#this is my first time ever watching an anime

[cherrybr4t]

hoshi as your boyfriend (+18)

(sfw + nsfw)

warnings: first half is all FLUFF <3 nsfw part included too! dancer!hoshi, dancer!reader, fem reader, unprotected sex 😔, public sex, creampie, mirror sex, orgasm denial + edging, they r in luv! <3

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s the school’s infamous dance captain, while you’re a member of the dance club. that’s how the both of you met.

boyfriend!soonyoung who was known to be a dynamic ball of energy, but with you — he was so shy initially. thought you were too pretty to approach, thought you looked out of reach. took him a while to be able to be friends with you.

boyfriend!soonyoung finally had the balls to confess to you after working on a dance project with you for 2 months. impulsive 2am thoughts and a slip of the tongue while the both of you were slurping down cup noodles after practice.

“—so yeah jihoon wouldn’t stop making fun of me, especially about my crush on you and—”

“what?”

“…what did i say?”

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s superrr clingy. even if it’s a separate practice session for team projects within the dance club, he’s gonna be at yours. sitting at the back, the front, beside the mirrors — wherever. (and it makes the juniors/other members nervous as HELL)

boyfriend!soonyoung who gets pouty when you tell him not to show up all the time — “it intimidates the rest!” but he promises to not be noticed the next time; cue him going to your next practice in a ball cap and mask, sitting at the back corner.

boyfriend!soonyoung who is always willing to help and guide you patiently. (though he is always impatient and scary with the other team members) with you though — he can never lose his temper at you. every mistake you make causes him to giggle like you’re the cutest thing ever.

“you’re so cute baby,”

you pout “i’m sorry baby… i can’t seem to get this even though i’ve done it like - 20 times.”

“it’s okay baby, you’re doing so well. doing better than dino even.”

you tilt your head…”that’s impossible”

“i’ll happily watch you practice it a 100 times angel,”

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s your biggest supporter. he’s your biggest fan. after every performance, he never fails to gift you the biggest & most dramatic bouquet of flowers with a little tiger plushie in the middle. with the longest heartfelt letter sealed in a tiger print envelope.

boyfriend!soonyoung who feels so lucky to have you. because if you think he’s dramatic? you’re even MORE dramatic. customised tiger gifts for him, an even bigger bouquet of flowers for him, and the cutest love letter he has pinned on his board at home.

boyfriend!soonyoung who is always your biggest defender. anytime he hears people talking shit about you — he’s immediate to thrash things out with them. always reminds people how hardworking you are, and loves to talk about you to everyone he knows.

“she’s the prettiest, kindest, purest soul i’ve ever met. and have you seen her dance? swear she’s better than me.”

“she’s the best. i don’t know how i got so lucky to love someone like her.”

boyfriend!soonyoung who loves using not only words of affirmation, he loves his quality time with you, he loves feeling your touch all the time, and he’s the best at acts of service.

“i love you baby. i’ll never get tired of telling you how amazing you are. i’m so happy we got to exist in the same universe timeline, like—” *him rambling and getting distracted by the theories about different universe timelines*

*him always planning the most thought out dates — full day itinerary; at the zoo, pottery dates, etc. but he loves spending his down time with you too — sitting at home, putting on animal print face masks together, doing feet baths together.*

he always needs to hold your hand — doesn’t want to lose you in the crowd (though the crowd on tuesdays at the mall seems to be…bleak). hugs with him lasts at least 10 minutes at a time, and naps with him end up with him hugging you like a koala bear on a tree.

hungry at 2am? he’s at your door within 15 with your favourite late night snack. on your period? he’s got a full care pack covered. late for class? he’s already sitting in your lecture hall; attendance marked for you, taking down notes for you.

nsfw version here!

boyfriend!soonyoung who found out he had a thing for exhibitionism one night while the both of you were practicing late in the dance studio.

you were practicing your moves, concentration at a 100% while looking at yourself in the mirror. and he couldn’t help but feel a little turned out by how hard you were dancing. sweaty, flushed and so so pretty.

the song switches — and you snap your head towards soonyoung. he walks towards you in beat with the sensual song, before wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“follow my guide baby,” he sways, holding onto you so tight. he traces your arms, interlocking both hands with you — flowing with the music while his eyes never left yours in the mirror.

“you’re so sexy baby. love the way you move,” he breathes down your neck, eyes shutting for less than a second before he focuses on you again.

you hum, hips moving against his crotch as you feel yourself get heated up as the song progresses. “learned it all from you baby,” your giggle snaps him out of his deep reverie.

“getting bold now are we?”

boyfriend!soonyoung loves how you’re always down to explore new boundaries with him. he knows the deep trust goes both ways, and he’s grateful.

boyfriend!soonyoung loves when you get all needy for him. it’s usually him being all clingy and like a baby when it comes to you. you’re his safe space. so when he sees you being all wide eyed and desperate for him — it turns him on to no end.

he’s a menace. when it comes to fucking you, he’s double the menace. gets off on you being his needy little angel. no one would ever guess what goes on behind closed doors when it comes to him.

he’s edged you for the past 30 minutes, your juices tainting the dance floor that’s only seen blood sweat and tears of the dancers. his smile is sinister, is relishing in the fact that he’s holding the key to your heaven gates at the moment.

loves to have you in front of him sitting right in front of the mirror. the big and wide mirror capturing the indecent act. your legs wide open for him as his fingers alternate between rubbing messily and harshly on your clit, and plunging deep into your his cunt.

wants you to come undone on his fingers and torture alone.

but he’s selfish, only wants to achieve what he’d set to do so earlier. and it’s for you to cum on his cock. he sits on the floor with his pretty cock out in the open, and has you in the same position, except now you’re sitting on his cock — deep inside you. all still facing the mirror where his gaze is locked on every move you make.

“that’s it baby, ride my cock like you fucking mean it yeah?”

“training you to have strong legs baby, you need them to continue to dance amazingly right?”

you cry out at the overstimulation, you want nothing but to cum. every hit his cock makes chokes you and you don’t recognise the girl in the mirror anymore — so wrecked on your boyfriend’s cock.

“tell me what you need pretty girl,” soonyoung teases as he leans back on his hands, enjoying the view in the mirror, hiding how fucked out he feels. how he is so close to cumming right inside of you this very moment. but he’s holding back. he’s got better control than that anyways.

“need to—need to cum nowww soonie, please baby,” tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you continue to ride him, pace faltering as you feel your legs getting tired.

“if you can cum like that, be my guest baby. cum.” he shrugs, and you notice the glint in his devilish gaze through the mirror. you groan, legs giving out on you and you resort to grinding slowly.

“need you to—need you to help me,” you pout, if acting cute won’t get you what you want, you don’t know what else to try.

“baby needs my help? can’t cum on her own? aw baby.” he pouts back at you, and you want so badly to snap at him at his tone but you know better than to do so.

“on your knees, face the mirror. won’t tell you twice.” and all energy resurfaces as you scurry to go on all fours, looking at how desperate you appear through the mirror — your reflection mocking you.

soonyoung grunts in approval. slides his cock right back into you, and thanks the heavens for you. for being able to take you like this. swears you look like an angel even being so fucked out on the dance floor, back being blown out.

“so fucking pretty like this baby, how do you always look so fucking beautiful,” he snaps his hips so deep into you with a certain tempo, and you feel like you’re ascending to heaven each time he fucks his cock into you.

his fingers reach forward to smack your puffy clit, using the tip of his fingers to rub messily, finally deciding to let his angel cum.

“c-can’t—gonna cum—i’m gonna cum gonna cum” you cry out with a hoarse throat with actual tears running down your flushed cheeks this time. your hands reach back to grab onto his biceps, nails plunging in, and it drives him crazy.

“you can cum baby, cum on your fucking cock—cream it baby let me feel you—” you clench around him so tight he lets out a string of ‘fucks’. you fall forward, face flat — cheeks pressed on the dance floor, letting your body do the job of releasing the past hour of edging. all tension let loose, you moan out his name so beautifully as you cream and choke his cock with your cunt.

“fuck fuck fuck baby, gonna cum too. gonna cum inside you pretty, fuuuuuck—” his grip on your hips tighten as he releases his creamy load inside of you. airy moans leaving his chest as he lets his cock paint your cunt as his.

he slows down his thrusts, letting the mixture of your releases mix together slowly. you both slowly relish in the moment of your bodies connecting, feeling nothing but love left.

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s always taking care of you — including after care! loves praising you non stop, leaving trails of kisses everywhere. post-nut clarity hits differently for him — where he always tells himself that he wants to be yours forever.

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s not only the best boyfriend, the best lover but also your best friend and the one person you’re most thankful for in the world ! <3

a/n: haha…was in a hoshi mood…<3 GAH. i hope u guys liked it ! typed this all in one go while thinking abt hoshi n him being the bestest boy ever.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes — identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still), But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left one gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if the days became difficult and the nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and just fell asleep in the kitchen."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, darling. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound was endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. You laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so that she can go to a good college.”

Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new little ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it was still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

[redroomreflections]

Something With Sea Turtles

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family Of Her Own AU

(Natasha has a secret family)

Summary: Pregnant R and Natasha loves on her.

Natasha is good at many things. Intimidating bad guys, disappearing without a trace, dismantling a firearm in seconds. Painting walls? Well, that’s a skill she’s still figuring out.

She had insisted on painting the nursery walls for the arrival of your little one in a few months. It was supposed to be a nice bonding experience. But, as with most things involving the two of you, it had quickly turned into a bit of a disaster.

"You said this would be easy," You teased from your spot on the floor, perched on a pile of cushions Natasha had painstakingly arranged for your comfort. Your hand rested on your growing belly as you watched her, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Natasha stood on a step stool, paint roller in hand, squinting at the wall. She was trying her best to create a soft, underwater gradient—blues and greens swirling together like an aquarium, the perfect theme for your baby’s nursery. But the brush strokes were uneven, and there was a smudge where she got a little overzealous with the darker blue.

"It is easy," she replied, her tone stubborn. "I’m just… experimenting with technique."

"Right," You muttered to yourself. "We could just hire someone."

"No!" She exclaimed, then, more gently: "No. I want to do this."

And, honestly, she did. The baby wasn't a shock by any means. Natasha had been dreaming about this day since the first time she fell in love with you. She had planned every detail down to the color of the paint, but when it came time to do the actual painting, she wanted nothing more than to do it herself.

"I know, but we don't even know if our baby will like water or animals..." You reached into your lap to open a bag of chips. "What if they hate all this ocean stuff?"

"If our baby hates all of this ocean stuff, then we'll just paint over it," Natasha lowered her paintbrush to glance back at you. "When did you become such a pessimist?"

"It's called being realistic."

Natasha huffed and dipped the roller in the pan, then continued her work.

"You're supposed to be relaxing."

"I can't relax when I have paint splattered all over my clothes," You gestured to the splotches of green and blue across your sweatshirt. "I'll never get these stains out."

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled softly.

"Well, if you remove your clothes, I promise I'll be gentle."

"You're a dork," You chuckled. "And I'm not stripping in front of the baby."

"The baby's not even born yet."

"Still."

"Fine, then how about I strip for you," Natasha wiggled her hips and hummed playfully. "How's that for relaxation?"

"Tempting, but maybe you should finish the wall before we do anything else," You said. You looked down at the sweater to tug it over your belly. It seemed a bit tight these days. "Do you think I'm getting too big for this?"

"Your shirt?"

"Yeah, I mean... I feel like my stomach is stretching the fabric."

"Hmmm," Natasha mused. "Well, I'd say it looks pretty good."

"Good?"

"Perfect," She smiled to herself. "Absolutely perfect."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Of course."

"You're not lying to me right?" You tilted your head.

"When have I ever lied to you, Y/n?"

"A bunch of times actually," You raised a brow. "I was your superior."

"That doesn't count. Besides, it's my job."

"Your job is to tell me the truth," You sighed. "Do my boobs look too huge?"

"What? No!" She turned on the stool, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"But I've grown a size," You frowned, running a hand over your breasts. "You should be telling me to cover up."

"Are you crazy?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Y/n, you're carrying our child; I think you're allowed to dress comfortably. Also, I'm not complaining about your breast size."

"Yeah, but—"

"Listen," She set the paint roller down and stepped off the stool, "You're beautiful. Okay? And your tits are a part of that. You know, they're like an extra gift from the universe."

"Extra gift?"

"Like I'm already grateful for our baby," She said. "But then, your boobs get bigger, and, you know, I'm a very appreciative person."

"You won't be able to touch them for a while," You reminded her.

"I'm willing to wait."

"And I'm going to have stretch marks."

"So?"

"And my stomach will look weird and puffy," You sighed. "I mean, it's not going to go away."

"I don't care," she said. "Y/n, none of that matters. You're giving us a baby."

You were about to make a joke about how much it would probably hurt to push something the size of a melon out of your vagina, but when you saw the look in her eyes, your smile faded. She was so earnest, and suddenly, you felt guilty for not appreciating everything she was saying.

"Sorry," You said.

"For what?"

"Not listening to you," You shrugged.

"Don't apologize," Natasha walked toward you, then knelt beside your spot on the pillows. "I get it. There are days when I feel like I'm losing my mind. But, no matter what, you'll always be my favorite thing to look at."

"Nat," You grinned.

"Seriously," She smiled back. "And I'm gonna tell you that every single day until the end of time."

"Well, you'll be busy painting."

"Then, I'll paint it on the wall," She winked.

"God, I love you," You murmured, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Love you too," She replied, her breath warm against your lips. "Both of you."

"Now, go back to painting before you ruin it." You gestured. "I can kind of see the vision for the whale."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. I'm making art."

"Do you mind taking a breath to come rub this on my belly?" You gestured to the container of cocoa butter next to you.

"Of course," Natasha grabbed the tube, and unscrewed the cap. Then, she squeezed a generous amount onto her palm and set the bottle aside.

"You know," She began, "what you said earlier. I hope you don't believe that about yourself. That I won't find you attractive."

"No, I don't, not really," You shrugged. "It's just hard sometimes. My brain goes all crazy and my hormones are making me all weepy. But, I have you. And, you're not going anywhere, right?"

"Of course not."

"Good," You murmured. "'Cause I don't think I'd last long without you."

"Don't say that," She said, her voice quiet.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," She scolded. "You'll be fine. I'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Now, can we focus on the positive? Like, for example, the fact that you're pregnant."

"I am pregnant."

"You are." She rested her hands on your belly. She began to rub the cocoa butter in circular motions against your skin. "You look so good like this."

"Really?"

"Yeah," She smiled, looking down at her hands pressing against the curve of your abdomen. She was so gentle with the bump. "This is exactly what I always imagined."

"What did you imagine?"

"A cute wife who was carrying my child," She smirked. "I guess I've always had a fantasy about having a family of my own."

"Well, you're living the dream." You grinned at her. For a second there wasn't much talking until you felt a slight movement inside of you. "She's awake."

"Really?" Natasha looked down.

"Yeah," You said. "Can you feel her?"

"Um, well," Natasha hesitated. "I mean, not really."

"Here," You reached down and took her hand, guiding it a bit further up your belly. "There. Do you feel that?"

"I—" Natasha paused, and then, she felt it, a faint movement against her hand. "Yeah?"

"Whenever you're near she gets to moving," You point out. "I think she recognizes your voice already."

A soft, surprised laugh escaped Natasha’s lips as she watched her hand rest against your belly, her expression melting into something softer than usual. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she let it linger, her thumb tracing circles on your skin.

"I think she’s already got me wrapped around her finger," she murmured, her voice full of affection and wonder. "Just like her mother."

"That's how it starts."

"Oh, is that a warning?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She leaned forward to kiss your belly. Then, she rested her cheek against your skin. "I couldn't be any happier than in this moment."

"That's good," You brushed her hair from her forehead, stroking her scalp gently. "But, just so you know, when I'm back on my feet, I'm kicking your ass for making me paint a sea turtle."

"Hey," she said, her tone playful. "You're the one who agreed to help."

"I regret everything."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Given we have finally gotten news regarding the anime what do you think about it being an adaptation of the manga?

I have some mixed opinions since we'll be seeing the same story for the 4th time at this point (game/manga/novel/anime) but there does appear to be some differences with each especially with each unique Yuu. I do think the OBs and fight choreography is best animated over a slice of life show.

I'm not expecting any major changes from the manga if any at all but I'm happy to see it animated at all. I do hope it is successful so that the other books get animated. I feel like we are in a purgatory of early TWST with how often we go back to the earlier books in different mediums.

[Referencing this news!]

Gonna be honest with you, I’m kinda numb to getting yet another adaptation of the main story (a story that, mind you, we've already heard ad nauseum). At this point, it really does feel like a never-ending purgatory or time loop where we are forced to relive Heartslabyul over and over and over 😅 Of course, I'm still looking forward to seeing the anime and watching some of the more complicated scenes play out (fights, flashback sequences, playing magift/spelldrive, etc.). However, I think I would have preferred something new...? For example, vignettes, the event stories, etc.

The anime being an adaptation of the manga is... fine? But that means the anime may also have the same issues that I have with the manga. Those would be:

We will never really be able to fully bond with or know Yuu on a deeper level since Yuu is constantly changing between books/seasons. We won't get to see how the Yuu of Heartslabyul interacts with characters in later books, we won't get to see how the Yuu of Octavinelle handled the Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw conflicts, etc. We won't see any of them grow or change as a result of interacting with the NRC cast. This sucks particularly because if you really love a particular Yuu, you know they won’t be sticking around.

Despite the Yuus being designed as foils for the OB boys of each respective arc, no special meaningful interactions come out of it. The reader/viewer is just left to draw the parallels but there is never a moment where Yuu and the OB boy reconcile about their similarities/differences, which would actually justify the frequent changing of the POV character.

Barely any alterations are made from the game's story, since the manga isn't allowed to deviate in significant ways. No matter how different the Yuu is, they cannot ever make a decision or even have dialogue that would actually change the story in interesting ways.

General time constraints (manga arcs are 20 chapters, seasons have a limited number of episodes).

Limited showing/screen time of some characters. Because the adaptation will be of the main story, some characters that make very bad first impressions (hi, book 2 Leona… hi, Sebek without the vignettes…) will maintain those bad first impressions and won’t have a chance to redeem themselves simply because the bonus content (vignettes, event stories, etc.) aren’t adapted. Other characters won’t get as much focus simply because they aren’t the OB boys. The former would mainly be a concern for anime/manga-only fans.

Most of my disappointment comes not from reliving the same story, but that we are reliving the same story with minimal changes. I would enjoy adaptations more if they actually played around with the source material and explored new avenues! It feels like a missed opportunity, you know??

As I said earlier in this post, this is NOT meant to be overly negative; this is healthy skepticism. I'd describe myself as still excited, but not as excited as I would be if the anime were about something else set in the Twst world. Hope that makes sense 🙏

I would also caution readers to take my concerns with a grain of salt; for all we know, maybe the anime will add new scenes or fix some of the issues I pointed out. We should wait until the anime is out to judge its content and quality for ourselves.

On a positive note though 🤡 M-Maybe we will see. Shirtless L*ona animated… because… y’know… Episode of Savanaclaw technically canonized it… HAHAHAh JK… unless…? 🥺 👉👈

[urdreamydoodles]

hi! It's my first time making a request for the X-men fandom I've been reading some of your headcanons and I have like them a lot Could you make some X-men HCs with their non-mutant partner (the reader) getting kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization? (for all of the characters?) a mix of both angst and fluff

X-Men x Non-Mutant!Reader

You get kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson, Rogue & Wanda Maximoff

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- When Logan finds out you’ve been kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization, he goes into an immediate rage. His animal instincts take over as he tracks down the people responsible. There's nothing in the world he wouldn’t do to get you back safely, and the X-Men know better than to stand in his way when he’s like this.

- Every second you’re gone eats at him. He can’t sleep or even think straight, pushing himself to the limit. He keeps replaying moments with you in his mind, from the way you always reach for his hand in public to the laughter you share at quiet dinners. It’s a constant reminder of how much he stands to lose.

- When he finally finds where you’re being held, Logan’s unrelenting. He tears through guards and security, claws flashing, with only one thing on his mind: getting to you. No matter the odds, he’s unstoppable, determined to leave a trail of destruction in his wake until he has you safe in his arms again.

- The moment he sees you, injured but alive, he’s by your side instantly, gently pulling you close, despite the blood and rage coursing through him. Logan’s touch is careful, almost tender, as if afraid of hurting you further. For a moment, he lets himself feel relieved, breathing you in to remind himself you’re real and alive.

- In the aftermath, Logan can’t leave your side. He stays close, his hand always on you in some way, whether he’s holding yours or resting a protective arm around your shoulders. His eyes are intense, watching over you with a fierce protectiveness that only eases slightly as he feels you start to recover.

- Once you’re safe and back at the mansion, Logan’s softer side starts to show through. He cooks you meals, often in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, his silent way of caring for you. There’s a gentleness to him that surprises even him, and he realizes just how deeply he cares about you.

- Logan blames himself, though he doesn’t say it out loud. He’s never been good at keeping the people he loves safe, and he worries about putting you in danger just by being with you. But when you reach for his hand and tell him you wouldn’t have it any other way, he can’t help but hold on tightly, grateful to have you in his life.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy’s heart practically stops when he finds out you’ve been taken. His mind races, and for a moment, he struggles to keep his calm, charming façade. The usually smooth-talking Gambit is left speechless, but his eyes harden with determination. He knows he’ll stop at nothing to bring you back.

- Throughout the mission, Remy is uncharacteristically quiet, his playful attitude replaced with a laser focus. His mind is entirely on you, and he blames himself for not protecting you better. In his heart, he’s already planning all the ways he’ll make it up to you once you’re safe.

- When he finally reaches you, his relief is palpable. He immediately reaches for you, running his hands over you to check for injuries, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. His voice shakes slightly as he promises he’ll get you out of there, his usually confident tone softened by the intensity of his emotions.

- Remy is incredibly gentle as he helps you back, supporting you every step of the way. He keeps glancing over at you, his eyes full of worry and guilt. He keeps telling you he’s sorry, though you reassure him that none of this is his fault. But Remy, ever the charmer, makes it his mission to make up for this, showering you with affection at every turn.

- Once back home, Remy dotes on you constantly. He brings you your favorite foods, even sneaking into the kitchen late at night to make you Cajun dishes his family taught him, hoping the taste will bring you comfort. His touches are gentle, hands lingering on you as if grounding himself through the feel of your skin.

- Remy won’t leave your side, and he’ll often stay up all night, making sure you’re okay. He’s vigilant, watching over you with a protective gaze. He even pulls out his deck of cards, showing off little magic tricks to make you smile, doing anything he can to help you forget the ordeal.

- The whole experience leaves Remy feeling even more attached to you. He confesses that you mean more to him than he can put into words, his usual bravado softened. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours as he murmurs how grateful he is to have you back, promising to never let anyone take you from him again.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s heart sinks when he hears the news. Fear isn’t something he’s accustomed to feeling, but the thought of you in danger fills him with a dread he can’t shake. He clings to his faith, praying silently as he prepares to go to whatever lengths necessary to bring you back safely.

- As he tracks down your location, Kurt can’t help but feel guilty. He worries that by being with him, he’s put you in harm’s way. But with every prayer he whispers, he also promises to do whatever it takes to get you back, even if it means facing his deepest fears.

- When he finally sees you, his relief is overwhelming. In an instant, he’s teleporting to your side, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Kurt’s hands shake slightly as he holds you, his usually calm demeanor slipping as he whispers reassurances, his accent thick with emotion as he promises to take you away from this place.

- Kurt is incredibly gentle as he helps you, teleporting you away in small increments to avoid straining himself too much. Each time he holds you close, he’s filled with gratitude that you’re still alive. He kisses your forehead softly, holding you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

- Once you’re back at the mansion, Kurt doesn’t stray far from your side. He stays up with you at night, sitting by your bedside and holding your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles as he quietly hums soothing lullabies, hoping to comfort you as you rest.

- Kurt is more affectionate than usual, often hugging you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear again. He’ll sit with you in the quiet of the mansion chapel, where he finds peace, hoping that his faith might offer you some comfort as well. He whispers promises to keep you safe, speaking softly into the stillness.

- This ordeal deepens Kurt’s love for you, and he makes it clear how much you mean to him. He’ll often cup your face in his hands, looking into your eyes with a gaze full of warmth and adoration. He thanks you for your bravery and your resilience, assuring you that he’ll always be there to protect you, no matter the cost.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- When Scott learns that you, his non-mutant partner, have been kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization, it’s like the ground disappears beneath him. The composed leader the X-Men look up to feels his own world shattering. He struggles to focus, feeling a heavy weight of guilt, wondering if your association with him made you a target.

- From the moment he’s aware of your capture, Scott dedicates himself to getting you back. He spends hours researching the organization, analyzing their tactics, and coordinating with the team. Every plan he makes is meticulous, fueled by his desperation to have you back in his arms. His love for you drives him, pushing aside any other mission or priority.

- When he finally infiltrates the compound where you’re being held, Scott is relentless. His normally strategic, controlled demeanor is edged with raw emotion as he navigates through, using his optic blasts without hesitation. As he gets closer, he can feel his restraint slipping, each blast growing stronger, propelled by his anger and fear.

- The moment he sees you, bruised but alive, Scott feels a rush of relief mixed with overwhelming guilt. He gathers you into his arms, holding you so tightly, afraid to let go. His voice cracks slightly as he apologizes, promising over and over that he’ll make sure you’re safe from now on, his hand never leaving yours as he leads you out.

- Back at the mansion, Scott becomes the ultimate caregiver, doing everything in his power to help you recover. He stays close, bringing you water, your favorite snacks, and even some books he thinks might distract you. Scott finds comfort in taking care of you; it’s his way of showing how much he loves you, though he’s hesitant to say it outright.

- Scott can’t shake the guilt, though, and you notice him working even longer hours, studying tactics to prevent anything like this from happening again. He’s distant, and you have to remind him that none of this was his fault. He eventually opens up, admitting his fears of failing to protect you, and you reassure him, letting him know that you feel safe with him.

- Despite the angst, Scott finds a deeper appreciation for your presence. He tells you more frequently now how much you mean to him, his normally composed demeanor softening every time he’s with you. There’s a tenderness in the way he reaches for your hand or lingers in a kiss, grateful every day that you’re still here with him.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- When Erik discovers you’ve been captured by an anti-mutant organization, he feels a rage he hasn’t known in years. His anger is ferocious, laced with an icy resolve. To him, this is personal; he’s already seen the damage that prejudice can cause, and now it’s directly affected someone he loves.

- Determined to bring you back, Erik moves swiftly and decisively. He doesn’t hesitate to use every resource at his disposal, mobilizing his network and even enlisting some of the more ruthless members of the Brotherhood. He’s willing to cross any line to ensure your safety, and nothing will stand in his way.

- When Erik finally reaches the facility where you’re being held, he’s a force of nature. The metal in the walls bends and twists at his command, his powers fueled by an unrelenting determination. His rage is terrifying, and even the guards tremble as he storms through, focused entirely on finding you.

- When he sees you, injured but alive, Erik’s hardened expression softens in an instant. He holds you carefully, as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. In that moment, his fury fades, replaced by relief and a fierce protectiveness. He gently cups your face, promising that you’ll never be put in harm’s way again.

- Erik doesn’t let you out of his sight afterward. Back at his base, he’s uncharacteristically attentive, bringing you blankets and encouraging you to rest. He’s not one for excessive words, but his actions speak volumes, and you feel his care in the way he tends to you, his usually steely demeanor softened.

- As the days go by, Erik’s protective nature only grows stronger. He becomes even more vigilant, determined to prevent anything like this from happening again. He checks in with you frequently, offering you quiet moments together where he lets his guard down, allowing you to see the softer side he shows to few.

- This ordeal brings Erik closer to you than ever before. He openly admits his love for you, something he doesn’t take lightly. When he holds you, there’s a sense of finality, as though he’s decided that you’re his, and he’ll do anything to protect you. There’s a renewed tenderness in his gaze, and his touch lingers a little longer, a reminder of just how much you mean to him.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- When Jean learns that you’ve been kidnapped, she’s shaken to her core. Despite her powers, she feels helpless, unable to sense you through the mental blocks the anti-mutant group has put up. Her fear and frustration build, and she can’t help but blame herself, wondering if she could’ve somehow prevented this.

- From the moment she hears of your capture, Jean is relentless in her efforts to find you. She spends hours meditating, trying to extend her telepathic reach, even risking pushing herself to her limits. Her determination is unwavering; you’re her world, and she’s not going to let anyone take you from her.

- When Jean finally breaks through the barriers shielding you, she immediately teleports to the location with the team, her powers radiating a barely contained fury. She moves through the building with a fierce grace, using her telekinesis to shield and protect while dismantling any threat in her way.

- The moment she reaches you, she rushes to your side, a look of pure relief on her face. She cups your cheeks, her hands trembling slightly as she checks you over, her eyes brimming with tears. In that instant, Jean’s fierce façade slips, replaced by an overwhelming tenderness as she pulls you into a tight embrace, whispering how grateful she is to have you back.

- Back at the mansion, Jean takes care of you with a level of attentiveness that leaves no room for protest. She insists on making sure you’re comfortable, her gentle voice and calming presence reassuring you that you’re safe now. She’s almost overly protective, always close by, as if afraid you might disappear again.

- Jean opens up to you about her fears, admitting how deeply the experience affected her. She confesses that she’d been terrified of losing you, and her vulnerability brings the two of you closer than ever. She holds your hand often, her telepathic touch conveying the depths of her love for you, making sure you feel her presence even when words aren’t enough.

- In the days that follow, Jean’s love for you becomes even more evident. She’s more affectionate, often resting her head on your shoulder or pulling you close in quiet moments. Her telepathy allows her to sense even the smallest flicker of discomfort or fear, and she’s there to soothe you instantly, determined to protect you and keep you safe, no matter what.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- When Wade finds out you’ve been kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization, his usual joking manner disappears in an instant. A new side of Wade emerges—cold, calculating, and singularly focused. He’s furious at the idea of anyone hurting you, and his rage is far more intense than even he expected.

- Wade wastes no time in tracking down every possible lead. He calls in favors, shakes down every contact he has, and leaves no stone unturned. His sarcastic quips turn into harsh threats, and he’s fully prepared to leave a trail of destruction to get to you. Even his friends are wary of him in this state, but Wade doesn’t care. All he cares about is bringing you back safely.

- When he finally finds the facility where you’re held, Wade becomes unstoppable. Guns, swords, explosives—he uses everything he’s got, tearing through the compound with deadly efficiency. His mind is filled with thoughts of you, his adrenaline heightened by worry and anger. This time, he’s not holding back.

- The moment Wade reaches you, his facade cracks. He rushes to your side, cradling you in his arms, his heart racing as he checks you over for injuries. You can tell he’s trying to joke to ease the tension, but his voice shakes slightly. He gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, muttering something about how you “better not leave him again” because he’d miss you too much.

- Back at home, Wade becomes surprisingly tender, even clingy. He makes it his mission to cheer you up and get you to laugh, pulling out every ridiculous antic he can think of. He’ll make you pancakes with your initials in chocolate chips, bring you random stuffed animals, and tell you exaggerated stories just to see you smile.

- Wade is incredibly attentive and protective now, always checking in on you and staying close by. He even starts sleeping next to you more often, “just in case,” though he tries to play it off with his usual sarcasm. You know he’s shaken up by the ordeal, and you catch him watching you with a rare, serious intensity when he thinks you’re not looking.

- The experience strengthens Wade’s love for you, and he becomes more open about his feelings. He might joke and tease, but his words carry a deeper meaning now. He’ll hold your hand, bring you flowers with a smirk, and even tell you how much you mean to him in quiet moments, all while hoping you’ll never have to go through something like that again.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- When Rogue learns that you, her non-mutant partner, have been captured by an anti-mutant organization, her heart drops. The normally confident, spirited Rogue is shaken, feeling an overwhelming sense of fear and helplessness. She’s ready to fight, but there’s a part of her that’s terrified at the thought of losing you.

- Rogue wastes no time rallying the team. She pushes herself to her limits, determined to rescue you no matter what it takes. Her usually warm smile disappears, replaced by a fierce determination. Every punch, every fight is fueled by her love for you and her desire to bring you home.

- The moment Rogue finds you, she rushes to your side, her gloved hands reaching out gently. She desperately wants to hold you but hesitates, afraid of hurting you with her powers. Instead, she brushes her fingers lightly against yours, whispering that she’s there for you, relief flooding her voice.

- Once you’re safe back home, Rogue becomes incredibly caring and protective. She’s constantly checking in, making sure you have everything you need. She hates the thought of you ever feeling vulnerable again and becomes fiercely protective, standing by your side whenever she can.

- She can’t help but feel guilty, wondering if your association with her put you in harm’s way. You have to remind her that none of this was her fault, reassuring her with soft words and gentle touches. She’ll rest her head on your shoulder, finding comfort in your presence as you both begin to heal.

- Rogue is extra affectionate now, even though she has to be careful about touching you. She finds little ways to show her love, like slipping a note into your pocket, baking your favorite treats, or leaving small gifts for you to find. Every gesture is her way of reminding you how much she cares, even if she can’t express it physically as much as she’d like.

- The experience deepens Rogue’s love and appreciation for you, and she opens up in a way she hasn’t before. She’ll share stories, her fears, and her dreams, letting you into her heart like never before. You can see the warmth in her eyes whenever she looks at you, her love for you more visible and cherished than ever.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When Wanda finds out you’ve been taken by an anti-mutant organization, her initial shock quickly turns to fury. She’s not just upset—she’s ready to unleash every ounce of her power to find you. The fear of losing you makes her powers flare, and she’s determined to get you back, no matter the cost.

- Wanda wastes no time, delving into every magical and practical means she can to locate you. She consults with anyone who might have information, even bending reality itself to catch a glimpse of where you are. Her determination is fierce, and she’s willing to go to any length to save you.

- When Wanda finally locates you, her heart races with relief and worry. She teleports into the facility, her powers swirling around her as she dispatches guards with ease. She’s entirely focused on you, a wave of protective magic enveloping you the second she finds you. She pulls you close, whispering words of comfort, her voice gentle but filled with emotion.

- Back home, Wanda is incredibly attentive, constantly watching over you to make sure you’re safe. She’s softer, quieter, and her worry is clear in the way she keeps checking in. She brews you herbal teas, makes sure you’re comfortable, and fills the space with calming spells to help ease any lingering anxiety.

- Wanda can’t help but feel a pang of guilt, wondering if her powers or status as an Avenger put you at risk. She opens up to you about these feelings, letting you know how deeply she cares and how much she blames herself. You reassure her, letting her know that none of this was her fault and that you feel safe with her.

- She becomes more open about her feelings, often sharing her thoughts, fears, and dreams with you in a way she hasn’t before. Wanda shows her love through little gestures—leaving enchanted flowers by your bedside, lighting up rooms with soft, warm lights, and casting protective wards around you. Her presence becomes a comforting constant, reminding you of how much you mean to her.

- The experience brings you closer, and Wanda becomes even more affectionate, lingering in hugs and holding your hand whenever she can. Her love for you shines brightly, her protective side now stronger than ever. She cherishes every moment with you, thankful that she still has you by her side and determined to protect you at all costs.

[cuubism]

now, this one got REAL. unfortunately. do you want some angst (+hurt/comfort +fluff)

cw burnout, depression, animal death

--

It started when Jessamy died.

Or.

Well.

Hob is pretty sure it started when Dream was a teenager, if not even earlier. But it comes to a head nearly fifteen years later, when Hob comes home from work and finds Dream sitting on the floor by the couch, Jessamy held in his arms. She is still. And Dream is equally still, equally numb, staring off into space.

Hob knew it was coming someday soon. Dream had had Jessamy since he was twelve, when he’d found her as a kitten by the side of the road and somehow convinced his parents to let him keep her, so she was not a young cat, and while her health had generally been good she’d been increasingly tired and wobbly lately. And cats didn’t live forever.

She looks peaceful, there in Dream’s arms. It isn’t a bad death for a cat, Hob thinks, to curl up in a patch of sunlight on the couch and just not wake up again. Not that that will make Dream feel much better.

Hob sits down beside Dream on the floor. Doesn’t say anything, but lays his hand on Dream’s knee. Dream just keeps staring off into the distance, one hand lightly stroking Jessamy’s fur.

“She didn’t come to greet me,” he says, eventually, when they’ve been sat there for some time. “She always comes to the door.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Hob says.

Dream sits there for a long time, just holding her. Later Hob helps him bury her in the garden, then Dream goes upstairs and buries himself under the blankets in their bed and doesn’t come back out for the rest of the night.

Later Hob will think, that was the first domino to fall. Even later, he will realize it wasn’t the first, but the last.

~

Dream was often seen as stoic. Unemotional. Hob thought so too, when he’d first met him. But he’d quickly come to learn that the real Dream was extremely sensitive and had simply learned to keep all of that inside and present a functional front to the world. And Dream was, indeed, exceedingly functional. Not just functional, Dream was brilliant. He’d graduated top of his college, and he’d gone to Oxford, and then he’d launched a tech company, and even published a novel on the side simply because he enjoyed doing it. When it came to standard metrics of success, Dream was one of the most functional and successful people Hob had ever met.

And Dream was crashing.

~

Hob comes home from work a bit late one day to find Dream slumped on the couch, face pressed into a pillow. The TV is on, but he doesn’t seem to be watching it. There’s a book on the table beside him, but he isn’t reading. He’s just lying there. Listlessly.

“You alright, love?” Hob asks, and Dream just shrugs one shoulder under his blanket.

“I fell asleep on the couch in my office,” he says, “so I came home.”

This immediately rings Hob’s alarm bells because Dream doesn’t do that. He doesn’t come home early from work. He barely takes a lunch break.

“Feeling ill?” Hob asks, perching on the couch beside him.

Dream shrugs again.

“Want some dinner?”

“I suppose.”

He’s barely looked at Hob. He’s not even budged from his sprawl on the couch. But when Hob gets up to get dinner, Dream reaches out, snags a hand in his sleeve, squeezes once and lets go.

Hob leans down to kiss his forehead, and Dream sighs.

Hob brings dinner back to the living room a half hour later, and Dream sits up with him and eats but barely says a word. He listens as Hob talks about his own day but barely contributes beyond brief answers to Hob’s questions.

After dinner he lies down with his head in Hob’s lap and goes quiet again. Hob is starting to get worried, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt. It could just be an off day.

Dream falls asleep in Hob’s lap, and then later gets up and goes to bed at barely 9pm despite how he’s normally a night owl.

“Dream?” Hob says, before Dream retreats to their bedroom. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am just tired,” Dream says.

Then he sleeps for ten hours and wakes barely early enough to get to his office on time. And doesn’t seem particularly concerned about it. Then again, Dream does own the company, and can hardly fire himself for being late. But he’s normally much more particular about it.

Then it’s an off two days. Then it’s an off week. Then it’s an off two weeks.

Hob comes home from work and, instead of finding Dream back on his laptop doing more work, or working on his novel, he’s just lying in bed with the covers over his head. Earbuds in, listening to music or an audiobook. I’m tired, he says when Hob asks. I don’t feel well.

Do you want to work on your novel? Hob asks. Usually cheers you up.

Dream’s novels are an escape from the stresses of his other work. He’d published the first one under a pen name so it would have no connection to his company or anything else about him. He’d been so proud when it hit the bestseller list.

No, Dream says. I don’t care. It’s meaningless.

Worry is starting to sit heavier and heavier in Hob’s chest.

Hob’s known for almost as long as he’s known Dream that Dream struggles with a latent, underlying level of depression, but it’s been well managed thus far and he’d thought Dream had found an equilibrium with it.

Apparently it was a much more fragile equilibrium than he’d realized, because now everything seems to have tipped and flipped over.

At first he thinks Dream isn’t doing anything about it. But then Hob learns that he is, and that almost feels worse, because now Hob doesn’t know where to even start helping him. Dream has already taken medication for years. He’s recently increased his dose and it’s done nothing. He already sees a therapist. He’s started going twice as often as he did before and still nothing seems improved. He hasn’t pulled away from Hob. He still curls up to him in bed at night, and lays on the couch with his head on Hob’s lap while they watch TV. He lets Hob drag him around doing things he thinks might cheer him, like walks in the park, feeding the pigeons, going to the botanical gardens to look at flowers. If Hob cooks something, he’ll eat, but he makes no effort to eat otherwise.

He goes, he does things, but he isn’t there. He’s checked out, distracted, and his smiles are hollow.

Hob watches him pick up books he would normally love, read one page and then put it down again. Watches him abandon the newspaper crossword puzzles he usually likes to do over breakfast after solving only one or two questions. Watches him get dressed in the morning, putting on his usual all-black attire with a mechanical precision that suggests he’s operating on autopilot and not thinking about it at all. He just doesn’t seem to care about any of it, and Dream normally cares so much about everything that it’s really starting to freak Hob out.

Hob asks him if he’s okay and he says he’s just tired. Hob asks him why and he says he doesn’t know. And the worst part is, Hob believes him. He doesn’t think Dream does know what’s wrong. It’s not just grief for Jessamy that’s doing it. Hob thinks it’s more that Jessamy was a tiny piece of a support structure that was far more meager than either of them realized, and now all the rest of the heaviness has come crashing down. That doesn’t mean Dream has the words for what any of that is, though.

Hob worries about him when he’s at work. He worries about him whenever Dream is out of his sight. He thinks about how relentless and intense Dream usually is and contrasts it with his current listlessness and he worries.

He thinks about Dream graduating university with honors while he built a whole fucking company in his dorm room and wrote the first half of a novel on the side, and he worries.

Dream had always made time for Hob then, too. And he always has since. Or maybe being with Hob was the sanctuary he carved out for himself amidst the whirlwind of all that he was.

Now more often than not Dream comes home and immediately collapses on top of Hob on the couch and doesn’t speak a word for a least two hours. Hob is just glad that, whatever’s going on, he at least isn’t fully isolating himself. He’s still coming to Hob for comfort, in whatever way he knows how.

The next time it happens, Hob messages Lucienne, Dream’s COO. In fact he does it from his phone while Dream is lying on top of him, and Dream doesn’t even notice.

Has Dream been alright at work recently? he writes.

Lucienne responds fairly quickly. She’s a bit of a workaholic, just like Dream. I am not sure he would want me sharing all his business without his knowledge.

Hob sighs. He supposes it’s fair that she’s protective of her boss. Lucienne. Come on. Please. I’m worried about him.

He seems tired lately, she writes, at length. And distracted.

Anything in particular going on?

No, if anything, we are in a bit of a slow down at the moment. There is not as much on our plates.

Odd.

Do take care of him, Hob, Lucienne adds.

Always will, Hob says.

He puts his phone aside, and pets Dream’s hair. Dream hums in pleasure, nuzzling into him. “Sweetheart. You want some dinner?”

“If you desire,” Dream says.

Hob’s not convinced he would eat anything at all if Hob didn’t push him.

“Come on, up, we’ll get something to eat,” Hob says, and Dream groans, but lets Hob maneuver him up, and sits placidly in the kitchen with the cup of water Hob pushes into his hands as Hob cooks. He is so placid, lately, in general. Hob is used to Dream being strong-willed and opinionated. It’s upsetting to see him passive.

All he can do for now, though, is take care of Dream as best he can. As he always does.

~

It hits a breaking point when Dream simply doesn’t go into work at all.

Hob is working from home that day, and doesn’t notice at first that eight o’clock has passed and Dream hasn’t left the house. At around nine he goes to make more coffee and realizes, suddenly, that Dream’s shoes are still by the door, his coat still hanging on its hook. So Hob goes to find him.

He finds Dream still lying in bed, not asleep, just sort of staring blankly at the wall, arms wrapped around himself. Hob lays a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, darling. You getting up for work?”

“No,” Dream says, flatly. “I cannot. I don’t want to.”

So Hob calls Lucienne to let her know Dream’s sick and won’t be coming in. He can hear her concern over the phone. Dream almost never calls in sick. If he gets something contagious, he just works from home instead of resting.

Maybe this is part of the problem. Maybe this is all part of the huge, looming cloud of pain that has apparently been covering Dream like a shroud for longer than Hob’s even known him without Hob ever truly seeing it.

When he puts his phone away and comes back Dream is still lying in the same position. Heart in his throat, Hob climbs into bed to sit beside him. “I told Lucienne you’d be out today,” he says gently. Dream turns over to face him, wrapping his arm around Hob’s thigh to pull close. That gives Hob some hope. That Dream still wants to reach out. “She was worried about you.”

Dream looks up at him solemnly. “And you?”

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time, darling. Talk to me.”

“I meant to go in today,” Dream says. “I have things to do. I suppose. But. I realized that I don’t care about any of it. I tried to remind myself how to care about it. But I could not remember. And so there was no point in getting up.”

“Perhaps you’re a bit stressed about it all,” Hob suggests, but Dream shakes his head.

“I do not feel anything about it at all. I think the company could disappear entirely in this moment and I would feel nothing but this... numbness. I ought to care. But I don’t. It’s meaningless.” He presses his forehead into Hob’s thigh. “I think it ought to scare me. But I don’t feel that either. I don’t feel anything.”

Hob breathes out hard. “Okay. Alright.” He pets Dream’s hair as he thinks. He doesn’t feel very equipped to handle this, but Dream’s regular therapy and meds don’t seem to be doing anything so he’s going to have to try. And if Dream’s regular routine isn’t helping then maybe it’s not his usual depression. Then maybe Hob can work out something to begin to help. “Maybe we need to take you on a very, very long holiday. So you can have a rest.”

Dream lets out a choked laugh, though when he speaks there’s no humor in it. “Hob. I think if I stop moving for that long. I will not get up again. So if you wish to have a functional partner, you may want to withdraw that suggestion.”

Hob feels his heart break in two. “What if I want an alive partner?”

“I am not planning to kill myself.”

“Recently it seems you’re well on your way to it, Dream.”

Dream is silent for a long moment, then says, voice cracking, “I am not trying to—”

“I know, I know, honey,” Hob slides down the bed to rest beside him, pulling Dream into his arms. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Dream cries, pressing his face into Hob’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my love.” They have been together since university. He’s seen Dream go through bouts of depression before. But he’s never seen him like this. Fracturing at the seams. It’s frightening. “I love you so much, do you know?”

“I know.” He squeezes Hob close. “I do know.”

“I don’t care how functional you are,” Hob says, making a clear mockery of the word, and Dream laughs weakly. “I do actually like you, you know. You. Not Mr Great Tech Innovator.”

Dream groans. “Please do not call me a ‘tech innovator’ or I may have to actually kill myself out of shame.”

Hob remembers when Forbes had wanted Dream to be in their thirty under thirty issue and Dream had refused because he thought it was ‘stupid and self-aggrandizing’ and because he ‘didn’t put in years of work for the purpose of being on the cover of an insipid magazine.’ Hob loves this stupid idiot so much.

Dream doesn’t do any of it for fame. Hob doesn’t entirely know why he does it. He think maybe pouring all of himself out is the only thing Dream knows.

“When’s the last time you feel you got an actual break?” Hob asks.

Dream thinks about it. “Year 10,” he says at last. “I spent the summer holiday doing nothing but reading. It was blissful.”

“Dream, that was fifteen years ago."

“After that summer I was always working somehow. Doing advanced class prep work. Then university prep.” He gives Hob a sly sidelong glance, and despite the heavy topic, Hob internally cheers to see a bit of his humor come back. “Needless to say, I was not spending my free time partying when I was in school.”

No, Hob knew that about him. Dream is practically incapable of having fun. Even one of his supposedly stress-relieving outlets, writing, he’s managed to turn into a side career as an author. And Hob knows that, unless one is a verifiable genius, one doesn’t earn the perfect marks Dream had all through school without sacrifice. Hob had gotten good marks, too, but Dream had always been a step above.

And he knows Dream’s parents had always demanded utter perfection. Whether they ever rewarded him for any of it, Hob doesn’t know.

“Hey, darling,” he says. “You’re doing a good job.”

Dream whimpers, pushing his face into Hob’s chest.

“You’re doing enough,” Hob continues. “You’re doing so well. I promise. It’s all okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” Dream says. He clings to Hob, wrapping his arms around him, slipping one leg in between Hob’s thighs. “So much.”

It would be easy to feel insecure around Dream’s level of success, except that Dream’s love for Hob is so obvious. To Hob it is, at least. Dream cares for him so deeply, in his way, and he never acts like he thinks Hob is lesser for not being someone Forbes is pursuing for their lists. If anything, Dream usually discounts his own success, and is, generally speaking, obsessed with Hob and everything Hob does.

This is also a visceral reminder of the costs of this type of success.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he says, rocking Dream in his arms.

“I have been feeling. Somewhat unwell, recently,” Dream admits. “Increasingly so. I suppose I ought to be grateful, in a way, that my mind forced me to shut down before my body did.”

Hob’s not sure he himself feels quite grateful about it, but he is glad Dream at least recognizes the problem.

“We’ve just got to send you to the seaside for your health,” he says.

Dream laughs, genuinely this time. “Truly.”

“Get you a little break. It’ll help, I promise. You’ve just been over-working yourself, hm?”

“I do not think it is my current level of work that is the problem,” Dream says. “I think. I have been running so long. I simply cannot anymore. Effort, itself, is not a problem for a marathon runner. But duration eventually becomes exhausting.”

“I know. It’s okay. Might need a bit longer of a break, is all.”

“I do not know how,” Dream says.

“You let everyone else at work take breaks, don’t you?”

“I used to not,” Dream says. “Not enough of them. Until Lucienne made it quite clear that I was being unfair to them. I was not trying to be. I was simply… used to my own work patterns and did not realize the strain it was putting on them.”

“But you changed it,” Hob says. “You can change it for yourself, too.”

“Perhaps,” Dream says.

“Hire someone who can do some of your tasks and then give yourself a little break. Go somewhere warm and sit on a beach and drink sugary cocktails.”

Dream laughs. “I don’t know if my brain is suited to that.”

“Exactly why you should do it.”

“Will you come with me on this… health retreat by the sea?” Dream asks, some humor back in his voice.

“Course. I’ll take a sabbatical and go with you. But also. Do you think you might want a bit of time to yourself?”

“By myself?” Dream questions. “I do have time to myself. I am already quite solitary.”

“I know. But. Do you think you’d want a bit of extended time to just do what you want to do?” It would hurt, to be away from Dream for an extended period of time. But he wants Dream to have that, that freedom to be completely unburdened, to have no expectations, if it will help him.

“Hmm.” Dream considers. “Perhaps a bit. But I like to be with you.”

“I like to be with you, too, my love. Think about somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. And we’ll go. Or if you just want to rest here, that’s fine, too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” Dream says quietly.

“I want you to be well,” Hob says. “More than anything, I want you to be well.” He kisses Dream’s forehead. “Besides if you don’t think I’m already imagining us on a beach—”

Dream laughs. “I see.”

“Come now, you want to see me shirtless, don’t you?” Hob teases.

“I see you shirtless every day,” Dream says dryly.

“Don’t you want to get extremely drunk and naked and fool around in a luxury villa?”

“What counts as ‘extremely’ naked?” Dream asks. “Taking off my skin?”

“Dream.”

Dream chuckles. “I do. That sounds enjoyable. I would like to leave my laptop at home and perhaps wander around a seaside village, drinking wine until I have killed all of my brain cells.”

“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it,” Hob says.

“Hob,” Dream says, serious again.

“Yeah?”

“What if I take a break,” Dream asks, quietly, “And then I cannot convince myself to go back?”

There’s true grief in his voice, but still Hob counters, “What if you take a break and you feel better?”

Dream smiles, faintly, Hob feels it against his skin. “Always the more positive attitude.”

“One of us has to.”

“But what if,” Dream continues, “I take a break and I learn that I never wanted to do any of it at all?”

This is a stickier question. “Why would you have done any of it, if you didn’t want to? You must have wanted to on some level.”

“I don’t know,” says Dream. “It is just what I’m used to.”

“Maybe you’ll want to again,” Hob says. “Maybe you won’t. Can’t we take it one day at a time?”

Dream lets out a long, aggrieved breath. “You are so nonchalant.”

“Thought that’s one of the reasons you liked me.”

“It is,” Dream says, sounding incredibly frustrated about it. “Yet I do not understand it in the slightest. You truly just… have faith that everything will work out regardless?”

“I have faith we can figure it out,” Hob says. “And that I’ll always have your back. That you’ll never have to work through it alone.”

“You are a wonderful partner,” Dream says. Then, “I would like to go out tonight.”

“You… would?”

Dream nods. “I would like to remember what it was like when we first met. And I feel sorely lacking in romance and I’m well aware it’s my own doing. I know it may not feel the same right now but I want to... try. And. I miss you. Will you take me out on a date?”

Hob is thrilled by this turn. “Of course I will. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can you also tell Lucienne I will be out sick this week and then hide my laptop and phone somewhere I will not find them?”

Hob laughs. “Alright, darling. Get some rest for today, hm? We’ll go out for drinks or something later. I have missed you. I’ve missed seeing you cheery.”

“‘Cheery’ may be pushing it,” Dream says, with a small smile. “However. I would like to have sex tonight.”

Hob bursts out laughing, not at the idea, but at the absolutely flat way Dream says it. He really does have a way about him.

“It’s been too long,” Dream whines.

It has been too long. “Oh, don’t think I’m saying no,” Hob says, and slips a hand up under Dream’s shirt to feel up his back. Dream laughs, snuggling closer to him. It’s so good to hear him laugh.

“Anything you want, anything that will make you happy,” he says. “I love you more than anything.”

Dream leans up to kiss him, long and sweet, then collapses atop him again, as he has nearly every day for weeks. Except this time it doesn’t feel quite so defeated. It feels like it could maybe be rest.

[babe-a-yaga]

What was done to Isseya is one of my personal biggest upsets with this game. I loved her in Last Flight. She's a genuinely interesting, complex character, and given the themes of mistakes and regret present through Veilguard, it makes TOTAL sense for her to make an appearance! What makes no sense at all is for her to be reduced to a two dimensional villain with no clear motivation who's just...doing exactly the thing she fucked up in life? Except worse? I'm gonna summarize the events of last flight for the folks who haven't read it;

The first griffin Isseya put through the joining was already blighted in battle, and dying from it. Quickly. Griffins are extra sensitive to the Blight and any attempts made to join them resulted in the animals going berserk and tearing themselves, and anyone else in range, to pieces to get away from what was now in their veins.

In a well meaning, but misguided effort to save one of the animals she loved, she used blood magic to alter the griffon's mind, to convince it the Blight in it's system was just a regular cold, and it didn't need to fight it, then put it through the joining.

It worked, but it changed the griffon. Made it stronger, fight harder. More difficult to handle. The griffon ultimately went out in a spectacular blaze of glory, and people didn't know what she did, just that she did SOMETHING, and that griffon did ten griffons worth of damage on it's way out.

The fourth blight was far worse, far longer than any of the blights we have witnessed first hand. I think it lasted like 15 years? And it was going badly for Thedas. They ordered Isseya to do what she had done to the first griffon again as a last ditch to stand a chance at I *think* Starkhaven (it's been a little bit since I read last flight, so I'm sketchy on dates and what battles were fought specifically when). She hated doing this, but it was orders, and it was exploit this handful of griffons or watch the world die. She's a warden, she signed up to stop the blight at any cost. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice.

By the time her brother Garahel slays Andoral, she's had to blight a number of griffons, and the constant blood magic use has massively accelerated the blight in her own body. Her brother garahel is this golden haired pretty boy beloved by everyone who looks upon him, and Isseya looks so much like a ghoul at this point people are uncomfortable being in the same room as her. Even though this is completely due to her service to the wardens.

Then, the remaining joined griffons start going mad. And then it starts to spread to the other, non-joined griffons. In using blood magic to convince the griffons the blight was just a disease, she had caused it to become one. A contagious one.

It's one of the most interesting examples of how dangerous blood magic actually is we ever see. We're just told over and over "blood magic bad, slippery slope to killing people. Bad. Even if you use your own." And we never really see explicitly why it's an inherently dangerous form of magic until this.

Back to Isseya though. Garahel's lover's Griffon had a clutch of eggs sired by Garahel's Crookytail. Isseya, knowing there was no stopping what was now in motion with the griffons, set out to do her one last act of penance. She took, and purified those eggs, hid them in a ward that kept them in stasis, so that they might only hatch once the griffons were gone, and this disease had died with them, so they might have a chance. And then she hid the clues to their location, and begged that whoever find them not let them be used by the wardens again.

And then she went on her calling.

These are not the actions of a villain. Isseya EMBODIES the warden principal of sacrifice. But it isn't glorious battle rewarded by a quick death alongside an archdemon for her. It's death by inches, by blight, knowingly and willingly accelerated in her own body to stop it from consuming the world. Sacrificing her ideals, the animals she loves, her brother, Garahel. Isseya gives it all for the wardens, to end the blight, and is not thanked for it or remembered kindly.

And she did everything she could to seed the slightest bit of hope, that both in spite of her and because of her, griffons might return to the world, as free creatures.

Her Veilguard arc feels like really egregious character assassination, and I wish she had been given an ounce of the sympathy that other characters had been given. It made sense for her to be here, thematically, mistakes and regret, and good intentions still leading to bad ends, but she deserved the same opportunity for forgiveness and/or redemption that Solas, Mythal, Cyrian, even Illario got.

Isseya was done dirty by Veilguard.

[bigdvmnhero]

relationships: dick & tim

word count: 6,019

summary:

“I—” Tim recalibrated. Desperately, he scanned Dick’s face—his features blurred over, a wall of nothing; Tim chipped away: “You were a kid, who’ll blame a kid? They won’t hurt anyone again. If you want to, to, to talk to anyone—but it was a long time ago, you’re Nightwing now—”

Tuesday morning: a video was uploaded to one of the deep web black markets. The footage, shot on those grainy vintage camcorders. But Tim knew that boy in the thumbnail; his eyes had memorized him, the heft and shape and dazzle of him, imprinting like an afterimage.

Or: a brother is a witness; there's your tragedy.

::

The apartment had that new-in-town smell: mothballs and desperation. Boxes upon boxes were strewn on the floor. One of them had a dirty plate forgotten on top of it. Old pad thai grease. Armed to the teeth in his full Robin regalia, Tim felt vaguely underdressed in Dick’s kitchen—like there was a speech to do, and he was already forgetting the words.

“Did I lose you again?” Dick said, through a mouthful of his second demolished mango. He was eating them fatherless-style. Dick had been talking about—insurance, maybe. “What’s up?”

Across him, Tim straightened. “Nothing, just.” Mortified, thinking about how I almost spritzed myself with cologne before coming here. What was this, prom? Tim just needed this to go better than last time, was all.

Last time: Tim’s absolute trashfire of a Bludhaven visit; Dick’s rictus of a smile; Dick’s face going bloodless in the half-dark as Tim mentioned Bruce’s adoption offer, absolute god-tier cringe; why’d he do that? It was the same look Dick wore, that first time Tim brandished the original Robin suit from its glass case. Of course Dick disappeared then, all dark and brooding into the night, seeyanara, or never; Tim never could stomach a Never.

He wanted to tell Dick he was working hard to learn it, too—the Bat’s art of Sheer Presence. The way its silhouette inspired awe, stillness. That lately Dick spooked easy, like an animal trying not to be seen. That on nights Tim was almost catatonic with grief, his first half-formed thought was, I want my brother.

Tim said, “It’s not every day you eat scrambled mangoes in Richard Grayson’s apartment.”

“Ever since I saw one of our knife-throwers eat it like this, I always wanted to try it.” Dick picked up a comically large knife and bisected the mango, carving the hairy seed out, before scraping its insides silly. He handed one of the halves to Tim, anointing it with a too-big spoon. Where was this man’s cutlery? “It’s supposed to look like a bowl, then you can walk around eating like that. Neat, huh?”

“Guess so.” Tim accepted Dick’s mango concoction with a smile. Maybe a spoonful, to be polite. Watch and weep, Alfred. “You know, I always wanted to try eating a mango like an apple.”

“Well, we got two left,” Dick snorted, digging into the plastic bag. “Make your dreams come true?”

Do, please. Truth was, Tim daydreamed of it often—no capes, no mission, the solace of a brother only a nightmare-city away, and his quiet balcony. If Tim was lucky, a heart-to-heart. Namely, about the No Good, Very Bad Year he was having.

Same one he was sure Dick was going through now, if only Dick deigned to tell him anything.

“Let’s try it together,” Tim said, conspiratory. “Skin and everything. Sprinkle some seasoning. Alfred would call it… positively diabolical.”

“Oh, I’d move heaven and earth to see that look on that man’s face again.” Dick tipped the mango-bowl into his mouth, then licked his lips with sticky satisfaction. “God. This stuff is top-shelf. Which sunny, tropical island did you pick them from, Tim—the Philippines?”

“Just a freebie. From a grateful citizen.”

Wow, and he was starting to lie to Dick the way he lied to Bruce: with alarmingly little remorse!

The truth: Tim had seen the streetcam footage. Dick Grayson liked to linger longer than normal by that market stall on Hammerstone; stuff was always overpriced, but he stayed for the small talk, exchanging recipes and turning over spotted fruit, face soft with a small secret joy until some goon on busted tires screeched by, or the disembodied voice in his comm summoned him back into the fold—exit Richard Grayson, bereft of mangoes.

“A freebie, huh?” Dick said.

Tim shrugged. “Stopped a mugging on my way here.”

“‘Course you did.”

Tim looked up to see a secret smile on Dick’s face, the dimple deepening. Tim ducked his head—it was always intense when Dick did that, holding your eyes to wait for his words to land. When Dick pushed himself away from the table, Tim was glad to look without being seen.

The scrape on Dick’s elbow matched Batman’s data: Nightwing smashed himself free from a plexiglass wall when it came down on him; there was that wispy patch of petrified-looking hair near his left ear where the flames nearly singed his scalp off. Take a few drunk accidental teenage arsons, a rice cooker, and a wall outlet that hadn’t been maintained since the 80s, and you get a nice, toasty residential building that collapsed in forty minutes. With their training, Nightwing should’ve been in and out in five, tops.

Dick coughed as he groped inside the cupboard. Lung irritation, Tim noted. Possible airway inflammation. Shoddy haircut. Dick must’ve tried to trim the charred split ends. If Tim was there. If Tim had covered his blind spot. If Tim was someone Dick could count on from time to time, maybe.

Maybe.

If, if, if.

“Sorry, haven’t stocked the fridge yet,” Dick said. “Water fine?”

“Yep,” Tim says, popping the P, and looked at the carpet the moment Dick’s stagelight-eyes turned his way. His gaze had scanned Tim with that same cataloging sweep earlier. If Dick noticed the weight of Tim’s Mission, paling him like some kind of sepsis, he said nothing. Tim knew what Dick was trying to do. This polite distance, not quite cold, not quite warm, was a dead sea any man could drown in. Bruce currently was. Dick intended to leave Tim here too, in the rolling distance, where no eyes could follow. Fat fucking chance.

Watch me on the trapeze, Tim, said Dick from the memory; staring from a boy’s impish face; those torch-bright eyes, holding his frightened ones. I’m going to do my act—’specially for you. And Tim had watched. And Tim had never stopped, how could he ever stop?

“So, this friendly visit…” Dick slid him a chipped mug of water. “B asked you to check in, or is this gonna be a regular thing from now?”

“Naw, I was just,” Tim waved vaguely. “around.”

“And you got free mangoes.”

Tim sipped. “Thought I’d share my spoils of war.”

The cold hard truth: Tim needed a reason to see his brother now. A work reason. No one wasted Nightwing’s time. While dodging stilted dinners at the manor and Bruce’s guilt-marred face, Tim had spent the better part of his days turning the adoption offer in his head, plugging a fake uncle into his stage-life, not calling Dick, and tracking transactions in the deep web black markets. He had a lead to a CP ring tied to Gotham’s cluster of orphanages—just more children slipping through Her fingers, with no one to come looking. But Tim was looking now. Ten years too late, maybe, but looking all the same.

Bless Barbara and her detailed surveillance notes. He’d set up the alert as instructed and lost himself in the Styx waters of rote work, wading deep, the world submerged into the dull clack of fingers on a keyboard.

Tuesday morning, a new video was uploaded—the price tag: half a million in crypto.

The preview was fifteen seconds long. The footage, cast in near-darkness, had grain matching those recorded on a point-and-shoot that hadn’t been in the market for at least eight years. JVC VHS-C Camcorder, that was how old it was. But Tim knew that figure in the thumbnail. Canary-yellow cape, bloodied knees and pixie boots. A costume for someone ten apples tall.

Only one Robin was fighting against the affliction that was Gotham in single digits. And Tim would know him; his eyes had memorized him, the heft and shape and dazzle of him, imprinting like an afterimage.

Watch me on the trapeze, Tim.

“Get a visual,” was all Batman said, when he called an hour before. This was a case he didn’t think Batman was even supposed to know about, but Tim didn’t press; that voice, floundering in the undercurrent, was all Bruce. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Lung irritation, Tim thought. Grainy footage. Bruce’s cryptic-as-hell phone call. Charred split ends. Nightwing’s casual suicidal patrols? Yeah, Tim was going to dry-heave across Dick’s apartment floor; the inside of his mouth was all sour, like something gone bad overnight. Dick knew about the leak, but not that Batman and his underperforming Robin were on the case, too. Tim was gonna have to do it again—like his first day at the Cave, digging up the memory of Dick’s ghosts, not letting the damn dead stay dead.

Dick threw a hand towel at Tim’s face with a laugh. “Wipe your mouth, Timmy.”

Nicknames, huh.

If Dick hated him, he was hiding it well. Like a child, Tim obediently cleaned the pulp from his mouth. Then, like a coward: “Could I—bathroom?”

read the rest on ao3

[avelera]

I will confess that I have started watching Arcane (knowing absolutely nothing about the source material whatsoever) after seeing all your flailing on my dash. I am currently about halfway through season 1; how braced should my body be?

I am SORRY it took me so long to reespond to this but I literally saw this message and froze because HOW do I even respond to this without spoilers??

It is the most tightly written, masterful writing I've ever seen pretty much ever in television. BECAUSE the music AND animation is all controlled in-house, you as a viewer don't need to worry you're crazy for thinking that tiny micro-expression meant something. IT DOES. It took them a week to animate every 4 seconds so yeah, if you think your ship is exchanging a heartfelt look, it is actually happening, there's no accidental moments here and it's SO rewarding to close viewers.

Imma be honest, Arcane S1 was lovely the first time I watched it, but the moment I became a bonkers screaming evangelist for it was when I REWATCHED S1 and realized just how tightly written it is. Every single moment is written to build towards the final scene of S1 and it is so tightly done that you can pretty much freeze-frame anywhere and scream at the screen because if THIS MOMENT had gone differently, the final scene wouldn't have happened. And it's just. Incredible as a structure-focused writer like me to witness so as a brilliant writer yourself, I will say, S1 is worth a re-watch just from a Structure Writer's angle.

S2 has been even more nutty lately but until this Saturday I don't know what the complete work will look like so I'm swiftly losing my mind and chewing the dry wall while I wait. So far, it's incredibly epic and I have so much faith in these writers that even as I create crazy theories, I don't mind if they're wrong, because I trust them so implicitly that whatever they come up with will be BETTER than what I did. But, if I am right about my theory, I will probably be catatonic for a week because of Emotions.

So... tl;dr.... braced???

[girllblogging777]

°•*⁀➷ 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑝 𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ // my 1k celebration

╰┈➤ mattheo riddle

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

♡ the definition of “i can fix him”

♡ you two were paired up against your will for a potions project, and he acted all annoyed and nonchalant at first

♡ but after spending time with you outside of classes, he understood you weren’t like anyone else he’d ever met

♡ you always validated his feelings, never said anything bad about him or his reputation. you just treated him like a normal person

♡ and he enjoyed it. he enjoyed the way you’d tease him about messing up the potion, or how you’d actually listen to his silly suggestions of adding random ingredients in it

♡ and within a couple of months, mattheo riddle was down bad for you

♡ so, when winter came around, he found himself taking part in all sorts of activities he never thought he’d do

♡ ice skating ? building snowmen ? watching those hallmark movies you love so much ? you name it, he’ll follow you. after all, he wouldn’t wanna lose the best thing he’s ever had

♡ on your newly established weekly dates in hogsmeade, he’d make fun of you for ordering matcha instead of hot chocolate “seriously, love ? it tastes like grass !”

♡ and even though he always makes fun of you and your completely random interests, he always listens and remembers about them

♡ which is why, on christmas day, you’d wake up to find a basket filled with everything you’ve ever mentioned to him

♡ a trinket of that cute animal you told him was your favorite, the new book of a series you read, all sorts of beauty products that were your favourite scent, that piece of jewellery you had eyed the previous week at the store

♡ you ask, he delivers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : sorry for not making this too personalised, but i got wayyy too much requests and there’s no way i could think of 40+ scenarios… i did try to make it accurate to what i got, so i hope you’ll like it !

[whentherewerebicycles]

my baby is six months old today!!! he’s been alive for half a year!!!!! it somehow feels both like he's been in my life forever and like i just gave birth days ago. I love him so much it makes me feel a little frantic sometimes. he is down for his first nap now and I can hear him in his crib grumbling to himself about the terrible indignities they subject sweet little babies to these days (chief among them being wrapped in blankets in a soft little sleeping bag in a cozy warm room for a nice restorative nap).

I think I want to journal a bit today—six things about the baby + six thoughts about my experience of parenting thus far. baby first!

well i mean. he is just perfect. he is just the best little guy ever. all babies are the best little guy ever but he is MY best little guy you know? i love him so much. what is his personality like? i would say he has definitely retained something of the watchfulness and slight reserve he had as a newborn. he has these huge dark eyes and he studies things very intently and in general likes to Observe the Situation before wading in. but he is, so far, not especially shy? the stranger danger phase has not set in yet so he enjoys being held by a wide range of people and will warm up to new faces after a bit, especially if they make silly expressions at him or sing to him. he also definitely has His People, who he is not reserved with at all. the second my sister walks in he starts kicking his legs furiously and babbling to her to get her to come over and talk to him. he looooves my mom and is way snugglier with her than anyone else. he adores his primary babysitters (his nanny + liz's husband A) and is sooo chatty with them. he was slow to smile (liz's baby was beaming at everybody from like five weeks on but i don't think O was smiling regularly until about 12 weeks) and he is still pretty selective with them (strangers do NOT get smiles unless they make a very silly surprising noise). but his general temperament is just like… he’s a calm, even-keeled, good-natured little guy who is down for pretty much whatever. this kid can hang.

he is REALLY good at independent play. if he's fed and changed he can pretty much entertain himself for 45-60 min at a time without any input from me. he just kicks around on his mat and plays with his toys. in the morning he wakes up around 6:30 but the family does not get up until 7:20 and he will just hang out in his crib making his hands dance in the air and chattering happily to himself. i think this is probably like 80% inborn temperament... my mom says i was the exact same way as a baby, just like totally content to chill and think and talk to myself. but i think maybe 20% of it is also things i consciously did to encourage this from about four weeks on and i am proud of that! i think one of the qualities i like best in myself is that i have a high tolerance for boredom because i can just get lost in my thoughts/imagination. as long as i have something to think about or some imaginary situation to play out in my head i am content. i really want that for him too! idk more thoughts about this when i journal about parenting lol. but i appreciate that he doesn't have to be entertained 24/7 (at least at this age). he is content to just be on his own or just be in the room watching people do other stuff.

obviously i adored him from the start lol but i would say that four months marked a big turning point in terms of how much fun he was to hang out with. he just started seeming so much more alert and engaged around then. and then this last five to six months span of time has just been SO fun. he's fully a little person. he has preferences and opinions and favorite toys and favorite people and favorite animals (ruthie). he is learning ALL the time. you can see him puzzling things out and beginning to develop a rudimentary understanding of cause and effect. right now, like in the past week or so, he is extremely into TEXTURES. he must scritch-scratch absolutely everything with his little baby nails. he is obsessed with his "baby paper" (crinkly paper) and he is much more open to tummy time now mainly because it allows him to scritch-scratch all the different quilts we use as playmats. he likes to scritch-scratch the glass when i take him to the window in the morning to show him his friends the trees, and if there is any kind of graphic on my t-shirts he MUST scratch the edges of it. and he does all of this with a look of total focus lol this kid is LOCKED IN on scritch-scratching.

he laughs so much these days. he also seems to have figured out that people react positively and often rush over to engage with him when he laughs, so sometimes if i'm on the other side of the room and he wants me to pay attention to him he will just do this "huh-huh-HAH-HA! HA!" belly laugh so i'll come over and make silly faces at him. i do pretty much nonstop funny accents and comedy bits for him and i'd say i get a laugh 50% of the time... the other 50% of the time he just gives me this wide-eyed look that clearly says "ok... this lady is nutso and i seem to be trapped in her care... i need to proceed carefully here..." which is also very funny.

he is really into being gently manhandled right now haha. i think it is probably related to developing proprioception? but he loves to be "flying baby" (where you lift him over your head and zoom him around like an airplane) and he loves being a pendulum in a giant clock (where you hold him under his arms and swing his body back and forth as you lift him up and down) and he REALLY loves it when you wrap him up in your arms and roll into a ball and roll over and over a bunch of times. also it delights him when you play-wrestle with him and tickle him even though he cannot yet really wrestle back lol. bonus points if you also growl at him and pretend you are going to eat him up... that's a big hit right now. when i was a kid my dad would wrestle with us all the time and pretend to be a bear chasing us around the house on all fours and let us ride on his back and stuff and it was so much fun. so far it is also pretty fun for the grownup lol i feel like it's a great way to get some silly energy out. but also i think i need to start lifting weights lol because this kid is already so heavy and i want to be able to keep tossing him around and wrestling with him when he's even bigger!!

on a related note: he is getting much stronger!! he is a big boy (as of today: 75th percentile for weight, 98th percentile for height, and wearing 12 month clothes). some of the physical milestones have been challenging for him because he weighs a lot and has a big ol noggin, so it's a lot of work to lift/maneuver his body. but he is rolling over pretty regularly and happily now, and in the last day or two he's started pushing up on his hands a little when he's on his tummy which was the big tummy time milestone he hadn't hit yet. he can also sit up with hip support and is starting to brace himself on his hands while sitting. the contrast with my nephew has been so funny to watch... my nephew is two and a half months older and is the tiniest, springiest little guy, so it's a lot easier for him to monkey around lol. but my nephew also just has this truly nonstop internal motor that seems to drive him to MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE at all times. my baby uhh does not have that motor lol. he finds my nephew's frenetic energy a little overwhelming and is like actually i would prefer to lounge around here on my mat scritch-scratching a quilt, thank you. truly my child lol. why "move around" when you could instead sit in one place daydreaming. it's funny to watch them together and just be like ohhh kids are SO different there's such a wide spectrum of normal.

ok there are six things!!! some other rapidfire facts just for my files: he is still quite gloriously bald but he's started getting hair! no eyebrows yet though lol and no sign that they are on the horizon. he loves taking baths with me except maybe "loves" is the wrong word... he takes bathtime deathly seriously because it is Water Kicking Time and he was put on this earth to Kick Water. so bathtimes are training sessions... he does not smile at ALL during baths he is too Locked In, but he screams and screams when you try to take him out because he was STILL TRAINING. his eyes still have a little bit of that newborn dark blue left but are mostly dark brown now with perhaps the barest hint of hazel. he is really into music and will go into a trance state when you sing to him or play instruments for him. he loves to chomp on his toys. he used to "kiss" your cheek but now just wants to nom nom nom on your face. his cheeks get so rosy when he's worked up or chilly or excited. he is transfixed by his own hands. he does this sharp startled little inhale when something surprises him. he can now take his pacifier out of his mouth and sometimes put it back in (i'd say we have a 20% success rate of getting the pacifier back in the right way). he is almost always a perfect sleeper although we had a little rough patch last night so i'm holding my breath hoping he's not about to have some kind of regression. he loves to kvetch and has mastered the fine art of lowgrade grumbling and complaining. he is teething and so there is a lot of drool everywhere all the time. he likes to hold his board books while i read to him i think it makes him feel important and involved lol. he is very soft and warm and smells good. he loves to snuggle in the big bed with mom. he is the best. he is just the best!!! i am the luckiest person in the world. i love him so much and i love being his mom. what a good baby!!!

[ministarfruit]

lucky star because I was feeling nostalgic

[orengejoshi]

Paperhatober Day 11: Cherry 🍒

x B gata H kei crossover

[emborami]

Hi so in case anyone was dying to know, this is what i think some of the cast of the terror would look like as animals :3 notes under cut

From left to right:

Crozier- Irish Terrier

Silna- Polar Bear

Goodsir- ryeland sheep (known for tasty mutton ;3)

Hickey- red fox

Franklin- old english game rooster

Fitzjames- red deer

I had fun coming up with them :) and I kinda wanna doodle some screencaps but with like a lil short sheep goodsir and his bestie the giant polar bear lady silence whom he thinks would love England. Or like hickey on his bullshit but with more flair bc he would have a fox body and tail to really fuck up that line of action

Anyways heres some closeups and sketches

[cosmicrhetoric]

ive started reading the gsnk manga :) and first and foremost i am rediscovering the particular kind of comedy only four panel manga can achieve but also. okay in the ten years since i first saw the anime ive consumed a lot more media with the 'girl prince' trope (combined works of riyoko ikeda) and yeah obviously that's what kashima was satirizing but even still they broke the mold when they came up with her. there's nothing but air between her beautiful gnc ears <3 you can't even chalk up her bullshit to accidentally being from the high shoujo berubara universe like wtf is she EVER doing........

[torawro]

i like ‘em a little insane, covered in blood and severely mentally unstable <3