give your favorite rhythm heaven minigames 🫵

favorite rhythm heaven games from rhythm heaven ds: rhythm rally 1 & 2, blue birds 1 & 2, love lab, dog ninja, munchy monk 2

favorite rhythm heaven games from rhythm heaven fever: hole in one, screwbot factory 1 & 2, monkey watch, air rally, figure fighter, packing pests 1 & 2, micro row 1 & 2, samurai slice, flipper flop, flock step, cheer readers 1 & 2, karate man

rhythm heaven games that made me GAY!!!: fan club 1 & 2, the dazzles 1 & 2, frog hop, karate man (ds), air border, remix 8 (fever)

inktober for writers - day 5 - fallen / eijiroctober - day 5 - child Kiri

I like this one a lot, personally. [finger guns] i think it’s cute!

“Oof! OW!”

“Eiji? What are you doing in there?” Kirishima Hanaki paused from finishing the dishes to wait for a reply. Her curly, short-cropped black hair clung to her forehead with the sweat of hard work. “Eiji? Eijirou? What’s going on?” A quiet whine sounds from outside the kitchen. A few seconds later, another quiet moan quickly morphs into sounds of distressed crying. Oh, goodness. Quickly drying her hands on the small towel hanging on her shoulder, Hanaki bolts from the sink towards the sound of her crying, three-year-old son. Fortunately, she doesn’t have to travel far before reaching him. A few feet from the kitchen entryway, a huddled, crying mess of a boy lays facedown on the floor. A wave of anxiety shakes Hanaki’s body as she bends her lean body over the tiny form of her son. She reaches out to turn him over on his side, fingers brushing against exposed flesh peeking out from under a Crimson Riot t-shirt. She is surprised to discover the absence of baby soft skin and the presence of an almost rock-like texture replacing it. Underneath the heavy fog of anxiety, Hanaki feels excited. Her baby finally got his quirk! She’s a bit disappointed that he apparently didn’t inherit hers but, ultimately, she’s grateful that he at least has a quirk to speak of. “Eijirou, baby?” Getting over her initial surprise, she continues flipping the toddler over on his side. There is a genuine wave of relief that washes over her when she sees the extent of what the commotion was about. Oh, god. Thank god. Eijirou’s face is puffy and teary-eyed, burgundy eyes overflowing with despair and the shock of pain. Hanaki spots a shallow-looking cut on his left eyelid and sighs a sound of relief. The boy continues to cry loudly. “Oh, baby. You’re fine, you’re fine! It’s just a small cut. Let me heal it real quick and you’ll be good as new.” She lifts him up carefully, not wanting to cut herself on her son’s now rigidly sharp body. She places him on her hip placing a pale hand on his forehead. “You ready?” The boy has stopped crying, instead sniffling loudly and shaking like a leaf. He gives a little nod and Hanaki continues. Lightly pressing down on his forehead, she activates her quirk. Her finger releases a visible pink aura around it, its essence oscillating as the cut on the boy’s injury slowly begins to heal. It takes about a minute for the cut to heal completely, to Hanaki’s surprise. She realizes that it must have been deeper than what it looked like at first glance while noticing the tiny scar left from the wound. “Oh, wow. Look at that, it left a scar. That’s okay though. Now you look just as tough as Crimson Riot, hm?” Eijirou’s face shifts into one of extreme discontent, but Hanaki attributes the look to being told that he now has a scar adorning his face. “And look at you! You got your quirk! Dad is going to be so excited! You’ve gotta learn how to control it though, I can’t have you actually poking an eye out.” At this, Eijirou starts crying again. This time his sobs are quiet but they shake his entire body, his tiny form heaving into Hanaki’s while she holds him. “I don’t want it.” “You don’t want it? Baby, you’ll learn how to adjust. Quirks are like body parts, you grow into them. You’ll be fine.” “No,” he answers. His childish voice is grounded in assertiveness. “This quirk isn’t good.” Hanaki tilts her head in confusion. “Yamamoto has super-strength, Hiragi can bend metal, Wari uses tel— teli— te—“ “Telekinesis?” “That,” the boy huffs in frustration. Hanaki stifles a giggle and nods at him to continue. “And all I have is... a rock form. That’s lame.” Eijirou’s body heaves again when he sighs. “I don’t want it.” Hanaki processes what her son has said. She continues to stand where she is, her discouraged boy still tucked away in her arms and fighting the urge to cry. After a few quiet moments she has figured out what to say. “What do heroes do?” Eijirou’s burgundy eyes lose a bit of their melancholic tint as his bright eyes roll up to his mother’s face in uncertainty. “Uh, fight?” “Yes. They do that if they have to, but what do they strive to do? Their purpose?” “Oh,” the boy’s eyes light up for the first time since cutting himself. “Save people!” “So they protect, right?” “Right.” “Right!” Hanaki wipes a tear from her son’s face before continuing. “Your quirk is the best for that. As a hero you shield people from villains, yes?” Reluctantly, the boy nods his head. To her excitement, he finally looks a bit better. Face still carrying disappointment, but lost of all the despair it was currently wearing a few minutes ago. “You’re quirk allows you to be a shield. A protector! You were born to be a hero, Eiji! Other heroes have to adapt their quirks so that they can safely protect civilians. You? You’re a natural.” Eijirou looks at her with budding excitement. His body starts shaking again, but this time Hanaki can tell he’s vibrating with anticipation. “Really?” “Yes, really! How does telekinesis protect people?” She watches her son’s eyes roll to the ceiling in contemplation. With a soft bop to the head she regains his attention. “It doesn’t! He’ll have to figure out how to make that work eventually. There are few quirks that are actually made for heroics, Eiji. Don’t be fooled.” Hanaki watches her son start radiating with happiness and renewed purpose. She smiles along with him as she walks back into the kitchen with him still hanging off her hip. “So now you’re going to sit in here with me since I shouldn’t have left you alone in the first place. I knew you were too quiet... Quiet is the prelude to disaster.” The last part she mumbles to herself while sitting the toddler on the counter beside the sink. She listens to him buzz excitedly about going to school the next day and showing off his quirk while she finishes washing the remainder of the dishes in the sink. Losing herself in housework, she only hears the question being directed at her once Eijirou has called her three times. “Mom. Mom. Mommy!” “Oh, huh? What’s wrong, baby?” “The scratch. You can’t fix it?” He points at the scar on his eyelid, darker in color than the rest of his skin and raised. It’s a pronounced little thing. You wouldn’t be able to miss it. “Mm. No, honey. I don’t think I can. That’s the way it would’ve healed naturally. I’m sorry.” The boy pouts for a quick moment before immediately grinning and rocking rapidly back and forth on the counter. “Careful, Eiji.” “Okay, but,” the toddler says, not slowing down or ceasing to rock at all, “you said the scar makes me look tough, yeah? Manly? Like Crimson Riot?” Hanaki pauses. Eijirou is looking at her with an almost unhealthy amount of elation, his little feet swinging back and forth wildly as he rocks with extreme enthusiasm. She smiles. “A manly scar, a manly quirk, a manly aspiration! You’re a triple threat, Eijirou.”

Out on a Limb

It’s the chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The resolution to the climax and the finale to a fic I never imagined would get so huge. What started out as a silly oneshot idea became a beast all its own, and though it’s been a hassle to wrangle at times, I don’t regret letting it grow to its full potential- wild and crazy as it might be.

It’s kind’ve a tree pun get it cause... nevermind.

The support and love for this fic has been astonishing and appreciated. I never thought so many people would be into it, or into the King’s shenanigans, so count me (and him) happily surprised! As one of Mark’s oldest egos, he really deserves more love, and hopefully I’ve sparked a little something in the community by writing this. Let’s never forget our nutty monarch.

I have to give a final thank you to @angstphilosophy for putting up with me and all the horrible things I did to his favorite ego, and of course @alcordraws for all the inspiration and support. If you aren’t following them yet, go.

So here it is, everybody. Hope you enjoy it, and I’ll see YOU, in the next fanfic. Buh-bye~

AO3 Mirror

Chapter 13: a brand new court

"Is it truly such a loss?"

"Shame on you, Darky. He's been with us since the beginning."

"The Host thinks a certain... something, would be lacking without his presence. When he finds a name for it..."

"Sass awrful."

"He was kinda dumb anyways."

"And he was holding all those poor babies hostage!"

"Wouldn't even consider sellin'em, tha monster."

"Too much, too much, it's too much..."

"I can't believe it's gone! All that work, wasted!"

"Everyone, calm down, this isn't helping."

"The doctor is correct. His chance of survival is extremely low as is."

"Approximately 20.6754%."

"Thank you, Oxnard."

"Should have permitted my assistance... could have helped...."

"I wish there was something I could have done sooner. I could have stopped him."

"Jim, don't. You know that's not possible...."

"...if you're all done going off on your own tangents, I have a suggestion."

The rains had dried up. The clouds retreated. The world was warmed by the sun's rays and gradually, the mess of the back lot was cleaned up. The Googs insisted on lopping off what remained of the walnut tree's shattered trunk, leaving only a short stump as a marker it had ever existed at all. Bim stopped by, shortly after, decorating the stump with some lovely ribbon and a small, handmade plaque. He felt it was the least he could do for the fallen.

Days drifted by. The squirrels, displaced from the home they'd created, milled about the many crawl spaces of Egos, Inc. They could often be spied briefly in any of the numerous rooms, including those belonging to the egos. They never remained in sight for too long.

Except, however, in the clinic. Dr. Iplier had placed all of the babies in a makeshift nest in a secluded, quiet corner and thus many of the squirrels were drawn to the space. He did his best to keep an eye on them and keep them warm, but even with the odd conditions, the squirrels did a decent job of caring for their litters. Host had actually offered to let the babies nest in his library, where it was warmer, quieter and darker. Yet Dr. Iplier had declined.

He felt it was best if the babies stayed near the one non-squirrel they trusted. The person who had risked his life for them on more than one occasion.

Dr. Iplier was still trying to figure out how King of the Squirrels had survived. Between his healing injury, the partial electrocution and being buried beneath the rubble of an entire tree, King should have at least perished. Perhaps not disappeared, but been dead for some time before reviving with help from Mark's community. He was such a small ego with an equally small fanbase, it didn't make sense for him to be strong enough to withstand such abuse.

Yet he remained stable throughout the passing days. Never waking up, but never slipping into a more permanent slumber. He was resting; healing slowly even with assistance from the doctor.

"It's kind've a miracle, you know." Dr. Iplier quietly explained after King had finally opened his eyes. "And I don't really believe in those, but I don't know what else to call this kind of intervention. Mark's community... there was an odd spike in interest, recently. In you. I'm not sure what caused it, but... I have zero doubts the popularity spike resulted in your survival. Something made them remember you, King. And it also made them love you, all over again. I think you're giving Silver a real run for his money on the luck side of things."

Once awake, King still had many days of recovery left. He'd broken bones, dislocated limbs, shattered joints and been punctured more times than a pincushion. The shapes and sizes of wood shrapnel Dr. Iplier had removed from his body were astounding. He'd lost much of the blood he'd regained, and simply moving proved near torturous. Dr. Iplier kept him on heavy medications for a long time.

Gradually, though, he improved. He became more lucid as the drugs were decreased, and he found he could move and even sit up in bed. He started to interact with the squirrels which had been lingering around and was thrilled to discover all of the babies were okay.

"Thrilled" wasn't the same word he'd use to describe his reaction to actually being visited by some of the other egos, but it was close.

Wilford stopped by once, gifting him with peanut butter cups he'd gotten from a fan. Claimed King would just have to drop by for another interview, as the ego who survived being struck by lightning.

Host delivered a book he'd gotten about anthropomorphic squirrels and other rodents questing in a fantasy land. He emphasized it was King's to keep, and even stuck around to read the first few chapters to the ailing monarch.

Mark Bop drifted by with Bing in tow to drop off a CD player and another mix he'd made up. He didn't say much, clearly nervous, but Bing happily exclaimed how "rad" and "gucci" King was for surviving the lightning storm "like a boss." King still wasn't sure how to take it, but it sounded like a compliment.

A small portrait of a squirrel mysteriously appeared at King's bedside one morning, blessedly clear of any creepy red men.

Oliver stopped by often just to chat with King and see how he was doing, and occasionally he brought along the Jims or Bim as well. They always had treats or snacks to indulge him with until Dr. Iplier caught them and chased them out long after visiting hours were over.

It was... strange. King wasn't accustomed to receiving so much attention from anyone besides his subjects. Between the love he could feel swelling within Mark's community and the attentions of his fellow egos, it was almost as if he were healing something else alongside the physical. Something deep inside of him which had been broken and lacking for a very long time.

When King could finally be "discharged," he was approached by Bim in the clinic. He still had a bit of a limp and couldn't exert himself for long periods of time, but he wasn't at risk of collapsing or tearing open any stitches. Curiously, Bim actually looked excited, immediately piqueing King's curiosity.

"King! I'm so happy to see you on your feet again. You had us all really worried for a while there- well, most of us. The important ones." He grinned, gesturing some with his hands as he spoke. "Now, I know you were just released by everyone's favorite medical professional, but I was hoping you could come with me for a bit! Just a bit, I promise, I won't keep you long. You can bring all of your squirrels along, too! And the babies!" A hint of a delighted squeal tinged Bim's tone, drawing out a soft smile from the King. Bim had been utterly smitten with the babies since he discovered them in the clinic.

King was still so tired, but Bim's enthusiasm really couldn't be denied. "...alright, I'll come. But just for a little while. I don't know how long I can be up and about right now." He needed to figure out where he was going to hole up next. He didn't recall any other trees occupying the back lot, and the babies needed somewhere safe to be raised. The clinic just wouldn't do.

Bim clapped his hands together excitedly, beaming. "Great! Fantastic! Grab the babies and we'll be right on our way. Not a second longer than you can stand, I promise!"

King sort of doubted Bim, but he didn't comment on the hastily thrown about promises. Instead, he went to grab the box, cradling it much as he had his own crown that fateful day. The squirrels would have tailed him regardless, but with their babies in tow they followed him a little more adamantly. Several were hitching rides on his shoulders. He didn't mind one bit, and neither did Bim, if his amused smile was anything to go by.

While they walked, Bim navigating the halls of Egos, Inc., King allowed his mind to wonder about what Bim wished to show him so badly. He had no idea where they were going to supplement his imagination, so it ended up running a little wild. At least he knew it wouldn't be anything bad. Bim didn't have the heart for that.

They arrived to a set of doors King didn't recognize at all. They weren't labeled, and the wood was darker in color than the other doors in the building. In fact, the entire frame looked brand new, along with much of the surrounding wall. He blinked owlishly at the sight before turning to Bim with a questioning expression. Even the squirrels were sniffing curiously at the doors, but Bim merely maintained his smile as he set a hand on one of the door handles.

"This was a... well, a group effort. I- we, really hope you like it, King. You deserve it. After... everything." Bim turned the handle and swung open the door, gesturing for King to step through.

Natural light and the blessed smell of fresh air hit King first. More than a few of the squirrels scampered eagerly over the threshold before he could coax his own feet to move. The warmth of summer ensconced him instantly, but it was subdued. Shade cast by the surrounding walls prevented the grassy inner courtyard from becoming too hot.

Egos, Inc. did not have a courtyard. King had lived in its nooks and crannies long enough to know that much. No, this entire space had been cleared out from the very heart of the building. Not just at the ground floor, either. The open air stretched up and up and up until the sky could be seen from above. The sun's gentle rays drifted in, reflecting off the glass windows and dappling the leaves of a massive, California black walnut.

The tree stood tall and strong at the very center of the courtyard. Its trunk was thicker than King's last two trees combined, with its roots running long and deep into the soil. Its boughs almost stretched across the entire expanse of the courtyard and reached more than halfway up the building.

It was a tree which should have taken decades, perhaps even centuries, to grow. A tree which never could have been transferred from one plot of land to another. Not without some physics-breaking abilities involved.

Hell, the entire courtyard must have been the result of just that. Reality had been bent here; molded and shaped to fit the egos' will. King gawked at the sight in absolute awe while his subjects scampered about with a newfound excitement and interest of their own. He was so enthralled by the surprise and his own shock that he failed to realize several more egos had been awaiting his arrival.

"Couldn't get Dark to get off his lazy bum and give us a helping hand, but with some help from Bim I was able to manage. Hosty helped some too. Couldn't have done it so nice and neat without him." Wilford drawled, gesturing to the other two reality benders present. Bim smiled a bit bashfully, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Host was smiling as well, hands clasped lightly together. "They just required a guiding hand. Host wanted to assist, if it meant keeping the King's squirrels out of his library...."

"Sul sul- ah, I mean..." Mark Bop awkwardly cleared his throat, wringing his hands. King wasn't certain if the ego was nervous about him, or the powerful egos in the courtyard. "We didn't really... help, but... Bing and I here, we just... garnar frash. Flarn." He scrubbed a bit at his face. "We wanted to apologize. For trying to force you out of your tree."

Bing didn't look too enthusiastic, but a swift elbow to the ribs from Mark Bop got him speaking up as well. He scratched at the back of his head in obvious irritation, attempting to come off as aloof. "I mean... fuck. Yeah. Sorry, I guess. That I flipped off your tree, and your squirrels. An' told'em to fuck off. That was... lame." He huffed and pouted for a moment, but it dissolved away when he exchanged a brief look with Mark Bop.

"That's why we're here too. I offered to help decorate the space but they told me no." Silver lamented, motioning between Ed Edgar and himself. "I've been meaning to tell you, but... I just couldn't work up the nerve. I'm sorry. I should've asked more questions, and not jumped to conclusions.... You had every right to dump me out of your tree."

"And I guess I... well... sorry. For offerin' ya a gosh darn business venture-" Ed made a pained sound as someone stepped on his booted foot, but it happened so quickly no one could be sure of the culprit. "I'm sorry! Okay? 'm sorry, got-damn."

Artiplier stepped forward. He looked as awkward and anxious as the others, but different somehow. Clearly, it wasn't pride or stubbornness heavying his tongue. Rather, guilt shone bright and sad in his brown eyes and his expression. He even toned down some on the accent when he spoke. "Desole. I'm... zorry, King. For everything." He despairingly shook his head. "I never should 'ave..."

"It's not your fault lightning struck my tree. Or that Yandere attacked me. I'm sorry I scared you off that day." King was quick to interject. He had no idea why Artiplier felt so responsible.

Said ego sighed, but worked up a pained smile. "Of course, of course. I... I left you zome paints and brushes, near ze trunk. In case you... wanted to make murals. On ze walls. Darkiplier gave his permission..."

"With a little arm twisting. Told'im he wouldn't be able to see it, anyway." Wilford spoke up with a mischievious wiggle of his mustache.

It was King's turn to smile at the kind gesture. "Thank you, Artiplier."

The artist scoffed softly. "Zink nothing of eet. I also promise never to paint zis tree."

"Uh... okay." King didn't understand why that was necessary, but if it prevented another freak out, he wouldn't complain.

All of the Googs weren't present, but Oliver was. "We installed some dim lighting around the courtyard as well. For nights when moonlight is unavailable. We attempted to make it as natural appearing as possible."

"And I'm forecasting nothing but sunny days to come." Weatherman Jim grinned from where he stood with Newscaster Jim. It was only then King realized they each held something in their hands, and Bim stepped forward once more.

"May I...?" He was extending his arms, gesturing to the box of baby squirrels.

King's first instinct was to tighten his grip and pull the box closer to himself. However, the items being offered were too tantalizing to resist. He needed his hands. Hesitantly, after much internal debate, he carefully passed over the box. He treated it like precious, fragile glass, and was relieved when Bim mimicked the caution.

The Jims stepped closer, raising their "offerings" with matching smiles. "Jim here's gonna try apologizing to you profusely, I couldn't convince him not to, so you better accept it Mr. King." News Jim was speaking up before his other self could, and Weather Jim shot him an irritated look.

"Jim..."

"You don't need to apologize either." King lifted a hand, quieting the egos who were primed to bicker. "You couldn't have stopped me. Even if you had the ability, if you were actually there... I would have ignored you. Just like I did the others. In fact, I should thank you. In the case Oxnard might not have gone to fetch the Host..." He trailed off, a shadow crossing his face at the very real possibility of his untimely demise.

Weather Jim still didn't look entirely convinced, but he smiled and pressed a familiar cape into King's hands nonetheless. "We may not know each other very well, but... I wanna change that. And I'm glad you're okay. You'll be safer, here. All of you."

King accepted the cape with a renewed awe and relish, rubbing his hands over the soft and fluffy material. "How..."

"Well, you know, when you've got reality benders on the roster...." News Jim grinned, and Bim's bashful smile told all. He waited for King to slip the cape back over his shoulders before offering him the crown again. "We shined it up real nice for you. It was kind of dirty, after... y'know. Now it's good as new."

"I... thank you...." King took the crown into his hands, admiring the sheen of the faux silver and costume jewlery. Almost reverently, he set it upon his head and grinned. It was barely a second before a squirrel was clambering on top of it, chittering away happily. He giggled. "I almost feel like my old self. Now if I just had some peanut butter-"

"Don't make me regret this."

The sound of a cool, raspy voice drew the egos attention to the still open doorway. Several sets of eyes widened at the sight of Darkiplier, clad in his finely pressed suit and clutching a large jar of peanut butter. He stalked towards King, who immediately tensed and inched away. His brief experience with the void may have been ages ago, but it stuck out in his mind like a fresher memory.

Several of the egos were stepping in, looking more than ready to get between two of Mark's oldest creations. Dark stopped and held up his hand, expression reserved. "Stop it. I'm not going to hurt him. I simply wanted to... view the finished product. And supply a peace offering." His darkened eyes flitted back to King, whose stomach still chilled beneath their gaze. He eyed the jar being extended towards him with an understandable wariness. Dark looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "It's just peanut butter. Take it. And kindly keep your antics in here, where they can't cause the rest of us any trouble. This week's been enough of a headache...."

"You'd think he was the one struck by lightning." Wilford muttered, the only one confident enough to voice his thoughts. He smirked when Dark's shell cracked and his composure twitched to the side in a silent scream. "Go ahead, Kingy. If it is poisoned, we'll just turn his office into an arboretum."

Dark was scowling openly at Wilford and King used the opportunity to take the jar. Immediately, the grey aura dispelled from it, and Dark turned away from the assembly of egos. "Just keep your squirrels in here, and we won't have any problems." He left without another word, as quickly and silently as he'd come. None of the egos had any complaints about how brief the visit was.

However, they did take it as their own signal to head off, saying goodbye to King and some giving him well wishes. Others promised to come and visit very soon. Bim was the last, and he lingered, beaming at how King still looked up at the massive tree with a childish wonder. He cleared his throat to get the King's attention and gestured to the door. "Also, in case you thought the color on these doors might look familiar.... They're made from the walnut that was destroyed. We gathered up the broken wood and the Googles did a bit of planning, and we did a little magic and... I just thought it was appropriate. I hope you don't mind..."

King looked up at the door frame. Slowly, he dragged his hand down the freshly carved wood; polished smooth and clean by skilled hands. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to the walnut and closing his eyes while he breathed in. It still smelled like home.

Now he had a new home. A safe home, tucked away in the heart of Egos, Inc. and surrounded by friends he never thought he'd be lucky enough to have. The smile on his face was utterly serene. He'd never been so at peace. "No, it's... thank you. I'm glad it didn't go to waste. It was a good tree. It deserved better than the dump or a wood chipper or a fire...." He pulled away, giving the frame a few solid pats.

"It did... and so do you. I'm happy you like it, King. Please, feel free to come visit me any time as well. You can even bring some of your squirrels along, just- don't let them get to the wires." Bim passed the box of babies back to King before taking his leave. The doors clicked shut behind his retreating form, and King was left alone with his subjects at long last.

He turned back to the tree, still trying hard to wrap his brain around all that had happened. The babies and his subjects were safe. They would be happy here. He'd survived so much, and Mark's community was remembering him. The egos were remembering him. They liked him. They wanted to be... he had...

He had friends. Not just loyal subjects, but friends. A warm wetness trickled down his cheeks and he sniffled. Something soft and fluffy rubbed against his cheek, and he smiled gently at Tim perched on his shoulder. "I'll be okay. Just... bein' a big, bubble-blowin' baby here." He sniffled again. The babies in the box were beginning to chirp softly, calling to their parents in search of food and affection. He laughed, more breath than actual sound, and shook his head. "We have some work to do. Our new kingdom awaits, and a new generation with it."

King looked back up to the tree, its boughs swaying in a light breeze. His eyes shone big and wet with more tears he didn't bother wiping away. They were good tears. Adjusting the box in his arms, he headed for the sturdy trunk, watching his squirrels like a proud father.

"Hello, everybody! I am your King, and today we're going to explore our new kingdom!" He laughed brightly as he began to scale the branches. "First one to the top has fleas!"