silenthilllz

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the pixel art brothers

legends say that if you pet them all at the same time, you become the pixel art master!

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ROCKMAN DASH

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I GOT KICKED OUT OF MY TEAPOT AGAIN

That world quest in natlan with the new region, can someone tell me which characters would work to defend that bc Kaveh, Amber, and Diluc are starving.

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I really like Black Jack so much 😩

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Kabru stuff for kabru birthday

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The Grazer of Souls, acrylic painting by SebastianMonPainting

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Summoning golden eyed Sugilite

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Urushitober16

🐈‍⬛

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Did Aalto just offer a booty call?

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SABRINA THE TEENAGE WITCH | 1.05 - A Halloween Story

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Brant wip

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You think Sunday hides his face with his wings when he plays peekaboo with a child

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i had a fluffy req idea if ur still taking them -

different hsr boys {main ones being aven and sunday love them sm} after your baby says their first words 🥹 (more of an ask if reqs are too full !!)

hehehe to make up for my more angsty reqs

(also, if it’s not taken, i’d love to be {🪷🤍} anon :>)

First Words

Tags: Aventurine, Sunday, Boothill, Gepard Landau, Fatherhood, Emotional Moments, Parenthood, First Words, Love, Vulnerability, Protective Fathers, Tender Moments.

Warnings: Emotional Intensity, Sensitive Themes (parental attachment, soft vulnerability)

A/N: THE WAY I SCREAMED?! OMGGG 😭💖‼️ I WAS MUFFLING MY SCREAM WHILE WRITING THIS!! BOOTHILL DESERVED TO BE IN THIS!! And, of course, you can be 🪷🤍 anon!!

Aventurine sat at the edge of the bed, his usually calculating eyes softening as he watched his baby cooing in their crib. The soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow on the room. He had been a master of strategy, a man who thrived on risks and uncertainty, yet nothing in his life had prepared him for the overwhelming joy of fatherhood.

The baby gurgled, the first words bubbling up from their tiny mouth in a way that made Aventurine's heart stutter in his chest.

"Dada..."

His breath hitched. It was a single word, but it held so much meaning. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity, never quite knowing how much it would shake him to hear. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that only those who knew him best would ever witness.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, though the baby was already asleep. He could have sworn the world had momentarily stopped just to let him bask in the miracle of this sound. There was no strategic calculation, no manipulation of circumstances; just pure, unrefined love. The thought that his baby had chosen him, of all people, to be the first to say such a word filled him with a warmth he didn’t often show.

Aventurine carefully reached over and placed a hand on the crib, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand. He felt the overwhelming desire to protect them, to ensure that they would never have to face the brutal world he had lived in.

"You're mine now, little one. I’ll make sure the world plays by your rules." he whispered softly, his voice laced with love.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of this moment settle into his bones. Aventurine, the master of manipulation, was nothing more than a father in this room—vulnerable, unguarded, and completely enchanted by the simple sound of "Dada."

Sunday had never been one to show much emotion outwardly, his calm and composed demeanor always masking the storm of thoughts beneath. But now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his golden eyes locked on his baby, his chest tightened in a way that he couldn't explain. He was a man of ideals, of lofty dreams for the world, yet nothing could have prepared him for the heart-stirring moment of hearing his child speak.

"Papa..."

The single word was so simple, yet it rang in Sunday’s ears with the clarity of a thousand bells. He felt as though the weight of all the dreams and hopes he had for a perfect world, a place where his loved ones would never have to suffer, had finally taken shape in that single word.

For a moment, Sunday simply stared, stunned by the beauty of it. His hand, once firm and decisive in leadership, trembled ever so slightly as he reached toward his baby. His heart, so used to thinking in ideals and concepts of the greater good, now beat with a singular, overwhelming sense of purpose.

"You... said 'Papa.'" Sunday whispered, his voice almost breaking. His normally steady hands shook as he cradled the baby, feeling their warmth against him. For a man so convinced of the need for a perfect dream, this moment of imperfection—a baby’s first word—was more than enough to fulfill him. The world of dreams he had always sought to create felt tangible now, as though it had been born in that one precious sound.

As he gazed down at his baby, Sunday felt an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. The weight of leadership and responsibility melted away, and he realized that no matter what happened, this little one would be his reason to keep fighting, to keep dreaming, to keep striving for a world that would never harm them.

"Papa..." he whispered again, feeling the word vibrate through him. The world he wanted to build suddenly felt like it could be real, because of this one small voice that would grow with love, light, and perhaps even a bit of the dreams he held.

Sunday smiled, a rare and genuine smile, as he looked down at his child. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, little one. I will always protect you."

Boothill had always been a man driven by rage, a cyborg cowboy with a heart hardened by years of loss and revenge. But now, as he stood in the quiet of his cabin, looking down at the baby in his arms, something had shifted. Something he couldn't explain.

His baby, wrapped in a soft blanket, gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Boothill’s usual sharp gaze softened as he cradled the tiny form in his arms, his mechanical hand careful not to hurt them. The sound of the baby babbling was almost too much for him to process.

Then, it happened.

"Pa-pa!"

The world seemed to pause. His metallic fingers tightened slightly, but not out of anger—out of something new. Something tender.

Boothill froze, his heart skipping a beat. The world had once taken everything from him—his family, his home, everything he held dear. But here, now, was something that felt like a new beginning. The word “Pa-pa” rang in his ears, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had never imagined such a moment, never thought it would come in the wake of all the destruction and vengeance he had pursued.

"You said it..." Boothill muttered, his voice rough. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were now misted over with something softer. For the first time in years, he felt something akin to peace.

His gaze flicked from the baby to the window, where the stars twinkled above, endless and quiet. He had fought for so long, but maybe, just maybe, this little one was what he needed to remind him of the life he had almost forgotten.

"Pa-pa!" the baby cooed again, and Boothill let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m here, little one. I’ll be here."

It was a vow, but it wasn’t one made from the fury of his past. This vow was different. This one was made for a future, for a family he was determined to protect.

Gepard stood in the nursery, his large frame leaning against the doorframe as he watched his baby sleep in the crib. The weight of his position as Captain of the Silvermane Guards was always with him, but now, in this quiet moment, it seemed almost insignificant compared to the tiny life he had brought into the world.

His eyes softened as the baby stirred slightly, their small hands reaching out as if sensing him in the room. It was then that the baby spoke—barely a whisper, but enough to make his heart stop for a brief moment.

"Buba!"

The word echoed in his mind, and a small, stunned smile spread across Gepard's face. His hand instinctively reached toward the crib, resting on the edge as he leaned down, his heart overflowing with emotion. It was as if the weight of all his responsibilities had suddenly been lifted, replaced by this singular, precious connection.

"Buba!" the baby said again, their voice soft but filled with trust.

Gepard’s breath caught. He had spent so much of his life focused on the welfare of others, on the grand ideals of justice and protection, but now, as he looked at this tiny soul, he realized that this was where his true duty lay. He would protect them at all costs, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"Yes, my little one," Gepard murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Buba’s here. Always."

He carefully scooped the baby into his arms, cradling them close. For the first time in a long while, Gepard felt something other than the weight of duty—he felt love, deep and unyielding. And as he rocked the baby gently in his arms, he knew he would fight for them, not as a captain or a warrior, but as a father.

I'm gonna be sick because of this 🥺😕💖😭

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I stole all their food

OH ITS A FUCKING DATE LOCATION

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goddamn he's huge

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WHO PUT THE BABY IN THE CAGE????