#(shh my little secret headcanon)

[allthesmutl0vers]

Smutty Harry Potter Headcanons (F! Reader)

MDNI. 18+. Heavy Smut.

Requests Are Open- Please Send Requests

Request: Not a request, just drabble.

Summary: How the characters would react to you teasing them while wearing a short skirt.

Pairings: Harry Potter/F!Reader, Ron Weasley/F!Reader, George Weasley/F!Reader, Fred Weasley/F!Reader, Draco Malfoy/F!Reader.

TW: Smut, Sexual References, Fingering, Oral (M! and F! receiving), Dom/Sub Relationships, Edging, Primal Play, Choking, Claiming, Hair Pulling. (No use of Y/N)

Smut Below⬇️🌶️

Harry Potter

You’ve been teasing Harry all day, bending over just enough to barely give him a peak of the apex of your thighs. When he finally manages to corner you in the hallway, he pulls you into an empty classroom with a hand covering your mouth. 

“Shh, don’t want to go giving our secret away now, do you?” Harry chuckles darkly as his hand roams under the front of your skirt as he clutches you tightly from behind. “Mm-mm,” you shake your head, unable to speak under his hand. Harry groans as his fingers pull your panties to the side, slipping a finger between your folds and circling your clit. “So wet for me. Does teasing me get you off, little doe?” he whispers in your ear. You nod against his hand as he slips a finger in your entrance. “Then bend over the desk and spread your pretty thighs for me so I can give you what you’re so desperate for.”

Harry eats you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking and licking your clit, drawing out whimpers that, to anyone else, would make them think you’re dying. And in a sense, you are. The way he thrusts his fingers inside of you as he laps at your clit could send you to heaven or drag you to hell. Either way, you’re just praying he doesn’t stop.

Ron Weasley

Ron acts shy around others, but you know just how possessive he can be. And you intend to draw it out any way you can. You know how much he equally hates and loves your silk tennis skirt. He’s told you countless times never to wear it without tights to prevent anyone else from catching a glimpse at what’s his. So when you saunter down the stairs and sit on his lap with fishnets underneath it, you know you’re in for it. Good thing nobody is home at the burrow for the moment. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks as you sit down on his lap, facing the fireplace. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, giving him the best innocent look you can as his hands grip your thighs. “Nothing at all,” you respond with a smirk. “Did you forget the rule for this skirt already, angel?” Ron teases. “You know not to wear this without stockings,” Ron warns you. “I’m wearing stockings,” You smile smugly. Ron chuckles darkly, and you know you have him right where you want him. But what you don’t expect is for Ron to reach under your skirt and rip your fishnets apart at your crotch. You let out a soft gasp as his hand cups your pussy. “Ron…” You whine. “My stockings,” Ron chuckles as his free hand wraps itself in your hair and pulls your head back to his shoulder. “Pathetic excuse for stockings,” he taunts as he thrusts two fingers into your entrance. “Now cum on my fingers, angel, and maybe I’ll buy you new ones.”

Ron isn’t gentle as he brings you right up to the edge and throws you over. Over. And over. And over again until you’re begging him to have mercy on you. But you knew what you were getting yourself into when you flaunted yourself in front of him, as he not so gently reminds you. Only when you’re a shaky, sweaty, whimpering mess does he finally withdraw his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking your cum off of his fingers and demanding you to change before his brothers get back. Because god forbid anyone else see the mess he turns you into.

George Weasley

George is always the life of the party. Especially when Gryffindor wins a quidditch match like they did today. It’s also a surefire way to know you are going to get a reward for being his favorite cheerleader. You grind your ass against his crotch as you dance and drink, feeling him growing harder under his pants. You know how much he loves when you dress a little slutty. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about other people looking because he made damn sure to ruin sex with anyone else. You bend over slightly, arching your back as you grind against him during an especially sultry part of the song. When he can’t take the teasing anymore, he drags you to his dorm, locking it and slamming you against the door as he smashes his lips to yours. 

“Merlin, woman. You drive me crazy,” he groans as he lifts your skirt. “Almost as crazy as this sweet pussy makes me,” he groans, kneeling in front of you and keeping you pressed against his door. He rips your panties down and makes you let out a loud gasp as he shoves his face between your thighs and licks a long swipe between your folds. “Georgie,” you moan as your eyes roll back and you grip his hair. George hums against your clit, sending a heavenly vibration right to your clit, bringing you right to the edge. You whimper at the loss of his tongue when he pulls back and stands up, licking your juices from his lips. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He taunts with a smirk as he pulls down his pants and kicks them off to the side. You nod and moan as he lifts your leg, and his tip pushes against your entrance. “Fuck, yes,” you moan as he thrusts inside of you, your eyes rolling back as his cock stretches you and hits that perfect spot inside. “Give me your eyes,” he moans as he pulls back and thrusts inside of you harder. You pull your hooded gaze to his eyes as he grips your leg harder. “That’s it, baby. Look at me as I bury my cock inside of you,” he pants. “Such a good girl.”

After he makes you cum, he lifts you without withdrawing his cock, sets you on his desk, and fucks you harder. You moan, practically scream, making him cover your mouth. As much as he loves to hear you scream, he loves to show what’s his, but nobody is allowed to hear the sounds you make when he makes you shatter around him two, three, four times. What he does like people to see? How you struggle to walk, let alone dance when you return back to the party.

Fred Weasley

Nobody can make detention fun. Nobody besides Fred, at least. You swear, sometimes you and he try to get detention in the forbidden forest just to get the chance to be chased around in the dark and plowed against the nearest tree once he catches you, and he always does. Tonight, you decided to make the punishment when he catches you even harder on yourself, wearing the shortest skirt in your wardrobe to tease him with on the walk down. Running through the woods, you wonder when he’ll catch you. He does every time, and this time is no different. But he’s extra rough on you tonight as he plows into you without mercy. 

Fred grunts as he holds your legs up, plowing into you as you clutch his shoulders. “Look what a pretty mess you are for me,” he moans as he thrusts into you again; you could swear his cock is ramming into your cervix with how deep it is. “Who’s pussy is this? Tell me, little one,” he moans as he grips your thighs with a bruising grip. “Yours,” you moan loudly. “Fuck, Freddie, it’s all yours,” you cry out. Fred moans as he brings you both right to the edge. He shifts, freeing one of his hands, and brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. “Goddamn right, it’s mine. Now I want your screams. Give them to me, baby,” he moans as you clutch his robes. “Give me your screams as you cum on my cock,” he demands. His filthy words and the merciless way he fucks you send you right over the edge with him.

But he’s not nearly done with you yet; the night is young. He pulls you to your knees, shoves his cock into your mouth, and fucks your throat because that’s his, too. You love hearing him claim you, every part of you, as he takes you any and everywhere. After cumming down your throat, he makes you ride him, cumming inside of you again before he has finally had his fill, and you two can look for whatever thing you were supposed to find in this goddamn forest.

Draco Malfoy

Draco loves to fuck you before his quidditch matches and loves to know you’re dripping his cum as you watch and cheer for him from the stands. Today is no different besides the fact you’ve been teasing him all morning, bending over and twirling in the skirt he told you a million times to throw out, buying you new ones, but you can’t help how much it gets you off when he takes possession of you, jinxing anyone who dares to try to sneak a peek. Normally, he would take you to his dorm to fuck you before his game, taking his time and blocking anyone from hearing you with an enchantment. But not today. Today, he fucks you in the locker room, making you scream as he spears you with his cock after he comes down your throat. If you want to show off what’s his, he’ll make you show them just how good he makes you feel. 

“That’s it, princess,” he moans as he fucks you from behind, pinning your arms behind your back as you’re bent over the bench. “Let them hear just how much you love my cock buried in your tight pussy,” he demands, gripping your hair and pulling your head back with his free hand. A scream tears through your throat as your walls clench around his cock. “Fuck, yes! I love it!” you cry as mascara runs down your face. “What’s my fucking name?” He growls, releasing your hair to land a sharp swat on your ass. “Draco!” You cry as your ass stings, only serving to make you wetter. He pulls out to the tip and thrusts into you harder. “And who do you belong to?!” He taunts, making you whimper. “Fucking answer me,” he demands, swatting your ass again. “D-Draco!” you scream as your legs begin to shake and the tether winding tighter inside your core threatens to snap. Draco groans and tilts his head back. Normally, he’d kill someone for hearing your screams that are only meant for him, but right now, he’d have you scream in front of a microphone for the entire wizarding world to hear just how good he makes you feel. That he’s the only one who makes you feel so good. He flips you over, laying you down on the bench and thrusting back into you without remorse. “So pretty when you cry for me,” he taunts as he smudges the mascara running down your face before gripping your throat. “Now give me what I want,” he demands with dark, hooded eyes. You feel your walls clench around his throbbing cock as your back arches, and you grip the bench above your head. A scream tears through your throat as your whole body shakes, your orgasm ripping through you like a hurricane.

People stare at you, some whispering behind your back as you sit in the stands, watching Draco play. Any sensible person would be embarrassed that people heard them get fucking plowed and now have their boyfriend's cum dripping from their body, but not you. Maybe you two need to find some people who like to listen, maybe even watch, but certainly not touch. A shudder runs through you as you think about what Draco would do if someone tried to touch you while he was fucking you. You clench your thighs at the thought, would he kill them? Maybe. Maybe you should find out. God, what has he turned you into?

[hopesangelsprite]

Ken Sato HCs

(This man is too fine omg-)

Summary: Just a list of fluffy and filthy headcanons <3

Super, incredibly bratty like omfg 💀

Won't hesitate to tease you in public (bonus points if paparazzi's there lol)

Loves to see you get flustered, thinks it's the 2nd cutest thing in the world next to Emi ofc

Uses "And what about it?", "What're you gonna do if I don't?" and "Make me." on the regular bc he knows you can't 😭

Absolutely adores when you spend time with Emi and him, makes him get all melty and dad like

Refers to you as Mama both in and out of Emi's presence, knows it makes you flustered and loves it

"Look, Emi! Mama's here!!", "C'mon, Mama, don't be like that~"

Other petnames for you: Baby, Babe, Sweet Thing, Honey

Told you he was Ultraman on like the 3rd/4th date bc he wanted no secrets between the two of you

This man was locked in from the start-

Valentines' day? Bro bought you heaps of designer clothes/jewelry

HAD TO TALK HIM DOWN FROM GIVING YOU ONE OF HIS SPORTS CARS

He loves so deeply but can be very shy about some things like opening up and being vulnerable

Once Emi got used to you, he bought you slippers, toiletries, etc. for his house immediately

Wants you around all the time, thinks everything about you is so cute and perfect and omg-

Loves back hugs, giving and receiving

Gets jealous easily and is very pouty when he is

It's literally the cutest thing omg

Did I mention he loves back hugs? He really loves back hugs-

NECK KISSES NECK KISSES NECK KISSES

His neck is incredibly sensitive so neck kisses are a guaranteed ticket to pound town-

Very handsy, very VERY sneaky

Waist grabbing? Yup. Will he hide his hands after smacking your ass as if it wasn't him when it's literally just the two of you in the room? Also yes.

Isn't a boob man: confirmed

His hands are huge and he knows how to use them-

First time you hook up you think he invented fingering bc damn

Skilled when it comes to making you cum multiple times

KEN SATO IS A PLEASURE DOM AND THAT'S THAT!

Loves it when you whimper and beg, thinks it's so adorable

Coaches you through it, praises praises praises praises praises-

"Shh shh, it's okay, I've got you.", "Just a little bit more- there we go just like that.", "I know it feels good but you gotta stay still for me, Mama.", "Ah ah ah, I know you can give me one more."

Keeps his hedge trimmed iykwim

Is gifted and very cocky about it (no pun intended... ok maybe a little)

He's a good 7-9 in. at minimum, very veiny, above average girth

Finds your spot as soon as he's in and uses it until you can't breathe or think properly

Vocal. Ken Sato is very vocal.

Moans, groans, grunts, sighs, hissing, panting- the list goes on

Adores when you're vocal too, has a thing about hearing how good he's making you feel, likes seeing it in the form of tears

Back scratching enthusiast, makes sure you've got a fresh set specifically so he can see the damage they cause in the morning

Please pull his hair, makes him all weak inside

Prefers longer, deeper strokes bc intimacy but won't hesitate fuck like a madman

Refuses to cum anywhere but inside you, he's a family man what can I say 🤷🏿‍♀️

Overall rating: 10000000000000/10, will definitely hit again bc his libido is absolute insanity

Ken Sato is perfect husband and father material; with that I rest my case.

[azullumi]

“there’s so many fishes in the sea but i never learned how to swim” ; aventurine

summary — a guide to pining presented by yours truly, aventurine.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, secret pining but like aventurine can be too obvious, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

tagging — @toorurs (sorry boo i forgot to tag 😭)

note — i know i could have done better with this one, my brain wasn’t just working and im also on a trip. this is day 6 and 7 of writing for him until i get him !!

Aventurine yearns for connection yet he erects tall walls of self-preservation, fearing vulnerability, attachment, and betrayals (the shadow of his fear of losing someone dear to him all over again will haunt and follow his steps). He’s always distant, seemingly detached to the people around him like a leaf that never touches the ground as the wind carries it away; his only drive for relationships is due to mutual-benefit or a give-and-take situation. So what happens to him when he falls and yearns for someone?

Love is violence, he knows that but his eyes would stumble after your shadow and he wonders what it feels like to live in it. He’ll lie under your gaze and he’ll dream what it feels like to be seen, what it feels like to be loved by you. He will seek ways to be close to you but not close enough that you’ll know the rhythm of his heart spells out the letters of your name. In each moment of longing, it is all tinged with a taste of bitterness as this yearning, though desired, is a precarious precipice—everything will crumble and fall once he speaks about it.

So he settles with stolen looks with wishful thinking that you’ll cast a glance at his direction, he settles with the small things at first before he begins to become selfish—he’ll make up reasons just to see and talk to you, think of excuses just so he could linger a little longer in your presence. He’ll make up games and initiates bets where he knows he’ll always win but would let himself lose anyways; winning or losing didn’t matter to him in those moments with you.

“Go ahead, guess.”

You fell into a deep thought, staring at the two hands balled into fist that are in front of you. Your eyebrows were scrunched, trying to listen to the voice of your instinct but everything was silent inside your head.

“Take your time. After all, whoever loses has to follow what the winner wants.” Aventurine spoke and you could discern the hint of amusement in his tone as he watched you fall into some sort of predicament—all you had to do was to choose which one of his hands was the coin in. It was just one of the simple games you’ll play with him every time you see each other. Come to think of it, his visits to your department have been quite frequent despite having no particular business, official or not.

“Shh. I’m thinking.” You answer, lifting your index finger to your mouth in a hush gesture. It took you a few moments of silence and thoughtful humming before you pointed at his left hand, “That one.”

But he opens his left hand to show nothing on his palm, his right hand revealing the coin at the same time, and you are hit with a wave of disappointment. A chuckle slips past his lips and you just sighed—there was nothing you could do but to admit defeat. “Well then, what do you want me to do?”

Aventurine, without a single second of hesitation, answered. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

The thing is you could have laid yourself bare to him, you could tell him all of the sins that taint your skin, the words left unspoken in your mouth, the growing mold in your lungs. He’ll see the rot and will choose to stay, he’ll see the cobwebs and dusty bookshelves, and he’ll love you still, he’ll see the torn wallpapers and ruined floors and he’ll still adore you (he’ll find you where you are most ruined and he will love you there).

(His hand would gently tug and hold at the cuffs of your sleeves, letting the warmth and closeness of his touch linger in hopes that you’ll see him in the sun that holds you gently.)

Many people claim that they love you but do they adore you the same way as he does? Would they cross bridges for you when he’ll swim oceans just to see the way your eyes catch the light? Would they traverse the stars just to listen to the sound of your laughter? 

(He’ll see the dirt in your hands and will help you wash it off when others would simply walk away.)

He’ll think of you as he laid in his bed, satin sheets all wrinkled and messy as his pillows scattered around his form, and he wondered how nice it would be to have your things among his. to have the smell of your perfume mixed with his, to have you in his arms before he sleeps (he has dreams of his dreams and you’re always in it).

All this yearning, longing, and adoration will turn into a sword that will make him bleed the more he holds on to it and you’ll stay in his thoughts as the blood will run dry on his being. He simply hopes he crosses your mind once in a while so that he won’t feel pathetic for thinking of you all the time.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

Based mainly on how shy he is off stage, and the stranglehold Mammon probably had on his social life, it's my headcanon that Ozz is the only person Fizz has slept with.

And that it took all of like three sessions for Fizz to go from timid in bed to the horniest, kinkiest little freak in all seven rings to the point that Ozz has trouble keeping up with him sometimes.

Their first time would have been sweet and gentle and tender while Ozzie shows him how good his body can feel. The second would have been enthusiastic with Fizz getting more confidence.

The third would have been Fizz pulling out this list of stuff he wants to try like "I want you to pretend I broke into your palace to steal The Source Of Your Horny and when you catch me you drag me to your dungeon to torture out the secrets of who hired me, using the following methods: Tickle torture, hot wax, an upside down strangle wank while I'm tied to one of those Tesla coils that plays the theme song to Countdown while I get zapped, a-"

"Hold up. The Source of my Horny?"

"Shh, save all questions to the end. Dammit, where was I? Oh! Right! Now, this one is open for negotiation, but do you think you could tie my arms and legs up in a big knot and bounce me on your dick like a beach ball?"

"... I was just going to suggest introducing a little light bum smacking if you were up for it."

"You opened the flood gates, babe. Now shove this ball gag in my mouth and call me Kitten."

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

short but chaotic Nimona headcanons

One time the boys were going through their baby pictures and laughing

And Nimona let it slip that she doesn’t have any baby pictures cause she was never a baby 

The boys being dramatic sappy dorks plan a whole day where they take stupid family photos 

And Bal being the most dramatic sentimental dork of all even goes as far as photoshopping Nimona into some of their old photos 

These photos were just supposed to be a cute little inside joke that they framed in their living room they never expected anyone to see them

But as time goes on and they make more friends people see those photos and draw their own conclusions 

And maybe Bal is incredible with Photoshop or maybe no one in the kingdom has critical thinking skills because people start to believe Bal and Ambrosius raised Nimona

There is a tw*tter thread of them commending Bal and Ambrosius for training to be knights and saving the day all while raising a child

Someone was talking to Nimona and congratulated her on being so brave

And Nimona was like “Oh you mean the battle with the director?” the person goes "Well yeah that too but I was also talking about your parent's split divorce can be so messy"

Most people know this is just a long drawn out joke that the trio doesn’t have the willpower to debunk

And some people are out here defending this story posting shit like “No a friend of a friend was at the institute at the same time and saw them with Nimona” 

The trio thinks it's fucking hilarious so they never bother to comment on it

In fact they didn't correct anyone until Nimona told the real story of Gloreth’s “Monster”

And they were really dragging their feet on telling people not because they were afraid of the backlash but because they knew the teen parent stories would stop 

Everyone is fully convinced that Ambrosius is the best secret keeper of all time 

He’s fucking not 

He’s a gossipy little bitch but the people who he gossips with are the real vaults 

Whenever he wants to gossip he'll talk to Nimona

And Nimona always drops his gossip onto Bal because he knows Bal will tell Ambrosius  

Bal usually doesn’t gossip but if Ambrosius asks him “What’s on your mind love?” more than once he’s an open book 

But the gossip never leaves their little trio no matter what 

Whenever the trio gets bored like on errand days or long car rides they’ll play a little game 

Basically they compare people they know to random objects or animals 

And they win depending on how accurate the object is or if it makes the other two laugh

Some of the accurate wins were Ambrosius pointing at a wet cat and commenting that it reminded him of Bal, Bal pointing at dog shit and saying “Look it’s Todd”, and Nimona asking “When did the director come back to life?” while pointing at flaming garbage 

And then there are the other answers like when Bal pointed at the air and said “Mom” Ambrosius just turns to him and goes “Bal you didn’t know your mom” and he just goes “Yeah that’s what she looks like in my mind” 

Or Ambrosius pointed at a cemetery and exclaimed “Mom!” And Bal goes “Love your Moms alive” and all he says is “Shh Bal let me manifest” 

[whole-circus]

Jeff The Killer NSWF Headcanons/Imagines x gn.reader!

➥ sorry i just can't get enough of this silly, pretty boy! I tried to make it gender natural, but the genitalias are mentioned!

its my first work,, sory if its bad please dont bully me or i will cry hehe, also english is not my first language! :3

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☆ He is either really, really rough or a sweet and loving partner when it comes to sex stuff and you can't tell me otherwise..

Just imagine him coming back all tired, bloody and sweaty, just to see you - his sweet, innocent angel..oh my he need to ruin you. His pants literally drops down the second he sees you! All he need after a long and bad day is to get buried in your pretty neck AND your warm, tight hole ;3

☆ Rough sex is well.. rough with him

Now you better get down on your knees when you see him having a bad day. Before you will know it, you will get his huge cock hitting the end of your deep throat. As he seats down, his legs all spread out, cigarette in his mouth and partner in between his legs..oh god he loves having you as his dumb fuck-toy..

When you lay down, tears in your eyes and begging him to stop becasue you are to sensitive and can't take it anymore, as his huge dick so deep in your tight hole making you feel all full...he will just mock you, whispering, almost laughing into your ear with his lustful, deep voice : ,,What's the matter? You cant take it anymore..?..And do i look like I give a fuck? Now be a good pet for your master and let him fuck you silly.."

He would be really into knife kink and blood kink! If you would let him give you a small cuts on your soft flesh.. he would be in love with that idea! Not only its a sign of dominance but also of trust. But if you are not okay with that? No worries.. he has other things planned for you! Spanking, pet-pay (oh he would make you wear a collar with his name..), degradation, humiliation, bondage, a bit of BDSM? You are his slut, needy bitch and a fuck-toy..his silly pet he can jus use!.. man he is not scared to get messy and rough, he just want to see you all dumb and weak from his cock!

☆ But when Jeff is in a good mood? ..Well good for you.!

Sex with him can turn into all cuddly and lovely love making session. The one that will leave you with love marks, but also this warm feeling inside your tummy - not in kinky way lol. Just imagine you laying down, in eachothers arms, as he gently thrusts into you, scared that you will fall apart - after all his good dolly is so so delicate.. and you deserve all the best! Him giving you sweet, little kissess all over your chest, neck and face as you whimper and moan under him... you will break him with all this cute noises! ,,Shh bunny.. You can feel how deep I am? Does that feel good sweetheart..? You are so good for me baby.." - he gently asks, his voice and eyes full of love and pure joy.

At the times like this he loves praising you (and I will tell you a secret - please do the same for him!! He will literally melt!!). He will use a lot of pet-names, like bunny, dolly, baby and sweetheart! Oh, he just want to be so so so close to you.. just to make you feel good a happy!

☆ Sorry but he is totally this kind of a guy to talk about your sexual life with others..

Just imagine him bragging about how good he can make you feel.. He is a possesive and jealous partner so he likes to show that only him can do all this unholy things to you. Walls are thin and you never know..! Or i bet that he has your nudes or softs in his wallet - not saying anything about his phone. There are days when "accidentally" they slips when he is out with his friends.. ,,Oh yes, its my S/O..arent they cute like this?" - he would say with mischievous grin. After all you are only his, others cant touch you..they cant even dream about you!

☆ Also a pantie thieft!!

Have you noticed that your underwear disappears? No worries, its not your or your washing machine fault! He would absolutely steal your underwear - clean or not, doesnt matter. Just the thought of him jacking off, unable to get your help for some reason..and just cumming all over in your panties when sweet, desperate moans left his mouth! Or he would absolutely sniff your underwear. Panties by his nose, hand on his hard, throbbing cock as he please himslef..I bet he would love to do that in your room, especially in your bed when you are unaware!

☆ Watching you masturbation..

Hear me out : you, all alone in your room masturbating, as Jeff walks in!

He would make you masturbate in front of him. He would look at you with his lustful, predatory eyes as you touch yourself..

He watches as your pretty fingers are gently massaging your clit..fingers going in and out as they make sloppy, wet noises OR you are massaging your heavy balls, needly stroking your throbbing penis ..you are begging him to touch you, just wanting to cum.. but you cant, not without his permission, all he can do is mocking you.

,,You silly boy/girl, come on.. give your master a nice little show..!"

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[rayraygo1267]

Heyyy Idk if U still active but I LOVE your Hesperia x Nathalie headcanons & I wanted to know if you could make a drabble outta one of them

I'm super into the fact that Hesperia is the spontaneous one so!! Drabble Yay or Nay?

Plus I binged Ur writing and ughhh I love it 💕��

Greetings from Norway!!!

A Gabenath Drabble: A Creature of Wonder

Note: Hello! Hi! I’m so sorry it took me so long to reply to this! I’m so honored that you love my writing and my headcanons that really means a lot to me! Also I’ve heard a lot of great things about Norway I hear it’s very pretty there! Thanks for the greeting! 😊

Anyway I know this fic is a little longer than a drabble is supposed to be but I hope you enjoy it! 💓💕💓💕

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Rated: K

Word Count: 428

Summary: Hesperia drags Nathalie out on a midnight adventure much to her chagrin and anxiety but perhaps he can prove to her that this little outing was worth it for both her and someone else.

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“I don’t think you realize how risky this is,” Nathalie grumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour.

“Shh!”

The soft pad of Hesperia’s pointer finger met the bow of her lips.

She scoffed, a flurry of both slighted annoyance and poignant worry swarming through her. Her voice pitched to a slightly higher, reverent whisper.

“You can’t be out here! Bobbling about! Out in the open! You can’t—”

“Shh! Look…” Hesperia interrupted, his voice low, his gaze focused on something in the shadows of the forlorn alleyway.

The eeriness of this little secret midnight escapade left a tangle of knots in Nathalie’s stomach, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

She huffed as Hesperia gently set her down on the cool pavement, his hands remaining on her shoulders. She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding them.

She gasped.

It wasn’t obvious right away, but if she looked closely, she could see the outline of what looked to be a little insect… something white? A moth perhaps? Or…

“A kamiko?” Nathalie murmured, her hand instinctively reaching out for the little creature.

“Look closer…” Hesperia whispered, his lips grazing against her ear.

Nathalie’s brows furrowed. The kamiko’s wings fluttered quickly, but it did not take off. It was stuck, somehow trapped between two throngs of twisted barbed wire covering the security gate blocking one side of the alleyway.

“Oh, the poor thing…” Nathalie cupped her hands, leaning closer.

“How come it won’t come to you?” Nathalie asked, while trying to coax the kamiko forward from its mini prison.

Hesperia chuckled, his blue eyes glistening.

“This one isn’t attracted to me.”

Nathalie snorted and couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that comment.

“Oh, please, how can a butterfly not love a butterfly-loving man like yourself?” she asked, teasing.

Hesperia smiled, soft and fond.

“Because kamikos respond to emotions, especially strong ones like love.”

Nathalie’s face heated, but she covered it well with another eye roll, though she was distracted by the feeling of a soft, tickling flutter against her palms.

She looked down to see that the little kamiko had made its way into her hands. She smiled, her heart melting as she nurtured it.

“Oh, and look at that,” Hesperia mused, “he’s found a home… with you,” Hesperia paused, a smirk on his lips as he kissed her cheek, “just as I have.”

Nathalie grinned, pressing her lips to his. She opened her palms between their embrace and set the little creature of wonder free.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it! I also want to apologize again for how long it took me to get this out and also for any grammatical errors.

Again thanks for reading and I’m open to any and all requests!

[adiraofthetals]

On Tumblr For Two Months!

I can't believe I've been on Tumblr for two months now! So let's recap that month!

First I would love to mention the new addition to our little Discovery Tumblr Group! @mxflowercheck aka Clover! You joined our group almost a month ago!! We have talked about our headcanons for characters, our tea addictions, AU thoughts, and our love for squirrels!

Next, I would like to mention @ajtal's fanfic that he is working on called Wind Chime! It has 6 chapters so far and I am so excited to see what happens next! If you would like to check out the fic the link is here. You must be a registered ao3 user to read it. Go check out his Tumblr as there are lots of pieces of art and his own Paul Stamets-centric comic!!

I would like to point you to the Discovery's of literal backbone @sadmushroomgoblin. They have been worrying us on Tumblr with their unhinged posts while working! Majority believes that they are kind of ok. but watch them in case. I joke, we love you Rin! (Edit - this is why we are concerned - Here)

@ashlexzz and I have been very busy as of late, so our fic hasn't been worked on. With high school and bad time management, let's be honest. But I am the one to mainly blame here. It's also the reason for the lack of posts. Two hurricanes hit. That was fun. Am I becoming the ao3 author meme?

Finally, I would love to thank @weltato for looking at a project that I was working on (Shh! It is still a secret! Nobody else knows yet!) That will be shown in the coming weeks but I have to keep on working on it! Before it can be shown!

I would like to announce that I will be making a new Tumblr account. I am making it to be DC-centric so I don't flood this account with it. If you can find it props to you!!!

One more thing I am working on my Eureka x Discovery AU a lot in the background. It is a five-season show with time travel in it and many timelines in it. I have been planning out episodes for later seasons so I know where to aim in the long run. I have also been planning out characters such as Adira's school friends in the High School. They won't be OC's, they will be Tilly's students from season 4. But some were not given first names or anything with the characters. Also, I have been working on Tal's past lives and making them semi-accurate from history. Also like 3 other AU fics and a couple one shots but that can be talked about at a later time!!!

I love our little place in the community! and can't wait it see what is next!!

[baalzebufo]

good ol fashioned razzmatazz

SO I wrote more... :) ive wanted to do a series of scenes from Gideon's life for a while now- moments in time we didn't see in the show. mostly past, maybe some present or future, depending. wanted to explore his life a little more, and the headcanons ive got surrounding it. drabbles is the best way to solve this because i cant write one long cohesive plot very well haha

ive got a handful of ideas in mind but this is the first one that i finished to any degree. just a little scene from his childhood. gideon makes his first sale, and learns something about himself.

‘What are you up to, sweetie?’

‘Shh- it’s a secret.’

Gideon hushed his mother as he ran over to the back door and shoved his face up against it, peering out through the frosted glass window into the car lot. His mother, Florence, turned her attention away from the oven for a moment to squint at him. He was wearing his favorite dress shirt, the dark blue one covered in golden stars- shorts and sandals for the weather, and his long hair was pulled back into a white braid. The sun caught on his hair through the window, and she could have sworn she saw it sparkle. What a strange little boy they had, she thought.

---

She remembers how tiny he was when she first held him, and how odd his shock of white hair had been. Odder still when she first saw the icy blue eyes he had- not like hers or Bud’s, not at all. Neither of them had even heard of what the doctors diagnosed him with before then. Some sort of ‘congenital condition’, for whatever that meant. All that fancy medical talk was a bit out of her area of expertise. All that mattered to her was that their little boy was alive- and now, at least on his way to better health.

Their little Gideon had been much more adventurous these days. Ever since the doctors had given him the OK during his last hospital visit, he’d seemingly been itching to get outside. He hummed loudly, like he was deep in thought.

Florence smiled. She reached over to the fridge.

‘Well, if you aren’t too busy with your secrets, could you do me a favor?’

‘Hm?’ He whipped his head over to look at his mother, who was holding a little tupperware container.

‘How about you go across the lot and take this to your dad for me?’

The wheels turned for a moment, and Gideon perked up instantly.

‘Y’mean it? On my own?’

‘Of course, hon. As long as you’re careful-’

He nodded, a smile creasing his face. Oh- she couldn’t help it, every time he smiled, she smiled too. Surely every mother thinks their child is the cutest kid on the planet, but well… she KNEW hers was. And she knew that they’d been very protective of him these past few months, what with the hospital scare and all. As much as she fretted about his health- she made a mental note to deep clean his room again this weekend- she couldn’t squash that spirit behind his eyes. It couldn’t hurt to let him out on his own for a little bit.

He took the container from her hands and tucked it under one of his arms, nodding solemnly.

‘Ah’ll handle it, ma’am!’ He stood up straight and gave a little salute, his face faux-stern, and she couldn’t help but laugh. He’d been watching too much TV lately, bless him.

She waved him off as he skittered out of the door, turning her attention back to the oven.

---

Gideon shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun. The worst of his sensitivity to it may have gone away with the treatments, but it still got awful bright out in summer. But he’d power through it. After all, he had a mission.

He took off at a run down the winding garden path, rushing through the gate onto the concrete car lot. The weather was hot, but there was that fresh summer breeze blowing in his face that made him glad to be out of his room. He liked it in there plenty- he had books and instruments and more toys than he knew what to do with- but being cooped up in bed for so long had him yearning for the outdoors. He squinted, spying the towering figure of his father through the light glinting off the windows of his work building.

Giggling, he sprinted across the lot as fast as his legs could carry him into the shop.

‘Dad!’ He burst through the door, startling his father. Bud Gleeful whipped around from where he was sat across a little plastic table with a skinny spectacled gentleman, poring over a contract. He wore a battered looking old suit but held himself with an oddly aristocratic air. He seemed out of place on a used car lot.

‘Woah there, sunshine-’ Bud started, his sentence cut off with an oof- as Gideon jumped onto his lap. ‘Heavens, boy! What’s gotten into you?’

Gideon looked up at him- and then across the table to his latest customer. He had put the contract down and was looking down at the two of them, a smile creasing his cheeks. Bud raised a hand, a little embarrassed. ‘Oh my, I’m mighty sorry for the interruption, sir-’

‘Oh, no. It’s quite alright.’ He laughed- he had that fancy city-folk accent, Gideon noticed. He tilted his head to the side to get a better look at him. ‘Now who is this fine little fellow?’

‘Oh, well this is-’

‘Gideon!’ He piped up, folding his hands across his lap with a smile. ‘Gideon Charles Gleeful!’

‘Haha- yep. That’s my lil’ Gideon.’ Bud finished for him, resting one big hand on his son's shoulder. ‘This is my son. Little fella ain’t been too well recently, but he’s lookin’ fit as a fiddle now. Acting it, too! Well now, why’d you rush over here in such a hurry, boy? Does your mother know you’re-’

‘Oh, yeah! I brought ya’ this from mom.’ He held out the container to Bud, who picked it up- turned it over, then hummed in understanding.

‘Hah, oh yeah. I s’pose I did almost forget about lunch, all caught up in negotiatin’.’ He mused. ‘Thank you kindly, sweetheart.’ He leant down to kiss his forehead, which Gideon responded to by playfully swatting him away.

The moment was interrupted then by the man across the table clearing his throat. Gideon and Bud both turned their attention back to him.

‘Mr. Gleeful, I have to be honest- I wasn’t sure if this was the right car for me, a few minutes ago. Forgive me for my bluntness, but I was worried this place might not be… on the up-and-up, if you catch my drift.’ Gideon felt his fathers hand slip off his shoulder, a subtle change in his demeanor.

‘But… well, seeing you here- you seem like a real family man, Mr. Gleeful. Trustworthy. I’m sorry for doubting you.’ He chuckled. ‘I suppose I thought this contract might be too good to be true for a moment there.’

‘Nah, dad’s the best at this stuff!’ Gideon piped up- he felt Bud tense up for a second, about to hush him, but he carried on. ‘I’m gonna learn to sell cars just as good as his, someday! So you can tell yer kids to come buy from me!’

Bud held his breath a moment, but then the customer burst out laughing.

‘Oh- goodness, how sweet. You know what, Gideon? I’ll have to remember that.’

‘That’ll be Mr. Gleeful to you!’

Bud picked him up then, lifting himself out of his chair and carrying his son high up to perch on his shoulder. ‘Okay, that’s enough teasing, boy-’

‘Haha! No, no, he’s got it right.’ The skinny man stood too, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘You know what? You’ve got yourself a sale, Mr. Gleeful.’

He held his hand out- up, above Bud’s, to Gideon. He grasped it firmly, grinning ear to ear and shook his hand. The gentleman nodded his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp 20 dollar bill.

‘Forgive me for being forward- but may I give the young man a commission?’

Bud startled, glancing at it- then back to Gideon- then back to the money. ‘Oh, my- that’s awful kind of you sir, it certainly is! Of course you can.’

Gideon’s eyes lit up. He eagerly took the twenty, held it up to the light- then slipped it into his pocket. He squirmed- a sign for Bud to pick him up and let him down on the floor again- and stood up straight with his arms folded.

‘Thanks, sir!’ He chirped, and Bud leant down to pat the top of his head.

‘Now Gideon, do you think you could let the grown-ups handle the borin’ part of all this paperwork?’ He crouched to smile at his son.

‘Sure thing.’

‘Alright, sweetpea. Don’t spend your money all in one place, y’hear?’

‘Okay, dad!’

His mission complete, Gideon padded over to the door- leant over his shoulder to wave at the man his father was now pushing a pen into the hand of- and left the room.

Stopping on the sun-soaked car lot, he reached into his pocket and felt the dollar again. Thought about the look on that man's face when he gave him the money, for nothing but a few words and a smile. His dad had a pretty easy job, he figured. But he didn’t really understand the whole sales thing- not yet, at least.

---

Gideon would spend the rest of the day playing in the garden- until he got too hot and tired, and retreated back to his shaded room for a nap. He wouldn’t think too much about what happened that day.

But that night, his father would take them out to the diner and boast loudly about how his son- barely in his fifth year!- had made his first ever sale. He’d let him order dessert- seconds, too. And he’d ask Gideon to stop by the lot more often, especially if he wants to learn to be a salesman someday. He was one talented boy, his parents told him. Showered him with that notion, really. He was destined to be a big shot one day with a personality as glowing as his.

'You have a face folks would never say no to!' His father told him. He didn't mean much when he said it- more of a joke than anything. But something about it settled with Gideon, still learning about the world. Nobody would say no to him, huh...?

He figured that sounded pretty nice.

[ritzy-reminiscence]

Slamdunk headcanons plss

─🏀─ Slam Dunk : Secret Santa !

⸝⸝ tl;dr : features the starting five, kogure, as well as haruko + ayako ; and what they'll put down in their wishlists for secret santa !

⸝⸝ note : hii, anon ! i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but i hope you enjoy it either way :DD might as well do a little something-something for the holiday season <33

Hanamichi Sakuragi 🌸

he'll accept anything, to be honest !

maybe some cool shoes ? some funky shirts ? a box of red hair dye ? he'll cherish them all !!

or maybe just plain money, he's not picky ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

if anything, though, i feel like he'd prefer a hangout as a gift rather than material items, ykwim ? i'm talking trips to the amusement park with his friends, window-shopping through shops that he'll never be able to afford (SOBS) point is, he'd rather spend quality time with his friends rather than wish for material things <33

he'd probably bullshit his wishlist though, like he'll write down a whole recipe like "Let's prepare the ingredients you need for honey chicken .. !! :DD"

Ryota Miyagi ⚡

ayako

no but he'd actually write her name down as a joke ... but is it really a joke ...

honestly this is a tough one, but just like Sakuragi I think he'll accept anything as long as the thought's in it :DD

i feel like he'd like some candy, though ?? specifically sour candy, as sour as he can handle !! or just plain food stuff in general ! nothing like receiving food for xmas amirite or amirite

like sakuragi he'll also bullshit his wishlist like "Congratulations Ma'am/Sir, you've won a BRAND NEW IPHONE !! Text ur COMPLETE NAME / AGE / ADDRESS / # / CREDIT CARD INFO to claim !! Congratulations !!!! :O :O :O"

Kaede Rukawa 💤

cats. that's it. that's all you need to know.

cat plushies, cat notebooks, cat pens, cat toys, actual cats, big cats, small cats, he'll take them all

and you know what ... throw in a neck pillow for him as well . he needs his sleep yk, don't wanna wake up to a stiff neck in the middle of bball practice

AND !! new earphones, in case the one he's using breaks down and you know he needs his music to function (and also to block out a certain redhead when he gets too noisy....)

Hisashi Mitsui 🦷

polident denture adhesive

also a hard one to think for, actually ! but i think he'd like some basketball magazines, maybe even sportswear ! some good ol' posters of his favorite bball players would be nice too .

he would also appreciate a kneepad, in red and black just like the one he currently uses ! AND he'll fold if you give him shoes, trust me i was there to witness it

OH !! and comics ; i feel like he'd like comics aa

Kiminobu Kogure 👓

my first thought ? books ! any type, he doesn't mind, but he does have a preference for historic novels, and thrillers/mysteries are always really fun to get

my second thought ? those miniature dollhouse sets that you can build ! either that, or lego !! i headcanon him as someone who really likes to build those sets so :DD

also would like cardigans or sweaters, turtlenecks specifically ! he gotta stay warm for the cold winter season !!

Takenori Akagi 🦍

oo boy ,, yet another tough one ! but just like mitsui i think he'll appreciate basketball magazines and merch ,, and maybe gym equipment ? doesn't even need to be branded or expensive, as long as it helps him work out

OOH and books too ! much like kogure he likes books too, and for him any will do !! (and don't tell anyone this but he'd kill for a nice romance book shh)

Haruko + Ayako

haruko strikes me as someone who likes to scrapbook, if that even makes sense ?? like, she likes to cut and paste stuff she thinks is interesting and put them in a notebook dedicated to such things, and even write little annotations on the sides !

and because of that i think she'll like brush pens and pastel-colored highlighters !! she'd love some stickers too, and prints that she can rip up and arrange in her own special way ; shes so cute ilhsm

AND AYAKO !! ayako .. gives it girl energy. And because of that I think that she'll put clothes in her wishlist ! bell bottoms, flare pants, crop tops, tank tops, the list goes on. She'd love some shiny hair pins too ! magpie ayako supremacy !!

ALSO remember the caligraphy she wrote after shohoku lost to kainan ?? because of that i think she'd also like some good quality brushes and inks to write with :DD

[fandom-hoarder]

do you really think dean is aro? no judgement, it's a cool thought, i just can't reconcile it with all his secret desires for romantic picnics and an apple pie life

My answer is a little complicated, anon.

Essentially, yes, I headcanon Dean as aro/arospec. But this is a headcanon, not what I think the show intended as canon; much as I'm sure it wasn't their intention to canonize Sam and Dean as a queerplatonic life partnership, nevertheless they did, for those of us who know and appreciate what that is.

I've seen arguments for him being frayromantic (when someone only experiences romantic attraction towards those that they are not deeply connected with, and lose that attraction as they get to know the individuals), and that lends itself well to the way Dean has been shown to be a very romantic lover, I suppose.

But I tend to think of him more as greyromantic (feeling romantic attraction rarely/infrequently, and only under certain circumstances). I think this can account for Cassie and Lisa, and lends itself well to my SamDean headcanons.

Now, as for "all his secret desires for romantic picnics and an apple pie life," I personally think this perspective only works if you haven't finished the series. Particularly if you haven't gone past season 5 or 6.

Now, in s2, we get a glimpse of this idea of Dean's secret "apple pie" desires in What Is and What Should Never Be. But that is less about Dean's romantic desires than it is a manifestation of his boyhood desire for his family to not be affected by the supernatural. For he and Sam to have grown up in a normal, stable family (with normal chores like mowing the lawn for your mom, instead of cleaning the guns for your dad), and for Dean not to be the reason his dad is dead. And once again, Sam is the one with more of an apple pie life, whilst Dean has a reputation for drinking and doesn't have a relationship with Sam.

In s3, we get Dean's dream about Lisa and the picnic. This dream often leads to the interpretation that Dean loved Lisa the whole time, and sometimes causes upset at the apparent slighting of Cassie as Dean's first/true love, but I think it's a mistake to take this dream at face value -- dreams rarely are just what they show, even if spn tends to be heavy handed in their storytelling.

-- again, I think it's less about Dean's romantic desires, and more about the idyllic life he's never been able to have -- and won't get a chance to because of his Hell deal. Lisa is the one in the dream because of that split second where Dean thought Ben could be his son-- in the middle of this middle class neighborhood with a bouncy house and backyard bbq-- and he imagined an entirely different possible life for himself if he wasn't a hunter headed to Hell. Dean is easily baby-trapped, lbr.

Being aromantic doesn't necessarily preclude fantasizing about being able to be romantic, either. Especially if a person is still on their journey of self discovery. Sexual and Romantic orientation are a spectrum, too, and sometimes that spectrum is traveled throughout one's life. And sometimes we spend time fantasizing about the ability/ideal to do what is socially expected of us.

But the Dean of mid-to-late seasons doesn't really show a desire for an "apple pie life" beyond his belief that he wants Sam to have one. He doesn't talk about settling down himself, or show a desire to build lasting romantic relationships with anyone other than Sam, who he married in a handfasting in Sacrifice.

And when Sam asks Dean in Baby if he never thinks about settling down-- well, actually, here's how that post-Piper scene goes:

SAM: Dean, I can explain what was going on -- DEAN: No, no, no. No. SAM: Don't "Night Moves" me. DEAN: Shh. Just let it wash over you. SAM: Let . . . DEAN: Just take it in. Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” plays on the radio.

[The Night Moves interlude, my beloved...but cut for length.]

Let's take a moment here to appreciate Sam's apparent need to explain himself to Dean. 👀

SAM: I tried to give her my number. You know what she said? DEAN: "We got tonight. Who needs tomorrow"? SAM: Is everything a Bob Seger song to you? DEAN: Yes. Well . . . [ sighs ] SAM: It was nice knowing you, Piper. DEAN: Piper? That's awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we're lucky we still get that at all. SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more?

DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life? DEAN: Have you not heard a single word Bob's been singing about?

And Dean leaves it at that, but it's pretty clear romance is not something he's really thinking about. He's seemingly fine getting even the small amount of "one night wonders" that 'they' do get. (Another moment here to appreciate that Dean's pronouns are we/us, in a SamAndDean kind of way. --and that this conversation takes place over the course of a very domestic montage.)

Now, granted, at this time they're dealing with the release of the Darkness and all that entails; and granted Dean has been dealing over 3 seasons with the perpetual idea that he should expend his life and soul for the sake of Sam getting that apple pie life; but Dean seems to have left those "domestic" thoughts behind even before he had Castiel wipe Lisa and Ben's minds in s6. Dean's primary domestic relationship is with his brother, and as long as Sam is there, that's alright with Dean.

And what does Amara give Dean as his reward for helping her with Chuck in s11? Mary. Ignoring the later reasoning/retcon that she did it to teach Dean some lesson, we can say that once again Dean's domestic desires are pinpointed as having a fulfilled family life, but not necessarily romantic fulfillment.

And later, when Dean's "greatest desire" comes up again in Lebanon, what does he get from the pearl? He gets his father and mother, alive again under the same roof as him and Sam (and if you want to give subtextual meaning to Doylist ~fanservice~ concerns, wished it so that John and Sam would get along better than they would've if that were the actual 2003!John).

All this, and the fact that he and Sam continued to live and hunt domestically after Chuck was gone, are why I like to headcanon Dean as aro.

[scavengerssuccotash]

Do you have and soft/sweet headcanons of Clint and Nat? Also, 100 percent agree, I love when Clint goes feral on Nat’s behalf

Soft Clint is also my weakness. He is a die hard romantic at heart. I’m talking about all the mushy fluffy good chicken-noodle-soup-for-the-soul kind of goodness. He treats Nat like a princess, buying her flowers, gear and anything she wants really. Price is no matter either he’s frugal by nature and has a substantial nest egg that he’s been building since he was a teenager. Nat however still has some hang ups on the whole receiving gifts without an expectation of a return investment so they worked out a deal. Twice a year Clint can buy her an unexpected gift just because. For their Eight-N-Four gifts and Christmas they pick from lists that they give each other. Clint one time surprised her with a little kitten he found on a mission in Chile, who she would later name Liho. She jokes to this day that that was the best gift anyone ever got her. Clint grumbles about the closet full of weapons but grins like an idiot every time he finds the two of them asleep on the couch together. (Nat has a one eyed dog on hold at the pound but that’s a secret! Shh!)

Nat is a secret sap and relishes in all the little ways Clint spoils her. From the notes on her coffee cup in the morning to the way their pinkies seem to twine together when they are walking in the park she loves it. What she loves most however is the slow dances in the kitchen. It’s never planned and they’ve burned a few good meals but they are memories she looks back on often.

They shower together often. Sometimes to save on time, other times for fun but most of the time they just like being naked together without having to get intimate. Clint has a clawfoot tub in the basement that he’s been meaning to put in, but hasn’t had the time off yet to do it.

Nat likes to give him a good massage after a particular strenuous mission. And oh god she’s good at it! She goes all out too, good oils, icy hot, really anything to help alleviate the tension in his shoulders and arms. By the time she’s done Clint’s either hard or half asleep.

On Sunday’s when they have the time off they lay in bed all day, laughing and joking, touching and kissing. It’s by far their favorite day of the week. The first time Nat said I love you out loud was on a Sunday like this, half asleep after making love and Clint’s cheeks hurt from grinning so wide. After that first time it got easier and easier for Natasha to say and now she just says it randomly, unprompted and unprovoked and it sends Clint to the moon every single time. The first time Phil heard her say it he dropped his coffee.

[agent-slozhno]

my associates are weird. and constantly talking about bananas.

my name is Tatiana. you may refer to me as she or it, I don't mind either way.

warnings for this blog: typical tatiana backstory stuff (murder, child soldiers, implied dehumanization, implied abuse), intrusive thoughts, and less than stellar mental health.

headcanons that are only important to me: she's an aspec lesbian, is autistic, has ocd and ptsd, partially deaf, and is an age regressor (shh it's a secret).

tags:

tatiana talks - general posting

tati talks - general posting! but she's little

[thescarvedinsect]

I think Stede is sensitive to the sound of people's voices and doesn't fully realise it.

I was chatting with a friend on Discord, and I had thoughts about a partial reason to why Stede Bonnet picked certain people to be part of his crew in Our Flag Means Death. I think Stede probably has sensitive hearing when it comes to voices and used that to choose his crew prior to the series.

In the flashback to a childhood interaction with his father, he loudly calls Stede a "weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy," and this interaction, as well as other insults directed at Stede, really seem to heavily affect him throughout the series so far, even causing Stede and Ed's separation at the end of episode 9 (screw you, Chauncey,) and I think it's to the point where Stede subconsciously sought out people who had gentler, less threatening voices to be the Revenge's crew.

A few noticeable examples of this are Frenchie (very calm and soft singing voice despite his violent song lyrics,) Lucius (very smooth-sounding at any pitch despite his drama and sass,) the Swede (generally very soft-spoken and is eventually revealed to have a lovely singing voice,) and Jim (Stede thought they were mute until the end of episode 3.)

A couple of surprising examples are Mr. Buttons (pretty loud voice, but always speaks clearly and usually with the same tone,) and Wee John (big guy with a deep voice, but surprisingly speaks very gently.)

I also think that a person's voice upon meeting someone in general is how Stede probably figures out if he trusts them or not. The two most notable characters he immediately shows distrust towards in season 1 are Izzy Hands and Calico Jack. While Izzy does have a generally soft voice, it could be described as having a simultaneously low and high pitch that Stede probably isn't used to, and in a couple of scenes, the man really growls when he's seething with anger. Calico Jack's voice, however, is pretty much JUST growling.

This also kind of leads into Ed's voice. When Ed introduces himself to Stede in episode 4, his voice sounds very smooth, gentle, and collected. After hearing Ed's voice and reassurance, as well as noticing a common interest in fine fabrics, Stede IMMEDIATELY trusts Ed enough to let him in his secret auxiliary wardrobe. Stede is then visibly shocked after Ed admits that he's Blackbeard (Shh!) and likely didn't expect his voice to sound like that. Ed does yell quite harshly a few times in future episodes, but Stede has already heard enough of his normal voice to still trust him and see who he really is, rather than just seeing the Blackbeard persona.

There's also a common headcanon that Stede is on the autism spectrum (which I fully agree with,) and this could possibly add onto that, since sensitivity to certain kinds of sounds is very common in autistic people, myself included. I just thought it would be appropriate to share my thoughts on this here.

[krystaldeath]

Headcanons for Shadowpeach being Bai He’s dad’s please? (You can do it for your au where that happens if you want to btw, though you can also do it in a sort of canon scenario where the two adopt Bai He after making up or something)

Ahh I haven’t done anything for my au in a while so I’ll do that!

* So in the beginning Wukong was a bit hesitant to get too close to them, since he and Macaque don’t have the greatest history, but one day he saves Bai He from almost falling off a cliff when she was running around with the baby monkeys (the monkeys (both the babies and Mac & SWK) had heart attacks but it’s ok-) and she started to want to play with him more. So he became close to her before he and Mac patched things up and became lovers again

* Bai He likes to wear her hair in two buns on the side of her head. When Wukong one day finally asks why, she stops playing with her dolls and says, “Because it makes my shadow look like a monkey like my baba and papa!” with the biggest smile on her face. She immediately turned away to start playing again so she doesn’t see her fathers both clutching their hearts and crying their eyes out

* She calls Macaque Baba and Wukong Papa

* Bai He knows that her dads have a history together, and she figures out some things when she’s older by looking them up in books/on the internet. She keeps her knowing a secret because she’s afraid that if she brings it up her family will fall apart. Dw they all talk it out eventually but there’s a long period of time where she has this insecurity

* Groom/Braid train! Bai He in front getting her hair brushed, cleaned and braided by one of her dads while the other does the same to him. Mac is surprised that Wukong is actually pretty good at braiding (Wukong takes mock offense to his mate thinking he would suck at it; Bai He just giggles at her dads’ banter)

* Self projecting the little “Oo-Ooh~!” Id do whenever I saw my parents kiss when I was younger onto Bai He

* When she’s hanging out with the Traffic Light Trio for the Big Sis/Big Bro thing she has to hold back so much bc of MK’s rambling over Moneky King. “That’s my papa. He’s talking about my papa and I can’t even say anything about it. WAIT MY PAPA DID /W H A T/????” This is how she gets her Dad Lore™️, much like a lot of us (I assume or maybe this is just me-): From a person who isn’t her dad. In case you’re curious my mom is my Dad Lore supplier usually. Macaque probably tells her the stuff not usually talked about in stories though. “Oh yeah he was an idiot (affectionate). Still is but-“

* Macaque puts on shadow plays for her all the time, especially before bed. She asks for her favorite story and Mac gets flustered bc Wukong is watching too. “Th-the Hero and The Warrior were like the… the Sun and the Moon-” “Oho, were they now~?” “Papa, shh! Baba, please continue!”(It’s a bit of an edited version of the story from the Shadowplay episode, dw, he’s not putting his daughter to bed with a story about betrayal and heartbreak)

* Big timeskip here but after the events of season 3 (oh boy once I get the basics of this au out and can finally get into the shows timeline with it, yall aren’t ready for the angst), they all have some white in their hair. The family have “Hair Dye Days” where they all dye said white either their natural hair color or a fun unnatural color. Usually it’s just Bai He who does the unnatural colors (like pink or red; red is to match her dads :3), but sometimes Mac will dye his purple and Wukong will dye his teal/turquoise (I do Not know which one is the one he often has as his accent color but it’s gotta be one of the other. Probably)

* Last one for now bc this is getting long: Wukong is a living space heater. Macaque and Bai He will just cuddle up to him on each side and he has to try not to cry bc he’s been alone for so long, with only the baby monkeys to keep him company, and now he has a daughter and a husband and his touch starved self is gonna burst from how much love is in his soul now

[cozza-frenzy]

Fanfic: A La Carte (Part 1: Appetizer)

It’s a big part of what makes us human; believing we have a soul that needs to be fed, too. So this one has been in the works for a little longer than the others! Not only has my Discord “job” been keeping me VERY busy, but I also wasn’t sure where to go with this, exactly... but after seeing a certain art post yesterday, I know now... and I also know it needs to be a 2-parter. Yep, this one’s LONG, folks. And it’s about food! I’d like to give my thanks once again to @chronicsheepdrawing​ for their wonderful designs and autistic character headcanons. This is going to be less angst, more fluff this time, so content warnings are a little more sparse! May we all experience moments of Autistic Joy like those found in this story. Happy Autism Acceptance Month! Part 3 of a series: Anything Not Saved A Perfect Moment

CONTENT WARNINGS: Body Dysphoria (Not Gender Related), Messy Eating, References to Sensory Deprivation, Mild Sensory Overload

So whose birthday do you think it is this time? Ah, yes, I suppose it DOES say “Happy Celebration To Whomever”, doesn’t it? It might not even BE a birthday. It might even be celebrating all of the incredibly productive work we’ve been doing! Gosh, imagine that! FINALLY some recognition for all those years of- …And you’re gone. Of course. No doubt you have more important things to do than talk to the likes of me. Honestly, I don’t even know WHY I bother - I swear, it’s almost like some sort of COMPULSION! Just rambling on, and on, and on, and… oh dear, and I’m even doing it when there’s nobody to listen… …Hm. Actually, come to think of it… I wonder if he got the memo… ? 427? Ah, Employee 427? Hello? …Stanley, it’s ME - open the door! Oh, there you are Stanley! I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything; oh, you were waiting for-? Well you… you didn’t HAVE to, you do realize that, right?? You were really just going to sit in your office, pushing your buttons, until I just HAPPENED to call out to you? I mean for heaven’s sake, Stanley! Don’t you want to take the initiative for even ONCE in your career? It could result in you getting promoted! Or possibly- well, probably more than likely, fired. But aren’t some things worth the- …What do you MEAN you already got one?? I just BROUGHT you a- Oh. Oh Stanley, you-you didn’t! You didn’t… heeheehee, really!? Well come onl, come on, get inside, quick! Shh! SHH!! Hahahahaaa, I can’t believe it!! I can’t BELIEVE you-what? NO, I’m not going to TELL! Gosh, what do you take me for, Stanley?? I mean you’re one of our most valuable employees; who ELSE could push buttons like you can, I ask you?? No-one, that’s who! Though I must say, haha, I never would have pegged YOU as the secret Bad Boy of the office! Mister Employee Four-Twenty-Seven, pilfering an extra slice of cake from under everyone’s collective nose! They’ll never suspect a thing! Hahaha…! …Oh come now, stop that, we’re not going to get CAUGHT. And even if we did, it’s probably my fault, anyway. Ugh, I must be a truly terrible influence on you, Stanley, I really must… it’s that horrid little rebellious streak in me. Probably why I never seem to get anywhere in this bloody office… Ah? Oh thank you Stanley, I’d love some coffee. Little more sugar if you could- yes, and- oh, you remembered! Ah yes, that’s lovely, I… oh, um, are you sure? I know how much everyone looks forward to our scheduled Standard Issue Office Sheet Cake, but you took that fair and - oh GO ON then, you absolute rascal! Since you’ve already cut it and everything… heh. Happy Whatever-It-Is, Stanley… —————————————————————————————————- This is a story about a man named Stanley. Today - if there even is such a thing as a ‘day’ any more - Stanley is in the Employee Break Room. A place he’d stopped by countless times previously, just to admire; the gray walls and dark blue carpet as comforting and familiar as they ever were. The couch; just as soft, yet firm enough to encourage the good sitting posture that was vital for employees. The whole place still smelling vaguely of printer ink, paper, and coffee. It was quiet now, given that all of Stanley’s coworkers had mysteriously vanished, leaving him alone in the office. Or, well… not quite alone. Not any more. Next to Stanley, on the couch, sat his Narrator. Some time ago, they’d had a fateful - and completely intentional, absolutely no mistakes were made - encounter in The Memory Zone. And since then, he’d decided to stick around. It just felt far more comfortable than unloading his model; it gave him something to anchor himself to, something that reminded him he was real. And all things considered, it wasn’t that bad. Even if he was still slowly learning to tolerate his… eh… he twisted the words around in his head, tossing aside epithets like “silly-looking” and “bizarre”, completely ignoring “ugly” and “monstrous” for a change, before finally settling on something. Unusual form. Yes, that will do for now… Ahem. Anyway; overall, The Narrator was, at least, willing to tolerate the unusual situation he’d found himself in. Since then, he’d found there was one thing more important to him than how he felt… and that was how Stanley, his protagonist, felt. After all; without him and without his co-operation, there was no story. There was no Stanley Parable without Stanley. So of course, as his Narrator, he couldn’t have him become lonely or depressed. Especially since the last time the Parable ended, The Narrator could have sworn they’d finally found freedom… They’d finally stepped outside; onto real grass and real dirt! Surrounded by real trees, under a real sky! On his very life, he could have sworn that they had... and yet… like a dream, or perhaps a burning memory, curling up in the flames like a discarded photograph, they’d found themselves back here. In the office. Right where they’d started. Perhaps they’d made a mistake somewhere… Stanley moved his hands, and the Narrator glanced downward. No, wait, he wasn’t saying anything; he was just fidgeting. And, he noticed, Stanley’s head had been resting against his shoulder - but it seemed from his half-laying, half-sprawled position on the couch, he’d slid down until his ear now rested against the Narrator’s stomach. Something that - the Narrator now realized - had probably been intentional. It was a comfort thing for him, apparently. Something about the liquid sloshing around in there helped him calm down. And perhaps it was the weight of Stanley’s head, or the soft sound of his breathing, or the gentle touch of his button-calloused fingers, but the Narrator couldn’t help but feel calmer too. It made things seem more… alright. Not entirely alright; not just after what they’d both been through, but more alright in himself. Like maybe he didn’t hate this body quite as much as he had previously. It certainly seemed to help keep his thoughts from going to much darker places... Stanley moved his hands again. The Narrator heaved a huge sigh. “Stanley, if you’re going to say something, just say it. I know you were disappointed with how our story ended, but we can’t try again if we just sit here and stew in our own failure… slow-cooking in regret… a crock-pot of misery and hopelessness, with a side dish of pointlessness, and a bitter-sweet ‘we’re never going to get out but at least we’re still here’ sauce… ” The Narrator’s words caught in his throat, and he stopped himself before he choked on them. No, no, he wasn’t going to let this get to him! This was his story! Nobody could tell him how to feel about it except him! He wasn’t about to backslide into utterly crushing despair… No, not him… definitely not… <Do you miss being human?> “W-what??” The Narrator boggled - he’d retired, undefeated, from Professional Boggling, but still boggled casually when the mood called for it - and looked down at Stanley. “You… “ He wondered for a moment how Stanley had remembered, but… of course he had. Back in the Memory Zone, they’d talked for hours, perhaps even longer, and of course sooner or later, everything had to come out. The fact that The Narrator still had memories of being human, once. Memories of having a real face, with makeup he’d painstakingly applied with real hands, that in turn had real nails, painted in office-appropriate colors. And how he couldn’t remember what he looked like, or what his name had been, but- “...You already know how I feel about that, Stanley. I can’t go back.” Somehow, the thought of returning to that time terrified him. Slowly, something had been coming together, at the core of the shattered funhouse mirror that made up his memories. Something that stared into his soul with a white-hot, searing sense of wrongness. Something that gave him no choice but to look away. I can’t go back to what I was before. I can’t. <I know that.> Stanley signed; taking a moment to sit up, he paused to think about what he was going to sign, as he often did. <But you really don’t miss anything?> “Stanley-” The Narrator started with a warning tone. Stanley certainly liked to push buttons; and apparently not only did he not know when to quit, but his obsession with button-pushing also applied to pushing other people’s buttons. But The Narrator couldn’t deny; the look on Stanley’s face held no malice. It was the same way he looked at The Narrator’s hands, when he ran his thumb over the line of stitches. The same way he watched the liquid inside his transparent globe of a belly slosh back and forth, and the way the light reflected off his plastic eyes. He remembered when Stanley had noticed his tie resembled The Stanley Parable Adventure Line™, and the biggest smile had crossed his face as his fingers traced its shape and felt its silky texture, wide eyes drinking in its bright color. Then they’d both just sat for a while, and reminisced about how they’d teamed up for the mis-adventure dubbed The Confusion Ending... It was pure, simple curiosity on Stanley’s face. The Narrator felt his cheeks flush involuntarily; it seemed he was still inexplicably fascinated by everything about him. And that, apparently, included what was inside his head. <I was just asking because…> Stanley hesitated again, looking away nervously. <Because you were talking about food. Do you miss it?> “Talking about-? Wait, was I - oh! Oh, Stanley… ” The Narrator laughed a little; “That was a metaphor! I wasn’t literally talking about those things, I was simply describing-” Stanley shook his head vigorously; waving his hands. Oh no. He wanted him to stop talking. The Narrator’s words had apparently got him thinking, and now he was practically buzzing with questions, a torrent of them starting to spill out like angry hornets from a disturbed nest. <Do you ever get hungry?> “I, ah… ” Did he feel hungry? He’d never really thought about it, but come to think of it… no. He’d never felt hungry; not once since he’d woken up like this. No urge to eat meant he’d never even tried to, though he had no reason to believe he couldn’t… and what was equally strange was he’d had no urge to drink, either. Or sleep! Or - well, this one was convenient, at least - use the facilities. And yet somehow it had never crossed his mind that this was unusual at all-? The Narrator wondered for a moment if it was simply the way his body was now; transformed from a mere human into some kind of immortal and ever-moving construct, perhaps by a Higher Power with a twisted sense of humor. But then… that couldn’t be true, could it? Because now that he thought about it; not only had he never felt hungry or thirsty since The Parable began, but neither had Stanley. But Stanley - dear, simple Stanley - seemingly hadn’t noticed anything was amiss. And he was still persisting in asking questions. <Do you still eat?> “I don’t have to.” The Narrator said curtly, prickling with defensiveness. “Why is this so important to you, exactly?” Dodging the Narrator’s question like a protagonist from a much more exciting genre would dodge bullets, Stanley was already tilting his head quizzically, locking and loading  yet another question. He squinted, like he was trying to make sense of something. The Narrator squinted back. The questions were already annoying him, but there was very little that irritated him more than being ignored, and he was about to launch into a lengthy rant when Stanley pointed to his face and asked... <Where is your mouth?> “What!?” The Narrator huffed, immediately caught off-guard by such a ridiculous question. “I mean, really?? Goodness, Stanley, I can’t believe you have to ask that! Obviously it’s right here!” He pointed to his mouth. Stanley just looked hopelessly confused. “Ugh, don’t look at me like that... you look like a puppy with a headache.” The Narrator sighed, rolling his eyes a little as he relented. Evidently, this wasn’t going to stop unless he did something to stop it. “Alright, just give me a moment. This should put an end to all these bloody questions… ” He reached into his memories. No, not all of them were smashed, broken, piled up in ways that only sort-of made sense like some kind of junk yard - oh no, not at all! Events, people, faces, things that had happened when he’d used to be human, anything that was complicated was a mess… but memories of things? Ah yes, things! Things were simple. He could handle things; hell, he’d even fabricated an entire Memory Zone out of things! Things were great! In fact, things were fantastic. There was no way things could possibly end badly. So of course, taking a memory of a simple chocolate chip cookie and manifesting it was hardly any effort at all; Stanley jumped a little as it appeared in The Narrator’s hand with a small ‘pop’. “Since you’re so utterly fixated on this for some reason, Stanley - allow me to demonstrate.” He took a bite. ————————————————————————————————— Meanwhile; a man named Stanley wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just seen happen. Nor was he entirely sure what he was still seeing, right in front of him, right now, as the Narrator took a second bite of the cookie he’d just created out of seemingly nothing, with the mouth he didn’t seem to have. But he was chewing all the same, complete with crunching sounds as if he had teeth… and there was a distant look crossing his face for a moment, as if he was taking a moment to taste it… “Mm, that is… my, that is actually rather good… ” said The Narrator, his voice slightly muffled from a mouthful of cookie. “In fact it's very good - I think perhaps I’ve outdone myself!” He brought the dessert level with his face, and - again! - a big bite suddenly disappeared. Stanley couldn’t help but stare. Not just because of how unreal it looked, but because The Narrator looked… happy. Very happy. His whole body seemed to have relaxed; and as he took another bite he actually made small, happy sounds, one of his glove-hands touching his own cheek as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Mm… mm! Oh, I wasn’t expecting… Stanley, I know I made this, but this really tastes home-made! It’s simply del-i-cious!“ - munch, crunch - “So crisp! And chewy in the center… dark chocolate chips, a little sprinkle of salt… my gosh, it’s divine!” Stanley watched as The Narrator… licked the chocolate off his fingers? Somehow he knew that was what he was doing, even though he didn’t see a tongue. Trying to make sense of it, as the man pulled a napkin from his pocket and cleaned himself off, was starting to make his head feel weird… “Oh, Stanley! You simply must try one!” The Narrator said eagerly, offering a cookie with his other hand - he actually laughed a little, the experience having made him almost giddy. “Go ahead, it’s not going to bite you!” Stanley hadn’t even heard a ‘pop’ this time and yet here it was - another cookie, being held between glove-fingers, right under his nose. He looked at it for a moment; just like the other cookie, it had come from seemingly nowhere. But the smell of vanilla and brown sugar was real enough to make his mouth water, and the chocolate chips almost seemed to glisten under the office lights, like they were just slightly melted… “Oh come on, Stanley! I make an entire Memory Zone for you to walk through, and a bloody cookie is what makes you stand there, mouth agape??” The Narrator snapped, irritated by Stanley’s continued hesitation. “This is quite the treat, I’ll have you know!” Stanley carefully reached out his hand. “Don’t make me change my mind, because I will scoff the entire thing if you don’t.” Stanley snatched the cookie like it might run away from him and took a big bite. Immediately, Stanley exhaled through his nose; yes, now he understood. Now he felt that tingling from his very core; that rapidly rising tide of joy! The cookie was warm, and sweet, and its perfectly crispy edge practically melted on his tongue like buttery cotton candy. The crunchy exterior and soft, chewy interior were a symphony of textures. The chunky, bittersweet dark chocolate was a rich, heavy bass. And popping here and there to balance out all that sugar were little crystalline flakes of sea salt, that came in a flash and vanished like falling stars… He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cookie this good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cookie. And now he desperately wanted a glass of milk to go with it. Stanley gestured frantically at the Narrator, hardly able to form a coherent sign. “A glass of-? Oh of course, what was I thinking!” Another pop, and there was suddenly a glass of milk in his hand. Suppressing his excitement for just a moment, Stanley steeled his nerves and sipped, letting the ice-cold drink contrast the gentle heat... and sighed. It tasted like how a warm blanket felt in the night air; his whole body wrapped in a comforting, nostalgic hug, made all the sweeter from the chill that lurked just on the edge. “Stanley, are you alright? You’re not allergic to something, are you?” The Narrator asked, squinting at him. “You’ve got a funny look on your face… ” Stanley couldn’t answer. Stanley was frozen in place. Stanley felt like he might cry. Stanley was unbelievably, overwhelmingly happy. Stanley desperately wanted to stim; to flap his hands out of sheer, overwhelming excitement, wrap his arms around himself and rock back and forth as his heart fluttered in his chest… but obviously he couldn’t, not with a cookie in one hand and a drink in the other. Then a particularly mischievous thought crept its way into his head, very softly, on tiptoe… and Stanley bit his lip. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. He did. Stanley tore into the cookie like he was starving to the point of near-death; alternating between it and the milk in desperate gulps, crumbs falling between his fingers. He devoured the snack without any regard for table manners, office etiquette, or anything vaguely resembling human dignity - and he relished every single precious, visceral second of it, ending his frenzy with an utterly contented sigh. He stimmed gently, touching the backs of his own hands, enjoying the moment... “You, ah, must have been… hungry.” Then Stanley turned towards The Narrator. The smile fell from his face. And it may as well have shattered into pieces on the floor, from what he saw. The Narrator looked… pale. Almost like he was about to faint. Almost like he was expecting to get the worst news he’d ever heard in his life; news which would break his heart in such a way it would never heal right, and he’d carry this moment’s phantom pain for a lifetime. And Stanley, somehow, could tell clear as day what he was thinking… much like The Narrator seemed able to read his thoughts sometimes… In his obsessive quest to get his perfect ending, had he let his protagonist starve? <NO, NO!> Stanley shook his head, waving his hands in protest. He hadn’t been hungry, not at all! He knew he hadn’t been hungry in a long time and that had never really bothered him! After all, as The Narrator’s very important and heroic Protagonist, he’d had no shortage of very important and heroic things to do! But… Looking at the remaining chocolate stains on his shaking hands, he couldn’t deny, something else inside him had been absolutely ravenous. Something that had been so, so hungry, and was so, so thankful to be finally fed. With that hunger finally sated, there was a warm feeling curled up cozily inside him, like a purring cat on his chest. …It was almost like… “Like when you put your hand on me for the first time.” mused The Narrator, distantly. “You’re not hungry, but you haven’t tasted anything in hell knows how long… ” <And you haven’t, either!>, signed Stanley, a desperate, sympathetic look on his face. <Didn’t you ever make anything for yourself??> “I suppose the thought just never really occurred to me…” The Narrator sighed dejectedly, his face still a picture of regret. “I mean, I’m honestly surprised I even remembered how food tasted at all, but… knowing you were deprived of that joy… ?” Uh-oh. Stanley knew that look on The Narrator’s face; he only got that look when he was about to have another ‘crisis’, remembering or realizing something awful that sent him into a spiral of self-loathing and hopelessness. Sometimes he’d even ‘unload his model’ and disappear for what felt like hours, leaving nothing but the distant sound of sobbing; or worse, a horrible, yawning chasm of silence. Stanley reached out, gently taking the Narrator’s glove-hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb; just like The Narrator did for him, when he felt overwhelmed. He just wanted him to be alright, please just be alright, but those big plastic eyes still looked so sad... “Oh, Stanley… you didn’t deserve that… ” The Narrator closed his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but Stanley listened to the sound and speed of his breathing, trying to gauge his mood, his emotions, trying to somehow figure this out and make him be alright again. Somehow, he had to try to take The Narrator’s focus off the idea that he’d hurt him… he needed to… he needed to sign something to snap him out of it, maybe? It was worth trying, if it meant even a slim chance of breaking the terrible, slowly rising tension. <Can you make more?> Not to mention the anxiety he himself was struggling to keep at bay; that maybe this time would be the time The Narrator wouldn’t come back. That he’d be alone again. And that it would be his fault somehow. “I… wait, what was that? Didn’t quite catch-” Stanley smiled excitedly; The Narrator had his eyes open again - and what was more, the stars had somehow aligned and fate had weaved its threads to grant him an idea! <You can make anything! You made the Memory Zone! You made the Baby Game! You even made me fly through space! So different kinds of food should be easy, right?> A cheeky little smirk crossed his face. <...Or is it too hard for you?> “WHAT?? Too HARD?!” The Narrator huffed, getting so riled up it almost looked like the liquid in his stomach was bubbling, boiling like a kettle. “Too hard indeed! What, do you think a vast, sprawling imagination like mine is restricted to mere snacks? That the depths of my wildest dreams contain no more than simple, infantile finger foods!?” Stanley relaxed his shoulders. Ah, much better; all he’d had to do was push the right buttons, and there was no more cringing, shrinking, or apologizing! The loud, proud, pompous voice that he adored was back! Though he’d have hardly called a chocolate chip cookie like that one ‘infantile’... “I mean after all, this is my story! And even if it is irrelevant to our ultimate goal, well, isn’t the journey just as important as the end? Is it not important to let our heroes breathe? To let them laugh, and love, and feast??” Stanley watched excitedly; The Narrator was gesturing energetically, pointing his finger in the air. He’d learned from their time together - that is, actually together, now that he could actually see him - that meant he was on a roll. And that always led somewhere interesting. “Well we shall feast! In fact, we shall have a veritable buffet!” Stanley snorted and bit his lip as he tried to keep a straight face; he’d pronounced it ‘boo-fay’, with a great amount of dramatic flair, which tickled him terribly. But he allowed him to continue… “Yes, a collection of culinary concoctions and creative cuisine! I see it now… there’ll be appetizers that delight and entrance! Entrees and side dishes, rivaling the banquets of kings! Desserts and patisserie to make you weep sugary tears of joy! Cocktails! A cheese course! Little things on sticks! Yes, yes, it’ll be fantastic! Stupendous, even! In fact, it’ll be-” …Until Stanley bravely put one hand on The Narrator’s shoulder, his gaze suddenly steely and determined. This could be his only chance he’d ever get for The Narrator to go along with an idea of his in its entirety. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it now - and he did, signing with his free hand. “A picnic in the Memory Zone… ?”