#but the contrast is nonetheless funny

[blueintime]

Uncle: *Just sleeping on the ground*

Arthur: GET off your goddamn ass I'll even drive you into town myself to make sure you do fucking anything at all

*Earlier that morning*

Hosea: Most of the boys are already doing stuff in Valentine if you wanna join them or something

Arthur: What are you gonna be doing

Hosea: I'm gonna read a book :)

Arthur: Cool cool. Here, have this new book by an author I know you like that I found laying around too :)

[sillyabtmusic]

♡ Keonhee in Oneus MVs ♡

[kashilascorner]

Hélas ! il n'en avait rien été : les charmantes comtesses génoises, florentines et napolitaines s'en étaient tenues, non pas à leurs maris, mais à leurs amants, et Albert avait acquis cette cruelle conviction, que les Italiennes ont du moins sur les Françaises l'avantage d'être fidèles à leur infidélité.

💀

As an aside: do you guys think Albert has learned his father's vulture ways

[wunder-plunder]

"Anyone who wants to travel in the Mark [Brandenburg] must first bring with them a love for the land and its people, or at the very least, no prejudice. They must have the good will to find the good, rather than kill it through carping comparisons."

—Theodor Fontane in the foreword to the second edition: Walks through the Mark Brandenburg

[fragmentedblade]

Foreseeably, Otto owns me

[syluss-littlecrow]

better than the devil

<sylus x fem!reader>

where you find out if Sylus really has horns, and why he avoids letting you touch them

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, size kink (i mean bro is PACKING), breeding kink, sylus’s horns are ✨sensitive✨, dirty talk, sexual tension, missionary, a fuck ton of horn play, horny horns, cumming untouched, orgams galore!, so much cum♡

w/c: 2.9K

a/n: gotta thank the loml @bro-atz for helping me with this a little ehehehe >:) I hope this destroyed yall as much as this destroyed me to write it!!🥹

They say he takes the form of some dragon-like creature—with large black horns and wings. 

The first time you witnessed it with your own two eyes was when he choked out a serpent wanderer ten times his size before it got to you. You were semi-conscious at that point of time, the fatigue threatening to take over, but you had caught a glimpse of his silhouette—two thick appendages that curled proudly past his dirty silver hair, and large wings that hung off his back—before you blacked out. 

“Staring at me isn’t going to get any of your curiosities satisfied”, Sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. Your gaze flickers to his face, but Sylus has his eyes on his phone. 

Then his gaze shifts to you. 

“What are you thinking about, sweetie?”

Of course, you couldn’t just tell him outright that you wanted to see him magically grow his horns out of his head. You doubt even Luke and Kieran have seen it themselves. 

“Your horns.”

Sylus lowers his phone onto his lap, then he cocks an eyebrow, which turns to a furrow in seconds. 

“What gave you the idea that I grew horns?” He asks, his tone laced with mock and caution. His attention is fully on you now. 

Yeah, maybe that was not a good question to ask. Then again, being around someone as direct as Sylus had made you pick up his mannerisms quite a fair bit. 

“Nothing really”, you brush off, attempting to derail the conversation before something goes wrong. “I’m just curious.”

“Talk”, Sylus demands, albeit in a soft tone. “I’m listening.” 

His crimson eyes burn a hole into your head, and you now only realise the way he has you cornered on his couch, his large frame looming over yours. 

You sigh, realising he’s not about to let it go anytime soon. 

“A few weeks ago, during one of the battles we had, where I almost died-“

“Get to the point, sweetie”, Sylus cuts, seeing through your guise. 

You pout. “Right. Before I blacked out, I saw you appear right in front of me, with horns.”

Sylus raises his eyebrows, seemingly in amusement. “You sure you weren’t hallucinating?”

He earns a smack on his chest. You’re ready to let him disprove you further or whatever, but your body jolts when you feel Sylus snake his arms around your waist before he carries you effortlessly off the corner of the couch and onto his lap. 

You watch his eyes grow soft when he locks his gaze with yours. His expression is unreadable.

Your eyes widen in amazement when the thick pair of horns curl past his locks, the black a stark contrast with his white hair. He looks like he’s wearing bows in a funny, demonic type of way. Not that he has to know that. 

You continue to stare at his horns, visually taking in the rough yet smooth texture and patterns that run downwards as the horns grow thicker towards the base. 

“What are you really?” You wonder aloud, your fingers reaching out to feel the interesting texture of his horns, only for him to pull away quickly.

“It’s not the right time for you to know”, he replies curtly. You notice the glint of concern in his eyes, shrouded under the indifferent expression he wears. 

So you decide to leave it for now, at least. 

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop you from annoying the ever-loving shit out of Sylus about his horns once you found out about it.

He would stare at you with his eyebrows furrowed, muttering that he should have never told you about his horns, only for you to bat your eyelashes at him, much to his annoyance. 

“At least let me touch them if you’re not gonna tell me more about them”, you would whine. With a frown, he would push your forehead with a finger, giving you his standard answer.

"No."

“Then could you at least tell me why you won’t let me touch your horns?”

He would rest his thumb and index finger on his chin, feigning a thinking stance before his expression drops deadpan and then the curt answer leaves his lips.

“No.”

You’re putting this right next to when you were fighting for your life to get that fucking brooch months ago. 

While the thought continues to eat into your curiosity, you mostly let Sylus off the hook after a while. For some reason, you’ve been noticing that Sylus has been walking around his mansion with his horns freely out. Maybe because he’s shown you his full horns once that’s why?

Or he’s just straight-up taunting you. 

You feign nonchalance, only stealing glances at the thick appendage that stood out against his pale locks from time to time, but never really bringing it up to him, for now at least.

You hear the raindrops patter against the large windows of Sylus's room one afternoon. At least the heavy clouds are hiding the sun on top of the dark curtains drawn, and it makes Sylus's rest a little more comfortable. 

He's sound asleep beside you on his bed, but you're seated up on your phone, the sound of the rain also slowly luring you to grow sleepy. You stretch a little, careful not to wake the male beside you. Sylus grunts softly, and you feel his hair tickle your thighs.

Through your peripherals, something catches your attention. The black on white is undoubtedly hard to miss.

Now that Sylus seems dead asleep, you're considering taking a chance to take a closer look at his horns, and maybe even touch them. 

Carefully, you shift your weight closer to Sylus, monitoring his expressions and movements. When the coast is clear, you lean closer, staring at his horns with much amazement. It's a lot different now that you're this up close to admire them. 

His horns aren't simply a simple shade of jet black–at different angles, you notice how the scales of his horns shimmer like an oil spill under the soft light. Close up, the base of his horns are thick, and as it extends, it curls, almost fully wrapping around his head. 

“So pretty”, you mutter to yourself. Your fingers are reached out as if by instinct, barely inches away from touching his pretty crown. 

You pause, weighing the risks of attempting to touch his horns. How fucked would you be if you actually did? 

Your eyes scan Sylus’s calm sleeping face. He doesn't seem to have even noticed his horns have grown out. 

“It’s just a little touch, he won't feel it anyways”, you convince yourself softly, your resolve firming as your curiosity begins to bubble over your rationale.

You let your fingers brush his horn, feeling the cold and scaly texture beneath your fingertips. Your eyes are sparkling in amazement even more, now that your curiosity has been satisfied. You press your fingertips onto the appendage, enjoying how nice and cool it feels to the touch.

Just then, you hear Sylus groan slightly. Your hand immediately retracts before you fully freeze, watching the way he presses his head against your leg, his eyebrows slightly scrunched before it returns back to relaxed. 

Close call. 

You obviously don’t learn your lesson, because your fingers are on his horns almost immediately once more. You grow more curious about the feeling of running your palm across his horns this round. 

So you do.

Your hand starts from the thick base, and you stroke it, following the horn's curl, enjoying the way the texture of the scales run smooth under your palm.

And then Sylus makes a sound beneath you. You squint in curiosity, wondering if you heard it right.

So you run your hand from his tip to the base this time. 

And this time, Sylus lets out another moan. You definitely did not hear wrong. 

Your cheeks are slowly flushing when you realise what you're doing to him. But for some reason, it makes you want to do it more.

So this is why he doesn't want you touching his horns? 

With a cheeky smile, you run your fingers along his horns in various ways and places, eliciting more pretty and erotic reactions from Sylus. 

You giggle to yourself, trying to ignore how he's making you aroused with all the noises he's making with every stroke you give his horns. 

You want to go for the next round, wondering how far you can take this.

Obviously not very far, because the next time you do, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist before you're about to touch his horns again.

He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, pink dusted on his cheeks and his breathing shallow.

“Are you having fun, kitten?” He asks with a frown.

Fuck.

You feign a smile, trying to wave your hand from his grip, of course, your attempts futile. 

Sylus’s other arm curls around your thighs, locking you from leaving the bed while Sylus lets his sleep leave his body from the rude interruption. 

“Denying me of satisfying my curiosity only makes it worse”, you shrug. Well, if only Sylus had just let you have a little touch…

The corner of Sylus’s lips pull up to a half smirk. 

“Right”, Sylus replies, a hint of annoyance and something else laced in his tone before he shifts above you in one swift motion, trapping you underneath him on his bed. 

“Then, I'm sure you don't have to be reminded that actions have consequences?”

You swallow hard. 

His hand that grabbed yours is placed on his chest, and he forces you to trail down his body, feeling his thick chest, then his abs under your touch, all the way down until he stops you right on his thick erection.

“You should take responsibility, don't you think?” Sylus asks with a raised eyebrow. 

You know it's pointless even attempt to escape when he’s devouring your lips like he hasn't eaten in days. It's so intoxicating. You would never admit your greed, but Sylus knows you well enough to feed you so good. You want to pull him so impossibly close.

In between breathless kisses, your warm hands trail from his biceps to his shoulders, to his neck, and right to his hair.

You test waters–letting your fingers rake through his hair, grazing the base of his horns. You get his green light when he doesn't swat you off, on the contrary, it makes Sylus grow more desperate in the kiss.

You confidently stroke his horn, from base to tip once more, and the moans that leave Sylus’s lips sound like fucking heaven. 

His crimson eyes finally meet yours, and he almost looks like he's in pain. 

“If you keep doing that–ngh–” Sylus trails off with another strained moan when the sensation of you stroking his horn buzzes right to his cock that he has shut his eyes to hold back. 

“This?” you tease, sliding your palm down to his base once more, rubbing the scaly appendage, watching him failing at trying to keep his composure. 

“Fuck”, he hisses, diving into your lips once more, eating you up. 

He pulls away briefly, pressing his lips just below your ear.

“You’re gonna be taking responsibility, kitten.”

He presses himself close onto you, so close that you feel his cock just pulsing against your pelvis, only separated by his black sweats. Sylus takes your chin in his fingers and steals your breath away once more, uncontrollably grunting with every stroke your hands play with his horns. You feel his cock twitch, then pulse before the feeling of warmth spreads across your skin, accompanied by a long, drawn out moan in your mouth.

It makes you dizzy with bliss, realising what you've done to him. 

Sylus pulls away once more, catching his breath, his eyes reflecting something more feral when you met his. 

But all you do is flash a cheeky smile at him, letting your fingers caress his cheek. 

His fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and he yanks them off, almost growing feral for the second time when his eyes meet the sight of the way your pussy is glistening so much that a wet and thin string of arousal sticks itself in between your pussy and your soaked panties. 

Well, Sylus is holding the short end of the stick anyway, because when he tugs his sweats down, your heartbeat accelerates as your eyes land on his cock–thick, red and completely covered in white and thick cum, some staining his underwear, twitching slightly with dribbles of cum seeping past his cockhead when the fabric brushes past his balls. 

He looks so fucking delicious when he's messy like that. Shit.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, staring at me like that”, he teases. He doesn't even look embarrassed.

“Maybe I should play with your horns more often”, you reply with a smile. Sylus narrows his eyes at you, his expression mixed with annoyance and affection. His fingers press against your soaking clit, enjoying the way the smile on your face gets wiped, replaced with a contorted expression of pleasure when he rubs it in slow circles. 

“I’m strongly against that idea, sweetie”, Sylus responds, leaning in to take in the expression of your mind slowly growing dumb and blank just from his slender fingers rubbing you out. “It’ll give you a little too much leverage over me.”

Through the hazy and building pleasure, you still manage to reply, “that's the whole point.”

Sylus only smiles at your reply, his fingers leaving your clit. You're about to protest, that is, until he grabs you by your hips, dragging you closer to him, then pressing your knees to your chest, before his wet cock slowly enters you from below. He watches your face contort in pleasure–your eyes rolling back and your eyebrows furrowed–while soaking in the fucking delicious feeling of your cunt warm and wrapped around his cock. 

“S-so good”, you whimper, his fullness knocking out any ounce of breath and sense out of you at a dangerous pace the his cock inches even deeper into you.

“Such a nice and warm pussy hole”, Sylus grits, pushing himself even deeper, his control slipping when he's buried himself all the way in. “Fuck, you're so good for me, kitten.”

You're clawing his pillows when Sylus starts fucking you, and you're looking at Sylus with such a glazed out expression–and you know it drives him fucking crazy. His palm rests on the bulge that his cock is pushing every time he enters you, and it makes your thighs shake. Your moans grow in pitch and tone on top of the sounds of lewd wet skin slapping. 

He lets you wrap your legs around his waist in return for letting him scatter love bites across your neck.

So you decide that it’s the perfect time to aim for his sensitive spots once more.

Your fingers tug against his scalp, then alternating to stroking his horns once more, throwing Sylus into another round of pleasured daze. 

You feel his cock fill you up even more, and it makes you greedy to how far you can push it.

“I really should make you regret this”, Sylus mutters, failing to suppress another groan when your fingers scratch against the base. 

His thrusts become more like ruts, his cockhead hitting your g-spot over and over as payback. Sylus sprouts a satisfied smirk as he watches you completely come undone on his cock. You throw your head back while stars flicker in and out of your vision. The pleasure is growing so fucking good that you're choking on your moans too. 

“Right there! Fuck, that feels so fucking good, Sylus”, you sob through wet lashes and heavy pants. 

Sylus is mesmerised by your pretty expressions and the pretty sounds you always make for him when he's breaking you apart. 

Maybe you finding out about his sensitive horns is his punishment for indulging in these sick pleasures. Nonetheless, he still wouldn't have any other way.

Your hands find his horns once more, and he falters for a split second. But he doesn't shake you off since he's much too focused on trying to force an orgasm out of you.

Your pussy squeezes him before it starts uncontrollably fluttering against his cock. Ah, his goal is slowly being fulfilled.

As your orgasm dangles above you, you react with periodical squeezes on his cock and his horns, which definitely draws a much larger reaction from Sylus. 

“So close”, you whine, your orgasm slowly filling the crevices of your brain, plunging you deep into pleasure. Your cunt clenches on his cock, and you unintentionally yank his horns.

Sylus fucking growls, pressing himself so fucking deep into you, his cum fucking spurting into you–so much that some is leaking out from your plugged pussy hole and onto the bed. 

He pulls his cock out momentarily, letting his cum ooze from his cockhead, his eyes darting to the loads seeping out of your hole, before he slides his cock into you once more. You gasp at the fullness, another squeeze to his horns, which only stimulates Sylus once more, and his cock fills you up with another warm and sticky load. 

He’s panting, but he musters his energy to meet your eyes. 

“Sweetie”, he calls out to you amidst his dick attempting to take over his brain. “If you don't get your hands off, your pussy won't be able to hold anymore, I guarantee.”

He's met with a fucked-out and sly grin from his partner. 

“And I thought you enjoyed challenges.”

Sylus scoffs at your comment, realising that he really has to teach his kitten a lesson to not touch things that aren't hers.

[bambiiboop]

Curls - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Note: Oh, shocking, a Joel ficlet inspired by this image. It’s smut. There’s no plot beyond: Joel grows out his hair. You like to pull it.

Warnings: smut | unprotected PIV sex | one singular spank | unspecified age gap | reader has no physical description except being less broad than Joel and AFAB | Joel has a dirty mouth | Hair pulling | Fluff(ish) at the end

“Joel…”

You drag your fingers through curls that you’ve seen turn steadily greyer recently; you’ve watched him grow them out, shove them back off his face.

Before you can help yourself, you tug on his hair gently, barely at all, shifting beneath him. He has you pinned down, caged beneath his bigger, broader frame. It’s about the only action you can take, beyond running your hands up his back, fingertips ghosting across scarred muscle.

Your fingers always come back to his hair; you tug again as he shifts against you, grinds his pelvis into yours, making sure you feel every single thick inch of his cock buried inside you.

“Ah, fuck, Joel!” You gasp, yanking on his curls as he hits your sweet spot.

Joel bites his lip, trying to muffle the moan that threatens to escape him when you pull on his hair, far harder than you ever have before. Maybe it doesn’t come out the way it would if he had let it, but this tiny, muffled, needy little moan comes out nonetheless.

A devious idea crosses your mind, spurred on by his unexpected reaction. You wait until he’s nuzzled his face back into your shoulder, focusing too much on how wet and tight you are around his cock to notice what you’re scheming.

Once you’re certain he’s distracted, you run your fingers through those long, soft, grown out curls once more, giving yourself a moment just to touch, before you pull. Hard. Or at least, hard by your standards.

Joel tries, tries so damn hard, not to let any sound escape him, but the moan that tears from his throat is downright filthy; it turns to a sinful growl when he sees how pleased with yourself you look.

“Oh, think that’s funny, do ya? Real cute.” He grumbles, frustrated with himself, because damn if he isn’t the scariest man in Jackson, and yet you can bring him to his knees, turn him into a whimpering, pleading mess without much effort and with zero hesitation on his behalf.

Joel grips your thighs in his big, scarred hands, practically folding you in half as he growls again, roughly fucking into you.

You gasp and moan, tugging him by his curls into a greedy, sloppy kiss as he spears his cock deep into you, grinding his hips against yours so that the coarse curls at the base of him tease your oversensitive clit.

“Ohhh, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck Joel!” You’re completely gone, lost, clinging onto him, writhing beneath him as best you can when he has you folded up beneath him.

Looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes, you whimper as he draws back, changing angle so he can look down at you with his deep, caramel gaze, plush lips slightly parted as he watches you come apart beneath him.

“That’s it, darlin’, c’mon now-“

His rough, low voice is soft, almost sweet, a stark contrast to his rough, relentless, heavy thrusts, letting gravity take over. Joel knows he has you, can feel how close you are by the way your cunt flutters around him, tightening around the fat girth of him, making him groan again.

“Fuck, darlin’, so good for me, you’re so fuckin’ good for me…”

Joel knows he’s rambling, or rather, he’s dimly aware of it, knows he sounds like an idiot, like a pussy drunk fool, but he’s so lost in you, in the way your fingers tug insistently at his curls, at the way you whimper.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he moans the last word as your fingers card through his hair once more, pulling him down close to you; leaning so close like this, you can hear every muffled moan, every grunt and exhale and growl as his hips slap lewdly against yours.

“Joel, I -“

You can’t get the words out, trailing off into a desperate, pathetic whimper as your hips meet; the added stimulation to your clit finally sending you over the edge.

Your vision blurs, unsure if your eyes are closed or if you simply can’t see, your entire body shaking and writhing beneath him as your nails drag down his back, pulling his much broader frame as close to you as possible.

Joel groans again, an almost pathetic sound as he fucks you through it, taking his time to draw out your climax, chasing his own with relentless abandon.

Sixty years old, he thinks, and he can still fuck like a man half his age. If he wasn’t so focused on how wet and tight you are, on your hands in his hair, on the way it feels when you pull on his curls, he’d feel so smug about this.

Maybe that says more about the effect you have on him than anything else.

Fuck, he’s close, he realises, so caught up in watching you come apart beneath him that he hadn’t been keeping himself on edge well enough.

“Joel… please…” you look up at him with big doe eyes, breathing heavily as you try to regulate yourself, watching the way those greying curls fall into his dark eyes as he lets out a low moan again.

Half a dozen sharp snaps of his hips and he’s there, growling, panting, moaning, sounding filthier and more desperate with each one before he reluctantly pulls out of you at the last minute, wrapping one big hand around his soaked cock and stroking, grunting as he spills onto your soft skin, cock twitching in his hand at the way his spend coats you.

You look so pretty like that, Joel thinks, somewhere in the depths of his brain that isn’t completely occupied by feeling as though every nerve in his body is reconfiguring.

“Hey, Joel?” You lean up, press a kiss to his jaw, running your fingers almost lovingly through his curls again.

“Hm?” He reaches to the nightstand for a soft cloth to clean you up with, finding his glasses, too, unfolding the large frames and sliding them up the curve of his nose.

“You should have told me you like having your hair pulled.”

He scoffs, lays the lightest of swats to your ass.

“Careful, darlin’, don’t start what you can’t finish.”

It’s your turn to scoff as you take the cloth from him, finish cleaning yourself up and toss it to the hamper at the end of the bed.

“You and I both know I can finish you just fine.” You giggle as Joel pulls you back into his arms, against his broad chest, where you feel safest.

Running your fingers through his curls, you hum contentedly as he holds you; this is exactly where you belong, you think.

“You just watch yourself,” Joel shakes his head, but there’s no heat in his tone. “Guess it wasn’t so bad that I grew this out after all, huh?”

“Definitely not.” You press another kiss to his jaw, eager to just hold onto this moment together, to be held by him and, admittedly, look forward to the next time.

[worrywrite]

I like that throughout the locked tomb books, Palamedes is sort of venerated as a genius and tends to be displayed in the most protagonistic light among pretty much all the characters. Gideon sees him as a kind but dangerously intelligent and capable figure, as someone who knows what he's doing (until he explodes) and has all the answers, and so we kind of start to see him that way too. Harrow has seen him as an equal to some degree, more well rounded than her and perhaps not so excellent as she in bone magic but a genius nonetheless and an ally to boot. Further, Harrow sees him as extraordinarily capable when she realizes he's managed to hang on after death and she does seem to display some reverence towards him, in contrast to her miserable life he seems like he has things figured out and like he has solutions (even though he's dead).

But then Nona meets him. And she just sees him as a sort of silly and goofy idiot boy who is kind to her but probably has no idea what he's doing. And she constantly overhears and intrudes on him and so she knows he's kind of flying by the seat of his pants. She doesn't like him for his genius, or even see him that way (intelligence doesn't really matter to her), she likes him for his element of chaos in an otherwise stringent household and because he makes Camilla happy in a way she doesn't quite understand. Nona very much does not see Palamedes as a heroic of protagonistic figure, and I think that's very funny because everyone else saw him that way because he seemed so capable relative to themselves--but Nona is simultaneously extremely less and incredibly more competent than him and doesn't even consider their capacities comparable on either end.

[urlocaloptimist]

Telemachus glances over at Y/n as they walk together, and the young man notices the contrast between them. She was stunningly beautiful and he was rather plain looking. But nonetheless, he always enjoyed her company. He smiled as he looked at her, his gaze lingering slightly longer than usual. He tried not to stare at the way the setting sun caught in her hair, and he pushed down the feeling of admiration that stirred within his chest. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to having her around, though he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her company. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever other men would look her way. But he quickly reminded himself that he had no claim over her; she was free to speak to whoever she wanted. Besides, she seemed utterly oblivious to all of the attention she received... As Telemachus continued walking beside y/n, his thoughts began to turn to the idea of marrying her. He'd never once considered such a thing before, but he couldn't deny that the thought appealed to him greatly. He'd never loved anyone quite like he loved her, and the idea of spending the rest of his life with her seemed like a dream come true.

But he quickly shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that marriage was a serious matter, not just something to be thought of lightly. Besides, he wasn't even sure if y/n reciprocated his feelings. Despite his attempts to push the thought away, Telemachus couldn't shake the idea. He found himself stealing glances at her, his heart racing each time she smiled at him. He was tempted to tell her how he felt, but he wasn't sure how she would react. Would she laugh in his face? Or worse, would she simply see him as a friend and nothing more? 

As they walked, he couldn't stop himself from imagining what their life together might be like. He pictured them walking hand in hand on the beach, or dancing under the stars. He saw himself waking up beside her every morning, watching her brush her hair and dress in the morning light. He could practically see the children they would have together, with her striking good looks and his intelligence. He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up like this, but he couldn't help it. Every moment he spent with her only made him more certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "Y/n, I need to ask you something.", "Go on," I tell him, He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His heart was racing and he felt like he might be sick. "I wanted to know if... if you might have a crush on me?" he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly.

I worried for a moment that someone who knew of my feelings told him so I asked "Did someone tell you that" Slightly panicked, "No, not at all. It's just... I've noticed a few things," Telemachus stuttered, his hands fidgeting nervously. "And I wondered if maybe you felt something for me?", maybe it would be best to just be honest with him, who knows, he might feel the same, "I...I do, I'm sorry, I understand if you don't feel the same" I couldn't help myself from hoping, Telemachus was taken aback by her response, his heart swelling with happiness. He hadn't expected her to feel the same way. "No, no, I do," he said quickly. "More than you know." That was a surprise to me, a very good surprise. He stepped forward, taking both of her hands in his own. "I've... I've never felt this way about anyone before," he admitted. "You're beautiful and smart, and funny, and I just can't imagine my life without you. I know we've only known each other for a month but... I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt. But all he saw was a reflection of his own feelings. "Y/n, will you... will you marry me?", "Yes," I tell him full of excitement. A huge smile broke out across Telemachus's face, his heart feeling like it might explode from happiness. He couldn't believe that she had said yes. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, pulling her close to him. "I can't believe this is real. I never thought you'd say yes," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

(Timeskip)

Telemachus could feel his heart racing in his chest as he stood in the throne room, holding Y/n's hand in his own. They were standing before his parents, King Odysseus and Queen Penelope, both of whom were eyeing them curiously. Odysseus looked pleased with his son, with a hint of a smile on his face, but Penelope was studying Y/n carefully, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Father, Mother," Telemachus began, struggling to keep his voice steady. "There's something I need to tell you." Odysseus nodded, gesturing for his son to continue.

"Y/n and I... we've decided we want to get married." He held his breath, waiting for his parents' reaction. Odysseus's smile widened, but Penelope's expression remained impassive. For a moment, the room was silent. But then Odysseus spoke up. "This is splendid news, my boy," he said, his voice filled with pride and approval. He leaned back in his chair, still with a smile on his face. Penelope, however, was still quiet, her gaze fixed on y/n. Telemachus could feel his palms growing sweaty, his heart still racing in his chest. He knew his mother was a tough woman, and he was terrified that she would outright reject y/n as her daughter-in-law. "Mother... please, say something," Telemachus spoke up, his voice pleading. Penelope was silent for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. But then, slowly, a smile began to form on her lips. Telemachus let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief washing over him. "Very well," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "You have my blessing."

Odysseus clapped his hands together, still smiling widely. "A wedding is certainly in order then!" he exclaimed, looking almost gleeful. "We must make the preparations at once." Thus begins the chaotic planning and preparation that comes with a royal wedding in Ithaca, but it will all be worth it.

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Summary: Reassuring Noah that he is a good boyfriend, even if he is not always present because of his job.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Tw: angst, comfort

It had been days, perhaps even weeks since you first started to notice the shift in Noah. You hadn't thought much about it at first. You knew what came along with dating someone like him: the long nights at the studio, irregular hours, and constant pressure of the music industry weighing down hard, and great responsibility to front such a band as he did.

Of late, however, it had been much more than that. His absence had become as much physical as it was everything else. You'd notice how he'd zone out when you spoke, how he would sit with you and yet his mind would be somewhere else. You'd catch him sometimes staring ahead, his jaw clenched, the weight of the world resting on those tense shoulders.

You would try to ask him how he was doing, but he always deflected, gave you a smile that never reached the eyes, and muttered something about being fine.

But you knew better. You knew him better than anyone.

Tonight, though, was different.

The band was over for dinner, and Jolly, Nicholas, and Folio were no different: loud, boisterous, filling the room with laughter and stories. Nights like that always had you having a good time-it seemed like a chance to see the boys unwind and laugh along with them, being a part of what makes this band more like family than just a group of musicians.

Normally, Noah was right in the middle of it all, joking around or playing along with ridiculous stories, but tonight, he'd been quiet. Too quiet.

You looked over at him as you were seated at the dinner table and felt him staring down at his plate, shoving food around with his fork listlessly. He'd barely taken a bite and his usual sarcasm or sharp wit was utterly absent. The night wore on, and this funny feeling you had-you couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was amiss. Every now and then, you caught him looking at you, his brow furrowed like he was lost in thought. And every time you glanced back, he quickly looked away into some other direction, as if his eyes had been engaged somewhere else all along.

Over dinner, as the guys moved into the living room, sprawling across couches and settling in for what would inevitably devolve into a late-night hangout, you felt Noah's hand brush yours under the table. It was a fleeting touch, one that you almost missed, but nonetheless it caught your attention. You look up at him, and for the first time that night, he meets your gaze directly.

"Can we talk in private?" he asked quietly, his voice soft but laced with something that sounded like hesitation-or maybe fear. Your heart skipped a beat.

There was something in his tone, something that made the air between you feel heavier-like this conversation was going to unravel something big. You nodded, giving him a small smile in an attempt to reassure him, but he didn't return it.

Instead, he stood up and walked you out into the night, out of earshot of the band's laughter and chatter.

The cool night air caressed your skin, while the clear sky above was scattered with stars. The porch was dimly lit, the soft glow of the house reaching out to it, casting long shadows across the wooden boards. It was quiet out here, with only the distant hum of the city and a complete contrast from the noise inside.

You could feel the tension radiating off Noah, standing with his back to you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his posture stiff.

For a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched out between you, and your heart began to race while you waited for something, anything, to happen. You wanted to reach out, to say something, but there was something in his demeanor that stopped you. He looked like he was struggling-like whatever was on his mind was tearing him apart from the inside.

Finally, after an eternity, he turned to face you. His eyes, once bright, full of life, had dimmed and clouded over, heavy with a sadness that pushed against your chest. He let out a weighted breath, running a hand through his dark hair before he dropped his gaze to the ground, unable to look at you.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," he started, his tone low, barely above a whisper. There was a rough edge to it, as if he was holding on by a thread. "About us."

Those two words sent a jolt of anxiety through you as suddenly your mind spiraled. Was he breaking up with me? Was this the moment everything I'd built together crumbled? You opened your mouth to speak-wordsshall remain stuck in your throat, too tight in your fear.

Noah must have sensed your panic because he quickly shook his head, stepping closer. "No, no- it's not what you think," he hastened to say, finally meeting your eyes, his expression was pained.

"I'm not... I'm not breaking up with you, but..." He trailed off, obviously searching for words. You waited, your heart still racing in your chest. He looked so very vulnerable standing there, so unlike the confident, composed frontman you were used to on stage. "I just... Fuck, I don't know how to say this," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I feel like I've been a terrible boyfriend lately. Like, I haven't been here for you. Not really." He glanced up at you; his eyes were riddled with guilt.

"And it's been eating at me." Your heart went out to him when he was so torn up. You took a step closer and reached out, gently taking his hand in yours.

"Noah, what are you talking about?" you asked softly and tightened your grip on his hand. "You're not a bad boyfriend."

He gave a harsh laugh and shook his head. "Yes, I am," he persisted in a thick voice. "I've been so wrapped up in the band, in the new album, in fucking everything, that I've barely been around. I feel like I'm always distracted, like my mind's always somewhere else even when I'm home, and that's not fair to you."

He glanced away, swallowing hard, and you saw his jaw clench with his attempt to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break through. "You deserve someone who's actually there for you. Someone who can give you the attention and time you need. And right now, I'm just... I'm not that guy.".

A tear escaped the corner of his eye, and your heart broke at the sight of it. Noah had always been the strong one, the one that held everything together, and seeing him so vulnerable, so broken, was almost too much to bear. Without thinking, you reached up, gently brushing the tear away with your thumb.

"Noah," you whispered, your voice soft yet firm. "You're enough. You're more than enough."

He shook his head, looking away as if not able to believe you. "I have barely been at home in the past weeks. I missed so many things that were important to you and I have let you down over and over again, and—"

"You haven't let me down," you cut him off, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. "I know how hard you're working. I see everything you're doing and I understand. I get it Noah, I know how much pressure you're under with the band, with the new album and I'm not expecting you to be perfect. I don't need you to be here 24/7. I just need you, Noah. However you come."

He stared at you searching your face for something, or maybe reassurance, maybe hope in. "I feel like I've been so absent. Like I've failed you too many times."

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face in your hands.

"You haven't failed me. You've never failed me," you said in a quiet, hushed voice. "I know things have been tough lately, and I know you've been busy. But I'm not going anywhere, Noah. I'll wait. I'll always wait for you, because you are worth waiting for."

Again, his beautiful brown eyes welled up with tears, but this time he didn't fight it. A couple fell loosely and you softly wiped away each one as it slipped down his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispered, shaking. "I just… I don't want to lose you."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with all the love you felt for the man standing in front of you. "You're not going to lose me, Noah" you promised. Your voice was steady, sure. "I love you too, more than anything".

He closed his eyes, puffing out a trembling breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close while he tightly hugged you, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a deep, shaky sigh.

You didn't say anything, just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between them. But as moments dragged by, you could feel the tension in his body melt away, his pain replaced by relief and comfort.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after a while, his voice muffled against your skin. "For everything."

"You don't have to apologize," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

"We'll figure it out. Together." He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you saw the light return to his eyes. It was faint, but it was there-a glimmer of hope, of love, of the man you knew so well.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with appreciation. "For everything."

You smiled, leaned up and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

"Always," you whispered against his mouth.

Noah's fingers tightened around yours, his eyes steady now, no longer clouded with doubt.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," he whispered, raw in his voice yet full of sincerity.

You didn't get lucky," I said, with a soft, hard smile. "We chose each other. And I'm still choosing you."

Noah smiled softly back at me. He did choose you. And he was so damn glad he did.

[loveriotss]

Yo! I was wondering if you could do some headcannons for Shigaraki, Aizawa, and Dabi with a male reader? I also thought it would be cool if reader had a quirk that had the abilities of a wendigo or skinwalker, and he would be really tall (around 6”6 or 7ft maybe?). I think it would be cool to see them with a guy that has a creepy quirk and personality, but really he is a gentle giant.

Anyway, have a great rest of your day/night! Thank you!!

HIM WITH A SKINWALKER QUIRK USER ⸻ tomura shigaraki + shota aizawa + touya todoroki

# tomura shigaraki + shota aizawa + touya todoroki INCLUDES — male! reader, fluff(ish), headcannons

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

[🎭] TOMURA SHIGARAKI . . .

when you both first met, he thought you were some kind of nomu.

was surprised to find out that you're a human but he respects you nonetheless.

he's intrigued by your quirk's eerie and supernatural nature.

very very curious about the details of your quirk but he won't ask you about it, he will just stare at you a bit creepily.

as you two grow closer, he's drawn to the contrast between your menacing appearance and your gentle demeanor.

he’s used to being misunderstood and understands the feeling of being seen as something to fear rather than to be understood.

he likes how your personality doesn't undermine your abilities.

if you're in the lov with him, he will rely on you a lot.

he trusts you, even if he doesn’t always express it verbally.

when it comes to missions or plans, shigaraki values your input and abilities.

your quirk’s versatility and your understanding of the darker side of things often make you a crucial ally in his schemes.

he respects your contributions and sees you as an essential part of his plans.

despite your imposing stature and fearsome quirk, you have a way of creating a soothing environment.

shigaraki treasures the quiet moments you share, where you can both escape from the chaos of the world and simply enjoy each other’s presence.

he's an odd guy who likes odd things and trust he will yap to you about it.

you just stare at him like '😀' while he casually talks about some gruesome thing that he's hyperfixated on.

[💤] SHOTA AIZAWA . . .

when you and aizawa first met, he was a bit cautious of you.

the appearance your quirk gave you was something he had never seen before.

that paired with your personality began to intrigue him.

feel like it would be funny if he had a pet cat who never really warmed up to everyone but the first day you visit his house he finds his grumpy little cat on your lap in minutes as you happily pat it.

will apologize on your behalf if you accidentally startle someone.

(which is like everyday 😓)

however if anyone tries to be rude to you because of your appearance he will defend you firmly.

has tried erasing your quirk which takes away whatever additional abilities you have but you appearance remains as towering as ever because of it being a physical quirk.

aizawa finds your quirk fascinating and is eager to understand it better.

will occasionally request training sessions with you where he will face you with scenarios that challenges you to use your quirk in different ways.

he values the calm and thoughtful conversations you two have.

you're one of the few people who can match his vibe since he is mostly surrounded by loud extroverts 🙏 (a/n: looking at you present mic).

if you were a hero, he would be one of your biggest supporters and will not tolerate any disrespect towards you from other heroes or even civilians.

[🔥] DABI . . .

when you and dabi first met, he was intrigued by you but still kept his distance.

your towering height and the unsettling nature of your quirk made him cautious.

if you were introduced to him through the lov he wouldn't really speak to you much in the first few days, opting to just observe you from the sidelines.

your personality was bit of a surprise to him.

it made him suspicious of you as he thought you were hiding your true personality and whenever he tried to bring it up with the other members they just laughed at him.

eventually he decided to 'investigate' you on his own and found his assumptions about you terribly wrong.

as you two grow closer and become 'friends', he starts teasing you.

will call you the most oddest nicknames but it's okay because you call him odd things back.

friendly fire between the two of you is common but a very fun sight to see as whenever the argument get's a bit heated, dabi tries to look menacing but compared to you he looks like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

despite his jeers and sarcastic remarks, he genuinely respects you.

he acknowledges your strengths and doesn't doubt your abilities.

he is a horror/supernatural freak so seeing someone who looks similar to the creepy books he snags from corner bookstores in front of him makes him fanboy internally.

he occasionally lets his guard down around you, sharing bits of his past or personal thoughts.

is also a very good listener. during your rooftop conversations he will patiently listen to your stories or whatever struggles you've faced.

NOTE — posting this embarrassingly late, really sorry to the anon who requested this 😓😓.

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[reiding-writing]

I feel bad for sending one request after another but like okay hear me out, Spencer is cold and it's very obvious that his skinny ass purple scarf doesnt do much, so reader lends him theirs and he gets really flustered because it smells like them 😭

scented scarves [ s.r ]

Summary:

Vegas was a pretty warm city even in the winter, a stark contrast to Quantico’s freezing temperature. Needless to say, Spencer wasn’t fairing very well in the cold, and your offer of your scarf leaves him flustered and mildly overwhelmed.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid × gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: this one’s pretty short but i hope it suffices nonetheless!

thank you for the request, you’re welcome to send as many as you want <33

It was -2 degrees celsius. 28 degrees fahrenheit.

In other words, absolutely fucking freezing.

The joys of living in Virginia.

It was blatantly obvious which of your team members were acclimated to the colder climates, or more accurately, who wasn’t.

Anyone who walked into your office, profiler or otherwise, would be able to tell.

Garcia was wrapped up in a chunky knitted sweater, a pair of thick tights under her skirt as she padded across the bullpen back to her tech dungeon with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

Prentiss was wearing a shirt and a sweater, her hands held out in front of a mini heater on the top of her desk in a desperate attempt to warm up her extremities so the rest of her body would follow suit.

And Spencer…

Spencer was sat cross legged in his chair with two pairs of socks on, a knitted vest over his shirt and a cardigan over his vest, his signature purple scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his chin as his hands gripped his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from turning into a human icicle.

Poor Spencer Reid. Vegas really didn’t serve him well when it came to Quantico winters.

If his trembles weren’t so adorably funny you’re sure you’d feel bad for the boy, but instead you’re muffling a laugh as you walk across the bullpen to sit at your desk beside him, disposing of your bag under the table and unfurling your chunky knitted scarf from your neck to drape over the back of your chair.

One of the pros of being born and bred in Virginia is that you didn’t have to worry about freezing from the inside out.

Spencer’s eyes follow you as you take your seat, and you swear you can see him shudder when you remove your scarf, as if you removing a layer of warmth made him colder.

“You good over there?” You can’t help the amusement painting your face as Spencer stares at you like you’ve got a second head.

“How are you not freezing?” Spencer’s tone carries genuine bewilderment as his eyes scan what you’re wearing, a pair of black slacks and a white shirt, alongside a semi formal blazer that you also shed to lie over your chair.

“It’s climate acclimation Spence, you of all people should know that,”

His expression doesn’t change at your answer, continuing to blankly stare at you like some foreign species that had just invaded the earth. “I know that- logically… But still i’m literally shaking from how cold it is,”

“That’s what happens when you’re a Vegas baby who moves to Virginia,” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as Spencer huffs, taking another sip of his hot coffee in attempt to regulate his body temperature back to something warmer, tucking the narrow purple strips of thin-knitted fabric under his chin to expose his mouth to the mug.

“That scarf isn’t going to do you very much you know, it’s basically a glorified fashion piece,” You weren’t trying to knock on Spencer’s scarf by any means, it’d become a staple of his office wear, one that you definitely weren’t complaining about, but in weather like this it wasn’t really doing him any favours.

“I know…” Spencer sighs at his own intolerance to cold weather.

You’d think having worked in Quantico for half a decade would have stopped him from turning into a human icicle the minute the temperature dropped into the negatives, but no, of course it didn’t. Of course he continued to feel like he was sat in a bathtub full of ice despite having four layers on. Of course he did.

You push your chair back from your desk, the noise of it’s friction against the cheap carpeting of the floor drawing Spencer’s eyes to you once more, and to you bring yourself to your feet and pull your scarf from under your blazer with a small amount of struggle before walking over to him, the scarf stretched out between your two hands.

Spencer doesn’t have the time to question what you’re doing before your scarf is wrapped around his neck, immediately engulfing him in a cocoon of extra heat that his own scarf failed to provide.

He didn’t have time to thank you either, as you departed with a ruffle of your hand in his hair towards the kitchenette to fix yourself a coffee.

At first he’s confused.

Then he’s warm.

And then the lingering scent embedded in the yarn hits his nose and he flushes a bright pink, thankfully hidden under the knit.

Of course it would smell like you. It was your scarf. Your cells would cling to the yarn as you wore it and leave a permanent trace of you behind.

But it smelled like you. And any lingering molecules of coffee in his sensory neurons were immediately overridden with your scent instead.

Any conscious sense of being cold had left his body. His trembling had seemingly stopped, his brain too focused on your scent invading his nose and making him feel fuzzy inside.

You returned with your cup of coffee soon after, Spencer still coming to terms with his reality as you take your seat again. “You look much warmer now,”

You half insinuate the flush on his cheeks, although he’s unsure if you recognise the origin behind it or if you genuinely just believe that your scarf has helped insulate his neck and warm up his face. Which it had, but not as much as your scent had done.

Spencer’s normally sharp mind stumbled over words, and he couldn't help but fidget with the ends of the scarf as he tried to formulate a response.

"Yeah… thanks," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

His reaction brought a soft smile to your face, alongside a small chuckle at his seeming inability to form a full sentence. "You're welcome Spencer, but it's just a scarf,”

But for Spencer, it was more than that, it was a tangible connection to you. The combination of your proximity and the familiar fragrance leaving him pleasantly flustered and mildly overstimulated.

As the day unfolded, the team couldn't help but notice the change in Spencer's demeanour. Teasing remarks were exchanged, and Spencer, although still focused on his files, couldn't escape the playful banter.

At the end of the day, you approached him, a twinkle in your eye. "I think you should keep the scarf," you suggested, "You need it more than I do."

Spencer's shy smile revealed his appreciation, and he nodded, holding onto the scarf as a cherished memento of a day that had unravelled his usual composure.

[justabrick]

It perplexes me that all the other Winds have their motivations and reasoning aknowledged and analyzed, meanwhile Sundowner's gets habitually reduced to just "when you kill civilians lmao". I mean, it IS funny, the man is the embodiment of the incoming ham trope, after all.

Mistral and Monsoon have incredibly tragic backstories and Sundowner technically doesn't. It's not tragic on account of him being... well, no explanation needed, but it is still quite fucked nonetheless.

He had a basic bitch childhood compared to his squadmates. Poverty sucks no matter where you are, but it's nothing compared to the absolute horrorshow the other two went through. Instead, I think the formative experience that really created the monster that is Sundowner came way later in his life.

Lemme quote Kevin here: "Anyway, an IED put him out of action for a few years, but then cyborg tech brought him outta retirement." Nice and casual, easy to pass over, Sundowner himself doesn't even talk of it at all, as compared to Mistral and Monsoon who explain their past with appropriate gravitas.

But I'll give it a bit (a lot) more attention because I think it's the definitive thing that made Sundowner who he is by the time we see him. So what did exactly happen to force him out of the battlefield? If you're not squeamish, proceed to put in "dismounted complex blast injury" in your search bar and navigate to the image tab. If you don't feel like ruining your evening, which I wouldn't blame you for, I'll describe somewhat briefly. It's highly likely he lost both legs, and nearly as likely sustained massive injuries to the pelvis as it's the typical scenario. Not a small chance that he had either one or both arms ruined as well.

That covers "put him out of action" part of the quote, now I must highlight another important bit - "for a few years". You don't normally say "a few years" unless it's at the very least three. So by the end of it what we have is Sundowner, hopelessly disfigured and helpless, left to stew in his misery for years.

For a man who lives and breathes battle like him, it must have been a living nightmare, the absolute worst possible scenario in which his career could have ended in his eyes - left to slowly rot away while being pitied. And it is stated in one of the optional CODECs that disability pay outs are a joke, so it's a pitiful existence even on the financial front. I bet he wished that explosion actually just killed him right then and there.

Is it any wonder then that Sundowner glorifies war as much as he does? He's spent his entire life in it, it has given him the feeling of control he lacked initially, money, plenty of opportunities for power trips, and a home away from home. The two periods of life he was a civilian are marked by a feeling of powerlessness, and his time fighting - a feeling of power.

And it's just war itself he glorifies, too, not any pretty reasoning for it like "freedom" or justice, which I think is important. May be an odd opinion, but I think the guy is the opposite of a patriot of his county, which is pretty amusing considering the extremely stereotypical southern accent. It's even in several aspects of his design, as well. He's a full blooded American, but his body is designed to resemble a Japanese shogun, he fights in a Chinese sword fighting style, his song title is "Red Sun". Just one of these would be a fun detail, two - a curious coincidence, and three is just piling it on in my opinion. Compare and contrast with the other two 'murrican characters - Armstrong and Khamsin which have nothing mixed in that would contradict their national identity.

And aside from these "hints", he straight up celebrates the worst terrorist attack in American history. And a curious detail. His quote: "Demand for PMC's is about to skyrocket. Like the good ol' days after 9/11!". Assuming in mgs universe it happened in 2001, Sundowner wasn't in a PMC to really feel these "good ol' days" himself, as he only became a merc in 2008.

He may have been a lot like Khamsin prior to the injury actually, dressing up his sadism and bloodlust under the guise of some higher purpose. But after getting chewed up and spat out by the machine he'd have a lot of time to ruminate on why exactly he did what he did and wanted what he wanted. At least three years to have an epiphany on inherent human cruelty. An accurate observation in my opinion, but he chose the absolute worst route by believing that it should be embraced rather than fought.

Why better yourself when you can justify your shortcomings as just following an instinct? It's pretty pathetic when you think of it.

But yeah, I think there is an interesting character hiding under all the ham. He's just not very talkative about it unlike his colleagues. Interesting and utterly monstrous. He does have some positive traits though, two in fact - it's them juicy thighs.

[killuakiru]

hello!! could you write headcanons for killua and gon (separately) w a fem!reader that looks/dresses masculine/very androgynous and sometimes even gets misgendered as a guy? ty!! <3

Yes I absolutely can !! Thank you for your request dear anon 🫶

⊹₊⋆ Androgynous!Reader x Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freeces ( Separate ! ) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Let's start! ༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Lets say, hypothetically, you both met during the Hunter's Exam, and Gon introduced you to him !

• At first, he found you suuuper interesting! ‘cause he saw a "boy" with a soft expression, and such a soft voice as well! Something you don't see or hear often.

• He made a mental note to tease you about your feminine features in the future.

• Although, nonetheless, you three bonded like no other. But you'd always question why Killua was so touchy. ( Like swinging an arm around your shoulder, hitting / patting your back. Yk, dude activity! )

• Up until the end of the Hunter's Exam, he NEVER knew that you were a girl. Hell– even when the group rescued him from the Zoldyck estate!

• "Gon! Oh– [Name], too!" He mentions your name VERY cheerfully! Even hitting your waist with both of his fists– it's a miracle he didn't question the shape of your waist as a female.

• It wasn't until during the training in Heaven's Arena that he found out.

• "[Name]'s taking FOREVER! He sure takes his sweet time." Killua grumbles, sighing and shaking his head in a disapproval manner. Gon perks up and faces Killua with a confused expression. [Name] is a she?" He mentions, baffling Killua. "WHAT?!"

• And, said "she" comes out in her glory, quite literally wearing a SKIRT. Clad in a long beige cardigan, long sleeve white tshirt underneath, and a long khaki pleaded skirt that're below her knees for a change, SHE waved to the duo.

• "Hi! Sorry I took a while. I didn't know skirts were honestly such a hassle to buckle." She says with an exasperated sigh, placing both hands on her hips. "No problem! But you should really change, I mean, we're fighting and it must be uncomfortable to wear a skirt." Gon exclaims, walking over to the female. She nods with a grin, "No worries, I always have a change of clothes."

• During this interaction, Killua was STUNNED. What do you mean he's been SO touchy with a female all this time?!

• "Killua, stop staring! Let's sign up already!" [Name] called and faced the counter and signed some papers.

• While this didn't change Killua's and [Name]'s friendship, Killua will ALWAYS be embarrassed. He honestly feels SO bad that he misgendered you for a few months.

• after that interaction, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a tad bit interested in [Name]!

༉‧₊˚. Gon Freecss ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• It's either he's already aware that you're a female or he's so clueless

• In a scene where he's already aware, his instincts probably told him that you're a female LMAO, he's like "You dress kind of funny!" Since the people in Whale Island usually wear long skirts / dresses

• But he's soso positive about it!! He's always like "Your style is so cool!" As he babbles about the traditional clothing in Whale Island

• In a scene where he IS clueless, he'll treat you exactly how he treats Killua! The difference would honestly be the softness on his voice

• Due to living with two women his entire life, he's gotten used to being softer on women ( as per Mita's words )

• When you both met, let's say in the Hunter's Exam and you wear like a soft feminine perfume despite your clothing he goes "Hi miss!" In an excited tone.

• Of course, you were pleasantly surprised because a lot of people would call you "sir" or "little boy / boy" all the time.

• In contrast to Killua, he read in between the lines and connected the dot that you were a female by your soft expression & voice.

• Now if he DIDN'T know, he'd probably go like "Hi sir!" As well, and since he was pretty forward with his greeting, you got to correct him earlier.

• But hypothetically, let's say he just walked up to you saying he wants to be friends!

• He probably found out through the end of the Hunter's Exam, or during the rescuing of Killua!

• If he found out through the end of the Hunter's Exam, he probably found out through observing your fighting style!

• If you fought with your fists, he found out with the way you move your body– naturally, a female's body would have a softer tone unlike a male who would be on the rougher edges!

• same goes if you use any weapons or special techniques :3

• You might be thinking– if Gon found all these out by observing, why didn't Killua? Simple! Because he was sooo convinced you were a boy and he didn't bother observing you!

• When Gon found out, he was straight forward! "[Name].. Are you by any chance a girl?" He asks in a genuine & curious manner, and how could you stay mad at him?! It was an honest mistake he did!

• You just cleared up everything, saying that you prefer wearing the clothing you wear for comfortability, and because it hides your movements easily to the point you can easily fool your opponent! ( get the reference ? )

• He listened closely and attentively, and he was really respectful about it too! Such a gentleman!

• ( If Killua knew beforehand ) Killua definitely teased Gon about it, humorously saying he was stupid for not knowing a clear thing! ( even when he was fooled too in the beginning )

• Through the times you three adventured through the world up until the end, Gon loved you SOO much! He loves you for who you are even when people make fun of him for choosing a girl that looks like a boy :)

• In the end, he was happy, even after he lost his ability to use Nen, he's glad there's someone who'll take care of him and his reckless choices <3

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Hopefully you like this anon ! 🫶 I had fun making this, I apologize if this seems too ooc ( out of character ) since I sprinkled a lil own hc of their characters !

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

Masterlist here !

[mufos-photo-album]

The Swordmaster, dressed up as her primary design inspirations

If you like reading, I've included some commentary about the Swordmaster's inspirations (including ones not depicted above!) as well as one (1) kinda funny picture below the cut.

When thinking about how to design Mufotsuki/Piripu into the Sword/Spearmaster, I knew from the beginning that I wanted them to be based on magical girls and super saiyans respectively. When it came to actually designing them though, I ditched the Swordmaster being based around magical girls specifically. There might be an inkling or two of meguca in there, however most magical girl designs I found online (as well as from media I like) were waaaay too feminine for my liking. So, I looked to my favorite girlprince, Utena Tenjou from Revolutionary Girl Utena. The Swordmaster takes after Utena in mainly visual aspects, inheriting Utena's pauldron thingies and hairstyle (to some degree). I knew that I wanted the Swordmaster's hair to be different from Mufotsuki's, however I couldn't bring myself to get rid of Mufotsuki's braids. So, I amped up the braid length and gave the Swordmaster some bangs adjacent to Utena's. Utena was also one of a few characters who encouraged me to take a "knightly" approach the the Swordmaster's design.

Up next is Mami Tomoe from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, who actually had zero bearing on the Swordmaster's design but contributed mainly in vibes. For those unfamiliar, Mami Tomoe is the oldest girl in the main cast of Madoka Magica, and she serves as a role model to the others as well as being the ideal image of a magical girl. In whatever story the Swordmaster and Spearmaster are in, I want the Swordmaster to have a similar role/vibe (though maybe not as tragic, ahem...) Mami Tomoe also serves as inspiration for how the Swordmaster carries herself in and outside of a battle. She acts rather dainty most of the time, however she knows how to hold herself up in a fight, and her often soft nature serves as a contrast to her stern moments. No doubt a show-off, but she does it with the flavors of elegance and poise.

These characters have less of a bearing on the Swordmaster's design/personality, but were nonetheless ones I thought about while designing her.

Sayaka Miki, also from Madoka Magica: Probably the first magical girl I looked to when I wanted to base the Swordmaster's design purely on magical girls. Sayaka is probably why I decided to make Mufotsuki the Swordmaster. Similarly, Sayaka's counterpart, Kyoko Sakura, might've been why I made Piripu the Spearmaster. +1 to knight inspiration.

Diamond, from Land of the Lustrous: No direct design influence, some personality influence. Diamond has a soft way of speaking that influences how both Mufotsuki and the Swordmaster are heard in my head. Some of the ways Diamond fights also serve as inspiration for how the Swordmaster fights, but the techniques I think about aren't wholly unique to Diamond and kinda belong to Land of the Lustrous as a whole.

Ludovica Bonnaire, from Tiger Tiger: Ludovica as a character probably has the least influence on the Swordmaster. Her influence is actually based on how another character described her, calling Ludovica the "princesscaptain". This title tickled me, so I kept the words "princess knight" in my mind while drawing the Swordmaster.

...Lookit you, reading all the way down to the bottom! Guess I owe you that funny picture, HOOAH!

Color theory is my passion! (Context: When I color, I use a LOT of layers to make the process later on easier/neater. Splitting color zones into parts also makes some aspects of shading easier. Laying down these ugly colors first helps me distinguish other color zones from each other.)

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Thinking about Wooly in When You Feel Bad

Okay so like... everyone noticed that Wooly was acting kind of funny in the "When You Feel Bad" Tape right? Here's some things I noticed... just note there is a LOT of detail put into this tape so I'm definitely not going to be able to notice and cover everything... I don't even think a post that long would fit in the tumblr text limit...

Anyway first thing I noticed is that right after he says, "How about an Adventure?" he looks directly at the camera. Everything about how he says this feels very scripted. But the interesting thing is... his face immediately changes to one of nervousness or unease as soon as his finishes this sentence and his eyes slowly turn in her direction, BEFORE Amanda even says anything. Almost like he knows that this is not what Amanda wants or needs right now, so it's gonna piss her off. However, it's probably what the SHOW needs, in order for the episode to continue.

Before I continue, I'd like to share a little theory. I think the narrator's story might actually be the correct scripted one the episode was meant to read. Hameln does enjoy subtle but slightly harmful messaging, and telling a friend a sad story to cheer them up might be one of them. I think Wooly was supposed to start the story and the narrator was supposed to continue it (with our help). Because otherwise, why would the narrator be there at all if Wooly was supposed to tell the story? If that's the case, why isn't our script-loving Wooly following the script?

I have two theories:

1. First off, if you answer "tragedy" or "sad" for your favorite type of story, Wooly glances at Amanda (who doesn't appear to be paying attention) and says "We don't like those kinds of stories AT ALL." But... this is lie. We know Amanda likes these stories. So that means... the one who really doesn't like them is Wooly. His reaction to horror also implies that he has some of the trademark Hameln trauma too, though he doesn't seem to show it as much as Amanda. It's kind of a weird reaction to have honestly... like, why would the mention of the word "horror" give you flashbacks of... whatever THAT was. I've had this theory for a while now that part of the reason Wooly tries to change the subject when Amanda talks about sad stuff might simply be because HE doesn't like talking/thinking about this kind of stuff. When we answer "horror" he says he wishes he hadn't asked. In comparison, whenever Amanda remembers something about her past, like when we first mentioned Sam, she seemed confused and maybe a little suspicious of us, but she never flat out has said she regrets remembering these memories, despite how unpleasant they can be. It's a weird contrast. Almost like Amanda wants to remember and Wooly wants to forget. And he really doesn't seem to like listening to the narrator's story when it's told. It's almost like he was trying to avoid it getting told at all. In this case, it was never about cheering Amanda up and Wooly was being rather selfish here. So in order to prevent the narrator's story from getting told, he tells his own.

Which could explain why it's so bland and uncreative, considering Amanda (even in this episode alone) is shown to be the creative type of the two. She's an artist. We've never seen Wooly try and be creative before, so maybe it's just not his thing?

Another interesting thing is, Amanda goes off script quite often and the show seems to bend to her will, but for Wooly it doesn't. (in both this tape and the second In Your Neighborhood tape). It's almost like Amanda seems to get rewarded for going off script (aka in getting what she wants) and Wooly gets punished for it. But it always works for which might be why Wooly is surprised when the same doesn't work for him. But he continues to try nonetheless, trying to get HIS story back on track.

He continues to tell the story wrong ON purpose. Probably hoping he can get the show to play along, the way it always does for Amanda. But it FAILS again. Wooly starts to get frustrated and eventually realizes we're the ones messing with his story. When he asks us to at least TRY and go along with his story, he sounds annoyed which we don't get often from Wooly. So anyway that's theory 1.

Theory 2 goes a bit deeper.

To preface this, I don't 100% believe in this theory I could be wrong but I just want to put the idea on the table. It started with this detail I noticed and found REALLY interesting.

When the narrator says "the knight slew the dragon, not knowing they were killing their true love" Wooly looks at his hands with this weird, wide-eyed expression, while Amanda says the knight is going to regret that.

I've always thought his reaction here was a little strange. Like it didn't make sense. But what if this line is implying something about Wooly? I do think that this story is a metaphor for something, but it isn't a word-for-word representation of what happened. It is simply a SAD STORY to cheer Amanda up. But bits and pieces of it may remind Amanda and Wooly both of events that happened in their life. Amanda might relate to being separated from someone she cares about and to being turned into a monster (in her case, the demon) without her consent. But Wooly might relate to other things. For this scene in particular maybe he hurt someone he really cared about in a way he couldn't take back and really regrets that? (like the knight killing their true love, killing someone is something that cannot be undone). Once again, I don't think it's supposed to be a one-to-one thing. This line could even be hinting at Amanda and Wooly's falling out. Amanda tells us in the final tape that Wooly did something to betray her trust. Wooly and Amanda used to be best friends. So maybe Wooly did something that really hurt Amanda, something that could not be taken back. Something that ultimately made him lose his best friend and he regrets that. In multiple scenes in this series, Wooly seems to look sad or guilty when Amanda shows anger towards him or says they aren't friends anymore. So it's very possible that this is the case. That said, another common theme with Wooly is that he doesn't seem to enjoy looking at or talking about subjects that make him uncomfortable. (When Amanda talks about death, he seems extremely uncomfortable, when they watch the cat eat the bird he says he feels like he's going to be sick and his constant changing the subject routine that happens throughout the series). So this story, that might in some way remind him of a mistake he made might be something he doesn't want to hear. He doesn't want to be reminded that he screwed up in a way he can't take back, he doesn't want to hear it.

Side note, when Wooly suggests that finishing the story might cheer her up, she doesn't object, she sits back down and looks at him (albeit still pretty upset) and waits for him to continue.

As the narrator's story continues Wooly starts to seem really angry about it. And then he starts getting really like emotionally bent out of shape. Then there's the whole, "There was a big battle, the brave knight prevailed and then-" and Wooly stops, once again having this weird look on his face. Like this got too personal.

Wooly goes on to talk about how the Knight saves the princess and they live happily ever after.

I think this could imply that at one point or another, Wooly had some sort of chance to do something to help Amanda or save her from her fate. A chance he didn't take. Maybe this didn't even happen while they were trapped, but beforehand and Amanda found out later and got reasonably upset. In any case, it does feel like Wooly may be projecting to an extent. Maybe even trying to subtly tell Amanda that he's sorry, and he doesn't like how their story went. Something that Amanda clearly didn't pick up on. This would be interesting since it's not the first time the game or it's characters have tried to tell us something subtly through a story. Amanda did it through the lonely kitten and the farm animals. I'm not 100% sure that's what is going on here, but I am acknowledging the possibility. Regardless of what Wooly was trying to do, the true ending to this is that he fails.

Going off that theory, something else that add to this is the annoyance Wooly expresses when Amanda dislikes his story. He knows this isn't the story she likes, but if he were trying to tell her something with it, it'd be pretty annoying if he felt like she was ignoring that message. As Amanda keeps criticizing Wooly's story, Wooly claims he's doing his best to cheer her up. Which is a lie. This whole "I'm going to tell my own story" is incredibly selfish and misguided on Wooly's part. Amanda clearly isn't getting the point or liking the story. Even if Wooly was trying to hide some apology in this story, it still doesn't make it okay for him to activitely ignore Amanda's feelings. Besides, even if he is trying to apologize, the apology itself probably comes off a bit mockingly? Like... "I wish our lives didn't completely suck, I wish I had done something about it when I had the chance. But I'll never actually say it to your face." Another thing- Wooly clearly seems to feel genuninely bad about whatever he did to Amanda- but he has never even TRIED to apologize to her!!!

Amanda asking "why doesn't the dragon just put her out of her misery?" I think this adds to my other theory that Amanda just wants to be out of here. She wants to bring an end to what feels like an endless nightmare.

Idk if this post makes ANY sense and like there are so many more details that I could uncover I just wanted to share these two little theories. I do actually really like the idea that Wooly might actually be trying to hint at an apology in changing the sad story to a happy one but I'm probably thinking too deeply about this. Anyway I just wanted to share my thoughts! Hope you enjoy!

Bonus:

But I thought Wooly says he doesn't like scary stuff? I mean it's just a dragon so it isn't really scary but this was kinda weird of him right?

Is this a spelling error or is it intentional and somehow important? Genuinely asking.