#he doesn't take off his gloves around people as a rule

[kwillow]

Using my genuine interest in Theo's blood magic gem implantation to see how long I can 'examine' (hold) his hand before he bites me.

Hyden got to do this, although he was 100% genuinely interested in the magic gem implantation and not at all in the hand-holding.

Anyone else though... I doubt Theo would let them get so close a look at his hands, let alone the chance to touch them.

(Art by @chocodile, of course! You should read the prose she wrote to accompany it too, for additional insight.)

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[streetlamp-amber]

the common cold

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 2.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

REQUEST: “hi I love your writing so much. You can totally ignore this but id like to request batmom/batfam where maybe Dick and Jason get sick and batmom takes care of them and then she gets sick and Bruce has to take care of her this can be before or after the baby is born. And b obviously doesn't want to get sick so he wears a mask and gloves when he has to be around her.” NOTES: this is set less than a year after first kicks but you don’t need to read it first to read this one. also this is your reminder that the covid pandemic is not over and to please start wearing a mask again in public spaces to protect yourself and others from catching a very disabling and very deadly virus!!

It all started in Dick’s classroom.

It also didn’t help that a common cold was not considered serious enough for the kids to miss out on school. So, naturally, the virus spread through the students and Dick ended up bringing it back home to the Manor. It didn’t take more than two days for Jason to catch it too.

You refused to send your boys off to school no matter what the rules were. You were still on maternity leave – being Bruce Wayne’s wife had many perks, one of them being a one year long maternity leave with no complaints from your boss and the guarantee that you would have your job back once it’s over – so you spent the entirety of your days nursing your boys back to health. Your four month old baby girl Alice had been moved to Alfred’s wing where he was taking great care of her until the virus was no longer a threat. Bruce, ever so protective of those he loves most, didn’t want to risk the two most vulnerable people in the house to catch the boys’ cold and so you reluctantly agreed that, for the time being, it was better to have your baby quarantined away from you. You still made sure to visit the two every day, once you had showered and changed your clothes, but you couldn't wait for this to be over and have your baby back in your wing of the Manor.

Dick and Jason were two different people when sick. Where your oldest had no problem with remaining in bed, doing nothing but reading or watching television series on the iPad, the other one absolutely hated being confined to his room and being forced to rest.

“But Ma! I’m fine-d!” Jason nasally cried out exasperatedly, all dressed up for school and with his backpack hoisted on his shoulders.

You tried your hardest not to chuckle at the fact this was straight out of an episode of Friends. “When you put a ‘d’ at the end of ‘fine’, you're not fine,” you told your son, leaning on his doorway with your arms crossed over your chest.

“But staying in bed is sooo boring!” He continued complaining. He would've said more but a series of cute little sneezes interrupted him.

“You know, kids usually would kill to have days off from school and here you are, actually wanting to go back to school,” you laughed as you walked in his bedroom and sat down at the foot of his bed.

“I’m missing the big dodgeball tournament,” Jason pouted, crossing his small arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry Jaybird, but you’re in no shape to play dodgeball,” you told him, moving his dark hair away from his forehead and putting the back of your hand against it. “At least you don't seem to have a fever, which is better than your brother.”

Jason deepened his little pout on his lips and you sighed. “Tell you what, I’m gonna go check on Dick and then you and I can play board games once you’re back in bed and dressed in clean pajamas, how's that sound?” You suggested, hoping to lift his mood a little bit.

He reluctantly nodded his head and that was a good enough answer for you.

You left his room and went across the hall to Dick’s bedroom. “Hey bubs, how are you feeling?” You asked him from the door.

Dick looked over at you with his glazed eyes from his iPad and lifted his right arm, making a thumbs up but lowering his hand so that the thumb was laying horizontally in the air, halfway up and halfway down. A pitiful sigh blew out of your lips as you walked in his room and you sat next to where his body was curled in his bed to check his temperature. You handed him the thermometer from his bedside drawer and after holding the stick under his tongue for a few seconds, he gave it back to you.

“Well at least your fever has gone down a little,” you told him as you put back the device on the bedside drawer. “Keep on resting and continue drinking lots of water, I’ll be in Jay’s room trying to keep him occupied until lunch so knock on the wall if you need anything and I’ll be able to hear you,” you said while softly running your fingers in his hair, making him close his eyes as he appreciated the soothing feeling.

“Thanks Mom,” he groggily said and pressed play on whatever show he was watching on his iPad to pass time.

It wasn’t until a week later that the boys had fought off the cold and were good to go back to school, much to your contentment. You loved them with all of your heart, but you missed having your baby girl around you.

You woke up on Saturday, feeling off. You had a pounding headache, your throat was scratchy and your nose was clogged. “No. No, no, no,” you whined nasally. It was established yesterday that Dick and Jason were no longer sick, Alice was supposed to come back in your side of the manor today, but it looked like you had caught the boys’ virus.

A soft knock at your bedroom door drew you out of your sorrow. It wasn’t until your husband, still in his pajamas and holding your daughter in his arms, that you realised his side of the bed was unoccupied. “Someone couldn’t wait to see her Mommy,” he sang, wiggling Alice around in slow movements and making her giggle loudly.

Expecting you to smile and hold out your arms for the baby, Bruce was surprised that you burst out in tears instead.

“Don’t come closer, I caught the boys’ cold,” you hurriedly said before he walked further in your bedroom. You grabbed a tissue from your bedside table and dried your tears then blew your nose.

Bruce’s face morphed into a sad frown. “I’m sorry sweetheart. You just stay in bed, I’ll bring this missy back to Alfred and I’ll take care of you,” your husband told you, taking control of the situation like he so easily did as Batman.

You nodded your head and more tears fell out of your eyes as Bruce left with Alice. You just wanted your daughter by your side and it pained you that not only were you gonna be separated from her for longer, but this time you could not go see her throughout the day like you did for the week prior.

About five minutes later, Bruce was opening the door to your shared bedroom again, this time with an N95 mask wrapped around his head and latex gloves on his hands. Your eyes were round with surprise when Dick and Jason followed behind him, KN95 masks on their faces as they weren’t big fans of the head strap.

“What are you two doing here?” You asked your sons before a short coughing fit rattled you.

“Dad told us you’re sick and we want to help him take care of you like you took care of us,” Dick answered as he stopped next to Bruce at your bedside while Jason climbed on the bed and sat crossed legs next to you.

Tears blurred your vision once again and you grabbed both of your boys’ hands. You wanted to hug them and press kisses all over their heads, to shower them with all the love and affection you held for them, but you settled for hand holding to not reinfect them. “I’m so lucky to have the sweetest, most caring boys in all of Gotham,” you told them, your emotions bleeding through your voice.

Jason couldn’t help himself and hugged you with his small arms wrapped around your middle, nuzzling his head to your body. “Don’t cry Ma,” he said and it took everything in you not to sob at the sound of his small voice.

Jason was a Mama’s boy through and through. You were the first person he warmed up to when he joined your family, you were the only one he listened to whenever he was having a tantrum, you were the one he would wake up in the night to soothe him after he had a nightmare. He hated to see you in pain, he hated being away from you (the thirty hours you spent in labour were Alfred’s thirty longest hours of his life, even as Dick tried to help him entertain Jason while they waited for you at home) and he would burn down anyone who dared make you cry.

“Alright boys, let's give Mom some room so I can get a few tests done and make sure it’s nothing too serious,” Bruce gently ordered your sons, who complied without protest.

“Bruce, it’s just a cold,” you whined at your overprotective husband. “I didn’t protect myself while taking care of the boys and caught their bug, it’s nothing serious.”

“Like you always tell me darling, mieux vaut prévenir que guérir,” Bruce replied and you grumpily huffed, knowing he was right.

“What does that mean?” Jason asked curiously. It fascinated him that both you and Bruce could speak more than just English and he was oh so eager to learn all the languages you spoke.

“It's the french equivalent of better safe than sorry,” your husband explained as he got out a thermometer from the medical bag he brought with him from the Batcave.

Bruce got to work, running down a series of few tests to make sure you really only had a cold, as your sons observed him. You then came to a realisation that made you chuckle, prompting all three boys to look at you with interrogation points in their eyes.

“It’s just funny how, usually, I’m the one with the medical bag, cleaning your bruises and stitching you up after patrol,” you explained and you saw the corners of Bruce’s eyes narrow, knowing there was a small smile behind his N95 mask.

“Well, it's good to get out of the routine every once in a while,” he said as he started putting away all the material he had gotten out of the medical bag, “but let’s not make this a habit.”

You scoffed, or more like managed to scoff as a coughing fit took over your body at the same time. “That’s rich coming from the guy I’ve been stitching up every night for the last ten years.”

Bruce glared at you, unamused by your comment, as the boys giggled behind their masks.

“Mom might be sick but she’s sound enough to still be sassy to Dad,” Dick remarked to his brother.

Your husband rolled his eyes, exasperated, and decided to ignore what had just happened. “You’ve only got a cold, so just drink–”

“Drink lots of water, keep myself warm, chicken broth, chicken broth, chicken broth,” you interrupted him. “I know what to do Bruce, I’m a mother who spent the last week taking care of her sick kids,” you told him, slightly annoyed.

“Except that now I don’t want you to do anything. I’m the one taking care of you darling,” Bruce softly said, not affected by your mood. “I’m gonna go start a pot of chicken broth. Boys, help your mother get comfortable and stack some pillows behind her,” he ordered around your sons as he slipped out of your bedroom, medical bag in hand.

You stayed silent and unmoving for a few seconds, waiting for the creak of the second stair from the top (that you refused to get fixed) under Bruce’s weight, to spring into action. “Dick, I need you to go to Alfred’s wing and ask him to make some chicken broth,” you quickly whispered, making your now thirteen year old pause in his action of retrieving some pillows for you. “I love your dad, but that man can not cook. At all,” you explained. “So I need you to go wash yourself quickly, change your clothes, run to Alfred’s wing and ask him to make some chicken broth that you will bring to me incognito. Capiche?”

Dick nodded his head, taking your request as seriously as a Robin mission.

“Oh and while you’re over there, play a little with your sister, make sure she hasn’t forgotten who you are,” you tried to joke although your heart twisted a little. You really hated flu season and you hated being separated from your daughter even more.

“Don’t worry Mom, I was already planning to,” Dick told you, the corner of his blue eyes narrowing as he smiled behind his mask. “We’ll even facetime you so you can talk to her,” he added as he opened the door.

Your eyes filled with tears, you hadn’t even thought of doing that in the first place. “Thank you bubs,” you smiled tearily at him before he left the room.

“Mama, do you want me to put some of the sticky cream on your chest?” Jason asked you when he judged the stack of pillows behind you was good enough.

“The VapoRub?” You clarified and your son nodded his head. “Yeah, it’ll help clear my airways. Do you know where it is?”

Jason shook his head ‘no’ so you instructed him which drawer in the bathroom he needed to rummage through to find the little jar and he left your room with determination to complete his own mission.

Now that you were alone, you laid down a little lower under the duvet, leaning your head back on the mountain of pillows behind you as you let out an exhausted sigh. You just hoped to get through this cold as fast as possible.

To your surprise, Bruce walking back in your shared bedroom interrupted your little moment.

“Oh darling, don’t cry. What is it?” He asked you in a coo as he came to sit next to you on the edge of the mattress. 

“I’m not crying,” you quickly denied even though you knew your eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“But you were about to,” he countered and you couldn’t argue with that. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be making chicken broth?” You avoided his question with one of your own.

“Saw Dick in fresh new clothes walking in the direction of Alfred’s wing,” he explained, “and you and I both know cooking is not my forte,” he finished with a light joke.

“It’s the thought that matters, honey,” you placed your hand over his that rested on your bed, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“Yeah but now I’m feeling pretty useless,” Bruce sighed out, staring at your hands.

“Well, you can make yourself useful by checking in on Jason who was supposed to be back with the jar of VapoRub by now,” you said.

“That’s because you keep one billion things in those drawers,” he chuckled and you hit his shoulder with a soft punch.

“Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir,” you argued, repeating what he told you earlier.

Bruce shook his head from left to right. “Alright, I’ll go check on our little bird,” he said and stood up. “Anything else you want me to bring?” He asked you as he neared the door.

“A cup of the Cold 911 tea blend please and thank you,” you answered while reaching for a tissue to blow your nose with.

“A warm cup of tea for my sick wife, coming right up,” he confirmed and disappeared in the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“When you say it like that, it sounds like I’m terminally ill!” You retorted loud enough for him to hear you, judging by Bruce’s laugh that echoed along the wood panelled walls of the second floor.

You ended up being sick for no more than three days, much to your enjoyment and relief, and spent the next two weeks glued to your daughter Alice, refusing to let her go after spending that much time away from her. Alfred loved to joke about your boys’ love being the secret remedy to your speedy recovery, and he wasn’t entirely wrong when he said that, but Bruce staying at home for those three days to take care of you, even taking a break from his Batman patrols to be by your side at night, was the mystery ingredient to cure your common cold.

[space-blue]

Feyd thoughts from Fenring scene

I was sharing thoughts to a friend while rewatching the Feyd and Fenring scene and figured I'd share it here too, it's my blog innit.

He's walking on his own in a completely empty corridor. Upon being followed he ambushes and pulls a knife, meaning he immediately assumes he's in danger. Calm and collected attitude at this prospect, clearly not his first time.

But he also doesn't toy with her, doesn't threaten her beyond asking about her presence, he's not showing any sadistic traits.

He openly asks if they've met because he recognises her, isn't being coy.

Instead of being violent, he tells her the rules: 'You're not allowed in this section', meaning at least he knows not to be openly hostile to guests.

He's suspicious she got past the guards. He asks about that in a higher pitch, but extremely bland face. He doesn't sound upset or happy or angry. More like low key worried.

From there Margot uses the voice.

She reveals he's shunning his own celebrations, AND he refuses to say why despite being asked with suggestive voice.

He immediately recognises the use of the voice on him and calls her a Bene Gesserit. How? He doesn't answer when she asks what makes him say that. We have to keep in mind that his mother (who he killed) was BG, and since we don't know when she died, it's possible he received some training from her.

He instead says he dreamt about Margot, harkening back to Chani dreams from Paul. Meaning we can safely assume he's just as plagued with semi-visions as Paul was in Dune 1 before going to Arrakis, and we can safely assume that's not common knowledge.

Immediately goes 'Don't mock me woman' when she teases him. BUT crucially, she says "a pleasant dream I hope?" which is not mockery but closer to flirting? It's like he genuinely takes that as a literal tease, when the actual teasing is when she says "I wouldn't dare!" which he doesn't comment on, maybe because he's used to many forms of grovelling.

He also reacts as if the voice is a physical pressure, like when you come down on a plane and your ears get blocked, and tries to shake it off:

Again with 'I know your BG tricks'

Margot asks, again, and gets no reply, again. She even says "tell me" in a normal voice. There is no cut or weird editing afterwards, so we can assume that Feyd didn't answer either time he was asked.

Instead he takes his bearing and looks around. He is not aggressive or panicked when he admits to not recognising the place.

Dude is designed to blend into his surroundings. Bonkers he doesn't wear gloves at this stage.

Risk taking : he steps unprompted in the door entrance, and she then says "come to me, kneel," etc. BUT we know he KNOWS about the BG tricks, so we can suppose that he's actually making the decision to go in despite knowing full well she can and will control him.

There's plenty of hints that he may still be heavily under her charm, but there's also evidence he can resist the voice she uses on him (he never answers her repeated questions, tries to fight it off).

He never reacts agressively. He says "where are you going?" with some heat when she leaves though, which to me hints at loneliness. He was all alone avoiding every harkonnen under the moon on his birthday despite being the king of the night, meets a random chick he dreamt about, and now she leaves? Spiced suggested though he may ask because he's not used to people leaving without being dismissed. But imo these can blend.

I lean towards Feyd being quite resistant to the voice because they sent Margot in the first place. Yes, Mohiam wants a child made, but in her excuses, she does't say "I want him bred". Instead she says she's a motherly figure and he might have killed her because he killed his mom. If the voice was such a perfect tool of control, that wouldn't really be an issue, especially once you have him under the Gom Jabar.

There may be an element of "These men [Paul and Feyd] are one generation away from the KH and can't be toyed with carelessly".

He also killed his BG mother, which means he's capable of killing a sister and not any small fry.

So they send a sexy woman to woo him and yet she still has to ask multiple times about what he knows of the BG.

Regarding his dreams, it's also possible Feyd is so compliant and keen to follow Margot because he might have foreseen a freaky good time with her.

One is left to wonder if he looks at Mwaddib walking into the throne room with such intensity not because he's hot for him (he doesn't yet know it's Paul), but because he may have SEEN this scene in dreams. We know Paul was very affected by the spice in the air and food on Arrakis. We also know he made frequent false visions (Jamis helps but it ends up being Chani. Chani and him cut ambiguously in the killing scene. Seeing himself in Chani's place in the final combat scene...) So we can also imagine Feyd may be overconfident in taking in the Emperor's challenge because he's dreamt of this too. Just spitballing.

The BG call him a sociopath with a side of hollywood competency. He has a bit of the BBC Sherlock and Hannibal Lecter disease. He should not be as tame or as competent as he's described and shown if he had the full disorder.

It's very interesting to look at the Fenring scene with sociopathic traits in mind and see how they apply or don't.

He's not getting his need for validation avoiding the party, but he just survived an attempt on his life by his Dear Uncle before getting his freedom dangled in front of him. Lots on his mind.

He's not prone to anger outburst in general. His behaviour isn't very erratic either. Both of these classic traits were probably curb-stomped by the need to fit the mold imposed by the Na-Baron position.

But he definitely has a high sense of his superiority and is opinionated. He speaks up unprompted during the Baron's interview, and again behind the Emperor with 'he's bluffing'

High propensity for violence: check. Whole film, basically. He can be prompted by anger (against Rabban), perceived threat (arena), reactive/defensive (against Margot trailing him). Violence in reaction to fear isn't shown.

Difficulty maintaining relationships : the only people he seems fond of are his once shown, once mentioned pets he brings with him. His family relationships are what they are, and he has no friend to go to on his Birthday.

Generally fearful, vulnerable to anxiety and rejection, easy to humiliate : what a cincher. This is him reacting defensively to Margot's flirting. The BG say fear of humiliation is one of his levers, and if you give him a strong attachment to an honour code, it's very easy to manipulate.

IMO this feeds into his displays of vanity (black teeth, tailor made pretty pets). Also since black is seen as a rich and beautiful colour on their world, his all black outfits with clean cuts may not be as muted as we think they are.

the end... for now.

[onyourowndaisymae]

obey me characters hands hcs (demon brothers, dateables, + side characters)

college has whooped my ass but your girl has officially graduated with two degrees!! finally!! hopefully i will be able to get out more writing soon. i think i am also going to tweak my request rules in the coming days to make writing easier on myself and my schedule, so expect that soon. anyways enjoy these random headcanons that came to mind one night out of nowhere

content warnings: none

Lucifer

lucifer is usually wearing gloves, so you rarely get to see or feel his hands. so when you do, it's a treat.

his hands are cold, but not unbearably so. they perpetually feel like he's been out in the cold just a few minutes too long. when he touches your bare skin, it makes you jump-- but keep them close for a few minutes and you'll chase the cold away completely.

his hands are soft. probably not super surprising considering he's always wearing gloves, but it's still pleasant.

he's got big ass, strong hands. they may be soft, but that doesn't mean they're weak. lucifer is the type of person that could open a jar for you with such ease that he'd almost look disappointed in your weak little human arms. if he's in a good mood, he might tease you about it.

he's pretty pale, so you can see the color of his veins under his skin. he's also got just a few prominent veins-- nothing excessive, but just enough to hit that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

his nails are always pristine. he's the avatar of pride. do you think he'd willingly walk around with chipped nail polish? if something somehow happens, they will be redone by the next day, almost like they'd never chipped in the first place. either he'll call asmo over to fix them, or fix them himself, depending on how much time he has.

Mammon

mammon has pleasantly warm hands. sometimes they get a little sweaty, but it's not much of a problem honestly. he's like a nice little heating pack on a winter day. because his hands are warm, though, yours usually feel cold to him... and he will complain. it's mammon.

his hands are also pretty soft. gotta look nice, y'know? i can see him keeping lotion (and chapstick-- not relevant here but it's worth a mention regardless) on his person pretty often. this came about bc he got tired of the lotion he borrowed from asmo smelling all perfume-y getting him odd looks.

this man is always wearing at least one ring and you cannot convince me otherwise. i can see him wearing a lot of matching gold ring sets. they just look like they belong on him, y'know?

i think he's got a few subtle veins across his hands. he knows that people like that, so i think he's pretty proud of his hands. he even takes care to avoid chipping or otherwise messing up his nails so the whole look will stay cohesive.

Leviathan

oh you know this man's hands are clammy as fuck. sorry bud. facts are facts.

he's blessed with very pretty hands. his nails just grow in a pretty shape (and asmo makes sure to keep them that way), his fingers are slender and proportional, his hands are a normal size, and his skin stays pretty moisturized, even in harsh weather. he doesn't have to try. which is good, because we all know he wouldn't.

i think levi actually hates the feeling of rings and hand jewelry. he'd fidget with it too much and eventually become so aware of it that he'd need to take it off before he goes crazy. if he gets married and wears a traditional wedding ring, it would have to fit perfectly and be very comfortable for him to eventually get used to it.

levi picks at the pads of his fingers a lot when he's anxious, but he's not super prone to scaring there, so it isn't super noticeable. he'll go through bursts of trying to break this habit where he covers his poor hands in vaseline, but nothing even quite breaks him of it.

Satan

satan has hands crafted by god specifically to play piano and look nice holding books. look at him. there's no way he'd have ugly hands. they're soft and pretty, but i think he has to put more effort than expected into maintaining them.

he's another one that i think would be anti-ring for much of the same reason as levi. i think it would just feel odd on his fingers and he'd get irritated by their presence. he's okay wearing bracelets though.

his hands, slender and pretty as they remain, are also quite strong. he's the avatar of wrath, after all. he's probably the second or third best to go to when you need a tough jar opened.

his nails and cuticles always look presentable, but i think he finds grooming them unpleasant. he lets asmo do it for him-- the younger one's chattering distracts him from the irritating feeling of pushed back cuticles and trimmed hangnails. his hands aren't naturally soft, either, but asmo has developed a routine for him so they stay nice with a bit of regular (secret) effort. satan's all about seeming effortlessly perfect, after all, and his hands are no exception.

Asmo

softest hands in the entire cast. simeon and mephistopheles are good competitors, but this is not a battle he will lose.

his nails are always perfectly manicured and soft. he's got a million different lotions scatter across his room, the HoL, RAD, etc., all to make sure he never encounters even a hint of dry skin. he's got emergency nail polish, too, just incase a nail were to chip while he's out and about.

asmo reaches a lot for daintier, tasteful jewelry. think small rings, delicate bracelets, pretty gemstones, the works. he's very particular about matching the jewelry both to his outfit AND his nails.

he doesn't have any visible veins, so his hands seem inhumanly perfect at times. he likes this. compliment his hands and he'll swoon-- not that he cares more about them than the rest of his body, but because it shows you notice the smaller details he puts effort into, and he appreciates it.

Beel

big boy's got big ass hands. even if you're grown yourself, putting your palms against his will make you feel like a kid again. he could palm a basketball like shaq.

he's got his fair share of callouses. i think he mostly leaves them alone because they serve the purpose of improving his grip, which is nice for the gym or fangol. asmo probably gets on him for it, but beel doesn't care enough to do something about it. i can also see him having quite a few prominent veins on both hands.

his hands fluctuate in temperature a LOT. it's pretty unpredictable, too. you can touch his hand and find it scorching hot, then touch it again ten minutes later to find it eerily lukewarm. nobody knows why this happens.

beel has to be very conscious of his hygiene, or his hands will get really dirty in a matter of minutes. he's constantly eating and touching things, so he needs to either be careful or have a napkin on hand. i think lucifer carries hand sanitizer for this exact reason (although he won't admit it).

Belphegor

belphegor's hands are upsettingly lukewarm. it's like touching things or inclimate weather has no effect on him. they're always lazily warm, like a glass of water sitting out in the sun.

his hands stay soft mainly because he doesn't do much with them. he is, however, prone to hangnails. he's lazily bite them off and accidentally cause more in the process-- not that he particularly cares.

he leaves nail and hand maintenance in asmo's hands. he'll let the fifth born do anything to them so long as he gets to sleep through it.

not anti-jewelry/rings per se, but doesn't care enough about it to a) put any on, or b) make sure he doesn't lose whatever he's wearing that day. if it somehow falls off, the most you're getting from him is a quick look around, unless the piece was really meaningful and/or borrowed.

Diavolo

is anyone surprised to hear that diavolo has massive, strong hands? no? didn't think so.

he's got really thick fingers, too. you feel like a toddler comparing hand sizes with him. he's just a mountain of a man.

his hands are always hot but never sweaty. it's comforting most of the times, but if you're already hot his touch is like fire. dawg. don't touch me. i'm sweating. his entire body is like this, too.

his nails are always very particularly manicured (it's an image thing) and fairly soft. he cares enough to use lotion but not enough to carry it. he's not one to be super vain in that regard.

there's a tasteful amount of veinage on this prince's hands. enough to be attractive, but not enough to make him seen overworked or to age him.

Barbatos

definitively the coldest fucking hands in the entire cast. barbatos' hands are cold enough to wake the dead with just a touch.

his hands are always covered by gloves as well, so they're not as rough as you'd expect. still, though, the butler is always keeping his hands busy, so i imagine there are still some minor calluses across his hands. nothing enough to be super noticable, but still there.

he's got long, slender fingers. very regal. his hands themselves are average sized. compared to someone like diavolo, though, they're dainty.

his hands are also very pale, but for some reason you can't spot a single vein. it's odd. you can see the tendons and bones shift when he moves so you know his hands are built like normal... but something about the veins just seems so odd. mammon tricked luke into thinking barbatos doesn't have any blood, so that's why no one can see his veins. this is wrong, but luke is too polite to ask about it. (the real explanation is that, although he's pale, he's got pretty thick skin-- demon perks-- so you don't really see much below it).

Simeon

simeon's hands are pleasantly warm at all times. you can feel the heat through his gloves. it's just a very comforting thing-- he'll hold your hand anytime you ask, so don't be afraid to ask if you're a little chilly or in need of some reassurance.

when he takes the gloves off, his hands are silky smooth. did you expect anything different? i can see him being very methodical abut hygiene in general, and in this case i think he's always using a nice lotion on his hands before he puts his gloves on for the day. when they come off, his hands are soft and sweet-smelling-- like cocoa butter and vanilla.

he doesn't paint his nails or anything, but they always look very nice. his liberal use of lotion pairs well with his other grooming habits. his cuticles are never overgrown, his nails are always short and uniform, and his nail beds are healthy and clear. it's minor, but it just adds to the overwhelming perfection that simeon exudes.

Solomon

solomon's hands are somehow both clammy AND cold. pick a struggle, peepaw.

on the plus side, his hands are soft. even in the winter, solomon never has to worry about rough knuckles or dry skin. which is good, because you cannot convince me that this man would remember to regularly apply lotion. he's a menace.

his hands are pale, like the rest of them, but also more veiny than i think most would anticipate. he's got one prominent one heading to his ring finger, and the rest are a bit smaller but still noticeable. his pale skin allows you to see the blue of his veins underneath. they're interesting to just stare at at watch move when he flexes his fingers.

i can see him wearing a ring or two on occasion. i don't think he'd care a whole lot about the aesthetics, but i think he'd put in enough effort to wear gold when his outfit has gold and switch to silver when wearing outfits with silver in them. it's a small thing, but it lets your know he's putting in at least a little thought.

Luke

luke has got such little, cute hands. his fingers are small and a little stubby, just like his nails. his nails also grow slowly, too, so he doesn't have to do much to keep them presentable.

unfortunately, they're often a little sticky. he bakes a lot, and while he's not usually dirty or messy, he's still young and somehow just attracts stickiness like any other child. it's especially bad when he uses honey in his recipes-- his hands are perpetually sticky for like two or three days after, no matter how often he washes his hands.

luke is a nervous little child, and for that i could see him being someone that picks at his cuticles. simeon gently discourages this habit, but at the end of the day he can't do much but make sure they heal properly.

BONUS:

Thirteen

she gives barbatos a run for his money in the cold hand competition. her fingers are ice. unlike barbatos, she will use this to her advantage. you'll find her frigid fingers on the back of your neck or under the hem of your shirt when you least expect it. she doesn't have any reason to do this. she just thinks it's funny.

her hands are a little dry, mainly around the knuckles. she strikes me as someone that constantly rubs her dry hands together and bitches about needing lotion, while simultaneously never remembering her own. she probably bums a dab of lotion off of someone ever day (i'm thinking asmo).

her nails are always really nice. they're just naturally shaped really well, round at the top and pretty straight. they're strong and don't break easy, which is good, because a hangnail can throw off her concentration for an entire afternoon.

Raphael

like belphegor, raphael's hands are an upsetting temperature-- no matter how warm or cold your hands are, his feel lukewarm against yours. it should literally be impossible, but then again, a lot of things you've encountered in the devildom should be impossible.

he's got some calluses. they're pretty interesting, honestly-- if he was a human, he'd have the bumpy, dry hands of a weathered veteran or lonely woodworker, all rough skin and long years embedded into his flesh. but he's an angel. the calluses on his hands are small and fairly easy to miss if you don't touch him. but run your hand along the ridges of his fingers or the fatty parts of his palms and you'll find them just fine.

raphael has really pretty nail beds. something about the way they look is just so clean and nice. he never has overgrown cuticles or anything, either. just really nice hands for a man that does not spare a single thought to the way they look.

Mephistopheles

this man has hands like butter. they're just so soft and luxurious. you think they'd be a bit more rugged seeing as he's a rich boy with a penchant for horseback riding, but no. i can see him being very anal about his hands. they're always soft with not a callous or imperfection in sight.

speaking of perfect, this motherfucker has amazing nails. they're just a tad longer than you'd expect to be traditionally "masculine", but that just enhances how slender and pretty his fingers look. no wonder he's always pointing and gesturing so dramatically-- he's gotta show off all that hard work!

pretty boy here just has really nice, strong hands. not really veiny, but very smooth and even. his palms are a bit lighter than his skintone, naturally, but across the board there's no discoloration or scarring to be seen. you can tell he's a noble just by looking at his hands.

he's usually in those gloves but, if not, i could see him being a rings kinda guy. only tasteful ones, though, and in moderation. not like mammon.

[kingconia]

TWISTED WONDERLAND BOYS AND HOW THEY WOULD ACT IF YOU WERE THEIR OLDER SISTER

warnings: hints of angst? mentions of possessiveness

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS. ❤️

— Big sister? More like a second mother;

— Childhood was rough for both of you, and there wasn't much to do for ground Riddle from it fully, but you tried so hard to make it better than your own;

— You took punishments for your brother, you intentionally caught attention of your mother, so she could ignore Riddle, and you tried to teach him how to have fun properly;

— Riddle understands it when he grows older, but nevertheless, he always was your boy;

— You are his family, but you are also his best friend;

— It hurts you to see how much impact mother put on his mental health, and you struggle so hard to fix it, somehow;

— You are the only one, who can break the rules and make Riddle smile. He doesn't really cares if you are following them, and you honestly don't even try;

— To him, you are always a soft one, his gentle big sister, who takes care of him in the most motherly way;

— But once someone wrongs him... Oh, you definitely your mother's daughter as well;

— OFF WITH HIS HEAD!

MALLEUS DRACONIA. 💚

— Time is different from fae, but Malleus always remembers that you came first, and shows you a lot of respect;

— But you never felt that you are the elder sister THAT much with him;

— Most people assume that you are twins. You look identical, you act the same way, you are both strange in the same manner that people find scary;

— I think, both of you would be quite... Codependent?;

— You had only yourselves all this life, and it hardly changed, since no one wants to socialise with you in the school, so;

— You and Malleus are always together, hip to hip, and sometimes people even confuse you two;

— You are really more shades of each other than anything else, but you are comfortable with that. You share everything, you spend all your time together;

— ...Kinda possessive towards each other, too.

KALIM AL-ASIM. 💛

— When he was younger, you took care of him, admittedly, with some unwillingness. You were older, he was smaller and restless, and you just wanted to mind your business;

— But he is such a sunshine! Always was;

— Your heart grew softer, when he told you, while being still a small bun, that you are the most nice person in the world;

— (You really wasn't back then, but for him? You are now!);

— Basically sunshine and sunshine protector;

— You have a hard time trusting his friends and people around him, and, man, Jamil suffered from your suspicion enough, but... In the end, he is the part of family, too;

— I feel like Kalim adores having matching things. Matching accessories, hats, clothes. He thinks it is an amazing way to bond with you, and you are so into it;

— He is that kind of younger sibling that the more he grows, the more balanced your dynamic becomes, because he starts caring for you, too;

— You are the healthiest duo in the world, lmao.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR. 🧡

— In this case, you are not the oldest in the family, but you are older than Leona, nevertheless;

— When he was a kid, he loved you so much. He was amazed by you, thought you are so cool, so powerful;

— So he started to take example from you. Quietly, without never mentioning that to you. (So, if anyone Farena blames on Leona becoming is such an ass, it is you, lol);

— Leona started act like you, learned your fighting tips, stole your talking manner, and... And clothes;

— It was you, who started wear leather in the family first, especially, gloves, and it was you, who made yourself two little braids by the both side of your ears;

— Leona is a little copycat, but you honestly love it;

— You took care of him the most from the family in the childhood, because others were busy or never wanted to deal with a cursed kid, and that is why Leona is so into you;

— As grown-ups, Leona starts hating all your friends OR boyfriends—don't dare to have one, he hates him, too—and really insecure because of the thought that you will lose interest in him, since he is not the kid to be taken care of;

— Ha, jokes on you. He is always your little stupid baby.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO. 🩵

— Much like Leona, you was his example all his childhood;

— But unlike his situation, you never had such a bond, when he was a kid. You were always busy with your own stuff, scamming people, reading and studying, and he felt, well, lonely;

— So, if Leona copycates, because he adores his sister, Azul does it in the order to become closer. Yes, he kins Mastermind of Taylor Swift, lmao;

— But it works, and you start taking care of him more often, hanging out to explain things. Azul is happy;

— But others? Others hate both of you;

— Contracts, lies, scams: you do it so perfectly, so smartly, so easily, that others just hope both of you will get thrown out of school, lmao;

— As Azul becomes the same level as you, someone, you can call your equal, you start your little competition. Azul tries to trick you, so you could fall on it, and lose to him;

— It is a friendly one, and you actually love your little game so much!;

— But, oh, Azul... Big sister knows better.

VIL SCHOENHEIT. 💜

— You are older, and that meant you came first. So, you are naturally prettier and more talented. Thanks, he hates it;

— As a child both of you had an amazing relationship, but as Vil got more involved with the outside world, he became more envious of you;

— It feels like he can never reach your level, and people used to pester him a lot with stupid questions about you;

— So, as a teen, he distances himself from you, starting to act annoyed and hateful, focusing solely on becoming better;

— You don't understand what is going on, or what to do, and you actively try to fix everything, but... Eventually, you are too tired to deal with all of it. You surrender. If Vil hates you, so be it;

— He misses you so much all the time, but at the same time, he don't do anything to change your situation. He only silently checks your new photos, listens to your conversations in corridors, and that's all;

— Life goes hard, and once he finds himself in front of your doors, crying and sobbing as a kid. You can't deny him, so you spend all night rocking him in your arms;

— But in the morning there is no trace of him, and in the corridors you act like strangers again;

— And no matter how often it starts to repeat, you still never talk properly.

IDIA SHROUD. 💙

— He is the most annoying little brother EVER;

— He is so stereotypical little sibling, lmao. He just whines about how old and not interesting you are, slams the door, and ignores you half of the time;

— Thanks, you hate it;

— But you try, nevertheless! You try to understand his talks, games and interests, and if you still don't, then you buy him a lot of stuff he wants;

— You bring him food and water, and constantly pester on his health;

— Actually, Idia doesn't hate you! He just likes being annoying little shit;

— So, if something gets too intense or tiring, he stops acting this way, and shows that he cares;

— But if no one dies, he puts typical teenager record player, lol;

— At this point, you are fine with that.

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #7: Jinx (Arcane)

Starting off on a strong point, you are her everything.

She's known you since the days when Vander was still around.

You were the clumsy kid who competed with Ekko to bring her juice (Even if you always spilled it anyways)

You were the only one who managed to mess up worse than her

And as Powder, she used that to her advantage whenever someone called her a jinx

"Y/n broke five glasses yesterday by just standing, but I'm the jinx?"

But even back then it wasn't coming from a bad place, more of an understanding one.

Zaun didn't take too kindly to screw-ups, and you two were probably the biggest.

You weren't there the night everything went to shit.

So when you showed up to the bar the next day and both Benzo and Ekko were missing, you just assumed they'd quit and abandoned it.

A few days later and a man named Silco came in saying 'the bar was under new management.'

To which you replied with an 'okay!' 😃 just happy to have people again.

Then you saw Powder by his side and raced behind the counter to get her favorite juice

Only to end up faceplanting on the floor as you tripped, then proceeded to try again about 6 more times.

It resulted in Jinx smiling for the first time in days.

From then on, you're hers forever. No take backsies 😡😡😡

Whenever she wants to get away from the hallucinations voices, she'll stop by the newly renovated bar/brothel and watch you attempt to hand out drinks.

Seeing you spill it over the patrons and having them not being able to do a damn thing about it brings her so much joy.

She 100% babies you and makes Silco's henchmen do the same.

You cut yourself with glass?

Don't worry, Mama's here with a very colorful bandage and a kiss to top it off.

Having problems with the Enforcers?

Silco's paying them off (threatening them) so they leave you alone.

Inhaled too many toxic fumes and got sick?

Only soup and warm blankets for you. And cuddles. And mayhaps a bedtime story.

You are the only person allowed to call Jinx 'Powder'.

She'll kill anyone else

In Zaun, you have to be strong to survive.

And in your special case, you've punched someone harder than Vander with his gloves because they said something mean about Jinx.

The patrons at the bar all of a sudden don't wanna fight you when you make a mess.

Silco, although he despises anyone that tries to get close to his daughter, will tolerate you simply because you're too stupid to be a threat.

Although he does also like that you can hold your own if push comes to shove

He doesn't want a weakling to drag down Jinx.

It's a fact that Jinx is a brainiac when it comes to tech.

Whenever she's working on a new bomb or upgrading FishBones, she's always rambling on to you about how it works.

Even if you have no clue and stare all blank faced.

A look she adores and calls your 'thinking face'

She won't ever make fun of you for not getting things right away because you have so much more to offer than your non existent brain.

You've been there for her through everything and not once did you ever call her a jinx

Even now you don't call her by her new name.

She'll be having an episode, shouting at people who weren't there anymore, and you always wait for her to get her bearings with her favorite juice placed in front of her.

Jinx has two rules for any people that cross her path

#1 Don't bring up the Vander incident

#2 Don't call Y/n an idiot.

Anybody who tries the second is immediately shot on the spot.

No slander will be tolerated.

You two haven't officially asked the other out.

It's more of an 'I'm yours and you're mine' kinda thing.

Jinx likes to call you sunshine because you're the only light in a very dark world.

Other favorites include: sweets, baby, tough stuff, and the occasional toots

Jinx has never really had anything to call her own, so she will absolutely get jealous if someone has your attention for 1 second.

Why do you wanna even talk to anybody else? Is she not good enough anymore?

"I'm just trying to earn tips, but if you want me to take the rest of the night off I will. You're perfect, Powder."

And she's sobbing, smooshing herself against you to get as close as possible.

She's got you in a death grip saying 'she loves you so much' and 'that she's sorry' and 'wants you to keep working'.

But she makes you promise to take the next day off so she can spend the day talking your ear off while cuddling.

You're her everything, even if most of the time you're a bigger jinx than she is.

NEXT UP: Giovanni Potage

MASTERLIST

Then we start to circle back around, so stay tuned 🤞🤞🤞

[cupidscrule]

OLD ENOUGH 2 DIE

Re4 Leon X Fem! Reader

Tw - drug trafficking

P in v, finger stuff

You were a spoiled bitch, had daddy's money to take care of anything.

"Daddy - pleasee com'on It's only 2k, can you transfer the money? Yay! Thank you daddy mwah"

Spoken into the brand new phone you got, you had money, had everything. Never went a day without living like a queen, never understanding poor people 'ugh why can't you just work harder? Honestly it's not that hard ' said to thousands of waiters at 5 star restaurants. Never even tipped em, throughout high school you were a dick to everyone, if they weren't hot and skinny. Classic mean girl to be honest

"Hunny, absolutely not. We can all tell that bag is a fake, it's embarrassing.. you should honestly thank me for telling you how stupid you look.."

"Oh! That's not.."

"Babes, you know I want the best for you so.. that dress really makes you look fat, maybe wear something more flattering?"

Backhanded comments were your LIFE, had every privilege, didn't even try in school. Just sucked and fucked your way to A's, but you were hot so it's fine! It doesn't matter if the pretty girl makes the slug kill herself? She's all innocent, everyone who tried to defend you was hilarious. "Oh she's just insecure!!" Bullshit, no you weren't? You just hated all those chicks. Rightfully so, they were all annoying whores.

You were just treating them how they deserved to be, not like any of them had a future besides sucking dick.. you're different though, that's what you always told yourself. Sure you dressed like a skimpy bimbo, fucked the sports team twice. But you're different, an exception to the slut rule..

"Daddy can you send me an Uber? I don't have enough money in my account. Dad I said I spent it all shopping- no dad please- it's gonna be night soon, I NEED an Uber. Daddy? UGH" stomping your feet, making your own little hissy fit in the middle of the street, clutching the little pink fur purse you bought, looking around at all the people staring at you. Pout on your face and brows furrowed, throwing your phone on the ground and walking away, you were a good half hour away from home, and these boots were NOT made for walking. They were brand new plus, wouldn't wanna ruin em. And to top it all off it was freezing cold, like -15C. All you had was a white fur coat belted around your waist, with stupid little ear muffs. Couldn't even find matching gloves, freezing cold at Six PM alone on a Friday night, with no phone .. what a perfect day!

Stomping off not really knowin' where you're going isn't that smart though, but you were never a smart kid. Never did drugs or anything like that, just not very smart in the real world. Couldn't read signs, or fight, or have basic common courtesy. Shuffling your feet through the snow for god knows how long till tik street lights flicker on. By this point you got no clue where you are, started off downtown now you were in the middle of fucktown with nothing you recognize, see this is why daddy should've moved to a smaller town after The business deal, that way cops wouldn't be on his ass and you would know where you're going. Sure DC was the place to be! Except for the fact it's the stupidest place to be if your main source of income is drug trafficking, you didn't care where daddy got his money as long as you got it in the end. But what you did care about is when daddy refused to be smart about his shit. Like what are you on if you think moving to Washington is a good idea after makin' a major deal, you're dad was important. He was wanted for a lot. But you didn't do anything wrong, you're innocent! So you never cared about what would happen if dear old dad got caught, he could buy himself out of trouble just like before.

Still aimlessly walking up and down the streets trying to find anything identifiable when you hear footsteps behind you.

Turning your head to see who's behind you, and it's a taller man with blonde hair, it's getting dark so there's not that many details. He's wearing  really weird clothes, just staring at you, his eyes narrow and look at your face in the flickering lights before opening his dumb mouth

"Listen, we can make this easy kid. Just come with me back-" he started speaking, stepping towards you. Immediate nope, fuck that, the police actually caught the hell on? AND THEY WENT AFTER YOU? Worst day ever, dropping your bag and making a run for it just like daddy said.

"Sweetie, if the cops ever find you, and are onto you. Run. And run far."

Never actually thought what that old sack of shit said mattered, I mean nothing bad ever happens to you.

Running around corners, frantically, heart racing, why, why, why, why. You had NOTHING to do with daddies private shit, if anything you're a victim to his crimes.. yeah victim! I mean dad was a creep sometimes, huggin' a bit too tight, grabbing your ass like you were his girlfriend. Even though mom was dead for a long time, he never got over her and I guess you looked closest to her?

Running into an alley way, like any smart fucken girl would, totally. There was a chain link fence, then what looked like a field leading to someone's apartment building? Pretty sure someone from school lives there, yeah Milo in Chem 100% does he's the welfare kid and this was the poor side of town. Bingo.

"Ah- not so fast"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Don't even reply, no don't reply, you have about five fucking seconds before getting dragged away and everything taken away. Pathetically trying to pull yourself over the fence, y'know if you really tried you could do it. But you don't try. Feeling a hand grab your ankle, pull you down ripping your cute coat, if you're gonna kidnap a girl at least keep her shit nice damn. He throws you down, trying to scramble up only to get immediately knocked out and your unconscious body dragged away.

"fuck" you mutter under your breath, opening your eyes drowsy, vision kinda blurry but you can see everything, trying to move your hands and legs but then feeling the rough rope press against your sensitive skin, looked like you were an old ass storage unit, some boxes piled up in the corner, walls looked rusty. A table in the middle of the small room, and a guy just standing there. Few seconds later lights flicker on, they're dim but you can now see detail in everything. That includes your unknown kidnapper? Or agent? Or cop? He wasn't really dressed like any of them, wore a dark blue t shirt,tactical black pants, and black gloves. Not sure what profession of people wear that, plus he was too cute to just be a random kidnapper, pretty blonde hair with gorgeous blue eyes and a muscular figure.

"Oh you're awake, huh thought that would've taken longer." He says eyes darting towards you as you try to wiggle out of the rope, it's tight. "Who the fuck are you? Where's my dad! Do you even know who I am?" You say acting as if your dad was a fucken celebrity and not a filthy pig. You knew you were in a deep fucken mess, so when in doubt, lie. Lie about everything, you're innocent, no Mr. officer my father would never! You have the wrong girl I'm just a highschooler !

"Don't play dumb missy, cut the shit. Let's get to the point, I know your dear old dad is involved with a lot. And so are you, aren't you? So why don't you tell me where dad does all his importing and where he gets the shit from, hm?" He says coldly, almost as if he's talkin' to a little kid. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just let me go!" You whine staring up at him, he's just standing infront of you arms crossed over his chest, getting a better look at him, he wasn't just a random guy, he looked important. Didn't know why though, a sigh comes from his lips as he blinks slowly at you, "honey, I really don't wanna get messy. Just hand over the information and you can go back to doin' whatcha do, I don't care." He said, arms still folded over his chest, he was a good fifteenth-ish feet away from you and your chair, you grit you teeth, brows furrowed as you stare at this guy. Pissed off, "don't call me honey, I told you I don't know what you're talkin' about." You mutter to him, pout on your stupid lips.

"You're a bad actor, it's really obviously. Plus you're on file, darling. Now can you just tell me the important stuff?" He said putting on an obvious fake begging face, puppy eyes and all. You were trying to get untied, only getting rope burns on your wrists, squirming and whimpering in that tiny wood chair. "I didn't do anything, I don't know what daddy does to get money.. talk to him not me" you say batting your lashes, pushing your face out towards him, he takes another step forward. Putting his arms down, lookin' at you like you were some thing he found on the bottom of his shoe. "You have the face of a pornstar" he says out of the fucking blue, such a handsome voice but such a shocking thing. "I'm in highschool, pig." You scrowl jaw clenched, tone change from 'inccocent little girl' to 'raging bitch.' like a public appearance vs how you act in private. "Mm, well you're eighteen now correct? Nothing's wrong with that now is it? And it's just a fact, you've fucked and sucked your way up. No way someone like you is about to pass, in truth you're a pathetic attempt at human and a failure of whatever we can even call your sorry ass. But at least you make up with it for a massive rack and cute face"

Ouch. Okay.

Words didn't even form, jaw dropped, eyes shocked. Honestly not even knowing what to say, what do you say to that? 'oh yes sorry Mr man you're right I'm a dirty slut!" Absolutely not, because you aren't. "So, you gonna answer me?" He says, he's just a few feet away from you, leaning down to your whiny ass face. A small smirk on his dumb lips,

"fuck. you."

He just looked blankly, at you, almost dumbfounded by how much of a fucking MORAN you were, tied up in small place, no one knows where you are, daddies house is probobly getting raided and he's waiting in jail or has twenty bullets through his back while you're agonizing this man five times your size whom you are at HIS mercy. But hey, it could be worse. He could've killed ya already, he obviously needs you alive. So you're safe, for now. He cups your chin making you look at him directly

"You're such a dumb whore." He whispers letting you go, can't lie he's hot, feeling a throb in your legs, lump in your throat and pushing your thighs together, dumb little slut. Just fuck my brains out already oh my god.

"Seriously? Getting horny in an integration, fuck little missy you really are a freak." He says laughing to himself looking at your pathetic bitch display, all dumb n needy, breath rasp and heavy, feeling an emptiness only filled by fat dick, staring at the man, didn't even know his name, never told ya. He gets close up again and sticks to fingers in your mouth, pushing them back. Your tounge running around them, sucking, like a good little fuck doll. Sloppy and all wet, pulling his index and middle finger out your mouth saliva dripping off of it, stupid ass smirk on his face rubbing his fingers down your chest, over your pretty white shirt and over your tits. You're still bound to the chair, wanting nothin' more then to get bent over and fucked till you can't even remember daddies in trouble, this entire moment is just pure lust. He gives you the look like, 'is this what you really want? Seriously?' and of course you reply with a

"I'll answer you if you give me what I want."

That's all it took for him to untie you from that god forsaken chair, just to tie your hands together again. Push you onto your back, pressing your thighs apart. You aren't wearing much, your coat was gone lost somewhere in the ally, only wearing black shorts and a white top. Stupid for the middle of winter but it was hot.   He takes out a small switch blade from his pocket cutting open your shirt and shorts off, pornstar tits popping out in a little pink bra also exposing the matching panties. Even all finished off with a cute little bow, unzipping his pants his dick springs out, your pussy THROBBING, aching. He cuts the shit off and pushes you firmly on the ground, your arms still bound above your head, his chest just over yours pushing into you, stretching you open. His tip resting nicely in your cervix when he starts rockin' back and forth. Hitting you all the good spots, moaning n' a mess, hes pretty much silent groaning here and there when he speeds up, lifting you up slightly, more like your at an angel on him, he grips your back and rocks you back and forth, feeling your walls tighten  around him feeling all numb and high, cumming over his fat cock, his pull out games fast. Just as you finish he pushes you back on your neck and unloads on your stupid face, 'before grabbing you lazily and pressing your body against his, you were all dumb and covered in your own mess. But he was gentle with you, soft, he was nice. Nicer then anyone else had been, softer then anyone else despite fucking your brains out. His breath was heavy as he held onto you, chest to chest. Can't tell if he's doing' this cause he feels some sort of pity for you but fuck if you care it's comforting, you felt all warm and fuzzy. Weird.

"Please don't leave me here."

"I know you're eighteen, years old, but you're still old enough to die. Right here. Right now. So talk"

[desultory-novice]

Magalor gets the crown but neither turns on the main cast or gets controlled instantly and just kinda leaves.

(Bonus points if he gradually gets controlled, taking such a long time (like a couple months - a couple years) that people can see it happening but just can't stop it and have to watch it happen no I'm not copying adventure time)

Since you said Magolor left Kirby and the others alone, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with a Marx and Marxolor-heavy version of this prompt! (I sure hope you're one of my readers who either likes or doesn't mind some shipping between them, Anon! >w< )

I originally wrote this as a script to maybe comic-ify before I realized it was way too long and quickly transformed it into a prose piece!

"False King's Lament" Pairing: Marxolor Genre: Angst Words: 1,000 Warnings: Uh...they kiss briefly...?

[Read More]

A breezy question, spoken almost out of boredom, echoed with unexpected weight throughout the room. 

"How long you gonna keep wearing that?"

The wizard king turned in the direction of the voice: it came from his court jester, who spoke to him upside down, being in the middle of a series of complex acrobatic exercises. 

The jester was the only member of his court. For theirs was a kingdom of two.

"...Wearing what?"

"The big glittery crown on your head, your majesty."

They tried to invite others to join in their kingdom of laughter and good times. Most refused with looks of disgust or terror. Some took up weapons. Some simply ran. Of course, together the two of them had the ability to force anyone they wanted to stay, but after a time, the wizard king would sigh and say their screams weren't the ones he was looking for and let them go–to the jester's disappointment.

"The Master Crown is an object of unlimited power." 

The golden diadem in question, sculpted to resemble some kind of airborne creature, like a bird or a bat or perhaps a dragon sat atop the wizard king's head. The jewel in the center, a light opalescent color that every so often looked blood red in the light, sparkled on its own, as if it somehow knew it was being spoken about. 

"Why would I ever stop wearing it?"

The jester hopped forward, deft in his comically oversized shoes.

"Uh, cause it looks dumb on you?"

The veil of majesty on the wizard king's face fell away, one gloved hand massaging away the annoyance he felt in his brow from betwixt the crown's enormous claws.

There was no more dignity there as he dropped the royal charade to sigh at his longtime friend and lifelong partner in mischief.

"Ma~rx..." Irritation rose in the last notes of that name.

The jester, unfurling his wiry wings, crossed the distance between himself and his king with a single glittering flap.

"Seriously, Magolor. You haven't taken that thing off since you came back with it. I know you like looking all important, but come on!"

Magolor noticed Marx's ever delighted smile had left his face. His own countenance was a frown.

"Once more, I have to question you why I should?"

"...Can you?" This question was softer in pitch than that which initiated this conversation. Heavier in tone.

"What was that?" Magolor feigned a fool's ignorance. It was true that his hearing was not what it had been in years past. But to say he hadn't heard the jester's question would be the kind of lie that distinguished his life before his coronation.

"Can you take it off?" 

Firmer now. Marx no longer concealed his concern.

"....Why is that a question?" Golden eyes looked around the throne room for anything else to concentrate on. (Though had it not, at one time, been built for a purpose other than ruling? Had this empty castle in his image not been made to host more than just them?)

Marx wrapped his hands–though it was only Magolor who thought of the large, monstrous claws that way–close around the two ends of his jester's cap like they were cuffs, miming his king's horns.

"It's hugging your head pre~tty tight." His violet eyes glimmered as he stuck his tongue out of a crescent smile. "Even tighter than I do!"

Magolor laughed, suddenly at ease again. "Is that it? You're jealous over a piece of headgear?" 

He lifted the small jester in his large hands; up to the brim of his scarf for a secret kiss. But as the two pulled away, Magolor saw that the mirth in Marx's expression had been only temporary. A trap to encourage Magolor to let down his guard.

"I'm being serious for once."

Magolor absentmindedly bounced the jester from hand to hand as a distraction, Marx nimbly skipping and twirling along the stairs of the other's fingers in their little lover's game.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't be. I've spent years researching the Master Crown and its power."

The last two words came out with crushing force. "...I'm fine."

"Great!" Marx stopped, smiled, and hooked one hand on a white gloved finger, orbiting it like a trapeze artist to fling himself up on top of Magolor's head. "Then you'll be fine without it too!"

"...Marx, just let it go." Magolor wanted to crane back to pull him off but knew that he would not be able to turn his head to his satisfaction. He instead swatted uselessly at the air behind him.

"No, I won't." A once soft voice hissed with anger and determination. "Not until I get this creepy thing off your head, Mags."

Magolor's blind grasps grew quicker and more panicked. Marx stretched his wings to their full span and slipped the tips of his bony claws under the thick golden ones that wrapped crushingly close around the head and horns of his lover. 

The fake royal finally let the old weakness and helplessness of his former life slip through the cracks in his voice as he began to shout, "Don't! Don't tou-...!" Then, Marx began to pry at it.

"...Ngh!" Magolor groaned, feeling his head simultaneously forced up and pressed down by Marx's determined efforts to de-crown him. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Yet. Still, he cried Marx's name through tight lips, pleading with him to stop before...

His howl of excruciating pain echoed through the room, bounding across every wall like a wounded animal desperate to escape as Magolor violently arched back, flinging Marx off of him like a missile.

"Ugh...!" Marx rolled several times before coming to a stop against the wall. He shook his head to clear the dizziness. "Mags, what the..."

He looked up at his injured king, whose hands were tightly clutching the crown that now appeared to be wriggling atop Magolor's head like it were alive. Magolor shook and shuddered, whimpering at the angry, punitive thrumming of the crown-creature that wore him.

Marx noticed that, in the struggle, Magolor's neck wrap had fallen. His round eyes widened, irises like dots, at what he saw.

"M-Mags...?"

The jester traced the path of the crown-creature's claws with those eyes. Unlike the ones clutching his brow and hugging his horns, these trailed down a ways before they disappeared entirely into Magolor's back, where body and gold fused together.

"Are you...satisfied...now that...you know?" A glint of a golden eye found him, wavering as the light illuminated a stillborn tear.

Marx flew around immediately to face him, kneading his claws gently into Magolor's curled fingers until they unfolded once more for him to hop up into. "How long has it been like this, Mags...?"

"I don't remember... Right after I put it on? Months later?"

Anger boiled over in Marx to the degree that he no longer knew where to direct it. "How do you not remember when this thing suddenly began crawling over your head and growing into your back?! How did you study it for years and not realize it wasn't a stupid crown at all but some sort of...messed up monster?! Do you even HAVE limitless power?! Then use it and get rid of it! Blow it up or take it off or whatever you have to do! You CAN do that, right?" 

The lying wizard ducked his head in shame; he did not want to lie.

"...What's it doing to you Mags...? What's it going to do?"

The jester, who in a moment had forgotten forever how to laugh, looked at his liege, his fellow trickster, and his love as the other opened lips split in a most unnatural way. "...I don't know..."

-

[silverskye13]

okok i've another question but not an in-universe one; were there any rules or patterns you followed when coming up with the appearances of the helsmets for RnS? :V or are they all moreso based on What Seemed Right for each individual character :0

Mostly just what seemed right, to be honest! A lot of it is based on what I'm trying to do with them as character themes.

Tanguish started out as more of a riff on Tango as a fire-related character. Then I decided Tango would be fire/redstone, ergo his double would be ice/sculk. That eventually kinda balooned into his personality. He's contained, isolated, secretive, sneaky. But he seeps into things. If you've ever had to deal with your road deteriorating over winter, because water keeps freezing in the cracks and breaking the asphalt apart, that's his vibe. You almost don't know he's there until he's cracked you open.

Helsknight has a canon design, but his 110% was just me designing something that looked cool. My first Wels/Hels designs had Wels as a Ottoman inspired knight, with a focus on short, blocky shapes. Meanwhile Helsknight was more of a pointy anglo-saxon knight style, with a lot of triangles and sharp lines. Eventually when RnS started to reform my ideas, I decided Wels was a more caricatured english knight, with a lot of modern crusader/paladin vibes, and focused on making Hels a dark mirror of that. Giving him sharp, unapproachable armor was a visualization of him being an angry, brooding character [which is why, as a lot of people have noted, he opens up a lot more when he starts taking the armor off. That's also why, when he's feeling vulnerable, his nervous ticks have to do with the buckles on his gloves, or the hilt of his sword. He's trying to decide if he's going to open up about something.]

Martyn and Red both have canon designs as well, technically, since they're the 3rd Life versions of their characters, just a little to the left. The crown the Red King has, which covers his eyes, is a direct reference to Ren's quote, "The blood is dripping into my eyes. I can't see. I've been blinded by the violence." He's been blinded by violence, and finds it hard to keep his humanity intact when the crown is off. It binds him to his purpose as The Red King -- protecting people. Martyn in my head looks almost exactly like his 3L red life skin, and that's purposeful. He wants to keep a low profile. He doesn't want his other half to know he's his own entity that exists.

EB's design has a lot to do with his past and not his present. [I feel like I keep alluding to him having a backstory,,,, we'll get there someday.] The way I've put EB and EX as characters in relation to Xisuma, is they represent different struggles he's had at different points in his life. EX was the hubris of being a server admin, the desire for limitless control. EB was the pride of success, and the white knuckle grip it required to keep it. He used to be a very prideful, and very dangerous, person. And stung pride [ha! bee jokes] can lead to some very angry outbursts. So he looks very waspish, long and thin, and sharp angled. The fact that he's an android is 110% just because I headcanon Xisuma is a robot. Sorry doomguy I've fallen in love with the AI headcanon.

The Demon is a take on ImpulseSV's character trait of sharing that turns into exploitation. One of his big collab points with other people is the fact that he makes farms, and in 3L there was an entire plot point around how he kept giving people things, and all of those people individually agreed because he kept giving everyone things, he was on nobody's side, so, you couldn't really betray him, could you? The Demon therefore is a character who is determined not to be used or exploited in any way. He hoards his wealth like a dragon, makes pacts and bargains that only benefit him, like a demon, and his eye is always watching for a knife in the dark [don't think too hard about Tanguish taking knife lessons]. The man has, to put it bluntly, trust issues. So his design echoes that idea of a monstrous person so busy armoring himself he's forgotten how to connect with people. Bright golden eyes, impenetrable scales, armor and tools disproportionately strong compared to what he should ever be expected to use them for. He's daring someone to betray him, so he can be justified in destroying them for it.

I'm trying to think of other characters that've popped up.

Evil Sausage [I think the fandom calls him Bratwurst??] is mostly just a parody of some of his appearances in Empires. I liked how linked he was to Xornoth, so I imagine the shadow that makes his elytra wings is what's left of his union with Xornoth the demon.

Hels!Watcher Grian is both a reference and a handwave at the fact that Grian is an instigator. It makes sense that a fear, or mirror, for that would be someone who refuses to interact with the world, or maybe wants to but physically can't. Eye themes abound.

[loud shrugging]

Yeah, that's it. It's whatever seems right for what the characters are doing.

[flightfoot]

Do you have recommendation for Adrien centric fic that doesn't revolve around love square?

Yeah sure! Love Square still exists in some of these, but it ain't the focus.

---

Slowly Fading (from my misery) by @wehadabondingmoment

“You’re looking awfully deep in thought today, minou.” Ladybug’s gloved hand stroked over his hair and Chat Noir closed his eyes with an unstable breath. He got like this sometimes. Lately, it had been getting worse. Or: Gabriel likes using the rings to order his son around. After a while, it starts having effects on Chat Noir as well. (The more often Gabriel commands Adrien to act a certain way, the more it gets ingrained in his mentality. He suffers because of it.)

This is a gorgeous fic. Adrien’s been puppeted around, forced to obey orders for reasons he doesn’t understand, for so long, so often that a lot of times his own body doesn’t even feel like his. A lot of residual orders keep on bubbling up and stopping him from doing what he wants to do, and he just… doesn’t understand why. Considering how Adrien looked in Pretension when Gabriel forced him to go to his room so he could talk to Marinette alone, and how desperately Adrien tried to head back there but couldn’t make himself open the door, how terrified and confused he’d seemed, I think his feelings here, his mindset, is pretty close to canon.

---

adrien agreste and the consequences of tweets making fun of yourself by Anonymous

Well, Adrien thinks, what’s the worst that could come from a few poorly thought-out tweets lightly ribbing his own civilian identity?

I love the focus here on how people just assume what Adrien’s thinking and feeling and act on his behalf, without actually waiting to see what HE wants, and Adrien’s growing frustration. How they create a version of him in their heads, but don’t care to check with reality to see whether he actually wants their “defense”. 

---

The Parable of the Caller by @nemaliwrites

A week after Hawk Moth’s identity has been revealed, Adrien finds himself with nowhere to go, nothing he can do, and worst of all, strange gaps in his memory he can’t explain. In a stroke of luck, he stumbles upon a burner phone filled with voicemails from one of the Saviors of Paris: Chat Noir himself, who disappeared following Hawk Moth’s arrest.

But with each new voicemail Adrien listens to, he’s forced to confront the fact that there might be some kind of connection between himself and Chat Noir — and discovering it might leave him more broken than before.

I absolutely adore this fic, it’s a fantastic character study for Adrien! Basically in this universe, Ladybug and Chat Noir talked about who should be Guardian, with Chat eventually convincing her that he should be the one to take it on, primarily due to the whole “the Guardian gets amnesia about Miraculous-related matters” situation, and wanting to protect Ladybug from that. Then he finds out Gabriel is Hawk Moth, they take him down, and he relinquishes the Miracle Box and his guardianship to Su Han - all without having a Reveal with Ladybug, since well, he’s not in the greatest shape mentally at the time.

It’s a real treat to see Adrien’s thoughts and feelings about one of the Heroes of Paris leaving him all these voicemails, treating him like this close friend for reasons he doesn’t understand, and just seeing Chat Noir as this outside person. He’s got a very different viewpoint on Chat when looking from the outside than he would from the inside, with being able to see his heroic and good qualities far more easily when he doesn’t know that he is Chat.

Also Marinette’s struggling in the background of the fic with the loss of her partner and guilt over sending Adrien’s father to prison. It gets touched on at various points, and you can tell that she’s having her own story off to the side that we’re just not entirely privy to, what with this tale being told entirely from Adrien’s perspective.

---

Eventually by @lucid-ao3

Adrien’s life has been dictated by rules, monitored, and controlled for years. He has learned to compartmentalize. It’s not that bad. It always gets better, eventually. Doesn’t it?

Recovery can be an unexpected obstacle when you didn’t realize you were being hurt in the first place.

OR: How Adrien lives and copes with the emotional abuse inflicted on him over the years, and how he ultimately could overcome it.

If you want a good “Adrien doesn’t realize how abusive his father is but slowly buckles more and more under his tyranny, until things come to a head, and he actually gets the HELP HE NEEDS” fic, this is a good one!

---

Awaken by InkyIbis

The previously white butterfly, now oozing black and purple as a conduit of the butterfly miraculous powers, flutters softly within the silvered-gloved hand.

It sits there for a long time.

"Go, my akuma," The soft sigh pushes the butterfly, the akuma, out towards the despair of a love not returned. The same ache within his chest. On a level so great that he's willing to sacrifice the city to mend it.

It's okay if he's the villain for now. He'll force the miraculous of creation and destruction to be revealed, and once he gets his hands on them, none of this pain, none of his loss, will ever happen.

This is essentially a canon rewrite for Miraculous (specifically seasons 1 and 2, with a bunch of the events mixed around) that focuses primarily on Adrien, with his relationship with Nino being the main driving relationship of the fic. (Don’t worry, Marinette’s still treated fine, she’s just not the focus). This is the best “rewrite Miraculous with more of a focus on Adrien” type fic I’ve seen, with it reworking the plots of the episodes so that they’re different enough to be their own distinct thing - it’s not trying to just rewrite the canon episodes but from Adrien’s POV, there’s a lot of lore changes going on as well, and things occur in different orders.

Like lorewise, Chat’s given a more important role in cleaning up the mess the akumas leave, with his power helping to cleanse akuma victims and he and Ladybug needing to use their powers in tandem in order to cast Miraculous Ladybug. There’s also no Miracle Box holding the kwamis. Instead, Chat sometimes surpasses his limits and ends up summoning kwamis, which is dangerous to him, but very useful.

What really makes this fic great though, is its focus on Adrien’s emotions. You really get a feel for Adrien’s insecurities, especially when it comes to not feeling like he’s good enough for Nino, with not wanting to bother him when he absolutely should, with feeling like he’s not a good enough friend to him, and then there’s dealing with all of Gabriel’s usual abuse on top of that.

Speaking of Nino, this is an Adrino fic (though several characters get crushes on Adrien, Nino’s the one who matters most for this), though a slowburn one. Nino’s clearly head-over-heels for Adrien, but Adrien has like, no context for what a romantic crush feels like and is basically viewing Nino the way he viewed Marinette in canon prior to season 5. He clearly cares for him a lot, including romantically, he just... doesn’t get it.

Anyway, if you want an interesting canon rewrite fic from Adrien’s perspective with Adrino as the main pairing, this is a good story to pick up!

---

Dr. Walker & Kitty Hyde series by @pearl484-blog

Summary of the first fic, Rain Falls, Everybody Lies:

Chat Noir loves the rain. He loves the danger. He loves the excitement, and he especially loves how much Catwalker hates it. 

Jekyll and Hyde AU

Adrien AUGreste Entry 3: Rain

So like the summary says, and the title indicates, this series is inspired by the popular conception of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - not how the book actually goes, but how it’s portrayed in popular media, with Jekyll splitting himself in two, with a “good” side and a “bad” side. 

During Kuro Neko, instead of just changing his appearance through changing his mindset, Adrien took more extreme measures, sealing off his “undesirable” characteristics, his anger and sadness and all his sharp edges, into the ring so he could assume a more placid, genial persona that’d be more accepted - Cat Walker. 

But Chat Noir’s still there, taking over whenever Adrien gets too testy, and desperately trying not to be pressed out of existence entirely. With embodying Adrien’s sealed anger and snappishness and rebelliousness, he’s not too kind to the other heroes - he already felt looked down upon and ignored before this, and seeing them accept Cat Walker while he’s fighting for his life doesn’t endear them to him either.

The series isn’t unfair to them - this isn’t a case where one party is entirely in the wrong and another’s entirely in the right. Marinette, Zoe, Nino, and all the others - they did wonder about what was going on with Chat, but he wasn’t in a position where he could see it, and he did have legitimate questions about how much Ladybug would budge on things, if he’d told her what he was going through. It’s a series that emphasizes characters hurting and lashing out in some terrible ways, but that hurt still being respected, and working things out, trying to get everything to a better place.

---

Shadow of the Chat by @pearl484-blog

Chat Noir discovers that he has a living Shadow. Unfortunately for him, it is not fond of Ladybug. Inspired by the prompt: 5 times Character A and B thought they didn’t have anything in common and 1 time they realized how similar they are.

I wrote a fic based on this one and @wackus-bonkus-maximus fic “One Does Not Love Breathing”, basically importing Shadow into odnlb in order to help take down Monarch. It’s called “One Does Not Love Shadows”, btw.

Anyway, I love how this one-shot uses some of Carl Jung’s ideas about everyone having “shadows”; parts of ourselves that we consciously reject or suppress, and using that to get Chat some help. If you’ve ever played a Persona game, this will be familiar to you, as those games are based off of Jung’s ideas as well.

[outoutdamnspark]

HH Lucifer Morningstar Headcanons - Angelic Anatomy

(I love this nerdy duck man. I would kill for him, I swear to fuck.)

Listen. I'm so tired of the Beautiful™️, Perfect™️, human-looking depictions of angels - give me the Be Not Afraid, weird as fuck angels. The more uncanny the better!

🍎BODY. Starting off, I know HH's animation style is very stylized (and quite beautifully so), but I'm gonna go ahead and say that no, he just Looks Like That™️. That waist? Snatched. Why would an angel have organs? He doesn't. Man is built like an apple core (because of course) in that he has some semblance of a rib cage and then a waist smaller than Dita Von Teese. He also has no ass. None. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

🍎HANDS. I would have said he legitimately only has three fingers (again, I know it's stylized), but there's actually a moment where he's animated with four; it's right at the start of 'Hell's Greatest Dad', while he's on his throne - so as much as I'd like him to have more fucked up hands, I'm going to say he does, in fact, have four fingers. HOWEVER! We've all seen how long his fingers were drawn for the fight against Adam, right? "Your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer"? That. Long-ass fingers. Unnaturally so. This guy has inhuman, Del Toro-esque hands and no one can tell me otherwise. I'm thinking like Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth levels of disproportionately long fingers, with almost spider-like joints and half-inch long talons. They probably click ever-so-slightly when he moves them. Just. Creepy hands. Love it. Also? I don't think those are gloves he's wearing; I think his hands are just black, and that there's a gradient all the way up his arms, ending a little higher past his elbows.

I saw a couple people saying they headcanon his hands/arms as actually being burnt from when he tried to reach back up to Heaven while falling from grace. I kind of like that idea, but I'm not sure just yet if I've assimilated it into my own personal headcanon. Heavily considering it, though...

🍎FACE. Again, why would an angel have humanoid features? Lucifer straight up has no nose. Or ears. But heck, let's take it further than that, even - why not say he has oversized eyes? (And yes, I totally believe his eyelids are just naturally purple, though I wouldn't put it past him to be into makeup, being the embodiment of the Sin of Pride and all.) He might have little snake-like slits where a nose should be, since we see him flare his nostrils in determination when Charlie is calling him, but other than that I imagine there's just a faint slope down the center of his face like we see with Sera.

As for his mouth, we all saw his canonically forked tongue but I need to overthink everything, so for the few seconds we see him stretch his lips wide enough to where his gums are visible? To me they look black. I'm thinking like. Black Mamba. The inside of Lucifer's mouth is just black, minus the red tongue and bone-white fangs.

🍎HOOVES. Look. I feel like I saw somewhere that it was confirmed Charlie has little hoovsies; she obviously got them from her dad. Lucifer wears boots, right? And if you look at them closely they're heeled - this guy 100% has digitigrade legs with hooves and he has to wear heeled boots to compensate for the way his legs/feet bend. Me, personally, I prefer the look of like, pig or cow hooves, because I like the idea of a more clawed-looking foot over a traditional goat hoof. Originally I headcanoned Lucifer as having something more akin to gargoyle feet, with two or three long, bird/raptor-like, taloned toes, but the idea of hooves has since heavily grown on me. I think they'd be the same gradient black-grey-white as his arms, too.

🍎HORNS. When we first got to see him with his horns fully out, I thought the black striping around the base of his horns was torn flesh with the red of his horns showing through. I respect the black stripes - those are cool - but I'm of the belief that if it can be made weirder, it should be. I will never unsee the base of his horns as having strips of torn, loose white flesh clinging to the keratin. Maybe he bleeds every time his horns come out, ripping through the skin like Wolverine's claws - maybe it's been so many years that he doesn't even feel it anymore, so used to the pain that he's numb to it now. Because seriously. What's more badass than watching an unearthly being rip themselves apart to reveal their true nature and not even flinch while doing so?

🍎EYES. Be Not Afraid, motherfucker. During the battle against the Exorcists and Adam in the final episode of season 1, we see that Lucifer has eyes on the inside of his tailcoat and on his bow tie. You cannot tell me he can't see with those. I will die on the hill that this man has a myriad of features he just. Doesn't show. (Like how Sera and Emily had a moment where their extra eyes appeared and then vanished again.) There are probably invisible eyes all over this guy, and also surrounding him, not even actually attached to him in any way. Extra eyes can manifest in his wings, on his face, on his clothes, in the air around him, you name it. And yes, he can see with all of them because they're all extensions of his being. Angels aren't physical entities, so it would makes sense that their "physical" attributes aren't bound to what humans perceive as normal limitation. Even Charlie hasn't seen his Actual Angelic Form. (Which is totally a duck-like celestial creature with six wings like in the flashback during 'More Than Anything.')

🍎UNCANNY, INHUMAN, ETHEREAL, FUCKED-UP, ELDRITCH, BIBLICALLY ACCURATE LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR PLEASE!

[pearlywritings]

Stay with you

synopsis: Diluc staying up so late is not a surprise and not something you can entirely change. What you can do is stay with him, making sure he finishes his paperwork and goes to bed with you.

pairing: Diluc x reader

tw: pure fluff, domestic moment, established relationship

word count: 1.5k+ words

The sun was long gone, leaving the skies for the stars and the moon to adorn. The night settled in Mondstadt, reducing all the sounds and animosity to zero. Well, maybe not in the Angel's share, as it still has a couple of hours of staying open, but it is so far away from the Dawn Winery, from you and your husband, so you do not really care tonight.

What you do care about is the flickering light coming from the small crack created by Diluc's study's door and its frame. Him staying up this late is not a surprise and not something you can entirely change. You'll just have to cling to him particularly hard in the morning so he stays in bed for another hour or two. Maybe just straight up lie on top of him - he has the strength to pull you off, but he doesn't have the heart to do so, because he loves you.

Just as he has no heart to make you leave when you come to pay him company on nights like this. He learnt long ago you can't be phased with his ushering and the 'it's late, you need sleep' will just be thrown right back at him.

So you confidently push the door open and step into his working space. Everything is as it always is - the big carpet muffles your steps, the tall bookshelves are lining against the wall on the left, filled with accounting books and occasional novel volumes, adding a cute little detail to your husband's character. There is also that beautiful clock on the wall, wood around the face carved to represent the grape vines - a present from one of his clients. Under it there is a sofa, the one that saw a lot, from simple cuddling to less modest things. There is also a small coffee table and some chairs standing further against the wall, the ones getting placed in front of Diluc's desk when he has business partners or visitors over.

Oh, the desk. The big mahogany piece of furniture, looking like it's just a fancy thing, but with more drawers and secret sections one can count. On top of it the stacks of papers are ruling, just as the majority of time, and behind it your final point of destination is sitting.

"Hey love," you call softly, closing the door and noticing the redhead swiftly glance up, then returning his gaze back to the documents.

"A moment, dear."

His quill moves faster, clearly in attempts to finish something he has been writing down, before the thought is gone from his mind, overtaken by you.

You smile at that and come to him, patiently waiting. The proximity lets you have a closer look at him. The coat he had on upon returning home is hung on the back of his big chair, leaving him in just pants and the black shirt with two top buttons undone. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms, giving the sight of his bulging arms with prominent veins, and the lack of gloves leaves you with desire to fan yourself with something. The hair is in a high ponytail, the bangs are tucked behind his ears so as not to mess up his sight, but you know he has to put them away almost every five minutes, because the locks tend to slip and frame his face as always.

People say there is nothing sexy about your lover doing paperwork, because it's boring and takes your partner away from you, consuming the time, but somehow Diluc nailed even that.

He puts the quill down and pulls his chair backwards, sitting on the edge and turning to you. The man beckons you with his fingers and you couldn't be faster straddling his thighs and putting your hands on his shoulders.

You sweetly kiss. His lips are a little bit chapped, but you don't mind it, finding great comfort in his touch, angling your face a little for a new kiss and many more small ones you come to share.

The crimson eyes stare in yours lovingly, gaze radiating the sheer adoration he feels for you - his love, his everything. The only person who can distract him from work and get away with that. The only one the Dawn winery owner touches like that: his big warm palms are pressed against your hips, and you feel the heat sipping throw the thin robe you threw on before leaving the bedroom to pay him a visit. It makes your skin tingle pleasantly and you sigh against his mouth, quickly engaging in another kiss.

You feel his fingers playing with the belt holding it all together, and can taste it on your tongue - the spark of excitement. But he stills his hand, willing to pull himself from a soft exchange of affections, red eyes on you once again.

"I still have some work to do, my flame…" He looks slightly remorseful, apology clear in his tone, but you only smile, cupping his cheeks and bringing your forehead to his.

"If you let me stay like this and wait, you will be forgiven. I promise not to mess up with you."

After all, it’s in your best interest that Diluc finishes everything as soon as possible.

"Sure. Go ahead, get comfortable."

And comfortable you get. The man patiently waits until you settle with knees on both sides of his hips (Archons bless his big chair), face tucked in his neck and arms embracing his middle. Only then the chair is slowly pulled back towards the desk. 

 Your eyelids slide close and lungs release a content exhale. The sound of the quill running across the sheets is here again, but it doesn't serve as an annoying sound to you, not when from its tempo and intensity you depict your spouse's desire to wrap things up as quickly as possible. There's a secure arm around your waist, so the table's edge doesn't dig into your back and for the reasons of closeness and physical contact. His heart is steadily beating, and with your chests pressed close it feels like it reaches to yours, wishing to grasp it, to embrace it, to match its pace… 

And he is warm, so, so warm. If there was a worry before that you'd get cold (since maids usually didn't put the wood to the fireplaces at night during this season), it dissipated and melted in his body's heat. In a sudden spur of gratefulness you can't help but press a soft kiss to the side of his neck, ears catching a gleeful sigh escaping his lips.

It goes on like that for twenty or so minutes - you are not sure, but recently the clock on the wall to your right struck 3 am. Some more moments of tranquility pass, before the quill stops again. His palms are on your sides this time, carefully prying you off of his front, making you face him again.

Kisses are sweet and taste like coffee. Diluc keens on the feeling of your hands cradling his face in their hold, gingerly directing him for a better angle, for a lovelier sensation. Even when your lips are not dancing with his, the man is over the moon, seeing them move, hearing you speak.

"Have some work to do still or ready to go to bed?"

A kiss to your eyelid is promising, and lips linger there to solidify his will.

"Just a little bit more, my flame."

"Okay, only if a little bit more," you nod, leaning back to drag each knee to your chest and then throw your legs over where the armrests meet the back of the chair. Diluc kisses your shoulder guiltily for making you sit in such an unmoving position for so long, but you only smile, hugging his body again.

He wasn’t lying when he said there was just a little bit more. Soon you hear the clink of an inkpot’s cap and the quill placed on a small stand nearby. Papers shuffle, organized and reorganized, books shutting and drawers opening and closing. Finally, you think happily, we are going to bed.

The chair is pulled back and you are stretching, preparing to stand up. Your husband though has different plans. With a noise of surprise your hips are grabbed and body is lifted in the air with his own body rising, feet firmly planted on the floor. You instantly cling to his back, legs wrapping around his waist, and Diluc lowly chuckles, holding you against him as if you weigh nothing. And that must be the case, when he effortlessly shifts your whole weight on one arm, the other reaching for a lamp to turn it off.

“Diluc…” you give him a look of disapprovement, knowing he understands perfectly well why you are discontent. Your husband rolls his eyes, without actually meaning it.

“I am fine. Besides, you’ve been so patient with me, staying up and waiting for when I finish my work - this is the least I can do for you.”

“But you can do the most,” you counter, a soft smile back on your face. “For example, get us both to the bedroom and stay in bed longer when the morning comes.”

The redhead’s smile mirrors yours, and, finally stepping around the desk, he starts walking to the study’s door.

“As you wish, my flame.”

[urisk-factor]

FUCK IT JOHNNY TOPSIDE/SUBJECT DELTA HEADCANONS!

He's the middle child of three. He has an older brother and a younger sister.

He's half Greek half Scottish.

His mother is this tiny little Greek lady who would change the world for her family. She always wore trousers and these big fuck you boots and whenever Delta got in trouble at school she would come storming through. The school staff feared her.

His father was a six foot five Scottish guy from Glasgow. He worked very hard to make sure his family had a roof over their heads and food to eat. When he was home, he forced himself into a sort of house husband role.

Delta was such a mummy's boy. His sister was a daddy's girl and his brother was split equally between them.

That doesn't mean Delta didn't love his dad, who's name was Jonathan. Jonathan taught him how to just flick a bottle cap off a bottle in one go with his fingers. Delta later taught that to Eleanor.

Pre-Delta, he was really tall and lanky, getting his height from his Dad's side. His sister was built almost the same, but his brother is really short, a manlet if you will, and Delta and their sister never let him forget.

His brother and sister had more traditionally Scottish names, and he had a more Greek name. He can't remember it, other than it might start with an S.

They have a Mc surname, but again Delta can't remember what it is past that.

His Mum had the worst potty mouth. His Dad desperately tried to get her to not swear around the kids, but Delta very quickly picked up her language and was unable to drop it. The only reason Eleanor isn't as bad is because after he becomes Delta, while he kinda can speak, it's deep and rumbly and freaky and it kinda strains him so he just doesn't talk, and thus doesn't swear.

The only exception was when some splicers were shoving Eleanor around and talking about hurting her after she ran ahead and he broke through the wall like the cool aid man and bellowed "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY DAMN DAUGHTER YOU FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT"

Eleanor went home that day and asked Lamb what "damn" "fucking" and "shit" means. Lamb was not happy.

He can take most of the suit off, but his legs are genuinely fused to it. He can pull it down to his waist before it won't go farther, and roll the trouser legs up to just below his knees. He can take his boots, gloves, sleeves, top half, and helmet off (though provided he removes the tanks, which he can't do on his own)

Unbeknownst to his Mum, he and his siblings have been having sips of alcohol since they were little. Between that, being a really big guy anyways, and everything he went through to become a big daddy, he can outdrink anyone and everyone. It would take like a week straight of almost nonstop drinking to get him drunk.

He decidedly has not given Eleanor any sips of his drinks on the very rare occasion he has any. He was explicitly told by many people that she's not allowed any, after someone figured out that Johnny Topside had a big of a scottish accent slip on occasionally.

He's so autistic. He loves the sea, everything about the sea, especially the creatures. When he first arrived in Rapture he once spent like five hours staring out a window and talking about the sea animals he could see.

He used to surf, and taught his sister to surf. She later taught Eleanor to surf, using the same board that Delta used to use.

He doesn't actually need to eat/drink or sleep. He still likes to drink, it feels nice on his throat. He only eats if it'll bring nostalgia, and he only sleeps when he feels safe to do so, which is almost never.

He likes to try keep his hair a little longer, because when he was a kid he didn't like anyone other that his Mum touching his hair. She didn't have the heart to keep it too short, but to make up for like school rules she would tie it back or braid it so it wasn't actually touching his shoulders.

He once took off his helmet around Eleanor for a rest, and she started braiding his hair, like how he would sometimes do for her. If he still could cry, he would've been openly sobbing.

He's a hugger :)

Delta was technically a nickname he's always had, mostly because a lot of teachers he had refused to use his actual name because it's "foreign" (he and his siblings were raised in America), and refusing to just give up his heritage, he just chose a random letter and said hey use this or don't address me at all. Unfortunately he was a bit of a prankster so they couldn't just not adress him, so Delta stuck until well into adulthood

He met his sister's future husband in college, and accidentally introduced them. He lived to regret it.

By the time his sister married her husband, their father had passed away. Their brother walked her down the aisle, and Delta had to give a speech in place for the father of the bride speech

He was also a maid of honour. He and his brother both wore kilts

His sister is forever grateful that he managed to keep his silliness under control for most of the day.

The only time it was let out that night was because his sister's PILs were being obnoxious and her husband only invited them to save face. They went up to him and said "please, get them out of here by any legal means possible"

Delta then woke up in the fountain outside the venue the next morning.

In the events of a very good ending au where delta fully survives the trip to the surface, he manages to reconnect with his mother and siblings. His siblings have children and he's delighted to be an Uncle. He's sorta like Grunkle Stan to them.

Eleanor is their cool older cousin, she dares them to commit minor crimes.

Delta's mother fully fucking knows that Eleanor is her granddaughter the moment she lays eyes on her. Delta doesn't even have to say anything and she's immediately cooing over Eleanor all like "are you eating enough dear?"

Eleanor is lowkey Delta's mother's favourite grandchild.

Delta has a step dad at this time and he just does not trust that guy at all.

Delta had the delta symbol tattooed on his hands long before arriving in Rapture, it was just a coincidence that he became Subject Delta.

A lot of the alpha series big daddies were meant to live for a really long time, but they keep getting killed before they can get to that point.

The little sisters that grow up and survive being big sisters and whatnot are also meant to live really long, including Eleanor, but she actually does get to live her time.

He and his siblings can speak greek and scots too, but are basically devastated they can't speak Gàidhlig

He has a joking hatred for ginger people (his brother (and technically father but the joke only starts after he passes))

[legacyshenanigans]

I know this may seem like a Hella stupid question (also hope you're doing good hun~)

But in a modern sense, what kind of car do you think the two drive/how well they keep it clean

Asking for research purposes

It's not a stupid question! I ADORE people asking random things like this!

(I'm OK baby, thanks for asking, hope you're OK too💚)

Marvolo🐍

I feel like Marvolo would have at least 2 cars. Perhaps a dark green sleek Maserati or some other type of sports car, but as his general use car that he uses more often and has more space in, perhaps a nice black jaguar.

He'd definitely take pride in his car(s) and get them cleaned often. He'd be the type to not really like people eating or drinking in his car too.

Marvolo: *giving the lads a lift somewhere*

Garreth: *CRONCH while he's eating popcorn*

Marvolo: *slams on the breaks*

Ominis, Leander, Seb: (?!?!?!?!)

Marvolo: *snaps his head around to the back*

Garreth: (?!?!?!)

Marvolo: I KNOW you're not eating popcorn in my fucking car right now? Tell me I'm seeing things..

Rowan🐺

Rowan would 100% drive some form of pickup truck/Jeep type car. It wouldn't even be like a brand new one though, it would be an old banger, I can SO see him driving something like that. When it comes to its cleanliness he's not THAT bothered.

He's the type that would clean it out if he felt like it really needed it, but as a general rule he doesn't care that much.

Marvolo: *getting in Rowans car* I hate it when we go places in your car.

Rowan: Shut up, Man. You're a shit passenger.

Marvolo: Only when YOU drive..

Rowan: *opens his glove box and starts munching on half a sub*

Marvolo: *looks at him in disgust*

Rowan: ..What?

Marvolo: Dare I ask..How old is that sandwich?

Rowan: *clicks his tongue in irritation* I literally got it LAST NIGHT. Its FINE, get off my back will ya!? Fuckin hell.

~

[diy-fire-water-pups]

What did you pups do, back then, during the covid 19 last year? Where are there any emergencies during the virus spreading in adventure bay or no? (Also did you guys got vaccinated too including ryder!? I hope you guys tok many people died during that 2020)

Even with all the lockdowns and stuff, we were considered essential workers, so we continued to work just the same. The difference was that, with people quarantined at their homes, we had way less emergencies to attend to. Most times the job would be to go with Ryder to Adventure City in the Paw Patroller to buy and restock groceries and food for the whole town, since both transportation and mail were halted. Farmers Yumi and Al even donated most of their food production to be distributed in town!

For other regular emergencies, sometimes Ryder wouldn't come along with us, instead he would keep an eye from the tower and give us instructions through our Pup-Tags. Whenever he would get down and come outside with us, he'd be wearing gloves and a mask and avoiding getting close to people as well, unless when strictly necessary. Most times he wouldn't even get off from his ATV!

Once the first vaccines were developed and approved, only Ryder got his shot. At that time, there was no evidence that pets could get sick too, so it was assumed we didn't need it. That doesn't mean we weren't careful, though! Ryder made special masks to fit comfortably on our muzzles and we were always wearing shoes whenever we would leave the Lookout. And that's not even mentioning how we had to take a bath everytime after coming back from a rescue or mission before we would be allowed back inside the Lookout. We had to constantly wash our vehicles before turning them back into our Pup-Houses too. Even Rocky had to take a bath every time, there was no other way! Only later, after a few concrete evidences about some rare cases of pets getting contaminated too, a vaccine was developed for dogs and we finally had our shots too.

I'm just glad it's all mostly over now, it was an absolute nightmare to keep taking so many baths. With everyone in town vaccinated and after several months watching out to not get contaminated or spread it around, we're back to our normal lives, but since it's not REALLY over, we're still keeping an eye on things.

Yeah, if it happens to start spreading around again, or if a stronger variant will show up, we're all ready to get the town in a lockdown again.

It's a good thing Adventure Bay residents are well educated and aware of how important it is to follow the lockdown rules and instructions. We rarely have any problems with that, besides they got us to help providing for them until it's safe for everyone to come out again!