#☆ survival instinct: headcanons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deathfavor · 2 years ago

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I touched on this briefly with my other headcanon and canon mentions it. But Kazutora’s brain is hardwired to the you can only chose one side mentality because that was the environment he was brought up in and forced into. His mother or his father. Himself or others. One or the other. Never both. Never, ever both.

He had to ‘sacrifice’ Mikey in his head to be able to save himself from the guilt. He never would intentionally do that when he really did only mean well. He wanted to make Mikey happy. But the crime was done and there was nothing he could do about it. So he projected everything onto Mikey to save himself. Mikey himself said all of Kazutora’s pain and suffering was his. Kazutora took that rather LITERALLY. He pushed it all onto Mikey, and then needed to ‘destroy’ it in some way. He needed it gone because otherwise it would always be a threat to him and his survival. If you are my pain, then if I destroy you, then I’ll destroy my pain, ergo I’ll survive and be okay.

Mikey’s “ Am I your enemy? “ question causes another snap in Kazutora as we see. Kazutora had already projected this idea of pain onto Mikey, but that question puts him in the same spot as are you on your father’s side, or my side? His eyes waver for a second because it hits something deep. Now he’s ACTIVELY forced into a choice rather than just projecting or deciding it in his brain. Now he HAS to say it and act on it even further than he has at that point. He HAS to in his own head.

And Baji....Baji absolutely breaks my heart. Because we know, Kazutora says it himself, that Baji is the most precious thing to him. But when he’s told that Baji is a traitor after all? He can’t handle it. It’s a threat so much worse than anything else that he has to go to more extreme efforts. One side or another. Toman or him. Not even Valhalla, but him. Like I said, you can only choose one side in Kazutora’s head. You can’t have both. He takes it not as Baji betraying Valhalla, but as Baji betraying HIM, abandoning him, for something else. Everyone else in his life already had. His parents, his fake friends, Toman, Baji was the only one who hadn’t abandoned him, and he was always deeply terrified that one day Baji would. Baji was the sole exception to Kazutora’s thoughts that people betray you. He was there. he was his saving light. He was the one good thing Kazutora ever really had. Not to mention that in this Valhalla & Toman showdown, Kazutora is already in a very unstable state because he was fighting with Mikey, his other walking source of pain. AND he’s full of adrenaline which makes even stable people not think things through. It’s too much.

Kazutora can’t, he can’t handle something so threatening it would destroy him. When it’s whispered in his ear that he’s being betrayed, he has to chose himself. Suddenly Baji’s become another threat in that frenzied moment. Kazutora can’t think, he can only act when under an active threat. He acted, because as I’ve said, in moments of high emotion and threat, Kazutora acts on instinct. He ‘fights’ to survive against whatever the perceived threat it, be it literal like Shin or soul-crushing betrayal like he was told Baji was doing. He doesn’t think, he just does. He attempts to put the pain to Mikey, but then he finally acknowledges he did it. He’s his own biggest threat, he’s destroyed the only thing that truly matters to him.

And then Baji gets up, and Kazutora’s so full of hope for a moment. That maybe he is okay. But he isn’t. And Baji........Baji is the only person who understands Kazutora. His mindset. One or the other. He takes that burden from Kazutora by doing the worst damage himself. One or the other? Then Baji will make sure Kazutora doesn’t have to choose this time. And it’s so, so devastating to Kazutora. He can’t undo anything, he can’t change it. He can finally see it from another angle when its the choice is not in his hands but its too late.

#᛭ — [HEADCANON] dark dreams await you [KAZUTORA HANEMIYA]#it really was him being played like a puppet #both by others and his mind #knowing his instinct is to survive against threats #its not about the gang its abt HIM being abandoned #by the only good thing he has v.v

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clemencetaught · 1 year ago

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probably one of the worst things I realized about verse three patrick is that he doesn’t base his circle of acquaintances/friends on compatibility.

It’s based on whether they’re going to hurt him and/or how much he thinks they're going to hurt him. That’s how he decides whether he likes someone or not- he’s so used to being metaphorically stabbed/blamed for something that isn’t his fault that when he encounters someone who he ends up in a neutral interaction or someone who doesn’t have any covert intentions interacting with him it surprises him….and I think that’s really sad 😞

#the victor ( headcanons. )#literally one of the reasons he was drawn to felicity in this verse #is bc he realized 'oh she's not hurting me/i'm not getting hurt when i'm around her and that's intriguing'#AND LIKE?? THAT'S NOT A REASON TO BE ATTRACTED TO SOMEONE D-:#man is so used to being used/stabbed metaphorically ( or literally ) that when someone DOESN'T do either those things #he's confused....D-:#why do you think his favorite person ( aside from hyuk ) is his cat....it's bc she relies on him for food #she doesn't have a reason to hurt him and when she does it's survival instincts #he can count one hand the ppl who he knows won't hurt him- hyuk. felicity. and that's it ://#deva joins eventually but that's under not so great circumstances #taiyang was not on that list bc patrick is ( was ) pretty sure if given the chance tai would stab him ( bc of link )#and he doesn't much about maría yet so she's a wild card #van is also on thin ice #basically this post is 'why patrick needs therapy and fast'

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godzexperiment · 2 years ago

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~the thoughts about nix's choice of weapon consumed me~

the way, nix's default and go to weapon is knives- how his go to blade in most verses is an pocket knife he swiped on his way out.

-it being an close, personal weapon if he does end up having to use it. *in an case throwing isnt viable* (how interesting that can be as it means when he does an first stabbing especially of the fatal sort- it's rather direct contact to add onto the horror of having done so)

-especially that he is not really violent; despite his demeanor. *most verses at least* so the way he is always fidgeting with knives/throwing them is scary seeming to lots but it's usually just him vibing. (it's noticeable when its an stabby type of intent/mood) -certainly something to be said that it reflects, mirrors his inner turmoil (the desire to be known, closeness. the way it's such an personal/close way of hurting or taking another life even if just for him internally. especially that first time.) -just has an fondness for knives; he can't quite explain why things like twirling one between his fingers is mostly an soothing thing etc but it's habitual formed from time up in heaven too so it's not a habit he can break

-which sure he practiced with say like swords at times, but was permitted to mess around with knives so he did just that and it stuck to him *didn't even quite learn/practice fighting techniques for intended purposes it was mostly boredom+self entertainment* -also! the way nix in 'human' verses namely in vega just opting out overall but favoring knives (no memory- but trusty ole pinprick always with him) however proficient at various weapons/lingering micro adjustments ability etc. pretty often only has his issued side arm on to not get in trouble. -^ the real big thing is his ability as an sniper, rather prefers to be super reliable support from an distance. (not as some say cuz he's an coward) it does mirror, reflect the distance he prefers to keep from people. but also that he'll very much protect others just in his own way.

#guns mention cw #violence cw #<< falling apart at the seams i cant deny >> headcanons #(the way i always have brain rot regarding this)#(of course there is more to it like say nix being scared he'll be numb or enjoy violence etc)#(but like mostly just aaa his weapon choices reflecting so much about him)#(you could say he also is so distant from himself/the lack of memories and that also might be part of why the sniper suits him)#(also the way nix is probably highly skilled and yet shelters it from being common knowledge?)#(that also factors in with other hcs such as the way he's just always not having good connection with people in those verses)#(nix in the archangel corps- getting in trouble so much with others and being the target of harassment both justified and not)#('you think you're sooo much better than us' nix after 3 days working on cable management in the broadcasting center like 'ha ha yep')#(it's in part as he is the easiest to target/has the most will brush off nature etc)#(some of it is just his ability to inact that odd human survival instinct of 'this guy isnt human but none of us know that even him')#(so- you take the bad blood you do know of and justify things especially when he returns the disdain)#(-head so full of these thoughts and im making myself stop rambling now lmao-)

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nanamiscocksleeve · 3 months ago

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Someone You Loved

I'm a mess since I finished Xavier's myth and my period came early so now I'm just sad and can't focus on anything else. Headcanons for the men when MC breaks up with them. Warnings: None, but lots of angst because everything SUCKS. Love and Deepspace. Hmph. More like Love and Deep Depression.

In the darkness, Zayne wakes suddenly, his hands instinctively reaching out to pull you to him; only for his grasp to curl into cold sheets and emptiness.

How long had it been? Since he’d slept peacefully? The nightmares never seemed to plague him when you were asleep beside him in his bed, your breath softly ghosting the crook of his neck. He glances up at the ceiling trying to calm his breath. The little dreamcatcher you’d hung so long ago sways slightly and his heart clenches. The bed felt too big for just him. Before meeting you he slept in the middle; now he can’t bring himself to take back your half, leaving it empty, remembering the way your curled form occupied it.

The only time he saw you was when you came in for your checkup. And you seemed fine, which was good, but a part of him is haunted by the possibility that maybe something about him had made you leave him. You had insisted it wasn’t but he can’t help but run scenarios over and over in mind, swirling like a mess of ink in water.

Perhaps his reticent nature had finally driven you away. Or his sarcasm. Or maybe the scars on his hands. Women didn’t like scarred men, did they? He’d wondered about that for too long before Greyson, catching him staring at his hands, said, “Your hands are healing Dr. Zayne. Why do you look at them so doubtfully?”

After those words had been spoken, Zayne had thrown himself into his work. He’d always been a workaholic of course, but it had amplified to a point where he couldn’t go home. It was on purpose. He slept in his office until his superior had caught him, insisting he can’t sleep here.

No one was checking in on him. No one to remind him to take a break or to coax him into taking a nap in between patients. No one waking him up with a smile and a slice of cake that they’d picked up on their way to his place.

The nightmares started after he tried sleeping at home. He hates himself for feeling like a little boy, unable to sleep without a security blanket. But he needed you. The way all living things needed air and sunlight to thrive, he needed you in such a poignant way that it almost stops his blood knowing you’re not in his life anymore.

He knows he needs to sleep. Silently, because that’s what he’d grown accustomed to, silently rolling out to bed so as to not disturb you, he pads over to his closet and pulls out a t-shirt, far too small to be one of his own.

The t-shirt had somehow survived the purge, the day you’d taken all your stuff out of his apartment. It was strange to look at his apartment now because all he sees are the empty spaces you left behind. The spots on the windowsill where your little planters used to be. The blank space on the nightstand on your side of the bed where your phone, earbuds, and hand lotion used to once sit. The cup in the bathroom now holds only one toothbrush.

He brings the t-shirt to his nose and instantly your scent fills his being. He’s thankful he didn’t return it to you as he’d initially planned. The piece of fabric that retained the wonderful smell of your shampoo and the fresh scent of your skin. It calmed him. Cradling it against his cheek, he makes his way back to the bed, laying the t-shirt on his pillow and burying his nose into it as he tries to find a comfortable position.

The t-shirt works its magic, eventually lulling him into a dreamless sleep. The only peace he’s ever known was when he was with you.

It was hard to avoid Xavier no matter where you went. His being your upstairs neighbor and your mission partner made it impossible not to see him. His chest ached whenever he saw you but he masked it with a smile. He never stopped looking out for you. Because he had promised, hadn’t he? So many centuries ago, in a different lifetime, that he’d always be there for you no matter what?

The day of the breakup is always a blur to him. He can’t recall any of the details, but he remembers your face with clarity, remembers the pained expression in your eyes. He had soothingly embraced you, encouraging you to talk to him about what was bothering you, because even his deepest worries never fathomed the idea of you leaving him.

Xavier had frozen when you had tearfully whispered that you wanted to break up. Surely he had misheard you? But no, he hadn’t. You had tried, in vain, to get him to explain where he disappeared to. It bothered you when Xavier disappeared and it didn’t matter if he came back each time. You told him you wanted the truth, and nothing less than that would convince you to stay. Xavier had faltered; he knew he owed it to you, but he didn’t know where to begin.

Philos was a distant dream, probably lost to time and deepspace but he couldn’t help it. The possibility of returning to his own timeline weighed down on him, a heavy burden of duty. If it had been just him, he would have gladly given up months ago, content to stay here with you. But the crew that had accompanied him, dedicated to his cause, stuck here because of his decisions deserved the chance, and he couldn’t give up on them.

Knowing he would never be able to explain without hurting you, he had given you a sad smile, his blue eyes growing misty as he tried to put conviction into his words. “I hope you find someone more worthy.” The feeling of your hands leaving his felt like a rift had divided his heart into two, a chasm separating you both. You left his apartment, and he spent the night on his balcony, listening to your sobs carrying through the air, not knowing how he could take away your pain.

With much trial and error, Xavier now had a cordial relationship with you. He accompanied you whenever you asked. He still hung out with you at the arcade and came out for hot pot whenever you asked. Because hadn’t he promised to love you even when you weren’t his?

Xavier watches you talking to Tara and when you finally catch his eye, you give him a smile and wave, which he returns. Although he wishes you weren’t broken up, it always brings him relief to see you smiling. He had felt the satisfaction of watching you become a happier person, seeing you grow and eventually finding joy around you. And that would have to be enough.

He would settle for having you in his life any way he could, even if you decided you didn’t love him. Because after losing you twice, he’d take anything to cut his losses.

Thomas follows Rafayel around his studio. He can see the state Rafayel is in, the dark bags under his eyes, and the unkempt hair and clothes.

“Rafayel, I think some rest-”

“I don’t need it.” Rafayel picks up a paintbrush, which is already messy from the various hues it was dipped into previously and begins to put strokes onto his canvas. Across the room are scattered paintings and unfinished sculptures, all half-done and looking rather gloomy.

Thomas tries again. “I can book you a weekend at your favorite onsen. Perhaps a massage. It’ll help clear your head.”

Rafayel glares at him, anger in his lavender eyes. “I said I don’t need it. I have work to do. You know where the door is.”

Signing, Thomas takes his dismissal and the studio is plunged into silence. Rafayel tries again to finish his painting then grits his teeth and hurls the paintbrush away. Droplets of paint drip across the marble floor as it clatters some feet away.

It had been a while since you had broken up with him and Rafayel feels like he’s stuck in time. All his works are incomplete, becoming a neverending list of things that he might never actually pay attention to again.

Of late, he’s obsessed with trying to paint you, but each time he recalls your face, something or the other feels off. The shape of your eyes, too slanted to be accurate, the curve of your nose, too round to be correct, haunt him as he gazes at the canvas before him. It was you, yet it wasn’t you.

There’s panic growing in his chest at the idea that he might be forgetting what you look like. His hands and memory seem to be at odds with each other, unable to communicate and translate what he was remembering onto paper.

He traces the edge of your face, the paint smearing his fingertips, frustration welling up in his heart. He feels disappointed in himself. Hadn’t he said to himself that even if you forgot, he’d remember for the both of you? Yet now, he can’t recall the features of your face, like the image of you in his head was behind a pixelated curtain, and all he could recollect were rough features that somewhat resembled you.

He might put himself into a manic state. He hasn’t slept, haunted by the possibility that he may never paint your portrait accurately again. Rafayel pulls out his phone, the light illuminating his tired face and he desperately looks through his photos. A few days after the breakup, in a fit of rage, he’d deleted all your photos off his phone, an action he now regretted.

“Please…please…there’s gotta be at least one…” he prays as he swipes through the pictures. As he’s about to give up, he finally comes across a single photo, a group picture, taken from his art exhibition some time ago. And there you are, all your features coming back to him with painful clarity. With a sigh, he picks up a fresh paintbrush and tries again, feeling relief flood him as your familiar face finally begins to bloom onto the canvas.

Luke and Kieran looked in concern at the closed door of Sylus’s room. Sylus wasn't the type to conduct business remotely. Even with all the henchmen at his disposal, he still preferred going out into the N109 zone to ensure his armories and money accounts were secure. But after the breakup, he had been delegating more and mingling with his associates less.

The missing bottles of whiskey hadn’t gone unnoticed by their keen eyes, and the twins carefully crack open his bedroom door a fraction. He’s slumped over the large desk made of fine oak wood, a liquor bottle cracked open, and a glass in his hand.

His ruby eyes are hazy and it’s clear he’s intoxicated. The little grumpy crow plushie was sitting on his desk, and his unfocused eyes were gazing in reminiscence at it while Mephisto glared at the soft toy in objection.

“Boss?” Luke dares to approach him, and Sylus looks up sharply.

“What?” The irritation in his voice is evident.

“Um…Your meeting with the protocore dealer. He just left a message saying he hasn’t been able to get in touch with you and…” His voice falters as Sylus’s eyes glow like embers in a fireplace.

“He can wait.” The words are snarled as he downs the whiskey in a single gulp before pouring more. “Get out.”

Luke and Kieran retreat but they glance at each other despairingly. This was the N109 zone after all. Dealings with mafia leaders didn’t just get put on hold without consequences.

“Damn it all,” Sylus murmurs. He swirls the whiskey in his glass, and all he sees are your eyes, fixated on him in horror. He was used to the erratic atmospheric changes in the N109 zone but the night you left, it felt like he was being choked by the air, not a drop of oxygen left for him to breathe in. He knew he’d overdone it when threatening the merchant, knew he should have controlled himself from using his evol as cruelly as he had. But he needed the upper hand and the only way knew how to assert himself was through violence.

He’d never hurt you. His precious little dove, his whole heart. But what you’d witnessed had left you terrified of him and his ominous abilities. Sylus had begged; his pride wasn’t so great as to risk losing you. He’d fallen to his knees, his arms locked around your waist, his cheek resting on your chest, listening to the way your heart was beating in your ribcage. It was hard to say how long the two of you had remained that way until you had gently disengaged from his grip, bid him goodbye, and left. He wasn’t deterred at first, calling and texting you desperately, sending gifts and bouquets to your door until you had called him and told him to stop.

He drinks, feeling the heat and the sting of the whiskey as it goes down his throat, the only thing that helped with the pain. You were the sunlight in this dark world and without you, Sylus feels nothing except coldness. You were gone, the only blessing he’d ever received.

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @ladyparamount

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unhinged-bratty-boy · 27 days ago

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Dabi - sad headcanons

This is my first time writing anything, be gentle with me 🙏🏻

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just a bored glance while killing time in the a convenience store as he waited for his contact to show. But then you walked in.

At first, he didn’t think much of it - just another face in the endless sea of strangers. But something about you made him pause. The way you casually brushed hair from your face while scanning shelves, the soft hum of a song under your breath, completely unaware of the world around you. You were normal. Unshattered. Alive.

His sharp, turquoise eyes narrowed, lingering longer than they should’ve. He blamed it on curiosity. Something about you felt warm in a way he hadn’t experienced in years - like standing too close to a hearth after a lifetime of cold. It made him uncomfortable. Made him angry.

He should’ve walked away. He didn’t.

Dabi followed you out of the store without even realizing it. At first, it was instinct - silent footsteps slipping through the dark alleys like a shadow as he followed. He told himself he just wanted to see where you lived. Just a quick glance, nothing more.

This one time turned into a shady routine for him. He had to know more.

Within days, he knew your routine - when you left for work, when you returned, where you shopped. He mapped out the weakest points of your flat with practiced efficiency - windows that didn’t lock quite right, a back door that stuck if you didn’t shove it hard enough. Old habits. Necessary. Just in case.

At night, he watched the soft glow of your apartment lights from across the street, imagining what your life must be like on the inside. Warm, ordinary, safe. He hated how much he wanted it.

One day, when he saw you struggling with heavy grocery bags, the opportunity was too perfect to pass up. He shoved his hands deep into his material pants pockets, masking the nervous twitch of his fingers.

"Need a hand?" His voice was rough, casual - but there was something too sharp in his gaze, too focused.

You hesitated for just a moment before offering a grateful smile that hit him like a punch to the chest.

"Thank you! These bags are killing me."

He took them without another word, pretending the weight didn’t bother him. He could feel your eyes on him, curious, a little suspicious but not wary - not yet.

As you walked together, you talked - about nothing, really. The weather, the annoying store line, small, inconsequential things. But every word out of your mouth felt like oxygen to a man used to suffocating.

When you unlocked your door and turned back to him, smiling that same soft, trusting smile, he swore he felt his ruined heart stutter.

"Thanks again... um...?" you prompted, clearly expecting a name.

For a split second, he considered giving his real name - Touya - but killed the thought immediately. Too dangerous. Too personal.

"Dabi," he said instead, voice low, almost daring you to question it.

"Weird name," you said playfully, completely unfazed. How sweet you didn't recognise his villain name. "But thanks, Dabi. I really appreciate it."

Dabi always got what he wanted. He was ruthless, cunning, relentless. He should’ve burned this weakness out of himself the moment he realized what was happening. But he couldn't. He wanted you. All of you. And he was about to make you his.

This was how you two started seeing each other.

Dabi never calls your flat a home. The word sticks in his throat like ash. Home was burned away years ago, leaving only the cold, empty shell of survival. The apartment he crushes in from time to time is just a place where he exists, not where he belongs.

He lives in your home like a visitor overstaying his welcome. His clothes stay packed in a small, battered duffel bag shoved under the bed. “It’s just easier this way,” he mutters when you ask why he never uses the closet.

No matter how much he scrubs his skin, the faint scent of burning flesh never fades. He can see you notice but pretends he doesn’t. It makes him feel disgusted with his own self. It makes him feel guilty because you deserve much better. When you light scented candles or spray room freshener, he flinches inwardly, convinced you’re trying to mask the stench of him.

Every time he touches you, it feels like a silent goodbye. His hands are scarred and trembling, his grip tight like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. When he holds you, it’s never soft - it’s desperate, bruising, clinging. He needs the reminder that you’re real, that he’s still here, that he hasn’t burned you away yet.

He doesn’t say “I love you” because he thinks it’s a lie. People like him can’t love - not properly. Not in ways that don’t hurt. But sometimes, late at night when he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll trace your features with the lightest touch, memorizing every line like he’s carving you into his memory - for when you’re gone.

He expects you to leave. He knows you will, eventually. Everyone does. He can’t stop his sharp tongue or bitter jabs when he feels too close - it’s his defense mechanism. If you get too close, you might see him for what he really is - broken, twisted, beyond saving. Better that you leave on your terms than pity him.

Dabi barely sleeps. On good nights, he dozes fitfully beside you, waking at every small noise like he’s still being hunted. On bad nights, he sits by the window until dawn, smoking one cigarette after another, eyes fixed on your soft, relaxed features as you're deep in your slumber.

Late at night, when the world is still, you often find him standing at the window, his eyes tired, staring into the endless dark. His cigarette burns low between scarred fingers, ash scattering unnoticed, staining your floor. "Touya, come back to bed," you ask, improving your silky nightgown around yourself. He doesn’t turn around. His voice is rough, distant, "Tsk. Don't call me Touya. He is long dead."

On his worst days, he believes he deserves the pain. He’ll disappear without a word, returning with fresh burns hidden beneath his sleeves, the acrid smell of charred skin lingering around him. You know better than to ask where he’s been - his hollow eyes tell you everything you need to know.

Dabi doesn’t believe in a future - not for himself. The idea of living a long, peaceful life feels like a cruel joke. He talks about “when” he has to leave, never “if.” He’s already made peace with the fact that whatever this is - you and him - won’t last. Nothing ever does.

He keeps insignificant things - crumbled notes you left on the fridge, your old scarf that still smells faintly of your perfume, a broken hairclip. He stashes them in a small, dented box under his bed in the LOV hideout. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he pulls the box out and runs his fingers over the keepsakes, pretending, for a few minutes, that he’s someone worth remembering.

When you fight, Dabi lashes out like a wounded animal, sharp and cruel. His words are designed to hurt because he expects you to leave anyway - better to make you hate him than to watch you drift away. But afterward, he’s consumed by guilt, curling into himself like a burned-out ember.

He can’t say sorry - not with words at least. But after a fight, you’ll find your favorite snacks mysteriously restocked, the blanket you love folded neatly on the couch, a worn apology scrawled on a crumpled scrap of paper left where you can find it. He’s trying - in the only ways he knows how.

Dabi isn’t someone meant for love - but God, how he wants it. He knows he’ll never deserve you, that this life he’s stumbled into is a borrowed dream destined to shatter. But for now - for however long this fragile, imperfect thing lasts - he’ll hold on with both hands, knowing that in the end, he’ll be the one left burning.

#dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi angst #dabi x reader #touya todoroki angst #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya headcanons #mha headcanons #league of villains #bnha headcanons #mha angst #dabi is touya #dabi drabble

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awkward-walking-potato · 4 months ago

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Can I request headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and Kurt would think about his gender neutral s/o asking him if they can hold his hand or arm if they're scared before watching a scary Halloween movie please?

Headcanons: Remy, Logan, Wade, and Kurt on their Gender-Neutral S/O Asking to Hold Their Hand/Arm Before a Scary Halloween Movie

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Playful Teasing: The second you ask Remy if you can hold his hand or arm, a sly grin spreads across his face. He loves that you're trusting him to comfort you, but he's gotta tease you a little first.

“Oh, chère, scared already? We ain’t even hit play yet,” he’d say with a chuckle, winking at you.

He’d definitely let you hold onto him, though, lacing his fingers with yours without hesitation. He might even wrap an arm around you, pulling you closer for extra security.

Protective Instincts: The idea that you're scared and coming to him for comfort sparks his protective side. He likes being someone you feel safe with.

During the movie, he’d periodically check on you with little side glances, making sure you're doing okay. If he feels you tense up during a particularly scary scene, he’d squeeze your hand reassuringly.

Subtle Bravery Boosts: Remy would quietly hype you up, whispering things like, “Ain’t nothin’ in the movie scarier than me, cher. You’re safe.”

And when you do grip his arm during a jump scare, he’ll smirk and say, “Got ya, didn’t it? Don’t worry, Gambit’s right here.”

Logan (Wolverine)

Soft Under the Rough Exterior: When you ask Logan if you can hold his hand or arm, he’ll grumble something like, “You don’t need to be scared of some movie.” But despite his gruff tone, he’ll offer his hand immediately, maybe even gently wrapping your hand in his big one.

He likes being your safe place, even if he’d never admit it.

Subtle Comfort: Logan’s not one for big shows of affection, but his way of comforting you would be to quietly let you hold onto him however you need.

If you’re holding his arm and you grip it a little tighter when things get intense, he won’t say anything—he might just move his arm closer, making it easier for you to lean on him.

Reassurance Through Actions: When the movie gets particularly scary, Logan might just nonchalantly place a hand on your shoulder or pull you closer without a word. He’s not big on verbal reassurance, but his actions speak volumes.

“Ain’t nothin’ in this movie that could stand up to me, so you’re safe,” he’d mutter at some point, just to remind you that, in real life, he’s scarier than any movie monster.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Dramatic Acceptance: The moment you ask Wade if you can hold his hand or arm, he gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, yes! I thought you’d never ask!” He’s over-the-top with his excitement and will immediately hold out both arms, offering you the choice.

“Do you want this hand or this arm? Maybe both? Do you want to hold my entire body for comfort? I mean, I get it.”

Constant Commentary: While you're watching the movie, Wade will crack jokes about the scary parts to make you feel less afraid. He’ll probably act like he's also scared (even if he's not) just to bond with you over it.

“Oh no, babe! We’re in this together now! We’ll survive the haunted house, or at least... I'll be the bait.”

Affectionate Distraction: Whenever you flinch or squeeze his hand during a jump scare, Wade will use it as an excuse to get extra cuddly. He’d likely say, “See, this is why you date a man who can regenerate. I’ll just grow new limbs if the monsters get me first.”

He’ll hold your hand the whole time, though, genuinely loving that you trust him enough to reach out for comfort.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

Gentle and Reassuring: The moment you ask Kurt if you can hold his hand or arm, he’d smile warmly and take your hand immediately. There’s no teasing or hesitation—he’s more than happy to be your source of comfort.

“Of course, mein Schatz,” he’d say, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He’s touched that you’d come to him when you're feeling scared.

Comforting Presence: Kurt would naturally move a little closer to you, maybe even drape his tail around your shoulders as a form of comfort. He’s so gentle and understanding that his presence alone would make you feel safer.

Throughout the movie, he’d whisper soft reassurances in German or English, saying things like, “It’s just a movie, love. You’re safe with me.”

Affectionate Gestures: When you grip his hand tightly during the jump scares, he’d blush a little but wouldn’t pull away. He’d lean in slightly, offering you his arm to cling to as well.

“I’m right here, always,” he’d murmur if you got especially tense, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand to soothe you

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froggibus · 6 months ago

Text

Camping Headcanons - Batboys + Wally West

Includes: Dick Grayson x gn! reader, Jason Todd x gn! reader, Tim Drake x gn! reader, Wally West x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, mild crack

Summary: spend a weekend away from the city camping with your boyfriend

CW: batboys have peak survival skills, Wally is very Wally, lots of classic camping fun

this is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Dick Grayson:

prefers to camp somewhere off the grid

loves traditional camping and is not at all opposed to just…sleeping on the floor of a tent

can almost definitely set up a tent in two seconds flat—even the jumbo ones that are supposed to take two people to set up

definitely helps that he’s flexible

if there was a medal for best at camping, he’d probably win it

it's almost annoying how on point his survival instincts are

he can spearfish and does it just to show off

can cook pretty much anything over a fire but if it were up to him he’d just eat soup, burgers & hotdogs the whole weekend

packs 12 pairs of underwear for a weekend of camping

also has insane packing skills, like he could pack 2 weeks worth of supplies in one backpack

even if its not sunny, he WILL somehow tan just from being outside

Jason Todd:

also likes camping off the grid

unlike Dick, he probably prefers sleeping in a trailer or a cabin if he can help it

It’s not that he’s against sleeping in a tent or anything

but he’s spent so much time sleeping on the hard ground/freezing his ass off that if he can afford the extra comfort, he’ll spring for it

so much more relaxed when you’re camping—it’s almost like he’s a different person

brings about a dozen books to read for like, three days of camping

if you weren’t with him he’d probably read them all too

even if you’re staying in a place with a stove, he INSISTS on cooking stuff over the campfire

a really good campfire cook too—he’ll make you some insane salmon & the most golden toasty s'mores for dessert

dork ass loves telling you scary ghost stories with a flashlight under his chin and everything

all so that you’ll cuddle closer to him that night

lets you wear his comfy clothes and his jacket if it’s cold outside and claims he ‘doesn’t get cold’

Tim Drake:

hard to convince him to leave Gotham for the weekend (mr weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders)

threaten to go camping by yourself and suddenly he’ll never leave your side

only camped at fancy resorts/nice cabins before Bruce

really enjoys being off the grid and being self sustaining though

loves those “cooking in nature” tiktoks and probably wants to try them for himself

doesn’t care where he sleeps as long as it has walls—but for you, he’ll get the warmest, comfiest tent or cabin possible

is weirdly prepared for almost any situation AND knows all of your cravings before you even have them

“I really wish we had strawberry marshmallows to make smores with”

“check my green backpack”

brings lots of different card games and WILL beat you at all of them before the trip is over

bring your own secret deck of Uno and watch him have a meltdown wondering how you could possibly have so many +4s

somehow knows exactly what went down with everyone while you were away

Wally West:

he’s like a kid again (as if he ever grew up let’s be fr)

already has muscle pains from running around so much so at the very least he’s getting the comfiest air mattress ever

but most likely he’ll want to stay in a cozy cabin way off the grid

with him, no campsite is too far or too remote

cannot cook for shit but will grill you the best burgers and hot dogs ever

cannot roast s’mores for shit either

they WILL catch fire and be completely crispy

offer him one of yours PLEASE

“nah babe, I just really like them like this”

liar.

loves loves LOVES campfire cuddles and uses every reason under the sun to cozy up with you

tries to tell scary stories (that he stole from Dick who stole them from Bruce) but ends up freaking both of you out

has to do at least one (1) vigorous activity every day or he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night

has a secret never ending stash of candy on him & shares them with you

packs exactly two pairs of underwear for the entire weekend & is completely unprepared

however if you forget or need anything else it is a CRIME and he will go get it for you

manages to stretch a three day camping trip into a week

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | DC Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

#dc #batfam headcanons #batfam x reader #wally west x reader #headcanons #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #the flash x reader #wally west headcanons #dick grayson headcanons #jason todd headcanons #tim drake headcanons

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