#( mixed with my rbf )

[oozeandgoo-art]

Sketched a very old oc before class.

[somethingexcessivelyphallic]

Hihiii what’s ur karkat voice hc???

KARKALICIOUS 😎

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒻 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝑒𝓃

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: The TKATB men have never met anyone like you—the calmest person they’ve ever encountered. No big deal. Your RBF makes it impossible to get a reaction, and they’re all baffled. 

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

It’s honestly kind of impressive how you can make them work for every ounce of emotion. But they’ll admit—it’s also kind of refreshing. Your calm presence is like a buffer from the madness they’re used to, and they kind of love it… even if they’d never admit it out loud.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

The Savior Who Can’t Save You from Chill

You don’t flinch. Ever.

That’s the first thing Crowe noticed. Not when the fire alarm went off. Not when Brittany tripped and spilled her entire iced mocha down your shirt. Not even when Geo elbowed you in the face while pushing Deryl back from eating his lunch. 

Crowe made Deryl and Geo to at least sorry. You just blinked—slow, tired—and mumbled something like, “It’s fine.” And it bothers him.

Not because you’re rude. You’re not. You’re polite enough. Just… chill. Like emotionally bulletproof. And Crowe? Crowe’s used to people being a little shaky around him—he’s Crowe. 

The prince is used to people reacting to him.

A smile, a blush, a flustered stammer when he offers to carry a book or holds the door. It’s not about ego—at least, he tells himself it’s not. It’s just the natural rhythm of things. Crowe moves with practiced ease, a calm kind of charisma that draws people in without ever asking for it. He doesn’t push, doesn’t brag. He just is—that rare mix of reliable and graceful, a warm presence in a chaotic world.

So when you walk through the door he’s holding open—without so much as a glance, much less a thank-you—he freezes. Literally stands there, hand still on the metal handle, blinking at the spot where you just were like someone paused his internal monologue. You don’t even slow your pace. 

You just keep walking, headphones in, expression unreadable. 

Like he’s the background and not the highlight. 

He tries to brush it off. Maybe you didn’t notice him. Maybe you were late for class. Maybe—No. He watches people. He reads people. And you?

You’re a blank page.

The next morning is crisp—fall air slipping into campus with the kind of bite that turns breath to fog. Crowe finds you sitting on the edge of the outdoor fountain, legs crossed, absorbed in whatever cryptic thing is on your phone. Your sleeves are short, your fingers look cold, and the sunlight’s making your hair glow like it was painted there.

He walks up casually, jacket folded over one arm, pretending he hadn’t planned this down to the exact minute. “Cold?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, tone easy, eyes warm.

You glance at him, then at your own arms. One blink. Then two. “Nope.”

He stands there for a second, stunned by the sheer finality of the answer. No one has ever said no to him—to his kindness, beauty. No awkward fidgeting. No grateful smile. Just… denial and calm. “Right. Yeah. Just, uh…” He shifts on his heels, scratches the back of his neck. “Thought I’d ask.”

You nod and return to your phone, not unkind—just done with the interaction.

He walks away with the jacket still in hand and the gnawing suspicion that you’ve just bested him in a game he didn’t know he was playing.

A few days later, he sees you in the student café. Alone, as usual, tucked into the corner by the window, notebook open, pen tapping a steady rhythm that somehow keeps people away. He buys an extra muffin. Your favorite—your choice, the fancy one with the crumb topping. He knows you like it because he saw you buy it once. 

‘Okay, maybe he noticed what time you usually get it, too. Shut up.’

“Hey,” he says, setting it gently on your table. “Messed up my order. Want it?”

You glance at the muffin. Then at him. Your stare is so flat it makes him briefly forget every word he’s ever known.

“You messed up your order?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. “…No. I—yes. Yes, I did.”

You take it. Say, “Thanks.” No sarcasm, no side-eye. Just… neutral. You don’t smile. You don’t even blink like you’re amused. You just go back to your notes.

He walks away smiling anyway—because you took it. That’s progress, right?

He also dramatically dies inside. Just a little.

Few days afterwards, funny enough, you trip down the library stairs.

Crowe sees it happen across the atrium—he’s halfway to the reference desk when you misstep, the heel of your boot catching on the edge of the marble step. Time slows. Your notebook spirals out of your hands. Your bag swings wildly. A rogue water bottle rolls away like it’s been cast out of the narrative entirely.

You hit the ground in a quiet oof, knees first.

He’s already moving. Books left behind, he jogs to you, panic in his eyes and his brain screaming ‘Finally! Something happened!’ 

“You okay?!” he asks, crouching beside you, one hand hovering near your shoulder like he’s afraid touching you might vaporize him.

You sit up calmly. Smooth down your clothes. Reach for the water bottle without flinching. “Yeah,” you say.

He blinks. “You sure? You kind of went airborne.”

You shrug. “Yup.”

He stares at you, speechless. There’s a faint red mark on your knee and you’re brushing it off like a leaf fell on you. “…Okay,” he finally mutters, watching you stand like nothing happened. Like you hadn’t just face-planted in front of a fully stocked vending machine and half the second-year students.

You walk off with the same quiet grace you always have. 

Crowe stands there a little longer than he should, holding your notebook because you forgot it. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you wanted him to follow.

He hands it back to you in the hallway twenty minutes later. 

You thank him with a slow blink. Nothing more.

That night, he’s flat on his back in bed, one arm over his forehead, staring up at the ceiling like it has the answers he needs.

“What are you?” he whispers, completely serious.

There’s no follow-up. No resolution. Just silence, and the distant sound of a campus raccoon raiding the trash cans below his window. 

He doesn’t know why he cares so much. But he does.

You’re unreadable. Unshakeable. Like a test with no key. A poem with no ending. Everyone else clings to him like a lighthouse, but you? You are the storm. Controlled. Contained. A force all your own.

And the worst part?

He kind of wants to stand in the rain a little longer.

The next day, you're on the quad. Legs crossed in the grass. Back to a tree. Book in hand. One headphone in, the universal signal for do not engage unless you're bleeding out or on fire.

Naturally, Crowe takes this as a personal invitation.

You hear his steps before you see him—those calculated, almost-too-casual footfalls of someone pretending they’re not rehearsing what to say. He halts a few feet away, and for a second, just... looms.

You don’t look up. Yet.

He shoves his hands in pants pockets, scuffs his dress shoes against the grass like a boy with a crush, and clears his throat. “You’re really hard to read, you know that?”

You glance up from the page, face blank. Not annoyed, not curious. Just blank like always. “Thanks.”

His brows knit. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

You nod once, slow and deliberate. “Still sounds like one.”

Crowe’s mouth opens—closes—then opens again like his brain’s buffering. Poor thing. Still booting up. Finally, with all the drama of a Shakespearean side character, he exhales and drops beside you in the grass without being invited. Arms crossed. Shoulders tight. Like sitting near you is some kind of emotional workout. Such dramaticness. You can practically hear the mental soundtrack playing behind those eyes.

“So here’s the thing,” he begins, clearly rehearsed. “I’m usually pretty good with people. Not in, like, a manipulative way—well, okay, sometimes, but only with people who deserve it. Our frined group, mostly. But I get people. I can tell when they’re lying, or stressed, or hiding something.”

You don’t look up from your book, but one eyebrow rises like a drawbridge.

Encouraged, he keeps going. “But you? You’re just... I don’t know. Blank. Stoic. Like a final boss I don’t have the right weapon for. I’ve tried friendliness, food, mild acts of chivalry—”

“Your jacket smelled like blueberry cologne,” you say, suddenly and flatly.

Crowe freezes. “...What?”

You finally look up. Deadpan. “That’s what you offered. When you asked if I was cold. It smelled like you.”

“Oh.” His voice cracks. “You... noticed that?”

You blink. “You’re not exactly subtle. You hovered like a fruit-scented ghost.”

He looks like you shot him through the heart with a Nerf gun laced with pheromones. “I—I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Mhm.” You close your book slowly, deliberately. “It’s sweet. Really.”

Then, almost too casual, you add, “Though I wasn’t sure if smelling like you all day was part of the offer.”

Crowe chokes on absolutely nothing. His ears go pink. “W-what?! I mean—only if you want to smell like me. Not that—I mean—if that’s a bad thing, you don’t have to, obviously, I just—”

You reach over and tap his cheek. Not a slap. Not even a pat. Just... tap. Enough to fluster. Enough to win. He goes still like prey spotting a predator with killer eyeliner and a book collection.

“You’re cute when you malfunction,” you say simply, standing. “Anyway. Class.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, step over his legs like he’s just part of the scenery now, and pause only once, glancing down with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes.

“Oh. And Crowe?”

He blinks up at you, dazed.

“If I ever want your jacket again…” You let the silence draw long. Too long. Then: “...I’ll let you spritz it first.”

And with that, you walk off like you didn’t just fry every circuit in his brain.

Behind you, Crowe is still sitting in the grass, blinking at the space you left behind, probably questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

And for now? That’s enough.

I genuinely had no idea where I was going with Crowe’s part—but it accidentally became hilarious. He was supposed to have you wrapped around his finger, and somehow he ended up being the one simping. Iconic reversal, really.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

The Poor Emo didn’t know what to do with you.

Sol remembers the first time he saw you in art class like it was a dream that never ended. You were already there when he walked in—seated in the back corner, half-hidden by your sketchpad and an expression so unbothered it might’ve been carved from marble.

It was as if you’d always existed in that exact spot, like some cryptid of academia, and he had just stumbled into your domain. His brushes clattered to the floor the second he saw you.

"Cool, cool," he muttered under his breath, "starting strong."

You didn’t even glance up.

He didn’t flinch when he knelt to retrieve his things, and he promptly slammed his forehead into the underside of the table with a loud thunk.

Didn’t blink when he whispered a pained “Ow. I meant to do that.”

And when he finally slid into the empty seat beside you, limbs too long and heart already sprinting, you barely tilted your head.

“...Hey,” he tried, voice cracking. “I’m Sol. Short for Soulmate, probably.”

You gave him a slow blink, as if rebooting.

He laughed nervously. “Kidding. It’s just Sol. Though, I mean—who knows what the future holds, right?”

You said nothing. Instead, you turned a page in your sketchbook with surgical precision and kept drawing. Like he was background noise. Like he was the weird one for assuming the laws of social interaction applied here.

Sol, naturally, took that as encouragement.

He tried to charm you the only way he knew how—through relentless talking and spiraling oversharing. Romantic poets, brushstroke theory, historical anecdotes, the emotional symbolism of color palettes—anything and everything to fill the void.

“So, uh—fun fact—did you know Lord Byron kept a pet bear in college because dogs weren’t allowed?”

You looked up for half a second. “That’s illegal.”

“I know, right? It’s also... kinda iconic.”

You returned to your sketch like nothing happened. He kept going.

“Anyway, I was thinking... blue tones are, like, emotionally repressive, but not in a bad way? Like melancholy chic. Y’know? No? Okay. That’s fine. Totally fine. Normal people definitely rehearse conversations in their heads and still crash them in real time.”

You didn’t laugh. You didn’t scoff. You just nodded once—slowly, deliberately—as if approving a particularly decent worm trying its best to be a butterfly.

Sol nearly combusted.

At first, he thought you hated him. Genuinely. You didn’t play along, didn’t mirror his awkward charm, didn’t even glance at him unless it was absolutely necessary.

But then he noticed. You didn’t leave.

You let him sit there, let him talk, let him trip over every thought and still never pushed him away. It wasn't indifference—it was something else. Something slower. He caught you looking once. Just once. Your gaze flicked over him like a scalpel, sharp and calculating. 

You weren’t ignoring him. You were... assessing him.

And that terrified him. And thrilled him.

Because for someone like Sol—messy, frantic, stitched together with caffeine and nerves—you were gravity. You were the calm his chaos gravitated toward. A steady, unmovable center that refused to be shaken.

Which made you dangerous.

And Sol? Sol loved dangerous.

At first, he thought you hated him. Genuinely. You didn’t laugh at his jokes, didn’t meet his red-orange eyes, didn’t play along with his awkward charm. But you also didn’t leave. And that confused him more than anything.

Because eventually he noticed: your calm wasn't cold. It was steady. You were steady. Unbothered. A lighthouse in the middle of whatever storm he happened to be caught in. And for someone like Sol—messy, frantic, soft-hearted and always bleeding ink—that steadiness became addictive.

It wasn't long before the little things started to gnaw at him, quietly, persistently. The way you never seemed to notice how he always positioned himself near you, how his eyes would linger just a little too long on the curve of your jaw or the delicate way your fingers worked the charcoal. The way you would retreat into your own world, perfectly content in your silence, while his thoughts spun in circles around you.

The worst part? He wanted you to notice him. 

To acknowledge him. To demand more of him than the fragmented attention he gave everyone else. But you never did. And it made him want you more.

He didn’t want to spook you. No, he couldn’t. You were... perfect in your distance. But the more he watched, the more he needed to know what made you tick. What would break that serene surface. The more you ignored him, the more desperate he became to make you see him. To make you need him, even if it was only for a second.

At first, he just followed you.

Secretly, of course. It wasn’t stalking—he told himself. It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t lurking in shadows with binoculars and a notebook (not yet anyway). It was more like… research. Observation. Field study. Like watching a rare animal in the wild—beautiful, elusive, unknowable.

Sol liked the idea that you existed beyond the confines of art class. That you had habits. Routines. Favorite vending machines and preferred park benches. He liked that you always ordered the same thing from the café but never stayed long. That you read with your headphones in but never played music loud enough for anyone to hear. He liked that you existed without explanation.

And when he saw you outside of class, his heart stuttered like a broken metronome. It wasn’t on purpose, not really. You just happened to be there. The bookstore near the station. The flower shop on 9th. The rooftop of the humanities building that was technically off-limits—technically.

If he ended up at the same places too often? Coincidence. If he lingered longer after you left, just to breathe the same air a few more seconds? Sentimentalism. If he started learning your routes by memory and adjusting his own schedule accordingly? Efficiency. Obviously.

It wasn’t stalking if the universe kept putting you in his path, right?

Funny enough, you never confronted him. Never called him out. You just... let it happen. Like the background hum of a streetlight—acknowledged but ignored. He’d sit a few seats behind you on the train. Enter the café ten minutes after you. Browse the same shelves, always three paces behind. Watching you exist in your natural, quiet way, all controlled expressions and slow blinks.

You didn’t hide yourself, but you didn’t invite him either. 

You just… let him orbit. And for a while, that was enough.

Until one day, when you sat at your usual café table, bathed in the golden light of a late afternoon, sipping your overpriced tea and flipping pages like time didn’t exist—you spoke.

Without looking up. Without pausing your reading. 

Just a casual, flat, clinical: “Are you following me?”

Sol’s soul left his body. 

He short-circuited so hard he nearly dropped the biscotti he had dramatically not ordered because you didn’t order food either. Panic. Internal screaming. A brief debate about faking his own death and moving to another continent.

But then—then—you looked at him. Really looked at him.

And it was worse than if you’d glared. Because you weren’t angry. Or surprised. Or even remotely scared. You were just… curious. Calm. Like someone noticing the weather had shifted. Your eyes, unreadable as always, flicked over him like you were mentally cataloging a strange insect that had landed on your table. 

Not threatening. Not interesting. Just there.

He swallowed. Hard.

And Sol smiled. That awkward, nervous sort of grin people wear when they’ve already been caught but want to pretend they haven’t.

“Wh—what? Me? Following? No. Nooo. I mean… maybe. In a very casual, non-criminal way. Like a—like a background character! Like a pigeon! Not a creepy pigeon. A chill pigeon. You know?”

You didn’t even flinch. Just turned the page of your book with a slow, deliberate grace and sipped your tea like he was nothing more than background noise.

“Well,” you said without looking at him, voice as flat and unaffected as ever, “as long as you don’t kidnap me, I don’t care.”

Sol blinked. The world stilled.

You never looked back at him again.

And that—that—was the moment he truly lost it. Fell for you in a way that was all-consuming. Rabid.

You knew. You always knew.

And you let him follow anyway.

The first time you invited Sol over, it wasn’t a declaration—it wasn’t even an event. It was casual. Offhand. “I’ve got some books you might like. Come by. Bring tea.” You didn’t ask. You instructed. And of course, he came. Eager. Polished. Carrying your favorite tea—of course he knew what it was. He knew everything.

You greeted him like he was just another parcel at your door. Unwrapping nothing. Revealing nothing. Your apartment was neat, quiet. Like you. Sparse color. Dim lighting. Shadows where light should be. He liked it. Too much.

He sat on the floor beside your low table, sketchbook on his knee, eyes flicking to you over the edge of his pencil. You read, as always—expression unreadable, fingers trailing over pages as though the words whispered only for you.

He wanted to interrupt it.

He wanted to destroy the calm you wore like armor. Wanted to know if you'd tremble. If you'd crack. If you'd shatter the way he had.  But you didn’t.

You stayed composed. Mute. Unbothered by his fidgeting, his glances, the way his leg bounced and his pupils tracked your every move.

You were halfway through unpacking the books when the buzzer went off.

“Food’s here,” you said, glancing at the intercom, voice devoid of urgency.

Sol looked up from his spot on the floor, sketchbook balanced on his knee. “Want me to get it?”

You shook your head, already moving toward the door. “Nah. Just make the tea, will you? The kettle’s already hot.”

He nodded a little too quickly. “Of course.”

And you were gone.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere shifted. He stood slowly, eyes scanning the room before drifting toward the kitchen.

Your favorite blend sat prepped beside the stove—chamomile and lavender, faintly sweet, soothing. 

The kind of flavor you described once as "a bedtime story in a cup."

He liked that. He remembered everything.

As steam curled from the pot, Sol reached into his coat pocket.

A small pill. Clear. Colorless. Nearly tasteless, from what he’d read. Not dangerous in small doses—just enough to make you drowsy. Vulnerable. Pliable.

He didn’t think you’d notice.

You never really seemed to notice anything when it came to him. And that was the problem. So maybe… maybe that’s when he decided. When the tea had steeped enough, he poured it into two identical tea cups. No patterns, no labels—just plain white porcelain. Clean. Deceptive. He added the drops carefully. Stirred it into your cup. The one he set on the right side of the tray. 

A gentle burn of guilt flickered in his chest. But it was drowned out by something stronger. Desperation. Longing. The unbearable weight of wanting to be seen by you.

Really seen.

By the time you returned, balancing a brown takeout bag and two sets of chopsticks, he was already setting the cups down on the coffee table with practiced ease.

“Perfect timing,” he said, too brightly.

You set the food down without comment and moved to sit across from him again. He handed you the right cup. Your fingers brushed the ceramic. Held it, warm and fragrant in your hands. 

Then your gaze lifted—sharp, steady—and settled on him.

“Can you grab the sugar?” you asked. Calm. Flat. Polite.

His heart skipped. “Yeah. Sure,” he said, standing immediately. Maybe too quickly. Anything for you. Always. He turned his back.

And that was all it took.

With a quiet grace, you reached out. Switched the cups. Left no trace.

By the time Sol returned, humming to himself with the sugar container in hand, your expression hadn’t changed.

You waited until he’d settled in again. Until he reached for his cup. Then, almost imperceptibly, you smiled. Just a fraction. The kind of smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The kind that made people nervous, but never sure why.

Sol didn’t notice. Not yet.

He raised the cup to his lips with a soft, content sigh.

And you watched him drink. Watched the trap close. Quiet. Patient. Pleased.

When Sol stirred, the world was soft edges and slow motion. His body refused to move properly—his muscles limp, joints heavy, vision slightly blurred. The warmth beneath him was too much, like he was wrapped in a blanket of heat and confusion. A strange fog clung to his thoughts. 

Then he noticed it. The weight. The presence.

You were on top of him.

Straddled across his lap, your posture impeccable, knees pressed firmly into the rug on either side of his hips. Hands folded loosely in your lap like you were meditating. Poised. Balanced. At peace.

You weren’t holding him down. You weren’t holding anything.

You didn’t need to.

He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his mind, but you were already watching him. Quiet. Unmoving. Eyes sharp, yet unreadable.

“You tried to drug me,” you said, like someone pointing out a slight crack in the ceiling. No judgment. No emotion. Just fact.

Sol's lips parted. His tongue was thick, uncooperative. “I—I didn’t mean— That is, I just thought—” His words stumbled over each other, messy and frantic, so at odds with the stillness in your gaze.

You tilted your head, studying him. Like a curious observer watching a small, clumsy animal. “Shh,” you said. Calm. Not unkind. “Don’t ruin it with excuses.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat catching like a rock.

You leaned forward just slightly—close enough that your perfume ghosted over his skin. Layered over something far more sinister. “Poor thing,” you murmured, voice so low it barely touched the air. “Didn’t think I’d notice?”

Sol tried again, slower this time. “I just wanted… I didn’t think it would hurt you. I swear—”

“I know,” you said simply. Your fingers brushed over his collar, then his cheek. So gentle it almost felt affectionate. Almost.

“But you still made a choice,” you continued. “So now I’m making mine.”

Your smile came slowly. Soft. Serene. The kind that made his blood turn to static. “I’m just getting my lick back, Sol.”

His breath hitched as your fingertips traced the curve of his jaw, as if testing the edges of what he feared... or maybe craved.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you asked, voice almost dreamy. “To be close. To be vulnerable. To be mine.”

And he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Could only watch as you leaned in again, the world shrinking until it was just you and him and the unbearable calm in your voice.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you whispered, brushing your lips—not against his—but to the shell of his ear. “Otherwise I’d be far less polite about all this.”

You pulled back, still smiling.

Sol didn’t know whether to beg for forgiveness or thank you.

But you just sat there. Composed. In control. Right where you wanted to be. Right where he had wanted you. And he finally understood the difference between possession and surrender.

You weren’t his. But he was already yours.

I’m sorry, I just love bullying Sol like the tragic man he is. Can’t help it~

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Oh my, the archer respected you right away. That alone was rare.

Understand, Geo was used to attention. Unwanted, exhausting, meaningless attention. People asked him out the way someone might bid on a luxury item they didn’t understand—coveting the surface, clueless about the weight beneath it.

Women giggled in hallways, brushing too close. Men winked with performative bravado. Some were subtle, some were bold, but they all had the same shallow hunger in their eyes. Then eveyone else is mixed between.

They liked his face. His body. His money. His aim.

Not one of them knew him.

He despised it. The fakeness of it. The repetition. It was all noise—loud, grating, and hollow. So when Crowe called him over one day between training sessions, saying, “Geo, come meet someone,” he braced for it. Another admirer. Another forced smile. Another waste of time.

You stood beside Crowe, arms loose at your sides, expression unreadable. Calm. Still.

Geo sized you up immediately. Pretty, sure—but too composed. Too… unaffected. You didn’t look impressed. Or nervous. You didn’t even blink when his gaze met yours.  Crowe said your name. You didn’t offer a hand. You just looked at him. Right at him. And held the stare. Then few seconds passed. Then another.

Geo’s jaw flexed, something twitching behind his eye. He tried to decipher your expression, but there was nothing to grab onto. Not curiosity. Not admiration. Not even intimidation. Just silence. And it unnerved him. 

No one ever looked at him like that—not without wanting something.

He scoffed, soft and sharp, looking away as if dismissing you. But his neck was warm. His ears burned. He hadn’t meant to look away first. 

Something about the way your eyes tracked him made his skin feel too tight. He didn’t like it. He did. And later—much later—he would admit to himself that was the moment everything shifted. 

Because you didn’t want him.

You didn’t fear him. You didn’t need him. You saw him.

And for someone like Geo—guarded, solitary, used to being worshipped or avoided—being seen was far more dangerous. And far more addictive.

It started small.

Inconspicuous, even. Geo didn’t linger. Geo never lingered.

He was the type to enter a room with intention, finish his task, and leave before anyone could start a conversation. Precision wasn’t just part of his archery; it was baked into how he lived. Efficient. Unbothered. Remote. Until you.

It wasn’t conscious, not at first. Just… a coincidence. You were always sitting in that same spot in the library—top floor, back left corner, beneath the wide window that filtered in light shine across your notes. Head down, earbuds in, eyes glazed.

Studying, probably. Or maybe somewhere far away inside your mind.

He didn’t mean to stop. Didn’t mean to sit at the table across from you. Or choose the one chair that let him steal glances between pages of his book. But something about the stillness around you... it was magnetic. Anchoring.

So he stayed. 

And then he did it again the next day. And the next.

Eventually, it became a habit. Geo would finish training, towel off the sweat, toss his bag over his shoulder—and without fail, his feet would carry him to you. Even if just for ten minutes. Even if he only got to watch you scribble something he’d never ask about.

He told himself he liked the silence. That it helped him focus.

But the truth? He liked you in the silence. The way you didn’t flinch when he sat down. The way your body didn’t shift away like most did. You didn’t shrink, didn’t ask questions, didn’t try to fill the void between you. You just let it be.

That was dangerous. Addictive. Peaceful.

And infuriating.

Because then he started noticing things. Stupid things.

Like how you always twisted the end of your hair when you were stuck. Or how you would space out so intensely that you once walked directly into a vending machine and apologized to it under your breath.

You bumped into desks. Into door frames. Into people.

It drove Geo insane.

You moved through life like your body was a vessel and your mind existed somewhere else entirely. It was careless. Vulnerable. A target. He hated that. Hated the way it made his pulse spike. So, naturally, he started walking near you more often. Not that you noticed—your earbuds were usually in, your gaze faraway—but his presence was always there.

One step behind.

He caught your elbow once when you tripped on a stair.

“Careful,” he muttered, more irritated than concerned. “There’s gravity here.”

You just blinked up at him, calm as ever. “Is there?” What.

He didn’t let go immediately. Crowe noticed it long before Geo even began to suspect anything was wrong. At first, he found it hilarious. Geo? Following someone around like a stray cat? That was new. The same Geo who scoffed at relationships, rolled his eyes at gossip, and couldn’t care less about anyone unless they were useful in a fight or debate?

That Geo was now orbiting someone like a moon pulled out of alignment.

It was cute. Weirdly so.

But the humor faded fast. Because the more Crowe watched, the more it stopped looking like a crush and started looking like a problem. Geo’s eyes didn’t just glance your way anymore. They locked. Tracked. Focused with a strange intensity that made Crowe’s instincts bristle. Not necessarily dangerous—just… alert. Hyper-aware. 

Like Geo was cataloging every movement, every interaction, every person who dared get too close.

And then there was the way his jaw tightened when your name came up in conversation. Or how his hand twitched—barely, but noticeably—when someone else laughed a little too loud in your direction. Like he was waiting for a reason to react. For someone to slip up.

That was when Crowe decided to poke the wolf.

“You know you’re acting weird, right?” he said casually one day after class, swinging his bag over one shoulder. “Like. Weird weird. Not your usual 'grumpy hermit' thing. This is new.”

Geo didn’t even glance at him. He was crouched on the bench, methodically tying the laces on his shoes.“No, I’m not.”

Crowe snorted. “Uhh, you nearly bit Deryl’s head off for being near them.”

Geo rose slowly, controlled, like a storm carefully leashing itself. “He nearly knocked them over.”

“He was trying to say hi,” Crowe said, squinting at him. “And he didn’t even touch them. Like, at all.”

Geo didn’t reply. Didn’t need to.

The silence said plenty.

Crowe’s grin spread slowly, wicked and knowing. “So. You like them.”

Geo froze, just for a second. His neck snap over to Crowe and voice was flat, expression unreadable. “I don’t like anyone.”

“That’s what makes this even better,” Crowe said, unable to contain his amusement. “They’ve got you spiraling and you don’t even know what to do with it.”

Geo turned his back, brushing past him with the same cold indifference he usually reserved for people who wasted his time. 

But Crowe wasn’t fooled. Not even a little.

Because just before he walked away, he caught it—the faint flush blooming at the tips of Geo’s ears, stark and obvious against his pale skin. 

The worst part for Geo wasn’t the pull. He was used to craving things he couldn’t have—control, stillness, clarity. No, the worst part was the ambiguity.

You were an enigma wrapped in casual disinterest.

You didn’t flirt. Didn’t fawn. You didn’t even acknowledge him half the time beyond the most basic courtesy. Your resting face didn’t help, either—expression calm, eyes detached, a soft fog of disinterest hanging around you like armor. Mysterious. Unreadable. Infuriating.

Geo hated not knowing where he stood.

Were you amused? Bored? Annoyed?Did you even see him, or was he just background noise in your day? He found himself replaying your replies, your glances—every small, forgettable exchange, searching for meaning where there might be none.

Did you like what he said about black cats? Did you roll your eyes when he walked away, or did you watch him leave? Did you think about him when he wasn’t there?

He hated how much he wanted to know.

Because Geo didn’t do feelings. He didn’t do longing. But with you?

He was starting to feel like he might drown in it.

Like, funny thing was—Geo wasn’t much of a talker. Not when it didn’t serve a purpose. Silence was usually his shield, his comfort.

But lately? He’d started talking more—like the dumbest shit to juat to see what you was gonna say about it. Nothing strategy or academics or anything remotely useful. Just... pointless things. Nervous things. Words spilled out not because they mattered, but because you did. And he was trying—fumbling, really—to get past the fortress you kept around your thoughts.

“You ever notice how people walk faster in the rain, even if it’s barely drizzling?”

You didn’t look up from your notebook. “Probably evolutionary instinct.”

He blinked. “...Right. I guess that makes sense.” It didn’t.

But he’d take it. Another time: “Do you think red ink makes teachers angrier?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. It bleeds more.”

He nodded slowly, even though the comment made his brain short-circuit a little. What the fuckk is he asking you? Bleeds more? He didn’t ask. He kind of didn’t want to know. And his personal favorite, said too quickly, too quietly: “Was I annoying just now?”

This time you looked at him. Neutral. Calm. Unblinking. “No. You’re fine.”

That did something to him. Something he didn’t want to name. 

You never gave him more than you had to. No fluff. No fake smiles. But never less, either. Just enough. Just barelyenough to keep him coming back like a moth to a flame that might not want him. 

“Keep talking, please.”

Three words. He spiraled over them for a week. 

See, Geo didn’t do spiraling. He did logic. Discipline. Controlled environments. A life outlined in clean margins. He liked structure. He liked precision. He liked potted plants—orderly things in orderly containers. They lined his dorm windowsill like little green sentinels, trimmed and watered to perfection.

He liked the haunting calm of Japanese opera humming low through his headphones as he read over tactical reports or fine-tuned his form. He liked watching old shadow puppet performances on mute, the flickering silhouettes clean and exact, silent and sharp like the arrows in his quiver.

He liked peace.

But you?

You were none of those things. You unsettled him.

He didn’t know how to contain you in a sentence, a system, a pot.

And ever since that day—those three words—you began to echo in the quiet parts of his mind, uninvited and unrelenting. 

He’d hear your voice while practicing archery, in the stillness before the release. Soft. Measured. Your tone settled behind his ribs like a smooth stone—cool, balanced, a weight that grounded and unsettled him all at once. He became addicted to that calm you carried like a second skin.

To the subtle way you dissected the world without urgency, like nothing could touch you. The way you never reached for him, yet never pushed him away either.

And when you did break that quiet mask?

When your lips curled into a faint smirk that felt like a secret being let slip— When you laughed, once, just once, at something ridiculous he’d said about vending machines or Crowe’s lack of subtlety or Sol’s refusal to sleep indoors like a normal person—

It ruined him.

He replayed it in his head like a crime scene. Where had it come from? What variable had changed? Was it the way he tilted his head? The exact phrasing? The timing? Could he reconstruct it? Could he make it happen again?

He didn’t tell anyone. 

Not Daryl, who would tease. Not even Crowe, who might see too much too quickly and laugh like it was some thrilling scandal. Because the truth was ugly. Brutal. Simple. Geo didn’t just want your silence anymore.

He wanted your secrets. Your thoughts. Your time.

He wanted to sit so close the silence became yours together. He wanted to take up your focus and hold it hostage. He wanted to know how your mind worked the same way he studied arrow velocity and wind resistance—perfectly.

Geo wanted you.

Not in the loud, possessive way others chased things. No. He wanted you quietly—in that same private, reverent way you gave yourself to the world. Careful. Restrained. Deliberate. Like a rare artifact locked behind glass.

So when he invited you out one night, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t broadcast. Not even Crowe knew—not that Geo would’ve tolerated his commentary anyway. It was a simple text. Blunt, brief.

Geo: Come with me tonight. Dress nice.

That was it.

No time. No place. No explanation. Just enough to be intriguing. Just enough to make you pause. He didn’t call it a date. Of course he didn’t. 

But he also wore a tailored jacket. Charcoal black, sharp-cut, the collar slightly popped like he didn’t mean for it to be perfect—but it was. He’d tied his hair back, neat and minimal, not a strand out of place. His usual scowl had softened into something unreadable.

You’d stared for a second longer than you meant to. He didn’t comment.

And still—you couldn’t tell if it was a date.

He’d met you at the corner of campus, where the streetlights flickered like tired fireflies and the buildings loomed like sleeping giants. He didn’t offer an arm. He didn’t hold your hand. He didn’t try to impress you with flashy words or flattery.

Instead, he walked beside you, kept you inner part of the sidewalk, not in front or behind, just with you. Matching your pace. Occasionally watching your expression when you weren’t looking.

He took you to an fancy japanese rooftop restauranrt, tucked above a quiet alley, hidden between a used bookstore and a forgotten tailor’s shop. No signs. No crowd. Just a view of the city at night, stretched out like ink and gold under the stars.

Soft lanterns swayed above the terrace. Warm tea was already waiting—he’d ordered your favorite without asking. A delicate dish of fruit and sweets sat between you, untouched for the first ten minutes because neither of you moved to break the stillness.

He didn’t say much at first. Just sat there.

Watching the skyline. Listening to the quiet.

You looked at him. He was watching the reflection of candlelight flicker in your eyes like he was studying the shape of a constellation.

He finally spoke. "You like places like this, right?"

You didn’t respond right away. You were still trying to name whatever this was—whatever this night had become. The silence hung between you, but not like a weight. With Geo, it never was. It was just... present. 

Like fog rolling through the brain. Your mind, meanwhile, was lost.

‘Was this a date? Or just an oddly elegant detour?’

Still staring out over the rooftop railing, you let the city lights flicker against your skin a moment longer before murmuring, “Yeah. I do.”

He didn’t look at you, but you saw it—the tiniest shift in his posture. The corner of his mouth curled upward, barely. Not a smile, not exactly. More like a fleeting trace of relief that never made it all the way to his eyes.

Soon afterwards, through the winding streets, the silence followed like an old companion. Not awkward. Just... comfortable. Familiar. Geo mentioed of driving you back to your place, so you and him were walking back to his car, it was short walk however it felt long.

You walked beside him in step. Always in step.

Geo moved like he choreographed his whole life. Every step nice. Hands in his pockets, posture too perfect, like even his slouch was planned. His coat flared slightly behind him, catching wind every now and then, a reminder of how damn dramatic he looked against the streetlights.

You glanced sideways, smirking. “You always this extra when going outside? Rooftop café, city view, candlelight? The only thing missing was a violinist….”

He kept his eyes forward, but his brow twitched—barely. 

You’d caught him.

“It wasn’t a date.”

You tilted your head, playful. “Didn’t say it was.”

There it was. The silence again. 

Tighter this time, stretched like elastic between you.

Without breaking stride, you leaned in and bumped your elbow into his ribs. Just enough to annoy. “But if it was, that jacket makes sense now. You looked like you were gonna propose. Or sword fight a man at dawn for my honor.”

“I liked the jacket,” he replied, flat and unimpressed, like he was reading from a cue card.

You whistled low. “I liked it too. Didn’t know you owned fancy clothes.”

That earned you a sideways glare—sharper than the last, but still not a full reaction. You pressed in anyway. “I mean, no offense, Geo, but you dress like a confused colorful grunge most days. You wore a purple hoodie last week. With fishnet tights. Under skinny jeans. With dress shoes. Like what the hell is your aesthetic? Sexy haunted thrift store?”

He actually scoffed this time. His mouth twitched again, fighting something. Probably the urge to shove you into traffic. Probably also trying not to laugh.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice dry as winter air.

“Only a little,” you said, grinning now, riding the high of his mild irritation.

You walked backward for a few steps, facing him with your hands tucked behind your back, head tilted like you were studying a painting in a gallery. “Be honest—were you gonna kiss me if I leaned in tonight?”

Geo didn’t miss a secoud in his stride, but the set of his shoulders betrayed him—they tensed, just enough for you to notice. “No.”

Your grin stretched, slow and wide. “Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he said again, but this time the word dragged out like it didn’t want to exist. Strained. Delayed. Like his mouth and brain were syncing on dial-up.

That did it—you burst out laughing. Not a small laugh. Not one you tried to hide. A full, loud, unapologetic laugh that echoed down the quiet street like a spark caught in wind.

Geo muttered something under his breath, barely audible.

“What was that?” you asked, gleefully stepping back into stride beside him.

“I said—” he exhaled like it physically pained him to say it aloud, “—you must know, deep in that ridiculous brain of yours, I don’t do that.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes before looking back at him. “Geo, love, I do know that. But it’s so much fun watching you glitch.”

“I don’t glitch.”

“Oh, you glitched. So hard. When I mentioned kissing you, I saw the lag. It was glorious.”

He rolled his eyes, and you could practically hear the disdain layered in it. “It’s not the idea of kissing. It’s you making it a joke.”

You sidled closer, still wearing that faux-pout. 

“Aw, so you have thought about it?”

His gaze flicked away like a reflex. “You’re unbearable.”

“And you secretly love it.”

“I tolerate it,” he muttered.

You bumped your shoulder against his, light and warm. “That’s practically a love confession coming from you.”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t move away, either.

Instead, your hands brushed again, like they had been doing on and off all night. This time, instead of letting it pass, you turned your palm and slipped your fingers through his—casual, but not careless. The contact was feather-light at first, like you were giving him the choice to pull away.

He didn’t.

His hand stayed in yours, fingers tense at first, then slowly easing. The contact was simple. Small. But it shifted something in the air between you—gentler now. Still charged, still chaotic, but quieter. Softer. More certain.

You walked the rest of the path like that—side by side, your fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world. The teasing faded, but the quiet wasn’t empty. It was warm, like the last bit of sunlight before dusk slips away. It hummed with everything you didn’t say aloud, but both of you felt anyway.

Geo’s hand was steady in yours, but there was a slight tremble you didn’t miss. And when you glanced sideways, you caught it—just the faintest hint of color blooming across his cheeks, high and soft and so very real. Not from embarrassment. Not from discomfort.

But from you.

He wasn’t flustered because of the idea of love or attraction in the usual way. That wasn’t how he operated, and you knew that—respected it like sacred ground. He wasn’t the type to fall headfirst. He was cautious, calculated. Guarded.

But somehow, you’d still gotten in.

Not by breaking down his walls, but by curling up inside the quiet spaces he never thought to defend. You didn’t just sneak past his boundaries—you rewrote the map. You made your way into his world, not like an invader, but like a constant. A presence he hadn’t realized he’d always needed.

Maybe he wouldn’t ever whisper flowery confessions or write you sonnets on rainy nights. Maybe he’d never be the one to make grand romantic gestures or say the words the way others did.

But he showed it—every time he didn’t pull away. Every time he stood a little closer. Every time he let you tease him and didn’t push back too hard.

He wanted you.

Wholly. Constantly. Quietly.

The drive back to your place was quiet. Not awkward, not tense—just quiet in that strange, comforting way that happens when two people understand each other without needing to speak.

Geo slowed the car to a stop in front of their place, the low hum of the engine giving way to a silence that settled gently between them. He turned the keys in the ignition and sat there for a beat, staring out through the windshield like he could stall the inevitable.

But routine still mattered to him. Predictability. He slipped out of the driver’s seat and circled around, already reaching for the passenger side door before he could think too much about it.

Of course he was going to open the door for them. He always did.

But this time, as he opened it and extended a hand to help you up, as he took your hand in his—soft fingers curling around his—and let him pull them to their feet. No hesitation. No witty remark. Just that quiet confidence they always wore like armor.

But instead of stepping away or offering a breezy goodbye, you leaned forward and wrapped their arms around him. A real hug. No half-hearted pat on the back, no joking squeeze to keep things light. This one was full-bodied, firm, and warm in a way that caught him entirely off guard.

Your head rested briefly against him, and he could feel your breath—slow, steady, purposeful—like you were grounding themselves in him. Or maybe grounding him in them. He didn’t know anymore.

Geo froze.

His hands hovered in the air for a moment, unsure—almost trembling with hesitation—before he gave in and returned the embrace. Not because he understood it. Not because he was used to this kind of closeness. But because it felt like the most natural thing in the world to hold them like that, like something in him recognized this moment long before it arrived.

You held him a second longer than necessary, then slowly stepped back, just enough to meet his gaze. No teasing glint in their eye, no smirk tugging at their lips. Just softness. Calm. Like this, too, was inevitable.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” You said, voice low and certain. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a promise. It was a fact. And then, before he could respond, you turned and made their way up the steps toward their door, disappearing into the quiet night with that same effortless grace they always carried—like they hadn’t just slipped something heavy and permanent into his chest.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to.

Because Geo was still standing there with the door open, arms slack at his sides, heart thudding like he’d just been thrown into a storm he didn’t see coming.

The night was quiet again.

But now, it pressed in around him—heavy, echoing.

Because what made it worse wasn’t the hug.

It was how real it was. How unguarded. How much it meant even though they hadn’t said a single word about it. You didn’t need to wreck him with sharp words or chaotic antics. Not anymore. 

You could destroy him just by caring, calm. Just by being you.

And you had.

He’d never say it out loud—not even to himself. But standing there alone in the hush they left behind, he knew, clear as day:

You wrecked him. Every. Damn. Time.

I love writing about my man. Maybe it sounds a little too good to be true sometimes—but that’s the beauty of it. He lives the way I imagine him.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Ohhh wow. Baby boy absolutely lost on your calmness.

Hyugo was a creature of energy—buzzing, bouncing, chaotic in a way that could light up an entire hallway. It was his language. His method. The very way he connected to the world: by making people react. Laughter, blushing, a rolled eye, even a scoff—he craved it all. So when he first crossed paths with you, arms crossed, expression unreadable, voice like calm rain on a tin roof? He short-circuited.

You weren’t shy. Just neutral. Calculated. Like you were perpetually observing, choosing your responses on a need-to-use basis. When he grinned and asked, “Hey, what’s your favorite snack?” and you said, “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” in that flat, knowing tone? He blinked. Then paused. Then whispered under his breath, “Okay… wait, what?” It was like trying to flirt with a locked vault that somehow slid him his own reflection back in response.

He should’ve been discouraged. Should’ve moved on. But instead, Hyugo got invested. You became his favorite puzzle. He started sending you cursed memes at 2 AM, just to see if you’d crack. 

You didn’t. 

You just left him on read—sometimes with the read receipt turned on, like a passive-aggressive mic drop. He’d find you sitting on the campus quad, peaceful and still like a perfectly trimmed bonsai, and he’d throw himself dramatically across the grass beside you with a whisper of, “Miss me?”

You never even turned your head. Just dropped his forgotten homework back into his open bag and said, “It’s due in two hours.” Somehow, you always treated him like he was your responsibility—like someone had to keep track of the hurricane that was Hyugo, and you had simply accepted the task with quiet resignation. Not because you were emotionally attached (though you were), but because he couldn’t be trusted to function like a human being without guidance.

What made it worse—what really got to him—was that you kept up with him. Effortlessly. While he was skipping class to “help the janitor with roof maintenance” (translation: napping on the forbidden rooftop), you were the one sending text reminders like clockwork.

“Assignment due by midnight. I shared the answers. You’re welcome.”

“You left your bookbag at my place. Again.”

“Drink water. I know you didn’t.”

It was enough to make him melt. But in classic Hyugo fashion, he didn’t let up. He kept trying—because your rare, deadpan one-liners? The way you occasionally tapped his arm or looked up just long enough to meet his eyes? It fueled him for weeks.

Of course, Sol couldn’t help but comment on it. One afternoon, as Hyugo dramatically flailed behind you in the walking on camups—arms full of chaotic gestures and failed attempts at catching your attention—Sol leaned against a locker with a smirk. “You know,” he muttered, eyes half-lidded with judgment, “you look real desperate right now.”

Hyugo didn’t even break stride. 

“Says the guy who’s been rearranging his bangs for twenty minutes because his crush might walk past the art room.”

Sol blinked.

Hyugo continued, casually tossing a wink over his shoulder, “At least I know mine. And they actually talks to me.” Then he turned back around and whispered, “Even if it’s just to tell me I missed another deadline.” He sighed to himself.

It was late afternoon when Hyugo found you again—alone on the third-floor balcony of the library, tucked where the sunlight couldn’t quite reach. You were reading, as always. One leg crossed over the other, expression unreadable, as if the world outside the page didn’t exist.

He leaned against the railing next to you, unusually quiet.

No dramatic entrance. No exaggerated greeting. Just silence.

You noticed, of course. But you didn’t look up, not yet. You knew his patterns, the rhythm of his noise. This quiet? It was... off.

“I’m going to get that new ‘Devil Storm Re:Slash’ game tomorrow,” he said finally, fingers drumming the metal rail. “The deluxe one. The one with the exclusive artbook and the collector’s pins and—whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, the sound neutral. Polite. Expectant.

He hesitated, then turned to face you more fully. “I, uh... I wanna be first in line. Like, I’m talking ‘wait-outside-the-store-all-night’ first.”

Your eyes lifted from the page, slow and deliberate. “And?”

Hyugo shifted his weight, scratching the back of his neck. “And... I want you to come with me.”

A pause. Not because you were thinking.

Just because you knew he wanted a pause. He wanted something from you. Something more than the usual routine.

Finally, you said, “Okay.”

He blinked. “Wait—what?”

“I said okay.”

“You mean like… okay okay? As in—you’ll actually come with me? No emotional hostage situation? No guilt-tripping me into finishing homework first?”

You closed your book. “You want me to come. I’ll come.”

The simplicity of your agreement hit him harder than he expected. No sarcasm. No negotiation. No teasing deflection. Just yes.

Hyugo stared at you, his smile faltering for the first time that day. And it was then he admitted—mostly to himself—that he wasn’t just chasing your reactions because they were rare. He was chasing them because he needed them. Because they made him feel real. Grounded. Seen. And he had spent so long being loud, obnoxious, energetic—hoping someone would respond, even just a little.

“…Why’d you say yes so fast?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, like it wasn’t a real question.

You looked at him, calm and steady. “Because you asked like you meant it.”

That silenced him.

No quip. No dramatic hand wave. Just Hyugo, heart stuttering in a chest full of noise, wondering how you always knew exactly when to be quiet—and when to say the exact thing he wasn’t ready to hear.

“…Cool,” he muttered after a beat. “Cool cool cool. I mean. You’ll regret it. I’m bringing snacks. And my anime playlist. You’re gonna suffer.”

You stood and grabbed your bag. “I’ll survive. You should finish your Art project tonight.”

“Ugh. You suck.”

You shrugged. “You’d miss the deadline otherwise.”

He watched you walk away with your usual grace, untouchable as always—but somehow, that one word, okay, kept echoing in his chest louder than all the times you ignored his memes combined.

And Hyugo, for once, didn’t feel like a joke. He felt chosen.

The next morning, 3:47 AM sharp, you and Hyugo stood outside the grimy, fluorescent-lit game store at the edge of town.

Hyugo looked like he belonged in a disaster documentary—blanket around his shoulders like a cape, hood up over messy hair, clutching a thermos of coffee with the intensity of a man on the brink. His breath fogged in the air as he bounced on his heels, eyes sparkling with sleep-deprived determination.

“We are making history right now,” he declared, voice a little too loud for the ghost-town hour.

You glanced at him, hands in your coat pockets, utterly unbothered. “There’s literally one guy ahead of us. History is generous.”

“That’s Greg. Greg doesn’t count. He lives here.”

Sure enough, Greg—early 40s, heavy parka, portable chair, expression like a man who had seen things—gave a solemn nod from his post at the door. He did look like a part of the building.

Hyugo leaned closer to you, whispering like it was a covert op. “He told me once he camped out for ‘Call of Duty: Geriatric Ops.’ Said it was worth the frostbite.”

You raised a brow. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Time passed in strange, slow intervals. Hyugo talked enough for both of you. Animated. Rambling. Telling you the entireplot of the last three Devil Storm games, complete with sound effects and voice impressions.

“And then this demon prince guy, right—he sacrifices his arm for a cursed scythe, but plot twist, the arm was already cursed so now he’s double cursed, and his childhood best friend—who's secretly the reincarnation of the goddess of violence—is like, ‘Noooo, you idiot!’ and then boom! Emotional trauma and boss fight.”

You blinked. “How many hours did you play this?”

“More than I studied last semester.” Not shocking.

He offered you some snacks from his backpack—Takis, sour candy, a suspiciously melted granola bar. You declined all of it. And yet… somewhere between his fourth dramatic retelling and his brief existential crisis about Greg being closer to the door than him, you reached into your own coat and pulled out a thermos of hot chocolate.

You handed it to him wordlessly.

He stared at it like you'd just given him a family heirloom. “For me?”

“No, for Greg.”

He held it to his chest like it was sacred. “I’m going to marry you.”

Your smirk was enough to make him choke on air.

By the time the doors finally opened—at exactly 8:00 AM sharp—Hyugo was vibrating with so much energy he nearly knocked over a cardboard standee of the game’s main character. Greg gave you both a solemn salute as you entered.

Hyugo was the first to grab the deluxe box. You were second. He held it up like a trophy, grinning at you like a kid who won a goldfish at a fair.

“You know,” he said, eyes bright, “most people would’ve told me to shut up five hours ago. But you? You just stood there. Kept me warm by sheer vibe.”

You blinked slowly. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

And he laughed. Loud, unfiltered, the kind that echoed through the store. As the adrenaline of the game release wore off and morning light finally began to bleed across the sky in soft, grey-blue streaks, Hyugo turned to you, game case tucked under his arm like sacred treasure.

“Alright,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a dramatic yawn. “Now we celebrate. And by celebrate, I mean greasy food and a dangerous amount of syrup.”

You gave him a nod of approval. “You’ve earned it. Somehow.”

“Somehow? I braved hypothermia, public embarrassment, and Greg’s war flashbacks. That deserves at least three waffles.”

The two of you started walking, the quiet of the early hour wrapping around you like a blanket. It would’ve been peaceful—until the clouds that had been gently looming all morning decided to unleash a sudden downpour. No warning, no sprinkle, just a full-on sky tantrum.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Hyugo yelped as the rain hit, both of you instinctively bolting toward the nearest shelter—a lonely, flickering bus stop with a crooked bench and questionable graffiti.

You ducked under the cover, brushing water off your sleeves. Hyugo, on the other hand, looked like a wet cat. His hair clung to his forehead, hoodie soaked, shoes squeaking as he flopped dramatically onto the bench.

“This is what I get for tempting fate,” he muttered. “She’s a cruel mistress. Just like my ex.”

“What,” you said.

“Exactly. And yet, she still haunts me.”

That got a small, involuntary snort from you. Barely audible. 

He heard it.

His eyes snapped toward you. “Was that… was that a laugh? Did I just unlock something?”

You exhaled slowly, amused despite yourself. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god, I need to write this down. Note to self: rain plus fake ex equals minor chuckle.”

You shook your head, a real smile pulling at the corners of your mouth now. He was ridiculous. Loud, chaotic, over-the-top—and yet, never annoying. Never too much. Always just enough.

Then he hit you with another one. Eyes wide, faux-serious: “What if we die here? What if the bus stop is haunted? What if Greg follows us and demands tribute?”

And that was it.

You laughed. A soft, quiet thing at first—but then it grew, warm and unexpected, spilling from your chest like something you hadn’t meant to let out. Not the sarcastic chuckles he was used to, not the exasperated sighs. 

A real laugh.

Hyugo’s own breath caught. His mouth parted slightly, eyes fixed on you like he was seeing something rare and holy. “…Whoa,” he whispered. “That’s what you sound like?”

You tilted your head, a little teasing. “Disappointed?”

He shook his head slowly, as if afraid he’d miss a moment of it. “No! That’s going in my top five core memories. Alongside the time I saw a seagull steal a slice of pizza.”

You stepped toward him, still smiling, and reached out—cupping his damp cheeks gently in your hands. His skin was cold from the rain, but his eyes were warm, brighter than ever.

“Thank you,” you said, quiet but sincere. “I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

Hyugo didn’t speak at first. He was too busy blinking like an idiot, the faintest shade of pink dusting his cheeks. Then he smirked, just barely.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. “But now you’re in trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because now I know how to win.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hands stayed where they were. And he leaned in ever so slightly, like even if the rain kept falling, this—this moment under a sad, flickering bus stop—was already the best part of his day.

Yeah. You didn’t always give him what he wanted.

But when you did? It was everything.

That calm authority? It wasn’t cold. It was dangerously caring. And when you did finally touch his arm, gently reminding him to study? He short-circuited so hard he nearly walked into a vending machine.

You weren’t just his crush. You were his grounding wire.

And he didn’t stand a chance.

Ngl this was cute as hell to write, love Hyugo

[wolftarotcrafts]

Hello this is my first ever post I hope you like it.

Pile One

Hello pile one I see your future spouse having dark hair, like dark black or dark brown that might even look black. As for eyes, I see them having dark blue eyes, and just in general, really dark eyes. I don't see them having light eyes. I can also see them having really intense eyes, like they can be very intimidating. Like they can see into your soul type of thing. For their skin color, I see for some of you they will be light skin, possibly really pale, and for others of you, I am seeing a really tan to darker skin tone. They either be really tall or really short, so like taller than average or shorter than Average. There is something about them that stands out, like their eyes, hair, or how they dress. They might dress really expensive and just look expensive. You look at them and go, "Damn, they got money." They might look really intimidating, but when they smile, their whole face changes, and they look all soft and nice. They have a cute smile. They are also gorgeous and look very put together. They take really good care of themselves. For their body type, you can tell they go to the gym because they look strong. I see them being muscular. 

Extra: Straight hair, red hair, short hair, really long hair, colored hair, Sagittarius, may, cancer, Capricorn, water signs, earth signs, French, Canadian, Mexico, love songs, weekday, freckles, clean-shaven, smart, twin flames, 2, in a few months, stands out from the crowd, red, money, witty, intelligent, strong.

Pile Two

Hey, pile two for how your future spouse looks; I'm getting they kind of look spunky and fun. They may have some type of birthmark or markings on them that are noticeable. I can see them dressing in some dark colors; they could even be more punk or goth. For hair, I see light auburn hair and blond. I see them being lean and athletic. They are not that muscular, but they do look like they are active and workout. For eye color, I see green and brown, maybe a mix of those. For skin color, I see them having a tan to olive skin tone. I see them being averagely tall—not too short but not overly tall either. I can see them having piercings and tattoos. I see them having an intense or strong gaze. I see them having interesting eyes. They might have heterochromia eyes; there is something about their eyes. 

Extra: Eyes, gaze, observing, birthmark, tattoos, dark skin, fire signs, curly hair, blond hair, 32, 41, 16, brown, green, red, friends, friendly, extroverted, party goer, fun, loud.

Pile Three

Hi pile three, Your future spouse is really intimidating, and I think even more than pile one's future spouse. I see them possibly being spiritual, and they also seem very serious. They might not smile that often and have a resting bitch face. I see them having dark hair, like black hair. I see them have darker skin tones. I see them having brown eyes. I can see them being tall, at least taller than you. For their body type, I see them having muscles but not to prominent. They are fit, and they take care of themselves, but I see them taking care of their minds and souls more. So they may do meditation and self-care. They might not really go to the gym. They may work out by going on runs or cycling, something like that. I see that while they have a strong aura around them, they are very calm. 

Extra: Proposal, children, family, traditional, masculine energy, music, sneaky, Gemini, 45, 35, 1212, good looking, stern, macabre, grim, morbid, serious, protective, physical touch, romantic, black hair, RBF, spiritual. 

Thank you, and I hope you liked my reading. If you want to buy a personal reading, I have a Esty shop called WolfTarotCrafts. I plan to open a Ko-fi, but for now, I have them available on my Esty. 

[danibeanie]

Vibes & Beauty Astro observations 🩶

Stelliums💘

-i noticed girlies that have a stellium seem to have a stronger impression on people.Its very common to hear “I love your energy.”

-gemini stellium, love talking, mischievous eyes, sharp beauty,usually long brows,high pitched voice, playful,hair color very saturated like if you got dark hair it’s BLACK or light hair it’s super blonde.

-virgo stellium, just like their mercurial, but a bit more calm and reserved,down to earth voice,”girl me too”,natural beauty,can have a rbf,observant eyes.

-aries stellium, miss independent(love that tho), flushed cheeks, straightforward,intimidating, knows who she is, pronounced brows wether thin or thick they stand out,childlike eyes,gorg girlies.

-pisces stellium, eyes stand out wether it be color or shape you just notice them, kind & pure,high voices just like gemini but they don’t change it as much, cute, creates softness to the face,angels.

-usually when you have a stellium in a chart your gonna attract other people with a stellium as well

Eyes 👀

- water moon girlies have emotional eyes. Its even more pronounced when you have a moon conjunction with inner planets.

Cancer- looks through your soul, “what’s wrong you look sad?”,doe eyes,vulnerable ,pretty eyes ,guys nervous to look at your eyes,manipulative eyes.

Scorpio- intense,intense,intense,darker eyes DOESN’T matter the color, reads u like a book, hiding something,intimidating,mix of siren/doe

Pisces-so prettyyy,lots of eyelid space for some,in tune with other people,pure eyes,mysterious eyes ,long lashes, princess.

-I might just do a series on this!

-Lilith energy🖤

-When having prominent Lilith energy your just going to stand out somehow wether it be ur looks or personality. There’s just something to these people that makes u wanna watch.

-this may be a theory but I believe your lilith placement affects your looks even if it doesn’t tough your ascendant but it has to STRONGLY prounounced to ur personal planets.

-ex I have a Gemini stellium and I have sun moon and mercury conjunction all in 2nd house. My ascendent is in Taurus and my lilith in Gemini conjunct my sun and mercury but not my moon because it’s in an early degree cancer. I’m also a late taurus rising making half of my 1st house gemini. Also my Venus is in gemini in 1st house even though Lilith doesn’t touch my Venus it’s very pronounced in my 2nd house.(2’d house is Taurus home-connection to ascendent)

-All my life guys never approached me and when the few of them did they all had heavy mars energy wether being scorpio or Aries. I find myself attracted to Leo energy and I believe it’s because they match my strong energy. Insecure guys get intimidated by you and treat u like shit.Then get mad when you leave them but still keep on coming back?😭but for some reason expect you to be on the side like no sir we are all #1s here.I though u didn’t like me why are u trying to get my attention when u clearly didn’t want it yesterday.

-even if you try to hide your body for some reason it’s still noticed, “your so tiny” I’ve learned to embrace my body the older I get. confidence is key YALL!

-super black hair,I can’t tell u how many times people have commented on how dark my hair is😭

-mysterious vibe without even trying, my friends have told me this when I walk at the campus.

- I have a bestie with lilith energy as well but it squares her ascendent and mercury many people thought she was a b when first meeting her(even me).She also has mars conjunct ascendent lmao but I love her and our vibes just match each other. I feel like my Venus energy tames my lilith energy a bit more but it’s still there 😭

-guys just don’t approach u period :/

bye y’all thank u so much for the support in my last 2 posts lot of love🖤

[dippindaz]

If you're still taking requests, I'd love to see some headcanons about how billy & eddie like/react to being protected. I love giving my friends scary dog privileges because apparently my default expression is "would happily cut a bitch" lmao 😊

Teething on your writing btw om nom nom nom nom

Aww 🥹 thank you so much! I love this request concept, very cute and lots more potential imo. I think we all either know someone or have rbf lmao

Thank you for requesting! <3 I hope you enjoy.

Billy Hargrove

• Initial Reaction: Billy’s first instinct would likely be anger or frustration. He’s not used to anyone standing up for him, and his pride would make it hard to accept. He might bark out, “I don’t need you to defend me!” even if a small part of him is touched by the gesture.

• Subtle Gratitude: Despite his outward irritation, Billy would be secretly flattered and maybe even a little shocked. Deep down, he craves loyalty and someone in his corner, even if he struggles to show it.

• Extra Protective: Seeing you step in for him would make Billy double down on protecting you. He’d feel responsible for keeping you safe because “no one should have to protect me; it’s my job to protect them.”

• Vulnerability: If you called him out on his bravado, he might reluctantly admit that it meant something to him. Maybe late at night, he’d mumble, “No one’s ever done that for me before,” while avoiding eye contact.

• Learning to Trust: Over time, Billy might begin to let his guard down around you, seeing that your protective actions come from a place of love rather than pity or control.

Eddie Munson

• Over-the-Top Reaction: Eddie would be a mix of amused and impressed. “Whoa, didn’t know I was dating a superhero!” he’d joke, flashing a wide grin. He’d play it off lightheartedly, but he’d secretly love the idea of you stepping in for him.

• Absolute Shock: Eddie isn’t used to people having his back, especially when it comes to confrontations. He’d be genuinely touched, his usual snark giving way to a soft, wide-eyed look.

• Proud of You: Eddie would gush about how cool and badass you were, maybe even telling his friends. “You should’ve seen it, man. They totally had my back!”

• Immediate Thankfulness: Unlike Billy, Eddie would thank you right away, probably by saying something cheesy like, “My knight in shining armor!” He’s not shy about showing gratitude.

• Clingy Affection: Eddie would probably become extra affectionate afterward, holding your hand or slinging an arm around your shoulder, almost like he’s silently reminding himself that someone cares that much about him.

• Protective in Return: While he might not be the best at physical confrontations, Eddie would want to repay the favor by standing up for you in his own way—whether that’s with his sharp wit or by rallying his friends to your side.

[that-basic-simp]

Olivia Headcanons

A/N: Before we get into it, these headcanons are a bit all over the place. This is my first time writing headcanons for a character. So I apologize if I am jumping back and forth and it doesn't feel like it's focused on one thing. Also, there are NSFW ones.

Mix of modern era and Wilds era

X Fem! Reader headcanons too

MDNI

SFW:

--First thing's first, Olivia is not a black cat type of person. She's not the golden retriever x black cat kind of relationship dynamic

--She's the German shepherd whereas you are either the black cat or the golden retriever

--She will be the one that can instantly flip a switch

--One minute she's cute and loving, next she can put on an RBF expression that can scare even a Rathalos

--Speaking of that, she is scary when pissed off

--Girl wields a hammer that is probably her weight or more, don't test her

--And when it comes to you, she is the worrisome kind of protective

--Not all the time, but to the point where if you accidentally don't call her when you get home, she will start to worry

--She won't bombard you with "where are you?" or "are you OK?" messages

--She's calm and patient, but she will start to worry silently and heaven forbid she's away from you when that happens

--Because the others can pick up on it. Her mannerisms will change, more pacing, she might talk to herself a bit more often, seems out of it and all that fun stuff

--The minute you message her back, she's fine

--I feel like she'd be the doting one, but not in a very affectionate way (when you two are in public) but will constantly check in on you

--This woman also has like a sixth sense when it comes to you

--If she sees you woke up wrong, she's immediately on you. Asking you if you slept wrong, if you need a back or neck massage, that kind of stuff

--And heaven forbid you get your period when she's around

--She can and will force you to rest and be like your own personal heating pad

--Speaking of that, she runs hot (literally and figuratively)

--So having her when you're on your period is like heavenly

--When she's on her period, you wouldn't even guess she was having her period

--This woman would go through the most painful cramps of her life, level 10 on that simulator for men to see how painful period cramps are

--And she would still go rushing into battle against a monster like it was an ordinary Tuesday

--But the minute she's in her tent or with you, it's over

--She's all curled up in a fetal position and suffering silently

--I feel like she'd mutter under her breath "these cramps suck" "I wouldn't even wish this on my worst enemy" "why do I have to suffer with this" that sort of stuff

--You'd find it cute because she was this fearsome leader and then she's crumbling in your arms

--As opposed to where you've seen her take on a full blown attack from a monster and get up, brush off the dirt, and go back to fighting

--I can see her being the type of person who is well reserved and well guarded of her feelings/emotions

--And is just overall reserved and sometimes cold when first meeting people

--Because being a monster hunter, you're bound to see people die if they're not careful

--And I think she's experienced enough loss that she comes off as cold, but is just wishing that she doesn't have to go through with losing another person that she could have potentially saved

--So whenever you come aboard and into her life, she can seem a bit off putting and cold

--Athos (love little Athos) can kind of take on that side of Olivia when it comes to people

--So Athos can also be seen as a cold and harsh Palico

--But the minute Athos lays her eyes on you, it's all over

--Athos LOVES you

--You're gentle with her and love to rub her cheeks, under her chin, and behind her ears

--You sneak her snacks when Olivia isn't looking

--And that's how Olivia gets to open up to you and lets her guard down

--Which is great for you and her because then she just adores you when you two start dating

NSFW:

--I see Olivia being on the ace spectrum in an aspect, specifically demisexual/demiromantic

--again, she fights monsters so she can't really stop and sit down to fall in love with someone

--but when she does, she has to have a special and strong bond

--She is definitely not the type to fuck around and find out

--No, no, no, she is not into the hookups, she is not into the one night stands

--If you're going to be Olivia's partner, you're going in for the long haul and commitment

--she will not fuck around and find out

--she will fuck around once she finds out

--and when she does, be prepared

--she's gentle when she needs to be

--so if there's a night where you just want it to be slow and sensual, she will go slow and be sensual

--she'll kiss up and down your jawline, your neck, chest, stomach, all the way down there

--she'll even kiss your inner thighs

--she'd also be the kind of person to show a lot of affection to areas where you are insecure about

--a bit on the bigger side, she'll love every part you don't

--have scars you're afraid of people seeing/knowing the backstory? she'll run her finger down them and kiss it softly

--now if you tell her you want a bit of a more heated night, she's on it

--I can see her rarely being on the receiving end of any kind of sexual interaction

--like very rarely will she ask you to eat her out or to use the strap on her

--speaking of strap, if she's a monster hunter, and she has a strap, does that means she has a monster cock? (I'll see myself out)

--anyway, I think she has one smaller sized one at the beginning of the relationship and then she gets a bigger one once you're comfortable

--again, since I see her as demi, it will take a while for her to actually want to enact intercourse

--but once she does, she's a Goddess

--she's got you screaming her name within minutes of her being inside of you, both with the strap and with her fingers (not at the same time)

--but when she's eating you out, you're done for once she pulls out the tongue and finger combo

--you better pray that it's during the evening because you're not walking the next day

--has a low libido (bless her soul if you're the opposite of her and have a high one)

--definitely puts your pleasure first before hers

--and on the rare occasion where you are giving and not receiving, you better go fucking slow

--because she does not want it to be a quick one

--just as you want her to take her time with you on some days

--you bet your ass she wants you to do the same

--and if she wants to go fast, you better go fast because she takes forever to orgasm (you're in for the long haul)

--I feel like the best places that she loves to kiss are of course the lips

--forehead, cheeks, palms, pads of fingers, and knuckles when you're out in public

--but behind closed doors, it's jawline, neck, chest, stomach, and inner thighs

--and her favorite place when you kiss her, again, aside from lips

--are her neck, biceps, hands (literally anywhere), and her abs (CAPCOM YOU BETTER SHOW US HER ABS BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW SHE HAS THEM)

--and if she's really feeling it, her thighs (I'd like to get crushed by them. Also if any artist is reading this and can draw, I'd love to see Y/N and Olivia as that one meme that went around with the girl being crushed by a guy's bicep. I'll commission someone if I have to.)

A/N: Anyway, that's all I got so far. If there's any specific ones you want to see, I will do my best to write them. (I'm not great with headcanons)

[punkeropercyjackson]

🍫Zuko headcanons🍫

🍫Multiracial asian but mainly japanese ancestry.It's confirmed in one of the novel's there was a cultural unification in-universe so as a biracial latina,i'm taking this as mixed-coding

🍫Trans man who dosen't mind dipping his toes into femininity when asked(usually by Aang)but generally strongly perfers masculinity in his presentation.His egg cracked in his toddler years and due to his societal position,getting t and surgeries was very easy and his top surgery scars are dragon wing shaped

🍫Also sorry short king Zuko nation but i'm a 2nd tallest member of The Gaang Zuko truther.Katara is 6'7 and Zuko is 6'4(and goes without saying she uses it to tease him and calls him 'Squirt' and he sputters and yells at her every time)

🍫Autistic with anxiety,bpd,npd and ptsd.That no masking game rbf is iconic and he also has chronic pain and fatigue and uses a tricked up cane Sokka made him that's also a sword and goes with saying he's legally blind in his scar eye

🍫Tradgoth.Emo Zuko is fake and so is punk Zuko and grunge Zuko and literally any non-goth Zuko and i'm including poser goth Zuko.In a modern au he'd walk around looking like Spencer's ate him up then vomited him out into an empty grave he dug his own way out of Jason Todd style and a cunti maximus.He would also listen to death rock,Korn and breakcore,slander Hot Topic,encourage diy and online store shopping,play pirated horror games(and Animal Crossing),collect lost media items,do deepdive research into urban legends as a special interest,attend moshes,skateboard and do piercings for neighbourhood kids who ask him(including Aang🫶🏽)

🍫Fat/Dad bod.Give that guy some REAL thickness,none of that dehydrated bodybuilder bullshit.It was caused by him eating a lot more and a lot healthier,both from his healing arc with a new enviorment that's actually good for him and to sustain himself in training and Aang also has some chub going on but from the start of the series and he helps Zuko know there's nothing wrong with big builds and Zuko has pretty much no body insecurities as a result just like he does(it dispelling fears of resembling Ozai as he got older certainly didn't hurt)

🍫Katara and him are honorary siblings and she's his way cooler little sister figure and he's her older brother only she can bully 2:Electric Boogalo.I like to think they make matching friendship bracelets with eachother's aesthetics(so a sea themed one for Zuko and a gothic themed one for Katara)and Zuko convinces Katara to emotionally rely on him even if she'll never see him as a dad like Aang and Toph do and it eventually works

🍫He also is the reason she discovered cat cafes and she goes to them bi-monthly now as comfort and to unwind from all her constant activism.Zuko's a huge fan of cat cafes too and they were safe spaces for him pre-banishment and one of the first thing's he did when the war ended was go to one again.Whoever Zuko is dating is given cat cafe punch cards by him as one of the ultimate romantic gestures in his mind(he right though)

🍫Calls Aang 'My Sunshine',a nickname that fits his sunny personality but also to say he gave him the strength he needed to connect to his own power to save himself by bringing the sun back into his life in his hand,extended to him to give him a chance even when he was too caught up to see he had one.Less setimentally,he also calls him 'Mittens'

🍫Bites as affection,little nibbles or straight up enough for the other person to bleed depending on how cool they are with it.He asks and establishes consent first obvs even in the former cases

🍫Boba is the only kind of tea he likes.Don't @ me with 'he spit it out when Iroh invented it and had him try it',he was just surprised at the tapioca balls.His favorite flavors are brown sugar,cotton candy,funfetti,berrymix and oreo

🍫SUPER physically affectionate with Aang and it started one sided on his part but Zuko soon starting instigating it too instead of tolerating it to enjoying it about two years into their friendship.If he goes too long without an Aang hug he finds it upsetting and it pisses him off

🍫Very into gems,odd rocks,seashells,etc and has a secret stockpile in his room

🍫Pretty long hair,all the way down to his hips and perfers it out of his face,in a back of the head ponytail or half-up in a bun with the rest loose

🍫Always knew he was bi subconciously but didn't realize it until he was 16.He's that one tweet-'I'm probably a faggot x2 combo but i got a quest so idrc about that rn'

🍫Modern au Zuko is obsessed with PushPops.Don't question it,just know i'm right and may figure out a way to canonize them to core Atla

🍫Apologized to Azula and rebuilt a relathionship with her as soon as he released her from prison as The Gaaang were struck with how broken and not 'too far gone' she is.It took a long time and so much fucking work but The Fire Siblings finally felt comfortable seeing eachother as family and acting as not legit beefy but healthy siblings

🍫Has a voice tic where he constantly sounds angry and can't control it and he has to learn to tell people so they don't mistake it for lashing out at them

🍫Likes wearing long sleeves for that flap stim and drumming his fingers but to create a musical sound rather than for the sake it of as a stim too.Crushing stims are a Zuko trademark

🍫'Why does Zuko call you babygirl?''Aang,how about we just stop talking for a little while?' < every Zuko ship

🍫Dangly lemon quartz material dragon earrings

🍫Adores Choose Your Own Adventure comics and books!!He loves choosing his own destiny alright /lh /pos

[chemical-bunz]

do you have any other mlp next gen’s?

Boy do I!

This is Cupcake, her parents are Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. She’s a young teen and currently Going Through It bc she keeps having horrific nightmares caused by that freaky ghost thing that caused Nightmare Moon to happen.

These two are Knifetrick and Quickhoof, Trixie and Starlight’s daughters. Knifetrick is carrying on momma’s business of being a magician, and Quickhoof…. Well, Quickhoof is a master of disguise who infiltrates wealthy social groups so she can dramatically rob them.

Their mothers love them equally. (Even if they keep trying to convince Quickhoof to come to the School of Friendship for a “quick visit” that is very clearly a front to force her into a redemption arc.)

This one is going to take some explaining. Ok so you know how Stygian was in Limbo as the Pony of Shadows, and Tirek was in Tartarus? Well in my au, those dimensions are one and the same and the two of them had a… interesting relationship while in that shared space.

After Stygian was reformed, he was sad to discover his… “dear friend”… was still in Tartarus. He plead his case to give Tirek a shot at redemption.

After several years of trial and error, Tirek did, eventually, reform to a point where he was able to reenter society with his husband, and proceed to have FOUR children together, each a mix of pony and centaur.

(How? Magic🪄✨)

And now for the guys that aren’t canon to my au! (Yet)

Each of these are a batch of hypothetical children!

The first are Twilight x Fluttershy kids! Prince Quizlet, Doctor Steadyhoof, Princess Elect Wallflower, and little Princess Bunnyhop.

Quizlet inherited all of his parents’ neuroticism. He constantly worries about literally everything, but he’s also deeply curious. His special talent is research.

Steadyhoof is a world-renowned surgeon who prides herself on her skill and… you guessed it, steady hoof. She doesn’t like attention unless she feels she’s earned it, and those shins the Princess title. She looks mean, but i promise she just has RBF.

Wallflower has a lot of the same anxieties as Quizlet, but has to keep them on the down-low. As Twilight’s chosen successor, she feels obliged to be the Normal One that everyone else can rely on. She’s calm under pressure, because pressure is all she’s ever known.

And Bunnyhop is literally just a baby.

These three are Rainbow Dash x Rarity kids

Spectra Sash takes after Rarity’s sense of style and personality (being based on g3 Rainbow Dash), and is a pseudo-earthpony (unicorn and pegasus genes cancelled each other out, leaving her with cloudwalking and limited magical senses)

Starchaser is a unicorn who wants to be a Pegasus so, so bad. So badly that her hopeful-engineering-based cutiemark has gradually overtaken her entire body due to excess magic)

Aether is an exhausted older brother who helped raise his sisters. He holds a respectable position at the weather factory. He’s deeply competitive when you get to know him.

And finally, the Fluttershy x Rainbow Dash kids

Cacus is a weather worker and a bit of a hothead. If you think you can outdo her, think again or prepare for trouble. She doesn’t take losing well.

Sparkleworks is a late bloomer and teen blankflank. Even though his talents are easily recognized, he isn’t quite ready to embrace any one of them. He jumps from project to project whenever he feels called to it.

Open Skies is a yoga instructor who buys into a bunch of weird spiritual practices vaguely based off non-equestrian religions.

Foxglove is an herbalist and witch doctor who is very autistic about plants. Her favorite bonding activity is infodumping.

[griffinskullz]

in an anton shudder mood rn so uhhmhmhmhm these r some hcs!!!!!!!

warning this silly guy is not happy and a couple of these hcs are just a bit sad :,(

has a RBF lmao (resting bitch face (he’s so sweet though he doesn’t know the man running away from him in fear he is scowling at))

about his gist btw! he didn’t choose the discipline. some traumatic event that i am yet to create formed it and it has whispered to him ever since.

yes! the gist whispers to him. pretty much all the time like how valkyrie had draquesse. as he got older and the gist became stronger the whispers became louder. he mostly ignored it but every now and then the dead men would catch him muttering under his breath. talking to it. maybe repeating what it was saying. hardly audible,,, . they never asked about it really though :c they knew he struggled and did their best to help when they could but ultimately the only person who could save anton was himself.

i’d say pretty much all the dead men are bi (but skul and sar who r both pan) but i think that anton was gay :]

he has ptsd and autism and also an EXTREMELY high pain tolerance

the oldest dead men by quite a bit ! he’s 576 but looks to be about in his late 40s :p

he’s Vietnamese - which i actually thought was cannon for ages ive seen it too much hehe

it’s been noted that both him and saracen speak fluent french so i like the idea that him and sar travelled to france before going to Ireland and meeting the soon to be dead men !!

him and saracen are the brothers ever. introducing each other to someone and the person is left confused when anton (the 6’3 vampirewerewolf crossover drenched in a morticians attire addresses the short tan italian totally normal slightly insane looking guy as his brother (yes i hc saracen as italian haha) (and in case your interested! erskine in my hc is greek, ghastly and skul are irish, hopeless is slovakian and i haven’t decided where larr is from yet another :^))

his gun is called daisy because that was the name he used to call larrikin <3

also! he wears larrikins dog tags at all times with a small silver daisy pendant with an L etched on the back.

he’s a very good artist and enjoys watercolours and oil painting to calm himself when his gist is playing up

his music taste is very mixed. the smiths and lebanon hangover to Darkthrone and bathory. (he’s a Norwegian black + death metal enjoyer trust trust)

the more i reread the book the more i realise he was definitely more implied to be goth which is totally awesome 🙏

a little bit about him being part selkie if i may!! he has small fang on his bottom row of teeth and the two tiniest of scars on his upper lips where over the years he’s just chewed or accidentally bitten into them x3

also the idea of very thin flecks of grey hair around the edges of his face. idek how to describe it but like small almost fur strands from his selkie ancestry lolz

during the war antons default emotion was just anger. that’s cannon and i can understand that,,, i think that saracen and the other dead men (other than skulduggery which i will explain another time,,,,) really did help him through it

now after the war,,, he’s not as angry. he’s smouldering- sure. he’s always on the verge of just killing everything in sight and letting the gist take over but hey he has a brother to live for and friends and pet cats to tend to

YES HE HAS PET CATS!!!! dogs are too loud for him now. he prefers cats so much. helps not just his anger but his not so great mental health too.

also a note; him and the connections between werewolves open a part in my brain i didn’t know was there,,,, it just,,, it ,,,, yeah,,,,, its , good ,,, i cant really express it i like the idea a lot no doubts i actually really do like it. not that he is a werewolf??? but like connections with them and him i find unbelievable awesome

some mutliships i have for him too :ooo

anton x larrikin obviously <3

surprisingly i actually LOVE!!! erskine x anton,,, my favourite guys and these guys can KISS!!!!!

alsoooo i quite like hopeless x anton but i don’t really stand by it as much as i do for the other two :p

OK,,,, wow. i have said so much. i have TONS more to say about this silly guy i adore him so much. !! if i have anything to add later i will !!!! if YOU!!! have anything to add or feedback i’d love to hear it !!!!! ty for reading this utter yapping post!!!!!!

[httpslvr]

headcanons but theyre super random cuz im a little insane n on a tumblr kick tdy?? apparently??

• the blue eye markus got made him dyslexic. i cant explain where or why i have this hc, but its one of my faves. the rest of the jericrew + connor help him before meeting n stuff

• markus also has a rlly bad memory (the junkyard messed him up bro), so like 99% of his speeches r straight improv. that man has no clue whats coming out of his mouth

• connor looks like the nice one, but is rlly a reclusive asshole, whos a little catty. rk900/nines, on the other hand, has a rbf n kinda looks like a dick, but is rlly the nice one (ppl get that mixed up, n then r v confused y connor js rolls his eyes n ignores them, while nines apologizes) (sixty’s js a little shit regardless. looks n plays the part!!!!)

• connor n north r a horrible duo. they get themselves into shit that no one can figure out how they even got there in the first place. markus ends up w them while praying to god that he can get all three of their asses out of there before they all die

• connor n chloe dated for awhile, but broke up cuz she realized she was a lesbian LMAO

• north is a sap but ppl need to like rlly bring it out of her

all i can think of rn lol

[certifiedfantasyreader]

Nikobran give major girls-dad. And I'm glad we all collectively agree on that.

I see them with 3 beautiful triplets 😭🫶🏻.

Irina Sokolov-king ( or maybe kylie in honor of her grandfather)

Jasmine Sokolov- King ( In honor of her grandmother)

Jamie Sokolov- King ( In honor of her Grandfather)

.......

Irina the oldest of the triplet is somehow a mix of lan nd niko . She's definitely kind and generous to the people she cherish but wouldn't hesitate to give you hell for touching her family.

She's definitely narcissistic like her uncle Lan but not to the point of annoying.

She just knows she's that girl and everyone accepts it.

She's hella smart as well , like really smart. She's a women is STEM. And a worldwide famous figure skater.

She's also a bookworm. And is obsessed with pjo, HP.

She's kinda uncomfortable with the idea of relationship until she meets her person.

.......

Jasmine the middle child is full blown Niko. She's very violent and always angry when she doesn't get her way.

She's a very talented painter like her daddy. Almost everyone is in awe of her work. At how she can bring her paintings to life.

She's also a super fashionable girl. All her clothes are designer and custom made. Her sisters always tease her when she's dressed for the nine when they're just going to a simple hangouts.( she gets that from her aunty Maya)

She's kind of called a bully for telling people off when she's just being honest. She doesn't know the meaning of Sugarcoating and is similar to Irina in that department.

.........

Jamie the youngestis mini Brandon. Is the calm one of the bunch but with a RBF. Everyone is intimidated to approach her but once they get to know her she's the sweetest.

She's more reserved and quite than her sisters and is always observant.

She's a sketcher of all things. Give her a great pencil she'll sketch you in like an hour. ( She's freakishly talented) and is always approched by agents.

She's seen as the quite one yet She's always carefree with her sisters and parents.

She's absolutely terrified of any animals ,so much so that she's always fighting with Irina who's a lover of pets.

She's also really close to JerCes son ( X Volkov( name the kid)) to the point where they develop feelings for each other.

......

The triplets are attached at the hip and would never let anyone come between them.

They have annual hangouts every Thursday.

They have a special group hug whenever one sister accomplishs something , feeling down, or just in general.

Each sister have a favorite aunt and Uncle.

Irina: Lan and Maya ( she always admired how lans mind works , and she feels a deep connection to Maya since she was a kid and she doesn't even know why.)

Jas: Kill and Glyn ( She bonds with glyn over their shared love of painting and since killian wont separate from Glyn she doesn't have a choice but to be close with him as well, but ends up being really close.

Jamie: Jer and Ces ( She always loved the calmness they bring when they're around. Bonus point is that they become her in- laws😉)

Lan and Bran always admired they're closeness since they never got that.

Mia and Maya gets nostalgic when they see the sisters.

Lan always tells them to never hesitant to call him if anyone dared to upset them.

They're always surrounded by bodyguards to the point they beg Niko to down it down.

Niko never stressed or forced them with the obligations that comes with the Mafia world ( Arranged marriage )

They're super close to 4 grand parents. Kyle is their go to when they need some fun embarrassing stories abt niko.

Irina inherits her love of cooking from Brandon . It's their bonding time and will kick out the rest from the kitchen.

Overall they're one happy family.

..........

This are my imagination so please take this as a silly fic.

[lotsnlotsofsoup]

My submission for @drizzledrawings cowbian sona contest! (I hope I'm not late)

I have been incredibly busy all month so unfortunately, I will try my best to include all of the crucial information on my characters but I may forget some details, so I apologize for that!

Character on the left is named Nolan (or Nora) Meverden and character on the right is named Aiden Lupercio.

The cat drawing below is a bobcat and is Nolan's other form (While Aiden is just a normal human being)

To give some context, these are my oc's who already live in a western world inspired by rdr2 and I adjusted their backstory to fit the cowbian sona universe Also, there may be some historical inaccuracies btw!

Character Info:

Aiden:

Aiden:

I’ve never written a solid personality description of him before, so this may be edited a bit in the future. Still, if I were to describe him, he’s the kind of person that feels unapproachable because he doesn’t talk much (and tbh he probably has rbf lmao), but he’s generally pretty friendly. He wouldn’t mind having a spur of the moment conversation with a stranger. However, he usually doesn’t initiate out of safety concerns since many people discriminated heavily against Hispanics during that time. In other words, he’s definitely a social person, he’s just forced to be quiet because of his environment. Additionally, he’s a person who cares a lot about morals (which could somewhat be related to his religious background) and believes that a person’s actions in the present are the biggest indicator of their character, regardless of what they have done in the past. This ties into how he chooses to perceive minorities or other discriminated groups because he doesn’t like being told what to believe in; he wants to see for himself first in order to make that decision. 

Regarding his background, Aiden grew up in a gang with both of his parents, his father being the leader. His father is of European descent, while his mother is Hispanic, which makes him mixed.

Fortunately for Aiden, his father is educated, so he had the luxury of being able to read and write English. Unfortunately, his father believed strongly in Eurocentrism, saw no value in his ability to learn how to converse in Spanish, and ultimately wanted him to reject his Latino heritage, which is why he doesn’t have a Spanish first name. Despite this, Aiden’s mother wanted him to learn Spanish despite being berated by her husband. English is the primary language he speaks, but his mother still managed to teach him Spanish while he was growing up.

Regarding his personality again, although he grew accustomed to the life of crime, it was petty crimes that he didn't mind, while more serious acts of violence are what bothered him about being in the gang. He also felt like he couldn’t really share these concerns with his father since he’d end up lecturing him and dismissing his emotions, telling him that “In this world it’s either you or them” and that if he were to care about every person he killed or hesitated pulling the trigger on someone then he wouldn’t be alive right now in the first place. His father strongly lived by “you don’t regret what you’ve done, you just keep on moving forward,” though Aiden never agreed with his take on the statement since he didn't act like he regretted any of his actions, especially when he was wrong. These smaller moments of indifference caused Aiden to silently despise his father. He felt that his lack of empathy for others caused him not to view his son as a person but rather as an asset to the gang. Having more people who could be of use benefited the gang's survival, and to be able to survive in the later Western era meant that every little thing counted. He didn't care about the means it took for the gang to survive, which ultimately became one of Aiden's tipping points in leaving the gang, but before I get to that, I need to introduce another character (not featured).

When Aiden was young, a new member was introduced to the gang, and he became close friends with him. He was the kind of friend Aiden felt he could truly express himself with when he couldn’t around his father. As they got older, Aiden learned that his friend was a shapeshifter, but promised to keep his secret and not tell the other gang members. As his friend got older though, it became harder for him to hide his ability, and the gang ended up finding out. Aiden’s father, without hesitation, decided to kill him on the spot. When Aiden witnessed this, he was devastated but immediately became furious at his father. That was the last straw for him. Aiden's father tried to reason with him, telling him that having a shapeshifter in a gang would cause more harm than good, but Aiden wouldn't listen. Aiden decided that he’d finally leave the gang so that he’d no longer have a part in merciless killing as he saw it. He packed up his stuff so that he could leave the next morning.

Aiden tried to convince his mother to leave with him, but she refused. Unlike his relationship with his father, he did truly care for his mother, who in reality, felt like the only parent he had. Since she was an older woman, they both knew that the likelihood of her being able to survive on her own with her son was slim, so she said her last goodbyes and asked him to write letters to her so that she knew he was still okay. Also, she gave him a blue handkerchief, which he wears around his neck as a memento to remember her by.

Now that Aiden was alone, he needed to make a living, but committing petty crime in rural areas was barely enough for him to survive, (he didn’t like going to more developed areas because the racism was likely worse there) and he refused to resort to his father’s methods, such as breaking into people’s homes and gunning them down. He eventually discovered bounty hunting and decided to become a bounty hunter to spite his father. He also needed to pay for the bounty he had since living with the gang put a substantial price on his head.

Nora/Nolan:

I’m going to be transparent with you guys, I haven’t nearly thought about her backstory as much as Aiden’s so I don’t have a ton written, but heres her WIP backstory.

Nora is similar to Aiden in the sense that they are both quiet, except when given the opportunity to talk, she doesn’t really have much to say and likes to keep her thoughts to herself. She's a big listener and would rather go with the flow than get out of line to prevent conflict, yet she is also a very free-spirited person and likes to do things her own way, which is why she’s pretty independent. 

For the most part, Nora has never shared too much about her past, other than the fact that for some of her life, she grew up in a Christian orphanage where she struggled to hide her identity and was forced to leave to not get found out. She didn’t spend all of her life in an orphanage, though. At one point, she did live with her family, who were well off, but was forced to leave due to undisclosed reasons, which is why she ended up staying at orphanages for the latter half of her youth. Eventually, she left, but it was no surprise that trying to make a living on her own, especially since she is a woman and a shifter, was far from easy. Not wanting to become a working girl, she ended up committing petty crimes to try and make a living. She soon realized that if she wanted to strengthen her chances of survival and face less discrimination, she would need to present herself as a boy. This is why she often goes by the pseudonym Nolan and dresses more masculine. Over time, she became decently skilled at pickpocketing people and started raising the stakes by traveling to more urban areas where the pickings were worth much more. Although resorting to crime did help make ends meet, it also got her a large bounty, which caused her to spend more time in rural areas to evade bounty hunters. She eventually tried to rely on her shapeshifting ability to catch animals to sell and sometimes even used her ability to scare travelers on horseback to try and snatch their supplies. However, she did this sparingly due to the risk. Additionally, she is knowledgeable in herbalism and travels frequently to avoid being found.

I think that it’s important to note that, unlike Aiden, who has a general idea of what he’d like to do in his life and who he is, Nora struggles much more with this. She feels much more lost and is still trying to figure out her “place” in this world. As a result, this can cause her to act on what she wants in the moment, and she is very emotionally driven, which can definitely create problems for her in the future. Aiden also conflicts with her in this aspect since he values long-term results over short-term.

How their stories intertwine:

One day, when Aiden is in a small town, he catches sight of a bounty poster of a young boy with ginger hair and decides to hunt him down.

He eventually finds Nolan and tries to drag her back to the town's jail since he avoids killing as much as possible, but Aiden realizes that Nolan had gathered rather expensive pickings and a decent amount of cash she was holding onto (since some places weren’t willing to purchase certain stolen goods or didn’t want to pay nearly what they were worth) and decides to question Nolan about it. Nora doesn’t pickpocket in urban areas as much anymore since she mainly relies on hunting now in her bobcat form, but she obviously can’t disclose this. She realizes that due to his interest in how her schemes worked, she could use this moment to her advantage and tells him about how she’s a "skilled" pick pocketer (who is good at stealing things, just isn’t the greatest at not getting caught, lol)  and tries to convince him to team up with her instead of turning her in so that he could get a share of her earnings. Although Aiden doesn't trust Nolan at all, he's been struggling to live on his own, and being a bounty hunter is, in fact, a risky job. Also, since they’re both on the run, getting rid of their bounties is important to both of them.

In the end, he decides to give her a chance since she could really benefit him. Although they’re really distant at first since Aiden has practically zero trust in her, over time, they grow to become good friends and a great team :-) They definitely had plenty of arguments at first but over time they learn to complement each other’s traits.

Aiden does end up finding out that Nolan is a shape shifter, but due to his past, he doesn't really care and knows Nolan and his old best friend were anything but what people stereotyped shifters to be. Also, Aiden likely found out that Nora is a bobcat/shifter because she tried to protect him once when he was about to get attacked from a wild animal. She ended up getting hurt, so Aiden had to help tend to her wounds for a couple of days until she got better.

After this incident, Nolan decided to come clean and share the truth of her identity with Aiden as well. in the first month-ish(?) of them getting to know each other, he was pretty clueless about her being a girl, which is why he just called her boah or boy for the longest time (and still does since the nickname stuck). He was a bit surprised at first, but he didn't really care and essentially chose to accept her for who she is. Just to clarify, Nora is a woman; she simply chooses to dress more masculine (for the time) and doesn’t care if others refer to her with masculine terms. 

Why a bobcat?

I chose for Nolan to be a bobcat because they have very similar temperaments.

Bobcats are independent animals that prefer to be alone and don’t often attack people, so I thought it was fitting because Nolan likes to avoid violence as much as possible unless necessary and she also likes to be alone.

Anyway, this was a bit rushed since I'm writing this right this moment, but I hope you enjoyed the summary so far! I might change some of the story, and it will definitely be more developed in the future. If you're interested in learning about them more, I'll definitely be planning to post about them :-)

Thanks for reading!

[mintaikkcorpse]

Pros of having both your parents work at the same school you go to

You have the same schedules so you don't have to wait for a bus and can go home right after school

If I don't feel like eating lunch or the library is closed, I can just go to my dad's classroom

Easier time bringing up problems bcuz I got two teachers backing me up

Hehehe I get to eavesdrop on their gossip about teachers

Teachers automatically like me bcuz they like my parents

A bunch of kids now know me and are nice to me bcuz they like my parents

Hahaha my parents bring me food from the teacher's lounge

My dad can bring me food on his lunch breaks if I don't like the school food :)

I can ask them what the kids think of me (apparently they all think I'm "intimidating" bcuz I constantly look annoyed, and don't talk much, which I find interesting, bcuz I just have RBF and don't talk much bcuz crippling social anxiety)

Cons about having your parents work at the same school you do

You literally look like a clone of your mother and now you're constantly being asked, "Is that your mom?" (My mom got sick of it so when people ask if I'm her kid, she's says, "No, I look nothing like them," while literally just looking like me but with brown eyes and a different hair cut).

Your dad tells his class about you and now I have random kids I've never met in my life saying hi to me in the hallway (I said it as a pro but it's also a con bcuz I'm very socially awkward and it catches my dissasociating ass off guard)

"You look just like your mother!"

I think people believe that teens are constantly embarrassed by their parents, but I think I've embarrassed my mom a lot more than she's embarrassed me. One time I asked if that was her shitty coworker out in public and she got quiet a few looks (she was very shitty though. Racist piece of shit that literally GLARED at me when I first said hi to her 💀). So I guess that's a con for my mom lol

If the teacher's don't like my parents, they take it out on ME (what did I ever do to you shitty Shannon? I said hi to you once, and you straight up GLARED at me. Before you ask, yes, it IS personal. Why you gotta be shitty to me and my mom? Also, you're a bad teacher, and the special Ed kids hate you, and I dont even know why you teach special ed if you're just gonna be shitty about it to them)

Overall, mixed experience and I don't like it when shows or movies play it as embarrassing, bcuz it's really not. Most of the shit is just how other people react to it, lol, and I think the pros outweigh the cons.

Also, again, fuck you Shannon.

[amordei-k]

i really wonder about the sexual dimorphism of hedgehogs in the sonic series overall (NOT DISCOURSE, THIS IS ME YAPPING) (archie comics are SLIGHTLY considered)

there aren't many hedgehog characters in modern sonic media, so this is very open-minded.

i mean, the two hedgehogs usually compared when "boy vs girl" comes up are sonic and amy.

although there aren't many differences in older media other than color, in modern media, amy has a shorter snout than sonic (in real life, however, males have shorter snouts than females). the obvious is the eyelashes--though most female sonic characters have eyelashes anyway, so it doesn't count as much. they also have different body types, once again, more of a universally female sonic characters trait that amy has.

BUT if you compare amy to shadow or silver, you'll see more differences

chest fur, eyeliner, and arms that are the same color as their furs. not to mention, the little furrowed brow thingy they have.

now, compare that to sonic, and you only have a few aspects that they share with sonic. out of them, modern sonic only retains the furrowed brow. even then, you can't call that a male trait without having another trans female character: breezie

now, it may seem like I'm just pulling characters out of my ass here (which, i pretty much am), but this could just mean it's a facial expression or the hedgehog equivalent to RBF. you could take this out by saying the archie comics aren't canon, so this doesn't hold as much value to the other points in here.

there IS another female character with tan arms, though

bernadette the hedgehog, sonic's mother. she has tan arms and a short snout, but sonic's dad also has tan arms.

he has tan arms and also doesn't have a brow thing. once again, those examples don't give much proof for sexual dimorphism, since those aspects could be taken as genetics. even then, most of their appearances were in archie comics, so it can't be taken seriously either.

some characters we probably can't take any more seriously are sonia and manic. if you look closely, you'll find that sonia DOESN’T have tan arms, but manic does. once again, can't be taken too seriously; not canon

if we compare more modern content into the mix, such as boom, it gets a little more interesting.

amy has tan arms, but sonic doesn't? his arms match more with shadow and silver with that factor and divides obvious physical aspects easier. amy still has the shorter snout, though.

if they are just fur colorings by random, then it should mean that they shouldn't be included very often throughout the series, in which they aren't very common. very few sonic characters have different arm colorings from their fur colorings, which could make this more of a hedgehog-exclusive feature.

just going by game canon, excluding archie, boom, and underground, on paper, it does look like sonic has more female trait than male traits, but overall:

males have longer snouts (not in real life once again; females have longer snouts)

females have more """""feminine""""" body types

females have eyelashes

the common answer could just be that hedgehogs don't really divide stuff by gender/are just intersex or something. go wild. it's sonic the fucking hedgehog. who am i to say stuff. im some guy on the internet

now!! all of this is NOT serious in the slightest and is just me typing shit from my brain!! thanks

[youremyheaven]

I wonder what kind of relationships people have with those who share their DK

///

hehe my turn to shine hereeee

so my mom has saturn dk (she’s a vishakha sun) and my dad’s a mix of sharvana and purva phalguni so basically her type.

when i tell you this man will never tolerate ANY a disrespect of her, she’s kinda like the only person who has him wrapped around her finger (this was me as a kid but like i was chonky so reasonable). he’s very quiet and doesn’t show much emotions lol typical saturnian man

we’re very lucky that both my parents have great jobs and my dad’s a smarty with his investments so he really has the rbf (doesn’t help that he’s tall) and my mom has the uniform type of looks

AND I KNOWWW saturn dk’s have the whole “your spouse won’t be very handsome etc etc” i think it’s the opposite! they also age well so damn anyone with a saturn dk y’all got the good stuff (while i sit with my mars dk 😀)

Mom lucked out with a caring husband who'll always stand up for her ✨

I actually haven't heard of Saturn DK giving handsome husband's 😶 but I've heard a lot about how Saturnians/Saturn DKs taking more time to grow into their looks and being late bloomers. They get better with age basically

Mars DK 🤧🥲 sounds .... interesting.....

How's it going so far? 👀 Do you like Martians?