#{(some are headcanons. others are just..things i noticed)}

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

DEATHSTROKE!READER HEADCANONS CUZ YALL LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Deathstroke reader's hair is fried, like it was back when they used to be Robin. They used to straighten their hair to an unreasonable amount. Actually, think of Steph back in her Robin days—that was literally the reader's hair back when they were Robin, but it didn't work well for their hair type, resulting in terrible and irreversible hair damage. When they joined Deathstroke, they shaved all their hair off and started fresh. Fresh hair. The reader has a buzz cut that is gelled to be spiky and styled; it's actually pretty good. They used to dye their hair a lot, like blonde, which also contributed to the hair damage. Last but not least, the Wilson family loves to rub your freshly buzzed hair.

Deathstroke reader has acne around their face, which is basically your fault because you wear a lot of makeup, causing some acne. Also, your mask makes you sweat, clogging your pores. You've been thinking about getting a skincare routine, but you're too lazy, so Rose does your skincare every now and then. Your acne isn't really noticeable; it's just there. But as long as you keep up with those face masks, you'll be fine.

Deathstroke reader is non-binary; they go by all pronouns and wear both masculine and feminine clothing. They used to only wear masculine clothes back in their Robin days because they hated femininity due to their mother. I'll get into this deeper in a later fic. Deathstroke reader is also around 19 to mid-20s; I wanted to make them older compared to the other readers, who are either in high school or in college. Deathstroke reader is pretty tall, like basketball-level tall, standing right next to Slade's shoulder.

Deathstroke reader smokes; Rose does too, and I'm pretty sure I saw a comic where Slade smokes. It runs in the family, I guess, but you can't find your lighter anywhere—borrowed by Rose, or you lost it some way, somehow. So you find intricate ways to light a cigarette. Hell yeah, the Flash's electric speed definitely helps your Green Lantern boyfriend light your cigarette for you. Totally, Deathstroke reader will literally walk up to Bruce, smoking in his face. The rest of the Bat Family hates the fact that you smoke, scolding you and saying it's bad for you, like you're some child, even though you're about to be pushing 30. It gets on your nerves.

Deathstroke reader isn't much into relationships; mostly, they have meaningless flings. When you're thinking about getting into a relationship, you're already waking up with someone gone. You have an ongoing fling with Constantine—not a serious relationship, really; it’s routine at this point. You call him up for a favor or he does, and you both get a drink, maybe a smoke. You end up at his dank apartment, then you leave the next day. You don't intend on staying, and you don't intend on loving him either, but he's developing warm feelings in his chest because of you. You always have to remind him it's just a fling. Roy, on the other hand, isn't so easily persuaded. That ginger will not believe it started as a one-time thing. The moment he saw you playing around with Lian was the moment he declared you his. So gentle with her, so sweet; you only say it's because you have siblings, but he knows better. The nights you two spent together are passionate and sweet, but you always seem to leave his bed with no intention of coming back. You're breaking his heart.

When Deathstroke reader was Robin, they had internalized misogyny within them, not just because the Robin mantle used to be for guys, but also because of their relationship with their mom. Think about the "I Hate My Mom" song by GRLwood—like, they used to hate almost anything feminine because it reminded them of their mother: long nails, makeup, eyelashes, dresses, skirts, all that stuff. It's not until they worked with Slade that they started to embrace this part of themselves. You're not like your mother; you never will be. It doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't make you any less strong. That's something I can understand—makeup and flashy clothing, embracing yourself more.

Deathstroke reader is brutal when it comes to fights; they do not fight fair at all—biting, slapping, scratching, kicking—almost anything. Sure, they do know fighting styles, but their greatest strengths are brute force and ambushing their attacker with punches to the point where they're unable to react. You had a fight with Cass one time, and you dominated her with hits over and over again, not letting her let up. Sure, she can read body movements, but yours are so aggressive that it's honestly too hard to fight back. You're pummeling Damien like he's not your little brother, more like a stray dog on the street begging for scraps. Your head-butting Jason's Red Hood mask, making cracks in his mask and giving him a black eye in the process. Sure, your head was ringing for at least an hour, but it was worth seeing the shock on his face. You remember one time Bruce visited you at Arkham Asylum—the asylum he put you in—trying to manipulate you into coming home. You jumped across the table, beating the shit out of him. It took multiple nurses to get you off of him. Anytime the Bat Family comes to visit, especially Bruce, you're stuck in a straitjacket with a glass wall in front of you. There's literally a struggle at Arkham to try and get you into the meeting room. They have to roll you in a wheelchair like luggage out of an airport because you tried to escape multiple times, but it always fails, and you're stuck in that meeting room. They're rambling on and on, saying they'll bring you back home. Yeah, right.

[mapofsouthdakota]

Maps headcanons

The LADS boys -

The underwear edition

Details: 3000ish words.. What do they wear? What do they get you to wear? And most importantly… how do they gift it to you? Probably fem reader, but let’s be honest, it’s strictly just a gift. They want to see you in it. Full stop. Some adult fluff, some sexual tension and implied notinoti stuff. So 18+ I guess? And umh… yea I definitely went overboard. SORRY! But I had so much fun, I couldn’t stop myself.

❤️ Sylus

What Sylus wears:

Sylus is all sharp lines, dark elegance, and control. Underneath that crisp red-streaked suit? He’s wearing tailored, jet-black silk boxer-briefs. Luxurious. Breathable. Tactical. They’re tight enough to keep everything in place during any kind of… movement, but soft enough to feel like nothing’s there—no small feat, considering what they’re working with. No logos. Just that sleek minimalism only a man would choose if he knew exactly how handsome he was, didn’t care what anyone else thought—and never once looked at a price tag.

Sylus’s gift to you:

Oh, he’s not just buying you lingerie—he’s curating a message.

It’s a two-piece set, hand-delivered in a black velvet box—while you’re at work. No return address. Just a black wax seal with a crow pressed into the lid. Then a folded note in sharp, elegant script.

If this ends up on the floor, you better not be the one who puts it there. Don’t disappoint me, kitten. —S.

And inside:

A high-leg, sheer silk and lace thong in a crimson so deep it’s almost black—just enough opacity to leave things to the imagination, but not too much.

The matching bralette: underwire-free, soft lace, with feather-like embroidery in crimson thread—subtle nods to his own red-streaked shirt and the crow brooch he gave you. It whispers danger and intimacy at once.

But here’s the kicker—he’s had both your initials and his embroidered inside, side by side in tiny, near-invisible thread. Only you would notice. That’s his way: power in the quietest touches, like branding you without ever lifting a finger.

Scene:

You don’t even have to look out the window to know he’s watching. Heat creeps up your neck as you snap the box shut, fingers fumbling slightly. You tuck it into your drawer fast—too fast—just before anyone walks by.

Your cheeks burn. Your pulse stutters.

Later you open the velvet box in your bedroom—its crow insignia gleaming faintly under the light. It smells of something expensive and sharp—amber, burnt cedar, and a lingering metallic note… gunpowder? When you look up, Sylus is already there, leaning against the doorframe like he’s been watching the whole time. His smirk is lazy, eyes glowing faintly red.

“I thought you could use something… less modest,” he says, voice like dark wine. “Consider it… encouragement.”

You brush your fingers over the crimson mesh, the featherlike embroidery. “And this is supposed to motivate me?” You glance up at him. “Sending me underwear while I’m at work?”

He tilts his head. “Everything I do motivates you. Why should this be any different?”

You narrow your eyes. “Want me to try it on?”

His grin widens. “No. I expect you to.”

You disappear into the other room—and when you return, the change is undeniable. The set clings like a second skin: barely-there lace, delicate and daring in all the ways he clearly planned. Sylus is leaned back with his palms pressed into the mattress behind him, utterly at ease—blazer still draped over his shoulders, one brow cocked as his gaze trails down every inch of you.

You turn slowly, fingers trailing along the silk at your hip, then glance back at him with the faintest smirk. An unspoken well? hangs in the air—daring him to speak, to react, to move.

“Look at you. The gift, wrapped and worn—for the one who gifted it.” A slow smile curves his lips. “You’re lucky I let you wear it at all, kitten.”

Sylus doesn’t move—just stays there on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, one ankle resting casually over his knee. But his gaze trails down your body like a hand.

“But don’t confuse indulgence for permission,” he adds, voice velvet-dark. “I unwrap what’s mine when I decide.”

You raise a brow.

Then he stands—slowly—and stops in front of you, fingers brushing the embroidery near your hip. His touch is light, almost teasing, but his voice has gone rough. “So now I get to peel this off… piece by piece… and watch your ambitions unravel.”

His fingers slide just under the strap at your shoulder, just enough to threaten movement. “I want to see how long you can hold eye contact while I take my time with you.”

He leans in close, gaze never wavering, and drags the tip of his tongue slowly along your bottom lip.

“So don’t blink, kitten.” He murmurs, voice a low drawl. “I want to watch every second tonight.”

——————————————————————————

💜 Rafayel

What Rafayel wears:

Rafayel isn’t really one for undergarments—too restrictive, too boring. He prefers fabric that flows, not hides. On regular days—when he’s in his paint-splattered studio with a half-buttoned shirt and flushed cheeks—he wears linen boxer-briefs, soft and pale pastels. But not just any linen—this is the kind handwoven by some obscure artisan, the kind that costs more per pair than most people’s monthly utilities. They cling loosely, comfortably, with a low waistband that dips dangerously on his hips when he stretches or leans too far over a canvas.

Rafayel’s gift to you:

You don’t even know it’s for you at first. He doesn’t say it.

It’s wrapped in a long strip of sheer silk, painted by hand. The gift is neatly tucked at the base of his easel, a soft rosy color catching in the early light, with painted waves in a beautiful baby blue flowing gently across the fabric. The fabric inside feels more delicate than air:

The bottom is a high-slit silk wrap, sea-blue and iridescent, that ties at the hip with a golden clasp shaped like a wave crest. The slit goes high—deliberately high.

The top is a lace halter bralette, stitched with tiny scales in shimmering threads—blues, pinks, and deep ocean violets. When you move, the color changes like it’s underwater.

And at the center of the chest? A small pearl—real, imperfect, kissed by the sea.

There’s a faint scent of paint, sea salt and saffron on the silk. You know he touched every part of it.

Scene:

You step into the studio—sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains, the scent of paint and salt lingering in the air. Raf’s crouched in front of a half-finished canvas, brush dangling loosely from one stained hand, shirt half-off one shoulder, eyes pink-blue and distracted until he notices you.

Then he blushes. Bright. Immediate. Cheeks, ears—flushed like a sunrise.

“There’s something for you,” he mumbles, looking away as if the thought of you seeing it—wearing it—is almost too much to bear. He nods toward the silk bundle. “I… made it. Thought you’d look… divine in it.”

You crouch beside it, fingers trailing along the silk wrapping, savoring the softness before carefully unfolding it. The fabric slips open, revealing the undergarments inside—shimmering, sea-glass delicate. You glance back at him then, eyes teasing.

“Should I put it on?”

Rafayel swallows hard, brush frozen in mid-air. “Yesss. I mean, if… you want to.” His voice cracks just slightly, the tip of his ear glowing like it might catch fire.

You disappear into the adjoining room—there’s a screen for changing, of course—but you leave it just slightly ajar. When you come back out, the set clings to you like seafoam. Rafayel stares—his brush forgotten, his lips parted. For a second, the artist is speechless.

Then, finally, he says softly, reverently:

“I’m never painting anything else again.”

You’re not sure if he means for the next hour, or the rest of his life.

With a small twirl, you step closer to him. The silk shifts with every movement—light, barely there, suggestive in ways that feel like poetry and sin all at once. Rafayel’s gaze follows the curve of your hips, the embroidery over your chest, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

His paint-stained fingers twitch at his sides. “Turn around again,” he says, quieter this time. “…Please?”

You do. Slowly. The moment stretches taut between you.

When you face him again, he’s closer. Too close. His hand lifts, hovers just above your waist, not quite touching. “I wanted it to feel like water,” he murmurs, voice rougher now, lower. “But it clings like heat. Like you’re melting into it.”

He finally touches you—fingertips tracing a line along the embroidery near your ribs. His breath stutters. “I don’t know if I want to paint you or pull this off with my teeth.”

You arch a brow. “That’s quite the choice.”

Rafayel leans in, lips brushing your shoulder, his voice a husky rasp against your skin. “Why not both?”

His hips press into you, letting you feel the full weight of his desire—hard, aching, and entirely focused on you. One hand traces the edge of your halter, fingertips ghosting along the lace before he gives it a curious little poke, like he’s testing his own creation. His lips hover just above yours, breath warm, eyes soft and burning all at once.

Then, just above a whisper, he adds—“Either way… I’m going to ruin you beautifully, cutie.”

——————————————————————————

🧡 Caleb

What Caleb wears:

In casual moments—when it’s just him and you in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, cooking for you—he wears comfortable cotton boxer briefs. Black, sleek, nothing flashy. He’s practical like that. But they hug him just right, sitting low on his hips, making it really hard to focus on the food. And the worst part? He knows. You’ll glance, just once, and he’ll smirk—subtly flexing one ass cheek like it’s a reflex. Just to mess with you. Just to watch you squirm.

Caleb’s gift to you:

It comes in a sleek, dark orange box. You find it on your doorstep after a long day. Tucked on top, folded with military precision, is a tiny origami fighter jet—his old model, of course. Unfolding it reveals a single line, scribbled in his handwriting:

Try it on, or I’ll just imagine it. Either way, I win.—C.

And when you open it:

A high-cut, gravity-defying black lace bodysuit. It’s sheer in all the right places, sculpted with subtle violet shimmer threading through the seams. Where the light hits it, it reflects a dull glow—almost like a nebula.

A thin, matching choker with a clasp shaped like an apple.

And one last piece: a purple silk sash. A tie. A leash. A promise of discipline wrapped in devotion, of control you never had to ask for, of just how far he’ll go to make sure you never forget who you belong to.

Yet the fabric carries just the barest trace of his cologne and… mouthwash(?)

Scene:

You confront him, of course—he left it there on purpose, knowing curiosity would get the better of you. You don’t even try to play it cool. You find him hours later, still at work on The Fleet, posture perfect, all crisp uniform and that infuriating calm. An adjutant’s just finishing a report when you step into the room. Your eyes lock on him like a missile. Caleb doesn’t flinch—doesn’t even turn. Just gives you a quiet, knowing look over his shoulder like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“What’s the meaning of this?” you ask, holding the box like evidence, like a challenge.

His gaze drags over you from across the room, slow and deliberate. He uncrosses his arms, brushes a speck of dust from his uniform—measured, precise. Like you’ve interrupted something important, but he’s willing to indulge you.

That Colonel Caleb chill lingers in his eyes… but there’s a glint now. And the faintest curve to his lips.

“You found it,” he says, stepping closer until your breath catches. “Great. I had it made. Custom stitching. Seamless where it matters.”

You narrow your eyes. “So you just decided—?”

“I don’t ‘decide,’” he cuts in smoothly. “But if you really are mine…” his voice drops, dangerously low, “…then I want to be the only one who sees you in this.”

His gloved fingers brush your cheek, then trail down to your collarbone. The heat between you crackles like static in space.

Behind you, the adjutant clears their throat—once. A warning. A presence. Caleb doesn’t even glance their way.

“That’ll be all,” he says, voice low and firm, the kind that doesn’t invite questions. The door hisses shut behind you a moment later.

Then it’s just you. Him. And that charged space between.

“Put it on for me, Pip-squeak.”

It’s not a request. But it’s not entirely a command, either. He’s looking at you like you could refuse—but he knows you won’t.

Caleb shrugs off his coat with practiced ease, draping it over the back of the chair before pulling off his gloves, one finger at a time. He sinks into the seat in a single, fluid motion—then reaches up to loosen his tie, just enough to breathe. His legs spread, posture easy, but there’s nothing casual about the way he watches you.

You turn your back to him as you undress, the room quiet except for the subtle shift of fabric. The black bodysuit slides on smoothly, the silk sash tied loosely at your waist. The lace hugs your curves perfectly.

Caleb leans forward, forearms on knees, purple eyes trailing down your form like a scan. Slowly. Thoroughly.

“Turn around.”

You do, slowly, and when you face him, he’s already rising. He closes the distance in measured strides, hands sliding to your waist, voice low and tight.

He leans in. “You know,” he murmurs against your neck, “I wish I could deploy you in this. No one would dare touch you.”

You smirk. “Jealous, Colonel?”

“Obsessed,” he corrects, voice like a velvet threat. “And completely serious.”

You feel his lips graze your shoulder—soft, then firm. And then—his teeth sink in, just enough to make you gasp. Not to hurt. Just to remind you: you’re his.

“Do you know what I thought about every night when I designed this?”

You breathe out. “What?”

His fingers curl into the sash at your hip. “How fast I could undo it.”

Then he lifts you like it’s nothing, pressing you back against the console with stars spinning behind you—his mouth already trailing down your neck as the fabric slips from your skin. But you don’t see stars—you feel them crash.

Then, without missing a beat, the corners of his mouth curve—just slightly, just enough. “I’m betting it’ll take me ten seconds to undress you… if I take my time.”

——————————————————————————

🩵 Zayne

What Zayne wears:

Zayne is nothing if not understated excellence. Beneath his pristine three-piece suits? Charcoal-gray modal boxer briefs. Soft, breathable, structured—he’d never wear anything flashy or inconvenient. But they fit like they were measured for him, contoured to sit low on his hips beneath that crisp dress shirt. And if you ever catch him with the shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, forearms scarred and strong? The contrast of clean fabric and rough skin does things to you.

Zayne’s gift to you:

He doesn’t take you shopping. He doesn’t even mention he’s getting you something. It just… appears, neatly folded in a soft satin box inside your closet. Next to it, a small handwritten note in steady script:

The fabric’s hypoallergenic. I know how your skin reacts to lace. I hope the fit is precise—I took the liberty of measuring while you were asleep. —Zayne.

And on the inside:

A silk slip dress, cut short and minimal, in deep forest green with thin black straps that crisscross at the back. The inside is lined with cotton—soft, breathable. So Zayne.

A matching bra and panty set—subtle scalloped trim, no underwire, no push-up. Just comfort and beauty in quiet balance. He knows how to make you feel exquisite without shouting it.

And tucked in one of the folds? A thin bracelet. Jade.

Scene:

He doesn’t even bring it up at first. You only find it after he leaves for a night shift.

The next evening, you bring it up with a wry smile. “So… were you going to mention the intimate gift hiding in my closet, or were you just hoping I’d trip over it?”

Zayne blinks once behind his glasses, setting down his mug of cocoa.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says simply. “But I also didn’t want anyone else buying you something that didn’t… suit you.” His gaze drops, lingering on your wrist where you’ve already put on the jade bracelet. “So I took care of it.”

You arch a brow. “Do you want to see it on me?”

His eyes flick up, expression unreadable—but there’s a faint flush climbing up his throat. “That depends.”

“On?”

“If you want me to take it off you too.”

And there it is. The Zayne smirk—so faint, you almost miss it. Almost.

You step into the bedroom after a hot shower, damp hair over your shoulders, body wrapped in the green silk slip. It molds to you, effortless and cool. The straps kiss your shoulder blades, the hem teasing the tops of your thighs.

Zayne is seated at the edge of the bed, shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled to the elbows—relaxed in theory, but his eyes are anything but. Behind the silver glint of his glasses, hazel green irises rake over you slowly. Intently. Like you’re a case study he’s about to personally explore.

“You wore it,” he says, voice steady, but lower now. Tight.

“I did,” you reply, stepping closer, letting the silk sway just enough to tempt. “Are you going to examine it?”

He doesn’t answer—not with words. He pulls off his glasses and sets them aside with exacting precision, then leans forward and tugs you between his knees. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, fingers splaying over silk and skin.

“I’m not your physician right now,” he exhales, his mouth brushing your sternum, “but I still know how to handle delicate things.”

You inhale sharply, and he shifts the slip aside—just a little—enough to make your heart race.

His lips brush the inside of your wrist—soft at first, then slower. He drags his mouth down to the base of your palm, then lets his tongue trace the curve of your finger, you like you’re his favorite candy—something rare, rich, and entirely his.

“…You realize,” he says against your skin, “you’re never wearing this for anyone else.”

You breathe out, quiet, shivering. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good.”

And the way he says that one word, low and clinical and full of heat? It feels like you’re about to be unraveled—one practiced touch at a time.

“I’ve studied anatomy,” he murmurs, gaze unwavering, “but I’ve never wanted to memorize someone like this.”

You tilt your head, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “So what now, doctor Zayne? Want me to act like your study sample?”

His eyes flick down your body, then back up—calm, absolutely smoldering. “Mm. Slow breaths for me, please,” he says softly. “I want to feel every shift under my hands.”

——————————————————————————

🩷 Xavier

What Xavier wears:

For all his ethereal calm and delicate looks, Xavier’s body is not soft. He’s lithe, compact, and stronger than he looks—and his undergarments reflect that contradiction. Sleek. Supportive. Understated. He wears fitted low-rise boxer briefs in pale gray or lavender. Soft, seamless, breathable—so easy to move in you almost forget they’re there. And while size has never been the point, there’s no denying the quiet truth: he’s big. The waistband is low enough that when his sweater rides up while he’s napping on the couch? You catch the edge, just barely. (And no, he’s not unaware. He’s just pretending he is.)

Xavier’s gift to you:

You don’t even realize it’s a gift at first.

You find a small folded bundle on your pillow—no tag, no note, but it smells faintly of that tangy-sweet, citrusy energy drink he drinks… laced with the subtle warmth of vanilla that always seems to linger on his skin. The fabric is impossibly soft. Dreamlike.

A silk cami set, sleeveless, light violet with silvery sheen. The camisole is loose, with barely-there straps and delicate lace at the hem. It looks like starlight.

The shorts are sheer, fluttery, with a ribbon drawstring. If you move too quickly, they shift… dangerously.

There’s a tiny embroidered constellation stitched near the hem.

You realize later that the embroidery thread is pale gold. Subtle. Like he wants you to wear the stars for him.

Scene:

You ask him about it later, holding the fabric between your fingers—right after sharing a burnt pizza he insisted he had under control (he did not).

“Did you leave this on my bed?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you with that quiet intensity, like he’s still trying to figure out how you got past his walls with nothing but laughter and melted cheese. He tilts his head slightly.

“I thought you might sleep better with it on,” he says softly. “Or off.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that a suggestion?”

“No,” he replies, gaze dragging slowly down your figure. “It’s a preference.”

He steps closer, fingers brushing yours as he takes the fabric back from your hand—just long enough to skim his knuckles over your palm before he returns it. His voice drops a note lower.

“Will you wear it tonight?”

You swallow, pulse jumping.

“I might.”

He smiles—barely. But it’s real. “I’ll be upstairs if you need help taking it off.”

Later, when the lights are low and the house is quiet, your phone buzzes.

XAVIER: Did you end up trying it on?

You hesitate, then type:

YOU: Maybe.

There’s a long pause. Then:

XAVIER: Then I hope you’re not expecting sleep.

You stare at the screen, heart skipping.

YOU: Good night, Xav.

Another pause.

XAVIER: Good night… Don’t lock your door.

You wake to find Xavier standing in your doorway—messy silvery-blond hair, expression unreadable, sleep still tugging at his lashes. You’re wearing the silk cami set, curled under your blanket. He blinks once, slowly, as if committing the image to memory.

“…Door was unlocked,” he murmurs. “You sleep too lightly.”

“I sleep just fine,” you say, voice husky, watching his eyes flick down the curve of your thigh where the blanket’s slipped. “So why are you here?”

He walks in, slow and barefoot. “I was thinking about you.”

“And?”

His fingers brush the ribbon of your waistband, tugging lightly—just once, enough to let the silk shift against your skin. “And I wanted to see if you look better in… or out of it.”

You lift an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring long enough to know.”

His eyes drag up your body with excruciating calm, but there’s something darker flickering beneath the stillness. He leans down, brushing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then just beneath your jaw—lingering there.

“I’m thorough. Still deciding,” he murmurs, breath warm and slow, thick with something you feel more than hear.

He undresses with quiet efficiency, unbuttoning his pajama shirt, folding it once before setting it aside, then slipping out of the pants with the same composed ease—until he’s left in nothing but his underwear.

Then he slides under the covers, pulls you into his chest, and whispers against your ear,

“You can keep yours on—for now.”

But his hand is already resting low on your waist, fingers curling just beneath the hem of your top, like he’s giving himself permission to explore later—inch by inch, breath by breath.

Then, without a word, he takes your hand and guides it along the plane of his chest, down the firm line of his stomach—slow, careful, like he wants you to feel how hard it is for him to stay gentle.

And just when your fingertips brush the edge of his waistband—he leans in, voice low and rough with need.

“This is me… trying to be good for you.”

Your fingertips slip just beneath the waistband, barely testing the edge of skin. His breath catches, and for a moment he doesn’t move. Then his hand wraps gently around your wrist—not to stop you, just to feel you there.

His voice drops. “But if you keep doing that… I won’t be good much longer.”

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: YE. I’m sorry. Nobody asked for this. I spent my Saturday night writing 3k words of underwear headcanon and then gave it the gentlest proofread over my Sunday morning coffee like that somehow made it respectable. Totally normal, balanced behavior. I’m thriving. Unhinged, yes—but thriving. Should I be finishing the Bear AU pilot? Absolutely. Am I derailed by one intrusive thought? Also yes. But! I will finish the pilot this week. Prrroooomise. I should touch grass… but let’s be real, that’s what triggered this spiral in the first place. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[autisticlenaluthor]

some pre-crash jackienat headcanons (with some solo nat and jackie sprinkled in)

jackie would pack her lunch with things she “didn’t like” so that in the cafeteria, she could offer half to nat under the guise of “i just don’t want this” instead of potentially embarrassing her for not having her own food

after nat’s dad dies, she misses a few days of school. the other yellowjackets start talking about it, gossiping and speculating a bit about what might’ve happened. someone says they think nat did it - which causes the conversation to turn. jackie shuts it all down with some “we don’t talk about our teammates like that” “stop it, she’s one of us” kindergarten teacher style talking to. the rest of the girls get kind of annoyed and call her a buzz kill, but jackie holds her ground.

nat is the one who gives jackie her first cigarette and teaches her how to smoke. they’re both skipping class for different reasons and nat offers it to her behind the bleachers. jackie coughs so hard she almost throws up and nat laughs even harder. it’s a really nice moment, but they never talk about it again.

jackie’s mom makes her volunteer a the food drive around thanksgiving one year. jackie sees nat there, picking stuff up for her family. they both give each other a look, but don’t acknowledge it. jackie never tells anyone, and after she dies, nat always regrets never having thanked her

nat is the first (and only?) person to tell jackie she sees the way she looks at shauna. her intention is to show her she isn’t alone, that she doesn’t have to hide it the way that she does. but jackie is so deep in denial - she sees it as an attack. her pent up feelings lead her to being kind of a bitch to nat, and ultimately are the cause behind their bickering/beef in the wilderness

nat always hated it when the girls would gang up on someone on the team (as we see in the pilot with allie) and (almost) always supported jackie’s pep talks / encouragement. even in the locker room, she’d try to subtly defend her if the others made jokes about them, because even if jackie was cheesy, she believed what she was saying at its core.

when the other yellowjackets talk about their parents, nat notices that jackie’s the only other girl who doesn’t chime in

senior year, shauna signs up for ap literature without telling jackie. jackie ends up in the regular english class alone and hates it. she gets paired with nat for an assignment and while they’re “studying” together, nat ends up being the first (and only) person jackie tells about their friendship difficulties and how sometimes she worries what shauna thinks of her

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sooo… any headcanons about the most innocent/wholesome/guileless things about AGSZC? (❀ ❛̤⌄❛̤)

(@violetinkclouds)

Angeal: Has a habit of tucking people in if they fall asleep around him, doesn't matter who—Zack, Genesis, Sephiroth, younger SOLDIERs, no one wakes up cold when Angeal is around. Will absolutely stop mid-conversation to kneel down and pet a stray cat or dog (especially dogs!). Has full-on heart-to-hearts with them. The animal understands. The animal respects him. Keeps granola bars in his pockets because "you never know when someone might need a snack." Wears big, warm sweaters in private. If you borrow one, you're never getting it back because it smells like comfort and safety. Genesis hoards them. Will casually lift things out of people's hands if they're being stubborn. Zack refuses to take a break? Boom, his sword is now in Angeal's hand. Genesis refuses to stop reading? Book confiscated.

Genesis: Acts completely above "cute things" but has been caught multiple times cooing over stray cats and reciting poetry to them. Reads bedtime stories to his friends and other SOLDIERs whenever they spend the night together. Whenever he eats something really good, he makes this tiny, involuntary happy sound (if someone notices, he gets very defensive). Completes small tasks for anxious people without question, such as asking the barista for a straw or asking a question during a meeting when someone else is too shy to. Has a habit of gently fixing people's clothes—straightening ties, fixing collars, adjusting buttons—without even thinking about it. If anyone calls him out on it, he just raises an eyebrow and goes "Well, someone has to make sure you don't look appalling." If a child hands him a toy phone, he will answer it with complete seriousness. "Yes, this is Genesis Rhapsodos. Speak quickly, I'm very important."

Sephiroth: Holds tea cups with both hands and makes a happy humming noise when it tastes good. If someone asks him to describe something beautiful, he always says something from nature like cherry blossom trees, sunsets and rivers. Children love him because he actually listens when they talk and he's actually very sweet to kids. Laughs gracefully in public but is the type to fall over if he's in private and sitting on a bed. Makes more jokes than people think he does and makes use of sarcasm to annoy his friends. Gives Zack, Cloud and younger SOLDIERs quiet, thoughtful compliments that stick with them for days. ("You've improved a lot." "You handled that well." "You're stronger than you think.") If he's reading a book and someone speaks to him, he will look up at them over the cover like some kind of ancient judge weighing their soul.

Zack: Waves enthusiastically at everyone he knows—from across the room, down the street, even if they just saw him five minutes ago. Cannot sit normally in a chair. He's either backwards in it, sprawled out like a starfish, or perched on the armrest. If he sees a dog, all plans are canceled. He must pet it. He must know its name. If the owner says "oh, she's shy," he will sit on the ground and patiently wait to earn the dog's trust. Collects dumb little trinkets from gumball machines and keeps them in his pockets. Will absolutely gift them to people like they're rare treasures. "Here, I got you this tiny plastic dinosaur. He looks like you." Will pick flowers from random places and tuck them behind his friends' ears without asking. Has done this to Angeal multiple times.

Cloud: Tries to act all cool and distant but if someone ruffles his hair affectionately, he completely melts. When he gets praised, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Just stands there like (⊙_⊙) before awkwardly mumbling "Uh… thanks…" Collects little rocks he thinks are cool and keeps them in his pockets. If he sees a flower growing in an unlikely place (like between cracks in concrete), he stops to look at it every time. Acts all tough but is actually very polite. Always remembers to say "thank you" to waitstaff, cashiers, and mission personnel. Even if he's exhausted, he'll still say it automatically.

[spr1ngtweaks]

DESPERATE REQUEST:

what would happen if Stella, Leith, and Eddie forced Harley and his partner to join them in a game of hide and seek in the factory where every location is open after hours in the middle of the night and s/o has to be the hider and they are absolutely impossible to find meanwhile the executes are paranoid and terrified (especially Harley) knowing that a/o won’t be able to resist jumping out and scaring them!? Headcanons?? :3

A hide-and-seek game in an abandoned toy factory at midnight? With a partner who thrives on scaring people? With executives who are already on edge? And with Harley being the most paranoid of them all?

This is going to be so much fun.

Headcanons – Midnight Hide-and-Seek in Playtime Co.

(Or: How to Give the Entire Executive Team a Heart Attack in One Night)

🌙 The Setup

This whole thing probably started because Eddie and Stella were bored out of their minds and somehow convinced (read: pressured) Harley into participating.

Leith, being the reasonable one, initially refused. But then Eddie threw in some corporate-level guilt-tripping like, “C’mon, Pierre, don’t be a killjoy. You already make us suffer during work hours—let us have this.”

Harley, naturally, thought this was the stupidest idea imaginable and was completely against it.

“This is a waste of time.”

“You do realize we work in a factory known for its many mysterious disappearances, yes?”

“If any of you so much as touch my lab, I will make sure you regret it.”

He only relents when Stella, in all her unhinged glory, insists it’ll be “fun” to see who lasts the longest before they start losing their minds.

🦇 The Rules

Your job? Hide. You get a full five-minute head start.

Their job? Find you. But there’s a catch:

No lights—only flashlights are allowed.

No splitting up (because even THEY know that’s how horror movies start).

No chickening out halfway through.

…Harley is already suspicious. Way too suspicious.

👣 The Game Begins…

As soon as the game starts, you vanish. Completely. No sound. No trace.

The factory is massive, labyrinthine, and filled with shadows. The further they go, the more uneasy they get.

Eddie, at first, tries to play it cool. “Okay, okay. This isn’t bad. We just gotta—”

Something creaks.

Leith freezes.

Harley pulls out a scalpel like it’s going to help.

😨 The Executives Start to Panic

Leith is the most vocal about his regrets.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“I knew I should’ve stayed in my office.”

“I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Eddie tries to stay rational, but his nerves are showing.

“Okay, but seriously. Where the hell did they go? They couldn’t have just disappeared—”

Stella? She’s THRIVING.

Absolutely living for the tension.

Is the only one laughing while the others are actively regretting their life choices.

🔦 Where’s Harley in All This?

PARANOID.

ON EDGE.

CONVINCED YOU’RE GOING TO JUMP OUT AND GIVE HIM A HEART ATTACK.

“This isn’t a game. This is psychological warfare.”

“They’ve been waiting for this moment. I know it.”

“This is a calculated attack on my well-being.”

Every slight movement? Every distant noise? He notices.

His brain is in overdrive.

If they were hiding in ventilation shafts, they would’ve had to access it from…

If they were in the old testing chambers, there would’ve been a slight reverberation in sound…

If they were in the prototype storage area—

Oh, wait. The door creaked.

HE KNOWS.

And yet—he still jumps when you finally strike.

👻 The Grand Reveal (AKA: Your Victory)

When you finally decide to end it, you wait until the absolute worst moment—

They’re huddled together in some darkened corridor.

Their nerves are fraying.

Harley is visibly tense, Leith is done with everything, Eddie is regretting his life choices, and Stella is just watching chaos unfold.

Then?

You jump out.

With zero warning.

Directly behind Harley.

🎤 Reactions:

Harley?

JOLTS like someone just defibrillated his soul.

Immediately turns around, ready to commit a crime.

“I should have you thrown into a furnace.”

Leith?

Screams.

Not even an ashamed scream—just pure, unfiltered terror.

“I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN.”

Eddie?

Nearly drops his flashlight.

Tries to act like he wasn’t scared.

“I— I wasn’t scared. I was— I was just—”

Stella?

CACKLING.

Absolutely delighted.

“Worth it. Every second of it.”

✨ The Aftermath

Harley refuses to speak to you for the rest of the night.

Leith files an unofficial complaint against you.

It goes directly into the trash.

Eddie still insists he wasn’t scared.

But he is now suspiciously avoiding dark hallways alone.

Stella? Already planning the next game.

“Next time, we blindfold Harley and make him the seeker.”

“NO.”

…And you?

You have a new favorite pastime.

[furiouskettle]

random Look Outside character headcanons/opinions

(may be incorrect cause ive just been watching playthroughs. going off of the info i got from that which may be missing some parts.)

body horror talk, spoilers from all over the game and ending under the cut.

Sam

I love sam. hes just nice (potentially a pushover) and a dork. HES JUST A GUY!!!! i love that the game gives him time to show you how he’s processing his/your actions?

Really funny to me that him being unemployed is part of the reason he’s the protagonist. Can’t become a monster if you don’t have to go outside.

Am curious why he isn't working at the grocery store (if he did work there). did he leave or get fired?

OW losing an arm has GOTTA HURT. i cast pain upon this man.

his hair is just Like That no matter what he does

Joel

mY SWEET BABY BOYYYY i want to see him grow up big and strong (not too big and strong considering the everything but you get the idea).

looks like he has some form of "vision" post-mutation?? he doesnt seem to have any issue playing video games so i opt that he can “see”, just not very well. it’s short range and fuzzy. might be more of a feeling of his surroundings than real vision? whatever it is, it's good enough to play super jump lad.

I also HC that he’d developed shortsightedness when he had eyes, just that nobody had noticed yet that he’s squinting at things more than he should…

I think his biting/devouring is involuntary when he’s agitated. thankfully it hasn’t come to him biting any friends so far!

get this boy some popsicle sticks to gnaw on. not even for tooth reasons. eight year olds just love chewing on popsicle sticks. (preferably after popsicle has been consumed)

Apart from not fully understanding everything going on due to his age, he seems a bit dazed from the mutation and probably has brain fog for a few days after, which is Definitely not helping sam with the Oh My God this kid doesnt know his parents are dead. OH GOD I KILLED THIS KID'S PARENTS AND I HAVE STOLEN HIM AWAY

oddly chill with losing teeth. has taken some of his baby teeth out by himself! gives joel my childhood trait of oh hey my tooth is wobbling! lemme get rid of that real quick. twist twist twist

Jeanne

i dont have much to say on her atm but she’s lovely and really doesnt deserve what happens to her. on the bright side the worst seems to be over for her?? if she’s still growing does that mean that she’s gonna have to be like “oop a new head’s budding. gotta get someone to lop that off for me before it becomes a problem.”

Lyle

FIRST OF ALL i LOVE how his design kind of references how old cameras had to be covered with fabric so the photo wouldn't fail.

i think he wore glasses when he was human! …the lenses got absorbed into his face. the camera he was holding did too. I think he didn’t own as many cameras as he ended up with. That big one he has seems specific enough that maybe that was the one he was using to snap a sky pic??? idk if he touched any other cameras after that but THAT one has gotta be the one he was holding.

idk if he finds spiders GROSS but he is definitely the kind of person to be afraid to be in the same room as one.

I think most of his legs are telescopic to some degree! he just doesnt see the need to make himself any taller than he already is, except for photography reasons.

reiterating from one of my doodle posts, i like to think his eye lenses shed over time. if you took off the lens early on an eye (via injury) it would have weak vision. built-in glasses!

I hope the soul photo thing is like a special attack thing for him that he has to set up intentionally? it feels mean to have all the photos he takes with his built in cameras be the soul-stealing kind. he does take photos by accident/involuntarily a lot but the one he takes after the kiss with sam is totally on purpose and he absolutely still has that one. concerning.

idk if he gets out of his apartment much during the Visit, but it could be that HE hasnt seen any mutations worse than his/doesnt know that sam has totally seen worse. Hence why he's trying to hide so hard from Sam (not to mention the guy is crushing HARD, he's not gonna wanna be vulnerable in front of him).

....also hideous monster or not hes naked under there. i dont blame him for wanting to stay cloaked

Xaria & Monty

oh god theyre art students. that explains SO much.

very funny to me that xaria heard a voice in her head compelling her to check out the window and decided she’s gonna be contrarian about it.

I imagine a lot of Monty’s projects are setting something on fire. shows up to class with a pile of plastic baby heads. sets them ablaze. the most important part of being an art student is the time honored tradition of bullshitting some sort of meaning that’s gonna satisfy the lecturer.

Probably decent at life drawings but he keeps burning his works. (not to mention realism doesnt appear to be his kind of style)

Xaria feels like she’d stick to slightly more traditional mediums (painting, sculpture)? a lot of surrealism, mixed media, themes of nonconformity and violence. has totally used blood in a project before. More intentional about the meaning of her art- the intention being that she wants to make people uncomfortable.

i think it’d be hilarious if they’d been binging horror movies the night before. funniest options are The Thing and Tetsuo the iron man.

Since Sam mutates into something regardless of what you do up on the roof, i’m guessing the same goes for these two if you bring them up there. cool/nasty idea for their mutation is they fuse into one being... not necessarily an idea im running with atm but fun to think abt anyway

Sybil

AGH, sybil….. i love her. she's just really nice...

I think she’s in some sort of schrödinger’s cat situation - dead and alive until observed. or maybe like a quark (particle that cannot be observed but you can see the effects of it).

it’s unclear if someone ever was next door to you, but if I recall the astronomers tell you there’s no way she’s there? (cant recall if its bc she was “dead” by then or if its the totally wrong floor.)

the game says it was a mystery what happened to sybil, but a potential course of events could be your Real Neighbour just got sucked outta their window same as what happens to you if you look and sybil THINKS shes next door to you.

I’m pretty sure she’s in all of the walls? some of her text implies that, even tho she doesnt seem to be really aware of it.

far as she knows, she's in her apartment. what's her apartment like? well, it's an apartment. it's got walls. she can see out the peephole. there's.... furniture. What else do you want?

(man. between her, the pipe lady, the water pump guy, and the boiler room the walls are CROWDED. no wonder the roaches decide to move to your place.)

The Visitor

what do i even say about it? it is, in the most direct meaning of the word, awesome. it’s unfathomably immense. it's beautiful. it's horrifying. I love that in a single eye out of infinite eyes, it sees a miniscule creature who just wants to live. Sam becomes a smaller reflection of the Visitor, and the visitor gains a fraction of what makes sam human…

I wonder, did the visitor even “exist” until witnessed? same as sybil, maybe it could have some quantum thing going on. i can’t speculate on this any more than the astronomers have.

Sam (ritual-denial)

while it’s the nicest ending possible, i still feel kinda bad for sam :( he can never be truly alone anymore, but at the same time isn’t becoming a giant god-creature kind of isolating? sure, he must grow used to it over time but MAN. WHAT AN ADJUSTMENT.

regardless, it’s nice that he decides to use his new form to take care of the world, and sounds like he probably gets some extra brain capacity to be able to do all the stuff he does. (probably a few extra mini-brains to control the different arm nodes)

I hope he gets to take time for himself too, sometimes. probably sleeps like a dolphin (switch off half the brain for a power nap)

I don't think he can do verbal communication (at least, it's gonna take him a WHILE to figure out how to talk with his feelers) but at least there's keyboards.

also its funny how he gains like a gajillion arms after potentially losing one of two.

also i love the cafe patrons and the mutants at the camp. theyre all so fun. AND MANUEL FUNKY LITTLE DUDE WITH THE JAMS.

i need to find more about the lady with the slasher mask i just know she exists.

@mtgc858 @deafeningfestivalpaper @kasprawn39 @contract-crawdad @goawaypopup @eyessss come get yer headcanons

anyway uhhhhhhh hope you found my rambling fun to read byee

[dannydoesthisthing27]

I just realized I haven't talked about the character that got me into redacted

Anyways Aaron headcanons

Aaron has hair, and he keeps it long enough that he wears it in a braided bun or normal bun most of the time. He occasionally wears it in a ponytail or down

He doesn't really like animals, but Smartass likes frogs and after much discussion they agreed that one horned frog could be adopted. They also have an axlottle that Aaron accidentally fell in love with at the same place they got the frog.

Aaron has hypovolemic POTS (I did a decent amount of research and I think it makes a fair amount of sense for his character)

In Aaron's office he has a mini fridge he keeps Gatorade and other snacks/drinks with a higher salt content just in case. There's always a salt packet in his wallet or his partners for the same reason.

He and Smartass have taken to adding salt on top of snacks and candy to see what tastes best while also helping him. They try to keep it fun on some level because they know how hard the hard days can be. (Aaron's favorite combination is dark chocolate and flakey sea salt. Smartass likes salt over gummy candies)

Aaron likes taking walks and has bonded with the stray cats on his street. He takes a ziploc bag of treats on occasion and will sit out on the grass or benches while the cats sit with him. He started doing it a few months after the rainy day bed cuddles audio

He really doesn't like it when he gets interrupted. He hates it when people get spoken over, finds it incredibly disrespectful most of the time (if it's unintentionally cutting someone off due to excitement you'll usually get a pass.) When it happens Aaron will cut the interrupted off with a 'what did you say *name*' or 'they weren't done' and it usually shuts the person who was interrupting up.

Aaron will claim to be no good at cooking. This is only partially true. There's a few things he's absolutely amazing at cooking and Smartass can not figure it out. The things are spaghetti, lemon chicken, most kinds of potato, tacos, enchiladas (the only recipe he has from his grandparents,) and steak. He's also great at baking

His lock screen on his phone is a picture of him, Elliott, Sunshine, and Smartass. Aaron didn't even know the picture was taken because Smartass snuck it while the other three were distracted

He keeps a star shaped charm on his wallet that Eli gifted him before he moved away. Elliott doesn't know he still has it

Smartass has gotten really good at noticing when Aaron is getting lightheaded or about to pass out and knows how to catch him because of it.

One time, after an argument back when they worked together, Aaron tried to stand up out of his desk chair to walk them out. About halfway to the door, he blacked out for a second. Smartass nearly had a heart attack when they had to catch him to keep him from hitting his head. He was already mostly back to conscious by the time they'd lowered him to the ground. He was fine, just a bit disoriented. Mostly surprised, they actually managed to lift and move him (strong smartass save me save me smartass who's jacked)

Aaron likes sketching when he has a little downtime that he won't feel guilty over. He's started trying to have drawing sessions at least twice a week

He has really poor body temperature regulation and is always flipping between freezing and overheating. Smartass is somehow always the perfect temperature to make him melt into their touch when they grab his face

Aaron likes sleeping partially on top of Smartass in some way. The contact keeps him grounded, and he doesn't have to worry about being the big boss. He can just be Aaron. He can feel relieved at the end of the day when he comes home. He doesn't have to be scared of someone leaving because he snapped after a bad day. He's safe with them, and he loves them because of it

[kanalynn]

Senku x teen scientist! reader headcanons

characters: Senku Ishigami

author's note:

• English is NOT my first language;

• May contain OOC;

• Do not copy or steal my works !!

• I didn't try very hard when I wrote this - and I wrote it in a short time, so it's probably very bad

timeline: pre-petrification

• Senku first meets [Name] during his trip to Africa - to his own surprise, he is not the only teenager interested in science who can afford something like that. At first, this girl hardly attracted his attention - he only noted her talkative nature - but very soon he got to know her better.

• [Name] was a young prodigy scientist like himself, but she mainly specialized in biology, chemistry and medicine, so she went to Africa to study Ebola - and she was very enthusiastic when it came to science - it was obvious to the naked eye. Senku senses that she may be very similar to him - and their first conversation takes place.

• Senku was not wrong - of course, Senku was never wrong. The way [Name]'s eyes lit up when she told him about the virus she came here to study, the way she looked around with greedy interest, noticing everything that could be nearby, the way she told him incredible facts about the environment - all this showed that she truly lives science, just like Senku himself.

• He immediately gained respect for her - as she did for him - and that's how it all begins.

• From there, their friendship grows stronger. Senku truly appreciates [Name]'s scientific knowledge and amazing abilities, but at the same time, he quickly gets used to the cheerful, energetic, non-scientific side of her character.

• They often spend time together in the lab or on expeditions, doing all sorts of scientific things. At that time, Senku had to try on the role of not a scientist conducting an experiment, but his assistant for the first time - after all, he is not as good at medicine and pharmaceuticals as [Name].

• It was [Name] who taught him how to make antibiotics. Of course, they made them in a modern laboratory, not in the stone world, but the girl also explained quite clearly how to get all the materials in nature.

• They most often communicate with each other in English, but in their free time, Senku teaches [Name] Japanese, and she teaches him her native language (if English is not her native language, of course).

• Probably, the idea to try lion meat belonged to [Name]. By the way, she herself did not like it, but she ate it to the end (she and Senku argued, he did not think that she would really do it).

• One day, [Name] tells Senku that when she leaves Africa, she will continue to travel around the world and study it until she settles down somewhere to officially become a doctor. Senku, half-jokingly, invites her to his home country - but who knows, maybe she will really go to Japan?

• When the time comes to leave Africa, Senku is upset about the upcoming separation from [Name], but not so much - after all, they will still keep in touch and write to each other. The girl herself, unlike him, can't hold back her emotions and makes a farewell scene - Senku considered it unnecessary, but when she cried and crawled to hug him, he did not push her away.

• So, they parted.

• Some time later, when a new school year begins in Japan and Senku is in his first year of high school, he receives a new message from [Name] - she has finally come to Japan!

• The girl promised to meet Senku as soon as possible - but only when she has figured out the train system and got used to the new school - that's what they decided, but it turned out that the meeting was closer than they expected.

❛❛ Nice to meet you! My name is [Name] [Last Name], I'm an exchange student from [country], and I'll be studying with you- ❞

❛❛ [Name]?! ❞

❛❛ S-senku?! ❞

• Senku definitely didn't expect [Name] to suddenly become his classmate, and from her reaction, he could tell that she didn't expect it either. The chances of such a coincidence were incredibly small, but not impossible.

• Despite this, he was glad, really. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have imagined that he would end up going to school with [Name] and seeing her every day. It had been a long time since their expedition to Africa, and he had already missed her, her cheerful nature, and the scientific discussions they had with her.

• There was another thing: Taiju and Yuzuriha hadn't met her yet - as soon as Senku remembered this, he almost immediately introduced her to his friends as a fellow scientist. Since they were all very open and kind people, they got along very quickly: he and Yuzuriha even became best friends.

• [Name] is just as smart and interested in science as Senku, so it's no surprise that she becomes one of the best students in the school. There is some rivalry between her and Senku, but it's apparently not that serious - they just want to see who's smarter in areas unrelated to science.

• Eventually, Senku invites [Name] to join his Science Club as vice-president, to which she, of course, agrees. The club members treat her with respect, looking up to her and Senku - after all, two teenage prodigies who have been on expeditions before can't help but be impressive.

• [Name] is very, very interested in the culture of Senku's home country, and so often asks him to show her around or take her to festivals. Senku himself doesn't understand her enthusiasm and often grumbles when the conversation turns to a certain place [Name] wants to go, but he always accompanies her anyway.

• They apparently even went to Senku's favorite ramen restaurant together once, which he often went to with his father. Senku has been known there for a long time, so you can imagine the uproar that ensued when he showed up there with a girl. Of course, everyone assumed they were on a date - but [Name] didn't bother to correct them.

• When the swallows turn into stone, [Name] is just as excited as Senku. At one point, she even contacts her biologist friends at NASA to report the find. After that, she and Senku begin a series of experiments to determine whether the swallows are alive or not - and that's when the petrification happens.

• The green light that enveloped the entire land was clearly not what anyone expected. Before she turned to stone, [Name] only managed to whisper something to Senku, eyes wide in shock. Now she is trapped in her own mind for many centuries, desperately trying not to pass out, thinking about her family, friends, and Senku.

[delaware-lemme-smash]

could you write how aizawa would act around you if you were both teachers and he had a crush on yew…. & some student reactions like would they notice or tease him💔💔

Ooh, I love this idea. A little hero/teacher workplace romance~

(Side note: I think I'd also enjoy writing headcanons for romance at different Hero agencies. The dynamics would be really fun.)

Characters: Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Contents: gn!reader

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Aizawa is not a man who entertains romantic feelings on a regular basis. He can count the amount of crushes he's ever had on his life on one hand. Most of which he has managed to rationalise away, or simply distance himself from until they faded.

This one, however, is a little more persistent. He works with you. He sees you almost every day. And no amount of rationalising or ignoring it is working to quell this...affection for you.

To him, it makes no logical sense. Between teaching during the day, carrying out his hero work at night, and barely catching enough sleep in between, he doesn't even have the time to catch feelings, let alone do anything about them. You would think the part of his brain that deals with self-preservation would recognise that.

But no, it decides to emphasise for him the shape of your mouth when you say his name. It makes him notice the smile you give him, no matter how dry-eyed, dishevelled, and grumpy he is when he shuffles into the teachers' lounge in the morning. It follows him into his sleeping bag and pollutes his dreams with unlikely fantasies of what it would be like to slouch home to you instead of an empty apartment in the evening.

It makes him surly and avoidant with you for a while, because that's how Aizawa copes with things. He knows it's not fair to you and it's not ✨rational✨ but he almost can't help himself.

Mic decides to stage an intervention. Perhaps it's based off his own observations, or perhaps prompted by your tentative enquiry as to why Eraserhead keeps glaring at you whenever you offer to grab him a coffee from the pot.

"Has he gone decaf or something? That would explain why he's in a bad mood."

"Something like that. I'll talk to him."

Mic might seem like the ridiculous one, but he's fully capable of pulling Aizawa's head out of his ass when he needs to. Mic bites his tongue when he realises what's going on (teasing Aiawa is so not going to help here), but he does point out that Aizawa is unintentionally being an asshole to you. And Aizawa, despite himself, does care what you think.

There's an apology coffee on your desk in the morning. No word of who it's from, but Aizawa watches you drink it from across the room, and he no longer scuttles into the supply closet when you cross paths in the halls.

Now that he can't avoid you anymore, he's getting full doses of crush radiation exposure, and things start to tip in the other direction. Instead of trying to ignore you, he finds himself gravitating toward you more and more. It's not obvious to a casual observer. Often it seems casual or accidental.

He just so happens to choose your desk to take a nap under in his sleeping bag. Or he has an extra pouch of nutritional jelly when you don't have time for lunch.

Unless you're a psychic, it's unlikely you've realised that the sleep-deprived scruffbag has a full blown crush on you. His tone is still pretty low, flat, and tired and his eyes are only ever half open, but there are the occasional...moments.

Like when he sees you walking into his classroom with a stack of books and your ankle rolls sideways after a misstep. He reaches out without thinking, his large hands wrapping around your waist to steady you.

The students (mostly Mina) notice this immediately. They watch every interaction between their mysterious teacher and everyone else with a laser-focus, going over it with a fine-toothed comb. That waist-grab? Fuel. Fire.

Speculation runs rife among the kids, who would love nothing more than to see a teacher-teacher romance. Okay, Bakugou doesn't give a shit, but the rest...!

They wouldn't dare ask Aizawa about it, but you on the other hand... You don't know why all your students are suddenly asking how long you've known Aizawa-sensei, or why they all exchange such knowing looks when you explain that you're just colleagues.

It makes you start examining your own behaviour, to see if you've been unprofessional in some way. Ironically, this introspection is what opens your eyes to how Aizawa acts around you:

He naps under your desk.

He always turns down after work drinks unless you're the one who asks.

He sometimes pours you a coffee, unasked, when he's getting one for himself, giving the excuse that you're teaching his class later and you're going to need it.

He's always subtly nearby, unobtrusive, like the way a cat will casually follow you around the house and watch what you're up to.

He shows you photos of the stray cats he meets and pets on his patrols. You know their names.

And one time, you make some unthinking, sarcastic wisecrack in response to something he's said. His mouth quirks up at the corner, and you hear a short, husky laugh.

Your stomach does something funny. The knowledge drops into your mind like a penny into a well.

Oh.

Oh.

[cuppajj]

Beast Ancients AU Askbox Thoughts

Hey! This is just to clear up my thought process revolving around BAAU related asks. Please consider reading everything so you know for later!

When is the askbox open?: Whenever I feel like it, mostly. I usually leave it open, but I close it when I'm not in the mood to receive any.

CJJ's BAAU askbox notes:

I answer whatever ask I feel like! I do not operate on a schedule, and I do not guarantee everyone's ask will be answered, especially with factors like the amount I get, motivation to answer, and other things like if the question has been asked and answered before. Please do not feel entitled to hearing from me!

You are less likely to have your question answered if it has already been answered. This means if I said an answer in a previous ask or if a lore post answered it, I'm less likely to respond. There are some instances where I'll have new information to answer a previously asked question, which is why I'm only saying I'm less likely to answer, not ignore repeated questions outright

You might notice that I'm vague with some responses. This is usually because I want to leave things up to speculation! I don't want to share all of BAAU's story and lore from beginning to end immediately, especially when not everything is planned. So with this in mind, I won't (yet) answer endgame questions, or what happens in certain climactic scenes, etc. That is not to know so early on in baau's development! I like sharing things in a sorta linear format. If I get past the introductory part of the AU then I'd be more open to sharing the deeper heavier moments in detail.

Questions that have very subjective/speculative answers (such as the neobeasts reacting to mundane situations, questions that speculate what happens to a certain character not yet talked about, general headcanon posts that aren't super story focused) are also less likely to be answered, or at least answered vaguely. This is because I want to, again, leave room for people's own theories. I like fostering an environment of discussion!

Please do not expect me to take drawing requests! I know I have drawn for some, but it is not a guarantee nor should it be seen as a likely thing.

"Is it ok if my OC is in the au? ... can we write fanfiction?" etc - yes, it's why the tags exist!

I might answer some questions, but I'm no actual answering machine. I'm just an artist who has motivation highs and lows and answers whatever question jumps out at me in the moment. If I were to make answering everything an obligation, I would burn out real fast - and that's not fun for anyone here!

While it might look like I'm trying to bar people from asking certain things in my inbox, I don't intend for that to be the case. I don't want to undervalue the interest a lot of you have in my au. It means a lot that you have all of these questions and thoughts, and I'm very happy you enjoy what I have so far! This post is mostly just me explaining my thought process when I receive asks. For BAAU, I approach things in a mostly question-answer basis with emphasis on story clarification, and some sillies here and there! If you want to take anything from this, it's that I'd highly recommend scouring the #beast ancients au ask and general #beast ancients au tags (and the masterpost). You might find the answer to the question you were looking for, or at least find something that makes you think!

(I'll add more to this if I think of any)

Hope you understand and thanks!

[lotusloong]

I think there's not a lot of MKR stuff and it's making me sad 😭

Do you have some more headcanons about him? And would he react if reader was shy around him but would always try to look at him while he isn't (it's not oblivious that reader likes him, she/they are just way too shy to make a move XD)

Would he do something about it ? 👀

More headcanons coming up!!

So, MKR!Wukong is very…emotionally guarded. He's very hesitant to admit he cares about others because he's very used to having things taken away from him. 

But even if he doesn't tell you how much he cares with words, he definitely does with actions. 

You know that one moment where Fruitie is sitting on his shoulder but falls forward and without even looking Wukong catches him and puts him back, refusing to look at the cute spirit or acknowledge that he cares for his safety? That's something that happens with you often as well. 

You're helping set up camp and Bajie leaves you to struggle lifting heavy stuff? Wukong just steps up behind you silently and takes it from you, relieving you of the weight so you don't hurt yourself. 

If it's been a day where you can't find much food to eat for dinner that night, you don't go hungry. Wukong will notice that your portion of food is smaller than anyone else's and simply grab your bowl before shoving his own into your hands. You won't even get a chance to argue, to give him back his food, he's already eating from yours so you have no choice but to accept it. 

He will check on you that same night, asking if you need more food. If you're not full, he's not satisfied. He'll take a late night fly and look for whatever he can find, as far as he needs to go to make sure you're taken care of. 

If you try to tell him it isn't necessary, he doesn't need to go to all this trouble over you, he scoffs and rolls his eyes before grumbling that a good mate provides. So deal with it. 

Speaking of, if you want to watch Wukong blush and stutter like a goof, give him gifts and genuine compliments.

You remember when the Mountain Deity called him handsome? He stuttered and nearly dropped Jingu Bang. He will be acting the same with you. 

��Oh Wukong, you look so handsome today!” He stumbles over his own feet and stares at you like a deer in headlights before regaining control of himself.

Now if you're too shy to do such things, to act so bold, that's totally fine. 

Because he is too. 

If you manage to work up the courage to actually try and flirt with him, he's blushing just as hard as you are and trying so hard to hide it under his grumpy facade.

The two of you will stand like dorks in front of the other, fidgeting with your hands and staring at the other. 

Finally Wukong will let out a frustrated growl and all but shove his clawed hand into your personal space, glaring at the sky. 

“Just-! Just grab my hand already-” He'll huff. When you slide your own fingers into his and actually hold hands for the first time, the two of you will just look back and forth between your linked hands and each other, like you're waiting for something horrible to happen.

As the moments pass you both grow more comfortable and start to relax, shoulders drooping with relief. You'll finally get to take notice of the rough calluses on the palm of his hand and the tips of his fingers, the scars and toughened tissue on his knuckles from fighting. 

His thumb will rub back and forth over your own hand, his eyes watching in fascination, like he can't believe he's actually getting to touch you. 

Now, before you got together, Wukong was very much not a touchy monkey. The only one who could pet him was Master, and that was still a very rare occasion. 

After that first time hand holding session? He's practically glued to you. Hands laced with yours, tail wrapped around your waist or a leg, if you're sitting down he sits down right behind you so he can have his legs frame you and have his chest pressed against your back. 

The only other being who gets to touch Wukong as much as you do is Fruitie, after he joins your journey, and even then Wukong makes it clear he likes your touch the best. Fruitie is more like “this might as well happen/I don't mind so much” and your touch is more of “I love that so much please hold me more” kind of response. 

Everyone else is “stay at least 5ft out of my no-no square or I will bite.”

A relationship with him does require patience, especially if he’s in a mischievous mood! Just because he likes you best doesn’t mean you're free of his teasing. If anything, it makes it worse.

Your little pout when he’s messing with you is just too cute! 

Of course there are other faces you make that he loves just as much as, if not more.

The face you make after he kisses you? That's his favorite. Your eyelashes flutter back open and your pupils are wide with adoration and love, all directed at him - the bastard monkey with no parents, who’s always seen as a problem to get rid of instead of a person who desires basic respect.

No matter what, you are his safe space. A person who he can disappear from the world with, to escape the pressures and annoyances of his punishing journey. 

Someone who makes him happy.

[every1lvsme]

HIII IM SO HAPPY I FOUND SOMEONE WRITING FOR ELTINGVILLE (^-^) ❤️

could I request some headcanons of epilogue Josh reuniting at comicon with his ex crush from highschool, since they lost contact after the comic shop burned down? With a side dish of Josh remembering the reader very fondly as one of the only, if not the only person to have always be kind to him?

Take all the time you need and take care, thank youu 🫶😽

Hi sweetness!! Ofc I’ll do head cannons for you <33

- I think Josh in high school would’ve cared a lot more about his self image than the others in the club

- You’re definitely the one who had to make the first move talking to the poor guy

- You guys eventually become friends, hang out from time to time

- When Josh found out you were into a lot of things he also liked he allowed you more into his life

- You guys would help build each other’s collections, talk about comics, watch marathons together..

- he finally felt like he had a healthy relationship with someone, not like the eltingville clubs constant fighting

- After the fire though your parents forbade you from ever talking to him again. Saying “he’s a bad influence on you”

- You were currently at a comic con years later just browsing some random collectible items. When you heard a familiar voice freak out over someone mispronouncing the Japanese version of a show name

- And there he was, Josh levy.

- You walked through the crowd over to him. And he completely froze when he saw you. Looking both confused and excited but also incredibly awkward

- Josh literally had no idea what to say, the ONE person he actually liked in high school now in front of him at a comic con

- You could literally feel him staring at you the whole time like he’s genuinely being creepy but he’s too awkward to notice

- after some time catching up he invites you to meet up with the other guys with as well

- You talk with him and the rest of the club, being the only one to actually listen to Josh’s insane rambling

- Josh starts yelling at the others when they make jokes about peoples bodies at the con worried it’d scare you off and ruin his chances

- When the whole fight and riot breaks out at the comic con you helped a bleeding Josh out to your car to help take him home

- You guys actually stayed in contact after all the events, becoming friends again (possibly becoming more in the future 🤭)

This is something Josh has probably done btw

Sorry guys I haven’t done anything exciting today even crazy bitches need a break it’s hard out here 🥀🥀

[howdeepthegrave]

what is the headcanon you have with the isolate vocals thing

Okay fine. So, the bridge is exclusive to Lorna's version of the Ballad. It's clearly in there as a direct line to the person that version was for (Alice) and probably as a bit of an extra "hook" (people LOVE a good rockin' bridge like that in a song)

I have this idea that death was a constant fear and concern in Lorna's life, with the family curse and all. Death was a looming presence, but when Lorna started to create her own version of the Ballad to protect her child, Death really took notice. The Rio part of Death recognized that here was someone almost as desperate to protect their child as Agatha had been, but in a different way that involved giving of her own talent rather than siphoning power from others. This, I think, intrigued Rio, who, being Cosmic, found some way to meet Lorna (guided as Just A Person of course) and to get to know her more directly. To befriend her a bit.

I'm also in the fandom camp that thinks Rio secretly found ways to be around Nicky and to interact with him before his death. Maybe sometimes at night, if baby Nicky started to fuss, Rio would show up before Agatha could wake ans try to soothe their son. Talk to him, hold him, sing to him.

What if the bridge to Lorna's version of the Ballad was based on something Rio offered up? A tiny fragment of something Rio sang to Nicky centuries ago? Maybe whatever Rio used to sing to Nicky was more about the Cosmic order and the way of things, about how to be safe and careful with his fragile life, and how she loved him against all odds and against the pull of fate. Lorna worked it into the Ballad because it was the same message shs wanted to pass to Alice: I might not always be there to take care of you directly, but I've left this with you so you can be safe.

Of course this is a dumb idea and I expect to be rightly castigated by the fandom for it.

[drowsyapple]

hiiiiii i just had the worst day in a while lol 💔

so I'd like to humble request the cutest, fluffiest Caleb thing you could possibly think of 🥹

(I'm gonna do this on anon but we're moots, I'm just too shy and sad rn lol)

AWWWW ANON!! I HOPE YOUR DAY GETS BETTER <3 thank you so much for coming to me for a little pick me up :’) this is the first written work I’m putting out there (other than a headcanon) and it’s ALL FOR YOUUUUU <333 

For anyone else having a bad day, pls enjoy some domestic Caleb fluff :)) 

wc: 913

🍎����🍎

The rain pattered against the window in a steady, melancholic rhythm, matching the heavy weight in your chest as you trudged through the door of your shared apartment. Your day had been a relentless parade of frustrations—missed deadlines, a spilled coffee, and a crushing sense of loneliness that clung to you no matter how hard you tried to shake it.  

You kicked off your shoes with a sigh, not even bothering to turn on the entrance light as you shuffled inside. The apartment was dim, the gray afternoon light casting long shadows across the living room. You just wanted to collapse onto the couch and disappear into the cushions, letting the day dissolve into nothingness.  

But then, a warm, familiar scent curled into your senses. Vanilla, apple, and cinnamon. Your nose twitched, and your tired eyes flickered toward the kitchen.  

And there he was.  

Caleb stood by the stove, humming softly to himself as he stirred something in a pot, his broad shoulders relaxed, his movements effortless. The golden glow of the stove light haloed him in soft warmth, making the scene feel almost dreamlike. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused on whatever he was making, but the sight of him alone was enough to make your throat tighten.  

You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slipped free, rolling down your cheek.  

A soft clink of the spoon against the pot. Caleb turned, and his entire expression shifted the moment he saw you. His purple eyes widened, then softened with instant understanding.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, abandoning the stove in an instant.  

You barely had time to wipe at your face before his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. His embrace was warm, solid, safe—like coming home after being lost in a storm. You buried your face against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as the dam finally broke.  

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, voice muffled against him. “I don’t even know why I’m crying—”  

“Shhh,” he soothed, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades. “You don’t have to explain. Just let it out, ‘kay? I’ve got you.”  

His voice was so tender, so unwavering, that it only made you cling tighter. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for answers—just held you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, his presence a silent promise that you weren’t alone.  

When your sobs finally quieted into shaky breaths, Caleb gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. His eyes searched yours, full of nothing but warmth and concern.  

“Bad day?” he asked softly.  

You nodded, sniffling. “The worst.”  

His lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in bad-day remedies.”  

You huffed a weak laugh. “Oh yeah?”  

“Mhm.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before guiding you toward the couch. “First step: comfort.”  

Before you could protest, he had already grabbed the softest blanket from the basket nearby, draping it over your shoulders like a cape. Then, with exaggerated care, he fluffed a pillow and placed it in your lap.  

“Second step,” he continued, straightening up, “sustenance.”  

He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with a steaming mug. The rich, sweet scent of hot chocolate, real hot chocolate he made from scratch, filled the air. You accepted it gratefully, the warmth seeping into your chilled fingers.  

Caleb knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he peered up at you with those endless amethyst eyes. “Third step,” he said, voice dropping into a playful whisper, “distraction.”  

You raised a brow. “What kind of distraction?”  

His grin turned mischievous. “The best kind.”  

Before you could react, his fingers skated up your sides, tickling mercilessly. You shrieked, nearly spilling your drink as you writhed away, laughter bursting out of you despite your earlier gloom.  

“Caleb! Stop—!” you gasped between giggles.  

He relented, but not without pressing a smug kiss to your nose. “There’s that smile,” he murmured, satisfied.  

You swatted at him half-heartedly, but your chest felt lighter already.  

Caleb settled beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as you sipped your hot chocolate. The rain continued outside, but now it felt cozy rather than oppressive, the sound blending with the quiet hum of the apartment.  

“You know,” he said after a moment, fingers idly playing with your hair, “I was thinking we could order takeout tonight. That new place you like. And maybe put on that terrible rom-com you pretend you don’t love.”  

You tilted your head to look at him. “You’d subject yourself to that?”  

He smirked. “For you? Absolutely.”  

Your heart swelled. This man—this impossibly kind, patient, loving man—had a way of making even the worst days feel bearable.  

You set your mug aside and turned fully toward him, cupping his face in your hands. His expression softened, his eyes flickering between yours.  

“Thank you,” you whispered.  

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Always.”  

And just like that, the world felt right again.  

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

But many of these people aren’t really Tolkien fans, others yes. There are some users I can really see they don’t know the first thing about Tolkien work. Especially the antis, they are just fishing for stuff in Tolkien that can be used to “debunk” Sauron x Galadriel. The thing is they don’t understand the complexities of Tolkien work nor the legendarium. RoP could have Galadriel and Sauron f*cking and her spending thousands of years repenting it would fit Tolkien legendarium, because she’s a “penitent” character due to her “lust for power and dominion”.

And hard agree on the Tolkien fandom, they mistake fanon for canon often, and don’t understand what the “legendarium” or “lore” is (they mistake it for “book canon”, when it’s the themes of Tolkien work, the myth he created), which, to me, is why many in the Tolkien fandom can’t accept RoP, because it’s showing their headcanons are wrong, and then accuse Simon Tolkien of being a “sell out”.

Others are only RoP fans and I notice some are still bitter Halbrand turned out to be Sauron. But that’s not our fault, is it?

The common theme here is always the same, though. Sauron x Galadriel. It can only happen in fanfiction. Under no circumstances can the show go there.

It’s very sad to see @rey-jake-therapist go from the Sauron x Galadriel fandom, we just lost one of our main meta writers. I don’t know if she will read this, but I completely understand and emphasize with her choice. Fandom should be fun, which isn’t the case with this one, not unless we exist in a echo chamber (which is how I get by). If deleting was her way to protect her peace, she did what was best for her.

I hope she might return when Season 3 starts, because, while we often disagreed, I enjoyed every discussion we had, and I liked to read her perspective. I don’t see disagreement as a bad thing, and Rey made me change my mind about some of my own theories, which is a good thing. She was always open for discussion and engage with different ideas of her own.

It’s not us meta writers who are “toxic”, it’s the people who think they “own” and “created” the fandom, and only fanfiction is allowed. From my part, I say fuck them. They already made me lockdown my blog once. I know who they are and what they said about me, and Rey, at the time, and it hasn’t stopped ever since, it seems. The Sauron x Galadriel fandom has been around since the 1970s, RoP just made it mainstream. Folks older than some of your parents already shipped Galadriel with Annatar/Sauron.

From my part, I’m not going anywhere. I won’t censure myself, either. This is my blog, and I’ll write about whatever I want, whenever I want. I don’t give two shits if my theories are considered “offensive” to whoever. Grow a pair. This is fiction we are talking about. I’ve probably been a Tolkien fan for longer than some of these kids have been alive, they won’t bully me into silence.

[sonknuxadow]

the way people are always denying that sonic and tails are brothers whenever one or both of them appears in a sibling related poll is so sad. you hate little guys ? you hate family born of love and not genetics ? you hate youre my mom and dad and picket fence ?