#eyelid doesn't close all the way for the same reason
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cherryzombiezz-art · 5 months ago
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you guys like this right
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luveline · 1 year ago
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I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.
maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out
ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty 
cw criminal minds typical gun violence
Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning. 
The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly. 
In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt. 
You'd like to keep it that way. 
It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour. 
Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again. 
It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return. 
You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage. 
It's deep but small. A nick. 
The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means… 
You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid. 
He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor. 
"You were sleeping? I'm sorry." 
"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream." 
He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?" 
"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?" 
"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence." 
"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay." 
You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?" 
"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?" 
"You want to tell me, right?" 
"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope." 
"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again. 
"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."
Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?" 
"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside." 
"What were you doing up?" 
"That's my business," Morgan says. 
Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers. 
Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops. 
Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby. 
"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?" 
"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?" 
Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading. 
"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night." 
She gawps. 
Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never…  and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–" 
You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?" 
"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down." 
"Yes sir." 
Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly. 
Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…" 
"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh. 
"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me." 
"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now." 
Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away. 
"I don't deserve him," you say softly. 
Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something. 
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cloudnineminusnine · 6 months ago
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How would the Destined One and Wukong (separate) react to you asking to sit on their face?😏😏🙂‍↕️
P.s- Love your blog here on Tumblr, I do sincerely hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, only answer if you wish of course💖
oh, it's fine anon! it doesn't make me uncomfortable, not at all. i apologize in advance for any spell mistakes as i'm still learning to write in english.
without further ado, here you go! (and nanashiii thank you once again, partner in crime 😶‍🌫️)
!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD SO MINORS GET OUT!
in both situations you're in the middle of things with them. afab reader!
♡ sun wukong got your sweaty body caged by his hairy arms, pressing your arched back on the smooth surface with the weight of his own body, lips avidly leaving trails of his devotion over your exposed neck and chest — when they weren't busy muffling your needy murmurs.
you can barely take your stare away from his lustful eyes, piercing you so hungrily "please, i- let me sit in your face, please!" a hot breath blows past your lips, heavy with so much desire that it makes you feel dizzy. he's shivering above your body, clenching his jaw to suppress a scandalous moaning from escaping.
"you...!" oh, so that was the reason you wouldn't take your eyes off him, getting all worked up everytime his eyes rolled to the back of his skull in pleasure. he knew you were up to something, acting weird somehow, spacing out. fine, he gives you the permission to turn that humble wish of yours into reality. it would be kind of the same as eating you out, rigth? so no complaints on his side.
for the first time ever you would be in charge, literally on top of him. he seems enthusiastic about the idea, amusement painted all over his face, and a smug grin showing up when you slowly push him backwards, crawling over him. he tries his best to not burst his load as soon as your hips are hovering his face, so close that your scent impregnate his senses, luring him in.
almost at your limit, there's no time for you to lose with being ashamed. your trembling knees sit around his head and the touch of his big rough hands find it's way immediately up your tensed thights, smoothing your skin lovingly. he's got the perfect balance in between calm and restlessness.
"now do it, love. sit on my face with all that you have, just as you want." he encourages you, and there's a faint hint of a plead in his tone that makes your insides squint. you can't control yourself when he's talking to you like that, staring at you like that. he looked totally blissed out. brown pupils filled with adoration being eclipsed by the heavy eyelids.
you do as said, crying out loud when you meet the hasty tongue halfway. he goes in like he's in a hurry, not able to wait anymore, not wanting to, giving in to the temptation of being drowned by your heated core.
and it was kind of different than eating you out. but so, so much better. the heaviness of your naughty hips moving against his mouth and the warmth of your soft thighs around his sensitive ears, i'ts so hot. he goes feral, immobilizing your legs with the tight grip of his hands to keep you in place, wet tongue burning and messing each and every spot he can reach as your juices drip by the corners of his lips.
you can sense his non stop moans vibrating deliciously through your soaked walls, making it hard for you to not just give in and cum all over his face. you can't just yet. you need him inside.
some time is needed for the both of you to calm down, to climb down from the top of a iminent climax. the overwhelming feeling making your legs so weak that you simply sit above his chest, delighted by the sight ahead.
he looks so fucked out, like never before, and just the image is enough to pull a painful moan out of you. panting deeply in the middle of horny grunts, you can see those beautiful eyes of him blurred by lust, yet he still smiles like the cocky monkey he is — vestiges your nectar glistering over his lips and chin.
you can tell it's not enough for him by the way he nips at your inner thighs with his teeth, slowly lapping each bite right after, hairy hands easing carefully your petrifying tension until you feel like feeding him again.
♡ the so called destined one, less composed than he normally is when it comes to you. whenever you two start to make out he find a way to have your body closer, to the point of almost fusing in one single being. he's always on the verge of desperation, wanting to make sure that you feel pampered, worshipped — and of course you take advantage of the fact that he clearly has a sweet spot for you.
"you know, i..." sultrily you whisper against his lips, making him fidget under you, gulping down with anticipation"i wonder how it feels to sit in your face" faking a innocent tone you bat your lashes smoothly at him, earning a frustrated, low mumble in response. you know just how to melt him.
mesmerized by your lustful hungry eyes he surrenders himself readily, lying on his back as soon as your hand push him to. you travel up his body with your lips first, kissing everywhere in an attempt to calm him down a little — his breath has gotten rigged to the point of coloring his handsome face in scarlet red. so adorable.
he begs you silently with his endearing, pretty brown eyes, shivering under the weight of your body and words, barely breathing cause the air around you suddenly feels so dense.
"is that alright? would you like that, sweetie?" you lick his neck intensely, causing visible chills to run through his torso. he's nothing but a mess, losing himself to desire so easily.
moaning wholeheartedly, he break down from his silent facade. big calloused hands make their way to your waist so he can press you down on him. he so want it. "yes, please-... please do it!" in a painful expression his brows frown, accompanied right away by that obscenely raspy voice, causing you to throb eagerly.
one last prolonged kiss to his jawline, inhaling his fruity scent harshly, and then you're ready to go. he watches intently as your hips approach his face, your smaller hands guiding his to your thighs — wich causes him to pulsate down bellow. he feels like a vulnerable prey ready to be engulfed by you, and he loves it.
"you can touch me as much as you want, alright?" as you hover his mouth you let go of his agitated hands which waste no time, squeezing, kneading and caressing your responsive body, burning over your sensitive skin.
he goes for it thirstily, it feels like the it's first time he's exploring you, but he knows just where to touch and what to do, feeling you up in way that makes you lose a bit of your balance, immediately sitting right on his face. you try your best do keep the surprised scream to yourself, firmly biting down on you lip. a hoarse grunt resonates through your insides and he presses you so hard that his wet muscle seems to go deeper than it would usually.
he's not much skilled and that's exactly why everything with him gets much more intense. it's all about how good he wants to make you feel, and how needy he turns to be in the process.
the more you spill over his mouth the more he wants to drown himself in, the harder he squeeze your hips and waist. he needs more, he wants to get fully drunk on you.
you're on the verge of cumming already, lightheaded, sweaty and panting, but you can't stop riding him — and he's taking it so, so good.
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the-kr8tor · 17 days ago
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Can you pretty please write a bdas one where r gathers the crew up and shows them how to sew a wound the same way she showed Hobie on the island? I think it'd be funny to know the different reactions.
Like, some would be concerned that r js dragged her blade through her palm, some would think r turned crazy, and some would think r's badass. The reasoning for her teaching would be that she realized the crew would be dropping left and right without her. With the fact that they're too reckless sometimes.
Please and thanks Katy!! Love your writing so much and I hope you're doing well 💕💗💜
I miss writing for the pirate sillies 🥹 I hope you like it! ❤️
Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Tags: No use of Y/N, so specific physical description of the reader, pirate AU, reader is a medical professional don't worry, set in my BDAS series. Between the devil and the sea AU, CW blood and injury, spider trio cameo, fluff.
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“Why do we have to go through this again?” Gwen groans as you push her towards the infirmary of the ship.
“Because you're all too reckless and I keep stitching you all up more than a seamstress stitches clothes!” You exclaim as you and Gwen enter the room.
The two of you are met with rambunctious laughter and chatter. A few of the members play around on the surgery table, playing around it and pretending they're doing surgery on Miles, who's laying still on the table. You cringe at the fact that they're holding your precious instruments with their bare hands that still stinks of gunpowder and wood. Hobie, your captain that's supposed to be a role model, chases Pavitr around with a jar of a specimen floating around in fluid. Pav screams, running all over the already small infirmary.
As if things couldn't be worse, James looks through the medicine cabinet while Yuri urges him to drink a mysterious vial that would definitely kill a grown elephant.
You let go of Gwen and shut the door with a resounding slam. It doesn't take much for them to quiet down after seeing the stern look on your face.
Hobie freezes in place, mid chase as he holds the jar above his head. Clearing his throat, he gently places the jar down on the shelf and gestures for everyone to stand to one side of the room. All the while smiling sheepishly at you like a child caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. Or in this case, inside a dead frog floating in amber fluid.
Miles almost staggers as he jumps off the table because of the gauze sticking on his eyelids. Gwen stifles a laugh, heading towards him with a helping hand and tugging the bandage off. You and Hobie share a look from their interaction. Smiling softly at the two lovebirds.
“Right,” you sigh out when everyone is standing to one side of the table while you're on the other end. “I called you in here because— Yuri.” Turning towards the raven haired, you open your palm out to her.
“What?” She says innocently.
You only give her a look, brow raised and fingers opening and closing.
With a sigh and a disgruntled groan, she takes a vial out of her pocket and hands it to you before returning back into the line.
“Good, as I was saying, I called you all in here today to teach you the basics of treating an injured crew member.”
James raises his hand.
“What is it James?”
“We can only treat fellow crew members?” He asks, scratching his cheek.
“No, anyone you want to help, I guess.”
Yuri raises her hand.
“Yes, Yuri?”
“What if I don't want to help them and they're actually a prick?”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don't know, Yuri, it depends on who you're talking about.”
James raises his hand again, side eyeing Yuri.
You groan, “yes, James?”
“I think she was talking about me.” He points at Yuri accusingly.
“Then she has to help you—”
Hobie raises his hand, smiling from ear to ear.
“Yes, captain?” You warn him with your tone.
“I need to go to the loo.” A resounding guffaw echoes out.
“Oh for fucks sake!” You unsheathe your dagger, showing off the newly sharpened metal.
“Shit, love!” Hobie yelps in shock, but his smile says he's impressed and even proud.
The crew members gasp, some in a panic and some in amusement. Pav was the former, almost looking like he's about to cry at the sight of you holding your dagger right above the back of your hand.
“What're you doin'?” Hobie has his hand reaching towards you, feet slowly inching to your side. “C’mon, love, we were just jokin’”
“Oh, I know. Don't do this on your own.” You shrug as you cut deeply at the back of your hand, wincing at the pain as Hobie rushes to your side and takes the dagger away from you and then grabs your bleeding hand.
“Fuck! Why'd you do that?!” Hobie panics, while the other crew members scream at the blood dripping from your hand down to the floorboards.
“Fucking badass.” Yuri nods in approval together with James who is in awe of the deep cut.
“As a demonstration.” You say calmly, but with the way your jaw tightens, you're in pain. “What—” you hiss as Hobie grips the cut, trying to stop the bleeding. “What are you going to do in this situation?”
“What?!” Gwen bolts over to your shelves to find a clean cloth. “You're fucking bleeding!”
“Exactly,” You say in between clenched teeth. Hobie's petting your hand and murmuring apologies against it. “Hobie, I'm fine.”
“I can see through your hand!” He cries out, eyes glimmering as the ship rocks against the waves.
“Yeah and you're doing great at trying to stop the bleeding.” You praise him, only to be met with a confused look. Turning towards the bewildered crew members and to Pav, who's being held up by Miles lest he falls on his knees. “You're going to need some clean cloth to stop it, or else you're increasing my chance of getting infected.”
“Scuttlebutt, I love you, but what the fuck?” He whisper yells as if he's about to lose his voice.
“I love you too, remember what I taught you back on the island.” You beam at him, kissing the tip of his nose briefly.
Hobie inhales and straightens up like the real captain that he is. “Gwen, the cloth is on your right, inside the top drawer.” Gwen does what she's told, frantically ripping out clean fabric. “Yuri, grab the antiseptic inside that shelf, it's the green jar.” Yuri mocks a salute and then heads towards the shelf. “James, the suture kit is on that table, you can't miss it.”
James rushes to get the needle and thread as Gwen packs your wound with the cloth. “Good on you, Gwen.”
“Don't fucking do that again.” She points at you as Hobie tightens his hold on your wound, effectively stopping the bleeding. You could only smile at her.
“Miles—” Hobie calls for him, only to find that he's holding onto an unconscious Pav whilst fanning his face. “Uh, take care of Pav.”
The captain meets with your eyes as you grin at him. “What's next, captain?”
“Scuttle work for you next week once you're healed.” He threatens, worry still etched on his face as he checks if the blood has stopped flowing out.
“Aww, that's not part of it though.” His grey eyes narrow, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. “I love you, good job.” You say with a lilt, eyes shining bright and alert, a good sign for Hobie.
He clicks his tongue in reply, but he still places a quick kiss on your wrist before laying your hand on the table to continue treating you and in turn teaching the crew. The scuttle work will be worth it now that you have taught them all a valuable lesson that might save someone's life in the future.
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If you liked this please check out my pirate au series! 🩵
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alexiethymia · 1 year ago
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Boiling Hot Iron vs Lukewarm Water
Maomao's Way of Affection Part 2
[LN 12 spoilers]
I AM ACTUALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. I mean I read it somewhere, but apparently yes, Maomao does initiate the kiss in the light novel. Even if she did accept his feelings, I always thought that it might have been too fast the way she was ready for a night visit already, but I always chalked it up to her upbringing in the pleasure district and her being fifty-fifty that Jinshi wouldn't actually try anything. But the fact that she is the one to actually instigate a kiss, and quite a sweet one at that, while Jinshi was sleeping. This scene in LN 12 really is in contrast to the scene in LN 5 where it was Jinshi who forced the kiss, and even to later on when Maomao ends up falling asleep and Jinshi restrains himself to a kiss on the forehead for replenishment.
It's hard to be coherent with my ramblings but one of the reasons why I love this series is the slow burn on Maomao's part which is really fulfilling, and the slight angst we get because of that, and not just on Jinshi's part.
Below is a translation from the Spanish translation of LN 12:
She just doesn't get it. He wants to step down from his position near the top of the country for a purpose. If that purpose was MaoMao himself, he would definitely have gone mad.
It's as hot as cast iron.
Maomao is not interested in such blazing heat. The only thing she can give back is a warm temperature.
Slowly puts his hand on Mr. Jinshi's cheek and feels his body temperature, which is the same as warm water. Her cheek was slightly colder. His eyelids were completely closed and he rubbed his cheek against my hand like a kitten to be pet. Looks like he sleeps, like he feels safe.
Maomao seems to struggle with the inequality of Jinshi's feelings and hers. She compares Jinshi's feelings to hot cast iron, and hers to warm water. And no wonder, to her, Jinshi willing to give up everything, including his position, for her, seems to be such a passionate love. As much as she snarks and would rather say that she could just do without all of Jinshi's gestures (*cough branding himself for example, this damn masochist cough*), she recognizes how much Jinshi has given up and is willing to give up for her, not to mention all that he has in fact given her.
She even goes to say, "I don't even have anything in return for you." When she says this line, I think that she isn't just referring to being unable to return the depth of Jinshi's feelings, but even their difference in position. As Suiren observes, despite Maomao's forthrightness, perhaps because of the environment they're in, she is very much aware of her station.
It's such a melancholic line coming from her. It seems to me as if she really is afraid of hurting Jinshi. She already doesn't like the thought of Jinshi being hurt like Luomen, but now she also doesn't want to be the one to hurt him. On top of that, for the normally aloof Maomao, it may be that she's starting to feel unconfident precisely because of the difference in position.
Maomao strikes me as a person who wants to be used. Even when she wasn't in love with Jinshi yet, she always seemed to want to be praised for doing a good job. So for her to think that it's just her who keeps receiving and receiving, while not being able to give anything back, the inequality (this time going in the reverse direction) must bother her a lot. She never used to care so for her to feel different from how she usually does because of Jinshi - caring about him, being unsure of herself because of him - oh she must hate how that feels so no wonder she wants to remove herself from the equation. But alas, it's too late.
Unlike Maomao though, I don't think that there's such a disparity between her feelings and Jinshi's despite that she describes his feelings as boiling hot and hers as warm. Yes definitely I feel that Jinshi's feelings may be stronger, but I feel that Maomao's is actually closer to his than she thinks. I think it may be because the nature of their feelings may be strongly influenced by their past.
Jinshi has always had the things he's loved taken from him. He wasn't allowed to prioritize a single thing or a single person because of the responsibilities he's had to assume from such a young age. Sure he's childish now but that may be because he had to grow up fast. Of course he would be desperate and slightly bit manic when it comes finally falling in love. He'll always feel that Maomao will be taken away from him unless he does something about it with his own hands.
Meanwhile, because of Maomao's complicated past with her birth parents, it's no wonder that Jinshi's passion unnerves her. Remember it was that same passion that caused her mother to hurt her. No wonder she doesn't want it. But when it comes to that feeling called love, that's the only version she recognizes because that's what she's been surrounded with in the pleasure district and even in the rear palace - lust imitating love, or even if it was love, a passionate and all-consuming love that destroys everything in its path.
But what does Jinshi make her feel? Trust. Safety. Even if her rational mind tells her that people's feelings change, Jinshi's constant proclamations that he will make everything be ok so that the both of them can be together may in fact actually reassure her. Heck, perhaps that was why Maomao goaded him to make that verbal confession a while back, precisely so she could have that assurance. She doesn't recognize it because she's never seen or had it, but perhaps this stability is something she's wanted her whole life. And I would say her feelings for Jinshi are nearly as strong as his for her, precisely because she feels for him the same way he makes her feel. Nothing passionate but also uncertain. But rather something warm and can be relied on. It's a feeling that pushes her to want to see him safe and healthy. It's a comforting and homey feeling that allows her to relax. And for Maomao who's always considered herself frigid, for her frozen heart to feel that warmth is also a tiny miracle in a way.
Jinshi is childish. Maomao is weird. But apart from their extremes, they're actually a lot alike - engrossed in their work, willful, but ultimately just. Apart from anything else, they're at ease when they can talk to each other. It's actually interesting for me to see how those emotions develop from Maomao's side since Jinshi is giving her space to take things at her own pace, another slow burn in a way. But while Jinshi's love is loud, Maomao's love is quiet. Even before this admission, it was always there, in the soft touches to the hair or cheeks, in being a refuge for rest and sleep, in her worry when he was overworking himself. The moment I would pinpoint that Maomao had actually already fallen in love with Jinshi was when she was contemplating Enen and Yao's relationship. She thinks to herself, "the more you cared for someone, the more you wanted a say in how they behaved - especially if that behavior involved hurting themselves." Now doesn't that sound familiar?
*Note - because I loved it and I'm impatient I'll share the translations for that particular scene in LN 12 in the comments section. One is translated from the Spanish version, while the other is translated from the Korean version. I got all of this from facebook. I'm quite interested to see how it'll come out in the English version.
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kittenintheden · 1 year ago
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Since I adore the way you write I was thinking this might be up your alley:
Tav/named Tav or Ori (years after the Netherbrain or some such) challenging Astarion that they can make him cum with kisses alone. He's blindfolded and he cannot touch himself 👀
And maaaayyybee just to make it harder: pointy ears are off limits.
Well. How could I say no?
Rating: E Pairing: Astarion x AFAB F!Tav (3rd person) Word Count: 1.7k Content: 18+, established relationship, sexy kissing, sexually explicit talk, teasing, orgasm delay, analingus
***
They love to kiss.
A few years have passed, the greatest of their heroics nowhere near forgotten but just a bit distant. They've been together through it all and beyond. They've more adventures under their belts, more friends than they know what to do with, and memories enough to bring more joy than sorrow most days.
As they recline in one of their favorite armchairs, her draped across his lap crosswise with her arms wrapped around his neck, Astarion doesn't kiss her like the first time. That was stilted, acted, hollow. No, he kisses her like the first time he realized this was... something.
He remembers that kiss well. Softer, opening. The loosening of lip and tongue to let someone in. She meets him instantly, as she always has. Always up for anything if it involves him. It has the same effect on him now that it did then.
Astarion groans as he breaks their kiss, rolling his forehead against hers. "Gods, Tav, how do you do it? Sometimes, I think I could come from your kisses alone."
Her grin goes wide against his lips. "Is that a challenge?"
His eyelids feel heavy as he blinks them open to look at her. With effort, he raises an eyebrow. "Would love to see you try."
"Oh, you..." She leans in close and curls out her tongue to just barely touch his bottom lip before she sits back again. "... asked for it."
"Literally did, yes," he says. She pushes up to standing and gives him a gentle shove so he takes her place draped across the chair, legs hanging over one side and his head cushioned on the other. He folds his hands across his torso and smirks at her.
Tav matches his smarmy look as she reaches to her hips to untie the sash she has tied across them. She takes the cloth and begins folding it over itself before she says, "I don't think you're going to see me try, though." She winks and comes closer.
"Cheeky," he teases as she places the cloth over his eyes and moves around to tie it behind his head. "Fine. I get to lay ground rules, as well."
"Go ahead," she says as she gets the blindfold in place, amusement in her voice.
Astarion raises a finger in the air. "No ears. My ears are off limits."
She drops her hands with a huff. "What for?"
"You know exactly what for, you cheat," he says, mockingly shaking his raised finger as if scolding her. "This is kisses only. Kisses from your mouth."
He hears her tutting above him. "Tongue? Teeth?" she asks.
"Only as much as would reasonably be expected during an intimate but not... aggressive moment," he says. "No sucking."
"Hm," she hums. "I'll work with it. Now, my rules: no touching."
"What?" he huffs through his laugh.
She boops his nose. "No touching me, and no touching yourself. I'm steering, not you. Dear."
"Feisty tonight," he purrs. "I'll allow it. Because it's hot, mostly."
She chuckles as she pushes off the chair and takes a step back from the sound of it. "Challenge accepted. Clothes off."
He turns his head in her direction. "Why don't you do it?"
There's a pause, then she clears her throat and says "uh-uh" and he realizes she must have shook her head and then realized he can't see her. He huffs a laugh.
"I'm only allowed to kiss," she says. "You know I'm skilled, but undoing buttons and hooks via kiss is beyond even me."
"Oh, all right," he lilts through his grin as he begins to undo his buttons. "If you insist."
"This as much as you'll get to touch yourself for a bit, so enjoy it while you can," she says. She's closer now. Kneeling near his head by the sound of it.
He enjoys it. He enjoys it very much, teasing her mercilessly by plucking each button with intentional slowness, sliding his clothing off his skin bit by bit. Though he can't see her, he can hear her pulse quicken, smell the stirrings of her arousal. It's giving her a head start, he knows, but he can't help his body reacting to it.
She notices. "I haven't even touched you yet and you're already half-hard. The odds look to be in my favor."
"Long way to go before you can gl-" he starts, but he's cut off as he feels the weight of her hands on the arm of the chair by either side of his head and her mouth is on his. His last words melt into a pleased hum.
It's a sweet kiss. Tender, loving. Exactly the way she kisses him when she wants him to know he's precious to her, safe with her. It's a lover's sigh swirling down the length of his spine and he blooms instantly, just like she certainly knew he would. He tilts his chin up toward her, trying to get closer. More.
Tav lets him take comfort of her. Take love, take care. When he cracks open from it, when his lips fall open and pliant, she teases them open further with gentle laps from the tip of her tongue. They meet, warm and wet, tasting of one another.
He nearly catches her about to suck one of his lips but she stops herself, her mouth flickering into a quick smile before she gives him a light nip instead. It sends a shiver straight down the line between his abdominals and he feels his cock go fully hard and aching.
Astarion presses his hips deeper into the chair and arches his chest up, a low noise in his throat. He makes his hands into fists and his sides and feels Tav reach for the hand nearest her. She sits up and he lets her lift his hand to her face, gently loosening it until she can press her lips to the pad of one of his fingers. It's a relatively innocent gesture, which makes his soft moan sound all the more debauched in the quiet of the room. He bites his lip and turns his face away from her, desperate to pretend she's not having the effect she is as she presses kisses to each of his fingers, then his palm, then the inside of his wrist.
Then her tongue is warm and gentle against the thin skin of his wrist and his cock twitches hard. There's the smallest bit of tightening and he feels cool air more prominently against his skin. He realizes it's because he's leaking, the head of him going slightly damp.
"Ah ha, ha," he laughs breathily. "That's... made your point, I think."
She giggles and puts his hand back down. He feels her body heat as she leans over him. "I don't think it has, love."
"Oh, oh.... kay..." he manages before her lips land beside his windpipe and he instinctively bares his whole throat to her, head tilted back over the arm of the chair.
Tav giggles against his skin as she kisses down the length of his neck and back up again, paying special attention to the place where his pulse point would be if he had a pulse. He nearly gets it together enough to scold her for straying so close to his ear when she kisses down once more and continues over his collarbones, then between his pectorals.
Her mouth presses and lifts down, down, following the line of his abdomen all the way. She's always careful to keep her arms on either side of him, dutifully not touching in any way that could be considered cheating. Speaking of cheating, she's getting dangerously close to...
But she veers to the side, instead placing another open-mouthed kiss over his hip bone. Astarion rolls into it with a sigh, his neglected cock seeking stimulation of any kind. He's so achingly hard and sensitive that he's nearly to the point of mindlessly attempting to rut whatever's closest.
Tav's laughter ghosts her hot breath over the crease of his thighs. Her mouth leaves him and he bites down hard on the whine that tries to escape him. He can hear her breathing hard around her words.
"Lift up a bit more for me?" she says.
With a groan, he does so, lifting himself so his hips are angled better for her. He's at the point of doing whatever she asks because she's a balm, she's soothing relief and rolling pleasure. Just barely, he manages to say, "Kisses only."
"Yes, dear," she says as she uses the softest possible nudge to get him in place.
Her mouth is back at the crease of his thigh, then the other side, gentle kisses up and down, and it is so sweet but he's losing his mind, he needs more, always more.
Tav's parted lips are soft against the root of his cock and his balls pull in tighter to him. Close, but not quite there. Not yet.
"Darling, I... I can't take... please," he breathes. "I'm so close, please."
She kisses the base once more and moves up higher, just a breath, and he preemptively smiles, waiting for her to take him in her mouth, give him his final end, relieve the ache. But she doesn't keep going up.
Tav goes down.
Just as Astarion realizes what she's about to do, she does it. A warm, teasing, slow open-mouthed kiss to his arsehole, followed by circle, and circle, and circle, and-
The blackness behind his blindfold whites out as his body rolls through its orgasm, his spend spilling from him in bursts as he shivers through it. His groan stutters out of him in pieces.
When he can move his arms again, he raises a heavy hand to pull the blindfold off his head and glares down the length of his mussed body at his partner, who leans on one hand and grins up at him from between his legs.
"That was definitely cheating," he pants.
She shrugs. "You said ears were off limits. You didn't say anything about arse."
"You're... going to get it... later." He flops back onto the chair and goes boneless. "Once my limbs are answering requests from my brain again."
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applepi0nes · 2 months ago
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Becky's older sibling joins the mission? Pt. 2
︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Part 1
GN!reader X Demetrius Desmond (a bit aged up)
SFW (one mention of something being meant in non sexual way)
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This part is mostly gonna be about headcanons. (Can be read separately)
A/n: Tysm for all the likes on my last post, i geniuly wasn't expecting this much? (Yes I feel like it's a lot) I promise to continue running this Demetrius agenda till my friend starts like him instead of hating on him🙏🦈
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▪︎ The first thing I need to mention is that getting an actual date with my guy will be harder than actually asking him out.
▪︎ Starting with the presence of his family title and position. For your both safety measures going actually OUT on a date will be nonexistent or very very rare.
▪︎ The second one is that Demetrius doesn't have any interests outside of studying and succeeding as his father's son.
▪︎ Which also gets us to the point that he dates to marry his s/o since he doesn't seem any appeal or reason in dating for any other reason.
▪︎ Now we're finally getting to the actual reason why would he want to date someone. First, you fit his imagination of the future wife he has expectations about.
▪︎ Second, you peek his interest or he is able to actually understand you. It was mentioned few times that Demetrius doesn't understand other people and his mind is blank (I don't wanna spoiler why so if yk yk).
▪︎ Another thing i wanna consider is that if you get to him very close from the start he might not like it and eventually get scared since he doesn't know things like this which is after math of his family relationships.
▪︎ I can see him actually being relaxed and open with his s/o after some time, but it might have to take a lot of time and patience. Definitely just hanging out in his room or somewhere outside in nature like a picnics on fields.
▪︎Now i FINALLY got to my original scenario of your first and second date, because yours first date was definitely in his room. And not in any weird or sexual way, he cannot really go outside and he spends a lot of time in his room.
▪︎ The start of your date was kinda awkward, especially if you expected you two going somewhere out and Demetrius geniuly doesn't know how to do anything beside what he was teached. Which consists of hard work, studying, some social etiquette and that might be all. He hardly had any hobbies since it only worked as an distraction. (For some reason i can see him playing GOLF haha).
After one sided conversation with Demetrius you had quite mixed feelings, but the strongest one you could pinpoint were definitely embarrassment and disappointment. With the thoughts of burying yourself in a hole you plopped on your date's bed and closed your eyes.
You weren't sure how many time passed from the moment you closed your eyes, few minutes or an hour? Unfortunately or fortunately the mattress shifting and dipping made it's way as an reminder of the situation you are in.
"I don't think I really understand why you're laying on my bed with your eyelids closed in a broad daylight."
So now you had Demetrius laying next to you, a good or a bad thing? Not sure.
"Then why are you doing the same?"
"Well maybe if i will copy your movements, i might find or feel the reason of your doings..."
▪︎ Congratulations, Demetrius actually cares about this realitionship even if it might be impossible to notice sometimes.
▪︎ My own little personal headcanon is that Demetrius would like you to read out loud to him or the other way, him to you. Your voice is definitely soothing no matter if it's more on the higher or deeper level, because anything sounds better than his parents tones of voice.
▪︎ It doesn't even have to be anything meaningful, just read out to him while he's next to you or eventually laying his head in your lap and the world and responsibilities doesn't exist to him anymore.
▪︎ Now the second day is definitely you dragged him outside on some field or forest or anything in nature for a picnic.
▪︎ From one of the newer chapters we know that Demetrius doesn't mess with his food and if he eats then there will be no crumbs left. So if you aren't a good cook or even bought something from a convenience store, he's eating it all up and you're going home with an lighter basket than before.
▪︎ Dating Demetrius will definitely involve him asking you about school at least once in each conversation which might end up in you being tutored if he has time. (He will tell you to ask the school's tutor the first time you ask him)
▪︎ That brings us to study dates, expect with Demetrius you HAVE TO study and you can't really slack of so chose whatever suits you.
▪︎ Meeting each other's families? Good luck with that one because you will need to be more than ready to meet his family.
▪︎ Meeting your family (the Blackbell's) is definitely the better side. Becky is gonna ask milion questions about your realitionship and later report back to Anya with all the details.
▪︎ There is shown a bit about Becky's father and his kind of a... too big clinging to their realitionship so i can see him being very protective, but secretly proud for you bagging the Desmonds oldest son.
▪︎ Now get ready for the final boss, because if you're not second Melinda or someone who won't get into the Desmonds family actual business you are NOT gonna be liked by Donovan.
▪︎ Let's be honest Melinda couldn't care less, she might feel a bit pity for you since she expects you to end up like her.
A/n:(It's not oficial, but as a person who was forced to go to 8 psychologists as a little kid (I had no idea why I'm here too at that time) she's definitely not okay both because of her fear and because of her post mental illness)
▪︎ Damian either loves you or hates you, nothing in between. He might even get a tad bit jealous since you're getting the attention from his brother he never had.
▪︎ My final headcanon is that even if he didn't love you back you are NOT gonna be cheated on by him. First he geniuly doesn't have time for such a thing and second it's against his morals.
In short, realitionship with Demetrius might be pretty hard to maintain definitely at start. But if he will let you help him and love him you're secured for the life sis.
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Tagged:
@luvsymai
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I'm sorry that this is more headcanons and abit different from my last part, but I'm planning to make another one.
(I'm gonna fix the grammar when I feel better, sorry for the mistakes)
I also got sick (it's literally the last week of this semester for me) so if anyone has requests or any ideas feel free to share with me, hope you enjoyed my writing today. 💕🦈
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deceitfuldevout · 1 year ago
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A Woman Like You
Tommy Shelby x WOC!Reader
Word Count: +1,215
Warning(s): Angst, Sexist remarks, Societal pressure, Sterotypes.
Author's note(s): I've recently been using writing as a form of therapy. This goes to all the ladies that can relate.
You've fallen head over heels for Tommy Shelby, but now you're questioning if his intentions were sincere or not.
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You made the mistake of falling in love. You should've seen the signs sooner. You started working at the Garrison as a bar maid with Grace, eventually moving up to being their sole entertainment. You were an exotic bird who had caught to wandering eyes of drunken Englishmen. Some folks would say you had these men in a trance, with your rare features and seductive mannerisms. Some even say you're a witch. But there was only one person who saw you for you. Tommy Shelby.
It was refreshing, being seen as a soft, delicate thing. His demeanor would shift when talking to you. He's much kinder to you that with any of his men. That was until another, prettier face had caught his eye. You of all people knew the truth: Tommy Shelby would never love you. Instead he'd fallen for your coworker Grace. She's everything you weren't. That may have been the reason why. Of course, you should've seen the signs. How he'd look at her with such tenderness.
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Eventually his entire personality completely changed with you. Perhaps they were his true colors. After her death, things went south. Tommy returned to you, but only for physical intimacy. He was rough, unapologetic, and at time, downright cruel. He hadn't spoke to you like a lady, with basic respect. It almost hurt knowing men will never speak to you with kind remarks. As soon as you found a better option, you let him know right away. When you close the pub for the last time, Tommy was there. It was strange, having an Englishman waste his previous time on foreign blood.
You turn around to find Tommy sitting on a barstool, not paying him mind. Then something strange happened. He isn't usually this tender, not even in private. So why on earth was he telling you to stay? After every humiliating thing he'd put you through. How Tommy would shimmy you off his arm in front of his business associates. It only got worse when he'd flirt with women right in front of you, then ask for a fuck because it was convenient. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, maybe even the hormones that made you tear up with anger. But for some reason, you wanted to let him know he hurt you, "Enough, Tom, you need to stop doing this,"
He tilts his head up, genuinely surprised that you'd spoken up. His eyelids are hooded, "If you've got something to say..." he lights up a cigarette, "...say it now," how predictable. Tommy's cruelty had no limits. You were tired of being his little plaything, "I deserve better than this, better than you," letting him know how you truly felt, "You're fucking selfish, you know that?" tears already streaming down both cheeks, "You could've told me you were seeing other women, Tom," your vision blurs. Tommy objected, "You knew who I was when you met me--"
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"Yeah, yeah I thought I did, until you decided to to make an acceptation with that blonde whore!" you knew what it would take to get his blood boiling. You wanted to hurt him the same way he hurt you, "I've wasted most of my life waiting for you to love me back, I wasted my good years on a man who wouldn't care if I bled out on the floor!" voice now shaking. You were filled with regret, pain, and anger.
He doesn't even know what the weight of his words did to you, "I know how you English men see women like us, we're always sexually desired but never loved, enough for a good fuck but not enough to make a wife," a chuckle escapes your tips at the thought of it. How could he marry someone like you? His name and status that he's worked so hard for would be tainted. Because who could ever love a woman like you? He had the audacity to roll his eyes, "You were entertainment, to bring customers in," someone pretty enough to keep company around.
"Everything, Tom, everything I've been doing, the act, because I am not allowed the luxury of being seen as innocent," after pouring your heart out, he still hadn't believed you, "Don't act like you haven't been seeing other men," he scoffs. You started to laugh at that remark. Had he really been that clueless? Tears stream down both cheeks. You wipe at them, smearing your mascara, "Now that's incredible," a deep grunt is trapped in the back of your throat, "You really think I'm a whore, don't you?" in an almost hushed tone, "Tommy, you were my first and only, do you really not believe me?" nothing felt worse than being betrayed by the one you trust the most, "All I ever wanted was for you to love me," since the beginning you were there. Even when he was mourning Grace you were there to keep him comfort. How foolish of you.
"Now you never told me--"
"I know who you pretend I am, who you want me to be," you roll your eyes, sniffling for a moment, "I'm not like you Tom, I can't pass, I can't change the color of my skin or features-- I will never be the white woman you've always wanted me to be, the kind of woman you'd keep on your arm without feeling embarrassed, why can't you just accept that?" a faint pause, "You told me...you told me she wasn't your type," barely a whisper, "Was everything a lie?" when he doesn't say anything, it was the only answer you needed. At that moment you snapped, "Please! Look at me!" you smack his arm, "Tommy!" when he does you're given only a cold stare.
Of course, it was never going to be someone like you. There are tears brimming your eyes again. It hurts, knowing that you will always be second best. Always an option but never the first, "At first I was confused, your infatuation with Grace didn't make sense, and now I see that it never mattered who she was," your breath hitches for a moment, "You were always going to choose someone like her..." now rambling about the obvious, "Prettier, blonder...whiter," you taunt.
Each word felt like venom on your tongue. You should've been used to the poison by now, "You don't know how long it took for me to trust a man again, after the pain I've been through--women like me, Tom, we don't have pretty blue eyes that get us what we want, not without a price," that remark made your skin crawl, "Always the seductress, never seen as pure," a dark chuckle erupts, taking up all sound from the bar. Tommy only stares back at you, with that same cold expression. You lean against the counter, looking down at the wood before returning to glance at him, "Did you ever love me?"
If there's one thing about Tommy, is that he would never lie to you, "No," a short, simple answer. You give him a soft, faint smile. Saddened by the loss but also relieved that you were free at last, "Thank you," with that you left, never returning to the Garrison again.
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dvchvnde · 13 days ago
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PRAIRIE WOLF | scraps.
—cut from MÔSOWIYÂS
Coyote wakes when he does.
He can hear her slipping out of bed when he makes noise. A cough in the hallway—lungs aching from the buildup of nicotine that he was supposed to quit some three odd years ago; more broken promises, things he doesn't do out of spite. The creak of the floor. Groan of the old pipes when he turns the faucet on, shoving his hands under the cold water and scouring them down his face. Neck.
She moves quietly. Mouse-like. The squeal of the bed frame gives her away. The soft thud of feet on old wood.
He wonders if she even sleeps.
Wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't, he reasons, feeling the tickle against his chest as the droplets run down his body, getting caught in the thick tangle of fur at the base of his throat.
The brief interlude in the truck on the way here, when she curled up into herself, legs drawn close to her chest, arms coiled around them, head lulling on the plastic covering around the window, seemed like an outlier. An anomaly. Even at work, in her pink and brown uniform, her tired eyes would shift his way every so often, weighed down by fatigue. Makeup. Sleepless nights, he thought, and—
Her wrist in a cast. The puffiness of her eye. Eyelids swollen under a thick layer of colour—eye shadow. Blots of red, blood and clots and burst vessels, in the corner of her eye. Trauma. An injury. The split in her brow. Her lip. The ring of red around her nostril.
The rasp in her voice. The swelling node on the side of her neck—the sight of which he's only all-too familiar with. Botched asphyxia. Hands around her throat, squeezing.
Something about the way she'd touch it, that swollen gland and wince, made him realise what was happening. But—
Best thing to do is to leave it well enough alone.
He can't remember the last time he pretended to be a hero. Can't remember the last time he reached out, only to hurt.
Elliot is right, of course. You're just takin’ her in because you feel guilty, man. But think about how many other people saw the same damn thing and didn't say shit. Hell, I didn't even say shit. Guilt. Obligation. The hum under his skin that says do something. Protect. He's always had a soft spot for strays��
And stickin’ your nose where it doesn't belong.
Yeah, he snorts, swiping his hand over his jaw, feeling the uneven growth under his palm. That too.
John's not one for charity, though, and makes quick work of the idea with a shake of his head. Another snort filling the empty bathroom. A man gone mad, maybe. Lost in this tenuous thing that shifts, and changes shape around him by the day. An ugly, broken web. The spider is too old, too tired, to fix it so it dangles there, half in tatters. Catching nothing but pipe dreams. Hope on an exhale, riding the breeze.
That's what this is, he thinks. An exhale. Breathe out. And out. Keep going until your lungs collapse. House of cards.
It's what most of his life has been, hasn't it? Stacks. Paperthin. Held together on prayers and physics. And one of them he truly believes in.
This idea frames him now, too.
She skirts on the edges of his periphery—a ghost in his house that he isn't sure what to do with. How to handle. The idea of taking her in—receptionist, the notion still makes him scoff—was an amalgamation of nostalgia and obligation. And—
Something he'd rather not think about.
Puts it back inside of himself with a grunt, a fist knocking hard against his chest. Right above his heart. Tucked away where it belongs. Untouched. Unnoticed. Collecting dust like the boxes Coyote shifts through when she isn't sitting on the small couch, phone in front of her, waiting for calls that won't come.
It was a little cruel, maybe. Giving her the idea of a distraction. He knows what it's like to be left listless. Working dog without a home, a job. Restless. Cagey. But she hides her unease well enough.
Hides most things well enough.
Feline. Won't show an injury until it's too late, and even then—will curl up in a dark corner and die alone. Stubborn. Prideful. Prey animal unable to show weakness.
The name she takes—Coyote—is fitting for her. Predator, but predated on by bigger hunters. Bears. Wolves. The wrong end of a man's apathy. His cruelty. Mutts. Pests. Starving beasts that struggle to survive on their own. Pack animals. Social beings.
(tricksters, Elliot had said, and John hadn't pressed. Didn't ask for more.)
Poor thing, he remembers Savannah uttering, and finds himself thinking the same when she glances at him if he startles her, if he doesn't make enough noise to let her know he's there. Wide-eyed. Frozen. Silent. Waiting.
She doesn't flinch. Can't. Can't show an iota of weakness. Predator-prey. Instincts gone haywire. It's all wrapped into itself, a ball. Tension in her shoulders. Frozen stiff as she tries to make out what's moving in the dark. Food or foe.
(Typical white man, Elliot jokes. Always gotta go and pet the wildlife, huh? Just don't gut ‘em when you get bit.)
Slanted eyes, heavy with fatigue, stare back at him. Chest bare. He runs a damp hand over his belly, scratching at the fur by his navel. Absent. Lost in muted thoughts.
All about her.
(Stray, Elliot said. Take in another one? Shit, man. What happened to getting a dog?)
A dog adapts easier, he thinks. A warm bed, food. A scratch behind the ear—
It reminds him of the look on her face when she stared down at the burger. Half-hopeful. Sad. Lost in turbulent memories that fractured over her features; shading them in loss. Yearning.
It felt voyeuristic even then. Intrusive. But he couldn't look away from her misery. The shape of it pinching at the corner of her mouth. A heavy, aching thing.
But that's not the only reason he struggled to look away. Why he kept glancing at her while she stole sleep like it was a rare delicacy, snatching it from his hands like a thief in the night.
She's a pretty girl. He'd be a fool to deny himself that truth, but she's—
All teeth. Claws. Hackles raise. Eyes dimmed in distrust, lowered in skepticism. Brow heavy with it. Wary. Watchful. Like a wild animal.
He thinks about her out there, silent and still. Waiting for him to emerge so she can cover her tracks in his own steps. Hiding her scent under his. Wrapped up so tightly inside the brackets of his shadow that he'd forget she was even there.
The reds of her eyes tracing his bulky silhouette through the glass, brow pinched as tight as the corner of her mouth as she glances around for an escape whenever he comes too close.
And as her face swims in his head, he shakes his because maybe she isn't really all that pretty, is she? No. Using that word for her is a disservice. Pretty is soft. It's gentle. And she's anything but that. Prickly. Tense.
She's more like a disaster. A trainwreck. A car crash. Something he can't look away from. The aftermath of a hurricane. Brutal and ugly and gut wrenching.
Raw, is what she is. An open wound. Roadkill. Sad-eyed girl in a trailer park, fingers curled over the chain-fence as she stares him down. Blank. Distrustful. Nothing at all like the women he usually picked up—
And maybe he doesn't know how to deal with someone like her. He'd been expecting tears. Flinches. Sorrow. The most he'd gotten was that moment in the parking lot—her anger. Her resignation.
If she hadn't been pregnant, Coyote would have been gone already. And then—
Adoption.
He breathes in. In. Stares at himself in the mirror, and lets the ache of it cut him in half.
(the agony is a vicious, living thing but it's not nearly half of what he deserves.)
He slips out of the house before she can follow the still-warm footprints he leaves on the wood, pulling the collar of his jacket tighter around him, and tells himself it isn't her he's running from.
—cut from MÎSCACÂKANIS
Elliot grunts, fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle. "Shit," he mutters, clicking his tongue as he glances around. "Think I left the bottle opener in the house. Hang on—"
John doesn't say anything when he rises, slipping into the tangle of trees clustered around the path that breaks off to this little nook from the main house. The fire burns bright enough that he doesn't bother carrying the flashlight with him.
"You'd think that man would learn by now," Savannah hums, her head shaking in his periphery.
He grunts, shrugs. "Leave 'em be. He's doin' his best."
Her lips quirk into soft, secretive smile that gouges an ounce of flesh out his heart. Another pockmark in the thing and it'll be riddled with holes—
"So." She says at length, eyeing him from across the bonfire. Gaze measured. Cool. But that's just how Savannah is. Cool. Distant. Not cold, but—
Still waters, he remembers Elliot saying when they met. When John pulled him aside and asked if she was okay with him being in her house. It hadn't made sense then, and even now he struggles to understand what he meant, but sometimes he thinks he gets it. Understands what Elliot was hinting at all those years ago.
Still waters. "How is your guest?"
Guest. She says the word with the same derision he feels itch inside of his chest.
"Guest, mm?" He pretends to ponder the question while she takes a sip of beer. A smarter woman than them, undoubtedly; or just so attuned to her husband that the idea of leaving the house with an unopened bottle doesn't even cross her mind anymore. And—
"Yep," she pops the p and he swallows down the urge to reach for a cigar.
"Fine," he grunts, fingers tingling. Numb.
"That all? Just fine?"
"Yep." He doesn't. "Just fine."
She leans back, a supine line of ink splashed across the hot pink patio chair, and apprises him under thin, dark brows. Silent. Pensive.
Still waters, he thinks, and snorts.
"She's fine. Eatin'—" his scraps, mostly. Picking at leftovers and weighing the amounts she eats as if she's expecting a bill at the end of her meal.
And that draws him up short. Itches under his skin in a way he hasn't contemplated since hmhe filled the fridge with food Savannah told him to buy. No more fish, you fool, she'd scoffed, and he half expected her to pinch his ear. Fruit. Vegetables. Eggs. Chicken. Only a cup of coffee—something Coyote seemed a touch resentful about when she glanced from the pot to him. No beer. Prenatal vitamins.
All untouched unless he eats some first.
"That's a scary look."
"m'jus' thinkin'," he grunts, but relaxes the clench of his jaw for her. Swallows down the anger.
"doin' that a lot lately, haven't you?"
Typical Savannah. "You say that like I don't."
"I haven't seen much of it," she shrugs, eyes glinting like pretty gems over the fire. "Bringin' in a stray, and all—"
He started it, of course. A stray. Has no right to feel any particular way, but it digs at him. A sharp, sudden thing.
"She ain't a stray."
She leans forward, resting her elbows on denim-clad knees. Eyes flint in the smoke. Bottle dangling off the hook of her index finger. "Then what is she, John?"
He can't offer much but the truth, and even that feels tenuous. "I don't know."
"Bloody hell," she mutters, tone dry. Words too clipped. Too sweet to carry the same weight. Her chin cocks to the side, soft. Contemplative. "That's what you guys say, isn't it?"
"Bit more bite to it, love."
For a minute, he thinks she might make a snappy rejoinder. Volley his playful tone back into him—a little barb that'll sting so sweetly in his chest. But she doesn't. Instead she rips the ground from under his feet.
"The baby isn't yours, John."
He swallows, tasting ash. Swallows again. Again. It doesn't wash the bitterness away, and when he speaks, his voice is cinder. Soot scraped off metal.
"I know."
"It's not your responsibility," her thin brow arches. The bottle wobbles. "Or your problem."
He glares into the flames, unable to meet her placid stare. He knows. Has known it since the beginning when her hand curled over her lower belly and she looked like she was going to be sick—
"Yeah."
"You're a good man, John—" the scoff he lets out is draped in a thick layer of contempt. Of things he can't put into words. Hands dunked into a putrid well. Rotten tissue and regrets. Shame. "I think you're a good man," she amends, but it does little to wash the muck from his skin because he doesn't really believe her.
"You're a poor judge of character, then."
"She's not wrong."
Elliot's voice floats from the dark. The clink of metal on glass. The scuff of boots on gravel. John doesn't know how long he's been standing there, but when he emerges from the trees, the look on his face is even. Hard.
In many ways, he considers Elliot to be as close to him as a brother. Whatever they have between them is deeper than friendship, deeper than kin. An innate understanding of just what makes each other tick. He pulled him from a litany of nights hunched over the rotting wood of a bar, drinking himself into a furious stupor, and throwing himself at anyone, anything, that looked at him too long.
Elliot included. Slamming him against the brick when he'd offered his hand to help him up. Stumbling in the dark after the bartender threw him out on his ass, spitting on the pavement beside his bloodied, swollen hand. Fuckin' drunk. Don't come back.
He stepped up, hands in his pocket. Eyes kind, offering help. And John had him pressed against the wall, forearm lodged against his throat in repayment. Snarling at him like a mad dog.
(an angry fuckin' bear, Elliot had laughed, months later. Shit, man, thought you were gonna rip my throat out.)
He might still be at the bottom of that bottle, snarling at ghosts, if it wasn't for Elliot.
But right now, Elliot looks like a stranger to him.
It slices deep. Even more so when he slides himself between John and Savannah, terse, as he says:
"Helpin' her ain't gonna bring back—"
He can't. Not now. Maybe not ever—
"I know."
Elliot hands him a bundle of meat, eyes warm despite the tension that simmers in the background. A low grade fever. But he shouldn't be surprised.
He's always been pyretic, hasn't he?
A tinderbox in the shape of a man.
Whatever Elliot sees in his expression, it makes his mouth pull to the side. The burgeoning crest of a smile. Easy as breathing. All forgotten. Forgiven.
Too quick, John wants to say. Lemme have it a bit longer.
But Elliot isn't that kind of man.
"Here you are," he murmurs, low and even. "Cut 'er up myself. The rest of what we caught today will be fixed up in a few days. I'll call ya when it's ready."
Savannah moves closer to him, drawn back into the fold by the steady, artless inflection nestled warmly inside Elliot's tone.
Her husband is too nice, she says sometimes, and even though it's spoken like a joke, drenched in exasperation, he knows that she hates it more than she'll ever let on. The bold truth of it sits cradled in her brow as she flicks her dark eyes between them, catching some unseen tether he's not privy to. The same cord, the same wire, she saw before that made her relax in his presence after a few day of stiff, unwelcoming silence after her husband dragged a strange, drunk man to their house, offering a reluctant click of her tongue. A word he can't remember, can't even begin to pronounce, rolling off of her full, cherrywood lips like a fond curse to the heavens above.
Here, she'd said, and offered him a glass of water. Beneath the veneer of friendliness, her eyes burned. Hurt him and you're dead.
Oblivious to their discord, the slight tip of Elliot's mouth lifts into a full, crooked grin. "Next time, you should bring Coyote around. Might like to get outta that old, stuffy cabin of yours."
Savannah snorts. "Elliot—"
John can't let the picture of it take shape. Grow roots. He cuts it off before it can sting. Burrow deep.
"We'll see."
He's not even entirely sure she'll still be there when he gets home.
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the-nosy-neighbor · 8 months ago
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Sally's Pedrolino (part 3 of pedrolino theory)
First of all, Sally is dressed as Pierrot, not Pedrolino. (See the other pedrolino posts for the reasons and a history of the character)
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Cone hat, ruff, big fluffy button detail. Her hat and the makeup and ruff are all traditional Pierrot costuming. It’s interesting that she chose the costume of a character that is closely associated with the moon, when she is supposed to be either a star, descended from a star, or a fallen star.
It appears that I’m not the first to wonder about Sally’s link to Pedrolino:
https://thecolourfulkingdom.tumblr.com/post/731153175684546560/importance-of-pedrolino
I really like that detail about there being “9 visible neighbors.” That might shoot a hole in my tower as a character theory. However, Colorful Kingdom does mention that same moon imagery that you find with Sally, something I have discussed before:
There is plenty here to be making a case that Something about Sally’s character is related more specifically to the moon. The images of Sally with one eye closed really makes me think that there is a duality to Sally during day/night. Part of the reason is the sun/moon on the door, but is also because of the clock concept art, dividing the clock into day and night involving open and shut eyes and different colored eyelids.
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In the HH book/record, Sally introduces the concept of what happens at night in the neighborhood.
“It is looking for neighbors who are outside out past the daytime to gobble them up whole. That is why so few live here.
It moves through the streets at night, but it doesn't break into homes. However, on rare instances, it will find itself with an appetite, but unsatisfied by its aimless wandering. Even the occasional, unfortunate insect that has crossed its path is not enough.
Those who have lived through the night say it isn't quiet about it either. They always say you can hear when it gets closer to you. Do you know what sound it makes? I hear it every night. You can hear it too, if you listen. Especially if you wait next to your window.
First, there's rustling in the bushes. Then, the scratching on the pavement, on the walls as it crawls up. Finally, if you're quiet, you can hear its guttural sound.”
So, an actual creepy story where we learn that Sally has created this scary story for the neighbors, or an actual creepy thing that happens at night. It could potentially be a story meant to keep the neighbors inside, but for what reason? This could also be an attempt to explain missing neighbors or why the neighborhood is so small.
In my post about clocks, I go into this in more detail, but there is a definite dichotomy between the ideas of sun/star and moon, and the only timepiece to survive, Eddie’s watch, is clearly delineated between day and night.
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This makes me think that there is something out there at night. I’ve also discussed in that post hints that we have gotten that there are people missing from the neighborhood:
• Where is Mama Beagle? (I know we saw her for Homewarming, but I’m not sure if that is current)
• Where are Julie’s siblings? They were important enough to have their own art in a book.
• “Nine visible neighbors” So are they invisible or no longer with us?
• Sunny was an original character and is no longer in the group. Perhaps we lost Sunny in an in-universe way, as opposed to written out.• Sally’s home and early buttons reference a sun and a moon
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• This image has those buttons I was talking about.
This feels so much like Sally pointing directly at it and telling us that we are missing what happens at night. She really identifies the night beast’s actions and feelings too.
Have we seen anything that brings attention to the time and going home?
New idea, in terms of Eddie. “9 visible neighbors” could also lead to the idea that some are buried.
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This picture is something I’ve shared before:
And this image has both Eddie and Sally. Hmm. Anyway, this is the item that is labeled what looks like “D” but with other letters mashed on top of it. There was obviously something missing here, so playing around, I was able to find this image. At first, I was convinced that this was some kind of Moonheaded man, the waxing gibbous type.
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Now, though, I’m more of the mind that this is Sunny. Sally replaced Sunny, and Sunny is blue/teal. She is called a star, but I think her look is much more like how children draw the sun (which is a star).
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He feels too bright to be the moon, and also, too green to be considered blue.
Also, the moon does not produce light. It is reflected sunlight. https://science.nasa.gov/moon/moonlight/ That makes it even more interesting to think that Sally is both, because she is producing the light, but it is also reflecting in another character that is connected with the moon?
What we know:
• Sally chose Pedrolino as a costume, despite Harlequinn (Arleccino) being the much more recognizeable character
(and I think you could argue the more fun, as Harlequin usually comes out on top and doesn't have the seriousness that Pedrolino does.)
Sally chose to wear a costume that belongs to a later iteration of the character. Either Sally is not as knowledgeable as she seems, or there is another reason for this. (Though Eddie recognizes it as Pedrolino, not Pierrot, from his book.)
I think when considering this difference, the author's/team's possible motivations have/has to be important.
• Pierrot is associated with the moon, specifically responding to the changes to the moon with changes in behavior
• Pierrot is focused on love, and the expression of the moon’s influence can be mental illness, but could also be a lovey dovey dopey experience (the word lunacy/lunatic comes from the belief that changes in the moon could make someone act insane)
• Sally has definite associations with the moon, with repeated symbols telling us that she is associated with the sun and the moon.
• The moon’s light is reflected from the sun
• Not discussed, but in pre-website lore, Poppy and Sally are an item.
• Sally is a singer, so are later versions of Pierrot
There is a female version of Pierrot, Pierrette. As little as most people know about this thing, Pierrette would be as good a character to choose as anyone.
• Pierrot is commonly known from the operatic (style?) performance, Pierrot Lunaire, which is a kind of anthology of music from the 1900’s. There may also be a separate opera, as you do see Pierrot as a role that a character plays in the Marx Brothers’ film, A Night at the Opera.
I think it is telling that Sally chose Pedrolino as opposed to Pierrot. She is dressed in a more classic Pierrot costume, but doesn’t have the lute and is not doing any kind of mime. You would expect Sally to get those details right, as a show offy theatre person (takes one to know one).
And why is Eddie the only other person to know what this is? He said he was reading about it in the post office. The only person we have seen with books (I think) is Frank. So does Eddie have book, did he get it from Frank. If so, where does Frank get his books? I think all of Franks books we have seen are about bugs. Is it a magical thinking kind of thing, or does Eddie bring books from our reality? Eddie delivers shipments to Howdy that we have seen, and Barnaby gets mail from outside the neighborhood, so are those from here or is it from some fictional location there?
All this to say, I do think that we can establish that this is giving us a strong hint about Sally's association with the moon and a potential importance of the day/night split and the nature of the neighborhood.
I am great at writing history, but less great at making the connections. I think there is still too much missing for me to make a reasonable guess as to what Sally's true nature is, but I definitely think that Sally's moon will make an appearance at some point and help us to understand what is happening in the neighborhood. I am confident that the moon will appear.
Since it has been useful to this point, a few notes from tv tropes.
God of the Moon--
Thus, fiction and mythology alike often personify it or associate it with a patron deity. Mirroring the moon's nature as a luminous body in a time of darkness, lunar deities can have complex relationships with the night and dark forces. On one hand, they may themselves be associated with darkness, the nighttime hours, and the things that dwell within them. On the other, they may instead be portrayed as standing against these things, providing safety and illumination during an otherwise dark and terrifying time and warding away the terrible things that lurk during the dark hours.
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(required by law)
In personality, lunar deities are often portrayed as mercurial, changeable, and shifting, mirroring the constantly changing face of the moon itself. They also tend to be associated with cycles, such as the lunar phases and the tides. They may also have ties to madness, illusions, and mystery.
Under "Lunacy"
The Moon does things to people. Makes women crazy, drives the lunatics wild, or maybe is the external power source for some supernatural powers. The full Moon might bring out the monster in someone, or a new Moon may bring the human out of a monster. It may be tied to illusions, metamorphoses and inconstancy, mirroring the Moon's constantly cycling phases. In general, the Moon is often a catalyst in magical things.
"Night and Day Duo"
The elemental forces of day and night have always been considered polar opposites. The day, ruled by the sun, is bright and inviting. The night, ruled by the moon, is dark and often considered mysterious. It's no surprise that when two characters have abilities or traits based on these forces, they form a duo of Foils.
Despite their inherent differences, these characters usually form a team rather than fight in opposition. After all, keeping the balance is necessary in works that believe in The Sacred Darkness and Dark Is Not Evil. As such, this duo typically works together, even if it's just an Enemy Mine.
Share ideas about Sally and Pedrolino with me, and I'll update as ideas come in. I say Sally is Pierrot and Pedrolino is just a red herring to delay her association with the moon.
I might look at some other interactions between Sally and Eddie, as they seem to have a bit more to dig through.
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illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 months ago
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Snuggling with Their S.O. (BAU Headcanons)
HUGE s/o to @ithebookhoarder for the format/inspo on these! I ✨love✨ your HCs!
*Also, PS, this lil exercise has made me abundantly aware that I am super super gay. Like, I had a hard time writing the men because imagining myself/reader snuggling with a man was so weird to me. Sorry, men of the BAU (and men in general)! I'm sure you are great, you're just not for me! So that being said, I want to clarify that I still don't write for the Criminal Minds men. I'd only do them for HCs. - love illdowhatiwantthanks (and what I want is to not write men x reader)
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Aaron Hotchner
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Surprisingly gentle, as if he's afraid you might break
Very soft, a side of him that not many people get to see (and even you don't get to see it that often)
Hands everywhere, not even necessarily in a sexual way, he just can't keep his hands off you
He gets a lil shy and sometimes has a hard time making eye contact
Lowkey obsessed with the smell of your conditioner and loves to bury his face in your neck
Big spoon, always
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David Rossi
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Will tickle you until you're practically begging for him to stop
Playful, loves to make you laugh
Plays with your fingers, soft touches that make you shiver
I mean the man is a writer, will whisper either the dirtiest or the sweetest things you've ever heard into your ear depending on the mood
Insomniac, but doesn't even care because he loves to watch you sleep
Big spoon 85% of the time, except after one of his nightmares about the Galen parents' murder
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Derek Morgan
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Soft, but somehow sensual and passionate at the same time
Will snuggle with you just to snuggle, but also is never mad if it leads to more...
Likes to keep his eyes closed and just feel you
Traces every part of you like he's drawing a map in his mind–curves, freckles, ribcage, shoulder blades, all of it
Prefers snuggling sans clothing–not for sexual reasons necessarily, just because he likes the feeling of skin-to-skin contact
Prefers face-to-face to spooning
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Emily Prentiss
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Snuggles hard, as in deep pressure, as in holding you very tight, as in wants to be as close to you as humanly possible
Loves to tuck your head in the crook of her neck
Never not playing with your hair
Seriously has a gorilla death grip on you, good luck if you need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night
Will kiss your neck whenever she can't resist–which is always
Big spoon always because she likes to make you feel safe (and she likes to feel that you feel safe with her)
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Jennifer Jareau
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Gentle and very sweet, a part of herself she doesn't get to show at work
Lots of very cute, very innocent kisses all over your face–forehead, cheek, eyelids, tip of your nose
Stares at you so long it makes you blush
Not usually very forthcoming with "I love yous" but will say it again and again while snuggling
Prefers face-to-face so she can watch you
But will want to spoon after a hard case–if it was one where she was scared for you (usually physically similar victims) she'll want to be the big spoon, if it was one where she was scared she'll be the little spoon
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Penelope Garcia
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Worships the actual ground you walk on, will make you feel absolutely adored
Makes sure you have everything you need to be comfy–weighted blanket, favorite pillow, stuffies or security blanket, white noise if you need it
Will hold you, of course she will and she will love it, but her favorite is when you hold her
Will tell you the sweetest, randomest, dorkiest things while you're snuggling
Feels almost like falling asleep and into a really good dream when she snuggles into you
If you have any pets, they are 100% invited to snuggle, too
Prefers face-to-face snuggling or little spoon, but if you've had a bad day she will not hesitate to scoop you up
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Spencer Reid
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Very, very shy at first, like he's trying so hard to be respectful that he lays there like a plank of wood
Makes eye contact only to look away and blush beet red
Plants small kisses on your shoulders every few minutes
Likes to hold your hands and play with your fingers
Foreheads pressed together while he tells you about his latest hyperfixation (it becomes his favorite part of the day)
Will always, always take care of you and hold you when you are having a hard day but secretly loves being the little spoon best
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fungalittlefreak · 1 month ago
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i will take anything pls morro oneshot or drabble or headcanons pretty please with a cherry on top
i am currently working on a oneshot for ao3 so definitely look forward to that whenever i post it !! for now i'll give a short drabble in the style of my rise ones because I Am Thinking About Him. Always. especially now since i got the new morro minifig and it's hard not to put him in my mouth /j
minors dni !! adults, reblogs are highly appreciated !!
warnings: i'm unsure i haven't written a drabble for a while. almost everything i write should come with a warning that it's not Vanilla even if it seems to be (this includes obsessive/possessive tendencies because those are usually not Healthy or The Norm). uhhh i did not reread this and make revisions/edits before posting so i'm really sorry if this is incoherent/bad
attention.
it's hard to see you leave for work every day.
it's the same routine. you wake up early, you prepare breakfast for him, you take something on the go for yourself, then he waits, and waits, and waits. that is, until you come back home and rest in his arms again. morro likes it when you come back to him. a little bit more than he'd ever admit. you know it's hard for him to tell you he loves you. he wants you. he needs you. you're the only thing that could help him adjust to being alive again because you make him feel alive.
so whenever it's days like these, your days off, he's just a bit more clingy than usual. they're days where he can have you all to himself. days where your attention is solely on him. and he loves it so much. when you could cook breakfast at a reasonable time and he could hold you as you flip his pancakes. when you could lounge around in his clothes and play video games with him.
it's hard not to touch you, actually. he can't keep his hands to himself, pinning you underneath him on the couch and lifting your shirt. you let his hands slip underneath his shorts that you're wearing, and he shivers at the contact as if you're the one initiating.
you're a slut.
he doesn't know how to feel about that. on one hand he absolutely hates being degraded, but he knows you don't mean it. and yeah, maybe he is a slut, but only for you.
you know those tattoos and that belly piercing make you look like a whore, morro.
oh. right. the cybersigil design he has lined up with his v-line and that little stud on his navel. he really likes the attention you give him for those, even if it's a bit degrading and mean. but you're always so nice to him, even when you're nagging and being annoying. your hands slip under his pajama pants and he holds his breath as you undress him, then undress yourself. and you're always so pretty. and you're always a blank canvas. and you're always so ready for him to kiss, bite, and taste you.
so he gives you his attention.
he kisses down your neck and bites your skin, pulls your hair, holds you close. and you always have something smart to say, only for him to shut you up with a kiss or a thrust of his hips. he pulls his shorts off of you and you lay on the couch, ready to take him, and he wishes he could just keep you like this forever.
he just wants your attention for himself.
and you give him plenty.
when his cock pumps into you and you hold him tight, clawing his back and pulling his hair, he's sure to feel as though he's reached nirvana. you kissing his throat, panting into his ear and saying his name drives him to go as deep as he can. he gets a little dizzy every time, knowing he's making you feel good and hearing, watching, smelling, feeling the results. the way your walls suck him in deep, he almost feels sick at the thought of pulling out, of pulling away from you, of not cumming inside and staying where he belongs.
so he prolongs it every time, just to keep you alert.
morro doesn't let you cum until he hears you sob and feels your nails dig into his skin through his shirt, so when stars implode behind your eyelids and you're hurtling over the edge, he knows that buzzing euphoria will linger, and he gets your attention for the rest of the day, possibly even asking for another round later on. it's so hard to let you go at all, after he cums he cages you in, his hair acting like a curtain as he kisses you again. he stays inside you until he's fully soft, but if you link your legs around his hips, who is he to complain and pull away ?
it's hard to when all your attention is on him.
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tokkiwrites · 1 year ago
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fIRE NECTAR : Qu’est-ce que l’incassable ?
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➛ in which the allure & danger of one man makes you question all but your heart.
ʕ•̫͡•ʔ c.w : 18+ joel miller x afab reader, fem reader, no outbreak au, mob boss joel (kind of), stalking themes, mention of cheating, alcohol, violence, some angst, age gap, mentions of infatuation, p in v sex unprotected, pet names, degradation, f and m receiving, knife play, mentions of blood, mentions of being pure. (the pic doesn't represent readers body, its there just for the aesthetics. lmk if i missed anything) not proofread
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─────
'Perfect is a word lost at the bottom of wine bottles perfect is a foreign word, to me. you and i both have uncountable mistakesㅡ lost wars. i want to be your good, but I dont want to be what im not. I'd surrender my arms, I'd lose all fights.. for you.'
─────
everyone says you're lucky. lucky you have what most only dream ofㅡ You've been with your boyfriend for almost 5 years now. You two met when you were only 19, and he was 20. life has been great. You're even planning on moving in together on your 5th year anniversary, buying a pet, and spending more time with one another. you can't express the happiness you feelㅡ or felt, better said.
it's been six months. six grueling months that have kept you up wondering if this is what you really want, who you really want. it was all so peaceful until it wasn't. until you met him.
enter Joel Miller, the man who beat the shit out af a creep who tried to touch you when you were out with your friends at a club. that happened six months ago. six months ago and a few hours. you'd been lying if you said seeing someone bloodied up because they wanted to protect you didn't pull at your heart.
your encounter with Joel was short and sweet, unfortunately. you told the officers at the scene he was the reason you turned out safe and that you think he's a nice man for that, scrunching up their nose as they tried to make sense of what you just said: Joel Miller a nice man? maybe when alseep, all though even in he sleeps, he's probably dreaming of destroying everything in his way.
Police prefer not to entangle with him. they did it many times, but when he hit 35, doing the same shit they gave upㅡ sort of making a pact for the sake of everyone's well-being. He was a nice man. Losing loved ones and years got to him, the wrong people got to him first, and so he built his own life climbing the steps of crime.
He was a nice man.
You hate it when you do this. You go outside more often than you did 6 months ago to that same spot ㅡ where you first and last saw him. you don't go at night, but after you finish work every day, hoping he's searching for you like you are for him. it's like a fix, and he's the drug, only you had no time to indulge into him.only the image of his bloodied knuckles projecting onto your closed eyelids as you fall asleep next to your boyfriend.
As the neon lights flickered against the rain-soaked streets, you found yourself standing outside the club. Your heart raced as you pushed open the heavy doors, the bass thumping through your veins. "Hey, beautiful," a smooth voice whispered in your ear. You turned to see Joel, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity. "I've been waiting for you."
"I shouldn't be here, Joel," you protested weakly, torn between loyalty to your boyfriend and the magnetic pull of this dangerous man. He chuckled, a shadowed glint in his eyes. "But you couldn't stay away, could you?" You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his gaze like chains around your heart. "I need to leave," you said, but your feet refused to move.
"You just got here, baby." Joel urged, his voice low and persuasive. "Just one drink." Against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding, allowing him to lead you deeper into the pulsating club.
You swallowed hard, the guilt of betraying your boyfriend warring with the intoxicating thrill of being with Joel. "I can't do this," you whispered, but even as the words left your lips, you knew they were a lie. Joel's lips quirked into a knowing smile. " not foolin' anyone, sweetheart," he said, his voice sending shivers through your body.
Before you could respond, the sound of your phone goes off, causing you to wake up. Your eyes shoot open, turning to see if your boyfriend is yet awake. his side is empty, only the wrinkles on the sheets remembering his presence. As you reach for your phone, its vibrant screen illuminates the dimly lit room, casting shadows that dance across the walls. With a delicate touch, you unlock the device, revealing a text from your almost beloved:
The words, though tender, fail to dispel the lingering echoes of Joel's presence in your mind. Your brain flickers back to the dream and the moment you met Joel, its façade a beacon amidst the city's nocturnal.
── had to leave early, sorry for that, babe. Can't wait to see you tonight. Love you ❤️
The memory of Joel's voice, velvety and commanding, resonates in the recesses of your consciousness, a siren's call luring you into the depths of uncertainty. Despite your protestations, the tendrils of temptation coil around your resolve, entwining with the delicate fibers of loyalty that bind you to your partner. With each heartbeat, the dichotomy of emotions swirls within, a tempestuous maelstrom of desire and guilt, desire Joel, and guilt for the betrayal it entails.
And yet, beneath the veneer of steadfast resolve lies a flicker of uncertainty, a gnawing doubt that whispers of the inevitability of succumbing to the intoxicating pull of his magnetism. In the depths of your soul, you grapple with the unsettling truth that the want you feel for Joel might stem from something deeperㅡ it was something carnal. It consumed you for so long.
his gaze, a smoldering ember amidst the darkness, kindles flames of longing that lick at the edges of your conscience. his eyes that cut like knives.
────────
'About time you escaped, imprisoned isn't what I'd imagine you'd want your heart to be written upon.'
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Amidst the throng of pedestrians, a familiar silhouette emergedㅡ him. it felt like seeing an old friend. no, like finding an old toy that brought you joy. only that toy was stolen, which is why you had to hide it; hide it so good you had to forget about it.
With a jolt of recognition, your gaze locked with his, a fleeting moment suspended in the maelstrom of time. 'Will he recognize me?' Joel's eyes, obsidian pools that mirrored the depths of your soul, held a myriad of emotions: recognition, intrigue, and perhaps, a hint of longing. at least you hoped so. wanted so.
With a wistful smile, Joel broke the spell that bound you, his voice a melodic symphony amidst the murmur of the city. "Happy to see you're fine." You returned his smile, a fragile facade that masked the tempest of emotions raging within. "Why wouldn't I be?" you replied, your voice a whisper lost.
"I was honestly thinking something might have happened after that night...seeing that you almost always visit the club." he quirks his eyebrows. "nothing happened." but it did. he ripped the heart out of you and kissed it goodbye all at once, leaving you to deal with it all whilst he carried on with his drug escapades and crime shenanigans. nevertheless, you smile, swallowing back your own thoughts as it seemed.
"I've been following you, y'know?" joel admits.
my, and what a strong grasp he has onto your heart right now.
"You'veㅡ seriously?" why did you sound happy? when joel tells someone this, their first reaction is to go wide-eyed and back out. but it is rare that he feels such a pull towards someone. someone like you. maybe you reminded him of when he was so untaintedㅡ the thought of danger strangling him to the point he couldn't help but give in. "Tell me why."
you've been caught. isn't this what you wanted?
"I- uhm...I don'tㅡ"
"Don't even bother lying. What would an angel like you want from someone-" joel steps closer. "like me." a sense of inevitability washed over you. you were reminded of the immutable truth. The words, uttered with a conviction born of desperation. "It's you that i need." you can't believe your own courage. maybe you were just drunk on his scent.
they slip past your lips like a plea. absolution and complete submission, you surrendered. this was your god, the one you've prayed for all those nights when your boyfriend was fast asleep. it was wrong, but oh, how sweet, like honey wrong is. you weren't scared to kick everything away for a mere second of this. just a touch of his fingertips. that's all. you found solace in that.
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"Do you wanna go back to my place, sugar?"
'Love is an apple, and i am the serpent forcing it down my throat.'
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rough, red, and raw. that's how his kisses were. he made no stop until he had you splayed over his bed. he was eating you with every stare, like a predator. you needed him to do something, dive into you. it was carnal.
"If you wanna stop, just say so, yeah?" joel causes you to look back up at him. nipping at your lower lip, you spread your legs further apart as to invite him further. "I want you to hurt me, Joel." and how could he refuse you? you looked so pure and beautiful all spread under him, waiting for his command. "that so." and you whimper a pathetic 'mhm'.
"I never made you out to be this kinda girl, all though ㅡ" he retracts, reaching out into his back pocket to take out his switchblade. "I don't mind it." joel chuckles before yanking you up by your hair and pulling you to the ground. "Kneel." he commands. and you obliged, intoxicated from his presence alone. "This what you want? huh?" he asks, traching your neck with the tip of the knife as you shiver. "pathetic slut. forgot you've got a man at home?" he taunts "bet you've been dreamin' bout me stuffing you up with my cock, yeah?"
you nod, eager not to let him slip through your fingers. "Yeah.." he drags the kife down, cutting through your top, knicking your skin and exposing your breasts. the slight pain drowns you as you press your thighs together. "Look at that." he tuts, mocking as he drags the knife over the small cut to gather the blood, bringing it up to your mouth.
"lick" and lick you do, swirling your tongue around the blade, keeping eye contact as the metal aroma washed over your tastebuds. "atta girl. good little slut." joel chuckles as he proceeds to unbuckle his pants. "now imma let you suck my cock, butㅡ" after hes done freeing his shaft from his briefs he holds the knife up to the side of your neck. "if you stop I'll make sure you won't like it."
you weren't scared at all. maybe it was from all of the time you spent yearning that totally disrupted your sense of fearㅡ You wanted to make him proud and not regret what he'd done until now.
so you take his member into your mouth, slowly sucking on the tip before trying to take more. you lied if you said he wasn't huge, your jaw already hurting once you made it halfway. the knife was still digging at your skin, his eyes fixed on your every move. moving you head up and down, you felt as joels muscles tensed, his breath growing shallow as he snaked his free hand around your hair again.
"Just like that. yeah, keep doin' that.." tears well up in your eyes as your core tightness, still not dwelling on you that you're on your knees, sucking Joels dick whilst he holds you at knifepoint. "ok, thats enough, angel-baby." he pushes you back, motioning you back onto the bed. " all fours."
"n-no.." You muster up. "What's that?" joel furrowed his brows. "Not all fours..wanna see your face." You stare up at him, and you swear you saw his gaze softened. "what the fuck are you doin' to me, girl..?" he laughs, pulling you up and placing you on the bed, the sheets enveloping you.
"been dreamin' about this, baby. look at you..." he groans, undressing your delicate skin. "you're a fuckin' dream." he trails kisses from your stomach to your knee and traces his nose back up to your lips before he crashes his onto them.
you cling onto that kiss, it awakes you from the deepest hole on earth, pulls you to the heaven, then plummets you down againㅡ you needed this.
joel breaks from the kiss, sitting like that for a second. he then traces his digits between your folds that dripped with desire. "so wet for me, angel. all f'me.."
"please, mmhg.." whining, you try to rub yourself onto his fingers, but he quickly slaps you again, this time on the side of your thigh. "don't be a greedy whore." he clicks his tongue before leaning down spreading your pussy lips as he does, blowing onto your sensitive clit. you jump and moan in frustration. "i know, baby, i know." he spreads your legs further, finally landing a soft and teasing lick between your folds. it doesn't take long for joel to go at it, sucking and licking at your cunt like theres no tomorrow, your desperate pleads to come only fueling him. "not yet, angel-baby." he gorans, picking himself up.
"please fuck me, Joel." you plead. "needy thing." and with that he lines himself up with your hole and eases in. your whole body vibrates as a sting spreads through you, and you squeeze around Joel. "fuckㅡ so fuckin' tight." he moans before plunging straight into you. your tongue luls out, tears on the brink of your eyes as you cand only squeal out pathetic moans and incoherent blathers. "shitㅡ ! squeezing me so good, baby."
joel fucks into you harder and harder, the bed creaking whilst you let him take over you. he grabs your hips pushing himself even deeper into your cunt, groaning when you arch your back, breasts perking up. "fucking angel. my pure angel." ㅡ you can only moan and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. desperately, you clench around his cock, sending joel into a frenzy.
"gonna come, baby?" he's stern and rough with his request. "hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how long you've waited for this.
"gonna come soㅡ fukin' deep inside of you- shit!" he almost growls, and you not your head dizzy. "p-leasee...insideㅡ!" and you don't wait more than two more seconds as joel spills his warm seed inside, painting every inch of you. he leans down, leaving a tired kiss upon your forehead.
"go ahead, angel-baby." you writhe as the knots in your core begin to untie, shaking under joel whilst he fucks you through it. it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit, digging his nails through your thighs, gritting his teeth and moaning your name.
"thank you."
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'wandering companionless, I've finally found you.'
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⏜⃞♡⠀⠀🐰 hey, guyyyyssss, i honestly dont know what this is. It's kind of shitty but i wanted to try writing something more. i incorporated some verses of poems i wrote, so i hope you enjoyed it!!! love ya
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slamdunk-headcanons · 8 months ago
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You sleep on his chest
3/3 from the "You sleep on his chest" series. part 1/part 2
So, the "Sleep on his chest" series comes to an end (or maybe not?) and I hope you guys had fun with it! Thanks to the anom-chan who sent this amazing headcanon ideia! Comment if you want me to keep this series with more Slam Dunk characters!
Mitsui Hisashi
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You were doing too much. Mitsui knew that. You were helping them study for the tests, so they don't get suspended from the team. And you were helping your teammates to study for the same reason. And still, you were doing your best on the trainings because you were the key player of the women's basketball team of Shohoku.
So it wasn't a surprise for him to see your eyelids closing repeatedly while you struggled to stay awake. It was almost 11 o'clock. Only you two percieved to keep studying at your house. Miyagi, Sakuragi, Rukawa and your teammates all left at least 20 minutes ago.
"Oi, you should go to sleep now", said Mitsui.
"No! We have to finish this chapter today or we won't be able to finish all the test content!", you replied shaking your head effusively.
"You're already sleeping", Mitsui insisted. "I'm leaving now".
"No. I'll finish it". "Fine. So I'll take another cup of coffee for us on the kitchen, ok?" "Ok"
When Mitsui got back, you were already sleeping, your arms serving as a uncomfortable pillow to your head. Mitsui sighed and smiled. He sat again next to you and shook your shoulder gently "Oi, [y/n]-chan, go to bed. I'm leaving" "No" you mumbled turning your head to Mitsui side, but still asleep. "I have to finish this unit." Mitsui kept shaking your shoulders. You tried to push him away a few times, but then, your arms enlaced Mitsui's neck and your head finished lying on his chest.
Mitsui freezed for a few seconds. You were in a deep sleep, probably thinking you were in bed iwth all your big pillows to hug, and he became one of them. After a few seconds, a small smiled curved his lips.
"Why are you so stubborn?", he whispered while taking you in his arms. He took you to the TV room and layed you on the couch. As he doesn't have any blanket to cover you up, he used his own basketball jacket to do it.
You immediatly cuddled in the couch grabbing his jacket and sighed. "Mitsui, you idiot", you whispered. "You have to study so I can keep cheering for you, aho!"
Mitsui giggled and left a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving.
Miyagi Ryota
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The summer training program for the interhigh were reeeeally making you and Ryota tired. He would walk you everyday for the hotel where the women's Shohoku basketball team was staying.
But, on that day, you were so tired that you could barely walk. So Ryota decided to pay a taxi, and insisted to go with you. "But you could go directly to your hotel". "No, [y/n]-chan! I'll accompany you just like everyday." You sighed. "Ok. I won't insist because I'm too tired to fight".
The taxi came, and Miyagi helped you to get into the car holding your hand gently.
On the way, he noticed you head boucing while you struggled to keep awaken. Blushing, he said "I-if you want to, you can take a nap on my shoulder"
You immediatly layed your head on his shoulder without saying a word and Miyagi IS SO SHOOK.
He's extremely cautious when the issue is touching girls, specially you. Every touch is a big event for him, and that one was totally unexpected and unedited.
The taxi accidentally passed through a hole on the street, and you two shook on the back sit. Your head slipped down from his shoulder to his chest.
Miyagi is going to have a heart attack
As you're sleep, when you felt his warm chest, you uncounciously cuddled closer to him;
He's definetly having a heart attack why you could keep sleeping with his heart pounding like that?
When the taxi stopped on your hotel, Miyagi made you sit up really quick and gently before you noticed you slept on his chest.
You rubbed you eyes to see him already off the taxi stretching his hand towards you to help you off the taxi
He shyly said "good night to you" blushing a lot and, even sleepy, you couldn't stop thinking what happened during the taxi ride.
Check out the Masterlist!/ Ask box is open!
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casual-praxis · 3 months ago
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Okay, so I've failed again.. I'm still poking this AU with a stick.
At some point while listening to J-pop at a volume not recommended for my tinnitus, I started to think about spiders, and that made me remember my FS x TftGS Vio wip.
So I started googling spiders, and that made me want to mess with this some more, and well--here we are lmao.
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I like to think this is an in-between form, and Vio's actual demon form is much more eldritch horror and not very humanoid once you get up close.
I don't think I have the art skills to illustrate it, but I imagine he's unnaturally lanky, less skin or human features, more exoskeleton and doll-like joints. He doesn't have chelicerae, but his jaw does unhinge (tho this might change. I'm thinking maybe his ears would just stop being ears and wrap around his head to create chelicerae, since spiders don't have ears. Jaw still unhinges regardless).
If you wanna read more rambling about this design, feel free to peep below the cut. There's a few alternate versions of the drawing as well, since I'm so indecisive with colors lmao.
Rapid-fire details list because I like yapping, go!
+ Both Vio's partial demon form and full form have eight eyes in total. Four on the face, two on either shoulder, one on the chest, and one on his back right at the base of his neck. His main two eyes react like normal (though he can't blink in these forms despite having eyelids). All the others are constantly swiveling around erratically, and usually not in the same directions.
+ "A Violet Spider's Death Bloom" is technically his full name, shortened to Vio for human convenience. Demon's are weird. Most either have regular sounding names, like Jeff, or long ass titles like this. Shadow's isn't much better; Mr "Left Hand of the Shadowed Tyrant".
+ The whole spider theming came about from me associating bow strings with spider thread, so if you were confused, don't worry, it only barely makes sense anyhow. I've since put more thought into it, but I was kinda curious on how far I could push it before people started to think, "wait, this isn't Vio anymore!"
Spiders as a theme is also just something I personally think fits the way I view Vio as a character. When I think of spiders, I think of eyes. When I think of Vio, I also, for a weird reason, think of eyes.
In the manga, the main way I told anyone apart was usually from the eyes, though their tunics helped a lot too. Vio's eyes in particular stood out to me since, when not colored in, they look the most distinct from the others, with the lack of highlight and general abundance of white space.
There's also frequent close up's of his eyes in particular to show when he's emoting (or processing emotions), such as the "oh, Shadow Link" thing or the weird glance he gives Green before fake stabbing him. Just. The whole of chapter 8. Eyes.
Not to mention how often he shoots things there. And how observant he tends to be...it just fits, I think.
His role in this AU is more background character oriented, but he's still always aware of what's going on in town, generally speaking. He has a whole web of connections. Eyes everywhere. He knows of everyone, even if they don't know of him, until it's too late. :)
+ Counting his mechanical spider legs, he's got seven limbs in total. One was lost in the last confrontation Vio and Shadow had before Vio found the town. He often uses the extra appendages to quickly stab enemies before a fight even starts, or to climb up to higher places. The chain portion can alternate in length, becoming however long or short he needs them to be, but the actual leg parts cannot be changed. They do register pain, even if they're metal-like.
+ He's got doll-joints mostly to tie into the inorganic, mechanical vibe. They can be ripped off and reattached with minimal effort. Sometimes, he even does it on purpose to get the upper hand in a confrontation. Scarily enough, his movement speed does not decrease.
+ Like most monsters in the Zelda universe, his weak spot is very obvious and straight forward on how to damage. The gem in his chest cavity is fairly fragile, and directly tied to his soul, but despite this, he still walks around with it on open display. This is partially to lure others into thinking he's an easy target, while also being a bit of a power move.
+ He can make a web-like string from the tips of his fingers, but outside setting traps or eavesdropping via the vibrations, he doesn't utilize this very often. He probably could not make an actual spider's web, sadly.
I have many thoughts about what he gets up to while being a Background Character but I will save those for another time.
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noirfren · 18 days ago
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Ranfren main cast headcanons! (Facial features edition)
Headcanon alert, please don't lose your mind over it I know some are not what canon implies
Randal, I can't tell if he has a fang or not, sometimes his teeth look perfectly straight so maybe it's just him being a weeb and giving himself a fang but I like to believe he naturally has one fang that's a little crooked, it's also prominent and can be seen with his mouth closed.
Negative canthal tilt 100%
Thin short eyebrows, they're there we just have to believe
Loose skin around his eyes, I don't know why everyone has those in my mind
Thin lips, often crusty, hand him some lip palm
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Luther, nose too perfect it's out of balance from the rest of his face, everything is out of balance but his nose sticks out the most
Skin too tight around his eyes, like he intentionally pulled it back
No eyebrows, he doesn't even have the structure for it, as in you can't tell where his brows would be if he had any
His second pair of eyes actually had some thin lashes
Thin lips that are so dry they hurt ro look at
"Flawless" skin yet he still looks old due to odd face structure
Dense, shiny, and very healthy hair (I don't think it's his own)
Can't grow facial hair
Defined thin philtrum
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Nyon
Augahhhh♡ 😫😫😫
Don't even get me STARTED
Long face, butt chin, the skin around his chin is a always a little rough, especially his upper lips
Very thin lips but a little plump, pouty lips THAT I'M GOING TO KISS, very sharp lip corners *melts*
Never smiles with his teeth but when he does 😣😣 crooked teeth, two very prominent fangs, one of them is crooked outwards, gummy smile (blush blush) and he actually has pretty defined long dimples (😫) and wrinkles around his eyes (I will draw it)
Hair is very silky and soft, he cuts his hair like Luther but it never looks the same due to the difference in density, it's thin and often frizzy and static due to rubbing against soft surfaces (carpet, clothes, etc..)
He has a normal person eyes, he's only trying to mimic Luther, he's a little better than nyen at doing it but his eyes still hold shape and he has visible eyelids
Nose as demonstrated bellow 😫😫 I know it's canonically pencil straight but you can never take this away from me
Face very slim it's even slimmer than Luther's
Olive toned skin
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Nyen, thicker eyebrows, black for some reason, and actually has eyelashes, short but thick, he grows facial hair very well in general
Vains pop up when he gets mad very quick
Eyebags all year around
More expressive with his eyes, more lids action going on
Has rougher skin texture, visible pores and pimple scars, but overall has very tight skin
Between everyone in the house he's the most conventionally attractive
Bigger lips, not dry but very crinkled
Big nose, very straight
Wider jaw and chubbier cheeks
Red undertones
Hair is a little wavey, he straightens it everyday to resemble Luther's better, it's thick and dense, any drop of water in the air causes it to frizz like crazy
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Sebastian, diamond shaped eyes male so much sense to me, I think it's the way his eye socket sinks under his lids
Rounder nose, and it's always red especially in the middle
I know he canonically has like 3 but fuck it endless freckles
Eyebags x2
Coils out of shape, he couldn't care to care for them in the current situation
Hair is flat on one side because he naps a lot and has a fixed position of sleeping LSJSKSL..
Thick neck, I imagine he has thicker bones in general
Chubby cheeks because
Wrinkles on his forehead when he frowns
Doesn't grow facial hair, when he does he shaves immediately
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@i-am-a-hot-man here's your yap
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