#NO BECAUSE COOKED CARROTS ARE THE WORST

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ the "dying" wolverine ]❜

ft. logan howlett x gn! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ taking care of logan when he’s sick┊0.8k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, established relationship

➤ author's note: i’m feeling like shit so i’m making him suffer with me

what part of regenerative healing don’t you understand? it’s impossible for him to get sick in any capacity as his immune system is stronger than the adamantium in his body, so feel free to read any of the other logan fics written by all the amazing writers on this platform!!

but let’s say that he somehow contracted a special bug that managed to get past all that and managed to make him fall ill, requiring you to take care of him while wade goes on a mission to figure out what’s wrong with him…

this headstrong two-hundred-year mutant who can take stab wounds without flinching and is an invincible tank in battles will be the whinest son of the bitch. he always lets his guard down around you, but he’s the most vulnerable and immature that he’ll ever allow himself to be around anyone since he can’t remember the last time (or if he has ever in his life) felt so shitty. shivering despite being feverish and covered up in blankets which just made him sweaty and uncomfortable, an itchy nose that wouldn’t sneeze when he needed it to, coughing his lungs out every two minutes— it’s so alien to him.

when you finally show up to look after him, he’ll have uncharacteristically big puppy eyes as you gently place your hand on his forehead to gauge how bad it is. “how are you feeling, lo?”

“i feel like i’m going to fucking die.” there are several discarded tissues and water bottles overfilling the nearby trashcan, but it was clear that he had no idea how he was supposed to make himself feel better and suffering.

“i can tell,” you chuckle at how dramatic he sounds and it makes him frown, but he’s just so thankful that you’re here to take care of him (he doesn’t exactly trust al to do it, that woman is a bit too mysterious and cryptic for him, and the medicine she offered smelled funny even to his dulled senses). “let me go make you some soup.”

he doesn’t want you to leave at first because your cold skin feels so good against him, but he’ll lightly doze off for a bit now that he’s more comfortable and feels safer. don’t expect him to stay asleep for long though, he’ll get up from his little while you’re in the middle of cooking chicken vegetable soup to wrap his arms around you and rest his head on top of yours until you finish.

“why are there barely any vegetables in the fridge? i could only find half a carrot and wilted celery.”

“i don’t think anyone here eats that stuff.”

“logan, you need to eat your greens— all you guys do, how are all three of you in such good shape then?!”

“eh.”

he can’t make anything more complicated than butter noodles, wade sets nearly everything on fire, he feels slightly guilty eating the food made by an elderly blind lady when he’s already freeloading at the moment, and constantly ordering take-out becomes expensive. you’ve given some food in tupperware for him to eat up, but it isn’t quite the same. as if being sick didn’t make him miserable enough, he’s so fucking pissed that he couldn’t properly taste your freshly-cooked food and will make it known.

you scoff that it’s just soup and pour it out in a bowl for him to eat, but you’ll quickly find yourself spoon-feeding him. yes, his hands still work with perfectly fine motor functions. no, you’re not passing up the opportunity to baby him while he rolls his eyes (he’ll grunt at most and doesn’t say a word of protest, claiming that he’s merely allowing it since he’s too tired to fight with you over it and very glad no one could see it happening).

“here comes the airplane~”

“i’m a grown-ass man, don’t be ridiculous.”

“a grown-ass man without an ounce of whimsy in his life, open your fucking mouth and eat.”

this is one of the lower points in his life where he doesn’t quite understand why this is happening to him yet, so you obviously have give him as much affection as possible! keeping a cold glass of water nearby and a wet rag to dab on his face, he rests his head upon your thighs and you swear that you can hear him purring like a kitten. there’s not better pillow than his lover, soft, warm, and full of love as you hum a song to lull him to sleep.

“let’s get married one day…” he not sure how that slipped past his lips, it might be the fever talking for him, or the fact that he’s completely relaxed without any tension in his muscles and feeling himself falling in love all over again when you smile so sweetly at him

“okay, but you need to sleep and get better first.” you place a gentle kiss on his forehead until his eyes slowly drift shut, “i love you, logan.”

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[hyperfixat]

hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-

Anyway, have an amazing day!!

anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT 

i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this

warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(

and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;

/

You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center.  First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.

You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it.  There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but. 

Urgh. This?

It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.

Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the.  The stuff. 

Ah, nope.  You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.  

Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.

Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.  

It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.

/

…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.  

Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you?  What the hell is wrong with demons?  Why must the eat the worst things in the world?  Why… why… why?

Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else).  You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.

It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by.  Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom.  Most.

There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes.  You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.

Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence.  You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen.  They always seem willing to fetch you anything.  

You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them.  It’s just.  You want to throw up almost every meal.  (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him.  One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)

Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content.  Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.

This night was bound to happen at some point.  Your plate is uneatable.  It’s edible, just uneatable.  It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry.  You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.

Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food.  It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.

“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”  At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.

“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.

Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.

“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”  Which certainly isn’t a lie.  

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.

You cringe, “uhm, well.  I’m.”  You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.

“Honest answer?”  Satan prods.

“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?”  Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”  

“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now.  Give me a moment to word this properly.”

Satan scoffs. “Just say it.  Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”

“Damn, okay.  The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”

Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.

“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.

Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this?  We want you to feel at home here.”

“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”

“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.

“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds.  “You shoulda said something to me!  Do you even like half the snacks I give you?  I spent good Grimm on those!”

Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind.  “They got eaten.”

“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track.  “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.”  You nod under his sincere gaze.  “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery.  I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”  

As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket.  He gestures for you to come and take it.  You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand. 

“Order whatever you’d like.  My treat.”  There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.

[peachsayshi]

How would your yandere version of gojo react to someone who’s being sneaky to reader? Or just to someone who constantly messes with her? Have a nice day btw

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

gojo notices that you've been uncomfortable lately. he can't quite pinpoint what's bothering you, but he definitely can't keep ignoring the helpless look in your eyes.

"baby, what's wrong?" he asks one night.

you were peeling carrots, quietly preparing a delicious dinner to share with your lover. you started making these slow cooked meals about three weeks ago. comfort food, satoru thought to himself, but your dwindling enthusiasm over one of your favorite hobbies chips away at his heart.

you give him a small smile. "there's nothing wrong" you chirp, but your boyfriend grits his teeth at your pathetic lie.

you turn to glance back at the discarded orange ribbons, only to pause once again when you feel his large hand slowly caress the back of your palm.

"c'mon, you've got me all worried..." he insists, trying his best to reign in his frustration.

the front of your brows lift with concern, and he immediately leans forward to kiss away the tension. you breathe out a heavy sigh, carefully placing the peeler onto the cutting board before turning to face him. your fingers shake when you reach for the fabric of his shirt, and the pace of satoru's heart quickens at your odd behavior.

his mind runs rampant with the worst possible scenarios, but what he finally hears from you only fuels his anger.

he didn't know that you were being harassed by your new boss.

"he's just awful," you complain, shaking your head out of frustration, "he makes all these inappropriate comments, completely disregards any personal space that I have and leers every time I'm alone in the room with him. the whole thing makes me uncomfortable and I don't know what to do about it. I'm up for a promotion soon - I'm...worried if I say anything, then...then it might ruin everything I worked so hard for."

satoru's blood boils. his entire body feels unnaturally hot. he doesn't like that your voice sounds so small, so uncertain, and it blinds him with absolute rage.

the thought of another man having the audacity to ogle what belongs to him makes his stomach flip.

when your panicked eyes glances up at him from underneath your pretty lashes, is when he feels your grip tighten around his shirt.

"it's fine, satoru," you plea out of desperation, "I didn't want to tell because I don't want you to get upset about this. I'll be out of this department once I get my promotion. I just have to put up with his crap for a little while longer."

satoru doesn't have anything to say- he just stares at you with dead, cold eyes. his body is stiff when you stand on your tiptoes to brush your lips over his, and he only relaxes when he parts his lips to invite your tongue.

"you're not mad at me, are you?" you murmur, and he instantly shakes his head no.

"I'm just upset that you're having such a hard time," he exhales, and finds your waist to give you a reassuring squeeze. "I promise I'm not mad."

he eased your mind, however, it didn't stop the war waging inside his own.

unfortunately for him, he is still satoru gojo - the man has so much power and influence as the head of his clan, that he can't exactly just walk up to the piece of shit and knock his teeth out.

after all, he had to play by the rules of dealing with a non sorcerer.

one call to the ceo would easily solve the problem, but that option felt far too easy for him. instead, he spent every spare moment digging deep into the man who was stupid enough to fuck around with you. he gathered every ounce of information that he could find to potentially ruin his life, and then used it.

an envelope sent by an "anonymous" person was dropped off to your boss's home, revealing to his wife the series of texts between him and his many, many mistresses. satoru delighted in finding out that he was soon kicked out and living at a hotel.

that's when satoru began the fun little mind games. he would show up in the middle of the night knocking on the door of your boss's room before disappearing. he did it repeatedly for days, until the man began looking visibly distressed.

satoru would randomly appear at the foot of his bed, standing there like a ghost in the night until the man would wake up in sheer terror, but by the time the lights were on, the sorcerer had already vanished.

satoru would call him rat all hours but would never speak a word. he smiled with amusement when the man eventually broke down, begging to whoever it was on the receiving end to please leave him alone.

satoru would follow him from the office back to his hotel room every single night, keeping a safe distance to ensure he remained hidden in the shadows, all the while gleaming with pride as he watched the man shake with fear.

you were none the wiser to your boyfriends menacing shenanigans.

you came home one evening with a smile plastered on your face, a smile that satoru missed dearly, and he pretended to act pleasantly surprised.

"did you have a good day, angel?" he asks with a gentle kiss.

"I did actually!"

"that asshole isn't giving you a hard time anymore, right?" your boyfriend questions, embellishing his concern while feigning ignorance.

"actually, he backed off, but I definitely think it's because he's preoccupied with his upcoming divorce. he's been in really terrible shape lately..."

satoru shrugs his shoulders with indifference, "can't say I feel sorry for him..."

"I heard through the grapevine that he's submitted his resignation letter. although, it could just be petty office gossip..."

the corner of satoru's mouth twitches into a grin. he playfully taps the tip of your nose before leaning down to kiss your cheek. "well, all I can say is good fucking riddance."

please check pinned for requests x

[sweet-honey-tears]

⦿ Home/Lock Screen ⦿

What the BHNA boys lock/Home Screen look like?

Characters: Kiribaku, ShinKami, Dabi x GN!Reader

Hi everyone, back again! This concept wasnt requested but I got asked about a certain character combination -so yeah! I hope you like it( I won’t say who you are but I hope you enjoy it!😊) each character has a different Lock Screen/Home screen! I hope you enjoy! And as always, request are always welcomed! Bye~🤍

Kirishima + Bakugou

» Lock Screen «

Bakugou’s Lock Screen is back from UA. It's a picture of you sitting at your desk. You're tipping over in your chair. One of your hands in the air and the other trying to grab onto the desk. You have a leg leaving the chair like you're kicking a soccer ball. The other leg is trying to touch the ground again. You have this look of pure panic on your face. And in the corner, you can see the quick moment(a blurry flash) of Bakugou running over to help you. He looks almost angry like he’s about to yell ‘dumbass!’. Denki took the picture, trying to catch a photo of Kirishima with his concentration face on. But instead, it’s a picture of Kirishima, mi-yell, and a large arm reaching over his desk to try and stop you from tipping over. His eyes are wide.Katsuki smiles every time he sees it, it’s just so stupid and funny. It reminds him of both of you.

» Home Screen «

Bakugou’s Home Screen is a more recent photo. It’s of you and Kirishima. You have Bakugou's old skull shirt on, the faded material hanging off you. You lay against Kirishima's side, your head resting on his shoulder. Kiri’s arm is slung around you, his head slightly tilted back. You’re both fast asleep. And Bakugou is pretty sure he can see drool on Kirishima's chin. There’s a half eaten bowl of popcorn sandwiches between you two. And an All Might blanket covering you and Kirishima's lap. Balugou keeps it as his home screen because it’s more personal to him. Something he feels is sentimental- something he doesn’t want his fans to see by accident.

» Lock Screen «

Kirishima's Lock Screen is a picture of you and Bakougu cooking. You’re both standing side by side at the stove wearing aprons as you work. Yet Bakugou’s hand is in your back pocket, his thumb hanging out in case he needs his other hand. The photo only shows the back of your heads as the both of you do something so… domestic. But at that moment, you both kept shoving each other, talking about the latest villain. Trying to compete with each other on who could cut the most carrots.

» Home Screen «

Kirishima's Home Screen and pictures of you, himself, and Bakugou at a waterpark. Your body is sandwiched between theirs. Kirishima has one large arm wrapped around your waist and Bakugou has one wrapped around your shoulders. His fingers grazed Kirishima's broad shoulders. You have your hands resting on their lower backs. Both you and Kirishima are smiling, and Bakugou is grinning. His dimples showing up.

🔥 Dabi 🔥

» Lock Screen «

Toya’s Lock Screen is of you eating an Oreo. It was right after a rather shitty mission and you're just sitting at the bar, eating Oreos. You still have soot on your face, and small scratches, but here you are- at the bar eating cookies. You have it cracked in half, so one side is a cookie and the filling and the other is just a cookie. Your front teeth are sunk into the cream, and there are clear drag marks from you scooping the filling out with your teeth like a shovel. The best part of the photo is you’re flipping off the camera. You look angry and Dabi finds the scene fucking hilarious and adorable. Like a toddler, just eating cookies angrily. You're giving Dabi the worst side-eye he’s ever seen.

“You want some milk too”

“Shut up”

» Home Screen «

If you’re wondering, his Home Screen is a very old photo of his siblings he found in the paper. It’s personal. Hidden. You understand.

⚡️Denki + Shinso 💤

» Lock Screen «

Denki’s Lock Screen is little Eri dressed up as a pikachu. Yes, he has pretty much claimed her as his little sister.

» Home Screen «

Denki’s Home Screen is of You, Shinso, and himself at the last concert you went to. You’re on Shinso’s shoulders, an arm in the air yelling along with the lyrics. You have one of Denki’s chokers on and eyeliner that he drew on you. Your ripped band t-shirt is pulled upwards at your movement.

Shinso has a black band shirt on with his long-sleeve white and dark purple striped shirt underneath. It hugs his arms tight, leading to the loose second layer. His ringed fingers rest on your legs, ensuring you stay upright and safe. He has, his snake bites in ( he usually takes out due to work) and his black stud and off screen your hand is cupping his face right behind his ear. He’s smiling at the camera, while you're completely oblivious.

Denki’s holding his phone to catch the two of you and a section of himself. His lighting bolt and chain piercings are on full display to the camera. He’s smiling brightly, a little tipsy but extremely happy.

» Lock Screen «

Shinso Home Screen and Lock Screen is one picture split up. His Lock Screen is of you and Eri. Eri sitting crisscrossed in front of you as you do her hair. Twisting the blue-gray strands into a space bun. A brush, bobby pins, and red hair clips lay next to you. The both of you are laughing and looking off into the distance. Where in the cover of the screen, two hands are reaching out. The fingernails were painted vibrant pink. There are plastic rings on them, some from Eri’s old toy chest. One is a huge fake diamond and the other is a cheaply painted plastic cat face.

» Home Screen «

Shinso’s Home Screen is the rest of the photo. Denki is laying on his stomach, his sweet smile peeking out from over his shoulders. He’s wearing one of Eri's cat headbands, causing his golden hair to spike in all different directions. He has a temporary tattoo on his cheek, a yellow lightning bolt that Eri picked out for him. Shinso had one too. A black back on the top of his hand. One of the best parts about it is that it’s a Live Photo. When Shinso presses down on the Lock Screen, your shoulders move as you laugh and Eris' confused face breaks out a larder smile. Her hands clasped as her eyes close in laughter. The hands on the corner of the screen move as if showing off the rings on them.

When Shinso presses down on the Denki portion of the picture, Denki's mouth moves. The audio is of Denki speaking in a very sassy female voice. ‘How ya doing?’

[azriels-shadowsinger]

imagine azriel walking in on reader using truth-teller to cut up veggies and fruit, his beloved and legendary obsidian sword, who had slaughtered countless of enemies, reduced to a cooking knife hacking cucumbers and fruit…😭😭

this is so fucking funny he would not know what to do

Azriel had just dropped all of his stuff on the table when he got home because he desperately needed to go bathe right away

You were in the kitchen cooking soup for the two of you for dinner

And when you were about to cut up the carrots you saw truth teller on the table and thought it would be kinda funny

Azriel comes into the kitchen and doesn’t notice for a minute because he’s too busy picking up his things from the table

But when he can’t find his blade, he looks around and sees truth teller in your hand being used to cut carrots

He just stands there with his mouth hanging open not even knowing what to say

You try to hide your laugh at his reaction while you toss the carrots into the soup pot

Because cmon… the infamous truth teller blade cutting veggies? That’s hilarious.

Azriel disagrees, obviously

He rushes over and grabs the blade, looking at you like you’re crazy

“I’ve used that to... I don’t want to eat the blood of the worst males in Pyrithian in my soup!”

Obviously, you scrubbed the hell out of that thing first because who knows where it has been, but you decide to keep messing with him

“It’s probably fine. It will cook out, right?”

That only makes him speechless again and he tries to fish out the contaminated carrots from the pot with a spoon

You finally decide to take mercy on him and admit it was a joke

Once dinner is ready he refuses to eat the soup

You try to eat a bite, but the mental image of where truth teller has been is too gross, so you both decide to go out for dinner

He never leaves truth teller out on the table anymore

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 7

The cafeteria was… chaotic, on the best of days. You had to have nerves of steel and endless patience to work in those kitchens, they couldn’t just walk around with a list of options for Omegas to choose from for their days ahead, it was a ‘they want this right this minute and it could change in five so be quick!!’ kind of deal.

They were dealing with Heat-minded Omegas, which meant they might as well have been dealing with a whole building full of pregnant people. Cravings right left and centre and none of them made any sense to anyone with working tastebuds.

The only thing they consistently had, was carbs.

It meant they had to get creative sometimes.

Owens had been an absolute genius and had made sure there were a few fridges and cabinets stocked at all times with the base items to make up the ‘weirder shit’ that couldn’t be made on the fly. Like Celery sticks, peanut butter, Nutella, carrots, etc.

Anything vaguely phallic shaped was cut up into chunks, slices, or mashed because heat-minded Omegas were sometimes very stupid.

The cabinets also stocked treats too, various snack foods, chips, candy, cakes, etc. It was mostly carb loading foods, things high in carbohydrates which Omegas needed and often craved during the second stage of their heat.

Owens funded that one himself. Took the cost of whatever went into those fridges and those cabinets right out of his own pocket because it wasn’t industry standard across the clinics to have them, so the government wouldn’t fund the addition to the kitchens.

But that brilliant idea had taken a lot of stress off of the four cooks they had on staff, two betas, one Alpha her Omega mate. All of whom had been so close to quitting before the fridges and cabinets were installed. Overworked and underpaid.

This meant that Steve’s trip to the cafeteria was a quick one. He grabbed snack foods, a few veggie options, and picked up one of each tub of Nutella and Peanut butter, worst case scenario, Eddie wouldn’t want any of it, but at the very least he’d appreciate Steve bringing them to him. Like a good Alpha, providing for his Omega.

He put it all into a little basket, and carried it out with him, paying little mind to the looks he was getting.

He knew what he’d almost done. He knew how close he’d come to doing something he couldn’t take back, and no matter how much Eddie had asked for him to do it… whether he’d be happy about it after his heat cleared… that wouldn’t make a difference.

He’d have assaulted an Omega during their heat.

So he took the looks, kept his head down and quickly made his way back to Eddie’s room, where sure enough two Betas had been posted outside to act as guards given their natural ability to neutralise both heat and rut pheromones with their own.

Alphas were good for strongarming someone, but a Beta would be more useful in a pheromone based frenzy.

“Harrington” one of them greeted him, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought they wouldn’t let him in, but neither of them stopped him from unlocking the door, and neither of them said another word against him going inside.

They were there just in case, to protect Eddie.

Eddie, who was still asleep when he walked in, just as he’d expected him to be, Eddie who’d pulled a blanket free from the structure of the nest to curl around, who seemed to stir the closer Steve got to the nest until he was grumbling, sleepy, his eyes still partially closed but uncurling from his blanket to reach out to him with a soft “Alphaaa” that made Steve’s heart clench.

“M’here Eddie, wakey wakey, Omega, m’here” he had permission to enter the nest already, but he still waited just long enough for Eddie to reach out to him. “I got you some things, Eds” speaking softly, he climbed in, lowering himself to sit beside the sleepy Omega, who peeked at him through thick dark brown curls.

Curls that Steve found himself gently brushing aside behind his ear to see that pretty face underneath, pretty, awake, and smiling at him.

“You got me things?” God he was beautiful. How had he never noticed how beautiful this ridiculous Omega was? How had he been so blind? "Is my big strong Alpha providing for me?"

Focus Steve, he told himself, do not let him rile you up. “Mmhm, some food, snacks really, I wasn’t sure what you’d be hungry for yet, so I got a variety of things just in case” he’d have brought the entire goddamn cafeteria for him had he known it’d make him light up like a few snacks did.

Eddie was up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, smiling, “Oh god m’starving… how’d you know I’d be hungry?” Steve didn’t stop him from grabbing the basket, smiling in warm amusement as he watched Eddie rifle through the goodies picking out the things he actually wanted, thankful that among the things, there were actually things he’d want.

“Stage two. Owens… the director here, he… said something, that how your reactions to things are like you’re skipping heat stages in response to finally having an alpha nearby.” He wouldn’t mention the scent mate thing, not yet anyway, he wasn’t about to get his hopes up and Eddie didn’t need that confusion on top of everything. “I figured since the nest is made up and we’re comfortable with each other, you’d probably jump into the second stage before the days up, very uncommon but not impossible apparently, so you’d start getting really hungry pretty soon.”

“Having it broken down like stages feels weird, like… clinical I guess.”

“We are in a clinic.”

“Touché.” Eddie opened a bag of chips, content to eat those for the time being, but an expression of thought still lingered on his face as he ate before he asked ��Did… did you get into trouble?”

“No, I would have… had I not stopped myself, but Owens has faith in my ability to keep my hands and other parts to myself.”

“Boooo” Steve laughed, ducking his head in bashful amusement “think if you got my legal guardian’s permission you’d be able to—”

“Your uncle can't consent for you, not that anyone in their right mind would ask him, plus he’s not even your legal guardian anymore, you’re older than me, Eddie, you’re your own legal guardian.” Unfortunately that meant he was shit out of luck. “I can hold you though… if you’d like that?”

“…Will you?” In response, Steve opened his arms up, giving Eddie the perfect little spot to crawl and snuggle himself back into, tucking his legs in and leaning back into Steve’s warm embrace, releasing the softest hum of contentment as Steve buried his face into the junction between neck and shoulder and just breathed, his arms squeezing gently around him.

He still smelled earthy, like camping in the forest, dirt, moss, everything Steve loved about morning jogs through the woods, or hikes into the mountains, the smells. It filled his senses and left him rumbling, content, purring into Eddie’s neck, delighting at the sound of Eddie’s own matching purr as he relaxed into the embrace, only the crunch of chips breaking those little purrs. “Feel better?” Steve hummed into his neck.

Eddie snuggled himself back, as if trying to climb inside his Alpha, snuggling his head up under Steve’s chin, remnants of sleep still clinging to his mind making it easy to fall into a comfortable doze, even with his chips in his arms. “Mmnhm… promise you’ll do this when I get out of here too?”

“You’ll have to fight me off with a stick.”

“Duel at sunset? I might surrender very quickly if I get cuddles out of it.” Steve pressed a light kiss into the top of Eddie’s hair then nuzzled into his curls.

“Then I accept your surrender ahead of schedule and offer cuddles for as long as you want them.”

“Is forever a good amount of time?”

“Forever is the perfect amount of time.”

Part 9

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: some swearing, but otherwise a dripping sugar

Really, in this chapter nothing happens, yet I got overheated just writing it and had to refill sugar bc this sucked all the sweetness from my system. It's too much fluff for me🤯😵‍💫

Part XXIV | Part XXVI

After both of you calmed down, Tamlin insisted on carrying you back, claiming that it was too dark and you could get hurt. You were in awe of his strength. It was quite a long walk yet he wasn't panting, not even broke in sweat. It seemed as if he was carrying a feather, easily jumping over fallen trees and shallow holes you didn't see. He seemed to be unmoved by what just happened between you.

However, you were a different case. Only mere minutes passed since you basically told him you loved him, despite the mess in your head and heart, not fully comprehending the weight of such words and what it would do to you. Every nerve in your body was tense, sensation of his body touching yours leaving you breathless. Your heartbeats were too loud even to your own ears, your palms were sweating. You clenched them into fists where they were resting on Tamlin's shoulders, praying you wouldn't sweat through his shirt. You were so nervous that you couldn't enjoy this moment at all and when he finally put you down at the threshold of your cottage, you were happy it was over.

Too embarrassed to look him in eye, you swiftly walked in, washed your hands and once again picked up the knife to finish the cutting. You were relieved to find out that he made sure to remove the pot from the fire and cleaned the blood before he ran after you.

Tamlin watched every your move so intensely that the tingling sensation on the back of your neck was almost unbearable. You took in a deep breath, readying to get back to work.

Tamlin's long fingers wrapped around your hand, gently taking the knife from you.

"Let me do this," he murmured near your ear. His rich deep voice combined with tickling of his breath on a sensitive skin of your neck made your heart miss several beats.

You blinked, trying to get over the fog of your hazy mind. Whatever you felt around him before, grew suddenly more stronger. It wasn't the first time you were in love, but this was so different from what you'd experienced in the past. Could it be because he accepted your feelings but didn't share them? He said he needed you, yet needing someone wasn't the same as loving them. And he didn't say he loved you.

You just speechlessly nodded, gazing up at him. He chuckled. Another wave of heat climbed up your neck, settling down on your cheeks. It was a long time since you heard him laughed like this. It was hard to believe that just mere minutes ago he was broken and full of self loathing. This situation, it was so..confusing.

High Lord watched you with eyes full of mischief, corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You quickly stepped aside and putting the pot back on fire you pretended to be too engaged in mixing and adding seasoning.

"That colour suits you," Tamlin cooed while cutting carrots. You even forgot how to stir the contents of the pot.

"Carefully. Don't burn our dinner," he teased you.

This was the Tamlin who danced with you on Solstice, who liked to tease you and laughed happily and often. Although his smile still carried a hint of shadows and caution was present in his bright gaze, he seemed to be really back. On one side you were happy for that, but on the other hand, it was too nerve-wrenching.

You didn't know how you managed to finish cooking the soup. Not remembering what you actually put in you sceptically took a spoon to taste it, expecting the worst. You were pleasantly surprised that despite your absent-mindedness it was edible even delicious.

"May I taste it too?" Tamlin suddenly stood next to you with bowls.

"Sure," you stuttered, offering him the spoon, but he didn't take it. He just stood there waiting with half-open mouth.

Shakily exhaling you filled the spoon again, cooled the hot liquid and offered it to him. Without breaking the gaze he leaned in. Your sight fell to his perfectly shaped lips, the way they closed around and smoothly slid down the spoon leaving it clean.

"Delicious," he licked a droplet from his bottom lip.

"Yeah," you sighed still gazing at his mouth. He grinned. Realizing how it sounded, you blushed fiercely.

"Would you set the table? I'll bring bowls," he purred playfully.

Welcoming the offered way out, you took spoons and glasses and put the distance between your bodies. Room suddenly felt too hot, so you opened window and looked out.

Cool night breeze caressed your burning face and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. What was wrong with you? Why your heart couldn't calm down? It was just Tamlin, the very same person you had spent months with before your life turned upside down. The very same person you held when he felt bad and needed help. The same male who held you at night after nightmares haunted you, who smiled at you, caressed you, hugged, danced with you... You hid face in your palms, scolding your mind.

"Everything alright there?" Tamlin asked softly, watching you.

"Yes, I just need fresh air," you called back over your shoulder.

For the rest of the evening he didn't tease you anymore. He helped you clean up after the dinner and then you two spent some time sitting in your separate armchairs, sipping the tea and reading. It was so relaxing moment that you wondered whether you were only imagining all the things before.

However when the time to go to bed came, Tamlin didn't bid you goodnight. He stood up and trailed after you to the stairs. You were too tired and noticed it only once you were halfway up the stairs. You spun to face him and found him hesitating with hand on railing and one foot on the step.

"What's wrong?" you asked him, wondering why he didn't go to his bed as usual.

His eyes looked you up and down and then wandered behind you to the door of your bedroom.

"I-.." he bit on his lower lip. Your brows rose, you blinked waiting. "I wonder if I could sleep with you tonight."

"Sleep with me?" you repeated, your mind already giving you all kinds of ideas, one more embarrassing than the other. You felt warmth pooling between your legs and you shifted uncomfortably.

Tamlin probably felt the change in your scent. His eyes widened and he..blushed. It was very adorable sight. It was just a slight pink tint of his cheeks, but it caused your body heat rose even more. You again shifted and looked down suddenly finding your feet to be very interesting.

"I-.. I didn't want to imply anything inappropriate," he stuttered, ashamed. His scent grew stronger now.

"I meant to sleep together like sleep together. Fuck," he swore under his breath, stumbling over the words. He ran fingers through his long golden strands in frustration and inhaled deeply.

"What I meant is," he started slowly, taking time with his next words, "to sleep next to each other, with space in between us if it makes you more comfortable."

"Or as until now," he added in a smaller voice.

Tight embrace, enveloped in his pleasant scent, his hands on you, warmth of his body seeping into yours. Yes, that's what you wanted. You didn't even need to think about that.

Your mind brought out the imagine of his lips. How would they taste like? What would they feel like? You shook your head, convincing yourself that that wasn't what you really wanted.

"Fine," you whispered to the empty space between you and ran up the rest of the steps. "But give me a moment."

You'd never been this nervous. After changing into the nightgown which was already quite challenging because your hands wouldn't stop shaking, you brushed your hair and then again and again.

You were going to just sleep, nothing else would happen. You had to repeat this words in your mind at least thousands time, but it didn't work. With wildly beating heart you climbed to the bed, covered yourself with blanket and called to the too silent house.

The door opened and closed, mattress dipped under his weight. Slowly he slid under the blanket next to you. Your bed was too narrow for two people, so whether you wanted or no, your bodies were touching. Tamlin was lying on his side facing you, you were facing the window, your back to him.

Even without seeing him, you were aware of his every breath, his broad chest brushing your back. You felt his eyes on you, heard his every swallow and his heart racing just as fast as yours.

You were certain you wouldn't be able to fall asleep like this and wondered how you could sleep so soundly every previous night.

Sheets rustled when he moved, lightly touching your shoulder.

"May I?" His deep but soft voice vibrated through your body, your eyes closed with delight on its own accord.

You just nodded. He so slowly wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you closer to his front. You had to bite down on your lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape you.

His other arm slid under your head, replacing the pillow.

"This way it should be more comfortable." His breath fanned over your hair to your face. It smelled of tea you drank before going to bed.

He started humming a soothing melody, his hand lightly running up and down your stomach in lazy small circles. It worked wonders and you finally relaxed.

"What you said back in the forest, did you really mean it?" he asked when your eyelids became heavier, sleep slowly overcoming you.

"Yes, each word," you mumbled sleepily.

You could feel his face in the crook of your neck, gently rubbing against your skin. You chuckled when his breath tickled you.

"Thank you," he whispered to your hair, now both arms embracing you firmly. "I.. like you, too."

Those were the last words you heard before drifting into a dreamless sleep, smiling happily. Tamlin followed you soon after.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Iggy

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The wild child, the mad lad, the resident scientist himself! I think about him a regular amount.

Left-handed.

His powers are more plant-based, and he's very good at controlling them, but inventing is a big hobby of his that plays into how he attacks. To put it in other terms, he's got Artificer software running on Druid hardware.

His eye color is a rare mutation of his draconic koopa biology, though it does give him some issues with his vision, hence the glasses.

He's definitely wacky, but he's not actually ‘demented’ or ‘insane’ like most think he is. That being said, he likes to play up the whole ‘mad scientist' act around other people because he enjoys their reactions. Maybe a little too much…

April Fool's is a banned celebration in the castle because of him. Not that it stops him from pulling pranks on any other day of the year.

His favorite fruits are more tropical things; kiwis, pineapples, and starfruit.

Prefers Chain Chomps and other animals to people, as he's not great with conversation nor predicting people. Rumor has it that he can actually speak with them, but whether it's true remains to be seen.

He occasionally gets nonverbal when an experiment goes awry, or when he’s so upset he can’t find the words for it. His siblings check in on him every once in a while, and he does end up speaking again after a few hours / a day.

His hair naturally falls into a mohawk like in his earlier depictions; he just likes styling it back to differentiate himself from Lemmy.

Doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but he's a big fan of savory things. That said, he does have a fondness for carrot cake.

He actually made his glasses when he realized his eyes didn’t see well with traditional lenses… and because he needed something that was fireproof, blast-proof, and freeze-proof, just to name a few. When he realized he could market it on a professional basis, Iggy’s Glass was created.

He's a big fan of his veggies! He's not a strict vegetarian, nor is he opposed to meat whatsoever, he just likes his greens more. Like I said, Druid hardware.

Speaking of food, if he's craving something, he often decides what to have not by flavor, but by texture. He looooves crunchy stuff or things he can rip into, like sandwiches with hard bread or jerky sticks.

He helps Wendy with her baking hobby! Baking is just another form of chemistry, after all, and he likes having something to do with his hands. He doesn't like cooking much, though. Too much guesswork.

He makes so many things for his siblings for holidays and birthdays, and is always touchingly surprised if they get him something personal or practical (not that he shows it).

He got Morton a camera for his tenth birthday to support his scrapbooking hobby, and is secretly very pleased that Morton takes such good care of it. He also denies crying when Morton showed him the page he made of the two of them with the photos he took.

His handwriting is the worst out of the seven. Given how fast he needs to write to keep up with his experiments, and his habit of using short phrases that only he understands, it's really legible to just him.

He genuinely is pretty funny. His humor is skewed towards shitposter memes thanks to Roy and Larry, but his sense of comedic timing to drop a bomb or punchline is perfect.

Will respond to highly cursed memes and images along the lines of "Oh, that's AWFUL. I LOVE IT."

His currency is amusement. You wanna get on his good side or impress him, making him laugh. This is harder then it sounds; if he can tell you’re trying too hard, he’ll just blast you with sarcasm.

Ludwig is teaching him how to play the accordion. It’s just as chaotic as it sounds.

He's a big fan of bad B-movie horrors, making fun of them while also unironically enjoying how terrible they are. He's got a few posters of them in his room.

He was the dog version of a warrior cats kid. I'm sorry, but it's true.

He likes to collect bugs! It's not a very big collection, seeing as the Darklands is uninhabitable by a majority of insects, but he likes learning and talking about them to anyone interested.

One of the most terrifying generals out of the Koopalings to the troops; not because he’s especially mean or strict or anything, but because you’ll have no idea how he’ll react to something. He is, however, perhaps also one of the the least military-inclined out of his siblings, much preferring his lab to a war room.

Will wear the UGLIEST shirts with zero concerns. Will also wear socks and sandals. Wendy loathes him.

Doesn't like coffee; the taste makes him nauseous. He's more of a soda guy, anyway.

He and Larry are huge sci-fi nerds, and enjoy bonding over comics and mecha anime and going to cons together. Also a big fan of horror; the more gore, the better.

Cannot draw people for shit. Animals and plants he can do okay at, but more in an anatomical kind of way then any artistic sort of style. Blueprints, however, are a different story.

Genuinely likes pistachio ice cream. None of his siblings know why, nor do they want to know.

Like Lemmy, he's very much a fan of pulling a prank and doing the "ohhhh I'm just a little guy, and it's my birthday, I'm a lil birthday boooy" routine. Unlike Lemmy, this rarely works for him.

His lab is his safe haven; it may be a mess in some places, but it's his mess. If you touch something you shouldn't, be prepared to get whacked.

Can and will pick up bugs and eat them. Bonus if they’re dipped in chocolate.

He doesn’t have any particular favorite flowers, but he's got a side hobby of cross-breeding and mutating plants for both science and in the sense of, in his own terms, “fucking around and finding out.”

[psiroller]

gaymers preview

i blacked out and what is this

au where everyone is playing an mmo that simulates dungeon meshi world but theyre all regular dudes named like larry and charles and stuff. the worst thing they do in this excerpt is cuss. im going to go finish chapter 4 but a friend needed a juicy carrot dangled in their face to finish their job applications. i am the picture of benevolence

cw: excessive gamer references and lingo

“Sorry, guys,” Laios mumbled into his crisp, high-fidelity mic. “I drew aggro early again.”

Chilchuck’s sigh came out in a raspy crackle. “We’re four rooms behind you, moron, what am I supposed to do about that?”

“I’m kiting the dragon back to you,” said Laios, hammering at his mechanical keyboard to try to get his speed buff cast while navigating the winding dungeon instance.

“You’re what!?” Chilchuck’s busted old Logitech headset clipped due to the volume. Laios’ hand slipped and he parried needlessly, locking him in place for a fraction of a second, the overlapping footfalls of the red dragon growing louder behind him. His ears were sweating under the cuffs.

“Laios, take the path on your right and keep running,” Marcille instructed, exasperated. “This is why you stay with the party, okay?”

“But we were talking for so long, I got bored,” Laios whined.

“Then why are you on the RP server, dumbass!?” Chilchuck hissed. Laios misfired a spell, alerting the party to his presence. The spatial audio on his headphones alerted him to his party moving up the tunnel perpendicular to the path he’d been assigned, chasing after the dragon.

“Because this is the one Marcille is on, Falin,” Laios jeered. Falin sent a winking smiley in party chat.

“Don’t deflect, Laios. You’re in deep shit if you die,” Chilchuck growled. Laios’ brainwaves flatlined as the dragon caught up to him, dousing him in crustily-textured flames that obscured his character. He kept aimlessly running, finding himself sliding along a wall once the flames cleared. The dragon wound up for its deadly right-armed strike and chunked a hefty amount of his health bar. Just as he regained his bearings, the dragon galloped and slid into a tail swipe that he managed to parry—it bought him just enough time for Falin to heal him, a glittery golden glow enveloping the screen. Laios slumped into the headrest of his gaming chair and breathed.

“Oh my God, thank you thank you thank you thank you—”

Another smiley, this one without the teasing wink. One day they’d talk her into turning her mic on, but she always worried about breathing too loudly. The dragon spun in the opposite direction for its follow-up attack, staggering Laios despite another successful parry. Chilchuck’s scrawny rouge dashed in after everyone else, buffed to the nines and firing poison arrows from the mouth of the arena. Marcille hammered the dragon with a barrage of fireballs, so overleveled for this dungeon that the dragon’s fire resistance was negated by the sheer amount of damage. A bunch of pre-cooked meals appeared in his inventory, dropped onto him by Senshi. The dragon turned its ire upon the dwarf, being within melee range, and hit him with a jet of flame—his health dropped by fractions of fractions. He ate another tail swipe without moving, his stout character waving at Laios and dancing a delightful high-kicking jig. The dragon tried in vein to get him below 75% of his max health before it all healed back in a few seconds. He continued tanking all the attacks, ramming the dragon with his shield every time the cooldown reset, and Laios hopped back into the fray. They alternated taking heavy swings, keeping the dragon stunlocked and helpless as Marcille charged her nuke spell, the one that made Chilchuck’s shitty Gateway lag for minutes on end.

Ka-choom. The dragon had collapsed before the animation was completed, the particle effects whipping away to reveal the corpse, glittering to indicate there was loot to be claimed. Laios cheered along with the bombastic fanfare; he heard Falin whoop from her room next door.

“Well done, newbies,” Senshi laughed. His beard brushed against his microphone, a strangely comforting sound. “You had me worried for a second!”

“Why? It’s just a game,” Laios said, clueless. “I’d just respawn, wouldn’t I?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t think our characters like dying very much,” Chilchuck said flatly. He’d dropped character, knowing that the night was drawing to a close.

“That, and it’s a huge hassle to run all the way from the start of the instance to come get your corpse,” Marcille huffed. “We’d have to wait for you to come back so you wouldn’t miss experience or loot… and Senshi has to log off in thirty minutes.”

“Gotta prep for the breakfast rush,” he said with grim resignation.

Laios briefly tabbed out to check his system clock. “At two in the morning?”

“Three here, son. I got to get the croissants rolled before five so they’re in the oven by five thirty, or the kids who come here to mooch off my wifi will buy something more than the cheapest coffee I have.”

“Oh.” Laios scratched his cheek. “Well, uh, have a good day at work?”

Senshi laughed, raspy and warm. “Someone’s never worked food service. Take care, everyone.” He accepted his share of the loot, giving away anything that couldn’t be crafted into a meal, and blinked out of the instance. When they emerged from the dungeon, he was long gone.

“I think I’m calling it here, too,” said Marcille. “Great work, you two. Until our next adventure!”

Her character bowed, and she too faded away.

I think this is a good stopping point, Falin typed. Laios smirked. “Oh yeah, I bet.”

>:( Don’t stay up too late, big brother! You have an exam in the morning.

Laios rolled his eyes, but he typed the emote shortcut to wave her off. Falin logged out. All that remained of his guild at this ungodly hour was Chilchuck, his character sat on the ground, likely checking the stats on the loot he’d acquired. He didn’t back out of the call; Laios could hear a long, whistling inhale, a holding of breath, and a satisfied exhale. He’d already lit up his post-raid cigarette.

“Well, uh, sorry for that,” Laios laughed. His chair squeaked as he shifted around in it. “I’m used to games where you can just run in and start pummeling the bad guys.”

Another long inhale. “What kind of games do you play? Call of Duty?”

“Ew, no,” Laios said, nose wrinkled. “I like Monster Hunter.”

Chilchuck snorted.

“What? Not good enough for you?”

“Can’t say it’s my kind of game, no,” Chilchuck said. There was a hint of a smile in his voice. “I know a girl that plays it. She loves it. But I guess I like more of a storyline in mine.”

“Ooh. Do you play JRPGs? Final Fantasy?”

Chilchuck barked out a laugh. “Final Fantasy was never my style either. I guess I prefer those old ones based on Dungeons and Dragons. That’s why I gravitated to this game.”

Laios sat his character down next to Chilchuck, loathe to log off but too tired to tackle his solo quests.

“Stuff like Divinity and Baldur’s Gate, then?”

“Yeah, Baldur’s Gate, that’s the one.” Chilchuck sounded a little brighter on the line. “So you’ve got some taste, eh?”

“Never played it.”

“Ah.” Chilchuck took another drag. “Elder Scrolls?”

“I played Skyrim,” Laios said. Chilchuck sniffed.

“Of course,” he grumbled. “Morrowind? Oblivion?”

“I always wanted Oblivion, but my mom wouldn’t let me buy it. Witchcraft.”

“That’s a shame,” Chilchuck hummed. “It’s good. A bitch to get running on modern machines, but I think it holds up.”

“How long have you been gaming?” Laios asked.

“Since the  late eighties, early nineties.” Laios gasped, and Chilchuck laughed it off. The sound made Laios buzz. “Yeah, yeah, I’m old, get it out of your system.”

“That’s so cool! You’re into retro stuff?”

“I guess that’s what the stuff I grew up with counts as now,” Chilchuck sighed. “I heard someone call Aerosmith an ‘oldie’ and almost had a cardiac event.”

“You are old, then.”

“Yep. But I also got to play Fallout when it first came out. That ending was nuts. I’m glad I didn’t get spoiled for it.”

“The old, isometric Fallout games? You like those? I like Fallout.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you played Fallout 3?”

“Shooting people’s heads off in VATS is fun,” Laios said giddily.

“Sure it is,” Chilchuck drawled, and Laios had the sinking feeling he’d given the wrong answer. “New Vegas?”

“I was never into cowboys,” Laios admitted. “Never tried it.”

Chilchuck clicked his tongue. “God. I got some things to teach you.”

Laios sat ramrod straight in his chair.

“I’d—I’d like that,” he sputtered, before he could second-guess it. There was a long pause as Chilchuck polished off the last of his cigarette, a distorted shuffling sound as he moved to stamp out the butt.

“Yeah?” Chilchuck’s voice was low and warm, the hiss of his terrible mic like the soft noise of a record player. “I guess I could dig around in my boxes and rip a few CDs for you. For the sake of education.”

Laios was no stranger to wrestling with his rig to play older games. He had a PSX emulator for Monster Rancher that he’d managed to get to read discs properly, and some old PC simulator games that they just didn’t make anymore. Yet still:

“Could you—help me set them up? On call? Sometime?”

“I don’t see why not,” Chilchuck said. “I got nothing better to do.”

[zg0nuwa]

Hello... If I can make a request, can I ask for platonic Adam relationship with a gn!reader? Reader, that has personality and traits of a Bennet from Genshin Impact(Adventurous, bubbly, always positive and chatty. But "blessed" with the worst luck ever known to humanity. Like, they like to go on adventures and explore different things, but they may end up getting lost, falling from a cliff, almost drowning, etc. Treasure hunt? Oh, all that they found in chests are radishes, carrots, or useless trash. Something's falling? Probably gonna land on them. Tgey got in a fight? Well, better call an ambulance right away, they may stab themselves with their own weapon. Even cooking may end up by setting the kitchen on fire. But despite all of that, they're still stayin' positive and smiley, believin' that they'll definetely get luckythe next day). Thank you🌺

not-so-lucky charm ; adam

so like i died once again but hey, that’s what they have hell for am i right fellas?

cw ; adam, one mention of suicide, adam is kinda mean

adam will be making fun of you most of the time, they key to calm his ass down is just ignoring his comments. he strives for attention and if you just shrug him off or laugh with him a little bit he will eventually cut down on rude remarks and teasing comments.

at first he might’ve been a little skeptical of your stories because they just sound so outlandish and sometimes unimaginable but once he experienced your luck with front row tickets he starts to believe you. genuinely confused on how you are still “alive”.

at some point he starts to get afraid because what if your bad luck infects him too. it doesn’t, but the idea of chasing him around after convincing him that it is in fact contagious just makes me giggle (he screams like a little girl)

not really sure how you can still be so optimistic about your situation, once told you he would just kill himself if he was in your shoes.

overall he acts like a typical older brother. making fun of you, teasing and all but deep down he cares, because lets be honest, if he didn’t he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you on your own.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a Manipulative Piece of Shit: Part 4/?

(part 1, part 2, part 3)

He knew and allowed Harry's abuse

Well, this is a pleasant subject, isn't it? Harry's abuse at the Dursleys' hands. And the worst part about it is that no adult in his life really seems to care.

I'll talk about the Weasley parents in a different post. This one is dedicated to Dumbledore and how he always knew about Harry's abuse and allowed it to persist. For years. Not just once, Harry started Hogwarts. No, I think Dumbledore knew what was going on at Number 4 Privet Drive long before Harry stepped foot in Diagon Alley.

And more importantly, I can prove it.

So, I'll cover my evidence according to the order of the quotes that appear in the books since there is quite a bit to cover.

And yes, I know Dumbledore calls the Dursleys out in Half-Blood Prince:

“You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 55)

But this scene is the definition of "too little, too late" considering how long this has been going on.

So, let's start:

“Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ‘course, he shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got yeh this.…” It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. “Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos… knew yeh didn’ have any…d’yeh like it?”

(Philosopher's Stone, page 218)

Hagrid can't keep a secret to save his life, we know that, and he isnt the brightest, with all his good intentions. Yet, even he noticed something's wrong with Harry's home. He knows Harry doesn't have photos of his parents, he knows he never got any gifts.

"But that's not Dumbledore,"

True, but Hagrid tells Dumbledore everything. So if Hagrid knows, Dumbledore knows.

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —” “Stop gibbering,” said Ron. “We’ve come to take you home with us.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 31)

“It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

Both these quotes from Chamber of Secrets show Fred, George, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley clearly knew what was happening. That Harry was being locked up and starved.

Harry really, never kept his abuse a secret and is quite open about informing anyone who'd listen to him about it. He is just used to it being brushed off as something unfortunate that nothing can be done about. The Weasleys, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Remus, and the entire Order of the Phoenix treat it as such.

In OOP, Harry references needing to duck from Vernon's beatings as a joke to Ron and Hermione. He wasn't keeping it a secret.

On the same vane:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a Squib?” Harry asked Mrs. Figg, panting with the effort to keep walking. “All those times I came round your house — why didn’t you say anything?” “Dumbledore’s orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I’m sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they’d thought you enjoyed it. It wasn’t easy, you know. . . . But oh my word,”

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

Harry wrote everyone he knew he was being starved. He wrote Hagrid and the Weasleys, and they all sent him food. The adults sent him food without bothering to ask him the important question: "Why aren't you being fed?"

(Order of the Pheonix, page 22)

This is the most damning evidence against Dumbledore.

He knew. He knew how Harry was treated his entire childhood because he had someone spy on him for years.

Mrs. Figg knew how Harry was treated by the Dursleys. She calls it: "miserable". She knew.

And she was sent there on Dumbledore's orders, meaning she was a spy. because let's be real, a squib, who can't do magic and doesn't own a gun can't do anything to protect Harry. She can only be there to spy. To report everything to Dumbledore.

This proves, more than any other quote here, how okay Dumbledore is with Harry suffering at the hands of the Dursleys.

Next moment he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open. Harry stood motionless, staring through the open door at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment and then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs. His heart shot upward into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; eight or nine of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 46)

The entire Order was there, at Number 4, Privet Drive. They've been following Harry since he got there. Tonks has seen Harry's bedroom. I don't think they missed something is definitely wrong. (I think this is why they tell the Dursleys off at the end of the fifth book and Dumbledore again in the sixth because someone else finally knew and Dumbledore had no choice but to address it)

And to make sure the Order is aware something's wrong between him and the Dursleys (that being an understatement), Harry outright tells Lupin:

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 54)

Harry makes it very clear the Dursleys don't care for his safety and that he never wants to return to literally everyone he can.

Why then? Why would Dumbledore want Harry abused?

“She’s evil,” said Harry flatly. “Twisted.” “She’s horrible, yes, but . . . Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt.” It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron. “I’m not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it’s not a big deal. It’s been hurting on and off all summer — it was just a bit worse tonight, that’s all —” “Harry, I’m sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this —” “Yeah,” said Harry, before he could stop himself, “that’s the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn’t it, my scar?” “Don’t say that, it’s not true!”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 277)

Harry said it best here: "for his scar"

In the previous posts, I covered how desperate Dumbledore was at the end of the war for a win, so much so, he might've forged a prophecy. And I explained he needed Sirius Black out of the picture for the same reason he wanted Harry at the Dursleys and wanted him mistreated — confident boys with a good support network and emotional regulation don't make very good martyrs.

In part 2, I mentioned how Dumbledore knew since the night the Potters died that Harry is likely a Horcrux. He has been manipulating Harry's life since then to achieve his grand plan of killing Voldemort. Even if it comes at the price of Harry having anything resembling a childhood and a life.

[cup-of-starlight-waters]

things i was taught by my mother or learned for myself

always cut your nails wet: they are softer while wet, so less prone to splitting and also less likely to make gross noises. best time is after a shower or bath; failing that, after doing dishes, or soaking for five minutes in a bowl of warm water.

recipes don’t always scale proportionally: the clearest example of this is rice; the more rice you have, the less water you need to add. I don’t know why, but suspect it has to do with how much water boils into steam vs how much gets absorbed by the rice. Similarly, if you double a dressing recipe, you might want to cut back on the salt or spice. if you add protein to a dish to feed more people, you might not want to add carbs in proportion—or vice versa. if you are adapting a recipe to serve more or less people, you might want to do a quick search or ask someone’s advice

you are allowed to change recipes: this can be scary if you are just beginning cooking, but so many recipes can be adapted very easily. Don’t like chicken? use pork or beef in stead. out of pink beans? substitute black beans or chickpeas. it might taste different, but it probably won’t taste bad. pasta sauce taste super acidic? put in honey or sugar or chopped carrots next time. if you actually need to reduce the acidity and not the taste, a little bit of baking soda. want a vegetable with your pasta? throw in some chopped carrots or spinach. once you’ve followed enough recipes, you’ll get a sense for the basic cooking processes, and you can start trying new things—the worst that will happen is probably one night of not-so-great food, but more than likely you’ll develop several variations of a favorite recipe you can swap between depending on your mood or what you have in the pantry.

don’t leave hair in the shower: if you have long hair, it sheds, and if you leave shed hair in the shower it will slip down the drain and over time form a nasty clump that will slow or even clog your drain. it’s also very rude if you share a shower with anyone else. if touching your own hair grosses you out, grab some toilet paper or a paper towel and use it to wipe up your hair (this also works if you share a shower with someone who doesn’t clean up their hair).

learn how to do easy things for yourself: my mother tells me to never have the mechanics change the cabin air filter in the car when i get my oil changed, because we can buy them cheap online and it takes five minutes and no special tools to do. i don’t have enough interest in cars or time and energy to do more complicated processes, but this is something that takes five minutes and saves me around $20 every time. if something is difficult or time consuming or better if done by an expert, then go ahead and get it done professionally. but there are a lot of things that are very easy to do yourself if you take the time to look up how.

politeness goes a long way: smiling and saying hello and goodbye to people you work or share community with. asking for advice. asking if someone has the time to help you, and saying thank you even if they don’t. saying thank you. offering to help. giving sincere compliments, not because you want anything but simply because you think it’s true. these things establish that you acknowledge and respect and see the people around you, and the more you do it the better you’ll get at it. and when you do that, people are more likely to acknowledge and respect and see you in return.

don’t mix cleaning chemicals: the big bad, deadly, never ever ever mix together is bleach and ammonia, but in general you shouldn’t mix anything if you don’t know exactly what’s in them whether or not they will react in a harmful fashion. it’s usually safe to dilute chemicals with water, and wearing gloves and a mask can protect you if the cleaning solution is caustic or gives off fumes. you’re probably better off using something milder, though. a mild disinfectant for the bathroom and hot soapy water for everything else is sufficient.

use a separate towel for your face: ideally, you should wash bed linens and towels in hot water regularly, but your face is particularly vulnerable to acne and infections. don’t use the same towel to wipe both your face and your butt. get a hand towel that you use specifically and only for drying your face when it’s clean. if you can’t find the time or energy to wash your bedding regularly, buy extra pillowcases and swap those out instead.

buy clothes that fit (that you like): this one is hard, for so many reasons. clothes are expensive; it can be hard to find good fitting clothes for certain body types; it can be hard to let go of clothes you’ve had for a long time; it can feel shameful to have to pull a particular size off the rack, because our culture sucks. but you will be more comfortable if your clothes aren’t too tight (or too big), and if they don’t have holes in them. if money is an issue, go to thrift stores or charity bins, or (and this can be hard) ask if anyone you know has hand me downs. if you are younger, a lot of people get rid of clothes when they graduate college and pack up their dorm rooms. on the other side of things, if you’ve been wearing hand me downs and up for grabs clothing most of your life and now you have more financial flexibility then you did before, you are allowed to spend money on clothes that you know you’ll wear a lot. don’t buy something that doesn’t fit quite right just because it’s a bargain; chances are you won’t wear it as much because it’s uncomfy. if you have a hard time letting go of a piece of clothing that doesn’t fit anymore or is falling apart, consider repurposing it: make it into a pillow or blanket. cut out a favorite graphic print and stitch it onto a new shirt. give it to someone you know will love it as much as you did. try to find a replacement—sometimes it takes time. my favourite, comfiest underwear style got discontinued by the brand five years ago. i have worn my last pairs to their limit, and only just found a new brand/style that works for me. every time i had to toss a pair because it had holes felt awful because even holey they were more comfortable than the in-between-styles, but now that i’ve found my new style all the old ones must go. out with the old-that-wasn’t-working and in with the new-and-unfamiliar-but-functional!

this is how you cut a melon: - wash with soapy water, because of Germs - put on a cutting board with a rim (to catch the juices) so that the stem and end of the melon point to your left and right - get a garbage bowl or a bag for scraps - use a long knife to bisect the melon, forming two hemispheres with the stem on one half and the melon end on the other - use a large metal spoon to scrape out all the seeds and any soft flesh from each melon half into the trash can or garbage bowl - take one half, place it cut side down on the cutting board, and carefully slide the knife horizontally through the top inch or so of the melon. you should be able to see the flesh or the melon - use a knife (should be long but skinny, so there is some flex to it) and cut off the melon rind one slice at a time, by cutting from the top of the melon to the cutting board, curving the knife path to follow the curve of the melon - rotate the melon half and repeat, until the rind has been completely removed and only the flesh of the melon can be seen - slice or dice the melon half according to your preference - repeat on the other melon half, or cover in cling wrap and refrigerate for another day or two - enjoy delicious melon

reblog with your own things you have been taught, or don’t; enjoy delicious melon, or delicious something else; live and learn new things, or teach the things you’ve learned to someone else

[pensat-i-fet]

A little accident (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**Anon request. I hope this is similar to what you imagined and that everyone else likes it too ❤️**

Word count: 2362

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Thank you for driving me to training”, tells me Rúben when we park at the training centre. 

“It’s ok. You sure someone can drive you back home later? I don’t mind picking you up”.

“Yes. Bernardo will drive me home and my car will be fixed tomorrow. Don’t worry”.

“Perfect”, I say, giving him a goodbye kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you then. I can use my time at your place to work without noisy neighbours bothering me. And I could cook dinner for us, maybe?”

“If you want to”, he says, already out of the car and getting his bag. “But we can order something”.

“I’m happy cooking today”, I love cooking for people. “Have a good training”.

He’s already by my door so he can steal another kiss before leaving.

“Thank you. See you later!”

                                      **

When I’m back at Rúben’s, I put the kettle on before I start to get everything ready for work. I haven’t been able to do much lately due to my neighbours doing renovations in their apartment at the worst times, so I’m looking forward to a productive afternoon.

In between work sessions, I start googling recipes for dinner. What should I cook?

Two hours, a coffee and two cups of tea later, I’m done with everything I needed to do so far for the project I’m working on. So I decide to check we got all the ingredients I need for the pie I’m planning on cooking for dinner. Rúben should be back in an hour, so I’ll be taking the food out of the oven by the time he’s back. Perfect.

Moving around Rúben’s place isn’t always the easiest. He’s no giant, so his things are at normal height for most people…but not for someone as short as me. He loves joking about our height difference but always makes sure the things I need are not on the highest shelves. However, he can’t do that when he doesn’t know what I’ll be needing, like right now.

Walking around the kitchen carrying a chair so I can reach some of the ingredients I need makes me feel so dumb. Thankfully, no one is here to see it. But it gets the work done.

Being a bit of an organisation freak, I start to get all the bowls out to put the chopped veggies in them, in the order I’ll cook them. Once the carrots are done, everything is set. I only need to get the spices and I’ll be able to start cooking.

Oh, and I need a baking dish to put everything on. So I check the oven to see if the one that’s usually there can be used but…there’s nothing inside. How odd.

The drawers under the oven are full of stuff, but no baking dishes. Where has this man put them now?

After opening every drawer and cabinet door, I finally spot the baking dishes. On the top shelf. Of course. That’d be my luck. I guess it’s time to get the chair again. Being short isn’t that fun sometimes.

Checking the clock, I see I need to hurry up if I want to have the food ready for when Rúben is back. Even if he wouldn’t mind waiting a little bit, I know he’ll be starving after training.

But the damn chair isn’t enough for me to reach the shelf. Does he have a ladder? No, we joked about it sometimes and he doesn’t have one. 

I realise the only answer is going on the counter and immediately hear my mum’s voice telling me I can’t do that because it’s gross and I’ll slip and fall. Well, I can clean the area when I’m down. And I won’t fall. I’m tiny but, thankfully, not clumsy. And I need that bloody dish.

I soon find out it’s easier said than done and that the area where I’ll be standing is quite small, which reduces my movements a lot. But here I am, finally face to face with the dishes. Which one is the right size?

I get two out and hold them in front of me to try and compare sizes when I lose my balance and realise I have no empty hands to hold onto anything. So my survival instinct kicks in and I drop one of the dishes to try and hold onto the cabinet’s door. But I don’t manage to grab it, grabbing a little figure instead and taking it down with me.

I fear the noise would have been heard throughout the entire building. It was almost deafening. But once it’s all silent again, I finally open my eyes to see the damage made.

Both dishes are on the floor, but not broken. I’ll write a letter to the brand to congratulate them. Their unbreakable promise wasn't just smart advertising.

But something is broken. The little figure I tried to hold onto so I wouldn’t fall. And when I see what it is, I want to cry. My butt also hurts from falling and I’ll probably have a sore back tomorrow but all I can see is the figure.

When I first visited Rúben’s apartment, he showed it to me, telling me how it had belonged to his grandma and how she gave it to his mum when she lived abroad. Now it was Rúben’s turn to have it since he was living away from home. The figure itself wasn’t anything too special. Rúben even joked about keeping it in the cabinet because of how ugly it was. But it had so much sentimental value and now I broke it. God, he’s going to hate me.

My first stupid instinct is to get the pieces and try to do what? Superglue them together? I don’t even know if he has superglue at home. But I frantically get them so I can bring them to the counter and try and do something. 

While I do it, I hear the front door opening, which makes me panic and cut myself with one of the sharp pieces. I’m so panicked I don’t even feel the pain and just get a piece of kitchen cloth to wrap around my hand. That’ll do, it was a superficial cut.

“Hi…what happened?”, asks Rúben when he gets to the kitchen and finds me in my current state. 

“Sorry”, I say, starting to feel the tears in my eyes.

“Why are you apologizing? What happened?”

He keeps walking towards me while assessing the situation in the kitchen. The food is on the counter, ready to be cooked. The two baking dishes are still on the floor and I’m crying holding my bandaged hand and one of the pieces from the broken figure. I’m surprised he hasn’t run away yet.

“I fell and I broke…your figure…but I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…I just couldn’t reach…”, the sobs make it impossible for me to speak correctly.

“Just calm down”, he says, but I can see him getting impatient. “Are you bleeding?”

He’s now holding my hand and trying to get the cloth off to see the cut but I take it away.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry I broke your figure. I just tried to hold…”.

“Stop talking about the stupid figure”, he says, raising his voice. “Let me see your hand”.

“I’m fine”.

“You’re not. The cloth is soaked with blood”.

Is it?  Yes, when I look at my hand, I can see it is. Maybe the cut is not as superficial as I thought.

“I’ll clean it in a bit and put on a plaster. But first, we need to fix this. I have all the pieces and if you’ve got some glue, we can maybe make it decent”.

“If you don’t stop talking about that figure, I swear I’ll throw the pieces out of the window”.

I’ve seen him angry at the matches but that anger was never directed towards me and I don’t know how to react. But of course, he’s right about being angry at me. I come to his apartment and make all this mess. 

“I’m so sorry, Rúben. This is honestly so embarrassing. I’ll clean everything and…”.

But he’s no longer listening. He goes to get my bag and takes my keys out of it.

“What are you doing?”

“We are leaving”.

He’s kicking me out of the house?

“Where?”

“To the hospital. I’m going to clean that cut the best I can and bandage it properly, not with a plaster”, he says, trying not to roll his eyes. “And then we’ll go to the hospital. You might need stitches. And if you’ve fallen, you might be hurt somewhere else”.

“I feel fine”.

But the look he gives me says the conversation is over and we’re doing as he says.

                                      **

Ten minutes later, we are getting in my car since Rúben’s is still being fixed. And his annoyance is only getting worse.

“How can anyone fit here?”, he complains, moving the seat from my normal position to one where his legs can fit comfortably. 

“Sorry”.

“Stop apologizing”.

The drive is silent and I just try not to cry again, but I start feeling the pain from the fall in my body now that the adrenaline is gone and it’s not pretty.

“Are you alright?”, asks Rúben when he notices me moving, trying to find a comfortable position.

“My back hurts a bit”.

He sighs and keeps his eyes on the road. “We’ll be there soon”.

And he was right. Only a couple of minutes later, we are at the hospital and it doesn’t seem to be super busy at A&E. Finally some luck.

“I think she might need stitches”, says Rúben to the nurse who’s taking notes of all my injuries.

“Let me see, sweetie”, and I do, finally looking at the cut myself and having to look away immediately. “Yes, stitches for sure. Come with me, we need to disinfect it well before the doctor can do some sawing. He’s great at it. I’m always trying to get him to fix my clothes”.

I try to smile at her attempt at a joke but can barely do it. Rúben and I still don’t talk to each other and this feeling of guilt is killing me. But he still stays with me the whole time, which makes me feel a bit better.

The doctor who fixes my cut also checks my back, after telling him how I fell and injured myself and I can hear Rúben swearing under his breath when I take my shirt off.

“What?”, I ask, worried.

“It’s a nasty bruise”, answers the doctor. “But just a bruise. I’ll give you some medicine for the pain and you’ll be fine in a couple of days”.

                                   **

By the time we are back at the car, Rúben still hasn’t talked to me. He was happy to speak with the doctors and nurses but had no words for me. And now it’s starting to piss me off. It’s not as if I did this on purpose.

Out of habit, I go to open the door with my right hand, only to realise I can’t move it because of the bandage and the stitches. So I try with my left hand, but can’t open the door because Rúben stops me from doing it.

I turn to look at him but before I have time to say anything, he brings my body to his and hugs me tightly. Thank God I didn't hurt my ribs when I fell.

“Rúben…thank you for looking after me”.

“Don’t you even injure yourself again, you hear me?”

“Ok?”

“Do you know how scared I was when I saw you in the kitchen, crying and bloodied? I almost had a heart attack”, he tells me, holding my face with his hands.

“I thought you were angry at me”.

“Why would I be angry?”

“You yelled at me. You never yell at me”, I say, trying to make sense of the last hour. I just wanted to make some Shepherd’s pie.

“I was scared and didn’t know what to do and it frustrated me”, he says, hugging me again. “And then you kept talking about that figure you broke, when I was worried about you breaking a bone or something and…I don’t know, I lost it, I guess”.

I enjoy being in this embrace for a little longer before moving back to look at him.

“I just wanted to cook dinner but the dishes were too high up”.

“Instead of making the house child-proof, I’ll have to make it midget-proof”, he says, making me slap his arm…with my injured hand.

“I’m an idiot”, I say, putting my head in his chest and closing my eyes.

“Did that hurt?”

“Nah, but I’ll have to get used to being left-handed for a couple of days”.

“It could have been worse. That bruise you have on your back scared me even more than the blood, you know?”

“Is it really that bad?”

“I’ll show you when we are home. Let’s go. I’ll cook us some dinner”.

“Try not to break the entire kitchen. You’re so clumsy sometimes”, I joke, making us both laugh for the first time in a long while.

We finally make it back to his apartment and I get to see my lovely bruise, which does look pretty terrifying. And I also get to change into clothes that don't have any blood on them.

When I go back to the kitchen, I see all the mess I made has been cleaned by Rúben, who is making some quick dinner for the both of us.

“Are you sure you’re not angry at me for breaking that figure?”

“No. It was really ugly anyways”.

“But it was a family tradition”.

“It wasn’t when it was bought. We can buy another one and turn it into one. Family heirlooms or traditions aren’t made that way, we give them that meaning. I can buy more or make more”, he says, making me feel a bit better. “But I can’t make more of you if you fall again and break your neck”.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to go up a counter ever again”.

[strqyr]

Hi, you don't have to answer this if you don't want to but what are you personal headcanons for the rose-xiao long family if you have any :)

I've been curious for a while now seeing how positively you view their family dynamic compared to a good majority of the fandom

i'm. honestly not sure if i really have any? like, canon provides sufficiently enough that i don't have this huge "need" to come up with any.

like, the most is derived from my own desire to "redesign" their house and where it's located lol. no one can tell me they wouldn't have a small garden in the backyard where they grow food during the summer—like carrots, onions, potatoes, etc—and that each plant has been named by ruby and yang. every single year there also has to be a patch for strawberries, as demanded by ruby (and tai is like, the worst when it comes to actually saying no to his daughters), doesn't matter that there are wild strawberries growing in the forest not even five minutes of walking away.

on the kitchen doorway there's height marks for each girl, always tracked on their birthdays—though the latest are from the day before they went to beacon, mainly bc ruby wanted to know how much she would grow during her time at beacon once she graduated.

and like, tai's overprotective but like i said, he's also the worst at saying no if ruby or yang really want something, so if ruby wants to make one of the most dangerous weapons the world has to offer to use as a weapon, well... he'd prefer if she picked literally anything else, please and thank you, but he'll also make the call to qrow to get his ass over here, ruby made a scythe but she sucks at it and now she's sad and this will not do. train her or else.

or how yang has a motorcycle like that's?? expensive??? but also a Death Machine™ like please, not again... but he's still going to save money for it and buy the dorkiest helmet possible as a promise that she will get her motorcycle, eventually, because safety is important and if yang wants to ride a motorcycle, she's gotta be prepared. (and yang could have absolutely bought a different, much cooler helmet by the time she actually got her bike, but the dorky helmet means something, so she wears it with pride.)

whenever qrow comes back from his missions, he brings some kind of souvenirs to the girls, especially when they were younger. he may not stay around for a long time each visit, but he tries to make it memorable.

there also totally should be a small lake within a five or ten minute walk of their cabin for swimming and fishing purposes, be it summer or winter, it makes no difference.

also x2 tai has absolutely tried to teach ruby and yang how to cook. ruby just seems to get distracted by something every single time, and yang just keeps discovering new ways to mess up to the point it feels like a sabotage, but she swears it isn't. the kitchen tho? definitely cursed.

[romanestuffsposts]

Your page is my favorite and I absolutely it and think you are so sweet! 💕💕💕

If it’s not too much trouble can you write a sticky’s little princess accidently cuts herself on something while she’s struggling to stay big and ends up needing stitches? 🥺🥺🥺

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much for everything! ❤️

I hope you like how i turned it, sweetie <3

****

Warnings : blood, little reader cutted herself, scared, angst, mention of blood (not detail), hospital, doctors, stitches, cries, pain, mention of shapes

Pairing : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : ⤴️⤴️

A/N : I didn’t edit it so I’ll do it later, maybe tomorrow lovers. Enjoy!

****

It was a long day, you love working, you love what you do for a living but sometimes even what you love can be overwhelming and that's the case today. Maybe you didn't slept well and were tired all day without really being award of it, maybe something happened and affected you without you noticing it, or maybe it's something else but whatever it was it got you tired and upset

You were even scared to drive back home, your attention on the world around you wasn't the best after work and you were scared you will be too distracted. You decided to call a taxi to go home safe. You'll call another one tomorrow morning to go to work and you'll take your car to go back home.

You sigh and throw your bag on the couch, you kick off your shoes and go upstairs to remove your work clothes. You grab Bucky's long shirt and Steve's jogging, the most comforting clothes you ever wore. You go back downstairs and even if a good and warm bath following by a nap make you the puppy eyes, you decide to start dinner so your men can relax and eat when they get back home after work in two hours

You may had a long and tired day, but maybe theirs were worst so you'll do that for them.

You get out the vegetables and the pans you need for cooking. You put water in the first pan and make it at boil while you put butter on the other but wait for the vegetables to be inside to boil the second pan. You grab a long and huge knife and start cutting the veggies.

You can't help but smile as you look down at the carrot you're cutting. When you were on the taxi, you remember looking out of the window and you saw a little boy smiling as he ate a carrot shaped like a dinosaur. He looked so happy. Your mother used to always make your food better. When you had to eat something you don't like at all she changed the shape to make it funnier or she putted something on it so the taste would've been better.

You gasp and hiss when you feel a huge pain in your hand. You let go of the knife and grab your wrist. You're breathing start to get heavier and louder, panic starts to make its way in you. You don't want to look down at your hand but you have to.

You slowly lower your gaze and let out a sob at the amound of blood you see on your hands and around it. Your hands are trembling from the shock of the wound, the deep wound. You start to go toward the staires to go in the bathroom but from the shock you feel dizzy. You help yourself with the things who are around you like walls or fournitures.

The blood fall down on the ground making it more risky to walk. Because you're still in shock, you don't hear the front door opening and the voice of you Daddies walking in the house. You keep making your way to the bathroom.

Bucky closes the door behind him and removes his shoes. He frowns when he doesn't see yours beside the front door like they ususally are. He walks to Steve to ask him where you could be if you weren't at home but he stops himself when he sees him walking and benching to grab something

"the little devil" he laughs as he grabs your shoes from the ground. Bucky relaxes and chuckles "why am I surprised ?" He chuckles as he watches Steve putting them beside theirs at the entrance. "she probably takes a shower, right now"

Bucky sats flat on the couch and hums "maybe we can join her ?" he chuckles smirking as he looks down at his phone. Steve lets out a loud laugh at that and nods "that could be awsome" he sighs as he rests his hands on the top of the backrest of the couch. He looks down at Bucky "but she had a hard week because of her father so maybe she needs this time alone a little" Bucky sighs but nods "you're probably right"

"I'm always right" Steve smirks making Bucky laughing "shut up"

Steve walks toward the kitchen with a silly grin on his lips. "grab me some water!" Yells Bucky from the living room. "yes boss" Steve mumbles as he opens the fridge to grab a snacks. He frowns when he doesn't see the veggies he brought the other day. He was sure they didn't ate it, maybe he's wrong

He turns around to grab the bottle of water but his frown quickly disappears as he gazes the counter of the kitchen. He lets go of his snack and walks to it. His gaze doesn't only fall on the veggies but on something red too. He looks up and sees Bucky chuckling at something on his phone, he looks at his right and sees drops of blood. His eyes fall back on the counter and they widen at the knife

Without losing a second, he runs up the staires and runs around the rooms to find you. Bucky looks up toward the noise of his husband as he runs toward the staires and frown "Steve ?" He stands up and walks upstairs

Steve runs inside the bathroom and is relieve to see you there but it doesn't last long. He rushes to you "Baby" he calls and grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. Your eyes fall in his and your swollen face from the cries is hurting him. "Baby what happened ?" he asks looking at you

You sniff and shake your head "Papaa" you cry. His eyes soften and he gives your forehead a kiss "it's okay, baby. It's okay" he reassures you "i'm here, you're not alone. Let me make it better, tell Papa where it hurts, sweetie" he calmly says as he strokes your cheek

He may sound calm but deep inside him, he is the complet opposite.

You cry and slowly show him your hand. You flinch away when he goes to grab you and shake your head. It hurt too much, you're too scared to be touch

He shushes you "i won't hurt you. I'll never do something who might hurt you, never. Do you trust me ?" he asks looking right into your eyes. You weakily nod and show him once again your hand

He quietly hisses and as he gazes the palm of your hand without touching it. The last thing he want is to make you more hurt or more scared than you already are

He stands up "come with me" he grabs the hand who aren't hurt and was about to pull you up when Bucky walks in the bathroom "jesus Steve. I looked for you in the whole house, why did you run like that ? Are you crazy or what ?" he says rolling his eyes "I knew you wan- Oh My God!" he squeals when he sees the blood on you. he rushes to you and ignores the glare of his husband. he knows that squealing isn't the best way to make you relax and feel safe but it came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"What happened, little one ?" He says kneeling infront of you. Steve rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder and shake his head telling him it's not the moment to ask something like that.

Bucky sighs and stands up. Steve takes back your hand and Bucky helps you standing up. Your legs are still shaky from what happened so walking without help is hard

"we'll had to clean it so we can have a better look of the wound. After that we can decide what we'll do to help you. Are you okay with that ?" Your Papa asks as you all stand at the bathroom's sink.

Your big and teary eyes look up at him "hut ?" your voice cracks at the thought of hurting again. He tilts his head to the side and looks at you still with a lot of concern in his eyes "Yes it will. It will hurt once the water touches your injury but Daddy and I are here to help you through that. We'll make sure it won't last long. We promise"

You whine and shake your head "No. Don wanna" you start to squirm qo they'll let go of you "pwease" a few tears run down your cheeks

"Baby, look at me" Bucky says and turns your head toward him "look at me while Papa puts your hand under the water. Think about a moment we had all together who made you happy. Look at me and think about it" he says and rests your forehead against his "did you found our moment ?" he asks after a moment and you nod following by a sniff "good" he kisses your nose and looks into your eyes "are you ready ?"

You whine but nod and hide your face in your Daddy's chest. You don't want them to see you while you cry from the pain. You need to hide

You feel the water falling on your hand and after some seconds the pain starts to come back but more intensely than earlier. Your Daddies shushes you and reassures you while you bite your lips.

"it's over, sweetie. It's over now"

You look back at your Papa and sniff. Your Daddy tighten his arms around you while your Papa smiles down at you "you did so good, sweetness. We're so proud of you, you did a great job" he says kissing your tears away.

You give him a weak little smile and he sighs in relieve. He kisses your lips. Your Daddy lifts you up and carries you downstairs. He sits on the couch and rests you on his laps. Steve is quick to sit beside you and he takes your hand in his

They could've look at your hand in the bathroom but it was hard enough for you so they decide to look at your hand in a comfy couch, in a place where you feel good and safe

Steve peers up at Bucky and in one look they know what the other think and what they have to do.

Steve gets up and goes grab your shoes and your coat. He grabs his and Bucky's at the same time. He helps you putting your shoes on and your coat.

Bucky stands up with you in his arms once everyone is ready and they walk toward the car.

With one look of your wound they knew they had to go to the hospital. Someone needs to take a look at your injury

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

"The wound is deep. She needs stitches. She also had a nlood pressure drop at the time of her injury so we'll take a close eye on her and we'll see if she need to stay here for the night or no" Bruce says to your daddies

Bucky sighs and closes his eyes. They weren't prepared to here that. They knew you needed stitches but they didn't know there were more things behind what happened

"thank you Bruce" Steve grabs Bucky's hand "can we stay with her ?"

He nods "yes of course. You can follow me" He leads them to the room where you are waiting.

You want to stand up when you see them, they were gone for a long time and you were scared. You need them beside you all along. Bucky shakes his head at your attempt to get on your feet "stay sit, beautiful. We're coming to you, not the other way around" he gently says

You sit back down and Steve grabs your unharm hand and squeeze it "you see Bruce there ?" he points the man who is preparing something. You nod and look back at your Papa "He'll help you get better but for that you need to be a strong and good girl. It will be uncomfortable but you'll get better after this. We're here and we won't leave you. You'll feel us beside you the whole time"

You shake your head "don wanna hut" you say and Bucky nods "we know baby and i swear to you it's the last part. After that you'll get a lot of cuddles, a lot of kisses and a lot of rest. Deal ?"

Your head is toward the floor but your eyes peer up at your Daddy "wit nack and catoons ?"

Bucky smirks down at you while your Papa laughs "with snacks and cartoons, yes" he says and you nod even if you still don't want to do it.

Bruce comes back to you with a lot of stuffs in his hands which isn't ease your stress. He sits on a chair infront of you and takes your hand. Your Daddy grabs your chin and turns your head toward his "you'll feel a little pinch in your hand but after the pain will go away for a time. Are you ready, honey ?" Bruce asks

You look into your Daddy eyes and slowly nod. Bucky sees your eyes watering and his fingers find your back and he gently strokes it.

You let out a cry when you feel the sharp going in your wound. You want to pull your hand back to you but you can't with your Papa's hands and Bruce's hand holding you still.

Bucky whispers sweet words in your ear while Bruce starts to stitches your hand. You feel things but it's not really pain. It's something weird you never felt before.

Before you know it, Bruce bands your hand and gives you a lollipop for your courage. You gladly accept it but look at your daddies before. They nod their head at you so you grab the sweet and put it in your mouth immediatly

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

"let us see again" Bucky says with a smile as he looks at you. You pull your hand out of under the cover and show him your bandaged hand. He and Steve smiles and praise youonce again for the way you were today.

"We're so proud of you."

"We never could have handle that.

"You're so strong"

You giggle and hide under the sheet to hide your blush from them. Steve and Bucky laugh at how adorable you are. Bucky's fingers find their way to your side and wiggle all around. You laugh and squirm under the couch while your daddies smile down at you

They're happy to hear your laugh after everything that happened tonight. They missed your laugh, even if it was just one day without hearing your sweet laugh, it was still too long. They can't live without hearing you

Your head plops up from under the sheet and you're silly grin is still on your lips. Bucky chuckles and pulls you against him. He wraps his arms around you and you hide your face in his warm and safe chest.

You feel your Papa's body behind you and his hands going around you "we love you, sweetness and you make us proud every day" He kisses the back of your neck

You're comfy, and warm in the only place where you feel safe. Between your daddies and their praises and comfort