#Installed Code: Headcanon

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , smuttish , pure unadulterated fluff

୨୧˚ an; thank you all for the patience 😭😭 so sorry i’ve been busy getting back into uni shit but omg!!! slowburn is peaking!!! also the tag list is officially closed because i have reached the max # of tags!!!

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Nanami’s morning routine doesn’t deviate from the norm. An alarm clock was built into his genetic code, and he rouses at half past six in the morning. Unfurling his long limbs from the confines of the couch—the suede thing was big, but Nanami was bigger. Joints popped under sheets of muscle and flesh when he gave a hearty stretch, and with that, he was ready to start his Sunday.

Fueled purely on motor memory, he filters through each step of the habitual customs he’s grown to associate with mornings. You’re still sleeping soundly in his bed, and the risk of waking you condemns Nanami to his downstairs bathroom rather than the personal en suite tailing off his bedroom. It doesn’t pose much of an inconvenience; Nanami was nothing if not prepared. The slender closet in his downstairs bathroom housed spare toiletries—handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, soaps and oils.

He brushes his teeth first, watching his reflection with tired eyes. Minty foam froths at the corners of his lips. Nanami collects the mess with his tongue before spitting into the porcelain bowl of the sink. He’s thorough, scrubbing every corner of his mouth, followed by a pass through with charcoal infused floss. Next, the man is dabbing a button of facial cleanser onto a small square of towel, wetting it under the faucet. Scouring his cheeks, then forehead, then nose. His hair is mussed from tossing in his sleep, and if not for the guest upstairs, Nanami would probably leave it as is. But you’re his guest, and for some reason that means something to him, so he slicks back the blonde frizz with wet hands. 

Another staple of Nanami’s morning routine: a good cup of coffee. The machine was expensive—Nanami tends to splurge when it comes to matters that mean most to him. He doesn’t mind spending a little extra on his suit wear, his beloved watches, and certainly not his coffee. Crafted from titanium and stainless steel, it sat heavily on the black marble countertop and whirred quietly as it compressed beans into the filter. 

Ingredients line the island at the center of his extravagant kitchen. Weekends were the only days in which Nanami had enough time to cook breakfast for himself, rather than grabbing a bagel or danish from the convenience store on his way to the office. It was a shame, really, because he enjoyed the gratification of cooking his own meals. And not to toot his own horn, but he was rather proud of his skills. 

He never cooks for two, though. 

Nanami peruses the ingredient assembly line, looking from the organic eggs, to the all purpose flour, to the carton of mixed berries. It would be rude of him not to consider your palate. Did you prefer a savory breakfast? Or perhaps you’d rather have something on the sweeter side like pancakes? He nibbled his lower lip in thought. 

A divine aroma saturates the entirety of downstairs. Nanami focuses on folding a second omellette, tucking the concoction of whipped egg, chopped bell peppers, caramelized onions, diced tomatoes, and grated sharp cheddar on itself with the delicacy of a surgeon. He’s knee deep in concentration, back turned towards his staircase so your presence goes entirely unnoticed. 

Hands clap together somewhere over his shoulder. He jerks with a startled gasp, the fork in his hand clattering to vinyl tiles. Nanami presses a palm to his racing chest, twisting to find your hands just inches away from his ear. What a little shit, you are. He doesn’t waste effort trying to stifle his grimace. “Was that necessary?”

You’re crouched down, retrieving the silverware off the floor. “Now we’re even.” 

“Even?”

“Yeah,” you hand him the fork, to which he blinks at the useless thing. It’s been dirtied by the floor, so Nanami instructs you to toss it in the sink and grab another from the utensil drawer at the end of his pointed finger. As you play fetch, you explain. “Do you know how scared shitless I was waking up in a strange bedroom? In strange clothes?” He’s watching you toy aimlessly with the abundance of extra material bunched up around the trussed waistband of your—his—sweatpants. Nanami’s clothes cloak you more than enough; cotton t-shirt hanging just below mid-thigh, and those damned oversized sweats rolled up in stupidly big cuffs at the ankles stopping over your socked feet. You must’ve adjusted them accordingly when you stepped out of bed. Something akin to apprehension pulled at your face. “We didn’t…”

Blonde brows scrunch as he attempts to decipher your blathering. When you beckon a hand between your chest and his, Nanami abruptly chokes on his saliva. “Are you out of your mind?” He’s quick to sputter, spinning back to face the sizzling pans and contain the tickle in his throat. A white bowl and whisk are gathered into strong arms—homemade blueberry pancake batter sloshes against the wiry bristles of Nanami’s whisk. He pours three more precise circles of batter onto the second frying pan, and the sweet paste fizzles against nonstick cookware. “You were intoxicated, Y/n. Couldn’t even remember your own address.” He paused. “A change of clothes seemed ideal in the moment. Something cozier.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Footsteps pad closer, and you appear beside him, resting your back against the counter. Your head lolls, cheek falling against your shoulder. He can feel your eyes gouging into the side of his face while he flips the pancake triplets. “You changed me?”

There’s a foreign tonality bleeding into your words, something almost playful, and he’s vexed. Are you teasing him? A trimmed thumb nail burrows into the silicone grip of a spatula. Or is that genuine curiosity? “I did,” Nanami gives you honesty, licking his lip as he does so. On it, he tastes a vague note of spearmint. “You needed some help.”

“God,” you touch a hand to your forehead and laugh, “that does sound like me.” There is no perturbation or embarrassment there, only relief, and he thanks God for your uncanny ability to bypass awkwardness in situations such as these. Had the roles been reversed and it was Nanami receiving word that a coworker of the opposite sex had dressed him in a period of inebriation, well, he’d probably send in a letter of resignation to the company the next day. “Sorry for being so difficult for you.”

He wags his head, dismissing the remorse. “Please, your apologies are far from necessary.”

“Oh I think they’re completely neces—”

“Aht.” A spatula stabs through the air stopping a few inches shy of your nose. There’s a sharpness that eclipses sepia eyes behind the crystalline shield of Nanami’s wire-framed glasses; a barbed glance that telepathically urges you to drop the argument before it begins. With that same spatula, he dives below fluffy circles of speckled cake and transports them from pan to plates, divvying up the pancakes into two even portions. “You took the medication I left for you, yes? They were beside the glass of water on the side table.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m feelin’ better already.”

“Good,” he nods with a subtle, tight-lipped grin. “That’s good. Though you should probably get some food down. Fill your stomach with something other than tylenol.” Nanami stops his ministrations, satisfied with the presentation of both plates of breakfast, and pitches you a simple question. “Coffee?”

You practically moan, “coffee sounds really fucking amazing right now.”

Coffee it is then. Nanami proposes that you go settle yourself in a seat, and that he’d handle the rest. Forfeiting another argument, you buckle and slip into a high stool at the breakfast bar that is associated along the island in the midst of the kitchen. Two twin mugs are poached from the highest shelf, crafted of gray ceramic with uneven, white polka dots. He owned a whole dining set donning those same frivolous dots; Nanami always had an absurd fascination with peculiar patterns, they were charming to the man. Perhaps his collection of ugly things were meaningful because of how violently they contrasted to his otherwise ordinary life. In both mugs, scalding coffee brimmed and emanated laces of smoke slithering up to the ceiling. Nanami didn’t bother asking you how you took your coffee—he just knew. Knew from stealing glances at you over the past year, watching you concoct a disastrous potion of lukewarm coffee poured from the communal pot that you so desperately despised, skim milk from the carton in the office floor’s minifridge, and a concerning amount of sugar packets that made him feel inclined to alert your doctor. Nanami does his best to match the ratio of coffee to milk to sugar, gives it a stir, and hopes it’s up to your eccentric taste buds. 

He sets your plate and mug down, sliding it across the counter’s surface to sit before you. Nanami chooses to stand where he is, leaning against the opposite end of the island. His foot, clad in a thick, black sock, taps quietly against the floor. “I wasn’t aware of your preferences so—”

“So you made…” You go quiet, prodding at the unusual combination of food on your plate: a vegetable-ridden omelette on one side and a few blueberry-encrusted flapjacks glazed in a modest squirt of maple syrup on the other. You hate it, he thinks shortly, but then a smile splits on your lips and Nanami fears he may have jumped the gun. “Eggs and pancakes?”

“You do like eggs and pancakes, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, enthused. “It’s perfect.”

Nanami cringes. “I’d like it if you didn’t call me that outside of the workplace.”

“What? Sir?”

He hums. “Formalities remind me of work; I don’t like to think about work when I’m eating my breakfast.” He punctuates the request with a sip from his mug. Black, unsweetened coffee scathes his tongue with powerful calidity, but he’s well acquainted with its heat by now, and doesn’t wince.

“I’ll just stick to Nanami, then.”

“Actually, I—” Was it even worth mentioning? That he’d handed you the rights to use his first name last night? The tiny, bothersome devil on Nanami’s shoulder was whispering yes. “Kento will do.”

True, unadulterated glee beamed from your person, wafting a certain warmth across the counter to smack him in the face. “Holy shit, yeah that’s right! I remember now!” Using your fork as an arrow to point at the man, “last night, you told me that. You said I can call you Kennnn-Tooooo—”

“Okay, alright.” He’s jaded by your antics, swatting his hand in the air lazily. It’s too early in the morning to get serenaded by his own name. “Say it normally, or don’t say it at all.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so crazy to think that we’re on a first name basis now, y’know?” You ask before shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth, sighing blissfully at the taste. Gratefulness oozed into your gestures, materializing in the way you simpered up at him following each and every bite. Smiles so broad that Nanami wondered if they were out of politeness or if you really just enjoyed his cooking that much.

He can cheers to your observation. “If you would’ve told me five months ago that you’d be sitting across from me in my home—sharing breakfast with me, no less—I would have…” Laughed in your face? Had a conniption? A combination of the two? Nanami trails off into thought, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d have done.”

So hellbent on sticking to his judgment, Nanami rarely changed his mind about people post first impressions. First impressions were something he valued, both in himself and in others. A snap perception is made based upon the first bits of information he collects from a person, and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that your initial communication was less than stellar. Since then, Nanami’s one-track mind had pinned associations onto you like a bulletin board, assigning your name with attributes like sleazy and trashy and (God, he felt the worst about this one) slutty. This entire time, it was Nanami’s stubbornness and penchant to be right that shielded him from the realization that you were none of those cancerous aspersions. 

You are you.

You are a diligent worker. You are never on time. Your favorite color is (f/c). You are easy to talk to, easy to approach. You like pistachio cheesecake and criminally sweet coffee. You are insecure about your presentation skills, though Nanami can’t understand why. You are determined. You are rarely shy about asking for something you need, a quality he appreciates in someone. You make him laugh. You can’t hold your liquor. With the way you’re drooling over your plate like a hungry puppy, it’s apparent that you like his cooking. And he likes you. 

He… what?

“Yeah, well,” you tilt your head, and the melodic chuckle that follows is enough to yank Nanami from his dazedness. Lifting your mug, you push it towards him in a sort of gesture. “Good thing the past doesn’t matter, huh? We were both lame in the past, but look at us now.” You retract the mug to your lips, taking a swig. “Future us is awesome. Are awesome? Is?”

You mumble to yourself, befuddled by grammar. Meanwhile, Nanami brews in thought. Your undying fearlessness of what’s to come in life always rendered him bewildered. 

“I’m jealous,” he admits, idly tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb. 

You perk up. “Of?”

“Your ability to embrace the future. It’s brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you sweatdrop, itching your cheek. “I wouldn’t call it bravery. Maybe security? I’m—yeah, I’m secure with the route I’ve taken in life.”

“You’re secure with white collar work?”

“I can’t see myself in any other profession,” you smile, flicking him a brow. “What about you?”

Honesty permitted, Nanami would describe his job as the bane of his misery. There used to be a point in his life in which he was sure that this was his ultimate goal: a senior executive position with an esteemed, high-profile company. Younger Nanami was content to endure years of early mornings and late nights with busy schedules jammed in between because it’d all be worth it when he finally tastes that sweet senior title. Except, now he’s tasted it. He’s licked it dry, and despite that, that feeling of fulfillment Nanami had been vying for his whole career remains frustratingly dormant. The notion that this will be his routine until retirement kills him.

He chews thoughtfully on a sliver of pancake before responding. “We touched on this a little over text.”

“You want to travel.”

You remembered. He hums. “I do.”

“And you want a family.”

“I do,” Nanami sighs longingly. 

You don’t make an effort to stifle a chuckle at his supposed foolishness. Shaking your head and cutting your eggs with the blunt side of a fork; “You talk about these things as if it’s all some sort of cushiony pipe dream. It’s really fucking hilarious all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Perplexed, Nanami pries for an expansion. 

And with all the seriousness in the world, you begin to count on your digits. “You are probably the most charming, most intelligent, most wealthy—”

“Y/n,” Nanami yawps at your conviction. When you jest, you do it in such an obvious way. He’s come to familiarize himself with the clever quirk of your mouth’s corner, or that playfully irritating glint in your smile-squinted eyes. But now, Nanami can’t find any evidence of joking in your stoney expression. You’re sincere when you say these things about him. It makes his heart pound so viciously that it vibrates his ear drums. 

“Most hard-working man I’ve ever met.” Unfazed by his apparent flusteredness, you finish with a nonchalant shrug. “Just funny, is all, that you of all people are stressing over these things when you have the ingredients to make your ambitions a reality.”

“Your compliments are… thanked…” The blonde ducks his head in an awkward, halfhearted bow, “but I can’t ever hope to truly begin my life when I don’t have the time granted to do so.” Nanami touches an index and middle finger to his temple, rubbing in soothing circles. It doesn’t do much to quell the oncoming migraine that this nightmarish topic never fails to cast upon him. “I’ve tried. Believe me when I say that I have worked my ass off trying to balance my job alongside nurturing a relationship. But I’ve come to realize how unfair of me that is—to ask a woman to bear with my neglect because I got held up at the office for the fifth night in a row. A relationship isn’t much of a relationship at all if both people still feel lonely.”

Unbeknownst to him, his tone had slipped away for a moment. He became bitter, recalling the lineup of failures that made up his dating history. Bitter and lonely. It’s been almost two years now that Nanami has abandoned the dating scene, if not for his sake than for the sake of his next girlfriend. Though, he can’t help but have moments of tenderness in which he thinks that maybe all of his occupational achievements would have been more gratifying if he had someone to share them with.

He clears his throat, lowering his voice back down when he apologizes for getting emotional. 

“Don’t say sorry.” You offer a reassuring grin. “I’m sorry for assuming shit about your life. That was uncool of me.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Nanami parrots, returning your grin with a sheepish one of his own, and tilts his head toward his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly mind the compliments.”

“Conceited bastard.”

He hides his simper well behind his mug. “I’d still like to know what makes you happy, if that offer is still on the table.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just would like to.” Nanami licks his lower lip, eyes grazing yours. “Do I need a more convoluted reason than that?”

Your face reads like a book. It tells him don’t be a smartass, so he yields to your unimpressed frown. “You’re not gonna like my answer. Working makes me happy.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him. “You are demonstrably proficient, Y/n. In my professional opinion, I have no doubts that you’ll be successful.” Nanami does his best to mirror your sincerity. 

“More successful than you?” You tease.

“Oh forget me, I give it five years before you’re replacing Gakuganji,” he laughs gently before pressing a finger to his lips, mimicking secrecy. “Let’s keep that between us, though.”

“The day you take orders from me is the day I can die happy.”

I wouldn’t mind that day.

“But to be honest, I think it cuts deeper than the success aspects. Ah, It’s kinda hard to put it into words…” You take a moment to string together an explanation while Nanami waits patiently. “I’m sort of a mess in my personal life. I fuck a lot of things up, I make bad judgement calls, I can get a little lazy sometimes—I just do shit wrong. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.”

Nanami hangs on every word.

“So, like, to come to work everyday and be organized and–and put on this presentation of competency,” your tongue clicks sweetly, “I need that. I need people to see me that way—I think that’s why it affected me so much when you… when you saw me…”

“At the party?” He clarifies.

You purr in agreement. “Yeah. That. I felt like, I don't know, like I shattered my whole ‘persona’ and you saw me. You really saw me.”

He can’t look away from you. The way you’re visibly shrinking, collapsing in on yourself like a wounded animal. Constricting your own torso with your arms in a self-soothing hug. Are you ashamed? 

When Nanami finally speaks, he keeps his voice calm. Soft and cottony. “Do you always have such degrading thoughts about yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call it degradation…”

“I would.” Brows furrow, and he leans further into the conversation with his elbows on the island’s surface. “You talk about yourself as if you’re two separate people.”

“Don’t you see it, too?” You ask him gravely, as though you’re hinging on Nanami’s opinion. Like his insubstantial assessment of you is the only thing that matters. “You won’t offend me, I swear.”

Unperturbed, he blinks. “Not at all.”

“Then you’re fucking blind,” you cluck. “Those glasses aren’t doing much for you.”

Nanami nips the inner seam of his cheek, unamused. Right now, he isn’t much in the mood for jokes. Not when he now understands the extent of the disdain that you have for yourself. It irks him that you can’t see how rare of a person you are. 

“My eyesight has no relevance, stop deflecting with humor.” “I’m not deflecting!”

“Yes, you are. Now please, stop and let me talk for a moment,” Nanami shows you his palm, and you find your silence. “You are not two people, Y/n, you’re just one. Just you. Sure, you have your quirks and flaws—as does everyone else—but they are what makes you you. They make you nice to be around.”

“You think I’m nice to be around?”

“We meet nearly every weekend now, have you been under the impression that I hated your presence?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. I assumed you were still hanging out with me because you felt like you owed me. Which you totally did, by the way.” You purse your lip together, stiff. “But, um, your debt has long been paid, especially with this delicious breakfast. So… y’know, if you don’t want to go out, you can just tell me.”

A breathy, humorous exhale huffs through Nanami’s nostrils. “I am a grown man. If I don’t want to do something, then I won’t do it. This,” he gestures between himself then you, “isn’t occurring out of pity or some strange form of charity. You’re here right now because I want you to be, okay?”

That little declaration pulls a coy smile from you, something Nanami introspectively overthinks. He tells himself that you’re blushing, just barely noticeable past your complexion. “Okay.” You whisper, the apples of your cheeks more pronounced than he’s ever seen them before.

Baring witness to a skittish Y/n was not on the docket for Nanami’s Sunday. He’s aware that this little discussion should stop. It was enroute to breaching something—something intimate and foreign and never to be acknowledged between you both. Unspoken chemistry that Nanami intended to let shrivel up and rot within his core because he doesn’t have the strength to snuff out the beacon of light you’ve shown in his life when he inevitably ruins yet another relationship.

But…

“I’ve had more fun in the past month than in my twenty-seven years of life. With you, I mean. So please don’t shun the side of you that exists outside of the office, because you have this spark that I haven’t seen in any of my associates in a long time. I’m… I would be upset if you let yourself turn into another copy-and-paste corporate zombie.”

There is an obvious shift in the kitchen air. It’s blossomed deep and heavy; Nanami feels like it’s become a struggle to keep himself from sinking into the floor. Your gaze is bolted to him, his to yours, in a quiet exchange of consciousness. Can you hear his thoughts? You look at him so intensely, he fears you might be able to hear how beautiful he thinks you look under the fluorescent light bulbs fixed into the ceiling.

You slip off your stool. Nanami watches your trek around the curve of the island. Onto his side.

It’s through feathery lashes that you look up at him.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The spine you have to ask such an audacious question. Visceral palpitations strike through the beating organ in his chest. His hand brushes the ledge of the countertop, then grips it for stability. “Yes.” So attractive, that he felt he could die right now. 

“Even after I vomited on your shoes?”

“I thought you didn’t remember last night?” Nanami goads.

“It’s coming back to me.”

You feign cheekiness. “Yeah,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath for himself. “Still beautiful.”

Beautiful, even with remnants of day-old eyeliner smudges below those doe eyes. Messy in the most enticing way. An urge swells within Nanami, to cradle your precious face and swipe the makeup off your flesh with his thumb. However, you moved first.

Reaching upwards, you pluck the pair of glasses off his nose. He lets you. Folded, they sit on the island.

Nanami gives a subtle shake of his head, tonguing the sharp corner of his lip. “What are you doing?” It comes out hushed, like he’s telling a secret.

“I don’t know,” you reply impishly. 

The following events can only be categorized as amorous. Ever so slowly, your hand touches. Pressing to his chest, feeling every valley and peak on its ascension to his collarbone. It peeks out from over top the collar of his raggedy, white tee shirt, and you feel him there. Offhandedly, he believes this may be the first time you’ve seen him outside of suitwear. Long, languid breaths keep him grounded, but Nanami can barely stand this torture. Though for you, he does. He lets you touch everything you want, biting his lip all the while. 

“What are you doing?” It comes again, more breathy than the last.

You don’t answer, far too enraptured by the panes of his neck. He feels you drag a fingertip down the trail of a vein. Resolve unravels, he’s slipping.

“Kento.”

If he looked into a mirror at this moment, would he even recognize himself? Nanami knows he’s a better man than this. It should take more than the pillowy drawl of his name to snap the wavering thread of self-discipline within him. 

Chest touches chest; he’s got you trapped against the kitchen island. The same island you both were sharing breakfast with five minutes ago. The same island, Nanami kisses you now.

Your face is sandwiched between two large hands. Nanami holds you to him, angling your neck back so he can grind his tongue deeper into your warm throat. There is no buildup, no preemptive apprehension that repels him from committing to bury himself in your mouth. He kisses you with no regrets, just desire and stifling yearning. 

Moans vibrate the slobbery mess. Nanami feels a bouquet of fingers latch onto his hip and pull—he rewards you, sucking sensually against the tip of your tongue. It’s fucking hot. He’s hot. And hard. Nanami’s sweating. He’s grabbing. He’s rubbing. He’s—-

Beep!

The kiss stops synchronously with twin gasps. You gawk up at him, wide-eyed at the sudden auditory intrusion. He’s looking right back down at you, panting. 

“It's the oven.”

“Oh.”

All the passion had seemingly drained, Nanami felt the altar in the atmosphere. With all the reluctance in the world, he pushes himself back to give you sizable space. Unsure of how this aftermath would play out. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, swabbing excess saliva from his chin with a palm. “I uhm—I was baking some bread.”

You nod, avoiding eye contact. “That’s cool.”

You look mortified, and that makes him feel mortified. “Y/n, I’m sorry for—”

“It’s fine.”

His heart sinks to his guts. “No, it’s not fine. Please, let me ap—”

“Kento,” you cut him off, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Like, at all, so stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

Nanami’s brows pinch together, and he gapes at that. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong either.” You don’t seem to believe him, what with the way you sway from left foot to right foot, hands twiddling restlessly. Cautious, he takes a step closer. “You look anxious. I’m by no means kicking you out, but I don’t want to keep you here if it makes you uncomfortable. Just say the word and I’ll call you a ride home.”

A sigh graces your kiss-swollen lips, and you bow graciously. “Please, that would be great, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nanami says gently, moving to fish his phone out of the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. “Of course.”

“I’ll go change out of your clothes—”

“Keep them on, I insist.” He’s quick to halt you. “And leave yours upstairs, I’ll run them through the washing machine. We can exchange them tomorrow.”

“I—okay, thank you.” You look so apologetic, it wounds him. “Thank you for everything. For taking me home last night, for breakfast, for–for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you’re very welcome.”

Your taxi shows up a few minutes later. It’s hard to watch you go, especially when you left him on dubious terms. Were you upset by his kiss? Nanami hopes to God that’s not the case. Or maybe you were appalled? Fearful, even? 

Nanami needs to turn his brain off—this cancerous spiral of thinking would only send him into a dark pit of guilt, and he had a web meeting later in the evening. After washing the dishes leftover from the breakfast endeavor, he sits on the sofa with his head in his hands

You tasted like fucking maple syrup.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni @lololooolleonnaaa @nanamiswife22 @r0ckst4rjk jk @mizzfizz @saiki-enthusiast @taelattecookie @enchantingkitty @kindadolly @reinam00n @hqtoge @syamamas @numblytemporary @xxravenxstarxx-blog @bloomedintome @guacam011y @jameinfrau @luvvmae @kazisupreme @nowhoremones @https-tank @venjrnjrbhrr19 @ya9amicide @darkstarlight82 @archivefortoji @alczam02 @kaiparkerwifes @kenz1eluvs @iaminyourfloors @queeen-goldfish @beautifulloverwitch @nxuriah @invisible-mori @hexrts-anatomy @katharinasdiaryy @moonlightazriel @mermaidian02 @squishies0102 @saintkaylaa @vi-ola666 @alettertonana @seeyapizzazz @jtoddlover @macthevirgo

[anakinstwinklebunny]

STALKER!NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort. Death, murderer, swearing, weird behavior, psycho behavior

Author's note: got inspired by amazing @xzaddyzanakinx, check her sutff out, it's wayyy better!!!

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who at the beginning seemed like a normal cute nerd

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who would write down every small detail he learned about you in his special notebook

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who would get nervous whenever the math class was about to begin (just because you're in it too). He doesn't have a problem with math, hell, he loves this subject but not as much as he loves you. His eyes would time to time move towards to where you're sitting, his cheeks heating up as he tries to pretend he's actually paying attention to what teacher says

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin whose one of the main wishes was to finally catch your attention. To make you notice him; his love for you, his unconditional commitment, his deep interest in everything you do - from your voice to your every small part on your body. It was something he wished and prayed for, to finally catch your gaze longer than one mere second

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who began fantasizing about you late at night to make himself fall asleep sometimes

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who, when you once struggled with your laptop in class, Anakin, the tech whiz, offered to help you out. He found it as a perfect opportunity to finally have his first real interaction with you. Although nervousness creeped all over his body, stopping right at his cheeks to make them rosy. His hands were gentle as they glided over the keyboard, but you had no idea that while he was fixing your issue, he was also installing a program that gives him remote access to your laptop. He smiled at you after, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, and you thanked him—unaware that he had just gained access to every aspect of your life.

Later that night, as you were working, you noticed your laptop screen flickering for a moment. Although you brushed it off, not realizing Anakin is on the other end, watching you through your webcam. His breath catched in his throat as he watched you. The heat he couldn't just ingore rising inside him whenever he imagined what it would be like to have you by his side..every.single.day

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who's always in the library, studying furiously or working on some coding project. Yet one day, you left a book behind on accident, and of course, he’s the one who finds it. Instead of returning it to you, Anakin uses it as an excuse to hold onto something of yours—your scent lingering on the pages (at least he thinks it lingers, that it's still there), your small scribbled notes on the margins. And the way his heartbeat quickened whenever he held something you did just second ago - it was so thrilling

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who after the laptop 'help', brought himself the courage to talk to you. At first, he made sure to make it time to time and a small talks - about lessons you've just had, sometimes he tried to gossip (for the first time) about teachers he actually liked (but knew you hated) in jokey way to make you smile and agree at what he's saying - so he did baby steps that hopefully would let him get closer.

He was always obssesing over these talks, always came up to you with flushed cheeks, trying to ignore your sceptical-looking friends. Although he cursed himself after every interaction with you just because he stuttered a lot, and he wanted to make the best impression on you as possible (but who would have known that you finded it cute)

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who gave himself time (but with his often excitement it was hard) to gain your trust, to 'know' you even better than what he knew already (so you wouldn't be suspicious about him knowing certain stuff)

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was thrilled to help you with subjects you sucked at. Often staying just for you long hours in the library after lessons;

"Hi, Annie."

That soft, sugar-sweet voice pulled Anakin out of his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. He looked up, and there you were—his Aphrodite, his goddess—smiling at him, your eyes bright as you took a seat next to him, your math books gently landing on the library's wooden table.

Anakin froze for a moment, his mind swirling. How was it that you could always leave him feeling like this—flustered, vulnerable? His usual composure disappeared every time you came near. He was used to watching you from afar, secretly lingering in the shadows, but now as you were right next to him, close enough that he could smell your perfume, his mind went dizzy

He swallowed hard, trying to control the quickened beat of his heart. “Hi, y/n he said softly, forcing a gentle smile. “So, what do you need help with today?”

You sighed, flipping open your math book, brows furrowing in that adorable way you always did when you were concentrating. “sequences... I don’t get it.”

Anakin's heart lifted slightly at the request. This was his chance—his moment to shine before you. “Don’t worry, I'll help you"

"That’s so stupid," you muttered, grimacing at the another math problem in front of you. You've been doing this shit for what felt like hours and you could feel your brain slowly release more and more smoke

Anakin only chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s not stupid. You’re just learning it. Trust me, math can save your life.”

The phrase almost made you vomit “That’s a bold statement.”

He grinned, watching your pencil scratch against the paper, marveling at how even something so mundane looked graceful in your hands. “Bold but true,” he teased. “If you were stranded on a deserted island without a signal, you'd need math to find your way back home.” he folded his hands between his legs, offering you this small smile

you huffed “I’d need a map, not math.”

“And how do you think they make maps?” he shot back with a smug smirk on his face. He was nothing like this shy, stuttering guy you knew just time ago. It was more endearing, in a way “Math. Without it, you wouldn’t have a map in the first place.”

You bit your lip in thought, a small furrow appearing on your brows as you glanced back at the task in front of you. The way your lips pouted slightly as you tried to focus made Anakin’s heart skip a beat. “Math is a haunting beast,” you sighed, writing the example down. “It doesn’t help you; it ruins you.”

Anakin chuckled again, shaking his head. “That’s just a matter of perspective.” His voice softened, dropping a little lower “You just haven’t seen it the right way. I can change that, you know.”

“Can you?” your tone teasing but laced with curiosity.

“If you let me, absolutely.” His eyes sparkled while watching you, drinking in every detail of your face. He had never been this close to you ever before. And oh God, he loved it so much. He could smell the faint scent of your vanilla perfumes, every inch of your skin seemed so touchable..so soft..so-- “But you’ve got to take it seriously. Otherwise, how can I help you?”

“I am taking it seriously, Anakin. You know I’m thankful for all the time and effort you put into this.”

The word time echoed in Anakin’s mind, sending a rush of emotion through him. Time—that precious thing he spent obsessing over you, watching your every move, memorizing every little detail about you.. If only you knew how deep his admiration went, how he lived for these moments alone with you..maybe you would understand that you deserve better than some jerk you've been dating. That you deserved someone who would want to know you, who would fall to his knees and beg to know you..who would do it all just for a small glimpse of your face in the sunglight

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured, his smirk returning. “I’m always happy to help you, y/n.”

He kept the conversation light and playful, teasing you just enough to make you smile, to keep your attention on him. Just as he always dreamed. He wanted this moment to last forever—to bask in your presence, in the warmth of your voice, in the sweetness of your laughter. He wanted you to feel how much he cared, even if he couldn’t tell you the whole truth yet

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who hated your boyfriend;

“Y/n!” Jack’s sharp voice sliced through Anakin’s thoughts like a knife. “Pack your things, we’re leaving. Now.” The coldness in Jack’s tone made Anakin’s blood boil. How could anyone speak to you like that? Anakin would never dream of using such a harsh tone with you. Never.

“But I’m doing math ri—"

“Don’t care,” Jack snapped, cutting you off. “Pack your damn things. We’re leaving.”

The cruelty in Jack’s voice made Anakin seethe. The way he talked to you—like you were nothing—made his hands curl into fists under the table. Red-hot anger coursed through him, almost blinding him. Jack had no right. No right to speak to youlike that, to treat you like you were disposable. His heart pounded in his chest, the familiar obsessive urge to protect you, to be the one who cherished you, rising uncontrollably. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt or disrespected by anyone, least of all by someone like Jack.

Jack caught Anakin’s stare, eyes narrowing with disdain. “What are you looking at, nerd?” His voice was full of arrogance and venom

Anakin’s eyes flashed with rage as he turned to meet Jack’s gaze, nails digging into his skin. He wanted to punch that smug look right off his face. Oh, how satisfying it would be to watch him fall. But Jack was taller, broader, physically stronger..yet..biology confirmed that people under different emotions are able to do impossible..so could it possibly mean..

“Jack, calm down,” you interjected softly, your voice shaking just a little as you tried to smooth things over without another cut skin and running blood. “Anakin was just helping me with math.”

Yet, Jack barely glanced at you, keeping his gaze locked on Anakin's face. Both of them looked as if they were about to throw their fists on themselves. Yet, Anakin wasn't the type of guy to hurt someone..right? “Whatever. If you’re not outside in five minutes, I’m leaving without you.”

Anakin’s blood ran cold as Jack stormed out of the library. The familiar feeling of being a failure, of possibly dissapointing you because he haven't done anything, didn't stand up and react at your boyfriend's behaviour corrupted his mind. What had he just done? He was supposted to protect you, and yet, here he was sitting like a failure. This tense, uncomfortable silence did not help him. Especially when your face flushed with embarrassment, your once-bright smile long gone. What had he just done? You looked down, fiddling nervously with your pencil before turning to Anakin.

“I’m so sorry about him,” you whispered “He’s just… having a bad day, I guess. Please don’t take it personally.”

Anakin wanted to scream. Bad day? That was your excuse? You were too kind, too forgiving. Jack didn’t deserve your apologies or your understanding. Anakin’s anger roared inside him like a beast, barely contained beneath his calm exterior. Jack wasn’t just having a bad day—he was a bully, plain and simple. And Anakin hated him for it. He wanted to protect you from this, from Jack’s cruel words and rough edges. Because you deserved to be treated like a queen, not like some accessory Jack could toss around whenever he felt like it.

So there was this question ringing in his ears again - what had he just done?

“It’s okay,” he replied softly, though his voice was tight with the effort it took to hold back his anger.

You offered him a nervous smile, the light that usually brightened your face now dimmed by Jack’s harshness. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t keep you any longer… but maybe we can catch up another time?”

Before Anakin could respond, you took his pen and started scribbling something in his notebook. Your soft hand moved gracefully over the page, your pretty handwriting was what captured his attention completely. He loved how even the smallest, most mundane actions were captivating when it came to you. Because for him, you could make something as simple as writing your name feel like magic.

When you finished, you handed the notebook back to him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “It’s my number,” you said, drawing a small smiley face beside it. “We can plan another time for tutoring.”

Your number. Your phone number. Anakin stared at the page in disbelief, his heart hammering in his chest. You had just given him a direct line to you. To you. His obsession surged, almost overwhelming him. He could barely keep his hands from trembling when he took in the sight on the paper. This was it—his way into your life.

“Sure. W-we can,” he said, trying to suppress the massive grin that threatened to take over his face. “Anytime.”

you smiled again, but it was smaller now, hesitant. Your eyes flickered toward the door, where Jack had disappeared moments earlier. “Thanks again, Anakin. I’m really sorry about Jack…i-I should get going before he leaves me stranded.”

Anakin watched you pack your things, his pulse quickening with each movement you made. God, you were so perfect, so sweet, even in the face of Jack’s cruelty. And you deserved better—better than Jack, better than anyone. He even knew he doeasn't deserve you, because for him, you were more than a human. His eyes each time saw you in angelic, heavenly way. As if God alone had sent you on earth to torment him for his sins, to make him suffer. You were so pure, and he so sinful.. so..dirty in all kind of sins. He didn't feel worthy enough to even be in your presence, yet he wanted it more than anything in the world

But if you'd give him only a chance, he'd be yours. Completely. Body and soul. Without exception

“I’ll see you later, Annie,” you mumbled softly, flashing him one last smile before heading towards the door.

The sound of his nickname on your lips made his whole body tingle. He barely registered you leaving, too caught up in the way you'd looked at him, the way you'd spoken to him. The way you had given him your number. It was like a dream come true. His obsession had reached a fever pitch—his heart ached for you - to have you, hold you, not let you go..

you were his, right?

at least had to be someday..

But then there was Jack. Jack, who, again, didn’t deserve you. Jack, who treated you like dirt, who took you for granted. Jack, who yelled at you , who made your smile disappear. Jack, who Anakin hated more than anyone in the world.

Anakin’s grip tightened around his notebook, his knuckles white with the pressure. He couldn’t let Jack get away with this. He couldn’t let Jack continue to be a part of your life. It was his place in your life he took, it was his destiny and fate to be someone more than just 'a nerd who helped you out'.

But again, he hadn't done anything to stop him from treating you like this. When he could, when he really had a chance to make a difference. He simply didn't

what had he just done?

Today was the day it had to change So he had decided. He would follow you, keep his distance, and watch - like he always does. He would make sure Jack never had the chance to hurt you ever again.

With his mind set, Anakin quickly packed his things, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Today Jack Scottland would meet God.

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who killed your boyfriend;

Anakin took a deep breath as he started his car, his hands trembling with barely controlled rage. Every thought, every emotion, was singular—focused on Jack. Jack had to go. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles whitened, his breath coming out in shallow bursts. This was it. No turning back. Jack was the obstacle, the barrier between him and you. His mind wouldn’t let him rest until Jack was out of the picture—forever.

As he followed Jack’s car down the quiet road, he could feel his heartbeat quickening, pulsing in his ears. Jack, once more, didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. Anakin’s blood boiled as he replayed Jack’s words in his head—the way he had spoken to you in the most controlling, cruel, disgusting way possible. He couldn’t stand it any longer. If he didn’t do something now, he’d explode.

When Jack pulled into an empty pullout far from your house, Anakin’s pulse raced from adrenaline. This was it. His moment. Now or never.

Anakin slowed his car and parked a few meters behind, eyes locked on Jack’s vehicle. His hands still shook as he opened the trunk, pulling out his baseball bat. The weight of it felt right, felt powerful. This wasn’t a game anymore—this was war. War that he promised himself to win, to never loose, because his thropy is more than anything he could have in his life. it was you Adrenaline pumping through his blood system, perfectly mixing with the uncontrollable rage he’d been bottling up for too long.

Jack was sitting in his car, lazily scrolling through his phone, completely unaware. Anakin’s stomach twisted in disgust. He didn’t care, didn’t even realize how much of a monster he was. The sight of Jack sitting there, nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just torn you apart with his words, made Anakin sick. He had to do this. He had to protect you.

Anakin approached, bat gripped tightly in his hand, tapping it lightly against the car window. The sharp sound snapped Jack’s attention.

“Get out,” Anakin hissed, his voice low and dangerous as if he was a completely diffrent person

Emotions, especially at a high intensity, impact our ability to make rational decisions - nature echoed amongst the pure hatred

“What?” Jack’s expression shifted from confusion to irritation as he slowly lowered the window.

“I said get the fuck out of the car.”

Jack sighed, clearly annoyed as he pushed open the car door, stepping out with a condescending sneer. “Listen, man, I don’t know what your prob—”

The moment Jack’s foot hit the ground, Anakin swung. The bat connected with a sickening crunch against Jack’s side, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt of pain. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he gasped for air, clutching his ribs. Yet, Anakin didn’t hesitate; he stepped closer, the fury burning brighter with each moment.

“You think you can treat her like that and just get away with it?” Anakin’s voice was harsh, gritted through clenched teeth as he stood over Jack, eyes wild with fury.

Jack groaned, rolling onto his back, blood dribbling from his lips."What the hell are you talking about?"

anakin's jaw clenched "pathetic excuse of a man"

Before Jack could add anything, Anakin brought the bat down hard, aiming for his head. Jack rolled out of the way just in time, the bat slamming into the dirt beside him. The impact sent a jolt through Anakin’s arms, but he didn’t stop. He swung again, but Jack was quicker this time, scrambling to his feet and grabbing hold of the bat, yanking it toward him.

For a brief moment, they struggled, locked in a vicious tug of war with the bat. Jack, stronger and bigger, managed to kick Anakin hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Anakin gasped, stumbling backward, but the rage inside him only intensified.

Jack seized the opportunity, landing a brutal punch to Anakin’s face, sending blood spraying from his nose. The taste of iron filled his mouth, but it didn’t matter. He barely felt the pain. All he could think about was Jack—the smug look on his face, the way he had spoken to you, belittled you.

Anakin roared, using the force of his rage to swing the bat hard against Jack’s face, smashing into his cheekbone with a sickening crack. Blood splattered across the side of the car as Jack crumpled to the ground, his face a mangled mess of blood and broken skin.

But Jack wasn’t done yet. He spat blood from his busted lips, managing a weak chuckle “So this is about her, huh? You’re fucking pathetic, man. You think beating me up will make her love you? You’re fucking psycho. She’ll hate you more than she ever hated me.”

Anakin’s vision blurred with anger, anger, nothing but anger, everything going red. He swung the bat again, this time aiming for Jack’s chest. Jack barely managed to roll out of the way, but not fast enough—Anakin’s bat clipped his shoulder with enough force to make the bones crack. Jack screamed, the sound piercing the night air, but Anakin didn’t care.

Jack lunged at Anakin, tackling him to the ground, fists flying. The two of them grappled in the dirt, blood mixing with sweat as they traded blows. Jack landed a solid punch to Anakin’s jaw, sending him reeling. Blood dripped from both their faces, coating their clothes in crimson colour.

"fucking--" another hit to anakin's face "psycho--" he panted, but before he could aim another hit, anakin grabbed his wrist, rolling them over

After mucch hits, anakin twisted his body, managing to grab the bat again, using it as leverage to slam Jack’s head to the ground. Blood slipped everywhere, yet it wasn't enough. With shaky legs, Anakin stood up and grabbed a handful of jack's hair only to smack his face into the side of his own car. The crack of Jack’s skull against the car's doors made Anakin feel an intense surge of power, almost a twisted satisfaction. Jack groaned, as if it was the only sound that could leave his already shattered face

yet it wasn't enough

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who, with great care, made sure to get rid off any tools of the crime - he was awfully smart for that. It was almost weird..how a man who was his parent's contentment, now just killed a guy for a girl he was obsessed about..

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who had a special folder for the videos from the camera on your laptop, special folder for your photos he was obsessing about even after such a long time, he still collected new things

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was nervous (but tried to hide it) when police found Jack's body.

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was for you when you grieved over the death of your toxic ex and months later, his wildest dreams came true - he was dating you. Was free to worship you, admire you.

He was addicted to you even more after the first date. Because this time, it was him who made you smile so much your cheeks hurt. It was him who made you laugh till your stomach hurt. It was the only type of pain he let himself give you

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who felt extremely free in your presence. All his fantasies, all his dreams came true. He almost felt like on a cloud nine - so perfect, so light, so happy (despite of what he had done);

“Gonna keep teasing me like this all the time?” he asked with a lazy grin, propped up on one elbow on the bed.

“I’m not teasing you,” you replied with playfulness “Just showing off my new dress.”

The dress, a deep shade of red, highlighted your curves and drew attention to your most elegant lines. It clung to your form in all the right places, making you look absolutely stunning.

His eyes wandered over you, taking in every detail. The way the dress accentuated your body left him breathless. You were beautiful in everything you wore, but this dress—this was something extraordinary. “So, you put this on just to make me feral? Because you’re definitely succeeding.” he chuckled, leaning up on his elbow.

“I just wanted to know if you like it,” your smirk deepening as you gracefully crawled onto his lap, like a cat curling up to its favorite spot.

“Oh, I definitely like it,” his voice filled with admiration and a hint of playfulness. “But it’s not just the color that’s catching my attention.” His eyes roamed over your curves with unabashed appreciation once more.

“Oh really?” you giggled, your laughter a sweet melody that seemed to enchant him further. Your smile was radiant, and the way you looked at him made his heart swell.

“Mhm,” he responded, his own smile widening as he pulled you closer. His eyes continued their admiring journey “You’re so, so gorgeous. Did you really think I wouldn’t like it?” his fingers gently grazing the hem of your dress.

“I hoped you’d drool all over it, to be honest” your smile playful and tender as you delicately removed his glasses and put them on yourself.

Anakin’s smile grew even wider. The sight of you wearing his glasses, combined with the way you sat on his lap, made him feel like the luckiest man alive. His joy was almost overwhelming. He could barely contain his excitement. “I’d drool over you in anything, you know that,” his voice filled with adoration and a hint of humor. His heart was soaring, knowing that this perfect moment, with you, was his reality. "Even in a potato sack"

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who had a deep need to observe you 24/7, at least in most of his free time. Because what if someone will hurt you? Or you'll hurt yourself and he'd not know, appear too late to help. So, he felt obligated to watch you

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who stole some of your panties when you weren't looking and kept them in his apartment, not daring himself to even think about putting them into a washing machine

Stalker!Nerd!Anakin who was horribly obsessed with leaving marks all over your body;

“You’re leaving me hickeys,” you whined, glancing at the mirror to see the fresh, juicy marks on your neck to collection

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a smirk, wrapping his arms around your waist to connect his lips with your (this time) exposed shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites. The hickeys were more than just marks—they were declarations of his love, signs that you were his and his alone. He wanted everyone to see that you belonged to him. And if people wouldn't see your marks, he wanted to make sure you would knew who you belong to. His lips moved to your ear, whispering the phrase that made you shiver “Though I’d say my favorite is still the one on your ass.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you flushed and headed back to the bed

He chuckled, settling beside you and immediately pulling you close. His arms wrapped around your frame and he nuzzled into your neck, planting more kisses, and adding to the huge collection of hickeys. “I think you should get it tattooed,” he suggested playfully, his lips brushing against your skin

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[kabukiaku]

I was reminded today of one of my favorite personal headcanons I have for Terzo: he is an absolute film slut. especially for old Hollywood + pre-code horror and drama movies. he would either have original film reels or the remastered collector's editions in DVD format. he plays them in his carefully cared-for old film projector...or for the remastered ones, a digital projector on those pull-down screens you see in classrooms. he has one installed in his room for his convivence.

Ask him about his interest, and he will go on talking someone's ear off with commentary about the movies---er excuse me--- films centric themes, motifs, plot and literally anything you'd catch in a director's commentary edition. he has a list of favorite actors/actresses from the time and will have framed photos of them in his room. (which speaking of, takes inspo from art deco)

I actually have a doodle i made a while back on what 'A Date with Papa III' would be like, and the expectations were far beyond what one would expect. oh, sure he has his suave way of words and looks, but he truly is a film nerd and will not shy away from it.

for now have this silly doodle:

His prized and restored 1930s 40s Specto 16mm Movie Projector. nicknamed 'Stella'.

No one is allowed to touch it. Not even Omega. (out of everyone though, Terzo trusts him the most. but still- NO TOUCH)

[wayfayrr]

Self aware tears in stardew -

Just got a set of headcanons here that started as an idea with @h4wari on discord - just a few headcanons to ease myself back into writing as I start on the raffle prizes!! Just the idea of what if one of the links could find their way into a different game?

[masterlist]

✦ It started a while after he’s already self aware, having slowly ‘come to his senses’ over the course of you playing TotK. picking up on small details like the quest signs and buttons like the flurry rush prompt. 

✦ but… you finished his game, sure you still played it occasionally but not as often as you used to. Leaving him desperate to be with you again. Willing to do anything to be able to hear your voice again. 

✦ It isn’t exactly hard for him to get out of the game and into the switch proper, and after that it’s easier again to get onto your wifi and into your pc. It does take him a little bit to poke around in it, to find whatever it was that you abandoned him for. And more importantly find his way into it.

✦ Stardew wasn’t exactly what he expected to find, something this cozy? It’s almost dreamlike to him. But with how many mods there are already? It wasn’t exactly all that hard to make himself a mod to add an NPC - people love TotK anyway, how hard would it be to believe that there is a mod for it?

✦ The painful part is waiting for you to download it, because he knows that installing it himself would give it away to easily. 

✦ Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait too long, a few days at most till you get the mod, and your happiness makes it so worth it.

✦ He blends in surprisingly well, having coded himself a small winery similar to the Blue Moon vineyard. Seeing as it’s something he thought would be interesting to do when the game isn’t actively running, and wouldn’t you prefer the expensive gifts? 

✦ it’s not quite the same as being with you or having you with him, or even the same feeling as having your control over his body. But he can’t say that having you try to max out his hearts isn’t lovely, he just wishes that there wasn’t still a screen between you.  - There’s only a matter of time until he deals with that though, he'll have you in his arms before you know it

[writinandcrying]

TMNT HEADCANON / how the turtles text

A lot can be said from how someone express themselves through texting, so this is just some crack / light headcanons !

Not really based on a single version per say, more that turtles have been deprived of social interaction for the majority of their life and I think texting them would be an very interesting experience lol

Idea based on @avery73 last random turtle post (thanks for being one of our strongest soldiers and writing wonderful pieces 🫡) English is not my first language and I didn’t proofread this, if there is any grammatical erros pls don’t hesitate to tell me!

Mikey

🎢 Single texts

🎢 Just like this

🎢 Loads of it

🎢 You got 60 new messages

🎢 in the past 2 minutes

🎢 Loads of gifs too

🎢 And voice memos

🎢Oh look

🎢6 personality tests links

🎢What do you mean you won’t do it

🎢He needs to know what kind of cupcake you are!!!!

🎢 And music recs

🎢 Your phone won’t stop vibrating

🎢 for the next weeks

🎢 After you meet him (Honestly really annoying unless you have a crush on him)

🎢 For the latinos/latinas; if he EVER finds out about WhatsApp and the stickers. Oh you are so done. If you have an older phone that shit WILL blow up / malfunction for SURE

🎢 uses TONS OF EMOJIS !!!!! 😍😍😝🤪😋🤩AND CAPS AS WELL!!! 🥳😽✌️👅🗣️

🎢Mikey live reaction when you ask if he’s upset that you asked him to tone it down a notch with the texting on a busy day:

🎢 Will lowkey tone it down with the emojis when he finds out some ppl find it cringe, but with his angels cakes ???????? 🫵 YOU BET 🗣️ HE WILL SHOW YOU WITH IT 💋🫦💅🏻🤳🏼💃🏻🕺🏽🙈🦋🌺🧡🌚🌻🔥💥🌟

🎢Will accidentally send you some random ass emoji that wasn’t supposed to be on the context of the text, also the autocorrect is def not his friend

Mikey : how’s it going baby gorila

Mikey: babygirl*

Mikey:

Mikey: I’m sorry

🎢 adds emojis to very contacts in his t-phone:

Leo: Leader of the pack 🐺 🐢 🫡

Donnie: Eistein 📚🧬⚗️ (Raph also shares this name on his t-cell)

Raph: Murderous teddy bear 🧸 🧨

Splinter: Mafia Boss 🪤 (no one knows about this name tho)

April: Chanel N.6 🎤(or World of Apes 🦧 lmao)

Casey: New York Hockey League 🏒

Vern: Some dude (adds 🦅 so he knows it’s Vern and not “some random dude”)

Y/n: angelcakes pookie wookie baby boo boo love of my life !!!!!! 😍🥰👀🧚🏻‍♂️

🎢Mikey live reaction when Raph yells at him to stop flooding the chat, followed by mikey texting him “make me” (they are sitting next to each other):

Donnie

🔭Huge blocks of it in the speed of light. many topics, many questions and also explanations at just one sitting

🔭But won’t hold back on a smart ass short cut response for one his brothers (literally has the sharpest tongue)

🔭Will hardly uses emojis, only when it’s a single text to express an emotion (most current used emojis: 🤓when he does something impressive 💜: for y/n 🙄: when venting about something annoying Leo / Mikey / Raph did)

🔭Will want to discuss random ass problems he has encountered in his projects, in forums online, specially if you ever show interest in debating / doesnt hold back into showing your strong opinions

🔭 Has named their brothers as “Failed Lab Experiments” and managed to color code their messages (has the only t-phone that has this feature)

🔭Donnie creating the most unique and smartass way to charge his phone just cuz he can:

🔭Deadass his reaction when texting his crush 👀:

🔭 Has modified Mikey’s phone so he doesn’t have access to emojis for a whole week after his baby brother decided to spam him “out of no where” (after Donnie won consecutively 10 Mario Kart matches AND ate the last 2 slices of cold pizza)

🔭Result: mikey spammed EVEN MORE and only spoke to EVERYONE by Japanese emojis. Leo and Raph begged demanded that donnie install his emojis back cuz they were DONE with the whole situation

Failed lab experiment N.4: ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ" °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° (♡´౪`♡)

Failed lab experiment N.1: Stop.

Failed lab experiment N.4: ┬┴┬┴┤ᵒᵏ (･_├┬┴┬┴ Failed lab experiment N.4: (;﹏;)

Failed lab experiment N.2: You stupid IDIOT Failed lab experiment N.2: look what you've done now he’s sad

🔭 Donnie also has to deal with his brothers thinking he is their personal Google (he will always answer their questions, even out of spite):

Failed lab experiment N.4: Donnie what’s a Cochlear implant

Successful lab experiment: A small, complex electronic device that can help to provide a sense of sound to a person who is profoundly deaf or severely hard-of-hearing. The implant consists of an external portion that sits behind the ear and a second portion that is surgically placed under the skin.

Failed lab experiment N.4: :0 yikes

Failed lab experiment N.4: Okay thanks!!!!

Successful lab experiment: Stop asking me stuff when you can just Google it.

Failed lab experiment N.4: But I like talking to you 🙀😔

Failed lab experiment N.4: You are my favorite turtle Siri!!! 😉

Successful lab experiment: I’d prefer if I wasn’t... Also, why are you curious about cochlear implants?

Successful lab experiment: Mikey?

Successful lab experiment: Mikey!!!!!

(He still doesn’t know why)

Raph

🥊 Barely uses emojis. Lowkey barely texts? doesn't see the appeal to it, rather prefer to hang out with you 1 on 1 than being far away from you (will never ever admit to it. maybe after 3 years in a relationship)

🥊as a friend: he wont be the one spiking a conversation, but might keep going if he's truly bored (this is prone to happen during daylight / evening when they still can't go out) but will probably be the one to ask to hang out when he needs an outlet and such 🥊*sees messages* eh i'll reply later *completely forgets about it*

🥊 will effortlessly take the most breath-taking pictures of new york during patrol and send it to you 🥊 if you are already his s/o / someone he trusts: will most likely text you to ask about stuff (if you need anything or something he needs from topside) or to diss / vent / gossip about his brothers 🥊 will send embarrassing pictures of his brothers to you cuz he can't deal with that shit alone lmao

🥊 will either be pretty clueless with the most random ass stuff or out of propose just to tease you: y/n: jniasunoakpfa raph: what was that y/n: keyboard smash? raph: how do i do that y/n: just press anything raph: 7 🥊 Raph Live reaction as soon as he realizes he has feelings for you:

🥊 Also Raph Live reaction when he comes to terms with this feelings and has an excuse to ignore Leo (even if he doesnt like texting) just bc he can ignore Leo as he pleases:

Leo

🎏 Perfect texts 🎏 looks like an email/letter sometimes 🎏 to most people: 1 message with divided topics. pretty direct 🎏 when he can't reply right away: "Hello. I'm happy you wrote to me. I try to reply promptly but currently I'm not available at the moment-" Like omg bro RELAX. 🎏 to his s/o: 70% direct, the other 30% likes to send little reminders, either with songs or pretty things she has seen during a patrol with a "thinking of you" message. lowkey romantic when he doesn't even mean to be, def shows how thoughtful he is 🎏 prefers to call you rather than texting. especially if you are dating/has a crush on you he might not even realize why he likes calling you so much, until it hits like a brick that he just wants to hear your voice 🎏Leo when he calls you and doesn't know when to "intervene" / his time to talk back (god forbid he's unpolite and interrupts you):

lowkey him listening to April vent about smth dumb shit Casey did /any human friend venting and he doesnt know how to react lmao 🎏Just like Donnie, has favorite emojis and will only use it in specific situations (this will take time for it to happen, like after years Donnie first invented the t-phone and finally relized he didn't had to be so formal when texting): 🐢 when talking about team work or his brothers / 🪷 for meditating or mindfulness (thinks its peaceful) / 💙 for his boo and his boo only / 😏 only in a relationship, especially when he's feeling scipy (extremely rare for it to happen over text tho)

——————————————————————————

Group chat (more than one reaction)

💚 catching social cues irl can be hard, you are telling me there are hidden social cues in texting too??

💚 “Nah shut up” group, doesn’t care much about it and won’t change their ways: Leo, Raph

💚 Will research about it, will talk to every single human he knows (yes. you. Vern. Casey and April) Needs to know the social cues. NOW: lmao try to guess

💚 Also needs to know, but for meme reasons, he has to say up to date w the terminology/ slangs: another hard guess /j

💚 Oh btw, Donnie totally uses /j /Tw /srs terminology WHILE he texts fast AND huge text blocks. none of his brothers know how he does it

💚Will over use fresh lingo he has learned overhearing humans on patrol, shows, from his humans friends to the point it’s almost unbearable: Mikey ��Live reaction of Raph and Leo trying to understand when Mikey or Donnie spamming the group chat with their extremely recent memes or hyperfixations:

💚the chat WILL be flooded with things related to their favorite basketball teams, show they want to see or dumbass pictures of their daily lifes, example: Mikey: *has sent an selfie*

Mikey: you know y/n

Mikey:If you’re fortunate enough

Mikey: your internal organs will spend their entire lifespan in absolute darkness

Mikey: but mine?

April: oh boy here we go

Mikey: Hasn’t. 😏😏😏

Y/n: Oh?

Mikey: *send another selfie flexing muscles* you see when you fight crime everyday-

Raph: yeah he shallowed a glow stick

[diana-fortyseven]

I think it's time to share a secret with you: you don't have to see things you don't want to see on the internet.

Shocking, I know.

Most sites give you fairly decent tools to avoid concepts, topics, or people you don't like, and you should totally use them.

The smutty fanfic that makes you uncomfortable because it contradicts your headcanon for your favourite character? It's rated "explicit". If you click on it anyway and get angry? That's on you.

The AO3 author who keeps publishing smutty fanfics that make you uncomfortable because you don't even want to see the summaries of fics that have this one character fucking? Adjust your filters to only show you works that are rated "for general audiences" or "teen and up".

The AO3 author makes you angry now because they published so many fics you don't want to see? Mute the author. You'll never have to see any of their works ever again.

You also don't want them to interact with your fics? Block them too.

The Tumblr user who wants to see their favourite characters fuck? You can block them. It's fine. You don't need to see their posts.

Many Tumblr users want to see their favourite characters fuck? You can just filter the tags they use for talking about wanting to see their favourite characters fuck. You don't need to go into these fandoms' tags to complain about people enjoying themselves in a way you don't enjoy. The way they do fandom isn't about you. If you don't like what you see, don't go there.

I know that the tools these sites give you aren't perfect.

Tumblr for example still shows you that posts with tags you filtered exist, and you still have to scroll past them. Sometimes you don't want to block a user, you just don't want to see this one specific post or fic all the time. If you filter out a lot of things on AO3, it can be annoying to enter these filters every single time you want to browse your fandoms.

Good thing that using the internet on desktop opens a whole new world of browser extensions and user scripts for you!

Make Tumblr posts with certain tags or even words in the body of the post disappear completely? Possible with this script here. Make just this one post you hate so much disappear? Possible with this script here. Make just this one fic you hate so much disappear? Possible with this script here. Save AO3 filters? Possible with this script here.

I have this extensive collection of my favourite browser extensions and user scripts for fanfic sites on my Dreamwidth.

They're sorted by site, which makes it easier to find what you're looking for. All of them are free. Most of them can just be installed as is. If you need help with one of them you need to edit a little, let me know. I'll happily walk you through or give you the snippet of code you need to make it do what you want it to do.

Curate your own online experience. Other people on the internet aren't responsible for your decision to keep walking into spaces you don't want to be in. You can't demand that others censor themselves because you don't understand the concept of Just Not Reading Something.

(And honestly, even if you already knew that other people on the internet aren't your babysitters, you should check out my list of scripts! They're fucking amazing! :D)

[star--bird]

Headcanon that Bruce is suspicious of Clark mainly because he is an alien, but also partially because he is a Midwesterner whose kindness seems very strange to someone from the East Coast. Scenarios:

*Bruce looking outside his window and sees Clark on his roof*

Bruce: What are you doing?

Clark: Oh you know, I was in the neighborhood and remembered you mentioned having a leaky gutter so I thought I'd stop by and fix it.

Bruce, 99% certain Clark is installing listening devices: Okay...

Clark, happily fixing the gutter: No problem neighbor!

-----

(Bruce after stopping by the Kent's house to discuss something and tries to leave)

Clark: Oh, going so soon? The game just started why don't you stay for a quarter? Try one of Pa's home brewed beers? I insist.

(Bruce later tries to leave after the quarter)

Clark: Oh but we just put some brats on the grill, they're from the neighbors farm down the road. Stay! Stay! We have plenty.

(A little while later)

Clark: Oh but before you leave I want to give you some cucumbers from the garden. No, no, Ma insists, her harvest was phenomenal this season but we can't possibly eat it all ourselves! Take some tomatoes too.

(Even later after Bruce was roped into helping Mr. Kent figure out which new computer to buy and getting a free oil change on his car when he tries to leave again)

Clark: Oh but real quick if you have to go let me just give you some leftovers to take home. Also did you hear about...

Bruce, frantically texting Alfred: Code marigold, code marigold. Clark won't let me leave! It's like they are stalling me until a villain shows up. And I think the food is drugged because I keep getting roped into staying.

Alfred: Make sure to bring home some of Ma's potato salad, she has been raving about the new recipe all week.

-----

Bruce wakes up one morning to see his entire estate has been snow plowed. Alfred informs Bruce that Clark was by this morning with his new electric snow plow and did the whole thing. Bruce frantically searches through the snowbanks, looking for secret robots? More listening devices? An alien ship? He isn't quite sure.

[tuhhadkeryo]

Hacker’s real motivation

- This is 100% speculation and me attempting to add depth to a kids show villain with the only motivation of ‘gimme power cuz I’m evil nom nom nom’.

- As mentioned, I must add a touch of realism to most anything I do so I’m going to talk about Hacker’s quest for power. Where should I start? Yes, his original purpose.

- It’s mentioned that Dr.Marbles created Hacker as an assistant. The time and how he was created are very mixed in the show, with the oldest iterations showing him to be just as he is at the start - big and with a cape and evil attitude. The later in the show it gets, the younger and less intimidating he gets.

- My personal headcanons are as such - Dr. Marbles attempted to make a full grown assistant with the capability to protect, assist, and eventually take over cyberspace once Marbles became too old and Motherboard grew outdated/too old. The traits programmed were: high intelligence, leadership, confidence, independence, and strength.

- However, his prototype was just too complicated to get off the table.

- He went younger and younger with a simpler start (putting in an adapting matrix with these base capabilities), fighting to complete this new life until finally, at age 7-10, it would start up. And his name was Hieronymous Adrian Hacker.

- Hacker was just that - new life. A new prototype. Installed with many skills and some very complicated components needed for a future ruler, which is why it was so difficult to perfect.

- With new life comes unexpected surprises. Hacker, even at a young age, was all of those things, but with time became nervous and people-pleasing under Dr. Marbles’s admittedly harsh training and leadership. Hacker still needed a parental figure, but Dr. Marbles wasn’t aware and Motherboard could never be a normal mother to him. (Subconsciously I believe. I don’t think either party is really aware.)

- Under unfortunately neglectful parents (not purposely but Hacker always did need extra attention), Hacker learned negative coping habits and slowly became sullen and angry. These capabilities programmed in him made it against his programming to take commands properly, and respect others - or at least when his ego got too big.

- He felt taken advantage of; his ideas were put into use with little credit going his way. He was always the wrong one, always the one who needed to keep learning. Dr. Marbles was arrogant and the harder Hacker pushed for faith to be put into him, the harder the doctor pushed back.

- Hacker, in response to now near-constant disapproval, tried to bounce back the only way he knew how; by puffing himself up instead. He learned deflection, denial, and a host of other unhealthy habits. He figured if he was the only one to believe in himself that’s all he would need.

- With the disapproval, Hacker completely lost respect for others. He got a mindset that everybody was out to get him - it was a bloated image, but it fueled other behaviors such as a touch of sadism.

- He decided that if nobody would take him seriously, he would force them to. He wanted to make everybody who’d denied him his ‘right’ (controlling cyberspace) pay.

- So he started a career of villainy. Using the ins and the outs of the system he knew so well to cause chaos. He built up the fear, and through fear, respect. Whether others ‘liked’ him or not was not a priority. (At least he told himself that until he believed it.)

- Hacker’s plan is to take over cyberspace. Cause misery, show the site admins, cyber citizens, and anyone else who stepped in his path how useless, pathetic, and helpless they were. This would last for two years, or perhaps longer, if he felt like it.

- Then, when all hope was lost and they begged for their lives, he would restore cyberspace’s greatness. The peace. Whatever broken code there was, he would fix. He would use his special knowledge to so perfectly improve the system that no one could anymore deny his superiority and greatness.

- Hacker has never told anyone this plan. His sense of drama and revenge wants everyone to be clueless.

- In short, Hacker has a God or Hero complex. He wants to be feared, hated, loved, acknowledged. Somehow all at once. This makes it make sense for me at least.

[bluedalahorse]

some fic written pre-s2, posted for your personal enjoyment

@frogprincesnowglobe mentioned a headcanon about little!Sara teaching herself etiquette and practicing various graceful exercises and… oh! oh! I have an excerpt from an unpublished fanfic about that! Because I have thoughts about that and they break my heart.

I’m giving this fic snippet its own post so it doesn’t get lost in the reblogs on the already very lovely Sara chain, but here’s something I wrote between seasons 1 and 2 when I was trying to figure out what Sara and August falling in love would look like. (I had a gut feeling they would after season 1, so I was trying to work it out in a fanfic, like you do.)

THE CONTEXT: Sara knows August did the video, so she’s trying to get closer to him to figure out how to get revenge (but also she thinks his hair is cute and grabbable so lust factors into about 50% of her decisions.) August knows Sara knows he did the video, so he’s trying to be nice to her as possible and so she doesn’t snitch (also when she looks at him it makes his knees weak, so lust factors into about 50% of his decisions.) They’re talking on the phone (like ancient millennials who actually use their phone as a phone!) and August has noticed how fascinated Sara is with Hillerska and its traditions and everything that makes it work. So, he says he’ll give her tips on how to become a prefect her third year and such, even though he knows she’s unlikely to be chosen.

I wrote this back in November 2021, so please accept this Early Installment Weirdness of my YR fanfiction career.

If you want to win over a girl with gifts and favors, you have to cater to her interests. It’s not that August didn’t know that. He’s just never put it into practice like this before. He went too generic, with Felice. All that insufferable talk of restaurants, when he didn’t even know he was broke. Putting Sara on the headmistress’s radar costs August nothing, and when they’re on the phone the evening before he returns to Hillerska, she actually says it’s thoughtful of him to include her like that. Thoughtful. She’s got to be fucking with him. Unless she isn’t? As August folds clothes and stacks them carefully in his suitcase, Sara explains on speakerphone about how she wants to be a prefect too, someday. She wants nothing more than to help out with Hillerska events. When she was younger, her mother used to take her and Simon to the public library all day—Sara doesn’t say why—and she used to sit between shelves and read the horse and school and etiquette books. She knows the right way to serve coffee and tea in multiple countries, the correct wording for invitations, every last thread of proper dress codes. She has been training for this her whole life. “Those details matter,” Sara declares. “They’re so much work. And if they’re done right, everything runs smoothly, but no one notices. If they aren’t, everyone notices, and it’s a disaster.” August laughs. There’s a sudden lightness in his chest. “Did I say something funny?” Sara asks, after a moment. “Not at all,” August says. “You’re just the only one who gets it. Finally.” He means it. Everyone calls him annoying behind his back, but they’re the ones benefiting from the events and rituals he’s organized. Hypocrites. “If you want, I’ll let you help me out with prefect work.” “Are you trying to get me to do all your work?” Sara asks, deliberate as a lawyer. “Or are you trying to be alone with me?” “We’ll do my work together. Promise.” This isn’t that cliché where the popular boy manipulates the quiet girl into taking on his homework and responsibilities—that shows a lack of control, and August is too much of a control freak to let Sara complete his entire checklist. “That way you’ll know what to do, so you can be in the running for prefect your third year. It really should be you, you know?” Except that she lacks the family connections—but August keeps quiet about that. “The headmistress has to know that.” “Where and when would we do this, exactly?” “You’re the one who said something about us being alone.” He lowers his voice, even though he’s in his room and no one else can hear him. “You’re the only girl I can trust, Sara.” Sara giggles, maybe in a nervous way. “You’re saying that to make fun of me.” “I need you. I mean it. Besides, it gets boring doing school mailings by myself.”

Anyway that’s it that’s the snippet. I miss them I miss them I miss them and with the minimal fic that’s been written about this pairing sometimes it feels like I’ve never even gotten to hang out with them.

[onedoornet]

before you submit your application, here are the house rules that should be observed at all times.

always keep in mind to remain respectful to each person within the network—with that, this space does not tolerate any form of bullying. all forms of hate speech, toxic stan behavior, disrespect, and the like will not be allowed here.

there is zero tolerance for any form of plagiarism. every work is crafted with care, and plagiarized works do not fall under that.

this space does not condone any work that subjects a minor to nsfw acts nor any nsfw work written by a minor. this also means we do not condone minors reading such works. the house code is: knock knock! it's onedoor!

all works that will be reblogged are member x reader or member x oc. aside from that, we are not accepting any works that glorify triggering themes and topics such as rape, pedophilia, incest, etc.

the house will only be accepting members who are ages 16 and above.

— should you be caught not upholding these rules, the admins reserve the right to decide the proper consequence, whether it may be to penalize you or terminate your contract.

WHAT WE LOOK FOR IN YOUR APPLICATIONS...

being open to joining the network's discord server. this acts as a space for easier navigation and tracking for the admins

you must be 16+

following onedoornet

our pinned post has been reblogged

have at least one (1) published work for boynextdoor before applying

ROUTINE CHECK...

any works over 500 words must include a "keep reading" divider

always include the pairing/s, genres, word count, and warnings before the start of your work

written fics, teasers, series masterlists, smaus (every five installations), headcanons and bullet fics will be reblogged so long as they follow the guidelines

make sure to use #onedoornet in the first 3-5 tags and mention the blog @/onedoornet

now that you've gone through the house rules, you can go ahead and submit your application! always remain on the lookout for a message from one of our admins if your room is available.

application form

[wistsandmagic]

Any Perceptor headcanons? Also Ark/Teletraan or Metroplex. :P

Heh. You talked about how your Brainstorm doesn't believe when people flirt with him?

Perceptor, for both Eterna and TFA doesn't know how to flirt. Eterna Perceptor understands the existence of flirting, but despite all his brilliance, that is a skill he has never quite managed to master. To him, 'flirting' consists of intense mathematical debates or very deadpan sarcasm, so...it's somewhat difficult to tell if he's being normal or if he is trying to make someone realize he is interested in them. The one true 'tell' he has is if he starts talking in-depth about the stars. He may be a microscope, but he is an astronomer, and it is his first passion. He doesn't share that passion easily.

TFA Percy, on the other hand, does not even understand the concept of flirting. He understands love and lust, despite what some people may think, but flirting does not exist. It is not a skill to be developed, the very concept is so alien as to be nonexistent for him. (Yes, even after Brainstorm 'fixes' him by putting his personality back into place. It didn't exist as a concept before Percy removed that part of his own processor.)

Going back to Eterna, Perceptor very, very rarely uses his alt-mode. He only does it when someone asks him to, for his degree of precise magnification and focus as a microscope is unparalleled, but he does not go into his alt easily or, truthfully, all that willingly. Spending more than 10 minutes in his altmode gives him crippling back pain and a migraine with such intense light-sensitivity that he can't function for the rest of the day afterward. He also has not told anyone this. It used to be bearable, until the Decepticon boarding party on the Ark that shot him in the face and made him lose his eye. Now it is not, and if he can get out of transforming, he will.

Ark and Teletraan, huh? Well, first off, for a very long time, not many people realized that Ark and Teletraan were actually two separate bots. It was 'common knowledge' that Straxus of Darkmount had commissioned hotspot Sparks to be nurtured into Vanguard-class Titan frames, to create an army of spaceships that would carry him and his elites of Praxus off of Cybertron with all the wealth they could carry, leaving the planet to its fate. These bots were supposed to be held as slaves via a computer installed in their bridge, which would allow them to communicate with the much smaller bots that would crew them. For most of the Arks, this was true.

For Ark-23, named Arcturius (though he just goes by Ark, honestly), this was not the case, as a rogue hotspot Spark landed into the frame of the computer that was supposed to enslave the newborn Vanguard Titan, and became another bot entirely, named Teletraan-1. This nullified the slave-coding, and Teletraan became Ark's City Speaker, so to speak, and grew alongside him as a constant companion that no one knew about. Everyone assumed that Ark-23 had designated himelf Teletraan, as all the other ships had given themselves names to differentiate between them, and this was allowed by the slave-coding. Teletraan and Ark thought it prudent to not correct anyone...until Straxus, an active Decepticon sympathizer (because it served Praxus's interests) BUT more interested in saving his own skin than helping any 'cause', began actively planning to leave.

They were going to run away, until a small contingent of Autobots managed to sneak through the Praxian security in Darkmount and stole Ark and Teletraan out from under Straxus' nose. Unfortunately, the Autobots didn't know that Ark was a sentient ship; they thought he was a regular ship with Teletraan being an enslaved Cybertronian bound to the ship. They thought all of the Ark ships had been such, as a Titan-class Cybertronian had not been naturally born in millennia. Eventually Ark and Teletraan told them. Uh. Via...waiting on everyone to leave for the day and having Ark transform into his bot mode to wait on them to get back, while Teletraan waited on his shoulder.

Needless to say, THAT was an interesting conversation.

As for Metroplex, you get a shortie because I have done WAY TOO MUCH RAMBLING ALREADY. How did this get so long?

Anyway. Metroplex has synesthesia. Diagnosed by medics, and that is one major reason the tiny sparkling, not even old enough to be a youngling yet, named Windblade from Caminus was assigned as his City Speaker when Cybertron made contact with Caminus, as she also has synesthesia. The other major reason is that Metroplex and Metrotitan, the Elder Twins, were and ARE the largest of the 13 Legendary Titans, and Windblade is such a strong telepath, that despite her age (or perhaps because of it, as she was branded as a City Speaker at the equivalent age of four) she was the only one that stood a chance of being able to interpret Metroplex's speech without immediately having her brain boiled from the sheer immensity Of Him.

Metroplex honestly prefers communicating via colours and sounds and moving shapes, as actual speech and letters for text communication is still incredibly difficult for him, even after he's managed to heal as far as he has. He still has a long way to go, and straining himself slows down his recovery. Thankfully, his incredibly young City Speaker understands his 'colour-language' just fine, as do both of her triplets, thanks to their connection with her, and Metroplex does not have to strain himself to speak to his charges very often. It's genuinely helping him heal much faster than projected, to the point that he is able to actively look outside his own Speaker Chamber now to watch his charges (the bots living in his cityscape) as they go about their daily lives. He takes great pleasure in watching the tiny cadre of children get into mischief, and, unbeknownst to any parents of said children, sometimes actively encourages their mischief himself via a message sent through Windblade, Sunstreaker, or Sideswipe, depending on which of the triplets is closest to his Speaker Chamber at the time. He enjoys watching the kids get to be kids.

[make-your-own-evil]

may I request the different riddlers with a s/o who's a video game developer?

Also unesscary fun fact that I thought was cute and wanted to share:

A group of bunnies is scientifically called a fluffle

no, i think that fact was very necessary, thank you science side of tumblr

also im assuming you want some headcanons :) p.s. you didnt specify which riddlers you wanted so i just chose four <3 i hope thats okay!

note: feel free to reblog! just please give credit where credit is due :)

Riddlers w/ a GameDeveloper!S/O

BTAS!Riddler:

youre a game dev?! he is too!

....or rather he was.

ideally hes the best riddler to be with if youre a game developer. equal parts knowledgeable, helpful and caring

at first, he may see you as perhaps a rival, but if youre together, hes all for helping you out with whatever you need!

he unfortunately never got to see his own game "the riddle of the minotaur" come to fruition, so he may want to be more involved than what you would like

that game belongs to the both of you now, sorry

he adores that you have the same passions as him. but unlike his own past, he will see to it that NOTHING stops you from developing your game

just say the word and he will have your game downloaded onto every computer in all of gotham, the big simp 💕

Arkham!Riddler:

what would you like to know?

this man was the head of the GCPD's cyber crime unit, im sure he would be able to answer ANY question you could possibly have

these days he comes off as a guy who couldnt be bothered to help you create a childish game... buy hey, he loves you and isnt that what he technically does all day anyways? you just have to add in the possibility of actually dying to his games

he ends up helping you in his free time ❤

how could he resist? his darling needs his help coding and coding is his second language!

he acts very "put out" with you at first. throwing in the occasional insult because thats just how he talks when hes trying to explain something to someone

he is proud though! never will you ever hear him say it but he truly is. maybe you and he could incorporate some of his malware for the good people of gotham...

Dano!Riddler:

helping you with your game is his second job now! even if hes not getting paid

its no secret that this riddler would be a giant simp, so anything you ask of him, he will deliver ���

in between his job as a forensics accountant and also being the riddler, he will always find time to check in on your progress. do you need help? do you need him to check your code? do you want something to drink? okay! hell just be over your shoulder if you need anything 😊

he will patiently explain to you how to do something the best he can. computers are really just a second nature to him, so having to explain it isnt exactly a familiar thing to him. bear with him!

he will be the first one to play your game!

no matter how easy your game is to him, he sees it as his obligation to support you in any way he can. whether your game is for a phone, pc or whatever, hes keeping it on his device forever

he would give you lots of praise and he also makes sure you know how amazing he thinks you are

Capullo!Riddler:

this asshole may not care at first that youre working on a game... that is until he realizes you could join forces to bring gotham to its knees

sure! he loves you! but this eddie is a narcissist and a control freak (more than the other riddlers)

he is right there with you in developing your game

he insists that you make him your partner in all of this. he also insists that he create the basic premise of the challenges your game has.

your game is required to be intellectually challenging! its a must! no S/O of his will create something that caters to the simple-minded!

and maybe you could also let him install a few viruses and malware?

he doesnt mean to sabotage your game! hes just thinking of your common goals. why not create a game that also eradicates those who are unworthy to live in your city?

he calls the game "our baby" 😊

[cure-icy-writes]

Okay so. I've been watching the notes on the @pokemischaracterization polls and oh my goodness this is fascinating. A brief summary of trends I've noticed this far:

-ingo and emmet are both in the bracket, but many people say that their characterization is largely fanon and difficult to get wrong. I'm going to argue that you can get it wrong, actually. Because of the ableism. If you write Ingo as someone who likely has an anxiety disorder that masks itself behind his autism symptoms, that's a perfectly reasonable interpretation. If you write him as being a secret zoroark who ate babies and is in a yandere situationship, you may want to re-examine some things.

-nemona, rose, and raihan are all victims of fandom racism. nemona made it to the yandere fandom wiki, and raihan gets similar treatment with people calling him "feral". Chairman Rose is in a much more ambiguous position, as he did in fact do several things wrong! But that just makes it trickier to spot the biases.

-Silver and Lusamine both get the "mischaracterized by their own source material" lament. I haven't gathered enough data on Silver, but Lusamine has canon trying to claim she did nothing wrong in later installments and interpretations, while retaining many of her abusive behaviors in USUM. While pokemon is a multimedia franchise and characterization may vary between adaptations, it does come off like they're trying to walk back on their themes earlier about child abuse.

-Lusamine and Cynthia both seem to get their characterization erased in favor of making them. Hm. Can't say that unless I want to mark the post 18+, but in particular, a lot of fanartists draw them in a way that appeals to a very particular crowd. Lusamine's toxicity is swept under the rug, and Cynthia's kindness and genuine love for the world and her history is dismissed as being unfitting for the particular fantasy that these people want to fulfill.

-Autism coding is something that comes up a LOT. Ingo, Emmet, and N are all a victim of zoroark AUs, a fresh spin on the changeling story that rehashes the same harmful tropes as the original without doing any introspection. In particular, N is infantilized and his character arc of understanding that he has a human heart is erased. which is suspicious because this mischaracterization is a mirror image of ghetsis' abuse. Nemona is viewed by some people as being autistic, hence her overly enthusiastic nature and inability to pick up on social cues. And she's criticized for these same traits.

-Special mention to magma admin Courtney! We're not sure if she's autistic or something else, but she's compared to a robot rather than a zoroark. Diversity loss! Ableism finds a way!

-Cyrus and Volo are character foils, who both wanted to remake the world but have friendship evolutions to show how they're not uncaring or heartless. Fandom seems to be allergic to nuance on them, with Yandere Volo headcanons especially. Volo seems to have it a lot worse, though.

-Red and Blue are somehow mischaracterized? Maybe I'm just not in the right corners of the fandom, but they seemed pretty straightforward to me. Hell, I'm a pretty big fan of Blue's characterization in pokemas, where he's presented as a cocky mentor sort who's largely mellowed out over the years and takes a lot of the newer rival characters under his wing.

-Kamado gets turned into a hate sink. My theory on this is that it's about the way the information about him is presented; he's wary of you to begin with and the banishment comes off as irrational, and then the banishment happens. By the time you learn enough about him to make him feel sympathetic, you're being attacked by a ninja who is likely trying to kill you, and then you have other things to worry about. More information about his backstory is hidden in subtext and minor quest dialogue that you could easily miss.

Anyways! This is just me liking to analyze data and trends. If you have information you'd like to add, feel free!

[tarisilmarwen]

Please, if you want, DUNK on the blue bastard.

Oh? I am being given permission to shittalk Thrawn? *rubs hands* Listen, I love the guy as the Affably Evil villain he is. He's imminently polite and respectful towards his adversaries, sharp as a tack brilliant which makes him a formidable foe, he appreciates good work from his underlings, he's hilarious bouncing off other characters. He's a fully three-dimensional, rounded, likable character.

Who also happens to be an authoritarian nightmare bastard.

He is at best apathetic to the Empire's atrocities, at worst, willingly complicit. He genuinely believes in the fascist tyrannical system as the best status for the galaxy, because they put up a "stronger", "ordered" front. He might bemoan some aspects of the Empire but only because he sees them as wasteful, ineffective, inefficient, and he absolutely thinks he could run things better if given the chance. He is the epitome of Machiavelli's Prince, deluded into believing himself some kind of benevolent tyrant, or willing to serve at the behest of one. He is Might Makes Right and The Ends Justify The Means and fits right in with the modus operandi of the Sith Code and the Empire's whole overarching philosophy.

The man is part of Palpatine's personal Triumvirate with Vader and Tarkin. You do not get that high up into the upper echelons unless you are a true believer.

Which is why fandom's constant excusing him because of his supposedly sympathetic and noble motivations is so damn irritating.

Oh Thrawn is doing everything For The Greater Good? He just wants to protect the interests of the Chiss? His first priority is to his own people?

None of that shit matters.

He still willingly inserted himself into the infrastructure of a fascist regime that was installed by genocide and regularly murders its own people and tried to help said regime run better and oppress the galaxy more effectively. He depersons and dehumanizes beings he doesn't consider useful, and sees the useful ones as "assests" ("allies" at best). He is perfectly willing to do horrible things if it suits him or gets him the results he needs. And he sees nothing wrong with his own actions. He is self-serving and self-righteous.

He. Is. A. Villain.

Doesn't matter how cute you think he is with Eli or Ar'alani or whoever or how sad you imagine him or how sympathetic and likable you find him, he is not a good person. He is a Bad Guy, and it's laughable that y'all wring hands over that fact. You're allowed to like the bad guy. You're allowed to find the bad guy hot and sympathetic and likeable and funny. But it annoying as hell when you insist he can't be a Bad Guy because "Oh he did it for a good reason!" which is, again, irrelevant.

And no, Zahn writing him with more sympathetic backstory and likable moments in New Canon doesn't mean he's no longer a villain. It does not mean his alignment has changed. It just means his time with the Empire becomes a corruption arc, as we see how a supposedly good person can become more and more fanatical in the pursuit of their goals.

And Zahn is on thin freaking ice anyway, if the hearsay about his asinine empty buildings headcanon is true.

I hope when August comes and the Ahsoka show has Thrawn being the magnificent bastard fascist asshole he is, fandom comes around to appreciate him properly, as the awesome villain he is.

[lensman-arms-race]

Headcanons for terms of endearment

As a counterpart to what they might say as insults and expletives, what might hardwares say to denote affection and friendship?

A term like 'sweetheart' might have no literal equivalent, because tastes probably aren't a thing*, and hardwares probably have something else instead of hearts. Just as hardwares don't perceive food tastes, they probably experience qualia for which we have no equivalent.

* We do see cameramen apparently eating food in an early episode, but I think that was a visual gag/early installment weirdness. My headcanon is that they can burn food and other organic matter as fuel if they need to, but they can't taste any of it.

Words like 'dear' might be lifted outright from human languages, because such words simply mean 'held in esteem or affection' with no specific biological meanings.

Humans sometimes compare each other to cute little animals as terms of affection, like 'chicken' or 'chickadee' in English, 'chaton' (kitten) in French, or 'Schnecke' (snail) in German. Maybe hardwares would similarly use the names of things they perceive to be cute or nice. Crystals, maybe? ('Gem' and 'diamond' are terms of affection in some human languages too.)

As for cute creatures, maybe they'd be more drawn to arthropods, since they have hard exoskeletons like hardwares do. There's also the fact that 'bug' is a common term for an error in code, so 'bug' could be a term of endearment meaning 'you're a cute little thing and you've got me acting silly'.

Maybe speakers would use 'spider', since there is a part of a speakerbox's driver that's actually called the 'spider'. (They used to have spokes that looked a bit like a spider's legs. Modern ones don't, but the name stuck.)

Feel free to add your ideas!

[deep-space-lines]

what is your opinion of your Geth?

deep breath OKAY. ohhh boy. here we go.

I was a "this is my OC, a sentient robot struggling with their humanity" sort of teen, which is just code for "ace and neurodivergent but doesn't know it yet", & when Legion showed up I was like, oh ok I see! I need to protect this guy with my life. stupidly long response incoming-

I love the geth so much ok. I've got a few unfinished doodles of Legion lying around because I LOVE drawing robots so much and Legion's design is just so neat, I'm really looking forward to working on their stained glass piece because mechanical stuff and stained glass go together better than one would think! It makes me sad that you can't explore all of their dialogue in ME2 without killing the Normandy's crew :( I don't remember for sure but I think I actually installed a mod that lets you talk to them more before the suicide mission, genuinely wish they'd gotten more screen time!! The geth are one of the few intelligent aliens we see whose thoughts and society are completely and truly alien and I love that!!

BUT I think ME2/3 could've handled them so much better. Especially ME3. Ok I really don’t like what ME3 does to the geth. I like ME3, but there’s a lot of things I need to mentally slap a headcanon bandage over and the geth are one of them.

The fact that they're genuinely alien and don't think the same way or view themselves as individuals the same way organics do doesn't make them any less sentient? I would've liked it so much better to see everyone overcome the challenges of understanding something that thinks in a completely different way, rather than one side having to fundamentally change to make peace possible. I loved the fact that in ME2 they didn’t seem to want to become more ‘human’/organic! Legion was already ‘alive’ before the Reaper code upgrades. Those units have a soul in Mass Effect 2 too! I just don’t really like “already clearly sentient robot has to change themselves to think more like a typical human” plots :( (glances at Data from Star Trek.. my boy you are just autistic)

I also don't like that the peaceful resolution to the geth/quarian conflict involves Legion uploading Reaper code upgrades. It just doesn't make narrative sense? We get so, so, SO many examples throughout the course of the game of a) the geth using Reaper tech and being indoctrinated, and b) other people trying to use Reaper tech for their own purposes and having it backfire big-time. ME1: The geth are controlled by Reapers so you have to kill them. ME2: The geth heretics are controlled by the Reapers because of Reaper code so you have to kill/rewrite them. ME3: The geth are being controlled by the Reapers so you have to… give them more Reaper code???

I always make peace between the geth and quarians because I love Legion and Tali, and I know there's a happy ending there so I can headcanon away a better explanation. But when I played for the first time, I had no spoilers, zero outside knowledge, and I chose to destroy the geth, because if I were Shepard in that situation and Legion was telling me they wanted to upload Reaper code because this time it's gonna be different we promise, I would not let them do that???

But APART FROM THAT I love the geth. I would've loved to see more of the geth interacting with other aliens in the galaxy after peace is made, and what impact that would have on their society. They were initially slaves, and then almost completely isolated themselves from organic life. And sure, they did some observing, but actually interacting with the other races would've been a whole different ball game, and it would've been so COOL to see the geth explore not only other cultures/societies and be surprised when they were unable to accurately predict the actions of individual organics, but also to see how they develop in relation to that, how it changes the way they see themselves. How they'd have to learn to effectively communicate with organics when they're used to sharing information at lightspeed. How they as a species would navigate political or interpersonal, rather than physical, conflict... I just wish we got more geth content bc they’re one of my favorite aliens & I really hope ME5 gives us more geth