the porch of a house built in 1847 (the oldest american house in this state, in fact). it was designed in the southern style, which means that a cool breeze is sweeping across the wide, columned porch. there used to be an enormous rosebush just in front of me, but now the roses have been moved further from the house. clouds are obscuring the sun. this is the kind of day i remember from childhood summers--pleasant and warm, not overbearing. all it needs are more butterflies.

in the distance, the electrical station hums. two owls are hooting softly at each other. i hear a crow cawing. another one joins it. they scream, then settle back into silence. further into the trees, birds are chirping and cheeping. cars fade in and then back out. at this distance, they sound more like water than engine.

it smells like warm barkdust and wet ferns. someone watered the new flowers just before i got here. if the breeze were blowing in the other direction, i would be able to smell the sweet, soft scent of a rose garden. my eyelids are heavy.

i can still taste the homemade blueberry muffin i had for breakfast. i make them the way my mother does--stuffed full of blueberries, with a sugar crust over the top. it's hard to eat just one. there's another one tucked in my bag for lunch. it takes willpower not to just pull it out right now, but it will taste even better for an hour of patience.

the rim of this chair is digging into my back, but i don't mind. the world is too beautiful today to be bothered for long. (i know i'll feel it when i get home. there's already a knot the size of a shoulder-blade next to my shoulder-blade. luckily i have a physical therapy appointment on wednesday.)

i'm happy.

[scarletooyoroi]

dining with the qixing, keqing had officially brought along thoma to the meeting feast with intentions beyond proving to the other members of her budding romance - she genuinely wanted him there for support and her hearts comfort. with the event drawing to an end, the yuheng politely gets up from her seat to take a few steps to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear - "i want you, beloved." lips that brushed against his ear, imprints a small kiss upon his cheep before she pulling away; signaling their departure unto privacy for them alone.

It was no small honor to find himself adjusted into this particular circle. Experience found itself invaluable and most importantly, the strength of the very person by his side allowed softness and steel to find the appropriate blend. There were many moments shared where they found themselves exercising the course of their teamwork, making it no secret that their paths while having their own driven beliefs, found a balance that intends to burn a genuine path forward.

He couldn't stress the pride he felt through words alone. For all of the pain endured, blood shed, and new understandings made, Thoma swears there was a distinct shine within her eye that intends to blaze beyond the defined notion of lightning.

As the night rolls deeper into a more distinct stillness, the truth was found in the rumors that Liyue was a land that never truly sleeps. The constant rhythm of the populace moves even now as they're preparing for their departure. Trained conduct prevents him from being too carefree until the event's very end, yet, there was a puncturing factor that never could've been anticipated in that moment. Lips that could declare the bravest battle cries ebbing to a particular softness, that welcomed vulnerability of the heart.

Yet ever forward. Keqing was someone who never hides what she truly intends to do. The red hot blood that vibrantly burns within him edges to searing at the distinct meaning of her words, drawing consciousness to that ever present hunger that's grown so incredibly selfish for her. A short, sharp gasp is skillfully quelled from being too loud, the warmth of her grace through that loving kiss being enough to make the Fixer's mind race.

"...Got'cha, Keqing."

Just as she exemplified through inviting him, the same sentiment is reflected upon their departure. A proud arm adjusted over her shoulders, shamelessness in the insurance of pulling the Yuheng close, allowing for his warmth to be the force that dissuades all chill away from her during the abruptly colder night upon Liyue's stone streets. There was a form of happiness they found themselves proud in allowing to be known.

All the same? The privacy back to her residence reflects the fire that flocks unrestrained once the shadows and their sole sight are all that remained. Hesitation remains non-existent in his mind as he suddenly draws her to a nearby wall, broad and supportive hands sweeping up glittering periwinkle hair and seizing a fine grip upon her hip. As they're pressed flushed together, that urgency finds itself snapped by a hair pull trigger, and he simply just couldn't help himself.

Indulge. Indulge. Revel in the fact you found her absolutely stunning in her attire and you wanted that to be known. Her lips would be a constant target for his intentions, meshed with his heated tiers in kind, drinking deeper from her bliss and that loving voice while tenderly cradling her head in kind. That endless battle of impatience balanced with savoring was also going to be appreciated, time would be made and taken.

He intends to give her every reason to wrap herself around him as much as she can.

@starwrote

[alastgoodnight]

Of course, she doesn't want to hurt the adorable (and apparently living) dust bunnies, so she's been gently lifting them up in her dust bin and moving them around to wherever she isn't working on sweeping and wiping things down.

They chitter and cheep in response.

[ghostiesimpilton]

Pt 2 Of Are You Gonna Cry?

Fluff +angst at first

930 words

Based off of  pebble brain by love joy

Ive had most of this written when i posted the first part but thanks to christmas brake i got mottivation to finnally finnish it 

Enjoy :DDD CHAPTER 2

Later that afternoon Y/N and the guys went down to Nick's apartment, it was actually quite a nice place, it had a pretty good view, it was close to everything, and for a london apartment it was for the most part cheep, of course he might not be able to afford it now that Y/N is not paying most of the rent. She walked up to the door and knocked. “Well isn't it the queen and her entourage” Nick pouted, Y/N, and maybe even a few of the guys could tell he’d been crying. They’d almost feel bad if they didn't know what he put Y/Nthrough for the past three years. “ Can you please just give us her stuff so we can leave'' Simon piped up “ I'M NOT GIVING HER SHIT TILL SHE LETS ME TALK TO HER'' There were many objections from the guys but all Y/N said was a small, but strong “ alright” “ I already gathered her things in boxes  by the way” Nick replied scarily calm”you lot can just grab em’ while we talk'' the two walked down the small hallway as the guys gathered boxes from around the flat. “ ya know I can't really blame you for falling for Harry'' Nick chuckled off puttingly “ but I miss when it was us kissing in the back seat of MY car” Y/Ns stomach dropped, she quickly tried to get away, but was slammed back against the wall by Nick. The sound alerted JJ, who wasn't really helping the guys, and quickly ran over punching Nick in the nose, most likely breaking it. Harry also ran over trying to comfort Y/N. “ I can smell her FUCKING perfume on you, you fucking bastard, did you do more then kiss her in youre car” Nick said, blood gushing out of his nose. No one said anything, afew of the guys helped Nick onto his couch and made sure he stayed there, Y/N and Harry did a final sweep of the flat, finding a few pairs of underwear and shirts left in the dresser, whether he left those on purpose or not it still freaked both of them out. They walk out of the bedroom listening to a conversation between the guys. “ Nick really, how can you look at yourself and not want to hit yourself like c'mon man” JJ said practically laughing “ you can't blame me really” “ yeah you kinda put this on yourself dickwad” Ethan said, the rest of the boys erupting in laughter. Y/N looked at the guys and they got the message all grabbed something and began walking out, Harry being the last one in line flipped Nick off before hastily closing the door. “Just put them in the car, me and Harry can take it all into his flat ourselves.” Y/N said. “OoO living at Harry's,” Simon mocked. Y/N shoulder checked him, almost knocking boxes out of both their arms, “Hey now!” he replied in a joking manner.

As Y/N and Harry were carrying boxes into the flat, Harry asked “ Hey would you maybe want to be part of the next sidemen shoot?” “Yeah of course” Y/N replied swiftly “YES” Harry looked so excited Y/N couldn't help but smile at the goofy man. “Bog?” “yeah” “I love you” “I love you too Y/N'' the pair touched their foreheads together smiling, suddenly Harry pulled Y/Nin for a kiss. It was a very beautiful moment until, “well well well what do we have here”, “FREEZY KNOCK NEXT TIME!” Harry snapped “ WHAT DO YOU MEAN KNOCK THIS IS THE FUCkING KITCHEN BOG” Cal snapped back “and i would really like a snack so if you two could take this to your room that would be great” Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed Y/Ns hand and scampered up the stairs to his room. Almost immediately they began making out; they stumbled over Y/Ns unpacked boxes trying to reach the bed. They made out for a few more minutes before deciding they were done for now. “ let's unpack your stuff now that you're home” harrold said “ I think that's just a wonderful idea bog” Y/N replied they beagan unpacking boxes harry occasionally making fun of Y/N shirts and or stuffed animals “ Y/NN you are just so cute” Harry said adorably “ well obviously” Y/N smugly replied Harry ran over and picked her up from behind her legs flailing “HARROLD LET ME DOWN” She said giggling “ NOT TILL YOU STOP BEING ARROGANT PRINCESS” Harry said trying not to laugh (and ultimately failing) He then proceed to carry her over to his bed and threw her onto it. Then jumping in himself. They were both laughing messes. Harry opened his phone to check the time. “ holy shit!” “ what” Y/N responded at the end of her giggles “its fuckin 2 am” “ HAVE WE REALLY BEEN AT THIS FOR THAT LONG” Y/N replied absolutely amazed.

 “ I guess we should be getting to bed then, '' Harry said looking lovingly at Y/N. “ I guess we should,” Y/N replied, smiling giddily at him. Harry turned off the lights and they both snuggled into bed together. Y/N fell asleep first of course, hugging Harry as if she was going to lose him. Harry never wanted this moment to end, he was in pure bliss. He loves soft breaths on his chest, the feeling she gives him. At that moment it was solidified that he would do absolutely anything for her. With this thought he slowly drifted to sleep, ready for whatever life had to throw at him, knowing that she’d be right there by his side.

[eddawrites]

A drabble for @jaycetalisweek2022

Prompt: Jayce & Music + Jayce & Family ——————————————

Little Viktoriya Talis, as it turned out, was a handful. Jayce should’ve anticipated it, really, given the many tales of his rambunctious undertakings—oftentimes things that he didn’t even remember—that his dear mother Ximena had recounted to Mel in the months before the baby was due and then some, more stories surfacing with each new parental woe they’d confide in her about. The latest being the abduction of a cheeping sparrow chick who had strayed too far from its nest whilst practicing flight.

“That puts me in the mind of when Jayce was young…” she would say and Jayce would roll his eyes, anticipating yet another embarrassing anecdote that he’d rather stayed buried in the void of his subconscious as well as the annals of Ximena Talis’s memory.

Jayce suspected that it gave her a sadistic sort of joy to abash him in front of his spouse so. It was wholly unfair, too, because Mel would memorise each of Ximena’s stories and tease him relentlessly or worse, relate them to Viktoriya’s latest escapade. As if it was his fault the girl took after him!

And of course, he was helpless to retaliate in kind. Mel’s childhood was not the kind you’d joke about and even now, years later, she kept the details close to her chest, or, on rare occasion, committed to the canvas where they took form of hazy abstraction, as inaccessible to him as the depths of Mel’s mind that the images have emerged from.

Aged little over three and recently learnt to walk—much like her father she had a stiff waddle to her step—little Viktoriya could somehow outrace her nanny and even the housekeeper Rosa whose qualifications included herding stray cats away from wastebins and chasing them from the kitchens.

She was a menace to the household, running down the corridors with merry abandon, babbling to herself in invented languages nobody could understand.

But you wouldn’t know it when Jayce sweeps her in his arms at the end of the day, pliant as an angel, and places her in the crib, big gold-rimmed eyes blinking drowsily when he sends the intricate crystal mobile he’d made himself spinning overhead and begins to sing a lullaby:

Dear friend across the river My hands are cold and bare Dear friend across the river I'll take what you can spare I ask of you a penny My fortune it will be I ask you without envy We raised almighty towers Our homes are built of stone So come across the river And find the world below

His voice skips over the notes unevenly, creating a sort of grating cacophony that nevertheless helps his baby daughter conquer sleep a whopping thirty-six percent quicker than otherwise. He had scientific proof to back it up! Every evening he would start the song with setting a stopwatch and let it count the minutes until her eyes closed. Just to exercise his scientific mind after the long hours spent politicking. The results of his little experiment were clear.

Mel had joked on occasion that he was causing an irreparable damage to their daughter’s hearing and musical taste. But he would point out that whenever he’d try to coax her to sleep by strumming his lute, she’d start crying bloody murder and wake half the Bluewind Court instead. And all that in spite of his lute skills charming many a girl’s—or boy’s—heart in his youth.

“Is that how you’ve learnt to pluck at my heartstrings so?” she would ask him with an impish smile.

And he would smirk and say: “No. I developed that talent just for you.” then press a charming kiss on the back of her hand.

“You do have a pleasant voice, though” she would note after. “We just need to work on your technique.”

If only there was time for such trivialities. In between politics and an ever-looming threat of war, his inventions and managing the Talis family business and the moments in between, reserved just for the two of them. If only their little scamp did not insist on escaping from her own bedroom and interrupting when least opportune. At times she would scream herself awake from the wild dreams stirred by her overactive imagination, in which case they would allow her to climb into their bed and envelop her with their bodies for comfort, cradling her to sleep together, and Jayce would murmur the song over and over until at last she would doze off, for good this time.

“But why that song in particular?” Mel had asked once.

“So that she wouldn’t make the same mistakes we have.”

[rrazor]

chickadees | fukurodani

summary: you, fukurodani's boys volleyball club manager, have turned into a baby. what do the boys do?

chpt. one (here). two. 

“the robin peeped, pip pip!”

“pip! pip!”

“the sparrows chirped, cheep cheep!”

“cheep cheep!”

“the doves cooed, croo, croo!”

“croo!”

“and owl couldn’t sleep.”

you look up at bokuto. “no sweep for owl-shan?”

he shakes his head. “no sleep for owl! everyone else in the tree is making too much noise.”

you hum softly, nodding your head in understanding as you pat his forearm, urging him to continue, “more, pwease, kou-chama!”

bokuto nods, laughing bubbly as he leaves a soft peck on your temple.  konoha watches from the centre of the gym. you’re sitting in bokuto’s lap as he uses the club’s ipad to read you children stories. you eat everything up, hanging onto his every word. konoha can’t help the smile breaking across his face.

“konoha-san.”

he turns around.

“hey, did you get the stuff?”

akaashi nods and washio hands over the plastic bag with everything they got from the convenience store.

“how are they doing?” washio asks.

konoha points his thumb over at the two of you. “bokuto’s been reading her stories the whole time.”

akaashi smiles fondly. “looks fun.”

washio nods, a similar smile on his face.

“kou-chama!” you look up at him with all the wonder in the world.

“yes?” he looks down at you, lowering the ipad. bokuto can’t explain how much joy he feels when you look at him the way you do—glittery eyes and wide smile, all the love and warmth in the world emanating from your small body.

“kou-chama sweepy?”

he smiles, pulling you in closer. “nope! not at all, i slept well last night.”

“reawly?”

he nods, sticking his pinky out. “i promise!”

you grab his finger with your whole hand, giggling. “pwomise!”

“what are you promising?”

bokuto looks up. “akaashi, you’re back!”

“kei-chama!” you squeal, cooing at him. you wave and greet washio (“tat-chama!!”) and konoha (“aki-chama!”) behind him too as they all sit down in front of you.

a soft smile graces his features. “yes, we’re done with the shopping.”

“where did everyone else go?” washio asks, patting your head as you giggle.

“we sent the girls home early,” konoha explains. “since it’s getting dark early now. komi and saru are just finishing up the laundry.”

“laun-dwee?” you chirp, tilting your head.

“la-un-dry.” konoha tilts his finger with each syllable before booping your nose. you squeal, slapping his hand as you put one over your nose. he snickers along with you.

“do you have the gym keys, bokuto-san?”

bokuto nods at akaashi, digging them out of his pocket.

“i’ll take them,” washio offers. “i’ll go help the others finish up. you guys can head back to the club room.”

thanking washio, the three of you make your way to the club room with you bundled in bokuto’s arms.

“bye bye, tat-chama! fank chew!!” you wave.

he smiles, shaking your little hand. “you’re welcome. stay safe, okay?”

“un! shafe!” you beam and the boys swears they see twinkling stars spill out of you.

outside, a pair of crows caw. you flip your head towards the direction of the calls and point your finger at the birdies.

“kou-chama!! cwows!”

“yeah!” he smiles, patting your bum, a warm feeling of pride spreading across his chest. “they’re crows! you know what sounds they make?”

you put your hand down on his bicep, tilting your head in thought before nodding and throwing your arms up, waving them around, exclaiming, “caw caw!”

bokuto laughs, throwing his free arm up and waving it as well. “caw caw!”

you giggle loudly in response, head tilting forward to lean on his shoulder. bokuto chuckles along with you, holding you close.  the two of you turn around, staring at konoha and akaashi expectantly. they look at each other briefly before smiling and copying the two of you.

“caw caw!”

putting your hands on your cheeks, you coo in delight. “kyaha!”

the three boys mimic you by putting their hands (hand, in bokuto’s case) on their cheeks and letting out a cute, albeit much deeper, “kyaha!”

you burst into another round of loud giggles, your laughter racking your tiny body as you fall forward onto bokuto’s shoulder again.  your laughter is contagious. fond tenderness and unbridled joy spills into their hearts at your giddy expression and tinkling giggles.

“sho funny,” you mumble, tired out from all the laughter.

“sho funny,” the three repeat, mimicking your baby babble, sending you into another, albeit quieter bout of giggles.

though the sun is setting, the sky is slowly turning a soft, dark cerulean blue and it’s the middle of october, the boys feel warm.

[sergeantsporks]

Hey could you do Hunter getting getting injuries treated at the owl house? Like some hurt/comfort. If you want to write a non compliant Hunter that’s be really cool but thanks so much! I just love your owl house fics 🦉🪶

<3 Thank you!

Hunter yawned, the tip of his staff dipping through the air. He pulled himself back up. Just a little further until Bonesborough, and then he could make a pit stop, take a little nap, or at least grab some coffee. He rubbed his eyes. Okay, so maybe he should stop taking quite so many missions. But since he’d returned with the titan’s blood, Belos had been so pleased, and he wanted to keep that going, and obviously there wasn’t anything huge he could do, but if he kept taking all of the little missions, that would probably keep him in a good spot, right?

Hunter shook himself as he started to drift off again. “Bad,” he scolded himself, “Stay awake.”

He heard the sound of wingbeats behind him, and he twisted back. A griffin. Great.

Hunter dove to avoid the bird, but it chased him, shrieking. Probably a new mother. Well, he didn’t intend on being baby food.

Hunter swooped and swerved to the side, just barely dodging a swipe of claws.

If he’d just been a little more alert and less sleepy, he probably would have been able to see and avoid the tailstrike.

As it was, the griffin’s tail caught him right in the chest, knocking him off of his staff.

Hunter screamed as he tumbled through the air, clawing for his staff. His palisman fluttered out of his pocket, grabbing the back of his tunic in its claws and frantically flapping its wings.

It didn’t help much.

He slammed into the top branch of a tree, all of the air leaving his lungs with a whoof as the tree branch cracked under the force of his fall. The world blacked out.

When Hunter came to, it was because everything hurt too much for him to stay out. He groaned. His head felt dizzy, light, and everything ached—but especially his left leg, which throbbed painfully.

Hunter managed to pry his eyes open to see the ground, still far below, his staff too far beyond his reach, and his palisman lying dazed a few branches below.

“Ah!”

Hunter twisted to look up, biting his lip as the movement made his whole body scream in protest. He was hanging upside-down, his left foot caught between two branches. Hunter’s stomach heaved. Feet were… not supposed to bend that way.

Hunter strained to pull himself up and grab the next branch, but the shift made a wave of pain sweep up from his broken foot, and his vision went spotty.

Hunter relaxed, breathing heavily. Okay. This was… this was fine. He could get out of this.

Somehow.

Xxx

“Going to the library for some books, bye, Eda!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, books, sure, say hi to bossy-boots for me.”

Luz raced out the door and down the path, humming to herself. She tripped over a stick, and stumbled forward a few steps, looking back.

Wait.

Luz scooped up the coven staff she’d tripped on, glancing around. “Where…”

A rustle in the trees made her look up to see a very familiar white cloak and golden mask in the trees. Hunter was stuck upside down, and she suppressed a snicker.

“Need some help up there?”

“No! Go away, I’m fine!”

Luz tucked the staff in her belt, climbing up the tree and sitting on a branch next to him, scooping up Lil Rascal on the way. The trail of broken branches above Hunter indicated a pretty long fall. “Uh-huh.” She tugged off his helmet. “Can you even see out of this thing?”

Hunter swiped at her, and then yelped. “Ow! Go away! I don’t need your help!”

Luz examined the branch his foot was caught in. Oh, ow, that looked painful. “Hang on, I got this.”

She slapped a little plant glyph on the tree, and it responded to her, forming a little shelf underneath Hunter. Luz snapped the branch his foot was caught in, and he fell with a little oof to the tree shelf she’d made. Luz climbed down below him, taping a fire glyph to the bottom of the shelf and breaking the shelf, hitting the fire glyph so that it slowly lowered him to the ground.

“I said I didn’t need your help!”

Luz swung down next to him. “You’re welcome.” She held out his staff. “Hey. I know you’re mister independent or whatever, but the Owl House is literally right down the road, and you’re never going to make it back to the keep on your own, so why don’t you just come home with me, and we’ll fix your foot?”

Hunter snatched the staff back, struggling up to his feet and leaning on the staff, keeping his wounded foot up. He looked awful—besides the obvious foot problem, the dark circles under his eyes were so dark they looked like bruises, and his knuckles were white on his staff. “I said I’m fine. I jussssst… need to get to… town.”

He managed to hobble a couple of steps before he fell again, yelping.

“Wow. That’s just sad.” Luz hauled him up, slinging one of his arms around her shoulders and turning around. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“I doooooon’t… need…”

Hunter struggled weakly against her, but then gave up, going limp, his eyes sliding shut. Luz dragged him along. “Whoof—hey—wake up, you’re heavy!”

Lil Rascal cheeped in her pocket, flapping out and shifting into its staff form, hovering so that Luz could sit Hunter on top of it.

“Trrrrrraitorrrrr,” Hunter slurred, his eyes open just a crack.

Luz pushed him back towards the owl house, pushing open the door with her foot.

“HEY EDA!” she called, “CHANGE OF PLANS FOR TODAY!”

Xxx

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Why did everything have to hurt so much?!

Hunter opened his eyes, staring up at a ceiling.

Wait.

Where was he? He glanced down, the familiar weight of his armor gone. Replaced by a T-shirt that said ‘bad girl coven’ on it

“OOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo, you’re awaaaaaake!”

Hunter yelped, punching the weird bird face. “Augh!”

The bird… worm… thing… drew back. “Ow! Geeeeeeze.”

Hunter sat up so fast he nearly blacked out again. His foot was stuck in a heavy cast, healing patches on it. “Where—oh, no-!” he swung his legs over the side of the couch. “I can’t—I can’t be here, I—”

Xxx

Luz came thumping down the stairs with more healing patches in time to see Hunter try to get up, and then immediately fall back with a groan.

“Ow—ow—ow—ow—”

Luz poked her head over the couch. “Hello!”

Hunter groaned. “Just kill me now.”

Eda stuck her head out of the kitchen, where she was cooking up more explosive potions. “Did I hear that we’re killing the nerd?”

“We’re not killing anyone.” Luz smacked a healing patch on Hunter’s forehead. “Pain patch!”

He tried to get up again, then hissed, sinking back. “I—ow—I can’t—”

“Your foot is broken, Hunter, you can’t go anywhere.” Luz put another patch on his face. “There. That should make it stop hurting.”

Eda snorted. “You know too many of those have a sedative effect, right? They use sleeping nettles to make them.”

Luz twisted back to look at her. “Whoa, really?”

Eda nodded. “See for yourself.”

Luz looked back down at Hunter, whose eyes were already drifting shut. He yawned, glaring at her. “What did… you…”

“Heh. Whoops. Sorry.” Luz squinted at him. “When was the last time you slept, anyway?”

“I don’t—couple of days, I don’t know.”

Luz slapped another pain patch on him. “I take my apology back, GO TO SLEEP!”

Xxx

“Aw, look at him.” Eda poked a sleeping Hunter in the face. “Y’know, he’s actually kind of adorable when he’s not trying to kill us.”

Luz peeled off one of the old healing patches that had lost its magic, applying a new one. “He can be nice. He needs a friend.”

Eda snorted. “Luz, he’s a coven member. I’m sure he has plenty of friends back with all the other Belos-ites.”

“I don’t think he does.” Luz sat on the arm of the couch. “He seemed kind of lonely, like he has no one to talk to. I mean, he’s the head of the coven—who’s he going to talk to that isn’t treating him like their boss?”

“Whoa, hey, there, Luz. He’s fun right now, when he can’t move, but don’t forget that he’s dangerous—he beat the two of us pretty handily, held his own against Kikimora, and Amity just barely got out of her fight with him, and that was when he was stressed out of his mind. I’m not saying he can’t be nice, or that he isn’t lonely, but just… watch your step, okay?”

Luz nodded. “I’ll be careful, Eda, I promise.”

Her mentor gave her a thumbs-up and ran back to the kitchen as smoke billowed from the door. Luz spun Hunter’s helmet in her hands, slipping it on. “Ugh. How does he wear this thing all of the time?” She tugged it back off, setting it down.

“Dooooon’t touch that.”

Luz jumped. Hunter was watching her through bleary, half-closed eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he mumbled crossly, “Why can’t I move?”

Luz winced. “I miiiiiiiight have put a few too many pain patches on you. But you were really hurting!” She poked his shoulder. “Can you feel that?”

“Quit that!”

Luz stuck her tongue out at him. “Eh. Hey, did you know that half of your ribs are broken?” I think your armor probably protected you a little bit, but how high did you fall from?”

He blinked sluggishly. “I don’t know—high.”

“Man.” Luz fidgeted. “Hey, uh, Hunter? Where’d all of those scars come from?”

Hunter closed his eyes again.

“Hey! I know you’re not asleep, Hunter!”

He opened his eyes just a little bit. “They were accidents,” he grumbled, “Satisfied?”

“Accidents?”

“Yeah. Accidents.”

“Even the claw one? What was that an accident of, accidentally antagonizing a bear?”

He closed his eyes again. “Something like that.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Luz sighed. “Okay. Hey. I’m sorry. I won’t poke into your personal life anymore.”

He opened one eye. “Really?”

“No,” Luz admitted, “I’m totally going to keep poking into your personal life. But… you don’t have to answer. If you really don’t want to. Oh, hey, you thought the glyph combos were cool, wanna see my new one? Of course you do.”

Luz scribbled down a plant and fire glyph in a circle combo and squeezed it in her hand. A whip made out of fire stretched out, and she cracked it. “Neat, huh!”

“You just lit the floor on fire.”

Luz yelped, stomping on the fire. “Go out, go out, go out!”

Xxx

Hunter snorted, watching Luz struggle to put the fire out, then winced as the snort made his ribs ache. The pain patches must be wearing off.

Luz put out the fire and started chattering about how the glyph combos worked, and how folding origami could make the coolest things.

Hunter drifted off again, still groggy from the patches (and yes, okay, fine, from the all-nighters, too). When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. One single ball of light floated in the middle of the room, sending off a dim nightlight.

Night?!

Oh—he was so late—he would be in so much trouble—maybe he could pretend he was still out doing missions?

Hunter started to sit up, then fell back with a groan. Ow, his ribs.

His palisman chirped sleepily, untucking its head from its wing to blink at him. Someone—probably Luz—had propped his broken foot up with pillows and given him a blanket.

I need… to go back…

But it was warm and comfortable here, and he couldn’t move anyway, and his foot wasn't going to be better for a while, and his eyes were already drifting shut.

But maybe… maybe I can stay a little longer.

[redhoodedwolf]

Happy Halloween!

AU - College/University | Sterek | 2.2K | AO3

“Dude,” Stiles exhaled heavily, hands reaching up to cup Derek’s furred cheeks. His breath smelled of cheep beer, but his eyes were mostly clear, so Derek knew he wasn’t completely inebriated. “This is new.”

Derek snorted and hoped the low lights of the house party hid his blush because Stiles was only further trailing his fingers up and down Derek’s face, tracing the ridges over his nose, fingertips brushing his lips where his fangs pushed them out. “It’s a special occasion,” Derek joked. “Low budget costume.”

Stiles stared at him with wide eyes. “Really? Wow, okay.” Stiles’ fingers found his ears and traced the pointed tips, and Derek felt his eyes flash icy blue and a growl build up in his chest. It was more of a purr, but Derek would never admit that.

“You constantly amaze me,” Stiles sighed again, pressing his body closer to Derek’s as a group of three inebriated people with overfull solo cups wedged their way by them. Derek instinctively (carefully) brought a clawed hand up to rest on Stiles’ back and keep him out of the splash zone. 

Derek dropped his gaze away from the passing crowd, back to Stiles, and found the younger man’s gaze was trained on his lips.

“Are they sharp?” Stiles asked.

Derek bared his teeth. “I could rip your throat out with them,” he responded with a light snarl which choked off in his throat when Stiles moved his wandering hands towards said fangs, pressing pointer fingers against them. 

He hummed. “Very solid,” Stiles added, after a beat, thumb brushing Derek’s lower lip. 

This... this was flirting, right? Stiles was flirting with him. Right?

Because Derek had been pretty obvious (he felt) about his feelings towards Stiles for the past few months, since Stiles declared himself “recovered” from his last disastrous breakup. And Stiles had seemed receptive, teasing Derek back, ogling him during pick-up basketball games, and inviting him over to his dorm despite the fact they they literally shared a suite. 

But he’d never made any kind of definite move. This felt pretty definite. And he was feeling more of Stiles than he ever had, except for that one fainting spell incident that Stiles refused to let Derek ever bring up to anyone. 

Stiles was pressed against his front now, and Derek hovered his hand still at his back. Even when Stiles was given the space, he stayed put. Stiles met his eyes, and Derek swallowed thickly, visibly, and the younger man’s gaze wavered to watch the motion.

“Tell me, Wolfman--”

“Stiles.”

Stiles chuckled. “Sourwolf, then. How, uh. How interested are you in staying at this costume party?”

Stiles had mostly divested of his costume within the first forty-five minutes of the party. He went with a last-minute sheet ghost with an old painting drop cloth Derek had shoved in the back of his closet from the beginning for the semester. Now, it was tied around his waist like a really weird looking skirt, his white tank top plastered to his skin with sweat. 

“Not much left of your costume anyway,” Derek chose to say, allowing his sweeping gaze to linger on Stiles’ exposed neck before meeting his eyes once more.

Stiles licked his lips. “I think I’d rather just chill tonight. Got the free booze. Would rather pop on Hocus Pocus and...” his words trailed off as Derek found the courage to reach for Stiles’ hand, still on his face, and intertwine their fingers. 

“Movie night sounds good to me,” Derek followed up with in the ensuing silence between them.

“C-cool, cool, um. I’m just gonna--” Stiles cut himself off, squeezing Derek’s hand with his while the other cupped the back of Derek’s neck. Derek’s breath hitched, and he felt his eyes flash again. “Before I lose the nerve.”

And then Stiles’ lips were on his, and Derek exhaled a groan, finally allowing that hovering hand to wind around Stiles’ waist and pull him close. Stiles made a surprised noise that turned dark and husky as he pulled back from the kiss, meeting Derek’s eyes. 

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, and Derek chuckled softly. 

“I wasn’t sure if--”

“Me neither,” Stiles interjected, his face flushing a delicious red. 

“Shall we?” Derek indicated to the door, and Stiles pushed himself off of Derek’s chest slowly as he nodded. 

They held hands as they walked from the off-campus house back to their dorm, the full moon lighting their way, and Derek retracted his claws, so that he could properly squeeze back, and Stiles responded by brushing his thumb over Derek’s knuckles.

Stiles fished out his keys when they arrived, ushered Derek into the building and then raced ahead so that he could open the door for Derek to his room.

“Ever the gentleman,” Derek commented with a smirk.

“But of course, only the best for my sourwolf.” Derek snorted. “Speaking of which,” Stiles started wiggling out of the drop cloth sheet around his waist and Derek resisted the initial urge to help, “we should probably de cos--...tume.” Stiles stared up at him with wide eyes and let the sheet pool to the floor. “When did you...?” Stiles wiggled his hand around in Derek’s face.

Derek narrowed his eyes in confusion before he realized what Stiles was asking. “Oh, after we left the house I shifted back. In a house of intoxicated people I can get away with it, but even on Halloween a werewolf has to be careful.”

“Right, yeah, uh-huh.” Stiles was nodding his head like he understood, but his jaw was still dropped, and his heartbeat had suddenly sped up. “Of course. Wouldn’t want people to think it’s real. Or anything.”

Derek shuddered. He recalled childhood threats of hunters in their territory, tense weeks when he was forced to stay home for everything except school, always on guard. “Yeah. There’s not any hunters around here that we’re aware of, but they can hide even easier than we do.” 

Derek shook his head. He didn’t want to get into that kind of talk right now. He’d finally kissed Stiles, and he was planning on turning this evening into a date, if he could manage it. 

“Anyway,” Derek said, and Stiles’ jaw snapped shut. “I do want to change into something more comfortable. Want to set up the movie while I do?” Derek jerked his thumb towards the bathroom that connected their rooms. 

“Sure!” Stiles squeaked. His heartbeat was still fast, but Derek hoped it had to do with them growing closer, not something like... like Stiles regretting his choice.

Derek closed himself into his room and shook away the thought. This was Stiles, he reminded himself as he shucked off his jeans and looked for his comfortable sweatpants. He knew Stiles, trusted Stiles, in a way that he had rarely been able to with other humans. 

After changing, Derek rapped his knuckles on Stiles’ bathroom door to announce his entrance. Stiles’ heartbeat spiked, but leveled once Derek slipped back in to the room. Stiles had changed into sweats as well, keeping the tank top on. The sheet was on the floor next to his laundry bin. He was settled in bed, facing the TV atop his dresser, the Disney+ app loading on the screen.

“Still feeling Hocus Pocus?” Stiles asked as Derek took a seat next to him on the bed, a hand’s width apart.

“Sounds great,” Derek agreed, and watched Stiles scroll down to the Halloween section.

He highlighted the movie, but Derek saw Stiles hesitate to press the play button. Derek tensed, a sense of dread running through him that Stiles was about to admit he’d made a mistake.

“So you’re a werewolf,” Stiles said instead.

Assuming Stiles was setting up for a question, Derek responded with a flash of his eyes, “Yes. And?”

For a man like Stiles, Derek had been surprised at the lack of questioning regarding his supernatural status, but had always expected it to come eventually. He settled in for an interrogation that was months in the making.

Instead, what he got was another slack-jawed Stiles with wide eyes. 

Derek felt the sudden drag of fear slip down his spine, like someone had shoved an ice cube down the back of his shirt. Derek scented the air, and Stiles smelt of fear.

Derek jumped off of the bed and crossed the room, getting as far form the human as possible, wishing he had never learned what Stiles scared (of him) smelled like. 

“Wait!” Stiles shouted as Derek hastened. “Don’t leave!”

“You want me to stay?” Derek shot back, hysteria filling his voice. “You’re scared of me!”

“Like a baby bit, but honestly I’m more amazed than anything. How did I not know this?!”

“I thought you did!” Derek shouted. “I never would have shifted in front of you if I had--” Derek cut himself off, shaking his head. He clenched his fists at his sides and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m not scared, Derek,” Stiles responded, voice closer, and Derek raised his gaze to see that Stile had stood from the bed and was inching towards him. “Surprised, totally. Flattered that you trusted me enough to tell me, even if, you know, you didn’t. Why did you think--?”

“It just seemed like you knew,” Derek stated. “You’re smart, almost too smart. I mean, I never stay in the dorms on full moons, and when we decided to share a suite this year you said--”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he seemingly recalled their conversation.

“Other than your full moon excursions,” Stiles had wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, the breath sizing in Derek’s chest at the sight, “I know everything else I need to know.

“A-and you’re okay with that?”

“Derek. I wouldn’t agree to this if I wasn’t, dude. You be you.”

Stiles flailed his arms and shouted, “I thought it was a booty call! Which made me extremely jealous of your moon-day lover, but I was willing to deal with it if, um...” Stiles scratched the back of his neck, gaze drifting, “... I could still be with you.”

“I go to the woods. Usually,” Derek blurted, and Stiles’ head snapped back up. “I wanted to spend Halloween with you, since we always do, even if it’s a full moon tonight because I can handle it, I don’t need to, ah, let loose. It just is nice to have that option. So other than things like this, with you, I just camp in the woods.”

Stiles’ lips quirked into a little smirk. “The woods? I feel like you’re a cliché, Derek.”

Derek ignored the blush he could feel on his face. “It’s perfectly usual. And I do it alone, by the way. Unless my family is visiting, or I’m home with them.”

“A lone wolf cliché, too,” Stiles teased, and Derek groaned. “I can work with that.”

Derek unclenched his fists. “You were jealous?” he asked, remembering that little bit of revelation. “But that was before the summer. You--”

Stiles rushed at him and slapped a hand over Derek’s mouth, hissing, “I know, okay, my crush on you has been long and pathetic.”

Derek pulled Stiles’ hand off of his face, stopping himself from licking his palm instead in revenge. “But your ex?”

“Got over him immediately. Well, after my week of mourning.” Stiles admitted. “I was enjoying having you dote on me, a little. You didn’t spend a ton of time with us before you were forcing me out of bed to rejoin the world. And then after that, you didn’t go easy on me.”

Derek licked his lips and inhaled, then stilled the words on his tongue. Stiles stared at him expectantly, gaze darting about the room every few seconds. Derek scented him, just a bit, and there was no fear left at all, just the usual scent of Stiles, a bit of embarrassment, and an undertone of arousal. 

Derek took another deep breath and then said, “Okay.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Derek dropped Stiles’ hand and put some space between them. “Stiles,” he declared. “I trust you, and I have for a while now, and you know that’s not easy for me to do. I also really like you, romantically, but that is not why I want to tell you this.”

“Derek--”

“I am a werewolf. My family are werewolves. I’m sure you have questions, and I will answer as many as I possibly can, but what I’d really like to do now is have a nice date night where we relax and watch some movies and maybe kiss for a while. And I promise to keep the fangs away.”

“You charmer,” Stiles cooed, reaching for Derek’s hands and pulling him back towards the bed and their previous spots, this time pressed against each other. Derek took hold of the abandoned remote and pressed play on the idle screen.

Derek was proud that Stiles lasted five minutes before opening his mouth. “So, you were smelling me earlier, right? You can smell emotions?”

Derek tipped his head back and groaned. “I regret it,” he declared.

Stiles pulled him into a kiss and forced him to take it back. He did. 

[athetos]

thinking about if i made my own “mario party superstars” game what i would want in it and....

Minigames are the most important part, obviously, so here are all the ones I’d want included!  Most of these are from the first few games, but I tried to include some from the later entries too.  I picked 100 of them...

Buried Treasure

Hot Bob-Omb

Crazy Cutter

Face Lift

Mushroom Mix-Up/Hexagon Heat

Grab Bag

Bumper Balls

Tipsy Tourney

Shy Guy Says

Hot Rope Jump

Slot Car Derby

Shell Shocked

Toad in the Box

Roll Call

Tile Driver

Deep Sea Salvage

Bob-Omb Barrage

Look Away

Filet Relay

Quicksand Cache

Balloon Burst

Speed Hockey

Cake Factory

Rakin’ Em In

Day at the Races

Bowser’s Big Blast

Ice Rink Risk

Picture Imperfect

Messy Memory

Curtain Call

Toadstool Titan

Chip Shot Challenge

Mario’s Puzzle Party

The Beat Goes On

Spotlight Swim

Hide and Sneak

Hand, Line, and Sinker

Ridiculous Relay

Thwomp Pull

Eatsa Pizza

Picking Panic

Etch n’ Catch

Slot Synch

Stacked Deck

Merry Go Chomp

Locked Out

All Fired Up

Vine With Me

Baby Bowser Bonkers

Silly Screws

Booksquirm

Paratrooper Plunge

Toad’s Quick Draw

Free Throw

Photo Finish

Bob-Omb Breakers

Stamp Out

Long Claw of the Law

Makin’ Waves

Blame it on the Crane

The Great Deflate

Revers-a-Bomb

Team Treasure Trek

Order Up

Cheep Cheep Sweep

Trace Race

Chain Chomp Fever

Coney Island

Ground Pound Down

Pushy Penguins

Pop-Star Piranhas

Hotel Goomba

Flower Shower

Fish Upon a Star

Flatiator

Bill Blasters

Piece Out

Note to Self

Trap Ease Artist

Money Belt

Snow Brawl

Clean Team

Hyper Sniper

Insectiride

Bob-OOOM!*

Shell Stack*

Melon Folley*

Sort Stack*

Koopa Krunch*

Bumper Crop

The Final Countdown

Warp Pipe Dreams

Rotisserie Rampage

Goomba Village

Pokey Punch-Out

Skateboard Scamper

Platform Peril

Bombs Away

Cast Aways

Mr. Blizzard’s Brigade

* = these were solo minigames from mario party advance, but i loved them and think they could be adapted for multiple players

As for the boards, I chose TEN of my favorites...

Birthday Cake

Jungle Adventure

Horror Land

Bowser Land

Waluigi’s Island

Toad’s Midway Madness

Goomba’s Greedy Gala

Toy Dream

Towering Treetop

Neon Heights

And of course, for characters, there’d have to be:

Mario

Luigi

Peach

Daisy

Rosalina

Wario

Waluigi

Yoshi

Birdo

Koopa Kid (NOT Bowser Jr)

Boo

Donkey Kong

Diddy Kong

Dry Bones

Toadette

Rex

and that’s all i got lol

[ceilingfan5]

Fake dating, medieval/fantasy, courtship?

The whole world is watching as Lord Taako approaches Prince Kravitz. The Prince is beautiful, striking, absolutely handsome in fine white and gold, all done up in buttons and jewelry and a glittering smile. Taako feels his heart buzzing in his chest, ready to fly away at a moment’s notice, but  he maintains his stately, measured walk, and he bows down just so, and he gives his own lustrous smile and asks the Prince to dance. 

“Of course,” the Prince says, smile a little sweeter, and he stands up from the throne and takes Taako’s sweaty hand and they sweep the dance floor. Servants and guests alike oohh and ahhh as they spin and draw closer and closer, waltzing along with the dainty live band. They’re so close, they can whisper without being heard, and that means that they can break character just a little and let the world think they’re lovers instead. 

If only they were truly lovers, Taako thinks, a little sour. But he’ll take what he can get. 

“My love,” Taako says, too-sweetly, teasing. “How have you been?”

“Dealing with politics, I’m afraid.” The rhythmic click of their heels on the marble is beautiful. Kravitz’s eyes are beautiful. Taako’s fluttering heart cheeps weakly. 

“Poor, pitiful thing, you.”

“Don’t I know it.” Kravitz laughs. Taako’s chest hurts. “Things are looking nice for our arrangement. I must thank you again for doing this for me. It means so much not to have to marry that princess from Phandalin.”

“Anything for you, my Prince,” Taako teases again. “I’m just glad I’m in high enough standing to turn your eye.”

“A wizard and a lord? You’re more than worth a second glance, Taako. I just hope I haven’t ruined your chances of courting others, as you’re tied up pretending to be mine.”

“I wasn’t terribly busy before.” They’re so close, Taako could kiss him. Oh, how lovely that would be. 

“I can’t believe that. You’re beautiful, Taako.”

“Of course I am. You’re not so bad yourself, Prince.” He laughs lightly even as his head threatens to spin off his shoulders. 

Kravitz gives him a long look, the gears turning vividly behind his soulful eyes, and Taako bites his lip. 

“My love wants a lively song!” he shouts to the band, and soon they’re quick-stepping in time with the beat, silk flowers and courtly suits turning in time all around them. Kravitz’s thought gets abandoned in keeping the rhythm--Taako knows now that he has two left feet, and that his dancing skill is, like many other things, a carefully maintained front--and he watches that dangerous thought fly right out the window.

Taako can’t let Prince Kravitz know he’s actually in love. That would ruin everything. He’d simply perish if it were unrequited.

[foggy-with-a-matt]

Concept art for an AU!

This AU is a combination of the linked text post and Scott Pilgrim in which Matt hires Foggy to be her ‘Evil Queen’ but before she can take the position she must defeat all of Matt’s Heroic Exes!

Foggy is in a bit over her head with this one.

[shown hight difference are not accurate. At some point I will draw them together but Foggy is just a little shorter then Matt]

[text post description:

Evil Overlady reading outdated Evil Overlord Instruction Manual from the Sexist Old Days: hmm, says here I need to acquire an Evil Queen to assist me in my Rule of Terror and General Administrative Duties. I must follow what the Manual say

Henchwoman who has been wearing increasingly risqué bustiers every passing day of her employment: umm. ma'am. I would like to apply for that position

Evil Overlady: Excellent! This is why I hired you, because you are a Real Go-Getter

End Description]

[Image Description:

Two digital drawings of gender-bent Matt and Foggy drawn in a cartoony style based on Scott Pilgrim. The first image is drowns at an angle of the camera facing upwards from the ground. It shows a feminine Matt. She is a thin Irish woman in a bright red dress that goes to her knees, a thick black belt full of throwing needles, a long black leather jacket with a white silk interior and metal spikes on the shoulders, and knee-high red boots with black laces. Her arms are outstretched on either side of her. In her right she holds her cane and in the left a hunting knife. Her hair is bright red and shaved short in the back but is kept chin length in the front with sweeping bangs. She wears a black headband adorned with silver horns that curve forward before curving up. She has her head held high and is smirking evilly.

The second image depicts Foggy who is a heavy-set white woman in a one piece red-suite reminiscent of the Daredevil costume with a red belt with a metal ‘DD’ buckle, dark red plastic gloves, and dark red knee-high work boots with one side having a strap containing billy clubs. Her hair is brown/red and tied back in a long thick braid. She also has short bangs that sweep to the sides and is wearing a black headband with stubby metal horns on them (like the cheep devil horns one would find as a Halloween store). She is clutching a metal bat up in her hands and is posed as if ready to fight. She looks terrified with her lips wobbling but determined to see whatever is going on through.

End Description]

[catharrington]

ABO prompt time! Could I get typical alpha Billy against bratty, bossy, dominant omega Steve? Where Steve’s the only male omega at school so he’s been king and getting his way for years. Maybe set during season 1? Steve has been courting Nancy and chasing after her, but then starts being chased by Billy and ends up liking that more? (Probably the shittiest prompt but I can see it in my head 😭)

Thanks for this promt I’m so dang sorry it’s late && long. I actually have more I cut off for a second part in the future lol. Enjoy!

I wanna go, Me and you in Malibu.

***

Tommy leaned against the wall right behind Steve, leering over his shoulder and making the perfect shit eating grin for the lackey he was. Billy was watching just a locker down as he interrupted Steve’s sentence.

“Good call,” Tommy interjected. Probing with his words into Steve’s side. But the other boy only laughed, nodded slight but continued to invite pretty petite Nancy Wheeler and her glasses wearing friend to his house party.

“So are you in?”

“In for what?” And that has Billy rolling his eyes. Nancy was a beta, a stiff when it comes to scent and courting. She didn’t know what she had strutting around right in front of her. Peacocking around with the bravado of an alpha, it was frustrating because that is exactly what Steve Harrington is not. Billy can smell him. Even with Nancy stifling him, Tommy’s alpha scent hanging from his shoulders, and expensive honey wheat shampoo- Billy can still smell the omega dripping from the glands in Steve’s neck.

He’s dripping wet like some vine ripe fruit Billy can’t quite name. And god, he smelt so good.

Billy tuned out of the conversation and let his eyes drift to Nancy’s friend sitting nicely at her side. Short hair, ugly coat, glasses, Billy recognized her.

He licked across the top of his teeth as he thought up a little plan.

Two class periods later, the last one of the day, and Billy was unbuttoning his shirt to be horribly lower around his navel as he cornered Barbra Holland on her way out of their algebra class.

“I’m so not interested,” she opened with before he even finished lounging himself across her desk.

“Alright,” he smirked still; wouldn’t be derailed that easy. “I ain’t asking for you then. I’m asking for a ticket to ride.”

She pushed her glasses farther up on her face, sizing him up. She was beta too, just like Nancy, but Billy wasn’t wearing blockers so maybe she could, if she tried hard enough, smell his alpha scent rolling heavy from his skin.

“I’m listening,” she puffed.

Once Billy mentioned in a hushed tone he was interested in breaking into the Harrington palace for stealing Prince Steve away, sweeping him off his feet, Barb was all for inviting him. She wasn’t a fan of Steve. Wasn’t a fan of sharing Nancy is more closer to the truth Billy guessed.

He pulled up into Steve’s huge driveway and let his engine rumble and speakers play Metallica for a half a minute before turning it off. Nancy and Barb were there already, he could hear them playing pop music out back and see the glow of an outdoor pool from around the wall. Billy wasn’t the type for knocking.

“Sorry I’m a little late, not the best with street names yet,” he groaned out with practiced ease as he swooped around the corner. All eyes snapped up to see Billy. Tommy and Carol were interrupted from their public display of affection, while Steve stopped mid passing over a bottle opener and a can of beer to Nancy.

Billy found Barb’s eyes, she was sitting with her arms and ankles crossed on a deck chair. She was uncomformably stiff in her thick jacket and frown, so Billy curled his lips into the friendliest smile and draped his arm over the back metal bar of her chair.

“Gonna introduce me?” He purred.

“Yeah,” Steve lowered the beer and the opener. Reawakening slowly from where he was frozen. “Please introduce him. I so didn’t know you were dating anyone?” He shifted his weight to one foot then the other. Billy didn’t care if anyone noticed the way he dragged his eyes all over that lithe body.

“Steve, Nancy,” Barb turned to look at everyone circled around her, “Tommy and Carol, this is-,”

“Billy Hargrove,” Billy finishes. He stepped away from Barb’s shoulder to get closer to Steve. “And it’s just a casual invite, really I’m new in town. Looking to lick some flavors. Acquire new tastes.” Then Billy is close enough for Steve to smell. And he knows what he smells like, oak and burning spices. Marbled with his cigarettes his scent was blisteringly heavy. Billy knows his alpha scent is overbearing in the best way.

He wraps his fingers round the beer still clutched in Steve’s hands. Gives it a tug, growls inside from the way his fingers rub across Steve’s as he pulls the beer free.

“Oh yeah, I know you.” Carol pipes up. She’s hanging off the one arm Tommy has around her waist. Maybe she’s already drunk, or maybe she’s an omega that baits alphas and gets off on it. “Just moved from California. I’ve seen your car, it’s super cool! Not as nice as your ass though.”

Tommy shakes her around, makes her curls jump, makes her laugh. Glares over her shoulder at Billy, but one alpha to the other he doesn’t do much.

Billy only shrugs, pops open the beer and takes a smell of the cheap liquid.

“You picked a great time to crash,” Steve pulled Billy’s attention back to him. His hands on his hips and a glimmer in his brown eyes. “I was just showing Nance here how to shotgun a beer. They do that over in sunny California?”

Billy only nodded. He was holding an open can already, kept his nose hovering over it and looked up to make that obvious.

“Oh perfect then.” Steve snatched the can from Billy’s hands, quick with nimble little fingers that the alpha didn’t even see coming. He pushed up next to Billy to do it, and leaned over him a just a tad, enough for his sweater to shift an inch down his collar bone. Letting his neck bare and scent heighten. Billy didn’t hide how he was watching.

“Because that was the lady’s beer. And this is going to be your beer,” with a smile, he handed Nancy the open can she timidly accepted; before Steve turned back to the bottle opener. He nudged it in Billy’s face. Smile sobering to a playful curl.

Taking the jagged metal, Billy turned the coolness around and around in his hand. It was warm in the middle from Steve’s fingers gripping it. Billy watches as Steve plucks off a beer from a six pack on his short pool side table and starts back towards him.

“Nah,” Billy raises his hand, doesn’t realize he’s he’s using the opener to point- but it gets his point across.

“Steve,” Billy rolls the name around his tongue, tastes good, “better be bringing one for yourself. I’m only gonna do this if you race me.”

Nancy has her beer cupped in her hands and settles down on her own chair, scooted closer to be right next to Barb’s. They share a quirky half smirk.

Steve is fidigiting in his tight pants. “I just finished one before you-,”

“Then it’s not a big deal, huh? If you’ve already done it?” Billy sneered, tipped his shoulder like he was shoving it against Steve’s own. God, he wishes he could shove his nose into the throat of the omega.

There’s a moment of a deep breath, wide chocolate brown eyes blinking, then Steve plucks another beer free. He throws it to Billy in a wide arch that almost ends up in the pool, but Billy catches it with one big palm. Steve comes to stand close in front of him, sizing Billy up as he mirrors the motion of rolling the cold can around in his hand.

“You’ll need this,” Billy offers the can opener back. Steve takes it hesitantly. “I’ve got my own tool,” to show off, Billy bends down to slip his hand into his ankle high biker boots, fishing for his pocket knife. The ringlet curls of his hair brushed Steve’s olive green sweater at his stomach just for a second.

Then Billy was standing back up, and flicking his knife open in a sharp click.

Steve’s chocolate eyes are melting. “You’re a cliché,” he drawls in a wicked grin. “You so relaize that?”

Neither boy notices the way Barb shoves her elbow into Nancy’s side with a raised eyebrow. They had their eyes locked on each other.

“You want a countdown, Malibu?” Steve sings.

Billy pressed his knife to the bottom of the can, getting ready, just as Steve was holding his. He shakes out his long hair. Swipes his tongue across his lower lip.

Steve tilts his head back like a haughty bitch, watching him down the bridge of his nose. The one inch height he has on Billy mostly evened by the boots, but he kept the air all the same.

“Go!” Tommy yells from over Billy’s shoulder.

Their cans puncture at the same time, a hiss of carbonation and a twist to open the bottom. Then in sync Billy and Steve lift to drink. From behind them Tommy and Carol are hooting in a gross chant. Billy’s focus is only on getting this cheep beer down his throat, breathing out his nose in a few short breaths, then he’s taking one last mouthful down before his can is empty. Billy crushes the tin in his fist, reveling in the way it sounds.

He flicks his eyes open to see Steve still tilted back working on his. Billy doesn’t think, he’s blurry in the thrill of winning, and he reaches out his free hand ever so slightly to cup the omegas hip. Steve’s sweater is hitched up letting a moonlight colored sliver of skin poke out. Billy gets his hands on his hips and swipes his thumb across the flushed skin, sends shivers down his whole body.

Just then Steve finishes, his can dropping with an empty clink to the ground. He braces himself from a stumble like he’s about to fall over. Eyes dip down to see where Billy’s hand ghosts over his naked skin, lingering there for a moment.

Billy pulls away just as Steve yanks down his sweater.

“Hell yeah, California! You beat Stevie boy here real good!” Carol steps up close to Billy, runs one well manicured hand up the arm of his denim jacket. Gives his bicep a squeeze like she’s testing the muscle.

Billy focuses her with a questioning glare, still a little hazy, but just as he does she goes in a blur away from his vision. Tommy scoops her up and takes a running leap into the pool.

There’s a brief moment of silence before they breach the water laughing like hyenas. Then Steve and Nancy are laughing, Barb trying to hold it back, and Billy turns to watch how cute Steve’s cheeks get when they are pushed back from a smile.

“Hey Nance, lets get in there? Don’t want them to have all the fun!” Steve moves to Nancy’s chair and is begging her with two hands curled around her own. Tugging her when he could swoop the slender girl up and just throw her if he wanted to.

“Steve,” she warns, but stands up. “This is a really bad-,” then she takes one step, and two, and she’s close enough to the pool that Steve does just that. Wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her to splash down right into heated waters. She sputters as she breached the surface, steam rolling off her wet hair in tendrils.

Then Steve is glancing to his side, taking a look at Billy. Asking if he’s impressed. And Billy is, he so is. Billy doesn’t even bother taking off his jacket or leather boots as he steps up closer to Steve. Gets his shoulder pressed right along the others rippling with an energy of trouble making. Clicking together like teeth in a kiss. Then they take a gasp of air scented with the other smell at the same time and jump into the water.

When Billy surfaces he sees Steve has gone to Nancy. Getting her thin waist back in his arms and playfully tossing her around in the water. Billy doesn’t have time to linger before he gets a harsh splash to the back of his head from Tommy. The alpha challenging him in the simplest low risk form of splash battle. Billy bares his fangs and uses his whole arm to send a wave that gets Carol too, makes her squeak.

The pop music is drowned out by their laughter. Even Barb who doesn’t move from her chair or unzips her jacket leans forward and laughs.

Really gets a good laugh out of Billy dunking Steve under the water to ruffle up his styled hair. Billy takes a long feel of those silky locks flowing around his fingers, moving his hand down to cup Steve’s neck. And shivering in the heated pool water as Steve vibrates a purr from the slight touch. Lifts his own hand to curl around Billy’s shirt front. A spark of heightened omega scent tastes of fruit rolled in sugar. He can feel ruby red juices trailing down his mustache hair. Wants a bite so badly.

Their affection goes on for a count of three seconds before Steve is pushing him away and resuming the splash fight.

Carol is the first to crawl out, whimpering about her clothes shrinking, with Tommy following behind. Billy lingers as he watches Steve help Nancy out of the pool. Them both rushing inside to stay warm in the cold Indiana night. Billy doesn’t care that he could come off as crazy. He hefts himself from the side of the pool and follows to the Harrington’s sliding glass doors. Listening into their low voices.

“It’s late, Steve- I’ve got to go home?” Nancy poses her intent like a question as she shrugs off the omega’s grabby hands. After a few too many beers, and their late night dip in his heated pool, Steve is itching for attention.

“Nance,” he whimpers, pouting glossy lips. “Why don’t you crash here?”

In an elegant gesture, Nancy stands on her top toes for a chaste kiss then drops back down and tightens a towel around her shoulders. It’s a long stripped patterned one and it would fit perfectly on a sandy beach with a certain pretty omega laid out on it. Now it was draped across Nancy’s thin shoulders.

“I’ll bring this by to return another night, okay?” She whispers. Now they are too low for Billy to over hear. He scuffs his boot into the sliding patio doors. There’s a scolding noise from Barb not far from him, but Billy doesn’t listen. His denim jacket and tight denim pants are soaking chlorine into his skin, and his hair must be a new level of curled to put it nicely.

Barb had sent him a lingering look earlier as they all crawled out of the pool. Maybe she was flirting, if you were Tommy and Carol and dumb as rocks. But Billy knew that look. And her lame little thumbs up as Nancy trailed off after Steve’s flourishing smell like a puppy.

He had taken the pack of smokes on Steve’s poolside table because his Marlboro reds got wet. Billy chewed on the end of one. Imagined chewing on Steve’s lips. And waited like a good boy.

“Bye,” a breathy voice blew past Billy just as a skinny shoulder nudged into his arm. Billy moved off to let Nancy out. He watches her and Barb walk around the huge yard, maybe he sees Barb throw her arm over Nancy’s shoulders. Maybe Billy’s got wishful thinking.

“Early night for the princess?” Billy teases as he smells Steve before he turns to see him. Bites down on the fruit taste in the air.

There’s a scoff, and Billy turns to see Steve rubbing a towel through his hair. He’s a fucking tease with his long dark hair damp and wild, draped over his forehead and droplets of water reflecting the night sky midnight back on his olive skin.

Billy snarls. Bites down on the filter of the cigarette. Makes Steve smile.

“She’s shy,” Steve supposes.

Tommy and Carol are padding through the living rooms soft carpet over to the couch where they tumble awkwardly down. Billy is the only one left standing outside.

“I’m not shy.” It’s said in a growl and not exactly Billy’s smoothest line, but it gets the job done.

Steve blushes bright red down to the tip of his long nose. “It is late. Maybe another night, Malibu?”

Then he turns his eyes to Billy’s, searching them with his own wide ones speckled with the sparkling stars in the sky. Billy watches his reflection in Steve’s eyes too. Wondered how anyone could have eyes that beautifully large and if he could drown in them like it looks like his reflection is doing.

“Rain check then, pretty boy,” he exhales as laugher. Nodding his head with it. Trying to make his disappointment low. Trying to make his scent roll gentle, when all he wanted was to claim.

Steve nods back. Starts sliding the glass doors shut. Billy doesn’t wait for it to hit him in the ass. He walks off around the palace grounds back to his Camaro. Tries not to think about the way his nose doesn’t stop smelling like fruit even after he showers off pool water.

[pokemonswshbutionlyplayedsword]

Piers sees Meloetta and hears it sing. What happens?

I try not to write too many minifics in one night if I can help it, just because it’s a good way to burn out and not want to write for a while, but I think this ask is just too good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was going wrong. The stage got wrecked, Marnie’s fighting with him, and Piers is having a serious case of writer’s block. It was getting to be too much. Piers had to walk out in the middle of a conversation with a gym trainer just to cool off. Now, he found himself watching the sun set on the cliffs behind Spikemuth. He hoped the quiet sound of crashing waves beneath him will give him inspiration.

Piers spotted a storm on the horizon. Dark, rolling clouds that were similar to the dark clouds in his mind. Anger, sadness, disappointment, frustration. They rolled and toiled and fought their way through ever fiber of his body. It was like he was made of tense coils, all trembling and threatening to snap. He supposed the forthcoming breakdown was well over due.

Just as frustration welled up and threatened to spill out in the form of tears, Piers’ sharp ears caught a haunting sound. Something faint and distant echoed over the cliffs around him. Piers’ eyes dart around the area, searching. All he can see is the red horizon and the gold grass billowing in the breeze. Though it sounds like a voice, Piers doesn’t spot anyone.

He lets himself listen to the sound, even straining to hear it. It manifests as a gentle melody that’s both familiar and completely new. Piers can’t help but let it flow through him and sweep away the negative feelings. It’s relaxing and energizing. It’s soft and intense. It’s comforting and exhilarating. It’s music. It’s real music. Piers wants to capture it and turn it into a song for himself, but he doubts he could do such a lovely sound justice. He’s infatuated and enamored with it.

No song lasts forever. It fades from Piers’ ears and he realizes he was holding his breath. A deep breath out, and Piers inhales the sweet, fresh air. Piers is left wishing he could have seen who the talented singer was. He wants to hunt her down and steal her voice.

His musings are interrupted by a rustle in a nearby bush. Something is holding the bush to the side, but whatever it is is completely invisible. The empty air manifests a small figure. Piers gasps. It’s a legendary pokemon, Meloetta. The melody pokemon. It’s a blessing for a musician to be visited by it. He gets down on his knees and kneels over it.

“Were you the one singing?” He asks, unable to force the smile away.

It nods, stepping out of the foliage to offer Piers a better view. It looks up at Piers face and cheeps at him happily. Piers chuckles quietly.

“Thank you.” He’s not sure what to say. He never thought he’d come face to face with a legendary pokemon like this. “I needed that.”

In Meloetta’s small hands, it holds a large bloom. It offers the flower to Piers. Neither notice that Pier’s roto-phone snaps a picture of them, Pier’s hand outstretched to receive the gift. He tucks it in his hair. It, along with Meloetta’s locks, wave lazily in the light breeze.

The pokemon glides into the air, Piers following by climbing to his feet. It smiles and hums, and Piers returns the warm smile. Fading into thin air, Meloetta leaves him with the threads of a song, like the waking residue of a sweet dream.

Piers finds himself with an idea for a song rolling through his head. He returns to Spikemuth to find that his gym trainers cleaned the stage for him while he was gone. When he gets home, Marnie looks up at him with a glare. Piers feels ready to let go of his stubborn nature to make amends.

Piers checks his phone later to find Raihan freaking out over a picture he doesn’t remember taking and sending to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know why, but I absolutely had to write for this one. Like, more than any other minific I’ve done. I still haven’t put any of them on AO3, but I think I did well about this one and I’m excited to post it there. Hopefully I get them all put up there soon.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Don’t Say It: A Boy and His Roomba

Takes place directly after the events of @shameless-whumper‘s Who’s the Better Box Boy, our collab piece We Signed Up For This, and the Owen/Kauri bit Drive You Home 

Enjoy some genuine fluff before things get... dark, next week or whenever I have time to finish the next plot installment...

CW: Referenced noncon, referenced violence. Internal justifications of abusive behavior from an abuse survivor. 

Kauri is an abuse victim still justifying the actions of his abuser in a big way, so if that kind of content is hard for you, please stay safe. I am placing the “Read More” cut early for this reason.

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @whump-it, @lump-of-whump 

It’s the same as it always is.

Kauri wakes up in the middle of the night, like he always does, slipping out from between the sheets, pausing to watch Owen shift around next to him, the muscles in his shoulders and arms moving in a way that Kauri is distracted by, because he is supposed to be distracted by them.

There’s no blood or new bruises. Owen has promised that he knows that Kauri isn’t the person he called him that night, and that he won’t hurt him or make him answer to ‘Vince’ again - but he had promised to never ever make Kauri wear a shock collar, too, and he broke that promise today.

Owen breaks his promises all of the time and always has, that’s just part of life. Owen tells lies and Kauri pretends to believe them.

Everything is perfectly normal.

Except that nothing is normal, and Kauri feels like everything has changed.

He looks down at Owen’s sleeping face, lit a little by nothing but moonlight and starlight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling window across the room, and smiles. When Kauri is being good - when all the things he was taught are in place and he doesn’t let himself think too hard, because he isn’t supposed to think - he loves Owen’s face.

Especially when he is sleeping.

The hint of cruelty is gone, replaced by softness. Kauri loves him, even though he doesn’t want to, because he is safe, and touches him, and wants him to feel good, too.

You don't know how lucky you are, there are so many pet owners who don't care if their Box Boy feels good, there are so many owners who hurt them on purpose and not just by accident, so many owners who don't apologize like I do.

You don't know how lucky you are that all I want from you is love. You don't even know how bad it could be.

I didn't buy you so you could think at me. I bought you to love me, and you do, right?

"I do," He whispers, and Owen doesn't move. "I do love you, just like you wanted me to. I have to.”

Kauri knows that the love is false, deep down - that it was forced on him and he does not want it - but for a second he swallows, hard, and there is a thought that does not feel entirely like his own that Owen is the best thing that could ever have happened to him. The line of his jaw, the way his sandy blond hair sort of falls over the closed eyes, the hint of a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth.

"I'm so lucky."

I hate what Mr. Owen does to me. They made me think I'm so fucking lucky.

Owen loves him, too - he wouldn’t have paid so much money for him if he didn’t, Owen always says Kauri is too expensive not to take care of, that you should cherish the things you have made especially for you, the parts of your life that won't leave, can’t leave. Owen's never said it, but he must love him. He’s safe, here, and he is safe nowhere else.

Owen loves him. Even if he never says it. Owen is safe, even when he's dangerous, even when it hurts.

He doesn't love me. He just wants to lock me up forever.

Before he can linger too long on that - before he can feel the pain behind his eyes or the panic start his heart to racing - Kauri turns away, slides on a loose dark blue long-sleeved shirt and the black pull-on pants he always wears, and pads down the hall, just like always.

But it’s not like always, is it?

Things changed, today. For the first time, tonight, it wasn't Owen in his thoughts and behind his eyes when he was given his positions. For the first time, there is someone else he thinks of, too.

The world is more than what he thought, and there might be something safe outside the door, too, even without Owen-

He’s s-s-safe, he’s the only safe thing, I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry I’ll s-s-say it this time, I’ll say it!

Good. Again.

He’s safe, I’m not safe unless I’m with him, I’m n-not safe!

Good.

Pl-please, take them off, please take them off-

We’re not done yet, 645898. Say it again.

No, I-... ow ow ow… please, okay, okay, I’ll d-do it again, I’ll say it again, just please stop!

For once, Kauri shakes it off, tells the things he’s not supposed to remember to slide back behind the fog and the headaches that come and go. He doesn’t care, tonight. He is making a choice, he doesn’t care and he is refusing to be scared, tonight.

Kauri is smiling as he crouches in front of the couch and wakes Keira up. She beeps in greeting, a muted sound that he knows is her trying to be quiet and not wake Owen, either. Kauri awake. Keira cleaning routine commence?

“No, just come walk with me, okay?” He lays a hand on her smooth metal-and-plastic exterior, and then walks with a bounce in his step that he can’t quite explain.

Except that he could explain it, if anyone asks, and he hopes no one ever ever does.

Kauri directive accepted. Balcony commence?

“Balcony commence, yeah. Come on, girl. I have something awesome to tell you.”

He used to say awesome a lot, but Owen doesn’t like it when he says it so he doesn’t get to any longer. He probably hasn’t said it since- 

He flinches against a sudden starbust of pain behind his eyes. That memory - of what they must have offered him, of what had made him make the choice to sign - is gone. It’s not his any longer. 

Keira bumps along at his heels, beeping in the little pattern that Kauri thinks means she’s happy. Owen always says Keira can’t have feelings, but Kauri thinks maybe you can learn to feel, too, if you can learn how to speak and how to think.

Kauri is trying to remember who he was, make himself back into what he used to be. Keira is trying to learn how to be something new.

Just like Colton is trying to make himself, too.

He swallows against a sudden burst of warmth that twists on something close to perfect wonderful panic inside him. He wants to be this kind of afraid forever. It’s a good fear, and he remembers he used to have it all the time, for different people. The other Keira thought it was hilarious.

But it feels like a feeling that’s brand new.

Don’t believe their lies. The sincerity in his voice, the arms around him, Kauri even lets himself remember - for just one single solitary second - how it felt to have the words spoken into the bare skin of his shoulder.

No one was ever that nice to him, no one ever seemed like they cared if he wanted the hug, too. No one ever spoke like that with skin on skin. He would have held onto him forever, if Owen hadn't opened the door.

Oh, but if they’d had more time, maybe he could have turned his head and-

He stops just inside the closed balcony door at Keira’s querying beep, turning to look down at her, aware of the stupid smile on his face and aware he shouldn’t have it, but he can’t seem to stop. Keira request Kauri explain? Kauri heartrate accelerate. Kauri blood distribution adjustment. Kauri physical condition approaches ar-  

“Is improved,” Kauri whispers, and grins, trying to shake the feeling off. “Kauri physical condition is approaching improved, Keira.” He sweeps Keira up with her little wheels spinning as he opens the balcony door, stepping silently out into the night. If she could she might laugh, he thinks, at his silliness, just like the other Keira.

He wishes she could laugh.

Kauri physical condition improved, Keira says with a note to her robotic voice that seems almost like doubt. But Kauri heartrate accelerate-

“It’s a positive acceleration, you silly robot,” Kauri says with something like a laugh. There’s an echoing laugh inside his head that isn’t his, but hers. The Keira he tries so hard to remember.

Keira request database access. A pause. Kauri symptoms: accelerated heartrate, blood distribution adjustment, improved and lightened mood. Kauri is inf-

“I am not,” Kauri groaned, and flicked at Keira with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Keira correct, She says, and Kauri thinks she sounds kind of smug and he knows that smug isn’t one of the emotions she came preprogrammed with when Owen bought her. Keira provides correct diagnosis. Kauri is infat-

“Don’t say it! Look, come watch the stars with me, Keira. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Keira beeps twice. Kauri directive accepted; however, Keira correct.

She almost sounds like she might laugh. The real Keira used to laugh in this way where everyone around them would start laughing, too, and she was the loud and he was the quiet, Mom’s baby birds, cheep cheep. Keira the one who was a giant ham at school recitals and Kauri - or whoever he used to be, before he was Kauri - the one standing in the back row hoping no one noticed him.

“Fine, whatever, but shut up. If Owen woke up hearing you say that, he’d… I’d definitely go back in the box.” Kauri carries Keira to his favorite chair, and when her wheels stop spinning he knows she doesn’t mind sitting in his lap with him for a while.

Kauri requires no reassurance now.

“No,” Kauri says softly. He settles in with his legs crossed and Keira resting perfectly balanced on his lap, his hands flat against the plastic and metal, feeling the soft vibration of her processors and machinery inside, listening to the shifting movements of the vibrant, flourishing plants on the balcony.

Kauri is good at keeping things alive. He knows to talk to the plants, and mostly he only has the plants and Keira to talk to, so it’s not like he has any shortage of things to say.

“No, I don’t need reassurance. My heart is beating fast because I’m happy, Keira. I’m just, just really happy I met him today. That’s all it is.”

Kauri reference unknown male individual? Cause of improved physical condition, cause of heart rate acceleration?

What, you met someone? Again? Jesus, do you ever stop having crushes? Are you even done having a crush on the last one yet?

“Yeah, I don’t-” Kauri glances over his shoulder, back into the condo. There isn’t any sound of Owen moving around, but... it might break this spell he felt like he was under if he said anything too loudly. He settled for a whisper. “I met him for real today. He was in training with me and I saw him, um, in trouble, but today... His name is Colton. He… he's really nice.”

The warm winds are blowing outside, the ones that make Owen watch the news for hints of wildfires, but tonight they don’t feel like he should be scared of them at all. They feel like the wind is blowing just for him, making the stars sparkle even brighter.

He waits for one heavy gust to set the leaves of a small potted tree nearby to a burst of rustling loud enough to drown him out, and he whispers into the sound, "He listened to me today. He hugged me."

Kauri's thoughts of male individual 'Colton' causing heartrate to-

“I know it is, shut up,” Kauri tries to glare down at her, the two little red lights on the top flashing once, twice, three times, but he can’t hold the expression and he bites down on his lower lip as the glare cracks back into a smile. He can feel the blush in himself, even if he can’t see it.

The boy’s voice had been calmer today - even later when they were alone - but Kauri had known it just the same. He told Owen the memory was fuzzy, that all he knew was that he’d seen a face - but that had been a lie. Just like saying that he’d had fun today, when the only good part had been his arms and that he listened, that he knew something was wrong, too.

Kauri lied to Owen all the time, and that this memory hadn’t faded was just one of the lies he could add to his list. He remembered turning to look, his handler shoving him to the side with an arm across his chest in some awful mockery of protection, as the other boy fought three of them off at once. 

Get your fucking hands off me!

The desperate fear and anger in the other boy’s voice as Kauri's back was slammed into the wall as they pushed him to get him out of the way.

The hair had been almost the same - the eyes were identical - he’d known immediately when he saw the Host’s video, was sure it was him the second he’d heard the number.

He had watched him fight with wide eyes and plaintive hope - 645898 had never seen anyone fight, ever - until they’d shoved Kauri into one of the training rooms and locked him in so Kauri’s handler could go help the others.

Then, later, he remembered the click of Ms. Renford’s heels as she came to speak with the trainers about what exactly went wrong today, and how we can ensure it does not happen again.

Kauri tilts his head back until it rests against the back of the patio chair, looking up at the scatter of stars, millions of them even though his mind won’t go above hundreds in awareness. He used to watch the stars with a different Keira - they loved starwatching together, lying on a blanket in the backyard and pointing out the constellations, the dim glow of the nearest city only a hint along the curve of the horizon in land that wasn’t wooded and hilly like this. Land that was flat, and the blue sky during the day felt like it had weight, and Kauri thinks I was born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the eyes of its women, gave me a song and slogan.

He sits straight up, jostling Keira a little, putting hands back on her in reassurance when she beeps questioningly. “Carl Sandburg wrote that poem in 1918, my mom had it framed on the wall in the living room. He wrote the fog comes in on little cat feet and she had that in the bathroom…”

The words come out all at once, with barely a space for breath between them. The headache follows on their heels but Kauri fights it, and he doesn’t notice his right hand move from Keira to the arm of the chair.

Taaaaaaap.

Tap.

Taaaaaaap.

Tap.

He tries to remember the other boy’s voice, the desperate intensity of do you remember? the way he’d felt at the hissed don’t believe their lies, the thrill separate from the fear at the jiggling of the doorknob.

Taaaaap.

Taaaaap.

Taaaaap.

He tries to hold onto it, to the brush of his hair against his face, the way his skin lit up and his skin never ever lit up that way with Owen, they couldn’t force that, they couldn’t make him feel that, not deep down like this.

It was something better than what he’d been made to be. That had been the way you felt when you were a person, and the other person was, too, and you were both people.

The person that he used to be wrote stupid poetry about Keira and his life and the (boys? girls? both? he can’t remember, Box Boys don’t think that way) he liked and read it with shaking legs before the class. He took their criticism with falsely good-humored self-deprecation and then brooded over it all day until Keira shook him out of it, told him they don’t know any better than you, dumbass, why do you care what they think? You said your TA thought you were pretty good, right?

Tap.

Taaaaaaap.

Tap.

Tap.

He finds a star he likes, the one that’s a little redder and bigger than the others, and he fixes his eyes on it. He stares at the star with one hand still on Keira, who beeps softly under his touch, and she doesn’t try to tell him what he’s feeling any longer, because he remembers, now.

He knows exactly what he’s feeling.

It’s a really, really good feeling and he hasn’t had it in a really long time.

I know I have time and I can change my mind but I could be convinced to have convictions for you

They liked that one, the class. The other students. Even Keira had liked it, and she always pretended to hate his poetry and then made copies for herself that she kept in a green folder hidden under her bed in her dorm.

Taaaaaaaap.

Kauri looks at the red star, and he gives it a name. It has another name and he used to know it, a long time ago, but that memory won’t come back to him. And he knows what he wants to name the star tonight, anyway, a name he’ll keep all to himself.

He smiles, and he gives the star a name and a wish - I wish for you to wish on stars, too - and pets lightly at the top of Keira’s casing. He settles back into the rustling of the leaves and the hot winds.

The sleepiness hits him again, fights his memories and the pulsing, sharp pain behind his eyes for control of his mind. He tries to hold onto them - Keira’s flashing smile, her tiny jazz hands at the Christmas concert when they were eight years old, the way she’d once beat the daylights out of a bully with her own bicycle when they were in fifth grade and they wouldn’t stop picking on Kauri for being quiet and shy - but they fade back behind the black sticks, the circles at his temples, screaming around the plastic that they slipped between his teeth.

They fell away, hidden behind the sight of his trainer’s horrible slow smile and the absence of touch. No one touched him, in the room, except with gloved hands designed to hurt.

He’d been so happy to wake up with Owen, thought he was so lucky he’d gone to an owner who didn’t wear gloves.

Who promised not to hurt him, except for when he did.

Taaaaaaap.

Taaaaaaap.

Taaaaaap.

He lets his faltering attempts to remember more go, finally, unwilling to fight the pain any longer. What he’s left with isn’t the poems his mother framed around the house, or the sight of the blue sky stretching overhead until the world seemed endless. He loses Keira’s face again, he is always losing her and finding her, and he loses any sense of who he used to be.

Except…

He remembers what he named the star.

And he remembers why.

Taaaaaaap.

Tap.

I’m going to tell a lot of lies about you.

Owen finds Kauri the next morning just before sunrise, curled up in the patio chair out on the balcony, knees to his chest and his hands just under his chin, fast asleep. From this angle and with his hands over his neck, you can’t see the collar at all, and he looks like anyone else. He looks free.

Keira is sitting in her favorite spot just under the leaves of a particularly large-leafed plant, beeping happily in a slow, soft rhythm that echoes the new name he’d given the red star.

Beeeeep. Beep. Beeeeep. Beep.

Beeeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep.

Beep. Beeeeeeeeep. Beep. Beep.

Beeeeeeep.

Beeeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep.

Beeeeep. Beep.

Her contented sounds stop when Owen’s shadow falls over Kauri’s sleeping face, and with a slight, pleased little smile, Owen Grant moves Kauri’s hands down until the white-gold links of his collar glint and glimmer in the early morning light.

Kauri’s eyes flutter open, slowly, and he jumps when he realizes Owen is so close, swallowing hard. “M-Mr. Owen? What’s-”

“What are you doing out here?” Owen’s voice is low, and loving, and he raises a hand to cup Kauri’s cheek in his palm, brushing fingers into mussed-up black curls.

I liked it better when he touched me like that. I don’t think I’m allowed to like it better but I did.

“I was looking at, at stars,” Kauri says softly, honestly enough. “Guess I fell asleep. S-sorry, I know you want me when y-you wake up-”

“That’s okay, you’re pretty cute out here asleep. Like a puppy. Were you thinking about yesterday? Get freaked out by the filming and everything?”

It seems safe. Kauri leaps on the lie. “Y-Yeah, a little. I had a nightmare about the, the shock collar...”

“Oh.” Owen laughs and stands back up straight, picking Keira up and dumping her carelessly on the living room carpet. “I don’t know why you keep carting this thing around. In any case, I am sorry about that, Kor-Bore. I know what I told you, before, that I wouldn’t. But you know, I am your owner, and owners get to change their minds, don’t they? You looked pretty fucking good in it, actually...”

Kauri swallows hard. “Did I?”

“Fuck yes. But you look good in everything that gets you all teary like that. Come on in, I’ll make breakfast.”

Kauri waits for him to get inside before he unfolds himself and stands, slowly, to follow Owen back into the condo. The home that he can never, ever leave unless Owen is right beside him.

When he looks up and over his shoulder, the big red star is gone.