#happy stims when he notices a new leaf!!!

[s4geskies]

plant dad donnie is very important to me

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #he is very annoying about his plants #probably calls them by their scientific names #“im going out there are new Philodendron hastatums on sale” #once he leaves everyones flabbergasted #happy stims when he notices a new leaf!!! #(just like me 4real) #also!! he lets mikey paint on his terracotta pots #and sometimes he'll walk into his room with new pottery from his lil bro #mikey gets an excuse to paint and donnie gets new cool pots #its a win win really #i could go on and on about this #but i wont! #(i am bursting at the seams) #my art

[hermitmoss]

autistic gansey: the raven boys

literal thinking

All of the sources said that church watchers had to possess “the second sight” and Gansey barely possessed first sight before he put his contacts in.

It took Gansey a moment to realize that Ronan had made a joke, and by then, it was too late to laugh.

Gansey, misunderstanding, immediately asked her, “Why would you have to leave?”

“Coincidence?” Ronan asked. “I think not.”  It was meant to be sarcastic. Gansey had said I don’t believe in coincidences so often that he no longer needed to.

He said, “I don’t think that minor children are required to get gifts for their parents. I’m a dependent. That’s the definition of dependent, is it not?”

Several exasperated faces turned on Gansey. Maura said, “Well, he’s not going to just go away because you don’t want to deal with him.” “I didn’t say it was possible,” Gansey replied, not looking up from his splint. “I just said that it was what I would like.”

"His name wasn’t really Butternut, was it?" Gansey asked Adam in a low voice.

food sensitivities

Gansey said, “Tell me there’s no sauce on this burger.”  Dropping the strap from his teeth, Ronan scoffed. “Please.”  “No pickle, either,” Adam said

stimming

The area around him smelled strongly of mint from the leaf he chewed absently. 

He ran his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip, a habit he never seemed to notice and Adam never bothered to point out.

Gansey was crumpled on his bed, earbuds in, eyes closed. Even with the hearing gone in his left ear, Adam could hear the tinny sound of the music, whatever Gansey had played in order to keep himself company, to lure himself to sleep.

special interest

Gansey couldn’t resist talking about Glendower. He never could.

But Gansey never minded retelling the story. He’d related the events like they’d just happened, thrilled again

he was wondering if it was more than the ordinary curiosity people possessed when faced with Gansey and his obsessive accessories. He knew Gansey would find him overly suspicious, unnecessarily proprietary of a search Gansey was more than willing to share with most people.

“We talking about Gansey the third and his New Age obsession?” the secretary asked.

what he found was that Richard Gansey III was more obsessed with the ley line than he had ever been. Something about the entire research process seemed … frantic.  What is wrong with this kid? Whelk wondered

It was suddenly difficult not to be excited by the idea of explaining it all to her.

The easy way that he began the story, at once striding through grass and eyeing the EMF reader, let Blue know that he had told it many times before.

“If you’d just asked,” Gansey said, “I would’ve told you everything in there. I would’ve been happy to. It wasn’t a secret.”

masking and mirroring accents

Adam remembered finding him intimidating when he first met him. There were two Ganseys: the one who lived inside his skin, and the one Gansey put on in the morning when he slid his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos.  The former was troubled and passionate, with no discernible accent to Adam’s ears, and the latter bristled with latent power as he greeted people with the slippery, handsome accent of old Virginia money.

It was a default answer, she saw; he fell back onto his powerful politeness when he was taken by surprise. Also, he was still watching Adam, taking his cues from him as to how he should react to her. Adam nodded, once, briefly, and the mask slipped just a little more. Blue wondered if the President Cell Phone demeanor ever vanished completely when he was around his friends. Maybe the Gansey she’d seen in the churchyard was what lay beneath.

A few minutes later, when Gansey climbed into the front seat beside the pilot, she saw that he was grinning, effusive and earnest, incredibly excited to be going wherever they were going. It was nothing like his previous, polished demeanor.

There was something about the timbre of his voice that surprised Blue. It wasn’t until he spoke again she realized he was using the tone she’d heard him use with Adam.

This Gansey, this story-telling Gansey, was a different person altogether from any of the other versions of him she’d encountered. She couldn’t not listen. 

Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing. That second Gansey loomed inside him now, more than ever, and he didn’t like it.

some days Gansey wished that he could be him, because Adam was so very real and true in a way that Gansey couldn’t ever seem to be.

Gansey was first into the room, and he clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone there, because his features hadn’t been arranged at all to disguise his misery. When he saw Blue, he immediately managed to pull a cordial smile from somewhere. And it was so very convincing. She had seen his face just a second before, but even having seen his expression, it was hard to remind herself that the smile was false. Why a boy with a life as untroubled as Gansey’s would have needed to learn how to build such a swift and convincing false front of happiness was beyond her.

not understood/accidentally offensive/words coming out wrong

The Aglionby boy appeared puzzled for a long moment, and then realization dawned. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”

To his credit, the Aglionby boy didn’t speak right away. Instead, he thought for a moment and then he said, without heat, “You said you were working for living. I thought it’d be rude to not take that into account. I’m sorry you’re insulted. I see where you’re coming from, but I feel it’s a little unfair that you’re not doing the same for me.”

He hadn’t meant to be offensive but, in retrospect, it was possible he had been. This was going to eat at him all evening. He vowed, as he had a hundred times before, to consider his words better.

He’d managed to offend again, with no effort at all.

After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I’m afraid he’ll never really understand me."

I did tell him, right? I did say that we were to wait. It’s not that he didn’t understand me.

Words pressed against his mouth, begged to be said, but he kept silent.

But Gansey’s words had somehow become unwitting weapons, and he didn’t trust himself to not accidentally discharge them again. 

“My words are unerring tools of destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them.

specifically coming across as condescending

 She clearly hadn’t found him condescending.  Which was probably because she hadn’t heard him speak.  

“Sometimes he’s very condescending.”  Adam looked at the ground. “He doesn’t mean to be.

“Really?” Gansey asked, so innocently startled by this that it was clear that Adam had been right before — he hadn’t meant to be condescending.

“God, I’m sick of your condescension, Gansey,” Adam said. “Don’t try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don’t pretend you’re not trying to make me feel stupid.”  “This is the way I talk.

honesty

Adam suspected Gansey’s preference was because Ronan was earnest even if he was horrible, and with Gansey, honesty was golden.

“So I think we deserve the truth. Tell me you know something but you don’t want to help me, if that’s what’s going on, but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m going to need everyone to be straight with each other from now on. No more games. This isn’t just for Blue, either. All of us.”

He wasn’t sure how to speak without hurting Ronan. He couldn’t lie to him.

“age-inappropriate”

Gansey himself sat at an old desk with his back to them, gazing out an east-facing window and tapping a pen. His fat journal lay open near him, the pages fluttering with glued-in book passages and dark with notes. Adam was struck, as he occasionally was, by Gansey’s agelessness: an old man in a young body, or a young man in an old man’s life.

In his best professor voice

He sounded so old, Blue thought. So formal in comparison to the other boys he’d brought. There was something intensely discomfiting about him

once again Blue got the sense that he seemed older than the boys he’d brought with him.

There was something very ancient about him just then, with the tree arched over him and his eyelids rendered colorless in the shadows.

“You haven’t been a dependent since you were four. You went straight from kindergarten to old man with a studio apartment.” 

Malory had been the first one to take fifteen-year-old Gansey seriously, a favor for which Gansey would not soon stop being grateful for.

journal is comfort object

Gansey retreated to his bed, though he didn’t lie down. He reached for his journal, but it wasn’t there; he’d left it at Nino’s the night of the fight.

Whelk held his hand out for the journal. Gansey swallowed.  He asked, “Whelk — sir — are you sure this is the only way?” The journal weighted his hands. He didn’t need it. He knew everything in it.  But it was him. He was giving everything that he’d worked for away.  I will get a new one.

alexithymia

He thought this feeling inside him was shame.

Gansey tried several different ways to think of the situation, but there wasn’t any way he could paint it that made it hurt less. Something kept fracturing inside him.

Gansey couldn’t begin to explain the size of this awfulness. He only knew that it burst inside him, again and again, fresh every time he considered it. 

some complicated longing to settle an argument that waged deep inside himself.

overwhelming emotions

 More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it. 

 His bald expression held something new: not the raw delight of finding the ley line or the sly pleasure of teasing Blue. She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness.

He couldn’t stand it, all of this inside him.  In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.

“too serious”

Things seemed to weigh heavily enough on Gansey as it was.

His voice was peculiar. Formal and certain.

~awkward

He knocked fists with Adam. Coming from Gansey, the gesture was at once charming and self-conscious, a borrowed phrase of another language.

“I don’t know what else to say.”  “‘Sorry,’” she recommended.  “I said that already.”

clumsiness and disorganisation

It wasn’t that he meant to be careless — as Adam told him again and again, “Things cost money, Gansey” — it was just that he never seemed to realize the consequences of his actions until too late.

[Ronan] stopped the recorder and said, “You’re dripping gas on your pants, geezer.”

Gansey crashed onto the driver’s seat.

Then there were the notes, made with a half-dozen different pens and markers, but all in the same business-like hand. They circled and pointed and underlined very urgently. They made bulleted lists and eager exclamation points in the margins. They contradicted one another and referred to one another in third person. Lines became cross-hatching became doodles of mountains became squirrelly tire tracks behind fast-looking cars

Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed.

It looked like the home of a mad inventor or an obsessed scholar or a very messy explorer; after meeting Gansey, she was beginning to suspect that he was all of these things.

EfficiencyTM

Gansey derived a large part of his pleasure from meeting goals, and a large part of that large part was pleased by meeting goals efficiently. There was nothing more efficient than aiming for your destination as the crow flew.

RulesTM

They didn’t even have the authority to choose an alcoholic beverage. They couldn’t be deciding who deserved to live or die.

likes mechanical things (not counting the camaro because that’s just Too Many Quotes to compile)

He liked the little knobs and toggles and gauges of cockpits, and he liked the technological backwardness of the simple clasp seat belts.

not understanding/realizing things

Again, his face was somehow puzzled by the fact of their hand-holding.

It hadn’t occurred to Gansey that if the Camaro had been operating properly, fleeing would’ve been an option.

Gansey didn’t understand, but he nodded. 

And now Gansey was a king here, and he didn’t even know how to use it.

difficulty reading people/nonverbal cues not impacting him

Gansey suspected that none of them was being completely honest with their replies, but at least he’d told them what he wanted. Sometimes all he could hope for was getting it on the record.

One of Ronan’s eyebrows was raised, sharp as a razor.  Gansey strapped his journal closed. “That doesn’t work on me. 

He didn’t believe she was really offended; her face didn’t look like it had at Nino’s when they’d first met, and her ears were turning pink. He thought, possibly, he was getting a little better at not offending her

need for certainty

What Gansey needed out of life was facts, things he could write in his journal, things he could state twice and underline, no matter how improbable those facts were.

generally unusual ways of thinking

An astonished Roman historian commented, You look under rocks no one else thinks to pick up, slick.

general “strangeness”

Adam leaned toward her as if he was about to say something, but ultimately, he just shook his head, smiling, like Gansey was a joke that was too complicated to explain.

“ARE YOU LISTENING, GLENDOWER? I AM COMING TO FIND YOU!” Gansey’s voice, ebullient and ringing, echoed off the tree-covered slopes around the field. Adam and Blue found him standing in the middle of a clear, pale path, his arms stretched out and his head tilted back as he shouted into the air.

“You find it not normal?”  She could tell that he very much wanted her to say that he wasn’t normal, so she replied, “Oh, I’m sure it’s quite normal in some circles.”  He looked a little hurt, but most of his attention was on the meter, which showed two faint red lights. He remarked, “I’d like to be in those circles.

Gansey couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice. “‘Strange’ doesn’t help me. I don’t know what ‘strange’ means.”

He was himself, but he was something else, too — that something that Blue had first seen in him at the boys’ reading, that sense of otherness, of something more, seemed to radiate from that still portrait of Gansey enshrined in the dark tree.

not knowing other people don’t know things he knows

“Gansey, seriously,” Adam interrupted, to Blue’s relief. “Nobody knows what quiddity is.”

“Nobody knows who Ned Kelly is, either, Gansey.”

Born This Way

A small voice within Adam asked whether he would ever look this grand on the inside, or if it was something you had to be born into.

just. this. the way he knows to think this, the way he instinctively compares them to aliens that humans mistreat and that he logically shouldn’t love.

They were like aliens, Gansey thought. Aliens that we have treated very badly for a very long time. If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human.

#richard campbell gansey iii #the raven cycle #autism #* #my meta #meta #autistic headcanon #disability #trc #s4v

[saltysmoothie]

🌼, 🍄 - Serendipity. 🌻 , 🌿 - Veron. 🌸 - March

Oh boy this is gonna be a long one, strap right in

Serendipity

🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

Serendipity has a pretty alright relationship with her family, not perfect but it’s functional and her mom has made it clear that she cares about her daughter’s mental health and general wellbeing, her dad not quite as much but he’s not the worst. She’s got a younger brother as well named Kayden, and he’s cool, for as much as he is a little dweeb sometimes. She also has Ayana of course, who is the one person she can talk on a personal level to when it comes to her job as Good Karma. For now... let’s just say Serendipity wants to keep her identity of Good Karma away from her family, but with Ayana it’s completely fine to talk about both the goods and the bads of that job.

Ayana and Serendipity met in kind of an odd way, while Serendipity was on somewhat of a mission to check out a pretty haunted and weird area, and Ayana just happened to be hanging around there because she was also interested in the demons hanging there. After awhile, they just talked more to one another, and became better friends over time! As for the time frame they’re together in, it is ever changing in terms of their story but I can honestly say they stay friends for quite awhile, they meet about a month after Serendipity becomes Good Karma as well.

As for if they’d be more than friends well... Serendipity definitely harbors some unsaid feelings for Ayana. She’s never really had a friend who cared about her well-being or just her as a person, so it takes her such a long time to come to terms that she likes Ayana more than just a friend. She’s not 100% dense, she definitely ponders if her feelings are at all romantic sometimes, but it just takes her a few months, maybe a year or so to think about it, yknow? But Ayana is definitely the kind of partner she needs, romantic or not. Both because they bond so well, but also because she tends to be able to help her get down to a good level if she’s angry or anxious, and the same is pretty much mutual with how Serendipity helps Ayana, though in some separate ways. Theyre a good duo.

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

OhHOHOHOHOH. This is such a good question because Serendipity loves food, she loves baking, and cooking as well. Baking is the one thing she thinks she’s really good at, even if she fails at like making cookies she doesn’t get down on herself, she’s really glad that she now knows better, there might’ve been something she missed and she’s gonna do better next time. Plus the process of putting ingredient together is pretty relaxing for her. Cooking is good too, less relaxing but hey you can do whatever with it. Put a shit ton of salt and pepper in that baby and it’s good(now that I think about it. She probably has awful taste skfgsjfgsj).

But in all honesty her favorite foods are penne pasta spaghetti and lemon poppyseed muffins. She loses her shit over those two specific foods.

Veron

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

GOD THIS ONE IS HARD SJFGDH. For starters it hasn’t been too hard for Veron to perceive how Lynnet trusts them, like especially before they left they felt really confident in themselves because they knew when she had a moment to check up on them, she would hear them out on something even if it was really small. That just made them feel all the more better about making a presence among their crew, something they kinda struggled with before they joined the crew itself.

With the party, they were originally only a little more trusting of Quill since they were both sailors but they weren’t sure how Setac and Dedan would feel about them, but as time went by and the same thing happened with their crew, where they were just accepted in this ragtag group, and also just seeing how they fared on caring about each other, it just kinda makes them kinda emotional and happy that the group is as supportive of them as they are. If there was anything else in the world that reaches a similar feeling for them that brings happiness for them, it’s definitely the sound of rain or the ocean, or being able to just talk to other people about their interests.

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

Oh interesting one.... Veron has a particular way of trying to show they care without words, and that’s appealing to the better interests of the person they are trying to demonstrate their level of care to. It can either be through being quiet while being with them, showing them things they enjoy to hopefully gather a connection with them on interests, or fighting alongside them and trying to make sure the other person is safe and sound throughout it all(if the person they cares about gets attacked they’ll try to rush over if they can, etc.). And even though they aren’t that great with touch, they make it clear that if they care about someone they don’t mind giving a hug if needed, and the other person wants it enough. But more often than not, they reach out with words, the idea of reaching out without words is still a rather new one, and while they think they’ve got a long ways to go in terms of developing care without words, I think they’re doing pretty good right now, trying the things they do.

March

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

Oh gosh!! March has a lot of interests, where do I even start. One of the most obvious ones is anime, she grew up on Sailor Moon and a lot of Magical Girl related media’s as she grew up, and now it’s just become a large part of her life now that she has so many plushies from said media’s and she’ll just ramble about those things on and on to people like August.

She also likes a good relaxing sim type game, Animal Crossing New Leaf or Stardew Valley or something akin to those she’s probably packed at least 1000 hours each into each, she LOVES those games/type of game to death.

Another thing she appreciates baking a lot as well, it’s a very common activity for her and August to get together to make something like ice cream, cookies, cake, or whatever since she grew up in a household that had a lot of bakers recipes passed into the family, and since then its been the one thing she can share with her friends that she is always glad to share.

Collecting cool and pretty looking rocks is one other she’s always loved, bring her to a mueseum and she practically loses her mind in the gift shop. Stim toys are also really exciting to collect as well.

#my ocs #ask #asks #ask meme #oc meme #thank you for the ask squish ; w ; !!! #god I really did write several paragraphs on these topics #that’s okay rambling about my ocs I only do once in awhile #serendipity #serendipity donner #veron #veron pulstus #march #march roesner

[mostly-mundane-atla]

@ordinaryfruitpunch before I dive into this I want you to know i did that happy hand-flapping stim so aggressively I thought I would start flying.

@naiadbookworm , @dragomer , and @basilgarden also asked, so I'll mention them too.

So let's lay out some things we know about Jet.

He's driven. If he believes in his mission, such as getting himself and his friends safely out of a war zone, he will do what it takes to accomplish it.

Some time after his eponymous episode he and at least two (might have started out with more, but ended up with just two) of his followers left for Ba Sing Se, which according to the wiki seems quite a ways away on foot. They wanted to start over, and Jet specifically wanted to make ammends for a past of hurting and manipulating innocent people.

He's probably used to stealing food, or forging for it in a dense forest he's familiar with.

He mentions to Zuko that as outcasts they have to watch each other's backs "because no one else will," which suggests he wasn't able to rely on the generosity of strangers as Zuko had with Song and her mother or Lee's family.

Now we consider the fact that he has little in the way of funds or marketable skills. Stealth and combat might have gotten him a smuggling job, but it won't help in a refugee camp, where there's safety in numbers. Stealing from people who barely have anything themselves is a good way to get run out of the group or worse, not to mention it very much goes against his wish to turn over a new leaf. Theoritically he, Longshot, and Smellerbee could sell their armor and weapons, but they're still armed when we see them in "The Serpent's Pass," so that couldn't have been the case. We don't even know if Jet can read. (The missing Appa flyers didn't have a whole lot of writing so someone else could have read it to him, assuming it wasn't in the directive the Dai Li gave him and he wasn't just going by the formatting and picture.) All he really has is charm and acting skills, and I doubt he knows any monologues or ballads he can recite for spare change.

"But mostly-mundane," you might be thinking, "he can only supply if there is demand! Why would any other refugee barely better off than him pay for somthing as blatantly unnecessary as sex?" Well, there are a few reasons but it mainly boils down to this: sexual intimacy makes for an effective distraction. When times are dark and uncertain, it might give someone a sense of control over their life or make them feel less alone. It's a very human need to hold and be held, to touch and be touched; it's the first form of comfort we are ever given and when one is running for their life with a bunch of people they don't know, that can be hard to come by. And before this gets taken out of context, this isn't me saying sex workers are here to solve all your problems, nor am I advocating for sex as a psycological cure-all. People will take warmth and comfort and fleeting enjoyment where they can find it, even if they have to pay for it and risk getting diseases or infections.

So we've answered why he would and how he'd even be able to find custom, but who would they be? I don't think he'd target anyone in particular, aside from maybe the richest he could find. He'd probably steer clear of drunks for his own safety, but I don't think he'd put more thought into it than he absolutely had to. It's a job, and not a particularly pleasant one under his circumstances. Most of the time, he probably wouldn't be working for money, but for food and supplies, though he would have needed both eventually to buy three ferry tickets and forged documentation. Then again, that might be a private arrangement he had with the captain. We've seen soldiers leeching off of the civilians they were supposed to protect and conscript a child as punishment for resistance, so this doesn't seem at all unlikely to me.

I think he'd also be insistent, to the point of violence, that he was the only one of the group taking on those kinds of jobs. He's shown to have a very strict idea of what it means to be a leader, and while that does involve calling the shots and expecting near absolute loyalty, I'd bet it also means he'd take it upon himself to be the main provider and protector. He bears the brunt of the responsibilities because he led them into the situation. Smellerbee might have seen the toll it was taking on Jet and suggest that she go sell favors with him, since they might pay more for a girl, which he would turn down and say that he would never ask that of her. She might have tried to say it's alright, that she really wouldn't mind but he'd cut her off, asserting that he wouldn't be the reason for either her or Longshot getting passed from bed to bed and pretending to like it for table scraps and small coins. He got them into that mess, he'd tell them, so he'd be the one to worry about getting them out.

I don't know what Jet was planning to do once they got to Ba Sing Se. He said something about a new group of Freedom Fighters, suggesting he'd be involved in vigilante justice or at least being an informant to the authorities, but that doesn't always pay the bills. After being brainwashed by the Dai Li, he says he has a job over by a warehouse Appa was being kept in and that he's been living peacefully in the city, but that doesn't give us much (a factory worker, maybe? A minder in a textile mill?). I'd like to think Smellerbee and Longshot decided they'd help him find something reliable and decently paying. They'd seen him tired from being up all night and they probably saw bruises when he washed or noticed him trying to walk normal to hide how sore he was and they definitely noticed how much more agitated he was by touch. They wouldn't have wanted him to have to do it all again.

#sex work mention #response #analysis #freedom fighters #four separate people asked me about this #so this is officially my most requested topic so far!!! #i'm not used to people actually wanting to hear what I have to say to this degree #so thank you guys #you've made my whole year ^-^

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

Darkwing Duck Fanfic Chapter 2

Summary: “Hunter and Bushroot learn more about each other. But at    what cost?”

Warnings: Implied swearing, implied abuse, implied depression, self deprecation, implied self-harm, stim shaming, ask to tag.

Final word count: 4757

Tag list:(Feel free to ask to be added or removed!) @pidayforpi

Chapter two “Full disclosure, I am a monster!”

Hunter woke up early, almost sneaking out before remembering she hadn’t gotten the new passcode for the door yet. Hunter looked around for another exit, eventually sneaking out through a sewer grate. Getting into hiding, Hunter oriented herself, eventually pinpointing where she was in the city. Hunter remembered the city layout, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a list and her wallet. Taking a deep breath, Hunter walked off to the flower shop to replace the flowers she’d lost the night prior.

Hunter read the flower shop’s sign, boasting bright, colorful letters saying “Flora’s flowers and bouquets!”. Hunter took a deep breath, walking in, trying to occupy as little space as possible, despite the shop being relatively empty. “Can I help y’all?” A voice asked from behind Hunter.

“O-O-Oh, I-I-I-I-I uh….” Hunter stammered, fumbling for her list. “Flowers…?” Hunter asked sheepishly.

“We have those in excess, or else we wouldn’t be in business right now!” She joked.

“Duh! Sorry, don’t people well…” Hunter apologized.

“Oh, don’t worry hun, you’re fine!” She chuckled.

“I, uh, ooh…” Hunter stammered.

“I’m Flora, this little shop’s owner!” Flora said, holding her hand out.

Hunter drew back a bit, but eventually took her hand in a handshake. “I...H...n...Hunter…!” Hunter stammered.

“Hunter, huh? What’re ya lookin’ to pick?” Flora asked.

Hunter stumbled to look at her list, listing off a few flowers. “Do ya have any of those…?” Hunter asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, we have Roses, Chrysanthemums, Carnations, Hydrangeas, Daffodils, and gardenias!” Flora nodded.

“Where might they be…?” Hunter asked nervously.

“Right this way, Hunter!” Flora said, gesturing for her to follow.

“Okay..!” Hunter nodded, following sheepishly.

“Say, do ya happen to know Elmo Sputterspark by any chance?” Flora asked, grabbing the flowers Hunter requested.

Hunter froze, weighing her options. She couldn’t say she knew him through the fearsome five! “Uh….I...did, in like, High School.” Hunter stammered.

“I thought as much; ya have some of the same mannerisms as him!” Flora beamed. “You’re nervous around people, ya stumble over your words, ya fidget, I sorta figured you ‘n’ him knew each other!” Flora said, finishing up the bouquet, walking over to the counter, Hunter following behind, pulling her wallet out to pay for it.

“How much?” Hunter asked.

“$25.89, Hun!” Flora said.

Hunter nodded, paying for the flowers.

“Have a good day, hun!” Flora said, waving goodbye as Hunter left.

Hunter walked out, putting the flowers safely in her backpack and getting ready to head home. “I’m telling you, Gosalyn, flowers are going to make home seem more homey!” Drake sighed. Hunter moved out of the way, letting the three walk inside.

“Yeah, yeah-wait, Dad, did you see that?” Gosalyn asked, realizing that Hunter was outside.

“See what? You trying to get out of an errand?” Drake asked sarcastically.

“No, Dad! I saw one of the Fearsome Five outside the store!” Gosalyn protested.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice hon-WAIT WHAT?!?” Drake gasped.

“Yeah, I saw Hunter outside putting something in her backpack!” Gosalyn explained.

“No doubt stolen goods! Come on, crew! Home decor can wait!” Drake said, walking back out.

Hunter smiled softly, making sure the flowers were safe inside her backpack. “I hope he likes ‘em…! I picked ‘em out just for him!” Hunter smiled softly.

“I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!!” A voice announced, instantly filling Hunter with dread.

“Oh, come ON!!” Hunter groaned.

“I AM THE DANDELIONS YOU CAN’T REMOVE FROM THE GARDEN OF CRIME!!” Darkwing continued, Hunter rolling her eyes.

“I AM DARKWIIING DUCK!!” Darkwing finished.

“Look dude, I ain’t here to cause trouble; I’m JUST getting flowers for my friend.” Hunter scoffed.

“Getting in ILLEGAL ways, I’m certain!” Darkwing announced.

“Nah. Paid legally.” Hunter shrugged.

“As I-wait what?” Darkwing asked, confused.

“I. PAID. LEGALLY. FOR. THESE. FLOWERS. SIR.” Hunter annunciated.

Darkwing shook his head. “Surely not, villain!” Darkwing announced dramatically.

“Look, if ya want evidence, ask Flora inside, arright? I have somewhere to be.” Hunter scoffed.

“Exactly!” Darkwing said, grappling onto a nearby object and preparing to swing towards Hunter. “Behind bars!” Darkwing finished, swinging over and knocking Hunter over.

“Ow!!” Hunter yelped, holding her left arm as she landed on it. “Why you little-” Hunter started before getting decked in the face. “What the Helenium, Cactus?!?” Hunter snapped, cradling her arm.

“Did you just swear in PLANT NAMES?!” Darkwing gawked.

“What the FICUS did you just say to me, you Moluccella?!” Hunter snapped.

“Okay, this is just getting weird.” Darkwing groaned, pulling out his gas gun. “Suck gas, evildoer!” Darkwing announced, firing before Hunter could cover her beak.

“Hey!! Kaff kaff!!” Hunter coughed. Darkwing saw his opportunity, taking it and landing as many hits on her as he could.

“Your petal pilfering is past its prime, you puny problematic private parasite!” Darkwing smirked.

Hunter looked up, seeing that the flowers fell out of her backpack and were once again, destroyed in the skirmish. “Daisy it!!” Hunter growled. “I was SO CLOSE this time!!” Hunter lamented.

“You’re finished!” Darkwing announced.

“No…..I’m not.” Hunter growled. Hunter slowly got up, picking up her backpack and standing up straight before collapsing onto one knee. “FAGUS!!!” Hunter yelped, dropping her backpack and practically collapsing.

“Whoa, what happened there?” Launchpad asked, confused.

“I...Don’t know, LP.” Darkwing shrugged.

“I know what it is!” Gosalyn said, looking around in the Ratcatcher for something.

Hunter tried standing up again, collapsing again as pain shot through her leg. Hunter tensed up as Gosalyn walked over with a small suitcase. “What are you doing?” Hunter asked suspiciously.

Gosalyn held up the small suitcase showing that it was a first-aid kit. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, even if you’re a bad guy. When someone’s hurt, they’re hurt, and I highly doubt ya have health insurance.” Gosalyn explained.

Hunter remained cautious, Darkwing pulling Gosalyn away. “Gos, what are you doing? She’s a VILLAIN.” Darkwing lectured.

“Darkwing, she’s HURT! You’re supposed to help people!” Gosalyn scolded.

“UNless they are a VILLAIN. Which she IS.” Darkwing scolded.

Gosalyn looked between Darkwing and Hunter, noticing how badly Hunter’s leg looked. “Darkwing…” Gosalyn whined.

“I don’t wanna hear ANY OF IT, young lady, back into the Ratcatcher with you.” Darkwing warned.

Gosalyn huffed, stomping over to the Ratcatcher and plopping down inside it. Darkwing turned to look at Hunter. “As for you, VILLAIN, you’re coming with me.” Darkwing scowled.

Hunter shook her head, getting up and almost collapsing again, picking her backpack up and hobbling back to the hideout. “Come on, LP, let’s-” Darkwing started.

“DW, come on, she’s hurt! Let’s leave her be!” Launchpad said.

“What!? You too?!?” Darkwing bawked.

“Yeah, DW. Ya may be a hero, but a true hero knows when to leave things alone!” Launchpad advised.

Darkwing grumbled to himself, eventually giving in. “FINE! I’ll leave her alone!” Darkwing sighed heavily.

Hunter hobbled back to the hideout, despite the sheer pain shooting through her leg. Hunter sat down on a bench near the hideout, resting for a bit. “Fagus, my leg hurts…” Hunter whimpered. Hunter looked down at the water below her, tearing up at what she saw; a complete and utter FAILURE. She couldn’t even get FLOWERS properly. What made her think she could work alongside Bushroot and the others? Hunter rubbed the tears away, only for them to be replaced tenfold.

Before she knew it, she was sobbing heavily, not in the right mindset to pay attention to her surroundings if anyone was around or watching. Hunter hiccuped, blowing her beak in her hoodie. “Why am I such a failure…?!” Hunter hiccuped, beating herself up. Hunter sniffled, wiping her eyes again.

Hunter froze, hearing a familiar sound; tiny leaf-paws hitting the ground. She perked up slightly, but the happiness was gone as soon as she realized that Bushroot would most likely be disappointed in her for sneaking out again. Hunter felt something bump against her leg, but didn’t respond, she didn’t have enough energy to. Hunter heard something whine; she didn’t respond. She didn’t have enough energy to.

Hunter jumped slightly as she felt something plop into her lap, looking down at Spike’s head looking up at her. Hunter teared up, gently grabbing Spike and pulling him into a hug, sobbing heavily. “I’m so sorry-hee-hee, Spi-hi-hi-hiiike!!!” Hunter sobbed, hugging Spike tightly.

Spike whined, gently nuzzling Hunter in an attempt to make her feel better. Hunter sniffled, slowly starting to calm down. “Oh! Spike! You found her! Good work, boy!” Bushroot sighed in relief, speeding over.

Hunter hiccuped, standing up and struggling to make eye contact. After a few moments of silence, Hunter hugged Bushroot, apologizing heavily. “Hey now, it’s okay, I was just worried is all! You didn’t leave a note or anything!” Bushroot assured, patting her on the head. Hunter looked up, worry and sadness wrought all over her face.

“Y-You’re not mad at me…?” Hunter asked sadly.

“Oh goodness no! I typically never get mad! Especially over something as little as this!” Bushroot smiled softly.

“Bushy, I’m gonna cry again…!” Hunter chuckled dryly.

“That’s okay, get it all out!” Bushroot nodded, not getting that Hunter was sort of joking. Hunter chuckled, eventually breaking out laughing. “There’s that sound I like to hear!” Bushroot beamed.

Hunter went to stand alone, but collapsed back onto the bench, yelping in pain as pain shot through her leg. “OW!!!” Hunter yelped, tearing up again.

“O-O-O-O-O-Oh my goodness, are you alright?” Bushroot asked, rushing to her side.

“L-Leg…” Hunter whimpered, tears running down her face again.

“Wh-What happened?” Bushroot asked.

“Dorkwing….” Hunter grumbled, forcing herself back up and ignoring the pain shooting through her leg, not allowing herself to give up until she was somewhere safe.

“How did you even get out? I didn’t tell you the new door passcode, did I?” Bushroot asked, staying close by just in case Hunter collapsed again.

“There was a sewer grate a little whiles away that I snuck out through.” Hunter explained.

Bushroot sighed heavily. “I know you probably had a good reason, but I feel...a little...Hurt,” Hunter’s heart HURT hearing that. “That you sneak out so often.” Bushroot lamented. Bushroot stopped Hunter, making eye contact. “You can talk to me.” Bushroot started.

“Did I do something wrong?” Bushroot asked sadly. Hunter’s heart shattered.

“N-No-N-No! Not at all, Reggie! I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I promise!” Hunter stammered, breaking eye contact on accident as anxiety started settling in.

“.....I did, didn’t I…?” Bushroot asked, remembering that breaking eye contact typically meant the other party was lying.

Hunter stumbled for words, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t tell him why she snuck out, that would ruin the surprise for him! She didn’t wanna do that! “A-Any plans for the day, B-Bushroot?” Hunter asked sheepishly.

“No, not really. I’m...not really feeling up to it today.” Bushroot sighed.

“A-Are ya sure…?” Hunter asked gently.

“Yeah, pretty sure.” Bushroot said, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe ya just need to get out there…!” Hunter said, smiling nervously.

“Hunter. NO.” Bushroot warned, frowning slightly.

“I mean, it always makes me feel better…!” Hunter urged gently.

“N. O. NO.” Bushroot warned darkly.

Hunter, still ignoring the pain in her leg, tried pushing Bushroot away from the hideout. “C-Come on, bud…!” Hunter urged.

“Hunter, NO. Why are you being so WEIRD recently?!” Bushroot asked.

“I-I just wanna help ya out, Bushroot! You help me out, I wanna return the favor!” Hunter explained.

“Hunter, stop it.” Bushroot grumbled.

“Come on, Bushroot, one crime and you’ll be back in a good mood…!” Hunter said sadly.

“Hunter, I said NO. Give it a rest.” Bushroot warned.

“Bushroot, please…!” Hunter whimpered.

“Hunter, something’s going on, and I, quite frankly, want to know WHAT. Now SPILL.” Bushroot growled.

Hunter whimpered, biting the bullet and pulling the long past dead flowers out of her backpack. “............Dipwing screwed it up...AGAIN.” Hunter whimpered.

Bushroot sighed, running his hands through his petals. “You went off to grab flowers AGAIN?” Bushroot asked, trying to stay calm.

Hunter grimaced, tensing up. “I know it’s stupid and I KNOW I should give up on it, but it’s so important to me that I do it and….” Hunter took a deep breath, calming down. “And...I wanna prove that I can get tasks done, if I put myself to them.” Hunter finished, making eye contact again.

Bushroot froze, all past thoughts of anger and frustration gone and replaced with understanding and sympathy. “Why don’t you ask me for them?” Bushroot asked.

Hunter shook her head. “No, I wanna show I can perform simple tasks like going to the flower shop to buy flowers.” Hunter declined.

Bushroot hummed, holding his chin in thought. “I can see how I’m feeling later, but I’m not promising anything.” Bushroot said.

“Gotcha, Bushroot!” Hunter nodded.

“Good. And Hunter?” Bushroot asked.

“Yeah, Bushroot?” Hunter asked.

“Go back to calling me Reggie, it feels weird hearing you call me Bushroot.” Bushroot said, laughing gently.

Hunter sighed in relief. “Okay, Reggie.” Hunter said, smiling tiredly. Bushroot ruffled Hunter’s feathers, earning a squeak of protest as Hunter tried swatting his hand away.

“Sorry if I got a little heated there, it just hurts is all…” Bushroot apologized. Bushroot could have sworn he saw Hunter’s smile drop for a moment, but when he looked again, she was still smiling. Weird.

(Later, in a hidden room in the hideout.)

Hunter shoved herself in a corner, Anxiety, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and self hatred all hitting at once in an all-out-assault on her psyche. If this were any other occasion, she would have asked Bushroot for his help, but that’s any other occasion. Bushroot was the reason Hunter’s psyche was being destroyed by itself.

Hunter hadn’t had an anxiety attack this bad in ages, why was it so bad now? She wanted to ask for help, but she’d already inconvenienced Bushroot once, she didn’t want to do it again. Even if she was on the brink of blacking out.

Hunter tried stilling her breathing, but only made her hyperventilating worse, Hunter falling forward onto her hands and knees, gasping desperately for breath. Hunter mentally screamed at herself to call out for Bushroot, but nothing more than choked breathes were heard.

Tears rolled down Hunter’s face. Why’d she have to be so selfish?! Why couldn’t she just let it go?! Hunter coughed and wheezed as she tried to calm down, but her breathing didn’t improve. She noticed her vision start to go blurry and her panic only furthered.

After a while, Hunter’s arms and legs gave out and she fell to the floor, blacked out cold.

(Elsewhere.)

Spike looked around the room, whining as he noticed Hunter wasn’t in the room with them. “What’s the matter, Spike?” Bushroot asked, looking over from his experiment. Spike whined, gesturing that Hunter wasn’t in the room.

“Hmm...that is odd and concerning…” Bushroot hummed. Spike whined, worried about her disappearance. “She probably isn’t outside...Spike, go look around for her, would you?” Bushroot asked. Spike nodded, setting off to find Hunter.

(With Spike)

Spike sniffed around, picking up Hunter’s scent quickly. Picking up Hunter’s scent, Spike sped up, following the scent to a dark, hidden room, whining before going in and finding Hunter blacked out.

(With Bushroot)

Bushroot perked up at hearing a far off barking, but shrugged it off as Spike finding a butterfly or something. “Spike, stay focused!” Bushroot scolded.

The barks kept going, but seemed more panicked than distracted. “Spike, calm down!” Bushroot called. Bushroot grew worried as the barks were more frantic and set everything he was holding down to go run over to Spike to see what the problem was.

“Spike, what’s happened that’s causing you to cause such a ruckus?” Bushroot asked, walking in. As soon as Bushroot saw what was in the room, he froze dead in his tracks. He held onto the doorframe to remain standing, shock trailing through his cells.

“Sp...Sp...Spike…? What happened…?” Bushroot asked, legs slowly moving him closer. Spike whined, trying to wake Hunter up, but not succeeding. Bushroot collapsed next to Hunter, taking her pulse. He sighed in relief; something was still there.

Bushroot assessed the situation, deducting that she just had a really bad Anxiety attack and passed out due to lack of oxygen.  Bushroot whistled for some of his smaller trees to come into the room so Hunter could regain oxygen quickly.

After a while, Hunter eventually shifted, Bushroot feeling hope well up in his chest. Thank goodness she was okay. “Mm…” Hunter groaned, rubbing the extra sleep from her eyes.

“You’re okay!” Bushroot exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Hunter in a tight squeeze of a hug. Hunter wheezed as the air was squeezed out of her, but quickly gained it back.

“R-Reggie…?” Hunter peeped.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? Food? Backpack? Spike? Flowers? Notebook?” Bushroot asked, worried that his friend may have gotten hurt.

Hunter was astonished; after everything, he still wanted to be friends with her? “Reggie...I….” Hunter stammered. Hunter rubbed her head where she landed when she fell. “Ow…” Hunter grimaced.

“Hmm...looks like it’s bruised...Hold on, I think I have some Arnica around here somewhere…” Bushroot hummed. As Bushroot thought, an Arnica bush hopped up to him. “Oh! Why, thank you!” Bushroot smiled at the bush, making an ointment for the bruise.

“Wow...You’re a real plant whisperer…” Hunter gawked. Bushroot gave Hunter a look like ‘bud, really?’

“I should hope so,” Bushroot started, rubbing some of the concoction on the bruise. “I AM a plant duck hybrid after all.” Bushroot finished, wrapping the bruise so it could be covered until it was fully gone. “There we go! Should clear up in a fairly good time frame!” Bushroot smiled gently.

Hunter smiled back, saying a silent thank you. “Just one question though…” Bushroot started, Hunter’s heart dropping. “I know you approved us being Best Friends Forever and all, but…” Bushroot sighed.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Bushroot asked.

Hunter grimaced. “Before you say ‘I didn’t wanna burden you, I’ve already bothered you once today’, I don’t care about that. We’re Best Friends Forever...Best Friends help each other out more than once a day. Be as blunt as you need for explanation.” Bushroot said sternly.

“I…...I felt super guilty about earlier today…” Hunter admitted.

“What? Why?” Bushroot asked, gobsmacked.

“Because….B...Because...I hurt you...Not physically, but...emotionally...That’s not a thing Best Friends Forevers do…” Hunter frowned.

“Hunter..” Bushroot gawked.

“When you said I hurt you, I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I felt so horrible…! I-I-I-I felt like I was the worst person on earth…! I felt like scum…! I felt less than scum, I felt like a worthless fungal parasite…!” Hunter frowned.

Bushroot frowned, sympathy washing over him. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I felt SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO bad afterwards that I holed up here to deal with my whole Anxiety attack cause I didn’t wanna bug you again…!” Hunter rambled. Hunter continued rambling, only to stop when Bushroot put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him.

“Hunter Artemis Puddles, you are one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. I understand not wanting to bother me, really, I do! But when it’s something this horrible, it’s not a bother at all. We’re Best Friends Forever. We’re here for each other. Through thick and thin, through hardships big and small. We can be there for each other through it all.” Bushroot said seriously.

“R...Really…?” Hunter asked.

Bushroot nodded. “Hm...You mentioned your memory works better with song...How about a little melody to remember?” Bushroot asked.

“Nah, dude, I can’t sing!” Hunter said shyly.

“Well, I can, if you would like.” Bushroot informed.

“O….Okay…!” Hunter nodded. Bushroot took a deep breath, already thinking up lyrics.

“Best Friends Forever, bothersome never...shoulder to cry on, here together to get by on...Thick and thin, hardships big, hardships small, together we can make it through it all…~!” Bushroot hummed.

Hunter hummed along, thinking up a beat. “Hmm…” Hunter hummed. Bushroot raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Best Friends Forever, you’re my first one ever...All alone I feel dry as bone, but with you I feel brand new….~!” Hunter added.

“Wowza, you’re good at this!” Bushroot smiled.

“Oh, no, I’m-I’m really not!” Hunter blushed.

“I think it’s a lovely little melody!” Bushroot nodded.

“Yeah, short, sweet, and to the point!” Hunter nodded.

“You know, you said you can’t sing, but you sang pretty well!” Bushroot complemented.

Hunter chuckled shyly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Aww...You too..!” Hunter chortled.

Bushroot chuckled, mood lighting up.

Hours passed and the two eventually decided to spend the night just planning instead of doing stuff.

“By the way, Hunter,” Bushroot started, pausing the planning. “Do you know what those flowers you picked up meant?” Bushroot asked.

Hunter froze. “They...look...Pretty…?” Hunter lied.

Bushroot chuckled. “No, no, no! They have meaning! Chrysanthemums symbolize happiness, longevity, joy, and loyalty, light red Carnations symbolize admiration, white Gardenias symbolize purity and gentleness, Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, and purple hydrangeas symbolize a desire to deeply understand someone!” Bushroot explained.

“O-Oh…! I just thought they looked pretty..!” Hunter lied.

“Oh, they do! And then the roses you picked yesterday, dark pink roses, symbolize thankfulness for appreciation!” Bushroot added.

“Huh…” Hunter hummed, despite knowing this already.

“Oh! Oh, oh, oh! If you wanna show someone admiration, just give them a good old fashioned Camellia! Those babies mean love, affection AND admiration!” Bushroot rambled.

“Really?” Hunter gasped, humoring the other duck, seeing as he listened to her for a good portion of the day.

“Oh yes, yes, yes! And not to mention they’re beautiful, too!” Bushroot nodded eagerly.

Hunter smiled softly, listening to him infodump about plants and flowers and the symbolism some of them had. “What’s your favorite flower, Hunter?” Bushroot asked.

Hunter was taken back by the sudden question. Someone wanted to know more about her? Normally, she never was able to hold a conversation! “Well, uh, I, uh...I like violets and bluebells…” Hunter said shyly.

“Ah! Some good picks!” Bushroot beamed. “Those two have WONDERFUL meanings!” Bushroot nodded.

“What do they mean?” Hunter asked.

“Well, Violets symbolize truth and loyalty while Bluebells symbolize gratitude and humanity! But, they could ALSO symbolize constancy and everlasting love!” Bushroot informed eagerly.

Hunter’s eyes sparkled like sapphires left out in the rain as the sun came out, sunlight bouncing around on each cut. “Whoa…” Hunter gawked.

“Sorry, have I been rambling too much?” Bushroot asked nervously. Hunter shook her head.

“No, no, no! This is interesting to me! You’re WAAAY better than my english teacher was with teaching me this stuff!” Hunter explained.

“Oh, really?” Bushroot asked, surprised.

“Yeah! Like, he was nice ‘n’ all, but nothing he taught me stuck with me for dirt!” Hunter chuckled.

“Oh my!” Bushroot smiled softly. “Would...Would you mind if I rambled for a little bit longer? Sorry, it’s just I never really get to talk to anyone about this stuff and I don’t know what to do with the information and-” Bushroot worried.

“Reginald, I’d love to hear you ramble more about plants! You listened to me, why don’t I do the same?” Hunter asked gently.

Bushroot’s eyes sparkled with joy, excited that he could talk about plants as much as he wanted-and someone would LISTEN to him! “Well, if you��re so sure…!” Bushroot grinned, vibrating in excitement.

Hunter smiled softly as Bushroot launched into an excited ramble about plants, flora, whatever plant crossed his mind. Hunter felt something she hadn’t felt in ages. She felt...Genuinely happy. And all it took was two days of failure, an Anxiety, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and Panic attack, a leg injury, a mutant-no, a duck, and a cute venus flytrap that had a good sense of smell.

But even so...Something was still in the back of her mind. Something was telling her that she didn’t deserve this, that she was too horrible to be happy. Others were in worse straits than her, why should SHE be happy?

Hunter snapped back to reality, paying attention to Bushroot again, hoping she didn’t miss much. Hunter smiled again, glad that Bushroot didn’t notice she spaced out for a bit there. “Wow, that felt...Amazing!!” Bushroot squealed, hopping in place.

Hunter chuckled, a genuine smile crossing her face. “Oh! Look at that! You’re happy too!” Bushroot beamed.

Hunter froze a moment, realizing that he was right. She felt her face for a moment. He...He was right. The smile...It wasn’t forced! It was a real smile! She felt a rush of energy and-”no, stop, stop flapping, that’s weird, people are going to laugh at you.” Hunter’s mind screamed.

Hunter froze, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets and mumbling out a ‘sorry’.

“What for? That was adorable!” Bushroot smiled.

Hunter had to do a double take. “Really? It’s not...Weird?” Hunter asked.

“No, of course not! If anything, it adds to my understanding of you!” Bushroot said.

Hunter chuckled dryly. “C-Can I…?” Hunter trailed off. Bushroot nodded.

“Yes indeedy!” Bushroot nodded.

Hunter squealed, flapping to get the extra stim energy out. Eventually, Hunter got it all out and her smile was wider than before.

“Aw...You’re happy! And you thought today was a bad day!” Bushroot joked.

Hunter didn’t know why, she didn’t know how, but she just...Burst out laughing. She had no reason to, she just...felt like it. “Why do I feel so fuzzy?” Hunter laughed.

“Oh! You’d be feeling ‘Euphoria’!” Bushroot explained.

“Euphowhat?” Hunter asked.

“Euphoria! It’s a state of feeling intense excitement or joy!” Bushroot explained.

“Huh?” Hunter asked, confused.

“Basically, you feel really happy!” Bushroot simplified.

Hunter squeaked, eyes brighter than earlier. “It’s so weird how you make me feel so...so..s-so…” Hunter stammered.

“At peace? Happy?” Bushroot asked.

“Yeah! Why is that?” Hunter asked.

“Well, it could be that the excess of trees is helping to clear your mind and make it easier for endorphins to pass into your mind!” Bushroot suggested.

“What…?” Hunter trailed off.

“The extra air is making you think clearly, so you are able to feel happiness easier!” Bushroot explained.

“Oooh!” Hunter drawled. “I get it!” Hunter nodded.

Bushroot chuckled, finding the sudden mood shift from Hunter adorable. “Why don’t I see ya this happy often?” Bushroot asked innocently.

Hunter hid a flinch, returning to how she was acting. “Oh, I dunno! Maybe I’m just having a good day or something!” Hunter grinned. Bushroot nodded, unaware of the reaction Hunter had.

“You should Smile more.” Hunter’s brain lectured. “Frowning brings everyone down.” Her brain added. “Why aren’t you happy more often?” It asked.

Hunter kept up the appearance despite wanting to break down then and there.

The two talked a little longer, Bushroot eventually heading off to get some rest, leaving Hunter alone. Hunter sighed, not quite feeling tired yet, so she headed out to stargaze for a bit.

Hunter sat outside, despite the cold temperature, watching the stars intently. She felt like she was greeting an old friend, since the stars were practically all she had to talk to aside from her stuffed animals as a kid. She knew the constellations by heart, as that was the only thing she learned in school aside from art stuff that interested her.

As Hunter stargazed, she started spacing out and thinking about things. How large was the universe? How many people were in it? How FEW people were in it? Are they living in a pocket dimension? Is existence meaningless? She shook herself out of it; she didn’t need to be thinking about that right now. She already went down that road once earlier, and it still hurt a little bit, thanks to the cold.

Hunter sighed in relief, staring up at the night sky, taking it all in. It was beautiful, almost like a painting. As she scanned the horizon, her vision settled on the docks and the water surrounding it. She wondered how long she could be down there before she had to give up. She shook it off again.

Eventually, she started to feel the exhaustion of the day start to hit and she slowly started drifting off to sleep, too tired to walk back inside. She let her eyes shut and her body relaxed.

She felt slightly warmer, but didn’t bother to check why, at least she was warm.

Then she heard a Splash.

#My writing #Darkwing Duck Bushroot #Darkwing Duck Ocs #My Ocs #Hunter Puddles #Flora Peonia #Darkwing Duck Drake Mallard #Darkwing Duck #darkwing duck gosalyn #Darkwing Duck Launchpad #Ask To Tag #Tw: Implied swearing #Tw: Implied abuse #Tw: Implied depression #Tw: Self deprecation #Tw: Implied self harm #Tw: Stim shaming #sorta #Darkwing Duck Spike

[broken-clover]

ACC Day 15- Stim Toys

I’m actually really happy with how this one came out! So it kinda ended up being long again. But it was a good time all the while!

Back into Blazblue with Carl Clover, plus a little of Kokonoe and Bang. 

Content warning for self-harming stims and hand trauma. 

One of Carl’s earliest memories as a child was him bashing his hands against a wall over and over again, screaming as loud as his little lungs allowed him to.

It wasn’t a perfect recollection. He must have been upset over something, but he didn’t know what it was anymore. He did know that he hadn’t been in any sort of real danger. It was one of his first meltdowns, and little him had decided for whatever reason that the stress in his body could only be channeled by beating his hands until they bruised- or at least until Ada intervened and pulled him away.

Carl knew it wasn’t a good thing to do, but he didn’t know how to properly vent his frustration. The screaming was a habit quickly quashed, enough disappointed looks from Relius more-or-less scared it right out of him. In the end, though, that may have only made it worse, leaving him to hit even harder when he couldn’t make noise to go with it.

The older he got, the more he started to understand the things that upset him. Itchy fabrics. Stiff shoes. Touches from unfamiliar people. Every time he encountered something uncomfortable, it made him want to smack against things. Ada and Ignis were quick to help him as soon as they found out, helping him find comfy clothing that didn’t make him overstimulated and being careful to let him unwind in a quiet place when he started getting upset.

No matter what they tried, though, Carl never seemed to be able to do away with the bad stims. When he tried to replace whacking his hands against things, he only ended up biting his nails, eventually doing it more and more until his fingers hurt and the corners bled. When Ignis bandaged his fingertips so he couldn’t bite them, he moved down and started chewing on his wrists. After that, Relius had attempted to step in, this time offering gloves like the ones he wore to avoid injuring any part of them.

Those had worked, to an extent. He couldn’t bite through the fabric, though it didn’t stop him from trying. More often than not, he was left with damp spots on his gloves from where he tried biting, which was sensory hell in its own form. Carl just had the instinct to bite things whenever he felt stress, whether it was his own hands, sleeves, pencils, pens, or anything he could think of. The longer the habit stuck around, the more embarrassed he felt by it. It made him feel childish.

It was bad enough that as soon as he enrolled in the military academy, he refused to wear the gloves as much as he could manage. He was sure that he could just force himself to stop. It was another plan made with too much confidence. When he forced himself not to do it in public, it just made him stim harder in private, gnawing on the end of his tie and the uniform’s sleeves. He could never come up with a good explanation on the frequent mendings he needed for his torn-up seams. Carl was too mortified to admit to anything.

Nobody questioned when he started wearing the gloves again. Maybe it suited his reputation as the precocious little genius. Whatever made it easier to get through the day.

Ada had always seemed insistent that she’d be able to find some way to help him, in some form or another. Carl wasn’t sure what exactly she’d had in mind, but he’d found himself with bigger problems to deal with. It seemed far more important to find where their father had gone off to in order to try and find a way to undo what he had done to Ada than to focus on anything else.

He supposed there were still some silver linings, even for as disastrous as his life had gotten. There were still safe places for him to go, and a few adults that he trusted enough to accept their help. Miss Litchi was kind and loving, reminding him so much of his mother with how she worried over him and made him feel cared for. Mr. Bang was rather bombastic and loud, but Carl had to admire his commitment to doing good for the people and making sure he had some sort of guidance.

Even if Bang could be a bit overbearing, Carl had no trouble saying that he felt rather welcome in Ronin-Gai. The people there were kind, and their leader was more than happy to offer a warm bed and food for however long he wanted to stay before heading out. At first, Carl had been a bit wary of the kindness, along with the friendly relationship that Bang had seemed so insistent on for reasons he didn’t understand. He’d presumed some deception or ill intent, but really, Bang seemed to notice a similarity between the two of them, even if he couldn’t name it.

Carl had noticed something like that. Which was strange, since they seemed like very different people, in his opinion. There was just something about the way they both interacted with people, how they presented themselves, how they could get so passionate about different things. He’d even caught Bang gently toying around with the scarf he always wore, petting the soft material in the same way Carl liked to with his favorite clothes as a little kid.

For whatever it was, the boy would admit it did feel a little better knowing that his odd mannerisms weren’t something exclusive to him. Though he’d never seen the older man biting down on his hands before in the same way he did. That was still a conundrum.

For once, Carl almost found himself longing for the quiet district that he had been staying in for the past few days. After he’d tracked Relius down once more and tried to subdue him, he’d not only failed, but Ada had been caught in a small explosion. She’d made it out relatively unharmed, with some scratches and dents but not looking worse for wear, but Carl wasn’t willing to take off again without making absolutely sure. They’d finally managed to contact Kokonoe, seeing as she was one of the few people who could do a half-decent job at repairing a Nox Nyctores if need be, and Carl had taken off with Ada out of Ronin-Gai as soon as the professor agreed.

Ronin-Gai, at least, felt rather warm and inviting, even if it was unfamiliar. He wasn’t sure what to focus on while he waited on a bench in Kokonoe’s office. She’d taken Ada and vanished into her lab for what felt like hours, with not a single sign of her since. His eyes flicked restlessly over the messy stacks of paper, half-built machinery, and empty takeout containers. For such a brilliant woman, her office was a mess. Carl was at least happy that the fluorescent lights didn’t have an annoying buzz to them like the ones at the academy did.

He’d tried not to bite on his hands, but there was a point when worrying about Ada and having no other way to vent it just got too much for him to handle. Maybe once this was over, he could play some chess or listen to music. That always helped clear his head.

The office door creaked open, making the boy jump. “P-Professor?”

“Relax, it’s just me.” Hardly glancing in his direction, Kokonoe crossed the room and went to her desk, grabbing a few papers and leafing through a folder. Carl had no idea how she knew where things were, but she seemed to have no trouble finding what she was looking for.

When she stood back up, her yellow eyes finally fell on him. “Hey, short stuff, c’mere a sec.”

“Huh?” Hesitantly, he hopped off the bench and approached the professor. “Is something wrong with my sister?”

“Nah, just got something for ya. Here, catch.”

He managed to catch the odd object that Kokonoe tossed at him. It appeared to be a little machine cog, made out of a slightly rubbery material and hanging on a string. “...A necklace?”

“Yeah, and a chewing stim. Made it out of the same stuff they use for cooking supplies. That scruffy idiot mentioned you tend to chew on stuff when you’re stressed.”

Carl felt himself going pink. If Bang was noticing it, than it must have been way too obvious. Had anyone else seen him doing it in public?

“No need to get all worked up, kid. Of all things to feel bad about, that’s definitely not the right one.” Kokonoe’s expression was hard to read. “People won’t even notice that if you wear it. If you get stressed out, just chew on that instead. It’s meant to be chewed on, so it doesn’t break easy.”

He stared at the item, giving it a little bend. “Have you done this before…?”

“Tao likes having something in her mouth most of the time, so I whipped a few up for her way back when.” That seemed to get the scientist to relax a little, slouching in her chair with a grin. “But hers are cat faces and fish. I thought the gear fit you better.”

“Oh.” After a moment of thought, his head snapped up. “Wait, so I’m not the only one who does this?”

Kokonoe balked. “Pfft, are you kidding me? Lots of people do it. Part of the reason I always have silvervine candy on hand.” At that, she pulled a lollipop out of her sleeve. “Not always chewing on stuff, either. I know Celica likes weaving to keep her hands busy, and Bang always has that damn scarf with him to mess around with.”

Carl couldn’t put into words how relieving that was to hear. For the longest time, it felt like there had to be something wrong with him. The thought of not being the only one made him feel much less weird, and a bit less alone than he’d thought.

“Oh, yeah, and Nirvana’s all patched up. No real damage, just buffed out the scratches. You’re free to head out whenever.”

He followed behind the woman eagerly, running his fingers along the curves of the cog while they walked to the lab. Ada was standing stoic, patched up and cleaned until she was almost shining.

“Sis!” He ran up to her and threw his arms around for a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Ada tilted her head slightly, raising a hand to gently nudge the new accessory her brother was wearing.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” Carl grinned. “Professor Kokonoe gave it to me so I won’t bite my hands. You want to go back now?”

The doll’s mask was static and unmoving, but he could tell she was smiling anyway.

If he was taking a couple of days to lay low, Carl decided that he could still get something done. He was busy at work, sprawled out on the floor and drafting blueprints for a new automaton model. For once, he had both hands free, one for sketching and the other to hold the paper down in place. He chewed pensively on Kokone’s necklace, feeling the tough material press back as he bit down. It was a satisfying sensation, and he liked it a lot better.

“What do you think, sis?” He hoisted up one of his papers. “Not sure if it’ll be too top-heavy.”

Ada sat nearby. She raised a hand and made a little gesture.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe I can put more weight on the back end so it doesn’t tip over?”

While they spoke, the screen door to the room slid open. “Young hero? Is everything alright?”

“Hello, Mr. Bang.” Carl offered the man a polite nod as he entered. “Ada and I are fine. I’m just working on a new robot.”

“A robot, you say?” In a flash, Bang was on the floor, sitting across from him. “I’d love to hear more!”

He was taken a bit off-guard by the man’s sudden movements, but it seemed normal for Bang. “Are you sure? It’s a little complicated.” Truthfully, Carl loved robots, and all things mechanical, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to go on a long diatribe if it was just going to bore everyone.

“Absolutely! You seem to like them quite a lot. No need to hesitate around me!”

His hands idled over the cog, before moving to grab a pencil. “Okay. Well, I guess I can start with explaining the parts of the chassis…”

The world wasn’t always a very nice place. That was something Carl knew well. But maybe it wasn’t all bad, either.

#autistic creative challenge #writing #Blazblue #Carl Clover #Kokonoe #Bang Shishigami #tw self harm

[ace-octo-pix]

This is... going to be a bit long. sorry, mobile users. The ocs are listed by team!

SPLATOON 1 TEAMS

ROKA/OLIVIA/AGENT 3. A bit of a lovable goof, with caring too much for her little inkling body. Fierce in battle. Yes, she gets the scar in the OE arc, but the OE arc goes a bit differently in the story due to... reasons? yeah, reasons. She goes missing for a full year and that’s when Akim takes up the Agent 4 handle.

MINT TEA/PAIVA. A bit of a gossip, but also a wall of support. Wants to cheer everybody up, but is hiding issues of her own. Close friends with Roka. A possible ship with roka, as well. She’s the second leader of the team, and the only one in contact with Roka, right up until her disappearance. Oops. Literally the only one with a picture like this.

GLASSES/HENRIETTA. I did not know that the splatoon manga glasses was known as glasses, and this is awkward. and also full moon is a thing and AGH. anyway glasses. Seems to be a sarcastic little piece of shit, but honestly it’s just a front to her inner core. Of someone who likes to snipe and have fun. Wonder what caused her to be like that? hm.

Bandanna/Daphyne. She exudes an aura of edge, an aura of Not Caring... but she really does care... a lot more than she lets on. Will Fight anybody who disses her pals. Honestly a teen girl at heart. Loves black.

RETRO/AKIM/AGENT 4. A bit of a prick, but the kind of prick you know doesn’t mean his words. He’s kind of skilled in battle with his roller, which makes this W O R SE !! a big fan of music, and gaming, and also being gay. he makes jokes about that a lot.

SPECS/MARK: you know the stereotypical nerd? stays in a bedroom most of the day, tinkering around with stuff? That’s Specs! He likes to play video games with Retro, and... oh, look at that, another ship. Wow. Analytical!

SUNNY/GWEN. Similar to another person, she appears to not care, while caring a lot. Apathetic seeming, but able to come out of her core to care. Probably has a lot of interests from her girlfriend...

RAINY/SARAH. She’s fueled by a firey passion most of the time, but it tends to fizzle out quickly, and that’s how she and Sunny met, basically. Not pictured is the Traditional Headband she wears. Yes, she and Sunny are girlfriends. yay matching outfits.

PAINT! Er, she looks... not like this as much? Her gloves cover her fingers, and her hairstyle is the enemy octo hairstyle! In the ‘first game’ aka the first arc, she actually wears the paintball mask which covers her whole face, and also mains chargers. She just switched to brella in the second game. Shy, kind of nervous, but willing to put her foot down when push comes to shove. Er, she also has to be pushed to that point. Poor girl.

FISHFRY. A super out-there kinda kid. sorry, some ocs don’t have much personality. He will Protecc Paint with his life. Probably does research and field expeditions for her.

PEAKS. Proud of her role in battle, and probably the first one Paint trusted with the secret of her being an octoling, and the one best fit to break the news.

VECTOR. Full Attacc mode. Fueled by battle, loves to battle. Whenever Paint is taken off guard, she’s probably the one there to back her up.

ZEKKO. Leader of the Marksmen. Sorry there isn’t much about him. he’s definitely gay tho? Loves bothering the other players with his gun.

PANEL. A bit of a nerd, though he hides it behind his huge blaster.

SQUIDMARK. Reclusive? shows little emotion, but its definitely there.

CHECK. Loves the feeling of his hair. Probably more muscly than you would gather from his shirt.

SATIN. Loves this style and doesn’t get why people laugh at her scuba mask. knows what she’s doing in battle, but... not much outside of it.

CANCEL. Tends to ignore the outside world for her daydreams, even in battles, and still does well?? how does this team function

Ah, this is how they function. PARKA. Aka the straight person- well, they’re nonbinary and are hiding their ponytail in that hat of theirs. The person who sets the team straight and directs them in the right direction. Beakons help.

Zink. Just as odd as the rest of his team. He says his headband helps him, when it very clearly doesn’t. Or maybe it does and its just a hidden condition. Who knows? He’s just a bit bizarre.

BERRY. Leader of her team, she’s Suspicious of everything, and fierce in battle. Loves being Warm....

Olive. Er, he has the wrong ink color, and his eyes are blinking. It’s better like this instead of the WRONG PIECE OF HEADGEAR. Suave and cool, and yet constantly bickers with Berry. Ah, sibling culture. Super strong. A bit of a brat, but he won’t press on Berry’s anxious triggers. That’s Just Rude.

JELLY. Sometimes called Baby because of just how precious she acts. Will kick people if she has to.

SHRIMP. AKA... well. You know that headcanon that Pearl, Emperor, and Prince are siblings? Well, Shrimp’s their cousin. He’s got the short genes. He tries to compensate for it by being loud, and is often jokingly called Pearl’s cousin. Likes telling tales. That are often mostly true.

SPLATOON 2 TEAMS

HOOK/ATA/AGENT 8. A soft and kind soul, friendly and loves to talk more than take action, but when she takes action... whooo. she knows how to take action. If she’s angry, you don’t want to be around. Mostly quiet. Another possible ship with Roka.

YAMAGIRI/ADRIAN. Confident, and a bit cocky, but it’s mostly only a bit of exaggeration: he loves to stick to his ideals, and truly believes himself to be carrying those out to the best of his ability. Stupidly loyal to his friends.

TOOTHPICK/NOELANI. Two words to describe her: mom friend. Caring, worrying for everybody that crosses her vision, analytical to a stupid degree. Strong, so she can help throw her friends into a food cart so they can EAT FOOD. 

OCEANIC/VICTOR. A soft-spoken octoling, but is willing to do whatever it takes for his friends to Remain Happy, happy to shoulder their burdens. Hides his emotions under his big ol’ hat, though if you look under it, he’s probably a blubbering mess. Whenever angered, his voice seems to drop octaves and inflection. That’s terrifying!

BLOCKER. Oh my god, he’s a party animal. Oh my god. He likes doing memes and tricks, and, you know who this should remind you of? Aloha. Anyway, Blocker’s well known for his tricks with his brella, and his excellent dance skills... which also aids him in battle!

FUGU. He has a Big Ol Crush on Blocker, and I don’t think Blocker’s noticed yet. Oof. Kind of quiet and likes to observe before hopping into things, useful for a blaster with such a short range...? Awkward, but he’s trying to get better.

SEA SLUG. Constantly on the go, constantly moving, she’s gotta Go Go Go!! Hyperactive, probably can be seen stimming. Has an attachment to her gun.

LEAF. Seemingly hard-boiled, constantly huffing about something or other. She’s- she’s a Rider Tsundere, that’s all I can describe her as. Her friendships with Blocker the Party Master and Sea Slug have definitely Lightened her up. Still a little bit of a grump?

ARROW. Dependable. You can depend on him to tell you when you’re doing some Bad Shit, Stop That.

HOTHOUSE. A... a bit of a flirt, and a good punster. two things that shouldn’t be combined into one girl.

TACKLE VISOR. Keeps their face hidden purposefully, which hides their non-standard hairstyle. Rough and tough, a sneaky little bastard. You know, despite the TACKLE VISOR on their head.

MATCHA. A silly little guy. The oblivious one that somehow still manages to cooperate with Hothouse’s jokes anyway. May be faking obliviousness...

HICKORY. Such a casual guy. Him and Blocker are probably pals. Party pals. Would drink your soda on accident and then apologize.

DO-RAG. oh my god, look, it’s a lesbian. She loves to show off, and is super strong. Could probably lift her teammates above her head. Actually can’t see much without her glasses, they’re made for her weird-ass eyes.

REDLEAF. He looks like the type of guy who hyperfocuses on everything and has to be told to back off, but he’s not trying to be creepy. Soft. Would memorize your food favorites and cook it for you.

CLAMS. He. he loves being super fancy. Not because he thinks he’s above others, he really, really loves the aesthetic of it! He and Do-Rag fight over which splatling is better sometimes. And then help each other score dates.

EGG. Super silly, has probably eaten a raw egg whole on a dare. Easily dared into things, though this means she’s very resilient. Can and Will say silly things just to confuse people.

CARROT. Helps out with Egg’s jokes. Has shoved an entire carrot down her gut before. Egg and her were actually friends before they both traveled to the surface. They are... bad influences on each other.

RAINBOW: He’s a casual gay. I- uh. He’s super fun in battles, and is often the one daring Egg and Carrot to do things because he loves putting it on whatever the octo media is. Loves sandals, hates his toes feeling constricted.

CANARY. Oh my god this is a swamp gremlin. You know the meme versions of agent 4? that, times like 100. Jesus. This team is crazy.

SEASHELL. Doesn’t use the deco because her teammates described what the burstbomb and carbon did to people and she doesn’t wish to cause people harm....

JADE. he’s blue ba due be- i mean. he’s a good singer, but still learning the ropes of his new weapon.

DEEPSEA. A friend. The dad friend. Will tell jokes to make you feel better, but always a shoulder to lean on. Always will wear silly clothes too.

FORGE. ..... a guy of few words.... kind of like skull. doesn’t really talk much, but evidently is a good prankster and loves spicy things. Will tuck you into bed and then doodle on your face.

#LONG POST JESUS #Long Post #Pix's OCs #which ones do yall like the most? tell me! #picture

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Kindness; Part Seven

Fandom: Fallout (3)

Pairing: Female Lone Wanderer/Charon

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Seven!

Spoon knew she was really, really lucky at this point. He had let her pull his wrist practically into her lap so she could look at it closer, and she assumed she must be using up all sorts of future favors. She couldn't help it though! The visibility of his muscles was captivating, and she itched to document all of their motions. Her fingers traced the red areas up and down his forearm, then moved to his leg.

  “You want me to take my pants off too? Needy smoothskin.” Charon's teasing tone snapped her out of her mindless exploration, and she felt her face start to heat as Charon took her hand.

  Much like she had done with him, he trailed his fingers across her forearm. Her pulse hammered traitorously as he pressed a thumb to her wrist, all the while so casual and calm. “Do I fascinate you or something, Mistress?” The tone in his voice was odd now, and Spoon worried that she might have offended him. “Am I a good patient to examine, Doc?”

  She remained silent, tongue tied as he somewhat brazenly continued to check her pulse.

  “Good news Spoon, you're still alive. A little racy, but seemingly none the worse for the wear.” The ghoul said solemnly, his eyes giving away his inner mirth as he looked at Spoon.

  She huffed indignantly, finding her voice to grumble, “No need to poke fun at me, you giant fucker,” while trying to tug her wrist from his grip. She might as well have been trying to remove her hand from a block of concrete. Charon didn't even seem to notice she wanted to get her hand back, his strong fingers firm against her skin. He raised her hand to his face, eyes inquisitive as he began poking and prodding her wrist. Spoon giggled in spite of herself and the sound seemed to please Charon. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “Alright, I'm sorry. I won't treat you like my own personal lab dummy.” Spoon apologized. “It was rude of me. Can you accept my apology so I can have my hand back?”

  Charon released her wrist, seeming to almost pout. “Fine. But next time, I'm taking it with me.”

  Spoon gulped. “You wouldn't.”

  Charon grinned in a manner that was more akin to baring his teeth. “You don't want to know how many times I've heard that.”

  “How many times have you threatened to take someone's hand with you?!” Spoon squawked.

    “Enough times to know the noises a hand makes when you separate it from the body.” Charon growled in reply, making Spoon snicker.

  “You're awful. You're only half-joking too, aren't you?” She jibed, gently elbowing him in the side.

  “Me to know, you to never find out.” Charon watched Spoon scrabble through her bag, tossing little bits of junk this way and that as she dug deeper. His chest tightened as he thought of how close he had come to having his contract holder killed. His brow furrowed. He would just have to be more careful is all. No more mistakes.

  Spoon pulled out an old, banged up Pip Boy, presumably to use the light on it to read something that she reverently took out of an inner pocket.

  Charon hesitated to ask, but... “What is that?” He kept his voice quiet, so Spoon could ignore his inquiry if she wanted to.

  Spoon jolted, looking up almost like she had forgotten he was there. “Oh! Uh, nothing. It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Get some sleep, Charon. Busy day tomorrow.” She mumbled, already re-absorbed with reading...whatever it was.

  Charon huffed. “Sleep is a luxury, not a necessity, Mistress. May I patrol the hall for threats?” He gestured to the door that led to the foyer. Her noncommittal murmur in reply made him roll his eyes. Charon stood, a strange urge taking hold of him that demanded to be acted on. He felt weirdly playful, teasing, almost drunk and he chalked it up to the rad water. “May I make you scream my name as you ride my cock?” He asked in the same tone as before, his smirk fading as he realized what he had just said. Fuck.

  “Mm, yeah. Sure thing Charon.” The smoothskin replied, clearly absorbed in leafing through that book. Charon grimaced, somewhat relieved that Spoon had actually been that distracted. Otherwise, things could have gotten rather awkward. That being said, he took minute pleasure in lowering a hand and rumpling her hair on his way across the room. But the smoothskin didn't even look up. Her brow just furrowed, like she was thinking excessively hard on something.

  Charon moved into the foyer and made himself comfortable in an old office chair, his shotgun lazily propped up on a blasted-out computer monitor. What a day, he thought, feeling his eyes grow heavy as he listened for the tell-tale sounds of something stirring in the night.

    Spoon awoke groggy the next morning, realizing in a flash that it was much later than normal. The light fighting its way through the boarded-up windows was a golden russet color, indicating the lateness of the day.

  Why didn't Charon wake me? Spoon wondered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. A small scrap of cloth on the floor beside her caught her attention and she picked it up curiously. It was saturated with...something. A quick sniff made her vision spin, and she threw the rag, gagging. “Med-X.” Spoon said aloud, swearing as she noticed the absence of her rifle. “Charon!” She called, thoroughly worried now. Spoon got to her feet, sliding the hunting knife out of her boot and slowly advancing towards the lobby. Every sense was on high alert, her brain running through a list of possibilities as long as the Potomac. Did Charon drug me in my sleep? If he hadn't, where was he? What had happened? And why did her heart feel like it was trying to slam its way out of her chest?

  Spoon peered around the corner of the doorway, shoulders slumping when she realized the foyer was deserted. She crouched, hearing her father's words echo faintly as she began her 'forensic investigation'.

  Alright Eleanor, think . Look for marks, signs, anything. You're a smart kid.

  Spoon shook her head. Not him. Never him. He had abandoned her, left her parentless in a vault full of psychopaths. She gritted her teeth, focusing on the task at hand. I gave Charon Stims and rad water last night. What do Stims do to ghouls besides heal them very slowly? What does radiation do to ghouls in general? Makes them happy, makes them loopy. Her eyes widened. Makes them sloppy .

  What if there had been something else living in this building? What if it came from inside the building while Spoon was asleep? They had drugged her and taken her rifle, and then...

  A desperate noise fought free of Spoon's throat, a quiet animal-sound. Charon . Her fingers traced huge footprints, Charon's footprints in the drifted sand and dirt on the floor. Numerous other footprints, crisscrossed and walked over and over again. Too many. At least six people, maybe more. Some dried blood in the dirt. Frayed bits of rope.

  Spoon's own blood ran cold when her fingers touched something formidable almost wholly covered in the sand. It was Charon's hunting knife, she recognized the wicked-looking half-serrated blade like it was an old friend. Charon's skill with the blasted thing had been legendary in her eyes. He had shown her a few tricks but she knew she would never come close to his level. Finding his knife without him attached to it was like the final nail in the coffin. Spoon swallowed hard, not surprised at the lack of Charon's shotgun after her own gun had vanished.

  The idea that she was alone again hit her much harder than she would have liked. Tears blurred her eyes for what felt like forever as she contemplated what she could do. She felt like she was leaving the vault all over again, stepping shaky-legged and terrified out into the blistering sunlight and thin air of a world she did not know, and a world that would not hesitate to punish her for her ignorance.

  “ I don't want you to follow me. God knows life in the vault isn't perfect, but at least you'll be safe. ”

  Her father had said those words before he vanished, gone back to the only thing he had ever loved. Spoon's face hardened and she picked up Charon's knife. She stared at it for a long minute, and then her knuckles whitened on the hilt. Charon was the closest thing to a friend she had out here. He was the only one who ever protected her, regardless of whether it was in his contract to do so. Fuck, she'd even gotten him to smile a few times. She doubted that was in the contract. He had said that she might be a good person. Well, here was her chance to prove it.

  Now she had to be the unstoppable killing machine. A part that, regardless of her smaller size, she was more than willing to play. Charon had to be hurt in order for him to have been dragged off with her still in possession of the contract, and that thought alone made her seethe. Her eyes followed a long furrow in the dirt and sand on the floor where something had been dragged. Something Charon-size. The trail led back into the building, past where she had slept, down another hallway.

  Another thought made her stop cold. Maybe...maybe the Med-X was supposed to have killed her. She had been exposed to a fair amount of it in the vault, due to her attempts to find the best possible ways to get her bones broken, either by the so-called, 'Tunnel Snakes' or other more accidental ways. She might have built up a tolerance to it. Out here, Med-X was hard to come by. A small dose could be lethal enough to kill someone with no prior exposure. After all, they hadn't even injected her with it, just dripped some onto a rag, put it over her nose and smothered her until she lost consciousness. She probably hadn't even woken up when they did it. She certainly didn't remember waking.

  Spoon scrambled to her pack, hidden before she had fallen asleep. She'd learned fairly quick that if you didn't want to wake up with your things gone, you hid them. And while the rifle was what she was most familiar with, she was by no means a slouch with her knife. Especially since Charon taught me a few things.

  Spoon swallowed the lump of gratitude in her throat, focusing on what she had to do. She thanked whatever god there might be that even though she wore mismatched boots, both the ones she had were found with knife holsters clipped to them. Charon's knife slid into her right boot like it belonged there, and hers followed suit on the left. A quick reach down and she was armed. An older, rustier knife with a knuckle duster for a handle took up residence in her left hand, feeling heavy but good. Like it was made for her. Some more rummaging procured her Pip Boy for illumination and the remainder of her Stims filled her pockets.

  Spoon squared her shoulders, adjusted her hat, and slipped silently into the hallway.

    Charon didn't know how long it had been since he had been at the Institute. One hundred, three hundred years? It didn't matter. The headaches were just as crippling now, stirring unpleasant memories in his brain. He was bound with numerous layers of things; rope and wire and chains tied together with dingy padlocks. His head swam and pounded with every beat of his heart; the control phrase felt like a battering ram against the insides of his temples.

  Return to contract holder.

  Return to contract holder.

  Return to contract holder.

  Spoon.

  This was worse than when he was with Ahzrukhal. He was nauseous, helpless, furious all at once. The chains, old as they were, were unyielding when he pulled against them. The ropes frayed but didn't snap like they had the first time. God, he was so stupid! Falling asleep, why did he take the rad water? He should have just taken the Stims and suffered quietly as everything slowly knit back together. Now he was trapped, chained to the wall in some hellhole. Spoon must be dead, there's no way she survived. The raiders got past her somehow, killing her in her sleep would have been all too easy with her night watchman asleep at his post.

  A new thought occurred to him that made him grit his teeth. What if they had...

  The image flashed into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Her screaming, crying, begging as clothes were torn off, as she was exposed, as they--

  Charon's shoulders tensed, rubbing raw in his bindings as he strained against them. He snarled largely out of frustration at the dark figures that slunk around the corners of the room in the half-light. How dare they truss him up like a goddamn quivering coward? How dare they let their filth touch Spoon? How dare they?!

  He threw himself against the chain, his boots slipping in the grime on the floor and dropping him onto his shoulder. I swore to keep her safe. I told her I would keep her safe. The contract is supposed to keep her safe. His head rested on the floor and he drew his knees up underneath him. His arms stretched out painfully behind him, biceps crushing against the ropes and wires digging into his skin. He breathed out a whine through gritted teeth, the floor feeling cold and soothing against his pounding head as he fought the urge to scream and vomit at the same time. His stomach was revolting against him, his body thinking that he was purposely rebelling against the contract. You're not exactly in a great set of circumstances when your own body fights you mercilessly. Charon thought with more than a touch of bitterness, retching.

  A raider boot slammed into his ribs. Charon was freshly healed from the super mutant's onslaught and he prayed that everything had the chance to set right, because he was clearly about to have a few things re-broken. He closed his eyes, waiting for the blows to fall. The raider didn't disappoint and Charon retreated mentally into a quiet corner of his mind. An overwhelming sense of failure numbed the ghoul's body to the pain, replacing it with the empty feeling of knowing that once again he needed an employer. And for all he knew, he already had one. There was no way one of these bastards hadn't taken the contract from Spoon's body and even if they didn't understand the significance of it yet, their small brains would put it together somehow.

  If they didn't kill him first.

  Charon could take a beating before the Institute, but he'd learned a few new tricks while being...trained. Like mentally detaching himself from the pain. It left him unaware to the world; something like closing his eyes and opening them again in a quiet, dim room. He would just sit and think about things. Many topics wandered through his mind in his own version of solitary confinement, and it usually took an immense force to wake him up from it before he was willing. Because that always meant the return of the pain was hot on its heels.

  It was here that Charon found himself, quietly seated with his chin rested in his hand. The Wasteland might as well not even exist.

    Spoon crept silently down the hall, the only noise her shallow breaths. Two raiders were already down, dead before they knew it. Throat-slitting was a quick and effective, if not bloodier way of taking care of things.

  She straightened her hat. Spoon's hat was a special hat. She had acquired it when she had gotten to Megaton and deactivated the bomb. Moira gave it to her as a sort of a housewarming present...as well as an apology for getting her heavily irradiated for Science. The hat had a larger brim than most, but that wasn't what made it special. Moira had taken scrap metal and formed a protective ring inside the hat around the hat band. It made the hat exceedingly heavy, but it also made Spoon really good at taking blows to the head.

  Usually when your enemy is busy recoiling from the fact that they just broke their fist on your forehead, they can't react to you headbutting them in the jaw with your metal skull. Spoon grinned to herself, attempting to keep her worries about Charon at bay. A few still managed to slip through, though. Please be safe! She begged mentally, sneaking up on another raider. Be strong for me, I'm coming! Don't die on me, big guy. I need you.

  The raider bolted to his feet with a war cry, coming at Spoon with a revolver cocked and aimed for her heart. Spoon ducked and slammed her knuckle duster into his shin, grabbing Charon's knife out of its holster with her free hand. The raider screamed in pain, going down in the sand. His gun clattered against the wall, far out of reach. The young woman crossed her blades at the wailing man's throat, and leaned in real close. “You keep whining like a bitch, and I'll bite your fucking ears off.” Spoon hissed. The man quieted, and Spoon smiled mirthlessly. “That's better. Now, my little friend, I'm looking for someone. A buddy of mine. Maybe you've seen him?”

  “W-we...we killed you! We suffocated you with the chems! You want the...the rotface?” The raider asked shakily.

  Spoon sighed heavily and punched the man in the side of the head with her knuckle duster, tearing the skin. “Let's try this again, shall we?” She asked calmly as the man howled in pain.

  “Th' ghoul! It's a ghoul, ain't it?” The raider sobbed.

  “Better. He still alive?”

  “I-if it is, it won't be for long!” The man's bloodied face twisted into a grin, and that sealed his fate.

  Spoon slit the man's throat, got up and tipped her hat to his thrashing form. “Much obliged.” Hang on Charon! She ran down the hallway full-speed, throwing caution to the wind. If there was anyone else nearby, they would have heard the ruckus of the Raider she had just killed and come running.

  I-if it is, it won't be for long!

  She shook her head, trying not to think about those words. 'If', huh? Knowing Charon, he's got all of them tied up and he's picking his teeth with someone's shattered femur bone right about now. Light up ahead startled her enough to get her to slow, and she switched off her Pip Boy light. She slunk further, swearing at herself for not picking up the Raider's pistol as she passed a mattress with a human torso nailed to it and numerous limbs hanging from the ceiling via sharp hooks. How...quaint. Spoon thought wryly as she glanced upwards. They certainly do know how to make a girl feel at home.

  She carefully peered around a doorway into what looked like an old classroom, and her eyes widened. Charon!

  The ghoul looked like hell. His eyes were glazed over, and too many portions of his combat armor were stained with blood for Spoon's liking. A raider was in the process of swinging a baseball bat down onto the small of the chained ghoul's back. One other raider looked on idly, leaning against the wall and picking something off the bottom of his shoe.

  Spoon's blood sang to the challenge, both knives in her hands ready and willing. “You get the hell away from my friend!” She screamed, lunging for the raider with the bat. He turned and swung at her instead with a yell of surprise. The bat slammed into her knee, but Spoon pushed through the pain as her knives perforated the man's chest cavity. She proceeded to ventilate the first raider, blood spurting down the man's shirt and spattering on the floor.

  The other raider grabbed Spoon around the throat from behind and heaved her into the air, but she forced her chin down into the crook of his elbow and bit his arm, making him holler. While he was distracted Spoon flipped one knife around and buried it in the man's unprotected side, forcing the blade in sideways between his ribs. The raider squealed in pain when she twisted the knife and then loosened his grip, allowing her to escape. She whirled and clumsily caught him across the face with her knuckle duster, tearing Charon's knife back out with a rasp of the saw against bone. The raider staggered back, dropping to his knees.

  Spoon snarled, and she felt that Charon would have been proud of the furious noise. It was guttural, raspy and flat-out scary. She stood over the raider and asked, “Was it worth it, you little fucker?” The man scrambled back to his feet and Spoon tensed, moving to lunge again and essentially walking into a punch for her trouble. She heard a distinct crunch and then there was an explosion of pain as her nose broke under his fist. Sloppy, cocky, useless little Eleanor.

  Her legs buckled, injured knee having a rough time holding her up, but to her credit she didn't fall. She lashed out with Charon's knife, ramming the blade up through the man's chin to hold his face steady so she could batter him to a lifeless pulp with her knuckle duster. She was vaguely aware of someone yelling, maybe her, maybe him. Then it was over, the raider's frame plopping wetly on the ground.

  Spoon retched, spitting a little blood off to the side and starting to go through the raider's clothes for the keys to Charon's chains. She wanted to fix her nose, but she dreaded the idea of pushing it back into place. So get Charon free and safe first, then worry about her nose and knee.

  Spoon finally found the key in one of the man's pants pockets, holding it aloft with a garbled cry of victory. She fought with the rusty padlocks on the wall for several minutes before they gave way and she let Charon's arms ease down to rest against his back. He was still breathing anyway, which calmed Spoon's mind somewhat as she sawed through some of the ropes holding him.

  “Fucking wire, really?” She grunted as the knife caught on it. “The fuckin' chains weren't sufficient for you, eh big guy?” Spoon bit her lip as the wire snapped under the stress of the knife. “I hope you're alright. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here.” Her voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. She knew this was her fault. She had incapacitated him, spoiled him with both Stims and irradiated water and made him lose his edge. “I...I won't do it again. I promise. I can't let you get hurt again.” She murmured. “You mean too much to me. I can't let you get hurt anymore. You're always there for me, and the one time I could have been, I fucked it all up. I'm...I'm so sorry.”

Part Eight

#fallout three #fallout 3 #charon the ghoul #Female!Lone Wanderer #rewrite #hurt/comfort #canon-typical violence #video games #slow burn #charon/F!LW #Charon/Female Lone Wanderer