#i love this silly little figure so much

[huntress-the-wolf]

Everyone please look at my silly jet figure that my amazing girlfriend got me

I'm not sure why his disk is so big

The diamond select figures have a lot more proportional disks

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[sysig]

Growing closer than expected (Patreon)

[nuctua-larc]

Ideating

[cherricloverr]

Eighteen Going on Extinct

Thank you so much (in order of appearance) to @helloitsthevoide @gurneykink @cozygarfield @dirt-ghoul @sleevesareforlosers Dorian Cupid @rightearring (me) @gei-may and @piierrote for contributing such amazing art and allowing me to complete this silly little project <3

[pixelatedraindrops]

Half and Half: Part 3

Prev / Next Title and Prologue

Part 3 of Half & Half is done! (actually its been done a while but I gave it some time) Anyway have some more of the silly little guys being sick roomies together~

Bedhead: The following morning Yuma and Makoto woke up and both their hair was a mess. They proceed to tease each other about it before they laugh and break into a little cough fit, showing that they weren’t any better the next day. But that doesn’t stop them from getting up and getting ready for the day regardless.

Cozy: Yuma puts on the blanket robe he chose to wear the day before noticing how comfortable it is. Makoto takes pride as the robe was an Amaterasu Corporation product. He couldn’t help but try to advertise it out of habit, but he goes a little too far with it. You probably shouldn’t advertise something while you have a cold.

I feel like after Makoto tried to talk to Yuma about Ama-Pal in the lab I think it would be funny if he developed a habit to advertise products of his company. He looked like he had a lot of fun with it and wanted to keep going before Yuma was like “can we go back to finding the Doctor now?” Dammit Yuma let him cook xD

Just a note: Makoto’s silliness and cuteness is going to be pretty amplified in this story. (it may as well be an au) literally cartoon levels of humor

Let them have some fun on their time off

Also their robes and pjs are inverted.

I love inverted colors between twins :3

Comic artist: @kazinsblog

[total-drama-brainrot]

This Alenoaheather AU is bringing me an unholy amount of serotonin and I love it- I’m still just now discovering it and I wish I knew about it sooner😭😭 But question if I may!

So, by the time Noah gets eliminated, where would you say his relationship lies with Alejandro and Heather? Like, does he leave the competition like, “You both tried to play each other, but I ended up playing the both of you, L” Like does he just think that Alejandro and Heather only romantically like each other, and he was just their attempt at emotionally manipulating one another, or does he at least have an idea that they potentially may feel romantically towards him? Honestly I’m just curious about how his elimination would play out between the three of them-

I'm glad other people are enjoying this AU as much as I am. Me and Perp are slowly spreading our Alenoaheather propaganda and it's working.

It's been established that Noah's elimination in this AU will take place at some point in the early post-merge game, probably either China or the Serengeti (though Niagara Falls might work too. We haven't exactly touched on how each challenge can/will play out since this whole concept has been put on the backburner), which gives his dynamic with Heather and Alejandro time to blossom from the initial double fake dating ploy into something more genuine.

Well before his elimination, Noah's been caught in his double-crossing ways; or to be more accurate triple-crossing, since Noah initially decided to play along with both Heather and Alejandro's schemes with the intention of throwing them both under the bus (or at least reaping all of the benefits for himself). But, by the time his ploy is figured out, the three of them have developed genuine feelings for each other.

As such, Heather and Alejandro are hesitant to have him eliminated; sure Noah somehow managing to pull the wool over their eyes for as long as he did was infuriating, but it was also impressive. Like recognises like, and the two biggest schemers in the game can appreciate when they've been outplayed, aggravating as it is, especially when the person who bested them essentially used their own trickery against them. Also, though the two of them would never admit it, both Heather and Alejandro know that they'd honestly miss Noah's caustic company.

Of course, at this point in the competition Heather and Alejandro are still deep in their "rivalry" phase, so it takes the two of them a very convoluted and overcomplicated conversation to figure out that they both share the same sentiment concerning a certain cynic- since every encounter they have with each other is practically a game of backhanded compliments and dancing around the true meaning of their words. It takes even longer for them to come to an agreement, given how stubborn the both of them can be, but eventually they manage to co-operate.

Which is what leads to The Confrontation, the point in the story where the two fake dating plots merge into Heather and Alejandro putting aside their differences to rule the game together, utilizing Noah as their shared right hand man since he's shown a knack for strategy and subterfuge. After all, why would they want to get rid of the one person on the jet who's able to go toe-to-toe with them in terms of scheming, when they can instead keep him around as an accomplice?

At least, that's the excuse they both use. But the two of them internally can't deny that, even if it was all pretend, Noah wasn't a bad "boyfriend" by any means, and they genuinely enjoy his company. In turn, Noah's accepted that neither Heather nor Alejandro are as insufferable as he initially assumed, and that playing along with their grand plots is actually really fun. (And maybe he also likes the two of them, but Noah would never admit that.)

But there's a a whole cast's worth of people on the jet who the trio also have to consider in their plans; it would be super suspicious of all three of them if the flirting and Aleheather's animosity suddenly ceased. No matter how oblivious the rest of the competitors are, a sudden public change in their dynamic would be the equivalent of waving a huge red flag and screaming "hey, we're in an alliance, vote us out!" Very counterintuitive to their goal of winning the competition.

So the three of them resolve to act as they have been during challenges, and sneak off to the confessional when it's most convenient/feasible to do so, where they can plot and scheme away from the rest of the cast.

This means that, at least to everyone else in the game, Noah's still in this weird grey area where he's actively flirting with both Heather and Alejandro. Or, well, "flirting", since I imagine most of the advances would be initiated by the other party and Noah would play the part of the blushing damsel- or more accurately the begrudging but highly amused recipient, since I just can't conceptualise snarky, stoic Noah being the type to get flustered easily.

I imagine The Confrontation would happen somewhere around London timeline wise (it just feels like the most appropriate place to have a major shift in the plot happen, for obvious reasons), which would give the initial fake dating aspect of the AU time to run it's course without getting stale, and allow the three of them to establish their dynamic as a trio before the merge hits. It'd give Alenoaheather around five or six episodes worth of time to grow closer as a trio (from Greece's Pieces to Niagara Brawls, at least) and have their feelings grow and develop at a natural pace, to the point where they acknowledge that, perhaps, not all of the romantic tension between them is fake.

And then, of course, the Fake Cheating Arc happens. Noah's elimination is the catalyst for this section of the plot, which Perp and myself touched on pretty heavily in one of our reblog chains, and at this point in the story Alenoaheather are in a sort of vague kind-of-dating situation; the three of them know there's feelings there, but they're all more invested in the competition (and their manipulation of such) than trying to figure out what exactly is going on between them. Plus, World Tour takes place in 2010- concepts like polyamory weren't exactly common knowledge back then, so the three of them wouldn't have any basis of comparison for what their dynamic is/would be.

That, and the three of them are all fairly emotionally closed off, so getting them to admit genuine feelings for each other and show vulnerableness to anyone would be like pulling teeth. As it stands, they're fairly content to continue acting as a Trickster Trio, contented to leave whatever's going on between them unlabelled for the time being in favour of focusing their time and energy on winning the million. There's an unspoken understanding between the three of them; what they have is special, inconceptual and indescribable by mere words... which is mostly just an excuse for the three of them not to breach the subject, since they have the collective emotional intelligence of a spork.

That doesn't mean they don't love each other. Because they do, even if some of them (Heather and Alejandro) aren't exactly familiar with concepts like "unconditional love" and "loyalty/compassion for someone besides yourself" and "lowering your emotional walls and being the most genuine version of yourself in front of the people who care about you". It's a steep learning curve, but they're doing their best.

But that's besides the point; at this point in the plot, the trio are essentially a throuple in all but name at the point of Noah's elimination.

That's why his suggestion of playing off of his "cheating" is initially met with hesitance on Aleheather's part- they don't want the one person on the jet (besides each other) they actually care about to risk his reputation, but they also know that it's a strategically sound idea. There's a conflict of interest between their desire to win the competition by any means necessary, and the budding sense of empathy they've both began to develop as a result of their situationship.

Of course, they eventually agree to his plan, and then the whole Cheating Arc plays out as it's been explored previously.

Which means Noah's actual elimination ceremony is a very tense affair.

He's intentionally playing himself up as kind of a scumbag during it, since he wants both Heather and Alejandro to appear as sympathetic as possible to the remaining competitors, so the three of them stage an altercation during that day's challenge where Noah's caught out in his "cheating", and consequently "admits" that he's been playing the two of them and it's all ingenuine on his part, to direct the majority vote against him. It'd kill two birds with one stone that way; Noah gets himself eliminated without having to do much out of the ordinary, since he's already kind of an asshole so all he really has to do is play up that aspect of himself a little and lie about manipulating his partners, meanwhile Heather and Alejandro can reap the benefits of whatever brownie points they gain from being his "victims" by using their own manipulative prowess to adopt the role of the ex-villains, redeemed by their shared heartbreak. Or something equally melodramatic.

Noah doesn't really care about the specifics of it, he'll be long gone before his partners can start playing up their "betrayal and heartbreak", and then soon enough one of them will win the competition. And spoil him rotten with their money.

So, during the actual ceremony, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to sit anywhere near him on the benches, and the remaining cast members form a protective wall between him and a distraught Heather, who sniffles back quiet tears every time her eyes wander too close to the cynic's slouching, impassive frame, and Alejandro who's sat eerily still and taut with disgraced fury, who's fiery green eyes haven't strayed from the burning glare he's shooting towards the bookworm.

Not that Noah's a stranger to receiving glares; the rest of the cast are also shooting him some downright murderous looks. Though he is impressed by his partners' acting abilities. He's also physically biting back pearls of laughter- the gritting of his teeth only serves to make him look unapologetically indignant, and thus more irredeemable in the eyes of their company- because every time Alejandro knows that no one's focus is on him, he sends his cerebral partner a cheeky wink and a smirk. The smug bastard.

Unsurprisingly, the vote is fairly unanimous. Chris doesn't even bother trying to raise suspense or tension by counting the votes, since the result is inevitable. That, and the atmosphere is already so tense and dramatic, the host is revelling in it. Chris even goes so far as complimenting Noah for outshining Duncan's cheating fiasco, showing the audience "what real relationship drama looks like", and maybe even congratulating Noah on almost being as heartless as he is.

He's escorted to the Drop of Shame, parachute backpack in tow, but before he can take the plunge he glances back at his audience. A raging sea of hostility greets him, but within the depths of animosity two shining beacons of light greet him. Alejandro and Heather shoot him a fleeting wave, the ghosts of smiles flickering across their features before they continue their flawless acts, but it's enough to reassure Noah that everything will be fine.

(Spoiler alert, things don't end up being fine for Noah.)

Of course this is all just an idea I'm spewing out. Nothing in this AU is set in concrete and it's always open to peer review or change. That's the beauty of public AUs; you can do whatever you want with them!

[wayfinderships]

Hey everyone! I have a quick question!

Great answer! <3 Now go forth and say one thing that your f/o loves about you in the tags!

[inusmasha]

Inuyasha was so deprived of connection and kind gestures were few and far in between. If any? He could probably count them using one hand. So those moments must stand out in his mind like a pop up card. And when you’re deprived of something vital it tends to be all you think about. So I wonder if he was constantly looking for kind smiles, or the slightest possibility of connection. And how it must of been exhausting being in that constant state of looking. And needing. The strong urge to /look/ for love because they know that it’s not something that would be just inherently be /given/ to him. Idk. That’s sad. This desperate hollow feeling is something I think is vital to understanding his character. Like you have to understand how deep those wounds go and how it somehow gave them the capacity to love that deeply as well.

The story as a whole revolves around how crazy our capacity to love is and how important those bonds are, for better or for worse. Das it.

[shannonsketches]

Disregard that last post, OP's definitely mad that Bulla is treated like a toddler and Trunks is treated like a teenager askljda

[tadaxii-i]

There he is

*intense screaming*

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

that last rb got me thinking about waking suguru up early in the morning with a cake that says happy mother’s day <3 and a mug that says best mommy ever!! just to tease him for being such a mother hen ….. but he just rolls his eyes + smacks you gently over the head + goes back to sleep <333

[arson-09]

I like feyre, even though sjm kinda killed her character i stand with my girl for the most part. emphasis on the most part because i will never recover from her manipulating tamlin to lash out in acomaf/acowar (sorry they all bleed together)🧍🏻

And people will say she was justified in what she did and that its tamlins fault that he lashed out. like it wasnt great on his part but it is a type of emotional manipulation from feyre to get him to do that. she had to push him to get that reaction, it wasnt a natural reaction and man. Sjm accidentally wrote 90% of my childhood experiences with shitty boys LIKE how did she do that ⁉️

[caramelmochacrow]

happy birthday karen!! she'll do starlight with everyone!

[cjauswrites]

dialogue-heavy clausten fic i wrote while scientists performed genetic experiments on me (PART TWO)

warning this one came out a lot longer and angstier than the first part

Read part one here!-

The couple would settle themselves amidst their banter, which left behind a far more comfortable silence than before. It was hard to believe that those two were adults in their mid 20s-- with Claus pushing 27-- with all of the playful back-and-forth bickering they'd do.

In that regard, they might as well have been schoolchildren.

And yet, there was Ninten, now handling a roll of gauze that he'd use to attentively patch up his lover's poor, damaged wing. Holding the draconic appendage as if it were the most priceless artifact in the world, one more precious than every speck of gold in King What's-his-pork's vault.

And there was Claus, allowing a commoner to so freely hold the most fragile and sensitive part of him. The commander's trust was one that belonged to no other.

"So," Ninten cleared his throat, yearning to break the silence between them with a question that had been nagging him ever since Claus showed up; "how'd it happen?"

"Huh?"

"Were you just flying here to see me, and a rebel shot at you? You had to be closeby, right? Otherwise you would've went to that guy... the- the donut guy. Your chimera doctor." The uncertain statement was punctuated with a lopsided shrug. "Because, like, if it's someone in the neighborhood, maybe it'll make the path here safer for you if I snitch on 'em."

Claus's lips didn't move to speak. The redhead's bony fingers would fidget with the pocket corners of his wrinkled cargo pants, black-painted nail scratching at the tightly-woven seams underneath the rough fabric.

"Wait. You... you didn't walk this far from home with a broken wing and a possible assassin on your tail just to visit me, right Claus?"

The commander ignored him once again, deliberately turning his head away.

"Claus."

"Fine," Claus threw his hands up in defeat, "I wasn't- I wasn't at home, but home would've... technically been a faster walk."

Of course he did. Ninten would dip his head with a deep sigh, cradling the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. "You know I love you, Claus, but you have to start getting medical treatment for things like this. I can't fix entire bulletwounds with my PSI."

"It seemed to work, kinda."

His boyfriend's casual, nonchalant attitude towards literally being shot was enough to make Ninten furrow his eyebrows. He let agitation seep into his voice, as much as he internally wished he wouldn't. "Your wing isn't a vital organ."

"Listen, I'm sorry," the soldier's voice was laced with a slight twinge of anxiety, "I don't like doctors, okay? I just.. If it happens again I'll find a home-remedy."

God. Ninten twitched at the mere thought of his boyfriend treating his next potentially-lethal bulletwound at home. His boyfriend, the man with no healing PSI. The one who-- though Ninten loved him-- could hardly even stitch up the holes in his own clothes. That boyfriend.

"And pray tell, what is a 'home-remedy' for a bulletwound to you, Claus? Gonna slap a few band-aids on it? Gonna crawl to your living quarters and drown it out, as usual?!" Ninten loudly drew in a deep, shaky breath to steady himself, giving a futile, short-lived effort to rein in his emotions. He brought his hands up to the sides of his head and rubbed away at his temples. "Y-You always do this thing-- where you put yourself in mortal danger and expect me to act like it's just another wacky tuesday. Oopsie-daisy, my genocidal boss almost caught me stealing oreos! Fucking oreos! But look sweetie, they're your favorite!-" Ninten interrupted his own tangent with an exasperated groan.

"You're lucky it's just your wing. I don't even know what I'd do if they hit your back, God forbid! Please, I'm begging you, just fucking go next time, I don't want to lose you!"

From the corner of his eye, Ninten watched his boyfriend's head sink into his quivering hands, with palms clasped over his eyes. The sight was enough to make his heart fall into the pit of his stomach like a rock in water. "Claus, I... I-I'm sorry. Fuck. It's okay."

"I just didn't want to go there again," Claus's voice muffled into his palms to somewhat veil the quaking in his words, or the way his voice would trail off like a dying flame. Unsure of what to do, Ninten would carefully extend his free hand to his boyfriend's tensed shoulder. The man flinched at the initial contact, but allowed his gentle touch to linger.

"He would've put me to sleep, Nint. For the stitches. I don't trust him not to... not to..."

Ninten swallowed despite the suffocating dryness of mouth, unsteady hand slowly looping another wad of gauze around Claus's injury. His body was plagued with an unending chill that froze him to his very core. "Not to...?" He replied in a gentle voice.

Oh, how the man wanted to tell everything. How he longed to spill the burdens of his life, along with countless tears, into Ninten's comforting shoulders, breathing his familiar scent in the sharp inhales between shaky sobs. But Claus dreaded that he'd said too much already. As secretive as he was-- as he needed to be-- he always had to halt himself from letting the words pour from him like floodwater from a broken dam.

The mere thought of Ninten being stripped of his treasured individuality, of his memories, his humanity, and ending up stranded in a near-meaningless life like his... he'd rather be despised by the man, if that was what it took, than allow that to happen.

"Not to.. Not to slip up. I'm deathly afraid of surgery." He'd expertly mask his emotions in his words, telling himself that it was all for Ninten's own good, telling himself whatever it took to kwep himself from looking back. His pale hands fell to the blankets he was sitting on and he allowed his fingers to curl tightly around the soft fabric, as if they subconsciously longed to grasp at his boyfriend's shirt.

Ninten simply gave a low hum at first.

"Claus... I'm so sorry. F-For yelling at you. I'm truly sorry." Ninten began in a gentle tone. Claus held his breath. "But still, I promise you'll be alright. He's a doctor for a good reason. From what I hear, a prestigious one at that. People praise the ground he walks on like he's the next Albert Einstein."

"Ah... wait, who?"

Ninten squeaked. A brief wave of panic flashed over his features as he was forced to recall where he was. "Aha, some guy, don't worry about it!" His hand waved dismissively. "My- my point is, he's brilliant. You're in good hands."

Good hands. It took every atom in Claus's body not to loudly refute that statement.

"You and your obscure references," Claus's sentence, against his will, trailed into a long yawn, and he'd lock his fingers together and stretch his arms above his head until he felt a satisfying pop in his shoulders. "Geek."

"Yeah, yeah." Ninten shot the other an amused smile. "Tired, sunshine?"

"Oh? Y-Yeah. I am. It's been one hell of a day." As he brought his arms down, the soldier lazily rubbed his weary eyes. As his panic had faded and awareness slowly took its place, the fact would set in that Ninten had completed wrapped his wound. "Hey, my wing feels a ton better. How's it look?"

"After a few PK lifeups and some basic first aid, not too bad! I'd say it'll be back to normal by tomorrow, but you should still take a bus to work." He reached up from where he'd been working and gave Claus a firm-yet-gentle pat on his upper back. "Speaking of work, it's late. We oughta get to bed."

"Late," Claus mumbled the word back to himself in thought. "God, I-- I hogged up your night, didn't I?"

"You didn't, hun. I've got nothing else going on tonight, with the power being out." Ninten would hold out an index finger and, using his telekinesis, toss Claus a thin, comfortable t-shirt he had folded atop his cluttered desk. It was a slightly-worn black tee with a penguin character on its frontside, a very Ninten choice in clothing, Claus noted.

"Your alien research?" In the middle of taking off his shirt, Claus remarked with a nodding gesture towards some erratic, barely-legible sticky notes Ninten had plastered all over his bedside wall.

"Bah, that junk can wait," Ninten replied, running a hand up through his tangled black hair, which he feared had started to look kind of gross. He felt drenched in sweat, but at the very least he could blame the lack of air circulation.

The redhead pulled Ninten's much-loved penguin shirt over his slim frame, loosely covering his battle-scarred upper body. Ninten's clothes were a little bigger than his, but Claus didn't mind the oversized fit they had on his figure. He'd discover a loose thread towards the end of the left sleeve and begin to fidget by rolling it around between his thumb and index finger.

"Well, I still feel bad. If the power's on in the morning I'll fix us some breakfast before we both head out." Ninten watched attentively as Claus reached two hands up behind his head, then freed his long, pumpkin-colored hair from the confines of the shirt's collar, shaking it out and letting the sea of loose ginger curls fall against his back. It wasn't often that Ninten got to see Claus with his hair down. Was it always that much curlier towards the bottom? Fuck. Ninten was weak.

"Awh!! You don't have to, really! You spoil me, Clausy." Ninten let out a giggle, the kind of high-pitched laugh he only let loose when he couldn't contain his glee. "But-- ah-- speaking of which, I do hope all the stuff in the fridge didn't spoil.."

"Have you opened it?" Claus turned to face his fellow law-breaker and rested his chin on his knuckles, yellowed eyes fixing on Ninten as he blinked to gain his focus in the dimly-lit room

"Absolutely not, but still. It's been off for a while."

"I'll figure it out, love." He cupped his human hand over Ninten's soft cheek, delicately brushing the pad of his thumb against the spot beneath his eye.

"Hah, thank you. You're the best." Ninten gave Claus a peck on his soft lips before the stubborn one could throw the compliment back. The rosy blush on his freckled face combined with the way his eyes seemed to enlarge themselves was priceless to Ninten.

Sharing Ninten's pathetic little bed had become routine for them despite the fact that it clearly lacked the space for two. Not that they minded one bit. After all, it only gave them a beyond cheesy excuse to cuddle up close and act sickeningly sweet to each other, their favorite passtime.

The bedframe gave a barely-audible creak of protest as Ninten would shift his weight to the left, leaning over and to put the dying candleflame out of its misery with one puff of air from his lips; the two were plunged into darkness as the ember wisped away into a thin ribbon of smoke.

"Mmgh, dark-" Claus complained. He aimlessly swiped a hand around in the inky blackness around him until it found Ninten's face, his scraggly little chin stubble making contact with the soldier's palm. Ninten hated how it refused to grow correctly, but Claus adored the way it looked, always holding his chin to carress the little hairs and always remarking how it tickled him between kisses.

"Right here, darling," Ninten locked his fingers, their texture a little rough from work, with the clumsy hand that had been sprawled over the frontside of his face.

Ninten scooted into the little free space next to Claus and snuggled up as close to the taller man as he possibly could, taking the opportunity to rest his head on his partner's chest once he found it. He could hear the soft hums and whirrs of machinery from within; a soothing source of white noise in an otherwise dead silence. As Ninten's warm presence filled the empty space beside him, the commander's arm snaked its way around his shoulder.

After Ninten closed his eyes for slumber, he felt Claus shift to rest his chin atop his fluffy mess of hair. He only wished that he could've showered before this. It wasn't too bad, since they both stunk of sweat, but it always embarrassed him whenever Claus would witness him not at peak performance.

"Night, Clausy."

"G'night, Nint. Love you."

"Love you too."

"... Hey, Nint?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you really upset about the oreos? Or was that just an in-the-moment thing?"

"I love oreos, you know I do. But I love you so much more. I just wanna see you safe, is all."

His gaze lifted from Claus's face to the mess of Post-Its on his wall, and he'd give himself a mental reminder to purchase more.

"Noted... I'm sorry. I'll try to be more cafeful from here on out, okay? And I'll... I'll start going to the doctor, too."

"That makes me really happy. Thank you."

The exchange was ended with a kiss planted on the top of Ninten's gross, smelly head. His face grew hot. How dare he.

There the two lovers settled into bed, in a loose-yet loving embrace, with each one's frame nestled comfortably into the other's; they'd learned all of the best ways to sleep on this mattress without needing to shove each other off or battle for space in their sleep. Claus was already drifting off to a much-needed peaceful slumber, one that Ninten wouldn't dare take from him despite the horde of questions clawing at his mind. He pondered that little lie he'd played along with. Regarding the government's top scientist.

'Scared he'll slip up', yeah, right... Andonuts, huh? I'll do some digging on the name. I swore I've heard it floating around before. Way back in the 80s, even. Does one of his ancestors work for the government?- Unless...

Ninten's thoughts drew on.

His gaze drifted up from Claus's face to the scattered stacks of Post-Its tacked to his bedroom wall, giving himself a mental reminder to purchase more.

rereading an hour later: i noticed a fUCKING MISTAKE WHERE tHE LAST LINE FROM THE FANFIC WAS RANDOMLY MOVED TO AN EARLIER SPOT. WHAT THE FUCK. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN. IM LIVID. anyways i fixed it

[bunnyboy-juice]

my best friend just told me she's gonna show me her regular ass grocery order when she gets home and i seriously cheered as if she said she was coming over Right Now