#Thanks a million for the ask!!

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day thirty one

prompt: halloween pairing: lando/oscar word count: 1200w

“Lando,” Oscar says, when he makes his way into the living room to drop his work bag next to the couch. “Why is my baby dressed as a pumpkin?”

Becca is in her little baby playpen banging a few blocks together, dressed in a felt pumpkin suit. There’s even a little hat with a stalk on top perched on her little blond curls. “Da,” she says, when she spots Oscar.

“Hi love,” Oscar says, picking her up and snuggling her closing, earning him another, more decisive “Da!”

“Oscar!” Lando says, appearing from the kitchen. “I can explain.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, putting his daughter back down. “Can you?”

Lando bites at his lip. He has a spatula in hand, which means he’s attempting to cook dinner again, which means Oscar needs to make this as short as possible so he can make his way into the kitchen and salvage whatever is going on there.

“It’s Halloween?” Lando eventually settles on. “And like. I don’t. I’m not overstepping, or like, I don’t want to overstep, but I just thought. It’s her first you know. I think she should go out trick or treating.”

“She’s fourteen months,” Oscar states, but he’s mostly amused.

“Yeah? So? It’s Halloween, Oscar,” Lando says. Something in the kitchen beeps, and Lando quietly curses under his breath, making his way in there. Oscar throws one last look to Becca, who’s gone back to banging blocks together, and follows Lando into the kitchen.

“Maybe it’s time to revoke your babysitting privileges,” Oscar says, leaning against the doorway and watching Lando flit through the kitchen. There’s a pasta sauce bubbling away in a pot, next to one filled with pasta. It doesn’t seem disastrous yet, so Oscar’s happy to lean back and watch.

“Oh, please,” Lando says. “You would die without you convenient next door neighbor who works from home and loves your kid and is therefor willing to watch her whenever you need someone.”

Unfortunately, this is true. For reasons other than just the convenience, too. Like the way Lando smiles at him sometimes. Or the way Lando’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Embarrassing stuff like that.

“You really want to go trick or treating with her?” Oscar asks.

“We are going trick or treating with her,” Lando says, grinning at Oscar, clearly feeling like he’s won something here. “I have matching outfits.”

The matching outfits, thankfully, are just headbands with little pumpkins on bouncy springs. Oscar is pretty sure he looks ridiculous, especially next to Lando, who somehow makes the damned things look cute.

There really is no going back now, so after they finish their pasta, they put Becca’s coat on under her little pumpkin suit, don their stupid little headbands, and head to their first house.

Which is when things get kind of. Weird.

“Oh, your family is so cute,” The first lady says, as she deposits a few pieces of candy in the little bag Lando is holding. “Reminds me of my own daughter and her husband. Precious. Have a good night.”

“Uh,” Lando says, but she’s already closing the door.

Oscar adjusts Becca on his hip, mostly so he kind hide the blush on his face. “On to the next one?” He says quickly, mostly hoping that means Lando won’t bring it up.

“Yeah,” Lando says, still staring at the now closed door. “Yeah, next one.”

But at the next one, roughly the same thing happens. And the Next one. And the next one.

Oscar is coping with this wonderfully, mostly by pretending none of this is happening and no one is actually confusing them for some kind of cute young family rather than for what they are, which is two totally platonic neighbors who are friends who are trick or treating with one of the neighbors kids.

It’s going swimmingly, if he says so himself, even though is heart aches at the thought. Becca, entire unaware, babbles happily in his arms and tries to grab at the pumpkins on his headband.

Lando is quiet, too, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t correct anyone and that’s. Something, right? Nothing, for sure. But.

But.

Except then he does say something, when an young mom smiles at them and says, “Oh, what an adorable little family you have. My kid is her age, too. It’s the best, isn’t it?”

“We aren’t-“ Lando blurts, a little too loud, making Becca startle a little as she looks at him with wide eyes. “A family. I’m just. We’re not. Together. That’s his kid. She’s not. She’s not mine.”

Oscar doubts that. Becca thinks the sun shines out of Lando’s ass on most days. She’s just as much Lando’s as she is Oscar’s, but that’s. That’s dangerous territory, he thinks.

“Oh,” the woman says, a little taken aback. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lando says, smiles tiredly. It must’ve been bothering him more than Oscar thought. Oscar tries not to be too hurt about that. “Have a good night,” he says, and stalks off the porch.

“You too?” The lady says, but Lando’s already gone. Oscar smiles awkwardly at her, and then follows Lando as quickly as he can with Becca in his arms.

“Hey,” he says, when he catches up.

“Hey,” Lando says, not looking at him, setting a pretty brutal pace. “Let’s go back to the apartments, yeah?”

“Okay,” Oscar says, noting how he says apartments, plural. Nothing how he doesn’t say home.

They walk in silence, for a bit, Becca dozing off on Oscar’s shoulder, before Lanod finally speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what,” Oscar says, confused. He doesn’t think Lando has anything to apologize for. If he’s uncomfortable being linked to Oscar as a husband, that’s. I mean. He’s allowed to feel those feelings, even if they hurt.

“I just. I’ve been inserting myself in Becca’s life, in your life, and this should have been a cute little milestone, her first Halloween, and instead you spend the whole time listening to people thinking we’re like, what. Together?” Lando is still not looking at him, aggressively biting at his lip.

Oscar takes a moment, unpacks everything Lando’s just said, tries to think of the right thing to say. Eventually he settles on. “We wouldn’t have had Becca’s first Halloween if not for you.”

When Lando finally turns to look at him, if only to send him a confused look, Oscar continues. “You got her the outfit. You got the headbands. I was just going to spend the night inside giving candy away to kids, but you made it special. So you’re not inserting yourself. If anything, I think you’re making her life much, much better.” And then, because he feels like it’s important Lando knows, even though it will probably not lead anywhere, “Also I don’t mind. When people think we’re together.”

“Oh,” Lando says. “You don’t? I mean. I don’t, either.” They’ve stopped, in the middle of the walkway, staring at each other over Becca’s head.

“Good? That’s. That’s good,” Oscar says, a little unsure all of a sudden. If this means what he thinks it means…

“Oh fudge it,” Lando says, and leans forward, softly presses his lips to Oscar’s. It’s a little awkward, with Becca still snoozing happily between them, but it’s the most perfect kiss Oscar’s ever gotten. When Lando pulls away, he’s smiling, a smile Oscar is sure is mirrored on his own face. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He says.

“Home,” Lando says, nods. Shakes his head like he can’t quite believe it.

They can’t hold hands, because Oscar’s are still occupied, but Lando’s hand finds a place at the small of his back, and that’s just as magical, Oscar thinks, as they slowly start making their way home.

[deerspherestudios]

Evening! I was a bit late for playing day 3 but when I did get around to it OMG CHEEA YOU HAVE DONE ABSOLUTELY WONDERFULLY WITH THE NEW INSTALMENT!!! The animations, the new sprites, the story overall SHDIUCSABSDHDBCA, chef's kiss! Day 3 is my absolute favorite so far!!! It shows us so many new and different sides of Mychael, his playful teasing with ruffling our hair, his honestly eerily threatening demeanour (honestly that one scene where he grabbed our wrist and yelled at us just sdiubciscni mychael pls chill bro), and especially tickling him?!! I was fully planning a frontal attack like mc had but he's saved by the kettle… for now >:3 I cannot emphasise how much of an emotional rollercoaster and how much I was invested into every single part of every single scene!! (i was honestly smilling like an idiot for the most of it/pos)

I absolutely adore mychael as a person because he genuinely feels so alive, someone I would honestly love to be friends with and just hang out about!! Gentle giant mushroom man with crippling social anxiety, mychael you lovable man hhhhhh. But in all honesty, that smack we did on the beginning of the third day is deserved. Sorry not sorry mychael but you have to learn to properly communicate, I will make it my mission to make you thoroughly understand how important proper communication is if you want to befriend someone! The little cooking scene too!! Honestly cheea, on every single meal time I always go back to see every single food option cause every single one makes me hungry, they all look so tasty and very scrumptious, and iusdhcisuadhaiusdh mychael you absolute madlad for learning all of these things on your own like how?!?

Thank you so so so very much for making the game and mychael cheea, no proper amount of words can properly describe how I absolutely love your creations. Please do rest properly and take the time you need to relax for a while. And please do remember to take care and stay hydrated!

Aaaa a a thank you for the ki n d wor d s <3 < 3 < 3 ,, .

[royalarchivist]

Pac: I don't know if you remember, we left Cell on an island with just a bullet and a revolver at his disposal and we fled. So, theoretically, we outsmarted* Cell and gave him what he deserved, understand? So, my headcanon, understand? You know? But the drawing was really cool.

[ *passar a perna – literally to deceive, but the direct translation is like a leg sweep, which is why Chat responds with "What leg?" ]

Pac: [Reading chat] What leg? Yeah, not the right one. Wait– not the right. Exactly. The left. Is it the left? Wait, which leg did I lose? [...] No, wait– the left, because my dominant leg is the right. So I will choose the left. [Reading chat] "You chose?" I like to think I had the power to choose.

—

Pac talks about Fuga Impossível lore and implies that Cell let him decide which leg he'd lose. 🔪

[ Full transcript / translation ↓ ]

—

Pac: Guys, it's not the other way around, in my headcanon– in my headcanon– you have to know how to respect my headcanon. In my headcanon– because, I don't know if you remember, we left Cell on an island with just a bullet and a revolver at his disposal and we fled. So, theoretically, we outsmarted* Cell and gave him what he deserved, understand? So, my headcanon, understand? You know? But the drawing was really cool.

[ *passar a perna – literally to deceive, but the direct translation is like a leg sweep, which is why Chat responds with "What leg?" ]

Pac: [Reading chat] What leg? Yeah, not the right one. Wait– not the right. Exactly. The left. Is it the left? Wait, which leg did I lose? Oh sht... [Long pause] I don't remember, man. Oh, I don't know guys, I don't know. Did I decide? Oh, man. None? I'm kidding–

Pac: Well, if I have to decide? The right? I don't know. Nobody knows, right? But this drawing was really cool, it was really cool. You choose one there and I choose the right one. No, wait– the left, because my dominant leg is the right. So I will choose the left. Because like, I'm thinking like this, look what came into my head: Which leg would go away? Wow, I thought "So, if I'm going to kick a ball, I'm going to shoot it with my right leg. If I didn't have a right leg, I wouldn't be able to shoot the ball properly. So I prefer the left." That was my line of thinking, you know? I don't know. It's a bad example, right? And that's it, right? [Reading chat] "You chose?" Yeah, I like to think I had the power to choose.

[boringa55binch]

I had this cute thought in my head, basically Gregory’s getting ready for bed but recently he’s been having trouble sleeping, so Vanessa decides to tell him a story she made up, when she ends the story she gives Gregory a forehead kiss, Gregory a bit shocked at first then says he loves Vanessa and she says she loves him too, meanwhile Freddy is just listening and is so heart melted.

Bedtime Story

i got a teensy bit carried away;; I wanted to make something from the scenario you gave, but have it be closer to my characterization of them. hope it's okay!

wonder what Freddy wanted to tell her...

[polarsirens]

I love your art and I've been thinking about Gerard (<3) and I wanted to recommend The Night We Met by Lord Huron, because it makes me think of them

thank you <3 and ough lord huron my beloved…. i haven’t listened to this song in a while but you are so so right and i’m back on my sadness train

take me back to the night we met

[xxrat--punkxx]

🐰+🔪

[owl-bones]

I've got to ask what is Eos or swap nightmares type? And can we get a little more background on him please? Sorry if this was asked already

his type is someone that he feels safe around and that makes him laugh!

more info below the cut:

he’s a pretty standard swap nightmare, i think! he’s cynical and stand-offish, but craves connection with people. he’s just been dealt enough bad hands that he assumes the worst of everyone around him, so he doesn’t bother trying to form meaningful relationships. he does want to help people though, if only to feel useful and hold onto a glimmer of hope that maybe someone will like him. despite that, he takes his job as the guardian of negativity very seriously and tries his best to uphold the balance— even if his brother is constantly expanding his territory and eos is vastly outnumbered by his followers. this of course comes into conflict with his want to help people, as upholding the balance means often spreading negativity. so a lottttt of AUs consider him a menace/bad omen and he’s generally treated rather poorly. 😔 but hey, at least he has one friend (aka killer, who followed him one day and never left him alone)

there’s lots more to him and his brother but i want to expand on that in a fic someday so perhaps i will keep it secret for nowwwwwwww

also a plain version of the pic

[i-am-emmet-real]

//new ask game

Idk if this has already been done. If so, sorry.

Send me a 🎶 or [music note] to get a song/lyric that reminds me of my muse(s). I may or may not explain why.

[wanderingblindly]

trick or treat!!! 🎃

- kitty 💕

LISTEN I KNOW HALLOWEEN WAS YESTERDAY BUT THIS COUNTS BECAUSE IT'S. FALL. I GUESS. WHATEVER!!! HAPPY TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!!!! @utopiastri so u get the notif

Today I offer: some quick established relationship landoscar, ft. a fluffy bedtime routine.

Words for Sleep

"Don't reckon I'd be very good at it," Oscar sounds hesitant, looking at Lando like he's lost his mind.

"Don't need you to be good at it," Lando says, shuffling around in their bed until he's tucked under the covers, patting the pillow next to him. "I just think it'll be..."

Oscar chuckles, moving to sit on his side. "Y'wanna say 'good', don't you?"

"No," He huffs, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders. "I think it'll be helpful, how's that?"

"Helpful."

"Very helpful."

"You not been sleeping well?" Oscar's voice grows soft as he reaches out to brush his fingers against Lando's cheek – lightly grazing the purple hiding under his beautiful eyes. "Have you talk to Jo–"

"Can we just try? Please?" Lando cuts him off, trying to resist hiding his face under the duvet like a child.

Oscar sighs, looking at the nightstand – looking at the book Lando had placed on the nightstand while he'd stepped away to brush his teeth. He looks back at Lando, who's peering up at him – face lightly illuminated by the table lamp – with wide, pleading eyes.

"Alright," He finally caves, swallowing down his pride at knowing this isn't going to go well. "But don't expect me to like... yeah. I'm not good at voices, ok?"

Lando beams at him, the one that makes Oscar's heart feel like it's flipped in his chest. In an instant, warm hands dart out from under the blanket and grab his hips, urging him to sit against the headboard.

"Thanks," Lando says, voice already muffled as he tries to nuzzle his nose into Oscar's lap – settling down contentedly with his head on Oscar's thighs, legs curled up into a ball, body completely engulfed in blankets. "Love you," He mumbles, eyes probably closed.

Cracking open the book with one hand, the other already running soothing patterns through Lando's curls, Oscar's heart skips a beat. "Love you too, baby."

[timidpumpkin]

Can you do a stucky little reader? She wakes up sick ( flu symptoms) and they take care of her. Angst and fluff with cute nicknames. 🥺🥺❤️❤️

You had me at angst…and fluff…and cute nicknames…okay you had me at the whole thing🙈🙈💞💞heheh i hope you like it!! I set it in little light universe🫶🫶❤️💙❤️💙

(pictures are not my own)

More Than Anything (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, Implied forced age regression, Sick reader, Meanie bucky, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames.

Word count: 4.2k

It hurts.

“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form. 

“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for. 

Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time. 

It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.

You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.

Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.

“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.

“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help. 

Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately. 

“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily. 

“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.

As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.

“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.

Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.

“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.

“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up. 

“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.

Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement. 

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.

“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.

“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.

Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.

“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.  

“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes. 

“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.

Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.

“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-” 

“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.

“But-”

“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.

“But daddy-”

“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.

“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another. 

Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now. 

“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.

“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel. 

“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”

“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.

Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.

“and quit with the attitude.” 

“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.

You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment. 

Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after. 

You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin. 

After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…

“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.

“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else. 

Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal. 

Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face. 

Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. 

He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you. 

“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear. 

“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle. 

“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again. 

You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch. 

“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.

Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.

“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired. 

“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.

“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.

“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.

He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself. 

Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today. 

“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him. 

Bucky’s face falls. 

All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.

“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry. 

“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.

“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses. 

“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.

“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.

“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place. 

When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers. 

“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.

“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”

“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment. 

“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head. 

“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed. 

It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again. 

Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.

After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine. 

The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.

“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.

“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.

“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.

“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.

“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ‘pill.’

For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face. 

You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember. 

“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it. 

Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did. 

“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”

You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now. 

“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.

“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,”  he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly. 

Daddy’s crazy, you think.

“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.  

“Daddy,” you giggle at him.

“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit. 

“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that. 

Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant. 

“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily. 

“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you. 

You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you’d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.

When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation. 

Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow. 

Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.

“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile. 

“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.

“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit. 

Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat. 

Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.

Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands. 

“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad. 

“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.

“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy. 

Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience. 

Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you. 

“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest. 

“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl

He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets. 

“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in. 

“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”

“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.

“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it. 

“I love you, Doll.” more than anything.

[karkatbug]

I love Grubkat so much with my whole being, and I love the fact that he is getting to grow up loved and cherished and not have to live in fear of himself or his blood color. The fact that both Karkat and Dave have trauma surrounding the color red but won’t allow Grubkat to have that trauma is so important to me. Are they gonna call him anything different to distinguish him and Karkat from each other in name?

They will eventually come up with a name for him, but for now, they have plenty of silly little nicknames to help distinguish him from Karkat!

[ruporas]

Less of a question, more of a compliment, but thank you for your vashwood work, it's beautiful and perfect

🥹 thank you so much for enjoying them, it always means a lot to hear it! here’s a silly doodle…

[lostinthesasuke]

do you think sasuke is religious or upholds his clan's religious practices? i was rereading and in the part where they go to resucitate the hokages orochimaru says "there's nothing left of the uchiha's nakano shrine", to which sasuke answers "the exterior doesn't matter" and it got me wondering

HI YES thank you so much for sending this ask. it's very close to me. elaborated a Lot under the cut but tl;dr - yes.

he is religious in the only way he remembers how to be. preserving Uchiha tradition and culture is deeply important to him. when he said the exterior of Nakano shrine didn't matter, sure he was referring to the fact that there was a hidden underground level... but it meant much more than that.

genocide doesn't just claim lives, it claims languages and religions and every facet of culture. konoha has been known to participate in the censorship and eradication of culture. this assimilation functions as an extension of genocide.

by virtue of being a survivor, i think sasuke feels an obligation to "carry the torch". since he was so young when the massacre occurred, it's likely a lot of practice and customs have been lost altogether. this is distressing to him. even during his character introduction at 12 years old, his clans "restoration" was first and foremost in his mind. to me this statement was never about re-population as many people interpret, but about justice, pride, and culture.

he feels as though the Uchiha name has been "tainted" and it is his responsibility to "purify" it. but what that means to him shifts over time.

the Uchiha clan's religion is obviously based on and deeply tied to the Shinto religion, just like the clan's jutsu and kekkei genkai. many Uchiha jutsu are named after Shinto deities.

this part i am not going to delve into too much yet because one day i will probably write a paper about it, but one of the tenets of Shinto belief is the importance of purity. Shinto practice and customs are regionally variant but the practice of purification is central. death is considered to be extremely impure. this context is deeply relevant to Sasuke's belief system and the way he thinks about himself and his clan.

it is likely that the uchiha religion is closed, evidenced by nakano shrine being kept a secret. sasuke not only has to contend with the fact that the remaining pieces of his culture are guarded and hidden, requiring the use of high-level dojutsu to decipher, but also that any of it may have been altered. the revelation that the stone tablet was altered in order to facilitate madara's manipulation and further subjugation of the uchiha was destabilizing. sasuke has to put the pieces of his religion back together with mostly his memories to rely on.

many parallels can be drawn between sasuke and the sun goddess Amaterasu. when she is betrayed by her brother Susanoo, she withdraws into a cave and plunges the world into darkness. Susanoo conspires to manipulate her into leaving the cave, and then binds her.

this gender reversal is sort of fascinating. Amaterasu and Susanoo contradict the popular notions about the sun and moon and the masculine and feminine. of course this reminds me of sasuke as well, because everything does.

sasuke is typically associated with the waning crescent, the phase just before a new moon, and itachi with a full moon. since sasuke is associated with the moon, the yin, and the feminine, it would logically follow that he would be passive like water; low like a valley. however, he subverts this expectation.

i believe this is a big part of why he makes so many people uncomfortable. he is fire and lightning and he is not a perfect victim.

after speaking to the kage and revealing the secrets of Nakano shrine, he resolves himself to burn the world down and be reborn like a phoenix. like the waning crescent before a new moon.

he is not "pure" the way itachi expects, kishimoto states, or many fans anticipate. he has strong convictions and he is confident. he is not apologetic and he is impossible to ignore.

the first time we ever see sasuke associated with the sun is after he learns the truth about the massacre. he leaves his cave. he sheds hebi and becomes taka, predator instead of prey. he is ready to spill as much blood as it takes.

i have many ideas about what Uchiha religious customs might look like, and many of them concern fire. the uchiwa fan that stokes the flames is their crest. they are seen as fully fledged members of the clan once they can perform katon jutsu. the shrine that houses the Uchiha's patron deity has eternal flames lit.

drawing from my own religion, one of my favorite metas draws a parallel between the Uchiha fire affinity and

אש תמיד (Aish tamid)

which means eternal flame. (sorry for line break, tumblr hates right to left languages). Aish tamid refers to the flame in the temple of Jerusalem that was always kept alight before its desecration by the greeks. just like the torches located in Nakano shrine.

the greeks attempted to hellenize and extinguish Jewish culture. they outlawed observance of Shabbat and circumcision, spat in the face of kashrut by sacrificing pigs in the temple, and even built statues of their gods within. the Jewish people rebelled against them and the flame was rekindled.

rebellion, justice, and pride in culture is in the spirit of fire. unending, always enduring. Sasuke and the Uchiha clan embody this, their crests always emblazoned on their clothes even at the cost of armor. from Madara's rage, to the coup, to Sasuke's revenge, justice is an integral component to the Uchiha ethos.

to me this is a really interesting contrast to the will of fire. the will of fire is the ideal of nationalism-- putting the state before the self. this idea is lauded as heroism. it was originated by the senju, no wonder.

meanwhile, the uchiha clan with their fire affinity and deeply spiritual connection to flame are seen as transgressors. they are seen as disruptive to the ideal of the "will of fire" due to their strong cultural identity. they refuse to assimilate into the dominant culture. they prioritize their love and familial bonds with each other over konoha's interests.

naruto wiki im going to kill you

they are labeled with the opposing "curse of hatred".

it is no surprise then that itachi was praised for his strong "will of fire" for carrying out the massacre-- putting the well-being of the state over the lives of his family. groomed into following the senju doctrine and abandoning his own culture. assimilated and outcast.

in modern culture Aish tamid is kept alight by the continuation of religious practice- praying and studying Torah keep the flame burning. "The exterior doesn't matter". the flame is already burning within Sasuke.

sasuke carries on whatever pieces of his culture he remembers, and he prays in the dark, and he thinks of his mother with her hands clasped at the kamidana, and he visits shrines often on his journey. he lights incense and he burns brightly. and he walks on.

[skeleboy13]

meant to upload these awhile ago but i forgot

[evercelle]

Hi I have been influenced by your amazing art and want to start reading ORV! Would you suggest the webtoon or reading the novel (If you've expereinced both)

P.S LOVE ALL UR ART (VENTI ESPECIALLY )

i've only read the epub thru ch 373 so far (though i checked out a few of the webtoon chapters cuz i wanted to see what the characters looked like). i've vaguely heard ymmv can vary on how some characters are portrayed, but i don't know a lot about it. the art looks great though!

i do think orv has a lot of subtext and subtle details that reward close reading, so i'm reading the epub cuz i can annotate the text as i go... perhaps some other orv readers can give you better suggestions (':

[squidpedia]

Behold, the rest of the Lilacs

POV: YOU ARE AXIS. (yes I replicated how he talks for this because why not)

Ok I really hope I'm not going insane here, but why do the side runs have backgrounds? I always have a transparent background for these because I'm too lazy to, y'know, make some. At least I hope that you see them too and that it's not just a weird me problem. Oh well

OH M YOGDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I CANT STOP STARING THESE ARE SO DARLINGGGGGG

you animate the braids so well i may die and pass away and explode a million times into tears