#my sweet memory

[clumsypuppy]

@heropartnerweek 2025 day 3 - recovery

dialga revived neptune using the last minutes before he disappears. because of this, he's sustaining the injuries from the fight when he reunites with marmalade.

[cacaoespolvoreado]

I get why so much people makes Petey kinda tsundere and closed with his feelings because he is grumpy and traumatized, but in the comic books he is so caring and demostrative with Li'l Petey that I think he would be really sweet when he loves someone. Like, after he accepted Li'l Petey was his son he always put him first and try his best so he can feel loved.

(And even when he was in denial everyone was aware he loves Li'l Petey, even his enemies)

When Li'l Petey asked him if he was still mad at him (After letting an entire Ice cream fell on him when Petey told him to not eat on top of him) Petey was a little angry but made sure his son knows he will get over it.

When he was out of cat jail, first thing he did was buy everything he needed to take care of his child.

He had no obligation to let Dogman have shared custody but did it anyway because Li'l Petey missed him.

He accepted being evil again against his will to save Dogman and make his kid happy.

When he said he hated affect and Li'l Petey apologised he made sure to reassure he can do it, he was talking about everyone else (lol)

And he, indeed, is always carrying him, hugging him and telling him such lovely stuff

Am I making a point? Or I just wanted to show how cute and lovely he is with his son? Yes.

If you haven't read the comics please do yourself a favor and do it. I'm sorry but Comic Petey is the superior Petey.

Bonus because I almost cried at this part 😭 look at him trying to cheer him up

I know is not the same to love a child that to love a partner but I think it would be cute and funny that Petey is just the sweetest partner ever, like Dogman would have such a whiplash but I don't see him complaining since he loves physical affect.

Summary of this post:

[saetiate]

you work for reo and he’s just so sweet to you. he hugs you after galas to tell you how well you did, pats your head, thanks you every time you’ve done your job with a gentle smile. it’s only when you talk to his other employees that you find their shell-shocked faces of disbelief at how you describe him. sure, reo is charismatic, but he’s always held a level of professionalism with them, has expectations for them to do their job well. you walk into his office when his back is turned and you’re surprised to hear how low and cold his voice is when giving orders. it’s only then you start to realize how he’s always cooing at you, bringing you in close in a way he doesn’t with anyone else here.

[starmocha]

Doctor's Note [Zayne + Son ★ 1289 words ★ Masterlist ★ Snowdrop Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Zayne calls home during lunchtime. A/N: orz this was supposed to have been written and posted in December… orz Tag list: @lavlynyan @miudle @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin 【 request to be added 】

The meeting was finally over.

Thankfully, it was just a little bit past noon by the time Zayne had returned to his office. As he settled into his seat, he started a video call, waiting patiently until a face completely identical to his popped up on the screen.

“Daddy!”

He chuckled at the sight of his three-year-old son’s bright grinning face. The boy immediately turned away, yelling for his mother. “Mommy, it’s Daddy on your phone!”

“Did Mommy let you answer this call for her?” Zayne asked teasingly, smiling when his son looked bashful and nodded. “Good, I don’t want you answering any phone calls without our permission, remember?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “I remember, Daddy!”

“Good boy,” he responded. He quirked a brow, noticing a rice grain on his son’s mouth. “Are you eating lunch without me?”

“Mommy made me…” the toddler said with a pout. “I told you Daddy would call, Mommy!”

“Zayne, are you turning our son against me again?” You immediately entered the screen with a playful glare. You bent lower and rubbed the rice grain off your son’s face, adding, “We just started eating.”

“Daddy, do you have your lunch?” the boy asked, wriggling his way back into the screen to look at his father hopefully. “Mommy and I made it just for you!”

“Yeah, Zaynie, our darling boy and I made it just for you,” you added with a mischievous smile.

“What did you do?” Zayne responded with a raise of his brow, matching your smile with his own. He set a bento box down in front of him, noticing a folded note attached on top. He opened the note, chuckling softly when he saw the crude handwriting written with green and yellow crayons.

“Is this my little doctor’s note?” he asked playfully, turning the paper with the scribbles to face his phone.

“That’s my note for Daddy!” his son yelled out excitedly.

“Wow, Zayne, our son’s handwriting looks so much nicer than yours,” you teased him again, making his eyes rolled.

“Very funny,” he answered, tone flat. He sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m afraid I have misplaced my reading glasses. Can you read it for me, son?”

The boy nodded. “It says, ‘Daddy should have a good day! I love him very, very, very much and miss him very, very, very much.’”

Both you and Zayne smiled, touched by the little boy’s earnest message. Zayne’s smile seemed to widen as he watched you pulled the boy into your lap to snuggle, his son’s giggles always managing to relieve him from his daily stress. He responded, his voice tender, “I miss you, too. I’ll be home this evening with a surprise.”

“Macarons?” the boy asked hopefully as he wriggled excitedly on your lap, making you giggled as you tried to keep the toddler still. You kissed his cheek sweetly and said in a lower voice:

“Darling, it could be a carrot cake, too, right, Zaynie?”

Zayne’s smile instantly dropped while his son’s excitement grew, as did your teasing smile. The little boy was squirming excitedly on your lap and clapping his hands. “Carrot cake!”

“Oh, but Mommy said we shouldn’t be eating too many sweets,” Zayne added, his eyes darting to meet yours in warning. He smiled stiffly, faltering when you responded cooly:

“Occasionally is fine.”

The boy peered up curiously before turning to look at his father. “Daddy, are you going to eat your lunch?”

Zayne felt grateful for the sudden topic change. He nodded and opened the lid of his bento box, his voice taking on an exaggerated tone as he asked playfully, “Now what do we have here?”

“Rice!” the boy answered brightly, continuing, “And…and…Mommy, what did you say this was called?”

You giggled, your hand smoothing over his hair. You glanced at where Zayne pointed with his chopsticks, seeing the bite-sized fried chicken pieces. “Karaage, my darling.”

“Karaage!” the boy repeatedly loudly, “And…and…”

Zayne smiled as he watched his little carbon-copy son struggled to remember the name of the dishes.

“Rolled omelet, darling.”

“…and omelet, Daddy!”

Zayne laughed at the boy’s earnest declaration. “Sounds nutritious,” he said, adding with a gentle smile, “And they look delicious.”

“Daddy, don’t forget to eat your carrots!”

Immediately, Zayne’s smile disappeared. He managed to compose himself before his son noticed his mood change. Patiently, he asked, “What carrots?”

“The hearts, Daddy!”

He peered down at his lunch again, noticing the heart-shaped carrots and the rounds they were cut from neatly and strategically placed throughout the bento box for a cute design. He looked up, feigning confusion. “I thought these are just decorations?”

“You can eat them!” the little boy insisted happily with a wide grin. “They’re yummy and good for you!”

“You hear that, Zaynie?” you interjected with a mischievous grin, delighting in how your normally calm and collected husband was struggling to maintain his composure, his lips subtly twitching with disgust at the sight of his least favorite food and even worse at the prospect of having to eat them. You continued, chirping happily, “Your personal doctor has just told you they’re yummy and good for you.”

Just as quickly, Zayne directed a sharp glare to you, but you didn’t care, continuing with delight at his misery, “My hubby is so lucky to have such a dedicated doctor who cares about his patient’s health.”

“You put him up to this, didn’t you?” he accused.

“This was his idea!” you protested with a smug smile. “He said—and I quote—‘Mommy, can we cut out hearts for Daddy’s lunch?’”

You leaned down and kissed the top of your son’s head soundly. “Didn’t you, my little darling?”

The boy nodded innocently, his sweet little smile still shining brightly as he waited for his father to take his first bite of his lunch.

“Now Zaynie,” you said teasingly, struggling to stifle your giggles as your husband continued to pierce you with his glares, “Won’t you be a good boy and eat your carrots, per doctor’s order?”

Zayne sighed helplessly when his carbon-copy son stared at him with bright, hopeful eyes. He picked up his chopsticks again, his eyes peering down at his lunch as he quickly tried to gauged which piece of carrot appeared the smallest. He started to reach for one of the rounds with a heart-shaped holes, but you immediately tutted disapprovingly. “A real piece of carrot, sir.”

“They’re all still carrots,” he insisted practically through clenched teeth.

“Daddy, do you not like my lunch for you?” the boy asked with quivering lips.

Damn it.

Zayne smiled reassuringly, speaking gently to the little toddler, “Of course not, son, Daddy was just trying to pick the most delicious piece for his first bite.”

Mentally, he sighed. He unwittingly chose the largest heart-shaped carrot piece and plopped it into his mouth. He struggled to smile as he chewed on the vegetable, his tastebuds screaming in disgust. Eventually, he swallowed, his smile stiff.

“De-delicious,” he fibbed, consciously trying to maintain his smile for his son’s sake. The smile, however, fell completely at the little boy’s innocent declaration:

“Mommy, we should give Daddy more hearts tomorrow!”

“We should,” you agreed with both glee and mischievousness, adding playfully, “Because we love Daddy so much, right, my darling boy?”

“Yeah!”

Through clenched teeth, Zayne’s hand tightened around his chopsticks, and he responded with a forced smile to you, “I love you all, too…so I wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself on my behalf.”

“It’s no trouble, Daddy!” the boy said happily, seemingly unaware of his father’s internal struggles. He continued cheerfully, “I want you to have lots of hearts tomorrow!”

“Because we love you so much, Zaynie,” you added smugly, seeing the light in his eyes fading.

“…I love you, too…”

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[divineandmajesticinone]

4 MINUTES (2024) I EP. 6 & EP. 7 "You're still afraid of dogs."

[crescentfool]

kinkaku-ji for @ryomina-week day 2: kyoto!

[boxheadpaint]

very fond of the ann reardon debunk videos where she makes an awful recipe or food hack from some content farm and then feeds it to her husband. Yeah this hack is dangerous and doesn’t work and is quite bad, and now its Dave’s turn in the torment

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Alas, this beautiful dream could not last.

[hatsbuckets]

[i do not need a fwb situation, i tell myself repeatedly. (i'm in college it'd be way too easy lmao)]

Head Canons (some suggestive stuff in this but not much)

Thinking about John Mactavish volunteering at animal shelters whenever he can. It ends up being like a few spattering of days every month, but he'll spend all day there. He loves being around the animals. And he loves getting to be useful and help wherever he can.

You, a longtime volunteer, there nearly every day, love having the enthusiastic, charming... strong... muscular... funny... extra help too. You were the one who showed John around on his first day, a volunteer event day that he happened upon. A few dozen people showed up, and this mohawked, military man was among them.

He was one of the few who came back to the shelter after the event, and on some random day every week, he's there to lend a hand, listening intently to whatever instructions you give him (he's very motivated to listen to you and help the animals out) and even after a couple weeks of absence, he comes back again, apologizing that work took him away so suddenly.

And after a few months... this silly, mohawked, (might I add effortlessly charming, handsome, pretty?) military man's scattering of volunteer days has become a welcome surprise every time. He's always so sweet when he talks to you, throwing a friendly, "good mornin', love. Survive without me?" Carrying on easy conversation throughout the day, and occasionally something that feels like flirting, but you don't read too much into it.

He's a blessing to have. Dogs need a run? He's the first to grab their leashes. Cats' litter boxes need cleaning? He's there with a scoop in hand. The small collection of rodents' pens need a new layer of bedding? He's already headed to storage.

He comes back drenched in sweat from runs, his tank plastered to his chest. Sweaty thighs peeking out from below his shorts as he squats down to pet the happy, panting dogs. And you pass him a towel, and his smile just beams up at you. God he's adorable and hot all at once.

His arms flex against his shirt sleeves when he hefts the heavy bags of food up onto his shoulder and god if only he'd do that that you.

His hands are so gentle with the tiny new litter of cats that just came in, helping you clean them off and place them safely into the crate with their mum. need I say more

You learn more about each other. Where he's from, what he does for work, and of course you'd pinned military, but he doesn't quite go into the work that he does. He talks about the men he works with, and you start to recognize names like Price, Gaz, and Ghost. He even shows you pictures of the first two. Not the latter though.

And then another few weeks he's not there... You're starting to miss the loud Scottish voice that normally fills the space as you hose down the concrete patio in the back the shelter. Your thoughts drift to how last time you did this with him he had sprayed you very intentionally with the hose. And you nearly tackled him to wrap your soaking body around him. His hand discarding the hose and wrapping under your legs as he hoists you happily up into his arms and oh you were so close, laughing, smiling, teasing about getting soaked. You were definitely blushing as much as he was.

a couple of days later, just like he'd never left, he's back, helping you organize the larger storage closet. Sharing jokes and teasing. Until you have to reach across him and his face is so close to yours and he completes the distance, catching you oh so off guard but you melt into that kiss. and he presses and prods until your job to reorganize is interrupted by the sudden to fuck each other into the next dimension.

and then a few days later it's the same... You had simply gone to grab a new leash from the closet... he had come for a bag of dog food... or that's what he'd told you at least...

And then your bodies are close, his hand at the back of your neck, your hand travelling down and down, his mouth on yours, hot, needy, quick, and amazing. You're both happy to do it. And it seems you both don't think much of it.

This becomes a routine, in his oh too few volunteer days each month, you make a habit of occupying small, mostly private spaces of the shelter, the small break room, the storage closet, his car, your car. It's only been two or three months, and it's not like it's a big shelter, not that many employees, but damn if it doesn't excite you all the same.

And then after one of these sessions, as you're slipping you shirt on in the back of your car, he pecks a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I'll be gone a few weeks this time, bonnie. Jus' though' I might warn ya." (his accent gets thicker when it's laced with lust, you've come to notice.)

And he is, gone a while, that is. And during this time one of your old flings comes to town... some business trip... and God is this one always a good time, so charming and kind, buys you chocolates and all, a good person truly, just not one to settle down. That's fine by you. So, you let them take you home, let them in your bed, and have a good time. And then they head back to whatever the hell fancy job they have in whatever town they live in now.

It's longer than you expect before John comes back. And when he does, he greets you with that charming smile and you put him to work almost immediately, and he's happy to get to cleaning the dog kennels with you. You get to talking, he asks how your past few weeks have been. And John is so easy to talk to. And you mention your old friend you visited, how they visited your home, even bought you chocolates, the goof. But John gets quiet at this... you don't mention it, not yet...

And then of course, he walks you out to your car that afternoon and of course you end up in the back of it (I should mention here that you do not own a small car, after being the animal lover you are, you need the space to load crates in the back seat) and something about how John takes you this time is needy, needier, possesive in the way he nips at your skin and presses against you.

And at the end of it, he leaves with the same gentle peck at the corner of your mouth, but this time there's no quip, no tease, just a "drive safe" and a gentle smile...

A few days later this man returns to the shelter and before he even asks what needs to get done, he's offering up a small box of chocolates with a bashful little smile.

You thank him and accept the chocolates. and then it's back to work. That evening though, after a particularly long day after getting three new dogs and a new cat, when John walks you to your car, you ask if he wants to go home with you. You'd thought about it all day... somewhere between cleaning and intaking the new animals, mustering up the courage to ask. He accepts with that same enthusiasm that the dogs have when someone walks in with their leashes.

You wake up tangled in him, his arm slung heavy over your waist, his chest warm against your back, one leg thrown over yours like he’s actively trying to wrestle you into the mattress in his sleep. And this man sleeps light, military training and all, but the second you start shifting to sneak out of bed, his grip tightens. "Where ya goin’, love?" all rough morning voice and sleep-heavy slur, nose nudging against your shoulder like he could just sink right back into you and stay there. (You do not go anywhere.)

And things stay the same, mostly. He still only comes around every few weeks, still volunteers, still fills the shelter with that chaotic, obnoxious, charming energy. Still gets drenched in sweat from running the dogs, still lifts those massive bags of food onto his shoulders like he’s personally showing off for you (and he is), still sneaks off into the storage closet with you when no one’s looking, grinning against your mouth before pressing you up against the nearest shelf.

But then, one evening, right as you're closing up the shelter, he lingers by the front desk. Hands shoved deep in his pockets. That telltale shift of weight from foot to foot like he's got something rattling around in his skull, something he's been turning over for a while now.

"Was thinkin'..." He exhales sharply, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking down at his boots like they’ve got the answers. "I've gotta go again, but maybe next time I’m back, we go out somewhere. A proper date, aye?"

And fuck. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But it does. You should say yes. You want to say yes. But you don't.

Because life is a cruel and petty little bastard, your old fling had waltzed back into town. Just for you. A familiar, easy thing. The kind of person you don’t have to think about too much. And for some reason, you say yes when they ask you to dinner. Maybe because you don’t want to wait for something uncertain. Maybe because John is John—flirty, gorgeous, disgustingly good at making you weak in the knees, but never around long enough for you to be sure. (And John doesn't show it, not outwardly, but it breaks his heart.)

And then John comes back. Finally. And he’s not alone. There is a mountain standing next to him. Big. Broad. Dressed head to toe in dark clothes and hoodie like he’s ready for spying, the lower half of his face covered by a black medical mask. He looks like he could crush a man with one hand and still have fingers left to spare. And his eyes, dark, cold, sharp as a fucking blade, land on you like he’s personally offended by your existence. Oh. Oh, this must be Ghost.

John, completely unfazed, grins. “Ghost wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Ghost says nothing. Just stares. (You have never felt more judged in your life. The fuck did you do to make this walking fortress glare at you like that? You know he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. Right?)

And things go back to normal, kind of. John keeps showing up, keeps doing his usual thing. But there’s something off this time. A shift in the way he looks at you, something quietly considering behind his eyes. It all comes to a head one evening when you’re closing up together, standing in the back room trying to fix a shelving issue. He’s quiet. You’re quiet.

And then, you break first. Spill it out like you didn’t mean to—how your old fling wasn’t what you thought, how you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place, how you let yourself get caught up in something easy instead of something real. And John? He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, listening, nodding along like he’s already pieced this all together. Until you mutter, "And I don’t even fucking like chocolate."

And that is what makes him pause. And his brows pull together. Just a little. And then, in the softest, most John way possible—"...Oh."

And the next time he walks into the shelter, it’s not with chocolates.

It’s with a small paper bag. He hands it to you with a little smirk, and inside.

Fresh strawberries. From the farmer’s stand down the road. You’d only mentioned them once. Some passing comment made one day while you were both cleaning up in the yard outside. And John had remembered. And with a charming little smile, he takes your hand. "Let me take ya out properly." And you blink up at him, caught off guard by how easy, how simple he makes it sound. "I—yeah."

And yes, you go on that date. And yes, you end up back at your place. And yes, you have a very, very good night.

And yes, eventually, John introduces you to Ghost properly. (and Price and Gaz too, ah John and Kyle.)

And yes, somehow, someway, you end up with not just one, but two terrifyingly strong military men helping out at the shelter—John still enthusiastically doing everything he can, and Ghost looming in the doing every little thing you ask without question, surprisingly good with the most feral old cats, somehow terrifying and begrudgingly helpful all at once. (He makes it a point to lift two bags of dog food for every one John carries. Jesus Christ)

And yes, eventually, Ghost ends up in your bed too.

But that’s another story.

Thanks for reading.

[river-of-wine]

Mummy loves you

[clumsypuppy]

these two are so interesting to me

characters belong to @canisalbus

[tfh-arts]

Over and over again for a goal no longer in sight

[sweetest-honeybee]

Also a lil damien sounded fun

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

BTS Memories of 2020 Daechwita MV Making Film cr. 0613data

[the-woman-upstairs]

In the universe of the film, there is ABSOLUTELY a contingent of fans that fervently ship Argylle/Wyatt and have the dominant ship on AO3 and trade elaborate fan theories about their hidden relationship and are convinced they’re meant to be endgame but the publishers won’t allow it. Of course, they go totally BALLISTIC when they learn they’re based on the author and her boyfriend.