#( he would be so unwillingly fond of all of them )

[phantomforce]

❝ — hobie. ❞ a name unspeakably gentle in its utterance / from a voice hardly raised. soft as always, that wraps around the other like moonlight, like a chill that threatens to unravel the spine — melodic, “malevolent,” & a fine line that it walks in between. intimidation, he knows, that falls completely FLAT with the threat of a smile hidden beneath his mask ; amusement bitten back & bleeding through his teeth. his usual stoicism falters, & that by itself, is enough to show that the venom that he speaks with is a lie. completely & utterly so. even if there is still an attempt on his end, arms crossed, & head tilted in a display of faux agitation — fingers twitching, a subtle & silent warning of the phantom limb that was dangerously close to materializing out of his shoulder to smack him on the head. ❝ this is the third time already — ask me to possess miguel again and i promise that it’ll be YOUR body that i decide to take over. ❞ a pause, a beat, & a “contemplative” glance to the ceiling above. ❝ — i could use the extra height, anyway. the youth too. ❞ ❝ . . . . . . . you’re not really using those, right ? ❞

@h0b1e liked for a starter ( ♡ ) !!

[toshn]

mark grayson: “i don't want you to go—“

— contents: spending time with mark before he leaves for a mission. — from the author: i kinda had a like superhero!reader in mind because why not. but it’s totally fine if u imagine reader as just a civilian. i'll also try to post more often! c:

“i hate getting sandy feet.”

you whined, the sunset’s glow reflecting on the ocean’s surface, leaving traces of its’ warmth on your face in its’ wake. you could feel the waves crashing right in front of you, gently caressing your legs before returning back into its' vast sea of blue.

you were at the beach with mark, and you had the place all to yourselves. you two decided to spend the whole day together and make the most out of the time he has left before going on a crazy space alien mission. you knew this mission could take weeks—months even, and this would mean you'd be mark-deprived for more than just the usual couple of days due to college. you always told mark you understood his situation, and you really did. after all, he had some big shoes to fill in. because of the distraught and calamity omni-man left behind on earth, you could sense the underlying guilt mark had because of what his father did. you knew deep down he was trying to atone for everything he caused, even if he never outright told you so.

mark laughed, lifting a hand up to splash water onto you, “stop being such big baby.”

you groaned as the feeling of saltwater dripping from your hair stuck onto the cool surface of your skin. you rolled your eyes, turning away from mark with a pout. subconsciously, you've been counting the days until mark would embark on his mission—and it's not like you wanted to. you've been avoiding doing so because you knew how much of a crybaby you could get when it comes to goodbyes, and you weren't exactly fond with the idea of crying in a public area. but no matter how hard you tried to think of something funny to renounce the tears pricking from the corners of your eyes, you felt them burn. burn from the upcoming wave of emotions you were trying so hard to bury. and unwillingly—your lips began to quiver.

with your back against him, mark, with his eyes as sharp as ever, could see the subtle shudder of your shoulders and a quiet sniffle he could never miss erupt from your hunched figure. he hurriedly swam his way towards you with a worried expression on his face, the sounds of waves spattering with each step he took. “(y/n)? what’s wrong?“

mark came face to face with you, his eyes growing wide the moment you turned around. the sunset's orange hues gave your hair the perfect glow, your eyes—already going red with tears threatening to spill at any moment, shined alongside your wet cheeks—stained by saltwater, your nose tinted red, and your lips were shaking like a leaf rustling against the wind. you were about to cry. and despite the fact that you were, you looked breathtaking, mark concluded.

“i-“ you stuttered, a teardrop you so desperately tried to keep in, finally fell onto your salty cheeks, “i d-don’t want,” you gasped out with a soft sob and furrowed your eyebrows in frustration. it was so hard to speak right now, you didn't want to look so pathetic on the day before he left, you didn't want to end the day on a bad note. but your aching heart said otherwise. mark felt a tug at his heartstrings as he watched you try your absolute best to talk. and for a moment, he saw you scrunch your nose before breathing out a shaky “i-i don’t want you to go.”

finally, you were able to corroborate a coherent sentence without sputtering over the tears that were streaming down your face like an endless river, your saltwater-tainted hands rubbing against your cheek. mark's face fell to one of relief, he thought it was something worse—he thought he something went wrong. he hurriedly tried to gently pry your hands away before any of it could reach your eyes.

“(y/n),” he cooed, “i’ll be back as soon as i can, promise.” going against what he just attempted to avoid, he held your face in his salty hands and cradled your cheeks with such care and love. amidst your blurry vision, you could make out, although not the best, of the look he had on his face. mark looked at you so tenderly—as if you were to break at any moment with how fragile you are, and it just fueled your wailing as you poured your heart out in his grasp.

while you continued to cry, mark pulled you into his arms. his heat radiating off you like you were hugging the sunset yourself. your hands clawed at his soaked t-shirt—desperate to find the solace you’ll always find within mark as your face nestled in the crook of his neck. he smelled salty, you thought to yourself, as the tears that once racked your body began to dissipate. and as you watched the sun slowly disappear further down the horizon, you felt mark place a kiss on the crown of your head, a gesture you've always loved no matter the situation you’re in. you pulled yourself away, albeit begrudgingly—from his warm embrace to look at him, still sniveling.

looking into his loving eyes, you felt the cool wind enveloped yours and mark's hugging figure, the sound of the breeze blowing against your bare skin. mark opened his lips to speak, inadvertently making you pry your eyes away from his.

“i'll come back home. wait for me, okay?"

@ toshn, pls do not steal or ur cheeks will!! be clapped.

[theemporium]

can i request #6 with john marino please 💜

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I don’t think I have ever felt safer than in your arms.”

.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“This is a great idea.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I swear to god, if you let me fall, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

John couldn’t hold back his snort at that one, his grin spread wide across his face and his eyes crinkling as he stared at you with such a fond expression—despite the fact you were glaring at him like he had unwillingly dragged you out onto the ice.

Though, you would like it to be noted that he coerced you.

He coerced you in the sense that he waited until you were fucked out and half asleep on his chest before he asked if you would join him at the Devils Family Skate.

It should also be noted that you had nothing against going except for one small, tiny, miniscule detail—you couldn’t skate and the idea of even attempting it terrified you.

Which, all things considered, was fucking ironic since you were dating a professional ice hockey player.

“M’not gonna let you fall, baby,” John assured you, giving your hands a soft squeeze. “Just gotta get used to it and then you’ll be skating around in no time.”

You swallowed, your gaze glued to the ice below like you were convinced a black hole was going to appear out of nowhere and drag you in. “Yeah. Sure. No time.”

“Baby,” John murmured, slowly stopping you both. People still skated around you, but John paid them no attention as his hands gripped your elbows to pull you closer. “I promise you nothing is gonna happen. We don’t have to stay on for long, if you don’t want to. Just a few laps for the sake of the cameras and then we can grab some coffee.”

Your eyes softened a little. “No, no, this is important to you and—”

“And you’re important to me,” he added, a small smile on his face. “And the last thing I would want is for you to get hurt.”

“God, that sounds so cheesy,” you murmured with a snort.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” he teased, happy to finally see you starting to relax on the ice.

“Sorry, sorry,” you grinned back at him. “Oh, Johnny, I don’t think I have ever felt safer than in your arms.”

He laughed, his nose scrunching up a little. “Yeah no, that does sound cheesy.”

“A couple more laps and then we’ll see how I’m coping?” You bargained.

“Deal, baby,” he smiled, leaning down to press a quick, sweet kiss on your lips whilst the cameras were preoccupied with other players before he began to start moving again. “I’m telling you, you’re gonna be skating circles around the boys soon.”

“Your delusional belief in me is endearing, Johnny.”

“I do try.”

.

[dramaticallytotal]

If you want, can you expand protective Chris & Chef with alenoah (any au). Hope you have a good one 👍

Definitely! I'll do it for I'm Back in the Game, Except Not Really.

__________

Protective Chris & Chef: IBITGENR Edition

I'm gonna throw some general headcanons in along with the alenoah ones.

• As soon as Noah was eliminated, Chris showed him the room he and Chef put together for the teen on the staff level of the plane since they didn't trust any of the former contestants to not try and get clues or something from Noah now that he's no longer in the game. (Especially Alejandro, Heather, Courtney, and Duncan)

• They make sure he is fed and taking his medication and warm! They can't have their ki- assistant not in peak condition!

• Chef makes him carry a taser, pepper spray, a pocket knife, a cat eye defense keychain, a key that is really a knife, a whistle, a panic button, and a flare gun on him at all times. Noah may have gained muscle and such from his time as Chris's assistant, and his weight is finally getting to a healthy limit but that don't mean he's leaving his boy with nothing to defend himself. (Chef has acknowledged that he sees Noah as a son and is trying to get him husband to realize he also sees the snarky boy as his son).

• Chris is in constant contact with Noah's mom, Abbi. The two got close once Noah became an intern in season one. It was them getting close that made Noah's time as an intern short, and he was quickly promoted to assistant. Not because of favoritism or anything but because, look as much as people like to say Chris doesn't have a heart, he does, and their family situation got to him.

• Noah's mom and dad were in the process of getting a divorce during Island. Noah didn't know until after the show was over since they aren't allowed to contact anyone outside of the competition but Chris had gotten in contact with Abbi to ask her permission to hire her son as an intern. Abbi agreed, and it was during one of their talks where they were hashing out all the details that he heard a fight break out between Abbi and who he learned was Noah's dad Mason.

It was about Noah.

Specifically his conduct on the show. Mason had been ranting how it was Abbi's fault Noah didn't turn out like a "correct" man, and him losing was because she coddled him. Chris unwillingly heard everything and how it came out that Mason was the reason Noah wasn't as close to his sisters as he had once been. Mason had apparently gotten in his head and continuously compared Noah to his sisters in an effort to "motivate" him.

It got to the point that Noah stopped interacting with his sisters. They found this out at the same time Chris and Abbi did as apparently Mason couldn't keep his thoughts to himself and said anything and everything that came to mind. It ended with Abbi calmly saying she wanted a divorce.

The next time they were in talks with each other, Abbi broke down and confessed to Chris that Mason agreed to the divorce, but on the condition, he gets custody of Noah. During this time, Chris had already grown fond of Noah, so he was worried how all of this would affect the boy. So he helped Abbi find a good lawyer.

Mason's lawyer was going to use Noah's medical history and Abbi's work hours as a way to get custody and basically say Noah needed a parent who could take care of him whenever possible and not a parent with one of the busiest schedules as Abbi had always had a big workload. Mason was trying to make it seem like Noah needed care and was unable to do things on his own.

Chris's brilliant plan was to then hire Noah as an assistant instead so Abbi could show the courts he's more than able to work and provide for himself if needed. (Mason isn't the smartest person despite having a PHD. and being a professor.)

• Then Noah found out about the divorce after Island wrapped up, and Action was underway, and Chris got worried as the kid just threw himself into his work.

It took a lot of talks and more heart-to-hearts than Chris liked to get the kid to talk about how he was feeling and go get him to contact his mom and sister. Thankfully, Chef was there, and he was definitely a better listener than his husband.

• Unfortunately, the custody case ended up requiring they go to court, and Noah gave a statement. Chris and Chef were there the entire time, and through it, they found themselves close to the Mudaliar family. Therefore, they feel very protective of Noah after everything. [I might expand on this in a separate post, but this is canon in all my aus. Mason isn't the best nor the worst dad, just a really misguided one and in some aus he does genuinely try to be apart of his kids lives after the divorce but in others he just stops being there. This is one of them.]

_____ (moving on!)

• The first time Chris and Chef see Alejandro try and talk to Noah, they always end up having something for him to do. How weird.

• They are also not a fan of the intern who has been flirting with their boy either! But there's not much they can do there because they are low on interns and aren't allowed to fire anymore.

• Though they definitely distract him with meals (family dinners as Chef would say).

• They make sure Noah wears thermals under his normal clothes and jacket, and hat, and scarf, and gloves, when he was out during the Sweden challenge.

• They also noticed that despite their efforts, Alejandro managed to talk to Noah and even got him to smirk! And chuckle! How dare he after he so ruthlessly voted off their boy! (Nevermind the part where they planned it.)

• When Noah is in charge and directing people in view of the cast, Chris makes sure Alejandro somehow gets water dumped on him or tripped or something because he does not like the look in that boy's eyes as he ogled at Noah.

• Alejandro and Noah were getting closer, and once it was the wedding challenge and Alejandro asked Chris if he could switch Heather for Noah, Chef and Chris nearly threw him off the cliff. Noah had blushed

• Thus, the China challenge happened. It was supposed to be something different, but Chef had recalled how Alejandro had gagged when he ate his Candy Fishtails, so he convinced his husband to do a food competition. Chris was all for it! (No Chef helping Blainley cheat in this au)

The two watched how grossed out Alejandro was for the entire challenge back in their room and laughed maniacally.

• Chris and Chef ban Noah from appearing anywhere near the Rapa Nui challenge, given he's a freaking Disney princess, and the condors would probably mistake him as their chick and kidnap him.

• They somewhat accept Alejandro after the boy protected Noah from the plane explosion since Chris and Chef weren't close enough to do so themselves.

[phoenixcatch7]

Wayne doll house: demon children.

Idea: each of the batkids is theorised to have a different origin.

Thing is, there's so many of them. The oldest is actually the youngest in body. It seems to be able to share memories with those who follow. It changes design right before a new bat appears.

The hero in the town over is definitely one of them, but what's it doing over there?? Asking just gets non-answers.

What happened to the ones that the Joker tried to destroy? One - the oldest and smallest - came back, but different, whereas the other - the purple and orange one - came back for a while and then vanished again for good.

None of them seem to age??

The first, smallest, oldest, it seemed to be some sort of circus performer? It gave its acrobatics to the blue one when it arrived, grew clever and defensive. It gave that to the skull headed red one, focused on technology and detective work after the Incident. Then again, and again, and one time even the bat changed along with it, but though the bat returned to normal the little Robin didn't, and now it's just as stabby and creative as it is small and creepy.

It's a good sort of creepy now, after over a decade of beating up bad guys and comforting victims, Gotham has gotten used to it, but outsiders don't much like it.

The justice league have a different opinion.

They know, or at least can observe, that the... Souls? Brains? Programs? Switch around, that it's not memories but persons that bring the new bats to life.

They just don't know where batman gets them. The new one, especially, is very circumspect.

For all this talk of the blood son, all the bats calling it demon child with varying levels of fondness, the way batman doesn't deny the claims...

Thing is the bat doesn't have blood. Everyone's well aware of this by now. Whatever sulpheric black tar he and the bats leak probably-certainly isn't blood, or at least... Not anything with dna.

So... What blood?? If not the bat's, why does it tie the newest mind of Robin to him?

Captain marvel is the first to think of an idea.

A blood child of a demon for a blood ritual for a demon.

Constantine and Zatanna second the notion - it's perfectly possible. Reasonable, even. The bat admitted himself he had no way to procreate the way humans did, nor any interest in doing so. Wanting a legacy was perfectly normal.

Except he already had, what, seven, eight, nine kids? He loved all of them, it was clear, and he'd always seemed happy with them. He'd even sighed over how many he had, had rebuffed the teasing about getting more. The new Robin mind had been a surprise to everyone, and the old one in a new body had been a little salty about it.

So the new theory was that batman hadn't decided to get a new Robin. Maybe the old mind had been ejected unwillingly! It had happened at roughly the same time batman had gotten a new personality - maybe the incidents were related?

But if batman hadn't done the ritual... Who had?

Who would do something like that???

Cultists. Cultists would do something like that. But giving the bat a son unwillingly seemed... A very odd goal, even for that type.

So... Had they messed up? Had they tried to summon the bat with a blood sacrifice ritual, and summoned a demon instead? Had it partially worked? Was the bat susceptible to demon summonings?? Did the summoning damage his own mind/consciousness/soul in some way, and that led to the creation of the new demon child while the bat changed until he'd healed????

How kind of batman to take it in!

Tldr; the league thinks Robin V is a demon born/created through a failed summoning ritual involving blood sacrifice that made batman like puns until he healed. The truth is the canon events of Damian arriving at the manor only for b to get tossed into the time stream, becoming the Robin to nightwing-batman while Tim, who is much less annoyed about it than canon, focuses on getting him back. Lmao.

[thesilvertheorist]

• headcannons 3 - ethics •

Masterlist

feeding you snacks whilst i prepare dinner (unprofessional fic). i have much more to say on this specific topic so...maybe pt.2 in the future??

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

✦ five's ethics aren't actually as all over the place as they first seem. he's got a strong 'code' that he lives by and this made his time in the commission manageable for him: he'll never get to know to a target, never interact with one - if he can avoid being seen that's the ideal scenario, he'll never allow himself to think of targets as anything other than pesky remainders in an equation. however, he is aware that this train of thought is fucked up and he has been trying to find an alternative for years. seemingly, detachment is the only way he can remain focused.

✦ five never actually wants to kill, and he tries to rationalise his actions with proverbs along the lines of 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few' - but he's never really sure if he believes himself when he says this and wonders if his brain is just trying to protect him from the insurmountable grief of what he's doing, the lives that he is taking.

✦ five subscribes to being as ethical as possible, much like a free range butcher; people need protein, and this free range meat is one of the kindest ways to offer that. in five's mind, the world needs saving, and his small corrections are the kindest way to do that.

✦ he'd ridiculously accountable as well, he never shies away from the things he's done. he accepts the guilt, the trauma, the heinous nightmares and incoherent screams of victim's family members upon hearing the news. he carries it all and uses it to enforce his strict rule of: no needless killing. do what must be done and then back away.

❺ five employs empathy more than others realise. he's not blind, nor unfeeling - quite the opposite in fact. his feelings have been genetically altered but they are still there. he still has his own genetic code regardless of the sludgy morals pumped unwillingly into him. he loves his family, he empathises with others who love their families, he struggles to pull the trigger if children are present. he's not a violent dog, but he knows and accepts how he'd been both raised and programmed to bite.

✦ five ensures that his siblings never lose their moral compasses, he believes theirs are stronger than his, truer, more reliable...less tainted. this is why he's astonished when diego gets roped into the commission - and brags about it. five knows his siblings to be arseholes, but he also knows them to be the kindest people he has ever known, and will ever have the privilege to surround himself with.

✦ five will sacrifice as much as possible to ensure situations are handled with the upmost compassion - especially if his siblings are involved. this is evident when viktor tries to help harlan in the barn. five had a right mind to put a bullet in harlan's skull and leave it at that...but he knew that, in doing that, he'd practically kill viktor in the process - which he would not let happen. especially after all that love the group put into finding viktor and 'fixing' him after he blew up the moon.

✦ in hargreeve's world, five sticks closely to his nieces, allowing good emotions to flow out of him and onto them. he thinks of himself as their protector in a way - handling things he hopes they never learn about. he adores being an uncle, not too fond of children - but so protective of the ones in his family. he knows he'd kill for them, torture for them, die for them. hell he'd throw his moral compass out of a twelfth story window for them, letting it shatter on the ground and injure whoever happened to be below... but they didn't need to know that.

✦ he remembers the good things that people have done for him and likes to repay that in kind whenever he can. he remembers that luther and diego brought his sorry, drunken arse back from the library (and ensured to collect delores) and diego even allowed him to sleep off the alcohol in his bed. he'll never forget waking up there and seeing how they'd looked after him.

✦ five upholds integrity in two differing respects. firstly, he believes that a person should be authentic, and that anything other than this is a lie - hence why he's so accepting of viktor's announcement at hotel oblivion, same goes for when he finds out his siblings had been gaslit over ben's death - insisting they had their memories returned, it's also the same reason why he doesn't get mad at klaus for relapsing, struggles of truth are still virtuous. authenticity must be upheld at all times, anything else is immoral and unjust. secondly, he believes that this profound integrity of individuals increases the strength integrity of the group; honesty breeds acceptance and keeps people together.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Three

Fenrys x F!Reader

Summary- The trip across the sea is long and boring, Fenrys and Y/n find themselves trying to pass the time.

Warnings- angsty towards the end

Series Masterlist

Part Three

The days of their journey started to blend together, nearly a week had passed, it felt like an eternity to Y/n. She discovered early on that she wasn’t a fan of the swaying floors below her, nor the crashing waves outside. Fenrys had teased her without end the first night after they’d set sail.

“Can’t sleep, kitten?” She’d been sitting miserably on her bunk, staring out the small window, “Afraid of a little water?”

“I’m not fond of it, no.”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to get your fur wet.” His grin had nearly sent her hissing, if only her stomach wasn’t rolling with the waves beneath her. “If you can’t sleep you could always come curl up next to me.”

She’d actually hissed then, “In your dreams, pup.”

She’d continued to stare at the vast ocean beyond her window that whole night, even as Fenrys started to snore on the other side of the room. Each crash and swell had her heart leaping in her chest until she was so exhausted that her eyes closed involuntarily. Only an hour later, she’d woken with the dawn, finding a well rested Fenrys, dressed and ready for the day.

The human crew gave them a wide berth wherever they went, vehemently refusing the help Fenrys had offered each day. Being without a task set the male pacing, like he needed to be doing something with himself, as if being idle was to much to bear.

So he’d found a space on the deck where he could train, day after day, drill after drill. It usually started with a strange set of warmups, some she recognized from her brother’s own training, some she’d never seen. Then he’d move to a series of punches and kicks against the air, his invisible opponent fighting back as he ducked and dodged. And it would end with his sword between his hands, Y/n always found this to be the most intriguing part.

Vaughan had taught her to weild a sword, and it always seemed brutish and technical. The way Fenrys fought with the weapon, seemed more fluid, more graceful, and somehow even more powerful. Like a dance that ended with death, like a song only he could hear was singing through his muscles and into the very tip of the blade.

She found herself watching him, closer and closer each day, until she sat directly beside his training ring. He continued through his drills, as if she didn’t exist, as if her eyes weren’t bearing down on him.

The days at sea were warm, growing warmer and warmer as they neared the southern shores, leaving winter far behind. Y/n could see the sweat on his brow, another female might have swooned when the male reached for the hem of his white shirt, already soaked with sweat.

She didn’t swoon, not even as he ripped the fabric over his head, tossing it out of the ring. Y/n didn’t swoon, but she wouldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t quietly admire.

Fenrys wasn’t as bulky as her brother, yet none could claim he wasn’t as strong. Made up of lean hard muscle beneath bronze skin, the golden shade darkening with the days spent in the sun. Right over his heart was a tattoo, the black ink spelling out a name she couldn’t quite read, not from afar.

“Like what you see, kitten?”

His voice startled her, just enough for her eyes to flare wide, leaping from his chest to his onyx eyes. They were full of amusement, she knew instantly that she would never live this moment down.

“Not much to see,” she says, forcing down her embarrassment.

He held his hand over his heart, right where she’d been staring, “You wound me.”

“Fragile male egos are easily bruised.”

Fenrys throws his head back and laughs, Y/n finds the corners of her mouth unwillingly twitching upwards into a small smile.

“Are you going to sit there and stare at me all day?” Fenrys asks, his lips still grinning, “Or would you care to join me.”

“I didn’t bring my sword,” she says, climbing to her feet.

Fenrys only nodded to his pile of stuff, several daggers and a smaller sword, closer to the size of her own. It was an unremarkable thing, the hilt well worn, nicks and scratches all over it, but the blade was well loved, sharp and shining.

Y/n tested its weight in her hand, much better balance than hers, better steel, better strength.

“Please tell me Vaughan taught you at least the basics,” Fenrys laughed, “I fear swordplay is much more difficult than starting a fire.”

She glowered, “I can handle a sword just fine.”

He only grinned, raising his own weapon, a fighting stance she recognized all to well. She remembered her brother’s, how she’d always copied him, how she’d always lost. It never felt right, felt like her body was completely wrong.

So many days watching him, Y/n was able to copy Fenrys’s stance near perfectly, and it didn’t feel so wrong, it didn’t feel right either, to wide, to open, to-

“To stiff,” Fenrys finished her thought, “You look like a statue.”

Y/n tried to relax, “What do you mean?”

Fenrys sighed, dropping his pose, “You’re using muscles you don’t even need to, you limit your own range by doing that.”

She dropped her stance, glaring at him, “I’m just standing here.”

Fenrys rolled his eyes, “Get in your stance again, hold it.”

She was half tempted to tell him to shove his sword up his ass and walk away, but there was a curious little voice in her head, begging to learn what he had to teach her, the same one she’d heard the night in the woods. So she raised her sword, copying his stance perfectly.

“Well at least those hours spent watching me paid off,” he chuckles, circling around her like a vulture, “It’s a perfect stance, for someone a foot taller and much stronger than you. Oh don’t bite my head off, kitten.”

She didn’t say anything, but her glare had Fenrys grinning from ear to ear. He took a step closer, his eyes sweeping across her body in a way that had her blood boiling in her veins, she imagined smacking the flat side of the blade against his head.

“May I?” He gestured towards her hands with his own.

She nodded only once, and all of a sudden his hands were on her. Lightly touching her wrist, pushing down until her arms were closer to her body, trailing up her arms, making her bend her elbows a bit more. Even with the small adjustments, she felt more comfortable, felt like the blade wasn’t controlling her, she was controlling it.

“Relax your shoulders,” Fenrys commands, that hand trailing up, poking the tense muscles in question, “You’re strength comes from speed, you won’t be able to do that if you can hardly move these.”

There was an awareness of him as he circled behind her, that hand still resting on her, finding the spot in the center of her back. Y/n couldn’t help it, the way her muscles tensed back up at his touch, her spine going ramrod straight. She could feel the warmth of him through the soft fabric of her shirt, to thin of a barrier between them.

“Relax,” Fenrys laughed, that hand finally leaving her body, “You were doing so good.”

“Sorry,” Y/n said quietly.

“No need to apologize, kitten.”

She glared over her shoulder, only to find Fenrys watching her again, eyes trailing down her body. There was no heat in his gaze, only indifferent examination.

“Don’t plant your weight so much,” he says, his eyes crawling back up to her face, “You’re light on your feet, use that to your advantage.”

His eyes dropped again, and this time the attention made Y/n want to squirm as he continued to slowly circle around her. They ghosted over her midsection, still with that cold calculation.

“Good,” he nods once, and his damned hand reaches out like it has a mind of its own, resting gently on her abdomen, “Use your core to power your strikes. This is where you should hold your tension.”

Y/n takes a deep breath to steady herself, the motion pushing herself into the hand that simply rested on her stomach. Fenrys seemed to notice then, quickly dropping his hand back to his side. He takes several, to casual step away from her

He smiles, “You’re a natural, kitten.”

Fenrys worked her for several long hours, teaching her different moves and techniques. He recognized Vaughan in her movements, the male was always so precise, so forward, which was understandable, he was a large male, one who’d served time as a grunt soldier, all he knew was brute strength.

Y/n on the other hand, would do well with the assassins of the red desert. Graceful like a dancer, powerful and balanced, Aelin would have a field day training the female.

She was a quick study, it wasn’t long till they were truly sparring, till she was more than keeping up with him. Y/n kept him on his toes, she was fast, more than once she’d caught him off guard. Fenrys could only grin and keep up, it felt good to have a challenge.

By the end of the day, both of them were well spent, Fenrys noted the way her dark green shirt clung to her sweat soaked body, to the spot his hand had rested on her stomach.

He’d been able to push the feeling out of his mind after the moment itself, the way she felt beneath his palm, but now, without the sword to distract him, he could almost feel the trembling breath she’d taken.

She takes several of those long, deep breaths now, her chest rising and falling heavily, Fenrys tries to focus on anything else. He turns towards his things, searching for his shirt among the piles of knives. He’d thought he’d thrown it the way, to be honest with himself he’d been to busy watching the female out of the corner of his eye to see where it had landed.

The cat had watched him for days, inching closer and closer until today, where she’d sat right at the edge of his self imposed training ring. Her eyes much like they’d been in the village, in his dreams, staring straight through him, like she saw everything.

He’d felt her gaze through each of his drills, had peaked at her whenever he could, only finding that intense calculating look. He’d taken his shirt off, half because it was hot and he felt like the fabric was suffocating him, half because he wanted to see what she would do, if that look would change. It didn’t, she examined him like she always did, like she saw through the tattoo of Gavriel’s name, past his chest and into the scarred heart beneath.

Something smacks the back of his head, the soft object unthreatening as he grabbed the cloth, his shirt. He turned, finding Y/n smiling innocently at him.

“Thanks for that,” Fenrys laughs, he found it was easy to laugh around her.

“No thanks necessary,” she shrugs, “I got sick of watching you parade yourself around.”

“How kind of you.” Fenrys couldn’t help the grin, tugging the material over his head, “And here I thought you liked watching me, kitten.”

“Hardly,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

The motion brought his attention right back to where he’d tried to avoid, the dark fabric, the curves beneath. He quickly turned away, gathering his daggers.

“Good job today,” he said, his tone light and friendly, another mask to hide behind, “You really are a natural.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice closer than it’d been, “You’re a good teacher.”

Fenrys looked back at her, finding her standing an arms length away, the hilt of his sword held out towards him.

His eyes carefully travel across the blade, up her arm, catching her piercing gaze, “Keep it, it suits you.”

“No, I’ve got-“

“It’s yours, kitten,” he smiles, “don’t fight me on this one, please? Just keep it.”

She stares down at the sword, her eyes, as always, unreadable. Fenrys couldn’t tell if she was going to accept the gift or throw it down at his feet and walk away. He hoped she’d take it, for some reason he wanted her to have it, needed her to have it.

“I’ve never,” she says quietly, cutting herself off, “I- Thank you, Fenrys.”

He smiled brightly, “Of course, kitten.”

She didn’t snarl or hiss at him like he expected, instead she looked up at him and smiled. Her eyes shine in the dying sunlight, and for once he can actually see past them, he can see the genuine joy in them, but there, just past the surface, was something sad.

Fenrys didn’t understand why she’d be sad, what could cause it, and he found himself feeling curious, wanting to ask her, wanting to know her.

“I’m going to wash up before dinner,” she says, smiling down at that sword, “Same time tomorrow?”

“Bright and early, kitten,” Fenrys grins, “We’ll see how you fare hand to hand.”

That sad look disappears into something that reminds him of Aelin, that mischievous little fire that promises to burn if one gets to close. Fenrys finds that he wants to get closer, if only to see how much heat he can handle.

“We’ll see how you fare against me, pup.”

He laughs, leaning towards her, towards that flame, “Oh? Someone seems a little over confident.”

The subtle change in her expression, if he wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have seen it. The way her eyes flit over him, so quick he almost missed it. Maybe she hadn’t just been examining his technique earlier, maybe she’d been appreciating the view.

He’d only missed it because she wore a mask so solid it was near impossible to see past, unless he got close enough to peer around the edges.

“We’ll see,” she repeats, turning on her heal to walk away from him.

Fenrys watched her as she left, graceful as ever. He didn’t miss the way the crew parted around her, yet still watched as she passed, as if they couldn’t help but be drawn to the beauty. He supposed he was exactly like them, helplessly staring at the spot she’d last been, as if it’d bring her back.

Onyx eyes, his own eyes, watch him, filled with hate.

“You brought this upon yourself.”

The sentence rang through his head like the echo of a bell, his ears hurt, his head hurts, it all hurts.

Those eyes stepped closer, a shining silver blade raised above them, poised to strike. He growled, the blade sang through the air, and he could only scream as those eyes went blank, as the blood pooled between them, as violet eyes stood behind Connall, and bathed in his blood.

It felt like that blade was stuck in his own chest, he couldn’t even scream, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He had to tear his gaze away from those violet eyes full of hunger, he knew what came next, he always knew. He’d had this nightmare hundreds of times in the past several months, he knew it like the back of his hand.

He looked down at his brother, only to find he was gone, and laying there, with a dagger in her chest, was Y/n. Her eyes, dull and lifeless, gone was the keen calculation, the humor, her mouth open in a silent scream, pleading for her life, pleading for him.

Maeve knelt down in the pool of Y/n’s blood, her hand gently petting her blood soaked hair. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t lunge and rip the queen’s throat out, he could only watch as Maeve ripped that dagger from Y/n’s chest.

She pointed that blade at him a smirk on her painted lips, “You brought this upon yourself.”

Below her, Y/n gasped, surging forward only to be held down by the queen. Tears tracked down her face, and she was sobbing his name over and over and over.

“Fenrys please,” she sobbed, “Fenrys help me, please!”

“Such a pretty little thing,” Maeve smiled, “Pitty she got caught up with the likes of you.”

And Maeve brought that blade down, directly into Y/n’s still bleeding heart.

Fenrys could only bite back the scream as he shot up in his bunk. His chest heaving for breath, panting through clenched teeth. He searched frantically, hands reaching for the female who was no longer there in front of him, bleeding out because of him.

Fenrys searched the room, the moon shines brightly through the small window across the room, shining down on her sleeping face. Y/n slept peacefully, curled into a small ball, that unnatural fae stillness lingering even in sleep, if he couldn’t see the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, he’d think she was truly dead.

He counted each of her breaths, mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of his dream.

In the months since his twin’s death, it hadn’t changed. Every single time, he sat helpless as he watched Connall drive that blade into his own heart, watched Maeve bathe in his blood. It always ended the same, he’d look down at his brother, only to see himself laying there, dagger in his chest, bleeding out on the floor, helplessly watching as Connall was forced to service the queen right there, kneeling in his own blood.

The dream had never changed, until now, until her. This female that he barely knew, and yet his heart was still pounding in his chest from the sheer terror of losing her. He wanted to check her pulse, to feel it beneath his fingertips so he knew for certain she was alright. He wanted to be closer to her.

And that was somehow more terrifying than the dream itself.

Tag List-

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 , @mgchaser , @anxious-study ,

[cheezbites]

Dating Ghost

✎: I wrote this very late at night (4:38 am) or very early in the morning - when I was motivated by the sheer amount of notifications from my inbox, ty all sm for the love and support💕!!

♡Summary: Head cannons of dating Ghost <3

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Bf!Ghost has always been a black tea person, either he drank it alongside his breakfast or to calm him down on a rainy day. You were a coffee girl, you would go all out making them - milk, hazelnut syrups, whipped creams… You name it. And from this, another one of your childish inside jokes was born. You were conveniently in the kitchen at the same time as him, making your morning beverages.

“Hm,” you silently thought to yourself, contemplating if your idea was rational enough to act through with.

“Hmmmmm,” he jokingly imitated you, wondering what was on your mind.

You got a separate cup and mixed some of his tea with your coffee. You took the first sip and scorned your face at the unfamiliar yet vaguely distinguishable taste.

Soon he followed, not seeming to be too fond of it at first yet still drinking every last bit.

“Not too bad,” he silently muttered.

And every time you guys were in the kitchen making your daily beverages, the ‘CoTea’ (Coffee and Tea) inside joke was repeatedly brought up.

Bf!Ghost heard a sudden shriek from your bedroom, causing his heart to sink. His thoughts raced faster than the speed of how fast he was approaching your room, desperate to know what it was. What if it was an invader? He wouldn’t be able to live knowing that he wasn’t fast enough to save you from a serious threat, he’d hate himself and feel guilty every single day.

His breathing pattern returned to normal as he sighed in relief when he realised that it was just a spider on your bedroom wall.

“Shit,”

“It’s going to kill me!” You sputtered inattentively as you backed away as far as possible from the ‘murderous pest.’

He stacked a mount of tissues in his hand and effortlessly scooped it up, crushed it into remains of spider limbs and a brown fluid before tossing it in the bin. Shooting you a look that you swore said: ‘Seriously? All that commotion over that?”

“My saviour,” you quipped as you ran up to him and braced him in a tight hug.

Bf!Ghost was used to receiving the “Your eyelashes are so long!” ‘compliment’ from people, mainly from you. It always confused him as to why you pointed it out - maybe it was just a ‘girl thing’ he didn’t understand.

Bf!Ghost was sleep-deprived, sick and unwillingly glued to his bed after days of working, so you took care of him. (At night, when he was complaining about being too cold, you snuggled up next to him and fell asleep in his arms. Maybe he was faking it as an excuse to cuddle you, maybe…) You knew he had an energy drink addiction and some bad eating habits. Since quality meals require time, you poured that time into cooking for him. His gratitude toward you was beyond words, appreciating the care and effort you put into taking care of him. Your cooking not only filled his stomach but also warmed his heart, making every bite a taste of your love.

Bf!Ghost worked out often; so did you. You enjoyed each other's company at the gym, immersing yourselves in the shared playlist and the post-workout rush. His concern for you couldn't be contained. During some weekly sessions, he taught you self-defence techniques, a thoughtful gesture for times he couldn't be by your side.

Bf!Ghost loved making you say ‘please’, even after the smallest of favours. You tried to open your water bottle, but the lid seemed super glued on, you tried repeatedly but your attempts were in vain. You asked him to help you, forgetting one thing:

“Want me to feed you the water as well?” He sarcastically quipped with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh come on babe,”

“And what’s the magic word?” He asked expectedly.

“Please,” you stretched out your ‘please’ jokingly for the sole purpose of teasing him.

He seamlessly removed the lid which astonished you before handing you your water bottle. After all that effort and failed attempts, he made it look so easy.

Bf!Ghost Loathed being away from you; and you felt the exact same way. When he needed to leave or when you were gone, he would try to do things that reminded him of you. When you were teaching him how to cook your signature meals in the kitchen, he was picking up rapidly, improving and learning - soon enough he surpassed you in culinary skills. He remade your recipes to remind himself of you when you weren’t there, and you ‘borrowed’ a few of his hoodies, which were pleasantly engulfed in his scent.

Bf!Ghost Noticed you fell asleep during the horror movie you watched, the last thing he wanted to do was startle you or wake you up. He turned off the TV before heading to your room and placing your favourite blanket over you. He kissed your cheek gently and muttered a silent, “I love you.” Before calling it a night.

Bf!Ghost left wholesome notes for you to discover around the house; the messages were cheesy in the cutest way possible. Either him making you food after a long day of work and leaving it for you in the fridge with a brief note next to it, or a corny compliment stuck on the bathroom mirror for only you to see. It would be something along the lines of:

“Start your day off with a smile love, like the one you never fail to give me♡” (And I feel like this dude would have very messy handwriting, but when writing these notes he tried his best).

Bf!Ghost made most of the decisions in the relationship, you were very indecisive. This is probably the only thing he mildly dislikes about you - you were going through the trials and tribulations of a lifetime over picking between KFC and McDonald’s, you were persistent about what to order too, so he recommended stuff to you or sometimes ordered for you.

(I just know if you both got drinks, he specifically requested only one straw so you guys could share it).

Bf!Ghost was the “‘Scuse me, she asked for no pickles,” boyfriend, who would secure you a refund and a newly made burger, (mainly due to how intimating he gets at times).

You thoroughly enjoyed him looking out for you, though, knowing that he cared that much about you made your heart flutter only from thinking about it.

PART TWO IS OUT!!! <3

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König Version

Price Version

Gaz Version

Soap Version

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Masterlist

[thegeminisage]

lucanis/rook good. lucanis/neve good. lucanis/davrin DEFINITELY good. but i think we are sleeping on lucanis/harding. here's a link to some of their banter, though i'm not sure it's everything in the game.

harding starts the game casually threatening lucanis (like davrin) with her very fancy demon-killing arrow. and yet, aside from the one line where he points out that she only has the ONE arrow, instead of getting bitchy with her the way he does with davrin, lucanis seems to respect her bravery. he notes in another cutscene (i'll get to it later) that her being so small physically might have made it easier for other people to intimidate her when she was young, so it's possibly he was making incorrect assumptions about her based on her size and easy-going nature, and is surprised to find she's made out of pretty tough stuff after all, despite of those things

she then throws him totally off-guard by assuring him she isn't brave at all, but terrified of him (or spite), and she knows that if he does lose control, it won't even be his fault - but she'll put him down no matter how scared she is. lucanis's reaction to this is to first try to laugh it off as brutal honesty, and then grow sober and TELL HER TO KEEP HER BOW CLOSE? one little shred of sympathy and kindness totally obliterated whatever combative sarcasm he was gearing up to give her with that "only one arrow" business.

later, lucanis urges her to watch their enemies rather than him - he's genuinely concerned that she's so scared of him and distracted by him she's going to get herself hurt.

lucanis, who canonically doesn't sleep and gets lots of bad dreams, talks through all of harding's dreams with her - from the silly and mundane to the genuinely terrifying - and goes out of his way to buy her spearmint to help with her nightmares. like he cares SO MUCH

after weisshaupt (on my playthrough, anyway) we learn that harding has since GIVEN her demon-killing arrow to him to prove to him she trusts him, and he wants to give it back to prove that he trusts her. it's genuinely very sweet

also after weisshaupt, harding comforts lucanis and tries to get him to stop torturing himself over his missed shot at ghilan'nain. she's not alone in doing this, but it's still good

COFFEE SCENE. not only does this scene prove lucanis pays close attention to harding, he looks at her with so much fondness here...and after this scene, their party banter involves her working through what he's pointed out about her. his dialogue implies that she shouldn't change to appease other people - because he cares about her well-being AND because he thinks she's great just the way she is.

NOT ONLY THAT, but harding realizes lucanis's evaluation was so keen because he himself is a little bit of a people-pleaser - and with that observation, once again manages to catch him off-guard. she surprises him throughout their relationship

one of my favorite bits with them is comparing notes on their various magical situations. both of them are firmly non-mages who have been unwillingly saddled with magical or magic-adjacent abilities. lucanis is the first to figure out why constantly using magic always makes her hungry (from experience) and he can also relate to being completely freaked out the first time her magical abilities manifested.

near the end of the game, lucanis admits that harding's reputation with the bow is more than earned, and even expresses interest in working with her in the future, after the war against the gods has ended, for an absurd amount of coin. i've seen people point to this banter as proof that lucanis doesn't know the value of money ("it's a banana, michael, how much could it cost? ten dollars?"), but he does his own shopping - he absolutely does know the value of money, he just ALSO places a high value on harding's skills and trustworthiness. i would dare to venture he is smitten!

also, this. OWWW MY HEART

[dragon age masterpost]

[finniestoncrane]

I have to ask 😔

Which of the Riddlers do you think would be into musk? OR OR how would they feel about their partner being into it????? Whatever works

Riddler Headcanons okey dokey hello i am the partner who would be snffing them all day like i was on a binge at a yankee candle shop lmaoooo this is just general musk, like any naturally occurring body smells, because i consider musk to encompass it all and not just balls u-u 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: musk, scent kink, bodily fluids, piss but only briefly in arkham's section, period blood in dano's section

arkham

he fuckin loves musk. it's his favourite thing ever. smells in general just do it for him

like climbing the walls, desperate to inhale your pheromones, and it's far better if that goes both ways

he couldn't even narrow down his favourite smell, although obviously he'd choose bodily odours over anything else

would absolutely bottle up the scent of his partners pussy or dick or balls and huff it while he jerked off

he's burying his face between your ass cheeks and taking in a BIG deep breath whenever the opportunity presents itself

he enjoys the tangy scent of blood on skin (which is having a distinctly uncomfortable effect on his run-ins with batman...)

hell, he'll even force you to hold your piss in for way longer than you should just so you have a little accident and he can sniff that

and one thing he's particularly fond of is sweat, and how it smells different under your arms, on your neck, on your back

100% is likely to lay in bed after sex just enjoying the scent of cum and slick and arousal that lingers in the air once it's all over

dano

down on his knees begging for you to let him sniff you, let him taste you, please just let your body linger on his somehow

it's very much about the intimacy with him, so he would enjoy it more if he was sniffing you while you were sniffing him back

like two little puppies getting to know each other in a little mutually beneficial ritual

it makes him feel wanted, desired, and most importantly it makes him feel like he's known

especially when you start to smell him when you don't know he's there, sniffing the air for the familiar scent hidden in the shadows

when he finds you sleeping with his old, dirty clothes, holding them to you when you're in bed

his favourite smell, though, is definitely blood, and particularly yours (as long as you're not hurt unwillingly!)

and if you're someone who has periods, you'll find he can sense it on you before you even have symptoms like a bloodhound

it's so violent and carnal and natural but a little bit sinful and taboo, so it's perfect for him!!

twojar

it's not even so much a kink for this guy, more that it's something he needs

a partner's scent is never something he would turn his nose up at (i am so sorry lmao)

he enjoys someone's natural musk, the scent that just somehow exists on their skin

permeating from them like a part of their personality, as important as a smile or their voice

i mean, he is a big believer in pheromones etc. and that's part of the reason that he has so much cleavage on display usually

it lets any potential partners smell him better, makes him like a magnet for the people who vibe best with what he's got

and while he's not necessarily into any specific smells that he could really name off the top of his head

he does really enjoy the smell of sweat when he's fucking you, your bodies becoming one

and how the smell of your body amplifies the taste when he's kissing you or licking you or biting you or eating you

young justice

comfort, sexual, romantic, platonic, when he's happy or when he's sad, he is literally llooking for one thing

and that is to bury his face into his favourite person, their body, their hair, their chest, their neck

and then inhale like it's literally the source of his life, more important than oxygen

and you just know he's getting immediately hard and exhaling with a pathetic little whimper

it's not something he's though of all that much about in terms of kinks, but it is very romantic to him

to experience someone so close he can smell them, and to feel like someone wants to get that close to him in return

definitely can bring him to tears to have your smell close to him though, like when you've been sleeping in his bed

or when you've borrowed his jacket, and he can smell you on them once you're gone, so it's like you didn't really leavve

and he'd be so happy to have a partner who was into musk sexually, someone who would sniff his hair or his pits or his balls

just someone who would appreciate him completely and wholly, which is like, his biggest kink lmao

telltale

he likes the smell of sex, it's like a personal perfume that reminds him of a partner

it's not anything he goes wild for, but it's something he'd notice the longer he was with someone

that he can remember them by smell, can tell when they've walked into a room by the way he can sense them

the way just thinking about the musk of you both, sweating and rutting, can get him very excited

AND as someone with an ample ego (and a little bit of an inferiority complex going on underneath it all)

he does like to look and seem his best at all times, like can we say super stylish hoodie peepaw?

so if he's ever over-exerted himself and feels kind of sweaty, he'd appreciate a partner that still finds him alluring and irresistible

and despite feeling like you should be begging for him, he'd use scents to attract you or to please you, to get your attention

he'd start wearing fragrances that he knows you're more likely to lean in for another whiff of just to get you close to him

zero year

he hates his partner to smell like anything other than fresh powdered sugar strawberry donuts or strawberries

definitely a believer that pussies shouldn't smell or taste like anything beyond peaches

because he's an asshole who thinks his partners should be subserviant and perfect, they have to be good enough for him

he, however, is welcome to be as stinky as he wants because he's a hypocritical douchebag

something about how it's macho to smell like sweat, something else about chemicals and the laws of attraction

and more than likely some other bullshit he definitely learned from a loser pick-up artist

but when he's finally presented with a body, he's on his knees begging you to let him taste you or smell you

whining or the privilege of experiencing your body raw and natural, in the state it's in at that moment

because he's really just a pathetic little romantic at heart, who could get hard at the smell of his partner's chosen deoderant

and can you really complain about him when you're nuzzling into his sideburns and sniffing his neck?

gotham

he wouldn't have thought that musk or smells would be something he was particularly into

but of course he quickly realised that it's very sexy to get all sweaty and hot with a partner

as a neat and tidy boy, it means he's got an extra fun task afterwards of warding off the sex smell

he doesn't mind someone's natural scent, but he's big on fresh smells, like mint or cucumber or some light citrus

scents that make you delicious, good enough to eat, like a carefully prepared meal

if you're clean, then that gives him something to tarnish, to take your perfect self and dirty it

unfortunately, he can't make you smell perfect to him because his favourite smell is actually formaldehyde

and it would be... uncomfortable for that smell to arouse him. at least he thinks it would be. one side of him wuold argue differently

so unless you're willing to get a little bit freaky at the gcpd morgue then... eucalyptus and lemon zest candle by the bed it is!

btaa

musk at least pertaining to body odours is sort of whatever to him, but he is definitely into scents

it's important to him to smell as wonderful as he looks and feels. it gives a better impression of him, like a signature perfume

he's not at all bothered by a partner who is into musk though, as long as they're not too disappointed by his artificial scent

that magically lingers after a run in with batman where he's getting pummelled and then left in a holding cell for four hours

with a partner, he's definitely keen on a sweet smell so he can give them a sickly little petname

so honey bun, cookie, cinnamon bun, little berry, scents that conjure up those kinds of themes all work!!

he has a penchant for absolutely devouring you, so matching the smell to the taste would give him a kick

btas

he's not particularly into smells or scents or musk in a partner, but it's not something he's necessarily against

if he was pushed for an answer about his favourite smell in reference to a partner, he'd say it was their body, fresh

just out of a shower, not using anything perfumed to wash themselves

a natural scent that he can pick up when he kisses your neck, one that is unmistakably you

one that he thinks of when he misses you, that can give him a little boost when he's gone too many days at work without seeing you

he would enjoy having a partner who was into musk or scents though, the ego boost would be phenomenal

what do you mean, you enjoy him unfiltered and as he comes? of course you do! because he's perfect

i think he'd also be so delighted with the idea of you picking out an aftershave for him

putting that much thought into him would definitely persuade him to wear just the aftershave the next time he's got you alone

unburied

it's difficult for him, because while he would love his partner regardless of how they smelled

musk is just not something he is into in the slightest for so many reasons, mostly related to the trauma of being an arkham iinmate

he's a tidy and smart and well-dressed boy (when he's got access to his own wardrobe and a warm shower)

even when he's hiding from the law in unseemly hotel rooms, he's still dedicated to a daily shower and ironing his shirts

so eing cooped up in arkham with other people and limited shower time was a nightmare

everyone just openly sweating and bleeding and crying and masturbating and stinking

those smells will unfortunately never leave him, so he prefers things to have a mask of artificial delight

i apologise, my fellow grot-lovers, but he permanently smells like sweet vanilla with notes of burning leaves

[notokbutthriving]

addition to the Castor isn't an astral thing

so I was thinking about how the best person to corrupt right now would actually be Castor cus he can see anywhere in the universe and could act as a spy amongst the astrals.

Then I realized why the hell isn't Castor just telling the astrals where the negative star beings are?! Technically he could find every one of them and boom jobs done!

Castor is not particularly fond of the other astrals, nor are they of him, but even so he still does his job! So why leave such an obvious oversight?

Well, there's a possibility that Castor is already working with the negative entities, the astrals are working with at least Cetus to gain more control, or everything is a lie and the astrals are just some random group lying and manipulating everyone so they can rule the universe.

Kinda just spitballing with the last one there but if Castor were to be working with the negative entities it would certainly explain every instance of Castor never noticing anything wrong until it's too late. [Rez talking to Lunar at any point, the beast attacking Lunar, Dazzle, and Jack, Rez talking to Earth, the corrupted rats in the shipping area, Rez corrupting Razzle, Rez reviving the creator, Lunar using dark star power at any point, Lunar getting broken out of jail, being unable to find Lunar after he was left in Russia, couldn't stop Lunar from killing Eclipse, literally not 'knowing' Rez existed] so Castor doesn't have the best track record with effectively using his powers, but it almost makes sense if he was purposely turning a blind eye. Additionally, Castor has very clearly stated dislike towards the other astrals, blatant distrust towards Taurus, heavy apprehension towards Libra, and an almost stilted way of talking to his sister [this also covers why he can be mean to Nebula, especially at first, due to a need for control] which would explain possible motivations for working with the negative astrals, as well as why he seems more effected by emotions. But that does leave him a hypocrite towards Lunar.

Unless he's scared Lunar will follow his footsteps.

Castor mentioned that Rez lies, manipulates the narrative, but how would he know that? Officially, Gemini has only met Rez once, but Castor seemed to know more than he should. So it would make sense if they'd met before, and if we consider that Castor might be working with Rez, however unwillingly, it'd make sense.

Were the astrals to work with cetus and the others then there's a possibility it's all an act, the negative and positive astrals are two different sides but they're still the same coin, so it could make sense that they were actually working together [the kinda vibe being if we save people they'll like us so let's get the people in trouble so we can 'save' them] this does leave their motivations. Cause as it is, there doesn't seem to be any reason why they'd do this, let alone keep up the ruse this long.

Unless the astrals aren't even what they say they are. Unless they're not actually great beings that are made of the very lifeblood of the universe but just an alien civilization seeking power. But even then, that is a very weak motivation and leaves plenty of iffy-ness with their legitimacy and plot relevance.

Of everything listed the above the most probable appears to be that Castor either willingly works with the negative astrals or was coerced into doing so.

That, or, and this was originally a silly idea I had that was completely unsupported by both tsbs and myth, Castor could be Cetus's son.

[Aliteration go crazy]

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Roy

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The cool guy, the main muscle, the roughest-n'-toughest member of Bowser's army! Get a load a' them shades.

Left-handed.

Owns at least fifty pairs of those sunglasses of his. They are also pretty much indestructible, thanks to a certain brother inventor.

A root beer fan! Root beer floats are one of his favorite desserts and guilty pleasures.

His "tough guy" persona is mostly for show, but he really does love his siblings. This does not exempt them from noogies and teasing.

Regularly works out, and is happy to have a gym partner in Lemmy. Granted, Lemmy leans more towards acrobatics than athletics, but he likes sharing the space with him.

Likes watching professional wrestling with Morton in his free time. Also likes to wrestle with Morton. And his other siblings. And anyone willing. And anyone unwillingly, really.

Dyslexic. He'd probably like reading a little more if it was easier for him, but his dislike of "nerdy books" helps with his whole tough guy image. He's a better audio + tactile learner, anyway. Ludwig’s been trying to get him into audiobooks with varying rates of success.

He wanted to own a monster truck SO BAD as a kid. Getting to participate for the first time in the kart tournaments was the best day of his life, and one of the most terrifying for everyone else.

Has a pretty balanced diet due to working out a lot, probably compared to most of his siblings, but he'll never turn down a nice rack of ribs, especially BBQ. Slow cooked and so tender it falls off the bone? Roy would kill a man.

No one, other than his siblings, knows his eye color. The story as to why he never removes his glasses changes whenever someone asks.

Knows how to sew, though he doesn't tell people often due to his "cool" persona. He learned it because he wanted to have patches on his jackets, and after pestering Wendy to do it enough times, she taught him.

While Wendy's definitely the more beach-y of the two, he also likes tanning in the sun and surfing on the waves. He prefers hotter temperatures to cold, and while he hates the winter and snow, he loves snowball fighting (especially dumping piles of it on top of his siblings).

Has a high tolerance for spicy things. He chews fire flower seeds when he's stressed, and has a particular fondness for good chili.

Knows his way around a car and its engine, and keeps a collection of vintage magazines of older muscle cars.

He generally doesn't deal with flowers, but he's got a soft spot for hydrangeas and lavender. Reminds him of childhood.

He loves chip snacks, all flavors of them. Ludwig used this to his advantage as a kid and turned him onto apple and banana chips. He keeps a stash hidden for cooldown munchies after a workout.

If he ever learned an instrument, it'd probably be either the bass guitar or a drum set. Larry is trying to lure him into practicing more so they can start a band.

A fan of classic rock music, with some hints of metal. He partially gets this from Bowser; so much so, in fact, that when paired with his knowledge of car maintenance and learning about speakers, ended up spawning Roy's Smooth Sounds.

While he's all for bucking the rules, especially if they're stupid in his eyes or it helps him somehow, he's actually one of the few siblings who thrives on routine. Makes it easier to put his time in 'blocks' and work around them if need be.

He keeps a calendar and in his room for remembering important events, both for the castle and things his siblings have going on. Wendy keeps trying to gift him journals to use, he keeps trying to remember to use them, and ends up forgetting regardless.

Likes watching car showcases and auctions in his free time. Gives him inspiration for customizing his own vehicles, since he and Iggy are banned from collaborating on cars since The Incident™.

While he can do magic with his wand just fine, it's not his preferred fighting method; why waste time studying spells when you can just punch the thing in half the time? He was, however, the second to learn how to transform his wand into a weapon.

Not a big candy person, but his favorites are malt balls and anything with peanut butter. Will also never turn down a nice slice of chocolate cake, especially if Wendy makes it.

Favorite fruits are cantaloupe and mangoes, especially if it's hot out. Avocado is pretty good, too, but he prefers that in dips and spreads, especially if paired with bacon.

What makes him especially dangerous isn't just his strength and his Bill Blaster, but his stamina; his determination to win, along with his ability to keep going in spite of all obstacles or enemies in his path, makes him kinda terrifying to face.

He's a bit of a night owl, which works out well for night school. It also means he gets to affectionately bully any of his siblings who think not sleeping is a good idea.

His favorite school subjects vary. Literature he doesn't do well in because of how subjective and interpretive it is, but he's good at math because of the consistent formulas. He's not too bad at geography, either, and history is interesting in small doses. Shop classes he does very well in, too.

Most likely out of all his siblings to get a tattoo. Probably something across the knuckles or on his upper arm.

He's one of the stricter siblings when it comes to his army, and runs a fairly tight ship, but he's also the kind of higher-up who will take the select few who do well out to a steakhouse to celebrate.

Cannot, for the life of him, stand menial tasks and busywork like sweeping, sorting papers, organizing, etc. He feels like he’ll crawl out of his skin from boredom. It's why he bribes his siblings to do it whenever he can.

He's a fairly good cook, and can follow a recipe with ease, he just doesn't like how long it takes. He leaves that to Larry and Morton.

Knows how to work a grill like nobody's business. You invite him to a cookout and he’ll make you the best burger or hot dog you could ever want.

His favorite sport is wrestling, as well as all forms of boxing. He’ll respect the rules in the ring if there’s something important at stake, but with his siblings? He fights dirty and does not care.

[cherryjuicegf]

"What's that thing you keep saying to Yarpen everytime you meet?"

Jaskier's face, buried into the crook of her neck, surfaces for a moment to look at her questioningly. Yennefer does not grant him a glance back. Only, her hand continues to stroke at his hair absentmindedly as she stares out the window, at the setting autumn sun.

He knows at once, of course. There are few things that torture him in his life, but few as they are, they leave little room for mercy.

He sighs. "Well," he mutters, somehow unwillingly, "it happens to be my full name."

Yennefer's eyebrows raise in amusement, the corners of her lips slightly twitching. He thinks of kissing them, the way he has done and will do, soon, but perhaps not now, for he has settled warmly in her arms and the curious scrunch of her nose is far too endearing from down here.

"Hm. You're a funny little thing..." Her fingers scratch playfully at his head and he feels himself blushing. Then, finally, she looks at him. Daring. "I want to hear it."

His heart drops to his stomach, just a little, and he suspects she feels its absence under her hand because she keeps on staring, waiting. Her eyes glint with unspoken thirst, gentle like that of a little kid discovering a shell buried underground.

A shell, maybe, of an old self. One that he shies away from now, before her. He shakes his head.

"Ah, it's not important." What's gotten into her now to unearth this, of all things? "It's ugly anyway."

Yennefer rolls her eyes, fond, insistent.

"Come, now," she prompts and her voice is oh, so soft that his heart almost crumbles back to its place, just to feel the sound vibrate on her skin. A cunning smile. "Do I not have the right to know my husband's name? I may even use it."

At once, he laughs. Silent, surrenderring, certain there is no escape and it's so unfair and so, so sweet, the way she forces his own hand to dig inside his chest.

His face returns to its hiding place into her neck.

"Julian," he says, a bitter taste. "Julian Alfred Pankratz."

She hums, satisfied. Now that she's seen it, the relic, she averts her eyes.

"Why use it, then?"

Jaskier muffles a chuckle against her skin, trapped. He considers not answering. But it's not like she will not know anyway. And maybe he has been alone in knowing for too long.

The images of another life flash before his eyes and he winces in distress.

"Perhaps," he swallows, shrugs, "it sounds more imposing." Fraudulent attention, false power, enough to feign importance. Reeking more than royal. He smiles. "At least, I thought so when they called me that. A bit scarier."

He thinks, the name of a flower is not always heavy enough to rock the ears, and this is why he chose it for himself. Only, perhaps other ears are more welcoming to what is heavy to the tongue.

Then, again, it didn't make much of a difference, did it?

Yennefer sighs, brows slightly furrowed as though pensive, working it in her mind. It's almost a relief, the lack of impression it's left on her.

"Julian..." she whispers after a while, not so much calling him by his name as feeling it on her tongue, letting it flood her mouth. His whole body shivers in her arms. Soft, light, like a feather's caress, she feels it, dusts it like she would a rare finding settled between her hands. She squints her eyes, picks apart every sound. "Julian, Julian..."

A lump is suddenly choking his throat, and he can't help but smile, let out a breath that has been weighting on his chest.

"Strange," he breathes, laughs. "It sounds beautiful when you say it. It sounds..."

"Important?" Yennefer smiles faintly and meets his gaze. He smiles back, grateful. Nods. "That's good," she shakes her head, lowers her look just a bit as a thought clouds her eyes. "It's good... to hear your name uttered like it's something precious."

Jaskier parts his lips to say something but forgets it at once. He stays there, still, staring at her face and the way the evening paints her eyes in a deep haze, and makes her look even softer than he could ever have imagined her. Glowing, like a gleaming stone. That's what it is, then.

He grins and sits up to look at her properly, to take her in.

"That's right, Yennefer of Vengerberg," he whispers, slow like a prayer, tender like a poem, and brushes her hair back, finds her eyes.

Then, he holds her face gently in his hands, and she leans into the touch to lay her own name between them in return. And he kisses, at last, the smiling corners of her lips.

"Something precious indeed."

[moltensmusings]

how did zeref create the dragon slayers?? and are natsu and zeref still brothers

As I answer this I want to note: a lot of these ideas are from 2022 and not as fresh in my head, and rewriting the lore of fairy tail has taken a backset to my own personal story so things can get muddy and may change.

First zeref has a parent/child dynamic with the dragon slayers. None of them really know him but he is their creator and has a certain level of fondness for all of them. Natsu he's actually disappointed in. I'll explain in a moment.

Zeref is cursed due to hubris and how he dug into every type of magic no matter how taboo just to learn and gain power in this au. He had a love of learning and a zest for life that ultimately leads to him corrupting the very core of magic causing death and desolation around him.

He's only able to be killed by people blessed by divinity, however out of pettiness as gods can often be, no truly blessed mages have been found since Zeref was cursed.

And by divinely blessed I don't mean magic based in divinity. I mean a child the gods claim as their own. Someone made holy without training for it.

He takes matters into his own hands and crafts children to act as sponges for dragon magic since in this version dragons are children of God's who have taught humans before. Zeref's idea is that maybe this could work in killing him.

Irene would have known him from this point and she's the reason the dragons take in the children at all. But when it comes to Zeref, anyone who assists him is worthy of sharing in his punishment and she's given a similarly horrible one to endure for it.

The thing is he knows for someone to kill him of their own free will he'd need to be hated. He'd need people who are angry and volatile. And natsu being the fire dragon slayer really should've been perfect for that but the dude is just too friendly and happy. Causing zeref to think him the biggest mistake of all.

Again: I really would need to sit down and spend a few hours/days figuring it out and most likely rewatching fairy tail to refamiliarize myself with the finer details but this is the gist. A lot of Zeref meddling in humanity is for the sake of finding his own oblivion. He's in a way killed what magic once was and can't find peace in the world because he corrupts everything. He absorbs things around him to keep himself alive unwillingly. If he doesn't absorb life he starves but exists until something appears that he can take from.

I hope this is good enough for now! Sorry if it's a garbage answer, I'm aware I need to revise and focus on it. Unfortunately my mind goes where it wants and it hasn't settled into lore building in a while.

Thank you for the question!

[goshdangronpa]

Despite being impossible in canon due to how their personalities develop, I'm quite fond of Mikan and Ibuki in a rivals to lovers relationship. Of course, shy Mikan would need to be a little more assertive, and Ibuki would have to be rude for this to work like a proper rivals relationship. I'd love to hear your thoughts, Mrs Gosh Dangronpa.

Thanks for sharing and asking anon! My main thought is that we must ask ourselves: What would compel the shy and self-deprecating Mikan to stand up for herself? What would compel the sweet and chill Ibuki to be less than friendly with someone? I THINK THEY SHOULD BE RIVALS IN LOVE

And I've got two concepts for that

One scenario I've bandied before is that through a series of mishaps, miscommunications, and other contrivances, poor Hajime Hinata finds himself accidentally dating both of them. Don't ask me to write how it happens. Let's just say that the situation is so sticky and stupid that once the girls find out and confront him in his room, he can't even confidently say who he unwillingly started dating first, let alone who gets dibs. Only that he had an inkling of interest in both, and no time to see if that even develops.

Even with that explanation, Ibuki and Mikan are still indignant and ready to fight for their man. They decide they'll settle it between them, and they kick Hajime out of his own room. It could get ugly.

45 minutes later, they step out with ruffled clothes, messy hair, and something awkward to discuss with their soon-to-be mutual ex-boyfriend.

That's typical Hajime for you - an inadvertent third wheel. In my other love triangle idea, the other person is, at first, much more involved in and dominant over the situation ...

Junko Enoshima, I always thought, would have no qualms using promises of love and sex to get what she wants. Sometimes, she'll even keep them - if she's bored, if it'd bring her enough despair, or if she just feels like getting head.

Ibuki and Mikan would continue to be allies in Ultimate Despair, but the friend break-up would be ACRIMONIOUS. Why do you think we don't see them together in DR3? Then the events of SDR2 would see Junko turning them against each other AGAIN, this time with fatal results ...

And what's more fun than playing with people's hearts? Playing them off against each other. Take two good friends and turn them into enemies who'll do anything to spite the other and please her. Mikan's a goner from the jump: a few compliments, a promise to give her the love she's never known, and she's practically at Junko's feet. And Ibuki? I like to think she already admired the gyaru as a fellow iconoclast and fashion inspo. Combine that admiration with an obvious yearning for connection and boom! Another bitch for her kennel. That's two dolls she can manipulate into conflict, amuse herself with for a while, then throw away - or break.

But we've seen that story before, and I like a happy ending for my girls. So let's imagine that they find out that Junko arranges for one final showdown between the former friends. Whoever wants her most will have to win this battle of wills, to which she's got front row seats.

But Ibuki won't do it.

Never mind that Junko's a two-timing fake - Ibuki's forgiven less hot girls for worse. It's Mikan. She's never seen her so fired up about anything, and she's never seen her stand up for herself like that. And Ibuki would rather be lonely again than take that away from the loneliest girl she knows. So she walks away.

But not before turning around and telling Junko that she should get used to horror movies because those are Mikan's favorites. And that Mikan prefers non-elastic bandages above the rest so don't get any others unless she asks. And that she should take Mikan on library dates and beach trips because she feels most comfortable in those places.

For all her observational and analytical sharpness, Junko has one major blind spot: she believes that no one could ever truly love Mikan. A belief that Mikan shares until Ibuki chooses her friend's happiness over her own - in effect, forgiving Mikan (!!) for seizing an opportunity for love at her expense. What she would have with Junko would be more than she's ever had before, more than she ever may have again ...

But she chooses herself. And that means leaving a shocked Junko behind, running to Ibuki, and never letting her go again.

Whew, that last one turned out longer than expected! Long story short, Cuckolded Junko is one of my favorite DR fanfic tropes

[creepy-spooghetti]

I loved your autistic little sister headcanons for cody and toby!

Possibly one for Masky + EJ, an autistic little sister (15/16 years). And level 1/2 asd?

A bit self indulgent 😭 but i loved the headcanons

Aaa, I'm so glad you enjoyed them that much 😭

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Masky

Masky was created as a separate identity from Tim solely to do the Operator's bidding, but he still has to deal with many aspects of Tim's life. You are one of these 'aspects'.

It isn't as if you are a constant pest or anything, and you can certainly fend for yourself under most circumstances, so Masky never really bothered hating you, or even severely disliking you. You were just Tim's sister; nothing more, nothing less. Yet, having to be around you often gradually made him feel something different. Something akin to fondness. Something...protective and foreign.

He grew to care for you, somehow. You innocently, unintentionally wormed your way into his heart over time, strolling right through the gates like you owned the place. And now, he supposed, you did. At least to a degree.

Because he views you as family, you manage to get away with a lot more things than anyone else could ever dream about—most of them are very benign, such as asking questions, or sassing him on occasion, or some type of physical gesture, like leaning against him or messing with his hair or even just flicking him. He would absolutely annihilate anyone else, but he just can't find it within himself to bring you harm.

If a single person ever does anything remotely 'not nice' to you, or even alludes to it, best be certain Masky will have something to say about it. He has this instinctive urge to just...keep you safe, and out of emotional distress, in whatever way he possibly can. He doesn't understand why or how he can love you when he doesn't love anything, but he realized that fighting it does nothing, so he merely succumbs to it.

Eyeless Jack

When Jack was permanently, unwillingly transformed into the creature he is now, he didn't remember much of anything. His life was a blur, his friends were distant recollections, and the only thing he could seem to focus on was the untameable fury coursing through his veins.

But then you showed up in his mind again and he felt all the love and protectiveness he ever possessed for you times ten. Suddenly, you were the sole focus in his thoughts. The only thing that mattered, was you.

Jack is not naturally an aggressive person, but throw in someone who's treated you poorly into the mix? Rest assured they are no longer safe. This man will work so, so hard to protect you, and has on so many occasions. Your presence is the only thing that gives him real, true happiness. He feels like he has a purpose with you around instead of convincing himself he's utter garbage.

You have had to talk him out of many-a breakdowns, however, when he starts worrying for your wellbeing. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt you one day. He's stuck between a rock and a hard place: keep you with him, or toss you to the wolves. He would never do the latter, but sometimes he can't help but wonder if you are truly safe around him. He knows he's capable of horrendous things, things he can't control, and the very idea terrifies him for your sake.

Yet there's no doubt in anyone's mind that he would sacrifice everything, anyone, to make sure you're okay. You are his lifeline, and he is yours, and you'd never have it any other way.