#trying something i normally wouldn't with it

[shinningdance]

Made with love

this is a part two of this :)) but it can be without part one!!

roommate au, my beloved ♡♡♡

warnings: none, pure fluff

The door slams behind you, locking with a small 'click'. The jacket you were wearing only a minute before is now laying on the floor, along with your shoes.

It was just so unfair. The Competition on who gets 2 days paid time off was supposed to be an easy win. You made the best Steak with mashed potatoes on the side, followed by the most delicious apple pie. Your co-workers were also not best cooks, making your win even easier. Yet you still lost, only because your boss was rating the foods and he had to choose his son, who cannot cook to safe his life. Who even pairs instant noodles with Asparagus?! But apparently his food was so delicious he won the competition with ease. And that jerk had the nerve to say to you he was 'just better than average". As if you're average, you're well above that, according to your four roommates who devoured your food.

Speaking of your roommates, one of them stares at you while you storm to your room, ignoring his confused questions. Normally you wouldn't ignore him, any of them really, but you would never ever ignore Kyle, he's always the first one to help you out with anything you might need. Need someone to proofread an e-mail? You go to Kyle. Need someone to talk to? Kyle it is. Need someone? Kyle.

You enter your room and, just like with the front door, slam your door shut. Turning the key to the right, you look it. Not that any of the guys would enter without knocking and waiting for you to say it's alright to enter. You sink down to the floor, clutching your bag to your chest. It's a bit silly to cry over something so silly, it's not like it was a promotion, it was just a silly work Competition. Unfair but still small.

Maybe what set you off were all those small things that happened. Spilling your coffee over yourself right before a big meeting, getting ignored through the entire said meeting, working through lunch - meaning going hungry, and last but not least, that stupid cooking thing.

With a heavy sigh you lift yourself up from the ground and head right towards your bed. You don't bother changing your clothes, just slipping right under the covers and closing your eyes. Maybe sleep will cheer you up for a bit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While you were sleeping Kyle went through every conversation he had with you in the last 24 hours, trying to figure out what he did for you to ignore him.

He couldn't figure it out. He always said good morning and good night, he left you your favorite food in the fridge after you got home from work and he saved you from a spider. He looked just like a kicked puppy sitting on the couch, a random show playing in the background.

He had to be sitting there for quit some time because the other three man had been starring at him since they got back home. 5 minutes of starring at Kyle until he finally acknowledged them.

"Did any of you piss off our bird?" he questions the three man locking at him, all of them re-stocking the kitchen after their grocery trip.

"Not that i can remember, last time i saw her, she was smiling like she had no care in the world." John answers quickly, making sure no one can blame him.

"Not me either" Simon replies, giving no explanation.

Three pair of eyes land on a specific Scot, who's currently showing the last remains of your pie down his throat.

He looks up, eyes turning wide as e speaks with a full mouth. "what? i dinnae do anythin'!" He claims as he swallows the pie.

"Are you sure? Like..100%?" Kyle asks while looking towards your bedroom door.

"ay! 100% swear on ma mama" Johnny nods, hoping they'll belive it.

"Then what did piss her off?" John asks, rubbing his forehead in confusion.

"no idea...wasn't today her cooking thing at work?" Kyle questions, looking at the three men again.

"it was." Simon confirms, nodding along. "But there's no way she didn't win." He grunts, placing the milk in the fridge.

"If she did win, she wouldn't react like this." John mumbles, trying to figure out what happend.

The four of them continue to try and solve this puzzle, to no success.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke duo a loud crash, most likely metal falling to the floor. You groan and grab your pillow, putting it over your head. How long did you sleep? It could be 5 minutes or 5 hours, who knows.

A soft knock on your door destroys your plan of getting more sleep. You groan once more, making sure whoever is outside knows your pissed.

"What?" You question, voice muffled by the pillow.

"It's just me, dove." John calls back, voice soft like always.

"What?" You repeat, not wanting to have a conversation right now.

"...Please come out, we prepared something for you." John sighs, most likely pressing his forehead against the door like he always dose when trying to get someone to open up.

They prepared something?

you sigh and very slowly crawl out of bed to unlock your door.

John almost laughs as he sees your state, still in work clothes but very messy, even your hair is a mess.

"Don't even start." You warn him.

John raises his hands in mock surrender, smile on his lips. "Why don't you get changed, something comfy."

Another sigh leaves your lips as you close the door, right in his face.

You change into your pj's, the most comfy thing you own. You open the door again and John is still standing there. With a hand on your back he leads you to a battlefield, or that's just what it looks like. In reality it's just the kitchen in a very messy state. The smell of food fills the air and Kyle appears, a almost shy smile on his face.

"Listen, we really tried to make you food, we really did, but..we kind of failed." He laughs and takes your hand, guiding you towards the couch.

Lots of blankets and pillows, popcorn in a huge bowl and Johnny and Simon already in their seats.

"So we got Pizza, your favorite." He smiles and brings you to johnny, making you sit between him and Simon.

Johnny is immediately clinging to your side, chin on your shoulder as he smiles up at you. "You dinnae have to say why you're upset, you just have to relax an' enjoy the food we got you."

You simply nod, touched by their actions. Almost on cue your stomach starts growling, reminding you that you skipped lunch.

"Got thing we got this then." John smiles and places the carton of Pizza on your lap.

"thanks.." You mumble and pick up one piece, enjoying every second.

After a short bit of silence conversations started flowing like usually. Everyone was eating pizza while watching a movie of your choice, throwing in a comment every now and then.

"I lost the cooking thing at work." You mumble, quietly but loud and enough for them to hear.

It was funny watching Johnnys face, the pure shock on his face.

"You? Wha-?" His mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"How is that even possible?" Kyle questions, showing a bit of popcorn into his mouth.

"The winner was the bosses son." You shrug, watching all of them connect the dots.

"Well you definitely won our votes." Simon confirms, watching the way your eyes light up.

"So you would't mind having to be lab rats for my next time cooking?" You smile and this time watch as all their eyes light up.

"Not at all, it would be an honor." John confirms.

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a/n: not proof read!! Like always i gave up towards the end :))

[lavenderprose]

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[antianakin]

As much as I dislike TBB, I don't actually mind discussing my issues with it much, but this forced me to go back and rewatch the scene since I only watched it once and that was obviously years ago, so you can apologize for that instead haha.

What I discovered is that I had in fact misremembered the scene and you're actually correct about it. I'd PRIMARILY remembered that Wrecker seems to hone in on Omega above everyone else and while that's definitely true, he does explicitly state why he's targeting her and he does attack the others for having violated Order 66 prior to going after Omega.

Wrecker claims that he's going after Omega because her decision to try to protect Hunter, who is considered a traitor, has now also made HER a traitor. Theoretically Wrecker would've left Omega entirely alone if she hadn't tried to shoot him to protect Hunter based on this comment, but it's obviously left somewhat unclear. He also could've chosen to attack her anyway simply because she associates with them and is now doomed as a result.

There's actually very little issue with Wrecker attacking the clones because they let a Jedi go, this falls in line with what was established in TCW for Rex after he joins up with Ahsoka and the other clones seem just as inclined to shoot him as they are to shoot Ahsoka. It makes sense that the chip programming might include a clause about getting rid of anyone trying to help or protect a Jedi in addition to the Jedi themselves, kind-of like a "get the Jedi at all costs" and "eliminate anyone and anything in your way" thing.

So this doesn't actually change or muddy anything to my knowledge, and Crosshair does something similar earlier in the season anyway, so Wrecker wouldn't even be the first character to react that way in this show alone for this exact reason.

So there's actually much less issue with this than I remembered there being. I DO think it's a little odd that he hones in on Omega the way he does. He completely abandons Hunter, who is literally IN HIS HANDS at the moment, in order to chase after Omega. Omega obviously does currently have a weapon whereas Hunter has been mostly disarmed, but he spends a weirdly disproportionate amount of time trying to hunt her down after she's already run away, ignoring the greater threat of people like Hunter, Rex, and Tech (Echo's been stunned).

You COULD make an argument that the chip does this, that it takes away some of the clones' ability to think something through, forcing them to sort-of focus in on a perceived threat to the exclusion of all else, I suppose. Where this ends up also being weird is in CONTRAST with the others. As mentioned, we see characters like Cody later who obviously very much canonically had a chip activated and he seems pretty normal. We see Howzer who theoretically SHOULD'VE had the chip activated and he's entirely normal. Wrecker gets a complete personality change when his chip activates, though. He ends up feeling more like Tup in terms of how it's impacting him. Wrecker's chip has begun to impact him as a result of a head injury earlier, but it had theoretically ALREADY BEEN ACTIVATED, so the head injury doesn't actually activate it on its own, it just... somehow makes the activated chip start to WORK on Wrecker despite his mutations that used to protect him. So his chip presumably hasn't been deformed the way Tup's was, and as soon as the chip is removed, Wrecker is completely fine, so it's not actually impacting Wrecker's brain long-term.

So it just begs the question of WHY Wrecker reacts so aggressively once the chip finally hits a critical point in its impact on him. Why would Howzer have such an easy time pushing back against his loyalty to the Empire (something that theoretically was given to him via the chip's influence) and doesn't seem to have much of a personality change at all, even after the Syndullas start fighting against the Empire, but Wrecker basically has his personality entirely erased and immediately turns super aggressive towards people he sees as traitors.

And there's almost zero hesitation from him. Even Jesse hesitates at one point, when Rex tries to logic him out of trying to kill Ahsoka, we SEE him consider the new information, and none of the clones immediately start firing as Rex walks out with Ahsoka into the hangar. Wrecker doesn't act like that.

So.... it's not... TERRIBLE on its own, but it's a little confusing mostly just in comparison to the other examples we have of clones who had their chip activated, either through a virus like Tup or just through the regular activation like Jesse and Howzer.

There was an entire major plot element in the Order 66 arc of TCW season 7 about how the chip didn't care that Ahsoka wasn't technically a Jedi anymore and was forcing the clones to want to kill her anyway.

Like.

It's a pretty important part of that whole story that Ahsoka not being in the Jedi Order anymore DOESN'T exempt her from Order 66. It would've been a pretty boring story if that technicality had WORKED.

But somehow the clones guarding Barriss at the prison are totally fine applying that technicality to her.

I guess they just like her better than Rex and the 332nd liked Ahsoka in the end or something. Ironic.

[bussyyeukie]

an unhealthy obsession

stalker!konig x reader: sure this happens, but you never thought it'd be you, I mean, you didn't do anything...you didn't even talk to that many strangers, sure you were nice just not overly, and yeah you were attractive but not to the degree of being obsessed over, you didn't even have that much money for someone to obsess over! God why'd you always get the short end of the stick...

You were being haunted. You were sure of it. Maybe not by a ghost or demon (although you'd debated that), but by something.

As silly as it sounded, but your brain was more ok with that than the thought of someone stalking you. At this point you were more sick of it than scared, your clothes went missing just to turn up a week later smelling weird, your soaps and lotions would run out quicker than ever-and they were expensive. Your dirty glasses would wind up on the counter when you'd get back from work, new lips marks on them on-top of your old ones, especially if you'd worn lipstick. It would stop for a few months, or weeks at a time and just when you thought it was finally done for, it would start up again. One time after 5 months of nothing happening, you'd woken up and went to the bathroom, only to find it covered in piss. Like, covered, you had nearly moved at that point. Your window (which you'd close and lock at night) would be cracked when you woke up. The trees outside your window would insistently tap at the glass, and you'd come home sometimes to weird 'gifts' on your counters or in your fridge. One time you came home to a bottle of wine and a back of condoms on your living room table. You stayed at a friends house that night. Didn't even put your work bag down before you decided "nope, not staying here tonight. Not dealing with that."

You tried the police, but you didn't have any real evidence, and you hadn't seen the man (or ghost), had no idea who it could be, and you hadn't been physically attacked...yet. So they didn't do shit, only said to call them if it progressed. Which it did, and they still didn't help.

You'd even taken all the stickers off your car to try to make it less, recognizable. Not that it really helped, but, you didn't know that. Even if you got a whole new car it wouldn't help any.

The first time you met him was in the dead of winter when you'd stopped off at that grocery store for some cleaning supplies. There were odd stains in your clothes that would not come out, no matter how much you'd wash them.

The basket tucked in the crook of your arm pinched at your skin, even under the thick sweater and jacket you wore, weighed down with a bottle of bleach and some fabric cleaner-the spot treatment kind, and a bag of coffee grounds.

You adjusted it as you reached up on the shelf for a bottle of "stubborn stain remover". Seemed overkill but the stains were so common recently that you were willing to try anything. Even mixing chemicals. Normally you'd just throw the item out, but this was your all time favorite shirt, and you wanted to give it a fighting change.

Your basket was posing a challenge though, every time you'd reach up for the tall shelf the items would shift and knock around, pinching your further or just making it tough to hold the basket. You'd opted for setting it down next to your feet with a huff. Before looking back at your item, which you still found challenging to reach. It was on the very top shelf, and seemed to be pushed back. Which was odd that it would be in suck an inconvenient place.

"Ugh," you sighed, straining your reach to grasp at it, fingers trying to nudge it closer to you uselessly, "Come on..."

You tucked your chin down to you chest in hopes that would be the extra inch you needed. But after your side started cramping you just gave up. Settling back down onto your heels as you rubbed your forehead, thoroughly annoyed.

A shuffling at the end of the isle caught your attention, glancing over-which turned into whipping your whole head to look. A shocked look on your face, lips pressed tight and eyes wide as you looked at the man at the other end of the isle, holding a basket in his hand and reading the label of a bottle.

He was...huge. Beyond huge. This mans head was easily looking over the top of the shelves and the basket in his hand looked like a child's toy basket.

Your eyes raked up and down his body, he looked...suspicious to say the least. Wearing dark clothing and lots of layers, big boots and a ballcap that was tugged down his face. A mask covering the lower half.

Pulling your gaze back to the items in front of you, you felt a weird feeling of unease rack up your spine, rolling around your ribs and getting lodged in your throat.

Sighing, minorly upset you were judging this stranger so hard but, considering the stress you'd been under recently it wasn't a surprise.

You'd been shorter with people lately, and didn't talk to strangers as much as you did before. You also stopped going to new places pretty much all together.

As you tucked your hair behind your ear you rubbed the back of your neck, looking up at the item you needed. Quickly picking up on the heavy sound of footsteps approaching you. Glancing out of the corner of your eye to see the man walking closer, looking at the shelves as he passed.

As he got closer you tucked your backset closer to yourself, and further out of his way. Trying to eliminate any points of talking or interaction with the man before it happened.

Clenching your jaw as you chanted 'please just keep walking, keep walking, keep walking' as he grew closer. The music playing through the crackled speakers in the grocery store putting you even more on edge.

"Ex-kyoos me?"

You cursed to yourself and looked next to you, a tight smile on your lips as you craned your neck to look up at him. His voice was higher than you expected it to be, and he had a thick German accent.

"Um, yeah?"

You looked at his face, smile faltering a little at the look in his eye. It was...unsettling, he looked excited. From the skin you could see it was pale and had thick dark eyebrows, his eyes were pretty blue, even under the shadowing of the cap. He had almost a pleading look to him.

"I don't mean to in-trood, but," he chuckled a little, gesturing up over your head to the shelf, "I no-ticed you strug-gling a lit-tle bit."

His words sounded a bit clipped with his accent, and you felt your face flush as you looked off to the side.

"Um, yeah it's," you looked up to the shelf, "A little high for me, I was ab out to start climbing the shelf honestly."

You chuckled a little at your joke, and the man let out a sharp laugh and nodded.

"Ah ja, I vas vondering if you vere going to," he locked his eyes to you, holding an uncomfortable amount of eye contact, "However, I vould be more than happy to help if, ah you don't feel like clim-bing."

You shrugged, looking at the shelf and smiling kindly, "Yeah I'd be happy for the help, thank you."

As you were about to step off to the side, clear out of the mans way, he stepped forward, nearly trapping you against the shelf. Reaching up and grabbing the stain remover easily. Your eyes were wide as you were nearly nose to chest with the man.

Blinking owlishly as you looked up to his face, brows pinched together tighty.

"Um..."

He smelled of, old sweat, and something mildly familiar. But not enough to place. He also smelled of smoke, like wood smoke, or a old campfire or something along those lines.

He stepped back with the item and his eyes were crinkled like he was grinning happily under his mask.

"Heer you are bärchen!"

He held the bottle out to you, you hesitated to grab it, hand reaching out impishly to grab it, placing it into your basket. Eyeing the man up and down.

"Thank you?" your pitch peaked at the end, licking your lips nervously as you bit them.

"Of course," his tone was cheerful and he didn't back up any more, still far too close for comfort, "Vy else be zis tall if not to help, ja?"

You chuckled quietly with him, glancing down at his basket, and to his large, sturdy boots. There was mud caked on them, almost to the point it was flaking off.

"Yeah that's a good point there," you nodded, putting your hands into pockets.

"A lot of clee-ning sup-plies, yes?" the man gestured down to your basket.

You looked down to yours, sighing out, "oh yeah, my clothes just won't stay clean recently, not sure how they're getting so dirty."

You regretted saying it the moment it came out of your mouth.

"Ah, den zis vill help. My mutter used to use lemon to clean grass stains out of my clothing as a mäuschen," the man laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man was a bout as wide as he was tall, your brain kicking into fight or flight as you looked at his arms, You swore you saw muscle moving even under all the clothing. His legs as well, they were obviously solid, about as thick as your torso.

"Oh, I'll try that one," you nodded along, then looked down at his basket. Almost upset that you noticed a handful of your favorite items, and your favorite brands.

That weird feeling made its way back with a vengeance. Nearly making you dizzy by how suffocated you felt being towered over by this man.

"I've actually," you grabbed your basket, lugging it into the crook of your arm, smiling sweetly at the man, but anyone could see how the corners of your mouth twitched and how tight your face looked, "I've really gotta get going, thank you very much though! It was very sweet..."

"Of course bärchen, any time."

You backed away, praying to any god out there that the man just let you leave. Quickly making your way out of the isle when he made no move to stop you, but he watched you intently the entire time until you were out of sight. Even then you felt like he was looking over the shelves to watch you. You must've broken a record with how fast you checked out and got to your car. Sighing heavily as you locked the doors. Smacking your head against the headrest.

The drive home was uneventful, but you'd taken a strange route just because you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that you were still being watching. Whipping around at a red light to look in the back seat of your car, finding nothing. Groaning to yourself and rubbing your face aggressively at how crazy you were acting. Really thinking someone tucked themselves into the back of your car-much less that 6'7" mountain from the grocery store.

"Christ, I'm loosing it."

When you got home your door was locked, and nothing was out of place inside. Putting your items away, and tossing your bag onto your couch. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you until you made it into your bedroom.

Where you found a package of your favorite chocolates on your pillow, and a pair of your missing underwear placed delicately by the chocolate, a pretty lacey bow tied around them.

You shouted loudly, throwing your heavy jacket down onto the floor, hair wild as you put your hands raked into it.

"God-damnit!"

[rekino2114]

How about 3 with fem kaiser and male reader

I imagine she'd give you a blue rose bouquet

Fem!kaiser giving you a bouquet and chocolate

Valentine's prompt #3

Prompts list

Pairing:fem!Michael kaiser x male reader

A/n:my first Valentine's Day post, and it's with one of my favorite characters to write for

"I-i'm sorry ma'am but we don't carry-"

"Tch"

Kaiser didn't even let the florist finish her sentence, a sentence that she had heard way too many times in a day. She hated when people repeated things to her, especially if it was something she didn't want to hear

"I should have expected that, this place is so trashy anyway"

The woman she was speaking to wanted to say something, but she knew better than to talk back to one of germany's most famous and important football players and people in general which was currently looking at her like she could buy this entire store 5 times and still have enough money to afford the incredibly expensive box of chocolates she was holding, which was actually very true

Kaiser sighed and simply walked outside of the store, not saying anything else. She sat on a bench inside of the mall she was in and ran a hand through her hair sighing even more heavily, she knew she fucked up and this was all just her fault.

She knew she shouldn't have waited until the last day to try to get the bouquet, but she was overconfident just like she was in football except that there her skills backed her confidence up but in this occasion there was no skill she could make use of, just the unpredictable mechanism of luck.

Unlike most holidays (Christmas especially), Michelle actually likes Valentine's day, sure it's cheesy and corny, but she can't deny that ever since she started dating you, she has become a bit cheesy and corny herself, giving you a blue rose bouquet every month with a note entitled to "my emperor💙" constantly showering you in praise and compliments and still using pick up lines even after years of dating but that's what feeling love for the first time ever does to a person. Kaiser loved you, and you deserved nothing short of perfection....which was exactly why she was disappointed that she couldn't give it to you today.

Her usual blue rose supplier had gotten sick and couldn't do his job. She was about to tell him to get up and do it anyway since she would still play a match while sick, but she didn't want to be that mean on a day about love so she just hung up without saying anything and went to look for blue roses in basically all of Munich's flower shops.

Of course, she knew that blue roses were very rare and literally unobtainable in nature. That's the whole reason why she got the tattoo in the first place, but what else could she have done? Give you normal roses? As if! She was the blue rose empress, that was literally her symbol. She wanted to get you blue roses so that every time you looked at them, you would think of her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. When she took it out of her pocket, she was relieved to see it was you calling her and not someone else to bother her even more.

"Hello, what is it schatz?"

"Hi Michelle, noa wanted me to ask you why you didn't come at practice today"

"Oh, I'm just shopping"

".....really, for what? You usually just send ness to do it or go with me"

".......well-"

"Speaking of ness, where is he? He didn't come either"

"Yeah......i sent him to buy something too"

"So.....you two are trying to buy the same thing but you're not together?"

"......yeah"

"....it must be important"

"It is"

"I see well I'll just tell noa you're busy and not bother you anymore, love you bye"

"Thanks, love you too"

The conversation kaiser had just finished made her feel even more guilty. You were just so sweet and perfect. The roses and chocolates you had given her this morning had already proven it to her among the mountains of other things you did for her.

You knew she didn't like receiving gifts, that she genuinely wouldn't have known how to react, but you still did it, simply telling her that it was just because of tradition and she didn't have to get you anything, but she wanted to, she wanted to get those damn blue roses.

She gritted her teeth as her anger rose. Why today of all days? Somehow, not being able to give you what you deserved felt even worse than getting a goal blocked by isagi

*ring ring*

"What is it?"

This time kaiser didn't even try to hide her frustration at however was on the other side of the phone

"K-kaiser, I found the roses"

"Finally! Where are they?"

"I-it's just-"

"Listen ness, I don't care what's happening there, I'll get the roses even if I have to kill someone to have them"

"But it's 800 euros for a bouquet"

"......ok and?"

"Isn't that......super expensive?"

"Yes and wildly overpriced. Like i told you, I'm getting those roses no matter what ,plus it's not actually that much for me, I can make that back in a match if I play well, and I always do"

"........o-ok"

After going to get the roses, kaiser and Ness went back to the bastard münchen building and were greeted by noa scolding them for not attending practice which Michelle mostly ignored as she told the magician to tell you to come to her room later.

"Hey babe, what-"

You gasped as the first thing you saw when you opened the door was kaiser holding a blue rose bouquet, smiling at you

"Happy valentine's day schatz"

"You didn't have to do this you know?"

"Yes, but I wanted to. You do so much for me. I would have felt terrible not giving you anything back"

She kissed you, wrapping her arms around you and guiding you to her large bed, where she placed the bouquet and opened the chocolate box

"Want some?"

The chocolates all looked amazing....and expensive, some of them had golden wrappers or phrases like I love you written on the chocolates themselves

"How much did this cost?"

"Please schatz don't worry about that"

She grabbed one of the chocolates with her fingers and held it out to you

"Do you need me to feed it to you~"

"I certainly wouldn't complain about that"

You opened your mouth as kaiser fed you the chocolates, you swallowed it, and your eyes lit up at how tasty it was

"So good!"

"Of course, I made sure they were all your favorite flavors. My emperor only deserves the best"

"What did i do to deserve you?"

"Just.....loving me"

Kaiser got close to you once again and hugged you. You hugged back as you let yourself fall on the bed with her on top of you. She kissed you passionately another time and continued kissing your face, leaving blue lipstick marks on it

"I love you so much schatz"

"Me too, I love you so so much"

Kaiser's smile widened as she moved to your right, hugging you even tighter. You were now fully cuddling on the bed

"Should I add the bouquet to the ones you always give me"

"If you want, I'd say this one is special, though. It cost me a lot, both in money and effort"

"Awww and you still brought it for me, you're so sweet"

"It's nothing, I'd do anything for you"

With those final words, kaiser kissed your forehead as you two continued to cuddle in silence. Her love warmed you up as you felt her heartbeat, which you knew was beating for you, the only person who showed kaiser love, her boyfriend, teammate, emperor, soulmate and now her valentine.

[siri-ike]

The spray was never supposed to last long. So when Tim came home and heard Dick say he'd sat there with "Bruce" for three full hours, he was concerned, to say the least. He can't still be in his fantasy. He can't still be this docile. Real Bruce wouldn't even be this docile, let alone "elementary school arson record" Bruce. But he just sat there. Staring at anyone who came into view.

His grip was tight, much tighter than he could pull off when he was high. And no way would Nightwing ever ask him to stop. He'd hold him forever if not for all their pesky human needs like eating and sleeping. Speaking of sleep, shouldn't he be getting tired? "Hey, Bruce?" Dick whispered so as not to disturb too much. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

Bruce shook his head. "I fell asleep, during Gray Ghost." His voice was calm and low (for a child), and he didn't even try to un-bury himself from his dad's hold.

This is big. He slept and didn't lose his memory. Dick waved Tim over.

"What?" Tim spoke at a normal volume.

"He didn't forget dinner." Dick kept whispering, but his excitement shined through. "He woke up at 4:43 pm yesterday, we had dinner at 9, afterward, he got to watch some Gray Ghost tapes and fell asleep. At 4:43 am he woke up again because Phantom was destabilizing as usual, but when Zatanna asked him what happened, he told her about dinner. He Remembered Dinner." Dick really emphasized the last part.

"That's great," Tim brought his tone down to match Dicks. "So then he's stable?"

"Stable? Dude, no. He's aging backwards."

"Oh, right. I forget people are supposed to get older." Tim said, fully serious. "I'll run some tests, and we should keep monitoring him."

"How about we run tests, and you go to your room and take some melatonin." Dick suggested. Let's see if he knows how aging works in the morning afternoon.

One hour later, at 9, Bruce was willing to eat. Dick hadn't left his side and could attest that he was calm non combative and ate like he hadn't seen food in a month. "Please don't be Stockholm syndrome, please don't be Stockholm syndrome," He repeated in his head. "It's too fast to be Stockholm, I can't let him leave. He thought he was dead a few hours ago. Wait, did he ever say he didn't?"

"Hey B? I, uh, Bruce?" He addresses the boy across the dining table.

"Yes, Father?"

Crap, crap, crap. Other age appropriate swears. Dick doesn't look anything like Thomas. If anything, he looks like Martha. No, wait, he looks like his own parents. Unless.

"Bruce, what is my name?" Nightwing fiddled with the mask in his hands.

Bruce just sat there, confused. Like he didn't expect him to have a name at all. "You're... you're, uh," He looked shamefully down at his food. "I don't know." His voice quivered.

"It's ok, Bruce. My name's Richard Grayson, Dick for short." He reassured. "Just one more question, alright?" He gave Bruce time to consider and nod. Nightwing put his arms down on the table and looked Bruce in the eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No~" his guilty expression instantly turned to utter glee.

Nightwing thought for a moment. "Are you dead?"

"No." He giggled.

"Then what are you?" So much for "one more question."

"I am not bound by life or death."

Dick didn't recognize the language, but it sounded otherworldly, almost like a mix of TRAP music and demonic incantations with a hint of backwards English. He also needed a minute.

"Alfred?" Dick asked head in his hands, slumped over in a chair in a corner of the kitchen. "I'm starting to think my son might be the devil."

"Master Dick, all parents think their children are devils from time to time. I certainly thought it with each of you, and look how you turned out... raising more hellspawn." He joked, kind of.

Dick couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think we need to move up our meeting with Harley." He sat up, hands on his knees as if to brace himself. "Bring her here, rather than go to her."

"Isn't she in Arkham right now?"

Nightwing pulls out his phone. "I'll figure something out." He scrolls through his contacts and finds two Jim Gordans. He picks the one with the incognito picture.

"Commissioner Jim Gordon." Jim answers.

"Hi, this is Nightwing. Remember that boy, a month ago, who claimed to be a clone of Batman?"

"Yes, he showed up right before all of you dropped out of the world. Did he survive?"

"Yeah, he's... something. Look, I need Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn, the clown or Harley Quinn, the doctor?"

"The doctor."

"You know there are plenty of psychologists in Gotham."

"And none can handle these sorts of things without losing their minds, too."

-Silence-

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

*click*

"Why do you need a doctor?" Bruce had innocently popped in, probably to talk to Alfred.

"Hey, buddy." It was impressive, really. Not many people can sneak up on him, especially not so casually. "Harley's a friend of ours. She's just going to talk to you. Think you could do that for me?" Dick has raised more than enough titans to know you can't force kids that age to do anything.

"M-hm." Bruce turned toward Alfred. "I had water and sleep and darkness, but my head still hurts. Can I have something?"

"Oh, dear." Alfred put his hand on Bruce's forehead. "Well, your temperature is normal. Where does it hurt?"

"Here, and here." He he presses on his forehead, then to the sides of his head just above the ears.

"I'm gonna give you one more Ibuprofen, and we'll do some tests after that." Alfred put the medicine box back on its top cabinet shelf. "How does that sound?"

"Good," Bruce placed the pill in the back of his throat with his hands like he was auditioning for a horror movie, then he downed the water like a normal person. He was about to head out but stopped. "Alfred? Can I have candy?" He pointed at the fancy glass bowl full of chocolate covered salt caramels.

"Last I checked, sugar does not remedy headaches... you can have one." Alfred didn't even look at the puppy eyes. He is not willing to put up a fight for something so small.

Bruce delightfully lifted the lid and, careful not to touch more than one, picked out a treat. He likes the ones with blue marzipan.

Nightwing watched him leave the room without a care in the world. "I think you just got played."

"The headache is real. And I believe more than just swelling. He may no longer be throwing up and seizing. But he's been asleep for almost a month, only waking up for an hour or less, always at the same time. Then there's the more recent confusion in identity. Those are not psychological symptoms. They are neurological." Alfred gave his most serious "listen very closely, I'm not even going to buffer this with sarcasm" face.

"I'll schedule a brain scan."

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

[vacz]

"Who are you looking at?" Bad End Friends (Comic)

I've spent all day trying to finish this comic! AHHHHH

So I present you an idea of a ship... Hunter x Ice Finn

"Why?" Well, if we think in the fact that in Adventure time's multiverse all the versions of Finn always ends up having a romantic relationship with a version of Huntress Wizard, and we take Bad End Friends as a canon alternative timeline where Finn didn't destroy Ice Finn's crown and so he later joined Bipper, how would Farmworld!Finn ends up with his version of Huntress Wizard as Ice Finn? Well the answer is simple: He doesn't end up with directly another version of her but someone who is similar to her... And guess who is more similar to Huntress Wizard?

That's right! Hun- Beast Wirt. I personally think Beast Wirt has actually more similarities with her since they both are like spirits of the forest who almost have the same personality, HOWEVER, I think Hunter and Ice Finn would have more CHEMISTRY and let me explain why:

They both are insane, they MATCH THEIR FREAK.

Ice Finn wouldn't be weird out for Hunter's appearance at all, like he did with the Lich, so Ice Finn would judge him according to his action and god- he gets it, At first he would hate him because Hunter is literally chopping people! But after getting an explanation of why he does this, Ice Finn would sympathize with the feeling of "wanting to protect your family" and want to help Hunter with his brother. Ice Finn proposed to Wirt the chance to save lives without having to change that much, and Hunter couldn't resist it, he could finally do something good for humanity! Maybe he could even redeem himself!

IT'S A KING AND KNIGHT DYNAMIC WITH SOME TONES OF PANTHERS IN CRIME

Hunter would watch around for people, and if he finds them then he should bring them to Ice Finn so he could freeze them. However, most of the time he spent it around Ice Finn himself, sometimes helping him with spells or other stuff like cooking, and other times just hanging around together. Their relationship is more equal than it seems, Hunter is just as enthusiastic as Ice Finn in saving lifes the way they do, Ice Finn constant joy and quick reactions are like fresh air for Hunter, who misses some real emotion in life, while Ice Finn has someone who actually cares about his safety and it's not manipulating him for his own selfish desires. Hunter loves Ice Finn's madness because it is a constant of movement, life and joy! While Finn isn't weird out at all by Hunter's more creepier madness, and actually finds him pretty cool and charming. They both don't judge each other and they are openly crazy together

Hunter is normally submissive, and has a craving for love to the point that he could fall really HARD for someone who shows him affection, of course Hunter would be protective and very jealous if someone tries something with Ice Finn, he thinks Finn as one of his more precious properties so Hunter would not let go this guy. Ice Finn is not innocent either, he was the one who kidnapped Hunter in the first place, Ice Finn makes him sleep on a cage even, you can say he also sees Hunter as a pet, one he loves so much but a thing at least...

However, even if they have these things that for normal people would be very toxic, for them is living a romance, a strange and delusional romance, where both souls lost deep in madness find each other to be their own guide though the black ocean of insanity

So tell me your opinion, I hope you guys like it! ^^

[buppkizz]

Do you think you can draw some sniperscout for widdle ol’ me?🙏🙏🙏🙏

hello luv i'm sorry i don't have a lot of time these days to do requests esp if it's something i wouldn't normally draw on my own. i am open for comms at a discounted price rn however :^) ! u can email me @ buppkizz02@gmail.com with refs/descriptions or dm for a quote but i'll try to make a nice official sheet soonish

[lsunstreakerl]

slinking out of my homework induced coma. darkbull! 1.7k words, carlos pov. (I'll be posting the "discipline" ficlet later today hopefully, but you guys get some insight into it with this one). once again: this is the darkbull universe. it's not as bad as the kidnapping ficlet but it's not great either.

Carlos breaths out a slow breath, fingertips grazing the cool metal in front of him. Wheatley watches impassively from a few feet away, protective headphones around his neck.

"Your father ever teach you to handle those?"

Carlos remembers being small, holding BB pellets in his hands, but-

That had been for fun. Not anything serious, just boys being boys, trying to see who had the best aim, who could hit the furthest can.

Nothing like this.

He wraps his fingers around the handle and lifts, feeling the weight in his palms. It feels heavy, but not as much as it should.

Something with the power to so easily take a life shouldn't be so easy to lift.

"He didn't teach me with one of these, no."

Wheatley nods, stepping closer and rearranging Carlos's fingers around the handle.

"It's going to have some kickback. I don't want you worrying about bullseyes yet. I want you making sure your aim is steady."

Carlos brings it up in front of him as Wheatley raises his headphones up, placing Carlos's over his ears as well.

He widens his stance a bit, steadies himself as much as possible. Wheatley had been telling him about this part- shoot on exhale.

He focuses on the target and lets his thumb flick over the safety.

This is not what he thought he'd be doing when he joined Formula 1- not even close. None of it is. He didn't think he'd be content in a "junior" team, he didn't think he'd end up entangled in part of a historical criminal empire, he didn't think he would be in a three way relationship where only two of them know what's actually happening.

At least- he thinks it's three way. If it's not now, it will be soon. Daniel has been circling him and Max, like the moon orbiting the Earth. He gets closer each pass, eating meals with them or doing workouts together, and Carlos knows Max is head over heels, so it's really only a matter of time.

Max wants Daniel, just like he'd wanted Carlos, and he gets what he wants.

Always.

Max getting what he wants is why Carlos is here in the factory basement, learning how to kill someone.

Max has no idea about the way the factory revolves around him. He's their guiding star, their perfect pet, their number one driver.

Carlos sometimes finds himself wondering if Max even realized what was happening when he was seventeen. Probably not- Carlos remembers Max at seventeen, angry and defensive. Nothing like the Max of now, fierce on track but happy to roll over for the team, let them do whatever they want to him.

If Carlos hadn't been present in the factory to watch the slow progression, he almost wouldn't believe it. He has to respect Redbull for their patience, but-

He's afraid of how long they're willing to play the long game. They'd been so careful with Max. They'd gained his trust, and they'd gone so slowly it's no surprise Max didn't notice.

Holding onto him just a bit longer in a hug than someone normally would, a hand slipping lower on his back or higher on his thigh, palms around his neck- the slow removal of personal space, of boundaries- the way there are always eyes on him. Max is so used to being observed he doesn't even register it anymore.

Carlos had pressed him against a counter the other day, because Max had been sweet and desperate and wanting, and he'd had a moment where he worried that someone could walk in.

And then Max had whined into his mouth and begged for his fingers, and Carlos realized he didn't care. Max's flat is bugged, there are trackers buried deep into muscle and flesh, the team has never had any grievances about drugging him- if someone walks in on them, they'll probably just be glad to see Max has his needs met.

Just like he'd feared, someone had walked in- gotten their drink from the fridge as normal, winked at Carlos, and then left.

The only change afterwards was that Carlos felt like the team approved of him more.

So. He's been proving himself right lately.

Carlos looks at the target in front of him. Max is so- Max is naive, about the whole thing. The team works very hard to keep it that way, and that responsibility now falls on Carlos as well.

He tries to imagine someone breaking in, trying to hurt Max, trying to kill Max-

Redbull would go on a warpath.

Carlos thinks of Max laid out underneath him in bed, curled up with him on the couch, running next to him on the track. Fierce, syrupy sweet Max.

He thinks of someone else getting that Max, someone who's not Redbull, someone who hasn't put in the work.

There's a sharp flicker of possessiveness through him.

Carlos fires.

------

Two weeks later:

Carlos has his back leaned against the headboard, Max asleep between his legs, head resting on his stomach.

Daniel steps back out of the bathroom, passing Carlos a washcloth.

"He out?"

Carlos nods, fingers absentmindedly running through Max's hair. It's been getting softer since Carlos convinced him to start using conditioner. It's getting longer as well- enough that Carlos can tug on it gently, enough that the ends of it curl at the nape of his neck.

"Yes."

Daniel pulls on a pair of sweatpants and settles next to Carlos, careful not to shift the bed too much. They're both talking quietly.

"Well, we know he likes that."

Carlos huffs a small laugh.

"We should keep a list."

He means it as a joke, but the way Daniel tilts his head, eyes assessing- it might not be a half bad idea.

Daniel reaches over to the bedside table, tearing out a piece of paper from one of their smaller notebooks as he snags a pen.

His eyes shift over to Carlos, and he sounds contemplative when he speaks.

"Wheatley's added evening meets to my schedule for the next two weeks- said I should ask you about it."

Well, that answers a question Carlos had been wondering about, if Daniel had been trained already or not.

"He's going to teach you to shoot. Also some knife work."

Daniel snorts, eyes crinkling over at him.

"Nah mate, seriously, what's it about?"

Carlos lowers his head a bit, eyes flicking back down to where Max is asleep between them.

"I am serious. We are around Max a lot- we should know how to protect him just as well as the rest of the garage."

Daniel's eyes are wide when Carlos looks back up at him.

"Oh."

He carefully folds the paper up before sliding it back in the drawer.

"When did they start teaching you?"

Carlos hums, lightly scratching his nails across Max's scalp. Even in his sleep he makes a soft noise, burrowing slightly closer to Carlos.

"Right after we got together. The team is very observant about these things."

Daniel nods.

"And he seriously doesn't know anything?"

Carlos shakes his head, but it's somewhat fond. How Max has managed to remain completely oblivious is a feat in itself, and Carlos has his suspicions that Max purposely ignores things that don't make sense. Ignorance is bliss, or something like that.

"No idea. I think maybe he gets suspicious when the team is mad at him, but it is hard to keep track during that time. He gets very lost."

"Mad at him- like a couple weeks ago with the Williams incident? The only thing I noticed was that he was a lot quieter and had a hard time staying focused. If anything, the team seemed nicer to him."

Daniel sounds confused, which is fair.

"Daniel, that is the punishment."

Carlos needs to think of a way to phrase this that doesn't send Daniel running for the hills, cultlike crime empire team bosses be damned.

Carlos had thought it was bad too, when he'd first learned, but he's since then seen the positive effects. Max really does do better this way, with the positive reinforcement, but sometimes they have to... wipe the slate first.

"The Williams thing, he was reckless, yes? Was not thinking of his own safety on that overtake, and it crashed them both out. He was not thinking of his own safety because the pundits that week were talking shit about him."

Daniel still looks confused.

"They were talking shit about the whole garage, yeah. That weekend sucked."

"So the most recent thing in his brain is the media, for that race. Makes him race bad. The solution is to,"

Carlos flounders for a second. Christian had explained this much better.

"The team 'wipes the slate', if that makes sense. When he is lost or unfocused, it is because they are trying to remind him of the actual priorities. You will hear them remind him often about how we want him to drive. The repetitiveness-"

Carlos spins his index finger a few times to mimic the motion.

"-it sticks with him. He doesn't remember specific things from that time if they only happen once, but if everyone is telling him frequently to look out for his own safety in the car... much easier for him to remember, yes?"

Carlos brings his hand back down. It really does make sense, if you skip past the questionable ethics.

"And he does not like to be confused like that, so he tries to do what the team asks and avoid it."

Daniel's brows are furrowed, and he looks concerned- but also deep in thought.

"How the fuck are they doing that?"

Carlos shrugs.

"No idea."

He lets the topic drop, because he does know. Had even helped with it, after the Williams incident, because it helps Max, but Daniel-

Daniel isn't ready for that yet. Might not agree to the group effort of slipping things in Max's food and drinks, keeping him unsteady and disoriented. Carlos doesn't like doing it, none of the team does, but it's a necessary thing.

Besides-

He looks back down at Max. He's so trusting of all of them. Eager to please, thrives on praise- none of them could bear actually being angry with him. It still hurts the heart of the team when he's confused like that, and it's upsetting to see the way he gets disoriented and lost, but he comes out of it better. It's the right thing to do for him, and it works.

Daniel will get looped in when he's ready.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Day 24: Mike's Desire to Act 'Normal' . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Today I want to talk about how Mike's clear desire to act like he's normal and happy in front of both El and Will is a metaphor for pushing down his queerness. Coupled with El lying to Mike and the audience knowing that, Mike's ability to turn himself into someone he's not (a shitty knockoff of Mike) shows that they are a relationship based on lies and forced conformity. The airport scene is one of my favourite scenes in Stranger Things, because of how ripe it is for this narrative.

The main takeaway from the scene is that both Mike and El seem happy, but Will's down in the dumps because of it. This means that their happiness is not supposed to be a desired outcome for their relationship. Which seems odd at first, BUT this is fixed by making the happiness fake.

So everyone jokes about how bad Mike's outfit is in the airport, like he just doesn't know how to dress, right? Well that's good, he's supposed to look terrible! The costume designers intended for Mike to look like he's trying something and failing. The audience is supposed to cringe and see that he's not very skilled at acting normal or acting like he belongs.

If they dressed him too well, the audience may accidentally get tricked into thinking he isn't repressing something. If they dressed him as he usually is dressed, then the message the writers are trying to make (that he's trying to be normal) wouldn't work.

Watch this GQ video with costume designer Amy Parris to not only see that the costume designers put so much thought into their designs but to also see that...

This outfit was him "trying to make things work in California". He is wearing something that is purposefully dissimilar to his usual clothes, they aren't even his clothes. He bought them at the airport.

The double meaning here is: he isn't being himself, he is trying to hide a part of who he is, he's trying hard to even if he's failing. Therefore, the clothes themselves are a symbol of conformity.

This isn't just with the way he dresses:

Mike is simply trying to be normal period. Not just with his outward appearance. He's also trying to act normal and stay normal. If you'd like, we can call this 'normal' for what it is -- being straight.

The word 'normal' specifically is used abundantly with CANONICALLY queer characters in Stranger Things in scenes where they express or other characters express how they're trying to be straight and not themselves:

This 'normal' occurs with Robin in S3, describing how badly she wanted to be popular. We later find out she just wanted to be able to be straight:

This 'normal' also occurs with Will in S1, where Jonathan says that their dad 'is trying to force you to like normal things'. Lonnie is canonically abusive towards Will because of his queerness.

So if the word 'normal' clearly means that these characters are wanting to be straight, being forced to be straight, doesn't that mean that Mike is also trying to act straight?

No, he's just trying to act like he doesn't like D&D in front of El or those childish things like in S3!!!!

If Mike is trying to be 'normal' in that respect, then why is he totally fine with saying that he 'doesn't want to be popular', and totally fine with hanging out with the most ostracised group in Hawkins High?

He's only trying to be normal around El. He's only not himself when he's with his girlfriend. Yikes...

Alone, him trying to be normal in front of El may not be seen as queer coding, rather, it just means their relationship is wrong. But him tamping down his edginess -- aka succumbing to conformity that Eddie hates so much -- is supposed to be a metaphor for him tamping down his queer identity, and conforming. Just like with Robin and Will.

And to Mike, acting normal means not hugging Will. What's so unnormal about that Michael? Clearly it means he just wants to act straight, and in romanticising his actions with Will, he has feelings for Will, and so acting stand-offish with Will is him 'acting straight'.

So by now in the Airport scene, we should know that Mike is acting extremely off with Will, with everybody. In this moment, the audience may not have enough time to try and figure out why he's acting so odd, but luckily, Argyle comes in to metaphorically tell us the reason:

"It's a shitty knockoff" -- causing this scared, anxious looking reaction: (even though we would expect Mike to look annoyed like usual)

(In case you don't understand subtext, this basically means that Mike is the knockoff)

If he's a knockoff, it means he's not acting how he wants to act. Not hugging Will is him not being himself. The audience is also supposed to obviously root for characters to be themselves right? So the writers here want you to see that conformity in Mike is causing him to tamp down his true feelings, making himself unhappy, turning himself in a fake-Mike. Therefore his coupley moments with El in this scene are also fake.

This is conveyed in the next segment:

During the whole section of Mike 'listening' to El, he has his arm around her protectively, but we already know that El is lying to him and that Mike is trying his best to act normal and is a 'knockoff' version of himself. Therefore, he is basically acting the part of a 'normal' (meaning: straight) person here.

He's acting like he's listening, he's doing all the things he's seen couples do, but he's not really in it at all.

Calling your girlfriend's interests/suggestions weird? Yeah, no. This isn't the sign of a 'cute couple' guys, besides, El then goes onto lie about him and Will's the one that seems concerned.

His body language with the kiss as well? Is all the proof I need that he's just trying to pretend.

This is not out of romantic love, if it was, then the writers would have put more romantic music behind it, made it last WAY LONGER than a millisecond, had them in a less busy and overwhelming environment, and had Mike's lips actually touch El's head without her having to lean into it.

So if El's lying and Mike's trying to act as straight as possible? They're relationship is fake and not worth rooting for. Mike cannot say I love you to her, which is 'fixed' later. But you know what's not fixed? That he still can't act like himself around her. They do not understand each other. These are not things fixed by the love monologue and need to be addressed in S5.

The desired outcome of the scene is supposed to be for the audience to want Mike to actually be himself, for one day Mike finding out about El's lies, and for Will to stop being sad. It is not supposed to be: 'oh Mike and El are such a cute couple!!111!!!' It shows how much Mike has been effected by his internalised homophobia, enough to force himself to try and act in what he thinks is a 'normal' way -- a straight way.

[tinydefector]

Behind the Scenes 5- DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: classic Tim being obsessed over unknowns.

Masterlist

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The Wayne Manor was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, save for the occasional sound of footsteps and the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. Tim sat in the library, his laptop open on the table in front of him, several tabs pulled up as he combed through every scrap of information he could find on Sarah, the nursery, and, most frustratingly, Y/N.  

He was so engrossed in his search that he didn’t notice the faint creak of the door opening behind him.  “You’re doing that thing again,” came Duke’s voice, breaking the silence making Tim jolt slightly, looking up from his screen. As Duke leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a curious grin on his face.  

“What thing?”  a frown slowly creased its way onto his lips as he stared Duke down. “You know,” Duke snickers, walking into the room and dropping into a chair across from him. “The thing where you get all hyper-fixated on something and start acting like a conspiracy theorist. You’re, like, two coffee cups away from turning this into a full-on crime board with red string.”  

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not a conspiracy. I’m just... looking into something.”  

“Uh-huh,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at the laptop screen. “So what’s got you all worked up this time? Serial killer? Corporate espionage? Secret society trying to take over Gotham again?” Tim hesitated for a moment, weighing whether or not to bring Duke into this. But before he could respond, another voice chimed in.  

“Tim’s got a new obsession?” Dick sauntered into the room, his usual grin plastered across his face. He flopped onto the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table despite Tim’s glare and groaning over not wanting to have everyone snooping in his business and his mini case.  

“I don’t have an obsession,” Tim said flatly.“You totally do,” Duke said, smirking. “He’s been glued to that laptop since breakfast. And judging by the way he muttered, ‘Why would she bury that recording?’ earlier, I’m guessing it’s something juicy.”  

Dick perked up at that, his grin widening,  eagerly trying to look over Tims shoulder to see what sort of case he had been working on or piecing together “Ooh, now I’m interested. Spill, Sherlock.”  

“It’s nothing,” Tim said quickly, closing one of his tabs. “Just... something weird I noticed at the nursery Alfred and I went to yesterday.” Dick raised an eyebrow, before shooting Duke a look. “a nursery? the one Alfred dragged you to?”  

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, clearly reluctant to elaborate. Duke and Dick exchanged a look before and then Duke is leaning forward with a smile as his eyes dance across the screen trying to catch snippets of what he can read. “Okay, now you have to tell us. What’s so weird about a nursery?”  

Tim knew he wasn't getting out of this, he wasn't the only detective in the family and knowing his luck one of them would figure something out if they didn't just blatantly ask Barbara to hack his computer. He lets out a reluctant sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Fine. There’s this guy who works there—Y/N. He’s... not normal.”  

“Not normal how?” Dick asked, his curiosity clearly piqued.  

Tim hesitated again, trying to figure out how to explain without sounding insane. “meta, has a way animals and plants react to him like nature takes to him. It normally wouldn't be a problem except this is me, I get a weird feeling while there, he's what’s making my detective instincts go off so i dig a bit And then there’s this video of him and Ivy...”  

That got their attention. “Wait, Poison Ivy?” Duke asked, sitting up straighter. “What kind of video?” Tim opened his saved files scrolling through until he found it, pulling up the grainy footage he’d found the night before. He hit play, and the three of them watched as Y/N and Ivy stared each other down, the crow perched on Y/N’s shoulder shifting uneasily while the plants around Ivy swayed in her presence.  

No one said a word as the clip played out, showing Ivy turning and leaving without so much as a word, while Y/N remained frozen in place. When the video ended, Dick let out a low whistle. “Okay, that is weird. Like not as weird as I was expecting but more so the fact that Ivy just straight up turned around and walked off ”  

“Exactly,” Tim said, gesturing at the screen. “Ivy doesn’t just back down like that. Not unless there’s a good reason. And then she never went back to the nursery again. Ever.” Duke frowned, leaning closer to the screen. “What’s the deal with the crow? It’s just... sitting there, like it’s his pet or something.”  

“That’s the thing,” Tim said, pulling up another clip from the security footage. This one showed Y/N walking through the nursery, with the same crow trailing after him. “Animals act weird around him. They follow him around, leave him little trinkets... it’s like they’re drawn to him.” Dick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the second clip. “So he's a nature based Meta?, i mean it's not the first time we have had run in’s with them, but he doesn't seem hostile. So why is he on your radar?”  

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He's just… his file seems to be clean, No criminal record, no connection to Ivy or anyone else in Gotham’s rogue gallery. He’s just a guy who works at a nursery.” Tim really doesn't know why he was so fixated, but after the rumours of Ivy having an apprentice and then Y/n, it couldn't be a coincidence. 

“And yet,” Duke said, pointing at the screen, “Ivy looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. That’s not nothing.” “Exactly,” Tim said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s something going on with him. I just don’t know what it is yet, i'm trying to find information, whether he's involved with Ivy somehow, and well i've heard she has an apprentice, and him showing up”  

Dick leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You think he's involved?”  

“like 73%, there is a probability that he isn't but with everything so far, i just need to see if there is anything else with him and Ivy, because it may, may have been a fluke of two people with nature based abilities having a stare down, but even that probability is extremely low” Tim said. “Interesting,” Dick said, tapping his chin. “So what’s your next move, Detective Drake?”  

Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t have a ‘next move.’ I’m just... keeping an eye on things for now. He hasn't caused any chaos that im aware of, so i'm just observing ”  

Duke snorted, trying to cover up a cackle. “Yeah, right. You’re already planning to go back there, aren’t you?”  

“I—” Tim paused, realizing they weren’t wrong. “Classic Tim. You get a mystery in your head, and you can’t let it go. You’re gonna end up camped out in the nursery parking lot with binoculars, aren’t you?, mightstart calling you Inspector gadget again”  

Tim huffed, closing his laptop. “Whatever. You guys don’t get it. There’s something weird going on with Ivy, and I’m going to figure out what it is. And so far everything is pointing towards Y/n”  

“Sure, sure,” Duke said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But hey, let us know when you crack the case. This is way more interesting than patrol. I happen to enjoy when you get yourself wrapped in an obsessive state over a case”  Tim glared at him and if a look could freeze Duke it would have, but Dick just laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Don’t work yourself into a frenzy, Tim. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”  

“You’re not taking this seriously.”  “Oh, we are,” Duke said, holding up a hand. “It’s just more fun to watch you spiral.”  

“I’m not spiraling!”  Tim hissed out in defence. “You are definitely spiraling,” Dick said with a chuckle. “But hey, I get it. Weird guy, weird vibes, weird encounter with Ivy—it’s a classic Gotham mystery. I’d be curious too.” Tim groaned, slumping back in his seat. 

Before anyone could say more, the subtle sound of footsteps caught their attention.  Cass walked into the room, her dark eyes scanning the scene in front of her. She tilted her head, clearly intrigued by the animated discussion.

What are you talking about?

she signs, it takes her a moment to make sure she had signed it right. And took Duke and Dick a bit longer to translate it than it did Tim. 

 

The three boys exchanged a look, and then Duke grinned. “Oh, Cass, you’re gonna love this. Tim’s got a new mystery guy.” Cass blinked, her gaze shifting to Tim. “Not like that!,” Tim said quickly, his face flustering pink as he elbows Duke. “It’s not a thing. It’s just... There's this guy at the nursery Alfred took me to. He’s… a meta who has similar abilities to Ivy.”  

Cass raised an eyebrow and sat down on the armrest of the couch near Tim, silently encouraging him to continue. “Okay, so there’s this guy, Y/N, who works at the nursery. Animals and plants act weird around him, like they’re drawn to him. And the footage I found shows him having some kind of... standoff with Poison Ivy. She didn’t attack him. She didn’t even say anything. She just... left.”  

Cass frowned slightly, her expression thoughtful.

Not normal?

she signs simply. “Exactly!” Tim said, gesturing at her like she’d just proved his point. “Show her the video,” Duke said, nodding toward the laptop.  

Tim hesitated for a moment, then pulled up the footage again and turned the screen to face her. Cass leaned in, watching closely as the grainy video played out. Her sharp eyes followed every detail. Y/N standing frozen, the crow on his shoulder shifting restlessly, Ivy’s calm but deliberate retreat. When the clip ended, Cass sat back, her brow furrowed. Her finger moves to point towards his neck and cheek.

Leaves?   

Cass pointed at the screen. “Y/N. He’s nervous, but... not afraid. Not of her.” Her voice is rather quiet and slightly raspy as she talks, making an uncomfortable face as she analyses the young man. “Calm. Like... he belongs.” she continues. “Belongs?” Tim repeated, his frown deepening. “What do you mean by that?”  

Cass gestured vaguely toward the screen. “Plants. Animals. They like him. Trust him. He doesn’t force it. It’s... natural. like..”  She's trying to find the right word but can't. “zїna biando ” Dick mutters his accent coming out for a moment. Making everyone look at him. “You said there were little leaves and vine patterns On his skin, can you zoom in enough on them?” he asked rather fascinated, he hadn't heard stories of the Fae born since he was a child. 

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed what Dick had said. The image is blurry but they can all make out the very fine line little leaves that seem to pulse under Y/n's skin, they look like little fine leaf ferns or something akin to them. 

“ he’s not controlling them,” Dick said slowly. “It’s more like... they’re drawn to him because of what he is. My Daj used to tell me stories about the fairies when I was little, about how they used to steal babies away when they were small and replace them. Used to scare me shitless as a kid”  

Duke let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s... kind of cool. Still weird, but cool.” Tim, however, wasn’t satisfied. “That still doesn’t explain why Ivy backed off,” he said, staring at the screen. “She doesn’t care about people who are meta She only cares about plants. If she left him alone, it’s because she saw something in him. Something that made her think he wasn’t a threat—or maybe she was afraid of him.”  

“Maybe he isn't a meta, Dick did just say he reminded him of fairies, and I know for a fact they aren't cute little winged creatures that fly around granting wishes. Ever think he might be something outside of the normal ” Duke said, while shooting Dick a look of ‘you said it not me’  

“Or,” Dick said with a grin, “maybe he’s secretly her long-lost nephew.”  and that just makes Tim groan. “You’re not helping. One moment you're saying he's an ancient being and the next that he's her nephew you're impossible you know that.”  

Cass nodded. “But don’t push too hard,” she added, her expression softening. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason.” Tim considered her words, then nodded slowly, he trusted Cass’ advice more than a lot of other people's. She was good at reading people and understanding them from just a glimpse. “Alright. I’ll keep digging, but... carefully.”  “Good,” Cass said, a small smile tugging at her lips.  

Duke grinned. “Man, this is shaping up to be way better than I thought. Let me know if you find anything juicy, Tim.” Dick chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Yeah, keep us updated on your new favorite mystery guy. But i'm probably going to head, i want to try and make it back to Blüdhaven before the midday rush, I'll catch you all next week, oh Jason's also organising for an arcade night next Saturday”  

Tim turned back to his laptop, her words echoing in his mind. Whatever Y/N was hiding, Tim was more determined than ever to find out. But now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Cass might be right whatever the truth was, it wasn’t going to be simple.

—----

The quiet hum of Y/N’s voice filled the small apartment as he moved from plant to plant, watering can in hand. The soft golden light of the morning poured in through the window, illuminating the small jungle he’d created on his windowsill. Each plant looked healthier than it had any right to leaves vibrant, stems strong, buds ready to bloom.  

Out on the balcony railing, the crow that frequently visited him sat fluffed up, the soft clicks and occasional caws breaking the otherwise peaceful silence as it fiddled with the toys and treats stuck in them. 

“You guys are looking better,” Y/N murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over the leaves of a small, struggling fern. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid of hurting the delicate greenery. “Knew you just needed a little love. Glad I brought you home, hopefully this fertilizer will be more gentle on you than the stuff at work.”  

The fern seemed to perk up under his touch, its leaves ever so slightly unfurling. Y/N smiled softly at the sight, a quiet sense of pride blooming in his chest. He moved on to the next plant, a wilting orchid he’d taken from the nursery just a week ago. It had been deemed unsellable, the kind of plant most people would have thrown away without a second thought, after all orchids were known for being a hard plant to keep alive. But Y/N had seen potential in it, like he always did. Changed the substrate it was in for rock moss in hope it would help keep it from getting root rot.  

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be beautiful again soon,” he said softly. He added a small pinch of his homemade fertilizer mix and gave the orchid an encouraging tap on the side of its pot. The crow clicked again, drawing Y/N’s attention. He glanced toward the balcony, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What? You want some attention too?I just gave you blueberries and peanuts trying to swindle more treats out of me?”  

The bird fluffed itself up further in response, letting out a soft caw. “Alright, alright,” Y/N said with a chuckle, setting the watering can aside. He stepped out onto the balcony, resting his forearms on the railing as he looked out at the city. The crow hopped closer, its beady eyes locking onto him. “You’re so spoiled, you know that?” Y/N said, reaching out to scratch the bird's head. The crow tilted its head, leaning into the touch.  

Y/N let out a contented sigh, his gaze drifting back to the plants inside. The apartment was small, but it felt alive, every corner brimming with greenery, from the hanging pots in the kitchen. It was a little sanctuary in the middle of Gotham.   

As he finished tending to the last plant, stepping back and surveyed his little indoor garden. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “There we go. You guys are all set.”  

Y/N settled into his couch, the crow flying in to perch on the backrest beside him. He grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV, the soft hum of the news anchor’s voice filling the room.  

The familiar Gotham News Network “ temperature. Highs today will reach the mid-50s, but by tomorrow morning, we’re looking at lows in the upper 30s. So, make sure to bundle up and keep an umbrella handy, expect ice on the roads and perhaps even some snow!”  Y/N ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the plants by the window. If it did snow he'd have to bring all the plants from the balcony inside, he didn't want them to get frost burn. “You guys are lucky you don’t have to deal with the cold,” he muttered with a small smile.   

“In other news, a multi-car pileup on the Gotham Expressway has left three people injured and caused significant delays for morning commuters. Authorities say the accident was caused by a trailer losing control on a slick patch of road. Emergency services are working to clear the road.” Footage of flashing lights, emergency vehicles, and crumpled cars filled the screen, followed by a statement from a spokesperson for the Gotham City Police Department.  

“Thankfully, no fatalities have been reported, but we urge drivers to exercise caution, particularly with rain expected later today. And positive snow and ice in the coming days”  

Y/N sighed, shaking his head. “Gotham traffic is bad enough without stuff like that, guess ill be leaving extra earlier for my shift on monday so i dont get caught” he murmured.  

The anchor’s shifted again this time to a woman at a desk, this time to the lighter, polished tone reserved for celebrity gossip.  

“And here in Gotham, headlines as Bruce Wayne announced a new charitable initiative at yesterday’s gala. The initiative, focused on improving inner-city schools, will launch with a $10 million donation from Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Wayne, known for his philanthropic efforts, spoke briefly to reporters about the project.”  

The screen cut to footage of Bruce Wayne, dressed in a sharp suit, smiling politely as he addressed a crowd of reporters outside the venue. “This city’s children deserve every opportunity to succeed and have a chance for a better future, ” Bruce said, his tone calm and confident. “Education is the foundation of a brighter future, and it’s our responsibility to provide the resources and support they need to thrive.”  

The clip ended, cutting back to the anchor.  

“Wayne Enterprises CEO Tim Drake-Wayne also announced plans to partner with several local nonprofits to ensure the funds are distributed effectively. This comes on the heels of a recent spike in Wayne Enterprises’ stock prices following the successful launch of their clean energy program.” Y/N let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch. “Man they are always busy, that lot” he said, shaking his head.  

Y/N lounged back against the couch, one leg draped over the armrest as he lazily flicked through the channels. The familiar static hum of old TV shows filled the room, and he settled on an episode of mind-numbing drama that he didn’t care enough to name. It wasn’t for the story; it was just background noise to accompany the quiet peace of his apartment.  

Reaching to the side table, Y/N grabbed a small stack of books he’d been working through. The worn covers and dog-eared pages spoke of his frequent use, each book filled with handwritten notes, underlined passages, and little scraps of paper sticking out as bookmarks.  

His fingers trailed over the spine of one before he opened it, flipping to a section he’d been revisiting lately: remedies for colds and flu. The weather report replayed itself in his mind—a sudden cold front, rain, and dropping temperatures. He already knew what that meant.  

Mrs. Callahan from down a floor would be knocking soon, asking for something to help with her sinuses, which he'd then remind her she needed to see a doctor over it. And Mr. Moran would probably stop by later in the week, claiming he wasn’t sick while sniffling through every word. Y/N smirked as he flipped through the pages, his fingers tapping softly against the book’s edge.  

He didn’t mind. His neighbors weren’t bad people, and they were always grateful for the little tinctures and herbal teas he whipped up for them. Better than the over-the-counter stuff, they always said. “Alright,” he murmured to himself, scanning a recipe for elderberry syrup. “Elderberries, ginger, honey, cinnamon... got plenty of that. Should probably make a bigger batch this time.”  

His eyes shifted to another section, one detailing a simple herbal vapor rub. He scratched at the faint stubble on his jawline, making a mental note to check his stash of eucalyptus oil. After jotting down a few quick notes in the margins of the book, Y/N stood, stretching his arms above his head. The soft rustling of the nearby plants caught his attention as he moved. Their leaves seemed to shift slightly toward him, as though drawn by some invisible force. He paused, smiling faintly.  

“You guys are so needy,” he teased lightly, brushing his fingers over the nearest set of leaves.  Y/N wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl and a few jars from the cabinet. He worked methodically, humming softly as he pulled ingredients from various cupboards. His crow companion let out a soft caw from its perch on the back of a chair, watching him with the same curious intensity it always seemed to have.  

Y/N said, tossing the bird a small piece of dried fruit he’d left out on the counter. The crow caught it mid-air, clicking in approval as it settled down to eat. The herbs and jars are spread out across the counter as Y/N begin to measure and mix. The faint scent of cinnamon and honey filled the air as he started on the elderberry syrup, carefully boiling the berries with spices before straining the mixture into a pot.  

______________

Translation: 

zїna biando - fairy born

Daj - mother

______________

homemade cough and cold syrup 

Elderberry syrup 

1 cup dried Elderberries 

4 cups water 

½ cup honey or sweetener of choice 

A piece of ginger 

4 cloves 

2 cinnamon sticks 

(Optional add ins) 

2 sprigs of rosemary 

3 star anise 

1 tbsp of Yarrow 

Garlic and Honey 

Add garlic and honey into a jar of choice and let ferment for 4 weeks. Make sure to tip and burp your jar at least once every two days. 

Fire cider 1L worth 

1 red onion 

2-3 jalapeno's or chilli's 

1 large orange 

1 lemon 

1 head of garlic smashed 

1 bunch of thyme 

1 bunch of rosemary

Small handful of peppercorns 

5 cloves 

A cinnamon stick 

Dried cayenne pepper 

Ginger (measure with your heart) 

Turmeric (half of your ginger) 

Fill jars with raw apple cider vinegar once everything is in the jar

(Honey is Optional) 

___________________

Also, for everyone, this here was the rescue Crow I had for a while who still visits my grandmother, his name is Kohl. He's the base of the crow in the story, so I hope you enjoy it.

Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for this fic.

[fallenangelofsalt]

*slowly raises hand like im in class*

I personally think TDL is in the wrong about a LOT of things, but I would like to point out that him going to attack stickfigures after those rampages or the fight with TCO is also pure speculation. Sure, he's shown to be a lot more likely to do that than TCO, but then why is the city nearby not in ruins yet? And the thing about all sites being used by humans, the point is that none of the sites shown as Virabot targets are sites likely to have stickfigures in them. What is a stick gonna do in twitter?

And why the heck would he NOT think the CG is working for Alan? That cursor came from SOMEWHERE and the CG are the only other unexpected factor in the mix, of course he would think so, and Orange is very obviously a hollowhead, something that only Alan's creations have in common.

I don't think his hatred towards Alan was ever about Chosen, if your creator gave you an impossible task that you had no idea how badly could go for you, and then just kept playing solitaire while you are left at the mercy of someone who had every right to kill you then and there, wouldn't YOU be mad?

I don't think he was ever in the right with the things he did, exept maybe throwing that Virabot at Alan's PC considering he had no way of knowing there were stickfigures there at the time (you'd think having his old PC blown up would prevent him from trying that again, and it did, its just that TSC is an anomaly even in creation) but besides that, every bad thing he did had been done with TCO at his side, and I personally think TDL never had a chance to be good.

I have a personal theory that every hollowhead reflects Alan in some way. Now, this is pure theory, no need to read this part, but here's how I think:

Victim mirrors Alan's methodical torture. Now, Vic does it more as a means to an end rather than pure entertainment, but Alan is also shown to use stickfigures, TCO was enslaved as an ad block, TDL was created to kill TCO, and TSC was allowed to live and keep his friends as long as he helped with animating. Victim torturing TCO is more of a consequence than him being that way normally, but overall Vic is a watered down version of early Alan with a tragic backstory.

TCO has the same narrow worldview, he doesn't show any signs of remorse or hesitation until they're attacking stickfigures, and Alan doesn't even consider that maybe stickfigures have emotions until TSC talked.

TSC reflects the more positive aspects of Alan, like his love for animating and ability to create life.

TDL meanwhile, reflects a LOT of early Alan. Lack of empathy and disregard for stickfigures for example, as well as creating things with the purpose of destruction, and sadism.

The thing is, TDL was never meant to value stickfigures, and I don't think he ever had the opportunity to besides Chosen. Even if they both had a say in their targets it is very likely that Chosen had been leading at the beginning, considering in AVA3 TDL was only ever shown to follow others. The only part where he could argueably be the one leading is when the icons join the fight and that is very brief.

The only possible reason I can think of as to why that nearby city hasn't been attacked yet is that either Dark has no interest in doing so or Chosen has somehow gotten over his abysmal communication skills long enough to say maybe lets not.

And even if Chosen gets all the credit for their attack on newgrounds why would Dark interact with other sticks at that point? Alan had stick Jesus show up on his PC while he was doing laundry and the only reason why TSC didn't get deleted is a freak combination of uno reverse card powers, drawing skills and the ability to talk.

I'm rambling at this point but

TL;DR Dark is absolutely in the wrong but I see him as a what if Alan had actually tried to delete TSC, you know? The only real difference is that Alan saw a last minute reason to keep TSC around and TDL didn't. So I think he could mellow out given opportunity and time but now he's dead so :/

A message to all Dark Lord defenders

As someone who is vehemently against the idea that Dark is in any way sympathetic, I invite you to try and change my mind, I want to have a conversation with you all, because I genuinely think it's interesting that so many can look at a character who I think is a completely irredeemable asshole and see something more charitable.

So go on Dark defenders, go wild, explain all of your arguments and I will do my best to argue against them (or, maybe even agree with them if I think they make sense.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

back again but its both a question and a rant yippee.

So while doing dishes I was thinking about how the power level of characters are affected both by wether or not the story happens just in their au and one or two or wether its a multiverse story along with the characters that inhabit that multiverse.

There are some character like Error who when you think about it raise the power level for all other Sanses by simply existing in the multiverse. Like Error he was a normal Sans who became a destroyer of world which means theoretically any sans can achieve that power level not necessarily the same way but it's possible. I generally see Error, Ink, and Reapertale gods on the same level or one is somewhat higher then the other with Dream and Nightmare underneath them meaning every other sans must be below them all because of trying to balance power levels for characters who were never meant to really interact.

Error being called the God of Destruction and being powerful enough to destroys aus with the lift of a hand means that Ink as the protector of the multiverse must be a match wether stronger or weaker must be on about the same power level it also why Ink is often made the God of Creation in aus to be Error counterpart similar to Dream and Nightmare.

Nightmare would be more powerful then Dream even if people often don't portray this and that's because even if Dream weaker then Nightmare his powers are able to directly harm him.

But by being guardian of emotions this makes other sanses who wouldn't be consider gods and even those who could be considered gods still seen as weakers. As both Dream and Nightmare are often bumped up to being gods so that characters with godlike power or who are gods would still be weaker then them.

Like when I think of characters like Color or Killer who are often made much weaker then Nightmare and Dream when really they wouldn't be. For example Color I don't see how Nightmare would be able to actually kill him besides indirectly. If Color has the strength of the six souls that boost his own powers and stats then the likelihood of Nightmare actually being able to kill him goes down drastically the best example of this is Omega Flowey who has the power of six souls and while at some point you start to doing damage to him this is more like a Manipulation of stats which characters can canonically do for example Papyrus. It's the six souls rebelling that do any real damage to him. Color defense, attack, and hp would be significantly higher it seems like Defense usually gets the biggest buff. Nightmare canonically doesn't seem like he actually fights people often more hiding in the shadows using his aura to make the air around others more negative causing people to kill themself or fight others that's canon on the other hand Color has experience fighting more so frighting someone who's stronger than him.

Killer when you really think about it. Is much stronger then people give him credit for it seems like a lot of the time Killer is made weaker only because it's hard for him to fight back against Nightmare. Its not that Nightmare necessarily stronger than him because if Nightmare were to take damage for regular attacks he would loose Nightmare would never win in 1v1 if he could take damage from something other than emotions. Nightmare isn't affected by Resets not that resets are not incapable of happening around him just that he physically isn't affected which is something Killer could use against him refreshing himself while Nightmare state is left as is. The only really thing preventing Killer from killing Nightmare is the fact that he currently can't physically harm him and therefore kill him that's only possible with the comete absence of emotions wether that means negativity and positivity or just no negativity I'm unsure of joke didn't exactly specify.

So if Killer is stronger in a fighting sense then Nightmare then how much stronger would he actually be especially if theirs a multiverse without Dream or Nightmare when unconstricted and his full potential related how strong would he be? He's stronger then Dust and Horror. Cross who would be a harder fight but I do think he could overcome him. I mean underverse and everything with Gaster and everything he did was because he couldn't beat out their determination with his Perseverance and resets can undo what overwrite does so its not as if its impossible for him to go up against Cross. Its harder to say because depending on who's canon it is affects how strong he is but considering in his own canon he kicks cross and inks butt he's stronger. Actually in his own canon he's strong enough to take on all 3 star sanses no problem and put them in bad condition. I've seen comments about how Blue canon Blue would kick Killer butt but would he really? The more I think about it the more unlikely it seems while Blue would definitely be hard enemy to fight emotionally his stats canonically are quite low even if he now has the power of a sans and control of a Papyrus. Killer has infinite tries and has fought many before like him or stronger.

What do you think how strong do you think Killer would be if he wasn't constricted by other peoples canon and if the full extent of his potential and powers were realized. Like what abilities do you think he could gain at the height of his power. I know he already has all the powers of a sans, plus he is able to summon magically blades it's just that it was a katana the one time he did but he could still make other blades. And he has acces to reloads, resets, saves, and erase. What else could he accomplish Flowey an in-game character is able to dig around the game files of their world could Killer do the same even if it's not his world could he change things?

What do you think?

~Musical Anon

IIRC, ink’s creator has said he’s not like a God or anything, so not sure how that’d factor in to power levels and stuff. He’s basically a dude that declared themself the Protector of the Multiverse and made that his entire purpose in life.

I remember reading last night that he can somehow edit codes of AUs, but it wasn’t said how, and it was said that Ink doesn’t use it because he wouldn’t alter an AU like that.

Killer, in a similar vein, is at least aware of codes; because he knows that each individual’s soul has its own individual code, and he’s certainly interested in codes and studying them and the souls. Unclear if he has yet to figure out how to alter or change them like Ink seemingly can.

Similar to how Killer sees and understands it, it all depends on how we view it and who, to us, is the “strongest.”

Also, Color has been stated by his creator to definitely be magically stronger than Killer and Murder. She was iffy on details when it came to Error, though.

That being said, Color is kinda like a glass canon; he’s extremely magically strong, very likely enough to stand against people like Nightmare and Dream, but he is physically fragile and weak.

His own power will cause him to crack, break, dust and die if he overuses it and goes past his limits.

however, it’s pretty obvious that Color is basically a reanimated corpse. Absorbing the souls was a move he seemed to have expected to kill him, and it probably would’ve permanently, if not for either the souls themselves or Gaster keeping him alive. If not both.

It was stated that Color almost died (or did die) during an attempt to escape the Void, but is only still alive because Gaster held him together somehow.

[ajalholland]

Knight in shining armor (Sephiroth x shy reader)

WARNINGS: Language

Sephiroth stood on one of the decks of the massive cruise ship, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He had not wanted to be sent here, but Shinra thought it best for him to take a little vacation.

As he turned to retreat to the solitude of his cabin, a sudden impact collided with his chest. Sephiroth's reflexes took over and his hands reached out to steady the falling form. 

The woman blushed fiercely, stammering wildly as she stumbled over her own feet. "I am so, so sorry." She said in a panicked voice, refusing to look up. She was far too embarrassed by what just happened. Her heart was racing from the impact.

Sephiroth was mildly surprised to find himself in this situation. He looked down at her curiously, taking in her features. She was a beautiful woman, wearing a straw hat and a sun dress, with (H/l) (H/c) hair, and a lovely face. Despite her embarrassment, Sephiroth had to admit that he was intrigued.

(Y/n)'s face was still a blushing mess, as she managed to force another series of timid "I'm sorrys" out, still refusing to look up and meet his gaze.

Sephiroth chuckled softly, finding her shyness almost endearing. "It's quite alright," he said. "You need not apologize for something that was clearly an accident."

He released his grip on her and stepped back, taking a moment to regard her properly. She was a pretty little thing, and Sephiroth found himself feeling a bit amused by her reaction to him.

(Y/n) finally mustered up the courage to look up at him and when she did, her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. He was incredibly handsome. She swallowed hard, her heart beating even faster than it was before. "Ah.. right," she muttered sheepishly.

Sephiroth smirked at her reaction, enjoying her obvious awe. "You're awfully shy," he observed. "Does my presence scare you?" He leaned in closer to her, his bright cyan eyes studying her intently.

(Y/n)'s face got hotter. She took a small step back, her heart racing faster and faster with every second. "A-ah, no!" She stammered. "N-not at all!" she said, lying blatantly. Her nerves got the best of her, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

Sephiroth chuckled, amused by her stuttering. He could see the effect he was having on her, and it was rather amusing."Sorry, sorry. I'm just teasing." he chuckled, trying to hide a smirk behind his hand. He cleared his throat, before continuing. "I'm Sephiroth. And you are?"

She took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. But this man was having an overwhelming effect on her, and it was proving impossible for her to seem calm.

"(Y-(Y/n)." She said, her heart still thudding loudly in her chest. "My name is (Y/n)."

"(Y/n)," Sephiroth repeated, testing the sound of her name on his tongue. "A pretty name for a pretty woman."

He found her bashfulness to be rather charming, and he couldn't help but be slightly entertained by her reaction to him.

Her face flushed even hotter, if that was even possible, at his words, making her feel like she was on fire. "T-thank you..." she managed to mumble, completely flustered. She was having trouble even thinking straight, let alone speaking normally, with his intense gaze on her.

Sephiroth chuckled as he continued to watch her squirm. He reached out, gently lifting her chin with his finger so she looked directly at him."You know, you don't have to be so nervous around me," he said, his voice soft yet commanding. "I don't bite."

(Y/n)'s heart nearly exploded in her chest as his finger lifted her chin, making her look directly into his eyes. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to speak, but all she could manage was a choked "A-ah..."

Sephiroth's smirk widened at her continued nervousness. He found her adorable, and he began to wonder if this vacation wouldn't be so bad after all.

He let go of her chin, taking a step back to give her some space. "Are you free at the moment?" He asked.

(Y/n) finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief as he stepped back and gave her some space. Her heart rate slowly started to return to something resembling a normal pace. "U-um, yes." She said hesitantly, still trying to calm herself. "I don't have any plans at the moment."

Sephiroth nodded. "Good," he replied. "Walk with me. Please." He offered his arm to her, wanting her to take it.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, unsure if she could handle walking with him, considering how just a simple touch from him had nearly given her a heart attack. But there was something about him, something that drew her in, and with a deep breath, she slowly reached out and took his arm.

Sephiroth took her arm with a smirk, pulling her close to his side. He began to walk, his stride confident and sure. As they walked, he stole glances at her, finding her beautiful. "So tell me about yourself," He asked, curious to get to know this cute girl.

His question caught her off guard, and she struggled to collect her thoughts. "Me?" she managed to say. "I-I'm nothing special, really. Just a regular girl..."

Sephiroth chuckled at her response, finding her modesty endearing. "I doubt that," he said. "A girl as pretty as you is anything but regular." He looked down at her, a smirk on his face. "Try again."

Despite her embarrassment, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. His words, while flustering her, were also strangely comforting. She took a moment to respond, trying to find the right words.

"Well, I'm from Midgar, and I work as a nurse. Other than that, I enjoy reading books in my spare time." She said, her voice slightly more confident than before.

Sephiroth nodded as he listened to her. "A nurse, huh?" he said, his smirk lingering. "That's an admirable profession. It takes a special kind of person to care so much for others."

They continued walking, his arm still linked with hers, he found himself genuinely enjoying her company.

Suddenly (Y/n) visibly tensed, recognizing the familiar face of her ex-boyfriend John, glaring at her angrily from a distance. Panic began to rise in her chest, and she quickly pulled her hat down over her face.

Sephiroth noticed her sudden reaction. He followed her gaze and saw the man in the distance, looking at her with a glare. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, his voice low yet commanding.

"That man over there..." (Y/n) managed to whisper, keeping her voice low as to not draw his attention. "He... he's my ex-boyfriend."As she spoke, John continued to storm towards them, his face twisted in anger and jealousy.

Sephiroth's expression darkened as he observed the man approaching them. "I see..." He muttered, his hand subconsciously tightening into a fist. "Do you want me to handle him?"

(Y/n) bit her lip, torn between wanting to handle the situation herself and avoiding confrontation with John, who was now only a few feet away from them. But before she could make a decision, John's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Is this why you ran!?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes at (Y/n). "So you could run off to your new boy toy?!"

Sephiroth bristled at the man's words, his irritation growing by the second. He detested the man just by the way he spoke to her. "Boy toy?" Sephiroth repeated, his tone icy. "You'd be wise to watch your words." He took a step forward, positioning himself in front of (Y/n) to shield her from John.

John sneered, his gaze flicking between Sephiroth and (Y/n). "What, you think you're her knight in shining armor now?" he sneered. "You don't know her like I do. She's just playing hard to get."

(Y/n) opened her mouth to speak, John cut her off with a harsh glare. "Be quiet," he snapped, his voice laced with anger.

(Y/n) flinched at his tone, but remained silent, her eyes downcast.

Sephiroth's eyes flashed with anger as John continued to speak to her in that way. He took another step forward, standing directly in front of him now. "You will not talk to her that way," Sephiroth said, his tone cold and biting. He could feel his anger building, the urge to punch the man growing stronger with every word he said. But he knew he needed to stay cool.

John rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed by Sephiroth's intimidating stature. "Oh, please," he scoffed, looking at Sephiroth as if he was an annoyance. "What are you going to do about it, huh?" He tried to go around Sephiroth.

Sephiroth caught his wrist as he tried to go around, gripping it tightly. "I warned you once already," he said, his voice low and calm. "Don't go near her."

John yanked his arm back, trying to break free from Sephiroth's grip, but it was useless. He was no match for the other's strength. "You think you're so tough," he growled, his face turning red from anger. 

Sephiroth's smirk returned, his grip still tight on John's wrist. His calm demeanor was starting to slip, and his patience was wearing thin. "I don't think. I know," he said. "You'd be wise to remember that."

John's face twisted into an expression of pure anger at being talked to that way, and he struggled even harder to break free. "Let go of me, you bastard!" he growled.

(Y/n) watched the exchange with concern and worry. A part of her felt guilty for dragging Sephiroth into this, but another part of her was grateful for his protection.

Sephiroth's grip on John's wrist loosened, and as soon as he let go, John stumbled back, landing hard on his ass. John let out a pained grunt as he hit the ground, looking up at Sephiroth with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "You son of a bitch!" he sputtered, scrambling to his feet. Raising his fist, and aiming for Sephiroth, his eyes narrowing. "She's mine. The slut belongs to me!"

With a sickening crunch, Sephiroth's fist connected with John's face. John's head snapped back as he stumbled backwards.

 (Y/n)'s eyes widened as Sephiroth's fist connected with John's face. She gasped, surprised by the unexpected turn of events.

John slumped to the floor, unconscious, and (Y/n) couldn't believe what had just happened. She stared at Sephiroth with a hint of admiration in her gaze.

Sephiroth exhaled, his anger slowly fading and realization setting in. He looked down at his clenched fist, before taking a deep breath to compose himself.

He turned his gaze to (Y/n), who was staring at him wide-eyed. "I.. I'm sorry.. I don't know what came over me." he whispered.

(Y/n)'s heart was beating wildly, and she took a step forward, gently placing a hand on his arm. "You don't have to apologize," she said, her voice soft. "You... you stood up for me. Thank you."

Sephiroth felt her touch on his arm, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. He couldn't believe that he had let his emotions get the best of him like that, but he couldn't ignore the deep sense of satisfaction he felt, knowing that he had protected her.

"It was nothing," he said gruffly, trying to downplay his actions. "I just couldn't stand the way he was speaking to you."

(Y/n) smiled gently, her eyes bright with gratitude. "It wasn't nothing," she insisted quietly. "You stood up for me when no one else would, and I'm truly grateful."

A small blush formed on her cheeks as she continued speaking. "I... I've never had anyone do that for me before..."

Sephiroth's gaze softened even more, his expression becoming almost tender. Her words were tugging at something deep within him, something he didn't quite understand.

"You deserve better than him." He paused for a moment, his thoughts turning inward. "How about I take you out to dinner? To make up for punching your ex's face in.." he chuckled, his tone gentle and sheepish.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected him to ask her out, but the idea of it sent a flutter through her chest. She nodded, a smile forming on her lips.

"Yes, I'd love that," she said, barely above a whisper. She looked down shyly for a moment before adding, "Though, I hope you don't get into a fight every time we go out."

Sephiroth chuckled at her comment, his earlier anger starting to crumble away. "I make no promises." he said with a smirk. He looked at John laying on the floor, and with a grunt he dragged the unconscious John across the cruise ship's deck, before he dumped the man onto a lounge chair. He stepped back, surveying his handiwork.

Satisfied, he picked up John's sunglasses, and carefully placed the them on the man's face, to hide his closed eyes from view.

Anyone glancing over would simply assume the man was lost in a peaceful slumber, soaking up the warm sunlight.

Sephiroth allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk as he turned back to (Y/n), and took her hand, gently guiding her away from the unconscious body of her ex-boyfriend. "Come, let's go somewhere more pleasant."

"Okay..." (Y/n) allowed him to guide her, feeling her heart still racing in her chest from the events and from being so close to him.

The feeling of his hand holding hers was sending sparks of electricity through her body, and she couldn't help but steal glances at him.

She was going to marry this man someday.

(Requested by: Kimi)

[nabipumpum]

Hanni never believed in spontaneous romances—until she met you. Hanni realizes that this time, and for the first time, she doesn't want to run away.

1. What’s her name?

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Hanni tapped her feet impatiently on the floor as she looked around for any waiter to take her order, until she finally saw someone coming towards her.

The girl looked away until the person arrived at her table, raising her head when she was called.

“Would you like to order?” Hanni looked at the girl who had a small notepad in her hand and a small smile on her face, showing the dimples in her cheeks - you.

“Oh, yes, I would like a chocolate cake and a vanilla milkshake, please.” She watched as you wrote down the order, but she didn’t watch you write it down, she watched you specifically, carefully looking at every contour on your face.

“That’s all?” You looked at her again and the girl just nodded, afraid that you had noticed her look “I’ll bring it in a few minutes.” She nodded and smiled, when you left she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

Normally Hanni wouldn't be this nervous around a waitress anywhere, but for some reason she was, and for some reason she ignored it too.

-

The two girls sat at the table in the back of the café with Hanni, near the heater, getting comfortable as they took off their coats and gloves. The winter outside was punishing with cold winds, but inside the sweet smell of coffee and freshly baked cakes brought a cozy feeling.

"Why did you look like that when we arrived?" One of Hanni's friends, Minji, asked with a mischievous smile, resting her chin on her hand. "You seemed kind of... nervous."

"Me? It’s nothing." she answered too quickly, looking away to the window, where snowflakes were starting to fall more heavily.

"Hmm..." The other friend, Danielle, narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Hanni sighed and shook her head, deciding to change the subject. But before she could say anything, the sound of soft footsteps approached.

“Excuse me.” The familiar voice rang out, and the girl felt her heart race a little before she even looked up. It was you. You placed the plate and glass in front of her with that same friendly smile from before, your dimples showing again. “Here’s your order.”

Hanni cleared her throat, trying to look as normal as possible. “Thank you.”

Her friends exchanged suggestive glances, but Hanni pretended not to notice.

Before leaving, you glanced at the other two girls. “Would you like to order something too?”

Danielle and Minji quickly ordered coffee and some sweet rolls, but Hanni remained focused on the little details: the way you held your pen, the soft tone of your voice, the way your eyes sparkled under the warm light of the café.

When you walked away, Minji leaned forward and smiled mischievously. “So… What’s her name?”

Hanni blinked, feeling her face heat up.

She… didn’t know.

She had observed you so much, noticed so many details, but hadn’t asked the most basic thing.

She picked up her fork and absentmindedly stirred the cake, thinking.

Hanni stabbed a piece of cake with her fork, but instead of eating it, she kept picking at it, lost in thought. Minji and Danielle kept looking at her, clearly waiting for an answer.

“You don’t know, do you?” Danielle asked, holding back a smile.

Hanni sighed, dropping her fork on her plate. “No.”

Minji took a sip of the coffee the waitress had just served and smiled at the corner of her mouth. “That means you’ll have to ask.”

She frowned. “Why would I?”

“Because you want to know.” Danielle replied.

Minji nodded excitedly. “And because you kept staring at her like you were trying to memorize her entire face.”

Hanni rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny that the idea of ​​knowing her name made her curious. Something about her made Hanni want to notice more, to start a conversation, to want to... know more.

She sighed, picked up the glass of milkshake and took a long sip, trying to ignore her friends' gazes. But the universe seemed to conspire in their favor, because in the next second, you appeared next to the table again.

"Everything okay with the orders?" your voice sounded polite, but still with that gentle tone that Hanni was starting to find charming.

"Yes, everything is great." Minji answered before Hanni could even open her mouth.

It was then that Danielle, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, smiled at you. "By the way, what's your name?"

Hanni's eyes widened and she almost choked on her milkshake.

You blinked, a little surprised by the sudden question, but soon smiled again. "My name is..."

Hanni held her breath.

"... Y/n." you answered, your smile widening slightly when you noticed Hanni's surprised look.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes drifting back to the milkshake as if it were the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. Minji and Danielle exchanged knowing glances, both holding back smiles as they watched the scene.

“That’s beautiful.” Yunah commented casually, resting her chin on her hands. “It suits you.”

You laughed softly. “Thank you.” Your eyes widened They were quickly baked by Hanni before you added, “If you need anything else, just call.”

And then, as lightly as you had arrived, you walked away, heading back to the counter. Hanni watched you with her eyes without realizing it, her fingers absently twirling the straw of her milkshake.

Minji clicked her tongue. “You’re an idiot.”

Hanni blinked, waking up from her little trance. “What?”

Danielle laughed. “You clearly liked her.”

She snorted, picking up her fork again and stabbing the cake without much delicacy. “You guys jump to conclusions too quickly.”

Minji raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. Then why were you staring at her like that?”

“I didn’t.”

Danielle nudged her arm. “Love at first sight, maybe?”

“You guys are annoying.” Hanni mumbled, but her face was slightly flushed, which only made Minji and Dani laugh harder.

She snorted again, but a small smile played on her lips.

Maybe they were right. Maybe it was just curiosity… or maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something new.

In the following minutes, Hanni tried to ignore her friends, focusing on the cake that no longer looked so appetizing.

But it was impossible. Minji and Danielle kept exchanging glances and smiling suggestively, and, even worse, their gaze insisted on searching for you in the coffee.

You were behind the counter, organizing some orders, and seemed completely oblivious to the small internal turmoil Hanni was facing.

She hated herself a little for it. Since when had anyone made her so restless?

“You should go talk to her.” Minji suggested, stirring her own coffee as if it were a trivial matter.

Hanni laughed humorlessly. “And say what? ‘Hi, I’m Hanni and I apparently can’t stop staring at you’?”

Minji shrugged. “That would be an interesting start.”

Hanni mumbled something inaudible, but before she could argue further, she saw you approaching again. Her heart skipped an involuntary beat.

“Do you want anything else?” Her voice was gentle, as before, but now her eyes seemed to lock with the girl’s a little more.

She opened her mouth to answer, but Danielle was quicker. “Actually, yes.”

Hanni frowned, already sensing that this wasn’t going to end well.

“My friend here has something to ask you.” Danielle said, pointing directly at Hanni, who felt her stomach drop.

You raised your eyebrows slightly, waiting.

Hanni felt her cheeks burn. Minji was holding back a laugh. Dani looked about to explode with amusement.

She took a deep breath. Maybe it would be better to get this over with.

“You…” she began hesitantly, looking away quickly before gathering courage and looking at you. “Have you worked here for a long time?”

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to ask, but at least it was something.

You looked surprised for a second, but then smiled, as if you understood something she herself didn’t yet.

“It’s been a few months…” you answered. “Do you like here?”

She nodded quickly, taking the opportunity to divert the focus. “Yes, it’s cozy.”

“That’s good. Then I hope to see you here more often.”

You smiled again before walking away, leaving the girl completely speechless.

Minji and Danielle burst into giggles.

Hanni covered her face with her hands. “I hate you guys.”

But deep down, a small smile was beginning to form. Maybe coming back to the café more often wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

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