bear dummy!

Shaw lives out of two bags: one in the subway and one at Root’s place. Root tries to convince her to put her clothes in the closet, but Shaw insists that that’s not necessary since they don’t live together.  Root will make remarks about “our apartment” and Shaw will correct her, “your apartment.”  Root wonders aloud about how come she keeps finding Shaw’s guns stashed all over her apartment, since they don’t live together. 

And then one day Root comes home from a mission and Shaw’s clothes are neatly folded in the spare drawer of Root’s dresser. There’s a toothbrush next to Root’s in the bathroom cupboard, a real one, not a disposable travel-sized one. And Bear is on the bed, which explains why Harold has been frantically calling all morning. 

Imagine going camping with Rafael and he hates it.

Requested by anon.

Warning: Barba fluff, adorableness

Keep reading

Love is having two kids and living a happy, domestic life with your worst enemy

Babies cry, it’s a given.
Babies also cry very early in the morning, this could be because they’re hungry, or they need to be changed, or because they feel lonely, any new parents will tell you that it’s almost constant crying.
Unfortunately, Tom and Tord didn’t really know that, they’re both pretty useless and don’t enjoy listening to suggestions; suggestions like ‘Don’t put the fork in the outlet, ‘Don’t wear that trench coat’ and ‘Don’t have kids’.
Which is what brings us to the present day, where they have two sons.
Their oldest son is named Scribble, a delightful, if vicious little boy who tends to bite and chase the postman, he’s sweet to his dads and the extended family of their friends and family and loves to run around like a feral dog.

Their youngest was still a small baby, just shy of three months and very loud, he was named Tommee and had a small tuft of dark brown hair that spiked up like a bad hairstyle, he was actually pretty quiet most of the time, very shy and calm compared to his loud and destructive brother, but his wailing could be mistaken for a murder victim, it was shrill and ear splitting.
His cries are so painful in fact, that when he was born Tord debated on bringing the baby monitors out of retirement just so he could get some sleep.
Eventually they did end up using the monitors and woke up every night at three am because the baby was hungry, needed changing, or wanted to be held.
Tord is the one to wake up to him crying, as usual, and groans loudly, the clock beside him shows 4:27 am rather than 3 and Tord feels a little respect that his tiny soldier let him have an extra hour.

Still, he doesn’t want to get up immediately, his and Tom’s room lacks a radiator and gets very cold at night so they keep their electric blanket on, and he’d be damned if he had to leave the comfort and warmth for his own flesh and blood.
He has a perfectly good husband to do that for him.

“Thomas.” No immediate response, Tord is thankful he isn’t dying.
“Thomas, get up.” He rolls over to face him, eyes are shut firmly and there’s dried drool on his forehead.
“I know you’re awake.” Tom groans loudly and opens his eyes to Tord, they water a little as he yawns.
“I’m not going to get him tonight.” He grumbles and turns away from Tord, attempting to get back to sleep when he feels a pair of lips at the back of his neck.
“Please?” Tord whispers sweetly against his neck, pressing tiny kisses over his skin, each time he moves his lips there’s a small, wet popping sound that drives him nuts.
“You love me so much, right?” He shifts to begin kissing his throat and jaw now, leaving Tom a blushing mess of a man who’s trying desperately hard not to laugh.
“Fine! But this is the last time.” Tord props himself up onto his knees and smiles innocently as Tom sits up and leaves the room griping.

“Shh, I got ya Tommee, no more tears.” Tord hears through the monitor and the baby’s crying quietens just a little bit, more whimpering than screaming now, Tord’s heart flips at the sweet moment and seconds later Tom is back cradling their little boy to his chest and getting back into bed, Tommee is hiccuping and whimpering around the edges of his teddy bear dummy and reaches his hands out towards Tord, who takes him without complaint.
“Hi Tommee baby, are you lonely?” He coos and the baby almost instantly settles down in his arms.
“I can’t believe he likes you more than me.” Tom scoots over to lean his head on Tord’s shoulder and Tord hums as they watch the baby’s tiny chest rise and fall as he sleeps.
“Now you know how I felt when Scribble was little.” Tom lets out a puff of warm air through his nose that Tord recognises as a laugh.

'Speak of the devil and he doth cometh.’ Is the saying, and Tord isn’t religious but he figures it must be true, because as soon as his sentence is over Scribble is standing in the doorway in his Batman PJs.
“What doing?” He clambers onto the bed and into Tom’s lap to watch Tommee too.
“Just putting your brother back to bed, kid.” Scribble nods and lays back into Tom’s chest.
“I can sleep here tonight dada?” He looks up at Tom with his quivering lip and puppy dog eyes combo and Tom melts instantly.
“'Course, let’s get nice and cosy.” Scribble cheers very quietly so as not to wake up Tommee and settles himself down next to Tom in the king sized bed.
Tord looks between the bed, Tommee and the open door and decides that it isn’t worth getting up and leaving this scene of his beloved husband and sons in a peaceful moment and decides that Tommee could sleep on his chest for the night.
“Yes, Thomas?”
There’s a pause, as if Tom is thinking.
“Thank you for giving me what I’ve always wanted.” His right hand moves to cover Tord’s left hand and squeeze it gently.
“I love you.”
Tord squeezes back and feels sleep begin to take him, he mutters a response of 'Jeg elsker deg’ back and knows Tom will understand the powerful meaning behind the short sentence, because that’s what love is.

When I make a promise I stay up all night to finish it.
This is the first fic since I came back so I figured a fluffy fic would be appropriate.
Will be uploaded to Ao3 tomorrow


Hey there I noticed that you have said several time that if you do think that you can’t control then in the neutral/pacifist route its Frisk, and in the genocide route is Chara, but there is evidence in the game against it: the dummy, I don’t have a screen shot of it (because I don’t know how to make a collage, or got to every single mad dummy fight) but I do have a picture from the coding (thanks to Undertale Science) how hard you punch the dummy is something that you can’t directly control but is still done by the same persone (Frisk) this shows that not all actions you can’t control are by either by Chara or Frisk, and if this changes without having Chara’s control some (if not all) of the Genocide actions could still be Frisk! But why? My theory is that based on how sans described LOVE, and how the more you kill the more you distance yourself. I think Frisk’s LV is starting to make him less interested in the monsters, stepping on their puzzles, making weird smiles etc… What do you think? I am very proud of this, its my first theory


(undertale spoilers)

That is correct, the higher the LOVE the harder Frisk hits the dummy, and the narration steadily transitions from feeling “bad” to not caring to feeling “good.” This is one of the few situations affected by LOVE level and not kill count.

As you mentioned, Sans explains that a higher LOVE will make it easier to hurt others. This is definitely paralleled in the interactions with the dummy.

The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself.
The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt.
The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.

Interestingly enough, Sans never mentions that a high LOVE can make killing feel “good.” Enjoying violence goes beyond mere apathy, and based on how much smiling happens in the genocide route, the dummy punching seems to be a sign of Chara’s influence more than Frisk. It’s possible that as Frisk “distances” themself, it leaves more room for Chara’s personality to show through. It also bears mentioning the dummy punching commentary becomes more vague about who the feelings may belong to, transitioning from “You feel bad” (implicating Frisk) to a cryptic “Feels good.” 

Whereas these feelings could belong to Frisk as you said, contextual evidence supports that these feelings belong to Chara, even in neutral routes.  Based on this, we’ve concluded that the dummy punching is both a measurement of LOVE and a sign of Chara’s influence over Frisk.


ask-the-little-misfit-filly Why? Why did you make me do this? I thought we were friends with benefits. i MEAN IT’S REALLY SHORT AND NOT THAT WELL DONE BUT STILL


Aiiiight as promised I visited snowabi’s Dream Address and took pictures! I don’t know how these types of posts usually work… So I guess I’ll just wing it and see what comes out!

First of all, thank you for letting me look so darned fabulous. A bear with a dummy (that’s a pacifier for you American humanoids) and I even got a matching balloon! Wowwie, so fashionable. OHO! And I remembered the socks this time are you proud?

Don’t believe him when he says that his town is nothing special - it’s hella pretty! I took a whole bunch of pictures but obviously they don’t all fit here, so I tried to pick the nicest ones. Well worth all the hard work! If you find Wendell you can also pick from a selection of designs which is a super cute addition! *wink* You’re welcome.

I don’t really know what else to say beyond gushing tbh, but despite never using the Dream Suite, I actually really enjoyed myself! Definitely go visit guys - especially if you’re looking for inspiration! ^-^