#hahaha weeps

[duelheld]

A male with long red hair looks on at III, his stare calm. Focused. Perhaps even a bit intrigued, smiling gently as he tilts his head.

"Pink Hair. That genetic?" He asks, clearly very....awkward about having a natural conversation. His smile is still there, his eyes just...watching. waiting, wondering what will be answered...

     guess he could say that, one of his older brother's had that too. though it made him wonder sometimes how his two older siblings were so different from him, they had no similar colour schemes. especially if others looked at their father, not that he could remember what his mother looked like. he missed her.

thankfully, it wasn't knowledge about iv having siblings. so he and chris was able to go about without fans pestering either about being related to a sadistic duelist of a brother.

"you can say that," he replied with a slight frown, there wasn't much a need to bring it up. there were many others like yuma who had similar hair colour, if this was his way to start a conversation, it was terrible.

[foxett]

GRAHHH CURSE OF SUNTAN 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️(I'm literally on the verge of passing out) hurt/comfort, neutral ending, bad ending, good ending and future!!!!! Yay

[noyzinerd]

Derek: I haven't been called cool since I was 16. I'm starting to think I peaked in highschool.

Stiles: That's impossible. You hadn't even met me yet. *smirks, winks*

Derek:

Derek: I know you're just saying that as like some kind of clever, self-aggrandizing quip about how you are actually the best thing in my "sad" life while also trying to make a subtle jab at me about how I wasn't truly "complete" until you "graced" me with your "glorious presence", or whatever, and that I'll "never know anything greater than you for as long as I live". Derek: But joke's on you. You are, I wasn't until you did, and I never will. So, take that.

Stiles:

Derek: Your move, smart guy.

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

Uh Oh ! Brainrotting !

bloodless under cut

wink wonk or smthn

[age-of-moonknight]

Murderworld: Moon Knight (Vol. 1/2023), #1.

Writers: Jim Zub and Ray Fawkes; Artist: Luca Pizzari; Colorist: Matt Milla; Letterer: Cory Petit

[kissingdeadgirls]

i do think that alex horne goes home from taskmaster studio tapings and just sits in the dark for 20 minutes because greg is just not mean enough

[inkykeiji]

you dont have to reply to this if this is too personal a question! but would you consider your childhood + upbringing more toxic than others? my dad also has addictions along with a mental health diagnoses and its hard to talk about it to people, even my friends, who think addiction is like the show Euphoria (this show on hbo) but like some parts of youre writing is like a mirror image of situations ive been in with my family! it just feels real reading your stuff in an amazing way

tw: trauma + clari overshares!

absolutely, 100%. my father was and still is extremely abusive on top of all of his other issues, and my mother also has a severe mental illness. my house was constant turmoil and i used to cry when the school day would end because i didn’t want to go home. it was extremely unstable and i grew up walking on eggshells trying not to trigger one or both of my parents, as well as acted as an emotional punching bag often. i had to do things and witness things no child should ever have to go through, and i cannot express to you how utterly alone i felt, growing up in a small town where it seemed as though everyone else had these wonderful home lives and loving parents and just an overall great childhood. none of my friends understood anything and for a long time, when i was very young, i couldn’t figure out why everything was so much worse at my house than it was for anyone else around me.

so i totally and completely understand where you’re coming from. it’s really rough and it feels incredibly isolating. even now, i don’t have any in real life friends who can understand even in the slightest what i had to go through as a child, and while they’re fantastic listeners and so sweet and so sympathetic, they cannot and will never get it (and i’m glad about that obv! i’d never wish what i went through as a kid on anyone). please know that you are not at all alone in feeling like no one else can truly understand.

i’m so happy and so grateful that i have this little community where i can share some of my work and provide comfort or catharsis or whatever they need etc for people like me, whether they experienced trauma as children or as adults or both. that’s so so special to me and it genuinely means the whole world to me <3 it makes me feel less alone and it brings me a ton of comfort!! so thank you for sharing this with me!!! i’m so sorry you’ve had to go through similar experiences :(( we did and do deserve so so so much better.

i am sending you bunches and bunches of love anon!!! <333 please take good care of yourself <3

[landwriter]

I posted 421 times in 2022

That's 421 more posts than 2021!

131 posts created (31%)

290 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@softest-punk

@landwriter

@fishfingersandscarves

@teejaystumbles

@moorishflower

I tagged 393 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#the sandman - 273 posts

#dreamling - 206 posts

#dream of the endless - 106 posts

#hob gadling - 98 posts

#asks - 73 posts

#ruined once again by gorgeous art - 58 posts

#dream x hob - 47 posts

#my writing - 39 posts

#the sandman fanfic - 36 posts

#saint morpheus in stained glass - 34 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#maybe i'm biased but i think learning about things you'd never have encountered otherwise bc someone has done research as a hobby and woven

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

thinking about dream this morning. thinking about how he dresses buttoned up to the neck in finery for every meeting with hob. thinking it might be like armour. thinking he must keep his feelings in his shoulders his forearms the base of his throat and that’s why he has to keep them covered around hob. thinking of the tension in his body. thinking of his clothes as holding him together. thinking if hob ever reached over and undid a single button he fears the whole of him would spill out and swallow hob up. thinking it might be like courtship. thinking it might be like declaration. thinking it might be like ritual. thinking he might not magic it all off when he returns to the dreaming after their meetings. thinking that maybe instead once every hundred years dream undresses by hand. thinking he sometimes imagines the hands of another. thinking about hob’s warm knuckles brushing his throat. thinking about the rasp of hob’s calloused fingers across the lines of his collarbone. thinking that alone would be enough to be undone. thinking about hob’s lips pressing a kiss to the tender spot where his collar had pressed against his neck all the same. thinking about centuries of wanting. thinking about centuries of denial. thinking about clothes.

1,085 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

#4

Hob is not the daylight to Dream's darkness. He is not the sun to Dream's moon.

Dream is a night sky, Dream is darkness that swallows you whole, Dream is the pale brushstrokes of the moon spilling into your home while you are sleeping, yes -

But Hob is not the day. He is not the yellow glow of a distant star, but the heat and light right here, the heat and light of men. He is fire. He is the hearth. He is the heat we make and the light we tame. Hob is no sunrise. Hob wants.

Hob is the hot roar under the stars, licking into darkness and swallowing it back. Hob is the wild flickering light upon walls that makes us want to tell strange stories. Hob is the steadfast hunger of the most sated fire, burnt down to lazy embers, tracing orange veins into blackened wood, and ready, always ready, to burn for more.

Hob is no star. Hob is a light that is, in comparison, terribly young and terribly human. Hob is a warmth that comes from loving something so much you would consume it forever. It is the opposite of a sun. Hob asks for more. Hob says, Oh, yes.

Hob does not banish the night. He lights it, and he lights it from the ground. He is comfortable in the darkness. But if he is a light of any kind, it is this.

Dream is night. Hob is fire. They both consume. They both desire.

1,118 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

#3

thinking about writing a 250k established relationship dreamling fic spanning centuries of dream keeping a diary of soft vignettes about his husband hob and their lives together just so I can title it My Immortal

1,133 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

#2

hob gadling being so goddamn normal compared to his anthropomorphic husband, in-laws, and husband's social circle that he circles right back around to being the more sus/shady one OR hob gadling keeps accidentally derailing dream's attempts to be King of Nightmares by horny vibes/going "joke's on you, i'm into it"/"promise?" to any and all threats

Hob isn't normal, is the thing. He's not. He never was. He was smouldering with strangeness and hunger long before his future sister-in-law took one look at him and decided he'd be good for her little brother.

He asked her, once, bit drunk, if that was why she chose him: if she'd heard him forswearing her in the White Horse and looked at him, peered into the contents of his soul, and thought: well, there's one at least as stubborn as my brother - maybe they'll be good for each other. She'd just smiled and waited for Hob to take another sip before saying, "Good? I just thought it would be interesting," and twinkled at him when he sputtered. Hob said older sisters were terrors, and they'd toasted to that.

Whether she'd intended or not, they were good for each other, him and Dream. It took them a little bit to realize, a small handful of centuries holding one another at arm's length for fear of what would be seen any closer. Then they'd crashed together anyways, and it had turned out they were matched not just in that bloody-minded stubbornness to keep a decent thing going, but also in all the intensity they'd tried to smother to do so, the roaring hunger and devotion and need; the both of them strange creatures capable of giving so much and greedy enough to take just as much in kind.

On the outside, though, others see Dream, his distance, his power, the thunder of his voice, and don't see it as the armour it is, the necessary carapace protecting the sort of tender feelings that could scorch the entire earth, because he is a vessel for human emotions that are strong enough to live on in stories and dreams, because he is, in that respect, - and Hob gets choked up about this, if he allows himself to think about it too much - fundamentally more human than him, than all of them, the embodiment of every fantasy and fear and tall tale of men, tending to them each night, taking no rest for himself.

On the outside, others see Hob, his banal humanness, and other humans assume the rest of him is the same, and so do most non-humans, except they're baffled by it, baffled by why he is Dream's husband. So he plays it up, because it's funny, and if they're too incurious or gullible to figure out what lays beneath, then that's alright, because his husband figured it out, and loves him for it, and that's all he needs.

Dream didn't understand at first why Hob acted extra human whenever they mingled with other capital-e Entities and inhuman sorts, but now he finds it so amusing as well that Hob wonders how the gig isn't up from the moment anyone sees his twitching smirk. His husband has a terrible poker face, Hob thinks.

He's much better at pretending. In fact, he's so good at performing the petty normality expected of him that it goes full circle and becomes, somehow, magnetically strange to all the fantastical creatures in his husband's social circle.

He had not realized the heady effect of normal human upon non-humans until the time he had gone to a Samhain 'do in the Underhill, in his formal role as Prince Consort to the Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, first of his name, et cetera, and, rather comfortable with those sort of events by then, which were really not that dissimilar to interdepartmental faculty parties, with all the posturing and alcohol, only far better outfits, had, a bit soused on the fantastic elphin mead, accidentally started talking with a member of the faerie delegation about the football tables. At first he thought he'd committed a faux pas when the faerie just stared at him, slack-jawed, but later that night, he'd found himself surrounded by a cluster of wide-eyed dryads and undine and fae, gratifyingly holding court on why Billy Wright had been such a shite Arsenal manager. Apparently, it was the highlight of the evening.

It also helps grease the wheels of immortal statecraft, which Hob thinks of as something of a secondary benefit to making his husband smile. He would be a fierce bodyguard and soldier for Dream, in a heartbeat, he would curry favour on his behalf with pretty words and eager gladhanding, but what works out best, he's realized, is when important folk approach them to talk shop with Dream, to head it off with warm conversation about things like Tube construction, ABBA, and sausage rolls, until they look thoroughly disconcerted, before gracefully handing them off to his husband.

Whenever the occasion allows it, he'll skip on the finery too (another thing, he thinks, that he only cares about his husband seeing). Once, a baku ambassador, himself arrayed in glorious golden robes that matched his sharp gilt claws, had been so baffled by Hob's appearance on the arm of Dream, in his ratty old jeans and a United jersey he got as a gag gift once (and, on principle, refuses to wear in the Waking) that the chimera had absently agreed with Dream's suggestion for revised quotas on devouring nightmares.

Dream had been so delighted by that victory that he'd pressed Hob up against the front door of their flat in Islington, the moment they got back in, and laid kisses all over the hideous jersey, murmuring that Hob was a fearsome diplomat, and Hob had laughed and said he was only a distraction, then let Dream drag him to the bedroom anyways to thank him for his contribution.

Some see what's underneath, of course, and Hob's just as glad for that too.

The second time they'd had dinner with Crowley and Aziraphale, well past the food and making excellent headway on the rest of the wine, Dream had been called away on urgent business. Hob thought the night would end there, but the moment Dream left, Crowley had leveled an unsober finger of accusation at Hob and said, "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing."

Hob hadn't needed to try and look confused, but then Crowley leaned in and said, conspiratorially and only accidentally hissing a little, "This 'regular bloke' thing, but you're worssse than him, aren't you? Bet you are. Bet anything," and Aziraphale had genuinely emitted a tiny gasp of affront on Hob's behalf, and Hob was too busy laughing to say that he wasn't wrong at all, while Crowley gleefully swiveled around and said "I told you so, angel. S'obvious. Humansss. Not a normal one among 'em."

It was a lovely thing to say, actually, and all too easy for Hob to forget sometimes, being a particularly abnormal human leading a particularly abnormal life. But Crowley knew what he was talking about. He spent far more time with humanity compared to most of the inhuman lot. When Hob had made him promise to keep his secret from the rest of them - humanity's secret, really - and explained why, Crowley had laughed and laughed and laughed. He thinks it's the moment they became proper friends.

Hob isn't normal, is the thing.

But it's fun to don it like ceremonial garb and be an ambassador of humanity twice over: in truth and performance both. It's fun to be exactly what's expected and still disconcert.

And most of all, it's fun to go back home with his husband, to their terribly normal human flat, and curl up together in their terribly normal human bed, and watch Dream's face flush with pride or amusement as he debriefs Hob on what chaos he's wrought this time, intentionally or otherwise, with his terribly normal human presence, and Hob just laughs, then smiles until his face hurts, because Dream is his husband, wholly apart from humanity and still the most human creature Hob has met, and he knows all the ways that Hob feels like both, too.

1,370 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

headcanon where hob adopts a little cat that was living in the alley behind the new inn and after an enemies-to-friends slow burn (250k) dream and the cat become bffs and one day dream says are you bored? come to work with me, tiny emissary of the night and the next morning hob is reading the news and spittakes his tea when he sees the headline Black Cat Crossed Your Path? Scientists Theorize Collective Unconscious After Same Cat Reported In Nation's Dreams

3,659 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[yellow0jello2]

disney villain meaning I'm FUCKING SCAR HAHAHAHAHA YES

new quiz y'all! worked on this until 4 am lol. reblog and tell me, what kind of supervillain are you?

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

who's the cutest side character in s class heroine and why is it hestio ligenel.

his silly tsundere banter with ephael where he talks and yells like ephael is a nuisance and thorn in the side but the two of them are always side by side anyway.

the scene from the webnovel in the toy mansion, where ailette gave ephael extra food and hestio visibly looked extremely upset but didn't say a word about it

the iconic "if you keep using honorifics then we won't be your friends anymore!!!"/"huh? i thought you said tesilid wasn't your friend"/"shut up!!! are you going to let him keep talking like that!" scene.

the gap moe of hestio's resting bitch face (in the webnovel he and ailette locked eyes before the dungeon sink and she instantly averted her eyes bc he looked super mad ahsjdj) vs the way he very frequently looks out for the people around him. and also the gap moe of his long black hair in a elegant braid, and then he opens his mouth and he's just yelling his head off. also the fact that as an adult he normally speaks in a somewhat straight-laced manner, but he's also cheeky and quick to pull people's legs

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“Kaine,” Amazing Spider-Man (Vol. 3/2014), #1.

Writer: Christopher Yost; Penciler: David Baldeón; Inker: Jodi Tarragon; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Chris Eliopoulos

[poppyknitt]

yknow you can really tell i’m mentally suited for tumblr now/silly

[lilisettean]

Fogged Mirror | Zayne/Reader

About: You went to check on Zayne when you felt a sudden drop in temperature. You knew he was in the shower but... What if he was in pain again because of Evol overuse? Couldn't hurt to check right? Until one thing let to another and...

Pairing: Zayne/Reader

Notes: I saw the artwork for Zayne's Lingering Warmth and yeah. Mirrors. Fogged mirrors. And my brain ran with it hahaha...

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Hinted no protection. Age 18+ only please. Enjoy :)

“Open your eyes and look at yourself. Good… good girl.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, doing your best to fight against the waves of pleasure that coursed through you at that moment and not let your eyes roll back. The vapor and water droplets that clung to the mirror in front of you made it difficult to see what Zayne wanted you to see, but you managed. 

And was it a sight. 

You were naked in front of the full length mirror the bathroom has, your skin flushed from the heat. And Zayne was right behind you; his hands grabbing your hips as he slid his hardened cock between your thighs, both of your towels laid forgotten on the damp floor. 

Fleetingly you thought, how did this even happen; how did you coming to check on Zayne when you felt a sudden drop in temperature after your shower led to you having his cock so sinfully close to your heat?

That thought, however, was quickly forced out of your mind the moment he pulled back, the reddish tip of his cock grazing your clit as he thrusted forward. You grapsed at his hands and arch your back, or as much as you could with him lifting and holding you in place, the sensations from him brushing your clit with the side of his cock and fucking your slick folds was so overwhelming that you let out the moan that you’ve been holding in for so long.

“Don’t hold back.” Zayne murmured against your ear, his breath tickling your earlobe. Was it your imagination or he had picked up the pace a little?

You fought against the cloudy haze of lust that had descended upon your mind and opened your eyes, wanting to see more of his reaction. Through the mirror you saw him bite his lip as he thrusted, his brows furrowed and face tense, as though controlling himself. The hands that were on your hips were making indents into your skin, and while you cannot see it with all the water vapor in the room, you could feel his precum leaking and dripping onto your inner thighs.

“Mmh– Zayne–” You breathed out, his thrusts growing sloppier and more erratic with each call of his name. You could feel his cock throbbing against your heat, and God, did you want him to just–

“Ah–!” You let out a startled moan when he suddenly slid a hand under your thigh and lifted it, giving himself better access as he pushed his weeping tip past your entrance. 

“Focus on me.” He said, nipping your earlobe as his other hand found your cheek and kept you in place, making you watch him slowly sheath his cock within you, inch by inch. It was as though he was making you acknowledge that you belonged to him now, that he was the only one that could ever see you in such a state.

You squirmed as his cock made its way deeper into you, his girth stretching you more than your fingers ever could. His grip on your thigh tightened when your walls fluttered around him, clenching him and tempting him to just give in to his lust for you.

“You alright?” He asked once he was completely within you, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head while waiting for you to adjust. He grunted when you clenched around him to test the waters, his cock twitching in anticipation in response.

At your nod, he kissed the top of your head once more, before holding your cheek in place, rendering you unable to look away from the full length mirror.

“Now watch.” Zayne whispered as he slowly dragged his cock out of you, leaving only the tip in. “Good girl.” 

[dark-and-kawaii]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Their Girl For The Night ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✧˖° Summary: Imagine sitting on the ground just outside the tiefling party, your back pinned to Zevlor’s chest as he keeps you locked in place while Halsin eats you out as if you were his last me…

✧˖° Pairings: Halsin x F!Reader/Tav x Zevlor

✧˖° Content: NSFW - Cunnilingus - Halsin Eats You Out So Well - Zevlor Holds You In Place - Anal - Vaginal Sex - Squirting - Big Dick Halsin & Zevlor

✧˖° Notes: This is pure smut, I had the idea while horny for Zevlor now please enjoy and be horny with me hahaha xoxo

Zevlor’s arms hold you firm against his chest, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, his breath hot against your neck, “Such a pretty thing, you are.” His tail finds its way up your outer thigh, slowly dragging across your skin before stoping at your stomach- the tip of it tracing slow little circles around your belly button.

You writhe and buck against Zevlor, desperate to get away from the overwhelming pleasure, “Ngh~ S’Zevy~ Mngh~~~!!!” Your words slurred, a jumble of half made syllables that were barely comprehensible, “I- Mah~ My~ c-Can’t~ Haaa!!!!”

“You can,” Zevlor moves to nip and lap at the nape of your neck, his horns scraping light patterns against your cheek, “and you will.”

Halsin chuckles, his breath ghosting over your wet sex, his hands kneading into your thighs, his tongue flicking and pressing against your clit with expert precision before diving his skilled tongue back inside your weeping hole.

Your back arches against Zevlor, a loud whorish moan falling from your parted lips, a thick line of drool slowly trickling down your chin, eyes lidded and glazed with lust.

You could feel Zevlor’s cum seeping from your stretched asshole, prior to Halsin getting his paws on you, Zevlor had bent you over the side of a fallen tree and fucked you like his own personal cumdump…

- The feeling of his calloused hands roaming over every inch of you, groping and fondling and squeezing, his mouth biting and sucking and licking, his tongue teasing and tasting, his cock ramming into you, his balls slapping against you with every rough thrust, his tail twirling and flicking your clit. You were a mess by the time Zevlor was finished, and when he came inside you, he took special care to push it all deep within you- he wanted his cum to be trapped inside you, not wanting a single drop to escape. The hellrider wanted to know that you’d be leaking his cum each step you took the next day. -

A hard bite against the sensitive flesh of your clit snaps you from your thoughts.

“FH~!!!! Noooo~!!! Hal-Halsin~!!! Ah~! T-too w’rou-rough” Your eyes screw shut as tears prick the corners of your eyes, “Zev~ pllllleaa~se- itz too mu-ch-“

“Look at the way your juices spill out from you, my dear- the way they coat his face. The way your thighs quake, the way your hips jolt, as if well as the way your toes curl, it is all so lovely.” Zevlor pulls and twists one of your nipples, just enough to send another wave of pleasure crashing over you, the waves of your impending orgasm threatening to drown you.

Halsin’s eyes watched your face, drinking in your every expression, memorizing each sound, taking in the way your body quivered and writhed and twisted under his touch, how you were coming apart at the seams.

He wanted to hear you scream, wanted everyone to hear how you were claimed tonight and enjoyed the pleasures he could give.

Taking the swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth, his tongue laving and massaging the sensitive nub, his nose pressed against your pelvis- inhaling the intoxicating musky scent that was only you. His fingers plunged into your dripping sex, curling and pressing and scissoring, the slick sounds of his fingers thrusting into you were loud and filthy.

He felt the way your walls fluttered and twitched, the telltale sign of your incoming orgasm.

Releasing your clit from his mouth, his hand replaced his tongue, the other hand pulling his fingers from you, and in a quick motion, his fingers were shoved back inside you, and a third was added, curling them upwards, pressing into your plush walls, “Let it go- cum for us my heart, allow us both to taste your sweet nectar.”

Your eyes were wide, the feeling of the sudden stretch, the sensation of his fingers pressing and curling against your sweet spot, the command that came from Halsin… Your vision goes white and your entire body seizes up- a long, loud moan falling from your open mouth, and your release soaks his hand, coating his palm, his wrist, his arm, his chin, his mouth…

He drinks you in like a man dying of thirst, the sweet ambrosia coating his throat. He doesn't stop until you beg for him to, tears staining your flushed cheeks, “Please- P-pleeease… n-no m-more… t-too m-much~ a-aahhhhhh~~ Z-Z-Zevy~~~ Halllsinnn~!”

Another wave of pleasure rushes through you, a dry orgasm from Halsin suckling on your overly sensitive clit, his tongue swiping the little bud one last time before pulling away, his fingers leaving you with an obscene pop.

You were a sweaty, sticky, panting, shaking, and crying mess… It felt as if you were going to pass out, the world around you spinning and swirling.

You were dimly aware of the movement behind you, rustling and pulling you into his lap, into Zevlor’s lap. His cock already hard and rutting against your still sensitive pussy.

The feeling of Zevlor pushing into causes a pathetic whine to fall from your mouth. Your hips pulled flush against his, his cock buried to the hilt, the tip kissing the entrance to your womb, “Ngh, Zev~ Haaaaaaaa~ too much, it's- hhaaaa- so good- fuuuuuckk- but too- too much, t-tooooooo m-much. M-mooore~!”

His tail wrapped around your thigh, spreading your legs wider granting Halsin better access…

The Druid positioned himself at your already stuffed hole, the tip of his cock pushing inside of you, the head of his large cock attempting to slip in and stretching the sensitive ring of muscles…

You weren’t sure who spiked the three of yours drinks with one of Ethel’s potions, but you were thankful they did. You only hoped that you wouldn’t be to fucked out tomorrow so you can find and thank whoever it was..

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Happy Father's Day~ (for the Dads of KBASW)

Did you think I would be late for Father's Day (like last year)? Hahaha yes!

King Dedede & Banadana Dee:

I've kept King Dedede's Arc pretty hush (since it does dive into pretty dark territory) and Bandee is extremely integral to his change. And you can understand why Dedede's incredibly attached to Bandee (vice-versa).

Bandee is one of the only ones who believed in the king and stayed by his side. And King Dedede growing a drive to change... wanting to become someone worthy of Bandee's trust and loyalty.

After Escargoon quits on him (which affects & hurts him greatly), he promises to do everything he can to "treat dis boy right!"Which results in King Dedede treating him more like a son than his right-hand man.

King Fisher, Prince Fluff & Falspar:

As I've said before Fisher King adored his son to bits and pieces ... and gave his life just for the chance to be a father. And never regretted having Fluff... if his accident is what leads him to have his son then he doesn't regret that either.

(Basically, a near-death experience was what led him & his wife to be unable to have children... an accident that Falspar was blamed for by Uther & the Ancients to save face...)

After the whole debacle with the Grail & Faspar wants to make it up to Fluff, (even though Fluff has already forgiven him). However, that's not good enough for Falspar so what does he do...

This is basically Falspar's walk of penance (similar to his counterpart Sir Percival)... And he does this by finding out what happened to Fluff's mom for him. They were both able to give each other the closure they needed: Falspar with the King Fisher incident with the Grail & Fluff with the disappearance of his mom...

Falspar becomes a second father to Fluff he's affectionately called Uncle Parry by him (Fluff). Falspar's laid-back nature was just what Fluff needed in his life. Being there for Fluff gave Falspar this unspeakable sense of fulfillment... finally understanding what the Grail meant... and King Fisher's attitude of gratitude for him.

Fisher was always thankful to Falspar for his accident because it's what led him to have a son... and Falspar in turn becomes grateful to Fisher because of his son (Fluff).

(Gah~ still weeping)

Sir Arthur & Meta Knight:

As I've said before, when Meta Knight was born he was sent through the dream fountain as a living bomb by Nightmare. He (MK) would not obey him and saw him as a failed experiment so he expelled him hoping he could do a little damage... believing he would die on arrival.

He was wrong... Meta Knight's creation was blasphemy and the fact he didn't have a warpstar was proof of that. He was an astral that was born out of the creation of Void.

And of course, Sir Uther tried to execute him immediately... but Sir Arthur wasn't having it. Everyone saw a monster, but all Sir Arthur could see was a frightened little boy begging for someone to save him... (it was a feeling all too familiar when he dealt with Sir Uther's cruelty).

Not only that he couldn't bear to see another innocent being accused of treason *cough* Celestine.

Using all the knowledge & the lessons he's had (with Celestine/ Merlyn) he manages to convince the Ancients to spare Meta's life and allow him to take the baby in. And his new status as "holy knight" protected him so Uther couldn't do anything to override his decision.

However, the old toad had one last (pathetic) try and exclaimed, "IF YOU KEEP THAT SPAWN OF NIGHTMARE YOU WILL NO LONGER BE MY RIGHT HAND AND I WILL DISSOWN YOU!"

Uther had assumed he'd come crawling back believing he still had Arthur under his thumb. (Little did he know Arthur had changed a long time ago.) Instead, he turns to his old mentor "Then I would formally like to abdicate my position as your right-hand man."

Arthur turns back to Meta and scoops him in his arms wrapping him in his cape (the red cape). "And besides I'll have my hands full and won't be able to properly take care of this one."

"WHAT!?"

He walked away from his cruel master and never looked back. Meta Knight always saw Arthur as his savior, but in reality, it was Meta Knight who saved him.

After Celestine's death (or that's what he thought), Arthur was really struggling, and even more so after she was erased.

Being one of the only people who remembered her, apart of him thought she might have been a figment of his imagination. But he didn't care "Even if she was just a dream... then she was a beautiful dream..." and as long as Merlyn existed... so did she.

He held on to the memory of her for dear life... "that there was always something to live for... "Meta Knight was that something to him.

Kirby & Meta Knight:

Guys, I don't think I need to explain the last one that much cause... come on it's "Meta Dad."

(I'd expand on this more but then we'd be here for hours/ also that would be spoilers to KBASW: The Knightmare's End... I really got to finish the next chapter)

Basically Sunshine heals old lonely war veteran~

The whole father-son relationship between Kirby & Meta Knight is two outsiders finding this family within each other... and then in turn being able to make a safe space for everyone and each other.

Their Father-Son relationship ultimately made each other grow closer to their respective destinies. With Kirby becoming a Star Warrior and Meta Knight becoming the leader of the GSA,

So anyway I hope you enjoyed the dads of KBASW!