#Honey Badgers my beloved

[mikaikaika]

"If someone kills Badboyhalo, I will definitely kill that person. Twice" - Pangi

[imhyperfixatingrn]

I love that Bad saw the giant explosion from that tree trap and went "This has Pangi written all over it."

He knows his teammate is a fan of making explosives and nuclear contraptions that leave big craters, and I dont think anyone else would have figured it out. Just telling of how much Honey Badgers are on the same wavelength,,

[venominomenon]

YES YES YES

It's like with bats and supers

I just think that every Pool needs a (Wol)verine

[mickyschumacher]

[GORGEOUS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[camelspit]

petra minecraft story mode my beloved

@skylilac

@callas-pancake-tree

@sillyguy-supreme

@steal-nightmares-leave-dreams

@neverseen-nevermore

@abubble125

@purplesoup-lad-le

@gay-otlc

@thefoxysnake

@keeper-of-the-lost-dadwin

@ravs6709

@corruption-exe

@kamikothe1and0nly

@that-glasses-dog

@presidentroarie

@even-if-in-another-time

@nyxpixels

@slozhnos

@katniss-elizabeth-chase

@sofia-not-sophie

@moontoastt

@lemon-girl-in-devil-town

@three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat

@purpleunicycle

@just-a-honey-badger

@loverofallthingssmart

@antisocialdork

@tamsong

@cutebisexualmess

@tastetherainbow290

@gayupstraight

@myfairkatiecat

@famousinfamous

@kale-of-the-forbidden-cities

@oroshka

@tw-5

@squishmallow36

@iggydancebreak

@cosmxc-ars3hol3

@amandayetagain

[mandarb]

I want everyone to know about Stoffel

[littlesunshine1223]

Philip Quote Book Special

(My beloved son 🥹)

- [ ] There’s a banana in my banana pudding

- [ ] Spiders wearing flip flops

- [ ] BBQ sauce in the bed

- [ ] It looks like I’m about to start quacking and eating crackers

- [ ] It’s like having sex with a warm water bed

- [ ] Frog Fight Club

- [ ] David hasslehof is a very expensive man

- [ ] No glocks at lunch time

- [ ] Liar lair dress aflame

- [ ] Welcome to CNN I’m drunk off my ass

- [ ] 14 honey badgers in exchange for a soul

- [ ] *takes bite of peanut butter cookie* I’m going to fucking cry

[a-bit-too-silly]

Would you maybe do a drabble about regressed Logan being fussy about having to take a bath, maybe with CG Wade?

of course! I decided to have a bit of an inconsistent narrator cus Wade talks right to the reader sometimes. Hope this is alright! :]

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

If there's one thing Logan *isn't* known for, it's his cleanliness. He takes care of himself most of the time. He's half good at that don't get this twisted, dear reader. But.. well, he's not particularly neat. We'll put it that way.

When he's big he's always getting covered in sweat, grime, blood, ash, he's really the type to roll around in mud like a dog if he thinks it'll make him feel better. 'Feral' is a good word to describe him, even when he's not gone into one of his berserker rages. But when he's little, it's.. yeah, it's the same story. Maybe a bit less blood and no ash since I wouldn't- ehh... *nobody* would let that little guy smoke anything. Not even his beloved cigars. Thankfully he's found some other ways to satiate that oral fixation of his, even if it does mean the occasional bite on the arm every now and then.

Regardless of what he decides to sink those little chompers into, he still manages to get himself coated in just about everything he comes across.

Mud? Oh-ho, definitely. No use in putting him in his raincoat and boots since he'd prefer to stomp around in every puddle barefoot anyway.

Food? You know it. You could be feeding him as neatly as possible only to turn your back for a moment and find some mashed avocado in his eyebrow.

Dust from the floor? Yep. Paint? Sure. Crayons? Somehow, yeah. Blue fur from Kurt? Mhm. Don't get me started on the jam incident. That sweet honey badger found his way into the cabinets.. the evidence of that massacre still stains those poor porous countertops.

I'll hand it to him, he's talented.

Unfortunately... bath time is his worst enemy. Maybe it has something to do with the experimentation, that'd make the most sense. Maybe it's his tendency to sink. Maybe he just prefers to be a stinky little gremlin. It's not exactly my place to ask. He's often too little or too tired to stay standing long enough for a shower, and sponge baths aren't really an option.

With background info out of the way, let's get back to the problem at hand.

-

"Cmon peanut, I made sure to put in the bubbles you like! They're yellow!" Wade says with a small gesture towards the tub. "Al! Tell him they're yellow!"

"You really think I'd be more convincing than you?" She calls from the other room almost incredulously. - oh, right. *Blind* Al.. yeah.. maybe not the best at identifying colors. - Wade looks out the door of the bathroom in the general direction of where Al is seated, minding her business.

"See? Al likes how yellow they are." He says in spite of everything, "Do you want to get in the tub now, munchkin?"

"no. No bat-time." Logan, as little as he is right now, scowls. It doesn't have the intended effect, but Wade lets out a dramatic groan anyway. Toddlers.. can't be reasoned with.

"Unfortunately not how this works, kiddo." Wade says, crouching down next to the tub where Logan has firmly planted himself against the tile. He's no longer wearing his top, seeing as it was an unfortunate bystander to some sticky pancakes and cubed meats. All chopped up nice and small so Logan wouldn't choke but big enough that he could chew on em a decent bit.

"Don' need ta." The adamantium boned toddler huffs in response, "'m not dirty."

"no, but you are sticky, kiddo. And you were playing outside with Storm earlier so I bet you got a bit icky there too." This only makes Logan's scowl firmer. The once little pout growing in such a way that makes Wade's heart ache. If it weren't for the fact that Al would definitely nag him about Logan's sticky fingers, face, chest, shoulders... Logan's general *stickiness*, he doubts he'd ever manage to get the rascal to ever bathe.

"Papa get in first." He said firmly, pointing to the tub like he's the one calling the shots. Which he is. Wade is a weak weak man for his grumpy little guy. "'n no dunking."

'Dunking' in this case stands for dipping the little guy's head under water. Wade would never, but it gets mentioned at least once per bath time. Upon hearing the statement, Wade throws up his hand in a solemn oath.

"Scouts honor." Now, Wade has never been a boy scout, but he's also never been one for hurting kids so the promise still stands. With that, he slips out of his slippers and rolls his sweatpants up to his knees so he hopefully won't get too soaked, and he sits down on the edge of the tub. The water in the tub isn't too deep, only reaching up to around the middle of Wade's calf, with another few inches on top of thick yellowy foam from the bath bomb Logan relished in watching dissolve.

Still reluctant, Logan watches as Wade sits on the edge of the tub for a while. And Wade lets him. It's a slow process, always is, but after a few minutes of pouty glaring Logan tugs off the last of his clothes then clambers up into the tub with a bit of help from Wade. Just to ensure he doesn't slip. The water is still nicely warm despite the slow process, maintained by frequent touchups of hot water and lifting up the plug to let out the cold.

"Good job, peanut." Wade says softly as he grabs an old cup, bright red in color and decorated with a variety of stickers, and starts to ladle water over Logan's shoulders. He's learned the hard way that Logan has the 'if my head gets wet in a dry room I will shake until it's dry' reflex, so hair washing stays until the end.

Logan is quiet and stiff, letting out the occasional whine despite himself. Seems he's on the silent treatment side of the spectrum rather than the 'giving a cat a bath' side. It's almost worse, but Wade knows he'll perk back up once things are done.

So he starts to gently scrub the sticky syrup and dirt from Logan's hands, meeting his eye as best he can. His little one is sulking, lip still pouted out, eyes downcast and sad.

"Bath time is no fun, I know, my sour faced friend." Wade sighs, "anything that could make it better, bubbie?"

Logan stays quiet for a while, only moving when Wade needs to reach somewhere to clean. "No."

"mmm." Wade mumbles, taking the removable showerhead off of its holder so he can quickly rinse off Logan, getting his hair and rinsing off the soap. "Just a moment.."

"done?"

"Yep. All done, honeybun." He says as he stands up to grab a towel from the shelf, that earns him some grabby hands and a desperate search for 'uppies'. Which he gladly satisfies after bundling him up in a towel. Yeah, I can pick him up. Adamantium skeletoned 300+ pound toddler? No biggie. "Let's get you in some jammies and maybe you can convince Nana Al to let you put on a movie. That sound good, bubsicle?"

Logan nestles his head into the crook of Wade's neck and nods a little, his limbs clinging to Wade like a koala clings to a tree. He's really not used to being picked up, regardless of how much he asks for it.

"And then Papa pool is gonna make some chicken nuggets and fries and we're gonna forget all about that icky horrible bath." Wade continues as he carries Logan to the bedroom, patting his back occasionally.

"Dino shapes?" Logan asks quietly.

"Oh, definitely. That makes em more nutritious." Wade scoffs, pulling out a pair of comfortable flannel pants and a T-shirt that still manages to be baggy even on Logan's broad frame. The faded pattern still clearly reads 'Bambi' with the titular character looking up at a butterfly while sitting in a bed of flowers. It's a favorite of his, and maybe Wade has been messing with continuity to make sure it never wears out. Maybe. Come on, every one needs their recognizable outfits!

Logan dresses himself with only a touch of help with the socks. Then he does that silly toddler walk, the one where its more stomps than normal footfalls, off towards Al with Wade following close behind.

[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [01]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2.7k

AN: Yes. Hi. Hello. Believe it or not but I started writing this fic because I desperately needed some good guy!Daniel being cute with kids in my life. The idea was just a short one shot. Ha. Who was I kidding? Because here we are, six months and nine chapters later... I really hope you like it, please come yell at me in the comments, on anon, or in my DMs about any and all things about this story you want to yell at me about. I probably deserve it. ♥

Masterlist

There’s something about being here, on his farm outside of Perth, that he doesn’t experience anywhere else in the world. Not in Monaco, not in Los Angeles, not even in Austin, or Montana. 

Because here- Here, he doesn’t have to be Daniel Ricciardo, Danny Ric, DR, or the Honey Badger. He doesn’t have to be a Formula One driver, an eight-time race winner, the most beloved driver on the grid, and the fan favourite. He doesn’t have to be Red Bull’s wild card, Renault’s saviour, or, most recently, McLaren’s scapegoat. Here, he is Daniel. And it’s enough. 

Or, at least, it used to be.

Lately, there's been a yearning in his heart that he's unfamiliar with. Or he pretends to be anyway because he’s not ready to put it into words yet, not ready to speak into existence what he really wants from life. Afraid he'll jinx it if he does. 

And so he keeps it to himself and lets his heart ache for something more in silence while the life he does know slowly keeps on falling apart around him.

***

Daniel rests his wrists on the handlebar of his dirt bike and lets out a breath he seems to have been holding in ever since he retired on lap forty-five of the Monza Grand Prix four days ago. Looking out over the valley below, he feels more grounded than he has in a long time and he hopes that the next two weeks will give him the peace he so desperately needs after the shitshow that has been his season so far. 

The sun’s already low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the somewhat still barren trees and shrubs even though he can tell winter is slowly coming to an end from the sprouts of green that have started to grace the landscape with their presence. There’s a kookaburra laughing somewhere in the distance and he takes it as his cue to fire up his engine again for one last run around his dirt track before it gets too dark. 

He knows technically he isn’t supposed to ride his bike during the season, knows technically McLaren could issue him a hefty fine for breaching his contract, but if they ever were to find out he figures they can just take it out of the settlement they’re due to pay him at the end of the year. He’s promised Zak he’ll do whatever it takes to score as many points as possible in the last six races but he also decided early on that he’s no longer going to let the team dictate what he can or cannot do in his time away from the track. 

There’s a meeting tomorrow, with Blake and Michael, where they’ll try to figure out his future in Formula One. There have been a few offers, both from teams who want him as their second driver and from teams who want him to become their reserve driver, but he’s still undecided, not sure if he wants to settle for another midfield team or stay in Formula One without really being in Formula One. 

By the time he completes his lap his head is somewhat empty, too busy instead to focus on keeping his bike under control and not ending up in the dirt. It’s almost dark now and so he opens the throttle wide and guns it home, a race against an invisible clock that, unlike this past season in Formula One, he wins every single time.

Once his bike is safely back in the shed he makes his way over to the house, hosing his boots down before he takes them off at the back door and leaves them to dry on the shoe rack his Dad made for him when he bought the farm. He changes out of his gear in the mud room, making a face when he takes his socks off and catches a whiff of the smell but laughing then because he remembers them smelling so much worse after a race in, oh let’s say, Singapore. With nothing but his boxer shorts on he steps into the kitchen and heads straight for the fridge, taking out an ice cold bottle of water. The sigh of relief when he rolls it against the back of his neck almost obscene. It might be winter but temperatures in western Australia are still as high as a beautiful spring day in Monaco.

It’s then the intercom rings and for a moment he debates ignoring it, not sure if he’s up for telling yet another local journo looking to make it big by trying to get an interview with ‘shunned McLaren driver Daniel Ricciardo’ that now really isn’t a good time  and that any requests for interviews should be made through Blake anyway.  

Plus, he gave his family and friends the access code to the gate when it was first installed, so he doubts any of them are waiting for him to open it, not in the least because they know better than to just show up without a text or call in advance.  

In the end, his curiosity gets the better of him and so he walks over to where the control panel of his alarm system hangs in the living room and pushes the button needed to connect to whoever’s at the gate, “Hello?”

“Hi,” the screen comes on then, the black and white image showing a woman wearing a Stetson hat. She’s staring somewhere into the distance, her face obscured by the shadows the brim of her hat casts under the streetlight, but her voice comes through loud and clear, “Sorry to bother you this late-”

“It’s seven thirty,” he shoots back almost effortlessly.

“-but I wondered if I could maybe ask you to keep it down with the dirt biking a little?” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

She looks up and into the camera then, pushing her hat a little higher so he can finally see her eyes, “It’s just- We’ve got a flock of alpacas over in Eagle's Nest and they tend to get a little jittery from all the noise. Especially when they try to settle in for the night and-”

“I’m sorry,“ he can’t help but grin, running a hand through his hair, “but I’m going to need a little more context here.”

She laughs and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and so he’s a little distracted but then he sees her taking her hat off, revealing her face and- Fuck. She’s gorgeous. He watches her as she shakes her head, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “Shit, sorry. I probably should have given you a bit more to go on.” Putting her hat back on she straightens up and points to somewhere over her shoulder, “Your neighbour on that side, Oscar Linton? He’s my granddad. I think you know him, right?”

“Old man Linton!” He smiles and nods, “Of course I do.” When he first bought the farm he made sure to introduce himself to his neighbours and while he likes to think he has a good relationship with all three of them he’s always had a soft spot for the elderly man further up the road. So much so that he always makes sure to drop by for a chat whenever he finds himself back in Perth. It’s then he connects the dots and recognises her from some of the pictures Oscar has up in his living room. All of a sudden he feels guilty for not going to see his neighbour yet even though he has been home for two days already but maybe he can do that tomorrow or-

“He fell a few days ago-” her voice pulls him out of his thoughts unintentionally and his guilt triples in a matter of seconds. There’s a sad smile tugging on her lips which makes him prepare for the worst. 

Surely they would have let him know if- He remembers the pile of unopened letters waiting for him on the kitchen counter then and curses quietly, “Shit.”

“He’s ok,” she’s quick to reassure him, as if she knows what he was thinking. “He spent a couple of nights in hospital and still has a long way to go but at least he’s home again.” She takes a deep breath, “They had to replace his hip and he’s got a broken wrist but,” she shrugs, “it could have been worse.” 

It’s then the absurdity of the situation hits him, with him in his boxers in his living room and her on the other end of his kilometre-long driveway, talking into a metallic box. He shakes his head and pushes the button that opens the gate automatically, “I think maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation over an intercom. I could make you a cup of coffee if you want? Or something stronger? I make a mean-”

She bites her lip and seems to hesitate.

“Just a quick cuppa. It’s the neighbourly thing to do, right?”

He sees her nod, “Yeah, ok.”

He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Happy days.” 

***

The house is not at all how you expect it to be, much more modern and open-planned than any of the other farm houses in the area. The west-facing wall has been completely redone in glass panels, offering a stunning view of the valley and surrounding paddocks and you can’t help but admire the interior design of both the kitchen and the living room, which is masculine but still inviting. You wonder if he decorated the place himself or if he hired some interior designer to do it for him.

“Here you go,” Daniel, who told you ‘You can call me Dan’ when he greeted you at the door with a bright smile and an outstretched hand- offers you a cup of steaming hot coffee and motions for you to join him at the kitchen table. He’s wearing white sweatpants and a matching white sweater that look incredibly comfy and that make you want to wrap yourself around him and hang onto him like a koala bear. Wait. What? 

You take your hat off to try and keep from ogling him, placing  it on the chair next to you before you sit down and smile at him, “You know, all these years I thought you were called Danny Ric because that’s what Granddad keeps calling you. I’m not sure I can get used to Daniel.” 

Daniel laughs, the laughter lines in the corners of his eyes even more prominent now, “Trust the old man to keep that gag going.” He shakes his head then, “I can’t believe he fell though.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, blowing into your coffee. “We’re lucky Mrs Mackenzie found him when she did or-” You let out a ragged breath and see him nod, his eyes kind, and it makes you continue, “His hip was completely shattered and his wrist is broken in three places so it’s going to take a while before he’s up and running again- I mean, if his new hip ever heals completely- He’s already seventy-eight so-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you fold your hands around your cup and try to calm down a little. You’re not even sure why you’re even telling him all of this, but he’s a friend of your granddad and so you figure he’s good people. “Mum and Dad wanted to come back from New Zealand to help out but-” you look up at Daniel and shrug, “I spent a lot of time on the farm as a kid, right until I left for uni, so it made much more sense for me to move in with him for the time being.” 

“That’s a pretty big thing to do,” Daniel says with a kind smile, a warmth to his brown eyes that you can feel yourself get lost in. “You sure your family can miss you that long?”

You don’t really know what he’s getting at, whether he’s talking about your Mum and Dad or the husband and kids he thinks you might have left behind to come back to Mundaring, and you don’t really know you want to tell him your truth either, after all you’ve just met him, so in the end you shake your head and settle on an honest, “I’ve got everything I need right here.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t push it and instead he says, “If you’d have me I’d love to come over to see him some time. I’m still here for almost another two weeks  and-” 

“I’m sure he’d like that,” you offer with a smile. “He always tells me what a nice bloke you are.”

Daniel leans back in his chair and grins, spreading his arms, “Can’t say I blame him. I’m the best.” 

“He says the same thing about the postie,” you tease with a casual shrug, “so don’t get too excited.” 

“Ouch,” Daniel brings a hand to his chest, “that hurts.” 

You pout, “So sad.” 

“Very,” Daniel agrees quietly, trying his best to keep a straight face. He puts his arms on the table then and leans forward, “Before you stomp on my ego some more, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here. What’s up with that eagle’s nest over in some paddock?”

“Oof,” you pull a face and shake your head, “you were so close.” You can’t help but laugh when you see him pretend to be hurt at your comment. You take a sip of coffee before you explain, pointing in the general direction of your paddock, “Your dirt track borders Eagle's Nest, the paddock Granddad uses for the alpacas in September and October, and I guess normally it isn’t a problem because you usually aren’t home during this time of year but I heard you yesterday and today and-”

“Yeah, we had an unexpected three-week break this year so I figured-” Daniel waves his hand around for you to continue then.

“It’s just, we have three pregnant females this year and- I don’t know if you’re at all familiar with alpacas?”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t even know you guys had alpacas. Your granddad and I just tend to talk shit about Mrs Mackenzie and them over a cuppa but I've never really asked him about the farm to be honest."

You throw him a look, knowing all too well your granddad doesn’t drink coffee.

He quickly backs down, “Fine, I drink coffee, he drinks tea.” 

“There you go,” you mouth with a wink. “Anyway, alpacas are basically scared of everything, even their own shadow, so you know, someone riding a dirt bike close by doesn’t really help with keeping them nice and calm during these last few weeks of their pregnancy.” 

“Gotcha.”

“They’re usually out on the other side of the paddock during the day, so anything until five in the afternoon is fine” you offer, not wanting to deprive him of his hobby completely, “but we have their feeders and the shed they can hide in during the night out over in your corner, so-”

“You’re giving me a five pm curfew, basically,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Just until the end of October.” You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Nah, no worries,” Daniel puts his hand on your forearm and gives it a squeeze to let you know he means it. “I’d do anything for old Oscar.” Then, with a grin he adds, “And his girls.” 

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks and try to hide it with a smile, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your arm again, “He’s gonna be fine by the way. He’s tough, that one.”

“Speaking of Granddad,” you risk a quick glance at your watch, letting you know it’s almost eight fifteen, “I should probably head back.” You push your chair back and grab your hat, putting it on as you tell Daniel, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime,” he says with a grin as he stands up as well, following you to the front door. “Tell him I’ll come by soon, ok?”

“Will do.” You turn around then and smile again, something about not getting your hopes up but doing so anyway when you ask, “I’ll see you around then?”

Daniel tips his imaginary hat, “Yes ma’am.” 

[mikaikaika]

Bad told Hannah that Pangi is on a warpath and her instant reaction is to start suggesting traps that she could help him place.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi! May I request more dad!Douma? Specifically what would he do if Mui decides to hide & keep her most beloved plushie out of jealousy? Kokushibo doesn’t really get him any toys & he secretly does still enjoy things like that. But Douma’s daughter is VERY attached to her plush.

Hope you have a great day OP! :D

Omlll. Douma, for real, gonna commit murder if this happens! Ima change the Kokushibo kid if you don’t mind since Demon Mui with Kokushibo is alternate AU, thank you! A bit short and bad but hope it’s okay!

Father! Douma

God, he wished he could just murder whoever hurts you. No matter how powerful they may be

Douma is legit fuming as he hears you crying all of the sudden. None of the Upper Moons will dare try control him or reason with him as he shoots off to go find the source of the crying. He is beyond ready to kill whoever is hurting you

He could have destroyed the entire Infinity Castle in that moment, at what he saw. You crying into your beautiful kimono sleeves as Kokushibo’s student is holding the cute fluffy baby Honey Badger in his arms as he cuddled it

You are so attached to that very plush, Douma got it made for you by his many followers and you took it everywhere and it was just like you’re emotional support. You may be a demon but you’re still young and childish

Douma rushes over to you and picked you up, hugging you to his chest as you sobbed gently and he tried to comfort you the best he could. He would kicked the kid’s head clean off but he can’t, right now, he wanted more to make his beloved daughter feel better

He already promises to get you many more plushes and toys to help cheer you up as he rocks you and kisses your forehead. His attempts to comfort you have been get a lot better with how much time he spends with you. His cute little lady of ice

He glares death holes at the kid from strands of your hair, feeling the other Upper Moons gawk shocked at him from the back. He has never let any sort of emotion be visible but with how overprotective he is over you, he must express how horrible he feels. This rage, this hatred flooding him is something he can’t let go of it… no, he won’t ever

Douma will make this a big deal and argue with Kokushibo about it for a while. He may not like being the bad guy around the other Upper Moons but he loves his little princess the most so he happily gets into a fight with the Upper Moon 1 for your sake

“Control your kid, Kokushibo-dono! My Dokusha is sensitive and that toy took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to make! Have him give it back!”

Douma is just so angry that he can barely control himself whilst he takes you away from the room as Kokushibo enters. He loves you so dearly that he can’t stand your pain either, he has become so unbelievably attached to you that he has found himself unable to be away from you

Douma will now never let you be alone at the Infinity Castle. The only way you can go anywhere is with him! You go up to Gyokko, besides your dear father whilst Kokushibo scolds the younger demon. He simply loves hearing you laugh happily as you show off to the Upper Moon 5 and cuddle the beloved plush returned to you

“I’m so sorry, my love. Some people are just so selfish. Don’t worry about it, okay? Daddy will take care of this!”

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Eagle Logan my beloved 🩵 I can so see him being hesitant to make friends on the grid because people tend to view his patron negatively thinking that Logan will hurt others

Meanwhile Oscar is decidedly more approachable because being around him probably gives people good dreams or cures insomnia, but he just likes hanging with his boyfriend and napping

okay this is a great point bc some people's gods have prey animals as symbols, FOR EXAMPLE, baby koalas are hunted by eagles and other birds of prey

so i have this idea that when they first met, baby!oscar heard about a bird of prey kid and was like 😰 but then baby!logan was literally

so yeah, when they're kids people are definitely more nervous to approach him, but i think by f1 it's more of an expected thing bc a lot of f1 drivers have gods w/ predator symbols (eg: max+lion, daniel+honey badger)

oscar, i think he would be v approachable bc he's kind of like a good luck charm? you're more likely to achieve your dreams around a kid of dreams, yk? but also people get tired/lethargic when they're around him which isn't always great right before a race. so most of the time he's alone right before a race bc the sleepy/calm vibe works for him but not for others

[musicallisto]

and also happy birthday!!!

sending in a 🐚 + i’m bi, I like reading, writing, gaming and yoga, turn ons include pet names and receiving the princess treatment, turns offs include not sticking up for me and being messy

my fandoms from your list are bridgerton and red dead redemption���💗

thanks so much for running this event it is soooo fun!!!<3

ohhh princess treatment, you say... let me introduce you to the absolute kings of making you feel like you are the very center of the world...

please... you know it had to be him. not only because I'm a strong supporter of the way you write him and think you are the authority on anything arthur morgan related, but also and most importantly because have you seen the way he tends his horse? how gently he talks to her when he strokes her mane? i'm thinking soooo many thoughts and none of them pure

not only that, but he is generally so caring (especially high honor!arthur, who's my personal canon interpretation of him) with those he loves and even strangers who sense the goodness in him. that energy would definitely translate into any romantic relationship, even though he'll need to get over a lot of self-doubt and self-esteem issues to make it work

in a modern AU you'd get him into yoga for sure. i can only imagine how tired and sore all those muscles are from all the hiking around the woods and fixing up stuff in your farmhouse and cutting up wood and—he needs a break, but not one where he feels too idle and therefore like he's wasting time, and especially not one where he can't be surrounded by nature. which is how you convince him to give yoga a try, on a fine dewy morning in your frontyard

he thinks it's a little stupid at first—"how's all that twistin' and bendin' supposed to make me feel better?"—but you're really persuasive and he doesn't mind the sight of you in your yoga clothes either, to be honest

he'd find it really relaxing and a surprisingly effective way to connect with nature and his surroundings, but he'd still groan a little for good measure because he doesn't want to admit you were right too easily. that, and also the poor man is NOT flexible and he is struggling.

pet names!!!!! so!!!! many!!!! pet names!!!! "darlin'" this and "sweetheart" that. "honey" and "princess" and "GOOD GIRL"?!?!,!?,,?? in that deep, southern voice of his? i need to lie down.

of course he'd stick up for you anytime you need it, and even when you don't. he pledges his loyalty to the people he loves, to the bitter end, so he'll always always defend you, even when you're a little bit wrong, lmao, but that's only because he's a beloved himbo and he thinks you're always right and so smart

also this is a little bonus—I considered mary-beth as well, because i think you too would be so so cute and actual real life ladies together &lt;3

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

now, if princess treatment had a name and a face... it would certainly bear a striking resemblance to that of benedict bridgerton.

the man is literally so smitten with you, there's nothing he wouldn't do to prove the depth of his affections. expect every grand gesture you've read about in the books; bouquets of your favorite flowers and countless portraits and blazing handwritten letters slipped into the secrecy of your gloved hand at balls.

anthony wonders why his younger brother looks so... miles away, like his whole being rather than just his head is in the clouds (more so than usual), and also why the family's expenses have skyrocketed all of a sudden... but violet discourages him from badgering benedict about it, because she's too elated that he's finally found a lady to seriously court, lol

since you're so well-read, and therefore spirited and quick, as well as artistic and creative, your conversations with benedict are as stimulating as they are witty... and that's not mentioning your correspondence. you could send each other letters back and forth every single day, were it not for decorum: it's already quite scandalous that an unwedded lord and lady are writing to each other personally, you're supposed to at least entertain your other suitors into thinking they have the ghost of a chance with you. which they don't, because it's clear as snow no one compares to benedict's bohemian soul.

it's true, however, that benedict can be quite... messy, asjdfjab, and he's thankful that it's him who visits you and not the other way around because he would Not want you to see the mess that is his studio. but you give him an incentive to start tidying up a little more! because you deserve only the best &lt;3

literally prince charming incarnate with the perfect dash of mystery and edginess to keep you on your toes. what else do I need to say

[butterflyintochains]

Pittsburgh Penguins Nicknames '24/25

A sister to my Canucks version, this time for the Penguins! Also going by position this time.

The Beloved Tandem

Tristan Jarry: Jars, Mouse, Flower JR Alex Nedeljkovic: Ned, Sunshine, Falcon

Kris Letang's D-Corps

Kris Letang: Tanger, Legend, Bang Bang Erik Karlsson: Karl, Viking Marcus Pettersson: Dragon, Petey Matt Grzelcyk: Grizzly Ryan Graves: Gravy Sebastian Aho: Seb, Sebi

Sid and Geno's Forces

Sidney Crosby: Sid, Croz, Captain, GOAT Bryan Rust: Rusty, Rustache, Eldest Son. Drew O'Connor: OC, The Kid Evgeni Malkin: Geno, Big Bear, Papa Michael Bunting: Bunts, Bunt Cake, Bunny Rickard Rakell: Raks, Ricky Lars Eller: Tiger, Great Dane Anthony Beauvillier: Tito, Beauvi Cody Glass: Glasser Kevin Hayes: Kev, Haysey, Big Cat Blake Lizotte: Honey Badger Noel Acciari: Cookie

The Rest of The Family

John Ludvig: tba Jack St.Ivany: Jackie, Ivy, Ives Matt Nieto: Niets, Ghost Rutger McGroarty: Rutter, RG, Chick Emil Bemstrom: Emilio, Emu Jesse Puljujarvi: Bison, Pool Party, Jess Valtteri Puustinen: Val, Flying Finn, Puusty

[illmoraineakoi]

So I had a funny idea the other day, and I thought you'd all enjoy it

(Read More bc this this is long)

The Abyss is canonically not as air-tight as PK thought it was, and I personally headcanon the Vessels as having a craving/obsession/hunger for light (specifically the Radiance's; they recognize pale light as “their own”.)

What if PK was minding his business one day, and just stumbles across a Vessel that's infiltrated his Palace? And he's like “Where the HELL did you come from?!” Like he legit double-checks that the door is still sealed. It is. And he’s just so Confused.

And now he's just got this second Vessel that's randomly shown up. That he has no idea what to do with. He only needed one, they're meant to be tools, but at the same time, he can't quite forget the fact that these were supposed to be his children. He can't quite bring himself to just get rid of it, even if it doesn't have a purpose.

He ends up just sitting on the issue, trying to think of a 'solution'. It's fine, it's not even really that big of a deal. It's just one extra Vessel. He’ll figure out a use for it eventually.

A few days later, he walks past both Vessels in the hall – only to stumble a step because "Wait a moment – those aren't the right horns!" And sure enough, he double-takes, and they're not. They're completely unfamiliar. These are two new Vessels.

He's so flabbergasted he actually tries to ask where they came from. And of course they just stare at him. He's so confused.

He's even more at a loss for what to do with them. It's getting hard to even remember to double check if the Vessel he's interacting with is the Pure one. He's stressing out about already accidentally fucking up their ‘hollowness’.

It just keeps happening. The White Lady corners him with a very disapproving look on her face, going "Did you forget to tell me something, my beloved?" while pulling out a Vessel from her robes. Herrah arrives unannounced and plops one on his desk, “I think you’ve lost something, Wyrm. Keep your cursed spawn out of my tunnels.” Ogrim and Isma attempt to stealthily deposit two of them in the ‘Vessel Room’ without him noticing, but the seal work on the door was designed to alert him every time a Vessel left or entered. He doesn’t even ask where they found them, he just looks at them with resigned acceptance and shuffles them into the room.

When Lurrien arrives for his bimonthly meeting to discuss the growing infection rates with a cracked mask and heavily bandaged hands, a tall tri-horned Vessel absolutely seething in a tight bundle of rope, the King honestly just wants to lay down in a ditch at this point. He can't figure out where they're coming from. He doesn't know WHY they're coming to the Palace.

He didn't even think this many had survived.

And he still doesn't know what to do with them all, aside from shoving them into the “Vessel Room”. It takes so much of his concentration just to try to keep them occupied or distracted with something, because if they aren't, they turn to the rest of the Palace, and they are somehow even more of a chaotic nuisance than Hornet was. Nothing was safe; if it existed, a Vessel was going to find it and get into it. And potentially steal it, he discovers after an eventful game of "What are you putting in your mouth--nO COME BACK HERE-"

And then Ghost shows up.

And if he thought the other Vessels were menaces, the King had no idea what he was in for. Ghost is easily the worst of them all, combined. Nothing is sacred to Ghost. Ghost is basically a honey badger: they do not give a fuck.

Ghost is the first Vessel the King accidentally gives a nickname to when he calls them a 'Little Nightmare', a title that Ghost only seems to take on with pride. The King regrets.

The King is beyond exhausted. Trying to juggle the Vessels, training the Pure Vessel, dealing with the increasing number and severity of Infected, rising tensions with Deepnest, the Hive and the Mantis Tribe, and the futile search for some other way to deal withe Radiance that he knows he won't find, because he's already out of options. He's sleep deprived, barely eating, constantly stressed, and more times than not forgets to bathe. He's in a downward spiral, he knows it, and knows he can't continue as he is. But he has no choice. He just has to keep going, while hoping, praying, that he doesn't mess up and doom his kingdom, his people.

And just when the King thought he couldn't handle any further stress...

The Vessels go missing. All of them. They just vanish.

It takes a while for anyone to even notice, but it’s the White Lady who does first.

And at first, the King doesn't pick up on his wife's worry when she tells him she can't find them. It's only when she repeats herself, insisting that they're nowhere within the Palace walls, the guards and Great Knights have looked everywhere, twice, and she hasn't personally seen them since last night, that the implication finally sets in.

The Vessels are missing.

The Vessels are missing.

He's never put together such a massive amount of city guards so quickly before in his entire Kinghood. The order is simple: find the Vessels, bring them back to the Palace. He doesn't understand why his body was shaking so much as he watched nearly every guard in the city leave to search. It must be the stress. Or he just forgot to eat again.

He expected the Vessels to be found quickly. As small and indistinct as they are, they tended to stick together as a flock or in groups. They were also not very sneaky or subtle about their presence, most of them being little terrors on stubby legs, so some bugs must've seen them. They also couldn't have gotten very far. At most, a couple of hours, he tells himself as he paces the entrance hall of the Palace, waiting for news or a team to return.

He wonders how they got out of the Palace, and resolves to find the weak spot and patch it. Without another exit, the Vessels wouldn't make it past the Guards if they tried to leave again. Perhaps he should place detection seals around the perimeter of the Palace...Just in case.

News does not come. Nor do any of the guards return for over half a day.

And when they do start trickling back, they're all empty-handed.

They give reports, of bugs seeing the Vessels, of their possible movements throughout the Kingdom, but the Vessels themselves were elusive. None of them had even caught sight of a single one.

The King is angry, enraged actually. He's also terrified. He feels like he's in pain, even though he's not wounded. He wants to burn things. Break things. Claw his workshop to pieces. He wants to scream, to seethe. To sob. He's so overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions, he doesn't know what to do. The shaking has returned. He feels like he can barely breathe past the rock in his throat. His body feels oddly numb. He’s only ever felt so helpless when confronted with the Infection itself.

The order still stands: Find them. Just find them.

He's restless. he feels anxious for reasons he doesn't understand. He searches himself, even though he knows it’s a risk to his own life; the Radiance would take any shot she had at him. He scours the Kingdom, looking for even the slightest traces of Void. He finds signs of it all over the place, small amounts, but not a single whiff of the Vessels themselves. He cannot even tell what they were doing, if anything, because they seemed to have gone quite literally everywhere.

Days pass.

With each hour that goes by without any word of them being found or them returning (by the Stars and Fates, does he hope they just walk back through the front door. He wouldn’t even be upset, he just wants them to come back.) the King becomes more and more distressed. More despondent. More hopeless.

The Kingdom, outside of the City and the villages, is not safe. So many viscous, infected creatures that would willingly try to feast upon a tiny Vessel. Food was becoming scarcer; the icy black of their bodies wouldn't be a deterrent, even if their toxic Void would most assuredly kill whatever consumed them eventually. The acids were so caustic they'd easily eat through the thin, small maskshells, leaving not a single trace. So many perilous places to fall from. So many unstable caverns to be crushed or trapped in.

The King wondered if he should alter his order to include looking for any signs of their corpses as well. He cannot bring himself to do so; to voice such terrors aloud would make them unbearably real.

Every day is the same: There is no news. There is no news. There is no news. We have not seen them. We have not found them.

Until suddenly, there is news, but it’s not the news he expected or even needed.

The Infection was dying. Rapidly. Just...shriveling up, into gnarled vines and sunken pustules. The bright glaring neon orange was dimming to a lifeless murky brown. Those ensnared in the waking dreamsleep woke up, came back to themselves.

Everyone was dumbfounded. What did this mean? What could have possibly happened? Did the Radiance...give up? Or did something happen to her? What could possibly affect the Radiance enough to disrupt her power so quickly, so thoroughly?

The entire Kingdom looked to their King for answers, and he had none to give. He didn’t know.

He could only work to prevent panic and hysteria, and hope that someone comes back with answers soon.

Through the efforts to assuage the public’s concerns, the King continues to wait, desperately, for word on his Vessels. In the evening, he waits by the front gate. Watching the bridge, for hours. Hoping, even as he’s growing hopeless. There, yet not.

The King is just about to give up for the night, to return inside, to curl up in his chambers and fall into a restless sleep that fails to rejuvenate or ease his stresses, where the images of dead and mutilated Vessels terrorize his nightmares, when voices call out, alarmed, catching his attention. He turns.

He freezes. Stares.

The Vessels were right there, huddled in a group as they slowly walked across the bridge. All of them. Together. They were there.

They were safe.

They were all scuffed up, splattered in the orangeish brown muk and smelling of ash, nicks and dents on their tiny dirty shells. Some of them looked worse for the wear, being supported or carried by others, leaking void from various injuries. The taller tri-horned one with an overgrown cloak had a nasty crack on it's head, their shortest horn just outright gone. It was messily bandaged, and they seemed to be in pain, but they were alive. Another, with two short pairs of horns on the side of their head, was clutching their chest, limping along with another who was missing half their curled horn.

Ghost supported the Pure Vessel, who looked utterly ravaged. cloak torn and stained orange, a deep crack through their right eye socket, empty space where their tiny left arm used to be. Ghost, Little Nightmare, supported a nasty crack down the middle of their mask, deep grooves in their horns like blade wounds and scorch marks searing their tattered cloak, nail shattered completely in half.

The Vessels stop when they see him, staring back. The King doesn't even realize he'd approached them until he was almost on top of them, staring down.

And then he realizes they were carrying something between them, but they're moving, shifting, spreading apart--

And presenting him with a large blade still wet with neon orange ichor.

A familiar blade, he knew was once attached to the Radiance.

He can only stare, as the Pure Vessel steps forward, dipping a tiny claw into the slowly congealing orange and writing slowly, "We ate the Light. No more sick dreams."

And it hits the King right in the gut that the Vessels had been listening to him talk about the Infection, heard him complain and worry over it. Had listened, and taken it upon themselves to try to get rid of it.

And they'd somehow succeeded. Somehow managed to find, to trap, to fight, to defeat her. Not unscathed, not without a cost, but without loosing any of their own. They’d all challenged a God, and killed her.

Had ripped out her gleaming blade, the symbol and embodiment of her power to cleave through dreams and minds, to take it with them.

To give it to him.

The Vessels push the bloodstained blade into his hands, and he stares at it for only a single second, before dumping it to the ground beside him without a care.

A twitch of surprise goes through the Vessels, and air of confusion and outrage, but he doesn't care; he lunges forwards and wraps his arms around as many of them as he can reach, pulling them tight to him and grabbing for yet more until he’s somehow got them all in his arms. Clinging to them. Burying his face among their stained shells and nicked horns, and sobbing.

Of course he cares about the death of the Radiance. The severity of that will hit him later, after he's had time to absorb it properly.

For now, the only thing he gives a damn about is the fact that his children are all safe, back home. Dirty, busted up, and in a world of trouble once he's done weeping with relief, but alive.

Nothing else mattered.

[madame-fear]

But….but my dear princess dumpling, my honey butter biscuit, my schmoopy love bug, my beautiful cookie kiss, my precious num nums, my baby sugar snap pea, my d-vine queen, my sweet honey badger, my honey bunny sugarplum, my peachy pie cuddle cake, my berry boo pixie, my beloved teacup?! Do you not like my new nicknames for you?! 🥺🥺🥺

* drops this and runs*

Oh my god, I was feeling quite down at almost 4 am and this is the first thing I saw when I opened Tumblr— I had to hold back a snort, YOU MADE MY NIGHT NONNIE AJSKEISIURUDJDKFKF IM LITERALLY HOWLING @ THIS 😭😭😭😭

yk what guys? you all have the cringy nickname pass, meaning you can all call me whoever you want AND I will happily accept it!!! dw my rosebud cookie kiss nutter butter shug captain hottie pants binkie stallion, I am in love with all your nicknames... sigh... 💍💍😍😍