#and then we'll go get Nova

[disaster-magician]

When ur neighbor will reply to ur other neighbor but not u 😔

(Fake screenshots! These are fan made based on incorrect quotes and not in the game)

[brainisafk]

They have done The Thing. Ouch.

Welcome to the team, Davrin. We're having another crisis immediately, hope you don't mind.

I might be writing another Thing for them already so I guess I should probably go ahead and post the first Thing shouldn't I. >.>

They're off after the rest of the team first thing next time. Then they get to sulk until their Neve comes back. >.>

[radiant-system]

I love that Cruise with Ben and David aren't afraid of being rude to cruise lines. It really makes me feel like I can trust them when they say something is good.

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

Mr. Pickles, your small fluffy dog, has disappeared and your lover goes on a hunt to find him

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Bullseye, Marc Spector, Taskmaster, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, Susan Storm, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa, Elektra Natchios, Muse, Victor von Doom, Peter Quill & Nova

Mr. Pickles is my proudest creation ♡

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter knows what it means to lose something you love. The moment he sees your face, tear-streaked and trembling, he drops everything—his textbooks, his half-eaten sandwich, his entire afternoon—to pull you into his arms. "We'll find him," he whispers into your hair, his voice a promise, a prayer. His mind races with every possibility—where a tiny, fluffy dog could have wandered, what dangers lurk in the city streets. He forces himself to stay lighthearted, for you. "Mr. Pickles is a survivor," he assures you, "just like his mom." But inside, his heart clenches at the thought of you losing something you love. Again.

- He swings across the city, calling the dog's name, peering into alleyways and between dumpsters, ignoring the odd looks from pedestrians below. "C'mon, buddy," he mutters, landing softly on a rooftop. "If I were a small, dumb, fluffy dog, where would I go?" His mask hides his worry, but his pulse betrays him. You had whispered once, in the quiet dark of your shared bed, that Mr. Pickles was there before Peter—that the little dog had curled against you on nights too cold, too lonely to bear. That he had been your solace. Peter clenches his fists. He has to find him.

- Hours pass, and the city hums beneath him, indifferent. He stops only when he hears the faintest whimper from a storm drain, the soft scrape of tiny paws against metal. Relief crashes over him so fast he almost collapses. "Oh, Mr. Pickles, you little troublemaker," he breathes, scooping the trembling dog into his arms. The weight of him, warm and alive, nearly makes Peter cry. He presses his forehead against the dog's tiny head. "Your mom's gonna kill me if I bring you back dirty," he laughs, voice shaking.

- When he swings through your window, landing with a soft thud, you barely get the chance to register his presence before he's pushing Mr. Pickles into your arms. You sob into the dog's soft fur, and Peter watches, eyes warm, body aching with love. Then, when you finally look up at him, when your beautiful face splits into the most brilliant, teary smile, Peter Parker knows—he would search a thousand cities, lift a thousand storm drain covers, break apart the world itself if it meant keeping that smile.

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- "It’s just a dog," Tony had said at first, exhaling through his nose, watching you pace the length of his penthouse with wild, desperate eyes. But then you turned to him, looking at him like he had just shattered the universe, and something in his chest tightened. "Okay, okay, bad choice of words," he amended quickly, setting down his glass of scotch. "We’ll find him, sweetheart. Trust me." He kissed your forehead, and when he pulled away, he was already barking orders at J.A.R.V.I.S. to scan the streets.

- The city is his playground, and when Tony Stark hunts, nothing escapes him. Drones sweep over sidewalks, infrared cameras scan the gutters, and his A.I. combs through every security feed within a ten-block radius. It should be easy, finding something small, white, and fluffy. But as the hours stretch, as your voice cracks when you call Mr. Pickles’ name into the empty night, Tony feels something unfamiliar claw at his throat. Panic. Helplessness. He can build weapons that level cities, fly into warzones, rewrite the future with his mind, but he can’t stop the way your hands shake. He can’t fix this with money or brilliance. He just has to find that damn dog.

- And then—finally—one of his drones pings. A little white fluffball, trapped behind the fence of a construction site, tail wagging pathetically, waiting. Tony exhales sharply. "Gotcha, you little idiot," he murmurs, already summoning the nearest Iron Man suit. He could call someone, sure. Could send a bot, have the dog airlifted in a grand display of Stark-level theatrics. But he doesn’t. Because he wants to be the one to bring him home to you. He wants to be the reason your eyes stop looking so haunted.

- When he steps through the front door, Mr. Pickles in his arms, you don’t hesitate. You throw yourself at him, burying your face in his chest, shaking with relief. Tony doesn’t joke. Doesn’t smirk. He just holds you, one hand stroking your hair, the other keeping a firm grip on the tiny dog between you. He sighs against your temple. "Next time, we’re microchipping this little bastard," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. But the truth is, if it meant making you happy, Tony Stark would search the ends of the earth for that damn dog again. And again. And again.

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- You are inconsolable. Steve sees it in the way you sit curled on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself like you are holding something together. The sight alone shatters him. He kneels before you, his large hands settling over your trembling ones, his voice low, steady. "We’ll find him, sweetheart. I swear." His words are a shield, a promise carved from the same steel as his bones. Because he will find Mr. Pickles, if only to take that sorrow from your eyes.

- He searches the old-fashioned way. No drones, no high-tech satellites. Just a man and his will. He jogs through the streets, stopping people with a polite, firm urgency, showing a picture of your dog on his phone. He speaks to shopkeepers, to children on bicycles, to the kind-faced woman selling flowers on the corner. Every second counts. But even as his pulse quickens, as the sun dips behind the skyline, he doesn't waver. The world has taken too much from him already—he will not let it take this from you.

- He finds Mr. Pickles in a tiny park, curled up beneath a bench, his fur damp with the evening dew. Steve exhales a deep, relieved breath, crouching slowly, his voice softer than a whisper. "Hey there, buddy," he murmurs, extending a careful hand. The dog whimpers, then leaps into his arms as if he knows—knows this man, knows that Steve Rogers is the safest place in the world.

- When Steve carries him home, you are waiting at the door, your beautiful face lit by the glow of the porchlight, eyes wide with hope. And then—joy. You let out a breathless sob, scooping the dog into your arms, pressing frantic kisses into his fur. Steve watches, his heart twisting in his chest. Then you turn to him, eyes glistening, and throw your arms around his neck. He catches you, as he always will, burying his face into your shoulder. "Told you I’d find him," he murmurs, holding you as tightly as he can.

Thor

- The moment Thor sees your sorrow, it is as if the very sky darkens. "Your heart aches," he rumbles, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "This shall not stand." And with that, he strides from the room, determination crackling in his wake. He does not understand how something so small could mean so much—but he does not need to understand. He only needs to act.

- He searches with the force of a storm. He speaks to the wind, commanding it to carry your dog’s scent across the city. He calls down thunder, demanding the heavens show him where your little beast has gone. Mortals look on in awe as the god of thunder strides through the streets, golden hair windswept, cape billowing. "MR. PICKLES!" his voice booms, rattling windows. "SHOW THYSELF, TINY WARRIOR!"

- And then, a soft yip—so small, so insignificant against the noise of the city, yet Thor hears it as clear as a battle cry. He finds Mr. Pickles atop a fruit cart, having somehow clambered to its highest peak. The vendor stares, frozen, as Thor reaches out, plucking the tiny dog from the pile of apples. "A most daring escape," Thor muses, holding the squirming fluff in one enormous hand. "You are braver than you appear, small one."

- When he returns to you, the dog safely in his arms, you let out a breathless, laughing sob. "You found him," you whisper. Thor beams. "Of course I did, my love," he declares, sweeping you—dog and all—into his arms. "No force in this realm shall keep what is yours from you.”

Loki

- Loki does not understand the gravity of it at first. A small creature, insignificant in size and strength, lost in the chaos of Midgard—what of it? But then he sees your face, the way grief pools in your beautiful eyes, the tremor in your hands as you call the dog’s name into the empty night. He watches, silent, as sorrow sinks its fangs into you. And suddenly, the matter is no longer trivial. The world may not care for Mr. Pickles, but you do. And Loki… Loki cares for you.

- He does not search as mortals do. No, he does not waste time scouring streets like a fool. He summons illusions, a hundred spectral versions of himself that spill into the city like shadows, slipping through alleyways, gliding across rooftops, whispering Mr. Pickles’s name to the wind. Magic coils at his fingertips, weaving through the currents of the world, seeking out the pulse of something small, something white and ridiculous. “Where have you gone, little fool?” he murmurs to the void. “Your mistress grieves for you. And I will not allow it.”

- The answer comes in a flicker of magic—an image flashing behind his eyes. A storm drain, deep beneath the city streets, where a tiny, trembling thing curls into itself. Loki sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple. “Of course,” he mutters, exasperated. Then, in a breath, he is there—appearing in a ripple of green light, boots sinking into damp concrete. The dog yelps, startled, but Loki merely raises an eyebrow. “You are filthier than I expected,” he muses, kneeling. Mr. Pickles stares, wide-eyed. Loki clicks his tongue. “Come now, do not be tiresome. Your lady awaits.”

- When he steps into your home, dog cradled in his arms like an offering, you let out a choked breath. Relief breaks across your face, radiant and overwhelming. You snatch Mr. Pickles from his grasp, burying your face in his fur, and for a moment, you are too consumed by joy to speak. Loki watches, arms crossed, head tilting. "You are lucky I find your devotion endearing," he drawls. Then, softer, he reaches out, fingertips ghosting along your cheek. "Do not grieve again, darling. I find I have little patience for it."

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint knows what loss does to a person. Knows how it hollows them out, how it lingers in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. He sees it now, creeping into the corners of your beautiful face, sinking into the line of your shoulders. And he hates it. So, with a sharp breath and a determined set to his jaw, he presses a kiss to your forehead and grabs his jacket. “Don’t worry, babe,” he says, shouldering his bow. “I’ll bring the little guy home.”

- He moves through the city like he was born to it—quick, sharp-eyed, hands in his pockets as he scans every street, every alley. He whistles low and easy, calling Mr. Pickles’s name like he’s coaxing an old friend. He asks the vendors, the cab drivers, the kids playing basketball on the corner. And when that doesn’t work, he climbs. Up onto fire escapes, across rooftops, perching on ledges with the keen gaze of a predator. His archer’s eyes miss nothing. Somewhere down there, a small dumb dog is waiting to be found.

- It takes time, but eventually, he hears it—a faint, frantic yipping from behind a chain-link fence, where Mr. Pickles has somehow managed to trap himself in a tangle of garbage cans. Clint huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re really makin’ me work for it, huh, buddy?” The dog’s tail wags furiously at the sight of him. Clint doesn’t hesitate; he scales the fence in seconds, dropping down effortlessly. “C’mere, troublemaker,” he murmurs, scooping the tiny thing into his arms. “Your mom’s losing her mind over you.”

- When he walks through the door, Mr. Pickles wriggling excitedly in his grasp, you gasp, half laughing, half crying. “Clint!” And before he can react, you throw your arms around him, pressing desperate kisses to his jaw, his cheeks, his lips. Clint grins, warmth curling in his chest, burying his face in your hair. “Told ya I’d bring him back,” he murmurs. Then, pulling back just enough to look at you, voice teasing, “How ‘bout a reward for the hero?”

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha does not waste words on comfort. She sees the way your hands twist together, the way your breath hitches unevenly, and she simply touches your arm—firm, steady. "I’ll find him," she says, no hesitation, no doubt. And then she is gone, slipping into the night like a ghost, like a promise.

- Her search is meticulous, methodical. She moves through the city like a shadow, unseen, unheard. She checks every corner, every crevice, following the trail with a hunter’s patience. She kneels in the dirt, fingers brushing over the faintest paw prints. She watches surveillance footage from gas stations and convenience stores, scanning for any glimpse of white fur. Nothing escapes her. Nothing ever does.

- And then, finally, she finds him. A scared little thing, shivering beneath an abandoned car, too afraid to move. Natasha exhales slowly, lowering herself onto her stomach, voice quiet, gentle. "Hey, малыш," she murmurs. "Been having an adventure, huh?" Mr. Pickles hesitates—then, with a whimper, scrambles toward her. She catches him easily, tucking him against her chest. "Good boy," she whispers, stroking his tiny head. "Let’s get you home."

- When she returns, she says nothing—just steps into the room, holding out the small, trembling dog. The sound you make is small, broken, and then you are running to her, hands shaking as you take Mr. Pickles into your arms. Natasha watches, something warm and aching unfurling in her chest. And when you turn to her, whispering "Thank you," voice thick with emotion, she simply pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Always," she murmurs.

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

- Bucky knows the weight of grief. Knows how it clings to the ribs, how it turns the world gray. When he sees it on you, something inside him twists. He cups your face, brushing his thumbs beneath your eyes, steel and flesh both warm against your skin. “I’ll get him back,” he says, voice rough, edged with quiet desperation. “I swear it.”

- He searches with the kind of relentless patience only a soldier possesses. He moves through the city in silence, scanning every street, listening, waiting. His training takes over—tracking, reading the subtle disturbances in the world. A knocked-over trash can. A set of tiny paw prints in the dust. He follows them like a wolf on a scent, every step precise, measured. He does not stop. He does not falter.

- He finds Mr. Pickles curled up on a stranger’s doorstep, looking lost and exhausted. Bucky crouches slowly, voice soft. “Hey there, little guy.” The dog perks up, ears twitching. A moment passes—then Mr. Pickles scrambles into his arms, pressing his tiny face against Bucky’s chest. The super-soldier lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

- When he brings Mr. Pickles home, you make a sound—something between a sob and a laugh—and Bucky barely has time to react before you are clinging to him, burying your face in his shoulder. He holds you tightly, breathing you in, grounding himself in your warmth. “Told you I’d find him,” he mutters into your hair. And when you pull back, eyes shining, hands cradling his face, Bucky Barnes knows—he would walk through fire for you. Would chase down a hundred lost things, just to keep you from breaking.

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

- It starts with the sound of your voice breaking. A sharp inhale, a stumble of words, a silence where there should be breath. Matt’s head snaps up immediately, his whole body tensing like a wire pulled too tight. “What’s wrong?” he asks, already moving toward you, already reaching. And then you say it, voice trembling. “Mr. Pickles is gone.” The world tilts. He doesn’t need sight to know the grief settling in your frame, the way your arms are wrapped around yourself like a shield. He takes your hands, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll find him,” he promises. “I swear.”

- The city is an orchestra of noise and movement, but Matt filters through it with razor precision. He follows the trail of memory—the last place you saw Mr. Pickles, the familiar scuffle of tiny paws on pavement. He kneels in alleyways, fingertips ghosting over the ground, feeling for the faintest traces: a disturbed patch of dust, a scent still lingering in the air. He listens. A hundred heartbeats, a thousand voices, the ever-present hum of New York’s restless energy. And then—there. A frantic, rapid little rhythm, lost beneath a fire escape.

- He moves quickly, scaling the metal with effortless grace, landing silently in the narrow space behind the building. Mr. Pickles is trembling beneath an old wooden crate, his tiny frame pressed into the shadows. “Hey, buddy,” Matt murmurs, crouching low. “You gave us a scare.” The dog yelps as Matt reaches out, but there’s no hesitation in his hands, only certainty. Warmth. He scoops Mr. Pickles up, tucking him close, fingers gentle against soft fur. “Let’s get you home.”

- The moment Matt steps through the door, you let out a breath that shatters into relief. He barely has time to react before you are in his arms, hands in his hair, lips pressing desperately against his. Mr. Pickles wiggles between you, but neither of you care. Matt holds you tighter, his own relief threading through his pulse. “Told you,” he breathes against your mouth. “I’d never let you lose something you love.”

Frank Castle (Punisher)

- You’re crying, and that alone is enough to ignite something violent in Frank. His hands clench into fists, his jaw locks tight, his body coils with the instinct to hunt. But there’s no enemy here. No one to punish. Just you, beautiful and wrecked, your hands trembling as you whisper, “Frank, I can’t find him.” He exhales slow, steady, pushing down the fury. His hands cup your face, rough thumbs brushing over wet cheeks. “I’ll get ‘im back,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

- His search is relentless. Frank moves through the city with soldier’s efficiency, checking every street corner, every back alley, every goddamn sewer grate if he has to. He interrogates people without mercy, his voice low and dangerous as he asks, “You seen a little white dog around here?” Nobody dares to lie to him. He is a shadow in the night, a force of nature, and nothing—not time, not distance, not God himself—will stop him from bringing your dog back.

- Eventually, he finds Mr. Pickles cornered by a stray, trapped between a chain-link fence and a growling, desperate mutt twice his size. Frank doesn’t hesitate. One sharp whistle, one step forward, and the stray bolts. “Damn idiot,” he mutters, kneeling. Mr. Pickles stares up at him, wide-eyed and shaking. “You’re lucky she loves you,” Frank grumbles, scooping him up, pressing the dog to his chest with surprising gentleness. “Otherwise, you’d be on your own, dumbass.”

- When he gets home, you’re waiting at the door, eyes raw with worry. The second you see him, you choke out a gasp, arms reaching. Frank hands Mr. Pickles over, watching as you cradle the tiny thing like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He exhales, runs a hand through his hair, and then you’re kissing him—deep, breathless, full of gratitude. His hands grip your waist, pulling you close, his voice rough against your lips. “Told you I’d fix it, baby.”

Bullseye (Lester)

- “You’re joking.” But the look on your face tells him you’re not. And the worst part? He cares. Too much. About you, about the way your lip trembles, about the devastation in your beautiful, stupid eyes. His fingers twitch, the urge to break something crawling under his skin. He can kill a man from a mile away with a paperclip, but he can’t fix this. Not with a bullet, not with a blade. “Shit,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. Then, voice dark with resolve—“I’ll find the little bastard.”

- Lester doesn’t search like a normal person. No, he turns the whole goddamn city into his hunting ground. He perches on rooftops, scanning the streets below with hawk-like precision. He talks to informants, threatens people in back alleys, flips a knife between his fingers as he leans in close and growls, “If I were a tiny dumb dog, where the hell would I be?” Nobody dares to waste his time.

- He finally spots Mr. Pickles trapped on a moving truck, the tiny idiot balancing on the edge, about to tumble onto the freeway. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Lester moves before he thinks. A perfect throw—his knife slicing through the air, puncturing the truck’s tire. It screeches to a halt, and before anyone can react, he’s already there, snatching Mr. Pickles up. “You got a goddamn death wish?” he mutters, tucking the tiny dog under his jacket. “Let’s get you home before I start regretting this.”

- The second he walks in, you’re on him, eyes wide with relief. You press kisses over his face, his jaw, whispering, “Thank you, thank you.” Lester smirks, tilting his head. “Y’know, I don’t do this rescue shit for just anyone.” You arch a brow. “Oh?” His grin sharpens. “Yeah. So, how ‘bout you thank me properly?” His hands slip around your waist, pulling you in, his lips brushing your ear. “In bed.”

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- He knows loss. Knows the way it digs into the ribs, the way it carves out something hollow in your chest. And when he sees that same ache in your eyes, his heart clenches. “I’ll find him,” he says, his voice low, steady. His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking soft against your cheeks. “I won’t let you lose him.”

- He moves through the night like a phantom, like a god of the hunt. Moonlight glints off his armor as he scales rooftops, his senses sharp, his pulse steady. He tracks the city like a predator—footprints in the dust, paw marks in the mud, the scent of something small and lost. Every streetlamp flickers as he passes, every shadow seems to bend toward him. He is relentless.

- He finds Mr. Pickles huddled in the hollow of a tree in Central Park, shivering, tiny paws covered in dirt. Marc exhales, dropping into a crouch, his cape pooling around him. “Hey, little guy,” he murmurs. “Scared?” The dog lets out a small whimper, tail tucked. “Yeah,” Marc sighs. “Me too, sometimes.” He reaches out, slow and patient. Mr. Pickles hesitates—then, finally, clambers into his arms. Marc holds him close, pressing his forehead to soft fur. “Let’s get you home.”

- When he returns, you break. Your arms wrap around him, your whole body trembling with relief. Marc holds you, silent, solid, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “Thank you,” you whisper. He exhales, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll always bring back what you love,” he murmurs. “Always.”

Taskmaster (Tony Masters)

- You are pacing. Your hands are shaking. Your lips are parted as if you want to say something, but no words come. Tony watches, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. His skull mask tilts ever so slightly. “You’re stressin’ over a dog,” he drawls, but there’s something in his voice—not mockery, not amusement, just observation. You shoot him a sharp look, eyes shining with unshed tears, and that’s all it takes. His posture shifts, his fingers flex, his weight shifts onto the balls of his feet. A mission, then. “Alright,” he mutters. “Let’s go hunt.”

- Tony doesn’t search. He tracks. He moves like a predator, analyzing the world through the same ruthless lens he uses in combat. He remembers the way Mr. Pickles moves, the rhythm of his little paws on the floor, the places he lingers longest. He follows invisible trails, crouching low to examine scuff marks on the sidewalk, flicking his hood up as he moves through the city like a ghost. He doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t need it.

- He finds Mr. Pickles before dawn, stuck in a drainage pipe, trembling but unharmed. Tony crouches, tilting his head. “Y’know,” he muses, voice low and sardonic, “for a dumb little mutt, you got a lotta guts runnin’ off like that.” Mr. Pickles whimpers. Tony sighs. “Yeah, yeah. C’mere.” He reaches in, grips the tiny dog by the scruff, and lifts him effortlessly. There’s a moment of silence as he looks at the tiny, ridiculous creature. Then, begrudgingly, softly—“Good boy.”

- When he returns, you practically crash into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He stiffens for half a second—then melts. Your lips find his jaw, his cheek, his mouth, whispering endless thank-yous. Tony smirks against your lips. “Told ya I’d find ‘im,” he murmurs. His gloved hands tighten on your waist. “Now, you gonna give me a reward, or what?”

Johnny Storm (Human Torch)

- The second you realize Mr. Pickles is missing, you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. Johnny is beside you instantly, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands gripping yours. “Hey, hey, hey, no tears, babe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re gonna find him.” You shake your head, voice breaking. “But what if—” Johnny cuts you off with a grin, cupping your cheeks. “Nope. No ‘what ifs.’ You and me? We got this.” His eyes flicker with fire. “And lucky for you, I’m kinda the fastest guy around.”

- He takes off like a shooting star, flames trailing behind him as he soars above the city, scanning the streets below. He shouts Mr. Pickles’ name at the top of his lungs, occasionally stopping to ask strangers, “Hey, seen a fluffy little guy runnin’ around?” He speeds down alleyways, streaks of fire illuminating the dark corners, his energy boundless, relentless. It’s not just about finding the dog—it’s about fixing you. About bringing back the light in your eyes.

- Finally, he spots a flash of white fur near a hot dog stand. Mr. Pickles is standing on his tiny hind legs, trying to steal a bite from an unsuspecting tourist. Johnny lets out a relieved laugh, swooping down. “Oh my God, you little menace,” he groans, scooping the dog up. “You had her crying, dude! Not cool.” Mr. Pickles licks his face. Johnny sighs, tucking him under his arm. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I’m a sucker.”

- When he gets home, you’re standing by the door, breath held tight in your chest. The moment you see them, you let out a half-sob, half-laugh, arms flinging around both Johnny and Mr. Pickles. “Told ya,” Johnny murmurs against your hair, grinning. “Flame on, baby. Fastest rescue in history.” He leans in, voice dropping. “Now, how ‘bout you show me just how grateful you are?”

Reed Richards (Mister Fantastic)

- The moment you realize Mr. Pickles is missing, you don’t even need to say anything. Reed notices the micro-expressions on your face, the tiny shift in your breathing, the way your fingers twitch like they don’t know where to go. He sets his book down immediately. “I assume,” he says, in that calm, measured way of his, “that we are dealing with an emergency.” You nod, lip trembling, and he reaches out, brushing a gentle hand against your wrist. “Then let’s begin our search.”

- He doesn’t waste time. He maps out the city in his head, calculating Mr. Pickles’ likely movement patterns based on past behavior, environmental factors, and canine psychology. He extends his limbs, stretching impossibly long, weaving through traffic and alleyways, covering more ground in minutes than most could in hours. Occasionally, he stops to scan the area with a handheld device he designed on the spot to track small biological signatures. Mr. Pickles is, unfortunately, an unpredictable anomaly. But Reed does not believe in unsolvable problems.

- At last, he finds the dog nestled inside the engine of a parked car, trapped but unharmed. “Ah,” Reed murmurs, extending a flexible arm to gently extract him. “A remarkably foolish but statistically predictable hiding spot.” Mr. Pickles whimpers. Reed tucks him against his chest, adjusting his glasses. “I would advise against repeating this experiment.”

- When he returns, you nearly collapse in relief. You take Mr. Pickles from his arms, cradling him, whispering his name over and over. Reed watches you for a moment, expression unreadable—then, finally, he steps forward, cupping your face. “There was never a doubt,” he says softly, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead. “I will always solve any problem that brings you pain.”

Ben Grimm (The Thing)

- “Aw, hell.” The moment you start crying, Ben is done. He has no idea what to do, how to fix it, how to stop that horrible look on your face. He’s good at breaking things, not putting them back together. But this? This, he can try to fix. He places a massive, careful hand on your back. “Don’tchu worry, sweetheart. We’re gonna get yer lil’ guy back. Just leave it to ol’ Ben.”

- He scours the city on foot, his heavy footsteps echoing through the streets. People move out of his way as he calls out, “MR. PICKLES! C’MON, BUDDY!” He checks every alley, every trash can, even gets on his hands and knees to peek under cars. He talks to street vendors, cab drivers, little kids—anyone who might’ve seen a small, fluffy blur.

- After what feels like forever, he finally hears a familiar yipping sound. He turns, spotting Mr. Pickles perched on top of a hot dog cart, happily munching away. Ben groans, shaking his head. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me.” He reaches out, scooping up the tiny troublemaker in one massive hand. “Yer givin’ me gray hairs, ya dumb mutt.” Mr. Pickles wags his tail. “Yeah, yeah,” Ben mutters. “Let’s getcha home.”

- The second he steps inside, you sprint toward him, practically climbing his massive frame to get to Mr. Pickles. “Thank you,” you whisper over and over, eyes shining with gratitude. Ben rubs the back of his neck, cheeks going a little too orange. “Ah, it’s nothin’,” he grumbles. But when you lean up and press a kiss to his rocky jaw, he goes still. Then, with a soft chuckle, he wraps you up in the safest, warmest embrace you’ve ever known. “Anythin’ for you, doll.”

Susan Storm (Invisible Woman)

- The moment she sees the distress in your eyes, the tremble in your fingers, Susan moves with the quiet urgency of someone who has carried the weight of others for as long as she can remember. “We’ll find him,” she promises, voice steady, hands cupping your face. She presses her lips to your forehead, a whisper of warmth against your skin. There is no hesitation in her. No doubt. Only unwavering resolve. “Just hold on, love. I won’t stop until he’s back in your arms.”

- Susan moves like the wind—unseen, yet everywhere. Her force fields expand in rippling waves, creating invisible barriers to guide the search, sealing off streets, preventing Mr. Pickles from wandering further. She steps through the city like a ghost, her presence unnoticed by the world, her focus honed to a razor’s edge. She asks the right people, checks every hidden corner, listens for the frantic patter of tiny paws.

- When she finds him—trapped in a fenced-off garden, too small to climb back out—her breath catches in relief. She kneels, extending a hand. “There you are, sweetheart,” she murmurs, voice softer than the dawn. Mr. Pickles hesitates, then scurries into her arms. She holds him close, invisible tears slipping down her cheeks. “You scared us, little one,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his fur.

- When she returns, you barely have time to react before she’s wrapping you up in her arms, pressing you close, Mr. Pickles nestled between you. “Told you,” she breathes into your hair. “I’ll always bring you back what you love.” And then, because she cannot help herself, because she needs to erase the sadness she saw on your face—she tilts your chin up, kisses you slow and deep, sealing her promise with something stronger than words.

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)

- “Oh, baby,” Felicia purrs, cupping your face in her gloved hands, brushing her thumbs over your cheekbones. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll break my heart.” There’s a playful tilt to her lips, but her eyes—sharp, feline, dangerous—gleam with something softer. Something devoted. “No one takes from me,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Not even fate. And definitely not some city street swallowing up our little guy.”

- She moves through the city with the grace of something not quite human, slipping through the shadows, scaling rooftops, landing lightly on balcony railings as she surveys the streets below. The city belongs to her in a way it never will to anyone else—its secrets, its dark corners, its hidden treasures. And tonight, the only treasure she seeks is a tiny, fluffy menace named Mr. Pickles.

- She finds him at the docks, standing nose-to-nose with a massive alley cat. “Oh, sweetie,” Felicia sighs, perching on the edge of a crate. “Making enemies already?” The alley cat hisses. Mr. Pickles barks back, fearless in his stupidity. Felicia chuckles, scooping him up effortlessly. “You really are my type,” she teases, nuzzling him before vanishing back into the night.

- When she returns, she doesn’t give you a chance to react. She drops Mr. Pickles into your lap, then straddles you, tangling her fingers in your hair, kissing you like she’s staking a claim. “Mine,” she murmurs against your lips. “You. The mutt. Everything. Mine.” Her voice is velvet and sin, but there’s something deeper there, something unspoken. She saved your dog because she would burn the world down before she let you cry.

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- He watches you, standing in the Sanctum’s grand hall, your arms wrapped around yourself, your breath unsteady. A storm brewing behind your eyes. Stephen has faced nightmares made flesh, walked through dimensions of madness, fought gods and demons alike—but none of it compares to the sheer, unbearable helplessness of seeing you in pain. He exhales slowly, gathering himself. “I will fix this,” he vows, voice a quiet thunder. “I will bring him back.”

- He opens portals, stepping between realms, searching beyond the limits of the ordinary. His cloak flutters behind him as he moves through the city, eyes glowing with eldritch energy, scanning for the telltale imprint of Mr. Pickles’ presence. He does not guess. He calculates. He peers into the threads of time, tracing the tiny, insignificant path of one small life—because no life is insignificant if it matters to you.

- He finds Mr. Pickles caught in a drainpipe, whimpering, his fluffy fur dirtied with city grime. Stephen kneels, murmuring a soft incantation, and the pipe bends, the metal warping to free its prisoner. “You,” he mutters, scooping the dog up with the same careful precision he uses when handling mystical artifacts, “are far more trouble than your size should allow.” Mr. Pickles yips. Stephen sighs. “Yes, yes. Let’s go home.”

- When he steps back through the portal, you are waiting, eyes wide, body trembling. Before you can speak, he hands you the dog, then—without a word—pulls you into his arms. His fingers tangle in your hair, his lips press to your temple. “Do not look at me like I have done something extraordinary,” he murmurs. “You should know by now—I would defy the laws of the universe for you.”

Namor (The Sub-Mariner)

- “This is unacceptable.” His voice is steel wrapped in silk, his eyes burning with the fire of a thousand storms. He stands before you like a god carved from the depths, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set with unshakable determination. “No creature that belongs to you shall be lost. The world will return him to you—or it will suffer for its defiance.”

- He commands the sea, bending its will to his own, sending forth silent summons to the creatures of the deep. Whales sing in the distance, dolphins weave through the harbor, seabirds circle the skies, their sharp eyes scanning the city for one foolishly misplaced pet. Namor himself moves like the tide—relentless, unstoppable. The people part for him as he walks the streets, his presence commanding, his gaze sharp enough to cut through the city itself.

- He finds Mr. Pickles tangled in a fishing net near the docks, a group of sailors laughing at the tiny creature’s predicament. Namor does not speak. He does not warn. He simply moves, and the air itself seems to bow before him. The sailors stumble back as he lifts the dog with regal precision, eyes flashing like the heart of a storm. “You belong to her,” he murmurs, brushing a careful thumb over the tiny head. “And that means you belong to me.”

- When he returns, he does not wait for gratitude. He places Mr. Pickles in your arms, then tilts your chin up, studying your face. “Never doubt,” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous, intimate, “that what is yours is mine to protect.” His lips brush against yours, the ghost of a promise. “And I do not lose.”

Johnny Blaze (Ghost Rider)

- Johnny has seen hell. He has ridden through the infernal flames, faced demons that would drive lesser men to madness, and carried the weight of sins that do not belong to him. But nothing—nothing—unnerves him quite like the sight of you, beautiful and heartbroken, with tears trembling in your eyes. “We’ll find him,” he says, his voice rough, calloused like his hands. He brushes his thumb over your cheek, gentle in a way most wouldn’t expect from a man like him. “I swear on my goddamn soul, sweetheart. We’ll get your boy back.”

- He revs up his bike, and the night itself seems to shudder in response. The wheels burn with hellfire as he tears through the streets, eyes glowing with something unnatural, something righteous. He hunts like a predator, cutting through alleyways, questioning people in that low, gravelly voice that makes even the toughest criminals step back. His shadow looms long and unrelenting, the scent of brimstone trailing in his wake.

- He finds Mr. Pickles at the edge of a junkyard, trapped between rusted metal and the prying claws of something dark and rabid. A hellhound, perhaps, sensing something of Johnny in the small creature. The Rider emerges then, the chain coiling in his grip like a living thing. “You picked the wrong damn dog,” he growls, and in one flaming strike, the beast vanishes into nothingness. Johnny kneels, picking up the trembling ball of fluff. “Come on, little guy,” he mutters. “Let’s get you home.”

- When he returns, he doesn’t say a word—just walks straight to you, places Mr. Pickles in your arms, and wraps his arms around both of you. His forehead presses against yours, his breath warm and tinged with smoke. “Told ya,” he murmurs, voice low, gravel scraping against velvet. “I’d go to hell and back for you. And I will—whenever you ask.”

Eddie Brock / Venom

- “Oh, babe,” Eddie sighs, running a hand down his face as he watches you crumple onto the couch, Mr. Pickles nowhere to be found. His heart clenches. He’s not good at this—comfort. But he tries. “We’ll find him,” he promises, kneeling in front of you, gripping your hands like an anchor. “Me and Venom, we’ll tear the whole damn city apart if we have to.”

- “YES,” Venom rumbles, the symbiote’s voice crawling up Eddie’s spine. “THE LITTLE FLUFF CREATURE BELONGS TO US. WE WILL DEVOUR ANY WHO HARM HIM.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but the truth is—he’s grateful. With Venom’s heightened senses, they scour the city like something primal, moving through rooftops, slithering through the underbelly of New York, sniffing out every trace of their tiny, ridiculous prey.

- They find Mr. Pickles cowering near a dumpster, shaking but unharmed. “HE IS SAFE,” Venom declares, wrapping tendrils around the small creature, lifting him gently. Eddie sighs, rubbing his temples. “You look like an idiot,” he tells Mr. Pickles, though there’s no real heat in his voice. Venom coils protectively around the dog. “HE IS OURS NOW.”

- When they return, Eddie barely has time to react before you throw yourself at him, clutching Mr. Pickles between you. He grunts, but his arms instinctively come around you, holding tight. Venom purrs—purrs. Eddie groans. “Great. Now I got two clingy idiots.” But then he buries his face in your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa is a man of unshakable control, a king whose every step is measured, every breath purposeful. But when he sees you—so strong, so fierce, now unraveled by something as small and precious as a missing dog—his heart tightens. He cups your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. “I will not let you suffer,” he murmurs. “No matter how small the loss may seem to others, I know it is not small to you.”

- The Dora Milaje move swiftly, Wakandan technology scanning the city with ruthless efficiency. But T’Challa does not simply stand by—he hunts. He moves like a shadow through the streets, his senses sharper than any mortal’s, his agility unmatched. He does not run. He glides, a predator in the night, every step silent as he follows the invisible trail of a tiny, lost thing.

- He finds Mr. Pickles at the feet of a would-be thief, a man who thought stealing a small, expensive-looking dog might earn him a quick payday. The man doesn’t even see T’Challa before he’s on him, a whisper of claws, a silent strike. The thief crumples before he even knows what happened. T’Challa picks up Mr. Pickles, cradling the tiny creature with surprising tenderness. “You have caused quite the commotion, little one,” he murmurs.

- When he returns, he does not speak right away—simply hands Mr. Pickles to you and watches as relief floods your face. And then, with the grace of a ruler, the ferocity of a warrior, he kneels before you, his hands on your waist, his lips ghosting over your knuckles. “You are my heart,” he whispers. “And I will always return to you what you love.”

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra does not love lightly. Love, to her, is a battlefield—something you fight for, something you bleed for. And so when she sees you, eyes red-rimmed, body curled in grief over your missing dog, something inside her snaps. She kneels before you, takes your hands, and presses a kiss to your wrist. “He will be found,” she vows, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. “And those who took him will regret it.”

- She moves through the city like a blade, slipping between buildings, whispering threats in the ears of informants. She is not gentle in her search—Elektra is a storm, a hurricane dressed in crimson, and when she wants answers, she gets them. The city bends before her, criminals whispering her name in fear as she cuts a path through the underworld, searching for a dog that dared to run from you.

- She finds Mr. Pickles in the hands of a smuggler, tucked beneath a coat, a prize to be sold. Elektra does not speak. She does not negotiate. She simply moves. The fight is over in seconds—bones breaking, a body crumpling, the sound of breath stolen away. She lifts Mr. Pickles into her arms, brushing blood-stained fingers over his fur. “You are lucky,” she tells him, voice a deadly lullaby. “She loves you. That is why you are alive.”

- When she returns, she does not hand him over immediately. Instead, she tilts your chin up, studies your face with eyes that have seen too much, and kisses you—deep, slow, possessive. And then, finally, she places Mr. Pickles in your hands. “He is safe,” she murmurs, brushing her lips over your forehead. “Because you are mine. And nothing that is yours will ever be taken from you.”

Muse

- Muse does not understand grief in the way others do. Suffering, to him, is art. Blood, tears, sorrow—they are strokes on a canvas, fleeting expressions of beauty. But when he sees you undone, sadness spilling from you like a watercolor bleeding into the edges of the world, something inside him twists. He tilts his head, dark eyes drinking you in, committing your heartbreak to memory. “You are beautiful when you mourn,” he murmurs, almost dreamlike. But then, softer, something close to reverence—“Tell me who I must bleed.”

- He moves through the city like a ghost, a whisper lost in the wind. No doors stop him, no walls contain him. He slithers between cracks in the world, past flickering streetlights, through alleys where rats scurry at his presence. He listens—to the murmurs of the city, to the stutter of fearful hearts, to the stories inked in dried blood on concrete. He sketches shapes in the air as he moves, painting Mr. Pickles’s outline with invisible strokes, willing the world to yield its secrets.

- He finds the dog in a forgotten place—a shuttered church, abandoned and hollow, where the echoes of old prayers cling to rotting wood. Mr. Pickles is curled beneath the altar, lost in something greater than himself, a dumb, small creature in a world too vast. Muse crouches before him, fingers brushing the cold stone. “Even the most foolish of things seek sanctuary,” he murmurs. He lifts the dog into his arms like a relic, cradling him as one would a delicate masterpiece.

- When he returns, he does not hand the creature to you immediately. Instead, he watches you, drinking in the relief that softens your grief, the way you tremble with something raw. “Your sadness was divine,” he tells you, his voice reverent, worshipful. “But your joy—” He steps closer, his breath a whisper against your skin. “Your joy is the kind of art that kills.” And then, at last, he places Mr. Pickles in your hands, his fingers lingering, his head tilting as if considering whether to carve this moment into eternity.

Victor von Doom (Dr. Doom)

- Doom does not tolerate imperfection. The world is a broken thing, filled with fragile creatures who tremble at the weight of their own insignificance. But you—you are not insignificant. You are his, and that means you are above such things as sorrow. And yet, here you stand, shattered by the absence of something as small, as foolish, as utterly unworthy as a dog. He cups your face in his gauntleted hands, his voice a low command. “You will not despair. Doom will fix this.”

- The search is swift, efficient, without hesitation. His Doombots flood the city, scanning every street, every shadow. There is no corner of the world Doom does not control, no path hidden from his gaze. He does not waste time questioning—he demands. When a man hesitates to answer, Doom does not repeat himself. He simply removes the obstacle. The world bends before his will, because it must.

- He finds the dog in the hands of a thief who does not understand the gravity of his mistake. Doom does not strike immediately. He steps forward, his very presence sending the fool to his knees. “You have taken something that belongs to me,” he states, voice smooth, absolute. “That is unacceptable.” The thief stammers, begs, offers apologies Doom does not need. With a flick of his wrist, Doom reclaims what is his. The thief remains on the ground, trembling—his punishment will come later.

- When he returns, he does not hand you the dog. No, he holds Mr. Pickles before you, as if offering proof of his superiority, as if daring you to ever doubt him again. “Do not weep for lost things,” he tells you, his voice softer now, for you alone. “Not when you have Doom. Nothing that belongs to you shall ever be taken from you while I draw breath.” And then, as though bestowing a gift upon royalty, he places Mr. Pickles into your waiting arms, watching as you press your face into the ridiculous fluff with something close to peace. Doom allows himself the smallest of smiles.

Peter Quill (Star-Lord)

- “Oh, babe.” Peter’s heart breaks a little at the sight of you, curled up on the couch, your eyes wet, your lip trembling. He’s seen you fight, seen you take down things twice your size without so much as flinching, but this—this tiny, stupid missing dog—has unraveled you. He cups your face, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry, okay? The Legendary Star-Lord’s got this. I’ll have Mr. Pickles back before you can say ‘Peter, you’re the best boyfriend ever.’”

- He takes off running—literally. No plan, no strategy, just vibes. He asks around, chasing every lead with the reckless charm of a man who talks his way out of problems more often than he solves them. He nearly gets into a fight with a street vendor, accidentally enters an underground dog racing ring (and somehow wins money he never meant to bet), and ends up bribing a kid with a pack of alien candy just to get a lead.

- When he finally finds Mr. Pickles, the little guy is on a rooftop, looking profoundly lost and utterly confused. “Oh, buddy,” Peter sighs, scooping him up. “Your mom is gonna kill me if she finds out I let you get this far. You owe me, man.” Mr. Pickles licks his face. Peter grimaces. “Gross, dude.”

- He returns to you, arms wide, Mr. Pickles balanced on his shoulder like some kind of pirate parrot. “Ta-da!” He grins as you snatch your dog, pressing frantic kisses into his fur. Peter watches you with something soft in his eyes, something real. “See?” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. “Told you I’d bring him back. And not just ‘cause I didn’t wanna see you cry—though, babe, I really didn’t wanna see you cry.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, grinning. “Next time, though? Maybe we put a tracker on this little dude.”

Nova (Richard Rider)

- Richard’s stomach sinks when he sees you like this. You’re never like this—never fragile, never still. But now, your arms are empty, your lips pressed tight, your whole body tensed in a way that tells him just how much you’re holding back. He reaches for you, thumb brushing against your wrist. “We’re gonna find him,” he promises. “No matter what it takes.” And when he says it, he means it.

- He takes to the sky, the city unfolding beneath him in a blur of neon and shadows. He scans every street, every heartbeat, his senses stretched thin, reaching beyond what should be possible. He moves like a comet, burning through the night, a streak of gold and blue against the dark. No lost thing escapes his gaze—not when he is Nova.

- He finds Mr. Pickles in the middle of traffic, a tiny, oblivious fluffball wandering straight into chaos. Richard doesn’t think—he moves. One second, the little dog is about to meet a terrible fate. The next, he’s safe, cradled against Richard’s chest as cars screech to a halt beneath them. Richard exhales, pressing his forehead against the ridiculous creature. “You are so lucky I like your mom.”

- He lands in front of you, Mr. Pickles still tucked in his arms, and the second he sees your relief, he knows—he would have torn the universe apart for this moment. He hands the dog to you, watching the way your whole body softens. And then, before he can say something stupid, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. He laughs against your mouth, breathless. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I know. I’m the best.”

[wholoveseggs]

A Tale of Tinsel and Turmoil

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}{Five Days of Fluffmas}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} When Kol brings home a Christmas tree too grand for the Mikaelson courtyard, the family’s decorating antics spiral into chaos...

♡♡Merry Christmas♡♡

1.5 words - Warnings: flufffff, holiday decorating gone wrong, mischievous Kol, Christmas tree theme debates, Hope's word is law && lots of love and laughter...

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@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

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@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

It had been a while since the entire Mikaelson family had been under the same roof, but when Kol came through the door carrying a massive Christmas tree, he was quickly met by an excited Hope, who had been waiting impatiently for him to come home.

"Uncle Kol!" the little girl cried, rushing into his arms and hugging him tightly. "You brought the tree!"

"Well, of course I did, little darling," he said, returning the hug just as eagerly.

Elijah cast a skeptical glance at the towering tree as Kol began setting it up in the courtyard. It stretched nearly to the third-floor balcony, its branches sprawling like a small forest.

"Was a tree of this size really necessary?" Elijah asked, his tone dry but patient.

Kol shrugged, carefully securing the base. "Why not? The holidays are all about extravagance," he replied, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"Daddy! Mommy! Come see the tree!" Hope cried out, racing off to find her parents.

You leaned against the second-floor railing, watching the commotion below. Kol stood proudly by the massive tree, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, while Klaus approached, already scowling.

"Where did you get this?" Klaus asked, arms crossed. "They certainly aren’t selling these at the tree lot."

"I found it," Kol answered vaguely, his mischievous grin widening under Rebekah’s pointed glare. "Perhaps with a bit of magical assistance,"

"Kol..." Elijah warned, his calm tone carrying a note of exasperation.

Before Kol could reply, a small voice interrupted. "Uncle Elijah," Hope said, tugging on his sleeve. Her big, hopeful eyes were enough to melt even Elijah’s stoic demeanor. "Will you help me decorate the tree?"

Elijah smiled warmly, lifting her into his arms. "Of course, sweetheart."

Your heart melted at the sight. Elijah had always had a way with Hope, his tenderness shining through in moments like these.

"I can help too, uncle Kol can't keep me from it," Rebekah said with a smirk.

Klaus was quick to jump in, "oh please, Bekah, I think we all know I'm the better decorator."

"Go get the decorations, and then we'll see about that," Rebekah told her brother, crossing her arms.

Elijah handed Hope off to Hayley and went to the storage room where the ornaments were kept. As he walked, he caught your gaze, and gave you a soft smile, his eyes twinkling. You found yourself following him into the storage room.

"Do you want me to carry that?" you asked, taking in the large cardboard box Elijah had pulled from the shelf.

"Thank you, but I'm perfectly capable of carrying a box," he told you with a chuckle.

"Well, it looks heavy," you replied, giving him a smirk.

He raised his eyebrow, "are you saying I'm not strong enough to lift a box? My dear I can lift you without even breaking a sweat."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," he told you, stepping closer.

You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from grinning. Elijah's eyes darted to your lips, a smirk forming on his face. He stepped even closer, his body almost brushing yours.

"So, are you going to prove it or not?" You asked, a challenging tone in your voice.

He smirked, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush the shell of your ear. His voice was low and raspy when he whispered, "I will be more than happy to show you later,"

Your breath hitched, and heat pooled in your lower stomach. You looked up at him, his face only inches from yours, and his gaze was hungry, but he wouldn't move any closer, not until you told him. The two of you had been dancing around each other for months now, neither one wanting to make the first move, but you were starting to think he might actually kiss you.

"Are you two love birds coming?" Rebekah's voice called out, effectively shattering the moment.

You stepped back, blushing furiously. Elijah gave you an apologetic smile before lifting the box and carrying it to the courtyard.

The ornaments were quickly passed around and the decorating began. Klaus, Kol, and Rebekah were trying to de-tangle the string lights, while Hope was helping Freya and Hayley pick out the prettiest ornaments. You and Elijah were sorting through the tinsel, contemplating which colors to use.

As the family began decorating, the bickering started almost immediately. Rebekah held up a string of red and gold ornaments. "We’re going traditional! Red, green, and gold. It’s classic."

Klaus scoffed. "Traditional? How dull. We should go for a winter wonderland theme. White, silver, and blue. Sophisticated."

"Traditional is timeless!" Rebekah snapped, hanging a gold bauble on the tree.

"And winter wonderland is elegant," Klaus retorted, tossing a strand of silver tinsel onto the tree.

Kol, watching from the sidelines, smirked. "Both of you have awful taste. Let’s make it fun! Bright colors everywhere. I bet this sturdy tree can hold all of our ornaments,"

The three of them turned toward each other, their voices growing louder. Freya sighed and crossed her arms. "Are we seriously doing this? Hope is right there. Can’t we go one holiday without arguing?"

"We’re not arguing," Klaus said, his tone anything but convincing.

"We’re discussing," Rebekah added with a sharp smile.

"Oh, really?" Freya asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why do I hear so much shouting and so little decorating?"

Before anyone could respond, Hope, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "I want it all purple! Purple is my favorite!"

Everyone turned to look at her. Klaus, ever the doting father, immediately relented. "Purple it is, my little princess."

Elijah chuckled softly, already retrieving the purple tinsel. "It seems the debate has been settled."

"Smart choice," you teased, watching him as he carefully handed a strand of tinsel to Hope.

As the decorating continued, the tree began to take shape—a towering display of purple tinsel and a mix of ornaments, each with its own bit of family history. Despite the occasional bickering, the atmosphere was warm and filled with laughter.

Finally, Klaus stepped back, surveying the nearly finished tree. "Now, we just need the topper," he declared.

"I want to do it!" Hope said, bouncing on her toes.

Klaus’s eyes widened. "Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. The tree is massive."

"But Daddy—" Hope started, her pout already forming.

"No, sweetheart," Klaus said firmly. "Uncle Kol chose the most ridiculous tree imaginable. You won't be able to reach the top."

Hope crossed her arms and let out a dramatic sigh, she was so much like her father sometimes. 

"Finnnnne," she groaned. "But someone needs to do it!"

"I got it," you offered, climbing the stairs to the second floor balcony.

Elijah followed you. "You should let me," he said, reaching the railing and offering his hand. "If you fall, you could really hurt yourself,"

"Are you going to catch me if I fall?" you asked, your eyes twinkling with mirth.

He grinned. "Of course, I will.”

In one smooth motion, Elijah placed his hands at your waist and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he steadied you, holding you high enough to reach the top. Hope clapped her hands below, beaming with excitement.

"Easy now," Elijah murmured, his voice calm and steady. "You’ve got this."

You placed the star carefully, adjusting it until it sat perfectly centered. "Done!" you exclaimed, turning to beam at him.

But in your excitement, you shifted your weight too far. Elijah tried to steady you, but the combination of your movement and the tree’s precarious balance was too much. The massive tree wobbled, then toppled, sending all of the ornaments and purple tinsel scattering across the courtyard.

Chaos erupted immediately. Klaus shouted something about Kol ruining Christmas, Rebekah shrieked about broken ornaments, and Freya and Hayley tried to calm everyone down. Hope, however, clapped her hands, laughing as she declared it "the funniest Christmas ever."

Elijah, still holding you securely, slowly lowered you to the ground. His expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I think we may have caused a bit of trouble," he said, his tone light.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "A bit?" you echoed, gesturing to the glittering mess.

His hands lingered at your waist, steady and warm as you met his gaze. For a moment, the chaos around you faded. Elijah’s dark eyes softened, and you felt a pull so strong you couldn’t resist. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft and warm, a long-awaited moment that felt just as perfect as you’d imagined. When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and Elijah’s signature smirk was firmly in place.

"I suppose toppling the tree was worth it," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Completely worth it," you replied, grinning.

Kol groaned loudly from below. "Oh, for the love of Christmas, can you two stop being disgustingly cute for one second? Come help us clean up,"

Elijah didn’t even glance at him. "Perhaps if you weren’t so careless with your magical trees, Kol, this wouldn’t have happened."

As the family bickered and laughed, you stayed where you were, Elijah still holding you close. In the middle of the glittering mess, surrounded by laughter, love, and a little chaos, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[hypernova-writes]

Oh great Nova above... bless me with some Engi and Medic both fucking reader.. i need evil smart men to sandwich me.. Amen 🙏

ANON GOOD GOD YOUVE MUSTVE BEEN READING MY MINDDDDDD. Cause I've been wanting to write something Science Party Related so BAD!

I do have a yandere fic planned for the two, so be on the lookout~

Science Party x Reader: Stress Relief

"Oh..Liebling..i zhought jou said jou could handle us both..?~"

Medic chuckles as your broken and needy moans manage to escape the gag in your mouth. He leans down to take one of your perk nipples into his mouth, while his hand goes to trail down to your clit, rubbing in slow yet teasing circles.

He could feel as your back arched and he smirks before glancing over to Engineer. "Doesn't our little princess look so good?~"

Engineer smirks as he grunts in response at first, he was focused on his cock burying it's way in and out of your cunt. His hands on gripping your waist and holding you in place.

"Mhm she sure does..~ our little sweetpea doesn't know whether she's comin' or goin'.." He manages to say in-between grunts, chuckling at your high pitch and breathy whines.

The three of you were a couple, with you being an assistant to Miss Pauling, you were just as stressed as her, barely having time for your loving boyfriends.

They saw that you needed a little stress relief, and came up with this plan to lure you into Engie's workshop, knowing no one came in there without his permission.

That's how you ended up across his bed, Medic on your side, littering your body in Hickies as Engineer took care of your needy cunt.

You needed this so much, they could tell from how you would relax in their grip, how your pretty little eyes would roll back and moans would fall from those plump lips.

With each roll of his hips, Engineer could see you were getting closer and closer. "I think our little darlin' is gettin' close.~ Ain't that right suga'?"

Medic chuckles as he removed the gag, leaning down to kiss your puffy lips, swallowing your moans as they came out. He continues his motions on your clit, matching them with the speed of Engineer's thrust.

"Mhm..is our good girl gonna cum for us?.."

"Y-yes..yes..N-ngh..D-dell..Ludwig..~" you finally moaned out, voice a bit hoarse from the gag. Medic buried his head into the crook of your neck, biting down as he feels your body tense up.

"Zhere we go..let it go for us~"

"C-christ..Suga'..you're tightenin' up 'round me somethin' serious..Im not gon' last much—"

Engineer lands home about two more times before his hips stilled, spilling into you as he massaged your hips.

It was a moment before the two men finally got up from where they were. Medic kisses your forehead before heading over to go and get a rag and other things to clean you up.

Engineer slowly pulls out of you, chuckling at your cute little whine from the loss of being filled. "You did good..See? Told ya all you needed was a little TLC from your hubbies.."

You playfully roll your eyes as Engineer takes the warm towel from Medic and begins to wipe you down. "Y-yea...i hear ya.."

Medic let's a manic little giggle slip as he walks back up. "So~ does zhat mean you'll let us be jour stress relief again?~ i want to feel this pretty pussy too..~"

You blushed and averted your gaze from his words, as if you weren't just tag teamed by them both—.

"Now Doc..let's take it one day at a time, you'll get ya turn. Our little princess needs a rest, she does have work tomorrow."

"Hmph..fine fine~. Come, we'll use my bed, it's bigger."

I hope you enjoyed!! I love me some science party~ like the things I would let Engie and Medic to to me—

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow X Fem reader

Your past , My present, Our future Part 2 (Final)

(Part 1)

Description: after meeting your future child your mind is reeling, little do you know that there is another one watching from the shadows, and she isn’t alone.

Warnings: none cute Dadow fluff ahead

Note: so I know this story is going to leave a lot of questions to be answered don’t worry they will be in due time however I don’t mind answering them now so let me know, I will be posting the epilogue later this week hopefully which may or may not clear some things up.

The ebony hedgehog stood atop the tower her amber eyes scanning the area below.

She watched as her father spoke to her namesake below. something twisted in her heart, a feeling she couldn't quite place, not pain but not quite pride either. she watched as she spoke holding a surprising level of dignity and grace for her age. no wonder her father spoke so highly about her.

"OH MY GOSH!" a voice that unmistakably belonged to her mother called out distracting her from her thoughts.

a soft giggle escaped her lips even displaced in time she still found a way to bring her back to earth. "Thanks mom" she whispered.

"Maria! I need your help." a familiar voice behind her spoke making her jump.

"Gah! Silver what the hell, warn me! I could have attacked you just now!"

"Sorry, I'm just busy right now trying to keep time anomalies from happening"

"Yah I can see that." her eyes darting to her little now littler sister in Silver's hands,

"Hey! You look just like my sister RiRi" Nova said her voice full of excitement.

Maria smiled at the nickname her sister lovingly gave her, only she was allowed to call her that. "Yah, I get that a lot."

Her gaze returned to Silver "So How does it feel to be the older twin now?" She teased

"Please don't make this weird." Silver groaned

"I'm sorry, make this weird? Silver, You're holding your twin sister at age four in a timeless white void well before either of our conception. meanwhile you live in the past part-time, are on a first name basis with both our parent's, and you're dating a cat from another dimension, name one normal thing about any of this?"

"Hey! me and Blaze are just friends."

"That's not what she said." Maria pointed to Nova who was growing antsier by the second.

"What does she know anyway?"

"It's literally her jo-"

"Hey! Put me down!" Nova demanded waving her arms and kicking at the ivory hedgehog.

"Sorry Nova." Silver put her down on the floor between them.

"Now, what's this about you needing my help?"

"I need you to watch her for me, just until Sonic defeats the time eater and then we'll all go home."

"babysitting, really? How come you get all the cool missions?"

"Because, I'm not recognizable in the past , and you are."

"Yah, and how much longer do you have that excuse?"

"That doesn't matter right now. neither of you can be seen, unless you want to throw off the timeline"

Maria sighed her arguments once again being defeated. "What do you need to do anyway? get your butt kicked by Dad again?"

"No, by Sonic this time."

"Fine" she huffed "But you're doing my dishes for a week."

"What! seriously the future hangs in the balance right now and you're trying to wager chores."

"Hey, some people would ask for more, I personally think it's a generous offer."

"Maria stop pulling your brother’s leg, I'll watch her" the familiar voice of their father interrupted their spat.

"Papa!" Nova cried out excitedly running into his arms.

Shadow laughed as he picked the little hedgehog up and spun her around "Hello little one you've had quite the adveture today haven't you?"

the little girl beamed "just like you papa?"

"you could say that."

"can I come with you to work now!"

He smiled at her "I'll talk about it with your mother.” Shadow turned to his two other children “are you two alright?”

“Yah, I’ve been hiding here mostly, just watching” Maria responded

“I’m okay mostly busy trying to keep the timeline safe”

“Good, keep it up do you need any help”

“I’ve got it mostly covered so far you are the only ones from the future that could threaten the timeline well you guys and mom but she should be with past you right now”

“She’s not she went behind that wall over there after you left.” Maria corrected

Shadow nodded “Okay I’ll go check on her”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with her? Nova's not exactly one for keeping secrets, especially as a child.”

"That's true I caught her just before she spilled the beans about Maria"

"Hey I didn't spill anything!"

"No, Nova it's an expression" Silver sounded exasperated.

"A what?"

Silver sighed "Never mind"

"She'll be fine, with all the running around she's been doing I'm sure she's due for a nap"

"But I'm not tired"

"Oh, you're not?" Shadow replied.

"Nope" the little hedgehog yawned betraying her own words

"Okay, well then sit still while I talk to these two okay little one."

She nodded in agreement laying her head on her father's chest

"Papa?"

"Yes dear?"

"How come mama's quills aren't white?"

The air grew thick as the three looked at each other unsure of what to say. at her age it was never explained, she couldn't have possibly understood. what those scientists did to you, and why. No, that was a story for another day.

It was so long before her birth she hadn't known her mother any other way. even for Silver it was strange to see you before it happened despite that being his only safety for not being discovered yet.

"She's trying something new today, don't you like it?" Shadow finally answered.

"I think mama looks pretty"

"Yah, she always looks pretty."

Nova smiled at him before closing her eyes beginning to nod off.

"Silver keep doing whatever you need to do to keep the timeline in check okay?”

“Yes sir”

“Do you need a boost? Before you go?” Maria asked.

“I should be okay for now maybe after I fight Sonic”

“Okay, you know where I am” Maria gave her brother a hug

“Stay safe son” Shadow hugged Silver making sure not to disturb the little one who was being to lightly snore

“Thanks Dad” and with that silver took off heading off into the void.

Maria and Shadow were silent for a moment watching as Silver disappeared from sight.

“Hey Dad.”

“Yah”

“Just how far in the future are you from?” Maria couldn’t help glancing at the young girl from the past.

“Far enough to know what you want to ask.” Shadow placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder “You’ll find your own way I promise.”

“Well that’s awfully cryptic.”

“You know how important the timeline is, knowing what happens could put your future at risk”

“I know, it’s just, why can’t I fight yet? I know everything there is to know, and there’s so much good I want to do why won’t you let me? I mean silver is out there fighting with you and he’s four years younger than me why can’t I?

“I’m sorry Maria but that conversation can only happen when you’re ready, and I’m afraid you’re not there yet.”

“When will I be then?”

“Soon, I promise.”

She huffed unsatisfied with the answer but understanding that she couldn’t pry for more. “You probably have to go check on mom now don’t you?”

“She can wait a few more minutes if you need.”

“Nah she seemed pretty freaked, it was kinda funny not gonna lie”

Shadow smiled at his young daughter admiring how much she was like you.

“Alright stay hidden and please, try not to create any explosions”

“Dad, please, look who you’re talking to”

Shadow sighed “just keep the damage to a minimum”

“You got it” Maria smiled before giving her dad a hug. “Love you”

“You too kiddo”

And just as quickly as he appeared her father vanished into the white void taking her sister with him. Maria returned to her place watching the action happening once again.

“Oh man, Pepper is never going to believe this”

❤️

You leaned against the wall your mind going a million miles a second with no stop in sight.

You were beginning to feel nauseous at the concoction of emotions swirling through you.

You were mortified at the scene that just took place scolding yourself for running into a situation before properly assessing it, at the same time you were still coming down from the sadness of your boyfriend not knowing your identity, not to mention the child you were apparently going to have showing up.

You had nothing against children, in fact you wanted children of your own someday, but you and Shadow hadn't even talked about it yet. the panic of her arrival had come with the side affect of an overwhelming wave of affection. after all your future with Shadow had all been conformed.

You loved him and wanted this future with him, but it was all happening so fast you couldn't catch your breath, literally you were beginning to hyperventilate.

You needed to calm down so you closed your eyes sat down and focused on your breathing unaware that you were being watched

❤️

As Shadow approached you he couldn’t help but think about the early stages of your relationship. He remembered the way you looked at him, the ways you broke down his walls like no one else could, the ways you would comfort him as he woke from a nightmare.

He looked at you and felt a comfort in knowing not much had changed in all these years however, he was reminded just how much other things changed as well.

Right now you were untouched, not knowing what the future would bring, you looked younger, of course you did this was before.

Four years and three months before to be exact.

If perfection could be achieved it no doubt would look like you. Seeing you like this once again made him smile. still, guilt lingered in the back of his mind.

Images of the past flashed through his mind. The worst year of his life, six months of searching only to find you too late, and six more months trying to undo the damage. Your quills were supposed to turn white with age now they would never change at all.

You claimed you didn’t mind that the outcome was a “best case scenario”. Still he knew that you had something taken from you. Something that he had wanted for you, something he knew you could never get back not for a long time at least.

You were still perfect of course, just in a different way. Despite the challenges you pulled through healing in ways he never thought possible. You moved past it, you remained in love with him and gave him children he owed you the world and more.

Little Nova cooed in his arms yet another reminder of why you were just so remarkabl

Shadow stood next to you as you sat on the floor working through your breathing technique, not wanting to startle you he spoke gently.

“Hey”

You looked up at the familiar voice it was defiantly Shadow, but he seemed more familiar with you. he hadn't aged, of course he didn't but he had an air about him that seemed more mature like he's learned more from the word than the last you saw him, and on top of that he was holding the little hoglet Silver had whisked away moments ago.

"umm hey, so sorry but I'm really confused right now a lot is happening and I'm not entirely sure what."

"It's okay Y/N I understand"

"Okay so before I start I just want to make sure, You know me right?"

Shadow smiled at you "Yes my love"

You heaved a sigh of relief "Okay good, so first off how are you dear"

"I'm doing fine, I'm here to check on you"

"Okay good, Second wow I'm just- I don't really know what to say right now. It's just a lot. I mean we have a kid? That's - wow."

"Are you disappointed?"

"What? Of course not! it's just, I don't know, Kids have always been this possibility to me, you know, they're just hypothetical things. I mean we haven't really talked about it, I don't know you're opinions on them are so there was a chance I wouldn't have them, but now, it's real and obviously you know we have one.”

“I was little worried at first, having something so small, but I also knew I wanted a family especially one with you.”

“Am I any good at it, the whole parenting thing?”

“You’re the best at it”

The tension you in your shoulder released as you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You looked up at Shadow a warm feeling spread through your heart seeing how he gently held your sleeping child in his arms.

“Should we be talking while she’s asleep”

“Oh, She’s fine she sleeps through anything. One time you were making dinner during her nap and all the pots and pans crashed out of the cabinets she didn’t even move”

“Oh that’s good”

“Yah, she’ll give you a run for your money when she’s awake though”

You giggled “you know, that’s a good look on you, you look happy.”

“I am” the two of you smiled at one another “do you want to hold her?”

“Is that allowed? I mean would that mess up the timeline at all? I don’t want Silver to be mad or anything.”

Shadow held back a snicker, you had no idea “don’t worry about Silver trust me, he won’t bother you”

“Oh, okay then.”

Shadow gently placed the little girl in your arms your heart swelling as she curled up against your chest a she called out a tiny “mama?” Instinctively you rubbed her back lulling her back to sleep surprising yourself in the process.

Getting a closer look at her you wondered how you didn’t immediately clock her as yours the two of you shared many features but the ones you found your favorite were the ones Shadow gave her. Her grey markings, the way her quills curled up she even snored like him.

“She’s so cute, how do I function?”

“Trust me you take a lot of pictures.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Shadow sat down next to you. As you turned to smile at him he noticed, after all these years you still smiled at him the same way you. All the trauma all the changes those people forced you through they couldn’t change the simple fact that you loved him, no matter what happened or how much time had passed you would always love him.

The two of you talked behind the wall passing the time as you waited for the action to be over.

“Shouldn’t you be helping yourself with your dad?” You asked at one point

“Trust me, this is much more important”

After a couple hours you noticed something, Nova’s foot was slowly becoming transparent panic flooded through you as you tried to stop it realizing you were beginning to disappear too.

“Don’t worry, this is just how you go home you’ll be okay I promise.”

“Okay and how about her?”

“She’ll wake up in the same place she disappeared she’ll be safe”

You nodded “any advice for the future?”

He took your face in his hands taking memorizing your features one last time. “ Just remember that I’ll always love you no matter what”

“I love you too”

Shadow leaned in and kissed you this wasn’t his last kiss with you, not by a mile but it still felt like a goodbye. You were taken so suddenly and by the time he saw you again the damage had been done. He knew he couldn’t warn you about it, but he could use this kiss as an apology, as reassurance that everything would turn out okay.

As you faded from his view he smiled, knowing that despite what happened the two of you had a bright future ahead.

❤️

You woke up in a lush green field your picnic basket neatly laid next to you, the path ahead clear. Checking the time on your phone you noticed that no time had passed since you entered the void, even so you were still late for your picnic date.

Grabbing your basket you rushed off to your usual meeting place knowing you had one hell of an excuse.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

“That’s alright, I’m still setting up.”

“The blanket? Love, all you have to do is lay it on the floor.”

“I know I was just making sure I had a good vantage point in case anything comes to attack us.”

“Aw love, I appreciate your vigilance but I sincerely doubt someone is going to attack us in a wide open field in the middle of the day.”

“You never know when someone is going to strike I just want to be prepared.”

You kissed him between his ears handing him his sandwich “never change darling”

You sat beside him taking your lunch out as well.

“So Nova’s pretty cute isn’t she”

Shadow froze looking at you in shock.

“When did you-”

“Just now. So you knew this whole time?!”

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Please, like you would have believed me.”

“I might have”

Shadow gave you one of his looks that showed complete doubt.

“Oh you” you jumped on him pushing him to the ground your lips colliding as Shadow wrapped his hand around your waist. You giggled against his lips continuing as the two of you parted continuing your picnic on the beautiful spring afternoon steps away from your first meeting.

❤️

Three years prior

Shadow sat beneath the tree watching the festivities below. He had no idea why he let Rouge convince him to come. They were all the same full of people making pointless small talk about nothing.

Sure there were people he tolerated but they were always busy talking to the ones he couldn’t stand.

Shadow skulked checking the time waiting for the hour mark when Rouge said it was an acceptable time to leave. Only five minutes left and they couldn’t come soon enough.

“Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here?” A sweet voice called out.

Looking up he saw a familiar figure, he tried looking for you after the time eater incident to no avail, years passed and he didn’t have the time to search, the world needed saving and he was the only competent enough to do it properly.

“I suppose” he responded

“Thank you, don’t get me wrong I love parties but they get way too loud.”

Shadow scoffed “Yah that’s Sonic for you, always has to throw the biggest parties.”

You giggled “Yah, he’s sweet and all but he definitely needs to come with a warning sign.”

Shadow found himself laughing at your comment.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I just moved here Amy invited me, quite a colorful cast of characters around here.”

“Yah, almost too colorful”

You giggled at his comment bringing a warmth to his face he was unfamiliar with.

“I’m Y/N, and you are?”

“Shadow, Shadow the Hedgehog.”

“Nice to meet you Shadow”

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

A quick look at the Splatoon 3 Version 9.3 changes!

(credit to Lewyn4k on bluesky!)

I'm a bit late with this one, all the Splatubers have already gotten their patch note explanation videos out, but this is a really interesting patch so I wanted to go through it and give my thoughts!

Let's start with the Main Weapon changes:

Sploosh, Splattershot Jr., Aerospray and Dapple Dualies have all had their shot velocity increased by 3%, which confers a slight range increase as well (because if your bullets travel faster they get further before they start to drop!). I don't think this solves any of these weapons' most pressing issues, but let's not look that gift horse in the mouth. Gift seahorse?

N-ZAP is now a little bit more accurate and moves a little bit faster while shooting, which makes it in line with the Mini Splatling in terms of strafe speed. Keep in mind that this value is multiplicative with Tacticooler, since it maxes out your Run Speed, so Zap's gonna be really zooming now!

Nova's had its' jump RNG decreased by 33%, which is a big change numerically, but I don't think it amounts to very much. Nova's still incredibly inaccurate as a baseline needs to hit five shots to kill, so t his doesn't do anything real for it, I think.

Big Swig's vertical flick hitbox is now slightly bigger. For some reason it used to have a more narrow vertical flick than the other Rollers, but this change should likely but it more in line with the rest.

Painbrush's delay between swings has been reduced by about 2 frames, which is a small but not insignificant change. While Painbrush can two-shot, it's much more likely to splat in three or even four shots due to its damage falloff, and with this buff those will now be 6 and 8 frames faster, respectively. This buff also means that painbrush paints better, too!

Mini and Heavy Splatling both had their charge time reduced by 2 frames for the first ring and 3 frames for the second for a total of a 5 frame faster full charge. Mini now gets a full charge in 27 frames (less than half a second!) while Heavy gets a full charge in 72. Additionally Heavy had its firing duration increased by 11%, which means it fires for roughly two and two thirds of a second. Some nice changes for weapons that were honestly pretty good already!

Splat Dualies' bullets are now a bit bigger making them easier to hit. This does not increase their paint or anything like that, and it does not affect your shots fired while sitting after a dodge roll. This is actually a reversion of a nerf they got in late Splatoon 2! Splat Dualies were already really good with a stellar kit in the form of Suction Bomb/Crab Tank, and I don't think this moves the needle much, but hey, can't complain!

Recycled Brella gets a paint buff and a 14% ink efficiency buff. "Slightly" is doing a lot of work here, because the actual increase is somewhere in the ballpark of 27%! Recycled paint was mediocre on a good day, so it's well deserved. The ink efficiency buff also means that it gets two more shots on a full tank, which combined with the painting buff means it might just get a decent amount of Specials, of which it has two pretty good to pick from. All in all a big win for Recycling fans!

Snipewriter gets its' second paint nerf, and while they didn't put a number here datamining's shown that it roughly translates to a 5% paint decrease. Not nothing, but it'll probably be fine, though this is not the only nerf the pen is getting this patch as we'll see in a bit.

And for the final Main Weapon change of the patch it's Decavitator's turn on the chopping block, the dash slash now takes 2 more frames to start, going from 8 to 10 frames, while its paint's been reduced by 12%.

I actually really quite like these changes because while I like Decav a lot it's always been a bit overtuned, and these nerfs reduce some of those aspects while still retaining the most fun and interesting aspects of the weapon, the big hitbox and high damage. This is a very good approach, I'd say.

There's no Sub Weapon changes this patch (boo! buff angle shooter and toxic mist already!) so before we continue to Special changes let's take a look at the points for Special changes:

Snipewriter joins Squeezer and Sloshing Machine in the 220p club, and S-BLAST is paying the price for its recent competitive popularity, having risen in usage quite a lot after the Ranged Blaster nerfs last year. Not much else to note here, I think.

So now, let's talk about Special Weapons, and this is where the juice is this patch.

Ultra Stamp had its thrown mode damage numbers changed around quite a lot, having its instant splat radius massively increased while its outer splash damage radius had its damage doubled. To show you what this means in practice, well...

If Ultra Stamp would paint your feet with its explosion, you get evaporated. This is a big buff, making thrown Ultra Stamps a genuine threat that you need to be on the lookout for facing a weapon that has one.

So is Ultra Stamp as bad as Trizooka now? I don't think so, and it's for a couple of reasons. For one Ultra stamp takes more time to activate and throw than it takes to get your first Trizooka shot out, making it easier to react to. It also can't arc around obstacles the way Trizooka bullets can with their weird spiraling trajectory. Also, you only get one shot, when you've thrown your hammer it's all you get. And the final nail in the Trizooka comparison is that, well...

Trizooka gets a major nerf this patch, essentially getting the reverse change of Ultra Stamp. Roughly the outer half of the splash radius was changed to deal 35 damage from 53, so the person using it has to be pretty precise to get meaningful damage onto people now. They also decreased the duration from 6 seconds to 5.5 seconds, so you've gotta get those shots out fast!

And finally, Triple Splashdown paints 11% more. This change is a help in Splat Zones in particular, as Triple Splashdown actually painted surprisingly little given the three explosions, but now it'll paint enough to flip some zones on its own with no Special Power Up. It's not as good for this as Reefslider since you have to actually be in the zone as you start the Special, but utility is utility!

While we're all done with weapon changes, there's still some Stage changes, specifically to Tri-Color Turf War stages specifically:

To demonstrate the layout changes, here are some images courtesy of diamcreeper24 on twitter and Inkipedia. Old layout on left, new on right:

These stages, Bluefin in particular, were some of most imbalanced in terms of attacker/defender win/loss ratio, hence why they got changes.

And that's the patch! Overall I like the changes, but I do hope that in the future we see a bigger focus on buffing weaker Subs and Specials, as the biggest problem a lot of weapons have is not that their Mains are weak, but that they are hard to justify because of bad Subs and Specials. That said the Ultra Stamp change is a good start, here's hoping for something similarly drastic for Wave Breaker,

[llamaisllama777]

THE DAILY*/WEEKLY* TSAMS, FEMNAF, EAPS SHOW!

We finally meet the Sun and Moon of this world, Nova and Frost!

I love how animated and expressive they are in this episode. All the little movements are just... MMMM!

But I have an odd feeling about them. I like Nova and Frost, but who dropped them off there? The Glamrocks said it was someone gross looking???

Gross looking?

Purple skinned Michael Afton maybe?

Who knows? But that's my current theory.

🤣🤣🤣 So many swears! I love it.

Can I talk about Femnaf real quick?

I love how mature this show is, both in the storyline sense and the humor sense. Not only are the storylines more intense with the whole Roxas thing going on, but also the humor, they swear, and sometimes they don't even censor it and I kinda love that. Never in my days did I think I would hear Davis or Flora drop an F-Bomb without a loud [BEEP] cutting it off in the middle. I love this show, so much!

And lastly...

BABY ECLIPSE!

@nadinescholtes

You're famous! That's the model! It's the baby Eclipse model! He's so cute!

This makes me wonder if we'll see more baby models like Baby Jack and Baby Ruin or Earth show up in the shows.

But can we also talk about how I feel like Eclipse is gonna crashout soon?

Like the ruin virus is going around and instead of immediately launching Eclipse's device into space, nuking the virus (and likely Rusty) but instead he's on his own cause Ruin doesn't want to see his boyfriend die.

I get why Ruin is doing it and I do think they should try to save Rusty before killing him...

But...

I'm also on Eclipse's side. This virus is dangerous! It could turn them all into psychopathic serial killers and make Eclipse go back to his old bad self.

They need this virus gone now!

And yet, basically, everyone is siding against him. And now this...

Either Eclipse is gonna crashout and have a small villain arc again cause the virus in him will be expedited by his own rage and aggression or Eclipse will leave this dimension for a bit and tell them all to [BEEP] off.

Frankly, I don't blame them.

11/10!!!

I love Nova and Frost!

[brainisafk]

I love them all so much. XD

They are done with every zone but Hossberg so hopefully once we sweep that and turn everything in they will be able to do Weisshaupt right away. \o/

[heavyhitterheaux]

Not a Baby Anymore

First Babies of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack have to get on the same page regarding Axel, who clearly lets you know that he is tired of being treated what he believes is unfairly by you

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Axel hadn't been your biggest fan after he had asked you if he could go to soccer camp after school was going to be let out in a few weeks. You had your hesitations of him being away from you for a long period of time and even though he was getting older, you weren't quite ready for it. So, of course you told him no. That led to him catching an attitude with you and running straight to his room but not before telling you that ‘You never let me do anything. I wish dad was here more.’

You were trying to explain your reasoning to him, but he didn't want to hear it. Jack was due to be back later that evening and you had a strong feeling that he was going to try and convince you otherwise.

Once Jack had made it in the door and saw you sitting in the living room on your phone, he simply sat down next to you before sliding you onto his lap. Your arms immediately went around his neck and he gave you several kisses.

“I missed you.” You whispered against his lips before giving him another kiss which instantly made a smile come to his face.

“I missed you too. Where are all my babies?” Jack asked as he wrapped his arms around you.”

“Ivy and Autumn are in the backyard, Cam and Cash are with my parents, and Axel was in his room the last time I checked. Nova is working on her science project.”

“Hmm, that's weird. He's usually all up under you. I'm surprised he lets you breathe sometimes.” Jack knew early on that the bond you and Axel shared was special since the both of you almost lost your lives.

He remembered when he was going back and forth from your hospital room in the ICU to the NICU to see the triplets and how he was probably either going to lose his wife or one of his children. Those were the longest few days of his life and he didn't know what he was going to do if you left him before he properly got to have a chance at fixing your marriage.

“Aht! Not too much on my baby boy.” You answered while playfully hitting Jack who laughed.

“Our baby boy is almost fourteen.”

“Your point!? But I know he missed you.” But you didn't mention the argument that you two got in earlier which was why he was now in his room. Because he didn't want to be near you.

“Well let me go check on them. I'll be back.”

Jack slid you off his lap before kissing your forehead and going upstairs to see Axel.

He noticed that his door was open and he poked his head in, excited to be reunited with one of his oldest babies only to see him angrily wiping tears away from his face.

“Ax what's wrong? Did something happen?” Jack asked as he stepped fully into his room and sat next to him on his bed.

“I want to go to soccer camp.”

“Okay, just let me know all the details about it and we'll pay for you to go. Why the tears?” Jack answered, but he could tell that there was something else.

Axel shook his head no and Jack looked at him confused.

“Ax?”

“I already asked mom and she said no.”

“What? Did she tell you why?”

“No, I walked away from her. She never lets me do anything especially when you aren't here. She lets my sisters do anything they want, but I have to stay home.”

This was the first time that Axel vocalized this to Jack and he quickly grew annoyed with you.

“You want to go?”

“Yes. All my friends are going.”

“Then that settles it. I’ll deal with your mother.”

“I don't understand why she always tells me no.”

“Don't worry. I’ll talk to her.”

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we have pizza for dinner? If I had asked mom she would have probably told me no too.”

Jack stifled a laugh before answering him.

“We’ll order it when Cash and Cam come back.”

Little did Jack know that you had been standing on the top step listening to their conversation and was going to confront him about it. You quietly snuck back down the steps to sit in the living room and bide your time.

Jack stayed with Axel for another twenty minutes before going to see the girls and then made his way back inside.

—

“Jackman….” Jack heard you say his name as he heard your footsteps approach from behind him and he immediately sighed because he knew a shitstorm was coming. He had just left Axel's room for the second time and had made his way downstairs to find something to snack on.

“Yes, baby?” He replied as he turned around to face you.

“Why did you tell Axel that it was okay for him to go to soccer camp when I specifically told him no?”

“Because you are overprotective of him and never let him do anything.” Jack said being completely honest as he shrugged.

“What? No I'm not!”

“Babe, yes you are. You aren't like that with Ivy and Autumn and let them do anything that they ask within reason. Why doesn't Axel get the same treatment?”

“I do give him the same treatment!”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? You let me teach him how to play and it took me months to convince you to say yes. Our baby boy is growing up and it's about time you accepted that.”

“Well yes! He has asthma! That was my entire reasoning.”

“That is well controlled. He hasn't had an attack since he was 6 and takes his meds on a daily basis.”

“But what if something happens and I'm not there? Did we forget that we almost lost him?”

“Y/N…. Thirteen years ago. He is fine and going to make good choices. All of his friends are going and I don't want him to feel left out.”

“I still don't know. The thought makes me nervous.”

“He's not going to be far from home and it's only for two weeks.”

“TWO WEEKS? No, that's too long for him to be away from us. Absolutely not.”

“So let me ask you this. When he becomes an adult because you know that's eventually going to happen, right? Are you going to be babying him like this? And sheltering him? How is he supposed to experience anything? I'm convinced that you're going to go to college with him too.” Jack explained, but all you did was roll your eyes.

“My answer is still no.”

“And I told him yes. My second born came to me in tears, upset and told me how when I'm not here and he asks you to do something nine times out of ten you tell him no. This is something that he really wants to do and his mom shouldn't be ruining that for him.”

“But he's my baby.” You quietly said as you were trying to blink back tears. All of your children held a special place in your heart but you admit you took extra precautions when it came to Axel because he wasn't dealt the best hand when you brought him into the world.

“And he's mine too. I want all of them to be able to experience things and have opportunities but one child shouldn't feel like he's being left out.”

Just then you heard footsteps and turned to see that it was Axel who was trying to wipe the remnants of his tears away before you saw them making your heart break.

“Axel…” You started to say, but he immediately went over to Jack.

“She won't let me go will she?” He asked as he looked up at him and all Jack did was sigh.

“Ax, turn around and ask her.”

“Why? She's probably going to say no like she always does.”

“All I want to do is protect you.” You said as your eyes started to water.

“I'm not a baby anymore! And I'm tired of you treating me like one. I take my meds every day and I haven't been in the hospital since I was six. I want to go to soccer camp with my friends!”

Crossing your arms, you gathered your thoughts before responding.

“I know that you aren't a baby anymore, but this is hard for me. I know I say this all the time, but I didn't even think that you would make it to six months old. So can you understand why I`m so hesitant. But if this is what you want, okay.” You responded while shrugging.

“Wait, that's it?” Axel asked, thinking that you were going to put up more of a fight.

“Yes.”

“But there are going to be rules that you have to follow.” Jack piped up and Axel eagerly nodded.

“You call us everyday, set an alarm on your phone for your meds and take your inhaler with you. If at any point you don't feel well, you tell them immediately so that they’ll be able to get you the help you need. This will be the test to see if you can be responsible enough to be away from us.” Jack explained while Axel was actively listening.

“Okay, I will. Promise.”

As you stood off to the side, Jack looked at Axel and nudged his head in your direction while you weren't looking.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

Axel didn't respond, but instead hugged you and you tightly hugged him back.

“I promise that I'll be fine.”

“I know you will.”

—

“That woman has one more time to look at you before I go off.” You told Jack as both of you were at Axel's championship soccer game for his team. It was the last day of summer camp and you could tell that you and Jack made the right choice even though it took a little convincing on his part to get you to say yes.

All Jack did was laugh before wrapping an arm around you and kissing your cheek.

“Baby, please don't. We're here to see Axel play.”

“She is giving you bedroom eyes. I can focus on two things at the same time!”

“The only person that I'm going into a bedroom with is you so she can forget it. But focus on Axel!”

“Fine, but when the game is over I'll deal with her.”

It was down to the last few seconds and the game was tied when Anthony, Axel's best friend and teammate passed him the ball which he kicked right into the net and scored, winning the game.

You and Jack erupted in cheers as his teammates gathered around him and picked him up.

Once the crowd died down, you and Jack made your way onto the field and Axel immediately ran to the both of you. Once he reached you, both of you immediately brought him into a hug.

“So proud of you.” You whispered in his ear as he hugged you both tighter.

“Thank you for letting me come.”

“Anything to see our baby happy. Now where are we going to celebrate your amazing championship winning goal?”

“Hmm Wing Stop?”

“I… seriously?” Jack said as he looked at the both of you.

“Momma's baby. You should already know.” You responded while shrugging.

The three of you were walking back to Jack’s car when Axel turned to look at him.

“Hmm, I guess you are a good teacher after all.” Axel told Jack.

“Obviously, you get your talent from me.”

“I thought that I got it from mom?”Axel playfully asked.

“WHAT? Since when does your mom play soccer?”

“See? Our son knows he got all his good qualities from me.”

“Not that attitude.” Jack shot back and you immediately rolled your eyes as Axel laughed.

“But being a soccer mom does look good on you.”

“I make anything look good.” You said while winking.

“Including dad.”

“HEY! Don't you two start! But I have to agree.”

“Mom, do you think I'm good enough to go pro?” Axel asked as your eyes went wide.

“Um Ax, let's just get through the rest of today first. I don't think your mom is ready to have a constant series of panic attacks if you play professionally.”

“Only if I come with you to every practice, workout session, and game of course!”

“On second thought, never mind.”

“I'll get us all matching shirts.”

“Dad, make it stop.”

“Nope, you asked for this.”

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men #16 review

AKA Magneto takes dexies

Fuck me, this book has had 16 issues, though if you asked me for an elevator pitch I'd have to say 'problems keep happening, except in the snow.' This latest snow problem arc feels like it's picking up the pace, but it covers maybe 5 minutes of their life. It's exciting - fake X-Men, a fight with bad guys, and Magneto taking drugs - but you can only run on 90/10 setup/payoff for so long before it drags. If nothing else, hot Magneto is back and full of drugs! 💊🧲

'Nuh uh, it's MY treehouse.'

Last issue ended with Cassandra Nova whispering in a new mutant's ear and these jerkoffs showing to rumble. The Santo Marco six, 3K mutants we last saw fifteen issues ago. As I said then, it's great that the 3K plot is starting to move but so much has happened since then that I forgot why anyone cares. This issue spends a fair amount of time basically reintroducing them because I'd imagine most readers are like Temper - 'who?' That's taking a little too long to get back to them IMO - this isn't the X-Files where the breadcrumbs are a given. Anyway, they want to be the X-Men for some reason, so the two teams fight. IDK why Scott wouldn't offer them a job interview or something, he looks like a big mean jerk. Yeah, I said it!

Magik and Juggernaut the bash bros are all about it, amping up their previous blood knight act. Cain no shit makes a Jack and the Beanstalk reference but it doesn't really land. Scott tries to remind his violent kids that the Twin is rampaging but they don't hear. The Twin seems like their heart just isn't in it as Cassandra Nova eggs them on. Getting huge Chuck vibes from her lol.

It's a bit jarring for Scott to shut the fake X-Men down so totally then be like 'wait, the twin.' He knows Magik wants their heads and that she and Cain are like this now. He set the example by being standoffish, what did he think would happen? I think I'm still hoping we'll follow up on Scott's mental health issues, but I guess Logan cured him with stabbing and I'm looking for something that isn't there. Still, with two psychics on the team it's something that could have been addressed - even if it's 'I'm doing okay right now thanks.' Leaving any longer to follow up and it'll feel like... round two of a fight from fifteen issues ago. Significant, but wayyyy too long between beers.

Beast calling Mags a shit father is 👌👌👌

Cyke multitasks like a champ and mobilises the factory crew. Mags and Beast hinted at a prosthetic for the ailing elder mutant last issue, though he looks a lot fucking healthier right now. I've been very open about my extreme distaste for R-LDS, and that hasn't changed. Dexies. Dextroamphetamine-x, so mutant dexies - as a temporary solution is ridiculous and pretty funny. Beast just whipping up drugs is becoming a regular enough thing, but dexies, really? Mutant ADD medication? It makes R-LDS look silly-er. I'll come back to this in a separate post for now let's enjoy Magneto shooting up speed and see what it does.

Wooooo! Tight, tight, tight tight tight!

HAHA! My dude is amped up, levitating syringes and billowing his cape. Hook this man up with an IV. I hesitate to say 'Magneto is back' but it is nice to see the Master of Magnetism flex like that. Now go throw some vehicles around, old man. I know you want to.

Not sure what to make of Beast's facial expression there. We can cross 'uncomplicated joy' off the list, that's for sure. Maybe 'should I really be giving Magneto amphetamines? I was in the Defenders, man.' Yes, he should. Hook the whole squad up.

Maybe not Magik...

SPLASH PAGE! Scott orders Psylocke to take out the speedster first, but I think he's been hanging around Hank too much. 'Accelerated physiology' - Scott deserves that knockdown. The action is bombastic and kinetic with handy visual keys to show who what kind of power and how it interacts with our A team. That's a counterbalance to the sheer busyness of the scenes , though I'm not sure it's enough. The pop cartoon style clashes a little with the cinematic panels they're going for here, showing most of the 'what' in a vacuum.

As a whole I find it difficult to tell where each respective exchange is happening. Following the speedster tells a coherent linear narrative, at least - taking out Scott, struggling with Psylocke and handing off to The Vore, then getting blasted by Scott. I wonder where Piper, Xorn, and Quentin are?

Woof! If these clowns want to be X-Men they need better banter. Anyone shouting 'The Juice is loose' in battle deserves to get pounded, FR. Honestly, everyone looks like they're having fun, not like they're looking to kill each other. It's very flashy but I feel like the guy in the bottom left panel - '?' There's the feeling that this fight is not intended to have a conclusion, that it's a showcase for design and dynamics. It's possible to have both, I'm sure of it. Somebody get hurt!

Oh bloody hell the X-Men are getting in on it too, with the embarrassing one liners. I do like cosmic energy guy's design though. Is their leader dabbing? Cassandra Nova must be so embarrassed. I guess THE VORE didn't eat Psylocke's brain or whatever. The unserious vibes the fight carries makes sense considering they're trying to stall the X-Men, but it pulls me out the moment and it makes the X-Men look like chumps. Get a handle on your guys and lead, Scotty!

There we go. This guy - I'm going to call him Bighorns - accepts the chance to regroup when Scott calls it. They want to be X-Men, apparently. With that 'Here Comes Tomorrow' you might even say they want to be New X-Men. There's a set-up for an ideological discussion here - I wonder if they'll go for it. Valid points are being made, kinda. Only one team works for the genocide lady who treats people like lab rats, but the X-Men have mile-wide chinks in their armour to call out. I doubt it, but you never know.

While the action figures have been smashing into each other, The Twin has reached the town. Magneto is dexied up, controlling the Wild Sentinel he and Scott trashed before the series started. That's where we end - with the two teams talking but inherently opposed and Magneto the only thing in between Merle and destruction. Piper around somewhere, Quentin is presumably still knocked out, and Xorn is ... where did he go? Looking for Quentin still, I guess?

In the introduction I flagged the pacing as illusively slow, and looking at this issue as well as zooming out I think it sticks out more than ever. At the end of last issue the Twin was heading for the town, the two X-Men teams were having a tense face-off, while Xorn searched for Quentin off panel. At the end of the issue the X-Men have said hello, the Twin walked a few hundred meters, and Mags took some medication.

He amped up but hasn't actually done anything. Nobody has, really. A 12 mutant brawl happened but nobody's hurt and they're back to where they started. There's just a hint of payoff here, a teaspoonful - enough to taste the flavour but not very filling. Staying on the Magneto example - #15 showed him asking for medication, #16 he took it and did a pose, and #17 presumably he'll interact with The Twin. Or maybe not. The twin, on the other hand, took 3 issues to walk to town. She stopped and started a lot, but it was in service of the choice 'destroy town Y/N?' She keeps choosing yes, urged on by Cassandra Nova, but we know that Merle isn't getting destroyed. They're probably not going to kill a child either, and that's a source of tension at least.

I'm not sure if it will be any better in the trade without serious editing. The start and end of each issue bleed into each other, so it's going to feel downright repetitive. At least we're getting further away from Raid and Chuck Hunt with every step, I just wish they'd pick up the pace. The line work is tight as always, the inks pop - contrasting brightly off the snowy backdrop, each character model is distinct and dynamic - but the choreography and blocking was flat for me. Being able to tell where people are in relation to each other is crucial, and the fight looked like the shadow of fierce without the sincerity.

I'd recommend it for the Magneto content alone, but everything tastes great when you're starving. I'm sympathetic to the rigor of double shipping in a hostile creative environment, but it's been sixteen issues. There's been bursts of brilliance like the Lundquist and Scott scenes but too much padding and repetition. The best scenes shine brightly, so it's not a talent deficit. It'd be nice to have a few excellent issues consecutively, you know? I feel like I say that, or something like it, every review. Hmm, I don't want to be repetitive, let's check out how my peers in X-Men reviewing are handling it.

...

Most sites stopped reviewing this book halfway through Raid on Graymalkin - even AIPT, who review everything positively. Looks like I'm on my own there. Fuck it - adjectiveless X-Men is fun enough - I just know that the team can do better. Thanks for reading.

[wholoveseggs]

Snow Queen

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}{Five Days of Fluffmas}

{Klaus Mikaelson x Reader} When Hope demands you help her build a snowman, Klaus reluctantly helps, crafting memories as warm as the love that binds their family together...

♡♡Happy Fluffmas♡♡

1.2 words - Warnings: flufffff, snowman building turned snow queen masterpiece, soft and affectionate Klaus, Hope's adorable enthusiasm && sweet kisses...

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

"Daddy!!!" Hope's little voice rang through the compound, echoing down the halls.

Klaus smiled to himself, he knew what this was about. He'd been hearing about the impending snowstorm for days now and was prepared for Hope's enthusiasm.

"Daddy!!!!! Y/n!!!!" she called again.

"In the study, Hope," he answered.

He watched as his little girl raced around the corner, cheeks rosy with excitement. Her hair was pulled back into pigtails, her favorite red and white plaid shirt on underneath her sweater. Klaus knew how much Hope loved the snow, she had since she was a baby, so he was not surprised when she announced, "It's snowing, Daddy!"

He smiled, "So I've heard. Did you need something, little wolf?"

"I wanna go make a snowman!" Hope declared. "Please, daddy. Can we go make one? Please?"

You were snuggled up next to Klaus on the couch, a book open in your lap, and looked over at him. You knew he was in a mood today, but also knew how hard it was for him to tell Hope no. You had a feeling you knew where this was headed.

"I'm not sure, love. It's awfully cold outside."

"But...but it's the first snowfall of the year," Hope pouted, looking down at her shoes. "Please, daddy. We have to make a snowman."

"Have to?" Klaus chuckled. "I'm not sure anyone should ever have to make a snowman."

Hope stuck her lip out and pouted, and you swore you saw tears forming in her eyes. Klaus saw it too, and you knew he was close to giving in. He never could resist his little girl.

"If your dad won't help, I will," you said, putting your book down. "What do you say, Hope? Want to go make a snowman with me?"

Her little eyes lit up, a huge smile spreading across her face. She nodded vigorously, clapping her hands.

"Alright then, get your jacket, scarf, and gloves, and we'll head outside."

"Okay!" She exclaimed, turning to race down the hall.

Klaus chuckled, watching her go. He leaned over, kissing the top of your head.

"I'll get you for this, love," he teased.

"Hmm...promises, promises," you smirked, kissing him on the lips.

You found Hope struggling to get her jacket on, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. You knelt down, taking her little hands in yours, and helped her get her coat on, buttoning it up.

"I could've done it," she insisted. She was so much like her father.

"I know, sweetheart, but the faster you get ready, the sooner we can go outside." You explained, helping her into her boots.

You pulled her mittens on her hands, making sure they were snug, before putting her hat and scarf on. Hope's cheeks were flushed with excitement and she giggled when you kissed her nose.

"All set?" you asked, holding out your hand.

"Yes, let's go!!" she said, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the door.

Klaus followed behind, smiling at the sight. He was wrapped up in his own coat, scarf, and gloves, and the three of you made your way to the door.

As soon as the front door opened, Hope raced outside, her little feet carrying her to the yard. She started jumping up and down, her mittened hands grabbing fistfuls of snow and tossing it into the air.

You and Klaus stepped out into the yard, watching as Hope ran around, laughing. The snow had just started to fall, but there was already a thick layer on the ground. You smiled at her innocence, soaking up her joy.

Klaus walked up beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He was smiling too, enjoying the moment.

"You've got her all riled up now," Klaus teased, his voice soft but laced with affection. 

"Admit it," you said, leaning into him. "You're enjoying this too."

"Perhaps," he replied, his lips curving into a small, begrudging smile.

"Daddy, Y/n, come on!" Hope's voice interrupted your moment. She was already rolling a small snowball across the yard, determined to start the base of her snowman. "We need to make the biggest snowman ever!"

Klaus sighed, feigning exasperation. "The things I do for this family," he muttered, stepping forward to help her. 

You followed, watching as Klaus knelt beside Hope, gently helping her shape the growing snowball. His gloved hands were careful yet efficient, and soon the base of the snowman was nearly as tall as Hope herself. 

"Now we need another one for the belly," Hope declared, pointing to you. "You can do this one, Y/n!"

You grinned and knelt down, starting to roll your own snowball. "On it, boss." 

Klaus watched you with amusement, his eyes softening as you worked. It wasn’t often he let himself get lost in simple family moments like this, but today he allowed it. 

When the second ball was ready, Klaus helped you lift it onto the base, his hands brushing against yours as he steadied the snow. The contact made your cheeks flush, and you caught his knowing smirk as he stepped back.

"Not bad," he said. "But we're far from done. A snowman deserves proper arms, doesn't it?"

Hope gasped. "Not just arms! She needs to be a snow queen! A magical snow queen!"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "A queen, you say? Well then, we shall make her worthy of the title." 

For the next hour, the three of you worked together, crafting the most elaborate snow queen the Mikaelson family had ever seen. Klaus took his task far too seriously, hunting for perfect twigs for arms and critiquing every berry Hope placed in the crown. 

"She needs balance, darling," he said, moving one berry half an inch to the left. 

"Daddy, you're being silly!" Hope giggled, shaking her head. 

You couldn’t help but laugh too, watching Klaus fuss over the details. He claimed to be indulging Hope, but it was clear he was enjoying himself just as much. 

When the snow queen was finally complete, Klaus took a step back and crossed his arms, admiring their work. "A masterpiece," he declared. "Fit for royalty, indeed."

Hope clapped her hands and twirled in delight. "She's perfect! Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, Y/n!"

Klaus bent into an exaggerated bow before the snow queen, earning a burst of laughter from Hope. "Your Majesty," he said solemnly, "it has been an honor."

You laughed, shaking your head at his theatrics. "I think you've outdone yourself, Klaus."

He straightened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Only for the two of you," he murmured softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. 

Your heart fluttered, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him. It was quick and sweet, but it was enough to send warmth flooding through you despite the chill in the air. 

"Ewwww," Hope groaned, covering her eyes. "Kissing is gross!"

You pulled back, laughing, while Klaus chuckled, his hand resting at the small of your back. 

"Not always," he teased, stealing another kiss from you.

Hope made a face, sticking her tongue out in disgust. "I'm gonna make a snow angel," she announced, flopping down onto her back and kicking her legs.

You and Klaus shared a grin, both watching her fondly. The snow was falling lightly, and the world seemed quieter, somehow.

"I love you," Klaus whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I love you, too," you replied, smiling.

And as the snow continued to fall, the three of you laughed and played, the cold forgotten in the warmth of love and family. For Klaus, there was no greater joy than that.

[slutterhaus]

AN: Clive has made tough times bareable so I wanted to make something cute rather than my regular nsfw content. Thank you @fallendev0tionvn for giving us the perfect bbygirl malewife to love 💕 definitely check out the demo for Fallen Devotion!!

CWs: None except maybe the mention of developing a small obsession with Clive. No beta, we die like barbarians

Other: Second Person POV, GN!Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship, Clive may be a little ooc I'm so sorry. Under read more because it's more than 100 words.

Word Count: 830

Music played through the small speaker located in the kitchen, joined by the sound of something being fried on the stove. You were peacefully making dinner, focused on whisking some eggs to add to the rice bowl recipe you found online. A smile played on your face as Clive’s reflection appeared in the cabinet’s window when you closed it. “Hey.” You greeted. “I know you don’t like anyone in the kitchen with you when you’re cooking.” He began, a playful look on his face as he held his hands up in defense. The dimples you adored were on full display, and while you both knew you couldn’t be mad at him, you decided to feign annoyance and cross your arms, quirking a brow as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “It just smells so good.” He said, emphasizing his statement by letting himself lean to the side as if he were about to faint, letting his arms dangle and closing his eyes.

You couldn’t help but snort at the scene when you turned around. “Alright, alright, sit down. If you were feeling lonely, you could’ve just asked, y’know.” With a victorious smile, he happily sat at the kitchen island that gave him the perfect view of you as you moved around.

You were 22 when Clive came back into your life, and if you were attached to the hip before, you were even more inseparable seven years later. Sometimes you thought therapy was in order, but you already lost Clive once, always wanting to be with him was rightfully justified in your mind. He didn’t seem to mind either, playfully teasing you about looking like a baby koala with the way you stuck with him.

Oh, who were the two of you kidding? Clive had rubbed off on you, and while you knew any type of obsession was unhealthy, you didn’t care at this point. You were happy, in a loving relationship with literally your best friend, and it’s all that mattered to you. All that mattered was that gorgeous smile beaming with appreciation as you set down the bowl of food in front of him, the way you could talk about everything and nothing, and how sweet he was with helping around the house like doing the dishes after dinner.

Though there was always something you wanted from him, something that made you a little nervous. And as he finished with the last dish, you took a deep breath. “Mi vida…” You called, shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“Mm?”

“Would you… give me my first tattoo?”

The question seemed to catch him off-guard, his shoulders tensing slightly before relaxing as he turned around. ‘You…. You sure?” He asked. While he showed some hesitancy, he seemed to be holding back his excitement. You had gifted him a Sol Nova Unlimited, and he went through the fake skins like they were napkins cleaning up a spill, so he was dying to show you just what he could do. "Now?"

"Do you have the stuff at hand? We don't even have a design." You giggled.

Clive paused for a moment before answering. "Oops."

The two of you shared a fit of laughs, landing on the couch as Clive went into his silent fit. The fact that he was struggling so much to get back his composure sent you even further into giggles, sides burning as you buried yourself under his arm to try and calm yourself. The moment was fairly quick, but it was something you were going to cherish forever. You didn't want to live another day without Clive, not when you were left breathless after something so silly. "Tomorrow, then." You said in bewteen soft gasps for air. "Make a list and we'll go get everything in the morning."

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing again with how giddy he looked, a toothy grin on his face as he jumped up from the couch and went to get his tablet.

"What'd you have in mind?" He called from the bedroom. You pulled out your phone as he entered the living room again, tablet in hand while you pulled up your inspiration pics. "You have total creative freedom to make changes, but I was thinking something like this." You said, showing your phone to Clive. He leaned in close, observing the photos with a focused look on his face.

"I got the perfect thing in mind."

A smile crept onto your face as you watched him work, heart swelling with what could only be described as pure love and adoration. Seven years and sometimes you can't believe your sweet boy is back home.

Sure, he looked a bit different, and the scar along his neck brought back painful memories once in a while, but all that mattered was that he was home.

[geeks-universe]

Gabriel (SPN) x Reader

9. “No, that’s the wrong- oh, dammit.”

For: @nova-willow-541

Sam and Dean weren't with you anymore.

Wherever you were.

One second, the three of you were tracking down a nasty demon with a penchant for slicing people open, and the next you were waking up alone in a hotel far fancier than the run-down, side-of-the-road motels you'd grown accustomed to.

Breathe in.

The room looked empty, and besides the gentle hum of elevator music coming from somewhere outside, there wasn't any noise that indicated someone else was there. Your gun was still holstered at your side, and a quick once over of your person revealed nothing out of place. It seemed like the only oddity was you.

Breathe out.

You still had your weapons and your wits. Whatever game this demon was playing at, they made a mistake by leaving you armed. You were thorough in your examination of the decadent room, even if it didn't result in much information. The room was clean, everything neatly put away. Light filtered in through the window, and upon inspection of the outside view, you couldn't glean anything more than it was daytime and there was nobody on the streets.

The bathroom was decidedly empty, which only left the door to the hallway. Palming your phone in one hand, you positioned yourself by the entrance while attempting to contact Sam, the more likely of the two to answer.

Not even a full ring got through before-

"Where are you?"

"I was hoping you would know," you admitted, "I'm in some kind of hotel. No idea how I got here."

Sam hummed on the other end, papers shifting somewhere in the foreground.

"You were walking with us..."

"Then poof," Dean said, and you could picture the irritation on his face.

"Okay, so definitely not demon related though, right?" You asked, rolling your shoulders. It was only a matter of time before you had to engage in a fight, might as well be ready.

"I don't think so."

"Try to find what you can, we'll look around the area you disappeared at, see if we can get a lead." Sam reasoned.

Trusting the younger brother's intuition, you gave an affirmative before hanging up. You'd think after years of hunting the things that go bump in the night you'd lose the bit of fear you feel before jumping headlong into a case, but you'd yet to do so. Instead, you steeled yourself with a deep breath, slowly opening the hallway door.

The corridor was dimly lit, and the sound of the elevator music was much louder now. It was quiet otherwise, however, and there wasn't anyone else present. Actually, it looked pretty normal.

Curiously, you crept forward, your gun leading the charge as you slid forward, steps nearly imperceptible on the marble flooring. You reached the first door, surprised to find the handle turning without a key. Just as you'd begun to swing the door open, a voice behind you warned:

"No, that's the wrong- oh, dammit."

It was too late.

You'd always been a little trigger happy, and damn it all if you weren't scared half to death already with the sudden scenery change. So, it wasn't entirely surprising that you'd shot towards the surprising voice.

Luckily, you had enough restraint not to shoot the person, rather just beside them.

Still, Gabriel stared at the wall beside him that now sported a lodged bullet.

"What. The. Hell."

His whiskey eyes kept bouncing between the wall and you, before finally settling on you as a slow smirk spread across his lips. He waggled his eyebrows dramatically.

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to-"

"Gabriel!"

"Right, right," he rubbed the back of his neck, though there was still a laugh playing on his mouth. "Sorry."

"What are you doing here?" You asked, then paused. "Better yet, what am I doing here?"

"You did promise me a date," he reminded you, looking far too casual for the events that had just transpired. "I was just cashing in."

"A date," you repeated, pressing your palm to your temple. You could already feel a headache coming on from the adrenaline. "So where-"

"Aruba, actually," he shrugged, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Thought you could use a tropical reset."

It took a minute or two for you to understand fully what he was saying. He'd brought you here for a date? To some random hotel while in the middle of a hunt?

You'd need to have a serious talk about boundaries, even if you couldn't quite be upset at the kicked puppy look he was actively giving you. Besides, you had meant it when you'd mentioned a date, you were just surprised he remembered.

"Okay," you nodded, then repeated yourself more firmly. "Okay."

"Okay," he smiled, taking a step toward you to- what? embrace you? kiss you?

"Before we-" you paused, gesturing vaguely to the hotel. "We should go somewhere else."

If he'd looked like a kicked puppy earlier, now he looked downright distraught.

"You don't like this place?"

"Uh, no," you reached out for his hand, pleasantly surprised when he laced his fingers through yours. "But I did just fire a shot off in the middle of the hallway, so maybe let's go somewhere I didn't do that."

His laugh echoed through the corridor as he snapped his fingers, whisking you away.

[keysimash]

okay meta knight enjoyers. Picture this.

You hold out your arms in front of you.

Your muscles are tense. You wait in anticipation, and the only warning you get is the faint swoosh of air before a certain Knight above your head pulls his wings in and dives into your arms.

You still can't help but huff and you sag a little with the weight of him. He's wearing his full set of armor, for Nova's sake, and his compact, round body is incredibly dense, not soft and squishy in most places but hard muscle that ripples under your hands where you've happened to touch him. He flaps his wings to adjust himself in your hold, and the gusts of air hit your flushed face and feel incredibly nice, hes not passive in your hold at all, rather, he wriggles, adjusts himself, pushes his gloved hands onto your arms and props himself up to look you full in the face.

"You haven't dropped me," he rumbles. "That's good."

Because yes, the first few dozen times you had, admittedly, dropped him -- nothing he didnt instantly turn into a graceful move on his part, landing on metal-clad feet with a clank like a armor-donning cat -- but he'd looked dissatisfied, and said something about "poor performance" and before you knew it catching Meta Knight midair had become part of your strength training.

And of course this strength training also involved more conventional excersize, which he watched like a hawk, because he wanted to memorize all your muscle groups, him being an alien to you and you being an alien to him. So he watched the way your body moved, drank it all in, and optimized your routine before throwing his dense, heavy self into your arms, over and over and over.

And you've caught him. And held him. Your arms shake.

"You've gotten stronger," he observes, and his gloves run up and squeeze your biceps lightly.

And then.

His wing.

He takes one wing, and bends it so the clawed talon presses just under your head, tilting your chin up to look at him:

"That's very good."

And that's when you let go of him.

He spreads his wings wide, catching himself, glides down to the ground and is forced to look up at you once again. He looks -- confused, a bit, eyes narrowed, before he blinks and realization dawns on him. A non judgemental, but very aware sort of gaze.

"Now we'll have to get you to the point where I can perch on one of your arms."

You're welcome Meta knight enjoyers. Hahahaha