#with less animals around him all the time

[sixeyesonathiel]

nerd!satoru who yaps nonstop about the multiverse while you’re just trying to eat your lunch, waving his hands around dramatically as he explains the concept of alternate dimensions with half a rice ball in his mouth and crumbs stuck to the corner of his lips. who pokes at his food with a mechanical pencil because he forgot his chopsticks again, and then insists with wide eyes and a mouth half full, “technically, pencils are just wooden utensils for intellectuals.” he gets giddy over a new graphing calculator update like it’s a new iphone drop, tapping the screen like it’s a baby animal, and once dragged you into a 40-minute rant about ant communication hierarchies while you were just brushing your teeth, half-asleep and mouth foaming with toothpaste.

he has no less than ten tabs open at all times—reddit conspiracy theories, physics forums, a paused youtube video on quantum tunneling, a spreadsheet titled “do cats defy newton’s laws?”, a google doc labeled “reasons why kissing might be a form of molecular alignment,” and none of it has anything to do with the assignment he’s supposed to be doing. he zones out during lectures, doodling black hole spirals, equations shaped like hearts, and cats in lab coats in the margins of his notes. once, he drew you holding hands with a worm in a bowtie and captioned it “me and my universe.” somehow still manages to get top marks every single time, even though he once turned in an assignment with a greasy fry stain in the corner because he used it as a napkin in the library mid-cram session.

he mutters the weirdest things under his breath like “i feel like a misaligned proton today” or “the moon’s energy was too sarcastic last night” and you just blink at him like🧍‍♀️while sipping your drink. he wears mismatched socks on purpose and says, “it’s a metaphor for duality.” has five alarms labeled “wake up genius,” “ur gonna flunk,” “your girlfriend will leave you,” “pls satoru,” and “EMERGENCY: CUTE, PRETTY AND SCORCHINGLY HOT GIRL WAITING” and still manages to sleep through all of them unless you call him. his glasses? perpetually smudged, held together with washi tape. his notebooks? an unholy fusion of complicated theorems, grocery lists, pressed flowers, cat doodles, love notes to you, and a page just titled “top 10 reasons why my girlfriend is cuter than entropy.”

his laptop is a biohazard—dusty, overworked, full of files like “time_is_an_illusion_final_FINAL_reallyfinal_actuallyfinal.pptx” and “uRwrong_iMright.docx.” the case is covered in anime stickers, tiny equations, stars drawn with glitter pen, and a wrinkled polaroid of you sticking your tongue out that he keeps taped on like it’s a sacred relic. he listens to lo-fi while studying and pauses every few minutes just to sigh dreamily and whisper, “this part sounds like you looking at me for the first time.”

and yet… he’s so fine it’s borderline illegal. tall, messy white hair that sticks up in all directions and defies every known force of nature, ice-blue eyes that melt when they look at you, and a cocky little smile that makes your chest hurt even when he says things like, “do you think our cells are spiritually linked?” he doesn’t even try to be charming—he just is, like he spawned with a flirt trait.

you fw it. you fw him. every unfiltered ramble, every hyperactive explanation about wormholes or why he thinks bees are secretly time travelers. the way his voice speeds up when he’s excited, and how his hands start waving like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra of nerdiness. you don’t even bother trying to follow every word—you’re just watching him, heart doing somersaults, because he’s so beautiful when he’s passionate. and the fact that you never laugh at him? only ever smile and let him go on? yeah. that cracked his emotional firewall a long time ago.

so now he’s all sunshine and sparkles around you. a literal bundle of joy. grinning at his phone like a middle schooler when you text him “lol ok.” kicking his feet while giggling, voice memos full of stuff like “what if we held hands inside a particle accelerator 😳👉👈” sent at 2:13 a.m., followed by three minutes of him wheezing into a pillow. he calls you his “favorite constant,” even if you don’t get the joke. and if you do? he twirls his hair, blushes, and stares at you like you just split the atom and made it cute.

he makes playlists named “gravity got nothing on how hard i fell for you,” draws you in lab coats saying “ur the thesis to my hypothesis,” keeps your photo in his pencil case and shows it to random people like “this is my girlfriend. she understands my quantum jokes.” if they blink weirdly, he’ll just smile and say, “it’s okay, not everyone gets theoretical perfection.”

being loved by you makes him goo. makes his neurons do the macarena. you make all his bizarre little pieces light up like neon signs. you walked into his strange little world and said “yeah, i’ll stay,” and now he’s rearranging every cosmic thread to make sure it’s perfect for you. adds fairy lights. labels his notebooks “our theories.” buys matching pens. you made his chaos feel like a cozy little planet. he buys you plushies shaped like atoms and puts your name in the acknowledgements of his lab reports. tells people “she’s the reason the data graphs came out prettier.”

nerd!satoru who’s helplessly, hopelessly, tooth-rottingly in love with you. who grabs your hand mid-ramble just to feel you close. who brings you hot cocoa and explains entropy like it’s a bedtime story. who kisses your forehead and tells you “you’re my favorite anomaly in this whole universe.”

and he thanks you—not in grand declarations, but in the quiet moments: when he scoots closer to you without saying a word, when he tugs on your sleeve with glassy eyes after a long day, when he looks at you after an hour of nerding out like you built the whole galaxy just to hear him talk.

his world was spinning way too fast. then you walked in and gave it gravity. and now he orbits you—and he’s never been happier to revolve around anything in his life.

[dollyswishingwell]

would it be possible to ask for a scene with each one of the lads boys where y/n suggest another woman would be perfect for him?

luv your works

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ It was a joke, honey

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, i made it as less angsty as possible cause fuck that.

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You joke that another woman would look better with him

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The sun was pouring into the atelier, golden and lazy. You were lounging on a plush blanket spread out on the floor, eating lychee with sticky fingers while Rafayel sat nearby, sketching lazy strokes of you in the sunlight, your legs, your neckline, the exact curl of your hair he liked most.

He looked so serene, cross-legged with his messy purple hair tied back in a loose ribbon, a shell-pigment smudge on his cheekbone. You smiled at him, fond and playful.

“You know,” you said casually, licking juice from your thumb, “that art curator from the gala would be perfect for you. Gorgeous, elegant, knows her brushes. Bet she doesn’t wear cupcake pajamas all day and cry over cartoon animals.”

Rafayel stopped mid-sketch.

His head snapped up so fast you swore he might’ve pulled something.

“What did you just say?”

You blinked. “I’m kidding, Raffy.”

“No—no, don’t joke like that,” he said quickly, dropping the sketchpad and crawling over to you like a panicked cat. “What do you mean she’d be perfect for me? That lady talks in museum riddles and said my sculpture ‘lacked post-human theory.’ I wanted to bite her.”

You started laughing, but he was already dramatically flopping into your lap like a deflated sea lion.

“She didn’t even like the shell pigments,” he mumbled, face smooshed against your belly. “And she asked if I’d ever consider painting ‘real subjects.’ What does that even mean? I only paint you.”

“Raf—”

“I like your cupcake pajamas,” he said with a dramatic sniff, clinging tighter. “They have bows on them. You’re soft and sweet and cry over sea turtle videos and you always smell like strawberries and conditioner. Why would I want some brush lady when I can have my pretty princess wife who lets me taste her lipgloss?”

“…You lick my lip gloss?”

“That’s not the point,” he said, lifting his head, ears bright red and eyes wide with betrayed panic. “Do you want to leave me for someone with real pajamas?”

You burst out laughing, swatting at his chest. “You’re so dramatic! I was joking!”

He glared at you for exactly one second before slumping back onto your lap with a sigh. “…I’m going to spit bubbles at you soon.”

“You always say that.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

It was late afternoon, and Zayne was sitting at the edge of the velvet couch in your shared walk-in closet, fingers lazily undoing the buttons on his sleeves as you turned in the mirror, twirling in a pastel gown he’d bought you for the hospital’s annual gala.

“You’ve gotten too good at spoiling me,” you murmured, checking the fit of the bodice. “You realize you could’ve brought literally any woman to that event, right? That intern from cardiology is practically your type. Tall. Driven. Doesn’t sit around the house in fluffy slippers eating strawberries in bed.”

You said it lightly, teasing, the kind of little self-deprecating quip you always made to make fun of how much he babied you now. You expected a subtle eye-roll, maybe a quiet “You’re being ridiculous.”

Instead, Zayne’s hands paused on the cufflink.

He said nothing.

You turned in time to see the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. He looked up at you from over the rims of his glasses, his hazel green eyes unreadable.

“…Is that what you think?” he asked finally, voice low and even.

You blinked. “Zaynie. I was joking.”

He stood, smoothing the sleeves back down and walking toward you with quiet, measured steps. You watched him approach in the mirror, his reflection looming behind you, composed as always, but you could see the way his brows remained faintly drawn together.

“I don’t know what made you say that,” he murmured, reaching to adjust the strap of your dress that had slipped slightly off your shoulder, “but I chose you.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, slow, deliberate, just over the thin strap.

“I chose the woman who sends me midday pictures of her lunch shaped like hearts,” he continued, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. “The one who buys enough hair clips to keep an entire hospital ward supplied. The one who waits for me to come home just so she can tell me about a dream she had where I turned into a pastry.”

You muffled a laugh. “You were a mille-feuille. I didn’t choose that.”

“I still think about it,” he deadpanned.

You turned to face him, cheeks warm, but he was already brushing your hair gently behind your ear with a scarred hand. He looked down at you, expression still serious.

“Don’t joke like that again,” he said softly. “I don’t find it funny.”

“…Sorry.”

“I’d have to fire the intern just for looking at me.”

You gaped. “You can’t fire someone just for—!”

He tilted his head, faintest quirk of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Watch me.”

And then, without another word, he bent down and kissed you full on the lips, one hand at your waist, the other ghosting along the back of your neck. It was warm and grounding and possessive.

And when he pulled away, you were a little breathless.

“…I’m yours,” he said simply.

That was it.

No flourish. No embellishment.

Just fact.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You were both curled up in bed on a rainy morning, tucked under a heavy quilt in the massive penthouse bedroom. Xavier was warm beside you, half-draped over your body like a sleepy cat, chin nestled on your stomach as you idly scrolled your holopad looking at outfits for the upcoming Deep Space Hunter gala.

“I’m never going to look as good as all those girls in the newsfeeds,” you mumbled, squinting at a model in a diamond mesh gown. “Honestly, you should’ve taken someone like that to the gala instead. Someone elegant. Mysterious. Not a spoiled princess who wears socks with cartoon suns on them.”

Xavier blinked, very slowly.

Then he reached out and poked the toe of said sock peeking from under the blanket.

“I like the suns,” he said flatly. “They are cheerful.”

You snorted. “Xavi. I was joking.”

He didn’t move. He just stared at you, blue eyes calm, but somehow deeply… offended.

“I do not want someone mysterious,” he said seriously. “I already do not understand most humans. Why would I want someone more confusing?”

“…It was a joke.”

“I want the one who sings to her moisturizer.”

“That was one time.”

“I want the one who makes my tea too sweet. Who buys sparkly jackets she never wears. Who calls me ‘Xavi’ like it’s a real name.”

You stared at him.

Then you cracked a smile. “Are you pouting?”

He didn’t answer. Just slowly burrowed further into your stomach like a sulking marshmallow.

After a beat of silence, his muffled voice mumbled, “You said you were a princess. You are my princess. That is a high rank.”

“I was joking, Xavier.”

“I’m still taking damage.”

You laughed and stroked your fingers through his soft silver hair, brushing it gently behind one ear. “You’re ridiculous.”

He lifted his head, eyes soft and serious. “Don’t say things like that again,” he said. “Not even in jest. I have already chosen you. You are not up for debate.”

And then, he leaned up and kissed your forehead once, firmly, as though sealing some sort of strange celestial pact. After that, he promptly slumped back down onto your chest and… fell asleep mid-hug.

You stared at him, stunned.

“…You literally passed out after scolding me.”

“I didn’t scold,” he murmured sleepily. “I was clarifying.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were curled up on Sylus’s desk chair in one of his private armory offices, lazily eating sugared fruit and scrolling newsfeeds while he reclined on the leather couch, arms spread out like he owned the world (he practically did).

The room smelled like spiced tea and faint smoke from the plasma testing range. Outside, night had fallen over the city, but in here everything felt untouched, lavish and quiet, until you muttered under your breath:

“Maybe you should’ve picked a hunter from the top ranks. One who’s still active. Not some ex-space menace who lounges around demanding velvet slippers and biting your fingers when you steal her strawberries.”

Sylus didn’t even blink.

He just let that silence hang, slow and syrupy.

Then, like molasses.

“…Is that your idea of a joke?”

You flicked your wrist lazily. “Sort of.”

He stood.

One smooth, terrifying movement.

And then, he was towering over you, red eyes glowing faintly, one hand braced on the back of the chair you were in, leaning down so close you could feel the heat off his breath.

“You think I tolerate you because you’re convenient?” he said, voice low and amused. “Darling, I made you like this.’”

You raised your brows, trying to mask the way your heart jumped. “You liked me better when I could fight 5 wanderers in one go and take out five protocol gangs before lunch.”

He huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “You’re still the same little menace who smacked me in the mouth because I put honey in your tea.”

“That was chamomile, Sylus.”

“Exactly. You’re still feisty enough to assault a the leader of the N109 zone over steeped flowers. And you think you’ve gone soft?”

He leaned closer, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear now, voice smug and fond and dangerously low.

“You traded your blaster for diamond hairpins. You made me redecorate an entire wing because the pillows were ‘visually tragic.’ You ride me harder than my bloodsteel stallion and still have the audacity to pout when I don’t butter your toast right. And infact you didn’t even want to be this, didn’t i have to lock you in the safehouse”

You swallowed.

He chuckled.

“You haven’t lost your edge. You’ve just sharpened it.”

And then, he kissed you.

Hard. Fierce. Like claiming territory. One hand in your hair, the other wrapped around your waist, dragging you up and onto his lap like he owned you. Which he did. Which you let him.

When he pulled back, his tone dipped into something rougher.

“If I wanted a docile little soldier,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against your lower lip, “I wouldn’t have chosen the only woman alive who keeps demanding I wear a fluffy pink robe to breakfast.”

You stared at him.

“…I like when you wear it.”

“I know. That’s why I keep it on longer.”

He smirked.

And you realized, he wasn’t reassuring you.

He was reaffirming ownership.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The Skyhaven penthouse was quiet.

Caleb had just come back from a mission, still in his Colonel uniform, gloves half-peeled off, peaked cap tossed on the marble counter, when you made the mistake of speaking.

“I saw the footage from today’s op. You looked good next to Commander Reyna,” you said lightly, scrolling your holo as you lounged in your silken loungewear. “She’s sharp. Still out in the field. You two would’ve made a great pair, honestly.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

You glanced up, expecting a scoff or a smirk.

Instead, Caleb was just standing there. Still.

Staring at you like you’d just told him the sky wasn’t real.

He walked toward you slowly, boots quiet on the marble floor, until he reached the couch and crouched, level with you. His purple eyes were unreadable.

“…You think I’d want her?” he asked softly. Too softly.

You blinked. “It was a joke, Caleb.”

His gloved hand came up, gently cupping your cheek. So gentle. Too gentle. “No, Pipsqueak. You were testing me.”

You opened your mouth to laugh it off, but he leaned closer. His forehead touched yours, breath warm. His expression didn’t change.

“Let me be very clear,” he said, in that calm Colonel voice that made hardened men freeze in place. “I didn’t become this to be with someone like Reyna. I didn’t tear my hands open in simulations, I didn’t bleed for Fleet promotions, I didn’t build this life up from the ashes of everything we used to be just to throw it away for someone else.”

You swallowed.

“I built this world for you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your brow. “Piece by piece. Brick by brick. I wanted to make you feel so safe that you forgot how to fight. So pampered that the word mission made your eyes glaze over.”

His fingers traced your jaw now, lovingly, obsessively.

“You used to walk into gunfire without flinching. Now you scream if I burn your pancakes,” he smiled faintly. “I’ve done my job well, haven’t I?”

“Caleb…”

“You think I’d throw that away? For some woman with good trigger discipline and zero love for cherry-sugar lip balm?”

“…You’re being dramatic.”

He chuckled, and kissed your cheek. “You’re right. I am. That’s what you do to me, pips.”

Then, he tugged you onto his lap like you weighed nothing, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight, tight, tight against his chest.

“You don’t get to talk about replacing yourself ever again,” he murmured. “Not even as a joke. Not after everything I gave up for you.”

You felt his hand press low on your spine, protective and possessive.

“You’re not the one who changed, sweetheart. I did. And I’m never going back.”

[deadprince05]

hiii👋

Can you pls wrt about cute habits of Isagi 😩😩😩🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏?!

Cute Relationship Habits. Blue Lock

Cute habits of characters towards you.

Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Meguru Bachira, Sae Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Ryusei Shido, Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi

Isagi Yoichi

• After walks, he always tries to walk you all the way to the door to make sure you're okay and safe.

• On your way home, you stop at a small convenience store where you buy cat food and feed the street cats.

• Instead of "You're beautiful," he'll say: "You're like a perfect pass—always hitting straight to the heart." And if you cook something delicious for him, he'll declare: "Better than scoring in the finals."

Meguru Bachira

• He always wakes up before you to write nice wishes and compliments on pieces of paper, and then throws them in different places: in your bag, in your clothes pocket, or discreetly puts them on the table.

• Bachira loves touch, he is very tactile. He often holds your hand or hugs you. When you're sitting on the couch, he can just come over and lie on your lap.

• Bachira loves copying everything you do. Cross your arms? He'll mirror you instantly. Yawn? He'll fake a dramatic yawn too... Then burst into that signature bubbly laughter: "See? We're totally in sync!"

Sae Itoshi

• Sae is not an obvious romantic, but many of his actions towards you are imbued with concern. When you go to bed, he covers you with a blanket, and then hugs you from behind, stroking you until you fall asleep.

• He doesn’t really like to show affection in public, but he always accompanies you to various events and tells you in interviews how wonderful you are.

• Sae hates when people invade his personal space, but you're the exception. You can fix his hair - "Are you done?" he'll ask... (but he won't pull away.) Sometimes he'll even lean down so you can reach him better. If you take his hand, he'll pretend not to notice at first but then slowly intertwine his fingers with yours.

Seishiro Nagi

• He gets along well with animals, so he often plays with street kittens, and then takes pictures of them and sends them to you with a caption stating that you look at these kittens in some way.

• Nagi hates unnecessary movements, but you are the exception. He'll lazily wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close when you sit together—as if you're his personal support. His fingers might idly play with the hem of your clothes or a strand of your hair while he watches TV or dozes off.

• Nagi speaks to you without words: - tugs your hand when he wants to lead you somewhere - nods toward his backpack when he wants you to get his water - closes his eyes when you fix his hair, as if saying: "Keep going".

You've learned to understand his silence — and he's learned to *open up* only for you.

Reo Mikage

• Very frequent gifts. Every time Reo goes to meet you, he always brings something with him. It can be either a white chocolate bar or a gold necklace.

• Gives you various cute nicknames

• Physical touch is his love language. He'll hold your pinky when walking together if he can't hug you properly, tuck your hair behind your ear when strands fall in your face, then press a kiss to your forehead after. He'll cradle your cold hands in his to warm them - even when his own fingers are freezing.

Ryusei Shido

• He's very tall and uses it to tease you. He takes something from you and waits for you to start trying to take it away. When you reach for the stolen item, he kisses you on the lips.

• He's much more affectionate next to you, like some kind of cat you don't know what to expect from.

• Likes to bite your cheeks, or unexpectedly lick your neck.

Michael Kaiser

• His backhanded compliments sound like insults, but you've learned to decode them: "You're less annoying today" = "You look beautiful" "At least someone can tolerate me" = "I'm happy you're here" "Go to sleep or you'll look like a zombie" = "I like how you look and want you well-rested"

• Jealous... but won't admit it. He'll never say it outright, but his reactions give him away completely, If someone flirts with you, he appears right at that moment and "accidentally" positions himself between you.

• His care stings like an injection without anesthesia: sharp but effective. "You'll only have yourself to blame if you freeze" he grumbles, draping his jacket over you. If you get sick, he'll drag over medicine but growl "Don't you dare be ill before the match" (even when the match is a month away). When you're exhausted, he might permit you to sleep on his shoulder - but only if "nobody's watching."

Rin Itoshi

• Rin won't initiate hugs or hold hands first, but if you do it—his fingers will tighten slightly in response, and the faintest hint of a smile will flicker at the corner of his mouth.

• He doesn’t give flowers or cards, but if he notices you need something—it’ll magically appear in your bag or on your desk. New headphones because yours broke? Done. That book you casually mentioned weeks ago? There it is. He’ll make it happen—but never admit it.

• Rin isn't the type to openly confess his affection, but you might notice his gaze lingering on you in a crowd. If you catch him, he'll immediately look away — as if he was just studying something on the horizon.

[goodlucktai]

hold the world to its best (7/?)

rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: raph & OC title borrowed from light by sleeping at last part of the archer au

with art by @soldrawss !

(prev) (next)

x

Raph wakes up early the next morning to the feeling of something going missing. A tiny weight beside him that isn’t there anymore. 

The only reason it isn’t immediately alarming is because he can hear Leo talking quietly, the only cue his subconscious needs not to panic. He still cracks one eye open in time to see a familiar silhouette disappearing out his bedroom door. 

Since the storm, Gio has been a little clingier and a lot quieter. It seemed to have stirred up anxiety that hasn’t settled yet, like sediment in water that’s taking its time drifting back to where it usually rests. When he isn’t actively being distracted from it, it sits with him, casting him in shadow. 

He has enough shadows as it is. At four years old, they’re so much bigger than him. 

I wonder if he had a nightmare, Raph thinks, and with that thought the grogginess still clinging to him vanishes instantly. With the sigh of someone who knows he won’t get back to sleep until he checks in, Raph hauls himself up out of bed. 

There’s a light spilling out of the living room doorway, a block of warm yellow stamped across the hall. More than that, it’s the sound of his brothers’ voices that Raph’s following, that he’d be able to follow clear across the world. It probably wouldn’t even be the hardest thing he’s ever done. 

“—couldn’t get back to sleep either,” Leo is saying as Raph draws nearer. His tone is low and friendly, an automatic balm to frayed nerves. “I appreciate the company, Jorgito.”

It slaps Raph upside the head that he managed to forget about his little brother’s years-long losing battle with insomnia. In part, he thinks guiltily, because ever since Gio moved in, it’s been something they all worried less about. 

Those first weeks after the invasion were rough for everyone, but it was especially hard to watch Leo wake up from a night terror and have absolutely no idea where he was. No idea if he was safe. Shuddering away when they reached out to him, eyes darting around the room with an expression of raw fear—as if he was an animal being hunted by some unimaginable monster, and not a teenage boy surrounded by the people who would kill for him with their teeth and bare hands if they had to. 

All of them got a lot of practice at talking him down, at remembering to keep a light on for him. But Gio had a built-in fast-pass. Gio only had to put himself in Leo’s line of sight and take his hands, this brother of theirs who found Leo in the dark and carried him home in the first place, and all of the electrified, lock-jawed terror would seep from Leo like water down a leaky drain. If Gio was here, it meant he’d already been saved. It was a touchstone that never failed. 

Even after Leo recovered and moved out of the medbay and left those night terrors behind, Gio continued to make it his business to keep the younger turtle company on sleepless nights.

The odds are very good that no one has thought to check in with Leonardo since Giorgio was cursed. Raph tries to think of when he last saw Leo without his mask and can’t pin it down. 

“Guess you’ve always been an early bird,” Leo goes on, “even back when you were just a little baby bird. Mikey’s the same way—up with the sun for every second of the day till it goes down again. The circadian rhythm of a bumblebee, and just as busy as one, too. Ninety-percent of papa’s gray fur is that maniac’s fault, don’t believe anything anyone else tells you.” 

Whatever Gio says in reply is too quiet for Raph to hear from the hall. He moves forward, enough to look through the doorway, and his heart melts into putty at the sight of Leo curled up in dad’s armchair with Gio nestled cozily on his plastron, the two of them nearly nose to nose and tucked under the cover of the family-favorite quilt. 

If Leo’s tired, it doesn’t show. It’s hard to tell with him even on a good day. But his smile is one of the crooked, sincere ones. 

“It’s nice of you to give me the chance to turn the tables.” Leo pokes one of the spots on Gio’s face. “I get to be the one that helps you out for a change.”

Gio asks something with his hands. Raph can’t see clearly enough from this angle to make out more than just the little question mark wiggle at the end. It makes Leo laugh, warm and golden, spilling light as easily as the glow from the lamp pours into the hallway. 

“Are you kidding? My big brother Georgie is a professional monster-slayer. I learned all my moves from the best.”

Gio doesn’t say or sign anything else—he just considers that statement with a gravity ten times his current age, visibly working it around in his head the way he’d work a jawbreaker around in his mouth. Then he carefully tucks himself under Leo’s chin, one small hand clinging to the long tails of Leo’s mask. 

He doesn’t look like he’s going to fall asleep again, even when Leo starts to hum a song by The Cranberries. He looks more like he’s prepared to soldier awake through the next hundred hours in a row if it means more time to absorb a hug and a song from someone happy to hold him and sing to him. Gio’s big dark eyes stay stubbornly open, even when Leo scritches along the scutes of his tiny spotted carapace, a tried and true tactic to put baby bothers to sleep. 

A riot of tenderness in his chest that only smaller turtles can put there, Raph turns on his heel and takes himself into the kitchen. It’s hot chocolate o’clock. He wonders for a split-second if he should be concerned about Gio’s sugar intake, and then immediately decides that that sweet kid deserves all the spoiling they can manage to pack into however many days they get to have him. 

When Raphael pushes past the noren-style curtains into the kitchen, he’s surprised to find Mikey there already, wide-awake—staunchly proving Leo right about being up with the sun like the bumblebees. 

Only Raph’s little sunshine isn’t very bright this early morning. Mikey is staring hard at his hands, brushing softened butter over rolled-out dough and rubbing a mix of cinnamon and brown sugar on top of that. He must see Raphael in his periphery—or at the very least sense him with the not-unremarkable perception of someone who is all at once a living weapon, trained ninja, and student of mystic arts—but he doesn’t look up or offer a cheerful, cheeky greeting. There is a distinct downward tuck to the corners of his mouth, firmly unsmiling. 

“Hey, kid,” Raph says, watching him as he collects mugs from the cabinet, “everything okay?”

“Uh, no,” Mikey replies sardonically, as if it’s an obvious answer. He battles with himself for all of two seconds before blurting, “I’m not stupid, Raph.” 

Raph has no idea what he’s just walked into, but it doesn’t feel like he’s dealing with a grumpy turtle who woke up on the wrong side of the hammock. There’s a level of real hurt in Mikey’s voice that has all of Raph’s protective instincts rearing their collective head. 

“Nobody said you were stupid,” he says immediately. “You’re everyone’s favorite person. Wars have been waged for less. What’s going on?”

Mikey’s frown deepens, pure upset in his bright red eyes. He moves onto rolling the dough into a tube and continues to pointedly not look at Raph. 

“I keep thinking about the other day. The scars on Gio’s hands that upset you and Leo so much. I didn’t piece it together right away, but I’m not stupid. If Donnie’s tracker that he put on Gio when he was nineteen disappeared, Gio’s scars from then would have gone, too. But they’re still there, because they were there when he was a baby. Someone hurt him. Over and over, until it left a mark.” 

He stops, brow furrowing, face screwing up the way it only does when he’s trying to act older than his age—usually when he’s trying not to cry. 

“And he’s so thin. What the hell. We need more food than humans our age do, we burn through calories like crazy, and I bet—he was probably always hungry, he probably never got to feel full, and that’s not fair. And it’s just another thing that he carries around with him. And none of us ever noticed, because it was already a part of him when we first met.”

The tears finally burn their way out of Mikey’s eyes, dripping down his cheeks. He glares hard at the dough as he portions it into rolls, the set of his jaw daring Raph to comment. 

Raph circles around the island to put a hand on Mikey’s carapace, unable to bear the space of the counter between them for a second longer. When it doesn’t cause the smaller turtle to snap, Raph rubs those sunny patterned scutes the way he can remember doing from as far back as five years old. 

“It’s not fair,” Mikey says again in a voice that wobbles. “He doesn’t tell us stuff. And it wouldn’t matter even if he did ‘cause we couldn’t fix it anyway.”

“We are fixing it,” Raph says, knowing it’s true in his blood and his bones. “You’re fixing it, by doing exactly what you do every day. By doing this,” he adds, tapping the corner of the baking pan that the dough rolls are being nestled into, a just-because little kindness that comes to Michelangelo as easy as breathing. “It means the world to him, Mike. You know it does.”

Mikey rubs his face dry on the inside of the collar of his hoodie, takes a deep breath while he’s still hidden, then pops out and declares, “He deserves it!”

“Hell yeah he does,” Raph rumbles back. 

The rolls are covered and left to rise and the counter is wiped down, utensils and dishes moved to the sink. Then Mikey squares his shoulders and summons a smile. It’s a good one, huge and toothy and dimpled. He’s dredging up that familiar force-of-nature optimism—less naivety and more plain willingness to wrestle the world into the shape he wants it to take one impossible hurdle at a time. 

He spares a moment to shove himself forward into Raph’s arms for a squeeze, and then swings around the island to shoot for the living room at full speed, shouting, “Are we turtle piling?”

“‘Morning, bumblebee,” Raph hears Leo say affectionately. “Hey, Gigi, you think there’s room for Mikey in here?”

“Always room for Mikey,” Gio’s little voice answers clearly. From the way he starts to giggle at the same time Leo lets out a theatrical oof, it must have been all the encouragement Mikey needed to dive right in. 

Their overlapping chatter keeps Raphael company as he heats enough milk to fill four mugs. He isn’t going to go crazy and make the from-scratch stuff on the stove the way Mikey finds any reason to, but he’ll add a dash of cinnamon and vanilla extract to the instant mix the way dad always did when they were kids. And he puts an ice cube in Gio’s, knowing the little gremlin is going to go in for a scalding gulp at the first whiff of chocolate. It’s the work of less than ten minutes, and most of that time is spent waiting on the microwave.

Raph’s fingers are too big for the mug handles, but big enough to comfortably carry all four at once into the living room. He doesn’t so much distribute them as he does hold out his hands and wait for smaller ones to reach out and extract their color-coded drink. 

“Ooh, thanks Raphie!” Mikey says. 

“We’re gonna have to eat raw carrots for lunch at this rate,” Leo says, wrapping both hands around his mug to better absorb the warmth. “Don’t think I didn’t clock the butter and sugar on your sleeve, Michael.”

“Aw, what?” Mikey says, leaning out of the turtle pile enough to check the sleeve in question. He puffs out his cheeks when he finds the stain near his elbow. “Whatever! It’s all for the cause! I’m making cinnamon rolls for my favorite cinnamon roll,” he goes on, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s tiny one.

“Me?” says Gio.

“Of course you,” Leo scoffs playfully. “You see any other cinnamon rolls around here?”

Gio’s eyes are huge and deep and watchful. His mug looks laughably big in his hands. He says, “Your favorite?”

“My favorite ever of all time,” Mikey says, utterly serious. He even means it—all of his siblings are his absolute favorite sibling. 

“Really?” Gio checks in a quiet voice. He ducks a little bit, shoulders curling, as if he’s waiting for them to lose their tempers over all the repeated questions, every inch a little turtle weighing the pros and cons of hiding inside his shell. 

“Really really,” Raph answers right away. 

“Even though I’m a brat?” Gio asks. 

Leo goes so still in Raphael’s periphery that he might as well be carved from stone. Mikey is more obvious about his upset, sucking in a sharp breath that hisses through his teeth. Raph’s last drink of hot cocoa feels blistering as it makes his way down his throat, the rest of him abruptly and absurdly cold. 

“You are not a brat,” Leo says with as much feeling as when he said I missed on purpose. 

“Who said that to you?” Raph asks carefully. 

“Everybody,” Gio says. It would sound matter-of-fact coming from anyone else. It still hurts like a knife to the chest. Especially because Gio’s mouth turns down, and his eyes fall to land in the lukewarm chocolate he isn’t drinking anymore, and he says, “I want to be your favorite Gio instead.”

“You are!” Mikey chokes out, practically a shout, and he doesn’t need the warning look Leo gives him over the top of Gio’s head to know better. He bites the inside of his lip until he’s certain he can control his volume and says, “Don’t you listen to anybody else! You’re our big brother and you’re brave and cool and kind and smart, and we love you so much!” 

Gio doesn’t immediately break into a smile at that, which should have been the first red flag. 

It should have been one of several clues that Raph has been too slow to put together into the obvious picture. Giorgio isn’t a secretive child—he isn’t even really a secretive person at twenty, as mysterious as a plain brick wall—but he speaks so sparingly that it’s hard to gauge when he doesn’t have anything to say, and when he’s doing his best to talk around something that will hurt him. 

Later, Raph will kick himself for not catching it. Gio has been asking over and over what the other Gio is like—the big Gio. The better Gio. He’s been absorbing everything they’ve had to say with a serious little face and a downturned mouth, assimilating the information into his understanding of his place in their family. 

Of course all of that would lead to the place that it does.

Donatello had felt a type of way about finding out he had incidentally been excluded from impromptu early-morning turtle piles and seized custody of their baby brother for the rest of the day in comeuppance. So Gio should have been tucked away in the genius’ bedroom for an afternoon nap, but instead he was wide awake and peeking through Raph’s door.

Gio hugs a teddy bear as big as he is to his stomach, looking up at the much larger turtle with careful, worried eyes, and asks, “When I’m the brother you like again, will Raphie still hug me?”

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

Nublar Six sleeping headcanons

ironically, written as i avoid sleeping :)

thank you to @throneofrayllum for helping me with these ideas :D

nightmare headcanons here

Darius:

gets a solid seven hours of sleep. he would get less but mama Bowman put parental controls on his devices so he wouldn’t spend the whole night playing a video game

post nublar he gets more like eight or nine. he knows how being sleep deprived can mess up functioning and he doesn’t want to go through that again

plus his nightmares are pretty infrequent in comparison to some of the others

falls asleep in about half an hour

sleeps with a dino stuffie

usually leaves the windows shut because the sound of the city disturbs him, but when he lives in his woods cabin in chaos theory, the windows are open because the sound of the forest is so soothing

puts on a quiet cd of a dinosaur podcast or lofi beats to help him sleep

side sleeper

gets cold very easily, and Brooklynn is very warming to cling to

the little spoon with Brooklynn half the time, the big spoon the other half

Brooklynn:

very erratic sleep schedule. pulls three all nighters in a row and then sleeps more than 12 hours the next day

takes her about an hour to fall asleep because she has a bad habit of using her phone right before bed (which you should not do btw, especially without a nightlight and lowered brightness. fun fact about me, my devices are always on nightlight; the blue light physically hurts my eyes otherwise)

sometimes the N6 have to bully her into sleeping. they once started a petition to get Brooklynn to sleep more and they got her dads, and all their parents/siblings etc to sign it. Dave, Roxie and Mae even got in on the action, and Brooklynn promised she’d get more consistent sleep

gets hot very easily, and Darius is very cooling to cling to

side sleeper. curls up like a baby animal

her and Darius slot together like two spoons. it’s adorable.

Sammy:

gets 7–8 hours

takes her about fifteen minutes to fall asleep

literally smiling when she sleeps

always has a window open to sleep, unless it’s literally freezing

still sleeps with stuffies (she missed them on nublar); they take up as much space on the bed as her

back sleeper but moves around a lot. kicks her stuffies off the bed and then wakes up in the middle of the night to rescue them (literally me)

warm sleeper; wears only a tank top and shorts and ends up kicking the sheets off her

when she’s older, she and Yaz would 100% cuddle together to sleep. she loves falling asleep in her girlfriend’s arms

Yaz:

very strict on having eight hours of sleep. having good sleep is good for one’s health and fitness after all

takes her about an hour to fall asleep (autism sleeping difficulties core)

only sleeps with windows open at Sammy’s ranch because it’s lovely and quiet and the nature sounds soothe her

post nublar, she struggled a lot with sleep because of her nightmares and sometimes crawled into bed with her mum or dragged her bedding and slept on the floor near her

has a comfort toy only her mum and the nublar six know about that she still sleeps with

cold sleeper; wears slipper socks to bed (the freak /j)

when she’s older and her and Sammy sleep together, she’s usually awake by the time Sammy’s fallen asleep, and she loves that the last thing she does in a day is just hold and cherish her lover

Kenji:

gets 5–6 hours

takes him 5 minutes max to fall asleep (unless something is on his mind)

would never open a window when he’s sleeping, have you even considered the bugs that could come in through the window

does Not like sleeping alone. his thoughts get too loud and he ends up pacing around wherever he’s sleeping instead of actually sleeping (adhd core)

post nublar, he shared a room with Darius for the first two years

front sleeper. sprawls out like a starfish

is very happy to nap on someone’s Ben’s chest

usually curls up small when he’s having a nightmare or if he’s upset

cold sleeper. needs several blankets or his boyfriend Ben to stay warm

drools

once he’s asleep he’s out like a light. he once slept through a fire alarm before

the little spoon

Ben:

used to keep a very regular ten hours of sleep; anything less is bad for your health!

post nublar, he gets three hours at most

takes about an hour to fall asleep unless he’s like. very sleep deprived, in which case he can fall asleep in under two minutes regardless of where he is

he does that thing where he pretends to go to sleep and turns off his lights and gets into his pyjamas, but then spends five hours on conspiracy theories or just scrolling

he’s so not used to sleeping alone; he sleeps in his mum’s room for the first few weeks they’re off nublar

all of the nublar six are used to sleeping in the weirdest positions, but Ben can literally fall asleep in any position. it’s kind of disturbing actually

the hottest of sleepers. he is like a furnace. Kenji loves it

moves around a lot. he’ll wake up half on the floor, legs tangled in the duvet, his head apparently using a book as a pillow, all his cushions on the floor

the one thing that will keep him somewhat still is having deep pressure from someone Kenji literally lying on him

the big spoon

[viktorarcanedeservesbetter]

Drabble Request from ao3: post canon jayvik, fluffy? maybe a day in the life? maybe with a focus on their bodies and how they get around (loved your last Drabble)

When Viktor wakes up, he knows it's going to be one of those days.

The kind of day where even if he takes his medication, his leg will simply not cooperate with him, nor will his lower back and hips. So, turning in bed, frowning when his left leg ends up tanged in his right, he reaches for his pill container, pours out two pills, and dry-swallows them.

Beside him, Jayce, who'd been awake for some time it seemed, stretched, pulling him into his side when he was sure Viktor was alright to move without choking. Sighing, he rests his head on Jayce's chest, ear over the bigger man's heart, and tries to level his own rate with Jayce's.

"One of those days?" Jayce asks, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, me too. Knee is killing me, woke me up about an hour ago. Took my meds and wrapped it."

"It is likely the cold rain," Viktor replied, trailing his fingers up and down Jayce's arm. "But I think I overdid it yesterday. I lifted a lot more than I should. And you don't need to say-"

"I did tell you," his partner replied, less teasing, more warm. "But I get it. We needed that project done before the weekend. I just wish we were able to spread it out longer, but Peter loved it either way."

Viktor hummed as he angled his head up to meet Jayce's eyes. "Quite the good pay, as well. We can finally afford the new headboard and have enough left over for a new gate on the farm. I am sure if we do not replace it soon, the girls will get out, and we will be playing 'wrangle the animals' for a week."

Laughing, Jayce sat up, helping Viktor to adjust on the pillows. "I'm sure Callie would do a good job of herding them back. It is in her DNA."

"Callie would attempt to herd them all back, but the minute Jollie moos at her even slightly menacing, she's running home, tail between her legs, quite literally."

"She's sensitive!"

"She's insane. No wonder they let us have her for free. Perhaps the farmer knew she'd be the shyest herd dog in existence."

Jayce snorted as he slipped out of bed, reaching for his own brace and slipping it on. Viktor watched, eyes softening, as Jayce tightened the straps and stood, a little unsteady. He felt awful for Jayce, going through what Viktor himself had lived with, even if Jayce had taken it in stride.

Well, he felt more awful that Jayce had gone through it alone, traumatically. At least Viktor was born with his-he never knew what 'normal' was. Jayce knew loss, knew the difference, and even if he was okay with it-Viktor still felt bad.

"You need yours today?" Jayce held up Viktor's brace, the one they'd remade together once they got settled in the town. It was much like his old one, still with the foot and hip support, but Viktor shook his head. They had nothing to do today, not with the rain pouring outside. "You sure?"

"I'll just use the bandages," Viktor replied, reaching into the side table and pulling out a spool of fabric. "Can you-"

"On it."

Before walking out the door, Jayce smiled at him, leaning to press a kiss into his hair. Viktor hummed, happy, and his eyes followed Jayce out their bedroom door-expanded to accommodate his wheelchair, same as the rest of their doorways-and moved back to his leg.

With all the strength and coordination he could muster with his pain meds barely kicked in, he lifted his leg and slid a pillow under it, keeping it propped as he unspooled the bandages. Practiced, he began to wrap his leg from the thigh down, enough pressure to provide some stability without cutting off blood supply.

As he worked on supporting his leg, there was a sound of soft scratching, a leaping bound off wood, and suddenly a weight behind his back, purring loud. "Oh," he smiled, finishing wrapping the end on his ankle. "Hello, Rio."

The tabby purred as she came around, rubbing against his thigh, and crawled into his lap. "I was wondering where you were."

Following, as always, was Callie, panting heavily as her paws clicked against the floor. She jumped up enough to place her front paws on the bed, huffing until Viktor was able to lean enough to scratch behind her ears. The Collie's tail wagged at the touch, and increased in speed as Rio crawled off Viktor's lap and began rubbing her body and face against Callie's snout.

"I am glad both of you get along," Viktor said, using his arms to push his body towards the side of the bed. Callie moved to accommodate him as he was able to push his left leg over with ease, and moved the right leg-again, using his hands-over as well. Rio leapt off the bed, still purring, and onto the side table, as routine. "I have heard the saying about cats and dogs."

"Yeah, I think they're the exception to the rule," Jayce said, pushing in his wheelchair as Callie moved away. Both animals knew the routine by now-likely due to being raised around them-and waited patiently. Viktor could tell, though, that Callie was eager to get the day started, her front paws tapping back and forth in excitement. "My family's cat, Peter, hated my turtle."

Viktor snorted as Jayce pushed the chair closer, angling it on the side so Viktor could ready himself. "I think your cat Peter hated everyone though, no? All the stories you've told me..." He trailed off, hands and arms strong as he reached for the armrests. In a steady motion, he pushed himself up, holding most of his weight in his biceps and left leg, and settled into the chair. "I think that cat of yours hated life, Jayce."

He grinned as Jayce rolled his eyes, undoing the breaks of the chair, and allowing Viktor to roll past him. "Peter liked my Ma and that was it. He hated everyone who wasn't her, though I'm sure he would have at least tolerated you, since all animals love you." As if to corroborate that sentence, Rio leapt from her perch and onto Viktor's lap, chirping as she soared through the air. "See? They go where you go."

Viktor shrugged. "The animals like you too, Jayce. It is just that you are very big, so you can be intimidating to small creatures."

"Oh, whatever. I think you just have something special that makes all animals, even the grumpy ones, like you. Remember John's bull? He said it hated everyone, yet when we went to go get Jolli and Jamie, it walked right up to you, mooed, and let you pet it for ten minutes before it walked away."

True.

Viktor pushed into the kitchen, reaching for the coffeepot, and pressed start. Even though they'd stayed up late and hadn't cleaned up, there was one thing neither of them forgot, and it was readying the coffee for the morning. It was something small that made their days easier.

Next to him, Jayce reached for his own cane, a thinner, simple design. His knee must be bothering him, Viktor thought. Jayce didn't typically use a cane daily, only brought it out in emergencies at home and only packed it when they went out for the day. Damn the rain-it made both of them sore in their bones too often.

Plus, they had been hard at work.

"I think we should do breakfast here," Jayce said, reaching for the egg basket and examining one of them in his free hand, the other steady on his support. "It's pretty dark out now-usually means the storms going to be bad all day. I went ahead and sent a message to John and Felix next door-Felix is going to stop by the farm and make sure all the animals are good."

"Oh, that's good," Viktor handed over a mug. "I do not think that I can make it out there today-not until we get that path fully paved or the other chair with the adaptive wheels."

Jayce took the mug with a smile. "Same here. I don't want to take a bad slip out there, and my outdoor cane still needs some tune-ups before I feel good in this type of weather. Felix needs the volunteer hours anyways, so he'll stop by and we can sign him for about two to four, depending on what he needs to do."

"Good."

They fell into comfortable silence as they began prepping breakfast, calm against the raging storm outside. Callie found herself interested with a few toys from her basket, as Rio continued to lay in Viktor's lap, a comforting weight. Though Viktor could still feel the twinges of pain in his spine and leg, and knew from Jayce's tiny expressions as he moved that his partner was feeling worse for wear too, Viktor knew everything would be alright.

They had each other, they knew what the other needed, so everything, as far as Viktor could ever hope for, was perfect.

With Jayce, it always would be.

[furinfry]

How do you think Sakura will get very strong and become a top tier fighter like Endo and chika ? Do you think that Sakura needs power up or training arc ? 🤔

I talked on my thoughts on Sakura getting 'powerups' towards becoming a stronger fighter in this post previously, but overall my take is that I see Sakura as already BEING very strong and I don't think he needs to have his individual strength/skills get a "power up". His ability as a fighter (especially given that he's still just a first year) was more or less what got Endo's attention in the first place. But, the whole point of the series is that it is empty and meaningless to only care about power or fighting (once again tapping the "Is he actually a good fighter?" "Is that the only thing that matters to you?" sign). For many of Furin, their purpose wasn't even to be a good fighter in the way that Sakura believed was his own desire in the beginning (when he didn't know he didn't have to be alone); To many of our other beloved characters also in Bofurin, they had to learn how to fight and defend themselves because the world around them was cruel and wouldn't just let them (or people they loved) exist peacefully (rather... topical given current real life events).

As such, I think Sakura's personal growth is more towards him becoming this leading figure who brings together ALL the outcasts together. Who makes sure that everyone he meets knows that they will always have someone in their corner, and it will be Sakura. He wants to be able to be there not just for Furin, but for Shishitoren, Gravel, Roppo Ichiza, maybe even other gangs that will still be introduced as time goes on (I'd be so fascinated to see if any other members of Noroshi outside of Endo come back).

I don't think Sakura is going to become a fighter like Endo, or Chika, or even like Umemiya, and I would even be surprised if we got a full 'training arc' that goes beyond just the short training moments/montages we've gotten so far around the big fights. What I do think we're going to see is Sakura growing as a team fighter. Someone who doesn't fight alone, but someone who can really know his allies as well as their opponents. To become super perceptive of others' strengths, weaknesses, and know how to fight with his allies to become an unstoppable force. I think we're going to get Sakura become stronger through him learning and growing in more fights like him fighting alongside Sugishita in the Noroshi war arc.

^This is the direction I believe Sakura's growth as a fighter is going to continue to develop. Perhaps I will be proven wrong, but I really don't see too much focus being given to how well Sakura can fight independently anymore. I think it'll MUCH more be on how well he can fight side by side with others. Which is something I'm SO looking forward to, because we've already seen AMAZING choreographed partner/group fights such as the Sakaki brothers, and when Tsubaki and Kanji team up with others. (So many of the Noroshi War fights are going to go SO HARD if/when they get animated. Those fights are going to be SPECTACULAR)

[bloodied-blossom]

Hi! I find ur writing extremely sweet, so if it wouldn’t be too much of a problem could I please request something with V? Perhaps being married fluff kind of thing, only if it’s okay with you though <3

Another one? Could we keep it? Please!

1.9k Words; V x Reader

(REQUEST!)

Killer Chat! Fanfic

Small Spoiler for V's FIRST NAME!

You and V have been together for years, and married for a few less. And of course, you both are big animal people. So it's no surprise your husband comes home with something wrapped in a blanket... drenched.

{THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST! ENJOY!}

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

It’s hard to believe it’s been years since you got roped into this weird serial killer server. It was something you still couldn’t wrap your head around.

You met a handful of wonderful people you call friends to this day… Most importantly, your husband. Crazy right? Out of all the people you thought you’d fall in love with and marry, your last thought was some righteous serial killer with an affinity with saving injured animals... or animals in general.

Valentin. You met him on the server under the alias of K9. And bothering him became the highlight of your time there. You couldn’t help yourself, fondly remembering every voice call that you had him stammering, every banter between the two of you as he believed you, too, were a ruthless killer.

Everything eased over once you finally got him to believe what had really happened, that you really were just a writer with a dream, and from then? You’ve had the most comfortable, loving relationship you personally have ever experienced. He was gentle with his words, he would gift you anything you wanted, and you never took advantage.

And soon enough? You finally decided you wanted to pop the question. Dating him for over four years really made you realize that he was the one you wanted. You had both adjusted to each other perfectly, and you’ve grown small habits that you never shared with anyone but him.

With all this in mind? You asked him to marry you. You set up something small, walking through a park with him and recounting previous dates you had there. It was personally your favorite place, and you could tell he loved it just as much as you did. Reaching the spot where you had your first date, a secluded flower patch covered by bushes, you sat down, pulling him beside you.

Seeing Valentin stare at you with such content eyes, his body relaxed. You knew you had to ask him now, or risk waiting longer.

And he said yes.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Now living together, you have had to get used to more of his strange habits, and he had to deal with yours. Living with someone else was not the easiest, but you didn’t mind it. For love, you remind yourself. For the man you grew to love so dearly.

Currently, you were sitting on your shared bed, scrolling through your phone. It was raining heavily outside, and you hoped your husband had remembered to bring an umbrella with him. V had gone out earlier that day to run a few errands, and you lazing about was your way of waiting for him to come back.

It started pouring around thirty minutes ago, and that made you worry. You were about to call V, but before you could, he walked in holding something wrapped in a small blanket. He was drenched.

As you thought. He had both forgotten an umbrella and found a poor unassuming stray that was kidnapped by his hands. You let out a small chuckle, getting up and walking up to him, wiping his face with your sleeve.

“I… could explain-” he started, but you stopped him with a small kiss.

“You better start talking then.” You tried to sound upset, but the grin on your face gave you away.

He smiled softly at you, holding the blanket close as he stepped over to your bathroom, dripping water with every step. “This runt was all alone, getting soaked by the rain. If I hadn’t saved it, it likely wouldn’t have survived. No mother, no collar, and no shelter.”

Valentin spoke softly, cradling it close as he sat down in the shower. You had moved to your towel warmer, picking up three towels. One for him to wrap the animal in, and two for him to dry off. He quietly thanked you, swapping the animal’s towel immediately, clearly not interested in drying himself off.

“So~ What was it this time? A cat? Puppy?” you said curiously, taking the initiative to start drying his hair carefully.

Valentin hesitated, shaking his head. “It’s a bunny.”

You froze, eyes widening. “There’s no way, we never see bunnies around here!” you exclaimed, moving to sit in front of him, both of you now staring at the towel. He unwrapped it carefully, watching with a smile as the little bunny squirmed free.

“You can hold it. But please, do be gentle with it.” He spoke softly, holding it out to you carefully. You nodded, quickly cupping your hands and taking it. It was so tiny, it fit in your hands perfectly. It rubbed its snout against your thumb, small squeals coming from it. Your heart melted.

“Valentin… can we?.” You asked, hesitant. He loved animals, sure, and you already had a bunch of pets. You wanted to keep the bunny, though. Something about it just made your heart swell.

He tore his eyes away from the rabbit, starting to dry himself off as he thought. “It… would be another animal we’d have to care for. It’s not like money is the issue, though its habitat and environment is demanding… Are you sure you’d want to take care of it?” Valentin looked up at you, a small smile on his lips as you nodded.

“I’ll take the best care of it! I promise! Just please! Can we keep it?” you pleaded, holding the bunny close to your face and rubbing your cheek against it. This rabbit was too damn cute for you to just let go of.

Valentin let out a laugh at that, taking off his doused coat. “Alright.. If you could take it to the room and hold onto it for a little while… I’ll shower quickly and we can determine how to go about this after. Alright?”

You gasped, carefully hugging V with the bunny still in your hands, kissing him over and over from his forehead to cheek. He sat there holding you, his heart melting at the sight of you so happy. “Thank you thank you thank you!” You quickly moved from him, hugging the bunny close to your chest as you stood up.

“Of course, dove… Now, go keep it warm.” He said softly, standing up and unbuttoning his shirt.

And as MUCH as you would love to sit there and gawk at your husband, you have a new pet to tend to. You sadly tore your eyes away from him and left the bathroom, walking back over to your bed and sitting down.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You hear the shower start over the pouring rain outside, a small smile on your face. Years of knowing him, years of this… and it still brings that same warmth to your heart. You lay back against your headboard, softly petting the now snoozing bunny in your hands.

Valentin is the best thing that has ever happened to you. The best person you’ve ever accidentally met. You love him… and you know he loves you…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Soon, you hear the water stop running. Minutes pass before your husband finally steps out from the bathroom, wearing a black robe. The one you had bought for him a while back. GOD YOU WERE SO LUCKY TO BE MARRIED TO THIS MAN.

You felt your cheeks flush as you sat up, patting the spot next to you. He smiled and sat beside you. Not a care in the world that his hair was still wet. Valentin moved closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist while his other reached to pet the bunny.

“I believe it’s a girl…” he said softly, leaning against you. You felt water drip against your shirt, but you didn’t mind. “Oh yeah? Can I get her a little bow then?” you joked, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He let out a gentle laugh, nodding. “Well, she’s yours now, so if it pleases you… dress her up as you wish.” He placed a soft kiss to the side of your head before taking the bunny from your hands.

“We’ll need a temporary place to keep her until we can go out and buy her a pen… Where do you think we should keep her?” He asked, softly petting her while looking at you. You thought for a moment, rubbing the back of your neck. “I could alwaysss… make her a little house out of an old cardboard box?... I-It’s temporary of course and I have some blankets i’m not using anymore… just until the rain slows down..” You stammered, a little embarrassed that a cardboard box was your first and ONLY idea. But Valentin only nodded, his smile widening.

“I think she’ll love it… it’ll be made by you, after all..”

His words made your face heat up even more, you had to look away. You heard him hold back a laugh, clearly amused by your reaction. “Come now, surely that’s not what gets you ticking..” You felt his finger poke your cheek and you couldn’t stop yourself from flopping over onto your side and curling up like a disturbed millipede.

“V-Valentin come on… Stop teasin- OH WAIT!” You shot up quickly, startling your husband. He moved back a bit, a confused look plastered on his face.

“What a switch up…” he muttered, his smile returning. “What is it now, dearest?” he questioned, setting the bunny down on his lap.

You moved back beside him, pointing to the bunny. “What are we gonna name her?”

. . .

The silence between you both was so fucking loud.

Valentin stared at the bunny, biting his lip… he was NOT good with names. And neither were you. He cleared his throat, looking up towards the ceiling. “We’ll… think of that later.”

“Valentin.” you prodded, narrowing your eyes.

“Do you have a name? Because I can tell you right now, I do not have any good names.” He muttered, shooting you a knowing look.

“Well- you could at least try to think of one! I best I could!" You defended… and all you got was silence and a look of disbelief.

You scoffed, turning away as you racked your brain for a name… and before you could even think about it, you blurted out. “Fluffy-”

. . .

“Fluffy?”

“Y-YEAH BECAUSE SHE’S- SMALL- AND- FLUFFY?” You tried to defend the name, but your stammering and bad excuses only made Valentin burst out laughing, cupping a hand over his mouth.

You watched him find amusement in your poor name ideas, crossing your arms. “Do you have something better?” You huffed out. He shook his head, recovering from his little laughing fit. “N-No. No. I think the name is just fine… you chose it after all, albeit it a bit… unoriginal.” He smiled, softly kissing your cheek.

Damn Valentin… knowing exactly how to keep you from being upset with him.

“Well- then- Fluffy it is…” You spoke quietly, taking the bunny from his lap. He nodded, taking you back into his arms.

“So, now that the name is settled, we should start making her that temporary home so we could rest for a bit, do you not think so?” He asked, now resting his chin on your head. “Yeah… but just a few more minutes like this? This is… nice.” you admitted, melting into his arms.

“Of course..” he whispered softly, kissing the top of your head before leaning against the pillows. With your back pressed against his chest, you quickly got comfortable, shutting your eyes. “I love you, Valentin…”

“I love you too, my dear.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally! I had taken a small break from writing but I am back! So happy to have done this request because I've been dying to write V! This is my first time doing V x Reader, the other times being V x Ronin Lol

I hope you enjoy! I thought finding a bunny would be much cuter than a puppy or kitty, plus I myself am a bunny person!

If you could consider liking and reblogging my work it could help me get some reach! I really love writing these!

Honorary @ this fic would be @venti-fan because I know they'd enjoy this <3. Thank for you reading, leaflet.

NEXT WORK; Ronin x Reader Request!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

[toffee4you]

Recently, I started a binge on "May I Ask For One Final Thing?" (yesterday & today).

I can't say I'm a fan of how the plot and characters are going, and I do not think I could recommend this read, but...

Am I delusional or is this man Silvercore. He's also a knight. Perhaps this is just the fanon Silver that lives in my head. At this point, I'm only really reading for his bits.

Perhaps he's just Silver when the blessing goes away and the face card declines..

Boring rant about the series that has nothing to do with TWST under the cut, spoilers (but unsurprising ones) included. Disclaimer: this is not a very nice rant.

I saw this on a YouTube post of its anime adaptation, and honestly decided to give it a try after reading the synopsis. Seeing Scarlet with spiked gloves was certainly a way to get me anywhere near reading a book with historical and romance in the tags (albeit, comedy was among them).

I see most of these plots go the same way, and I understand it is for people who like them. So I don't read them. However, when it is advertised as something "different from the rest"... Yet it quickly becomes a harem...

I wouldn't mind love triangles if the plot was good, but the majority of the story was injecting men into the plot in such a short amount of chapters, who are all suddenly in love with the MC. I have begun to sigh whenever I see a male who is not blatantly an "NPC" in appearance because, you guessed it, they all get flustered/flirty around MC instantly if they aren't.

Most of the male's personalities seem mediocre at best and annoying at worse. Sigurd (the knight above) and the dragon rider are fine I suppose...? They're also both interested, but the latter is at least typically comedic, especially how he treats the MC.

The main male (who is, very predictably, the first prince) was an entertaining character... Until they gave HIM all the screentime and relationship dibs over everyone else? I don't mind his personality if it's not as a love interest, considering he seemed more like someone who wanted to pester the MC for fun. He never actually sees her outside of "entertainment" because "this world is too boring" for him, and when they are trying to show his care, it's sloppy. I shit you not, his confession was about her bringing entertainment to his world. It sounds sweet, but it wasn't really about her on a personal level, and he even clarifies this... Yet, he becomes THE stereotypical jealous male lead, the MC lets his jealous behavior fly, and you're telling me she finds him the most charming? Even the dragon rider's interest in the MC is about her strength—her main attribute—and he offers to bring her back to his country where he thinks it will suit her better... Not for himself, for her. When he annoys her by not listening, it's not on purpose, but more in a Kalim way. He's outgoing, but spontaneous, and has a tendency to treat everyone in that same way of not listening because he's too busy in another thought process.

Sigurd got his character introduction around the same time as the prince, so I had thought it would at least be between them. Since the MC seemed to hate him less... because Sigurd is genuinely nice while the prince refers to the MC as a specimen/toy... I also made the mistake of thinking he would be one of the main male leads. He disappears for most of the time instead, and they keep adding so many more male love interests to the MC's collection that it becomes more difficult for him to even get on the screen. What's the purpose in everyone being a male love interest when the role becomes oversaturated? There's no real tension or interesting dynamics that rely on them being attracted, and it distracts from others who could possibly be good love interests. It's one of the reasons I avoid the romance genre, but I had, for some reason, expected this story to be different. Once again, the advertisement had be convinced that the MC would focus more on herself and the males would be a side plot... But they're basically imbued to the storyline. I would also like to mention that there are two separate interests where a brother is attracted to his sister, and the MC is included in one of those (in a bonus story chapter where she accidentally feeds everyone the wrong ingredient and they go through the usual trope of having flirty personalities for fanservice, you know the deal).

The story itself isn't bad. Sometimes, I feel bored or the logic is bad, but for its genre, it had more layers than usual. Not enough to stick around for, with everything else they did to this story. Honestly, the bonus chapters about the MC's kickass mentor teaching her was more interesting. Another big issue with this story is that the MC's entire personality boils down to "I want to beat people up." They occasionally sprinkle other things into her personality... But when, every chapter, you have to tell me this same line? I lose interest. I wanted an MC who can fight but still is a person, not just trying to prove they can overpower everything. At least, if you want your MC to immediately overpower everything (which I was fine with for the first 2 battles), make the plot less about the actual fights. Do something like Mashle, lean more towards the comedy and make it ridiculous rather than borderline edgy. It's a distinct difference from making an overpowered MC so no one can defeat her versus making an overpowered MC as a joke. One is intended to be taken seriously but is so half-assed that you feel exhausted, the other is meant to laugh at.

The only exception to everything above is one character. They call him 707. 7% screentime, 0 romantic interest (so far), 7% personality (due of his lack of screentime).

*Extra.

I had streamed this to my friend the entire time, and it was not only me who was severely disappointed this was also a male. After nerfing his appearance to make him look boyish, he joins The Collection™.

Thankfully it's not 100 chapters from what I see, so I will likely finish it to end it all.

[angelic-waffles]

White Hot Rage

Word count 1K. Rated teen for minor violence and swearing.

Summary: The island is behind them, but sometimes it feels like they never left. Simon’s trying to relax a bit, it’s kind of hard at the hospital he and the other boys have been placed in for now. So, he decided some reading might be nice. Then he hears Jack’s voice, acting like nothing’s happened.

Also posted on AO3 (preferred layout)

It was unusually cold for spring. Which, for the first time made Simon glad for being in the hospital with all the other boys.

He clutched his sweater a bit more flush to him. They had free time now, and while the other boys had chosen to play in their small cliques, Simon needed some time alone. He’d read, he decided, grabbing a copy of Catcher in the Rye -Ralph and Peter had told him about it, he couldn’t remember exactly what it was about, only that the two older boys adored it- and sit in a quiet enough corner.

“Simon!”

The shrill voice cut him like a knife. His arms tightening unwillingly.

“Come over here,” Jack ordered with a smile. A kind of crooked smile that confused you, a kind that felt less comforting than a glare, and made you wonder what the behind it.

Despite it all, Simon felt his legs move, almost on autopilot, “Erm,” he swallowed harshly, “Yes?”

Jack stared. That same smile plastered on his face in a lame attempt at camaraderie.

“Just dropping by, couldn’t find you.”

Jack closed the gap of space, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as an old friend would. Though, they were old friends, Simon supposed.

He took a breath to try and contain composure, “Do you need anything?” Doing his best to not let his fear seep through. Keep civil.

Jack let out a lone laugh, answering playfully, like it was nothing, just small conversation, “Do I need a reason to want to see my old mate?”

Simon stood there dumbly, “Do,” The words felt caught in his jaw, “Do you need anything?”

His tongue clicked, “Well,” he let go of Simon’s arm, and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, “My mum gave me some old sheet last visit. The piece sounds horrific alone. Thought we could do it together, for old time’s sake, you know?”

Simon blinked, he tried his best to not meet Jacks gaze. “Sorry,” He twisted his face into an approximation of a smile, “I’m just, tired. Really, really tired. Maybe you could do it with Roger? I know you two are good friends.”

Jack frowned, “me and Roger, were both first tenors. Our voices are too similar, it defeats the purpose of even having two parts.”

“I’m a tenor too, we all are.”

“Yeah but you’re a tenor two. Your voice is a little deeper, the contrast is better.”

Simon’s grin started to falter. He started playing with his sleeves subconsciously, the corners of his mouth twitching. He tried to think of what to do, what to say, but his mind was going a thousand miles a minute. His mouth felt too dry all of a sudden. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to vomit. His head was going to explode.

“Sorry,” He forced another polite, toothy grin, “I have to go.”

He turned as fast as he could. His blood was rushing in his ears. He wanted to run but he knew he couldn’t. If Simon ran he’d notice. He was like some kind of animal. He’d smell his fear, he’d strike once he did just because he could. Simon was some kind of mouse. He was fragile. An easy target, and as he dragged his feet down the hall, he knew that information. It was as ever present and real or true as the motion of the earth or the clouds in the sky.

“Oh come on Simon, we’re friends.”

Everything felt dizzy.

“Talk to me!”

One foot in front of the other.

“Don’t be such a girl about it.”

Ignore him.

“Oh come on. What do you think I’m gonna do?”

Simon froze in place. He wouldn’t.

Jacks steps came closer, and Simon couldn’t move. Jack’s voice was dangerously close, “What are you scared of?”

He couldn’t. A hand clapped onto Simon’s shoulder.

“Think I’ll take out the other eye?”

He didn’t know how it happened. It felt like he wasn’t even moving, like some omniscient force was puppeteering him, telling him what to do. He felt the harsh slam of his fist into Jacks face, heard the crunch of his nose, smelt the blood. But still, it felt like he wasn’t there. Not really at least. It was like autopilot. Like something greater than him, or maybe in him, taking over.

Like an animals instinct.

“What the fuck Simon?!” Merridew voice rang out as he gripped his nose, “Have you gone completely fucking mad?!”

And lord, maybe he had. But if Simon was the plague, Jack was the rat who caused it. His heart was absolutely pounding. He was going to explode. Christ his heart was going to pound so hard that it’d stop and he’d explode.

He felt himself duck and run at Jack, positioning his head to his stomach and knocking him down.

Simon knew he was making some kind of noise, screaming something, profanity and gibberish and yelling and nothing and he didn’t know what it was. He just beat. And beat. And beat and beat and beat.

There was a white hot rage inside him, burning like coal in a train and keeping his hands going and going and going.

His face was wet and hot and his throat was sore and he just. Couldn’t. Stop. He felt his hands pummel into Jacks face and stomach and neck and arms for everything he did and everything he didn’t.

For treating him like an afterthought, for not even noticing him until he needed something, for speaking over him, for calling him crazy, for that forsaken night. That night where Simon was trying his best. He was trying to save them. He was run rugged from the woods and the starvation and that stupid, stupid pigs head. For making him stay quiet with threats and all his snide comments. And perhaps most of all, for going up to him like nothing bloody happened and trying to fix the gaping wound of their friendship with a used bandaid.

He hated him. And hated, and hated and hated.

He felt the tug of adults on his arms. Holding him back and trying to restrain his small form. His eye was blurred and wild from crying, and everything was a blurry haze. He felt like he was still practically shaking from all of that rage and anger buried and bursting inside of him.

And then he saw.

For the first time in the last few minutes he could see, and lord, he saw.

Jacks bloodied nose, his bruised arms.

Simon wasn’t able to do much damage, all of it would heal soon, but he saw. He looked at Jack in bloody and in vulnerability. And he saw his fault. That feeling of uncontrollable anger gave way and in its place: horror.

For in that moment, Simon knew he’d attacked Jack, truly attacked him, like he’d attacked him. Right then, right there, being pulled away screaming and sobbing, steeped in guilt and shame, Simon knew that in some way, he was now to blame. Simon knew, that truly, he was now the beast.

“I’m sorry.”

[im-being-so-normal-about-this]

Okay Dad AU Post

My partner in crime with this au is @m0d3rnvamp1r3izm but since they posted some art a few days ago I get to do the text post!

Get ready for a crazy long post under the cut

This is kinda just going to go through our basic ideas of like how it came to be and how it might have impacted the storyline:

River has the kid with a semi-serious girlfriend. They obviously weren’t planning to have a kid, but something goes wrong with their protection or the birth control and she ends up pregnant. They don’t want to get married but they also don’t want to give up the baby, so eventually the baby is born and River ends up taking care of it as a single dad.

This takes place pretty early in training, before River meets Spider, but the child is still an infant when they start to become friends.

As Spider and River grow closer, Spider also grows closer with River’s child.

In the beginning, he’s definitely very uncomfortable around it (he’s not really a baby person) but slowly he starts to warm up to the kid and care for it.

Spider and River are dating in this au (or, together in whatever sense feels right for them) and eventually he becomes something of an important presence in the kid’s life.

Spider still goes through with betraying River, as it’s too good of a career opportunity to pass up, but it feels somehow worse. He knows that he’s not just taking away River’s career and reputation, but also his means of providing for his child.

The betrayal also has a few more layers of grief for River

Firstly, he has to hide everything he’s feeling from his child, but it’s pretty hard to do. He tries to stay upbeat and not show his kid that he’s upset, but it’s hard. He often ends up locking himself in a bathroom or a closet just so he can get a quiet place to be sad without worrying his kid.

Secondly, the kid misses Spider too. They ask where he is, and eventually River has to explain that Spider might not have been as frat as they thought. Now he has to contend with his own feelings about the situation and how his child feels.

However, it’s not all sad. Some happy headcanons include:

River dressing the baby up for Halloween (just imagine him holding a baby in a little bear onesie)

Before the betrayal, River proposes he, Spider, and the kid go on a walk and Spider just side eyes it, going “doesn’t it need a leash?”

River packs the kid’s lunch and leaves little notes or drawings on the napkin

The kid tries to do River’s makeup/paint his nails and it ends up terrible (seeing as how they’re like three) and River just sits there and is like “it’s great… I love it…”

The kid wants to have a tea party of some sort, and they force River and Spider to sit on those little kid chairs and talk to stuffed animals with them

Anyway, River and his kid are kinda left alone by Spider up until season 3

(He does end up showing Louisa so many pictures of the kid that she tells him to shut up, though)

However, instead of dying after his run-in with Donovan, Spider survives

His near death experience makes him realize that he has some regrets in his life: namely, that he knows he shouldn’t have betrayed River

It takes him a while to get over his pride, but eventually he finds River and tells him that he’s sorry (in a less heartfelt and more… Spider-y way, but an apology nonetheless)

River is wary about letting Spider back into his and his kid’s life, knowing that if he hasn’t changed it won’t be a good relationship for either of them.

Now that he had a child of his own (a child that, incidentally, looks pretty much like a carbon copy of him) River has realized how messed up his own childhood was. He wants to do better than the adults who were in his life at that time and protect his kid from things he can avoid.

Still, he tentatively decides to give Spider a chance.

They reconnect and, eventually, rekindle their romance. Spider keeps showing up, and he proves to River that he can be trusted.

River decides to bring him back around and reintroduce him to his kid. Though, there’s an obstacle that neither of them anticipated: the kid remembers what Spider did, and he’s not happy that Spider hurt his dad.

Spider goes through the whole process of regaining trust again, expect this time with a grudge-holding five year old.

It takes a while but he finally regains the kid’s trust, and things kinda start to feel like they did before Stansted. It’s not exactly the same (there’s too much history for that) but it feels just as good.

Obviously everything isn’t perfect, but the three of them end up pretty happy.

Anyway there’s definitely more to say but this is kinda the basics and I hope you guys like the idea as much as we do!

[theshiniestgemstone]

Love love loved the latest dad!Gideon fic!! I would love to hear more about little Ruthie and Finn causing chaos around the house if you’re up to it!

“Gideon, go check on your kids,” you uttered as you passed through the living room.

He knew that tone well. It was a worn-out thread in the fabric of your shared parenthood, a thread pulled tight by noise, sugar highs, and too many half-finished cups of coffee.

It was the same tone you’d used yesterday, right after Ruthie had emptied a five-pound bag of flour all over Finn. He’d walked into the kitchen like a baby ghost, beaming, every soft tuft of hair dusted white He walked around paler than Casper, smiling widely. The only feature he could make out was his green eyes. Gideon had spent ten minutes with the leaf blower on low, laughing while Finn squealed with delight.

Last week, that tone had come after Ruthie tied her red wagon to the back of her pink bike using shoelaces and ribbon, determined to drag her brother across the compound to great grandpa Eli’s for lunch. You’d caught them at the driveway, Finn already seated in the wagon with a juice box in hand, ready for departure. He’d pouted the rest of the afternoon after you plucked him out.

Ruthie was a fiercely gentle older sister. She helped with diaper changes and feedings. SShe helped with diaper changes and supervised bottle feedings like a junior nurse, ticking off boxes on the color-coded feeding chart on the fridge. She counted every ounce Finn drank, brow furrowed in concentration as she updated the “milk log.” When she wasn’t playing scientist or doctor, she was spinning wild tales with her dolls, acting out stories to entertain her baby brother, shaking them around with silly voices until Finn burst into giggles. As Finn grew older and less fragile, both of you could tell he adores her. Now that Finn was one and walking, a little sturdier, he shadowed her everywhere. Whatever trouble she brewed, he stirred in without question. The two of them had become a duo of sticky fingers and mismatched socks, tornadoes in human form, dragging messes behind them like storm clouds.

Gideon sighed and pushed up from the couch, joints cracking slightly. He followed the sound of their voices upstairs, already bracing himself for whatever disaster awaited.

“Roo,” Finn said, a chirpy demand from down the hall. “More.”

“You’re right,” Ruthie answered seriously, as if he’d proposed an architectural blueprint. “We should make it taller.”

Gideon reached the landing just in time to see Ruthie hustle across the hallway, disappearing into the master bedroom. A few seconds later, she emerged struggling to carry four bed pillows stacked nearly as high as her head. She had her arms wrapped around them as best she could, waddling slightly under the weight, her determined face barely visible behind the pile.

“Hi, Daddy,” she chirped, breathless but casual, as if she hadn’t just ransacked her parents' bed.

He blinked. “Hey, bug.” Without breaking stride, she turned into her room like a woman on a mission.

He followed her, already spotting the blanket avalanche ahead. Finn was buried in the center of a mountain of bedding, only his little curly head and socked feet visible. He squealed when he saw his dad, clapping once and kicking his legs excitedly.

“What are you guys doing?” Gideon asked, stepping around a stuffed bunny and a discarded juice box.

Ruthie huffed as she adjusted the newest pillows into place beside the pile. “Finn is going to watch me jump off the bed.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bed—it barely came up to Ruthie’s knees. Still, he knew better than to interrupt a performance without gauging the safety.

“Alright,” he said, giving her a nod of approval. “Show us what you got, Roo.”

She grinned and scrambled up onto the mattress, pushing back a line of stuffed animals to make space. Finn sat up a little straighter, his tiara slipping sideways on his head. He reached for his sippy cup like he was settling in for a show.

“Okay, Prince Finn,” Ruthie said, suddenly very serious. “This is how the brave knight crosses the moat.”

She raised both hands dramatically, bent her knees, and launched herself with the determination of a kid who’d watched one too many superhero movies. She landed squarely in the center of the pillows with a muffled whump, arms spread wide like a starfish.

Finn squealed. “Again!”

Ruthie popped her head up. “Did you see that?”

Gideon clapped slowly, giving her a proud nod. “Perfect form. Ten out of ten.”

“Thank you,” she said graciously, crawling out of the heap to reset. “You can try it too if you want.”

He chuckled. “I think I’ll leave the high-stakes stunts to the professionals. Stunt days are behind me."

Finn, meanwhile, had managed to wriggle free of the pillow pile and toddled toward the bed. He slapped his hands against the mattress and tried to climb up, grunting with effort.

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” Gideon said, swooping in just in time to stop him. “You can be the royal audience, remember?”

Finn pouted dramatically, flopping backward onto the floor like a fainting goat.

Ruthie giggled and threw another blanket on him. “He’s the prince in distress now.”

Gideon sat down cross-legged beside them, rubbing his face with one hand, but smiling. “Your mom’s gonna love hearing about this.”

“She said she’s off-duty,” Ruthie reminded him.

“She did say that,” Gideon murmured, more to himself. “Guess that makes me the castle guard, huh?”

“And the wizard,” Ruthie added helpfully, already scaling her bed again. “You have to do magic too.”

“Right. Magic and guarding. No pressure.”

Finn, now completely buried under a fluffy pink throw blanket, yelled out, “Daddy do magic!"

Gideon shook his head. "How about a disappearing spell? Ruth, do not let your brother jump. And you," he pointed at Finn, "naptime in half an hour."

Ruthie gave him a thumbs-up. "Shoo. The dragons comin'," she said, going over to the toy chest for her foam sword.

The rest of the afternoon was full of dramatic yells, some squeals, and a very intricate storyline involving a recently divorced dragon and her kids who need a babysitter. You and Gideon watched from the doorway as Ruthie showed Finn how to cradle a stuffed dragon like a baby.

You nudged his shoulder. "We should put parental controls on the tv. Why is she talking about alimony?"

Gideon smiled. "I think she thinks ‘alimony’ is a type of potion.”

[blacklegsanjienthusiast]

How different is Sanji and Nami’s relationship in the LA? What do you think the writing for their dialogue would be compared to the anime/manga? I’m always so curious about this since we they barely interacted in season 1 and also because people have some very different opinions on this.

their relationship is what i’m most looking forward to seeing in season 2 because they are my favourites by a mile.

i do think the basis of their relationship will be the same as the animanga just a lot less intense on sanji’s side. it being the same in the fact that he very clearly adores nami and is always ready to do anything she asks of him and always goes the extra mile for her but less intense in cut the over the top reactions and fawning from the animanga because it’s unnecessary and frankly can be annoying (said with so much love for dorky, exaggerated pre time-skip sanji, he’s so adorable).

i have another ramble in my drafts about opla sanji and his relationship with and views of women so i will refrain from going into that side of it in detail here but what is something important to me about sanji and nami’s relationship, especially just post arlong park, is that sanji is no stranger to feeling trapped and abused in a way that is not too dissimilar to nami’s experience. different situations but the same feelings involved and i think that lends itself to a softness around her that has nothing to do with her gender. i always struggle to word it properly but there’s a kinship there that i would love to see explored, shared trauma and all that. i don’t think it really will be considering nothing about germa and sanji’s past will ever be explicit in season 2 but i can dream.

on nami’s end i always see her laughing and rolling her eyes at his antics and flirting (because his flirting will absolutely continue) because she knows he isn’t serious, not if she doesn’t want him to be but appreciating it nonetheless because after the hell that was the past 8 years of her life it’s nice to be looked after and complimented and cared about.

[rosetyler42]

Ericka: She's very put together, efficient, and does want things done right, but isn't NEARLY the perfectionist OR control freak Drac is. In general, as long as things get done to the best of one's ability and no one let's hurt? She's fine. It's mostly when one clearly ISN'T trying that bothers her.

Lucy: No, not at all, even less so than her mom. She takes more after her brother's "Just roll with it" philosophy. Part of being able to have more freedom and less expectations.

Simon: Kind of, but not nearly as much as Drac. He's kinda more like Ericka or Mavis when it comes to that.

Alice: Oh, definitely. Susie especially since she's the side that really thought she needed to be perfect and was willing to go to insane and ruthless lengths to achieve it. Alice is more the "Wants things done right, taking care of others, straightens up messes" kind of perfectionist.

Audrey: A little bit, mostly because she's an animator, a job that requires a little bit of perfectionism. That said, she's weirdly chill and adaptable otherwise.

@lovelylivelyv 's Jack Nephalem: No, not at all. XD Again, he kinda goes by the same "Just roll with it" philosophy Lucy does.

Bill: I'd say he's an ANTI-perfectionist. He wants to get rid of all rules and run the anarchy.

Ford: Oh yeah. Definitely.

Fidds: Even more so than Ford. That's his OCD talking. This is mr. "Quintuple Checks" his equations here.

Mabel: Maybe at arts and crafts, not much else.

Shego: Like Ericka, She wants things done well, not perfect. Unlike Ericka, she isn't as put together or efficient.

Meteora: Oh, yeah. One of the worst ones here. Even to the point her GRAMMAR has to be right.

Eclipsa: No, I don't think so. She's a naturally elegant queen but she also eats Snookers bars like crazy, plays the bone guitar, sneaks around to learn about things, dates monsters, never cared much for Mewni convention...she's definitely not a perfectionist.

Mr. Ring-A-Ding/Lux Imperator: Interesting question, him being a cartoon god. Judging by his small mistake in his illusion of arresting the Doctor, probably not.

Bloo: Oh, definitely not. At least when it doesn't come to hijinks or pranks. When he WANTS to, he can pull off intricate plans and make very effective things out of even just sewing materials ON HIS OWN. But mist of the time he just wants to have fun and laze around.

Mr. Caine: Kind of, considering his desire to keep the player's happy and separate from NPCs. Makes sense since he's an AI.

Pomni: I think she's just trying to stay alive and sane in a crazy situation. She doesn't have the mental energy to be a perfectionist.

Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[izayoichan]

They stood together watching as River used his magic to do the final painting touches, and everyone else was busy fixing the last few things in the stables, and innside. Liam nodded at his mom, as the two of them were about to get Silver and Shade from the shelter stables and ride them over.

Silver was Liam’s first horse, and now familiar, Shade was the first horse they wanted to take to the cafe, as they didn’t seem to have a good time at the shelter with all the other animals. It was after all Liam’s idea that some horses could stay here, and perhaps find a home that way, while dogs and cats would come for a daytime visit and then go back to the shelter after. Liam: Lets go get them? Lucas: Yeah.. Liam? Liam: Yeah? Lucas: I’m really proud of you. River: As am I, just come home and say hi on occasion. Liam: Of course I will, I mean I will be there every day to take some pets to the cafe.

River chuckled and ruffled his son's hair before watching the two walk to the shelter to get the two first residents. Silver and Liam had been close since they got Silver into the shelter, so for him to keep him had just become a thing.

Shade was a new arrival, and River hoped that this more calm spot would do the horse well. He had noticed that both Liam and Lucas had a natural way with horses, something he wondered if was a sundragon thing. 

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[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

Oh I never posted these doodles did I?

……ah *scamper away*