#give him a small toy violin

[i-like-omori]

i hate babies and infants with a burning passion, they make me so fucking mad. but THIS.

THIS IS THE ONLY GOOD BABY IN THE WORLD.

you don't get to argue with me because i am correct. i don't give a SHHHIITTT about other babies, i don't care if one of you people are like 30 and have a baby and you go "but my baby is specia-"

YOUR BABY IS FUCKING UGLY.

this one is the only good one. i rest my case.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Riding Shotgun || CL16 & PG10 {2}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader x Pierre Gasly Summary: Just some more smut with your boyfriend and ex. Warnings: 18+ only, threesome, smut, blow job, exhibitionism WC: 1.1k

F1 Masterlist || Part One

“When you said we’re going to a concert I thought you meant like Harry Styles or something, not…this.”

Charles looked across the red velvet upholstered couch with gilded wooden armrests, past you and on to his friend. The seat was definitely built to look sophisticated because comfort was not something you would say it had as you shifted the small cushion again and leaned into Charles' side.

“This is Vivaldi. Have some culture, Pierre.”

Pierre leaned closer to you and toyed with the thin strap of your evening dress, slipping it off your shoulder before kissing the bare skin. “I had far better ideas on how we could spend our Saturday night.”

Your breasts nearly fell out of the bust as the strap fell away and Charles’ attention was pulled away from the concert. He eyed the supple skin with a look of hunger before dipping his head to trace his tongue over the swell before grazing his teeth.

Your head fell back with a moan but it was cut off as Pierre covered your mouth. “Uh-uh, no sounds or we stop.” His hand fell away and you bit your lip to keep silent. “Good girl.”

The private box high up in the theatre had an excellent view of the stage but it wasn’t completely hidden from sight. It was only the fact that the lights had gone dark as the concert began that meant the other boxes around you couldn’t see inside. If the interval started and the lights came on then there were plenty of people who could see what the three of you were doing.

The thought made you feral with need and your legs parted so the slit of your dress bared the skin of your thigh.

Charles’ fingers teased along the strip of skin before disappearing beneath the material and he groaned softly. “Pierre, did you plan this?”

Pierre looked confused and you smirked at him. “I’m not wearing anything underneath this. Anything.”

“Mon dieu,” he chuckled quietly as he opened his trousers and freed himself. “You’re such a dirty little slut, you should be on your knees.”

You slipped off the couch and knelt between Pierre’s spread legs to watch him lazily stroke his length with a smirk. Your cunt tightened at the thought of sharing him and Charles again and you looked at your boyfriend as you pushed Pierre’s hand away and teased the tip of his cock with your tongue.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whispered to Charles before your ability to speak was lost. Pierre’s hand had spread across the back of your head and pushed you down as he thrust his hips up, burying himself in your throat until your lungs burned and your eyes watered.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he moaned as he watched your spit run down you chin a moment before pulling you back down again. “Come on, Charles, tell me how wet she is.”

Way down below on the stage, the violins were working their way to a crescendo when the material of your dress was bunched up your back and Charles’ fingers teased your slit. Pierre moaned softly and you rolled your eyes up his body to find his tongue rolling over Charles’ fingers in his mouth, sharing your taste with his friend.

Heat flared in your belly at the sight and you imagined them sharing even more as a throb built between your legs. An orgasm was building and Charles hadn’t even touched you properly let alone fucked you and a needy whine escaped as Pierre let you take a breath.

“Please,” you begged as you jiggled your ass for him.

Charles laughed softly as he gripped your hips to still them before giving you what you wanted. The sound that would have escaped when he filled your pussy was stolen as Pierre started to fuck your mouth and all you could hear was the sound of the violins exploding into chorus.

It was a race against time as the orchestra worked their way through the Four Seasons' pieces and Charles recognised Winter first. You had been edging Pierre, teasing him and pulling away when his abs tensed under your fingers and his knees tightened around your ribs. At the same time, Charles had been edging you. But now that the final piece was playing, playtime was over.

Charles reached around your hip and pressed the pad of his finger to your clit, circling it in time to the quick pace he set with his hips. Each thrust rocked you against Pierre and his head fell back as you took him as deep as you could, fighting your gag reflex as you slipped a hand down his body and gently squeezed his balls as they tightened in your palm.

Every muscle tensed across every body as the pleasure became too much, the built tension finally snapping. Your hands slapped down on Pierre’s thighs, nails digging into him as your orgasm rocked through before he bucked his hips up and you tasted his cum as it filled your mouth. Heat filled your cunt as Charles’ fingers dug into your hips and you felt his cock pulsing with his release, each twitch sending an aftershock down your legs.

“Shit,” Charles panted as he looked to the stage in time to hear the last note echoing around the room. “Lights.”

He abruptly pulled out and left you empty as he pulled your dress back into place before dropping into the chair and tugging you up with him. Pierre couldn’t stop shaking with silent laughter as he rushed to tuck himself back into his trousers just before the chandeliers warmed to a soft glow that illuminated the full theatre.

“Nice lipstick,” he smirked as he ran his thumb across your swollen lips.

“Nice lipstick,” he smirked as he ran his thumb across your swollen lips. “You’re such a mess.”

You smirked back as you crossed your legs and felt the warm wet cum dripping down your thighs. “You have no idea.”

The second half passed quickly with everyone leaning against the other, relaxed and recuperating with the knowledge the night was still young.

“Which was your favourite, baby?” you asked Charles as the concert finished.

His lips curled up in a sexy smile as he pulled you into his arms. “Take a guess.”

It was always Winter, he knew the song like the back of his hand but now it held a new level of enjoyment for him.

“You know how I said you’re a mess,” Pierre said as he watched you kiss your boyfriend. “Yeah…you might want to give her your jacket.”

Charles turned you around as Pierre chewed on his bottom lip, desire swimming in his eyes as you felt the cold damp spot at the back of your dress.

Charles’ jacket draped over your shoulders and you slipped your arms through the warm sleeves as he kissed your neck. “My bad.”

You giggled as you checked the back of the jacket hung low enough to cover your ass before slipping your fingers into his to leave with everyone else. “Don’t worry, I still love you.”

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: one day only | zh

summary | your friends make a bet that you and your boyfriend can’t spend one day without talking to or seeing each other, which both you and your boyfriend are convinced is untrue. so, you give it a shot—you just don’t consider whether or not the universe agrees with you, too.

genre | zhang hao x reader, established realtionship, fluff, short and sweet

wc | 1.3k

a/n: zhang hao heart eyes giggle giggle heart

USUALLY, WHEN IT’S COLD OUTSIDE, you hold your boyfriend’s hand to keep your hands warm. Today, however, it’s cold, wet, and you’re boyfriendless, which was three negatives with not a single positive to balance them out.

You shuffle through the streets of Seoul with what you could only assume was a negative look on your face, staring into the windows of shops and cafes wondering what you could do to entertain yourself. As much as you didn’t want to, the thought of “If my boyfriend was here” popped into your head every twenty seconds, which only proved your friends right.

About a week ago, Matthew jokingly said that you and your boyfriend, Hao, would die should you be forced to spend a day apart from each other, which had sparked a heated debate within your friend group until today, which was the fated quote-unquote “trial.” At midnight today, they had you block Hao and sleep at your parents’ house, and thus the clock started—you were not to see Zhang Hao until 12:01 am.

Part of you wanted to break it off, mostly because you were cold and wanted to go home, but you had a point to prove, and about 5 people and $100 counting on you not seeing Hao until tomorrow. And, you’d made a big deal about how you were going to take yourself on a date and have the time of your life, which was not going as planned.

Meanwhile, Hao, who supposedly hadn’t taken a stance (which was a lie, because, when Matthew originally sent the text, he agreed, which offended you) was likely living his day like he usually would—practicing the violin, cooking an extravagant lunch, taking a nap at 2.

With a somber sigh, you wandered into a trinket store with no goal other than escaping from the cold outside. It was big and filled to the brim with glass cases housing jewelry, glass figurines, and anything else that felt worth obscuring from people prone to breaking things.

Without thinking, you stumbled over to the kids’ area. It was somewhat like a mini toy store, with Lego sets lining the walls and action figures sitting in plastic cases. To your right, there was a small basket with the label “pre-loved stuffies,” which you thought was adorable. You also thought that Hao would love it, which made you want to start crying.

You walked over to it, picking up the teddy bear on the very top of the pile. You nearly scoffed at it, staring at it with malice in your eyes. In the teddy bear’s hand was a small violin, misshapen and squishy, but still recognizable.

“They made him into a teddy bear,” you whispered to yourself, almost laughing. Well, now you had to get it for him, you reasoned, immediately beelining for the cashier. She greeted you with a smile, taking the bear from your hands and scanning the barcode that they’d haphazardly placed on the back of the violin.

“We actually just received this one today,” she hummed, bringing out a light pink paper bag to put the bear in. “From a little boy who said he was too grown up for it. It was very sweet.”

“Awe,” you smiled, trying to imagine a little boy marching in with a bag of stuffed animals and insisting that he was too old for a teddy bear. “How old was he, do you think?”

“Eight or nine, maybe? He was sweet,” she replied. You tapped your card against the card reader, shoving it back into your wallet as quickly as you could. The cashier handed you the bag, saying, “Thank you!”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, turning to leave the shop with your new present in hand. With more resolve, you decided you were going to give up the challenge—this was stupid, and you didn’t need to be forced away from your boyfriend for 24 hours to prove a point. You knew that you could last a day without him if need be, and you didn’t need to test the theory for anyone.

The moment you were back on the sidewalk, you took out your phone, marching towards the train station. You would admit it, with pride—you loved your boyfriend and didn’t like being away from him. That didn’t mean you were incapable of being away from him for a while, so you would tell your friends that, and you would deal with the ridicule until they found a new thing to pick on.

So, you pulled up Hao’s contact on your phone, getting ready to press the unblock button, when you walked straight into someone’s back. You gasped, taking a step back and exclaiming “I’m so sorry!”

And then, you hear a familiar voice say, “No way.”

You looked up, jaw dropped as you stared at none other than Zhang Hao and Sung Hanbin, standing side by side, right in front of you. For a moment, the three of you just stared at one another in complete silence, like you were seeing each other for the first time in decades.

“No fucking way,” Hanbin repeated, finally breaking the silence. “There’s no way. Like, no way.”

“Apparently, there’s a way,” Hao replied, staring down at you with a pretty smile. You practically swooned, resisting the urge to engulf him in a hug and tell him how much you missed him. “How’s your day been, honey?”

“Fine,” you replied nonchalantly, watching as Hanbin typed furiously on his phone. “I got you a gift.”

“You did?”

You held out the bag, and Hao raised an eyebrow, taking it from you. He pulled out the teddy bear, staring at it with an incredulous look on his face. “You found a violin-holding teddy bear? Just out in the open?”

“It was on the top of a ‘pre-loved stuffies’ bin at a little shop down the way,” you replied, suppressing your smile. “And, get this, they got it today. Some kid dropped it off mere hours ago, and then I happened to show up on my no-Zhang-Hao-allowed day.”

Hao turned to Hanbin, and you felt your phone starting to blow up in your pocket, meaning Hanbin had successfully let the group know that you ran into him, unplanned, out on the open streets of Seoul, a good hour away from your apartment. “Does this mean we lose?”

“I don’t even know,” Hanbin replied, exasperated. “I—what are the odds of this? You couldn’t have even planned it. We’ve been together since last night.”

“I guess it was just fate,” you shrugged, crossing your arms. “And, for your information, I can easily spend a day without Hao.”

“Aw,” Hao said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You finally felt warm again, and you felt a little embarrassed that this was happening. “Well, for your information, I’ve been complaining about missing you from the moment you left.”

“He has,” Hanbin agreed, holding up his phone. “Let me take a picture, ‘kay? I need to send it to everyone.”

You gave the camera a thumbs up, finally giving in and smiling (not for the picture, but at the fact that you were reunited with your beloved boyfriend). Hao, in the most Hao way possible, leaned his head on yours, also holding up his thumb.

“You and I were fate,” he chuckled, and Hanbin snapped a picture, memorializing this moment into history.

thank you for reading !

[radioisntdead]

Can I make a request for headcanons on Vox and the reader is his clingy teen daughter? She's always following him around, randomly hugging him, always rambling to him or gossiping with him, whenever they sit together she just leans on him or puts her head on his lap and asks him to check her hair for bugs (she just wants him to run his hands through)

Good evening my dear! I hope you enjoy these headcanons they're a little shorter then intended my apologies! I imagine reader following Vox around like a duckling

I'm using a older header I made ages ago for vox here, might keep this one because I really like how it looks

HEADCANON TIME

You know when someone thinks of father - daughter bonding activities FALLING TO HELL ISN'T ONE OF THEM.

I imagine you'll look alot like Vox, minus the TV head [and lack of hair] maybe like a cyborg?? Robot?? Or maybe YOU DO HAVE A TV HEAD and wires that act like hair?? I don't know that's up to you,

Father daughter hats, matching hats you have matching hats.

As Vox is the tech guy of hell you get ALL THE NEW ELECTRONICS, newest phone even if you don't want it, top of the line laptops, you like those little electronic toys? He'll give em' to you,

Furbys are banned though they remind him of Alastor, you used to call him Uncle Alastor. When they used to be buddies

Valentino needs to be supervised by either Vox himself or Velvette if he's near you.

Honestly Valentino acts like a creepy step parent, you should totally rip out his other antenna.

Velvette on the other hand IS YOUR OLDER SISTER PR COUSIN FIGURE, she uses you as a model sometimes, you're always dressed in whatever is trending or whatever is trending in the aesthetic you like.

I imagine when Vox has his meetings you're just chillin' in the back playing on your hell-tendo switch and adding in your two cents every once in a while.

Vox could be yelling at someone for being incompetent or something and you just prance on in like "PAPA I REQUIRE AFFECTION" and just hug him, he stops for like two seconds to give you attention and then goes back to yelling at the poor sinner who mucked up.

I can see you kinda being apart of the Vee's but not officially yet since you're not an overlord, but once you become one you'll get assigned a V name or something probably I don't know. Maybe they start calling you violin or violence

Honestly I can see vox's daughter as someone very into fandom spaces and Internet culture [like on the CUSP of chronically online but not exactly crossing that boundary yet, YET.]

I imagine you wait outside of his door at like 6:30 am when he wakes up just so when he goes to make himself coffee he's just JUMPSCARED by you,

"ACK WHO THE FU- Oh good morning sweetie why are you awake- did did you sleep at all??"

"nope, I binged watched a show, that being said, SO THE PLOT IS -"

And you just ramble while he's groggily making coffee.

I don't think he'd be one to care about gossip all that much unless it involves someone he's interested in COUGH, COUGH ALASTOR COUGH COUGH ACK

But he'll listen to you go on about how someone in one of the fandom communities you're in got into a scandal because they apparently pissed off 'Arson Carson ' on sincord but Arson Carson got exposed for being a creep or whatever, or even just petty gossip like how someone in a group chat you're in on sinstagram is being a creep but NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU AND YOUR FRIEND CAN TELL.

Now I do this with my best friend sometimes they'll be on their phone or something and I'll just plop my head on their knee and scroll on my phone, I imagine that's what you and Vox do but he'll probably pat your head,

I imagine he'll probably do your hair sometimes, like puts it up In a ponytail, that's the only hairstyle he knows [My dad fr fr]

I imagine Vox gives you piggy back rides, or tries to, you just hang on his back like a koala, you cannot grow up in his eyes you'll always be that small child, missing a couple of teeth, who'd brag about her dad working in the TV on the playground, you can do no wrong!

You probably killed a guy, or maybe set something on fire.

Good evening folks I hope you enjoyed! This would've been a little longer but they GOT DELETED the first time I was writing them so that was fun, anyways as always thank you for tuning in and I hope you all have a wonderful night!

[jjtheresidentbaby]

😯 umbrella academy? Could I possibly request some regressor five headcanons?

Little Five Hargreeves headcanons

warnings: talk of time travel/being caught in the apocalypse, talk of bad parenting, set season 1 as that’s the one I’m on lol (however I do know about viktors name change/pronoun change so I’ll be using those)

is against regressing when he first comes back from being in the apocalypse

klaus suggests it as a way to help cope being back but five thinks it’s useless

starts to involuntarily regress and kind of has no choice but to accept it

his age range is anywhere from tiny lil baby space to teenager filled with angst

the first time he regresses is actually at viktor’s apartment when five is trying to explain things to viktor and they both scramble with what’s going on- five has no idea why he’s suddenly uncoordinated and can’t form words properly, viktor is worried it’s a side effect of the time travel and starts to panic that’s something’s wrong

a quick call to pogo and all things are figured out

viktor doesn’t have much experience with littles but he does know how to care for kids- despite what people think- so he’s able to set five up on the couch with cartoons and some snacks in non-breakable bowls because five can’t seem to grasp anything quite right

five makes viktor swear to never tell a soul about what happened and he of course agrees, he wouldn’t want their family to know that stuff either with the track record they have

the next time he regresses is after getting drunk when he wakes up at diego’s place with luther watching over him

luther is super nervous having five acting so young and his solution is to pick him up and carry him over to wherever allison is (shocker I know)

she babies the HELL out of five and he hates it. kind of. it is nice to have his hair brushed and to be read to- but it can get too much quick though

eventually all the siblings have their own experiences finding out that five regresses so he never tells them directly they just get stuck babysitting unwillingly

at some point luther calls a family meeting to talk about it- and about any other regressors/caregivers in the family- and that’s how all the siblings find out that the others also know five regresses and that they’re keeping his secret for nothing

five shrugs them off and says it was easier that way because now they’re going to baby him together and he doesn’t want that

they deny this. then immediately prove him right when he drops later on in the night

diego & klaus are his favorite caregivers but he doesn’t mind having viktor help out

the siblings have very distinct ways that they care for five

allison & luther are almost always watching him together and they very easily fall into mom & dad mode™️ like some romcom couple - five enjoys this when he’s feeling particularly small and doesn’t want to do anything for himself

viktor is the KING of movie nights and letting five play with toys while he practices his violin, and even when five shows up in his teenager headspace just wanting to vent everything somehow viktor manages to keep it all very tranquil and calm- five goes to vik when he’s stressed or overstimulated by all the many tasks he has to do but is too small too, viktor gives some pretty good pep talks about taking it easy

klaus is pure chaos like he always is. he likes to take five on day trips and to amusement parks or on a shopping spree (with allisons credit card. “she’s a celebrity she has money it’s fineee”- klaus, many times to five.) - but he makes things fun and five is able to forget about his responsibilities for a while when klaus is there, also klaus is a master at bath time which five appreciates as he finds it difficult to be coordinated enough to complete simple everyday tasks like bathing when regressed too young

diego is the most flexible with how he cares for five, he can be calm if needed or he can bring out some chaos and let five act like an angsty teenager or kid again, whatever five needs. he’s also a pretty good cook after learning from grace so he teaches five (when he’s feeling old enough) some things in the kitchen- diego is his number one call when he regresses somewhere alone and he will ask for diego no matter how old his headspace is, diego is fives favorite, and of course diego never lets luther forget it (or anyone else)

and while klaus is a close second, five feels most comfortable to be open with diego and let him in on any serious problems he’s having like nightmares about the apocalypse or insecurities about his regression

five does start to carry around some little gear as he’d never want to depend on his siblings too much- it’s mostly fidget toys, a teething ring that’s been through hell and back, a couple stuffed animals and some paper & crayons to draw or write with. he keeps it all in his green duffle bag that is miraculously always close by when he needs it

he either loves time travel when small or hates it

sometimes he likes to play a game of “hide and seek” where he just jumps to different spots in the room and his caregiver tries to catch him before he breaks a tooth — he especially likes this game with allison & luther around

and other times he curls up on viktors couch with diego and vik on either side of him while he sobs about hating his power and how all it does is cause issues (they ofc assure him that that’s not true)

he has a weird mistrust towards grace when he’s in his teenager headspace- he’s tried to figure out why while big and he’s yet to come up with anything solid

him & ben play chess together per klaus moving the pieces where ben says while ben stands off to the side watching as he loses to a mentally seven year old and has a mini breakdown about it every time

some of the only times he changes out of his uniform to something else is if allison persuades him (without her powers) while he’s regressed as she swears he looks uncomfortable in that uniform - five appreciates this more than he says

likes to write out math equations on the walls when he’s feeling big enough, they’re never anything of significance which is the fun of it for him, if he messes up there’s no major consequences and if he gets them right he gets to show everyone in the house

the fridge is COVERED in art him and klaus make together

he can get pretty quiet when regressed younger but also clingy, especially to diego, which he fully denies

he likes that diego can very easily carry him on his hip or his back or even his shoulders if he wanted - luther can obviously do this too and tries to get five to let him but the only time it works is if diego isn’t close by

viktor & klaus can’t pick five up but they do hold his hand or let him cuddle into their chests on the couch or in a bed

klaus has a secret stash of polaroids from when five is regressed that five finds and makes klaus swear to never take another one again only to ask to pose for a picture next time he regresses (“I was like mentally four stop boasting klaus”)

[itsmalachitenow]

MORE CHUCK HEADCANONS!

You guys seemed to really like my last post, so I'm sharing the other headcanons I've gathered for my personal take on Chuck since then. Get ready for angst!

Chuck did, in fact, hit Gus with the Ghost Train. It was an accident, and to this day he's incredibly broken up about it. Gus, on the other hand, isn't nearly as upset about being dead. He will, however, use his death to guilt Chuck into doing things for him because he knows just how awful Chuck feels about it. Any time Gus wants a new game system or toy, if Chuck isn't too keen on getting it for him, Gus will just bring up that Chuck ran him over and now he's stuck here, and Chuck will look utterly miserable as he climbs into his wheelchair to leave the Ghost Station.

Chuck is very talented at many different types of instruments, including but not limited to: piano, trumpet, saxophone, violin, harp, french horn, clarinet, cello, and oboe.

He can also sing very well. He is a baritone.

Chuck's true full name is Carlo Toscanini. He prefers the Chuck nickname, though, because it sounds like a train noise. He likes train noises!

Because he's been alone for so long, Chuck is incredibly self conscious about needing any kind of help because he's disabled. Especially when he's in his chair. The idea of being helped and not having to do it all himself is completely foreign to him, and he absolutely abhors the idea of needing to rely on someone else to help him do what he sees as 'basic things'. He would rather struggle by himself than swallow his pride and ask a loved one to get involved.

Related: If you touch this man's wheelchair without asking him first, he is going to run you over with it.

Chuck will never finish his 'magnum opus'. He is a perfectionist, and hasn't had what he considers a 'good' piece in decades because he's constantly going back and changing them, never satisfied with the results. Even if he does finish a musical composition or opera, he will always find some fault with them afterwards and not want to dwell on them. Being alone for so long with no real audience for his works other than Gus (who doesn't really understand or care as much because he's a kid) means he's his only critic, and he will always be his worst critic.

Chuck makes his own coffee and is a total snob about drinking anyone else's. It tastes like diesel, but it'll keep you awake for three days straight.

This man does not have a consistent schedule for anything other than 'work'. Food, sleep, self care, all of it comes second to his job and to his music.

He has chronic insomnia, and horrible nightmares whenever he does drift off to sleep, so Chuck prefers to just keep going for as many days as possible until his body physically cannot stay awake anymore.

Because he's lived so long, Chuck can barely remember any of his early life, and that terrifies him. He remembers the name of his hometown, he remembers he had a father who was a conductor, but everything else is a blur. He can't remember his parents' names, their faces, whether he had siblings or not...those memories are gone forever, and Chuck will never get them back.

His biggest regret is not saying goodbye to his family the night he left to join the Train.

Chuck is also terrified of going back to his hometown, because he knows it will be entirely different from what little he remembers. If he never returns, he can always pretend it's still the way he was when he left it, and ignore the gravity of his choice to join the Ghost Train.

Because he's scared he'll forget other things, Chuck is a compulsive journaler. He writes down the day's events, no matter how trivial, and gives a massive amount of detail about every person he interacts with. He only started doing this about a hundred years ago, once he realized he couldn't remember his family anymore.

Chuck has a small apartment in the Ghost Station. It's small and cramped, but it's a place for him to stay when he's not working, and also for any lovers or loved ones to stay if they're 'living' with him. He has a room entirely dedicated to all of his journals, though the manner of sorting them is known only to Chuck.

[gurlbesimpin]

Gortash with artistic friend|s/o

Friend ver:

-Gortash himself is quite artistic, it does take creativity to invent a colossal machine with golden intricacies

-he appreciates your creativity, always asking for your creative input when he needs it

-if you're a painter, you bet your ass he'd fire any painter he has hired and replace then with your talents (would commission a portrait of himself ofc)

-if your artistic side leans toward the art of music, he's just as appreciative

-gortash is a pianist, so he himself has some musical capabilities

-would ask you to perform for him after a busy day

-preferrs violin, piano, cello and the lute

-doesn't mind drums

(Insert drummer Gort AU)

-he would play piano whilst you play your instrument of choice

-also he'd hire you as his personal bard

-if you're a sculper or widdler he'd commission little statues of figurines

-would want to try it, but would hate getting clay on his hands. He doesn't like the texture

-would ask you to make miniature steel watchers for the fun of it

-maybe a statue of himself and his cane

-also, he'd want a small wooden figurine of a lion (matching his belt) and it would be sitting on his desk at all times

S/O ver:

-If you're a painter, he'd definitely want you to make a painting of him and yourself, which could prove difficult

-Would hire another painter to make a portrait of you that he can hang in his chambers

-Any painting someone else paints for him, he'd show you for criticism and small fixes

-if your creativity is musical, he'd totally jan out with you, especially on date nights. He'd play a slow romantic song on his piano, and you could join with your instrument of choice

-would let you sing/play him to sleep

-he'd want you to write songs about your relationship

-if you can play piano, he'd allow you to play on his whenever you'd like

-Gortash loves date nights and piano, and he'd absolutely buy you an expensive bottle of wine as a little treat

-If bane allowed him to marry you (likely for political gain or for conceiving an heir) Gortash would want you to play at your wedding

-He'd absolutely hate it if anyone were to hire you as their musician/bard. You're his and his alone

-if you're a sculper or widdler, he'd absolutely try it

(And same as before, hate the texture of clay. This woukd end in some ridiculous fun. He's a serious man by all means, but would definitely slap clay in your face for a moment of comedic relief)

-definitely would want a statue of you and him for the audience hall

NSFW/gore:

-One day you enter his chambers (in a mansion he owns in the upper city) and see him laying bare on the red sheets bed and a rose between his teeth

-paint him like one of your french girls~

-definitely would want a statue with his dick out (like the statues you get at the faire)

-would possibly consider creating sex toys with you

(Likely out of glass)

-if it's a Durge, he'd allow you to give him a small cut to paint with his blood

(It's very pigmented)

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

Prompt used in this chapter: toys

They’re curled up under a blanket on the sofa, Sherlock leaning his back into John’s chest, their cheeks touching. John’s strong arms encircle Sherlock’s torso and white and green candles are creating flickering shadows on the walls. A perfect evening for a quiet conversation.

December 28

Classical music plays from the music device and suddenly a question pops into John’s mind. 

“Did you have any favourite toys as a child or was it just the violin and your chemistry set that caught your attention?” he asks his love. 

“Ah, interesting question. I take it you didn’t open the old suitcase under my bed at my parent’s, then,” Sherlock smirks. 

John can’t for the life of him remember any suitcase. His brain had been otherwise occupied while they visited his soon-to-be-in-laws.

“You know I didn’t,” John huffs, but gives Sherlock a kiss on his temple. 

Sherlock hums affirmatively and pecks John’s cheek before he, for the umpteenth time, surprises John with another unknown fact about himself. 

“One December day, the year before I turned six, my father took me to Hamleys on Regent Street for the first time. He’d found a time of day when it wasn’t that crowded, and it was…”

Sherlock trails off and steeples his fingers under his chin, before he continues, making good use of his hands when he explains to John about the wonders of London’s most famous toy store. John can totally picture the curly-headed boy wide-eyed and overwhelmed by all the treats the seven-floor store contained. 

“When we came up to the 5th floor, everything else I’d seen that far, dissipated. At a small table, a boy one year older than me, sat and built LEGO. Not the boxes they sell nowadays, but the retro pieces where you had to use your own imagination to build something. There were no pictures with instructions, just pieces in different sizes and colours. I was enthralled and I made quite a fuss when Father said that we had to leave.”

John chuckles and has no problem envisioning this. Sherlock’s sulks and pouts are legendary, and John’s witnessed quite a few over the years. Sherlock harrumphs disapprovingly, but John knows he’s only acting. 

“So, I guess you got tons of LEGO that Christmas?” John inquires while stroking Sherlock chest. 

“I did, and all the pieces are placed in the aforementioned suitcase,” Sherlock explains. “There are probably some photos of my creations in Mummy’s photo albums too.”

“You must show me the next time we visit,” John says. “Have you been back to Hamleys as an adult?”

Sherlock twists his head to get a good look at John, clearly to deduce if the question is seriously intended. When he finds no evidence of mischief, he rolls his eyes. 

“Why on earth would I go there now, unless…”

“Unless someone was found dead on the premises?” John finishes with a voice full of mirth. 

“Exactly!” Sherlock exclaims. “I saw a group of women coming out of the shop this summer. They were all acting totally…ridiculous. Laughing and telling each other how much fun they had in there, and they didn’t have any children with them, though I guess the youngest one, probably eighteen, might have been the daughter of one of the ladies, but…”

“I adore when you get this agitated about such things, my love. They were probably tourists. And it’s an experience quite a few adults have on their bucket list when they visit London, whether they have kids or not. I think it’s lovely that they were so happy about it,” John states. 

“Sometimes you say the strangest things, John,” Sherlock murmurs, shifts in John’s arms and nuzzles closer to John’s neck and his favourite cuddle position. 

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @sabsi221b @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @raina-at @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely

[emotionalmesshooman]

When I First Met You (The Boy 2016)

A few weeks ago I had found a job babysitting, I needed a job and was exceptionally good with kids. It seemed like a nice place, although it was a long ways away, I booked the flight tickets and was off, already knowing the area and where the house was supposedly located, I knew that It would be a long ride, as I walked out of the airport an older man steps out of a Limousine, it was an older model of some sort of car. 

“Hello, You must be y/n?” He asked.

“Yes, that's me.” I smiled.

He helped me put my luggage in the car, and opened the door. I bowed my head quickly in thanks and got inside the car. The drive was a good two hours, I ended up falling asleep in the car around the one hour mark, it seemed that just as I fell asleep I was woken up by the driver.

“Sorry Miss, I didn’t know how else to wake you.”

“It's alright..” I cover my mouth as I yawn.

I grab my wallet to pay the man, he interrupts my action.

“The Heelshires took care of that already Miss.”

“Oh.”

I put my wallet away, and start grabbing my luggage, the old man helps me and I bring it to the door before knocking. As I knocked the door creaked open, I set my luggage inside by the door. By this time, the driver was long gone. The interior looked  beautiful, the walls with a shiny finish, the railing of the stairs with designs carved into each of them. I started up the stairs, looking to see if anyone was home. 

As I walk upstairs I start to wander through the house still looking for  the sign of anyone I come across a room filled with children's toys. I go to look at the toys closer. A small violin is on one of the dressers. I pluck one of the strings once in a playful manner, when I am suddenly startled  I quickly look behind me. Standing in the door. He has a surprise face as well and a sorry one, 

“I was actually trying not to scare you.” he chuckles embarrassed, he had a strong english accent.

I laugh. “Oh it's fine!”

“Are you the new babysitter?” he asked.

“I am, actually.” 

“oh that's wonderful! I never introduced myself, sorry, my name is Malcolm.” 

he holds his hand out for a handshake, I shake his hand in a polite manner. 

“My name’s y/n”

“Well it's very nice to meet you y/n.” 

I smiled at him, it seemed as if I had made a friend.

“Are you Mr. Heelshire?” I chuckle, it was a dumb question.

“No, no…I'm actually the grocery boy or, man it seems.” 

I laugh again, his jokes being the lowest hanging fruit. As I am laughing an older lady walks to the frame of the door.

“I see you have already met Malcolm.”

She seemed tense, her brows slightly furrowed. As if she was displeased with me already. Malcolm seemed to get tense as well. I got the memo and fixed my laid back posture to show more respect towards her.

“We must go now, we wouldn't want to keep Brahms waiting.” she says sternly.

I nod quickly and hurry to her side along with Malcolm walking with her through the manor, we eventually go into a room where another older man was crouched next to a chair, Malcolm crouched as well next to the chair.

“Hello Brahms.” he says, sighing after. Shaking Brahms’s hand gently.

He steps away, giving me room to say hello to the doll. I walk towards the doll and crouch as well, I gently raise the dolls and shake it.

“It's very nice to meet you Brahms.”

End of chapter 1.

[im-a-chunky-potato]

Hi fellow cello player :DD

Idk any good writing prompts, but if you wanna share any Nikolai headcanon's you have (+ any other doa members you wanna do) I think that'd be cool. I like seeing other people's hc's.

Hi! Ooh I have a ton of headcannons but I'll just show you my favorites. (This will still be pretty long though)

Nikolai:

I have this one headcannon about how he'll purposely misteach fyodor Japanese. It's nothing awful, just small things like changing friend to dear and other cute nicknames to satisfy himself (This is to kind of make fun of the dear dazai line)

He's banned from every pet store and zoo he's ever been too. He just goes on a rant about freedom and sets all of the animals free. (Of course this doesn't stop him though)

He's talented at nearly everything if he puts actual effort into it. Specifically cooking and possibly singing (?) besides other things. I like to think he helped choose out sigma's outfit too.

Sigma!

This is mostly just me being strange with this headcannon, but I like to think that in the book he is described using they/them pronouns. So him choosing his pronouns is part of his own choice and all of that jazz.

Give him stress toys and he'll be calm for hours. (Please he needs them so bad)

It's a habit of his now to ask if any food or drink given to him is poisoned. You can thank Nikolai for that.

Fyodor!

I don't have too many headcannons for him, but I do think he needs either blue light glasses or his eyes are always in extreme pain.

Actually... he's just always suffering in general. Whether it's migrains or his anemia kicking in he's always in some sort of pain.

Hes the kind of person to forget something if it's not part of his goals. He forgets to eat, shower, etc. So he's like Dazai in a way, except he's not self destructive on purpose.

You can tell I like seeing him suffer haha. On a happier note, he's teaching Nikolai how to play the violin or viola. He wonders what it'd be like to play with him someday. what kind of melody would they make? Would they be able to keep up with each other? Possibly even bond?.

Sorry for this being a ton to read.I'm completely up for sharing more though, or if you want I can expand on these ideas a bit. (I just really like talking about them heh)

Have a nice day wherever you are!

[roppongi-division]

Kai's Thoughts on Aomori Division

Aoi Yamamura

"Even though he's the leader, Aoi is the only one from the group that I don't fully know all that well. I've seen him in passing a few times and Zakari has brought home some toys from his workshop (what he does with them, I don't know), but other than that, I don't know much about him. Judging from the wound on his face, he's obviously seen some combat. I suppose after a lifetime of fighting in war, wanting something much quieter, like being a toy store owner, makes sense."

Hisui Meguno

"I know Hisui because I once hired him to play violin on a track I was working for. Jyushi from Nagoya and his band, ArgoξOrchestra, had asked me to produce a song for their album (which they've yet to finish, by the way). And if any of you know Jyushi, you know that his music has to have some sort of... classical feel to it, like something you'd hear in an orchestra or during the Middle Ages/Renaissance."

"Anyway, I had a good idea for how I wanted the song wanted to go, but something was missing from it. While I was walking around, I heard someone playing a violin rather well. I followed the sound and sound Hisui performing for a crowd. When he was done, I asked if he'd help me with a song I was working on, which he agreed."

"Needless to say, the song came out better than I imagined. Jyushi was very happy (I had to stop him from getting too overexcited cause he might have started crying). I thanked Hisui for his work and told him I'd keep him in mind when I needed him again."

"I haven't had too many chances to collab with him after that, but I still see him performing on the streets every now and then."

Ruka Shiina

Kai gives a slight pause at the photo of the young female radio personality before a small grin appears on his face.

"Ruka, a.k.a. 'Regulus.' What can I say about her? She's a good woman with a good ear for music. Honestly, the first time I heard her was on the radio. I think she called my radio show a few months after I had just gotten started. She was really enthusiastic. She called almost everyday after that. I'll admit, I was a bit curious to know more about her, but she was just a fan, and I'd never met her before."

"It wasn't until Zakari introduced us that I thought I'd heard her voice before. It didn't take long for me to recognize her as Ruka. I told her I was glad to meet her and she reciprocated. Lately, I've heard her name in passing, not only as a cover singer, but also as a radio personality, like me. I'll admit, when she told me she was starting her own radio show, I was surprised. But I was greatly supportive. I still listen to her when she's on."

"I'm looking forward to seeing and hearing more from her."

Howling Moon

"I like this team a lot. As stated, I may not know much about Aoi, but he seems like a good man despite his past. I do have to wonder, though: what is their reasoning for entering the tournament? Was it due to Chuohku, like many others? Or is there something else? Zakari was as surprised as me when he heard Ruka was joining. I would have asked, but... I felt it would have been invasive or rude of me, so I didn't."

"I'll be honest: a part of me is dreading facing this team, not the least because I'm on good rapport with all of them. But I can tell each member is a lot more powerful than they seem, which isn't surprising. But whichever team wins, they'll have definitely earned it. I wish them the best of luck."

[aroace-poly-show]

ok i stumbled upon your small commentary on the omori manga and i wanted to contribute a Bit as a hardcore omori enjoyer i hope you don't mind..

i don't have a STRONG opinion on it yet, mainly due to the fact that this is still the first chapter and there will be more to come later! so i want to save any hard criticisms. but i do have to admit that some of the choices raised a question mark for me.

but i think the MAIN THING was the fact that the timeline is completely different...

the charm of omori for me was slowly piecing together small bits from headspace to faraway, and then getting slapped in the face with the Truth. the slow and doomed realization.

the way the manga is being paced at the moment doesn't really give much of that? the omori & sunny Same Guy business is very, very explicitly illustrated. the fact that mari is dead, even more so. THE SIGNIFICANCE BEHIND THE VIOLIN?!?!?!?! LIKE THAT IS. INCREDIBLY END OF THE GAME LORE THAT SHOULD PROBABLY NOT BE TOUCHED UPON UNTIL MUCH LATER?

i'm most confused about the fact that headspace was introduced AFTER faraway. like. i really wonder how they're gonna work with this, considering how impactful it is to see how much the characters have grown, how different or similar they are to their headspace versions. + the captain spaceboy and sweetheart toys and comics.. seeing all that after headspace is just so much more endearing. there is just so Much when you piece together that headspace is sunny's preserved reality, made up of all his dear childhood memories, his childhood home, his town, his favourite things. whatever was left. because he just could not live in a time where mari was dead because of him, where the home he and his friends built together would never be the same again. but i digress

i'm personally very hopeful when it comes to adaptations. i like to see how the artist interprets one story in their own way and translates those feelings in a different medium. it's fun! it's cool! i definitely have criticisms, but i wouldn't say i'm a hater either. we'll just have to see how it goes :)

sorry this got a bit too long help.. if you have anything to add please feel free i just rambled a little! but if not that's totally fine

don’t apologize for it being long i dont mind at all!! but YEAH the timelines one of my biggest things with it. especially the christmas memory being the *very first thing* its just?? an odd decision. i can’t put it into better words than you did though you get me.

[citrinedecades]

1310 - Sibling Feuds and Even More Babies

As a new decade begins, the Barrow house feels increasingly small as the children continue to grow and step on each others' toes. With only Frederik and Rosemary to take care of the harvest, the children are left to their own devices while the adults tend to the farm.

The siblings' once harmonious relationships begin to deteriorate as Noah starts to resent the oldest son Brayden for being the heir and their parents' apparent favourite, while Stefanie, who once enjoyed caring for her younger siblings, is now annoyed with all of her little brothers and wants to be left alone.

In an attempt to keep their children occupied, Rosemary and Frederik invest in a variety of toys and instruments to keep them from fighting and acting out, leading Noah to discover a passion for playing the violin.

Once the harvest is complete, Rosemary takes the children to the market so that they can play while she shops for supplies. Noah and Stefanie meet Corey, a mysterious boy they've often seen in the village but whose family they know nothing about. He avoids talking about his relatives, and Stefanie surmises that he might be an orphan and takes it upon herself to befriend him. While they play together, Stefanie can't help feeling like they're being watched, but whenever she looks around she finds no one.

The Barrows invite several neighbours to celebrate the end of the harvest, and at Stefanie's request, Corey joins them and is very interested in touring their home.

In the Baker household, Cecilia gives birth to another son, Endrio, while in the Verviers household, Gemma is relieved to have a healthy baby boy named Auguste, although she isn't certain who the father is between Sir Amis and Sir Lucan.

While neither Sir Amis nor Sir Lucan take particular interest in the newborn baby, Tobias is happy to greet the new member of their family and often volunteers to take care of him. Gemma and him spend more time getting to know each other, and their relationship begins to deepen. She suspects Lucan will never have her best interests at heart, while Tobias is generous and kind, and so she decides to start earning his trust in case Sir Amis passes away and Sir Lucan turns his back on her.

In the Barrow household, Rosemary has a difficult labour and loses her newborn son Carl. Her only consolation is to see that her other children are thriving, and she pays special attention to her youngest child Adrianna, who she suspects might be her last child.

Gabriella, Frederik's much younger half-sister from his father's second marriage, becomes increasingly air-headed as she ages and is often in a daze. She can often be found having conversations with various inanimate objects around the homestead and walks as though she's on a cloud.

As the year pulls to a close, the Barrow family receives their family and neighbours again for a Yule celebration. In Henford, Gemma discovers she is pregnant again, much to her dismay.

Births: Endrio Baker Auguste Verviers

Deaths: Carl Barrow • 1310 • Stillborn

[spinchs-field]

A night out on another planet's town; in which the crew gets ready

woooo part two! this was NOT supposed to be this long but my little peanut brain just couldn't stop typing so. here we are. because this part is so long i might split this story into four parts lol. anyway, enjoy [ part one ] word count: 2,049

Ashes carefully hooks a cufflink on their sleeve, glancing up at Tim periodically. 

“You have your own room, you know,” Ashes says with a smile. 

“I know,” Tim responds, leaning close to the mirror as he applies his eyeliner. “But all my clothes are in your room.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” Ashes walks up to the mirror, grabbing a tie on the way there. 

Tim glances at them in the mirror. He smiles gently. “You look good.”

Ashes looms over Tim as they put on their tie. They tilt their head, grimacing. “This tie doesn’t, though.”

Tim waves his hand dismissively. “Bah, it looks fine. You’re overthinking.”

“It just doesn’t look good.” They untie it and pull it off, tossing it on their bed. “The colour looks weird.”

Tim finally pulls away from the mirror and glances at the tie. He leans back, propping his chin up on his hand as he watches Ashes. “It’s just red.”

Ashes digs around in their closet drawers, pushing aside the clothes Tim stuffed in them. “Not the right, uh… the right shade, y’know?”

Tim snorts. “How many ties do you even have?”

Ashes grabs a shirt with a cat on it and waves it at him. “How many cat shirts do you have?” They fold it up and place it carefully into a shirt drawer. 

“Alright, fair,” Tim laughs as he turns back to face the mirror. He stares quietly at himself for a moment, crossing his arms. “What colour eyeshadow should I use?”

“Don’t you do eyeliner after eyeshadow?” Ashes asks, finally pulling two ties from the mess of clothes. 

Tim squints at them in the mirror. “No. I was just doing the stuff on my cheeks and eyebrows.”

“Oh,” Ashes drawls as they make their way back to the mirror. “We could match, if you want to.”

“Match my makeup to your tie?”

Ashes shrugs. “It’d be funny.”

“Absolutely not,” Tim says with a smile. “You should wear the blue one.”

Ashes holds the tie up for a moment before letting out a short hum and putting it on. They glance down at Tim, holding back a small laugh as they watch him gather up blue eyeshadow on a brush. 

“Hurry up!” Jonny hollers as he clumsily puts on his suit jacket. 

“I’m trying to eat, arsehole!” Ivy shouts back with a mouth full of cereal. 

“We can eat when we get on the planet, arsehole!” Jonny sneers. 

Ivy grabs a single piece of her cereal and chucks it at him. He dodges out of the way, struggling with a cufflink. 

“Jonny, you look horrible, hold still,” Raphaella says to him in a gentle voice, taking hold of his wrist. 

Jonny grumbles and just goes along with it. 

“Should I bring my violin?” Marius asks from behind the bar, preparing a drink for himself.

Nastya reaches over him for a shot glass and grabs a bottle of straight tequila. “I could bring mine, too. We can play together.”

“That sounds lovely,” Marius responds with a sharp smile. 

Raphaella perks up, tail wagging excitedly. “Oh! Can I bring my keyboard?”

Jonny snatches his wrist away as soon as Raphaella gets the cufflink on. “Absolutely not. We’re bringing our guns and knives, and nothing else.”

“I thought we were going for a good time?” Brian asks as he slowly floats toward the ceiling. He takes notice of this and calls for Ivy to help him down. 

“We are,” Jonny says harshly. “Where’s my gun?

Nastya raises her shot glass, waving it slightly. “I have it.”

“Well, give it to me,” Jonny demands.

“Nope,” Nastya responds with a grin as she brings the class to her lips. “Busy.”

Jonny grumbles under his breath and pushes himself over to Nastya, trying his best not to knock over any bottles of alcohol. 

The crew continue bickering for some time, eating breakfast, threatening each other’s lives, and slowly getting drunk. 

Eventually, the Toy Soldier pipes up, “Where are Ashes and Tim?”

The entire kitchen grows tense for a split second. The Toy Soldier had been sitting so silently at the table that it practically vanished. Plus, the thing never asked questions outside of an offering of tea.

The room went dead silent before Marius looked around the room, confused. 

“Yeah,” he drawls. “Where are they? Weren’t they the ones to invite us to this party?”

All was hush again. 

Jonny’s face slowly contorts into one of disgust as a thought enters his mind. His head snaps up toward a monitor, voice harsh with anger. “Aurora! Tell them to get the fuck down here!”

Nastya kicks him in the side. “Be nice.”

“Fuck you!” Jonny snaps. He pulls out his gun and lines it up right between Nastya’s eyes. 

She’s quick to draw her own gun, slapping his gun out of his grip and pressing her’s against his chest. 

Jonny just scowls at her. 

“Could you two calm down?” Ivy asks, face now buried in a book. “You’ll ruin your clothes.”

“My suit is red, I’ll be fine,” Jonny responds, pushing Nastya’s hand away and hurrying over to his gun. 

“Yeah, but you’ll make a mess.”

“I think Jonny looks nice with blood splatters!” The Toy Soldier says with a smile.

“Shut up,” Jonny demands. 

“Okay!” The Toy Soldier responds cheerily before going dead silent again. 

“Good God, you never let the thing speak!” Raphaella says sadly. 

“It’s creepy,” Jonny snaps as he holsters his gun.

“Tough!” She turns to the Toy Soldier and pats it on the head. “You can speak, Toy Soldier.”

Jonny groans and looks around the room. Still no Tim or Ashes. He grimaces. 

“Imagine they already left,” Brian laughs. 

“We got all fancied up for nothing?” The Toy Soldier asks, tilting its head.

“I sure hope not,” Brian responds, eyes flicking over to look at the door to the kitchen.

There’s a long, awkward pause. Everyone slowly turns to face the door, expecting the two “hosts” of the party to come walking in at just the right moment. Tension grows, and the silence becomes deafening. 

Marius sighs and takes a sip of his drink, shaking his head.

Raphaella rests her chin on her hands and asks the Toy Soldier to go get some tea ready.

Just as the Toy Soldier stands up, the looming shadow of Ashes creeps into the doorway, followed shortly behind by Tim. 

“I see we’re all ready,” Ashes says as they make their way in. 

There’s a collective sigh, and Jonny looks damn near ready to scream.

“What?” Tim asks, peeking out from behind Ashes. “You all look like you just left a funeral!”

“You were taking for-fucking-ever!” Jonny shouts, his anger finally coming to a boil. “We were about to just give up on this dumbass party because you two were off doing who knows what! Probably each other!”

Ashes can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles out of their chest. Tim barks out a laugh and steps into the room. He pretends to wipe away tears he can’t shed. 

Jonny tenses up as more giggles fill the room. He throws death glares at everyone, hand hovering over his gun. 

“Calm down, Jonny boy. I just kept messing up my makeup,” Tim says between laughs, patting Jonny on the shoulder. 

Jonny glares at Tim before tossing a glance up at Ashes. Smeared remains of lipstick cling to the edges of their lips. Jonny turns back to Tim, who just smiles like he has no idea what’s got Jonny in such a twist. 

Jonny shoves Tim away and shouts for Brian to do his job as pilot of the ship. 

Brian hums in thought for a moment before grinning. “And why should I listen to you?”

“Because I’m your captain—“

“First mate,” Ivy cuts in before anyone else can. 

Tim frowns. “Hey! That’s my thing!”

“Both of you shut up!” Jonny snaps at them before turning back to Brian. “Because I’m your captain—“ 

“First mate,” Tim quickly adds. 

“—and I’m going to dismantle you if you don’t land this fucking ship.” As soon as he finishes speaking, Jonny whips around and slaps Tim on the back of his head. 

Tim’s left eye pops out with the force of the blow, and he quickly snatches it out of the air and puts it back in. He grimaces at Jonny before moving over to Ashes. 

Brian sighs, putting up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, I’ll go land the ship.”

Brian makes his way out of the room, tipping his hat as he floats through the doorway. 

At that moment, Nastya seems to remember something. She hurries after Brian, a giddy look on her face. 

The room is quiet again, save for the sounds of the Toy Soldier preparing tea. No-one dares speak. 

Except for Marius, who leans back to see what the Toy Soldier is doing as he speaks. “What’re you making?”

“Chamomile,” the Toy Soldier responds. It turns around to face Marius. “Is there another tea you’d like?”

“Is chamomile all we have?” Raphaella asks from the table. 

The Toy Soldier turns its attention to her. “No. We have matcha, earl grey, and silver needle, as well.”

“Good God. I’m leaving,” Jonny grumbles, pushing past Ashes and most likely to where Brian and Nastya were headed.

“Silver needle? Never heard of that,” Marius says, somewhat to himself.

“It’s quite good! Would you like to try it?” The Toy Soldier asks excitedly.

Marius hums, looking down at his cocktail. “Nah, already got me a drink.”

“Ah! Quite alright!” The Toy Soldier sounds slightly defeated as it says that. It turns to Raphaella. “Would you like some?”

Raphaella glances out the window, trying to calculate how close they are to the planet and how long it would take to land, given Brian doesn’t go full steam ahead and nearly crash the ship. 

“I’ll have some,” Ivy pipes up, raising her hand.

“Me too,” Raphaella adds with a smile. 

“Lovely!” The Toy Soldier chirps. “How about you two lads?” It asks, turning to Ashes and Tim.

“Oh! I want some chamomile!” Tim answers eagerly, making his way to the table.

“I’ll pass,” Ashes says, turning away. “Gotta make sure Jonny doesn’t kill anyone when we land.”

“Right-ho! Farewell, Ashes O’reilly!” 

“Yeah, you too, TS.”

Ashes enters the room to the sound of bickering. Quiet bickering, but bickering nonetheless. 

“Well, find one, then!” Jonny says harshly.

“I’m trying! Get out of my face!” Brian responds, elbowing Jonny in the side.

“What’re you looking for?” Ashes asks as they head over to the controls. 

“A spot to land. I could’ve sworn I saw a dock somewhere.”

“They’ll make us pay a fee for that. Just land in the brush, or something,” Jonny says, pointing to nowhere in particular. 

“What brush?” Brian asks with a twinge of anger. “It’s all cities! Do you see any plants outside of gardens?”

“Oh, just crash the ship already.”

“Absolutely not!” Brian snaps. “Nastya, get your dumb brother away from the controls.”

“Gladly,” Nastya says as she grabs Jonny by the collar of his shirt and yanks him back.

Jonny lets out a strained yelp as he struggles to balance himself. 

Ashes moves closer to the controls, eyes scanning the surface of the planet. Behind them, they can hear Jonny and Nastya arguing, but decide to just block out the sound. 

“There’s a dock,” Ashes says quickly, pointing to it. “Far enough for an easy landing.”

“Thank you,” Brian says, tossing a glare at Jonny. “Finally, something useful.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Jonny snaps before delving back into his argument. 

Brian pulls in the solar sail and turns on the coms, leaning close to the microphone. 

“Hello, stowaways, this is your pilot speaking. We’re getting ready to land, so grab onto anything that’s bolted down and hold on tight. Gravity’s gonna be a bitch.”

Brian buckles himself to the seat, and Ashes takes hold of one of the armrests. Jonny and Nastya brace themselves on the door handle, still arguing.

Brian smiles like a madman as he kicks on the engines for the first time in a few ten-thousand years, laughing at the roar that explodes throughout the ship. The entirety of the Aurora rattles to life, and Brian cackles as he sends her screaming toward the planet below.

[mysteriousanderfels]

Dante/Vergil Oneshot

This piece is heavily inspired and referenced from my favorite DMC writer and her ageless and peerless Consanguinity. I immensily recommand to check it out to fully understand the reference and setting behind this little piece. She's the best thing to happen to the DV fandom and the best one to ever give life and voice to Vergil since the devs.

It’s not thundering outside. It’s not even raining and they both just joined their beddings, yet Dante sneaks into his twin brother’s bedroom, under his duvet and next to his body before the latter has even time to warm his bedsheets. 

Vergil isn’t fazed. He complements the behavior with a grouse, a peeve or just sigh sometimes—depending on Dante's conduct throughout the day, and other times, he says nothing and welcomes his twin’s habit with a scoot or a hand lifting up the covers.

They’re thirteen now and they outgrew a number of things for a while. Their father’s swords replaced their makeshift ones, their clothes don’t come from the same closet anymore, Vergil doesn’t write his name on his belongings anymore because Dante doesn’t snag them anymore. His favorite books, his favorite toys, his favorite instrument, they’re all things eight years old Dante loved to paw at because his twin is supposed to share everything with him since he’s sharing everything with Vergil.

“We’re twins! What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine!”

(You have all my attention so I want all of yours)

Yes, Dante and Vergil outgrew a number of things now.

But not all.

Dante’s love for firearms for example, Vergil’s love for the violin and Dante’s habit for slipping into Vergil’s bed at night.

It started when they were still infants, whenever it was raining or Dante had a bad dream. Dante would pad to Vergil’s bedroom, creak the door open, Vergil would tip his head up, see his brother’s small silhouette and Dante would slip in next to him, clutch the pillow always there for him and breathe out restfully under the hand patting his hair.

But the pretense of storms or nightmares was dropped for a while now. 

At least they outgrew that part.

Something happened a week ago.

Something that will change them forever—but they don't know that yet.

Something that will ascend and descend them to heaven and hell—but later on.

For now, Vergil has poised his lips on Dante’s one cidery-redolent autumn evening, amidst the fallen apples and leaves at the edge of the garden, after Dante lost a sparring with their father's swords.

The world, the life, the ecosystem Dante knew and would know altered off their axis - forever.

“You are not my enemy. You’re my brother and I am yours. So let it be for once, Dante.”

Now Dante burrows into Vergil’s duvet; the little ritual reenacting itself after a week of abstinence and slight avoidance.

His brother rambles about something for a good time. Vergil allows the droning sound of his hushed timber with a resting pout as it shall transport him to the realms of Morpheus soon, he knows. Dante's voice is never more pleasant than when it's under the obligation of quietness.

But his little brother seems more fussy than usual as he doesn’t only burrow into the duvet and sheets but snuggles closer and closer, until he’s comfortable enough to reveal his ploy by kissing Vergil’s lips all at once. “That’s payback for earlier by the way,” he lowly states when he pulls back. 

It’s just a peck. Chaste and chary like the boy who's just delivered it if the way Dante’s quick withdrawal is anything to judge by.

“Dante.”

“This way I know I’ll have the upperhand before the day’s over.”

“... What?”

“For pushing me in mom’s favorite flower bush earlier. I know you’ll be too scared to get back at me this way.”

It’s true. Vergil hasn’t tried to touch the forbidden fruit ever since he took a bite; but as everyone knows with that particular tale, the damage was already done.

Vergil quietly surveys his brother lying next to him; his shimmering profile bathed in the tender light of the moonrise, his cocky statement betrayed by evasive eyes, a smirk that can’t stop twitching and fists that fidget around the duvet.

Vergil sees all this endearing beauty and it doesn’t deplete the chagrin brimming in his pale, blue eyes, for beneath those still, arctic lakes simmer a blue fire—and isn't it the hottest part of a flame? The part that burns so readily and intensely? So enduringly and devastatingly…

“You’re right. I’m scared.”

Dante is all haughty and winsome when he replies, “Tsk, I knew it.”

“I’m scared to hurt you if I do something similar.”

Dante whips his head in a scramble of flaxen white strands and stares at Vergil with a dent between his brows. He states matter-of-factly, “You’ll never hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You’ll never hurt me. And even if you do, I think it’s gonna be a good hurt.”

Vergil’s silver eyebrow cocks up. “A good hurt?” What is his brother saying? Is he even aware of what he's doing?

Dante leans close–closer, one hand slipping under the expensive silk of the pillow, the other balled in a fist against his bottom lip.

Pain in pleasure and pleasure in pain, that’s what his brother’s probably trying to convey in his plain, homespun words. 

Vergil had come across the concept in a few poems. Or Perhaps he’s guilessly alluding to the clattering thrill they feel every time they viciously spar - these secret quivers felt as if standing upon the verge of imminent peril—and loving it.

This dark pleasure domesticated after learning they were unable to kill each other. 

Right. ‘A good hurt.’

“Yeah, ‘m just saying, I dunno," Dante fumbles with a pout now. "What I mean is I'm not scared of anything… and I trust you.”

What Dante doesn't understand is that it's not about the quintessential ways of being scared or hurt. Vergil - in his visionary sense beyond his youthful age - is foreboding that thinning the fabric of their strong bond to a translucent premise will cause hurt where they usually feel those secret quivers in combat - in that deep, deep solemn place where affection and affliction are born and bolstered.

Dante is so fiery. When he loses, when he bites the dust and time’s up, he gets this ardent look in his eyes that threatens to consume his own vision.

Helping him off the ground, hands clutched and unwilling to let go, Vergil pitching Dante forward to break the impasse was the mistake. 

He took him off guard, yes. Dante caught himself short of his face and looked even more accusatory, yes. But something in his eyes changed. The ardent look subsided, replaced by something searching and… unknown.

But it was too quick for Vergil to know what it was - the moment but fleeting seconds and insufficient to decipher something as fickle as his dear little brother. 

And his little brother was so fickle, for after the fire and the caesura, came the void.

Vergil is used to seeing himself reflected in the flames of those eyes. Has felt himself burned and consumed in them time and again like a fort meant to be conquered. But that day, in that fleeting moment where Dante was pitched short of his face, Vergil saw himself burn to a crisp in his brother’s gaze.

No fort anymore. Just barren soil; and he felt his chest tighten like never before, for it was a deep sense of loss and small, lovely Vergil never knew what that is, even with their father still not back home.

In his introspection, Vergil forgot that he left Dante hanging, but he knows not to worry too much about that as his roguish brother always finds the best ways to draw his attention. 

"I kissed Evelynn the other day."

Vergil's brow twitches.

With eyes glazed by tiredness and apathy, he let out a small “Oh.”

Dante shrugs. "Yeah. ‘twas nice," he marks a pause on purpose, making sure his brother either meets his eyes or at least grasp the full impact of his next words. But his twin doesn't meet him in the eyes so Dante lets the bomb drop in an undertone, "but not as nice." 

It's enough to drag Vergil's placid gaze all the way up their mirror image - but he stays silent. Dante is trying to rattle him and the fact’s as clear as his blue eyes. Maybe he should try to do the same.

‘Maybe you should try the gardener’s son, then,’ Vergil’s wit quickly devises, but refrain from using the comeback for the simple and good reason that he wouldn’t mean it.

It’s appalling enough that he’s made Dante dispense kisses and God knows what as a trial run. He doesn’t want to give him the impression that he should peruse more.

“She said my hair’s pretty but it’s too white. And mom keeps telling us that we’re very special...”

“I don’t think kissing your brother is what mom meant by ‘special’.”

“I’ll probably regret saying this later but right now, I don’t give a damn about mom.” 

“That’s not very nice.” 

“And you’re chickenshit,” Dante rebuts, turning away to face the high ceiling with a pout, finally doing something that reflects their age.  

And Vergil could leave it here. The chokehold of this ungodly discussion reached.

Blue peppers observe and deconstruct in the deep silence that sets.

They map out the situation and Dante’s dainty profile and slowly, slowly, the vines of something errant grow through the reasoning loam of the elder brother’s mind…

(In this moment, I admit I felt betrayed, my brother. Betrayed by my integrity and my nerves. Nerves I thought colder than millennial glaciers. In one moment, a single movement, a lone incentive, you made everything melt away. And by everything, I mean all - me, you, the rules we live in, the normalcy Mother strived to keep us in.

I lean in and kiss your neck and send it all flying into the breeze.)

It’s vowed to fail like Néron’s reign, but for now—just for now, they’ll indulge the sinful Rome.

Dante gasps and jolts in surprise. Vergil has already assumed his previous position by the time Dante faces him. 

“What was that?”

“What you wanted.”

Dante frowns. “That’s not what I wanted.”

“What did you want then,” Vergil asks without asking, stifling a sigh the best he can. He feels out of his element and on the edge as if the power of macrocosm is pouring on him with a chastising glare. 

"I don't want anything," Dante says and keeps on sulking like Achilles in his tent.

"Don't call me chickenshit then."

"But you are. Heh. You're the one saying you're scared."

"Yes. Scared to hurt you, idiot."

"Hurt me with what? That? Psh. That didn't even faze me.”

Vergil holds Dante in a fierce glare. Oh, he wants to be fazed, huh? He wants to feel the goosebumps. He wants to be shocked. 

 Vergil scowls, hackles raised by the effect of these foolish taunts and his brother's twinkling eyes forever challenging and beguiling.

A virginal gaze.

His pantheon to blaze.

And Vergil will show him ‘faze’.

He grabs his jaw at once and delivers a kiss to it - soft and at odds with the stern grip that allows it - but he doesn’t stop there. 

He presses his soft lips a second time slightly below, then again further down and Vergil is kissing down Dante’s neck without knowing that he had just opened the fabled box—with the gentleness of bow-shaped lips.

But Vergil can’t know that now. They’re just thirteen and all he cares about at this moment is Dante's proficiently shutted mouth.

Vergil takes a peek at Dante from beneath his silver lashes and sees his little brother’s expression definitely not unfazed.

He pulls away then with the smoothness of his precious Yamato being pulled away and settles back against his pillow.

He knows it’s wrong. He knows he shouldn’t bite the forbidden fruit twice. He just… needs to set his brother still for a damned second. Just show him that he won’t be a pushover in his own beddings. And perhaps set still something else inside him, too. Something deeply ferocious that’s beginning to rear its head with every day that goes by.

Dante stares at him, a shock delivered to his spirit like the vibrations of a bell which his brother has tolled across the citadel of his body, down to the deep galleries of his soul.

Vergil prides himself for a moment at the result. Dante is quiet, contemplating and breath-stolen—just the way he likes him. 

But that is not knowing Dante—or his innate inferno.

He springs up, abrupt as a string that snaps beneath the bow and descends on Vergil.

He descends on Vergil lips first and reason last - always a loser this one - and from this moment on, it’s like a vice has closed on them—the thinned out fabric of their bond ruptured but quickly gathered into something else - and onward will only be the path of suffering the burden of this newborn troth.

But they don’t know that yet.

For now, something is happening. Something huge like hurricanes, tornados and boys with blue eyes—blue eyes kept wide open��

When they part for breath, their silver-blue gaze mirrors the other like two predators unwilling to drop their guard first.

Or like two starstruck lovers.

“You didn’t close your eyes,” Dante states.

“You didn’t either,” answers Vergil.

“‘twas to make sure you won’t skedaddle.”

“This is my bed. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I see… well, in that case…” Dante rests his palm above Vergil’s eyes and slides it down softly. “Let’s try this way out now…”

And Dante covers his brother again.

Imagine a perfect hideaway without a time.

Imagine a perfect eden without a serpent.

Imagine you’re thirteen and you’ve discovered the meaning of a pure kiss…

[lady-maria-the-wolf225]

a Short Mikey kitten story Part 1: (You're going to love this!)

Mikey being his usual self while irritating his brothers. call you on his phone while making kissy noises, rocket boarding all over the place, and most of all always begging his family about keeping a cat in the lair. Mikey always wanted a pet of his own. he feels his heart is half empty that besides having a human girlfriend, having a pet would make him feel whole. but sadly, none of his brothers even master splinter refuses to let him have a cat. So every night whenever there wasn't any patrols, or helping with chief Vincient on crimes at night, Mikey would sneak out of the lair and hang out at ally ways and empty streets where cats that ran away from home unable to go back or just natural street cats come out of the shadows. Mikey would bring Tuna, water, and a makeship cat toy made of a small fishing line, with a string and toy mouse attached to it. Mikey would also talk to the cats all the time. "I wish I could bring you guys home with me. but my dumbass brothers won't let me. I know how it's like being alone. it really sucks." just then the sun was rising, and Mikey says goodbye to the cats. as he leaves, he would hear the cats meowing which tears up his heart strings like a broken violin which is understandable to most animal lovers seeing pets on the streets. while he was heading home, he suddenly hears a tiny meow coming from one of the dumpsters. he jumps down and notices a small box. in the box was a tiny 8-week-old turtle shell patterned female Maine coon. Mikey picks her up and looked at her. "Hey there little gal. where's your mama?" the kitten had no mother at all and no warmth. he felt that she was freezing and needed a home. So Mikey decided to take her in and hopes that his brothers would be okay on having him keep a kitten instead of a usual grown-up cat. Mikey quietly got to the lair and grabbed Donnie's heating blanket, and a baby bottle with warmed up whole milk. he sets the kitten down on the blanket and warmed it up making sure he doesn't set it to scorching hot. he then fed the kitten and smiled. "I forgot I didn't give ya a name. hmm. let's see. your fur is like my shell, and you have a sweet loving personality." he thought and thought for a long while until he finally got one. "I got it! I'm gonna name you Cookie. how's that sound?" he pets her and hears her purring. his heart melted when he heard her purring for the first time. he lays down and yawned as he puts her next to him. "Goodnight cookie." he kisses her and soon falls asleep feeling whole and happy. that morning, Mikey was deeply asleep until his brothers shouted at him. "MIKEYYY!! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!!" Mikey jumped in fright as he heard them. he got up from his bed, and shakingly walked towards them. "Y-yeah bros?" Leo held out Cookie by her fur with one hand and Mikey tries to grab her. "No Leo! don't hold Cookie like that! she is fragile and isn't hurting anybody!" Raph scoffs at his younger brother. "Oh fuck. he gave it a name too." Mikey looks at Raph upset. "SHE is not an IT!" Donnie asks Mikey in a serious tone. "Where did you get this cat from? and it's bigger than a regular cat." Mikey explains to Donnie. "First off, I found her by the garbage dump. she was all alone, cold, and starving. so, I took her in hoping you guys can say yes in having me keeping her, and second, she is a Maine coon Donnie. you don't know anything about cats more than I do! so back off!!" Leo talks to Mikey very sternly. "Mikey! the kitten has to go by tonight! you understand?" Mikey suddenly starts to tear up as his heart begins to shatter. Raph gets annoyed and spoke. "Ugh! here we go with the crying! Grow up Mikey! quit acting like a damn 3-year-old! you're a grown man! that cat has got to go, and that is final! ya got that? get over it!" Mikey grabs the kitten and runs off crying his eyes out. he slams his bedroom door, and his brothers shook their heads thinking they are living with an adult man child. Mikey held onto Cookie crying on his bed feeling saddened by all this unsure what to do at this point. hopefully he can think of another way.

TO BE CONTINUED.... @raisin-shell @kawaiibunga @raphslovemuffin80 @nikitaboeve @selfless1978 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @turtlesmakemehappy @shikobahkin @angelcatlowyn @mysticboombox @turtle-babe83 @foreignbrunette @nittleboo @thelaundrybitch @dai-su-kiss @cowabunga-doll @roxosupreme